Archive of Our Own

Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind.

If Jungkook could do anything at all, he thinks he’d want to walk on the moon one day. Namjoon had always talked about it with such reverence and care that Jungkook wants to experience that same splendor for himself. He wants to know what it’s like to have all of Namjoon’s hopes and dreams beneath his feet.

Namjoon used to call Jungkook his sun from time to time—his guiding light, the one celestial being that lit up his sky. But Namjoon had always been partial to the moon, calling it his love, his heart, his everything.

Jungkook wants to go back to a time in which it was just him and Namjoon. He swears it doesn’t even have to be a moment spent gazing lovingly at each other or anything like that. He’d be happy with any moment that existed between them, love radiating from all ends of the spectrum before Namjoon had torn them apart.

After reveling in the memory for a bit, Jungkook would then take the opportunity to visit the moment in which Namjoon fell out of love with him. He wants to see the look on Namjoon’s face as he came to the realization, wants so badly to confront Namjoon, tell him to turn around and go back to the feelings he’d just flickered off. If Namjoon could just tell Jungkook what he’d done to make him fall out of love with him…maybe then Jungkook would find peace.

More than that, Jungkook wants to see Namjoon lose it the way he currently is, wants so badly to see Namjoon fall apart as he grapples with the truth that maybe, just maybe, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t his end all be all, after all.

Maybe it would be satisfying, maybe it would be cathartic. Maybe it would be everything their break up hadn’t been. Maybe Jungkook would finally have the chance to speak.

His gut gently corrects him, though, reminding him that Namjoon is probably out there living his best life, untethered to the one who’d been holding him down.

He hates it. Wants it all to disappear with the flick of a switch, just like Namjoon’s love for him had up and vanished one day. Namjoon has cracked open his heart and the first thing Jungkook thinks is that he’d like to protect the culprit from his own hand.

Jungkook scoffs. It’s pathetic—no, he’s pathetic. It’s a fact he’s been coming to terms with over the past few weeks. It doesn’t hurt like it used to once before, all jagged edges and harsh corners that wouldn’t stop poking and prodding at the tender sinew of his heart, laid out bare for the world to see.

And lastly, Jungkook wants to turn and watch his younger self smile and remain painfully aloof.

Oh, you fool, he longs to warn an infinitely happier Jeon Jungkook. He’s going to break your heart.

The sun streams in between the blinds and streaks rays of light across his face, so Jungkook pulls his down comforter over his head in a half-hearted attempt to escape. It turns out to be a mistake, though, as he breathes in the remnants of Namjoon’s favorite cologne that have worn themselves into the covers.

Light continues to filter past Jungkook’s covered eyelids through the blanket and he groans, unable to get away.

He can’t get away, it seems. Not when it comes to Namjoon.

Namjoon had always joked that Jungkook was the sun while he was the moon, shining so bright in all his glory. As if it were the highest compliment Namjoon could offer at the time, Jungkook had basked in the older man’s praise.

Now Jungkook wishes for the reappearance of that selfsame moon, quiet enough in its presence that maybe, just maybe he’d be able to find some rest.

No, he reminds himself. His head shakes with the knowledge that there’s no one here to witness it.

Jungkook can personally attest to the fact that the moonlight makes him want to cry. He’s been so good so far, lying in bed and just barely holding it together over the past few days, but it’s clear this is only the tip of the iceberg. It’s too early to applaud himself for the wool he’s trying to pull over his own eyes.

It’s been 51 years, to the day, since the first humans set foot on the moon. We came in peace for all mankind, their flag read.

It’s been 9 days and 16 hours since Namjoon last set foot in Jungkook’s life. I’m sorry, he’d whispered one final time, before taking all their most cherished memories with him for good.

After three years of dating and nearly double that length of being best friends, Jungkook isn’t sure what to make of his relationship with Namjoon. He’s so used to being the other man’s world, the reason he smiled on rainy days, the one on the receiving end of wide-eyed soliloquies at three o’clock in the morning when storms would range and the thunder would roll.

Now, Jungkook lies next to him in bed and there are a million miles between them, every accidental touch shocking his system and sending it into reboot. Namjoon is so near yet so far away, and Jungkook doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be if his place isn’t the one right beside him.

It would’ve been infinitely better if they’d been honest with their friends from the start. Sure, it would’ve been awkward at first while everyone figured out their boundaries again, but Jungkook thinks it would be preferable to the hell they’re living through now.

Maybe it’s selfish of him to think about the whole situation with his feelings in mind. Maybe this is why Namjoon broke up with him—because Jungkook is a selfish kid who can’t stop dwelling in his own pain, can’t look up from the mess of his own heart long enough to join everyone else in celebrating Yoongi and Seokjin’s love for one another.

The two eldest hyungs are finally getting married and in lieu of any sort of bachelor party, the saps had insisted on renting out an AirBnB in Jeju-do with all five of their best friends. They’d called it an extended bachelor party when they’d pitched it to them, but Jungkook knows they secretly refer to it as their fishing retreat when they think no one’s listening.

Ironically enough, only three weeks have passed since Jungkook had seen Namjoon last, since the night Namjoon broke his heart and walked out of his life for the final time.

“One more thing,” Namjoon said as he reached for the doorknob.

Jungkook thought he asked it so simply, so nonchalantly. As if he hadn’t just torn apart Jungkook’s insides without remorse.

But Jungkook was in love with Namjoon and would probably love him for the rest of his life, so he didn’t argue. Jungkook would give Namjoon the shirt off his back; satisfying one last request seemed simple in comparison.

“We should wait to tell the others about this. It’d probably be pretty shitty if we just dropped this on them when Seokjin hyung and Yoongi hyung are getting married soon. Let’s wait, okay?”

And with that, Namjoon was gone.

Jungkook has always been in love with Namjoon. If it were possible, he muses he must have been born with it ingrained deep within his soul, laying dormant until they had finally met in college years ago.

Even amidst arguments and disagreements, there was never a doubt in Jungkook’s mind over Namjoon being The One. He would’ve bet his savings, his future, his entire life on this fact. It became his religion, the one truth he held close when all else seemed to fade away.

There are a lot of things Jungkook is angry with Namjoon about, he realizes somewhat belatedly. If the first few weeks following that night were filled with reminiscing about all the good times they shared, these past few days have left Jungkook simmering.

The way Namjoon had left him with more questions, abandoned him in the midst of it all when he was the only one with the power to guide Jungkook to the answers.

How Namjoon framed his proposition as a mutual decision, how he’d turned the beautiful, all encompassing we into a weapon and held it to Jungkook’s throat while his other hand twisted at the knife he’d plunged into Jungkook’s heart.

Jungkook wants so badly to hate Namjoon, but he’s coming to realize that hate and love are two sides of the selfsame coin. If he doesn’t think he'd ever be able to hate Namjoon, maybe he never really loved him after all.

And maybe this is where Jungkook had gone wrong. He put so much faith into fate and destiny that the thought of putting in effort into so perfect a relationship felt like defeat. Jungkook believed that regardless of the circumstances, it would all work out.

But then it didn’t, and now Jungkook is the only one left to pick up the pieces.

“Welcome to the Hyori House!” Hoseok yells when they finally make it to the AirBnb, throwing his slides off to the side of the entryway and blocking the rest of his friends from entering the home.

Jungkook hears Seokjin yell something along the lines of you’re blocking the way, you asshole, why did I invite you? and is too busy staring at his feet to notice the sudden presence next to him. A big, looming figure casts a shadow over him and while it’s a welcome reprieve from the heat, Jungkook mentally groans at the realization that it’s Namjoon.

It’s easier to groan than it is to cry, easier to call the stone in the pit of his stomach a weight of frustration than one of hurt, of shame, of pure embarrassment in his naive but wholehearted belief that maybe love would find him after all. Jungkook isn’t sure where she lost him, but he would do anything to find his way back.

The ghost of a touch lingers over the small of his back and Jungkook instinctively relaxes before remembering who the touch originates from. Instead, he stiffens and fixes Namjoon with a glare the others can’t see, reveling a little in the way Namjoon falters and immediately returns his hand to his side.

It seems Hoseok finally shuffles forward as the rest of their friends spread out across the landing and the living room of the Hyori House. Floor to ceiling windows abound all around them and it should feel warm with all the sunlight pouring in, but Jungkook just feels uncomfortable, a little too exposed in a skin that doesn’t seem to fit him anymore.

“This looks nothing like the house that was on the show,” Yoongi says, seemingly unimpressed. He has his own duffel strung over his shoulder while his hands are full from bringing in Seokjin’s matching alpaca suitcases.

“You chose this AirBnb,” Jimin retorts, sticking his tongue out at the hyung in question. “It literally said it wasn’t the one that they showed on Hyori’s Bed and Breakfast because they deadass live there.”

Yoongi huffs but otherwise doesn’t say anything. The rest of them try to leave their luggage in various spots around the living room to go explore the rest of the house, but are stopped by a booming voice stemming from Yoongi’s best man and self-proclaimed Master of Ceremonies for the YoonJin Bachelor Party Fishing Trip Extravaganza, Jung Hoseok.

Hoseok tuts at everyone to find a seat because the MC has an announcement to make.

“Alright, bromies. It’s time to run through the rules because we’re a civilized bunch,” Hoseok declares once everyone is settled.

Jimin and Taehyung boo from where they’re nearly conjoined on the couch, but Hoseok pays them no mind. Yoongi pulls Seokjin’s arm to rest over his shoulders and Jungkook catches a glimpse of them sharing a secret, intimate smile before he has to look away, stomach coiling into something uncomfortable.

And when he does, it’s Namjoon’s dark searching eyes he immediately falls upon. Jungkook gulps and nods once before diverting his gaze back down to his hands. It’s a wonder that he feels so out of breath when he’s been sitting down this entire time.

“This is mine and Yoongi’s bachelor party trip, Hoseok-ah. What the fuck do you mean by rules? All we have to do is fish, fuck, and have fun. In that order.” Seokjin shares a proud grin with Yoongi while Jimin and Taehyung make retching noises into each other’s shoulders. Hoseok frowns and takes a step away from the betrothed.

“Sucks to suck, hyung. It’s a family trip now!” Taehyung exclaims once he finds his wits about him again. Hoseok runs over to high five him and they end up executing some elaborate handshake that Jungkook is just going to chock up to some weird mutual best man shit.

“Does this mean we’re all getting married to each other?” Seokjin asks devilishly, throwing his head around in search of someone to laugh along with him.

Jungkook would normally be the first to join in waggling his eyebrows at his boyfriend, but the mere act of looking at Namjoon fills him with a dread Jungkook has never associated with him before. And then he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing when Namjoon coughs awkwardly into his fist.

It seems it’s much too late to play his part now as Seokjin’s gaze flickers curiously between Jungkook and Namjoon. Seokjin shrugs and fixes Jungkook with a look promising he’ll save his questions for later, but it does little to assure him.

“No, of course not,” Jungkook mutters, and even he’s perceptive enough to realize his delivery is completely off.

As a good MC and host, Hoseok takes the opportunity to gather everyone’s attention again and pull something out of the duffle bag he’s been wearing this entire time.

“Surprise! We officially have matching t-shirts for this trip from hell!” He trills, throwing out a flurry of huge clumps of white t-shirts into the air and leaving his friends to fend for themselves in claiming them.

Jungkook has a t-shirt ball launched at his face and he makes quick work of unrolling it to see what it says.

THE LAW OF SIN: THE FINAL SHEBANG

A photo of Seokjin grinning maniacally as he grabs Yoongi's ass is printed big and wide across the front of the t-shirt.

Break up be damned, Jungkook thinks this might turn out to be the best fucking trip ever.

Namjoon leans in close to press a kiss to the shell of Jungkook’s ear. “Smells delicious.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Hyung, I’m literally boiling water.”

“I know. I was talking about you.”

And Jungkook can’t help it, he really can’t. It’s a given that he always short circuits when Namjoon gets this close, regardless of how long they’ve been dating. Jimin always claims Jungkook should be used to it by this point, but he’s convinced the thrill of even standing next to one Kim Namjoon is enough to sustain him to the end of time.

“You’re such a sap,” Jungkook says instead, fixing his eyes on the little bubbles forming at the surface of the pot.

Namjoon burrows his face in the back of Jungkook’s neck and pulls him closer by the waist.

It’s comfortable, just as it always is when Namjoon comes home to Jungkook. He tells him about his day: the people he’s seen, the things he’s done, the lyrics he’s penned—Jungkook wants to know it all.

Jungkook adds the ramyun noodles and seasoning to the small brass pot along with the green onions and tofu he’d chopped up beforehand. He waits a moment for the noodles to loosen before cracking an egg directly into the broth, chopsticks swirling around to transform the intact egg into something much, much more delicious.

Namjoon tells him about some boys he’s mentoring named Yeonjun and Soobin that supposedly remind him of them years ago. Jungkook smiles when Namjoon pauses to slip another egg into Jungkook’s palm.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asks, turning in Namjoon’s hold to look his boyfriend in the eye. “They remind you of us?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon parrots back at him, voice soft and eyes kind. If this is what it means to have someone completely and irrevocably in love with you, Jungkook doesn’t think he’d change it for the world.

“You think Soobin always sneaks extra eggs into Yeonjun’s ramyun just so he can eat it for himself?” Jungkook huffs. “I think not. I’m sure those babies are infinitely more mature than you think you are, mister.”

Namjoon chuckles and moves a hand to cover his mouth. “Babe, you have to officially meet them one day. I swear I’m Yeonjun and you’re Soobin.”

Jungkook hums and focuses his attention on cracking the second egg into the broth. He thinks a fragment of eggshell makes it into the pot, but says nothing while hoping Namjoon doesn’t notice.

He lets the egg sit and poach for a bit before taking it off the heat, knowing full well how much Namjoon loves cooked egg whites with runny yolks in his ramyun. Jungkook is different that way, preferring ribbons of cooked egg clinging to his noodles and coloring his broth from a clear red to a creamy burnt sienna.

Jungkook appreciates the beauty of mess—for all he hates clutter, he enjoys seeing the splatters of color that make life what it is. Namjoon prefers clean lines and distinctions, instead diving into the implications of confines and boundaries before testing them all.

That’s how they are. It’s how Namjoon and Jungkook make sense together.

Namjoon continues chattering about the songs he and Yoongi have been working on, and Jungkook chimes in with questions here and there as the noodles in the pot start to disappear.

“Sorry babe, I dominated our entire conversation didn’t I? How was your day?”

Namjoon’s face is open and earnest, and Jungkook can tell he means every word, genuinely wants to hear about what Jungkook’s been up to. While Jungkook can’t put his finger on what exactly it is, his skin prickles in discomfort.

Still, he pushes through and recalls his day to Namjoon, drinking in how his boyfriend listens so intently, as if none of this is boring in the least. Maybe it’s interesting to see how the normal people live, maybe Namjoon gets some voyeuristic thrill from it. Jungkook entertains the thought for half a second before blinking it away.

Namjoon loves him, and he’s been in love with Jungkook since before he started taking to the stage and performing to crowds of people equally in love with him. Fame hasn’t changed Namjoon in the slightest, other than allowing him to lose 33 pairs of AirPods as if they were no big deal.

The logistical parts of life have gotten easier for the two of them, what with how much money Namjoon’s been raking in over the past few years. He’s still humble as ever, just like Yoongi and Hoseok are, never bragging about his wealth or going out of his way to lord it over anyone—this isn’t the problem.

The problem, if Jungkook wants to call it that, is that he isn’t sure where he fits into all of this anymore. He’s painfully normal in his rag-tag group of famous friends. Cypher is penning chart-toppers and breaking records left and right, and now even America is getting involved and trying to bring them over.

Jin just got cast in a drama from the creators of the Reply series called Courtroom Playlist that everyone and their mother knows is going to take off. Taehyung recently made headlines after signing an exclusive with Gucci this season to be the highest-paid Korean fashion model of all time.

Hell, even Jimin is out there living his best life as a YouTuber. He’s getting ready to put out his second set of conspiracy theory videos while fielding calls from Shane & Ryan to be the third co-host of Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Jungkook watches Namjoon shyly slurp up his share of ramyun, and his heart squeezes at how painfully domestic, how painfully normal he looks. There’s no makeup on his face, no stars in his eyes, and the walls nearly echo with how much Jungkook adores and looks up to Namjoon.

He isn’t sure how this differentiates him from a fan anymore.

Seokjin is out for a run the next morning when Jungkook wakes up and pads downstairs to join the others for breakfast. The clock on the wall reads a firm nine o’clock and Jungkook does his best to avoid dwelling on the fact that this is the best sleep he’s gotten since he and Namjoon officially broke up. Seokjin had declared that the first night would be spent with everyone sleeping together in the basement, and Jungkook had lapped up the chance to squeeze himself between the ever cuddly duo of Jimin and Taehyung.

It seems they’ve decided on a Western spread for breakfast judging from the smell of eggs and bacon in the air. Namjoon always liked eggs with rice for breakfast, delighting in the way his wooden spoon would take to the bright yellow sunshine in his bowl and leave runny yolk slathered all over his rice.

If Jungkook learned anything at all from his ex-boyfriend, it was how to find pleasure in the little things, especially with how fast-paced and never ending Namjoon’s life was. Despite all the schedules and concerts and jet-setting he did, Namjoon always found time to play with Monie and go for bike rides that soothed his soul. Sometimes Jungkook joined him, because Namjoon’s presence alone had been enough to soothe his.

Jungkook’s still in that weird space between asleep and awake, so he saunters between the kitchen and living room, pouting when his feet stick to the tile. The only person at the table is Namjoon scrolling through his phone, though Jungkook thinks he hears other voices floating in from the living room.

Namjoon’s glasses sit slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. A cowlick on the side of his head greets Jungkook as he steps closer.

For a moment, it’s as if they’re transported back to a time when they were happy—both of them. It isn’t Lee Hyori’s fancy Jeju-do kitchen that Jungkook finds himself in, but Namjoon’s, with all its simple fixtures and homey touches. With a monstera here and a birds of paradise there, Jungkook blinks and he’s back to the one place he hasn’t had the chance to say goodbye to just yet.

Without thinking, he approaches Namjoon and crouches down to meet him at eye level, because this is what mornings always demand of them.

Jungkook presses a kiss to Namjoon’s temple before moving away to survey his face. He reaches out to hold Namjoon’s head in his hands, pulling him closer to press gentle kisses to his forehead. Namjoon’s face hovers over the base of Jungkook’s throat and he can catch notes of Namjoon’s favorite aftershave mingling with the scent of Jungkook’s favorite peach body wash.

For a moment it’s like they both forget everything that’s transpired between them, and Jungkook revels in the familiarity of Namjoon’s skin against his. Namjoon slips a hand beneath the edge of Jungkook’s shirt and Jungkook pushes into the touch. The palms of Namjoon’s warm, callused hands always run a little hotter than the rest of him, and they travel slowly but reverently across Jungkook’s hips, dipping below his waistband to press equally warm thumbs against either side of his pelvis.

Then Jungkook remembers.

It must show on his face somehow because Namjoon’s expression shifts, eyes pinching in the corners with a particular kind of sorrow that pains Jungkook to see. It leaves the thumbprints Namjoon is still pressing into his hips feeling like sears to his skin, but still Jungkook leans in, thirsting for any touch he can get. He bites his lip but makes no move to pull away, and for a moment Jungkook closes his eyes and pretends these past few weeks have all been a nightmare he’s only now waking from.

He isn’t sure how long Namjoon’s been awake, can’t tell if the way he touched Jungkook was real or imagined.

But the illusion is already shattered and Jungkook has no clue what he’s supposed to do anymore. Surely Namjoon has expectations—anyone with a brain should know what Jungkook is supposed to do when the love of his life tells him they should break up and put to rest everything they once were.

He just isn’t sure any of those people would have a clue about pretending they’re still in love in front of their closest friends.

Someone hoots and hollers in the background, and if there was a knife to his throat, Jungkook would confidently say it’s a mix of Taehyung and Hoseok’s booming voices trying to lift everyone’s spirits before they’re all tasked with the various activities the two of them have planned for today.

Namjoon finally pulls his hand away and busies himself with muttering something unintelligible and refusing to meet Jungkook’s gaze. He tracks the way Namjoon picks at the skin around his thumb. It’s a nervous habit of his, and for now, it’s enough of an apology to warrant pulling his own hands away.

Jungkook walks back into the kitchen as if in a daze and once he’s out of everyone’s line of sight, he stops to take a deep breath.

In, in, in.

Out, out, out, out.

Fuck. Jungkook bites his lip and tries his best to keep the sudden tears in his eyes from falling. His fists clench where he has them against the counter, so he tosses his head back and blinks several times in succession to keep the tears at bay.

Once he starts he’s never going to stop, and if that finally happens, he and Namjoon are fucked. The entire trip is fucked to hell if it happens in front of his hyungs, and both Seokjin and Yoongi deserve more from them. From him.

Yoongi might’ve been Namjoon’s hyung first, but over the many years of knowing and pestering the man, Jungkook considers him one of the people he trusts most in the world. He’s taken Jungkook under his wing as they work on his debut EP, and Jungkook owes him the world.

The same thing goes for his always precious, always dependable Seokjin hyung. Jungkook remembers how despite his own busy schedule, Jin always made time to take care of his dongsaeng, bringing over his favorite snacks when an exam didn’t go his way or tying an apron around his waist and personally nursing Jungkook back to health when he was sick.

And maybe this is where the crux of his displacement lies.

Jungkook isn’t famous. He’s so painfully normal that no one would ever have a reason to believe he shits rainbows or gallivants with unicorns in his free time. Namjoon spits verses like it’s no one’s businesses in front of tens of thousands of people while Jungkook sits on the battered couch in the green room, starry-eyed with wonder at his boyfriend’s otherworldly stage presence.

Seeing the love of his life shine in front of him has been one of the best parts of Jungkook’s young life, though the past few months have had Jungkook start considering it from a completely new angle.

For so long Jungkook has wondered if the dream he’s held is a mere product of spending his time with some of the top figures in the music industry. Now, though, he’s finally coming into his own. Jungkook has an opportunity to make his own breakthrough for once and it feels really fucking good.

Maybe the moment Jungkook started taking ownership of his own life was the moment Namjoon realized he could have someone better suited for his lifestyle.

He shakes his head. He can’t write off the complexity of Namjoon’s thoughts as easily as that. Regardless of how he feels about the situation they’ve found themselves in, he still trusts Namjoon with everything he has. Namjoon has never led him astray, never made a decision without gesticulating and measuring every outcome.

Whether Namjoon still loves him or not isn’t the right question.

If he’s being honest with himself, Jungkook is still trying to figure out what the question even is.

Hyori and Sangsoon’s boat is humble for who they are, but still enormous in size. It fits all seven of them easily, and Jimin squeals in delight when he sees the dark wood paneling signaling the presence of a closed-off air-conditioned space. The man always overheats the fastest out of the seven of them and insists that comfort is fashion, indeed.

“Uh, doesn’t someone need a boating license for us to go off without a captain?” Namjoon asks pointedly. For how much Jungkook hates him right now, he raises a good point.

“Do you really think I’d let us go out without a captain?” Seokjin adjusts the Ray Ban’s that slide down his nose. “Don’t worry, Joon-ah. We have someone onboard with a license. It’s okay if it isn’t you.”

“Um, okay. Is it you?”

Seokjin clucks his tongue but otherwise focuses on applying sunscreen to the rest of his face. He completely slathers it on with no regard for blending it into his skin, and Jungkook bites his tongue to keep from laughing.

“You really think I could pay attention long enough to get a boating license? Fuck that, it was Yoongi.”

Namjoon chuckles and Jungkook averts his eyes, instead moving closer to where Taehyung is at the back of the boat, limbs spread luxuriously across the leather seats.

Goddamn, leave it to fucking Kim Taehyung to turn every setting into that of a photoshoot. One can take the model out of the set, but it seems a model is always, well. A model.

“Hey! Get over here, you brat!” Taehyung calls, opening his arms in invitation.

Jungkook doesn’t need to be asked twice.

Once he makes his way into Taehyung’s hold and situates himself across the rest of the cushions, Taehyung pats his head and blows at Jungkook’s bangs. “How’s work coming along, babe?”

This part is easy. This part Jungkook can do in his sleep.

“It’s going alright. Yoongi hyung’s been really awesome about teaching me everything there is to know about putting a song together, and Hobi hyung’s probably introduced me to everyone in the building at this point.”

“Yoongi hyung and Hoseok hyung are the best,” Taehyung agrees solemnly, leaving space for Jungkook to continue if he’d like.

Jungkook hasn’t really had a chance to process everything happening yet, but he thinks lounging on a boat in the sea is a good place to start. Taehyung’s arms around him diminish all his thoughts and cares to nothing, and he finds that for a moment, the anxiety that usually colors his take on the career change he’s making is nowhere to be found.

“I don’t really care about the success,” he says honestly, light seeping into his eyes even as he squeezes them shut. “I just want to learn and grow and do the best that I can.”

Success is never guaranteed in the entertainment industry. While Jungkook is giving infinitely more than he ever thought was in him, he also knows that this EP could be the first and last of his career. He’s prepared to give all he’s got and move on to the next thing without regrets if that’s the way the cards fall.

“Good for you,” Taehyung says, and it feels like the highest of compliments coming from him.

Taehyung is always genuine, always looking out for his friends. There’s nothing he wants more than to see his friends succeed, and Jungkook wants so badly to make him proud.

As surreptitiously as he can, Jungkook fits himself even deeper into the final spaces that exist between him and Taehyung. The older man happily accepts, humming as he fits his chin over Jungkook’s head.

“Cuddly today, aren’t you?” Taehyung asks, a goofy smile stretching across his lips. He takes Jungkook even further into his arms and Jungkook hums in contentment. If he could stay here forever, he thinks he would. Surrounded by the salty sea air and Taehyung’s expensive beeswax lotion is everything Jungkook imagines happiness to be.

“What about Namjoon hyung? Has he been able to stop gushing about you long enough to actually get some work done?”

And well. Jungkook isn’t sure where to begin with answering this question considering he hasn’t seen Namjoon in weeks, let alone worked with him in just as long. Namjoon’s been holed up in his studio since their breakup, and Jungkook’s naturally bumped up the number of hours he spent with the rest of the BigHit production team.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda strange isn’t it? He’s my boyfriend,” Jungkook starts, taking extra care to keep the word boyfriend from getting caught in his throat. “It’s weird enough as is that I’m riding on his coattails to even get this kind of opportunity.”

Taehyung’s arms tighten around him. “You know it isn’t like that, Kook. No one thinks you’re only getting this chance because you’re his boyfriend. Big Hit isn’t SM—they’re known for quality, not nepotism.”

When Taehyung puts it like that, it’s so easy for Jungkook to believe. Still, the niggling voice in his brain arguing otherwise is a hard one to ignore.

“You’re good, really good. I’ve heard some of your samples myself and it’s better than half the things that already exist in the world, babe.  Just a little while longer and you’ll be the talk of the town.”

Jungkook frowns, squeezing his eyes even tighter. Instead of complete darkness he’s met with the burning orange of the sun behind his eyelids. It’s incessant in its pursuit of Jungkook’s attention.

He doesn’t know if he wants to be the talk of the town. Doesn’t know if it’s right to desire fame solely for the possibility of it leveling the wide, wide gap between himself and his hyungs.

But Taehyung’s praise is something, and the words themselves mean the world.

“I’m not famous like you guys, I don’t know why you’re friends with me.”

Taehyung stills. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have anything to offer you guys. I’m just…me.”

A pause, and Jungkook can hear Taehyung swallow through the ear he has on his chest. Jungkook burrows his face even deeper, refusing to acknowledge the little tears that sneak out of his eyes.

“I believe that you’re great whether you’re famous or not. Ask any one of us, and we’ll all tell you the same thing. We love you because you’re kind, because you always do your best, because you love us with all you have. I think you’ll be successful, but even on the off chance you didn’t find fame, it wouldn’t change any of our opinions of you.”

Jungkook nods slowly, smearing little droplets of moisture all over Taehyung’s expensive shirt.

“Is that what’s been getting you all down lately?” Taehyung asks, voice deliberately taking on a lighter tone. “You big baby, we fucking love you. All you had to do was say something. Fame is a part of the puzzle, but it isn’t the biggest piece of who you are. Nothing can ever change that. You’re my best friend.”

He knows it isn’t appropriate to counter his best friend when he waxes poetic about him like this, so Jungkook takes the compliments and kind words for what they are.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell Taehyung that maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it’s much easier to fall out of love with Jungkook than he thinks.

For all Jungkook has been worried about acting like a couple in front of their friends, he doesn’t know what to do when they barely make it through their first day and are greeted with the sight of one queen bed in their room.

Namjoon, awkward as ever, suggests they go with the same arrangement they’d followed throughout their relationship. Jungkook nods and agrees, not needing his ex-boyfriend to walk him through any of the logistics he already knows by heart.

“No one’s in the room with us so I guess we won’t be expected to cuddle or anything like that.”

And Jungkook hates that Namjoon can say it so casually. He refers to the touches they’d used to show their love for one another so callously, and Jungkook feels cheap as his forearms pebble with goosebumps.

They make quick work of undressing and changing into their respective sleep clothes, an unspoken agreement between them that has both men with their backs to each other. It’s also unspoken that despite both Jungkook and Namjoon usually going to bed shirtless, they both slide on t-shirts tonight.

Jungkook brushes his teeth and washes up in silence, nodding once at a dozing Namjoon when he comes out to signal that he can use the bathroom for himself now. He isn’t sure what on earth he’s supposed to do now, doesn’t know what the protocol for sharing a bed with his ex is.

Does he wait up like he always did so he could say a proper goodnight?

Does he just turn his back to the rest of the room and let himself appear asleep? Is that rude? Does it matter if he’s rude to Namjoon now? Would Namjoon even care?

After much debate, it seems the argument is settled for him as he hears Namjoon finish up in the bathroom and make to return to their bedroom. Jungkook chooses to lean against the headboard with his phone in one hand, scrolling nonchalantly through his Instagram and pretending to catch up with the happy, beautiful lives of everyone else he knows.

Namjoon must take him still being awake as a sign that he wants to make small talk, because he starts with, “So, have fun today?”

Jungkook hates it on principle. He sets his phone down next to his pillow with more force than necessary. There’s no use in trying to act civil when there’s no one for them to perform before.

“Sure,” he grits out, because Namjoon lost any and all rights to know about his life the moment he said he didn’t think he could love Jungkook anymore.

“I don’t really like seafood, but the fish we caught was good, yeah? Yoongi hyung did a really good job—“

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Namjoon comes to a complete halt, attempting a nervous glance over at Jungkook.

“Don’t fucking talk to me.” And because Jungkook has manners unlike the person sitting next to him, he tacks on a quiet, “please” that has his voice wavering.

“I—“

“What part of don’t fucking talk to me do you not understand?

“Jungkook, please.”

“You decided you didn’t want me anymore. You can’t just come back and pretend like you do all of a sudden. Life doesn’t work like that.”

“You know it wasn’t like that,” Namjoon attempts, and Jungkook can’t get over how fucking clueless Namjoon can be sometimes.

He doesn’t fucking know what their breakup was about, doesn’t know where the fuck it came from. Doesn’t know why it happened, because the one person who does won’t fucking tell him.

“How the hell am I supposed to know anything? You left. You left me. I didn’t get any fucking explanation as to why you suddenly thought I wasn’t worth loving anymore, and now you have the nerve to sit here and try to ask me about my day? Fuck you. Fuck you.”

Namjoon recoils as if he’s been hit, the first sign of emotion Jungkook’s seen from him in months.

And fuck. Jungkook can’t help the tears that pour down his cheeks and the way his voice catches as he tries to open his mouth again. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to understand, and Namjoon doesn’t think he’s worthy enough of hearing these very things.

They were supposed to be partners for life and now they’re here, stuck in this beautiful mess of a limbo that demands any and all emotion to be tucked away from the rest of the world. Maybe this is what is what Yoongi had meant whenever he’d said there was a cost to the fame they all enjoyed.

Jungkook wanted to just go to bed, wanted to rest in the quiet after a long day of pretending, but once he’s started he can’t seem to stop. The words tumble out of his mouth as if they’re racing to a finish line, though Jungkook can’t begin to guess what the prize could be.

“It just…it just feels so unfair that I’m still so affected by you, hyung. Here you are on the other side of your bed minding your own business, and I’m the one who can’t stop crying every night. You’ve already left me behind, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around a life without you when you’re always here next to me. And that Jungkook? The one who agreed to this whole thing? I hate him. I hate him for being so selfish because I’m here dying from you constantly touching me like it doesn’t mean anything.”

There. Jungkook’s practically laid everything out on the line for Namjoon to see. He hates how vulnerable he’s letting himself be in front of the man who broke his heart without any reasons, but it must be force of habit by this point. Either Jungkook hates himself enough to bare his soul to his ex-boyfriend, or it’s just him slipping up in front of the person who was supposed to love him the most.

“Kook—”

“I know, I’m sorry. All of this is really out of line,” Jungkook laughs without humor. “Just…just forget crazy old me who’s still hung up on you, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Namjoon is silent, and Jungkook thinks he sees one of his hands locked tight in a fist at his side. He huffs and turns over before burrowing himself deeper into the blankets. Shuts his eyes and wills the feelings that has been plaguing him to just leave him be.

It isn’t something he likes allowing himself to be—soft with emotion, pliant and waiting for the care of another. Most times it was Namjoon who did the caring for him, and the reminder of the reverent way he always touched Jungkook sends a pang through his chest.

Namjoon used to hug Jungkook with a ferocity that sent prickles of fear down Jungkook’s spine in the beginning. There’s no way he’ll stay, his mind used to mock. He’s going to burn out and lose his hold on you.

Namjoon’s long, nimble fingers would play him better than the worn piano in his studio, wringing out sounds no machine could ever hope to replicate. It was always in these moments that fingertips pressing into Jungkook’s waist, his hips, his shoulders, would bring him back into his own existence. Grounding, reassuring.

Namjoon always knew how to care for him, silently sliding over a carton of banana milk or reaching for Jungkook’s special black nail polish in their medicine cabinet on the hard days.

“I like putting it on when I’m sad,” Jungkook had told him a few months after they started dating. “It lets me tell people I’m not happy without needing to say it out loud.”

Namjoon had just nodded and hummed, unscrewing the top and taking one of Jungkook’s hands in his. Where Namjoon has always been a loud tornado sending things broken and flying into thin air, his touch was gentle that day and every one after.

“My sister went through a phase in middle school where all she wore on her nails was black nail polish,” Namjoon had mused. “I can already tell this black is better than all her old ones combined, though.”

Jungkook wonders if there’s a color deeper than the black he owns. Wonders what it’d feel like to brush it on his nails and witness what the textbooks meant when they said that darkness was the absence of light.

Black is the summation of every color under the sun, and white is what appears when Jungkook slides all his CMYK levels to zero in Photoshop for fun. Jungkook has never understood this phenomenon until now—when the absence of light itself has left him burnt beyond repair, white-hot ashes in its wake.

“Kook,” Namjoon whispers again, though he never gets around to finishing his sentence.

A few moments pass and Jungkook counts them off by the loud thuds of his own heart that he hears all the way in his ears.

Finally, Namjoon loudly turns over to face the wall and drifts off into an easy sleep. His raucous snores had never bothered Jungkook before, but tonight he finds that no matter what he tries, it’s still Namjoon who keeps him from finding any kind of rest.

“Wake up, babies! It’s time to go shopping!” A voice shouts, and Jungkook instinctively burrows himself further into the warmth that surrounds him.

There’s a firm yet pliant body in Jungkook’s arms, and he finds he’s leaning his head on something solid—fuck, this is Namjoon’s bare chest he’s been drooling all over. If this were a few months ago, hell, a few weeks ago, there would’ve been no reason to make a fuss. Now, Jungkook tries to limit it to the way he stiffens when he realizes who it is.

Namjoon, to his credit, is silent. If the way he isn’t saying anything means he’s still asleep, Jungkook will take it. But he feels the man momentarily stiffen beneath his hands and automatically knows that he’s just as awake as Jungkook is right now. A low groan rumbles through Namjoon’s chest, and it’s all Jungkook can do to focus on Hoseok’s annoyingly chipper voice and will the blood in his body to restrain itself from rushing south.

Jungkook sighs and turns so that his back faces Namjoon, unwilling to deal with the aftermath of whatever the hell last night was. He pulls his share of the blankets up to his ears and hopes Namjoon gets the message.

The doorknob rattles as it turns, and Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

“Joon,” Hoseok calls softly from the doorway. “We’re taking Yoongi hyung shopping so get ready. Jungkook-ah, you’re on Seokjin hyung duty so you can sleep in, you lucky little brat.”

“Why are we going shopping so early in the morning when we’re in Jeju?” Namjoon asks. “Fuck that.”

Hoseok must shrug because Jungkook can hear the way his clothes rub against each other. “I don’t know, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got ten minutes before Yoongi hyung starts yelling, I’m pretty sure.”

Namjoon immediately jumps out of bed and while it jostles Jungkook quite a bit, he also understands. Yoongi awake before 10am on a weekday is a sight to behold, let alone on vacation. If he isn’t properly caffeinated or decides that everyone is wasting his time by dilly-dallying, it’s a nightmare. Jungkook knows this firsthand.

The door closes again with a grunt of approval and Jungkook stares bleary-eyed at the wall as he takes in to the sounds of Namjoon rummaging through his luggage to find his clothes. It reminds him of all the times he’d woken up to Namjoon pulling out a t-shirt or sweater from Jungkook’s dresser before pressing a goodbye kiss to Jungkook’s cheek as he left for work.

Now Jungkook is quiet as he listens for the gentle zips and clinks of Namjoon’s belt he’d always taken for granted. He spies a hairline crack right before his nose, a break in the lilac paint that sits so delicately that Jungkook isn’t able to make it out at first. Jungkook hopes someone attends to it soon, before it gets deeper and deeper and only leaves utterances of I don’t know if I can love you in its wake.

There’s a moment where Namjoon seems just to just stand and stare at Jungkook’s sleeping figure, maybe to say something, but Jungkook just sighs, pulling the blanket closer and deciding last minute to cover his entire head while he’s at it.

This way he doesn’t hear when Namjoon leaves, and soon enough he’s asleep again. Jungkook will never admit to it, but it’s nowhere near the rest he’d gotten sleeping in Namjoon’s arms again.

“It’s you, me, and Tae today, Jungkook-ah. The Three Musketeers—just like old times!”

Jungkook blinks. “We shot one campaign together, and it was literally the back of my head for that fucking Domino’s CF you did way back when, hyung.”

“We got free pizza out of it, didn’t we?” Seokjin counters, and Jungkook shrugs. He had gotten a few low-key modeling gigs out of it over the next few years to help pay the bills, but most of all the crew had gifted the extra’s with free pizza vouchers on top of their pay that day. For a college student at the time, it felt like winning the lottery.

“We did. We’re so old now, hyung. It’s kind of gross. Can you believe it’s been so long since Yoongi hyung first brought you over to meet us?”

“Tell me about it, my baby soy bean. Do you know how long it took for my sweet Yoongi to catch a hint?” Seokjin points to his ring finger with an eye roll, gold engagement band on full display.

Jungkook tamps down the flare of longing that roars inside him at the sign of love and commitment Seokjin wears so proudly on his hand. It’s a promise at its core, and a piece of him is grateful that at least Namjoon didn’t break any of his promises, both whispered between the sheets and declared loudly with conviction.

He used to think it would be him and Namjoon one day, trading kisses and taking their closest friends for a Bachelor Party Extravaganza ahead of their own wedding.

The dream had been a beautiful beach wedding along the coast in Busan, forgoing all tradition of elaborate displays and expensive wedding halls. Over time, as Namjoon’s fame and connections grew and grew, talks of weddings turned into discussions of a private ceremony just for friends and family versus a full-on celebrity wedding at the Shilla Hotel decked to the nines.

Jungkook never got to show Namjoon the Pinterest board he’d titled ~wedding vibes~ and filled with photos of American style barn weddings he’d slowly become interested in. And well, he supposes it really doesn’t matter anymore.

Now, everything he’d hoped for has morphed into him sleeping next to Namjoon at night and wondering why he agreed to this silly arrangement in the first place. It feels stupid, desperate even, when he looks back. Being excited for your own impending wedding is mutually exclusive from standing with a friend as they grieve the pangs of great loss, and Jungkook wishes he’d realized it sooner.

He doesn’t want Seokjin or Yoongi to worry their minds over him and Namjoon when there are literally a million other things on their plates. Table settings, seating arrangements, even the selection of hors d’oeuvres in the time for mingling between ceremony and reception—Jungkook wants two of his closest friends to experience every single thing that wedding planning has to offer. There’s an entire lifetime for them to continue babying Jungkook.

For now, he’ll choose to live vicariously through them.

Seokjin clears his throat and Jungkook flushes with embarrassment. He vows not to let his head or his heart get the best of him anymore and locks his eyes on Seokjin as a promise.

Taehyung chooses this exact moment to walk in all bleary-eyed, sleep rumpled, and looking just this side of too good to be true. He nods at Jungkook and takes the seat across from him at the table, folding all his limbs into a ball before looking up at Seokjin.

“We’re going hiking!” The oldest suddenly announces, and Taehyung’s face scrunches up in confusion. Jungkook is equally puzzled so he furrows his brow at his hyungs in the hopes it’ll get his message across.

“We’re doing what?” Taehyung asks, voice low and heavy with sleep.

“Hiking, Taehyung-ah. Keep up! We don’t have all day.”

Taehyung blinks back at him and shrugs. “Alright,” he mutters before reaching for a piece of toast.

“We’re not going hiking,” Seokjin says when the three of them sit in the rental car buckling their seatbelts.

“We’re not? I wore my sweats for this,” Jungkook replies, gesturing to his ever comfortable and ever chic combination of soft black cotton on even softer black cotton.

“Absolutely not. Fuck physical activity and your boring ass color palette. We’re going fishing.”

The expression Jungkook shoots Seokjin in the rear view mirror is quizzical. “Isn’t that what we did yesterday? On Hyori noona’s boat? Her literal fucking yacht that Jimin got all burnt on yesterday? Or am I just playing.”

It’s a good thing Jungkook keeps his eyes on the mirror for as long as he does because he almost misses the way Seokjin rolls his eyes. Almost.

“No, my precious little oyster mushroom, you are not playing. We did indeed go fishing yesterday. And we’re going fishing again today.”

“Why are we going fishing without Yoongi hyung?” Taehyung asks as the designated reasonable person in the vehicle, looking skeptically between Seokjin and the road in front of them—another perk of the rear view mirror for Jungkook.

“Because we’re not going fishing.”

“You just said we’re going fishing, though,” Jungkook argues. He feels a headache coming on in the distance.

“Because we are.”

“What the fuck are we doing?”

And it’s with the timing of the gods, really, that Seokjin happens to pull into the parking lot of a nondescript wood-paneled hut by the sea. Jungkook hadn’t noticed where they were actually going, but he also never would’ve expected the sight that beholds them now.

Myungjin Abalone, the sign reads. And oh, this is going to be good. Being a child of the sea, Jungkook has always loved abalone—in jook, grilled with butter, dipped in the vinegary gochujang his mother always kept on hand, in whatever form it came in, really.

It seems Taehyung is thinking the same thing because he brightens when turning to face Jungkook. Jungkook wants to give Taehyung the world, but all he has to offer are sadness and despair, so he pockets the urge for now.

“We’re having abalone, bitches!” Seokjin exclaims, completely oblivious to the brief dip in Jungkook’s mental state. Still, Jungkook musters all the energy he has into leaving all that behind for now.

“Hyung, are you excited for the wedding? You guys only have a few more weeks before it finally happens,” Taehyung says as he pours himself a glass of makgeolli, stars in his eyes as he turns his full attention from the huge side of mackerel in front of them to Seokjin.

Usually any mention of the wedding (really, its planning) would elicit a groan or eye roll from Seokjin, but this time he just looks pleased. It seems the rice wine is already traveling through Seokjin’s bloodstream with the way he’s a little less guarded and a tiny bit more open about his feelings. The tiniest bit.

“Yeah, I’m so over all the wedding planning to be honest, but I’m excited to just marry Yoongi already. I know we’re both going to look so hot and everyone will be jealous, but part of me just wants it all to be over so I can call him my husband already.”

Taehyung coos and pinches Seokjin’s side. “Can you believe Yoongi hyung had the audacity to say the same thing when I asked him last night? So gross. Kook, agree with me here please.”

Jungkook hums, though at what he isn’t sure. Seokjin’s words continue circling his ears and all he can think about is his hyung saying there’s no need for the pomp and circumstance when all that matters is his fiancé by his side. It reminds him of everything he’d ever felt for Namjoon and the way it merely circles the drain now.

When the lady with the kind eyes and the worn floral bandana through her curls finally returns to their table, Seokjin takes great pleasure in asking all about the restaurant’s specials. The lady laughs  heartily and calls them all her sweet little nephews before suggesting the grilled abalone and abalone jook, the rice porridge simmered low over the stovetop all day.

Seokjin orders four of everything and then asks for another five servings of each to go. The woman’s eyes widen in surprise, looking between Seokjin and the menu, but doesn’t say a word. Jungkook can already imagine the train of thought in her mind circling around the realization that he must be rich rich.

“Eemo,” Seokjin croons, and just like that this woman is a goner, too.

She leans in close to pat them all on the back and Jungkook vaguely smells hints of the sea with underlying notes of laundry detergent. He realizes it’s the same laundry detergent Namjoon’s mom always used, the one he still hasn’t had a chance to ask her the name of. It feels too late, somehow.

Seokjin's nunchi and sense are always spot-on, so Jungkook shouldn't be surprised when there's a brief silence after the woman returns with their food a little later and Seokjin fills it with a pointed question to Jungkook asking what's wrong.

“I don’t know, I think I’m just a little sad right now. Don't mind me. I’m sorry if I’m putting a damper on everyone’s trip, I didn’t mean to do that.” Jungkook scratches at the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, hoping it’ll quell the anxiety that threatens to grip at his throat and never let go.

Seokjin's face softens, as much as it can amidst his perpetual state of being devastatingly yet detachedly handsome.

“Hey,” he says quietly, picking up the piece of abalone he’d just shucked and placing it onto Jungkook’s spoon. “You aren’t ruining anything, what are you talking about? This trip wouldn’t be the same without any of you. I mean it.”

Jungkook nods obediently and scoops a little more jook onto his spoon before shoveling it all into his mouth, not bothering to say anything further. Seokjin and Yoongi have always been so good to him, taking him under their wing, and here he is raining on their parade with his inability to keep any of his feelings in check.

And like clockwork, there’s the pressure of tears pricking at his eyes again. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling right now with everything happening too quickly to comprehend. Suddenly he’s about to cry in a famous little abalone restaurant while his favorite hyung feeds him the best bits. He hates how little control he has over any of his emotions now, hates that this is what Namjoon has left him with.

They created so many happy memories together, yet any thought of those brings unwarranted tears to his eyes. Jungkook hates that every one of those stories is now marred by the constant question of whether or not any of it was real.

By the time the three men make it back to the Hyori House, everyone else is either lounging around the house in various states of disarray or hanging out by the pool outside. Jungkook waves at a shirtless Jimin in sunglasses and a straw hat lying in the middle of the pool in a huge float and laughs when Taehyung sneaks behind him to cannonball into the water.

Yoongi sputters from where he’s lounging on one of the chairs listening to music, and Seokjin takes the opportunity to run up to his fiance and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. It’s so childish a gesture yet screams of an intimacy Jungkook can’t think about anymore if he doesn’t want to burst into tears.

He supposes a normal Jeon Jungkook would immediately search for his boyfriend, so he steels his nerves and makes an obvious attempt at leaving the rest of the group to find Namjoon. Yoongi sends him a knowing smirk and Jimin, not knowing any better, yells a, Use protection! which Jungkook flicks a middle finger to.

Jungkook isn’t thinking when he trudges back into the house, unsure if he should go straight to the bedroom to change or at the very least check-in with Namjoon about their game plan for the evening. It’s their turn to cook for everyone, and while Jungkook knows Namjoon won’t kick up a fuss about his choice for dinner, he still wants to ensure there are no surprises.

The petty part of him scoffs and reminds him that Namjoon hadn’t given him any warning before breaking up with him. Then the still devastated part of him asks how he didn’t notice Namjoon falling out of love with him.

Jungkook slides open the screen door from the backyard and startles to find Namjoon and Hoseok mid-conversation in the living room. He’s sure he looks like a deer in headlights, looking back and forth between his two hyungs, but Hoseok just smiles at the sight of Jungkook and pats the open spot next to him.

Namjoon sits frozen in his seat, which tells Jungkook all he needs to know about the subject of their conversation.

Jungkook stays still where he is, unsure of what he’s supposed to do now, but Hoseok thankfully makes the decision for him. He hops up from his perch on the sectional and greets Jungkook with a wide smile and a wet kiss to the cheek. It makes him giggle as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his face, but it does the trick. Facing Namjoon doesn’t feel as difficult anymore.

“Have fun with the boys?” Hoseok asks as he drags Jungkook down to sit with him. He fits a hand over his shoulder and squeezes once. Jungkook appreciates the touch more than he can say.

He nods, coming up with something quick off the top of his head. “Hyung took us out for abalone and then we went for a walk. The weather was really nice today.”

Hoseok hums. “It was, wasn’t it, our sweet Jungkookie? You guys sound like you had more fun than we did. Yoongi hyung got sick of shopping and insisted we go climb a mountain so we had to do it. But guess what, babe? I was the only one smart enough to wear sneakers so I’m the only sick bastard here who doesn’t have blisters from trekking in slippers.”

Jungkook laughs and it feels good to feel it bubble up from the pit of his belly as Hoseok snickers next to him. He focuses on this, tries to remember it for later when he’ll have to pretend he’s happy again.

“I’m thinking we can make budae jjigae tonight since we have ramyun and spam and everything already. Plus we won’t have to slave over dinner in the kitchen later.”

“Are we using all the hetbahn we brought over?”

Jungkook hums before ultimately shaking his head. “No, I’ll just throw some rice in the rice cooker. Budae jjigae always tastes better with fresh white rice.”

“You’re right, my mouth is already watering.”

Jungkook doesn’t bother responding.

“We’re really doing this then, huh?” Namjoon asks, and Jungkook’s face falls.

Suddenly the illusion is shattered and they’re back at square one. For a moment he’d forgotten they were supposed to be broken up, and it strikes Jungkook as odd that it took this long for Namjoon to notice.

With Namjoon being the one to suggest this whole deception, Jungkook can’t tell what’s true or false anymore. Sometimes Namjoon will walk past and brush his fingers along Jungkook’s lower back, intimate in way he hasn’t been in awhile. It’s a small touch, too small to be calculated, and the thought that Namjoon could be planning something so intricate makes Jungkook’s stomach turn.

Annoyance prickles under Jungkook’s skin and the somewhat mediocre mood he’d cultivated amongst abalone and rice begins to fade away.

“Stop. Please,” he grits out. “I’m trying my fucking best.”

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” Namjoon at least has the decency to both look and sound apologetic, but it’s far too late for Jungkook to care.

“We’re here with our closest friends in what should be the best time of their lives, which means I can’t even tell anyone about it,” Jungkook hisses. “You don’t trust me, you don’t trust our friends. Do you even trust yourself?”

Jungkook scoffs and turns away, returning his attention to the jjigae. Right when he reaches for the chunks of tofu he chopped earlier, he feels Namjoon reach for his arm, shielding the rest of the room from seeing the frustration written on Jungkook’s face.

“Don’t,” Jungkook snaps, shrugging Namjoon’s arms off of his body. Where before he would have leaned in to the touch, Namjoon’s skin touching his own feels like sandpaper chafing against the blisters Namjoon’s left in his wake.

“They’re watching,” he whispers, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Fuck that,” he spits. “Tell them we’re fighting, I don’t give a flying fuck. Seokjin hyung already knows, so it’s not like Yoongi hyung doesn’t either. Tell them whatever you want, I’m so over this.”

Namjoon inhales sharply next to him, and he’s still so close that Jungkook feels it when he inevitably exhales again.

“Hey, hey, now. No fighting in the love shack!” Jimin calls from the living room, looking uneasily between the two supposed lovers.

“You promised to go along with this,” Namjoon counters softly, placing a hand at the dip of Jungkook’s waist.

Jungkook shudders at the touch and drops one of his hands to the counter, praying for some semblance of balance.

“Please,” Namjoon presses.

Jungkook closes his eyes.

It’s for Yoongi and Seokjin, he reminds himself. He can’t rain on the YoonJin parade and color the memories they’ll conjure every time someone so much as mentions their bachelor party.

So Jungkook forces his lips into a smile he doesn’t mean, mustering every ounce of courage and strength and god-given endurance he has. He’s so tired beyond belief: of pretending that he and Namjoon are in love, that he stands confident in Namjoon existing to stand with Jungkook, that just the thought of Namjoon doesn’t send his paper heart into flames.

With shaking hands he hopes the others aren’t able to see from the living room, he reaches for Namjoon for the first time in weeks. What used to be so familiar and life-giving feels the opposite now, sapping Jungkook of any modicum of energy he might’ve started the day with. He wills himself not to stiffen as Namjoon presses himself closer, biting his wobbling lip to keep from breaking the facade.

“Thank you,” Namjoon whispers into Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook does his best to transform a wet sob into a hiccup, but alas, he remembers there’s nothing divine about him. At least not anymore.

Namjoon used to call Jungkook sweetheart a lot—when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was hungry, when he was being a brat. Jungkook loved the way it fell from Namjoon’s lips like stray petals at first, dropping into Jungkook’s lap for him to play with and rejoice over.

Somewhere along the way, sweetheart turned into babe, which turned into Jungkook-ah and finally, just Jungkook.

Jungkook would give anything to be called sweetheart again.

Jungkook doesn’t think anything when Seokjin pulls him aside after dinner, when Namjoon is helping Taehyung wash dishes and everyone else is getting ready for their epic movie night. Hoseok and Jimin argue over whether or not they should start with Love Actually or Pretty Woman while Yoongi looks on fondly.

Seokjin leads him to his and Yoongi’s room and pats the spot next to him on the bed when Jungkook hesitates by the doorway.

“So…are you okay?”

Instantly, Jungkook feels terrible. It’s Seokjin and Yoongi’s bachelor party extravaganza, and here Jungkook is wallowing in his own sadness, unable to do anything to fix the hole he has in his heart now. Everything is seeping out all over the place, and Jungkook doesn’t know how to tighten his defenses anymore.

“Hey, stop that,” Seokjin interrupts, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I know where your mind is going, and I’m telling you right now that it’s wrong.”

Jungkook nods and obeys, looking up at his hyung and waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t want to argue, wants so badly for Seokjin to be right, wants so badly to bathe in the tender comfort only he can bring.

“Jungkook-ah, you’ve always been so good at hiding your feelings and pretending like nothing’s wrong. No one else has said anything yet, but I always knew you best, didn’t I?” Seokjin chuckles lightly to himself and fiddles with the thin gold band on his ring finger.

Jungkook’s heart pangs at the sign of love between his two oldest hyungs that sits on Seokjin's hand like it belongs there, like it’s no big deal for Yoongi to shout to the world that Kim Seokjin is his everything.

“Hey,” he whispers, placing a hand over Jungkook’s knee. It’s warm in a way Namjoon’s touches haven’t been throughout this trip, and Jungkook feels himself leaning into it.

“I’m okay, hyung. You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook says, eyes fixed on the ground before him. It sounds wet even to his own ears.

“Hey,” Seokjin repeats.

This time, he lifts Jungkook’s face with a finger to his chin and levels him with a look. Jungkook doesn’t know what he sees, but Seokjin immediately softens.

“Did something happen with Namjoon? Are you guys fighting?” Seokjin's voice is gentle, almost afraid, and this is exactly what Jungkook was worried about. What Namjoon was afraid of.

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing at all.

God, Jungkook longs for the days he and Namjoon would fight. He wishes Namjoon would fucking react, do anything but keep that stone cold demeanor when it’s just the two of them. But he continues looking past Jungkook, dropping kisses to his temple in front of the others that he really doesn’t mean.

Even Namjoon’s anger might feel like a balm, a breath of fresh air to Jungkook’s aching heart at this point.

“Jungkook.”

And Jungkook hates how Seokjin handles him so carefully, as if Jungkook’s skin will tear with the slightest of touches. He knows it’s the truth, but he finds himself wishing he had the freedom to invoke chaos, some act of God that would leave the waters raging and the mountains trembling in his wake.

Only then does he think he’d be able to breathe.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpers, and this time he allows the tears to fill his eyes and the longing to soar through his heart.

“Oh, honey,” is all Seokjin says before pulling the younger boy into his arms. “Tell hyung how he can make it better, yeah?”

Jungkook shakes his head, wiping stray tears and snot all over his shoulder. He loves his Seokjin hyung so much, but even he can’t help him out of this mess. The pain of great loss courses through him in waves, finally breaking through and demanding to be felt.

So Jungkook sits in his arms and sobs for the first time since the fateful night when Namjoon had said the words, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can love you anymore, do you really think we have a future together?

The sting of rejection burns hot in his gut and big fat tears roll down his cheeks. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, from telling Seokjin everything when he promised Namjoon he wouldn’t.

God, it hasn’t even been a full day and Seokjin has already figured it out. Jungkook hangs his head in shame.

It shouldn’t be so embarrassing to think about the way he’d latched onto Namjoon’s proposition so desperately, but it is. He thought he could have a chance at winning Namjoon back, but he thinks about how pitiful he’s been this entire trip and shrivels with shame.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and someone’s popping their head in. They still immediately, but it must be Yoongi with the way Seokjin sends him off with a finger to his lips. A silent I’ll take care of this that Jungkook can sense over his shoulder.

“Oh,” he hears from the door not a second later, and…that’s. That’s Namjoon’s voice.

Jungkook stiffens in Seokjin's hold, and he thanks his lucky stars that he picks up on Jungkook’s discomfort without missing a beat.

“Go away, Namjoon,” Seokjin says, trying for something lighthearted but failing miserably.

It’s written into his voice that he’s displeased, and Jungkook bites down another sob when he thinks about the chastising he’ll get from his ex-boyfriend at the end of the night. He’d promised Namjoon that he wouldn’t tell, vowed to the older man with everything he had for the final time.

The door shuts wordlessly behind Namjoon, and Seokjin squeezes Jungkook a little tighter before loosening his hold and pulling away. Jungkook misses the warmth already, but Seokjin's hands are gentle as they grab for a clean t-shirt and wipe at Jungkook’s puffy, bloodshot eyes.

“So it is a Namjoon thing,” Seokjin says with finality, and Jungkook nods, breath catching on silent sobs with his next inhale.

“Kook, what happened?”

Seokjin's hand runs up and down Jungkook’s bare arm and sends shivers down his spine, though not unpleasant. Jungkook thinks about the look he’ll get if he lies, the way Seokjin won’t be mad but rather disappointed, and makes his decision.

“We broke up,” Jungkook gasps out, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, ever assuring as he squeezes at Jungkook’s shaking hands.

So he does.

“What?” Jungkook has to take a moment, a lifetime, to think about what his boyfriend just said.

Except, he guesses Namjoon isn’t his boyfriend anymore. Or at the very least, Namjoon doesn’t want to be Jungkook’s boyfriend anymore.

Namjoon bites his lip, a nervous tic that tells Jungkook he’s not as composed as he’s trying to make himself seem.

“We should break up,” Namjoon says, flippant in a way Jungkook doesn’t understand. Not when it’s about them, their relationship, the life they’ve shared over the past three years.

“Is this a joke?” Jungkook asks, because it has to be. There’s no way this is really, actually happening right now. This has to be a nightmare, Jungkook is sure of it.

Namjoon sighs, as if it’s a burden to explain his reasoning, as if Jungkook himself is a burden. Jungkook isn’t sure when Namjoon crossed over into this mindset, wishes he knew when it happened so he could’ve prevented it.

“This—us—we aren’t working anymore. So we should stop it.”

He knows Namjoon is saying something, all too aware of the callous words coming out of his mouth. But he doesn’t know where to begin.

When did Namjoon stop thinking in ’we’ and start thinking in ‘I’? How long has he been toiling over this? What was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the thing that caused Namjoon to wake up today, look at Jungkook, and decide he wasn’t worth it anymore?

“Hyung—what? What’s not working? We’re doing just fine,” Jungkook argues.

If there was something so mortally wrong in their relationship that Namjoon needed to break it off completely, Jungkook would have known. He should have.

“You, me, us? I don’t know. Do you really think we have a future together?” Namjoon stops to scrub a hand over his face.

He looks tired, and Jungkook wants to say he could’ve saved himself a sleepless night or two if he’d just talked to Jungkook, but alas.

“That’s not…” Jungkook pauses to take a breath. When he opens his mouth again, his voice feels firmer, like he’s finally able to plant his feet beneath him. “That’s not a good enough answer. If you’re going to end us, I deserve to know why.”

For all that Jungkook feels confident right now, he doesn’t dare touch the sheer pain blooming in his chest. Somewhere along the way, he’s lost all semblance of what a safe space with Namjoon looks like. Suddenly everything’s turned from ‘right now’ to ‘before’ and ‘after’ Namjoon decided to break them apart.

“I don’t know if I can love you anymore.”

Namjoon swallows so big that Jungkook can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

And when Namjoon puts it like that, Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be fighting for anymore. Every memory they shared, every touch, every kiss, every secret—it’s all turned to dust now.

“I’m sorry.”

When Seokjin finally sends Jungkook off to bed that night with a tentative smile and a hand tapped lightly against his cheek, Jungkook feels a little lighter and marginally more ready to handle whatever Namjoon will throw at him next. There’s nothing he can’t handle at this point, not when he’s already at rock bottom.

Keep it coming, he thinks wryly to himself. Let’s see how far this goes.

Instead, he steps into his and Namjoon’s shared bedroom to find Namjoon standing in his sleep clothes with a pillow tucked under his arm. He looks like he’s about to walk out of their room, and Jungkook isn’t sure what the hell he’s supposed to make of it.

“What are you doing?”

Namjoon looks to the floor and then back up at Jungkook. His face is unreadable until he bites his lip, and suddenly this is an expression that Jungkook can recognize on sight. It’s the face Namjoon makes when he knows he’s about to say something disappointing, so Jungkook braces himself.

“I think it’s better if I sleep on the couch tonight.”

And what could Jungkook expect when Namjoon is now the one making the decisions for the two of them?

Jungkook sniffs once and looks away. “Do whatever you want.” The we aren’t together anymore is left unsaid.

If his response surprises Namjoon at all, it doesn’t show. Namjoon nods and whispers a terse good night before skirting around Jungkook to leave. As crazy as he thinks it must be, it doesn’t feel any different from the last time Namjoon left him.

Everything he does feels harder somehow, as if an anvil sits on his chest and he can barely get his lungs to flutter open anymore. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think. It hurts to exist and Jungkook doesn’t understand how he ended up here in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

One minute they were laughing together, and the next Jungkook was alone. It keeps happening and he can’t make it stop.

So he does the best he can do for now and starts getting ready for bed. He rubs gentle circles of his favorite green tea foam cleanser over his face, counting every circle just to give his mind something to do. He stops at a beautiful 32 and clears the bubbles away with fistfuls of warm water straight from the tap.

Next is the beauty water Jimin recommended once years ago and gotten them all addicted to, claiming it was the secret to maintaining his perfect complexion. It smells like evenings spent with Taehyung and Jimin hunched around a tiny sink in college, and also of nothing at all.

When Jungkook gets to the special serum that costs a fortune per bottle that he only buys himself twice a year, he smiles. He has to smile at the thought of Hoseok providing him a precise cost-benefit analysis of the product before giving up and pointing to his face as testimony. Everything Hoseok does promises that things will be okay, and today he’s thankful for this.

Finally he twists open his big fat jar of cherry blossom moisturizer and indulgently scoops out a huge handful of the clear gel. It cools his skin like aloe on a sunny day and he wishes he could slather his own heart in the sweet floral jelly. Jin had hidden it in his wickedly expensive groomsman package and beamed when he told his wedding party that Yoongi had picked it out solely because it said Jeju Cherry Blossom on the side.

As he piles on his serums and lotions, he focuses on the people he’s lucky to be surrounded by and reminds himself that even without Namjoon, he still has six people in this very home who love him more than he could ever fathom. Tonight, he lets himself have this.

Namjoon doesn’t come back to bed that night, and Jungkook can’t help the way he tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep. At this point Jungkook doesn’t really know how useful any of this is going to be. Everyone in the house can feel the tension surrounding them, and maybe Namjoon actually acknowledging it will turn out to be their fatal mistake.

Jungkook keeps his door open just a creak, slivers of light from the hallway shining brightly into the room. Taehyung always likes to keep a couple lights on while everyone’s asleep, just in case, and it seems Jungkook is his latest victim. He’s tired from the sleep he’s already lost just from being on this trip, but the tension in his shoulders feels even worse with Namjoon gone.

Before, Jungkook at least had Namjoon to blame for the discomfort and anxiety that had settled deep into his bones, constantly leaving him on edge whether it be in the living room, out on the boat, in the bright, unnecessary intimacy of their shared bedroom.

Now, he hears it when Namjoon shuffles in his sleep, the sound of blankets and pillows being tossed and turned on the couch in the pursuit of comfort and rest. If he holds his breath and listens carefully, he can hear Namjoon’s bare skin sticking to and peeling from the leather of the sofa.

Finally, it seems as though Namjoon has finally reached sleep and Jungkook’s coast is clear. He blinks at the ceiling, throat dry and sleep so far from his grasp. Fuck it, he thinks, getting out of the hot, sticky covers and tiptoeing quietly to the kitchen. Jungkook grabs a glass from the rack next to the sink, and tries to stay as quiet as possible as he fills it with the pitcher on the counter.

When he looks over to the living room, he sees Namjoon’s legs stretched out across the arm of the sofa, his too large body trying to get comfortable on the sectional. He has a hand on his belly and his chest rises and falls with his shallow breaths. Something in Jungkook’s chest tightens at the sight of it.

Up, up, up. Down, down, down, down.

He shouldn’t. Jungkook knows he should just take his glass and head right back to bed. Namjoon broke up with him for a reason. Namjoon crushed Jungkook’s heart and fell out of love with him, and it isn’t his place to seek him out anymore when he can’t sleep. Jungkook knows better.

But something in him will always be drawn to his ex-boyfriend whether he likes it or not, so Jungkook pads lightly  to the living room where Namjoon awaits.

When Jungkook is finally mere steps away from the older man, he has to bite back a small laugh he knows will wake Namjoon up. Namjoon’s always had the tendency of kicking his blankets away as he sleeps, and it seems that though so much has changed between them, this remains the same.

Jungkook gently pulls the down comforter up from where it’s sprawled over both sofa and floor and resettles it over the length of Namjoon’s body. Namjoon’s always defended the use of a down comforter across all seasons, claiming it was scientifically proven that down keeps the body warm in the winter and cool in the summer. After years spent sleeping over at Namjoon’s place and under Namjoon’s favorite navy comforter, he realizes he agrees with the assessment.

Just like Jungkook, Namjoon never sleeps with a shirt on, always complaining about how he overheats in both summer and winter alike because of the hot September blood in his veins. Jungkook had always giggled and pressed even closer to Namjoon in those moments, whispering a me too against his skin and looping his arms around his waist, refusing to let go.

Jungkook misses moments like that, but more than that he realizes he misses the quiet intimacy of just being near Namjoon. His presence grounds him like a tether, as if he’s the string tied in loops around the base of the yellow balloon named Jeon Jungkook.

Even now. Which is how Jungkook finds himself inches away from the man in question, watching as his chest continues to rise and fall in the moonlight. From his vantage point next to the couch, Jungkook turns his head to an angle and realizes he can see far out to the ocean, can hear his second mother calling his name.

Jungkook had grown up near this ocean, except hundreds of kilometers northeast of this very spot. Her voice is familiar, comforting in circumstances that feel far too broad to even begin to comprehend.

But seeing Namjoon’s favorite celestial body looking so at home in the sky right above the sea, the moon he always called his own—it tears Jungkook apart more than it should. That’s how he always assumed they looked next to each other—safe and happy and effortless, as if Jungkook and Namjoon together was the only combination the universe had created that made sense.

That’s how it should always be, Jungkook thinks. It’s the natural order of things, just like he and Namjoon have always been.

Without realizing what he’s done, Jungkook is on the ground now, kneeling mere inches from Namjoon’s sleeping face. Where the proximity of Namjoon to Jungkook felt so nerve-wracking mere hours before, it brings a silent comfort to Jungkook now in the dark.

It’s a cold splash to the face to remember waking up in the middle of the night to find Namjoon sleeping peacefully beside him. Back then, Jungkook had been braver. Back then, Jungkook would’ve dropped a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek and reached down to squeeze Namjoon’s hand. Back then, Namjoon always squeezed right back.

Now, he isn’t so sure.

Jungkook doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but he gently cards his fingers through Namjoon’s hair, brushing back the dark locks that feel just that bit of sweaty and damp to the touch. His fingers scratch lightly at Namjoon’s scalp, eliciting a pleased hum from the sleeping man.

Continuing his ministrations, Jungkook revels in the familiar feeling of Namjoon’s hair between his fingers. If Jungkook were braver, if Jungkook’s life was still related to Namjoon’s somehow, he knows he would’ve pressed a kiss to his temple without a second thought.

The Jungkook of months ago would have no qualms doing this very thing. The Jungkook of today is still figuring out where he’s supposed to stand if his place is no longer next to Namjoon.

The moon shines down on Namjoon as if she’s telling the world she’s chosen him, Kim Namjoon, to be her child. He swears it’s a trick of the light, knows firsthand how the moon and all who are close to her can fool him into believing an illusion.

But for a moment he believes, and for that moment, he hopes.

“Hyung,” he whispers, throwing all caution to the wind.

Namjoon’s eyes stay closed, but Jungkook can feel him stiffen beneath the elbow he has resting on Namjoon’s shoulder. It’s Namjoon’s prerogative to respond if he wants to, but right now Jungkook has so much he wants to say. It feels right that Namjoon, whether he realizes it or not, is giving him the space to say it all.

“Hyung, I…” Jungkook trails off, and it’s all he can to to keep from bursting into tears. Namjoon has always made him feel the most. He chuckles wetly to himself and pauses the hand he has roving through Namjoon’s hair.

“Hyung, I miss you so much. You’ve been right next to me this entire time but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so far from you. I miss you.”

Once the words start spilling out of his mouth, Jungkook doesn’t think he can stop. His voice catches as he tries his best to mold all the thoughts that’ve been plaguing him into real, coherent words.

Namjoon has always been the eloquent one, syllables flowing easily from his lips whether he’s onstage, in front of the camera, with their friends, even bottoming out into Jungkook, whatever. It’s disorienting to have the tables turned on him, to be in a situation where it’s all silence and the expectation to fill it sits on Jungkook’s shoulders for once.

“I keep wondering what I did to make you fall out of love with me. And then I can’t stop thinking about how pathetic I must look to you now, sitting here hanging on to your every word.”

Jungkook shakes his head—he’s had enough time to feel bad for himself. He owes it to Jeon fucking Jungkook to be kind to himself for once.

“What was going through your mind while you fell out of love with me? Was it really that easy? Knowing you, it must have been hard to realize you couldn’t do it anymore. You’ve always been so dutiful and responsible, hyung. Sometimes I wonder if that was the only reason that made you want to stay with me.”

Namjoon exhales shakily in front of him, eyes still closed, but Jungkook continues.

“Maybe there wouldn’t be anything I would do differently after all. I’m proud of loving you, forever and always. Even if you hate me, even if you’re ashamed of me, even if we never see each other again after this, I can say I had the honor of loving the best person this world has to offer.

“And for while, I know he loved me, too.”

How does it feel to have one of the world’s hottest stars in love with you, Jeon Jungkook?

Jimin had asked Jungkook this once years ago, empty paper towel roll held up to his face, when Cypher had released their second album and woken up to overnight stardom. Jungkook had smiled wide and probably said something along the lines of best fucking thing ever.

Now he looks back and isn’t sure where to start.

Jungkook can’t say for certain what it was like to have one of the world’s hottest stars in love with him, but he can speak to having one Kim Namjoon love him. It was easy and comfortable, never feeling like a burden but always like the warmth of the sun on a breezy summer day. Namjoon loved him well, he can say that resolutely,

“I can look at you smiling from across the room and suddenly it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Namjoon had said when he confessed. “It’s like you light up not just me, but the entire world. It’s so lucky to have you in it.”

Jungkook had blushed, bashful and shy in the face of such praise. Namjoon looked at him with such reverence and awe back then.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, Jungkook knows what it was like to have Namjoon’s attention in the palm of his hands, moving in flux with every roll and clench of Jungkook’s fingers. How powerful he’d felt then, knowing all it took to get Namjoon going was a hand clenched in his sleeve and a few blinks looking up through sweeps of Jungkook’s lashes.

Even now, he thinks he sees glimpses of it as they continue in their charade. The way Namjoon falters from time to time, pressing wandering fingers into Jungkook’s waist or smiling at him fondly when he thinks Jungkook isn’t looking, illuminating the cracks in the facade.

Sometimes Jungkook revels in it, forgetting they’re broken up and he has no claim on Namjoon anymore.

Loving Kim Namjoon is easy, as natural to Jungkook as breathing. Being loved by him was empowering until it wasn’t.

When Jungkook wakes up on the third day of the YoonJin Bachelor Party Fishing Trip Extravaganza, he finds he’s alone and that it’s raining cats and dogs outside. Rain has always been Namjoon’s thing, not Jungkook’s, and while it had always been comforting to spend rainy days lazing around with Namjoon under the covers, he knows today won’t be the same.

From the gaggle of voices outside the door, Jungkook can hear that everyone’s already milling about for the day. He has a feeling Yoongi might still be sleeping somewhere, knowing from experience as his roommate years ago that rain in the morning pulls the older man into a deeper, more fitful sleep.

Jungkook pulls on a pair of wool socks—Namjoon’s, now that he thinks about it—and walks the ten or so meters from his room to Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared master. The door is already ajar when he gets there and Jungkook smiles when he sees Yoongi sleeping peacefully on the left side of the bed, hands clasped loosely over his stomach.

Seokjin’s left the sheets on his side folded over, almost as an invitation, and Jungkook takes it with open arms. Quietly he crawls under the covers, careful not to jostle his Yoongi hyung’s tiny body.

“Hyung,” he says, making sure Yoongi knows it’s him and not his actual fiance. Jungkook has learned the hard way to announce his presence before getting attacked with kisses or dirty talk.

Yoongi shushes him and pulls him by the collar to rest Jungkook’s head on his chest. Jungkook feels the rumbles in his chest as he says, shh, go back to sleep, and soon he’s ascending into some of the best sleep he’s enjoyed since the day Namjoon left.

It’s a few hours before Jungkook sees Namjoon again. By the time he and Yoongi wake up for real an hour later, Namjoon has already left with Hoseok and Taehyung to find some historic bookstore on the island. Jungkook brushes away the memories of being the one Namjoon would take to bookstores and art museums, the one Namjoon loved the most.

Jungkook watches the raindrops trickle down the window from his spot on the sectional, his body facing the TV while his head lies in Jin’s lap. He lets a few stray tears fall and dot the thin pink material of Jin’s pajama bottoms, but his hyung doesn’t tease like he usually would.

Jin grabs the remote and turns the volume a little louder before resting his warm hand on Jungkook’s cheek. It’s a touch that murmurs he’s safe, and Jungkook wants to feel this same security every day for the rest of his life.

In the safety of his own bubble of loneliness, he allows himself to feel everything he’s kept shut up in the dark.

Jungkook dozes off on the couch after the third or so episode of Hospital Playlist. When he wakes up, the clock reads 3:56 and his head now seems to be in Taehyung’s lap judging from the scent of the expensive cologne radiating from the wrist resting on top of Jungkook’s neck. Taehyung has his fingers wrapped around the shell of his ear, his touch comforting despite how odd it is.

When he notices Jungkook stirring, he leans his face down mere inches from Jungkook’s and blinks. If his eyelashes were any longer, they’d be tickling Jungkook’s temples.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Jungkook groans and squirms out of Taehyung’s grip.

“God I need some air, I haven’t been cooped up like this in ages,” Jungkook says, lifting off the couch and stretching his limbs in the air. He walks through the living room and flings the door to the backyard open with a flourish, breathing in the scent of rain and grass and sea all intermingled as one.

A cough interrupts his moment of inner and outer cleansing.

“Oh,” Jungkook remarks, because there’s nothing else to say. “Hi.”

Namjoon looks up from his hands and gives Jungkook a hesitant smile. The older man is always quiet when he’s only had his own thoughts as company. He gestures for Jungkook to sit with him under the awning, safe from the rain that continues to pour all around them.

Where the sound of rain drop after rain drop hitting the roof had been muted over in their room, it’s at its full volume now. There’s a distinct comfort to drowning out his own thoughts that Jungkook thinks Namjoon might be clinging to now.

“It’s chilly out, you’re going to catch a cold,” Jungkook tuts, because caring for Namjoon is a part of him he doesn’t think will ever go away. If someone asked, he isn’t sure he could say he wants it to.

Namjoon doesn’t reply so Jungkook tries again.

“Jeju-do is really beautiful even when it’s raining. You always remember it’s one of the most special places in the world regardless of whether you’re looking in the rain or shine.”

More silence.

A burst of anger flares up in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach, burning hot as it ignites all the residual frustration that’s been lingering for weeks now.

“Really? You can’t give me this? Even when it’s just us, I’m the one who has to try? Seriously, fuck that.”

A beat. Jungkook huffs and turns to pull the sliding door back open, but a hand comes to cup his elbow, burning through layers of knit fabric.

“No, please. Stay.”

Because Jungkook is way too weak for his own good, he stays. And he wonders if Namjoon would’ve listened if he’d said those same words that fateful day.

Jungkook sits next to Namjoon, who must be warm in his thick sweater and cold where his toes stick out from Taehyung’s slides. They’re close enough that Jungkook can feel Namjoon’s body heat through his hoodie. He lifts the hood over his head, purposely limiting his view of Namjoon in his peripherals.

Namjoon continues in his silence and Jungkook lets him, because he doesn’t have a clue as to what he’d even say. The air feels too charged for something casual, but the occasion itself doesn’t feel like the right one to air out all their dirty laundry while their friends are on the other side of the thin glass.

Jungkook remembers his old house in Busan well, the way his mother used to hang their laundry out on the clothesline all year long—Jungkook’s basketball shorts, his brother’s t-shirts, his dad’s worn undershirts, even her undergarments, all on one line for the entire neighborhood to see. His clothes would always come back to him a little stiff from the open air, smelling like the salt of the sea.

“You’re making your debut pretty soon,” Namjoon finally says, voice thick from disuse.

They’re definitely skirting around what actually needs to be said, but if this is the way he wants to play it, Jungkook is happy to sweep aside the hurt festering inside his chest for now.

“Yeah. I officially signed the contract last week and scheduled some studio time with Yoongi hyung when we get back. We’ve worked on some songs together, but we’re all still trying to figure out what the title track should be.”

“Jungkook-ah, congratulations. Really. You’re going to do so well.” The words are soft, a little stilted, but genuine nonetheless. Jungkook tucks them away inside the recesses of his heart to revisit next time he’s struggling in the studio.

“Thanks,” he replies, ears burning.

“Bang PD was really impressed with your vocals on the tracks we recorded together. He doesn’t give compliments easily, but he said you were the real deal. I think he still regrets not signing Punch, but he might be over all that now that he has you.”

Jungkook flushes, heart taken for a ride. He doesn’t know what to do with all this praise, isn’t used to the need to filter it before accepting it for what it is. Before, he’d taken Namjoon’s compliments as another perk of their relationship. Now, they feel like a tin of thin bandaids to start covering over the scars in Jungkook’s heart.

“You should be so proud of yourself, Jungkook-ah. We all are. We’re rooting for you to succeed.”

And there it is. Jungkook isn’t sure Namjoon understands that he is proud of where he is now. Of how far he’s come. He doesn’t need to be told what to think or how to feel.

A timid thanks is what comes out of his mouth instead. Namjoon’s words scratch at something unpleasant, something Jungkook doesn’t want to acknowledge just yet.

“You’ve always been so good at everything you do, always working so hard and never giving up. You’re my inspiration, you know?”

Once Namjoon gets going with the praise, he’s never been able to stop. He gets swept up in the grandeur of it all, the need to outdo himself with the metaphors and comparisons every time.

“Don’t fucking do that, Namjoon,” Jungkook snaps, and even with the way his blood boils beneath his skin, it feels like a breath of fresh air.

Namjoon looks at him with wide eyes, guilt staining the corners of his lips as they lower into a frown.

Jungkook gestures to the distance between them. “You can’t act like all this here doesn’t exist just because we’re pretending to still be together. I’m mad at you. So mad at you it hurts to breathe sometimes. I’m not going to stop being mad at you just because you say something nice.”

Namjoon bites his lip and sends his gaze to the ground. He forgets he’s wearing slides and kicks at the ground, cursing under his breath when he stubs his toe.

“I’m sorry.”

Where Jungkook might have felt a pang of sympathy before, Namjoon has chosen the exact wrong thing to say. His guilt-stained words grate against Jungkook’s skin and leave a smattering of tiny scratches in its wake. Jungkook’s mouth finally opens and out comes a sampling of the words he’s wanted to say for weeks on end.

“All you say anymore is that you’re sorry. What’s sorry going to do for me? Is it going to bring back all those years I spent loving you? Saying you’re sorry isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough.”

If it sounds practiced to Namjoon, too put together to be Jungkook’s natural train of thought, then so be it. Namjoon’s still, too still, shoulders nearly pressed to his ears with how much tension lies beneath the surface.

Jungkook huffs out a sigh. Now that he’s on the other side of what he’s just said, it doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying as he hoped it would. Truthfully, it tramples on his insides to see the pain written so blatantly all over Namjoon’s face.

“I know it doesn’t mean much anymore, but I am. Sorry, that is.” Namjoon’s voice wobbles and he breaks into a laugh he doesn’t mean. “I’m so sorry. I wish I knew how to show you that.”

Jungkook wrings his hands, feeling the beads of sweat on the surfaces of his palms. “Tell me then. Tell me why you broke up with me. I think I deserve to know that at least, right? Like, there’s no way you could’ve just. Could’ve just told me that I—that I wasn’t enough.”

His voice breaks and his entire body shudders with a sob, but he forces himself to continue, pride be damned. Look at what you’ve done, he screams in the spaces where the wavers of his voice just aren’t enough.

“What did I do to make you look at me one day and just decide that you couldn’t love me anymore? Why couldn’t your stupid brain realize that earlier? Before you made me fall completely head over heels in love with you?”

Jungkook hiccups, wondering how the hell he was able to say deliver such similar words last night without getting nearly as worked up as he is now. He supposes this is the effect Namjoon’s presence has on him, dialing everything from his senses to his efforts all to a hundred.

He squeezes himself into as tight a ball as he can, head between his knees. Jungkook reaches his hands over his head as if it’ll do him any good, but he finds it doesn’t really matter if he gets wet anymore because nothing matters anymore.

“I could never stop loving you,” Namjoon grits out as if it hurts him to do so, and none of it makes sense. None of this is fair, the way he keeps sending Jungkook into a tailspin with the way he continues jerking him around.

If Namjoon loved him, he’d show it. If Namjoon hated him, he’d stay silent. Namjoon’s actions, for the first time since Jungkook’s met him, don’t match up with his words.

Jungkook feels drops of something drop onto the nape of his neck, heavier than rain with the way they travel down his forehead.

Feeling Namjoon shake and sob with him, next to him, all around him…it isn’t as satisfying as Jungkook ever would’ve expected. Instead, it makes the boulder sitting on his sternum press just a little deeper into his insides.

None of it makes sense.

It’s when they’re getting ready for bed that night that Jungkook is finally able to put a name to the slow head that’s been building in the pit of his belly all afternoon, catching fire as it seeped through his veins. He isn’t sure if it’s a byproduct of their argument outside, but even he, ever the oblivious one, can pick up on the electricity that crackles delightedly between them.

Want.

Namjoon’s been studying him throughout dinner, from across the living room as they all sat around and watched Seokjin and Yoongi’s favorite movies in quick succession, all with the hooded eyes and heavy gaze that never fails to send all of Jungkook’s blood circulating south.

Jungkook is petty and Namjoon knows this. He wants Namjoon to see everything he’s missing out on, wants him to remember how good he had it with Jungkook’s tight, lithe body within reach at all times.

Namjoon always loved when Jungkook would sit on his cock and swivel his hips in tiny circles, losing himself in the slick push and pull of the grind. He could never get enough of the view when Jungkook would work himself up and down his cock, panting little ah baby’s and I love you’s as if they were the only things he knew.

Jungkook can’t remember the last time they had sex because it was never supposed to be the last time. He can’t tell if it’s good or bad that he’d been so blissfully unaware, so pliant beneath Namjoon’s hands when he had no longer wanted Jungkook’s heart but still lusted after his body.

The prospect of this being the last time is terrifying. It’s another piece of his heart he’s handing over, knowing full well that Namjoon has no intention of holding it with the care he used to.

But if it’ll settle the uncomfortable tension that’s been growing between them since they arrived, if it means feeling close to Namjoon one final time, Jungkook will gladly take anything he can get.

There’s something hesitant in Namjoon’s eyes and Jungkook hates it on sight. It’s the one reminder that what they’re doing isn’t normal, because exes don’t sleep in the same bed or share empty touches or look at each other with the knowledge that they’ll be fucking by the end of the night. Exes don’t do any of that, but it seems Namjoon and Jungkook never do anything by the book.

There’s a packet of lube in Jungkook’s carry-on leftover from the last trip they’d taken months ago, one to Busan to see Jungkook’s family in the spring.

“You’re still clean?” Jungkook asks, unsure if he really wants to know the answer. Somewhere in the midst of his haze he’s reminded of the fact that maybe this isn’t a good idea. He shouldn’t be letting his ex fuck him weeks after he broke up with him, but moreso he shouldn’t have to ask if he’s clean.

Namjoon makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, leaning down to press his forehead against Jungkook’s. It’s something they used to do often, but Jungkook averts his gaze this time.

“I am,” Namjoon blurts out, and Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s surprised or not by his answer. “Of course I am.”

Jungkook makes quick work of tearing the lube open and squeezing some out onto his fingers. He pauses though, knowing how much Namjoon likes to be the one to finger him open. Shaking the thought away, he smears it across his fingers and spreads his legs further.

It’s been awhile since he and Namjoon have fucked and Jungkook can feel it when he inserts a finger into his entrance. It’s tight, it’s hot, and he wonders offhandedly if it’ll be enough to make Namjoon cry, just as he did earlier.

Jungkook works his finger in and out for a few moments, getting used to the feel of something inside him for the first time in a long time. He wonders how good it’ll feel for Namjoon to bottom out in just a few minutes, wonders if he’ll say what he always does, a gasped so good, baby, take me so good.

“Can’t touch,” he breathes as he lifts second finger to join the first. “Hyungie, you can’t touch.”

Jungkook hears something rustle and looks up to find Namjoon already pulling his sweatpants off in one fluid motion. He keeps his boxer briefs on, sliding a hand up and down his quickly hardening length. His eyes, hooded and heavy, stay fixed on Jungkook, drinking in every inch of his skin. For once, Jungkook doesn’t feel exposed so much as admired. Adored.

“Shirt—your shirt, too,” Jungkook whines, and Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. He lifts the white t-shirt off his body in a single swoop, tossing it to the floor to join his freshly discarded sweatpants.

Jungkook’s wrist is beginning to cramp from this angle, so he slips in a third finger even if he doesn’t feel prepared for it just yet. Namjoon is big, bigger than anyone Jungkook’s been with before, and he always made a big deal of thoroughly prepping him before fucking him to the point of tears streaming down his face and Jungkook forgetting his own name.

He moans softly, all too aware of everyone getting ready for bed and sleeping all around them. When Jungkook looks up at Namjoon again, he sees him biting his lip, jaw clenched in restraint. It’s one of Jungkook’s favorite things, knowing he alone holds all this power over Namjoon’s head.

It always leaves him feeling beautiful, the way Namjoon regards him carefully with his slowly roving eyes. Usually Namjoon would finger him open with one hand while the other swept its way across the surface of Jungkook’s body, feeling around every inch of skin, fold, and crevice it could.

Even with Namjoon keeping his hands strictly to himself, it says something about the way they’re still so in tune with each other that Jungkook just knows how much Namjoon wants him. Pride temporarily fills his veins with a courage he’s since lost and has him arching his back and throwing his neck back, baring his throat sinfully to the older man.

“Touch me,” Jungkook begs, completely disregarding his order from before.

Namjoon immediately has a hand running up and down one of Jungkook’s calves while the rest of him leans in close to press a kiss to Jungkook’s lips. It’s soft in a way it hasn’t been in awhile, and Jungkook trembles in its wake.

A dry finger runs from the underside the head of Jungkook’s cock right down to the base, and Jungkook can’t help himself. He keens at the sensation and thrusts uselessly into the air in search of more contact.

Namjoon laughs softly and drags a thumb over his sensitive skin and it’s all Jungkook can do to keep from jolting forward and throwing himself into Namjoon’s arms. Jungkook keeps up the work of his tired fingers before Namjoon presses a kiss to his temple and slides them out in one a filthy, slick motion.

Namjoon’s long, slender fingers replace Jungkook’s then, and fuck. A breath catches in Jungkook’s throat as Namjoon presses and twists to have him moaning unabashedly in seconds. His fingers have every point of Jungkook’s body catalogued to a tee and it shows in the masterful way he manipulates it to his liking.

Jungkook can’t say a word when all his thoughts are Namjoon and more more more, not when Namjoon is pressing right against his prostate and slowly dragging his finger back and forth in slow motions.

Jungkook’s toes curl and it’s all he can do to keep from coming right then and there.

Namjoon seems to detect exactly what’s happening because he quickly drops another kiss to Jungkook’s forehead before pulling his fingers out. Jungkook clenches around nothing and he whines for something, anything, to fill him once again.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you.”

Namjoon drops a kiss to Jungkook’s nose, and it’s too much for him to bear. In response, Jungkook wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck, not caring about the lube still coating his fingers, and bites. He kisses, sucks, anything to feel close to him again.

“Mine,” he whispers, just loud enough for Namjoon to hear amidst the deafening silence that stretches between them. It’s quiet enough for Jungkook to pick up on every sound their bodies make, yet much too loud for him to even begin hearing what Namjoon’s heart is trying to tell him, if it’s saying anything at all.

Namjoon moans loudly then, and it’s a stark difference from all the times he’d chastised Jungkook for leaving marks when he had a shoot or performance the next day.

“Yours, yours. Only ever yours.”

Jungkook attaches his lips to Namjoon’s throat again because he can’t trust himself to hold back a sob otherwise.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,” Namjoon breathes like a mantra. When he lines himself up with Jungkook’s entrance and pushes in, Jungkook can’t tell if it’s a beginning or an end.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, daring Namjoon to say his name even louder, proclaim to the world that Jungkook is his. Namjoon finally, finally bottoms out after the slowest push in and Jungkook thinks he can feel the tip of his cock in his throat.

“Only been you,” Namjoon says. “Only ever love you.”

Something about the statement strikes Jungkook as fundamentally wrong, but he can’t find the focus in him to think about anything other than Namjoon’s cock splitting him open from the inside out.

Namjoon keeps going, breath stuttering along with his thrusts. Jungkook tries to clench down as hard as he can, knowing how much Namjoon likes it when he does, and bites his lip at the way Namjoon gasps so prettily into his ear.

The faster Namjoon goes, the less Jungkook tries to meet each of his thrusts with his own.

Namjoon utters a “Jungkook, fuck,” that tells the younger man he’s about to come, and Jungkook wraps his legs around his lower back like a vice. His own neglected cock sits hot and heavy across his lower stomach, twitching with every one of Namjoon’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to groan loudly as he comes, leaving traces of himself painted warm inside Jungkook. Still, it seems their breakup hasn’t turned Namjoon into a complete asshole as he quickly moves a hand to wrap around Jungkook.

It’s a slick slide of callused hands and sticky lube, far messier than Jungkook cares to like it most times. But this time is different, punctuated with a finality that even Jungkook can pick up on.

And when Jungkook comes, it’s with Namjoon’s name on his lips, the only thing he’s sure of anymore.

It’s awkward as they both come down from their highs, air filled with the sound of their breaths and the smell of sex that shouldn’t be so permeating, but is this time.

It’s awkward because it’s never been awkward, never should be awkward. Even the first fumbling time had been filled with soft giggles and whispers, Namjoon’s arms encasing Jungkook’s entire body and soul as his hands moved to touch every single inch of him.

Jungkook had felt on top of the world with the way Namjoon refused to take his eyes off him for even a moment.

Now Namjoon does everything to avoid eye contact, shuffling off the bed as soon as he catches his breath. Jungkook isn’t sure how long he’d laid there with Namjoon panting loud and hot into his neck, but he knows it was long enough to warrant the tears that slowly trickled out of the corners of his eyes.

He hears the sink running and imagines Namjoon washing his hands of what they’d just done. Washing his hands of Jungkook once and for all.

When Namjoon steps back into the room, Jungkook can’t even pretend he’s asleep because Namjoon knows that sex always riles Jungkook up, leaving him unable to sleep. He just blinks slowly as he comes back to his own head, saying nothing as the familiar scent of lavender appears along with Namjoon. Even before, Namjoon always insisted on cleaning them up afterwards, and now the the wetness between Jungkook’s legs leaves him feeling dirty and used.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything as he kneels at Jungkook’s side and gently wipes his stomach with a warm washcloth. His touch is soft and familiar, and he’s just as careful as he always is when he gets to Jungkook’s hole, wiping away the come he’d left between his cheeks.

The way Jungkook’s breath hitches is almost too intimate, reminding him of an instance a few months ago when Namjoon had sat and inspected Jungkook’s puffy entrance, relishing the way he’d insert a finger and get both a soft moan and feel for the come he’d left inside in return.

Jungkook had giggled then, high and breathless off the endorphins of Namjoon showing him how much he loved him and marking it all over his body for the world to see. Namjoon had loved Jungkook then, and Jungkook had known what it felt like to be loved by the person he loved most in the world. Known what it meant to both give and take all parts of oneself—mind, body, and soul.

And now…now Jungkook will take whatever he can get.

Jungkook sifts through the box to see if he’s missing anything else, because Kim Seokjin is definitely the kind of person to leave a cock ring or anal beads under all the tissue paper as a last minute joke. His hand catches on a crumpled piece of paper at the bottom with an aha! and he quickly brushes off the extra confetti before unfolding it in his excited hands.

What he finds written on the paper is nothing close to what he ever would’ve expected.

to: namjoon

from: yoongi

you still owe me for that one time back in college so i’m cashing in the favor for you to be my groomsman. actually i take it back, you should just do this out of the kindness of your heart because i raised you to be a good man.

(remember when you said you and jungkook would be the first to get hitched? i’m laughing in your face you little bitch)

soz and thx :)

“Oh…my god,” Jungkook manages to get out before Namjoon is shuffling back into the living room. There’s a question in his eyes at the ruckus Jungkook is causing, but nonetheless he leans in to drop a kiss to Jungkook’s waiting lips.

Jungkook bursts into another fit of giggles.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll show you what I was laughing at but first you need to see this. Have time to sit and watch while I do an unboxing, my loyal viewer?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes but obediently takes a seat on the couch as Jungkook requests. Jungkook sets Yoongi’s note on the side of him away from Namjoon and sets the big black box on his lap so Namjoon can have an unobstructed view.

First, Jungkook pulls out the bottle of wine that made up most of the weight of the hefty package, and Namjoon ooh’s and ah’s in appreciation.

“This one will go nicely with the kimchi your mom dropped off the other day, right?”

Jungkook turns to fix an unimpressed stare on his boyfriend and after a few moments, Namjoon’s lips stretch wide into a pleased grin. After taking a final shove to the shoulder, Namjoon relents and drops another loud kiss to Jungkook’s hidden dimple.

The box is filled with all things pink, which is so on brand for everything Seokjin is and stands for. It’s obvious he shelled out a pretty penny for his groomsmen gifts, and Jungkook has to keep from laughing when he thinks of Yoongi’s “gift” for Namjoon.

Following the bottle of rosé are a package of fancy 24K gold face masks for Jungkook, a pot of some expensive looking moisturizer, and a pink silk tie folded neatly amongst the smaller gifts. Jungkook flips the tie over in his hand and whistles when he spots the tag reading Ermenegildo Zegna on the back. A matching pocket square completes the deal, a darker pink ribbon binding the two pieces together. Seokjin hyung really went all out this time.

Namjoon scrunches his nose in distaste when Jungkook reaches down for a fistful of the paper crinklies, as he always calls them. He begrudgingly makes the case that while environmentally more friendly than packing peanuts and plastics, crinklies just annoy the shit out of him.

So Jungkook grabs a handful and lifts his fist to Namjoon’s head, smiling as he smothers his boyfriend’s hair with the very paper crinklies he hates so much. Namjoon’s lips press into a straight line, but he seems to decide to go along with Jungkook’s whims if the way he closes his eyes is any indication.

It shouldn’t strike him when Namjoon has a bunch of random shreds of paper in his hair, but Jungkook is suddenly taken aback with how much he loves this man. Namjoon would let him do anything he wanted, and Jungkook doesn’t take that trust lightly. It’s been years of earning that trust and letting down his own walls in a steady back and forth resulting in the most beautiful relationship Jungkook has ever had the pleasure of being a part of.

“What’re you thinking about in that big brain of yours?” Namjoon asks, tugging Jungkook from his reverie with a hand to his chin.

Namjoon gently pulls Jungkook to face him once again, and it’s an automatic reaction to smile as big as he can when Namjoon is touching him. Jungkook never wants Jungkook to doubt how happy he feels to be in his presence.

“You.”

Namjoon flushes and squeezes a hand around Jungkook’s wrist before letting go. He gestures to the open box in question and Jungkook suddenly remembers the one part of the gift that was actually intended for Namjoon.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “That’s right, I was saving the best for last.”

Jungkook reaches for the crumbled paper sitting next to him and passes it to his boyfriend, waiting with bated breath as Namjoon smooths the creases out and lifts it closer to his face.

“What the fuck is this,” Namjoon remarks, definitely not making sense of how something so crumpled and unsavory could also come from the beautiful rose-scented box filled with expensive things.

Namjoon’s face shifts as he reads its contents, though, face opening up into something both amused and pleased with what he’s reading.

“That one time back in college, I swear to god. Yoongi hyung knows I basically owe him my entire life at this point,” Namjoon muses as he reads, and Jungkook laughs because he knows.

He knows how much Namjoon respects Yoongi, and how much Yoongi looks out for Namjoon in everything he does. Anytime Yoongi is presented with an opportunity, there’s always the stipulation that Namjoon and Hoseok do it with him. That’s why their group has never run any risk of falling out or disbanding—because each of its members care about the others more than they do about themselves.

Jungkook continues watching Namjoon, content to drink in every one of his expressions and mannerisms on display. Until the corners of his lips turn down into a frown and Jungkook is left wondering what part of the note could’ve elicited such a reaction.

“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, and it’s enough for Namjoon to snap out of it.

The frown disappears just as quickly as it came, and Jungkook is left wondering if it was a mere figment of his imagination. A trick of the light, maybe.

“This is so Yoongi hyung, don’t you think?” Namjoon amends, stiff in a way he usually isn’t.

Jungkook takes the opportunity to snatch the note back and read it again. He’d only smiled to himself when reading it for the first time, and now he wants to know what it was that set Namjoon on edge.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything as Jungkook reads, but he keeps doing so, waiting for it to hit him.

And oh. Oh.

Now Jungkook thinks he understands.

remember when you said you and jungkook would be the first to get hitched? i’m laughing in your face you little bitch

Something ugly rears its head and darkness coils in the pit of Jungkook’s belly. He has no clue what anything is anymore.

“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, but doesn’t know where to go from there.

He and Namjoon had openly talked about marriage from the beginning of their relationship, but when Jungkook wracks his brain for something, anything, from the past few months, he comes up short.

“Maybe we should talk.”

As far as breakups go, this one feels unceremonious. Unsatisfying, even.

If Jungkook relies on the database of rom-com knowledge he’s acquired over the years, he would’ve hoped any breakup he’d be involved in would include a lot more screaming or throwing things.

He just never expected it’d be with Namjoon.

When Namjoon walks out the door, Jungkook’s mind is still reeling from the sheer speed of how everything went down, how quickly he went from being Jungkook’s partner in life to a mere stranger.

His hands tremble in Namjoon’s wake and nothing makes sense.

There’s no time for metaphors or thoughts or anything in between, not when everything in Jungkook’s blurred vision melts to big blobs of nothing.

If this were any normal circumstance—Jungkook laughs at the thought that any of this could be normal—he’d be calling Seokjin or Jimin over to cry and scream with, because they’re the ones who would indulge him this one thing.

But Jungkook can’t do this to his Seokjin hyung, who’s already so stressed out planning the details of his own wedding. The problem with Jimin is that once he knows, Taehyung will find out, and mysteriously the news will trickle over to everyone in their friend group when Namjoon had resolutely said no one could know until after the bachelor party.

The note from Yoongi remains crumbled on the table. It’s the first thing Jungkook shoves into the garbage when he wakes up the next morning.

Namjoon had a show in Paris once. For Cypher’s first Europe tour, Namjoon had insisted that Jungkook tag along with the group since he had nothing else going on at the time. Seokjin stopped by from time to time to support his fiance, but even he’d had a schedule packed with filming and promotions for Courtroom Playlist now that it was beginning to air on TV.

Jungkook hadn’t told Namjoon at the time, but he’d turned down an internship with an indie music producer the night he came to Jungkook with the proposition.

Thank you so much for the opportunity, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline, he’d written in his email that night, biting his lips to keep the tears at bay. It was stupid, but he was stupid. The time Namjoon had leftover for him was limited at best, and this felt like the best opportunity to try and rekindle what they’d once had.

He could find another job, another internship. He couldn’t find another Namjoon.

So he sat in the green room and mouthed along to all of Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi’s lyrics while a staff member smiled sadly and offered him drinks every few songs. Jungkook knew he wasn’t living his best life getting dragged around by his boyfriend’s schedule, but there was nothing else he felt he could do anymore.

And that was the issue, wasn’t it?

Jungkook was always waiting. Jungkook’s presence was always a given, in a way Namjoon’s never was.

For once, Jungkook wanted Namjoon to know that he wasn’t a sure thing, that him being his boyfriend didn’t automatically equate to giving up his entire life for Namjoon.

“He never asked you to,” Jungkook reminds himself as he pinches the skin between his thumb and forefinger. It was his own fault.

Namjoon dipped through the curtain and smiled briefly at Jungkook after his ending ment, before being ushered away by another stylist who swatted at his sleeve and how Namjoon had nearly ripped it while pulling pranks with Hoseok again.

He looked happy.

When Jungkook wakes up the next morning, it’s to his own body tangled around Namjoon’s, as if they’re the mangled, weathered roots of a willow tree out standing out amongst the smooth pasture of green.

The first thing he notices is that they’re still naked, and the memories from the night before flood his brain in an instant. It’s a shock to his system and a miracle in itself that he doesn’t startle in Namjoon’s arms.

He doesn’t know just yet if Namjoon regrets it or not, but he’s not going to run away. Not when Namjoon had whispered hushed utterances of his love for Jungkook the night before. Jungkook needs to know if they were true, can’t bear another moment of being in the dark.

Carefully, he extracts himself from Namjoon, thanking the stars that he’s always been a heavy sleeper. He continues snoring as Jungkook pulls on his t-shirt and boxers strewn somewhere on the floor.

“Morning,” he says from he’s sitting back in bed when Namjoon starts stretching out his sleep laden limbs. Jungkook sees the exact moment Namjoon recalls what they’d done last night and bites his lip in anticipation.

“Good morning,” Namjoon replies, voice low and rough with disuse.

He looks down at his own lack of clothes and sighs when he surveys his own t-shirt hanging off of Jungkook’s shoulders. “Are we talking about this? Because if we are, I’m going to put on some clothes.”

Jungkook nods and tries to bite back a laugh. He looks away when Namjoon lifts the covers, unsure if the fact that they’re exes means he isn’t allowed to ogle Namjoon’s ass anymore. It feels too intimate for the occasion.

“We fucked last night,” Jungkook says bluntly when Namjoon is back and sitting cross-legged across from him in bed, fully clothed in his favorite olive long sleeve shirt and dark joggers. He isn’t sure if the bottoms are his or not.

Namjoon winces but doesn’t argue. Suddenly Jungkook remembers how Namjoon had always hated hearing Jungkook call what they did fucking. The sap always preferred to call it making love much to Jungkook’s chagrin, but today Jungkook doesn’t have the time or energy to dwell on what it means.

“Maybe I don’t mean anything to you, but I’m someone’s precious son. A brother, a friend, a human. The least you could do is tell me why. Please. Tell me why you broke up with me.” Jungkook's voice wavers. It's hard enough as it is to remember that Namjoon had left him behind.

To his credit, Namjoon merely nods.

“Yeah,” he croaks uncomfortably. “You deserve an explanation.”

And now that said explanation is here, Jungkook isn’t sure what the hell he’s supposed to do with it. He wants so badly to know why, but isn’t sure he’s equipped to handle the fallout. But still, he continues.

Namjoon takes a deep breath. Jungkook tries not to notice the way his breath seems to shake.

“I love you,” he says first, and. That’s not what Jungkook expected to hear at all.

“I love you so much, and I’ve seen the way my schedule has been ragging on you over the years. I can’t always be there for you when you need me, and by the time I even stopped and realized what was happening, it was like I’d already lost you.”

Jungkook gapes at him, because none of this is remotly close to what he’d expected to hear.

“Every time I saw you I saw the light dim in your eyes, but I didn’t say anything because I was selfish and wanted to keep you to myself. I did that. I took the most beautiful thing in my life and killed it trying to keep it next to me, and.” Namjoon’s next inhale catches in his throat. “You deserve so much better.”

It’s true that Jungkook had slowly gotten more detached over time, but he doesn’t think he can leave Namjoon to shoulder all the blame. Still, he hates that the person who was supposed to be his partner went ahead and made decisions on his behalf, without telling him any of the why’s behind it. Jungkook can let a lot slide, but not this.

Namjoon continues, still unaware to the inner workings of Jungkook’s mind. “I’ve always been pretty busy, but now that your work is really starting to pick up and you’ll be traveling more, there’s a lot that’s gonna be happening. We won’t see each other, we’ll eventually fall out of love. Sometimes people just don’t work out regardless of how much they love each other.” Namjoon shrugs, unable to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

Jungkook decides it’s time to speak up. “We hadn’t even gotten there though—so what, you just chose that it’d be better to break up? You didn’t even try to make it work, you just gave up on us.”

“Jungkook, please.”

“What do you even want from me? Why are you telling me this? What, now that I have work for myself, I’m suddenly not worth dating anymore? I was only good to fuck and hang out with and now I’m not cause I don’t want to be your house pet anymore? You didn’t want some rookie to drag down your image. Were you that ashamed of being with me?”

Namjoon grabs Jungkook’s wrist and feels the younger man freeze in his hold. His questions come to an abrupt end, and Namjoon hopes he isn’t continuing to spiral inside his head.

“Don’t you dare say that about yourself. You know that isn’t it at all.”

“How can I, though? You lied to me, broke my heart. There’s nothing on the line, why can’t I just hate you?”

“You can,” Namjoon says, exhaling loudly.

“You don’t get it, hyung. I don’t want to. My heart won’t let me and I hate it. I hate you, but I think I hate me, too.”

There’s a pause, a silence that stretches both too long and not long enough before Namjoon speaks again.

“I know what the industry is like. I know what they’re going to try and do to you. They’re going to shove you in the closet, maybe get you another idol that you’ll have to get caught on dates with in the middle of the night. You’re going to hate it, but there’s also going to be so many people who fall in love with you. They’ll finally start to see your beauty, your talent, everything that makes you you and turn you into a star.”

Namjoon steels himself, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath before continuing.

“And when you’re a star, you’re going to see that there are so many people who can love you better than I can. People who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’d just be holding you back, Jungkook-ah. You deserve to see how far you can go.”

Jungkook is openly sobbing now, wiping at his face with the sleeves of his shirt. His nose starts to run, and he shudders with quiet little gasps that leave his entire body shaking.

“I’m a jealous man, Jungkook-ah. But even I want to see you reach higher heights than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Jungkook whispers, and it’s a testament to the self-control he’s honed over the years that it isn’t a yell or a roar that comes out of his mouth instead.

Namjoon looks up, fully agreeing but unsure where this conversation is heading.

“You’re so fucking stupid and I’m honestly a little impressed that your stupidity seems to seriously know no bounds. I can’t believe you.”

Namjoon stutters, unable to reply.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, do this to us, because you think I’m too good for you. You’ve never been more fucking wrong in your entire life.”

Namjoon doesn’t even get a chance to defend himself. Jungkook just steamrolls past him, resembling Yoongi more and more with the growing ferocity in his voice.

“What good would any of that be if I didn’t get to do it with you? You’re the one who’s been there since day one, the one who always encouraged and pushed me to chase my dreams. Hyung, it’s always been you,” Jungkook says, pushing his hair back frustratedly with one hand.

“Do you remember how ecstatic I was when you won your first Grammy? When I said I would be happy forever just from seeing you reach your dreams? You said it sounded like I was giving up on myself, but I wasn’t.”

Jungkook pauses to take a breath, and Namjoon stays still, unable to make sense of anything he’s saying.

“Your successes and your wins are just as important to me as my own. You probably know that better than anyone. But imagine if you were in my shoes. When I got that call from Bang PD saying I’d passed, all I wanted to do was go out to eat samgyupsal with you. You were the only one who never stopped believing in me, and without you I know I would’ve given up somewhere along the way. My happiness never got the chance to be fully realized because I didn’t have you to share it with.

“You have no clue what I’m actually out here thinking about, but newsflash hyung. It has nothing to do with resenting you or thinking you’d be a detriment to my career. You got it completely wrong. It’s the opposite, really. You guys all have your lives together, while I’m just out here on my lonesome.”

Namjoon furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You guys are all established and successful, and I’m not talking about the fame, really. Just that you guys know who you all are, you know what you’re doing, and then there’s me still trying to figure it out.” Jungkook doesn’t think there will ever be another opportunity in which he’s able to pinpoint his emotions like this again, so he continues, no matter how hard it is to muster up the courage to do so.

“We didn’t get into it for the fame—“

“No, I know that. That’s not what I meant.”

Jungkook looks down to see Namjoon picking at his cuticles. He looks like he’s wondering when he stopped understanding what Jungkook means, and Jungkook finds himself asking the same question.

“I meant that whether it’s true or not, I always feel like I need to have my entire life together when I so obviously don’t.” Jungkook huffs out a chuckle, just this side of wry and self-loathing. “You guys are eons ahead, and I still don’t have a clue. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just singing because it's what's expected of me at this point, the only way to be like you guys."

It doesn’t feel right to say it so flippantly, and Namjoon for once looks flabbergasted at the thought, emotion rising in him like the tension between them no longer exists.

“You said this was your dream, Jungkook-ah. If it’s changed that’s fine, but you can’t write yourself off just because it took you a little longer to get here. Whether you believe me or not, you’re really fucking good at what you do. Yoongi hyung would never lie to you, you know that.”

Jungkook inhales a shaky breath because Namjoon is right. Yoongi always goes on about how he has nothing to gain from lying to others and flattering them for favor, and he wouldn’t lie to Jungkook. No, never. Which is why Jungkook trusts his words more than his own.

But Namjoon? He isn’t sure.

“I don’t trust you anymore.”

Namjoon inhales sharply but nods nonetheless. “You shouldn’t.”

“But I want to. I look at you and it’s like everything in me wants to trust you so badly. Prove to me that you’re worthy of it again. Please.”

Namjoon looks conflicted, eyes lifting from his own hands to finally settle on Jungkook’s face. There’s shame and guilt written clearly across his eyes, in the lines creasing his forehead, and Jungkook wants to reach out and smooth it all away.

“Jungkook-ah…you deserve so much more than what I can give you. I’m just going to hurt you again.”

“Who are you to decide that for me? You go around telling people that it’s so dangerous to think you know someone, then come here and tell me you know what’s best for me. You’re what’s best for me, why can’t you see that?”

Jungkook feels petulant, like a child, so he swallows and takes a moment to gather his thoughts again. He doesn’t think it’ll help matters to get overtly emotional and give Namjoon a reason to not trust his words.

“You hurt me so deeply, hyung. These past few weeks have been hell, especially because it seemed like you were fine. Like you didn’t care.”

Namjoon hangs his head, making no effort to argue.

“But you’re also the reason behind all my happiest memories—you hurt me the most, but you also loved me the most. You say you’re just going to hurt me, but that’s your choice. It’s not something that just happens. So I’m telling you to be the man I know you are and love me the way that only you can.”

When Namjoon looks up at Jungkook again, his eyes shine with something that hadn’t been there before. Jungkook can’t tell if it’s the gloss of unshed tears, the glimmer of hope that Namjoon hadn’t allowed himself to feel, or even a mixture of both. All he knows is that this moment is sacred, that both their futures hang in the balance, and he himself hopes that Namjoon trusts himself enough to bet on a life lived together.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers, like it’s a secret.

Jungkook nods. He knows.

“I love you,” Namjoon repeats, a little louder this time, as if he suddenly remembers how much Jungkook always loved to hear it. Jungkook isn’t sure if this is still the case.

“I fell in love with you, and it was a privilege to love you. No, it was an honor to. And then I let you go because I chose to stop believing in us—for that, I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to respond, so he remains silent. He thinks he hears a siren in the distance, but something tells him to keep his gaze on Namjoon, the man he fell in love with years ago without warning.

Namjoon’s face has weathered with age, tan and golden as it always is in the depths of summer, with little freckles dusted over the apples of his cheeks. It’s a far cry from the young Namjoon he met years ago over tall glasses of milk tea, but still so similar it hurts Jungkook to look at. This is the man he’s in love with, this is the man he might forever be in love with.

“I don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here,” Jungkook admits, because as much as he went on about how he wanted Namjoon to fight for him, he was also being honest when he said he needed to regain Jungkook’s trust.

“I don’t either.”

“I want to be with you again, hyung. Just. Not now. Not yet.”

Namjoon nods. “I want to be with you, too. And I’m willing to take as much as time as you need. I don’t deserve your forgiveness right away, Jungkook-ah.”

“It’s not about that, though,” Jungkook starts with a sigh. “If we only ever got what we deserved, it’d be a pretty shitty world, hyung.”

A soft mmm in agreement.

“Let me learn what it is to love you again,” Namjoon suggests, and the words both break Jungkook’s heart and mend it all at once. “Let me learn how to love you the way you deserve.”

Namjoon’s eyes have always been the most earnest part of him, and there’s no way to describe the way it feels for Jungkook to have Namjoon’s utmost attention fixed on him. He reads those eyes, he knows those eyes, and maybe he doesn’t trust Namjoon again just yet, but he trusts those eyes.

And those eyes say that Namjoon is going to give his damnedest to follow through with what he’s promised.

Jeju-do is known for its tangerine farms, leaves bursting with fist-sized balls of tangy fruit amidst the salty ocean air. Yoongi had returned to Hyori House with a few in his pocket after Hoseok had dragged him along a few days earlier. Hoseok claimed the entire ride down to Jeju that he’d known a fellow Gwangju brother running a pop-up charity cafe before Yoongi finally decide to tag along.

Jin and Jungkook had been the lucky recipients of said tangerines when they returned, and if Yoongi had silently handed Jungkook the last one even after Jimin had complained about getting none, no one had said a word.

Now that Jungkook is here, he can say he also didn’t expect said Gwangju brother to be living breathing K-Pop sensation Jung Yunho, leader of TVXQ and literal second generation k-pop it boy.

There’s just one man sitting in this brightly lit cafe and it’s Jung Yunho. Jungkook is dead. This is the afterlife. It’s most definitely heaven, even if Jungkook has no clue how he ever warranted making it here.

Good fucking lord, if Hoseok knows this guy—hell, if Hoseok ever dances with this guy. Shit. The world might come to an end from this blatant abuse of power.

The man in question chuckles from his seat and gets up to greet Jungkook. “Hi, you must be Hobi’s friend. He mentioned someone with huge eyes would be coming around today.”

He stretches out a hand and Jungkook stares for a moment then bows at a full ninety degrees, before realizing he needs to shake Yunho’s still waiting hand. Fucking Jung Yunho’s hand.

“Hi!” A voice chimes from the back of the cafe, and Jungkook’s eyes widen. Not only is he still holding the hand of his literal idol growing up, he’s looking at the smiling face of fucking Yoo Yeonseok.

“Um. Hello,” Jungkook says politely, bowing again to another ninety degree angle. A part of him thinks he should stay in this position forever, unsure how many famous people he’ll run into at this rate.

Yoo Yeonseok laughs heartily and wipes his hands on a small towel slung on his apron, strings looped once, twice around his slim waist.

Jungkook realizes his hand is still in Yunho’s and groans, pulling his warm, sweaty hand back to wipe it on his jeans with a grimace.

“Don’t worry,” Yoo Yeonseok assures him, and Jungkook wonders how long he’ll continue calling him by his full name in his head. “He does this to everyone. I only just got him to actually sit down instead of hopping from table to table, so you actually caught us at a good moment.”

Jungkook looks around at the empty cafe and wonders what the fuck is in the water here if it has these honest to god celebrities spouting nonsense to his face.

“Will you guys kick me out if I call you Chilbong hyung?” Jungkook asks innocently, figuring it’s worth a try if everyone in this glass building is somehow delusional as fuck.

Yoo Yeonseok—no, Chilbong—laughs loudly and claps a large hand over Jungkook’s shoulder.

“God no, I respect the balls it took you to say that too much to kick you out. You know what, your meal’s on me. You look sad and I miss Shin PD.”

With that, Chilbong squeezes Jungkook’s shoulder and heads back where he came from, shooting little finger guns the entire way. He looks back once to tip his dumb newsboy cap at Jungkook, and Jungkook fish mouths in response.

He hadn’t even taken his order. Jungkook literally has no idea what’s even on the menu. But he trusts Chilbong hyung’s kind eyes and wide shoulders like it’s no one’s business.

“Alright,” Yunho says, taking a seat across from Jungkook, who’s trying to fit a huge ass strawberry in his mouth. “Lay it on me.”

Jungkook chokes then chooses to focus on actually chewing the fruit before saying anything. The tray of huge red strawberries mocks him from where they sit between the two of them.

“Lay what on you.”

“Anything. Everything? What’s a pretty boy like you doing here all on your lonesome? There’s gotta be some deep hidden secrets behind those giant eyes of yours.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at this Yunho person. He’s really just as fucking weird as he is on all the reality shows these days, nothing like the charisma he exuded when he used to dance to Mirotic on Music Bank or Inkigayo. Goodness, a pang of nostalgia runs through Jungkook suddenly and he feels so old.

He bites back a laugh, realizing Jung Yunho is still much older than he is.

“Do you really ride your scooter everywhere?” Jungkook eyes him suspiciously, figuring there can’t be any way this man is actually real.

“Are we playing 20 questions now, what the fuck?”

Jungkook shrugs, reaching for another strawberry. The dark wood of the table catches his eye, reminding him of the coffee table Namjoon has in his studio. He looks away.

“Yes,” Jungkook says petulantly.

“Okay—yes, I really do ride my scooter everywhere. Siwon has that nice Audi sponsorship where they give him sexy cars to drive and the only thing I can afford is a scooter.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. What on earth.

“Were you really in love with Jaejoong?”

Yunho’s face does this weird thing that’s half surprise and half something else, but he shrugs before actually answering.

“We’re really getting right into it, huh,” he says wryly. “Yes, no, maybe so. ‘Were’ is so definitive a word. Am? It’s all nebulous.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops, and he suddenly sees the shiny Cartier ring he spent his entire childhood analyzing.

“You’re wearing the fucking couple ring, oh my god.”

“Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe,” Yunho says suddenly in perfect English.

“What the fuck.”

Yunho smirks but doesn’t respond.

“Is this place real?” Jungkook finally asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer or not.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. We’re like the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter. We sensed that you needed us so we just. Appeared. This is all a part of your imagination.”

“He’s a filthy liar!” Chilbong yells from the back. “We have an ordinance from the government and everything!”

Sadly, this does nothing to reassure Jungkook. He frowns. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking weird? I watched that one episode of I Live Alone where you set up all your stuffed animals to watch you dance in the morning. I think you need more friends.”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Yunho retorts, laughing loudly at Jungkook’s outburst. “Why, are you offering?”

Jungkook huffs and rolls his eyes. “You know what, sure. Call me up next time you’re in Seoul. We’ll go for drinks and I’ll show you a good time.”

Yunho smirks and raises an eyebrow that, against Jungkook’s better judgment, makes his heart skip a beat.

“You know, as much as I hope you and your man figure things out, I’ll gladly take you up on that. I’m always in Seoul, baby.”

Jungkook has no clue how Yunho knows he has boy problems, but hopes he isn’t reading this wrong.

“Bro, you’re like 11 years older than me. I only know that because I’ve read your Wikipedia page before.” Jungkook pauses. “I don’t have a Wikipedia page, is that okay with you?”

Jungkook’s voice tapers off and when he looks up, Yunho’s face has softened considerably.

Chilbong chooses this moment to re-enter with three teeming plates of warm honey toast, sliced almonds atop huge pillows of fresh whipped cream. Jungkook’s mouth waters at the sight and Chilbong smiles warmly back at him.

“It’s not much, but it felt like what you needed right now,” Chilbong says, and Jungkook bites his lip. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he starts crying in front of some of his favorite celebrities.

“You didn’t even cook anything, you liar,” Yunho retorts, leaning back in his chair. “Hojun is literally growing and roasting his own coffee beans over there while all you do is go put bread in the toaster and think about how to decorate it.”

And oh. That’s weird. Jungkook hadn’t noticed rom-com mega star Son Hojun just casually standing at the coffee bar watching them with amusement. He waves lazily at Jungkook as if he’s a longtime friend, which he returns with a quick bow of his head. There’s no way this is real. None whatsoever.

Chilbong takes a seat and distributes a couple forks he pulls from the large front pocket of his apron. The three take large bites in relative silence until Hojun finally walks over with a tray of mugs and takes the seat next to Jungkook, casually throwing an arm around the younger man.

“Hoseok loves you very much,” he says solemnly. “And any friend of Hoseok’s is a friend of ours.”

Jungkook can practically hear Chilbong and Yunho roll their eyes from the other side of the table. There’s something strangely comforting about it. He walked in looking for a quiet reprieve from the others to ruminate on the things Namjoon said last night, and here he is cracking jokes with some of Korea’s top singers and actors like it’s no big deal.

Contrary to what he’d expect after his interactions with his friends, he finds there’s nothing about the fame and power these men that intimidates him. It isn’t the thought that plagues his mind and sours his appetite here. It’s only been about half an hour since he stepped foot in this place and already he realizes he doesn’t want to leave.

“Um,” Jungkook says, wiping away the cream he knows is sitting on his chin. “Thank you so much.”

“Never be nice to us again, it isn’t becoming of you,” Yunho says, pinching Jungkook’s cheek.

“So,” Chilbong starts. “What’s the sitch?”

Three sets of eyes turn to Jungkook, and he decides he wants to tell them. So he does.

Jungkook rewinds all the way back to the beginning and recalls the first time he’d seen Namjoon at the cafe on campus. He remembers hearing honest to god bells at the sight of him, earning a groan from Hojun that Jungkook can already tell he doesn’t mean. He tells them about the first fall and meeting Namjoon at the bottom, recalls what it felt like to be on top of the world with him, too.

Jungkook fights back tears as he speaks to what it means to crash and burn on his own, tucked away from the rest of the world. If a tree falls in the forest with no one around to hear, did it really fall at all?

These are the things he wishes he could say to his friends, all of whom are sitting within a few kilometers of this very place. A part of him wants to hate Namjoon for roping him into this, for seeing Jungkook as such a burden he couldn’t just suck it up for a few more weeks before breaking his heart.

But Jungkook realizes that in all reality, Namjoon doesn’t have anyone to turn to either.

“I’m frustrated, but I’m trying to understand. What does that mean? Why can’t I just be angry?”

Hojun clucks his tongue. “Jungkook-ah, has anyone ever told you you’re too nice for your own good?”

Jungkook nods slowly. He hears this a lot.

“Stop trying to be the good guy. When you’re hurt, say you’re hurt. When you’re mad, say you’re mad. When you’re happy, shout that shit from the rooftops. Acknowledge what you feel and move from there. It’s not okay that this Namjoon guy crushed your heart out of the blue then turned around and asked you to do this. It is okay, though, to be upset. So be upset.”

No one’s ever told Jungkook to be upset. People always told him to keep his chin up, to not be too torn up by rejection or failure. Instead they’d tell him to channel all that bad energy into good. No one’s ever told him it’s okay to live in his grief for a bit.

“It sounds to me like you have a choice, Jungkook-ah,” Yunho offers.

Jungkook twirls the straw in his hands before looking back up at the man. This might be the soundest thing he’s said this entire afternoon. If Jungkook didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s only now waking from a fever dream.

All around them light streams in through the walls of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, and Jungkook finds that rather than feeling exposed, he feels refreshed.

“I have a choice,” he parrots back at them. Chilbong, Yunho, and Hojun all nod back at him excitedly, reminding Jungkook of a set of triplet puppies he might see while scrolling through his For You page on Tik Tok one day.

“You do,” they echo, as if they’ve suddenly transformed into his fairy godmothers.

“I want him back.”

They nod.

“But not right now. I’m too hurt to even think about us getting back together.”

More nods, though they’re accompanied by little pouts this time. Hojun is the only one to flash Jungkook a hopeful little thumbs up.

“Go heal and then get your man. Let him grow up a little, too. You’ve got this.”

And if the tangerines around him all morph into a giant carriage to bring him back to his prince, Jungkook thinks he’ll gladly follow.

Jungkook decides to walk back to the Hyori House after his new celebrity hyungs send him on his way with bags full of tangerines. After nearly a week of being around his hyungs nonstop, Jungkook takes the chance to soak in the familiar breeze salted with notes of the sea as he makes sense of what he needs to do next.

The ball really is in his court now, and Jungkook wants to be clear about his feelings and expectations before saying anything to Namjoon. If Namjoon had the opportunity to do all this thinking on his own before breaking up with him, Jungkook thinks he deserves some time in his own head, too.

His heart is still raw to the touch and his mind automatically avoids bringing up the painful memories of their break up: Namjoon’s voice devoid of all emotion telling him they shouldn’t do this anymore, Yoongi’s crumpled note, the five minutes before it happened where they were still happy and smiling over Jin’s stupidly expensive groomsman gift.

“How was the walk?” Hoseok asks when Jungkook finally returns to the Hyori House an hour later, a little sweaty but feeling a hell of a lot lighter.

Hoseok’s lounging in the backyard by himself, lying out on the grass as Yeontan runs freely around him.

There’s a knowing look in his eye and Jungkook wonders if Hojun had sent some kind of update after Jungkook waved off all offers to drop him back off at the Hyori House.

“It was good. I had some time to think about things,” Jungkook answers, unsure of how much Hoseok really knows about what happened between him and Namjoon.”

Hoseok hums noncommittally.

“Had some time to think about me and Namjoon.”

Hoseok looks up at this, something in his eyes that Jungkook can’t quite decipher.

“We broke up,” Jungkook says, squinting to catch Hoseok’s expression as he speaks.

Hoseok doesn’t bother pretending he’s surprised and for that Jungkook is grateful. The last thing he needs is another hyung walking on eggshells around him. Once the news blows over for everyone, Jungkook just wants to find a new normal and get a head start on moving on.

“But you know that already, don’t you hyung,” Jungkook trails off weakly.

“I do,” Hoseok finally replies. “Namjoon told me our first night here.”

Jungkook nods. It’s good that Namjoon has someone to lean on, and it fills him more with relief than anything else to know that he doesn’t have to keep this a secret from yet another one of his hyungs.

It’s felt so good to talk about it when all he’s done the past few days is curl in on himself to keep from anyone finding out, and after spilling his heart out to everyone at the coffee shop today, Jungkook didn’t think he could go back to keeping it a secret.

Hoseok is just as much his friend as he is Namjoon’s, and part of being friends with someone is being honest with them. Jungkook’s been all too pliant hiding his pain from everyone else because he’s been embarrassed, ashamed of admitting that the clock had finally run out and Namjoon had eventually left him.

Instead, he’d never stopped to consider that friendship isn’t only about showing someone all his good sides, but his vulnerable ones too. It’s one thing to be a pillar for Jimin or Taehyung while they cry, but it’s another thing entirely to allow them to witness his heartache, too.

Jungkook hasn’t done enough of that, and he thinks he’d like to start.

“It sucks,” Jungkook starts, trying to keep his voice casual as he’s unsure how Hoseok will take his sudden honesty. “Aside from how embarrassing it is to be broken up with, the actual breaking up part really sucks, hyung.”

Hoseok hums and wraps his arms around Jungkook easily. Gently resting his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder, he squeezes his entire body around Jungkook’s in a tight hold.

“Keep going. I’m here.”

So Jungkook does, taking the hard step of peeling back the layers and letting Hoseok see all the ugly mismatch of emotions that reside beneath.

"I don’t think he’s completely at fault here, you know? I don’t know how to put it, but there has to be a reason he was feeling that way. Maybe I said something, maybe I did something to make him doubt us. Maybe it wasn’t me driving him away but him realizing something before I had the chance to get there.”

Hoseok pulls at Jungkook’s chin to force eye contact that Jungkook isn’t really sure how to handle.

“Never think this has anything to do with who you are as a person, Jungkook-ah. Never. Someone ending a relationship with you has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with your worth. You hear me?”

Jungkook inhales sharply and bites back a whimper. Tears spring to his eyes and he lets them fall this time.

Hoseok knows what’s going on in Namjoon’s head. Even more, Hoseok would never lie to Jungkook when it comes to the matters of his heart, because that’s the type of person Hoseok is.

“You hear me?” Hoseok repeats, softer this time.

Jungkook nods and leans forward to press his face into his favorite Hobi hyung’s shoulder. He breathes in deep because this is one of his favorite people in the entire world, whose very existence makes life easier on days like this one.

“Oh baby,” Hoseok clucks, running a hand through Jungkook’s hair, scratching at his scalp the way he likes. “Baby. You are so, so loved. By me, by Namjoon, by all of us. You’re so important, so precious. What would we do without you, hmm?”

It hurts in a way Jungkook doesn’t expect it to, hitting the tiny fixture inside his soul that yearns for the acceptance of his peers that only fame could bring.

A tiny hammer of love, decorated to the tee with unicorn and flower stickers, taps hard, harder, harder at the insecurity and in just a few moments the dam is splitting from top to bottom and letting everything spill out with reckless abandon.

“I’m not exactly sure what he wants from me, hyung.” Jungkook admits, still unsure if this is something he should come clean with. But it’s Hoseok after all, his safest friend.

“Well. Let’s start there, then. Don’t worry about what he wants, Jungkook-ah. You’re hurting and that matters. Maybe it’s too early to think along the lines of getting back together. If the damage has already been done, you’re going to need time to heal before you begin to fathom any of that.”

Jungkook nods because Hoseok is right. Life is already moving so fast that the mere thought of getting back together with Namjoon terrifies him. All the things left unsaid, all the explanations he needs, all the trust left to rebuild—Jungkook doesn’t have the time or capacity to think about any of that right now.

His career is just about to get started and soon it’ll be him in the studio recording tracks and going out to film music videos. Jungkook has a once in a lifetime chance to chase after his dreams, and the thought of offering anything less than his best is terrifying to fathom.

He must be silent for too long because Hoseok nudges his calf with a bare foot.

“Do you hate him?”

Jungkook sits on that for a moment because he really doesn’t know. Finally he shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you still love him?”

This time the answer is immediate. “Yeah. Of course I do. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”

Jungkook swallows, unsure of what Hoseok will say. Hoseok quietly reaches for Jungkook’s hand with both of his and presses it to Jungkook’s chest.

“If you want to try again somewhere down the line, you should. If you decide somewhere down the line that maybe you don’t want to, that’s okay, too.” Hoseok pats Jungkook’s hands and thumbs at the fabric of his t-shirt before continuing.

“The ball’s in your court, and it isn’t going anywhere. So take the time you need to be angry and then to heal and figure some shit out before feeling like you need to give Namjoon an answer. There’s no pressure.”

Jungkook exhales shakily and Hoseok automatically moves his hands away from his heart, instead wrapping his arms that much tighter around Jungkook’s much larger frame.

Clinging to someone doesn’t feel so much like a lifeline anymore, Jungkook thinks as he frees the albatross that’s been sitting around his neck for weeks now.

“Okay,” he says, because he wants to believe that things will be eventually.

It’s what Jungkook continues thinking about as Hoseok drags Jungkook into an empty living room before excusing himself to take a nap. His conversation with Hoseok continues circling in his mind as he himself drifts off on the couch where Namjoon had fallen asleep only a few nights ago, sticks with him until it’s dark again and someone shakes him awake a few hours later.

Yoongi takes one look at Jungkook and stretches out a pale, veiny hand. Jungkook stares, unsure what the hell he wants from him. He’s just woken from a nap, the events of the day squeezing the life out of him before he eventually succumbed to a fitful sleep that felt more like a battle than an actual period of rest.

Now Hoseok is gone and Yoongi stares at Jungkook expectantly.

Jungkook swallows. He’s used to seeing Seokjin’s face peering back at him upon waking up, but he’s never experienced it with Yoongi. Yoongi is always the one on the couch laughing at him, never the one actively participating. But it seems Jungkook continues to be proven wrong left and right these days.

“Is this what happens when you date Jin hyung for so long that you just turn into him? Does the thought of someone watching you while you sleep not do anything to you anymore?”

Yoongi smirks. “You’d better believe it.”

He sounds so happy, and Jungkook wishes he could remember what that feels like.

One time he’d attributed happiness and contentment to liquid summer in his veins, blood pumping a warm velvety gold that glimmered in the sun. Namjoon had smiled and pressed a kiss into Jungkook’s secret dimple, murmuring another something about Jungkook being his sun.

Now Jungkook can’t remember what it felt like to be the sun in Namjoon’s life, let alone his own. Everything is out of his control and everything feels a little bit terrible. Happiness might be so out of reach, and Jungkook is still here. Waiting.

Yoongi bites his lip and surveys Jungkook’s face, expression suddenly growing serious.

“We need to go, Jungkook-ah. Now. Skewers.”

“It’s just you and me,” Jungkook points out, looking around the skewer restaurant with thinly veiled curiosity. This trip was supposed to be about Seokjin and Yoongi, not Jungkook’s heartbreak, but here he is with Yoongi in a little hole in the wall spot down the street from the Hyori House.

“Sucks to suck, kid. You’re stuck with me tonight.” Yoongi pours them each a shot of soju and slides a glass right up to Jungkook’s fingers. Without waiting, he takes his own shot and exhales loudly as the alcohol burns its way down his throat.

Jungkook grabs his glass with trembling fingers, eyes flicking up to Yoongi, who nods once in approval.

It takes a few more drinks, but Jungkook finally feels like he’s had enough to get started.

“Wanna tell me what’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook figures it’d be moot to try and hide it with the way Seokjin had probably already filled him in.

“It’s so unfair, hyung,” Jungkook cries. “Sometimes I get so caught up in the act that I forget we broke up. And then I get so stuck in that before remembering I need to pretend like we’re still together. I wish we were still together. I don’t know why he broke up with me. Maybe if I’d been better, he wouldn’t have left.”

“Jungkook.”

The soju pumps its way through Jungkook’s bloodstream and it’s like the words spill out of his mouth without reservation. He knows it’s petulant to be wound up about such things, but he thinks he’s been good for the past few days.

Jungkook has tried his damnedest to not arouse suspicion from his closest friends while nursing the greatest heartbreak of his life, and maybe it didn’t all work out as it was supposed to, but maybe things aren’t meant to work out the way one expects them to.

He knows it sure didn’t between him and Namjoon.

“I want to be able to breathe, hyung. I just want to breathe. My brain hurts so fucking bad trying to keep up, but my heart feels even worse. It’s like Namjoon hyung tore it out of my chest and left it there. What the hell am I supposed to do with it now? I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want it there anymore.”

Just like that, it feels like some kind of weight lifts off his chest as the tears flow freely down his cheeks. Yoongi pulls him into a fierce embrace, tucking Jungkook’s head into his chest and using his arms to shield Jungkook from all the light and sound surrounding them.

The barbecue restaurant around them fades away and it’s just Jungkook swathed in darkness, except this time its Yoongi’s arms around him, Yoongi’s scent in his nostrils, that grounds him to the present right here and right now.

“You’re okay, Jungkook-ah. You’re okay,” Yoongi promises.

Jungkook wants to believe him, because Min Yoongi never lies.

“Help me to breathe, hyung. Please. I can’t breathe.”

Yoongi hushes him softly and murmurs something unintelligible in his ear. “Just count to ten, baby. Count to ten. Don’t think about anything else, Jungkook-ah. I’m right here with you, let’s count to ten together, okay?”

Jungkook nods. If there’s anyone he trusts with his life, it’s Yoongi.

So they sit as if they’re the only ones in the skewer restaurant, slowly counting to ten together as Yoongi rubs long stripes up and down Jungkook’s back.

Yoongi asks Jungkook to name three things he feels, and he says: Yoongi’s denim jacket between his fingers; the ground beneath his feet; his own breath, hot as it bounces off Yoongi’s jacket and back onto his face.

Yoongi asks Jungkook to name two things he hears, and he says: the sizzle of meat hitting the grill and somewhere, distantly, over the speakers in this restaurant, the opening bars to Cypher 4.

Yoongi asks Jungkook to name one thing he smells, and he replies: Giorgio Armani Acqua di Gio, haphazardly bought at duty free that one time the seven of them had flown to New Zealand together years ago.

There’s a chuckle followed by a hand coming to ruffle Jungkook’s hair.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yoongi whispers, just for him. He makes quick work of calling the waitress over and paying for their meal, keeping a hand on Jungkook’s knee through it all.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi and Jungkook to make it out of the restaurant back into the recesses of night, and Yoongi slides his cold hand through Jungkook’s as they begin walking. They pass the Hyori House and at first Jungkook protests before Yoongi shushes him with a finger to his lips.

“We’re going for a walk, babe. Just you and me.”

Jungkook frowns, unsure what Yoongi is planning.

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.”

“What?” Jungkook tries innocently, but Yoongi clucks his tongue good-naturedly.

“You’re thinking you’re taking me away from Seokjin. You’re wondering if you’re worthy of that. And you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking about how much I love you and how special you are to me. I never had any younger siblings growing up, but I always wanted one. You’ve been my little brother since you moved in with that dumb bowl cut of yours, and that’s never going to change.”

All the anxiety of before has nearly drained out of Jungkook’s body, but now it’s replaced with this overwhelming urge to cry. Jungkook doesn’t want to cry sad tears anymore, though, and lets himself have these happy ones instead.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Namjoon, and honestly, you don’t have to tell me. Just listen, okay?” Yoongi pauses to check in on Jungkook, so he nods and squeezes his fingers around Yoongi’s.

“Back when Jin hyung and I first started dating, we got into a lot of fights. You probably remember some of them, but it got really bad that first year because he was juggling all his new acting gigs while I was still trying to figure out how to get Cypher to become a real, legitimate thing.”

Jungkook does remember those times, memories intertwined with those he’d created with Namjoon: showing him the different songs he’d written for a class, listening as Namjoon would practice his tongue twisting verses for hours on end while he paced his apartment.

He recalls Seokjin and Yoongi slamming doors left and right the December of his freshman year in college, Seokjin storming off angrily to go back to set in a huff while Yoongi would lock himself in his room and only emerge for brief bathroom breaks as the shadows grew darker and darker beneath his eyes.

“Jin hyung was figuring himself out, and I was figuring myself out, too. We didn’t want to be like two trees whose roots grew all mangled in each other. We wanted to be two trees who could grow big and tall while lending a hand and being a support for the other. But it was easier said than done.

“One night Jin hyung had to work late for some shoot and missed our anniversary without realizing it. And Jungkook-ah, I was so fucking angry. I thought he was telling me to go fuck myself or some shit like that. After everything I did to try and make us work, too. So I ran.

“Funnily enough, it was Namjoon who found me that night in the music building just playing and playing as if I couldn’t do anything else. He was so mad, Jungkook-ah. So mad he nearly threw a fit because it was three o’clock in the morning and Jin hyung had apparently cried himself to sleep wondering where the hell I’d gone.

“You know what he told me, though? He said to me, ‘Yoongi hyung, you can’t let someone else’s growing pains dictate your own,’ and I didn’t understand until later what he meant. Here’s the thing, Jungkook. I might be me, you might be you, and Namjoon just might be the man you’ve loved since the beginning of time. But that doesn’t change the fact that first and foremost, we are our own.

“Keep fighting for who you are. Whatever Namjoon is going through…it has nothing to do with who you are, nothing to do with how lovely and wonderful you are, and everything to do with his own insecurities and doubts about himself. Nothing to do with you and how much he loves you. It sounds like he’s more afraid of letting you down or holding you back than he is with anything else, really.

“So let him love you. And let Jeon Jungkook learn how to love himself, too.”

Namjoon is always confident as he moves about a stage, which means there are other things that reveal themselves when it's just him and Jungkook at home: a tiredness that reveals itself in the twist of his mouth when he thinks no now is watching, the way his shoulders droop just that little bit as he sighs. It seems he’s already forgotten that in every circumstance, Jungkook is always looking at him.

Jungkook finds Namjoon outside the next morning, sitting all the way at the end of the pier. The past few days have been filled with tears and revelations and an honesty that hasn’t existed between them in awhile, and while Jungkook knows it’ll take a bit longer for them to reach a happy equilibrium once again, he trusts they’ll get there, slowly but surely.

The breeze is salty in Jungkook’s nostrils as he walks, reminding him of the sea he grew up with. Upon realizing Namjoon had gone for a walk this morning, he spent a few moments trying to make sense of everything he’d said before ultimately breaking down and calling his mom. He isn’t sure if it was the familiarity of the sea or the longing for a comforting word, but he’s glad he did it.

His parents love Namjoon to pieces, and his mom had been heartbroken right alongside him when Jungkook called to tell her about the breakup. She listened while Jungkook cried, never interrupting as Jungkook felt the ghost of her touch over his shoulder.

The thing he admires most about his mother is that while she simmers with passion as both her sons do, she’s also able to dial everything back and work things through logically and objectively. It’s something he also sees in Namjoon, an attribute he trusted after seeing it work up close.

So the first thing he had to do was call her, and like always, she didn’t disappoint.

“Baby, the ball’s in your court now. You guys went through some tough times, and yes, even I have to agree that Namjoon acted like a numbskull. But you’re both adults and you both have the power to talk and work it out if you want to.

“It’s not like your dad and I never fought—you should know that better than anyone. But if you still believe in your relationship, part of being together is learning how to work things out. Yell and scream as much as you want, but always remember to listen.”

So Jungkook is here, following Namjoon out to the end of the line and hoping that there’s still something for them to salvage. He summons the courage to say the things he needs to say, and the bravery it takes to sit and listen, too.

By the time Jungkook reaches Namjoon, the waves are crashing against cement, louder still than the roaring in his heart. From their AirBnb just a ways down from the pier, Namjoon had looked so small, so distant.

Now, Jungkook can hear the man’s every inhale as it shakes and shudders throughout his body. Namjoon’s shoulders hunch over himself, and Jungkook never wants to see him so broken ever again.

“Hi,” Jungkook says, and he hopes the wind and waves don’t send his words away before Namjoon can hear them.

Namjoon takes a moment to compose himself before turning back to Jungkook.

“Hi,” he replies, squinting at Jungkook’s figure as the sun demands to be seen behind him.

Namjoon adjusts his stance even more when he seems to realize a mere turn won’t do. Instead he tucks a leg beneath him and shifts so that his entire torso is facing Jungkook. Jungkook doesn’t know why the small, subconscious gesture makes him feel so fond, but it does.

“I talked to my mom,” Jungkook starts, and Namjoon’s head wags up and down in his attempt to hear everything Jungkook is choosing to tell him.

Something about their configuration doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. He hates how it feels to be looking down at the man he devoted nearly five years of his life to, hates the drastic shift from looking up at him to looking down.

He keeps an eye on Namjoon’s face, making sure he’s not crossing any boundaries he shouldn’t be, then plops down in the space next to Namjoon so they’re finally eye to eye. With the sun behind his back, he sees the way the light hits the planes of Namjoon’s face.

From the glint across his temple and cheekbone, to the secrets hidden in the deep inner corners of his eyes, Jungkook thinks Namjoon will always be beautiful to him. If Jungkook allows himself to dwell in the questions he has, he thinks he’ll find the answers written in the tiny bumps and ridges of Namjoon’s face.

Namjoon is silent as Jungkook maps his face with his eyes, his own trained on Jungkook’s hands sitting in his lap. He sees the cuticles bitten lightly around each nail, sees the way Namjoon’s hands shake the tiniest bit.

“I talked to my mom,” Jungkook repeats, finally breaking the silence between them.

Namjoon nods. He’s always liked Jungkook’s parents, always got along so well with his family.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says suddenly, and the air ripples between them. He changes gears and pockets his mother’s words, focusing instead on what lies before them in the here and now. “I can’t see the stars from here. I can’t see them.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon says gently. “It’s day time. You can’t see the stars right now.”

“But they’re there,” Jungkook argues. “And we’re here. We exist, together, just like we did then. Do you remember?”

Namjoon is silent for a moment. Jungkook’s heart thrums louder and louder in his chest, fear running ice cold through his veins at the prospect of Namjoon having forgotten. It’s only been weeks since their breakup, and Jungkook would understand if it’s something Namjoon needed to do to try to move on. But the possibility of it still sets Jungkook on edge.

“Of course I remember,” Namjoon finally replies, as if it’s easy to say. It sounds like both an inhale and an exhale all at once, settling all the way into the marrow of Jungkook’s bones.

Namjoon suddenly laughs and Jungkook startles, unsure where to look. Sneaking a glance at his former boyfriend, he’s pleased to find that Namjoon is smiling, looking up at the sky as if he’s mentally placing all the constellations the two of them pointed out that night years ago.

“No more secrets,” Jungkook says. “Please.”

Namjoon nods, then seems to think better of the movement. Instead, he voices it aloud, as if the endless wind and sea surrounding them will be the ones to keep him accountable. And in a way, Jungkook thinks, they will.

“No more secrets.”

“If you could have one thing in the world, hyung, what do you think it would be?” Jungkook asks. They’re lying in the grass outside their rented house in New Zealand, trying to catch every glimpse of every star the night sky has to offer tonight.

“I don’t know what any of these constellations are,” Namjoon admits, and a laugh bubbles up from deep within Jungkook’s chest.

“Hyung, you’re the one with the IQ of 148 in our group. You’re basically smarter than all of us combined—how do you not know this?”

“What,” Namjoon defends. “I’ve always been interested in the conceptual; I never claimed to be a master of actual planets!”

“Hyung,” Jungkook musters between laughs. “It’s called astronomy. It has a name. And it’s totally okay to be unsure about it. There’s so much you’re already so good at, who cares if you can’t name the constellations? I sure can’t.”

Namjoon hums and Jungkook can feel it travel from the base of Namjoon’s throat all the way to the point where their shoulders touch. If the sound is a wave, Jungkook thinks he’s catching a ride.

“I think I’ve heard somewhere that the little cluster of stars over there is the Big Dipper? I don’t know,” Jungkook offers.

Namjoon chuckles and presses a dry kiss to Jungkook’s temple.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Namjoon tries, though not unkindly, more like he’s stating an observation. Jungkook waits to hear where he’s going with this. “None of it does. What matters is that right now, they exist and so do we. Maybe we’ll never see this exact same sky ever again. Maybe we’ll come across the same stars over and over again until the moment we die. But every time I look at the stars from here on out, I’ll think of you.”

It’s all a little too much for Jungkook’s brain to wrap itself around, but he tries anyways.

“You love the moon, hyung. What do you think she’ll say when she hears all this?”

Namjoon hums. “I hope she knows I love her, to the moon and back. But even moreso, I hope she realizes that while I’m her child, my heart is with you. At the end of the day, everything I do, everything I say—it’s all for you.

“Even if we don’t know anything about all of the stars that are up there, I think I can confidently say that the universe might’ve been made to be seen in those huge eyes of yours, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook flushes from his head to his toes in delight. Namjoon’s always been so good with his words. He pockets the declaration somewhere deep into his memory; maybe it could be the basis of a song for Namjoon one day.

“That one can be Taehyungie hyung,” Jungkook says after a pause, fully extending his arm to point somewhere in the sky. Jungkook doesn’t think Namjoon can pinpoint exactly where he’s pointing, let alone recognize that there are even stars in the sky given that he isn’t wearing his glasses.

Still, he hums and nods along. He points his own finger in the sky to somewhere far way from where Jungkook’s is leading. “Yoongi hyung,” he says. “Those whiskers you see on either side of the moon have to be for Yoongi hyung.”

Jungkook muffles a laugh into Namjoon’s shoulder. They spend the rest of this stolen night amongst themselves finding a cluster of random stars for each one of their friends, but the message is clear. Moon, stars, earth be damned. It’s always going to be Namjoon and Jungkook at the end of the line.

“I wrote a song,” Jungkook says proudly weeks after they return to Seoul, pulling a sheet of paper from his bag.

Yoongi and Hoseok peer curiously at him, eyebrow arched for the former while the latter’s eyes are wide with glee.

There are scribbles and doodles all over it that Hoseok seems to enjoy if his pointing and giggling means anything, but at the very least Yoongi seems mildly impressed with what he sees.

“I want it to be really atmospheric, I think. Maybe a strong instrumental build up in the first half that culminates in this big, grand thing, yeah?” Jungkook offers excitedly.

He’s proud of this song, proud of the work and emotion that went into penning it, and now he wants to get into the production of it all. He wants to see it come to life in the same way he’s seen Namjoon do with his own tracks over the years.

Yoongi hesitates, sharing a look with Hoseok that the other rapper seems to understand right away.

“What’s the matter?”

“This is…this song has Namjoon written all over it.”

Jungkook freezes. “What do you mean.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok says gently, resting a hand on Jungkook’s knee. His jeans are ripped strategically from thigh to ankle and he can feel the warmth radiating from Hoseok’s palm against his bare skin. “The only one who can do this song justice is Namjoon.”

There’s a silence, as Jungkook waits for the other shoe to drop. They know better than to joke about something like this.

“You guys are in a good place, right?” Yoongi asks. “It might be a good idea to try working together, in a formal setting this time.”

And it isn’t a bad idea, per se, but Jungkook still hesitates.

“Hey, look at me,” Hoseok says, lifting Jungkook’s chin with a finger to force him to look his hyung in the eye. “We’d never pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’ll always have one of us or one of the other sunbaenims around if you need, so don’t worry about that part. But musically speaking, you’re going to need Namjoon to pull this one off.”

Jungkook sighs and drops his head to hang between his hands. He knows his hyungs are right. He knows this song is right up Namjoon’s alley, has known it from the beginning. Fuck, this is exactly what he gets when he sits down and decides to write a song as a letter to the love of his life.

He and Namjoon are in a good place. It’s been months since their breakup, a full month and a half since Yoongi and Jin’s wedding where they shared whispered assurances and a dance beneath the stars.

Jungkook has been settling into the busyness of a soloist about to debut, thoughts of his ex-boyfriend shelved for now as he focuses on bringing his dream to fruition. With or without Namjoon it was going to happen, but the thought of working with him sends a secret thrum of excitement through his veins, eclipsed by the fear that still grips at his heart.

“I know,” Jungkook finally admits. “It was for him, so it makes sense that he needs to be on it.”

Yoongi and Hoseok’s faces both don’t admit any sort of surprise, which should tell Jungkook everything he needs to know.

“I just wish he’d look at me. I don’t know why he stopped.” It’s something Jungkook has been wondering since they’d left Jeju-do, after hearing Namjoon say with his own mouth that he was still in love with Jungkook.

“He’s always looking at you,” Yoongi says after a pause. “You’re so busy looking away that you never catch him looking right at you.”

Something funny unfurls itself amongst Jungkook’s insides. He can’t tell if it’s hope or anticipation, but he hopes he’s right in feeling like there’s something building in the air once again.

A knock on the door startles Jungkook from where he sits at the dining table reading through some poetry books Namjoon had left behind. It’s a worn tome with scribbles all over the margins and Jungkook doesn’t know how it took so long to make his way to them. He savors the glimpse he’s getting into what Namjoon had been thinking and feeling when consuming all of this the first time around.

I saw someone spell this word differently once. I wonder what it means that all these letters get lost in translation sometimes—a page reads, words etched lightly in soft pencil.

“Open up!” a voice calls from the door.

Jungkook isn’t expecting any visitors, but even he can tell from the voice itself that it’s Jimin, and Jimin is always welcome in his home.

“Took you long enough,” is what he says when Jungkook finally answers the door, poetry book still gripped loosely in his hand. His index finger comes to rest on the page he’d just been reading and at the last moment, he decides to dog ear the page right on th corner. Namjoon hates that.

Jimin trudges in with arms full of food and sets up shop at the dining table before grilling Jungkook about his life now that he's getting ready to be a super start (his words, not Jungkook's). In turn, Jungkook asks about Jimin's latest vlogs and the collabs he's getting ready to shoot with his other Youtuber friends Taemin and Jongin. He animatedly tells Jungkook about his ideas for his 5 million subscriber milestone coming up soon, and Jungkook just reminds him to keep from baking 5 million cookies like Joana Ceddia or something.

The silence is heavy when their conversation eventually reaches a lull, and Jungkook can’t look Jimin in the eye, too afraid of the things he’s kept from his best friend for so long now. “I’m sorry, hyung. I'm so sorry we ruined everyone’s trip.”

The words hang guiltily between them, but at the very least Jungkook doesn’t feel his eyes prick with tears anymore. He can’t tell if things are getting better or worse, but he counts it as progress that the first mention of Namjoon doesn’t send him into a frenzy anymore.

“Babe, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry? We had such a great trip."

“But things were weird between me and Namjoon,” Jungkook argues. “Yoongi hyung had to take me to get skewers and we could never hang out together cause it was all awkward and bad.”

Jimin tuts at him softly and reaches a tiny hand across the table to stroke Jungkook’s hair. He immediately closes his eyes and leans into the touch. It’s been far too long since someone’s taken the time to do so. Touch him, that is.

“Happiness doesn’t always mean sunshine and rainbows, bub. Sometimes it means you make the effort to have tough conversations when it’s the absolute last thing you want to do.”

Jungkook pauses, letting the words wash over him like rain, all too similar and different from the afternoon he spent outside with Namjoon back in Jeju-do.

“Do you think all of us are happy all the time?” Jimin grunts as if he’s answering his own question. “You know the hyungs duke it out all the time because that’s just how they roll. Yoongi hyung says he prefers it that way since it means everything’s out in the open.”

“Namjoon and I were happy for the most part, I think.”

“I’m not asking if you were happy,” Jimin says as he rolls his eyes. “I’m asking if you talked to him, if he knew about all the things you were working about in that gorgeous little head of yours.”

The shake of Jungkook’s head comes almost immediately. “I never told him any of that.”

“Why not?”

It’s uncomfortable to consider for once that Jungkook hadn’t made the effort to communicate this to his boyfriend. His ex-boyfriend, his mind supplies.

“He was so busy, hyung, always so tired when he got home from tour. You know how he always called me his sun—if I wasn’t shining for him on the nights it got dark, it felt like I wasn’t serving my purpose anymore. And if I wasn’t doing that, why else would he keep me around?”

A small hand comes to grip Jungkook’s wrist. He tries to swallow, but there’s something stuck in his throat, reaching greedy hands down his chest and pressing down to keep his lungs from expanding with the air he so desperately needs.

Jimin gets up from his chair and circles over to take the seat next to Jungkook, never once letting go of Jungkook’s wrist. Jimin’s other hand comes to rub soothing circles over Jungkook’s back, and the tears that drip onto his jeans feel a little bit like regret.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin hushes, squeezing his grip over Jungkook’s fist. “What was your purpose in keeping him around?”

He pauses. Jungkook never considered that any part of him would deign to see himself as the one keeping Namjoon around. Never.

It’s an honor to love Namjoon and a privilege to have been his partner at some point in time, and he tells Jimin as much.

“None of us love the same way, you know that better than I do. But I also don’t think any of us love that differently from one another, either. If you believe that loving Namjoon was that great of an honor, you should ask yourself if Namjoon was using those same words to describe you, too.”

Maybe that’s where Jungkook and Namjoon had gone wrong after all. There were so many things Jungkook hadn’t said, all the feelings he’d kept privy to himself once Namjoon spent more and more time away from home.

So much of it had been Namjoon’s schedule keeping him away, but a lot of it had also been Jungkook letting things slide and deciding what mattered in their relationship versus bringing all his worries and cares to Namjoon. If he’d had just ten minutes of Namjoon’s undivided attention to himself per week, he wasn’t going to spend it complaining and arguing like other boyfriends might. Namjoon had all the choice in the world—if Jungkook wasn’t doing his job and making him feel good, how easy would it be to find another who would?

Maybe their relationship hadn’t ended when Namjoon said it did. Maybe it had ended when Jungkook stopped seeing Namjoon as a partner, but as a ward he needed to protect from the rest of the world.

As Namjoon’s fame grew over time, so did the number of naysayers and doubters who took to the internet to talk shit about Cypher, criticizing their voices, their looks, their lyrics, everything about them. And while everyone was hounding for blood, Jungkook had quietly soaked it all in and vowed to protect Namjoon in only the way he could.

So date nights had become nights in, because Jungkook couldn’t bear to give user @zicorules the leverage to talk about how much Namjoon liked sucking dick. And where Namjoon had so easily posted caption-less posts of Jungkook’s side profile on his Instagram, Jungkook started covering the camera with his hand and turning away when Namjoon would frown in confusion.

It had never been about the fame for Jungkook. He loved watching Cypher grow and thrive as the whole world fell in love with them, but it had no correlation to his love for Namjoon. Beneath the makeup and expensive clothes was the same Namjoon with the thick glasses and nose stuck in a book that Jungkook had met years ago.

He just wasn’t sure how he fit in Namjoon’s glamorous life anymore: a dreamless, hopeless college graduate who spent all his time with his boyfriend’s friends. A loser who accommodated his entire life around the schedule of his cooler, much more popular  boyfriend.

It’s all pathetic, really, and Jungkook has no clue how to make sense of it all. Not when he sits with the knowledge that somewhere out there, Namjoon still loves him. Full stop.

Namjoon said he wanted to be with him. Namjoon said the ball was in Jungkook’s court now.

And Jungkook has no fucking clue what anyone even expects from him anymore.

It gets easier to exist again.

Jungkook spends more and more time in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok, and he feels confident in the way his EP is shaping up ahead of its release.

It gets easier to breathe around Namjoon without the weight of expectation on his shoulders, the way they start with slow passes in the hallway followed by sessions with Yoongi and Hoseok to work together on Jungkook's EP. Namjoon easily accepts when Jungkook asks for help with his title track, and soon enough Jungkook is learning what it takes to write and produce good music.

Days are filled with recording sessions and branding meetings while evenings are focused on writing. Jungkook doesn’t know what comes over him, but he suddenly can’t get enough.

Sometimes it reminds him of Namjoon, the way he hunched over his notebook sometimes and got lost in stringing words together to convey his thoughts.

And to Namjoon’s credit, he tries. He really does. It starts out as Namjoon grabbing an extra coffee for him before their sessions, then morphs into Namjoon walking him home a few nights per week. It's easy in a way it hasn't been in a long time, and Jungkook credits much of it to Cypher being at home for once, all thoughts of tour trashed until after Seokjin and Yoongi return from their honeymoon.

The weeks leading up to the wedding are filled with little groomsmen duties and Jungkook finds there are even some days he doesn't think about Namjoon at all. It gets easier to live without Namjoon when Jungkook has the space to do so, and maybe Taehyung had been right after all. Jungkook just had to get through the brunt of the trip before it’d magically get easier.

And once the day finally arrives, Jungkook can’t deny that Seokjin and Yoongi’s wedding is beautiful. It goes off without a hitch thanks to Jimin’s immaculate planning and coordinating, though Jimin continues deflecting the credit to “the rest of his team” for being “rock stars”. Undoubtedly corporate speak for a very anti-corporate human being.

PR words, Taehyung mouths to Jungkook lazily.

It’s everything Jungkook used to wish for one day, except different. Where Jungkook wanted warm fairy lights and rustic floral arrangements atop long wooden tables filled with his favorite people, Seokjin and Yoongi’s wedding is so remarkably them.

Jungkook doesn’t know how the hell Seokjin found this beautiful winery not too far from the city or how he managed to ensure that the skies would be clear and the breeze just chill enough to warrant all the men passing their suit jackets over to their partners.

He watches as Seokjin's mother smiles and leans her head on her husband’s shoulder, watches as Yoongi’s mother watches and tries to do the same. Her husband, though, leans forward to touch his nose to hers in a sweet display of affection and Jungkook has to look away before he starts to cry.

Seokjin enters alone from one end of the courtyard, hair slicked back, while Yoongi does the same from the opposite side. Walking the cobblestone with the click-clack of their fancy designer loafers, their eyes are only on each other as they make their way to the center aisle. There, they clasp their hands together and take a deep breath before walking down the aisle to a gorgeous piano rendition of Canon in D that Yoongi’s spent months perfecting in his studio.

His two oldest hyungs walk down the aisle together and Jungkook can’t take his eyes off of them. They don’t even have to look at each other to exude the mutual love and respect for one another that rolls off them in waves.

It makes Jungkook think of Namjoon, and what their wedding might have looked like, what Namjoon might have looked like.

Namjoon.

Jungkook breaks his gaze to look across the altar at Namjoon and thanks the heavens that Seokjin and Yoongi are nearly there themselves because once he starts looking at Namjoon, he can’t stop.

He’s already caught a glimpse of Namjoon earlier as they all walked out with the other groomsmen, but taking a look at him now is completely different given the way the setting has completely changed all around them.

Namjoon’s eyes are on him too, but Jungkook pays no mind as he allows himself one moment of indulgence to drink in the sight Namjoon makes in his dark, slim fit suit. It’s the same grey one that Jungkook has on now, but the colors of their ties and pocket squares are different. Where Jungkook and Taehyung’s are a dark maroon, Namjoon’s (and by extension Jimin and Hoseok’s) are an equally dark navy.

There’s a whole slew of videos online that attest to Namjoon’s ability to fill out a suit, but there’s something else entirely about seeing him decked to the nines across the altar from Jungkook that has something deceivingly pleasant spread through his chest.

The last few notes of Pachelbel’s Canon ring in the air, and Jungkook lets himself pretend for a brief moment that they’re in another time, another life—one in which they’d worked out.

In his eyes, Kim Namjoon is all he sees and all he’s ever seen for awhile now.

Jeon Jungkook fears that now he’s seen this version of him, Kim Namjoon is all he will ever see from here on out.

He’s already cried enough throughout the entirety of the ceremony, wiping free flowing tears as he tried his best to keep his eyes locked on the happy couple. From his place behind Jin, he’d kept seeing glimpses of Namjoon’s new lilac hair slicked back beautifully.

Jungkook’s only seen Namjoon’s hair this color once years before, back when they first met. It was more of a grape color at that point, a shock of fluorescent color that always caught Jungkook’s eye whenever he spotted it around campus.

By the time Jungkook had recovered from calling out Namjoon’s thighs upon meeting him at that cafe as Yoongi's friend from class years ago, he’d finally connected the dots and realized this was the very same boy with the purple locks that he kept seeing around campus.

Jungkook wishes he could say they only made eye contact across the altar once, that his thoughts weren’t completely fixated on Namjoon the entire time Yoongi and Seokjin had been reading their vows. But he knows in his heart of hearts that it would be a lie.

All Jungkook had seen in that prolonged moment was Namjoon, gazing at him so openly from across the altar that he selfishly wished was for a different occasion. An occasion to take place in a big rustic barn, huge doors opening to welcome in equal parts moonlight and starlight.

Jungkook had only allowed himself one quiet moment to wonder. What if this had been us? his heart had sung, and surprisingly, he thinks Namjoon had heard. Namjoon had looked up with wide eyes screaming of pain and for a split second, Jungkook’s first instinct was to close the distance between them and take that pain away. Hell, even if he could help shoulder the burden it would’ve been enough.

But they weren’t like that anymore.

“Hey,” a voice rumbles, and Jungkook looks up to see his favorite high fashion model staring back at him.

“Hi,” Jungkook says right back.

Taehyung and Jungkook together have never necessitated many words. Most people complain that listening to their conversations make no sense at all considering all of their loaded innuendos and references to the past, but for them, it feels right. Namjoon had always been one of the few to smile and furrow his brow as he tried to decipher just what exactly the two characters were trying to say.

“Long day, huh?” Taehyung has a drink in hand, ice cubes tinkling where they roll against the glass. From what Jungkook knows about him, along with the constant fizz of foaming bubbles at the rim, he can tell it’s only sparkling grape juice. Still, Taehyung manages to make it look alluring and glamorous, as he always does with everything he touches.

They’re silent as they take in the sights, and Jungkook wonders how different their thoughts must be at the sight of Yoongi and Seokjin with their arms wrapped around one another, laughing at the various antics of all their friends around them. They look so happy, so in love, and Jungkook aches, both in terrible envy for himself and sheer joy for his friends. He dismisses the thought as quickly as it came, refusing to make this about him again.

“It’s a lot,” Jungkook finally admits. Hearing the words aloud eases something in his chest that’s been gnawing at him since the moment the wedding festivities had begun.

“It is,” Taehyung agrees. Again, a pause. “There’s a garden out there if you need a minute away from all of this, whatever it is.”

Taehyung gestures to the makeshift dance floor in front of them, the wide open area where Jin and Yoongi had exchanged vows now reconstructed to house some of their wilder friends. Jungkook thinks he sees Jackson Wang at the center of it all, wearing sunglasses in the night and dragging over a red-faced Hoseok who happily follows his lead.

“I…I think I might,” Jungkook replies, turning to leave, but Taehyung grabs his forearm before he can.

“Do whatever feels right in the moment, Jungkook-ah. Don’t worry about what comes tomorrow,” he says firmly, a knowing glint in his eye.

Jungkook doesn’t know what he means but he nods anyways, shrugging him off with a loose yeah sure, of course. It’s a short walk to the open garden west of the venue with old trellises shrouded in ivy and vines, and—oh.

He should’ve remembered Kim Taehyung’s omnipresent ability to see into the future, because who else would be sitting in this garden but one Kim Namjoon?

Namjoon, to his credit, doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook, just resigned as he lifts his head at the sound of footsteps approaching. He sighs quietly from his seat on the stone bench in the middle of the garden, and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. Before, he would’ve happily hopped over and taken his rightful seat next to him.

Now, sitting beside him amidst these beautiful flowers in bloom might be too much to bear.

Namjoon pats the seat next to him in invitation and scoots over a few inches to leave Jungkook some room. He gladly takes it and leaves breathing room between them as the chirps of cicadas punctuate the summer air around them.

He isn't sure which Namjoon he's getting now: his colleague RM, his ex-boyfriend Namjoon, his forever best friend Joon.

Namjoon points at the orange petals tinged with spots of brown standing at full attention in front of them and then back to Jungkook’s own arm. “Tiger lilies, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook blushes and unbuttons his sleeve, rolling up the fabric to reveal the tattoo of his birth flower. Feeling bold since the last time he’s seen Namjoon, Jungkook tilts his arm just an inch, willing Namjoon to see the newest addition.

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes. His hands instinctively move to touch but his eyes look up to Jungkook’s in alarm. Jungkook nods once, and finally it’s as if the stars align again when Namjoon’s fingers dance along his skin.

“That’s a clematis,” Namjoon says after a beat, voice full of emotion. “That’s my birth flower.”

Jungkook nods again. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything, but he needs Namjoon to know that whatever he’s thinking right now—it’s correct.

“You didn’t have that when we…when we were together.” Namjoon sounds like he’s doing everything he can to deliver his words calmly, if the fist he has clenched to his other side is any indication.

“It’s new,” Jungkook explains quietly. “I got it right after the trip.”

“Can I?” Namjoon asks again, this time with his words, and Jungkook wants to match them with his own.

There’s no hesitation, not when it comes to Namjoon. Not anymore. “Of course.”

Namjoon takes his time running his fingers along the new tattoo. Jungkook tries not to flinch, as it’s only been a few weeks since Jungkook walked into his favorite tattoo parlor and asked Hyunjin, his favorite artist, for the clematis he’d been talking about for years. Hyunjin had just smiled and pulled out his old binder to show Jungkook the sketch he and Namjoon had come up with together while waiting for Jungkook’s lettering on the outside of his forearm.

“That one,” Jungkook had said that night, closing his eyes as he sat alone in Hyunjin’s chair. “It needs to be that one.”

Jungkook’s original tiger lily sits on the inner side of his forearm, right at the center. Namjoon’s clematis is the only bit of color as it blooms around Jungkook’s grayscale tiger lily—where life had been so devoid of color and texture on his own, he thinks Namjoon is the very thing that adds dimension to his life.

Namjoon’s voice is tight when he finally finds the words to speak.

“Why did you get this?” He asks hesitantly, as if he isn’t allowed to do so.

Jungkook got this for Namjoon, but most importantly he got it for himself. While he believes without a doubt that in the end they’ll work out just fine, he wants to remember everything Namjoon’s brought into his life regardless of the outcome.

Joy. Delight. Wonder. Opportunity. Awe.

Frustration.

Pain in its rawest form, demanding everything from Jungkook while leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.

And finally, love. Love so unspeakable that he doesn’t think one four-lettered word is enough to do it justice.

Jungkook was the one to crash into Namjoon all those years ago, but it was Namjoon who brought such immense love flooding into every arena of Jungkook’s life.

“I got it because I wanted it,” Jungkook replies, because in the end there’s no reason to convolute something so simple. This tattoo exists on his skin because he wanted it to, relationship status be damned. If it comes across petulant, Namjoon doesn’t say. Jungkook doesn’t really care.

“What does it mean?”

“It means I love you still and I probably always will. It means that your mere existence brings color into my life—not because it’s dull to begin with, but because you dial everything up to make it that much more vibrant."

“It’s purple,” Namjoon points out, though Jungkook doesn’t know why.

“Purple is the color associated with royalty, and in modern terms, success,” Namjoon continues, as if reciting his words from a textbook. “You made my birth flower purple, Jungkook-ah, and it’s inked into your skin forever.”

Namjoon doesn’t sound accusing as he says this. In fact, he sounds the opposite: reverent and full of wonder, as if he can’t believe the sight that beholds him is real. It reminds Jungkook of the way Namjoon has always spoken about him, as if he’s the most precious thing to have ever made its way into Namjoon’s possession.

A loud cackle somewhere startles them both, and it suspiciously sounds like Hoseok the more Jungkook listens. Namjoon clears his throat and makes to move away, but in a moment of bold and reckless abandon, Jungkook reaches for his wrist.

“You said something to me once about us, that we were your end all be all. Do you still mean that?” Jungkook’s voice is frantic, and he suddenly understands how Cinderella must have felt when the clock began to toll at midnight. There’s no clock here, no time limit, but the fear of someone intruding on their moment prickles at Jungkook’s skin all the same.

Namjoon’s eyes are searching as he tries to make sense of the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

“I do.”

This might not be how Jungkook expected to hear those words directed at him, but for now, it’s enough. For now, there’s still reason to hope.

One of the first thing Jungkook does in his days back in the studio is meet all his co-artists in the building. Lee Hyun is someone he’s always been familiar with, and even the TXT boys know him as Namjoon’s boyfriend with how often he'd hang around his hyungs' studios before the juniors' debut.

It's exactly what Taehyun calls him when Namjoon brings Jungkook into TXT's practice room to formally introduce the five members to their newest labelmate.

“Aha, ex-boyfriend,” Jungkook corrects, looking over at Namjoon, who bites his lip and avoids looking directly at him.

“For now,” Jungkook amends, because he believes that all this time apart really will result in them finding their way back to each other again. And maybe it already is.

“Hmm,” Taehyun pouts, biting his lip as his little brain makes sense of what he’s just learned. “Should we call you sunbaenim still?”

Jungkook laughs. “Why would you call me that? You guys debuted before me. Just call me hyung. I’ve known you guys since before you even debuted, there’s no need to suddenly deal with formality now.”

Soobin smiles something big and wild and claps a gentle hand over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Nice to officially meet you, hyung,” he says, and Jungkook fights the urge to coo in his face.

Beomgyu also bows at a ninety degree angle and regales Jungkook with a sweet word of welcome and a promise to be Jungkook’s official provider of all the tea in the building. Huening Kai jumps in and elbows Beomgyu in the stomach, promising he finds out about things faster because half the people here still think he can’t speak Korean. A slighted Beomgyu rests his head on Huening Kai's shoulder and mouths a trust me to Jungkook that has him snickering along with the kids.

Namjoon tries to hide his own smile from where he’s sitting on the couch talking to Yeonjun about something probably related to Cypher’s latest project. The huge picture of Jimin smiles awkwardly down at them all and weirdly enough, it’s the first thing that’s felt right in ages.

The feeling creeps up on Jungkook slowly, and he realizes it’s the first time in awhile that he hasn’t actively thought about the tension between him and Namjoon. In fact, he can’t say it’s even there anymore.

“Yoongi sunbaenim let us hear a sample of Trivia: Love the other day and it was amazing, Jungkook hyung!” Soobin suddenly exclaims, and Jungkook catches sight of the way Yeonjun gets off the couch to elbow him in the ribs.

“Thank you,” Jungkook starts shyly before Taehyun cuts him off.

“It was so good, hyung! The way your voice blends with Namjoon sunbaenim’s voice is amazing. I didn’t know sunbaenim could sing like that, but I guess he really is a master of all trades, right?” The kids all laugh amusedly, Huening Kai even going as far as to cover his mouth. Jungkook has no clue what they’re talking about.

“What?” Jungkook asks, thoroughly confused.

Yoongi had asked him to help with the backing vocals for something called Trivia: Love, but he hadn’t said anything about Namjoon being on the track. A part of him thought while recording that the song felt a little outside Yoongi’s wheelhouse, but he’d just chocked it up to his hyung trying to expand his repertoire.

Jungkook should’ve known. Now that he thinks about it, everything should’ve pointed back to Namjoon. He can’t believe he missed it: the soft bridge, the wickedly smart lyrics, the tell-tale build of instrumentals meeting words in a beautiful cacophony of love.

“Your track with Namjoon sunbaenim?” Taehyun repeats, eyes darting between Jungkook and Namjoon at a speed that would be hilarious in any other circumstance. “I didn’t ruin a surprise or anything, did I?”

Taehyun, Beomgyu, Soobin, Yeonjun, and Huening Kai all turn their heads to Namjoon, and if this were any other situation, Jungkook would be laughing at how their insane synchronization isn’t merely limited to their choreographies.

But Namjoon…is looking at Jungkook, a forlorn expression marring his beautiful, beautiful face. Jungkook thinks he’s seen this expression far too often in the past few months when all he’d ever known before was the happy, carefree Namjoon with the dimples in his cheeks.

“Joon,” Jungkook says, pleading with his eyes for some kind of answer. “What’s going on?”

A silence, where all Jungkook can hear is the sound of five pairs of wide eyes ricocheting between him and Namjoon.

“A win for the gays,” Yeonjun whispers cryptically before gathering up all his friends’ sweatshirt strings and dragging them out by the collar. “Goodbye sunbaenim and hyung! Please don’t fuck in here, this is where we have dance practice every day.”

The door closes with a soft thud and then it’s just Jungkook and Namjoon again.

Jungkook’s eyes haven’t left Namjoon’s, and he sees Namjoon’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Hyung,” Jungkook intones thickly, voice catching on his words as he considers the possibility, fuck, every possibility now that it’s out there.

“I…I’m sorry.”

Namjoon’s hands clench into fists at his sides and Jungkook resists the urge to wrap them in his own and soothe out all the tension with careful circles of his thumbs.

“What are you sorry for?” Jungkook asks, because he doesn’t think he understands.

It hurts, but now he wonders. Fuck. Was this for him? He wants so badly to ask Namjoon, knowing he can’t hope for anything but he still does. He hopes and hopes and hopes until the tiny little seed has been watered and patted lovingly without him even realizing it.

It isn’t any consolation to Jungkook really, but Namjoon’s voice wavers as he continues. “I needed it to be you.”

Irritation prickles at Jungkook’s skin. He doesn’t know what Namjoon means when he’s being cryptic and foreboding and just a little bit annoying.

“What did you need to be me? The song? Why? You could’ve just asked.”

“I couldn’t,” Namjoon pleads. “I wrote a fucking love song for you after I shit all over us and broke up with you, and then with me being so selfish, I needed you to sing it, too. I’m so sorry.”

Jungkook tries to think back to the words Yoongi had asked him to sing, but Namjoon beats him to the chase.

“You are my person, my wind, my pride…my love. My one and only love. You erode all my edges and make me into love,” he grits out, as if it pains him to do so.

Jungkook supposes it must, if the way his own heart squeezes is any indication.

When Yoongi had presented Jungkook with the idea, he hadn’t thought twice, knowing this was for the greatest mentor and friend he had after Namjoon. Jungkook remembers what he’d been thinking of while simmering in the words Namjoon had written, and well. It had been Namjoon.

It’s always Namjoon.

“Did you mean it?” Jungkook has to know. He has to. There’s no way he’ll be able to leave this room, leave Namjoon without finding out.

Namjoon, to his credit, is honest. His voice gets soft, his gaze drops to his feet, and Jungkook wishes to never see Namjoon looking so lost in front of him ever again.

“Of course I did.”

Did. Jungkook needs to confirm what this means in present tense.

“You did. And what about know?”

Namjoon swallows. “I do. Always. For the rest of my life, I think. You were my greatest love and you always will be. My pride is knowing you and my joy is watching you thrive and come into your own. And if that’s not with me, I wholly and fully accept.”

He hangs his head like a martyr and Jungkook thinks he wants to both kiss him and punch him in the jaw. For someone so smart when it comes to everything else, Namjoon’s stupidity truly knows no bounds.

“Fuck that,” he spits, and Namjoon’s head snaps up in surprise.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that. So please. Show me that.” For words uttered in the lowest whisper Jungkook can muster, they seem to echo all around them.

Jungkook blinks and tears fall from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks in a way that suddenly feels so refreshing.

“You don’t have to sneak around to try and get pieces of me,” Jungkook says, and Namjoon nods solemnly. Guilt stains his expression once again and Jungkook wants to smear his tears all over Namjoon’s face and wipe it all away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jungkook-ah.” And Jungkook has heard this from Namjoon so many times in the past few months that he’s growing tired of it all. He just wants to move on, already.

“You don’t have to do any of that when you already have me. I’ve been here all along wanting nothing more than for you to see me. Look at me, Namjoon. See me.”

Namjoon looks like he’s about to nod again when all of a sudden he stops. He looks Jungkook straight in the eye instead, searching. For what, Jungkook can’t say. He doesn’t know what’s written on his own face in response, but he assumes it’s enough for Namjoon with the way the panic in his eyes settles the tiniest bit.

“I love you,” Namjoon says, and for a moment Jungkook is reminded of the confident declarations of love uttered behind his ear, whispered into the jut of his hips, yelled into the wind over rooftops and out windows alike.

“I love you too. Always.”

Something sparkles in Namjoon’s eye.

“I’m not asking you to get back together just yet,” Namjoon reassures, and while Jungkook knows exactly what he means by it, he can’t help the way his heart goes hollow and a little funny at the words. “But I am saying I love you and that hasn’t changed a bit.”

Jungkook repeats it back to Namjoon for the simple fact that he feels the same. The raw nature of his feelings haven’t changed since the afternoon Namjoon walked out of his life. Even the emotions he’d had such difficulty processing and working through in Jeju-do are nothing compared to what exists for Namjoon in his heart now.

This is uncharted territory for both of them, neither having gone through the precarious of separating from the love of their life before navigating their way back to each other. There’s no textbook for Jungkook to consult, no stars for him to beseech this time.

It’s just them and there’s nary a beginning or end in sight. Jungkook finds it the tiniest bit reassuring.

Over time it gets easier, the whole being near Namjoon thing. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near what it used to to visit his friends in their fancy BigHit studios because now, he has one too. Being in the building that haunted his nightmares doesn’t feel so scary anymore, after all.

Now Jungkook can stop by Namjoon’s studio with hotteok and not worry about the implications of him being there, what the other producers and idols will think. Yoongi once asked how it felt being surrounded by musicians all the time, and Jungkook hadn’t had the heart to tell him it was terrifying. Now, Jungkook’s learning what it means to find safety and solace in this same building.

Unsurprisingly, it’s a final production session with Namjoon that has Jungkook wondering that maybe. Just maybe, he's ready to be with Namjoon again.

Namjoon sits in front of Jungkook, close enough to touch but far enough away that Jungkook can no longer read the way he licks his lips or furrows his brow in concentration. There’s a thick knit navy beanie slung over his ears, something Namjoon does when the weather begins to chill, and Jungkook is hopelessly endeared.

Jungkook allows the words he’s written to wash over him as he takes the opportunity to see his former lover in a new light. Takes in the push and pull of strings and the tickle of Yoongi’s blacks and ivories that resound somewhere in the distance.

He swallows. Jungkook loves Namjoon, so much. So much it once threatened to consume him. So much he feels himself wrapped so tightly in it that he can’t see any which way around them.

When he looks at Namjoon, he sees the kindness written in his eyes and splashed across his face in the form of the dimples he always loved poking his fingers in.

If Jungkook somehow ceased to exist right now, he’d send up a prayer to thank the universe for allowing him one last glimpse at the one he loves and the one who loved him back.

As much as Namjoon hurt him, Jungkook knows he did everything to love Jungkook in the only way he knew how. Where Jungkook wanted nothing more than to spread himself thin for this man, Namjoon had enough decency to say no. Because he believed Jungkook deserved more.

That’s what Jungkook wants so badly to say to Namjoon: Let me teach you how to love me all over again.

Now that Jungkook is starting to understand what that entails, what loving himself looks like in the midst of circumstances that make it hard to assign himself worth, he wants another go at this.

Maybe that’s what Namjoon is. Namjoon always makes Jungkook feel the most—whether it’s joy or sorrow or pain, it’s undeniable that his presence alone is enough to dial up every one of Jungkook’s nerve endings, so much that an innocent touch from Namjoon is enough to send Jungkook crashing and burning.

Jungkook doesn’t want that anymore.

And surely it won’t end like this.

Surely they won’t come to an ending as unceremoniously melancholy as this.

“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, and Namjoon immediately looks up at him with sharp eyes.

He doesn’t know what exactly has changed, but it has. He feels it in the way the air doesn’t feel so fraught with static and tension anymore. It’s comfortable to breathe again around Namjoon, and he thinks it might be the most comfortable place to do just that.

“There you go, that’s it,” Bang PD says with a grin. Jungkook imagines him envisioning the money he’ll end up making off Jungkook’s voice, and laughs at the thought. Next time he has a moment to sit down and exist for a bit, he’s definitely drawing a caricature of the almighty Bang Sihyuk in his favorite Iron Man mask rolling in a pile of cash.

Dohyung shoots Jungkook a thumbs up and it feels like a blessing after having spent hours in the studio with him literally going every single note on the record.

Jungkook bites his lip to hide a pleased smile and ends up looking over at Namjoon just in time to catch the huge megawatt smile on his own face. He knows Namjoon is proud of him, but to see him outwardly showing that emotion amongst his colleagues in his place of work, over something Jungkook helped breathe to life…it means more to Jungkook than he can even fathom.

He sits and watches Namjoon for a moment, drinking in every part of the man in plain sight while Namjoon watches him back. It’s like the two are suspended in time as the whispers of past, present, and future are silenced for a single moment. Here, there’s no pressure to look or act a certain way to show Namjoon he’s doing okay.

He is doing okay.

Someone clears their throat and Jungkook is snapped from his reverie.

“So…it’s okay?”

Bang PD laughs heartily before tossing a thick arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook catches a whiff of his expensive cologne from the proximity.

“Okay? Are you kidding? This is phenomenal. I’d venture to say it’s nearly ready for release. What do you think, our Slow Rabbit-ssi?”

Dohyung chuckles from his seat next to Namjoon and nods happily. “I think we just tighten up a little bit of the instrumentals, maybe throw in another synth, and we should be good to go. The vocals are exactly where we want them to be, so it’s just a matter of adding to perfection.”

Jungkook nods, pleased to hear positive feedback from two of the people who’ve been fighting tooth and nail for his debut.

“Is it okay if I sit in on some of those sessions? I’d really like to learn more about the production parts of it, if that’s alright with everyone. I promise I won’t try to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong!” Jungkook exclaims, waving his hands in his attempts to keep from offending anyone.

Instead, everyone laughs again at his antics and Jungkook’s cheeks flush with warmth.

“I could run you through those parts if you’d like,” Namjoon offers quietly, staring intently at his iced coffee on the table.

“That’s a good idea, Namjoon. You could probably show Jungkook more in-depth stuff with your own upcoming work since all I’ll be doing on this is some final touches,” Dohyung says before turning to Jungkook, the traitor. “Next time I promise to loop you in earlier so we can go over the entire process if you want.”

Jungkook nods and thanks both Namjoon and Dohyung, unsure of what to make of a new opportunity to spend time one-on-one with his ex-boyfriend. It’s not like it’s anything new with all the preparations surrounding Jungkook’s EP, but it still feels monumental.

“I’ll send you the edits before we finalize anything. Don’t worry,” Dohyung promises, tossing a wink at Jungkook.

“Alright then, if that’s all set, is there anything else we want to go over before our time’s up?” Bang PD asks, looking between his watch and the faces that surround Namjoon’s wooden coffee table.

The rest of the room is silent before affirming that no, there isn’t anything else that needs to be covered. Bang PD claps and pats Jungkook on the back once more before taking his leave, muttering something about acquiring another company or something Jungkook can’t decipher.

Dohyung types something out on his phone before looking back up at Jungkook. He nods once with a smile and shakes both his and Namjoon’s hands in a half shake, half bro hug before leaving, too.

Just like that, it’s only Namjoon and Jungkook who remain, comfortable silence stretching around them. It reminds Jungkook of the times he’d come visit Namjoon at work while they were dating and he’d make himself at home on the sofa while Namjoon continued writing and mixing deep into the night. Sometimes Namjoon would ask him for help with a line or melody here and there, which then morphed into Jungkook singing guides and backing vocals in his free time.

“Sweeter than sweet,” Namjoon would always say about his voice, pressing a kiss to each cheek in gratitude every time Jungkook threw all caution to the wind to belt out the words Namjoon had so carefully written.

“What about you, hyung?” Jungkook finally asks after a beat. The silence has settled around them and Jungkook’s voice sends ripples throughout the atmosphere.

Namjoon regards him for a moment, biting his lip as he chooses his words.

“It’s good, Jungkook-ah. I’m probably biased, but it’s really good.”

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t be, but Namjoon’s assessment feels lacking.

“Probably biased…right. Because you worked on it too, of course,” Jungkook says shyly, scratching his head and averting his gaze. He doesn’t know what he expected.

“No,” Namjoon corrects, voice suddenly serious. “That’s not—that’s not why I’d be biased. Fuck. I don’t know how to say this without being weird about it, fuck. I’m sorry.”

Unsure of what to do, Jungkook remains silent. Namjoon’s always been an outwardly composed guy, and Jungkook didn’t expect to be privy to this kind of vulnerability after their breakup.

Namjoon takes a deep breath and Jungkook looks up, the desire to hear what Namjoon has to say far outweighing his own embarrassment.

“I’m probably biased because it’s you. And everything about you is good.”

Jungkook fish mouths for a second before his lips settle into a little ‘o’ in surprise. He knows what Namjoon sounds like when he lies, which means he knows without a doubt that Namjoon means every single word.

Namjoon avoids looking at him again, tucking his head nearly into his chest as his elbows find a new home atop his thighs. Jungkook mentally traces the lines of Namjoon’s broad, broad shoulders and notices the way they slump as if he’s the embarrassed one out of the two of them.

I’m not that good, Jungkook wants to say.

I’m clearly not that good if you didn’t want me anymore, Jungkook would have said only a few months ago.

But he digs deep into his heart and finds that the fury and hurt that have been burning for so long aren’t quite what they used to be. He’s a little disappointed, a little unsure, but there’s a little tendril of hope sitting there, too.

Jungkook hopes this isn’t the way it ends between them, all unsaid words and stolen glances swollen heavy with meaning. He doesn’t think he’d be able to take it if this tension only continued to grow and grow over the years before splitting them apart for good.

When Namjoon asks if he has any ideas as to what he’d like to call the song, Jungkook answers shyly even though the thought has plagued him for awhile.

“Something to do with planets,” he says, and Namjoon furrows his brow, wracking his brain for something he probably knows already.

It’s completely self-indulgent because Jungkook’s heard the whispers of what people around the company are saying about him and Namjoon. Some staff members that Jungkook is less familiar with are apparently betting on when the two will finally fuck or confess to one another, and Jungkook laughs. He wishes it were that simple.

But the whispers remain the same: That Namjoon and Jungkook gravitate around each other like they’re two planets in motion, as if only something completely unexpected and world shattering could set them off course.

When Jungkook ponders upon it though, he realizes something new: that maybe this something completely unexpected and world shattering was what set them back on course after all.

Jungkook had secretly wondered for so long what differentiated him from another one of Namjoon’s fans, wondered what he was contributing to their relationship that Namjoon couldn’t find anywhere else.

Now he realizes that what he does shouldn’t have mattered when Namjoon has always been in love with who Jungkook is. Namjoon always assured Jungkook that he didn’t care about how much money he made or the fact that Jungkook was still too afraid to allow Namjoon to help kickstart his career with his connections.

It was Jungkook who’d continued to wonder, insecure in the dreams he’d clutched so tightly in his palms and refused to share with the man who loved him the most.

“I got it!” Namjoon exclaims, startling Jungkook from his thoughts.

“Saturn is associated with time,” Namjoon starts, voice steady as if he’s practiced what he’s about to say. And maybe he has. So Jungkook continues listening—hell, Jungkook will always eagerly listen when Namjoon is speaking.

“Saturn is associated with time, because it takes it so long to orbit around the sun. But that’s exactly what your lyrics speak to—just how rare and beautiful it is for something like this love to exist.” Namjoon takes a breath, voice suddenly growing watery. “Maybe we didn’t get our timing quite right the first time, and I know that was my fault. Maybe I’m being presumptuous by automatically associating this song, your song, with us, and I know we’re not really an us anymore, but—”

“Hyung,” Jungkook interrupts, saving Namjoon from his rambling. “I love it. Let’s call it Saturn.”

The smile that Jungkook gets in return isn’t one of the ones that stretch across Namjoon’s face, but he’ll take it nonetheless. It’s a smaller one that Jungkook is well acquainted with, reminding him of the way Namjoon used to look at him shortly after they first met. The tears in Namjoon’s eyes are a new addition, clinging to his lashes as if the tiniest of blinks, the shallowest of breaths, will be their downfall.

Jungkook feels himself falling again, and maybe it won’t take a full 29 years of Saturn orbiting the sun for him and Namjoon to fall back into place again.

It shouldn’t be a big deal when it happens, considering Namjoon practically lived out of Jungkook’s pocket at one point, but it feels monumental when Jungkook invites Namjoon over for dinner one night.

They’d been holed up in Namjoon’s studio again, an occurrence that’s been growing more and more frequent as the preparations for Jungkook's debut EP finally come to a close.

Jungkook knows he has some leftover mackerel in his fridge and his place conveniently isn’t too far from the company. It was one of the reasons why Namjoon spent the night so often while they were dating, arguing that it would just be easier to sleep over and head to his studio from there.

The walk back to Jungkook’s place is quiet and filled with small talk that doesn’t really feel like small talk at all. Jungkook asks about Namjoon’s parents and the home renovations they’d been talking about right before they broke up. He’d planned on helping them at some point, but he isn’t sure if it would be appropriate to do given the circumstances they’ve found themselves in.

In turn, Namjoon asks about Jungkook’s parents and whether or not his older brother has finally followed his dream of moving out to Seoul and chasing after his dreams of making art full-time.

“Yeah, he got settled in his place mmm, maybe three weeks after we—um.” A pause, as Jungkook tries to find his words again. “Right around the time we went to Jeju-do.”

“It’d be nice to see him again,” Namjoon muses quietly, skipping over Jungkook’s slip-up.

And that…that’s not normal, is it? Jungkook wonders how many people are this amicable with their exes. Wonders how many people have exes their entire families are head over heels in love with, how many people are out there coexisting with the people who owned their hearts and for some reason returned them.

But Jungkook also wonders how many people go through life operating under the knowledge that they’ll be together again one day, despite all the shit they’ve been through. Maybe in spite of it, too.

“We should get everyone together for dinner and drinks sometime. He really misses you.” Jungkook heartbeat thuds in his ears as he replies, and it sounds like part suggestion, part confession.

Namjoon nods loosely, head rolling left to right in time with his large steps. “I miss him, too. So much.”

Jungkook’s heart soars. He thinks he hears the flapping of wings somewhere in the distance.

“Let me help you with that,” Namjoon offers once they get into Jungkook’s apartment, moving too quickly for Jungkook to keep up.

The realization seems to hit him at the same time it does Jungkook, because they both freeze, hands outstretched towards the same cabinet. It’s always held Jungkook’s glasses, cups, mugs, anything used to hold beverages, though Jungkook has been known to sip milk out of a bowl from time to time.

Namjoon scratches the side of his face, something like embarrassment blooming across his cheeks. It isn’t something Jungkook is used to seeing from him, but he thinks this could be said for any of the Namjoon’s he’s encountered since they broke up. Uneasy, uncertain.

It’s refreshing.

Jungkook waits a moment, wanting to hear the words Namjoon has to say. If there’s no question, there can be no answer. And he’s tired of doing work he doesn’t need to do.

“Are they, um—do you still keep your cups in here?”

Jungkook smiles and nods. “Yeah. Your cup is probably where it always is,” he says, though he’s certain it is.

Namjoon blushes but otherwise continues his movements as if there was no hard stop between them. There’s a little sigh as he opens the cabinet with a creak, finding his green ceramic mug exactly as he’d left it months ago, sitting just to the right of Jungkook’s matching lavender mug on the bottom shelf. All around are mugs from all different seasons of Jungkook’s life, marking time with their stained insides and cracked outsides.

Instead of reaching for his mug right away, Namjoon frowns. Jungkook can tell just from his view of Namjoon’s back because he sees the way his head tilts a degree or two to the left while his shoulders slump the tiniest bit.

“What’s wrong?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just reaches for a mug on the second shelf. That shelf specifically holds the novelty mugs Jungkook saves for special occasions, like the white mug with the unicorn head on one end or the one made to look exactly like Snoopy’s head.

“I haven’t seen this one yet.”

Lifting himself off the counter he’s been leaning on, Jungkook crosses the few meters from one side of the kitchen to the other to close the distance between him and Namjoon.

“You haven’t,” Jungkook agrees, leaning in to examine the little tea cup swimming in Namjoon’s large hand. He fights the urge to rest his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder because it isn’t his place anymore. From this close of proximity, Jungkook can tell that Namjoon smells exactly as he remembers.

“It’s a story I don’t know,” Namjoon says, looking so small and lost in Jungkook’s kitchen, and Jungkook supposes he’s right.

The cup was a gift from Jin, who’d invited himself over a few weeks ago armed with gifts. Housewarming gifts, he’d claimed, even though Jungkook has lived in this apartment for over three years now. It was obvious he was checking in on his groomsman after the breakup of a lifetime, and he’d brought over a consolation gift from the ceramic shop down the street.

It’s a beautiful little tea cup, sculpted by a potter Jungkook doesn’t know, filled with a love he can’t fathom. There’s no handle, just smooth black ceramic splotched with flecks of gold and silver over smooth onyx. It sits on a matching dish next to its counterpart, a white cup of the same weight and size, also adorned with splatters of gold and silver.

Namjoon swallows and Jungkook is close enough to hear it. If he leaned in any closer, if Namjoon just turned an inch or two to his left, Jungkook’s eyelashes might brush his Adam’s apple. “They’re beautiful.”

“Jin hyung got them for me not too long ago but I haven’t used them yet. Wanted to save ‘em for a special occasion.”

Jungkook wonders if his voice practically in Namjoon’s ear sends shivers down his spine. Their proximity alone is enough to send Jungkook spiraling.

Namjoon nods once before moving towards his usual green mug. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right to use that one today. It speaks too much of past and expectation that Jungkook doesn’t want to dwell on anymore. The little chip at its base had always been a source of amusement today, but today it hurts to look at with Namjoon next to him.

“Wait,” Jungkook interjects, grabbing Namjoon’s elbow. Namjoon immediately freezes, hands stilling right over the two tiny tea cups. His hands look so big in comparison.

Jungkook settles his own hand at the dip of Namjoon’s waist for balance and leans closer to pick up the darker tea cup. Help, he murmurs to Namjoon, who kicks into action to grab the white one.

“Today feels like a special occasion,” Jungkook says before turning away, cheeks heating with the admission.

Namjoon follows without a word but Jungkook will always know the sound of his every move.

This, at least, is a routine the two of them are well acquainted with, though it was one they usually indulged in amongst the rising sun versus the setting one. Jungkook rummages through one of his drawers to grab three sticks of Maxim coffee and by the time he returns to the table, Namjoon’s already pouring hot water into both tea cups.

They’re small enough to warrant just one packet each, but Jungkook thinks that whatever this occasion is that’s growing around them deserves the sweetness of an extra. Namjoon rips off the tops of two packets with his teeth then pours them both into the lighter cup, using the empty packets to stir its contents with the water. The liquid turns that familiar shade of milky chestnut, and it reminds Jungkook of nights spent head down in textbooks across from Namjoon—in coffee shops, in Seokjin’s dining room, in the library.

History precedes them and sits all around them, but surprisingly it doesn’t suffocate them today.

Namjoon sucks the remaining drops of coffee from the packets themselves before tossing them in the garbage and repeating the same treatment with the last Maxim and the darker cup. He slides the white cup over to Jungkook with a crooked, hopeful smile, and Jungkook automatically smiles back.

He uses his foot to kick out the chair across from him in invitation and Namjoon heeds it without a word. They settle into an easy silence sipping on coffee they really don’t need this late in the evening.

“I don’t think it’s fair to call me your sun anymore, hyung.”

Namjoon doesn’t meet his eyes but nods nonetheless. His long, slender fingers wrap around his tea cup, shaking the tiniest bit as he brings it to his lips.

“You were right when you used to call me that, I guess. My entire life revolved around you and everything was about your schedule, even when it didn’t have to be. But I made it like that,” Jungkook insists, knowing Namjoon will take this as a reflection of how his life has come to ruin Jungkook’s when really, it hasn’t. “I just want us to be equals.”

Namjoon nods, the corners of both his eyes and lips solemn as the weight of Jungkook’s words spread through him.

“Jungkook-ah, your dreams are just as important to me as my own.”

Jungkook believes him, because there’s no way Namjoon would’ve gone through with any of this if they weren’t. While he doesn’t agree with the methodology behind it, he understands where Namjoon was coming from.

Beyond the way they lost each other under the shroud of fear and insecurity, Jungkook thinks he sees now that it was never him in this relationship alone. Namjoon always fought for Jungkook and his independence, and the way he let him go was testament to the way he believed Jungkook deserved to be treated.

It doesn’t excuse what did end up happening, but Jungkook thinks he sees some perspective now.

The next time something like this happens, which he knows it will, he trusts they’ll be the kind of people who stick it through together and come out stronger on the other side. The kind of people who say what they mean and mean what they say.

There’s not much more to be said, and the conversation dies in almost the same way they did: slowly, softly, with a whimper rather than a bang.

Namjoon politely declines when Jungkook offers to heat up some leftovers for the two of them to share, and Jungkook tries not to take it personally. He knows it’s getting late and that Namjoon sticking around any longer will lead to awkward attempts at sidestepping the question of whether or not he should stay over.

So Jungkook pulls Namjoon into an embrace that lasts a near lifetime before pulling away with a final squeeze of his forearms.

Namjoon meets his eyes and without realizing, Jungkook finds himself with a smile stretched wide over his lips. He and Namjoon stand in the landing like that for a moment, and Jungkook can’t bring it in himself to look away. Being on the receiving end of Namjoon’s gaze is equivalent to being the only thing in his world, and Jungkook wants to bask in it a little while longer.

Finally, Namjoon is the one to step back and utter a low Goodnight that sends chills down Jungkook’s spine with how familiar it is. Namjoon doesn’t indulge him with a kiss to the cheek or anything like that, but a slow nod as he looks Jungkook from head to toe and back again.

It’s quiet in the moments that follow Namjoon closing the door and walking away, and if Jungkook is being honest with himself, he can’t find anything remotely close to anger inside him anymore. The open wound that had been bleeding out with Namjoon’s first cut has scabbed over in time, only a little tender when he decides to apply pressure. In its place is a myriad of flimsy little bandaids that had done their job but aren't needed so much anymore.

Namjoon’s been trying this entire time to win back Jungkook’s trust—showing up to each of their recording sessions ready to pour his all into Jungkook’s music. He's come armed with his best for Jungkook, and it's everything he could've ever asked for. Namjoon stops to double check how Jungkook feels about his feedback and takes the time to make sure he understands every addition or subtraction they make to the music.

It reminds Jungkook of the way Namjoon had taught him bits of calculus and philosophy in unassuming dates during college, and.

And that's just it, isn't it?

Before Jungkook even realizes what’s happening, he’s grabbing his keys and running out of his apartment. He takes the stairs nearly three at a time with the way he glides from top to bottom, thinking only about catching up to Namjoon.

The streets are empty when he pulls the door open, and his head snaps from right to left as he searches for anything to signify that it’s the love of his life walking away from him again—Namjoon’s lilac hair, the olive anorak he had on as he left, anything, anything at all.

Jungkook let him go without a fight last time and he swears this time will be different.

Namjoon couldn’t have gotten very far, so Jungkook decides to fuck logic and start running in the direction of the nearest subway station, the one Namjoon would mumble the name of in his sleep from time to time.

Fuck. Jungkook didn’t realize it was raining, but it seems the gods are laughing at him today. He runs as fast as he can in the pounding rain, ignoring the burning in his chest that threatens to burst into flames. Instead, he focuses on the smell of droplets falling from the sky and how they remind him of Namjoon. If it’s raining, there’s a chance that Namjoon is still out here somewhere.

Finally, just as he’s about to pause to take a breath, he looks up and sees the moon looking down at him unabashedly. On instinct he stretches his hand out to the sky and revels in how the beautiful, beautiful moon always fits within the contours of his thumb. Right beneath her, he spots Namjoon doing the same thing.

“Hyung!” he calls, hoping Namjoon can hear him over the sound of thunder and lightning and the roaring of his own heart as it demands to be reunited with its other half.

Namjoon is slow to turn, but Jungkook thinks every second he’s waited is worth it when he sees the expression on his face.

His hair’s completely flattened to his forehead thanks to the rain, but Namjoon’s smile is untouchable. Jungkook closes the distance between them in a few quick steps until he’s so close he can count the little freckles on Namjoon’s cheek that no one ever really sees under all the makeup. No one but Jungkook.

“Jungkook-ah. What are you doing out there?” Namjoon asks, eyes darting from Jungkook’s face to his feet in quick succession, as if he’s confirming that the figure in front of him isn’t one out of his imagination.

If this were any other circumstance, Jungkook thinks he might laugh. Everything is so ridiculous, suspended in time along with the rain drenching him down to his bones.

“Hyung,” Jungkook intones, hoping Namjoon can hear everything he can’t find the words to say.

Namjoon is always layering so much sound and texture into his own music, and Jungkook wants Namjoon to listen, just like he would if this were one of his own productions.

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon repeats, taking a full step closer. He lifts the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and Jungkook is so, so endeared.

“I love you,” Jungkook blurts out, much louder and much more sudden than he’d ever expected his confession to go.

Namjoon’s eyes widen so big that Jungkook fears he’ll get rainwater in them. It wouldn’t fare well for Namjoon if he got some foreign substance caught between his contacts and his eyeballs, so Jungkook reaches forward to pull his hood just a tiny bit forward.

Before Namjoon can say anything else, Jungkook has to say it again. “I love you, I’m so in love with you, and I never stopped. God, no matter how hard I tried, I never could.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as his hand falls back to his side, but soon a hand is wrapping around his—gently, reverently, a little bit hesitantly. He takes the warmth in his palm as a sign to keep going.

“You always said that if you love someone you should tell them, so I need to tell you today, right now, that I love you.”

Jungkook swallows, paying no mind to the way the rain is drenching his hair, his clothes, everything. He needs to say this—right here, right now, because he can’t go another moment, another second, with Namjoon not knowing how much Jungkook loves him. How much Jungkook is in love with him.

So he opens his eyes and continues. Everything else be damned, Namjoon deserves to know how loved he is.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” And because it doesn’t feel like it’s enough, Jungkook finally decides to gift to Namjoon the words he’d written with him in mind.

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left. How light carries on endlessly, even after death.”

Namjoon’s eyes soften and his lip wobbles, but Jungkook takes a quick inhale and continues. Every droplet of rain falling on his head, his shoulders, his eyelashes, his hands—they remind him of all the tears he’s cried over the past few months.

“With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite—how rare and beautiful it is to even exist.”

After drowning in them for so long, his tears feel like a lifeline today. Today’s tears are from the moon and he thinks he feels them washing away his pain, tiny bit by tiny bit.

“So I can’t help but ask, hyung, for you to say it all again,” Jungkook amends with a hiccup. “I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen. I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time. But maybe I should say it first—

“I love you and I choose you.”

Namjoon gasps and Jungkook has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He loves this kind, intelligent, selfless yet slightly aloof man standing in front of him to the moon and back. Because Jungkook would defy all ideas of time and space to meet Namjoon on the moon if he ever asked.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” Jungkook whispers, before grabbing a fistful of Namjoon’s t-shirt and finally closing the distance between them.

When their lips meet it’s like nothing else in the world matters. Namjoon’s lips are just as soft as he remembers.

There’s no battle for dominance, just a soft reacquainting that feels so right but also so out of place amongst the thunder that rolls all around them. It’s like finding a favorite sweater fresh out of the dryer, warm and staticky as it wraps around Jungkook’s body.

And oh, those are Namjoon’s arms around him. He hasn’t felt this kind of embrace in a long while.

“You could never read this wrong,” Namjoon pants when he pulls away. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He presses his forehead against Jungkook’s and rain and sky, sun and stars be damned, it’s only Namjoon and Jungkook who exist in this universe anymore.

Jungkook looks up at him with wet lashes and shivers beneath Namjoon’s gaze, all intensity and focus directed only towards him. Whenever Namjoon gives something his attention it’s with his entire being, body and soul, and this is no different.

He doesn’t know what to say—It’s okay, I love you, I forgive you—none of it feels like it’s enough to encompass the vastness that only continues spreading through Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook remembers watching his science teacher in school roll a ball of liquid mercury in her hand and wonders what that would feel coating every inch of his insides.

“I love you. I forgive you,” Jungkook says, and this time he can’t tell if the tears that roll down his cheeks are his.

Namjoon’s so close, all around, hands encompassing Jungkook’s face and surveying every inch of it as if he’s the only thing he sees. As if he's the only thing Namjoon wants to see.

“I love you.” Namjoon blinks and Jungkook laughs as he feels the drag of Namjoon’s eyelashes against his own. “Let me fight for you.”

And Jungkook doesn’t need the words anymore considering Namjoon’s already proven himself to him. Over and over and over again.

“I love you,” Jungkook says. And this time it’s a promise.

The first time Namjoon realizes he loves Jungkook, it’s when he’s head down in his music engineering textbook, waiting for the time to pass between studying and gorging himself on barbecue. His boyfriend of nearly three months sits across the table from him in the huge coffee shop at the edge of campus, and Namjoon can’t believe he gets to call himself Jeon Jungkook’s boyfriend.

After meeting Yoongi’s sweet doe-eyed roommate months ago, they’d quickly settled into an easy friendship consisting of study dates and lunchtime coffees that evolved into actual weekend dates and weeknight dinners between the two of them.

Namjoon’s mother had always told him and his sister growing up that people deserve to hear it when you love them, so Namjoon had done just that, stuttered over pasta with olive oil and sun dried tomatoes one night, some Western dish that Jungkook had insisted they try.

They were at Namjoon’s place this time, Jungkook having picked up the ingredients before meeting Namjoon here after his final class of the day. He’d complained all about his finicky professor and how she’d docked points for using the wrong font size, and Namjoon had soaked it all in, nearly vibrating with the need to confess.

“I like you so much, Jungkook-ah,” he’d blurted out when the need to say something fully eclipsed his already lacking restraint.

“Hyung,” Jungkook had said so sweetly, a tiny splotch of oil on his cheek glinting in the light. “I like you too.”

Of course, his mother had also said to let birds fly when they needed to, but Namjoon hopes he won’t be doing that anytime soon. If anything, he’d like for him and Jungkook to fly together, maybe forever. Realistically though, Namjoon would be grateful to stick around as long as he can, or at least until Jungkook tires of him and needs to be set free.

All that Namjoon knows about Jungkook comes from careful observation of the younger man, and today feels no different. Jungkook’s been biting his bottom lip as he hums along to the radio, but now that it’s an IU song, it seems he’s decided to sing along.

Namjoon has no clue how he’s able to reach those high notes so casually, and he fears that saying something will shatter the moment unfolding so beautifully in front of his very eyes.

Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge Namjoon as he hums and sways with the music, tapping his pencil on the table in time with the beat. This might be one of the things Namjoon likes about him the most: the way Jungkook does everything so perfectly without a clue of how powerful he really is.

Jungkook could singlehandedly bring about both war and peace with this voice of his and still have no idea of his impact, merely nodding and smiling along.

As someone studying music and aiming to make a name for himself in the industry, Namjoon likes to believe he’s in the midst of training a good ear for himself. And Namjoon knows he’s biased when it comes to Jungkook, but he’s never seen someone able to do it all so easily. He wants to hear more of this voice: whether it be the soft giggles every time anyone does anything remotely cute in Jungkook’s eyes, the belting of a rich R&B melody, or the breathy moans reserved just for Namjoon.

It’s only been three months since they became official, yet Namjoon already knows this is it for him. Something about Jungkook makes him want to be better not only for him, but for himself, too. Namjoon is inspired to be good because Jungkook is fundamentally good, and he deserves Namjoon’s best.

Loving Jungkook is easy, and he hopes he gets to do it for a long time to come. Being with Jungkook, knowing him, quirks and all, is an honor and privilege he doesn’t know how he’ll ever pay back. Still, he believes in future Namjoon, hoping he continues to grow into a partner worthy of standing with Jungkook through thick and thin.

Namjoon knows Jungkook is going to be great one day, because he’s great even now in the mundane. Jeon Jungkook is a force to be reckoned with, and Kim Namjoon is just grateful to be along for the ride.

A mere mortal like him, who laughs with the stars and cries with the moon, falling in love with the sheer force of Jeon Jungkook. He wouldn’t have it any other way.