Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Act I

“Hi, I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

If Yoongi knew that one sentence would change his life, he would have convinced Dad to never move to Korea.

At ten-years-old, he probably didn’t know how utterly fucked he was going to end up being. He couldn’t anticipate the type of relationship he would end up having with Jeon Jungkook over the next five years. Ten-year-old Yoongi was an idiot who only cared about being able to play basketball whenever he had the free time, not whether his deskmate would fuck up his life.

This isn’t to say that Jungkook was bad in any way. Yoongi thinks it’s quite the opposite, actually. After introducing himself, Jungkook shared his workbook with Yoongi since he hadn’t gotten any school supplies yet, and talked about all the different personalities of their classmates. He was a little smaller than everyone—still is—yet he was so acquainted with who everyone was and what they were up to.

Five years later, Yoongi still sort-of struggles with talking to all those people in their class. Being paired to sit with Jungkook year after year probably boosted his reputation somehow—not that he minds being associated with him. Jungkook has always been the more outgoing one; plus, he’s pretty smart considering he skipped a grade to be in Yoongi’s class.

Besides the point. All Yoongi is saying is that in some way or another, he thinks he would have been better off not moving to Korea for that one specific reason.

“Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi calls when he spots Namjoon crossing the street ahead of him. He’s the only person in their grade who lives on this side of the city too, so naturally it was easier to hangout with him. Yoongi’s grateful; he knows that Namjoon puts up with a lot of his bullshit. “Hey, did you finish that assignment for math?”

“Yeah, did you?” Namjoon asks, once Yoongi catches up to him. He’s about a head taller than their class, sort of like a walking beanstalk. At least that’s what Mom calls him. Everyone else is jealous of his height—especially Jungkook, who’s a head shorter. “I saw you were zoning out again.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he mutters, shoving his hands into the pockets of his uniform. It isn’t exactly his fault that Jungkook’s huge eyes are distracting. Where else was he supposed to look? “You know, he was practically holding my hand at lunch today.”

“Oh my god, really?” Namjoon asks with fake enthusiasm. “No way!”

“Shut up. I’m serious. He grabbed my hand.” Yoongi clenches his right hand into a fist. He swears he can still feel Jungkook’s loose grip around his palm. Just from remembering that tiny moment, his heart squeezes inside his chest. “It was so… soft.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Okay, tell me,” he says, turning around so he’s walking backwards down the hill. It’s stupid of him to do—Yoongi almost always tells him that. Because when Namjoon does it, he usually ends up backing into a pole. “Why did Jeon Jungkook grab your hand, Min Yoongi?”

Well, the reason isn’t as impressive as the actual moment. Yoongi had been more fixated on Jungkook actually touching his hand, than why he did it.

“He wanted me to get him some water.”

It doesn’t even take a second before Namjoon bursts out laughing.

Yoongi’s face heats up. “I know it sounds pathetic, okay?” He shoves Namjoon backwards, letting him nearly lose his balance. “But… It’s Jungkook. He’s perfect, you know that.”

“Can’t deny that,” Namjoon says with a shrug, facing forward again. “You know, I tried to do some sleuthing for you yesterday?”

“Sleuthing?” Yoongi repeats, the word feeling unfamiliar in his mouth.

Namjoon presses his lips together. “Like… secret research,” he amends, lifting an eyebrow. Yoongi nods his head. That makes a little more sense, even though he has no idea where Namjoon is going with this. “I asked Jungkook if he’d date another guy.”

“Namjoon!” Yoongi hits his arm, panic striking his chest. Why would he ask that? Jungkook could find out about his stupid not-so-small crush.

“Listen, he seemed pretty open!” Namjoon defends, shielding himself from Yoongi. “I’m telling you, he has a thing for you too. I’m sure of it.”

Yoongi stops in front of his house, crossing his arms as he thinks that suggestion over. He’s not as sure that Jungkook likes him back, but there are some vibes here and there. Jungkook has started acting nicer to him than anyone else in their friend circle, and after a few months of that, Yoongi is tempted to believe that Jungkook might like him too.

“We’ll see,” Yoongi says, waving when Namjoon starts walking again. “Bye, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon waves back, continuing down the hill with his back towards Yoongi.

As soon as Yoongi goes inside, he slips off his backpack and heads for the kitchen. Normally no one is home when he gets back from school, not even Honggi, so all he does is eat a snack and browse the computer for a couple hours. By the time his parents get back from work, Yoongi is doing his homework to avoid getting lectured.

Logically, actually doing his homework is the only way to avoid that. Or, pretending to do it, at least. He got a phone for his birthday, so that helps him stay distracted. Yoongi doesn’t have much interest in school, not the way Honggi does. His parents don’t bother him too much about excelling in school, even though Yoongi knows it’s important to them. They’re always preoccupied with Honggi anyway so it hardly matters.

Today is different. Yoongi doesn’t know who’s home, but he can sense he isn’t alone just by the feeling in the air. He still finds a snack to munch on, but his palms are sticky with nerves. Something is wrong, and he can’t figure out what exactly it is.

Until he hears his parents’ voices, then finds them sitting in their bedroom with the door slightly open. The computer is in their room, so there goes Yoongi’s chance of surfing the internet until he needs to do homework.

Mom catches sight of him in the doorway first, and her voice falters at the sight of him. That’s weird. “Yoongi-yah, you’re home,” she says with a smile, gesturing for him to come inside more. Yoongi glances around the room skeptically, then steps past the door frame. Dad’s sitting on the desk chair, the computer screen open behind him. “Why don’t you come sit down?”

Several things run through Yoongi’s mind as he sits down beside Mom, but only one thing sticks. This is the exact same way his parents primed him for moving to Korea five years ago, right down to the same words. This time, the two are together rather than Mom telling him alone. They both look terrifyingly serious.

That never means anything good. Mom is usually brighter than Dad in that sense. Even though she’s smiling, Yoongi knows something is off.

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” Dad starts, adjusting his glasses as he turns back towards the computer screen. Yoongi tries to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at, but the screen goes black before he can really make out the page. “How’s school going?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, thinking back to anything important that happened today. Some project or something was assigned today that he has to do with Jungkook. “I have a project with Jungkook due before summer break, I think.”

“Oh, what subject?” Dad asks—Mom is suspiciously quiet, and Dad never asks this many questions. Yoongi’s increasingly skeptical because this is just plain weird; why are they beating around the bush like this?

“Biology… Why are you guys acting like this?” Yoongi fiddles with the bag of chips in his lap, avoiding their prying eyes. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Mom places her hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, smiling softly. Not her usual smile—this one is more sympathetic. Apologetic. “Well… We went to work today, as usual,” she says, squeezing Yoongi’s shoulder once. He turns to face her more, raising his eyebrows. “Our boss told us there’s a new project back home.”

Yoongi blinks a couple of times. “Back home?” he repeats, unsure if she’s implying what he thinks she is. “You mean, in California?”

“Yes, California. The same area we lived in,” Dad interrupts, arms crossed when Yoongi turns his head to look at him. Does that mean what Yoongi thinks it means? Surely it doesn’t. “Since we only got the offer today, we haven’t decided to take it quite yet. But, we want you to know that we are leaning towards it.”

“We’re moving back?” Yoongi’s heart beats faster. For some reason, all his stupid brain is thinking about is that he won’t be able to see Jungkook anymore. What will happen if he moves away?

Dad sighs. “Yoongi-yah, I know it’s not—”

“No. We can’t.” Yoongi frowns just at the thought. Even putting aside his feelings about Jungkook, he has Namjoon here too. All the classmates and friends he’s gotten to know in the last five years. His entire life is here now. “We can’t move, Dad.”

“Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi shakes his head and says, “No. I don’t want to.”

Mom tries to soothe her hand down his back, but Yoongi shuffles away. “I know you don’t,” she says kindly, using her index finger to tip his head towards her. She still looks apologetic, and it’s driving Yoongi insane. I don’t want to move. “And it isn’t confirmed that we will or won’t. But it’s something that’s on the table and you’re old enough now for us to tell you that we’re considering it.”

“Does hyung know?” Yoongi asks, fully turning back towards her. He doesn’t think he can stand to see even a glimpse of Dad’s face right now. “Or am I—”

“We’re going to tell him when he gets home tonight,” Mom clarifies, but Yoongi’s mind is still reeling at this news. The last thing he wants is to move. And Yoongi doubts that Honggi is going to be as affected—he’s been talking about going back to America since they moved here.

Yoongi shrugs Mom’s hand off again. “Whatever,” he mumbles, pressing his quivering lips together as he gets up and leaves their bedroom.

He stands outside for a moment, his chest heaving, the air too hot and stifling. Yoongi feels pressure building in his throat, but he still pauses to see if his parents will come after him or not. They aren’t the type to be overly-concerned, but usually Mom will do something to comfort him. Maybe she thinks he doesn’t need it now that he’s too old.

“He’s gonna be fine, darling, you don’t have to worry about him so much,” Dad says, after a couple of seconds have passed. Yoongi tilts his head to glance back, watching him join her on the bed, taking Mom’s hands.

That’s all Yoongi sticks around for before he realizes that he’s still standing so close to the door. He shuffles towards his bedroom door for a moment, then decides—fuck it. He’s leaving for the evening. His parents have to know that he won’t be getting any work done, not after finding out that his life might be transported to the other side of the world again.

Yoongi changes out of his school uniform and finds his basketball, forcing his sneakers onto his feet. He doubles checks to hear if his parents are moving, then slinks out the front door. Hopefully they’ll stay distracted and not try to bother him for a couple of hours.

For a while, Yoongi just walks aimlessly around the neighborhood, searching for something to do. He grabbed his basketball on instinct, but now he doesn’t particularly feel like playing. There wasn’t anyone in the park when he checked either, so now he’s just… strolling around with too many thoughts in his head.

There’s nothing inherently wrong about moving back to California. Yoongi actually liked living there—when people ask where he’s from, that’s what he’ll usually say. That was his home for ten years. He wasn’t all that excited to suddenly move to Korea at that age, the same way he feels now about moving back.

Settling in here as ten-year-old Yoongi was tougher than he thought it was going to be. Most people avoided talking to him like the plague because he was the new foreigner kid, and apparently that made people less interested in being his friend. Only people like Jungkook and Namjoon were unafraid of befriending him.

That’s the whole thing—nothing was really tying Yoongi to California when he was ten. He was just a kid that wanted to enjoy life; things hadn’t become difficult yet. School wasn’t challenging, neither was making friends. None of those problems arose until he moved to Korea and all these cultural differences slapped him in the face.

Now he’s fifteen, and school is harder than it’s ever been. Yoongi just pretends he understands what’s going on. He can bullshit his way into passing his exams and scribble random answers on his homework, so he can at least get partial credit. Now he has Namjoon as his best friend, and Jungkook is the guy he likes. There are people here.

That’s not something Yoongi is willing to give up. He doesn’t really have a choice, if they do end up moving. But for as long as he can fight it, he’ll root for them to stay here.

Eventually, walking around gets tiring, so Yoongi heads a few streets down to Namjoon’s house. It’s a building nearly identical to the one Yoongi lives in, with a flat roof and slightly elevated structure. They’re both not the nicest homes to live in, but Yoongi’s parents claim that all their money went to buying their fancy house in California.

Yoongi knocks on the front door, setting his basketball down outside. He knocks a second time when no one answers, leaning against the wall to wait.

“Hey,” Namjoon says, frowning once he realizes that it’s Yoongi standing outside his house. Yoongi just lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave; his brain is too messy to even form a proper greeting in response. “I just left you like, half an hour ago. What happened?”

“My parents dropped the worst bomb on me, that’s what happened,” Yoongi replies, rubbing his eyes once he steps into the house. He takes off his shoes, waves to Namjoon’s mom on his way to Namjoon’s bedroom. “They were waiting to ambush me when I got home.”

Namjoon flops back onto his bed as Yoongi shuts the door. “Ambush you?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Why does it sound like you’re being dramatic again? I wouldn’t be surprised, considering how much you like to overexaggerate.”

“You suck. And no, this is serious,” Yoongi replies, sitting at Namjoon’s desk. He readjusts a few of the Pokémon figurines sitting on the edge, deliberately avoiding the topic of possibly moving away. Maybe if he doesn’t acknowledge it, it will never happen.

“Tell me,” Namjoon prods. “And stop touching those, they’re fine.”

Yoongi runs one hand through his hair and groans. “I might move again,” he mutters, staring up at Namjoon’s ceiling.

The reality of that comes crashing down on him. Everything he’s done to build himself up in the past five years is going to be for nothing. If he goes back now, he’s bound to be in the same grade as all his old friends, and he hasn’t heard from them in years. Yoongi didn’t even bother trying to keep in contact with anyone when he left.

But now—now Yoongi might be going back. Now he’s going to leave behind all his friends and his school and his life, and go back to a life in California he barely remembers.

“Oh shit, really?” Namjoon asks, propping his head up on his arm. Yoongi only nods solemnly. “Where to?”

Yoongi shuts his eyes and tilts his head back. “Back to California,” he answers, heart squeezing at the thought.

Not a good heart-squeeze. Not the kind Yoongi got when Jungkook grabbed his hand earlier today. Which, by the way—that was supposed to be the highlight of his day. Not his parents telling him they’re about to uproot their lives to take back to America.

“Not even to a different city,” Yoongi continues, shaking his head in disbelief. That’s part of what’s really rattling his brain. “It’s the same city I was born in. Like, half the kids I’d be going to school with would be the same from when I used to live there.”

“That sucks, man. Do you know why?”

Yoongi shakes his head again, turning to look at Namjoon again. He knows he’s just wallowing in self-pity at this point, but there’s no chance that he’s getting over this easily. Unless he finds out that he isn’t moving back to America, then Yoongi has plans to stay miserable.

“Uh… okay. Wanna play video games to forget about it?”

Yoongi checks the time on Namjoon’s alarm clock, as if he has something else to do. “Sure,” he says, “that sounds fun.”

++

In hindsight, Yoongi should have known that having a project with Jungkook wouldn’t work out very well. They’ve been working in Jungkook’s bedroom for about an hour, mostly in silence, and all Yoongi has done is stare at his side profile like the so-far-gone idiot he is.

He didn’t always have these strange romantic feelings for Jungkook, or at least he didn’t realize he felt this way until recently. It probably started five years ago, when Yoongi first moved, and he realized he had a small crush on Jungkook. He was cute and smart—when you’re ten, that’s the standard.

Nothing has changed since then. Yoongi hasn’t even thought about finding other boys cute, because he’s always looking at Jungkook. He has these eyes that you just kind of get lost in, full of stars and wonder. When he talks about something he loves, like watching anime or listening to music, they just light up. Like the whole universe is nestled in them.

Jungkook’s side profile is nice to look at. He’s always had a strong nose, the largest feature on his face despite what Yoongi said about his eyes, and there’s a distinct curve to his lips. Lately he’s been growing his bangs out more, so it hangs in front of his face, not quite long enough to hide the moles on the round of his cheeks.

It’s impossibly cute. Yoongi could stare for hours.

“Did you do your part already?” Jungkook asks, when he realizes that Yoongi has been staring. Yoongi averts his eyes and scratches the back of his neck with his pencil, looking at the pieces of their project on the floor between them. “Hyung, don’t tell me you’ve just been zoning out.”

“You should know everything about zoning out,” Yoongi replies, tossing his notebook from his lap to the floor. He spent time apart from Jungkook at school today to work on his part so he wouldn’t have to do anything later. There was a little bit left that he managed to finish before he got caught up staring. “I finished a while ago.”

Jungkook pulls the notebook closer, pouting as he looks over the contents. “Fine. You earned your right to zone out,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. His eyes glance over the spread of poster board and various art materials, then land on Yoongi’s face. “I’m tired now and my hand hurts.”

“Take a break,” Yoongi responds, shoving his notebook back into his bag. Considering how Jungkook has been working nonstop, they don’t have much left to do other than assemble the poster. “It’s late now, too. You don’t need to finish it tonight, you know. There’s still this weekend.”

“Yeah, but then I don’t have to stress about it over the weekend.”

Fair point. That’s the same logic Yoongi applied today when he did his work before staring at Jungkook.

“Still. Let’s go eat something,” Yoongi says, helping himself to his feet, sticking his hand out for Jungkook to do the same. “Come on, we can just go to the convenience store really quick.”

Jungkook looks at their project, somewhere between conflicted and forlorn, then grasps Yoongi’s hand to pull himself up. “Fine, but you owe me banana milk,” he says, picking up his jacket from over the back of his desk chair. Yoongi just nods and shuffles towards the door, trying to keep his racing heart under control. “Oh! And you have to get me one of those triangle kimbaps.”

“If you insist,” Yoongi replies, glancing at Jungkook’s wide smile over his shoulder.

Jungkook’s parents still aren’t home, so the two of them only put on their shoes and get going in silence. The night air is cool against Yoongi’s burning skin, palms hot and sweaty, the back of his shirt sticking to his skin. Jungkook is humming as he walks, his fingers dancing along the low branches of trees they pass.

It’s a peaceful moment, and Yoongi hates that his brain just decides to ruin it with unwelcome thoughts.

All he can think about is that two days ago, his parents sat him and Honggi down to confirm that they really are moving back to America. As soon as summer break begins next week, they’ll be boarding a plane back to California. Yoongi isn’t really handling the news well. He’s cried three different times since he found out.

That’s not really his fault, though. If he was in control of whether he was leaving or not, then they would stay. Yoongi already tried convincing his parents to let him stay with his aunt on the other side of the hill, but that option proved to be pointless. His parents are dead set on moving back to California as a complete family.

So, as annoying as it is, Yoongi is moving back to America. And there’s pretty much nothing he can do about it other than sulk and cry.

Jungkook bumps his elbow into Yoongi’s arm. “You’ve been quiet lately, hyung,” he comments, smiling softly. This certain smile that brings out the light in his eyes. Sometimes Yoongi likes to think that Jungkook made that smile just for him, but that’s just the part of him that’s hopelessly in love. “Is… everything okay?”

“I’ll tell you once you get your milk and kimbap,” Yoongi replies, forcing a smile onto his face. Jungkook just nods and goes back to humming a sweet tune, almost like a child’s lullaby.

When they reach the convenience store, Yoongi buys Jungkook banana milk and two triangle kimbaps. A week or two after Yoongi moved here, Jungkook asked to borrow some money to buy milk. After the third time, Yoongi told Jungkook that if he just asks, he’d always buy it. Since then, he’s never gone back on his word about that.

Jungkook sits at the table outside the store, legs criss-crossed on top of the bench as he digs into his kimbap. Yoongi hovers, gripping the bottle of soda he bought on a whim, unsure of where to begin. If he actually sits down, then he has to tell Jungkook the truth. He really does not want to do that, even though it’s inevitable.

“God, you’re acting so weird,” Jungkook says around a mouthful of kimbap, taking Yoongi’s wrist to pull him down to the bench. He wipes his mouth with his hand, tilting his head to the side, studying Yoongi with this analytical gaze. Yoongi feels himself shrink under it. “What is it?”

Yoongi turns his head down to the bottle of soda, wipes the condensation off the side. “I…” he starts, then stops with a huff. No matter how nerve-wracking this is, Yoongi knows he will have to say it eventually. He just needs to work up the courage. “I need to tell you something, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook sets down what’s left of his kimbap, covering one of Yoongi’s hands with his own. “You don’t have to be afraid of talking to me,” he whispers quietly, which is probably the kindest thing Yoongi has ever heard from a person. No one has ever been this kind to him. No one ever treats him this gently. “Hyung, it’s okay.”

“I—I’m just—” Yoongi wipes his eyes when they water a little. Isn’t that pathetic? Getting emotional just talking about it. He didn’t get this worked up when he told Namjoon he’s leaving yesterday. “Ugh. I don’t know why saying it is so hard.”

“You can take your time,” Jungkook says, smiling in the same soft, careful way he was earlier. Yoongi hates his heart for getting tangled up in him. This would be so much easier if he didn’t have feelings for Jungkook.

Yoongi takes a couple of minutes to control his uneven breathing. Even once he steadies it, his heart continues to race and his hands are so clammy that he has to pull them away from Jungkook’s. His eyes are blurry with tears, but he’s not going to cry in front of Jungkook, even if he’s the last person to judge.

“I’m moving,” Yoongi finally blurts, when the air has become too still and suffocating. He wipes away the single tear that falls from his eye, clenching his hands in his lap, unopened soda bottle resting between his thighs. “I’m moving away. We’re moving back to California.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a second, then two. “When?” he asks, tone drained of any reassurance it held before.

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. “Next week,” he whispers. “We’re leaving as soon as summer break starts.”

“What? That soon?”

“I know.”

For the corner of his eye, Yoongi watches Jungkook shove the last of his kimbap into his mouth, chewing angrily. He doesn’t feel much better, even after telling Jungkook that he’s leaving. His heart feels trapped, caught on the bones of his ribcage, almost like it’s tearing him open from the inside. This wasn’t how Yoongi thought he would feel about this.

“This sucks,” Jungkook says, once he finishes eating. “You’re leaving in a week?”

“It sucks,” Yoongi agrees, lifting his head to finally look at Jungkook. That bright look in his eyes has faded into a dim fire, a flickering helpless ember. “But… yeah. I thought you should know. So you don’t come back from summer break and I’m just gone.”

Jungkook scowls and crosses his arms, lowering his head. Yoongi just keeps quiet to let him process it; everyone knows that Yoongi needs to do that too. He’s been spending most of his time avoiding his parents and all the boxes suddenly piling up inside their house. Mom said a moving truck is supposed to come this weekend and take most of their belongings to ship to their house in California.

They stay quiet for longer than Yoongi anticipated, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s quite the opposite from how he usually spends time with Jungkook, where he’s talking Yoongi’s ear off until he shuts up on his own. Half the time, Yoongi’s just staring at his bright eyes and his enthusiastic smile, rather than paying attention to anything he’s actually saying.

This time, though, Yoongi faces the ground beneath his feet. All the cracks in the concrete, the dirt between the ridges, the daisies poking through. Looking at them incites a sliver of hope in Yoongi, that maybe California holds something for him that he never would have expected. But how can that be worth an ounce of what he has now in Korea?

“You should sleep over,” Jungkook finally says, sitting up straight. “If you only have one week left, then you should stay the night.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, hesitating to accept the offer. The only person’s house he usually sleeps over at is Namjoon’s, so this is completely different. He’s not sure that Mom will let him, especially so close to moving. “What if your parents say no?”

Jungkook shrugs. “It should be fine,” he replies, climbing off the bench. He extends his hand for Yoongi, and smiles again—this time, the light has returned to the corner of his eyes. Somehow, that alone eases that pain in Yoongi’s chest. “Come on, hyung. We can have fun, just—forget about the project, I doubt you’ll even need it.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi mutters with an eye roll, taking his hand to pull himself up. “You do know you will probably need the project, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says, placing both hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. He looks Yoongi in the eyes for a moment; with his signature doe eyes and crooked grin. “You are going to sleep over. And we will have fun.”

Yoongi just goes with it.

When they get back to Jungkook’s house, Yoongi calls Mom to let her know that he’s staying the night. Luckily she doesn’t put up much of a fight, and assures him that he can enjoy himself over his last weekend in Korea. It pains Yoongi just to hear those words coming from her mouth because it shakes him into reality. He’s seriously moving away.

But his mind is taken away from that, soon enough. He and Jungkook gather snacks from the pantry and settle on the floor of Jungkook’s bedroom, with his computer to watch movies for the next few hours. Jungkook throws popcorn at Yoongi’s nose; Yoongi tries not to hyperfixate on Jungkook’s shoulder constantly pressed against him.

Halfway through the second movie, Jungkook tilts his head against the wall and asks, “You think we’ll stay in touch?”

Yoongi tucks his knees close to his chest, pondering his answer. Of course he hopes that they’ll stay close, but it’s unclear right now whether it’ll be true. He has no idea what kind of life is waiting for him in California; the school, the people, the extracurriculars. All these unknown factors. All these questions that Yoongi doesn’t have answers to.

“I want to,” Yoongi answers, turning his head to face Jungkook. “Will you text me every day?”

“I can try.” Jungkook shrugs, then fiddles with the edge of the blanket over his lap. In this low light, Yoongi can just barely see the slight blush on his cheeks. “You won’t forget about me, right?”

Yoongi frowns just at the thought. No matter what happens, he doubts he could ever forget about Jungkook.

“Um, no. Never.” Yoongi pats Jungkook’s shoulder, trying to minimize the awkwardness seeping out of him. “Let’s keep watching.”

At the end of the movie, Jungkook has fallen asleep with his head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder, snoring with his mouth slightly parted. Yoongi is afraid of shifting an inch, not even to shut the computer screen as the credits roll at the end.

The fact that he’s going to leave this life behind weighs on his shoulders. All Yoongi has tried to do here is make himself feel as comfortable as he did before he moved, and now that he finally achieved that, he has to start over again.

Maybe it’s stupid to think that way, but Yoongi never thought he would have to go through the moving process a second time. He thought that he would simply continue growing up in Korea, go to university here, then find a job. Settle down, make friends, maybe have a family. He never really thought hard about the specifics of his future, but now the option isn’t even there.

Future Yoongi will probably miss Korea like nothing before, but the chances of him moving back without his parents are slim. What would he come for? There’s nothing here, not other than his friends, and they might just abandon him when he leaves. Yoongi doesn’t know what will happen.

For the next hour, Yoongi drifts in and out of sleep with his head against the wall, hand laying precariously on top of Jungkook’s. Somehow, he knows that even while asleep that he isn’t quite ready to let go of Jungkook yet.

++

As cheesy as it sounds, Yoongi sits down the night before he leaves to try and get his feelings out through words.

It was Mom’s idea. She told him that before he leaves, he should tell his friends how much they mean to him, and that they’ve done a lot for him the past five years. Yoongi didn’t really react to her, because he’s still upset about moving, but he decided to try it after some consideration. It wasn’t a half-bad idea.

The words come out wonky and overly-emotional on the first paper. Things like I’m going to miss you so much and I’m so happy you’re my best friend and I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Words that Yoongi would never imagine uttering to any of his friends, and yet they’re appearing on paper before him.

Safe to say, that first paper goes in the trash and gets rewritten.

The second trial goes better. Yoongi has graduated to things like, I think you’re a great friend and I hope we can stay in touch and You better not forget about me. Which is better, but not exactly what Yoongi is searching for. He needs something with less emotions—something more straightforward.

The third time’s the charm.

Yoongi writes a short letter to Namjoon first. Basically, all he says is that Namjoon is a good best friend and that they should call each other during summer break. He leaves his Skype username at the bottom, which they haven’t really needed from each other living three streets down, but hopefully Namjoon will put it to good use.

The only other person who Yoongi feels close enough to write to is Jungkook. Sure, he has other friends and classmates, but he isn’t going to pretend that they mean anything to him. They aren’t his best friend, Namjoon, and they aren’t the guy he likes, Jungkook. Both of them are special, and deserve their own letters.

So, Jungkook’s letter starts off with way too many emotions.

At first, Yoongi ends up writing something along the lines of I think I’m in love with you and I’m not ready to leave, which is weird and not at all what he was trying to say. Professing his love through a letter is the last thing that he should do. That letter goes into the trash, which has gathered quite the pile while Yoongi has been trying to write these.

The second letter is more like the one he wrote for Namjoon’s. It’s a little too blunt, but Yoongi would prefer that over pouring all his ugly, raw emotions onto a page for Jungkook to read. Imagine how embarrassing it would be to share that with Jungkook.

To Jungkook.

Hi Jungkook-ah. I’m writing this because I’m leaving soon, so I want you to know something. I really like you. I know I’m moving away, but you should know that. I like you a lot. Also, please call me often.

From Yoongi.

As soon as Yoongi finishes writing it, the ache in his chest begins to ease. Of course, he’s still hurting over the fact that he has to say goodbye in the first place, but this makes everything easier. Rather than saying it with his mouth, to their faces, he can just give them these notes tomorrow and hope it’s enough.

He slips off his desk chair, tip-toeing over to his parents’ bedroom. They’re both asleep when Yoongi peeks inside, but after rummaging through some boxes labeled for Dad’s desk, he finds a couple of envelopes to put the letters in. They’re the perfect size, too.

“What’re you doing?” Yoongi asks, when he spots Honggi leaning over his desk, holding something in his hand. It takes a couple of seconds for him to realize that it’s the note he just wrote for Jungkook. “Don’t look at that!”

“Who is this for?” Honggi asks, lifting it in the air as Yoongi tries to grab it back. Annoyingly enough, he’s the tallest in the family, with an extra two inches on Yoongi, so it’s effectively beyond reach. “Jung… Jungkook? Man, you gotta work on your Korean handwriting, it sucks.”

“I know—just, stop, it’s for a friend,” Yoongi snaps back, grabbing Honggi’s hoodie sleeve to pull his arm down long enough to snatch the letters back. He shoves them into the envelopes he picked up earlier, then glares at Honggi still loitering in the middle of the room. “Why can’t you just mind your business?”

Honggi lifts his eyebrows. “I was,” he says, and picks up the glass of water on Yoongi’s desk. That glass wasn’t there before. “You just left the door open, and I thought you were in here, so…”

“How?” Yoongi gestures widely from where he’s standing in the doorway, with a wide view of his bedroom. “You can literally see everything from here.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I don’t care, hyung. Just—just go away.” Yoongi picks up his backpack from the floor, tucking away the rage alongside the envelopes. He glances up when Honggi doesn’t move from his spot, looking around at the bare walls, whistling like the weirdo he is. “Can you just get out?”

Honggi shrugs. “I can,” he says, lifting his lips in a smirk. As soon as he does, Yoongi realizes something: he’s acting irritating on purpose.

Yoongi grabs the nearest item—a pen from his desk, unsurprisingly—and chucks it in Honggi’s direction. “Get out,” he repeats, trying to sound firm in spite of his annoyingly unsteady voice. “Or I’m gonna wake up Dad.”

“Jesus, you’re aggressive for no reason,” Honggi replies with a shake of his head, leaving the room with his hands raised in surrender.

Yoongi slams the door shut once he’s gone. Good riddance, that’s for sure.

He’s always had an odd relationship with Honggi. They were never close when Yoongi was younger; something in Honggi’s attitude that always held him on a higher pedestal, always made him the more worthy one in their parents’ eyes. It never truly bothered Yoongi until he reached his teenage years, and at that point, Honggi was already halfway done with high school.

Honggi is the exemplary child—the one their parents like to brag about. How he excelled in his grades, and took all these intense classes on the side of his schooling, and even did sports. Yoongi isn’t that great in school, but he still takes advanced piano lessons outside of school and plays ball in the park. What makes them so different?

Yoongi always figured that Honggi just didn’t care about him. Most times they talked, they only argued, especially once they moved from America. Honggi was born here, in this city, rather than in California like Yoongi. He didn’t seem as phased as Yoongi when he found out they were moving back. It wouldn’t matter to him, anyway. He’ll go off to university in a few months, leaving Yoongi behind in a house with just their parents.

Which sounds like a nightmare, now that Yoongi is thinking more deeply about things. Honggi has been a buffer between Yoongi and their parents since forever, but now all their attention is going to be on him. Yoongi didn’t sign up for that. He wants to stay very far from his parents’ critical gaze. They always have so many expectations for him, and Yoongi has no inclination to live up to them.

On the other hand, Honggi has done pretty much everything they ask of him. He applied to all the right schools, took all the right classes—he even worked his first part-time job the last few months, just because they said it’d be a good opportunity. Honggi outshines Yoongi, tenfold. Without that light, how will Yoongi handle being alone?

Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the thoughts, and double checks that he safely put away the letters for Namjoon and Jungkook. The last thing he needs the day before he gets on a flight to California is to overthink what home life will be like without Honggi around.

He crawls into bed, curling up underneath the last blanket he kept, and forces himself to sleep. If he doesn’t, then tomorrow will just be miserable.

In the rush of last minute packing the next morning, Yoongi slips away long enough to deliver his letters to both Namjoon and Jungkook in the park. He told them to meet him there, since it’s closer to him, and he wouldn’t have to go across town just to give Jungkook a stupid letter.

“Wait until I’m not here,” he tells them, and they both crowd him into one last hug before he goes home.

When Yoongi gets back home, Dad has gone to the store with Honggi, and Mom is in the living room area with the last few boxes and their suitcases scattered across the room.

“Where’d you run off to?” Mom asks, pinning her hair out of her face, an open box in front of her. “I was looking for you. I need your help getting the last of these boxes out to the moving truck.”

Yoongi pushes up his sleeves. “Okay,” he mumbles, and doesn’t answer her question. She doesn’t need to know that he ended up taking her advice on how to get his feelings out to his friends.

He works alongside Mom in silence, hands trembling as he carries stacks of boxes into the moving truck parked outside their house. Yoongi’s mind is stuck on whether or not Jungkook has read his letter yet, or if he’s going to reciprocate. It would suck if he didn’t and then they wouldn’t stay in contact anymore—it’s one of the things Yoongi is looking forward to.

Dad and Honggi come back from the store with last-minute snacks for the airplane, and they arrange their bags so everyone has something to eat in case they’re hungry. Yoongi takes one last look at his bedroom and tries not to cry at how empty—how bare it looks.

He’s not really the sentimental type, but he whispers a soft goodbye before he shuts the door.

“Ready to go?” Dad asks, shouldering his backpack, rolling his carry-on forward. Yoongi adjusts his backpack on his shoulders and gives a curt nod. As ready as he can ever be.

Yoongi steps outside to the taxi taking them to the airport, and physically flinches when he spots Jungkook running towards them from the top of the hill.

“Wait!” Jungkook is shouting, at least that’s what Yoongi thinks he’s saying through the heavy breaths coming out of his mouth as he gets closer. “Hyung, don’t go yet!”

He read the letter, is the first thing that comes to Yoongi’s mind, eyes wide on Jungkook when he stops running, bending in half to catch his breath.

“Can I—can I talk to you?” Jungkook asks, pointing a few feet away, around the corner from the house. Yoongi glances back at his parents, unsure of what to say. On one hand, he wants to know what Jungkook has to say. On the other hand, they have a flight to catch. “Please, I just wanna borrow Yoongi-hyung for five minutes.”

Dad purses his lips and gestures Yoongi away. “Go and come back. Five minutes,” he says, then slides off his glasses with a sigh.

Yoongi places his backpack on the carseat and trails after Jungkook, palms growing sweaty in an instant. Once they’re hidden from Yoongi’s parents, Jungkook steps close—really close, hands pressing flat against Yoongi’s palms. He blinks up at Yoongi; all innocent and bright-eyed, possibly one of the most mesmerizing things Yoongi has seen in the world.

“I—I read it,” Jungkook whispers, using one hand to take the letter out of his shorts’ pocket, showing it to Yoongi. It’s been scrunched up and wrinkled, but it’s there in all its glory. Yoongi’s stupid little confession letter. “Do you… really mean that? You like me?”

Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat. He never thought this moment would ever happen in person, if at all. “Yeah, I mean it,” he says, shifting his fingers to slide between Jungkook’s. They’re holding hands, god, Yoongi truly never imagined that this would happen. “I hope it’s not weird or anything.”

“It’s not,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. He regards Yoongi with such admiration sometimes. “I, um, I like you… too.”

“What?” Yoongi stops, even though he suspected he knew where this was going. “You do?”

Jungkook nods, rose coloring the apples of his cheeks, a faint smile on his lips. “I do,” he mumbles, and weakly punches Yoongi’s arm. The spot tingles with the impact, a shiver sparking from it. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier, hyung? You’re… leaving now.”

Yoongi never thought that Jungkook would reciprocate, that’s why. He always figured that Jungkook just viewed him as a close friend—but, now what is he supposed to do? Jungkook likes him back, but Yoongi is quite literally leaving right now.

“I’m sorry. I was just scared,” Yoongi answers, using one hand to wipe at his watery eyes. This fucking sucks. “I wanted to tell you before I left, because you deserve to know the truth.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whines, pulling his hand out of Yoongi’s, pushing back the hair in front of his face. He’s pouting, a twinkle of vulnerability in his eyes, that pink on his cheeks lingering. “I don’t want to—we can’t just—”

“Hey.” Yoongi pokes Jungkook in the arm, an idea forming in his mind. It isn’t the brightest one he’s ever had, but it’s an idea nonetheless. Now that they know how they truly feel about each other, wouldn’t it be a waste not to try? Even if Yoongi is leaving, he doesn’t want to let go of Jungkook. “Wouldn’t you want to try, at least?”

Jungkook’s troubled frown relaxes. “Try?” he asks, like such a concept is foreign to him. Yoongi nods; it seems like the only plausible alternative to letting each other go. “You really think we can manage that?”

Yoongi sniffles. “Well,” he murmurs, unsure of whether it’s pointless to put blind faith into a relationship that might not even work out. But this is Jungkook. This is someone that Yoongi has spent ages longing for, just to be seen as more than a friend. Now that they’re there, it doesn’t seem impossible anymore. “We won’t know unless we try, right? Just—I gave you my Skype, okay? Call me.”

“Okay…” Jungkook trails off, lowering his head as his frown returns. “Hyung—”

“Listen to me,” Yoongi interrupts, taking Jungkook’s wrist, unfolding the pinky finger tucked into his fist. He hooks his own pinky around Jungkook’s and pushes their thumbs together. “Promise me that you’ll try, okay?”

Something about those words smooths out Jungkook’s eyebrows again. He nods slowly, squeezes the life out of Yoongi’s pinky before letting go. Yoongi gives Jungkook one last look before returning to the taxi, with his parents. He doesn’t know when he’s going to see Jungkook next, but he’s determined to never lose him.

It isn’t until they’re on the plane to California that something in Yoongi just shatters. He locks himself in the airplane bathroom and cries his eyes out, until the skin around them is red and puffy. That ache in his chest that he thought he got rid of through the letters has returned, worming its way between the bones of his ribs, trapping his heart in place.

Yoongi doesn’t know what’s going to happen. But for the sake of him and Jungkook, he prays that it’ll be something good.

++

Returning to California is even more surreal than Yoongi expected it to be.

The drive from the airport back to the house is strangely nostalgic, yet unfamiliar all the same. All the mountains in the distance are taller than Yoongi remembers, surrounding him from all sides. The summer sun beats down through the car window, golden light dancing over his hands and Honggi’s face. According to Dad, this car is just a rental until he can buy one from a dealership.

Yoongi feels awkward, returning to his old bedroom, filled with the boxes of his belongings from Korea. The walls are blue—that’s definitely going to change—and there’s little indents in the wall from the few times that Honggi chucked his Game Boy at it. It’s all a little strange being back, overall. He hates being so far from everything he came to know in the last five years.

Settling in is easy enough, at least physically. After forcing himself to stay awake twenty-four hours straight a few times, Yoongi manages to get over the sixteen-hour jet lag. Weirdly enough, though, he misses being able to text Jungkook and Namjoon when he’s tossing and turning at three a.m., wide awake in the dead of night.

Now, Yoongi only hears from Jungkook and Namjoon from the afternoon onwards, and even then, half of the time, they don’t manage to message consistently. Yoongi has so much free time on his hands, but it seems like they’re occupied with other plans in their daytime. By the time they’re home for the evening, Yoongi is already fast asleep.

Mom keeps saying to reach out to his old friends, but Yoongi doesn’t even know how he would do that. Half the kids he used to go to school with probably wouldn’t remember him—he moved away a whole five years ago. They’ve all gone through puberty since, so why would they remember him? Yoongi doubts anyone looks the same.

The entire summer is spent like that. Yoongi lazes around during the mornings, unpacks, redecorates—gets comfortable in this house again. He goes out once in a while, only to spend an hour at the park, or get a snack from the gas station around the corner from his house. Other than that, Yoongi subjects himself to his parents’ lectures and Honggi’s loud, annoying gamer voice.

The night before the first day of school, Yoongi convinces himself to stay awake long enough to video call Jungkook. With the oddities of the time difference, they haven’t had the chance to. And Yoongi is too nervous for tomorrow, so his option to sleep is pretty much nonexistent anyway.

He manages to call Jungkook at the perfect time, right after he’s eaten dinner.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, squinting into his brand new laptop perched on his nightstand, plugged in so it’s ready for school tomorrow.

Jungkook looks at Yoongi with a crooked smile, head tilted to the side—somehow, he’s grown so much just in the past summer. He’s settled into this slightly more tan complexion, bangs cut into a fringe, nearly blocking out one of his eyes. As he approaches fourteen, he’s begun to fit in with their class more and more, despite the fact that he’s a year younger than everyone.

“Hi hyung,” Jungkook says, pushing the fridge out of his face, exposing his pretty eyes. Yoongi involuntarily smiles at the sight of them; he truly missed seeing Jungkook so much. It wasn’t quite the same to just text him all summer. They exchanged a few pictures, but it wasn’t much. “How’s it going? What time is it there?”

Yoongi glances at the time in the corner of the screen. “Three a.m. I couldn’t fall asleep,” he says, cushioning his head on his palm. Jungkook’s a bit blurry without his glasses on, but he plans to at least attempt some rest before his first day of American high school, so he opts to keep them off. “You probably had school today, right?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook responds, spinning in his chair, stopping once he’s facing Yoongi again. “It’s been really weird without you. Namjoon-hyung sits next to me now, though. I think his brain is influencing mine because my grades are improving? Not sure if that makes a difference.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes. He’s trying to be teasing, but his voice sounds so groggy and tired, that it just comes across as slightly harsh. Jungkook scrunches up his nose and throws his head back in a laugh; somehow, the intention still reached him. “Because, if you are, then I fully have the right to say it was your brain that had a negative influence on me.”

“Hyung!”

Yoongi grins, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “It’s definitely a you problem, Jungkook-ah,” he says, winking while Jungkook groans, arm thrown across his forehead. He feels so… awkward. He’s not sure what to ask Jungkook about. Not sure if all the mushy, sentimental things that are coming up to his half-awake mind are worth saying. “Miss you.”

Jungkook’s face reddens under the harsh yellow desk lamp lighting. “Miss you too, hyung,” he huffs, scratching behind his neck. He’s quiet for a second, the moment consuming Yoongi with worry. “Sucks that I finally got a boyfriend, and then he moves across the world.”

“I know,” Yoongi responds, shaking his head in mock disappointment. The only way he knows how to deal with this is horrible, dry humor. Not the best way to cope, but it’s better than throwing himself into what other kids his age do. “What an awful dude. You should fly out to see him, bet that’d make him happy.”

“I wish.” Jungkook laughs, but then it dies out again. Yoongi searches his brain for something to say, but comes out empty. This never happened before. When they were living the same life, with the same people, in all the same classes—they always had something to talk about. “So… are you, like, nervous for your first day?”

For some reason, Yoongi’s heart does a flip at the fact that Jungkook remembered that tomorrow is his first day of school.

“Yeah, I mean…” Yoongi sighs loudly, flopping back onto his mattress, head resting on the edge of his pillow. He can see Jungkook reclining his desk chair in the corner of his eye. “I’m gonna be with all the same people I was with before. Probably a bunch of new people too, which will suck. But what’s gonna happen, undoubtedly, is that none of them will remember me.”

“I’m sure they will…” Jungkook trails off, a meek attempt at comfort. He offers a smile, but it doesn’t do much to soothe Yoongi’s worries. He supposes that it’s the effort that counts. “You’re likable, hyung. You just need to open up a bit, that’s all.”

Yoongi presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Yeah…” he agrees, even though he has no idea how to do that. “You’re pretty good at that. You have any advice for me?”

Jungkook leans his elbow on his desk, hands resting underneath his chin. “Smile more,” he says, drumming his fingers against his cheeks. Yoongi turns his head to look at him properly, watching him avert his eyes. That’s strange—Jungkook’s not the shy one. “You have a nice smile, or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs, eyeing the way Jungkook’s cheeks flare with color.

“You should sleep,” Jungkook replies, clearing his throat—very unsubtly avoiding the screen with his eyes. Yoongi wonders what’s going on inside his head. “It’s late. What time does class start?”

Yoongi clicks off Skype to check his school’s bell schedule. “Eight,” he replies, returning to Jungkook and his scrunched up nose. “I know. I… guess I should try sleeping now.”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t give that same feeling it does when Yoongi is near him. All he can think about, as he forces a sleepy smile in return, is that he misses Jungkook so much.

“Bye hyung. Sleep well,” Jungkook says, and gives one final wave before he ends their call.

Yoongi falls asleep like that—with his body close to the edge of his bed, laptop screen left open, and an unwelcome ache of longing in his chest. The next morning, Mom wakes him up quarter to seven, bribing him out of bed with a promise of breakfast.

So Yoongi rolls out of bed like a zombie, and makes it to the bathroom for a quick shower. He gets dressed in something light and breathable, just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt he likes a little more than others. Some socks he stole from Honggi’s drawer, and a pair of new sneakers Dad bought to convince him that going to school would be worth it.

It’s only seven-fifteen by the time Yoongi makes it downstairs to the kitchen, so he takes his time with breakfast, doing his best not to stuff his mouth considering all the nerves in his body. The last thing he needs is to get to school and throw everything back up, or something equally as horrifying.

“Mom,” Yoongi says, when he notices her preparing him lunch like she used to in Korea. “You know that I can’t take that, right?”

“What?” Mom asks, snapping one of the plastic boxes shut with a glance over her shoulder. She genuinely seems like she has no idea what Yoongi is talking about.

Yoongi sighs. He’s not a fan of having to do this, but he’d rather not get made fun of on his first day of school here. If no one remembers him, then that’s probably good—he can make a new first impression, and it’s going to be even better than before.

“I can’t take it,” Yoongi repeats, pushing the packed lunch away from him. It’s rude, he knows, but they’ll pick on him. They always did before. “This is America, Mom. I can’t take this to school. I’ll just ask Dad for some money and I’ll buy something.”

Mom purses her lips, clearly offended. “Fine,” she responds curtly, practically slamming the box down on the counter. Yoongi flinches at the noise, watching her unpack the containers. He didn’t mean to upset her. “Go, before I get mad at you. You don’t want to be late.”

“I still have—”

“Yoongi-yah. Do not argue.”

Yoongi turns his back and rolls his eyes, snatching his bag from one of the kitchen table chairs on his way out. He wades through the leftover boxes outside Mom and Dad’s study, kicking aside the more empty ones. He doesn’t get the point of keeping them when they’re empty, but they always throw a fit when he tries to collapse them.

Dad is leaning over his desk, glasses on, eyes on his monitor. He’s dressed for work; the project must be for someone important if he’s wearing his suit today. When they were in Korea, he could get by at work with a nice shirt and some khakis. Clearly there’s someone Dad needs to impress.

“Can I get some money for lunch?” Yoongi asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sure,” Dad replies, stepping back from his desk, digging into his pocket for his wallet. He holds out a ten dollar bill. “Is this enough?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Sure,” he responds, accepting the money. He tucks it into his own wallet, then places it in his backpack. “Uh… Also, I might’ve made Mom mad. So, sorry in advance.” Dad snaps his head back up, but Yoongi is already turning on his heel to leave. “Have a good day at work!”

The first half of Yoongi’s day is underwhelming, to say the least. School in Korea was about ten times more rigorous and competitive than the classes he’s enrolled in—ones he didn’t even get to pick—and no one so far has recognized him. Well, he hasn’t really recognized anyone either.

Until, fifth period. Physics. Not Yoongi’s strongest suit subject-wise, but he can probably message Namjoon any time he needs help. The guy is a walking encyclopedia.

Anyway, physics class has Hoseok Jung in it. He’s someone Yoongi grew up knowing when he first lived here, at least in the sense that they hung out together because their parents knew each other. Out of everyone he’s seen so far, Hoseok’s the only one who kind of frowns in recognition when they meet eyes.

Yoongi forces himself to take a few steps forward and sit at the same table as him. “Surprised?” he asks, feeling awkward and clunky about speaking English. He’s done minimal speaking in English since moving, and he can’t say he enjoys it now. For some reason, Korean was always the easier language. Even if his handwriting sucks.

“Um, yeah. That’s an understatement,” Hoseok replies, masking his breathless shock with a wide smile. He’s a lot bigger than Yoongi remembers him, which isn’t surprising. But his arms. Yoongi has to remind himself that he has a boyfriend in order to tear his eyes away. “You’re… in America again?”

“Yeah, for now,” Yoongi responds, because who fucking knows when his parents will uproot him again. It could be in two months for all he knows. “Do you know where I can buy lunch, by the way?”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t been shown around campus yet?” he asks, looking away for a moment to follow the path of the teacher making her rounds to every table. Yoongi shakes his head; he opted out of a tour on orientation day out of embarrassment. Everyone else was a freshman. “I can show you. Let me see your schedule, by the way.”

Yoongi frowns, digging through his cluttered backpack for his schedule, putting it on the table. He smooths out the wrinkles, pushing it across the tabletop for Hoseok to see. “I don’t really know anyone in my other classes,” Yoongi says while Hoseok looks over it, eyes lighting up at the end. “Do… we have any other classes together?”

“Yeah, P.E. I have it after lunch too. Same teacher,” Hoseok replies, pushing the schedule back across.

Yoongi peers at his schedule. He barely registered that P.E. was a class he still had to take. “Cool,” he whispers, glancing up when the teacher approaches the table.

The class period passes in a blur like the rest of his day has. The teacher, Miss Jackman or something, goes through the syllabus for the class and assigns one of those “get to know me” essays to do by Friday. Yoongi will probably write the same essay for all his classes and adjust it according to the subject.

At the end of the period, when the bell rings for lunch, Yoongi caves into the urge to check his phone. It’s not fancy, but it’s a smartphone that connects to some data plan his parents put his American phone number on, so he can check his Skype messages to see if Jungkook said anything. Which, he did.

jkseagull0: hyung have a good day :)

jkseagull0: you’ll do well, i know it. fighting!

It’s cute. Yoongi just wishes he could have brought Jungkook with him or something. That would’ve made everything ten times easier.

“Hey, do you want to get lunch?” Hoseok asks, once they’re outside of the classroom, into the flow of students heading for the main quad. Yoongi pockets his phone, looking up with wide eyes—he’s not sure if using it breaks any school rules. “You good?”

“Um, yeah.” Yoongi adjusts his bag and nods, hoping that his face isn’t actually as red as he thinks it is. “I’m fine. Lunch is good.”

Hoseok smiles, large and wide—a fuzzy feeling erupts in Yoongi’s chest, spreading down to his ribs. “You can sit with me and my friends. They’re kind of annoying, but… it’s fine,” he says, throwing his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder to steer him into the direction of the school gates. He’s got an inch or two on Yoongi. “I hope you like fast food.”

“It’ll suffice,” Yoongi says under his breath, glancing up. He manages a small smile to finally return the grin that still hasn’t wavered from Hoseok’s lips.

Over the span of lunch, Yoongi basically meets the entire lacrosse team because apparently, that’s the sport that Hoseok plays. He gets invited to one back-to-school party on the weekend, but he has plans to stay away from those. Partying with a bunch of white guys can’t mean anything good for Yoongi. But he gets Hoseok’s phone number, so that’ll help him.

The rest of the day is mellow. Hoseok is the chatty type; he kind of reminds Yoongi of Jungkook in that way, but they seem complete opposites too. Jungkook is way more nerdy than Hoseok comes off to be; Hoseok is more into sports and hip-hop. Jungkook likes anime and k-pop artists.

Yoongi goes home after his final class feeling more confident about what his time in America is going to be like. Hoseok has proved himself, in the last two hours, that he still remembers Yoongi and countless things about him. They talked all about growing up in each other’s houses, their parents, everything that happened in the five years they spent apart.

Basically, Yoongi found a friend in Hoseok. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t entirely wrong. As long as Yoongi has even one friend, then he can survive this. There’s a light shining somewhere in this consuming darkness.

++

“Who are you texting every time I see you?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from Yoongi at a lunch table.

Yoongi shrugs, putting down his phone. He’s not going to lie and say he isn’t into guys, or that he doesn’t have a boyfriend—regardless of the fact that Jungkook lives across the world—so he just tells the truth. “My boyfriend’s birthday is tomorrow,” he explains, trying to be off-handed about it. “I’m trying to convince one of my friends to buy him a gift on my behalf.”

Hoseok pauses for a second. “Did I hear you right?” he asks, shrugging off his bag to place on top of the table. Yoongi just nods his head, keeping it nonchalant, no matter how freaked out he feels. What if Hoseok is, like, wildly homophobic? “You have a boyfriend?”

“Um,” Yoongi mumbles, then nods again. “Yeah, I do. Problem?”

“No, I’m just… surprised? Who is he?”

Yoongi blushes, just at the thought of telling someone who Jungkook is. The only other person who really knows that he and Jungkook are dating is Namjoon, who was supportive in the strangest way. Basically affirmed Yoongi in his feelings for Jungkook by coming out to him as pansexual, so there’s something.

“Someone I went to school with in Korea. His name is Jungkook,” Yoongi explains, fiddling with the wrapper of his sandwich he bought from the cafeteria.

The food isn’t half as bad as he thought it was, so he convinced Dad to just put money in the school account to pay for it. Mom still isn’t very pleased about Yoongi not bringing Korean food to school for lunch, but she isn’t pushing him on it.

Hoseok takes a bite of his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Can I see a picture of him?” he asks, and Yoongi is already grabbing his phone, pulling up the last picture of Jungkook that was sent to him.

It was silly, kind of childish and endearing. Even though Yoongi can’t buy it for him anymore, Jungkook still goes to the convenience store for banana milk and triangle kimbap. Namjoon sent this picture of Jungkook balancing a banana milk carton on top of his head, mid-laughter, eyes bright. Somehow the cutest person in the entire world.

“Here.” Yoongi passes his phone across the table, watching Hoseok closely as he zooms in on different parts of the picture. “I don’t really know what I should tell Namjoon to give him. Do you have any ideas? He’s kind of a nerd, so.”

“What kind of nerd?” Hoseok asks, handing Yoongi’s phone back and returning to his sandwich. “He’s cute, by the way. Must suck doing long distance though.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We wanted to at least, like, try,” he explains, sort of defensively. When he accidentally revealed to Honggi that he and Jungkook were dating, Honggi was so critical of it. Yoongi didn’t get why, and still doesn’t. Even though he kinda misses Honggi now that he’s away at college. “Anyway, he likes anime and video games and stuff.”

“Oh…” Hoseok trails off, thinking face on. “Does he collect anything?”

“Not really. He likes… I don’t know, ugh, I feel like I’m blanking now that his birthday is actually here.” Yoongi perches his head in his palm, watching Hoseok continue to devour his sandwich. It’s not that tasty, but Hoseok always makes it seem like it is. “Would I be a shitty boyfriend to not get anything?”

Hoseok pauses, lifts his eyebrows. “Absolutely. One thing I’ve learned about relationships in the one very short one I’ve been in, is that they notice everything,” he says, and Yoongi groans. He hopes that isn’t the case here. It isn’t exactly easy to purchase a gift for your long distance boyfriend. “Get him a poster of his favorite anime or something. Or one of those figurines.”

“Is a stuffed animal cheesy?” Yoongi asks, pulling up Google on his phone to search something up. He doesn’t know which anime Jungkook likes to watch, but maybe some kind of cute plushie would work. “He has a small collection of those, I guess. But he’s turning fourteen. Would that make him embarrassed?”

“You’re his boyfriend though. Gifts like that are supposed to be cute. You should get it for him,” Hoseok says, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.

Yoongi spends the rest of lunch scouring the internet for the perfect plushie to order for Jungkook’s birthday gift.

By the time he gets off from school, Yoongi has ordered a small, white bunny plush to Jungkook’s house. It’s from a store that’s actually in Korea, so hopefully it’ll arrive in just a few days. He still has to call Jungkook and tell him happy birthday now, so he’ll let Jungkook know about the gift then.

Yoongi locks his bedroom door when he gets home from school, sitting on his desk chair with his laptop open on Skype. It says Jungkook is online, but it’s ridiculously early in Korea right now, so he’s not entirely sure if that’s accurate. Still, he tries messaging him and prays he gets a response.

ballermyg9: happy birthday jungkook-ah

ballermyg9: are you awake? can i call you?

jkseagull0: hyuuung

jkseagull0: thank you kekeke i just woke up

jkseagull0: i don’t look my best but i guess you can call…

ballermyg9: it’s okay i’m kinda gross from school, so it’s even

jkseagull0: let me go outside so i don’t wake up my parents

jkseagull0: ok im good now :))))

“Happy birthday Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says, as soon as Jungkook answers the call. He’s squinting into his phone screen, dull sunshine dancing over his sleep-puffy skin.

Maybe it’s just in Yoongi’s head, but he already looks a little older. Of course, Jungkook is fourteen, but… that’s what he’s supposed to look like, right?

“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook replies with a laugh, the slight scrunch of his nose. Yoongi decides that ordering a stuffed bunny was the right move, because Jungkook has to be a human reincarnation of a bunny. Like, it’s almost impossible to miss the resemblance. “How was school?”

“It was fine. Just… went to class and stuff.” Yoongi shrugs. “Ate lunch with my friend.”

There’s not much that goes on in school. He still doesn’t talk much, and he hasn’t really made any other friends. Hoseok’s friends don’t particularly like him, or they don’t acknowledge him when Hoseok brings him around. For some reason, Hoseok has started to sit alone with Yoongi, but it’s comforting, so he’s not exactly going to complain about it.

Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of a friend. “Yeah?” he asks, kicking something aside. It sounds like a soccer ball, but Yoongi can’t be sure. “Who is it? Are they nice?”

“His name’s Hoseok, And yeah, he’s nice. I know him from before. I didn’t really recognize anyone else until he started pointing people out to me these couple of weeks. We’ve been hanging out,” Yoongi explains, leaning back in his desk chair. He shuts his eyes as the ceiling fan whirls above his head. “Is your mom making you breakfast?”

“Yeah! She’ll probably make it now, plus I think Namjoon-hyung said his mom is sending food too,” Jungkook says, grinning brightly. He’s always been such a foodie. “Also, hyung, what’s happening to your Korean? You’ve only been gone for a few months, you sound so different.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. That’s literally untrue because he talked to Namjoon yesterday, who said his Korean sounds exactly the same. “You’re teasing me,” he whines when he realizes. Jungkook is poorly attempting to hide his laughter. “Stop, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”

“Uh, yes it does,” Jungkook argues, playfully rolling his eyes. Something burns inside Yoongi’s chest; the feeling of his heart caught on his ribcage returns. He misses Jungkook so much, it’s not even sort of funny. “I love making fun of you, hyung. You’re so easy to tease.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi responds, flaring his nostrils. He pulls out his phone, pretending to open up his email. “If you keep this up, I’m canceling the birthday gift I ordered for you. Rude people don’t deserve birthday gifts.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften, lips forming a pout. “What? You got me a gift, hyung?” he asks, and if Yoongi didn’t know any better, he’d say that Jungkook sounds like he’s about to cry. But if he cries, then Yoongi will cry, and that’s just embarrassing. “Hyung, tell me. Did you really?”

Yoongi slides his phone onto his desk with a sigh. “I did,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck as Jungkook’s bottom lip juts out further. “The website said it’ll be there in less than a week. I’ll tell you when it arrives, okay?”

“But what is it?” Jungkook asks, kicking that soccer ball again. His eyes are averted to the ground, but Yoongi has a perfect view of his reddening ears. Cute. “Hyung.”

“Mm, you’ll have to find out.” Yoongi shrugs, playing dumb. “I can’t remember what it is.”

Jungkook glances at his phone, then back at the ground, continuing to angry pout. “That’s literally a straight-up lie and you know it,” he says, looking over his shoulder a moment. He says something that comes out muffled, maybe to his mom. “Ugh, Mom’s making me get ready for school now. But I want to know what you got me!”

“You’ll have to see when it gets there,” Yoongi repeats, leaning his head into his palm. His heart despises the idea of having to hang up another call with Jungkook. They’ve been trying to keep up a weekly thing since Yoongi started school, but it hasn’t been very consistent. The timezones make it too unpredictable. “Bye, Jungkook-ah. Happy birthday again. Eat well, please.”

Jungkook smiles widely, just the way he did when he answered Yoongi’s call. “Bye hyung. I miss you,” he says, then waves. He hangs up before Yoongi has a chance to say it back.

ballermyg9: i miss you too :(

The sleep Yoongi gets that night is horrible.

It takes five days for the package to arrive at Jungkook’s house, and Yoongi has to beg Jungkook through messages to call him when he opens it. Even though it’ll be embarrassing once Jungkook actually sees what the gift actually is, Yoongi wants to know what his reaction will be.

Jungkook’s laptop is open on his desk, standing away from it with the box between his hands and one of his crooked smiles on. His school uniform is still on, just slightly askew with the buttons undone and sleeves rolled up. It’s kinda… attractive, more than Yoongi expected it to be, but he’d probably think that about anything Jungkook does.

Yoongi curls up tighter where he’s sitting on the couch, even though it’s the middle of the night. He spends quite some time alone in the house nowadays, since the project his parents are working on has picked up more. Something about land development—Yoongi doesn’t care to know the details anymore. All he knows is that his parents sleep like the dead now that they’re working so often.

“I’m opening it,” Jungkook says, after a few seconds of staring at each other. Yoongi just laughs and nods encouragingly; he’s not going to force Jungkook not to open it, when it’s literally addressed to him.

He watches fondly as Jungkook basically rips the box open with his bare hands, bouncing on his toes, clearly excited. Yoongi’s heart does that funny thing again; the thing it always does when he sees Jungkook.

“Holy… oh my god,” Jungkook says, when the box falls to the floor with a soft thud, and all that’s left in his hands is the bunny plushie. It looks even smaller in his hands, floppy ears resting on his knuckles. “It’s so soft, hyung. This is so cute.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek and his smile grows a little wider. “You like it?” he asks nervously, hiding his face behind his sleeve, only leaving his eyes for Jungkook to see. “I thought you could add it to the collection you keep in your closet.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops. He scrambles to shut his bedroom door, then turns back to Yoongi with his eyes practically popping out of his skull. “You know about that?” he asks, hugging the new plushie to his stomach. Yoongi just tilts his head back and laughs; what doesn’t he know about Jungkook at this point? “Hyung, come on. That is something embarrassing, you know, I—”

“You’re my boyfriend, okay? Just… shut up and say thank you,” Yoongi responds, growing more flustered by the second. Leave it to Jungkook to get him all red in the face. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I like it, hyung,” Jungkook responds, releasing it from his stomach, peering down with something akin to sadness in his eyes. He toys with the floppy ear, looking up with a bright smile. “Thank you. Really. This is the best gift ever.”

Yoongi laughs, unsure he deserves that praise. The gift was so last minute, yet so deliberate. “I’m glad you think so,” he says, glancing at the time in the corner of his screen. It’s almost one in the morning, and he agreed to meet Hoseok around noon for an attempted study session. “I should get to bed.”

Jungkook nods his head, disappointment clear in his eyes. “Okay,” he says, placing the bunny on his desk. “What time is it there?”

“Nearly one.”

“Hyung, oh my god. Please sleep!”

Yoongi smiles again and nods. “I will,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Jungkook nods in response, bringing his face close to the camera. And fuck, that hurts—his image is so close, but it’s not the same. It can never be the same as standing in front of Jungkook. Nothing will ever compare to holding Jungkook’s hands the day Yoongi left.

“Miss you,” Jungkook whispers. “Bye, hyung.”

“Miss you too.” Yoongi pushes another forced, pained smile onto his face. “Bye, Jungkook-ah.”

The call ends there, with a bitter feeling in his chest, and tears rolling down his face. Yoongi isn’t sure why being with Jungkook like this hurts so bad, but he hates it. He hates it entirely.

++

It’s two weeks until winter formal when someone approaches Yoongi to supposedly ask him out.

Yoongi says supposedly because he doesn’t believe that anyone in their right mind, other than Jungkook, would ask him out. The girl is kinda cute in Yoongi’s book, but he finds himself clenching his hands the moment he realizes that this classmate of his is trying to get him to go out to the formal with her.

He isn’t going to go anyway. He and Hoseok got closer in the last couple months, so they planned a sleepover instead for that night. It took a week of them persuading their parents, but it seems the plan is a go as of two days ago. Dad didn’t mind, and Mom seems to think Hoseok is the exact same kid he used to be at ten-years-old, so it’s a win-win situation.

Back to the girl.

Her name is Suzie. She sits next to Yoongi in a couple of his classes, but he never really paid attention to her unless he needed something like her notes. It’s a miracle that he even knows her name, really, because of how much he does not care about most of the people in his class. Pretty much anyone except for Hoseok gets ignored.

“Look,” Yoongi says, glancing over Suzie’s shoulder at her two friends standing a few feet away from them, waiting in anticipation. He was on his way home when she ambushed him; does she know what path he takes to walk home? “You’re nice and all, but…”

“But you already have a date?” Suzie suggests, sort of disappointed.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck. He’s not sure whether he should mention it or not, but he’s not a liar. He won’t convince someone that he’s single when he’s not. “Not exactly,” he says, eyeing the skepticism on Suzie’s face. “I have a boyfriend. Also, I’m not going.”

Suzie blinks. “You are gay?”

“No.” Yoongi shrugs, adjusts his bag over his shoulder. She didn’t need to say with in such an accusatory tone. It shouldn’t be that surprising that he likes guys too. “Well, not fully. Just… half, maybe.”

“Okay… that’s cool. Who’s your boyfriend then?”

Yoongi touches his ears nervously. He still hasn’t told anyone since Hoseok. “You wouldn’t know him,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to see if his escape has opened up. Escape might be dramatic, but this conversation is getting weirder and weirder.

“Why not?”

“He lives in Korea.”

“Oh.” Suzie tilts her head. “You’re not just making him up so you don’t feel bad about saying no, right?”

Yoongi blinks at her. Do people really think so low of him? “No, I’m not interested,” he says, since his initial attempt at letting Suzie down easy, clearly wasn’t enough. “I’m not interested and I have a boyfriend. Good luck finding someone else.”

Suzie deflates, finally accepting defeat. “Thanks,” she says, turning to leave. Yoongi begins to do the same, but halts when Suzie speaks again. “I’ll still send you the notes for stats.”

“Thanks. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Yoongi lifts his hand in a wave, trying to refrain from being awkward. It probably isn’t working. “See you.”

“Bye Yoongi,” Suzie says, returning the wave with a smile. She seems nice enough, but maybe just for a classmate.

Still, Yoongi walks home in shock. He never expected something like that to happen to him. By the looks of it, Suzie only asked him about the formal because the last day to buy tickets is Monday next week and she doesn’t have anyone else to go with. Yoongi genuinely does hope she has good luck finding a date. He doesn’t have any interest in these American traditions, anyway.

On his walk home, Yoongi finds himself putting in his earbuds and calling Namjoon. It’s still early, but Namjoon tends to sleep and wake at odd times, even during the school year.

“Hey Namjoon-ah, guess what just happened,” Yoongi says when Namjoon answers, lying sideways on his bed, with only one eye showing and the blanket tucked up to his nose. “Shit, did I wake you? It said you were online.”

“No, you’re good,” Namjoon responds in English, clearing his throat. “I woke up thirty minutes ago.”

Yoongi lifts his eyebrows. “Practicing again?” he asks, glancing up when he has to cross the street into his neighborhood. It’s only another five minutes from here, but it’s a five minute phone call he’ll take. For some reason, it’s easier to call Namjoon than it is to call Jungkook. “You’re getting better, Joon.”

“Thanks. What happened?” Namjoon responds, rolling over to his other side, exposing the rest of his face before he settles. Sometimes Yoongi thinks he’s similar to an oversized teddy bear, with the fluffy hair and absurdly long limbs. He doesn’t doubt Namjoon has grown even more since he left.

“Someone asked me out,” Yoongi says, kicking a stone along his path. “Well, not really. Turns out shit that happens in American movies is true because we have a winter formal at my school. Some girl in my class asked me to be her date.”

Namjoon nods. “What did you say?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “No, obviously. What do you take me for?” he asks, offended that Namjoon even questioned him. “I wouldn’t do that to Jungkook. If he lived here, I’d probably go with him. It’s him or no one at all, you know that.”

“I wish there was a way for you to see each other. I feel like you talk about him every time we call.”

“That’s… whatever.” Yoongi adjusts his phone to show less of his face, because he can literally see in the camera that he’s blushing. It makes sense that he would talk about Jungkook—they’ve been dating for almost six months now—but it’s still surreal. “I can do whatever I want.”

Namjoon is for a moment quiet while Yoongi continues to walk. “I never asked you,” he says, this time in Korean. Yoongi looks back at his phone—there’s a puzzled frown on Namjoon’s face. “I never asked you how you felt about this. I mean, being with Jungkook after liking him for so long.”

“It’s good,” is all Yoongi can supply.

He might love Jungkook a little bit, but Namjoon doesn’t need to know that. The time difference still gets tough, and Jungkook can be distant sometimes, but Yoongi would still call it good. His heart doesn’t feel like it’s getting ripped in two when he thinks about Jungkook, aside from registering the distance. In spite of how awkward Jungkook gets, he still loves it; loves them.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, but his face is soon blocked out by an incoming video call from Honggi. “Um, I can’t see you anymore.”

“Hyung’s calling me, so I’ll talk to you later, I guess,” Yoongi responds, frowning as his thumb hovers over the accept button. Honggi almost never calls him, especially not on video, unless he needs Yoongi to do something for him. He hasn’t called Yoongi once while he’s been away at college, so this is out of character.

Namjoon says bye, and Yoongi answers Honggi’s call as soon as he reaches home.

“Are you alone?” Honggi asks—he always speaks English with Yoongi. It’s really irritating. It’s like he wants to shed that part of their identity entirely. “Dude, come on. Are you home? Is Mom and Dad there?”

Yoongi shuts the front door and locks it. “No, they’re at work,” he says, leaving his backpack on the stairs once he removes his shoes. He squints at his phone, trying to decipher why his screen is completely black. “Why did you call me, hyung?”

After a lull of silence, Yoongi learns why Honggi called him.

There’s a bruise on the left side of Honggi’s face, just near his cheekbone and eye. It’s nasty and almost black, stretching up towards his eyelid. His bottom lip is busted open, and there’s a red gash that’s scarring on his forehead. Yoongi gapes; did Honggi get himself into a fight or something?

“What the fuck?” Yoongi blurts, without even thinking. He tries not to curse in front of family, even if Honggi curses in front of him, but he feels like the situation calls for it. At least it makes Honggi laugh. “What—are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I don’t even have a concussion, but hey, listen. My school sent them a letter about something that happened, but I need you to intercept it,” Honggi explains, and Yoongi already finds himself complying as he turns on his heel to check the incoming mail. “This happened a few days ago, so I’m guessing it’s already there.”

Yoongi picks up the stack of envelopes sitting on the floor near the mail slot. There’s a few different letters, but the last one seems to be the one from Honggi’s school. “Is it this?” he asks, holding it up for his camera to see. “It’s the only thing with your school’s name on it.”

“Yeah, that should be it. Get rid of it. Burn it or something. Just make sure they don’t see it.”

Yoongi frowns down at the envelope addressed to their parents. “What did you do, hyung?” he asks, flipping it over to debate on opening it. It’s probably an invasion of privacy, but—if Yoongi is doing this for Honggi, he feels like he deserves to know the truth. “Did you fight someone?”

Honggi makes a noise of dissent. “It wasn’t exactly a fight,” he says, bitterness in his tone. Yoongi rolls his eyes; of course he’s going to be vague. It’s Honggi. “That implies it’s two-sided. Someone just… strongly disagreed with me.”

“So someone beat you up?”

“Jesus, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

Yoongi shifts his weight on his legs. “Just be straightforward with me or I’m putting this letter front and center on Dad’s desk,” he threatens, although he wouldn’t actually do that to Honggi. In terms of family, Honggi is the only person Yoongi has, even if they aren’t that close. When it comes down to it, they’re brothers. “Hyung, come on. It can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“Okay, it’s not bad,” Honggi says, wincing when he bumps his bruise against his arm a little too roughly. Yoongi scrunches up his nose on Honggi’s behalf—he doubts the bruise doesn’t hurt. “I just—okay, do you know… Hold on.”

“Hyung.”

“I called out another guy for being a piece of shit without realizing that he had the temperment of an angry horse.”

Yoongi snorts in laughter; okay, that’s kind of funny to imagine. But then the image actually clicks, and he realizes that this guy who apparently has the temperment of an angry horse, beat up his older brother.

“What did he say?”

“You’re so annoying.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes and holds up the letter, not even caring if it’s blackmail. “It’s life or death, hyung. Answer my question.”

Honggi groans, burying his face into his pillow for a second, then pulling it out with a deep, calming breath. “He was being racist and homophobic. You’re telling me you’d sit there and take that shit if you heard someone being an asshole?” he asks, lifting a challenging eyebrow. Yoongi shakes his head quickly. “That’s what I thought. I taught you well.”

“You did not teach me anything,” Yoongi deadpans.

“I taught you well,” Honggi repeats.

Yoongi takes a couple strides towards Mom and Dad’s study. “I’ll shred the letter,” he says, glancing down at Honggi on his phone. “Hopefully you’re healed up before winter break. They’ll ask questions if you’re not.”

“It should be relatively better by then. If not, then I’ll tell them I walked into a door frame. They’d believe that.”

“Sure. Whatever,” Yoongi kicks open the door of the study, powering on the shredding machine. He turns his phone to show Honggi as it disappears, then back to himself once it’s gone. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then?”

Honggi gives a thumbs up. “Thanks bro, you’re the best.”

Yoongi scrunches up his nose. “Do not call me that,” he says, but Honggi has already hung up by the time the words leave his mouth.

For the most part, Honggi minds his own business. There were moments where he used to pester Yoongi more often—just about school and life, and generally being a bothersome older brother. But as they’ve gotten older, Yoongi just… stopped caring as much. Maybe it’s a little depressing to say it, but it’s true.

Once Yoongi was old enough to register that Honggi was trying to force a friendship between them, he pushed it away, and Honggi let him. He doesn’t know why it feels so shitty, now that he’s looking back on his actions for the past five or six years. Honggi never really expresses that he cares about anything in Yoongi’s life.

Well, Yoongi’s not so sure. When he looks at his phone again, he has one message waiting for him from Honggi.

Honggi Min [3:44 PM]

By the way, how’s your boyfriend doing?

Yoongi Min [3:47 PM]

why do u care

Honggi Min [3:48 PM]

Because you’re my brother and I want to make sure you’re not being stupid.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Honggi really, truly thinks that he has made some sort of impact.

Yoongi Min [3:48 PM]

my bf is fine, thanks

Honggi Min [3:49 PM]

Nice. See you in a couple weeks then

Yoongi Min [3:50 PM]

see u

++

The day Honggi returns for winter break is the same day Yoongi and Hoseok planned their sleepover. It didn’t happen that way intentionally, just by chance, but Honggi doesn’t even do much other than greet them and hide out in his bedroom the whole evening. Yoongi and Hoseok lockdown the family room as theirs for the night.

“Movie?” Yoongi asks, tossing Hoseok the TV remote when he returns from calling his mom. “I think we might have some popcorn. I’d offer video games, but I’m pretty sure my brother would rather die than let me play on his console.”

“No, it’s cool. Not a huge video game person. Or movies, so…” Hoseok stretches his legs out once he flops onto the couch beside Yoongi, making himself comfortable. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not really. You?”

“I mean… we could surf YouTube until we find something interesting,” Hoseok suggests, reaching for his backpack on the floor. He pulls out his laptop, readjusting so Yoongi can see the screen at the same time. “I don’t really know what to watch, like, ever. My parents are kind of strict in that sense.”

“I get it. Trust me,” Yoongi mumbles, shaking his head. In comparison to people like Namjoon’s mom, his parents are relatively mellow, but they still have their moments of strictness. “There’s some stupid comedy stuff I watch sometimes. What do you think of that?”

Hoseok hums as he drags the mouse over to his search bar. “Sure, why not?” He lifts the laptop high enough for Yoongi to type in the channel, and they settle down to watch a couple of videos.

About halfway through the third video, once they’ve gotten some pizza from Yoongi’s parents and a liter bottle of Coke just for themselves, Hoseok turns to Yoongi and asks, “Can you tell me what it’s like to have a boyfriend?”

Yoongi lifts his head from where he’s staring at the video. “What?” he asks, as he processes the question. That seems so out of the blue, plus he almost never talks about Jungkook with Hoseok. It just feels weird because they don’t really know each other, so Yoongi keeps everything to himself for the most part. “You want to know?”

“I mean… I’ve had a girlfriend before.” Hoseok fiddles with the corner of his paper plate, frowning at the screen. “She was nice, and cute. I liked her a lot for a while, but we just… didn’t work out. And that was fine I guess. So I was just wondering what it’s like with another guy.”

Yoongi nods. He’s somewhat sure that word spread from Suzie about his “supposed relationship with some guy in Korea.” With Suzie’s initial doubt, he seriously wonders whether or not she actually believed him when he told her about Jungkook. She seemed so hesitant about his answer. No one has asked him, but he doesn’t want to rule that out.

“I mean, it’s normal, I guess?” Yoongi shrugs, glancing back at his unfinished pizza crusts. He can’t help but think that if Jungkook were here, he would finish them. “But it’s different too, because we’re long distance. I feel like… very far from him. Like I’m an outsider in his life.” He shrugs again, trying to play off the unease about his relationship with Jungkook. “Why are you asking, though?”

“I think I like someone?” Hoseok frowns, looking back at the YouTube video. The initial one they were watching has finished, and a new video has autoplayed. “He’s on my lacrosse team. And one of the only openly gay people I know, and he doesn’t know that I might have feelings for him. I don’t know how to tell him either.”

Yoongi sympathizes. He was in that position six months ago too. If it weren’t for the move, he doesn’t think he’d have worked up the courage to confess to Jungkook about how he feels. Even then, sometimes Yoongi wonders if it made him too much of a coward to hide behind a pen instead of confessing to his face.

“It depends on the people in the relationship, doesn’t it?” Yoongi asks, perching his chin on top of his knees. He nudges his plate closer to Hoseok, nodding when he meets his eyes in question. “If you like him and you feel like he likes you too, then you should say something. My… relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t say anything.”

Hoseok nods, bites into the leftover crust of Yoongi’s pizza. “Sure,” he says, chewing. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I didn’t read his feelings right?”

“I don’t know. I guess you just… get over it?” Yoongi scratches his cheek. He’s not sure why Hoseok is asking all these questions, as if he’s some expert on relationships and boyfriends. Just because he’s actively in one, doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing. “Half the time I feel like Jungkook doesn’t want to be with me anymore, so.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Hoseok sits up more, placing the crust on the plate again. Yoongi looks away, feels heat crawling up his spine to his neck. They cannot seriously be having this conversation right now. “Are you guys okay? I thought you—”

“I mean, I love him.” Yoongi frowns down at his hands, unsure of his own words. “At least I think I do.”

Hoseok places his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Why do you think he doesn’t want to be with you?” he asks, in a voice softer than Yoongi has ever heard him use to speak. For some reason, tears brim his eyes at the sound. “You’re great. He’s lucky to have you.”

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. Overthinking everything is such a horrible quality. “It’s fine,” he murmurs, even though nothing is fine. It feels like it’s been so long since he spoke to Jungkook over a call, video or otherwise. “Sorry. This isn’t about me. Tell me about your friend.”

“You met him,” Hoseok says, speaking slowly, probably still lingering on Yoongi’s sudden confession. He hasn’t even told that to Jungkook yet, so he doesn’t know why it came out right now. “He’s the other Asian guy, his name’s Ryan.”

“He’s Chinese, right?”

Hoseok nods, eyebrows softening just at the mention. He must really like this guy. “We started hanging out more. I don’t know, grabbing food after school and going to the gym,” he says, then bends his head to squeeze between his knees. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, ugh, I’ve never felt like this. And he’s older.”

“Senior?” Yoongi asks, tilting an eyebrow up.

“Junior.” Hoseok throws himself back against the couch. “I feel like someone who’s never had a crush before.”

Yoongi laughs, ruffling Hoseok’s hair affectionately. “You get used to it,” he says, and he figures he can say that after spending years silently agonizing over liking Jungkook. “I think you should tell him. You’ll never know unless you do.”

“Maybe.” Hoseok flicks his eyes back at his laptop and grimaces. Yoongi joins him and feels his mouth form a similar expression; there’s some random music video playing with lots of naked body parts and hands. “Um, do you want to turn this off and go upstairs?”

Yoongi lowers the screen until it’s shut. “I don’t think I want to know what that is,” he mutters, picking up the Coke bottle to pour himself more. The internet is a weird place. “I’m sure we can find something else to do in my room. We’ve already been here for a couple hours.”

The rest of the night is spent on Yoongi’s bedroom floor, bickering and gossiping about the people in their classes and a little about music. Yoongi tries not to think about Jungkook; what it’d be like if he was here, the overwhelming warmth in his chest when he sees him, but the doubt for their relationship stays niggling in the back of his mind.

It’s not so much that Yoongi thinks Jungkook doesn’t like him, he doesn’t really think that’s an issue. The problem lies within doing long distance—the frustration of not being able to speak in person, the hesitation when they actually manage to call.

Even then, Jungkook is flaky. He’ll respond with “Sorry hyung, I have a big assignment for class” or “I’m too tired tonight, maybe tomorrow.” Things that Yoongi never does, because he wants to make time and space in his life for Jungkook. Because he loves him. At least he thinks this is love.

On Christmas morning, Yoongi sneaks away from his family, hiding out in his parents’ study to answer a phone call from Jungkook.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, sitting on the floor against the wall, so his body is hidden by Dad’s desk. That way if someone comes looking for him, he probably won’t be seen. “Merry Christmas, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook smiles in the half-awake state that he’s in, tucked under the covers of his blanket, only showing off half of his face. Even like this, he’s the cutest person that Yoongi’s ever seen. “Merry Christmas, hyung. What’d you get?” he asks, then buries his face into the blanket, hiding the bottom half of his face.

Yoongi averts his eyes from the screen, finding his face flaring with heat. “Just… stuff,” he says with a shrug. Most of it was various clothing from all three of his family members, when in turn Yoongi gifted them things he genuinely thought they’d like. Mom got a new pen for her tablet, and Dad got a tie to wear to work. Honggi got a new set of picks for his guitar. “You?”

“Just stuff, too,” Jungkook echoes, even with his voice muffled by the blanket.

The silence between them stretches out for miles. Yoongi’s head spins trying to come up with something to talk about. Jungkook clearly isn’t interested in discussing what he did for Christmas, or how his winter break is going. For some reason, Yoongi thought they’d have more time now that they’re off from school, but it’s proved to be untrue.

“So…” Yoongi murmurs, a weak attempt for a conversation. He tucks his arm close to his chest, using his hand to cover half of his face. It feels wrong to show all of himself, when Jungkook is mostly hidden from the camera frame. “You’re probably tired, huh?”

Jungkook laughs. “Um, yeah,” he says, and Yoongi can hear it now, the gravel in his voice, the way his words drag. “I… guess I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Sure.” Yoongi clenches his jaw, forces a smile. He watches Jungkook do the same—eyebrows scrunched and lips wobbling. “Sleep well, Jungkook-ah.”

“Bye hyung. Merry Christmas again.”

In less than three minutes, Jungkook is gone. Yoongi slides his phone into his lap, pressing his forehead into his knees.

Is he doing something wrong? Why does everything suddenly feel so awkward with Jungkook?

++

The rest of winter break continues similarly for Yoongi. He tries to push his worries about Jungkook to the back of his mind, but it’s persistent, a relentless itch inside his brain. As much as he attempts to keep himself distracted by spending time with his family, it fails. Yoongi just doesn’t know how to forget about it.

A day or two after the new year begins, Jungkook calls him. Well, Yoongi isn’t sure what to call the time because of how late into the night it is. He supposes, technically speaking, that it’s the morning of the second, but in his mind it’s the night of the first.

New Year’s was spent in the city, going out to a fancy restaurant that Dad insisted they try, and shopping with Mom until their feet ached and eyes burned. Yoongi drank a cup of coffee from a Starbucks on the drive back home, and somehow managed a power nap in the car, so he’s wide awake when Jungkook’s call reaches him.

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” Jungkook says, voice soft through Yoongi’s phone speaker. It’s only a voice call, and Yoongi can’t help but overthink what that could possibly mean. Since he moved back to America, they’ve only done video calls, so why the sudden change? “It’s late, hyung. You should be fast asleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Yoongi answers, shifting onto his back, staring at the light from his phone screen dancing on his ceiling. “What’s up with you?”

Jungkook laughs, but it sounds hesitant and forced and not at all like his laugh. Yoongi’s heart stutters with worry; something has to be wrong. “I was just…” he trails off, the silence consuming Yoongi from head to toe. “Thinking. I was thinking.”

Yoongi lifts his free hand, letting the light pass through his fingers. “Yeah?” he urges, keeping his voice low so he doesn’t wake Mom and Dad, or disturb Honggi next door. He rests his hand on his stomach. “About what?”

When Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately, Yoongi is afraid he won’t like what Jungkook has to say.

“Us,” Jungkook responds, eventually, maybe a couple minutes later. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut and thinks, no no no, this isn’t happening right now. “I just… you know I really do like you hyung, right?”

Yoongi doesn’t want to open his eyes, because if he does, then he’s going to cry. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing down the shakiness in his voice, the way his throat feels like a rock is lodged in it. “I know that.”

“Just, hyung, this is just—awkward.” Jungkook sighs, and Yoongi can imagine him hunched over at his desk, phone screen shining on his anxious face. The slight draw of his eyebrows, the way he rolls his lips into his mouth sometimes. “I wanted to wait a couple minutes into this call to say something, but I don’t think I can.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. He can’t—he can’t.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, “let’s break up.”

As soon as the words pass through his phone speaker, Yoongi’s heart catches onto his ribcage once more, and he prays he misheard. But the truth is, he heard Jungkook loud and clear: he wants to break up. The worst part about it is, despite how much love Yoongi has for Jungkook, he wouldn’t force him to stay in a relationship. He’s going to say, “okay,” and let Jungkook go.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, letting his eyes flutter open. One tear from each eye slides down his temple, vision blurring and dimming as he struggles to find something concrete to say. What do you say when someone breaks up with you? He settles on, “I understand.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh, and it pains Yoongi that it sounds like relief. How long was Jungkook keeping this in that he seems so… calm about doing this?

“I’m glad you feel the same,” Jungkook continues, although that’s so far from the truth. Still, Yoongi doesn’t correct him. “We can still be friends and text and stuff. But, this part is really hard for me, hyung. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt,” Yoongi says—a fucking lie—and forces a smile onto his face, even though it physically pains him to do so. “We can be friends, Jungkook-ah. I like being your friend.”

Jungkook sounds like he has a smile in his voice. “Okay,” he whispers. Yoongi’s heart pounds against his chest, against the sharp edges of his ribs, ready to rip him open. “I’ll talk to you later, then?”

Yoongi bites his lips together for a moment, and only manages a broken, “yeah,” before Jungkook ends the call.

For a while, Yoongi simply lies motionless in his bed. His thick comforter is thrown over his body, arms tucked into his stomach, the tears flowing down the sides of his face. He tries to pinpoint where this could have gone wrong, where he missed the clues Jungkook left for him to pick up. How couldn’t he have seen this coming?

It isn’t like Yoongi didn’t feel it either. He truly did feel like there was an invisible, miles-wide gap between him and Jungkook, as if the long distance wasn’t enough. Awkward was the right word for Jungkook to use. Half the time Yoongi went to text him, he came up short of something worth sharing.

So, it’s for the better, Yoongi tells himself. Jungkook will have a better life without the burden of their long distance relationship over him. Maybe Yoongi will feel the same. Maybe this way, he won’t have to be painfully in love with an ocean between them.

Yoongi pulls himself up, wiping his cheeks, tip-toeing out of his bedroom. The light beneath Honggi’s bedroom door is shining onto the hallway, so he uses that as a guide as he slips past, careful of the creaks in the wooden floor. It takes an extra thirty seconds, but Yoongi makes it downstairs to the kitchen in one piece.

He scours the fridge for something to eat, stomach lining gnawing at him from the inside. He tugs open the freezer door, pushing aside some frozen leftovers, and his eyes land on a tub of butter pecan ice cream. Probably not the smartest idea, eating Dad’s favorite ice cream, but Yoongi doesn’t have a lot of options.

As soon as Yoongi digs into the tub, he freezes at the sound of footsteps joining him downstairs.

“Ah, so I wasn’t imagining your voice,” Honggi says, shielding his eyes from the singular light that’s illuminating the kitchen. Yoongi scowls; was Honggi listening when he had his phone call with Jungkook? “You look a little, uh, red.”

Yoongi rubs his stinging eyes. “Thanks,” he mutters, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He probably looks so pathetic, even if it’s just Honggi. “Did you come down just to comment on the color of my face?”

“Is it so shocking that I want to be worried about you?” Honggi rolls his eyes, shuffling to the utensils drawer to grab a spoon. He joins Yoongi at the table, stealing a spoonful of ice cream. “I heard you crying. We share a wall, dipshit.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi avoids looking at Honggi. He doesn’t want to be read so easily. Doesn’t want Honggi shoving his nose in his business.

Even from the corner of his eyes, he can see Honggi raise his eyebrows. “Okay, you’ve turned into a completely different person since I saw you in August. What’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Yoongi snaps, even though he can feel his eyes betraying him, tears refilling to the brim. “Why do you care?”

“I’m your brother. Shocker, I know, but that does mean I care about you.”

Yoongi scoffs. He didn’t see any of this care before they moved back to America. “Sure you do,” he mutters, returning to the ice cream. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Honggi takes another spoonful of ice cream, then grimaces once he actually eats it. “I’m not pretending,” he says, and Yoongi has a hard time believing that, for some reason. In the back of his mind, somewhere beneath all his negative feelings, he knows it must be true. But right now, all he can muster thinking about is how much his heart hurts. How it’s bleeding out inside his chest. “What happened?”

“Just leave it, hyung.” Yoongi wipes his eye with the heel of his palm, sniffling. “It’s not important.”

“That’s bullshit.” Honggi sighs, tipping his head back for a moment, then looks at Yoongi straight-on. Yoongi almost flinches when he starts speaking Korean. “Look, Yoongi-yah, I know I haven’t been the greatest to you. But being away from home has fucking sucked these last five months, so let me in. Please.”

Yoongi flares his nostrils. “You’re desperate enough to speak Korean with me, hyung?” he asks, still undecided on if he’s amused by this or not. If this is Honggi making an effort at the bare minimum, Yoongi wonders what else he could get his brother to do. “You really want to know?”

Hoongi looks at him with eyes Yoongi has never seen before. “Tell me what happened,” he says, laying his spoon on the ice cream tub lid.

“Um.” Yoongi sets his spoon alongside Honggi’s, folding his shoulders into himself, hands tucked between his thighs. His lips shake as he forces the truth out of his mouth. “Jungkook broke up with me.”

“Oh, man…”

“It’s fine.” Yoongi squints at the ice cream melting inside the flimsy paper tub, the way the container becomes misshapen, losing its structure. That’s sort of how Yoongi feels; like someone stole his foundation and now he’s crumbling. “I knew it wouldn’t have lasted, but I wanted to try. I’ll get over it.”

Honggi places his hand on top of Yoongi’s slightly bowed head, ruffling his hair. “Don’t force it,” he says, in a more understanding voice than Yoongi has ever heard him use. Maybe there is some truth to his caring. Yoongi shouldn’t have doubted Honggi so much. “You’ll get over it with time, okay?”

Yoongi sniffs. “I know,” he murmurs, lifting his head to look at Honggi’s half-smile. It’s genuine nonetheless. “I just… wish I saw it coming? I did see it coming, but not this soon, I guess.”

“You’ll be okay,” Honggi says, pulling his hand back. He gets up from the table, washing the two used spoons, storing the ice cream back in the fridge. Always the more responsible one, Yoongi thinks with an eye roll. “Do you want to hear about my love life instead?” Honggi points to the doorway leading into the family room.

“Sure,” Yoongi finds himself saying, and he follows Honggi into the family room.

They settle on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, Yoongi curling into himself with a pillow hugged close to his chest. Honggi chooses to wrap himself into a blanket, like a burrito. Yoongi’s tempted to do the same, but he doesn’t want Honggi to tease him for being a copycat, so he sticks with his pillow.

“I thought your love life was nonexistent,” Yoongi comments, grinning when Honggi throws his head back with a groan.

“It’s existent, just barely,” Honggi retorts, snuggling further into his blanket, readjusting his head on the back of the couch. “There’s… this girl. In my class. She’s really cute.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. He hopes to god there’s more than that to this girl.

Honggi shifts, sighing dramatically. “Her name’s Sophie. I like her, we have chemistry together. Same music taste, same movie taste. She’s Korean too, you know? But… the thing is, she’s taken.”

“Yikes.” Yoongi wrinkles his nose. No wonder Honggi wants to sit down and talk about it. “How bad is it?”

“Well, her boyfriend’s an asshole, so there’s that.” Honggi huffs, glancing at Yoongi, then up at the ceiling. Yoongi tries not to laugh at how hard Honggi is blushing. “He’s the one who punched me last month. He was being this—this homophobic, racist, sexist piece of shit. And I could tell it was bothering her, but she won’t say anything because she’s clearly scared.”

Yoongi falters in a response. He never thought too long or hard about relationships like that, but it sounds downright horrible. He can’t imagine being with someone who didn’t respect him.

“I mean, she was more hung up on me being hurt than him—not that I punched him back or anything, but doesn’t that… say something?” Honggi continues to ramble, still avoiding looking at Yoongi. “Why would she care more about how I felt than her own boyfriend?”

“I don’t know this girl that you like, but she probably likes you too.” Yoongi can’t say that for sure, because he doesn’t know the full context or whatever. But that’s what Honggi is making it sound like. “It’s just, you know, hard because she’s already in a relationship. One that she might be unhappy in.”

Honggi nods, sighing. “Yeah, I thought that too,” he responds, knitting his eyebrows together. Somewhere, in the back of Yoongi’s cluttered brain, he appreciates the fact that the two of them are bonding. He never imagined having this kind of conversation with Honggi. “Is it worth waiting for, though? I mean, I’ve only known her since the beginning of the school year.”

“Maybe wait a little and see where it goes?” Yoongi shrugs, at a loss. In his situation, he forced himself to confess because he knew there wouldn’t be a chance to do so afterward. “Are you like… close friends with her?”

“Yeah, kind of. Well, we’ve… texted pretty much daily since winter break started.”

“She definitely likes you.” When Yoongi and Jungkook started dating, they texted as constantly as they possibly could. Yoongi tries to figure out, in his head, when they stopped talking so often. “Just wait for her, I guess. It won’t hurt you to do that.”

Honggi purses his lips and stares at the ceiling again, mind clearly drifting elsewhere. Yoongi turns his attention to the clock, as it ticks towards four a.m. He wonders what Jungkook went off to do after he hung up their phone call. He wonders if Jungkook felt even a fraction of the pain Yoongi did after he ended their relationship.

After watching the clock for two minutes, Yoongi snaps his head to look at Honggi when they both are startled at the sound of footsteps on the staircase. By the sound of it, it’s Dad, and he won’t be very happy to learn that they’re both awake in the middle of the night.

“Yah,” Dad says, as soon as he registers that the two of them are awake. He squints through the light, looking at the TV screen, then back at them. Yoongi hugs his pillow closer to his chest; he hopes Dad’s too tired to notice how red and puffy his face must look. “Why aren’t you in bed? Do you even know what time it is?”

Honggi speaks before Yoongi can even open his mouth. “We’re just bonding, Dad, don’t worry. We were about to go to sleep now, anyway.” He climbs off the couch, neatly folding the blanket he was using, and offers his hand to Yoongi to take. Yoongi pulls himself up, placing the pillow back in its place.

Dad eyes them skeptically, then breaks into a wide yawn. “Fine, but go to bed immediately. Mom’s not going to be happy if she’s woken from her rest,” he says, pointing to the staircase.

Yoongi murmurs an apology as he walks past, trailing after Honggi back to his bedroom.

Before Yoongi can shut his bedroom door, Honggi stops him and asks, “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

Despite what Yoongi thinks about his brother, he just turns his head away and replies, “I know.”

++

When the school year restarts, Hoseok asks Yoongi if his friend (crush) Ryan can hang out with them during lunch. They decide to find somewhere off-campus, since Ryan has a car, and Yoongi painfully feels like the third wheel as Hoseok and Ryan converse noisily in the front seat. But it’s kind of worth it, seeing Hoseok flustered and excited.

It’s only been a few days since Jungkook broke up with him, and they haven’t texted much. He hasn’t told Hoseok either.

They decided on fast food, since that’s the only place around campus that’s half-decent and not expensive. Hoseok throws his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder when they get out of the car, but he’s rambling to Ryan about what it’s going to be like when the lacrosse season restarts.

“Yoongi, do you play any sports?” Ryan asks, suddenly turning his attention less on Hoseok, more on Yoongi.

“Basketball. But I’m short, so it’s just for fun,” Yoongi says, then shrugs Hoseok’s arm off his shoulder. He crosses his arms, glancing between Hoseok and Ryan, wondering if he can deduce whether Ryan likes him back or not. “I never played a sport for school or anything. And don’t convince me to try-out for lacrosse because that is not happening.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Your favorite pastime is thinking about Jungkook, so I’m not surprised,” he says, and it’s supposed to be a joke, but something ugly in Yoongi’s chest rears its head.

“We broke up,” Yoongi snaps, clenching his teeth together. Hoseok’s expression freezes, then melts off his face.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Hoseok glances up at Ryan, gesturing him towards the open counter to order. Once they’re alone again, he turns to Yoongi with a sympathetic look on his face, laying his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. It’s a nice gesture, but Yoongi feels like absolute shit. “Are you okay? I know you like…”

Yoongi pushes him off. “I’ll just… tell you later,” he mutters, shuffling towards the order counter. “Not when Ryan is here.”

Hoseok hesitates, then nods his head in confirmation. “Okay,” he says, and Yoongi goes on to order the greasiest, most unhealthy item on the menu and a large Coke. He desperately needs this.

He doesn’t talk much while they eat. Hoseok is clearly head-over-heels for Ryan, and vice versa, just judging by the way they talk to each other. Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised if they started dating sometime between now and Valentine’s Day. It dawns on him that he most likely won’t have a valentine this year, again, and it sucks because it could have been Jungkook.

A lot of thoughts dawn on Yoongi throughout the week, observing his classmates with their boyfriends and girlfriends and all the gossip going around from winter break. Someone’s boyfriend slept with someone else’s girlfriend, and this couple broke up, and that couple got back together for the third time.

Yoongi doesn’t know where he stands in the midst of the chaos. Before winter break started, the only thing he was concerned about was if Suzie decided to tell everyone that he has a boyfriend, but now Yoongi’ll look like an idiot if he says he doesn’t. It’s the last thing he expects, when a random girl comes up to him, Hoseok, and Ryan on Friday at lunch, to ask just that.

The girl leans towards Yoongi, batting her eyelashes. “Is it true?” she asks, gesturing to his body as a whole.

Before Yoongi answers, he just knows for sure that no one would ever do this in Korea. “Is what true?” he asks, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“That you’re gay?” Yoongi has to try hard not to roll his eyes. So word really did get around, then. He was so sure no one cared about what he had to say, and then this happened.

“I’m not—” Yoongi groans, glancing at Ryan watching him closely, at Hoseok ready to say something in defense of him. “I’m just bi, damn. Why does it matter anyway?”

The girl shrugs. “Doesn’t matter at all. I was just wondering if you’re free to like or not. No one has fun crushing on gay guys, you know,” she explains, as if Yoongi was actually expecting her to answer. He merely rolls his eyes and grabs his headphones. “Well, thanks for answering. Bye!”

“Girls are so weird,” Yoongi mutters, pulling on his headphones, angrily shoving the jack into his phone. “Like, what does it matter? Who would want to be in a relationship at this age anyway?”

Hoseok kicks him beneath the table and raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with you?” he mouths, and Yoongi just shrugs, finding a playlist. He’s over this phase of caring too much about what people think. He’s just going to start minding his own business. “Yoongi, c’mon dude.”

“I have some stuff I need to return to the library,” Yoongi lies, gathering his trash, pulling on his bag as he stands. He turns the volume higher so he doesn’t have to hear what Hoseok has to say next.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get his peace from Hoseok for very long. He gets stopped and interrogated while they’re getting changed for P.E. class.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” Hoseok asks, pulling Yoongi away from everyone else in their class, hiding behind some lockers. He regards Yoongi so seriously, so earnestly. At this point, Yoongi just wants to be left alone. “When are you going to tell me what happened with Jungkook?”

Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, forcing his emotions back into the pocket he created for them. He can’t do this right here, right now in the middle of the fucking boys’ locker room. “I’ll just—” He pauses, opening his eyes to look at Hoseok again. “Are you changed? Let’s go wait outside and I’ll tell you.”

Hoseok nods, and Yoongi waits until they’re outside to start speaking again. Even then, he’s going to talk about this in Korean so there’s a lower chance of someone overhearing and understanding. “Remember what I told you last month?” he asks, glancing up at Hoseok. “Please tell me you know what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a great speaker, so you’ll get me in English,” Hoseok responds, only offering a thumbs up. Yoongi will take it; he should have noticed earlier that Hoseok usually speaks very broken Korean to Mom and Dad when he comes over. “Anyway, yeah, I remember. About Jungkook?”

Yoongi nods. “Turns out I wasn’t so wrong,” he says, hopping onto the ledge beside the gym doors. The teachers always yell at them for sitting on it, but at this rate, he doesn’t even care. Hoseok stays standing on the ground, face scrunched up. “It only happened, like, last week. He called me and said he wanted to be friends instead?”

“And I’m guessing this is contributing to your asshole mood?” Hoseok asks, raising an eyebrow. Yoongi makes a face at that. He’s not being an asshole. “Don’t look at me like that, dude, you know you were being rude today at lunch. Ryan asked me if you anger issues or something after you left.”

“What the hell,” Yoongi mutters in English. He casts a glance around to see if anyone heard what Hoseok said, but luckily people usually hangout inside the locker rooms or closer to the gym doors. “He seriously asked you that?”

Hoseok throws his hands into the air as he begins to pace, obviously frustrated. “Yes, and I had to explain to him that you just get moody and cynical sometimes. Which, by the way, isn’t something you did two months ago!”

“Why are you more worked up about this than I am?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows, lets himself smile a little as he realizes why Hoseok is getting so frustrated. “Is it because of Ryan?”

“Shut up.”

Yoongi balances his hands on the wall, laughing out loud. “It is,” he says, watching Hoseok’s entire face and ears begin to turn cherry red. That’s fucking hilarious. “You know he very obviously likes you too. I think you need to tell him or he’s going to think you’re a straight guy leading him on.”

Hoseok stops pacing, turns towards Yoongi with his eyes wide. “You serious?” he asks, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “You think he likes me back?”

“Jesus, Hoseok, anyone with eyes knows he likes you back,” Yoongi responds, hopping off the wall before the teacher could tell him off for it. Hoseok follows after him to the gym, sort of dazed in his eyes, evidently in his dreamland where he and Ryan are together. “I didn’t mean what I said about relationships. Just… go for it.”

As the P.E. teacher settles the class down to start class, Yoongi’s mind drags him back to thinking about Jungkook.

Seeing Hoseok so happy and animated about liking Ryan, and Ryan possibly liking him back, kind of hurts Yoongi in a way. He doesn’t want to warn Hoseok against it, because he doesn’t know if their relationship could go differently. Love just feels like an unknown realm, and Yoongi might just be bitter that Jungkook broke up with him.

Yoongi doesn’t want to keep lingering on it. He doesn’t want to mourn over his relationship with Jungkook, when he could be moving past it and enjoying his life as a high schooler. Besides, he and Jungkook are still friends. He doesn’t hate Jungkook or anything. He’d rather be happier apart, then unhappy together.

But as much as Yoongi understands Jungkook’s point-of-view, he can’t deny how much it hurts. With time, Yoongi hopes he can stitch together the rip in his broken heart.