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wind chimes

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yoongi is a sensible, empathetic person. he pays attention to people’s body language, tone of voice, the most subtle shifts in facial expressions. he’s an observant type and proud of it, for what it’s worth. it’s even easier having lived with the person for a while already, enough time to get familiar with their very own quirks and habits, both out in public and specifically also in private, unguarded and honest. yoongi’s quite sure of his ability to read the situation right and the situation is that his roommate is upset.

the slamming of the front door was a subtle hint.

“it didn’t go well?”

“mmh?”

“your date.”

“mmh.”

jungkook lying face-down on his bed, possibly trying to choke himself with his pillow, is another one.

yoongi pokes his head further into the room, squinting over at his shape in the dim light flooding in. sometimes, jungkook seems to want to be left alone when he’s sad. sometimes— well, yoongi wishes he doesn’t.

“mm mmh mmhmm.”

jungkook mumbles into his pillow, which may or may not be directed at yoongi at all, it’s unclear. the noises at least don’t sound angry or dismissive. vaguely open to dialogue.

yoongi tries to keep it down but fondness rises up in his chest anyway, voice going all soft and careful.

“i didn’t quite catch that.”

there’s grumbling from the bed— it sounds like he’s pouting and that’s kind of cute, although he’s sad and yoongi doesn’t want him to be sad, but it’s cute— then some shifting and a heavy inhale, exhale.

“it— wasn’t a date,” jungkook is clearly pouting, “i was with jimin and taehyung.”

“ah,” and relief washes over him, unbidden, entirely inappropriate. he steps into the room, slowly making his way over to the bed. jungkook’s still in his good clothes, remnants of a light, flowery perfume around him. he’d put on a pair of pants that should, by all accounts, be forbidden. so— yoongi had assumed. that it was another date. jungkook had looked a level of good that was, well, date-level. but then, jungkook is always— date-level.

“you went out with them?”

jungkook grumbles, making increasingly despairing noises as he curls up, facing away from yoongi. yoongi could sit down, try to offer some comfort with his touch, but that’s not really his place. he’s just a roommate.

and, well, that’s the thing: yoongi is his roommate and has been watching jungkook go on date after date and return unhappy, a bit timid, and there’s really nothing yoongi can do. he wishes for jungkook to always be his happy, bright self— like when they’re cooking together, or even arguing animatedly over the arrangement of groceries in the fridge, or being lazy in front of netflix for a whole evening. no matter what jungkook does, there’s this kind, warm energy to his every word, look, touch. he is so full of feelings, no matter which kind, they just seem to spill by themselves; they fill up their tiny apartment, all the space between them and some parts of yoongi, too.

it was inevitable, really. that yoongi would feel drawn to it. the light.

jungkook, though— jungkook seems to need more than that. more than their friendship and all of this in their oppressive walls. more than yoongi has to offer. a man, sure, but not him.

so, that: that is the bottom line. they’re just roommates.

jungkook doesn’t speak and yoongi doesn’t know how to combine which words to make any kind of difference right now.

“i don’t want to date,” it comes quiet, eventually, from the tiny miserable ball of limbs on the bed. yoongi’s heart squeezes in a dangerous way. “i don’t want to date someone i don’t know.”

yoongi lets himself sit down on the edge. he should reach out, but how?

“isn’t that… how you get to know them?”

jungkook huffs, “i don’t want to get to know them. they aren’t—” he cuts himself off, frustration raising his volume. he sounds tired of trying. “…right.”

yoongi has no answer for this. opening yourself up to new people is hard and exhausting, but there’s no way around it if jungkook wants a partner. the thought of giving up is understandable, but it won’t change anything about the longing or need or loneliness. yoongi is willing to offer up more of himself, try harder within his limitations, but he’s clearly not what jungkook is looking for. and he can’t even say what exactly jungkook is looking for, what requirements or wishes the boy has, but it doesn’t matter, ultimately, because—

he reaches out slowly, hand ghosting over jungkook’s head. lets his fingers stroke down his soft hair, gently, to at least offer a little bit of comfort. thinks, embarrassingly,

—none of them are worthy of you.

jungkook doesn’t move, letting out a heavy sigh. his form relaxes, if only the slightest bit. yoongi should try harder.

“...want to come over and watch that scary show with me that you told me about?”

truthfully, yoongi wasn’t going to watch it. there is no need to in his body or soul. his laptop is open and paused on what has to be the seventh ted talk video of the night, because he really needs successful people to tell him how to get his shit together in five to ten easy steps. but. jungkook likes horror and jungkook is sad right now and so yoongi will risk a heart attack if it only lifts jungkook’s mood a little bit.

jungkook shifts to finally look at yoongi. he’s frowning, lips pursed, a slight twitch to them.

“you just want someone with muscles there to protect you.”

yoongi’s eyes flit down jungkook’s body, the crumpled black button-up that stretches dangerously around his biceps and pecs, the godforsaken skinny jeans that do not really cover anything but only reveal more muscle. yoongi raises an eyebrow at jungkook, refuses to let his own joking words hurt himself.

“is that not your role in this relationship?”

jungkook blinks at him for a moment and then he finally, hesitantly smiles. it’s a bit fragile, still, but good enough for a start. he looks off to the side, almost bashful, as if he didn’t probably have approximately 635 people swoon over his body on a bad day. it’s not what yoongi sees in him and jungkook knows as much. but still.

“guess it is.”

yoongi gets up and holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers impatiently until jungkook takes it and he pulls— with all his strength and jungkook half stumbles off the bed, almost crashes into him, chest to chest. close. jungkook’s so close, warm, is that a hint of roses in his perfume?

jungkook’s breath hitches but he’s frozen in place.

a shiver runs down yoongi’s spine at the proximity, jungkook’s hooded eyes. maybe this is too bold, but it’s just teasing, it’s just a joke. it’s a joke.

yoongi’s voice comes out hoarse.

“so come protect me.”





“well, you’re shit at protecting me.”

jungkook only grins at him from the side, lopsided, before he takes another swig of beer. his lips glisten around the opening of the bottle, then his adam’s apple bobs once, twice as he swallows. focusing back on the screen takes about all the willpower yoongi has in him. it’s either terrifying ghosts and spirits or— yoongi’s own death, maybe, if he stares at jungkook for too long. sometimes his chest fills up and swells so much with things he might just combust.

yoongi draws his shoulders up, arms close, pushing against jungkook the slightest bit.

“at least warn me of the jumpscares.”

maybe it was a bad idea.

they settled on yoongi’s bed, huddled together, legs stretched out along the length of it. yoongi’s laptop sits on top of his tiny desk right at the foot of the bed and the screen is a bit small at this distance but neither wanted it on their lap. at least jungkook brought his beloved bluetooth speakers.

the scary parts are still scary to watch even at this distance, so maybe it’s not far enough yet.

jungkook pressed to his side, every single movement affecting yoongi’s own body, makes goosebumps crawl over his skin for very different reasons. jungkook’s been fidgeting the entire time, unable to get comfortable and yoongi almost apologized for his tiny bed, but really— regret isn’t what’s on his mind.

they’ve had a few beers and it’s not enough to get drunk off of but there’s a tingling somewhere in yoongi’s gut, a vague restlessness in his limbs only amplified by the shuffling at his side. he shifts his weight against jungkook, a gentle nudge to his shoulder. jungkook nudges back after a moment, fiddling with his drink.

“if you don’t feel like watching it, we don’t have to. i thought—”

“if you are too scared, you can just admit it.”

yoongi half-heartedly aims his elbow at jungkook, but jungkook only giggles.

“seriously, i just thought you might like this. if you don’t, there’s no point.”

it’s not even that yoongi hates the show. it’s alright and offers a lot more story and character-driven drama than it does scary heart attack inducing scares, which he’s thankful for. he’d probably like it a lot if he sat down to watch it seriously by himself. as it stands, the situation he’s in turned out to be a little too distracting for that.

“i do like this.”

jungkook’s voice is quiet and private and yoongi’s heart leaps up into his throat.

the beer bottle gets abandoned on the nightstand, next to the other empty ones, and then jungkook shoves his restless hands beneath the blanket.

“i like the show.”

and then yoongi’s heart falls back down and slams onto the ground and shatters and he dies.

breathe in breathe out breathe in breathe out just like that that’s good he can do that, it’s fine.

“must be nice.” jungkook draws his knees up and yoongi refocuses on where he physically is and what is going on. which he isn’t sure about.

“what?”

he catches jungkook glaring at the screen; there’s two characters kissing. yoongi snorts. he doesn’t mean to, he’s not laughing at it, it’s just that— jungkook pouting is endearing, and so.

“sorry—”

“i just mean—”

jungkook straightens his back, getting ready to fight. his cheeks take on a little pink tint within seconds, though.

“it’d be nice to have someone around that— that you like, and you can hang out with, and that understands you, and like. you can kiss— and stuff. kissing is nice.”

he draws his shoulders up, arms close to his chest, brows furrowed at the laptop.

yoongi presses his shoulder against jungkook’s, something bittersweet on the tip of his tongue.

“it’s okay, i get it. you’re right.”

“right? i’m just saying,” his mouth curves downward in exaggeration, voice rising with enthusiasm, “why can’t i get kisses when i need them?”

there might be something yoongi has to say about that, but he focuses on the small laptop screen instead, the folds of his blanket covering them both, the giant metaphorical knife stuck in his chest, biting the inside of his cheek. jungkook shifts next to him.

“we should make out.”

he almost breaks his neck whipping his head around.

“what?” his voice does break, though.

there’s a faint blush around jungkook’s nose but his furrowed brows make him look so serious, maybe yoongi misheard. surely he misheard.

“i mean— it’s nice, right? kissing? everyone deserves to be kissed. if they’re into that. are you?”

jungkook leans towards yoongi, eyes unyielding, and yoongi leans back on instinct, brain only going at half-speed, maximum. jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, plump and pretty.

“i—” it’s hard to get his voice to work, somehow, when jungkook lets his lip slide out from between his teeth again, “guess so?” the words don’t register fully, thoughts all melting on jungkook’s lip, light catching on it, it looks so nice. “it’s— nice.”

“right? life’s hard and we’re sad adults. why shouldn’t we get kisses whenever we want? we should.”

his lips move with his words, teeth flashing every now and then, a bit of an overbite to them but so right— when he grins, laughs, when they’re all on full display because he feels too much joy to contain with just one body, he has to share it with whoever’s lucky enough to be near. how lucky yoongi would be, to always be near.

jungkook’s mouth stops moving, a pout to those pretty lips. how lucky yoongi would be, to kiss them just once. how unfair the mole beneath them is, catching yoongi’s attention in the most inappropriate of times.

getting something when you want it, yeah, that sounds nice.

“if you put it that way—”

it makes sense.

“when was the last time?” jungkook wets his lips, bites down on it again. he’s so close, when did he get here? his eyes kind of sparkle, his smell is so sweet. “that you kissed someone?”

yoongi’s head is all static noise, black and white chaos, a distant scream of panic muffled by his own heartbeat in his ears. has he ever kissed someone? probably. the memory is missing.

“it’s— been a while.”

“yeah?”

jungkook’s breath tickles on yoongi’s skin, warm, a weak staccato, “we could—”

he’s inching closer, closer, yoongi could stop him could run away could be a coward and regret it forever and never get a chance again and why not. why not?

“we could.”

jungkook’s eyelids flutter a little, shut gently, he’s so close and his lips are right there and they part and yoongi’s vision goes dark.

warmth meets his lips, so gently, a careful press to say hello and yoongi presses back with a heavy sigh, excitement and relief washing over him and oh my god, hi, finally.

a hand touches his chest, curls in his shirt and oh, it all goes downhill from there.

yoongi brings a hand up to jungkook’s jaw, sharp and attractive and just right in his hold, greedy for more contact, more warmth. jungkook’s lips are so soft on his, push and pull just right, quiet pleased noises muffled between them.

nice is an offensive understatement for this. staying in on a friday night is nice, randomly finding some change you forgot in a pocket is nice. this is more of a hey, you just won the goddamn lottery.

jungkook’s lips fit between yoongi’s so well, they should’ve done this sooner. he hums and sighs and stutters on his exhale when yoongi kisses along his bottom lip, to the corner of his mouth, to the mole under it, his fingers digging into yoongi’s side, finally, finally.

he’s not supposed to be lonely, or unhappy, or unkissed if he doesn’t want to be. he deserves everything, all the good things, anything can yoongi offer.

when yoongi parts his lips jungkook follows, lets yoongi lick into his mouth and caress his tongue and he whines, beautifully, one of them does, it’s all a little unclear, a little intoxicating, heat low in his gut.

then there’s greed, pounding against his ribs.

it’s just kissing, they’re just lonely. jungkook doesn’t know what this means to him.

yoongi draws back the tiniest bit, jungkook’s mouth so good but so damning, it’s a bad idea.

“jungkook—”

it’s quiet, not stern at all but needy instead, gets lost in their mingled breath, jungkook’s teeth so tempting on yoongi’s bottom lip he can’t not take another kiss, another— he forces himself to lean back.

jungkook follows, hands searing even over his clothes, pulling on his shirt, his side, set off another surge of heat when one settles on yoongi’s hip. jungkook’s body is heavy and eager, all but pushing yoongi further into his pillow, down, and he complies, lets jungkook lean over him.

“jungkook. kook—”

there are no other words besides that on his tongue, only jungkook, it might be a bit of a problem. a bit much of a problem.

“hyung.”

jungkook sounds heavenly, pleading. he leaves yoongi’s mouth to kiss along his jaw, beneath his ear, down his neck and all on yoongi’s mind is jungkook’s mouth, lips, a tone to his voice yoongi’s never been allowed to hear before.

his leg slides over yoongi’s beneath the blanket, thigh thick and distracting and getting so close, arousal shoots up through his gut and out his throat and yoongi groans between them.

“fuck—”

boyfriend. jungkook’s boyfriend would be allowed. jungkook wants a boyfriend. yoongi is his roommate.

“fuck, wait. hold on—”

yoongi pushes against his shoulders, gentle but firm. jungkook’s mouth leaves his skin and it tingles and the craving to have it back hits with unreasonable force.

“hold on. what—”

“sorry, i just,” jungkook pulls back to hover above him, eyes wide, hand over yoongi’s hip but not touching anymore. “sorry, did you not like it?”

yoongi finds himself reaching up to touch jungkook’s quickly rising and falling chest, just a little, to either keep a safe distance or hold on and keep him from leaving and maybe pull him back down. theoretically, in a fantasy, he could.

“it’s okay, i did, i just— don’t think i understand. what this is.”

jungkook bats his lashes at him, eyes the prettiest shape, the brightest gaze. but right now it’s unsure and questioning, all over yoongi’s face, a crease between his brows.

color blossoms on his cheeks, a bit and a bit more, a hint of rose gold on his skin.

“...is it not obvious? what this is.”

“i mean,” it’s such a tempting sight, yoongi wills himself not to stare, but everything in him is yelling at him to stare more, more carefully, every second is precious. he won’t see jungkook like this again. “i get that we’ve both been single for a while and this is really very nice—”

yoongi could cup his rosy cheeks and kiss his reddened lips again and whisper that it’s okay, as long as jungkook feels good and is happy it’s okay, yoongi will do whatever. but. the damn but—

“but i— i’m not sure a hookup is a good idea,” his mouth says that but his fingers curl in jungkook’s shirt the slightest bit and isn’t he such an idiot? “maybe we shouldn’t—ow.”

“you’re an idiot.”

“…did you just headbutt me in the ribs?”

jungkook raises his head and fixes yoongi with a glare, still flushed around the nose and lips pursed.

“jesus fucking christ.”

yoongi presses himself back into the mattress, hand to his chest, struggling to keep up. jungkook rarely swears.

“what did i do—”

“i like you.”

yoongi’s breath catches in his throat. hold on, pause.

“this is me being obvious about liking you.”

the words echo in yoongi’s head for a bit, but don’t start to make any more sense.

“wh…at.”

jungkook half sighs, half groans and sits up properly, too far from yoongi, raises one hand to rub over his face.

“i want to kiss you because i like you. i want to hang out so much because i like you. i don’t want to date someone, i want to date you.”

jungkook says it like it’s obvious, something yoongi should already know and not, like, the nastiest worst curveball in the history of curveballs that hits you in the head and you black out for two hours and wake up in, shit, who knows, heaven maybe. something like that.

yoongi can’t say for sure that he didn’t hit his head two hours ago and imagine all of this.

“but… you’ve been going out and— on dates and—”

“ugh, god, i told him—”

jungkook hides his faces in both hands, voice muffled but rising with frustration.

“jimin was like, oh, dress up nicely, oh, show him you’re sought after, whatever the fuck that even means,” his shoulders rise and his arms tighten around him and he’d seem almost pitiful if not for the indignance in his voice. “oh, he’ll notice. i don’t even know what exactly i wanted you to notice but you never do and i get it, you’re not—”

“i do.”

it’s a lot to process on one calm friday night, sure, but this is something yoongi doesn’t have to think about, doesn’t bother to swallow down for once.

“i always notice you.”

jungkook drops his hands, shoulders sagging, not seriously upset as much as— tired. his eyes fly up to the ceiling, jaw tense.

“not like— not the way that i—”

yoongi touches a hand to jungkook’s side, careful, careful, drawing his attention. such bright eyes and such useless self-doubt in them.

“i’ve always seen you that way.”

jungkook’s eyes widen, gaze way too intense for yoongi to bear usually and his heart is pounding too hard too fast inside his chest but— jungkook can’t be left to think such nonsense. what world is there in which yoongi doesn’t fall head over heels for him? none. zero, null, there is none, it’s unthinkable.

“this is me being obvious about liking you.”

he tightens his grip on jungkook’s side, pressure meant to be reaffirming, calming. jungkook exhales long and slow.

“so you… the entire time—”

“i didn’t— i mean, it’s not like i had ulterior motives when i offered you the room and i honestly like hanging out with you as a friend, i never—mh.”

jungkook’s lips are soft and wonderful, a hand on yoongi’s chest, up up to his neck and jungkook’s curling his body over yoongi’s again, closer, he’s finally back.

“so you’re saying,” he pulls back only a bit, never enough to lose contact, before he presses another kiss to yoongi’s mouth, and another and another, “we could’ve been doing this the entire time, that’s what you’re telling me—”

yoongi’s face is too warm with mild embarrassment and jungkook’s hands on his cheeks and the rush of happiness everywhere in his body, filling his lungs, tightening his hold on jungkook.

“don’t think about it now.”

jungkook’s breath hitches when yoongi gently bites at his lip, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath his jaw, it’s all so much but yoongi needs more of everything, right now.

“oh my god, hyung, all this time—”

he tries to sound stern and pout and kiss yoongi back at the same time and in the end he just giggles, a bright wind chime tinkling, then more, then he laughs— wide and toothy and his eyes turn to crescents and he’s so beautiful. he’s the most beautiful like this, happy.

yoongi stares, chest warm and full and jungkook catches his gaze, smile fading to a soft smile, it’s so pretty, he reaches out.

“c’mere.”

jungkook leans back in, yoongi’s hand in his hair, gentle and slow, savoring it for a while. then he shifts closer, eager, presses himself against yoongi again, hips to hips, makes yoongi falter in the middle of the kiss.

“well then,” he licks his lips, a cheeky curve to his mouth— yoongi is so not prepared for this.

“lots of things to catch up on, hyung.”

he smiles and leans back down and they kiss and kiss more and again and really, this should come as no surprise. jungkook’s always been kind of breathtaking, one way or the other.