Chapter Text
Jungkook literally just needed to fulfill a general education requirement.
Being a self-starter and generally mediocre student, Jungkook had wanted to get his gen-eds out of the way – especially because of his university’s jank rule that he needed ten whole credits dedicated solely to math or science classes.
It’s a first world problem that Namjoon-hyung doesn’t really understand, with him getting a master’s degree in actual rocket science and all, so Jungkook prefers to complain about his final required class to Seokjin-hyung, who is so far removed from college life it’s genuinely refreshing.
jungkook 14:52:06
pick up the phone old man
seokjin 14:58:45
Don’t be rude
jungkook 14:58:57
oh my god call me
jungkook 14:58:57
old man-hyung
seokjin 14:59:03
Bitch I swear
Jungkook ignores the expletive by jamming his pointer finger into his phone, finally calling Jin. He picks up fairly quickly, barely getting out a “Hel—” before Jungkook is dumping information on him, ranting about his meeting with his academic advisor, who had somehow convinced him in the span of 30 minutes that NSCI310: Introduction to Behavioral Neuroscience was the best class to fulfill his final gen-ed.
Behavioral. Neuroscience.
He can hear Jin’s choked windshield-wiper laughter before: “Super applicable for your major,” he quipped.
“Fuck off,” Jungkook bit out. “I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.”
“Oh?” Jin said. “Whoa, what could be worse than learning practical information about the organ that basically controls your entire being?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes so hard he definitely got close to detaching his own retina. “Once more, fuck off,” he said sternly, before dropping the other shoe. “Dude. It’s the same TA.”
After a moment of silence on the other end, Jungkook could hear the faintest chuckle.
“Oh no,” Jin said, no sympathy in his voice. “Fate has spoken her truth and she said: Bitch hours are over.”
“I am not a bitch, but I am about to drop out of this university. You know I would.”
“Ugh, don’t be a baby,” Seokjin scoffed out. “It’s a class about the human brain, it’ll probably be creepy, and depressing, and you probably won’t pop a boner right before office hours like you did last semester. I have faith in you, Kook.
The statement was met with burning silence.
“Friendship cancelled,” Jungkook bit out.
He stabbed his finger at the end call button before throwing his phone onto his bed, about to tear his hair out. He opened his laptop to his course schedule again, burning a hole into his laptop screen as he stared at the name in the TA slot, directly under his professor’s.
Min Yoongi.
Fucking Yoongi-ssi.
Jungkook did not go to office hours after he, in Seokjin-hyung’s disgusting words, “popped a boner.”
First of all, the boner incident wasn’t even completely his fault – how was he supposed to know that Yoongi would be wearing the leather jacket with the black skinny jeans to office hours? And second of all, nothing makes Jungkook move faster than onset panic, so he was out the door the second his dick even considered making itself known.
The only issue with his impromptu exit was that the class Yoongi had been TAing for that semester, Introduction to Psychology, had an insane (normal) professor that decided to make going to office hours once per semester mandatory. But thankfully, his exam scores allowed him a little leeway, so he begged it off via email and avoided getting points shaved off his final grade.
Listen, the moment he realized he didn’t just want to aggressively hook up with Yoongi in one of the graduate student lounges in the library — rather, wife him up — he immediately considered withdrawing from the class. Therefore, freaking out and running out of the psychology building at 1pm on a Friday was rational and an extremely calm response to Jungkook.
After that realization (which had taken place during Yoongi’s lecture on audition, aka effectively making Jungkook pop an emotional boner because of how passionate the man was while speaking on music therapy), Jungkook blasted through the class by avoiding eye contact with his TA on a thrice-a-week basis and getting fairly great grades in the class so he didn’t have to ever “Ask for clarification on Question 55!” like fucking Hyunjae did after every exam review.
(In her defense – he, of all people, got it. Yoongi was definitely that TA.)
If he were honest with himself, he didn’t even have the confidence to flirt with Yoongi that blatantly.
Also, Yoongi is wildly homosexual, if his loud nights out on Tequila Tuesday (the gayest day of the week) with his dancer friends and the rainbow pin permanently on the lapel of his leather jacket mean anything.
God, Jungkook is haunted by that pin.
The first time he saw it was in sophomore year, before he even knew Yoongi’s name, during a late-night happy hour at one of the bars near main campus. He had dragged Namjoon out, praying that one of them would finally break the celibate streak of their respective semesters, and they had both gotten tanked off the pitcher special ($4 Long Island Iced Teas make Jeon Jungkook a messy bitch and Kim Namjoon gayer than usual).
So naturally, at 10pm on a Thursday, as a very drunk Jungkook and Namjoon were yelling into the speakerphone, leaving a voicemail for Seokjin to come meet them (they were so drunk they forgot he was home for the weekend), Jungkook caught sight of the pin for the first time.
With something so tiny, it was most likely meant to be a subtle nod to the owner’s sexuality without outing him immediately. Jungkook’s done the same before, has worn a rainbow accessory or two to the bars just in case someone picks up on it and wants to be gay with him.
But on this man, whose entire outfit was made up black clothing, the pin was the only thing he could see. And it was so endearing, to see this man dressed in the darkest colors with the brightest allusion pinned to his jacket. So Jungkook let his gaze drag over Yoongi’s form a little too long as he and his friends made their way to the bar, past his and Namjoon’s table.
He wasn’t alone though, thank fuck, because Namjoon had promptly stopped babbling in Seokjin’s voicemail box the second Yoongi and company passed by, his hand pushing through his hair and moving it away from his flushed face.
“Um—” Namjoon stuttered out. Jungkook definitely agreed.
He was just so distracted by the man – maybe he was just plastered, but he couldn’t get over how well the shock of blond hair worked on him, the way his jeans fit very well to his thighs, his almost obnoxiously cool Doc Martens that looked like some sort of art exhibit, the way a laugh spilled out of his cute little mouth as he gently hit his friend on the shoulder and suddenly Jungkook’s stomach was doing weird clench-y, flippy-over things that usually only happened before formal critiques in his classes when he knows he crammed on a project.
Namjoon’s head slammed into the space in between his neck and his shoulder. Jungkook huffed out a laugh as Joon started complaining, low in his ear.
“That guy is so hot,” he muttered, dragging out his vowels, and Jungkook tensed as he realized how close the three men were to them. The last thing he needed was to make drunken eye contact with the hottest art hoe he’s ever seen while Namjoon was practically drooling on his shoulder.
“I’m so gay,” Namjoon continued, louder.
Jungkook let out a panicked giggle, feeling dizzy, the fear still settled under his veins but distracting himself via: more sips of something that really shouldn’t be called iced tea. “Me too, hyung,” he announced, a small part of him hoping.
He kept an eye on the bar as he sipped his drink, maintaining his gaze on that distracting blond hair; debating whether or not he could ball up tonight and buy the dude a drink, at least. But too soon, all three men were served their drinks and Jungkook was left to turn quickly to Namjoon and pretend like they had been in conversation that entire time, blurting out a “I wish Seokjin-hyung had picked up his stupid phone.”
Instead of leaving, the men all turned and leaned against the bar, surveying the rest of the room. Jungkook could feel them each regard him and Namjoon as Namjoon let his weight drop against his side again.
“He’s got a heart mouth,” Namjoon sighed out. Right at that moment, Jungkook snapped his gaze over to the men on instinct, making direct eye contact with the blond man before quickly snapping his gaze to a heart-shaped mouth that was smiling in their general direction.
“…very sweet,” the mouth said, loud enough for Jungkook to understand he was being spoken to. His eyebrows flew up. “You two are a sweet couple,” the mouth continued.
The fuck—
“I—what,” he said desperately, as Namjoon suddenly scooted away from him with a weird laugh, his fingers pushing up into his hair again.
“Uh – no,” he heard Joon say. “Not a couple, ha-ha,” he continued, slurring the tiniest bit before faking another odd laugh.
The mouth frowned slightly, the owner of the mouth most likely assuming they were homophobic or some shit. Before that painful exchange could continue, Jungkook’s mouth opened of its own accord and stupid, stupid words fell out of it.
“Yeah, we’re not dating,” Jungkook’s traitor mouth said. “I mean, we’re gay.”
Shut up.
“Not together, though.”
Shut up. Holy shit.
“Like, we’re gay but not together. We are independently gay?” His last statement lilts upward, as if he’s asking these three unfairly attractive men if he’s allowed to be gay. Which, after this horrific encounter, is a valid question.
There’s a weird moment of silence, and he can feel Namjoon’s eyes boring into the side of his head.
The other attractive man in the middle lets out a very soft giggle, the closest laugh Jungkook’s ever heard to tinkling bells in his life, and starts to move away from the bar.
“It’s okay, baby gay,” the man says, but it doesn’t feel patronizing at all. Maybe the blow is softened by his pastel pink hair or something.
Blondie and Heart-Mouth decidedly do not speak further, and they all move away to the center of the floor, most likely to dance and continue to be attractive members of society. But Jungkook caught an eyebrow raise from the blond man right before he turned away, and the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Jungkook’s stomach does a hard flip.
A slow minute passes, with Namjoon and Jungkook both a little in shock.
Namjoon nudges Jungkook’s side.
“Yo, you know that confident gay-panicked gay meme?” Joon asks, picking up the remainder of his drink.
Jungkook nods woodenly.
“We are both the panicked gay in that situation,” he states, before downing the rest of his drink.
Jungkook nods again, reaching out for his own glass and mirroring Namjoon.
The man’s smile is burned behind Jungkook’s eyelids.
He blearily comes across a similar-looking rainbow pin at the comic book shop by his apartment the next day and lets himself buy it. He puts it on his backpack for a solid 52 hours or so before his fall semester starts, and Jungkook is not only blessed with the look of mild recognition on his TA’s face during the first class meeting of Introduction to Psychology, but he gets a name as well.
It’s almost worth the hot red blush that spreads across his cheeks the second Yoongi makes unfortunate eye contact with him, when that little smile plays across his lips for a moment before it’s gone just as fast as it came.
Just like the pin. Which is now buried in his nightstand drawer under the loose condoms he got from Pride last year that are definitely expired.
ｍｏｎｄａｙ
On a real note, if Jungkook was ever allowed the privilege to call Yoongi hyung, it would be over. For his jeans.
He would cream his jeans.
He absolutely hates being that student. The one that regularly shows up to class and sits in the front-right section because his “eyesight is shit” and he “has to sit near the board,” not because his hot TA sits on the left side of the room and it would be hard to sneak glances at him up that close.
He doesn’t actually want to risk a hard-on every single time that Yoongi leads a class on his own, without the help of the professor (essentially every cursed Friday class). He hates getting so tense when Yoongi casts a glance across the room, gaze moving over him, looking for participants to answer his incredibly easy questions. And it’s the actual worst when Jungkook makes it to class early and he has to watch Yoongi’s preparation for the lesson, feeling like a voyeur watching him as he gets up from his seat to write a few key notes on the board.
Hyunjae is in this class too.
She prefers the front middle, because she sucks, but Jungkook is settled by the confirmation that this class will be a steady repeat of the last class he, Hyunjae, and Yoongi all shared: Jungkook will nearly never have to participate, because Hyunjae is a kiss-ass.
It’s the very first day of Behavioral Neuroscience, and neither the professor nor the TA are anywhere to be found. They’re probably upstairs in Hawker’s office, going over brain regions and rodent testing and other scary academic crap that Jungkook’s art major brain shuts down at. (Why is he in this class.)
He nervously takes out his notebook and trusted pens, setting them up on the shitty desk in front of him before turning his music up and stepping out of the room. Being early is being on time, apart from when you’re waiting for your personal demise.
Darting to the water fountain around the corner, he dilly dallies for as long as possible before checking the time. He’s still got three minutes before class absolutely has to start. dlwlrma comes on shuffle, but not even IU can settle Jungkook at this level of anxiety.
Yoongi probably doesn’t even remember Jungkook’s name. And if he does, he probably thinks Jungkook is a frat boy asshole who thinks he can bend the rules by sending a few choice emails.
He nervously bops around until the end of the song with a heavy pit in his stomach and makes his way back to the room. It’s not the biggest room in the hall, housing a maximum of 100 students, but when Jungkook checked this morning, there were only 60 people in the class.
When your main concern is eye contact with your TA in a class of 60 people, you know it’s fucking bad, mate.
He slips back into the room, pulling his headphones out of his ears as he makes the quick walk from the door back to his spot, front-right.
“Ah, lovely! I see some fresh and friendly faces today,” Hawker announced brightly. He was one of the older professors, safely tenured with a legitimate horde of graduate students under his belt in the labs. Jungkook pointedly made eye contact at that with a tiny smile, not wanting to be rude to the professor that gave him an A even with having skipped office hours.
“For ‘sylly week,’ as you gremlins call it, this is quite a good turnout!” Hawker continued. “But feel free to inform your slacker friends that attendance in this class is completely mandatory starting next week – I’m not Lucifer, I don’t want to kill your buzz, but show up to class.”
After some light chuckles, Hawker moved to his messenger bag, sprawled across the desk at the front of the room. He pulled out a thick stack of papers – Hawker was notorious for his 10-page double-sided syllabi – and handed it to Yoongi to pass out. Jungkook reflexively clenched his fist so hard he thought he would pop a vein.
“Alright, Yoongi is passing out syllabi, let’s get those circled around,” Hawker narrated. “If you haven’t had me before, the office is in Smyth Hall, Room 220. Write down and highlight my email. I don’t sleep, I know you don’t either. Be respectful and write to me with proper grammar,” he states, then pauses. “But you can talk to Yoongi however you want, I don’t care.”
Jungkook let out a huff of laughter. He’d almost forgotten Hawker’s weird dad jokes, famed on ratemyprofessor. Then he heard the rustle of papers behind him and realized Yoongi had already made his way to him.
He looked up just in time for Yoongi to stop in front of him, a little smile frozen on his face in response to Hawker’s quip, holding out a syllabus.
Yoongi was wearing the leather jacket over a soft, worn-looking hoodie (Yoongi’s preferred form of February clothing, he assumed). Jungkook reached out for the syllabus as his eyes dragged up Yoongi’s torso before landing on the fucking pin.
Something came over him.
“I like your pin,” he whispered conspiratorially, oddly no hesitation.
Yoongi paused.
“The textbook is very, very much required!” Hawker announced triumphantly. “Yes, I wrote it – I don’t care, it’s very good! However, if your financial situation disallows you the opportunity to purchase it, I will gladly get you a copy to borrow – the bookshelf in my office will be your best friend!”
Jungkook felt like he was about to black out, with Yoongi’s gaze resting so heavily on him as they both clutched at the papers between them. With a tug, he gently pulled it out of Yoongi’s hand and moved to pick up his pen to underline Hawker’s email eight times.
Yoongi let out a small laugh at Jungkook’s comment. He felt very stupid and very warm but hey – it’s more progress than Namjoon-hyung has ever made with Hoseok-ssi.
But there was still a little smile playing at Yoongi’s lips, and Jungkook was kind of the reason why it was there –
His brain was short circuiting.
Yoongi finally turned away to place the remaining stack of papers on Hawker’s desk as the professor introduced him to the class. Jungkook could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Yoongi hadn’t even said a word to him, and his brain had completely shut down. In a class about the fucking brain.
“The TA for this class is very good at his job. However, he is also extremely busy because I hired an absolute lunatic that has a double major in neuroscience and music production,” Hawker said calmly. “He looks like an Addams Family adoptee on a good day and a storm cloud on a bad one, but do not let that deter you from going to him for help.”
Yoongi scoffed, crossing his arms, that smirk still on his face. “You’re scaring them off, sir.”
Hawker nodded solemnly. “I have tenure. Introduce yourself.”
Jungkook lowered his gaze immediately, beginning a small doodle in the corner of his syllabus, right next to Yoongi’s name and office hours. It was most definitely not a chibi Yoongi.
“Hello, all,” Yoongi started, his low voice cutting through the room. “I’m Min Yoongi, but if you show up to office hours three times this semester like you’re meant to, you can call me Yoongi-ssi. That is a privilege you earn by being dedicated to this class and our stupid jokes.”
Jungkook aggressively shaded in the lowlights of chibi Yoongi’s hair.
“I got a lot of feedback after my last class that I was –” Yoongi cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms to do air quotes. “Uh, ‘scary,’ and ‘vampiric’?” Jungkook bit his lip, hard, so as not to smile. The latter descriptive had been drunkenly submitted online as a dare from Seokjin-hyung, and at the time had partially been a compliment and partially a plea for Yoongi to be the punk Edward to Jungkook’s Bella.
“Like Professor Hawker said, I’m not that terrifying – I really just prefer black clothing – and I would consider myself to be an incredibly good source to use if you want to pass this class without going completely bald,” he quipped. “I would highly, highly suggest not skipping out on our meetings.”
Jungkook’s eyebrow twitched at that, feeling targeted. For some reason, he didn’t feel like he’d be needing that much help with the course – it was another introductory class for a requirement, it’d probably be just like psychology. So what if he was sick every time he had a meeting with the TA? It happens sometimes. Very common in the bacterial cesspool of college campuses.
“Okay, leave,” Hawker said after glancing at his watch, moving back behind the desk and reaching for the stack of syllabi to shove back in his messenger bag. “Your homework is to warn your friends about the attendance policy and get the textbook before Friday. Yoongi will have the keys to my office this week and can let you in to sign one out.”
The room’s noise level reached peak hell as every student in unison started packing their bags aggressively, motivated by the early dismissal. Jungkook watched as Hyunjae shoved her books into her bag in order to run into place in the line that had already formed at Hawker’s desk. Yoongi, across the room, had his backpack firmly on his back and was hovering by the other exit waiting for everyone to disperse.
Jungkook decidedly does not meet his eyes, instead choosing to shove his headphones in his ears, his only plan before lunch to blast the ever-loving shit out of some Mamamoo to get his mind off the joke of a life he’s living.
ｍｏｎｄａｙ ａｆｔｅｒｎｏｏｎ
“That kid is texting me again,” Jungkook whines, letting his body slide off Namjoon’s bed a little more. Today had been so taxing, making eye contact with Yoongi, saying something incredibly stupid to Yoongi, and trying not to jerk off the second he got back to his apartment to the thought of Yoongi.
Namjoon being home helped a lot with that last bullet point. He still wanted to pass away in his sleep, though.
“What kid?” Namjoon muttered around the end of a pencil, leaned so far back in his office chair Jungkook thought the back would snap off. He was scoring a new song using his fancy new sheet music. He preferred that particular brand because the paper was softer or something. Softer paper. Jungkook understood nearly nothing about Joon’s hobby. Especially because it was totally unfair that Namjoon was both a genius rocket scientist and a genius songwriter. The closest he ever got to comprehension was when Joon played him a melody and asked him to sing it for his demos.
Jungkook felt his weight shift under him as he slipped further off the bed, head getting dangerously close to the hardwood floor. Were concussions bearable? More bearable than having to see his beautiful art hoe crush three times a week, at least?
“That kid Taehyung? I mean I think he’s older than me, but he looks like a cherub,” Jungkook explained. “We have Advanced Film Production and Digital Media II together this semester and he probably wants to pair up for the first assignment.”
Namjoon scoffed, leaning forward in his chair to jot down a messy melody. “Wow, so horrible that people think you’re cool and talented and want to work with you,” he said monotonously.
“Ugh, shut up rat, I don’t want friends,” Jungkook pouted. “I want dick.”
There was a vague choking sound coming from the area by Namjoon’s desk. Then they were making upside-down eye contact. “Rat?” Namjoon demanded.
“Rat-hyung,” Jungkook nodded solemnly.
“You’re the most annoying baby I know and I’m disappointed in myself for continuing to speak to you,” Namjoon huffed. “Anyway,” he continued, as Jungkook let his body collapse onto the floor headfirst. Ignoring the soft thunk of skull hitting hardwood, Namjoon crossed his ankles and tossed his pencil aside. “Grow up and ask him out.”
Jungkook threw his arms across his face, sighing loudly. “No. It’s a neuroscience class. He’s my TA. It’s unethical.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes, scooting his office chair closer to Jungkook’s crumpled form. “You know it’s probably more unethical to continue what you’re doing now, aka fantasizing about Yoongi’s dusty pink asshole three times a week for twelve weeks, rather than just ask out your crush.”
Jungkook choked, flinging his arms aside to make heated eye contact with Namjoon. “You are disgusting, sir.”
“I’m not the one undressing my TA with my eyes when I’m supposed to be learning about dementia.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
“Hm,” he offered, scooting around until he found himself in an upright position, against the frame of the bed. “Jung Hoseok,” he stated, bracing himself for the reaction.
Namjoon visibly stiffened. “Oh, come on,” he whined.
Jungkook nodded again. “Jung Hoseok,” he repeated.
“You fucking suck. Crushes are supposed to make people cute,” Namjoon muttered. “Why do crushes give you the personality of a scorned ex-wife?”
Jungkook stuck his tongue out.
“I’d gladly ask Yoongi-ssi out if you balled up and asked Hoseok-ssi on a date as well,” he countered, knowing this was Namjoon’s least favorite challenge. Jungkook’s posed it drunk, sober, during truth or dares, during bar crawls, during study dates – anytime, anywhere that Joon dared to confront him about Yoongi, Jungkook countered with those fated two words: Jung Hoseok.
“Excuse me bitch?” Namjoon bit out, as expected. “How the fuck am I supposed to speak to a man whose ‘In My Feelings’ challenge video ended up in Drake’s music video?”
Jungkook laughed, a little too loud, slowly pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh shit, yeah. I forgot about that,” he giggled. “Hoseok-ssi looked so cool in that video!”
Namjoon sighed under the weight of a thousand suns, rolling his eyes and turning his chair back to his desk.
“You don’t need a stupid conditional to ask Yoongi out, Jungkook,” Namjoon stated, tone dangerously close to ‘fatherly.’ “You’ve liked him for this long and the semester’s shorter than you think.”
Jungkook nodded, feigning that he was paying attention, tapping quickly at the face of his phone. “Mhm, yeah,” he offered.
“We all rely too much on the concept that we have time,” Namjoon continued, solemnly. “The truth is, time runs out, Kook. You really never know exactly how much time is left on your clock, how much time you have left to take that chance –”
Jungkook nodded rapidly, biting his lip as he laid eyes on the video he had been searching for. “True, valid,” he said as he pressed play.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” Namjoon began, only to falter at the sound of the introduction of the song suddenly blaring from Jungkook’s phone’s speakers.
The claps overlaying the beat signified exactly what song it was, and Jungkook could see Namjoon’s grip on his pencil tighten significantly.
“I love this song, bro,” Jungkook whispered, as Hoseok-ssi’s voice cut in for the first verse.
He was playing Namjoon’s absolute favorite video on the entirety of YouTube, the choreography video that Jung Hoseok had uploaded to accompany the Soundcloud release of his three song EP, Daydream. All three songs were bops, but the title track, Daydream, topped Airplane and Blue Side (Outro) for Namjoon in a heartbeat.
A former underground rapper who couldn’t dance for shit, Namjoon definitely felt very out of Hoseok’s league – even though the first time Jungkook heard one of Joon’s tracks, he legitimately thought he had fallen in love and developed the biggest crush for a solid month before realizing they were both tops. He kept that information to himself, though.
As the chorus approached, Namjoon turned his chair back around slowly, eyes resting on the top of Jungkook’s head.
“I wish this song weren’t such a bop,” he sighed out. “But I get your point.”
Jungkook nodded at him as if to say yeah bro, this is like the eighteenth time we’ve had this interaction before Joon opened his mouth again, sounding like he was trying to write a Fall Out Boy song title.
“How can I tell you to follow your heart and pursue your crush when my crush intimidates me to the point that I’ve written like eight songs for him over the course of six months and haven’t sent him any of them?” Namjoon lamented, pencil still gripped tightly in his hand. Oh fuck, he was about to go off on his nihilistic bullshit, wasn’t he?
Jungkook held a hand up firmly, closing out of the YouTube app and effectively ending the song. “Don’t start, please,” he begged. “We can’t go there.”
Namjoon paused, mouth open.
Jungkook shook his head, hand still raised. “We can, however, go to a bar.” He slowly raised his other hand and jabbed two finger guns at Namjoon.
“It’s like 3pm on a Monday. Do you not have any other classes today?” Namjoon questioned, eyebrows hallway up his forehead.
Jungkook shook his head. “The art department obeys sylly week. What are you, judging me?”
Namjoon shook his head, finally tossing his pencil away.
“Nah. Let’s get fucked up.”
seokjin 15:53:03
I know you weren’t actually serious about cancelling our friendship you little shit
But your silence is DEAFENING
Let’s hang out
Jungkook had ended up inviting that kid Taehyung to the bars with him and Namjoon. The introduction of a new, random person had thrown him off his game immediately, even though he had gotten himself into that situation of his own volition. Taehyung was an interesting dude. So interesting that Jungkook honestly had not thought about Seokjin once, which is more than he can say for the general population. So he didn’t feel too bad about accidentally ghosting him — but bad enough to text back, lightning-fast:
jungkook 15:54:15
we r at spurs
get your gay cowboy on
bring cash
there’s another dude here he’s really artsy
please don’t take him to bed
Jungkook added a string of yeehaw emojis before grabbing his terrifying sangrita (sangria and a frozen margarita – God has forsaken His children) and swallowing as much as he could down before the sudden onset of a brain freeze.
Shuddering, he clenched his teeth as his phone lit up with a text from Jin. Taehyung was gesticulating as he recounted a story about visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City and shedding a movie-ready tear as he saw the Degas statue for the first time. Namjoon was enamored, but in a weird intellectual type of way, smiling around the rim of his pint glass.
seokjin 15:56:02
Don’t be rude
You’re buying me a drink Kook
I successfully opened another restaurant today!
Also I stopped fucking art majors like two weeks ago
Attached to the last text was a .gif of a cartoon otter clapping with little hearts exploding out of its head.
Jungkook blinked a couple of times at the .gif before a little smile broke across his face and he tilted the phone over to Namjoon’s eye line. The phone screen caught Namjoon’s gaze and his brow furrowed before he couldn’t help but let a smile break out across his face, and then Taehyung was asking what was on his phone, and Jungkook’s cheeks were a little too warm –
He promised to text Taehyung the photo so he could have it before shooting back another string of texts to Seokjin.
jungkook 15:59:48
you’re seriously one of the most terrifying people ive ever met tbh
who just drops that casually in conversation
and thank god the art department was quaking
get your ass to spurs
seokjin 16:01:32
On my way!
Have a Cosmo waiting for me please ♡
I loooove you Kookie
jungkook 16:02:03
cool i just puked on myself
seokjin 16:05:58
I’m in the uber
pleeeease a cosmo I’d die for you
jungkook 16:06:21
literally shut up i ordered it five minutes ago
seokjin 16:06:50
♡
Seokjin-hyung entered rooms knowing that at least 60% of its inhabitants were going to do a double-take when he came in. It felt like every bartender knew him because Seokjin would actually blow kisses at whichever one made eye contact with him, but of course they all loved it and were left all blushy afterwards.
His power was absolutely terrifying.
Jungkook raised a hand to signal to Jin where their table was, and Namjoon made a pleased noise when he saw the silver coiffed hair bopping towards them.
Seokjin straight up looked like he was going to the Met Gala. Obviously, he had just had a crazy day, having opened another version of his restaurant that morning, but there was no reason for him to look that good, in what was most likely a Dior sport coat, smelling like Versace.
“Hello, my sweet dongsaengs,” Seokjin announced as he slid into the booth next to Taehyung. Jungkook nudged the Cosmopolitan pointedly towards Jin, who smiled and ruffled Jungkook’s hair. “I have had an exhilarating day, and I’m ready to get plastered. I hope we’re happy-drinking!”
Jungkook pushed Jin’s hand away just as Taehyung cocked his head in his direction, waving his hand a little before introducing himself. “Uh — hi, I’m Taehyung. I’m a junior film student and have classes with Jungkook,” he said. “Your hair is amazing.”
Jin smiled earnestly, nodding towards Taehyung as he took a long sip of the fruity cocktail in front of him. “Yes, thank you – I know,” he said, genuinely pleased. “I heard you appreciate art but haven’t heard much else as Kookie here is a lightweight and can’t text unless it’s an insult.”
“I’m going to give your new restaurant one star on Yelp, try me,” Jungkook said flatly, taking another swig of the frozen concoction in his glass.
“It’ll be buried by the droves of five stars we’ll be getting after this soft opening!” Jin announced triumphantly. “Get whatever’s in your ass out of your ass, you’re bringing the mood down.”
Taehyung huffed out a soft laugh, assuming this to be the norm when Kim Seokjin is around. “I do like art,” he offered, trying to swing the subject away from anything regarding anal. “I was just telling them about my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New Y—”
Seokjin perked up, grinning immediately. “The Met! I have a restaurant by there!”
Taehyung paused, mouth still forming the word “York,” unsure if Jin was suddenly bullshitting him.
“Yeah, seriously!” Jin continued, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s my second favorite one. There’s a double patio with heat lamps in the winter. Great décor, too. We went super classy to match the Upper East Side feel. There’s straight up a couple of Greek and Roman statues in there.”
Jungkook sighed. “You don’t have to flex on every new person you meet, Jin-hyung, you suck.”
“No—” Taehyung chirped up. Jungkook looked at him and could immediately see the new formation of stars in his eyes. Great. “That’s obviously super cool, could you tell me more about it?” he asked, unconsciously leaning in Seokjin’s direction.
“Blech,” Jungkook said, audibly. He scooted closer to Namjoon in the booth and further away from Jin. “Help me, hyung,” he whined, letting his head drop onto Joon’s shoulder. “Jin always steals my new friends and turns them into his groupies.”
“I can hear the pouty emoji in your voice right now,” Namjoon said, shifting slightly to down the last third of his beer.
“I am the pouty emoji right now,” Jungkook stated, voice flat and muffled against Joon’s shoulder. He knew that Seokjin and Taehyung were ignoring him and Namjoon because they had already moved on to talking about their favorite poets. Honestly, he was glad for the distraction. Hanging out with new prospective acquaintances always freaked him out, and he was already at his wits end with the new Yoongi debacle.
He let more of his weight drop against Namjoon’s side, settling in a little more. Maybe he was a lightweight now. He would never understand how alcohol truly affected his body, it wasn’t his fault he had an eye for aesthetics rather than anatomy and the stupid brain.
He tried really hard to not let his thoughts stray to Yoongi, the same way he had been trying not to let his thoughts stray to Yoongi since the last day of classes last semester. He spent two months convincing himself he would never see Yoongi again, refusing to give in to the temptation of lurking on Yoongi’s Instagram page except for when totally plastered, refusing to talk about him except in passing. It wasn’t even a valid crush, they had barely spoken. He was just a weird, random dude that commented on his TA’s rainbow pin.
Jungkook stared at the specials menu, blinking rapidly.
He wished this whole situation didn’t feel like a second chance, but there was no way he could just start hanging out with Yoongi. There were probably clear rules against that in Yoongi’s job description, and why would Yoongi be interested in spending time with him in the first place?
Namjoon shifted under him again, jostling him gently. He leaned a little into the mop of hair on Jungkook’s head. “Are you spiraling?” he whispered.
Jungkook let out a short breath, moving off Joon’s shoulder just as Taehyung’s head snapped to the side, a look of recognition sliding over his face. He shook his head, reaching for one of the glasses of water on the table.
“Hyung!” Taehyung called, waving both his arms over his head excitedly. “Sorry guys,” he addressed the table. “Those are my friends over there!”
Jungkook shrugged off Namjoon’s worried look before turning to see who Taehyung was calling, a polite smile lighting up his face.
“Yoongi-hyung!” he called. “Come here!”
One of Namjoon’s knees slammed into the underside of the table. Seokjin kept his composure but accidentally bit his cheek. Jungkook immediately felt the smile grow too tight on his face, turning into plaster, the fear settling into his veins immediately. Within seconds, the blond was standing at the side of their table, and Taehyung was reaching his hand out for a hi-touch.
“Hyung! I didn’t know you came to this bar,” Taehyung said excitedly, as if he had never seen Yoongi outside before. “And Jiminie and Hoseok are here too!”
Jungkook’s gaze snapped back to Namjoon, the smile still frozen on his face. Namjoon was looking past him, most definitely at Hoseok, and there was no way that the new arrivals hadn’t noticed that something was extremely off.
“Hi Tae,” Yoongi said, touching his hand to Taehyung’s gently. “We usually only come here for Tequila Tuesdays, but I just finished the first day of classes and dragged them out after their practice to celebrate.” He cast a glance over every member of the table, gaze lingering on Namjoon for a moment before making unwavering eye contact with Jungkook, whose heart was threatening to fall out of his ass.
His mouth was so dry. He needed to stop smiling. The smile immediately dropped off his face, and one of Yoongi’s eyebrows shot upwards. Great. Now he looked like a dick.
“You’re in my behavioral neuro class,” Yoongi said.
Jungkook’s life was coming to an end. He had half a mind to cause a scene and beg a patron of the bar to google the symptoms of a male heart attack, because he was overheating, his brain felt like an electrical failure, his hands were definitely shaking a little, and he was doing that restless leg thing. His brain was screaming a big, red exclamation point of panic.
A few moments too many passed before Jungkook intelligently offered: “Yes.”
“It’s a behavioral neuroscience class?” Namjoon asked indignantly.
Jungkook blinked, licked his lips, still staring into Yoongi’s eyes. “Yes.”
Namjoon snorted. “The things we do…”
Hoseok and Jimin exchanged a pointed look with each other, then with Taehyung. Hoseok’s gaze landed on the red tips of Namjoon’s ears. Taehyung looked at Namjoon, then Jungkook, then Yoongi, then Jungkook again.
He opened his mouth to diffuse whatever weird energy was being manifested, but was cut off by –
“Cool. Get the textbook,” Yoongi said, finally breaking eye contact with Jungkook. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled a debit card out. “I’d love to continue to stand here, but I need a drink before my brain explodes."
Taehyung closed his mouth, nodding. Namjoon nodded as well, catching Hoseok’s eye before nearly knocking over a water glass trying to pick it up.
“Mood,” Jungkook whispered, mostly to himself.
“Uh — thanks for saying hi, hyung!” Taehyung finally got out.
Yoongi nodded, moving away from their table. He put a hand by Jimin’s back to usher him away, Hoseok breaking eye contact with the side of Namjoon’s head and trailing after them. But of course, he made sure to give Jungkook both a heart attack and permanent jerk-off material for the rest of his life when he turned back to say, “See you in class on Wednesday, Jungkook. Don’t be late.”
Jungkook’s entire body was an erogenous zone.
Yoongi definitely knew his name.
The entire table waited in limbo until the three men had gotten a safe enough distance away before Seokjin’s squeaky laughter cut through the silence. “Oh my fucking god,” he choked.
“Did that actually just fucking happen?” Namjoon said, a little dazed. “What the fuck just happened?”
Taehyung regarded all three of them before shaking his head to himself in disbelief. There had been no way of knowing how this weird bar meet-up would go, but that had been interesting above all else. He just had the strangest inkling that something had gone terribly wrong, but twice over. He didn’t really understand all the panicked eye contact and what looked like zealous overheating, but Seokjin-hyung seemed to remain unbothered, so he just picked up his drink and finished it.
Jungkook, not giving a single shit that his random classmate was sitting across from him, huffed out a humorless laugh. “That fucker gets off on roleplaying, doesn’t he?” he let out, breathily.
The table erupted into laughter again, and Jungkook thoughts were forcibly turned to the dairy industry as a last-ditch effort to not file that entire interaction away as crywanking material for later.
Namjoon’s hand came down on his shoulder, and he was suddenly pulled into the man, nestled against his chest, entire body shaking with the giggles. “We live awful lives,” he said, his arms quite literally the only thing tethering Jungkook to reality at the moment.
Jungkook sighed deeply. “Odds are: Death pact on three?” he said, hopefully. “One…two…thr—”
Namjoon hit him gently on the side of the head. “Vetoed.”
Seokjin waved his hands wildly in front of the two men, nearly elbowing Taehyung in the jaw. “Okay, now we can really get to drinking,” he announced, already waving the waiter over.