Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jungkook is always cold in Abeonim’s house.

Despite this, he never dares to touch the thermostat. He’s gotten used to shivering most mornings, fumbling for a jacket with bleary eyes and a foggy mind. Abeonim insists that it’s never too cold, that Jungkook is merely too young and thin to have enough body fat to keep him warm. There’s always a new excuse when Jungkook mentions it. Jungkook lets him have it.

It’s one of those days, though, where no matter how many layers he pulls on, the shiver refuses to leave his spine. He goes through the routine of Mondays, where he and Abeonim do the groceries together, walk in the park, pick up food from their favorite restaurant, and settle down with Abeonim’s favorite TV program in the evening.

Jungkook sits on the living room floor, table of medications before him, eyes flitting from the romance drama playing on the screen, back down to the pill organizer. The one thing he’ll always appreciate about Abeonim is his exemplary taste in dramas. Somehow, Jungkook hasn’t gotten tired of them in the last three months of working here.

“Jungkook-ah, look.” Abeonim nudges him on the shoulder, pointing a crooked finger at the screen. Jungkook lifts his chin for a moment, careful not to catch his finger in the pill cutter. The two main characters are out together on a date, swinging their interlocked hands. “You need to find someone like that girl, okay? Someone respectful and sweet.”

“Mm,” Jungkook agrees—Abeonim doesn't know that he’s gay, so he plays along. Most nights, at least whenever episodes of this drama comes out, he mentions something about Jungkook finding a nice girl to settle down with. It doesn’t bother him, so much as it endears him. “But don't you remember what she did in the beginning of the show?”

Abeonim frowns, one hand perched atop his walking cane, the other resting limp in his lap. “What did she do?” he asks, blinking slowly towards the TV. Jungkook smiles as he organizes the pills into the container. Remembering details from previous episodes helps jog Abeonim’s deficient memory. Some days are harder than others.

“You don't remember?” Jungkook glances over his shoulder, pressing each slot shut. Another burst of cool air rushes over Jungkook’s neck. “With her boss?”

“Oh… Yes, how rude of her to humiliate him,” Abeonim mutters, clicking his tongue. He leans back and props his cane beside him, watching the show again. The two characters are standing on a beach shore, waves crashing onto the sand. They’re talking about their families. “Jungkook-ah, turn it up.”

Jungkook raises the volume slightly. If he does it too much, then he could risk Abeonim becoming even more hard-of-hearing. Usually Abeonim doesn’t make too much of a fuss; he’s a quiet, but tender old man, who takes to things with a gentle hand. Jungkook likes him, even if his disease makes him so forgetful.

Even with his detrimental illness, he manages to have a positive attitude. Jungkook’s dealt with patients who are borderline violent, so he knows first-hand how frustrating it can be when procedures don’t go the way they’re supposed to. Abeonim is mellow in comparison to others who have more severe diagnoses.

The episode ends on a cliffhanger as Jungkook lays out a glass of water and Abeonim’s container of medication. He seems to be dozing off for a late evening nap, eyes fluttering shut.

“Okay, Abeonim, I’m going to change out of my uniform now,” Jungkook says, meeting Abeonim’s eyes to make sure he understands completely. All Abeonim does is wave his hand, as if he’s dismissing Jungkook, then grumbles under his breath about taking his meds.

Even as Jungkook heads for the kitchen, he still can’t shake off the chill. When he woke up this morning and got dressed for work, he even layered a tank top and long-sleeve shirt under his uniform, and he’s wearing a jacket and socks and everything. Somehow, he thinks Abeonim might be right for telling him to drink hot tea. Maybe it’ll warm him from the inside out.

There’s some shuffling in the living room, but Jungkook pays no mind, figuring it’s just Abeonim getting comfortable on the couch for a nap. Jungkook busies himself with housework, clearing the kitchen counters and emptying the sink full of dishes. It’s just the two of them, usually, and Jungkook likes that in comparison to his last job.

On weekends, he goes home and boxes himself into his tiny apartment, waiting for Monday to come again. There’s not much he likes to do outside of work, and he hasn't had the chance to make friends in this neighborhood, but it’s not cause for concern. Getting along with Abeonim is more than enough, plus he’s pretty good company.

Soon after, Jungkook can hear the heavy snores from Abeonim in the other room. He planned to take another shower, but his phone keeps vibrating in his pocket. All it ends up being are some text messages from his mother asking if he’s well and taking care of himself. Sometimes she gets so worried over nothing.

Just when he heads for his room, the lock on the front door clicks. Jungkook freezes, panic balling in his stomach. Abeonim is still snoring away, and no one should know what the door code is, anyhow. Even Abeonim can barely remember it some days.

But the door swings open, and there’s a man with vacant eyes and unfriendly demeanor, placing suitcases into the entryway, unaware of Jungkook watching him. Jungkook steps forward, afraid, searching for a hint on who this could be. He seems so... familiar with their surroundings. With this space.

“Oh,” is the first thing the strange man says when his gaze falls upon Jungkook, the door shutting quietly behind him. His coat is thicker than anything Jungkook has owned, buttoned around his lean body, socked feet curled against the wooden floors. The man looks Jungkook up and down, and asks, “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jungkook replies, hushed to not wake Abeonim. He reaches for the living room door, slowly pulling it shut.

The man shifts, evidently confused and uncomfortable, eyes darting around the kitchen with suspicion.

Jungkook stretches his neck, trying to understand more on who this stranger is. “I work here,” he continues, “for the old man who lives here.”

The man’s eyes snap back to Jungkook when he speaks. The chill on his body has only intensified with the man’s judgment, goosebumps spreading from his biceps, all the way down Jungkook’s thighs. He’s not sure if it’s the temperature or his mild fear that’s making his entire body tremble.

“For my father,” the man says, his thick eyebrows relaxing upon this realization. His eyes do another scan of Jungkook’s body, assessing him. Something about his gaze is slightly unnerving. Does Abeonim even have a son? “You're his caregiver.”

Jungkook nods slowly, bowing a little. “I’m actually a nurse too,” he says softly, “and you are his son?”

The man's lips twist into a disbelieving grimace. “Of course he didn’t tell you about me,” he mumbles, unbuttoning his coat slowly.

Jungkook stares at the broad, defined shoulders underneath, sort of ashamed for the spark of attraction he feels. This is his patient’s son. He shouldn’t be thinking about someone like that. Even if it’s just a brief thought, it’s so beyond the scope of unprofessional. If there’s one thing Jungkook takes pride in, is his ability to keep his work and personal lives separate.

“Do you... need help with those?” Jungkook asks, pointing to the suitcases. They seem overused, a bit beat-up and scratched, faded stickers plastered all over the smallest one like you see in the movies. New York, Paris, Dubai—all these big cities from around the world.

“I’m fine,” the man replies, a little snappy. Jungkook scrunches up his nose. Is this seriously the son of Abeonim, someone who is always keen to emphasize on respect? “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

Jungkook turns towards the four doors clustered together in the small hallway. He points to the one on the far end, the one off-limits to him. “That must be your room,” he says, and reaches for one of the bags. His mother would scold him if he didn’t. The man doesn’t protest, anyway. “What's your name?”

“Min Yoongi,” the man grumbles, sounding just like his father—Jungkook nearly smiles at the uncanny resemblance. The more he looks, the more he notices how they have small, hereditary similarities. The same nose, and eyes—even down to the shape of his face.

They both carry the bags to the room at the end of the hall. Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, opening the door slowly. Too curious for his own good, Jungkook cranes his neck to try to peer past the door frame. He doesn’t get to see much, other than a cluttered desk, before Yoongi is shutting the door with his luggage inside.

“What’s your name?” Yoongi asks, lifting both his eyebrows. This close, Jungkook notices the bags beneath his eyes, gray and tired. The slight flare of his nostrils, the tension in his perfect posture. “I didn't even know my father had his own, ah, nurse.”

The way he says it is so condescending, as if Yoongi is somehow better than him. Jungkook has to hold himself back from retorting. He’s just cold, and a little tired, and isn’t in too much of a chatting mood. A few more remarks from Abeonim’s son, and Jungkook will probably explode.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook tells him, bowing again. This time, Yoongi returns the bow, but still holds himself stiffly. All Jungkook wants to do is take a hot shower and curl up in bed with some tea. “Your father is sleeping in the living room, but um, I’m actually on a break now, so... I’ll be in my own room.”

“Oh, okay.” Yoongi nods his head, stepping back towards the kitchen and living room. His gaze lingers on Jungkook, then he abruptly looks away. “I might ask you some questions later. Just about his condition and stuff.”

“Sure.” Jungkook inches towards his bedroom door, forcing a smile. It’s not so much his room, as it is a guest room, but there was no other space for him and the weekend-shift nurse to use. “Nice meeting you. I hope we can get along well.”

Yoongi bows his head again, and continues on to the kitchen without uttering another word.

Huh. How odd, Jungkook thinks, as he prepares for his shower.

He never knew Abeonim had a son. They were paired together at the beginning of December last year, by the in-house nursing organization Jungkook works for, but over the last couple of months, he hasn’t heard much about Abeonim’s family. Occasionally about his wife, but he never mentioned anything about a son.

Even then, it’s surprising. There are no pictures of Yoongi around the house. When Jungkook took this job, he only corresponded with Abeonim’s doctor, who was the one that recommended a caregiver in the first place. Abeonim was scraping by, trying to take care of himself before Jungkook came around.

There must be a reason, though, that Abeonim hasn’t talked about his son. There could be an array of reasons, but Jungkook doesn’t want to speculate. Even if Yoongi acted cold, he could turn out to be a nice guy. Jungkook just needs to keep a positive attitude as he adjusts to an additional person.

As he dries off from his shower, a harrowing thought occurs to him at the sound of something crashing against the floor.

If Abeonim never mentioned Yoongi before, how would he react to suddenly seeing him?

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, leaving his towel on the rack to dry, pulling on his clothes faster than he intended. He nearly slips when leaving the bathroom, following the sound of Abeonim’s raised voice, and Yoongi’s much quieter, fearful one.

“Abeoji, I just—”

“No. No! You expect me to believe your nonsense when you’ve only ever behaved like this?”

“Abeoji—”

Something sharp rips through the skin of Jungkook’s foot, and he accidentally curses out loud in reaction, but it does the trick on getting them both to quiet down. There are broken shards across the living room floor, a chunk of the glass Jungkook used to give Abeonim his water laying in the center of the chaos. He thinks his foot is fine, but there’s probably glass he needs to tweeze out.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, you’re bleeding,” Abeonim says, pushing himself off the couch to come over. He’s the only one in the room wearing slippers. Yoongi is still in his socks, standing away from the glass on the far side of the room, watching with his eyes narrowed.

“Ah, it’s fine, Abeonim,” Jungkook says as he inspects the bottom of his foot, trying to gauge whether he’d need stitches for this or not. It doesn’t seem like the glass is too large or too deep, so he should be fine with a simple bandaid. Abeonim still looks worried. “I’m okay, honestly. It’s getting late, don’t you think? We should have our tea and sleep soon.”

Their routine is to drink hot tea together and go over the events of the day, an easy exercise to keep Abeonim’s memory active. Jungkook will ask him for the date, and go through each hour they spent together, giving him gentle nudges into the right direction if he’s struggling too much. It’s kind of fun to Jungkook—it’s another way for them to bond.

“You’re right. I will go change clothes,” Abeonim replies, forgetting all about Yoongi’s presence, hobbling past Jungkook to his bedroom.

Jungkook sighs and stares at the mess on the floor. It’s going to take a little while to gather all the shards, make sure there are no pieces of glass leftover. Anything and everything poses a risk, it seems. Even water glasses.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, inching closer, tiptoeing to avoid the glass. Jungkook does the same until he’s back in the kitchen, leaning his weight on the table to lift and inspect his foot. “I can, uh, get a first aid—I mean, you’re the nurse, so, I guess I should just—”

“What happened?” Jungkook knows it’s rude to interrupt, but the distress building between Yoongi’s eyebrows is close to ruining Jungkook’s night. He just wants to sort this out and go to bed. “Did you throw it or did he throw it?”

Yoongi’s voice falters, blinking slowly. “My father did,” he replies, more dazed than the rapid, nervous tone he was using before. “I didn’t even do anything. He threw it as soon as he saw me, and yelled at me as if I was a teenager.”

“You probably caught him at a bad time. He was asleep, so he could have been dreaming about something that threw off his perception of reality,” Jungkook explains, lowering his foot back to the floor, even as it bleeds. Yoongi watches with concern. “A first aid kit would be great, actually. I keep one underneath the bathroom sink.”

Without responding, Yoongi turns on his heel and disappears to grab the first aid kit. Jungkook sits on a kitchen table chair, placing his ankle on his thigh to inspect his foot more closely. Much to his relief—because there’s no need to go to the hospital—there’s only a couple pieces wedged into the sole of his foot.

“Here,” Yoongi says, now wearing slippers, setting the first aid kit on the table. Jungkook takes out the supplies he needs, hunching over his foot to pick out the glass. He can feel Yoongi still hovering over his shoulder. “I, uh, actually… don’t know much about what he’s diagnosed with. My aunt—my mom’s sister—told me that he was unwell. I had no idea.”

“I didn’t even know you existed,” Jungkook replies, catching one shard of glass between his tweezers, pulling it out slowly. He sets it on the table, catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s blank expression, before going back to his foot. “Your father has Alzheimer’s disease, but it’s still mild right now. As his primary nurse, I advise you to ease him into your presence.”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook winces as he extracts the second piece of glass. He sets it on the counter, wringing out his stiff hand. “I mean, be gentle with him,” he says, but Yoongi immediately scrunches up his nose. Jungkook has to resist rolling his eyes. “Look, your father is my patient and I’m responsible for him. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, Yoongi-nim, but you showing up unannounced is not something that he can handle well.”

Something in Yoongi’s face shifts, eyebrows relaxing. “Okay. I understand,” he says, watching Jungkook closely as he wipes down the wound. “What exactly do you, uh, do?”

“Mostly help him around. He’s pretty able-bodied, aside from the limp, but he forgets things easily and can’t do much other than watch TV and go outside. When I first started helping him, his behavior was very…” Jungkook trails off, struggling to find the right word that wouldn’t be offensive. “Erratic, maybe? He was just alarmed by a stranger being in his home all the time, but he’s gotten used to me.”

“You’re here all the time?”

“Um, yes.” Jungkook glances up at Yoongi’s face. Yet again, his expression is blank. He has no idea what Yoongi is thinking. “I live here five days a week. There’s another nurse who rotates weekends with me, but I’m your father’s primary nurse, like I said. Will that be an issue?”

“No,” Yoongi says quickly, glancing at Jungkook’s foot while he slaps a bandaid on the wound. Hopefully that’ll hold up until it heals. “I’m just trying to catch up with everything. I’ve been away for… a really long time.”

“I see,” Jungkook mumbles.

It’s hard to stop his mind from wandering in curiosity. What could have possibly kept Yoongi away from his father for so long? And the lack of pictures of him in the house… Jungkook’s not usually the type to be invasive, but he can’t help it. As much as he likes being Abeonim’s nurse, things are very boring around here.

“Well, I’m here if you have more questions,” Jungkook adds, “but I am about to be off-the-clock once your father goes to bed, so maybe it can wait until tomorrow?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Yeah, sure,” he says, stepping back towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “I’m tired from my flight, anyway. So I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods and watches Yoongi retreat into his bedroom, leaving him in the quiet, cold kitchen.

++

The following morning, Yoongi is already awake when Jungkook gets up for the run he goes on before clocking in for the day. He only knows that because as he puts on his workout clothes, he can hear the rumble of the electric kettle, and there’s a waft of coffee that almost never exists because Abeonim insists coffee kills your brain cells.

Jungkook emerges from his room, drifting over to the kitchen. He finds Yoongi sitting at the table, phone in one hand, steaming coffee in front of him. It’s unusual, having another person in the house. Jungkook has gotten so used to the loneliness that comes from living with one old man, that adjusting to this new presence is going to take some time.

“Good morning, Yoongi-nim,” Jungkook greets quietly, afraid he’s interrupting something important on Yoongi’s phone, judging by the intensity of his eyebrows. But Yoongi only lifts his head and nods once in response, turning back to his phone.

Jungkook feels his chest deflate. So maybe he was wrong about Yoongi being cold at first? But then again they still don’t know each other at all…

He shakes it off. Workout first, worrying later.

Jungkook continues with his routine; drinking his pre-workout shake, going for a run with music blaring in his ears. It’s the one time he welcomes the cold, nipping his cheeks, turning him red alongside the exertion. Something about the numbness in his face, the burn in his lungs. He likes it as a start to his day.

Yoongi is gone from the kitchen when he gets back, so Jungkook quietly eats breakfast alone, catching up with the messages on his phone he missed yesterday. Yet again, his parents are begging him to come visit, but it’s always such a hassle to go. By the time Jungkook gets there, he’s too exhausted from work and travel to do anything with them.

So, like usual, he only sends an apology and gives them a sliver of hope that he’ll be able to come later in the month. Jungkook can’t blame them for being upset. Having a job like this consumes all his leisurely time. If he doesn’t rest on the weekends, then he’ll be too burnt out come Monday, and Jungkook would rather hold onto the rest he can get.

“Abeonim,” Jungkook says, when the clock hits eight, waking Abeonim from his sleep. The light is pouring in from the hallway, shining over a section of the room. “It’s time to wake up. Get started on the day.”

Abeonim’s eyebrows lift, then he shifts to lie on his back. Jungkook helps him sit up, against the headboard, then offers the cup of water he brought. Jungkook wasn’t sure if there would be another glass-throwing incident, so he picked a plastic cup instead. There is luckily no throwing of anything.

“Is that stupid boy still here?” Abeonim asks, gesturing with one hand towards the door.

“Your son?” Jungkook asks, guiding Abeonim out of bed, handing off his cane. Abeonim only grunts, shuffling forward with his limp in each step. Jungkook trails after him, pulling his fingers nervously. “Yes, uh, he’s still here.”

Almost on cue, Yoongi yanks open the bathroom door, coming eye-to-eye with his father. Abeonim only shoves past the doorframe, pushing Yoongi aside with his cane, then slams the door in both Yoongi and Jungkook’s faces.

This is not going to be fun, Jungkook realizes.

“He called you stupid,” Jungkook blurts, before he can stop himself. He notices the way Yoongi’s shoulders bristle. There’s still a bit of shaving cream on his face, but Jungkook doesn’t dare to tell him where it is. “I… don’t know why.”

“It’s fine.” Yoongi shrugs, ruffling his messy hair as he turns towards his bedroom. Jungkook watches, still curious about their history; about what could have happened between Yoongi and his father. “I’m used to it, anyway. So don’t be alarmed if he continues insulting me.”

Then he walks away, closing his bedroom door behind him, leaving Jungkook even more puzzled than before.

Throughout the day, Abeonim doesn’t talk as much. Jungkook tries to strike up conversation about the TV program they’re watching, or even simply the weather when they do their walk around the neighborhood in the afternoon. But it’s all in vain.

Nothing seems to get him to budge. Jungkook hasn’t dealt with this level of quietness from Abeonim before, and it’s unnerving. Sure Abeonim has his less-talkative days, but today has been nothing but incoherent hums and grumbles from morning till they have tea before bed. Even then, Abeonim only bids a soft goodnight to Jungkook and that’s it.

Jungkook settles on the living room floor to take notes about this behavioral shift. He feels bad, as he writes that Yoongi’s sudden addition to the household might have something to do with it. But Doctor Kim is adamant that Jungkook notes every single discrepancy and irregularity, so he forces himself through the write-up.

A soft knock on the doorframe brings Jungkook’s head up.

Yoongi looks much less intimidating when he isn’t frowning. He’s dressed comfortably in pajamas, hovering in the doorway. It could have been that thick wool coat he was wearing when he walked in that made Jungkook hesitant of him. Well, there’s that, and the whole thing about him turning up unannounced and scaring the shit out of Jungkook.

“You got a minute?” Yoongi asks, scratching the back of his neck. Jungkook glances at his write-up—not quite finished—and nods his head, pushing it aside. “I’m, uh, I was hoping you could tell me more in detail about what my father is going through.”

“Sure. You can sit,” Jungkook says, forcing an easygoing smile. Before, he didn’t have to worry about who would see him after work hours, but now he has a concerned family member on his radar. Relaxing in this house is about to become ten times harder.

For some reason, Yoongi inches closer with hesitancy. His demeanor has changed since yesterday, less rigid and more afraid. Jungkook hopes it isn’t his fault. Most people say he has too much of a baby-face to be intimidating, but there’s always a chance. Who knows what intimidates other people?

“What do you want to know?” Jungkook asks, opening his water bottle to take a sip. Yoongi follows the movement with his eyes, then glances at the unfinished write-up on the table. “I can start you with the basics?”

“Yeah, that’s—good.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck again. “I did some of my own research, but… I think I’d rather know the specifics from you, since you’ve been with my dad.”

Jungkook nods. He’s gotten that from the family of other patients. There’s a certain amount of trust he’s given as a healthcare professional. If Jungkook had bad intentions, it’d be really easy to contort the truth for his benefit. But he knows first hand the difficulties of affording healthcare, so that isn’t on the forefront of his mind. It is for so many others, though.

“I’ve only been with him for three months. That’s approximately how long his diagnosis has been,” Jungkook explains, reaching for the folder on the couch behind him. He feels kind of bad for Yoongi, in the sense that he’s coming into this completely blindsided. “He was living completely alone before. When exactly did you leave?”

Yoongi’s eyes seem to droop. “It’s been almost fourteen years,” he says, jaw clenching. Jungkook lowers his folder back to the table, stunned. That’s a long time for Abeonim to have supported himself—maybe he should check in on his parents. “I haven’t been back since I left. It’s—it’s complicated.”

“All that isolation must have escalated the damage to his brain…” Jungkook mumbles, fiddling with the first page in Abeonim’s folder. He wants to ease Yoongi into this. There’s obviously some familial tension between Yoongi and his father, and Jungkook doesn’t want to create more problems. “Are you staying? I’m sorry if it seems forward of me to ask, but I need to know for Abeonim’s sake.”

“No, no. I’m—yeah. I’m here to stay. For good.”

Jungkook nods, finding that a relief. At least he won’t have to deal with the loss on Abeonim’s end. That’ll throw off any progress they’ve made so far, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to relive the first two weeks of Abeonim being under his care.

“Good. That’s really good, actually,” Jungkook says, finally pushing the folder across the table, gesturing for Yoongi to take it. “Do you need me to explain what Alzheimer’s is?”

“No, just… what he specifically needs.”

“Alright, well, I said yesterday that he’s mostly forgetful at this stage.” Jungkook checks Yoongi’s face, making sure he’s following even as he looks through the folder. “He needs supervision pretty much consistently, unless he’s asleep. He needs help remembering how to do certain things, and encouragement to exercise and eat on time. Overall, he’s an exemplary patient.”

Yoongi doesn't respond immediately, still paging through the folder. “Does insurance cover all these payments?” he asks, pushing over the stapled packet of papers.

Jungkook peers at them, biting the inside of his cheek. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know how Abeonim has been able to afford this in-house care over the last three months. Jungkook gets paid through his employer, not directly from Abeonim. But he’s sure that insurance would cover it, right? Especially considering he was living alone for several years.

“I don’t know. I can ask the insurance company,” Jungkook says, unsure of how else to phrase it. That’s the best he can do when he doesn’t have a concrete answer. “I get paid by the company I work for, since we specialize in aid for the ill elderly. There haven’t been any financial issues so far…”

“I can pay these off,” Yoongi says, tapping the front of the packet. He says it so nonchalantly, with a simple shrug of his shoulders. Jungkook wonders where he’s been in the last fourteen years to give him the funds to just casually pay off medical bills. “I would rather not be in any more debt.”

“That’s understandable.” Jungkook shuffles through some more papers, hesitantly sliding over a brochure. “I’m, uh, not sure that you’ll want this, but I’ll leave it as an option anyway. There are spaces that support the family members of Alzheimer’s patients.”

It’s presumptive of him to offer this to Yoongi. Jungkook knows that it can’t be Yoongi’s first time grappling with a sick parent, not when he knows the intimate details of Yoongi’s mother’s unfortunate death. On more than one occasion, he’s had to console Abeonim after a bad dream about her. Even the positive ones about her end up rattling his brain.

Yoongi hands the brochure back without sparing it more than a glance. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” he says, that slight crease between his eyebrows returning. Jungkook sighs, and accepts the brochure again, returning it to the folder. He wonders how draining it’s going to be, working alongside someone like Yoongi.

“Is there anything else?” Jungkook asks, repositioning the write-up in front of him. Once he gets this done, he can turn in for the night. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can fall asleep before midnight and be up early enough for a real workout.

“No, thanks.”

Yoongi doesn’t move from his spot. Jungkook counts five seconds before he speaks again.

“Actually, can you let me know your schedule? I don’t start working until next week, so I want to make sure they align,” Yoongi explains, his tone softer now. Jungkook looks at him, head tilted, finding it a little funny how his confidence level fluctuates so easily. He’s conflicted on how to feel about Yoongi. One moment he’s rude, the next he’s so kind.

“My personal schedule?”

“Yeah, I just want to know when you’ll be here and when you won’t.” Yoongi takes out his phone, then offers it to Jungkook. “I’ll also need your phone number.”

Jungkook takes Yoongi’s phone, carefully entering his name and number, and his address. “I added where I stay on weekends in case there’s an emergency and you can’t reach me via phone,” he explains when he hands it back. Jungkook is anxious just thinking about what it’ll be like when Abeonim and Yoongi are alone together.

“Um…” Jungkook continues, fumbling with his fingers. “I work from eight a.m. to nine p.m., usually. I get one four-hour break, which I usually take thirty minutes at a time or when I need it. I don’t go out at night, so you don’t have to worry about that… Sometimes I cook, but I’m not great—”

“That’s fine, I can cook,” Yoongi interrupts, head tilted down at his phone. Jungkook clamps his mouth shut for a second, wondering if he should even continue. Clearly Yoongi isn’t even listening to him. “For the most part, I want you to focus on helping my dad. Just take care of him. That’s your job, right?”

Jungkook rolls his lips into his mouth. “Yeah,” he mutters, leaving it at that. Whether he realizes it or not, Yoongi is kind of arrogant. Just because Jungkook works here doesn’t mean he deserves harsh treatment. “If that’s all, I’m going to finish this up and go to sleep soon. Like I said before, let me know if you have more questions.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Yoongi mumbles, distracted.

Jungkook has to stop himself from laughing in annoyance. The dismissive tone, the cold-shouldering, the blunt words—everything about Yoongi adds up and it’s starting to piss him off. Because as nice as Yoongi is, it feels like Jungkook is doing a coin toss trying to talk to him. His demeanor shifts every two minutes and it’s weird.

Either way, Jungkook simply returns to his write-up. Yoongi stays seated across from him for five minutes, then gets up and leaves the room. Jungkook finishes up when he hears the shuffle of shoes, keys jingling. He checks around the corner of the doorframe to see Yoongi standing at the entrance, pulling on his coat.

As he leaves, Jungkook wonders exactly what he’s going to learn with Yoongi around. He hasn’t been doing this job for long in general, he was working as a hospice nurse before, so it’s all the more reason to make him anxious about Yoongi. It’s one thing to interact with Abeonim alone, but a completely different thing when Yoongi is there, potentially offsetting any meaningful progress they make.

Time will tell after this week, Jungkook guesses.

++

Much to Jungkook’s surprise, Yoongi keeps to himself.

He lets Jungkook do his job, for the most part. He takes care of cooking and keeping the space tidy, and stays out of Jungkook's and Abeonim’s way when they’re doing something or going somewhere. Yoongi only bothers Jungkook at the end of the night, quietly inquiring, “how was he today?”

But that’s it. Jungkook wasn’t expecting this much room to continue his job, but there’s so much relief in not needing to keep Abeonim from snapping at Yoongi when he does show his face. It’s a little disconcerting, but Abeonim hardly recognizes Yoongi as his son. Jungkook makes note of it, even though he can understand that after fourteen years, Yoongi might not look the exact same.

After a week, Yoongi starts going to work in the morning and returns a little after five, pulling off his tie with a grumbled, “hello, Jungkook-ssi.” Jungkook sticks to his routine with Abeonim, but things are as unsteady as always, and he wears Jungkook out with his fluctuating behavior.

The sad thing is that Jungkook hasn’t stopped feeling lonely.

He used to cling to Abeonim, fighting off the feeling everytime it creeped up on him. But now, there’s someone else there, but not quite. Yoongi almost feels like a ghost that’s living with them. If Jungkook didn’t see him every morning, then he would be convinced he doesn’t even exist.

As Jungkook settles on the couch with a cup of hot tea, clutching it for his much needed warmth, he watches through the doorway as Yoongi shuffles around the kitchen.

He’s an odd character, from what Jungkook has noticed. The constant droop of his eyes, the ever-present frown. The way he nods curtly at Jungkook every morning, not bothering with as little as a verbal greeting. The way he comes back from work, full suit, dropping his bag by the door to beeline for the shower. He’s just… a mystery.

“Can I sit here?” Yoongi asks, startling Jungkook out of his thoughts. He barely noticed that Yoongi migrated from the kitchen to the living room. “I just wanted to watch some TV, if that’s fine.”

“Yeah, that’s not—I mean, it’s fine, I’m not using it.” Jungkook shuffles over on the couch to give Yoongi as much room as possible. The bitter aroma of coffee fills the room as Yoongi flips through the cable catalog, then opens Netflix.

But Jungkook doesn’t pay for Netflix, and neither does Abeonim, so they usually suffer through commercials on the cable networks.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook, puzzled like somehow this is his fault, and asks, “You don’t have Netflix?”

“Um.” Jungkook bites this inside of his cheek, then slowly shakes his head. “No. I can’t afford it.”

Yoongi sighs, places his coffee on the center table. “It’s fine,” he mutters, taking his phone out of his sweatpants. That unpleasant frowny face is back. All Jungkook did was speak and suddenly Yoongi’s bothered. “I have my own account. Just surprised that no one else does. I’ll log in, and you can feel free to use it.”

Yoongi says that, but since coming here, Jungkook hasn’t felt free to do anything. He barely feels comfortable enough to leave his room when he’s not working, in fear of Yoongi telling him off for it. As far as Jungkook knows, Yoongi is probably the one funding his employment now, so any wrong move could get him kicked out. Frustrations with Abeonim aside, he quite likes this job.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says anyway, and smiles when Yoongi gives him a quick glance.

The air is wound so tight between them. Jungkook knows he’s shy, but he’s never had this much trouble talking to a person before. And he’s itching to talk to someone that’s actually in his age range, not anyone who is thirty years older than him. Jungkook can’t even remember the last time he talked to someone who wasn’t over twice his age, it’s been that long.

“You—uh, are you adjusting okay to work?” Jungkook asks, then grimaces at the sound of his own wobbly voice. These damn nerves.

“I mean,” Yoongi clears his throat, then looks up at Jungkook. His eyes seem tired, like usual, only a slightly more detached look in them. Less like his head is in the room with them, and more like he’s drifting around in space somewhere. “It’s… fine. Just different. I pretty much lived out of two suitcases for the last ten years, so coming home is weird.”

Jungkook lifts his eyebrows. “What?” he asks, dumbfounded. How could someone live out of two suitcases for that long? Jungkook doubts he could ever find the bandwidth for a job like that. He considered being a travel nurse, but the thought of not having a steady homebase turned him off from it. “What exactly did you do?”

Yoongi goes back to flicking through his phone as he talks. “I worked for a multinational architecture firm. I’m an architect,” he says, sounding bored by it. Maybe it isn’t something he likes? “I worked all over the place. Designed a lot of different buildings everywhere. It’s cool, but when you’re on the go for that long, you get fed up.”

“Wow,” Jungkook murmurs, still stunned at the thought of moving around so often. “That’s really cool. Are you still doing that now?”

“Hm. Work at a smaller firm out here now. They were more than happy to take me in and put me in charge.” Yoongi cracks a smile, looking at Jungkook again. There’s something funny about the way he looks at Jungkook, a bit of mischief in the curl of his lips. “Word of advice, kid, make sure you love what you do. No one likes an employee who does the job half-assed.”

Jungkook frowns. That last part makes it sound personal.

“I’m not a kid,” is what comes out of Jungkook’s mouth instead.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side. His smile grows, like what Jungkook said was funny or something. But it’s true, Jungkook is twenty-eight and proud and not a kid anymore. After the things he’s seen, he feels very far from being one. He didn’t go through the hell of nursing school to be called a kid.

“Sure you’re not,” Yoongi mumbles, kind of dismissively. He looks at the TV, going back to inputting his email to log into Netflix.

Jungkook huffs and repeats, “I’m not. I’m twenty-eight. I’m not a kid.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi doesn’t even look at him this time, that’s how much he sounds like he doesn’t believe him.

“Yeah.” Jungkook crosses his arms, defensiveness heating his cheeks. All he wants now is to prove Yoongi wrong. “Maybe you’re just old, Yoong-nim.”

Yoongi falters and bites his lower lip, turning his head back towards Jungkook. “Almost thirty-five,” he says, smirking with his eyebrows raised. His eyes flick down to look over Jungkook’s body. So, so cocky. “Do you think that’s old, Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook takes a sip of his tea, furrows his eyebrows, and mutters, “Weren’t you going to watch Netflix?”

“Do you think I’m old?” Yoongi sits up, trying to make himself appear bigger than Jungkook. Which is just silly, because Jungkook knows for a fact that he’s taller, and definitely more bulked up in muscle. He could probably flip Yoongi over without breaking a sweat.

“Do you need any help using the TV, ahjussi?”

“Yah!” Yoongi’s laughing. “You brat.”

Jungkook can’t contain his giggles, stuffing his free hand in front of his mouth to stifle it. But unfortunately he kind of forgets he’s holding a mug of hot tea with his other hand and it spills past the rim, right onto the front of his t-shirt. And ow, that fucking stings.

“Shit, are you okay?” Yoongi asks immediately, tugging the mug out of Jungkook’s grip before even more tea could spill.

Jungkook winces and lifts the hem of his t-shirt, looking down at his chest. It’s flushed red, from his sternum down to his bellybutton, damp with his ginger tea. He smells like ginger now. Which isn’t completely bad, but it’s way too strong for his sensitive nose.

“Fine. I should take a shower though,” Jungkook mumbles, getting up from the couch, taking his shirt off completely. Cold water should definitely keep it from scarring. At least the tea wasn’t scorching hot, that would have done much more damage.

He freezes, suddenly, because he remembers that his tattoo is exposed now that he’s shirtless, and that’s technically not allowed.

“Please don’t say anything,” Jungkook says when he catches Yoongi staring with wide eyes, quick to cover himself with his shirt. He’s just standing here all flustered, when he should be rushing to cool his irritated skin. “I’m—I’m not supposed to have anything, or show them if I do, so please—”

“It’s fine.” Yoongi finally averts his gaze, settling it back on the TV. It seems his Netflix account has loaded onto the screen. The icon for his profile is one of those kids from Stranger Things. “I, uh, don’t mind. It looks cool, anyway. As long as Abeoji doesn’t see it, then it should be okay.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “He hasn’t seen it,” he says, glancing down at the ink curving along his ribcage. He brushes his fingers over it, a shiver running over his bare spine. “But, yeah, good to know. Thank you.”

When all he gets is a grunt in response, Jungkook makes his escape to the bathroom. He stands under cold water for a couple of minutes, letting it cool his heated skin, either from the tea or the way that Yoongi couldn’t stop looking at him.

He doesn’t want to mistake it for infatuation, but that look was dark. Jungkook hasn’t been looked at like that in a while, probably not since he got into some random guy’s bed between finishing nursing school and getting his first job. Something about Yoongi’s eyes, the intensity of his stare, the fact that he couldn’t look away at first.

It adds up. It could have just been the tattoo, but Jungkook trusts his gaydar. Just from that, he gets the tiniest inkling that Yoongi might be gay too.

Which shouldn’t even matter, Jungkook reminds himself as he dries off. Yoongi is Abeonim’s son, and Abeonim is Jungkook’s patient. Anything like that is absolutely off-limits, Jungkook shouldn’t even be thinking about Yoongi like that.

But… even when Jungkook settles down beside Yoongi on the couch, watching some American drama, he can’t help but allow his mind to wander down that path.

He finds it hard to believe that Yoongi is almost thirty-five. His face is young, only slightly worn with exhaustion, but his skin practically shines under the soft living room lights. When Jungkook first saw him, he thought Yoongi was closer to him in age, not a whole seven fucking years older than him.

It’s better than talking to Abeonim, though. Jungkook would take a seven-year age difference over a forty-year one any day. Plus it does feel like he has successfully broken the awkward barrier he had with Yoongi before. Whatever made him so abhorrently moody is suddenly gone. Jungkook counts it a little victory.

At the end of the episode, Jungkook gathers his courage to softly say, “I do love what I do, by the way.”

Yoongi looks over, surprise briefly etched into his features, then everything softens. His arched eyebrows, his widened eyes, his pursed lips. Everything just relaxes, turns into this earnest onlooking, like Jungkook is saying something prophetic. Then there it is again, that flash of heat in his gaze that brings tingles to Jungkook’s skin.

“Yeah?” Yoongi asks, voice just as soft as the way he’s looking at Jungkook. It’s a complete one-eighty from the way he was talking to Jungkook earlier, less incredulity in his tone. “What about it do you love?”

Jungkook sighs, trying to come up with a substantial answer. He didn’t expect such a hefty question in response. To be honest, he didn’t expect a response period. He just wanted to end the conversation that went unfinished before he spilled tea on himself like an idiot.

“I get to help people,” Jungkook offers, fiddling with a thread coming loose from the couch. There doesn’t seem to be anything stronger than that coming to his mind. “It… it sucks, in the line of work I’m in. I’ve dealt with a lot of different types of patients since I started working. But making a difference to even one of them is good enough.”

“Is that…” Yoongi trails off, then regains his confidence in a couple of seconds. “Is that what you see when you’re taking care of my dad?”

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, too afraid to look up from the thread to meet Yoongi’s eyes again. He’s afraid he might shrivel up into ash right here if he acknowledges Yoongi’s burning gaze again. “Abeonim was just very isolated when I started working with him. He… he needed companionship. And I think along with everything else, I’m helping him with that.”

Yoongi shuffles beside Jungkook, not replying. Jungkook lets his own words sink in, trying to make sense of it all. He’s had so much time to himself the last couple of months, to think about what direction he’s taking his life and career. A part of him has accepted that there’s no easy way to navigate being a nurse to terminally-ill patients, but another part hates that reality completely.

“That’s good,” Yoongi mumbles, but Jungkook knows what bitterness sounds like when he hears it. Something about Jungkook being Abeonim’s nurse clearly irks Yoongi, but he doesn’t know what exactly, or why, for that matter.

Silence engulfs the room for a minute. Jungkook keeps his head lowered and finger twisted around the poor loose thread.

“I’m going to bed now,” Yoongi says, breaking the atmosphere with his abrupt movements, standing in a rush to leave. Jungkook only lifts his head to watch him go into the kitchen, then down the hall to slip into his room.

Then it’s just Jungkook by himself, sitting in this room he’s learned to find comfort in, but always has loneliness creeping in its shadows. Even as he struggles to understand Yoongi, to befriend him, he doesn’t forget the pressure that builds behind his eyes when he thinks too hard about it.

The tears blink themselves down his cheeks. They come down slowly, with his chest heaving, letting out soft, helpless sniffles. As much as Jungkook wishes he weren’t so pathetic to cry at such a trivial thing, he doesn’t wipe the salty feeling on the corners of his mouth, the tears that drip from his chin to his shirt.

Because loneliness, Jungkook is learning, is just a side effect of who he is. No matter how hard he tries to carve a place for himself in this world, the loneliness returns like an old friend. Most days, Jungkook doesn’t have much of a choice but to greet it with, “hello,” and let it settle in him the way cold weather does.

++

“Jungkook-ah, can you read this for me?” Abeonim asks, shoving his phone in Jungkook’s face. The screen’s brightness is ramped up to full, blinding Jungkook while he tries to sort between the lights and darks to do their laundry.

“Abeonim,” Jungkook says with a sigh, taking the phone from his palm, adjusting the brightness and handing over Abeonim’s reading glasses. “Try reading it outloud to me, and if you still can’t, I don’t mind doing it.”

Abeonim huffs. “You’re such a demanding boy,” he says as he slips on his glasses, and Jungkook grins, taking it as a compliment. There’s always a hint of fondness in his tone. “Ah, okay, here we go.”

Jungkook listens as Abeonim fumbles through the news headline. He isn’t as bad as he claims to be. Even if he trips over his words, and has to sound them out slowly like a toddler learning to read, he’s better than some of Jungkook’s previous patients. He wasn’t kidding when he told Yoongi that Abeonim is an exemplary patient. He usually doesn’t need to ask twice about anything.

“See,” Jungkook says, lifting his eyebrows, giving Abeonim a knowing look. “You didn’t need me at all.”

“Yah, the other boy—oh, what’s his name?”

Jungkook pauses his sorting. “Yoongi?” he asks slowly. It definitely isn’t the nurse on the weekends, because she’s a middle-aged woman. The only other boy he could be talking about is Yoongi. “Are you talking about your son, Abeonim?”

Abeonim clears his throat. “Of course not,” he grumbles, and practically snatches up his walking cane from where it rests against the wall. With a bit of Jungkook’s support, he gets up again, and continues, “Nonsense, my son left me ages ago. No, I’m talking about that other boy who lives here. What was his name again?”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook repeats, softer. He can hear the front door opening and closing, and he knows that Yoongi should not hear this conversation.

“That’s funny,” Abeonim says, taking a step forward. Yoongi appears in the doorframe, yanking off his tie as he passes through to the kitchen. “My son had that same name.”

Jungkook can see it, the moment that Yoongi realizes they’re talking about him. His posture goes still, then completely upright and rigid. The very blank look he had on his face when Jungkook met him overtakes his expression. Jungkook takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet his eyes, silently urging him to leave.

But Yoongi doesn’t get the message. He just stands there, stone-still, watching them like a hawk.

“You know, my son was quite stubborn.” Abeonim takes a step forward, but somehow doesn’t notice Yoongi standing a few feet away from them. “He must have been six. Or no, seven or eight. A little boy. He always cried. So, so stubborn. Never went to school without giving Appa a hug.”

Jungkook smiles at the thought of little-Yoongi throwing a tantrum to Abeonim about his goodbye hug. It’s endearing, until he remembers that Yoongi is still in the doorway, blocking the path for Abeonim to get back to his bedroom.

“He was so smart,” Abeonim continues, hobbling another step towards Yoongi. Jungkook fights down the urge to say something. There hasn’t been another outburst since Yoongi arrived a couple weeks ago, but he senses that if Abeonim realizes that Yoongi is here, this situation won’t end well.

“How so?” Jungkook urges, guiding Abeonim towards the door.

“He was smart. But wasted his time.” Abeonim clicks his tongue, lifting his chin a little. Yoongi flinches when they look at each other, and in a blink of an eye, he disappears from the doorway. “Argued with me. Silly boy. Took after his mother’s stubbornness.”

Jungkook only hums in answer. They’ve made it to the hallway, at least. Just a few more steps until Abeonim’s room.

“Used to be a bad neighborhood. Unsafe.” Abeonim nearly trips on Yoongi’s work bag, but Jungkook steadies him, still aptly listening. The more he learns about Yoongi and Abeonim’s past, the more he wants to know. “Yoongi ran around with bad kids. Such a silly, stubborn boy. He used to cry a lot, did you know?”

“You mentioned,” Jungkook says with a smile, helping Abeonim lie on his back, fluffing up the pillows for him. “I think you should rest now. I’ll wake you up and we can eat dinner, and talk more about your son, if you’d like?”

“Ah, yes, my son,” Abeonim says, nodding his head decisively. “Stubborn boy. I miss him.”

Jungkook’s chest aches. Everything inside of him is just screaming to bring Yoongi to him, to help them reconcile. But it isn’t his place to do that, so all Jungkook can do is wish for Abeonim to rest well and leave him to his sleepy musings.

When Jungkook quietly treks back to the kitchen, he finds Yoongi at the counter, pouring alcohol into a glass. He sips it slowly at first, maybe trying to savor the taste. But then he downs everything at once, and a thought dawns on Jungkook: Yoongi is trying to drink his feelings away.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Jungkook says, leaning his weight on the doorframe.

Yoongi jumps, looking up with startled eyes. “I—I didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook has seen enough distraught family members to know the way Yoongi must be feeling. “I don’t blame you. For drinking, I mean.”

“Don’t you?” Yoongi sighs and pours more alcohol in his glass. “Abeoji would.”

Jungkook watches Yoongi swallow his drink in a few slow gulps, and for some reason, it brings an awful, tight feeling to his throat.

“He blamed me for everything.” Yoongi sets his glass down with a gentle clink, lips smacking. Jungkook clenches his hands. “He’d blame me for this too. Like I didn’t watch him do it my whole childhood.”

“People change,” Jungkook says, letting his fists go. “It’s a side effect of age, and illness.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No,” he says, and pauses. Jungkook holds his breath. A wailing siren cuts through the deafening quiet. “People like that don’t change.”

Jungkook refuses to believe that. “If I can detect a personality change in just over three months, what’s to say he hasn’t changed in the last fourteen years?” he asks instead, challenging Yoongi, because he won’t let a drunk man win this. “What can you know about change if you haven’t seen him properly? You can barely say a word to him.”

“Jungkook-ssi.” Yoongi speaks swiftly; curt.

Jungkook breathes deeply through his nose. He crossed a line with that last part, he knows, but it’s a painful truth that Yoongi needs to hurry up and digest so they can continue improving Abeonim’s health.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for you,” Jungkook says firmly, only getting an exasperated eye roll in response. “Your father is sick. I think you fail to remember that. From what you told me, you came back for him. The least you could do is make an effort.”

Nobody moves. Jungkook barely even breathes.

Then Yoongi points to the empty space beside Jungkook’s body and says, “Get out.”

That… was unexpected. And entirely unnecessary.

“Yoongi-nim.” Jungkook holds his ground. He doesn’t play follow the leader. He’s not a puppy that people can lead around on a leash. “I know I work here, but you can’t order me to do something.”

“You don’t understand. You didn’t know him.” Yoongi reaches for the bottle again, but Jungkook moves faster to snatch it away. The last thing they need is for Yoongi to get drunk before Abeonim goes to bed for the night. He would rather not find out what chaos that could bring. “You don’t know how he treated me.”

Jungkook reaches out, hesitates, then lets his hand settle against Yoongi’s shoulder blade. “I don’t,” he agrees, because it wouldn’t be fair of him to side with Abeonim, when he truly doesn’t know how Yoongi may have been treated. “But, as much as I don’t blame you for drinking, there are better options. Drink some water. Unwind. Maybe, if you would like to, we can talk about this once you’re feeling a bit better.”

Yoongi slumps under Jungkook’s touch, leaning his arms on the counter, forehead in his hands. Jungkook pulls his hand away with a sigh, capping the bottle of alcohol to replace it on the shelf.

This reaction must have something to do with the reason Yoongi left for so long. He said he worked around the world for ten years, but he left fourteen years ago. Probably the start of university, then. Either way, this rift between Yoongi and Abeonim seems to be a lot bigger than he initially guessed.

It takes a bit of coaxing, but Yoongi drinks a glass of water and disappears to take his shower. In the meantime, Jungkook orders out for dinner and puts in the first load of laundry. After the kind of week he’s had, all he wants is for it to be over. It’s just out of reach. Only one more day, and he can finally rest.

A few minutes before the food arrives, Jungkook wakes Abeonim for dinner, and Yoongi comes out of the shower shortly after, quietly joining them at the table to eat. Abeonim doesn’t mention his presence, but he does talk an awful lot about Yoongi when he was a kid. About him running around the park, or begging for a hug before he left, or how when he got older, he had a rebellious phase where he bleached his hair.

The conversation doesn’t seem to bother Yoongi as much. At least, he doesn’t look like it does. All Jungkook notices is that his ears start turning red whenever Abeonim starts relaying something embarrassing. Jungkook is surprised that Abeonim can remember all of this, granted that he’s old and has Alzhiemer’s, but it’s entertaining at the very least.

It’s only when they’re doing their daily review, that Jungkook realizes why Abeonim is talking so much about Yoongi today.

“It’s his birthday,” Abeonim says, tapping the calendar date with his index finger. He squints, adjusting his reading glasses. “Yes, that’s right. Thirty—thirty years ago?”

“I think it’s thirty-five, Abeonim,” Jungkook tells him.

“Yes, thirty-five,” Abeonim agrees, then hides a yawn with his hand. Jungkook carefully folds the calendar back up, returning it to the drawer in the kitchen.

Jungkook helps Abeonim go to bed after they finish up daily review, shutting the door with a sigh. He clocks out on his phone, changes from his uniform into his own clothes, pulling on a beanie and hoodie to block the chill out today. For once, Jungkook doesn’t feel like welcoming the cold air in.

He stays in his room for a bit, catching up on his messages from the last couple of days, and tidying up his personal clutter. After an hour, he remembers the laundry he threw in earlier today and goes back out to hang up the wet clothes.

Then he notices that the back door is cracked open, the smell of coffee flowing in from the kitchen. Jungkook glances outside, then steps out completely, looking up at the roof. Yoongi is sitting on the edge, with his feet dangling off, coffee at his side. Jungkook slinks back into the laundry room.

It must feel awful, not having anyone to celebrate his birthday with. After traveling for work all these years, Jungkook wonders if Yoongi has celebrated his birthday at all. It doesn’t seem right, either, it’s such a milestone. Thirty-five is an achievement. It’s that age they say you should have your life together at.

Jungkook searches through his stash of snacks for something to give Yoongi, settling on a choco pie because it’s the closest thing to cake he has. It takes a while to find at least one candle, poking it into the center, bringing a lighter with him. Yoongi is still on the roof, staring wistfully at the mountains and stars as he sips his coffee.

“Happy birthday, Yoongi-nim,” Jungkook says, interrupting the peaceful ambience. He lights the candle and sets the choco pie beside the mug of coffee. Yoongi looks up, not a muscle in his face moving. “Abeonim told me it’s your birthday. I wasn’t sure if you did something, since you didn’t mention it.”

“Thank you.” Yoongi reaches for the plate, then hesitates, glancing up. Jungkook nods encouragingly, but it’s cute that Yoongi thinks he needs to ask before taking it. “I, uh, let it slip at work today. So a couple of them took me to lunch during our break. They tried to make me stay after for dinner too, but I pulled the sick dad card.”

Jungkook snorts. “If only they knew,” he mumbles, to which Yoongi just laughs.

There’s a moment where the wind is completely still. Yoongi whispers something under his breath, then blows out the candle.

“What did you wish for?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, smiling a little. “Don’t they say to keep it a secret or it won’t come true?”

Jungkook shakes his head, waving off the excuse. “No, that’s not true. Obviously you’re supposed to tell the person you make the wish with.”

“Uh-huh.” Yoongi pulls the plate closer to him, pulling the choco pie into two pieces, then offering one to Jungkook. “I’m sorry about earlier. I just… I know I should be making an effort with him. But it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“It’s understandable.” Jungkook accepts the half he’s given, nibbling on the corner. “I just didn’t appreciate your, uh, I’m not sure how to phrase this. Your hostility, I guess? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I would like it if you didn’t treat me so harshly sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says again, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. Jungkook chooses to believe him; to give him the benefit of the doubt that it was just a one-time thing. “It was uncalled for. You were just trying to help and I took it out on you, when I really shouldn’t have. I’ll try to be better.”

Jungkook ends up shoving the entire half-choco pie into his mouth. Getting through to Yoongi like this is a lot easier than trying to get through to him while he’s moody, or drunk. Or both, apparently. Yoongi seems to be a lot more honest when he’s calm.

“You should try to connect with Abeonim,” Jungkook says, managing a smile when Yoongi shoots him a look of disbelief. “I’m serious. He talked about you a lot today, because his subconscious knew that it was your birthday. I don’t know what happened, and I’m not asking you to tell me… I just mean that you don’t know how long he has left. And you’re here, now, so you may as well.”

“You’re annoyingly smart, you know that?” Yoongi mutters, pushing Jungkook’s elbow with his own. “A bit bossy, too.”

“Yoongi-nim.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Please, you don’t have to be that formal with me,” he says, and Jungkook shrugs. He’s only formal with Yoongi because he hasn’t said to act differently. “You call my dad Abeonim, you may as well not speak so formally with me. A Yoongi-ssi would suffice, too.”

Jungkook nods once, turning back to the distant mountains, like shadows painted on the horizon. A soft breeze blows, tickling his cheek, sending that same cold chill over his body. Even as he sits with someone, a person, in a place where he should not feel so cold, the loneliness returns. It’s like it knows Jungkook is its home.

“We can go back inside if you’re cold,” Yoongi says, pointing to Jungkook’s curled toes. “You’re shaking.”

“Ah—” Jungkook’s teeth chatter for a second, then his mouth forms a smile. “Yeah, that’s a smart idea. I don’t want to get sick.”

Yoongi gets up first, then pulls Jungkook back to his feet. His hand lingers in Jungkook’s for a second too long, before he rips it away to collect the empty plate and mug from the ledge. Jungkook stares down at his hand, wondering if that has anything to do with the way Yoongi sometimes looks at him.

“I’m going to bed,” Yoongi says, once he’s washed the dishes, and Jungkook is tidying the stovetop and counters. They barely cooked today and it still feels too grimy. “Thanks for the dessert. I appreciated it. I’ll, uh, catch you later.”

“Sure.” Jungkook slows his hand holding the cleaning rag, smiling in Yoongi’s direction. “Goodnight, Yoongi-ssi.”

Jungkook isn’t sure if the rose that colors Yoongi’s cheeks is just in his head or not.

++

Quiet evenings with Abeonim can vary. Sometimes Jungkook loves them, and sometimes Jungkook hates them.

It depends on his mood, really. And Abeonim’s mood. Sometimes he’s happier; he spends the day with more energy in his movement and speech. But other days, sometimes he’s more drained. He’ll communicate in hums or grunts. Jungkook can tell so much from so little.

It’s a higher-energy day. With Abeonim smiling at Jungkook, and talking to him. When they went to the park for their walk, he kept saying, “What about that girl, Jungkook-ah?” and Jungkook kept telling him that he really isn’t looking for a girlfriend right now. All Abeonim usually does is scoff until the next pretty girl walks past.

They came back a while ago, and it’s quiet. Yoongi was home when they arrived near sunset, already in the shower. Jungkook took Abeonim’s blood pressure and checked his sugar levels, just in case. Everything looked normal, and he’s now sitting quietly on the floor with a romance drama rerun.

The loneliness has been gone for some days, but it made its way back into Jungkook’s chest this morning. He woke up from a vague, nauseating nightmare, with goosebumps on every possible inch of his body, and the air conditioner mysteriously blowing onto his bare skin.

It got better as the day went on and he interacted with Abeonim, but it comes crawling back with such ease now. Inching close, latching onto his ankle to drag him back into the pits of hell. And, well, Jungkook is too exhausted to stop himself from getting pulled under. Sometimes loneliness wins.

“Jungkook-ah,” Abeonim says, placing his gentle hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. He’s leaning back, into the couch armrest, a subtle smile on his face. The TV is off. “You know the bookcase? Play one of the old records for me.”

“Oh. Sure,” Jungkook murmurs, clambering up from the floor to shuffle over to the bookcase. Abeonim has only asked him to do this one time before.

It was a while ago, on Christmas morning. Jungkook didn’t have the liberty of a day off, so he was cooped up with Abeonim, tending to him as usual. He had finally gotten Abeonim to remember his name and face, which made his job significantly easier.

But around midday, Abeonim asked Jungkook to do just this; to pull a record from the bookcase and play it for him. He sat on the couch, quiet and pensive, and Jungkook merely watched and listened. He never knew what to think of it. It was the first time he had seen Abeonim so… far away. Almost like the music carried him elsewhere.

“What would you like to listen to, Abeonim?” Jungkook asks, browsing the options. Most are titles and artists he doesn’t know, probably something to do with his age. He chooses a random one, and displays it for Abeonim to read. After a handful of seconds, he gets a nod of approval.

The first song is slow. Jungkook sways listening to it, settling back on the floor, letting the woman’s voice settle over his skin. He gets goosebumps, but these are different. Music always brings the best kind of chill, one that comes to safeguard him. So he welcomes it alongside loneliness. Perhaps they can be friends.

The next song is something Jungkook’s grandparents played often, so he murmurs the words, humming along to the melody. Until Abeonim nudges him and raises his eyebrows silently, urging him to sing louder.

Jungkook is no singer but he complies, raising the volume of his voice as he harmonizes with the singer, finding it embarrassing that Abeonim would even want him to. He doesn’t have an unbelievably amazing voice. When he was younger, he sang for fun, in front of his parents usually, but it never went beyond that.

A couple more songs play. Abeonim silently nods along to the music, eyes shut, smiling. He seems lost in the moment, and somehow that makes Jungkook so happy. They spend so much time on the past, simply trying to recall it, and now Abeonim is taking everything in for once.

Jungkook notices Yoongi in the doorway when he gets up to turn the disc over, with his shoulder pressed against the doorframe. His eyes are focused on Abeonim. Jungkook returns to his seat, studying Yoongi.

There isn’t any distinguishable emotion on the rest of his face, but the eyes always tell. They’re sad, glazed over, drooping down as always. Jungkook wonders what it’s like, seeing his own father like this. From what he can tell based on what Yoongi has said, Abeonim is significantly different from the person he used to be.

Still, Jungkook can tell from the twitch of his mouth, the slow furrow of his eyebrows, that Yoongi recognizes something. Jungkook isn’t sure what it could be exactly, but it has to be related to the music. To the low laugh Abeonim lets out. To the smile on Abeonim’s face, the way he heaves himself up to walk slow circles around the room.

The music ends, and Abeonim remains in this blissful state all throughout dinner and nightly check-in. He goes to bed with a squeeze on Jungkook’s hand, telling him to not worry about him so much. Jungkook only smiles and reassures him that it’s okay, without mentioning that it’s his job to worry.

“Doing okay?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, finding him at the piano tucked in the corner of the living room. It usually sits there, untouched and collecting dust. Jungkook would put it to better use if he could play piano.

“Just…” Yoongi sighs, shakes his head. His hands lift the cover, fingers gliding over each key. He touches them with delicacy, as if they’re made of glass, breakable under the slightest pressure. “My parents used to do that.”

Jungkook perches himself on the far end of the piano bench, sitting closer to Yoongi than he thought. “Do what?” he asks, but he has an inkling that Yoongi is talking about Abeonim listening to music earlier today.

Yoongi presses a piano key. The untuned pitch settles harshly over Jungkook’s ears.

“They’d dance together,” Yoongi says, settling both hands over the keys. His posture straightens immediately, shoulders pushed back, wrists aligned with the floor. “I played piano, and they would dance. They were in love, Jungkook-ssi. I truly believe that.”

Ah, Jungkook thinks, as his heart begins to ache. Abeonim was in love.

“Abeoji insisted that I learn to play piano,” Yoongi continues as he plays the beginning chords to something. Jungkook doesn’t know what it is, but it sounds beautiful. He thinks the piano is a beautiful instrument. “He loved it. He loved the piano and Eomma, and that was it. I’m not sure he lived for much else, back then.”

“Abeonim asked me to play him music once before,” Jungkook says, raising his left hand to trace the piano too. It’s old, he could always tell that much. But it’s old in this used way that shows that it was loved, played with attention and care. “It was on Christmas. He was very happy.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says quietly, his hands falling limp on the keys, resting there. Like he wants to play more, but can’t find the energy or courage too. “I never thought I’d see him like that again. He practically banned me from touching this after she died.”

It’s the first time Yoongi has mentioned his mother’s death so directly. Something in Jungkook thinks that maybe Yoongi and Abeonim are both still in the process of healing from it, no matter how many years it’s been. Some grief sticks with you longer than others. Sometimes it’s harder to come to terms with it.

“Do you think he’d want to hear you play again?” Jungkook asks, letting his hand fall back into his lap. Yoongi’s shoulders are hunched now, but he simply shakes his head. “I think you should try. It’s the weekend tomorrow. Perhaps he could use that to remember you.”

“I don’t—”

“You have to try,” Jungkook says softly, turning towards Yoongi more, even as he tries to shield himself. “You can’t give up on something before you’ve tried it.”

Yoongi’s hands clench, pressing down into the piano keys as he shakes his head again. “You don’t understand, Jungkook-ssi,” he whispers, words eerie and cold. Jungkook may not understand directly, but he’s seen how re-nurturing a relationship has brought families together. “He hates me. He hates me.”

And, oh, that sends a wave of sadness over Jungkook’s heart, because he knows it isn’t true.

“I’m a terrible son,” Yoongi continues, his voice still soft, barely loud enough to hear over the whirling ceiling fan. Jungkook wants to refute everything he says. “I left him for fourteen years. What’s wrong with me? Even if he was bad, I shouldn’t have gone.”

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook says, cautioning him with a hand on his shoulder. Yoongi draws in a sharp breath, fixing his hands over the piano keys, his expression slowly going blank. “I may not understand anything you went through, but—you still have time to fix your relationship. Abeonim is still aware enough.”

Yoongi shrugs him off and doesn’t say anything.

Then, he starts to play.

The piece is something Jungkook recognizes vaguely, beautiful and somber. The music flows from Yoongi’s fingertips, his eyes shut, chin tilted upwards. It sounds a little off-key, because the piano is wildly out of tune, but somehow it works. Somehow Jungkook can sense there’s nothing wrong with it.

Yoongi’s body rocks with the music, with each press of the pedals and keys. Jungkook is torn between watching his face, and the way his hands glide over the keys with such practiced ease. Producing the sounds of desperation, of anger—the growth of pain in Jungkook’s heart, blooming as he realizes how awful this must be for Yoongi.

The sheer courage it must have taken to come home after so many years. Yoongi must have not even known whether Abeonim would welcome him or not, let alone remember him. The fact that Abeonim struggles to put a name to Yoongi’s face must hurt beyond words. Jungkook truly feels his heart sink, and beat with sympathy.

He doesn’t particularly feel any pity for Yoongi. Jungkook couldn’t say that, when he still doesn’t know the details on why Yoongi left home on such distasteful terms; why Yoongi thinks Abeonim hates him.

All Jungkook knows is that the only way to ease the tension in the house is by bringing the two together.

Yoongi’s playing comes to an end, a gentle descent as he hits the keys softly, like the warm beach breeze at sundown.

Jungkook sits still, soaking in the vibrating silence in the aftermath, wondering how he could convince Yoongi to play again for Abeonim.

“Goodnight, Jungkook-ssi,” Yoongi says quietly, as he gets up from the piano bench, leaving the fall board overturned. He leaves Jungkook with a warm feeling, the living room shadows slipping away with loneliness in tow.

Jungkook tidies up for the night, crawling into bed with a blanket cocooning him. His body aches with exhaustion, the effects of his long week flowing into his bones. But his mind is still captured by the chaotic, solemn music Yoongi played, the ending notes soon lulling him to sleep.

In the morning, Jungkook goes through his pre-work routine: going for a run, having breakfast, taking a shower. Yoongi is home most of the day, but he does come and go a few times, returning with hardware tools. He seems to be working on something in his bedroom.

Something about yesterday lingers in today’s air. Abeonim’s movement is lethargic, and he’s quiet in that judgmental, worrisome way. Jungkook finds solace in the habitual walks, the TV-watching. Even as he tries to prompt Abeonim to talk, he gives up when there isn’t any response.

Yoongi finally emerges to cook dinner, shuffling around the kitchen with two pots simmering over the burners. Jungkook sits at the table while Abeonim is taking a nap, routinely checking his text messages and missed calls.

Jungkook’s mom called again earlier today. She often bothers him most about his health, and work. He hasn’t gotten the chance to call her back, or even just send her a message. With the nature of his job, though, Jungkook knows he shouldn’t be so insensitive about keeping her updated.

With a quick glance at Yoongi, Jungkook decides to just call her back.

“Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook sighs and mumbles, “Yeah, hey, Eomma.”

Eomma laughs, something moves on the other end of the line. “It’s nice to hear from you,” she says, and the guilt weighs on Jungkook, hearing that. “How’re you? How’s your patient?”

“I’m—yeah, I’m good,” Jungkook says, pulling his legs onto the chair, tucking his knees close to his chest. “My patient is good too. He’s steady. How about you and Abeoji?”

“We’re good, your dad is still at work,” Eomma says, then laughs again. Something wretched settles between Jungkook’s ribs. “All our friends ask about you, you know?”

“Mm… What do you tell them?”

“That you’re well. You work hard.” Eomma sighs. “I’ve started to paint again, too.”

Jungkook fiddles with the hem of his pants. “That’s nice,” he says, unsure of what else he could say. “Sorry it’s been a while. You know—work.”

Eomma stays silent for a moment before her bright, fake enthusiasm comes through his phone speaker. “No, no, of course not, it must be burdensome to call us. Just keep good health, eat your meals.”

“I am,” Jungkook whispers, casting a look at Yoongi removing his apron, turning off the stove. “Um… I think we’re about to have dinner here, so I’ll talk to you later?”

“Hm… Okay. Come visit us soon.”

Jungkook grimaces, forcing a smile, even though she can’t even see him. “I’ll try,” he offers, instead of giving her any false hope. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint them in some way. He makes decent money and sends some back to them, even if his father still works. He knows it makes them proud, regardless of it going unsaid. “Bye, Eomma. Take care.”

She exchanges her goodbye and ends the call, and Jungkook goes on to set the table for dinner.

Dinner is eaten in silence, what with Jungkook’s exhaustion paired with Abeonim’s aversion to speaking today, and Yoongi never speaks anyway, so he already anticipated that. It’s a solid meal, though, Yoongi always cooks well and Jungkook isn’t afraid to stuff his stomach with his food.

They finish eating in a few minutes, and Abeonim migrates to the living room while Jungkook cleans up. Yoongi is loitering in the hallway when Jungkook joins Abeonim in the living room, reaching for the TV remote. Maybe they can watch a short program before going to bed.

But the last thing Jungkook expects is for Yoongi to slide onto the piano bench and begin to play.

This time, the song is happier; a joyful sway, alternating between a faster and mid-tempo. Abeonim reacts with tears, gradually slipping out of his eyes, mouth pressed firmly shut. Jungkook isn’t sure what to do, so he resorts to laying a blanket over Abeonim’s lap, and rubbing his shoulder in meek comfort.

Yoongi has his side towards them, so Jungkook notices that his hands are trembling, fingers slipping. Even so, the music flows through him like magic, pouring out of him with no hesitation. Jungkook is mesmerized by it, he never knew that one instrument could be played so elegantly, flooding with a myriad of emotions.

When the song ends, Yoongi’s posture slips forwards, fingers still brushing over the keys. Abeonim sniffs, and Jungkook offers him a tissue. He can’t tell if the tension between everyone has increased or decreased.

“My—my son,” Abeonim says, but his words come out dazed, confused. Jungkook sighs, meeting Yoongi’s distant eyes. The heartbreak filters into them slowly. “Yoongi-yah?”

Yoongi stops breathing for a few seconds, body completely unmoving, until his chest expands suddenly. “Abeoji?” he asks, eyes shifting from Jungkook, to Abeonim seated beside him. He stares earnestly, hands curling around the edge of the piano bench. “Abeoji, it’s Yoongi.”

Abeonim vacantly blinks at him a few times, then shakes his head, dismissing Yoongi’s words. He doesn’t say anything, not even after Yoongi has got up and left the room.

Jungkook is left to wonder if he made the right choice to encourage Yoongi to play for his father.

++

It starts to become a habit. At least once a week, Yoongi sits at the piano and plays something for Abeonim.

The pieces vary, but they all ignite some kind of emotion and recognition in Abeonin. Each time Yoongi finishes, he’ll ask if it was Yoongi, and Yoongi will say that, yes, it really was him. Sometimes Abeonim will smile and nod, and others he’ll just shake his head and frown. The association is easy, but remembering Yoongi’s face is a struggle.

After a couple of weeks, Yoongi brings in a piano repairman to get it tuned. Jungkook can tell that Yoongi enjoys playing for Abeonim, just by the slight smile tugging his lips, the relaxation that slowly eases Yoongi’s rigid shoulders. Jungkook concludes that it was probably the right decision to encourage Yoongi.

It’s one particular night, where Yoongi comes home over two hours later than usual, that Jungkook immediately picks up on his stress.

He doesn’t comment on it, watching from the kitchen as Yoongi leaves his bag on the floor as usual, hanging his coat in the closet. Instead of going on to take a shower, Yoongi just stands there in the entryway, breathing slowly, hardly blinking. Jungkook clenches his hand around his mug of tea, studying Yoongi’s near-motionless frame.

A minute later, Yoongi finally comes into the kitchen, moving like a slug. He opens the fridge door while taking off his tie, rummaging through the boxed leftovers and take-out with a slight scowl on his face. Jungkook sets down his tea, debating on whether he should approach him or not.

Yoongi slams the door shut, clutching the neck of a beer bottle between his fingertips. He straightens, making eye contact with Jungkook.

His eyes are drooping more than usual, eyebrows slowly forming a crease in his forehead. Jungkook zeroes in on the bottle hanging in the air, condensation dripping off the base. Even though Abeonim has gone to bed, Jungkook doesn’t want to be the one to manage Yoongi if he gets drunk.

Yet, he still doesn’t say anything. Yoongi sets the bottle on the counter, opening it, taking three long sips. Jungkook’s fingers enclose around his mug again, words floating around in his mouth, trying to make it past his lips. How would Yoongi react if Jungkook said something?

“Long day, Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook offers, after another minute has passed. Half the bottle is empty now; Yoongi’s eyes are drifting up, towards the very minimal alcohol stash that Jungkook keeps.

“Sure,” Yoongi murmurs with a wry smile, turning back towards the bottle on the counter. His shoulders fold inwards, fingers tracing the edge of the counter. “Long week. Long life.”

Jungkook winces. It’s one of those days, then.

“Do you… want to talk about anything?” Jungkook asks, taking a small sip of his tea. It’s more lukewarm now, and a bit too strong for his liking. “I know you’re not the talking type, but it could help?”

Yoongi takes a slow breath. “I don’t know,” he says, and finishes the beer in a few more gulps. His tie is still resting loosely around his neck, hands tensed around the now empty bottle. Jungkook can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. “It’s just work stuff. Probably boring to you.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I asked if you wanted to talk about it, not if you think I’d find it boring.”

“I’m fine,” Yoongi says, pushing his body away from the counter, removing his tie completely, fingers tugging aggressively. He faces away from Jungkook and takes a few unsteady steps forward, then runs his hand over his face. “I’m fine. Great, actually.”

Jungkook screws up his nose. That’s the most blatant lie he’s ever heard.

Before he has the chance to respond, Yoongi disappears behind the familiar click of the bathroom door. So much for trying to help.

Jungkook reheats his tea, finishing it off in a few long gulps. The shower turns on in the meantime, and Jungkook walks in circles around the house before deciding to put out dinner for Yoongi. By the looks of it, he hasn’t eaten anything, and that’s bound to contribute to his rotten mood. Jungkook can’t just sit and let him ruin the atmosphere.

He sets the table for one, spreading the leftovers across the surface, fidgeting with the placement of each item. Jungkook isn’t usually a stickler for perfection, but for some reason, he wants to make sure everything is right for Yoongi.

When the shower turns off, Jungkook makes his escape towards his bedroom. The bathroom door opens and shuts, then so does Yoongi’s bedroom door. After a couple of silent minutes, it opens and shuts again. Jungkook holds his breath as he listens to Yoongi’s footsteps head towards the kitchen. He hopes he didn’t overstep by setting the meal out for Yoongi.

Jungkook hasn’t been feeling too cold, or too lonely these last few weeks. The weather is gradually crawling from freezing to mildly pleasant, at least when the sun is shining past the mountainside. There’s no room for the lonely shivers to find home in Jungkook, and he’s grateful, but he also knows better than to expect it to last.

Loneliness is indecisive like that; it comes and goes in waves, overwhelming him whenever it pleases. Jungkook wishes he could permanently keep the feeling at bay, but even the tiniest cracks in his demeanor are victims to its control. Afterall, loneliness is all-consuming, its grip so relentless and unwavering that it never willingly lets go.

The thoughts slip away when Yoongi knocks on the door. Jungkook clears his throat, sitting criss-cross against his headboard, then calls, “Come in.”

Yoongi cracks the door open. “Hey,” he says, his hair still damp from his shower, arms bare and pale in the dim lighting. His eyes roam slowly around the room, analyzing the space, then return to Jungkook. His mouth twitches before he adds, “Thanks. For, uh, for dinner. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook shrugs it off and pushes a smile onto his face, satisfied when Yoongi returns it. “I hope it helped.”

“It did… at least a little bit.”

Jungkook smoothes out the fabric of his pants. “Um, how about…” he trails off, biting his lip. It’s risky to suggest something so unprofessional, to continue breaking down this strange wall between them. But something in Jungkook hates seeing Yoongi so distressed, so he doesn’t want to sit and do nothing. “How do you feel about walks?”

Yoongi tilts his head, obviously puzzled. That’s fair, Jungkook thinks. Not many people go for walks. “Walks?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, just for the strands to fall delicately against his forehead again. He laughs, still a bit unsure. “I don’t feel a particular way. Why?”

“When I’ve had a long day, sometimes I go for walks,” Jungkook says slowly, because he can’t tell what Yoongi is thinking with that distant expression on his face. “If you want to go, I’d be happy to accompany you.”

For a moment, Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Jungkook worries that he did, in fact, overstep as an employee. But then Yoongi shrugs and smiles in this tired, but genuine way. “I think I would like that, actually.”

Jungkook smiles wider, heat climbing up his neck and cheeks. “I’ll join you outside in a couple minutes then,” he says, scooting closer to the edge of his bed.

Yoongi nods and shuts the door behind him. Jungkook takes a deep breath, preparing himself for how potentially awkward this might be.

Jungkook gets up after a second, getting a winter puffy jacket and his shoes from the closet. He puts them both on near the front door, briefly fiddling with his hair in the mirror. Yoongi is already outside when Jungkook steps out, coat buttoned up his chest, face slightly flushed pink from the cold.

“Shall we?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the road.

Yoongi smiles briefly with a short nod, then falls into step beside Jungkook.

As predicted, the first few minutes are… awkward, to say the least. Neither of them bother saying anything, yet they walk close enough for their shoulders to bump. Jungkook keeps his hands stuffed into his pockets, the weak breeze nipping his cheeks with the cold. The loneliness hasn’t settled in, but it will if one of them doesn’t say something soon.

Yoongi finally speaks up when they round the first corner.

“I don’t know why I expected this to be easier,” he confesses, the words said inside the folds of his mouth. If Jungkook weren’t walking so close, then he doubts he would have heard. “Working, I mean. It’s just as difficult, if not more. And I hate to admit, but my Korean got bad over the years. My coworkers are…” He scowls, but doesn’t complete the thought.

“Your Korean is fine,” Jungkook says, clenching his hands in his pockets. He didn’t even notice any faults in Yoongi’s Korean. If anything, it’s Jungkook who’s most unfamiliar with the local dialect. “What’s this about your coworkers, though?”

Yoongi sighs, hands sliding into his pockets. The bangs of his hair bounce with each step, slipping to cover his forehead, shielding his dark eyes. “I just… I have the most experience,” he starts, lifting his head to glance at Jungkook. “So they expect more of me, for some reason. And I’ve only been there for a couple of months since I moved back.”

“That’s shitty,” Jungkook mumbles, then bites his tongue for cursing. It makes Yoongi smile anyway. “Are they not pulling their weight?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi huffs. The rosy blush has spread beneath his skin, coloring him from his ears, down to his neck, back up to the tip of his nose. “I’m trying, I really am. But sometimes I have a conversation with a client, expecting them to know something because my coworker should have told them. And they don’t know. It’s so—so infuriating.”

Jungkook hums, understanding. “I had a coworker kinda like that when I was working in hospice,” he says, swiftly shaking his head at the memory. Patients aside, he’s met a few questionable nurses too. “Nursing is a female dominated industry so I was one of like, three other guys? And most of the other nurses were chill and we got along. But this one girl always made me cover her patients. I don’t know why.”

“It could be different there,” Yoongi points out, meeting Jungkook’s gaze for a split second. For that one split second, Jungkook sees something relaxed and carefree floating around his eyes. The walking and talking must be helping, then. “You’re young. She might have just wanted a break.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I got the money for my work. But still.” Jungkook follows Yoongi around another corner, glancing around the area. At this point, he’s not entirely sure where they are. The neighborhood has turned unfamiliar. “Sometimes I just wanted to rest. And I can understand that you probably do too.”

Yoongi turns to look at Jungkook again, then shrugs, like he doesn’t know whether he wants the same rest that Jungkook craves. “I don’t mind the work, like you said…” he says softly, breath forming clouds as it drifts into the bitter night air. “But I was going nonstop for so long, I thought working somewhere smaller might’ve been easier.”

“I don’t think where you work is the only thing that makes your job particularly easier or harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… everything factors into it, right?” Jungkook checks if Yoongi is following; he is, with head nods and small encouraging smiles. “The environment, your clients, your coworkers. The ease depends on that, and your attitude. My job isn’t easy, but it’s not difficult. Because I like my patient, and the house he lives in. And I like my job too.”

Yoongi sighs. “I do like my job. I mean, I’ve done so much with it.” He pauses, the silence deafening and almost painful. “Designing, I mean—mansions, museums, skyscrapers. So many big city landmarks. And now I’m working on a project for—a fucking apartment complex, with a low budget and cheap materials. It’s so different.”

Jungkook frowns. It just sounds like Yoongi’s work environment is substandard, not that he’s lacking in skill.

“Have you tried freelancing? Isn’t that something architects do?” Jungkook asks, hesitant. He knows Yoongi is only looking for a place to vent, not for career advice. Besides, Jungkook is the last person who would know what architects do. “Because to me, it seems like maybe the place you found a job at isn’t very, uh, considerate?”

“I thought about it. When I found out about Abeoji, I wanted to.” Yoongi sighs, rolling out his neck. He slowly comes to a halt, glancing up at the convenience store. Jungkook follows his eyes to the alcohol they can see in the window. “But freelancing requires a lot more work. Through a firm, it’s a lot more structured. You can’t get taken advantage of as easily.”

“I’m sorry you’re feeling like this,” Jungkook says, trailing after him into the shop.

Yoongi goes around to the refrigerated section, hands brushing over the handle. Jungkook watches carefully, still a few feet away, apprehensive about whether to stop him or not. He wanted to get Yoongi away from the alcohol, not bring him back to it.

When Yoongi grasps the door to open it, Jungkook gets between Yoongi’s body and the door.

“Don’t,” Jungkook mumbles, covering Yoongi’s hand with his own, pushing against his blunt, chewed-down nails. His fingers remain firmly pressed around the door handle, frown falling over his expression. “You said you wanted to be better. That night, on your birthday.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw. “I know,” he replies, loosening his grip. Jungkook manages to get his hand off the door completely, letting it fall back to his side. “I’m sorry. I know I have a problem.”

“It’s not unfixable.” Jungkook glances at the neighboring non-alcoholic drinks, walking over to browse those instead. He chooses his personal favorite, banana milk, and passes one carton to Yoongi. “There.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows arch. “Banana milk?” he asks, inspecting the carton, then peering up at Jungkook with skepticism. “What am I, five instead of thirty-five?”

“Your age has nothing to do with your ability to drink milk,” Jungkook says, holding the door open with his knee as he gathers more in his arms. He was running out, anyway. “I,” he steps away from the fridge door, balancing everything as he moves towards the counter, “am twenty-eight and drink one daily.”

“You puzzle me, Jungkook-ssi,” Yoongi mutters, as he follows Jungkook.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jungkook responds, laying the cartons on the counter.

He pays for the ten extra cartons of banana milk he took out, gathering them into a bag to carry back to the house. Yoongi is resolutely sipping on his milk as he walks alongside Jungkook, pink lips resting around his straw. Jungkook fishes a carton out of the grocery bag, poking the straw through.

They walk aimlessly with a blanket of comfortable silence covering them, drinking their banana milk, weaving through the neighborhood until Yoongi leads them back to Abeonim’s house.

The air inside is just as cold as outside when they step in, Jungkook still shivering as he slips off his jacket, padding deeper into the house to put the milk in the fridge. Yoongi grumbles, “It’s always fucking freezing,” as he ups the thermostat, and vanishes into his bedroom with a quiet, “goodnight.”

Jungkook smiles to himself, staring at the numbers on the thermostat. Maybe he’ll have the courage to do it someday, too.

++

Weekends are weird to Jungkook.

He was already a homebody, but it amplified tenfold after starting to work with Abeonim, because the thought of socializing after five consecutive days of in-house care just sounded exhausting. Instead, Jungkook spends his weekends sleeping and eating and going on night walks, trying to recharge. It’s more of a time to catch a break than anything else.

There are rare times where Jungkoon goes out. He’ll make a trip to the gym, the grocery store, sometimes the park or a café if he’s feeling particularly adventurous. But even then, it’s a one-stop, never more than an hour or so. Jungkook simply values rest over being social.

That being said, Jungkook is beyond irritated when he realizes his favorite track pants are ripped, and he’s forced to take the train into the city to buy a new pair.

Trains are fine, Jungkook can handle those. It’s the crowds that unsettle him, everyone packed into a confined space, shoulder to shoulder, no room left to breathe. The noise of chatter in the malls, all those screaming children and shouting mothers. Everything about that environment is overstimulating; avoiding it is his best bet at staying sane.

Jungkook makes it to the mall unscathed, music on full blast to avoid said screaming children, and finds the store he originally bought his pants at. He spends a few minutes browsing through other pants before finding the ones he originally bought. They’re the most basic style and design, so he’s lucky it’s still around.

Just as Jungkook reaches the checkout counter, his phone rings. The number isn’t one he recognizes, so he simply declines it and takes out his wallet instead, paying for the total.

Then his phone rings again. Jungkook declines it a second time. Sometimes those telemarketers are so persistent.

But then it rings for a third time, and Jungkook gathers that he needs to answer this phone call.

“Hello?” he asks, standing in the corner between two shops to avoid any oncomers.

“This is Jeon Jungkook-ssi, right?”

Jungkook pauses. “Yes…” he says slowly, trying to place the odd familiarity of the panicked voice. “Who is this? I’m sorry, I don’t have this number saved.”

“Ah—Yoongi. It’s Min Yoongi.”

“Oh.” Jungkook clears his throat, straightening his back. He never thought Yoongi would actually use his number. “Sorry Yoongi-ssi. What can I do for you?”

“Um. I’m sorry—to bother you, on a weekend.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, letting it out over the microphone. Jungkook shifts his weight, wondering what this could be about. “But. Abeoji, uh, he fell. I drove him. To the emergency room.”

Wait, what?

“Is he okay?” Jungkook asks, hiking the shopping bag over his shoulder, already frantically searching for the nearest exit. His eyes fall on the glass doors, beginning to make his way towards them, wading through the crowd. “Hold on. Send me your location.”

“You don’t need to—”

Jungkook cuts him off, repeating, “Send me your location, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond for a second, then says, “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

The moment Jungkook hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket, he takes off running. Panic envelopes his body—his senses—as he pushes through the crowded mall, mumbling apologies. His feet carry him all the way to the train station, and it’s only then that he takes out his phone to determine what line he needs to take.

This time, Jungkook’s anxiety is too ramped up to focus on the noise in the train. He lingers near the door, watching his phone service cut in and out, wishing Yoongi would message him with any information.

A million and one unanswered questions race through Jungkook’s mind.

How did it happen? What was Abeonim doing? Why didn’t the on-duty nurse take care of him? How did Yoongi end up being the one to take Abeonim to the hospital?

Jungkook reaches the right stop, moving in less of a rush when Yoongi messages him, saying Abeonim got stitches on his head where he got a cut, and that he’s stable. The emergency room is a ten minute walk from the station, but Jungkook makes it in about six because he’s speed-walking.

The emergency room is crowded for a Saturday afternoon, but Jungkook asks the receptionist to point him in the right direction.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook calls, when his eyes land on Yoongi, sitting hunched over in a chair outside Abeonim’s room. He doesn’t lift his head until Jungkook kneels in front of him, but even then, his eyes are bloodshot and teary, full of pain.

Something twists inside Jungkook’s chest.

“You’re here,” Yoongi mumbles, seeming to realize where they are, wiping his cheeks, sitting up. Jungkook takes the seat beside him, worried beyond words. He’s never seen Yoongi like this; so distraught to the point of tears, hints of fear glittering in his eyes.

“I’m here,” Jungkook repeats, setting down his shopping bag to take Yoongi’s hand, clasping his cold fingers between his warm ones. He meets Yoongi’s eyes, putting on a smile regardless of how worried he is. Because Yoongi is Abeonim’s son, and there’s nothing more distressing than a sick parent being in the hospital.

Yoongi breaks down further, lips wobbling, the tears dripping from the corners of his eyes to his chin. They flood down his face, quick like a waterfall, soaking into Jungkook’s shirt as he pulls Yoongi close.

Right now, Jungkook forgets all about his chilly loneliness, and hugs Yoongi with comfort pouring into it.

It takes some quiet coaxing and reassurance to ease Yoongi’s tears, but he still clings to Jungkook’s hand like his life depends on it once he’s calmer. Jungkook doesn’t mind it, but he tries not to take this vulnerable moment for Yoongi out of context. It wouldn’t be fair.

“Talk to me,” Jungkook whispers, soothing his thumb over Yoongi’s knuckles. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was just—” Yoongi draws in a sharp breath. “I was just working, in my room. I’ve been redoing it slowly because I’m too old to sleep in a twin bed with my twenty-one-year-old self’s room decor. But… yeah, and then I heard something.”

Jungkook nods slowly, leaving a squeeze on Yoongi’s hand to urge him to continue.

“Abeoji fell in the bathroom. He didn’t take his cane with him, for some reason, so he lost his balance moving from the toilet to the sink. Hit his head on the floor.”

“Shit…” Jungkook shakes his head to find his emotional bearings again. “Where the hell was the other nurse? She should have been helping him.”

Yoongi shrugs, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. “I think she took her break and didn’t tell me,” he says, readjusting his hand in Jungkook’s grip. Jungkook is still trying to process the situation. “Either way, he was still conscious and stuff, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just drove him here.”

“Good. It was a good move,” Jungkook assures, reaching up with his free hand to push Yoongi’s hair out of his face. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, his hand snaps back to his side, holding onto the hem of his shirt. What is he thinking, touching Yoongi so affectionately?

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He just sits there with a frown on his face, holding Jungkook’s hand, sniffling every few seconds.

“I feel awful,” Yoongi confesses, leaning in, perching his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook’s body is stiff with how much Yoongi is touching him, so casual and easy. It’s so overwhelming that he has to remind himself to breathe steady. “I should have been here all these years. But instead I ran away from him, thinking it’d be better for us.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Jungkook says gently, letting his hand rest on Yoongi’s shoulder blade. In spite of all his internal conflict about coming across as romantic, he doesn’t stop himself from stroking Yoongi’s back. The least he could do, for now, is be a safe place for Yoongi. “You know that, right? It is not your fault that you left to protect yourself.”

Yoongi presses his face deeper, nose brushing Jungkook’s collarbone. He lets out this soft noise, almost like a whimper, letting go of Jungkook’s hand only to latch onto his clothes instead. Jungkook cradles him closer; the last thing he wants is to let Yoongi suffer through this alone.

“We used to be so close. The three of us were, and then—Eomma got sick, and she died when I was fifteen. And I knew—I knew the risks of leaving him, but I did it anyway. How is that not my fault?” Yoongi asks, then looks Jungkook right in the eyes, all teary and pained. “How is that not my fault?”

“Because you didn’t know better.” Jungkook draws back, just long enough to take Yoongi’s face between his hands. It’s affectionate, too intimate for Jungkook to do this, but he moves on autopilot. “You didn’t know better, Yoongi-ssi. I understand this much—that you and Abeonim drifted after your mom died, and that was grief taking its toll. You can’t blame yourself.”

From the beginning, Jungkook has seen Yoongi struggle with learning about his father’s affliction so late, and he doesn’t know how else to get across that it can’t be his fault. Of course, there are things that Yoongi could have done to support Abeonim, but if you’re treated poorly, then that’s all you can remember of a person.

That’s how Yoongi remembers Abeonim; as a father who was not kind to him, cruel and unloving, criticizing his every move. But in reality, what Jungkook sees is the truth. That Abeonim is soft, attentive to detail and careful with his actions, not so much a man of words.

It seems that Yoongi is discovering that what he remembers is not who Abeonim is.

“Do you see that?” Jungkook asks, dragging his thumb along Yoongi’s cheek, letting their eyes meet. “You are here now, remember? You brought Abeonim all the way to the ER, because you care about him.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, a shuddering exhale, brushing his nose against Jungkook’s. They’re close, too close, Jungkook is afraid he may do something foolish like kiss Yoongi. His pink lips are just a breath away from his own. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry on you.”

Jungkook smiles and laughs, welcoming the tickle when Yoongi’s laugh touches his skin. “It’s okay,” he replies, reminded that he is holding Yoongi’s face when he nuzzles it deeper into his palm. “You, uh, you’re welcome to cry on me anytime.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Yoongi says, with another breathy laugh. “Maybe… I’ll take you up on that, sometime.”

“Well, I’ll be here.”

Jungkook’s eyes avert back down to Yoongi’s mouth, the urge growing painfully inside his stomach. He shouldn’t kiss Yoongi, but something inside is telling him otherwise. It’s saying that this is his chance, that he should just take it, just kiss Yoongi and see what happens. The rational part of him is saying to wait, that it isn’t the time, but…

But his instincts make him whisper, “I really want to kiss you.”

Yoongi gives him a bewildered look, at first, but then his gaze travels down to Jungkook’s mouth too, and something changes. His eyes darken, in that way Jungkook noticed before. Heat sparks between them, and Jungkook leans forward to meet Yoongi’s lips.

The kiss is just that: a kiss. Soft and brief. If it was anyone else, Jungkook would call it chaste.

By the way Yoongi looks up at him, with his head tilted to the right, blinking slowly like he’s still trying to understand the moment they just shared, Jungkook knows it’s anything but chaste. That it was comfort, and that maybe it was something Yoongi needed to settle the worries in his heart.

“Do you feel any better?” Jungkook asks, moving his hands lower to Yoongi’s shoulders, using his index and middle fingers to find Yoongi’s pulse. He counts the number under his breath to make sure it isn’t so high any more. “You seem better.”

“I do,” Yoongi says, and kisses Jungkook’s cheek. He brings his mouth close to Jungkook’s ear and adds, “Thank you. It helped.”

Jungkook smiles a little. “I’m glad,” he says, slowly taking his hands back. Yoongi lets go of his shirt, wiping his face a final time. “I’m going to find a nurse that works here and see if I can check in on Abeonim, okay? You should maybe step outside to breathe. Get a cup of coffee or something to rejuvenate yourself.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi looks uneasy, glancing down the hallway, then back at Jungkook. “I don’t want to just leave…”

“I’ll be here. You go, come back, and I’ll update you on Abeonim’s condition. I haven’t seen him yet, so I want to make sure everything is okay.”

Yoongi sighs, nodding his head slowly. “Okay. Do you, um, want anything?” he asks, gesturing towards the hallway again.

Jungkook frowns. “What?”

“Like, if I get coffee?” Yoongi puts his hands in the pockets of his coat, ducking his head while pink spreads over his cheeks. “Do you want anything?”

“Oh.” Jungkook scratches behind his ear, suddenly flustered like they didn’t just kiss two minutes ago. “I like tea. Any kind of herbal tea.”

Yoongi nods, and leaves after squeezing Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook doesn’t allow himself the chance to process the moment he just shared with Yoongi, rushing to check on Abeonim instead. He talks to another nurse, then the doctor who treated him. After some persuasion, Jungkook is let into the room Abeonim is staying in, with a young woman asleep on the other side.

“Abeonim,” Jungkook whispers, taking a seat in the bedside chair. Abeonim flutters his eyes open, grunting as he turns his head towards Jungkook, exposing the bandage over the right side of his face, starting from his temple and ending at his chin. “Yoongi called me here. How are you?”

Abeonim blinks a few times. “Yoongi-yah?” he asks, the confusion evident in his face as he scans Jungkook’s body.

“No, no.” Jungkook smiles, folding his hands in his lap. He’s still trying to determine whether the damage to his head has made his dementia worse or not. “It’s Jungkook, yeah? I’m your nurse. I live at home with you.”

“Jungkook…” Abeonim nods, although there’s no clarity in his expression. “Yoongi is here?”

“He’ll be back soon,” Jungkook promises, placing his hand over Abeonim’s wrist, soothing it with his thumb. “Get some more rest, okay? Yoongi-ssi will be here when you wake up again.” He squeezes Abeonim’s frail fingers and smiles again, trying to be encouraging.

Abeonim pulls the blanket up higher, then closes his eyes. Jungkook watches his breathing slow down and turn even, the faint beeping of his heart monitor gradually decreasing to a steady rate. He can’t help but fixate on the bandage, guilt weighing heavy. Why did Abeonim have to get injured the only time he doesn’t work?

Jungkook lingers there in the hospital room, drifting in and out of consciousness, wrapped in his worry about Abeonim until Yoongi nudges him awake. He has two cups in each hand, one with a hot drink and the other with iced coffee.

“Thanks,” Jungkook murmurs, taking a slow sip of the hot tea—it’s chamomile. “Feeling better?”

Yoongi nods, pulling up a chair beside Jungkook, plopping down with a sigh. The area around his eyes is red and swollen from crying earlier, but a soft, reassuring smile is gracing his lips, so Jungkook doesn’t worry too much.

“I’m okay,” Yoongi answers, taking a sip of his coffee, running a hand through his hair with his free hand. Jungkook watches the movement, smiling when their eyes meet. “How’s my dad?”

“Not entirely sure, but… I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look great,” Jungkook says softly, returning his gaze to Abeonim lying in bed, still aside from the slow rise and fall of his chest. The grays of his hair hide the timeworn creases on his forehead, shadows covering his face. “I talked to the doctor that’s treating him, and he said that the fall might have only accelerated his Alzheimer’s.”

Yoongi lets out a heavy breath. “Okay,” he says, as if trying to reassure himself more than anything. Jungkook reaches out slowly, placing his palm carefully on Yoongi’s knee. “Did they say anything about how long they want to keep him?”

“At least another day.” Jungkook takes a sip of his tea. “If you want, I can work overtime to help with him more. And I’ll have a word with the weekend nurse about her job.”

“Sure.” Yoongi slides his hand over Jungkook’s, squeezing his fingers. He looks up, eyes soft, gratitude running deep in them. “That works.”

With another squeeze, Jungkook silently hopes things truly will work.

++

Loneliness takes its hold on Jungkook again, sinking into his skin as he does overtime to care for Abeonim post-fall. It comes in the form of cold toes and sleepless nights. His weekends and freetime are eaten up by watching Abeonim’s every move, and occasionally having to force pills down his throat.

It isn’t Jungkook’s favorite, but he’s getting by. Slowly but surely. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he doubts that he would be able to balance everything.

Yoongi takes some time off of work to tend to his father more directly, and Jungkook can see that in some ways, it’s straining him. He doesn’t want to overstep and tell Yoongi to just let him do his job, but it’s almost too overbearing. Yoongi hovers while Jungkook tries to work, asks questions with worry bleeding into his voice, frets over every single detail of what Jungkook does.

It’s how Jungkook expected him to act when he first moved in a few months ago, but maybe the reality of Abeonim’s disease hadn’t sunk in quite yet. Maybe the fall really shook him into understanding that he might not have a lot of time left with his father.

Jungkook feels bad for Yoongi; pities him a little bit. He already lost one parent twenty years ago, and being only thirty-five with the second one not doing too well must be heartbreaking. It must put so much pressure on him to give more effort into their relationship, to care more.

But the thing is—Abeonim doesn’t react well to Yoongi. Little by little, he returns to his old self, complying with going on his daily walks, more receptive to Jungkook asking him questions at the end of the day. When Yoongi tries, though, Abeonim refuses to listen. It’s like he has an automatic response to resist anything Yoongi asks of him.

So, it’s not surprising that Jungkook stumbles out of his bedroom in the middle of night, shaken awake by the cold and a need for hot tea, and finds Yoongi curled up on the couch half-drunk with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook calls, rubbing his eyes, trying to comprehend the sight before him. Yoongi lifts his head; eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, face glistening with tears, lips resting on the mouth of the bottle. “What… are you doing?”

“Not like you’d care,” Yoongi mutters, just loud enough to hear. His body coils tighter, knees to his chest, swallowing the next swig of alcohol he takes.

Jungkook steps forward. What makes Yoongi think he wouldn’t care? After everything, how could Yoongi not understand that Jungkook does care? At least more than an average in-house nurse would.

“I do care,” Jungkook says softly, inching closer and closer until he can sit on the opposite end of the couch. Despite what he said, Yoongi subtly shifts his body to face Jungkook, which is a win he’ll take. “You know… you can always talk to me. I’m here for you, too.”

“Too,” Yoongi echoes, laughs, then takes a sip. He gives Jungkook a glare, dark and unforgiving eyes. Jungkook shrinks under that look; what did he do to deserve that? “Aren’t I just the pathetic son? Why should you care about what’s wrong with me?”

Jungkook frowns a little. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t have the courage to admit that out loud. That, and he isn’t so willing to be vulnerable to Yoongi when he’s drunk and mindless, and only spewing hurtful words. As far as he can tell, that’s the direction this conversation is heading.

Still, Jungkook says, “I care because you’re a person,” to try and get his point across in another, subtler way. “You should give yourself more credit, Yoongi-ssi. Because you’re not pathetic and there isn’t anything wrong with you.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits back, words full of judgment and disgust, landing on Jungkook’s fragile heart. He doesn’t know what he did to make Yoongi treat him this way, especially after they’ve begun to bond, but he hates it. He doesn’t deserve this regardless of what he may have done. “There’s you and there’s me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re perfect.” Yoongi laughs, a broken little sound, setting the bottle on the table with a thud. Jungkook stares at the slight snarl on his lips, that harsh look in his eyes once more. “You’re perfect, right? You can do fucking everything. Wouldn’t it have been so much better if you were his son instead of me?”

Jungkook swallows. Is that what this is about?

“Like, you know, just today,” Yoongi continues, one hand pushing through his hair. He seems fired up, like he’s not about to stop running his mouth any time soon. Jungkook doesn’t even know what to do or say. “I tried to help Abeoji into his chair. He pushed me away when I tried, but when you did it. When you tried, there was no issue.”

“That’s not—”

Yoongi keeps going, despite Jungkook’s meek attempt to reason with him. “What’s the point of me being here if I can’t fix what I broke?” he asks, starting to lift the bottle of his lips, but Jungkook reaches out, closing his palm over his wrist. “I’m trying. I’m trying more than I ever have, so tell me, Jeon Jungkook, why you shouldn’t be Abeoji’s son instead.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, stammering for an answer. He knows realistically that it would never work. Him being Abeonim’s son is a stupid notion to him; he’s too much unlike Abeonim, from his personality, to looks, simply down to the way his own parents raised him. After spending so much time with both of them, Yoongi is evidently Abeonim’s son.

“Please don’t be upset,” Jungkook says slowly, cautioning Yoongi.

“You’re not answering the question.”

“Because you’re drunk and angry and—”

The frown on Yoongi’s face deepens. “I’m not,” he says, but his face says otherwise. What else is Jungkook supposed to think if he’s being treated with hostility, and Yoongi has a bottle in his hand? “I’m just trying to understand why I’m not fucking good enough. Why I’m not a good son.”

Jungkook’s blood burns when he hears that. How could Yoongi just say that and mean it?

“You are a good son,” he snaps, temper getting the better of him. The last thing anyone needs right now is more rage, but he can’t help it at this rate. Yoongi just keeps spewing nonsense and Jungkook is sick of it. “You know how many families I’ve worked with that have abandoned their elderly? Just left their sick family members to fend for themselves?”

“But—”

“No, Yoongi-ssi, you do not understand. You don’t actually see how many people don’t come back the way you have. Don’t care, don’t put in any effort whatsoever.” Jungkook shuffles closer, clutching Yoongi’s hands, even when they tense and turn clammy in his grip. “I can only say two or three families I know have been close. You—you came back. You sacrificed your career just to come home and be with your father. How does that not make you a good son?”

Yoongi is stunned; absolutely rendered speechless. There is a moment where Jungkook wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything at all. If he should have let Yoongi continue speaking out of his ass, drink and cry himself to sleep. But all the words have been said anyway, so Jungkook doesn’t bother taking any of them back.

“That being said,” Jungkook continues, softer now, lifting his hand to Yoongi’s cheek. He can tell by the slight flinch that affection isn’t something Yoongi is comfortable with. But with the way Yoongi settles into the touch, he seems ready to improve on that. “I could never be Abeonim’s son. Because you are his son, and nothing can change that.”

Yoongi exhales slowly, but doesn’t utter another word.

“You should sleep,” Jungkook murmurs, leaning closer, forehead landing against Yoongi’s. He can feel Yoongi’s body heaving, the breaths coming out short. All the sorrow bleeding out of him like an open wound. “This is not good for you.”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi croaks, shifting his head away. His eyes press into Jungkook’s shoulder, tears dripping onto his shirt. Jungkook’s heart breaks at the sound of his helplessness. Why can’t he do more to fix this? “I should be nobody to you. Just—your patient’s son.”

Jungkook sighs. He’s still not ready, quite yet, to admit it out loud. That Yoongi has become the only place that can rival the chill of loneliness. That Yoongi is warmth and comfort and everything that Jungkook craved before he moved in. How could he possibly say that, despite the fact that they shared that one, brief kiss?

“Sleep,” Jungkook repeats, guiding him to stand, pulling him towards the hallway. Yoongi sways, but he isn’t drunk to the point that he’s too unsteady, so he trudges along to Jungkook’s lead. “You’ll feel better.”

Yoongi nods, like he knows this, like he knows that he shouldn’t have been drinking his frustrations away in the first place. He stumbles on his final step to his bed, nearly falling onto his side before Jungkook catches his arms and lets him down gently. He doesn’t need any drunk accidents. Or any more accidents, for that matter.

Jungkook helps Yoongi into bed, tucking him in like a small child, but he puts on this silly, drunk smile that is almost irresistible. Jungkook could forget about everything that just happened and kiss him, just like that. He honestly would if the situation weren’t so serious. If Yoongi weren’t so drunk.

“You okay now?” Jungkook asks, smoothing out the slight crease between his brows, leaving a forehead kiss. “Yoongi-ssi?”

“Mm?”

Jungkook watches Yoongi’s eyes flutter with a small smile on his face. “Are you ready to sleep?” he asks, meeting Yoongi’s gaze when he finally looks up, starry-eyed. “You need some rest.”

“Please,” Yoongi murmurs, tugging the hem of Jungkook’s shorts, “stay with me. So lonely.” He sounds desperate. It’s so familiar that Jungkook would rather not deny Yoongi, and himself, the solace and company of another person.

Jungkook slowly lies down in the empty space beside Yoongi, making sure they aren’t touching in any way. He doesn’t want Yoongi to wake up and wonder why they’re in bed together. Even if they’ve talked more than a few times about life and work, that doesn’t mean they’re anywhere near this level of affection. But Jungkook is exhausted at this rate, so he knocks out as soon as his head touches the pillow.

The sunshine wakes him up. Rays of warmth shining over his bare arms and skin, eyes fluttering open. The memories of last night lingers as he gets up, the bed messy and empty, so he tidies up the room a little. He should see if Yoongi has gone to work today or has decided to stay home again.

His questions are answered, following the noise into the kitchen. Yoongi is there, leaning against the counter with coffee in one hand, and his head cradled in the other, while Abeonim mouths him off for drinking coffee in the first place. It’s probably something Yoongi has heard a million times before, but Jungkook smiles at the worry and care in Abeonim’s words.

Jungkook could never be Abeonim’s son. That role is preserved for Yoongi, and Yoongi only.

“Good morning, Abeonim,” Jungkook says, touching Abeonim’s shoulder to get his attention. “Are you having a nice morning with Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi’s sleepy eyes find him too, and he must remember last night, because he smiles with sadness in his eyes. Jungkook smiles back, reassuring. They can work through this.

“Yoongi-yah, tell him what you did,” Abeonim grumbles and gestures to Jungkook, although it seems like today he recognizes Yoongi more than Jungkook.

Yoongi sighs, massaging his temples. “I made coffee,” he says, lifting his mug in Jungkook’s direction to emphasize his statement. Jungkook’s smile grows wider, pushing the plate with Abeonim’s breakfast closer to him. “Of course, Abeoji is telling me I need to fix my habit.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook agrees half-heartedly, sharing a knowing look with Yoongi. They both seem to understand that there are other habits he needs to work on.

Abeonim continues to ramble incoherently about Yoongi and coffee, eating each bite of food whenever Jungkook places the spoon in his hand. They chat until Abeonim finishes his breakfast and takes his medication, and he settles on the living room couch to watch some TV. Yoongi joins them, sitting on Abeonim’s right side, so Jungkook takes the floor.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable. Jungkook isn’t too cold, either. He’s still dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and luckily no loneliness has wormed its way beneath his bare skin. He’s grateful, honestly, because he’s fed up with feeling lonely. No one would ever crave such a feeling, and Jungkook would never wish it upon even his least favorite people.

Around noon, Jungkook takes Abeonim for a walk, just the two of them, then puts him to sleep once they get home. The kitchen and living room are a disaster, so he takes his time cleaning up, washing dishes and sweeping the floor. The busy work helps keep his hands occupied while his mind runs away.

Jungkook is just wondering where Yoongi has disappeared to when he hears, “Jungkook-ssi?”

When Jungkook turns, Yoongi is standing there in the doorway, shyly rubbing the back of his head. There’s something about him that makes Jungkook’s heart feel sore, just at the sight of him. He doesn’t quite understand that feeling, but he welcomes it.

“Can we talk?” Yoongi asks, gesturing outside. Jungkook peers out the backdoor window, unsure of what he’s referring to. He wants to go outside and talk? “I just, um, I’ve been thinking a lot. And I want to talk to you about what I’ve been feeling.”

“Sure,” Jungkook says with a quick smile, drying his hands on a towel. “You want to go outside, or…”

“Yeah, on the roof. Just… want to breathe,” Yoongi explains, stepping towards the backdoor. Jungkook trails after him, wondering what all Yoongi will say. Last night seemed tough for him, as have the past couple of weeks, so he doesn’t have any idea what’s been on Yoongi’s mind.

The weather is pleasant today, sunlight passing in and out between the parted clouds, showering Jungkook’s skin with heat. They settle on the edge of the roof, shoulders close but not touching, an occasional breeze ruffling the strands of Yoongi’s hair which cover his eyes. The breath Jungkook lets out loosens his shoulders, calms his mind.

“I… want to start with an apology,” Yoongi says, hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. Jungkook’s fingers twitch as he watches, tempted to reach out. “Getting drunk was stupid. I said I would be better, but… I messed up. After my mom died, I wasn’t the best kid—”

“Yoongi—”

“Let me get this out, please,” Yoongi says, hand falling on Jungkook’s knee. He squeezes, and Jungkook places his hand on top to prevent him from pulling away. “I wasn’t the best kid to Abeoji. He wasn’t wrong when he talked about me on my birthday back in March. Eomma always kept me in check, so when she died… I lost control.

“Abeoji tried a lot, to be a good father to me when it became just us two. I was the one who made it difficult for him.” Yoongi shakes his head, cracks an amused smile. Jungkook mirrors it, slipping their fingers together. “Can you imagine? A recently widowed man like him, struggling to keep his one child from causing trouble. I was a menace.”

Jungkook stifles a laugh. For some reason, he loves the image of Yoongi being a little troublemaker.

“You can laugh,” Yoongi says, nudging his elbow into Jungkook’s ribs. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You’d look at me now and wonder how I was such a problem child.”

“I can imagine it.” Jungkook shrugs, offering a teasing smile. “It’s still funny.”

“Anyway,” Yoongi mutters, elbowing Jungkook again. None of it is with malice. “Our relationship became… strained. I left, went to the military, all of that. We kept in touch when I was away, but a couple months after I came back—we had a huge argument.” He pauses, glancing up at Jungkook. “Predictable, right?”

Jungkook nods slowly. Very predictable, if his existing knowledge of their relationship is anything to go by.

“So I left.” Yoongi shrugs, moving his hand away to rest behind him, perching his weight on his palms. He tilts his head up, and the sun washes over his face, painting him a soft gold. “That’s probably why he has trouble putting a face to my name. Because I left on awful terms, and I never reached out to him. And after a while, I didn’t know how.”

“Can I ask you something, then?”

“Sure.” Yoongi glances at Jungkook, still glowing. He’s so beautiful, Jungkook realizes. “What do you want to know?”

Jungkook picks at the skin on his knee. “How… how did you find out that Abeonim was unwell?” he asks. He’s always wondered how Yoongi learned about Abeonim’s illness if they weren’t communicating for so long. “You said your aunt told you, or something like that. But is that true? Because I haven’t known any family.”

“No, it’s true.” Yoongi nods a little, letting out a sigh. His eyes fall shut, lashes fanning out against his cheeks. “My mom’s sister is pretty much the only family member I’m still in contact with. She and Abeoji had a falling out when my mom died, but I guess she found out about his diagnosis when it happened.”

“In December?”

“Yeah… it took that long for me to decide to leave my job and come home.”

Jungkook fears the answer, but he still asks, “Do you regret that?”

“No,” Yoongi says, opening his eyes. “I don’t regret it.”

“Do you…” Jungkook pauses, takes a deep breath. This question has been haunting him for weeks. “Do you regret kissing me?”

There’s a lull in conversation, where the wind blows, and Jungkook feels loneliness tickle the back of his neck.

“Never.”

Jungkook sighs, swinging his legs. “So?” he asks, unsure of what this could possibly mean for them.

“So…” Yoongi shuffles closer. “Do you want to kiss again?”

“Subtle.” Jungkook laughs, turning his head towards Yoongi. The warmth from Yoongi’s smile settles somewhere in Jungkook’s ribcage for safe keeping. “But I’d love to.”

Yoongi gestures for him to move closer, mumbling, “C’mere,” as his hand lands on the bottom of Jungkook’s chin, bringing their lips together.

Just like the first time, it’s soft, but not as brief. Jungkook just rests there, with his mouth pressed against Yoongi’s, palm finding Yoongi’s waist. He has half a mind to be cautious of their movement, sitting so close to the edge of the roof, but Yoongi steadies them with both his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders.

Yoongi pulls away for a second, looks over Jungkook’s face, then pulls him in for another kiss. It’s silly to Jungkook, how utterly gone he is for Yoongi already. That once they moved past the initial discomfort with each other, getting to know one another wasn’t as difficult as it seemed. As much as Jungkook wishes Yoongi didn’t do certain things, they have a mutual understanding that they can be worked on.

Jungkook tucks his face into Yoongi’s shoulder when he pulls away, arms firmly around his waist. He just sits there, staying close with Yoongi’s hand brushing through his hair, allowing himself a moment to cherish this. He hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone in so long, but he thinks he might just be ready for one with Yoongi.

++

“Eomma?”

Jungkook rubs his sleepy-heavy eyes. He just rolled out of bed after hearing a knock on his front door, and the last person he expected it to be was his mom. They haven’t spoken in a while, and he isn’t so fond of the idea of her just showing up to his apartment unannounced. Yet, here she is.

“Abeoji is on a trip for work and I was just missing you so much, so I wanted to visit,” Eomma says, inviting herself into his home, removing her shoes. She scans his space and beelines for his bed, tugging the bed sheet corners into place.

Jungkook shuts the door, leaning against the ledge beside his front door. “Eomma,” he mumbles, still watches her fuss over his unmade bed. “You can’t just show up. You should have asked me first.”

“Why should I need to?”

“Because I’m very tired after working overtime yesterday.” Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose, just at the thought of dealing with his mother while feeling this exhausted. He worked the entire week, basically, from Monday morning to Saturday afternoon. Yoongi had to force him to go home. “Eomma, please, stop. I was literally still in bed.”

Eomma clicks her tongue, fluffing up his pillow. “It’s almost midday, Jungkook-ah,” she scolds, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. Jungkook tries not to roll his eyes. “Why were you still in bed?”

“I just said I worked overtime this week,” Jungkook says, exasperated. Why is she picking an argument after showing up to his place unannounced?

“Jungkook-ah.” Eomma crosses her arms, staring at him pointedly.

Jungkook just gestures to the couch. “Have a seat, Eomma. I’ll make you some tea and we can just catch up. I don’t wanna fight right now,” he says, stepping forward. He takes her hand, guiding her to sit down. “I promise, I was just surprised to see you. But you’re here now, and that’s fine.”

For a second, Eomma seems like she wants to protest, but she sits on the couch without another word. Jungkook heats up water in the kettle, using those few minutes to calm down and tell himself that it’ll be okay. He can handle a day with his mom, even if she’s a little overbearing.

“Here,” Jungkook says as he hands off a mug of tea, taking a seat beside her. His eyes are still a bit heavy, but he manages to smile through the fatigue in his body. “Where did Abeoji go this time?”

“Just Seoul. He returns on Tuesday.” Eomma dips the tea bag around in her mug, not quite looking at Jungkook. “How come you’re working overtime?”

“My patient fell, and his son requested for me to do some overtime to help with the after effect,” Jungkook explains, holding back the smile that twitches on his lips. He and Yoongi have only shared a few more kisses here and there since they last sat down and talked, but it’s still been good between them. “He’s better now. I think one more week of overtime and I’ll be done, because I’m so tired.”

Eomma sighs, rubbing Jungkook’s knee. “You work so much, Jungkook-ah,” she mumbles, as Jungkook takes a sip of his tea. It isn’t so bad these days because he gets to spend time with Yoongi, even though he knows it’s only because of Abeonim’s fall and that means they’re both in the house more. “Any other news?”

“You mean my love life?” Jungkook asks, rolling his eyes playfully. Eomma has always been a little more open about his sexuality, in comparison to Abeoji.

“Come on, is it wrong to want a son-in-law?”

“No…” Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t not want to settle down, but he’s not particularly looking for that at this stage of his life. If this thing with Yoongi works out, then maybe he’ll consider it more seriously. “But even if I am seeing someone, don’t be so hopeful.”

Eomma pauses, sips her tea, then asks, “Are you seeing someone?”

Jungkook fiddles with his tea bag, keeping his lips pursed. He doesn’t want to just admit it out loud, but he’s sure his silence speaks volumes for him. Plus he doesn’t feel like outright denying that he and Yoongi are starting something, even if he doesn’t know what that something is.

The issue lies with telling her about Yoongi. How they met, who he is, how old he is. Jungkook is only twenty-eight, and Yoongi being thirty-five is going to be a cause for concern. His parents are constantly worried about him in the first place, so adding that he’s seeing an older man will definitely make them spiral.

“What’s his name?” Eomma asks, moving her hand from Jungkook’s knee to his shoulder.

“Yoongi.” Jungkook takes a big gulp of his tea. It’s lukewarm now—too strong and bitter. “He’s—he’s actually, uh… my patient’s son. He’s really nice, and I like him, so…”

“Oh, that’s… interesting.”

Jungkook winces at that reaction. It’s not as dramatic as he thought, but certainly just as judgmental.

“He’s an architect,” he continues anyway, because why stop when he’s already started? If he gets everything out now, then he won’t have to worry about it later. Eomma will tell Abeoji either way. “He grew up here, in Daegu. But he traveled a lot for work, so he only came back to live here four months ago. He… really cares about his dad.”

“Sounds like a nice boy,” Eomma says with a slight nod, a whisper of a smile. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that she does not think Yoongi is a nice boy. “How old is he?”

Ah. The dreaded question.

“Thirty-five,” Jungkook murmurs, as quietly as he can. He knows how immoral it can sound, considering the large difference between the two of them, but he genuinely believes that it isn’t that noticeable when they’re together. Yoongi has never used his age for his own benefit around Jungkook.

“Jungkook-ah.” Eomma sets down her tea, the concern already bleeding into her expression. Jungkook knew that it was coming, yet he still frowns in surprise at the disappointment dripping from her words. “You should find someone nice that’s close to your age, maybe one or two years older than you. Not—not seven.” She shakes her head. “What were you thinking?”

Jungkook shrugs. He wasn’t thinking too deeply into the age gap. Not until now, at least. Not until he realized it would be such a problem for his parents. They would think differently if they met Yoongi. They don’t know him yet, so they can’t judge him like that.

“Hey.” Eomma tilts Jungkook’s head back towards her, eyes softened now, but Jungkook struggles to stay focused on her. “My mother used to tell me the same thing. She married my dad when she was young, and they were ten years apart. Imagine the kind of gap she felt, hm? I don’t want my boy to feel like that.”

“I don’t feel like that with him,” Jungkook argues, rubbing his eyes. Why isn’t she understanding that? “He doesn’t make me feel too young, or that he’s older. I don’t know—it feels like… we’re on the same level.”

“Jungkook.” Eomma sighs, the disapproval so clear in her tone, her eyes. Jungkook wishes for nothing but to just sink into the couch cushions and vanish. He had zero plans of telling his mom any of this so soon, especially before anything real could spark between him and Yoongi. “You tell me these things, and it makes me worry about you.”

Jungkook goes back to his lukewarm tea. “It’s not bad,” he says weakly, keeping his eyes downcast. He’s telling himself that now, but what if Eomma is right? What if Jungkook ends up feeling an astronomical difference between him and Yoongi? “I’m still getting to know him… I don’t know why you’re so worried. I’m an adult. He’s an adult.”

“I worry because you’re my son,” Eomma says, sliding her palm along the lower side of his back. It’s an attempt to be comforting, but Jungkook naturally shifts away from the touch. He doesn’t want to be comforted, not about this. “You may be an adult, but you can make mistakes too.”

“And what, I’m not allowed to make them?” Jungkook asks with a scoff, frustration swelling. “Isn’t that how I’m supposed to learn, Eomma? By making mistakes and understanding what I’ve done wrong?”

Eomma sighs and shakes her head again. “You’re still young, Jungkook-ah,” she says, but Jungkook doesn’t believe that has anything to do with what she’s saying. A piece of it has to be rooted in the fact that Yoongi’s a man, no matter how accepting she acts. “I don’t know this Yoongi boy you’re so infatuated with, but how could that age difference be good for you?”

“Eomma, please.” Jungkook rubs a hand over his face. He just wanted to rest today, not spend his morning fighting with his mom about the guy he likes. “I’m tired, let’s drop it.”

“Fine, but think about what I said, okay?”

Jungkook flares his nostrils and nods. He doubts there’ll be any shortage of thinking over her words.

The rest of the day is spent without another mention of Yoongi. He takes Eomma out for lunch, and they do a bit of light shopping too. She cooks him food for dinner, and talks about her friends back home and all the paintings she does. Jungkook just listens obediently, because he’s afraid of upsetting her after their conversation.

Come morning, well after Eomma had left last night, Jungkook is still thinking about what she said as he heads to Abeonim’s house. Unlucky for him, he crosses paths with Yoongi just as he’s standing outside his car door to leave for work.

“Hey,” Yoongi says with a smile, leaning one arm on the top of his car. Jungkook only offers a half-hearted wave, distracted by his overthinking brain. “You doing okay? I told you to get some rest, but it doesn’t seem like it.”

Jungkook shrugs, shouldering his bag higher. He drank two cups of tea last night and still had trouble falling asleep. “My mom visited yesterday,” he says, eyes finding the warmth in Yoongi’s, inviting him closer. Jungkook stays planted at the doorstep. “I didn’t sleep much last night either. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Yoongi eyes him warily, like he knows Jungkook isn’t telling the full truth. “By the way, Abeoji mentioned something about wanting to visit me at work for lunch or something. Have a word with him about it. I’m fine with it, so it’s up to you.”

“That sounds nice,” Jungkook murmurs on autopilot, forcing a smile. Yoongi’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth like he wants to ask about it, but Jungkook turns away before he can. All Jungkook can think about are his mom’s lingering words of concern. “Um. Have a good day at work.”

“You too, Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook gives another glance over his shoulder, to find Yoongi smiling at him in the most endearing way. His heart flutters for a moment, before the feeling is swallowed by his newfound fear of being too naive for a relationship with Yoongi.

++

Lunch with Yoongi doesn’t work out for another week or so, and in the meantime, Jungkook has been blowing him off. It’s intentional, and Jungkook knows that Yoongi can see that. As much as it sucks to stay away and not talk to him as much, Jungkook doesn’t want to waste either of their time while he’s strung up like this. They can only work things out once his thoughts are sorted.

Yoongi tries to communicate with him, with his sweet good morning’s and soft good night’s, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s cheek every once in a while. He’s laid off on the drinking, much to Jungkook’s pleasure, and the improved mood shows. It just sucks that Jungkook is too consumed by his thoughts to really applaud him for it.

When noon rolls around, Jungkook helps Abeonim pick out a nicer outfit and get dressed. He’s excited to go have lunch outside, but Jungkook’s not sure if it’s because of Yoongi or because they choose their favorite restaurant. Either way, it’s refreshing to see Abeonim so full of energy since his fall.

They chat a little on the walk over to the restaurant, Abeonim’s left hand resting in the crook of Jungkook’s elbow, the other sitting on top of his cane. Jungkook has loneliness wrapped loosely around his neck, threatening to tighten and overtake all five of his senses. Days like this make Jungkook want to succumb to loneliness and its desire for control.

Yoongi is already seated inside the restaurant, browsing the menu. Abeonim’s face lights up at the sight of him, and although he doesn’t say much other than a greeting, Jungkook can tell that he’s happy to see Yoongi.

Abeonim sits diagonal from Yoongi, which forces Jungkook to either sit beside him or across from him. He chooses across, because sitting beside Yoongi would feel too close, regardless of how intimate sitting across from him is.

“Did you guys have a nice morning?” Yoongi asks, pushing aside the menu, smiling at Jungkook. He looks significantly healthier these days, and Jungkook wants to say something about it, but can’t bring himself to. He can hardly bring himself to look Yoongi in the eye.

Jungkook shrugs. “I guess,” he mumbles instead of answering more genuinely, tugging the menu over to himself. He passes Abeonim his reading glasses and opens it for him to browse, trying to not be so obvious in ignoring Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t say much for another ten, fifteen minutes, while Jungkook and Abeonim agree to order their favorite dishes. Abeonim is busy looking around the restaurant like it’s his first time inside, commenting on the interior, the decoration, the staff. When Yoongi finally opens his mouth, it’s only to respond to Abeonim’s rambling.

For most of lunch, Jungkook keeps to himself and lets Abeonim and Yoongi bond with each other, listening to their laughter, watching for the upturn of Yoongi’s lips. It tugs him into the eye of the storm brewing inside his mind, kicks his appetite so far away that Jungkook hardly touches his food. He knows there are better ways to handle everything that’s happening, but it’s easier to hide from it.

By the end of lunch, Jungkook knows he can’t avoid Yoongi’s worried eyes any longer. As soon as they step outside the restaurant, sunshine washing over him, yet not burning away that loneliness around his neck, Yoongi grabs his hand. His grip is loose, giving Jungkook the option to pull away if he wants. He doesn’t; he just slips his fingers between Yoongi’s, holding tight.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, pulling his hand out of Jungkook’s palm when Abeonim turns to look at them. Jungkook keeps his hand hovering midair, staring at the emptiness that now shrouds it, how cold it suddenly feels. He didn’t realize how much he missed Yoongi.

Jungkook quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, when he realizes where his mind is running off to. “I’m fine, Yoongi-ssi,” he mutters, shrugging off the brush of Yoongi’s hand on his shoulder. He purposely looks away to ignore the way disappointment climbs into Yoongi’s eyes, the way his shoulders drop slowly. “I’m just going to take Abeonim home now, so I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi grabs him another time, tighter, hand enclosed around Jungkook’s wrist. “You know you can talk to me too, right?” he asks, voice leaning on the desperate side. Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t even know how to bring up his insecurities, he’s not very good at that sort of thing. “Jungkook-ssi.”

“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook repeats, pulling his arm away, catching up to Abeonim waiting on the street corner. He doesn’t dare look back to see if Yoongi watches them leave, or heads back to work without lingering.

On the way back to Abeonim’s house, they make a detour to sit in the park for a while. Jungkook stays quiet as he watches young children climb the play structure. He doesn’t remember being so unafraid of getting a knee scrape, he doesn’t remember what it was like to be a fearless child. All he can recall is loneliness burrowing into him at nineteen, cold and unforgiving.

“You are quiet today, Jungkook-ah,” Abeonim comments, after they’ve sat for ten minutes on their favorite bench. They like it because they have a good view of the whole park; from the open field, to the workout station, to the walking trail, to the playground. “What’s on your mind?”

“Too much,” Jungkook whispers, tucking his hands between his knees. He watches a boy climb a tree with his friend egging him on from below. “I’m not sure you could remember this, Abeonim, but did you have a time where you felt like your mind was endless?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing at Abeonim, although he’s busy gazing at trees above. “I mean, that you were so unsure about something, that it just—took over your thoughts?”

Abeonim sighs. “Have I ever told you about my son?” he asks, as if they did not just eat lunch with the man himself.

“You’ve mentioned him,” Jungkook says softly, pressing his quivering lips together. He has no clue where Abeonim is taking this conversation.

“His name is Yoongi. I think.” Abeonim sighs again, head still turned towards the trees. Jungkook does the same, light passing through the branches and leaves, shading them from the heat of the sun. “A long time ago. I don’t know how long ago. I said some very bad things. He said things that hurt me too. I… don’t remember.”

Jungkook swallows around the lump forming in his throat. He would be stupid to not realize that Abeonim is referring to that fight Yoongi mentioned to him a few weeks ago.

“But for a long time, I know I did. That boy is… so stubborn.” Abeonim laughs, like he genuinely finds it funny. Jungkook forces his mouth into a smile, laughing along just for the chance it could actually improve his mood. “He was so resistant to me. It’s okay now, but he was just a foolish boy before. A child. I wish I could take back what I said to him.”

For his curiosity’s sake, Jungkook tries his luck by asking, “Do you remember what you fought about?”

“Hm… I think it was nonsense.” Abeonim shakes his head, still smiling fondly at the sky. “I think I said something hurtful. I think—that I said I regretted having him so late in life. His classmates’ parents were younger than me and my wife.”

Water brims Jungkook’s eyes. “And…” He trails off, swallows, finds his train of thought again. “And what did Yoongi-ssi say?”

“That he hated me, I think.” Abeonim’s smile vanishes in an instant, replaced by the furrow of his brow. Jungkook digs his fingernails into his knee. “He wanted me to save my wife. I wish I could have saved her. But that—that thing took her, do you understand?”

“I understand, Abeonim.”

“I miss my son,” Abeonim says, reaching for Jungkook’s hand, cradling it on his own. “I miss him greatly. I hope he’s happy.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond again, and simply holds Abeonim’s hand until he decides it’s time for them to go home.

Once they’re inside the house, Jungkook helps Abeonim into bed for a nap after their long afternoon, then gets to work on chores. Cleaning proves as a distraction, fretting over how spotless the counters are, or whether the laundry is dry enough to fold. It’s time consuming too, because it eats up the next two hours, just trying to tidy up the entire house.

When Jungkook tries to wake Abeonim for a snack or early dinner, all he gets in response is a grunt and a push to his shoulder. The outing must have taken too much energy, so Jungkook slinks back out the bedroom with a sigh. At this point, he may as well clock out and take a break.

Jungkook takes a second shower in an attempt to wash away the loneliness, once he clocks out. Perhaps if he turns the water hot enough, then surely he’ll be free of its grasp. He takes his time under the scorching water, running his fingers through his wet hair, over the bumps of his ribs, the jut of his collarbones. Briefly, he wonders if the gentle way he’s touching himself is similar to the way Yoongi might touch him.

That one thought is all Jungkook needs to fall back into the abyss of overthinking. He shuts off the shower once his skin has become pruned, and he’s used up enough hot water for it to have gone warm. His chest feels tight, drying off with his towel, tying it around his waist. Jungkook tries to ease the ache by drinking some water, sitting on the edge of his bed to recuperate.

But the feeling returns in waves.

Goosebumps rise along Jungkook’s bare arms, shivering when a draft carries through the open window and onto his skin. The tightness grows more unbearable, and Jungkook sinks his fingernails into his sternum, attempting to rip it away. His body moves shakily as he forces himself to get dressed, but there’s nothing to steady him.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to put on his slippers and climb up to the roof. He curls up at the edge, reminded of when he and Yoongi last talked up here. But loneliness claims him this time, wrapping him in cold winds until his teeth chatter and body is numb.

He doesn’t know when he started crying, exactly, but he just lets it happen. The tears flow down his face, into his knees, leaving behind emptiness. Jungkook doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him, why he feels like this. All because of a few words his mom said to him. How pathetic.

“Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook flinches, wiping his cheeks, head turned away when Yoongi sits down beside him. “Hey,” he says, leaning closer to bump his shoulder against Jungkook’s. It’s a sweet gesture. Yoongi keeps trying to ease the tension between them, but Jungkook only makes everything worse. “It’s windy out here.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispers, putting a cap on crying long enough to look at Yoongi and force a smile. “I’m okay.”

“You look cold,” Yoongi replies, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. He sits up and pulls off his suit jacket, pulling Jungkook’s left arm in first, then guiding the right arm in too. “Is that at least a little warmer?”

The jacket smells like Yoongi’s cologne, wraps around him like a hug. Jungkook sniffles and nods, and tries not to start crying all over again. What is Yoongi doing to him? Why does he keep feeling this way?

“Hey,” Yoongi repeats, softer, one hand coming to rest on Jungkook’s cheek. His thumb slowly wipes the tear that escapes from his eye, worry etched onto his face. Jungkook can’t bear it; he doesn’t deserve this care. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet for a few weeks now, and… I just…”

Jungkook flutters his eyes shut and brings his cheek flush to Yoongi’s rough palm. “You shouldn’t worry about me,” he mumbles, clenching his hands in his lap. It feels like everything is on fire when Yoongi is touching him. No more goosebumps. “Please. Don’t worry about me.”

“Why not?” Yoongi strokes Jungkook’s cheekbone, gentle and careful, and all the things Jungkook wants from him. Things he feels like he doesn’t deserve. “Don’t you understand?”

“Understand what?” Jungkook asks, with a forced laugh, opening his eyes to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, pressing a kiss to the center of Jungkook’s forehead. Even his lips are warm, the imprint searing into Jungkook’s skin.

“I like you,” Yoongi whispers, and the tears start falling from Jungkook’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t understand,” Jungkook cries, hiding his face against Yoongi’s shoulder. He’s too much of a mess for Yoongi to see him like this. “Why? Why do you like me? Aren’t I too young for you? Can’t you do better? I’m just a nurse.”

“You aren’t just anything, Jungkook.” Yoongi brings his hand to rest on the back of Jungkook’s head, stroking his hair. He doesn’t make an effort to push Jungkook away. “You’re the only person who has ever really seen me in the last fourteen years. How could I not like you? You’re the kindest, sweetest, most caring person. You don’t have an obligation to treat me nicely when I’m your patient’s son, but here we are.”

Jungkook whimpers, pressing his body closer to the warmth radiating from Yoongi. He wishes he didn’t wait so long to let this out. Bottling it up has done nothing good for him.

“I may be older than you, and you may be younger than me. But that doesn’t make me like you any less.” Yoongi’s arms tighten around Jungkook, securing him into place. Jungkook feels his breathing even, his tears come to a halt. “You are who I want, okay?”

“I—I—I don’t—”

Yoongi shushes him. “Breathe,” he mutters, lifting Jungkook’s face out of his shoulder. His eyes are soft, kind. He looks at Jungkook like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “It’s okay. Breathe, then talk.”

It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to catch his breath, even when he’s dying to finally tell Yoongi everything that’s been on his mind the last couple of weeks. But Yoongi is patient, cradling Jungkook with an arm around his shoulders, petting his hair to calm him down. Jungkook couldn’t ask for someone better.

“I let myself get caught up in my insecurities,” Jungkook starts, breath shuddering as he exhales. Yoongi has taken to rubbing small circles with his thumb against Jungkook’s back, a sense of calm washing over him. “My… mom. She kind of pressured me into telling her about you. She found out about your age and… she just—she just kept asking me why. Like I’m wrong for liking you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with us,” Yoongi says, kissing the top of Jungkook’s head.

“I know,” Jungkook replies, turning his head to look up at Yoongi. There’s a bothered look in his eyes, his soft features all hardened by a frown. “But she made it seem like there was. And it got into my head, so I started pushing you away. I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you, but all I could think about was what she said.”

“What exactly did she say?”

Jungkook blinks a couple of times, ignoring the faint burn from crying. “She was worried I would feel the gap too much. Like… that we couldn’t get along because you’re so much older and more mature. She was convinced that someone closer in age would be more appropriate.” He swallows, watching as Yoongi’s expression barely shifts. “But—but I don’t want that. I like you, Min Yoongi-ssi.”

“I like you too,” Yoongi whispers, with his lips pursed and eyes wide. “You didn’t realize that when I let you kiss me the first time?”

“I wasn’t sure. How could I have been sure?”

Yoongi brings their lips together, careful and hesitant. He kisses Jungkook so gently, sends warmth spreading through every inch of his body, taking away the burdensome lonely feeling with every flick of his tongue.

“You just needed to ask,” Yoongi says, then smiles. His smile must be the equivalent of a thousand suns with the way it lights up Jungkook’s world. “Do you want to go back inside now?”

Jungkook nods his head. Maybe if they return to the warmth inside the house, Jungkook can finally abandon loneliness to rot outside alone.

They carefully climb the stairs off the roof, hands interlaced, and Jungkook doesn’t remove Yoongi’s jacket, just wraps it tighter around himself. Yoongi notices, raising his eyebrows as he pulls Jungkook closer by the collar. One hand lowers to the small of his back and this funny, tingly feeling rises in his stomach.

“You’re very cute, did you know that?” Yoongi asks, stepping forward, while Jungkook steps back into the kitchen counter. He looks down at Yoongi, trying to steady his breathing—only this time, it’s more because Yoongi is so close, and looking at him so intensely. All that attention makes Jungkook’s head spin.

“Uh,” Jungkook mutters, intelligently, making himself smaller to burrow into Yoongi’s chest. “I think you’re cuter.”

Yoongi laughs against him, squeezing his waist. “You should take the rest of the night off,” he mumbles into Jungkook’s ear, this rough edge to his voice. Jungkook shudders from the heat of it. “Get some proper rest. I can take care of Abeoji until morning?”

Jungkook bites his lip, unsure. Abeonim is having such an odd day, trying to place Yoongi’s older face to his name. Jungkook has no idea how Abeonim will react to Yoongi trying to help him instead.

“It’ll be okay. It’s been getting better with him. It’s a slow process, I’m understanding that more now.” Yoongi pulls away, and adjusts the damp strands of Jungkook’s hair, then kisses him once. “You go rest, okay? You deserve it. All this overtime couldn’t have been helping your brain.”

“Okay,” Jungkook agrees, and pulls Yoongi in for one more kiss.

He shouldn’t have worried so much.

++

“Good morning, Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook groans at the slight ache in his lower back, stretching his legs as they collide with Yoongi’s. Memories from last night are fuzzy, all except for drifting off with his head perched on Yoongi’s shoulder after telling him more about his experience at nursing school. Yoongi listened with his undivided attention on him, fingers running up and down Jungkook’s arm. That was probably what lured him to sleep.

A few days after they talked again on the roof, Yoongi initiated this thing they’re doing—to sit together for an hour or two once Abeonim has gone to be, regardless of how tired they are, and just talk. Getting to know each other properly under these circumstances has been difficult, so Jungkook agreed without a moment to rethink.

They’ve talked about most things. Jungkook told Yoongi about growing up in Busan, moving to Seoul for nursing school, then following job opportunities around the country. He talked about his parents, only a little bit, how they can be overprotective, but still love and cherish him. Told Yoongi about the guilt he feels about not being able to visit so often.

He hasn’t told Yoongi about loneliness. Not yet, at least. Jungkook wants to soon, but bringing up something that’s lived within him for years is easier said than done.

Yoongi told him about his traveling job more in-depth. Talked about the different cities and countries he visited just to design various buildings, all the people he met, the stories they told. He explained—vaguely, of course, because Yoongi isn’t very direct about his emotions—about his fight with Abeonim fourteen years ago, and cried a little, so Jungkook held his hand and kissed him until he laughed.

There isn’t an extraordinary amount of things they have in common, but Jungkook is willing to learn about Yoongi’s interests the more they get to know each other. It seems like the feeling is mutual; that Yoongi wants to know more about Jungkook’s interests too. That they both want to understand things about the other.

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?” Jungkook asks, burying his face into Yoongi’s shoulder, breathing in the faint cologne still on his body. Or it could be his body wash, he’s not entirely sure. It’s a bit citrusy, kind of what Jungkook would expect a warm summer day at the beach to smell like. “I’m not working.”

Yoongi’s fingers gently scratch the back of Jungkook’s neck. “It’s nice,” he mutters, kissing the crown of Jungkook’s head, sighing quietly. “I didn’t expect you to stay and talk last night, but I’m not complaining. I got to hear about all the crazy shit nursing school Jungkook got up to.”

Jungkook groans, then laughs at the memory of some of the stories he relayed. It was a short phase he had, partying and drinking and sleeping with guys in his year. He can’t believe he told Yoongi any of those. They were buried so deep into his subconscious, he practically forgot about them.

“Come on,” Jungkook mumbles, kissing up the side of Yoongi’s neck, until they’re peering into each other’s sleep-ridden eyes. Yoongi looks the softest when he’s half-asleep. “Don’t tease me about that. I don’t doubt you’ve had your share of crazy adventures while traveling around the world.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, digging his fingers into Jungkook’s waist to tickle him. “I have, you’re right, but I don’t think you want to know,” he says, while Jungkook attempts to wriggle away and kick Yoongi off the couch. He never should have revealed that he’s ticklish pretty much anywhere. “I was like you for a while, in that sense.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Jungkook asks, effectively rolling himself on top of Yoongi, pushing his hands against the couch. Sometimes being the stronger one pays off, in situations like this. “Well, not everyone. But lots of people try it to see if it’s for them.”

“That lifestyle’s addicting though,” Yoongi says, tilting his head back, heavy breaths falling from his mouth. He doesn’t even bother resisting against Jungkook, which kind of ruins the fun of it. “It wasn’t fun for me. And I don’t think it was for you, either. Seeing that we’re both lying here, that is.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, huh, Min Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook blows a piece of hair out of his face.

Yoongi pulls his innocent face. “I’m not sure what you mean, Jeon Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook eases his grip, leaning down to press their lips together for a few seconds. “Come for a walk with me?” he asks against Yoongi’s skin, nudging their noses again. Yoongi blinks up at Jungkook, like he’s surprised by the offer. “I usually run in the morning, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up with my pace.”

“Are you calling me slow because I’m older than you?”

“Nope, I’m just calling myself fast.”

Yoongi pushes against Jungkook’s chest and mutters, “Get off and we can go.”

Victorious, Jungkook climbs off of Yoongi, stretching his arms midair. Yoongi’s hands are on him immediately, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, stroking the bare skin. Jungkook giggles under his breath at the feeling, sinking into the touch, into the breath suddenly against his ear. It’s new, this intimacy, but he isn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” Yoongi asks, speaking against the back of Jungkook’s neck, pressing his nose there. “It drives me insane.”

“You can’t ask me to get off you and then put your hands all over me,” Jungkook replies, finding one of Yoongi’s hands as it slides towards his stomach. The feeling ignites fire inside him. “That’s not fair. I want to go outside.”

Yoongi hums, nuzzling deeper into Jungkook’s neck. The things this man does—it drives Jungkook insane too. “We can,” he whispers, words sending a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. The good kind of chill; nowhere close to the loneliness that Jungkook is so accustomed to. “I just want a minute to admire you, yeah?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but lets Yoongi have it. He doesn’t get admired every day, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to have someone like Yoongi touching him like this.

They stand there, so close, Yoongi’s fingers tracing Jungkook’s skin beneath his shirt, Jungkook following the path of his hands with his own. Yoongi leaves kisses on the nape of his neck, on the back of his head. Whispers, “I like you so much,” like it’s a secret that Jungkook must keep. Jungkook is willing to keep it, if it means that Yoongi will stay this close to him.

Jungkook manages to shake Yoongi off after a couple more minutes, parting ways to get dressed for a walk. He merely changes his shorts and pulls on a hoodie, rummaging through his bag for a pair of socks. But it seems like they’re all dirty, so he shuffles over to Yoongi’s room with a frown and a pout.

“Hey, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook calls quietly, pushing the slightly ajar door open a few more inches, stopping in his tracks. That’s a lot of Yoongi’s skin. “Uh…”

“Need something?” Yoongi asks, smirking a little, arms about halfway into a clean t-shirt. He isn’t putting it on. Why isn’t he putting it on? Is he doing this on purpose? “Jungkook-ssi?”

“Huh?”

“See something you like?”

Jungkook averts his eyes, feeling his face get hot. “U-uh. Just wanted to borrow some socks,” he mumbles, hoping that Yoongi has put on his shirt now that he isn’t looking. “You’re such a tease, by the way. It’s not fair.”

“Sure I am,” Yoongi says with a laugh, using his index finger to turn Jungkook’s head back towards him. He’s luckily dressed now, with a pair of white socks in his other hand. “I don’t think you’re much better.”

“What have I done that’s teasing, huh?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the doorframe to tug on the socks. Yoongi does the same while sitting at the edge of his bed, eyebrows raised. “I’m the most non-teasing person ever.”

“I saw you shirtless within two weeks of meeting you.”

Jungkook’s face heats up even more as he remembers. “That doesn’t count! I spilled tea on myself,” he complains, letting Yoongi drag him down the hallway, to the entryway. “If I hadn’t, then I could have gotten hurt.”

Yoongi lets go of his hand to rummage through the messy pile of shoes by the door. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jungkook-ssi,” he mutters, still pushing aside different pairs of Yoongi and Abeonim’s shoes. “My god, where are my sneakers?”

Jungkook glances around the floor, then stifles a laugh. “Turn around, maybe,” he says, picking up his own running shoes from the neat pile of his shoes, kept away from the clutter. Yoongi turns around with a huff, finding them strewn to the side alone. “You’re cute. Let’s go already, please.”

“Impatient,” Yoongi says under his breath, opening the front door. Jungkook makes sure to bump his shoulder on his way out, just for the little comment.

With ease, Jungkook’s hand slips into Yoongi’s as they begin to walk. It’s more silent than Jungkook thought it would be, but he’s enjoying the morning quiet with Yoongi. He doesn’t usually spend his mornings like this, so the change of pace is extra refreshing.

Jungkook doesn’t quite realize that Yoongi is actually taking him somewhere until he’s pulled to a stop outside a small coffee shop. Jungkook follows him inside, and starts to let go of Yoongi’s hand, just for the grip to tighten.

Yoongi looks back at him, eyebrows raised, as if to ask going somewhere?

“Tease,” Jungkook mutters, trailing after him to a table. Yoongi only lets go so they can sit across from each other. “What is this place?”

“The real reason my dad hates coffee is because my mom loved it,” Yoongi says, turning his head up to look at the interior. He waves at someone lingering behind the counter, maybe the owner or an employee. “This place has been here for years. It was her favorite. I’ve been coming every so often since I moved back.”

Jungkook leans his cheek in his palm. “That’s so cute,” he mumbles, sighing dreamily. “You’re such a softie deep down. Who would have known?”

“You’re pretty much the only person who sees me like this,” Yoongi says, gently flicking the tip of Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook scrunches it up, going cross eyed trying to look at the spot that was hit. “At least now. Obviously my mom…”

“You don’t have to talk about her, you know,” Jungkook says, dropping his hand to the table. “Don’t force yourself.”

“No, I… I want to.” Yoongi pauses when the person he waved to comes to the table. He orders an iced coffee, then goes silent for Jungkook to get something. He doesn’t even like coffee all that much, so he just orders a hot tea.

Jungkook turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, because he knows just from observation that both Yoongi and Abeonim have trouble talking about her death. Her in general is practically an off-limits subject with Abeonim.

Yoongi nods his head decisively. “Yeah, it’s okay. I just—a loss like that obviously changed my entire life, so… I want you to know about her.”

Oh. Jungkook’s heart aches. Yoongi wants him to know about his mom.

“Okay,” Jungkook says with a smile. “Tell me about her, then.”

“She was… the best mom,” Yoongi starts, lowering his eyes from Jungkook, to the table between them. “When I was little, she’d take me around to do errands while my dad was at work. She shaped my work ethic that way, somehow. Even though she didn’t work, she was very dedicated to everything else she did. Raising me, and being a wife.”

Jungkook brushes his hand over Yoongi’s knuckles. “She sounds lovely,” he says, squeezing his fingers, then pulling away.

“When I got older, we’d come here a lot. Like a tradition, I guess.” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, then laughs a little. “When she gave me coffee the first time, I had jitters like crazy. My dad was so mad at her for giving it to a twelve-year old.”

“Sounds like him.” Jungkook laughs. He watches a small, watery smile form on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi looks up when the worker from earlier begins their drinks. Jungkook blows on his hot tea, while Yoongi stirs and has a sip of his iced coffee.

“Our family got weird when she was diagnosed,” Yoongi continues, his voice getting heavier as he speaks. Jungkook takes a careful sip of his tea. “Everyone just… drifted. I wanted to be around my mom all the time, and she was really strong through her treatment, but I thought I could fix it. I don’t know, I was a stupid kid.”

Jungkook doesn’t mention that he remembers Abeonim saying something about wanting to save her.

“I was only fifteen.” Yoongi rubs his eyes, sniffling. Jungkook passes him a napkin, watching him dab his wet cheeks. “God, it still fucks me up because she was the last person to deserve that. And I just—wish she could’ve seen me grow up completely. I really miss her, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, taking both of Yoongi’s hands. “It’s okay to miss her. She’s your mom. Like you said, losing someone like that changes your entire life.”

Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook with this awkward and sad half-smile. “It’s just weird,” he says, thumbs rubbing Jungkook’s knuckles. “These days, I keep finding myself wondering when it’s going to happen again. With Abeoji.”

“He’s got some time, you know? Doctor Kim said so at Abeonim’s last check-up. He’s in really good physical health, even after his fall,” Jungkook says, letting go with one hand to sip more of his tea. He’s not surprised that it’s some of the best tea he’s ever had. “I don’t know if what I’m saying makes you feel better, but. I promise you. He has time.”

“It’s nice to hear,” Yoongi says, letting go completely, sipping his coffee. He glances up at Jungkook, then back down at his coffee glass. “I just… wanted to tell you all this because… I think—I think we could turn out to be pretty serious, right?”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “Do you?” he asks, unable to hide how unsure he feels about that. “I mean, do you want this to be… serious?”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, well, I’m thirty-five. I don’t really want to be single the rest of my life.” He pauses, stirring the coffee with his straw. “Do you not want to? Because… if that’s the case…”

“No, no. That’s not the case,” Jungkook rushes to say, suddenly flustered. He takes a couple gulps of his tea. “I want to be. I don’t know why I asked.”

“You sure?”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook lifts a challenge eyebrow, leaning forward on the table. Yoongi mirrors the look. “You’re basically signing up to be my boyfriend.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure about that?” Yoongi asks, finishing the last of his coffee. Jungkook glances at his mug and realizes he’s barely made a dent in his drink. It probably won’t even taste good anymore. “Maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook smiles, letting his lips stretch across his face with no restraint. It feels too big for his mouth, but for once, he isn’t trying to hide the way he feels. He is happy, and Yoongi should know that.

“What does this boyfriend role entail, by the way?” Yoongi asks as an afterthought, while they’re waiting for the one worker to reheat Jungkook’s tea and put it in a to-go cup.

Jungkook rubs his chin thinkingly. “Hand holding, of course,” he starts, finding that list he made in his head once. “You have to kiss me. Once a day, at least. We have to keep up our nightly sessions. Make me food, buy me food. Maybe bring me tea in the evening sometimes.” He shrugs. “Just… be good to me. I don’t think you’ll have an issue with that.”

“You’re not worried about the whole… drinking thing?” Yoongi asks, words sounding a little odd when they’re practically spoken inside his mouth.

“Not as much anymore. You’re doing better about it.” Jungkook pokes Yoongi in the ribs when he notices pink crawling up his cheeks and towards his ears. “Yeah, I noticed. Don’t go all shy about it, you know it’s something you should be proud of.”

“I am proud. I just—was surprised that you’re not worried about it, is all.”

Jungkook crosses his arms. “If you were having more issues with your behavior and drinking, I don’t think we’d be standing here,” he says, accepting his reheated tea, gesturing towards the door with his other hand. Yoongi heads towards it, but not without latching onto Jungkook’s fingers. “You’re older than me, Yoongi-ssi, and I respect that. But I have enough self-respect too, to be able to acknowledge when people are talking down to me. Which you’ve done, while drunk.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says, squeezing Jungkook’s fingers sympathetically. “I have no excuse for that.”

“That being said,” Jungkook continues, taking a gulp of his tea. Yoongi looks up at him, waiting with this look of wonder on his face. “Whatever mood swings you get are perpetuated by alcohol. The fact that you know this, and that you’re asking me about how I feel, tells me that I don’t have a reason to worry. Because you care about me, don’t you?”

Yoongi huffs through his nose. “Well, yeah,” he mutters, letting go of Jungkook’s hand to cross his arms. Jungkook only laughs at his dramatics—of course Yoongi would get all weird when it comes to how he feels about Jungkook. “Of course I do.”

“Then?” Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t see the issue. You’re my boyfriend now.”

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds like sunshine. “I guess I am.”

++

Jungkook shuts his laptop with a sigh, sliding it onto the coffee table from where he’s sitting on the floor, and turns his attention to Yoongi and Abeonim bickering about what TV show to watch.

They’re sitting beside each other on the couch, the remote in Abeonim’s hand, and Yoongi is attempting to reach for it. Yoongi keeps trying to put on Netflix to watch one of those American TV shows he likes, and Abeonim is arguing with him because he wants to watch a romance drama that he and Jungkook have been following the last few weeks. Suffice to say, it’s an amusing squabble to watch.

In the end, Abeonim grunts as he shoves Yoongi away from him, and tosses the remote into Jungkook’s lap. “Let Jungkook pick,” he says, sitting back against the couch with his arms crossed.

Jungkook meets Yoongi’s pleading eyes; he came home a little late today, and Jungkook knows that he wants to unwind with his favorite show, but… he also knows that Abeonim has been looking forward to watching this next episode since last week. Plus he’s also kind of following the romance drama too, so by default, that’s what he picks.

“Is this how you treat your boyfriend?” Yoongi asks when Jungkook moves to the couch, sitting close to Yoongi, almost letting their bodies touch. “Kind of unfair, if you ask me.”

“Shut up. You can watch it later,” Jungkook mutters, not tearing his eyes away from the screen—the last episode ended with the male lead realizing that he’s in love with the female lead, and now he’s running off to confess to her. He’s been waiting for this since the female lead started to crush on him.

Only a couple minutes in, Yoongi gets up with a gentle squeeze to Jungkook’s knee, and leaves the room without a word. Jungkook figures that he just isn’t interested in watching, so he shuffles an inch closer to Abeonim, conversing with him about the characters and how the plot is unfolding. But five minutes later, Yoongi comes back with both a mug of tea and a carton of banana milk.

“Wasn’t sure what you wanted,” Yoongi says under his breath as he sets both items on the coffee table, just beside Jungkook’s laptop. He sits down again, not so subtly draping his arm behind Jungkook, immediately turning his attention to the TV.

Jungkook blinks at the tea and milk. He didn’t think Yoongi would particularly remember this. Well, Yoongi is his boyfriend, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising, but still. Something about how nonchalantly he went and did it has Jungkook’s heart doing somersaults. Yoongi is hands down the cutest, sweetest person he’s ever dated.

“Yoongi-yah, you have to find someone like that,” Abeonim says, nudging him, pointing to the female lead on the TV screen. “She’s so sweet. I want a sweet daughter-in-law like that.”

“Hm… But you already have Jungkook,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook freezes as he reaches for the banana milk. He knows Yoongi is joking, but if everything goes well with them, it could just turn out to be true. “He’s pretty much the sweetest. No one’s sweeter than him, right Abeoji?”

Abeonim blinks, as if he’s stunned by the counterargument that Yoongi made. Jungkook slowly continues to grab his banana milk, putting the straw between his lips, taking a long sip. Abeonim turns toward Jungkook, frowning and studying him. They spend nearly every minute of every day together, and he still looks at Jungkook like he doesn’t quite recognize him.

“Good point,” Abeonim concludes, patting Yoongi’s knee a couple of times. Yoongi has a mischievous smile growing onto his face, so Jungkook pokes him in the ribs a couple of times because he deserves it. “Jungkook-ah, you’re not going anywhere, right?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. To be entirely honest, once he and Yoongi made things official a couple of weeks ago, he’s thought about finding work elsewhere. There are plenty of nursing homes he can work in, and he knows Abeonim’s treatment is best suited for a caregiver, rather than someone overqualified like him. Plus he just wants to have a proper space for himself. Dating the person you work for—while living with them—is kind of stifling.

In the silence, Abeonim simply returns to watching the show, but Yoongi notices that something is wrong. He turns his body towards Jungkook, placing one hand on his lower back, almost bracing himself. “Are you leaving?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. Jungkook shrugs; he’s still undecided. “Jungkook-ssi.”

“Let’s talk later,” Jungkook whispers, reaching back to pull Yoongi’s hand off. He cradles it for a moment, then places it on Yoongi’s knee, disregarding the worry in his eyes. “Promise. It’s fine, okay?”

“Okay,” Yoongi mumbles, wringing out his fingers in his lap. His attention reluctantly returns to the TV, but Jungkook’s mind stays planted on this.

He doesn’t want to leave. Jungkook always liked this job, even with the difficulties he had with getting Abeonim to cooperate with him in the beginning, and Yoongi giving him the scare of a lifetime when he showed up out of nowhere all those months ago. But balance is something he’s going to need if he wants this with Yoongi to work out.

Jungkook isn’t worried that Yoongi won’t understand. Given the respect they have for each other in a relationship like theirs, that came into fruition in such an unconventional way, Yoongi would be understanding about it. They’re both dating for the first time in a few years, so Jungkook wants to do this right. He likes Yoongi that much.

Once the episode is finished, Yoongi goes ahead and helps Abeonim up, heading to the kitchen together. Jungkook lingers on the couch, sipping his room temperature tea until the mug is cold and empty. When he joins them in the kitchen, he finds them eating dinner together. Jungkook ate during one of his breaks earlier, so he watches them fondly from the counter.

That’s the other thing, too. Abeonim’s condition fluctuates, but one thing that’s becoming steady is Yoongi’s presence. The resistance has dwindled the past couple of weeks; there haven’t been any incidents like the one Yoongi and Abeonim had when they first reunited. Jungkook isn’t concerned that they’ll cause the next caregivers problems.

Yoongi takes care of everything the rest of the evening. He cleans up with Abeonim, helps him take his meds—he even does the nightly check-in. Jungkook takes over after that, holding Abeonim’s arm as they go to his bedroom to get ready for bed. After another fifteen minutes of coaxing, Abeonim is in bed and out like a light.

“I missed you this morning,” Yoongi says into Jungkook’s ear from behind, as Jungkook is tidying up the dishes. His breath is ticklish and soft, landing on his cheek, arms sliding around his waist. His shoulders curve around Jungkook’s and snap in place, just like a puzzle piece. “Were you asleep or already on your run? I didn’t want to check your room in case you were asleep.”

“I slept in,” Jungkook says, giggling as Yoongi kisses from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. “We had a late night, so I needed the extra rest.”

Yoongi sighs, resting his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Last night was fun,” he mumbles into Jungkook’s shirt. “We should do it again sometime.”

It was fun, honestly. They added some alcohol to their nightly sessions and no one drank too much, but as the alcohol entered their bodies, the stories got a little more honest. So did their bodies, if you get what Jungkook is trying to say. He now knows that Yoongi would touch him as gently as possible.

“We can, but,” Jungkook pauses, shutting off the tap water, “we should talk too. There are some things on my mind. Both about us and about my job, so I need to discuss them with you.”

Yoongi peels himself off Jungkook, turning him around by his shoulders. “Is it bad?” he asks, and Jungkook feels a little sorry for sounding so serious earlier, because Yoongi is looking up at him with so much unadulterated fear in his eyes.

Jungkook presses a short, reassuring kiss to his lips. “No, Min Yoongi-ssi, it’s not bad. Serious—but it shouldn’t be bad.”

For a second, Yoongi looks unconvinced, but he nods and slides his hands off Jungkook’s shoulders. “Sure, then. Do you want a beer?” he asks, turning towards the fridge.

“Hm, I’m fine. And so are you,” Jungkook says, pulling Yoongi back. They’re not doing this. Just because he drank with Yoongi last night doesn’t mean he wants it to become a regular thing. Making the habit of drinking at the end of the night is the exact opposite of what they’re trying to do. “You don’t need a drink.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing,” Jungkook interrupts softly, cupping Yoongi’s jaw in his hand, bringing their lips together for a second. Yoongi kisses back, pulling back after with a sigh. His eyebrows are creased together, fingers clenched around the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. “I know it’s hard. I get that. But you don’t need a drink, okay?”

Yoongi licks his lips and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I know.”

Jungkook watches him for another handful of seconds, then drops his hand to lace their fingers together. Yoongi looks down at their hands, and it’s almost unnoticeable, but the corners of his mouth lift ever-so-slightly.

“Let’s go into your room,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi takes them down the hallway.

It takes a few minutes to get situated in Yoongi’s bed, but Jungkook ends up lying on his side, head propped up by his arm, while Yoongi sits up against the headboard, legs outstretched. The positioning isn’t ideal, but Jungkook will take it. As long as he has Yoongi’s attention for this, then it shouldn’t be an issue.

“I want to start with this thing,” Jungkook says, then takes a deep breath. The loneliness—that’s what he wants Yoongi to know about, before sharing any of his other thoughts about finding a different job. He’s kept it to himself for too long. “I… I don’t know what it is, exactly. Or why I get this feeling so often. But… I get lonely.”

“Lonely?” Yoongi asks, almost like he’s confirming that he heard Jungkook correctly.

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, lonely,” he says, reaching out with his index finger to follow the lines of Yoongi’s palm. “It comes and goes, and I just… I never really know what to do with it. At this point, I’ve just accepted that it lives with me. But I thought—I thought that it was something that you should know.”

Yoongi hums, bringing one hand to the top of Jungkook’s head, pushing it down until it’s resting in his lap. Jungkook readjusts, then he’s staring up into Yoongi’s dark eyes, that intense, unwavering gaze. As soon as Yoongi smiles, though, it’s a soft look—just pure love and affection, Jungkook thinks. He can tell Yoongi cares about him, just from the way he looks at him.

“It’s not like, super serious,” Jungkook continues, scrunching up his nose when Yoongi traces his fingertips along the slope, up to his forehead, over his eyebrows, against his cheek. His index finger presses against Jungkook’s bottom lip, tugging on it, then letting it go. “I, uh, I—I haven’t felt it much lately. I’m not counting on it staying that way, but it’s harder to say it when you’re in it, you know?”

“I know, Jungkook-ssi.” Yoongi adjusts a strand of Jungkook’s hair. “I’ll be here if you want to feel less lonely. And if even that doesn’t help, then I’ll just be here. For you, always, okay?”

“Okay,” Jungkook murmurs, covering his face when Yoongi smiles even wider. Yoongi is always looking at him in a certain earnest, honest way and it makes him so giddy. “Why do you look at me like that, huh?”

Yoongi pushes Jungkook’s fingers off his face, one by one, until they’re looking into each other’s eyes again. “Because,” he says, bringing Jungkook’s knuckles to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of his hand, “you deserve that. If I didn’t want you to myself, then I’d want everyone to look at you like that.”

Jungkook blinks a couple times, and mutters, “Possessiveness. Very healthy, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Shut up. I was just—trying to have a cute moment, okay?” Yoongi huffs, dropping Jungkook’s hand and crossing his arms, almost immediately. In the pale light of the room, Jungkook spots the slow rise of pink on Yoongi’s cheeks. “Whatever. Anyways. What were you saying about leaving?”

Jungkook arches his eyebrow. “I haven’t said anything about that yet,” he says, poking Yoongi in the stomach. As cute as he is, he’s very anti-emotions sometimes. They should probably work on that. “But, since you’ve mentioned it, I’m thinking that if we want to keep dating, it would be better if I found a job that had more structure to the day. It wouldn’t be good for our relationship to live together, like, immediately.”

“So…” Yoongi frowns, fiddling with the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. His warm fingers keep sending a shiver up Jungkook’s arms whenever they brush his stomach. “You’d just be leaving us?”

“I want to find caregivers that’ll help him better than I can,” Jungkook explains, grabbing Yoongi’s hand, kissing the center of his palm, similar to what Yoongi just did. He looks up, trying to remain calm about this—but his heartbeat is accelerating, so there’s not much he can do about that. “I’d still be around, you know? But I want to do this right. Don’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head slowly. “I do,” he says, squeezing Jungkook’s hand. “Is that the only reason you’re doing this? Because… we can figure something else out so you can keep working here and live elsewhere.”

“No, I just—I want to keep everything separate now. Instead of having everything so intertwined like they are now, we can have a distinct line between what’s work and what’s personal.”

“Yeah, because you kissing me after my dad fell is totally work related, right?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and mutters, “yeah, totally.”

“Okay, so… where are you going to work instead?” Yoongi asks, letting his hand fall to rest on Jungkook’s stomach again.

“I’m looking at nursing homes, but if none of those work out, I’ll probably go back to being a hospice nurse,” Jungkook says, yawning behind one of his hands. Now that he’s gotten everything on his mind out, the exhaustion from this past week is actually hitting him.

Yoongi moves one hand to brush through Jungkook’s hair, which really isn’t helping. All it’s doing is making Jungkook’s eyes droop shut right here in Yoongi’s lap, when he should be getting into his own bed for the night.

“Go to sleep,” Yoongi whispers, leaning over to press their lips together. Jungkook barely musters enough energy to kiss him back before he’s curling up, head still on Yoongi’s thighs, ready to knock out. “Sleep well, Jungkook-ssi. I hope you never feel lonely when you’re with me.”

As Jungkook slowly succumbs to sleep, he’s the warmest he has ever felt in Abeonim’s house.