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Jungkook has always found himself in eternal pursuit of the meaning of love. For every waking moment, and even in his dreams, he mulls over the intricacies that make love, well, love.
“But why?” Taehyung asks him one night, while they lie under the cover of the starry sky, on the balcony of Jungkook’s apartment. “Why do you need to keep searching for what love is?”
“I don’t know.” He mumbles. “I’ve never really given it much thought. Do I really need a reason for it?”
“Hmmm, I guess not.”
Jungkook turns to smile at Taehyung, and he wants to say to him, but the second he looks at him, the words die in his throat, and he can’t help but admire his beauty. Taehyung has his gaze fixated on the sky above, which means that Jungkook is subjected to the view of his front profile. The curves of his high cheekbones, the delicate slope of his nose, the—
“Are you just going to keep staring at me like that?” Taehyung’s voice is low, maybe even a bit sultry, and it sends a tingle up his spine.
“Um…”
“It’s fine.” A smile curls on his lips. “I like it.” He flips on his side to face Jungkook, and rests his head under his arm.
“Really?” His breath catches.
“You seem shocked. I thought you loved my face — am I not your beloved muse?”
“Well, I mean, yes, but…” Jungkook trails off, not sure how to explain that Taehyung looks too beautiful right now, more than he always does. He doesn’t think it’s because of the lighting — the sky might be dark, but Jungkook remembered to turn on the fairy lights tonight, so his face is bathed in golden light. He’s used these specific lights on Taehyung’s face before when working on a painting ages ago. And yes, Taehyung did look beautiful under them last time but now he looks… different. That’s the only way he can describe it.
Jungkook’s nervousness amuses Taehyung, and he bursts into laughter. “Oh, you poor thing, can’t even get a single word out. Cat got your tongue, huh?”
“N—no.”
“Very well then, if you insist. Why don’t you elaborate on your little thesis on love then?”
“It’s not a thesis.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m hardly smart enough for that.”
“Nonsense.” Taehyung swats his shoulder gently. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. Now tell me, I want to hear everything.”
“I haven’t made much progress honestly.” The corners of his lips turn down. “Every time I feel like I’ve figured it out, it just slips away from me, and immediately gets disproven.”
“ Disproven .” He echoes. “How formal. Carry on.”
Taehyung’s gaze is so intent, Jungkook feels a bit apprehensive to continue, but for fuck’s sake it’s Taehyung of all people. He’s seen sides of him that no one else ever has — he’s the last person who would judge him.
So Jungkook takes a deep breath, and starts. “Well… first to find out what love is, I wanted to figure out what causes it, you know? When do we feel love? The first thing I came up with was happiness. When I’m happy I’m full of love.”
He thinks of all the times in his life he’s been at his happiest. When he got his first compliment for his art, when he got into the art school of his dreams, the first time he’d ever successfully sold an artwork. It was in all of these moments — among many others — that he had found himself to be overwhelmed with love for his art, for his muse and for himself.
It’s not just the grand moments, he feels love even in the tiny flickers of joy — things like doodling little images he’s too tired to flesh out into a proper painting and buying his favourite snack are more than enough for him. It’s an obvious enough deduction, happiness and love go hand in hand because he’s surrounded by the things he loves… and that makes him happy.
“But that’s not the only time I feel love.” Jungkook adds. “And that’s what throws me in for a loop. Maybe if happiness and love always went hand in hand I wouldn’t have this problem. But there’s love in sadness, too. A lot of it actually.”
There’s something about dreary skies and never-ending rainfall that he absolutely loves. When that happens, he’ll sit next to a window, press his cheek to the cold sheet of glass, his heart full of some unknown sorrow, while loving every second of it. The rain reminds him of times gone long by — ancient memories, relationships that have since crumbled. And he knows that the cause of all of this is still love.
Jungkook frowns a bit as he reflects on this. “It all hurts more than I can explain. And yet I still love it. I wonder why.”
“It hurts because you love it.” Taehyung says. “What you’re talking about isn’t true sadness, it’s sadness that comes from longing for better, happier times. Your point still stands, though.” He reaches out, and brushes a lock of hair from Jungkook’s face. “You just need to dig a bit deeper for it.”
“You sound a little too sure. Are you thinking of something specific?”
“Maybe I am.”
“Why don’t you elaborate for me, then?”
“Do you remember the time you snapped, and said you would never do art again?”
Oh, he’s talking about that time. “Of course I do. That was about a year ago, wasn’t it?”
It was. Despite how long it’s been, Jungkook still remembers it like it was yesterday
—
The studio looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. There was paint splattered all over the floor, easels had been upended, and one framed painting even had a rip through the middle. But there was no hurricane — this was all Jungkook’s handiwork.
And there he was, on the floor, curled up into a little ball, while he gripped a paint brush so hard, it looked like it was about to snap at any second.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He was choking so hard on his tears, he could barely speak, and all his words came out as guttural sobs. “This is it. I can’t do this, I cannot make art anymore.”
“Don’t say that.” Taehyung was sitting next to him, his hand on Jungkook’s, as he tried to pry the paint brush from his hand. “You’re going through a tough time, maybe you should take a break—”
“No, no.” He curled into himself more, as if he was attempting to become invisible. He didn’t want Taehyung to see him like this — he looked so pathetic, and it was shameful. “No, I haven’t been able to make a single good piece of art in weeks. It’s like my spark is just gone. I’m done, I’m never making art ever again. I’m such a bad artist — I’m hardly an artist anymore.”
“Jungkook, baby.” Taehyung cooed softly, leaned into him, until they were cheek to cheek. “Baby, oh, my baby, don’t cry like that.”
Just hearing that brought up a fresh batch of tears. “Don’t look at me, I don’t want you to see me like this. It’s not pretty.”
“You’re always pretty to me.”
“Shut… up…” How could he stay upset like this, especially when he’s being held like this by a boy so lovely? “You’re just saying that to cheer me up.”
“Is it working?” Taehyung asked brightly, and Jungkook burst into laughter.
“Taehyung… you’re one of a kind, you know that?”
“Isn’t that what I’m here for?”
“You’re here to bring me inspiration, not therapy.” Jungkook sniffed.
“I can do both.” Taehyung wiped the tears off his face with one hand. “Besides, if you don’t draw anymore I’m out of a job.”
“I don’t even pay you for this…” Jungkook could feel his sadness dissipate, but it wasn’t enough. “Taehyung, you’ve been here for hours, you’ve seen how hard I’ve been struggling. I’m not going to be productive anymore today… or ever, if I’m being honest. Go home.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Taehyung lay down next to him and smiled. “So talk to me.”
—
“We stayed up the whole night talking, and I’m pretty sure I just fell asleep there with you.” Jungkook says fondly. “But what does that have to do with sadness and love?”
“Think back to that night, it hurt you when you felt like you couldn’t make art anymore, right?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed? “Because I love art?”
“Bingo!” Taehyung grins at him rakishly. “It hurt you when you felt like you’d lost your art, and that pain was because of love. It was your love that made you lose it.”
“Was it just my love for it, though? Or the fear that I'd lost it?”
“If you didn’t love art so strongly, you wouldn’t have snapped that hard, trust me.”
Oh. “I… see what you mean. But I also don’t?” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know, this all feels so confusing to me.”
“I mean, love is confusing, I don’t blame you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why I wanna figure it out.” He smiles to himself shyly. “It’s so stupid, but I hate how I’m always so close, and yet so far away from just getting it, you know?”
“Oh, I understand what you mean. But also think you’ve actually got it, you just haven’t realised it yet.”
“…what?”
Taehyung doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, he turns back to look at the stars again, and sighs deeply. “My hyung once told me something about love. He said that ‘we tend to think of love and hate as opposites of each other. But they aren’t just complements of each other — they’re the same damn thing’. Do you get what I’m trying to get at?”
“Not really.” Jungkook admits.
“See, here’s the funny thing about love: it’s a fucking contradiction.” Taehyung smiles to himself. “It makes no sense at all, that’s the charm of it. You can box every emotion into something specific, but love? How do you define it? You don’t — you can’t, and that’s the answer.”
“Oh.” Of all the things he expected to hear, it was not this. “So, are you saying what I’m doing is futile?”
“Futile?” Taehyung’s smile wanes, and he looks at Jungkook again. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I think I should elaborate a bit more on this. Actually—” He scrambles up until he’s sitting cross-legged, and he spreads his arms. “Come here.”
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to crawl over to him, and nestle himself in his arms. There’s a certain softness in the way Taehyung holds him, the way he makes sure to wrap him as close as he can to himself, the way he strokes his hair, and there’s something else in it too, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.
“Now,” Taehyung starts. “You kind of did say it yourself, you know. That every time you feel like you’ve figured out love, you’re always so far, and yet so close. Another way of saying that essentially is that whenever you pin it down to one specific feeling, you discover something else that’s just completely conflicting. You know in your heart that both of these are right, and yet. How can two such contrasting emotions exist within love?” He takes a pause to laugh a bit. “I actually didn’t want to finish that sentence by saying love , I was trying to say something like ‘the same feeling’ or the ‘the same emotion’, but for me, love isn’t just that. I think love is… its own little thing, you know? It’s beyond any feelings or emotion — love is just love. That’s the only word that can define it.
“I believe the closest we can get to truly comprehending what love truly can be is through our experiences. Like things you said, the way you kept recalling times when you felt love. I suppose that’s all that love is, an amalgamation of our memories. I like to think of it as something that exists within us, or maybe it is us. The ability to love is so deeply ingrained in us, that we’ve transcended the ability to define it anymore, because it’s become a part of ourselves. Ironic isn’t it, that we struggle to understand something that’s such a huge part of us? But maybe that’s the exact reason why it’s so hard to figure out. I wonder if that’s just another quirk, or just the way things are. What do you think, Jungkook-ah?”
“Um…” Hearing Taehyung talk for so long has robbed him of speech. How the hell is he meant to follow up to any of that? “I don’t really know what to say.”
“Understandable.”
Jungkook leans his head back to rest it on Taehyung’s shoulder. “But if I think about it, I don’t think I should have anything to say anyway. I should just… feel it. That’s the only thing I can do now. Although I am curious about your experiences. I’ve ranted enough about mine, what about yours? Got anything to contribute?”
Taehyung’s laugh is low and deep, and it resonates through Jungkook’s skin. “Oh, I have a lot to say, actually. I don’t even know where to start from, fuck.” He pauses for a beat as he mulls over this answer. “I suppose I’ll start from the beginning. For me, love is a beautiful boy peeking at me from behind a notebook with wonder all over his face, and when I ask him what’s up, he tells me that he’s been trying to draw me for the past ten minutes but there’s just something he can’t get right, and he’s scared it looks bad. Love is when I tell him it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, but he gets shy and runs away from me. Love is what makes our paths cross again, and he tells me he can’t stop drawing me, and begs me — fucking begs me to spend more time around him because only I can make him draw like that, and I agree because he’s the only person who can make me feel so goddamned great about myself.
“Love was the hours we spent together, most of which he did not actually draw, because he wanted to know me better, understand who I truly was. Love was me baring out my soul to him, because I wanted him to know all of me, feel the very essence of my being. Love was him making the most wonderful art out of it, art that was so visceral, I felt like I was the only person who would ever understand it. Love was him falling for me so deeply, that he didn’t even realise it was love, love was me watching this descent into love, and joining him in it.
“That night in the studio… that was the moment I’d fallen in love with you. I know you were at your lowest, and it feels so wrong to say you looked more beautiful that night than I’d ever seen you but… I couldn’t help it. The rawness in your voice, the pain radiating off of you when you said you were a bad artist and you’d never be able to make art again, it just clicked for me. If love made any kind of sense, I would’ve loved you at your best, but I didn’t. I fell for you at your worst, and that was when I realised that love wasn’t just a feeling, it was more. I loved you when you were creating, but I also loved you and your destruction. And that’s what my love is. My love is you, Jeon Jungkook.”
Oh. Oh. Jungkook has actually been left tongue-tied by Taehyung’s speech. The casual way he mentioned that he’s always known Jungkook has been in love with him, to that last line: my love is you , is too much for him to handle. But he’s never been great with words anyway, that’s part of the reason why he became an artist, because that was one of the mediums he could always use to express himself. But there was nothing he could make that would do justice to the surge of emotions coursing through his veins.
It’s too much for him, so he breaks free from Taehyung’s arm, and crouches in front of him, so he’s staring him right in the eyes. Jungkook gives himself a split second to drink in his majestic features before he pounces on him, and kisses him. Taehyung gasps as he loses his balance, and gets thrown back, but he softens his lips and kisses him back. Jungkook never knew how badly he needed it until he’d gotten it, and he’s savouring every second of it. He can taste Taehyung’s strawberry breath — a by-product of him chewing his favourite gum whenever he can — and he leans in to relish it better.
But it’s still not enough. Jungkook needs to get closer to him, so he slides his hands under his shirt, and grabs on to his waist. He’s too scared to touch the rest of him, and he hopes that maybe sometime he’s going to muster up the courage to do it.
He’s not sure how long they kiss for, but at one point he can feel Taehyung pant into his mouth, so he draws back slightly, and gives him a moment to catch his breath. Jungkook is nowhere near done, and he’s still teeming with energy, so he takes this moment to talk to Taehyung.
“Love is when fate leads me to a boy with a face that people would start wars over in ancient times.” He starts. “Love is me being so smitten by this boy, that I start to draw him, because I have no other way to deal with the way he makes me feel. Love is how he takes my breath away with every move he makes, love is the obsession I have to record all of this, because what if I don’t have him by my side anymore? But, love is also the knowledge that he’ll never leave me no matter what. Love is the way he holds my hands when the times are rough, and knowing that he’ll always be there for me. Love is the way we all always be together, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.
“But you know all this anyway. No one in the world knows me better than you do, because you’ve spent as much observing me as I have with you. You knew I was in love with you even before I did, because you know me better than I ever will, because you’re half of my soul, and that’s what my love is. You said that maybe love is ingrained within us to the point where it’s become a part of us.” Jungkook leans closer to him, until their lips are almost brushing against each other’s, and he says, “I could say the same for you. This love of mine resides within every corner of my being, and is the very thing that keeps me alive, and it will continue to thrive even when you and I have become nothing more than dust. My love is knowing that I will always be a part of you just as you are a part of me, and no force under heavens will ever break us apart. My love is you, Kim Taehyung.”
“That was so beautiful.” Taehyung breathes out. “I… oh wow, you’ve gotten me speechless, huh.”
“How the tables have turned.” Jungkook mumbles against his lips.
"So it would seem." Taehyung’s eyes soften. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I'm so lucky I have you.”
“I love you even more, Taehyung.” And with that, he closes his eyes, and presses down to kiss him again.