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In hindsight, Jungkook was probably doomed from the beginning.
When he had gotten the email from his college informing him that there was limited housing left for freshmen, he simply shrugged it off. Sure, they had to adjust and put him in the same room as a senior, but Jungkook figured it’d be a win-win situation. He’d get to have one of the nicer rooms, along with someone who could give him experienced advice for college when he needs it.
(“What are you trying to say about me?” Taehyung gasps dramatically, when Jungkook tells him about the email. “I’ve given you advice throughout my entire first and second years here, all verified through personal experience. Do you not trust my advice?”
“No offense, hyung, but I’m pretty sure it’s common knowledge to not buy out the entire store’s supply of tea and milk to start your own bubble tea shop in your dorm.”
“I did what I had to do,” Taehyung hisses. “I was having intense cravings and running low on funds. It was survival.”)
He already talked with his roommate a couple times already over text, the other not seeming to have very many words but still inviting Jungkook to come out to the school’s LGBTQ+ club (hah, get it), of which he’s the vice president of. Jungkook had excitedly agreed, though he distantly wondered whether he was invited because his roommate could somehow detect some sort of gay aura through Jungkook’s messages.
Honestly, Jungkook’s always put his sexuality at the back of his mind; something he never really thought about after going through the, quite frankly, grueling and awfully tedious process of coming out to everyone he cared about. Despite that, there’s times when it becomes very apparent to him - times when he feels like his brain is giving him a swift kick from inside his head, banging pots and pans while yelling HEY, WAKE UP IDIOT, YOU’RE GAY.
Times like—
opening the door to his dorm for the first time, realizing mid-swing that he’s never actually seen his roommate’s face before now, and—
“Fuck,” he says eloquently.
The bags drop out of Jungkook’s hands and thump unceremoniously on the floor, right along with what little is left of his dignity after that reaction.
The guy, (Yoongi, his mind supplies) is sitting on his bed with his hair sticking up everywhere, eyes sleepy but sharp, lips pursed into a pout to say—
“I’m sorry?”
His voice is deep, syllables flowing out jagged but smoothly fitting together at the same time, cutting through any last bits of logic Jungkook is desperately, desperately clinging onto. Don’t look at his mouth, Jungkook thinks, panicked. Look anywhere but his mouth. He rapidly scans his options and lands on Yoongi’s knee, which— wait, is that Kumamon? Is he wearing Kumamon pajamas?
Cute, Jungkook thinks without permission, before slapping a metaphorical hand over his cerebrum as if that’d stop it from thinking. He physically shakes his head to clear his thoughts, blinking rapidly. Get it together, Jungkook. Now is not the time to indulge your testosterone-soaked and extremely homosexual brain in what’s looking like the reverie of a man. He almost wants to rub his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things clearly.
Jungkook realizes, somewhere amongst the gay panic, that he’s been standing there gaping at his roommate for the past minute without saying a single word. Reply to him, you fool, Jungkook’s brain gurgles from the pitiful depths of his mind.
“Ah, sorry, I’m just— tired from the move.” Jungkook ignores the way he stutters a little. “I’m… Jungkook. You must be Yoongi-ssi.”
“’Hyung’ is fine. No need to be so formal,” he says, picking up his coffee mug next to him. And fuck, fuck, he takes a sip from it, tongue peeking out to lap up the excess coffee drops clinging to his lips. It leaves his bottom lip shinier than before, glinting softly.
Jungkook feels decidedly more lightheaded than he was five seconds ago.
“Y’know, I just realized I forgot my bags out there,” Jungkook says faintly, even though his bags are clearly all by his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
He sees Yoongi open his mouth to speak, but he turns around and flees the room before he has a chance to. As Jungkook runs, he realizes he now has to go back in with the nonexistent bags he said were outside. But whatever. That’s a problem for future him. Present him is currently running away from what he can tell will be the cause of his next biggest crisis.
Jungkook rushes outside and leans his back against the wall, out of breath for some reason (oh there’s a reason, his brain interjects - a thought to which Jungkook immediately strangles). He closes his eyes to try to catch a breath, but all he can see are the tiny tufts of hair sticking out from Yoongi’s head, his long fingers wrapped around his cup, the pink pink pink of Yoongi’s mouth, and—
Shit.
He’s so fucked.
//
“I’m so fucked,” Jungkook bemoans, head hanging off of Taehyung’s couch.
“This is the seventeenth time you’ve said that within the hour,” Taehyung says without taking his eyes off of his book. He’s seated on the floor in front of the couch, facing Jungkook as if he’s some detached therapist who isn’t getting paid enough for his job. “Why don’t you just ask him out?”
Jungkook lifts his entire body off the couch to turn and stare at Taehyung in disbelief. Taehyung’s expression remains impassive, as if he hadn’t just done the verbal equivalent of throwing a punch right into Jungkook’s gut.
“Ask him out? Ask him out?” Jungkook’s voice raises with each word. “Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”
“He’s my roommate,” Jungkook hisses. “This is literally the number one thing on the list of what not to do with your roommate.”
“If anything goes wrong, which, for the record, I doubt it will,” Taehyung pauses for a moment as he effortlessly dodges the pillow Jungkook chucks at him. “Then you can just stay at my place.”
“For the rest of the semester?” Jungkook asks incredulously, watching Taehyung simply nod his head. “You know I can’t do that to you, Tae. Besides, you already have Jimin, and me crashing on the couch would only make this apartment even more cramped than it already is.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Taehyung says cheerily. “Jimin’s been staying at Namjoon’s place ever since the start of the year, he honestly doesn’t come here that often anymore. In fact, I haven’t seen him in…”
The smile on Taehyung’s face suddenly drops, expression turning blank.
“Taehyung?” Jungkook says warily, after Taehyung’s been sitting frozen for thirty seconds straight. “You good?”
“Oh my god, I haven’t seen him in over a week,” Taehyung whispers. “And I haven’t heard from him in even longer. At first I thought it was because he and Namjoon were having some wild marathon sex, but it’s been days now. Nobody can have sex for that long right? That’s not possible right?”
“Jesus,” Jungkook says, rubbing his forehead. “Can you please text Jimin and confirm that your roommate isn’t dead on the street.”
“I mean, who knows, they could still be going at it.”
“For more than a week straight?” Jungkook stares at Taehyung in disbelief. “Is that even possible? Does anybody have that much stamina?”
“If anyone were to have that stamina, it’d be Jimin,” Taehyung mumbles. “He once told me he has done, and Will do, quite literally anything for some good dick.”
“Jesus.” Jungkook flops back onto the couch, closing his eyes. “You know, I was doing fine existing without that information up until now. I really could have lived my whole life without knowing any of that.”
“This isn’t the point.” Taehyung smacks a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder, gripping it as he gives him a meaningful look. Jungkook refuses to meet it.
“Look, Kook-ah, this isn’t that hard. All you have to do is walk up to him - which is easy, because you literally live with him, just take two steps off your bed - and confess your undying feelings to him. Then, you either rip the rejection band-aid off to get it over with or, more likely, get accepted and live a happily married life together for the rest of time with your four children, two dogs, and well-paying stable jobs with benefits and insurance.”
Jungkook lets out a frustrated noise.
“I’m fucked,” he groans.
“I’m sure you wish you were,” Taehyung says sagely. “By one Min Yoongi.”
Taehyung lets out an ear-piercing scream as Jungkook shoots off the couch to aim a flying kick at him.
//
Taehyung had told Jungkook to be upfront about his feelings to Yoongi and so, of course, as expected—
He does the complete opposite.
As the first semester flies by, Jungkook buries himself in his work, never giving his mind a chance to wander to Yoongi. Granted, it’s a little difficult considering Yoongi’s about three meters away from him at nearly any given time but, he makes do.
“Makes do”, as in, spends as much time outside of the dorm room as he can, filling up his days at the dance studio, the gym, the spare recording rooms— anywhere so he doesn’t have to face his Min Yoongi-induced emotional (and sometimes, on unfortunate occasions, physical) crises.
It’s not like Jungkook is completely avoiding him though. They’re on cordial terms with each other; Jungkook’s even asked him for advice a couple of times, after he found out Yoongi was majoring in music. He’s accidentally woken Yoongi up a couple times though, not realizing he was asleep before calling his name to ask for help. He blearily opened his eyes each time and still helped, but Jungkook spent most of those moments mentally kicking himself in the head for being so stupid.
Ultimately though, Yoongi seems like the type of person who values his time alone. Sometimes, Jungkook would walk into the dorm and it’d be Yoongi that ducks out of the room first. His head would snap up once he hears the door open, and he’d quickly mumble something about going to the studio before vanishing. Jungkook always thinks he sees the faintest flash of red on Yoongi’s face before he leaves the room, but it must just be from his rush to leave.
(“Are you hearing yourself,” Taehyung deadpans.
“What?” Jungkook says, rubbing his neck and staring at the table between them.
“You like Yoongi, and you’re always leaving the room so you don’t have to look at him.”
Jungkook nods.
“And you’re telling me,” Taehyung leans forward on the table. “That Yoongi’s also leaving the room whenever you come in?”
“Not all the time,” Jungkook mumbles. “Besides, he’s really busy.”
“Mhm, sure.” Taehyung takes a calculated sip of his coffee before choking on its bitter taste.
“Why did you get coffee if you know you hate it,” Jungkook mutters.
“It’s for the aesthetic,” Taehyung sniffs.
“What aesthetic?” Jungkook asks incredulously, which Taehyung swiftly ignores.
“Anyways, you say Min Yoongi is busy.” Taehyung makes air quotes as he says ‘busy’. “And yet he still helps you out with your work, even if he was dead asleep five seconds prior?”
“He’s just a nice person,” Jungkook says weakly. “He’d never just ignore me like that. He’d never ignore anyone like that.”
Taehyung falls back against his chair dramatically, taking his glasses off and tossing them onto the table.
“You’re hopeless.” Taehyung shakes his head into his mug of coffee. “Absolutely hopeless.”)
Anyways— whatever signs Taehyung is seeing, it’s probably just Jungkook projecting.
Maybe he doesn’t like me. Jungkook thinks idly, in the dark of the night. And why would he? It’s not like he’s ever mean to Jungkook, but they have such a significant age gap, at vastly different places in life from each other. He probably thinks Jungkook is just some kid who he has to help out once in a while solely out of obligation. Then, once the year ends, he’ll duck out of Jungkook’s life, as quietly as he came in, and they’ll probably never hear from each other again.
//
Jungkook stumbles up the stairs to his dorm room, exhausted from the day. All he wants to do is flop down onto his bed and metamorphose into the mattress, becoming one with his Iron Man sheets and pillows.
It was one of those days where he’d stared up at the sky every time something had gone wrong and thought, it really can’t get any worse than this. So then, of course, the universe makes it its personal goal to make his life as close to hell as it could get. As if the number one thing on the universe’s bucket list is make Jungkook have (at least) fifty-seven existential crises within the next 24 hours.
It started with him waking up late and rushing to throw on the nearest shirt he could find, then spilling scorching coffee all over it in his haste to get to class. It was only after he was wiping off the coffee that he realized said shirt was a joke present Jimin once gave him, proudly proclaiming ‘SATAN IS MY SUGAR DADDY’ in strong, bolded letters. He had to give a presentation, in that stained Satan shirt, in front of two hundred of his fellow coursemates. He could practically feel the amused stares piercing his body.
It definitely didn’t help that he tripped twice as he was returning to his seat, after undoubtedly bombing the presentation he had worked on for an entire excruciating, backbreaking five minutes before giving up and completely forgetting the deadline. He then dragged himself through the rest of his classes, looking forward to lunch because he hadn’t eaten all day and he was starving, famished, ravenous - only to find that his favorite place to eat on campus was closed due to maintenance issues. He stares blankly at the “Sorry for the inconvenience :(" sign for two minutes straight, feeling a deep connection with the frowny face staring right back at him. He breaks out of his trance when the words on the sign start to not look like words anymore, and pulls himself to the dining hall that’s all the way across campus.
It’s insanely crowded there, reminding Jungkook why he chose to eat at a lesser populated place for the majority of his semester. Gritting his teeth, he excuses himself through the mob of people, when suddenly someone shoves his shoulder hard from behind. He stumbles forward, right as someone in the front of the line turns around with their plate full of food and runs right into Jungkook, food tray flying out of their hands and hitting Jungkook’s chest like an arrow to a target.
If there’s a god in this world, Jungkook thinks, staring at the mess of food on his shirt slowly melting down his body. He’d take mercy on me and strike me dead right now.
No such thing happens. What a shame.
“Oh god,” The guy says, staring at his lunch dripping off of Jungkook. “I am— so sorry. Fuck.”
“Just another day, right,” Jungkook deadpans. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but the food soaking through his shirt was making it a little hard to be considerate right now. He wipes off as much of the food as he can before just sticking his earbuds in and walking out. He just wants to go home now.
Then, his earbuds had gotten caught on a doorknob on his way out, yanking them out of Jungkook’s ears and, that was it, that was the last straw. He stood there and just— screamed, for thirty seconds straight. The entire quad had stopped to stare at him, at the sound he was making, and probably at his Satan shirt too but at this point he couldn’t care less.
After storming back to grab his earbuds off the doorknob, he made a beeline back to his dorm. There’s no way in hell he wants to do anything else for the rest of the day. He loses the rest of his energy halfway there, suddenly just immensely tired, dragging his feet back the rest of the way. He nearly trips on a rock as he enters the building which is just— the cherry on top of the cake, isn’t it. Which brings him back to here, wanting to become one with his mattress.
The door to his dorm is just the slightest ajar for some reason. Good, Jungkook thinks. There’s no way he can muster enough strength to punch in numbers on the keypad right now. Honestly, he probably can’t even remember the passcode with the state his brain is currently at. He mentally wades through the slimy fluid soaking his brain to see if he can recall the numbers and yep, it’s gone. In fact, the 205 on the door marking the room barely even registers as an actual number in Jungkook’s head. He’d walked past it three times before realizing it was his room.
Jungkook’s exhausted, is the point.
He’s so exhausted he can barely turn the doorknob, leaning his weight against the door to slowly push it open. When the door is cracked open just enough so he can see into the room, he hears two voices flowing out from the inside. He doesn’t pay it any mind; Yoongi brings his friends over a lot to ask their opinions on what he’s working on, or vice versa. It’s pretty common. From what it sounds like, Namjoon is with him right now.
Jungkook is about to push open the door completely, not really listening to the conversation occurring on the other side, until—
“—don’t want to hurt him. You know?” Yoongi’s voice hits his ear. “Jungkook is just… he’s just different. He’s not like any of the other guys I’ve been with.”
Jungkook freezes in the doorway.
He’s— not one to pry, really. Usually shoves his earbuds in before he can hear too much, knowing he’d appreciate it if others did the same for him. But… they’re talking about him.
Yoongi’s talking about him.
It should be okay, right? Just this once?
“Yoongi-hyung, look,” Namjoon’s voice speaks clearly but softly. “You obviously care about him a lot. And— I know him. He’s Jimin’s friend, he’s a good kid. If you tell him what’s going on, there’s no way you’d be harming him in any way.”
Harming me? Jungkook thinks, mind racing. I'm different from the other guys Yoongi’s been with? Like… as a roommate? Is he a bad roommate? Oh god, he was right. Yoongi doesn’t like him, and he’s trying to find a way to let him down easy because he knows Jungkook is the personification of one of those tiny trembling big-eyed animals that look perpetually scared.
Jungkook sneaks a glance inside the room. Yoongi is sitting with his back towards the door, and Namjoon is seated facing him, with a clear view of where Jungkook is standing. He quickly leans his head back behind the door before Namjoon can see him.
“I can’t just do that, Joon-ah.” Yoongi sounds stressed, and it’s making Jungkook feel stressed. “He’s so young, and he asks me for advice all the time, about everything. He looks up to me - whether it’s as a person, as a producer, I don’t fuckin’ know, but—” A sigh leaves Yoongi’s lips. “But I don’t want to use that power against him. I don’t want him to feel like I’m pressuring him into anything.”
Pressuring me, Jungkook thinks hazily. Pressuring me into what, just as Yoongi says,
“So obviously I can’t just—” A pause, deep breath. Then, quiet, so quiet Jungkook can barely hear: “...tell him I’m in love with him.”
This, Jungkook supposes, is probably what it feels like to get struck by lightning. It’s a full-body reaction - head to toe chills running through his body, in stark contrast to the electricity wrapping around his veins. He feels knocked down, knocked out, head dizzy from the breaths he’s forgetting to take.
“Hyung,” Namjoon’s voice is softer than before, but it bounces around Jungkook’s head, as if every sound around him is now bass boosted times twenty. “I know it’s hard, and scary— god knows I felt like my life was ending when I first told Jimin how I felt. But the result was so worth taking that leap of faith. And, even if things don’t work out… you don’t deserve to do this to yourself, Yoongi. You deserve to be able to move on - not because Jungkook is a bad person, but because you have the right to step back and heal from this.”
“Do I, though?” Yoongi’s voice picks up volume now, not aggressive but a little frantic. “I feel— so selfish. As if I’m already taking advantage of him just by being near him. I shouldn’t tell him, shouldn’t be given the chance to have those feelings returned. I should just stay quiet about it, until the year ends. We’ll separate and it’ll fade away, just like all the other times. I’ll just… suffer in silence until then, I guess.”
No, Jungkook thinks, the thought cutting through his haze sharp and clear.
Then, Jungkook’s moving before he even registers, pressing his hand against the cool door to widen the crack, taking a step through. Namjoon glances up, does a double take, then his eyes are bulging out of his head almost comically. Jungkook would laugh if he didn’t currently feel like there’s a thousand volts running through his body, everything operating on auto-pilot.
“Yoongi, uh,” Namjoon says over Yoongi still talking, staring straight at Jungkook. “You should probably—”
“Probably what, Joon-ah? Calm down?” Yoongi sounds close to hysterics. Make that two of us, Jungkook thinks faintly. All of Jungkook’s conscious thought? Gone. He’s simply a shell of himself, ascended out of his body long, long ago. His psyche is passively witnessing this entire mess of a situation go down, until it slaps Jungkook in the face and tells him to do something, idiot.
“—don’t know how you think I could just calm down, Namjoon.” Yoongi is saying. “Have you even been listening to anything I’ve said in the past hour?”
“No, hyung, I just—”
“Jungkook probably hates me, Joon-ah. He does!” Yoongi’s voice gets extraordinarily loud, and Namjoon winces. “As he should. And I deserve it, I’m a terrible roommate. All he does is ask me for help and what do I do? Stutter through everything I’m telling him and basically just sprout nonsense because I can’t think straight when he’s near me. Freshman year is already bad enough, yet I can’t even help him out because, apparently, I can’t control my hormones enough to focus on anybody but myself for two seconds and stop myself from thinking about him in a way I shouldn’t because I’m way too busy just trying to not fall for hi—”
“Hyung?” Jungkook says, voice shaking. Yoongi nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips his head around to stare at Jungkook, dread filling his expression by the second.
“Fuck,” Yoongi says emphatically and, huh, Jungkook thinks. Feels like they’ve been here before.
“Oh, wow, would you look at the time,” Namjoon says while looking at his bare wrist, no watch to be seen. “I forgot I, uh, left a casserole in the oven, gotta go check on that.”
“You bastard,” Yoongi yells after Namjoon as he darts around Jungkook and out of the room. “You absolute liar. Your apartment doesn’t even have an oven. And even if it did, you haven’t touched anything in the kitchen after you somehow started a fire from chopping vegetables, and I know it!”
The door closes on Yoongi’s last frantically screeched word, the electronic lock playing a happy tune that sounds all too out of place for the situation. Yoongi stares blankly at the door, seeming to want to melt through the floor, which, understandable. Jungkook has experienced that exact mood nearly every day this past semester.
“Hyung,” Jungkook starts.
“Don’t,” Yoongi says, his eyes closing, hands curling into fists in his lap. “I don’t know how much you heard but whatever you did hear, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook says softly, taking a couple of quiet steps closer.
“Really, Jungkook-ah, there’s nothing for you to worry about.” Yoongi grits his teeth, eyes still firmly screwed shut. “It’s my business, my problem, and I’ll take care of it myself. You don’t have to—”
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, now standing right in front of Yoongi.
“Kook-ah, I—” Yoongi’s words falter as he opens his eyes, gaze immediately flitting up to Jungkook’s.
“Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, voice breathy. “What— what are you—”
“Everything you said,” Jungkook says, almost inaudible. “Is it true? Not the part about being a terrible roommate and being selfish, because we all know that’s a lie, but— everything else.”
Yoongi stares at him for a beat, two beats.
“It’s not a lie,” Yoongi mumbles. “The— roommate thing.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. “Yes, it is. You’re a great roommate.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, cutting him off. “Everything else. Did you mean it?”
Yoongi goes silent again, gaze searching, trying to analyze Jungkook’s expression. He presses his lips together, looks down at the floor for a few more seconds, then brings his eyes back up to meet Jungkook’s.
“Yes,” Yoongi says, quietly but firmly. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s a simple affirmation, but it makes Jungkook’s pulse double in time.
Body moving faster than his thoughts, Jungkook takes another step forward - slowly, softly. He hears his heart thumping gently in the background, a beat for the melody of breaths between them.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, eyes flickering downward for a half-second. “You have to tell me.”
Yoongi takes in a shaky breath, eyes staring up at Jungkook’s.
“Tell you what?”
Jungkook lifts a hand to gently touch Yoongi’s jaw. An almost indiscernible shiver runs through Yoongi’s body, and Jungkook feels his stomach flip at his reaction. Their skin is barely touching, fingertips on jawline, but it makes Jungkook feel like his body is getting infused with gold, bright and burning.
“Tell me,” Jungkook says, head tilting, breath falling onto Yoongi’s lips. “If this is okay.”
“It’s okay,” Yoongi says immediately, leaning up, leaning forward. “It’s okay, Jungkook-ah, please—”
His words get muffled in the air as Jungkook closes the distance and gently, gently, presses their lips together.
Jungkook’s mind goes blank, all his thoughts immediately muted as if pulled underwater. The sensation of Yoongi’s mouth against him is soft, warm, and oh, he can feel Yoongi straightening his posture from his seated position, pushing up into the kiss. He can feel every drag of movement between the two of them and god, he immediately loves it but - Yoongi pulls back suddenly, as if burned. Jungkook has to use every ounce of self-control to not follow his mouth, to stop himself from chasing more. He blinks a little dazedly, staring at Yoongi’s wide eyes.
“What’s wrong,” Jungkook says breathily. “Was… was that not okay? Shit, Yoongi-hyung, I’m so sorry—”
“No,” Yoongi cuts him off immediately, eyes widening even more and frantically shaking his head. “Fuck, no, you did nothing wrong, Kook-ah. It’s… it’s just that—”
Yoongi stops speaking, mouth still open as if the words had gotten caught in his throat, trapped under his tongue before they could make it out.
Jungkook tentatively places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder - he might not want to be touched right now - but keeps it there once he sees Yoongi visibly relax. He rubs his thumb gently against his shoulder, hoping that it’s a comforting feeling.
“Just?” Jungkook prompts softly.
Yoongi sighs a little and looks away, eyebrows furrowing.
“I just— if this is because of what you heard,” Yoongi says, so quietly Jungkook can barely hear him. “—then you don’t have to do this. Really. I swear I don’t need, no, I don’t want you to do this, just because you think it’s what I want. We can keep everything how it used to be, nothing has to change just because you found out that I—”
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, with such force it startles Yoongi into looking back at him.
Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, voice softening as he continues, “I want it, hyung. Not because of you, or anything you said. I’ve… wanted it since the beginning.”
Yoongi’s mouth drops open a little, lips curling into a tiny pout. He stares at Jungkook for a few seconds, eyes wide. Cute, Jungkook thinks helplessly.
“What,” Yoongi says, voice dripping with disbelief. “You— since the beginning? The beginning as in…?”
“As in literally the moment I saw your face for the first time,” Jungkook’s head drops as he lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Do you not remember how I literally said ‘fuck’ after I saw you?”
“I do,” Yoongi says faintly. “I just thought you were reacting to what a mess I looked like.”
“That’s literally the opposite of what my reaction was.”
“I was wearing Kumamon pajamas,” Yoongi deadpans, though a pretty pink spreads on the high of his cheeks. “My hair was a goddamn mess, I hadn’t slept well in over three days, I nearly dropped my mug of coffee all over my laptop, oh god—”
“Hyung,” Jungkook laughs. “You literally gave me the biggest gay crisis of my life that day. I’m saying this as if it’s over. It’s not. The gay crisis is still happening. It’s currently taking place.”
Yoongi tears his gaze away from Jungkook, looking to the side in an attempt to hide the smile growing on his face. He fails, and his unrestrained smile looks like opening a window to bright sunshine and a fresh breeze. It makes Jungkook’s heart do aerials, looping in circles again and again and again. He has to bite at his lip and look away too, to stop himself from reflecting Yoongi’s grin.
God, He thinks. I’m so gone for him.
“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says quietly, mindlessly playing with Jungkook’s fingers that aren’t on his shoulder. Yoongi meets his eyes again, looking more vulnerable than Jungkook has ever seen before.
He’s trusting you, Jungkook realizes. He’s showing his most vulnerable side to you and trusting that you’ll take care of him.
He feels his heart squeeze.
“You really mean it?” Yoongi whispers. “You… want this?”
Jungkook nods, his chest feeling like it’s going to burst open with all his feelings swelling up inside of him. His hands move up to cup Yoongi’s face, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
“I do, hyung,” he says quietly. “And all that stuff you said earlier? About taking advantage of me?” He feels Yoongi stiffen a little, something looking like fear flashing across his eyes.
“None of that is true. None,” Jungkook emphasizes when Yoongi looks doubtful. “You’ve helped me every time I asked for it, and you’ve never made me feel like I was being a burden. Everything I overheard - sorry about that, by the way - made literally no sense to me, because I’ve never felt that way about you.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but Jungkook cuts in: “And, yeah, I know I’m young. But… I’m not a kid, hyung. This isn’t something I’d just blindly jump into only for you. I know what I want.”
Jungkook brings his hands down to rest on Yoongi’s shoulders, his fingertips pressing gently into Yoongi’s skin.
“It’s you, hyung,” Jungkook whispers. “You’re the one I want.”
Yoongi lets out a sharp exhale, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, the intensity of his eyes makes Jungkook’s heart skip a beat, makes him go breathless. Yoongi leans forward, fingers grasping at Jungkook’s shirt:
“Kook, Kook-ah. Jungkook-ah—”
Their lips meet again, and Jungkook gets lost in the sensation. He’s kissed people before, but— he’s never felt so aware of each and every movement, each touch feeling like bright colors splattered on canvas, blinding in the best way. It’s so much, but Jungkook tries to commit it all to memory - the warmth of Yoongi’s mouth, his slightly chapped but soft lips, the wetness that’s left every time their mouths catch.
“I want this,” Jungkook says between kisses, between stolen breaths. He wants to dissipate all of Yoongi’s worries, wants to prove to him how wrong he is. “I want you. Always have.”
Yoongi makes a tiny noise that shoots straight to Jungkook’s gut, and presses more insistently against his mouth. Any other thoughts Jungkook has immediately shatters, replaced by flashes of sensation. A hand gently settling on his hip, another sliding up to hold the back of his neck, spreading warmth. A nip on Jungkook’s bottom lip, quickly soothed by Yoongi’s tongue peeking out of his mouth, and this time Jungkook is the one who makes a sound, hands tightening on Yoongi’s shoulders. He feels Yoongi exhale heavily against his mouth, shivers running through his body under Jungkook’s hands, and Jungkook’s stomach coils in a way that makes him want— want—
“Yoongi, hyung,” Jungkook is the one who pulls away first now, though every fiber of his being is screaming not to. “We… should slow down. If we keep going, I— I won’t be able to stop.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi breathes, looking just as frazzled as Jungkook feels. His lips are stained and his breathing is sharp and, fuck, Jungkook did that to him.
“And besides,” Yoongi says, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I don’t want just this. I… wanna take you out too. Properly. If— if that’s what you want too.” He quickly adds to the end.
“Of course,” Jungkook says, trying to hold himself back from absolutely imploding from the adrenaline rush Yoongi’s words are giving him. You’re an adult, Jungkook, you can deal with these feelings, it’s fine—
“Oh, good,” Yoongi chuckles a little, the sound airy and breathless. “I’ve wanted to… for so long. For the longest time, it’s all I could think about.”
Oh, okay, Jungkook thinks as his brain melts from inside of his head. Cool cool cool. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.
Jungkook wonders if they have defibrillators in the dorm halls. Wonders if Yoongi knows how to work one, because at this rate, with everything that’s happening, it’s very likely he’s going to need to operate it on Jungkook in the very near future.
“Kook-ah,” Yoongi says, when Jungkook still hasn’t said a word after a whole minute and is just staring at him in awe. “I need to ask you something.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says back, breathless. “Anything.”
Yoongi takes in a deep inhale, licking his lips as if preparing what to say. And then:
“Why… does your shirt look like you tried to pour every liquid substance known to this planet onto it?”
Jungkook looks down and— oh. He’s still wearing the Satan shirt. Of course.
“And— wait does that say—”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, resigned. “Satan is, indeed, my sugar daddy. It was a joke from Jimin, but at this point, I’m kinda convinced he is. Except instead of money he just gives me unfortunate life events in exchange for my company in hell.”
Yoongi bites back a grin, tugging Jungkook forward a little.
“Does this also fall into the category of unfortunate life events?” Yoongi asks, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Unfortunate in that we’re just standing here talking.” Jungkook says, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. “I can think of better things we could be doing.”
“I’d say there’s an easy fix for that,” Yoongi hums quietly, leaning up again to meet Jungkook in the middle.
Their mouths catch again, again, again, soft and sweet and pliant. Jungkook feels warm to the core, honey dripping from his bones, spreading golden sweetness everywhere. He can’t help but smile into Yoongi’s mouth, pressing forward more, wanting to taste more and—
And Jungkook swears, shivers running down his spine, that he can feel Yoongi smiling back.