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Rain is falling from the sky in buckets. Jungkook is careful not to slip on the wet rocks as he follows the winding mountain path uphill. His shoes squelch with every step he takes, and the rub of wet socks on wet skin has left his feet covered in blisters.
Glancing down at his battered black sneakers, he misses the familiar weight of his military boots. As much as he despised being forced to march for hours on end just for the sake of it, at least his feet had been dry and protected. Now, he’s soaked down to his underwear. His body has long given up on shivering, and his mind has gone numb.
How many hours has it been since he left the base? How many kilometers has he walked since the bus dropped him off?
He fights the urge to fish the compass out of his pocket. He’s scared the relentless rain will damage it. It’s a cheap little thing, stolen from a convenience store during his leave a couple of months ago. He slipped it into his bag when the clerk wasn’t looking, too busy scrolling on her phone to notice him making off with an 8 million won compass. Compared to his military grade one, it’s a mere children’s toy, but he was too scared to rob the Korean army, so shitty compass and printed out map it is.
A rock gives way under his feet, and he slips on its wet surface. He curses under his breath as he falls into the mud. Again.
Why couldn’t Yoongi live in Seoul? Or Busan? Some place other than the middle of nowhere? Jungkook took one train and two buses, but they could only take him so far. The rest of the journey into the mountains he has to do on foot.
He grits his teeth and heaves himself up, ignoring the painful twinge of his tired muscles. His entire body aches. The longer he walks, the more pointedly he senses the threat of despair. With every stumble, it gains ground on him, and by now, he can almost feel its fingers wrapped around his throat.
It’s tempting to give up. He could find a little spot underneath a tree and sink into sleep. Surely the cold would take him before morning.
He shakes his head, trying to chase away his somber thoughts. He clenches his numb hands into fists and musters up some determination. A glance up reveals that the sun is barely hovering above the horizon. It can’t be much further now.
He knows he must look insane, chasing after a man he barely knows so deep into the forest, but if this is how he goes, so be it. Military service was where Jungkook’s path ended. He’d considered throwing in the towel even before enlisting, but he hadn’t been ready to give up. He didn’t want to die. He just had nowhere to go.
They’d only met a couple of weeks before Yoongi’s discharge, but it was enough to rekindle something inside Jungkook that he’d thought died long ago: hope.
Its warmth ignites in his chest the moment he spots a little cabin in the distance. Shrouded by the curtain of rain and the swiftly setting sun, it bears little resemblance to the picture Yoongi showed him all those months ago, but even from this far away, he can pick out its pink walls. Surely this has to be the one? He can’t imagine there are many pink cabins in the Sobaek mountains.
Invigorated by the sight of his destination, Jungkook picks up his pace. His heart starts to race in his chest, all his aches, his hunger, the cold suddenly acerbated by the promise of relief.
Except there’s no car parked in the driveway. Jungkook worries his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting the dread that has been trailing him since morning. Panic seizes his chest at the sight of peeling paint and broken floorboards. Has this cabin been abandoned? Did Yoongi move after he gave Jungkook his address?
His gaze scans the home desperately, in search of signs of life. He spots a fishing rod perched against one of the walls and a pot of begonias that are struggling through the stormy weather but have clearly been tended to. He breathes a sigh of relief. The cabin may be a little dilapidated, but it’s clearly lived in. Reassured, Jungkook sinks down onto the porch. He’s waited for over a year. He can wait a little longer until Yoongi comes home.
His aching muscles grow stiff while he watches the rain drops drip down the mountain ash leaves. Lulled by their pitter patter on the metal roof, it’s so tempting to close his eyes. Fatigue keeps pulling at his limbs, at his eyelids. Drenched with rain, everything just feels so heavy.
The sound of an engine startles him awake. Before he realises what’s going on, the porch is bathed in light. Jungkook perks up. Is Yoongi finally home?
He blinks when the headlights shut off, trying to make out the face of the person behind the steering wheel. His stomach drops with disappointment. Even all the way out here, even after a year, he can tell it’s not Yoongi. Is this the wrong cabin after all?
He tenses when the man gets out of the car, begging whatever entity is out there that he didn’t make a mistake in coming here. The man is visibly startled by the sight of Jungkook sitting on his porch, but he fetches an umbrella from the car door and heads towards him.
“Good evening.” He greets Jungkook politely, his voice gentle. His face is serious but kind, a sort of unspoken softness to him.
Some of Jungkook’s anxiety dissipates. This must be Seokjin, right?
“Hi,” Jungkook rasps, muffling a cough in his sleeve. “I’m–I–Yoongi-hyung said–”
The man saves him from his stammering. “You’re Jungkook.” He says it in an exhale, like a revelation, like the sun peeking past the clouds and showering you with warmth.
“I’m Jungkook,” he confirms, relieved.
“Yoongi said you might come.”
Jungkook’s heart clenches, tears prickling his eyes. They’ve been expecting him. When has that ever happened before?
They’re quiet for a moment, both of them enthralled by awe, until the man snaps out of it. “Forgive me, I’m being a terrible host. My name is Seokjin. Please, come inside, Jungkook-ssi. You must be freezing.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen at the unhesitating hospitality. So this is Seokjin. He’s just as handsome as Yoongi claimed, but there’s an elegance to him that his drill sergeant hadn’t mentioned. Seokjin seems regal almost, out of place in the old cabin despite the ease with which he slips his house key into the front door.
Hit by a sudden bout of insecurity, Jungkook hunches his shoulders. With his wet hair sticking to his face, it’s impossible not to feel like a drowned rat standing next to Seokjin. His shoes make an awful sound when he toes them off on the mat by the entrance. He follows Seokjin into the house, conscious of the way he’s dripping on the floor.
“I’m sorry no one was home when you arrived,” Seokjin says, heading deeper into the cabin. “You must have come a long way. I was doing our weekly grocery run. It takes quite some time, as you can imagine.”
Jungkook traipses behind Seokjin on his wet socks, trying to ignore the trail of footprints he leaves behind. He looks back at the front door, unsure. “Shouldn’t we carry your groceries inside first?”
Seokjin waves him off. “Don’t worry, that can wait. Let’s get you warmed up first, alright?”
Jungkook dips his head, the gesture somewhere between a nod and a small bow. He’s a little dazed by Seokjin’s easy-going attitude. Shouldn’t he be more surprised at the sight of a soaked stranger on his doorstep?
Seokjin momentarily disappears into one of the rooms. When he steps back out, he’s holding a salmon-coloured towel which he nudges into Jungkook’s hands.
“Thank you,” Jungkook says. The towel is soft and fluffy when he dabs it at his forehead. He’s not sure where to go from there. His clothes are soaked; there’s not much he can do without stripping them off. Unsure, he clutches the towel tightly, his pruney fingers white-knuckling the fabric.
Seokjin watches him with an easy smile. “What would you like first, food or a shower?”
Jungkook blinks owlishly. 18 months of military service doesn’t prepare you for making decisions.
Seokjin’s eyes wrinkle into crescents as he takes pity on his guest. “How about a shower first? I’ll get something started for you. How does galchi-jorim sound?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen at the offer. It’s been ages since he last had a home-cooked meal. “Ah, there’s no need too—”
Seokjin splutters comically, and Jungkook’s lips twitch into a shy smile. “Nonsense, it’s no bother. Let me fetch you some dry clothes to wear.”
He waits in the hallway while Seokjin wanders off, fiddling nervously with the towel. Seokjin reappears with a small stack of clothes in his hands.
“These might be a little big on you, but I think Yoongi’s would be too small. We’ll find you something better later, okay?”
Before Jungkook can respond, Seokjin directs him into the bathroom. It’s surprisingly cosy, its sleek white interior livened up by a bunch of random collectibles and colourful fancy products. Seokjin even turns on the warm water for Jungkook before slipping out of the room.
Jungkook stares at the closed door for a moment, stunned. How can Seokjin be so nonchalant about this? He wonders how much Yoongi told Seokjin about him for Seokjin to be so casual about Jungkook’s arrival. The night before Yoongi’s discharge, he told Jungkook there was a bed waiting for him in the Sobaek mountains if he wanted it. But Jungkook’s phone broke over half a year ago, so he had no way to let Yoongi know that he was actually taking him up on his offer at all, let alone today.
He shakes his head to snap out of his daze. He has to get moving before the last dregs of adrenaline fade and fatigue settles in for real. The bathroom fills up with steam while he peels off his wet clothes. He flinches at the sight of his ankles, the skin raw where his sneakers rubbed against it. He’ll have to ask Seokjin for some bandaids later. His toes sting when he steps into the shower, the contrast in temperatures too much for his body to take. Startled, he hops back out. He’s a bit more careful getting back in, taking his time to acclimate to the sudden heat.
A heavy sigh escapes him when he’s finally standing underneath the stream of hot water. He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment to bask in the luxury of Yoongi’s fancy rain shower. Despite its somewhat dilapidated exterior, the cabin seems well-renovated on the inside. But even if ithe hadn’t been, any private bathroom is an upgrade from the shared ones in the military.
Jungkook’s stomach growls painfully, pulling him from his thoughts. The reminder of his gnawing hunger is enough to spur him into action, and he finally goes to wash his hair. There are several bottles lined up in the shower basket, and he scans them for the right label. When he spots the shampoo, he opens the lid with a soft click. He takes a whiff and barely suppresses a whine. Rosemary mint, the bottle reads. It smells divine.
For once, Jungkook’s grateful for his poorly grown-out buzzcut. His fingers still feel weird, and it’s hard to work the product into his scalp. As much as he misses his shoulder length hair, he doesn’t think he would’ve managed to wash it properly right now.
Shampoo rinsed off, he lets his hand hover over the other bottles in the shower, tempted by the conditioner. He goes for the shower gel instead. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Seokjin’s hospitality by wasting his expensive products on his short hair.
Once he’s done washing up, it’s hard to drag himself out of the shower. The heat has mellowed his stiff body, and his muscles have turned into jelly. Slowly, he curls his wet hands into fists and reminds himself of the dinner waiting a couple of doors away. It’s enough motivation to get him to shut off the water and wrap himself into a towel.
Drying his hair only takes a minute — another advantage of a soldier’s haircut — and he swiftly moves on to the clothes Seokjin found him. There’s an old Coldplay shirt, a lilac sweater, matching sweats, and a pair of underwear. To Jungkook’s delight, he finds neon pink fluffy socks at the bottom of the pile. He slips them on first, curling his toes in happiness. The cold has seeped too deep into his bones to be chased away by a single shower, but he at least feels cosy in the outfit Seokjin picked out for him.
When Jungkook steps back out into the hallway, he’s immediately met by the smell of galchi-jorim. He follows his nose to the kitchen, where he finds Seokjin stirring a pot on the stove.
“Ah, there you are!” Seokjin greets him enthusiastically. “Right on time. Help me set the table, will you?”
Jungkook ducks his head bashfully, making his way over to Seokijn to accept the plates and cutlery he’s holding out. Jungkook puts them on the wooden kitchen table while Seokjin fishes a bunch of banchan out of the fridge.
“You’re very hungry, right? Hyung made you a lot.”
Jungkook’s stomach flutters at Seokjin’s informal speech. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he admits.
Seokjin’s head whips around so fast it’s almost comical. “What? I let you walk around my house hungry? Unbelievable. I should’ve given you something to snack on while you washed up.”
Jungkook giggles, undeniably entertained by Seokjin’s antics. He remembers Yoongi telling him about Seokjin’s dramatic tendencies. He can’t believe he gets to witness them firsthand now. “Seokjin-hyung, I couldn’t possibly eat in the shower.”
Seokjin caves easily, giving up the bit in favour of doling portions of stew into two bowls. “Right, hyung is being silly. Let’s eat now, okay? I want you to have at least two plates, ideally three.”
“That can be arranged,” Jungkook grins shyly, emboldened by Seokjin’s playfulness.
Eating a lot proves easier than expected. Seokjin’s cooking tastes even better than it smells. It’s all Jungkook can do to keep from inhaling the galchi-jorim while Seokjin chatters enough for the both of them.
It should feel odd — having dinner with a stranger — but Yoongi told him so much about Seokjin that it feels like Jungkook already knows him. Still, the desire to see his beloved drill sergeant swells with every passing minute.
Two and a half plates in, he finally asks the question. “Where is Yoongi?”
Seokjin hums, his large hands wrapped around his bowl. “He went down to Seoul to meet with his publisher. He should be home around 8.”
Jungkook nods earnestly, and Seokjin’s mouth curls into a smile. “I can’t believe it. Your eyes are just as big as Yoongi said they were. Knowing my Yoongi-chi, I thought that surely, he must be exaggerating, but for once in his life, he was telling me the truth. You’re a total cutiepie.”
Jungkook blushes, taken aback by the sudden compliments. With the look he’s giving him, Jungkook almost expects Seokjin to pinch his cheek, but thankfully the older man refrains, stacking their empty bowls instead.
“Let’s watch some television while we wait. We can do the dishes later.”
Jungkook follows Seokjin into the living room. It should feel awkward, trailing behind his host all evening, but Seokjin has a way of putting him at ease. He’s glad when Seokjin chooses a channel without consulting him. Now that there’s food in his stomach, he feels even more tired than before. He curls up in an armchair, pulling the fleece blanket Seokjin hands him up to his chin.
They watch in silence for a while, until Seokjin’s phone dings. Seokjin’s face contorts into a grimace, the features lit up by the screen. “That would be Yoongi. His train has some problems, so he’ll arrive later tonight.”
Jungkook swallows painfully, surprised by the way his throat tightens at the news. It’s silly, but Yoongi’s delay is the final inconvenience that pushes him over the brink. His chest aches, and tears start rolling down his cheeks. Ashamed, he turns his head away.
“Oh honey,” Seokjin sighs. “It’s okay. Don’t be ashamed. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”
Jungkook nods mutely, wiping at his cheeks. It’s pointless. The tears won’t stop coming.
“A train from Seoul, and then a bus, and then you walked.”
He shakes his head. The words come out warbled when he speaks. “I didn’t come from Seoul. I came straight from the base.”
“You got discharged today?” Seokjin’s voice is soft, coloured by genuine surprise. He seems to falter for a moment, before he slips back into his dramatics. “Aish, you should have told me. I would have made you something more festive! Tomorrow we celebrate, okay?”
Jungkook nods, too overwhelmed to protest. There’s something about Seokjin that leaves no room for disagreement.
Seokjin stares at him for a moment, taking him in. “I know you must want to see Yoongi again, but maybe it’s best if you go to bed and talk to him tomorrow. You look exhausted.”
Jungkook bites his lip. As much as he’d like to deny it, he’s been struggling to keep his eyes open for the past half an hour. The promise of Yoongi’s impending arrival was the only thing keeping him awake. Without that, he won’t be able to make it another two minutes. “I think I’d like that,” he manages, and Seokjin nods in return.
“Come on, let me show you to your room.”
Despite the fatigue, Jungkook’s stomach somersaults. His room, Seokjin said, like it’s natural. It’s just a guest room, of course, only his in the sense that he’ll be sleeping there tonight. But Jungkook’s never had a room.
He trails behind Seokjin for the last time that evening, his fuzzy socks dragging against the wooden floor. The room Seokjin leads him to is small but cosy, with beige sheets on the bed and not one but two extra blankets draped over a chair in the corner.
“If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”
Jungkook nods, suddenly swaying on his feet. He rubs his eyes with the back of his sleeve while he and Seokjin exchange their goodnights. A relieved sigh falls from his lips when he slips between the sheets, his head hitting the pillow with a soft woosh. He turns to the side to switch off the light, and a little note perched on the nightstand catches his eye. Curiosity piqued, he leans closer to read it.
“Welcome home, Jungkook. We’re so glad to have you here. – Yoongi-hyung.”
Jungkook’s mouth falls open, his lips trembling as a fresh wave of tears wells up in his eyes. His entire body is spent beyond belief, but his perplexity leaves every part of it tingling. He can’t believe it. This might be it. After twenty years of wandering, Jungkook has finally found a place where he’s invited to stay.