Archive of Our Own

“Hyung, you ready to go?” Jungkook asks from the doorway, but Yoongi’s eyes are fixed on his laptop screen, still typing out a last minute team performance report to email to his boss.

It’s Friday evening again. Twice a month, he and Jungkook make a reservation at a fancy restaurant. One is Jungkook’s choice and one is Yoongi’s choice. Last time it was Yoongi, and he chose an upscale Italian cuisine spot that was way over budget. But without fail, when one of them pops the question, complete with sitting on one knee and capturing everyone’s attention, they get their meal for free.

Genius, right?

It was Yoongi’s idea. He prides himself in it.

“Ah, what?” Yoongi asks and looks up from his desk, meeting Jungkook’s waiting eyes.

He’s dressed up, a dark blue button-up shirt tucked into black pants. His hair is slicked back, the lightest amount of make-up on. Two silver hoops in each ear, the one in his lip taking its place for the evening. And although he looks put together, his white socks with pineapples on them stick out like a sore thumb.

Yoongi holds back his laugh, clearing his throat and asking,“Are you ready to leave?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “I just asked you that,” he says, and Yoongi shrugs, facing his laptop again. He does a short scan of the screen, decides it’s sufficient and well-written, then sends it off to his boss. “Hurry up or we’ll lose the reservation. They’re super strict.”

“You’re so whiny,” Yoongi grumbles back as he stands from his desk, pulling his suit jacket over his shoulders. He powers off his laptop, pocketing his wallet and keys as he walks past Jungkook. He flicks Jungkook’s cheek as he does, stopping briefly in the hallway to pick up his dress shoes from the closet. “You texted me the address, right?”

“What the hell do you take me for, of course I did,” Jungkook scoffs and walks past Yoongi with his boots in hand. He pulls them on near the door, zipping them up from the sides, then slings his jacket over one arm.

Yoongi scrunches up his nose and mutters, “How many times do I have to tell you to get new shoes?” as he stands.

“Shut up and walk,” Jungkook says and pushes Yoongi out of their shared apartment, forcing Yoongi to reluctantly trudge down the hallway, and to the elevator.

“Your shoes don’t match your outfit, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says with his arms crossed, staring down at the dirty combat boots sticking out past the hem of his trousers.

“You’re literally the only person who cares, hyung, I’m pretty sure the restaurant staff won’t be looking at my feet,” Jungkook responds, draping his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi tries to shrug him off, pushing at his arm that seems to be glued to his body. He can practically feel Jungkook’s cheeky grin. “There’s nothing wrong with my shoes.”

Yoongi finally elbows him in the ribs and makes his escape when the elevator doors open. “It’s not appropriate—“

“It’s not appropriate attire for a high-end restaurant, blah blah. Whatever. Don’t care enough,” Jungkook says and jams his finger into the right button, moving closer to Yoongi again. “You don’t have to say it every time.”

“Maybe if I say it enough you’ll listen.”

Jungkook is still grinning, while Yoongi scowls at the numbers ticking down each level of their apartment building. “You know, my mom tried that,” he says, as Yoongi elbows Jungkook again, simultaneously irritated and fond. Jungkook giggles and adds, “I don’t think it works that well.”

Yoongi steps off the elevator and into the cold, damp parking garage, Jungkook at his heels. “You’re a nuisance,” he says and walks off towards his car, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Jungkook skips ahead without any care for the insult, waiting beside Yoongi’s car while rocking on his feet.

“Wait.” Yoongi stops right beside the driver’s side of his car and pats his pockets, frowning. He turns his head towards wide-eyed Jungkook. “You have the ring?”

For a second, Jungkook’s expression is blank before he feels all of his pockets too. He checks his jacket and pulls out the black box, double checking inside for the ring. He tosses it over the roof of Yoongi’s car, and Yoongi catches it with ease. “Thanks,” he says and slips it into the inside of his suit jacket, finally unlocking the car door to sit inside.

They drive to the restaurant of Jungkook’s choice—a steakhouse, this time around. Jungkook insisted that it would be the best they had, and their dessert menu is apparently to die for. So Yoongi agreed to the spot, then agreed to be the question-asker this time too.

There’s a very strategic way they conduct their bimonthly dinner reservations. One glass of wine must be had—pre-meal, somewhere between appetizers and being served. If it’s too close to the end of the meal, Yoongi and Jungkook have learned, they only get a discount. If they do it before their meal, the owner will typically come to their table themselves and offer their dinner and dessert, for free. They’ve been running their little scam long enough to have worked out the kinks.

Jungkook leads them inside the restaurant after Yoongi gives his keys to the valet, right on time, asking for their reservation under his name. Yoongi seats himself across from Jungkook, scooting his chair closer to the table.

It’s a high-end restaurant, that’s for sure. The room is fairly quiet, soft talking amongst other parties, classical music filtering through the speakers. The places that Jungkook ends up picking tend to fall into this category. Jungkook’s always been a little high maintenance.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says from over his menu, leaning across the table. Yoongi leans forward too, accidentally bumping their noses together, then moving back a little. Jungkook grins wide and turns his menu around, pointing at the drink list. His finger is somewhere around the wine. “They have red wine. Like, the good expensive kind.”

“Order it,” Yoongi says, leaning back in his chair again, dropping his eyes to the menu again. “I drink whatever you do. You know that.”

“I was just telling you.”

“Okay. Tell the waiter instead.” Yoongi bites his lip as he reads the different varieties of steak cuts the restaurant serves. He ends up deciding he wants a ribeye, then turns his attention to Jungkook.

Jungkook keeps his eyebrows furrowed at the menu, hums of deliberation—deep, thinking sighs. For Yoongi, this is prime entertainment. Nothing compares to Jungkook’s expressions throughout the evening. His reactions to the fake proposal are almost as genuine as his reactions to the food. They’re practically identical, really; wide eyes and lips parted. Sometimes, Yoongi has seen Jungkook cry over how good their food is.

Their waiter comes around and Jungkook orders the wine he wants, and a salad as an appetizer. Yoongi skips on getting an appetizer since he ate late into the afternoon. The waiter collects their menus after they both order their actual dinner, and the man bows politely before he leaves their table. Jungkook looks around the room for a second, then at Yoongi. He leans forward, tongue pressed against his cheek.

“How’s that promotion thing going at work?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi can feel himself pale at the reminder. Jungkook winces, then laughs quietly. His hand falls over Yoongi’s, just to sell the whole being-a-couple thing. “That bad?”

“Ah, kinda.” Yoongi sighs just at the thought of it.

He and another team leader in the human resources department of the sales company he works at have been at each other’s neck for this promotion. Their boss is looking for a new assistant director after the last woman moved branches—Yoongi and Jinsun, the other team leader, are the most likely candidates. The human resources floor has turned into a war zone because of it.

This promotion is everything Yoongi has been working towards since he graduated university. He’s been working at their company for almost five years and he climbed his way up the ladder, now having his own office in comparison to the tiny corner cubicle he started with.

This promotion means a bigger apartment for him and Jungkook, too. It means treating his parents to nicer gifts. It means Yoongi priding himself on the numbers on his paycheck instead of trying to spread himself thin.

“I’m trying not to go overboard, but it’s hard. Yoon Jinsun is literally starting to sabotage me.” Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, then shakes his head. Jungkook tilts his head to the side. “It’s not worth thinking about right now. I just want to enjoy dinner.”

“Okay, well—what movie should we watch when we go home?” Jungkook instantly changes the subject and props his chin in his hand, smiling at Yoongi.

Yoongi drums his fingers against the table, aware of the weighty ring he’s carrying in his pocket, replying, “You’re probably just gonna make me watch the Avengers again, so why do you even bother asking?”

“Because I want to see if you’ll admit to enjoying them.”

“I admit nothing.” Yoongi huffs through his nose. “They’re just fighting all the time. What’s so entertaining about it?”

Jungkook drops his smile almost instantly and crosses his arms, chin up high. The shadows on his face shift with his movement, a little spotlight on him—Yoongi thinks that’s perfect for asking. But he’s still waiting on the wine.

“You will never get it, will you?” Jungkook sighs dramatically. “I won’t even bother explaining it.”

Yoongi shrugs and pulls his arms off the table when the waiter brings their wine. Jungkook eagerly pours the two glasses for them—they clink and Yoongi has a sip, smacking his lips after. He meets eyes with Jungkook, who has his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a pout. Jungkook takes another sip, then sighs as if he actually knows a damn thing about wines.

“Don’t know if I like it,” he says, and Yoongi takes another sip to gauge his own opinion. He doesn’t mind it. Jungkook drinks a longer sip, licking his lips for the excess. “It tastes like… berries. But like, the ones that have gone bad? The ones they throw out because they’re misshaped and sour.”

Yoongi takes another sip and feels his mouth twitch to the left after he swallows. “Shit,” he mutters as he sets the glass back on the table. “That actually makes sense.”

Jungkook smiles proudly and folds his arms on the table. “Thank you. I’ve been working on my wine descriptions.”

“Why?” Yoongi laughs, teasing, tracing the rim of his wine glass. He watches Jungkook finish his off. “You literally aren’t anywhere near being a wine connoisseur.”

“What, being an IT-specialist and a wine connoisseur don’t go hand-in-hand?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “No,” he says and pushes himself away from the table, reaching into his pocket. He watches Jungkook’s face light up with excitement. Yoongi knows that doing these small-cons gives Jungkook an adrenaline rush. It kind of gets Yoongi’s blood pumping too. “I’m gonna get up now.”

“Actually, you’re getting down—”

“Shut up,” Yoongi whispers beneath his breath, cursing Jungkook for being such a smart-ass.

He slides out of his seat discreetly and sits down on his right knee, gazing up at Jungkook. From here, Yoongi can see Jungkook’s bright eyes and playful smile staring back at him. It’s strange—Jungkook pulls together his act for the five minutes he actually pretends to be Yoongi’s long-time partner and Yoongi actually… enjoys this part the most. The reaction. The attention. He kind of, sort of loves it.

“Jeon Jungkook,” Yoongi says, dramatic voice and everything. He’s learned over the last few months they’ve done this that overselling it is better than underselling it. There are a few restaurants they were banned and kicked out from for not doing the job right. “You make me a very happy man.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook fans his face, which is actually quite flushed.

Easily, Yoongi pulls his rehearsed speech out of his ass. “You’ve been my love for the past three years. Every morning, day, evening, and night that I spend with you will never be enough.” He smiles, genuinely, more because he’s on the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter. He has the attention of the people seated around them. Jungkook is sitting, waiting. “Will you marry me?”

A few people gasp and coo at them. Jungkook doesn’t answer verbally, too busy looking choked up. He nods his head and sits on his knees in front of Yoongi. Habitually, Yoongi slips the fake silver engagement band on Jungkook’s finger and lets his body be pulled into a hug. Jungkook kisses the corner of his mouth, almost a real kiss, but not quite. Yoongi grins at Jungkook knowingly.

It’s a success.

Indeed, their food and dessert and wine are all on the house. Dinner passes in a blur of meat and bad jokes and complaints about their work lives. Jungkook tells Yoongi about hanging out with his work friends—and Yoongi gets a little more wine in his system before he drones on about the shit Yoon Jinsun is pulling in order to snag the promotion instead of Yoongi.

At the end of the night, Yoongi sober, they both profusely thank the owner one last time for providing them with a free meal. They step out to the sidewalk arm-in-arm, Jungkook still loopy from the wine, leaning his head on top of Yoongi’s while they wait for the valet to bring the car around. He’s babbling about a new album he’s going to play on their drive home, and Yoongi simply bears with it because Jungkook is his best friend.

"Min Yoongi-ssi?"

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, loosening his hold on Jungkook, who slowly stops talking. Yoongi turns to face the man addressing him, who’s joined by another middle-aged woman and a girl in her early-teen years.

“Director Hong,” Yoongi says and bows, Jungkook wisely follows suit. Jungkook keeps his arm linked with Yoongi’s, even as Yoongi tries to shake him off. “What a surprise.”

Director Hong smiles politely. “I had no idea you were in a relationship,” he says, and Yoongi almost says I’m not, when he remembers the whole reason why he and Jungkook are here.

Instead, Yoongi smiles and moves his arm around Jungkook’s waist to pull him closer. Jungkook’s hands clasp in front of him, looking back at Yoongi with a questioning look in his eyes. Yoongi responds by telling Jungkook, with his eyes, to just go with it.

“Jungkookie just felt like someone I should keep to myself,” he says, and smiles up at Jungkook, who’s blushing under the city lights. Jungkook smiles back and drops his chin shyly, moving one arm around Yoongi. “I prefer keeping my private life and work life separate anyway.”

This information seems to bother Director Hong, and Yoongi fears he might have said the wrong thing. Luckily, Jungkook swoops in and saves him by introducing himself. He bows again and gives Director Hong and his wife a firm handshake. His palm returns to its spot against Yoongi’s hip. “My name is Jeon Jungkook. I’ve been keeping hyung to myself, rather than him separating our lives.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Director Hong’s wife says, and gestures for Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook offers it delicately, showing off the silver ring. They pooled together to buy it a few months ago—it’s adjustable, so they fit it to each man’s size depending on who’s doing the asking that night. “It’s lovely. You must love each other very much.”

This has never happened to them before. Yoongi manages an awkward laugh and prays for the valet to hurry up with his car. “Yes,” he chokes out, clearing his throat. “I apologize. Jungkook’s a little tipsy.”

“Hyung—”

“You should join us for the department dinner next Thursday. I would love to get to know you more, Jungkook-ssi. Yoongi never brings anyone,” Director Hong says and Yoongi is—mortified by this offer. He is well aware that Jungkook only has free food floating around in his brain. “It’s a relaxed occasion. We try to conduct it for department bonding. Much less fancy than this place.”

Yoongi goes to decline, but Jungkook warmly exclaims, “Sure!” and Yoongi nearly punches him in the face for it. Jungkook continues to smile politely. “I’d love to.”

They’re saved by the valet employee. Yoongi pulls away from Jungkook to accept his car keys and bids his boss goodbye. He gets into the driver’s seat of his car, peering out the window of the passenger side as he waits for Jungkook. It takes a few seconds, but Jungkook pulls the car door open and sits in the passenger seat, wiggling to get comfortable after buckling himself. Yoongi stares at him, unamused.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What?” Jungkook looks up with wide, innocent eyes—which isn’t fair, even if Yoongi considers himself immune to them.

Yoongi huffs and adjusts the seat a little, then shifts the gear into drive so he can pull away from the curb. “That was my boss, Jungkook. You just agreed to have dinner with everyone I know at work.”

“Free food,” Jungkook says, as Yoongi predicted. Yoongi sighs and presses on the breaks when he nears a red light. “You never told me that you’re allowed to bring people. You always go alone. Why do you always keep free food from me?”

“Because I’d have to pay for you.”

“Am I not worth treating?”

“I’ve probably spent thousands of won paying for your meals in the last six years, I’d shut it if I were you.”

Jungkook leans over the center console as Yoongi drives. “It could be fun,” he says and Yoongi raises his eyebrow, unconvinced. “Look at it this way, hyung. Your boss already seems to like me a little. And you’re trying to get that promotion, right? You obviously can’t tell Director Hong why we were actually here tonight. So… I pretend to be your cute, angelic fiancé until you get it.”

“Cute, angelic fiancé?” Yoongi laughs at that, pushing Jungkook’s shoulder away so he has more room for himself. He can see Jungkook’s excited smile in the corner of his eye. “What makes you think that this idea will work?”

“Oh, I have no clue.” Jungkook lets out a big sigh, stretching his arms out in front of him. “But I can get Director Hong to think you’re a considerate lover on top of what he knows about you being a hard worker. It looks like he values that type of stuff in a person, considering how ecstatic he was about the grand proposal. Well, fake proposal.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his lip, then says, “Okay. You make a fair argument.” He signals to turn right, double checking on the road before making the turn. “What’s in it for you?”

“The promotion benefits me too, right?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just move out and leave you to dust.”

“Hyung!”

Yoongi snorts out a laugh at how genuinely offended Jungkook sounds. “Okay. Fine, we’ll do this. I guess I have no choice.”

++

Yoongi leans back against his chair, tapping his phone screen for he has no idea how many times now, waiting for Jungkook’s name to show up. The restaurant is noisy and their table is crowded, his coworkers chattering and gossiping.

Yoongi is nervous—he’s not really open with his coworkers about his personal life. While they tend to talk about their dramatic families or high-achieving children, Yoongi sticks to completing his work. The faster he gets through it, the faster he gets to go home.

Word spread wildfire-quick throughout the department that Yoongi got engaged. A coworker pointed out to Yoongi on Tuesday that he wasn’t wearing a ring. He had to lie on the spot and say that they were still in the process of getting one for him too. He gave it a day, then went into work with a band on his ring finger this morning. He can’t say how many times he’s explained how he proposed to Jungkook. And he tried to warn Jungkook at how overbearing his coworkers are, but he didn’t listen.

Finally, Jungkook texts him about his arrival. Yoongi stands abruptly, apologizing to the woman who flinches to the left of him. He leaves his jacket over the back of his chair and cranes his neck a little, looking over the heads of strangers so he can find Jungkook. He spots Jungkook’s hand waving in the air, so Yoongi waves back—Jungkook starts walking towards him and Yoongi decides to meet him in the middle.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, and suddenly pulls Yoongi into a suffocatingly tight hug.

“What the fuck are—“

“I missed you today,” he says and flutters his eyelashes dramatically when he pulls away. Yoongi stares up at Jungkook, still awkwardly holding his arms. He’s quick to let go, beyond flustered by the sudden show of affection. They didn’t have a chance to discuss this beforehand—looking back, Yoongi wishes they did. “Let’s go sit.”

Yoongi rips his hand from Jungkook’s grip when he tries to hold it, and puts his hands in his pockets instead. “I’m killing you when we get home,” he mutters just for Jungkook to hear, who just snickers and takes his seat in the chair beside Yoongi’s.

“So you’re Yoongi-ssi’s infamous fiancé,” Jinsun says, pulled out of his previous conversation. He angles his chair towards them. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he gets situated—the faux niceness isn’t something he participates in, nor does he tolerate it from Jinsun. “I’m Yoon Jinsun. It’s nice to meet you…” He trails off, looking at Yoongi expectantly.

Jungkook bows his head as he says, “Jeon Jungkook.”

“Jeon… Jungkook?” Jinsun repeats, the syllables sounding slow in his mouth. He looks warily at Jungkook, disapproving.

“It’s not that hard to pronounce,” Yoongi snaps and grabs the menu, bringing it in front of him and Jungkook. He hides their faces from the rest of the table, whispering, “We need rules.”

“I want fried chicken,” Jungkook murmurs, gazing at the menu, his lip ring between his teeth.

Yoongi smacks Jungkook’s thigh under the table, getting his attention again. “Look, if we’re doing this for real, then we need rules,” he repeats, and Jungkook nods his head in agreement. “Like touching. Don’t do any weird shit like that hug. I’m not Hoseok or Jimin.”

“What about hand holding?”

Yoongi flares his nostrils, because he’s vaguely sure that he recently confessed to his friends that he enjoys holding hands, while drunk off his ass. “Fine,” he mutters, and shakes his hair out of his eyes. Jungkook smiles and laces his left hand with Yoongi’s right one. “If anyone asks, use the backstory for the fake proposal gag. Three years dating, and we met six years ago while you were still in school.”

Jungkook frowns, looking genuinely perplexed. Yoongi sighs. “But,” He pauses, tapping his chin for a second, “isn’t that when we actually met?”

“Exactly.” Yoongi glances around at the table, then back at Jungkook. “You can make stuff up as you go. But try to remember it so you can tell me later and we can write it down to keep track. I have a feeling this is gonna be a long game.”

“Cool. Can I order fried chicken?”

“Jungkook, it’s a fried chicken restaurant.”

Jungkook looks at the menu again and says, “Ohhh. Duh.” He pauses. “Can I order beer?”

Yoongi doesn’t even entertain him with a response, knowing full well that Jungkook doesn’t need his permission to order his drink of choice.

He settles into a work-oriented conversation with Lee Chohee about an altercation that came up in the lower ranks of employees. He can feel Jungkook sitting quietly beside him, but endlessly fidgeting. Jungkook’s hand grows sweaty in Yoongi’s grip, though he’s still holding on ridiculously tight.

Yoongi tries to wiggle his hand loose, but Jungkook keeps his fingers locked in. He turns his head toward Yoongi, pleading in the corner of Yoongi’s gaze. He apologizes to Chohee and turns towards Jungkook with a small scowl. It’s barely been ten minutes, and they’re already having issues.

“What?” Yoongi asks, quiet and demanding. It’s a little harsh, even for him, but Jungkook is the one who talked himself up.

“No one’s talking to me,” Jungkook whines under his breath, pouting. Yoongi finally manages to get his hand out of Jungkook’s again, wiping it on his pants. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. My knowledge is limited to, like, tech stuff.”

Yoongi sighs and turns towards Jungkook, putting his hand on his knee in a more genuine motion. He watches Jungkook’s shoulders loosen and drop, nodding at Yoongi as he rubs into the spot just above his knee. “Talk about sports to any of the guys,” Yoongi says and Jungkook nods again. “Ask the woman next to you if she has kids. She loves talking about them.”

“Okay. Thank you, hyung,” Jungkook says and Yoongi squeezes his hand once reassuringly, then turns back towards his conversation.

Dinner passes similarly. Yoongi strays from answering any questions about Jungkook, using what he already knows to answer any easier ones. Jungkook himself doesn’t talk much—he listens and nods along when others are talking before the food arrives. He eats in a more composed manner than usual, which Yoongi is grateful for. He wasn’t looking to tell Jungkook to hold back and hoped he would take the hint.

Near the end, while everyone’s sipping on drinks and letting their stomachs settle with the grease of fried chicken, Director Hong calls out for a toast at the head of the table.

“To Yoongi-ssi and Jungkook-ssi, on their engagement,” he says, and Yoongi’s hands clam up so much that his glass slips from his fingers.

He curses to himself when grapefruit-flavored soju spills over his dress shirt and the glass shatters on the floor. He gets up, pushing the chair back with his legs, feeling small with all eyes on him.

Jungkook is quick to hand him napkins, but when Yoongi wipes at the stain, it just gets worse. Jinsun is snickering to himself on the other side of the table, and Yoongi strangely feels humiliated by this situation. He doesn’t like the attention on him.

Yoongi can hear Jungkook thanking Director Hong for his toast, but that’s all he hears before he excuses himself from the table.

He pulls on his jacket and exhales loudly once he’s outside, regretting agreeing to this. It was a bad idea. He doesn’t understand Jungkook’s point-of-view in making this benefit him, using this fake relationship to persuade Director Hong into preferring him over Jinsun. He’s great in the office, and shit socially—Jungkook isn’t much better than him by any means, even if he tries to act like it.

Yoongi squats on the ground, rubbing his face in frustration, taking his cigarettes out of his pocket. He places one between his lips and lights it desperately, taking a few puffs. He doesn’t register the door of the restaurant opening and shutting, simply sulking to himself as he smokes his cigarette.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, in his soft-spoken voice. Yoongi feels Jungkook’s shadow cover him, then become small to his left. When Yoongi looks over, Jungkook is squatting too, hugging his knees, those awful and dirty combat boots laced up to his mid-calf. His lips are pursed, worried eyes, and Yoongi looks away from that prying gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“This whole scheme feels dumb,” Yoongi confesses, flicking away some ashes. He lets Jungkook tug the cigarette from between his lips, watching it roll around between his fingers instead. Yoongi drops his chin onto his knees. “How will this help me? All I’m doing is making a fool of myself.”

Jungkook pokes Yoongi in the shoulder after squashing the stick beneath his shoe. “No, dummy,” he says, and Yoongi glares at him for that.

Jungkook grins, knowing he easily gets his way with Yoongi. Out of all their friends, Yoongi and Jungkook clicked the most and fastest, no thanks to the soft spot Yoongi grew to have for him. Six years and counting. Two and a half years of being roommates. Jungkook knows him inside out, better than anyone else.

“You’re afraid of showing the real you,” Jungkook continues. “I think, with my help, you can show your work friends and boss that you’re not utterly boring."

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“But you want that promotion,” Jungkook points out, and Yoongi sighs again. “Look, we can even get the guys in on this. Have a fake engagement party? Get your coworkers to socialize with you more. From what I’ve gathered, they’re all a little terrified of you for being insanely uptight and serious all the time.”

Yoongi goes back to his sulking face. “I’m not like that,” he whines and flails his arms around. Softly, Jungkook giggles and watches. “They don’t need to know the less-serious side of me.”

“Why not? You become more approachable. People like you more,” Jungkook says, and he has a point, but Yoongi really doesn’t give a shit about what his coworkers think of him. “Look, take me for example. I’m not exactly a social butterfly either, hyung, but I make friends at work easily because I make it seem like I’m easygoing. Yeah, I work hard too—but there’s nothing wrong with being the chill guy once in a while.”

Yoongi shrugs despondently. “I’m not like that, Jungkookie,” he murmurs and leans his cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder. “I’m work-oriented. My life revolves around it.”

“Now you’re just making up excuses to not do this.”

“Good. Is it working for you to lay off me?”

Instead of answering, Jungkook wraps his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder and squeezes him tight. Yoongi is pulled into his chest, feet skittering against the concrete from his uncomfortable position. Jungkook sighs loudly and Yoongi rolls his eyes a little, trying to hide his endearment. “Com’n hyung. You know I’m right about this.”

“Can’t we do this without you being my fake fiancé?” Yoongi asks, looking down at his left hand, where he’s wearing the band on his ring finger. He’s lucky that his ring size barely varies from finger to finger. “That’s a lot of work. And it’s weird, you’re like my brother.”

“Ouch. Somehow, that deeply wounds my ego.”

“Thank god. It needs to be wounded.”

Yoongi throws his head back in laughter as Jungkook stares him down for the comment, his index fingers jabbing into Yoongi’s sides. Yoongi swats him away, pulling himself off the ground and backing away when Jungkook stands too. It’s one thing to get into a tickle war in their living room, but outside a restaurant where all his coworkers can see is a different story. He holds his hands out to caution Jungkook, then drops them back to his side.

“Unless you want to tell Director Hong that we’re scammers that enjoy high-end food,” Jungkook says and cracks a smile, holding out one of his hands, “then I’m your fake fiancé now.”

“You’re so annoying,” Yoongi grumbles and grabs onto his hand.

Jungkook swings their hands as they walk back inside the restaurant. “Ten more minutes and we can go home,” he says with a gentle hand squeeze, and Yoongi nods as he trails after him.

Yoongi takes his seat and this time, finds comfort in holding Jungkook’s hand. It’s easy to put his trust in Jungkook, even over something as significant as this. Yoongi would trust Jungkook with his life, if he’s being completely honest. They’ve been through so much together already, and he knows that Jungkook has Yoongi’s best intentions in mind, rather than his own. Jungkook isn’t thinking about himself—Yoongi’s promotion hardly benefits him.

And yet here Jungkook is, of his own free will, pretending to be Yoongi’s fiancé. The role sort of fits him easily, even if Yoongi perceives their actual relationship as hyung-and-dongsaeng, rather than his partner, but Jungkook is taking it dead serious. For the next ten minutes, as promised, he socializes and laughs, and makes things up for their fake wedding plans when Yoongi’s coworkers ask. Yoongi smiles along, willing the time to pass and holding Jungkook’s hand.

They wait until others begin to leave to do the same. They bid everyone goodbye and make their escape. Yoongi comfortably continues to hold Jungkook’s hand until Jungkook releases it, and throws his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders instead.

“Should I text our friends?” he asks, and Yoongi isn’t exactly sure if he wants to get them involved. But it’d be way too easy for them to catch wind of this—Jungkook slips up too easily, and he’s generally a terrible liar to people he knows well.

“Maybe. They’ll overreact, but be willing to help,” Yoongi says and takes out his car keys, sober enough at this point to drive them home. “Ugh. Jin-hyung’s gonna have a field day with this one.”

Yoongi sits in the driver’s seat and Jungkook sits in the passenger seat, stretching his legs out. “So will Jimin-hyung, I think. Actually, they’ll all have a good laugh about it,” he says and laughs too, playing with the stereo settings once Yoongi is driving on the road. “I think everyone’s still coming over tomorrow night. We can just tell them then.”

“Shit. Is it already our turn?”

“Hm. I think so.” Jungkook makes a few more thinking sounds, checking his phone. “Ah. Yeah, I put it in my calendar since we forgot the last time.”

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright. Tomorrow night, then."”

++

“Okay. We have a… predicament,” Jungkook says as Yoongi sets seven beers on the coffee table, wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants.

“I don’t know if predicament is the correct word,” Yoongi says and drops onto the couch, between Jungkook and Jimin, sighing loudly. “But we do have a slight problem.”

“Those mean the same thing,” Jimin says, deadpan. Yoongi ignores him.

Namjoon sits up a little, seated in the sunken leather recliner. Hoseok is on the floor between his knees, facing Seokjin, neither of them paying any attention. Taehyung is on the other side of Jimin, the four of them somehow squished together on the couch. None of them really have any regard for personal space. Well, Yoongi certainly does, but not when it comes to these six men.

“This is the most serious I’ve seen you both at the same time,” Namjoon says, and that sort of catches everyone else’s attention. He pushes his glasses up his nose and crosses his arms. “Is it something financial?”

Yoongi cracks a smile to ease the tension, snorting at the insinuation that one or both of them are going broke. “It’s an interesting story,” he says and elbows Jungkook in the stomach. He doesn’t like that everyone’s staring, even if they’re only his closest friends. He looks up at Jungkook. “You tell them."

“What, why?” Jungkook elbows him back, and Yoongi rubs his ribcage lightly where it stings. “It’s your problem, technically.”

“It was your idea!”

Taehyung sighs dramatically. “Get on with it,” he says, and everyone murmurs the agreement. Jungkook mutters something incoherent under his breath, then adds that he’ll tell the story.

Jungkook pulls his legs onto the couch, curling himself small against Yoongi. “Okay, so you know how Yoongi-hyung and I have been doing that fake proposal thing to get free food?”

Everyone nods. Hoseok watches attentively, Seokjin has his eyebrow raised. Yoongi grabs a beer from the table, just to have something to do with his hands.

“So... last week, we went and pulled it off, but Yoongi-hyung’s boss saw,” Jungkook continues, “and hyung’s up for this huge promotion, but his boss thinks that we’re engaged. I thought we could keep this up until Yoongi-hyung hopefully gets promoted, but we’re gonna need help.”

“You skipped an entire part,” Yoongi groans, and takes a long few gulps of his beer. He rests his wrists on his knees, leaning forward a little. Eyes are on him again. “My boss invited Jungkook to our department dinner last night, which was half-terrible, half-fine. But Director Hong really likes Jungkook already. He’s convinced that it’ll persuade Director Hong into giving me the promotion over Jinsun, a.k.a. the asshole who is also up for the promotion.”

“Jesus, how are your lives so entertaining?” Jimin asks, leaning back into Taehyung, looking at Yoongi and Jungkook with a mildly disgusted expression. “What was it last time?”

Seokjin makes a noise in the back of his throat, grabbing a drink as he says, “Jungkookie had Yoongi threaten and scare off his ex-boyfriend.”

Namjoon snaps his fingers and laughs, leaning back. “Oh yeah!” Hoseok catches the bottle of beer that Namjoon nearly spills while stretching his legs out. “Didn’t they also accidentally get arrested once?”

Yoongi winces at the memories. “Twice. Both times were Jungkook’s fault,” he says, shaking his head. Jungkook goes Yah! but Yoongi ignores the protest. “Almost got me fired, actually.”

“It wasn’t my fault that you jumped into the fight!”

“But it was your fault for starting one in front of me!” Yoongi pushes up his sleeve and points to a pale line near his elbow. “I still have the stupid scar!”

Taehyung waves his hands in the air and shouts, “Alright, alright!” to get everyone’s attention. It’s proved to be quite effective, most times. Whenever they’re drinking, somehow Taehyung is the most responsible one.

Yoongi crosses his arms and shoves Jungkook’s shoulder before settling down, eyes on Taehyung. “So you’re fake fiancés,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi nods in confirmation. Taehyung rubs his chin and rests his hand against the arm of the sofa with a blank expression. “What do you want us to do?”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck. “We’re considering having a fake engagement party. I mean, the party will be real. But the engagement is fake,” he says, running his hand through his hair a couple of times. “It would be weird if we only invited Yoongi-hyung’s coworkers. So, like, if you guys came it would be good? And I’m gonna need help planning.”

“You’re really going all out, huh?” Seokjin asks, a much too excited glint in his eyes. Yoongi internalizes his frustration, even though he can feel his eyebrows involuntarily pinching together. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Jimin says, as predicted. He kicks out his feet and throws his arm around Yoongi’s shoulder. He looks between Yoongi and Jungkook, grinning. “Can I be in charge of dressing you guys? Oh, and do you have rings?”

“I’ll cook,” Seokjin says, and leans back on his palms.

Namjoon shrugs, then pulls his contemplative face. “I can... decorate?” His expression shifts suddenly, shaking his head. “Nope, bad idea. I can buy a cake.”

Yoongi rubs his face and mutters, “What have we done, Jungkook-ah?”

Hoseok turns to face Namjoon and excitedly hits his knee. “Oh, oh. We can get a custom banner and party poppers!”

“I’ll do the guest list,” Taehyung says, then laughs quietly. Yoongi lifts his eyebrow. “Guys, what about your parents? Won’t it be weird if they aren’t here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No. Do not get my parents involved, please,” he says, turning towards Taehyung, looking over Jimin’s head to stare him down. Taehyung stares back, neutral and studious. Yoongi doesn’t need to read his facial expression to know that Taehyung is definitely thinking about it. “Tae. Not my parents. And don’t get Jungkook’s mom or step-dad involved either.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Jungkook tacks on, shuddering behind Yoongi. The idea of getting family involved is equally as horrifying to Yoongi. “We can just say that they were busy, and it was too far to make the trip for a measly engagement party.”

“Works for me,” Yoongi agrees and takes another sip of his beer. “Also, did anyone order food?”

Hoseok shoots him a thumbs up. “Did it before I got here.”

They all sort of descend into a chaotic discussion of what this fake engagement party will be like. Decorations, cuisine, drinks—how will Jimin dress up Yoongi and Jungkook to best look like a couple, who from Yoongi’s list of coworkers should they invite, what kind of cake should Namjoon buy. The whole works. Yoongi doesn’t know if he should be horrified or just go along with it.

(He just goes along with it.)

They don’t even end up watching a movie like they planned, because they’re too busy eating and deciding the details for the party. When should they hold it? What should the theme be? Do they have it at the apartment or at a venue or park? Just—every possibility for a party comes up. Yoongi has to shoot down absurd ideas, like getting a fog machine or hiring a DJ, but he’s… kind of excited too.

The ones left sober at the end of the night, (Namjoon and Taehyung) drive the rest home (Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin), leaving Yoongi and Jungkook to clean up the mess alone.

Yoongi drags himself around the living room, picking up trash, listening to Jungkook’s soft singing as he does the dishes. He hums along subconsciously, tossing their waste in the trash can, then pushes Jungkook aside for a second so he can wash his hands. He dries them with a towel, then leans against the counter near the sink, looking up at Jungkook as he rinses a shot glass.

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi calls quietly, watching him put the glass in the dish rack.

“Hm?” Jungkook turns off the tap and shakes his hands into the sink, wiping the excess water with the same towel Yoongi just used.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Yoongi asks, tension thick in his shoulders. There’s still something a little off about this. He’s afraid of something going wrong. There’s so much potential disaster—if Director Hong finds out this is all fake, then Yoongi is done for. He can kiss that promotion goodbye.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, you should have been upfront with Director Hong last week.”

“Jungkook.”

“Sorry.” He laughs lightly, rubbing his hands over Yoongi’s shoulders in an attempt to make him relax. It helps, just barely. “We can do this. It’s just a little bit of fun while we slave away at our desk jobs. You get the promotion and… when we move into a better apartment, we can start doing less extravagant things for entertainment.”

Yoongi lets his head roll back, laughing. “Is my suffering your entertainment, Jeon Jungkook?” he asks, pinching Jungkook’s stomach through his shirt.

Jungkook squeezes Yoongi’s shoulders one last time, then hides his yawn behind his sleeve. “Just one variety of it,” he says and then gets serious, though his eyes remain sleepy. “I won’t let this fail, hyung. You can trust me.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, pushing his hair back, out of his face. “I do trust you.”

“Good.” Jungkook smiles and pats the top of Yoongi’s head, then takes a couple of steps back. “I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Yoongi nods his head and rubs his eye a little. “I will, don’t worry about me,” he says, and Jungkook nods. He says goodnight and retreats to his bedroom, the sound of his door closing behind him echoing through their apartment. Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, laughing to himself in a rather pathetic manner.

“What am I getting myself into?”

++

Yoongi straightens his back again while he does another slow turn on his heel, stopping once he’s facing Jimin again. Jimin lets out a sigh, chin in hand, elbow resting on the inside of his arm. He shakes his head and Yoongi groans, unbuttoning the fourth shirt that he’s put on in the last half hour. He slips it off and lays it on his bed with the other discarded clothes, adjusting his white t-shirt that was underneath it.

“Jiminie, just choose,” Yoongi says and drops into his desk chair, leaning his head back. Jimin resumes sifting through Yoongi’s closet, humming quietly. “We don’t have all evening. People should be here soon.”

“Why are yours and Jungkook’s closets nearly identical?” Jimin asks, taking out a red button-up that Yoongi’s mother bought for him. Yoongi rolls his eyes as Jimin holds it against his chest, stretching out the sleeve, then shaking his head. The red shirt goes in the closet again, and he continues looking. “It was almost impossible to find an outfit for him. But he looks absolutely delectable.”

Yoongi scoffs and crosses his legs, tapping his fingers against his desk. “He’s not food,” he says, and Jimin pulls out a light blue knitted sweater from Yoongi’s dresser, unfolding it and holding it in the air.

“Sure he isn’t,” Jimin mumbles, rubbing the material of the sweater in between his fingers for a second. “But he looks edible, so I’m still right. Come here.”

Sighing, Yoongi heaves himself off the desk chair and stands in front of Jimin, letting him hold the sweater against his chest. Jimin hands him the sweater, and Yoongi begins to pull it over his head when Jimin scolds him for not taking off his shirt first.

With another eye roll, Yoongi pulls off his t-shirt and replaces it with the sweater, watching Jimin adjust it for him. “It’s nice,” he says, stepping back and looking Yoongi up and down. “You own blue jeans, right? You aren’t completely a heathen?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Yoongi threatens while Jimin just giggles to himself, looking through Yoongi’s drawers.

He tosses a pair of jeans to Yoongi, who wiggles out of the shorts he’s wearing to pull them on. Jimin passes him a belt, and Yoongi fastens it before sliding on his socks across the floor to look at himself in the full length mirror. He pulls at the hem of the sweater, which is a little tight on him now. He doesn’t feel like it’s right—the colors are clashing in his opinion.

“You look good, hyung,” Jimin says, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s middle from behind, squeezing him. “Why don’t you ever wear this?”

Yoongi frowns at himself, then crosses his arms. “Eunji gave it to me,” he mumbles, sighing quietly. Jimin quickly pulls away, turning Yoongi around by his shoulders. Yoongi stares at Jimin for a beat, then pushes him away to pull the sweater over his head again. He throws it towards a neglected, messy corner of his room, looking in his closet again. He picks a black sweater instead, and changes into gray dress pants. He turns towards Jimin again. “Is this fine?”

Jimin crosses his arms. “It’s fine, yes. Not ideal. But it works—why the hell do you still own a sweater that the cheater gave you?”

“Jimin-ah.”

“Yes sorry,” he says sarcastically, flopping back against Yoongi’s bed, staring at the ceiling while Yoongi adjusts himself in the middle. “I shouldn’t badmouth her just because she did a bad thing—you’re too nice, hyung. That’s why you’re actually single and get your heart broken. You don’t watch over yourself.”

“Can we not have this conversation right now?” Yoongi turns to Jimin and brushes his hair out of his face, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin sits up on his elbows, staring back at Yoongi. They continue the contest, Yoongi’s eyes watering and threatening to close—but he only gives in when Jimin blinks and groans in defeat. “Thank you. You can give the sweater away. I don’t care anymore. I only kept it after the breakup and forgot about it.”

Jimin pulls himself off the bed and slides his hands across Yoongi’s shoulder to smooth out the turtleneck. “I suppose I should have dressed you according to your style rather than what I was thinking,” he murmurs, pushing Yoongi to sit at his desk. Yoongi goes willingly, shutting his eyes when Jimin indicates for him to. “I guess you dressed yourself fine too. Are you going for contacts or glasses?”

“Um… what did Jungkook choose?”

“Contacts.”

“Then glasses, I guess.”

Jimin hums and says, “Smart. You’ll complement each other. Jungkook’s in something sorta see-through.” Yoongi flutters his eyes open, jerking his head back when the cold brush of a lip gloss wand touches his lips. He takes the small bottle from Jimin and applies it himself, pocketing it so he can reapply it throughout the night.

He blinks a few times at himself in the small mirror, registering what Jimin said about thirty seconds later. “Did you say see-through?” he asks, and Jimin ignores him completely, pulling Yoongi’s glasses out of their case to hand them over. Yoongi puts them on, standing when Jimin simply heads for the door instead of answering. “Yah. Jimin. He’s wearing something see-through—Yah, Park Jimin, don’t ignore me!”

Yoongi goes after him, stumbling out into the hallway, on the verge of cursing Jimin out when he spots Jungkook.

Well, he doesn’t really see Jungkook’s face—he sees part of Jungkook’s back, through a mesh shirt that has a tank top underneath. Yoongi can see the rose buds curling against the exposed skin of his shoulder, dark and blending well with the black shirt. The mesh is small, barely noticeable if he didn’t already know it was supposed to be sheer, and for some reason, it makes Yoongi’s fingers tingle.

He clasps his mouth shut and takes a step closer, breath caught into his throat. He doesn’t know what it is, why he’s suddenly so… taken by Jungkook’s appearance. It isn’t much different from how he normally looks. If Yoongi’s being honest, Jungkook walks around their apartment half-naked most of the time. So seeing his skin isn’t anything new for Yoongi, he’s been seeing Jungkook’s back and his tattoo and his muscular build for almost three years. He’s just—taken aback, maybe.

It makes a little more sense now, why Jimin called him delectable.

“Uh,” Yoongi says dumbly when Jungkook faces him, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This is different.”

“It’s Taehyung’s. He’s letting me borrow it,” Jungkook says, and he’s already made one of the mesh holes wider by nervously twisting his finger around it. He looks down at himself and shakes his loosely styled hair out of his face, pouting. “I feel like I’ve seen you wear this before.”

Yoongi looks down at himself and adjusts his shirt a little, crossing his arms after. “Because I have,” he says, and Jungkook lifts his eyebrow. “Jimin put me in the sweater that Eunji gave me, so I ended up picking my own outfit.”

“You told me you gave it away,” Jungkook murmurs, pouting further. He curls his hand around Yoongi’s sleeve and tugs lightly. “Hyung.”

“I thought I did,” Yoongi replies defensively, shaking Jungkook off. He moves to the side of the hallway when Taehyung loudly announces his presence, letting him go past them and into the living room. Jungkook crosses his arms too, very obviously flexing, the muscles of his arms shifting beneath the shirt. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jungkook scoffs a little and gives Yoongi a cold look. “Like what?” he asks, tone bitter.

Yoongi sighs knowingly. The history between him and his ex-girlfriend is well-known in their friend group. None of the six were fond of her. Even Yoongi, eventually, got sick of her, especially after she cheated on him with another man.

But that was a year and a half ago, not at all something that comes to the forefront of Yoongi’s mind anymore. Eunji is the last person he cares about, nor does he hold any malice towards her. His friends, on the other hand, have been very vocal about what they thought of her as a person—especially Jungkook.

“Like you’re plotting my murder,” Yoongi finally answers when he pins a name to the expression hanging over Jungkook’s face. “Jungkook-ah.”

“It’s fine. Whatever.” He walks, then jogs away to the dining room when he sees Namjoon and Hoseok struggling to hang something up.

Yoongi sighs to himself and leans his head back against the wall, taking a deep breath. He accepts the fact that he’s going to have a long night, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

After being banned from the kitchen to keep his clothes from smelling, and banned from assisting Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jungkook in hanging extra decorations, Yoongi settles on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand.

He sips it slowly, almost begrudgingly, staring down at the drink as if it betrayed him. He feels way in over his head already. The fact that people are actually going to see him tonight, in a completely different element, is absolutely terrifying.

Sure, it’s comforting to have his best friends all by his side, but things still feel off. Yoongi doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to act. It’s not like he’s been engaged before to know how to behave like someone’s fiancé. On top of that, he’s not that socially competent. He has his moments, but it’s generally hard for Yoongi to connect with other people.

He got lucky, meeting Hoseok, who introduced him to all the friends they have now. They’ve been tight knit for years. These coworkers can’t compare to them, which is precisely the reason that Yoongi was apprehensive about this whole ploy started by Jungkook.

When Yoongi thinks about it, really, his coworkers don’t have a problem being completely themselves at work. Everyone has a bit of a lighthearted energy and keeps personal effects at their desks, indulging in the light chatter before their first meeting of the day. Everyone chats in the break room during lunch, asking to see each other outside work. Everyone is rather friendly.

And then Yoongi looks at himself, and knows all that Jungkook said about him is right. His office is boring and plain, only the complementary painting hung on the wall behind his desk. He’s rigid and uptight—focused on work, doesn’t get approached when it comes to non-work related topics anymore.

People were more open, when they were all together on a team, but Yoongi’s been a boss to most of these people for a little over a year now. They fear him and his work ethic, which is something Yoongi used to pride himself in, but the exclusion feels shittier than it initially did. It’s intentional. He knows this much.

When they sent out the invite for the engagement party, Yoongi wasn’t even sure that anyone would show up. They invited some of Jungkook’s work friends too, to give a sense of balance, but they know that Jungkook isn’t really engaged to Yoongi.

The only people under the impression that Yoongi will actually be getting married should be Director Hong, Yoon Jinsun (who weaseled his way into getting an invite), Lee Chohee, Song Jieun, and Choi Soohyun. Yoongi said they could have plus-ones, so they’re expecting a full house. He’s beyond nervous.

Director Hong and his wife are the first to arrive. Yoongi greets them politely with a bow when he opens the door, stiffening when he feels two hands on his hips. He can hear Jungkook greeting Director Hong and his wife in a polite manner too, welcoming them into their home. Director Hong asks for a tour, and Jungkook takes them after leaving a squeeze on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi enters the kitchen even though he was banned by Seokjin. “Jin-hyung, I don’t know if I can do this,” he whines to Seokjin, who he thinks will be the most understanding out of everyone. “Only two people are here and I’m already nervous.”

“Try this,” Seokjin says instead of answering, holding up a spoonful of soup and a piece of beef with it. He feeds it to Yoongi without question, and Yoongi chews and swallows, giving a genuine thumbs up as the spices settle into the back of his throat. “You’re like an anxiety machine, Yoongi-yah.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“Yoongi-yah.” Seokjin holds up a candied sweet potato wedge stuck to a fork. Yoongi blinks at him. “Why did the sweet potato cross the road?”

Yoongi sighs and asks, “I don’t know, hyung, why?”

Seokjin starts laughing before he finishes the joke, rattling off the punchline: “He saw a fork up ahead.”

The joke is awful, but Yoongi appreciates the effort. He extracts himself from the kitchen after Seokjin returns to the stove, still giggling over his own joke.

When he reemerges, he feels Jungkook wrap his hand around his wrist and nod his head toward the hallway. It seems that Namjoon has taken responsibility for talking to Director Hong, who’s probably the best to do so, considering how intelligent he is. Yoongi trails after Jungkook into the hallway again, then crosses his arms.

“What?” he asks, knowing that he’d put Jungkook in a bad mood earlier by mentioning his ex.

Jungkook sighs and tugs on his sleeves, avoiding looking at Yoongi. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I got so pissed off,” he says quietly—and Yoongi sighs, because he wasn’t really upset at Jungkook in the first place. It feels entirely inhumane to be upset at Jungkook. “I know you’re nervous, so just… hold my hand and we’ll get through it, okay?”

“Okay,” is all Yoongi manages to say before letting his hand slip into Jungkook’s.

Jungkook locks their fingers together and guides Yoongi into the living room, sitting towards the middle of the couch. Yoongi seats himself between Jungkook and the arm of the couch, picking up his glass from earlier. He finishes off what was in it, then resumes holding Jungkook’s hand. He falls into a comfortable conversation with Taehyung about his little cousins while they wait for more guests.

Everyone else arrives in the next ten minutes. Jungkook introduces Yoongi to his work friends, not for the first time, but definitely the first while mostly sober. Yoongi does his best to mingle, especially with people’s partners around. Even Seokjin’s girlfriend makes an appearance. Yoongi only gets as far as small talk before he has to move onto the next person or couple. Even though he’s not technically the host, he still does feel somewhat obligated to talk to everyone.

He sits quietly and observes while they eat dinner. Everyone’s spread between the dining table and the living room floor, but they manage to make everyone fit. Jungkook is by his side, but he’s more talkative than usual, which makes sense once Yoongi catches the whiff of soju on his breath. Yoongi sticks to his whiskey, then cuts himself off after a second glass.

After a while, the apartment gets noisy and stuffy. Yoongi’s throat is closing on him, and it feels like everyone is overshadowing him. It’s—too much, so Yoongi slips away to his bedroom with a bottle of soju for himself.

He sits near his window and leaves it open, lighting a cigarette as he leans his head out. They’re quite high up, even for a less-expensive apartment in their neighborhood. He looks down and sighs out the smoke.

He isn’t alone for long—of course someone would notice him missing. There’s a light knock on the door, unmistakably Jungkook. It opens, slowly, the chaotic sounds of the party suddenly leaking into the room. Yoongi doesn’t bother turning towards him and puts his cigarette between his lips again, breathing in. He exhales it in a quick puff, not turning his head even when Jungkook sits on his knees beside him.

“You’re hiding,” Jungkook whispers into the night. “Why?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Yoongi admits, taking another hit. “I feel stupid in there. Out of my depth. I’m not built for this.”

Jungkook leans his shoulders against the window sill, the wind blowing through his hair roughly before it settles again. “You’re saying it like everyone’s born with the ability to be social,” Jungkook says and taps lightly on Yoongi’s hand before taking his cigarette. Yoongi watches carefully, the stick resting between Jungkook’s fingertips for a moment, before he crushes it in the ashtray like usual. “It’s a learned trait.”

“I have—“

“Yes, hyung, I know,” Jungkook says gently, as if he’s the older one, cautioning Yoongi with a hand on his shoulder. Yoongi can’t help but lean into it, feeling weak and overtaken. “But I’ve seen you deal with it in better ways than this. I mean, come on. You’re thirty-years-old and you’re hiding in your bedroom like a teenager while your parents have friends over.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Why are you acting like your diagnosis is suddenly bigger than you?”

Yoongi laughs, humorlessly. “Because it is?” He reaches for another cigarette, knowing full well that Jungkook would grab his hand instead. His palm sits limply in Jungkook’s, lifeless and aching. “That’s the whole thing, Jungkook. Social anxiety doesn’t just go away on command.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

“Jungkook-ah.”

“Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi sighs in resignation, giving into the urge to lean against Jungkook. He rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder, settling against his chest, sighing again as his body relaxes into his arms. Jungkook runs one hand down his back, from his shoulder to his hip bone, then squeezes Yoongi tight. He presses his face to the top of Yoongi’s head, soft lips brushing his skin.

“Hyung, you’re stronger than you make yourself out to be.”

“Funny you say that. I feel like the weakest person right now.”

Yoongi sighs and shifts in Jungkook’s arms, curling up to be even smaller. “I know I’m not,” he whispers against Jungkook’s ear, stomach fluttering. He waits to feel the rhythm of Jungkook’s heart beating against his arm. “I know I’ve been in this position countless other times. I know that I typically have a strong mentality and I give decent advice to you and our friends, but… I still crumble at simple things like ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ and ‘how is your family.’”

Jungkook sighs, and he’s smiling when Yoongi looks over at his face again. His teeth shine in the city lights, as do his skin and eyes—and everything about Jungkook shines, really, regardless of the world around him. Jungkook is his own light in every sense, illuminating his own path, his self, and the people around him. Yoongi is silently grateful, and knows how lucky he is to have Jungkook in his life.

“Then talk about what doesn’t make you crumble,” Jungkook says and pulls away, steadying Yoongi with a hand on his back. “There are so many things about you that deserve their own storybook. You’re interesting, hyung. Your life experiences, your thoughts, your opinions. As long as someone’s listening, then share them.”

“It’s not that easy, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook stands and sticks out his hand. “Never said it was,” he says, and Yoongi pulls himself up with Jungkook’s help, “but you’re not alone in this either.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi blurts out, and blushes a little with how suddenly it stumbled out of his mouth. “I don’t say that enough. Thank you.”

Red greets Jungkook’s face and ears, and he turns away abruptly, dragging Yoongi behind him without responding. Yoongi grins to himself, still reluctantly following Jungkook into the party again.

Hoseok is quick to usher them to the dining table for cake cutting. Jungkook holds the knife in his right hand, then guides Yoongi’s to rest over it. Yoongi grips Jungkook’s hand and the knife, carving a careful slice in the cake that Namjoon bought for them. He puts the slice on a plate and habitually hands it to Jungkook first, taking the knife to cut the rest.

“Hyung, open,” Jungkook says, somewhere on Yoongi’s left. Yoongi doesn’t look up, putting another slice of cake into a paper plate with a plastic fork. “Yoongi-hyung, open your mouth.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow but obeys, lifting his head before slightly parting his lips. He closes his mouth around the fork that’s shoved inside, gripping the handle and using his teeth to scrape the bite off. Vanilla cake and frosting sits on his tongue, sugary and cold from the cake being in the refrigerator all evening. He passes the fork back to Jungkook and cuts another slice.

Jungkook feeds him a couple more bites, then wraps his arms around Yoongi from behind, holding him to his chest. Yoongi lets him stay there, his body keeping him extra warm, until he’s run out of cake to serve. He turns in Jungkook’s arms to face him, leaning back against the dining table.

“Be honest,” Yoongi says as Jungkook smiles, lazy and drunk. “How much did you have?”

“Not too much,” Jungkook answers and leans his weight in Yoongi even more. His body heat sends a chill over Yoongi’s spine. They’re never usually this close, maybe aside from the occasional tickle war. “Hm… Maybe I had a few shots of soju.”

Yoongi gulps at the proximity of Jungkook’s face, and nods slowly, trying to find a place to put his hands. Jungkook notices his troubles, mumbles about trusting him, then guides Yoongi’s hands to rest on his waist. “This okay?” Jungkook asks under his breath. “Jinsun-ssi is watching.”

“Should I do something else?” Yoongi whispers, trying to relax and be natural, but with the knowledge of someone watching, all he wants to do is run away.

“I’m gonna kiss your cheek,” Jungkook says, voice still low, leaning closer. His mouth brushes over Yoongi’s cheek, then leans close to his ear. Yoongi’s heart races, for some reason. “Put your hands on my arms and laugh quietly.”

Yoongi clumsily places his hands on Jungkook’s biceps and forces a small chuckle. Jungkook’s nose brushes against his cheek, and it feels so intimate, a complete opposite of the kind of physical relationship he has with Jungkook. On a good day, Yoongi will let Jungkook cuddle him, but that’s about it.

The party dies down by ten, only Jungkook’s friends and Seokjin’s girlfriend remaining as real guests. Namjoon and Hoseok both went home already. By the looks of it, Seokjin and his girlfriend are about to leave too. Yoongi waves, with Jungkook sitting close to him on the couch. He waits for the departure of Jungkook’s work friends, then starts to get up.

“Help me,” Jungkook slurs, holding out his hands for Yoongi to take. “I’m really drunk now.”

“Jesus, you’re heavy,” Yoongi says as he hauls Jungkook off the couch with both hands clutching his forearms. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

They make the short trek to Jungkook’s bedroom, once they realize that Taehyung and Jimin are in Yoongi’s room, tucked into each other and fast asleep. Jungkook is humming, flopping onto his bed with an adorable pout on his lips. Yoongi takes out some of Jungkook’s pajamas and sets them on the bed.

Jungkook unbuttons his shirt and pushes it off, leaving it over the back of his desk chair. He lifts his hips to take off his jeans, raising his arms to get rid of the tank top. Yoongi briefly returns to his room to get dressed for bed, washes up in the bathroom, then joins Jungkook under the blanket of his bed.

“Cuddle me please,” Jungkook mumbles, and Yoongi sighs. Jungkook sneaks closer, arms slipping around his body, pulling them close together. “Goodnight Yoongi-hyung.” He yawns, warm on Yoongi’s face. “You did well.”

“You did well too,” Yoongi mumbles, patting the top of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook nudges his head closer, halfway to sleep. “Sleep well, Jungkookie.”

++

Strangely enough, there’s still more to do after the success of the engagement party. It does somewhat help the social aspects of Yoongi’s work life—his coworkers ask him questions about his weekend, about how his fiancé is doing. They ask about wedding planning, and Yoongi manages to lie and say they’re putting it off. He’s not sure how much longer he has to pretend to be Jungkook’s fiancé.

The week following the party is a strange balance of work and socializing. On Thursday, Yoongi takes Jungkook to their department dinner again, and it’s much better than the first time. They’re holding hands, bumping shoulders—talking about their friends to Yoongi’s coworkers, to Director Hong. Sharing anecdotes they’ve had together, because they’re best friends, and it simply works out that way.

Monday, the week after, is significantly less energetic. Yoongi is in his office, working through his lunch break, looking over files of complaints. His stomach makes a noise of protest, and Yoongi scowls down at it, twirling his pen in his hand. He was running late and couldn’t have breakfast—Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, which is odd, because he works closer to home.

He doesn’t know why he did, but when Lee Chohee and Choi Soohyun invited him to go out for lunch, he declined. I have too much work, Yoongi told them, and no one pushed him into joining, because he’s their boss, but now he’s going hungry in his office alone, unsure if he’ll have enough time to eat if he leaves now.

In short, Yoongi feels miserable.

He leans back in his desk chair and spins, lips pressed together. He lets his eyes shut, stifling a yawn, then reopens his eyes. There’s some sunlight peeking through his mostly shut blinds, cuts of golden falling over Yoongi and his desk. It’s always too overbearing to open them completely, especially not so early in the morning. The nine-to-five lifestyle is not Yoongi’s friend.

A familiar knock on the door makes Yoongi swivel back around in his chair. He stands, smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt and pulls the door open slowly.

In front of him, surprisingly enough, is Jungkook. Only he’s dressed down in a much too big gray hoodie, and similarly colored cargo pants—and those hideous black combat boots that Yoongi despises. He’s wearing an innocent expression on his face, and his lip ring, his hair shoved under a navy baseball cap. Suspiciously, he’s also clutching something behind his back.

“Hungry?” Jungkook asks, holding up a reusable grocery bag. He smiles, and it might just be the best thing Yoongi’s seen all day.

“How did you know?” Yoongi asks after letting Jungkook in, watching him unpack the food onto his desk. He sits at his desk chair and pries open one of the reusable containers, homemade bibimbap steaming up at him.

“Wait, wait,” Jungkook says without answering Yoongi’s question, a determined frown on his face as he opens a different box, laying a cooked fried egg on top of the rice. He puts a disposable spoon in Yoongi’s hand and gives him two thumbs up. “Okay, now you can mix.”

Yoongi takes his first bite, rubbing his stomach when the warmth enters his belly. “You made this,” he says with his mouthful, watching as Jungkook assembles his own box. Jungkook only nods and takes his first bite too, sighing and dropping his back against the chair across from Yoongi’s desk. “Jungkook.”

“Hyung. Respectfully, please shut up and eat,” Jungkook says. Yoongi sighs and nods.

He takes his time eating while Jungkook practically inhales his serving, then sits with his knees pressed together and hands folded in his lap. Yoongi finishes a few minutes after him, carefully returning the empty containers into the bag. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, takes a few gulps of water, then checks his watch—there’s still ten minutes left on his lunch break.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi finally has the chance to ask, watching Jungkook’s knee bounce and eyes dart around Yoongi’s rather bland looking office. “Hey, Jungkookie, hyung’s not mad or anything. I just wanna know why you showed up out of the blue like this. You work in the opposite direction of our apartment.”

“Oh, I took some time off of work. Just today and tomorrow,” Jungkook says, and settles in the chair. He takes off his cap, short hair falling out, before placing it back over his hair. “I should have texted first, I know. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi leans his cheek in his palm. “Did you make that dish yourself?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and forming a teasing smile.

“I just, um, happened to have extra. You know,” Jungkook murmurs and crosses his arms, pouting a little. “Whatever.”

“I enjoyed it, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi laughs, wondering what has Jungkook so pent up and nervous. “Thank you. I would have forgotten to eat something sufficient if you didn’t show up.”

Jungkook smiles again, bigger and brighter than before. He’s pleased by the praise, Yoongi knows—Jungkook has always been an actions over words person. Yoongi figures that maybe Jungkook was bored and came to see him, or maybe Jungkook didn’t want to have lunch alone, or something along those lines. Yoongi forms a smile back and reaches over his desk, flicking the visor of his cap.

“I should go,” Jungkook mutters and stands, blushing. He picks up the bag again, holding it behind his back and lingering in front of the desk. “Do I bow or something?”

“I hate you,” Yoongi says and laughs, shaking his head. He stands and tugs in his suit jacket, nodding his head towards the door. “I’ll see you out. I still have a few minutes before I have to get back to work.”

Jungkook just feebly nods and Yoongi opens the door, shutting it once Jungkook steps outside. He stays close, shoulder pressed against Yoongi’s as they walk across the floor to the elevators. Yoongi presses the down button and looks up at Jungkook standing in front of him, wiping some food still on his cheek with his thumb. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, face steadily going red, chin tucked into his chest.

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks when they’re alone in the elevator, the numbers slowly decreasing as they head to the lobby floor. “You’re being all shy with me. I haven’t seen you this unresponsive since we met. Because literally the next day you were talking my ear off.”

“Sorry. Just thinking,” Jungkook answers and shrugs, kicking his shoes lightly into the metal floor. “I don’t know. I feel weird. I didn’t see you this morning before you left because I slept in and it threw off my day. Guess that’s why I’m here—to see you. The food was just an excuse.”

Yoongi smiles a little wider and pokes Jungkook’s ribs, watching him roll his eyes and smile too. “Hey. You can always text me or call me. I have more free time than you think. Sometimes I’m just in my office and watching cat videos to pass the time.”

“I had a bad day yesterday,” Jungkook blurts, then covers his mouth with his hand after.

“But your parents came up to visit you this weekend, didn’t they?” Yoongi steps out of the elevator, holding it open for Jungkook. He’s pressed for time, there’s a meeting soon, but he wants to hear what Jungkook has to say first. They move off to the side, out of the way of the employees who went out of the office for lunch. “You were excited. You came home pretty happy on Saturday night.”

Jungkook shrugs and rolls out his shoulders, staring at the ground after. “Saturday was fun. But I just—felt fucking awful yesterday, and I don’t know," he mumbles the last part, shaking his head. Yoongi steps closer to be able to hear him better. “I don’t understand what it is.”

“That’s okay. I know you like to know everything, but… it’s okay to not understand,” Yoongi says, and squeezes Jungkook’s elbow in an attempt to be comforting. “Go home. Take a nap. Maybe watch some TV. I’ll pick up some food and we can spend the evening together?”

“Yes. Please," Jungkook says with a rapid nod. “Thank you.”

Yoongi nods and starts to leave when Jungkook curls his fingers into the front of his suit jacket. Yoongi glances up at him, trying to pull the fabric out, but Jungkook keeps a steady grip, similar to a newborn baby’s. Jungkook pouts and pulls Yoongi closer. Sighing, Yoongi slings his arms around Jungkook’s neck and pulls him into a hug. Jungkook’s body relaxes against him, hands loosely on his waist, chin over his shoulder.

“I have to go now,” Yoongi says as he pulls away, sliding his hands across Jungkook’s shoulders, watching Jungkook adjust his cap nervously after. “Text me if you get bored.”

“I will. Bye hyung.”

Yoongi waves one last time before returning to the elevator, waiting silently with his arms crossed.

He contemplates whether or not Jungkook was being completely honest with him. He wonders if Jungkook was just afraid of sharing what’s really bothering him. Yoongi understands the way Jungkook’s brain works—he’s hesitant at first, likes to chew his thoughts and keep them bottled up, but when it gets too overwhelming, he finally opens up. Yoongi makes a note to pick up jjajangmyeon and ice cream on the way back from work.

The rest of the work day feels slower than usual. Yoongi checks his watch almost incessantly, impatiently waiting for the time to hit five o’clock. Jungkook doesn’t text him—but Yoongi knows that Jungkook doesn’t want to appear as a burden to Yoongi on top of the stress from work. That’s never the case, but Yoongi understands. They’re similar, in that way. Yoongi likes to bottle up his emotions too.

Yoongi’s coworkers give him suspicious looks when he’s one of the first people to cross the floor with his bag. Yoongi tends to overwork himself to the bone, trying to cram so he’ll have less work the following day. There are times where Yoongi will open his work laptop at home, even if all his friends tell him that’s unhealthy. Yoongi knows he’s a workaholic of sorts—but he would never admit that out loud.

As promised, Yoongi picks up food for himself and Jungkook, and Jungkook’s favorite ice cream on the way home. The apartment is quiet when Yoongi gets home, which is odd. He’s used to Jungkook playing music on the speakers or being sprawled out on the couch watching TV or scrolling through his phone. But this silence—it’s almost eerie.

Yoongi leaves the food on the kitchen table and stashes the ice cream in the freezer, shuffling over to his bedroom. He changes out of his work clothes first, hanging his suit back in his closet and tossing his shirt in the laundry bin. He makes a pit stop at the bathroom to wash his face and loosen up his hair, then continues on to Jungkook’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. He knocks, but there’s no answer.

“Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi calls, twisting the knob of his bedroom door.

“Don’t come in,” Jungkook says. He sounds tired, his voice too throaty and nasally for him to be okay. Yoongi doesn’t listen—in fact, he opens the door even faster.

At first, Yoongi doesn’t even see Jungkook. He looks around the room, holding the door knob, only spotting his eyes peeking out past his white bed covers, black hair in a disarray. Somehow, he looks more exhausted than he did when he came by Yoongi’s office earlier, skin pale and eyes blinking slowly.

Jungkook lowers the covers to his chin, fingers gripping them tight, and says, “I said to not come in.” He pauses. “What if I was naked?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Yoongi teases, getting the expected eye roll from Jungkook in response. He walks over and sits on the corner of Jungkook’s bed, pressing his hand to his forehead and cheeks. “Are you running a fever?”

“Uh, no?”

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Yoongi mumbles and tells Jungkook to wait, leaving for a minute to get the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. He brings it back to Jungkook’s room and sits again, putting the stick beneath his tongue. He holds it there, waiting for it to beep and— “You have a fever.”

Jungkook widens his eyes and snatches the thermometer from Yoongi to look. “Barely! It’s only 37.8 degrees,” he says, and it doesn’t help his case when he coughs right after. “I’m fine.”

“Stop lying,” Yoongi says and stands again, taking the thermometer back. He rinses it in the bathroom sink before putting it away.

Yoongi puts the noodles in the fridge and instead heats up canned soup on the stove, playing some calming music on their speakers since Jungkook isn’t using them. He watches Jungkook waddle into the living room, blanket tight around his body, bare toes curling into themselves. He drops onto the couch and stretches out, making himself comfortable.

Frowning, Yoongi returns to Jungkook’s bedroom and gets him a pair of (strangely, coca-cola themed) socks, sitting on his knees beside the couch. He pushes the blanket to his ankles and puts the clean socks on his feet silently, then checks on the soup in the kitchen.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says weakly when Yoongi sits on the floor again, this time with a bowl of soup and beside his head. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“If I don’t, who will?” Yoongi grumbles in response, shaking his head. “You big baby.”

“Yah. Hyung.”

“It’s true,” Yoongi says as he gives Jungkook a spoonful of soup. “Isn’t this why you still live with me?”

For a second, Jungkook’s face falls a little. “Are you saying you want to kick me out?”

“What? No,” Yoongi scoffs and feeds Jungkook more soup. “Stop twisting my words. I just meant that you are a little reliant on me for things.”

“I am not.”

“You would forget to eat if I didn’t tell you to.”

“That literally applies to you too.”

“Drink the damn soup,” Yoongi demands instead of finding a suitable comeback, bringing the spoon to Jungkook’s lips.

They sit in silence the rest of the time Yoongi feeds Jungkook, until the bowl is completely empty. Jungkook sits up and leans against the couch armrest, bleary eyes and flushed skin. Yoongi sighs and sets the bowl on the coffee table, gently brushing Jungkook’s hair out of his face. Jungkook cracks a smile.

“Did anyone—” Jungkook clears his throat. "Did anyone ask you about me bringing you food?"

“Uh, no?” Yoongi lifts his eyebrow and sits on the other side of the couch, sliding under Jungkook’s blanket with his legs against his chest. “Why?”

“I thought a cute, romantic-type gesture like that would get people talking to you.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Yoongi laughs again and shakes his head. “You know, I’m realizing that you would make a good actual boyfriend. I’m surprised you’re not in a real relationship with anyone.”

Jungkook shrugs and pushes his hair out of his face. “Well, I tried the relationship thing and got my heart broken both times,” he says, and for some reason, that makes Yoongi’s own heart ache. He knows that Jungkook’s exes haven’t been exactly kind—hell, his own exes weren’t. For some reason, thinking of Jungkook’s heartbreak feels worse than remembering his own. “It does suck, sometimes. But I have you, don’t I?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “What if I get into a real relationship?” he asks, although he doesn’t have any intention to do so.

“Not while you’re working where you do,” Jungkook says and laughs, then sighs loudly.

Jungkook rests his head on the back of the couch, staring off at the wall. Yoongi leaves for a moment to get him some medicine to help the fever go down, setting the bottle on the table with water, then sits on the couch again.

After a minute, Jungkook shifts his head and looks at Yoongi through his tired eyes. “Hyung,” he murmurs, “what if we have to have a fake wedding? And then have to get a fake divorce?”

Amused, Yoongi laughs and touches the back of his neck. “We can stage a breakup?” he asks, and Jungkook shrugs. “What?”

“How would we do that?”

“Actually, I was thinking about it this past weekend,” Yoongi answers and finds his phone in his pocket, scrolling through his email inbox. He passes his phone to Jungkook, who squints and adjusts the brightness, lips moving as he silently reads the email. He looks up and tilts his head to the side, clearly confused. “If you come with me to the company dinner, then we can stage a fight and you can be all dramatic, I don’t know.”

Jungkook scrunches up his nose. “What if you don’t get the promotion by then?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his head. “Uh... Didn’t think about that. It’s just an idea, anyway. But do tell me if you want to be my plus one because I have to buy tickets before Friday.”

“I’ll go. How much is it per person?”

Yoongi takes back his phone and scrolls through the email a little more, stopping when he spots the price. “One hundred thousand won?”

“Okay… I guess that’s not bad.”

“Uh… It says the cost covers food.”

Jungkook nods his head and shuts his eyes. “I’ll send you the money,” he murmurs and yawns, curling up into the couch. He rests his head against one of the pillows, hugging himself and getting comfortable. Yoongi lowers his phone from his face, smiling as Jungkook falls asleep right before his eyes.

++

Yoongi leans back against a tree, hand flapping lifelessly in Jungkook’s direction, trying to catch his breath. Jungkook got over his sudden fever in a day, and now it’s Saturday morning. He decided it would be “good for hyung” to work out in the park with him. However, Yoongi is not cut out for this. He does not work out on a regular basis. His body can’t handle the intensity that Jungkook works out with.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighs, sounding disappointed. He shoves a cold bottle of water in Yoongi’s hand. “Drink. Come on.”

“Why did you drag me outside?” Yoongi whines, pouting as he plants himself onto a bench, chugging the water. It chills him from the inside, but does nothing for the sticky sweat dampening his skin. “It’s Saturday morning. It’s too early to do this.”

Jungkook sighs again, kneeling in front of Yoongi. His hair is pushed back by a headband, face and arms dripping with sweat. He seems less bothered than Yoongi, maybe mildly annoyed. “I just thought you should get out more,” he says, pinching Yoongi’s bare thigh. Yoongi smacks his hand away and wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand. “You should keep good health, hyung.”

Yoongi flings his leg out to kick Jungkook in the shin. “That does not,” he gasps for breath, “that does not mean making me do your routine. I don’t have the endurance for that! Do you see my body?” He gestures broadly to his chest and legs.

“Yes, hyung, I can see that you’re built like a middle school boy who avoids the sun like the plague.”

“Yah!” Yoongi hits Jungkook’s arm with the water bottle, watching him fall back and descend into a fit of laughter. “Do you have a death wish, Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook yells when Yoongi lunges at him, fully intent on tickling his sides. He manages to stick his fingers against Jungkook’s ribs, but not for long, considering Jungkook picks him up like a sack of potatoes. It really shouldn’t be so easy for Jungkook to carry him like this. Yoongi gives up, hanging over Jumgkook’s shoulder with blood rushing to both his head and fingertips.

“Why do you hate me?” Yoongi asks, twisting his body in an attempt to get down. Jungkook’s gripping him too firmly, arm wrapped around his thighs. “Let go of me. Jungkook-ah.”

“Should I get coffee?” Jungkook asks, although it sounds more like he’s thinking aloud. Yoongi squirms again, pulling at the wet fabric of Jungkook’s tank top. Such a brat, Yoongi thinks when Jungkook continues walking without putting Yoongi down. His vision is starting to go blurry, feet and legs numbing. “Hm…”

“What are you getting out of causing a scene?” Yoongi feels the hold on him loosen. He slides back slowly, bracing himself on Jungkook’s shoulders until his feet touch the ground. He punches Jungkook’s arm, eyeing his shit-eating grin. “You are a menace. To society. And me. How dare you consider getting coffee without me?”

Jungkook turns Yoongi’s body to face forward, throwing his arm over his shoulders, back to walking out of the park. “Hyung, you are somehow the most chill and the most dramatic person I have ever met,” he says, giggling. Yoongi rolls his eyes, both honored and offended. He’s not that dramatic. Most of the time, he over-exaggerates to make Jungkook smile or laugh. “We can pick up coffee on the way home. I’ll treat you. Is that good enough for you, fake-fiancé?”

“Works for—”

“Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi’s shoulders tense. Why does he know that voice? He pulls Jungkook to a stop, glancing around, looking behind them. Never in his life has he wanted to run away more than now.

Yoon Jinsun has a baby in his arms, a little girl who seems to be only a few months old. There’s a stroller a few feet away too, although his wife is nowhere in sight. Yoongi’s instinct is to bolt. He is not interested in making idle conversation with Yoon Jinsun about anything.

Jungkook—bless him—speaks up first. “You’re Jinsoo, right?”

Jinsun narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “Jinsun, actually,” he says, plastering on a smile after. Yoongi grips the hem of Jungkook’s tank top, trying to tug him away, but his body mass is too sturdy. “I didn’t recall you as someone to go out on a Saturday, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi frowns. What is that supposed to mean?

“Oh, well, me and Jungkook wanted to spend some time together,” Yoongi says, forcing a smile onto his face too, gritting his teeth. Jungkook’s hand sits on the small of his back, thumb digging into his hip bone. Yoongi appreciates the effort to calm him, but it’s not working. He decides that making a conversion for a couple minutes might be better than running. “Taking your daughter for a morning walk?”

“She’s cute,” Jungkook adds, smiling sincerely at the small baby, her round eyes blinking up at the sunlight passing through the trees. “What’s her name?”

“Dasom.” Jinsun smiles wider—it’s the first time Yoongi has seen him be remotely genuine. He’s always mocking Yoongi for his lack of social skills, making uncalled-for comments, picking on little things like the way Yoongi dresses or acts around their coworkers. Jinsun lifts her towards Jungkook. “Would you like to hold her?”

Jungkook slowly removes his hand from Yoongi’s waist. “Can I?” he asks, but Yoongi grips his tank top tighter. Why is Jungkook acting so amiable with Yoongi’s mortal enemy? Jungkook steps forward—Yoongi lets his hand fall away, shoving them into the pockets of his shorts instead. “Ah… Hi little angel.”

Yoongi watches Jungkook cradle tiny Yoon Dasom in his arms. She giggles, reaching up to pull gently on his bottom lip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, smiling and laughing along, whispering to her in a quiet voice. Dasom babbles incoherently, laughing every time Jungkook tickles beneath her chin. Yoongi smiles at him fondly; Jungkook will make a great father one day.

Jungkook talks to Jinsun about his daughter for the next few minutes, smiling and nodding and carrying the sweet baby girl. Yoongi watches the baby, mostly, trying to ignore the irritation simmering in his gut for the way Jungkook is acting right now. He was only jokingly on Yoongi’s nerves when he was teasing about the working out thing, but now he’s really pissing Yoongi off.

Eventually (finally), Jungkook hands Dasom back to her father, then bows a little. Yoongi greets Jinsun too, albeit awkwardly, trailing after Jungkook as they walk away. He waits until they’ve walked a couple of minutes away. They’re at the edge of the park when Yoongi decides to speak up.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, not with anger, just calm disappointment. Jungkook turns his head, puzzled. “You know how much I don’t like him, Jungkook-ah.”

“But… there’s nothing wrong with being nice.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond. He walks ahead of Jungkook, thinking of what else he’ll do today in order to distract himself.

Jungkook doesn’t let it go, though. He jogs to catch up with Yoongi, walking backwards in front of him, nearly tripping over his feet. “You can’t honestly be upset about this,” he says, but Yoongi ignores him. “Hyung, seriously. I know you’re not that cold hearted.”

When Yoongi still doesn’t answer, Jungkook turns around and falls into step with him again. “Fine,” Jungkook says, arms crossed. “If you want to act childish, then fine. Do you still want coffee?” He pauses, waits, then laughs. “Of course you do.”

They stop for coffee, but Yoongi still doesn’t utter so much as a syllable to Jungkook. He knows it’s childish, just as Jungkook said, but he’s complained to Jungkook about everything that Jinsun has put him through.

Whenever Yoongi is having a bad day, Jinsun always does something to make it worse. Whether it be a comment about his energy levels or his messy hair or simply a mistake he made in a report, Jinsun feels the need to comment on it. Jungkook knows this and still decided to be so friendly.

Yoongi immediately jumps into the shower when they get home. He drags it out to make Jungkook suffer, intentionally taking up his time with the hot water. Typically Yoongi takes short showers; quick, never more than ten minutes. Yoongi stays under the shower head for an extra five, takes time lathering lotion onto his entire body, gets dressed and dries his hair, then lets Jungkook have the bathroom.

“I hate when you get like this,” Jungkook grumbles as he shoves Yoongi’s shoulder on the way into the bathroom. He shuts the door and locks it, and Yoongi sighs sadly.

Obviously he doesn’t gain anything from ignoring Jungkook. It doesn’t particularly feel good either, so with that, Yoongi shuffles into the kitchen and looks in the freezer. They don’t have Jungkook’s favorite pork belly, but there’s some other meat that Yoongi could grill as an apology. The way to Jungkook’s heart will almost always be through food.

Yoongi preps the grill while he waits for Jungkook to finish showering, setting out the rice and side dishes and plates for them. He doesn’t start grilling the meat until the shower is off, careful with the heat, cutting the strips into pieces. Jungkook comes out of the bathroom humming, turning to face the kitchen. He steps closer, slowly, clearly following the smell of food. Yoongi watches his eyes light up.

“Sit,” Yoongi says, gesturing to the chair with his tongs. Jungkook complies, sliding into the seat, staring at the food with wide eyes. Yoongi picks up a couple of cooked pieces and lays them on Jungkook’s plate.

“It’s weird how well you know me,” Jungkook mutters, picking up his chopsticks, starting with the meat. “Thank you hyung.”

Yoongi shrugs it off. “I was hungry,” he says, despite the fact that Jungkook know him well too, enough to detect that he’s straight-up lying.

Jungkook smiles knowingly. “When is that company dinner you were telling me about?” he asks, taking another large bite.

“In a couple of weeks. At the end of the month.” Yoongi rotates his wrist before flipping over more pieces of meat. “What’re you doing the rest of today?”

“There’s some work I need to do.” Jungkook reaches for the kimchi with his chopsticks and drops the piece into his mouth. “Gonna try and catch up on that one drama… I don’t remember the name.”

“When do you ever?” Yoongi laughs, taking his seat to begin eating too. He double checks that he actually turned the grill to low heat before serving himself some. “I’ll watch with you.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “You always get bored and fall asleep.”

“I don’t have anything better to do today.”

“Just say you want to spend time with me, hyung. You sound less pathetic that way.”

Yoongi reaches across the table, stealing meat off Jungkook’s plate even though there’s a grill full of it. “Mine,” he says, shoving it in his mouth. Jungkook pouts until Yoongi refills his plate.

They finish eating in silence. Jungkook does most of the clean-up since Yoongi cooked for him, humming happily as he washes the dishes. All Yoongi really does is wipe the grease stains from the kitchen table, then flop onto the couch with a can of beer. He checks his phone, responding to a couple messages from his parents. Jungkook joins him on the couch with his laptop and glasses on, silently working.

Slowly, the day passes like that. Jungkook doesn’t get around to watching TV until late afternoon, and Yoongi does end up dozing off with his head against Jungkook’s shoulder. He wakes up whenever Jungkook shuffles or gets up for something, but always falls back asleep when he sits back down. Jungkook has always been a comfortable person to sleep against. His body is always warm, almost like a blanket.

Yoongi wakes up for good once the sun has set. His head is perched against Jungkook’s steadily rising and falling chest, all their limbs tangled together. Jungkook is fast asleep, lips slightly parted, a scowl on his face. Yoongi detaches himself carefully, freezing when Jungkook shifts. He stays asleep in the end, allowing Yoongi to get off the couch and put a fuzzy throw over him.

Jungkook lifts his hand and latches onto Yoongi’s, holding it to his chest. The rhythm of his heart is slow—he must still be asleep, despite holding on with a steel grip. Yoongi smiles anyway and brushes Jungkook’s hair out of his eyes. He traces the shape of his nose and over the moles on his cheeks, then jerks his hand back when Jungkook’s sniffs.

What is he doing? He never touches Jungkook like that.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, tugging on Yoongi’s hand. Jungkook is still sleeping, or at least, mostly sleeping. “Don’t… don’t you ever… leave.”

“Huh?”

“Never… leave me.”

Yoongi sighs and touches the top of Jungkook’s head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

++

“Is this too overboard?” Jungkook asks from the hallway, gesturing down to his outfit.

His outfit: black on black on black. Black button up, chest exposed because half the buttons are undone. Tight jeans, ripped at the thighs, very obviously squeezing the life out of Jungkook’s muscular body. Black combat boots—the same ugly, ratty, worn-out boots Jungkook has been wearing for as long as Yoongi has known him.

“Uh… the occasion?” Yoongi asks, taking a sip of his hot coffee. He, on the other hand, is dressed in black sweatpants and a gray hoodie for his Saturday night-in to do absolutely nothing. “I didn’t realize you were going out tonight.”

“Hoseok-hyung convinced me to go to a club with him. Anyway—thoughts?”

Yoongi scratches his cheek and says, “It’s definitely… different.”

Jungkook frowns and looks down at himself, obviously displeased by the answer. Yoongi leans against the kitchen door frame, cupping his mug between both hands, watching him. Jungkook turns in a circle and stops facing Yoongi again. This time, Yoongi notices that his face is glinting with shiny makeup and his lip ring has made its way back into its designated spot.

“Hyung, I know this is a weird question,” Jungkook says, entirely serious, and Yoongi simply raises his eyebrows. He has absolutely no guesses on where this could go—Jungkook’s weird questions tend to be completely out there by Yoongi’s standards. Jungkook takes a deep breath and gestures to himself again. “Be honest, hyung, if you didn’t already know me, would you sleep with me?”

Yoongi promptly chokes on his coffee, setting the mug on the kitchen table while he coughs through it. He holds himself up against the door frame, looking at Jungkook with his eyebrows raised even higher. Jungkook stares back, eyes widened and hands outstretched towards Yoongi. Yoongi puts his finger up, telling him to wait, clearing his throat a few times.

“Why the hell would you ask me that?” Yoongi asks, his face burning with embarrassment. He’s not going to answer that.

“Because!” Jungkook throws his hands in the air, frustrated. “I want to know if I look, you know, like someone—” He stops, groans, stomps his foot like a child. Yoongi picks up his coffee again, refusing to let himself react that way again if Jungkook says something similar. “I wanna get laid tonight, okay? So—does it look like someone would want me?”

Yoongi decides to brush past him and ignore it. “Ask someone else,” he says, and can feel Jungkook following him into his room. Yoongi sets his coffee on his nightstand, crossing his arms as he faces Jungkook again. Jungkook stands in the doorway, pouting and puppy-eyed. “Jungkook-ah, really, I’m not answering a question like that.”

“Okay, imagine—”

“No. No, okay, go away. Ask Jimin or something,” Yoongi says and makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands, but Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. “Jungkook, please, we’ve been over this. You’re like my brother. I can’t answer a question like that.”

Jungkook raises his middle finger at him, and rather immaturely, Yoongi sticks his tongue out back at him.

“You’re never any help,” Jungkook mutters as he leaves, slamming his bedroom door.

Yoongi jolts at the echo, shaking his head as he shuts his own door quietly. He sits criss-cross on his bed, laptop open in front of him, picking up his mug again. He can hear Jungkook’s footsteps through their shared wall, boots stomping against the floor, clearly a way to let out his ballooning frustration. Yoongi slides on his headphones and ignores him.

But his mind does… drift, back to Jungkook’s impinging question. Yoongi doesn’t know what to think of it, exactly. He can’t deny that Jungkook is objectively attractive. He has the face, the build, and the personality of a man that Yoongi would date.

But—but Jungkook is Yoongi’s best friend over anyone else, undoubtedly. He’s been with Yoongi through some of the worst, as Yoongi has been with Jungkook through his worst, too. Would they even be able to work together romantically, or even sexually?

Well, anyway. Yoongi burns the thought and continues to ignore it.

He stays in bed for a while, until the basketball game is over—by then, it’s already well past midnight. Yoongi gathers himself long enough to wash his coffee mug and get ready for bed, folding his glasses to place on the nightstand. He lies in bed, facing the window, holding his phone in one hand. He’s on the verge—on the very brink of falling asleep—when Jungkook’s drunk texts jolt him back to consciousness.

Jeon Jungkook: hyuunngh

Jeon Jungkook: in had to smich

Jeon Jungkook: Hobihyung lef t me for some girl

Min Yoongi: Jungkook-ah are you safe?

Jeon Jungkook: Hyung

Jeon Jungkook: I miss you

Min Yoongi: Can you tell me where you are please

Min Yoongi: Hoseok left???

Jeon Jungkook: Yesaas he said to get taxi!!!

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and sits up in bed. How much of an idiot is Hoseok for leaving Jungkook alone, of all people? He’ll definitely be giving Hoseok an earful tomorrow morning.

Jeon Jungkook: Thered no taixis

Jeon Jungkook: Wheres hyungs car

Jeon Jungkook: Hyuuuubg i miss youuuuu~

Yoongi sighs and calls Jungkook as he gets out of bed, putting on his glasses. The line connects almost immediately, and it seems like Jungkook is more drunk than he seemed over text.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, his voice coming through slurred and heavy, clearing his throat after. Yoongi switches which ear his phone is against and finds his shoes in the darkness, the same with his keys. “Yoongi-hyung.”

“Yeah, hyung is here Jungkookie,” Yoongi says tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he leaves their apartment. He presses the elevator button and crosses his arms. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. It’s cold,” Jungkook mumbles. Yoongi steps onto the elevator and crosses his arm over his stomach. “Where’s hyung?”

Yoongi covers his mouth when he yawns and steps into the parking garage. “Coming to get you, but you need to tell me where you are,” he says as he walks through the cold and dark garage, clutching his keys in one hand, phone against his ear with the other. He hears incoherent sounds from Jungkook as he sits in the driver’s seat of his car, mounting his phone in a holder while he starts it. “Jungkook-ah, can you send me your location?”

Jungkook hums and says, “Jungkookie can do that.”

Sure enough, a minute or so later, Yoongi gets the address of Jungkook’s location in their text messages. He backs out of his parking spot after mapping out the route, listening to Jungkook drunkenly babble to him through the phone, just trying to hold onto his patience until Jungkook is in his passenger seat.

Well, it isn’t Jungkook he’s really upset at—it’s more Hoseok, for being irresponsible with Jungkook, especially if it’s just the two of them out tonight. Yoongi’s seriously pissed at him for that.

It takes fifteen minutes for Yoongi to reach the neighborhood that Jungkook is in, and another two or so to find a legal parking spot. It’s a bit of a walk from where Jungkook is, but they’re still on the phone, so Yoongi isn’t too worried. He walks along the sidewalk, clutching his phone and keys, wary of the rather secluded alleys and pathways he crosses. Luckily Jungkook’s location is still on the main street.

Yoongi reaches the club and the outside is crowded, so he looks around for Jungkook. He can tell that Jungkook is too far gone with his alcohol to be of any help, so Yoongi relies on his intuition. If he were Jungkook, where would he go?

Somewhere quiet.

Yoongi breezes past the crowd and towards the edge of the three story building. The alley he finds is quiet and damp—empty, except for a few figures towards the end of it. There’s the dead end, and Yoongi can’t see much because it’s too dark. He lowers his phone from his ear and walks forward, using the screen to shine a light on the group of people. Two girls smoking, he finds, and Jungkook—curled up on the ground, his phone against his cheek, eyes half open, shivering.

Yoongi walks briskly past the two girls hovering over him, and kneels in front of Jungkook, touching his knee. “Hey. Jungkookie, it’s me. Hyung’s here,” he whispers softly, hanging up the call finally and pocketing his phone. He gets Jungkook to lift his head, smiling a little when they meet eyes. Jungkook blinks tiredly, slumped against the wall, eyes still barely open.

“Hyung,” Jungkook mumbles and sits up, throwing himself into Yoongi’s arms. Yoongi catches him, albeit with struggle, hoisting him to his feet. They stumble to the left, Yoongi hugging Jungkook’s waist with one arm, trying to find a balance. “Hyung’s here. ’m okay.”

“Yeah, you’re okay,” Yoongi agrees, taking slow and staggering steps with him towards the sidewalk again. “I need you to hold your weight a little more, you’re heavy.”

Jungkook grips Yoongi’s hoodie tightly, and Yoongi uses his other arm to keep Jungkook as upright as possible throughout the walk back to his car. He safely gets Jungkook into the passenger seat, gives himself a moment to recuperate and catch his breath, then sits in the driver’s seat. Jungkook takes his hand before he can even start the car.

“Jungkook, I need to drive,” Yoongi says, trying to take his hand off. But Jungkook’s whining, making noises of complaint, talking slurred words with a pout on his lips.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, and leans close—a bit too close, with Jungkook’s breath tickling Yoongi’s face, warm and beer-heavy. Yoongi wrinkles up his nose and tries to push Jungkook back, but he doesn’t budge. Yoongi tilts his head against the window and looks up at Jungkook’s eyes, pretty and wide, as they almost always are. His breathing fogs up Yoongi’s glasses. “Why can’t you like me?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow. “I do like you,” he says, confused—does it seem like he doesn’t like Jungkook sometimes? A friendship of six years; to Yoongi that’s a lot, and he knows that it’s a lot to Jungkook too. They’re both not the most expressive people in the world, or vocal, hence why Yoongi’s confused about the sudden question. “Jungkook, please back up.”

“Sorry.” Jungkook complies and sits back on the passenger side, suddenly taking off his boots and placing them meticulously on the floor of the backseat. Yoongi relaxes in his personal space and sits up again. “But hyung.”

“What, Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi huffs, not exactly irritated, just more tired than anything. He was about to fall asleep, anyway, when Jungkook texted him. He pulls off his glasses and rubs the lenses clean of Jungkook’s breath, then replaces them on his face. Jungkook shrinks into himself at Yoongi’s harsh tone, which Yoongi feels a little bad about, then lowers his chin.

"Nothing. Never mind," he says, and shakes his head. Yoongi decides to just drive home rather than question it.

The ride is quiet. Jungkook has his elbow on the armrest and head against the window, one leg folded beneath him. He’s fast asleep in no time, and Yoongi uses that opportunity to stop at a convenience store and pick up some hangover remedy for him. He wakes Jungkook up long enough to help him back up to their apartment after reaching home, and Jungkook falls face first onto Yoongi’s bed—which is no one but Yoongi’s fault for picking the room closer to the front door when they moved in.

Yoongi works around it. He and Jungkook work together in undressing him, easing the tight jeans off his legs, Yoongi unbuttoning the rest of his shirt to push it off his shoulders. He helps Jungkook into his pajamas, tucking the blanket over his shoulders after he curls up to actually fall asleep. Yoongi sighs and face-plants into the spot next to him, exhausted. The things he does for Jungkook—he falls asleep before he can finish his thought.

When morning comes, Jungkook’s arms are tight around Yoongi’s torso, and he’s still fast asleep. Yoongi turns in his arms, studying his sleeping face—lips parted, breathing fanning against Yoongi’s cheek. He wedges his way out of Jungkook’s strong grip, letting him hug a pillow instead, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He has the beginnings of a migraine, and he wouldn’t if Jungkook and Hoseok were more responsible last night, but there’s no amount of irritation Yoongi can hold for Jungkook to let him sleep on the street alone, while drunk.

Yoongi washes up and snatches up his phone after, letting himself into the hallway outside the apartment to call Hoseok. He doesn’t even care if he hasn’t left wherever he went after ditching Jungkook last night—he’s pissed and ready to give Hoseok a piece of his mind.

“Hello?”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi says, crossing one arm, leaning against the wall beside the apartment door. Hoseok hums an affirmation that he’s listening. “Do you know where Jungkook is?”

“Um… Isn’t he home? He said he’d take a taxi back home because he missed you,” he says, and Yoongi frowns, because that isn’t exactly what Jungkook told him over text last night. “Why? Did he not make it home last night?"

"He did," Yoongi mutters and huffs a little. "Well, not by taxi. I had to pick him because he said you left him."

Hoseok is quiet in response. “He left me,” he says after a few seconds, and Yoongi rubs his forehead in frustration. Hoseok clears his throat and continues, “We went to the bathroom together and I started talking to someone on our way out. And when I turned around, Jungkook was gone. He sent me a text saying that he was going to get a ride home and to not worry about him. I don’t know, he was super off all night. I tried to cut him off when I saw him getting too reckless.”

Yoongi sighs—this is so unlike Jungkook. It’s concerning. “Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok says, and sighs too. “You should talk to him. I think Jungkook’s been bottling shit again.”

“Okay,” Yoongi replies and presses in the numbers for their door lock, pushing it open. “I’ll talk to him. Where are you?”

“I ended up going home,” Hoseok says and Yoongi nods, letting the door fall shut behind him. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Yoongi hums. “Thanks, Hoseok-ah,” he says—Hoseok only grunts and hangs up. Yoongi grabs a bottle of iced coffee after placing his phone on the kitchen table.

It bothers Yoongi how much Jungkook has closed himself off recently. The more he ponders over it, the more he realizes that it’s been going on for a while. Maybe since the fake engagement party. Jungkook had drunk quite a bit that night too, and he holds his alcohol well, but Yoongi knows what it looks like when he’s had too much. He was incoherent, couldn’t even stand straight; just a milder version of last night.

It’s worrisome—Jungkook is someone that Yoongi cherishes. When Jungkook is down, Yoongi can usually tell immediately. Perhaps Jungkook got better at hiding his feelings, or maybe Yoongi just hasn’t been paying enough attention to him. Either way—Yoongi feels bad for not picking up on it. He knows Jungkook clings to alcohol when he’s feeling down, he should have known better when Jungkook agreed to go out. Since when does Jungkook enjoy going out?

Yoongi pours his coffee into a glass with ice—why is Jungkook being so hesitant to open up?

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, walking into the kitchen barefoot and wrapped in a blanket. His eyes are barely open—Yoongi imagines he can’t even see well because he doesn’t have his glasses. He drops onto one of the kitchen table chairs, shivering while his toes curl. “It’s so cold.”

“You took off your socks while you slept,” Yoongi says, affectionately rubbing the top of Jungkook’s hair. “Let me get your slippers. You want breakfast?”

“Yes please,” Jungkook croaks and Yoongi gets his slippers from by the door, dropping them so Jungkook can wiggle his toes in. “My head’s killing me.”

Yoongi laughs and sets out the medicine he bought yesterday, then takes out some soup he cooked a few nights ago, but they never got around to actually eating. “I’m sure,” he says, pouring the liquid into a pot to reheat. “You’re drinking a lot lately, Jungkook-ah.”

“I’m in my head a lot lately,” Jungkook murmurs in response, slumping against the table. He turns his cheek against the surface and blinks up at Yoongi. “Do you ever feel like you’re not doing enough?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Constantly,” he says, stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. “I mean, I’ve been aiming for the promotion for what? Almost three months now? I feel like the reason Director Hong hasn’t picked who to promote is because I’m not doing my job well enough.”

Jungkook sighs—it sounds like he’s talking about something different. Maybe something in his personal life that Yoongi doesn’t know about. He’ll pry, just a little, if it gets Jungkook talking about it. He doesn’t even care for the details if Jungkook isn’t willing to share them—but Jungkook shouldn’t keep his thoughts inside.

“So, what is it, then?” Yoongi asks and pours the soup into a bowl, placing it in front of Jungkook’s face. He sets a spoon beside it and sits across from him at the table. “You like someone, is that it? Is it like—what you do won’t get the attention of the person you like?”

Jungkook laughs—scoffs, really. He slurps up the soup and ditches the spoon, lifting the bowl to his mouth. He takes a few sips that way then sets the bowl down again. Yoongi reaches out to adjust the blanket on his shoulders, then nods at him encouragingly.

“You’re right, actually,” Jungkook says after having a few more sips. He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “It feels pointless. But, I’m not ready to tell them about how I feel.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Don’t force yourself to be ready, okay?” He takes a sip of his now diluted coffee. It tastes more bitter than usual. “Take your time to sort out your feelings. You don’t owe them a confession. But once you figure it out, you should tell them. It’ll be good for you.”

Jungkook makes a face. “Even if they don’t like me back?”

“Anyone’d be stupid to not like you back,” Yoongi says honestly, patting the top of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook smiles weakly, not quite reaching his eyes. “But yeah, even if they don’t. You deserve to voice your feelings.”

“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook says, looking down at his bowl. “I’ll try that.”

++

“Jungkook-ah, are you ready?” Yoongi asks through the bathroom door, knocking on it lightly.

“Uh, yeah, just a sec,” Jungkook calls back and makes a huffing noise. Yoongi steps back from the door and crosses his arms, waiting a mere five seconds before the door swings open. “Sorry. Hair was not cooperating. How do I look?”

Yet again, Yoongi is struck by Jungkook’s beauty. He’s dressed up well, the same way he does when they run their fake proposal scams. It’s the same suit, at least. The shirt is new, bright white and crisp, buttoned all the way to the collar. His suit fits his frame well, a nice belt too—and of course, his pizza socks. Yoongi snickers a little and looks back up at Jungkook’s face.

“Good,” Yoongi manages to say in response, shooting him a thumbs up.

“Don’t worry, I have shoes to cover those,” Jungkook says with a laugh, slipping past Yoongi to go into his bedroom. Yoongi grabs his shoes from the closet in the hallway, sitting on the couch to put them on. Jungkook joins him, cradling a shoe box between his palms.

Yoongi frowns a little, leaning down to tie his laces. “Did you get new shoes?” The box is unfamiliar.

Jungkook nods. “Ta-da,” he says, flipping the lid to reveal dress shoes—actual nice, black and shiny dress shoes. Yoongi sits up after tying his other shoe and picks up one of Jungkook’s, the new leather shoe smell clinging to them. “I thought the occasion called for a pair. Plus I can’t find my boots anywhere, I can’t seem to remember what I did with them.”

“You’re really going all in, huh?” Yoongi murmurs, letting Jungkook take the shoe back. He watches in a daze as Jungkook slides them over the heels of his feet, tying the laces quickly.

Jungkook stands and brushes off his clothes, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything. He holds out his hand for Yoongi to take, and Yoongi grabs it, pulling himself to his feet too. He feels considerably smaller and shorter next to Jungkook today. It’s not fair, he thinks, when he’s the older one.

“Okay, I’m ready. Do you want me to drive?” Jungkook asks, offering his hand for Yoongi’s keys.

Unopposed, Yoongi drops them into his palm and says, “Just don’t crash my car.”

Jungkook nods and grins, pocketing the keys as he walks past Yoongi. Yoongi shuts the lights, makes sure he has his ring—then joins Jungkook by the door. They both double check they have what they need—wallets, phones, keys, chapstick, (Yoongi’s cigarettes and lighter); the works. Once Jungkook deems them prepared, he takes Yoongi by the hand and drags him out to the elevator.

The ride over to the venue is strangely silent. Yoongi’s nervous—more than he would normally be, because Director Hong informed him and Yoon Jinsun separately that he would be choosing who would get the promotion, and he would announce the person tonight. So, Yoongi’s pretty in his head about this whole company dinner thing. He’s not looking forward to it. He’s just glad Jungkook’s with him.

Jungkook is oddly quiet too. He rarely ever offers to drive, yet he offered to do so tonight. Yoongi worries that his negative energy is rubbing off on him. Or maybe that Jungkook can tell that Yoongi’s nervous and he’s being quiet to try and soothe Yoongi in a way. Yoongi is grateful—so, so grateful that Jungkook is with him. If he weren’t, then Yoongi would probably text him the whole time, then leave early because he got so bored being alone.

They drop the car off at the valet. Yoongi watches Jungkook’s back go stiff when his hand skims over it, leaning forward a little to get a glance at his face. “You okay?” he asks and Jungkook nods his head a little, pulling at the collar of his shirt like it’s too tight on him.

Yoongi simply nods back and gestures for Jungkook to go first, only dropping his hand when they’re inside the venue. It’s a little crowded, quiet chatter—everyone’s dressed up in suits and gowns. It’s a fancy event, after all.

“I need a drink,” Jungkook suddenly breathes out, but Yoongi snags his wrist before he can make his escape to the open bar.

“Come on,” Yoongi says, pulling him in the opposite direction instead. Their fingers slide together with ease. “Let’s go find the two people who I work with that actually like me a little bit. I think we’re seated with them. And Jinsun-ssi too, but that was inevitable. Director Hong should be at a separate table.”

Jungkook follows him like a puppy, gripping Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi flags down their table and actually manages to form a smile at Chohee and Soohyun when he spots them. He finally releases Jungkook’s hand, letting him exchange formalities with them before they take their seats. Yoongi wipes his palms on his pants and folds his hands in his lap, letting Soohyun strike up a conversation with him.

The program begins shortly after. The host is loud and enthusiastic, voice booming through the speakers. Yoongi claps when he’s supposed to, when new names are called to the stage or after people give speeches. The CEO hands out awards before dinner is served. Yoongi’s nerves are out-of-wack because of the promotion. He’s worked over three months for this, longer if you count how long he’s worked for this company.

Dinner relaxes Yoongi more. Jungkook is by his side, chatting away with his sweet smile and bright personality. Yoongi listens, only speaks when spoken too, and tries not to glare at Jinsun sitting on the other side of the table. His leg keeps bouncing, at least until Jungkook presses it down with his palm.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says, putting his hand over Jungkook’s.

“You’re nervous,” Jungkook says into Yoongi’s ear, turning away from the conversation. Yoongi shrugs—he’s always a little nervous. “I’m sure you’ll get it, hyung. I don’t know why that jerk would get it over you.”

Yoongi exhales shakily. “I’m trying not to think about it,” he says, eased by the squeeze to his thigh and the gentle smile Jungkook gives him. “Once the program is over, we’re gathering as a department to hear the recipient.”

“Okay.” Jungkook nods, smiles again. “Don’t forget that I’ll be there too.”

“I know.” Yoongi hopes Jungkook is right. He really wants this—no, he really needs this. His entire career has been towards this promotion and the one after it. Losing it means losing his dignity.

The rest of the evening finishes smoothly. There’s a live show from a band that plays a thirty minute set. During one of the slower songs, Jungkook pulls Yoongi to his feet, swaying with him in a slow dance. It’s embarrassing to Yoongi, but he notices it catches Director Hong’s eye—he’s smiling, pleased with this show of affection. Yoongi hopes it means something good. He hopes that Jungkook has been right all along.

It’s nearly nine-thirty when seats begin to empty. Director Hong instructs everyone to leave the hall and divert to a smaller room before they leave. Yoongi and Jungkook go with their hands clasped together, even when Yoongi tries to pull away. He’s sweating so much, it can’t be comfortable to hold his hand right now.

Yoongi sits on a chair to await everyone else’s arrival, Jungkook seated on his right. Jinsun and his wife sit a couple chairs away from them. Jinsun looks prideful and mocking, as if he knows he’s going to win. Yoongi feels nauseous. He enjoyed dinner, but it really isn’t all that enjoyable as it rises back up. Yoongi swallows it down, throat burning, and grips Jungkook’s hand even tighter.

Director Hong takes his place at the front of the room. He looks out at everyone and smiles, easygoing. Yoongi’s muscles are locked and tense, mind racing. Director Hong begins to speak about the honor it’ll be to replace the last assistant director. The man he chose is competent in his job, and he’s sure that he’ll fulfill the duties of his new position. There’s a lull in his speech, a moment of silence, that’s broken by the announcement of the new assistant director.

And it’s not Yoongi.

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he watches Jinsun rise, bridging the space between him and Director Hong. He bows at ninety-degrees, accepts the new badge with his new employment status. Yoongi watches, forcing a smile on his face. He repeats, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” when Chohee whispers to him that she hoped it was him. Jungkook’s face is blank. He still holds Yoongi’s hand tight.

They make a toast for Jinsun. Yoongi downs his alcohol quickly, excusing himself and Jungkook, claiming they have somewhere to be early in the morning. It’s a lie, straight through his teeth, but he can’t bear this. He doesn’t want to celebrate someone who has done nothing but ridicule him. Jinsun doesn’t deserve it.

But it’s not so easy to escape, apparently. When they’re outside, waiting for the valet to bring Yoongi’s car to the curb, Jinsun is calling out to him. To them. He stops a few feet away; Jungkook’s arm is around Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Leaving already?” Jinsun asks, tilting his head to the side. Yoongi doesn’t entertain him with a response. “There was cake. You didn’t want to stay for cake?”

“Congrats, Jinsun-ssi,” Yoongi says, the weakness in his voice practically mocking him. Jungkook rubs his shoulder, almost like he knows. “You’re very qualified for this position. Work hard.”

Jinsun’s lips curl into a sneer. The look gives Yoongi the chills in the worst way. “You don’t have to pretend, Yoongi-ssi. Or, keep pretending.” He glances at Jungkook, looking him up and down. Jungkook’s hand turns into a fist on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I don’t know what scheme you were pulling, exactly, Yoongi-ssi. But just know you were never meant for this position. I was always going to win.”

“Why? What makes you so much better, huh?” Jungkook snaps, and steps closer to Jinsun, sizing him up. Yoongi pulls him back, not wanting to cause a scene or a fight. They just need to go home.

“People don’t like you,” Jinsun says. Yoongi’s eyes burn. “People will never like you. Think about it. It took you five years to be up for this promotion. It took me two.” Jinsun laughs and Yoongi wants to punch him. Wants to see what Jinsun might look like with blood running down his face. “I’ll see you on Monday, Yoongi-ssi. Goodnight.”

He leaves, having the last word, the last laugh.

“Oh and.” Jinsun turns around again, a handful of paces away. Yoongi stares, eyes narrowed, wondering what else he could possibly say. Hasn’t he hurt Yoongi enough? “Have fun with your fake marriage.”

“Your keys, sir.”

Yoongi snatches his keys from the valet employee, anger pulsing through his veins, stalking over to the driver’s seat. He drives off the moment he hears Jungkook’s belt click, engine revving, jaw clenched.

He’s so humiliated. Everything has come crumbling down all at once. Everything he’s worked for, everything he’s done to get to this stage—what was it for? To get shamed by a coworker for his anxiety in front of his best friend, of all people?

“He’s wrong, hyung,” Jungkook says when they’re on the elevator up to their apartment. Yoongi doesn’t want to cry in front of him. They walk together to the front door. “He’s so wrong. People do like you. You know, I like you. That’s something.”

“Please just leave me alone,” Yoongi mutters as he enters the pin, opening the door. He removes his shoes and abandons Jungkook at the entrance.

Yoongi shuts the door of his bedroom and locks it for good measure, shrugging off his coat. He holds it in, tamps down on breaking. He changes from his suit to his pajamas, crawling under the covers of his bed. He stares at the wall for a while. His body is numb. He is so tired.

The tears trickle down Yoongi’s face slowly, at first, but then quicken like a rainstorm. Then he’s curling up into a ball, sobbing into his pillow, asking himself all these questions.

Where in his life did he go so wrong? Why can’t he be like everyone else, be able to talk in front of people? Why does he clam up, even during business meetings? Why can’t he manage to even order for himself at restaurants?

It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. All this hard work has gone to waste. There won’t be another opportunity to have another promotion like this, at least not for another few years. Maybe when Director Hong retires and Jinsun takes his place, then Yoongi will get promoted. But working that closely with Jinsun sounds like a nightmare. Yoongi doesn’t want that. He wanted to be the assistant director now. What good is it two more years down the line?

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. He’s still sort of crying. He feels miserable, a twisting ache inside his chest, a repeated stab wound. It’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair that Yoongi has this thing that he carries with him, that makes him so afraid to do things. This stupid, awful disorder that makes him too recintient, labels him as awkward and abnormal. What is he supposed to do with that?

“Hyung?”

Yoongi gasps to himself, facing the door, swallowing the noise in his throat. Jungkook wiggles the doorknob from the other side, then knocks on the wood. “Hyung, I… I know this sucks. And I know you wanted the promotion,” Jungkook says, his voice muffled by the door. Yoongi bites his bottom lip harshly to keep himself quiet. “But you always tell me and the other hyungs not to let things get to us. There’s always something to look forward to in life. I know you’re angry. I know that asshole hurt your feelings, but—who knows. Maybe it’s better this way.”

How could it be better this way?

“I know what you want is to be alone. And I know you’re crying because I know you, and also I’m not deaf,” Jungkook continues. Yoongi sniffles, heart rate calming, tears decelerating. He closes his eyes and listens to Jungkook’s voice. “But… You always tell me to never be alone, when I cry. Just let me in. I can hold your hand. Or not touch you at all. You don’t have to talk to me. Just let me be with you right now, hyung.”

Yoongi hiccups and folds back the covers of his bed, climbing out. His legs are shaky, but he manages to make the distance between him and the door. He turns the lock and cracks the door open. Jungkook stands there, waiting patiently, lifting his head once Yoongi opens the door completely. He smiles, and Yoongi’s heart aches.

“Hi. Fancy seeing you here,” Jungkook says, leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.

Yoongi forms a weak smile. “You’re stupid,” he mumbles, letting Jungkook come inside. He shuts the door again, climbing back into bed. Jungkook crawls in to join him.

They sit there, shoulder-to-shoulder, for longer than Yoongi knows. He goes back and forth between crying and not-crying, but Jungkook remains nonetheless. Jungkook holds Yoongi’s hand, rubs his back every once in a while, and wipes Yoongi’s face whenever he’s not crying. He hums softly and pets his hair.

Yoongi doesn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve to be liked by him.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says, some time later. Darkness shrouds them, the blanket wrapped around them both. Jungkook’s gentle breathing is an anchor. Yoongi listens to his heart beating against his ear. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world, Jungkook. Thank you.”

“Just sleep,” Jungkook whispers, and hums an old lullaby.

The tune puts Yoongi’s mind in a trance. When he shuts his eyes, he sees himself, swaying back and forth on a boat, following the waves of the ocean. The anchor of his boat is lowered, he’s there, in the middle of the seat, and he’s at peace. He is Min Yoongi, alone, and happy. He wishes it was real. He wishes he could be alone and happy.

++

Come Monday, Yoongi realizes they didn’t stage a break-up.

Yoongi had been too wound up in the promotion to remember. When he gets ready for work in the morning, he has no choice but to slip the ring on and put on a brave face. He’s going to see Jinsun today, and he is going to ridicule Yoongi again, and Yoongi is going to have to deal with it, because now he works under Jinsun’s authority.

As predicted, each day of the week, Jinsun does something that belittles Yoongi, makes him feel foolish.

On Monday, he snickers behind his hand when Yoongi stumbles over his words in the morning meeting. Tuesday and Wednesday, he gives Yoongi piles and piles of paperwork to digitize, and although that’s not even close to Yoongi’s actual responsibility, he does it out of fear. Thursday is by far the worst, when Jinsun shoves Yoongi in a way that both their coffees spill on him.

It’s Friday, and Yoongi’s patience is wearing thin. He skipped the weekly department dinner last night, and he just knows Jinsun is going to comment on it at some point. Yoongi went through the entire day, walking on eggshells, trying to make himself invisible.

It doesn’t work, obviously, because he’s a team leader and the employees on his team deliver their work for him to review, and Chohee even asks him to join her for lunch. He declines, mostly because it feels like she’s doing it out of pity. Jinsun makes the predicted comment when Yoongi passes him in the hallway.

Yoongi drives home that evening, prepared to lie in bed for the next two and a half days. However, he is unprepared for there to be a small crowd outside his apartment door. Said crowd consists of Seokjin, Jimin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok. They’re shoving each other over, peeking through the hole in the door to see if someone’s inside. It brings a smile to Yoongi’s face. He forgot that after three months, it would be his and Jungkook’s turn again.

“Are you done?” Yoongi asks, when they’ve deduced that no one is inside the apartment.

“Hyung!” Taehyung shouts, throwing himself at Yoongi. Yoongi catches him, displeased, patting his back. “Can you please unlock the door? I need to pee so—”

“Relax, I’ll open it.” Yoongi steps through the gap that his friends make for him, punching in the code before opening the door. One-by-one, the five men file into the apartment. Yoongi lets the door fall shut behind him, removing his shoes. The others have left theirs in a disarray, and it warms Yoongi’s heart, seeing everyone’s shoes together.

Yoongi gets changed out of his work clothes before joining the others on the couch. Without Jungkook here, he’s forced to sit between Taehyung and Jimin, squished into a sandwich. His head ends up on Taehyung’s shoulder, body twisted to have his legs over Jimin’s lap. He just listens to them talk about their work weeks, trying not to think too hard about his own.

“Oh yeah,” Seokjin says, turning around to look up at Yoongi. He’s been sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Namjoon on his favorite armchair and Hoseok between his knees. “Did you end up getting that promotion, Yoongi-yah?”

Yoongi bites his nails instead of answering. Of course, they would remember and ask. The humiliation washes over him all over again, the anger of not doing enough to get the promotion. He just shakes his head in answer and tries to shrink into Taehyung’s side.

“So… now what?” Jimin asks, stroking the skin on Yoongi’s ankle. Yoongi shrugs. He doesn’t know, either. “Are you going to keep working there?”

“You think I’ll quit?” Yoongi’s amused by the thought, mostly because he knows how that will make him look to everyone. Especially Jinsun. “No. I’m not quitting.”

Hoseok sighs. “But you hate working there.”

“Yeah, you always complain about it,” Taehyung adds, petting the back of Yoongi’s neck. They’re right, he supposes. Ever since Jinsun was hired two years ago, Yoongi slowly began to hate working there. He and Jinsun were on the same team at that time, before they worked their way up to team leader alongside each other. But Jinsun always made it clear that he thought he was better than Yoongi.

“Hyung—”

Yoongi shakes his head, curt and dismissive. “Just. Give it a rest, okay? I’ve had a shitty week.” Namjoon sighs, sympathetic. There’s a squeeze from Jimin to his calf. “Can someone check when Jungkook’s going to be home? We’ve been waiting for him for ages.”

The room is quiet before Hoseok murmurs, “Sure, I’ll call him.”

Even when he leaves for the kitchen, the room remains still. Yoongi sits up a little and turns on the TV, filling the gap with the movie they planned to watch together. It captures everyone else’s attention but Yoongi’s. He drifts off into his own world, staring at the streetlamp outside the window, willing for time to pause. It’s overbearing, the expectations. Yoongi doesn’t know what his next step is.

Quitting shouldn’t be an option—it isn’t an option. Jinsun already knows how much losing this promotion has affected Yoongi. He’s taken advantage of that, and Yoongi would only be prone to more mockery if he handed in a letter of resignation to Director Hong. To Jinsun, Yoongi is a laughingstock. A weakling.

But Yoongi doesn’t know how much longer he can bear this jeering. Jinsun pulls his leg—constantly. He makes Yoongi feel insecure just for existing. He endures it for the paycheck, for the money he makes from working his ass off every work day of the month. But it’s growing intolerable. He wants to lash out, fight back—which isn’t Yoongi’s usual instinct, but he’s just so tired of being a joke.

No one else notices when the front door opens quietly, Jungkook slipping in through it. He looks exhausted, eyelids drooping as he removes his shoes, placing them on the rack. His coat is over his arm, buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is a mess, shoulders hunched. Yoongi removes himself from Taehyung’s hold, climbing over sleeping Seokjin so as to not disturb him, and trails after Jungkook to his room.

“You’re finally home,” Yoongi says, leaning against the door frame, watching Jungkook dump his things on top of his desk. “Long day?”

“You would think being an IT specialist would be all fun and games, but no. It’s actually very difficult and annoying,” Jungkook says, sliding his shirt off his shoulders. His back is towards Yoongi, so Yoongi uses the moment to admire the tattoo on his shoulder, adorning his muscles. He’s seen it hundreds of times, but he probably won’t ever get tired of its intricacy. Jungkook’s eye for detail is remarkable. “Is there food?”

Yoongi looks away from Jungkook’s tattoo, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just leftovers from this week. I got home late too, everyone was already here,” he explains, eyes slowly tracking back to Jungkook’s exposed skin when he changes from slacks to shorts. “Should hyung cook for you?”

Jungkook looks up and smiles, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Leftovers are good.” He pulls a sweater on, poking Yoongi’s cheek before walking back out to the kitchen. Yoongi follows him instead of rejoining the rest of their friends. “Your day?”

“The same as the rest of my week,” Yoongi says, opening a bottle of beer for himself and Jungkook. He sits across from Jungkook at the table, watching him begin to eat. “What should I do, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook says something with his mouth full. Yoongi scrunches up his nose in distaste before Jungkook realizes. He holds up a finger and swallows, then asks, “What do you mean?” 

Yoongi sighs and says, “About work. My job.” He closes his eyes and lifts his bottle to his lips, tilting his head back to have a couple of gulps. “I… hate that Jinsun was right.”

“Hyung. He wasn’t.”

“Jungkook.” Yoongi sighs again. He’s so tired of this. “He was, in a way. It only took him two years to be up for the same promotion. I’ve worked there for five years and I didn’t get promoted, so what does that say about me?”

Jungkook reaches across the table, putting his hand over Yoongi’s. “It means your hard work isn’t getting appreciated,” he says, wearing a soft smile. Something in Yoongi’s chest aches, and he suspects he knows what it is, but venturing deeper into that feeling is terrifying. “It took them so long to recognize the kind of work you do for them. That reality only means that they’re taking you for granted.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek. He did consider this—only once or twice—but it did cross his mind. He always wondered why they waited until Yoongi had worked there for over three years to move him up the ladder. It was always alongside Jinsun. He wonders why that is now that Jungkook mentions it. Maybe Jimin was onto something when he implied that Yoongi should quit.

“Should I find a new job?”

“Maybe.” Jungkook pulls his hand away to continue eating. “Do you think it’ll make you happy?”

Yoongi shrugs. He really doesn’t know what would make him happy. “I don’t know. That promotion meant everything to me and now it suddenly feels like I have nothing.”

Jungkook points his chopsticks at Yoongi, wrist limp. “Do not. Make any. Impulse decisions.” Yoongi cracks a smile at that—it’s more Jungkook’s issue, impulse decision making. But it’s cute that Jungkook’s worries that Yoongi will do the same. “Look around at job openings, maybe send people your resume.”

“What if I went back to school?”

“Hyung. What did I just say?”

“What? I thought we were throwing ideas out there.”

“What would you even study?”

Yoongi crosses his arms and mutters, “Let’s talk about you instead.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t waver. “What about me?” he asks, licking the spice off his chopsticks once he’s finished eating. It’s barely been ten minutes and Jungkook just inhaled all their leftovers. “I don’t have anything going on in my life.”

“Don’t you like someone?” Yoongi asks, taking another sip of his beer. He remembers Jungkook confiding in him about his dilemma, after that night he got too drunk. “Have you made a move on them yet?”

Jungkook’s shoulders go stiff, smile fading off his face. It seems to be a sensitive spot for him, but Yoongi knows to push him or he’ll try to box it in. Jungkook has always been like this—he claims he can handle everything on his own, that he doesn’t need help. It probably has something to do with growing up without a father until his mother remarried. He won’t open up until someone pries and pries and pries. He’s stubborn like that—a clam refusing to open his shell.

Even after all the years they’ve shared together, Jungkook shies away from telling Yoongi things. Yoongi is the same, he’s a fairly private person. When he started dating his ex-girlfriend, it took him almost a month into the relationship to tell his friends about it. The same thing went with the break-up. In that case, Jungkook found out because he was a room away when they broke up, but Yoongi would’ve taken a few days to tell him about it.

“Why don’t you tell me about them?”

Jungkook shakes his head, lips forming an ’o’ shape. “No, no.” He stacks the dishes, laying his used chopsticks on a napkin. “That’s embarrassing.”

Yoongi pouts, desperate for the distraction. “You told me about all the other guys you’ve been interested in, what’s so different about this one?”

“Because,” Jungkook frowns; he always looks like this cute, angry bunny when he makes that face, “you know him.”

“What?” Yoongi sits up, suddenly on high alert. “Now you have to tell me, what the fuck. Who is it? Is it a work friend?” He widens his eyes and gestures to the occupied living room, lowering his voice. “Is it one of our friends?”

“Hyung!” Jungkook’s ears are bright red, which means Yoongi’s close to finding out who it is.

“Tell me.” Yoongi kicks him from under the table, putting on his best pleading look. He even clasps his hands together, practically begging. “I’m so curious now. How do I know them? What if it’s someone I don’t like?”

Jungkook kicks Yoongi in the shin, giving him a stern look, as if that could intimidate Yoongi into stopping. “Hyung. No. I’m not giving you anymore information. Then you’ll try to get us together and what if that ruins the relationship we already have?” He gets up from the table, carrying the dishes to the sink with him. “Like. That’s so scary. I don’t want to ruin a good friendship.”

“Okay, but, what if he likes you back and wants to take the risk for you?” Yoongi asks, knowing that Jungkook has a logical worry, but is always the type to refute it. “You can’t know until you say something.”

“That’s the thing. I say something and he doesn’t take the hint.” Jungkook sighs, tips his head back and groans in obvious frustration. His back is to Yoongi, angrily washing the dishes. “Ah, he drives me crazy, hyung. He’s so annoying.”

Yoongi leans his cheek into his palm, swirling his beer in the bottle. “That’s a new one,” he says, still intrigued. “I don’t usually find the people I like annoying?”

“You don’t get it, hyung. He just sees me as a kid.” Jungkook dries his hands on a towel and opens the fridge, tapping the handle. He chooses a carton of banana milk, poking a straw through the lid as he takes his seat again. “I give up. I’m never going to find love.”

“You definitely won’t, not with that attitude.”

Jungkook whines incoherently, kicking his feet against Yoongi’s. He takes a long sip of his milk, setting it down on the table after. “Hyung. I’m serious, though. What do I do about this?”

Yoongi puts on a smile, one that he knows will ease Jungkook’s worries, at least temporarily. “Jungkook-ah, really. You know what I’ll say. Follow your heart, your instincts,” he says, reaching across the table to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “You know yourself best. Tell him when you’re ready. You deserve to be honest with yourself.”

“How do you dish out good advice when you’re going through shit too?”

“I’m just special like that.”

Yoongi grins while Jungkook rolls his eyes, and they enjoy each other’s company for a few more minutes before sneaking back into the living room. The movie is nearly over, but Yoongi and Jungkook still squish onto the couch and whisper to each other, speculating about what could have happened. Seokjin is still fast asleep, now joined by Hoseok and Namjoon, both piled on the armchair. Only Jimin and Taehyung are awake, watching the movie.

“You can just stay over,” Yoongi says when the movie is finally over, their friends slowly waking up. Jungkook’s head is resting on Yoongi’s shoulder, holding his hand, drawing shapes in his palm. “It’s late. I know no one drank, but… maybe we can have a group breakfast tomorrow.”

“Brunch?” Hoseok suggests, yawning into Namjoon’s neck.

“Mm. Brunch does sound good,” Jimin says, leaning into Taehyung with half-open eyes. “Who’s sleeping where?”

Jungkook lifts his head a little, placing his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder instead. His cologne whiffs into Yoongi’s nose, overwhelming his senses for a moment. “Someone can share with me and someone can share with Yoongi-hyung,” he says, sounding sleepy. “I bet someone could take the couch, if they don’t mind. Hm… And I guess we can move this table and lay out mats for everyone else.”

“Hoseok and I can take the floor,” Namjoon says, his arms looped around Hoseok’s middle. “Maybe Jin-hyung can take the couch since he’s still sleeping.”

“If I sleep without Jimin, I will die,” Taehyung declares, peering over at Yoongi. He pouts and puts on puppy eyes. “Hyung, can we take your bed?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Why mine?”

“Because your bed is bigger than Jungkook’s, obviously.”

“Fine, whatever.” Yoongi braces himself on the edge of the couch before pushing himself up. “Jungkook-ah, help me set everything up.”

It takes nearly another hour to get everyone situated in their sleeping arrangements, making sure they all have something to brush their teeth with and clothes to sleep in. Yoongi and Jungkook are the last ones to wash up, used to washing up at the same time. Yoongi finishes first and leaves Jungkook to his skincare routine, heading for Jungkook’s bedroom. He readjusts the covers before lying on his preferred side of the bed, phone in his hand.

Jungkook comes in a few minutes later, shutting the door after him. He pulls his shirt off and leaves it on the edge of his bed, climbing in too. They both spend time on their phones, light on their faces and shifting every so often. Yoongi is the first to set his phone down, turning onto his left side to face Jungkook.

He stares at Jungkook’s side profile for a while, tracing the shape of his jaw with his eyes, admiring even the littlest of things like the slope of his nose or the dip of his cupid’s bow. Eventually, Jungkook turns his back to Yoongi, so Yoongi’s attention is put on the tattoo on his back. He reaches out, feeling Jungkook shudder under his touch, tracing the spiraling shapes, the way the ink curves over his shoulder blade and to his spine.

“Hyung. Your hands are so cold,” Jungkook mumbles after a couple minutes, putting his phone on his bedside table. Yoongi withdraws his hand, looking at Jungkook when he turns over again. He takes Yoongi’s hands, rubbing them with his own. “Why are you always cold?”

“You know I run cold,” Yoongi mumbles, trying to hold back a yawn, but failing miserably. “I really hope everything works out. For both of us. With my career and your love life.”

Jungkook laughs and kisses Yoongi’s hands before letting go. It’s hard to see him now that the room is dark, but Yoongi can still make out the faint bumps and ridges of his features. The curve of his lips when he smiles. “Goodnight, hyung,” he whispers, and presses his lips to the corner of Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi doesn’t know what it means.

++

“Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath before looking up at Jinsun standing in the doorway of his office. It’s been a hectic morning, dealing with a physical altercation between higher-ups of a different department. The chaos has died down by now, but Yoongi still has more than a handful of work to sort through. Jinsun has a smug smile on his face, inviting himself into Yoongi’s office. He still hasn’t layed off on the torture.

“Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, bored, returning to looking at his monitor. If he pretends he doesn’t care, then shouldn’t that make Jinsun leave him alone? “I don’t have time for your antics, Jinsun-ssi.”

Jinsun shuts Yoongi’s office door and sits in the chair across from his desk. “Cut the bullshit,” he says, making Yoongi flinch at the sudden use of profanity. “You and your ’fiancé’ aren’t actually together, are you?” He even uses air quotes. The fucking audacity.

“Of course we are,” Yoongi says, clenching his jaw, putting on his best poker face. It isn’t that difficult, honestly, not when Yoongi can (sometimes) endure Jungkook’s tickling without moving a muscle. “Why would you even make that assumption? My relationship is none of your business.”

“So you weren’t using him to get an advantage on my promotion?”

“Look, Jinsun-ssi, whatever you think you know, you probably don’t.” Yoongi leans forward on his desk, glaring Jinsun down. He’s not in the mood for this. He already had to deal without any coffee this morning, both at home and in the break room. “I don’t know what I ever did for you to pick on me and hate me, but I honestly think you’re a terrible human being with absolutely no life, so you choose to project on mine.”

Jinsun’s mouth twitches. “So you do have a limit,” he says, leaning against Yoongi’s desk too. He picks up a pen, twirling it between his fingers, then looks back up at Yoongi. “Here I thought that nothing could touch your icy heart. But you’re soft, Min Yoongi.”

“Please go back to work,” Yoongi says between his teeth, knowing if this gets prolonged, he will certainly be out of a job for violence. Yoongi firmly believes in violence never being the answer, but god, he’s been pissed off at Jinsun for months. “Keep your nose out of my relationship.”

“I don’t believe it’s real. All of a sudden, this too-good boy comes and says you’re fiancé, and yet.” Jinsun returns the pen to its designated spot. Yoongi can practically feel the flames rising off his head. “And yet, no one ever heard of him. No indication this man has ever existed in your life.”

Yoongi presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and laughs. “If I show you proof, will you leave me alone?”

“Perhaps.” Jinsun narrows his eyes. “Depends on the proof.”

Fed up, Yoongi takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, scrolling back a few years to find a picture of him and Jungkook together.

He finds one, where they’re sitting in the middle of their current living room. Yoongi’s head is on Jungkook’s shoulder, smiling with his eyes closed. Jungkook’s arm is around Yoongi’s back, head on top of Yoongi’s, smiling at the camera. It was the day they moved in together, probably three years ago. They seem awfully like a couple in it.

Yoongi turns his phone towards Jinsun. “If you keep bothering me, Yoon Jinsun-ssi, I’m going to start reporting you for harassment,” he says. Jinsun’s jaw drops, eyes towards the screen, zooming in on the picture. Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Get out of my office.”

“The director was calling for you,” Jinsun says, pushing himself up rather aggressively, knocking the chair several feet backwards. Yoongi clenches his jaw—why would the director be asking for him? Could this mean that Yoongi is done working here? The end of his job? “He wants you to meet him in his office.”

“Get out,” Yoongi repeats, calmly rising from his place behind his desk. He powers off his computer and gestures for Jinsun to get a move on. With a huff, Jinsun struts out of Yoongi’s office, leaving the door open behind him. Yoongi takes a deep breath to settle his nerves before he leaves his office too, following the path to reach Director Hong’s office.

He halts in front of the door, presses down on his chest to force steady breathing—his mind is a frenzy of ideas, jumping to conclusions. He’s probably about to get fired. Yoongi can handle that. He wants to get out of here, anyway. He’s been thinking more about what Jungkook told him the other day, about the fact that maybe he just isn’t being appreciated here. That’s what Yoongi is beginning to take away from this situation. He can’t think of another reason he wouldn’t get the promotion over Jinsun.

Yoongi knocks, then opens the door slowly. He slips inside and shuts the door behind him, standing by the entrance. He feels awkward, considering Director Hong is hunched over his desk, disregarding his presence. Or, that’s what Yoongi thought.

“Take a seat, Yoongi-ssi,” Director Hong says, briefly lifting his head, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

Yoongi obeys and seats himself in one of the chairs. His nerves are even worse than before; complete with his heart racing and knee bouncing and sweat forming on the nape of his neck. This is it, he thinks. This is where I get fired for the first time.

“Sorry about that. Crazy morning we're having here, huh?” Director Hong says, and sets aside the folder he has open before him. He scoots his desk chair closer, resting his elbows and forearms on the surface. He takes off his glasses and places them near the keyboard. “How are you doing today, Yoongi-ssi?”

“Um.” Yoongi wasn’t expecting that. He scratches the back of his neck before nodding once. “I’m doing okay, Director Hong.”

Director Hong smiles. “And your fiancé?”

“He’s doing okay too.” Yoongi laughs, uncomfortable. He’s still confused as to why he’s sitting here. If Director Hong is going to fire him, then why is he bothering with pleasantries? “I haven’t seen him today, so I can’t say for sure. But Jungkook always tends to be on the better side.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Director Hong nods, smiles again. Yoongi musters a polite smile in return. Get on with it, please. “I wanted to talk to you about your performance.”

Yoongi holds his breath while Director Hong continues. “Your team success rate is outstanding. It’s the best in the department,” he says, and Yoongi—is surprised to hear that, considering the circumstances. He didn’t think that his team was outranking the entire human resources department. But the promotion…? Yoongi is beyond puzzled now. Why is he here? “I can probably guess what you’re thinking right now, Yoongi-ssi. Are you wondering why you did not get promoted over Jinsun?”

“Yes, sir.” Yoongi wets his lips, managing to laugh in order to relieve the stress. “To be blunt, I have no idea why I’m here. Or… Really, what you’re trying to tell me. It’s selfish of me to think that I was going to become assistant director over Jinsun, but I trust your judgment. If you believed that Jinsun could do a better job than me, then I can’t argue. I shouldn’t argue.”

“You’re a very respectable man, Yoongi-ssi,” Director Hong says, opening a drawer to his right. Yoongi waits, unsure of what to do or say. Should he say thank you? Will Director Hong say something else? “My wife runs a business. A real estate agency.” Director Hong hands Yoongi a brochure with his wife’s face on it. He flips it open, still befuddled. What does this have to do with Yoongi? “It’s not small, but not large either. She asked me to look for someone to help her with managing clients and new agents. I thought you would be interested.”

It finally clicks in Yoongi’s brain. A new job opportunity. That makes so much sense.

“She would pay you as a full-time employee on salary.” Director Hong also passes him a business card. Yoongi takes it, running his fingers over the glossy print. He looks back at Director Hong. “I don’t know the details. I couldn’t tell you sooner because she was unsure on whether she wanted to hire someone to do this job. But I figured it would suit you better than Yoon Jinsun. Your efforts would be much more valued there.”

“I… don’t know what to say.” Yoongi stares down at the business card again. “This—I thought—”

Director Hong laughs. “Did you come in here thinking I was firing you?”

“I mean. A little bit, yes.” Yoongi flips through the brochure again. His mind is rattled. He should pinch himself to check that this is real.

“I believe you would thrive better under her leadership. I know working in this environment is difficult for you.” Yoongi lets the brochure and business card sit in his lap, curling his hands into fists. He knows? Is his turmoil and suffering that obvious? “You would be more in charge of your hours, I believe. Steady pay. Bimonthly paycheck instead of monthly. Your skillset works better for small groups, which is why you do so well as a team leader. You have your faults, but you always pick yourself back up. It’s admirable.”

Yoongi suppresses his smile. He’s never been more relieved in his life. “Thank you,” he says, and bows his head. “I never saw myself working elsewhere before, but now… I have a worthwhile opportunity waiting for me. Thank you, Director Hong.”

Director Hong waves his hand through the air. “Thank my wife when you make your decision. You’ll have to go through a formal resignation and everything, so you’ll still have this job until then. My bias towards my wife aside, I really think you would thrive much more working there, instead of here. Give it some thought before you decide.”

“Thank you again.”

Director Hong lets Yoongi go shortly after that. Yoongi rushes through the floor, returning to his own office. He shuts the door and locks it, tossing the papers from the director onto his desk. Frantic, he digs his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts, fumbling for the right person. He doesn’t even hesitate when he calls Jungkook.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook says when he answers.

“I got a job offer,” Yoongi says, breathless.

“I’m—wait what?”

Yoongi finally lets his smile break onto his face, dropping into his chair. “I got a job offer,” he repeats, still shocked that these are words coming out of his mouth. “Long story short, but Director Hong’s wife is looking to employ someone for her real estate agency that can help her with management. And Director Hong thought of me, so the real reason I wasn’t promoted was—this! So I could leave this shit hole and go somewhere better.”

Jungkook laughs, always so genuine—bubbly and happy. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut and leans back, smiling. “Hyung, that’s amazing,” he says, followed by another laugh. “Seriously. I told you. I told you that there is always something good that comes out of things that don’t go your way. Fate played its part for you.”

“I know.” Yoongi sighs, opening his eyes to stare at his ceiling. “You were right, Jungkook-ah. How are you always right?”

“It’s just the way life works, hyung. You thought that not becoming assistant director was the end of the world. But hyung, not making the promotion—it was just a bridge for a new change. This is what you’ve been looking for, right?”

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I think—I think this is the next step for me, Jungkook-ah.”

Yoongi can practically hear the smile in Jungkook’s voice. “I’m proud of you, hyung.”

“Don’t go all emotional on me.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying… you’ve come a long way from the person I met all those years ago.”

Yoongi cringes at Jungkook’s heartfelt words. “If you ever say something like that again, I’m abandoning you for real.”

“Why are you like this?” Jungkook complains, letting out an exasperated sigh. Yoongi just grins. He secretly appreciates it, hearing Jungkook be so proud of him. “Okay. Anyway, should we meet for dinner?”

Yoongi sits up now, rifling through the papers on his desk, bringing his meeting book to the top of the stack. “Um, it’s Thursday. You know what that means.”

“I didn’t know I could get sick of eating fried chicken, but if you keep making me go to those dinner gatherings, I don’t think I can ever eat it again.”

“Trust me, Jungkook-ah. I get it, really.” Yoongi laughs a little. “Just… we can go for a bit, then leave like always. I’ll buy you something better for dinner.”

Jungkook is silent for a couple of seconds before he asks, “Like what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay… I do like the sound of that.”

Yoongi smiles and taps his fingers against his desk. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“See you, hyung.”

++

When Jungkook arrives at the fried chicken restaurant, Yoongi greets him with a hug. Jungkook hugs back, albeit confusedly, hands resting on Yoongi’s waist when he pulls away. He’s smiling, head tilted to the side. He’s pretty, Yoongi thinks, but he doesn’t know why he thinks it.

“You’re in a good mood,” Jungkook says, drawing back, his right hand tangling with Yoongi’s left. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, but the weight is comfortable and familiar. Yoongi smiles up at Jungkook, certainly in a good mood. “I haven’t seen you like this in so long.”

“Let’s go sit. I want to drink tonight, celebrate my departure,” Yoongi says, guiding Jungkook back to the crowded table.

For once, Yoongi allows himself to relax in this setting. He removes the first couple buttons of his shirt, rolls up his sleeves—he strikes up the most non-work conversation with Lee Chohee he could think of. He learns, soon enough, that they have similar taste in music. All this time, and he never would have guessed that he actually does have things in common with his coworkers. Well, Yoongi is glad that he can start fresh with new people soon.

He can’t say for sure that he’s going to begin working for Director Hong’s wife, but everything inside him is telling him to. Yoongi still doesn’t know the details, but he’s leaning towards it regardless. Director Hong was right, in that he isn’t doing well in this environment. Yoongi looks at himself and realizes his health was reversing itself, slowly, but reversing nonetheless. He was doing much better as a new employee than he is now. The new setting will be refreshing.

Halfway through the meal, Director Hong’s wife arrives, so Yoongi seizes the opportunity to acquaint himself with her. They discuss the job in more detail; a new office location, the workload and hours, the pay. The setting is informal, but Yoongi appreciates that she entertains his questions. After discussing it with her, Yoongi is even more inclined to take the job. He won’t be surprised if she talked it up, but if the woman works like her husband, then he trusts her.

Jungkook migrates to sit next to Yoongi again. At this rate, Yoongi has taken every shot he’s passed. The news of him potentially leaving reached everyone quickly, the way news does in a workplace. People felt like talking to him. They say they’ll miss him, that it’s been so fun to work with him. Yoongi accepts the comments with a smile, despite knowing they’re all lying through their teeth. He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind feeling appreciated, for once.

“I wanna say something,” Yoongi says, his words slurred by his accent and the alcohol, holding a shot of soju. Only the people around him are paying attention. Jungkook is staring at Yoongi in wonder. “Wanna… say something to Jungkook.”

“Me?” Jungkook whispers through the noise.

Yoongi turns to him and smiles, brazen and honest. “Yes you, silly.” He laughs, others chuckling along with him. Jungkook smiles too, crooked and confused, fingers wrapped around the neck of a soda bottle. “Just. Thank you. For the last six years of my life. You made everything so much more bearable.” Yoongi pauses. “You’ll make an amazing husband.”

Jungkook’s smile vanishes in an instant. Yoongi tips his glass back as people cheer, swallowing down his soju, looking back at Jungkook’s horrified expression. Jungkook gets up abruptly, shrugging on his jacket, murmuring under his breath. Yoongi frowns, watching in a daze at first—coworkers are whispering. When Jungkook’s midway to the door, Yoongi gets half a mind to scramble after him.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi calls, stumbling over his own feet, ignoring Jinsun’s snicker in the corner of his eyes. He pushes the door open into the cold night, catching Jungkook’s sleeve to stop him. “Hey. What just happened?”

“I can’t do this,” Jungkook whimpers, shaking his head. Tears are in his eyes, yet don’t move past the threshold. They stick there, to his eyelashes, not daring to go further. He roughly tugs his arm out of Yoongi’s hold. “You can’t say those things to me if you don’t mean them.”

Yoongi steps closer, even when Jungkook cowers into himself. “I wasn’t lying,” he says, pursing his lips. Jungkook clearly doesn’t believe that. “Jungkook. What do you mean by that?”

“You’re so drunk, hyung.” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping back. Yoongi knows he’s had much more than usual, but it isn’t that bad, is it? “You couldn’t possibly have meant it. I know we’re still pretending and stuff, but come on. Making me feel like that isn’t fair.”

“Like… like what?”

“Like I’m special to you,” Jungkook snaps. Yoongi flinches, unused to this tone. Jungkook must really be upset. “Like I mean more than a friend, okay? You’re drunk as shit and you won’t remember me saying this, but god, this stupid thing made me realize how much I love you. I don’t want you to see me as your brother. I want you to see me as Jungkook. As someone you can be in love with.”

Jungkook’s tears are falling now, rushing down his face, thick and wet. He makes a frustrated sound, almost an animal-like growl. Yoongi takes a couple of steps back, unsure of what to say. His eyes are frozen wide on Jungkook crying in front of him.

He was Jungkook’s crush? All the teasing he did, just for it to end up being himself? Has Jungkook been hiding this or was Yoongi just bad at interpreting it?

“Forget it. I didn’t think you would reciprocate anyway,” Jungkook says, turning away on his heel. Yoongi wants to tell him not to go—to let him process, but he can’t move and Jungkook’s figure quickly gets further and further away. Until he turns a corner and he’s gone. He’s gone, just like that.

“Fuck,” Yoongi finally says. His senses creep up on him, realizing where he went wrong, how things went sideways. “How did I fuck this up, too?”

Shame burns low in Yoongi’s stomach when he returns inside the restaurant. He excuses himself early and pays his dues, checking his phone on the way to his car. Would texting Jungkook be a good thing or would that only scare him away more? What if he isn’t at home? He just walked off, he could be anywhere right now. He can’t be far yet, but Yoongi has no idea where he went.

Well. When Yoongi reaches the spot where he parked his car, it’s gone. He pats his pockets for his keys, searching through his jacket and work bag, but comes out empty. Must be Jungkook who took them secretly. Yoongi shouldn’t be driving anyway, not while he’s this drunk.

He’ll go home first. Check the apartment, see if Jungkook locked himself in his bedroom. Chances are, that’s where Jungkook is. Yoongi doubts Jungkook would do something drastically different. He would still go home, regardless of the situation with Yoongi. He’s too conscious about what people think. He knows Yoongi would worry if he isn’t there, so Yoongi is counting on it.

Sure enough, after a taxi ride home, Yoongi finds his car sitting in his parking spot. That’s all the reassurance he needs as he takes the elevator up to their floor, heart racing nervously. He still hasn’t fully comprehended the reality of what Jungkook said. But he’s less rigid now, more willing to use his tongue. Yoongi can at least tell Jungkook to let him think before giving him a silent treatment.

Yoongi lets himself into their apartment. He sighs, finding Jungkook’s new shoes sitting beside his old, ratty boots. The boots which have been in Yoongi’s backseat since the night he got drunk at the club. Jungkook must have seen them when he drove home in Yoongi’s car. It might have made him more angry at Yoongi. He wasn’t intentionally hiding them from Jungkook, but he also wasn’t exactly telling him where they were.

Shaking it off, Yoongi removes his shoes and coat, leaving his things in his bedroom. He decides to change into pajamas first, not risking feeling uncomfortable while attempting this conversation with Jungkook. Who’s apparently in love with him. Which is crazy, considering they’ve been friends for six years and—how recent is that? Was it only because he’s been pretending to be Yoongi’s fiancé?

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says, through Jungkook’s locked bedroom door. He knocks, eyes feeling heavy, resting his forehead on the doorframe. “Please let me in. Don’t leave me in the dark about this. It’s not fair.”

There’s no response, as predicted. Yoongi struggles to find a coherent train of thought and simply continues to ramble. “I couldn’t have known you felt that way about me,” he says. “You’ve been my best friend for so long. I never… considered you that way, until we started pretending. Even when we were scamming, it was something fun I did with my best friend.”

Yoongi sighs, shuts his eyes to relieve his pounding skull. “To be honest, I did think about it recently.” He remembers thinking it, but not having the time to understand it. “I was thinking about you. And that you always make me feel so much, so deeply. My chest hurts when I’m around you, isn’t that crazy?” He pauses, swallowing his discomfort. There’s a muffled sob from the other side. “When I think about your pain, I feel pain. If someone hurts you, I’m hurt too.

“All those times, Jungkook-ah, any time I called you beautiful—I meant it with every fiber in my body. You’re the most beautiful person, Jungkook.” Yoongi sniffles, wiping his cheeks in mild confusion. When did he start crying? “I was so busy and stressed about the promotion, or the lack thereof, that I couldn’t see it. Did you always feel this way? Have you… hidden it from me for all these years?”

Yoongi waits a few seconds. He counts them, the numbers flicking up in his head like a stopwatch. Five, then ten, then thirty. Then it has been sixty seconds and the man on the other side of this door remains silent. Yoongi hiccups through a sob. Is he allowed to feel like this after neglecting Jungkook for so long? Does he have a right to pity himself for not acknowledging the love before?

“What can I say, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, unsure if he’s humiliated or just apologetic. “Should I say I’m sorry? Would you—would you even believe that?”

He thinks he hears a weak, “hyung,” from the other side.

Yoongi raps his knuckles on the door again, leaving his palm flat against the surface. “Please,” he mutters, blinking back more tears. “Open the door for hyung.”

A moment later, Yoongi hears the creak of Jungkook’s bed. His slow footsteps. The doorknob jostles a little, like he’s debating whether he should open the door or not. Yoongi keeps his head resting on the doorframe, moving his hand off the wood. “Please,” Yoongi repeats, voice cracking.

The door opens, screeching hinges echoing down the hallway. Jungkook has changed into a hoodie and sweatpants, eyes red and cheeks blotchy. Yoongi imagines he looks similarly wrecked, but doesn’t care much for it. This is Jungkook, of all people. Why should he care that Jungkook sees him like this?

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, stepping through the doorway. Jungkook drops his head, chin against his sternum. “Don’t run off like that, okay? You scared me.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. He sniffles, hands twitching by his sides, curling in and out of fists. Yoongi reaches for them, grabbing his fingers, pulling himself closer. “I know. I’m sorry, hyung.”

Yoongi wipes his face with one hand, then does the same to Jungkook’s cheeks. “Look at me,” he says, but Jungkook shakes his head and doesn’t move an inch. “Jungkookie, please look at me.”

Jungkook shakes his head again. “Can’t. ‘m ashamed.”

“Why?” Yoongi hates this. Hates how even when he’s right here, talking, trying to sort things out after making a mess—even then, Jungkook won’t even crack his shell wide enough for Yoongi to slip through. “I want to understand, so tell me, okay? I want you to tell me how long you’ve felt like this and—and—”

He chokes up, covers his mouth to hide the noise. Yoongi thinks he shouldn’t be crying this much. But he is anyway, so he presses his face hard into Jungkook’s chest, grabs his shirt like his life depends on it. Jungkook’s arms encircle him automatically, made to fit, clicking their pieces together. Yoongi cries, and cries—because he doesn’t know what more he can say, how he could possibly fix this.

“Do you know how stupid it is to fall for your best friend?” Jungkook asks, voice wet and deep. He sobs into Yoongi’s shoulder, the vibrations traveling through Yoongi’s skull, all the way down to his toes. “It feels selfish. It’s stupid because, you love and love and love. And even after pouring our heart out till it’s dry, your best friend doesn’t see you as what you want. Isn’t that stupid, hyung? Isn’t it stupid of me to give you that love without feeling bad about it?”

“No,” Yoongi breathes into the fabric of Jungkook’s hoodie. He says it, even though he knows Jungkook can’t hear him. “It’s not stupid. It’s brave.”

Jungkook presses his hand to the base of Yoongi’s spine. It feels heavy. Safe.

“It was supposed to be fake,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi turns his head up to look at him. Cheeks flushed a pretty pink, eyes glistening in the dim lighting. He is beautiful, Yoongi thinks. “Then I saw. I saw how amazing you could be, like that, with me. I saw it and it felt perfect, you know? But it felt selfish, too. Because how could I—how dare I take the love from you that you were bound to give someone else?”

“Jungkook—”

“No more fake.” Jungkook’s hands rise, cup Yoongi’s face—brushes away the tear streaks. Yoongi looks Jungkook in the eye, probably for the first time. “I want it. I want it to be real, Min Yoongi.”

It’s a rash choice, kissing someone in a moment like this. But Yoongi’s body moves faster than his brain. The second he has the thought, his lips are against Jungkook’s. A soft kiss, made for them. It makes sense to Yoongi, to kiss Jungkook—to touch him, to hold him, to love him. The truth has been there, beneath the layers of Yoongi’s heart. He just needed someone to rip them all off to see.

Jungkook gasps when Yoongi pulls away. His hands are still on Yoongi’s face, trembling slightly, but holding him firm. Yoongi kisses his lips again, unsure of what to say next. Instead of deciding, he leaves quick pecks on the apples of Jungkook’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the space between his eyebrows. His cupid’s bow and chin, and the space just above his collar.

Jungkook giggles at the last spot. “It tickles,” he says, sniffing. He kisses Yoongi again. “What are you telling me?”

“That you can have it be real, Jeon Jungkook,” Yoongi says, mirroring the smile that blooms across Jungkook’s lips. “No more fake. Just us.”

“Does this mean…”

“Means I was stupid.” Yoongi half-heartedly punches Jungkook in the arm. “Only one of us can be stupid.”

A childish grin forms on Jungkook’s mouth. “Glad you’re accepting that you’re the stupid one in this relationship.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, leans in to kiss Jungkook again. “I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth. He hopes Jungkook savors his moment, because there’s no way in hell that Yoongi is saying that again.

“Wanna get married?”

“Weren’t we always meant to do that?”

++

Mornings are slow, waking up beside Jungkook. He clings to Yoongi like a koala, and Yoongi drags him around the apartment, only managing to shake him off long enough to shower. Jungkook has always been like that, but being in a relationship with him has only heightened this habit. Yoongi hardly cares, though. Much to his horror, he’s actually quite fond of Jungkook being half-asleep, begging for morning kisses.

Breakfast is better. Jungkook is more awake with food in the system. He doesn’t talk much and neither does Yoongi. This is the same—it’s a steady norm. Yoongi is grateful that most things haven’t changed. They kiss and touch more often, that’s definitely new. Yoongi can tease Jungkook for more things, and Jungkook doesn’t hold back on the jokes either.

The biggest, most surprising change is the fighting.

Well, okay, Yoongi shouldn’t really call it that. It’s arguing, yes, but they never really yell at each other. It’s just about little things, like what cuisine to order for dinner or which brand of milk they should buy at the grocery store or who’s bed they’ll sleep in that night. Before, Yoongi found himself giving into Jungkook’s wants—but he’s grown to have his own desires, and he likes to fight for them.

Jungkook usually wins in the end, anyway. It’s a curse that Yoongi’s become weak for his puppy dog eyes again, like he didn’t build the stamina for six years just for it to crumble after a week of not fake-dating him. Or fake-engaging. He’s not sure what term to use.

Even in Yoongi’s new job, he ends up feeling Jungkook everywhere. There’s a picture of him framed on his desk (gross, he knows) and he comes by after work every Friday to pick Yoongi up. Jungkook is known to be the hopeless romantic of their friend group, but Yoongi never thought he would be on the receiving end of it. He can’t say he doesn’t like it.

Their friends take to the news, unsurprisingly, like they take to anything else Yoongi and Jungkook do.

“What?” Taehyung shouts, the first to react verbally. They’re in Jimin’s apartment tonight, spread across the living room for movie night. “Like. For real this time?”

“Not fake,” Jungkook says, smiling at Yoongi with light in his eyes. Stupid light. Yoongi’s become a bit of a romantic himself, although he doesn’t really say anything about it.

Yoongi pokes Jungkook in the ribs. They’re sitting on the floor, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Jungkook insisted they be as close as possible while they tell everyone, but Yoongi knows he only wants the physical attention. “Isn’t he such a loser for dating me?” Yoongi asks, smiling up at him anyway, feeling like such a winner on the other hand.

“This is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.” Jimin stands, calm, yanking Yoongi’s right arm to pull him away from Jungkook. “You must be at least five feet away from each other. No touching or kissing or gazing into each other’s eyes or other weird Yoongi-Jungkook things.” Yoongi links his other hand with Jungkook’s, pulling himself in the opposite direction of Jimin.

“We won’t be a bother!” Jungkook pouts, pulling Yoongi close to his chest, rubbing his back protectively. Yoongi squirms to get out of the grasp, disheartened by the attention on them. It already felt weird to gather them in a room and tell them like this. “I promise, really. Let us touch, at least. He’s mine.”

Yoongi elbows his way out of Jungkook’s hold and crosses his arms. “You don’t own me,” he says pointedly, glaring at him. “I am my own person.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me who bought that ring on your finger and then we’ll talk,” Jungkook says, nodding his head a little, taking Yoongi by the shoulders to guide him to an empty spot on the couch. “You’re mine. Ask me if I give a shit.”

“You’re kinda mean as a boyfriend,” Namjoon says, a bewildered expression as he observes the interaction. Hoseok’s expression is still morphed in horror, which isn’t all that fair, because everyone else was so nice when he and Namjoon announced their relationship.

Jungkook glares and Namjoon backs down. They all have this disgusting soft spot for Jungkook. Yoongi thinks that was how he fell in love with him.

“Let’s turn off the light and watch before I throw up,” Seokjin says, flipping off the lights. Jungkook snuggles into Yoongi’s side and buries his nose in Yoongi’s neck.

Halfway through the movie, as silence sits through everyone’s minds, someone pinches Yoongi on the bottom of his foot. He looks up—it’s Hoseok, moved away from Namjoon dead asleep in his seat, peering up at him from the floor. Yoongi glances at Jungkook, eyes glued to the screen, and leans down to Hoseok’s level.

“You serious with him, hyung?” Hoseok asks, hushed tone, words rushing over Yoongi’s mind. The question sparks a minuscule amount of doubt and anxiety, but it fades just as quick as it arrived.

“Of course I am.” Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hoseok sighs, shaking his head. “Not implying that I thought you wouldn’t,” he whispers, then sucks in a breath through his teeth. Yoongi catches Jimin glancing at them, but soon refocuses on the TV. “I’ve known him longer than you, that’s all. I worry. About him and about you.”

Yoongi smiles, grateful to have such caring friends. “Hoseok-ah,” he says, “it’s okay. I love him. It’s okay.”

“You do?”

“So much I want to throw up and die at the same time.”

Hoseok grimaces. “Okay, gross. I’ll leave you to that, I guess,” he says, squeezing Yoongi’s ankle once before crawling his way back to his own partner.

Yoongi settles back into Jungkook, tucked close to his warm body, sleepy eyes watching the screen flash dramatically between scenes. He closes his eyes, shifts closer to Jungkook in order to rest his head in the crook of his neck. He quickly learned that it’s one of the most comfortable spots on Jungkook’s body. The soft flesh of his neck, the way his cologne clings to his body, sweet and soothing.

Yoongi stays there for the rest of the movie, pretends to be asleep long enough that Jimin tells everyone to sleep over. He’s abandoned on the couch for a while; left with a blanket over his body, head resting precariously on a pillow. The quiet noise of everyone preparing for bed fills Jimin’s apartment, while Yoongi lies still on the couch, feigning sleep. He already heard Jungkook say, “He’s asleep, hyung, don’t,” when someone suggested waking him.

He only moves when Jungkook moves him. Yoongi knows it’s Jungkook by his scent and the familiar touch, letting his eyes flutter open when his body touches the floor.

It’s dark now. Jungkook lies down on Yoongi’s left, folding one arm behind his head, phone in the other hand. His little pout as he scrolls through it, maybe reading something or watching videos on mute, Yoongi is never sure which one. He’s cute.

Yoongi presses his lips together, leaning closer to kiss his bare shoulder. He wishes he could see the tattoo. Jungkook glances over and lowers his phone, setting it aside.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says, tucking hair behind Yoongi’s ear. His fingers are gentle, brushing over Yoongi’s skin in a way that makes him feel special.

“I’m good at pretending,” Yoongi replies as Jungkook turns onto his side. “Why lift a finger when my not-fake fiancé is hot and strong enough to do it for me?”

Jungkook laughs, breathy and quiet. The others must be fast asleep now—Namjoon is, at least, with his obnoxiously loud snoring traveling through the walls. “Is that all I am?” he asks, fingers prodding the flesh of Yoongi’s stomach. His hands are warm to Yoongi’s cold skin. Yoongi leans into the touch, bumps his nose into Jungkook’s. “Hot and strong? Am I that one dimensional?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi says, finding Jungkook’s pretty eyes in the darkness. Shining, almost smiling at him. For him, maybe. “You’re… nerdy enough to fix a computer.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry, I mean smart enough.” Yoongi snickers under his breath. “You’re kind enough to let me use the shower before you.”

Jungkook hums. “Basic decency,” he says. “I did that before, too.”

Yoongi grins a little. He likes this game. “You’re stupid enough to fall for me.”

“You’re the stupid one.”

“Stupid for you.”

Jungkook groans, still quiet. He hides his face in Yoongi’s hair, shaking with silent laughter. Yoongi bites down on his lip, keeping it to himself too. Jungkook kisses the side of Yoongi’s head and sighs, tracing his fingers over Yoongi’s spine. Yoongi does the same to Jungkook’s rose bush tattoo, over the buds and pointy stems.

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi mumbles, entranced by him. By his beauty and his heart and his love that runs deep in Yoongi’s bones. “Thank you for falling in love with me.”

“What?”

Yoongi pouts. “I’m not fucking saying it again.”

Jungkook sighs. “Hyung,” he says, kissing him on the lips. It’s short, but long enough to leave Yoongi smiling in the absence of his lips. “Say it again. Please.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi repeats, “for falling in love with me.”