Work Text:
before jungkookandyoongi, there was just jungkook. or at least, he thinks so. there has to have been a time. when jungkook just meant… jungkook.
he always had problems, remembering himself, as a sole entity. jungkook sees himself as two time periods: before yoongi, and now. he likes to call it “the us i used to be” and just, “us.”
his therapist tells him it’s not good to see his identity as an amalgam, which he didn’t understand the first time she said it. she really just meant he shouldn’t base his persona on how people see them, him and yoongi. together.
because jungkook, before jungkookandyoongi, is just jungkook.
.
.
.
.
jungkook met yoongi the summer before his first year at uni. he used to tell their friends it was fate, but he’s stopped that now. because he knows better. fate wouldn’t have been that cruel. jungkookandyoongi was a coincidence, a blip in the middle of just jungkook.
when he met yoongi, he felt himself shift for the first time. his axis tipped, the gravitational pull waned. he was in yoongi’s orbit now, and yoongi his.
it was their antithesis, that made them work. jungkook, at the time, was smaller and quiet and afraid of the future. yoongi, was words and black coffee and a fist raised at the world. jungkook loved him more than he knew his body was capable of carrying. yoongi hadn’t thought he could hold a love at all, but made the exception for jungkook.
it was their antithesis, that made them love. that made them, jungkookandyoongi.
.
.
.
.
love, or what you think is love at the time, can be all consuming. it’s what turns an i, into “us.”
( “is that what you felt it was? consuming?”
“i think so. that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“of course not, jungkook. but you can’t be ‘us’ forever. you and yoongi, were two separate people. the love you had was real, but at some point you have to be… jungkook.” )
for the years that spanned the time of jungkookandyoongi, they were “us.” connected at the hip, completely and totally engrossed. waiting outside classrooms, sneaking away for dinners or night walks. birthdays, holidays, weekends. jungkook. and yoongi.
jungkook knew everything about yoongi. favorite color? burgundy. childhood dream? build his own piano by hand. the scar on his knee? childhood accident, from his brother. every detail he could possibly know, he discovered. jungkook inhaled these pieces of yoongi, until they became part of him.
parts he keeps with him now, even after. yoongi sets the microwave manually, rather than clicking the auto start button. yoongi keeps a photo of them in his pillowcase. yoongi chews his nailbeds when he’s nervous.
( “it’s good. to keep those parts of him. so long as you’re not doing it because you can’t let them go.”
“they’re a part of me. he’s copied and pasted himself over me.
how do i go back to being just jungkook?
what if i don’t want to?” )
.
.
.
.
days after therapy are hard. or– harder than the other days. the others know what not to say, when to reach out. at what point jungkook swims out of his mind enough to become less separated jungkookandyoongi and just jungkook , when he’s a little bit of both again. when he’s found the middle.
the apartment is always too quiet on these days, so jungkook opts for going somewhere crowded, even if the loudness and the busy get a little overstimulating. his therapist tells him he should go where he can process the feelings they’ve worked through, but jungkook likes to push them back, just a few days more.
sometimes, he goes to the grocery store, wandering aisles grabbing random items until he realizes he’s picked all of yoongi’s favorites. or the coffee shop, either the one by campus or the closest starbucks he can get to, subconsciously ordering yoongi’s drink and sitting in their booth listening to people talk and laugh and love.
(sometimes he’ll close his eyes, feel the warmth of his to-go cup under his palms, and he can almost picture yoongi sitting across from him. his scratchy laugh, his bobbing leg, his fingers ghosting against jungkook’s cheek. sometimes when he opens his eyes, he’s crying. only once did the barista notice and offer him a tissue and a free cookie.)
he doesn’t go back to the apartment, not for a couple days. instead he’ll go to one the hyungs’ apartments; it changes every month, they have the order on a tight schedule. if it’s hobi and namjoon’s, he’ll get to hear his favorite yoongi stories, while mono plays softly in the background. his face will be wet, but he’ll be smiling, softly. if it’s tae and jimin’s, it’ll be distractions. video games and greasy foods; he’ll get to feel like a regular uni senior again. not that he remembers what that feels like, not from before jungkookandyoongi. seokjin’s turn is a wild card. some days it’s sobbing on the kitchen floor, refusing to meet his eldest hyung’s eyes, and other times it’s bickering over the movie they’ll watch, because jungkook refuses to watch inception, even if it was one of yoongi’s favorites.
the nights always end in a shared bed, exhaustion bringing dreamless sleep. they are the only times jungkook is grateful he doesn’t dream about yoongi.
.
.
.
.
( “i want you to write a letter to yourself. your past self, before you were jungkookandyoongi . and then i want you to write one to the you that you are now.”
“what should i say?”
“whatever you think you need to say. whatever you think you need to hear.” )
.
.
.
.
dear jungkook (before yoongi),
i don’t think i’ve been very fair to you. i’ve sort of been ignoring your existence. i guess… i guess i didn’t like thinking about the i that i used to be, because once i’d met yoongi i think i became a
better person
my therapist said i shouldn’t bring myself down like that, past or present, i became a different person, and i liked that person better. i liked being
jungkookandyoongi.
i liked being “us.” but you were real person, not just a placeholder until the
andyoongi
part came along. to be honest, though, i don’t think i’d change what happened. you weren’t as happy, as just jungkook, and yoongi brought the missing piece you needed. i know my therapist is helping, but she has to understand that just because i’m an “us,” it doesn’t mean i can’t be an ‘i’ still too.
maybe she won’t ever understand that. because she didn’t have yoongi. and we do. or– you will. just wait. being just jungkook isn’t as hard when we have yoongi. but maybe i should warn you about the “us” after.
.
.
.
.
dear jungkook (the i that i am now, a partial “us”),
what they don’t get is how hard it would be. if i stop being
jungkookandyoongi,
where does the
andyoongi
go? i can’t go back to being
just jungkook
, that’s not who i am anymore. i don’t want to let you go, because if i’m
just
jungkook, it means
you aren’t
he isn’t—
( “shit— i didn’t mean to write, i can just start over–”
“jungkook, you can write this to him, if that’s what feels right. i’m not saying you have to leave all of him behind.”
“i know, i’m sorry— fuck, i’m sorry–” )
it would mean you aren’t a part of me anymore. i can’t lose the andyoongi, i don’t want to, because you can’t be gone. not from me, not for good. i haven’t been just jungkook for so long, i don’t even know if i remember how to be him. i might learn it again, my therapist says it should get easier, little by little. so for now, i’ll be jungkookandyoongi. and maybe someday i can be jungkook andyoongi.
.
.
.
.
after
jungkookandyoongi,
there was jungkook. and sometimes, there was
jungkook and yoongi.