Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Taehyung tugged at Yoongi’s badge hanging around his neck. He brought it closer to his face to inspect it carefully, compared his own badge to Yoongi’s, and then his eyes flicked to Yoongi’s.  “Can I ask you why you have the same identification as me? ‘Visitor?’”

“This? It’s because I’m not signed under the company.” Yoongi shrugged, yanking the badge out of Taehyung’s hold. “Let’s go.” He picked up the pace immediately after, and Taehyung had to stagger and trail after him. 

“What?” Taehyung asked, surprised, because of course he hadn’t heard any of the news concerning the last five years. 

Yoongi really didn’t want to dive into his memories today. They brought up the shame and youthful chivalry Yoongi’d had back then; all the hopes that got ruined. 

He had thought that if he gave it more time, it’d work out. He had thought that once he returned, everything would be back to normal. But it’d been five years, and — “I've been an independent actor for five years already. Jimin manages me.”

“Oh, right,” Taehyung said, and Yoongi thought he recalled Jimin. But then Taehyung added, “You’ve dated that girl, right? She was from the same company. And then you two broke up, and you terminated the contract and sulked your way into the military.”

Yoongi stopped. 

Taehyung bumped into his shoulder. “Did I say something — ”

“So you’re not as apart from reality as you let it on,” Yoongi stated, weirdly amused. 

Taehyung blinked at him, like his little secret had just gotten discovered. Then, he relaxed into a lazy smile. “Really don’t understand what hyung is talking about. Of course I know all about you. Who doesn’t? It just takes me a while to remember stuff.”

Yoongi shrugged. “If you admitted that you just wanted to hear the direct story from me, maybe I’d tell you.”

“Really?” Taehyung perked up.

Yoongi smiled. “Of course!” Taehyung smiled back. Yoongi added, “But now I won’t.” And the smiles simultaneously fell off him and Taehyung, turning into the scowls; and they moved on. 

So, it had been…three days since Kim Namjoon started working on the script and Yoongi took Taehyung under his authority, and they were going…okay. Really. Nothing extraordinary, if you wouldn’t count the amount of times Yoongi had the itch in him to strangle Taehyung. 

He had come to know it was his normal body reaction when Taehyung was next to him. Like an allergy, just a bit worse. 

Today they were visiting the company. Yoongi had planned to show Taehyung around since the director claimed he’d never been in one of those ‘fancy company buildings’ except for the time when he worked as an intern for the Management SOOP.

“They kicked me out after two days, though,” Taehyung had said as he munched on the melona ice cream.

Yoongi had raised his eyebrows at him. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Taehyung had reassured him.

Yoongi had given him a look. 

“Really!” Taehyung defended himself, and Yoongi almost — almost believed him with the way his voice sounded so wrongfully accused. “It wasn’t my fault that their main director sucked at blocking that scene! I only spoke the truth!”

Yoongi had exhaled tiredly. The alley they lounged at wasn’t the right time and place to choke Taehyung, so he busied himself with the ice cream in his hands. 

Yoongi had chosen the company building as their activity today solely for two reasons: first of all, he wanted to give Taehyung an actual experience of the way he could live if he wasn’t such an annoying artistic prick; second, the company was always busy with people. People were potential witnesses. The fact that Taehyung’s murdering act could be witnessed decreased Yoongi’s occasional ire outbursts.

They visited studio rooms first, interrupted several filming processes, bowed and apologised, Yoongi burning up with shame; and went up a level to editing rooms. 

It was a corridor full of doors. Yoongi chose the random one, praying nobody would be inside. 

Success. 

“Woah, so that’s the editing room?” Taehyung fanatically whirled his head around. “Oh my god, it’s literally like, the size of our office.”

It wasn’t that the editing room of the company had much space. It was just that Taehyung’s and Namjoon’s office was tiny. If Yoongi were to spend his five years in there, he’d become claustrophobic. 

“This is so exciting. I wish Namjoon could visit it too.” Taehyung sighed dreamily, and squeezed Yoongi’s arm. He was all about touching. When something piqued his interest, he’d clutch on Yoongi’s hand or shoulder; when something upset him, he’d repeatedly tap Yoongi’s arm and point his finger at his distress. 

Yoongi had come to peace with that. Taehyung’s love for touching was not the worst thing he had to endure in these three days.

“ — I’d really appreciate it if you kept your paws off my boyfriend.”

Yoongi’s heart stopped. He hadn’t noticed someone else entering the room, but now that the new voice had joined them, resonating both sternly and upset — Yoongi pivoted. 

“Jungkook-ah?”

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook said in a tone that sent Yoongi spiralling and worrying. It was rare for Jungkook to sound this…serious. He stepped deeper inside the room, looking around cautiously. “What is going on here?”

“Hyung’s showing me around the company building,” Taehyung mused.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Does it involve groping my boyfriend?”

“Okay, I wouldn’t call it groping per se — ” Yoongi tried cutting in but was stopped by Jungkook’s hand.

“He’s just so squishy!” Taehyung reasoned. 

“My boyfriend?” Jungkook clarified.

“Why do you keep calling me your boyfriend and not by name — ” Yoongi tried again but got stopped by Taehyung’s hand.

Taehyung leaned into his ear. “Hyung, the little one is jealous,” he whispered fanatically, too loud to be addressing Yoongi only. “Is he a violent person? I see muscles under his sweater, I’m kind of getting scared — ”

“I’m not jealous!” Jungkook protested, high-pitched and terrorized. Any second from now there’d be steam coming from his ears. “And I’m not a violent person!”

“Okay, okay, Jungkook-ah, okay, nobody accuses you of anything, okay?” Yoongi blabbered. He pushed Taehyung’s hands off, grabbed Jungkook’s wrist, and yanked him out of the editing room. He slammed the door closed to Taehyung’s bewildered stare. 

The hall was silent. 

Jungkook stared at his feet. Yoongi tried calming his hammering heart down. 

“I wasn’t jealous,” Jungkook repeated quietly. “I just — ”

Yoongi patiently waited for him. He didn’t want to push Jungkook for elaborations. He knew better than to complicate fake relationships. 

“Actually, it’s your fault,” Jungkook suddenly said, his voice getting louder with each word. His head snapped up, and he levelled Yoongi with his stare. “Why do you let other people touch you? What if someone saw you? We don’t need an article accusing you of cheating!” Jungkook pointed at himself. “When I get hit on, I always tell people right away that I’m taken and happily supplied for my love life!”

“I’ve told him! He knows about you!” Yoongi defended himself. “I didn’t notice Taehyung was touching me in an inappropriate way. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on. I would’ve never put us into danger such as attracting publicity, nor have I ever cheated on my partner.”

Jungkook frowned in confusion. “I didn’t mean — ”

“But you said exactly that.”

Yoongi didn’t intend to be so harsh. Maybe it was something about how low and calm he managed to sound for the words to snap in the quietness of the corridor hall. 

Jungkook’s head again sank low. Jungkook again wouldn’t meet his stare. 

Okay, Yoongi had just upset Jungkook, and he didn’t like this feeling. Mikyung was going to give him shit again if she learned about it.

So Yoongi took a small step forward and bent over to catch Jungkook’s eyes. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispered. “I’m being childish again.”

“And I’m being boring again. No big deal.” Yoongi tried gently pulling Jungkook’s chin up. He wasn’t sure if it came out as gentle as he had wanted to, but it worked — he no longer had to bend, and instead his head snapped up to be met with Jungkook’s dark pupils. 

“I really, really didn’t mean that,” Jungkook repeated, his eyes sliding off Yoongi’s face and clinging onto everything in the hall but onto Yoongi. “I just —  I’m not possessive , I swear.” His lips made a thin line, and he seemed to have finally found the courage to lock eyes with Yoongi as he pushed out an uncomfortable, quiet, “I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you somehow?”

He was so sweet. Of course he’d say something similar to that. Jealousy was an emotion Yoongi hadn’t suspected existed in him, and even though his accusations were hurtful, it still was so nice to hear — him, apologising, making up to his mistakes. 

“You can,” Yoongi said, surprising both Jungkook and himself as the bulb lit up over his head. “Hang out with me and Taehyung.”

Jungkook stared at him, clearly not understanding. 

“Look,” Yoongi explained, his hands animatedly accompanying his speech — dammit, Jimin and the habits Yoongi had picked up from him, “I’ve spent the last three days with Taehyung, and to be honest, I understand now why Kim Namjoon couldn’t write for five years. Taehyung is great but he’s exhausting. If you could entertain him and help me out a bit, we could also show him your total…unpossessive…side of you.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened.  “Hyung, do you ask me to put on a show for Taehyung-ssi?”

“...Yes? I guess, yes? If you don’t have a schedule?”

“Alright. I can totally do that. Yes. My shooting starts near midnight.” Jungkook smiled. “Would that be okay if I was…a bit touchier than usual?”

Well, they were usually out in public places so they didn’t bother with PDA so much. But Yoongi could totally handle a bit touchier. No big deal. “Allowed,” Yoongi said without hesitation. “Since I upset you with my actions earlier so much, you can, um, totally use me. Um. Yeah. It sounded a bit—”

“Yeah—”

“ — I mean, you get what I’m saying?”

“Totally,” Jungkook nodded. “Thanks.”

Silence. “Jeon Jungkook, are you blushing?”

“ —No.” Jungkook shook his head. He pursed his lips, and reached his hand to Yoongi, shyly freezing in the middle of the breached space. “Hold my hand?”

“Okay. Anything.”

Jungkook’s fingers quickly slipped past through Yoongi’s, settled down in Yoongi’s palm, and Yoongi felt as if the heat of the whole universe had narrowed down to their joined palms. He was hyper-aware of each knuckle, of each Jungkook’s digit, of every inch of their skin touching.

Well. He was screwed.

Maybe he couldn’t handle a bit touchier. Maybe he couldn’t handle touching at all. 

Taehyung’s nose peeked out from the door. “Sorry, Jeon Jungkook-ssi, are you done scolding your, um, boyfriend? It’s just that your, uh, boyfriend promised me to show the company’s buffet, and I’m getting kind of hungry.”

Yoongi wanted to tell him that nobody was scolding anyone here.

“I’m done,” Jungkook confirmed with a stern nod. “We can go to the buffet now.”

“Neat,” Taehyung’s nose scrunched like he smiled behind the door. Then, Taehyung wholly came out of the door. He closed it with a soft thump, sheepishly glancing between Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s linked hands. “I think we started with a wrong note. Let me introduce myself properly.”

Jungkook smirked. “Maybe. Okay, let’s do it properly.”

Taehyung bowed. “I’m Kim Taehyung, the director of your boyfriend’s future movie. I’m going to give him his happy ending.”

The smirk fell from Jungkook’s face. He suddenly seemed taller, steadier; more mature. He shook hands with Taehyung, not letting go of Yoongi even for a second. “I’m Jeon Jungkook, an actor. Thank you for taking care of Yoongi for me. Thank you for giving him a chance at his happy ending.”

Park Jimin Manager is calling you…

“Hello — ”

“Hyung, it’s over. The script.”

“... What? It’s only been three days.”

“I don’t know! This is batshit crazy. He ate and typed at the same time! He refused to drink the water I brought him because apparently it was going to make him visit a bathroom way too many times!”

“Wait, I don’t understand. The first draft is actually completed?”

“Yes! … One hundred and twelve pages! He’s going to edit it, of course, but… Hyung, the script is all written out. He let me read the last page… Hyung — shit, I’m getting emotional — but hyung… it has a happy ending.”

It was about three a.m. that the call went through. 

Yoongi had never been a fan of night calls. They could only mean two things. Somebody died, got into trouble, was seriously sick, or — the pre-calls to shootings. Either way, nothing good. 

Yoongi hadn’t been filming anything. So, realistically, the call could only mean the absolute worst. 

“Is everything okay?” was the first thing Yoongi asked, his heart already out of his chest. He hadn’t been asleep, reading Namjoon’s script instead of going to bed. Initially, he’d promised himself to read only one third of the screenplay, then compromised with himself for a half of it, and still found himself on the edge of the sofa, nails bitten to red raw, as he was reaching the climax of the story.

It was just the way Kim Namjoon wrote. Once you started, you’d never be satisfied enough until you learned how the story ended. 

Yoongi had never let his emotions into reading scripts. He’d always read them through with professional eyes, analysing the text, the way he would act the scenes out, if he was suited for the role or not.

It wasn’t the case with Kim Namjoon’s story. It just — existed, right here, right in front of Yoongi; so easy to brush his fingers against, to grasp it into his touch, and Yoongi couldn’t care less if he could act in it or not. 

He knew the happy ending was happening, but he needed to know why, how, at what cost — 

It was when the call got through. Yoongi had to blink, thread Kim Namjoon’s water to float up, suffocating with the real air. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi pushed, sick with anxiety; the way his heart was ready to combust. “Jungkook-ah, is everything okay?”

Night calls.

How much he hated them.

“Oh, yes, right, sorry. I didn’t realise you picked up the call. Everything’s okay,” Jungkook quickly reassured him, no Hello nor Good evening. “It’s just —  Shit, I know it’s very late, but I’m filming for the second part of My Youth season right now, and we’re in a big rush as usual for the second parts, and one actor has ditched on us, and we’re like, losing a crazy amount of money each second we’re not filming, and I — ”

Okay.

It was the pre-call.

“Gotcha,” Yoongi said. He hated that he would have to abandon the script, but Jungkook needed him, Jungkook called him, asking for help, and Yoongi wasn’t about to turn him down. He couldn’t do it, he thought. Never. “Where are you?”

Jungkook sighed in relief. “The usual pavilion. I’ll message you a QR code and the script lines. There aren’t many. You’ll manage.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi said dryly. “I’ll be there in an hour. Try to calm your director down. The help is coming.”

There was a pause, and Yoongi thought Jungkook had hung up.

Suddenly—“I want to ask you for one more thing but I’m too scared you’ll refuse.”

Yoongi clutched the phone to his ear as he tugged a sock on his foot. “What is it? Tell hyung.”

“Please don’t drive here yourself. Call a cab. Ask Jimin. It’s late, and dark, and you have astigmatism, and you’ve just woken up—”

“Jungkook.”

“I know you’re an adult, and that you can take care of yourself just fine, but hyung, I just — I…I worry.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi said. “It’s fine. Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll call Jimin, is that alright?”

“Yeah, perfect. I’m sorry. I didn’t overstep?”

“No, it’s fine. How do you know I have astigmatism?”

A pause. “You squint your eyes whenever I point at something at a distance. You should start wearing glasses. Or, I don’t know. Stop staring at your phone so much.”

Yoongi cleared his throat. “Um. Okay.”

“I, uh. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

The air of Yoongi’s apartment was still thick with awkwardness even as the call ended. Yoongi sat for five seconds in silence, the script abandoned on the sofa, and kept going in his head over the conversation that had just happened.

After five seconds, he managed to collect himself, called Jimin, and gathered his needed things in order to go filming.

Jimin gave him a look that spoke volumes as Yoongi slipped inside the car. There were so many layers to the way he gawked at Yoongi, the layers and the meanings of which Yoongi didn’t want to give in to. 

“Shut it,” he bit quietly, and drew his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna rehearse the lines. Please drive safely.”

Jimin scowled at him and pulled out of the parking lot. The streets were empty as they rushed out of Seoul, to the planted fields. It was spring, after all. The season of blooming.

Jungkook was right. There wasn't that much required of Yoongi in the script. And his side character, if you’d care about him, definitely would not be getting the happy ending after that scene he and Jungkook would be acting out. 

Not that Yoongi had expected it.

By the time he and Jimin arrived at the pavilion, the sun was starting to rise, and Yoongi had memorised all of his lines. Everything went in a familiar blur: getting his hair and makeup done, fitting into the clothes, exchanging the words with the director.

“Thank you so much, Min Yoongi-ssi,” he said, bowing.

“No trouble at all,” Yoongi lied, catching a glimpse of Jungkook at the back of the set with the corner of his eye. There were about a hundred people shuffling back and forth, yelling, changing the lights, apple boxes thrown around in everyone’s way; and Yoongi still could only look at Jungkook, could only see him.

“Let’s walk through the blocking quickly, okay?” the director continued. He beckoned Jungkook. “I don’t need anything extraordinary, especially considering the situation, but let’s give it our best.”

“Hot points!” was yelled out by someone carrying a C-stand.

Yoongi jerked Jungkook’s wrist, with a bit more strength that he should’ve probably used. Jungkook stumbled into his shoulder, and in the spot where he’d previously stood, the C-stand’s legs swung.

Yoongi worriedly scanned Jungkook over. He looked drowsy, with the bags under his eyes hidden with a heavy foundation. It wasn’t any surprise that he didn’t even notice the call for points. He needed a good sleep, maybe some food, maybe someone’s loving hand to take care of him. 

That was the reason why Yoongi would’ve never agreed to act on Korean dramas — most of them were filmed in a rush where none of the crew were safe from the unhealthy schedule. First episodes were filmed in prior, and as they were airing on the TV, the crew was picking up the project again, the screenwriter rushed to advance the script to audience’s reactions, and actors were barely admitted to rest. If a second lead like Jungkook was struggling, Yoongi was too afraid to ask how the main star was doing. 

Yoongi naturally found himself stroking Jungkook’s back, hoping it’d bring at least some sort of comfort and relief.

I’m here. We’ll act this scene out. You’ll go rest. 

Perhaps, Jungkook found himself naturally relaxing into Yoongi’s touch, seeking the warmth, the solace, the support.

I’m tired. I wanna go home. I’m happy you’re here. 

Yeah, Yoongi would never sign up for acting in the drama if it weren’t for Jungkook.

“Lovebirds, I believe your chemistry will be unmatched on the screen,” the director said as he stared at them with something close to adoration and sympathy. “Let’s get to work now, yeah?”

Yoongi and Jungkook exchanged a look. They hadn’t had a chance to talk to each other since Yoongi’s arrival — and now they had to sober up and part again. The director walked both of them through the scene, his assistants helped with each step Jungkook and Yoongi would take; the Director of Photography later joined them in, and he and the director discussed the camera positions; someone called for the Last looks, and as the stylists fixed their flawless hair strands, adding final touch-ups, Yoongi and Jungkook threw their lines back and forth between each other. 

“You’re a lovely couple,” one of the stylists said. “I’ve always thought that it was just kind of, you know, a stunt, ” she said, and Yoongi felt the smile withering on his face, “since the timing was just too perfect. Min Yoongi-ssi had his film coming up, Jungkook-ssi worked on this drama… but now that I saw you here, an actor as big as you are, coming at night just to have a cameo in this, I think I understand.” 

And she laughed sweetly, as if she didn’t just say the most unhinged words Yoongi had ever received right to his face. 

He managed to fake a smile. The stylist seemed to buy it as his real one.

He was a great actor, after all. One of a kind. He got paid big money for that. 

He wasn’t getting any money for his cameo in this drama as he normally would. Originally, the actor who’d ditched was about to receive a pathetic n-thousand won, and Yoongi politely declined the offer. 

I’ll just play, he had said. For Jungkook.

Mikyung would better be proud of him for that. He was going against his personal interests for the stunt she’d lulled him in. 

Except — was he, really? 

If everything in him ached to act with Jungkook in front of the camera?

With the fake relationship, making a show in front of the other — it was just fooling around. It wasn’t a real act. Yoongi was still somewhat Yoongi. Jungkook was still somewhat Jungkook.

But here, they were different people; with different past and different thoughts, different ways to express themselves. It was thrilling; it always had. Yoongi hadn’t acted in months, and he had been dying for this, he had longed for this more than for anything else in his life.

For Jungkook’s eyes to stumble into him. They were dark, and not warm, not soft at all, so unlike Jungkook that Yoongi had come to know.

“We love,” Jungkook said, or maybe he had sailed away and Yoongi had already lost him; and it was Kim Sungho in front of Yoongi now. “We love because He first loved us.” 

Yoongi let it flow, shuddering. He pushed the words out his mouth, a perfect line delivered at the perfect time, perfect tone — “What do you mean?” He had slipped into lisp with his character, Kim Hyukpil was his name; into the dialect of the province Yoongi hadn’t even visited once in his life. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kim Sungho smirked, so ugly that Yoongi felt like vomiting his insides out. 

He let this fear settle in his bones. 

Kim Hyukpil smirked twice as ugly. “Crazy bastard,” he whispered. 

“Cut,” the director’s assistant announced. 

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Jeon Jungkook is rumoured to star in yet another drama this year! That’s what we know so far: he’ll be the main lead for the first time in his career, the filming begins in July, and the final episode is going to take place in Taipei.

[+5,211] [-322] Jungkook works so hard omg. my youth had just finished airing, and he’ll be starring in another drama again!!  AND AS THE MAIN LEAD !!!

Another meeting; another empty conference room. Mikyung hadn’t arrived yet.

“Jungkook is going to Taiwan,” Jimin said conversationally, fingers tapping on the desk. “To finish his drama.”

“Oh. They’ve already finished filming?” Yoongi hummed respectfully. The last time he heard from Jungkook, they were in the middle of the process. They hadn’t contacted each other much. Yoongi loathed to admit that it felt wrong, not having Jungkook by his side. “That was fast.”

“It is an eight-episode show, that’s why,” Jimin said. He changed his position, clutching his hands in a lock, and leaned closer to Yoongi across the table. “Hyung… he wants you to come with him.”

A pause. Yoongi’s heart, missing a beat. Then, a collected, nonchalant, “And you, not Jungkook, are telling me this because…?”

“Jungkook was too shy to bring it up with you.”

Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes. That was an inherently wrong statement. The Jungkook that Yoongi knew (and Yoongi knew him relatively well ) was an unbearable guy with zero shame. 

Jimin frowned. “What is that look supposed to mean? Jungkook is literally the shyest person I know.”

“Yeah, he’s shy when he’s in public with me.” 

Jimin blinked in confusion. “Um. Anyway. I think you should go.”

“Why? We’re digging for funding. I can't leave my project.” 

It wasn’t that Yoongi was that much of a control freak. He totally wasn’t. But there was his heart, big and with too much love to carry, and he got so used to being in the process of pre-production that he couldn’t imagine ditching it now. He was in this. Together; with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung. 

“Leave it to me and Taehyung,” Jimin said. “Remember, you’re supposed to rest and focus on Jungkook? This Taiwan trip is exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

Yoongi wanted to tell him he was tired of leisuring. His body craved work; his mind craved to become someone else. The last exciting thing he could remember doing was going on a walk with noona and her dog Holly, and acting in a five minute scene with Jungkook. 

“It’s only for four days,” Jimin pushed. “Taehyung told me that he found a DP, and they are going to start working on a storyboard while you’re away. Namjoon and I’ll pitch the script to the companies that are left on our list. You’re not alone, hyung.”

“Okay,” Yoongi said. He didn’t say that to agree, neither with the proposition nor with the sappy You’re not alone line (it was getting pretty old-fashioned, and even an actor as good as Yoongi was, wouldn’t be able to deliver it well, without overdoing it). Yoongi’s Okay was just a word to fill the silence. 

“Look, if you don’t agree to this voluntarily, I am going to mention it with Mikyung-noona and she’ll make you do it anyway, because even from a PR standpoint, it is the right move,” Jimin threatened.

“You won’t fucking dare — ”

“I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it.”

Jimin looked like he was about to add something more — but this moment Mikyung marched in, and he shut his mouth, crawling away from Yoongi. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous spark in them. 

Yoongi’s skin got goosebumps when he realised that Jimin would do it.  

“Let’s begin the meeting,” Mikyung said. “I don’t have much time, so we should be quick.”

She never had time. Not for Yoongi. It was getting ridiculous. 

“Tell noona I say hi,” Yoongi murmured after Mikyung had announced the meeting finished and was on her way to kick Yoongi and Jimin out of the conference room. 

“Of course,” Mikyung said, indicating that she wouldn’t be telling any of Yoongi’s noonas he said hi to them. 

Jungkook’s fingers squeezed Yoongi’s in a nervous tic. 

Yoongi tried squeezing Jungkook’s palm in a reassuring gesture, and Jungkook sent him a thankful crooked smile that was supposed to be something along the lines ‘Don’t worry, I’m okay’ but only made Yoongi worry more.

It was a weird and surprising change in Jungkook. Only seconds ago he had confidently marched past journalists that blinded them with camera flashes with a stoic expression to his face, but now that he and Yoongi were finally in the more private part of the airport, he seemed quiet and strung out. 

Maybe it was just his exhaustion from working on the two dramas in a short time span, without allowing himself to rest, that made him that way; maybe it was that the increasing attention he and Yoongi had been getting lately that didn’t let him to take a breather; maybe it was something else completely and Yoongi should’ve just minded his own business. Jungkook didn’t owe him an explanation. 

But he looked so — not himself. Not the sunny, sweet boy-next-door. More like an overworked, uptight neighbour across the hall that you avoided in order not to get on his nerves with your ‘ Good morning!’. 

“Hey,” Yoongi mumbled as they moved to their gate area. He brushed his thumb over one of Jungkook’s knuckle tattoos. “What’s wrong? You’re not scared of flying, are you?”

Jungkook looked at him like he had been just caught in crime. “No,” he croaked quietly. “No, I’m not. It’s just — ”

“Oh, Jungkook-ah, here you are! You brought company?”

Out of nowhere, in front of them a beehive appeared. Tons of people; everyone with their backpacks full packed, cameras and tripod bags. Someone was filming even now, probably for the behind the scenes promo. Yoongi’s and Jungkook’s entrance had definitely been caught by the camera; and Yoongi was glad he didn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand as he had initially planned after passing the reporters.

God, Yoongi hated when Jimin was right about publicity.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook said. He swallowed a tight knot down his throat; the one that made his voice thick and trembling, maybe the one that kept him nervous and tense. “I’ll introduce you to the team.”

Oh, was Jungkook worried about that?  

Yoongi mentally slapped himself. It was Jungkook's first lead role, of course he was worried about that. 

Unlike Jungkook’s previous project, Yoongi hadn’t visited him on the set of this one. He had been so busy with Taehyung and Namjoon and his happy ending that before he could even think of coming to Jungkook’s work, it was already over and they were at the Incheon airport, about to meet with Jungkook’s crew.

In hindsight, Yoongi should’ve done better. He should’ve found time for Jungkook. He realised it now, and hated that Jungkook had never brought it up with him. 

Jungkook had been a great trophy husband to him at the Legacy premiere. Yoongi was going to return the favour. 

He let go of Jungkook’s hand to stroke Jungkook’s back reassuringly and nudge him in the direction of where the director and producer occupied the space. Jungkook looked at him; like yet another ‘Oh’ was about to fall from his tongue. Yoongi raised eyebrows at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, and led the way. 

“Jungkookie’s here,” some woman mused. She took a step back, revealing a man she had been initially talking to.

Yoongi knew him; they’d met and talked a couple of times. He had always striked Yoongi as someone who could’ve offered Yoongi his happy ending, if not for the fact that the man worked on TV shows and Yoongi worked on feature-length films. So — the happy ending had always been at the arm length. It just wasn’t Yoongi’s arm. 

“PD-nim,” Jungkook pouted; adorable and petulant. “Hi. We’re here.”

The man smiled. He was in his fifties; short and all shoulders; and had this kind of misbehaved kid aura around him and the way he spoke. 

He and Jungkook must hit it off, Yoongi thought, and it suddenly warmed his heart — to know that Jungkook was in good hands, that Jungkook was taken care of. 

“Good morning, Jungkook-ah! I’m pleased to hear ‘we’. You seem to have taken my advice and invited your partner to our little trip?” the director wiggled his eyebrows, and sent another grin to Yoongi, full of mischief. He reached out to Yoongi with his hand. “Hello, Yoongi-yah. Long time no see. Is it okay if I talk to you casually right away?”

Yoongi rushed to shake the director’s hand, bowing along the way. “Of course. Thank you for having me.”

The man waved him off. “The more the merrier. We planned this huge celebration for the wrap day.” He showed with his extended arms just about how big the celebration would be, and kept extending them, and extending until — his right hand brushed Jungkook’s hair and messed it all over. “Am I right, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook scoffed, wiggling out of the touch. “PD-nim is mean.” He tried fixing his hair back into an appropriate state. Yoongi had to intervene and help him, patting him on the back after and offering a sympathetic smile. 

Jungkook sent him a grin back, wide and less stressed. He definitely didn’t mind the director’s antics as much as he let on. 

“I’ll assume you two already know each other, then. But hyung,” Jungkook tugged Yoongi even closer to himself, “have you met our amazing PA-nim? This is Soohyun-noona.”

Yoongi shook hands with the Production Assistant, exchanging quiet smiles with her. He was introduced to various people surrounding the narrowed space; all these people who were pouring love and talent into Jungkook’s project. They were older than Jungkook and adored him, caressing and teasing him softly, with no bite. 

Jungkook untensed in the middle of Yoongi’s introductions, around the time when he probably noticed that everyone accepted Yoongi the same kind, open-handed and warm-hearted way that they had accepted Jungkook all these weeks ago. 

Jungkook’d never had anything to worry about. He had his own  way with charming people everywhere he went, sure, but Yoongi wasn’t all that bad. He was on the quieter side, but he was polite, considerate and well-mannered. His name worked for him, but he didn’t forget to treat his elders with a deep bow and address them as formally as he possibly could. 

“Welcome to the family,” someone told Yoongi — was it Production Designer or Props Master? “We’ve been filming dramas together for decades. It’s nice to see young people coming in to take over our business one day.”

“Jungkookie’s talking about you lots,” the scriptwriter filled Yoongi in, winking at him warmly. Jungkook pouted at her, and she laughed so loudly and obnoxiously that Yoongi immediately took a liking in her. They shook hands. “We were very excited to meet you.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at Jungkook, and was a witness of Jungkook blushing hard and scowling at the scriptwriter. She pinched his cheek and tutted as she retrieved something along the lines of ‘ Ah, young love ’. 

“Let’s have fun filming, okay?” DP, Director of Photography, smiled, and squeezed Jungkook’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying to take care of your man right here, but he’s impossible to keep up with. He’s the one who always suggests doing yet another take even after we’ve just done a perfect one.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi chuckled, glancing at Jungkook. “He’s a bit of a perfectionist.”

A girl came up to them, eventually interrupting the introductions, her badge reading ‘2nd AD’, the Assistant Director to the first one. 

“Call sheets were just printed,” she said, and began giving them out to the crew.

Watching her, Yoongi couldn’t help but to think back to Bae Ara. The simple runner girl Bae Ara was quick and deft in her motions. She had her giant pile of papers organised in a way that she always knew where a specific sheet was taking place; and if Yoongi, for example, would ask her to give him a schedule for a shooting day three days prior, she’d find it for him within seconds. 

This 2nd AD was struggling to even give out the call sheets, to the point where Yoongi felt the urge to step in and suggest he would hold the papers for her and she would distribute them around the crew. She accepted easily, not sparing Yoongi a glance, and they both went around the circle, giving out the sheets.

When her eyes finally landed on Yoongi as they finished with the papers, they snapped wide and the girl began apologising on her behalf.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi-ssi,” her head dunked low, “I haven’t — realised you were here. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to come across as someone utilising an actor as big as you — ”

Women were apologising so much, it broke Yoongi’s heart sometimes. Women said ‘Sorry’ even when it wasn’t required. Sometimes they said ‘ Sorry’ before they spoke almost as if they had no right to speak their mind openly. 

Sorry, I think we should re-block this scene, it doesn’t work out.

Why would women say sorry, if it was an undeniable fact that blocking the scene this way wasn’t working out?

Sorry, we’re about to hit a meal penalty. I think it’s time for a lunch break.

Sorrysorrysorrysorry—

“You didn’t say nor do anything to be sorry for,” Yoongi cut her off. He hoped it sounded gentle. He was afraid it did not. “I offered help. You agreed.”

“Yeah, but — ”

“Do you need me to help you a bit more? I can walk around and help give out the rest of the call sheets.”

The assistant's eyes again widened. She wouldn’t meet his stare, clearly embarrassed, and Yoongi feared that he overstepped, that he abused his power again as he tried to make himself of use, and he was prepared to tell his own apologies when the girl nodded shortly.

“ — If it’s not too much of a struggle for you, Min Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi shot a glance to Jungkook, making sure he was on board with it as well. Jungkook nodded, and Yoongi squeezed his elbow before departing after the assistant. 

“The man you’ve chosen,” he heard the director say to Jungkook, “has a big heart.”

“I know,” he heard Jungkook sigh. He felt Jungkook’s eyes walking his back out; it was impossible not to feel Jungkook’s stare on you. “I know . It’s both the curse and the blessing.”

@FilmUpdates: It seems like Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook are becoming a Gruesome Twosome! Jeon Jungkook had been reported earlier to be going to Taiwan to film the last episode of his future drama — who knew Min Yoongi would like to tag along?!

[+8,993] [-211] idk is it just me but it is so nice that yoongi and jungkook like to do everything together :( they can’t even spend a week apart :( i hope they have fun in taiwan!!

“So, how is this huge ,” Jungkook extended his arms, “celebration going for you?”

Four days had gone in a blur. Yoongi had missed this atmosphere of never-ending sugar rush when filming; where everyone knew their place and positions. He was introduced to Jungkook’s co-stars, but they weren’t as welcoming as the crew. Yoongi didn’t like the way they treated Jungkook, and he definitely didn’t like the way they changed their attitude from cocky and condescending to admiring and respectful when talking to Yoongi. 

He had made sure to avoid them on the set. Jungkook had said he was being unreasonable. They’d had their first fight (kind of)(Jungkook made Yoongi sleep on the couch in their hotel room instead of sharing the bed). 

“It’s going alright,” Yoongi said now, tugging on Jungkook’s wrist. He didn’t process the reason behind his action, couldn’t come up with one, except that Jungkook’s silk skin always felt so nice under Yoongi’s touch. “I’m having fun.” He was having way too many drinks with the friends he had made at the filming.

Yoongi had mostly spent his time in the back of a video village. He was curious, of course. He wanted to come closer, wanted to watch Jungkook come alive in front of the camera, to see if the cameras treated him as delicately as DP did; but he knew better than to clog in the first rows and tower over the director’s shoulders. Yoongi was an intruder, after all, and he didn’t want to interrupt the process. 

So he sulked in the back, where most of the other video village tourists like him were located. There was a surprisingly big number of translators, who later on explained to Yoongi that they were on the set because of the Taiwan camera crew that had been hired for working on the drama. The translators were women a bit older than Yoongi, and they hit it off immediately. 

Was it hard learning Korean? How did you decide on studying Korean and, let’s say, not Japanese? Ah, you know Japanese too… Mhm, why not German then? Oh, alright, you know German as well…

Yoongi was good at making friends. If he didn’t get along with Jungkook’s snobby co-stars, it didn’t mean he was socially awkward (Jungkook’s words). If he actually was socially awkward, he wouldn’t be sitting at the wrapping party at one table with the translators, having fun and too many drinks, and he definitely wouldn’t be tugging on Jungkook’s wrist as shamelessly as he was now. 

Jungkook didn’t protest Yoongi's pulling. He ended up on Yoongi’s lap, at a bit awkward angle, at a bit too close proximity for tipsy Yoongi to handle it professionally. 

“Oh my god, you’re heavy,” he muttered, and Jungkook immediately made a move to stand. “It’s okay,” Yoongi rushed, readjusting his hands and Jungkook’s weight on his thighs. “Just let me — Yep, okay, that’s better.”

Jungkook looked over at him worriedly, with the bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” The sweat shined over his top lip, on this patch below his nose. It was too hot to keep him so close to Yoongi; they were both sticky with the sun still lingering on them. 

“Yes,” Yoongi said, his stomach boiling. He swept Jungkook’s sweaty hair away from his forehead, tucked the strands behind his ears, and felt the way Jungkook sucked his breath in.

The call sheet for day four said: ‘Sunrise: 0532A. Sunset: 0647P. Weather: 32°C (89.6°F) in the day and 24.6°C(76.3°F) by evening, no rain, very humid.’ 

It was seven p.m.

Jungkook’s skin looked golden in the last hours of the sun. 

“My boyfriend, everyone,” Yoongi mused, tearing his gaze away from Jungkook to the translators. “He’s the — ”

“Oh, he’s the main lead?” one of the translators stirred up. “Jeon Jungkook-ssi, right?”

“Hello.” Jungkook bowed shortly to everyone. He seemed tipsy. With how of an actual lightweight he was, Yoongi guessed he might have had some beer, or maybe some wine. 

Yoongi introduced the translators to him. They all clinked their glasses with wine for that. Jungkook had forgotten his beer behind, somewhere at the cast’s table, and took a sip from Yoongi’s glass after Yoongi. It left a red wet trace under his bottom lip, and Yoongi hypnotized it for a brief, barely there moment, before reaching out to wipe it away with his thumb.

Again, for no reason, no rational excuse but the way Jungkook’s eyes transfixed on his after he’d done that; and it felt different, and Jungkook’s hand on his shoulder that he had sneaked behind Yoongi’s back for better support suddenly felt blazing and tight, like all of Yoongi’s heat and existence had narrowed down to the spots where he and Jungkook were touching. 

“Yoongi-yah, some of us are single here,” one of the translators whined playfully. 

“Noona,” Yoongi pouted at her as he had to shift his attention from Jungkook. Then, out of nowhere, because maybe Yoongi was a bit more than simply tipsy — “Wait, is it weird being called noona? Like, I get it that you understand but also… it must be weird, right?”

“I mean, yes and no? It’s a bit like with the foreign name you’re given…” The translator moved on easily onto the topic, and others joined her, adding their experiences with adjusting to the foreign language’s culture. 

Jungkook was bouncing his leg all throughout the discussion. Yoongi put a hand on his thigh in a poor attempt to stop him shaking. Finally, he had an excuse behind his action; but it wasn’t an excuse that he particularly liked — 

“Hey,” he murmured. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, his face hovering over Yoongi’s, eyes huge and lamb-like, mouth parted, like even breathing through the nose was a task too demanding, too pushing.  

God, it wasn’t just Yoongi, was it?

Something was different tonight. It felt different.

“It’s just — ” Jungkook exhaled tiredly. His fingers were clutching on the hem of his shorts. “Are we okay? I kinda made a scene yesterday night.”

Even the way he talked was different. It was like he had forgotten he and Yoongi weren’t an actual thing. 

It didn’t matter if he and Yoongi had a fight or not. Yoongi would be carrying on with the contract anyway. 

“Nevermind.” Jungkook waved his hands in a dismissing manner. “It’s stupid.”

Yoongi caught on his wrists, his thumb pressing against Jungkook’s bone. “No. Let’s talk about it if it bothers you.” He nudged Jungkook from his lap. “Somewhere more private.” And somewhere Yoongi wouldn’t have to uphold Jungkook’s weight anymore. 

He had brought it upon himself, of course, but as he rose to his feet after Jungkook, his legs felt dead. 

“Shall we dance?” Jungkook suggested. “I like this song. The music’s loud, so nobody will hear us.”

He really was aiming to kill Yoongi tonight. Yoongi barely could move a muscle, and yet — “Alright,” he said. “Yeah. We can do that.” 

Jungkook dragged him to the open-air dance floor, a smile all over him. He was wearing simple shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Dressed like this, he once again reminded Yoongi of a kid. Especially with his knees looking like that. His knees were scarred like the knees of a child were supposed to be scarred. A long line over the bone, fresh purple bruise on one side of the leg, a nearly healed green splash of hurt on the other, black little dots here and there…

Jungkook looked like he spent his days at the playground, falling and scraping and tripping over and over and over under the hot sun. His skin got tan from this merciless sun, and his soul was filled with the burning energy of stars. 

Yoongi shouldn't have wanted him as much as he did.  

He was in his skinny jeans and black shirt, too afraid the sun’s love would cling on him, to his pale legs; and for the first time since long, he suddenly worried about how stupid they were going to look next to each other. 

But Jungkook looked at him so brightly. Like there was nothing to be scared of.

It was getting darker with each second; and at some point, light strings above their heads erupted in one quick motion, blinding them. There were others from the crew, but Yoongi could only look at Jungkook, could only feel his hands around Yoongi’s neck, could only focus on him. 

“I don’t actually know what to tell you,” Jungkook said as they slowly rocked together to the upbeat song. “I acted childish.” He sighed. “Again.”

“I don’t know what to tell you either,” Yoongi said in all his honesty. “I expressed my unwanted opinion. You kicked me out to the couch. It kinda seems fair to me. I’ll make sure to keep my mouth shut from now on.”

“It wasn’t unwanted,” Jungkook argued. “And hyung doesn’t need to keep his mouth shut. I want to hear him talk. I just wish you’d given them a chance. I don’t know what your problem with them is, but they really aren’t as bad as you make them seem.”

Yoongi wanted to tell Jungkook that he didn’t have a problem with them. He couldn’t care about them less. 

Yoongi wanted to tell Jungkook that he had a problem with him, the way he was treated by his co-stars, that Yoongi didn’t want to see him hurt.

But because he had no right and because yesterday night ended with him being too stubborn to listen to Jungkook, he just hummed. It wasn’t an agreement. It was just a sound to fill the silence, to show Jungkook that Yoongi was willing to listen today.

“We are okay,” Yoongi said instead of everything that was on his mind. “If you’re worried about that, we are okay. I can’t get away from you.”

An emotion crossed Jungkook’s face, an emotion Yoongi couldn’t give a name to. He pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn’t an agreement either; maybe it was just a motion to fill their prolonged staring at each other. 

Yoongi had been in the industry for long enough, and there were things he’d come to detect within seconds: shitty scripts, troublesome coworkers in the acting field, and hidden cameras recording him. 

It had stilled on him and Jungkook now, rolling from the further corner of the restaurant. The quality would be disastrous, Yoongi and Jungkook would turn into unrecognisable pixels, their actions would be up to thousands of interpretations — but did it really matter if Yoongi loved this attention, if he wanted it, if he craved it?

“Do you wanna make a show?” he asked, looking up at Jungkook through his eyelashes. 

Jungkook smiled; this beautiful mischievous smile of his that always made the whole world stop spinning for a second. “Of course. What should we do?” His hands were already on Yoongi’s body, everywhere, burning everywhere. The argument was over.

Nobody would be sleeping on the couch tonight. 

Yoongi gently put his hands on Jungkook’s face. His skin felt hot and smooth under the touch, and Yoongi couldn’t help himself but to try smoothing out Jungkook’s eyebrow, too; the same motion Jungkook did so many times with him. 

The camera on them felt as intoxicating as the alcohol in Yoongi’s blood did. It wasn’t just about wine rummaging through their veins — they had been drunk around each other before and they had behaved decently, but it definitely gave Yoongi the boldness, the cockiness; it had cut off the doubt and anxious thoughts that were usually racing through Yoongi’s mind. 

“I’ll kiss you,” he said, “and you’ll kiss me back.”

By the time Yoongi finished his phrase, Jungkook’s eyes had already fluttered closed; his mouth had already been parted. It was so easy to lean into him and capture his bottom lip, it was so easy to feel his hands tightening on Yoongi’s waist, it was so easy to be tugged into Jungkook’s embrace. 

He tasted like expensive wine and the playground’s sand; like the warm ocean breeze and all the missed opportunities Yoongi had ever had. Like all the happy endings Yoongi had never gotten.

He licked into Yoongi’s mouth, impatient and already on edge.

“Easy,” Yoongi whispered. “You kiss me as if it’s your first time kissing me. But at this point of our relationship, you should already be tired of me.”

“If I had you — ”  A kiss. “I would never — ” Another kiss. Yoongi’s body on fire. “Be tired of you. If only you were mine, I would — ”

Yoongi shut him up, too afraid his heart wasn’t ready nor really made for the words drunk Jungkook might have prepared for him. 

“Let’s go to the hotel room, hyung,” Jungkook still managed to say, and Yoongi’s world went numb.

That was what was so different about that night. They had forgotten to pack boundaries with them. They had abandoned them in Seoul, and as a consequence, now they were going beyond the pale. 

Dazed, they made a clumsy excuse to the translators. 

Jungkook isn’t feeling well, yeah, I’ll take him back to the hotel. Yeah, I know, what a pity.

They came to congratulate the director on finishing filming the drama and excuse themselves for one more time, having already forgotten their previous one.

Jungkook bowed, shook hands, mumbled something like, Thank you so much for letting me work with you. Yeah, no problem, contact me anytime. Thank you so much once again. Ah, yeah, we’re leaving — Yoongi’s not feeling that good. Yeah, he has a weak stomach. Yeah, yeah, we’ll go. Have a lovely evening. It’s your day, PD-nim. Fighting!

They caught a cab, pleaded the driver to rush, almost as if the world was ending in the next few minutes and if they wouldn’t get to touch each other intimately at least once, it’d be all just meaningless. 

Arriving at the hotel, Yoongi pushed Jungkook inside the elevator; and he — he kissed him right there, pressing against the mirror, and the security camera captured everything, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care as long as Jungkook kept pulling him in, as long as Jungkook didn’t care a single bit either. 

Yoongi was surprised to realise that this man with sad longing eyes was him in the mirror.

“Faster, c’mon,” Jungkook hurried him when Yoongi had failed to open the room. “Let me.” His hands shook as he entered the code.

The door beeped, unlocked. 

Jungkook shoved Yoongi inside, slamming the door shut with his feet. Yoongi slipped out of his Nikes, and then had to wait for Jungkook to take off his Converse.

“That’s why I fuckin’ hate them,” Jungkook muttered. He gave up on quickly abandoning his sneakers and sat down on the entryway stool. His fingers shook and he could barely untie the laces. 

“Yeah. Me too, ” Yoongi deadpanned, leaning against the wall with his back. He watched Jungkook fighting the sneakers, sighed, and squatted down. “God, why were you rushing me so much and then stall in the fucking corridor? ” He unlaced the right shoe, loosened the tongue, and took the sneaker off Jungkook’s foot. 

“Treat me kinder,” Jungkook said, cupping Yoongi’s face and stealing a short kiss from him in which Yoongi immediately gave in to. “And take off my other shoe while you’re at it,” he whispered in a tone that was intended to be sexy but only came out dorky and goofy as he pushed his left foot into Yoongi’s knee. 

“You’re extremely romantic,” Yoongi said dryly as he worked on Jungkook’s left shoe.  

“How is mocking me counts as treating me kindly?” Jungkook huffed.

“Maybe you should ask nicely for it,” Yoongi shrugged, putting the left sneaker aside. 

Jungkook’s mouth formed an ‘Oh’, but no sound came out. There was a silence where Yoongi started regretting what he said.

Then, “Please.” 

And then, “Please, please, please.” 

Jungkook kissed him again, his hands on Yoongi’s face, pulling them both up to their feet. “Please, Yoongi-hyung? Please.” 

When you repeated the same word that many times, it was supposed to lose its meaning; but even when Jungkook laid Yoongi down on the bed, still on with his begging, his please hadn’t lost the desperation, the neediness, the want. 

“Please touch me, please-please- please. ”

“I don’t have anything with me,” Yoongi panted, mind hazy with alcohol and Jungkook, him occupying every atom of Yoongi. 

Jungkook groaned. “Please, just do something — hands? With hands? Please?”

“Okay, okay, oh my god, let’s do it with hands.”

Just lust. Nothing else. They both hadn’t touched anyone ever since signing the contract seven months ago — it was one of the points included in the agreement. They should be exclusive. If they wanted intimacy, they needed to turn for a hand.

For their own hand.

For party B’s hand.

Yoongi had done it before plenty. When he had dated the others, he had done it. It wasn’t something unusual. A basic ache for human’s touch. Sometimes if you pretended enough, it was as if you actually loved the person. 

(Yoongi loved the last one. She didn’t love him back. 

Yoongi was okay with that. (He wasn’t at first, but the longer they did it the more kin he grew with the thought)).

Jungkook stripped him out of his shirt, counted his ribs, skimmed his arms. Yoongi’s body involuntarily jerked into him; arched to be closer. He wasn’t used to the way his body moved right now; wasn’t used to feeling so — seen.  

Was it because of the men’s affection? Was it because Yoongi had forgotten the way men made him feel? Or was it because Jungkook was so desperate and wanting to touch him ?

“ Why didn’t you bring anything with you?” Jungkook grumbled as his fingers shakily worked on unbuttoning Yoongi’s jeans.

“How would you feel if I did bring something with me?” Yoongi countered.

Jungkook stopped battling with Yoongi’s zipper, looked Yoongi straight in the eyes, and said, “ — Honestly? I’d be pretty fucking thankful.”

Yoongi erupted in laughter. “Why didn’t you bring anything, then?”

“I didn’t know you’d end up seducing me.”

Yoongi quirked his eyebrow. “Really? I’m pretty sure it was you who seduced me.” 

“What did I say about mocking me in bed?”

“Jeez, okay. Can I ask what is allowed in bed? Or should I just keep my mouth shut?”

Jungkook leaned in again and slotted their mouths. “Praise is allowed,” he said, kissing a trail down Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi tried not to shiver. He wasn’t very successful at that. “Also, why are you wearing fucking jeans ?” Jungkook hissed against his ear, fingers still fighting against the zipper. “I saw you getting dressed this morning and wanted to ask but figured you’d be grumpy from last night’s argument to answer me.”

Yoongi covered Jungkook’s hand with his, helping him with pulling the zipper down, lifting his hips to let Jungkook strip his pants off. He shrugged, flipping them over on the bed so he’d be the one hovering over Jungkook now. “What’s wrong with the jeans?” he asked conversationally and tugged Jungkook’s shirt over his head. 

“It’s hell out there. I barely survived in shorts.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue in agreement, and took off Jungkook's last item of clothing. 

For a long, stretched out moment they just stared at each other. Two naked adults in bed. 

Were they doing the right thing? Clearly both were intoxicated, not thinking straight, acting without any restrictions.

But the thick atmosphere of want in the room was so suffocating. 

Yoongi swallowed. “Okay, not baby, not darling and not bunny, how would you like to be praised?” 

Jungkook smiled, pulling Yoongi over, his fingers scraping Yoongi’s arms. He smiled and he kissed him as he finally touched Yoongi, initially timid as if it was his first time and growing bolder with every stroke.

“Tell me I’m good,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, seeing stars already. He pushed out a shaky, “Am I — supposed to — ah — lie? ”

Jungkook’s hand withdrew. “Okay, that’s bullying at this point.”

“Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding — ” Yoongi caught on Jungkook’s wrist, guiding it back. He leaned down, nibbing behind Jungkook’s ear. “Of course you’re good. You’re perfect.”

“Better,” Jungkook whispered.

Jungkook barely touched him, a couple of strokes, a kiss planted into Yoongi’s collarbone and the other on his throat, and probably felt powerful as Yoongi finished within seconds, if his smirk imprinting itself on Yoongi’s mouth was anything to tell by. 

“You know,” Yoongi mumbled into his shoulder, coming down from the high, “when I told Taehyung we were dating, he asked me ‘ Isn’t this guy straight as hell?’ ”

Jungkook chuckled. His fingers brushed Yoongi’s hair. “Should I act surprised?”

“He told me that we should be on the same page, you and I.” Yoongi kissed the trail down Jungkook’s chest. “And I told him I ask you next time we have sex.”

“And?” Jungkook’s voice broke down at the end of the word.

“Are you sure you’re, like —“ Yoongi raised his eyebrows, cutting off what he’d been doing previously. 

“Gay?” Jungkook asked, breathless. His chest was rising and falling tiredly. “Yes, hyung. I've known since I was fourteen and had my first celebrity crush.”

“Oh my god, who was it?”

Jungkook paused. “…I’m not telling you.”

“But I'm curious,” Yoongi pouted. It didn’t work, and all he received was a dismissive shake of Jungkook’s head. So Yoongi kissed him, deep and slow, sneaking his hand onto Jungkook, the touch a bit rough and dry and burning, and Jungkook gasped, arching into him, whispering please please please please please into Yoongi’s neck.

“Tell me,” Yoongi asked. 

Jungkook clasped his eyes, lips forming a thin string. 

“C’mon, Jungkook-ah, tell hyung,” Yoongi asked again. He felt by Jungkook’s hitched breaths and little moans that he was close, and couldn’t help himself but to abuse his power over Jungkook at that second. “Not baby, not darling and not bunny, who was your gay awakening?”

“You,” Jungkook pushed out in a tiny voice, as if he said it small and quiet enough Yoongi wouldn’t be able to decipher his words. 

“Me?” Yoongi asked dumbly.

Jungkook nodded his head frantically. “You, you — it was you.” 

Next morning they were rushing to the airport. Being too preoccupied with themselves last night, they’d totally forgotten to pack their bags, and now had to hurry to arrive at the airport on time,

“Damn, Bae Ara’s powers would be really helpful right now,” Yoongi said, scratching his neck as he stared helplessly at his luggage. “She’d organise it all in a second.”

Jungkook laughed from where he’d been struggling with his suitcase. “Yeah, you’re right.” He lifted two absolutely identical white t-shirts. “Hey, hyung. Should I wear this shirt or that one?”

Yoongi stared at him, not quite believing his eyes. Jungkook’s neck was full of love bites Yoongi had marked him with (drunk Min Yoongi was a very possessive man by nature, fighting his way with cheesy phrases like ‘Gonna show ‘em you’re mine’ ), and none of these shirts were going to not let people see.

“You should try at least pretending to cover it,” Yoongi said. 

He was glad they didn’t avoid the topic of last night’s events — when he woke up first, he’d dreaded the confrontation. But it went easier than he’d expected. 

“Jungkook, I don’t want it to be friends with benefits thing,” he had said.

Jungkook’s eyes had lit up. “Of course! Me neither!”

Which was — ouch. Even though it was Yoongi’s idea to phrase it like that, Jungkook's enthusiasm hurt. Was Yoongi really that bad of a lover to decline him so quickly, without allowing a little doubt?

“So, like. This won’t happen again?” Yoongi had made sure. “We had fun, but that’s where it ends.”

“Oh,” Jungkook had said, and somehow, for a long second, Yoongi hated himself. 

It was a bad ‘Oh’. Yoongi just couldn’t figure out why. 

And now that Jungkook turned to him, and smiled at him — so happily and coyly at the same time that Yoongi felt like his heart got stuck in his throat, Yoongi understood. 

“I don’t want to cover it,” Jungkook said proudly. “I want them all to know.”

“I assure you, they are all aware of what we’re doing behind the closed doors,” Yoongi said, swallowing a coil instead of a heart down his throat. 

It was going to turn into friends with benefits thing. All over again.

The déjà vu feeling refused to leave Yoongi’s body. 

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Taiwan trip had finished for our Gruesome Twosome! :) Here are some photos from the airport: xxx.com 

[+11,002] [-43] well…they definitely had fun. 

“Quit staring and just tell me whatever you want to tell me.” 

Jimin pushed forward to Yoongi and studied the fading bruises on his neck. He poked one of them, Yoongi hissed; and Jimin lounged back with both a smug and displeased look. “I really want you to tell me that it’s an accident you and Jungkook have hickeys at the same time.”

Yoongi averted Jimin’s gaze, and picked at his grilled mackerel instead. “He’s my boyfriend, how can it be an accident?” he asked quietly.

“He’s not,” Jimin reminded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The dumpling soup, one of his favourite dishes, was steaming right into his face and he really was focusing on scolding Yoongi rather than eating. 

“Well, yeah, but — ” Yoongi sighed. He put his chopsticks aside, deciding that abusing the fish was not worth it. He lifted his eyes to Jimin’s face. “We just were drunk. Fooling around with party B is not prohibited.”

“I’ll make sure to include it in the next contract.”

“And here I was, thinking it was the last one.”

Jimin again got this look of a dog — both annoyed and sad. Finally, he picked the spoon up and dug into the soup. “Yeah. Sorry. It sounded bad.”

Yoongi really didn’t know what to tell him, so he stayed silent. He filled their previously empty soju glasses. It was some nights after Yoongi had returned from Taiwan; they were in a quiet cafe on the corner of the street not so far away from Jimin’s apartment, and it was one of the places you could always sneak out to if you didn’t want attention.

Yoongi and Jungkook had never gone to one of those. There was always a way to keep your secrets, if they would’ve wanted it; but all they did was putting on a show.

Yoongi clinked glasses with Jimin. Downed the shot. It tasted sweet. “How is the funding going?”

“Well,” Jimin munched around the dumpling. “The movie is officially set to be financed and distributed by Jikyun Entertainment now. Taehyung signed the papers the other day.”

Yoongi hummed. It wasn’t that he didn’t see it coming. Mikyung, taking Yoongi’s project under her wing, was not surprising at all. It was just — Yoongi would really prefer if she didn’t intervene. If fucking once in his life she would stay away. 

“Taehyung and Namjoon are digging for the rest of the crew right now,” Jimin continued, splashing little drops of soup everywhere as he spoke in his usual manner, animated and without allowing his limbs to rest. “They have some sort of vision, so I’m not interrupting them. If everything goes well, filming begins in September.”

“Fucking finally,” Yoongi grumbled, and wiped with the napkin at his cheek where half of Jimin’s dumpling had ended up. After slowly folding the napkin and sneaking it under his plate, he finally found the courage to ask, “How much… how much did Mikyung give us?”

Jimin downed his soju shot. “She wouldn’t agree at first. Taehyung then told her he’d need only 10 billion won, and noona gave in.”

“Well, shit,” Yoongi said blankly.

Jimin’s eyes grew even more worried. “Hyung, there’s also another thing…”

“This can’t be happening right now,” Yoongi concluded with an overly enthusiastic smile. “I am clearly misunderstanding something, right?” He grinned even wider. “You want a who in this project?”

“Kim Seokjin,” Namjoon said simply and smiled back at Yoongi — genuine and with dimples.

“Yeah!” Taehyung backed the writer up. “Namjoon said he wrote the screenplay thinking of his voice in the OST.”

They were in one of the company’s conference rooms, supposedly to discuss tomorrow’s auditioning, but instead they were caught up in a sudden epiphany of Namjoon’s; in his idea that one of the most famous idols in South Korea should make an OST for their film. 

Yoongi wanted to tell Namjoon he, too, sometimes fell asleep thinking of waking up to Jungkook’s voice again, as he did in Taiwan, but that it would not be fucking happening because your thoughts did not come true. 

Yoongi was very close to banging his head against the table. “You must be kidding me. Are you aware of how low-budget we are?”

“I’m not really good with numbers,” Taehyung smiled.

“You’ve attended SNU, you really think I’m going to buy your ‘ I am a boo boo the fool’ act? I’m pretty sure you’ve got more points in your maths part of CSAT than I did in the whole thing,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung sighed. “Fuck, you’re smart for someone who only attended high school.”

“You just suck at acting,” Yoongi reassured him kindly. “We can’t do Kim Seokjin. We don’t have money to hire him. And it only can happen in the case he actually wants to participate in the movie.”

“Can’t you contact him?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head. 

“Are you insane? Have you ever met me in one frame with Kim Seokjin?”

“Your name is usually above his on Naver.” Namjoon shrugged. “Why are you speaking of him as if he’s more famous than you? Sunbae is literally the most searched name right now. Or — maybe you are friends with someone who can contact him?”

“I’ve been stuck with you two for the last three months, do I really come across as someone who has friends?” Yoongi spit out. Namjoon’s mouth fell open. “Nevermind,” Yoongi waved him off. 

He hated working with creative people, he really did. They always were in their own bubble. Even though Yoongi was a person of art himself, he tried to be more down-to-earth and believed he was quite successful at that. 

“I don’t have Kim Seokjin’s number nor do I know a person who has it, alright? Forget about him and find someone else. You hired most of your crew from your college acquaintances! Just organise an alumni event for the music department now. And — ” Yoongi bit on his tongue as he saw Jungkook’s shadow passing outside the meeting room. 

Any comprehensive thoughts vanished from Yoongi. 

God knows he was going crazy for this man. He gathered his belongings hastily, not really caring if he was too harsh with shoving his things inside his binder. He felt Namjoon’s and Taehyung’s confused eyes on him, the way they trailed after his hurrying figure. 

“Alright, I think that’s it for today,” Yoongi announced. “I’m gonna go now. Audition tomorrow, at 307B, 12 o’clock, don’t be late!”

“But, hyung — ” Taehyung’s voice reached him when Yoongi was already slamming the door to the conference room shut.

Jungkook was about to round the corner when Yoongi called out for him. 

“Jungkook-ah!” 

Jungkook stilled. And for this one second that Yoongi was facing his back, Yoongi got worried that he had gotten ahead of himself, that he had acted without thinking, too impatiently —

Jungkook turned around, a smile blossoming on his face. “Hyung!” His voice sounded so happy, so relieved , just the way his body usually relaxed under Yoongi’s touch. 

Yoongi scanned him carefully, his grey loose sports and a black t-shirt, as he walked to Jungkook. “Where are you going? To the gym?”

“Yeah.” There seemed to be no moment of hesitation as Jungkook asked, “Walk me?”

“To the gym?” Yoongi snorted. “Sure. Let’s go. I haven’t seen it renovated yet.”

“It opened two weeks ago,” Jungkook said absentmindedly as they picked up the pace. His hand naturally found Yoongi’s, lacing their fingers, and Yoongi really, really tried his best not to focus on Jungkook’s palm burning in his.

Jungkook stalled. “Wait.”  He frowned, and looked at Yoongi with his eyebrows knitted. “Hyung, are you skipping your workouts?”

“No,” Yoongi said quickly. “I am just…busy.”

“I’m busy, and I still manage to lead a healthy lifestyle.”

“You texted me at four a.m. last night.”

“Well, excluding my sleeping schedule,” Jungkook backed off. “In all other ways, I’m the healthiest man alive.”

“Just stop fucking nagging me,” Yoongi sighed, not as sternly as he would’ve liked to. 

“No,” Jungkook grinned, brattish and boyish; leaning into Yoongi’s temple and laughing into Yoongi’s skin. 

A few employees passed them by; they bowed politely to each other, exchanging quiet awkward smiles. Jungkook drew out from Yoongi’s private space. 

“What are you busy with these days?” Yoongi asked. “The filming’s finished. Do you already have another project coming up?”

“Ah, this,” Jungkook laughed, a bit forcedly, and Yoongi’s heart skipped a treacherous beat. Jungkook moved his shoulder. “I have some interesting offers. Not sure if I want to proceed with them. Now I’m mostly busy with the promo for the drama. Today we did interviews and some fun games.”

“You don’t sound like you’ve had fun,” Yoongi said carefully.

“Maybe it was because I didn’t have fun.”

They were standing in front of the frosted glass doors with the letters ‘GYM’ written in the middle; and Jungkook looked lost and. 

Yoongi could let go of Jungkook’s blazing hand and walk away. He could say, ‘Well, it happens’, and walk out. It wasn’t like in their contract there was any term that required emotional support from him. 

Or, he could stay. Could ask — 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Jungkook shook his head. “Not really.”

“Alright.” Yoongi squeezed his fingers for the last time before letting go. His palm felt cold and wrong without Jungkook’s in it. “I’ll go, then. Have a good day. I, um. I’m sorry you didn’t have fun.”

He had turned away already when Jungkook’s fingers caught on the hem of his plaid shirt, interrupting his leaving.

“Can hyung give me a hug?”

Touching. Jungkook needed to lean on someone; he needed someone to hold his weight when it got too heavy. Jungkook was always seeking warmth, always seeking human connection; it seemed like touching was a must for him. He didn’t need Yoongi to reassure him. He needed someone to just be here for him. 

Yoongi whirled back around. 

Jungkook glared at him. Almost like challenging Yoongi. Daring him to do it. 

At the same time, his eyes were so pleading. That was always the case with Jungkook — somehow, he managed to be both soft and unbreakable; both firm and pliant. 

“Okay,” Yoongi said. “C’mere, not baby and not darling and not bunny.”

Jungkook stepped in, curling into Yoongi, and seemed smaller and more fragile because of that. He hid his head into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi embraced him, and stroked his back gently. 

“Why wasn’t it fun, Jungkook-ah?” he asked quietly, brushing Jungkook’s hair. “Tell hyung.”

His body felt itchy and wrong doing this, in the vast corridor of the company’s building, right in front of the door where the employees shuffled back and forth. It was different from the attention he and Jungkook were usually getting. That attention was wanted, but this — it was a moment only between him and Yoongi. 

“You were right,” Jungkook mumbled into his shoulder. “Back in Taipei. You were right. My cast members are assholes. They made me feel so stupid today.”

Yoongi’s stomach dropped. Of course he was right. He knew it, he knew it from the first look at their faces. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I’m sorry I was right. I wish I was wrong.” 

Being correct had never felt so shitty before. 

“Can I do anything else to make you feel better?” Yoongi asked after his last phrase was left unanswered. He patted Jungkook’s back, feeling suffocated in the hug already but still letting Jungkook hold onto him. “Eh? What should hyung do?”

“Stay?” Jungkook said, more question to his voice than actual request. 

“Sure. I can do that.”

So Yoongi stayed. Jungkook worked out, and Yoongi tried getting his mind off all the events that had happened earlier in the day. He told Jungkook about his day, and days that they hadn’t seen each other; about that time his noona complained he hadn’t brought her a souvenir from Taiwan, and about — Kim Namjoon, and his obsession with Kim Seokjin.

“No, but that’s like, crazy! ” Yoongi blabbered. He pointed at himself. “Imagine, we’re sitting there, and this guy goes, ‘Yo, let’s bring Kim Seokjin in our movie’. Kim Seokjin! ” He shook with laughter. “Jungkook-ah, he believes Kim Seokjin would be willing to sing for this movie. Don’t get me wrong, I love this project, but realistically, we can’t even afford him. We can’t even afford me, for that matter!”

Jungkook hummed mockingly as he moved to another exercise. “Yeah, hyung, that’s crazy .” Maybe he wasn’t as interested in Yoongi’s movie as Yoongi was; but Yoongi’s talking was distracting him from the promo interviews, and it was the only thing that mattered at the moment. 

“This is driving me crazy,” Yoongi confessed, rubbing his eyes. He counted the piles of papers again, muttering under his breath as he went, “Crew deal memo, actor deal memo, talent release, background release…”

“Remind me again. Are you the main lead or the producer on the film?” 

Yoongi’s head snapped up from the papers to — Jungkook, hovering in the doorway of yet another meeting room. They weren’t even given out a specific corner in the company, and compromised their production office with whichever conference room wasn’t busy.  

“Lovely night,” Jungkook grinned. 

“As if,” Yoongi scoffed. “How’d you find us?” 

“Luck,” Jungkook said. He flashed a drink carrier in his hands. “I brought coffee.”

“Coffee?” Namjoon lifted his head from the corner of the table he had been napping against for the last twenty minutes. “Oh my god. I love coffee.”

“I know, Namjoon-ssi,” Jungkook chuckled, and passed him one of the cups. He set one near the chair where Taehyung had been located before stepping out of the room for a breather (Yoongi suspected he stress-smoked, but had never caught him on it), handed one to Jimin, and gave the last one to Yoongi. “All ready for the signing day, huh?”

Yoongi shook his head wistfully. 

Jungkook made a pouty face. He was standing near Yoongi’s chair as if he didn’t quite know what to do: to leave now that he’d finished giving out the coffee? To stay for another minute, make small talk and leave? Or to sit down, to stay for real ?

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head. His hand had sneaked to Yoongi’s back and was rubbing a soothing circle in the junction between Yoongi’s neck and spine. “Tell me, hyung.”

He sounded so understanding, as though he was actually concerned and bothered by Yoongi’s problem. 

“I think something’s missing and I can’t figure out what, also we’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of money on an attorney to arrange all of the releases, and now we can’t afford to rent a pavilion and I have no idea how we’re going to work this out, also I can’t seem to make a schedule even for one filming day and it’s just — ” Yoongi sighed. “It’s just tiring. ”

Jungkook stared at him. Not a single word left his mouth. 

Yoongi barked a bitter laugh. “Sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I? It must tire you out. You should go home, Jungkook-ah.” He patted Jungkook’s thigh. “It’s late.”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook protested immediately. He sobered up. His eyes, black pitch, were so — sad. “It’s just — um. I really wish I could — um, I don’t know. Take your problems away. But I—I literally have no idea behind all the paperwork.” He scratched his neck. “Damn, it would be nice to have Bae Ara’s powers by now.”

“Bae Ara’s powers?” Jimin frowned from where he’d been working on weather research.

Bae Ara was one of the inner jokes Yoongi and Jungkook had. They both were so impressed by the runner’s organising abilities and knowledge that at some point, whenever they were stuck with something, they would say Bae Ara’s powers would be really nice to have right now. 

But Bae Ara wasn’t a superhero with a fake identity from comics. 

She was a simple, twenty-something girl who worked in the film industry. She could be found. She could be hired. She could be persuaded into working with Yoongi. 

“Oh my god,” Yoongi said. He jumped to his feet, and cupped Jungkook’s face. “Fucking genius,” he told him, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Love your brain.” Love you, he meant to say. Yoongi grabbed his things. “Alright, everyone, go to sleep, tomorrow by afternoon everything will be under control.”

He pushed past Taehyung in the doorway, who definitely smelled like he’d just stress-smoked ten cigarettes in a row, and gave the director a wide smile, receiving a deep, concerned frown on the other end. 

“Has hyung gone mad?” Taehyung asked, terrorized, pointing at Yoongi’s disappearing figure.

“I’m…not sure,” Jungkook breathed out, his hands lingering on his reddening cheeks. 

She was early. 

Meaning, she was exactly on time.

First came in her neon sneakers, then her fingers tightly clinging to her bag’s strap, then her the same bony structure that hadn’t changed in eight months, and last but not least, her indomitable spirit. She looked around the coffee shop, squinting her eyes at the surroundings, and as she finally spotted Yoongi with his raised hand, a smile blossomed on her face. 

She scratched the opposite chair from where Yoongi had been sitting on the sofa, and plumped down. 

“Ara-ssi.” Yoongi bowed to her. “Hi. Long time no see.”

She bowed back shortly, and waved her hands in a dismissive manner. “Just spill what you have for me. Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

And to think that the same girl stuttered when she had first met Yoongi.

“Won’t even let me order you a coffee? Alright, as you wish.” Yoongi shrugged. He observed Ara carefully, her hair that she’d gotten cut short and into blonde strands, before leaning forward on the small round table and asking, “How’s work going for you these days?”

Ara’s forehead formed two heavy lines. “It’s going…okay.” 

Now that she was next to Yoongi, in a narrow space separating them, Yoongi was hit with her breath. His nose scrunched. “Have you stress-smoked before coming in here, or…?”

“Yes,” Ara said, her chin pinching high. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Having anxiety is not a crime.”

“It’s not. But —”

“Please don’t start on the Girls-Shouldn’t-Smoke talk.”

“Nobody should smoke,” Yoongi huffed. He lounged back in his seat. “Alright, you’re an adult. I’m not saying anything.”

Ara stared at him. Her eyebrow raised slowly. “So…? Did you call me just to ask me how my work is going?”

Yoongi shook his head, smiling. “No, ‘course not. I need your help.”

“Will it be too much if I said ‘I figured’?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Okay.” Ara smirked. “I figured.”

Yoongi really liked her. She was witty, intelligent, and had the sharp organisation skills most of the industry lacked. Despite being all this, Bae Ara was stuck in the junior position of a runner. Not even an assistant. 

It really made Yoongi reflect on talent and luck. 

“I need your help with my movie,” Yoongi said.

“Mhm,” Ara hummed to show that she was listening.

“It’s a project I’m really passionate about.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Actually, all of the crew are really excited about this story. We don’t have a big budget, but we all really want to make this dream come true.”

“I hear you.”

“I want you to be our Production Assistant.”

“Yeah, ok— Wait, what the fuck?” Ara choked on the air. Yoongi helplessly nudged her a glass of water the waiter had placed on their table in prior to his Americano order. “Yoongi-ssi, you can’t just say absurd things out of nowhere!”

“Why absurd?” Yoongi argued. “I really do need you. We are signed under the company, but it won’t provide us with much except money. I tried organising the, um, legal stuff, but I am obviously underqualified for it, and my manager isn’t that great, either. Taehyung-ssi, our director, is clueless. Don’t get me started on our screenwriter.” Yoongi let out a weak laugh. “You have a law degree. I’ve seen you organise a literal ton of papers. You are perfect for this job.”

Ara nodded, slowly. She looked dazed, like she hadn’t quite processed everything Yoongi told her.

“I don’t want you to push into anything,” he continued. “If you’re not interested in this project as much as the rest of the team is, that won’t be fair to us. I hope you understand.”

Yoongi had expected any reaction but for Ara to burst out crying. She cried like children do — purely and out of sheer happiness. 

“ Push me? This is my literal dream to work with you, Yoongi-ssi,” Ara said hoarsely. “I thought I was going delusional. When you called me, my brain couldn’t stop this idea running through me. He’s gonna invite you to work with you. He’s gonna do it. But I — I never… shit, sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t let myself hope too much. Oh my god. How will I explain it to my mom?”

She cried some more, sniffling combined with misbehaved giggling, and Yoongi had no idea how to calm her down. If he even had to do it. Should he just let her cry? He regretted that he hadn’t given their meeting more thought. They should’ve met somewhere more private, not where people could see them.

“It’s, um, it’s a yes, right?” Yoongi asked awkwardly after Ara calmed down by herself and her coffee order, on which Yoongi had insisted, arrived. 

“Yes,” Ara said, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you, what are we talking about?” Yoongi grumbled. He was too tired to fight the grin on his face. “We’ll need to go to sign your contract as soon as possible, and I’ll have you working on the project immediately. That’s okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Ara cut the air with her hand sternly. “I’m more than ready.”

There was a script, a director, a whole cast and a crew of people excited about the film; and now there’d be Bae Ara, the superhero of their industry. They still had to figure out who’d be willing to write an OST for them, but Taehyung had told Yoongi recently that there were some SNU graduates that were interested in composing for the movie. 

Finally, everything was coming together.

The phone went off in Yoongi’s jeans pocket. Someone was calling him.

“Sorry, I need to take it,” Yoongi said. 

Unknown number is calling…

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Is this Min Yoongi?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Kim Seokjin?” A screeching, maybe he laughed in disbelief that his voice wasn’t recognised in an instant. “I was told you were looking for me.”

“Um, sorry — and… who told you that?”

“Jeon Jungkook, who else could it be?”

“Alright,” Ara concluded with a clap of her hands. All of the eyes of a crowded conference room were on her. “I think there’s still one last thing we have left to discuss. Since we can’t afford to rent the filming pavilion now — thank you for that, Mr. Attorney,” she winked at the man.

“My name’s Mr. Lee, Ara-ssi,” the attorney reminded her kindly.

“Yeah, as I said?” She smiled. 

Yoongi snorted quietly. He was sure Ara was flirting with the attorney for the last thirty minutes, and the attorney had been a very hard nut to crack for her charms. 

Ara pointed at the screen behind her. “So, we can’t afford the pavilion. I’ve given it a bit of a thought, and as a location, I suggest we utilise some sort of an abandoned building. I used Min Yoongi-ssi’s,” she gestured with her head at Yoongi who was seated right in front of her, “admission to the company’s database and came up with the list of abandoned schools.” Behind her, the presentation’s slide changed to the respective list. She passed the papers across the table. “If we choose one of those, the price will be much lower, right? Nobody needs an abandoned building, unlike the filming pavilion in high demand, so we’ll be able to rent it out with no problem. It leaves us with coming up with the set inside the building. Where’s a Production Designer?”

A hand flew up in the room. 

Ara pointed at the hand. “Please fill us in how it’ll affect our budget if we build the set using an abandoned school.”

The hand rose to its feet — it was one of Taehyung’s and Namjoon’s alumni. The man started explaining that essentially, there was not much of a difference between building a set in the pavilion and any other building, concluding that he supported the idea of renting out a school. 

“She’s great,” Taehyung whispered into Yoongi’s ear, covering their conversation with his hand. “Where did you find her?”

“I want all supervisors to come up with a specific sum they require for their department,” Ara carried on. “ By tonight. You can contact me anytime. I’m available always if you have any questions or problems. On the sheets I’ve given out to you, there’s my number on the left top corner. When you text me for the first time, include your name and position in your message. For now, the meeting can be considered finished.” She bowed. 

Yoongi barely resisted himself not to applaud. 

That was what he’d been looking for all this time. Someone who would organise the mess of the creative process. 

People started exiting the room. Ara stayed behind; there seemed to appear some executives who were already having their troubles. Yoongi had been thinking about nudging Taehyung to go help her out, but then realised it was pointless. Ara was doing great by herself. 

After finishing with the round of questions, she came up to the front row of the table. Her previously perfect posture slouched into something unrecognisable. Yoongi nodded at her and showed her a thumbs-up. He felt weirdly proud.

Ara glanced at her non-existent watch on her wrist. “Kim Seokjin’s team should arrive in five minutes. Namjoon-ssi, do you have everything ready? To explain the concept?”

“Totally,” Namjoon said. “Something dreamy, but not a ballad. Rough on the surface but actually soft. Not too long but not too short. A bit devastating, but not hopeless. Instrumentals should be there, but, you know, they should be limited to a certain amount.”

“It’s called Bohemian Rhapsody,” Jimin deadpanned, and got a strict mom look from Ara and Taehyung’s elbow in his ribs for that. 

“Great.” Ara fixed the hair strand behind her ear. She looked confident in herself enough; in this scrawny and fragile body of hers that she carried with the brutal force. “Let’s not mess it up. Namjoon-ssi, your explanation is great, but you should also try to stick to the presentation slides I’ve prepared for you.” 

She had been freaking out to Yoongi and jumping around him like a little kid that she was going to see Kim Seokjin in real life even before she attended his first concert for days. It hurt to think what it cost her to keep her professional strict expression on.

The door burst open. Ten pairs of expensive shiny shoes walked; all the suits and business-manners. Yoongi glanced at his phone screen. They were on time. 

“Sorry we’re late. Let’s begin.”

“Jeez, you’re always so official,” the familiar voice resonated in the room. “Those are our friends. Hello.” The voice bowed. “I’m Kim Seokjin.” 

Everybody in the room knew that. 

Seokjin shook hands with Yoongi. “It’s so nice to meet you, Yoongi-ssi. Can we address each other informally?”

What was up with these people appearing in Yoongi’s life out of nowhere and claiming to address each other casually from the very beginning of their relationship? 

“I mean,” Yoongi said, at a loss with the words. “Yeah. Of course. Um.” 

“Hyung,” Seokjin prompted. “You can call me hyung.”

Okay, if there was one thing Yoongi wouldn’t do, it was calling an idol as big as Kim Seokjin was hyung.

“Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi insisted, smiling so politely it hurt, “I really appreciate your help. And I’m really sorry we aren’t able to pay you what you deserve. ”

“I’m not here for the money,” Seokjin said. “You don’t have to worry. I’m gonna help you with your happy ending.” He smiled, patting Yoongi on his shoulder reassuringly, unlike Yoongi who felt his grin sliding off his face. “Trust me on this, Yoongi-yah.”

“Working hard?” 

Five people lifted their heads to see Jungkook leaning his shoulder against the doorjab. He smiled at them all softly, like he was adored by the sight of them. He had his hands crossed over his chest, and that night he, somehow, looked the same way Yoongi had first seen him.

Boy-next-door. Sweet. Weightless. 

“Hypothetically,” Jungkook mused, “if I gave you coffee, would you let me steal your main lead for tonight?”

Yoongi’s heart missed a beat. 

Why would Jungkook need him tonight?

Yoongi tried to recall if Jimin had mentioned anything in his schedule regarding Jungkook. It’d be a low chance that he’d forgotten about something because these days his schedule was almost non-existent, but — he could. The project demanded most of his attention, and things had been easily slipping out of his mind if they weren’t regarding the movie. 

He lifted his eyebrows at Jimin, who was sitting across the table from him. Jimin looked as dumbfounded as Yoongi did. He shook his head, and shifted his attention back to his laptop.

“I really hope it’s not an actual hypothetical question,” Ara said, stretching his arms, “because I’m gonna kill everybody if I don't have coffee right this second.”

Jungkook laughed; genuine high-pitched giggling of his, with the mouth open and the sound escaping him without any resistance. He quickly provided Ara with her coffee.

“Ah, some good shit,” she breathed, taking a first sip. “You’re a lifesaver, oppa.”

“So… can I steal him or not?” Jungkook motioned with his head in Yoongi’s direction. 

“Of course you can. He’s not needed anyway. I have no idea why he’s languishing in here.”

“Yah — ” Yoongi protested but was yanked out of his seat by Jungkook, successfully shutting him up. 

Jungkook wrapped himself around Yoongi, around his very core; his chest against Yoongi’s back, limbs lost together; sighing in relief. Missed you, his body language screamed.

He was such a good actor, Yoongi sometimes believed he loved him. 

“No,” Taehyung protested. “Lovey-dovey. Not cool. Not here. You poison the creative atmosphere.” He gestured to the door with his pen. “Out.”

“Roger,” Jungkook smirked. “Don’t stay up for too long. You’ll be filming soon. You’ll have enough time to take all-nighters.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waved him off, yawning. “Good night.”

Jungkook helped Yoongi to gather his belongings, carefully putting everything together into his bag. Yoongi bowed to the crew, murmuring Thank you for your hard work, as Jungkook tugged his wrist impatiently to the elevators’ direction. 

He pushed the button with a minus level. Yoongi rested his head against the mirror. His eyes felt so heavy, he was barely keeping them open. 

“Where am I being kidnapped to?” he murmured.

“To bed.”

“Um — ”

“ To sleep! ” Jungkook added, hysterically quick. “I mean — not. In any. Sexual way. Just — to rest.” 

Yoongi commanded his heart to stop beating so fast. He tried retraining the calm, nonchalant expression on his face. “Thank you,” he pushed out. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

These words were not enough for expressing the gratitude he felt towards Jungkook. He owed this man almost his everything. 

“And for Kim Seokjin, too.”

Jungkook perked up. “Oh, you know about it?” Yoongi couldn’t tell if it was a good kind of surprise or not. If Jungkook wanted to stay incognito, or if he wanted Yoongi to know.

“He was the one who told me.”

“Ah.”

Maybe there was something else Jungkook wanted to add to his words — but the elevator beeped open, and the car was meeting them right out of it. Yoongi tiredly climbed into the vehicle, Jungkook sliding inside after him. They couldn’t talk about the project with the driver’s presence, so they both just kept shut and watched the night city out of their windows.

Yoongi’s right knee was brushing against Jungkook’s left, and this little spot of warmth was the only thing Yoongi could be thinking about for the whole ride. 

There were no more blinding camera flashes in front of them as they stumbled out of the car. He and Jungkook weren’t the hottest article anymore; and the reporters must’ve gotten tired of them. Yoongi had his suspicions that Mikyung would be sending them to some reality show really soon. They had to mud the water again. Maybe even a scandal would be nice in her opinion.

At Jungkook’s apartment, Yoongi kicked his boots off, sneaked into the slippers Jungkook had bought specifically for him, and strolled to the kitchen. 

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled, rummaging through the fridge. “Do you have tangerines?”

“Yep,” Jungkook replied from his bedroom. He must’ve been changing into more comfortable clothes. “Try looking on the table.”

“Can't hear you?”

“Try looking on the table!”

“Still can’t hear you?” Yoongi raised his voice. 

“Try — looking — on — the — table!” Jungkook patiently repeated. 

Yoongi scoffed, and paddled to the table. His stomach flipped happily at the sight of the promising hill of fruit. He took one, rolled it on the table, then peeled it and sent half of the whole thing into his mouth. 

“Nobody is taking them away from you,” Jungkook said. He had come out from the bedroom looking even sweeter and more weightless. He opened his mouth. “Give me one.” 

“Is that what you call ‘nobody is taking them away from you’?” Yoongi grumbled, pushing a piece of tangerine into Jungkook’s mouth. 

Jungkook gave him a grin, the one where his nose scrunched in achieved brattiness, and chewed loudly. Yoongi leaned with his back against the table’s surface. 

He began peeling another tangerine, focusing on his fingers fighting against the fruit’s skin. “Be honest. How did you do it?”

Jungkook tilted his head in confusion. “Did what?”

“Kim Seokjin. How did you do it?”

“Ah, this.” Jungkook shifted his weight from one leg to another. Yoongi fed him another piece of tangerine, and ate one himself. “PD-nim,” Jungkook said. “I told him you needed his help. He said he knows one actress who knows this idol who knows Kim Seokjin, and it…happened, I guess.”

“But what did you tell him?”

“The truth?” Jungkook asked, smiling dumbfoundedly. “I told him you were trying to create your happy ending. Well, also, apparently he’s like, your biggest fanboy or something, but I really think my happy ending speech made it for him.”

Yoongi barked a laugh; unaware of what to do with the feeling of this — lightness. He’d never felt this happy before. This unconditionally, unabatedly happy. 

At the same time, he’d never felt calmer. He’d never felt himself so deserving of existence until this quiet evening in Jungkook's kitchen as he rested his body against the table, peeled tangerines, and had a chat with Jungkook while Jungkook stood next to him, looking at him so kindly and gently, and ate from Yoongi’s hands. 

A hurricane of emotions battled in his chest. “I really don’t know how to thank you,” he said earnestly. 

A missed beat. 

“You can kiss me again.” 

Jungkook said it on the faltering key. You didn’t speak like this when acting — you spoke like this in real life, with the words said too early or too late, with the wrong but all so natural way your eyes skimmed over the person, betraying and conceiving emotions at once. 

“Actually, nevermind. I promised you it wouldn’t be — ”

Yoongi yanked him down, connecting their lips. 

Fuck not being friends with benefits. Fuck it. 

Yoongi’s fingers were sticky of tangerines’ juice as they hovered on Jungkook’s jaw. Jungkook’s body jerked forward, crashing Yoongi into the table with force. He kissed him just like he did the first time — impatiently and hurriedly; like Yoongi would disappear in the next second and so Jungkook tried to make up for all the time they wouldn’t be able to have. He kissed him with his hands on Yoongi’s hips, then on Yoongi’s waist, then on Yoongi’s ribs, his palm over Yoongi’s heart, counting the beats. 

They had exchanged what felt like hundreds of kisses that night in Taipei, and Jungkook still touched him and kissed him like he wasn’t tired of Yoongi at all. 

“You taste sweet,” Jungkook murmured as he withdrew.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Duh. I just ate tons of tangerines.”

Jungkook’s thumb hovered over Yoongi’s eyebrow. Yoongi had come to love this motion; the way Jungkook's finger would slide over his eyebrow. This time, it went lower, to Yoongi’s chin, irritating the skin. “Also, why didn’t you shave?”

It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t shave in weeks. And it wasn’t even that Yoongi had this much stubble on his face. His beard barely grew. But it did, even if it was little; the opposite of Jungkook’s — he always had his face smooth and clean; barely allowing dark dots to ruin the look. 

“Too caught up in the project. Was too busy to shave. I think.”

“You think.” Jungkook quirked his eyebrow.

Yoongi could’ve mocked him like he usually would do, but it really felt like the atmosphere and Jungkook’s eyes on him required something else.

Yoongi gave in. “I’m sorry,” he said after inspecting Jungkook’s face. He caressed his cheek. “Aw, your skin got a bit red.”

“It hurts a bit,” Jungkook agreed with a pout. 

“I’d suggest I kiss it better, but — ”

“No,” Jungkook hurried to say. “No, you should totally kiss it better.” 

Yoongi brought him down again, skimmed his cheeks and forehead and eyelids with his lips, pecked him in the corners of his mouth to get rid of the pout. Jungkook tried catching Yoongi’s bottom lip to deepen the kiss, and Yoongi successfully avoided it each time with a lingering smirk.

His stomach dropped when Jungkook pushed out a broken, “Please.”

And then, “Please, please, please.” 

Immediately, Yoongi gave in to the kiss, let Jungkook push past into his mouth, lick and burn inside. He tasted sweet, too; tasted like acting, the rush of excitement of it. 

“Please, please, please, to the bedroom?”

“You said there’d be no sexual activity involved.”

“I lied,” Jungkook breathed. 

Yoongi laughed into his mouth, catching Jungkook’s giggling into his neck in return. It tickled, his breathing too cold on Yoongi’s heated up skin. They moved for the bedroom. Somewhere in the middle of it, Jungkook had stripped Yoongi out of half of his clothes, left a love bite on Yoongi’s collarbone, and kissed the soul out of him.

“Can I ride you?” he whispered into Yoongi’s ear, effectively punching out the remaining air out of Yoongi’s lungs.

“Why do you have such a dirty mouth?” Yoongi muttered, helplessly fighting against the red creeping to his cheeks. 

“How is discussing sex positions dirty?” Jungkook deadpanned. He pointed to the bathroom. “Also, go wash your hands. They’re sticky with juice. Maybe shave while you’re at it.”

Yoongi had no energy to argue with him so he obediently proceeded to the restroom. He ran the water over his fingers, decided against shaving as the impatient longing battled through his body, and crawled back to Jungkook.

By that time, Jungkook had gotten rid of half of his clothes. He sat at the edge of the bed with a lost look on his face. Yoongi considered asking what was wrong, but the moment Jungkook saw him coming back, a smile blossomed over his features, and Yoongi didn’t have the heart to ruin the moment. 

“What’s this?” Jungkook asked when he noticed a wet towel in Yoongi’s hands. 

Yoongi wordlessly bent to him and wiped off the clammy fingertips he had left on Jungkook’s face. He tried doing it gently.

He thought he succeeded.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide with awe. Or surprise. Or shock. Or something else.

“Good?” Yoongi whispered as he finished.

Jungkook threw the towel away from his hands, and tugged him onto the mattress. He kissed him breathlessly.

“Why are you just so fucking — ” he mumbled under his breath, and sounded mad and amazed at the same time. Yoongi wanted to ask him to continue the phrase, but was interrupted by Jungkook nibbing into his neck, and no comprehensible words left his mouth. Jungkook’s fingers tightened in his hair. “I am so riding you, and there’s nothing about your permission anymore.”

Yoongi laughed, and felt Jungkook’s cackling reflecting somewhere deep into his ribcage, as if this sound had made a home out of Yoongi’s body. 

[ara-yah] [04:31 a.m.] We need 14.7 billion won.

[Yoongi-oppa] [04:39 a.m.] we don’t have 14.7 billion won

[ara-yah] [04:40 a.m.] What the fuck can I do? 10 billion is just a teardrop. We can only last 4 weeks with that.

Yoongi scoffed. Jungkook stirred next to him, his back shuddering.

“Hyung?” Jungkook murmured, blindly searching for him with his hand.

Yoongi squeezed his fingers, and leaned down to kiss his shoulder.  “Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

[Yoongi-oppa] [04:41 a.m.] fuck, okay. i’ll come up with something. you don’t have to worry. 

[Yoongi-oppa] [04:42 a.m.] for now, go to sleep, ara-yah. it’s late.

This was bound to happen. It was inevitable, sort of. 

Each time Yoongi bypassed the company’s gates, he was aware that this meeting was getting closer and closer. Maybe he wanted it to happen. Maybe he waited for this. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he had invented this longing in him, exactly the same way he had fantasised about where their whole relationship stood.

Yoongi had stumbled into Jungkook in the elevator. They had exchanged private smiles, the secrets behind them. Yoongi had asked where he was going, and Jungkook had asked if Yoongi was too busy to walk him to the gym. 

Yoongi decided he could allow himself a little detour from his destination. Jungkook pressed a smile into his mouth for that, and Yoongi felt like it was all worth it. They got off the elevator, and Jungkook’s hand naturally fitted itself in Yoongi’s. He complained about his greasy hair, and Yoongi sacrificed his baseball cap for him. 

“Don’t forget to return it to me, alright?” he grinned.

“Alrighty,” Jungkook grinned back. 

She was exiting the gym, a man by her side, when Yoongi’s hand reached out to open the door for Jungkook. Her eyes stilled on his; and they both held a look of surprise on their faces for a long second before they got their expressions under control.

Yoongi’s badge with ‘VISITOR’ looked so pathetic next to her ‘ARTIST’. 

Yoongi stepped back, letting her exit. 

“Yoongi-yah, you should’ve grown out of your fake dating habits by now. We’re way too old for this,” was the first thing she told him after five years of silence. 

Yoongi wanted to tell her that they both were still in their twenties.

Yoongi wanted to tell her that it was never fake for him, not with her. 

Yoongi wanted to tell her she broke his heart, and he was okay with it. (He wasn’t).

“What does noona mean?” Jungkook’s voice, sweet and gentle, filled the corridor. He blinked at Nabi.

Yoongi had forgotten Jungkook was still here with him. For a moment, his existence had narrowed down to Nabi; his whole life dedicated to her, to make her happy, to make her content . She was his first love and Yoongi doubted he’d ever outgrown that — but as he looked at her, nothing but unnerving emptiness inside, he realised that he did. 

Nabi rolled her eyes. “Jungkook-ah, please, no one in the industry buys the bullshit Mikyung is trying to sell anymore.”

“I’m aware,” Jungkook nodded. “I just can’t understand why you think you can tell to my face that my feelings for hyung are fake.” He tilted his head. “Oh my god, is noona unavailable to love? Does she even love the man whose hand she’s holding right now?”

“Do you love the man whose hand you’re holding right now?” Nabi countered, and made it loud and clear she didn’t love the man by her side. Yoongi recognized him as Choi Shiwon; the promising gay actor in closet.

Well, it was just sad. 

Yoongi and Nabi both were deeply hurt by their fake relationship, swore they wouldn’t do it ever again, and here they were. Mikyung did them dirty. She outplayed both of them. 

Now that the initial shock and resistance decreased, Yoongi wanted to ask Nabi how she had been. If everything had been okay for her. If her father had stopped drinking. If her brother had enrolled into the university he had dreamed about.

Why wasn’t a single word leaving his mouth? 

“Of course I do,” Jungkook said, and it was let out of his mouth so weightlessly, but at the same time with purpose; just the way he spoke and moved and lived; that even Yoongi for a moment believed Jungkook loved him. “Of course I love Yoongi-hyung.” 

He talked about love the same way kids do; sincerely and without having a room to doubt the statement. 

Nabi pursed her lips. “Okay.” She moved her eyes to Yoongi, and suddenly she seemed softer and less defensive. “If it’s true, I do congratulate you. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused back then.” 

“It’s okay,” Yoongi croaked, finally, even though it wasn’t okay. “I’m happy now,” he said, and it was true. “Thank you,” he lied again. There was nothing to thank Nabi for. “We should get dinner together sometimes.”

He tensed the way Jungkook’s body went numb at his last words. 

“Sure.” Nabi smiled, and the whole world turned kinder and brighter. Dear God, Yoongi used to love her so much. “We can do that. I’ll apologise one more time. You’ll tell me more about your love. Jungkook can hold your hand and get defensive if I say something wrong.”

“It’ll be great,” Yoongi said. “Three of us are going to make a pretty good article. What do you say, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook’s body relaxed seemingly. Maybe he had worried that Yoongi wouldn’t take him to dinner with Nabi? The scandals this shenanigan might’ve caused? But Yoongi would never sabotage their contract like that.

Besides, why would he ever get dinner with Nabi without Jungkook?

“I’m always up for free food,” Jungkook said.

Nabi laughed. “Remind me again, how much younger you are than Yoongi?”

“Younger enough to never have paid for myself,” Jungkook smiled. 

Choi Shiwon cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. He tugged on Nabi’s elbow. “I think we should go, noona.”

Nabi scowled at him — maybe they didn’t get along, or maybe it was her brattish act for her noona romance. She let out an apologetic bow to Yoongi and Jungkook, and just like that, Choi Shiwon and she were gone. 

“Woah. I had no idea you fake dated Kim Nabi.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I was sixteen when you and her got together, and was left heartbroken when you broke up. You two like, set up my expectations for romantic relationships so high.”

Yoongi had completely forgotten about that. Their age gap was not so prominent now that Jungkook was entering his mid-twenties; but — Jungkook was eighteen and just discovering the world when Yoongi was twenty-two and completely in love with the idea of life. Head over heels for Nabi. 

They were the It couple. South Korea mourned when they broke up.

Yoongi pretty much felt dead, too. 

“It’s a conversation for another time,” Yoongi said, “but maybe because it was fake that you enjoyed it so much. No real relationship can be as perfect as mine and Nabi’s was.”

“Like ours?” Jungkook asked out of nowhere, probably referring to his and Yoongi’s fights and never-ending clashings. 

Yoongi had never had a single fight with Nabi except their breakup. And even then, it felt like he was the only one fighting. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Yoongi said. He sighed tiredly, and looked at Jungkook for the last time. “I should go now. Have a good day, alright?”

Jungkook smiled. “Okay. You, too. Fighting, hyung!”

Yoongi winked at him playfully, squeezed his fingers, and turned away, afraid that if he wouldn’t force himself to go now, he’d just stay here forever, in the safe bubble of Jungkook. 

The mere thought of what he was about to do had him gagging, stomach shrinking. 

But he had to do it.

For the sake of his happy ending, he had to do it.

He pushed on the button to the highest level of the building. He bowed to the secretary on his way. He invited himself to Mikyung’s office.

“I need 14.7 billion for the film,” he told her. “Taehyung was being unreasonable with numbers.”

“I gave him what he asked of me,” Mikyung said calmly. She didn’t bat an eye that Yoongi had barged into her office. 

“Now I’m asking you for an additional four point seven billion of won. It’s still not that much.”

Mikyung hummed. She lowered her gaze to the papers she’d been studying before Yoongi’s arrival. Yoongi felt like a scolded child as he stood in front of her desk, begging for pocket money.

“I can give you 13.5 billion,” Mikyung answered, finally. “No more.”

“Why are you being so petty with a 1.2 billion?” Yoongi argued. 

“Yoongi-yah. Accept it, or let’s not waste each other’s time. I’m quite busy, if you can’t see.”

Yoongi exhaled in frustration. “Fourteen point seven.”

He could feel Mikyung swaying. It was the least she could do, right? After everything Yoongi had done for her? 

“My answer is no. If you don’t agree to this, I will announce the project closed.”

A punch into Yoongi’s stomach. A hand, ripping out Yoongi’s heart. 

He was so close to his happy ending. He had almost tamed it. 

“Why?” Yoongi asked. He was surprised at himself, at how calm he managed to sound, albeit seeing red and blue — so much blue in front of him. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I can’t.”

“You can! You have money for it! You have the power. You can make it happen. You just don’t want it. ”

“Yoongi-yah — ” Mikyung started with the soft smile on her lips. She had reached out to him; Yoongi thought he had jerked away. 

“Why do you pretend so hard not to care about me? You’re always going beyond and further for your other actors, but not for me.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so much about a happy ending. 

Maybe it had never been about the damn happy ending. 

Mikyung rose from her swivel chair. She didn’t gain height over Yoongi with that, but there was something about her towering that reminded Yoongi of his teenage days. “Watch the way you talk. Don’t forget yourself here,” Mikyung said harshly. “I’m not a mother to you. I’m not a mentor.”

Yoongi laughed. It sounded so bitter. “You’re just my first agent, yeah. Nothing else. Why does Jiwoo-noona call me every Sunday to ask how I am, then? Why does she keep sending me food? She wants to see me. You don’t let her.”

Mikyung’s mouth hung open. She collected herself quickly. “She’s just a bit attached to you —”

“Did you know she offered me money? When she learned that my film needed it, she offered me her money.” 

“Okay, yes, she’s overly attached to you, but — ”

“Is it a bad thing? Is it a bad thing that she loves me?” He didn’t let Mikyung answer. He pushed. “She’s by your side for decades. Literal decades. You don’t let her love you either. Same-sex marriage is legalized, and you still can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re in love with a woman, and that I’ve been your son for as long as I remember.”

Mikyung was glaring at him, heavily and tiredly. Yoongi was glaring at her with the same expression. 

He was raised by her, after all. She used to be his favourite person. He was her reflection in the mirror. Sometimes, when he did interviews, reporters would say that he looked a lot like his agent; and Yoongi would just laugh it away. 

“Okay, you know what?” Yoongi said. “I’m going to pull out the ‘I-didn’t-ask-to-be-born’ card.” 

He was acting so childish. He should’ve walked away. 

Too bad it was so late. The rage, a rare real emotion in him, flowed through him the way acting usually did. “ I didn’t ask you to help me, noona. I didn’t ask! I didn’t beg! I was just fine on my own! You took me in, and now you’re saying I’m, what? I’m indebted to you for that? You gave me dinner! Jiwoo washed my school uniform! You tucked me to sleep! How is raising a child a debt?” He narrowed his eyes at Mikyung. “Well, if I had any choice in this, I’d say go to hell with your motherfucking debt. Better to be an orphan than to be raised by you.” 

Any emotion. Yoongi just wanted to draw out any emotion he could from her.

Mikyung’s eyes were sharp and cold. “I’m sorry, Yoongi-yah,” was all she said. “I can’t give you your happy ending.” 

“Alright,” Yoongi said. He bowed, embarrassingly low, to the point where his knees touched the floor. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Tell noona I said hi.”

He turned away, and was met with Jungkook’s shadow in the doorway, the secretary hovering behind his back. He looked lost. 

Yoongi would have cared if he wasn’t such a wreck right now himself. 

“Noona?” Jungkook croaked, voice barely found. He watched Yoongi push past him. “ — Hyung? You forgot your cap…” 

Yoongi wondered why he would talk about a fucking baseball cap right now.  

“Hyung,” Jungkook repeated, broken. He tried catching on Yoongi’s sleeve but didn’t succeed. 

Fake mother. Fake ex-girlfriend. Yoongi didn’t need the fake love of his life now. 

BREAKING NEWS! Jeon Jungkook (‘My Youth’ (2021), ‘Trial’ (2020)) terminated his contract with JIKYUN ENTERTAINMENT. He will have to pay a restitution. 

[+3,321] [-4,775] I am an intern in Jikyun Ent. Saw Jeon Jungkook today completely destroying the boss’ office. He sounded soo mad and couldn’t stop shouting. He’s usually such a sweetheart, I wonder what happened…

@FilmsUpdatesKorea: Please don’t spread false rumours about Jungkook. Let’s wait for the official statement. 

The news came in around six p.m. 

Yoongi had been laying on his couch, staring at the ceiling and rethinking all of his life choices. Kim Namjoon’s scripts were still on the coffee table. On the left side of them, the scripts Jungkook had received and left behind in Yoongi’s home.

How did he slip in Yoongi’s mundane life so easily, Yoongi wondered? 

How much did he overhear, Yoongi wondered?

How did Yoongi manage to fall in love with the person he was supposed to fake a relationship with, Yoongi wondered?

His phone chimed in with a new notification. Yoongi grabbed it. He squinted his eyes at Jimin’s text for him. 

The information didn’t get through him at first. It took him two times for the news to settle. 

Yoongi’s heart leaped into his throat as he skipped through articles, again this gagging feeling. He thought he’d throw up. He sat up on the couch. His chest was a white noise.

Everything was going to pieces. Yoongi didn’t want — that when he barged in to Mikyung’s office. He wanted to secure the funding. He wanted his mom’s love. 

What now? 

His hands were shaking as he dialed Jungkook. He’d been afraid Jungkook wouldn’t pick up, but the call came through at the first seconds. 

“Hello?” Yoongi said. 

“Hyung — ” Jungkook breathed. 

“Jungkook, what the hell? What did you do? ”

“Hyung, this is just fucked up. This is not right. What noona told you. This wasn’t right.”

“Jungkook-ah, I know, I know it’s not right. It doesn’t mean you had to get involved. It was between me and noona.”

Yoongi heard Jungkook sniffling on the other line. There were car honks, road noises, a blinker going off.

“Where are you now?” Yoongi asked carefully. 

“I’m…driving to you.”

“Okay. Good. That’s where you need to be going.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Jungkook said, sniffling again. A loud cry escaped him suddenly, to the point where Yoongi got worried that Jungkook definitely shouldn’t be driving in this state. “No,” Jungkook repeated. “Just — angry. A bit sad. No, actually, scratch that. Big time sad.”

Yoongi barked a laugh, and felt like his heart was about to tear his throat open. “Don’t be sad. I’m sure another company will steal you right away.”

“No, I’m not sad about this shitty contract. I’m sad about you. I’m sad for you. I’m sad life wasn’t kind to you.”

“You’re kind to me,” Yoongi reminded. “Jimin, sometimes. The team for the movie is kind to me. That’s enough.”

“That’s not, though,” Jungkook said, so softly, and Yoongi felt like all the emotions he had never allowed himself to feel were suddenly erupting in Jungkook. “I’m so sad that I think I’m gonna be sick. It’s just so unfair. And I can’t even give you your motherfucking happy ending.” 

“It’s okay,” Yoongi said. “We’ve done so much so far, have had to overcome so many obstacles for this film to come true that now I think… it’s just not meant to be. And I’m at peace with that.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook’s voice cracked. 

“My heart is at peace, knowing,” Yoongi said, and placed his palm on his heart, massaging this little restless thing, hoping that it’d stop hurting one day, “that what is meant for me will never miss me,” he closed his eyes, breathing out the last words, “and what is not meant for me will never be mine. ”

[WORK GROUP CHAT]

[Min Yoongi] [06:42 p.m.] i’m so sorry. the project’s closed.

[Kim Taehyung] [06:43 p.m.] Pffft, we’ll find a way!

[Bae Ara] [06:43 p.m.] Yeah! HAPPY ENDING WILL BE HAPPENING! 

[Kim Namjoon] [06:44 p.m.] hyung, just hang in there. we’ve done so far. we’re not giving up. you have so many people by your side who support you. :)

[Kim Taehyung] [06:45 p.m.] Where are you, Namjoon-hyung, by the way? I’ve seen you leaving the office???

[Bae Ara] [06:45 p.m.] Please text in your private messages.

“Please don’t fuck the sadness out of me,” Yoongi laughed once Jungkook attacked him with kisses the next second he had stepped into his apartment. 

“I would never,” Jungkook said against the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “Those are emotional support kisses. Have never received those before?”

If Yoongi would’ve said No, what would Jungkook do?

“I believe I’m not the one who terminated the contract with their management today,” Yoongi grumbled. He distanced them, and made Jungkook look at him. “Do you even have the money to pay for restitution ?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook said, averting eye contact. 

It didn’t sound promising. 

“I’ll pitch-in,” Yoongi promised him, then, and at this moment knew very well that he was going to pay the full sum. Restitution had been a burden for him five years ago, something he had to draw out an actual debt for, and he was not going to let Jungkook go through it alone. “You and I are together in this, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyes lit up. He nodded enthusiastically, and the corners of his lips leaped up a little bit.

He could smile even at times as dark as those. Yoongi loved that about Jungkook, the way he smiled and laughed easily, always on an early start with his grins. You’d tell him, ‘Wanna hear a joke?’, and find him already smiling and laughing even before he listened to the joke itself. 

“And you should find another management company quickly, alright? They should take care of your case.”

“Okay,” Jungkook said. “We’re going to be alright, hyung. You and I.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too. I know what I’m doing.”

Jungkook’s thumb slid over Yoongi’s eyebrow. Yoongi blamed it on Pavlovian response as he felt his heart giving in and calming down at Jungkook’s motion.

“Okay, but also — ”

Jungkook caught Yoongi’s lips, efficiently cutting him off. His fingers tightened on Yoongi’s jaw as he kissed Yoongi full of feelings, not holding anything back. Yoongi’s hands ghosted over Jungkook’s, and he pressed all of him into Jungkook. 

Jungkook kissed him so sadly. Yoongi believed he kissed Jungkook back twice as sadly. There were so many things in this world he wanted to be his, but yet they seemed simply not meant to be. 

When Yoongi woke up, the other side of his bed was occupied by Jungkook. 

Nabi had complained to Yoongi before that he was like a heated mattress pad at night, and didn’t like to share a bed with him, even though Yoongi folded all into himself when he slept, and his breathing could barely be audible. What would she say about Jungkook, if she learned that he slept heavily and soundly; on his stomach, and radiated so much heat at night that Yoongi felt suffocated? 

He and Jungkook had shared a bed in Taipei — back then, they both kept their polite distance and slept with their backs turned to each other, too scared to touch; so it was an entirely new experience, to have Jungkook so unprotectedly close to himself. 

Yoongi reminded himself not to get used to it. In the future, it’d hurt less that way. 

He got used to the thought of his happy ending, and look where he was now. 

It really was over. Yoongi tried searching for any emotion inside of him, but all he felt was weird emptiness. His movie production went to hell. He’d never had a single real human connection in his entire life. 

On the nightstand, his phone rang. Yoongi groaned quietly. He contemplated between picking up the phone and going back to his sulking thoughts.

Did he actually want to face the world today?

“Pick up the fuckin’ phone before I kill you,” Jungkook murmured into the pillow, and turned onto his other side. 

Yoongi pretended he was asleep. The phone kept going off. God, whoever the caller might be, they were annoyingly persistent. 

“Why can I still hear it ringing?” Jungkook raised his voice, and elbowed Yoongi into his ribs. 

Fuck, it hurt. Yoongi blindly found the phone on the nightstand, and put it against his ear.

“Min Yoongi is listening.”

“Hyung!” Taehyung screamed into the speaker, too hyped for eight in the morning. Yoongi cringed. “Someone named Jung Hoseok just transferred eighteen billion won to the film’s bank account and said that if it’s not enough, I should just contact him again!”

“What the fuck?” Yoongi was fully awake now. He staggered to sit up straighter. “Maybe he confused you with someone else. Send the money back.”

“No, hyung! His message said, For a happy ending we’ve all deserved. ”

BREAKING NEWS! Jeon Jungkook is now signed under J-HOPE Management. 

@FilmUpdatesKorea: Min Yoongi is reported to pay Jeon Jungkook’s restitution in cash. 

[+11,994] [-421] YALL I DONT BELIEVE ITS FAKE ANYMORE. You don’t pay for your publicity stunt THAT amount of money. And I’m still very suspicious about everything that had happened with contract termination in the first place. Something doesn’t add up. 

“No panicking today, alright?” Jungkook smiled. 

He had initially aimed for sliding his thumb over Yoongi’s eyebrow, but the makeup artist scolded him for that; and he withdrew immediately, not used to the chastised tone, settling on the reassuring words instead.

“Hold my hand,” Yoongi demanded. 

“Gladly.”

To tell the truth, Yoongi wasn’t panicking for himself. He was strained, panicked and stressed for Jungkook. His big break had paid off, and that night they were both attending the awards show for TV series. 

Jungkook had said he didn’t hope for anything but Yoongi heard him rehearsing the acceptance speech in the shower, and that alone spoke louder than any of Jungkook’s antics. 

If Yoongi was to take the place of their main editor (instead of Yoon Rowan, great guy), his montage of the past four months would look like this:

Apparently, bypassing all the legal restrictions, a goody two-shoes Kim Namjoon delivered the copy of script to Jung Hoseok, the CEO of J-HOPE Management, to see if the company would fund the film instead of Jikyun Entertainment. Jung Hoseok and the Director Board loved the script so much that they suggested even more money than Kim Namjoon had asked them for. 

Still, it didn’t sit right with Yoongi. Kim Namjoon was not someone to take the risk this big. 

When he learned that Jungkook was now signed under J-HOPE Management, the puzzle was completed. He really wanted to make a scene but all he could feel was relief and love, so much love.

So he let it go. (Maybe it took Jungkook one heated make-out session on the couch, but Yoongi let it slide, too). 

The set was built in five seconds in the montage. In reality it took three weeks. Once the set was built, the filming started. Yoongi grew busy. He’d been busy before; but now it was a familiar kind of busy. Long days of shooting, laughter with the director; ad-libs, drinks and grilled ribs with co-stars after midnight. 

Yoongi’s favourite nights were, however, when he, Kim Taehyung and Kim Namjoon would abandon everyone and slip into the quiet cafe and reminisce the way everything had started. 

(Yoongi caught Taehyung sharing a cigarette with Ara behind the school once.

“Knew it,” Yoongi said.

“Shut it,” Taehyung tutted, and Ara laughed so brightly that life felt complete.)

Jungkook visited a couple of times, bringing light and laughter and smiles to the set. He was known by everyone there, and knew all the crew staff by names. Being fond of Jungkook was inevitable. He never lost his boy-next-door charm, and more often than not Yoongi would get asked questions like when Jungkook was visiting again. Unfortunately, he couldn’t visit much — he had returned to the second season of his big break drama, and was booked everywhere.

The filming for Yoongi’s movie was finished in eight weeks. They had a huge celebration, and Yoongi and Taehyung cried on each other’s shoulders and couldn’t stop hugging and thanking each other. Taehyung had a long way to go with the film — now he’d have to edit it; but Yoongi was sailing off at this point.

“Where to next, captain?” Jimin had teased when he picked Yoongi up from the wrapping party.

“Let’s return to our Scorsese movies,” Yoongi had smiled. He let his head rest against the cold leather of the car, and closed his eyes. “Do you know if Jungkook is busy? Drive me to him if he’s not, please.”

“I doubt if he’ll ever be busy for you,” Jimin had murmured. 

Yoongi had thought about asking what he meant, but was so drunk and tired that fell asleep and woke up only next morning to Jungkook staring at him. 

“Good morning,” he had whispered, smiling softly at Yoongi. “Had fun last night?”

“Missed you,” Yoongi had admitted. “Wasn’t as fun as it could be with you.”

So, here was the joke: Yoongi had come to love Jungkook so much that it began to hurt. It was a familiar feeling. It was something that had happened to him before, and it was scary. 

At first, he counted months. Then weeks. Then days. He had spiralled into thinking that Jungkook would be waving his hand at Yoongi soon; Thank you, hyung, for a year and three months of my life!

He had spiralled so much that at some point, he couldn’t have stopped himself and blurted, “I think we should renew the contract.”

It was a morning where both of them had their day off, they were sharing a cup of coffee and lazy kisses here and there, and Yoongi just — he didn’t want to let that go.

He watched a shadow of some emotion crossing Jungkook’s face. Then, Jungkook quickly got a hold of himself and said, “Okay. Sure.” As if to seal the deal, he kissed Yoongi, all kinds of tenderly.

It was enough. 

Until it wasn’t.  

Until — 

“I love you,” Jungkook told him from the stage, a trophy gleaming into his hands. “I love you, Min Yoongi. Thank you for this year.”

“I love you back,” Yoongi mouthed at him from where he was sitting, perfectly aware of the camera being shoved into his face. 

He had been doing this for his whole life, but it hurt so fucking much that time. His chest wanted to explode, but he made himself smile fondly at Jungkook on the stage. Jungkook grinned at him and waved. Yoongi waved back.

That was why they paid him so much. He was an excellent actor. A spectacular one. One of a kind. 

Why did he want to cry so badly when Jungkook returned from the stage and pulled Yoongi into the kiss right in front of all the people cheering for them? Jungkook licked into him, tasting like victory, like winning, like Best Supporting Actor; and the arena died in excited cheering for them. 

“I love you,” Jungkook whispered into his mouth. “I love you so much, do you hear me?”

“I do,” Yoongi murmured. “I love you back.”

He thought he’d explode right there, vomit all of his feelings out. But he managed to contain himself to the AD break for the awards. Then, he excused himself and Jimin, braving his heart for ignoring the lost puppy look Jungkook sent them, and dragged Jimin to the makeup room that was located behind the stage.

“I’m in love with him,” Yoongi blurted as he shut the door after them. 

“...I know,” Jimin said carefully. 

“No! I’m, like, so disgustingly in love with him I don’t even know where to put myself anymore!” 

“Hyung, I know. ”

Yoongi pointed at himself with his two hands. “What is it that is so wrong with my heart that I keep loving people I’m not supposed to love?”

A look of a dog. Both annoyed and sad. “Hyung.”

“No, Jimin-ah, you don’t understand! I am in love with him, and it hurts, and I think I’ve been in love with him almost from the beginning? Isn’t that just crazy?”

“Hyung.”

“Jimin, he’s just — weightless. And I always feel burdening and heavy, and, I don’t know, maybe — maybe with him I feel a bit weightless, too. I really like that feeling. I like who I am with him.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“No-no-no, because he made me read Namjoon’s scripts, and he scolded me when I ran away from Taehyung, and he persuaded Seokjin into our project, and he found Jung Hoseok, and he fucking terminated his contract with Mikyung, and he just — ” Yoongi buried his face in his hands. “He, despite being all this, not mine .”

“Min Yoongi, how dare you confess all of this to Jimin and not me?”

Jungkook.

Yoongi’s hands slid off his face. He turned around, horror in every atom of his body. 

Jungkook’s eyes were red and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He wiped at them with his blazer’s sleeve, harsh and annoyed; and it left traces of his makeup behind on his suit.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Jungkook asked, voice broken. “Why?”

Because Yoongi knew how it ended. Because he had gone through it. Because he wouldn’t be able to uphold himself for the second time. 

He stayed silent. 

Jimin looked mortified next to him. He made a move to leave, but was stopped by Jungkook’s broad chest still hovering at the doorstep. 

“Fucking moron,” Jungkook spit, “I’m dancing on my fingertips for a year, I am kissing you and making love to you, I am taking care of you when you are sick and I am rushing to you when I feel down, I am hugging you and I am confessing my love to you from the podium, and you are still not daring to call me yours? ”

“Guys, I really think I shouldn’t be here —” Jimin never finished a sentence as he pushed past Jungkook, slipping out of the room.

Yoongi could only look at Jungkook. Could only see him.  

“Call me yours, hyung. Call me yours and be proud of it.” Jungkook stepped deeper into the room. 

How was Yoongi supposed to do it? Did he even have a right, when he had made peace out of knowing that Jungkook wasn’t meant for him; that Jungkook would never be his?

“Because you rush to me when I ask you to, and you listen to all of my problems, and you kiss me like I matter, and when you touch me I feel at ease, and — I meant it. Every time I said I love you, I meant it.”

But Yoongi didn’t. The first time he said it, he didn’t mean it. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook said. He was so close to Yoongi, towering over him. Yoongi had made a home out of his safety bubble. Jungkook’s hands tightened into fists. “I’m okay with that. As long as you meant it when you said it today, I’m okay with that.”

“I meant it,” Yoongi told him. He reached out and opened Jungkook’s fists, fitting his hands into Jungkook’s palms instead. “Of course I meant it.”  

Jungkook took a long, deep breath. “Then don’t be like Mikyung-noona. Don’t be scared.”

Yoongi wasn’t scared.

He was terrified. 

But here’s what he was going to do. 

He was going to let it flow. He was going to let this fear settle in his bones. 

And he was going to live through it.

/

SHARE IN THE LOVE

Lee Jiwoo

And

Kim Mikyung

Invite you to share in their

love as they celebrate marriage

Friday, 15th of April

2022

3 o’clock in the afternoon

Dinner and dancing to follow