Jungkook was eighteen when he discovered seasonal affective disorder. Although he never got diagnosed by a professional, he felt like he had it. He never boasted about it or mentioned it to anyone, and he had never even bothered to look up ways to cope with it, really, but he knew about its existence and that was all that mattered.
Seasonal affective disorder.
It was just... there. And knowing that it was there kind of gave Jungkook a sense of comfort; a reminder that yes, things got really fucking shitty around this time every year but it wasn’t really his own fault and that well, yes, it would go on for a few months, but then things would get better and go back to normal — so for now, while it lasted, it was okay to blame this disorder for his fuck-ups.
He wasn’t fucked up — he just occasionally fucked up, and his fuck-up rate increased a lot during this time.
So yes. It wasn’t really his fault. It was the disorder’s fault. It was this fucking disorder’s fault that he was sitting on the cold tiled floor, on the verge of tears, rambling about his feelings. About how lonely he was. To Kim Namjoon.
“Wow,” Jungkook snapped, rubbing his face with his hands. “My eyes. I’m crying. Un-fuckin-believable, huh?”
Namjoon sniffed and nodded silently, taking another swig from his beer. He looked a little out of it. He‘s really flushed in the face, Jungkook thought to himself. Hair messy, eyes glassy, lips glossy. God, he just looked really, really cute. Jungkook wanted to die right then and there because how dare Namjoon look so pretty and so flushed when he was too fucking drunk to even speak properly?
“‘S okay,” Namjoon slurred after a while. Jungkook snatched the bottle and took a large swig. Pursing his lips, he pushed the nearly-empty bottle back into Namjoon’s hands. Disgusting. Beer was disgusting.
“It’s not,” he sighed. Then, “Hyung, can I tell you a secret?”
“I love ‘em,” Namjoon said, and then he yawned.
And beer may taste like shit but it’s certainly liquid courage if you drink just enough. “I love you,” he exhaled, closing his eyes, the image of Namjoon scrunching his nose when he yawned burning at the backs of his eyelids.
Namjoon made a cooing sound — Maybe. Was it a coo?
“No, I like, like — love love you. Like. Gay love you,” Jungkook huffed, “a lot. Okay, that’s too soon to say this but like, hyung I just — fuck. I don’t know.”
Namjoon hummed. Jungkook kept his eyes shut.
“Remember when we first met? I wasn’t even into music that much back then, I just enjoyed singing but I pretended I wanted to learn how to produce and write lyrics and shit because I wanted to spend time with you and I think Yoongi hyung knew — knows? ‘Cause he’d make a big deal out of me contans- constantly delayin’ his piano lessons and — uh, yeah.”
Namjoon made another sound of acknowledgement.
“I was really shy but... I grew used to it, to being around you and acting natural and stuff and just, dealing with my crush became easier and I hoped it’d fade away but it never did and I just, Joonie, you’re so sweet and so kind and so so good—”
“And it just. Got hard. And stopped being just a crush. Like that night at the restaurant when we were spying on Tae ‘n Jimin ‘n Yoongi, remember? We were in the bushes ‘n it was really fucking cold but we were laughing ‘n then you were just — there. And it was dark but there was moonlight and you were there. And you looked so pretty and I wanted to kiss you so, so bad and it kinda hit me back then that I...”
Jungkook trailed off, covering his face with his hands.
“That I just. Wanted to keep living in that moment. Us alone, in the dark, in the motherfuckin’ moonlight, a little chilly, laughing, and just — happy. And together. And then I realised that any kind of, um, moment, in any place would be good with you. Even if it was in the sun and it was hot and things were shit, it’d still be a good moment if you were there by my side.”
Jungkook sighed, opening his eyes but keeping them firmly on the his own thighs. “Say something.”
Namjoon stayed silent. Jungkook suddenly felt sober.
“We don’t— it’s okay if you don’t feel the same; I just wanted to let it out. I’m sorry.”
Namjoon remained silent.
“Hyung, say something. Anything, please. Fuck, I’m,” Jungkook choked out, covering his face with his hands again. “I fucked up. I understand if you’re uncomfortable right now, hyung, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I—“
“Hyung?” Jungkook looked up and. Oh.
With a shaky breath, Jungkook ran a hand through his hair before standing up. His knees wobbled, he was dizzy, and he felt too far from the floor, yet despite everything, Jungkook leaned down and tried to drag a sleeping Namjoon.
Maybe they could just spend the night there. On the bathroom floor.
With a deep breath, Jungkook dismissed the idea, leaned down again, and concentrated all the energy he had on lifting Namjoon’s heavy, gangly, heavy body up. He succeeded. Fuck yeah. He couldn’t wait to flex later.
With Namjoon hanging over his right shoulder, Jungkook stumbled to the bedroom, hit his elbow against a chair, let out a sound that sounded questionably similar to a seal’s, and dropped Namjoon on the bed.
It was dark but through the guidance of the moonlight slipping through the window, Jungkook managed to take off Namjoon’s shoes, pulled the sheets from underneath him and covered him up with them. Jungkook slipped off his shoes, stood there, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and after a few seconds of hesitation, climbed into the bed next to Namjoon.
He could throw an arm across Namjoon’s waist. Or bury his head in Namjoon’s neck. Or do both. Or maybe he could just hold his hand. The possibilities were endless and there were hundreds of excuses — they were drunk, it was cold, Namjoon definitely did it first, bla bla bla.
But here’s the thing: Jungkook didn’t really need an excuse. He never did, not when it came to Namjoon — Namjoon, who was always content around him, always proud of him, always happy to indulge him without any excuses, any reasons, any real motives.
And here’s the other thing: Jungkook didn’t trust himself.
Because he knew that if he held Namjoon’s hand, then he wouldn’t let go in the morning. And if he buried his head in Namjoon’s neck, then he’d wake him up with love-bites. And if he threw an arm around Namjoon’s waist, then he would end up clinging to him like a fucking koala and wouldn’t let go until Namjoon genuinely got irritated.
(Okay, not exactly. Jungkook would definitely not cross any boundaries and he would respect Namjoon’s wishes and avoid doing anything that would make him uncomfortable. Jungkook was a Decent Man. Namjoon’s decent man. Namjoon’s good boy.)
So, yeah. Seasonal affective disorder. It was the reason Jungkook managed to fall asleep only after hours of thinking — cold and curled up, alone and lonely, even though Namjoon was right there, warm and pretty and so far away on the other side of his double bed.
Why the hell did Namjoon even have a double bed?
In the next morning, which happened to be on a warm Saturday, the sun returned to the sky, but not a single event from previous night returned to Namjoon’s head from after he’d left the party and arrived to his flat with Jungkook, and Jungkook was grateful for that. Unbelievably grateful. Questionably grateful.
“Why are you acting like this?” Namjoon grumbled. Yeah, questionably grateful. “Did I do something embarrassing last night?”
He was starting to actually get worried. Jungkook lowkey thought Namjoon looked cute when he was worrying, but he was very kind so he didn’t drag it on.
“More embarrassing than you already are when you’re sober?” Jungkook asked, flipping a pancake. “Nah, hyung. You tried to sing a whale song though.”
“Let’s... never bring this up.”
“Yeah, let’s not, because I’m pretty sure I tried to be your background vocals.”
Namjoon chuckled and asked about it, but Jungkook reminded him of the rule they’d just set. Never bring it up.
And they didn’t. No one brought up the night in which Jungkook had tried to confess his love for Namjoon, for the first time ever, and failed.
But truth be told, Jungkook didn’t regret it because at least, now he knew how to do it. And he was going to do it right.
He was going to do it. Jungkook was actually going to do it. He wasn’t quite sure he was going to do it right but he was going to do it (!!!) and that alone was more than good enough.
With his eyes set on the plain brown door in front of him — the entrance to Kim Namjoon’s and Min Yoongi’s infamous flat — he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, hoping it looked fluffy and that he hadn’t flattened it down instead. He tugged on his jacket’s sleeves in a pitiful attempt to look a little smaller; a little cuter. Because he was looking cuter than usual. Jungkook was looking extremely cute. Positively adorable, babie material, boyfriendly cute.
The plan? Jungkook was going to knock on the door. Namjoon would open it. Namjoon would be like, “Hey come in, bro.”
And then Jungkook would be like, “Don’t call me bro when we’re about to go out on a date.”
Okay. No. Absolutely not. Backtrack.
Namjoon would open the door and he would ask Jungkook to come in and then he would ask him if everything was okay and Jungkook would reassure him that everything was, in fact, fine! But he was wondering if Namjoon was busy?
And Namjoon, probably busy, would deny it and be like, “Never too busy for my baby,” with a badly-composed wink, and then Jungkook would implode but remain composed and calm and be like, “haha, your baby, gay. Gayyy.”
Nope. Definitely not that. Backtrack, again.
Namjoon would deny being busy. Jungkook would ask him out. Namjoon would be like, “Huh? Sure. Where are we going?”
Jungkook would tell him, “On a date.”
And since Jungkook looked positively adorable, babie material, boyfriendly cute, Namjoon would gasp, and consider it for a minute, and then realise that they would look so fucking adorable together! And then he’d say yes and he’d blush and Jungkook would literally explode this time and his limbs would be distributed across the globe and Namjoon would have to go on a quest looking for them and it would be the cutest thing ever. Dora the explorer. But for adults. Namjoon the explorer.
Okay, no. That sounded like the title of a bad porno.
Then Namjoon would write songs about him and Jungkook would sing them and god, they’d be such a power couple. They’d make a better couple than Angelina Jolie and Beyoncé would if they dated in an alternate universe. Hm. Jungkook had never thought about the idea of Angelina Jolie and Beyoncé together but... they were both iconic women whom he genuinely adored. Also, the whole actress+singer trope? Amazing.
Almost as amazing as the Namjoon+Jungkook trope.
With a self-reminder to tell Taehyung about the lesbian fiction idea he just came up with on the spot, in less than thirty seconds, and to flex on it as much as he could, Jungkook grinned and rapped on the door, stifling a giggle when Namjoon yelled at him to come in.
But because plan included Namjoon specifically opening the door, and because he wanted to procrastinate as much as he fucking could, Jungkook started banging it with his knee. Then with his phone.
“What the fu— Oh.”
The plan failed.
“Hi Jimin,” Jungkook grinned, clenching his fists, mentally setting buildings on fire. “Hyung’s here?”
“I’m your hyung too,” Jimin grumbled, moving away from the entrance. Jungkook snorted. “Yeah. C’mon in. Before the neighbours call the cops.”
“Kook?” Namjoon called from the living room. “I knew it was you! Jimin, pay up.”
“I’m broke,” Jimin huffed. “In my defence, Kook never shows up uninvited and abuses the door like this, okay?”
“And Tae does?”
“Yes?” Jimin said disbelievingly. “God, it’s like you were never roommates with him. Anyway, Jeon Jungkook, what’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m just annoying. And I finished an entire carton of banana milk this morning,” Jungkook said, shrugging nonchalantly. He was cool. He totally didn’t pour out his nerves on the poor door. “Every time I move I can feel the milk swishing and swooshing inside my stomach.”
Really cool, Jungkook. So fucking cool. Namjoon was probably gonna swoon any moment now. Namjoon and swoon rhymed for a reason — Jungkook’s Coolness.
Why the fuck was Jimin there? He loved Jimin, he’d die for Jimin, he’d take not only a bullet, but a whole grenade for him — Captain America: The First Avenger Style — but why the fuck was Jimin here? Now?
Fuck. Jungkook was nervous.
“Right...” Namjoon said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes! Of course,” Jungkook said, smiling. “I just, um, are you busy right now?”
No backing out.
“Nah, I’m never too busy for my favourite Kookie,” Namjoon said, taking off his glasses. Jimin snorted and sat down on the couch, next to Namjoon. “So, what’s up?”
My favourite Kookie. Fuck. Fucking hell. Motherfucking eternal damnation.
“Uh.” Jungkook’s eyes drifted to Jimin. He wished he could punch him in his smug, tiny face. “I wanted to... ask you something.”
“I hope that you’ll, uh, be understanding but like, it’s okay if you’re not, you know? Like I’ll just keep it to myself and try to... get over it. Because like, it’s not a big deal and just— yeah,” Jungkook rambled, swallowing nervously. “I just have to say it even though things might change and. Well. I hope they don’t and if they do then I hope it’s... for the better? Fuck— we’ll get to this.”
Namjoon and Jimin both blinked at him.
“This is awkward. Really fucking awkward — you know what? Forget it,” Jungkook snapped, covering his face with his hands. “‘S not a big deal. It’s nothing.”
He instantly regretted snapping. His hyungs hadn’t even said anything — instead, they had just let him rant without interrupting or mocking him so why was he acting out like this? Hell, why was he overthinking and rambling and embarrassing himself in the first place?
Why did Jimin have to be there?
Jungkook heard a soft sigh and some rustling, then felt a small pair of hands over his, pulling them down and away from his face.
“You could’ve just called instead of coming over so I’m guessing it must be pretty serious,” Jimin said, squinting suspiciously at Jungkook as he rubbed the back of his hands with his thumbs.
Jungkook turned back to Namjoon whose eyes seemed to widen in realisation. Huh. What?
“And it’s okay. Kookie... We’ll love you no matter what. We don’t really get it but as long as it’s not harming anyone, it’s okay, yeah?” Jimin said, smiling. his suspicious expression turning into a warm one. Namjoon nodded along, also smiling carefully.
Namjoon added, “I did some research — to an extent — after what Taehyung told us and I’m still confused but I’m willing to hear you out.”
“Me too,” Jimin agreed. “And all of our friends, too. Everyone’s cool with Tae and they’ll be cool with you.”
“Huh?” Jungkook blinked. “Tae? What the—“
Fuck. Did Taehyung tell them about the fan-accounts? Or… even worse, the vines…?
“And we saw it coming, to be honest. We were talking about it earlier,” Jimin said, smirking as he nudged Namjoon in the ribs. “About how our feelings towards you won’t change, right, Joonie?”
Blushing, Namjoon nodded and pushed Jimin weakly.
“Feelings? Wait, what—“
“Yeah,” Namjoon interrupted. “Nothing will change. So, Kookie, tell us.”
“Tell you?” Jungkook asked, pulling at his sleeves. “Uh, I— Jiminie, can we have some privacy? Hyung and I?”
Namjoon smiled fondly and Jimin snorted as he stood up, not bothering to call him out. Small mercies.
“I’m offended that you don’t wanna tell me even though my own boyfriend is like this too, but, well,” Jimin shrugged as he turned and walked away. “I’ll go raid your kitchen!”
His boyfriend is like him? Yoongi wasn’t in love with Namjoon but... Taehyung on the other hand...?
“Have fun!” Namjoon yelled after him before turning to Jungkook again. “So, Kookie... tell me.”
It couldn’t be.
“I’m kinda confused right now so I don’t really—“
“Jungkook, I’m your best friend. I’d never judge you for that shit, so just say it,” Namjoon sighed said, smiling.
Best friend. Aw.
“Yeah. What’s your fursona?”
Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering rung across the flat, followed by a high-pitched “Fuck, sorry!” Namjoon was instantly on his feet and out of sight, and Jungkook had to sit down before his knees gave up because what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck?
“What the fuck?” He mumbled a minute later, when he was done replaying the entire conversation in his head.
“Yeah,” Jimin said, walking in and sitting down next to him. “I broke the yellow mug — the one I bought last month, remember? I’m an idiot.”
“Sad.” Jungkook muttered. Then, “The fuck? Tae is a furry?”
“Yes. You’re not alone, see?” Jimin grinned. “Still, though, don’t instantly tell Yoongi, I—“
“I’m not a furry, Jimin.”
Jimin snorted. “Of course. Anyway, Yoongi would—“
“Tae’s not in love with Joon?”
“What,” Jimin froze, a shocked expression slowly taking over his features. “No. What the fu—“
“Nevermind. Um, you and Namjoon talked about how I might be a furry?” Jungkook stammered out, feeling breathless. Kind of dizzy. And super confused. And weirded the fuck out.
“Yeah,” Jimin confirmed. “Told you no one’s feelings towards you will change. Also, we assumed your fursona would be a rabbit because of the whole. Bunny thing.”
“Bunny thing?” Jungkook repeated, scrunching his nose.
“You—“ Jimin began, squinting at Jungkook. “Yes.”
“I can relate to puppies too, though. Can I be both? A bunny and a puppy?”
“Yeah, like a hybrid,” Namjoon said, walking in. “So, anyway, if you’re not a furry, what did you wanna talk about?”
His mouth went dry. “Um. Exactly that, actually. I’m questioning whether I’m a furry or not and I was too scared to just go and ask anyone — you know? Especially since I can, um, relate to both puppies and dogs. I mean, puppies and rabbits. Bunnies.”
Bitches, too. Jungkook was a bitch furry. Probably.
Namjoon blinked and nodded. “Yes. Of course, Kookie, c’mon. I love you. I’ll go get my laptop.”
“I love you too,” Jungkook muttered, his lower lip jutting out as Namjoon left the room. Jimin’s eyes trailed from the hallway and back to Jungkook. He raised an eyebrow.
Jungkook cleared his throat. “What.”
Jimin hummed. “Nothing. Nothing at all. So, tell me. You thought for a moment that Tae’s in love with hyung… why?”
“Forget about it.”
Jimin’s mouth twitched. “Hm. I see.”
Thanks to Namjoon’s and Jimin’s aid, Jungkook came to the discovery that he was not a furry.
And that he was slightly into pet-play and that there were some really fucking extreme kinks out there and that abuse in the BDSM community was a topic that needed more awareness. Oh, and there were a lot of creepy people on Tumblr dot com. (Creepy was an understatement. Some people should be in jail.
They reported every such person they came across.)
And yeah, the plan failed. Miserably.
But it was okay because Namjoon kept calling him his bunny, Jimin snuggled the fuck out of him, and it was a really nice day — so, the plan might have failed but Jungkook still won at the end of the day. Kind of.
(Later that night, Jungkook climbed into Taehyung’s bed and told him about how he’d die for a lesbian fic with the actress+singer trope. And then they brainstormed some ideas together until the sky began to grow lighter and their eyes began to droop lower. The last thing Jungkook remembered before falling asleep was Taehyung agreeing that Namjoon and Jungkook would make a better couple than Angelina Jolie and Beyoncé. And telling him that Namjoon was tired of waiting.
He forgot to ask him if he was a furry — and if he was still crushing on Namjoon.)
Jungkook had completely forgotten about asking Namjoon out; it had just slipped his mind. Entirely. Or, at least, that’s what he’d tell Taehyung every time he’d jump at him, demanding updates and details.
So, if Taehyung called him right at this moment (unlikely, since he was out with Jimin) then Jungkook would tell him he wasn’t considering asking Namjoon out, right then. as he and Namjoon lay down together, underneath the stars, on the damp, spiky grass.
Actually, being out with Jimin never stopped Taehyung from calling him. Likely, then.
Anyway. Yeah. Jungkook wasn’t thinking about telling Namjoon how much he liked him then and there, and the goosebumps on his skin were solely there because of the chilly breeze — not because Namjoon was tugging at his hair, not because Namjoon’s stomach flexed under Jungkook’s head every time he moved or took a deep breath, and definitely not because he could feel a strip of Namjoon’s skin against the back of his neck.
If he turned his head and lowered his neck a little bit, just a little bit, he could press a kiss there. His lips were cold, so maybe Namjoon would shiver. Or maybe he’d giggle. Or maybe he’d freeze.
And they were alone, in the quiet.
He could blow a raspberry instead. It would be okay. It wouldn’t really mean anything.
“I feel bad for him,” Namjoon sighed, his eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi, whose existence Jungkook’s brain had temporarily eradicated. Yoongi, who was sleeping soundly, curled up on Jungkook’s chest.
Right. They weren’t alone.
Jungkook felt bad for having this thought, but Jesus. That man was a third-wheel in his own relationship so why was Jungkook surprised that he was third-wheeling them now?
“Yeah,” Jungkook bit his tongue and agreed, brushing Yoongi’s hair away from his forehead.
“Things are kinda weird but they’ll be okay,” Namjoon added, quietly. “Right?”
Jungkook blinked. “Yes. Totally. Uh, I think maybe Yoongi and Jimin should, like, try to spend some time alone. And they should all talk about it.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Like, you’re not really their marriage counsellor. Instead of coming to you to complain, Yoongi should go ‘n talk to his boyfriends,” Jungkook added. “Miscommunication is the reason behind... the downfall of humanity.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon agreed. Then blinked. “What.”
“Really! But like, it’s different? The downfall of humanity is caused by not communicating on purpose, you know? Like, keeping information secret until there’s no choice but telling people.”
“Hm, I know you’re thinking about zombie apocalypses,” Namjoon snorted, flicking him in the cheek. Jungkook grinned, tilting his head. “But you’re actually right. Somewhat, I think.”
“Of course I’m right.”
“No, for real,” Namjoon said. “All governments do is lie and lie and lie. The truth is the last option — it only comes out when governments run out of lies. And even then, it’s not always the complete truth, so you’re right. Even if you’re thinking about zombie apocalypses, you’re right because fiction and reality are more tied together than you think.”
“Oh.” Jungkook blushed. “Thanks. Yeah. You’re right.”
Damn. Did Namjoon mean that zombies are related to reality or what? Yoongi, one time, went on a rant about how the whole werewolves versus vampires thing can be compared to the uprising of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie. Maybe zombies are also somehow related to real life issues and can be compared to them. Like, experimenting on poor people? Or illnesses that spread predominantly in poor societies but don’t receive awareness until the issue reaches higher classes?
“Fuck the government,” Jungkook sighed, turning to Namjoon. Fuck the government. The first thing Jungkook was going to do when he got home was looking up the origins and roots of zombies. Fucking white people. Rich people. Men.
“Yeah,” Namjoon agreed, completely unaware of the serious discussion Jungkook was having with himself. Completely unaware of how pretty he looked.
His eyelashes casted shadows on his cheeks, but the shadows turned into highlights as he removed his hand from under his head and tilted it backwards against the grass. God, he was gorgeous. Mesmerising. Glowing. His lips twitched as the grass-blades poked against the back of his neck and for a moment, Jungkook felt really fucking torn up because every tiny detail about Namjoon deserved a song written about it but also... should he be noticing these little details? Did he have the right to notice these details — even if they were so loud?
“I wish I could take a picture of you right now.”
Namjoon’s other hand froze in his hair, causing Jungkook to whine and nuzzle his head against it, silently demanding for more. With a chuckle, Namjoon went on and asked, “why?”
“It’s a photographer thing,” Jungkook said. Smooth. “Photographer urges. It’s a thing, you know. And, uh, the light is good.”
“Isn’t it too dark?”
“The moonlight, I meant,” Jungkook sighed, shutting his eyes. “But yeah, you’re right. And I can’t move anyway. Not that I can’t lift Yoongi but yeah.”
We get it, bitch. You can lift.
Namjoon hummed. He hummed a lot. It was cute. Was it a genuinely cute thing or just a cute-because-of-love thing? “Maybe we can go out someday and... I don’t know? Have a photoshoot.”
“Shoot me like one of your french girls.”
Jungkook groaned, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and bite it playfully.
“Ow! What the fuck?”
“It was either that or your hip,” Jungkook huffed. “You were asking for it.”
“Wow,” Namjoon said, rubbing his palm against Jungkook’s cheeks. Jungkook didn’t mind. Disgusting. “Okay, then, thanks for not biting my fucking hip instead. I would’ve reacted differently.”
Was that so? Hm. Jungkook had the sudden urge to ask him to elaborate.
“Damn, hyung. That’s kinky,” he said instead, smirking. He desperately hoped he looked cool, not heterosexual and horny. “I’m up for anything!”
“Of course you are, you furry,” Namjoon joked, grinning with both of his dimples on full display. Jungkook’s Photographer Urges returned, stronger than before. “That’s like incest, though. So no thanks.”
“Yoongi doesn’t need more complications with his life and a threesome with me sounds... troubling,” Namjoon added.
“Oh, so you and Yoongi would be incesty?” Jungkook asked, steering clear from any other ideas. The idea of a threesome with Namjoon. A twosome with Namjoon. “Didn’t you two use to hook up?”
“Don’t remind me,” Namjoon groaned. Jungkook chuckled again and then things went quiet.
It wasn’t awkward. It was nice. Namjoon’s hand felt comforting in his hair and Yoongi’s hair felt soft between his fingers and it was really nice. The rhythm. The chilly air. The constant goosebumps. The quiet.
If only Yoongi wasn’t there, holding Jungkook down. And if only Jungkook wasn’t such a nice, considerate, caring person who felt protective over his tiny hyung, he would’ve pushed him off his chest and jumped at Namjoon.
Except... he needed to find a logical excuse to straddle Namjoon. And press his hands against his chest; at his tiddies. God, Namjoon’s tiddies. So beautiful.
“We should head back home,” Namjoon said, without moving a muscle. Jungkook hummed.
Blood pressure! Jungkook could pretend to be interested in checking Namjoon’s blood pressure. His thighs were so sensitive that he’d be able to feel Namjoon’s blood pressure through them — it made sense, right? And his hands on Namjoon’s chest — his heartbeat rate. Nurse Jungkook.
Jungkook set a self-reminder to call Taehyung as soon as he got home and tell him about his latest idea: Fake Nurse.
“It’s late,” Namjoon added, quietly.
If they were alone; if Yoongi wasn’t lying on top him, Jungkook would press his hand against Namjoon’s chest and count his heartbeats.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Jungkook asked, pulling his jacket back up after it had slipped off Yoongi’s shoulders. “And Jimin.”
Namjoon was silent for a few seconds. “Yeah. Things are complicated but everything is complicated in the beginning, you know? And their situation isn’t a common one. Like, Tae and Jimin have something rare. Their relationship has always been special, ever since the beginning. You know that. But one of them is sometimes hypersexual and the other is asexual, and then Yoongi became involved with Taehyung but it was never supposed to be romantic or anything more than sexual but shit happens and... well.”
Jungkook pursed his lips, remembering how things were like back then. “God. I’m so glad they all figured their shit and got together. It was a fucking mess.”
“I was the marriage counsellor and you were the secret agent,” Namjoon pointed out, smiling. “Remember when you accidentally sent the screenshots to Jimin instead of Tae? Fucking hell.”
“Hyung, please, I’ll cry if you don’t stop,” Jungkook said, his face reddening as Namjoon giggled (giggled!!!) and ruffled his hair.
“Alright, alright,” Namjoon sighed. “We can’t have that. But, yeah. They’ll be alright. Things aren’t as complicated anymore, they just need to talk again and sort out their insecurities. I think that yeah, it’d be good if Yoongi and Jimin spent some time together but the three of them can easily fix things once they talk about it, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed. Once they talked about it. Lack of communication was the downfall of humanity.
Jungkook should tell him.
“Hyung, um, when was the last time you went on a date?”
A while. A while. A while.
He’d say it had been a while. Jungkook would ask him if he’d like to change that; if he’d like to go out with him. Namjoon would be confused. He’d ask questions. Jungkook would give him answers. And a kiss, maybe.
Namjoon’s hand stopped moving. Jungkook didn’t whine but he did mentally set himself on fire.
“A while,” Namjoon answered, after some time passed. “I got asked out recently by this girl in class.”
Oh. Okay. That was fine.
He said no. He said no. He said no.
“I said no, though. Didn’t tell her why, but it’s ‘cause I like someone else,” Namjoon added. “But if they don’t like me back then I might ask her out again. Or say yes the next time someone asks me.”
Good! Because he needed to move on and Jungkook would ask him out then and it would be good. They don’t like you back because they probably don’t know you like I do, Jungkook wanted to say. They don’t like you like I do. I like you. A lot.
“No one in their right mind wouldn’t like you back, though,” Jungkook said quickly. Fuck. “Who is it? Let me punch them.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kookie. C’mon, let’s head back to the flat,” Namjoon chuckled, sitting up. “Do us both a favour and use your muscles to carry this bitch instead of punching anyone.”
“Mm, you’re the bitch,” he groaned, burying his face in Jungkook’s shirt. Jungkook and Namjoon looked at him, and looked at each other, then doubled up laughing.
A few minutes later, Namjoon went and started the car while Jungkook gave Yoongi a piggyback ride and ran around. The sounds of Namjoon honking the car, Yoongi’s loud curses and squeals, and Jungkook’s shameless giggles filled the park and disrupted the quiet.
And it was okay. The quiet was overrated anyway.
And Namjoon liked someone else.
(Maybe Jungkook had overrated himself too.)
After looking up ‘origins of zombies,’ Jungkook discovered that, quote — unquote, zombie folklore had been around for centuries in Haiti and that it possibly originated from when West Africans were brought in were brought in to work on Haiti’s sugar cane plantations. According to some reports, the life — or rather afterlife — of a zombie represented the horrific plight of slavery.
After calling up Taehyung, Jungkook discovered that his fake nurse idea wasn’t so bad. As soon as he heard the words fake nurse, the older boy came up with a short story idea set in a hospital in which character A would be injured and character B, a stranger, would pretend to be a nurse. Halfway through a flirting session full of fake medical advice, the actual nurse would walk in. Namjo— character A would realise what was going on, character B would be unapologetic, and they would decide to go on a date.
(Jungkook loved it.. Also, character A would be a rapper. A poet. With dimples.)
(Taehyung agreed and called him gay. So Jungkook called him a furry.)
After calling Taehyung a furry, Jungkook discovered that Taehyung wasn’t actually a furry but everyone believed him when he said he was without questioning it at all — which, admittedly, was a slightly concerning reaction...
(Yoongi was the only one who knew the truth aside from Jungkook, though, Jungkook had also discovered, because when Taehyung ‘came out’ as a furry, Yoongi was genuinely upset with him. “And he had every right to, as a trans guy,” Jungkook told Taehyung, who agreed. Trans people were often not taken seriously due to people seriously claiming they identify as objects, mythological characters, animals, and even children — from what Jungkook had seen back when he ‘researched’ things with Namjoon and Jimin on Tumblr.)
After hanging up the phone, Jungkook discovered that he missed Namjoon a lot. He couldn’t fall asleep quickly that night, even though he was physically drained. And emotionally in pain.
After waking up at noon, Jungkook discovered that he couldn’t fall asleep because he was too busy thinking about Namjoon’s fucking crush. A nameless asshole who would never be good enough for Namjoon — not because he wasn’t Jungkook, but because Namjoon deserved the best.
And because he wasn’t Jungkook.
(But then again, Jungkook often wondered if he deserved Namjoon; even as a friend — but that was a different story. A story Jungkook kept to himself.)
Jungkook didn’t get jealous. He occasionally got jealous but it was never a significant feeling. The last time he felt really jealous was when Kim Heejin threw a birthday party two days after his birthday and he hadn’t thrown one at all because he felt like fourteen was too old for birthday parties. God, he still regretted it. Heejin’s party was pretty large and it was brought up in conversations for months.
Was that even jealousy? Or just regret?
Because the party was awesome and Heejin was a fucking sweetheart and he had so much fun. Yeah, it bothered him a little that barely anyone remembered his birthday while Heejin’s was hyped for the rest of the year but, still, it wasn’t a big deal.
Nothing really ever was a big deal — not when it came to jealousy.
So Jungkook wasn’t really sure how to deal with jealousy at this point because he was jealous. Really fucking jealous. Burning on the inside. Seething. Bitch Furry Mode: On. He felt like Taylor Swift back when she hated other girls.
“I’m sorry but hyung,” Jungkook whined, “you love me more, right? More than you like your crush? Please say yes because— yes.”
Meet Jeon Jungkook. The reason the word eloquence was coined. A master of words and expression.
“No,” Jungkook groaned. “No. Just. No. Date me. I’m cute. I can lift you. I even did it while drunk. Our clothes are the same size.”
What the fuck?
With a sigh, Jungkook slid his thumb across the screen, deleting the voice recording just as his phone pinged and with new text notifications.
“Hey hyung!” Jungkook greeted, “that was quick.”
“Yeah, I was nearby,” Namjoon said, lifting the grocery bags in his hands as an explanation. “Nice socks. You smell good.”
Jungkook wiggled his big toe sticking out of the hole in his sock. “Thanks, they’re my favourite. Also it’s women’s deodorant.”
“I hate that nonsense,” Namjoon rolled his eyes as he walked in, heading straight to the kitchen. “It’s just deodorant. Ungendered.”
“Gendered. It’s Taehyung Gender,” Jungkook corrected. Shaking his head at Namjoon’s confused expression, he added, “Seokjin Gay, Taehyung Gender — uh, it’s a thing.”
“Ask Hobi hyung,” Jungkook chuckled, moving and taking the bags from Namjoon’s hands and placing them on the counter. “So, what are we making and what do you wanna talk about?”
“Uh, remember when I told you I had a crush?” Namjoon asked. As if Jungkook could ever forget. “And, I don’t know. Crêpes?”
“Popcorn,” Jungkook corrected as he lift himself up and sat on the counter. “I’m lazy. I don’t know anything about your crush, though.”
“It’s a guy.” Nice. “Where’s the popcorn?”
“The first drawer,” Jungkook said, frowning. “If it’s not there then there’s an unopened bag in the—“
Jungkook had to physically force himself to stop frowning. “So. It’s a guy, huh? I know way too much — you should probably poison me with the popcorn.”
“Ha ha,” Namjoon deadpanned. “Yeah. He’s cute — fuck, I put way too much oil.”
“The more the merrier and... I’m cuter, right?”
Jungkook was sure that this wasn’t how the expression was meant to be used but he was too busy mentally beating the fuck out of himself for saying something so… petulantly gay.
He said it in a light-hearted tone, though, so that’s good, right? Like, haha, I’m cuter. Bunny emoji.
“Shut up, furry,” Namjoon said. “Yeah, though. You’re the cutest.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook mumbled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand as an extremely pitiful attempt to hide his blush — from who? Namjoon, who wasn’t even looking at him?
This was awkward. But somewhat okay — it was just them. Namjoon and Jungkook. It was awkward but not necessarily uncomfortable or unwelcome.
“So...” Jungkook trailed, his brain full of bunny emojis. “What’s up with him? Penny for your thoughts?”
Namjoon sighed and turned around. “I don’t know if he likes me. He’s unreadable.”
“Unreadable? Is he cold or...?”
Namjoon raised his eyebrows and shook his head quickly, laughing as if Jungkook had said an oscar-worthy joke.
No, actually, he was laughing as if Jungkook had said something remotely amusing because this was Namjoon and he always grinned at Jungkook’s jokes and he always laughed really fucking hard whenever Jungkook made amused remarks or said something funny. (Even though he wouldn’t intend it to be funny 99% of the time. Jungkook was just so naturally funny. Mashallah.)
And Jungkook would end up milking those little remarks and everyone else would get bored but Namjoon would keep laughing, and if Namjoon wasn’t the humblest person he knew then he’d assume that Namjoon did it on purpose to show off his deep dimples and pretty teeth.
“You’re crushing on a robot. The world is really advancing, huh?” Jungkook added, eyes glinting when Namjoon kept laughing. “Within fifty years we landed on the moon and learnt to fall in love with robots. And also created double-ended dildos sometime in the middle.”
That was fucking horrible. Namjoon laughed, though, so it was okay. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook.
“Aw, okay hyung. So, tell me about your robot— wait. Oh my god, did you know I had a crush on astro boy?!”
“You what?” Namjoon asked, breathless and flushed. God. Jungkook had to take a deep breath and mentally stab himself in the thigh with a fork.
Jungkook shrugged, super chill. “Yup.”
“I’m not even surprised.” Namjoon shook his head and brushed a hand through his hair. “you know how at some point the six of us thought Hobi was crushing on us? And it turned out the only one who was right about it was Seokjin hyung?”
“That’s because we all crushed on Jin hyung.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook stammered. “Everyone thought Hobi hyung crushed on them but everyone also crushed on Jin hyung? But, boom, the only person Hobi actually crushed on was Jin and the only person Jin liked back was Hobi. Isn’t that, uh, a common fact?”
“I mean, Yoongi and I both— you know what?” Namjoon interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “We’ll talk about that later. Pass me the salt.”
“Yeah. So, anyway. My crush is kind of like Hobi hyung. I think he might like me but then again he acts around me the way he acts around everyone else, so I’m not sure.”
Ah. What a mood. What could possibly be better than relating to Namjoon’s robot of a crush?
Wait. “It’s not hyung, right?”
“M’kay. Well, maybe it’s because he doesn’t want you to know he likes you,” Jungkook tried. “Like, I kinda would act like this around someone I like, you know?”
“Then how would they know you like them?” Namjoon asked, leaning against the oven. “If they liked you too, I mean.”
“Hints,” Jungkook replied, his palms growing a little sweaty. “I’d drop little hints and if he liked me back then he’d notice them.”
“Hm. Hints? What should I look out for?”
“I— uh. I don’t really know,” Jungkook stammered. “I would ask them out myself? So, if your crush asks you out the it means he likes you.”
Namjoon snorted. “Really. That’s helpful. Thanks, Kookie.”
Jungkook nodded, his cheeks and the tips of his ears hot, then shifted around and grabbed two plastic bowls from the cabinet on his right. “Here. Do you want to watch the new Spiderman movie? It’s on Tae’s laptop. High quality.”
Namjoon said yes, smiling as he salted the popcorn. Then he turned around to grab some cups from the furthest corner and Jungkook let out an exhale; a large breath he’d been holding in for a long time.
No, Jungkook thought. I like you. I’ll regret it if I tell you but I’ll regret it if I don’t. “Yeah.”
“You sound tired..?” Namjoon guessed. “What is it?”
“He likes you. He definitely does,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms. “I don’t know him but I’m sure he does. Why wouldn’t he?”
Namjoon opened his mouth then closed it again.
“Yeah. Just go for it. Ask him out and if he says no then he’s a fucking dumbass. You’re amazing hyung, and I’m not saying this just because we’re best friends but because it’s true: anyone would be lucky to have you.”
Namjoon smiled. A little smile. Jungkook’s heart clenched.
How the fuck was Jungkook supposed to ask Namjoon out when he already liked someone else and came to him for advice?
“Thanks, Kookie. I’d be the lucky one, though.”
“No. He would be the luckiest and everyone else would be jealous of him, you know?” Jungkook said, and in a hopeless attempt to make it sound better, he added, “because, like, look at you! Bro. I love you, man.”
Man. Bro. Smooth.
Namjoon remained silent, staring with a masked expression at Jungkook while he clutched the plastic cups in his hands. After what felt like ages, he shook his head and smiled. His Little Smile.
No, no, no.
Namjoon’s Little Smile wasn’t a good thing.
It meant that Jungkook had fucked up, once again, and Namjoon was too fond of him to confront him so instead, he would just smile his Little Smile, try to act normally, shut him out for a couple of seconds or a couple of days, and then pretend as if nothing had happened. As if Jungkook had never fucked up in the first place.
“I love you too,” Namjoon said with a chuckle before pointing at the grocery bags beside Jungkook. “There’s a juice carton in there — bring it with you?”
Namjoon and Jungkook sat across Taehyung’s bed as the movie played, two inches apart because they’re not gay. At least, not for each other. At least, not Namjoon for Jungkook.
For a robot. Not for Jungkook. For a fucking robot.
Five minutes into the movie, Jungkook got up to drink water, and when he returned, he sat closer, and their sides were pressed against each other.
Ten minutes into the movie, Jungkook’s head was on Namjoon’s shoulder.
Fifteen minutes into the movie, Jungkook’s ankle was locked with Namjoon’s.
Twenty minutes into the movie, Jungkook had to take a bathroom break. He sat on the tiled floor and breathed. And breathed. And breathed. In two minutes, he breathed all the breathing he couldn’t do while being around Namjoon.
But his chest still ached and his lungs remained empty and the burn in his throat was from jealousy and envy. Of a robot. A motherfucking robot.
Thirty minutes into the movie, Namjoon and Jungkook sat next to each other. Three inches apart.
“Hyung?” Jungkook called out, walking inside. He suppressed a sigh when Namjoon’s muffled reply came from Yoongi’s room. He could’ve been at home, in bed, watching shameless on Taehyung’s laptop while eating cold pizza.
What a shame.
But Namjoon had asked him to come over. And he’d said yes with no hesitation. Because he was such a sucker for Namjoon, he would do anything Namjoon wanted him to — including, but not limited to, giving him prep-talks before dates with other people even if he’d kill to be in their place.
This was already established though. Right.
Jungkook walked into Yoongi’s room and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped when he was greeted by the sight of Namjoon, standing there, across the room, with a soft smile and damp hair, black trousers and a pink shirt, halfway buttoned and untucked — Namjoon, standing there, looking so pretty, so soft, and just… lovely. So lovely.
“You look lovely,” Jungkook said before he could stop himself. Namjoon ducked his head, smiling bashfully. Jungkook’s heart clenched a little. A little too much.
Fuck, was this shit healthy?
“Thanks,” Namjoon said, fidgeting with his sleeves. “Hey, can you help me with these?”
“Sure.” Jungkook walked in and sat down on the bed, and began folding up Namjoon’s sleeves. “So, who are you seeing tonight?”
“Yerim. She’s the girl I told you about — the one I rejected before.”
“Oh?” Jungkook looked up. “What about your crush?”
“He doesn’t like me back.”
“He what?” Jungkook scoffed. “How could he not? God, Joonie, I’m— I’m so sorry. You deserve better anyway. Robots suck.”
Namjoon chuckled. He sounded tired. “Thanks, Kook.”
“Yeah. Um, when did you ask him out?” Jungkook asked. “I thought you’d tell me.”
Namjoon stiffened. “I didn’t.”
“Yerim texted me yesterday — she has an extra ticket because her friend bailed on her. Captain Marvel. I said I might go. I told him I’m going on a date and he was really happy about it so...” Namjoon trailed off.
“Yeah. He sounded happy about me dating someone else so, yeah. Can’t get more obvious.”
Not necessarily. Someone could like you and not feel even remotely possessive or jealous over you, Jungkook thought. Namjoon knew that, too, but it seemed like he was just tired of pining.
Yeah. Same here, Jungkook thought. That’s why I’m pretending I don’t fucking care as much as I do.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Namjoon said, smiling. A little smile. The Little Smile. “Kinda wanna stay at home and sulk.”
Jungkook’s chest tightened. “Then do it. You don’t have to go. You can go out with her later. You can stay here.” With me.
“Nah,” Namjoon shrugged, putting out his other arm. “It’ll be fun. I need to move on, you know?”
Jungkook hummed. He wasn’t sure he could speak. Namjoon sounded off, and Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if he was lying. But about what?
Silently, Jungkook folded the other sleeve and stood up, making sure the lengths were equal while constantly fighting the urge to trail his fingers over Namjoon’s smooth forearms. His delicate wrists. His hands. His fingertips.
He shouldn’t have come here.
Namjoon went to the bathroom and stayed there for a few minutes while Jungkook lay down on Yoongi’s bed and stared at the ceiling, his skin cold like he’d taken a dip in ice water and his chest burning like he’d swallowed pieces of hellfire.
He shouldn’t have fucking come here.
Then Namjoon walked out of the bathroom with his shirt tucked in, dark shoes on his feet, and a jean jacket on his arm. Jungkook smiled; but it was a little bittersweet. He hoped Namjoon wouldn’t notice. He loved that jacket. Almost as much as he loved the boy about to wear it.
Namjoon donned the jacket and grabbed his wallet, pushing it into his pocket along with his phone and keys. Then, he straightened his posture, attempted to twirl on his heels, stumbled and almost tripped, then stood straight with a toothy smile on his face and mumbled, “So… thoughts?”
Jungkook grinned, his lower lip between his teeth. “She’s lucky.”
“Yeah?” Namjoon said, quietly.
She’s so fucking lucky.
Jungkook stood up and walked towards him. “Yeah. You look amazing.”
Namjoon thanked Jungkook quietly as he grabbed the hem of the jacket in his hands to straighten it, and then patted down Namjoon’s pink shirt underneath it.
He patted down the shirt and when he was done, he kept his hands there, and he zoned out like that; with his palms on Namjoon’s chest, focusing on nothing but the smoothness and the warmth that Namjoon’s skin emitted, spreading to Jungkook’s through the thin material of his shirt.
Jungkook belatedly noticed it had become unbearably quiet — the silence was deafening. And then Jungkook picked up on Namjoon’s heartbeat beneath his palms, and suddenly the beat was drumming in his ears.
“Thanks, Kookie,” Namjoon said, his low voice cutting through the silence. “You’re a really great friend—“
And then Jungkook did a stupid thing. A really, really fucking stupid thing that he would take full responsibility for. A thing that was a hundred percent his own fault.
In the span of a heartbeat, he cradled Namjoon’s face in his hands, pulled him close, and pressed their lips together, before kissing him with all he had.
And it was so loud; the beat of his heart like a drum.
And he kept kissing him and Namjoon was actually kissing him back until — suddenly, Namjoon fell backwards and landed on the bed with a squeal, tugging Jungkook down with him. And everything came to a halt. Including Jungkook’s brain.
Namjoon leaned against his elbows and stared at Jungkook, eyes wide and dark, breathless and flushed, his jacket hitched and his shirt wrinkled. Jungkook wondered how he’d look like had he spent a little more time kissing him.
He was so beautiful.
“What was that for?” Namjoon asked a few seconds later, still breathless, sprawled across the bed.
Jungkook shrugged weakly as he sat up and moved away, still too fucking high to freak out. Namjoon stared.
“Uh, luck,” Jungkook said, his voice raspy. “Yeah. ‘S a good luck kiss.”
“For luck.” Namjoon blinked. “Right.”
He stood up and walked towards the mirror, and started fixing up himself. Jungkook watched him silently and pressed his fingertips to his lips, reliving the kiss over and over with every move Namjoon made; Namjoon fixed his hair, and Jungkook thought of the way he tugged on it. Namjoon straightened his shirt, and Jungkook remembered pulling at the collar. Namjoon fixed his jacket, and Jungkook recalled the moment it slipped off his shoulders.
It was so quiet. So fucking quiet.
Namjoon turned around. He threw a smile at Jungkook and left the room.
He was gone.
The smile he left behind — it was that little smile. The same little smile that Jungkook couldn’t fucking stop thinking about. The same little smile that had Jungkook questioning his entire fucking life every time it appeared on Namjoon’s lips — not in a good philosophical way, but as in, what have I done this time? and I fucked up again, haven’t I?
Fuck. Fucking hell. Jungkook fucked up.
The front door slammed shut and Jungkook, at an instant, was on his feet. He rushed towards the door and opened it, ready to scream Namjoon’s name — only to find Namjoon standing at the end of the staircase. Like he was waiting. Or maybe not; his expression was blank.
“Hyung,” Jungkook said. “I. Fuck. Are we okay?”
“You should go back inside before you get locked ou—“
“No. Listen,” Jungkook interrupted, his heart racing. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know, I just wasn’t thinking and it just— happened. It was fucked up.”
The real fucked up thing, though, was the fact that Jungkook wasn’t sure he regretted it. The kiss. Fuckimh hell, he was so selfish.
“Forget it, yeah?”
“No. I’m sorry I kissed you like that, without asking or anything. And it’s weird because you don’t like me like this and just— I’m really sorry, hyung,” Jungkook stammered.
Namjoon’s expression softened, but remained unreadable. “It’s okay, Kook. I love you.”
I’m sorry, hyung, he wanted to say. And repeat multiple times.
“I-I love you too,” Jungkook said, trying to smile. “Have fun with Yerim. We’re okay, right?”
Namjoon nodded and turned away, going down the stairs. Jungkook sighed in relief and walked towards the flat, a billion thoughts running through his head — including a plan to distract himself by cleaning up Yoongi’s room. And Namjoon’s entire flat.
The plan was to walk inside the flat, shut the door, slide down to the floor, bring up his knees to his chest and cry. Because he fucked up.
And it was his own fault.
He fucked up when he crushed on Namjoon and he fucked up when he kept crushing on him and he fucked up when he fell in love with him and he fucked up when he kissed him and he fucked up when he let him go and— fuck. Fuck. He fucked up. He always seemed to be fucking up when it came to Namjoon, huh?
Maybe he was just fucked up?
That thought, although it stayed lurking in the bottom of his mind, was knocked out of his head when the door suddenly opened, hitting him. Quickly, he crawled away while hurriedly wiping his face with his sleeves and—
“Jungkook?” Namjoon said, softly. Fucking pathetic. “Kookie, you’re okay?”
Namjoon shut the door and got on his knees in front of Jungkook, then carefully held his wrists and pulled them away from his face. “Why’re you crying?” He asked. “C’mon, Kook, what’s wrong?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“‘M sorry,” Jungkook muttered, pulling away from Namjoon and rubbing his face harshly. “I’m okay. I’m not crying.”
He totally wasn’t crying.
Namjoon pursed his lips. “Okay.”
“You’re gonna be late.”
“She can wait.” Namjoon shrugged. Okay.
“Captain Marvel won’t wait,” Jungkook retorted, sniffling loudly, causing Namjoon to smile shyly.
“Too bad, then,” Namjoon said. “Because I can’t go until we talk about this.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook sighed. “What do you wanna talk about?”
Do we have to talk at all? Jungkook wanted to ask. Can you ditch your date and stay here with me? Can we sit here and cuddle in silence? Can I kiss you again? Can you kiss me?
“Why were you—“ Namjoon began, but his phone vibrating in his back pocket interrupted him. He pulled out his phone and checked it, then looked up at Jungkook, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
“Yerim’s not coming...” Namjoon said, “her roommate found out she’s pregnant and she’s having a breakdown.”
“Ah.” Well. That’s sad. “Who’s the father?”
“Jungkook,” Namjoon snorted. “I don’t know. I don’t really care right now. Do you wanna come with me? And we can talk afterwards?”
And then Jungkook did another stupid thing that he would take full responsibility for, that’s a hundred percent his own fault. He said, without a trace of joking in his tone, “it’s a date.”
Namjoon blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, swallowing. “Talk afterwards?”
“Can I ask,” Namjoon began, and without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Is it related to earlier — the, um, good luck kiss?”
Go crazy! Go stupid!
“Yes and we can talk afterwards,” Jungkook promised. “I’m sorry, hyung.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon chuckled. “Go wash up — Captain Marvel won’t wait, right?”
It didn’t slip Jungkook’s notice the way Namjoon neither forgave him nor asked him why he was apologising. Good job, Jungkook. You truly fucked up. Again.
It was okay, though. Things were going to be okay.
“I haven’t even watched the trailer yet,” Jungkook said, walking after Namjoon. “Is the movie set in the MCU or?”
“God, you’re the one who got me into Marvel, shouldn’t you know?” Namjoon scoffed lightly, grabbing Jungkook’s free hand in his as they entered the auditorium. Jungkook didn’t respond; he just quietly followed Namjoon while staring at their hands held together.
It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary — they had held hands before. But this was different, right?
Namjoon seemed to notice Jungkook’s mental identity crisis but didn’t say anything until they reached their designated seats and sat down. “You said it’s a date,” Namjoon reminded. “But I won’t hold your hand if you don’t want me to.”
“No, no. It’s all good,” Jungkook promised, and squirmed around in his seat until he was comfortable enough. There was a border between his and Namjoon’s seats, though, so holding hands wasn’t quite comfortable but Jungkook could tolerate it.
It was worth it.
He placed the popcorn box in his lap and pulled out his phone, lowering its brightness and typing a quick text to Taehyung as the lights dimmed around him.
“Talking during a movie?” Jungkook retorted back, a grin threatening to break on his face. “Really, hyung?”
Jungkook could’ve sworn that Namjoon’s eyes glinted as he pulled away, his dimples deep and clear even in the dimmed lights.
Giving in, he smiled and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his thumb against the back of Namjoon’s hand as the Marvel logo appeared on the screen.
“Have you even watched Infinity War?”
Jungkook shushed him with a firm squeeze as the first scene began to play out.
“I’ll cry if the second after-credits scene doesn’t appear,” Jungkook said, watching as the auditorium grew emptier and emptier.
Namjoon nodded. “I’ll sue Marvel it it doesn’t. We can’t have you crying on a date with me.”
Jungkook felt hot and prayed to every single god in the skies that he wasn’t actually blushing. Every time Namjoon simply uttered the word ‘date,’ Jungkook would fucking grow hot and blush. It became a natural reflex. A Pavlov thing. An Anime Girl thing.
“Here you go again,” he mumbled.
“The whole, uh, date thing.”
“You said it’s a date,” Namjoon said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You... changed your mind?”
No. God, no.
Jungkook’s hand tightened around Namjoon’s reassuringly. “No! Just— I’m not used to it? I didn’t think you’d actually play along.”
“Play along,” Namjoon echoed.
“Go along,” Jungkook corrected. “Indulge me. I don’t know.”
“Go on a date with you,” Namjoon said. “You didn’t think I’d actually go on a date with you — hey, it’s the cat!”
“Bet she’s gonna throw up the guys she ate,” Jungkook gasped, his attention back on the screen.
“No, the tesser— see?” Namjoon said, grinning. “I told you so.”
“I thought it’d be funnier if she just vomited up a bunch of dudes,” Jungkook retorted — just as he realised that it was over. There wasn’t going to be another after-credits scene. It was actually over. “So, it’s over.”
“There won’t be a third scene?”
They were alone.
“No. Um, did you like it?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon said, turning towards Jungkook. They were still holding hands. “Did you?”
“Yeah. Carol’s a lesbian.”
“Definitely.” Namjoon smiled softly, shadows of his dimples appearing on his cheeks. “You didn’t think I’d go on a date with you.”
“No. I mean, yeah. I didn’t think you would,” Jungkook said, his voice faint.
“Well,” Namjoon hesitated. “I’m glad I did. This was fun. We should do it again... if you want?”
“We always do this,” Jungkook pointed out, even though he knew that this was different. “We always hang out.”
“We don’t go on dates. We don’t hold hands,” Namjoon said. “We don’t kiss.”
“We didn’t kiss,” Jungkook mumbled.
“You know what I mean.”
“Hm. Nope. We didn’t kiss.”
Namjoon bit his lip. “Can I kiss you?”
Fuck. Fucking hell. It took everything Jungkook had in him to let go of Namjoon’s hand and turn entirely in his seat towards him.
“Depends. Is this a one-time thing?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“No. I mean, hyung, are you just doing this whole thing because it’s what I want or is it real?” Jungkook asked again, his chest tightening yet growing lighter as all the words went out. “Are you indulging me or do you like me the way I like you?”
“I-I like you,” Namjoon said, his cheeks reddening. “You like me?”
Understatement of the year.
“A lot,” Jungkook said, letting out a huge breath. “Too fucking much. What about your crush? And Yerim?”
Namjoon grinned, covering up his face with his hands. God, what a fucking sight. He was so precious.
Jungkook pulled Namjoon’s hands away and held them. “Hyung?”
“You’re my crush,” Namjoon sighed, staring into Jungkook’s eyes. “I was talking to you about you. I thought you knew I liked you though — Taehyung told me he hinted about it to you?”
“Tae what?” Jungkook paused. “You mean — he was serious? Like, he wasn’t just saying that shit to cheer me up or whatever?”
“I don’t really know what you’re talking about...” Namjoon said. “But he never told me you liked me back. Just that you’d tell me if you did.”
Jungkook snorted. “I’m so dumb. I tried to tell you but, um, the first time you were too drunk to remember it—“
“The whale songs?”
“Never happened,” Jungkook reassured. “Second time, you thought I was tryna come out as a fucking furry.”
Namjoon grinned. “Pet play, huh?”
“Hyung,” Jungkook glared. “Third time, I tried to bring up dating so I can casually ask you out but you told me you had a crush and I backtracked instantly.”
“So you tried asking me out while drunk and when that didn’t work,” Namjoon pointed out, “you decided to ask me out in front of Jimin and Yoongi.”
“Um,” Jungkook pouted. “Well. Yeah.”
“Yoongi was sleeping. On top of you.”
Jungkook shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, the fourth time I planned to ask you out, I also backtracked because it felt, um, weird to ask you out when you came over to... ask me for advice relating to your crush. Who’s not me.”
“I get that,” Namjoon said. “I can’t believe we mocked Yoongi, Jimin, and Tae for not knowing how to communicate.”
Well. “I can’t believe this.”
“What about the kiss?” Namjoon asked. “You said it was just for good luck.”
“That’s the dumbest fucking excuse and I can’t believe you bought it,” Jungkook said, disbelief evident in his tone.
“It’s something you’d do!”
Well. Namjoon was right. “Maybe. Okay, the real reason I kissed you was because you looked so, ugh?”
“Ugh?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Like, you just looked really neat. And cute,” Jungkook explained. “I couldn’t help it!”
Namjoon grinned, still blushing. Jungkook stared at him quietly then let out a little giggle because holy fuck.
“You like me,” Jungkook said, grinning back. “You actually like me?”
“And you want to, um, date me?”
“Okay. Then we should kiss.”
Namjoon grinned. “Should we.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jungkook was completely out of it when they got kicked out of the cinema, too breathless and high on the numbness of his lips, the adrenaline rushing through his veins after he and Namjoon ran out of the cinema with their hands held, — which was completely unnecessary seeing as no one was actually chasing them or anything of the sort — and happiness. Jungkook was so fucking high on happiness.
Fuck winter blues.
And more importantly, fuck not taking responsibility.
It wasn’t winter yet, but from that autumn day, it was decided that winter was officially Jungkook’s favourite season because nothing could beat the sunlight’s warmth slipping through the cold air, the goosebumps appearing on his skin, and Namjoon’s soft hand holding his.