Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"The townspeople lived in mortal terror—

Who was sick or dying? Who will be stricken tomorrow?"

Sirens. 

Ringing so loud in the damp, oppressive air of the night that the sound itself seemed palpable, nearly visible as it echoed around the city’s creaks and crannies.  

THIS IS THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE NIGHTLY CURFEW… YOU HAVE 2 MINUTES…

“Fuck,” Jimin cursed, audibly upset. He had a tight grip on Jungkook’s arm, ushering him forward with little gentleness. “We need to hurry. This can’t keep happening, Jungkook.” 

“I know,” Jungkook muttered, choking in his own nervousness. “I’m sorry, hyung.” 

A disappointed sigh squeezed itself out of the fine line of Jimin’s pursed lips. He didn’t respond, and simply continued to drag Jungkook across by the elbow through the few bloks left until they got home. 

The sirens wailed, echoing through their bones as they ventured from the chaotic streets into the dim alley linking the main avenue to their apartment building. They were far from being the only ones running late, but Jungkook knew pointing it out would be futile. Jimin was already pissed off enough with him. 

"Good evening, gentlemen," someone called out from behind them. The harsh white beam of a flashlight illuminated their backs, elongating their silhouettes to an almost inhuman height on the littered, grimy ground.

Other latecomers took the opportunity to sneak away from the light, disappearing into the shadows, the sound of sneakers and high-heeled boots echoing in the dingy space. Jimin let out another curse, this time muttered under his breath. "Late again, I see?"

Officer Renfield was a tall, stocky man whose voice belied his outward appearance. His words sounded squeezed out of him, as if the very act of speaking caused him enormous effort. 

And maybe it did, Jungkook thought, unable to keep his disdain for the man out of his mind. Ever since the curfews began, Renfield seemed to take a perverse, personal delight in harassing them.

Well, "them"...

"Yes, Officer Renfield, we apologize," Jimin chimed in, peering up at the officer from beneath his lashes. If Jungkook didn't know his best friend so well, he would have believed this shy-minx act. "Boss kept us working late again, you know how it is."

Oh, Park Jimin, the devil incarnate.

Jungkook fought the urge to roll his eyes when Officer Renfield, on the receiving end of Jimin’s purposely sultry eyes, nearly bent over backwards in his eagerness to appease him, lowering his flashlight.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Park,” the man said, a beefy hand gesticulating in the air to punctuate his words. He seemed seconds away from pulling Jimin out of Jungkook’s grasp and into his own arms. “I know a hard worker like yourself would never leave your boss and patrons unattended. But you should still be careful. You never know who’s lurking in the dark these days.” 

"Of course, what do you take me for?" Jimin giggled, acting offended. A visible bead of sweat formed beneath Officer Renfield’s brow.

Though swayed by Jimin's presence, Jungkook noticed the officer repeatedly checking his wristwatch.

"Anyway, thank you, officer," Jimin continued, keenly aware of the passing time. "You're always so attentive. Jungkook and I will hurry home now."

“Oh,” Officer Renfield said, as if he were just then noticing Jungkook's presence, as if his earlier greeting had excluded him. "Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Why are you allowing your friend to roam outside this late? Shouldn't you be helping out at the bar too?"

Jungkook huffed. 

“He does, sir,” Jimin explained, laughing bashfully. His hand on Jungkook’s elbow squeezed impossibly tight. “Everyone works well. Again, you don’t have to worry.”

Officer Renfield hummed, shining the flashlight directly in Jungkook's face, scrutinizing his appearance curiously.

Jungkook knew what the man saw. Tattoos and piercings, heavy combat boots and leather jackets. A picture-perfect delinquent, miles away from Jimin’s classy, put-together style. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Won’t happen again,” Jungkook said, and even bowed his head, trying to appeal to the man’s enormous ego.

He just wanted to go. He just wanted that damn light out of his face. 

The officer hummed again, visibly displeased but also growing wary as the minutes ticked away. The city had been under a strict regime for four long months now, and not even enforcers like him were exempt from its suffocating grip.

"I’ll leave now," Officer Renfield stated, and Jungkook fought the urge to exhale in relief.

Jimin's hand relaxed its grip on him ever so slightly.

"But don't let me catch you out so late again, or I mightn't let go so easily. At least, not without... incentive."

The insinuation is clear in the man’s words, so without much concern for further pleasantries, they promptly turned their backs and entered the darkness of the alleyway once more.

\

It started with animals. 

Someone’s cat disappearing, and then a dog. Not long after, the symphony of crying children and lonely people became a common sound in the early morning. 

The occurrences evolved quickly, almost as if following a natural development of disaster, each victim larger and more significant than the next. Eventually, there were no vanishing acts.

Instead, the corpses were left behind to be found.

Sheep. Cattle. Horses.

People.

Jungkook wishes he could say he was surprised when the first dead body appeared. He wasn't. He knew they'd come. 

And despite the predictability, the morning news still made him feel helpless. The city was cursed, and there was nothing else to do. There was nowhere to hide. One just had to wait for their turn, and it would come.

Oh, and there was an odd, unnamed new-drug running around too. 

Nobody knew where to find it, or how exactly it made its way into the eager hands of the local junkies, but it made those poor people look as if life was sucked right out of them. Their skin was sensitive, their faces sunken, and their eyes bloodshot. They looked either permanently shocked or endlessly in pain, or maybe both.

They're nonverbal most of the time, interacting minimally through gibberish and off-hand grumbles about 'the phantoms'. Whatever that means.

It wasn't as if the city was unused with drugs or criminality. In fact, Jungkook knows that kids often joke about how they all live in real-life Gotham, except that there's no billionaire in a bat suit delivering vigilante justice out there in the streets. People just went about their lives, hoping to see the morning sun the next day. Most people hopefully did, but an estaggering amount didn't, challenging the 'norm' that they've become used to after years in this place.

So, yes, people were used to getting mugged on their way back home from work, or to finding their neighbour passed-out in the alleys in the morning. Still, there was something different about everything these days. Something targeted. 

Curfews effectively started by peer pressure from anxious citizens. The mayor refused to acknowledge that the situation had spiraled beyond his control, so people, Jungkook included, took matters into their own hands. For the most part, the mayor remained unyielding.

It wasn't until his daughter was discovered lifeless in her bed one morning that he finally took action. 

It was too late for her then. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, swallowing yet another painkiller to dull the tension headache that was starting to throb across his forehead. He’s been doing an impressive job of ignoring Jimin's incessant staring, but now he’s teetering on the edge of his patience. What, exactly, does Jimin expect from him anyway?

“I have already apologized, Jimin hyung.” 

Jimin huffs, unimpressed. “Well, I’m still waiting for it to be honest.” 

Jungkook resists the temptation to sigh again, not wanting to further upset Jimin. He's aware that he's at fault, acknowledges his stubbornness, but it's not as if he can control it. He didn't intend to make a habit of staying out past curfew every Friday, it just happened. It was a consequence, not the desired action itself.

In an effort to diffuse the situation, Jungkook opts for silence. He moves around their small wooden table to pour himself another cup of coffee, keeping his head low.

"Listen," Jimin begins, in a tone that Jungkook immediately recognizes. Jungkook opens his mouth to interject, but Jimin silences him with his laser eyes. "I know how much you love singing, honey. And I know Friday nights are special to you, but I'm worried."

“Jeez”, Jungkook grumbles, upset. “It’s not all that, hyung,” he lies.  

“Isn’t it?” Jimin sighs, mostly to himself.

The last disappearance happened a couple of nights ago, a young woman who used to live in the same apartment complex as them. Jungkook didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice. She always wished him good morning when they crossed paths. Her name was Ellen, and she had a young daughter who was only 12 years old. 

Even Officer Renfield, the bane of Jungkook’s existence, failed to report for duty the very same night he ambushed them, and another agent was assigned to patrol their neighborhood in his stead. This new officer, at least, appeared to be much more decent.

As for Officer Renfield, they never heard of or saw him again.

Jungkook wasn’t too upset about that, though. Good fucking riddance.

Nowadays, it’s virtually impossible to walk outside without bumping into at least one of those junkies every few steps. People have taken to calling them Dawners.

While generally harmless, the junkies make Jungkook uneasy, as if there’s something seriously amiss with them beyond the surface. They look half-dead, yet trapped in an endless state of euphoria. Looking at them for too long is unsettling. Their dazed expressions, garbled words, and distant look in their eyes a bit too uncomfortable to see. In a twisted way, it’s almost inviting. Jungkook wishes he could detach himself from this ongoing nightmare too, leave behind this shithole of a city. 

Jungkook is growing tired of the secrets, the violence and the unease that has his life chained in place. He feels as if something’s hovering just beneath his awareness, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly out of reach. Like the truth is close enough to breathe down the nape of his neck but everytime he turns around to face it, all he can see is his own shadow.

All of that, and the feeling of being under surveillance all the time gets under his skin. The incessant wail of sirens and the nagging presence of perverted police officers piss him off, more so than he anticipated. More than ever before.

Not even Fridays were the same anymore. While people still ventured out, seeking a drink in the chill of the evening while enjoying live music, the packed houses of the once-busiest night of the week became a thing of the past. Boss wasn't even sure how much longer they could sustain the business without going completely bankrupt.

After all, people need to make their nights out worth it this time. And that excluded their modest hole-in-the-wall in favor of the trendier hipster bars with neon lights, youthful vibes and “Instagrammable” decor. 

Four months of this. And they didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. 

“Well, life goes on while it still can, right? So I’m out of here,” Jimin says, throwing his yellow backpack over his shoulders and keeping Jungkook from going completely down memory lane. “I have some stuff to do before getting to work.” 

“What stuff?” Jungkook asks, more than half interested. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “See you later. Don’t be late.” 

Jungkook hums in reply, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. As the door closes behind Jimin, Jungkook feels dread seeping into the emptiness of their modest, shared apartment.

These days, there’s nothing he hates more than the feeling of being alone. 'Is it loneliness or solitude?', the endless debate. 

Maybe they should get a cat. Hopefully they won't wake up in the morning to find its dead, furry little body waiting for them on the porch. The thought is so ridiculous and morbid that it inappropriately makes Jungkook want to laugh. 

“What a nightmare,” Jungkook mutters to himself, not for the first time. 

But as Jimin said, life goes on while it still can… right?

\

At the start of his shift on the following Friday night, Jungkook is greeted by the sight of Boss, jeans hanging low on his hips, half his ass-crack out, and torso completely sprawled across the bar. “Evening,” Boss grumbles, drunk out of his mind already. 

Four months is all it took for Boss to kick the bucket and shove his 3 years of soberness down his gullet again.  

“Good evening, Boss,” Jungkook sighs, feeling as if his bones suddenly weigh double his size, as if he was carrying a second Jungkook on his back—the one that still believed there was something special waiting for him out there in the world.

Another neighbor of theirs became a Dawner. And Jungkook still didn’t get a cat. 

“Jimin’s here already?”

Hiccuping, Boss just points in the general direction of the back of the building where they usually keep their barrels of liquor, wine and other supplies. Boss seems to be on the verge of being blackout drunk, so Jungkook just goes without a word.

As expected, the bar is empty—a far cry from its four-month-gone golden days. On Friday nights such as this, they’d usually open the house with a considerable line of people waiting up front, brimming with need to get a good drink for the cheap. It was hard work, but it was fun. The hours passed by quickly, Jungkook and Jimin serving tables like second nature. 

Live music was a Friday night staple, so the place used to be packed with regulars and the occasional tourist visiting the city to explore the abandoned gothic castles, churches, and mausoleums to the north of town.

Jungkook missed them. Even the obnoxious, plastic Karens that would show up sometimes. It’d be a sight for sore eyes if one of them were to show up right now. 

“Jungkookie,” Jimin calls, and an unease that Jungkook didn’t even know he was feeling unknots from his stomach. “I’ve got the guitar ready for you by the stage. Quincey isn’t coming tonight, so you’ll be on your own.” 

Jungkook sighs, nodding. He gives his best friend a hello pat on the shoulder when the other walks by, which makes Jimin smile up at him fondly. An understanding silently goes between them.

I’m glad to see you again. 

“Let’s get to work.” 

\

There’s 3 hours left until curfew starts.

A small group of people trickled in around 8 pm, avidly downing mugs of cold beer and multiple shots of whisky since their arrival, their conversation and occasional laughter a welcome sound.

Jungkook had been lost in his guitar for a couple of hours now, lost in his little world where only music matters. A world without any sound except the echo of his voice bouncing off the empty tables, the aged wood of the bar's pillars and the creaking cabinets.

The sensation of his calloused fingers strumming the chords, creating something beautiful out of nothing at all, consumes him entirely. This is what he’s good at.

These intangible emotions are the only things in the world that makes Jungkook feel present, that feels real beneath his fingertips. This is the only way he can feel alive.

Jungkook sings of love he has never felt before, a kind of attraction unknown to him.

It is true that he loves—completely, and thoroughly. Music. Writing. His best friend. His tattoos. Even his job.

After all, Jungkook has never half-assed anything in his life. He gives himself out wholly. 

But this love he sings of is different. It’s full of romance, desire, of intent to touch, to be closer and closer until the space between two bodies is nothing but technicality. The love Jungkook sings of is the type of love that breaks through reality. That turns the mundane into magic.

It’s a kind of love and want that Jungkook has never felt before. But sometimes, he wonders. 

What if? What then?

There’s a man across the stage that’s been studying him for over half an hour. 

Jungkook doesn’t remember seeing him in the bar before, thinks that he’d definitely remember if he did. The man doesn’t seem like someone you could forget. The stranger has a quiet, steady presence—still, nobody else but Jungkook seems to have noticed him, not even Jimin and his ever attentive eye, if the man’s lack of a drink is anything to go by. 

The stranger’s age seems to hover wide between his early twenties and thirties, a combination of features that shouldn't make sense but contribute to an oddly ethereal, ageless appearance. He is sharp yet soft, angular yet round, beautiful yet peculiar.

Jungkook's attention had been instantly drawn to the man when he entered. There was a certain grace in his movements that hinted at a well-to-do background, an unusual sight in their humble setting.

The bar was technically an inn, but since none of the upstairs rooms were available to anyone except Boss and his one-night-stands, they referred to it exclusively as a bar to avoid having to explain the situation to anyone seeking lodging for the night.

The place was kept decent solely by Jimin’s fierce leadership, and Jungkook’s steadfast determination. They had considerable freedom to make decisions for the business, and Boss rarely questioned their choices, wisely trusting in their abilities, which was the very thing keeping the place afloat.

A man this elegant would never dirty the bottoms of his expensive shoes in a place like this. And yet, there he was. 

There’s modest applause when Jungkook finally rests the guitar by his side. 

The boisterous group of friends appears too far gone to notice, but a couple of them still manage to muster enough clarity to applaud when he announces that tonight's performance is over. Jimin's loud cheers and whistles accompany their clapping, which Jungkook appreciates. He first bows to the pair, quietly thankful, and then to his best friend, with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Jimin's laughter resonates loudly enough to warm up Jungkook's chest.

If nothing else, they have each other.

Jungkook nearly forgets about the stranger's presence, but a discreet glance confirms that the man is still there, studying him with a regal, unreadable expression that carries a hint of contemplation. When their eyes meet, the man's small mouth curls slightly at the corners in recognition.

For the first time in his albeit short life, Jungkook desires something other than a transactional interaction. He wants a conversation. He feels a kind of curiosity that’s almost childlike in its ability to overpower his better judgment.

After all, why would a man like this be here, especially given the current circumstances? With Death lurking down the street, why would someone take the time to get to know the local, on-the-brink-of-bankruptcy vintage bar?

Jungkook wants to know. 

"Who's that?" Jimin's sudden approach startles him, and he does his best to ignore his friend's teasing giggles.

Jungkook must’ve been staring back at the man like a weirdo for who knows how long. “I don’t know,” he says, after the stranger averts his gaze. “He arrived before I got up on stage.” 

A few minutes earlier, to be exact. 

"Oh," Jimin takes in the man's presence with an unreadable expression that makes Jungkook feel a little out of the loop, but he continues to speak before Jungkook can point it out. "I'll go check if he needs anything."

“No!” Jungkook interrupts, too loud in the empty space. The man can obviously hear them talking about him, but pretends not to. 

It’s almost as if the stranger's silent presence is inviting Jungkook into his atmosphere. Almost as if the man is there exclusively for him . 

Which is ridiculous, because Jungkook has never met him before, he’s sure of it. 

“I’ll… I’ll take his order. Don’t worry about it.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin worries, but is swiftly silenced by a wave of Jungkook’s hand.

With a huff, Jimin lifts both his palms up in mock surrender. “Be my guest then,” he says, a bit reluctantly.

The stranger's eyes are on him the whole time as Jungkook makes his way through the half-empty bar. The intensity of his gaze is almost palpable, and Jungkook thinks that if he stays under it a little longer, he'll be able to feel it on his skin. It's an unusual sensation, but then again, everything about this man seems extraordinary to Jungkook. 

"Hello, stranger," Jungkook greets politely, bowing his head. 

Up close, the man appears even more surreal. His alabaster skin is flawless, his hair full and shiny, and his clothes pristine. In every aspect, the man appears absolutely perfect.

"I'm Jungkook, a server at the bar and an occasional lounge singer. I hope you're having a good evening."

“Hello, Jungkook-ssi,” the man says, and something inside Jungkook’s stomach coils tightly at the sound of his voice.

It's undeniably deep, yet 'deep' feels too simple-minded to use. His voice is sweet, melodic, and manly. It makes the hair on the back of Jungkook's neck stand up.

“I am having a good night,” the man continues, seemingly unaware of the effect his voice is causing on Jungkook’s body. “My name is Min Yoongi.” 

Min Yoongi.

A beautiful name for an even more beautiful face. 

Jungkook clears his throat. “I—I don’t remember seeing you here before.”

Yoongi hums, and the serene expression on his face gives way to that earlier smile, the corners of his mouth curling up. "I've frequented this place many times. You just hadn't noticed me."

“That’s impossible,” Jungkook huffs, offended. "I'm one of just two employees here, I would have remembered you." 

Jungkook wants to roll his eyes. How could he not notice someone with that face?

“Besides, you seem like a difficult person not to notice.” 

Yoongi shrugs, amused by Jungkook's reaction. He doesn't contest Jungkook's claim, but appears firm about his presence at the bar before.

"I keep to myself," Yoongi explains, sensing Jungkook's confusion. "That's why it's easy to go unnoticed. Don't worry, Jungkook-ssi, I'm not offended."

Yoongi’s tone isn’t coddling, but it gives Jungkook the feeling that he's deliberately being put at ease.

“Well,” Jungkook hesitates, feeling shy. Those brown eyes on him makes Jungkook feel small. "Would you like to order anything, sir?"

Yoongi hums, shifting his gaze toward the wine barrels, whisky bottles, and various other spirits displayed behind the bar. While he surveys the options, Jungkook discreetly sizes him up.

He's clearly rich, though not obscenely so. A businessman? The city isn't too far from the nearest metropolis, just an hour away on a good traffic day, so that's entirely possible. Maybe he commutes back and forth daily?

It's not an uncommon practice. Many people do it, apparently. Most job opportunities are on the mainland, but the cost of living is much cheaper here.

At least, it is when you don't end up getting kidnapped or murdered halfway through the night. Some people don’t mind taking the risk, most don’t have any other choice. 

“Hm, I think I’ve had my fill for tonight,” Yoongi concludes, even though Jungkook doesn't spot any empty bottles or glasses nearby. “You are a good singer. Very talented.”

"Thank you," Jungkook replies, surprised by the compliment, but pleased. "I could have done better, though. I missed some of the lyrics, but I suppose it was alright."

"Not just alright," Yoongi’s brows furrow in disapproval. "Wonderful."

Jungkook feels a tingling sensation run through his whole body, like he's being electrified. He doubts that he'll be able to find his voice anytime soon, so he just bows at the waist in gratitude.

Yoongi looks a bit bothered by how easily Jungkook criticizes himself, but he accepts the gesture by bowing back while still seated.

“You know, I almost forgot just how nice it is to speak with someone new,” Yoongi keeps his gaze stuck to Jungkook’s face. He has an odd way of speaking. Old-fashioned, but still approachable. It’s nice. “Would you like to sit? We still have a few hours to spare.”

Jungkook considers the offer, silently squirming in place. He must look ridiculous with his arms hanging limply on his sides like a character awaiting command, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, waiting for him to decide all serene-eyed and inviting.

What's the worst that could happen?

Jungkook can't recall the last time he spoke to someone other than Jimin. Boss doesn't count as most days, the old hag is too out of it to contribute to a half-decent conversation, and interactions with the occasional patron are merely work-related, transactional exchanges.

Speaking to a stranger about something other than "What would you like to drink?" or "It's closing time, friend, curfew is starting" feels like a breath of fresh air. If Jungkook's first impression of Yoongi is accurate, the man appears to be cool, in a calm and collected way.

And… well. He’s very attractive too. 

Jungkook coughs, steering his thoughts away from that particular lane. 

Wait. 

“Oh, shit. Jimin!” Jungkook remembers his best friend’s existence for the first time since approaching Yoongi. “I’m sorry, I—” 

Jungkook apologizes, looking over his shoulder and trying to find Jimin’s figure somewhere. He easily finds the other man still behind the bar, washing the dishes with a furrow between his brows. “Maybe I should go back to help him?” 

Jungkook didn’t intend for it to sound like a question, but it does. He really doesn’t want to go back. 

After a moment, Jimin's sixth sense seems to alert him about nearby gossip, and he swiftly raises his head and locks eyes with him. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, silently asking his best friend if everything is alright. Jimin makes a face in response, as if asking “The hell you’re looking at ?”, and Jungkook relaxes. Yeah, Jimin’s fine, if a little iffy.

As Jungkook turns to face Yoongi again, the man's gaze is fixed on him, a hint of intensity shimmering in his features. At Jungkook’s sound of surprise, Yoongi's naturally gentle, if a touch blank, resting face quickly takes over.

“You seem close,” Yoongi says, having witnessed the silent interaction. “You’ve known each other for many years?”

Yoongi gestures at the vacant chair again and finally, giving in to his curiosity, Jungkook accepts the invitation. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he takes a seat, realizing how much his feet hurt. As he catches a glimpse of Yoongi's contented expression, he notices that the man has reclined comfortably in his chair.

And Jungkook talks. A lot. About his childhood and growing up with Jimin in Busan, how they used to collect little shells from each beach they went to, which he still keeps as a token from happier days. It really does feel refreshing, speaking to someone new and sharing something about himself. Small moments from the past, memories that he has not revisited for many years. 

It feels especially nice to speak with someone who doesn’t know him, doesn’t expect anything from him, and takes in what he says at face value. It’s as if a blank canvas has been presented to him to paint and create.

Min Yoongi is a good conversationalist, perfectly responsive, humming in interest and nodding along to Jungkook’s rambling, welcoming his eagerness and nonsense with a patient smile. 

Yoongi’s teeth are small and square. Very pretty.

“Um,” Jungkook hiccups, lowering his mug of beer. Halfway through his monologue, he called in Jimin to ask for something to drink. The exasperated look on his best friend’s face when he did made Jungkook nearly double over in giggles, much to Yoongi’s amusement. “I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi. Um.”

“Why are you sorry?” Yoongi leans in slightly, one of his hands reaching across the table to rest near his own half-empty glass of whisky, which Jimin brought as per Yoongi’s request. 

Jungkook squirms in place, lowering his head. He doesn’t know why this man makes him so nervous. “I won’t stop talking about myself. It’s just… it’s been a long time.” 

Yoongi hums, seemingly deep in thought for a moment. His sharp eyes shine curiously under the cozy, warm-toned LED lights. “Have you been lonely?”

Yes. Jungkook has been so, so lonely, and it feels like sin to even admit it. He has a job he enjoys, a best friend he would die for, and so much uncontained passion. 

And yet, he’s lonely. As if he’s been walking this world aimlessly, like a ghost, a husk of something that should’ve-could’ve been. No different than the Dawners roaming the streets, no different than the bodies left behind in the morning. Jungkook only feels alive behind the microphone, when people have no choice but to hear him. When they can’t escape his presence.

It’s like he's the only person reaching across the emptiness towards something, anything, that could make all of this feel real. Jungkook is the only one who makes a fucking effort. All his life has been like this. 

Nothing comes to him. Nothing longs for him. Nobody does. Jungkook’s always the one giving.

“You have, haven’t you?” 

Yoongi’s graceful fingers fit under Jungkook’s chin, gently goading him into locking eyes. His skin feels cool against the warmth of Jungkook's face, likely due to the chilled whisky glass. Jungkook doesn't mind, as the cold touch provides relief from the heat coursing beneath his skin.

Yoongi’s expression is tender when Jungkook reluctantly looks at him. “I don’t even know you. We don’t—we don’t know each other,” is what he ends up saying. Stupid.

Yoongi’s answering laughter goes straight to Jungkook’s belly, making his guts coil like snakes.

Why does he feel like this? 

Jungkook feels like his nerves are exposed to the open air. He doesn’t understand his reactions, his thoughts, and his emotions. He doesn’t even know this man. 

“Forgive me, I’m a little drunk. But I would like to get to know you,” Yoongi admits, appearing both embarrassed and surprised by his own confidence. “I fear I… have been lonely too.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles, his mouth hardly moving in his mortification. Yoongi confirms with a nod. “Um. I guess we met at the perfect moment then.”

“I guess so,” Yoongi says, and clears his throat when he realizes he’s still holding Jungkook’s face between his fingers. He carefully pulls his touch from Jungkook’s chin. 

“Lucky me,” Jungkook quips.

Yoongi hums. "Lucky you."

“So. What about you?”

“What would you like to know?” Yoongi leans back, making Jungkook realize then just how close they’ve gotten.

His empty beer mug condensates quietly between them, staining the table’s chipped, wooden surface. The sight is a bit funny to him for some reason, so Jungkook touches the chilled water with a curious finger, mindlessly drawing figure eights and rounded shapes on the table’s surface.

Yoongi's eyes curiously track the movements. 

“Just. Anything.” 

Everything, hopefully. 

So Yoongi tells him about his life. 

Jungkook’s previous assumptions of him were somewhat true. Yoongi does work in the neighboring city, a manager at a chaebol company of something too complicated for him to understand, and commutes back and forth. And despite that sounding awfully tiring, Yoongi doesn’t seem too preoccupied about it when Jungkook asks. 

Then again, Yoongi doesn’t seem to get preoccupied about anything. The man seems to be a perfectly rounded and collected human-being, which Jungkook likes… a lot. Yoongi has an answer for Jungkook’s every question and curiosity, and shares anecdotes about his own childhood, likes and dislikes, and hobbies.

Yoongi enjoys reading, writing, architecture, and Japanese mythology. He’s a musician, “Pianist, to be exact” , a poet and a younger brother. And when Jungkook fails to hide his appalled shivers at the fact he enjoys doing calculus to destress, Yoongi laughs for the first time. 

“You know, I’m surprised you didn’t move to the big city completely,” Jungkook comments, thoroughly invested in this enigma of a man.

Yoongi’s expression turns contemplative as he takes in Jungkook’s words, and a trace of sadness crosses his eyes.

At Jungkook’s slurred, inquisitive 'oing', the somberness softens somewhat. 

God. Jungkook’s drunk. 

“Yes,” Yoongi says. “It’s all very worrying. I did consider leaving the city but… I think not. Not for now.” 

“Too attached?” Jungkook asks, interested. 

Yoongi hums, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. “Yes. Very attached.” 

As Jungkook begins to respond, a sudden commotion behind him distracts his drunk-buzzed mind. He turns to see Jimin gently ushering away the small group of people who had been accompanying them for most of the night, aside from Yoongi himself. Even Boss reappears, though not entirely composed, emerging from behind the stage, near the staircase leading up to the inn's lodgings.

THIS IS THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE NIGHTLY CURFEW… YOU HAVE 30 MINUTES…

"Oh," Jungkook hadn't realized how quickly time had passed while chatting with Yoongi, their conversation flowing effortlessly. He feels a pang of guilt for leaving Jimin to handle things alone.

Moreover, a sense of melancholy starts to weigh on his chest, knowing he'll have to bid farewell to his new friend so soon. 

Jungkook turns back to find Yoongi still gazing at him, the same hint of intensity from before in his expression. The man must also feel saddened by having the night end so abruptly, and who knows, he might even be worried about the approaching curfew, dreading the uncertainty of what will be left to find in the morning.

"Curfew," Jungkook explains uselessly, and his shoulders droop in disappointment.

Something gloomy replaces the intensity in Yoongi's eyes. “Yes,” he sighs. “Curfew.”

Jungkook feels a bit awkward. He doesn’t want to leave Yoongi, but he also doesn’t want to make Jimin mad by sitting on his ass and not doing anything to help during closing. He knows damn well one of his best friend's favorite pastimes is to complain about him… to him.

Jungkook's also not looking forward to tomorrow's lecture on subpar workplace behavior and ethics or whatever fancy words Jimin decides to use to drive his point home.

“I should let you go,” Yoongi says, before Jungkook can come up with something other than the desperate, ridiculous, inappropriate ‘don’t gooooo’ ringing obnoxiously at the back of his head. “Please, forgive me for taking so much of your time. But I have to say I don’t regret it. It was great to speak to you.” 

“You’re so blunt,” Jungkook observes, quite bluntly himself. “I—I, yeah. Um. It was really great to meet you, sir.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” Yoongi dismisses him with an elegant wave of his hand. “You’ve told me all about your childhood collecting seashells in Busan with your best friend. I think we’re above formalities, no?”

Jungkook’s whole body feels hot. Yoongi sounds appreciative and hasn’t shown signs of being bothered by Jungkook’s monologue at all since they first met, and even encouraged him on it, but Jungkook still feels embarrassed by his eagerness.

Something must’ve shown in his face, because Yoongi is quick to cut in. 

“Please, don’t feel embarrassed. I said it was a pleasure, didn’t I?” Yoongi says, momentarily waiting for Jungkook’s nod of understanding before continuing. “I could listen to you speak for hours. I did, in fact.” 

“You spoke too,” Jungkook points out, feeling appeased by Yoongi’s easy-going, welcoming attitude. “I know all about your annoying colleagues.”

Yoongi grins, diverted. “Oh, there is much more to know.” 

Jungkook feels surprised by the intensity of his own curiosity. The longing to learn more about Yoongi has taken root within him since the very first moment he caught Yoongi's gaze from across the bar. It feels as if he's been woven into a web of intrigue. Maybe even of want.

“Will I see you again?” Jungkook asks on a whim, a sudden bravery being bolstered by the pleasant atmosphere and the urgent ticking of the clock that's determined to draw them further apart with each passing second.

“Yes,” Yoongi smiles. “You won’t be able to get rid of me now.” 

Jungkook laughs. “Fine by me,” he says, content. 

He feels so good. Buzzedbuzzedbuzzeddd inside. 

With a placated sigh, Yoongi gracefully uncrosses his legs and rises to his feet. Jungkook realizes then that was right about his height, he is shorter, but Yoongi’s posture and presence makes him look larger than life. Like the tallest man Jungkook has ever met.

Taking his cue, Jungkook too gets up, albeit a bit wobbly on his legs after downing his beer on an empty stomach. Yoongi makes a strange movement with his arm, as if keeping himself from reaching over and steadying him. There's a momentary look of concern on Yoongi's face.

“I’m alright,” Jungkook says, embarrassed. 

Yoongi nods in response. “Once again, it was a pleasure to speak to you, Jungkook. I will see you very soon.”

Yoongi’s hand feels firm and smooth on Jungkook’s unexpectedly smaller one, and the man’s skin is slightly cold to the touch. As Jungkook finally shakes Yoongi's hand, oddly appreciative of the endearing, old-fashioned way the man carries himself, their knuckles squeeze together as Jungkook's bulky silver rings come into contact with Yoongi's fingers.

The warm and inviting expression on Yoongi's face briefly tightens, and a flicker of discomfort flashes through his eyes.

“Bye,” Jungkook says, though his farewell comes out a tad awkward. He knows it hurts to get hit in the knuckles by those rings, and Yoongi's hand is so bony too.

Jungkook feels the need to apologize again. 

But before he can do just that, Yoongi's face clears, and the man lets out a chuckle. Yoongi doesn't utter a word, simply nods and raises a hand in parting. He leaves as gracefully as he arrived, his steps sure and seamless, blending effortlessly with his surroundings. “Keeping to himself”, as he said it. 

Jimin watches him go, briefly stilling the broom he was furiously sweeping over a wine stain on the wooden floors. Jungkook has told him time and time again just won’t go away, Jimin hyung , but Jimin might just be the most stubborn person he has ever met. 

When Yoongi approaches Jimin by the door, Jungkook sees the momentary look exchanged between them. 

Yoongi, inviting and respectful. Jimin, polite but intimidated. Curious.

As Yoongi steps out the door, his long black coat flutters in the chilly air, and if Jungkook could paint, he'd definitely immortalize this moment. Yoongi looks like a book character come to life, directly from one of those stories of regal, god-like monarchs with the world at their feet. It's both gorgeous and intriguing. 

Yoongi visibly takes a deep breath, inhaling the sharp scent of the cold with such intensity that the man's body visibly vibrates. 

Jungkook watches, entranced, as Yoongi disappears into the night as if he had never been there at all.

\

Jimin is staring at the back of his head. 

This time, Jungkook doesn’t conceal the desire to sigh, exasperated. “Really, hyung?”

“I just never, and I mean never, saw you behave like that,” Jimin huffs, visibly annoyed at Jungkook’s reluctance to entertain his musings. 

Jungkook sighs again, aggravated. All he wants is to enjoy his coffee in the morning, is that too much to ask? He has a killer headache too, a consequence of drinking on an empty stomach. 

“And what is ‘that’, exactly?” Jungkook asks, finally relenting and turning around to meet his best friend’s eyes. Jimin looks unimpressed. 

“Talkative,” Jimin explains, and his expression turns serious. “Immersed.” 

Jungkook feels warm under his skin, and he knows for sure that he must be blushing. It is true that something came over him last night.

Or someone, his subconscious corrects, taking over the reins of his thoughts, defying the steering away Jungkook has been trying to do since waking up a few hours ago, feeling as if he had aged a thousand years in a single night.

There was something about Yoongi.

Jungkook couldn't say what it was. Something about Yoongi's behavior, the antiquated lilt in his speech, and his graceful manners. Something about the look in his sharp, attentive eyes when he looked at Jungkook. Something about the way he made Jungkook feel seen, heard. Even interesting, which Jungkook is embarrassed to admit. 

He never thought of himself as someone interesting. A hard worker, a passionate singer, a considerate friend, an attractive young man, when he was feeling kinder to himself. But interesting? Absolutely not. 

Still, Yoongi made him feel that way. 

The man seemed to be absorbed in everything Jungkook had to say, seemed to be invested in his memories, opinions and hobbies.

And Jungkook knew for sure that he responded in kind. Yoongi was the most interesting person he had ever met. Even the most mundane anecdotes about the man's life, his office job, his daily commute to work, and his colleagues took Jungkook's breath away.

Yoongi talks about everything as if it really matters. As if all the time spent living and breathing is precious. As if even the sad, lonely Friday nights deserve to be remembered.

Yoongi shares fun, historical facts about whisky, “Did you know that Scotch whisky can only be called Scotch whisky if it’s left in casks in Scotland for over 3 years? ”.

Yoongi likes to read Brazilian literature, “Have you ever read the works of Machado de Assis? A very gifted man, that one was”.

Yoongi is passionate about music, “My favorite art form, which is why I especially enjoyed your voice.”

So, yes, Jungkook was talkative with him. And coy. And immersed. Because there is something about Yoongi that makes him feel. There is something about Yoongi that invites Jungkook into his orbit, and all he wants is more. 

And that face…

"I knew you were only pretending to work," Jungkook sighs, quickly turning his thoughts away from this route. "And there I was, worrying about you for nothing."

"Oh yeah," Jimin huffs and rolls his eyes. "You did seem worried." 

"Shut up, hyung," Jungkook complains, a little sharper than intended, ignoring Jimin's raised eyebrow. "It was just... I don't know what it was, okay? It was just nice to talk to someone new. You don't have to interrogate me about it."

Jimin hums, and his eyebrows furrow a little. Jungkook hates to upset his friend, mainly because Jimin goes full helicopter parent when he's upset, but also because Jungkook's not a child. He appreciates it, but he doesn't want to be coddled. And maybe that's selfish in view of their new dangerous, uncertain reality, but that's just the way it is. Jungkook can't control how he feels. Just like he can't control how others make him feel. 

The only thing Jungkook can control is how he reacts to all of this, which is why, after a brief moment of silence, he says with a sigh, "I know you worry, hyung. I worry too. But I promise there was nothing weird about it. He complimented me on my singing and we sort of went from there".

Jimin contemplates for a moment. "I know, honey," he looks burdened. "I don't want to smother you. It's just… I don't know. There was something about him."

"I know." 

"Hm,” Jimin murmurs, taking in Jungkook’s expression. “That was not what I was expecting. The look on your face just now, I mean." 

"What look?" Jungkook asks. 

Jimin doesn't answer, but gives Jungkook the most stupid, ridiculous, googly-eyed look he's ever seen. Jimin even raises his little hands and places them on his chest, over his heart, and sighs dreamily in what can only be described as a clear imitation of a Regency-era maiden who sees the strong, virile soldier who is the object of her teenage affections arrive in town. 

"Oh, Papa, look! My soldier. Do you think he will ask me for the ball?"

It's a pitch-perfect imitation of Lydia or Kitty Bennet. 

Jungkook curses, offended. "What the fuck, hyung? I don't look nor sound like that”.

"Yes, you do," Jimin heaves, breathless with laughter. "That's the way you were looking at him last night too."

"Fuck you," says Jungkook, hiding his embarrassment with feigned anger. He feels like he's being made fun of, which is exactly what is happening, but Jimin doesn't have to be so mean about it.

It's only when Jungkook crosses the small table and quietly begins to wash his cup and plates that Jimin's voice breaks the silence. "You know, I don't know how you managed to sit there with him for so long, and come that close."

Jimin's voice sounds strange, as if he's suddenly talking out loud to himself and Jungkook just happens to be in the room with him. It's so different from the teasing, slightly annoyed tone from before that it takes Jungkook by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"When I saw him sitting there, everything inside me told me to get away from him,” Jimin explains. “Do you know those nature shows you used to love? When there’s a predator surrounding a herd of like, deer or something, and the deer can tell something’s up and keep looking around with their little eyes and their skinny butt?”

“That’s just—” Jungkook begins, and doesn’t even know where to go from there. “That’s an insane comparison, hyung.”

Jimin raises his hands, surrendering. Jungkook knows better, though. He has known Jimin for years, his entire life. Something about Yoongi has Jimin on edge, but then again, it also has Jungkook on edge. Just… in a different way. 

Jungkook shakes his head, horrified by his own thoughts. He sounds obsessed. He just met the man, not even 24 hours ago. They only spoke for a few hours, and although Yoongi promised to return to the bar soon, Jungkook can never be sure that he'll see the man again. What kind of worth does a stranger's promise have in any way? 

For all he knows, Yoongi may have just been bored and decided to strike up a conversation with the first person who approached him. Who knows, if Jimin had been the one to approach him, Jimin might have been the one to sit there for hours, exchanging memories and laughing together. Jungkook is nothing special. He was just there.

There's a knock on the door. 

It's so sudden that Jungkook almost drops the dishes he's been washing and jumps out of his skin. There's commotion behind him when Jimin stands up ramrod straight, staring at the door with caution. "Are you expecting someone?"

"When the fuck am I ever expecting someone?" Jungkook asks through pursed lips and stares at Jimin as if he had grown a second head. 

Jimin rolls his eyes, mumbles a "Fucking homebody" under his breath and deftly dodges Jungkook's answering slap, his lithe body moving like a snake across the squeaky clean tiles to the front door. On his tiptoes, Jimin peeks through the peephole. "Who is it?"

"Police," a male voice says, sounding tired but patient. 

"Police?" Jungkook whispers desperately. 

Jimin gives him a worried look, and opens the door.

The man behind it seems to be in his late thirties, pale and frail looking, with a mustache that covers most of his face. Jungkook recognizes him as the man who replaced Officer Renfield for patrolling their neighborhood, and his body relaxes slightly, relieved that at least it's not a complete stranger. 

"Good morning, gentlemen," the man nods. "Sorry to disturb you. I'd just like to ask you a couple of questions about the disappearance of your neighbor, Ellen Hutter."

“Oh, I—of course. Do you want to come in?” Jimin asks, immediately serious and anxious. Jungkook feels much the same way. 

Over a lukewarm cup of coffee, they answer the officer's questions. Jungkook assumed that the man would separate the two of them, at least that was what he was used to seeing in Criminal Minds, but apparently the man found it unnecessary. This was all formality, after all. They knew what had happened to Ellen. She was dead. 

The man, Officer Moritz, needlessly explains that Ellen's disappearance is linked to a series of previous disappearances, deaths and attacks that have occurred in their town over the past few months.

The police have been mapping out the cases, trying to find connections between the victims and their families, as well as the suspects, and that every possible clue is precious in keeping their community safe. The duo haven’t been singled out, and that all residents of this specific block will be questioned about what they know. 

Jungkook immediately realizes that the police also have no idea what the hell is going on either. And if they do, they certainly won't share what they have. At least the low-ranking officers like Officer Moritz don't have any important information about anything. They are pawns, just like Jungkook and Jimin, left to fend for themselves. 

“I’ll leave you now, kids,” the officer remarks, and Jungkook can't help but find it amusing how the man has shifted from addressing them as 'gentlemen' to 'kids. “Thank you for your time, and please let me know if you hear or see anything strange.”

Officer Moritz slides a card across the table, and Jimin promptly tucks it into his pocket, assuming the role of the older and responsible friend without delay. Jungkook does his best not to take offense.

“Officer Moritz,” Jungkook calls out when the man is halfway to the door. "Do you have any personal guesses on what's happening?"

The officer studies Jungkook for a moment, a somber shadow passing over his fatigued face. "Let's just hope I'm mistaken, Mr. Jeon."

With those words, the officer makes his exit, crossing the threshold. The sound of the door closing behind him feels almost final. 

Jungkook shares a long, wordless look with Jimin. They have nothing else to say. 

\

It's a sunny Saturday. 

Unlike the unrelenting cold of the night before, this morning feels warm and inviting. Jungkook really likes the sun, the feeling of it on his skin, the way it caresses and embraces his being like a warm lover. It's nice. 

He is in a surprisingly good mood and not even the occasional Dawner bumping into him left and right bothers him as much as usual. Despite Officer Moritz' gloomy presence and even gloomier words, and Jungkook's desire to leave the house right after the man, desperately trying to clear his thoughts, the memories of last night bring a lightness to Jungkook's feet that he can't ignore.

He remembers the feeling of singing his heart out all alone on that stage, doing the one thing he has never fallen out of love with. Doing what he was made for. All of that while under the appreciative gaze of a very attractive man. 

Jungkook giggles, diverted by his own silliness. He's acting like such a loser, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush and daydreaming about the man he spoke with for a couple of hours at a house party.

What will become of him if he doesn't stop obsessing and psychoanalyzing every single interaction with Yoongi in the future?

He sighs, suddenly pondering. Jungkook desperately wants to know more. Wants to peel back the layers, wants to be let in. Is that really so bad? 

Jimin's reluctance has taken its toll on him and Jungkook can't help but wonder what it is that his best friend sees in Yoongi that makes him so reluctant to trust him. It almost feels as if the very things that make him so fascinating to Jungkook make Jimin wary. How strange that is. How different people are, even if you've spent your whole life with them. 

Lethe looks pretty, flowing under the rays, and even the foam from the pollution and the less than nice smell become meaningless compared to her sight. The stool Jungkook is sitting on feels uncomfortably warm under him, but he almost doesn't mind because that's a sight. Lethe always dilutes his thoughts into a watery, soft humming at the back of his head. Its endless, pale waters flow much like the twists and turns of his mind, always going on and on and on, with no end in sight, all the way to oblivion. Lethe makes Jungkook feel small. 

There are so many things to see in this world. And everything goes, Jungkook tries to remind himself. Everything goes, just like thoughts. Just like Lethe. Just like death. It all goes.

Jungkook's almost meditative state is shaken by the feeling of being watched. It burns at the back of his neck, unlike the cozy warmth of the sun. It burns through his skin and bones, as if he's being set on fire. That's an unusual feeling here. Everyone's way too neck-deep into their own shit to waste time watching others.

It's a Dawner, staring at him from a few meters away. The woman doesn't even try to pretend that she isn't watching him, she just stands there, looking at him as if in a trance. Jungkook suppresses the urge to squirm. He knows she's harmless, like all Dawners, but still... it's that damned look again. As if she can see right through him. As if there's more to it. As if she knows.

"Hey," Jungkook says, leaving the stool and approaching the woman with careful steps so as not to frighten her. "Do you need help?"

"No," the woman answers, and Jungkook stops so suddenly that he almost trips over his own feet. She sounds completely aware of him. Unlike the dazed, far-away look in her eyes, her voice is calm and collected. "I don't need any help from you."

Jungkook squirms, unsure and feeling strangely inadequate under the woman's  gaze.

“What were you doing?” the woman asks, curious.

“Me?” Jungkook says, stupidly. The woman nods, wobbling on her feet. “Well, I was—I was thinking. Or trying not to. Lethe helps me clear my head.”  

The woman hums, looking at him with those strange eyes. When she speaks, it sounds as if it's delayed, as if she's reading the words in her head before uttering them. "You really are interesting."

"Where do you get it?" Jungkook asks, refusing to delve too deeply into the woman's words. This whole interaction just seems so bizarre to him. 

"Where do I get... what?" 

Jungkook tries not to be disrespectful. He doesn't think it needs to be explained, after all, Dawners must know what they are. Everyone does. And it's not like he's shaming her. He's just asking a question. "Whatever you take. Don't worry, I'm just curious," he adds. "You can tell me to piss off if you want."

Jungkook giggles awkwardly, touching his ears in embarrassment. The woman studies him for a long moment, seeming deep in thought. 

She makes a strange sight. Her skin is sickly pale and visibly damp, though obviously not from the heat of the sun. Her breathing is fast and shallow, as if all the talking has her completely exhausted. Jungkook has half a mind to urge her to sit lest she collapses. 

“I don’t take anything,” the woman says, before Jungkook can guide her to the stool he was previously resting on. “I give.”

Her voice sounds different enough from before that the difference is stark. Jungkook is taken aback by it, feeling as if he has been hit over the head. “I—I don’t understand,” Jungkook says, but the woman's shoulders suddenly slump, like a puppet torn from its strings.

She turns around and walks away from him slowly, joining another Dawner further down the stream. “What the hell?” Jungkook mutters, pondering over the woman’s parting words.  

I don’t take anything. I give. 

The abrupt change in behavior, and the way she spoke to him so attentively for a moment, before completely switching off and going on her merry way as if nothing had happened baffles him. 

Jungkook can't make sense of it, and frustration wells up within him. A part of him wants to chase after her, grab her by the shoulders, and demand an explanation. But the larger, more rational part of him understands that it wouldn't change anything.

There’s something bigger at play here, something sinister hiding inside this tiny, end-of-the-world town. 

Jungkook has no idea how, or why, his life became entwined in this web of mystery, but it feels as though the threads are coiling tighter and tighter around him with each passing moment. And he harbors a growing fear that, soon, he won't have the chance to break free from their grip.

\

But why does that feel like a homecoming?

\

Things remain much the same, neither improving nor worsening. Each morning, the Dawners fill the streets, their presence dwindling as the sun sets. 

People still end up missing. Bodies still are left to be found. 

The mayor’s neck remains on the line, and even his suffering and mourning fail to appease a populace desperate for answers, if not a resolution.

Still, as Jimin once said, life goes on while it still can.

Jungkook sticks to his morning routine with Lethe, allowing the milky-white waters to infiltrate his mind and clear his thoughts. In the afternoon, he does odd jobs here and there to make ends meet, and the nights are reserved for the bar. 

After a while, Jimin starts to disappear during the afternoons, off to do who-knows-what activities and returning shortly before their shifts at the bar. Jungkook has grown tired of asking what is it that his friend’s up to, only to receive various shades and tones of ‘mind your own business, this isn’t 1984, Big Brother ’ in response.

He’s worried, but not overcome with it yet. Jimin is responsible and entitled to his own secrets, so Jungkook won’t push him. He knows Jimin will come to him when he's ready or when the need arises. 

Nonetheless, Jungkook ensures that Jimin knows the door is always open for him, and always will be.

The Dawners have reverted to not approaching him anymore. Still, Jungkook occasionally catches one or two of them staring at him, much like the woman from nearly a month before. To avoid coming off as an asshole and to let them know he's aware of being watched, he's taken to waving at them in greeting. 

They respond, lazily waving their hands in the air a few times, their unfocused gazes tracking his movements. He's grown oddly accustomed to this behavior.

A couple of days ago, he even asked Jimin if he'd ever noticed it happening to him, receiving a firm "no" as the response. Jungkook doesn’t know if that was entirely true, but Jimin didn’t seem willing to be questioned further about it, so he just let it go.

Jungkook doesn’t entirely enjoy this secretive atmosphere around their home. He doesn’t want to pressure his best friend, but he misses how easy things used to be. They used to share everything with each other, sometimes to their own detriment.

Now, it feels as though they're leading separate lives, reuniting only during their nights at the bar. Part of Jungkook thinks this is part of growing up, each of them finding different things to do because they are different people. Another part of him asks himself if this would’ve happened if they weren’t living in this whirlwind.

"Jimin is running late. Just you tonight?" Boss asks, his gruff voice cutting through Quincey's gentle guitar strumming in the almost-empty room.

“No,” Jungkook replies, watching impassively as Boss pours himself yet another shot of soju. The old man ignores Jungkook’s judgmental eye as always. “He texted me earlier, saying he’s on his way.”

He gestures vaguely at the still-open chat room conversation between the two on his phone, the screen illuminated enough to display the exchanged words clearly.

Jimin

will be there in 5

sorry honey 

Jungkook

No

Jimin

asshole

Boss hums, smacking his lips after downing the soju in one gulp. “I’m not nagging, just concerned. You kids need to take better care of yourselves.”

The sentimental words should take Jungkook by surprise, but they’ve been working together for way too long. He knows who Boss really is beneath the influence of alcohol. Jungkook huffs, amused. Boss grumbles something under his breath, unwilling to acknowledge the fact that behind the façade of a brute, he’s soft at heart. 

“And you need to kick the soju and start serving tables again,” Jungkook says, giggling. 

“No damn respect,” Boss mutters, acting offended. “As if there’s enough people around these days. You two can get the job done just fine.”

Jungkook’s heart feels heavy. Boss has led a rough life, and although he went back to his drunken ways, and is unpolished and harsh, he’s a good person. Witnessing something that you’ve dedicated so much time and effort into turn into crumble so quickly would unmake just about anyone.

“Ah, of course,” Boss says, starting to slur already. Still, his voice clears enough for Jungkook to know that something changed. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

Oh. 

Jungkook turns on his heels so quickly that he can feel his low ponytail shifting in his head. 

Min Yoongi makes his way across the room towards him. At first, he only showed up on Friday nights, but gradually Yoongi started showing up most nights, keeping his promise that Jungkook would see him again.

"He's not my boyfriend," Jungkook mumbles, his lips pursed to prevent Yoongi from understanding his words.

Boss scoffs, unimpressed. “Yeah, right.”

Before he can argue any further, Yoongi finally reaches him, bringing his unique atmosphere with him. As Jungkook walks a little forward to close the already small gap between them, he is so aware of the rush in his blood that he can almost hear it. "Hi," he says.

"Hello," Yoongi greets him with a gentle smile on his face. "It’s good to see you." 

Jungkook almost squirms with joy, warmth falling over his body like a weighted blanket. "It's good to see you too."

"And you, sir," Yoongi adds, nodding respectfully at Boss' unsteady form. The old man doesn't reply, only raising a glass of soju in Yoongi's direction as a greeting. This makes Yoongi snort a little in humor. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s being very unprofessional tonight,” Jungkook says, giving Boss a look from behind his shoulder. “I’ll take you to your table, Yoongi.”

“If you’d be so kind, my dear,” Yoongi says, grinning with his small, square-shaped teeth fully in sight. It’s Jungkook’s favorite smile. 

Yoongi has taken to calling Jungkook by affectionate little nicknames. 'My dear', and sometimes 'my darling'. The progression of these has been both gradual and intense, and every time he earns a new one, Jungkook's heart almost summersaults out of his mouth and into Yoongi's feet.

They’ve gotten to know each other well during their nights together, and despite the age difference—Yoongi’s 33 to Jungkook’s 27, they have a lot in common.

Both are naturally introverted, but around each other, it seems like all they do is talk endlessly. Yoongi manages to pull Jungkook apart so easily it almost feels as if they’ve already met before. He even asked Yoongi that, to the other man’s amusement.  “Are you sure we’ve never met before? I feel like I’ve known you forever. ”

Their sudden bond has been a pressure point between Jungkook and Jimin's friendship. His best friend is not mean about it, having quickly realized that Jungkook wouldn't allow him to be, but he has made his disapproval obvious. Jungkook wouldn't be as upset if Jimin could at least give him decent reasoning, but at this point it feels as if Jimin is purposely being stubborn, refusing to admit that his initial impression of Yoongi was wrong. 

Jungkook doesn't enjoy this tension between them, but he stands his ground. At times, he feels as if he's still waiting for Jimin to realize that he's no longer the wide-eyed kid he grew up with. 

"What is this look on your face?" Yoongi asks, taking his usual seat at the back of the bar facing their small, makeshift stage. 

Jungkook sighs, slouching in the seat facing Yoongi. The two of them are a lot closer now, maybe even close enough to be considered friends, so he doesn't feel the need to excuse himself. Yoongi has stopped him from doing exactly that before when he tried. "You already know me too well," Jungkook mumbles. 

"Not well enough to my liking," Yoongi says, and his eyebrows furrow. “But, well—one can’t miss this pout of yours."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, trying—and definitely failing, to keep his expression neutral. It's been a little over a month, but he still doesn't know what comes over him when Yoongi's around. This need of his to make himself small. This longing for something he can't quite understand.

If he were a bit more romantic and a lot more naive, he would think that his body tries to adapt to Yoongi's smaller form of its own accord. He becomes shy, coy and impressionable. He acts silly and cute, desperately trying to make sure that Yoongi likes him and finds him attractive. 

He even flirts, and Jungkook has never flirted with anyone before.

"Don't make fun of the pout," Jungkook mutters, stealing a glance at Yoongi from beneath his eyelashes. "It's just… things haven't felt the best at home."

Yoongi emits that familiar sound Jungkook has learned to recognize as his 'deep in thought' noise. It's as though he's sucking in air between his teeth. "Is it because of Jimin?"

Jungkook nods and studies his fingers—his tattoos, his bony knuckles, his calloused palms. He's faced so much in his life, but managing friendships has never been his strong suit, even though he's only ever had one friend. "Don't wanna say why, though." 

He doesn't wanna lie to Yoongi, and he knows he'll have to if he approaches the reasons behind his minor falling out with his best friend. He and Jimin still talk as normal, watch movies on the weekends and laugh as loud and full-bellied as always, but whenever Yoongi or Jimin's obscure afternoon activities are brought up, it's like lightning strikes. Like glass shatters. Things unravel in a second. 

"That's alright," Yoongi says, pausing for a moment. He appears somewhat hurt by Jungkook's reluctance to reveal the truth, but he doesn't comment on it. "I understand it might be a sensitive topic for you. I'm sorry." 

Yoongi is momentarily distracted by a commotion behind them, and when Jungkook turns to look over his shoulder, he sees Jimin sneaking into the bar sheepishly. His best friend's gaze immediately locks with his, Jimin already expecting Jungkook to be sitting beside Yoongi at this point. 

Jungkook raises a hand in greeting, and after a brief pause, Jimin waves back. However, something fleeting flashes in his friend's eyes when he looks over Jungkook and takes in Yoongi's presence. It's an unmistakable look of distrust.

"Oh, he really does not like me," Yoongi remarks, pointing out the obvious in resignation. "How fitting." 

Jungkook's initial instinct is to deny it, to keep up the pretense a little longer, but Yoongi doesn't deserve that. So, he simply turns back around, sinking even deeper into his chair.

"Hyung just... I don't know, I think he still sees me as the little kid he grew up with. He thinks I'm... gullible, and easily influenced. He obviously didn't say that, but I just know," Jungkook confides, allowing himself to give Yoongi something, even if it's not the whole truth. "And he also thinks it's his job to protect me," Jungkook adds, falling into his newfound routine of opening up to Yoongi about nearly everything. It's just so incredibly easy with him, seamless and natural, like breathing. "I just wish he would trust my judgment more." 

Yoongi's eyes are fixed seriously on him as he speaks, hanging on every word as if it were the most interesting thing he's ever heard. He's not being inappropriate with his interest, which could easily come across that way. He just seems to be invested in Jungkook. In what he has to say. Which is why Jungkook just... says things. Anything. Everything. Jungkook doesn't think he's ever been so honest with anyone before—maybe not even with Jimin himself.

"I see," Yoongi responds thoughtfully. "I may have been the catalyst this time, but you and Jimin would have reached this point sooner or later.”

"I... I didn't say you were the catalyst," Jungkook mumbles, inwardly cursing himself for making things so obvious. He barely registers the peculiar wording in the latter part of Yoongi's statement.

It's just... those eyes. How can one not unravel completely when gazing into Min Yoongi's sharp, bottomless eyes? How can one not simply come undone under the weight of Min Yoongi's gaze?

"You didn't have to," Yoongi says, his tone not unkind. He casually places his hand on the tabletop, palm facing up. His skin looks soft, smooth as marble. And inviting... so incredibly inviting. Jungkook's fingers twitch involuntarily. "I can tell.”

"How?" Jungkook asks, transfixed. It's like being under the analysis of a Higher Power, an all-seeing, all-encompassing force above everything else in the world. Jungkook thinks that there's nothing Min Yoongi wouldn't be able to pull out of him. 

The realization should be frightening. Instead, Jungkook can only feel relief. 

"Your eyes tell, my dear. They tell me all about you." 

Dropping the appearance of casualness, Yoongi reaches across the table and places his hand over Jungkook's. Their fingers intertwine over Jungkook’s lap, and it takes a mountain to control the nearly violent way his body reacts to Yoongi's touch. Their hands fit so well together. Yoongi's large and smooth hand—a scholar's hand, as the old books Jimin enjoys might describe it—over Jungkook's rough, tattooed one. They make quite a picture. 

Jungkook hums, though it borders dangerously close to a whine. When he sneaks a glance at Yoongi from beneath his eyelashes, the intensity of the man's gaze feels nearly palpable.

If Jungkook had any doubts about Yoongi's romantic interest in him, they are shattered at this moment. There's no mistaking the look in Yoongi's eyes, even for someone as inexperienced as Jungkook. It's as if Yoongi is ready to consume him whole.

Desire coils in Jungkook's core like serpents, wrapping around him, his organs, and his bones with an unrelenting grip. If this is how attraction feels for everyone else, Jungkook thinks he finally understands why people are so obsessed with it.

"I..." Jungkook's voice falters, and he awkwardly clears his throat a few times. "I should check in on Jimin. And... and get your drink, of course."

Yoongi smiles, clearly pleased with Jungkook's evident response to his advances. He still takes pity on Jungkook and nods in agreement, slowly withdrawing from their intimate proximity. Jungkook's inwardly protests.

“What would you like to drink?”

Yoongi considers, unwilling to lift his stare from Jungkook’s face. “Your Boss was having soju, wasn’t he? I’d like one too, please. It’s been a while.”

Jungkook nods, swiftly rising from his seat and darting across the bar with remarkable speed. 

The night goes on like this for a while, with Jungkook and Yoongi enveloped in their own intimate bubble, talking about everything and nothing at all, punctuated by moments when Jungkook needs to pause briefly to compose himself. Yoongi flusters him to such an extent that it feels like his body might burst into flames.

Jimin doesn’t treat him any differently, but the disapproval in his eyes is unmistakable when Jungkook assists at the bar. His best friend's gaze remains fixated on Yoongi's every move, analytical and contemplative. Jimin still maintains his usual politeness with Yoongi, insisting that he was "Not raised in a barn, thank you very much, " but he no longer makes an effort to hide his scrutiny. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appears diverted.

At times, Jungkook thinks that his obvious happiness in Yoongi’s company may be the only thing keeping his best friend from pulling him aside by the elbow like a concerned mother.

Yoongi takes his time sipping his soju , and Jungkook can't help but laugh when he claims he's "savoring it," his delicate face contorted in mock disgruntlement. Yoongi’s so funny sometimes.

Their conversation and occasional flirtatious exchanges are accompanied by Quincey's music this evening, no vocals this time, as Jungkook has made it a point to sing exclusively on Fridays. He still enjoys it, though. Quincey is a talented guitarist, and his music is smooth and flawlessly tuned.

Yoongi appears to be enjoying it as well, even though he mentions that he prefers Jungkook's singing, which sets his entire body alight. 

"Oh," Yoongi hums, closing his eyes with longing as Quincey starts playing a song Jungkook doesn't immediately recognize. It's slow and mellow, heavy with melancholy and nostalgia.

"You like this one?" Jungkook whispers, keenly watching the fragile expression bloom on Yoongi's face.

"Yes," Yoongi murmurs, gradually reopening his eyes. They instantly meet Jungkook's, and something tender flickers within the depths of his brown gaze. “Do you want to dance?”

“Dance?” Jungkook asks, a bit dumbly. 

Yoongi doesn't offer an explanation. Instead, he rises to his feet and extends a graceful hand, patiently waiting for Jungkook to take it.

And Jungkook does, because of course he does. 

Taking Jungkook's hand, Yoongi gently leads him toward the small stage. Jungkook is entirely oblivious to the look of revelation in Quincey's eyes and the gradual slackening of Jimin's jaw in disbelief. His attention is entirely consumed by the sight of the back of Yoongi's head as the man strolls leisurely with Jungkook in tow.

Yoongi's hair cascades longer in the back, gracefully curling at the ends near his lower neck and behind his ears. His shoulders are broad, with a subtle unevenness, tilting slightly toward his left shoulder.

"May I, Your Highness?" Yoongi playfully proposes, executing an exaggerated, regal bow in Jungkook's direction, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Jungkook huffs, feeling incredibly embarrassed yet impossibly endeared. "You may, My Lord," he responds, playfully raising his hands to his sides, mimicking the stance of a fair maiden with her long, flowing gown.

Yoongi bursts into laughter, thoroughly amused. He looks so content tonight, Jungkook observes. Happiness radiates from him in waves, deep enough to envelop Jungkook entirely and lift his spirits high enough to breach the surface.  

And then they’re twirling, one of Jungkook's hands gripping Yoongi's shoulder while the other rests gently on top of Yoongi's cool palm. Yoongi's free hand maintains a respectful position on Jungkook's mid-back, and the weight of his touch is impossible to ignore. It's as if Jungkook is being branded by a searing fire.

"Back in the day, couples used to dance while holding a candle between their palms," Yoongi remarks casually as Jungkook clumsily attempts to match his confident steps. Yoongi is just full of surprises, and being an exceptional ballroom dancer seems to be just another one of them. "If the candle stays lit after their dance is finished, it means their synergy was absolutely perfect."

"I think I've seen that in a movie," Jungkook says, giggling. "Do you think our candle would remain lit?"

"Oh, yes," Yoongi responds, the certainty in his voice undeniable. "I know it would."

The strumming of the guitar is heavy on Jungkook’s chest, but then again, maybe that’s just the look on Yoongi’s eyes. Jungkook sees his own reflection deep within the brown, and he’d feel embarrassed by how immersed he is in the moment if Yoongi wasn’t completely surrendered to it himself. 

A teasing howl comes from somewhere behind the bar, and Jungkook knows for certain that it is Boss, taking the scene as confirmation that, yes, Yoongi is indeed Jungkook’s boyfriend . 

Jungkook doesn’t mind.

Let him talk. Let them all talk. He doesn’t owe anyone anything. As of right now, all he has to do is fall in line with Yoongi’s movements, and nothing else matters.

Jungkook bursts into hearty laughter when Yoongi playfully dips him, and even Quincey's amused giggles join in from behind the guitar.

Jungkook catches a glimpse of his own upside down reflection in the small, rectangle-shaped mirror on the ceiling above the stage. To his dismay, Yoongi's body is angled away from it. He'd kill to see how they look while dancing the night away together.

"I'm so red," Jungkook points out when Yoongi brings him back upright. He’s still laughing. 

"You're enjoying yourself," Yoongi corrects, pulling Jungkook's malleable body even closer.

Jungkook smiles, and his cheeks feel sore from all the smiling he's done in such a short time. "I think you're magic, Min Yoongi," he says, acutely aware of Yoongi's ability to chase his worries away. He feels safe in the man’s presence, and Jungkook wildly thinks they’re meant to always be like this. Together.

Yoongi twirls him a few times, and Jungkook can’t help but to keep smiling wide and child-like, uncaring of who may be watching and what they might be thinking. He feels happy and light on his feet. He feels as if he could dance with Yoongi forever. 

Despite dancing like this for the first time, after a while, Jungkook finds himself easily following Yoongi's lead, as if they've done it a thousand times. Their movements are effortless, and natural as breathing. 

“You’re amusing,” Yoongi remarks, clearly delighted by Jungkook's happiness and pliability. “You captivate me.” 

Jungkook sighs, although it sounds more like a swoon. He feels like a book character from one of Jane Austen’s novels. Jungkook is far from a bookworm like Yoongi, but he’s definitely not unfamiliar with the movies. If he were to compare, he’d be Lizzie Bennet to Yoongi’s Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Later in the story though, long after Lizzie has given up acting as if she wasn’t bewitched by the rich man. Jungkook laughs, smitten. 

"So do you," he says boldly, placing both his hands on Yoongi's shoulders. "Like no one else ever has before."

Yoongi hums. "You're interesting."

Jungkook giggles and experiences a momentary sense of déjà vu. "You know, someone told me something similar not too long ago. A woman on the street."

"Yes?" Yoongi inquires, intrigued. His eyes remain locked on Jungkook's lips, seemingly captivated by the way Jungkook's mouth shapes the words. "How come?"

"A Dawner," Jungkook clarifies, recalling the strange encounter. The way it felt as though the woman's words were being relayed to her, the unusual clarity in her voice juxtaposed with her dazed demeanor. 

Quincey's song transitions into a slower one, and they cease the flamboyant movements Yoongi had them in, swaying gently on their feet instead. "She said I was really interesting."

Yoongi's expression turns carefully blank, taking Jungkook by surprise. It's a stark contrast to the fun and easygoing atmosphere they were sharing just moments ago. "A Dawner? When was this?"

“Yes,” Jungkook explains, confused and upset at Yoongi’s sudden solemnity. They were having such a good time. “She was staring at me while I was hanging out at Lethe about a month back, and when I approached her to check if everything was okay, she asked me what I was doing, and said I was interesting. It was really weird, she sounded so aware of it. But then she just turned around and wobbled away.”

Jungkook still remembers the way the woman’s limbs dropped, the clarity in her voice disappearing.

I don’t take anything, I give, she said.

“Has this happened before, or since?” Yoongi questions, something calculating replacing the warmth in his eyes. 

"Um, no. Just... sometimes I catch them looking at me. The Dawners, I mean. But they just wave back when I greet them."

Yoongi doesn't respond, his expression hardening.

“Is everything okay?” Jungkook asks, suddenly worried. Yoongi looks almost enraged for a moment. “It’s alright, they are harmless. I’m really careful too.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly with a deep breath. When he reopens them, his gaze has regained their previous calmness, though Jungkook notes that it's not as warm.

Jungkook has grown accustomed to Yoongi's mood shifts, the man clearly going through turmoil he’s yet to share more about. Jungkook doesn't pressure him, but he feels disheartened seeing Yoongi in such distress. He doesn't like it when Yoongi looks sad.

"Promise me something, Jungkook." 

“Yeah, I… of course. What do you need?”

“Promise me you won’t speak to these people anymore,” Yoongi is resolute. It doesn’t sound like he’s asking. “Promise me.”

“I—of course. It only happened once anyway,” Jungkook reassures him, disliking the worry that’s emanating from Yoongi’s words, so much so that it feels as if the man has turned into stone under his hands. 

“Will you tell me if it happens again?”

“Yes.”

It’s the easiest promise Jungkook has ever made. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem placated, but recognizes the truth in Jungkook’s words, drinking it from his eyes, and somewhat calls himself—going from stone to wood under Jungkook’s touch.

THIS IS THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE NIGHTLY CURFEW… YOU HAVE 30 MINUTES…

Their carefully crafted bubble bursts and the moment disappears into the air like smoke. Jungkook tries not to show his discontent, but Yoongi definitely catches it. He seems to reflect Jungkook's inner disappointment. 

"May I have your number?" Yoongi’s cheeks flush ever so slightly. "I don't think I can wait until tomorrow night to talk to you. Feels like a lifetime away."

"Dramatic," Jungkook teases, rolling his eyes. He feels nauseous from the violent fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach. "Of course you can."

They exchange numbers, and Jungkook desperately wants to ask for a contact picture, but refrains himself from doing so. “Be careful,” Jungkook's shoulders slump, dreading the time to say goodbye a bit more each passing night. 

Yoongi touches his face, a difficult expression to discern on his face. The usual warmth in his brown eyes is dulled, something cold and distant simmering in its stead. His touch is gentle, but his brows furrow as if he’s physically trying to restrain himself.

Jungkook can’t shake off the feeling that something’s wrong.

"I'll see you soon, my dear, and I'll talk to you even sooner," Yoongi gestures to his phone before pocketing it. "Take care." 

Yoongi doesn't take the time to say goodbye to Jimin and Boss as he has done for the past month, just nods in their general direction and leaves without a word. 

And Jungkook watches him go, as always. He's getting tired of seeing Yoongi walk away from him. He wishes they could see each other during the day, or at least outside the bar. 

Maybe now that they will be texting, they’ll develop whatever this is into something real. The bar is stifling, and Jungkook wants more. Jungkook wants Yoongi in a way he's never wanted anyone or anything before, and he'll do whatever it takes to get him now—if only to understand. If only to get the experience, even if that means he’ll break his own heart. 

Jungkook wants to amount to something in this damned world, so why not let it be an adventure? Let it be want. Let it be desire. Let it be Yoongi.

\

Jungkook’s been running for hours. 

The shadows scratch at his body, its elongated, talon-looking fingers violently grabbing at his arms and legs. It hurts, and makes him want to scream, but all he can do is run.

Behind him, the void.

“Yoongi, help me!” Jungkook chokes, but not on air. 

Blood cascades out of his mouth like a river, and the taste of iron and rust fill up his mouth. 

As the river touches the ground and pools beneath his feet, the soil rips open, exposing the naked bowels of the Earth. 

Yoongi sits inside, snakes twisting around his body like a lover’s arms. 

“Imagine being loved by me,” Yoongi’s voice thunder. “Imagine being mine to devour.”

\