Chapter Text
“How was Seven today?” Jeonggeuk asks as he sets his backpack down on the carpet. He had just come from class, day mostly completed and feeling excited to spend the evening with his friends.
Yoongi looks up from his computer on his apartment sofa, wearing a cute pair of black rim glasses. The image cause Jeonggeuk’s mouth to turn upwards in a fond smirk. Yoongi’s collarbones were exposed from the neck of his loose cotton shirt, his hair messy as though he’d been running his fingers through it for hours. Strands stuck out in every direction.
“He’s good,” Yoongi’s voice is low and relaxed. The gruff tones reverberate into a purr from his chest. “He had a PEMF session this morning and the bodyworker said there was no notable soreness.”
Yoongi shifts, his exposed thighs unsticking from the leather sofa with a shhhp! He grimaces, settling with his knees pulled up and facing the younger.
“That’s great,” Jeonggeuk says, settling himself down across from the older man. He leans into the cushions with a sigh. “Did he tell you congratulations on a successful show weekend?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, smiling and shutting the lid of his laptop. He moves the device to the coffee table, effectively finishing his work for the evening. “Yes, he did,” Yoongi entertained the query. “He said, ‘Congratulations,’ to you too.”
Jeonggeuk smiled fondly, bunny teeth exposed in a white grin. He’s amused and happy, despite the approaching finals week. “How does it feel to have qualified for Zones, now that all the adrenaline has passed?” he asked, reminding the senior of what had occurred over the weekend prior. “Do you think you’ll be ready?”
With the completion of the last show of the calendar year, the teams third overall out of five for the season, Jeonggeuk and Yoongi had both placed successfully. Jeongguek took home two first places, Yoongi bringing home multiple ribbons as well, with two over fences and two on the flat.
To make it to Zones in IHSA, a rider would need to collect 36 points throughout the season in any of the lower divisions, or 28 points for the Open level. Each placing corresponds to a number of points: 1st = 7 pts, 2nd = 5 pts, 3rd = 4 pts, 4th = 3 pts, 5th = 2 pts, and 6th = 1 pt. As a rider shows and places during the season, they accumulate their points as a means of qualifying for additional competition. Jeonggeuk’s Introductory division, as well as almost all others, roll over from season to season, allowing riders to utilize their entire IHSA career and hopefully qualify for zones at least once before graduating. The Open points start over every school year, given that it is the highest level of the program.
Jeonggeuk had now taken home a total of six first places for his introductory level, giving him 42 points out of necessary 36 to qualify, meaning not only would he be showing Introductory at Zones but he was also boosted into the Pre-Novice division for his sophomore year. Once meeting the points required to qualify for zones, the next season’s competition would be at one level higher than what the rider had been previously competing.
Yoongi had two 2nds and 4 firsts on the flat for open, giving him 38 points and qualifying him as well. Over fences, since he had been disqualified at the team’s second show, his first of the season, he only had two firsts, two seconds and a third place. Even so, this put him at 32 points and qualified him for Zones over fences. Yoongi was thrilled.
The team had also been elated. The past weekend the team had cheered enthusiastically, wrapping their captain in a group hug with tears and cries of joy. Yoongi’s own cat-eyes had been glassy with moisture as he tried to hide the emotion from the rest of the girls. Jeongguek engulfed him in a tight hug, burying his face into Yoongi’s pale neck, blowing hot air and pressing soft kisses to which the cheers erupted all over again.
Now Monday, after a full day of classes and a late Sunday evening spent reviewing the weekend events with their housemates (and Jimin and Taehyung) the two teammates were exhausted and ready for a relaxed evening.
“I think so,” Yoongi answered after a moment, pulling Jeonggeuk from the fresh memory. He toyed with the hem of his loose, white T-shirt, occupying his large, pale hands as he tried to find the words to proceed. “I feel a little bit better with every show, I think. We still have two more team shows before Zones so I’m hoping Coach lets me ride at those, even though I don’t need the points, just to for practice.”
“I’m sure she will,” Jeonggeuk reassured the older. “Taylor is a freshman and I can’t imagine she will be pressed about you getting the extra ride time during your final year on the team. Taylor is a strong rider. I’m sure she will have no issue qualifying next year.”
Yoongi hummed in agreement.
“Are you okay?” Jeonggeuk asked, tilting his head and peering at Yoongi’s pinched eyebrows and minutely pained expression. “I would have thought you’d be happier. Did something happen today?”
Yoongi let out a resolute sigh, raising his gaze from his restless fingers to stare into Jeonggeuk’s brown, wide doe-eyes. Jeonggeuk frowned in concern, raising his legs to be crisscrossed on the sofa and leaning forward towards the senior, resting his left elbow on the back of the couch to support the position. He listened attentively as Yoongi answered.
“Haley texted me, mostly just to say, ‘Congratulations,’ and wish me luck on my exams and to have a good winter break, but she also said that Seven will need to be sold by the end of spring, around graduation. She asked if I was interested and said she would be willing to work out payment terms if I needed, which is extremely generous and obviously I said yes, I want to purchase him, but I don’t have a full-time job lined up for after graduation yet and I’m just not sure if I can afford him.”
“I remember you said fifteen thousand a couple of months ago,” Jeonggeuk recalled, nodding as he let the information soak in. “What exactly is your budget, ideally?”
Yoongi took a deep breath, exhaling and looking up towards the ceiling, before answering. “I think I could only comfortably spend about seven thousand,” he chuckled, “which is funny given his name. On my current part-time income, I could afford his board and miscellaneous expenses, but I can’t completely deplete my savings because what if he colics or has a major injury? I wouldn’t be able to afford the vet bills. Owning him would basically put me living month-to-month, and that’s only if I stayed here with a full house of roommates to keep rent cheap.”
Jeonggeuk hummed, thinking dutifully. Seven thousand dollars is almost half the asking amount, meaning somehow, they would have to come up with an additional eight thousand to purchase the grey horse. “Well, winter break will be here before you know it. Once we get into January, you can start getting your resume out. Hopefully you can get something lined up, or maybe even start your training for a full-time job before graduation.”
Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning his head to the side to rest it on the top cushion of the couch. “Yeah,” he sighed, despondent, and exhausted, holding back emotional tears as he finished his thought, “I’m just so scared to lose him.”
Yoongi’s voice cracked as the sentence escaped his lips.
Jeonggeuk scooted closer immediately, closing the short distance and pressing both hands onto Yoongi’s bare knees, exposed from the edges of his black basketball shorts. Jeonggeuk rubbed his thumbs over the smooth skin, staring intently at the man’s face whose eyes remained tightly shut.
“You’re not going to lose him, Hyung,” Jeonggeuk reassured the senior. “I’m not going to let that happen. Hyungs won’t let that happen. The team won’t let that happen. I’m sure of it.”
He continued to trace shapes with his thumb, tickling the hairs on Yoongi’s shins and squeezing his knees occasionally. It took a moment before Yoongi opened his eyes, the sclera appearing red and wet.
“Oh, Jagi,” Jeonggeuk murmured, his heart aching as he reached forward to wrap the older in a tight hug. Yoongi fell into his grasp, tears of fear and stress rolling down his cheeks, staining Jeonggeuk’s black T-shirt. He rubbed the senior’s back, drawing small circles and continuing to whisper reassurance as the silent cries continued.
“Everything is going to be okay, Hyung,” Jeonggeuk whispered. Yoongi’s eyes were pressed tightly into his chest. “Hyungie. Jagi, everything will be okay. I promise.”
With Yoongi sent to shower, wash his face and change into fresh clothes, Jeonggeuk decided to make his way upstairs to join Seokjin working on dinner. Despite it being a Monday, it was an evening that the entire friend group was available to spend together, and the group had made plans to eat together and start a new Netflix show now that they’d finished The Glory a few weeks ago.
Seokjin stood at the kitchen sink, washing vegetables thoroughly as his younger brother approached. The faucet rushed, pushing air filled water out and onto the greens that occupied the older’s hands. Water pooled at the bottom of the white ceramic.
“Hyung,” Jeonggeuk greeted. Seokjin’s head rose and he offered a nod.
“Jeonggeukie,” Seokjin responded, “grab Hyung the gochujang from the fridge, will you?”
Jeonggeuk pulled the red chili paste from the center shelf of the old Frigidaire and set it down next to his older brother. The entire kitchen was bland, old appliances from the 1990s occupying the space alongside a light-brown stained cabinet set. It always made Jeonggeuk feel as though he’d stepped into a time machine, though the construction didn’t resemble anything of a similar time-period in his home country.
“Thank you,” Jin said, shutting off the water and picking up the paste to turn towards the kitchen island.
“I want to talk to you about something before Hyung comes upstairs,” Jeonggeuk spoke tentatively. He wrung his hands anxiously, his posture rigid as he remained next to the sink despite Jin fluttering around the kitchen. The white laminate countertop rest underneath Jin’s long fingertips as he paused, turning his full attention to the freshman across the room.
“What is it?” his tone was alarmed, eyes tight and worried. Jin was, despite his goofy and loud nature, fiercely protective of his friends; especially Yoongi, Jeonggeuk had learned. It wasn’t surprising to see Seokjin lock into conversation, the words, “I want to talk to you,” igniting stress into the older’s heart as soon as they were muttered. Jeonggeuk sighed.
“Has Yoongi Hyung mentioned Seven is for sale?” he asked his older brother, unsure how up-to-date Jin was with the situation. He assumed, out of everyone that would know, Seokjin and Hoseok were the most likely two.
Seokjin nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed, “He told me Haley was ready to let him go a while ago. I haven’t heard much since. I assumed Yoongi would be purchasing him. Is that not the case?”
Jeonggeuk frowned. “He wants to,” he explained, “but Hyung says Haley is asking fifteen thousand for him.”
“Fifteen thousand US dollars?” Seokjin repeated, surprised. His voice trailed up at the end of the question, morphing into a mouse-like squeal. “I didn’t know horses were so expensive.”
Jeonggeuk chuckled a humorless laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I wanted to ask if you would be willing to contribute, to help Hyung have enough money to buy him. I don’t expect much, obviously, but I wanted to ask if you were willing to and/or able.”
“Of course, Geukie,” Jin breathed. “Of course I’m willing and able. I’m his only Hyung. I have to help him. How much does he need?”
Jeonggeuk grimaced, picking up his right hand, bare of any tattoos, to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “Eight thousand,” he answered, unable to meet Jin’s eye.
Jin gasped. “Eight thousand US dollars,” he repeated again. A silence sat between them, tense and hesitant, as Seokjin processed the number. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah,”Jeonggeuk leaned his elbows on the island, dropping his head onto his forearms. He pressed his forehead onto the soft flesh, shutting his eyes and hiding in the darkness for a few seconds.
He heard Seokjin step closer, felt his brother rub his back just as he had for Yoongi earlier. Jeonggeuk took a deep, stuttering breath.
“Don’t worry, Geukah,” Seokjin soothed. “Hyung will help. I’ll talk to Namjoonie tonight and see what we can pull together. I’m sure the others will want to contribute too.”
“Contribute to what?” Jeonggeuk’s head snapped up, eyes wide. His heart began racing anxiously, beating excessively as blood flilled his ears and drowned out his other senses.
To his immense relief, in front of the two brothers stood Taehyung and Jimin, having somehow snuck into the home during the intense conversation. His shoulders sagged in relief, and he stood up again. Jin stepped away to resume preparing dinner, as he explained the situation to their friends.
Jimin listened intently, his brows furrowed and his soft blonde hair framing his face prettily. Everyone was dressed comfortably for the evening, wearing oversized cotton hoodies and sweatpants, and Jimin’s pink top was a burst of color in the group’s otherwise grey, black and navy tones.
“We will help too,” he agreed instantly. “Right, Taehyungie?”
Taehyung nodded, his curls bouncing with the action. “Of course,” his deep timber voice echoed across the kitchen. “Eight thousand total. Okay.”
“I think I can do at least two,” Jeonggeuk supplied. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin’s eyebrows rose at the number. “I was planning on getting a bike this summer. I have some money saved. I don’t need a bike. Hyung needs Seven.”
“Wow,” Jimin spoke, his voice hushed and in awe. “You must really care about him.”
Jeonggeuk’s own eyes filled with tears, the stress of the evening finally catching up to him. “I do,” he confirmed and Jimin launched himself across the room, wrapping the youngest in a firm hug.
“Well, that leaves six thousand,” Taehyung pointed out, peering at Jin. “I am sure between the five of us, we can gather another 2 to 4. What about the team?” he turned his attention to Jeonggeuk. “Do you think they would help?”
“I think so,” Jeonggeuk said. I’ll talk to Taylor about it tomorrow.”
“We will figure it out,” Jimin said, letting go of the youngest. “Don’t worry Geukie.”
Jeonggeuk pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to gather himself before Yoongi came upstairs and caught site of him. He heard the front door open and close, Hoseok and Namjoon’s voices filling the house as they discussed music themes of an artist’s latest album release.
Jeonggeuk’s heart rate slowed slightly, the stress lifting from his shoulders. He needn't have worried, he reminded himself. Everything would be okay. He was sure of it.
Just like he told Yoongi.
“This looks like a serious conversation,” Namjoon says as the two enter the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Jin answered quickly. Distantly, the shower downstairs was heard to shut off. Yoongi will be coming upstairs soon. “Now, everyone get out of my kitchen.”
“Hyung!” Hoseok protested. Jin’s strong hands pushed the younger’s back, jolting him forward into the hallway that would take the group to the living room. Hoseok laughed, tripping on his loose sweats as he exited the room. “Aish. Asshole.”
“How am I an asshole when I am lovingly cooking my family dinner?” Jin argued, voice high pitched and offended. Jeonggeuk felt his lips turn into a smile.
“We want to help!” Hoseok called, throwing himself down onto the couch and picking up the remote.
“Yeah,” Jimin agreed, plopping next to Hoseok and followed closely by Taehyung. The three squeezed as close together as possible, half on-top of each other and giggling. “You never let us help cook.”
“That’s because you’re all terrible at it!” Seokjin shouted. Chopping could be heard as Seokjin picked up a knife and began dicing vegetables.
“Namjoon Hyung is terrible,” Taehyung corrected. “The rest of us are average.”
“Hey!” Namjoon protested, calling from where he remained in the kitchen doorway. His attention turned away from his boyfriend, now directing towards the pile of his friends on the couch.
“You’re terrible in the kitchen, Namjoonah,” a low voice injected as the laughter quieted. Everyone’s eyes snapped to Yoongi, appearing from the stairway that led to the basement. He quired an eyebrow at the trio on the couch, then at Namjoon, then at Jeonggeuk.
“Wae?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Hyung,” Namjoon said as he clapped the shorter man on the shoulder. “Glad you could join us. Jeonggeukie missed you.”
Jeonggeuk squeaks in protest, his cheeks flaring red as the men howl with laughter. Yoongi’s own cheeks flush pink, his eyes squinting in an amused smile as he saunters over to the freshman.
Yoongi wraps his arms softly around Jeonggeuk’s waist. The two sway from side to side for a moment as the giggles die down, transforming into fond coos and words of how adorable they are.
Jeonggeuk, still surprised whenever Yoongi initiates physical touch, stands with his arms fallen at his sides.
“Geukah,” Yoongi murmurs, taking one hand to raise Jeonggeuk’s arm and place it on his own waist. “Hold your Hyung.”
The group howls again. Jeonggeuk complies immediately, his face flaming. Yoongi still doesn’t seem pleased, pulling away and looking up at the younger with furrowed brows.
Jeonggeuk can’t look at him. His face is beet red, his breathing is shallow and he’s so embarrassed but also so fond. He thinks he loves Yoongi. It seems obvious, looking back on the months they’ve spent together, being something along the line of friends and something along the line of boyfriends. Jeonggeuk would do anything for him.
Now, avoiding his eye as Yoongi stares at him intently, the words I love you are just on the tip of his tongue. He holds himself back, refusing to utter the statement just yet. It’s not the right time, in front of his friends and under their spectacle. Yoongi deserves to have the privacy to react authentically and comfortably.
Yoongi’s right palm caresses Jeonggeuk’s cheek, turning his face forward. The room is silent now, everyone enraptured in the scene before them. Namjoon ushers Seokjin out of the kitchen to watch, half hidden behind the wall as they peer from the hallway.
Jeonggeuk’s eyes still won’t look at Yoongi. His head is now facing him but his eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, skin still red, his ears burning. He knows everyone is watching him, them. Yoongi is watching him.
What is he doing?
Yoongi leans forward, drawing Jeonggeuk’s head down in the process. His hands shifts from cupping the younger’s cheek to lightly tangling his fingertips in the long black strands at the base of his neck.
At the last second Jeonggeuk’s eyes flicker down, catching sight of Yoongi’s pink lips, slick with his favorite, sweetened gloss. The senior’s tongue flicks out, tracing his bottom lip lightly in anticipation. Jeongguek does the same, mirroring the action, and suddenly their lips are touching.
It’s soft. It’s so soft. It’s innocent, too. Their lips press lightly against each other, then slightly firmer, for just a few seconds. Jeonggeuk holds still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He wonders if this is real or if he is dreaming. He thinks he must be dreaming. There’s no way this is happening.
When they separate, a smack echoes through the room, silent as their friends watch with bated breath. Jeonggeuk is still frozen, his eyes opening into a narrow squint as Yoongi leans away. His grip remains firm on the younger, holding the pair in place in the seconds preceding the kiss.
“Why aren’t you kissing me?” he asks.
Jeonggeuk’s eyes fly open, wide in surprise and shock and confusion. “What?!” He howls, sputtering as he tries to talk but can’t seem to string coherent words together. “What do you mean?! I literally am!”
"No,” Yoongi argues, looking put-off. “I’m kissing you. I’m the one doing all the work right now. It’s not fair.”
The rest of the boys are desperately trying to keep it together. Jimin slaps a hand over his mouth, then slaps a hand over Taehyung’s who cover’s Hoseok’s mouth with his own large palm. Hoseok slaps both of his own hands over Taehyung’s, effectively locking the three into a tangle of arms and legs on the couch, watching the couple just a few feet away.
Seokjin is slapping Namjoon repeatedly, back and forth with his hand on his boyfriend’s bicep. Namjoon flinches, clutching his arm and whispering, “ow!” as he tries to get the older to stop.
Jeonggeuk is laughing, so endeared and so fond. He’s shocked, surprised, delighted, and excited all at once. His grin is wide, his teeth exposed, and his hands clutch tightly at Yoongi’s waist, holding him firmly as tough he were at risk of escaping.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Jeonggeuk asks. Yoongi rolls his eyes dramatically with a frown.
“Yes, of course I do,” his deep voice answers sharply. “I think that was established when I kissed you first, just now.”
“But do you want to kiss me?” Jeonggeuk asks, trying to hold the older’s eyes and confirm just once more.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi says, irritated. “I just said that I do. Just fucking throw me around, Jeonggeuk. Goddamn.”
Finally Jeonggeuk seems to get the message and he removes his hands from Yoongi’s waist to raise them up to his chubby cheeks. Jeonggeuk squeezes, leaning forward and bringing Yoongi’s lips back to his own.
Yoongi sighs happily.
Their lips fall into sync, Jeonggeuk leading the motion as he breathes Yoongi in. His shoulders hunch forward, caging the smaller man, and after a moment his left hand falls back to the senior’s waist to pull him even closer.
Yoongi follows, his movements awkward and inexperienced. He takes everything Jeonggeuk gives him, opening his mouth as Jeonggeuk’s tongue traces his bottom lip. Jeonggeuk thrusts his tongue into Yoongi’s mouth, tasting, tracing every surface and Yoongi lets him.
Their midsections are flush against one another. Jeonggeuk hold’s Yoongi securely, gasping as Yoongi’s hands find their way into his hair. Yoongi clutches the strands, pulling slightly, and Jeonggeuk’s mouth falls open to him this time. Yoongi’s tongue now invading his mouth, tasting and exploring for the first time.
Jeonggeuk wants to die. He thinks he has died. He thinks this must be heaven.
Yoongi tastes sweet and the fire inside him burns. He wants to push the man against the nearest surface, hold him down and ravish him. A vague voice whispers that they’re both doing this in front of their best friends, but at the moment he doesn’t care. He wants more.
Jeonggeuk takes one step forward, positioning his leg in between Yoongi’s and pulling him even closer. Yoongi’s grip pulls harder and a desperate groan escapes the younger’s mouth.
This seems to effectively break the spell. Suddenly, everyone is shouting. Taehyung has launched off of the cough, nearly falling down as he escapes his entanglement with Jimin and Hoseok. He grabs the two by the shoulders, jostling them enough that they pull apart.
“At least you have the decensy to look embarrassed,” Taehyung says, cheeks pink as he immediately throws himself away from the pair as far as possible.
“That was SO fucking hot,” Jimin hollers, clapping his hands. “I might have a boner.”
Jeonggeuk feels his ears heat up again, but he doesn’t let go of the senior. The two peek at each other, Jeonggeuk deeply embarrassed and Yoongi looking entirely too smug.
"What are you doing?” Jeonggeuk asks, gaze back on a random item on the other side of the room. Yoongi watches him, amused.
“I’m not sure,” he shrugs. “Feeling it out, I guess.”
“I think we should stop before I have to go jerk off in the bathroom,” Jeonggeuk grits out. Yoongi laughs.
“Is it bad that I want you to have to do that?” he asks. “I think it strokes my ego.”
Jeonggeuk bites down on his bottom lip hard, but smiling.
“Fuck off.”