Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Jungkookie,” Seokjin croons, moving Jungkook’s backpack out of the chair across the table that he specifically placed there to keep people from thinking they could just sit down with him. Seokjin just sits down. “My sweet bosum child, my darling baby gay whom I would skip my nightly skincare routine for, who I would loan my valentino dress shirt for his first date, who calls me at—”

Jungkook says without looking up from his textbook, “You’re not helping your case, hyung, and I’m not carrying an armchair up four flights of stairs for you again.”

“Noted. But that’s not why I’m here.” Seokjin drapes his arms across the backs of the chairs at his side, then states airily, “How do you feel about older men?”

Jungkook highlights four words too far and sighs. “I’m not sure what the correct answer to this question is.”

“Well, do you like them?”

“I hang out with you, don’t I?”

Seokjin rests a hand against his heart, tips his head back to stare at the ceiling with closed eyes. “My precious bean curd, I’ve trained you so well.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Jungkook mumbles, glancing around Seokjin’s sprawled form to look for the other guys’ table. Namjoon and Yoongi are both making avid eye-contact but have made no move to intervene. Whatever’s happening here, it can’t be that bad. Seokjin’s just needing a favor, and honestly, Jungkook would carry an armchair for him again. Maybe even a loveseat if it was light enough. Definitely never a mattress again. His love only extends so far.

(His love for his hyungs is actually infinite but he really only has known some of them half a year and he doesn’t want to be weird just yet.)

“And already you’re standing on the same proverbial battle field as me,” Seokjin coos and a wink slips out. Jungkook’s ears warm, but he’s doing better these days. The first time Seokjin winked at him, Jungkook knocked over a table display of artisan breads. “Maybe in ten years you’ll actually be able to win against me.” Jungkook snorts at that and Seokjin kicks him under the table. “Respect, young man. So. Older men. What do you think?”

“Of what?”

“Dating them.”

Jungkook’s first instinct is to laugh, very loudly, and down the rest of his still-very-hot latte. But that’d be an obvious cue that this is suddenly a very uncomfortable social situation for him to be in, and Seokjin can smell fear. So instead he leans back in his seat to match Seokjin’s posture, feels like a total fuckboy for doing so, and drops his arms again. Seokjin smirks and Jungkook, wide-eyed, says in all seriousness, “Hyung, are you propositioning me? In broad daylight? With Joon-hyung three tables away?”

Seokjin sputters around the rim of his cup and manages out a red-faced and strangled, “ What ?”

“Is Joon-hyung in on this, too?” Jungkook peeks around Seokjin again to give Namjoon a lascivious wink. Namjoon chokes on his bagel. “Okay, but only this once,” Jungkook says to Seokjin, whose face is still pinched and pink. “Five hundred thousand an hour. I’ll need to see your kink list to make sure we’re compatible, though.”

“What are you—Five hundred thousand!” Seokjin screeches, and Namjoon rises from the table and Yoongi swats him back down. “That’s robbery!”

Jungkook shrugs. “Jimin says I should know my worth. Five hundred is actually on my low end. I’m cutting you a deal.”

Seokjin leans forward and Jungkook matches the movement. “Are you serious right now? Kookie, if you need money, hyung can help.”

“Of course I’m not serious,” Jungkook responds just as stern, and Seokjin releases a drawn-out groan and presses his forehead into the table. “Have you seen me try to flirt? Do you really think I’d be able to be a sex worker? That’s hard work. That’s a lot of emotional labor I am not capable of producing.”

Seokjin just holds up his finger, and Jungkook finishes off his mocha while Seokjin gets himself put back together. When he rises, he smooths out his bangs and dabs on some tinted chapstick and then jabs a finger Jungkook’s direction. “Okay, for starters, your minimum should be at least eight hundred thousand. A hundred for every twinkle in those beautiful Bambi eyes of yours. Secondly, Joon and I are in a strictly monogamous relationship. Not even your perky butt could tempt us. And third, when I say older men, I mean one specific man.”

Jungkook’s thrown by that. Well, this entire conversation is a whirlwind of confusion, but Seokjin wanting to get him to date? “You’re trying to set me up?”

“I’ve got the perfect guy for you,” Seokjin nods, back to sprawling. “Picture this: bright smile, darling dimples, cares about everyone and everything, major BDE—”

“You sure you’re not talking about Namjoon hyung?”

Seokjin slams a hand on the table. “Are you thirsting for my boyfriend?”

“Everyone thirsts for your boyfriend,” Jungkook answers. “It’s Namjoon-hyung. People flunk tests just to get him to tutor them.”

Seokjin rests on this information for a couple seconds and then just shrugs, nonplussed. “Also noted. Thank you for the inadvertent compliments on my taste in men, but no, I’m not referring to Joonie. I’m talking about Hoseok.”

“Hoseok-hyung?” Jungkook blinks, so off-kilter he forgets to make a sassy response. Seokjin notices and edges a brow up.

“You seem surprised.”

“I didn’t know he was gay.”

“He’s…” Seokjin waves a hand around non-committedly. “Actually, I don’t know what he is, but he’s definitely open.”

“That’s not the same as being queer, hyung.” Jungkook feels pins and needles up his spine. “You know I’m not like, out -out, right?”

“Yes, and that’s your call and I respect it which is why I haven’t set both of you bright-eyed baby boys up on a date just yet.”

“Please don’t call me that, either.”

Seokjin shrugs, and Jungkook twists his fingers into the hem of his t-shirt. Stares at his feet. Taps the toes of his sneakers together. This is a lot to take in. Too much to take in. Why is Seokjin asking him this? Why now? Why him?

Jungkooks narrows his eyes. “Is this a joke? ‘Cause the last time this happened it was for a bet and I’m not going through that again.”

“What the—” Seokjin drops the facade completely, eyes sparking as he moves. “Jungkook, no this isn’t a bet or a dare or anything. What the fuck? Who did that to you? I want a name.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. “It was a long time ago.” It was nine and a half months ago. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse I’m just—” Jungkook hands are hot and jittery and he tries to discreetly rub them against his thighs. “Why are you telling me I should go out with Hoseok-hyung?”

Seokjin still looks like he wants a fight. Better yet, Seokjin looks like he’s about to walk over to the back corner where Namjoon and Yoongi are still lingering, pretending that they’re not invested in whatever conversation is happening here, and tell them what Jungkook just said so that they can all go kill a man.

“I just think that you and Hobi could be good for each other,” Seokjin answers with uncharacteristic honesty, and Jungkook keeps rubbing his hands along his thighs and feels like Seokjin’s watching him too closely and stills. He picks at his thumbnail instead.

“You just want to play matchmaker like you did with Tae-hyung and Yoongi-hyung.”

“And see how well it turned out? They only pined after each other for like two weeks. That’s record-breaking.”

“I just—” Seokjin’s smile softens at his hestiance. Jungkook feels flipped inside out. “But it’s Hoseok-hyung.”

“Is that a problem?”

“We don’t really know each other—”

“That’s why you go on dates. To get to know the other.”

“And he’s older—”

“I did open this conversation with ‘how do you feel about older men’,” Seokjin states, pointing a finger again. “And you’ve obviously got some latent feelings for Joon, so…”

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “Fine, fine. It’s just. Hoseok-hyung is really cool, y’know? And I’m, like, not. Cool. At all.”

“Awww, my sweet pumpkin muffin, you’re cool.” Seokjin makes a kissy face.

“Never call me that again.”

“Does it turn you on?” Seokjin asks in a low tone that’s supposed to be seductive and Jungkook pretends is not.

“Not when you say it.”

Seokjin shrugs and falls back against his seat again. When he speaks, the high, humored tone is gone and replaced with something a little more solid. “Kook, I’m not going to force you on a date with Hobi. I just think that you guys could make a good match. Build off each other, bring out the best in the other or whatever. You know.”

“I’ll think about it, hyung.”

“Atta boy.” Seokjin tries to reach to fluff his hair and Jungkook slaps his wrist, then leans right in to be petted anyway. “Now finish your schoolwork.”

“I was before I was so rudely interrupted.”

“You love me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as Seokjin stands to leave. “I tolerate you.”

“Yeah right. I’m a delight. I bring joy to your benign life.”

“I only hang out with you because of Joon-hyung.”

“Just confess to him, Kook,” Seokjin tosses over his shoulder as he walks away. “He’ll let you down, of course, but it’ll be so sweet and kind that you’ll actually thank him for rejecting you.”

Jungkook ducks his head to hide his smile but hears Seokjin’s raucous laughter follow in response. As he tugs his laptop forward again, Jungkook peeks a glance over to the guys’ table and sees Namjoon with frantic, gesturing arms as Seokjin steals a chip off Yoongi’s plate. (And then another, and another, and then a fistful. Yoongi scowls and shoves the dish over so Jin will stop reaching across the table.)

~~~

The first time Jungkook met Jung Hoseok, Jungkook gave him a black eye.

On accident.

Partially.

Not a partial black-eye. It was definitely there.  Jungkook found out three weeks after it happened, when Seokjin pulled up before and after photos at the dinner party to show Jimin when he heard that Jimin does makeup tutorials on the side.

(“It’s just a hobby,” Jimin blushed and then chugged half a glass of red wine.

“He has half a million followers,” Taehyung sang from the kitchen and winked when Jimin sputtered and made a cut-throat motion. “Own it, Jimothy. You’re famous. You have sponsors. Our rent gets paid because of your face.”)

The photo in question was of Hoseok, the first with a deep blossom of purple and navy from the inner crease of his eye to the far side of his temple. The after, his skin is glowing and dewy fresh. No visible sign of a bruise. He’s even holding up a peace sign.

I’m a wizard, Seokjin had said, because apparently seven years of theatre gives a man extraordinary makeup skills and the accompanying bragging rights.

(He and Jimin then talked spring trends for forty minutes while Namjoon intermittently nodded and hummed on the side, asking just enough questions to keep them excited and the conversation flowing, not that they needed much of the extra help. But it was cute. Namjoon’s always cute.)

Hoseok must not have told anyone that it was Jungkook who hit him. At first, Jungkook thought it had more to do with embarrassment, but then he came to realize that Jung Hoseok is just a chill kind of guy and completely blasé about the whole thing, which is the exact opposite approach Jungkook tends to take to situations.

The situation is as follows:

Jungkook, caught half-naked in his own kitchen by a stranger walking through his living room.

Jungkook, who might have been holding a blender bottle when it happened.

“Who the fuck!” Jungkook shrieks, grabbing for a frying pan left in the drying rack from dinner last night as the man crumbles to the ground after Jungkook’s protein shake collides with his face. “Who are you!? Why are you in my house!?”

There isn’t any response, so Jungkook grips the pan like a bat and stalks over to the island to peek around the counter. There’s no way he knocked the guy out. He didn’t even get that much momentum behind the throw.

“ Dude ,” the man on the floor moans, and Jungkook raises the pan menacingly but it doesn’t matter because the stranger is just staring at the ceiling, clutching the side of his head in a daze. “Do you play baseball or something?”

“Taekwondo,” Jungkook replies, his brain-to-mouth filter momentarily rebooting, and he takes another step forward. “And track and field. Bowling. Swimming. Other stuff.”

“ Fuck .”

“Who are you?”

“Jung Hoseok.” The name doesn’t mean anything to him and Jung Hoseok groans as he rolls onto his side, then pushes off the floor with one hand to sit-up. “I’m a friend of Min Yoongi. I’m here to pick up—”

Jung Hoseok’s voice tapers off as he catches sight of Jungkook, still crouched by the island, and Hoseok’s  eyes widen slightly and oh shit—

“Blood,” Jungkook realizes the same time “Yoongi” and “friend” and “pick up” come crashing along right behind and holy shit he just attacked Taehyung’s new boyfriend’s friend. This so just lost him points. This is not how you try to integrate yourself into a new group. How is he supposed to face Yoongi at work this weekend?

Pins and needles prickle up his back, red hot, but Jungkook bolts down the hall to Jimin’s bathroom to pull out the first-aid kit, realizes he’s still holding the pan, and leaves it behind on the counter. When he returns, Jung Hoseok seems in even more of a daze than before as Jungkook crouches in front of him and starts to tug out antiseptic and a cotton pad.

“Who are you?” Hoseok whispers as Jungkook cleans the minor cut along his temple.

Jungkook feels like his cheeks are blistering. “Jeon Jungkook. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Hoseok answers, still staring open mouthed at Jungkook’s shoulders. “What?”

“I’m worried you’ve got a concussion,” Jungkook answers, placing a small bandage to the wound and giving it a gentle pat to hold it in place. “You’re kind of out of it. What day is it?”

“Thursday.” Hoseok’s still staring at his chest. “Wait, who are you?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook repeats, worrying his lip because he’s screwed. So screwed. Yoongi’s never gonna want to hang out again. His hands start to shake and he busies himself with repacking the kit. “I live here. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Hoseok is staring at his mouth like he doesn’t understand what Jungkook is saying, face pinched into a triangle. Jungkook gives him a moment to recover some more, but all Hoseok does is whisper “holy shit” very softly to himself.

“Yeah, I’m calling Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook says, standing to search for his phone.

“What? Why?”

“I think you’re concussed, Hoseok-ssi.”

“Why?”

Jungkook grabs his cell off the couch, where he tossed it after coming home from his run. “You keep, like, blanking.”

“That’s because you’re—” Hoseok cuts himself off and closes his eyes. “I’m fine. Not concussed. Had one before and I’m fine. Shit, you’ve got some arms, though. An arm, I mean. Good arm strength.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says hushed, wanting to evaporate into the air. He’s going twitchy. Needs to move. The adrenaline over the thought of a burglar in his apartment is dulling and leaving behind this big, bulky embarrassment to clobber around in his chest. He fiddles with his phone, then sets it on the coffee table. Regrets it immediately because he doesn’t have something to hold on to.

Hoseok shakes his head, then hisses under his breath. “Nah, you’re good. I knocked and no one answered, but I shouldn’t have just barged in like that.”

“I mean,” Jungkook squats back down in front of Hoseok to check his eye again and feels heavy under Hoseok’s now much more lucid stare. “Yeah. But it’s fine. Uhm, did you need something?”

Hoseok blinks, but he’s now staring intently in the general vicinity of Jungkook’s crotch. “Hyung needed a flash drive he left here. It was on my way to work, said I would grab it.”

“It’s probably in Tae’s room. Give me a second.”

The flash drive in question is red and sitting on Taehyung’s nightstand with a little note that reads, Jungkookie, Hoseok-hyung is coming by to grab this. Play nice. There’s a lumpy heart and a poorly executed winking face beside that and what the heck? Taehyung knew Hoseok was coming over and didn’t tell him?

Jungkook tugs off the post-it note. On the back is another scrawled sentence.

Told you this morning and you gave me two thumbs up.

Well. Okay, then. Looks like the reason why Jungkook will now be shunned from his potential friend group is because Taehyung decided two thumbs up is equivalent to verbal consent.

Hoseok is still on the floor when Jungkook returns to the living room. He’s got his phone pulled out and is typing furiously. Probably to tell the others that Jungkook is a menace and he’s not allowed at the dinner party next month anymore.

Jungkook feels like a ticking time bomb as he hands over the drive. He needs to pace. Needs to go for another run. Needs to find something to do with his hands that isn’t picking the string of his joggers to a fray.

“Thanks,” Hoseok grins lightly. “Sorry, again, for scaring you.”

Jungkook’s going to say that he wasn’t scared, but he literally screamed and was about to throw down with a pan so he says instead, “How’d you get in, anyway?”

“Door was unlocked. Didn’t think anyone was home. Be glad I’m not an actual creep.”

And then this amazing thing happens.

It’s small and simple, quick as can be, but it leaves Jungkook stupefied, mind melting, like he’s lost on a wave.

Jung Hoseok winks at him.

Oh, no.

“I need to shower before class, so do you mind…?” Jungkook makes a vague gesture over his shoulder towards the entry and Hoseok perks up.

“Shit, yeah. I’ve got work, too.”

Hoseok seems stable on his feet, even does a little spin when he stands to prove a point, and Jungkook zombie shuffles behind him back to the front door with more harried apologies on both their parts.

Jungkook firmly flips the lock.

Picks his shake off the floor, lid still sealed shut.

Chugs it in two minutes.

Escapes to the shower to let out this dull and pathetic little whining noise because shit, oh shit. Not again.

~~~

Jungkook falls in love easily.

It’s a curse.

“No, it’s because you’ve got a libra venus, bitch.”

“I resent that.”

Jimin gives Jungkook’s general direction his winningest smile, but he has two cotton pads held over his eyes and Jungkook just scoffs. Jimin’s leg shoots out and catches him on the shin, and Jungkook curls away to hide on the toilet.

“It’s real sweet, actually,” Jimin continues as he cleanses his face. Today’s video was a new year’s eve look and there’s enough glitter on his face to blind a man, which was his goal. “Like, your dumb virgo ass that likes to overthink shit and would rather jump out a window than have an emotional conversation is ruled by the sign that’s most invested in one-on-one relationships. You’re literally in love with love.”

Jungkook taps his toes against the tile and frowns. “How do I undo it?”

“Kook. Jungkookie.” Jimin looks at him through the mirror and his racoon eyes are sad. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I think it’s sweet that your heart is so big.”

“‘M not sweet,” Jungkook mutters, holding up the trash bin for Jimin to toss his used pads in. “I’m mean. I’m… I’m edgy.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’ll always be my soft little egg.”

“I don’t wanna be an egg,” Jungkook pouts as Jimin starts to wash off his foundation. “I want to be a brick. Or a mollusk or something.”

Jimin hums. “Do I need to give you The Self Worth Speech.”

“No.”

“You sure?” Jimin looks over his shoulder and frowns. “I’ll do it. I’m ready. Tae gives it better but I can do it. I can call Tae.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m just…” Jungkook folds his arms against his chest, wanting to feel scrunched and small. “Feelings.”

“Yes, you do have those.”

“Whatever. Why didn’t you keep your face on? It was pretty.”

Jimin shrugs, not really answering. Jungkook asks this every time Jimin does a video on the nights they go out, only to take off all his makeup before they actually leave. Obviously Jungkook knows why he does it, but he wishes that Jimin felt safe enough to wear it out one day.

“So. Who’s the lucky human to be the object of your affections this month?” Jimin’s watching him through the mirror again as he applies moisturizer. “Is it that cute girl in your pottery class? The one who does the clay blobs with creepy realistic mouths?”

“No. She’s cool, though. She’s gonna show me how to make teeth next week.” Jungkook chews on his lip. “Just a guy I ran into.”

“Are you going to run into him again? On purpose this time?”

“No. It wasn’t a great first meeting. Kind of embarrassing.”

Jimin looks at him for a long moment and it makes Jungkook go squirrely because he knows Jimin’s trying to evaluate what kind of embarrassment took place; a normal person with a normal amount of anxiety embarrassment, or Jungkook’s anxiety embarrassment that sleeps like a pit of snakes in his chest.

“Going to pine from a distance?” Jimin finally says.

“Yeah.”

“His loss.”

Jungkook wonders if he should have told Jimin about Hoseok. Taehyung and Yoongi are getting serious. It makes sense that, eventually, their friend groups are going to cross paths. As in, in two weeks, when Jungkook is going to be in the apartment of two strangers to bougie it up. That’s thirteen days to prep. Get over this niggling, buzzing in his chest that leaves him breathless whenever he thinks about Hoseok’s wink.

A goddamn wink pushed him over the edge. Jungkook is weak .

But he caught this early. He can cut his losses. This will be great. The smoothest unrequited love yet.

“Oh.”

Except, Jung Hoseok is currently standing in the doorway to Jimin’s dance studio.

“Hey!” Hoseok is smiling, smiling at Jungkook, and his mouth makes this heart shape Jungkook didn’t notice before because he wasn’t looking but now he’s looking and it is devastating. “Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook blanks, feels his knees knocking. Hoseok is walking towards him with this effortless lilt, chill and calm, like he knows he’s hot. And he is. Incredibly so, Jungkook realizes, now that he’s Looking. All golden skin and dark hair curling at his temples and, when he gets close enough, two dimples sunk deeply at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, no.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s staring at his dimples. Jungkook really wants to touch his dimples. Why is it always dimples? Dimples are going to be his downfall. “Yeah, that’s me. Uh, what are you doing here?”

Hoseok’s leaning against the wall, both hands in the pockets of his shorts. Just smiling. He needs to stop. “I work here.”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice cracks on the one syllable and he bites his cheek, his hands balling into fists. Hoseok edges an eyebrow up.

“Are you… here for a class?” Hoseok asks when a socially unacceptable amount of time has lapsed.

“No, I’m here to pick up Jimin,” Jungkook says. “Park Jimin?”

“You know Jiminie?”

“Yeah, we’re—”

“Jungkookie!” Jimin bursts into his space then, pulling him into a tight hug and then remains there, draped over Jungkook’s back. He’s sticky with sweat but still smells like tangerines, and Jungkook didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the scent surrounds him. “Is that for me?” He’s pointing to the smoothie in Jungkook’s hands, and when Jungkook nods, Jimin gives him a sloppy kiss on the chin. “Thanks, sweetheart. Ugh, I love you so much. What’s up, Hobi-hyung?”

Hoseok’s still smiling. Jungkook has the feeling it’s something he does a lot, doesn’t think twice about, but there’s a tightness around his eyes now and Hoseok shrugs. “Just talking to Jungkook-ah, here.”

“You know each other?” Jimin’s staring at him but Jungkook doesn’t want to meet his eye because he’ll know . “Small world.”

“Yeah, small world,” Hoseok laughs, and when he winks at Jungkook this time, it’s something sly and secret and unexpected. Makes Jungkook feel like he’s dissolving.

Jimin stills against him.

“I’ve got a class. Catch you both later?”

They both nod, and Hoseok tucks his hair behind his ears and Jungkook audibly gulps as he walks ahead down the hall, out of sight around the corner.

Jimin sucker punches his shoulder. “You’re fucking kidding me. Hoseokie -hyung? Crush in question is my boss ?”

“You don’t know anything,” Jungkook hisses and starts to move, but Jimin’s latched to him still and they just end up waddling. “Shut up. Don’t say anything. I’m over it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up.”

“Your bedroom eyes are getting real good.”

“Shut it!” And then, “He’s your boss?”

Jimin makes an extra loud slurp. “Yup. Do men in positions of power turn you on?”

“Hate you. Never bringing you food again. You can suffer.”

“So worth it,” Jimin snickers, reaching up to rub Jungkook’s warm neck, and then peeling away in laughter after he gives it a quick slap.

~~~

Jungkook runs in Hoseok five more times in the next week and half. Thrice at the studio when he does bring Jimin lunch again because he’s a great friend. Hoseok appears caught off guard every time it happens, but quickly squelches whatever surprise with that smile of his. Jungkook likes his smile, his dimples. Their mundane conversations about the weather and Jungkook’s major and Hoseok’s preferred dance style and both of their interests in hip-hop.

They’re trivial interactions, but Jungkook likes them. Likes the way he feels jangly and blushy and Seen when Hoseok talks to him. Likes the way Hoseok leans forward when he speaks, always asking to hear more. Likes the way Hoseok laughs with his whole body, kind of like Jimin, throwing his head back and gripping his stomach when Jungkook says something particularly cheeky one day.

The next couple times they meet is at the coffee shop, the one far enough from campus that there’s only ever a handful of students there lingering to study and meet while the rest of the customers are more of the grab-and-go type. Jungkook found the place through Taehyung a few months ago and claimed a stool at the window table in the back, far enough away from the pickup counter and creamer station that there’s barely any foot traffic. That’s why he’s startled when a body lingers near his side out of the corner of his eye one evening, and Jungkook feels cotton mouth set in at the sight of Hoseok’s dimples.

They don’t chat for long because Hoseok has a class to teach and is just there to grab a panini to go, nor two evenings later when Jungkook is just drifting in to grab a coffee before his night class and spots Hoseok lingering at Jungkook’s spot with a laptop and stack of folders at his elbow.

And then there’s the dinner party.

Jungkook feels impossibly young as he slips on the turtleneck Taehyung laid out for him during his shower like his mom used to do for church on Sundays or family reunions.

“How old are these people again?” Jungkook calls out to the air, and a moment later Taehyung floats into his room carrying a hair dryer.

“About Yoongi-hyung’s age,” Taehyung tells him, aiming the dryer at him like a secret agent with a gun. “One older, one younger.”

“What twenty-five-year-olds host a dinner party with a dress code?” Jungkook grumbles as Taehyung nudges him towards the bed. Jungkook slumps down to lean against the mattress, and Taehyung curls around him to sit, tugging Jungkook between his legs so he can style Jungkook’s hair.

“Jin-hyung just likes having company over,” Taehyung says over the whir of the fan. “And dressing up is fun.”

Taehyung’s in a silk, wine colored shirt and a pair of wide-legged velvet pants. His tie is the designer one Jimin got him for his birthday. He looks handsome and modelesque and nice. Jungkook doesn’t look like that. Jungkook looks like some kind of fuzzy caterpillar you find on the sidewalk, the ones that just look like that all their lives, not even the kind that morph into butterflies.

Jungkook’s not in the mood to talk, so Taehyung does it for him. Brings up his latest date with Yoongi, a visit to a small, contemporary art museum in Yongsan-gu that’s exhibiting a range of paper sculptures and installations that interact with their environment. He tells Jungkook about the online classes he’s thinking of applying for but isn’t sure if he wants to spend the money just yet. In the middle of a movie synopsis for a film on netflix he’s trying to get Jungkook to watch, Jimin comes in with one of his travel bags to do Jungkook’s makeup.

Jungkook rubs his palms in circles against his knees and curls up smaller, because being small makes him feel safe, makes him feel closer to being invisible. He wants to be invisible right now, caught between the two most beautiful people in his life. Jungkook just wants to build a fort on the sofa to burrow under and not dress up and talk to people.

“So handsome,” Jimin grins up at him as Taehyung curls his fringe away from his eyes.

Jungkook scrunches his nose and tries to still his hands. “You haven’t even started yet.”

“Exactly,” Jimin winks as he tugs out a brush for the pot of concealer in his hands. “Our Jungkookie is gorgeous all the time.”

Jungkook warms and leans further into the bed frame, and Taehyung chuckles and runs a tender hand through the hair at the base of his neck, like he knows Jungkook needs the attention but doesn’t know to ask for it. A year of living together makes people notice things. That’s probably why neither of them tease him further as they get ready, because they know Jungkook is brimming with nervous energy and maybe not the good kind.

Definitely not the good kind.

“There’s just a handful of us,” Taehyung says as they walk up to the door, his dark voice soothing as he presses into Jungkook’s side. “Everyone is really sweet, but if you need to head out, just text one of us and we can scadoodle on out, kay?”

Jungkook nods and tugs at his earring, one of the dangling ones Jimin lent him, his heart hammering in his throat.

Meeting people is good. Meeting people is important. This is important to Taehyung. Jungkook can handle a few hours with a bunch of strangers if it makes Taehyung happy.

Yoongi answers the door even though it’s not his apartment and Taehyung bounces on his heels, his face lighting up in surprise.

“Hey, hyung,” he beams, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Yoogi’s cheek, who is visibly stunned. Taehyung tends to do that to people, but it’s still cute to see the dazed expression on Yoongi’s usually impassive face as they’re let into the entry. Jimin must think the same because he’s giggling from behind.

They step into the living room and chaos erupts.

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok shouts the same time Namjoon looks over and lets out a warm, “Jungkookie,” the same time Jungkook stutters out, “Namjoon-hyung?”

A very beautiful man stands at the entry to the kitchen with a tray of stuffed peppers looking amused. “Am I the only one here who doesn’t know everyone?”

The situation gets resolved and is as follows:

Taehyung is dating Yoongi, who is former roommates with Seokjin (beautiful stuffed pepper man), who is dating Namjoon, who is Jungkook’s English tutor from last year, who is best friends with Hoseok, who is the co-owner of the dance studio Jimin now teaches at, who is roommates with Jungkook and Taehyung, who both work with Yoongi at the hotel.

Which brings Jungkook to this moment, alone with Jung Hoseok at a very nice dining table he could never hope to afford (there are even individualized place settings like out of a home catalogue), sweating in his turtleneck, watching Jimin hit it off with Seokjin while Yoongi and Taehyung canoodle on a loveseat, feeling much to small to fill his body.

“Didn’t know Jimin-ah did makeup,” Hoseok brings up as a conversation starter, their first one-on-one for the evening, swirling the wine in his glass.

He looks nice tonight. He looks nice all the time. Kind. Warm. Looking at Hoseok makes Jungkook feel flushed, like he just stepped out from a swim in the sun, and this evening is no different, with his red dress shirt unbuttoned to the collarbone and his hair styled to do a little flip above his forehead.

“He’s really good at it,” Jungkook nods, picking at the buckle on his belt, then glances over and says lower, “Is that a problem?”

Hoseok looks thrown by Jungkook’s quiet intensity, but then his dimples peak out as he laughs. “Hell no. Kid probably looks gorgeous. And do you really think Joon would be my best friend if I was some kind of closet bigot?”

“No.” Jungkook frowns, tugs at his belt harder. Kicks against the floor with his boot. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I respect that you’re ready to defend him,” Hoseok grins, softer this time. “That shit’s important in relationships.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how to move forward from that, so he tucks his hands between his legs and just listens to the quiet conversation, the gentle thrum of orchestral jazz coming out of a speaker somewhere. Jungkook’s not good at talking. Trips over his tongue, never has interesting topics to bring up. Hoseok is cool, though. Hoseok runs a business and does something he loves and is accomplished and handsome and doesn’t have adult acne and Jungkook’s sitting at a table with color-coded linens and he feels very small and very unimportant and a little like he’s gonna hurl.

“Hey. Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook squeaks, and he stands abruptly and power walks through the living room and down a corridor in what he hopes is the direction of the bathroom. He finds a half bath to the left, shuts the door, and sits down on the tile because it’s clean and cool and Jungkook’s heart is beating in his ears, his lungs, his throat.

He startles an unknown amount of time later when a hand strokes down his neck, and Jungkook catches his bottom lip to keep it from quivering as Jimin crouches beside him, pets his hair, hushes him softly.

“Wanna go home, sweetheart?”

“Couldn’t even make it three hours,” Jungkook bites. “Stupid.”

“You’re wonderful,” Jimin soothes, tilting Jungkook’s chin up. “Hey. You are lovely and doing your best. Proud of you.”

Jungkook sniffs and scrunches his nose. Jimin leads him out by the hand and Taehyung’s waiting in the hall to pull him into a fierce hug. “Wanna get some ice cream? Hyung’s treat?”

“No, I’m just gonna head out.” Taehyung and Jimin make to get ready to follow and Jungkook stops them. “It’s fine, you stay. I’m just going to go work out.”

They know better than to argue with him, but they do follow him to the door after Jungkook thanks Seokjin for the meal and makes plans to hang out with Namjoon next week. Yoongi gives him a soft, non-committal nod and Hoseok smiles in that warm and easy way of his, not a trace of pity in his eyes. That’s nice. He’s nice. He deserves someone who can make it through a group gathering without spazzing out.

Jungkook takes the bus back to their apartment to change into sweats and then heads to their gym down the block. A couple intense hours of swimming later, Jungkook comes home to Jimin in bed with a purple face mask and a book from the library, some historical romance.

He spots Jungkook lingering in the doorway and his eyes curl up. “TaeTae’s sleeping over at Yoongi-hyung’s. Wanna cuddle?”

“No.” Jungkook crosses the room and tumbles into bed. His head lands near Jimin’s thigh and Jimin combs his fingers through Jungkook’s damp hair.

“Smell like the pool. Feel better?”

Jungkook shakes his head, feeling potentially teary, but too wrung out to actually cry. Jimin hums and begins to read aloud to him, still dragging his nails along Jungkook’s scalp; but his voice turns to whale song in Jungkook’s ears and it calms his heart, makes his head shut down until he blinks his eyes open to the soft haze of blue morning light peeking in through the open curtains and Jimin’s easy breaths fluttering against the top of his head.

~~~

It took six years to get over Jimin.

They grew up together in a way. Their moms were college roommates and met up once or twice a year to rekindle the friendship and they brought along the kids because that’s just what moms do apparently. It became a family thing, and then a friend thing when Jimin moved closer to the coast and he and Jungkook went to high school together, and somewhere in there Jimin kind of became his first love.

Jimin was his first for a lot of things. First friend. First love. First kiss. First boyfriend. First (and last) handjob. First breakup. First roommate.

Jimin is Jungkook’s Person now, but it took six years to get over him. It took less than a year to get over Taehyung, though. Six months for Namjoon. One for Yoongi. There are others dotted in there, too, with even shorter recovery times.

Jungkook is used to falling in love, and he’s used to digging himself out of it. Whatever it is he feels for Hoseok won’t last. It never does.

~~~

“Jimin, how do you feel about Hoseok-hyung?”

Jimin doesn’t look up from his work table where he’s laying out his latest haul for a video when he says, “I love Hobi-hyung. He’s like, one of the best people in my life.”

“Yeah. Cool. Same.” Jungkook’s jaw tightens and he looks down to his hands.

“Yeah.” A pause and then, “There a reason you’re bringing him up?”

Jungkook swallows thickly. His tongue feels ten times too big in his mouth. “Would you date Hoseok-hyung?”

Jimin continues to arrange the products, then says in a thoughtful tone, “Probably not. We’ve got like a 90% in sexual and intimacy compatibility, but we’d have too much trouble communicating through issues since Hobi-hyung is pretty aloof. The stars just think we should remain friends.”

Hoseok is an enigma. When they first met, Jungkook thought he was untouchable. A lot of things that Jungkook isn’t, a lot of things Jungkook wants to be. Confident. Vibrant. Fun to be around. In a way that still stands, but Jimin’s right. Hoseok is carefree. He’s sweet and dreamy and is always there for everyone and is deathly allergic to talking about himself. Jimin calls him a textbook aquarius. Jungkook just thinks that he needs more hugs.

Jungkook wants to know what’s going on inside. Jungkook, who would eat several cockroaches before admitting he even has feelings, really wants to talk about feelings. To Hoseok. About Hoseok. All the time.

It’s been five months.

The pining hasn’t sated.

Jungkook’s getting worried.

He was afraid that Seokjin picked up on his feelings. That maybe the reason for him mentioning Hoseok yesterday is because Jungkook has lost his A game and let it slip somehow that Hoseok is one of his favorite people in the world and he wants to watch the entire Miyazaki discography with him in one sitting as they eat spicy ramen even though they’ve probably only hung out six times, all in group settings, and one of those instances ended up with him hiding in a semi-stranger’s bathroom with a mild panic attack.

“So do you think I should? You know…” Jimin looks up at him through the mirror and waits in that patient way of his until Jungkook can say more. “Maybe go on a date with Hoseok-hyung?”

Whatever Jimin expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

Jimin’s face shifts instantly into some unrecognizable emotion. He jerks around in his stool. “Did Hoseokie-hyung ask you out?”

“No, Jin-hyung did.”

“Jin-hyung asked you out?” Jimin asks in a strangled voice, his face clouding over.

Jungkook falls back into his bed. “No! Course not. Jin-hyung mentioned that I should go out with Hoseok-hyung.”

“Huh,” Jimin says, surprised.

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean, I just didn’t think you two were that close?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Huh.”

“Stop that,” Jungkook snaps, but there’s no malice behind it. “I’m serious here.”

Jungkook’s teeth grate against the skin of his inner cheek, but he tries not to bite down. The bed dips and Jimin gently bumps their shoulders together. Jungkook digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, overwhelmed by this conversation. Not a good sign.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Kook.” Jimin’s voice is soft, and when Jungkook peeks through his fingers, Jimin’s face is twisted in confusion. “Hobi-hyung is an amazing person, but he’s pretty flighty about relationships. And you kind of have a fairytale approach towards dating. I’d be worried that you might get hurt again.”

Jimin’s not really referring to their breakup. Their breakup was mutual. Understandable. Much needed if they wanted to continue being friends.

The guy Jungkook semi-dated a year later who thought he was broken? Not very healthy.

The guy Jungkook went on three dates with last fall who was actually following through on a bet? Jimin knows better than to bring that up.

“I don’t think I’m meant to be with someone.” Jimin looks at him, worried, and Jungkook covers his face again. “Maybe there is something wrong with me.”

“Fuck that,” Jimin says, instantly protective, wrapping a hand around Jungkook’s stomach to hold him tight. “You’re wonderful and we all adore you, and if you want to go on a date with Hoseokie-hyung, you know I’ll be there to iron your shirt and give you the most sultry smokey eye in my arsenal.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook mumbles and then curls on to his side. “I’ll think about it.”

~~~

Thinking about things is kind of Jungkook’s downfall. He tends to think about things until they’re exhausted, or he’s exhausted, or someone else is exhausted from hearing about it.

That’s the great thing about having a Kim Namjoon in your life, though.

“So I have a hypothetical situation.”

Namjoon startles at the sound of his voice but doesn’t look at all surprised that Jungkook just randomly sauntered up to his table on a Tuesday morning without any fanfare.

“Hello to you, too,” he grins, sleepy-eyed, and Jungkook flushes but steels himself to the fluff that is Namjoon freshly woken without caffeine in his system. His hair is a tufty blond mess, like a baby chick. “What’s the situation?”

Jungkook is twitchy over the idea of this conversation, but he’s been jittery for days and he’s tired of feeling like his torso is a string pulled too tight. Like he’s going to snap. “If you’ve liked someone for a long time,” Jungkook begins, and Namjoon crosses his hands over his stomach and nods, “but you don’t think they like you back, but people encourage you to ask them out, should you do it?”

Namjoon’s left eye narrows and he smirks. “Well this is a familiar situation.”

“Is that what happened with you and Seokjin-hyung?”

“No,” Namjoon barks in laughter. “Jin-hyung was pretty straight forward when he asked me out.”

“Then who—”

“Not important. Non-disclosable information. Jungkook.” Namjoon’s doing that thing where he really Looks at you and uses that voice like he’s talking someone down off an impossibly high life ledge. “You only live this life once. Does liking this person and keeping it a secret—Is it draining you in anyway?”

Jungkook’s feet are bouncing against the floor and he tries to sit still because he’s jostling the table. “Uhm, maybe? Wait, this is hypothetical.”

“Is it really.”

“Stop that, hyung.” Namjoon’s face just scrunches in a smile and Jungkook sighs through his nose. “Fine. It’s more like… So I get crushes really easily, but I never act on them? And I’m kind of curious what would happen if I just went for it, y’know?”

“Are you worried about the other person’s feelings in this situation?”

“Like hurting them?”

Namjoon hums. “Are you worried that you might be burdening them with your feelings?”

“Maybe. Yeah.”

“If someone came up to you and told you were adorable and that they’d like to take you on a date, what would you say?”

Jungkook blooms and shrivels at the same time. “Do I know this person?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’d be flattered? And if I liked them I’d probably say yes and if I didn’t I’d say thank you, but no?”

“Pretty simple, right?” Namjoon studies his face, then says gently, “Jungkook-ah, we’re both the all or nothing type. That transfers to our relationships, as well. But the best way to get over someone, if that’s your goal, is to ask them out. They’ll let you down gently, just like you would. Or they could surprise you and say yes. Being vulnerable is a frightening thing, but you’re not alone in that fear.”

There’s this little yank below Jungkook’s stomach, makes his breath catch. Namjoon tends to have that effect on him, even after all this time.

“Did that help at all?” Namjoon asks, leaning back in his seat to look at Jungkook.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just the actual doing it part is hard,” Jungkook mumbles.

“If you’re unsure of their feelings, quick and simple is usually the best way to go. Less strings attached.”

Jungkook nods, again and again again, trying to psyche himself up. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Worst he can do is say no. And he’s nice. He’d be nice letting me down.” Jungkook glances up for confirmation and Namjoon smiles kindly. “Yeah, it’ll be okay.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait long. He’s got Namjoon Energy flowing in him and he’s gonna do it. He’s going to ask out Hoseok and it’ll be fine. Hoseok’s just a person. Jungkook is a person. People ask out other people and the oceans don’t dry up if it goes wrong.

“Hoseok-hyung!” Hoseok flinches and spins on his heel. Jungkook takes a few steps forward so he can be seen better in the light from the studio window, and Jungkook thinks Hoseok brightens a little when he sees that it’s Jungkook calling out to him. “Hi. Uhm, hi, how are you?”

“I’m great!” God, he’s so handsome. Smiling so wide. So nice. “What’re you doing here? Jimin doesn’t work today.”

“Oh, I know. I was just, you know, passing through.” Hoseok continues to smile at him and Jungkook’s heart beats against the back of his throat. “Uhm, have you eaten? I mean, are you eating? Soon?”

Hoseok’s grin falters a little at the corners. “I’m actually meeting someone in a few minutes.”

“Cool, cool. Rad.” Jungkook’s insides are sinking by the second. Any moment his spleen is just going to splat against the sidewalk. “Well, maybe we could get dinner? Another time I mean?”

Hoseok’s eyes are wide but bright. His dimples ficker in the streetlight. “Yeah, sounds great.” He clears his throats and says more earnestly. “I’d like that.”

“Awesome. I’ll just head this way then.” Jungkook’s voice is too loud but he can’t help it, everything just blurting out. “Have a good time with your friend!”

Hoseok’s backs away, looking at him with happy eyes. “Thanks, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook watches him go, then presses one hand over his heart. That wasn’t terrible. No one died. Jungkook still has his internal organs. Hoseok seemed genuinely pleased by Jungkook’s attention. There’s verbal acknowledgment of a next time.

Except, here’s how next time goes:

“Oh.” Jungkook stumbles to a stop before he runs into a display case of organic teas. “Hi, Hoseok-hyung.”

Hoseok smiles so big Jungkook has to pinch his thigh to remind himself to breathe, which is much easier to forget than it should be.

“Hey, Jungkook-ah.” Hoseok’s wearing a white snapback that makes his ears stick out and it’s adorable. “How have you been?”

“Making it,” Jungkook shrugs, pretending that he’s a functioning adult and that this isn’t the first time he’s seen sunlight in three days. “Finals and all.”

“Yeah, remember those too well,” Hoseok laughs, a dimple flickering, and Jungkook’s heart keeps tripping.

It’s been a couple weeks since that night on the sidewalk, and while Jungkook has the excuse of exams and projects to cover how he hasn’t made an effort to ask Hoseok out again, he doesn’t want to keep pushing this off.

“Uhm, are you here with anyone?” Jungkook asks, glancing about, and Hoseok’s smile does that triangle thing, like Jungkook’s said something upsetting.

“I actually have to get back to work soon,” he says.

“That’s cool. Yeah, I should probably,” Jungkook vaguely gestures in the direction of his table. “Study. More.”

Hoseok’s smile has dimmed, but he gives Jungkook’s shoulder a pat on his way past. “See ya, Jungkook-ah.”

It takes Jungkook a few breaths to answer. “Yeah, bye, hyung.”

And then the next time:

“Hoseok-hyung, hi.”

Jungkook hasn’t seen Hoseok at this soup place before, but Hoseok grins and says, “Jungkook-ah. Good to see you,” then pulls him into this one-armed, sideways, squeeze thing and Jungkook warms alarmingly fast. When Hoseok steps away, he has the softest smile in existence on. “I missed you at Yoongi-hyung’s last week.”

“Yeah, I had an extra shift at the hotel,” Jungkook manages to say without actually hearing his voice. The blood is rushing through his ears too thick.

“Sucks.”

“I kind of like it,” Jungkook shrugs. “I get tipped well. The old ladies have awesome stories from when they were my age. There are a lot of service dogs. I met a goldendoodle yesterday. Did you know they’re hypoallergenic and the only service dogs allowed to work in hospitals?”

Jungkook flushes and feels himself falling into a cyclone of despair, but Hoseok just laughs, his whole face alive from it, and it clears the clump of embarrassment from Jungkook’s throat.

“You’re cute, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook smiles despite himself. “Uh, hyung, are you busy?”

“Now?” Hoseok checks the clock on his phone and frowns. “I have a one-on-one lesson in a half hour. Kind of need to head out soon.”

Jungkook side steps so he’s not blocking the line. “No worries. Next time?”

“Next time,” Hoseok smiles fondly, patting Jungkook’s arm on his way out of the restaurant.

And the time after that:

“Hey, hyung.” Jungkook spots Jimin down the hall, and Jimin does a 180 to hide behind a doorway to spy. Jungkook twists his fingers into the straps of his backpack. “Are you free this Saturday?”

“Heading home for the weekend,” Hoseok answers, fanning the hem of his shirt to get some air flow to his stomach. Jungkook must have just caught him after a class. “My mom’s been ragging on me to visit more.”

“Same,” Jungkook nods and tries not to deflate right there. “Well, have a safe trip.”

“Thanks, Jungkook-ah.”

And finally:

Jungkook’s fake smile is making his cheeks sting. “Hey, hyung. Got any plans Monday?”

Hoseok sighs and Jungkook grabs a folder off the floor where it fell without Hoseok noticing. “Thanks. And I’ve got class all day. We’ve got an instructor out on vacation.”

“Uhm, okay.” Jungkook needs to kills this conversation. He needs to escape. “Well, I should go and find Jimin.”

Hoseok just nods and pats his shoulder, his smile not quite reaching his eyes today. “It was nice to see you Jungkook-ah.”

“You too, hyung.”

And then Jungkook goes home to ferment on the couch for the next four hours, until Jimin finds him baking under six blankets with contraband barbecue chips, well into the ninth season of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and forces him to drink a kale smoothie and do a pilates workout with him.

~~~

Jungkook spots him tucked into a back corner of the coffee shop, clearly waiting for someone that is not Jungkook. “I hate you.”

“Love you, too, babe,” Seokjin grins with all his teeth, and it’s alarming how charming he can be at times. Jungkook tries to push past the searing, bubbling sensation in his chest and Seokjin must see the panic in his eyes because his face settles into something more intentional. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “Hoseok-hyung doesn’t like me,” then throws himself into the bench across from Seokjin with a petulant scowl. He immediately feels like a child, but is too ashamed of his existence to lift his head.

Seokjin doesn’t mind the theatrics, though, and he’s oddly serious when he asks, “He told you that?”

“No, I just—” Jungkook shakes his head, confused, not sure why he instigated this conversation when it just makes him feel sick. “I’ve tried to ask him out five times now and he just—he’s always busy.”

“That’s not congruent with him not liking you.”

“Just feels like a sign to stop trying. I’m gonna stop trying. Gonna get over,” a dismissive hand flap, “ this .”

“Wait.”  Seokjin’s eyes are different—not amused, but soft and serious. “Wait, you’ve been trying to ask out Hobi because you like him?”

Jungkook pitches forward to lay his forehead against the table.

“Shit. Shit, Kook, I didn’t realize you actually liked him,” Seokjin hisses. “You’ve got a school grade crush. Shit.”

“Not anymore. I’m over it. So over it.”

Neither of them say anything for awhile. Long enough that Namjoon shows up, apology stuttering to a halt when he takes one look at Jungkook’s pitiful, hunched form and then heads back to the front counter to order him a caramel hot chocolate.

Jungkook should just date Namjoon.

“Not a chance, sweet cheeks.” Seokjin leans over to flick his temple, pulling his attention away from Namjoon’s long and lean stature swaying by the display case. Jungkook tries to bite his finger and Seokjin flicks him again. “Kinky, but this neither the time nor place. Now, back to Hobi.”

Jungkook groans, hides his face in his hands.

“Hobi is just…” Seokjin takes the same tone as Jimin and Jungkook doesn’t like it, like they’re talking down about him, but the two of them do know him better. “Try one more time, Kook? Please?”

“Do not talk to him behind my back,” Jungkook says quietly, a little pouty. “That’s cheating fate.”

“Shut up. I won’t talk to him,” Seokjin huffs, pauses, says more gently, “ Just, trust me, try one more time. And maybe be super direct?”

“I have been direct.”

Seokjin clears his throat and says in a valiant attempt at a Busan dialect, “Jung Hoseok will you go on a date with me?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Did you try that? Yeah, didn’t think so. Try again, Kook.”

“ Fine .”

“Such a child,” Seokjin snips as Namjoon sets a cookie down in front of Jungkook. Jungkook wipes his nose and shoves half of it his mouth. Seokjin coos at him as Namjoon awkwardly pats Jungkook’s hair. “Proud of you.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of snickerdoodle. “Thanks. Both of you.”

~~~

“Hoseok-hyung.”

“Jungkook-ah!” Hoseok’s smile is warm and genuine. He seems brighter than the last time they spoke, a little less frazzled. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. You just missed Jimin.”

“Yeah, he’s waiting outside for me. I’m, uh,” Hoseok looks up from the floor where he’s stretching his calves and his eyes are curious. “Actually, I’m here for you.”

“Oh. I kind of have a thing after this…”

Jungkook is so mortified he can hardly speak.

“Got it,” he says, voice cracking a little.  “Yeah, no problem. Maybe next time?”

“Yeah.” A deep crease appears on Hoseok’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great. Dandy. Su-perb.” Jungkook’s fight or flight response has kicked in and he needs to flee, but the ground’s turned to wet cement and his feet are sinking into the earth. His hands are shaking so hard he has to stick them in his hoodie pockets.

So stupid, so stupid, he’s been so stupid .

It’s been so obvious. Jimin was right. Hoseok doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t want to hurt Jungkook’s feelings, and like an idiot, Jungkook’s just been pestering him to go on a date and Hoseok keeps having to make up reasons they can’t meet up. How did he not notice before, that Hoseok has been trying to let him down easy?

“Jungkook-ah? Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s mouth won’t move and Hoseok’s on his feet, hands hovering over his shoulders, afraid to touch. Jungkook tries to speak again but his lips are numb, his muscles are melting away.

Jungkook is dying.

It’s actually a panic attack, but you know, same thing.

Hoseok says something but it all sounds foreign, water in his ears. He’s leaving the room. Leaving Jungkook. Leaving Jungkook surrounded by walls of mirrors so he can just watch himself fall apart. Brain shutting down. Legs crumbling. Jungkook’s knees slam into the floor, but it doesn’t hurt, and his vision is wobbling and he doesn’t understand why until he recognizes the scrape of nails on his back, a tap tap tap that should be in time with his breaths except that Jungkook isn’t breathing.

He gasps like he’s breaking the surface of the water for the first time in a hundred meters.

“There we go. Come on, baby. Come on. Breathe with me.”

Jimins tapping. Jimin’s counting. Jungkook might be crying, but he feels like a dehydrated lump of fruit and can’t be bothered to care that he’s bawling on the floor of Jimin’s workspace and that Hoseok is watching from a couple yards away.

Hoseok is watching from a couple yards away.

“Jungkook, breathe or you’re gonna pass out.”

Jungkook takes a watery breath, and then another, and as soon as he’s out of respiratory distress, he abruptly stands. Jimin’s palm slips from under his shirt, his eyes weighed down with worry as Jungkook uses his sleeves to scrub at his face.

“Sorry.” Jungkook’s voice is weak and squeaky. “Sorry. ‘M fine. ‘M sorry.”

Jungkook is talking to his feet, but he knows Jimin is frowning because he hates when Jungkook apologizes over this. Hoseok looks unhappy, as well. Has the triangle mouth. Jungkook did almost just pass out on his floor, though.

Jungkook folds under both their stares and wipes his nose. “I’m fine. Sorry.” He tries to smile and it just makes him feel like crying again, so he gives Jimin’s shoulder a pat and then crosses the room, through the door, down the hall and outside the building where he wilts to the sidewalk.

With a hand pressed to his chest, Jungkook counts his breaths. He reaches seventy-four when Jimin stumbles out the entrance, looking around, shoulders hitting the floor when he catches sight of Jungkook curled up a few steps away.

“Hey, baby.”

Jungkook sniffles and Jimin tugs him up by the hand and doesn’t let him go until they’re back home where Jungkook shrivels up in bed to sleep for the next twelve hours.

~~~

Anxiety’s a bitch, and Jungkook’s brand of anxiety definitely takes the title of Queen Bitch.

It’s better. Sort of. Doesn’t feel like it lately but it is, compared to when Jungkook was fifteen and locked himself in the girl’s restroom on the third floor of the school building every other day because it smelled better than the boy’s and he liked the pastel pink walls instead of the seafoam green and his history class made him want to jump out a window.

Jimin was usually the one to find him, coax him out. Take him home. Lay in bed with him until his mind quieted enough to sleep.

So yeah. He’s better than that Jungkook. He has workout schedule. Eats his greens. His teachers know to pressure him to come to class. He goes to therapy every other week, even though they really only talk about movies and music and sports and occasionally what his stressors are and how to work through them. It’s nice. He’s got it under control.

Except when he doesn’t, and then his skin feels too tight for his bones and his heart ten times too heavy in his chest, like it’s just waiting to tumble out. Except when this monstrous thing called panic tries to claw its way up his throat, when there’s a fire around around his neck, when the floor feels like a trampoline underfoot and he’s going to collapse at any step.

Then it’s pretty bad.

Today is pretty bad.

Today, Jungkook goes to gym and only floats in the pool. He stops to buy a donut on his way back to the apartment. Then buys five more. Eats them all by himself. Considers throwing them up. He stands in front of the shower while it runs for ten minutes because it feels like too much effort to crawl in, stomach gurgling unhappily from all the sugar he just bulldozed down.

Jimin knocks on the bathroom door and Jungkook startles as it creaks open. Jimin takes one look at him and sighs, and Jungkook slumps at the sound.

“I’m making you eggs,” Jimin says, then points to the tub. “Get in. Use my body wash. You’ll feel better. You know you will.”

Knowing something and being capable of following through on it are two separate things, but Jungkook nods and strips off his damp clothes and crawls into the tub because he doesn’t want to stand anymore.

Jimin dries his hair for him after they eat mushroom and spinach omelettes, and then Jimin hands him a broom and asks him to sweep the kitchen.

Jungkook sweeps the kitchen. The living room. His bedroom. Jimin’s. The bathroom. He mops, too. And then he dusts. Puts on The Greatest Showman soundtrack and hums along to each song as he lint rolls the sofa and armchair. Then he starts a load of laundry for his sheets, and then Jimin’s, and then the towels.

The front door beeps and Jungkook looks up from his handiwork. He’s been knitting a scarf for Taehyung. They took a class together last month and Jungkook found that, instead of his mind wandering like the middle aged women in the shop who laughed and gossiped amongst themselves easily as their fingers flicked here and there, Jungkook has to put all his attention into not missing a stitch. He returns to the scarf without realizing it most of the time, when his hands need something to do.

(He says it’s for Taehyung but it’s actually close to eleven feet long and there’s no way anyone’s going to be able to wear it.)

“Brought dinner,” Jimin chimes as he glides into the kitchen with a plastic bag in tow, and Jungkook’s fingers falter and he looks through the balcony door to the twinkling nightscape of Seoul.

Last Jungkook checked into his surroundings, it was 10am and he was about to crawl into their linen closet to die.

But Jimin’s good to him that way. Knows when to push him. Knows how to make suggestions. Knows that self-care isn’t always binging Netflix and downing half a dozen sweets. Sometimes it’s eating peppers and washing clothes and watering the line of succulents in the window Taehyung left behind, now at home in the handmade pots Jungkook crafted in class last year.

“Want to talk about it?”

Jungkook doesn’t, but he needs to, so he tells Jimin that he feels like Frankenstein's monster this week. Like none of his limbs are his own and when people look at him they’re just waiting for him to burst into a frenzy or something. That he knows he shouldn’t be sorry over having an attack but he can’t help it. He can’t help anything. And that it wasn’t necessarily Hoseok’s rejections that pushed him over the edge, but they definitely didn’t help.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Jimin’s voice is soft and sweet. “About you being half in love with him? No. That you have an anxiety disorder? Yes.” Jungkook groans, low and long. Definitely monster like. Jimin says somewhat tentatively, “He actually guessed it.”

“Course he guessed it,” Jungkook mutters into a pillow cushion. “I was hyperventilating two feet away from him.”

“No, I mean like…” Jimin rubs small circles against Jungkook’s ankle bone. “Hoseokie-hyung has anxiety, too. He knew you were panicking and was sorry he didn’t know how to help. He told me it was okay to tell you, in case it helped you be less embarrassed.”

“Still embarrassed,” Jungkook mumbles.

“You’ll live. Thanks for cleaning.”

“Thanks for, y’know…” Jungkook doesn’t know how to encompass all that Jimin does. The casual way he cares for Jungkook. Helps him out of cycles without making him feel like there’s something wrong with him, that he has to be fixed.

Jimin just pats his foot, his leg, and then an extra hard slap on the butt before he rolls off the sofa. “Always here for you. Will you help me set up for a video in the morning?”

Jungkook sprawls out full length and watches Jimin head towards the hall. “Yup. What look are you doing?”

“Date night,” Jimin winks and blows a kiss his direction.

“I love your date looks,” Jungkook sighs. “You always look so pretty in a heavy lip.”

Jimin’s head snaps around the corner, eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you saying I’m not always pretty?”

“I’m saying that when you do a red lip it makes your mouth look like a strawberry.”

Jimin’s nose wrinkles and then his tongue swipes along his bottom lip. “Do you want to eat me, Jungkookie?”

“Ew. Gag,” Jungkook whines, tossing a pillow.

Jimin ducks out of the way with a giggle, his voice softening as he heads towards his room. “Brat! Thanks for calling my lips luscious, though!”

“I never said that!”

~~~

Jungkook doesn’t get over his feelings, but he does take a step back. Decides that he’ll give Hoseok some space, not that they were especially buddy buddy before Jungkook’s panic attack, anyway. He starts having Jimin meet him in the lower lobby whenever Jungkook brings him food and he switches up his routine at the coffee shop.

He and Jimin aren’t in desperate need for money. They  downsized the apartment after Taehyung moved out, and the revenue they bring in from ads off Jimin’s channel covers the cost of the lower rent. So Jungkook cuts his shifts at the hotel to only weekends and throws himself into schoolwork as his mid-term exams and projects begin to loom. Between all his digital classes and a couple fine art studios, Jungkook doesn’t have to pretend that he’s avoiding Hoseok because he’s basically avoiding everyone.

“Hey, kid.”

Jungkook’s bones leap from his body and he knocks his shoulder against the doorframe when he spins towards the voice, one hand reaching for the side pocket of his backpack where he keeps the pocket knife his dad gave him.

The voice registers in Jungkook’s mind the same moment the cloaked figure steps into the light from the neighboring store front’s neon sign. Yoongi watches Jungkook for a moment, a question in his eyes, and Jungkook’s fingers drop to find the hem of his shirt and he starts rubbing the smooth edge.

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook greets, glancing about, his heart still missing a few of its beats. “Where’s Tae-hyung?”

“Hanging out with another friend tonight.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Yoongi is still staring at him. It’s different, from the way Namjoon looks at people, yet somehow entirely the same. Both serious. Both gentle. But while Namjoon commands attention, Yoongi just simply asks for it.

Right now he’s asking Jungkook a lot of questions, all of which Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret.

“Walk with me, Jungkook.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response, just shoves his hands into his pants pockets and sets off towards the main road. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to follow because it’s Yoongi, because Yoongi’s never led him somewhere unsafe; because Yoongi is safe. Doesn’t make him feel scrutinized or judged. Doesn’t make Jungkook want to try to feel smaller.

“You’re mildly threatening right now, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook says, shortening his stride to match Yoongi’s casual pace.

Yoongi’s gaze flicks to him from the side. “Only mildly?”

Jungkook laughs, warms, feels a little sticky in the lingering, late-summer heat of the evening, but it’s a good kind of overheated. Like when he burrows in blankets on the living room floor or under the clothes rack of his closet. “You seem to forget I lived with Tae-hyung when you started dating. I know all about your ooey goey heart.”

Yoongi’s nose scrunches up but he doesn’t try to object, and Jungkook grins and curls his fingers into the straps of his backpacks as they walk. Yoongi doesn’t try for conversation, even though he must have a reason for asking Jungkook out; but the heaviness never looms and Jungkook remains firmly in his own skin as they approach a noodle shop.

They take a seat at one of the outdoor tables furthest from the entrance, order cold noodles and beer, and half-way through Jungkook’s second bowl Yoongi finally says, “You know I’m a straightforward person, Kook-ah. Joon says it gets me in trouble sometimes.”

“I like that you’re honest,” Jungkook says around a spoonful of broth, but he doesn’t say, You’re one of the few people in my life I trust because of it. You make my chest go quiet. I could sit with you for hours and not think a single, terrible thought.

Jungkook doesn’t have to say it because Yoongi already knows. That’s how he’s different from Namjoon, really. Because Namjoon is brilliant and has so many remarkable things to say but Yoongi...

Yoongi just seems to understand without all the words.

Jungkook struggles with words. A lot.

Yoongi hums a little in his throat, sets his chopsticks down to rest his hands in his lap. “Are you making time for people, Jungkook-ah?”

There’s this whirring sound picking up in Jungkook’s head and he tries to hush it, tries to squelch the panic before it grows too big because the panic shouldn’t be here, right now, with them.

“You know my deadlines are coming up. I’m-I’m busy,” Jungkook answers, unable to make eye contact.

Yoongi hums softly again.

“I’m not mentioning this to make you feel called out, or like you have to justify your actions, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi pauses, then says in that gentle way of his, “It’s good to be busy, people like us. Keeps our heads on track. Keeps things quiet. But falling back into old habits is easy, and sometimes those habits aren’t the best for us.”

“I’m not—I’m not avoiding anyone, hyung. I’ve just been busy.”

Yoongi allows the silence to stretch, and Jungkook feels like standing, like he needs to start pacing the room, the street, head home and crawl into the shower so his skin can melt from his body. Tonight Yoongi is being soft with him, but he’s also being difficult. Is backing Jungkook into a corner where he’ll talk because that’s what Yoongi does. He just sits there all soft and quiet and encouraging and makes you quote your mind.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, hyung.” Jungkook searches for a loose thread on the hem of his shirt and can’t find one, starts to buzz, continues to probe as his mouth opens and the words just spill. “I have school. I have school, and projects, and my professors keep saying I need to get an internship but that’s—that takes skill and talent and talking to people and I’m not—And I have things to do. Jimin is doing everything he loves in life and makes money for it and I work as a waiter and I feel bad because I like working as a waiter, it’s okay, everyone is nice, but I’m supposed to be doing more.”

It’s like a match has been dropped into a box of firecrackers. Jungkook’s going, going, going can’t stop, slaps a hand against his chest, over his heart, clutches at the skin there. “And why me? Why is it so weird that I’m busy? That I have plans? Tae-hyung was out all the time with you. He’s always somewhere. And Namjoon-hyung hates being still, being inside. And Hoseok-hyung—He’s always around, running around, meeting people. He’s everywhere. No one questions it, him. He-He gets to do all these things and no one treats him like he’s about to crack any moment and I’m just—”

Jungkook’s hands are shaking. The silence between them stretches on for a thousand years, and Jungkook will let it continue to linger for a millenium more because he didn’t mean to say all that and he doesn’t want to say more. Doesn’t want to finish his thought aloud.

Except Yoongi asks, “You’re just what, Jungkook-ah?” so sweet and tender that Jungkook feels himself snap, and he sucks in a breath so big he might as well be stealing all the air in the city.

“Except I’m just a waiter getting a degree I don’t know what I want to do with. Because I act like a crazy person. Because I am a crazy person. Because I’m just me,” Jungkook whispers to the stained tabletop. “I’m just Jungkook.”

Their waitress slips in then to bring them the bill, and Yoongi tucks his card into the holder and hands it back with a sincere thank you. He waits, again, until she returns with his card and the receipt to sign, and after Yoongi carefully places everything back into his bag, he turns to Jungkook with that honest stare of his.

“I really like the Jungkook sitting in front of me right now,” Yoongi states simply with a tiny shrug. “He’s kind. He makes me laugh. He cares deeply for people. He puts himself into everything he does. I’ve never met someone more hardworking.”

Jungkook hunches down. He’s dissolving in his seat. He didn’t want to be pitiful but that’s how it appeared and now Yoongi feels like he has to give out all these compliments to that Jungkook won’t completely fall apart in front of him.

“Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi doesn’t wait for Jungkook to look up because he probably knows that Jungkook can’t manage the movement right now. “Something my therapist talks about is subjectivity. That you might not be able to change the way someone views you, but you can change the way that view affects you. I think you’re incredible, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?” Jungkook nods, shakes his head, nods a little again. “What matters is how you view yourself. And that takes time. That takes training. That takes a lot of hard work to rewire the way you think.”

Jungkook’s fingers still. He closes his eyes. Breathes.

“You’re working hard. You’re doing so well, Jungkook-ah. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, knocking his foot out to meet Yoongi’s under the table. Yoongi taps him back.

~~~

Jungkook is better after that. Not that he’s better, as in, his brain has suddenly been swapped for one that is a little less frantic and doesn’t freak out when someone says they like his shirt because there’s no reason for someone to like his shirt, it’s just a black t-shirt, you know, and there’s a hole under the armpit and he’s worn it twice already this week?

No, Jungkook’s better, as in, he starts working on his projects with his bedroom door open so that Jimin can trickle in and out to talk or bring him snacks or remind him to shower.

He makes plans to meet up with Taehyung once a week outside the confines of their uniforms because, while Jungkook enjoys having a bathroom to himself, the apartment is a little quiet these days.

In his spare time, Namjoon agrees to keep up their English lessons, and Jungkook has a date with him in a couple weeks to grab coffee and catch up.

Jungkook doesn’t run into Hoseok anymore.

He stops avoiding the dance studio. And the coffee shop. The soup place down the block. The pancake stall next door. Jungkook returns to as much of a normal routine pre-Hoseok Feelings Discovery, but the bubbling, star of a man is nowhere to be found.

“Did you run into Hobi-hyung? He was just heading out,” Jimin asks when Jungkook stops by with a sandwich and a smoothie, and Jungkook frowns and answers no.

“Hoseokie was just here,” Seokjin tells him as Jungkook sets his backpack down on the floor and slides into the booth to steal a piece of his cranberry muffin. Seokjin slaps his hand. “Did you say hi?” And Jungkook just shakes his head because there was no sign of him on his way in.

“You just missed Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi tells him when Jungkook stops by the apartment to pick up Taehyung, and Jungkook tries not to frown as Taehyung plants a sloppy kiss against the crown of Yoongi’s head before looping his arm with Jungkook’s to guide him out into the hall.

It kind of feels like maybe he and Hoseok have switched places. Like maybe, just maybe, Hoseok is now the one who doesn’t want to be seen.

~~~

Jungkook doesn’t fail any of his exams. Not anywhere close. His advisor even notes that his approach towards his subject matter in his short films is inspiringly candid; that the way he depicts the world around him is emotionally stimulating and mature beyond his years. He recommends Jungkook apply for a spring position at a local photography studio that a friend of his runs. That he’ll even supply a recommendation letter.  

Jungkook gets a raise at work. Is allowed to control his schedule more. Decides that he likes talking to the older couples with history to share and when he gets to pet their dogs. It’s a nice job with nice people and it’s where he is for now and he’s going to make the most of it.

He takes a few days off before school work starts to pile up again to visit home. A week of dappled, country sun and ocean air. Four-wheeling with his brother and painting with his dad and grocery shopping with his mom. It’s good, time with family is always good, but he misses Seoul, and when he returns it’s to a small welcome back party consisting of cake for two and Jimin waiting on the sofa with a mass collection of their blankets and the latest Marvel release on DVD.

Another week of autumn goes by, and then another, and soon it’s been two months since Jungkook has last seen Jung Hoseok. Jungkook starts to wonder if he even exists anymore. If he just made up this beautiful man and his heart-shaped smile and the thoughtfully, spectacular way he makes everyone around him feel loved.

Two months has gone by and Jungkook thinks that this is it, he’s finally gotten over the Feelings. He’s finally moving forward. He’s finally moving on.

Which is why Jungkook doesn’t even think to check the call screen before he throws the front door open, greeting on his tongue sputtering to a choked halt when Hoseok blinks back at him.

“Oh,” Jungkook says, feeling his hands and his chest and his throat start to clam up. He wipes his palms against his thighs. “Hi. Hi, hyung.”

Hoseok is golden. Jungkook remembers him faintly glowing, his own mind filter always making him a little brighter than he actually is; but this Hoseok, after-summer Hoseok, is golden. Skin still warm and burnished from the sun even though autumn is settling in. The slightest flush that spreads up his high cheeks. His hair is darker than before and curls even more at the ends, and Jungkook thinks it’s probably socially unacceptable to reach out and tug on the loose wave that’s tipping past the others to rest in the center of Hoseok’s forehead.

Jungkook twists his hands together so they’re not tempted to stray, then realizes that they’ve both been standing in the doorway for almost half a minute now.

Hoseok hasn’t said anything.

“Hyung?” Jungkook tries again, and heat prickles up his neck the way Hoseok’s gaze seems to roam his face, taking Jungkook in like he’s seeing him for the first time. Jungkook’s hearts twists.

Oh. Oh shit.

“I, uhm,” Jungkook reaches up as if to wipe his face and remembers that’s not a good idea, won’t work, shouldn’t do. Drops his hand to his collarbones and presses into his sternum. “I was helping Jimin. With a video.”

Jungkook’s referring to his face. His very painted on face. Light pink lipstick. Tangerine eye. Lashes so heavy on his lids they might just flutter off on the next blink.

Hoseok is still looking and Jungkook wants to shrivel under that stare.

The last time they spoke, Hoseok was turning him down again and Jungkook had a panic attack in his workplace. Hoseok went from seeing Jungkook hyperventilating to wearing a full face of beauty guru makeup.

“Hyung, did you need something?”

Hoseok finally stirs, lifts his gaze from where he was staring at something on Jungkook’s face to finally meet his eye. He seems a little dazed, and Jungkook’s reminded of the first time they met, when Hoseok was just a crumpled form in the old living room, practically concussed.

“Jimin’s helping me review final applicants. Some new hires, for the studio,” Hoseok says. He clears his throat, which had gone a little pitchy, and gives his backpack a pat.

“Here?”

“Yeah, he said to come over around seven.”

Jungkook glances towards the kitchen microwave. “Well, it’s seven. Yup. Definitely seven.”  Jungkook feels dry and dusty even though Jimin used enough moisturizing primer to stop a drought. “Come in. Jimin’s just putting up his stuff.”

Hoseok steps in and shuffles out of his slides, and Jungkook leads him to living room. It’s smaller than the last one and they’re one chair less, but Jungkook likes that it feels more intimate, with their collection of mismatched lamps and Jungkook’s paintings and pottery dotting the space. All the plants Taehyung keeps bringing over to help purify the air, when really there just isn’t anymore room in his and Yoongi’s apartment.

Jungkook loves their living room.

Most days.

Definitely not right now.

Hoseok takes a seat at one end of the sofa, and Jungkook doesn’t want to follow because standing makes him feel like he has more control, some power. But he’s even more worried about seeming uptight, so he sinks into the armchair anyway. Feels exposed. Sits up straight. Feels too formal. Slouches back down.

He must look like some kind of wonky slinky that’s tipping down the stairs, up down up down, and Jungkook’s about to shrivel for good when Hoseok finally clears his throat and says, “Do you help him often?”

Jungkook blinks, all the words balling up his mouth so that he stumbles over them on their way out. “Yeah. I mean, kind of. As a model? Not really. Just when he wants to mix up application methods for different facial features. But I’m his video guy, so I help with recording and editing. And stuff.”

“That’s really cool, Jungkook-ah.” Hoseok smiles at him and his eyes curl prettily. “You look really nice. Pink is a good color on you.”

Delight rushes through Jungkook, stilting his breath. Jimin and Taehyung compliment him all the time, but that’s different. They’re different.

“Thanks, hyung. You look nice, too. I—” Jungkook hesitates. The light is dying outside and he fumbles for the switch of a nearby floor lamp. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

When Hoseok smiles, neither of his dimples peak out. “It has. I’m sorry for that. For disappearing.”

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

Hoseok’s smile wobbles before it retakes shape. “I actually did. Kind of had to…” He takes a deep breath. Jungkook stills, watching his chest rise, his throat work. “Had to figure some stuff out.”

“I get that,” Jungkook says, the words barging from his mouth, unplanned. Hoseok looks at him and Jungkook still doesn’t hesitate to say, “I do that. I was doing that too, actually.” Jungkook squeezes his hands until the skin over his knuckles feels as if it’s going to split, then looks up and asks softly, “Is it better now?”

Are you better now?

Hoseok’s face, for just a flickering moment, seems to melt into misery. But then he closes his eyes and breathes the way Jungkook does when the room feels too big to fill, and then he says in an even voice, “I’m still working on it. Eventually… I’ll be okay.”

Jungkook’s heart twists and he leans forward because he wants to take Hoseok’s hand. Wants to brush that stray curl away. Wants to make him laugh. Make him smile. Make him look like he’s not as alone in this moment as he thinks he is.

Footsteps patter down the hall, and Jimin’s head pokes in the same time he greets Hoseok with a cheery, “Hey, hyung! Thanks for waiting. We can just meet out here.” Jimin’s head whips over to where Jungkook is lingering on the edge of his seat. His mouth parts in surprise before he says,  “Jungkookie, you still have your face on?”

Jungkook presses a finger to his lips and comes away with coral residue, and when he stands, it’s quick and jittery and dark spots speckle his vision. He freezes for a moment and waits for them to pass, and Jimin’s smile is restrained when Jungkook looks to him, then Hoseok, who is now standing as well. “It was uhm, nice to see you, hyung.”

“I’ll probably still be here when you get done,” Hoseok grins, still no sign of a dimple, and Jungkook studies his face for so long that Hoseok’s neck actually starts to color. He fidgets from foot to foot.

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly with the smallest nod. “Okay. But still. It’s nice to see you, hyung.”

Jungkook spots the surprise cross Hoseok’s face; but then the corners of Hoseok’s mouth begin to curl upward, his face filling with warmth, and Jungkook hadn’t realized just how wrinkled he felt until a dimple peaks out and Jungkook’s chest rearranges itself into something that actually resembles the human anatomy and not some kind of crazed etch-a-sketch.

“You too, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook’s stomach churns and he nods sharply, resists the urge to leap over the coffee table and bolt out the door. Instead he manages a casual walk to the hall bathroom that Jimin uses and locks himself in for so long that surely Hoseok has left the premises. Jungkook removed his face. He showered. Conditioned. Shaved. Did the full, eight-step routine Jimin uses that he memorized a month into living together but doesn’t bother with on his own because it’s too extensive. He dries his hair, too, but doesn’t try to style it.

It’s an exhaustive self-care routine that even Jungkook is tired from by the time he finishes.

But there, on his sofa, drinking a Cola, is Hoseok.

Jimin, too, of course.

But Hoseok .

They’re both hovering over two files. There’s a large stack off to the left of the coffee table, maybe the rejections, because a much smaller pile waits on the right. Jungkook hovers in the doorway to the living room, not wanting to interrupt, so he makes a quick segway to the kitchen to grab a granola bar and eats it from behind the counter, occasionally glancing through the open portal in the wall to where he can watch Jimin and Hoseok semi-argue over whoever’s files are on the chopping block.

Hoseok’s face is animated but serious, eyes sparking at whatever Jimin’s saying to him. He keeps gesturing with his hands, then rubs them through his hair so it’s tucked behind his ears, only for the strands to fall back into place when he shifts a second later.

Jungkook’s having trouble thinking and looking at him at the same time, so he picks one, chooses not to think, and somehow two granola bars and a bottle and half of water later, Jungkook blinks and realizes that Hoseok is looking at him.

Jungkook smiles at him, still hazy in the head, and Hoseok’s eyes widen. His lips part as he touches his tongue to his bottom one.

“Hyung?”

Hoseok shakes his head, the softest upturn to his mouth, and returns to Jimin. Jungkook leans into the fridge and wonders if what just happens means that they’re okay. That they’ll be okay.

Wonders if the fact that his stomach isn’t in knots and his head isn’t whirling and twirling that maybe the Feelings really have passed.

Wonders if Hoseok smiles when he kisses someone.

Jungkook flees from the kitchen and already has his sneakers on when Jimin’s voice jostles him into stillness. “Jungkookie? You okay?”

“Heading to the gym,” Jungkook tells him without turning around, knowing that his voice, strained and squeaky, should be enough to let Jimin know that he’s on the verge of a meltdown.

Jimin gets it. “Alright, baby. Call if you need anything.”

Jungkook hums, yells out a quick “bye, hyungs”, and is racing down the exit stairwell before the apartment door has even clicked shut, his mind a constant strand of oh no, oh no, oh no, please no.

~~~

So, the Feelings are back. Or really, they never left.

But that’s fine. Jungkook’s been through worse. This’ll be fine. Things will be great. Jungkook has some of his shit together now, and it’s not like Hoseok is a part of his daily life or anything. They’ll keep this companionable distance thing going and then they’ll fade into that friendship softness that Jungkook still carries for all the people he’s felt this way over.

Things will be great.

“Hey, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook hums, finishes out the sentence he’s been working on for the photography internship he needs to submit soon, and pops out one of his earbuds.

Stills.

Feels his brain do that sputter thing radios do when they lose a connection. Pure static.

Hoseok grins at him and tugs out the chair beside Jungkook to sit. It’s been storming most of the afternoon, and Hoseok’s ball cap is speckled with water. A droplet his umbrella missed drips down the side of his neck into the collar of his sweater.

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook greets when too much time has passed. “Hi. What’s up? How are you?”

There’s a smile tugging at the corner of Hoseok’s lips. “I’m good. Saw you through the window and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Jungkook grins.

“Hi,” Hoseok echoes brightly. A dimple peaks out momentarily, and then Hoseok takes a drag of his green smoothie. “I also had a question for you.  A request, actually. You do Jiminie’s videos, right? Like helping to record, editing, all that jazz?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. My major emphasis is actually in film.”

“Oh, that’s really cool. Would you be interested in taking on some commission work?”

“In video?”

Hoseok nods this time. Jungkook notices that his leg is bouncing against the footrail. “Yeah. I’ve started a channel for the company, posting routines and stuff online. It’s been doing well, but we’re getting a following and I was looking into hiring a professional.”

Jungkook looks up with a crease in his forehead. “But I’m not a professional.”

“You’re starting your final year,” Hoseok winks, and Jungkook’s lungs melt. “You’re practically a pro. Just think on it, okay? Maybe we can talk logistics over coffee?”

Jungkook tries to keep his voice light, but his throat is doing this alarming thing where it decides to enclose on itself and he coughs instead.  Hoseok pats his back and it makes Jungkook wheeze out, “Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok bites his lip and looks at Jungkook with restless eyes. “Or dinner. If that fits your schedule better?”

“I’m. Yeah. I’m free. For coffee. Totally.” Holy heck, holy fudge, holy walnut . “When were you thinking?"

“Wanna do this Sunday morning? Eight o’clock, at the cafe?”

“Yeah. Great.

Hoseok pats his back again, only this time it’s something softer, a little slide of his palm rather than a pummel to break up whatever’s blocking his breath. Jungkook smiles at Hoseok, who smiles back, sharp and alive, and Jungkook sits in front of his laptop for the next half hour because he can’t remember half the Korean language and if he ever actually learned it.

Things. Will. Be. Great .

~~~

Things are not great.

They are. Mostly. Things are great because Hoseok is great. They meet for coffee on Sunday to figure out a shooting schedule, what kind of imagery he’s wanting to grab, what the hours would look like, what he’s able to pay. Hoseok has a vision, and Jungkook finds himself mid-chew on a blueberry muffin several times during the meeting because Hoseok is Hoseok, he’s always unapologetically himself, but this Hoseok is different from the buzzing, dreamy boy Jungkook has gotten to know. This Hoseok is calculated, serious, holds that edgy glimmer in his eye as he talks artistic direction and lighting and timing.

Hoseok, Jungkook discovers, really knows his shit.

Jungkook was aware of this already. He’s seen Hoseok around the studio. Knows that he runs half the place. Obviously he has to be equipped to manage a business and manages to do it well; but to be on the other side of the table and experiencing it first hand is overwhelming.

And then, when Jungkook comes in to record his first video, he quickly discovers that Hoseok is also fucking sexy.

“This was a bad idea,” Jungkook stage whispers to Jimin, who’s been hovering at his side since Jungkook first entered the studio to get set up.

He doesn’t have a lot of equipment, doesn’t really need it. Just his A9 and a Gorillapod, a stereo mic for later when they do the class recording so that he can pick up music over the speakers so that he doesn’t have to interpose it in editing . But for now it’s just the instructors’ turn, Hoseok and Jimin and a woman named Hawoon who’s the other co-owner of the studio. They’re all dressed in fashion streetwear, all look like they could kill a man, and as Jungkook found out fifteen minutes ago, they’re all ridiculously talented.

Jungkook knew this about Jimin, should have been prepared for two people who manage a dance studio to, you know, be good at dancing. But they’re good in a way that’s stunning, thrilling. Good in a way that Jungkook forgot that he was supposed to be recording the first time they did the run-through for the hip-hop choreo and then had to apologize and ask them to start over.

No one was angry at him. They all considered it a compliment. But Jungkook is still rattled from the mishap because he’s supposed to be a professional here. He’s getting paid for this.

Jimin’s quiet beside him and Jungkook knows he wants to say “I told you so” because Jimin did tell him this would be a bad idea the day Jungkook came home from the coffee shop and flipped out that Hoseok had asked him out.

(“On a date?”

“No, just like, out. It’s a business meeting. Very professional.”

“Uh-huh. Better not hear you wax poetic about his smile after it.”

“I’m over it. Over him. I’m a professional. There will be no waxing.”)

There was a lot of waxing.

Obviously the experience is great, but being in a position where Jungkook will be in constant, close proximity to the man of his dreams? Jimin knew that would be an issue. Jungkook knew that would be issue.

Yet here they still stand.

“You’re doing great,” Jimin says instead, reaching to pet the back of his head. Jungkook loosens under the touch as he finishes adjusting his settings, wanting to try shooting with some of the back lights off, and when he looks up, Hoseok is looking over Hawoon’s shoulder. Watching them.

Jungkook smiles at him and Hoseok gives him a grin that doesn’t even make his dimples flicker.

~~~

The video’s a hit. They get half a million views in the first week and the followers just keep piling in. Hoseok gets an influx in students wanting to sign up for classes, everyone from beginners to the advanced. They get a couple calls from sponsors, too, brands wanting them to wear clothes or jewelry or drink from a particular water bottle.

Obviously, Jungkook does another video.

And another.

And another.

Twice a week he records Hoseok or Hawoon’s or Jimin’s dancing, then their classes who copy their choreography. People start to recognize him there, greet him, the new teachers and students and other staff that milly around.

Jungkook was nervous, at first, taking on this job. Because he’s really not a professional and the thought of talking to people sometimes makes him twitchy. But the energy in the studio during filming, the breezy and relaxed way everyone speaks to each other, the laughter and the hollering that fills the space during a routine—Jungkook’s anxiety doesn’t have time to surface when he’s filming, and soon it’s not really surfacing anywhere at all.

“Jungkook-ah!” Hawoon shouts from the mirrors, and Jungkook looks up from where he’s been packing up his camera to see her shimmying her hips to Ariana’s crooning high notes blaring over the surround sound. She gestures to him with both arms. “Come dance with us!”

“Us” is her and another teacher and seven students from the advanced class who have more talent in their right kneecaps then Jungkook does in his whole body.

Usually Jungkook feels wrinkled and small around these types of people.

Usually Jungkook feels red hot horror prickle through his whole body at these kinds of invitations.

Usually Jungkook feels like he needs to put on more clothes, cover his body, find something to hide him, make him more invisible when people look at him like this.

Today, though, Jungkook grins, snaps his case closed, and skips over to where the others welcome him with a semi-circle as Thank U, Next cuts back to the beginning.

Today, Jungkook closes his eyes, allows the shimmery feeling of being surrounded by people he feels safe with fill him up until it’s brimming in his throat.

Today, Jungkook laughs as he follows along to the choreo he’s memorized after twelve takes of filming, throwing in exaggerated hip rolls and flirtatious hand gestures, giggling wildly when one of the male students pretends to have a heart attack when Jungkook winks his direction.

It’s only a few minutes, but Jungkook’s breathless and flushed by the time it’s over. A couple people pat him on the back, compliment his skills, and Jungkook waves them off with a smile and catches the reflection in the mirror of someone watching from the doorway.

Hoseok’s there, eyes wide open and alive, clearly in awe.

It’s a small thing, but Jungkook blooms under the attention, at the way Hoseok’s not even pretending not to stare. Like he wants Jungkook to know that he’s watching.

Jungkook swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and watches as Hoseok tracks the movement, lips parted.

“Hyung?” Jungkook calls, and Hoseok’s eyes snap up.

“Thanks for your help today, Kook,” he says, smile small, one foot out the door. “Same time next week, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for Jungkook’s acknowledgement. Just slips out quick and fleeting, leaving Jungkook bewildered, wondering if he’s done something wrong.

~~~

That’s how autumn passes for them. Jungkook shoots during the day and helps work the bar in the evenings. The hotel is quiet now that Taehyung and Yoongi have officially left, off to do greater things, and as Jungkook flutters between tables, he wonders if maybe he should leave, as well. He’s in his final year. His internship will start up soon. Hoseok pays him more than enough to quit, and because he’s credited as the director, he’s been getting calls from potential clients looking to hire him. Nothing too big, just other dance companies and minor bands looking for help on music videos.

Jungkook likes to think he’ll be able to keep up with it all but knows that he won’t. He decides he’ll put in his two weeks at the hotel his next shift. He turns down the dance studio’s requests because if feels like a conflict of interest but says yes to this female DJ who wants him to record one of her gigs next month.

Things are, surprisingly, going great.

Maybe that’s why, when Yugyeom from his screenwriting class asks him out on a date over Kakao, Jungkook doesn’t really hesitate to say yes.

It’s the way Yugyeom asks, too, how candid yet casual he is about it. How he says he’d like to take Jungkook out because he’s kind and cute and funny. That if they don’t mesh, that’s okay, he’d still like to be friends. That it’s okay if Jungkook says no, he just didn’t want to regret not taking the chance.

Jungkook understands that. Jungkook can respect that. Jungkook remembers the conversation he had with Namjoon all those months ago in the café.

So he says yes.

“You said yes?”

Taehyung’s on the floor, legs crossed and chin in hand, silently weighing the pros and cons of what Jungkook thinks are two pairs of identical black jeans.

(“One has slightly more thigh exposure, Kookie. How thotty do you want to appear tonight?”

“Not at all? It’s cold? Why?”)

Taehyung’s helping him pick out his outfit for the date. He has a filming session scheduled with Hoseok right up until he needs to leave to catch the train, so he’s just getting ready before to save time.

Jimin, in contrast, is filling the doorway of his bedroom, gaze clear and deep-set as he takes in Jungkook attempting to style his own hair.

Jungkook sets down the straightener and turns fully to face him. “I said yes. Should I not have?”

Jimin picks up on the tone, the one that signals Jungkook’s already halfway to crazed over this, and uncrosses his arms which Jungkook hadn’t realized were intimidating him until now.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Jungkook-ah.” Jimin steps over Taehyung’s wardrobe mine zone to pick up the straightener and help Jungkook curl his fringe the right direction. “I think it’s awesome you said yes. Yugyeom seems like a great kid. It’s just, you know…”

Jungkook narrows his eyes because he doesn’t know, that’s why he’s asking, but before the silence can grow too big, Taehyung huffs behind them.

“I think what Jiman-ah means is that we were all under the assumption you still had a heart-boner for Hobi-hyung.”

Jungkook tries to turn his head and Jimin grips the back of his neck to hold still. “You were not all—Who all thought that? How did you know that?”

“Everyone,” Taehyung singsongs, and Jungkook feel hysteria bubble in his throat. “And Jimin told me.”

“Everyone but Hoseok-hyung, of course,” Jimin corrects, patting his cheek, and sets down the straightener to reach for some hairspray. “And Tae tricked me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jungkook squeaks as Jimin arranges his hair. “I stopped pining, like, five weeks ago. It’s been at least a month and a half since I pined.”

Taehyung just hums thoughtfully from the floor and Jungkook throws a sock at him. “Stop pretending. You’re just going to put me in the one with most skin anyway.”

Taehyung hums again, louder this time, and goes for the more torn jeans, then turns his attention to four different button-ups, only one of which Jungkook owns.

“Please don’t put me in a tiger-printed blouse.”

“You’re so vanilla, Jungkookie.”

Jimin sighs. “That’s not how that term works, sweetheart.”

“I’m reclaiming it for my own.”

“Not how that works, either.”

The Hoseok conversation stops there because Jimin decides he wants to do Jungkook’s makeup and needs to concentrate and Taehyung and Jungkook get into an argument over whether Jungkook should wear open-back loafers or an almond-toe boot. Jungkook’s running late by the end of it because Jimin wanted to give him a smokey-eye when at most all he had time for was maybe some liner, but Hoseok texted him that it was fine and not to rush.

Jungkook rushes anyway, apologies spilling when he stumbles into studio. He quiets just as quick when he notices that Hoseok is the only one in the room.

“Is it just us?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok answers, standing fully from where he was stretching his calves. “Classes are over. Remember that solo choreo—”

Hoseok’s giving him that look again, the open-mouthed one, the one that makes Jungkook feel frightened but in the best way.

Jungkook slips off his coat as he heads to the mirrors, passing Hoseok as he goes, who for some reason is still just looking at him quietly.

“Solo song?” Jungkook urges when he starts unbuckling the straps of his camera bag, and Hoseok nods and weakly clears his throat.

“Yeah. We kind of talked about it a couple weeks ago. I just wanted to test some angles tonight.”

“Sounds great.” Jungkook finishes attaching his lens and stands. “Where do you want me?”

Hoseok seems to blank again. “Uhm. You’re the director. Just, whatever you think is best.”

Jungkook gestures for Hoseok to move to the center of the room, and Hoseok glides to where he’s told and lingers there as Jungkook adjusts some of his settings.

“You’re looking nice this evening.”

Jungkook flushes and continues to flip through the adjustments. “Thanks, hyung. I have a—I have a date, actually.”

Jungkook spares a glance up, and Hoseok is looking away from him, slowly popping and locking his limbs the way he does as a warm-up. “Oh, a date?” Jungkook warms and Hoseok’s gaze flicks to him. “Seem a little shy. Something special happening?”

Jungkook can’t believe he’s having this conversation with Hoseok of all people, but maybe that’s a good thing, being able to talk about romance with someone who you once had romantic feelings for.

“Yeah. Kind of. It’s, uhm…” Jungkook fumbles with the lense and is happy he has his neck strap on. “It’s with a boy. From class. We’re going to a movie.”

There’s stillness in front of him, and Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip and forces his eyes to lift and look at Hoseok. His reaction.

It’s not good.

“Hyung?”

Hoseok’s nostrils are flaring. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“A date? With a guy?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook drops his camera to his chest and Hoseok turns towards him. “Yeah, is there, is there something wrong with that?”

Hoseok stares at him for along moment, gaze flicking across his face, and Jungkook bites the soft spot of his cheek so hard the sting brings tears to his eyes.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” Hoseok finally snaps. “Yes there’s something wrong with that. Why would anyone ask you out? Why would you say yes?”

Jungkook’s brain is stuck. He blinks. Feels thin and brittle, like the slightest movement will make him crumble. Hoseok’s eyes have slimmed to slits.

“That’s…” Jungkook is speechless. Feels himself on a ledge, toes curling over the side, preparing to fall. “Hyung, that’s really mean.”

“Mean? I’m being mean? You’re the one going on dates with random guys. What was going through your mind when you said yes? Does Jimin know about this date?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, but a glob of hysteria is wedged in his throat, blocking the path, and he swallows thickly to get it down.

This is not how it was supposed to happen. Hoseok was never supposed to be one of them.

“Does it matter? And I was thinking," Jungkook bites, head throbbing, teeth clicking, “that a nice boy who likes me wants to spend time with me. Is that a problem, hyung?”

Hoseok laughs, a sickening sound. He rests his hands on his hips and paces a few steps and comes back to where he started, eyes on the verge of manic. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, yes that’s a problem.”

“Is this because it’s a boy?”

“What?”

“A boy,” Jungkook repeats. “Is the problem that I’m—That I’m gay?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes and laughs again bitterly. “Yes, Jungkook, obviously the problem here is that you’re into men. I’m disgusted by the very sight of you.” He turns and runs two hands through his hair to tuft it up. “Holy shit, I can’t believe this is happening.”

Jungkook can’t believe it either.

“Hyung, I get—” Jungkook mashes the palms of heels into his eyes until he sees spots. Breathes. Finds he can’t get anything down this time. He’s starting to spiral. “This must be very difficult for you, but this isn’t fair.”

“Not fair?” He hears Hoseok say, voice warbling. “Bull shit. What you’re doing is messed up, Jungkook. I can’t believe this, I thought I knew you better.”

Spiraling, spiraling, out of control. Control, control, Jungkook’s is supposed to control this.

The silence is screaming around them. Jungkook drops his hands, blinks up towards the ceiling. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t cry for him.

“I can’t believe I…” A sigh gusts out of Hoseok, and he turns without a glance back at Jungkook. “I’m done with this. You need to leave.”

Jungkook wants to crawl out of his skin. Tears roll down his face, dripping from his chin. His hands are trembling so bad he can’t buckle his case so he just picks it up in his arms, holds on as tight as he can, and scampers from the room with Hoseok’s back still to him.

He makes it three blocks before he collapses on a bus bench, crying so hard that a woman passing by stops to ask him if he needs help.

Jungkook shakes his head, snot dripping from his nose, and he just shakes and shakes and shakes until she leaves and then he tucks his knees up to his chest and sobs.

An unknown amount of time later, Jungkook wipes his face with some tissues he bought at a convenience store a few store fronts down from the bench. With his camera safely tucked away, he starts the trek back to the apartment. Wilts about halfway there and has to take a seat another bus stop.

“Jungkookie? What’s up, buttercup?”

Jungkook doesn’t remember tugging out his phone, pulling up the contact, but Seokjin’s warm voice swims in his ear and Jungkook hiccups as the sadness rolling around in his chest tries to crawl up his windpipe again.

“I just, uhm…” Jungkook shudders. Sniffs. “I just… Hyung, I just…”

“Jungkook-ah?”

“He yelled at me,” Jungkook says in a tinny, hoarse voice. “Said me going on a date with a boy was messed up. And-and asked why anyone would ever ask me out.”

Seokjin’s quiet on the line, but Jungkook can hear voices in the background, Yoongi and Namjoon maybe, voices too blurred to make out a topic.

“What the fuck?” Seokjin finally says.

Jungkook breaks.

“I like him so much, hyung,” Jungkook says through bursts of sobs. “I like him so much and I was trying so hard to get over him and he was so mean, hyung, he was so mean .”

“Kookie, Kook-ah, breathe. What do you mean he was mean to you? He yelled at you?”

Someone shouts in the background and Jungkook can taste salt water on his lips. “I know I’m not handsome like you or Jimin or Tae and Yoongi-hyung and Joon-hyung are so cool but I just—Hyung, he was so mean .”

“Hey, Kookie.” Seokjin’s voice is sweet and soft as he speaks. “Jungkook-ah, where are you?”

“On my way home.”

“Okay, good. That’s good. Did he try to hurt you, Jungkook?”

“What?” Jungkook drags his wrist under his nose to stop the snot. “Of course not. Hyung wouldn’t hurt me.”

There’s an aching pause between them, and then Seokjin says slowly, “We’re not talking about your date, are we.”

Jungkook quiets, looks up at the bruised evening sky and realizes, oh right. He has a date tonight.

“No,” Jungkook answers lowly.

“Who yelled at you, Jungkook?”

“Hoseok-hyung.”

There’s cursing on the line, definitely from Yoongi. Maybe Seokjin put him on speaker-phone. Maybe the others are just listening in. Everyone is now aware of the worst night of Jungkook’s life.

The knowledge doesn’t even make Jungkook’s insides curl. He’s just… Tired.

“I’m on my way over with Joon and Yoongi. We’ll figure this out, Jungkookie, okay?”

“He was so mean,” Jungkook whispers to the moon, just a transparent dot high overhead.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re going to figure this out. We’re heading out, now. Be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. Okay, hyung.”

“Text me when you get in,” Seokjin says, and then the phone goes dead, and it takes several more minutes for Jungkook to pick his bones off the bench and head home.

Jungkook’s scrubbed his face clear of bleeding makeup and crawled into a pair of sweats by the time the doorbell rings. He feels like a distant relative to a slug as he drags himself off the sofa. Misery makes his muscles ache, and it’s a wonder he doesn’t creak as he sludges over to open the front door for Seokjin.

Except it’s not Seokjin.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok snaps. “Don’t you have a date ?”

Jungkook stares at him, unseeing, so thrown he struggles to find words.

Hoseok doesn’t wait for him to respond and forces his way in. Jungkook steps out of his barrelling path before they collide. “I live here. I canceled. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Jimin. I need to talk to him because someone has to.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. “Is there something wrong with Jimin?”

Hoseok’s gaze flits over to him and he rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous.”

Jungkook shrinks at that, still surprised every time Hoseok looks at him with such disdain.

There’s a knock from behind him, and Jungkook wobbles as he turns and finds Seokjin and Namjoon and Yoongi lingering in the still open doorway to the hall. All three of them take one look at his decrepit, sluggish form and rush forward. All three of them come to an abrupt halt when they spot Hoseok hovering in the living room.

“Hobi,” Seokjin greets him, eyes skittering between him and Jungkook. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to talk to Jimin.”

Stillness settles around them, smothering, and Jungkook shuffles from foot to foot because he just wants to eat all the ice cream in the fridge that’s supposed to be for movie nights and then crawl into the bathtub and cry. Maybe multi-task and eat the ice cream while in the tub.

Namjoon sighs in a this great, big, burdened way and Jungkook feels tiny in the worst way when he steps into the room, a wall between Jungkook and Hoseok.

“Okay. Let’s talk. Hobi, mind telling us why you’re so upset?”

“Why am I the bad guy here?” Hoseok shrills. “Is no one else angry that he was going out with a guy tonight?”

“Why would we be upset about that,” Yoongi huffs, stepping in closer to Jungkook to take his hand. Yoongi squeezes his fingers tightly and Jungkook squeezes back.

Hoseok sputters a bit, gaze wild and fluttery as he takes in the group of them.  “Is everyone in on this but me?” he asks, voice pitchy. “Is this some kind of prank?”

There’s rustling from the doorway again, and Jungkook looks over to see Jimin and Taehyung toeing off their shoes, plastic bags in hand.

Taehyung looks around and says brightly, “Is there a party happening?” the same moment Jimin zeroes in on Jungkook walled in by his hyungs and says, “Jungkookie? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“This is so fucking messed up,” Hoseok grumbles, slipping off his beanie to tangle his fingers in his fringe.

This is so fucking messed up.

So fucking messed up.

You’re so fucking messed up, Jungkook. No one’s ever going to love you.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

All eyes turn to Jungkook, who has dragged his hand away from Yoongi and stepped out from behind them to be seen. He wants nothing more than to make like a bullet for the front door, but something hot and fierce inside of him is unfurling, clogging his limbs, sending his head into a haze as he steps towards Hoseok.

Jungkook’s not going to let a boy force him into hiding away. Not again.

“Why is it suddenly a problem that I want to go out with a boy?” Jungkook says, voice cracking, and his hand hits Hoseok’s chest with enough malice that Hoseok takes a stumbled step backwards. “Why me? Two of your best friends are gay, so why am I the only one who’s messed up?”

Hoseok, a moment ago so hot and ready to strike, stares at him, stunned. “Jungkook, that’s not—”

“I’m tired of this,” Jungkook says, his throat knotting up. “I’m tired of you . I’m tired of-of chasing after you, hyung. I said yes to a boy because I wanted to get over you, okay? But now I’m so happy you turned me down all those times I asked you out because if this is how you really are, a bigoted asshole,  then I don’t want you to be a part of my life in any way.”

There’s unwieldy confusion is Hoseok’s eyes as Jungkook steps away from him. “You—” Hoseok’s throat bobs as he swallows. “You asked me out?”

Jungkook blanches. “Is that all you got from that?”

Hoseok looks at him, looks behind to their group hovering quietly off to the side, then allows his gaze to rove Jungkook’s face again. “But you’re dating Jimin.”

Smothering silence starts to build, and Jungkook looks down and watches as Hoseok’s fingers twitch and dance along the seam of his shorts. He’s anxious. Jungkook’s not the only one toeing an edge here.

“We’re not,” Jungkook tells his jittery fingers.

“Excuse me?”

“You thought we were dating?” Jimin speaks up from behind.

Jungkook sucks in a breath. “How long have you thought that?”

“Since February?” Hoseok says tentatively. “Since you showed up to the studio to pick Jimin up and Jimin said ‘thanks sweetheart, I love you’?”

“I say that to everyone,” Jimin chirps. “I say that to you .”

“But you’re a total flirt. Jungkook’s…” Hosek gives his body a vague wave. “Well, Jungkook. ”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, still lost in the conversation. “I’ve asked you out six times and you thought I was dating Jimin?”

Hoseok gawks at him. “You tried to ask me out?”

“Six times. In two months.”

“You never—You never tried to ask me out.”

“Were we that bad?” Taehyung announces loudly to the room, eying Yoongi, who only shrugs unbothered.

“Not even close,” Seokjin sighs, then starts to gather them all up in his arms with various shrills of protest. “Alrighty, then. You guys,” Seokjin points between Hoseok and Jungkook with a furious finger, “have some shit to work out. Now, who wants to go out to dinner?”

“But Jungkookie—” Jimin starts, squirming to escape from behind Namjoon.

Seokjin cuts him off with a grin. “Sorry, let me rephrase. Everyone who is not named Jungkook or Hoseok, please join me outside or I’m going to start pulling receipts.”

“Like gift receipts?” Taehyung perks up.

“Like blackmail,” Namjoon corrects, who is still using sheer size to detain Jimin.

“Oh, I’m shameless,” Taehyung grins. “There’s no way hyung has any goods on me.”

Seokjin, who was slipping his sandals back on, flutters up at that. “Really now? Shall I pull up our chat from September seventeenth of this year? Two-thirty-eight in the morning?”

Taehyung’s expression is frozen in a smile of fear. “Yoongi-hyung, let’s go out.”

“What?”

Taehyung’s already pushing him towards the entry and squats to lift Yoongi’s feet and slide his shoes on for him. “Remember, our, uh. Remember when you were out of town for a week? And those texts I sent?” Yoongi’s neck starts to speckle red, all the way up to his ears. “Yeah, well, I might have accidentally sent them to Jin-hyung first.”

“Who wants some dinner, hyung is paying,” Yoongi says as he shuffles out the door with Taehyung in hand. Seokjin follows them out, followed by a still upset Jimin on the arm of a much more put-together Namjoon who’s smiles at them all the way up to shutting door.

Once they’ve left, Jungkook is suddenly overwhelmed by just how large and small the space is. He wants to put more distance between himself and Hoseok, but he doesn’t want to move and draw his attention, either. Not that he doesn’t already have it.

“Jungkook. Can you at least, like, turn in my general direction?”

Jungkook shuffles around but can’t bring himself to lift his head.

“Fuck, Jungkook. I’m not angry with you because you like boys. I’m angry, or was angry, because I thought you were cheating on Jimin.”

Jungkook’s head whips up, mouth agape. “What? We’re not even dating.”

“I’m aware of that now,” Hoseok shrugs. “A couple hours ago? Not so much.”

“So you…” Jungkook thinks back to the studio, every time at the studio, every moment they shared ever, and pieces start to slot together. “You saying all those things, that was because you thought I was hurting Jimin-hyung.”

“Yeah. I could never…” Hoseok closes his eyes, tips his head back as a sigh bursts out. “Kook, the last thing I ever wanted you to feel was like you couldn’t be safe with me or open with me, or like, like you thought I was disgusted by you. I swear, I was only angry because I thought you were cheating. I'm so sorry if I hurt you.”

Jungkook’s unraveling. His limbs feel too long, too heavy to stay attached to his body. He needs to sit down. Hoseok follows him to the sofa, where they both take opposite ends.

“Okay,” Jungkook nods and nods and nods, some kind of sentient bobblehead. “Okay.”

“Now. You’re not dating Jimin?”

“No. I mean, we are technically exes,” Jungkook answers, looking up just in time to catch Hoseok’s surprise. “We dated in high school, but he’s my best friend and we’re like, very platonic. Extremely platonic.”

“You’re not dating anyone,” Hoseok presses, one side of his mouth curling up, “and you’ve been trying to ask me out on a romantic date for weeks now.”

“Yes.”

“Ask me now.”

The butterfly wings that were tickling Jungkook’s ribs at the sight of that smile suddenly die out. “What?”

“Ask me again,” Hoseok says, laughing lightly. “Now.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Hoseok’s grin drops so fast it looks like it hurts. “What? No. Of course not.”

Jungkook reminds himself that this is the Hoseok he knows. Concerned, kind, a smile that could wipe out winter, deathly allergic to upsetting the people he cares about. Jungkook is one of those people. Jungkook is someone he wants to care about.

“Hoseok-hyung, do you want to get dinner with me this weekend?”

Hoseok looks ecstatic, but then there’s recognition flashing in his eyes and he sinks into the cushions. “Shit. Shit, I have a showcase for my elementary group Sunday and we have prep both nights.”

Jungkook’s chest is a tumble of emotions, spinning so fast he’s having trouble figuring out what they are.

He settles on mortification. It’s a favorite of his.

“This is just a joke to you now, isn’t it?” He cries, standing abruptly to head for the front door, then realizes this is his own house and adjusts his trajectory for his bedroom. He hears Hoseok stumble after him.

“No, Jungkook. Hold up a second—”

“No, fuck you,” Jungkook hisses. “I’ve been played with before and it’s not happening again.”

“Jungkook-ah. Jungkook, stop. Hey, I said wait.”

A hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him back, and then Hoseok has a hand on his hip, guiding him like he would a partner in a waltz, backing Jungkook up until his back rests against the wall.

“Let me go.”

“No,” Hoseok smirks, but his eyes are tight. “Listen to me. Jeon Jungkook, do you want to get breakfast with me tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Breakfast,” Hoseok says, and Jungkook’s having a hard time separating syllables because Hoseok is warm. Like he runs a few degrees hotter than the rest of them. And right now he’s tucked up into Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook’s slipping into a trance. “There’s a really good brunch place down the block. Maybe like 7am? I’ve got class pretty much nine to nine.”

“What?”

“ Jungkook.”

“No. No, I’m not.” Jungkook’s voice wobbles, usually a sign he’s about to panic, but his head and chest are oddly quiet. “No. What? Are you asking me out?”

“Yes. Because I would love to go on a date with you Jeon Jungkook.”

“But you… What?”

Hoseok laughs at him, squeaky and lovely, not at all piercing like it was earlier, when he was trying to hurt Jungkook. “Winter's really rough for me schedule wise with showcases, and we’re an instructor short since Jiyoung left, so I’ve been covering classes. My social life is pretty non-existent.”

“But you’re always meeting people?”

“Interviews. I have to hire three more people by the spring to meet my student/teacher ratio, thanks to you and the videos.”

Jungkook fights to get words out. “You. But you don’t like me?”

“Who said that?”

“Me?”

“Jungkookie, I’ve liked you since the moment you threw a bottle at my head.”

The silence stretches out forever.

Jungkook snaps.

“What? No!” Hoseok’s laughing into Jungkook’s shoulder and Jungkook wiggles because he needs to see Hoseok’s face. Hoseok leans into him further, so warm and weighted, like when Jimin lays on him after a bad attack. “You never acted like it!”

“Because I thought you were dating Jimin,” Hoseok chokes, the giggles bursting out of him. “Why would I make a move?”

“I stare! Longingly! All the time.” Hoseok laughs louder at this, like sunshine is exploding out of him, and Jungkook feels blinded by it. “And I asked you out multiple times! And you’re—You’re, you know, really handsome and funny and cool and who wouldn’t have a crush on you? I’ve been obvious!”

“Jungkookie, you stare at everyone. You’re zoned out half the time I’m around you. And you never directly stated that you want to go on a date. And, I repeat, I thought you were in an exclusive relationship.”

“Holy shit.”

“You’re so cute,” Hoseok chuckles, and Jungkook’s heart stops dead when Hoseok’s breath warms the side of his throat.

“‘m not cute.”

“You’re adorable and very hot,” Hoseok grins. Jungkook can feel the stretch of his lips, hear the uptilt of it in his voice. “Best of both worlds.”

Jungkook feels like he’s walking the deck of the Titanic as it sinks. The room is tilting on its side. “Uhm.”

“Hmmm?”

“You, uh, you can let go of me now,” Jungkook manages out softly.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Oh. That’s.” Jungkook flushes, feels like he just opened an oven door as the heat overwhelms him. “Oh.”

“So cute, Jungkookie. This okay?”

“Uhm. If I say no will you be upset?”

Hoseok moves away from him immediately. Not so much like he’s been sparked, needs to flee the area; just a casual step back, hands slipping from Jungkook’s skin. He stays close, though, a quiet comfort.  “Course not. Want you to be comfortable.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes fixed on Hoseok’s feet, where he’s bouncing heel, toe, heel, toe. “You, uh. I’m not experienced. I have no experience. Will that be a problem?”

“It’s not for me,” Hoseok replies. “ I do have a lot of experience, though. Does that bother you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hey.” Jungkook raises his head and Hoseok is smiling adorably at him. “I know I said breakfast, but are you free right now?”

“I mean, yeah?”

Hoseok jerks his chin towards the door. “Wanna maybe go catch that movie? Before it’s too late?”

A month ago, heck, even a few hours ago, Jungkook probably would have either swallowed the nerves and gone despite wanting to be small enough to crawl inside a matchbox, or he would have made up some unruly excuse as to why he couldn’t go out and deal with people and large spaces.

But this is Hoseok. Hoseok, who is dreamy, who looks at Jungkook with clear and open eyes. Who makes Jungkook feel giddy and lovely, like it’s okay to just be a bit vulnerable around him. To just hold still for a while.

“Uhm. Actually. Do you want to stay here?” Jungkook tap, tap, taps along his wrist and finally braves looking at Hoseok’s face again. He’s glowing, which only spurs Jungkook on. “I just… I’m kind of not in a social mood? And more of a Netflix and stuff my face with the fried chicken Jimin and Tae bought mood? But I still want to spend time with you? Do you want to stay?”

Hoseok has turned the lightest shade of pink, and when he smiles, eyes curling up, Jungkook is flooded with such incandescent warmth that he can’t help but return it.

“Yeah. I’d really like that.”

~~~

School starts up again. Jungkook no longer works at the hotel, which he’s kind of bummed over, but like, stubbed his toe bummed. His internship is only fifteen hours a week, and he usually gets his time in for a couple hours each morning before class and then a full workload on Saturdays. It’s not just an office job, like what he was worried about. He works directly with arranging clients, helps with setups and teardowns at shoots, learns editing and printing one-on-one with the staff there who all make him feel like this a career he might actually want to make his own.

Hoseok still has him shoot video for the studio. The YouTube channel has taken off. They’ve gotten two million followers over the course of the winter and enough student memberships that Hoseok’s talking to Hawoon about renting a new building with more space. Jimin’s now their lead teacher. They hire someone to handle finances and another person for paperwork because the last thing Hoseok wants to happen is to end up stuck in a back office somewhere and not on the floor with the kids.

Jungkook thinks that’s admirable. Thinks that Hoseok is strange and marvelous and that the way he looks at people is the way everyone should be looked at, like they’re important and valued. Thinks that the jiggly feeling in his stomach when Hoseok is around him is more because his body doesn’t know what to do with all the affection bumbling around inside and less to do with the deep sadness in his head that likes to remind him that things this lovely never last.

Jungkook wakes up at 3:42am with that smothering feeling curling inside, and he shuffles out of his room and down the hall to Jimin’s, not hesitating to crawl into bed with him.

“Mmhghh?”

Jungkook curls in close and Jimin, eyes puffy with sleep, reaches out blindly to stroke his hair.

“What if he suddenly realizes that I’m really messed up?” Jungkook whispers into the moon dark blue of the room. “Or worse. What if he realizes I’m just super unremarkable? That there’s nothing special about me? No reason to keep me around.”

Jimin folds him up in his arms and plants a misplaced peck on the bridge of his nose. “Then I know a place to hide the body.”

“Hyung.”

Jimin hears the catch in his voice and tugs him closer, voice groggy buy sincere as he speaks. “Namjoonie-hyung told me this the other day when I was having a hard time. That just as there are light parts of you, good parts, there’s also dark things, too. But those dark parts are just as important as the light, they make us who we are, and just as the sun sets and rises the next day, so does the night.”

“I love Joon-hyung,” Jungkook mumbles, and Jimin rubs their foreheads together with a giggle.

“Me too. But you get it, right? All the parts of you, you think are messy or boring are still you. And I love you the way you are, and I know that Hobi-hyung and everyone else does, too.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond to that, just shakes his head and tucks himself under Jimin’s chin. Jimin rubs his hands up and down his spine, singing softly, more melody than lyrics, and Jungkook closes his eyes and hums along until they both fall asleep.

~~~

“If it means anything,” Jimin states the next morning as they’re finishing off their cool down from their morning jog, “all those really nice things you think about Hobi-hyung? I think you should tell him. And all the worries you have? You should tell him those, too.”

Jungkook feels his heart beat against the back of his throat and ducks down to pretend to tie his sneaker. “Didn’t you say he’s allergic to Big Feelings Talks?”

A pause, and then Jimin’s hand squeezes the back of his neck and he says in a far-off voice, like he’s speaking more to himself than to Jungkook, “People can surprise you. There’s always going to be an exception for someone.”

~~~

Jungkook does tell Hoseok one morning, a week later, after Hoseok spends the night for the first time. They didn’t do anything, just snuggled in Jungkook’s bed and watched a couple movies and talked the dance studio and the internship and places in the world they want to visit and how Hoseok’s considering getting a dog.

Hoseok listens in that thoughtful way of his as Jungkook speaks to his pillow, quiet ‘till the end when he wraps Jungkook up in his arms and plants little, spastic kisses all over his face.

“Hyung!” Jungkook shrieks, trying to burrow under the covers to get away, and Hoseok just laughs and laughs and wriggles in after him.

Hoseok’s smile is shy when they finally still a few minutes later, breathless from the impromptu tickle-fight, and Hoseok bites his lip and runs a thumb along Jungkook’s cheekbone in such a tender move that Jungkook wants to shrink inside his sweater because of all the feelings it fills him with.

“I think about those things, too,” Hoseok murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. “I have doubts, too. But I also think that you are kind and sweet and wonderful and that I would really love to get that dog with you someday.”

It’s sudden, how fast Jungkook’s brain just swipes clean, and he moves forward, unable not to, whispering, “Can I? Can we?” and Hoseok is leaning in with a giggly, “Yes, yes, please—”, and Jungkook closes his eyes and kisses him, soft and warm. Hoseok doesn’t try to press in to him. Doesn’t ask for more. There isn’t anything desperate or rushed about it, and Jungkook never thought that falling could also feel like this; less like a sledgehammer taking to the inside of his rib cage and more like a star shining so bright from within it sends a shiver down his spine.

Jungkook learns that Hoseok does in fact smile when he kisses.

~~~

They have the next talk a week later. Because it’s a been a month since they started dating, and as much as Jimin tells him there’s nothing wrong with him, they both know that Jungkook needs to be open about this.

“There’s, uhm.” Jungkook takes a deep breath, exhales long and slow. “There’s something you should know. About me.”

Hoseok’s at the stove cooking dinner. They’re at his place tonight again, a kitschy studio apartment close to his work that’s always filled with light from the window that takes up the back wall of the main room. It’s small, which makes Jungkook feel small, but in the best way. In the safe kind of way.

There’s a little hum from him, and then Hoseok says kindly, “Is this about the anxiety?”

Jungkook’s whirring mind sputters to a halt. “No. Oh, wow. For once, no.”

Hoseok snorts at that, both of them smiling because they understand, and Jungkook curls his knees up under his chin and adjusts the blanket around his lap. “It’s, uh. I’m asexual.”

Hoseok glances over his shoulder but keeps sauteeing the vegetables. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Hoseok echoes. “Want to tell me more? Want to wait a little bit?”

“I—” Jungkook’s throat has gone all husky and weird and he clears it loudly. “You’re seriously okay? Right now?”

Hoseok flips off the heat and sets the pan to the side. When he turns, he’s smiling, and if Jungkook has learned anything in the past few months, it’s that his assumption that Hoseok is always a supernova incarnate was grossly misdirected. Jungkook sees Hoseok frowning more often than not, expression pinched tightly in so his worry dimples appear, always a little bit of sadness hidden in his face somewhere.

If there’s anything Jungkook’s learned about Jung Hoseok since dating him, it’s that moments like this, when Hoseok is looking at him with this soft, closed-mouthed grin—those are special moments just for them.

“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok says, leaning into the counter. “I’m not dating you to sleep with you. I’m dating you because I love you.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says. Drops his hands that were tugging at a hole in the edge of the blanket. “Oh. You love me?”

“I love you.”

Hoseok’s smile is so gloriously infectious Jungkook’s already beaming at him when he says, “I love you, too.”

Hoseok laughs, so light and lilting Jungkook gets caught on the sound. “So,” Hoseok claps, turning to pull the chicken from the oven. “Sex. What should I know?”

Jungkook’s never had this conversation with someone before, at least not like this. Candid and casual. Like Hoseok actually wants to know more. Make this work between them. That this isn’t a big deal even though it’s kind of a Big Deal.

A sigh gusts out of Jungkook’s chest, and with it goes the buzzing thoughts. “I don’t like it.”

“Wanna be more specific?”

“Jimin gave me a handjob when I sixteen and I threw up.”

The plates rattle a little as Hoseok accidentally drops the chicken breast on one too soon. “O-okay,” he sings, coughing lightly. “A little too specific.”

Jungkook curls in on himself and laughs, then taps his pinkie finger against the small, wooden coffee table. The table is new. The table is for Jungkook, even though Hoseok never said the table was for Jungkook. But after Jungkook started coming over more for dinners, he’s noticed a few things about the apartment that have been made to accommodate two people instead of one.

“I like kissing,” Jungkook tells his curling toes. “I really like kissing. I like touching? But not like—” Hoseok glances his way to let him know he’s still listening; not that Jungkook paused because he thought Hoseok wasn’t, just that it’s hard to find words, to say these words to him. “I want to touch you. All the time. I think I could even, like, give you a handjob? But I don’t want you to give me one. And I don’t think there will ever be sticking things in places.”

“Non-penetrative sex is a thing,” Hoseok nods, approaching with two plates of dinner. The tips of his ears are pink and Jungkook warms at the sight. Maybe Hoseok is just as embarrassed as he is. “Are there places I shouldn’t touch you?”

“Just… my dick? And the nearby vicinity? I like when you touch my tummy,” Jungkook adds on quieter, and Hoseok looks at him softly.

“Can I kiss your tummy?”

The earth’s core temperature just went up with the intensity of Jungkook’s blush. “I think that’s okay. I think I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

“You’re handling this very well.”

Hoseok plops into the space beside him, tucking one leg up so he can lean into the sofa to look at Jungkook as they eat. “It’s not like you just told me some life-altering situation. It’s sex. I don’t have to have it. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the end-all-be-all.”

Jungkook picks up his plate and uses the fork to push a pepper around. “I had a boyfriend. After Jimin. When I first moved here. He tried to… He wasn’t happy, when he found out I wouldn’t sleep with him.” Something sinister flashes across Hoseok’s face, and Jungkook reaches out to take his hand that’s resting on his knee and tangle their fingers together. Hoseok squeezes him tight. “I’m okay. Nothing happened. But I think about that a lot, when I’m with people, even just casually. That there might be something wrong with me.”

Hoseok hums again, low and quiet. His thumb traces along the side of Jungkook’s. “I think,” he says, giving Jungkook’s hand a little tug, “that you are beautiful, and strong, and that I really want to take a baseball bat to that douche’s balls.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, a little too happy about all those statements. Then he says thoughtlessly, “Jimin said that you were bad at relationships.”

“I am.” No excuses, no roundabouts. “It’s weird, though. Things are easy with you, but that just makes me try harder to make sure I don’t fuck this thing up. You’re special. You’re important.”

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and he pushes off his back legs and sets his plate down somewhere not in the vicinity of their limbs. Hoseok sees him coming and also moves his dinner out of the way just in time for Jungkook to crawl into his lap and take his face into his hands.

“Can I kiss you right now?” Jungkook asks, squishing his cheeks, and Hoseok laughs happily and nods, tugs him down by his hoodie strings and kisses him more deeply than the last few times, open-mouthed and warm. Jungkook must take him off-guard when he bites down on his lower lip because Hoseok shivers violently, bucks up into him and then sputters out an apology right after.

Jungkook leans back to look at him, now sitting on the top of Hoseok’s thighs, and only sees this whirlwind of sincerity and worry and kindness. Jungkook is so smothered with adoration that he has to bite back the grin that’s threatening to swallow his whole face.

“I’m so happy I met you,” Jungkook tells him, then places a kiss to the center of Hoseok's forehead, traces one of the wavy tendrils near his temple that always tease him.

“Love you, my bright, brave boy,” Hoseok says, bumping their noses together. “So happy you concussed me that morning.”

Jungkook’s brain flares. “You said you were fine!”

Hoseok draws him back in close with a grin, wrapping him up until he can press Jungkook’s face against his chest, so Jungkook can feels his rumbling laugh. “Nah. Was definitely concussed. Threw up when I got to work. Totally worth it, though.”

~~~

“I’m a miracle worker,” Seokjin announces when Hoseok returns to the table with Jungkook’s latte and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. Jungkook giggles and swats him away, and Hoseok just crawls into the seat beside him and slings an arm around his waist. “A love guru. I should take to the road, start doing conferences, write a book.”

“I didn’t know you could write, hyung.”

“I didn’t know you understood feelings, hyung.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at the two of them and makes the ‘I’m watching you’ fingers towards him while sipping on his boba. Jungkook fist bumps Hoseok under the table.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to finish swallowing his muffin whole and announces loudly, “Hyung, as a love guru, are you aware of your feelings for Jimin?”

The table stills. Jungkook glances between them all: Taehyung, who is as casual as can be in any potentially mortifying situation; Seokjin, who is currently trying to mimic a beetroot; Namjoon, who is uncharacteristically quiet and staring off at some focal point on the ceiling as if it holds the answers to man’s purpose on earth.

“What?” Seokjin blanches.

“Are you aware of Namjoon’s feelings for Jimin?” Taehyung continues, and Seokjin turns to Yoongi in a way that signals Can you please control your boyfriend? and Yoongi just shrugs. Smirks. Loudly drinks from his Americano straw. Taehyung continues unabashed. “Are you aware that both of you have feelings for Jimin?”

“We’re, uh.” Seokjin flits to Namjoon, who is now looking at him like there’s a question in there somewhere. “That’s none of your business.”

Taehyung smirks. Somehow manages to prop his legs on Yoongi’s lap without losing his feet. “Are you aware that Jiminie totally has a heart-boner for both of you, as well?”

“He does?” Seokjin squeaks. Jungkook watches Namjoon’s eyebrow raise. Just one. Like this is an incorrigible thought never before considered.  

“He’s been waiting for you guys to make a move for months now,” Hoseok interrupts, and Jungkook nudges his side because that’s supposed to be a secret. Jimin’s secret. But maybe it’s been more of a  group secret for a lot longer than he thought.

“He, uh,” Seokjin’s asking for Namjoon’s help again with his eyes and Namjoon just shrugs. “Did he say that?”

Taehyung shrugs. Yoongi shrugs. Jungkook and Hoseok both shrug.

Seokjin looks about on the brink of passing out with how red his cheeks are gone. He reaches into his cup and throws an ice cube into his mouth like he can sense the same thing.

“There he is.” Taehyung slams a hand on the table and Yoongi reaches to steady a standing flyer before it topples. Taehyung leans in close and starts whispering like this is suddenly a conspirating meeting. “Better go make a move now, hyungs. He was talking about going on a date this weekend with a guy who recognized him at a club last week.”

Namjoon’s on his feet without further prompting and crosses the cafe in a few easy strides to get to the front door where Jimin is still shedding his snow-coated layers. Jimin jumps a little at the sudden approach, but their whole table coos when Jimin’s smile makes his eyes squint prettily, like he’s looking into the sun. Jungkook understands. He still looks at Namjoon like that some days. Everyone does.

“Is he... actually doing it?”

“Hyung. Jin-hyung, Joon-hyung’s gesturing for you to go over there.”

“I can’t do that,” Seokjin says stiffly, hands curled against the edge of the table so tight his knuckles are white. “I’ve misplaced my feet.”

“I’ll carry you,” Jungkook gleams. “I can bench two-hundred. Want a fireman’s carry? Bridal style?”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t loosen his grip. “Is that some kind of pick-up line?”

“Is it? Did it work?”

A pause and then, “Maybe. A little.”

“Kinky. Knew you had a thing for me all those months ago.”

“Hyung,” Yoongi interrupts, now massaging Taehyung’s feet like it’s a normal thing to do in a social situation. “Joon’s about to drag your ass out of here. Better go.”

They all watch Seokjin detach himself from the table and shuffle across the shop to where Namjoon’s guided Jimin into an empty corner by the windows. It’s like movie-watching. Jungkook couldn’t stage a more cinematographic himself—dappled sunlight reflecting off the dust motes in the air,  the three of them leaning in towards each other, Jimin’s smile fading fast until whatever it is that Namjoon is telling him finally makes it through the insecurity that usually has Jimin’s heart in a vice. It’s like watching one of those fancy tea flowers bloom in water, the way his expression shifts from uncertainty to absolute joy.

“Did he say yes?” Hoseok asks.

Jimin’s nodding and Namjoon’s dimples are in full view and Seokjin looks like he wants to crawl into a subway grate and ferment so Jungkook thinks yeah, Jimin probably said yes.

“With two tall hotties giving him their full attention?” Taehyung whistles, long and slow. “This is one of Jimin’s fantasies. ‘Course he said yes.”

“I know we’ve kind of been joking about it the past few weeks,” Jungkook starts, chest clenching terribly as he watches Seokjin bashfully rub at the back of his neck when Jimin somehow manages to pull two grown men into his arms for a hug. “But I really do hope they work out.”

“They will,” Hoseok says, thumb rubbing soothing circles against Jungkook’s side. “Just look at Tae and Yoongi-hyung. Me and you. If we can make it work, so can they.”

“I resent that,” Yoongi responds, blank-faced.

Taehyung drags a hand through the back of Yoongi’s hair to fluff it up, then lifts Yoongi’s hand to kiss the inside of his wrist. “I don’t. We’re odd. It’s okay. I like us.”

Yoongi flushes at that but allows Taehyung to continue to play with his hair, and Jungkook feels Hoseok’s hand slip from his side as he leans in close.

“I like us, too,” Hoseok whispers against Jungkook’s ear, and Jungkook turns quick to peck him on the lips. It makes Hoseok laugh, caught by surprise, which makes Jungkook laugh.

Taehyung hums across from them. “Now there’s more competition for cutest couple.”

“Oh, please,” Jungkook says, flicking a straw wrapper his direction. “No one beats me and Hobi-hyung.”

“Buckle up bitches,” Jimin announces as he walks up to the table, somehow appearing both adorably small and grossly intimidating while hand in hand with two very endeared and embarrassed men. “If you think you can be more adorable than us, you’re delusional.”

“You have Jin-hyung on your team,” Jungkook says. “You’re automatically deducted twenty cute points because of his age.”

“You little shit!”

Jimin tugs Seokjin back before he can swat the back of Jungkook’s head, and then he says with an achingly sweet smile, “We get fifty points just for Namjoon’s dimples.”

Namjoon smiles as if to make a statement, and Jungkook glares and gestures over his shoulder. “Hobi-hyung’s dimples are wonderful. That means we get fifty points, too.”

“But we don’t have any dimples,” Taehyung whines. “This is rigged.”

Yoongi pats the back of his hand. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll get us points.”

“That’s illegal!” Jimin shrills.

“And impossible” Namjoon notes, “because this is a meta-physical competition, and we should honestly be careful that we’re not supporting the same issues that cause potential, negative, long-term impact on developing children’s psyche because of obsessive beauty-driven pursuits.”

Everyone stares at Namjoon for a long moment, and then Taehyung coughs up, “Okay. No competition. Whoever has Joon-hyung wins. Joonie-hyung, wanna join me and Yoongi-hyung? We’ll make it worth your time.”

Namjoon looks absolutely appalled and momentarily flattered before Seokjin has an arm around his and Jimin’s waists. “This discussion is over. Me and my boyfriend and my potential boyfriend because we still need to have that conversation in not a semi-public area are leaving now. As winners, mind you, because Jimin and I both have a hidden dimple each which means ya’ll are fucked. Good day, now.”

They wave goodbye, and soon after that Yoongi and Taehyung head out for the museum date they have planned, and then Jungkook slips to the other side of the table to spread out his work for a project for digital media while Hoseok reviews some documents for the studio, possibly some realty options. They don’t try to talk, don’t try to touch. They just work in comforting silence, a kind of quiet that Jungkook forgets exists sometimes outside of his moments with Jimin.

After he’s finished drafting his essay, Jungkook stretches with a groan, spreading his arms high until he hears the little cracks of his sternum popping. When he opens his eyes, Hoseok has his chin in hand, is looking straight ahead. Looking at Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook grins, shaking out his wrists. Hoseok simply smiles at him and Jungkook laughs louder, says again, “What? How long have you been staring at me?”

“A while,” Hoseok shrugs, watches him for a moment more, then says softer, “I really like us.”

Jungkook presses his lips together, heart tripping over itself, and finds Hoseok’s foot under the table. “Yeah, I really like us, too.”

~~~

The End.