Work Text:
Yoongi’s sick.
For the past 48 hours, he’s been splashing water on his face and powering through the day by drinking criminal amounts of coffee, completely having thrown off the window his decaf rule after almost a year . Aspirin after aspirin, royally ignoring everything his body was telling him because he can’t get fucking sick; he has a deadline.
It’s 4:35 in the morning. Yoongi has just woken up suddenly, unable to breathe properly through his nose. He’s pretty sure he has a fever, he feels so cold. And his fucking head . Splitting in two. In three, even. He can’t even move properly. It’s a disaster.
Yoongi whines, feeling around his bed in search of his phone. He doesn’t know what for; what is he going to do? Call the pharmacy and beg them to not only deliver— whatever people take when they have the flu, but also to come up to the penthouse, unlock his front door and put it down his throat because he can’t fucking move? That kind of service is hardly available. Besides, what an inconvenience. He can hardly quantify just how big of a tip someone would deserve for that.
When he finally finds his phone, looking at the screen without feeling like death itself proves to be another impossible task. Yoongi dims the light, blinking only one eye open. It still hurts, but what choice does he have? There’s a few email notifications, a message from his co-producer (can you deliver it by the end of the week?) and one message from Jungkook from a couple hours ago.
You’re sick, aren’t you?
Yoongi pulls in a breath through his mouth even if it hurts like a motherfucker. He unlocks the screen, opening his chat with Jungkook.
A little bit…
The reply comes almost instantly. Jungkook really needs to start watching his sleep schedule ( says the man with the worst sleep schedule in the history of the world , Jungkook would most likely reply if Yoongi dared to bring it up).
A little bit? Be honest
Yoongi doesn’t want to be honest. He hates admitting defeat and he swore on Epik High that he was not too sick to work yesterday morning when Jungkook insisted he was too sick to work.
Min Yoongi-sunbaenim
He hates when Jungkook addresses him this way, too. Yoongi has never said so with that many words, but he thinks Jungkook knows. He does it to annoy him, or make him pout, or whatever. Now, though, it feels a bit cruel. Yoongi is too sick to get annoyed.
I’m very sick
And Jungkook’s reply would make Yoongi stand up from his bed, if he could.
Please, let me come over
Yoongi tries to gulp down, but he can’t. He doesn’t know much about romantic relationships (because as of two months ago, three days from now, that’s what he and Jungkook are officially in), but he knows enough to know that you don’t usually say no when a request like that is made unless you have a really good reason, such as I’m tired from work or I have a meeting in the morning .
Which wouldn’t even apply to them because, unless he has a schedule he can’t postpone or is too tired to even hold a conversation, Yoongi always wants Jungkook to come over (which at first came as a shock and made him panic terribly, but his best friend slapped some sense into him as kindly as someone like Kim Seokjin can).
It’s just that the idea of Jungkook coming to his place when he’s so weak , it— it makes him shift uncomfortably. And why would Jungkook want to come over, anyway? Yoongi’s sick. His head is killing him. What can he even offer Jungkook at this moment? They can’t enjoy watching something, or playing a game, listening to music, or even cooking. Well, Jungkook could cook for him, but the thought of eating makes Yoongi want to throw up. Besides, he’s the cook! That’s one of the ways he shows affection. He likes to give things to others.
He can’t give Jungkook anything but snorts, coughs and possibly an annoying disease today.
Please, jagiya, don’t make it difficult for me to take care of you
Yoongi frowns, rereading the message three times as if he’s too dumb to understand the words. Jungkook wants to take care of him ? He wants to come over to take care of him?
That’s— uncharted territory.
I don’t do that
Jungkook quickly types back:
Don’t do what?
Yoongi shifts on the bed and whines when a very poignant pain curses through his frontal lobe. He takes a deep breath.
Let people take care of me
He doesn’t even have time to reread his own message before Jungkook’s name pops up on the screen in a call. Yoongi stares at it for a second too long, feeling the phone vibrate around his fingers as its loud ringtone plays violently in his ears. He picks up the call quickly, closing his eyes as the headache turns just a little bit more painful.
“I have a headache, Jungkookie,” he cracks. “I don’t wanna speak on the phone.”
“I’ll whisper,” his boyfriend whispers. “And I’ll be quick. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Look, I know you’re not used to people taking care of you and you’re always the one doing everything for me, like, I can cook, you know? Very well, too. And I can pay for our meals, and our dates, and I can buy presents, too.”
“I don’t need presents.”
“You don’t need to need presents to get presents, jagiya, but this is not the point I’m trying to make right now. I just— you’re sick . You wouldn’t admit that you were, you refused to see a doctor, and now you’re worse. Let me take care of you. Cook you some soup, apply cold towels on your forehead and check your temperature. That’s what boyfriends do.”
Yoongi feels the urge to reply with ‘ it is?’ , but he’s 35. He’s too old to be asking his decade younger partner what is common in relationships. It’s quite embarrassing, actually, that Yoongi has never been in any. Well, at least not any relationship that was called one, or lasted the six months he and Jungkook have been hooking up for.
Still, Yoongi feels quite conflicted about this. He learned to take care of himself pretty young and he almost never gets sick. Popping some aspirin in has always done the deed. Well. Except when he had that shoulder injury. Even the thought of it makes him shudder.
“Jagiya,” Jungkook whispers softly.
He started calling him that the day he asked Yoongi if he wanted to be his boyfriend. They were sitting on the couch; Jungkook was playing Overwatch and Yoongi was crocheting a new challenge for himself; a black sweater to give Jungkook for his birthday.
Yoongi had stopped, stunned. He turned to look at the man sitting next to him, console down, eyes big and round like a deer’s fixed on Yoongi’s face. The only indication that having asked that question made him nervous was a light tremble of his bottom lip.
You want me to be your boyfriend? Yoongi had questioned, confused. I’ve– never done that.
Well, do you wanna do that with me? Jungkook chuckled, quite obviously nervous now. His eyes had grown even bigger. He was clutching the console. It’s cool if you don’t, like, I get it, I’m young and you’re rich and famous and I just— well, I think we’re at that place, but if you don’t that’s cool, we can just— I don’t know, keep sleeping together and eating together and doing everything together, and labels are stupid, anyway—
Jungkook-ah , Yoongi interrupted him; he could go on quite a ramble when nervous. He put his hand over Jungkook’s tattooed fingers. I wanna do that with you .
The younger man’s eyebrows lifted. Really?
Really.
It surprised Yoongi, too; how much he wanted to be Jungkook’s boyfriend. The label hadn’t occurred to him until right at that moment because his entire life was always about work and getting to where he wanted to go, and then, there he was, at the top, with no one beside him. And it was fine. It was fine. Yoongi didn’t mind.
And then, at a company party, one of the newly hired producers said hi to him, bowing a whole 90 degrees. Said he was a fan of his work and hoped one day they could do something together and, for the first time in his entire life, Yoongi was unprofessional;
He couldn’t. Stop. Staring.
Jungkook was just too beautiful. He could be an idol. Yoongi had had a few drinks already, so maybe that’s why they ended up where they did that night — in Yoongi’s penthouse.
Not having sex .
Doing music.
That came later.
Not that night .
A few weeks later.
It felt kind of inevitable, in a way Yoongi hadn’t experienced before. And he did try to fight it because he is Jungkook’s sunbae and nine years his elder and… and… Well. At 35 years old, Yoongi finally found someone that could make him stop and rewind. Breathe. Laugh. He picked up crocheting , for crying out loud.
“Jagiya,” Jungkook repeats, still very soft. “Can I please come over to take care of my boyfriend?”
“But I— I can’t do anything for you right now,” Yoongi replies dumbly. “I can’t even get out of bed.”
Jungkook exhales.
“ Jagiya . This is a relationship. You’re not my servant . I know you’re a giver, but be a receiver this time around.”
“A receiver?”
“Of care.”
Yoongi tries to gulp down again, but it hurts so bad he whimpers softly.
“See!” Jungkook’s voice goes slightly up. “You need care.”
“It’s 5am.”
“I can get a cab.”
“Cabs are super expensive at 5am.”
“I can pay for it.”
“I can pay for it for you.”
“ Jagiya .”
Yoongi pouts. His throat hurts. His airways are constricted. His limbs ache. He feels so cold and the AC isn’t even on. If Yoongi could just stand up and get his aspirin, maybe take a bath… he would be fine enough to finish that damn song.
Yoongi pouts harder. Just the mere thought of trying to do any of that makes him want to cry.
“It’s 5am, you should be sleeping,” he tries as a final resort, already knowing what Jungkook will reply.
“Look who’s talking.”
Yoongi’s pout now is probably as big as it can get.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea...”
“Of course it is, hyung, don’t be difficult,” his boyfriend asks. There’s another honorific that Jungkook hardly uses these days, but for very different reasons. “I know how to do this.”
“You’ve taken care of a lot of boyfriends in the past, is that what you’re saying?”
There’s a very obvious and pregnant pause. Yoongi tries to laugh, but of course it hurts so he whines one more time.
“Let me come.”
“Okay.” Yoongi would take a deep breath if his nostrils were working and his throat wasn’t so sore. “You can come over, Jungkook-ah, but just for a little bit, I don’t wanna trouble you.”
“You never trouble me and I’m on my way,” Jungkook says, turning off the call before Yoongi can change his mind.
He wouldn’t, though.
It’s true that Yoongi doesn’t want Jungkook to see him like this, and it’s true that he has never let another human being take care of him apart from that one time he was stuck in a hospital bed at 19 years old because some idiot ran him over with a car.
But it’s also true that he doesn’t want to be alone right now. Everything hurts. Yoongi doesn’t get sick. He got sick once and then he got better and everything else was manageable. This— this doesn’t feel manageable and that’s also uncharted territory. Yoongi hasn’t felt pain like this since he was a teenager, but it’s just a fucking flu . It will go away in a day or two.
He should call Jungkook and tell him not to come. Explain that he doesn’t want him to see Yoongi like this and that their relationship is too fresh for snorting and coughing and he doesn’t want Jungkook to catch it because he also has deadlines and he’s still so new at the company, he could get in trouble for delivering something late and—
His phone makes a sound.
You need to give me your password so I can enter, jagiya. I promise I won’t tell anyone!
Yoongi blinks.
You’re already here?
Jungkook replies with an emoji. That one where the monkey hides his eyes. Yoongi presses the call button.
“You left home the moment I admitted I was sick, didn’t you?”
“I was gonna leave soup and medicine at the door if you didn’t want me to come,” Jungkook explains, voice small. “You’re sick. You need soup. My eomeoni made it herself. I— asked her last night when you kept insisting you were fine while simultaneously coughing your lungs out. I’m— sorry if I crossed a boundary, I’m just… worried about you.”
Yoongi feels his eyes sting. He swallows it down.
“The password is 140503.”
Jungkook turns off the call and Yoongi faintly hears his front door being unlocked. Despite the fact he can’t see him yet, he knows Jungkook is smiling.
Yoongi doesn’t give out his password. Not to his home, not to his studio. Everyone knows that. It’s a rule. One of many that he has acquired over the years. But it’s Jungkook. And he brought soup. That his mother made. Yesterday when Yoongi started coughing and insisting he wasn’t sick.
There’s a light knock on his bedroom door. Jungkook waits until Yoongi cracks out a tiny, “Come in, Jungkookie,” before slowly opening it.
After the sun comes up, Yoongi tries some of the soup, but eating seems like torture when his throat hurts this bad. It tastes good, for the little his taste buds can tell. As soon as Jungkook puts the barely touched bowl on the nightstand, Yoongi thinks that it must be really nice to have grown up eating stuff like that everyday. He almost says it out loud, but the reminder that Jungkook doesn’t know anything about his early life rings in his ears as soon as the words come to the tip of his tongue, so he holds them.
“Do you want to sleep a little?” Jungkook asks, looking down at him with a concerned frown. Why is he so worried? It’s just the flu. “Oh, shit, I forgot about your headache, wait a bit.”
Before Yoongi can find enough strength to protest, Jungkook’s grabbing the bowl and walking out of the room. In an almost darkness, he counts the painful pulsing around his head as if they are seconds ticking by on a clock. Just as he reaches fifty, his boyfriend comes back.
“For the headache,” he says as he puts a pill on Yoongi’s palm. “Take it, I brought water, too. It’ll probably hurt, jagiya, but you should drink it all. You need to stay hydrated.”
Yoongi nods, taking the pill to his tongue and accepting the glass Jungkook offers. His boyfriend doesn’t let go, though, helping him drink it as if he’s a little kid that doesn’t know any better. Yoongi frowns as the liquid goes down his throat, feeling it sting as if he’s ingesting sand instead of water.
“I know it hurts,” Jungkook mutters even though Yoongi hasn’t said anything in protest. “Just a little bit more, yeah? It’s almost over, sweetheart.”
Yoongi frowns deeper, but not because of the pain. He diligently drinks the entire thing, and, when Jungkook places the glass on the nightstand and starts to fix the blanket covering him, Yoongi says:
“You don’t have to treat me like a little kid, Jungkookie. I’m fine.”
“I’m not treating you like a little kid, Yoongi,” Jungkook replies, placing the back of his hand against Yoongi’s forehead, frown ever present at this point. “I’m treating you like someone who’s sick. You’re very stubborn. You’re also burning up.”
As if to make that point clear, Yoongi trembles under the heavy covers. Jungkook adjusts it once more, pushing them up to his shoulders.
“I’ll bring another blanket and some wet towels, okay? Please try to relax.” Jungkook caresses his cheek. “We’ll try to break this fever before it gets worse.”
Yoongi just looks at him. What else can he do? Jungkook offers him a kind, soft smile, then he takes the empty glass and his beautiful self, and leaves the room. Drowned in almost darkness again, Yoongi tries to sort through what he feels, but it’s all cramped up together with the scorching pain in his head and the freezing cold in his muscles, so it’s hard to understand much of anything.
Has he ever learned how to turn off his mind?
Fuck . What a mess. Yoongi doesn’t get sick like this. He can’t get sick like this. There’s so much to be done, deadlines to meet, music to revise and events to plan.
With a deep, shaky breath, he closes his eyes and sinks further onto his bed. If he lies very still, maybe his head won’t hurt as much and his limbs won’t shake as hard. If he lies very, very still, maybe he can figure out if the lump on his throat is phlegm or something else.
Ugh, he feels so disgusting. Jungkook shouldn’t be here, seeing him like this. Yoongi hopes he won’t waste away his day taking care of him. That is too much. Next time Jungkook comes to the room, he will tell him so, Yoongi will tell him he shouldn’t stay here all day. Yeah. He will do that. Next time. When Jungkook comes back, Yoongi will tell him… What is he going to tell him?
Yoongi’s pillow is so comfortable. Everything really fucking hurts, but this pillow, oh, this pillow… it feels so… nice.
“Shit, he’s still burning up,” Jungkook whispers. “Should I call someone? Am I too stupid to take care of my boyfriend’s flu? Oh God, I should call Jimin.”
There’s something cold and wet against Yoongi’s forehead and on the back of his neck. He can no longer feel the heavy blanket that had been covering him over his body. It takes him a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes, to fully process the state of his being, and once he does, all Yoongi can do is whine.
“Oh, baby, did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I’m just trying to bring your fever down.”
Every single muscle on his body feels too heavy to move, everything within him aches too painfully. Yoongi tries to open his eyes, but it’s impossible. The pain that had been plaguing his head has only worsened and the glass-like scratch on his throat is making him properly terrified. Is this what being actually sick feels like? Is that what the flu does? Holy fucking shit, Yoongi cannot do all of this right now.
He has a deadline!
“Drink some more water,” Jungkook asks, and there’s a tint of desperation on the edge of his words. He removes the wet cloth from Yoongi’s forehead. “Come on, here’s the glass, baby, I’ll guide you. You need to stay hydrated, come on.”
Yoongi feels Jungkook’s hand on his back propping him slightly up so it’s easier to drink the water without spilling. He feels the cold glass against his lips and drinks the water in very painful gulps. Once he’s done, Jungkook places him back on the pillow very carefully, placing the wet cloth back on his skin.
“You’re gonna be fine,” Jungkook promises, but by the way his voice shakes, he doesn’t seem very confident. “I’ll get some more wet towels and I’ll be—”
“Don’t,” Yoongi manages to crack out, but it hurts so bad all can do afterwards is cough, and that hurts too. But he needs to stop him. He has to stop Jungkook from leaving this room. “Don’t go.”
“You want me to stay here with you, jagiya?”
If it’s not too much trouble.
Just a little bit.
As long as you don’t stand too close.
“I don’t want you to get sick.”
Every word feels like a dagger straight to his vocal chords, but again, he had to say it. Yoongi needs Jungkook to know he isn’t a selfish man.
“I won’t lay on the bed with you, then,” Jungkook reasons. “So I don’t get sick. Although I don’t mind getting sick if it means I get to take care of you better, I know that would make you feel awful. So , I won’t lay on the bed with you.”
He knows Yoongi so well. When did he get to know him so well? Or has he become an obvious type of person? Is it splattered all over his face, is he that easy to read nowadays?
“I’ll grab that chair you have on the corner and sit by your side,” Jungkook continues. “Then you can go back to sleep knowing I’m here.”
Isn’t that chair too uncomfortable? Yoongi doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have asked Jungkook to stay in the room. He tries to say so, tries to tell him to leave and not mind him, but his throat scratches too much, and, maybe, Yoongi needs it? Maybe he needs Jungkook to be here right now. It hurts so much and he’s so upset. There’s a deadline. Yoongi needs to deliver the song by Friday. What day is it now? Wednesday? Would this fucking fever have gone away by then? And what about the aching in his muscles? The headache? Yoongi doesn’t have time for this shit.
There’s a loud dragging sound followed by a string of very airless apologies. Yoongi frowns, the pulsing around his head turning just a bit sharper while Jungkook drags the chair closer to the bed. He dares to open his eyes, and, for just a second, everything feels both better and worse.
Better, because Yoongi gets a glimpse of Jungkook’s long wavy hair trapped in a low bun, and worse because opening his eyes blurs his vision and traps his mind into more pain. But, he can’t say it didn’t feel worth it. For just a second.
“I’m really sorry, jagiya, I’ll be quiet now,” Jungkook promises, hand on his. Is it his tattooed one? Yoongi loves his tattoos. He always traces them with his fingers whenever he thinks Jungkook’s asleep. “Please, get some sleep.”
Yoongi gulps down (sand, sand, sand) and pulls in air through his mouth (glass, glass, glass). “No, please, talk to me.”
“Talk to you?”
“Anything,” he whispers, voice cracking. “Talk about anything.”
Jungkook hums. “Do you wanna hear about my day? Ah, I guess it isn’t that exciting, but I’m not a great storyteller, so I can’t think of anything else right now.”
You’re a great storyteller , Yoongi thinks. I love hearing you talk about anything .
“Yesterday Pdogg sent me an email asking if I could work on a specific beat for Le Sserafim , and I was so nervous because it was my first time getting assigned a girl group project, you know how they only send me stuff for the soloists, or TXT ? Which is great, of course, I love them, but I wanted to try something new.”
Yoongi smiles. His boyfriend always talks about girl groups’ songs, dances to them, performs them in his home studio when they are drinking beer and being silly together. Jungkook’s so good. He could be in front of the camera instead of behind it if he wanted to. Yoongi tells him so all the time.
“So, I worked on the beat all day, and I started envisioning some lyrics to it and just wrote over the beat aimlessly, but trying to picture the girls singing it, so at around 6pm I sent it back to Pdogg and he loved it , hyung, he loved it so much. He said he even liked the lyrics,” Jungkook chuckles, then stops suddenly. “Sorry, was that too loud?”
“No,” Yoongi cracks. “Can I listen?”
“You have a headache. Maybe later.”
Yoongi pouts, can’t help himself. There’s not a subject in the world he enjoys more than music; talking about, listening to it, working on it. He breathes music. And although right now he can’t properly do the actual breathing part with ease, he still wishes he could enjoy music. But Jungkook’s probably right. It would only worsen his headache.
“I’m trying to think of things to talk to you about, but it’s kind of like a monologue, isn’t it? Since it hurts when you talk, you shouldn’t force your throat. I suck at monologues, though,” Jungkook sighs. “Could never give a Ted Talk, that’s for sure. Can you imagine the levels in which I would embarrass myself if I gave a talk?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t talk, jagiya,” Jungkook asks, but Yoongi can hear the smile on his voice, so it was worth it. “Let me check your fever.”
Jungkook takes the towel off his forehead again and presses his palm against it. He says Yoongi’s still hot, and that he really needs to grab more cold towels. He will be back before Yoongi notices he’s gone, and yeah, Jungkook will be back quickly, in less than five minutes for sure, but for Yoongi not to notice he’s gone, he wouldn’t be able to leave at all. Maybe for only a second. More than that is already too much.
Fuck . What is this man doing to him? Yoongi used to be so good at being detached. When did he turn into a whiny can’t-be-left-alone mess? Is it the flu? Is it screwing with his brain? Or is it this new thing he has been feeling for a few months, sliding over his heart unannounced when he thought he had become too old to ever feel it again?
He starts counting the pounding on his head as seconds again.
Jungkook tells him it’s 10am when he sits back down after placing a new set of towels on his forehead and behind his neck.
He says he spent all his time outside of the room thinking of things to talk to Yoongi about and that he came up with a few. First, Jungkook tells him a story about his friend Jimin and how the two of them drank criminal amounts of soju and danced on top of a table at a bar in Itaewon, and how that was a terrible idea because Jimin slipped and twisted his ankle, so they spent the subsequent hours at the hospital drunk out of their minds, trying to keep quiet as they waited for the doctor to come back with the results.
Yoongi can picture it because he knows Jungkook, and he also knows Jimin, and the two of them together is the loudest and craziest he has ever particularly seen two people being. He can also very well picture those two giggling by a hospital bed with Jimin’s ankle all swollen and thinking that to be the funniest thing that has ever happened to them. Jungkook says that happened five years ago, but in Yoongi’s opinion, it could’ve well been yesterday. He says that much, even if it hurts, and Jungkook chuckles, agreeing.
The second story he tells is an even bigger throwback. Jungkook talks about his high-school days from time to time, so this isn’t the first tale from that period that Yoongi gets to hear.
Jungkook doesn’t talk about his romantic life before they got together; he’s mentioned there being a couple people, but apart from their names, Yoongi hasn’t heard anything about it. And the story he tells isn’t really about a previous partner, he’s just a part of it. His name is Lee Dongmin, and he and Jungkook did all their school education together. They weren’t super close until sophomore year, but they were always in the same classroom.
“So, yeah, let’s put Dongmin aside for a second but he will come back to the story. There was this girl, I think her name was Choi Yujin? Not sure, though. Anyway, she had this huge crush on me, like, it was super obvious, and I think you can imagine the level of panic little old gay me felt because everyone was just kind of waiting for me to do something about it, you know? But if I did, then, it would just be a big lie, and I didn’t wanna be that person.”
Commendable . Yoongi can’t relate. If he could taste anything right now, it would probably be bitter. He frowns, focusing all his thoughts on Jungkook’s story instead of things that cling to the walls of his regretful mind.
“But it was just so high pressure. I felt like I was going mad , everyone kept asking me and making jokes, and it was so unbearable. So, one day, Choi Yujin was brave enough to send a message to me during the third period. She put it on a piece of paper and slid it across the room until it reached me. I opened it with trembling hands, it was bad, Yoongi, and then—” Jungkook stops to laugh, then apologizes for being loud, but Yoongi doesn’t mind this one specific sound. “Okay, then , it said on the note you’re a loser, I have found someone better .”
Yoongi smiles. “Really?”
“Yes, oh my God, I was so relieved,” Jungkook sighs. “I became the laughing stock of the class for weeks, but it didn’t really matter. I was free from the pressure of compulsory heterosexuality!”
And how does Lee Dongmin feature in this story?
Too long of a sentence. It would hurt to say it. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t leave him hanging:
“It was Lee Dongmin, the guy that she had found. He told me a couple months later that he felt bad for me, so he stepped up. I told him he shouldn’t have done that, leading her on. He said he wasn’t, that she was cute and he enjoyed his time with her, but—” Jungkook stops. “Well, he liked someone else.”
“You.”
“Yeah, we don’t have to talk about that,” Jungkook huffs out an awkward chuckle. “I just thought the story of how I was almost tricked into straightness was funny, that’s all.”
Yoongi doesn’t find it weird or strange to talk about past relationships; he simply doesn’t have any real experience with that. He wouldn’t mind if Jungkook shared, but apparently this isn’t something he would like to do. Or maybe he just thinks Yoongi wouldn’t like it, since he also has never shared his own experiences.
“You can talk about him,” he manages to get out, despite the burning on his throat. Yoongi winces as soon as he closes his lips. Maybe because his eyes are closed, or maybe because he’s in a lot of pain, or perhaps because of the medicine he’s been taking for a couple days, Yoongi thinks that he can be a little more honest with the person who’s always honest with him. “I- there’s only been one other person for me, and we were never really together.”
When was the last time Yoongi uttered any of these words out loud? He doesn’t remember. Years, surely. How many? When was the last time he got drunk out of his mind in Seokjin’s presence? It was probably then. Only in moments like these; drunk and with someone he trusts, does Yoongi ever let himself remember. What is his excuse now? He isn’t drunk. But he is with someone he trusts.
“You never talk about that stuff with me,” Jungkook mutters ever so quietly. “What was their name?”
Yoongi gulps down ( ouch ).
“Wait, you can tell me later, if you want, you shouldn’t talk right now, I shouldn’t make you talk and-”
“Baby,” Yoongi interrupts, the word slipping out so easily. He blinks his eyes open and focuses them on Jungkook’s overly worried beautiful face. “His name was Cheong Daehyun.”
Jungkook draws in air through his parted lips, nodding his head. Yoongi wishes to ease the ever-present frown between his eyes, but he still doesn’t have the strength to move his arms. It’s so infuriating, how badly he wants to touch Jungkook, to hold him, to make all his worries go away. He wants to, but especially now, when he’s the reason his boyfriend is so concerned, Yoongi wishes he could do more, he could be better. It stings in his heart that Jungkook is sitting on this stupid chair only to make him company, how selfish he is for asking him to stay here, to tell him stories, to dig around his brain for something to say just to satisfy him.
What’s wrong with him? Yoongi has never done anything like this, never demanded so much from anyone, not even when he-and his shoulder- he dealt with that like a man. The nurses took care of him while he couldn’t really do anything, but as soon as he was better, he took care of himself. He never demanded anyone to stay at his bedside. So why is he doing this now, when all he has is a fucking flu? What the hell is wrong with him?
Yoongi pulls in a deep breath, ignoring the sting.
“You should go.”
Jungkook’s frown deepens, eyes moving rapidly across Yoongi’s face. It’s so dark in here, only a few rays of sunlight escaping through the curtains. Yoongi wishes he could see every line and every pore on Jungkook’s face.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you to stay here all day.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve done enough.”
Jungkook shakes his head, looking to his side, then back at Yoongi.
“No, I haven’t,” he replies, voice dripping with confusion. “I’ve barely done anything.”
“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi sighs, closing his eyes when a brand new sharp pain shoots from behind them. “Jungkook-ah, you’ve been here for five hours. Come on, it’s Wednesday, you need to work, and there’s Bam, right? You need to take care of him, and they probably need you to finish that Le Sserafim song.”
“You’re sick, Yoongi.”
“So?”
“ So I’m here taking care of you, my boyfriend, who’s sick.”
Yoongi feels his throat close up more than it already was, and it’s such an absurd sensation stinging behind his eyes that all he can do is give in. He gasps and blinks and tears fall down his cheeks. Fuck, can Jungkook see them? He hopes Jungkook can’t see them, why are they even there, why is he even crying right now? How stupid is he, how vulnerable has he allowed himself to become because of a flu? Yoongi can’t do this, he can’t— he has a deadline.
“Jagiya,” Jungkook whispers, hands on his chest and his cheek. “Oh, God, what’s wrong? Does it hurt that bad? Maybe we should go to the hospital? No, we can call a doctor instead, the company one? Yeah, I’m gonna call—”
“Jungkook, stop!” Yoongi asks, lifting his arms to push Jungkook’s hands away. “Please, just go, leave me alone, I need to— I need to be alone.”
There’s a beat of silence that follows his words and the numbing pain shooting daggers into his head. Yoongi places both of his hands over his face and tries to calm down, but his limbs are so heavy. It hurts so much to keep them up. He lets both his arms fall back down next to his body, but keeps his eyes shut. Yoongi feels pathetic, disgusting, with all the phlegm and unnecessary bursts of emotion, and all he wants is to be able to go back in time and not let Jungkook come over. Why did he let Jungkook come over, why did he ask him to stay in the room with him?
Yoongi has never— he doesn’t need anyone to see him like this, let alone the person he hopes will stay.
“I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away,” Jungkook mutters, voice not above a whisper. “I— I get that you’re closed off, but we’ve been doing good, haven’t we? I just wanna take care of you. There’s nothing wrong with being taken care of, Yoongi.”
Isn’t there?
“I just know how to take care of myself, that’s all,” he argues instead. “I don’t like to bother people.”
“I told you, Yoongi, you don’t bother me. I’m your boyfriend , don’t you understand the concept of that?”
“Not really.”
Jungkook pauses for a moment, and then, “What?”
“I don’t— I haven’t—” Yoongi shakes out a breath. “The guy I mentioned before. He wasn’t— we didn’t have a relationship. We had closed rooms, desperate kisses, guilt conscious and a very, very traumatic ending. So, uh, I wouldn’t really know what having a boyfriend entails.”
With a lot of effort, he reopens his eyes. Jungkook’s standing next to the bed, facing him with a mostly unreadable expression. How odd. Yoongi can usually read him just fine.
“How pathetic is that?” Yoongi questions, the tears quickly drying on his cheeks. “I’m 35-years-old and have no idea how to be in a relationship.”
“That’s not true,” Jungkook counters immediately. “You’re a great boyfriend to me, Yoongi, I’ve been so fucking happy with you. You make me feel alive, safe. You crochet a sweater for my birthday, for crying out loud, who does that? Nobody, that’s who. And it’s so warm, fits me so well.”
Yoongi tries to sniff, but even that is apparently impossible.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Jungkook offers him a sad smile. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes Yoongi’s hand in between his.
“You’re a great boyfriend to me, jagiya, but you need to allow me to be a great boyfriend to you, too. If you allow this kid to teach you anything about relationships, it’s that they are a two-way street.”
“But—” Yoongi presses his lips together, allowing a cold shiver to spread across his limbs. He’s so exhausted. Jungkook caresses his hand with his thumb. It feels so nice. Nicer than the pillow. “I really don’t know how to do this.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, not the— relationship part, although I’m not super positive about that either, but— this part. It bothers me so much to see you wasting your day away here, cooking with me in what probably is a very, very hot room for you right now, with the looming threat of getting sick, too.” Yoongi licks over his dry lips. “It kills me, Jungkook. It makes me feel so selfish.”
“No, no. Don’t ever say anything like that ever again, alright? You’re not selfish, baby, you’re just sick. And I’m here because I l—”
Jungkook’s eyes go wide for a moment and the grip on Yoongi’s hand gets a little tighter. His unreadable expression suddenly turns very clear. Jungkook sucks on his bottom lip, eases the frown between his eyes and takes a deep breath. Yoongi can see it in his face before he says the words, but still, hearing them makes his heart race in a way he doesn’t remember ever feeling.
“I love you,” Jungkook mutters. “I’m here because I love you, Min Yoongi.”
Is it sad that Yoongi can count in one hand the amount of people who ever said to him? Most likely. Not that he ever cared too much about it. Yoongi has always taken pride in being self-sufficient. He got to where he is in his career because he worked his ass off for it; through the shoulder accident, through the descent of his best friend into hardcore drugs, through his mother’s illness, through homophobia and rejection. Yoongi has a penthouse because he worked through all his hardships, and he is a household name because he’s the best in the game despite all the hardships.
So what if he didn’t have romance? So what if the only man he ever loved gave up on them because of some stupid white powder? So what if his mother didn’t cook him soup growing up? So what if his father got home stumbling over the cassette and TV every single night? None of it mattered.
He was fine. His life was alright.
Then,
Nice to meet you, sunbaenim. My name is Jeon Jungkook, I hope I can work with you one day, I’m a really big fan.
And Yoongi just couldn’t stop staring.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Jungkook whispers. “Alright? I don’t want you to feel any pressure, I just want you to let me take care of you, hyung. You need someone to take care of you right now.”
Is it that simple? Yoongi needs someone to take care of him, and because Jungkook loves him, he is going to? Is it that easy and Yoongi’s the one who’s trying to make it complicated?
Jungkook takes another breath. A very shaky one. Yoongi could bet his cheeks are flushed, but the drapes are closed. Jungkook’s meant to be under the sun, not in a dark room. But he wants to be here, with him. Because he loves Yoongi. He loves him. Jungkook loves him.
“I’ll leave you a bit alone, okay? I don’t want to be an imposition, Yoongi, I’m just not comfortable with leaving you totally by yourself when you have such a high fever, and you can’t even really move around.”
He tries to stand up, but Yoongi musters all the little strength he has left to hold onto Jungkook’s tattooed hand. He loves his tattoos so much. Yoongi traces over them when he thinks Jungkook’s asleep. Maybe he should start doing so when he’s awake, too.
Jungkook holds his hand back and intertwines their fingers.
And just like that, and because of the way Yoongi’s heart warms up at the touch, it becomes crystal clear. What Yoongi feels for him. Why Yoongi needs Jungkook close all the time, why he doesn’t want to let him go even when he feels so guilty for asking for him to stay.
“I love you, too,” Yoongi whispers, and it’s oh , so honest. Probably the most honest he has ever been. “I love you, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook’s eyes water, but he doesn’t let himself cry. He nods, and smiles, and brings his head down to Yoongi’s knuckles to kiss them.
“Okay,” he says, better, he whispers. “Alright, good, good, jagiya.”
It is good. Yoongi agrees with him.
“It is that simple,” he mutters, taking his thumb over the tattoos on Jungkook’s hand. Despite his fears, and his trauma, and his desperation, it is that simple. Maybe not always, maybe not forever, and maybe he does need to work through some things after all, but it is that simple right now. And good that it is, because Yoongi feels really fucking tired, and he doesn’t have the energy for a high-level mental breakdown. “Jungkookie, can you bring me another glass of water, please?”
And because it is that simple for him more than it is for Yoongi, Jungkook smiles and nods.
“Of course, jagiya.”
Yoongi fever breaks off the following night.
He still feels like dead-weight and the levels of phlegm in his throat are obscene, but at least he can think properly and can see Jungkook’s face better with the lamplight on.
“How’s the headache?”
“Finally bearable.”
Jungkook grins widely. Yoongi has been so out of his usual self these past 36 hours that, between lucid dreams and anxiety-inducing nightmares, he’s been making a list of reasons why he loves Jeon Jungkook. It’s silly and probably not something people in their mid 30s do often, but Yoongi’s high on pain medications and has just realized and admitted to himself that he loves someone romantically for the first time in his life, so, who cares?
One of the top reasons is Jungkook’s smile.
“How about we try my eomma’s soup now?” He suggests, an eyebrow raised. “I’ll warm it up and it will be as good as new, yeah? And I can gush to her how much her soup helped my boyfriend to feel better.”
Yoongi nods, smiling softly at him. After pressing a kiss to his forehead, Jungkook exits the room.
Is it really that simple? Yoongi still feels so much anxiety and guilt. He’s been fighting it, trying to be normal, but it keeps slipping through the cracks. Memories of the life he has led so far, and how well he managed to adjust by himself. His mind keeps asking him, do you really need to be bothering Jungkook? And most of him thinks that he doesn’t, but this one part of him keeps whispering inside his head that Jungkook is here because he loves him and this relationship is a two-way street. This, and the list.
Number two: Jungkook’s voice. Number three: his resilience. Number four: his ability to make Yoongi smile even when he hates his life. Number five: his hugs.
When Jungkook comes back to the room this time, is with a bowl of his mother’s soup and a huge glass of juice. He places the juice on the counter and offers Yoongi a spoonful of the soup. The idea of letting Jungkook feed him is as foreign as it was yesterday morning, on the first time they tried this, but Yoongi won’t be difficult anymore. Jungkook looks at him with so much intent, so much love. The least he could do is try. He opens his mouth and lets his boyfriend feed him.
It’s the best soup Yoongi has ever had, and he can’t even feel all of his taste buds yet. He asks Jungkook if he can have some more, and it’s like the younger man has won the lottery. He sprints out of the room to grab more, and Yoongi takes that time to test if he can grab a glass by himself. It’s hard, but he manages. He drinks the entire thing, and it only hurts half as bad as it did yesterday.
Jungkook hasn’t let him look at his phone the entire time, says it’s more about his obsession with work than the fact looking at the blue lights would make his headache worse, but now that most of the pain in his head has subsided along the fever, and Yoongi’s deadline hasn’t disappeared just because he’s sick, he fishes it from the drawer in his nightstand and turns on the device.
“Why do you have that thing in your hands, jagiya?” Jungkook complains as soon as he reenters the room, bowl full of soup. He places it on the nightstand next to the empty glass and pouts. “You’re not healed just because your fever broke, alright? You still need rest and lots of fluid.”
“I know, Jungkookie, but I have a-”
“Deadline, I am aware,” Jungkook sighs, pressing his palm against Yoongi’s forehead. “I talked to Yijeong, okay? He told me he’d talk to your boss so he’d exchange the deadline. You’re okay, you don’t need to strain yourself right now.”
Yoongi sighs, reading through the messages Yijeong had sent him over the last couple days, the final one being don’t worry, yoongi, just take care of yourself, i’ll talk to the big boss .
“He’s just trying to be nice, the deadline isn’t flexible,” he tells Jungkook. “I need to finish this song tomorrow, or else it’s going to screw up the entire thing.”
“Who is the song for?”
“Jin.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Right.” Yoongi runs a hand over his face. “His album is coming out soon, and he needs the songs ready, Jungkookie. I can’t just lay here and wait for everything to be working perfectly in my systems. I need the song to be ready.”
Jungkook nods, placing a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder over the sheet. “Let me help you, then. We make good music together, don’t we? I understand your thought process. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not?” Jungkook smiles softly. “Let’s make music, Min Yoongi-sunbaenim.”
Yoongi’s home studio isn’t as big or fancy as the company’s, but it will do.
At first, Jungkook wanted them to do this via KaKaoTalk, but Yoongi convinced his boyfriend he isn’t too sick to walk a few steps inside his own apartment and sit down on the very comfortable chair he has in his studio. With a thin blanket and several bottles of water in hand, Jungkook helped him settle down, but refused to let him put headphones on. He will do that part.
They have been here countless times over the past six months; working on music, goofing around, singing karaoke, judging other people’s taste. Often eating sushi, drinking soju, or soda. Once or twice, making out. Jungkook makes him feel young in more ways than one. In ways Yoongi hadn’t previously experienced. And this made him feel so silly at first. He questioned if dating someone a decade younger than him was the right move, if he could even provide for Jungkook in the way he needed Yoongi to, if he could be as good as someone Jungkook’s own age would, or at least, someone with a little more experience than Yoongi in this kind of thing. They hooked up for months, and in Yoongi’s mind, that was it, really. Not because he didn’t want more, but because his brain didn’t exactly comprehend the idea of more. It makes him feel even sillier to think about this now.
“What is the song called?” Jungkook asks as soon as he finishes listening to the instrumentals Yoongi had been producing for it. “I really like it, it has a nice vibe, kind of groovy, quiet. Romantic, even.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi replies, coughing around the words. He drinks a bit of water. “It’s called SDL.”
“And SDL stands for…?”
Yoongi smiles. “Somebody does love.”
“Awn, that’s so cute,” Jungkook grins, scrunching his nose. Number one on the list, most definitely. “Do you have some lyrics for it?”
“Yeah, I was gonna record the guide version, but… I don’t think I can anymore.” Yoongi scratches the back of his head. “My voice wasn’t that great before, but I’m sure it’s so much worse with phlegm all over my throat.”
“Nonsense, your voice is great, I love it.”
“No need to flatter me,” Yoongi chuckles ( ouch, ouch, ouch ). “I’m a much better rapper than singer, Jungkookie. But you, you are a great singer, probably the greatest, even if you insanely insist that you are not. Could you record the guide version for me?”
Jungkook’s eyes go wide. “Me, are you sure?”
“Honestly, I’d ask you to record every single one of my songs if you’d let me.” His throat starts to scratch again, so Yoongi takes a large gulp of water. “So, yes, Jeon Jungkook, I’m pretty sure.”
“No need to flatter me…”
“I will,” Yoongi interrupts. “For the rest of my life, if you allow me to.”
Jungkook gulps down, puts a hand over Yoongi’s.
“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters with a wink. Yoongi smiles. “So, show me the lyrics, how does the song go?”
“There’s a rap part that I wrote, I don’t know if it fits well, but, uh, Seokjin and I have joked around about collabing for ages, and you know I don’t do that much anymore, but it could be fun, so I already recorded that part, and only the vocals are missing,” Yoongi says in one breath, and it takes a whole fucking lot out of him. He stops to regain his breath, and Jungkook keeps rubbing his knee, telling him not to speak so much. Yoongi feels so warm. And so, so breathless. He needs to get better soon. “Here are the lyrics for the vocal part.”
He offers his phone to Jungkook, who grabs it to read through the words. Yoongi fidgets with his own fingers as he waits. That part never stops giving him anxiety; showing your work to someone you care about, waiting for them to say what they think of it. Jungkook puts on his frown again, and Yoongi busies himself with drinking the rest of the first water bottle to lessen his concerns.
“I love it,” his boyfriend says after another minute. “It’s so beautiful, so romantic. You were inspired, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ve been inspired lately,” Yoongi agrees, cheeks heating up. If he didn’t feel so weak, he might have turned around on the chair just so Jungkook couldn’t see him blush, but this is a lost cause now. “There’s someone, you know, who keeps inspiring me.”
“Yeah, what’s his name?”
Yoongi shrugs, “Who said it’s a he?”
“Silly,” Jungkook breathes out in the midst of a chuckle. “Tell me how to sing it? Just don’t push your voice too much. You’re still healing.”
“Okay,” Yoongi agrees.
After he coughs his way around very softly singing the song, Jungkook brings the microphone close and puts the headphones on. He drinks water and warms up his voice, laughs about not being prepared to sing, and Yoongi watches, kind of totally fascinated, how quickly Jungkook is able to get ready for things like this. His tongue itches to say what he’s been preaching about for months, that Jungkook was born to be on stage and not behind it, but he holds himself back for now. For now, to enjoy his boyfriend singing one of his songs. It’s not the first time, not even close, and it certainly won’t be the last, but Yoongi’s addicted to it.
He can’t ever get enough of Jungkook singing for him songs that he wrote and produced. Yoongi would probably perish if he’s ever able to get Jungkook on an official record. Written and produced by him, or by the two of them, and sung by Jungkook. Rapped by him? They would make a good team on stage too, wouldn’t they? Yoongi thinks they fit in every way two people can fit (how did he not realize this was love?).
“Somebody does love,” Jungkook sings, eyes closed, a silly smile on his face. “I’m thinking about you, somebody does love, I’m thinking about you, you, you, you…”
Yoongi smiles. He thinks maybe it’s time to move Jungkook’s voice to the number one reason he loves him. It’s just that good, but then again, everything about Jungkook is that good. Not even if Yoongi lived three other lives, it would be enough to deserve this man, but he won’t say that out loud; Jungkook would disagree and pout and roll his eyes and tell Yoongi he needs to stop this madness of believing himself not to be deserving of love, and yeah, maybe he’s right, but even if he isn’t, Yoongi doesn’t think he could let him go. In all his selfishness, he won’t let him go.
“Somebody does love,” Jungkook sings again, this time with his eyes on him. “I’m thinking about Min Yoongi , somebody does love, I’m thinking about Min Yoongi -”
“That’s not how it goes,” Yoongi laughs and coughs, and feels himself die just a little bit, for two different reasons. One, because the flu is trying to take his soul away, and second, because Jungkook is the most beautiful human being he has ever laid his eyes on. “We’re recording this, Kook-ah…”
“I’m thinking about Min Yoongi,” he sings again in the midst of a laugh of his own, and oh, God, he is so pretty, so kind, so good. Yoongi could love him forever, even if he doesn’t deserve it, he could. He will. If Jungkook lets him. “Somebody does love, I’m thinking about you, you, you, you…”
“So silly…” Yoongi chuckles, and it hurts so bad, but he can’t find it himself to care. How can he not laugh when Jungkook’s so funny? “Please, focus! We have a deadline.”
“We?” Jungkook repeats, lifting an eyebrow. “We have a deadline, jagiya?”
Yoongi presses his lips together, and nods.
“Yeah, we do. We’re a team, aren’t we?”
Jungkook smiles and clears his throat before starting from the top.
Once, a long time ago, someone told Yoongi that people like him, like them, would never be able to be truly happy, and he thinks he believed it.
Maybe that is why he settled for a life where he didn’t need anyone for anything, ever. Maybe that is why he didn’t call anyone when he hurt his shoulder, or when his mother fell ill. Maybe that is why he bought a huge penthouse and never filled it with pictures, or animals, or plants. Maybe that is why most love songs he’s written are about breakups and heartbreaks, and never about actual love. Maybe that is why letting Jungkook in felt so weird, and so foreign. Maybe that is why Yoongi cried when he realized Jungkook just wanted to take care of him without gaining anything in return, because people always want something, don’t they?
For the entirety of Friday, Yoongi toys around the idea of going to therapy. By nightfall on Saturday, when he finally feels like a human being again, throat mostly clear of phlegm, he decides that is a good idea. He doesn’t want to lose Jungkook because of ghosts from his past; that’s too cliché.
“Look at you,” Jungkook gapes, touching his cheeks once Yoongi emerges from the bathroom after washing his entire body and soul. “You’re no longer pale.”
“I’m often very pale, sick or not,” Yoongi counters. “Should we go to Busan, hit the beach?”
Jungkook blinks.
“Who are you and what has the flu done to my boyfriend?”
Yoongi doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he chooses to step forward, hold Jungkook by the hips and press a kiss to his lips instead. They have done so much talking these last few days, and Yoongi has started to learn how important it is to do said talking, but he missed kissing him. Of course, they shouldn’t do too much of that; Yoongi’s still contagious, even if not so much anymore. And there’s no real guarantee that Jungkook didn’t catch it yet, but if he has, Yoongi will take care of him, and happily so.
Taking care of people he cares for is safe territory.
“I love this,” Jungkook whispers against his lips, taking both hands to rest on Yoongi’s shoulders. “Are you serious about us going to Busan? My eomma was so happy you liked her soup, she’d love it if we stayed there for a week, she’d cook you simply every dish ever. She went back to Busan a couple days ago, but she keeps asking me if you’re okay all the time.”
“Does she care about me that much?” Yoongi asks, frowning. “We’ve only met once.”
“Well, my eomma cares about anyone who cares about me,” Jungkook replies as if that is the simplest math in the world. Maybe it is for some people. Yoongi kind of envies that, but he’s glad that this is Jungkook’s example of love. “And now that we dropped the big L word, she will care about you even more.”
Yoongi smiles. “I love you.”
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“Good, because I intend to keep saying it, and it would be kind of shitty if you got tired of hearing it…”
Jungkook giggles and scrunches his nose in that way Yoongi loves so much. He presses their lips together again and brings him to the couch. It’s so late, but it’s Saturday, and they have so many dramas to catch up on. Jungkook curls on him, a heavy blanket over their intertwined limbs, hands together under it. Yoongi touches his hand tattoos with his thumb again.
“I love when you trace my tattoos when you think I’m asleep,” Jungkook mutters. “It feels so good.”
He looks at him. “Why did you never say you were awake?”
“Just because,” Jungkook shrugs. Before he can say anything else, a violent coughing fit takes over his body. Yoongi caresses his back, frowning deeply, telling him to breathe and calm down. When he comes back from it, all red and sweaty, Jungkook chuckles. “Oops, I think I caught your cold. Take care of me?”
Yoongi caresses his cheek, heart so full of love he thinks he might explode.
“It’ll be my pleasure, jagiya.”