Archive of Our Own

Sleep is something valued, something that should be valued and taken of, treasured like it’s the most important thing in life. Yoongi values his sleep. He values it like air to breathe and water to drink, values it incredibly. He has catered his bedroom to a space particularly centred around sleeping; his bed has the bounciest comforter he could find, the pillows the absolute perfect consistency to rest his head, and he made sure to invest in black-out blinds, the whole thing. 

Point proven, Yoongi cares about sleep. He cares about sleep a lot. 

And his friends understand that. It had long been established during their high school years that messages sent to Yoongi early in the morning were to be likely met with a grumbly voice memo of him explaining in great detail that he’s asleep and they better hope their messages didn’t wake him up. Always half-playful, they know they can call him in an emergency, but Yoongi’s life is… normal. There is very rarely an emergency that occurs and lasts long enough for all of them to need each one of them. 

So when his phone rings impossibly loud at around half past five in the morning, he is more surprised than angry to be honest. His head lifts rather abruptly from his mess of pillows and cushions, eyes barely cracked open, exhaustion weighing on his frame, and he groans, reaching for his phone that is practically screaming at him, shrieking and vibrating and informing him rather loudly that somebody needs his attention. 

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the caller ID when he answers the phone, instead just running a hand over a face and mumbling a very hoarse, “Hello?”

There is the slightest pause before a familiar voice filters through the speaker. “Hyung?” And it’s at that point he figures he knows it’s something serious, Jeongguk would never think to call him at this time unless there’s something wrong, unless there’s something that he needs so urgently. “Hyung, are you awake?”

He pulls himself up a little bit more, rubbing at his eyes to try and make himself wake up a little bit faster. “Yeah,” he manages. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

It’s been a while since he last spoke to Jeongguk, as in really spoke to him that wasn’t just a bit of banter in group chats or social media, something proper. Honestly, it feels like no matter how long he wracks his brain, he’ll never find an answer, or at least the answer he’s secretly hoping for. At the end of it all, it’s been so much longer than he could care to admit. Guilt seeps in at the same time the realization does, and he bites the skin of his inner cheek. 

“I need a favour,” Yoongi notices he sounds almost out of breath, he wonders just how much he’s needed help in the past with nobody to ask for it. The guilt hits deep. “Is there any way you could watch Jojo for me?”

Jojo. Jojo as in Jeon Jojo, as in Jeongguk’s four-year-old daughter… Yoongi pauses, blinking for a moment as he lets this new bout of information process. “Uh,” he starts, trying to find the words. “Yeah, yeah, of course, but why?” 

Jeongguk clears his throat, and it’s obvious already just how stressed out he is. Very faintly in the background, Yoongi can catch the sound of Jojo herself, asking for her father to pick her up, and there is a soft straining sound before her voice becomes louder; he can tell that Jeongguk ended up succumbing to her little voice, judging by the pause in conversation. “Hoseokie-hyung is sick, he can’t watch her today.”

Jung Hoseok, their shared friend and somebody who had become so akin to taking care of Jojo at this point that it became habit, daily routine for the two of them to be attached by the hip. For that to suddenly not happen is surely going to be a shock to everyone’s systems. Probably Jeongguk’s and Jojo’s the most. 

They’re big shoes to fill, shoes that Yoongi is pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to fill no matter how much he tries, the task ahead is certainly daunting, but let it be known that he rises to a challenge. Jojo’s cute, she’s the sweetest four-year-old that he’s come across, not that he’s come across many. The only problem is, as expected, the fact she’s an idol’s daughter, which means more than most would expect. Kindergarten isn’t an option, pre-K wasn’t an option, even nursery wasn’t an option, all because of the security risks and dangers it could bring to a little girl.

And Yoongi loves Jojo, cares for Jeongguk… but to have that weight on his shoulders so suddenly is enough to have his legs go weak and the colour drain from his face. It’s a responsibility that has astronomical consequences if he fucks up in any way, shape or form. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose before he nods, and it’s only a second after that he realises Jeongguk can’t actually see that non-verbal confirmation. “Of course, I’ll watch her. You don’t need to worry about that.”

There is a huge sigh of relief before there is almost a sheepish chuckle that sounds from his friend, one that echoes through the receiver and Yoongi finds that his own breath hitches in his throat. “Thank-you, thank-you so much, how quickly can you get here?”

Yoongi pulls his phone away from his ear to look at the time, trying to hold back the wince that threatens to take over his features as he does so. Still around half-past five. They’ve barely been on the phone a handful of minutes, hardly any time at all, and he tilts his head back. “Give me… ten minutes to get my shit together and get dressed.” On a quick thought, he picks at his shirt, bringing it to his nose and he cringes. “Shit, make it fifteen, I need to shower.”

“You can shower at mine, I don’t mind.”

This simple statement means more than can be explained. Since their high school years, after the two of them have grown from young boys to young men to full-grown adults, there was a certain distance that grew between the two of them, between all of them honestly. Practically indescribable but it has left the lot of them straining to remain close to one another, like all they’re attached by is string. String with not a lot of strength left in it. Doing this for Jeongguk will either strengthen that string or make it snap, and while Yoongi almost doesn’t want to tempt it, he also knows that he simply doesn’t have it in himself to deny a friend in need, no matter what their need is. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Yoongi speaks quietly as he pushes the comforter off his legs and stomach, swinging himself off his bed and stumbling for a moment as he tries to get himself up and ready to do the task that is set for him. “I’ll just grab my clothes then come over then, if that’s alright.” 

Jeongguk makes a quiet sound of confirmation before he very quickly gives a quick goodbye, one Yoongi reciprocates just as swiftly before he quickly places his phone on the bedside table. Outside of the blinds, beyond the curtains, the sky is still dark. Smothered in a certain nighttime darkness that cannot be seen through, cannot be changed. The sun would surely rise within the hour, colouring the clouds an array of pinks and oranges and light blues as the moon heads off to the other side of the world. The silence is stifling now, like hands wrapping around his throat, and he tries his best to keep himself together in one place, one train of thought maintained as opposed to derailed and pushed off of the edges, out of bounds, to the great unknown. 

He has to get dressed. He has to find something to get dressed in, he has to find the things he needs to keep himself going through the day, and he has certainly already made the decision to grab the largest fucking coffee he can before he heads off to the idol’s apartment; Yoongi is practically falling asleep where he stands, unable to keep his eyes open for more than a few long seconds. Swaying in place, rubbing his eyes. 

“Get it together,” he grumbles to himself, remembering who he is doing this for, why he is doing it in the first place. Taking care of Jojo shouldn’t be too difficult. She’s a sweet kid, with eyes like her father and that same bunny smile. It shouldn’t be too difficult, not in the long run, not entirely. 

It’ll be fine. It’ll be absolutely fine, and there’s nothing to worry about. He can just go home afterwards and move on. One day is not going to define the rest of his life, not this one, anyway. 

“Hobi Hobi,” Jeongguk’s daughter babbles, her hair in two neat plaits with the ends resting on her shoulders, her legs swinging as she sits on the kitchen counter, one of her father’s arms across her frame to prevent her from falling off at any time. In her hands is something sticky - honey, if one was to take a guess, especially judging by the way Jeongguk himself seems to be struggling to find something to clean her hands with. “Appa?”

“Hobi isn’t coming today,” he explains, his voice a little strained as he finally manages to grasp a pack of wipes from the lower kitchen drawer, huffing as he brings himself upright. “Hands, Jojo.”

“Why?” She asks; she had only recently hit the age of great philosophical discussion, asking why at every given opportunity. 

And Jeongguk, dressed for a long day of dance practices with his sweats half hanging off his frame, certainly a little flustered, his cheeks pink and his lips drawn together in a pout already, does not have the answers to the world, much to his daughter’s displeasure. 

Though it certainly does little to deter her from mimicking him, her wide eyes catching onto every subtle change of his expression and exaggerating it on her own features. It makes him chuckle fondly at least, making sure to carefully wipe her hands free of all of the honey. When he’s done, he makes sure to press a kiss to the centre of each of her palms, throwing the wipes away before he finally takes a breath. 

The company has its own floor dedicated for more of the leisure of its idols and employees, providing a small kitchen for quick meals that aren’t provided in their cafeteria. He didn’t know it would be so difficult to find something safe for kids to clean themselves with here; he wasn’t going to risk something if he didn’t know whether or not it was safe for her to use. The last thing he wanted was to give her a rash or cause any pain. 

Entertainment companies are not safe for kids. They’re not kid-friendly, she shouldn’t be here in the first place, and he just can’t wait for Yoongi to get here. 

It’s been a long time since he last saw his hyung. There were babysitters and nannies and other caretakers he could have asked - other friends also, if he was really so desperate - but honestly, maybe he was just using his problem as a way to spend time with Yoongi once again. 

Does that make him a bad person? Probably. There are worse things, though. 

“Hobi is sick,” Jeongguk answers, picking her up and placing her back down onto the floor, her hand immediately seeking to hold onto his own. “Yoongi-hyung is going to take care of you today.”

“Yoonie-hyung?” She asks, and he smiles again, shaking his head. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi-oppa.”

Her nose scrunches immediately, apparently rather displeased with this correction, not feeling that at all . “Yoonie-hyung.”

The incorrect honorifics is something she still struggles with, thoroughly confused as to why she can’t call people the same things her father calls them, and it’s at those times Jeongguk reckons that having her mother around would be more helpful, likely even more beneficial for her.

Oh, yes. Jeon Jeongguk is no stranger to the typical insecurities that come with being a parent, let alone a single parent. His life has never been simple, but he’s managed to make it work, and he figures Jojo’s upbringing hasn’t done her any harm thus far. She’s just bold and determined in what she knows, what’s so wrong about that?

“We’ll work on that later, hm?”

Jojo shakes her head, but she holds onto her father’s hand tightly, swinging on his arm the slightest bit. A silence settles between the two of them, and Jeongguk tries to hold back the temptation to slump in place, the weight of the world seemingly pushing him down onto the ground, through the earth, on and on and on again. He’s felt like this for a while, an underlying feeling that he just can’t quite get rid of. It simmers under his skin like boiling water, close to bubbling, close to exploding. 

He puts her as his priority, and he has no regrets in that. He can only hope that it’s enough, that’s all. With his heart in his throat, he walks down the halfway, the two members of the Jeon family walking hand in hand, on their way back to the rehearsal studio. 

One of the many places that Jojo finds incredibly boring. She had spent the first half hour dancing around with Jeongguk, playing and moving along to the music that resonates from all of the speakers in the room. Problem is her father couldn’t play around all day, and being still and quiet wasn’t really her thing. She likes games, she likes to play, she likes to be with her father, but even at the young age of four, Jeon Jojo had learned that it was near impossible to have everything she wants. 

Appa’s always busy - she knows because he’s always on the television for one - but sometimes she would like to spend time with him as opposed to… watching him. 

It’s bound to be hard for any kid to not be able to spend more time with their parents, but the kid of an idol almost has it harder. Is it more difficult to share your parents with all of their fans, or does the exposure of them everywhere make it easier?

Jojo doesn’t know, that question hasn’t come into her mind yet. It’s one that lives in Jeongguk’s head, though. It swims around and around like a fish in a bowl, never seeing a way out and never seeing an end. And yeah, having no answer to it sucks, but there’s not much else he can do about that right now. Getting through each day with everybody alright is the way to do it. 

“Appa,” Jojo begins to whine as they approach the door to the rehearsal room, having enjoyed spending time with her father like this, that to suddenly go back to silence is certainly not the most optimal result for her. 

Before he can respond, however, somebody calls his name, the sound of their voice ricocheting through the hallway and prompting him to turn his head to see who wants him, and to soon find out why. Jojo, as always, mimics this action from her father. 

The intern, a young man called Yeonjun, looks like he’s climbed every set of stairs to get here, his cheeks flushed and his lips pressed together as he tries to slowly take in breaths; Jeongguk gets that, sometimes gasping for air after running only makes you feel worse, particularly when people end up staring at you. His hand rests on his hip, his chest heaving despite the fact he’s trying his best to swallow that down. He points idly toward Jeongguk. “There’s someone waiting for you in the reception area… couldn’t get through to your phone.”

Oh. Yoongi. Jeongguk perks up a little bit more at that point before he turns to Jojo. “Yoongi is here.”

“Yoonie-hyung?” Jojo asks, tilting her head as she does so. 

Already catching on quick. Jeongguk nods as he tugs ever-so-gently on her hand, guiding her to walk next to him but careful enough not to make her rush or hurt her. “Let’s go see Yoonie-hyung.”

Oh great, now he’s saying it. 

They make their way to the elevator, Yeonjun in tow, and it doesn’t take them too long to get down to the ground floor, the reception area. It’s filled with windows, extremely well-lit and, well… Jeongguk always found it a bit too open. You wouldn’t need an expensive camera to picture anything that goes on in this entryway, but that was always the point, one of his managers had told him. By showing transparency, they had hoped the media would leave the artists and the directors and producers alone. 

As if. The media is like a pack of dogs. Wild ones with rabies. The ones that come out of childhood’s books as chasing the princess through the forest and into an empty, abandoned castle. 

No, wait, that’s wolves. And the Beauty and the Beast. He’s been watching way too much Disney too late at night. 

Yoongi stands there, waiting. Hands stuffed into the depths of his pockets, almost standing out like a sore thumb, considering the way everybody stares at him as they walk past. As expected, considering his history, and his very presence in this building will surely be enough to cause a stir. Fuck, Jeongguk hopes nobody from the outside catches onto this. Who knows how much chaos that would cause, and he really doesn’t need that in his life. 

Nor Jojo’s. Even Yoongi’s… 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk greets, exhaling slowly. “Thank-you for helping out.”

“I didn’t expect it to be so busy here this early,” Yoongi replies, and Jeongguk can’t help but notice how his voice has changed. A little deeper. Perhaps as the years have aged them both. “Hey, Jojo.”

“Yoonie-hyung.”

‘Yoonie’ blinks, slightly startled both at the small voice that pipes up, and the fact a little girl is calling him ‘hyung’, as well as the apparent nickname he has been blessed with. He looks up to Jeongguk, searching for some kind of answer, but when the idol only gives a sheepish smile and the slightest shrug of his shoulders, Yoongi knows to surrender soon enough. 

“That’s me,” he smiles, nodding his head at the one he will have to take care of today. At least that gets rid of all the awkward introductions, though perhaps some of the awkwardness remains. Quickly, he turns his attention back to Jeongguk. “Where should I take her?”

“Uh…” Shit, he hadn’t thought about that. “The park, your place, mine, anywhere.”

“Well, what’s her favourite?” Yoongi asks. “I don’t want to make her day miserable.”

Jeongguk chews on the inside of his cheek. It’s like his mind goes blank when trying to think of something in particular. “The park. She also really likes to watch movies.”

As his hyung nods, taking this information in, Jojo looks up at her father and pulls on his hand. “I’m going with Yoonie-hyung today? Not Hobi?”

“Not Hobi,” he confirms. “Yoonie-hyung will take care of you. I’ve known him for years. ”

Jojo gasps. “How many? ‘Undred?”

“Even longer than that,” Yoongi supplies, nodding his head almost solemnly, very easily playing into the game the two of them play. And Jojo, utterly amazed by this white lie, has eyes the size of dinner plates; it’s at that point, Yoongi properly notices the similarities between her and Jeongguk. 

Same eyes, same lips, dark hair, little freckles dotted around her skin. Definitely her father’s daughter.

“I think I have an idea,” Yoongi says, directed to the other adult in the situation. “Should we meet back at yours when you finish?” He hesitates, clearing his throat to fill the air. “I don’t want you driving to pick her up if you’re exhausted.”

Oh, Jeongguk inhales sharply. Yoongi must remember that he lives near to the company. Walking distance at the very least. The fact he’s keeping both his and Jojo’s safety in mind is enough to make his heart pick up, if only just a little bit. 

Old feelings are just that. Old. And Jeongguk isn’t sure if he’s willing to sacrifice everything he’s built back up over a high school crush that he just never quite got over. 

Jojo squirms in place, very swiftly growing bored having to stand between two adults that do little other than seemingly stare at one another, waiting for the other to speak. “Appa,” she says, attracting his attention, and that’s enough to pull Jeongguk out of this stupor, out of this ridiculous train of thought, and back onto the weird version of reality that has been established as his life. 

“Right,” he says, his voice soft at first before he bends down a little closer to Jojo’s level in order to speak to her. “Stay with Yoongi-hyung, and you do what he says today, ok? He’s like Hobi.”

Jojo nods, listening so intently to her father as he speaks. Her eyes fixate on his, making soft sounds of acknowledgement as he goes on. 

Yoongi, however, very quickly joins them down at her level, resting his forearms on his knees. “She’s smart, Gukkie, don’t even worry about it.”

It’s only with mild reluctance that Jeongguk nods. It’s not that he believes Jojo would cause trouble for his hyung - quite the opposite, he knows she’s as good as gold on a bad day, let alone a good one. He’s just… more nervous about what is it she’ll come out with when they’re on their own, when he can’t dive in at the last minute to save himself from total and absolute embarrassment. Kids pick up on things, and who knows what she’ll end up revealing about him. 

So he’s nervous. Only a little bit, only for whatever result this will bring, which he also thinks is… valid. 

After all, his high school best friend turned crush turned old friend with his daughter is bound to open up a bunch of secrets, perhaps some he himself is not even aware that he has. 

He doesn’t even know what runs through his own head at the moment. But he can trust Jojo. Like Yoongi says, she’s smart, and she’ll probably use this whole encounter to get her own way somehow. Not that he really blame her. 

Once again, with only the slightest bit of prompting this time around, Jeongguk slowly holds Jojo’s hand out - the one that had been clinging to Jeongguk’s own so determinedly - and offers it to Yoongi. It’s when Jojo doesn’t resist or fight it at all, but rather waits for her ‘hyung’ to hold her hand that Yoongi does as he’s told. Right on cue, he takes her hand, and Jojo shuffles over to stand next to him instead. 

When Jeongguk looks to them, the sight is almost too much for him to handle. Like the strangest combination of nostalgia and the sight of seeing his daughter, his kid, with the person he looked up to for years, with his long-term role model, he doesn’t know how to explain it. It’s just something he knows he would like to see again. 

“Jeongguk!” Someone else calls his name, someone else wanting his attention, pulling him away from the two people in front of him again. 

“I have to go,” he takes a step back. “Jojo, be good!”

“I will, appa,” she answers, waving to Jeongguk as he retreats back to the elevator. 

As he turns back, looks to the reception area once again before he presses the button to go back upstairs, he sees Yoongi smiling as Jojo chats animatedly to him, swinging their hands between them. And all that worry from before goes in an instant. 

Yoongi has taken care of kids before. Cousins at family events, watching his neighbour’s son while she went to the grocery store early in the morning, it’s not something he’s completely unknowledgeable in, but that doesn’t mean he’s not the slightest bit nervous. 

Jeon Jojo is more than just any kid. She’s the kid of Jeongguk, a once close and dear friend. She’s somebody who is already important to him, and she’s also somebody he never got to know. 

After Jeongguk became an idol, a lot changed between them. Almost too much to list off properly. But the lack of time spent together is no doubt the largest contributing factor; adults get busy, people grow up and suddenly have things to do, errands to do, something that cannot be avoided as age plays a part. As you grow up. 

He… Yoongi doesn’t remember growing up. He doesn’t remember when he suddenly had to be responsible for himself, he doesn’t remember that transition from his parents phoning the doctor when he was sick to when he had to do it, he doesn’t remember when he went from child to adult, perhaps because it was never a straight line that had to be crossed. Blurred, messed up, hazy. Uncontrollable. Uncontainable. 

Being with Jojo now, seeing her so neatly eat gim-gui at the table, kicking her legs as they hover above the ground, utterly focused on the food she consumes and the television show that plays in front of her. Entranced, almost, leaving Yoongi to do the dishes in what is likely only a few moments of peace. 

Saying that as if he’s hated the whole day. if anything, it’s been the entire opposite. He’s had fun, more fun than he would really admit spending time with a kid, indulging in childhood whims and whiles, watching classic Disney cartoons that remind him of being curled up in front of the television with a blanket around him, trying to smother the shining light of the screen. The same music, the same themes, the same voices. 

Nostalgia really is a funny thing. He didn’t know it would have him feeling so sentimental, missing the days where he would be like this so easily, without the slightest stress in the world. 

Jojo hums as she folds another gim-gui into her mouth, eyes utterly transfixed on the screen in front of her. As Yoongi finishes up the dishes, the evening settling so comfortably over them that it feels almost natural, normal, like this is the way it is supposed to be. It feels better. It feels like coming home. 

“You doing ok, bunny?” He asks, looking over his shoulders as he puts the few dishes left away, shutting the cupboards quietly so as to not startle her. When she hums even more in response, he smiles. “Jeongguk-- Appa, Appa should be home soon.”

“Appa,” she replies, looking up at Yoongi. “I miss him today.”

“You miss him, huh?” Yoongi smiles, patting her head gently. “I’m sure he misses you too.”

Jojo grins up at him, her smile almost exactly like her father’s, reminding him so intently of the kid he once knew. “Whenever Appa comes home, he always kisses me here,” she taps the middle of her forehead. “And he tells me he miss me, and then we watch cartoons until we go to sleep.”

Yoongi pauses. And his heart aches just a bit, just the slightest bit. He figures Jeongguk must be so tired when he comes home, and taking care of a four-year-old - almost five, he’s been corrected - is no easy task, let alone for somebody with such little time for themselves in the first place. Honestly, it amazes him that he manages to do all of it in the first place. Hearing these stories, hearing about what Jeongguk is like off screen and off stage, reminds him so prominently of his time with Jeongguk himself. 

Remembering when they would skip school in his final year to stand on the roof of their apartment building, heads tilted up to the sky and taking in the sun, the breeze, fingers brushing as their arms spread out on either side of them. Tempted to touch further, to intertwine and press their palms together. A feeling that remains in the past, an emotion that remains stuck on that roof, never coming down. Feelings grow old, emotions end, everything is temporary. Yoongi isn’t sure… if he would take his hand, not now anyway. 

Back then, he could have. It wouldn’t have taken him much courage, but it’s still the courage that he needed. Needs. Never got to have. 

And then Jojo arrived, the priority in Jeongguk’s life - as she should be - and they simply grew apart. Not as close as they were. 

“Yoonie-hyung,” Jojo calls, trying to get his attention; Yoongi turns back to look at her as she holds out her bowl. “Finished.”

“All full?” He asks, taking it from her, and she nods in response. “Appa shouldn’t be too long now.”

Jojo nods, climbing down from her chair, pencils and crayons in her hands. Each movement is accompanied by the tiniest huff for breath, and when socked feet finally reach the ground, she grins to herself, beaming. Bunny teeth and all - he idly wonders whether or not that same look will remain as she grows up, or if she will end up looking more like her mother as the years pass. 

Yoongi doesn’t even know her mother. How weird is that… Maybe it’s just a sign of how little they know one another now. 

It feels weird. This feels weird, like he’s missing something. The problem is, he just doesn’t know how to explain it. He isn’t sure how to explain the way that this is making him feel, spending this time with Jojo, and through extension, Jeongguk himself. Like ripping a bandaid off a wound before it’s fully healed, ruining the process and making it start all over again. 

But it’s not Jeongguk that Yoongi has to heal from. 

The door shuts in the distance, the sound itself joined with huffs of breath and deep pants, signifiers to Yoongi that Jeongguk is not only home, but that his hypothesis in the first place was certainly correct. He even sounds exhausted from this distance, he can only imagine what his schedule must be like… and how hard they make him work. 

It’s unfair to say it like that. Yoongi knows as well as anyone that Jeongguk loves working, loves his job, loves so much about it that he can’t even put it into words. That much is evident by the way he pours his heart in his songs, his whole body into his dances, the way he looks at everyone like he’s on stage. Surely a life like that means sacrifices, though. It’s why Yoongi left the entertainment industry in the first place. 

“Jeongguk?” He calls, receiving only a noise in response, but Jojo visibly brightens at what must be a familiar sound. Immediately the pencils are thrown back onto the table and she sprints out of the kitchen and down the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her, a long call for her ‘appa’ echoing after her. Yoongi doesn’t move to join them, but he hears the way Jeongguk’s persona practically changes on the spot, the sound of laughter so far away but warming his heart at the same time. 

He could get used to this, some sort of domestic life, feeling like he belongs here. It’s so dissimilar to everything he’s ever felt before. 

A wish for Yoongi typically remains as a wish, never having the chance to go after what he wants, or never wanting to go out of his comfort zone, taking the risk. He doesn’t like them. He would rather keep what he has than risk everything to just get a little bit more. Is that so wrong of him? 

Clearly so, he believes, or else he wouldn’t be questioning it in the first place. That’s how it works, right?

Jeongguk walks in, Jojo on his hip, looking like he’s run a marathon in merely a few minutes. His hair is pulled back into the tiniest bun, his frame seemingly sags as he walks, his feet dragging, the dark circles under his eyes are something he cannot help but take notice of. 

“Hi, hyung,” he even sounds out of breath.

“Hey, Gukkie,” he whispers back, pressing his lips together. “How was… work?”

“Tiring,” he laughs a little, his nose scrunching as Jojo rubs their cheeks together, her typical way of greeting her father after work. “Thank-you for taking care of Jojo. Did she behave?”

“Good as gold,” Yoongi admits, leaning against the counter, the edge digging into his lower back; it hurts just a little, but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. Suffering in silence is the way to go. “I’ll get out of your hair soon, and go home--”

“No.”

The sudden outburst is not from Jeongguk, as he would have expected, but rather from the girl on his hip. Jojo is frowning. It’s such a deep frown that looks so out of place on a kid. Her brows are furrowed, her lips pouting, and there is certainly a good attempt at her crossing her arms. 

Yoongi blinks, and looks to Jeongguk, who looks equally confused. “What do you mean ‘no’, kiddo?”

“Yoonie-hyung can’t go, ” she strains on the vowel. “He has to stay.”

“He can’t stay, silly,” Jeongguk tucks her hair behind her hair, trying to soothe the temper tantrum before it happens. “Yoongi-hyung has his own home and his own bed, we don’t want to make him go out of his way any more today.”

And Yoongi, well… he’s honestly tempted to agree. Nothing sounds better than his bed now, considering how early he woke up, but there is something else tugging on his heart strings, something telling him to open his mouth before it’s too late.

“Hey,” he starts, drawing the attention of both the idol and his daughter. “You look exhausted. How about I get her ready for bed while you wash up and sort yourself out, hm?”

There is a pause, and for the split second, he wonders if he’s gone over a boundary. Crossed a line and basically invited himself to stay even longer, despite the fact it’s more than likely he’s outstayed his welcome in the first place. He should take it back, he should say something to save them both from his awkward situation, anything that doesn’t wreck whatever remains of a friendship he had with him--

“Are you sure?”

Jeongguk sounds young for a moment, like he’s still the kid Yoongi grew up with. His eyes are round, and honestly, so are Jojo’s, the two of them looking more related now that he can see them side-by-side. Certainly more than he would have expected, at least, but he can’t ignore the way his heart seemingly swells. 

He nods, and Jeongguk looks so relieved, so happy to be given a moment to himself that he hugs Jojo closer for a moment. 

At least, that’s what Yoongi thinks is the reasoning. He can’t say for sure. Not really. 

Besides, Jeongguk’s apartment is what you would expect from somebody who earns a shit-ton of money. It’s spacious and clean and smothered in aspects that remind Yoongi of his friend so intensely. 

“Thank-you so much, hyung,” Jeongguk speaks as he exhales, his voice all breathy as he does so. Unable to stop it. “I owe you big time.”

“We’re friends, Jeongguk,” Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s what friends are for.”

Jeongguk takes the time to smile at him before he looks at Jojo, once again taking one of her hands into his own and pressing his lips to her palm. “How about you go find your pyjamas and then Yoongi-hyung, Jojo and Appa can all watch a movie before you go to sleep, ok?”

Jojo, content that she has certainly gotten her own way like it’s some novelty and not a daily occurrence, nods her head immediately. Yoongi clears his throat, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I can order some pizza if you want? You must be hungry.”

“Starving,” Jeongguk admits with a sheepish chuckle, his entire mood remarkably lifted from the moment that he’s come home. Cheering up by the moment, feeling better by the moment, and he can’t help the smile that covers his features. 

One that makes Yoongi feel almost giddy, a feeling he is not accustomed to, and one that he most definitely cannot explain. There is no reasoning for the way he feels, nothing he can say that would explain this feeling, not even the slightest. He’s dizzy, and his heart rate picks up, and he… he feels like he belongs. 

This feels so normal, but so different at the same time. 

Jojo rushes off to her bedroom the moment her feet touch the floor, no doubt to try and get her pyjamas off, and as Yoongi lifts his phone to his ear, Jeongguk leaves the room with a lingering gaze. Focusing so intently on the sight of his hyung looking so comfortable in his home. Nostalgia tugs on his chest, squashing him and compressing him at the same time, leaving him even more breathless than before. He can’t help but love it. Is that so bad?

Growing apart from Yoongi had never been on purpose, it had never been something he planned or even wanted at the time. If anything, he tried to combat it head-on, arranging times they would meet after they left school, back when they were both trainees, back when they had no time for themselves let alone one another. When Yoongi left, it just got worse, Jeongguk being wrapped up in his own schedule and never being given the opportunity to really get out of it. 

When Jojo came along, they had to make an exception. He was determined with that, and they listened. 

Sometimes, he wonders if he had been so determined with Yoongi, if where they remain now would end up being so different?

He can’t waste his time lingering on what-ifs, despite the fact they seem so ready to take over his entire being, curling around his frame like the thickest blanket, like a dark cloud, like lightning storms circling around him. Uncontrollable, unavoidable, omnipresent. 

Even the shower doesn’t clear his head. Always surrounded by thoughts and feelings, almost too many to understand. Buzzing around his ears like bees, like an infestation readying itself to swarm and smother. Fester. Doubting his life, doubting what he knows works, that’s more trouble than maybe it’s worth. Would he really risk everything over feelings that simmered out years ago, at the small chance of them blazing once again? It’s too difficult to say for certain, he almost doesn’t want to even consider it, but he has no choice. The water hits the back of his hair, soaking the ends of his hair, and he exhales, using this sparsely given time to relax as much as he can. 

Jojo means the world to him. He would never wish her away. She is his priority over everything else. Job, fans, stage, Yoongi, and everything else that follows. It’s not as important, nothing else is. 

His body aches. His back hurts, his shoulders are tight, his legs shake if he stands for too long. Perhaps pushing his body to the brink is beginning to take its toll on him too now. He shouldn’t be surprised, not really. 

As he uncurls himself from the wall, his body rolling through every ache and pain and joint and muscle as he does so, he takes a deep breath. Steeling himself. Preparing for something that he just doesn’t know. What’s going to face him when he leaves the bathroom? What is he going to have to deal with? A stifling awkwardness, a reunion with his once best friend, or the very thing he dreads but simultaneously wants more than anything. 

Why does everything have to be so complicated? 

The shower turns off, the water slowing to a drip, and he pushes the glass door open, immediately reaching for the towel that hangs off the back of the door. A pause. Fuck. He should have grabbed some clothes, he should have made sure he was ready to go straight to the living room, now there’s… another situation. Another potential problem. Would it make things even more awkward if Yoongi saw him half naked?

Right before any sinful thought can run through his mind, his cheeks burn right on cue, flushing down his neck and chest, the tips of his ears all coloured crimson against his skin. Not good. That would certainly only make this whole thing worse. 

But… but he doesn’t regret asking Yoongi to stay. Even if it’s just for a little while. It may take him a while to admit, it may be difficult to make sense in his sleep-addled and highly-stressed mind, he wants his hyung to stay. Having Yoongi stay for this bit, these next few hours, it’s the opportunity he’s been wanting since he was eighteen, since he missed his hyung more than he can explain. This is perfect. 

It’s perfect, and he’s afraid of messing up. He’s always afraid of messing up; it’s kind of his thing.

When he’s - mostly - dried and dressed, the ends of his hair making wet patches in the white shirt he throws on himself as quick as possible, he feels a little bit braver, a little bit more ready to use this chance with Yoongi as best he can. 

“Hyung?” He calls through the apartment, rubbing at his thighs through the material of his sweets, looking for both his daughter and his friend. It doesn’t take too long to find them, the two of them sat on the couch next to one another remarkably close, comfortable with one another after such a short period of time. He didn’t know a sight like this would end up meaning so much to him. They flick through the movie selections on the television, piles of blankets and cushions surrounding them. “...hey.”

Two pairs of eyes look up at him as he greets them, and Jeongguk is immediately met by two smiles, so vastly different from one another, and certainly invoking different feelings. With Jojo, it’s like finally being able to relax, coming home after a long day, able to unwind and sink into the cushions as best he can. But with Yoongi, the feeling he gets is so different he almost can’t find the words, unable to really find a way to label the way this is, whatever it is. With Yoongi, it’s like a thrumming in his chest, it’s excitement and giddiness and the overwhelming desire to cross whatever distance remains between the two of them, no matter who put it there. 

That distance, its origins aren’t easy to find. Not at all. But that doesn’t matter now, at least. Maybe the primary issue is finding a way to bridge it, cross it, get rid of it entirely. 

“We’re still not sure which movie to pick,” Yoongi says, his eyes creasing a little at the side before he turns back to the screen. “Jojo is determined to watch Tangled, but I said we should wait for you.”

“Mm, again?” Jeongguk asks as he climbs onto the couch next to her, essentially cushioning her between the two. “I’m always down for working on my smoulder like Flynn anyway.”

“Eugene, appa,” Jojo corrects, wiggling down a little so she’s a little more reclined, humming as she does so. “Play.”

“Bunny’s right,” Yoongi sides with the kid as he grins at Jeongguk. “Besides, I’m not sure if you can hold a candle to the hopeless romantic that is Eugene.”

And as expected, Jeongguk feigns offense, his mouth open and a hand pressed to his chest, fingers wrapping into the material of his shirt. “Are you saying I’m not as handsome as an animated character, hyung?”

“I wouldn’t dare, who knows what would happen to me,” Yoongi barks a laugh. “I would have most of the world disagreeing with me.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jeongguk asks, trying not to let it sink into his voice just how much he’s relying on the following answer. 

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate before he hums, shaking his head. “Of course not.”

It’s sweet enough, though there are certainly a million things that remain left unsaid between them. So many things that they want to say, but never having the courage nor the ability to say what needs to be said. Things that linger between them both, things they need to be straight and honest about. It comes with the question, with the most important question that rests like a barrier, a wall between. All they need to know is if the feelings from before remain, and what it would take to get them burning so brightly again. 

There is nothing else that needs to be said, at least in that moment, so Yoongi moves to press the button to start the movie, the very moment that Jeongguk settles down next to the two of them. Content for the moment, at the very least, and feeling a final concept of peace. It’s been almost too long since they did this - Jeongguk can’t really remember the last time they did, which should be enough to say this delay in conversation and quality time has been too much as it is  - and he can’t help the smile that flitters on his features, as if this is what everything should be like. 

This should be what life is like in the evenings, or at least that’s what he’s sure he wants it to be. What he wants and what he has, they’re so close, it surely won’t be too long before he manages to get both of them. Surely that would be something good, something he can’t help but cling to. Wishes and dreams, they’re weak and fall apart and disappear more often than not, but maybe this one he can keep. 

The movie plays on, his eyes so quickly growing heavy that he knows he won’t make it through the whole thing - he’ll be proud of himself if he even makes it halfway - though he certainly finds himself curling in toward the other two, his feet drawn up underneath his legs, a hand running gently through Jojo’s hair. 

Jojo watches intently, unable to look away from the screen, mumbling the lyrics to the first song under her breath in absolute amazement. 

It’s after checking on her that Jeongguk looks up to Yoongi, seeing his sleepy hyung, also mumble along to the words, his voice barely a whisper, inaudible against the sounds of everything else around them. Looking like a perfect fit on the other side of Jojo, like he belongs there. 

These feelings run through his mind over and over and over again. The same ones, like a mantra that he just can’t get rid of, a train of thought circling around like a carousel stuck on loop. 

It’s only when he starts to fall asleep himself, the weight of the day sinking down onto him does he finally pluck up the courage to do the thing that he’s wanted to do for absolutely years now. 

He reaches so slowly to link their fingers together, to hold his hand for the first time since they were at school, waiting with bated breath for whatever happens next; for total acceptance, or a certain rejection that will only unravel whatever thread if keeping him together in the first place.

Jeongguk slowly looks over to him, his eyes blinking slowly as he fights sleep. 

Yoongi looks back, smiling so softly, squeezing his hand in his own as they rest above Jojo, the cushion a perfect resting place for them as they slowly drift off to sleep, the sounds of the television their own lullaby. 

Trying to sneak out of an apartment without waking the inhabitants is, oddly enough, not something that Min Yoongi is particularly accustomed to. He’s never had to do it before, not one for sneaking out after one night stands - he never managed to do that whole ‘waking up at the crack of dawn’ thing - and there is so much that goes into it, he’s not sure if he’ll ever make it. 

It feels awkward. It feels awkward and Jeongguk is still asleep, Jojo curled into his chest with her mouth open as she sleeps too, the two of them practically welded together. 

It’s a sweet sight, it’s not something he wouldn’t care for in general, but he also knows he can’t stay. He shouldn’t. It simply isn’t his place to, and the best way to deal with that is to run. Running away is a lot easier than dealing with every single thought that has begun to blossom and bloom by spending a night on the couch. Such a simple thing, friends should be able to share nights together… it’s platonic, right? It’s normal, it’s ok, it’s allowed. He doesn’t have to worry about it.

Yet, here he is, a walking contradiction. Worried. Trying to rush and get out of here as soon as he can, as if this is the one place he shouldn’t be. 

Letting go of Jeongguk’s hand was a lot more difficult than it should have been; he still does it, tugging his fingers free from his hold, Jeongguk’s nose scrunching as he does so. Yoongi waits, hesitant, hoping that the simple action doesn’t wake him up, that make everything all the more awkward. he doesn’t move, though, and Yoongi lets go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, closing his eyes for a split second to try and calm down. Like this is certainly something a whole lot less serious than he’s making it out to be, but that doesn’t stop the way the feeling builds up inside of his chest, like a balloon raring to pop, close to exploding inside himself. 

Deep breath, exhale, stepping back to create some distance between them. 

Sleep has left his brain more muddled than usual, and he slips out of the room, the door clicking shut so very quietly. He should have gone home last night… but he didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch. 

He didn’t mean to fall asleep holding Jeongguk’s hand, but that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s happened, it’s been done and dealt with, and now he’s essentially running away with his tail between his legs. Whether he likes that analogy or not, it’s the way it makes him feel, he can’t deny that. He just doesn’t have the courage to say otherwise, do otherwise, stay here to linger in the aftermath. 

Is Jeongguk going to hate him? Or never speak to him again? He’s not sure about many of the feelings he has, but he knows if that ever happened, he would simply fall apart on the spot. 

He should go quickly. Pretend that he never stayed over in the first place, acting as if he left before the night ended, long before Jeongguk woke up--

“Hyung?” 

Once again, Jeongguk calls. His voice groggy from sleep, hoarse and a little bit scratchy, deeper than what he’s used to. It comes from the living room, from where he just left, and Yoongi freezes in place, still half bent over to reach the laces of his shoes, and he hesitates. Does he go back? Does he hide? Does he answer back? Too many options and not enough chance to find the one that works best for him; he finds that to be a running trend, in his life at the very least. There is never enough time, never a chance for him to make a moment to think. To evaluate the right choice. But he can’t do that, he never gets to do that. 

Jeongguk slides out through the door also, padding along down the hallway, running a hand through his hair as he tries to fix it, fix his clothes, all a little sheepish. Unable to meet Yoongi’s eye, though he would personally put that down to all of the sleep in his own eyes, perhaps. “Are you ok? You didn’t say goodbye.”

Yoongi winces. “I didn’t want to wake you, you’re exhausted.”

There is a simple nod in response. “You didn’t wake me, my alarm did, I have to get up around this time anyway.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his shoulder hunched, but Yoongi remembers how he held his hand again, how he slept with that comforting weight against his palm… wonders how different it would be when awake. 

The hallway feels like it’s crowding him, the pictures hanging only reminding him that this isn’t his home, this isn’t where he belongs. No matter how much he wants to. There just isn’t the space for him, there’s no place for him here, it’s just not where he should be. 

Even though he would give the world to be able to slip into here, pretend like this is it. His chance at a happy ending. 

That must be the sudden influx of Disney movies taking its toll on him. He doesn’t really mind, though. It’s like taking a breath of fresh air ‘for the first time in forever.’

Don’t worry, he’s cringing at himself for that one. 

“Is Hoseok feeling any better?” Yoongi asks, filling the air around them with something, anything at all as long as it means they don’t have to linger in some ill-fitting silence. “Is he looking after Jojo today?”

Jeongguk clears his throat, “I was… actually going to ask if you could take care of her again today. I can pay you or something--”

He’s not going to bring up the fact he could ask Seokjin or Taehyung… he doesn’t want to really deal with that. 

“You don’t have to pay me for taking care of Jojo,” Yoongi intervenes. “Of course I’ll look after her.”

“She’s taken to you.” He explains quietly, his voice dragging the slightest bit. Still tired, it seems; Yoongi only wishes that he would rest a little more. It can’t be good for him, it can’t be good for him at all, judging by the way his frame sags. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, honest.”

“Jeonggukie,” Yoongi tries to stifle his smile. “I already said I would.”

Jeongguk hesitates, chuckling a little, his nose scrunching in that familiar way as he does so. Of course, resorting to the old nickname as if it’s a shortcut to get his own way, to draw his attention. As if on cue, his mind is flooded with memories of their school days, of the ones just after, the two of them crowded onto a piano seat with one leg hanging off each. Fingers pressing against ivory keys, laughter shared between the two, moments that they will never be able to have again, but it ignites the idea that maybe they can have similar ones soon. New memories. Ones they can treasure even more. He didn’t realise how much he wanted that, how much he wants it now. 

But he has priorities, things that call and summon his attention, more than Yoongi. It hurts, but he has responsibilities. Jojo being the first, the main one, that only one that counts towards anything.

The second, of course, being his job, though he believes that Yoongi is so very close to taking over its position on the list. Only a few steps behind. 

“You get a break soon, right?” Yoongi asks, reaching to rest his hand on Jeongguk’s upper arm without a thought, his fingers pressing into his skin before his breath catches in his throat. Unable to look away, unable to move away. 

And Jeongguk himself, well… it’s almost as if he presses into the hand, enjoying this simple touch for what it is. A hint at what they both want, but neither willing to admit quite yet. Crossing that line, crossing that boundary, it’s almost too much for them both to do. Neither can do it without the other, yet neither will without the other going first. 

Love is complicated. Especially when the love itself is a little more than something new and blossoming, not something they’re trying to reignite. 

“I will,” Jeongguk answers quietly, nodding his head slowly. “I will, hyung. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s when you say that… that I end up worrying the most.”

Another round of shared smiles, of hints to moments before. Yoongi knows it can’t go on like this. He has to separate himself, he has to maintain some distance. Whatever they had before, it would be no good for them now. 

“Appa?” A quiet voice sounds, accompanied by the soft rustling of blankets. “Appa!”

Jeongguk takes a breath, and steps back as Yoongi drops his arm, whatever building atmosphere between the two of them dissipates into the air. Gone within a moment’s notice, just like it should be. 

At least, that’s what they try to tell themselves. 

“We should--”

“--yeah…” Yoongi nods, taking a deep breath. “I need to shower, and I need some clean clothes.”

Jeongguk steps back, retreating back to the living room after he points to the door on the right, close to Yoongi. “You can borrow some of mine, in there. You can use the shower too.”

“Thanks.”

As he disappears, Yoongi finds himself watching, unable to look away, and honestly not wanting to. Having this invitation, this suggestion to not only use Jeongguk’s shower, but to wear his clothes also, it’s almost domestic. Sweet, even, though he tries to convince himself to not think about it too much, to look into it too deeply. Even as his hand pushes against Jeongguk’s door, opening up the entryway to his bedroom, it feels like he’s encroaching on some private space, some intimate space…

His bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in for weeks, a bottle of water rests on the bedside table looking like it hasn’t been touched for ages. While the sheets are disturbed and clothes are scattered across the ground, it doesn’t look… lived in. There is nothing here beyond a few photos taped to the mirror.

At a closer look, he notices the figures in the pictures. Pictures of Jeongguk holding Jojo when she was tiny, when she was nothing but a baby with the brightest smile on his face, photos of her growing up. 

A picture of him and Yoongi, right at the top, almost hidden as the others overlap, concealing it; he would have missed it had it not been for the familiar sight of Jeongguk’s cheeks mushed against his, lips pursed together in a pout, eyes straight at the camera. They were no older than eighteen, nineteen here, having only just abandoned their school jackets and shirts for casual tees and shorts in the blazing summer heat before they split off for their lives. 

His fingers run along the edge, taking in every detail of the image, trying to remember exactly what it is before he looks away. It’s not his picture to keep, but the very fact that Jeongguk has kept it… that has to mean something, surely, it has to mean more than he would have expected at first. Why would he have such an old photo mixed in with all of the others? Why would he have such an old photo in the first place?

Unless… unless he really does like him in the same way Yoongi does. He’s almost too afraid to hope, to really venture out into believing something like that can be true. Is that bad? Is it bad he wants it? Even though he knows it wouldn’t be any good for him. Not for Jeongguk. 

He turns away from the mirror without another thought, exhaling harshly as he opens up the wardrobe, reaching blindly for a shirt and pair of sweats, something he can tighten around his waist and roll up the length of. 

He can’t remember when Jeongguk got so much taller than him. He’s not sure he wants to. 

The thing is, Jeongguk hasn’t been able to have much of that night out of his head either. Having feigned sleep the moment he became aware Yoongi had woken up, aware the very second that he had decided to sneak out, not wanting to make things even worse. After all, if Yoongi was sneaking out, he was surely doing it for a reason.  

And at that point, he realised he didn’t want Yoongi to go. So, yeah, maybe he told the slightest white lie and asked him to look after Jojo again, shooting Hoseok a quick text that he can take another day to make sure he’s completely better, not mentioning how he has Yoongi here. Yoongi here, in his apartment, struggling to put his shoes on at his front door. 

Leaving Yoongi at his apartment, with his daughter, dressed in his clothes watching cartoons and eating yoghurt. Not anything special or exciting or dynamic, but something he knows he would surely treasure, something he knows he would get used to if given the opportunity. 

Opportunities strike and fade, flash like lightning before disappearing just as quick. Shining bright for a few brief seconds before gone entirely. And that’s why Jeongguk got up. That’s why he asked him to stay, afraid that his opportunity was being given to him and he was about to watch it flee out the door before the sun had risen, like it was some sort of one night stand he was running from as opposed to a simple moment shared on a couch, the end credits to a movie the atmosphere settling around them. 

“Focus!” A balled up piece of paper hits the back of his head gently, the music to Jeongguk’s latest title track coming to a sharp stop. He huffs, his cheeks filled with air and he pouts, looking toward Park Jimin with his bottom lip sticking out. “What’s going on with you today?”

Jimin looks at him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking so thoroughly unimpressed for a moment, though the expression on his features wavers not that much long afterward. His eyes soften the slightest bit, and he sighs, shaking his head. “Are you alright? Is it Jojo, is she sick?”

“She’s alright, hyung,” Jeongguk answers in a single breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just distracted today, sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He smiles softly. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

Jimin raises a brow, his lips pressed together. “Tell me.”

There is a pause before Jeongguk sinks to the floor, his legs crossed and running his hands through his hair, trying to find the words. “...you know Yoongi-hyung?”

He waits for Jimin to join him on the floor, and it’s only when his hyung sits with him is there any semblance of response. “Of course. I haven’t seen him for a while but, yeah.”

“He’s taking care of Jojo,” Jeongguk explains slowly. “He did yesterday too, Hobi was sick.”

Jimin blink, though licking his lips, searching once again for an answer, an answer he believes he is unlikely to receive. It’s almost unlikely to find out the truth of the situation; anybody who went to school with the two of them would surely be aware of how they felt for one another. It was impossible at the time to not see, for any of them to not notice the way they would hang onto each other’s words, fingers intertwined and twisted into sleeves, attached by the hip on the worst days, and perhaps certainly more on the best. 

It would have been… simply the standard for the two of them to spend all of their time together, yet like most people, like most that Jimin knows anyway… things happen. Things happen and people grow apart. Like many, Jimin always thought that Jeongguk and Yoongi were one of those that did. 

“And… he is today, too?”

Jeongguk nods, his shoulders sagging a little, his hands wrapping around his ankles. His index fingers push into his socks, biting down onto his lip. “...is that bad?”

His hyung pauses in response before he shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Why would it be bad?”

“Because I don’t want him to leave.” He mumbles under his breath, his frame curling up a little more, only reminding Jimin of the kid he knew at school, not at all like the top idol and father that he’s grown up to be. But it makes him remember, and realise just how much they’ve all grown, all changed. “I asked him to take care of Jojo for another day because he stayed the night, and seeing him, waking up with him--”

“Did you guys…?” Jimin trails off.

Jeongguk blushes immediately, colouring a bright red. “We didn’t-- no, we fell asleep watching movies.”

Even the thought of that is likely to make him get all embarrassed, if only because it’s not a thought that he’s had. Not really, not for years now. Thinking about it only makes him think too much, think far too deeply, think about Yoongi constantly. Absolutely constantly. He just can’t do that.

Being an adult is hard. Making difficult decisions is not something he wants to do, especially when he knows it won’t be a decision that is easily made in the first place. A lose/lose situation. Someone is going to end up disappointed about something, that part is practically inevitable. 

“I want to ask them for more time off,” he says, rolling onto his back, sinking into the ground, as if wishing it will swallow him up. Perhaps that would be the best for all of them, all involved. “Jojo should be spending school breaks with me, not with whoever I can beg to take her.” He looks to Jimin, taking in a deep breath. “It’s not fair, I’m missing out on her life--”

“You’re missing out on your own life too,” Jimin pipes up quietly. When Jeongguk looks at him, he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s the truth. Jojo is also your life, but you need to do something outside of work and parenting. It’s no good for you.”

“I have no time for that.”

“Then find a way to make time.”

Jeongguk finds his brows furrowing before he can even acknowledge it, his lips drawn together in surely the most unimpressed look. “How should I do that?”

Jimin mimics his expression; an action that immediately reminds Jeongguk of Jojo. “You literally just said it yourself,” he huffs. “Come on, Jeongguk. You’re literally their golden child, they would never say no to you.”

“I’m twenty-three, hyung, I’m not a child anymore.”

“Jeongguk,” another voice chimes in as the door to the dance studio opens, a familiar group of managers and officials walking in, dressed in the same suits they always are, never a hair out of place, never anything less than a definition of perfect. “How are you doing?”

They don’t actually care, he has to remind himself. They just want to know he’s working. Focused on making money over everything else. He shouldn’t be surprised, not really. It’s been this way since he debuted, having any other concept of what his life would be like would not be too dissimilar to those who preach on and on about the definition of insanity, or so they like to say. 

“I’m doing alright, sir,” he says, not quite willing to bring up the great debate regarding the state of his current affairs right now. “Just taking a break, don’t want to work Jimin-hyung too hard.”

Jimin scoffs at being used as the scapegoat, leaning to pinch at Jeongguk’s cheek in some mild form of revenge. “He’s working hard, but there is actually something Jeongguk would like to speak to you about.”

Ah, perhaps that is the true revenge right there; forcing Jeongguk to have a discussion he’s been wanting to have for months, lest he end up with a certain awkwardness if he doesn’t bring it up now, if he doesn’t answer, if he doesn’t ask them for the very thing he’s been desperate to ask for almost a year now. 

“Is that so, Jeongguk?” The sound of his manager’s voice has him feeling even more awkward, and he looks down at the ground. 

It still amazes those around him. To have so much confidence on stage compared to the lack of confidence offstage, particularly when it comes to his personal life, it shouldn’t be so surprising anymore. Not to those who know him so well, however. 

“Yeah,” he manages to choke out, his voice catching in his throat, perhaps a telling sign that he should be listening to more than anything else. “I actually wanted to discuss my hours. I need more time at home with Jojo, I’m not resting well--”

“We all know you work so hard and that’s what makes you so successful!” His manager cuts over him, smiling at the higher-ups that seemed to have their opinion of him waver at that simple mention. Of course, he didn’t really expect any other reaction, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t completely feel like shit when they shoot him down so quickly, no hesitation, not even listening to the one request he’s asked of them for years. “The company really is grateful for your work, Jeongguk.”

His voice quietens immediately, whatever courage he had to ask them for this one thing squashed, gone entirely, no time for it to grow and blossom and bloom like courage should, as if it’s been set alight. 

“Jimin, I assume the choreography for the concert is ready to go? He knows it?”

Perfect, now they’re speaking about him like he’s not even in the room. Jeongguk turns away, focusing intently on the laces of his shoes, keeping his gaze down, attempting to tune out the discussion around him. 

Jimin, however, plays the game well, plays his part perfectly, as expected of him. He smiles so softly, almost sweet in his demeanour. “Of course,” he answers, his voice remarkably light. “We’re just tightening it all up, working on stamina and strength, all of that.”

His manager nods, still grinning. “Wonderful. We’ll leave you both to it.”

As they leave, murmurs of good-byes and ‘work hards’ echoing through the mostly empty space, Jeongguk feels that heavy pressure push down on him once again. It’s harder than he would like to admit, remaining in this life. He loves performing, he loves music and dance and his fans, but he loves Jojo more, he wants to provide for her in the best way, considering she is the only one he has, and he is the only one she has. 

Except, maybe that’s not the case for her, not anymore. Not if everything works out in his favour, anyway. 

But this is just getting his hopes up. He should know better than to dream of impossible things, almost manifesting them so much that he can’t quite tell what’s real, what’s possible, what’s inevitable at this point. All of these wants and wishes and things he could have blending and merging like the mixing of paints, all becoming one colour, one that he can’t quite make out clearly. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles, resting his hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, and Jeongguk heaves a sigh the minute he does, shaking his head. “They should have listened to you, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s alright,” he answers back, pressing his forehead to the joint of his hyung’s forearm, taking in a deep breath, and steeling himself for the day at work he has ahead of him. “You had good intentions. It’s just… not meant to happen right now.”

“But you’re exhausted, you need to--”

“I need to rehearse,” Jeongguk says instead, interrupting Jimin and standing up, ignoring whatever he wants to do, and instead focusing on what everybody else wants him to do. Only one option can win, it seems. “Come on, I want to have this perfect.”

Perfect is a word he is quickly beginning to despise.

This evening plays out similarly to the last one, though Jeongguk isn’t sure if that’s something he’s pleased about or something he should be dreading. Jojo is once again on the couch, watching movies as she aimlessly flicks through one of her many kid’s books, chattering so easily to herself, not needing the attention of Jeongguk nor Yoongi to keep her company. 

Jeongguk feels his body protest as he leans against the counter, his posture curled as he rests his weight on his forearms, his head hanging a little as he tries to gather the energy to go and shower, to wash the grime and dried sweat from his frame… but work was hard today. He feels as if he really did push his body to the limits this time, dancing until his legs were shaking and his vision was blurry, sweat dripping down his back, his neck, his forehead. Limbs trembling, head spinning, unable to focus on anything as the night settled outside of the window, signifying the end was drawing soon. 

He needs to think. He needs to think about what to do, what he should be doing, why he feels so trapped. Stuck between decisions, stuck in a place he can never move on from, caught between three pillars.

He didn’t expect to feel such emotions, he really didn’t. He didn’t think calling Yoongi would have ended up reigniting so many emotions… they’ve spent time together before, after graduating. Time when Jeongguk had breaks from his schedule, when Jojo was still stringing the strangest words together thinking she was having a conversation with whoever understood her baby babble, when he was just far too busy to think about Yoongi in that light, in that way. 

Why is everything unearthing now? Why is he feeling this way now?

“You’re distracted,” Yoongi pokes the center of his forehead, and Jeongguk’s features scrunch up, as if expecting the simple action to hurt; when it doesn’t, he huffs, shrugging his shoulders. “What’s on your mind?

“Oh, just a million and one things,” Jeongguk admits, trying to muster an almost sleepy smile. “I’m alright, hyung.”

“You don’t have to keep things from me, Jeonggukie,” Yoongi answers quietly, his voice gentle. 

He could just kiss him. 

Jeongguk could kiss Yoongi right now - he wants to, he wants to more than anything else in this moment - and while it surely wouldn’t be the most romantic of first kisses, he can’t help the quiet sound in the back of his head telling him to do it, to take the risk, to do what he’s wanted to do for a while now. 

Is that bad? Is it bad he’s willing to take that risk now? Is it bad he’s ignoring every other part of his mind telling him that he should stop being so selfish and swallow those feelings as best he can? 

“Hyung?” He whispers, stepping closer, his body protesting greatly as he straightens his posture. His fingers trail across the counter slightly, the tips brushing against the back of Yoongi’s hand, tempting himself, daring himself, to go just that little bit closer. All they would need to do is step closer, have one more moment shared between them, he knows they are so close to finally breaking through that boundary, that final hurdle that leads to surely whatever happy-ever-after they’re bound to have. 

Perhaps that is where he went wrong. Assuming that he was entitled to any such thing, perhaps that is where he lost his focus and decided to fall apart. Decided, of course, being the operative word. There is little in Jeongguk’s life that he has decided, choices that have been left to him to choose from, they are seldom found. How funny, to lack direction and courage and even the control of one’s own life, he is so used to having these things decided for him. Now, maybe it’s the whole fact that he’s been able to make this one himself that it is decidedly, already, going entirely wrong. 

“What is it, Jeongguk?” He asks quietly, Yoongi tilting his head toward him the slightest bit. “Are you ok?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know the answers to those questions; no matter how much he tries to think of a response, he never seems to be able to come up with one. What he wants right now… maybe there is no more need for talking. Maybe he doesn’t need to speak right now. 

They slowly inch together, easing together, like a magnet draws them to the same place, pulling them to one another. He leans in, leans in almost suddenly to press their lips together, to kiss Yoongi like he’s wanted to since the night before. He can’t help the way his heart races so rapidly in his chest, he can’t help the way his breath hitches in his throat, the way his hands itch to touch the soft flesh of his cheek. It feels as if they are finally coming to a climax that has been lingering around them since the years of their late teens, when they could only barely buy alcohol and giggled in the darkness of their childhood bedrooms as they passed a bottle of soju between them, cheeks flushed and smiles stitched to their lips. 

Yoongi takes a breath, his eyes drifting down to Jeongguk’s lips, staring at them, unable to look away. Their noses brush against one another, Jeongguk’s hand touches his, and all it would take is the slightest movement, the slightest little thing for them to finally kiss--

Then Yoongi pulls away, just before they actually touch, before they can finally do the one thing that they both want to do. They want to kiss, they want to, they want so much but the fact of the matter is… not everybody can get what they want. Why should it be a surprise that the two of them are not exceptions to this rule?

It shatters the atmosphere around the two of them, it brings them spiralling back to a reality surely so bleak and uninviting that they look away from one another, gaze breaking, awkwardness wrapping its hands around their throats and squeezing. Squeezing and squeezing until there is nothing left, no air and no fight for life, just an emptiness that cannot be explained, not in words… not in actions either. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, making that first step, hoping they can still salvage whatever budding relationship - friendship or otherwise - was beginning to blossom between them both. Or re-blossom, reignite, rekindle. 

“It’s fine,” Yoongi’s voice is strained, like he’s forcing the words out of his lips, forcing them to climb out of his throat and present themselves to Jeongguk, left open. Leaving himself open. “Things like this, they happen between friends, right?”

The words sting a little more than they probably should, but he tries to swallow down the feelings that arise. Unpleasant feelings, ones that he would rather not have, but… perhaps there is no choice now. They’re there, they’re present, they’re undeniable. He just hopes he hasn’t ruined everything. 

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, and Yoongi nods immediately. 

“It’s not like anything could happen between us, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk pauses, recoiling a little, as if he’s just been slapped in the face. “...it couldn’t?”

“Of course not,” but Yoongi doesn’t look up at him as he speaks, instead moving to wipe down the kitchen counters after prepping dinner, his jaw tense. Tight, his teeth gritting together, his whole body moving so stiffly. “We’re adults, we can’t just mess each other about.”

“I didn’t intend to--”

The dishes are dropped a little bit harshly, trying his best to interrupt whatever train of thought the idol was heading on, it seems. It’s obvious Yoongi doesn’t want to talk about it, and Jeongguk shouldn’t really push it, he shouldn’t push for an answer. But he can’t help it, he can’t help but tune out the quiet noise of the television, of Jojo babbling to herself, of everything that isn’t Yoongi’s voice right now. 

It comes after Yoongi takes a deep breath, one that he can hear from across the kitchen. “I left the entertainment industry for a reason, Jeongguk. You’re still in it.”

“Is that the only reason you won’t even humour the idea of us?” He asks so quietly, his voice so gentle. “Is that it?”

Yoongi still won’t look at him. “Part of it.”

“Well, what’s the other part?”

“I’m not going to argue with you--”

“Then, don’t argue. Just tell me so I can fix whatever part of me you don’t like.”

Yoongi gives up after a moment. The fight leaves his frame, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he turns so very slowly to face him once again. He already looks worn out, his brows furrowed, nothing left in him to really fight whatever it is left they have to fight about. “You live a miraculously busy life. You don’t live a normal life to begin with, but you love it. You’ve said so yourself so many times.”

He doesn’t understand why that would be an issue, though. Not really. There are hundreds if not thousands of so-called-celebrities that have lives outside of their work, that have families and lovers and who knows what else, why should he be any different? Why can’t he have who he wants to, when the only thing seemingly standing in his way is his job, being an idol, something he loves but something he knows he needs to change in the first place. 

It’s true, his work hours are not suitable for a family life, but they’re certainly not suitable for Jojo, let alone a relationship. But that’s just it, he’s already trying to make a change, he’s not too far off it in the first place. He tried today. Maybe if he just tried harder, Yoongi would have kissed him, and who knows where that would have led them to. 

“I don’t understand, hyung.”

“I know how hard you work yourself,” Yoongi starts again, running a hand over his face. “I won’t contribute to your exhaustion, I won’t take more of whatever time you have left for yourself. Being an idol is so tiring, and that’s why I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“But I like you,” Jeongguk whispers. “I’ve liked you for years, hyung.”

“And I liked you,” Yoongi responds, though his gaze darts down. “I think we just ran out of time.”

“We can make time--”

“Your priority is Jojo,” and this time, Yoongi shrugs his shoulders, as if he’s saying the most simplest thing in the world. “And then it should be yourself.”

He still doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t understand why - if his hyung really does like him, like he just said that he did - they can’t be together. He never envisaged an obstacle like this, he had been so sure about how he felt and how Yoongi felt, maybe he tricked himself. Maybe he tricked himself into believing that everything would work out well, that he would end up with some happy ending after everything, after all of that hard work. 

Stupid. It was stupid of him to think so, is stupid of him to not have realised until now. There are a million things he should have taken as signs to tell him otherwise, a million entirely. 

The silence that follows is even more stifling than he thought it would have been, and honestly, he can’t help but think that maybe if he hadn’t tried to kiss him, he could have remained in his illusion, happily naive and oblivious to everything. Perhaps it would have maintained his happiness just a little bit longer. He could have done that, right?

But now, he doesn’t know what to say. It’s like his throat has closed up, leaving him speechless, wordless, and if he’s being honest with himself, utterly heartbroken too. 

“I’m going to, uh…” Jeongguk clears his throat. “Go have a shower.”

“I’ll go home afterwards, if you don’t mind,” Yoongi supplies, and Jeongguk can only find himself nodding, not trusting his voice to say anything else. “I have deadlines to fulfill, that sort of thing.”

Excuses, for the both of them that is, but Jeongguk doesn’t argue it, doesn’t fight Yoongi’s desire to leave, no matter how much he really wants to. He wants to beg him to stay, he wants to plead with him to stay with him another night. Just one more. 

He’s not sure if he could really handle not holding Yoongi’s hand as he falls asleep, not right now anyway. It’s a longing he feels in the pit of his gut, it’s one that he cannot help but completely yearn for. But Jeongguk knows he cannot ask for it. It would be too awkward, it would be too weird, right now it’s not his place to. Not anymore. 

Whatever had begun to grow between them, whatever emotion, whatever feeling that they had reignited from their schooldays, Jeongguk could practically feel it wither and decay with each step back he took, each foot of distance that gained between them. 

The shower is going to do little to ease his mind. He knows that as the water runs, heating up as he waits, his lips pressed together so determinedly as he tries to hold himself together. Stupid. So fucking stupid, how could he have been so stupid to think his hyung would want anything to do after all of these years, after everything they have been through, and all of that space that has gathered between them. Time heals everything, but it ages everything too. And some things get damaged as they age, ruined to the point of no return, never able to get better. 

And it hurts. It’s like a deep ache in his chest, right where his heart is. Like everything is eating him from the inside out, leaving him hollow. Hollow, empty, a blackhole where organs and feelings and emotions should be. Emotions that fester and grow and drain the very life out of him. As if he really needed to be any more exhausted than he already is, any more tired. 

He shouldn’t have hoped. He shouldn’t have lost himself in some dream that he was never able to accomplish, one he was never able to make come true, no matter how much he tried. 

Some things truly are better left unsaid, it seems. If only he knew that would apply to him beforehand. All rather too little too late, apparently. 

He knows when he steps out of the shower, when he leaves the bathroom, Yoongi won’t be there. If anything, he may be catching him as he leaves, if only to make sure Jojo isn’t by herself without an adult to make sure she doesn’t get hurt, but Yoongi won’t be there for him, to spend time with him. 

It does little to make him feel better, but he cannot help but focus on it. Hyperfixate, drown himself in the thought, allow its hands to pull at his insides until there is simply nothing of him left. Perhaps that would be best, to become this perfect machine that does what everybody wants of him; takes care of Jojo, is the best idol he can be, doesn’t love his hyung so wholeheartedly. 

He’s said it before but he’ll say it again - he’ll say it a thousand times if it makes him feel even the slightest bit better - he should have known that it wouldn’t have worked out in his favour. Things seldom do, especially when they’re more personal things like his lovelife, or supposedly lack of. To even fool himself into thinking Yoongi would have been an exception, makes him wonder if he really did just bring this on himself. It wouldn’t surprise him, not now anyway. 

Maybe he could catch him, maybe he could hurry in the shower and ask Yoongi to stay, almost begging him to remain at his side. Jeongguk chews so reverently on the skin of his bottom lip, trying to think of the best way to deal with this. The issue is, he has no idea what the best way is, what the best way forward could even be. He could ask him to stay - which would perhaps only lead to things becoming even more awkward between the two of them, being forced to stay in one another’s company if he says yes but if he says no, he’s not sure how well or how poorly he would take it. At the same time, he could let him go. Could let him walk out of the room, out of his apartment, and only hope that it doesn’t end up meaning he’ll walk out of his life for good. 

Once again, it seems Jeon Jeongguk is faced with a no-win situation, and he hates it entirely. 

A shiver runs through his frame; the steam from the shower only makes the spray look even more inviting, surely adding only warmth to his skin, and allowing him rest, to relax, to feel muscles unwind in the hot water. It certainly leans in favour of him letting this situation play out, not putting work into maintaining Yoongi’s position in his apartment. If he wants to go, he should let him go, no matter how much it will hurt him. 

Minutes later, stepping out of the shower with the water turned off, hair soaked and dripping onto his shoulders, he does not hide the despair that covers his features. His breath hitches in his throat, and he immediately blames the wetness of his cheeks on the water from the shower, despite the fact he knows deep down this is… different. It’s entirely different.

He hears the front door shut without even a call of his name, without a goodbye, and Jojo pushes open the door to the bathroom as Jeongguk pulls a robe on, a pout on her features. 

“Yoonie-hyung went home.”

At first, he thinks he’s made the right decision. After all, all this does is save them both from even more heartache further down the line, further along as the days pass and they move on, as they fool themselves into thinking that they’re meant to be together when the answer is they’re simply not, not one bit. That’s the truth. 

Well, at least that is what he would like to think, but such intrusive thoughts are beginning to convince him otherwise. Because what if he really has made this big mistake, this choice that is going to end up coming back to bite him, to hurt him, to make him think he really did mess up. 

Because now that he’s alone, now that he’s shut the door to his apartment and pressed his back to the solid wood, exhaling… realising that maybe, just maybe, he really did ruin everything that he could have had with Jeongguk, long before they could even really figure out whatever potential the two of them had. 

It’s as if he’s erased everything. Wiped clean the slate, gotten rid of everything without much chance of getting any of it back. He figured that, perhaps, there truly is no way to get anything back. Once something is lost, it’s almost impossible to retrieve it once again, which is almost as heartbreaking as pushing Jeongguk away in the first place. He’s not sure if anything would really shape up to whatever mess that really was. 

He didn’t realise how tired he would be, however, until he sunk down onto the couch, all of that tension sinking from his shoulders and leaving behind what is surely only remains of what would have once been considered a human, a person. He certainly feels as empty as one, even if it is just for right now. 

What if he really has been as stupid as to ruin everything with Jeongguk, as to turn away potentially his only chance of happiness… it wouldn’t surprise him, not really… he’s ruined things before, ruined things with Jeongguk before, why should today be any different?

Heaving a sigh, he quickly finds himself slipping into a quick sleep, the softness of the couch cushions combined with the heavy weight on his shoulders, the stress and self-doubt weighing him down like an anchor has been attached to his chest practically screaming at him to sleep. To rest. To push these thoughts out of his head, even if only for a short while, to give himself respite from the anxiety and the stress that surely plagues his mind. Yes, Yoongi feels as if he has made the wrong choice, coming home to nobody, all alone, it felt weird. It felt wrong. 

Perhaps it is weird to have grown an attachment to a family he is not a part of after so little time spent with them. Foolish of him, stupid of him, especially when knowing he certainly does not belong there. 

Sometimes he wonders if there truly is anywhere that he actually belongs. And he knows it’s a silly thought, that everyone belongs somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he can just wish the anxiety and self-doubt away, no matter how much he wants to. 

“Idiot, Min Yoongi,” he had mumbled to himself before he had fallen asleep, and when awakening many hours later, neck stiff and body sore from the poor sleeping position, that statement is still ricocheting around his head like a bouncy ball, hitting against every surface. 

Idiot, seems to be right. In more ways than one, he believes. 

And even after sleeping for so long, he had no energy left, nothing left inside him to try and convince himself to move, to get showered and dressed, to work on the million things piling up on his desk. Instead, it’s as if his brain has been hardwired to only think about Jeongguk, to think about Jojo, and to imagine what life would be like right now if he had stayed. 

Yes, he’s being a little dramatic, but he’s allowed to be right now, surely. He feels as if he’s taken a killing blow, though perhaps not one that actually results in death… doesn’t that defeat the point?

Yoongi notes that he doesn’t like this feeling. He doesn’t like this feeling, he doesn’t like the way it festers in his stomach like an infection, an infestation in of itself, making him nauseous, as if eating his insides, devouring them until there is surely nothing of him left… he’s not sure how he would be able to handle that, he’s not sure if he wants to. 

He’s not sure if he wants to handle much life without Jeongguk at his side, as if taking a hint of what could be his future has made him entirely dependent on him, entirely needy of that one person to be at his side. He can’t really imagine it, he doesn’t think he’s been that way before. 

Oh, wait. He has. With Jeongguk when they were kids, with Jeongguk when they were in high school, with Jeongguk in that piano room, any piano room where they would be promised peace. Such thoughts, such memories that he didn’t know would mean so much to him, memories he clings to with everything he has, because now he is afraid. He is afraid they will slip through his fingers, he is afraid they will fade into nothing, he is afraid that he will lose them just as he has now lost Jeongguk, if you could imagine such an idea. 

Pulling himself up from the couch, he finds that he stumbles at first, his legs a little bit weak, and he cannot help the way he takes a deep breath, his chest trembling, trying to keep himself in one piece. 

Still tired, no doubt due to emotional turmoil he is putting himself through. Physically rested, but restless, mind running a mile a minute. Never stopping, never ceasing, never giving him a moment to catch his breath. 

It’s a little bit strange, a little bit uncomfortable, but there’s not much else he can really do other than push through these feelings and try to work, try to focus, try to be something other than totally smitten and fully in love with somebody he can never have. 

“Fuck it,” falls from his lips before he can do much to stop it, squaring his shoulders back; why should he deny himself of a fundamental right, a right to love whoever he pleases, no matter if that love is unrequited? He is allowed to love Jeongguk, there is nothing lawful or otherwise telling him he can’t so why must he swallow these feelings? Why must he push them aside in favour for something proper, whatever the meaning of the word? If others can love, if others can adore and cherish and love, why can’t he?

It’s with that courage that Yoongi pulls his phone out of his pocket, the time reading a little past seven that morning - still an utterly atrocious time to be awake, but he’ll take whatever he can get at this point - readying himself to call up the one he loves and lay some likely pathetic confession in the guise of true love when… there is a rather anticlimactic end to the story, one that reeks of disappointment and impending heartbreak. Because Yoongi… well, Yoongi never manages to get much of a chance when it comes to things like this. 

Idol Jeon Jeongguk seen with mystery man - is this the start of a new romance?

It flashes across his screen as the top notification, sent through from whatever news site had decided to post tabloid problems and idol issues, but it’s so prominent that he can’t find it in himself to look away. Yoongi doesn’t open the article, pressing his lips together and trying to find some sort of reasoning for whatever it is he is faced with. He’s not even sure what to think, though he is entirely set on the idea that this mystery man cannot be somebody he knows, cannot be anybody other than surely Jeongguk’s lover. 

To think he almost kissed him. To think he was about to confess.

And even though all thoughts of confession had grown and then deflated just as quickly, he needed some sort of closure, some sort of answer to the millions of questions that ran around his head like a train on full-speed. There must be a reason, there is a reason for everything. 

He presses the Call button before he can think about it, and dread fills him up like a hot, thick fluid that reminds him all too much of tar. 

It rings. Which is certainly a good sign. It rings and it rings, but as it keeps ringing, as it goes on and on, that feeling Yoongi has only gets worse. His stomach sinks, his heart plummets, he feels as if the ground is just going to open up and swallow him, and in a way, he kind of wants that. Anything to save him from what he’s sure is his fate to be, anything at all. He’s not fussy right now. 

Especially when the call rings out, when Jeongguk doesn’t answer, when he hears his familiar voice on the voicemail, telling him to leave a message after the beep, and Yoongi stands there in silence. Just for a moment, just to try and gather his bearings before he clears his throat, biting down impossibly hard on his bottom lip. 

“Hey,” he starts, his voice cracking, pitching, like he has no control over himself. In a way, at this point, he’s questioning if he does have any control. It was a stupid and impulsive decision to ring Jeongguk with the intention of confessing feelings that he’s not even sure of, let alone speaking them aloud; that brings a sense of certainty that he knows he doesn’t have. “It’s me.”

Wonderful introduction, Yoongi. Truly, so very detailed. 

He clears his throat. “I just wanted to… I’m sorry,” he starts, though he holds little hope. “I panicked, I always thought that feelings and things...” he trails off again. Struggling already. Unsure of what to say, unsure what he really wants to say to begin with. 

Deep breath, slow exhale. “I wish I had the courage you have sometimes,” he whispers, no doubt his voice barely heard by the receiver. “I wish I could do what you do, because I swear you’re more than human with the shit you balance and the way you speak, the way you are.” While he knows this is surely unhelpful and just mindless babble, nothing important, nothing worth saying, despite the fact he may very well be pouring his heart out to a voicemail inbox, even though there might not be anybody who listens. 

“I wish I had the courage to feel what I want to, what I know I do feel to begin with, but…” A quiet hum, and he cannot stop the soft smile that flitters across his features. “I’m sorry for letting you down. I hope this mystery man of yours really makes you happy. It’s what you deserve more than anything, I swear.”

When he hangs up, there is such a sudden sad feeling that overtakes him like he’s being overcome by a wave, crushing him to the sand. Yoongi drops his phone onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, and he runs his tongue over his lips. Unsure of what to do next, unsure of where he stands, knowing that there are some things that cannot be undone. He truly will have to live with the consequences of his actions, especially now that Jeongguk has seemingly moved on so quickly. 

Moved on… as if they were together in the first place. 

He purses his lips, looks down at his now abandoned phone, and walks away from the couch, walks away from the mess he made. 

Jojo is, once again, not with her father. He’s not too far though, instead only a few feet away with the door shut tight between them, the careful eyes of Hoseok watching her so determinedly as he awaits whatever fate may be granted to him. Whatever decision is rested onto his shoulders, whatever choices are made on his behalf, whatever he must deal with when the sun sets and the day ends and everybody goes home, leaving him with all of the pieces to gather back up, to try and fix. He can only hope it’s not too bad, this aftermath. 

He can only hope it won’t be as bad as he’s imagining, to whatever situation he is building up and constructing, painting in his head. Surely something dramatic, surely something thoroughly scandalous that will end in no less than piles of heartache and a hand covering his mouth, stomach dropped, throat tight, pain radiating everywhere. 

Perhaps he has become something of a hopeless romantic in the past few weeks, wishing for so much, only to end on the same dream of somebody taking his hands into their own and kissing them gently, lips against the knuckles of his thumbs, the curves of his palms, something he knows he surely will not receive. 

Perhaps he is simply not meant to have these things, though that does little to soothe the thrumming pain that he knows will begin soon enough. An ache that feels as if he’s been kicked, as if his organs are being twisted up inside him, and enter main different ways to say these things again and again, on and on. 

Perhaps he only hopes for Yoongi to call, to whisk him away and help soothe his head for the little one. 

Perhaps dreams are only made to cause disappointment, in more ways than one. 

But, of course, there is only a door between him and his stretch to freedom. Only a door between him and Jojo, only a door between him and space to run away. Despite this, it does little to comfort him, if only because he cannot help but remember how much space there is between him and Yoongi, how much space lies between them, how much he would have to run to meet him. 

That is under the impression that his hyung would even want to see him in the first place. Jeongguk wouldn’t blame him if Yoongi absolutely despised him, if you could believe it, though he would certainly wish for something less than hate. Anything less than that, he’ll take what he can get at this point. 

He rubs his hands together as his manager sits at his side, an uncomfortable feeling settling over him and only making him feel… dizzy. Incredibly dizzy, hot and flushed and like he’s going to be sick. That would really top off his day, that would really make everything feel alright. Not. 

Now is not the time to be sarcastic. With his breath hitching in his throat, Jeongguk tries to keep himself together, tries to ignore what feeling is pushing at the boundaries of his chest, pushing him in, keeping him unsteady, keeping him nervous. His stomach twists itself into knots, and he clears his throat, reaching to tug on the collar of his shirt, as if the material itself is tightening, choking him-- is it bad that he thinks maybe this is the time where he really does let himself go, where he really does fall apart?

“We need to speak to you regarding these pictures,” a voice starts, and Jeongguk keeps his gaze down to the floor, his head practically bowed. “We didn’t sanction these, and we didn’t schedule any activity for this day.”

He knows what they’re going to say, he knows what they’re going to ask of him before they even know it themselves. And he’s tired of it. So tired that he feels it weigh down on him like the heaviest weight in the whole world, something that he can simply never escape, no matter how hard he tries to, no matter how much he wants to. Constantly hovering over him like a cloud, a shadow attached to his ankles, dragging against the ground. Dragging him along with it. 

“That’s because it was a private engagement,” the words feel sticky on his tongue, uncomfortably so. Like honey or peanut butter, his tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth, and it is only with a great strain does he finally free himself. “I didn’t know I needed to schedule a meeting with a friend.”

“This friend was pictured with your daughter, do you not think that looks a little intimate?”

“Not particularly, you never care when Hoseok-hyung takes care of Jojo.”

There is a soft scoff in response to that, a sound he doesn’t particularly like the sound of. Not one bit. 

“Hoseok is a member of our company. Your relationship with one another has long since been established as purely platonic, whereas this person,” A deep breath, a sullen sound. “Nobody even knows who this person is. The nature of your relation or acquaintance is already being thoroughly questioned by everybody in the media and their mothers, for that sake.”

His tongue runs over his lips; he doesn’t quite know what to say, whatever response he has, whatever he manages to pull out he knows for a fact they will have an answer for his answer and eventually he will run out of them. And then he shall have to listen to some poorly-planned and barely-thought-out lecture that results in him feeling chastised and scolded, sent back to his room with his tail between his legs. It happens before, it happens every time, why should he be so surprised that this be the time it happens once again? 

“Am I no longer allowed friends?” He grumbles under his breath, prompting his manager to clear his throat. Jeongguk looks up. “He’s just a friend, from when I was at school. That’s all there is to it. He looked after Jojo because Hoseok-hyung was sick.”

“Why didn’t you inform us?”

“I didn’t think the care arrangements of my daughter were of such importance to you.”

He sounds a little bit more bitter than he would like, a little bit more bitter than he probably is. But the tension seeps from his frame uncontrollably, something that he cannot get rid of, no matter how much he wills himself to relax. It simply won’t happen. Which then, in turn, only makes him feel all the more tense. Anxious, even, simply waiting for whatever it is they are going to say to him. 

Silence lingers between them all, as if every party waits for the other to speak, to say something, to break whatever it is that keeps them from leaving. He knows he’s in trouble. Jeongguk knows he should be in more trouble than they’re expressing to him right now, and maybe that’s all the chance that he needs. Maybe he only needs this brief moment of hesitation that both his manager and the official hold between the two of them. 

“If you’re only friends, and you maintain that, it doesn’t matter--”

“But I don’t want to be just friends with him,” Jeongguk’s voice is a whisper at first, though its presence is enough, it’s all they need to silence themselves. He steels himself, ready for the half battle he is about to put himself through for the sake of something as simple as love. “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to date now? I think holding up pretences that I’ll only ever be for the fans pretty much got destroyed when I came out about Jojo.”

He receives splutters in response, and he wonders if he really has shocked them so much. Shocked them, or angered them. He’s not sure he wants to find out which.

“If I chose to date him, what could you really do?” He tests the waters, no doubt pushing his luck to see just how far he can really go; a risk move, if anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold hope that it will pay off. “What would you do?”

“We…” They struggle for an answer, something which, yes, makes him smile the slightest bit. The corners of his lips tug up slightly, and he rubs at his nose to try and hide the expression on his face. “You know your contract--”

“Jojo’s existence pretty much confirms the contract got broken,” he stands up slowly, squaring his shoulders. “If you want to kick me from the company after the supposed ‘hard work’ I do for you because I love somebody, then by all means do it. I have a kid to take care of, and you know what, I need to start taking care of myself too.”

His little speech ends there, his chest puffed up and his tongue running over his lips, finally feeling all sorts of confidence and courage, things he should have experienced so long ago. In fact, he’s not entirely sure if he can find a reason to explain why he hasn’t. 

“Jeongguk,” his manager looks between him and the company official, visibly biting on his tongue before he turns away. “I’m in favour of keeping Jeongguk as a member of the company over everything else. He has given us years, we may as well be lax with certain agreements now.”

Funny, it’s as if having his manager stand up for him also is the most surprising thing he’s seen all day. Maybe because it truly is. He looks to the official also, waiting with bated breath for some sort of response, waiting for either permission or punishment for the choice he only made in two seconds, a choice he’s been struggling with for almost forever, a choice he has now seemingly made under so much pressure that this is the response that comes out before he can really help it. 

Like those who drink alcohol telling the truth on what is on their mind, perhaps he is like that, only a different kind of intoxicated. 

That part doesn’t matter. It seems to have worked for him so far, why not continue to see just how far it will get him in the long run?

Apparently playing with fate has very quickly become a favourite pastime of his, though can you really blame him? Finally having some semblance of control is really going to his head, but he likes the way it makes him feel, he’s not about to fight that or push these feelings away. 

Truly, the only thing that stands in his way of happiness is the plague that is unrequited love. He can only hope this won’t be the case. He can only hope. 

“His name is Min Yoongi,” the sound of his name makes the other two in the room visibly tense, though surely he has no doubt it’s because they know who it is he is speaking about, who it is that he loves, and whatever affect that very person will have on this whole thing. “I love him.”

And loving him comes easy to Jeongguk. It comes so easy to him that he almost can’t believe he questioned his feelings to begin with; saying them out loud has only solidified them, and now he will scream it from the rooftops. He loves Min Yoongi, and whatever that does to him is something he will deal with. 

First, he just needs to lay down the foundations. Then, he can look at embracing those feelings with his entirety. 

“Yoongi?” His manager asks, and Jeongguk nods. 

“I’m taking the day off,” he says, that confidence still remaining in his voice. “We can speak about the change to my hours tomorrow, right?”

Once again, Jeongguk achieves only stammers and half-words in response, no doubt this new bout of confidence shocking those who have known him to be so quiet for years now. It’s only when he walks out of the room, his breath caught in his throat does he feel his knees go weak, and he finds himself almost falling apart on the spot. He feels fragile. He feels like the slightest push might make him break, shatter across the ground into a million pieces, no hope left for him, no hope at all. 

The door clicks shut, and sure enough, before he can even take a breath, the sound of feet sprint toward him, and with mere seconds passing Jojo is whisked into his arms and held so very tightly to his chest. “Hey, baby,” he greets her, smiling as she clings to him. Already a little more relieved at having such a familiar person, somebody he treasures more than anything, close by and in his sight and in his arms. As if she is in danger every time he leaves; must be a parent thing, especially at this young age. “You ready to go home?”

“Is Yoonie-hyung at home?”

Of course, she is the one to drive the knife into his chest and twist, only reminding him further of what he could have lost, what he is looking for, what he hopes he gets back in return. 

Running his tongue over his lips, Jeongguk manages a smile, adjusting his grip on her that she rests a little more on his hip. “We should go see him, shouldn’t we?”

“We can?” She asks, her fingers busy tugging on his collar, her lips pressed together and her round eyes fixating on her father’s. “I want to!”

Jeongguk nods his head, giving Hoseok a wave, inviting him to join the conversation. “We can go and see him,” as Hoseok approaches, he turns to him instead. “Thanks for watching her, hyung.”

“No worries, I feel a lot better.”

“I’m glad.”

There is a pause, a hesitation that lingers between them all before Hoseok squares his shoulders back. “You going to get Yoongi back?”

He laughs slightly. “I hope so. You say ‘back’ like I had him to begin with.”

“Didn’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow. “Don’t you know what you mean to him?”

Does he know what he means to Yoongi?

...does Yoongi know what he means to him?

Supposedly the simplest of questions have thrown him off course entirely, knocking him for six, and he stares at Hoseok for a minute, trying to find the words for what must surely be the fiftieth time that day. He only looks on for a moment before he finds himself breathless once again. 

“I didn’t,” his voice comes out as the quietest sound, and he adjusts his hold on Jojo once again. “I’ll ask him. I’ll ask him, hyung.”

Hoseok smiles with his lips pressed together, a very slight twinge of happiness in his eyes that only grows as Jeongguk turns on his heel, and leaves the building, off to sort out a different kind of mess. One that ultimately means so much more to him. 

And he truly hopes Jeongguk succeeds this time. 

The courage that has built in his chest wavers ever so slightly as he gets closer to Yoongi’s apartment, as he gets closer to finding out the conclusion to this story. He feels… strange. He feels more anxious than ever before, and he cannot stop the way his grip tightens on Jojo’s hand as they push through the entryway, reaching the hallway, knocking on Yoongi’s door. The sound echoes almost ominously throughout the space around them, and he waits, unconsciously holding his breath until his heart is hammering so reverently inside of his chest, trying to keep him alive by reminding him of something he must do first. 

Deep breaths, beating heart, hand in his own. Focusing on these things help him keep his guts together, helps him keep his courage. Jojo’s hair in bunches, the way she shifts her weight from her left foot to her right, the particularly wood of the door that stands between him and Yoongi, one of his shoes having its laces untied, little things that mean not a lot in the long run, but mean so much more right now. 

There is a slight shuffling that sounds from the other side of the door, and the lock clicks; it opens within a moment, and soon enough, Jeon Jeongguk is faced with Min Yoongi. Yoongi who looks absolutely exhausted, who looks as if he’s just woken from a long sleep, who looks at Jeongguk like he’s holding the whole world in his palm. 

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation. He knows he needs to say something, and he has so much that he wants to say, but it’s all a matter of where he begins. How does he go about this, is there even a correct way?

“Hi,” he manages at first, his voice catching on his breath, his hands shaking the slightest bit; he’s idly aware of the way Jojo tugs on his hand gently before her presence is gone, her hand out of his, and her arms wrapping around the legs of her now apparent favourite ‘hyung’. 

He really should work on teaching her the right honourifics, huh…

“Hey,” Yoongi says back, his voice also sounding a little off, vaguely hoarse. “What are you doing here, are you ok?”

Jeongguk nods, biting on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I need to speak to you, if that’s alright.”

“We came visit,” Jojo giggles, her smile bright and so reminiscent of her father’s that Yoongi cannot help but smile back, a certain warmth flooding his chest before he looks back up. 

“You guys can come in, it’s a little messy right now though.”

After all, he really did just only wake up not that long ago, content with sleeping this whole situation away. Apparently, fate had other plans for him. 

Jojo, still thoroughly attached to Yoongi, clinging to him as if he may disappear without a moment’s notice, stumbles in as he gently pulls her into the apartment, Jeongguk close by and following intently. Following along like there’s nothing else to do, nothing else he can do as he waits for one of them to breach the silence and say whatever it is that clearly hangs between them. There is undeniably something there, something so obvious to those who watch on, but perhaps it’s just them that need to find it in themselves to speak. Regardless of the risk. 

“Hyung,” Jeongguk tries. He makes an attempt which is surely better than anything else. He runs his tongue over his lips again, rubbing his hands down his thighs to try and rid them of the stickiness and the clamminess that has formulated there. “I don’t really know how to start.”

“Me neither,” Yoongi clears his throat, taking Jojo to the couch and putting on a show for her, though remaining near her side as she holds his hand so tightly. He turns to face Jeongguk though, his features soft. As if all the fight has left his frame now, and there is nothing he wants to fight against. Accepting his fate, accepting what awaits him. “But… we want the same thing, don’t we?”

It’s a question that lingers, but he nods. Hoping that he gave the right answer, anyway. He can only hope right now, that’s all, but that’s fine. Hoping is good. Hope is good. Everything is fine. 

Everything is fine. 

“I think so,” Jeongguk answers after a while, wanting to give some sort of verbal response as well as the slight nod of his head. “If we both want… I suppose--”

“One another?”

It sounds so strange to say it aloud, to hear it aloud also. As if it’s such a foreign concept, something the two of them wouldn’t have considered until placing themselves in this position had prompted these feelings, this emotion that has built up like the largest wave ready to wash over them, crushing them and pulling them to the depths. Idly, he’s not sure he would mind. 

“Yes,” the word is harder to choke out than he thought it would be. “That’s it.”

Because he does want Yoongi. He wants Yoongi more than he can really explain, he wants Yoongi in every way he would be allowed to have. He wants to wake up with him every morning and go to sleep with him every night, he wants to come home to him and kiss him goodbye when he goes to work, when he goes grocery shopping. He wants to see Jojo be happy, he wants to see Yoongi be happy, there’s too much for him to want that maybe he’s… being selfish. Maybe he’s being selfish wanting all of this. 

“What do you want, hyung?” He asks, reaching very slowly, very gingerly to take Yoongi’s only free hand into his own. Yoongi accepts it openly, instantly, his fingers curling around his and he looks at the way their fingers intertwine. 

But Yoongi takes a deep breath before he speaks, squeezing his hand back gently. “I want to stay with you,” he answers, his gaze down. Drawn to their hands still, unable to look away, unable to stop the way he wants to bring them to his chest and hold them so very close, treasured and protected, like this one moment is one of the most important times he’s ever had. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” Jeongguk feels as if a weight has been lifted, he tries to stifle the way his smile is almost forcing its way onto his features, and he exhales hurriedly. “I want the same, I really do. I…” A sharp inhale this time. “I love you, hyung. I always have.”

Yoongi grasps his hands almost desperately this time now, his fingers digging into the soft skin of his arm, and he nods rapidly, still choking on the words, as if his mouth is stuck shut with the sweetness Jeongguk is going on and on with. 

“But what about Jojo?” Yoongi asks, the only thing he says after Jeongguk’s apparent confession. “What if she doesn’t--?”

“Hyung, she adores you,” Jeongguk has to bite back his laughter. “She kept saying how much she wanted to come and see you and see where you live, she wanted to come and see you and spend more time with you.” If anything, he cannot believe that this train of thought has run through Yoongi’s head. “If she’s your only… reluctance to be with me, please believe that she would probably be overjoyed to spend more time with you.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. “I just know you have to put her first and I would never ask you to, to not do that.”

“I wouldn’t, but you know that.”

“I do.”

To many, that would sound strange. It would sound abrasive, but right on cue, their eyes meet once again, and all of that silliness fades away, like smoke dissipating around them, leaving cinders in its wake. Except these cinders are not merely glowing ashes, but instead a burning fire once again. Burning so fiercely, like when they were still in high school, at the piano once again. In the rooms closed off from students and faculty, abandoned with papers still strewn on the floor and graffiti on the blackboard, only their piano left amongst the desks and chairs. Their place, somewhere they hide, somewhere only they know. 

“Is it weird that this doesn’t feel real?” Yoongi whispers, the two of them so very close. So close that they could almost kiss right here, right now. His hands are clammy, Jojo still vaguely tugging on him to try and bring him down to the couch while she watches tv, as if she’s trying to bring her father and her ‘hyung’ to that same position as the first night. When they fell asleep holding hands, waking up in the morning curled around her frame as if she is the magnet bringing them together. 

When he thinks about it, she almost is. It was because she needed to be taken care of that they found one another again, after so long apart. Funny how things like this work out. 

“Yoonie-hyung,” Jojo calls his name, her voice pitching the slightest bit at the end to turn into a whine, clearly unimpressed with this lack of attention she is receiving from both her father and her ‘hyung’. The two adults turn to her and she presses her lips together, looking so confident and fierce in her position as a four-year-old determined to get her way; she suddenly pouts. “Sit.”

Jeongguk scoffs with laughter, hiding it by turning off to the side and Yoongi joins that sound, dropping down onto the couch with a loud ‘oof!’ “Sorry, kiddo,” he rubs the top of her head playfully. “I’m here now, what would you like?”

Jojo hums, looking up to the ceiling as if she is contemplating the greatest question ever asked. Perhaps it is, to her. After all, now with Yoongi and Jeongguk at her side, she doesn’t really have much else to wish for; she has the two people in her lives who she knows would readily spoil her, attention and otherwise. 

“‘Nother movie?” She asks. “We can… get lots and lots of snacks!”

“Oh, I see,” Jeongguk hums, nodding his head ever so slowly. As if he is understanding entirely some great philosophical discovery. “I think Yoonie-hyung and I can stretch to ordering some food, don’t you agree?”

Yoongi beams immediately, nodding his head as Jeongguk sits down on the couch, his arm stretching across the back of it, his fingers lightly brushing against Yoongi’s shoulders. Stealing touches already, like they’re drawn together instead of just being able to choose. He’s not arguing though, he doesn’t want to with this. He would much rather remain here for as long as he can. “Absolutely,” he agrees so easily. 

“You could always think of it as a first date?” The younger of the two adults suggests with the slightest raise of his eyebrows, a subtle smirk settling on his features. “With a guest, of course.”

“Well then, that definitely sounds like fun,” Yoongi laughs, plucking the television remote up from the couch and immediately clicking away. “Only if you’re buying the snacks, though.”

“Naturally.”

And while Jeongguk taps away so quickly on his phone, ordering them food as Yoongi and Jojo pick a movie, he can’t help but think that this certainly did end up working out in his favour. 

If only he had the confidence to say this earlier. If only he had the confidence to do this earlier, perhaps everything would have been a lot better. He would have felt a lot happier. 

But that doesn’t matter now. He has Jojo and he has Yoongi, he can’t really ask for much more, right? Some things only happen when they’re supposed to happen. Not a moment sooner and not a moment later. He should have just simply trusted that everything would have worked out to begin with. 

A happy ending is close now. It shouldn’t take them too long to travel over the final hurdle and make their way to whatever horizon is surely reserved for them to walk into; considering the fact they haven’t even kissed yet - at least, as far as being out of school goes - Jeongguk doesn’t quite feel safe and secure in the way everything is going to go. He’s not far from it though, due to the fact there surely isn’t a whole lot left they will have to go through in order to be together, but he would rather not dive headfirst into some sort of deluded optimism. That will only end in more pain than he figures he can handle, and he’s not about to throw everything that has been presented to him by getting too comfortable, giving up the fight before it is well and truly won. 

Because while Jeongguk had been open to his company about wanting to date Yoongi, wanting to be with him, there are still a few more loose ends to tie up before he truly can. 

He would rather be safe than sorry. After all, who knows what’s going to happen after he presses send on this twitter post. 

It’s nothing too controversial, though there is no doubt that some people will find themselves furious at the sight of the image he intends to post. It’s pretty simple, and he can only hope that they take it that way also. 

It’s of Yoongi. Jojo sat on his lap while the two of them nap, some cookie-cutter Disney movie playing in front of them from that night they confessed, the night they spent together at Yoongi’s apartment all bundled up on the couch. The lights low and the blankets all pooled around them, Jeongguk’s hand visibly in the shot as holding onto Yoongi’s, their fingers all intertwined. Holding onto one another, clinging almost despite the sleepiness evident in the photo. And he wants to post it. Wants to post it on his social media - his public figure one - as a way to cement his choice. He wants to be with Yoongi. There is no debate around that. 

But simply put, he is still a little cautious of the results. Of the aftermath to whatever choice he makes, of this one decision that he puts himself through, of whatever backlash he may face. What Yoongi may face. 

On the other hand, he knows his fans, he knows his friends, and he knows they will support him. He knows they will support his choices, and surely it is only their opinions that matter, that should matter at the very least. 

He wants, his thumb hovering over the ‘Tweet’ button highlighted in blue, the caption a very vague indication that he loves the two people in the image - two very different kinds of love, but very prominent, very strong loves - and that he wants to show his love. Display it proudly, vehemently, brightly. He just has to wait for him to wake up. 

When Yoongi awakes, he’ll ask him. See if he has any immediate protests to this, see if he thinks it’s a good idea. He can’t say for certain, he wouldn’t like to guess. He wouldn’t like to push his idea of what Yoongi wants without actually asking him first. 

Maybe he’s just hoping his hyung will make the decision for him, take it from his shoulders and have responsibility for that. 

“Hyung?” He starts off with a whisper, running his tongue over his lips and running his fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, tracing over the dips of his knuckles, trying his best to pull him so gently, so sweetly from his sleep; he is met with the soundest groan of protest before dark eyes crack open, still hazy, still willing to dive back into whatever dream he had been in. “Hey.”

Yoongi notices the weight in his lap before he reaches for Jeongguk, as if he wants to nuzzle in close, curl up next to him properly and sleep just that little bit more. “Mm,” sounds deep from within his throat. 

“I need to speak to you quickly,” Jeongguk whispers, leaning in to press his lips to Yoongi’s ear, his breath warm and his own voice vaguely deeper than usual, something that makes Yoongi shiver on the spot. He takes a deep breath, before he receives a nod in response.

“Alright,” Yoongi mumbles. “Help me with…?”

There is the slightest nod to Jojo’s direction, the way she sleeps so easily on his lap, and Jeongguk pulls himself off the couch, his joints cracking and his limbs stretching in the process, immediately moving to scoop her up into his hold. She whines, shifting in his grasp before he lays her back down on the couch where he had been laying down just moments previous. As soon as she’s settled, and Yoongi is up, he reaches to grasp his hand and pull him away. 

They don’t go far, the two of them both sleepy and drowsy, Jeongguk considerably less so, but they slip into the hallway, shutting the door as quietly as they can. Then, just like that, it’s only the two of them. Nobody else, nothing else, no other distractions or responsibilities in those few moments. Jeongguk feels his own chest tighten considerably, his eyes drawn to the way Yoongi holds himself up against the wall. It’s the most simple thing in the world, it’s nothing more than just his shoulder holding his weight, but perhaps it’s because this is the first time they’ve had a moment alone since confessing how they feel that it feels strangely intimate. More intimate than he would ever explain, more than he would ever be able to at the very least. 

“I wanted to post something,” he starts off slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek, only feeling the slightest bit of nervous rather than being on what is likely the edge of a nervous breakdown. “But it’s got you and I wanted to make sure that it was alright with you before I posted.”

Yoongi rubs at his eyes, nodding his head. “What did you wanna post?”

“This,” he shows Yoongi the photo straight away, watching as his expression softens right on cue. “It’s you two, I wanted to post it on the idol twitter.”

“It’s really sweet,” Yoongi beams, looking up at him. “You can post it if you want, if you think it’s a good idea.”

“I actually wanted to know if you think… if you think it’s a good idea to be so open about your presence in my life, if you want to be in it…”

“I thought we had already established that,” Yoongi is still smiling, however. “Jeongguk, you can post it if you want me to be in your life in… that way.”

“ That way,” he cannot stop the way he giggles slightly, rubbing at his nose. “Sounds funny.” But he steps closer, just the slightest bit, closer to Yoongi as he rests against the wall until there is barely a foot of distance between them. So close that he could kiss him if he wanted to. 

Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head. “Of course you find that funny,” he tilts his head up, his fingers idly moving to wrap his fingers in the hem of Jeongguk’s shirt, bringing him even closer until the younger has his hand rest against the wall. Leaning over him. So close that their noses brush against one another, so close that they’re finally having the kiss they were supposed to have days ago. Days and days and days ago, back when things had been a whole lot more complicated, back when everything was only just starting up again. 

As Yoongi leans up, Jeongguk leans down, and their lips meet in the middle, pulling kisses from one another. They pull one another close, they gasp softly into one another’s mouths, and it really feels like they have reached the penultimate moment, the last scene before the end, the last part before they tumble off into whatever forever they are granted, whatever happy ending they wish to have. Their kiss ends up being more smiles and half-giggles but it is something they both love, something they both appreciate, something neither of them truly wish to go without. 

More kisses, more and more. Never wanting to stop, a certain ache in their guts. A desire to remain together, a desire to stay, a need to. Never wanting to part again. Neither Yoongi nor Jeongguk would have expected such emotions to flare up, not right now, not with each other, or perhaps that is only what they tell themselves. To convince themselves this isn’t something they could have had earlier, easier, back when they first felt that want for one another. 

Jeongguk presses Yoongi even firmer against the wall, his hand moving to cup his cheek and hold his face in his palm, Yoongi’s own hands grasping at his waist to keep him against him, pressed against one another as if any distance between them now may surely kill them. 

It leaves them both breathless by the time they part, so close that Yoongi can see each shade of brown in his eyes, each eyelash as they frame those colours, each freckle on his skin, every part of him. Jeongguk can see the way Yoongi’s lips curl into a petal-like shape, the way his cheeks vaguely colour pink, the way his breath comes out slowly, harshly, his chest trembling. And for a moment, he finds he’s unable to look away. He doesn’t want to. Jeongguk doesn’t want to look away ever again. 

To think all of this is real, it still surprises him. Just a little bit. He thinks it will never fully sink in, but that’s almost what he wants. To remain this astounded that his love is returned. 

“You can post it,” Yoongi whispers, his voice gentle. “You can post the picture. I… want you to.”

That’s all Jeongguk needs in confirmation. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls his phone out and unlocks it, the app still open and the tweet he drafted still saved. All it takes is a single press of his screen before it is sent off into the world, posted on his official account with no ask, no permission, nothing from his company but only himself. That’s it. 

“All done.”

“What a ceremonious way to announce to everybody that I love you.”

Jeongguk finds himself surging forward to kiss him again, the mere confession of those three words once again making him fall even more in love with his hyung. And kissing him is the only way he can think to express it right now. Words go amiss, lost in his head, losing every semblance of sanity and coherence and cohesion that he had before. All gone, wiped away. And Yoongi, well, he eagerly reciprocates. His hands cupping Jeongguk’s face this time, his back arching toward him, more soft laughter on their breath. Both of them melting into another kiss, both of them unable to stop themselves. Falling apart into one another.

“We should get breakfast…” Jeongguk mumbles, though he makes no immediate move to break away. “Hyung.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi giggles one again, his smile all gummy and his eyes half-closed, sinking into his embrace. “Jojo will need feeding.”

“You’ve adapted to her schedule so quickly,” he comments idly, arms wrapping around Yoongi. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m a very impressive person, Jeon Jeongguk.”

It’s said teasingly, but he can’t find it in himself to argue against his hyung when he says so. Yoongi smiles as Jeongguk pulls away, their embrace dissolving into nothing, and Yoongi moves away from the wall; their fingers remain intertwined, the two of them not quite willing to let one another go entirely.

“I’ll cook, alright?” Yoongi says as they open the door. “Do you wanna wake her up?”

And just like that, they slip into something that they feel like they’ve been in for years, like this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. Not with Jojo, not in Yoongi’s apartment, not in the way that they are this time. This time is new. This whole thing is new. 

Jeongguk drops down onto the couch, running his hands through Jojo’s hair to try and wake her up slowly. “Jojo,” he calls her name, not wanting to shock her or make her panic too much upon opening her eyes. “Breakfast is cooking, sweetheart. Come on.”

She groans as she stretches, limbs above her head and her face scrunching up as she does so. Not wanting to wake, it seems. Yoongi can’t blame her, not really, he loves his sleep too and considering how much it’s been disturbed lately, he would do anything for another nap. With Jeongguk, perhaps. 

Thoughts like that feel like they come out of left field, out of nowhere, until he remembers he’s shared two separate couches with the other man, hands tightly wrapped and bodies curled up also. 

Yoongi can’t help the way he feels, that much has been established. He has no control over the way his heart thrums for Jeongguk, the way he want to remain at his side always, even now, even mere metres away. He’s so close yet that slightest bit of distance feels like so much. 

He’s just on the other side of the room. He’s just with Jojo. He’s not far, he’s here with him now, but maybe that desire to be close to him will never fade. Not even the slightest bit. He’s had nothing but loud emotions for the past few days now, it’s almost strange. 

And then there’s this. This is his apartment, it’s his home, yet it’s never felt so complete as to have Jeongguk and Jojo both here. Having them here feels unreal, feels strangely perfect, feels like this is where he is supposed to belong. Not in this place in particular, not like it’s this specific apartment with this couch and this television and these pictures on the wall, but rather the two here that remain with him. They belong here too, belong with him. He didn’t know such a feeling as this existed. Now it’s like he’s being flooded with it, sending each of his systems into overdrive. 

“Hey,” he calls to Jeongguk over the length of the room, attracting the attention of two pairs of doe-like eyes. Round, staring into him, complemented by matching bunny smiles. “What do you fancy for breakfast, by the way?”

There is a general hum, Jojo rubbing at her cheek as she tries to think what is surely the best breakfast in all of history, the best breakfast to kickstart what is surely about to be a lifetime of breakfasts shared. Together, over one table. Like it should have been from the beginning. 

It’s a week later when Jeongguk makes another post on twitter. Once again, something centred on the family that he has managed to make for himself. Something he is grateful for entirely. The first post had generated so much support, had led to so many people reaching out after years saying how they’re entirely unsurprised the two of them have taken this long to confess emotions and feelings that have clearly been with them for the better part of their lives. At least, likened to a concept of love at first sight, a fairy tale that took its while to get there but finally reaching their end. 

It had worked out. All of their stress and panic, in the end had really been for nothing. Well, perhaps not for nothing, but for the happiness they are surely owed at this point in their lives. 

Jeongguk, notorious for not thinking of himself and not caring for himself, not putting himself first in anything, decides that he deserves this. He deserves this happiness, he deserves to wake up next to the person who loves him and the person he loves in return. It’s such a simple thing, but he deserves it. He’s convinced himself. After all, doesn’t he get to have love like everybody else?

“You think so loudly,” a hand runs through his hair, the familiar sound of his hyung making him almost melt on the spot, sighing so very softly as he wishes to curl into whatever embrace Yoongi offers. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

“A million things,” Jeongguk answers honestly, turning in his chair, an action that is immediately responded with Yoongi sliding into his lap, arms weaving around his shoulders, palms against his upper back, and his own hands wrap over Yoongi’s legs, holding him tight. Keeping him safe. “Most of them are about you.”

“Am I that irresistible?” Yoongi teases.

Jeongguk laughs. “Naturally.”

He is met with a bright smile, all gums and teeth and puffy cheeks, half-closed eyes, and he cannot ignore the way his heart skips in his chest at the sight of it, at the reminder that he will get to see it for the foreseeable future at the very least. Yoongi’s fingers twist into the ends of his hair, and he finds himself leaning into the touch, humming and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. 

“You’re alright, though?” Yoongi asks another question, his voice soft and dropping to just above a whisper. 

Jeongguk hums, nodding his head just a little before he sits up a little more. “I’m good, hyung. Promise.”

The room is lit only with a warm lamp on the side of his desk, on the right side of his monitors that display the music programs and half a tab of a document with lyrics he’s coming up with. The couch behind them is splayed with blankets and pillows and cushions, where Yoongi had been all bundled up as they try to come up with Jeongguk’s new song. 

It’s been a while since Yoongi has worked on a project such as this. It’s been a while since he’s been in a studio; the last time, it had felt like he was being crushed by the walls around him, trying to force himself to work on something he just didn’t have the love and the passion for he had at the beginning. With the added pressure from managers and fans and company officials who, at the time, only viewed him as some extra digits to their monthly income, he couldn’t really handle it anymore. 

So, he dipped. Gone without a word, without a need to explain himself. He didn’t realise he would miss it as much as he does though, as much as he did. Being with Jeongguk in the studio now, Jojo staying with Hoseok and Namjoon overnight - some sort of movie night tradition that happens every fortnight, he’s come to learn - which means there is no pressure here. There’s nothing here that made him hate the occupation in the first place. 

“How is it going?”

“You mean since you decided to fall asleep?” Jeongguk beams at him, his thumb running over Yoongi’s bottom lip. “With your mouth open and all curled up and--”

“Alright, alright,” there is a pout he receives in response. Puffy cheeks and all, eyes staring into Jeongguk’s with his hand over his mouth. “Watch yourself, Jeon.”

He raises his eyebrows. Almost as if he’s challenging him a little. His hands move to grasp at Yoongi’s hips, directing his attention a little more to him. Fingertips digging into his skin, holding him as if he may disappear if his grip isn’t grounding him, tying him to him; Jeongguk would never let Yoongi go if that was an option, but unfortunately, such a thing doesn’t exist. There is almost always a waver, an end. Only this time, he’s just a little bit more confident, more secure. After all, Yoongi told him, he’ll always be there. Who is he to argue against his hyung?

He wouldn’t want to, even if he could. 

“Always,” he answers back when the hand sinks away from his mouth, his hands on the dip of Yoongi’s back, pulling him even closer so their chests press against one another. Yoongi rests his hands on his shoulders. “We should really be working, hyung.”

“Mm,” he smiles. “We should.”

But instead of being responsible, instead of doing what they should be doing and what they’re being paid to do, Jeongguk leans up a little as Yoongi leans down, kissing one another and meeting exactly halfway. Yoongi chuckles breathlessly, his nose scrunching, and Jeongguk holds onto him tightly. Fingers twist into shirts, chests trembling, teeth sink into lips, breath catches in throat and when they break away, both Yoongi’s and Jeongguk’s faces are flushed, as if they coloured in the apples of their cheeks with bright red crayon, blending in with kissed lips and hands itching to touch more. 

They don’t rush, though. After all, they have the rest of forever to spend with one another.