Chapter Text
The air in the cafeteria was cool and sharp, filled with the soft clatter of trays and the hum of students deep in conversation, laughter bouncing off concrete and linoleum as Jungkook stood quietly by the counter, waiting for his sandwich with his hands shoved into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. His morning lecture had dragged longer than usual, a dull blur of slides and monotone discussion that hadn’t quite managed to hold his attention. His mind, lately, had been a mess of everything else. His notes from that class were barely legible; he'd spent more time doodling along the margins of his notebook than listening to the actual lecture. He wasn’t even sure what the topic had been. Something about sociocultural frameworks in media or whatever. Didn’t matter. Not when his brain kept circling the same image over and over again like a song he couldn’t turn off.
Namjoon and Jin.
The way they’d looked at each other after they’d come back into the house that night, eyes soft, their fingers loosely intertwined like it had always been that way, casual and light but anchored, like they’d found something they didn’t know they’d been missing all that time. There’d been something reverent in the way Jin looked at Namjoon when he thought no one was watching. And Namjoon had looked so sure, so settled.
It had moved Jungkook in a way he hadn’t expected.
It was weird. He knew them. He knew them. These were his hyungs. The people who shared dorm snacks and bad movie nights and scolded him for never doing his laundry on time. But when he looked at them now, something had shifted. Something in the fabric of what friendship could mean.
Friends could fall in love.
Friends could become more, without losing the foundation of trust and warmth and belonging that had been built over years.
And something about that was... comforting. Terrifying. A little destabilizing, if he was honest.
Because the more he thought about it, the more that idea began to latch itself onto another name. Another person.
Hoseok.
It had started off so innocently, his usual admiration for Hoseok’s energy, his kindness, the way he could walk into a room and make everyone feel like they belonged there. Hoseok, who had been the first one to greet Jungkook when he joined the group, who had taken him under his wing when he was too shy to speak in full sentences around the others, who had helped him loosen up and open his shell.
Hoseok, whose smile made people turn.
Hoseok, who touched without hesitation—warmth and affection part of his every move.
Hoseok, who never made Jungkook feel small or childish for wanting to be close.
But something had shifted after that party.
Maybe it was watching Hoseok on the dance floor with Jackson—hips fluid, head thrown back in laughter, chest glistening under the lights like some kind of mirage Jungkook couldn’t look away from. They were in sync, mirroring each other in movement, playful and sensual and impossibly good. Hoseok had always been electric when he danced, but that night, he was magnetic. Alive. Free. And everyone had seen it.
And Jungkook had hated it.
He hadn’t even known why at the time, just that something had felt wrong, a tug in his chest that made him clench his fists and avert his gaze like looking too long would betray something he didn’t want to name. He told himself it was protective instinct. That it was weird seeing his hyung dance like that with someone who flirted like it was a game. But in the quiet aftermath, when the party ended and he’d laid in bed staring at the ceiling, that voice inside had gotten louder.
It hadn’t been anger.
It had been fear.
Fear of losing something.
Fear of realizing something too late.
“Here you go,” the barista said gently, and Jungkook blinked out of the haze, mumbling a quick thank you as he took the sandwich with hands that felt colder than they should.
He was about to make his way to the corner of the room when a small, familiar group shuffled into a nearby table, loud and confident and entirely unaware of his presence. Jungkook froze halfway through a step.
Jackson.
His stomach twisted.
“Dude, that party was insane,” one of the guys was saying with a laugh, already unwrapping his food. “So many hot people—like, I still can’t believe Namjoon went home with Jin.”
Jungkook’s entire body tensed. He didn’t move. Just stood there like a ghost beside the condiments station, sandwich forgotten in one hand, his other curled tightly around the edge of his tray. His eyes focused on a napkin dispenser like it could anchor him to the ground.
Jackson’s voice followed, easy and open. “Yeah. I asked him out.”
“What?! Since when?”
“I met him the next morning to be honest,” Jackson replied with a low chuckle. “He turned me down. Said he’s had feelings for Jin for a long time. He was nice about it, though.”
A beat of silence, then a long whistle.
“Ouch, bro. You okay?”
“Honestly?” Jackson shrugged. “I think it’s fine. Namjoon’s a solid guy. Kind of intimidating, actually. But... I mean, I didn’t have my heart set on it or anything.”
“Still sucks. But I guess it worked out for them.”
“Yeah. I guess some people just belong together, you know?”
Jungkook’s grip on the tray tightened.
And then Jackson’s tone shifted slightly, lighter, but with that cocky edge that made Jungkook’s stomach churn.
“Anyway,” he continued, “not a total loss. I wasn’t expecting to feel a little spark that night... but I did.”
“Oh?” someone teased. “With who?”
Jackson laughed under his breath. “Hoseok.”
That single word hit Jungkook like a slap to the chest.
There was a brief pause, followed by loud laughter.
“Okay, damn! I saw you two dancing. That was intense.”
“You were basically dry-humping on beat,” someone else snorted.
“Hoseok’s got moves,” another added. “That boy’s hips do not lie.”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” Jackson said, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “But I did feel something. He was... hot. Seriously. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hit him up. See if he wants to go out sometime.”
Jungkook’s breath left his lungs in a slow, shaky exhale. The cold air of the cafeteria suddenly felt suffocating.
He didn’t wait to hear the rest. He didn’t want to.
His body moved before he could process it, his feet taking sharp steps toward the exit, heartbeat thudding in his ears like a warning siren. His sandwich remained unopened in his hands. His thoughts were white noise.
He didn’t know where he was going.
But his legs did.
Because there was only one place he wanted to be right now.
Only one person he wanted to see.
And that was Hoseok.
Not because he had answers. Not because Jungkook knew what he was going to say. But because everything in him, the confused feelings, the sudden clarity, the heavy ache he couldn’t carry alone anymore, was wrapped up in that name. In that person.
Hoseok. Hoseok. Hoseok.
His safe place.
And that’s exactly where he was headed.
Straight to the dorm he shared with Jimin, where he knew the lights would be warm and the door would be unlocked and Hoseok might be sitting cross-legged on the floor like he always did, sipping tea and reading with his glasses on.
Somewhere familiar. Somewhere real.
Somewhere Jungkook could finally figure out what the hell was happening to him.
Jungkook’s legs carried him across campus like he was moving on instinct, not thought, his limbs tight with emotion, steps quick and uneven, like the ground might give way if he slowed down. His heart was still rattling against his ribs, and the words Hoseok and Jackson kept echoing in his head like a cruel mantra, looping endlessly, gaining weight with every repetition. He didn't even remember tossing his untouched sandwich into the first bin he passed, or the way his hands trembled slightly when he climbed the stairs. He just needed to see him. Hoseok. He needed to know.
The door to the dorm flung open, his hand still on the handle from where he'd pushed it too hard.
Inside, Jin’s voice met him immediately. “Jungkook, calm down! You didn’t have to sprint like that—we haven’t even started yet. I just texted you two minutes ago.”
Jungkook blinked.
What?
He looked around, breath still heaving slightly. Namjoon was by the dining table, setting down bowls, careful and methodical, next to Taehyung who was currently pouring water into mismatched glasses with exaggerated care and very little aim.
Jin had on an apron. Jimin stepped out of his room, beaming. “Oh! You made it! I was scared you were gonna bail again. Come in, take off your shoes. We're doing lunch!”
Namjoon nodded from the table. “We made kimchi,” he said proudly.
Jin scoffed without looking up. “I made kimchi. You stood next to me and waved a knife around like it was interpretive dance.”
“I supervised,” Namjoon said smoothly.
“You were one accident away from chopping your toes.”
Jungkook didn’t move. He just stood in the doorway, letting it close behind him with a soft click, his eyes darting from one person to the next. None of this was what he expected. The warmth, the laughter, the smell of food wafting through the space like a promise of comfort. It was too normal.
He felt completely unmoored.
“Hey,” Jimin’s voice cut in again, quieter now as he stepped forward, a crease forming between his brows. “Are you okay?”
Jungkook swallowed, lips parting like the words didn’t want to come out. He shook his head slightly and then said, flat and confused, “Where’s Hobi-hyung?”
That made everyone pause.
Taehyung was the one who answered first, casually. “He’s with Yoongi-hyung. They said they were grabbing lunch earlier—Yoongi just texted like, five minutes ago, said they’re on their way.”
That didn’t make Jungkook feel better.
If anything, it made the pressure behind his eyes worse.
Jin stepped closer to him, worry now replacing amusement. “Jungkook-ah,” he said gently. “What’s going on?”
Jungkook looked at him. Looked at his kind, concerned hyung, the same one who just days ago had been glowing with new love, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“It’s your fault.”
The room stilled.
Jin blinked, thrown. “...What?”
“It’s your fault,” Jungkook repeated, not with anger but with a kind of bewildered frustration, arms flopping uselessly at his sides. “Because now you’re with Namjoon-hyung. Which means Jackson can’t go after Namjoon-hyung. Which means—he’s going after Hobi-hyung instead.”
A low groan left him as he dropped onto the edge of the couch like his legs couldn’t carry him anymore. His hands ran through his hair. “Hyung, I can’t—this is so messed up.”
Everyone stared.
For a full second, no one made a sound.
Then Namjoon spoke, slowly, brows lifted. “Okay. Rewind. Start from the beginning, please.”
So Jungkook did.
He told them everything, the cafeteria, the overheard conversation, Jackson’s voice talking about feelings and dancing and Hoseok, how he’d said he might hit him up, how it had made Jungkook feel like the floor had dropped out from under him.
When he finished, his breath was shallow, and he looked around like he wasn’t even sure what kind of response he wanted.
Namjoon leaned back against the wall. “Okay, look,” he said calmly, “Jackson’s a bit much sometimes, but he’s not a bad guy. I consider him a friend. Yeah, he’s a flirt, and maybe not always serious about things, but he’s not... malicious.”
“He’s not good enough for Hobi-hyung,” Jungkook muttered, almost automatically.
Taehyung hummed. “Maybe. But Hoseok-hyung knows what he’s doing. If he wants to have a little... fun with Jackson, I mean. That’s his choice, right? They looked hot together on the dance floor. Not gonna lie.”
Jungkook sat up straighter. “But—no. I mean—yes, but no. Hoseok deserves someone who sees him. Not just that he’s hot or fun to dance with, but like... like who he is.”
Jimin tilted his head slowly. “Okay,” he said carefully. “Then what kind of person do you think should be with Hobi-hyung?”
Jungkook opened his mouth. Closed it. His hands twisted in his lap. “Someone who... someone who thinks he’s attractive, yeah, but also kind. Who worships him. Who notices how thoughtful he is. How he always buys extra snacks for other people. How he gives compliments that actually mean something. How he lights up when he laughs.”
A pause.
And then Jimin, a little quieter now, said, “Someone like you?”
Jungkook looked up, eyes wide.
Jimin didn’t look away. “We saw you two dance at the party. I mean... I was surprised. There was something different about it. The way you were moving. Like there was tension.”
Jungkook’s face turned red, his jaw clenching as panic crept in. He buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Oh my god.”
Taehyung squinted. “Wait. Do you like Hobi-hyung?”
Another groan. Louder this time. “I don’t know. I think I do. Maybe. I’m so confused. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the party. I hated watching him dance with Jackson, and when I danced with him... it felt different. We’ve danced a hundred times but this time—”
He hesitated.
And then, quietly: “...There was the kiss.”
Silence.
Dead. Silence.
Taehyung’s mouth opened. Then Jin’s. Then Namjoon blinked.
Jimin dropped the glass he was holding—thankfully empty.
The room exploded.
“What kiss?!”
"What do you mean kiss!?!!"
“You kissed?!”
“When! Why! Where!!?!”
“Did you know about this!?” Jin gasped, looking at Jimin.
“I didn’t!” Jimin yelped.
“We’re his FRIENDS, why did we not know about this?!”
“Was it on the MOUTH?”
“WHERE ELSE, TAEHYUNG?!”
Jungkook flailed. “Stop!! It’s not like that! We were tipsy, someone offered us free shots but the catch was we had to kiss, so Hoseok-hyung just grabbed me and kissed me! It wasn’t even a big deal, he would’ve done it with anyone, he didn’t think anything of it, but I—”
He trailed off, chest heaving, color still blooming across his cheeks.
“But I felt something.”
No one interrupted this time.
Jungkook wiped his face. “And now Jackson’s gonna go after him, and I just—I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to come near him.”
The door opened.
Yoongi stepped in, bag over one shoulder, coat half unzipped. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was—” He stopped. Blinked.
The room was completely still again.
Jungkook sat in the middle of the couch looking like he’d been cry-screaming. Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jin were clustered around him, expressions ranging from stunned to somewhere between exorcism and wedding planning.
Yoongi squinted. “...What’s going on.”
Jungkook stood up immediately. “Where’s Hoseok-hyung?”
Yoongi looked mildly startled. “He said to tell you he’s sorry—he already had lunch plans.”
Jungkook paled. “With who?!”
Yoongi frowned. “Uh. His friends? From the dance crew? You okay, man?”
Taehyung raised a hand dramatically. “He thinks he’s in love with Hoseok-hyung, and now Jackson might be trying to seduce him, and we just found out there was a kiss.”
Yoongi stared.
A long pause.
“I’m leaving.”
“No you’re not,” Taehyung said sweetly, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him down onto the couch next to Jimin.
“I hate all of you.”
“We know,” Jin said fondly.
Yoongi pointed at Jungkook. “Just confess. I’m not doing this again. I already played matchmaker for this two.” He said pointing at Jin and Namjoon.
“I can’t,” Jungkook muttered, collapsing back into the cushions. “He doesn’t feel the same.”
“That might not be true,” Jin said gently. “I thought Namjoon didn’t like me that way. Turns out I was just dumb and blind and ignored all the signs.”
Namjoon smiled at him, soft and affectionate. Jin leaned against his shoulder with a smug grin.
Taehyung leaned forward dramatically. “Then what we need is reconnaissance. We figure out how Hoseok feels. While making sure Jackson doesn’t slither in with his dancer abs and disrupt the natural romantic order.”
Jimin stood up. “Operation Get Hopekook Together is a go!”
“Hopekook?” Namjoon asked.
“I prefer Koobi, it sounds cuter” Taehyung suggested.
“It’s Hopekook! And That’s final!” Jimin sentenced.
“It’s a working title,” Jin said.
Jimin, Jin, and Taehyung threw their arms in the air, cheering.
Namjoon looked slightly alarmed. Jungkook looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. And Yoongi was already halfway to getting back up.
But for the first time in days, Jungkook felt something that wasn’t panic.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe he wasn’t alone.
And maybe, just maybe, he still had time.