Archive of Our Own

Yoongi is lonely.

No, wait, wait. He isn't. He has wonderful friends he’s known since middle school, they share a deep connection that’s been unrivaled for thirteen years and only strengthened with the passage of time. They've known each other for so long that Yoongi understands them from the inside out, can already guess what’s bothering them before they even open their mouths, could live in their place for a day without anyone batting an eye. 

It fills him up, charges him to fullness when he gets to be with his loved ones, comfort them during hard times, walk with them through sandstorms and downpours. He loves being useful, loves being there, loves being the person they trust to turn to when they’re in need. Especially cherishes the times when they know exactly what to say to soften his stubbornness, to artfully dismantle his defenses, when they can tell something is weighing on him and excuse him from having to articulate it with words. Yoongi has always been comforted by their advice and sincerely-worded, loyal-to-a-fault support, by the way they stand with him through thick and thin, by their familiarity, by the way they’re a constant in his life, stable and secure and unchanging in their dynamics, uncomplicated. It's all he’s ever needed from them to feel like he can live through the struggles that fall upon him. He's never needed anything more.

It's just that in the post-semester clarity— and maybe even in the midst of his struggles and ambivalence— lonesome in between the four walls of his dorm, he’s realized he needs something more. A different kind of comfort than they’ve been used to giving out to him. He tosses and turns, awake at the quietest hours of the night, desperately trying to find a non-accusing, non-demanding way to bring the subject up that won’t change things between them. He can't seem to find his words, they all tangle into one another to create messy, emotionally-charged monologues that don’t contribute to his inner turmoil, but to present him with his level of desperation. He can only pay notice to the heavy weight on his ribcage, guilt hoarding all the space inside of him he can afford to give up on. The problem is— or rather, the problem stems from the unmissable fact that— Seokjin and Hoseok, in their extroverted and naturally sociable ways, have adjusted remarkably well to the new city, to the new environment, to the new lifestyle. They've made new friends Yoongi can already recognize by name on their Instagram Stories and even managed to start dating . Yoongi had met their partners numerous times, but as happy as Yoongi is for his two childhood friends, his already crushing guilt is doubled every time they meet. The overwhelming downside of this situation is that Yoongi doesn't see much of his best and only friends. If he does happen to meet them once every two to three weeks, it’s with their new partners in tow. He can’t really get them alone for the private conversation he’s in need of, and the lack of familiar human contact is driving him positively mad. Yoongi doesn't like change, he doesn't want what they all have with each other to become unfamiliar and new and scary , he doesn't want their perception of him to shift, for them to think he’s jealous of their partners, or worse; is trying to hog their limited free time— is suddenly clingy after years of being nonchalant and easygoing. And so as his emotional needs are neglected, daily life starts weighing a little bit more than it should.

He feels like he hasn't been touched in decades. Hasn't been hugged, his hair hasn't been ruffled, his shoulders haven't been squeezed in support. He doesn't blame his friends, doesn't blame them for seeing him in the way he’s been for so many years, for acting the only way they know. For having enough space stretched between the three of them to allow them, once knowing each other down to the bone, to innocently miss the way Yoongi’s changing in their absence. The way he’s scuttering to find a new way to feel human again when all he has is himself and the white walls of the lecture halls or the library or his dorm staring back at him. Somewhere along the way, when they stopped sharing every single day, hour, and second in each other’s space, his needs reformed into something different, something new, something bigger than it was before. His skin prickles at the slightest brush, he wants to lean in, to take the comforting feeling in like a sponge absorbs liquid, so he could keep its warmth inside of him until the moment it inevitably proves its evanescence and leaves him craving again— but doesn't really want anyone to know how much hunger he holds within himself for it, the type of hunger which grows and expands inside of him until it can't be contained any longer. It's kind of sad, isn't it? He doesn't want to declare that he’s changed, make demands and get angry at their friendships and relationships, at himself for not adjusting as well as they did. It's not fair of him. So, he stays quiet. He doesn't say a thing, gives permission to the feelings to rot under his bones.

And so one day, when Yoongi is so emotionally unwell that his chest feels a little tighter than it should, he has no coursework to finish, no exams, no distractions, on a week-long post-semester break that feels more like a burden with no one to spend it with but his own thoughts— he finally caves in. 

The week prior, his friends had marveled at a flier being passed around campus, had sent a picture of it to their group-chat and said it was cute. Hoseok had even mentioned his new friend Namjoon knowing the guy, vouching for him as the world’s most wholesome human. Yoongi had shut his phone to battle off the desperate urge to screenshot the flier with the phone number attached. Had worried for too long that they'd sent it to the group-chat with him in mind. But no, right? They think he has an aversion to physical touch— that can’t be the case, right? An hour after the message was originally sent, he came right back to the chat, took a hurried screenshot, and shut off his phone. To finalize it, to eliminate his ability to take the action back. He has the information, and that’s that. 

The fact that Yoongi is considering it is absurd on its own but— shit. He really needs it.

Yoongi is lonely. He is. He's lonely and too stubborn for his own good and maybe a little hypocritical, too, for not following his own advice and communicating his needs. He’s lonely and scared and his skin is prickling at the thought of a warm body hugging him close. His mind has taken on a full-time job consisting solely of picturing what a chaste press of another body would feel like against his deprived skin. He needs this. He thinks he might go crazy if he has to spend another day in his tiny dorm looking for ways to keep himself occupied so he doesn't combust out of his skin at the nagging, relentless craving for minimal physical human affection. 

So he texts the number from the flier, repeats to himself that he has nothing to lose. Worst case scenario, nothing comes out of it and he goes on with his life. No one has to know about this except the smiling long-haired man staring back at him from his KakaoTalk user profile picture. So— he does it.

Hi, is this jungkook-ssi?

hi!!! it is! 

who’s this?

I saw your flier, my name is min yoongi

hi yoongi-ssi! you’re looking for a cuddle buddy?

I think so?

I’m sorry it’s a little new for me

i don't mind! 

i’m free all week since i’m on break :D

You promise you’re not catfishing?

what!!! i'm not a catfish!!!

we can meet over coffee and talk 

it can be only cuddles if you want

but I find it’s easier to ease into it if we do other things first

like cooking something, or watching anime, or even sheet masks and wine

whichever is your style

Oh

Um

So like friends?

yeah! cuddling with a stranger feels really vulnerable! for me, too

it’s easier to relax that way

is there something that calms you down you’d like to do?

Idk

I’m just a little lonely, I think

It’s so embarrassing to admit, ah what the fuck

you’d be surprised how many students feel that way

it’s lonely for a lot of us

it’s part of why I do this

i also really like cuddles :P

Um

Cool

Coffee then?

sure! we can chill at my dorm if you’d be comfortable with that

or at your place, whichever you prefer

talk a little

get to know each other

Oh? why not at a coffee shop or something?

it’ll be good to get used to domestic environment 

but if you’re more comfortable we can go out too

i just find that it eases people in

when you don't need to change locations like that

Ok

Shit

My dorm then

When are you free?

all week!

let’s meet during the day

tomorrow?

Cool

3pm?

sure! what building do you stay in?

B612

great!! ill see you tomorrow!

wear comfy clothes!!! i'm coming in my pj just so u know

Uhh

Okay

See u

It’s so goddamn weird. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Regrets it a little, in the back of his mind. Looks for various excuses to call the meeting off and return to his useless silent suffering. Unfortunately, his state of mind doesn’t allow him to accept any of said excuses, and it prevails. It doesn't help his general anxious nature that the next day his heart is beating so quickly he feels it in his eardrums. He hasn't been in a position of meeting new people one-on-one in way too long, is barely brave enough to go to office hours . Freaks out over a lone used sock next to his bed, cleans the small space of his dorm as if the president is due to visit, as if it isn’t barely a few square feet; a small kitchen and bathroom, a queen-size bed pushed against a wall, adjoined by a dresser and a desk. There’s also a small two-seat ugly gray sofa positioned against the other wall facing a TV screen. He’s picked the studio dorm option, pays a little more but knows he has his own space to go back to at the end of the day, somewhere he can be alone in his introversion after a tiring day.

He goes over-the-top and cleans the floor with the particular lemon-scented wet towel that tends to give him a serotonin boost, needs something to do before 3pm is here, even if it means the small space will reek of cleaning products for the next hour— he’ll take that blow for the sake of his mental health. He showers, wears his comfiest hoodie and sweats, and even puts on his favorite vanilla-scented body lotion, worries about being so close to another person, has never really been that intimate with someone— not even with his friends, and the three of them have known each other since they were children. Maybe that's why Yoongi is too scared to admit what they have sometimes isn't enough for him. Feels guilty, feels ungrateful just entertaining the thought. 

When there's a knock on the door, he’s just finished boiling water for their coffee, the sound of the kettle the only background noise except for the nervous jittering of Yoongi’s thoughts. He goes to open the door, socked-feet hesitantly tapping the floor. 

“Hi,” a round, youngish face looks back at him from the doorway. Large melted-chocolate eyes, childish-wonder and curiosity on showcase in them, an even bigger nose. A distinct-sharp jawline, glossy lips, fluffy shoulder-length dark hair styled as his KakaoTalk picture displays. He’s wearing, as assured in advance, an oversized hoodie and sweats, baggy and draped over his tall frame. The man blinks down at him, the pink of his mouth a perfectly-formed circle as he cocks his head in question. “Yoongi-ssi?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes out, mouth a little dry, a little beetle-red in the face at the undivided attention, a little too aware of the stiffness of his muscles and the tension in his limbs. “Hi, come in, Jungkook-ssi, right?”

“That’s me,” his smile loops upwards, one lone dimple peeking out. He politely walks in after Yoongi and takes off his shoes at the door. “It's nice to meet you. You’re shorter than I thought you’d be. Little spoon, then?”

Yoongi blushes at the thought, rushing to avert his gaze elsewhere. Not quite used to the idea yet— he has avoided thinking about the details of this arrangement in his gut-wrenching embarrassment, even while he’s been the one to initiate it. It’s unlike him to act so impulsively, to not think an interaction down to the details of every syllable out of his lips— it makes him all that more anxious, all that more on edge. Even only having welcomed the taller man, he has already taken it onto himself to mentally prepare for the crushing disappointment that awaits him soon enough, naturally, because this has not been overthought to the point of emotional numbness. “Ah, yeah, maybe. Do you want coffee?”

“Definitely, thank you, one sugar please. Sleep-deprivation is catching up now that my exams are over.” The man chuckles, eye-crinkles greeting Yoongi as he hums back his own tired agreement. Jungkook leans his hip against the kitchen counter, watching Yoongi pull two mugs out of a cupboard and make them their drinks. His eyes are large and clear, effortlessly reflecting the light sources in Yoongi’s dorm, and his smile is easy and casual— angled upwards just the slightest. Yoongi tries to not fall over himself at the weight of the man’s gaze on him, appreciating the short-lasting distraction of making coffee for two. “I was born in 97’, are you a hyung? You look older.” 

“Uh, I am your hyung, then, yeah.” Yoongi passes the other man his coffee with trembling fingers. With the steaming mug in his hand, Yoongi waddles his way to the compact sofa, the muted gray fabric giving in under his weight, dipping in. He takes his seat as far to the left as he can, up against the familiar white wall, curling with his feet on the cushion out of habit. He internally thanks himself for arranging they’d be meeting in his space, and nowhere that would make him even more conscious of himself and his body than he already is. Jungkook sits like a normal human being, in the middle of the cushioned seat, swallowed in by his hoodie.

“So, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook’s lip curls into a loop-sided smile. It's gentle, polite, even kind . “What do you study?”

“Electrical engineering,” Yoongi’s lips purse against his mug, feeling the steam hit his nose and his breath come back dipped in warmth. “And you?”

“Biology,” Jungkook grins at Yoongi’s almost unnoticeable raised brows— teeth out and everything, prominent in a beaming smile that takes over almost a third of the younger man’s face. “What, expected something else?” Jungkook giggles. In his embarrassment, as he attempts to restrain it from showing, Yoongi finds his guest has a certain feel to his presence. If he closes his eyes and focuses, he thinks he’d be able to feel a tamed-down ball of pure energy, contained and controlled but wild all the same. “I get told I look like a Humanities student more often than not.”

“No, just… I don't know what I expected. Sorry.” Yoongi’s shoulders curl inwards, worried he came off judgmental or prejudiced, his body-language and his intentions unaligned in his state of deafening nerves and anxiety. He’s hyper-aware of every fidget of muscle, every flinch and movement, both his own and Jungkook’s, holds his muscles tense and taut to not accidentally touch the other man and cross some social cue he doesn’t know exists. He’s suddenly greeted once again with chest-tightening regret— he should have never sent that text, this is clearly a horrible idea and Yoongi is already proving to himself exactly why he’s in this pathetic situation in the first place.

“It’s okay, hyung. Don't even worry about it. Why don't you tell me about where you’re from?” Jungkook leans back against the couch, mirroring Yoongi’s position, curled onto his side with sweater-pawed hands holding the steaming mug, socked feet digging into the couch cushion. His voice is breathy-soft as he talks, light like crisp morning air. He looks comfortable, sounds unbothered, relaxed, not at all offended or annoyed, not at all the awkward mess Yoongi feels— takes the proper liberties to seem at home without crossing any lines. Yoongi wonders if he was born with that infungible ability he wishes he could steal for himself, or if he’s learnt through enough cuddle-buddies what’s proper first-visit etiquette.

“I'm from Daegu. It’s nothing like Seoul is,” he chuckles, a little unsure, nerves overtaking his vocal chords and gripping at his neck like an ever-present threat. He clears his throat. “Didn't have anything to do but play basketball and study. Didn't do much. I'm not the most, eh, social person, as you can probably tell. I'm still friends with my high-school friend-group, they study here too, but our schedules are very different so I don't see them too often.”

“Oh, that's definitely something I can relate to.” Jungkook's eyebrows raise in a pleasant show of surprise, nodding eagerly. “I came here to study with a close friend, we’re from Busan, originally. He does double business and economics, and I never get to see him these days. It’s harder to start alone, isn’t it? To me it feels like there’s this pressure, it feels like you have to build a connection with people from your degree in the first few weeks or you’ll get left out.”

Yoongi nods, eyes trailing along the barely-visible scratches on the white coffee table in front of him. Jungkook’s words hit something bitter inside his chest, something that’s been curled into itself for the past year and finally peeks out for a glance at the affirming words sent his way. That same part of him is the one which now desperately pushes him to turn vulnerable, to finally become visible after being hidden away and dusting under the bed for so long. That part of him wants to make itself sheer and see-through for the other man’s eyes to stare and freely make their assumptions. That’s scary, so damn scary, but Yoongi has been holding these heavy feelings and worries in the distant corners of his chest and Jungkook’s words resonate with him in a way, so it all spills out. Shaky, unsure, but out all the same. “I couldn't find anyone. It takes me a long time to, to feel comfortable. I try to not pressure myself, but it- it is a bit lonely. A little more than a bit, maybe.”

“It is. Are you also like me, running off to busy yourself when you feel this way? I only started this cuddle-buddy business to have a chance to really connect with people.” Jungkook smiles against his coffee mug, nostalgia and fondness flashing in waves in his expressive, honest eyes. “I met my best friend like this, he was the first person who called.”

“Really?” Yoongi looks at Jungkook, trying to dismiss the way his chest blossoms with something akin to hope at the confession from the younger. Like maybe something wonderful like that could happen to him, too. Like maybe he just has to be patient and trust the process and everything will work itself out— like magic right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. He forgets for a moment that Jungkook didn’t just sit and wait.

“Really.” Jungkook smiles, a toothy grin that spreads big on his face, bold in the way it is pleased and contrasted nicely with the way his eyes turn soft, to accommodate the unmissable stretch of his lips as he moves to take a sip from his coffee. It’s bright, and radiating. Contagious in its casual spread of joy. “So, what do you do for fun, Yoongi-hyung?”

His mouth dries at the honorific, but he tries to not let it show. “I like reading, I like music. I like to cook.” Yoongi shrugs, sipping his drink to have something to do with his mouth, to not be forced to look into the younger man’s wide sparkly eyes, so bare with every passing emotion that it feels a little invasive for Yoongi, a stranger, to look into them. Like he shouldn't be getting access to this, not so soon, not so easily. 

“Sweet. We can put music on and cook something, sometime. I could get the ingredients, and you could cook for us? Sorry, I can only make ramen, but you could boss me around, I'm good at following orders.” Jungkook grins again, even wider, sounds a bit as if he’s the youngest in his family, used to others spoiling him and being forced to contribute. He looks around with curious eyes as he sips his drink. “Hey, I see you’ve got an Xbox here, you wanna play?”

Yoongi's eyes turn to the dust-coated console sitting next to his TV. “We can, sure, I’m not too good though,” Yoongi warns Jungkook with a wary look. “I only own the console because my older brother bought the newer version and passed this one down to me.”

“I'll go easy on you, hyung,” Jungkook sends him a bunny smile, teeth in full view and eye-crinkles reminding of their presence. ”I actually love video games, it’s my favorite way to destress— after cuddling.” Jungkook’s nose scrunches sheepishly. Yoongi stares— a bit dumbly, thinks this man would look more like a boy if he weren't so broad and heavy-muscled. He isn't sure if it’s the unprecedented honesty dripping out of his every expression and word, or if it’s the big eyes and round face that do the trick. Either option, Jeon Jungkook seems to be the opposite of an enigma, the easiest, most willing-to-be-read book, pure, almost naïve in the blind trust he must have for the human race to parade his emotions and intent so easily in front of a stranger like Yoongi. 

Hesitantly, Yoongi gets up to place his mug on the table and grab the two remotes, turning on the console on his way. He gives Jungkook a remote with an awkward smile and sits back down. They end up picking to play Mario Kart.

Jungkook’s eyes are big with wonder when he asks, “does hyung want a cuddle, now? We could sit together, I could put my hand over your shoulder and you could lean on my chest. Only if you’d like to.”

Yoongi purses his lips, face reddening, not expecting the suggestion at all. Aren't video games supposed to be competitive? Jungkook wants them to cuddle while playing against each other? He doesn’t really get it, but admits a distraction might help ease his nerves from the actual physical touch. It’d be less awkward than sitting in silence, wouldn't it? “Oh, um, maybe. Okay.”

He watches Jungkook spread out his left arm on the couch rest, opening the area of his chest for Yoongi to settle against. Yoongi thinks his face must be burning by now in all shades of pinks and crimsons, as he wiggles his way closer until the moment his thigh presses to Jungkook’s, reluctantly placing his head against the younger’s broad chest. He feels the warm sturdiness of Jungkook’s bicep resting against his nape, arm looping all around Yoongi so his hand can reach forward and use the remote properly. Yoongi fiddles with his own, runs his fingers over the texture of the controls as he listens to the ceaseless heartbeat in his ears, feels electric currents running through him where they’re touching, the position new and way more intimate than anything he’s agreed to in the past— makes him so hyper-aware of every point of contact, of the new shared body warmth tingling through him. Conscious of the way his weight is angled towards Jungkook at the dip in the couch, gravity sly in its encouragement of him to rest his weight against the other man. Yoongi has to actively ignore the nagging compulsive demand his mind presents to retract his body from Jungkook’s, to not take what he needs— because it’s a secret he can’t expose, can’t bear to be disappointed when the feeling inevitably doesn't last, no matter how much Yoongi wishes it would. It almost feels like an embrace, with the way Jungkook’s arm is wrapped around him. Yoongi feels hot all over with embarrassment, flushed in every available patch of skin, overheated in his thick winter-appropriate hoodie. His heartbeat has never been this quick to accelerate before in his life.

“Does this feel okay?” Jungkook asks, voice melodic and soft. Yoongi nods shyly, mouth too dry to speak, still fiddling with his remote, and there’s no chance Jungkook can’t tell for certain that Yoongi’s body temperature is higher than advisable, but he doesn’t comment on it, only smiles at him. “Let me know if I squeeze your head or something, Mario Kart can get intense,” he grins, shimmying his hips lower on the couch so he’s sprawled in a more comfortable position, lowering Yoongi with him.

He doesn't have much time to dwell on the position before Jungkook starts the game. They play five rounds, which Yoongi all loses terribly in, and find themselves laughing against each other as Yoongi’s character crashes into every single one of the obstacles Jungkook sets up for him, and even some of the computer-generated ones.

“You didn't exaggerate when you said you’re not too good,” Jungkook snickers, a teasing grin on his face, exposing bunny teeth that are quickly growing on Yoongi. The warmth from Jungkook is pleasant and his chest is sturdy but cushioned by the thickest, softest hoodie Yoongi has ever felt against his skin. He finds himself enjoying being curled up against Jungkook. He feels small and inexperienced, but also secure in the nonchalant way Jungkook wraps his arm around him, as if it's only natural, as if it's a regular occurrence between them, as if they're close. He's gotten over his initial embarrassment after the second round, body-heat regulating, mind focusing on the game and Jungkook’s high-pitched squeals and boisterous laughter instead of his gut-wrenching embarrassment— he’s surprised to feel himself getting used to the feeling he’s craved for so long unexpectedly fast. Maybe it is only natural. If he focuses, he’d be able to feel his skin absorbing Jungkook’s warmth, and isn’t that sensation all he’s been yearning for?

“Ah, I can't compare myself to someone who plays regularly. I can barely use the remote properly. I don't think I've turned this console on since I moved here.” Yoongi chuckles softly, hyper-aware of their vicinity, feels the warm puffs of air from Jungkook’s mouth as his laughs hit his hair, ticklish against his scalp. Distincts a steady heartbeat thudding against his back.

“Well, we could do this more often, and I'll make sure you get better, yeah?” He nudges Yoongi slightly, grin dissipating into a soft-tender smile, a little curious, a little testing. “Could I touch your hair? Or neck, or that area at all? I like to keep my hands busy.”

“Oh, um. That's fine, yeah. Whichever.” Yoongi exhales shakily, doesn't actually know what he’s okay with, has never been touched in this manner. He figures if he’s uncomfortable he’ll just push Jungkook off, right? He doesn't know him, but he gives off a very sweet vibe, youngish in his wonder and in his solutions to his problems. A cuddle-buddy business? Except Yoongi sighs in defeat at the realization— while he’s been sitting and drowning in his own self-made emotional anguish, Jungkook disliked an aspect of his life and formulated a plan to create change. He’s much more mature and put-together than Yoongi is, despite the small age gap and the child-like manner of his problem-solving. For some reason, that realization makes Yoongi curl further into himself, thoughts teetering into dangerous territory.

He tries to snap out of it. Tries to not build jealousy or resentment inside himself towards both Jungkook and him, tries to focus on the ticklish sensation on the skin of his nape, roughed-up knuckles running over the sensitive patch of skin, raising goosebumps. 

He breathes in, breathes out, tries to stop his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, hyung?” Jungkook whispers out, big doe eyes sparkling in their curiosity, holding the daintiest glints of worry that surely are a figment of Yoongi’s imagination, unless it turns out he’s been just as crystal-clear and easy to read as Jungkook has been all this time— a terrifying concept for Yoongi to carry in his mind. He likes to think he’s poised, apathetic-faced and in-control of what he gives away, even if he’s nothing but underneath the cover-up facade.

“Sorry, I'm— I'm being stupid. I was thinking you were really cool, for— for going out of your way to help yourself and— other people.” Yoongi isn’t sure what prompts him to share his inner turmoil out into the open like that, and to a stranger no less, but he figures it has a lot to do with the honesty in Jungkook’s every manner, that makes him comfortable with returning the same attitude back to him, or at least significantly less afraid to do so. “I guess I'm thinking I'm not a lot like you.”

“Oh? I mean, thank you, but it seems to me you’re doing the same as I am. Did you think this set-up doesn’t comfort me as well? You’re really soft, and the perfect size for a little spoon. Plus, we’ve been doing my de-stressing activity. I really could doze off like this, I’m halfway there, if I’m honest— you're very comfortable and I didn’t sleep too well last night. Remember, this thing is mutual, we’re both helping each other, aren't we? And you were the one to reach out in the first place. It takes courage.” There's a wrinkle between Jungkook’s brows as he speaks, the faintest frown, and only when mentioned does Yoongi take a mental step back to notice the prominent bags under Jungkook's eyes, the way his smile loops a little lazily when his mouth is closed. Jungkook seems to share Yoongi's chronic fatigue weighing on his back from the long semester, from the relentless studying, from the type of anxiety reserved for exam season, from the loneliness snowballing and pushing him under. He sees himself there, in the exhaustion, but not so much in the way the younger man seems to still exude energy in unceasing waves, like the supply inside of him is infinite, just waiting to be released from underneath his skin into the outside world. 

“Oh, I guess. Maybe. I don’t know. Do you— um, did a lot of people reach out to you?” He tries to change the subject, doesn't really reserve his self-reflection time to be spent with other people even if Jungkook’s voice is comforting in itself, just the right timbre to relieve tension in Yoongi’s brain and all other muscles, too. Just the perfect pitch to resemble one of the songs Yoongi sometimes listens to when he can’t sleep at night, to lull him under and keep him there— the one his grandma would play for him on their rusty piano when he was young. 

“Not too many, currently. It’s still exam season after all. No one as of right now other than you and Taehyung, my friend I mentioned." Jungkook says, and somehow manages to make Yoongi a little more comfortable in their arrangement. It feels more personal like that, to know Jungkook doesn't have at least ten people lining up and filling up his schedule, a little less manufactured— more fitting for the character the man has, the pure, could-hurt-no-one eyes and easy-to-give-into smile. 

“Ah, I see. I thought you sort of have to have some cuddling experience for this set-up to work.” Yoongi smiles, a tinge of a sheepish tone to him, not too sure yet, but, testing. The only thing he knows is that a man such as himself, completely unfamiliar with the concept of sharing personal space in the way they are sharing so closely now— Yoongi is shocked to discover he still feels just as blissed out as he felt on first contact— he’s a stranger to physical intimacy in all its kinds and colors, could never make something like this work without the proper direction Jungkook is here to provide him with.

“Oh I definitely have a strong resume in the field, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook grins again. As he watches him, Yoongi silently wonders if his cheeks ever hurt from grinning so often, facial muscles stretched out. When Jungkook continues, his voice turns softer and a small smile still remains present on his lips. “I come from a very touchy family. I'm used to being all over all the people I love. Skinship is care, for me. The shift into adulthood really took that away from me— living alone isn’t ideal for a person like me so I sort of spiraled, last semester. But doing this really helps, you know? Of course it isn’t the same as snuggling into your parents’ bed or spooning your childhood best friend but— it’s something. And I wouldn’t have suggested I’d hold you if you didn’t seem like a good guy, like someone I could get along with. I do keep myself safe, I am selfish sometimes. But, well. You do what you need to do to hold up, right?”

Yoongi looks up at the younger man, neck straining to see his expression, mouth gaping in startled shock. He didn't expect the stream of vulnerability when he made that comment, didn’t expect his heart to clench in his ribcage for the sole reason of an uncanny similarity, an unignorable resemblance between the ache in his heart and the words being uttered to him. Doesn't know why it feels so warm to hear them from another person’s mouth.

Yoongi has been alone in his struggles. Alone in his anxiety, for a very long time. He’s held things inside, kept them intentionally hidden at times, protecting his loved ones from worry or himself from their pity. He has not heard his internal suffering uttered in words, not even the simplest ones, and he has never pictured the first time he feels like they’ve been given shape and form in letters and syllables to be out of someone else’s mouth— a stranger, who might not be so different from him. Who might not be that much of a stranger, if he shares Yoongi’s heaviest weight on his back, if he knows what it feels like to be trapped in your circumstances, lost, a little desperate. 

“I’m— yeah. Yeah. I know how that feels. I’m not- not the same, quite the opposite but the feeling you’re describing is, is there. This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to say it, okay? I’m just gonna say it. I’ve never been touched like this…? I’ve never— my family’s cold, and I was raised into that preference. I was shown love in the form of constructive criticism or advice or overbearing protectiveness and, and that’s love too but—” Yoongi swallows nervously, words spilling out in a chase to convey the depth of his understanding, the force in which he feels understood all of a sudden, a few seconds worth of words from a total stranger breaking down this dam he’s built over the last couple of months. “I didn’t hug my friends until I was eighteen. They still live with the idea that I don’t enjoy any sort of physical affection, but recently, since I’ve moved I’ve— I’ve realized I need it, I feel like I might burst open if I don’t get it. And I don’t want to tell them, and you’re really nice, and I’ll probably get over it soon, and maybe this is a mistake. I don’t know. I don’t know. Now that I said it out loud it just sounds like I’m running away from an uncomfortable conversation. I’m sorry.”

“Hyung, it’s okay to be afraid. I know what it’s like. I know that feeling of wanting to burst open.” Jungkook tightens his hold against Yoongi, pulling his face closer and into his chest, his right arm around Yoongi’s shoulder and into a small embrace, engulfing the older man’s frame in his protective warmth. “It’s okay to stand still sometimes. You can’t change your course while you’re already in the middle of running your original path, you know? You have to stop at the intersection and consider your options. It’s okay to stop, I’ve realized that. Just for a while, and then you can jump back on course. If this is your intersection, I wouldn’t mind being your standing-still moment. When the moment is over you’ll have your plans going forward reformed, you’ll feel much less lost. It’s how I felt, it’s what I’m living right now.”

“Shit,” Yoongi mutters to himself, words hitting the strong muscles of Jungkook’s chest, seeping into the thick fabric and warming Yoongi in return. “I need a break, I need it, you’re right. Thank you, seriously. You’re so nice, what the hell.”

“Ah, I'm barely doing anything.” Jungkook’s thumb runs up and down the line of Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi is almost tucked under his chin, hearing the younger’s heartbeat steady and repetitive in his ears, slowly syncing Yoongi’s to match its pace and rhythm until they’re one and the same. “I knew you’d be a cool guy. You’re also really nice and warm, and you smell really good, too.”

Yoongi chuckles shyly, a little overwhelmed, a little breathy, a little less embarrassed at the compliments than he expected to be. “Ah, I run hot most times, sorry. And I- eh, I have lotion on, that’s probably what you’re smelling. Sorry, I was nervous.”

“Me too,” Jungkook admits sheepishly, teeth catching his bottom lip in a relieved smile dabbled in nervousness. “I’m going to confess something. I looked up your socials before I came here, just to have an idea of who you are. Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry. I actually thought you look perfect, for, for cuddling and— just really soft. Your captions on Instagram made me laugh, and Tae-hyungie said he had a good feeling about this and he has otherworldly intuition— so I had some expectations. I guess I was nervous because I didn’t want to get disappointed. Lucky me, you really are as good company as I thought.” 

“I don't mind, I actually heard about you from my friend who knows someone who knows you.” Yoongi laughs softly, feels fingers leave his neck and tangle in the short hairs at his nape, is sure he hasn't felt that wonderful thrum along his scalp since he was a boy— wonders how he has lived without it for so long. Preens at the direct affirmation, even if he hasn't intentionally looked for it. Something about the younger man’s unfiltered honesty makes Yoongi’s muscles loose. It's like Jungkook doesn't care about being judged or criticized, or maybe just doesn't believe Yoongi would do any of these things to him. Yoongi exhales shakily with a small shiver. “You— you’re also, comfy. This is nice.”

“Yeah? Feels nice so far?” Jungkook breathes out, his smile can be heard in his tone, Yoongi doesn't have to lift his face up to visualize the stretch of muscle and flash of white teeth blinding in their exuberance and purity. 

Yoongi nods against his chest, warm-cheeked and sweaty-handed even in the unrelenting November chill. “Yeah, yeah. It’s nice. Your hands feel— good.”

Yoongi’s face is so incredibly flushed, even warmer than his skin under his hoodie, as it’s pressed snugly into Jungkook’s chest, as he utters the confessions like he’s been caught in the act. Somehow, this feels safer than before. Like his embarrassment, his lack of experience, his socially awkward nature, they are all hidden and tucked into Jungkook’s chest along with Yoongi’s face. It’s easier to admit how much he likes this, how it calms some unexplainable itch under his skin, raising goosebumps as it’s being soothed, easing his breath.

A thumb caresses his jaw, fingers lightly scratching the hair on Yoongi’s nape. A breathy-giggly chuckle echoes in the small space of the dorm as Yoongi’s mind almost purrs at the gentle affections, the repetitive motions along his skin that calm his body in ways he’s never experienced before. Like medicine, like a drug, he thinks the calm is seeping into his skin from Jungkook’s hands, alleviating any discomfort, any unpleasantness, any and every small trouble Yoongi might feel. “Glad to hear I'm not the only one enjoying it an unexpected amount.”

Yoongi finds himself only humming back, eyes closing, lashes fluttering against reddened cheeks as his mind follows the movements of Jungkook’s hand in his hair and on his skin. They’re quiet for a long while, after that, just existing like this, only steady breathing heard in the silence around them, room slightly warmer than it was before, a direct result of their proximity. Yoongi thinks it’s the perfect temperature, like waking up from an afternoon nap during summertime, sun on your skin but not enough to make you bothered by its beams, just warming you from the inside out, just making you unable to leave its welcoming, addictive hands embracing you, surrendering to simply snuggle in for the rest of the day.

The next time Yoongi opens his eyes, he has a hand thrown over Jungkook’s waist. He looks up at the man through squinting sleep-heavy eyes to see the younger man’s head resting sideways against the sofa, eyes shut and breathing even. He realizes Jungkook’s palm had stopped at his nape, now simply covering the patch of skin, motionless. The weight of it is pleasant, grounding, comforting, just like the rest of this position. It only makes sense that they fell asleep, really, having both been so tired, and it being their first and only break of the semester. Jungkook has been tired and— Yoongi has never felt this amount of comfort before, he thinks he might have momentarily drowned in the feeling.

At Yoongi’s movement against him, Jungkook stirs awake. His lips twitch, a little frown overtaking his blissful expression as he slowly returns to the realm of consciousness. Yoongi isn't sure if it’s him being displeased with falling asleep or with waking up. He hopes it's the latter. 

“Mm’hyung, we fell ‘sleep,” he mumbles, squishing Yoongi a little as he brings his palms to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Yoongi watches him lift both his hands up to stretch his joints, laughing breathily at the cracking he causes, and Yoongi takes it as a sign to lift himself off the man’s chest to sit back against the couch. 

“Ah, what time s’it? I tried not to, guess I was too tired.” Jungkook also pulls himself upright groggily until he's seated and leaning his face on the couch, puffy with the residue of sleep, clothes askew, hair a fluffy mess compared to the neatly brushed locks he’s sported when Yoongi’s eyes first fell on him.

Yoongi looks at the TV, still open on the gaming console. “It's five,” he rasps out. “Ah, we were out for about an hour and a half.”

With a small sound that's a mix between a groan and a whine, Jungkook pulls his head away from the couch to sit properly, seems to be sobering up from the sleepy haze that overtook him. “I promised myself I would hit the gym today, ah, I should probably go soon, I’m sorry. I didn't expect to fall asleep, hoped we could talk more. Hyung’s just too comfy.”

“S’okay, I also fell asleep. It was nice, maybe we both needed a power nap.” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, seeing Jungkook’s much longer strands messy on top of his head from where they were squished under the couch cushion, wondering if his own were sharing the same fate after being pressed into Jungkook's sturdy chest for so long.

“Okay,” Jungkook smiles, eyes squeezed closed. When they open they’re sweet and warm as they meet Yoongi’s. “Thanks for today, I don't think I've slept this well in a while.”

“Me too,” Yoongi smiles shyly, recalls the indescribable bliss of being tucked into another person’s chest, holds onto the addictive feeling in between his fingers so it doesn’t slip away now that it’s gone. He tucks hair behind his ear to have something to do with his hands, suddenly aware of what they’ve been sharing for the duration of their meeting, and how sweet it is to be thanked for sharing body warmth and presence with another person. He finds himself scurrying for a deflection, a change of topic— can only think of Jungkook wanting to leave, of the option of him feeling some kind of obligation to keep Yoongi company to make up for the time they had just dedicated a different purpose to and— he doesn't want Jungkook to think he’s kicking him out, but also doesn't want him to force himself to stay. “I won't hold you any longer, Jungkook-ah. Go have fun at the gym.”

Jungkook’s smile is easy. Not relieved, not disappointed; simply a showcase of acceptance. And so the two of them stand up with matching shy smiles, waddling one after the other, busying themselves with face-rubbing and waking up their senses, anything but each other. When Jungkook’s at the door, he looks at Yoongi, and he says, “I really did enjoy today. I'd love to do this again, so if you ever feel like it I'm free from tomorrow and until the semester starts, just text me again whenever you’d like, yeah?”

Yoongi nods, cheeks tinged a little red. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And then Jungkook leaves with a wave and a smile. Yoongi simply closes the door after him, standing still in front of the closed door, mind blank but for the memory of the ghost of Jungkook’s warmth against him.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

It’s less than twenty four hours later when Yoongi’s resolve to ditch every tinge of hope his heart grew, promptly breaks. 

During those twenty four hours, Yoongi comes close to convincing himself to never contact Jungkook again. To delete his number and refer to their first interaction as a fever dream he hallucinated out of desperation and yearning. He begins to accept that the bliss Jungkook’s embrace provided him with— was simply never meant for him to bask in. Jungkook would be fine with Taehyung who can most likely match his social skills and energy levels. Jungkook should do that, and Yoongi should just stay miserably passive and alone. Sounds about right. 

Except Yoongi attests he is at least fifteen percent selfish if not more, and those fifteen tend to multiply by five when he’s anxious and overthinking himself to senseless insecurity. When those percentages reach the seventy five percent mark— that’s when Yoongi automatically blocks any thought processes and reverts to plain survival; he might go crazy if he doesn’t get at least a sliver of hope to hold on to that he could feel that addictive comfort again, those hands around him and a heartbeat against him and the sweet sensation of pure calm that he had felt the day before for the very first time. And so he doesn’t think, and he does the only thing he can think of that might reassure him. 

Hi jungkook-ah

hi hyung! how are you? :D

I’m okay

I was thinking 

If you want to

Maybe we could meet again sometime?

Last time was nice

yeah!! of course! i’d love that! when are you free?

I’m free all day

So you can stop by whenever you want

does 4pm work? 

Yeah sure :)

awesome! see you then!!!

Yoongi hears a knock on his door a couple of minutes before 4pm. He gets up in a hurry, had thought he would have a few more moments to stress-clean and maybe brush his hair, so he pushes his hands through the messy strands as he walks to the door. He was expecting Jungkook’s arrival, had significantly calmed down at having gotten his reassurance and more; so the quickened-to-extreme pace of his heartbeat is irritatingly unproportionate. Behind the door, as expected and warmly welcomed, a smiling Jungkook awaits, hair tied in a neat half-ponytail, making the youngish contours of his cheeks pop and the roundness of his eyes accentuated.

“Hi, hyung,” he smiles, cheeks plumping up, close-mouthed and sheepish— almost shy but not quite. “How are you?”

“Hi,” Yoongi replies, just as sheepish and three times as red in the face, feels like he’s on autopilot as he continues to speak, polite, mind working extra hours trying to find places to look at that aren’t Jungkook’s big doe eyes and words to say that aren't devoid of character whatsoever. Still feels— although guiltily so— inclined to impress Jungkook, so he’d want to stay. He sort-of kind-of really likes his company, he thinks. “I'm good, thank you. How about you?” 

“I'm great, was very happy to hear from you.” Jungkook’s smile widens to show his bunny teeth. Something unnamed in Yoongi’s gut tells him Jungkook can probably already tell he’s a socially awkward mess, that he’s no good at this type of interaction. Silently, Yoongi hopes he didn’t make a grave mistake; that Jungkook isn’t about to grow disappointed with who his newest cuddle-buddy turned out to be, that he didn't expect an extroverted conversationalist because Yoongi himself is anything but— could he have missed it yesterday, when he said he enjoyed Yoongi’s company? Yesterday might have been wonderful to unbelievable extents once Yoongi grew comfortable, but the majority of the evening was spent dozed off— he’s scared his true colors will finally be showcased and inevitably let down the other man. Yoongi turns red with embarrassment, both self-inflicted and stemming from the other man’s straightforward honesty, and so he distracts himself by making his way inside. Jungkook follows Yoongi in, the two naturally gravitating towards the same gray couch from the day before. They sit next to one another, shoulders touching slightly, Yoongi remembering in the back of his head the feeling of being pressed against the younger man’s chest, the warmth of skin against his own, the newly discovered feeling of comfort he’s craved all this time and can finally have for himself. He finds himself unable to stop the anticipation from crawling up and down his bones, leaving him jittering with expectancy. 

“Ah, good, because I was stressing out thinking I came off weird, that it might be too soon.” Yoongi laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. He wouldn’t usually let his worries out in the open, but simply taking a look into Jungkook’s big, clear, star-dotted eyes gives him an overall sense they might have an unspoken contract forming between the two of them; one that binds them to honesty and a level of vulnerability. 

“There’s never ‘too soon’ when it comes to cuddles, hyung,” Jungkook grins all wide and inherently kindness-fueled, nudging Yoongi’s shoulder in his signature good-natured playfulness. “I’d love to play with your hair, it looks extra soft today. Does that sound like something you’d like?”

Yoongi purses his lips with a shy sort of embarrassment, cheeks tinted red and eyes skittish. He nods without a word, feels a strange tingle up his spine at the suggestion. He hasn’t had his hair played with since he was a boy no older than seven years old— he doesn't remember what he’s missing. He tasted for a few seconds the shivers-inducing caress of the hairs at his nape by Jungkook’s hands yesterday— he didn’t think he would feel that so soon again. Yoongi has to admit to himself that he feels his ears and neck warm up at the specific way in which Jungkook carefully worded the request, too; as if he wants to play with Yoongi’s hair for his own sake. As if it’ll please Jungkook personally, and it is not only Yoongi who’ll be getting the benefit out of the interaction. It makes his body run too hot for it to be considered normal.

Jungkook smiles, vanilla-sweet and tangy, wordlessly signaling for Yoongi to rest his head against his shoulder. Yoongi complies, a little less hesitant than the day before. Perhaps following yesterday’s experience, or maybe it’s just a less significant, less intimidatingly intimate step, to rest his head against another person’s shoulder than it is to lay against their chest. Either way, Jungkook pulls an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder, hugging him snugly into his side, and begins cradling his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, tender-soft and careful, from roots and scalp to the tips at his neck. Yoongi finds it hard to contain his pleased sighs, momentarily closing his eyes to feel the wonderful sensation amplified. Yoongi doesn't know how he managed to forget what this feels like. He doesn't think he’ll be able to forget the tingly caresses against his scalp, the shivers they prompt all over his body— so easily leaving him affected.

“Hyung, why don’t we play twenty one questions together?” Jungkook quirks up, smile looping up to the left side in a mix of curiosity and intent, still calm and careful— attentive to Yoongi’s mood and the general relaxed atmosphere surrounding the two of them. Yoongi figures Jungkook might have something specific he wants to ask, maybe wants to do it casually to not come off head-strong— but his face when Yoongi looks up to it in question is devoid of any ulterior motives, simple and kind, just patient where he looks Yoongi’s way, attentive to his reaction. 

“Okay,” Yoongi smiles sheepishly, thinks it’s a childish game to play but also thinks it’s a sufficient way to get to know another person. Feels more comfortable after coming to the conclusion Jungkook must genuinely want to get to know him, feels more at ease, more like he felt yesterday between vulnerable words and warm embraces. It dawns on Yoongi again in momentary bewilderment that, once again, Jungkook seems to take childishness’s advantages and play them to his will, cards all laid face-up on the table for Yoongi to watch for himself. Honest, just, and most meaningful for a person like Yoongi— kind.

“I’ll start,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, white bunny teeth peeking out, eyes soft and curious where they fall onYoongi’s face. “Where’s your comfort place?”

Expecting a much more lighthearted question, Yoongi lets out a short chuckle of surprise. He takes a few seconds to ponder the question and to find his answer in the mess of his head, juggles a few places he loves and cherishes dearly in his mind; his childhood home, his favorite court to play in, his beloved music room. Thinks about comfort and all the forms it can take, all the different ways in which a place can take meanings. “Um… I guess it has to be my grandparents’ house. They have this room, it has a grand piano in it, they used to play for me when I was young and taught me how to play. I haven’t, in a while. It’s all the way back in Daegu, but it reminds me of being a kid.”

Jungkook smiles softly, fingers tangling in Yoongi’s hair in soft scratching that feels blissful against his scalp, eyes trained on him so fondly Yoongi turns a rosy-red at the way he so visibly preens against Jungkook’s touch, kittenish in his enjoyment and wordless request for more. “That’s so sweet. Are you close to your grandparents?”

“I thought it’s my turn to ask?” Yoongi chuckles nervously, not very used to the spotlight being on him, so interested in his life it gets him flustered. “But yeah, I mean, I guess. They’re softer with me than my parents are, maybe people really do soften with age. What about you?”

“I like the gym best, I think.” Jungkook muses, gaze fleeting to thoughtfully gaze away before returning to Yoongi’s interested, slightly amused eyes. “I know it isn't one specific place, but no matter where I go it’s the same, the use is familiar, it’s a place I can get my thoughts in order while my body is busy with something else. An activity for myself that is also useful. For some reason it's the only hobby of mine that my brain deems productive, and that way I don't feel bad for doing it instead of studying. If I sketch, or paint… I sort of feel guilty. It recharges me and is crucial for my mental health, yeah, but my brain disapproves.”

“You do art? That’s so cool,” Yoongi exhales in awe. Eyes somewhat widened, impressed. “But it’s true, unwinding is just as important as studying. I mean, sometimes I just have to sort-of… turn off my brain and end up scrolling through Instagram for a while. It’s much more productive to do art than— than waste time on your phone, you know?”

Jungkook nods, nimble fingers still busy on Yoongi’s hair, slow ruffles of hair strands in tune with the flow of their conversation, whether consciously or not, brushing against Yoongi’s skin— nape, cheeks and forehead. “I haven’t drawn in a while. Maybe I should. What else do you do when you need to unwind?”

“Um, I sleep a lot,” Yoongi chuckles, skittish as he plays with the hem of his sweatshirt to busy his hands. “I listen to music… when things get really overwhelming— I know it’s, it’s weird, but— I could just stare at a wall for an hour, too.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, hands raising to cover his mouth at the uncontrollable sound. His hair is squished against the couch, his small ponytail beginning to slip out of the hairtie’s loose grip. Yoongi feels the heat rise to his cheeks at being laughed at, knows it’s in good nature, is aware it’s an odd thing to do, isn’t offended or anything— but the physical reaction is almost instinctual. His entire body turns too hot to handle calmly, heartbeat in his ears. “That’s a first. Hyung, next time you stare at a wall just text me instead, will you? I’ll be far more entertaining, I can guarantee that.”

“Okay,” Yoongi replies back, an almost permanent flustered smile on his lips, neck and cheeks matching in overheated colors. Beyond the clouding embarrassment, he’ll admit that he likes being invited into Jungkook’s day; likes that the other man gracefully suggests openings for Yoongi to feel like an active part of his life— it makes him warm from the inside out, if he wasn’t warm enough already, makes him feel as if he’s— well, wanted . “I— I know it’s a little strange, but it helps my brain disconnect for a moment. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever needed your brain to stop for a while?”

“More times than I can count,”Jungkook admits, eyes wide, as if only now realizing the reason Yoongi’s study-breaks are so… mind-numbingly boring, only when actively recalling those moments he so desperately needed a break. Moments he’d have given anything for a blanked-out mind. “Is there someone who hasn’t? Having a human brain is exhausting.”

“Most definitely,” Yoongi exhales a small laugh, eyes trailing away and settling on the spotless Xbox under the TV; he had cleaned it of the countless dust-loads earlier today, just in case. The truth is, Yoongi needs breaks from his brain not only because of the information-overload university entails, but because his mind runs in circles more than it goes forward, sometimes. He wishes there was an off button somewhere that he just hasn't found yet, and needs to keep looking for. Jungkook’s understanding eyes and the vulnerable sincerity of his reply tells Yoongi that Jungkook shares that weight with him, too.

“You mentioned not liking physical touch until recently.” Jungkook starts, reminding Yoongi of the game they’re playing— having forgotten in the flow of conversation. “How did you use to prefer being shown love or support?” Jungkook asks, tone threading gently between interested and careful, fingers trailing feather-light patterns along the line of his neck and into the goosebumps-decorated hairs on his nape. 

Yoongi gradually tenses as the question sinks in, when he realizes suddenly with all the solemnity it arises, that he doesn’t really have an answer to give Jungkook, that he’s never really had to pick; his family and friends always gave him what they thought would be helpful within the boundaries of his that they were familiar with. Yoongi never really had to ask, never sat down to think about in which ways he preferred being shown love. He’s too used to happily receiving what he’s offered. He stammers, “I— well, um…”

“Is it a difficult question?” Jungkook smiles a gentle close-mouthed smile, a tad apologetic and a tinge curious. He seems to study Yoongi’s expression with something like fondness beginning to take root, as if Yoongi not taking sufficient care of himself is a known fact between the two of them that keeps proving itself, like Jungkook had asked him to do better before, had known all along he wouldn’t listen. It’s unsettling, slightly, since they’ve barely known each other for a couple of days, but it also makes something shift in Yoongi’s chest, makes it lighter, makes some worries disappear, too. Makes everything feel familiar— from their position together, to their conversation, to simply looking into those charged eyes directed at him without hesitation. It’s almost like Jungkook… understands what he’s like.

Yoongi finds himself looking away from the younger man’s gaze with a sigh. “It— it shouldn’t be.”

“You have all the time in the world to find what makes you feel loved and cared for, hyung. It’s never too late to find out. Knowing you need physical touch, it’s a wonderful start. Don’t hesitate to ask, Yoongi-hyung, I’m here for that and anything more you might need.” Jungkook’s words and his eyes and the small loop of his smile are all wearing matching gentle patience, understatement. His hands, too, feel like they trail loosely into his hair strands with more purpose than to merely feel nice. It feels like they’re sending a message, too; a message that reads, ‘you deserve to take your time, and I’ll spend it with you, here’.

“I— thank you. That’s very nice of you. You’re really sweet and caring, Jungkook-ah. I guess— for your question, I wanna ask— were you raised that way, too? Or is it something you became through life?” Yoongi speaks through a wave of warmth concentrating in his face. He’s never— never thought he’d hear words like these from someone he knows for so little time. And with that sincerity, too— not out of obligation or a sense of responsibility— simply out of kindness and compassion. It’s not something Yoongi can take for granted, not something he can simply pass on without appreciation. He’s been wondering whether people can be born the way Jungkook is, whether people can remain as gentle and warm and pure-intentioned as Jungkook is even as life runs them through challenges. 

A big Cheshire grin slowly takes over Jungkook’s lips, and he chuckles, taking his phone out of his pocket, tapping it and raising a brow at Yoongi. “Why don’t we ask someone a little more credible than me?”

Yoongi is confused as he watches Jungkook’s smiling form bring his phone up on speaker between the two of them. It takes Yoongi another second before his mind catches up and momentarily freaks out— is Jungkook calling his parents ?

“Jungkookie!” A feminine voice echoes through the phone, lighthearted and melodic. Yoongi is dazed with the thought he’s listening in to a conversation with a person who must be Jungkook’s mom, two days into knowing the guy. It should feel invasive, intrusive, private . And yet Jungkook’s expression is nothing but happy, worry-free and inviting. “It’s my Jungkookie!”

“Hi mom,” Jungkook grins, fingers slow in Yoongi’s hair in his distraction but not releasing from their position, simply settled there in their warmth, remembering to caress gently between sentences. “I’m calling about something silly again. I’m here with a hyung of mine, and he was asking me whether I’m this— and I quote— sweet and caring , because of how I was brought up or if it’s all me. What’s your verdict?”

“Hi to Jungkookie’s hyung,” his mom laughs, and Yoongi smiles, reserved but mannered, even if he knows she can’t see the shy curl of his lips. “Well, we raised him and his brother to always be kind, I can’t not take credit for that,” she laughs, Yoongi looks at Jungkook and sees him wearing the biggest grin he’s seen on him since they first met, eyes filled with sparkles as he listens to her voice. “But Kookie was always sweet and empathetic towards others, very emotionally intelligent. Oh, and honest to a fault— could never forget that one, could I? It’s his charm. I want to say it’s 40% us and 60% him. Am I taking too much credit? Should we settle for 35% in our favor?”

“If you say it’s a 35% then it’s a 35%,” Jungkook’s eyes squint into crescent moons, snickering. Yoongi would surely have thought the child-like nature of the conversation stems from the easiness and familiarity between a son and his mother, but he knows better— this is just what Jungkook is like. “I was going to take all the credit, so feel free to do yourself justice, mom.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh, Jungkook’s pure happiness from the simple act of talking to his mother is contagious enough that Yoongi feels jitters in his chest, too. The bizarre situation makes it so Yoongi barely even notices when Jungkook pulls him tighter against his side, snug and almost close enough to rest against his chest again, if he leaned a bit forward. 

“You rascal. Make that 40%.” She laughs, not unlike Jungkook’s own laughs, a little high pitched and a tad breathy-giggly. 

“Okay mom, thanks for answering, I’ll call you later again, okay?” Jungkook’s smile shrinks in size, but still remains. His eyes retain all previous emotions in them, seeming to take longer to release and move on than his words, holding on to the soothing warmth for as long as possible. “Love you.”

“Bye Jungkookie, love you too, take care.” There’s a smile in those words that makes Yoongi’s lips mirror it uncontrollably.

The moment the line cuts off, Jungkook falls onto Yoongi’s side in giggles. “Your face when I called was priceless, hyungie.”

Yoongi blinks at him, puzzled but still smiling, voice a strange mixture of accusing and exasperated. “Well I— I didn’t expect you to— to call your mom!”

Jungkook replies back in the same playful tone of voice, fingernails returning to slightly scratch against Yoongi’s scalp all the way down to his nape— now lined red from even the gentlest pass of a fingernail against it. “If I said it was mostly me you would have thought I was lying!”

“As if,” Yoongi huffs out a laugh, gums out in a cheerful grin mixed into a teasing scoff, one that’s private between the two of them, that’s rare in those short seconds Yoongi’s brain is high off the dopamine of a good laugh and lets its inhibitions go for a moment of courage. No one who hasn’t met Jungkook would be able to understand the extent of disbelief Yoongi holds against the idea of the younger man lying. “I bet you couldn’t even lie to save your life. My next question for you, Jungkook-ah, when was the last time you lied?”

Jungkook gapes, staring at him deer-eyed, caught off guard enough for even his hand in Yoongi’s hair to freeze. “I- I lie sometimes, hyung.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Yoongi chuckles, eyes soft— maybe even fond?— as he regards the other man. He tilts his head to rest it against the arm placed around his shoulder, a more comfortable position to gaze onto Jungkook’s face.

“Like, like when someone asks me if I mind, and I do, but I say I don’t. That’s a lie.” Jungkook frowns, eyes still carrying that same puzzled shade in them. “I lie all the time.”

“That’s barely a lie,” Yoongi’s eyebrows pull together at the specific expression Jungkook’s wearing, at his tone turning breathier. He looks genuinely bothered, and the concept of this gentle boyish man being upset makes Yoongi feel something fiery in his gut, like protectiveness. Is Jungkook that bothered by lying about such trivial things? Every person does that. Hell, Yoongi does that at least three times a day. He insists, “a white lie is too small to count.”

“If you lie a lot it piles up, and then it gets heavy, gets burdensome. It’s difficult to stop white-lying about these things, hyung. Do you do that too?” Jungkook returns his gaze to Yoongi, eyes a little messy, harder to read than usual, as if they themselves are still trying to articulate the complexity of the emotions Jungkook’s experiencing. His hands move to play with Yoongi’s bangs, framing his face, brushing against his cheek every once in a while.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, wants to assure Jungkook— everyone does this, everyone wants to hide some meaningless parts of themselves, to keep those under control, to put up an image or to make themselves feel better. “I say I’m okay when I’m not, all the time— so other people won’t worry.”

Jungkook nods to himself, eyes still cloudy and lips set in an almost unnoticeable pout. He turns to Yoongi with the same expression, just tinted in challenge, and says; “don’t trust my white lies, hyung, and I won’t trust yours.”

“Deal.” Yoongi smiles, close-mouthed and almost pursed, eyes locked with Jungkook’s for a lone second before he gets embarrassed and looks away. After a short-lasting quiet pause between the two of them, in which Jungkook watches Yoongi run through his thoughts, Yoongi finally asks, almost a whisper— “would you really have taken all the credit?”

“I genuinely would have,” Jungkook laughs, a little tamed down but still smiling. “My parents taught me to be kind but it got me in a lot of trouble most of the time. I’d say yes to things I shouldn’t, put other people’s needs before my own. It stuck, so it’s challenging to get rid of it now, even though I’m trying. I always end up giving others what I wanted to ask for. I'm learning to be just as kind to myself, though, so hopefully things will get easier soon.”

“Does this mean you want your hair played with?” Yoongi smiles, eyebrows raised, a little unlike himself in taking the initiative so nonchalantly— even if it is half a joke. He wants Jungkook to feel better, wants to do what he can for him, especially when he makes him feel so calm and comforted, with his hands, with his words— those pure smiles and giggles, too. He deserves it all back. He speaks without thinking of the consequences of the words, doesn’t have time to realize what he says before Jungkook’s eyes light up with happiness. 

“Hm, that wasn’t intended, but I can’t say I’ll be opposed.” Jungkook looks back at Yoongi with fondness on his features again, a close-mouthed smile on display once more, and it’s all he can ask for.

So Yoongi could either remain passively awkward, say he was simply joking and escape the situation, thinks Jungkook would easily allow him a route out. Or, he could lift a hand up to Jungkook’s long hair, gently pull the half-loose hair tie off so it’s snug against his wrist, and start running his fingers through the long silky locks, from root to ends. The thought itself runs through Yoongi’s veins, light-speed in his bloodstream, until his arm moves on its own accord, and follows that exact train of thought. Yoongi finds himself watching his hand softly brushing and detangling dark long strands, playing with the hairs in a motion mimicking Jungkook’s own skilled hands. His face lights up in all shades of crimson, realizing he’s actually doing it, actually running his hand through Jungkook’s hair, and if you told him he’d be here last week he would have laughed out loud. “S-sorry,” he blurts out through the flustered heat, body freezing against Jungkook. “Sorry,” he repeats. 

“Feels nice,” Jungkook mumbles out, and if the way the younger man hums out and closes his eyes mean anything, it’s that Yoongi is doing a superb job at returning the comfort he was previously so generously lathered with. He might be chronically embarrassed and incredibly inexperienced, but he thinks he’d do this for the rest of the day, if that’s what Jungkook would need. He won’t lie— it really does feel good like this, for him, too. Soft under his fingertips and just as satisfying as the favor being returned to him. Is this why Jungkook had asked specifically to play with Yoongi’s hair? 

He thinks, he thinks he’s sort-of starting to understand Jungkook, like this. Thinks they have enough things in common to make the unexplainably easy connection they’re curating— comfortable yet challenging, even— somewhat healing. 

For the first time since they met, Yoongi manages to describe to himself what being with Jungkook feels like— to describe it is to speak of the impossible task of standing still and yet making significant advances forwards. With Jungkook against him, his soothing warmth and his comforting words, Yoongi finds he doesn't feel stuck in-between these two options. He’s living both at once.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

hi hyung!!! 

u mentioned u like to cook right

Hi jungkook-ah

Yeah, it calms me down a lot

 do u wanna make dinner together sometime? 

would love to see u again

and see u cook

and cuddle u

:3

Sure :) 

I make a good kimchi stew, if you want

Today works?

ooooooh i’m getting hungry already

send me what you need me to get and i can stop by at around 6? 

Okay, cool

See you then jungkook-ah

see you soon hyung!!

Once again in a nervous frenzy, Yoongi cleans up the dorm in the meticulous manner of a socially anxious overthinker. He preps all he’d need in the kitchen, distantly hopes the two of them would fit in the small space. When Jungkook arrives, it's with two grocery bags from the store near the dorms, and it looks like a lot more than Yoongi asked for. 

“I got carried away,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly as he takes off his shoes by the door. “I follow this American girl on Tiktok who does mukbangs and she ate like, twenty s’mores, so now I have a craving. The way the chocolate and the marshmallow melt, hyung, I could go insane. So I searched it up on Naver and you can make them in a microwave! Could we make some, hyung?”

Yoongi looks up at the younger’s face, is taken aback by the way Jungkook is talking to him, like an old friend, like someone he knows for a while and is comfortable with, not like the person he knows for barely two days that he really is. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I'm not big on sweets but maybe it could go well with some coffee.”

“Awesome! Okay, I'll wash my hands and you can order me around, hyung. Do you want me to prepare the kimchi, cook some ramen?” Jungkook asks, big eyes focused on Yoongi all pumped-up and willing, waiting for instructions.

“I thought you couldn't cook?” Yoongi raises a brow with a smile, finding that Jungkook’s energy is at least a bit contagious, the way he seems so comfortable a silent encouragement for Yoongi to unconsciously loosen up himself.

“Ah, this much I can do, hyung.” Jungkook retorts back, grins, a teasing lilt to his tone as he pushes his hoodie sleeves to his elbows and washes his hands. Yoongi is taken aback by a full tattoo-sleeve, hadn't noticed the faint lettering on his knuckles that might have posed a clue. He looks at the colorful ink painting Jungkook’s tan skin in wonder. 

“They’re pretty,” he lets out, confused as his fingers itch to touch and trace the permanently placed patterns.

Jungkook looks at Yoongi in question before he realizes what he’s referring to and bursts into a soft smile, warm and pleased and knowing. “Ah, my tattoos. Thank you, I think so too. There's one I regret, though, so I might cover it up some day. The eye over my inner elbow.”

Jungkook points a damp finger at the tattoo, looking contemplative. “It was supposed to be a reminder that I'm always being watched, but after a while I started finding the design creepy. Why did I ask for the eye color to be red? I don't know. One day I'll get it covered.”

Yoongi frowns, placing the ingredients in a neat row in front of them on the countertop. “You want a reminder that you’re always being watched on your skin?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes out. There's something magnetic in his eyes as he stares at the cutting board Yoongi brings him, thoughts passing through him before they’re granted permission out of his lips. “For the worse and for the better. I always want to be someone others can look up to. People might find it weird, but if I go through a rough time, let's say I'd watch a movie character go through the same thing. What do I want him to do to get ahead? I try to do those things.” He nods to himself as he talks, receiving the kimchi from Yoongi and cutting it into medium sized pieces, placing them inside a pot on the stovetop. “And also, remembering both the people who love me and the people who hate me are watching me, it feels like the love is more powerful. Like if it’s tug-of-war then the people who hate me are way outnumbered. It has a lot of these meanings.”

Yoongi hums, stealing another look at the tattoo decorating the younger man’s skin as he preps some meat for them. “I like the way you think about things. My brain went straight to the ‘you’re always being scrutinized’ interpretation, which is so anxiety-inducing.”

“I can see that, for sure. It’s what’s pretty about art, though. It has a million meanings when you look at it with an open mind.” Jungkook smiles to himself. He sends Yoongi a questioning look that curls into a smile. “Hey, talking about art— didn't we want some background music here?”

And so they end up blending their playlists on Spotify, letting them play out as they cook. Yoongi instructs Jungkook on how to handle the kimchi, what other ingredients they need, and lets him cook some ramen to go with it while he handles the meat and the seasoning. It’s not quiet at all, music filling any bumps in the natural flow of conversation after conversation starting whenever a new song begins playing. Jungkook explains the origin story of every song that is on his playlist, where he first heard it, why he likes it still, and prompts Yoongi to do the same with a look of utter interest that turns Yoongi red-faced. It's honestly refreshing for Yoongi, who hasn't had a proper conversation with friendly intentions with anyone who isn't Hoseok or Seokjin in too long. It seems Jungkook’s self-assured friendliness is enough to bring Yoongi out of his shell a bit.

“Oh, this one is a funny story. My first boyfriend back in highschool sent me this song saying it reminded him of me. Do you know this one?” Jungkook sends him a sideways look, checking, but still composed and dedicated to the simple tasks Yoongi gave him.

Yoongi frowns as he focuses on the easy-listening pop music, “no, I don't think so.”

“It’s a girl group song, and their brand symbol is a bunny. The nickname stuck, and since then all my friends call me any abbreviation of bunny.” Jungkook says, and without even noticing he scrunches his nose and melts into the expression most similar to a bunny Yoongi has seen of him. 

Yoongi gives Jungkook’s face an appraising look, momentarily stares at a focused pout and concentrated brows pulled together. “I have to agree, you look like a bunny. It’s something in the nose and in your smile.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to think so.” Jungkook muses. He then purses his lips, looking at Yoongi with purpose and curiosity. “You didn't even blink, at the smooth coming out.”

Yoongi catches his eye with a small amused smile. “I'm only friends with one straight person, and he does his work for the community as being at least a hundred men’s gay awakening.”

“So you're saying you had a feeling?” Jungkook scrunches his nose again with a smile.

“I'm saying most straight men would not be down to cuddle with other men they’ve known for three days.” Yoongi says, and thinks the message is pretty clear— he’s not straight either.

“Well, sucks for them, then.” Jungkook chuckles. He leans over the counter to give a long appraising look at Yoongi. “Was your friend your gay awakening, too?”

“Ah no, my hyung’s friend beat him to it.” Yoongi chuckles at the memory, of teenage crushes and unexplainable emotions, of being enamored with the idea of someone he doesn’t even know much about. It's a feeling he hasn't experienced since, not even briefly— no one has made Yoongi question himself in that overtaking way since then, has captured his mind and twirled it around their finger so easily since then, and maybe it’s for the better. Yoongi’s plate is already quite full on its own.

“That's cool. Did you date your hyung’s friend?” Jungkook asks in his child-like curiosity, wide eyes soft and interested, and not ashamed of being so. He seems to take his time with the ramen, checking the pot every-too-often, mixing the noodles incessantly. Yoongi isn't sure if he’s just a not very seasoned cook as he proclaims, or if he’s distracted by their conversation.

“Ah, no, no.” Yoongi chuckles dryly, is promptly reminded of the simple fact he’s about to disclose, of a reminder that he’s never been too good with other people, never could get someone new to see something worthwhile in him. “I've never dated anyone, actually.”

Yoongi wouldn't say he’s especially ashamed of that fact. A little embarrassed, maybe, just at the nagging feeling of being behind, but he’s never allowed himself too many thoughts about relationships. He can barely make his social anxiety allow him a moment’s relief to make a friend, so meeting a partner? Yeah, no, not a chance. He doesn't know what a relationship is like if not out of dramas and TV shows, and maybe that’s part of why he doesn't feel the unrelenting urge to be in a romantic relationship all his friends seem so hung up on. Once he gets a hold of his social anxiety, once he makes some friends, once he stops being so chronically platonically lonely… then he’ll have the capacity to worry about relationships, about other kinds of loneliness.

Jungkook’s eyes catch his in their wide surprise, grip loosening around his chopsticks. “No way! but you’re so— there's no way.”

Yoongi smiles shyly, cheeks and ears painted crimson red at the attention and at the insinuated compliment. It’s nice to hear from someone who hasn’t known him for half his life for once, who’s only just beginning to know the sum of his parts and yet holds within him the belief he should be chosen and cherished. “I'm not a very social person, so it’s not that much of a surprise.”

“There’s no way,” Jungkook shakes his head again, hair ruffling around his head in matching defiance. He adamantly refuses to accept the words and like any other time, his eyes publicly, proudly share with Yoongi the true extent of his disbelief. “If Tae-hyungie hears about this he’d flip. He thinks he’s a matchmaker.”

Soon enough, Jungkook finishes both cooking the ramen and setting the kimchi properly in the pot. Yoongi starts working on the sauce, Jungkook idly watching his hands at work, not quite needed for much anymore now that the basic ingredients have been handled. So the younger man takes the initiative and resolves to make a slow advance towards him; wraps two hands loosely around Yoongi’s slim waist, head resting atop his hoodie-clad shoulder, gentle enough to be able to retract his body at the tiniest of movements from the other man, incredibly attentive to the shifts in his muscles. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers softly, voice honey-glazed in its sweetness, nose snuggled into Yoongi’s hoodie, palms resting lazily in its pocket, joint together into a complete embrace. Yoongi has tensed up ever so slightly in the midst of Jungkook’s advance, momentarily pausing placing the meat in the now tangible stew, takes a moment to digest the position, the sturdy arms around his abdomen, the ticklish sensation of hair strands brushing his nape, the pleasant vibrations against him when Jungkook speaks. 

“Just be careful,” Yoongi replies back, equally tender-soft, hyper-aware of his senses; from the way the tingling touch feels against him through the layers of clothing, to the low music starting to play in his ears, slow guitar strums familiar and fitting to describe the way Yoongi’s body slows down at the affection, naturally conscious of the way Jungkook’s fingers tangle into one another in his hoodie’s pocket. “The water is boiling, don’t get hurt.”

Jungkook smiles into the gray fabric, closed-mouthed and sparkly-eyed in the hem of it, smells a faint scent that has him curiously nosing into the area, careful to not touch skin he hasn’t been allowed access to. “You smell good, different from last time.”

“Really? I just showered, maybe it’s that.” Yoongi hums, tries to remember if he’s put on any scented products after his shower. He skipped the lotion today for sure, not as nervous and clueless, not as worried as he’s been to meet the man who’ll hold him if allowed, not when his gut tells him he comes in the shape of a considerate, gentle soul with a heart of gold and sparkling clear-nightsky eyes. 

“It’s a little…” Jungkook trails off, inhaling softly through his nose once more. “Honey, and milk?”

“Ah,” Yoongi smiles, curling slightly into himself in embarrassment. “It’s my body wash. It’s supposed to have honey and yogurt extracts.” 

“I like it. I usually don’t like scented products but this one smells lovely.” Jungkook nods against Yoongi's body, hands tightening around him, he too seeming to be melting into the stimuli of his five senses, the firm softness of their touch, the warmth of skin against skin, the sweet mouth-watering scent of Yoongi’s body wash, the familiar kitchenette they share, and soon— the taste of homemade kimchi stew on their taste-buds. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi chuckles. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I have a sensitive nose.” Jungkook shrugs. His eyes trail over Yoongi’s expert hands and study the way he seasons the stew, movements practiced until they’re second nature. Yoongi feels the eyes on him, feels the curious weight of his gaze, the miniature tilt of his head on Yoongi’s shoulder for a better view. “Do you need any more help, hyung?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “you’re doing great, Jungkook-ah, let hyung cook for you.”

“Ah, hyung,” Jungkook giggles, squirming where he hugs Yoongi’s frame, tightening the hold around his torso and bursting into a wide grin. “You just gave me the shivers, was it so easy to guess I like being spoiled?”

“You look like you’re either the youngest son or the youngest in your friend-group. Lucky you, I like taking care of people, so it’s all good.” Yoongi lowers his head shyly, before shaking his head in disbelief at his own thoughts, not quite understanding the phenomenon he’s about to bring up himself. “You’re— you’re making it way too easy to forget we just met the other day.”

“I am the youngest in both my family and my friend-group,” Jungkook speaks in his conscious-softness, careful with every syllable but self-assured all the same. There are goosebumps spreading on the skin of Yoongi’s arms as the words are uttered in such close proximity to his ears, voice needn't be more than a whisper to catch on his eardrums. “I think, I think there’s intimacy in speaking about our worries, the ones we don't often share. If you start off with the difficult conversations, all the rest feel like they’re a walk in the park, you know? That's why, that’s why I want to know you, hyung. All the things that are hard, and are difficult. Knowing your favorite color or food doesn't weigh the same.”

Yoongi swallows his nerves, fingers twitching where they’re mixing the pot, and he’s sure Jungkook can feel the hectic beat of his heart through his ribs and his muscle-tissue and the thickness of his hoodie fabric. It’s an invitation. A careful, considerate, easy-to-evade invitation. One that Yoongi can simply hum along to without the commitment of supplying a reply. But there’s something, there’s something there, maybe it’s the snug hold of Jungkook’s palms in his pocket, closer to his skin than the rest of him, fidgeting in their endless force of energy and disorienting Yoongi’s easily distracted thought process. Maybe it’s his breath on his skin, warm and oddly calming, the steady rhythm fighting off the season’s chill spread through the dorm. And maybe, maybe it’s once again, the honesty. The way Yoongi doesn't doubt for a second that if he complies, if he accepts the invitation, Jungkook would surely, undoubtedly follow suit. Yoongi hums, half in defeat, half in relief, and he talks. “I miss my friends, and how things used to be between us. I'm angry at myself that I can’t just talk to them like a normal human being. I keep finding these excuses. My social anxiety has always excluded them, and now it doesn't and I feel like shit. Guilty and, and helpless, and like a horrible friend. And the worst part is that it’s just me, it’s me who’s stopping myself, I'm aware, and yet I can’t bring myself to do anything about it— it feels like I have no right to complain.”

Jungkook’s hands slowly move away from Yoongi’s pocket, tracing the fabric of his hoodie until they’re set firm at his waist, secure, tighter than they usually are— welcomed happily all the same. “You feel vulnerable,” Jungkook breathes out. “Out of control.”

“Yes,” Yoongi nods, settles with his hands against the counter, standing still and quiet, heart beating out of his chest contradicting with the looseness of his muscles and joints. His eyes focus on the counter, allowing his brain to focus on the words he’s hearing. He lets the stew simmer for a moment, allowing himself to dive into the intense static around them, hyper-sensitive to the atmosphere and energy surrounding them. There’s a certain intensity in the air, a tension so sharp it can be cut with one knife-stroke, but not unpleasantly so.

“You want to be good to everyone,” Jungkook continues, his voice steady, almost measured, like he’s holding his breath. “You’re afraid of making mistakes, of doing something wrong.”

“I— I am,” he breathes out, looking down at the way Jungkook’s thumbs caress his sides, ticklish on top of the fabric, tattooed knuckles in view. 

With a dry chuckle, Jungkook exhales and buries his face in Yoongi's neck. “Me too, hyung. It’s funny, we— we’re different but we’re also the same. You’re afraid, so you choose to do nothing, and I'm afraid, so I choose to do everything. I, I overcompensate— the thought of being disliked is so terrifying to me that I rather just make everyone happy, and— it’s tiring, just— exhausting. This semester, I found myself organizing four different study groups for the same course, with my notes and references passed around the entirety of the class like free estate, only to be the one to fail while the others pass. It feels like it should be a lesson, you know? A wake up call, to open my eyes and stuff, but, I just feel used? Jimin-hyung— my friend from home, he says I don't know how to protect my own boundaries.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi purses his lips, eyes jumping between the unmoving countertop and the fidgeting fingers in the fabric of his hoodie, micromovements felt like radiating waves. “You really should focus more on yourself, you— you’re just as important as everyone else, okay?”

“I— I know that, but in the moment it’s... it’s easy to forget. I’m working on remembering that my value doesn't stem from how useful I am to others, but the process isn’t linear, to say the least.” Jungkook whispers out, hands fisting in the extra fabric of Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and nose stuffing itself further against Yoongi’s shoulder, seeking the warmth and comfort Yoongi can only hope to exude like Jungkook himself excels at emitting so effortlessly.

“I hope— I hope you don’t— this, this cuddling set-up, you said you do it for you,” Yoongi trips over his words, not sure how to formulate the question without coming off too worried, without making Jungkook feel bad at the implication, without making this about himself.

“I do, please don’t be worried, hyung. This is— actually the most, um, selfish I’ve been, in a while, this cuddle-buddy set-up.” Yoongi hears Jungkook exhale shakily into his shoulder, warm breath puffing against his clothed collarbone. “With others, before, too. But especially with you, for some reason.”

“I'm glad, then, Jungkook-ah. You’re— really brave, and, and patient with yourself, and, I'm rooting for you, really.” Yoongi nods to himself as he speaks, feeling Jungkook’s hold against him tighten. It’s easier when they aren’t facing each other, and maybe that makes Yoongi a coward, maybe it takes away from the value of their confessions, but neither of them seem to care. Heartbeats are racing with the adrenaline of vulnerability and hushed out confessions in the privacy of their embrace and, Jungkook was right, wasn't he? Yoongi feels like he could say just about anything now, when the worst of it is out in the air, heard loud and clear, and even returned in equal measure.

“Ah,” Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head to rid of his thoughts with a light-hearted sound, “these type of conversations make me feel so perceived , my brain hates it,” he laughs, wiggling and twisting from side to side, Yoongi following in his hold, shaken like a ragdoll in the other’s grip. He can't help a smile from taking over his lips at Jungkook’s physical attempt of ridding of his very intangible thoughts. When he settles, he breathes out; “but I feel good after the embarrassment is gone, it’s worth it.”

“Ah, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi laughs, shaking his head, once again steady against the floor, thinking to himself— Jungkook really is one of a kind. “Let's eat, okay? Let's eat.”

Jungkook chuckles and lets go of Yoongi’s waist, helping him plate two portions and bringing them to the table with the needed silverware. They sit on the floor, Jungkook comfortable enough to teasingly nose-scrunch at Yoongi and put a show he’s watching these days on Yoongi’s TV as if it’s his own, and the atmosphere change is sudden but comfortable, Jungkook’s energy ever-contagious. 

“Woah, this kimchi stew is better than my mom’s, hyung,” Jungkook frowns before taking another mouthful, half-giggling half-serious, digging in with vigor. Soon he’s finishing his second serving, and leaning back against the couch with a pleased groan, Yoongi chuckling at him. 

“Should I make the s’mores now? Sugar might help with the food coma,” Jungkook hums, not waiting for a reply to make himself at home in Yoongi’s kitchen— perhaps because it is quite literally identical to his own— and Yoongi can't help but laugh absurdly at Jungkook taking out the marshmallows, biscuits and chocolate bar from the plastic bag. He looks back at Yoongi, the latter still on the floor with unexplainable fondness to a man he’s barely had the time to get to know, watching said man laughing to himself between teasing looks at Yoongi, opening up drawers until he eventually succeeds in finding a plate. 

“The girl on Tiktok said to microwave for thirty seconds. The marshmallow doubled in size, so I really wanna see if it works,” Jungkook narrates, sending looks back to a smiling, attentively listening Yoongi who doesn't even enjoy sweets, before placing the sandwiched marshmallows inside the microwave. “Okay, if this doesn't work it's a sign for me to find a healthy diet and stop whining that my gym routine isn't effective.”

Jungkook almost hops on his feet while he waits, energy unsubsiding, updating Yoongi with the seconds remaining, and jumping into action when the one second mark hits. He takes the plate out of the microwave with the sweet treats and hurries over to Yoongi, placing the plate before him on the table. “Try, it, hyung, hyung, try it—” 

Wordlessly, Yoongi grabs one, the marshmallows really are twice their size, puffed up, and when he takes a bite the melted marshmallow sticks to his lips. It's both so sweet and so hot that Yoongi’s unprepared. He looks at Jungkook wide-eyed and the latter bursts into laughter, his s’more half-gone and the sides of his lips painted brown from melted chocolate. 

“S’really good, right?” Jungkook says, mouth full and smiling, though his brows are furrowed, as if in concentration, focusing on the taste. “Wait, I have to take a picture for Tae-hyungie.”

Jungkook digs his phone out and takes a picture of the plate, before frowning a different kind of frown, one that folds his lips downwards too. He ends up flipping the camera and holding a s’more up in the frame, messy lips and Yoongi in the background awkwardly licking melted chocolate off his thumb, s’more half eaten back on the plate. 

Jungkook shows the picture to Yoongi, gets the okay and sends it to Taehyung. In a matter of seconds he finishes his s’more and stares narrow-eyed at Yoongi. “You don't like my s’mores.”

“It's too sweet for me,” Yoongi coffesses, apologetic but also amused. “But— more for you, yeah?”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Jungkook snorts, digs into the rest, finishes four s’mores and honestly both of them should be worried about his sugar intake but— he seems happy, so Yoongi doesn't say a thing but smiles at him. Licking his fingers clean along with the sides of his lips, Jungkook moans, “I swear I'm going to the gym tomorrow, I'll even have a protein shake, it’s gonna balance out, right?”

Yoongi laughs out loud, “I'm the last person you should ask, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook flops against the couch again, stomach full and sugar-craving sated. His head rolls to the side, blinking up at Yoongi, eyes looking even larger than they usually are. “Hyungie, I'm all heavy from the food, you wanna cuddle?”

Yoongi only chuckles, nodding, gets up with a fond smile and clears out their plates, placing them in the sink and spraying some water on them for later-tonight-Yoongi’s sake. The atmosphere seems to simmer down, Jungkook waiting for Yoongi to lead the way this time, watching from the floor as the older man takes a reluctant seat on the bed, face flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and adrenaline. “It might be comfier than the couch,” he supplies, though his nerves are inflating in his gut, pulling him down from whatever high Jungkook had put him under. 

Jungkook nods without complaint, climbing onto the bed, albeit more reluctantly than he’s settled over Yoongi’s couch, probably mirroring Yoongi’s hesitancy, most likely seeing his tense muscles and skittish eye contact for what they are— his attentiveness ingrained in his every move, complimenting so seamlessly to his already incredibly wholesome character. 

“You’re nervous,” Jungkook declares, and is not wrong. His voice lacks its previous energy, no longer messing around. It’s back to being breathy-gentle and carefully wording everything Yoongi needs to hear as if he’s somehow acquired unlimited access into his brain. “We’re just laying down, you don't need to do anything. I'll hug you like before, from behind, only we’re laying down. Would you rather we do something else?”

“Ah, no, it’s okay. I've just never… so it’s— eh. Embarrassing.” Yoongi blushes at his own words, knows he's mentioned it before but still gets red-faced and hot in the tips of his ears when confessing it out loud and out in the open. A little shameful. A little insecure, about being inexperienced in the most natural, in-born and fundamental need that is human touch and affection, let alone intimacy. “Just gonna, um. Lay down now.”

Jungkook only smiles, all soft edges and comforting body-warmth, laying on his side like some kind of painted medieval lady, and just the sight makes Yoongi chuckle, easing into the mattress and onto his back, sending a nervous look to the other man waiting for him to settle comfortably. And Jungkook’s aura is— patient. Kind and gentle. His expression doesn’t usher Yoongi, his body doesn’t reach to move him the right direction, his words are threaded with the delicate manner of someone with all the time in the world, with infinite will to wait for as long as he’s needed, to watch and instruct and correct in the softest hushed tones and with the warmest encouraging smiles. Yoongi is hit with an overwhelming tightness in his rib cage at being treated with such consideration, even when he was the one to initiate this and yet is the one who’s afraid to follow it through. He feels like he’s a newly-formed body of water, only now learning to retain its resting shape in the lack of turbulent and forceful waves. In that analogy, Jungkook is the surrounding shore, supportive and grounding, sturdy, there ; there if he makes the wrong move, there if he needs to be pointed in the right direction, there if he just needs to stop trying, for a moment. Distantly, Yoongi wonders once again, if these are qualities Jungkook has been raised into by outstanding parents, or if he’s acquired them through life, through enough friends, enough partners, enough cuddle-buddies to teach him a thing or two about the basics of human connection. Yoongi feels— he feels important, when Jungkook looks at him this way, when the smile he wears so often softens as he regards him and his insignificant struggles. It makes it so much easier to fall into a well-earned halo of trust in the younger.

“Let's turn to the side,” Jungkook instructs, a gentle loop-sided smile sent in return to Yoongi’s wide-eyed one, his palm resting encouragingly against Yoongi’s hip until he’s facing away from Jungkook, and so help him god, even with all the trust inside of him of Jungkook’s wholesome expression, the moment it edges out of Yoongi’s view— these few moments before Jungkook comes closer are what hell on earth might be for Yoongi’s personalized, customized suffering. He manages to freak out in those ten seconds more than he freaked out that first time on the couch and, ah, this is so incredibly embarrassing he sort of wants to bury himself alive, it doesn’t matter Jungkook is kind because Yoongi is anxious and why is time stretching so slowly all of a sudden, he knows there’s nothing to look at from behind, that he’s not being stared-down and judged by the most wholesome angel-eyed sugar-cube-sweet man, but still feels so perceived, insecurity rushing into his brain instead of oxygen and almost prompting him to jolt out of his bed with a badly made-up excuse—

But then a palm is squeezed between Yoongi’s waist and the mattress, filling the gap, and an arm is thrown over him, used as leverage to gently pull Yoongi’s body backwards, closer, and the warmth of the touch snaps him out of the loop. They’re not flushed together, but are close enough for Jungkook’s chest to be pressed into Yoongi’s back, and for their socked feet to tickle one another by accident. Jungkook takes a few deep breaths, long and steady and vibrating down to the faintest intake against Yoongi’s back. Yoongi, hyper-aware of their proximity, monitors these breaths in his head, counting the seconds he manages to hold his breath to them. And then with a final exhale that Yoongi is suspecting is entirely for his sake, Jungkook gently presses his face into the junction between Yoongi’s neck and his shoulder, weight not entirely placed on Yoongi but flushed into his hoodie and skin all the same. 

And now Yoongi can focus on the younger’s heartbeat beating at his back, on the fingers reaching almost too slowly for Yoongi’s pinky where his palm is sprawled on the mattress, hooking around it and tracing along the fingernail, around the curved half-circle of his cuticle. 

“Is this okay?” Jungkook breathes out, quiet enough to barely be heard, soft soft soft but catching onto Yoongi’s ear in the minimal distance. Jungkook’s fingers play with Yoongi’s pinky in slow circles, like it’s the outlet to his fidgets. Jungkook’s infinite energy source looking for relief in the almost still position.

“Yeah, just— what should I do with my hands?” Yoongi asks, risking his face and neck turning four shades brighter in alarming red tones, barely whispers that out, but knows Jungkook hears it. Yoongi feels safer when he has instructions, and Jungkook has been providing them unprompted since the beginning, maybe it’s part of why it’s not as awkward as it should be, not as intensely overwhelming for Yoongi’s unprepared brain. He asks, because even though it hasn’t been too long that they've known each other, he feels like he knows , is convinced, has previous evidence to support that— Jungkook will most likely smile, that one soft close-mouthed, squinted warm-eyed smile, and without a silver of judgment, give him a solution, a reply.

“I have an idea, can I?” Jungkook asks, hears Yoongi’s confirming hum, and gently angles Yoongi’s arm to lay wrist-up in front of him, milky limb almost dangling off the mattress, hoodie sleeve pushed up up up as high as is comfortable. Jungkook takes his fingers, those same ones that have been toying with his pinky, and repositions them at Yoongi’s wrist, stretching his own arm across Yoongi’s waist in order to reach the soft, thin expanse of pale skin. He doesn't say anything more before starting an almost tickling, unordered pattern of light caresses against Yoongi’s skin, up until his bicep where his sleeve blocks the way.

Then he simply continues in a thought-numbing cycle of return and repeat, lowering back to Yoongi’s wrist and up up across his inner elbow, along his arm. It’s ticklish, with the extra thin skin-tissue proving to be more sensitive than expected, and Yoongi’s arm bursts into shivers, which Jungkook’s fingers tingle along.

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, making Yoongi wonder if there’s a person on earth who would not find this incredibly pleasing, who would not wish to shut out all their senses but the one who allows them this, who would not want to have their skin caressed in the same manner, until their bodies forget they were tense in the first place. 

Yoongi nods, eventually, hums a little, too. And Jungkook nods back against his shoulder, nose stuffed in, already familiar with the collar of Yoongi’s hoodie. The younger man seems to loosen up as well, pressing a little more of his weight against Yoongi, melting a little more into the mattress, legs shyly reaching to almost-tangle with Yoongi’s shorter ones, but not quite, just their feet meeting in a curious little dance until they settle one between the others.

“Not so scary, is it?” Jungkook mumbles, hugging Yoongi tighter with his free hand, and Yoongi has a thought in the back of his head that his lisp is a little stronger than it was a moment ago, that it’s almost sweet, honey-thick, words dripping into one another.

“Not so scary,” Yoongi whispers back, fingers twitching where they trace against the fabric of his bedsheets. 

“S’not scary once it becomes familiar.” Jungkook mumbles again, significantly less comprehensible. Yoongi wants to turn around and look, but feels too comfortable, rough knuckles and soft fingers taking turns grazing the skin of his inner arm, pace slowing down ever so slightly alongside both Yoongi and Jungkook’s heartbeats thrumming in their chests. Jungkook’s palm against Yoongi’s waist and the mattress has its thumb moving back and forth against Yoongi’s lower back and the repetitive motions start taking a toll on Yoongi’s consciousness. With the darkness from outside and the quiet around them, Yoongi’s thoughts are close to nonexistent, a sleepy haze overtaking his senses. Jungkook’s heavy, slowed-out breaths are what pull him under, fingers steady against his arm.

When Yoongi wakes up, the sun greets him sourly. He squints his eyes at the open curtain in distaste, pushing his head into the crook of his arm to block out the unappreciated sunrays. It takes him a moment to get a decent enough grasp of reality, groggy and foggy-minded with the warmest, deepest night of rest he’s had in his life. The return of his senses starts with the realization that something is heavy on his shoulder. 

When he moves his head to face sideways, he’s faced with Jungkook’s mop of hair, messy and ruffled up all over his face and pillow, perched into Yoongi’s neck, hiding from the sunbeams. His left shoulder is on top of Yoongi’s right, muscled arm thrown over his waist and a leg tangled between Yoongi’s. 

Huh. 

They… fell asleep again. Yoongi rams his brain for a coherent memory of when exactly they had gotten into bed, and doesn't remember specifics except that it was somewhere between late-evening and early-nighttime. To wake up after the sun— the meaning washes over sleepy, misty-headed Yoongi in slow, underwhelming waves. Does this mean, then, that Jungkook… spent the night?

That realization seems to do the trick in waking Yoongi up properly. He grimaces as he pulls his weight from under Jungkook’s sleep-warmed body and shimmies his way out of bed, kneeling at the foot of it with worried, unsure eyes, watching Jungkook stir awake at the rustles and movements. Yoongi bites his lip with unexplainable nerves. This is undoubtedly uncharted territory for Yoongi. Not only has he never slept next to another person who isn’t family or Seokjin and Hoseok, he’s never woken up pressed into them, warm under their steady weight. It’s so bizarrely domestic with a person he’s known for four days now, and, why the hell isn’t he as freaked out as he should be? There's a vast difference between an afternoon nap and a whole, full night of uninterrupted— oddly peaceful— soundly sleep.

“Hmm?” Jungkook mumbles into Yoongi’s pillow, hair smushed under his weight, eyes still closed until the moment he, too, realizes through his own groggy mind, exactly what’s happening. “Oh.”

“It’s seven twenty two. I just woke up.” Yoongi rubs at his eyes, voice gruff and raspy from sleep, willing his brain and body alike to wake up. “We, um. Fell asleep. Again.”

“I'm sorry,” Jungkook opens his puffy eyes, squinting at Yoongi and lifting himself to a sitting position on the bed, hoodie and sweats a crumpled pool of fabric on his flushed skin. “We didn't discuss staying over, I should have been more responsible.”

“It’s um— it’s fine. Again, I fell asleep too, so…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, nervously biting his lips, cheeks pink with embarrassment. It’s not even the fact that they spent a night sleeping in each other’s arms; it’s more about the unavoidable fact that Yoongi has never felt more content in his entire life in the few moments before he removed himself from the safest embrace he could ever imagine. Not even his dreams could come up with a feeling quite so overpowering of bliss; warm, unaware, embraced. The way Jungkook’s hard-muscled, fabric-clad skin pressed into him makes his body melt on cue should very much worry him, but the thing is, Yoongi can easily attribute his easy cooperativeness to how tragically desperate he’s been to be held just in this manner, and oh, how gratifying it is to finally be held.

Jungkook shakes his head with a frown. “This is your place, you get to sleep whenever you want— but not me. I really am sorry. I don't know, something about you just makes me all… calm.” Jungkook looks away, something contemplative in his eyes, a small wrinkle between his brows. “I’ll pay more attention, next time, I promise it won’t happen again, hyung.”

“I don't… really mind? The, um. Napping, or sleeping. Let’s just talk about it first, yeah?” Yoongi scratches the back of his head, letting his hands fall into his lap where he’s crouched on the bedside.

“Okay, yeah. Whatever you feel comfortable with, hyung.” Jungkook nods to himself, eyes for once— guarded, clouded with something that for the first time, Yoongi can’t decipher. The younger man runs an absentminded hand through his sleep-messy hair, and sends a nervous look at Yoongi. “I'm sorry, I won’t overstay my welcome any more than I already have.”

“Don't— don’t say that. You’re more than welcome to stay, it’s not like I have anything to do, anyway. You— you’re more than decent company, you know.” Yoongi looks away, before finding Jungkook’s eyes again with a silver of an eye-smile, a raised brow testing the waters.

“I don't have anything planned either— except the gym but I can do that later.” Jungkook smiles sheepishly, seeming prominently relieved at the reassurance he isn't intruding, settling more comfortably to sit on the edge of the bed, curled forward to rest his head on his hands perched against his lap, getting closer to Yoongi with a soft smile, the residue of guilt still a bit noticeable but not strong enough to bother either of them. “What if I make you breakfast to make up for it?”

“You? Breakfast?” Yoongi chuckles, brow raised. “I thought you couldn't cook.” 

“Hyung!” Jungkook huffs, mildly offended but slowly easing into wearing his signature blinding, bunny grin again, making Yoongi’s heart lose its added weight. “Making eggs and rice is hardly considered cooking. I was honestly counting on you having some kimchi or pickled radish or some other sides but if you don’t I could go grab some from my dorm, you know, it’s only a minute away.”

“Of course I have kimchi, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi retaliates, perplexed at the insinuation that he doesn’t, flicking Jungkook’s arm with his pointer finger before heading towards the fridge. He takes out the containers of side-dishes and leans on the counter. “Can you work a rice-cooker?”

“Hyung!” Jungkook complains, grumbling his way towards Yoongi, pushing his tongue out in defiance at his smiling form. He gets the rice-cooker working before sending Yoongi a pointed pout. “See?”

Yoongi bursts into a gummy smile at him, obviously aware he can do that and far more, but still dazy with sleep and feeling comfortable enough to tease. “Good job, Jungkook-ah. Hyung’s proud.”

Yoongi leaves Jungkook to it, staring him down with an amused expression as he plates all the side-dishes along with servings of rice, cooks them poached eggs and even sets the table up for them. 

When they start eating, between pleased, appreciative hums, Jungkook asks, “can I be honest about something, hyung?”

Yoongi stares at him, fish-eyed with a mouthful of rice, and nods. 

“I have sleeping issues,” Jungkook admits, before downing his glass of water in one go. “I haven't slept a full night like this since before I started going to university.”

Yoongi might have swallowed his rice but his mouth is still unprepared to speak, not with that confession and its implications speaking volumes on their own, filling up the silence. “O-oh.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook looks back at his food, shoulders slouched. “It’s probably why I fall asleep all the time, but it’s never happened before, with— other people I cuddle with, only a couple times with Jimin-hyung. You— um, you have an interesting effect on me. I need to figure it out, but… it’s just easy to drift off here. Or— with you. I'm not sure if it’s the dorm, or you, or the break… I don't know. All I know is that it feels good, and that I was relieved that you weren't bothered by it.”

“I slept really well, too, actually. You're— very good at this, um, cuddling thing.” That makes Jungkook laugh, chuckling out loud and flashing his teeth in a charming grin. “If you want, we can meet at your dorm and, uh, test out if it’s me, or the dorm. I wouldn't mind, I know you’re not a catfish anymore.”

“Definitely not a catfish,” Jungkook chuckles, eyes squinting with a smile. “I'd love that, actually. This is going to sound weird but— I have this blanket, hyung. And I think you're going to love it.” Yoongi snorts, causing Jungkook’s brows to frown. “Don’t laugh, hey, don’t laugh!”

“You wanna show me your blanket ?” Yoongi forces back his laugh, gums still out with an open mouthed smile he can’t contain. “Wah, is this how you pick people up these days? I’m shocked.”

“I’m not—! Hyung! Just wait and see, okay? Don’t laugh, just trust me!” Jungkook complains, pouting and a second from stomping his feet in defiance. “It’s what I use when I have no one around and I get that, that nagging feeling of just— needing someone to— hold me. It’s really heavy and— you’ll see.”

Yoongi’s teasing smile softens into an understanding one, all-too-familiar with that exact feeling. He nods at the other man, “yeah, okay. I'll come try out your cuddle blanket. What time should I stop by?”

“I hope I'm not hogging all of your time,” Jungkook bites at his inner cheek, big eyes sparkling in a mixture of worry and wonder. “We've been meeting every day, and the break is ending in a couple of days. You’re more than welcome to stop by any other day, hyung.”

“I have nothing to do but soak in my boredom and scroll through Naver articles. I'd much rather spend time with you, you’re far more entertaining than the latest boy group scandal, Jungkook-ah.”

Both of Jungkook's lip corners lift up before spreading into his familiar grin, eyes squinted in an honest display of happiness. He looks so pleased Yoongi is tempted to repeat himself just to keep him smiling. “I like spending time with you too, hyung. Come over tonight?”

Yoongi’s heart vibrates in his chest at the direct affirmation, all worries about Jungkook’s opinion of him seeming so far away, so ridiculous. The other man would never say something like this without meaning it wholeheartedly. Jungkook almost whispers the last part, a shy smile and big sparkly eyes staring all lovely and honest into Yoongi’s. He’s almost entranced by the unadulterated emotion in the younger's eyes, doesn't even realize he’s nodding until Jungkook flashes his grin once more. Yoongi licks his lips nervously when he realizes, plays with the food on his plate as a distraction from the way his heart beats wildly in his chest. “When tonight?”

Jungkook doesn't blink before spilling unfiltered words out of pouty lips stretched into a shy smile, lashes fluttering as his eyes trail away from Yoongi. “If you come at 7 we could watch a movie and cuddle up, if you come at 8 I’ll probably fall asleep on you again. If it’s any later than that I’ll definitely fall asleep on you again.” 

“Sounds like the chances of you falling asleep on me are pretty high.” Yoongi points out, cocking his head to the side with a smile, teeth peeking out.

“Yes.” Jungkook doesn't even try to deny, big eyes unapologetic as he nods.

“I don't mind if you do,” Yoongi adds.

“Noted— very excitedly if I may add.” Jungkook nods his head with the energy of a puppy wagging his tail. 

“By now you're not here for cuddles, you just want to sleep,” Yoongi scrunches his nose at him, smiling fondly as warmth fills his cheeks. He says it as a joke, mostly, but also can’t help but feel his heart responding to the confirmation rooting itself in Yoongi's head slowly but surely; that Jungkook wants his company, wants to hold him against his body in a comfort-infused embrace, wants to sleep next to him for a nap and for a full-night, too. 

“And eat your kimchi stew and demolish you at Mario Kart and hear you talk about yourself and your life and your worries and also your dreams— but we haven’t reached that yet.” Something about Jungkook’s eyes screams boldness and an odd but overwhelmingly refreshing lack of fear— or abundance of courage; Yoongi hasn’t figured out which one of these is it yet. It makes Yoongi’s heart beat faster in his chest, makes something ticklish stem in the pit of his stomach.

“Y-you’re really straightforward, you know that?” Yoongi mumbles into his hand, staring in disbelief, covering his mouth as he laughs his embarrassment out. 

“I don’t feel like I have a reason to hide anything with you,” Jungkook shrugs, taking a nonchalant bite of his poached egg, making this sound like a relaxed breakfast conversation instead of the emotional heart-to-heart in the A.Ms it should be. “I don’t think you’d judge me. You wouldn’t share so much of yourself with me if you were the type to judge so quickly.”

“I wouldn’t judge you,” Yoongi nods, agreeing without an ounce of hesitation, but the idea of someone not being worried in the slightest about baring themselves open to an almost-maybe-sort-of stranger still doesn’t sit well with him. “It’s still— baffling. No one is honest to that extent. I’ve never met someone like you.”

“I’m not always like this,” Jungkook smiles softly, eye-crinkles filling with something milder, something surer. Looking down at his food almost shyly, chopsticks playing around with his kimchi, Jungkook continues. “I know we haven't known each other for long but for some strange reason my brain trusts you. I'm the type of person to listen to my gut feelings at all times— they've never been wrong before.”

“I'm also— warming up much quicker than I usually do. It might be the um, cuddling and stuff, the physical touch… but also something about you is just… really pure? Sorry if that’s weird. It’s easy to relax around you and put down my defenses because of that.” Yoongi allows the words out as his brain strings them, momentarily releasing the ever-secure hold of his overthinking mind, almost in a relieved sigh, consisting of the same charged, bare energy Jungkook and Yoongi's conversations are often filled with. 

“Maybe we’re just a good fit,” Jungkook smiles, eyes squinting, pleased warmth unmissable in the starlight-decorated orbs.

“Maybe,” Yoongi returns, a small smile on his own lips, liking the way the validation makes his heart flutter, liking knowing clearly that his complicated feelings are mirrored in the other man. The lack of understanding of how quickly he’s gotten used to Jungkook’s presence and touch and honesty in the very, very few days they’ve known each other— a shared sentiment in the both of them. “Yeah, maybe.”

After they finish their food Yoongi bids Jungkook goodbye, the younger teasing him all the way until he’s outside the door. The rest of Yoongi’s lonesome afternoon is boring, empty, he can’t seem to find himself. His brain is so used to being busy during the semester and barely having time to breathe— he doesn't really know what to do with himself now that he has no commitments whatsoever. It appears to get worse without Jungkook’s distracting presence; he's left scrolling aimlessly on his phone. He decides to check on his friends, who still have one exam left. It’s been a few days since a message has been sent in their group chat.

min yoongi: are you two alive?

jinnie: barely

why did I even decide to go to school

should have moved to work at my uncle’s farm

i wouldn't have any worries except if the strawberries were ripe 

or if bugs were eating them

wouldn't have any calculus in my simple, handsome brain

jung hoseok~: jin hyung don't talk about bugs!!!

i have enough accumulated stress!!!!!!!!!

i haven't seen a human being not through a zoom meeting in a week.

min yoongi: u sound like me hoba

if u two ever need a break let me know we could meet up

miss u a little 

i hope ur exams go well :3

Sighing, he finds himself staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He's bored. His friends are busy. He doesn't feel like doing anything either; this is one reason he hates waking up early on breaks— the day is longer and he has to busy himself through it. He's never been too good at doing that. If he doesn’t find a distraction, he might stumble into his thoughts again, and no one wants that to happen. No one wants to be faced with the issues they’re running away from.

So he turns off his brain and insecurities, empowered by their latest conversation, and texts Jungkook.

I'm bored jungkook-ah

lololol hyung that quickly?

Yeah

When are you going to the gym?

I'm on my way now!!

Oh sorry I won’t bother u then

it’s ok i’m not there yet i wanna text :D

Good because I’m really bored

I even considered playing mario kart

But I think it’ll be boring without u sabotaging me

it’s called ~strategy hyunggg

Yeah yeah whatever gamer boy

>:( 

not a boy!! i'm a man!!!!

Yeah yeah whatever gamer man

you're rude when you're bored!!!!!

it’s cute

if you’re so bored I have a proposition

I’m listening

find something for us to do before we cuddle tonight?

you said we could nap/sleep so choose whichever it is you’re comfy with

and think if maybe you have a preference for how we cuddle? i'm down for anything 

let me know when u decide!!!!!

gym now!!! bye hyungie

Bye jungkook-ah

I’ll let u know

Yeah okay, so maybe Yoongi didn't expect to get tasked with finding new cuddle positions or bonding experiences. It is something to occupy himself with, though, so he puts down his phone with a sigh. 

He liked it when he was pulled small and compact under Jungkook’s arm and into his chest, he liked it when the other man was pressed into his back, he liked to wake up with a head full of messy long hair tucked into his neck, too. He liked that Jungkook was bigger than him, he’d admit it felt a lot safer in his embrace that way, like he was simultaneously floating and held down, so he could go thoughtless for a bit; so he assumes he’d prefer to still be the little spoon. Does this necessarily mean Jungkook will be pressed against his back? Yoongi doesn't have the knowledge that comes with experience nor the creativity to come up with something new, and he refuses to search this up on Naver; so he figures he’ll just stick to something they've already done. He liked when he wasn't facing Jungkook, just for the small comfortability of privacy, of his face being hidden from view as he wallowes in his embarrassment and insecurity. He is a lot more comfortable with Jungkook but— his brain spirals easily.

Okay, yeah, he figures. They can nap today, just nap, on the couch. Cuddled up in one of the corners, maybe draped over with that blanket Jungkook had vouched for. 

Sounds nice. Nice enough, actually, that Yoongi starts to feel that tingle on his skin, anticipation traveling along his legs and arms, demanding contact. So he grabs his phone again. 

Is it okay if we just nap today? I thought maybe on the couch… I’ll be the little spoon?

anything you want hyung 

:)

See you later then

Time passes agonizingly slowly until the moment Yoongi stands in front of Jungkook’s door, knocking to signal his arrival. Yoongi starts to wonder if it’s healthy that the highlight of his every day in the past four days has been meeting Jungkook. 

“Hi, hyungie,” Jungkook grins when the door opens, crossing his hands over his chest with a teasing grin and a scrunched up nose. “Missed me much?”

“A moderate amount,” Yoongi smiles back, teasing. Jungkook shakes his head at him with a smile, moving away to let him in. Yoongi takes his shoes off and follows Jungkook inside. The dorm is identical to his own except for Jungkook’s private belongings decorating the space; cream-colored cotton bedsheets with a few black throw pillows on top of the bed. In the sitting area there's a much more well-used and loved gaming console with a matching gaming chair, those with the colorful led lights attached. It makes Yoongi smile to himself. As Yoongi walks further inside, he notices the wall near the bed has pictures decorating it, printed out selfies and family pictures alike, Yoongi thinks he can guess which one of the people is Jungkook’s dad— almost an indistinguishable older version of him. There are many people in those pictures, many friend groups and many family members; from children to elderly and Jungkook has taken the time to tape them all to the wall near his bed. Yoongi’s heart clenches. He himself hasn’t really decorated his space, just a few pictures of his family dog Holly on his fridge. He’s struck with the idea of taking inspiration from Jungkook and making his place feel just as home-y. 

“I took out the blanket for us, you’re gonna love it. Are you sure you want to go right in to cuddle?” Jungkook asks as he leads him to the same ugly gray couch, familiar except for the various gaming equipment littered around it. “I'm going to make us some drinks. Is coffee okay?”

“You shouldn't have coffee at night if you have trouble falling asleep,” Yoongi scolds, a light berating tap onto Jungkook's arm to emphasize his message. “Could I have tea?”

“Yeah, of course. I'll make myself some hot chocolate then, since hyung scolded me.” Jungkook says with a big shiny grin, taking two mugs out and making them their drinks. When he’s done he places the steaming mugs on the table and grabs a thick, mauve-colored wool blanket from the bed, placing it on the arm of the couch on standby. “This is my blanket, you’re going to leave later today wishing you could steal it. But first, let’s cuddle, hyungie. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh- uh, I'm not sure about the specifics but— um, I just wanna be the little spoon if that’s okay.” Yoongi sends a bashful smile, cheeks reddened the longer Jungkook’s attentive eyes search through his expression, the longer his watchful eyes stay on him. 

“Of course. How would you feel about sitting between my legs with your back against my chest?” Jungkook blinks at him, big eyes sparkling with the reflection of the fluorescent lights and watching Yoongi colors progressively more and more pink from the neck up. 

“Um— I guess, we can try.” Yoongi says, and means specifically that he isn't too sure, thinks it's a little more intimate than hes used to, than they've been used to, but also remembers he wasn't sure the last two times as well and ended up in heaven on earth so— he’s going to give it a try. For a reason he hasn't figured out yet, he trusts that Jungkook would easily let him go if he appeared to dislike it.

And Jungkook seems to understand his hesitance; he doesn't make Yoongi stand up to sit in the gap between his legs. Instead he climbs onto the couch behind Yoongi, socked feet flat against the cushion, and takes the position himself— plopping down, squeezing his lean frame between Yoongi’s back and the couch, settled snugly against Yoongi’s body-warmth. 

“Okay like this?” He asks, and Yoongi hums in approval, doesn't even feel a point of contact other than where they’re both sitting on the couch cushion, but Yoongi isn't going to think too much about where he’s pressed against his ass or he’ll flee out of this dorm in a millisecond, embarrassment mortifying him.

With the atestment that Yoongi is indeed comfortable, Jungkook leans further into him. Gentle-gentle where he presses his chest forward against Yoongi’s back, wholly wrapping around his smaller frame. He tucks his head into Yoongi’s neck, nuzzles softly into his hoodie, and wraps his hands around Yoongi’s waist in an embrace. Unlike the previous times when Jungkook had kept himself in control of their position the entire time until they inevitably fell asleep, now Jungkook allows himself to drape some of his weight onto Yoongi, resulting in his body pressing closer, pulling Yoongi slightly inwards but keeping him steady with a firm grip on his waist. 

He then reaches them both forward until his hands reach the mugs on the table, almost folding Yoongi over before returning to the previous position, one hand holding his hot chocolate while Yoongi holds his tea. 

Yoongi feels him sip the warm mug, feels its warmth radiating onto his shoulder and appreciates the comforting temperature. “What about your blanket, hm?” He finds himself asking, a little cold, a chance that Jungkook’s AC isn’t on. 

“You want it?” Jungkook asks, and before Yoongi replies he’s already reaching for it. Jungkook gives Yoongi his mug for a moment and pulls at the wool until it drapes over his one shoulders, biceps flexing as he moves, and Yoongi only gets to briefly wonder how much it weights before it falls on top of the two of them, Jungkook carrying most of it, but the heaviness felt on Yoongi all the same. Jungkook brings some of it forwards and covers Yoongi’s lap with it, bringing it up to his stomach with as much blanket as he can, and then he settles right back against Yoongi, reclaiming his mug with a content sigh. 

“That's— heavy,” Yoongi lets out, a little shocked. 

Jungkook hums in agreement, snuggling into it. “It’s nice when you’re alone, but this is also very comforting. It’s really thick, good for winter-times.”

“You cuddle with it?” Yoongi asks through a long sip of his tea.

“When I'm lonely,” Jungkook smiles abashedly, stuffing his nose into Yoongi’s shoulder again. “First time with another person who’s not Jiminie-hyung.”

Yoongi feels warmth inside, spreading in vibrating waves from his stomach outwards. It feels nice. Feels special. Like he means something to him, even in the short time that has passed. The knowledge that Jungkook is experiencing a first with him as well, and not just the other way around, spreads warmth in Yoongi's stomach, makes him feel like he swallowed the sun and now it beams through his skin. “Do you like it?”

“I do. Do you?” Jungkook asks, and there's concern in his voice, sweet and gentle and considerate in its own manner that is so uniquely Jungkook .

Yoongi only starts to wonder how he feels about the blanket when prompted, mind preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook and their conversation. Once more, he doesn’t think much before speaking out, uncharacteristic light-heartedness showcasing itself around Jungkook and not for the first time. “It’s a little heavy, I'm sorry,” he blushes at his own words. “It’s not that— um, it’s nice but— uh, I think I’d rather just, um. Lean back?”

“Of course, I'm sorry, I'll back off a little,” Jungkook hurries to say, pushing his chest off Yoongi and leaning all the way against the couch. He keeps his arms at Yoongi’s waist, steady as the blanket falls off of Yoongi and pools at his lap. For some unknown reason, Yoongi both adores the firm hold an unfathomable amount and wants to shimmy away from it, overwhelmed by being poised in place by Jungkook’s gentle-stable hands. “Better? It looks a little cold. You can lean back.”

And so slowly, reluctantly, Yoongi leans back until he feels a sturdy chest against his back. Jungkook makes sure Yoongi is covered with the blanket all the way to his chest, one-handedly pulling it around Yoongi’s sides before allowing his hand to rest at his waist again. Now Yoongi’s weight is draped over Jungkook’s and the blanket’s weight isn't too overwhelming. “This is nice, thanks.” 

They sip their drinks, warmth spreading in their stomachs as they rest against one another, and it’s quiet for a while, uncharacteristically so for the two of them, but still comfortable, still nice, doesn't remind Yoongi of his own awkward silences with other people he’s known that short of a while at all. Jungkook must have a Masters in making Yoongi comfortable by now, a degree in dismantling his defenses with nonchalant ease.

“You know, my body hurts, hyungie. It was arm and back day at the gym today.” Jungkook whines at some point, out of the blue. His voice is a little controlled, eyes staring at the ceiling in thought. “I overdid it and now I'm in pain. I should have left after an hour, but— I don't know. I feel a little useless, these days. Like I'm unraveling at the seams ‘cause I'm not doing anything of value.” 

“I know how you feel, Jungkook-ah. I'm going crazy just staring at the walls or losing brain-cells scrolling on my phone— but don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? We can rest, we’re allowed to rest. We don't need to make up for anything. We’ve worked hard, and now we’re resting, regaining strength, and in a few days we’ll work hard again.” Yoongi replies, had told himself the exact same thing not long ago, had had to convince himself it’s true, that he isn’t just lazy and unmotivated, that he too, deserves to sometimes do nothing at all.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods gently against Yoongi’s shoulder, brows furrowed, arms tightening at his waist like a stabling force. “Yeah. I won't do it again, hyung. I'll text you when I start and when I finish and if I'm there for over an hour and a half— call me and scold me, okay? It’ll fill up a couple minutes of boredom for you.”

“Sure, okay,” Yoongi smiles against his mug of tea, likes the way Jungkook willingly ties him into his life, involves him in the periods of free time Yoongi has nothing to do with. “Asking to be scolded… It’s so obvious you’re the youngest son, really.”

“Ah, don’t tease, hyungie,” Jungkook presses his cheek against Yoongi’s hair, the closest to a nuzzle he’s able to do in that position. “My hyung says I’m manlier than he is, anyway.”

“Is it the tattoo sleeve or the gym obsession that does it?” Yoongi teases, placing his empty mug on the table and repositioning against Jungkook’s chest, snuggling in, chest defined against his back even through the softness of Jungkook’s short sleeve— probably in preparation for the gigantic fuzzy blanket.

He stares at the arm wrapped around his waist, thick with muscles and firm in its hold, no longer hesitant or doubt-filled with the result of Yoongi’s own unconscious uncertainty, and that’s the moment Yoongi realizes. Jungkook who’s been mirroring Yoongi’s plethora of emotions since the moment they met, is calm and centered, firm and confident, where he holds him. It brings light to a simple fact Yoongi had let tumble unnoticed in his mind for the while he’s been seated in the safety of the younger man’s grasp. Jungkook isn't hesitant, because Yoongi no longer is. 

The realization prompts a wave of courage in Yoongi, followed by a wave of affection. He shyly pulls Jungkook’s left hand from his waist and starts tracing the letter-shaped knuckle tattoos, the snake on the back of his palm, following the lines and patterns all along his wrist and arm to a bulging bicep. The skin is smooth, soft, inviting, persuading Yoongi into keeping up the touch, into falling into it in the first place, the breathy exhale Jungkook lets in reaction— encouraging, gently goading. Yoongi doesn’t know what he expected when he leaned to touch but it wasn’t this. 

“That feels really nice,” Jungkook breathes out, voice airy and soft, puffed out breaths felt against Yoongi’s neck. “Your hands are soft, and you smell like vanilla again. Is it the lotion? Were you nervous again?”

“I wasn’t nervous, I’m not nervous around you anymore.” Yoongi says, shaking his head, and realizes he means it. “I was bored, took a long shower and everything. I even did a sheet mask,” Yoongi chuckles, Jungkook joining in, smile growing in size at the affirming words tumbling out of Yoongi’s mouth so naturally, so honestly. Like he, too, has nothing to hide in the face of the other man. As if vulnerability and transparency are his applauded virtues. 

“You should have done one with me, hyung, not fair. Next time is reserved for me, okay?” Jungkook pouts, puffing air out to ruffle wispy hair strands from under his mouth. Yoongi simply agrees wordlessly and keeps tracing the colors and shapes on Jungkook’s arm, appreciating the pillow-soft skin under his fingertips. Couldn't say no to that pout even if he wanted to. Couldn't not return the easy-going nonchalance dripping out of Jungkook’s body in heat-waves onto Yoongi’s absorbing skin. 

The comfort is interrupted by a few knocks on the door. Jungkook’s pout only deepens into a displeased whine. He pulls himself from behind Yoongi, gently removing his hands off Yoongi's touch-warmed waist, and when his feet hit the floor he grabs the blanket pooling at Yoongi’s hips, and starts wrapping Yoongi up in it. Yoongi feels the heavy weight draping over his shoulders and looks up at Jungkook in question. The younger is focused and determined, and he doesn't even hurry at another set of knocks on the door, only leaving when Yoongi’s frame is wrapped from head to toe in the blanket, meticulously surrounded, centered on his shoulders and lap. Yoongi has to admit, as Jungkook heads towards the door, that this really does imitate the feeling of Jungkook’s embrace really well. It lacks the steady heartbeat, the sturdy chest, the warm abdomen and chilly fingertips, but it embraces him just the same. The thought of Jungkook covering himself with it in his bed when he’s lonely— Yoongi’s heart clenches in his chest. He hopes— although not entirely lacking guilt about the self-centered nature of this— in the complete privacy of his mind, that Jungkook won’t ever need this blanket again. Not when he has Yoongi. 

“Wah, Kook-ah, what took you so long, huh?” Yoongi watches, deer-eyed, as man walks in, young and handsome and boisterous and fluffy haired, like a puppy after a walk on a windy November evening. He’s a domesticated hurricane as he struts inside, easy in his steps as if he pays half the rent, shoes kicked by the door and Jungkook’s slippers pile being promptly raided. He walks into the dorm as he talks. “I wanted to report to you before Jimin-ah does, because I’m a fantastic friend, but me and him are best friends now, we’re soulmates, actually. Sorry to be the bearer of such news.” 

“Um, what?” Jungkook manages as a reply, conflict and confusion mingled together in his expression. “You met Jimin-hyung? I haven't seen him in three weeks.”

“I just saw him in the library, recognized him from your Instagram, so of course I went up to meet my best friend’s best friend. But now I stole him, sorry Kook-ah. We were meant to meet, you see. Could you believe we both have Venus in our eleventh house in transit right now? Incredible.” The man finally turns around, and when his eyes fall on Yoongi’s red-flushed blanket-burritoed form, he stops in his tracks, lips slightly agape in baffled surprise. “Is this—?” He looks back at Jungkook.

“Um. Hi. I’m Min Yoongi, I’m Jungkook’s friend,” Yoongi supplies, then immediately mentally curses at himself for using the vague word friend . He isn't sure Jungkook even sees him as one, but, ah, it's much less awkward than saying he’s his cuddle-buddy, right? Apparently so, because at Yoongi’s words the man’s expression opens up almost comically, and in seconds he’s sitting right on top of the table in front of Yoongi.

“Yoongi-ssi! Of course! Can I call you hyung? I didn't know you’d be here! Wrapped in Jungkookie’s blanket no less!” Another pointed yet excited stare sent Jungkook’s way. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jungkookie can't stop gushing about you. He dragged me to two different stores searching for this specific honey and yogurt body wash—”

Yoongi blushes full-bodily almost instantly and pushes his face to hide it from view into the thick blanket folds. Jungkook yelps, “Tae-hyung!” He looks over at Yoongi for what looks like damage control. “I really liked the scent, I'm sorry, hyung.”

So much for damage control, but Yoongi couldn't imagine Jungkook being embarrassed about something so trivial, especially if it’s about Yoongi himself. He carries himself in a way that tells you he cares in truckloads, but only about what really matters. “It’s— okay? I don't think I mind?”

Distantly, Yoongi recalls Jungkook describing Taehyung as his first cuddle-buddy and his close friend, and finally gets to match a face to the name. He attempts to recall wether Taehyung should be aware of Yoongi and Jungkook’s odd sort of friendship, and wonders solemnly if he, too, shares that sort of intimacy with the younger man. He shouldn't feel his gut doubling its weight at the prospect of Jungkook sharing this bond that they have curated over the last few days with other people, too. It’s silly, it’s selfish. It’s uncalled for. It’s still there, though.

“Okay but can we talk about the fact you got this stressed out, Virgo stellium, eighth houser mess to finally sleep? Are you a witch? No, are you a water sign?” Taehyung, Yoongi learns, doesn't explain what he means. Yoongi sends Jungkook a confused glance that Jungkook returns with an amused, slightly perplexed smile. 

“Uh, you mean my zodiac sign?” Yoongi asks back, a bit intimidated by looking at the man’s face. It's like staring straight at a comic character come to life, the fancy ones with the polished color-jobs and the handsome leads. Yoongi thinks, with all the shock it induces, that this man’s face could give Seokjin a respectable run for his money. 

“Yeah! I'm getting water sign vibes. Jungkookie says you’re very soft and comforting, he says he likes cuddling you better than me and that’s atrocious because I was born for comfort-cuddles.” Taehyung stares at Yoongi like he's a puzzle piece he has to figure out and Yoongi is very very very much underprepared for the feeling of being seized up, albeit in a friendly, puppy-curious manner, while he’s all wrapped up and cuddled to easy-mindedness. He does have to admit; the confession that Jungkook had personally told Taehyung he prefers Yoongi’s cuddles, that’s a piece of information Yoongi wishes he could focus on for at least ten more minutes to let it fully digest into the unsettled pit of his stomach. It makes him giddy and a little bit proud, and then a little bit confused as to why. 

“I'm uh, a Pisces. That's a water one, right?” Yoongi replies sheepishly, and Jungkook simply shakes his head at the other man’s embarrassment with a fond smile. Looks as if he’s familiar with the experience of being analyzed to bits by Taehyung’s unexplainable mind.

“Kook-ah! He’s a water sign! Oh, this is perfect, this is just perfect. Yoongi-hyung, can I have your birthdate? I promise I won't dig in too much!” And there, there— Yoongi should have expected the unavoidable possession of a puppy-eyed stare, eyes melting into Yoongi with the smoothness of butter, pleading so innocently—

“Tae-hyungie, let him breathe, okay? You look like you’re about to labtest him.” Jungkook complains with a toothy grin, slapping Taehyung’s arm lightly before settling against the opposite wall, watching the other two.

“How can I not,” Taehyung gets up from Yoongi’s space, walking towards Jungkook with a Cheshire grin and pushing at his chest. “When you haven't stopped talking about him since you met?”

Yoongi fidgets under the blanket. He doesn't really know how to react— is he that interesting? Is he busying Jungkook’s mind to that extent? The prospect of that alone gets him worryingly hot-faced and red-painted.

“Tae-hyung, don't freak him out,” Jungkook whisper-yells, but still wears an amused little devilish smile, and Yoongi is so out of the loop he’s starting to think the conversation isn't meant for his ears, looks elsewhere to give a semblance of privacy even if he is the one being discussed. “Yoongi-hyung’s a good friend, give him some space, okay?”

Ah, friend. Good friend. Yoongi likes that Jungkook and him are on the same page, as they’ve surprisingly been since the beginning. Or— is Jungkook simply mirroring his words back, albeit more eager than he originally was, to once again make sure he doesn't cross any of Yoongi’s boundaries?

“Yeah, sorry, Yoongi-hyung. I didn't think I’d meet you so soon, I got excited. Can I still get your birth date though?” Taehyung smiles sheepishly, apologetic and overflowing with child-like curiosity and— yeah, Yoongi can see crystal clear why these two are friends, can imagine the unstoppable way in which they feed off each other’s energy until an otherworldly union is birthed.

“Don't worry, hyung, the first time we met he interpreted my entire birth chart for me. Rumor in the stars has it I’m notoriously hard-working to compensate for the lack of control I have over how I'm perceived.” Jungkook chuckles, eyes sparkling at the small walk down memory lane, at remembering the bittersweet moment of being both called out and seen , at the same time.

“He started crying,” Taehyung intejects with a proud smile, boxy and bright.

“It was accurate,” Jungkook shrugs. “But Yoongi-hyung didn't come here to get analyzed by a self-proclaimed astrologer, so if he chooses to give you the details you don't get to talk about them unless he’s comfortable.”

“I might not be in the mood for self-reflection today, sorry. I was born on March ninth, though. Two years Jungkook’s senior.” Yoongi smiles softly at Taehyung, seeing the way he tones down in reaction to Jungkook’s reasonable request but doesn't lose the excitable spark in his eyes, lighting up at the provided information like he’s been given candy.

“Thank you hyung,” he giggles, tapping away on his phone without waiting a second. 

“We skipped the introductions, but this is Kim Taehyung, original cuddle-buddy slash friend slash hyung-who-doesn't-act-like-one.” Jungkook sits down next to Yoongi on the couch, leaning into him to half-cuddle into his blanket-wrapped side. “He’s studying to be a nurse, and side-hustles at force-feeding me astrology facts.”

“I'm educating your stubborn brain like a hyung should. And— wait, oh my god, Yoongi-hyung has a Virgo moon! That's why you get along so well!” Taehyung almost squeals, jumping to show the two his phone screen, the strange symbols on it unfamiliar to the both of them. 

Jungkook shakes his head with a fond smile. He nudges Yoongi’s shoulder with his own. “You see, there’s an explanation.”

Taehyung perks up suddenly, breaking the sticky-sweetness of the gaze shared between the other two. “Oh, wait, Jungkook-ah, I was telling you about Jimin-ah. Anyway, apparently we’re friends now. He also said he saw some people looking at your fliers earlier. Is Kook-ah gonna be busy when the semester starts?” Taehyung teases. 

“Busier than now, for sure.” He chuckles. “Oh. Thinking about it now, you said your friends saw my flier too, right? That one of them knows me?” Jungkook turns to Yoongi, eyes wide and curious, head cocked to the side. 

“My friends Hoseok-ah and Seokjin-hyung, they sent me the flier but Hoseok-ah’s friend Namjoon-ssi, he said he knows you and that you’re a great guy.” Yoongi explains, recalls the first conversation on their groupchat and the way Hoseok had glorified Jungkook as Namjoon’s words described him. Today Yoongi can comfortably attest, Jungkook is just as wonderful as he’s been described prior to their first meeting, if not much more.

“Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes fly wide open. He leans his head on yoongi’s shoulder and looks up at him with big, distracting doe eyes. “Your friend knows Namjoon-hyung? Wah. We’re really close. I saw him two weeks ago in our latest shared exam. How do your friends know him?”

“No idea,” Yoongi admits with furrowed brows. “If he shares classes with you I doubt they study together. Seokjin-hyung is a business major and Hoseok-ah studies sociology.”

“Your friend is a business major? He studies with Jiminie-hyung then!” Jungkook calls out, awed, back straightening to look at the other man eye-level. Suddenly alert at the odd number of coincidences being spotted.

“What you’re telling me is, that your friends all somehow might know each other?” Taehyung raises his brows in surprise, pointing at the two in turns.

“Apparently! Woah, what are the odds?” Jungkook exhales in shock, Taehyung nodding along with him. Yoongi is still preoccupied with the realization that Seokjin and Jungkook’s best friend Jimin might know each other. It feels like two separate worlds colliding, he's suddenly unsure how he should react.

“We should all meet, then.” Taehyung says. “I should make a groupchat. Give me their contacts.”

“Wait, seriously?” Yoongi’s hit with surprise, brain having a hard time catching up with Taehyung’s pace. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, why not? They have to be cool if they’re your friends, Yoongi-hyung.” Taehyung replies cooly, not in the slightest bit nervous about meeting three complete strangers in the company of Jungkook and two other guys he’s known for barely an hour.

“Are you okay with that?” Jungkook asks, meeting Yoongi’s eyes from where he’s leaning against his side, laying his head on Yoongi’s blanket-padded shoulder. Yoongi can feel his warm breath puffing against the wool, it sucks the warmth inside and the tiny bristles of it tickle Yoongi’s chin. 

“I guess—? I just never expected this to happen,” he chuckles out, still caught off guard. “Send me Taehyung’s number, I'll send him the contacts.”

And just like that, Kim Taehyung takes control of the situation.

Yoongi and Jungkook share looks of giddy disbelief as they lean into each other on the couch, the blanket forming into Yoongi’s second skin by now, as Taehyung furiously taps on his phone.

kim taehyung added you to a new group-chat: epic crossover.

kim taehyung: hello wonderful people

I am the genius curator of this group chat

and I come bearing news

I’m jungkookie’s friend. jungkookie is friends with jimin-ah and is friends with namjoon-ssi 

jimin-ah studies with seokjin-ssi and is my soulmate

hoseok-ssi is friends with namjoon-ssi seokjin-ssi and yoongi-hyung

seokjin-ssi is friends with yoongi-hyung and hoseok-ssi

yoongi-hyung is friends with jungkookie and as for the last hour: also with me. 

CONCLUSION! 

we’re all indirect friends and so we are now going to become direct friends and so we’re meeting up before the semester starts to ~explore this new development

we’re meeting at yoongi-hyung’s dorm on the evening before the semester starts, 7pm sharp we order sweet and sour chicken 

if you’re late you owe me two drumsticks

that’s all please mark your calendars

jinnie: that’s…. Something. I was gonna ask ‘do I know u’ but u just explained that part

Jung Hoseok~: Man I’m really craving chicken how did u know

Park Jimin: I actually am free from exams by then

 KimNamJun: I can make it, yeah

jeon jungkookie!!: me and yoongi-hyung will be there of course! (taetae hyung is literally in front of us)

KimNamJun: I didn’t know you two were friends? Nice to meet you all by the way

jeon jungkookie!!: Yeah we’re friends!! Hyung is the best!

jinnie: of course our yoongichi was raised by me, naturally he’d reflect me

min yoongi: You’re literally three months older than me

kim taehyung: I love myself some bickering

pass me the popcorn

jeon jungkookie!!: oof look who’s talking

yoongi-hyung can confirm you’re deranged

you're uninvited

kim taehyung: no YOU'RE uninvited to my ultra cool mega genius direct friends meetup 

AND YOU DON'T GET ANY CUDDLES UNTIL YOU APOLOGIZE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

min yoongi: For reference, they’re giggling irl

jeon jungkookie!!: suck it, tae hyungie, you’re not the only person I cuddle with anymore!!!!!

you’ve got competition and he’s winning by far ngl ;)

kim taehyung: gay

jinnie: gay

Park Jimin: sus AND gay

KimNamJun: it does sound a bit gay

Jung Hoseok~: gay indeed

jeon Jungkook!!: suck my DICK indirect friends and jimin-hyung and namjoon hyung and tae-hyungie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

min yoongi: You made him curse

Help he’s pouting

jeon jungkookie!!: yoongi-hyung you're not allowed to tease me or i'll take my blanket!!!!!!!!

min yoongi: I take everything back sir, he’s not pouting at all everyone, in fact he is staring mysteriously out the window with wind sweeping in his hair

kim taehyung: nerds

Eventually Taehyung leaves with a wink, a wave of farewell, and a promise of meeting in three days. At the returned calm silence of one hell of an energetic force now gone, the absurdity of the situation downs on Yoongi, and he lets out a breathy laugh at the brisk energy-change the moment Taehyung takes his leave. Jungkook seems to recognize it, to recognize their returned privacy, and he only allows himself further access to Yoongi’s comforting presence in the newly realized quiet of the dorm. 

He makes quick work of unwrapping Yoongi from underneath the blanket pile and he’s wearing his bunny grin all the while. It’s a bit smaller in size, a little private, a little shy even in its unignorable presence in Yoongi’s sight. When Yoongi’s unwrapped and staring at him all giddy-puzzled, Jungkook laughs and almost tackles him in a hug, falling over so they’re resting on the couch, Jungkook’s firm arms wrapped around his waist and climbing up so his palms could rest against Yoongi’s shoulder-blades. Yoongi lifts his arms to shyly, slowly wrap around Jungkook’s neck, the younger pulled against his shoulder, their chests pressed together and soft giggles echoing in the quiet of the dorm.

And Yoongi was wrong, before. The energy hasn't changed— rather, it shifted; Taehyung’s bursting-at-the-seams fire-cracker adrenaline-shot of a presence flowed oh so naturally into an ever-warm ever-crackling bonfire in the pits of Jungkook’s chest, and he’s warm, he’s warm and alive and his heart is beating wildly, and the energy is bottled up inside the most contagious vessel that is Jungkook’s chest. Yoongi feels like he’s been touched by lightning, simply pressed with his chest against the other man’s unrestrained core. Like their skin and bones and tissue are transferring some kind of message, exchanging some whispered words in a language foreign to them, but tangible in the tone shifts and their heartbeats. Yoongi’s almost overwhelmed, almost overheated. He’s glad the blanket is off his shoulders, the weight of compressed wool would have surely made him dizzy. 

“Why are you laughing?” Yoongi asks between his own breathy giggles. 

“The absurdity. He just came in, decided we’re all friends, made it happen, and then left. Man, I really love him.” Jungkook’s grin is pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, chuckles vibrating from his chest over to Yoongi’s. “I tried to meet up with Jimin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung but we couldn't find the time, and he just walks in, declares what he’s decided, and it all works out?” Jungkook exhales in disbelief. 

“Yeah, I'm also surprised. I haven't seen Hoseok-ah and Seokjin-hyung in ages. I don't know why I never thought of suggesting the day before the semester starts. Maybe I thought they’d wanna rest.” Yoongi admits, recalls the various times he had tried to set up a meeting for the three of them, and was given back ‘sorry’s and apologetic complaints of busy schedules. He understands, he does. Or maybe he doesn't. 

“Seeing you is resting, hyung,” Jungkook insists. “I've been on edge all day and just being with you gets my nervous system under control. What are you hiding, huh, Pisces man? Should I tell Taehyungie to dig up the dirt?” Jungkook teases, grinning so wide Yoongi’s breathless.

“You know all the dirt already,” Yoongi chuckles, lightly swatting at the back of his head. “I doubt the stars can tell it like I can.”

“You’re something else, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook hugs him tighter, breathes him in, vanilla and honey and yogurt and all sorts of fondness in his senses as he holds him close, chest to chest. “Something special.”

“Yeah?” Is all Yoongi can muster as a reply, gummy smile out and eyes crinkling in their soft affections.

“Yeah.” Jungkook says. 

They don't fall asleep that day, Jungkook keeping his promise with steel-made willpower. They also don't nap, though. They stay in each other’s embrace, all alight with giggles and adrenaline until late into the night, and Yoongi untangles his limbs from Jungkook’s, doesn't need to look at his pout to promise he’ll come back tomorrow night, and maybe even sleep in Jungkook’s bed to test the theory that brought them here in the first place, that they’ve completely forgotten all about. 

And so they spend the following night tangled in one another in Jungkook's bed. Yoongi wakes up in the middle of the night laying on top of the younger’s chest, takes a moment to feel his abdomen slowly and steadily rise with the younger’s inhales and exhales. A short pause to absorb and appreciate the proximity, the touch, the vibrating warmth reverberating through his body. In the morning he’s curled the other way with Jungkook’s body lining his, arms wrapped around him, head resting against a broad chest. 

Yoongi learns that Jungkook’s a very light sleeper, that he wakes up many times in the middle of the night, and so every time Yoongi’s eyes half-open with bleary-eyed consciousness, he’s got a different kind of secure hold on him, pulled into utmost comfort to lull the younger back to sleep. It’s definitely not Yoongi’s dorm that comforts Jungkook into unconsciousness.

The next day Yoongi calls Jungkook for the first time, and it’s to kick him out of the gym. They planned to meet in the evening but Jungkook ends up spending his afternoon at Yoongi’s, sous-cheffing him— but more specifically skipping songs on their blended playlist when Yoongi’s hands are wet, or folding back his sweater sleeves so it stays dry and doesn't freeze him in the winter cold. Jungkook beats Yoongi at Mario Kart at least seven more times that afternoon, with Yoongi’s legs folded into his lap and held close by a sweater pawed, tattooed hand.

In those three days Yoongi forgets what it's like to be alone. It's enough to shoot off a text message saying he’s bored and Jungkook shows up at his door with a smile and whatever he’s been doing at that moment— laundry-folding one time, popcorn for a movie on Netflix another time. Or sometimes he’d be half-conscious, wordlessly dragging Yoongi by his hoodie sleeve to the bed, and they fall asleep and wake up and fall back asleep again. Jungkook’s hands become an extension to Yoongi’s body, always a point of contact, always glued in grounding squeezes feathery caresses and firm holds. 

Yoongi forgets what it feels like to wish someone was there. Having a warm body pressed against him becomes the default setting in the rewiring of his brain, to be expected, received, and returned with vigor. Jungkook is smooth, rough, sharp, round, he’s sweet like cotton candy when he preens at Yoongi’s hands on him like he’s receiving some sort of validation in the form of the gift of Yoongi’s inexperienced hands on his skin. 

Forgets what it's like to filter his thoughts before they’re out of his mouth, forgets what it’s like to worry he’s saying the wrong thing. What it’s like to wonder if you’re being listened to. 

That’s why when the day before the semester starts arrives, Yoongi and Jungkook are naturally sprawled on Yoongi’s bed, Yoongi with his back on the mattress facing the empty white ceiling, stuck in his thoughts, and Jungkook with his head in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, Yoongi’s fingernails drawing trails along his hoodie-clad back. In that position Yoongi’s thoughts travel to places he hasn't allowed himself to even stumble towards. Places he feels guilty that even exist within his brain. 

“Can I admit something selfish?” Yoongi bites his bottom lip, but doesn't feel nervous for the few seconds before Jungkook replies, knows the other man well enough by now, breathes his air more than he breathes his own by now. Jungkook won't judge him. “I’ve never said it before, ever.”

“Yes, please.” Jungkook replies against Yoongi’s neck, grabbing the hem of Yoongi’s sweater in his fist to signal his attention.

“I want to see Jin-hyung and Seokkie and I'm happy I get to see them today but also— also, I’m upset. I know they are busy and I know what exam season is like and I know what tight schedules are like. But I've tried many many times to arrange a time to meet, even at my own study-time expense, and they were never available more than once in two, three weeks. I was always the one to suggest meeting— and even then they’d bring their partners along, and, I just miss them? Why does it feel like they don’t miss me? I'm— angry. We've never been separated like this and I feel like I'm losing them, and they aren't losing me. I’m here, waiting, being the easy-going friend that I am, but fuck— I’m losing them .” 

Jungkook lifts his head up from the crook of Yoongi’s neck, hair a fluffy mess and face flushed from being caged into Yoongi’s body-heat. He licks his lips before he starts, “if you’re angry, then something is wrong. You need them to be aware, hyung. You need to tell them you’re feeling neglected, that their friendship is very important to you. Not meeting during exam season, that I can understand, but during the semester… Even just sitting together in the library doing different coursework, grabbing lunch once a week, ranting to each other for a bit— it makes a difference, but you have to say it. I know you don't like to say difficult things, but hyung, you've been keeping it in. I want you to be happy, so I think you need to be a little brave, hyung. Aren’t you fed-up with being stuck in this in-between? You’ve been running and it’s getting exhausting. Slow down your pace and count your losses. The intersection’s coming up.”

Yoongi frowns at the ceiling, a pout overtaking his lips. He whispers the first thoughts that follow Jungkook’s encouragement, chest tightened with nerves. “What if they get mad at me and ditch me for their other friends?”

“Didn't you say you've been friends since childhood? Surely you’ve had arguments before. It’ll go just like them. If it doesn't, if it gets messy, I'm here for a three hour long hug, if that’s what you need. I'll be here, okay?” Jungkook looks into Yoongi’s eyes with that self-assuredness of his that Yoongi can’t argue with, that makes his brain remain empty but for affirmations and thanks. It’s that specific type of confidence Jungkook parades so naturally, so effortlessly, as if it was in-born— telling him there's nothing that could get Jungkook to leave the other man’s side.

“I guess I'm overthinking again. I'm just afraid. It’s— scary, to take something you cherish and be the one to force it to change.” Yoongi sighs, moving to tangle his hands in Jungkook’s long hair strands, messy all around his face, looks for a distraction as a replacement outlet to his unordered thoughts. 

“It is. But most times, I find that it’s worth it. Beautiful things can be born when you allow them to change, and what you don’t change, hyung, you choose.”

The way these words hit him makes Yoongi’s pout deepen. He knows. Yeah, he knows. But hearing it feels like a ground-breaking, well-deserved wake-up call. He's been actively choosing to stay in the midst of an emotionally burdensome in-between situation by not initiating a conversation. Fuck, how easy is it to send a text message asking to meet up alone to talk? Just a second of courage is enough to execute that simple action and Yoongi would have been out of this hell months ago. He really has been choosing this all this time, by passively allowing fear to dictate his actions, and now that he has the loveliest, most protective safety-net in the shape of Jeon Jungkook in case things go south; maybe he can be a little less afraid. 

Yoongi hums, whispering into the other’s hair, face scrunched in a full-body shiver caused by this one sole realization, one that brings light, that perfectly encapsulates where Yoongi’s mistakes lay and how easy it is, how effortless, to catch them and get them in order. “Have I ever told you how smart you are?”

Jungkook laughs out loud, heady and breathless, eyes squinting with the force of his beaming bunny teeth, head pushing back to fall into Yoongi’s shoulder, “now you have.”

They laugh softly, not because anything is particularly funny, just because the air is in their lungs and the core of Jungkook's chest is contagious and joyful and is pressed into Yoongi so often it feels like a part of him, too. When their laughs die down, Jungkook doesn't take too long to fall asleep again. He snuggles into Yoongi's body, presses close into his chest, wraps two toned arms under his waist in an embrace.

Yoongi lays there, and he thinks about things he shouldn't allow himself to. He thinks about Jungkook, thinks about what tomorrow will make of their friendship, while he hears the low hum of the man’s breathing against his skin. He thinks about whether Jungkook could show up for him in the way he describes, or if he’ll crumble under the pressure-load of school, too. He wants to believe. Wants to believe Jungkook is capable of anything he sets his mind to. Remembers, when his chest settles from anxiety, that Jungkook is honest to a fault, that if he says something— he must really mean it. If he tells Yoongi he deserves the care and attention he craves, if he tells him about all the small, meaningful ways in which his friends could and should meet him halfway, if he tells him he might not be able to sleep alone again after meeting Yoongi— then he thinks, he thinks he has to mean it. And there’s trust, mixed into that sparkle of hope and the gut-feeling which backs it up. There's trust inside of Yoongi, trust in the way Jungkook has treated him from their very first encounter, down to the present, down to where they are right now. 

It’s easy to get lost in these types of thoughts, Yoongi has always claimed the title of an overthinker. What is significantly easier, is to steer his thoughts in a vastly different direction when Jungkook moves against him suddenly, just a small shift in his sleep, and Yoongi feels lips touch the base of his neck. 

Soft. That's the first word Yoongi's blanked out mind supplies him with. Soft, and plush, almost barely touching, and— Jungkook, Jungkook is still asleep. Jungkook isn't aware— might become aware soon, if Yoongi’s heart won't stop accelerating in its beating when it’s so dangerously close to Jungkook’s own steady-rhythmed chest. Yoongi’s mind shouldn't go there, shouldn't teeter into that uncharted territory— because Jungkook is most certainly asleep, unarguably unconscious and not at all intentional in his small push into Yoongi’s neck. 

But, well. Yoongi had never wondered before what a pair of lips would feel like on his neck. What— Jungkook’s lips would feel like on his neck. It’s never been on his mind before, has never proved itself relevant to the trajectory of his life; he’s thought about being kissed, having someone’s lips against his own, moving slowly, sure— but never someone he’s close to. Never someone he could, hypothetically, actually see those fantasies unfolding with. But now, now he feels forced into the thoughts, coerced into the imaginary of Jungkook pressed into his neck by semantics alone, lips dancing along his skin as gentle as his fingers are, but plumper, softer, velvety petals placed with intent— it’s just that, that’s simply not what’s happening right now. Yoongi knows, is aware, that Jungkook is in fact, not kissing his neck right now. And yet, and yet why is that the direction his mind forces him into?

Yoongi has never been kissed on his neck. He isn't clueless, though. He knows those types of kisses tend to follow a kiss on the lips— another type he’s never, ever thought of in relation to Jungkook before— and now that the thought takes root, his brain supplies the natural addition of the previous thoughts and— then it doesn't stop.

Why exactly is he picturing Jungkook kissing him? While the man lays on his chest, no less? Is it because his lips are still placed gently against his skin, sensitive to the warmth? Is it the different feel they have compared to the roughness of Jungkook’s fingers and knuckles that find Yoongi’s neck more often than not?

Yoongi’s face is red in a mix of embarrassment and shame, freezes his hand in Jungkook’s hair when he’s hit by a nauseating mixture of guilt and regret. He shouldn't be having these unwelcome thoughts, especially prompted by the most chaste, unknowing, accidental brush of skin. He shouldn't , and yet.

He's never been too good at controlling the thoughts in his head, and his heart reacts too easily to embarrassment. It beats so loudly in his chest Yoongi thinks it might be close to bursting open.

“Mm’hyung, wha’s wron’?” he hears a mumble against his skin, jumps in place at the lip movements felt so distinctly against his neck, brushing and pulling with the poorly-uttered syllables. Jungkook doesn't move, simply tightens his arms around Yoongi, an unconscious response to Yoongi's muscles contracting unknowingly in his distressful struggle against his own mind.

“It’s nothing, nothing really,” Yoongi rushes to reply, hot-faced with shame, finding himself trying to distance himself from Jungkook’s hold, to get his lips off of him, so he could stop thinking, hyper-focusing, on how goddamn soft they are. 

Jungkook is perceptive of Yoongi’s body-language even in a state of half-sleep. He retracts his hands off of Yoongi and pulls himself upright against an elbow. “Hyung, wha’s wrong?” He repeats.

Jungkook watches him with a frown and eyes squeezed almost entirely shut, still caught in the woozy embrace of sleep, but awake enough to worry about the smallest change in Yoongi’s body language. Yoongi pulls himself against the headboard, sitting with his knees folded, face so red his heart is nearly beating out of his temples.

“I'm sorry, I just— just need a moment,” Yoongi fumbles back, red and hot all over, needs a moment to calm himself down, to stop thinking these thoughts, to remind himself where he is and who he’s with and what their relationship is like.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” Jungkook blinks his puffy eyes at him, hand reaching to fix his crow-nest of hair, messy by Yoongi’s hands. 

“No, you— it was just, just a little— too close, for, for a moment. Sorry, Jungkook-ah, that I woke you.” Yoongi feels burnt all over, scorched by his own thoughts and his own uncontrollable imagination, by Jungkook’s worried watchful eyes, concerned even in their sleepy haze. The guilt is spreading inside of him like hot-lava. He can't possibly allow Jungkook to take any responsibility for Yoongi's own mind crossing an uncountable number of boundaries. “Your, uh, your lips were on my neck, there.”

Jungkook's expression morphs into a perfect mixture of surprise and regret, waking up at once, eyes widening. “I'm so sorry, hyung— I didn't know, it's not an excuse, but— I won’t— I’ll make sure I won't do it again.”

“Yeah, okay. I'm sorry.” Yoongi hides his flushed face in the crook of his arm. Hears Jungkook's words for their meaning but his mind tosses them around, makes him think about the movements Jungkook's lips are making, how they’d feel against his skin, how they felt there just a moment ago. “Just— give me a minute to— sorry.”

Yoongi stays in that position for a moment, soaking in his self-disappointment and confusion, worried sick he might be ruining things, might be ruining the gently curated friendship Jungkook and him have grown over the last week. Reminds himself in a self-soothing attempt that Jungkook isn't a mind reader, wouldn't know what twirls around in Yoongi’s mind if the information is not publicly disclosed; and maybe for once he’s glad to not share Jungkook’s unmatched honesty. When he thinks his heartbeat finally isn't on the verge of being life-risking, when his thoughts settle down and his guilt builds its home in his brain in their place, he slowly uncovers his face. Jungkook's cheeks are marked from Yoongi's hoodie pressing into them. His hair is still a mess, Yoongi's fingers had skillfully messed it up to no avail in their previous position. His pink-painted mouth is set into a displeased pout and his eyes are still twinkling with the barest concern. He's staring right at Yoongi, right into his eyes when he finally raises his gaze. 

“I'd never want to make you uncomfortable, hyung.” He whispers out, a small wrinkle between his brows. “I'm glad I woke up and I'm glad you told me. Always tell me, please.”

Yoongi finds himself matching his pout as he nods, looking away. If only Jungkook knew Yoongi's mind had traveled into inappropriate territory, if only Yoongi had the guts to admit it. Quite frankly— he doesn't even know what to make of it himself. He’s never been in this position before. What does it mean? What does it imply? Aren’t thoughts of kisses reserved to people interested in one another? Or is it the natural way to react to someone’s lips meeting your neck? He doesn’t know, doesn’t know a thing, the only thing he does know, is that Jungkook’s lips have a delicate smoothness to them he doesn't think he’ll be able to simply forget. He silently wonders, if in the reverse scenario in which Jungkook were the one to have these kinds of thoughts— with his unbelievable honesty, would he have bared his mind and told Yoongi?

“Sorry, I made things weird,” Yoongi turns his pout into a small, apologetic smile, not quite reaching his cheeks, fingers tangling in the hem of his hoodie. 

“No, sorry I made things weird,” Jungkook replies back with a sheepish smile, closed-mouthed but with his signature eye-crinkles to signal Yoongi everything between them is alright, is the same, even when he’s thinking about Jungkook’s lips on his, even when Jungkook doesn't know of it. As long as Jungkook remains honest and warm-hearted, everything is alright. "Isn’t it time to get the place ready?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. I think I might want to change clothes, too, before everyone arrives.” Yoongi licks his lips, nerves drying them out, taking the opportunity of a distraction without a blink of an eye.

“Oh?” Jungkook smiles that close-mouthed boyish smile of his Yoongi could stare at for hours, the one that plumps up his cheeks and narrows his eyes. “Will we be seeing each other out of our pajamas for the first time?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re right. I’ve never seen you out of sweatpants.”

“Now I have to pull on my nice jeans, then. More than two new people to impress.” Jungkook raises a brow teasingly. Yoongi can’t help the way his heart starts attempting to beat out of his chest at the other man’s words. 

Yoongi huffs out, exasperated, suddenly feeling the tingle of excitement running up his veins, energy returning like it never left, embarrassment thrown into the wind with the proof they’re okay presenting itself vividly in Jungkook’s familiar playfulness. “You don’t need to impress anyone, let alone me; I had your drool on my neck five minutes ago.”

“You didn’t tell me I drooled!” Jungkook gasps before bursting into laughter, open-mouthed and loud in his amusement, still lighthearted, still emitting the purest energy Yoongi has ever felt, like he hasn’t changed a bit from day one of their friendship, and Yoongi really, really does think this man is made from sunshine beams encapsulated, from warmth directly garnered from sunrays, from the kinetic energy of a thousand suns kept in all their wilderness inside one beating heart.

On his way out Jungkook whines and teases and laughs until the moment Yoongi closes the dorm’s door after him, still hearing him chuckle through the thickness of the walls separating the two of them.

And when he’s gone, Yoongi’s tiny studio apartment is inevitably quiet. There’s suddenly silence all around him, and Yoongi is once again reminded that while a force like Jungkook’s presence shines so brightly, the aftermath of its absence is that much more noticeable. 

Lucky him, Jungkook will be strutting right back to Yoongi in no time, in his nice jeans no less— and Yoongi will be too busy getting dressed and ready for company to even start to overthink anything that happened in the past thirty minutes. He won’t allow himself to think for even a single moment about pretty lips and feathery softness on the line of his neck.  

He has bigger things to worry about, like, for example, his decision to tell his friends how he’s been feeling, that he’s been promptly ignoring to focus on Jungkook. Maybe that’s why his brain is making up things to worry about— so he doesn’t have the time to be anxious about this . It’s not like it’s been the bane of his existence for the last year, it’s not like it could change the trajectory of his adult life, or something. 

He huffs out, and gets to work— distraction welcome and needed. He fixes up the apartment first. It’s too small to fit seven people, but they can make do. Jungkook will be bringing a couple of his decorative pillows they can sit on and with that in mind Yoongi pushes his sofa against the furthest wall facing the bed and brings the table closer to match. He throws his extra throw blankets on both the couch and the bed, planning on getting comfortable there either way. When he’s all done with arranging the furniture for maximum space capacity, it’s 6:40 pm, so he pulls on a pair of jeans and an oversized knitted sweater, gives a few brushes to his sleep-messy hair, and then he’s ready, and left to wait. Not for long, luckily, so he doesn't have to think, doesn’t have to worry about his thoughts circling back to pink pouty lips, either. 

A few minutes later Jungkook is knocking on the door, not leaving Yoongi on his own devices for long. He’s carrying three decorative pillows Yoongi recognizes from the load on his bed, and laughs as they’re carefully placed on the couch. “Did you see the group chat? Tae-hyungie dressed up as if he’s going to a museum date or something. Glad I got myself out of my sweats.” He chuckles with his bunny teeth on display.

Now that the pillows aren’t hiding him from view, Yoongi can see the outfit Jungkook picked— the proclaimed good jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt under a colorful oversized flannel. The jeans are so oversized they’re pooled at his feet, dragging around Yoongi’s floors once he takes off his shoes, and for some reason Yoongi finds that so incredibly endearing.

Once the other guys start to arrive, that’s when the atmosphere charges up. It only makes sense for it to be loud and lively when seven grown men are shoved into a small space and are fed two servings of sweet and spicy chicken each. The introductions last barely a few minutes, and then they’re running their mouths off like they’ve known each other for over an eternity, like it's natural to become friends in mere seconds. It might be natural to some people present— funnily enough, being people he knows— but Yoongi has never felt comfortable with people quite so quickly, needs his time, needs to warm up slowly but surely, and have the other party willingly waiting for when he’s ready to get out of his head. He’s pleased with sitting down pressed against Jungkook, listening to his extrovert friends run their mouths and let out bustling energy in ceaseless waves— all but Jungkook, who’s been a little toned down since everyone arrived. Maybe it’s Yoongi’s mellowness affecting his energy, or maybe Jungkook is actively making sure Yoongi isn't overwhelmed, specifically remembering Yoongi has mentioned in various instances that his social anxiety is almost unmanageable sometimes. Yoongi's stomach tightens in its center at the heartwarming implication and also at the way Jungkook’s fingers begin to toy with the soft hairs in the back of Yoongi’s neck, sending gentle shivers down his spine.

Maybe that’s the missing ingredient in the recipe for Yoongi's social life, maybe that's the secret antidote to the chokehold his social anxiety has him in— simply being given time, simply being treated with patience and understanding. Maybe he just needs his comfort people by his side to feel like he’s safe in a social setting, a steadying hand in his hair, someone who would read his lips if they couldn’t hear him too well, someone who would giggle at his jokes even if they aren't funny at all, who would create opportunities for him to insert himself into conversations when he’s ready for it. Someone— well, just like Jungkook.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you around before,” Jimin stares in awe from where he sits on the floor, looking up at Seokjin who’s comfortably sprawled on Yoongi's sofa. Jungkook’s curious gaze flies to him, fingers falling to the skin of Yoongi’s nape to caress at idly, ticklish. “Around the halls, in the library. What are the chances we meet like this?”

Seokjin waves in front of himself, “of course, it’s hard to forget my face, I’m aware.”

“Sometimes I wish I could forget your face,” Yoongi mumbles a low, teasing little laugh from his seat on the floor, his back against his bed, weight naturally gravitating towards Jungkook's side in comfort, rough knuckles caressing his neck as per usual protocol the moment the younger’s attention is back on him. Yoongi has to shake his head in defiance every time a thought about another pleasant feeling against his neck creeps up on him, every time he has to blink a few times in a momentary trance at the sight of Jungkook's pouty lips as he talks. Pink and alluring in their glossy plushness, magnetizing Yoongi’s gaze like a moth to a flame. When he snaps out of it, it’s only for an even worse feeling to make itself present in the pit of his stomach; all-absorbing guilt mixed with thick bubbling anxiety at the inevitable prospect of braving through the terrifying conversation with his friends. Out of that compulsive worry, too, he forces himself to snap out of. Breaking eye contact and staring at an empty corner, he continues to mumble out. “High school would have been a lot less obnoxious if I didn’t have five people a day ask me about my handsome friend.”

“Oh, right, Yoongi-hyung said he has a friend who was a lot of people’s gay awakening. Is that you, Seokjin-hyung?” Jungkook’s sparkly wide eyes stare in awe, munching on his chicken in a manner that wouldn’t disappoint a nature-found bunny, leaning his head on Yoongi’s shoulder as he looks at Seokjin on the couch in front of him, long hair-strands tickling Yoongi’s neck and jaw. Hoseok sits next to Seokjin, laughing a chortling snort as Jungkook's words are let out of his lips.

“Absolutely never said that,” Yoongi deadpans, causing Hoseok to burst into laughter again. “Ever.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook gasps, lightly slapping the other man’s thigh with the hand previously held at his neck, allowing it to comfortably stay placed against the skinny thigh, always pressed into him in whatever way he can, always close. “Never took you for a liar!”

“We do what needs to be done to contain this hyung’s ego,” Hoseok supplies, slapping Seokjin’s back with a short laugh, sharing a look between the two of them that Yoongi would almost raise a brow at if the rest of the men present weren't so incredibly distracting.

“Seokjin-hyung gave me his birthdate,” Taehyung supplies between bites of his own chicken wings. “He has a Sagittarius sun and an Aries moon, that’s why.”

“Hey, you have to explain it if you say it, Taehyung-ah.” Namjoon demands, half complaining and half joking, already looking at the younger man with fondness. Yoongi can't blame him, not when he’s gotten so close to Jungkook so quickly, and not when he’s met Kim Taehyung before, in all his puppy-eyed charm and charisma.

“Nah, I'm not too good at explaining. Call it intuition. It’s how I knew Yoongi-hyung and Jungkook-ah would get along.” Taehyung grins, sending a knowing wink at Jungkook who chuckles back at him. 

“It's true, he did,” Jungkook nods eagerly against Yoongi’s shoulder, hair falling into his eyes at the movement. “He told me before me and hyung met, and we really did hit it off.”

“I didn't know you two were friends,” Hoseok raises a brow with a curious heart-shaped smile. “You seem really close.”

“We are!” Jungkook declares proudly, grin so wide it overtakes half of his face, squeezing Yoongi's thigh almost unconsciously. Yoongi turns to look at him as he says it, something flipping in his stomach, that same thing that urges him to steal glances at the man’s lips when he talks. Soft , his mind still repeats, even when enough time has passed to no longer remember the physical feel of them against him. “Hyung’s the only person who can get me to sleep these days.”

“Oh?'” Seokjin smiles, cocks his head and almost smirks at Jungkook, looking beyond interested. Yoongi doesn't know why, but something about his reaction makes him go red in the face. “Well, Yoongichi is very calming.”

“He is,” Jungkook smiles sweetly, worry-free in the way he snuggles into Yoongi's side, like it’s only natural, like it’s to be expected. Yoongi watches with pigmented blush decorating his cheeks as Hoseok and Seokjin exchange pointed looks they think he doesn't notice. It only makes him turn that many shades of red darker. “Is it because he’s a water sign?” He scrunches his nose at Taehyung.

“He’s a mutable Pisces sun and a mutable Virgo moon, so yeah,” Taehyung explains, pointing a blaming finger at Jungkook. “But you also have a mutable sun and moon and you’re a menace!”

“ I'm a menace?!” Jungkook jolts to his knees with a huge grin, lifting his head off Yoongi’s shoulder, who wears a small displeased pout at the sudden lack of contact he’s been addicted to lately. Taehyung mirrors Jungkook's position on the floor next to Jimin, watching him pointing back. “You’re the menace!”

The other five laugh at the bickering, and Yoongi personally finds them adorable, thinks there's nothing cuter than the unadulterated happiness painting their faces as they play-fight. The concept of an actual fight between the two is almost laughable. It’s nice to simply look, simply hear, and feel their happiness radiating out of them and seeping under his skin. 

“Let's all agree that both of you are menaces and finish this off.” Jimin laughs, pulling Taehyung back by his jacket into his position on the floor. Jungkook huffs back a laugh and falls back down to sit on the floor next to Yoongi, leaning on the bed, right hand reaching to rest against the mattress itself and subsequently wrapping around Yoongi’s shoulder. It’s not a surprise when Jungkook’s knuckles and the tips of his fingers find a home on Yoongi’s neck again, a favorite spot of Jungkook’s to busy his hands in.

Yoongi notices another bewildered look shared between Hoseok and Seokjin, who look at their point of contact with great interest. 

“You know, you guys should meet me and Seokkie’s partners, they also take life-sciences, maybe you even take some courses together, Jungkook-ah, Namjoon-ah.” Seokjin suggests, a raised brow sent their direction in suggestion.

Hoseok hums in agreement, nodding along, brow still raised somewhat knowingly. “Yeah, is anyone else here taken? Maybe we could even do a triple date.”

A sad chorus of ‘no’s and ‘I wish’es and ‘too busy’s are heard. It seems Hoseok and Seokjin are particularly attentive to Jungkook’s reply, even to Yoongi’s who’d for sure let them in on the information if he were seeing anyone— which he most certainly is not. But both Yoongi and Jungkook say no, not a surprise to either of them who would naturally not need a cuddle-buddy if they had a loving partner back home to share such close physical affections with. Yoongi watches suspiciously as his two childhood friends share a confused look, before nodding at each other indiscreetly. “Well, if it helps, juggling relationships and studies really is hard.”

“If you have time for triple dates you have time to take us out for BBQ, eldest hyung.” Taehyung says matter of factly between bites of his chicken, expression serious and yet playful in the manner every word of his is.

“Yah, no need to beg. Find a date, group-chat creator, and the hyungs will take you all out.” Seokjin tells Taehyung, not quite believing it’s something the man will manage to do but happy to be proved wrong.

“Next week, Wednesday before the first assignments are out, no coursework to work on yet, 7 pm. Is anyone busy?” Again in his seamlessness, Taehyung leaves the other six men speechless, entirely awestruck by how easy he makes it look to do the one thing the two friend groups present have been struggling and straight out failing to do for much too long. The stunt silence stretches, Taehyung letting out a pleased smile. “Great, it’s a date, then.”

And Yoongi doesn't know how Taehyung does it time and time again, but he sort of wants to kiss the ground he walks on and have him take him under his wing to learn his ways. Jungkook and him share a shell-shocked look that spreads into disbelieving grins.

And there’s something about the situation that spreads warmth through Yoongi's chest. The understanding that they are all meeting again, that this isn't a one-time get-together, that these people all want to see him and each other again as a group, that this is a safe space for him to relax, knowing three trusted people are there to make him comfortable, and three others just as interested in his company. 

It makes it easier to loosen up, makes it easier to join in on the conversation, to crack jokes at his friends’ expanse, to eat his fried chicken and swat Jungkook’s arm in defiance when he steals one of his drumsticks, to chuckle when Jungkook wipes off sauce from his chin with a scrunch of his nose, to lean back into the warmth of his side as Yoongi allows himself to bicker with Seokjin and laugh at Taehyung and Jimin’s heated arguments and listen attentively to Namjoon explaining to Hoseok and him the reason he chose to study marine biology. And of course, to lean in closer to Jungkook, to hear his funny comments right against his ear, ones that he only wants Yoongi to hear, that always make him laugh out loud and accidentally brush his ear against the other man’s lips and lose all trace of composure for a few moments, thoughts spiraling right back to the never-ending cycle of thoughts about pretty plump lips, reminding him of their softness if he manages to momentarily forget. He purses his own unconsciously, cheeks painted red, until he’s led into another conversation by a giddy Hoseok who proves to be a well-needed distraction.

It makes it easier to form a connection, and to thrum from head to toe with excitement about the next meeting.

When it’s late and they need to make it to their buses home, they clean after themselves, the end of the night making itself inevitable- that's when Yoongi’s reality crashes onto him full-force. Taehyung smiles at Yoongi when they finish gathering all the take-out boxes, and takes both Jimin and Namjoon by their hands to their bus stop with a chirpy ‘see you Wednesday evening!’. Yoongi looks at Jungkook nervously, wipes his palms on his jeans with a stressed-out kind of glaze to his eyes.

“Hyungs, do you think you can handle taking out the trash or do you need a hand?” He asks with innocence in his expression, big eyes looking straight at Yoongi with gentle support and a small tilt of his head. Looking like a translator to his words, telling Yoongi what he really means is, ‘can I be of any help, hyung?’.

“Ah, we’re okay Jungkook-ah, it’s three bags, just enough for the three of us,” Hoseok smiles and ruffles Jungkook's head in thanks. “It was awesome meeting you, we’ll see you Wednesday, yeah?”

Jungkook nods sweetly at Hoseok, waving goodbye from where he sits on Yoongi’s gray couch, now back in its proper placement in front of the TV. “See you, hyungs! It was nice meeting the both of you. I've heard a lot about you from Yoongi-hyung.”

“Ah, we haven't heard a word about you, how is that fair?” Seokjin stares Yoongi down as he talks, still wearing a smile, each now grabbing a bag to throw out on their way down. 

“Hyung will make it up to you, I'm certain,” Jungkook smiles, scrunching his nose in a teasing grin at Yoongi, who huffs out a chuckle. 

When they go out the door, Yoongi sends Jungkook a freaked-out grimace, receives back a thumbs-up and a mouthed ‘fighting!’ and then he closes the door after him. 

The three walk through the halls of the dorm building and are quiet until they exit the elevator down on the ground floor. It’s Seokjin who breaks the silence and Yoongi's uncontrollable overthinking on overdrive, who’s been silently almost convincing himself to chicken out, to not mention it, to just bid goodbye and end the night. But behind his eyes he sees Jungkook’s expression encouraging him, doesn't want to imagine what he will look like if he returns to admit he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He would understand, of course, Jungkook is nothing but supportive, but he wants to see his honest eyes filled with pride, wants to do something good for himself and get the support he’ll need afterwards.

“So, I’m just going to be straightforward, Yoongichi. are you and Jungkook seeing each other?” Seokjin lets out the moment they step out, studying Yoongi’s reaction closely, Hoseok curiously tuned into the conversation as well. Yoongi, naturally, promptly chokes. 

“Are we w- what ?” The words take a few moments to register. He hasn’t taken the time to think of what those newly discovered intrusive thoughts of Jungkook’s lips on him really mean, has not asked himself that question in the midst of his emotional turmoil. And now when presented with the idea, when questioned about it, he’s embarrassed to admit the answer to the question is not that difficult to come up with on the fly. “No, we aren’t- I- we’re just friends.”

“You just seemed really close?” Hoseok asks, the three of them walking together, nightly chill clinging to their skin as the streetlights light their way. “He had his arm wrapped around your shoulder half the time. I don't remember the last time you let me wrap my hand around your shoulder.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, toys with the loose hem of his sweater, with his sleeves. Takes a deep breath, feels electrified with his heartbeat going haywire. “I- um. We’re not seeing each other, but… I think, I think I might be interested? I keep thinking of kissing him and it’s… yeah…”

“Woah, this is amazing news— he was all over you! Me and Jin-hyung were saying to each other that his hands didn't leave you for a second. I think you have a shot, hyung.” Hoseok smiles, heart shaped and excitable. “I've never seen you like that before, it’s adorable.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll get our triple date soon, Seok-ah.” Seokjin chortles out a laugh, slapping Hoseok’s back.

“It’s not only that…” Yoongi struggles, feeling his heartbeat in his throat, nestled there against his will. His brain feels like a mushy overheated lump, unresponsive in its anxiety, too much blood circulating too fast, nerve endings on fire. But oh, oh, he has to do it. He has to ask. Everything will be okay. It’ll all be okay, he repeats to himself like a mantra in the melodic quality of Jungkook's airy tone. He can do it. He can try to do it, at least. He has to try. He repeats to himself— what you don’t change, you choose . “I-, um,” he looks at the two staring at him curiously, his two childhood best friends he’s known for over a decade, people he trusts and loves and yet is so hesitant to confront. He hurries towards the nearby trashcan so they can get rid of the takeout bags and so he’ll be free of any distractions— and momentarily free from their gazes so he can finally breathe. When he does, the next breath he takes is kept hostage in his lungs, held still. “Lately I’ve… I’ve been going through a rough patch, and needing some more- uh, physical affection? Like, um, platonically, and Jungkook-ah is really touchy, and I guess I needed that, sort of? And I didn't really know how to ask the two of you… plus we haven't been meeting so often… and, um, yeah. It’d be nice to meet more often, and, if you want, to be touchier? Like, hugs, or… I don't know.” Yoongi grimaces and curls into himself in embarrassment. “God this is the worst thing I’ve ever said, I'm sorry.”

“Oh. No, we’re sorry, hyung. We haven't really been present, have we?” Hoseok says, mouth set into a pursed line, brows furrowed in regret. “You’ve been having a hard time and we didn't even know. I'm really sorry, hyung.”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad! I just- I’ve been having a hard time braving up to admit it and then it just became worse over the last few months and—” Yoongi hurries to console, feels guilt building in his chest at the prospect of guilt tripping his friends for being busy— that’s the last thing he wants and the first he was trying to avoid and he failed and now Hoseok feels bad and—

“Yoongichi, you’re right. I can say for myself I've been failing miserably at time management, and it’s something I need to work on. I’m sorry you’ve been having a hard time and I'm thankful you told us, if you've been nervous to tell us then we’ve been doing something wrong. I wish you would have told us earlier so we could have tried to be more present.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’m sorry, Yoongi-hyung.” Hoseok purses his lips, brows momentarily furrowed but easily returning to his signature lighthearted expression. “And we’d both love to tackle you into hugs left and right, hyung, we’ve been begging you to let us for years,” he smiles, nudging Yoongi’s shoulder with his. Making Yoongi’s frown soften into the beginning of a smile.

“I didn’t mean to blame you or anything. I just felt a little cornered since you’ve got school and your partners and your other friends and… I didn’t want to, like, demand anything and make you upset." Yoongi admits, with a hand pushing his hair back. His heart is getting lighter as they speak, the realization that this is actually going well finally settling into his gut comfortably, anxiety induced adrenaline dissipating into relief. 

“We just need to manage our time better. You’re right, you’re important to us and we’ve been inconsiderate.” Seokjin nods, frown growing into a determined look of decision. “We can meet on campus or— get a coffee before class, even if it’s short it’s still worthwhile. Whenever we go out it always ends up a few hours long, so it’s been a little hard for me to find the time. I'll do better.”

“We don't have to go out to eat all the time, we can just— sit together, study our own stuff in the library. Human interaction is important, I've realized.” Yoongi laughs a chuckle tinged with regret, now that he knows what he’s been deprived of and missing, having Jungkook patiently waiting for him on his ugly gray couch in his oversized jeans and flannel. 

“That’s a great idea. we can set a day and arrange to study together.” Hoseok nods in support, biting his lips, expectant and grinning as he throws an arm around Yoongi's shoulder. “Ah, Seokjinnie-hyung, he’s letting me do it, look!” 

That pulls a giggle out of Yoongi, and promptly turns into a fond laugh when Hoseok pulls him into a hug. Yoongi sighs into it, giddy under his bones and lighthearted with adrenaline as his hands wrap around Hoseok’s waist. That’s it, he realizes. They understand, they didn't get upset, they didn't feel attacked or offended— they just listened.

Yoongi is discovering there’s nothing better than simply being listened to. 

Separating from Hoseok, Yoongi reaches to give a hug to Seokjin, reluctant but also excited, holds his close friend in silent thanks and feels in his gut the way his life is going to change just by simply expressing his needs, and just by simply being heard in return.

“Next time, come knock at my door and tell me I'm a lousy hyung, will you?” Seokjin smiles. “I've been trying to get a Yoongi-hug for years. Are we dreaming, Seok-ah?”

They separate with echoing chirping of laughs and before they go their way the two of them manage to hug Yoongi at least three more times, ruffle his hair and make him regret his request just a tiny bit— okay not really, not with the huge grin on his lips that doesn't come off even as he’s taking the elevator up to floor six, even when he’s walking towards his door and passes by people who look at him smiling to himself and probably think he’s weird. It means nothing at all, because his friends listened and he feels like his breath has been knocked out of him, like he just started running that marathon Jungkook has been talking about all this time, like he’s gaining speed the more time passes, running down that fork in the road. 

With his heartbeat thrumming and his cheeks hurting, he thinks to himself— it can't get any better than this. 

He feels lit up by tingling sparks all over his body, Yoongi wears his uncontrollable grin even as he opens his dorm room’s door to see Jungkook lounging on his couch. The younger’s eyes immediately fall on him as he enters, a wide bunny-smile spreading slowly in reaction to Yoongi’s own ecstatic expression.

Jungkook straightens on the couch, eyes not leaving Yoongi's face as the other man approaches him. “Can I assume it went well, hyung?”

Yoongi’s knees meet the couch, and he sits back on his feet with an elated kind of heat in his eyes, gums on show and breathless. “It did. It did. I had no reason to be afraid, you were right.”

“Fear is often baseless, Yoongi-hyung. I’m so happy for you,” Jungkook reaches out his hands to embrace Yoongi’s waist, snuggling into the arms wrapping around his neck in return. Jungkook squeezes Yoongi in a tight hug, giggling a bit, “I’m so relieved for you, hyung.”

“Me too, god, they were both really nice about the touching thing and- and casual about it. Casual! Like it wasn't even a big deal! like I could have texted it instead! Jungkook-ah, can you believe it?” Yoongi laughs incredulously, Jungkook's giggles mirrored in his own reaction, giddiness so strong in the air it’s contagious like Jungkook’s grins and his honesty and his infinite energy. Jungkook hugs him closer between giggles, chests pressed together and hands traveling up to hold against Yoongi's shoulder blades. “They said we’ll arrange to meet more, too, and said they wish I had said something earlier.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook lets out between giggles, nose pressed against Yoongi's neck where his sweater collar sits, hears his heartbeat thudding against his skin tissue. “Hyung, my cheeks hurt from smiling, hyung, I’m so happy for you—”

Yoongi’s fingers find Jungkook's hair and they tangle in the strands distractedly, pulling the younger man close until he can breathe in his sweet laundry detergent without even trying. “I couldn't have done it without you, Jungkook-ah. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Ah, I didn’t do a thing, hyung. You just needed time. It takes time and a lot of psyching up to stop being afraid.” Hands travel up Yoongi’s back and down to his waist, slow caresses as gentle as his breaths hitting Yoongi’s skin, repetitive in their rhythm, steady, grounding.

“That’s the thing, Jungkook-ah. I never stopped being afraid. I was afraid until the last second, and while talking to them, too." Yoongi admits, exhales shakily, recalls the trembling of his fingertips and the deafening drumming of his heartbeat in his ribcage.

“Oh? Then hyung, you’re even more incredible than I thought.” Jungkook leans back to look Yoongi in the eyes, hands coming up to be placed steady on Yoongi’s shoulders and his gaze spilling emotions out like a waterfall, reflected so clearly Yoongi almost drowns trying to decipher all the ripples in those two mirrors to his heart. “You were afraid and yet you still did it. You overcame your fear, you fought against it and through it, too. That takes so much courage. I’m so proud of you, Yoongi-hyung.”

And Yoongi’s smile is shy, is giddy, is adrenaline-filled and hopeful and overflowing at the seams. It’s that sentence that he’s longed to hear from that mouth pulled into that exact bunny smile. The melodic stretch of his syllables over Yoongi’s name. It loosens something in Yoongi’s chest, and he bursts into giggles again. “I’m so relieved. It wasn’t that hard, Jungkookie. Next time I won't be afraid.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook licks his lips with a smile, eyes glued with his familiar emotional intensity to Yoongi's giggling frame. “Should I remind you that you said this the next time you’re scared to speak up?”

“Do you promise you’d be here?” Yoongi breathes out, chest heaving at his breathlessness, adrenaline spiked up in his veins and almost blinding his vision.

“A thousand times yes. Just say you want me to and I will.” Jungkook nods at him, eyes serious but also on fire with unadulterated intent. His hands trail up from Yoongi's shoulders to caress the pale line of his neck, feather-light and adoring. “I told you I could be your break from running, but if you need company, I'm also quite the sprinter.”

“You are?” Yoongi's lips stretch into a gummy grin, cheeks and ears tinged rosy. He tugs at the end of Jungkook's flannel, looks at where he holds it— too shy to look at Jungkook as he talks. “Will I still get cuddles, though? You’ve gotten me hooked.”

“You’re the one who’s hooked?” Jungkook throws his head back in a laugh, brushing the long strands of his hair back before resettling his hands on Yoongi’s hips and pulling him down with him to lay on the couch with a surprised squeak, falling down in the midst of their giggles, facing each other in the small space the compact gray cushions allow. The two breathe against each other, still grinning like fools, and Jungkook says, “I was thinking of holding you in the twenty minutes you’ve been out. It sure sounds like withdrawal to me.”

“You can hold me whenever,” Yoongi replies a bit breathlessly, Jungkook’s face a little closer than he’s used to, and with the urging realization of his now unignorable feelings not long ago— it takes will of steel to not stare down at Jungkook’s lips, probably still just as cloud-soft and inviting as he remembers and imagines them to be, except he doesn’t allow himself a look, not from this up close. 

“Yeah? Giving me free reign?” Jungkook asks, eyes a little distant but fingers beginning to trail along Yoongi's waist, drawing shapes into his lower back, making Yoongi feel even closer to him, as if the private caresses are pulling him in, magnetic, slowly goading him forward. 

Yoongi only nods silently, keeps eye contact with Jungkook, feels the longest parts of the dark strands of his hair tickling his neck, focuses on everything in the vicinity but his lips— the small scar on his cheek, the lashes rimming those doe eyes, small dotted beauty marks, tiny eyebrow hairs swept out of place— but with all his attempts he fails to ignore those lips, so close and so pink and so magnetizing— yet so unattainable.

Jungkook gives Yoongi a leveled, calm look, just the tip of his smile curling upwards, and then he takes Yoongi’s hand and intertwines their fingers into one another, letting their clasped palms rest together between their chests. “Can I hold this?”

Yoongi’s heartbeat accelerates unnervingly. He stares at their hands held together, wonders what it means, almost starts to overthink— but remembers the two mirrors into Jungkook's brain that are his eyes, free at his disposal— looks right into them, and sees an invitation. Sees an option laid on the table just waiting to get picked, and also an easy ticket out, if he chooses to grab it. 

He, of course, doesn't. Jungkook’s invitation looks a lot like an opening of a door Yoongi’s just recently discovered he’s curious of peeking inside of— he doesn’t think he can give that curiosity up just yet, not when Jungkook’s contagious flame is lapping at his chest where they’re pressed together, not when Jungkook’s palm is warm against his own, softly caressing a thumb back and forth. It’s just that Yoongi is new to this; has never been offered something in this manner, riddled and quizzical, interpretation based solely on his familiarity with the other person, words not spoken but meaning understood crystal clear. So Yoongi— he nods again, and tries to showcase in his eyes the depth of his agreement, to mirror his heart just a quarter of the amount Jungkook pours into his own emotive eyes. 

“What about this?” Jungkook breathes out, eyes scanning Yoongi’s face like they oftentimes do, when he and Yoongi try things the older man has never done before, when he wants to gauge his reaction and make sure he’s comfortable at all times. As he speaks his free palm rises up to place itself against Yoongi’s cheek, softly cupping the plump pink-painted skin, once again thumb moving and gliding against the supple cheek in a ticklish caress. The intimacy in the small gesture makes Yoongi's eyes close for just one blissful, calming moment before he reopens his eyes to peek once again into Jungkook's soul-baring eyes, looking for a clue, for some guidance in reading Jungkook’s intent. 

Seeing nothing other than the sweetest fondness in those eyes, Yoongi nods again, leans into the touch almost unconsciously, eye contact intense and uninterrupted— charged and filled to the brim with expectancy, with excitement, breathes held captive in their lungs as they share the intimate privacy of the silent exchange.

They’re pressed together, not in an unfamiliar way, not new by now, and yet they’re stuck still as if it’s the first time they come this close to one another, the tension bearing a layer of intimacy they haven't crossed just yet. Jungkook exhales slowly. His thumb lowers in its caress until the pad of it brushes against the plumpest part of Yoongi’s bottom lip, almost pulling it with it but not quite. Not pressing, just touching, just barely held against the sensitive skin.

“And here, hyung? Is this okay too?” He whispers out, asking for permission with his eyes as well as his words. 

Jungkook’s doe-like orbs are slightly glazed over, focused on Yoongi’s lip under his thumb, and it gives Yoongi the silent permission to finally allow himself a look at the other man’s lips, looking even pinker, even softer from up close, looking like they’d taste of strawberries and feel like thick rainclouds, looking like they’d be everything Yoongi has been picturing, everything he’s imagined them to be, and far better.

He wants to know. 

And he thinks Jungkook might want to find out, too.

“Yes,” he whispers out, and just as it’s uttered Jungkook’s eyes fly up to his, catching the indicative emotions running through Yoongi’s eyes and only then, only then allowing himself to lean forward where he’s laying on the couch, where Yoongi is pressed into him, where his palm rests on a pale cheek— and put his lips on his.

And kissing Jungkook is new. It’s new and strange but distantly familiar; like Yoongi’s brain has wondered, has imagined, has pictured, so many times, the view they would make with their lips touching softly, as careful as Jungkook’s hands are, as careful as his words, but just as self-assured. A contrast which complicates him so well, that makes Yoongi’s brain vacant but for the physical sensation. It's like he’s thought of kissing Jungkook enough times in the last couple of hours to have a made-up idea of what it must feel like. Only there isn’t a chance in the world, even for a certified overthinker like Yoongi, to come anywhere close to what it feels like to really, actually kiss Jeon Jungkook. 

Yoongi has never kissed someone he’s interested in before. Has never felt brave enough to, or has never felt like it’s something that could possibly be his to wish for. It must be the dopamine in his brain playing tricks, maybe Jungkook really is as addictive as he is contagious; maybe Yoongi’s brain has been hooked for longer than he’d like to admit, and maybe, maybe, maybe he’s ready to admit to himself that he likes him. That he likes the feel of his hands around him, how they guide him and caress and press and hold. Likes the way he mumbles in his sleep, smacking his lips and always waking up puffy-dry, thirsty like he’s ran a marathon. Likes his hair all messed up, all sweaty, all tidied in a ponytail. Likes his eyes that talk to Yoongi with enough depth to make a person of their own, likes the warmth, likes the tingles, likes the goosebumps. Likes the comforting, stable presence, likes the space set especially for him, likes the toothy grin he’s faced with when they meet and when they bid their goodbyes and when they talk or laugh or when they finish sharing their ugliest sides and need the relief.

Likes the touch. Likes the caress of his skin, likes the feel of hard muscle and plump cheeks and soft hairs and sharp bones, likes all the different kinds of closeness, the different types of intimacy he’s discovering with him. Likes being shown how to explore and discover what he likes and, and, and, likes his lips. Especially against his own, moving in a way so gentle and considerate yet so impactful, held close and needing to separate for air before diving right back like they never stopped. Especially for the first time, especially where they first met, especially when everything inside Yoongi feels like hope is blooming in garden-loads and like maybe, maybe for sure, things are moving, moving fast, running pace, sprinting pace, head-first into the path he’s chosen to change his course into, now that he’s not standing still in the in-between maze, now that the intersection’s behind him, now that he feels like he can keep running— Jungkook’s hand in his, and for the long run.