Chapter Text
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
The dinner starts out normal enough, except for the fact that Seokjin and Hoseok came and asked him to dinner instead of Jungkook conning them into feeding him like usual or playing the “I Just Got Dumped” card. It’s past the bounds of that being effective anyway, eight months not really qualifying as “just” anymore. Jungkook isn’t one to look a gift hyung in the mouth, however, so he ignores the niggling feeling of weirdness at the back of his mind . It all seems fine, anyway. Jungkook pours a round of soju shots and Seokjin commandeers the tongs to grill the meat, piling a substantial portion onto Jungkook’s plate when it’s ready.
“I’ll eat well,” Jungkook says, and promptly shoves an over-full lettuce wrap into his mouth whole. This is categorically the best way to eat them, because he can get a taste of all the flavors at once. It’s science, it’s the optimized bite.
It’s then, lulled into a sense of security with his cheeks full, that Hoseok strikes. He claps his hands together commandingly, just like he used to as dance club leader in college.
“Jay Kay-yah,” he starts, using his Announcement Voice. Jungkook stops chewing out of respect. “Hyungs have some news.”
Jungkook forces the mouthful of food down his throat with some difficulty. Hoseok and Seokjin are looking at him expectantly, like they want him to guess what the news is. He narrows his eyes. “Are you pregnant?”
“Of course we’re not pregnant,” Seokjin answers. “How would that work?”
“Well I don’t know, hyung, I’ve never wanted to think that hard about your sex life!”
“Yah, you should be so lucky to be involved in our sex life!” Seokjin sniffs, wagging a finger at him. A woman at the table to their left looks over, but Seokjin’s in full bluster mode and pays her no mind. “It is hotter than you could imagine! Hotter than anything your little brain could dream up!”
“I think we’re getting off topic,” Hoseok says, patting Seokjin’s arm consolingly. “We’re not here to talk about our, admittedly incredible,” Jungkook groans in disgust. “sex life.”
Jungkook thinks about what else could necessitate a meat bribe before telling him. “Are you dying?”
“I’d hope not,” Hoseok chirps. “Seeing as how we’re getting married.”
Jungkook’s first, immediate response is to tear up a little. Watching Seokjin and Hoseok’s love story play out has been like a romcom, and Jungkook has always cried at happy endings. He remembers Hoseok telling him and Jimin about the super hot guy he met hiding in the corner of a movie premiere party, and how shy he was, then Seokjin had proceeded to bombard Hoseok with drink requests every day until Hoseok had caved. Jungkook shoves another lettuce wrap into his mouth and coughs as he chokes it down, to disguise the tears a bit.
“That’s so–” He starts, then gets cut off by another cough. He gulps down a little water. “Congratulations, hyungs. I’m so happy for you. How did this happen? Did you successfully petition the government to legalize gay marriage?”
If there’s anyone who could do it, it’d be these two. Seokjin is really charming and persuasive despite his best efforts to be a recluse, not to mention all his press connections, and Hoseok is actually terrifying. With their combined powers, the president wouldn’t stand a chance.
“No, it won’t be legally recognized here,” Seokjin explains. “But that’s not really what’s important to us. We’re making a commitment to each other, and the only ones who really have to recognize that is… well, us.” Seokjin says all this while looking down at his plate, poking at his food with the end of one chopstick. His ears are the color of a fire truck. Hoseok is looking away too, cheeks pinks and dimples popping out with the shy, embarrassed smile on his face. Seokjin clears his throat and raises the pitch of his voice to his usual, Never Known A Sentiment In My Life tone. “Us, and all our closest friends and family! Experiencing this touching and beautiful moment with us in Hawaii!”
“Consider this your unofficial save the date!” Hoseok adds with a small pair of jazz hands. Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out a sunny, golden yellow envelope and slides it across the table. “And consider this your official save the date!”
Jungkook picks up the envelope. It’s made of a nice, heavy cardstock that has a slight sheen under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. He slides his fingernail beneath the seam and cracks the seal, pulling out the invitation inside. The majority of the paper is occupied by a photo of the two of them looking intimidatingly attractive. They’re not smiling, instead very much smoldering into the camera. Seokjin is seated on a wine-colored velvet couch, Hoseok draped over the side and half-leaning on Seokjin’s shoulder. They’re wearing coordinating silk shirts, Seokjin’s unbuttoned to such a low point on his chest that Jungkook is sure Hoseok had to bribe him with something Jungkook would rather not know about to get him to take the photo like that. The text is gold and shimmery, scrolling across the top in a tasteful arch.
Save the date! It reads. And below the photo, in a sophisticated script: Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok request the honor of your presence as they celebrate their marriage.
Jungkook flips the invitation over.
When: November 7th, 2022
Where: The Grand Wailea Resort, Maui
There’s a handwritten note in Seokjin’s familiar script right below the where, reading Jungkook-ah, will you be one of my groomsmen?
“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps. “That’s not even a question. Of course I will.”
He skims over the rest, something about all-inclusive packages and an itinerary to follow shortly. Jungkook is pretty sure Hoseok already has all of it completely planned down to the minute, but probably wanted to seem chill. They’ve chosen a charity in lieu of a gift registry because they’re rich, and also just good people. It’s not until the bottom of the invitation that Jungkook’s heart gives a traitorous little drop in his chest.
Plus ones welcome.
Maybe he can bring Bam. They allow dogs in five-star resorts, right? That seems like an accommodation that should be made once you reach a certain price point. Jungkook can even get him a little suit, a doggy bowtie or something. That would be cute. Very William Wegman of him. He can ask Hoseok what store he likes to buy Mickey clothes at, though knowing Hoseok he has a brand deal with Canine Versace or something. The perks of being a celebrity stylist.
He looks up, opening his mouth to ask if the place allows dogs, when he catches sight of Hoseok and Seokjin’s faces. Hoseok’s cheeks are dimpling again, but these are worry dimples– the ones that come when he’s got his mouth turned down and stretched out into a tense triangle. He’s got an upset little crease in the center of his forehead. Seokjin isn’t even looking at Jungkook, instead glaring at the table and busily shoving meat in his face at an impressive and concerning rate, and Jungkook is sure he’s not tasting any of it.
“Okay,” Jungkook sighs. “Spit it out.” Seokjin looks confused at that, eyes widening and cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, and Jungkook hurries to clarify “Not the meat! I mean metaphorically!”
“Jiminie is coming,” Hoseok says in a rush, eyes wide and guilty. Seokjin starts to choke on the sheer amount of meat in his mouth. “He’s in my wedding party.”
Jungkook blinks. “Okay.”
Hoseok pounds Seokjin on the back. “You’re okay with it?”
“He’s one of your best friends,” Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side. “I would never expect you not to invite him just because he also happens to be my ex.”
Happens to be my ex might be understating it a little, but it is true. Jimin happens to be Jungkook’s ex, and also happens to be his longest, closest friend. They haven’t spoken in eight months though, not since the night Jimin walked out the door of their shared apartment with a suitcase, so that might have to be put into the past tense now. Jungkook’s not sure that he likes that.
Seokjin spits out a mouthful of half-chewed, masticated pork belly onto his plate and chokes out “He’s coming with a plus one. He and Taehyung are together.”
Jungkook freezes. “Ah,” he manages eventually. “Okay.”
Seokjin and Hoseok look at him skeptically. “Okay?” Hoseok repeats.
“Yup.” Jungkook pops the ‘p’, and resists the urge to down his shot of soju. It is okay. Really. He doesn’t know why his heart is currently lodged somewhere down near his liver rather than where it belongs. It’s been eight months.
Truthfully, it’s been even longer than that. The end of Jimin-and-Jungkook was a very slow and steady cool down. That is, until a sudden cold front named Kim Taehyung arrived from Paris about a month before Jimin sat Jungkook down on the couch and told him gently, holding one of Jungkook’s hands in both of his tiny ones, that they were over. And maybe Jungkook should have put up a bit more of a fight for a two-year relationship, and their much longer friendship before that, but he thinks maybe those things were also the reason he didn’t fight it. Instead it was a whimper, not a bang, not even a door slam on Jimin’s way out. He had closed it as quietly and carefully as always, the mechanical whir and click of the lock sliding back into place and Jungkook’s own breathing the only sounds left. He didn’t even cry until later, mortifyingly, in the convenience store at almost midnight. The clerk was kind enough to avert her eyes while he sobbed in the frozen foods, realizing that he would only have to buy his own favorite ice cream from now on.
So, yeah. It wasn’t ever the break up that was the surprising part, not really. The surprising part was how much it all hurt anyway.
“We just wanted to make sure you were prepared,” Hoseok says in the here and now. “You’re both so important to us.”
That’s the problem when the venn diagram of your friendship groups is one flat circle, too overlapped to ever untangle. It’s also the problem with breakups that aren’t really anyone’s fault, because then there are no clear sides to take. Jungkook wonders if they had tip-toed around Jimin too, or if it was just Jungkook, since he was the one who had technically been dumped. It would have been funny if it weren't so sad, the bending over backwards that all of his hyungs had done to avoid talking about Jimin in his presence. It had gotten to be so ridiculous that Jungkook had to text them all and tell them that it was fine. He wanted to know that Jimin was still seeing his friends, that he was okay. Jimin’s too nice, and feels too deeply for it to have been easy on him to do what was right and break Jungkook’s heart.
He supposes Taehyung was the one that was comforting him. That’s probably why Jungkook hasn’t seen too much of him in the last eight months, despite the good friend he had been shaping up to be. That’s nice, Jungkook is glad that Jimin had comfort. That’s why Jungkook got Bam. He’s been trying to train him to give hugs now that he’s almost to his full size.
“I appreciate the warning, hyungs,” Jungkook says, managing a smile. “But I’ll be fine. I’m happy for them.”
Seokjin eyes him, and evidently deems what he finds acceptable because he nods once, and seems to decide that he’s had enough emotions for the evening. He signals this by slamming a palm on the table, rattling the silverware and partially empty glasses. “This is our wedding. The only ones you should be happy for are us!”
“I feel sorry for Hobi-hyung, actually,” Jungkook smirks. Seokjin gasps in affront. “He’ll have to deal with you forever now.”
Seokjin takes a mournful sip of his soju, shaking his head. “You raise a kid on your back–”
“You didn’t meet me until I was 20.”
“ On. Your. Back,” Seokjin repeats emphatically. “Pouring in blood, sweat, and tears to make him what he is today–”
“Not sure you should be too proud of that.”
“And all you get is constant interruptions and betrayal.”
Hoseok throws himself bodily across the table to hug Jungkook with his wiry little arms, smacking him repeatedly in the face with small kisses, cooing about how they are very proud of their Jungkookie. It feels good, Jungkook giggling and letting the praise fill him up with warmth like it always does. Seokjin continues to lament on the trials of fatherhood. The night relaxes into something resembling normal, and Jungkook gets swept away in the specific brand of distraction that his hyungs are adept at providing.
It’s when he’s on the way home, belly warm and full, that he starts to overthink things. The subway is pretty empty, and he stares at the unoccupied seats across from him without really seeing them, lost in swirling thoughts.
It’s not that he has hard feelings towards Jimin. He doesn’t. The feelings themselves are hard, hard to swallow and digest and understand, but they’re not directed at Jimin. When they went from friends to lovers, they really went from friends to friends who kiss and fuck exclusively and share a bedroom. The way they loved each other didn’t really change.
Maybe it wasn’t ever like Seokjin and Hoseok’s love, but no two loves are the same right? It’s not a bad thing. But watching his two hyungs, so sure of themselves and the commitment they want to make to each other despite everything… he and Jimin were never like that. They were never going to be like that. He forgets why they got together in the first place, other than it seemed like the thing to do. It’s the stuff people love to tell their grandchildren, the story of childhood best friends experiencing all of their firsts side by side until they realized that their first love was also their last. It’s a fairy tale.
If only the fairy tale had turned out to be true, right?
It’s not until one of the few other passengers on the subway, a college girl who seems to be on the way home from a night out, silently hands him a tissue that he realizes he’s crying again. She looks a little awkward, and Jungkook can’t blame her. For someone who cries perhaps a bit more than the average person, he’s never known what to do with other people’s tears. Jimin knew. Jimin had his soft, small hands that would press up onto Jungkook’s cheeks with just the right amount of grounding pressure. He’d wipe away the tears with gentle sweeps of his thumbs and not care about any snot that got on his sleeves. His voice was just the right pitch for soothing murmurs too, always whispering and cooing at him not to cry, that everything was okay.
Thinking about that just makes a fresh flood of tears wash down his face. The girl eyes him sympathetically, and passes him the whole little package of tissues from her purse. Jungkook dips his head in thanks, and makes a hasty exit as soon as the train stops. He stands on the curb and tries to take deep breaths, despite the hitching in his lungs.
Without realizing it, he’s gotten off at Yongsan Station like he’s going to go to Yoongi’s studio. It’s always where he’d go in the earlier days after the breakup, when he couldn’t bear to be in the apartment anymore. Maybe he should have moved when he and Jimin had broken up, so there weren’t so many places he could so clearly see Jimin’s absence. Instead he’d just tried to fill all the spaces where Jimin used to be up with himself– new clothes in the empty half of the closet, a dog crate in the spot that used to hold Jimin’s favorite armchair. And on the days that didn’t work, when the house was too quiet and his mind was too loud, he’d go to Yoongi’s studio.
It’s been a safe haven for years now, even before Jimin and Jungkook were together. There’s something about being in the studio that makes Jungkook feel like the world outside doesn’t exist. Genius Lab is its own warm bubble where time moves differently and nothing can hurt him. The gentle LED lighting and dark furniture and the faint scent of cedar in the air can make any knot in Jungkook’s spine untangle. It has everything he needs— the best speakers, lots of cool equipment he can mess around on, and Yoongi.
Not that he’d ever tell any of the others, but Yoongi is Jungkook’s favorite hyung. They met in college, and Jungkook thought that he was the coolest, most intimidating sunbae ever until he walked in on him fully crying at a picture of his dog dressed up like a bucket of fried chicken for Halloween. When he’s onstage, he’s on fire, and he’s the hottest person Jungkook has ever seen. Offstage he’s a soft, weird little creature of a man. But he also just has something steady about him. He’s always joked that he wants to be a rock in his next life, but he kind of already is, at least for Jungkook.
Jungkook glances at the time on his phone screen. It’s late, but not late enough that Yoongi will be asleep. He’s a nocturnal animal, late nights a habit he never got out of.
Jungkook presses call on Yoongi’s contact. The line clicks after two rings. “Hello?” Yoongi asks, and something in Jungkook settles instantly. “Gguk-ah?”
“H-hey, hyung,” Jungkook chokes out. “Are you home right now?”
“I’m at the studio,” he replies, and Jungkook relaxes even more. He doesn’t ask if Jungkook is alright, and Jungkook is intensely grateful for that fact. Yoongi could probably tell that he was falling apart from the very first syllable. “Actually, do you have some time? I have some demos that could really use some guide vocals. You know that hyung isn’t much of a singer, no one will want to buy these if it’s my voice that’s selling it.”
Jungkook almost laughs, which was probably Yoongi’s goal. One, because Yoongi could sell anything. He’s that good. Two, because Jungkook’s voice isn’t exactly a moneymaker right now either. It probably sounds like shit, cracking every other word and stuffed with tears. But he and Yoongi are similar, and Yoongi knows that Jungkook likes to feel useful when he’s really upset. If he’s productive, he can’t get too stuck in his thoughts and think himself into a spiral. He’s like those sharks that can’t stop swimming or they’ll stop breathing. At least if he has something to do he won’t feel like a bother, and isn’t just showing up to cry on all of Yoongi’s expensive equipment.
Jungkook nods before he remembers that Yoongi can’t see him. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says, as if Jungkook is the one doing him a favor when they both know it’s the other way around. “See you soon.”
The line clicks again, Yoongi hanging up without fanfare. Yoongi’s company building is only a short walk away, but Jungkook fishes his headphones out of his pocket anyway and puts on some Troye Sivan loud enough to drown out anything in his own head. By the time he makes it there, the tears have dried to tacky tracks on his cheeks and he’s gotten his breathing back under control enough to have some adequate vocal support.
The receptionist knows him by now, though he doesn’t technically work there. He just comes in as a contractor and to keep Yoongi company enough that he’s waved in easily. The building is sleek and modern and grey, the smooth walls lined with album covers for any of the daesang-winners the company has produced. Jungkook likes to count which ones Yoongi’s worked on, so he can embarrass him by talking about all his accomplishments. For all his bravado, genuine compliments always make him go all pink and shy. It’s one of Jungkook’s favorite ways to tease him.
Jungkook kicks his shoes off on top of Yoongi’s stupid doormat with the cat flipping the bird. He knocks on the door before keying in the code, and Yoongi’s low rumbly voice calls out “I never know why you bother knocking.”
“I’ve got some manners,” Jungkook responds, shouldering the door open. Yoongi spins around in his desk chair as Jungkook walks in and throws himself onto the couch against the wall. It’s a soft black leather, all cushion, and always feels like it’s absorbing him into the stuffing. He’s there so often that he thinks there’s a Jungkook-shaped divot in it by now. The novelty Kumamon blanket draped over the back smells like his favorite Downy fabric softener.
Yoongi snorts. “Could have fooled me.”
“You’re the one who gave me the code,” Jungkook points out. “You could change it at any time.”
Yoongi hums, pretending like he’s actually considering it, and Jungkook stretches out one leg to kick at his chair in retaliation. It’s all an act, Yoongi would never lock him out. The others, yeah, but not Jungkook. No one else has been given the code. Not even Hoseok, and Hoseok is kind of Yoongi’s Jimin. Only Hoseok and Yoongi were never together, at least to Jungkook’s knowledge.
“Did you and Hoseok ever date?” Jungkook blurts. Yoongi blinks. He throws a hand out to grab at the desk and stop his spinning chair, leveling Jungkook with a confused look.
“Hob-ah? No. Why? Are you worried about me now that he’s getting married? It’s okay Jungkook-ah, I’m not secretly pining after Hoseok.”
“I didn’t think you were. I just wanted to know.”
“Well, no. We didn’t date. We kissed once at a club, agreed it felt weird, and never did it again.” Yoongi gestures to his computer screen, where a folder full of audio files is pulled up. “Are you going to help me with these guides or what?”
Jungkook grins. “Yeah, show me what you got.”
The songs are great, because of course they are. There’s three that he shows Jungkook, all of them different genres. One is a pop song just shy of bubblegum, one is a more R&B inspired track that Jungkook can hear waiting for some idol rapper to add a verse to, and the last one is a really cinematic ballad.
“Are you going for the OST market now, hyung?” Jungkook teases. “I can really see the Subway ad overlaid onto this one.”
Yoongi fiddles with the levels. “I figured you’d like it. There’s a lot of room for all your runs and ad libs. I know how you like to show off.”
“Are you calling me a show-off hyung?”
“I believe that’s what I just said, yeah,” Yoongi deadpans. Jungkook pouts, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “But you’re good enough that you deserve to be a bit of a show-off.”
Jungkook grins, mollified. “When are you going to write me an EDM song?”
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “Never.”
Jungkook giggles and hops up, going into the booth. He pulls his hair back into a half-ponytail so the headphones won’t mess his new curls up. The hairstylist had talked him into a perm at his last trim, since he wanted to keep it long. “That’s what you think. Pull up that ballad, let’s get it.”
They record the scratch vocals for all three songs. It goes relatively fast once they get down to it. The two of them work well together, both at a similar level of perfectionism. By the time they’re done, Jungkook’s throat is pleasantly strained and he feels satisfied. Yoongi messes around with the harmonies they’d added, and Jungkook sips at a bottle of water. He’s comfortable and successfully distracted.
It shouldn’t surprise him, really, that this hyung lulled him into a false sense of security too.
“Now, do you want to talk about what was bothering you?” Yoongi asks, spinning around to face Jungkook and leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. Jungkook blinks at him. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him expectantly, but Jungkook stubbornly keeps his mouth shut. Eventually, Yoongi huffs a laugh. “Sorry, stupid question. Let me rephrase. You should talk about what’s bothering you, and I’m here to listen when you’re ready.”
“I’m not ready,” Jungkook says immediately. “Have you been hanging out with Namjoon recently, hyung? You’re doing an excellent impression.”
Yoongi flicks him on the forehead so hard it makes a solid thwack sound. “Brat. And you are ready, you just don’t want to.”
Jungkook grins cheekily. “You know me so well.”
Yoongi looks at him, Jungkook having to fight not to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. After a moment he turns back to his computer, naming and saving each file again for security. “Don’t carry it around with you, Gguk-ah. We have a wedding to go to in a month and I think that might put your bag over the weight limit.”
“So poetic, hyung, is that how you got all those awards?”
Yoongi looks back at him, unimpressed. Jungkook sighs.
“Did you know that Jimin is dating Taehyung?” Jungkook asks, even though he suspects he knows the answer. Yoongi’s slightly guilty silence confirms it. “I told Seokin and Hoseok that I was happy for them, and I am. I wasn’t lying. But it makes me feel…” Jungkook thinks. “I don’t think I’m jealous. But it’s kind of… next to jealousy.”
Yoongi starts powering down his computer, checking that all the wires and cables are in their proper spots. Busying himself, so that Jungkook doesn’t feel like he’s being interrogated when Yoongi asks “In what way?”
“I miss Jimin.” Jungkook admits. He flops back down on the couch, letting the cushion swallow him. “Not as my boyfriend, but just him. We’ve known each other since I was 10, you know? So he was kind of just… always there. He was my person, and he was really good at being my person. And I think for a while I did a good job at being his person, too. So we both lost our people when we broke up. But now… he has a new person.”
Yoongi hums. “Mm. And you don’t?”
“And I don’t. I have a dog. A really great dog, but still.” He doesn’t bring up the hugs trick, because as impressive as it is, it makes him feel just a tad too pathetic.
“It sounds to me like knowing Jimin has someone new in his life might be making you feel a bit lonely,” Yoongi comments.
Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Lonely, and like I should have moved on by now.”
Yoongi thinks for a long moment. That’s something else about Min Yoongi: he never says anything just for the sake of talking. He’ll wait until he knows precisely what he wants to say and how to say it.
“There’s no timeline for feelings.” He says eventually. “You can’t just turn your emotions on and off at will. God knows I’ve tried, but that’ll only hurt you more in the long run. If you’re still in love with Jimin, then you’re still in love with Jimin.”
“I’m not though. I wasn’t eight months ago, either. That was the problem.” Jungkook explains. “Neither of us were in love with each other. I don’t think we ever really were, if I’m honest.”
“Then why were you together?” Yoongi doesn’t sound judgemental, just curious.
“Because we wanted to be.” Jungkook shrugs. “We really gave it our best shot too, but I think we just loved each other and convinced ourselves that loving each other and being in love with each other were the same thing.” He sits up, looking at Yoongi. He needs to make sure that Yoongi understands, he doesn’t want him to be mad at him or Jimin. “And it wasn’t like it was bad, it was really nice! Jimin and I were both really happy for a while. We were happy and we were like… comfortable, you know?”
Yoongi nods. “I think I understand. Giving your heart to someone else… It's scary. It’s a risk. It takes a lot of courage to do that.”
Jungkook sags back down. Of course Yoongi gets it, he always does. “Yeah, exactly. Being with each other was good because we were safe. Until I guess Jimin found someone who made him want to take the risk.”
“Could Jimin have ever made you want to take the risk, do you think?” Yoongi asks.
Jungkook thinks. He knows the answer, but it’s hard to admit. It makes him feel even more pathetic than teaching his dog to hug him, makes him feel like he’s some scared little kid. Because the truth is he wants love– all of it, all of the good and bad parts that come with it. Everyone teases him because he cries at movies, and because he wants bells. But more than any magic, he wants a life with someone. He wants lazy mornings in bed, and stupid fights they kiss better later. But it is a risk. Jungkook knows himself, and he knows that if he gives his heart to someone, really truly gives his heart to someone, then he’ll give it all. And then if they leave, what will he have left?
Once, back when he was nearly done with college, he thought maybe he’d be able to give it to Yoongi. That maybe Yoongi could hold Jungkook’s heart in his knobby, sturdy, piano-player’s hands. That if he gave it back, then at least he would give it back in one piece. But Jungkook never quite worked up the nerve, and Yoongi started dating Kihyun. By the time that relationship ended, Jungkook was with Jimin. And now…
He’s already ruined things with Jimin. There’s only so many hyungs he has left. He doesn’t think he could bear it if he ruined it with Yoongi too.
Yoongi is still waiting for an answer, blinking slow and patient and cat-like, so Jungkook shakes his head. “No. He couldn’t have. So I don’t know why it hurts like this. Why does it still hurt, Yoongi-hyung?”
Humiliatingly, Jungkook can feel tears pooling in his eyes again. He takes a deep inhale and stares up at the ceiling, hoping that gravity won’t let them fall. The couch sags next to him, the cushion dipping. A warm body presses up against his, small and solid. Yoongi lets his head fall onto Jungkook’s shoulder, winding an arm around Jungkook’s waist. His long hair tickles Jungkook’s neck, and he giggles despite himself– a wet, sad sound that sounds a little like a sob.
“Because it mattered to you, Jungkook-ah. You might think that it shouldn’t hurt so much, because you weren’t really in love with him. But you loved him still, and you devoted a lot of yourself to him. You’re allowed to miss him. You’re allowed to hurt. It mattered.”
The tears fall, and Yoongi holds him. He doesn’t move his head, even as Jungkook’s shoulders shake. Instead he keeps providing that comforting weight, his warm hand against Jungkook’s side, thumb rubbing gentle circles into his skin.
Crying for the second time in one night gives him a headache once he’s finally run out of tears. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars bloom behind his eyelids. He feels wrung out, like one of his socks hanging to dry after he rinses it out in the sink.
Yoongi is a dead weight against him, despite how his motion must be jostling him, and it takes Jungkook a second to realize that he’s asleep. His cheek is smooshed up against Jungkook’s shoulder, mouth slightly open. His breath comes in warm little puffs. The hand that’s been holding his waist has stopped rubbing circles, but grips him tight still like he’s a plushie. It makes him laugh again, more genuine this time.
“Hyung.” Jungkook raises his shoulder up and down. “Time to wake up.”
Yoongi groans, face scrunching into an adorable, upset pout.
“Come on, hyung,” Jungkook stands up. In the sudden absence of support, Yoongi sways a little before catching himself and blinking up at Jungkook, grumpy and betrayed.
“A+ comforting, thanks hyung.” Jungkook jokes.
“You stopped crying, didn’t you?” Yoongi grumbles. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
And he does feel better, honestly. Not that he’ll ever admit that it did help to talk about his feelings. He tugs Yoongi off the couch, then hands him the sweatshirt slung over the back of his chair when he’s sure he won’t sit down and go back to sleep.
Yoongi livens up when they get outside, the night air carrying a slight chill, the promise of a cool fall to come. They walk towards the subway station together, Yongsan quiet this time of night.
“So, are you feeling better about the whole plus-one situation?” Yoongi asks, walking close enough to Jungkook that their arms brush.
Jungkook considers it. “Well, I feel a bit better about the fact that I’ll have to bring my dog,” he answers. “Like, emotionally, I’m more settled about that fact.”
Yoongi snorts. “You don’t have to bring your dog. Just bring a friend.”
“Hm?”
Yoongi looks at him incredulously. “You really didn’t consider that, did you? You have friends, Jungkook-ah. You can bring one of them.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says.
“Yeah, oh,” Yoongi laughs, reaching up and ruffling Jungkook’s hair with fond, sleepy eyes. He turns towards where the station branches off to different lines, the two of them going in opposite directions. “I’ll see you, yeah? Text hyung when you get home safe.”
He’s watching Yoongi walk away, the weird shuffling walk he does, when it’s like lightning strikes him. The perfect idea, he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. “Hyung!” He calls. Yoongi pauses, looking back around. “You’re a genius!”
Yoongi looks a little confused as Jungkook jogs a bit to close the distance between them. “Well it’s not called Genius Lab for nothing–”
“Be my boyfriend for the wedding,” Jungkook says breathlessly, skidding to a halt in front of Yoongi and swaying forward with inertia. He grips Yoongi’s arms to steady himself. Yoongi’s mouth falls open.
“Be your what?” He asks.
It makes complete sense. This way, if Jungkook gets overwhelmed, he’ll have someone he loves and trusts by his side. Jimin won’t worry for him, and Jungkook will be able to face him without feeling like a complete loser.
And– well, it’ll be the closest he’ll ever get to having Min Yoongi.
“You said to bring a friend,” Jungkook says.
“Yeah, Gguk-ah, as a friend ,” Yoongi explains.
“Please hyung,” Jungkook begs, making his eyes as wide as he can, and pouting just enough to be cute but not ridiculous. It’s the face that always gets him more lamb skewers, always makes Yoongi indulge him. And he can see Yoongi waffling now, teetering on the edge of giving in. “Be my plus one, my… my fake boyfriend, just for the long weekend.”
“Your fake boyfriend,” Yoongi repeats flatly. “You realize how this sounds?”
“Like the best idea ever–”
“Insane, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi interrupts. “Ignoring just the concept in general, you think pretending to date in front of all of our best friends is going to work? They’ll see through it in a second.”
“No they won’t,” Jungkook insists. “They’ll be too distracted by the wedding. Please hyung, just think about it.”
Yoongi huffs, looking away. Jungkook makes his eyes as big as possible, but Yoongi refuses to make eye contact. He looks instead down towards his subway line, watching the train pull away and disappear down the tunnel like he wishes he were on it, or anywhere but having this conversation.
“This is so stupid,” he grouses. “I know you love rom coms, but this is real life. Stuff like this isn’t something you do in real life.”
“I know,” Jungkook says. “In real life you date your best friend, and it goes well until it doesn’t, and then suddenly you’re not best friends anymore and don’t know how to face him. In real life he has someone to turn to and I don’t.”
Yoongi’s expression softens, and he mumbles “Of course you do, Gguk-ah, but–”
He breaks off with a sigh. He’s still not looking at him, instead staring at the Lemona ad on the wall. “You know you can always count on hyung,” he says to the image of Jihyo from Twice cheerfully holding up a packet of Vitamin C powder. “But playing boyfriends is just… a weird way of coping.”
“Think about it, hyung,” Jungkook pleads. “It’ll be fun. Just imagine how much we could traumatize Jin-hyung by making out in front of him.”
Yoongi snorts. Finally, finally he lifts his gaze to Jungkook’s face. There’s a considering little twist to his mouth as his sharp eyes search Jungkook’s own. It feels like he’s seeing straight into Jungkook’s soul, to his taped-up heart. Jungkook hopes that he can’t see all the raw wanting inside of it.
“Fine,” Yoongi sighs, caving. “But you owe me skewers for at least a month.”
“Yes!” Jungkook crows, crushing Yoongi in a hug that he accepts with grace and minimal grumbling, patting Jungkook on the back. “Thank you thank you thank you hyung, you won’t regret this.”
Yoongi looks like he wants to say something to that, but the next train comes into the station before he can. It’s late, close to the last one of the night, and Jungkook should be going to his platform so he doesn’t miss his. Yoongi waves at Jungkook through the glass windows of the train car, smiling something small and wry and soft.
As he watches him go, Jungkook spares a thought that he might regret this. That maybe once he gets a taste of Yoongi, even pretend, he’ll be ruined for anyone else. But he kind of already was, so really– he might as well take what he can get.
A week later, Jungkook is getting fitted for the suit he’ll wear as a member of the wedding party. He feels far too grubby to be in the high-end shop that Hoseok picked out, and doesn’t even want to look at the price tag of the shirt and pants he’s currently being pinned into by a brusque tailor. Hoseok is sitting in an armchair watching, sipping delicately at a glass of champagne. Jungkook wants some of his own, but he’s too afraid to ask if he can drop his arms while the tailor is still hovering somewhere around his middle with sharp objects.
“That shirt really emphasizes your waist,” Hoseok comments approvingly. Then he switches effortlessly from suave and cool to full aegyo, smiling his heart-shaped smile. “Jwe-kwe is sooo handsome.”
Jungkook grins, feeling his nose scrunch. His arms are really getting tired in this pose, but he just tells himself it’s endurance training. He does that all the time.
The door slams open, and Jungkook drops his arms in surprise, wincing as a few pins stick him. Hoseok screams a little, sloshing champagne on himself and pressing a hand to his heart. Namjoon steps sheepishly into the room.
“Sorry, that door was lighter than I expected. Very well-oiled hinges.”
“It’s alright, Joon-ah, you don’t know your own strength,” Seokjin consoles, following Namjoon into the room and patting him on the shoulder. The tailor, who has resumed pinning Jungkook’s pants with perhaps a bit more stabby energy than he had before, doesn’t seem to think it’s as ‘alright’ as Seokjin does.
“No, I know what I bench,” Namjoon says. “I’m very strong.”
“And we’ll emphasize that as much as we can, Joon-ah,” Hoseok says, recovered enough from the shock to give Seokjin a kiss on the cheek and a sip from his champagne flute.
“Jungkook-ah, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Seokjin announces. “Which would you like first?”
“Bad news, I guess,” Jungkook says. Get the bad stuff out of the way, then it can only go uphill from there.
“Bad news is I talked to the hotel this morning, and they said unless Bam is a service dog then he unfortunately cannot come to the hotel with us.” Seokjin says all this while holding up color swatches to Namjoon’s tan face, Hoseok shaking his head or nodding at each one. Namjoon looks disappointed when the sage green is given a head shake rather than a nod.
“Oh, right.” Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I… I asked Yoongi.”
All activity stops, even the tailor’s pinning, and all eyes go to him. Jungkook fights the urge to squirm.
“Yoongi? Min Yoongi?” Namjoon asks.
“Yep.” Jungkook nods.
Seokjin holds up a hand to his hip, much shorter than Yoongi actually is. “About yeigh-high, part gremlin Min Yoongi?”
“That’s the one,” Jungkook confirms.
“And he said yes?” Hoseok asks, tilting his head to the side. He’s frowning, just a little, and trying to hide it.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, stretching the syllable. He’s not really sure that Yoongi did say yes, honestly, but he didn’t say no, so that kind of counts. “Why?”
“Well, it’s just kind of surprising that it finally happened,” Seokjin explains. Jungkook blinks. Finally happened? “I think as far as a first date goes, an all-inclusive resort wedding in Hawaii might be a bit intense, but I suppose it has taken you too long enough.”
It’s silly, very schoolboy, but something in Jungkook glows at Seokjin's words and the ease that his friends accept the lie. He feels giddy with it, and he can tell he’s not entirely successful at suppressing a smile, because Seokjin coos at him and Namjoon lets out a soft aww.
It’s only Hoseok whose mouth is still a little pursed, who has a tense set to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. But Hoseok is Yoongi’s Jimin, so of course he’d be protective– and Jungkook doesn’t exactly have the greatest track record in romantic relationships with Hoseok’s friends. Maybe he’s worried that Jungkook will fuck things up again, fracture the friend group in too irreparable a way. It’s okay though, because it’s not real. The only thing that Jungkook is running the risk of breaking is his own heart, always wanting things. Things like love, and Yoongi, and ideally both those things together.
Foolish thing, his heart.
Hosek keeps looking at him, appraising and too discerning, and then eventually he sits back and says “That looks perfect, Youngjae-ssi. Really amazing work, as always. Jungkook-ah, I think you can get out of that now.”
Jungkook steps off the plinth and heads back to the changing room. His own clothes are completely different from the orange summer suit he’d been meticulously pinned into, both shirt and pants his preferred type of oversized and black. By the time he’s changed and re-emerged so he can watch Namjoon’s fitting, Hoseok seems to have regained his usual cheer. He’s gleefully picking out shirts that’ll properly emphasize Namjoon’s strong frame.
Jungkook settles himself on the floor next to Seokjin’s chair, leaning into his legs until Seokjin gets the hint to start scratching Jungkook’s scalp. He hands down his champagne flute, and Jungkook drains the whole thing just so Seokjin will shout and karate chop his shoulder. They scuffle for a moment before Youngjae the tailor shoots them a warning look, and they settle back against each other.
“Do you ever worry about how obsessed your fiance is with another man’s tits?” Jungkook asks, watching Hoseok try to convince Namjoon to wear a shirt that is very obviously too small in the chest, the buttons straining to close over his sizable pecs.
“Nah,” Seokjin says, refilling his empty champagne flute from the bottle sitting in an ice bucket next to the chair.. “I can’t blame him, really. I mean, it’s understandable.”
The buttons lose their battle against Namjoon’s boobs and burst open, Namjoon’s tan, toned chest on full display. And yeah, it really is understandable.
“Hey hyung?” Jungkook asks. Seokjin hums. “What was the good news?”
“Oh,” Seokjin blinks, having forgotten. “Right. Just that I found some promising plus one options on Craigslist after posting a photo of your abs. Lots of responses, your ego should be very stroked. But you’ve got Yoongi to stroke you now,” Seokjin winks exaggeratedly. “So I suppose it’s not needed. I want the juicy details, by the way, of how you finally asked him out. As your publicist, I need to know.”
“You’re not my publicist, and please delete that post,” Jungkook says, trying to hide the flare of nerves in his stomach. He’s not going to tell Seokjin that he asked Yoongi out on the subway platform after crying on him all night, and also that oh yeah, it’s all fake. “Right now.”
The next time Seokjin is called over by Hoseok to help out with a fabric choice, Jungkook pulls his phone out and texts Yoongi.
me
hyung, meet me tomorrow for mission briefing
yoongi-hyung
???
what mission
me
be incognito
Yoongi meets him at the coffee shop that he’s deemed the best within a ten-block radius of his studio, dressed in loose jeans and a fuzzy blue sweater that Jungkook immediately wants to rub his face on. He looks soft, and warm, and entirely like himself.
“I told you to be incognito,” Jungkook hisses as Yoongi joins him at the table bearing a steaming mug. “You’re not even wearing a mask!”
Jungkook himself is wearing all-black, hair tucked up into a black beanie, face covered by massive black sunglasses and a black mask. It’s a little inconvenient that he has to keep tugging it up and down whenever he wants a sip of his drink or a bite of his pastry, but it’s for stealth.
Yoongi looks unbothered. “I’m hiding in plain sight,” He insists. “No one would suspect me of anything nefarious right now, I’m just going about my totally normal day. You, on the other hand, look like a very suspicious character. It’s raining, and you’re wearing sunglasses indoors.”
Jungkook rips the glasses off his face. “Well maybe I was hungover or something, and the light hurt my head.”
Yoongi sips his drink. “Mm-hmm.”
“Whatever,” Jungkook says, waving away Yoongi’s blatant disregard for spy protocol. “We need to decide our backstory. I think Hoseok is onto us.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen. “What makes you say that?”
“He was just acting a little strange when I said that I’d asked you to the wedding,” Jungkook explains. “He got all tense and just seemed like… worried, or something.”
“Hoseok is one of the most highly strung people I know, and he’s getting married,” Yoongi points out. “Of course he was worried. He wants everything to be perfect.”
“Yeah, but he was all happy and smiley before then. It was only when I said that we were going together that he got all weird .”
“Did he say anything?” Yoongi asks, too quickly to be nonchalant.
Jungkook shakes his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “Not really? Just repeated what I said, basically. Asked if you said yes.” Yoongi relaxes back into his seat. “But hey, Seokjin and Namjoon hyungs both bought it really easily!”
“Of course they did,” Yoongi mutters, picking at the label on his drink. He looks back up at Jungkook. “Don’t worry about Hoseok, I’ll take care of him.” Then he smiles, a small, mischievous grin. “Just worry about how you wooed me. I want romance, Gguk-ah.”
Jungkook snorts. “You hate romance.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Fine.” He crosses his arms. Jungkook can play this game, and he can win. “I filled your studio with a dozen– no, that’s only twelve– with five dozen roses.” Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “I had a poem that I wrote for you in which I confessed all of my feelings. It was very gooey.” Yoongi shudders slightly. “At the last line, I cupped your face in my hands and gave you a very tender, but also extremely filthy kiss.”
Yoongi’s face relaxes. “Okay, well for one thing, you won’t be filling my studio with anything. But… the kiss part could be okay.”
For a brief moment, Jungkook’s thoughts grind to a halt. His mind loops nothing but the kiss might be okay Yoongi wants me to kiss him Min Yoongi wants me, Jeon Jungkook, to kiss him . But then the engines kick back on again, and remind him that it’s just for the act, just for the story.
Yoongi’s still talking, looking thoughtfully out the window to where the rain trickles down the glass. He’s tapping at the tabletop with his long fingers. “It makes sense. Everyone knows that you’re the only one with my studio code, and that you spend a lot of time there with me. We could have… I don’t know, we could have been working on a love song or something. Late at night, when we’re too tired to have our guards up. And we just… couldn’t deny it anymore, and we kissed.”
Jungkook blinks.
He can picture it, is the thing. Really, really easily. Late enough that everything’s gone a little hazy. He gets a bit giddy when he’s tired sometimes, giggly and prone to acting without thinking, mind quiet enough that his heart can drown it out for once. If there was a romantic song playing, he and Yoongi both swept up in the mood and the satisfaction of creating something… Jungkook pictures himself, leaning in close so they can both see the screen as they adjust levels and samples, so close that he can smell the citrusy shampoo Yoongi likes and feel his breath. He pictures himself turning to look at Yoongi, opening his mouth to ask him something, and getting distracted by the way the blue-ish glow of the computer monitor shines off the tip of Yoongi’s nose and pink lips. Maybe Yoongi turns slightly, feeling Jungkook’s gaze, and maybe he asks Jungkook what the matter is. And maybe Jungkook feels brave for once, and leans in, and closes the gap between them.
“Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi asks, pulling Jungkook from the daydream as soon as he gets to the good part. Longing floods his chest like water. “Does that sound okay?”
It sounds perfect. “Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, voice sounding hollow in his own ears. He manages a weak, teasing smile before tugging his mask back up to hide his faltering expression. “Didn’t know you had it in you, hyung. That was so romantic.”
“Yah,” Yoongi protests, lightly swatting Jungkook on the arm. He sniffs. “I contain multitudes.”
“Sure, hyung. So, what base have we gotten to?”