Chapter Text
The truth was rarely undeniable.
Jeon Jungkook really was standing in front of Hoseok’s newly introduced best friend, surrounded by cherry blossoms that he thinks that he’s accidentally summoned, a look of comical horror probably pasted onto his face.
Fuck.
Several hours earlier:
When the raucous crowd stuffed into the tiny restaurant comes into sight, Jungkook primes himself to just about fly away except Jimin’s been hitting the gym more often than him lately and holds him, hostage, just by clamping on to the collar of his fucking shirt.
“Ha, weak.”
“If this were a month ago,” Jungkook announces, flapping aggressively to get Jimin’s grappling hook of a hand off of his shirt, “I would already be a mile away.”
Jimin releases him with a snort and gives him a derisive look as Jungkook straightens out his jacket. “We both know you only have biceps—there was no fucking way.” Damn it, Jimin’s right, but it doesn’t mean that Jungkook has to admit it, so he just sticks his tongue at him. There; that’ll show him.
“Jungkookie,” Taehyung sighs, while Jimin rolls his eyes and pulls open the door. “I thought we agreed; no running.”
“Yeah, well, the deal’s off when the entire population of Busan’s in here.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t expect it.” Jimin accuses. “You know how many people love Hoseok hyung.”
“Besides, do you really want to miss Hoseok hyung’s birthday party? Do you wanna see his lips all--” Taehyung tries to screw his face into a ᄉ shape, but his eyes cross and it looks like he’s having a spasm.
“Especially when he’s already caught sight of us? Hyung!” Jimin jumps in the air and waves his hands like a twitchy cheerleader who’s downed eight shots of espresso, garnering the attention of practically everyone in the restaurant. Hoseok, who was in the middle of a conversation with two seniors and had definitely not seen them yet, brightens as he catches sight of the spectacle and practically skips his way over.
“Hey; you all made it!” Hoseok gives them each a hug with every word, and Jungkook’s earlier concerns melt under the infectious joy that Hoseok just radiates. It’s just a crowd full of people; nothing will go wrong if he just keeps himself together.
“Happy birthday hyung,” the three of them chorus, Taehyung stretching out the bouquet.
“Flowers?” Hoseok twists them in his hand, a smile still permanently stuck on his face. (Sometimes, Jungkook thinks that it’s Botox but Tae tells him that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about). “I feel like a girl.”
“Well, if there was ever a foursome between us, you’d be the girl, hyung,” Jungkook says solemnly.
Taehyung, however, scrunches his nose. “No, it wouldn’t. It’d be you and Jimin.”
They all shift to look at him.
“Are you telling us that you’ve actually thought about this?” Jimin asks, but Jungkook thinks he’s not asking the real questions, the idiot.
“Why would I be the girl if I’m the one with the best six-pack?” Jungkook questions.
“You haven’t been to the gym in weeks; what the fuck makes you think—”
“As intriguing as this conversation is getting,” Hoseok interrupts, cutting off Jimin but most importantly, Tae, who seemed like he was just about to explain his totally incorrect, fake, nonsensical opinion, “I’ve got other people to say hi too. The hyungs are over there, ok?” Hoseok says, throwing his hand behind him before he cuts through them and disappears.
“Where was he pointing?” Jimin asks.
“Didn’t you see?” Jungkook lifts his arm and whips it all over the place, just like Hoseok did.
“Not helpful, dumbass. How are we supposed to find the hyungs in this?” Jimin had asked a good question; people were on top of each other in every inch of the place, making it impossible to navigate, much less see, but Jimin didn’t have to know that Jungkook couldn’t see either.
“Maybe if you stand on your tippy-toes you could finally reach my height and that wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
“You dipshit—”
“Table 16,” Taehyung says, interrupting the good bickering session that Jungkook was about to get going.
“What?” Jimin asks. His face looks like a mess; confused and angry at the same. Jungkook is proud of his impeccable arsenal of skills.
“While you two were squabbling, I just asked a waiter which table ordered the most whiskey tonight. He said table 16. Just about,” Tae pointed his left arm to the back corner of the restaurant, “there. Shall we?”
Tae leads their mighty trio and Jungkook tries his very hardest to follow and not be groped, and eventually, they land upon Namjoon and Yoongi and a half-empty whiskey bottle.
“Ah, I almost thought you guys weren’t coming,” Namjoon said, as Jimin and Tae took seats beside him. Jungkook squeezes himself beside Yoongi, who only greets him with a lift of his chopsticks.
“Yeah, it was all Jungkook’s fault, but we made it here in the end.” Jimin’s eyes catch on the open whiskey. “Why don’t I pour us a drink, huh?” Yoongi grunts and slides his glass out and Jimin beams.
Tae talks through a stuffed mouth, rice poking out the sides with pilfered chopsticks dancing along with his words. “Hey guys, did you hear about that Stats professor going to jail?”
“No, he’s not—he only got rehab, I think.”
“See, this is the problem with our judicial system—” Namjoon begins, and Jungkook starts to tune him out because while he generally loves to hear Namjoon’s unique perspectives, he doesn’t want to hear it on Hoseok’s birthday. He’s only mentally prepared to reach the stage right before drunk.
Jungkook drains an unclaimed soju glass and slams it back on the table and Yoongi almost immediately fills it, though he gives him a side-eyed look as he does so.
“You know how Jimin said that they were late because of you… is that true?” Yoongi murmurs.
Jungkook thinks back to the minor panic attack that he had back at the apartment. “Maybe,” he hedges, fingers playing with his shot glass, twisting it around and back.
“Is it because there’s a lot of people here? Because you know Hobi would understand; we could leave right now if you wanted to.”
It’s times like these when Jungkook wonders what would really change if Yoongi (or any of the hyungs really) knew that he had Magic. Sure, the world can be shit to them. Even more shit to Jungkook because he has one of the more... effeminate powers. But his hyungs wouldn’t see him any different. Heck, Yoongi’s always looked at him as if he’s normal. As if nothing about him is remotely wrong even when he’s fibbed about having anxiety to cover up for his powers. How much of a difference would it make if he told him the truth?
“No hyung, I’m fine here,” Jungkook replies, still contemplating coming clean.
Yoongi doesn’t seem to catch his inner dilemma as his eyes twinkle when he responds, probably under the impression that Jungkook’s ‘anxiety' is easing up. “That’s good,” he affirms with a nod.
“Hey, so will you finally tell us what both of you got Hoseok hyung for his birthday?” Tae interrupts, “You’ve been bragging about it for ages.”
Namjoon flips his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s supposed to happen soon.”
“It’ll be great.” Yoongi grins. Jungkook has never seen him look so excited before, but then again Yoongi gets excited about new USB 3 cords, so he’s not quite sure what to think about this ‘gift’. As the night wears on though, nothing like the supposed surprise that Yoongi and Namjoon are purportedly putting on appears. Jungkook thought it might have been the stripper cop, but by the twin look of surprise on their faces, he figures he was mistaken.
They stay until the last people stream out of the restaurant, even help clean up the place with the owners, but by the end of it, Yoongi and Namjoon look despondent.
“What, didn’t you guys like the party?” Hoseok’s question forms a cloud in the chilly night air that Jungkook follows with his eyes like it’s some kind of difficult party trick. Amazing what the perfect amount of alcohol can make you think.
Namjoon stuffs himself deeper into his scarf, looking forlorn. “Your gift didn’t come.”
“Well, I’m sure Hoseok hyung won’t mind that it comes a little bit late.” Jimin sensibly says, and Jungkook nods along, mostly because he doesn’t trust his inebriated self to accurately respond right now, though frankly, his sober self isn’t the best at this stuff too. He figures it’s also probably why Taehyung has not left his side for the past hour, his broad hand taking permanent residence on his lower back, grounding him. No one wouldn’t want any… accidents happening, not when they were so close to this night ending perfectly.
“Yeah, but…” Yoongi sighs, kicking an invisible rock on the pavement, “we really wanted it to come tonight.”
“It was a really, really great gift.” Namjoon repeats for what might be the tenth time that night. Hoseok sighs and hooks his arms around the two brooders.
“Well, you guys are the best gifts I’ve ever had.” Hoseok proclaims. “All of you.” Tae pretends to wipe a fake tear, while Jimin stands still and puts up a heart with his arms.
“Guess I should just be off then.”
Jungkook swivels around to this new voice, though he can’t identify any physical features because of the inky darkness, which only coaxes his brain to make instant and terrifying deductions about the figure like stalker, mugger, or killer. The most frightening part though is how still Hoseok goes when he hears the voice. Eyes wide and disbelieving, Hoseok quickly flips around to the source as well, but, with seemingly the smarts of a horror movie character, sprints to it.
“Hyung,” Hoseok cries, flinging himself into the figure’s arms. Namjoon and Yoongi grin at each other and flank Hoseok in seconds.
“Yah, Hobi-ya, did you miss hyung that much?” The man ruffles Hoseok’s hair, but Jungkook still can’t get a clear look at him, as Namjoon is wholly covering his view. Well, that said one thing about the mystery individual; he wasn’t as tall as Namjoon.
“Yoongi missed you more,” Hoseok replies like a snitch. Jungkook’s sure that’ll earn Hoseok pain, but Yoongi only lightly swipes Hoseok’s shoulder in protest, making him think that Hoseok’s statement is entirely honest and that Yoongi doesn’t mind that the new arrival knows the truth.
“Ah, our Yoongichi is so caring.” the voice says, and Jungkook’s sure now that someone’s about to face Yoongi’s wrath (Yoongichi? ), but is again shocked when nothing of the sort happens.
“Ah, hyung,” Yoongi whines, but it’s not remotely complaining, more so affection that’s palpable in every syllable. Nothing remotely resembling actual rage.
That one fact should be enough for Jungkook to infer who the person in front of him is. He’s heard a shit-ton about the hyungs’ eldest hyung. Every unbelievable anecdote has him as the main character and Hoseok had been devastated that he supposedly couldn’t make it for his birthday. However, the pleasant buzz of alcohol that he’d hoped to achieve was doing too good of a job of preventing his neurons from making any connections at this point. It was a good thing that Kim Taehyung was there to do the work for him.
“Wait, are you Kim Seokjin?” he asks, stepping forward, leaving Jungkook to almost immediately stumble and hunch over, mind reeling. Huh, maybe that was why Taehyung hadn’t left his side.
“Yeah. Uh, your friend—”
“Yeah, forget him,” Jimin dismisses. Jungkook thinks that he’s supposed to be insulted, but he’s still bent over, hands on something to keep him from hitting the ground so it really isn’t his top priority right now. “So, is it really true that you protested the school for better side dishes?”
“Well, yea—”
“And that for like months, you had Yoongi hyung change the color of his hair whenever you got bored?”
“Yea—.”
“And that kiss scene with Lee Jong Suk?”
“Ahh,” Seokjin sheepishly grins, “people still haven’t forgotten about that, huh?”
“Whoa,” Taehyung and Jimin chorus. Jungkook can clearly imagine the starry-eyed look in their eyes, akin to probably the first time they both landed eyes on Taemin sunbae, the ass-kissers. And all because this Kim Seokjin character had kissed Lee Jong Suk, the university’s overrated, airheaded, sasquatch-heighted prat, he contemptuously thinks as he slowly straightens himself.
“Fuck you, dumbass,” Jimin shoves him, and he stumbles into some unknown warm body. Oh, so Jungkook had said that out loud, and Jimin pushed him? This practically demanded retribution. Jungkook stands upright, grateful for whatever’s holding him up by the waist, and looks Jimin dead in the eye.
“I said what I said. Lee Jong Suk is shit. ” Jungkook seethes. Jimin looks like he’s about to cut a bitch, (which makes sense because Jimin practically worships the dirt that Lee Jong Suk steps on), but before he can retaliate with what Jungkook is sure is nothing higher than a fifth-grade insult, there is a sound.
It’s like… when Jungkook was young and his class duty was to wipe down the windows and just to laugh with his friends, he would make it all squeaky. Except this noise was coming from behind him, belonging to a human whose hands were now off his waist since Jungkook had long since flipped around.
Jungkook gets his first good look then at Kim Seokjin, who looks like he’s fucking spazzing with how red he’s gone and how he keeps hitting Yoongi’s back as he laughs. The crazier thing? Yoongi’s laughing alongside him, instead of breaking the wrist that’s attacking him.
“You’re right; he is shit. Especially at kissing.” Kim Seokjin says when he’s all straightened to his normal height and color. He stretches his hand out, “I’m Kim Seokjin.”
When Kim Seokjin doesn’t look like he’s dying, he’s the most beautiful man that Jungkook’s ever had the luck of seeing. Lee Jong Suk could really go to hell, he muses, as he scans luscious lips, a seemingly narrow waist, and the longest of legs, and then remembers to put his own hand out.
“Jeon. Jung. Kook,” he slowly enunciates, and he sees Kim Seokjin’s lips twitch, but brushes it off in favor of collecting everything about this moment because he just made an incredibly handsome man laugh and not look at him like he’s the scum of the earth and there’s no way the fates will ever shine on him so brightly again.
What happens next proves him exactly right.
He’s only held Kim Seokjin’s perfectly manicured and evenly moisturized hand for about two seconds when he sees the first pink speck fly in just by his left ear. A cherry blossom, his mind supplies. Then two, ten, a fuckton.
No…noo!
“What the?” Namjoon goes, adjusting his glasses to look closer at the pink UFOs zooming around them. He sniffs the air, but Hoseok beats them to the answer.
“Cherry blossoms?” Hoseok plucks one out of the air.
Jimin and Taehyung immediately snap their necks to Jungkook, eyes wide and very obviously asking him the same damn question: Is this you? Whatever panicked look Jungkook has on his face apparently sends the message I don’t fucking know, quite well as Jimin and Tae’s faces both pale.
“They’re beautiful,” Seokjin whispers under his breath.
“They’re gonna give me allergies.” Yoongi growls, glaring at the petals with his nose scrunched and swiping them away with a vengeance. “Why are they even here? Cherry blossoms bloom at the end of March at the earliest.” Yoongi’s intriguing combo of swatting and encyclopedic knowledge is a welcome opportunity for Jungkook to lock eyes with Tae and Jimin, and softly whisper ‘get me out of here’.
Tae immediately straightens; Jimin seems to add a couple of inches to his height just by pure attitude. They both march to Jungkook and hook arms on either side, holding him up.
“We have to go,” Taehyung proclaims.
“Yeah,” Jimin adds, all real fucking authoritative. Jungkook resists the urge to roll his eyes and just tries to nod in reassurance when he notices all the hyungs look at them weird.
“Ok?” Hoseok says though the tilt of his head suggests the opposite. It’s enough though to get Jimin to start crumbling, cause it’s Hoseok asking.
“Yeah, uhh, Jungkook has to shit!”
“I do not! I have shit to do. To do!” Jungkook loudly protests, all the while cursing at all the gods for making Jimin so dumb. He gives Yoongi a pleading look knowing that he’ll chalk it up to his anxiety and let him go easier than the others. It doesn’t stop the bitter taste that sweeps over his tongue.
“You have that Physics Exam tomorrow, right?” Yoongi murmurs, just like Jungkook knew he would, even though his tone is wary. Jungkook gives him a strong nod. “Then, go. Find a cab.”
“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook softly replies.
“Well,” Tae claps his hands, “it was great to meet you Seokjin-ssi. And Hobi hyung, happy birthday again!” Tae pulls on Jungkook’s arm, and with frantic parting waves, they all go tearing through the streets until their lungs are burning with the need for air. They don’t dare take a breath though, not until Tae’s corralled them all into the first taxi that stops for their six flailing hands.
The taxi rolls through the still-occupied streets of Seoul. Jungkook thinks that he hears So Hot by the Wonder Girls playing faintly on the radio, but the adrenaline rush still hasn’t faded enough for him to enjoy it.
“Well,” Jimin says into the loaded silence of the cab, “I think we did well.”
“Good? Good? You said that Jungkook has to shit, you idiot!”
“Well, what else am I supposed to say?”
“And you,” Tae twists around, pinning Jungkook to the door of the cab, “what do you mean you don’t know, huh?”
“I don’t!” Jungkook defends. “Look, usually when the--” Jungkook’s eyes dart to the driver, before looking back at Tae and mouthing “flowers come out, I feel like I’m drunk, but I can’t tell the difference after having all that whiskey with Yoongi hyung!”
“Ugh, it was like two fingers of whiskey, grow up, Jungkook.”
Before Jungkook can retort, Tae jumps in for him. “Don’t think I’ve let you off. Shitting? Shitting? I thought that you were over that thing with Hobi; wasn’t that what Sungwoon was for?”
“Sungwoon is a friend; do you know what that means? Or maybe I should go ask Seojoon, Hyungsik—”
“Are you slut-shaming me for having friends? Wow, the haters are closer than I thought.”
“Children, please,” Jungkook sighs, “pay attention to me. To me!”
Taehyung and Jimin slowly turn to him. Jungkook can even sense the taxi driver’s eyes flick to him through the rearview mirror. “Ok, maybe that was a little much.”
“Yeah, pass out already. I can’t bear to hear your shit anymore.”
“Fuck you too, short stack.”
“That’s short stack hyung. Hyung.”