Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Yoongi concluded with an overly enthusiastic smile. “Okay, this can’t be happening right now.” 

Mikyung smiled back at him twice as sweetly. 

Yoongi shifted in his chair, crossing his legs, and leaned forward. He searched for the playful gleam that usually was shimmering through Mikyung’s features. “I am clearly misunderstanding something, right?” Yoongi asked, the grin remaining on his face. 

Mikyung took a sip of her coffee. “I believe you’re intelligent enough to understand what I want from you, Yoongi-yah.”

Yoongi’s lips curled upwards, hurting his cheeks at this point. “Sorry, do you mind walking me through that again? Quickly?”

“No problem.” Mikyung clasped her hands in a lock and leaned forward to meet Yoongi in the middle of the table. “I have an aspiring actor under my wing, and I’m sure his future project will be his career’s big break. He knows all about it, and before he can bathe in rays of his fame, he wants to come out. He’s a great genuine kid who hates lying—”

“Why is he even acting?” Yoongi scoffed, lounging back in his seat. Rigor of Mikyung’s face, the resemblance of her conference room state, was making him sick.  

“ — who hates lying,” Mikyung pushed, “so he wants to be honest from the beginning with the audience. Even though same-sex marriage was recently legalized in our country — ‘Until that day when Mt. Baekdu is worn away and the East Sea's waters run dry, May God protect and preserve our country’ , blah, blah — I still feel uneasy about him going through this alone. He’s very… how do I say it? Gentle, maybe?” Mikyung pursed her lips, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of the words in Korean language when it came to describing that actor. “Anyway, I need someone to be there for him. Someone’s bigger picture to protect him.”

Yoongi let out a crooked smile. “Mine?”

“Yours,” Mikyung confirmed with a stern nod. Before Yoongi could even open his mouth and say how stupid and unreasonable everything had just sounded, Mikyung added, “It would be great promotion for you two. Your movie is coming out soon, right? I can guarantee you it will skyrocket in the box office once the country learns you’re dating a nation’s sweetheart.”

First thought Yoongi had when Mikyung mentioned the nation's sweetheart, was, somehow, of IU. Which didn’t make sense, because first of all, Lee Jieun was a great stand-alone actress who didn’t need any shack like Yoongi to protect her image, and second, Lee Jieun was a woman, and if she had a wish to come out as someone not specifically heterosexual, she would’ve needed someone with the sex opposite of Yoongi’s. 

Second time thinking had Yoongi recalling all of the actors Mikyung had under her jurisdiction who had been at least once referenced as a nation’s sweetheart in tabloids. Kim Dongsuk? Looked gay, but definitely straight. Choi Shiwon? Definitely gay, but wasn’t called the nation’s sweetheart, like, ever. 

Finally, it caught up to Yoongi. “Oh my god, you want me to date Jeon Jungkook? ”

Mikyung made a weird face. She scratched her nose. “Did I forget to mention his name before or something?”

“You just said he was an aspiring actor! You have, like, dozens of them in your team. It could be anyone. For that matter, I imagined it was Choi Shiwon.”

“Why?” Mikyung asked, and sounded genuinely curious. “Jeon Jungkook doesn’t seem homosexual enough for you?”

“I mean, not really? He looks straight as hell.”

Mikyung sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Yeah, he gets to act straight boys a lot. He looks very young, so he’s usually put as a second-lead in high school dramas. I’m trying to fetch interesting projects for him but they rarely come.” She clicked her tongue. “It’s a pity. He’s got talent. I don’t understand why no one sees it. I’ve been in the industry for some time, and I still wonder why everything depends on luck here more than actual work.”

“Well, he has the title of the nation’s sweetheart at least,” Yoongi shrugged. “He’s acknowledged by the crowd. It can’t be all that bad. What’s he doing now that you’re so sure it’ll be his take-off?”

“Oh!” Mikyung’s eyes gleamed. “It’s amazing. He’s amazing. Still not the main lead, but definitely someone more who just exists in the background and dates the most popular girl at school.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “So, confidential? Some big project?”

Mikyung smirked. “So, yeah.” 

“Should’ve just told me from the start…” Yoongi grumbled. “Now I’m curious.”

“If you agree, you can ask him yourself. I think he wouldn’t mind telling you.”

“I am so not fake dating Jeon Jungkook just to learn what role he’s playing. Thanks, I’ll just wait for it to come out for the big screen or something.”

Mikyung hummed, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Yoongi relaxed into his chair completely, and folded his arms. He looked out of the restaurant's window at the busy street, watched the cars moving, honking, snow falling and falling mercilessly… It had been a blessed winter. The sun reflecting on snow was blinding. 

There was one undeniable fact: Mikyung definitely knew all the chess moves of the industry. She’d been in this business for more than thirty years, and if she said that the Jeon Jungkook guy was about to have his take-off, the guy was about to have his take-off. If she said that it would help skyrocketing Yoongi’s movie, it would help skyrocketing Yoongi’s movie. Moreover, if she truly believed that it would be beneficial for both Jungkook and Yoongi, then it was most likely true.

Either way, Yoongi couldn’t decide at the spur of the moment about pulling off a con as big as this one. He’d been burned on this before, and it wasn’t a nice feeling. 

“Please, Yoongi-yah?” Mikyung asked, pulling Yoongi out of his mire. 

Yoongi stirred up, and shifted his attention back to Mikyung. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

Mikyung breathed out tiredly, like she hated the words required for this conversation. “I said please. Jungkook and I need you.” 

There was another undeniable fact: Yoongi owed Mikyung a lot. If not his whole life. Mikyung was his first manager. 

Actually, Mikyung was the first manager of many other people. Many other talented scavengers.

Yet, it wasn’t enough for Yoongi to agree. 

“I’ll forgive you your debt,” Mikyung said, finally.

Well. Then. 

“What does Jimin have to say about this?”

[Yoongi] [07:55 p.m.] completely forgot. pls tell noona i say hi

[mikyung noona] [08:02 p.m.] Ok. 

“I think this is a great idea, hyung!” Jimin exclaimed. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

“It could hurt, and you know it perfectly. We have no idea how the public is going to react.”

“Remind me, which one of us is an actor and which one has graduated from SNU with a media production degree?” Jimin asked. He spoke animatedly, with voice pitching high and falling down, hands rummaging through the air, and yet his eyes never left the road even once to glance at Yoongi — he was a very law-abiding driver in this way. His antics made it look like he was holding an argument with the drivers in front of him. “Oh, wait! I’m an SNU alumnus, and you’re an actor! My job is to predict public reactions, and your job is to motherfucking act. ”

“Exactly!” Yoongi pointed out. “My job is to act! On stage. ”

“ All the world’s a stage, ” Jimin said. As Yoongi blinked at him, he added, “Shakespeare. Great dude. Had some good thoughts.”

“I can’t believe you just said Shakespeare is a great dude,” Yoongi said. Jimin smiled sweetly at the traffic light and shrugged. “And I know that it’s Shakespeare,” Yoongi defended himself. “I know all of Shakespeare. I memorized each of his plays.”

“You’re such a weirdo, hyungnim,” Jimin said, and sounded both amazed and nonchalant at the same time. The light changed from red to green. The car moved. “Now I’m worried if Jungkook would even like to date you.”

So, they were back with Jeon Jungkook conversation. 

Yoongi loathed the way Jimin was always so smooth with his words. Distractions never worked on him, and he knew well how to narrate the direction of the conversations. It didn’t help that Jimin was younger than Yoongi, which had bugged him at first — a lot. Yoongi soon had learned that Jimin also had the wit and sense of responsibility that Yoongi lacked, and enough fire in him to handle Yoongi’s moodiness. 

It was one of the main reasons Yoongi hired him as his manager, and Yoongi suspected it was the reason why Mikyung considered Jimin a perfect match for Yoongi back in the day. 

“Jungkook doesn’t have to like me to fake date me,” Yoongi reminded. He had been hoping to sound stern about it, but instead the words came out pathetic and pitiful. 

“It still would be nice if the two of you hit it off at least,” Jimin said gently. “I made our lawyer flip through the contract terms. It’s just for a year and three months. You both will have enough time to promote the recent projects, receive new ones, maybe act in some, and even attend award ceremonies together. Mikyung-noona couldn’t have a more perfect timing than this one. She must’ve poured a lot of thought into it.” 

Yoongi hummed, but couldn’t think of a reply. What was there to say? ‘ She must’ve poured a lot of thought into the previous one, too, and look how everything ended’?

Jimin took a right turn, and they arrived at their destination. He put the car into the park, unbuckled the seatbelt, and turned to look at Yoongi. His head tilted, and his eyebrows knit together. He licked his lips. “I keep thinking what her setup might be.” 

Great. “There’s a trap,” Yoongi stated, smirking. Not in a confident way. More like he couldn’t believe that his life was actually turning out to be God’s cruel joke. 

“No. That's what bothers me. The terms are literally perfect.”

“Well, maybe it’s because Mikyung is a great producer. She’s been long enough in the industry. She trained you and basically raised me. You were her intern. She knows us both inside out. She knows what bugs you try to find in a contract.”

Jimin lounged back in his seat and exhaled tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with his palm. “That’s why I asked my friend from another company to look through the contract. Without names, obviously. Party A. Party B.”

“And?”

“She said it’s fucking perfect. I know I keep saying it, but there’s no other way to describe what is going on. It’s perfect.”

One of the other reasons why Yoongi hired Jimin was that he was thorough. In everything. If there was a job required of him, he would outdo it. He was always thinking ahead. 

“So?” Yoongi asked. 

“Hyung,” Jimin said. He sat up straight, and looked Yoongi in the eyes. “I really think we should agree. Jokes aside. We need it. Your recent film… I’m not sure it’s going to make it without a promo. Real promo, not this shit.” He pointed at the building in front of them where the movie interviews were supposed to take place. “This role was important to you. I get it. That’s why I let you do it. But I’m telling you, there are so few people who are actually going to watch it.” He shook his head, wistful, almost like he cared about this film. 

And maybe he did. Or maybe he didn’t. Sometimes Yoongi doubted Jimin had any interest in the movie industry except money it brought. 

Another reason Yoongi hired Jimin: he was dedicated. If not to the work field, but to you as his client. He was on your side, always. When the whole world was against you, he would stand next to you. 

“Let’s do it,” Jimin said. “I’m telling you it will work. You just need to appear with Jungkook here and there. Act up for social media a bit. You’re not required to fall in love with him. You just need to act for a year and some months. That’s all you have to do.”

“It sounds so fucked up,” Yoongi said earnestly. He unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed the car’s door open, letting the cold air get into the salon. Before he stepped out, he murmured, “I can’t believe I’m actually letting myself be persuaded into this.”

“You’re late.”

Jungkook’s lips made a thin line. He stared at Yoongi, for a beat too long, and said slowly, “I’m on time. Sunbaenim is early.”

“If you’re on time then you’re late.” Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Sit. Don’t stand like a fool.”

Jungkook huffed — oh, attitude? — and moved to comply with Yoongi’s words. He took off his black puffer coat, loosened the scarf around his neck, and folded everything carefully over the back of his chair. Yoongi wanted to tell him that there was a coat rack not so far away from their table, but Jungkook looked so determined to keep his belongings close to himself that Yoongi didn’t dare to interrupt him. 

He plopped down on the chair with the boyish grace only specific twenty-three year olds allowed themselves to have. Yoongi hadn’t moved like that even when he was Jungkook’s age. He’d been brisker than he was now, sure; but he’d always been deft and heavy in his motions, too. 

Jungkook was just — weightless. Or acted weightless, for that matter.

Yoongi studied him curiously. 

He’d never seen Jungkook close before. He knew his name, he knew who he was; it was pretty hard not to, taking in mind the size of their country. At this rate, Yoongi must have seen him on screen at least a couple of times, and yet now he couldn’t recall a particular name Jungkook had inhibited. He never outshined the main leads. The main characters might have been playing misfits and losers while Jungkook took a role of school’s prince, but neither Jungkook nor his parts particularly demanded the viewer’s attention. 

Now that Yoongi could actually see Jungkook, take him in, he thought that the title of nation’s sweetheart was fitting. 

Jungkook, in fact, looked sweet. Big eyes, soft lines of the mouth, curves of his cheeks that still remembered the baby fat on them… He had a boy-next-door charm, and there was no room left to wonder why he was given the roles the industry offered. 

There was, however, a room for Yoongi to ask: why the fuck did Mikyung decide he and Yoongi would be a good match? Was the public really going to buy the idea of a goody two-shoes Jeon Jungkook meeting a grump Min Yoongi and falling in love with him?

We are going to look so stupid next to each other, Yoongi suddenly worried. Like puzzle pieces you forcefully put together albein all their unfitted corners.

Yoongi was small eyes and sharp lines of the jaw; the bold strokes of eyebrows and uneven slope of the nose. He was usually suggested to play bachelors with either a dark past or unpromising future, or sometimes both. His characters were mostly nocturnal, as if they could only breathe when the night came over the city. 

“Has sunbaenim ordered already?” Jungkook asked, studying the menu. His eyes rose to meet with Yoongi’s for a second and then sank back down.

“Yes.” Yoongi shifted in his chair. “You can choose anything. I’ll pay.”

Usually, in situations like this, decent hoobaes replied with a polite, ‘ There’s no need! I’ll pay for myself!’ You knew perfectly well you weren’t paying that evening, but it was an etiquette required for this kind of situation.  

“Alright. Kinda expected that. Thank you for the food.” Jungkook bowed shortly, barely reaching forty-five degrees upmost. Yoongi felt his eyebrows rising involuntarily. As if to make it worse, Jungkook added, eyes still trained on the menu, skipping through the dish names, “I believe we should talk to each other informally. That’s what people in an equal relationship do, and I reckon we, apart from awareness, should also set for spreading a healthy approach to such relations.”

What the fuck? 

“ — Sorry?” Yoongi asked civilly. 

Jungkook quirked his eyebrow. Again this movement, so boyish, so full of reckless youth. “You heard me.”

Yoongi did. It was just —

He had tossed in his bed for several nights, worrying about Jungkook’s feelings, freaking out that the younger man was pushed into a relationship he didn’t need nor want, trying to get rid of the guilt and shame that rummaged through his body, the memories and regrets overcoming him, and here this — brat was, talking as though everything had been settled. 

“Does hyung mind if I order a steak?”

Yoongi startled. “I haven’t agreed to speak casually to each other yet.”

“You agreed when you signed the contract.” Jungkook tapped the menu shut and called for the waitress. He quickly made an order, smiled at the girl politely with his soft dark gaze and thanked her for her work. As the waitress was out of reach, his boy-next-door charm dropped. “We will have to speak to each other informally one way or another, and it’ll be easier if we start right away.”

Where did the great genuine kid of Mikyung go? Where was the promised gentleness of him?  

“You can just proceed with the list of pet names, why bother?” Yoongi said, startled, failing to get ahold of his surprise. 

“Oh, noona’s team hasn’t sent them to you yet?” Jungkook clicked his tongue, and lounged into his seat. Yoongi recognized Mikyung in his motions, the way he tugged the corner of his mouth to the point of a dimple appearing on his left cheek. “No, but really, Jungkook-ah is fine. No babies, darlings, or bunnies—” His nose scrunched in disgust at the last one. He fought a visible shudder. 

“Ouch,” Yoongi winced sympathetically. “Bad memories with bunny?”

“If one can say so,” Jungkook said. His eyes flickered to meet Yoongi’s and then again quickly dismissed to the table, like a ball bouncing off the wall. 

The fact that he wasn’t willing to meet Yoongi’s gaze stirred unpleasant feelings in him. “Listen,” Yoongi mediated, trying to sound calm , because he wasn’t a violent person and he wasn’t as annoying as this brat was, “you shouldn’t have signed the contract if my face irritates you so much. There are other people you could’ve pulled this stunt with. But you chose me. You either correspond with your own actions, or you don’t.”

Perhaps, Yoongi aimed with his words at the specific spot. Maybe he wanted Jungkook to deny that he chose Yoongi himself. Or maybe he wanted Jungkook to say that Yoongi’s face didn’t irritate him, and the reason why he wouldn’t meet his stare was that he was just shy and scared. 

Yoongi would’ve understood. Yoongi would’ve gotten it. He was even younger than Jungkook when his first fake relationship happened, and he’d been mortified and couldn’t even muster up his acting abilities for the first weeks of their well-planned by the management dates. 

“Should we also discuss PDA today, too?” Jungkook asked quietly, eyes everywhere but on Yoongi. 

Fine. “There’s nothing to discuss,” Yoongi breathed out tiredly. “I’m not touching you.”

“Why?”

“Nobody likes a couple's PDA. It’s not like we have to french kiss in the middle of the street.”

The kid nodded. “Fair.”

“Can I ask you a question, too, then?”

Jungkook gestured for him to proceed.

“I know in contract terms we have it specified, but I need you to be completely honest with me from the start,” Yoongi said. Jungkook’s eyebrows knit in concentration. “Are you single? There won’t be any surprises for me?”

“Yes. Yes. I am.” It sounded so much like Jungkook was saying I’m lonely . “Are you, too?”

“Yep.”

Yoongi tapped his fingers on the table. Jungkook played with the fork. The silence was suffocating. 

“To tell the truth, I just planned it to be our introduction date,” Yoongi spoke up. He felt Jungkook’s eyes flickering at him; it was impossible not to feel Jungkook looking at you. “Getting to know each other and stuff. Not, like, conference meeting mode. If that’s what you prefer, however, I’m fine with it.”

“Oh,” Jungkook said. 

Oh? What was that supposed to mean?

As Yoongi was about to push Jungkook for more, their plates arrived. Yoongi had ordered carbonara before Jungkook’s arrival, and Jungkook went ahead with the steak he had asked of Yoongi. 

Mikyung’s company chose a restaurant not so widely known. They asked Yoongi to choose a seat in the back of the room. He and Jungkook didn’t need to draw attention, not yet. They just needed to mud water a bit. Appear somewhere together. 

Screeches of a knife against a white plate, the careful slurping of noodles, live music in the background. The rest of a year and three months would be history. 

Yoongi knew the waitress knew who they were. He was aware of people dining in the restaurant and the curious glances they sent at him and Jungkook. 

Yoongi’s hand stilled in the middle of the table. He held the fork in Jungkook’s direction, his palm hovering under it not to spill anything. “Jungkook-ssi,” he called out quietly.

“Yes?” The man perked up, and his eyes fell on the fork full of pasta. “Oh.”

Again, the oh. Yoongi couldn’t figure out if it was a good or bad kind of oh.  “Do you want to?”

“I mean — sure?” 

Jungkook cautiously leaned in, opened his mouth slightly, and Yoongi pushed forward. Jungkook’s teeth clashed on the silver of the fork, it disappeared in his mouth, and the second later, he let go. His tongue ghosted over the corner of his mouth. 

Yoongi passed him the napkin, and returned to eating. “I really wish you were comfortable enough with me,” he said, and he meant it. “I don’t know if you’ve done it before or not, but I’ll assume by your actions that you haven’t.” He raised his eyes only to see the chewing Jungkook, gaze trained on the steak. “It’ll be easier to endure if we try to let it flow naturally between us. Instead of jumping right into the cold water, let’s walk into it slowly. Think you can do it, Jungkook-ah?”

 “Yep.”

“Great. Now feed me some of the steak since I’m paying for it anyway.”

“This was such a bad idea,” Yoongi said. “I have no clue why I signed the contract. Why? Why? Why? How did you lure me into this? God, I must’ve been out of my mind.”

“You’re just bringing him coffee, why are you freaking out?” Jimin’s calm voice filled the car through the dynamics. 

“I’m not freaking out about a damn coffee! I’m freaking out about the public stunt we’re actually pulling off!”

Jimin scoffed. “As if it’s your first time, my ass. Why sudden dignity?”

The light changed from red to green conveniently, and Yoongi was too distracted to give Jimin an answer. He actually knew one. 

Yes, he had dated other celebrities before in order to gain some attention to their figures. Those celebrities were usually his age and women. They and Yoongi were in a similar place in the industry fame-wise, and understood each other. It was fun — sneaking around with them, appearing on the red carpets, fooling with the crowd. Sometimes fooling around with each other. When it was too lonely. 

Why sudden dignity? 

“You should’ve seen his face. He’s so fucking young.” Yoongi said. “I think it’s illegal for me to date him.”

A pause. “...He’s twenty-three, hyung.”

“I’m twenty-seven!” Yoongi snapped, on the edge of hysteria. “Did you know that the human brain isn’t fully developed until we are twenty-four? His decisions clearly can’t be taken into account yet.”

“If it helps, he is turning twenty-four in eight months.”

“I’m turning twenty-eight in two! Doesn’t help!” Shit,” Yoongi hissed as he sped up, overtaking the car in front of him. “This dude is so slow. I wonder if some people actually know that you’re allowed to gain some speed on the highway.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jimin mused. “Let’s get over some facts why you might be freaking out right now.”

Yoongi wasn’t freaking out. (He totally was.)

Why sudden dignity?

Okay, yes, Yoongi had fake dated other celebrities. 

However, he never had to pretend to date uprising star boys who were about to come out of the closet. Yoongi’s image was to uphold the image of the other, to balance it out. His image was never to protect. It was just wrong. 

And now here he was, speeding through the highway, as he rushed to the filming set just to — 

“You ordered his go-to coffee, right? From the coffee shop his team sent me?”

“I’m not actually wooing him, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said, almost offended at Jimin’s accusation that he, Min Yoongi, twenty-seven, could be pursuing someone like Jeon Jungkook, twenty-three, with a brain not fully developed yet — clearly, Yoongi could go to jail for that. “I’m just bringing him a coffee to his set to start a gossip inside the industry. I don’t have time to look for his fucking favorite coffee shop.”

“If you weren’t wooing him, we’d send him a coffee truck. But you’re going there yourself. So?”

Yoongi resisted the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. “Fuck. Okay. Yes, I got him his favorite coffee. Next question?”

“You also have the QR code the team shared with us? So you’d be let on set?”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Jimin said. “Do you look, like, decent at least? Like you care what he’ll think of you?”

“I’m not in a dapper suit,” Yoongi said. “But I wore jeans and a button-up. Not like you can see it under the jacket, but the jacket is pretty nice, too.”

“Great. You have nothing to worry about. Bye, I’m hanging up now.”

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “Let’s not play a game of You hang up first—”

The line went silent, barely catching on the last of Jimin’s murmuring under his breath, “I’m not getting paid enough to be both a manager and a therapist.”

Yoongi sighed. The car filled with the song that had been initially interrupted by Jimin’s call. Behind the windshield, the first cracks of the filming warehouses appeared. Yoongi’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. He’d been growing sick of the never-ending white fields he was passing by, and wanted to step out of the car and touch some actual ground after an hour and a half of sitting in the same position. 

He took the final left turn, pulling into a security post and a closed gate. He lowered the window and flashed a smile at the officer. 

“Hello,” he said. 

The security guard stared at him, not impressed, silently demanding an identification. Whether he recognized Yoongi or not remained a secret. 

Yoongi smiled again, this time sweeter. “Please await for a second.” 

He shuffled blindly for his phone, opened the screenshot of the QR code Jimin had forwarded him, and demonstrated it to the security officer. The man squeezed his eyes, scanned the QR code with his phone, and nodded sternly. The gate opened.

“Have a nice day,” Yoongi murmured, taking off. 

There were about five big warehouses on the territory, all kinds of working vehicles and basecamps lost in-between them. Yoongi searched for the building 3A, almost got lost twice, but eventually succeeded at arriving at the parking lot in front of the giant paperboard box of a set. He was sure that if the wind blew a tiny bit stronger, the warehouse would fly away to Cansas to replace Dorothy. 

Yoongi tried calling. When he didn’t pick up after the third attempt, Yoongi sighed, what felt like for the nth time that day, grabbed the coffee, and stumbled out of the car to proceed to the front door of the pavilion. He wrapped the jacket tighter around himself as the chill slipped through his thin layers. He’d totally forgotten that it was much colder in the countryside than it was in the city. 

Near the backdoor, a frantic girl was juggling a clipboard, hundreds of papers, and atop of all that was her phone, going off.

“Hi?” Yoongi tried as he located her. He took a step closer. “Sorry, I’m — ”

The girl’s eyes darted up in a way that screamed ‘ What fucking now?’ eventually cutting off whatever words Yoongi had prepared for her.

They took turns blinking at one another. She was probably too startled to say something, and Yoongi could’ve sworn the emotion that escalated through his body was fear. This scrawny twenty-something in front of him looked like she could be crushed with the wrong flick of someone’s fingers and like she would chop your guts if you distracted her from her job or asked the wrong question. 

Yoongi would’ve bet his whole life she was in a junior position. A runner, maybe. An intern. Nobody was as passionate about the work as juniors were. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi croaked, finally, as he sobered up, “I’m — ”

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” the girl breathed out, her upper body dumping in a bow. She pulled on a professional smile.“How can I help you?”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered to the ID badge on her neck. He was right. An intern.

“Bae Ara-ssi,” he said, “finding Jeon Jungkook for me is inside your purview?”

“Oh!” She perked up. She reached out for her phone, her thumb endlessly hanging up on all of those who were in need of her. “Yep, I can totally do it.”

Yoongi noticed her shaking hands. “It’s okay. I’m not hurrying you. Take your time.”

“Thank you.” She seemed to find the needed contact, held her index finger excusing herself, and turned slightly away. “Hi, it’s Bae Ara. I’m interested in Jeon Jungkook, location? What? ”

“What?” Yoongi mouthed after her. “ What? ” 

“Oh god. He’s doing it himself?”

“Doing what ?!” Yoongi scream-whispered, parroting Ara, dunking after her as she waved him off and folded herself away from Yoongi’s nosyness.

Ara frowned, still addressing a person on the other line. “No, I’m not trying to hit on him. I’m not a weirdo! Not now, for fuck’s sake.” Ara sent an apologetic smile to Yoongi, and whispered fiercely, “I have Min Yoongi here, and he requested to see Jeon Jungkook. No, it’s not my fucking sex fantasy! He really is here! Tell me where Jeon Jungkook is. Uh-huh. Yep. Thanks. Yeah, hanging up now. Bye.” 

Ara turned back to face Yoongi. She looked — mortified. 

“I’ll pretend I haven’t heard anything,” Yoongi assured her. “So, where is he?”

“...He’s rehearsing his action scenes.” Ara pinched her nose, collected her papers into a more appropriate pile, and readjusted her clipboard. She looked Yoongi straight in the eyes, and gestured behind herself. “Do you mind me walking you to him? The pavilion is kind of a mess.”

“Sure. I would ask you to do it anyway.” 

Yoongi opened the door for Ara, letting her go in first. 

Inside, the warehouse was a familiar chaos of loud sounds and a buzz of a beehive. People were everywhere, each with a specific task. Some woman was covered in fake blood, resting in a lawn chair. A guy was fixing a scene prop, and the other helped him, handing the needed instruments. Abandoned cables laid on each step, apple boxes of all sizes scattered everywhere. The lights were dimmed, but it was hot and stuffy inside nevertheless. 

Ara maneuvered between people, used to each cable and each person being in her way. Yoongi followed her, accidentally stumbling into a prop or a sudden shadow stepping out of the darkness. 

“Sorry,” he would bow and dash to catch up to Ara. He wished she wouldn’t rush so much — so he’d have more time to observe the surroundings, let the sawdust of the filming warehouse settle in his lungs, and figure out what kind of drama would be Jungkook’s big break. That woman covered in blood had definitely stirred up his interest. You didn’t need blood for the usual slice of life high school drama.

And the action scenes?..

Or maybe — maybe Yoongi just needed more time for himself; for his heart to calm down from the excitement of being in-between the filming process, of being home. Shooting for Legacy had finished some months ago, and Yoongi had been restless ever since. He didn’t like not being busy. He didn’t like being himself. 

By the time he and Ara arrived at the area of the pavilion, Yoongi worried that he spilled half of the coffee he had initially brought for Jungkook. 

He worried about other things, too: would their second meeting with Jungkook go as badly as their first one? would Jungkook continue to act like a punk even with an actual audience near them or would he finally surrender to their secret pact?

Basically, Yoongi worried about every little thing that concerned Jungkook.

They stilled some feet away from the floor mat. Yoongi clutched a cup of coffee to his chest protectively, watching Jungkook do a backflip with the help of two other men. 

Only specific twenty-three year old boys would consider doing this kind of an action scene themselves; those who could be described with the adjectives of -less.  

Fearless. Reckless. Dauntless. 

Jungkook laughed heartily after he had successfully landed on the mat. 

“Jeon Jungkook-ssi?” Ara called out. Her tiny voice sounded so solid in the loud presence of Jungkook’s high-pitched laughter mingled with the deep chuckling of his instructors, or stuntmen, or — whoever, really, whoever, Yoongi could only look at Jungkook, at his head thrown back as genuine emotion escaped him weightlessly, just the way he moved. 

Ara took a step forward, calling out for the second time, louder. “Jeon Jungkook-ssi, you have a visitor.”

Jungkook’s head turned to look at Ara only to stumble upon Yoongi’s crooked shadow standing still beside the runner. 

Jungkook sat up straight. “H-hyung?”

Now that Yoongi saw him actually acting, he was impressed. The surprise on Jungkook’s face, little mimics of his eyebrows, agape mouth. He collected himself in the perfect seconds, so naturally; pushed himself off the floor mate and took steps closer to Yoongi in a way that Yoongi could only describe as timid. 

“What are you doing here, hyung?”

Alright, Yoongi’s turn. 

Camera shift on Yoongi in three, two, one — 

“Just passing by.” A small quirk of his mouth’s corner. “I brought you coffee.” He pushed the coffee cup into Jungkook’s hand, their fingers brushing, and withdrew. 

“Oh.” Jungkook looked down at the cup as if it was some sort of black magic, the way it materialized in his hand. 

There was again the oh; the oh Yoongi couldn’t figure out. 

They didn’t have a script, but Yoongi had always been excellent with his ad-libs, so easy to inhabit the skin of his characters. 

What would infatuated Min Yoongi say? What would he do? How would he stand?

“Bad ‘oh’, or…?” he would say. He would smile lazily at Jungkook, this time a bit wider, maybe a peak of his teeth would cross his mouth. He wouldn’t stand too confidently, because it is a new romance, a new spark — he’d fake this confidence, trying so hard to conceal shyness, gawkiness. A lie in a lie.

Jungkook towered near him, his big eyes peering into Yoongi. He was some good inches taller than Yoongi, leaner, steadier; all the smooth curves, almost like God’s warm hands took their time as they sculpted his figure with putty.

“Depends,” Jungkook breathed out.

Yoongi could feel the curious gazes of others on them. 

Oh no, was it Min Yoongi? Did Min Yoongi bring coffee to Jeon Jungkook on the set? Do they even know each other?

It was a familiar kind of attention. Yoongi had kissed people again and again as seventy people behind the camera watched him doing it. He had cried himself to oblivion and he had laughed himself to madness. He didn’t consider himself an exhibitionist, but sometimes it was intoxicating — to put on a show, knowing that people couldn’t look away from you. 

His eyes flickered to meet with Jungkook’s confused pupils. This time Jungkook held his stare.

Yoongi licked his lips. “Depends — on what?”

“On what brings you here.”

Min Yoongi’s infatuated mind would scream: you you you. “Let me steal you away from the stunts. Take you out for lunch,” Yoongi said. “When should you be back for filming?”

“Not sure. Ah, I think I’ve had my schedule somewhere — ” Jungkook searched around the area with his eyes.

Someone’s bony hand helpfully supplied the call sheet to him.

“We have a break till three p.m.,” Jungkook said after scanning the paper. 

He didn’t agree, but didn’t turn Yoongi down either. Yoongi guessed it was because Jungkook didn’t really have a choice — they didn’t have a screenplay, but they knew the rules and they abided by them. 

“Perfect. Lead the way.” 

Yoongi wanted to say goodbye to Bae Ara, and looked around himself only to realise that she had already left. 

If Jungkook noticed anything weird in his behaviour, he didn’t comment on it. Jungkook borrowed someone’s puffer jacket. Having escaped through the exit closer to the stunts area, they cornered the building in silence now that there was no one to act for.

A promise of a pop-up cafe in the distance appeared at the same time as someone’s muffled crying did. It came with a cigarette smoke, and both Jungkook and Yoongi, with no words exchanged except for the confused looks they’d given each other, went for the sound instead of the food.

“Bae Ara-ssi?” Yoongi blurted.

A bony hand with the cigarette froze mid-air. The weeping didn’t stop but it became quieter. Yoongi contemplated a pile of papers on the ground, a phone atop, going off and off and off, like the annoying alarms in the mornings. 

“Sorry,” Bae Ara whispered.

Yoongi frowned, taking a step closer. “Why are you apologizing? Did you do something wrong to apologize?”

“I mean, no, but — ”

“No buts,” Jungkook chimed in. He stood next to Yoongi. “Did someone —” He paused. Swallowed the gulp down his throat. “Did someone…offend you?”

He was so careful with his words. Real Jungkook.

Great genuine kid. Someone who couldn’t be described with the word as lacking as ‘ gentle’ was.

Ara sneezed, and Yoongi’s mouth opened to tell her ‘Bless you’ . He stalled in the middle of the sentence as he realised that it wasn’t a sneeze. It was a new portion of choked crying. 

Ara harshly wiped her face off the tears with her hand. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay. I don’t want a pity show. I don’t want to look like I do it for your attention.”

“Attention, my ass,” Yoongi snorted, because he wasn’t any gentle. Because he wasn’t Jungkook and he wasn’t familiar with kin. “If you wanted attention, you’d stand in the middle of the pavilion and cry your heart out for everyone passing by to soothe you. But you’re near the dumpsters, and you’re hiding. Jungkook and I found you by luck.”

Ara’s eyes widened at him. 

Jungkook cleared his throat. “So, um, just to be sure—no one…offended you, right? Ara-ssi?”

Ara nodded, her eyes falling shut tiredly. She leaned against the paperboard wall, and was so light that the wall didn’t even make a move to fall. Ara took a drag of her cigarette. “Just — Min Yoongi-ssi.”

“What about me?” Yoongi asked, surprised.

“You were so kind to me. And didn’t hurry me. And didn’t yell at me. And didn’t — offend me.” 

Jungkook blinked at her. “Have others offended you before?”

There was a silence that spoke, Yoongi’s stomach dropping, Jungkook’s eyes growing sad and angry. His eyebrows knit. He looked like he wanted to say something more, and Yoongi had to stop him with the subtle gesture of his hand.

Drop it, he glared at him. 

Jungkook pursed his lips; a displeased dimple on his cheek appeared; he nodded. 

Yoongi’s eyes held on him for a second too long, and then Yoongi turned away and squatted to grab the papers from the background. “Oh god, this is heavy,” he said, straightening up with an embarrassing pant escaping him. He worked out mostly doing lifts, and was surprised that even to him the pile felt like it was at least twice his usual weights. He eyed Ara, wondering how the girl of her structure could even carry that around and make it seem like it weighed nothing. “Let’s go,” Yoongi grumbled. “I’ll treat you two to lunch.”

“Yoongi-ssi, there’s really no need to — ” Ara tried interrupting him.

“Hyung’s right,” Jungkook cut in. He passed Ara her phone that lay on top of the pile. “We’ve been shooting for the whole morning. I doubt you’ve had time to eat.” Jungkook’s hand carefully collected exactly half of the papers from Yoongi’s hold. “Meal penalty, for your information — Oh, shi —” He choked on his words as the weight of the papers kicked in, and shoved his coffee cup into Ara’s hands. “Take my coffee too, I haven’t taken a single sip of it yet,” he blabbered as he readjusted his hold on the papers, this time grabbing the respective pile with his two hands. Jungkook eyed Ara from top to bottom respectfully.

Ara stared at them. “You two are the weirdest ahjussis I’ve come to know.”

“Ahjussi is a bit too much, don’t you think?” Yoongi said, having already taken off to the pop-up cafe.

It was a fun lunch. Even though his second (fake) date with Jungkook was interrupted, the weird situation they’d gotten themselves in was actually a great idea by the end. It spared Yoongi from holding a conversation with Jungkook one on one. All he had to do was to order two portions of bibimbap for him and Jungkook and a bowl of jajangmyeon for Ara, then sit back, just taking in the playful chat Jungkook and Ara had going on. They were closer in age, worked on one film, and it was obvious why they clicked instantly.

Yoongi didn’t mind it. He didn’t . 

It was just that — 

Jungkook had been preoccupied with his conversation with Ara to even start eating, so Yoongi mixed his bibimbap up and traded their plates with Jungkook silently, and then couldn’t shake off for the whole ride back the sad surprised glance Jungkook had sent him at Yoongi’s caring act. 

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Are we witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship ? Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook seem to appear around each other a lot these days… :) Maybe we’ll be watching them in one frame in the theatres soon?

[+4,344] [-122] NO because if Jungkook acts in a feature-length movie with an actor as big as Min Yoongi is I’LL BE ASCENDING 

“I can’t believe you’re taking me out to an UFC fight,” Jungkook said.

“Why? You’ve taken me out to a gym date.”

“Gym date was a great idea because gym is sexy. UFC fights are for straight dudes.”

Yoongi groaned. “God, must you refer to us as dudes?”

Gym date was, in fact, not sexy. Yoongi hadn’t exercised much except weightlifting ever since he had to prepare for his film about running, and he would prefer if it would stay that way. 

Apparently, when you were dating Jeon Jungkook it wasn’t an option. They both were always so busy with their schedules that it barely allowed them some actual alone time to meet and remind the crowd that they were existing in the same time and space. 

So they compromised.

Yoongi had visited Jungkook on his filming set another couple of times, treated him and Bae Ara to lunch again, scolded the girl for smoking and Jungkook for doing half of the stunts the professionals were supposed to do. 

( “Are you worried about me, hyungnim?” Jungkook had teased; a boyish grin on his face. 

“Yes,” Yoongi had said, because — he was. How could he not? Jungkook was a reckless youth, a wave of salty sea energy pounding into the land called life; and he never knew his limits. “Yes,” Yoongi had said, and added, “I’m worried you’re gonna break a bone and they’ll make me visit you in a hospital .” He fought a shiver, and Jungkook laughed, this unforced, beautiful sound of his, and for a moment, the world seemed brighter. )

Yoongi had hit the gym with Jungkook, enduring the unfaltering mocking he had received from the kid. Enduring the flashes of Jungkook he would’ve liked not to have in his head. 

Like sweaty, red and happy, overly energetic Jungkook. Like Jungkook puffing and scoffing and breathing breathing breathing in all the wrong ways as he lifted the weights. 

Jungkook could do this little to attend UFC fight night with Yoongi and not cause any discomfort for Yoongi.

It wasn’t even that Yoongi made him do it. He had told Jimin and Mikyung that he just wanted to enjoy his free evening, and Jungkook wasn’t needed. But Jimin insisted, saying that Mikyung had insisted, and Yoongi sighed and let Jungkook tag along. 

“Look,” Yoongi said as they moved deeper inside the arena, trying to find their seats, “you didn’t have to come. Please don’t ruin my night with your endless whining. Also, remember what I told you about PDA? I’m upgrading this shit right now. Hold my hand. Half of the internet thinks we are just good friends.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Duh. As I said, taking me out to a UFC fight is a very heterosexual thing to do.”

This whole conversation was starting to give Yoongi a headache. “Just hold my fucking hand,” he gritted through his teeth. 

This fucking prick only raised his eyebrows. “Needy?” 

His voice was so smug, full of shit, so unlike the Jungkook Yoongi had seen when they were acting together, that Yoongi felt like wiping this annoying grin off his face. 

“ Needy? I don’t need you,” Yoongi spit. “I literally don’t need you. I’m only doing this because Mikyung-noona asked me to.”

It was the moment he realised it was the truth. He couldn’t care less about his movie now that the shooting and the joy of it had ended. He cared about Jimin’s words, but not really considered them. 

Mikyung, however. The way she had said ‘ I’ll forgive you your debt’.

Yoongi hated feeling indebted to her. He had been driving his car to death between Seoul and Jungkook’s filming pavilion; got the membership in the gym Jungkook exercised at (Mikyung had the gym at her company renovated), solely because he needed this. He needed redemption. He needed this freedom. 

Jungkook stared at him. His mouth fell open, and when he tried to say something, no sound came out. 

“I think we heard each other,” Yoongi said. He grabbed Jungkook’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He didn’t mean to hurt; thought that he did it anyway, if there was anything to judge by the quick squeeze of Jungkook’s eyes. “Now please pull up your best smile and let’s go.”

An UFC fight had never been so heartbreaking to watch. Not entertaining at all.

“Okay, I don’t have much time, so let’s be quick. What did you say to the kid?” Mikyung asked as she marched into the conference room. She didn’t even attempt to sit down — that was how little time she had. 

Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “The fuck did I do wrong again?”

“I hate being serious, really, but it’s just fucked up. He doesn’t look like himself. What did you tell him?”

“Why should it be me who told him anything?”

Mikyung scoffed. “Because he’s obsessed with you?”

“Uh-huh,” Yoongi scoffed, exactly the same way as Mikyung had just done. “Yeah, he’s obsessed with annoying the shit out of me.” He tapped the pen he’d been gripping in his fingers on the table. “He just… I just… I don’t know. We were supposed to go out, and he was acting brattish to me, and I guess I scolded him for this.” He scratched his nape. “I agree that I went a bit overboard. Told him I was doing it only for you and stuff.”

“Oh my god.”

“I mean,” Yoongi defended himself, standing up when he noticed Mikyung gathering her things to leave, “you should’ve seen him talking! You don’t talk to your elders like that. I swear if I talked to you like that, you’d beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh my god.” Mikyung was already on her way out of the meeting room. She turned to glare at Yoongi. “Do you now know that bickering can be flirting too?”

“He wasn’t flirting with me. He was annoying me.”

“Oh my god,” Mikyung repeated for the third time. “I’ll go check on Jungkook. He must be weeping his eyes out.” She pointed her index finger at Yoongi. “Next time he flirts with you, can’t you just say something like, Repeat that for me? and pin him to the wall? Not, like, scold him like a child? He’s twenty-three, for god’s sake!”

Yoongi frowned.

“Noona, is it your secret bed fantasy or something?” he asked at her back disappearing off in the distance. He held his hands to his mouth. “Tell noona I say hi!”

@FilmUpdatesKorea: FIVE DAYS BEFORE THE LEGACY (2021) PREMIERE!!! WE ARE SO EXCITED!!

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Just in three days we are going to see Min Yoongi come back to the big screens! Our team is all settled on the Legacy (2021) premiere! What about you?!

@FilmUpdatesKorea: One day… Min Yoongi… and his co-stars Hwang Soohyun and Ahn Jihoon… The so-long awaited Legacy directed by Park PD-nim. It’s gonna be fire, we just know it!

@FilmUpdatesKorea: D-DAY! If you’re attending the premiere, don’t be shy and share your photo with us! Here’s our team’s outfit check :) 

“Is he always like that?” Jungkook asked quietly, leaning into Jimin’s side, as they both observed Yoongi pacing back and forth in the room. Yoongi supposed it was not meant for his ears, but Jungkook wasn’t exactly reticent about his words either. “Like — ”

“Like strained, panicked and stressed?” Jimin spared Yoongi another glance. “Yep.”

Yoongi paused his pacing for a second and scowled at him. “If you don’t have a heart, there’s no reason to brag about it.” He picked up on his pacing. The dressing room didn’t have much space — it only required four of Yoongi’s steps to be met with the desk, and if you marched in another direction, you’d be met with the wall full of different diplomas. 

Qualified makeup artist. First place in Seoul MakeUp artists competition. First place in Los Angeles Makeup Artists Awards.

Was Yoongi qualified enough for pulling this con he and Jungkook had going on?

He probably was. He’d been doing that for most part of his life. If a wall for his diplomas had existed, it might have overflowed with his first placings at various pretending competitions, too. 

He harshly turned on his heels to Jungkook. He was sprawling on the sofa, surfing on his phone for the past half an hour; and didn’t look stressed at all, as if it wasn’t him who was officially coming out from the closet today.

He just looked — sweet. Like he always did. 

“Please behave decently at the premiere,” Yoongi said.  

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Are you doubting my acting skills now?”

Yes. No. “Maybe?” 

Jungkook’s lips made an upset line. He rose to his feet from the sofa and stood in front of Yoongi, blocking his pacing path. Yoongi had no other choice but to stall, to let Jungkook tower over him, to feel Jungkook’s hand settling on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about us out there,” Jungkook said, looking straight at Yoongi. Straight past him, past all of his fears. 

He’d been growing used to meeting Yoongi’s stare. He’d gotten good at that. Something had been changing in him ever since the UFC night. 

“You couldn’t have a better trophy husband than me,” Jungkook assured him. 

Yoongi knew. Of course he knew. 

He had realised it when the makeup artist had finished Jungkook’s preparation and made Yoongi and Jungkook stand next to one another. She fixed Jungkook’s collar, tugged on Yoongi’s messy hair strand, and took a step back. Yoongi was met with the reflection of two men in their twenties in the mirror. 

They didn’t look stupid at all. They looked like puzzle pieces with the corners made to fit against each other. 

Both in dapper suits, one with short black hair, the other with a bit outgrown and dyed blond but perfect, perfect nevertheless. One was shorter but steadier and more grounding, while the other was taller and more weightless. 

Yoongi had this itch in him to reach out and hold Jungkook by his hand, tie him to Yoongi or he’d float away as helium balloons did. 

“ — I’ll go prepare the car,” Jimin’s voice filled the void, and Yoongi realised he had never given Jungkook an actual answer. “Depart in ten minutes.”

The door closed after Jimin softly. 

Jungkook was still looking at Yoongi. 

“You don’t have to do it,” Yoongi said, surprising even himself with this phrase. He rushed to finish it and explain himself before Jungkook’s mouth would curve into an even more upset uneven line. “You still can walk the fuck out of here. If you don’t want to do it, you don’t — ”

“What are you saying?” Jungkook frowned, voice like a cat’s hissing.

Yoongi exhaled tiredly. “I’m saying that… right now, we can still tell the public we are just good friends hanging out together. But after tonight, there’ll be no way out. We’ll have to proceed with the contract. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that… you don’t have to. You don’t owe coming out to anyone.”

Jungkook’s features softened, and he suddenly smiled at Yoongi, so bright and gentle that Yoongi wondered if he was mocking him. “There’s always a way out,” Jungkook said. “As long as we’re alive, there’s always a way out.” 

It made sense. But — “Still.”

“And still, I want to do it. I don’t owe my coming out to anyone but I still want to do it. I’m tired,” Jungkook said. 

“Of what?”

“Of living to people’s expectations. I’m tired.” 

He didn’t sound tired. He sounded exhausted. 

Yoongi knew this feeling. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. You’re an adult. It’s your decision.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook nodded, squeezing Yoongi’s shoulder for one more time. “Thank you, hyung. Thank you for doing this with me.”

Yoongi got out of Jungkook’s hold and went for the door. He’d never thanked his fake partners before. What was there to be thankful for? Each was just doing their job.

“Let’s go to the car, Jungkook-ah.”

The red carpet was blinding even before Yoongi had stepped out of the car. 

Each of the reporters knew that Min Yoongi’s car had arrived. None of the reporters expected for Jeon Jungkook to step out of it. They caught up quickly, connected the dots of all their previous appearances together in the public places; and Jungkook’s hand that he had reached out to Yoongi to help him out of the car was the last proof they needed. 

It was all Mikyung’s schemes, all her ideas. 

Yoongi allowed himself the last inhale of freedom before his hand fitted against Jungkook’s and Jungkook softly pulled him out of the backseat. 

The hurricane of emotion went over the venue. The noises of the usual buzz as if became louder, twice as overwhelming. 

Yoongi made himself move to the red carpet’s aisle when he felt Jungkook transforming into his stage persona. He felt it as Jungkook suddenly became shyer; as he ghosted his fingers over Yoongi’s palm, his fingernail timidly scratching Yoongi’s life line; as he almost almost almost laced their fingers together. 

Yoongi felt himself transforming, too, as the familiar energy flowed through his body, as he suddenly felt this strong thump of affection for Jungkook overcoming him and crushing him all at once; as he took Jungkook’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers, and just felt — warm and at peace. Warm and at peace. 

“Min Yoongi-ssi! Jeon Jungkook-ssi! Please look here!” 

“Min Yoongi-ssi! Is it your plus-one as a date or as a friend?”

“Jeon Jungkook-ssi! What is your reason for attending the Legacy premiere tonight?”

Some journalists were really outplaying themselves tonight with all the stupid questions they threw at Yoongi and Jungkook. 

As if the way Jungkook clinged to Yoongi’s blazer sleeve wasn’t explicit enough. As if the way Yoongi looked at him as the paparazzi blinded them with their cameras’ flashes wasn’t explicit enough, neither.  

“Min Yoongi-ssi! Jeon Jungkook-ssi! Can you please jump for the photo?”

Jungkook quirked his eyebrow at the ridiculous request and sent Yoongi a questionable look. Yoongi shrugged — there were all kinds of weirdos in that business. He lightly tugged on Jungkook’s hand, suggesting they would go further. Jungkook nodded and let himself be led away. 

They stumbled into some of Yoongi’s co-stars. Yoongi introduced Jungkook to them; they all smiled politely to each other, exchanging small talk — Yoongi had never grown particularly close with them. They took group photos. Yoongi didn’t fixate on the way his hand burned as it curled up against Jungkook’s waist, not at all.

“Have a lovely evening,” Yoongi and Jungkook murmured to the actors, and moved on.

They went inside the venue, both shaking from the adrenaline. The articles must’ve been published right this moment.  No turning back now.

When Yoongi looked over his shoulder, Jungkook was already looking his way. Catching each other’s eyes, they both smiled shortly, and as they continued to stare, their smirks grew wider, into actual, genuine grins. 

Out of the blue, Jungkook stepped into Yoongi’s private space, his hands clutching at the hem of Yoongi’s blazer coyly. He glanced somewhere behind Yoongi.

“Somebody’s filming us on their phone,” he explained. “Do you wanna make a show?” 

Yoongi’s lips curled upwards. “Bring it on.”

Jungkook smiled back at him, and placed his palm on Yoongi’s cheek. 

All air was punched out of Yoongi. He had forgotten the way men’s affection made him feel; the way his stomach would turn squeamish and small. He stopped breathing, couldn’t think of anything but — Jungkook, all around Yoongi.

Jungkook’s hand was big. Grounding. And so delicate as he slid his thumb over Yoongi’s eyebrow, smoothing out the bold stroke. 

Jungkook was so close Yoongi was afraid he’d try to kiss him.  He was afraid that he didn’t know who’d try to kiss who. If it was Jungkook who would lean in, or if it was going to be Yoongi who wouldn’t be able to resist himself. 

“I want popcorn,” Jungkook whined suddenly, completely ruining the mood built-up. A pout blossomed on his mouth. “And Pepsi. ”

Yoongi snorted. “There’s literally free champagne and all kinds of desserts. Are you sure you want popcorn?”

“Yes?” Jungkook knit his brows. “That’s the point of watching movies in theatres, no?”

“You’re actually going to watch it?”

Jungkook blinked confusedly. His hand slipped off Yoongi’s face. “You’re not?”

“I saw it some weeks ago when they finished polishing it.”

“Ah, okay.” Jungkook stepped back. Now that he wasn’t in Yoongi’s private bubble, it was easier to breathe and to think. And cold, it was cold, too. “It’s fine. I can just hang out with you while waiting for the movie credits. There should be some press conference after, right?”

Jungkook sounded so fake when saying that. For an actor, he was surprisingly easy to read — all the emotions on display, never hidden. Was it the reason Mikyung had called him genuine? Because he wore his heart on his sleeve? Because he worked so hard, no matter what was required of him; whether it was the action scene in his drama of a runaway revolutionist or the sappy play-pretend of the best trophy husband.

Yoongi could do that little in return.

“No, no. You go inside,” he told Jungkook. “There should be an extra seat next to mine, but if there aren’t any, you just take mine, okay?”

Jungkook’s lips made a thin line. “I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“You won’t,” Yoongi promised him. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll be back with you as soon as I find your popcorn and Pepsi.”

Jungkook made this face where it was obvious he wasn’t completely satisfied with Yoongi’s decision. Yoongi wasn’t sure why, because he literally had just complied with everything Jungkook had asked of him. 

“You won’t notice me gone,” Yoongi said and nudged Jungkook in the direction of the theatre. “Just a minute.”

“ —Okay.”

Yoongi trailed after Jungkook’s figure with his eyes. Once it disappeared into the theatre’s corridor, he sighed, rubbed at his temples to get rid of the swelling headache, and went to find a fucking popcorn. 

He wandered around the venue for an embarrassing ten minutes before giving  up on his pride completely and utterly and coming up to the one of the premiere’s managers. When he asked the woman about where he could buy popcorn, she looked at him kind of funny, like he had just asked something ridiculous, and Yoongi had to bit on his tongue not to blurt out things like, ‘ Oh no, I’m not the one who wants a popcorn at the fancy movie premiere. It’s my boyfriend. Significant others can be such weirdos sometimes, huh?’

The manager showed him the direction of the popcorn station. Behind the aisle, the bored guy was scrolling through his phone. When he noticed Yoongi coming up, he exhaled in exaggeratingly tired manner and mustered up his customer smile, and was incredibly terrible at it. 

“Sir?” the boy behind the aisle called out, ready to serve Yoongi. He sounded like he couldn’t wait for Yoongi to fuck off. “Which flavour do you want?”

The new problem occurred — Yoongi had no idea what flavour Jungkook liked. 

He spaced out to the menu hanging behind the desk. 

“Um.” Yoongi blinked.  “Let’s just… uh.” 

The guy’s eyes peered into him. He was visibly annoyed with Yoongi that he was taking up his precious time, and if the amount of pressure wouldn’t have Yoongi sweating, he’d be reporting the guy right away. 

“All of them, please,” Yoongi blurted out. 

“All three?” The popcorn guy quirked his eyebrow. “Ok.” He shrugged. “Which size?”

Realistically, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to consume three big bowls of popcorn, right? 

“Small,” Yoongi pushed out in a tiny voice. 

He hadn’t dated in a hot minute (read as in: five years), and he had totally forgotten how nerve-wrecking it was. 

“Pepsi, too,” Yoongi remembered to say. “Medium.”

 Yoongi could’ve sworn he saw the guy rolling his eyes. 

“Here you go, sir,” he said. “On the house.”

Everything was on the house on the premiere night. Why did this punk talk as if he was doing Yoongi a favour? He made Yoongi think that his brat Jungkook wasn’t so bad after all. 

He thanked the popcorn guy with a nod, grabbed the popcorn bags with Pepsi, and made his way to the movie theatre. He found Jungkook easily — he was occupying the seat with Yoongi’s name written on the back. There was an empty, unreserved seat on the left side of Yoongi’s, and Jungkook still chose to sit in his. 

Well, the message was clear. 

“It took you longer than you’ve promised,” Jungkook grumbled. “I was getting bored.” He skimmed Yoongi from top to bottom. “Okay, I know I asked for popcorn, but why did you bring three bowls of it?”

Yoongi smiled at him sweetly. “Just take it, hun.”

“Remember when I talked about the prohibited pet names? Feel free to add ‘hun’ to it.” 

“Sure.” Yoongi smiled at him twice as sweetly, tilting his head. “ Hun. ”

“Aw, asshole. ” Jungkook smiled back. He made grabby hands at Yoongi. “Now give me my food.”

“It’s barely food,” Yoongi argued and passed Jungkook a popcorn bag, the salt flavoured one. 

He felt attention clotting on them. Curious glances. Unabashed staring.

Yoongi’s blood boiled. “Do you wanna make a show?” he breathed out quickly against Jungkook’s earshell as he was passing Jungkook the second popcorn bag. He locked eyes with Jungkook; saw a small enthusiastic nod Jungkook gave him. 

Passing Jungkook the third popcorn bag, he yanked to plant a soft kiss against his forehead. And when Jungkook looked up at him, such a bright gleam to his wide-opened eyes, Yoongi felt like doing something twice as reckless — like kissing Jungkook on the lips.

“Here you go, love,” Yoongi muttered, aware of all the ears trained on them.  

Jungkook winked at him; not sexy or overly flirty, but just gentle, gentle, gentle, as everything else he did in this world. 

Yoongi recalled telling Jungkook that they should walk into the cold water slowly. They could’ve never pulled it, Yoongi realised it now. With Jungkook, it was like fame — cold bath and then being drowned into warm water only to be thrown back under the icy shower a second later. 

“You’re a very sweet couple,” the woman in her sixties told them. She was sitting in the row in front of Yoongi’s and Jungkook’s. 

Yoongi sent her a close-mouthed smile, and Jungkook murmured a Thank you, his gaze travelling down to the floor shyly.  

Yoongi sank into the free seat next to Jungkook’s. There was something buzzing and reeling about being able to act even in public; about Jungkook occupying the seat that had ‘Min Yoongi’ paper plastered in the back of it; about Jungkook reaching out to Yoongi, his fingers slithering against Yoongi’s skin, burning on Yoongi’s wrist, on Yoongi’s palm, on Yoongi’s knuckles. 

“I’m excited,” Jungkook whispered into his ear, leaning too close, private space forgotten once again. 

“I bet you are,” Yoongi whispered back. “Are you going to comment every second of the movie?”

Jungkook barked a laugh, the warm sound hitting Yoongi’s eardrums, tickling. “Maybe.”

“I brought you three popcorn bags. I think it should work to keep your mouth shut for two hours.”

“We’ll see.”

Jungkook relaxed into his seat, and squeezed Yoongi’s hand as if he couldn’t get enough, as if this flesh was too little and he wanted more. Yoongi heard him shuffling in one of the popcorn bags, chewing on it, taking the sip of Pepsi. 

The lights faded out. The buzz went over the movie theatre, everyone finally settling and getting ready to watch the film. 

Two hours and sixteen minutes later, Jungkook’s countless excited gasps and exasperated sighs later, Yoongi’s cringing at himself delivering the lines , the lights came back. 

The theatre gave the director a standing applause; endless ovation. Jungkook gave Yoongi a hug and doe eyes sparkling with something that was close to admiration. 

It was a great movie. It was an incredible film of hurt and pain and right people, wrong time. It was a picture of life captured how it was; drawn like  impressionists used to paint — wide quick strokes, counting seconds as life slipped through their fingers, a splash of fleeting color and then gone. 

It didn’t mean it was going to get the general audience’s attention. 

Until Yoongi. Until Jungkook. Until their appearance on the red carpet together. 

Until it was the film line-up where all of the cast alongside the director went up on a little podium in front of the movie screen, and the microphone was passed to Yoongi — 

“Ah,” Yoongi mumbled. “My ‘thank you’ goes, first of all, to the Director-nim. Second, all the staff who worked on this movie. And… Jungkookie, of course, who pulled me through the filming process. Can you show yourself, love? Oh, yep, here he is.”

Until Jungkook rose to his feet and waved shyly at everyone, covering his ears. Until Jungkook mouthed, Love you. And Yoongi mouthed, Love you back. 

BREAKING NEWS! The nation’s sweetheart Jeon Jungkook, and one of the most demanded actors in South Korea Min Yoongi are reportedly dating ?!

[+ 403] [- 3,422] I wonder who comes up with publicity stunts as ridiculous as this one. Jungkook kid looks straight as hell, and Yoongi, self-proclaimed bi king, usually only (fake) dates women lol nothing new

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Love is in the air :) Live tweeting: we’ve just witnessed our favourite actor Min Yoongi, the star of countless legendary movies such as Escape (2019), Skull Price (2018), and Behind the Light (2014), confessing his love to the new-found actor Jeon Jungkook at the Legacy (2021) premiere! 

[+10,043] [-324] JUNGKOOK (MY BABY) IS ACTUALLY A BABY OF SOMEONE ELSE (MIN YOONGI) NOW T___T Time to watch this lego something movie I guess?

“What does it even mean?” Jungkook frowned at his phone screen. “No, just listen to this. ‘The kid looks straight as hell’ .” He scoffed. “How one can look straight or gay, my ass!” 

Mikyung hummed around her wine glass, seemingly humoured by the situation. “Ask Yoongi. He said the same exact thing when I asked him to pull off this stunt.”

“Hyung?!” Jungkook exclaimed, more surprised than offended. He was still wearing makeup after the premiere, so his eyes seemed even bigger than usual as they peered into Yoongi, demanding an answer. 

Yoongi sent an annoyed look to Mikyung. 

Collectively deciding that they had made enough waves this evening, they didn’t attend the after-party, settling on the nice dinner outing instead. Mikyung had told them it was her treat. 

Yoongi would’ve never figured that his actual penance would be the woman muddying the water between him and Jungkook. 

“I didn’t say that —” he started.

“Liar,” Mikyung clicked her tongue.

“Okay, yes, but I meant that Jungkook just gets to play straight boys a lot! He looks straight because his image in the industry is…a heterosexual guy.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to, probably, let out some snarky comment or simply cuss at Yoongi. 

“Look at the brighter side,” Jimin mediated immediately as soon as he felt the atmosphere growing heavier, reaching out to squeeze Jungkook’s hand. “After tonight nobody thinks you’re a heterosexual guy,” he said cheerfully. 

Mikyung scoffed. “Of course! Not after this show.” She took another sip of her wine, chewed on the small piece of meat, and took out her phone that had been buzzing non-stop since their arrival. “Jeez, magazines and tabloids are already texting me,” she muttered.

Jimin leaned in closer to her side. His eyes ran over some of the messages.  “Should we make a statement? ‘Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi are meeting each other with good feelings’?”

Mikyung looked at him like Jimin had just said something completely ridiculous at its core. Yoongi frowned at their weird interaction. What was so wrong with releasing the statement?

“Jimin-ah, honey, I know you are an excellent manager and I’ve trained you well. What’s the main rule?” Mikyung asked. 

“Don’t overdo it,” Jimin said, what looked by reflex.  

“Exactly. Now think about it more carefully and tell me the answer yourself. Should we make a statement or not?”

Harsh. It was harsh. Yoongi would’ve died of embarrassment if he was the one Mikyung spoke to. He never liked the feeling of being scolded. He was glad his job was never Mikyung’s particular concern. She never had to train him how to act. 

Jimin pursed his lips, quieting down, and then said, “I’ll just think aloud.” 

Mikyung nodded in her approval, letting Jimin go on.  

“Generally, everybody now knows that Yoongi-hyung and Jungkook are dating. The most curious ones are going to look for the previous articles regarding them, and they’ll find out that Yoongi and Jungkook have been hanging out together for some months already publicly. Nobody knows how long it’s been actually .”

Yoongi and Jungkook exchanged confused looks. 

“Your verdict?” Mikyung nudged.

“The official statement is not needed,” Jimin concluded. “But someone, Yoongi or Jungkook, should still confirm it.”

“Who is a better suited one for that?”

A pause. “Jungkook.”

“Are you sure? This is your final answer?” 

Jimin didn’t seem to hesitate as he pushed, “Yes.” 

Before he could elaborate on his answer, Mikyung reclined in her seat and smiled. “Excellent. You’re right. I booked an interview for Jungkook in one magazine. Nothing more. I’m going to allow them to ask all kinds of questions, though.” She finished with her glass of wine, ghosted a napkin over her mouth, and smiled even wider. “The interview will be done in a week, but it’s going to be about two months before they’ll be able to publish a magazine. Maybe a bit faster, considering they’ll have something so valuable to share with the public. In these two months, we raise the stakes. Start using social media. Visit each other’s houses. Spend all the time together when we’re not busy.”

Yoongi wanted to throw up. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the whiskey he’d been sipping at for the evening or if it was the feeling of the déjà vu at Mikyung’s words that made him so nauseous. 

Jimin looked like he was completely in awe with Mikyung. He stared at her like she hung up the stars at night. 

It wasn’t surprising. Mikyung was Jimin’s idol, after all. Someone he looked up to. It was hard not to. 

Not to look up at Mikyung, that was. 

Even after all these years, Yoongi felt his insides screeching in a nasty feeling as he watched the conversation unraveling right in front of his eyes. He felt so angry. So helpless. 

He wanted it too, he wanted this kind of kin so badly. 

When Mikyung ruffled Jungkook’s hair, making him stand and leave with her, the tourniquet of ugly emotions in Yoongi’s stomach only grew tighter. 

“Have fun, boys,” Mikyung said as her last words. 

“Tell noona I say hi,” Yoongi said as his goodbye. 

“Bye, hyungs,” Jungkook murmured, and they were gone.

The silence fell over the table now that Jimin and Yoongi were the only ones left. Yoongi quietly finished his meal, even though he didn’t really feel like eating. Jimin chewed on his spaghetti. 

Yoongi fished his phone out his pocket and studied the articles and comments under them. He wished to understand the public, too. Why was it always reacting the way Jimin and Mikyung predicted it would react? 

“You know,” Yoongi said, drawing for Jimin’s attention. He refused to meet Jimin’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s kind of funny. When they say things like ‘the most demanded actor in South Korea’, or ‘our favourite actor’ about me. They’ve seen me playing the same role with different names on it for years. Now that I’ve tried something not so even remotely different, they are still only watching it because I held Jeon Jungkook’s hand.” 

There was no answer from Jimin. 

Yoongi hunched back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m so tired. Let’s go home.”

“Hyung,” Jimin croaked. 

Yoongi slipped his hands away from his face, blinking at Jimin. “Yes, Jimin-ah?”

“Let’s rest,” Jimin blurted. “Let’s just rest for a bit.”

“ —Sorry?”

“I know that you want to play in a movie with a happy ending,” Jimin said, and suddenly laughed, and it sounded so bitter, so unlike optimist Jimin that Yoongi had come to know in these three years. “I swear that each time I’m looking through the script sent to us, I’m always going to the last page to know if your character gets a happy ending or not. Somehow, they never do.”

“Jimin-ah — ”

“I’ll find you your happy ending,” Jimin promised, in a voice that didn’t allow objections. “I am going to do it. But I need you to believe in me, hyung.”

“I believe in you — ”

“So rest. Let’s not jump into another project. Focus on Jungkook. I’ll focus on the happy ending. I’ll hunt down the script for you.”

Yoongi laughed, unsure how to react better. They’d been wanting the happy ending for Yoongi for years. It didn’t work. Yoongi had learned to be in peace with it. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Jimin said, almost offended at Yoongi’s disbelief. “You just saw it. I’m competent.” 

Yoongi realised why Jimin had pretended to be clueless before. Why he made Mikyung lecture him. 

He wanted to show Yoongi he knew this industry inside out. He wanted Yoongi to know he would handle it professionally and with the head clear, not letting his personal feelings get into the way. 

Another reason Yoongi hired Jimin: they’d been co-workers before being best friends. 

BREAKING NEWS! Legacy (2021) is breaking all the records at the opening weekend !! CONGRATULATIONS!!

@FilmUpdatesKorea: NEW! How to introduce yourself to K-dramas of our fav’s fav OR, Jeon Jungkook, his impressive roles, and our ten reasons why Min Yoongi fell for the nation’s sweetheart (spoiler: it wasn’t his thighs!)

[+5,221] [-109] THE MOVIE IS ACTUALLY SO GOOD AND MIN YOONGI IS SO GOOD-LOOKING AND STUNNING THERE !!!!!! jungkook got taste!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! gonna binge-watch other movies of the guy ;____;

The flash of the cameras blinded him before he could even step out of the car. 

To tell the truth, Yoongi wasn’t that much of a vengeful person. This behaviour, however, was simply rude. He pushed past the trees these people were hiding in, and quickly stepped inside the condominium’s lobby. He was recognised by the security guard — so far he’d been visiting this place as if it was his own house. He nodded to the man in a silent acknowledgement, and made a beeline to elevators. 

He had texted Jungkook as the elevator’s doors slid shut, so when he was finally on the 23th floor, the door to the apartment was open.

“You shouldn’t leave it like that,” Yoongi grumbled as he multitasked: sliping out of his sneakers, closing the door and settling in the two bags he’d brought.

Jungkook came out somewhere from the kitchen’s direction. He leaned against the corner, and folded his arms as he watched Yoongi. “Who’s there to be afraid of? I’m the only apartment on this floor.” 

“Firstly, you’re not an apartment,” Yoongi said. He took the slippers, handed Jungkook one of the bags, grabbed the second one and paddled to the kitchen. “Secondly, what if it wasn’t me who came in? Some crazy paparazzi or something?”

“I’d just punch them,” Jungkook said peacefully. He put the bag on the bar aisle and demonstrated to Yoongi how he exactly would punch the said poor reporter. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Fine. Sorry, One-Punch Man.” 

Jungkook’s lips curled in a soft smile. He had made Yoongi watch anime with him somewhere in the beginning of their forced evenings together, and Yoongi didn’t really resist because he was sure he was just going to surf the phone instead of monitoring some bald guy throwing punches around. 

(Spoiler: he wasn’t surfing the phone). 

Jungkook stuck his nose inside one of the bags, rummaging inside. “Did you bring what I asked you to?” 

“What did you ask me to bring?” Yoongi asked dumbfoundedly as he washed his hands. 

“Hyung!” 

“Stop hyung-ing me.”

Jungkook scoffed and began unloading the bags. Inside, there were sweet potato starch noodles (because of course Jungkook didn’t even have staple products in his apartment), mushrooms, carrots, spinach, onions, scallions and —

“Oh, what is this?” 

Jungkook was holding the lunch bag. 

“Ah,” Yoongi said after sparing Jungkook a glance. He looked away, pretending hard to appear busy with finding the pans, bowls and knives. “Side dishes. My noona sent them with me.”

“What noona?” Jungkook frowned. “Hyung, you’re not having any affairs on the side, are you?”

“…No?” Yoongi said, confused. “I doubt anyone would consider me and this noona dating. She’s over fifty.” He cringed. “I mean, there are weird people who would, but—no. No.”

Jungkook seemed to relax. “Ah, that noona you always say hi to?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, a bit surprised that Jungkook remembered this detail. “I visited her on my way here. She told me to share it with my friends. Well,” Yoongi scratched his nape. “With you. She told me to share it with you.”

“Sweet. I'm your friend?” Jungkook smiled. Teasingly, and yet so soft. Boy-next-door charm, dammit. Jungkook batted his lashes. “Should we drop honorifics, Yoongi-yah?”

“Stop right now or tomorrow tabloids will be publishing your obituary,” Yoongi said. “Also, you won’t get that. ” He flashed a Snickers bar in his hand. 

“Oh, you brought it after all!” Jungkook exclaimed. A second later, he completely transformed from the excited kid into the most polite man Yoongi had ever encountered. He mockingly bowed to Yoongi, rubbing his hands together. “Sunbaenim, let bygones be bygones.”

“Please never say that again.” 

Yoongi tossed Jungkook the bar, totally not enjoying the way Jungkook’s face lit up at the little thing Yoongi had done for him. 

To tell the truth, they were friends. They were. It was kind of hard not to be, when every time you stepped outside you were required to hold a conversation (and hands). It was kind of inevitable when you were forced to spend free time together. And now that they had actually had it — they were spending a lot of their days together, not just evenings. Jungkook had finished filming the drama. Jimin had made Yoongi to rest, and dug into the work himself. 

Yoongi had promised himself it wouldn’t go anywhere beyond good acquaintances; but one evening found himself laughing hysterically at the inner joke Jungkook had let out, to the point where they both forgot how to breathe, stomachs hurting. 

That was the thing. Yoongi couldn’t do friendships without intimacy. He’d always been like this. Heart too open. Heart too big. Heart too trusting. 

Even now, as Jungkook munched on the snack while Yoongi was fleeting around the kitchen preparing stir-fried glass noodles; Yoongi couldn’t help himself but to make a talk.  

“How do you act?” he asked this time. 

Jungkook stilled with the Snickers half-way in his mouth. He’d been sitting at the bar aisle, trusting Yoongi on the cooking process; and now he blinking, and saying — “I just do.”

Yoongi halted. “You’ve never attended acting school?” 

“Nah.”

“Oh,” Yoongi said. He thought he had sounded a bit fake. He didn’t know if Jungkook had caught up on that or not. “Me too.”

“I know. You’ve said a couple of times in your interviews.” Jungkook finished the bar, wiped at his mouth with his thumb, licked at his lips. “How do you act, then?”

“I just do it, too.” 

Usually, when Yoongi was asked this question by another actor or actress, he’d just say ‘ Chekhov method’ or ‘ Stanislavski method’ , Russian surnames curling on his tongue; or even shrug, ‘ Well, kind of a mix of Chekhov and Stanislavski, you know?’. But never had he admitted that he didn’t know how to act at all.  

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how.

It just…flowed through him. Yoongi’s acting didn’t need thinking and didn’t need teachers. 

“You should set the table,” Yoongi murmured, distracting them from the conversation before. “What time does the drama air?”

“Eight p.m., I think?” Jungkook said as he moved to take the plates from the drawer.

Yoongi looked at the time on his phone, then scanned the cooking pots. “Okay, everything will be on time. Don’t forget about side dishes too.”

“Should we open a bottle of wine?” Jungkook suggested, almost shyly, almost just like the way he acted with Yoongi when they were in public. “I have some.”

Yoongi smiled. “You care that much about this drama?”

“Of course! Mikyung-noona says it’ll be my big break! I’m telling you, tomorrow I’ll wake up with a bigger amount of followers on Instagram than you have now.” Jungkook froze. “Speaking of Instagram.” He picked out the phone from his pants pocket. “Can I take a picture of you? We should post something, after all…”

Right. 

Yoongi ended up at Jungkook’s apartment tonight not because they were actual friends. It was because Yoongi was Jungkook’s fake boyfriend. It was because they acted for the media. Social media. For paparazzi and Instagram.

“Sure,” Yoongi said. He placed his hands on the counter, mustering up a smile at Jungkook’s phone camera. “Do I look boyfriend enough? Cooking you dinner when the first episode of your drama is airing?”

A pause. Jungkook suddenly looked lost.

“Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi called out. “Did I say something wrong — ”

“Ah?” Jungkook stirred up. “No. No. Of course not.” He grinned. “Hyung looks cute. Very boyfriend.”

A shutter click. 

“All done,” Jungkook announced proudly. 

“Great. Now please set the fucking table.”

Jungkook glared at Yoongi, and proceeded with the task. Yoongi finished cooking, turned off the stove, plated the dishes. He grabbed them, the bottle of wine and two glasses on his way to the living room. 

“I hope you’re not a lightweight,” Yoongi said. 

“ Me? ” Jungkook pointed at himself. He puffed his chest. “I can hold alcohol well.”

“Weird. You look like a total lightweight.” Jungkook leveled him with his stare. Yoongi flicked him on the forehead. “Whatever you want to insult me with, believe me when I tell you it is not worth it.” 

He opened the bottle, poured a bit into each glass. They clinked glasses, and life felt as if it was not a burden at all. 

“Thank you for the food,” Jungkook mumbled before digging into his plate. His chopsticks caught at the side dishes Yoongi’d brought with him. After munching on them, thoroughly inspecting the taste, Jungkook beamed. “It tastes just like mom’s food?”

Yoongi tousled his hair playfully, hating the way he had to calm his heart down when Jungkook smiled at him like that. Like they were friends. 

The show started. Jungkook seemed to watch it from the way a usual viewer would; and Yoongi — well, he just couldn’t stop analyzing everything that was going on in the drama. 

How did they build this place? Was it a greenscreen now or was it a real place? This CGI looks cheap. Oh, Jungkook appeared finally. He acts well. This role suits him. He looks different from the other times I’ve seen him on screen. Mikyung was right. As always. 

“Ah, the cliffhanger,” Jungkook whined when the first ad break rolled in. 

Yoongi raised his eyebrow. “Why do you act like you don’t know the whole plot?”

Jungkook waved him off, cheeks pink from the alcohol. “I’m showing you how you are supposed to react when watching the series! But you just munch on the food and peer into the screen.”

“Jungkook-ah, it’s called knowing when to keep your mouth shut. Maybe you should learn it.”

Jungkook’s dark pupils darted up to Yoongi’s, gleaming, shimmering. 

Yoongi sucked his breath in. 

He didn’t mean for his words to come out so — flirty. The alcohol had been catching up on him, too. Yoongi had only intended to mock Jungkook a bit, as he usually did. 

The ad break ended in perfect timing, and Jungkook didn’t have to reply to Yoongi’s words. 

He took a big gulp of the wine. Yoongi chose to focus on the noodles. 

Thirty minutes later, the dramatic credits appeared on the screen, indicating that the first episode was officially out and Jungkook would be having his big break that night.

“You act well,” Yoongi said — and added with a smirk, “Considering you don’t know how to act.”

“I collect emotions,” Jungkook said quietly, all red cheeks, eyes puffy, voice slurred, and Yoongi realised he was, in fact, a lightweight. Fuck. 

Mikyung was going to kill him once she learned Yoongi got her gentle aspiring actor drunk.

“Feelings. Situations. You know, when something bad happens, and you’re supposed to freak out, and you do freak out but you also… I don’t know. I just have this mantra in my head that keeps saying, Remember this feeling. ” 

Yoongi was supposed to answer, Oh? Me too. Even if it’s something good that’s happened, I’m always like in two dimensions. One is living through it, and the other is trying to grab as much emotions as it can.

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair. “My mom says I’m an emotion vampire. You know, there are energy vampires, and I am…” He took a deep breath, and murmured the most tired, sad words Yoongi had ever heard from a twenty-three year old famous young man, “and I am…apparently…by my mother’s words…an emotion vampire.”

Yoongi was supposed to say, You’re not. He put drunk Jungkook into his bed and washed the dishes left after the two of them instead.

BREAKING NEWS! ‘My Youth’ breaks Korean drama record on all streaming services !! CONGRATULATIONS !!

@FilmUpdatesKorea: WOAH! Have you watched our fav’s fav starring in the drama ‘My Youth’ ?!! Jeon Jungkook, you’re killing it!! We’ll make sure to watch the next episodes!!

[+7,332] [-1,332] JEON JUNGKOOK, YOU’RE IT BOY !!! If he has to date Min Yoongi to bring attention to him, I’m okay with it. Plus, they’re kinda cute together. 

“Please don’t destroy my apartment while I’m away,” Yoongi muttered, lacing his sneakers. 

“I would never,” Jungkook assured him in a tone that got Yoongi worried that he would burn his apartment down. 

“C’mon,” Jimin hurried Yoongi, car key flashing in his hand. “We have to go.”

Yoongi pointed at Jungkook with his index finger. “Lock the door. Don’t let strangers in. Read your scripts. If you get sleepy, nap on the couch.”

“Gotcha,” Jungkook nodded. He put up a Fighting! fist. “Good luck, hyungs!” 

Yoongi waved him off, Jimin grumbled something illegible, and off they went. 

Their rushed steps echoed in the empty underground parking. 

“The director is an alumnus from my university,” Jimin said as he unlocked the car. It beeped in the distance.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “God, okay, we get it, you went to SNU, I barely graduated high school. There’s no need to remind me about it every time we talk.”

Jimin sent him a look of a dog — sad and annoyed at the same time; and opened the driver’s door. Yoongi huffed, and slipped into the passenger’s seat. Jimin started the car and pulled out of the lot. 

It was about the time when rush hour died down that Jimin had called him and told him he had found someone who was willing to work with Yoongi. They were ready to arrange the meeting late in the evening. Yoongi didn’t mind — when he got a call from Jimin, his heart picked up the crazy unmatched rhythm of beats and couldn’t stop ever since. He was hesitant about leaving Jungkook alone (he had come over earlier, bringing all the scripts he was sent after the first episode of his drama aired on TV). Yoongi didn’t want Jungkook to feel abandoned. 

Jungkook talked sense into him and sent him off immediately. 

Maybe he just wanted to get rid of Yoongi. Maybe he wanted something else entirely. 

His eyes shined so brightly when Yoongi explained to him what Jimin’s call meant. He looked like he was ready to devour Yoongi, attack him with something as intimate as hugging — Yoongi had to keep their distance in check while they waited for Jimin to come pick Yoongi up. 

“I loved working together with this director when we were studying,” Jimin carried on. He was again talking to the road in front of him instead of paying Yoongi a glance. “He was a genius. You know, there are those pseudo-geniuses who make art house movies and call it cinema. This guy could tell a story about a woman in her thirties coming back from work to her family and make you cry and laugh and fall in love with life for fifteen minutes of his film.”

“Impressive,” Yoongi hummed, trying — and failing — at keeping his expectations low. 

“I’ve been wondering what he was up to,” Jimin said carefully. 

“And?”

Jimin’s lips made a thin line. “Not much. Not everyone is lucky.”

It sounded familiar. Mikyung had told Yoongi something similar once. How the film industry was relying on luck more than on hard work. Which was probably true; after all, Mikyung knew this business, built it herself. It was just — it felt like she was slapping him with reality. 

Yoongi wasn’t talented. Just lucky. 

If he’d been talented, then he would’ve been a scavenger like everybody else; then he would’ve been fighting for fame and recognition, and not had gotten his first nomination for his first role. 

“Elaborate,” Yoongi said. 

Jimin sighed. “I just want you to give him a chance, hyung. Focus on his talent. Don’t focus on anything else.”

“Okay,” Yoongi promised him. “I’ll focus on it.”

Little did he know that don’t focus on anything else was meant as in…the ancient building where the director’s office was supposed to be located?

“Are you sure this is…the place?” Yoongi asked carefully. 

“This is the address he’s sent me, yes,” Jimin said, slowly. The director must’ve warned him that they didn’t have a shiny modern office on the nth level of the recently built skyscraper; but that was even below having no expectations at all. 

Yoongi observed the two-store shack, contemplating. Even Jimin’s hand unconsciously lingered from unbuckling the seatbelt. 

The two of them both just sat in silence, staring in front of them. 

Then, Yoongi made a decision. He was going to give this director a chance, just as he had promised Jimin. If he had an actual story to tell and needed Yoongi, if there was a friendly team who was obsessed with this project and wanted to do it, if there was a possibility that at least one company would be willing to spend money on this movie, Yoongi would agree. 

He was desperate. He wanted to be kin and gentle. 

Those kinds of trinkety shacks were where those kinds of stories started, right?

So Yoongi pushed the door open, let spring night’s chill in, and climbed out of the car.

“What’s the name of the director?” he remembered to ask.

Jimin’s wide eyes peered into him, confused. Shocked. Proud. He blinked, and any kind of human’s emotion washed out from his face, leaving the face of the professional manager instead.

“Kim Taehyung. His name is Kim Taehyung. Second floor, on the left.”

“Alright.” Yoongi tapped three times on the car’s roof, and pushed himself off it. 

When he walked inside the building, nobody was there to greet him. No security. No Kim Taehyung. The lights were dimmed in the long corridor. Yoongi passed it, making it to the lonely staircase. On the second floor he took the left turn, and saw the yellow warm light fighting for life in the further corner. 

He knocked on the door the light was coming from.

“Come on in!”

Yoongi stepped inside. After wandering in the semi-darkness for some minutes, the yellow light of the office was blinding. He rubbed at his hurting eyes; and was presented to the two young men languishing around the room. One was sitting in front of the computer, biting on his lips as he stared at the screen, and the other was perched up by the desk next to the said computer, swinging his legs. 

Two ramen cups were abandoned by the windowsill, eaten in a hurry, like even food was an annoying distraction from the higher cause. 

“Hi?” Yoongi said.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” the swinging legs said. He reached out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. This is Kim Namjoon.”

“Brothers?” Yoongi asked, shaking hands with men. 

“No. Fate.”

Yoongi’s face halted in confusion. 

“Sunbae can think of us as mental brothers if it bothers him so much,” Kim Namjoon said kindly. He sighed, clicked something on the computer, and turned it off. “Welcome. Um, you can sit — ” His eyes scanned the room. 

There was only one chair. 

“Sorry,” Kim Namjoon sighed again, and stood. “You can take mine.”

“No-no-no,” Yoongi waved his hand in protest. “It’s fine, I’ll stand.”

“Okay.” And Kim Namjoon plumped back down on the chair. 

The three of them took turns blinking at each other. The corners of Kim Namjoon’s mouth were leaped up a bit, Yoongi smiled sweetly, and Taehyung was beaming. 

“Is it because it’s so late or there are just…the two of you?” Yoongi asked, hands behind his back, barely keeping himself from rolling on his feet.

“There are just the two of us,” Taehyung said kindly.

Okay. Well, that could be fixed. 

“Do you work for a company?” Yoongi asked again. 

“We are independent artists,” Taehyung filled him in, and sounded proud of it. 

Well, that could be fixed, too. 

“Um, so, you have a script for me to read, right?” Yoongi asked. 

“We don’t have a script,” Taehyung said.  

Blood stopped circulating in Yoongi. His hands fell idly against his sides.

“ —Sorry? Do you mind repeating that for me?”

“We. Don’t. Have. A. Script,” Taehyung repeated patiently, punctuating each word. 

“I’ll write it, though,” Kim Namjoon added, as if it was enough. As if the fact that he was writing the script made it great automatically. Yoongi wished to have an ego as big as these two had. 

Kim Taehyung cleared his throat. He and Kim Namjoon exchanged glares which Yoongi didn’t even want to know the meaning of. 

“Let me get it straight,” Yoongi said. He helplessly scanned the dying room, and felt the rage rising from somewhere within him. “You don’t have a team. You aren’t signed by any company. You don't even have a screenplay! You two are just — sitting here.”

“What do you mean, ‘you two’?” Taehyung smiled. “There are three of us already.”

Yoongi halted. “Pardon? I’m here merely by some accident.” He desperately wanted to turn back time and stay at his apartment with Jungkook. They would’ve had a lovely evening. They could’ve read some of Jungkook’s existing, written out scripts, and practiced the lines. 

“You would’ve left,” Taehyung argued. He jumped off the desk. “If you were completely opposed to the idea, you would’ve left in the first second. But you’re still here. You’re arguing with us.”

Oh, god. The punk could talk. 

“I’m leaving now, don’t worry,” Yoongi told him. “Let’s not waste each other’s time ever again.”

He exited the room with heavy steps faltering after him. 

Somewhere between the staircase of the second and the first floor, Taehyung’s voice reached him. “If you trust me,” Taehyung called out, “I’ll give you your happy ending! I promise I’ll give it to you!”

Jungkook stopped the treadmill he’d been running on as he’d listened to Yoongi’s story, and whirled around to look at him. “That’s it? You’ve just left?”

Yoongi frowned. “What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

“Um, listen to the movie’s concept, I don’t know?”

“But — ”

“God, you can be so clueless sometimes.” 

Jungkook got off the treadmill, and turned to glare at Yoongi, indicating that he wasn’t pleased with Yoongi’s social skills. 

He had a sleeveless shirt and shorts that day as his workout outfit, and Yoongi was completely at peace with that. He didn’t fixate on his tattoos (Yoongi asked him once how annoying having a full sleeve was as an actor, and Jungkook said that he was used to wearing a special tape to hide it on sets) nor on his muscles at all. 

“Also, can I have a reason why you’re not exercising?”

Yoongi pouted. He rose to his feet from the bench, trying — and failing — to get some equality in their positions and stand his ground. 

Jungkook quirked his eyebrow at Yoongi’s antics, demanding an answer.

Yoongi sighed. “Because I’m here to watch my hot boyfriend hitting the gym, not to do a workout myself.” He pressed his hands against Jungkook’s hips, and felt a black hole opening in his stomach as Jungkook relaxed into his touch. They’d been practicing casual touching lately, but Yoongi was still careful not to overstep his boundaries, and every time Jungkook’s body did this thing where it seemed like it was sighing in relief, like Yoongi’s touch was everything it had ever wanted, Yoongi couldn’t help but to reach out to touch Jungkook more and more. 

It was an addiction, to have Jeon Jungkook in your hands. To have his black eyes sink you in.

At this point, his Min Yoongi wasn’t infatuated anymore. He was pretty much a whipped, lovesick fool. 

“Do you wanna make a show, hyung?” Jungkook whispered between them. 

Yoongi’s chest tightened. He didn’t know if others were even watching them. He didn’t care. “Sure,” he said. 

Jungkook placed his hand on Yoongi’s cheek, his thumb smoothing out Yoongi’s eyebrow. His lips curled upwards, revealing the teeth; he gently nudged Yoongi’s hands to move up his body, to take a place on his waist. 

“Was hyung upset that he was treated like a normal human being back at Kim’s place?” Jungkook teased, threading his fingers through Yoongi’s hair. “They should’ve expected you, they should’ve treated you to dinner, they should’ve met you with a red carpet… but they treated you like you are an ordinary person.”

Yoongi licked his lips. Looked up at Jungkook. Couldn’t handle the damn affection his character felt for Jungkook, and looked away. “What do you want to say?”

“Not to say. I want to ask you to do one thing but I’m too scared you’ll refuse.”

A pause. Jungkook’s fingers in his hair. Jungkook’s waist in his hands. Jungkook’s eyes on him. 

“What is it?” Yoongi said.

“Come back. Listen to the story they want to tell. Then decide.” 

Yoongi murmured some sounds back.

Jungkook laughed, unabashedly, not holding anything back. “What was that?” He fixed Yoongi’s hair strand. “Okay, hyung? Can you do it for me?”

[noona] [09:12 a.m.] good morning! have a lovely day. are you meeting up with jungkookie today? please tell him i really loved him in the fifth episode, he was amazing! 

[Yoongi-yah] [09:13 a.m.] good morning noona !!!!!!! :) i’ll make sure to do it!!!!!

“You’re back,” Kim Taehyung mused. The shit-eating grin he wore was making Yoongi so sick that he had to fight an urge to make a U-turn and walk the fuck out of this room; it was suffocating him anyway. 

Yoongi made himself stay. “I’m old enough to understand that I need to hear the story first before turning down the offer.” 

“We bought you a chair,” Taehyung said proudly, as if he didn’t hear what Yoongi had just told him at all. He jumped off his designated seat on the desk and pushed the swivel chair out the back of the office. “Got it on sale,” he winked at Yoongi. 

Yoongi had this itch in him to remind Taehyung that he was a taken man. Didn’t he read the news? Yoongi was sure that if Jungkook was aware just of how flirty Taehyung was with Yoongi, he wouldn’t let Yoongi walk in so easily into this room. 

Or maybe he would, because he hadn’t gotten his lines blurred of reality and an act. 

“Come sit, hyung.” Taehyung patted the chair, beckoning Yoongi. “It’s going to be a long day.”

“I haven’t agreed to speak casually to each other,” Yoongi said. 

“You agreed when you came back.”

Note was taken. Never introduce Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook.

(God, Yoongi just couldn’t stop thinking about him today.)

He decided to take Taehyung’s advice. Carefully, he walked to the swivel chair. He spun it around, checking if it was safe enough to sit in. Taehyung kept watching him with the amused lights in his eyes, and Yoongi kept fighting the nausea.

Finally, he took the seat. He crossed his legs, tugged his knee closer to himself, and asked, “So, the story? A concept? An idea?”

Taehyung shook his head. “Don’t have one.”

“What do you mean? You don’t even have an idea for the story you want me to play in? Okay, I understand not having a script, I’ll accept it, you can always write one — ”

Taehyung pointed at Namjoon. “Look at him and tell me he doesn’t look like someone with a writer’s block.”

Yoongi’s mouth hung open. “Your screenwriter has a writer’s block?!” 

“Yah, I don’t have a block!” Namjoon protested in a whiny voice. He’d been unnervingly quiet from the moment Yoongi came into the office, mostly spacing out to the computer’s screen. Now he timidly shifted his gaze onto Yoongi. He looked like a child ready for the scolding. “I just lack…inspiration.” 

“Oh my god, this is crazy,” Yoongi muttered. “Why am I even here?”

“I wanted to ask you the same question, actually,” Namjoon perked up. He seemed more enthusiastic when they were avoiding the writing topic.  “Taehyung told me you would come back, but I wasn’t so sure.”

Yoongi wasn’t so sure he’d come back, too. When he had asked Jimin to drive him here again, Jimin had to ask him to repeat, because he wasn’t so sure he heard Yoongi correctly, either. 

Yoongi burrowed his face in his hands. “I’m back because my boyfriend told me to. It was kind of a rhetorical question.”

“You have a boyfriend?!” Namjoon and Taehyung exclaimed at the same time, same voice. 

Yoongi tore his hands away from his face to frown at their antics. His look expressed a deep concern. “Guys, how long have you been sitting in this shithole? Jungkook and I are, like, the hottest article right now.”

“You’re dating Jeon Jungkook ?!” Taehyung’s eyes popped out. “What the fuck? How did you get this man? Isn’t he straight as hell?”

He’s not. He just gets to act straight boys a lot.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi said, tired of this circus. “I’ll ask him next time we have sex.” 

“Make sure you do. You always need to be on the same page with your partners,” Taehyung hummed, and moved back to his seat on the desk. He swung his legs back and forth as he talked. “Back to the story. We don’t have one. Namjoon has a writer’s block, and I kind of suck in everything that doesn’t concern blocking the scenes. But I’ve been trying to help hyung out. I’m always here for him to rant. Brainstorm. I read and praise his writings. And still, I can’t seem to help him.”

“Because I don’t have a writer’s block,” Namjoon grumbled.

“Then why haven’t you finished any of the screenplays you’ve started after college?” Taehyung snapped, and it was like a flash of sanity and actual care in him.

Yoongi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t know where to put himself. He was an intruder to this conversation. He was not supposed to hear these words. They weren’t for his ears. It wasn’t his business. 

Taehyung threw his hands up. “You used to write a script in two days! You are always full of ideas! We could’ve been the first Korean act to get an Oscar, but nooo, because you have a writer’s block we lost to a fucking Parasite! ”

“Yah, I loved Parasite,” Yoongi chimed in.

“Shut it,” Taehyung said. “Family talk.”

Yoongi made a move to zip his mouth. 

Namjoon sighed. “Taehyung-ah… I’m sorry. I really am. I’m trying. It doesn’t work out. I don’t feel like…finishing the stories.”

Taehyung nodded, folding his arms, folding into himself; shutting the rest of the world out. He stared out the window, and Yoongi unconsciously followed his gaze. There was nothing to look at: just apartment buildings, just bare trees, just yellow grass from the harsh winter. It was the time for spring to come and breathe new life in.

“Sunbae,” Namjoon called out quietly.

Yoongi turned to look at him. “Yes, Kim Namjoon-ssi?”

“Please don’t give up on us.”

Yoongi tilted his head. He studied Kim Namjoon, taking in his whole appearance for the first time. The man was probably a bit younger than Yoongi. The dreamer type. He didn’t seem to like to talk much. It must’ve been coming from the profession — so far Yoongi had come to know that writers usually hated speaking, and only respected the words written out on paper.

“Can I say something harsh?” Yoongi asked. 

“Okay,” Namjoon agreed, and looked like he was getting ready to not just get a scolding, but to get slapped.

“There’s nothing to give up on, to be honest. You can’t offer me anything. Only empty promises.”

Namjoon nodded. He understood. “I can offer you my unfinished screenplays. I have tons of them.”

“I don’t have time to read tons of unfinished screenplays,” Yoongi cut him off. Even if it was a lie. He did have time. Ever since the Legacy premiere, he had been doing nothing but existing. “How long has it been since you’ve graduated college?” 

“Five years.”

“You see the problem here, Kim Namjoon-ssi?” 

Namjoon nodded again, his eyes dropping to the floor. Yoongi stood from the swivel chair Taehyung had bought for him and walked to the door, the feeling of déjà vu tight around his heart. 

There was a voice in his head that kept telling him he was missing something out. This voice had Jungkook’s soft syllables to it. 

Yoongi gripped the handle. He heard the shuffling behind his back, low murmuring, quarreling again. 

He whirled around. 

Namjoon and Taehyung froze in their fight, eyes wide on Yoongi, as if caught in a crime and not in a civil family dealing with the things. 

“You have my number, right?” Yoongi said, looking at Namjoon. “Send me seven of your scripts. Two scripts you’re personally proud of. Two scripts Taehyung-ssi likes the most. One script that you think is your best one. And two scripts you think I’ll be suited for. I’ll read them. Then we’ll talk.”

JEON JUNGKOOK INTERVIEW FOR ***

Q. What is Min Yoongi to you?

Jungkook: Hm… First love? (smiles, tilting his head. I see stars in his eyes. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m not.) 

If I was to describe him, he’d definitely be first love. I’m not complaining. He’s a great first love material. I’ve liked boys before. I like to believe some of them have liked me back. But I’ve never loved. Not like that.

Q. Do you like to believe he loves you back?

Jungkook: Of course I like to believe it. (laughs) Sometimes I believe it so much that I convince myself it’s true. 

“How does coming out feel?” Yoongi asked.

“Liberating?” Jungkook said, more question than actual answer in the way he spoke. He smiled; pretty and sweet. He’d been growing his hair out — Yoongi suspected there was some specific character Jungkook was after. Soft locks highlighted his features, blended his curves out. Yoongi couldn’t stop looking at him that evening. “It’s kind of weird, too. When I had this interview two months ago, I was still hyped and buzzed from the Legacy premiere. The way people talked about us. About me. I counted days till this interview, and when we finally did it, it already felt liberating, you know?”

Yoongi hummed. He knew. Kind of. 

“I said it and forgot about it. Life’s hectic. I still had the drama to finish. Now I have new projects coming in. But yeah, all in all… It feels great. Not having to pretend anymore.”

Yoongi didn’t have the heart to tell him that they were still on with pretending. That they would never stop pretending. 

He clinked their glasses with Jungkook, and they both exchanged quiet smiles as the soju burned down their throats. It tasted bitter because life was so sweet. Not always, not even for long; but for this evening — for sure. 

Jungkook had told him earlier that he’d gone to audition for a main lead in the drama this morning, and that he got the role. That the director loved him. Yoongi had responded with, We need to celebrate it. Jungkook didn’t refuse. 

Yoongi’s gaze travelled from Jungkook to the cafe’s room they were in. He trailed the interior with his eyes, people perched up on the uncomfortable plastic chairs, the cheap equipment of the grilling. Everything smelled of night’s charms. 

“Don’t drink too much,” Yoongi said, filling another shot for them. “You have a shooting early in the morning. You can’t hold alcohol well.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Alright, Mr. Boring. Have you ever heard of fun ?”

“You’ll be the one complaining about headache and swollen face when you wake up, not me. If I was actually boring, I’d tell you not to eat so much meat either, but as you see, I’m keeping some things to myself.”

“...You’ve literally just told me.”

Yoongi reached out to flick Jungkook’s forehead. Jungkook’s reflexes were faster. He gripped onto Yoongi’s wrist, and they both just stared at each other for a hot second — before Yoongi took a U-turn on his antics, and tucked Jungkook’s outgrown hair behind his ear, so delicately that he didn’t even know where it came from in him. 

Jungkook’s ‘gentle’ started rubbing off? 

“So. Um. Yeah.”

They both chose to believe the red on their cheeks came from alcohol. 

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Have you read the whole interview?” 

“I have,” Yoongi said, suddenly taking his interest in dissecting a rice grain with his chopsticks.

“What did you think?”

Yoongi wondered what Jungkook wanted to hear from him. What he wanted Yoongi to do when he looked at Yoongi like that; peering into him with his black eyes, pupils wide, a bit hazy already. 

It was sad. Everything you’ve said was so sad.

I think I understand. I think I’m the same. 

“The thing you’ve said about the hexagon,” Yoongi spoke up, and saw Jungkook’s eyes widen, nostrils flaring, like he had expected anything but this. Yoongi tilted his head. “Why do you consider yourself broken?”

Jungkook suddenly mirrored his action, catching Yoongi’s gaze. His hair fell aside, brushed his nose. He asked softly, “Don’t we all?”

“What?” 

“Consider ourselves broken. Like there’s something wrong with us.”

A pit instead of a stomach in Yoongi’s body. So many unsaid things on the tip of his tongue. So many things hidden in his heart; things and thoughts he would’ve liked to keep to himself.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said nevertheless, and watched Jungkook’s eyes light up in surprise, mouth falling open. He laughed. “Why? You didn’t expect me to agree so easily with you?”

“I guess,” Jungkook said. “Can I know what’s wrong with you, then? Since you already know my crack.” 

Yoongi should’ve made a longer pause before he admitted, “I think I love too much.”

Jungkook’s voice should not have been so gentle and understanding when he asked, “Like, people?”

“No, like — everything. But yeah, people, too. I believe it burdens them.”

Jungkook frowned — in confusion; in curiosity; in wanting to know more; as if he couldn’t help himself but to dig up all the skeletons hidden in Yoongi’s closet. “Your love?” he clarified. 

“My love,” Yoongi nodded. “I think I love too much and too deeply. It’s not very good for your health, loving so much. I try loving acting less, but I’m not very successful at that.”

Jungkook’s finger absentmindedly traced the soju glass. He soaked in the words Yoongi had entrusted to him, and then said quietly, “I don’t think that’s a crack of your hexagon. I think that’s bravery. It’s a sign of a big heart, to be able to carry so much of love.”

Yoongi reached out to fix the hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “Thank you, Jungkook-ah.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi pursed his lips not to let out a smile too wide. “You sound a bit drunk. It’s a wrap for you, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose. “Do you think it’s Pavlovian — to be happy at your last phrase?”

It’s a wrap , directors said to signal the always so anticipated, longed for, end of filming. Of course it was a Pavlovian response. Yoongi had intended it to happen; otherwise he didn’t know how he’d convince Jungkook to go home that night. 

They downed another shot of soju before calling it a day. Jungkook asked if he could stay the night at Yoongi’s, explaining that his place was closer to the shooting location. Yoongi didn’t refuse. 

The cafe wasn’t so far away from Yoongi’s apartment building. They walked back in silence. It was a warm night; a night of blendering spring and summer, soon to become one. 

Jungkook had a hard time walking in a straight line, and Yoongi always had to tug on his wrist to keep him in one place.

“Just hold my hand,” Jungkook said. “You’re annoying me with your movements.”

Yoongi laughed and held his hand. The street was empty, as if humankind had vanished and Jungkook and Yoongi were the only ones left to exist.

Who were they making a show for?

The stars? The moon? Themselves?

Yoongi hoped that the walk would help Jungkook sober up. However, once he unlocked the door to the apartment and Jungkook fled inside, giggling about everything and nothing in particular, he was worried that fresh air only made it worse.

Jungkook collapsed on the sofa. “Oh my god, everything’s spinning.”

“Told you that you shouldn’t drink so much,” Yoongi tutted. “Don’t lie on your back.”

“It’s okay, I don’t feel like throwing up,” Jungkook muttered, obediently complying as he shifted to his side. He had folded into himself, and suddenly looked small and not even boyish, but more like a little lost kid. He stared at the coffee table, and then reached out with his index finger to ghost it over the pile of papers.“Are those the scripts? They look like the scripts but they’re too thin. There must be like, ten scenes max per the script.”

“I don’t know how many scenes there are. I haven’t read any of them yet.” Yoongi passed Jungkook the blanket he had extracted from the drawer under the TV set. 

“Why? Are those the scripts Kim Namjoon gave you?”

“Yeah. I asked Jimin to print them for me, and then I kind of…forgot about them.”

Jungkook wrapped himself into the blanket. Yawned. Patted the free space on the sofa with his foot. “Sit down. Read one for me.”

“You’re barely keeping your eyes open,” Yoongi deadpanned. 

“Please.”

Yoongi breathed out tiredly. “Only one.”

[min yoongi] [03:32 a.m.] holy shit you’re like

[min yoongi] [03:35 a.m.] kim namjoon WHO are you

[min yoongi] [03:38 a.m.] i couldn’t stop reading any of your scripts. you’re amazing. i’m so sorry i doubted your skill. 

[min yoongi] [03:45 a.m.] i’m literally shaking. i loved each one of your screenplays. wtf why do you lack inspiration? can you only write when you’re laying in white sand and sipping on an expensive cocktail? i’ll arrange it. tell me and i’ll do it. the best resort. the clearest ocean. whatever you want. tell me a place.

[kim namjoon] [04:12 a.m.] haha hyung you’re overdoing it! but thank you. i meant it when i said i didn’t have a writer’s block. i don’t. it’s about taehyung. 

[kim namjoon] [04:13 a.m.] when i write, i get into headspace where i can’t think of anything but the story. when i am awake, i write. when i am asleep, i dream of the story. i need to live through it, you know? if i don’t write it out in one sitting, the inspiration flees and so does the script. 

[kim namjoon] [04:14 a.m.] god, i’m sorry for such a long introduction to my problem. so, the thing is…someone has to look after taehyung while i’m away. when we were in college, his roommate checked on him, but once i’ve graduated and completed military service, taehyung and i have always been together. as much as i love him, it’s impossible for me to write with a constant distraction. 

[min yoongi] [04:16 a.m.] ok, i got it. so, if you were to come up with the script’s idea, how many days would you need to finish it? 

[kim namjoon] [07:02 a.m.] sorry, fell asleep. 

[kim namjoon] [07:02 a.m.] i’m always running on the ideas so it won’t be hard to come up with one. i’m concerned about the writing process, though. i’m not sure, but i need at least a week. i haven’t written in a long time and i’m afraid it’ll take me awhile to get it done. 

[min yoongi] [07:03 a.m.] you stupid genius, most writers take months and years to work on a script, and you’re taking a WEEK for it. oh my god. consider it done. 

[kim namjoon] [07:17 a.m.] i’m gonna give you your happy ending, hyung. i promise.