Archive of Our Own

The sound of the intercom startles Yoongi out of his sinuous thoughts. 

He’s still not used to the new gadget. It’s a smart lock and also a buzzer; the noise is weird. The beep seems awkward and out of place in the comfort of his studio.

He pushes the headphones aside, unsure if he’s really heard it or not. His ears feel hot and itchy from how long he’s had the thing over his head, although it’s been mute for quite a while now. He has no idea how long.

People think Yoongi is always working but the truth is that most of his time inside the Genius Lab is spent looking at the walls. Or slumped over his chair with his eyes closed. … Or watching cat videos on Youtube. 

Marinating ideas— that’s how he likes to think of it. 

Eh, half of the time that is bullshit, of course. Sometimes you just get dry. 

But music is not the only reason why he stays here. It’s his favorite place on Earth. Workaholic persona aside, he just really likes the space. There’s a couch and all of his personal knick-knacks that make him feel like he’s found his spot in the world. Because he did. He’s got new cool purple lights and everything now. A good chair.

Too many plastic bottles, maybe. But he recycles! 

He could be cleaner, to be honest. He isn’t. 

Anyway, it’s a sacred space and Yoongi loves it. He loves having people around, too. In his own terms, of course. When he’s in the mood. That’s why his friends usually feel comfortable knocking on his door — or pressing a button or whatever —, but they know not to overstay their welcome. It’s a good balance. 

Only one person can come and go as he wishes. And lately his wishes have been to be anywhere but here. 

The intercom sounds again. Ah. He really did hear it before, then. He looks at the clock on his computer screen. It makes him ache.

Yoongi knows who it is. Not because there’s some special way Jungkook presses the fucking button — come on now — but because of the time. 

It’s around the time he usually comes here. Or used to. Like until last week. Before he started using the intercom like a random person.

How can so much change in eight days? Yoongi doesn’t fucking know. Eight days ago Jungkook just barged in— as he was supposed to. As he’s been supposed to since circa 2016. 

Why doesn’t he do that now? Yoongi would like to know too. 

See, this is why you don’t fuck people you work with. That shit can’t go right. 

It hadn’t even been going on for long. What, three months? Four? Something like that. 

Now, four months in twelve years is almost nothing. Too short of a time to send everything to shit without any explanation. 

A week ago Jungkook was balls deep in him right here in this freaking studio. Now suddenly he doesn’t even spare a glance in his direction.

Like. What the fuck. 

Why did Yoongi think this would be a good idea? Fucking one of his band mates? Because he’s a dumbass, yes. And touch starved. Too busy for dating and also too uninterested. 

And it wasn’t any band mate. It was Jungkook.  

Yoongi has always had a soft spot for him, everyone knows that. And, fuck, Jungkook is hot, have you seen him? He used to be this scrawny little thing with big nose and huge eyes, their baby — he still is, fuck him if he gets grumpy about it — but now he’s hotter than the depths of hell. 

(Yoongi ain’t blind, alright.)

And he’s still so sweet, too. 

Also Yoongi might have fallen in love with him somewhere along the way of the last… Maybe five years…? 

You know, as one does. 

But that’s fine! Honestly. 

Then they started fucking around. 

Yes, a little stupid, but not the end of the world. And now they don’t do that anymore. At least Yoongi doesn’t think so, because Jungkook barely talks to him these days. 

And okay maybe an eight-day period isn’t much, but they’d be fucking five times a week before that happened. So the crash was massive to him. 

More buzzing. Yoongi might actually hate the sound of this thing now that he thinks about it. 

He stands up slowly. Reluctantly. He doesn’t want to open the door.

Whatever. Grow up, Min Yoongi. 

Actually, don’t grow up, just act your age, for god’s sake. You’re thirty years old. 

They are Bangtan fucking Sonyeondan. They are in this shit for life. 

Whatever awkwardness that lingers between them will dissipate with time. Yoongi really believes that. They’ve lived in each other’s pockets for too long. They are best friends. It will be fine. 

He just wishes he knew what he did to cause this, because he has no clue. He’d undo it in a heartbeat if he did, trust him. Not because of the sex — although the sex was very nice. Jungkook is so hot, so good with his tongue, too, who would have thought (Yoongi. And half a billion people out there, too.) — but mostly because they are friends. And that’s way more precious, of course.

Jungkook probably got tired of it and feels too uncomfortable to say it. Which. Kinda shitty. But fine, it’s not the end of the world, either. It really isn’t. They just need to get some closure and Yoongi is positive things will go back to normal in a month. Two months tops.

They have to. They are literally BTS. There’s nothing they can’t do.

It’s a little weird to be peptalking himself in the middle of his studio where Jungkook obviously can see through the glass door. 

He presses the intercom again. Little shit. 

Yoongi will definitely be changing this lock again. It’s fucking irritating. 

He finally walks the four steps separating him from the door. His hands are clammy now. 

Sure enough Jungkook is standing on the other side. Yoongi could see him just fine, too. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

Why did he fucking come then?

“Yes?” Yoongi inquires, with his hand still on the doorknob. Even his voice sounds awkward. Ugh. He can’t wait to be past this.

Jungkook shows a take-out bag he has in his hand. Oh. Yoongi hadn’t noticed that. “I— I brought dinner,” he stutters. “Hyung hasn’t left the studio in ten hours.”

How does he even know that? Yoongi didn’t. 

He can’t deny he feels a little happier. Actually, a lot happier. He shuffles aside. “Come on in, then,” he mumbles. It’s going to be awkward, but at least they can talk about it. It’s better than the last week they had.

“Oh, no,” Jungkook shakes his head. “I already ate with Taehyung—,” he lifts the bag, trying to push it into Yoongi’s hand, who refuses to take it. “There’s only enough for one. It’s for you.”

And you know what? 

Yoongi has had quite enough of this bullshit. He’s tired of being jerked around like this, what the fuck! They should be better than this. He’s thirty.  

He grinds his teeth together to prevent any curses from spilling out. “Get in. We need to talk.”

He hates pulling the hyung card with any of the guys. They are way past that. The only time either Jin-hyung or Yoongi do it is to feed or coddle them when they are being too hard on themselves. Never to belittle them or push them. They are friends.

But if Jungkook wants to be a little asshole then well. Yoongi has no other option. 

They are adults, they have to be able to deal with a problem they created! It’s not the end of the world, he refuses to let it get that far.

He doesn’t wait to see if Jungkook is following him. He’s more than familiar with every different quirk of Yoongi’s voice by now — they’ve heard each other moan, for fuck’s sake —, he knows when not to argue. 

He walks inside with his head hanging low and his shoulders so high, he’ll probably need to stretch before bed. Damn.

“Sit,” Yoongi directs. He himself doesn’t sit because he can’t. He paces, watching as Jungkook drops his body in the middle of the couch where they were all over each other eight days ago. Incredible. 

Yoongi paces some more. 

Jungkook just looks so awkward, what if—

What if he realized Yoongi has feelings for him and freaked out?

He stops pacing. Oh. He watches Jungkook wearily. Now that would make sense. 

Still. Not cool. Couldn’t they have dealt with this a little better? What are more than ten years of friendship for?

Nothing apparently.

“Well,” he says, pacing again. “You’re obviously not gonna start— Or, you know, say a fucking thing, so—.” He rubs his forehead tiredly. “Since you won’t, then I’ll do it. For the sake of closure. I think it will be good for us.”

Jungkook looks so uncomfortable, Yoongi almost pities him. But he doesn’t because he has no reason to be acting like this.

“Can you unclench?” He huffs. “It’s just me!”

Jungkook doesn’t, in fact, unclench. He looks paler by the second. But he still nods to show he’s listening. “Y-yeah,” he says quietly. “Closure.”

Yoongi stares at him. Then he goes back to pacing. “We need to stop this— Well, we stopped already, I guess,” he corrects himself. He’s ending something that is already over. But he’s got to do it, because his brain, his heart, his dick and his ass did not get the message yet.

Maybe he’s the only one who needs this, because of his feelings. But whatever, Jungkook is his friend and he ought to give Yoongi this, at least. It’s fair. 

“We had fun, it was good. Then it stopped being fun,” he recites. He’s been rehearsing this speech for at least two days now. 

Yoongi is a nervous person, alright. He likes to plan ahead. 

“Yadda yadda yadda,” he gestures widely with his hands. 

Right. Not that well rehearsed, evidently.

Jungkook has not moved a single muscle since he sat on the couch, Yoongi is almost sure. Maybe he isn’t even breathing and soon enough he’ll be purple in the face instead of pale like he is now. 

“For…,” he starts in a tiny voice. Yoongi almost steps closer to hear him better, but he doesn’t. Too many memories of being fucked right there! By that very guy! “For the sake of closure… Why?”

Yoongi squints at him. “Why what?”

“Why are you… Closing…? Things…,” Jungkook finishes awkwardly. 

That sentence makes no sense. Closing things? Is this a store?

“Like for closure,” Jungkook repeats, as if that explains it. It doesn’t.

“Things are over already,” Yoongi says. He grimaces because the words sound harsh, but well.

Aren’t they over? Of course they are. How can they fuck, if Jungkook will not even say ‘hi’ to him? Kinda difficult, isn’t it. 

“And I— Well,” he stops to consider if he really wants to do this. But yes, he does. Yoongi is not a mess, he’s a good person. He tries not to make things messier than they need to be. Human connection takes effort. “And I caught feelings. So.”

Jungkook’s eyes get wider— as if he needs that. “Oh,” he nods in a strange way, like he’s not aware of his body. He looks like one of those creepy dolls with bobbing heads. And like he’s about to throw up.

Oh? 

Yoongi swallows, feeling pathetic now. He hates himself for wanting to cry. There would be nothing wrong with crying, but Jungkook is being a real dick and Yoongi doesn’t feel comfortable crying in front of him now. 

And they are the best of friends. Not feeling comfortable in front of him after they’ve been so close for so long hurts more than anything. 

‘Oh?’ What kind of reaction is that?

Mixing sex with work was really such a shitty idea. But still. He’s sure they can get through this. 

“It’s… It’s fine,” he forces the words out. 

He’s pacing again; he hadn’t noticed it. He’s usually so still and quiet but at least this gives him something to focus on. “We’re friends and that’s more important to me. I’m sure everything will be fine in a little while, okay?” He tries to be reassuring even though he doesn’t feel reassured himself. 

He’s relieved for not living with Jungkook anymore, at least, and that makes him want to cry even more. It’s just a new feeling and he doesn’t like it. He takes a deep breath. “Seriously, Kook. No worries, alright? We’ve been through worse, it’s not the end of the world—”

“Who—”, Jungkook chokes on a cough or whatever that strange noise that just left his throat was. A little gross. “Who is it?”

Yoongi stares at him. He feels a little like a wind-up toy, because he keeps starting and stopping as if his clockwork is malfunctioning. 

He realizes he’s sweating; his armpits are warm and disgusting. The a/c is on, so he’s got no good reason for feeling like this just for pacing. 

He thinks back to everything he’s said in the last five (ten? Who knows? Who cares?) minutes and comes up empty. He doesn’t know what Jungkook means. “Who is what?”

“The… The person you caught feelings for.” 

Yoongi swallows again. Hard. He feels so humiliated. 

He can’t be serious.

They were fucking like eight days ago! They had been for months! Jungkook ate his ass right on that couch, what, two weeks ago?! How can he ask something like that, you know? That’s so disrespectful. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?!” He says angrily. He’s sure he’s never talked to Jungkook like this, but it’s well deserved. 

They have never been in this situation before. This nonsensical situation. So fucking stupid.

Jerking off, kids. Much better than fucking the wrong person.

Jungkook grimaces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—,” he makes a placating gesture with his hands, like Yoongi is being unreasonably aggressive. He sounds babie. Cute and a good boy even though he’s hot and so beautiful and his dick is so good. He sounds baby and sweet and— what the fuck! He stands up abruptly. So much so that Yoongi jerks back, startled. “Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Got it.”

Yoongi has gone through this before: a moment when you can feel your life splitting in two versions. Fuck, he’s gone through this way too many times. Coming to Seoul with no support, joining Big Hit, accepting to be part of an idol band even though that was definitely not what he was aiming for. Those went quite well.

This moment right here is not as dramatic, but it feels important, too. 

It’s just hard to let Jungkook walk away from him like this. To accept that he’s going to cross this doorway and then proceed to not talk to Yoongi for who knows how long until they can finally leave this behind. Because even though Jungkook has been kind of a dick for the past few days, he is Yoongi’s friend.

And he’s probably hurting, too, in some way. He might regret everything they did and that’s hurtful, too. Especially if you feel like you might have ruined something you didn’t mean to. Like a friendship as important as this one. 

So that’s why Yoongi instinctively reaches for his sleeve just when he’s about to step around him to walk to the door. He can’t accept that his life is about to split into two possibilities and one of them means Jungkook not talking to him for any period of time. 

They don’t do this in this band. Fuck, they don’t do this between the two of them. Jungkook is not a child anymore either.

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi whispers. “Wait.”

“Don’t, hyung,” he shakes Yoongi off, batting his hand away quickly, like he was waiting for it. “Just don’t.”

Oh, wow. Yoongi just can’t understand how they got here—

He nods because what else can he do? 

He can’t force Jungkook to do anything. “Okay,” he says idiotically, stepping back, away from him. He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out immediately. He tethers at the edge of this moment that feels so stupid and unnecessary, but maybe it’s just something he’ll have to get used to. 

“Hyung is sorry, okay?” He can’t help but say. “If I hurt you in anyway— I did not mean to.” The apologies are more than half for himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with it if he didn’t at least try. He watches as Jungkook’s shoulders get tense and then relax again. “I really never wanted it to become awkward like this—”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook interrupts him. Even though it is evidently very much not fine. Then he stops in his tracks, probably feeling guilty because he has never talked to Yoongi like that either. It’s not proper. Well, it wouldn’t be, if they cared about that. He sighs. “It’s not your fault you caught feelings for someone else.”

It’s there again, one of those moments. Life splitting in two right in front of him.

Yoongi could let it go. He could pretend that sentence doesn’t make him itch because it sounds wrong. No, but he can’t—

“Stop.”

This is the second time he’s used the hyung tone in less than fifteen minutes. He feels awful. But he had to or Jungkook would just leave. He’s grasping at straws here.

“Turn around.”

“Hyung—”

“Turn. Around.”

He can see Jungkook wants to argue but it's hard to fight the weight of social norms ingrained on you for so long. So he turns, even without wanting to. 

God, his jaw is so sharp and his eyes are so miserable. What the fuck. 

“What did you just say?” 

Jungkook frowns hard like Yoongi is being crazy as a personal offense to him. Even his chin is crinkled, it’s fucking cute. He shrugs like he doesn’t get it.

“Just repeat what you just said.”

He sighs. “It’s not your fault you caught feelings…?” He tries. It sounds like that sentence was stuck in his throat and he needed a lot of effort to pull it out of there.

“The other part.”

Jungkook rubs his face tiredly. “Shit, hyung, why are you doing this?” He changes his weight from one foot to the other and wraps his arms around his middle. He sounds a little more like himself now because Yoongi sounds more like himself, too. It’s much less suffocating. “This conversation is over already—”

“I know, I know,” Yoongi cuts him off. “Just— Just say it again, please.” 

“You’re being an asshole—”

“Well, you were a dick for eight days and you didn’t see me complaining, did you?!” Yoongi counters. 

Great. They are just being mean to each other now.

“I said,” Jungkook starts. Hurt and confused and a little mad, too, Yoongi can see. He’s not hugging himself anymore, he’s squeezing his hands into fists. “It’s not your fault you caught feelings for someone else.”

Yoongi goes back to pacing. It’s either this or hitting a wall. 

He’s not stupid— Okay, he is coming to understand that he might be just as stupid as Jungkook. But Yoongi is not, in general, a stupid person. He knows this guy in front of him; he’s watched him grow up. 

He observes Jungkook’s shiny eyes, his tense muscles. He looks sad. Still hanging in there because he’s made it his mission not to be a crying baby anymore — something he shouldn’t have to do, but that worked for his own protection —, but he looks really very sad. 

Now why would he look like that if he was the who—

This makes no sense.

“You wouldn’t even talk to me!” Yoongi accuses. “Not even a good morning I got!” He goes on. If he’s right… Honestly, if he’s right about this— “You!” He points at Jungkook like a lunatic. He walks closer to him, finally. Pokes him in the middle of his chest because he knows it will piss him off. “You fucking ignored me for days—”

“You were being weird,” Jungkook says defensively, pushing his hand off him. It’s good, at least they are touching. He’s confused, it’s obvious. He lost half of this conversation because Yoongi had it in his head. 

Well, fuck him! This idiot!

“I was being weird because you were being weird, Jungkook!”

“I wasn’t—”

“You started buzzing the fucking intercom—”

“You changed your fucking lock!” Jungkook raises his voice. His body unfurls, like he’s finally giving into what he’s feeling, finally letting it out in some way. The sound of his words ring. He wipes his eyes on his forearm, refusing to cry in front of Yoongi. “You were the one who was a dick, you just went and changed your lock out of nowhere—”

“Fuck, I didn’t know you were attached to the old one!” Yoongi’s voice raises despite himself, because he’s fucking dizzy with this stupid conversation. “It’s just a fucking pad with some buttons on it— Is it a sentimental thing? I had no idea—”

“You never gave me the new code.”

Yoongi gapes at him. “What?” 

He might rip every single strand of his luscious long hair right out of his head. And after all the time he let it grow, too. Unfair. Well, maybe he’ll rip Jungkook’s luscious long hair out, how about that. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You just locked me out,” Jungkook says. “One day I got here and you had changed the lock without telling me anything about it—”

“Kook—”

“I grew up here, too,” he goes on. “And then suddenly you decided to just cast me aside like that.” 

He doesn’t mean this studio in particular as a physical room in this building. No, he means all of Yoongi’s studios since the first time he could have one. Because all of those places will always fit inside his current one. Because he brings every Yoongi he’s ever been. And every Jungkook that ever was. 

It’s a symbol. It’s important to them. Yoongi honestly understands.

And it would make perfect sense for Jungkook to be this upset, but—

Yoongi tugs at his sleeve forcefully, dragging him outside. He can’t speak because he’s so angry. And miserable too, because he can’t understand how Jungkook thought he’d do something like that.

All this, it’s fucking stupid.

He bangs the door closed with as loud of a noise as he can, even though it was specifically designed not to make any. The pathetic thud is frustrating. “Open it,” he croaks, pointing at the new pad. 

He hates this thing with all his might. He’ll ax it into oblivion and then burn it for good measure.

“Fucking open this door, Jungkook.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut; two tears run down the side of his cheek. He probably feels stupid. If anyone walked by, he would look stupid to them, too. It’s not Yoongi’s intention, but it can’t be helped. 

This is a mess.

Jungkook punches in the exact same six digits he’s been punching in since they moved to this building. The light changes from red to green. The thing beeps mockingly. 

Yoongi wants to say Look at that, it’s open! but he also doesn’t want to rub salt on this wound that apparently was so deep he had to be treated like shit for a whole week. 

He steps around Jungkook’s limp form and walks inside again. He waits. 

“You didn’t have to treat me like that. Couldn’t you have asked—”

“No,” Jungkook sniffles, sitting on the couch again. Exactly the same spot where he sat a few minutes ago. The same one where they’ve sat together so many times. Where they listened to music, played the guitar, and had dinner. Where they sit just to be around each other without saying a word. “I never had to do that before, so no. I was not going to ask.”

And okay, maybe that’s fair. He really never had to ask for the code. 

That’s not why they do this. It’s not because little Jungkookie stomped his foot and demanded to be let in one day — he never did that. It’s because Yoongi always wanted him to feel comfortable inside a studio, any studio. It doesn’t matter how great or expensive, Yoongi just wanted him to learn that he was worthy of all of them. Any of them. He’s always been.

Because Yoongi always trusted that he would learn his way around one. And because Yoongi appreciates his input and his company and he loves having him around, even now that he has his own space, too, to use however he likes. 

And because Yoongi has always had a soft spot for him. Even before he fell in love god knew how long ago. He can’t tell anymore. 

It was always like this. A code existed, so it was theirs. He really never had to ask.

“Okay,” Yoongi takes a deep breath. He brings his chair closer to the couch and sits on it so they can face each other. He feels like crying, too. He’s relieved and all this is a little funny too. But not completely. “You could have tried your code—”

“And what if it didn’t work?”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi groans. “It was always going to work—”

“But I didn’t know that!” Jungkook insists. He shakes his head dumbly. “I just couldn’t. So I had to use the intercom—”

“Don’t ever do that again, by the way. I hate that thing.”

“Oh,” Jungkook frowns a little. “Why?”

Yoongi refuses to admit he’s traumatized by his own lock. As soon as he had it installed, this nightmare started. 

He gulps. “You could have complained to me, then. Or sent me a text, or left me a note or— God, I don’t know. Anything.” He rests his elbows on his knees, feeling very tired all of a sudden. This week was just horrible. “How do you think that made me feel? One moment you’re tongue deep in my ass and then suddenly you don’t even talk to me.”

Jungkook sputters a little, hiding his face with his hands. 

He’s not this shy at all. Not with him, not anymore. 

Yoongi drags his hand away from his face. He realizes that Jungkook isn’t really embarrassed. He’s just trying not to cry. “What is this about, Kook?”

“I don’t know,” he says, lowering his head to look at his knees. 

“You never treated hyung like that. I’m going to need a better answer than that one.”

They’ve never been here before. They’ve argued, for sure. Fuck, all seven of them have wanted to kill one another at least twice every month for the past ten, eleven, twelve years. That’s normal. 

It’s healthy, even. They are not perfect, none of them claim to be. They are just people trying to keep their heads above water. 

But they are usually good at talking things through, even when it’s hard and uncomfortable. Because they know it’s important. 

“I dunno, everything is different now,” Jungkook mirrors his position, also resting his elbows on his knees. It brings them closer. 

He never smells of anything in particular. Nose too sensitive and all that. Everything he wears is usually odorless. 

Yoongi nods, because he understands what Jungkook means. They were having sex, so things feel different. 

The thing is Yoongi knows what Jungkook’s scent is like when he’s sweaty and when he’s fresh out of the shower. Also when he’s been in the ocean or just napping on this couch for hours while Yoongi works or pretends to be busy when in reality he’s just watching kittens being rescued on Youtube. 

Things changed because they started fucking, but it wasn’t just that. They spend time together. A lot of it. They kiss, they touch, they just… Feel good around each other, they feel… Different, maybe.

Things changed. 

At least, they changed for Yoongi, even though he can’t tell anymore when that happened. He thinks they changed for Jungkook, too—

If he’s reading this right, of course. Which he thinks he is, because he knows this guy. They’ve known each other for so long. 

“I don’t want to have dinner alone, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pointing with his thumb to the take-out bag forgotten on the table. “And I don’t want you pressing this fucking buzzer, or you barely talking to me— Or you asking me who I caught feelings for when you know very well that I haven’t seen anyone else in a long time— There was only you. Didn’t you know that?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, rubbing too forcefully. It leaves a patch of dried tears over his cheekbones. He’s so beautiful. Aside from being hot and obviously very pretty, he’s just a beautiful person. “I guess—”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head. “You don’t ‘guess’, you know me better than that,” he says. “I know for a fact that you do.” He tugs at Jungkook’s shirt until they can touch their foreheads together. “What is this about?”

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers. 

“I know.” 

Yoongi knows that. They’ve said that so many times to each other; it’s not a big revelation.

Jungkook nods. “But it’s different now.”

“It’s different now,” Yoongi agrees.

“And that’s scary.” 

“It is—”

“Hyung,” Jungkook wraps his arms around him, hiding his face in his shoulder. “I don’t know how it happened— I didn’t see it, and then it had happened already— I…,” he sighs. “I freaked out, I think. And I saw the lock and I thought ‘that’s it, everything changed now, everything went to shit, he locked me out’—”

“You think you freaked out?” Yoongi laughs a little. 

Jungkook whines. “Okay, I freaked out. ‘M sorry.”

It’s dumb and exactly because it’s dumb, Yoongi knows it’s the best answer he’s going to get to all this. 

Sometimes people just… Do dumb things. You think human beings are rational and know what they are doing, but sometimes people just… Act dumb.

“Okay,” he says. “But don’t do the silent treatment again—”

“I won’t,” Jungkook shakes his head quickly. “I know that wasn’t right.”

“Hm,” Yoongi lets out, satisfied. He climbs onto Jungkook’s lap, straddling his hips just so they can be closer. Eight days of nothing after months of hugging, kissing, cuddling was too much for his poor heart. 

Jungkook slides towards the end of the couch, maneuvering them so they can be more comfortable. He chuckles when he realizes Yoongi is resting on top of him like dead weight, uncooperative. 

He just needs to be hugged right now, alright. Jungkook works out, he can carry him around— Has done it many times already.

“Are we boyfriends now or…?”

Yoongi smiles at the question. He places a delicate kiss behind Jungkook’s ear. “If you want,” he shrugs. 

Jungkook let out a delighted noise. “Oh, I’m gonna be here all the time now—”

“You already are.”

“And eat your food. And arrive at hyung's house unannounced,” he says, giddy. “Gonna annoy the crap out of you.”

Yoongi laughs, squeezing him tighter. “And talk like my dad, and be a pain in my ass.” He nuzzles into his neck, feeling a little sleepy after the adrenaline crash. “You realize nothing is going to change, right? You’ve been doing all that for years already, Kook.”

Jungkook hums, running his fingertips softly under Yoongi’s shirt, caressing the small of his back. “Isn’t it weird, though?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he replies. His voice is quiet, like it usually is when they are here. It’s just the way they’ve always functioned. “It feels different, but everything is the same. Did we… Should we have done things some other way? Did we do things in the wrong order?”

Yoongi pulls away a little, even if he loathes to lose the comfort of his previous position. “There is no wrong way or right way,” he says. “There’s just us.” He kisses Jungkook on the forehead. “Do we feel wrong to you?”

“Nah.”

“I think…,” Yoongi trails off to consider what he wants to say. He isn’t sure. 

He combs Jungkook’s hair for a moment, then runs his fingers down to the sides of his neck, just resting there, framing him. He’s so golden and pretty.

… Or maybe Yoongi is just a fool in love. Like millions of others out there.

“I think we have this idea that we’re always meant to fall in love dramatically,” he smiles, brushing his lips over the corner of Jungkook’s mouth. “But some things, they just take root.” He kisses him. Just one press of lips, but his heart goes all mushy inside his chest. The soft spot he has for this guy… It’s kinda massive. Yoongi missed him so much. “Those roots don’t need to destroy everything around them. They grow deep and strong, coexisting with the rest. And that’s good, too. Isn’t it?”

Jungkook grins at him. His nose scrunches cutely. “Hyung! Are you a writer?”

“Yah—”

“You should try going into songwriting!”

“Please, shut up!” Yoongi laughs, covering his face. “You should put this mouth of yours to better use—”

Jungkook giggles. “Like eating your ass?”

“See, you know me too well.” Yoongi lies on top of him and fidgets until he is comfortable again. “Later. Now I need a nap. You put hyung through so much stress this week, Jungkook-ah,” he whines. “I’m old!”

“You’ve been an old man since 2014 or something.”

“Yep,” Yoongi confirms. “I’m the grandpa, you are the baby—”

Jungkook groans. “I am not a baby.” 

“Shush!” Yoongi tries to keep a straight face. “Endure it!” A weird giggle bubbles out of his mouth. He’s just so fucking relieved; it’s finally hitting him just how much. 

He closes his eyes to hear his own body, to enjoy the thump thump thump of his blood pumping through him. To enjoy the fact that he’s here and Jungkook is here, too. 

Yoongi has wished for this and still, the reality of having it is much better. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes again to find Jungkook staring at him. “What?”

He looks bewildered. “I love you very bad— Like I’m in love with you.”

Yoongi grins; his toes fucking curl. He pecks his lips again. “I’m in love with you too, idiot—”

“Hey—”

“You were kind of an idiot, Kook,” Yoongi laughs, closing his eyes again. “But I love you anyway, okay?”

“Hm. Alright.”