Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

There is something special about discovering a person. In one of those novels he stole from Hoseok, Jeongguk had read all about first love and the way it could feel. The author had written about meeting a person you knew you could fall in love with. When all that mattered was finding out as much about them as possible to convince your brain of what your heart was already sure about. This is the person, it said. And to prove that without a doubt, you had to ensure you both loved mint chocolate ice cream and claw machines at arcades. Hence, started the texts. The endless calls, quick glimpses, double turns to check if their shawl was the exact shade of cobalt blue you’d waxed eloquent about over a fortnight ago.

But then, the author wrote, that wasn’t the only thing that was special about feeling like you could love a person. They spoke about how sometimes you’d rediscover and learn anew about souls you already knew. Which led to Jeongguk reading about a person’s colours bleeding into another’s. How someone’s shade of yellow became more of an orange after meeting your reds. How you’d know the shortbread they’d begun to love because you kept finding the crumbs on your sofa, and not because you got told about it. The way you knew how their lip turned up just so when you rambled about your day, and the manner in which you’d be very, very well acquainted with how they pressed their body to yours when trying to prolong a hug.

He’d had to stop reading there. Jeongguk hadn’t had the luxury of either discovering or rediscovering a person. He barely had the time to know their names, and at 22 — at the very cusp of youth — with every single hour being spent with his hyungs, the only thing he could possibly rediscover was Jin hyung’s wrath when he made a mess at the dining table, Hoseok hyung’s displeasure when he didn’t clean up fast enough, Jimin’s giggles when he was picked up in the middle of dance practice, and how Yoongi hyung would look when it was cold and late and he had dragged them out for lamb skewers but grabbed the first one all for himself.  

After all of this, the author had the gall to continue; as if Jeongguk’s life hadn’t been altered irreversibly, would you know that this was something meant to last.

He’d worried for a few days after finishing the novel. How was he supposed to give something so much time? He could never wait for someone to eat enough shortbread on his couch without Dispatch catching wind of it, and even if he felt those all-special tingles at the sight of a person, he couldn’t just approach them. That would go well; “ BTS Jeon Jeongguk caught accosting person wearing an all-black outfit on the road claiming they could be soulmates.”

No thank you. The author must have been wrong. However, the alternative would be possibly never finding someone to be with. If he didn’t take a chance on a stranger, and he was around the same 11 people throughout the year, how would anything work out for him? Was Sejin hyung an option? He remembers slight butterflies when the manager first smiled at him, but that seems like an unlikely match. Maybe he’d just rediscover a person in a new light. Mingyu had seemed cuter lately. 

*

It wasn’t comeback season yet so they could all afford a lie-in every second day and most of them took full advantage of that. Seokjin especially, decided to use the free time given to hone some of the culinary skills his mom had taught him last break. He didn’t make proper meals regularly of course, but every now and then the early sparrow could spy him tinkering away in their kitchen while it foraged for its own food. Jeongguk found himself at the kitchen table too, spooning through his cereal languorously, hoping the muffins would be done before he finished his breakfast. He kept his hyung company by occasionally narrating some new game he thought they both could check out, although they both played completely different styles of video games, their enthusiasm was pretty similar. The oven dinged — signaling the need for rapt attention and the automatic rounding of already round eyes when —

“Go wake up Yoongi,” Seokjin called out distractedly, back towards him and head practically inside the oven.

This was betrayal like nothing before. HE was up with his hyung keeping him company as he baked the chocolate-chip muffins. HE had suggested it in a whisper a few days ago. And YOONGI gets to enjoy the treats first? Jeonnguk could smell the waft of the freshly baked pastries, and just as he was pulling out a tear at will Jin continued, “the cupcakes don’t seem to have all baked fully and I wonder if it is heating unevenly, I…” He paused. Turned around and squinted at Jeongguk sitting there mid-dramatic tear, “why are you still here? GO! I need Yoongi.”

Jeongguk scampered off to the bedroom the eldest hyungs shared, hesitating for a second before opening the door. It’s not that he was afraid was his tiny (second-most) hyung and he’d also grown out of the mild case of hero-worship he’d had a few years ago. Nothing alike the scale on which his puppy love for Namjoon existed, but he figured you didn’t really hear bells twice. He still hesitated. Something in him made him take an extra moment before turning the doorknob and it was way too early to think about planetary alignments and the stars and the like, and yet.

It was as if a part of him already knew things were about to change, he just couldn’t envisage which way, or to what extent.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he peeked into the brightly-lit room. The rays of morning light hadn’t managed to embrace the entire area, but were doing a very good job towards the center of the room, a foot away from the bed. He woke Yoongi the way he usually did. By calling out his name from the doorway and gauging if it was safe to come and shake him a bit if required. The pile of blankets on the left side of the bed didn’t move an inch, so he figured he’d have to get a little up close and personal today. No big deal. This hyung tended to be soft on him. Mostly. At least, that’s what the Twitter slow-mo videos he watched at times showed him and as a ’97 liner, he trusted the internet.

Hand reaching out to where he hoped was a shoulder, “Yoongi hyung, hyung, hyungniiimm,” his voice disturbed the peace that had enveloped the room, as he softly but insistently tried to shake the other awake. Before he could start the litany again, the blanket was pulled down by one disgruntled rapper, eyes too crusted over to glare but doing a decent job, considering. He had on his usual all-black attire and seemed to be a little more disoriented today. The early hour was not his favourite, but it was one where he seemed to look the prettiest. (In Jeongguk’s humble opinion). He quickly rattled off Jin’s grouse, waiting quietly for a response from the other and not throwing himself onto the bed as he would have with any of the others. Yoongi grunted out an affirmative, shuddering forcefully as his feet touched the cold floor. He quickly grabbed the blanket from atop the bed and wrapped it around his slim frame, almost ready to fight the world.

Jeongguk kept watching the fascinating process of his hyung wake up enough to react to stimuli. None of his reactions were exaggerated unless they had a crowd to entertain. A loud noise would bring forth a slight grimace, snazzy lights maybe a nose wrinkle. He didn’t know what kept him rooted to the floor, what was making him trace over every minute gesture as if to imprint it upon his memory, keep it safe from the cacophony of existence. Yoongi waddled to the door and then he was outside, leaving Jeongguk in the middle of the room, still in a stupor. 

Somewhere in the distance, a string quartet played discordantly. The ray of light, so jarring earlier, seemed to become gentler as it caressed Yoongi’s cheek. He thought about how, had he hugged Yoongi like he’d wanted to, the other would have been a little malleable, a lot warm.

If only for an instant, the sun had thrown into sharp relief the cowlick Yoongi always sported in the morning. That knowledge too, was his already. But why did the feelings arising from it today make him pause longer? Jeongguk sat down on the bed in a huff, trying to puzzle out why his brain was throwing old observations at him in a new light. How everything familiar about Yoongi seemed to have changed just enough to tilt his world on its axis.

Pinching himself to get back into reality, he left the room and made his way into the kitchen, to where Jin and Yoongi stood side by side, peering into a manual. He was about to take his breakfast bowl and slink away when that same strange feeling made him stare at Yoongi a little harder again. The string quartet was louder now. Harsh kitchen lights did nobody any favours the way natural light did, and yet...

There were tweets. So many of them. 

Tens and hundreds of names blurring together, all saying variations of the same thing. 와 우리 윤기씨 좀 무섭네용 or, “Our Yoongi is so scary.” The rapper had seen them, they knew he had, and the cheer on his face, the exuberance that was born out of doing what he was born to had dulled a little bit. It was hard for any of them to showcase their personalities in all its truth and falsity, but Yoongi had it harder, for he’d had to hide vast pieces for himself for far longer. Jeongguk remembered a time when he was too afraid to take up any space when with them. He was convinced the smaller he’d make himself, the easier it’d be for them to allow him to share some of their warmth, some of their goodness.

Yoongi had been the opposite. He’d walk into a room and fill so much of it you’d forget how it was like before. But he was never abrasive about it. And 15 year old Jeongguk knew that, so why couldn’t their fans see it? The only thing scary about Yoongi was his ability to love you so fiercely you’d be spoilt for any other love ever given to you.

Jeongguk didn’t even know why he was thinking about this now. The memories crept upon him at a glacial pace and his cereal lay abandoned at the table. He rubbed his eyes, just because. Once, twice. They weren’t the part of him hurting. He worried for a second that he was getting into another of his anxious fugues where his brain yanked up whatever memory or sensation it thought would be most painful and displayed it in HD, but that wasn't how this felt.

It started with a tingling in his toes, a hasty breath taken to fill lungs too tight all of a sudden. He could see Yoongi's pale hands that were now fiddling with various knobs, the light fixtures he always moaned about serving to highlight the veins beneath his pale skin. Standing out. As he always did to Jeongguk. In a kitchen, on a road, in front of the hotteok stand, tone more syrupy than anything the ahjumma could ever create.

He couldn’t even believe how he wasn’t fighting this. This tug. Jeongguk had looked at Yoongi a million times before this, would continue looking at him a million times after, but somehow it was as if this was the first time he was noticing how beautiful the man was. There was a pulling of his chest as if someone dug hooks into it and yanked just enough to make him notice it. But not enough to make it hurt. Never that when it came to Yoongi.

He left the dining room in a daze and just walked around aimlessly. Did he find Yoongi attractive then? Was this a thing now? But he'd always found the older rapper stunning, so why was he fixated upon the fact this time?

Jeongguk found himself outside Taehyung’s door. He shared a fucking beautiful relationship with all of his hyungs and he’d fight anyone who insinuated otherwise, but he couldn’t deny the immediate outpour of warmth he felt whenever he was with Taehyung. And given the morning he was having, he believed he deserved some extra coddling. Flopping onto another bed for the second time today, he let his youngest hyung wrap his arms all around him, warm breath on his nape.

“Gukkie?” Taehyung blinked blearily, “is something the matter?” He bit his lip, not knowing what to say, so he just shook his head slightly, rubbed his nose onto the other’s chest. Taehyung breathed out a laugh before tugging closer, urging him to close his eyes and sleep in a bit.

So he did that. Closed his eyes. And still saw Yoongi. He could easily spend the rest of life observing Min Yoongi under different lights. Given a chance, he suddenly thought that he could easily fall in love with him. The hook tugged a little sharply.

And oh... 

maybe he already had.

*

Having spent the majority of his growing years in the spotlight and then some, Jeongguk believed that he was somewhat an authority on how things were backstage. Why then, even after hundreds of performances, were they unable to organize their costumes in a way that jackets could be found on time? He could not find fault with their support staff because he knew how vigilant they were in ensuring all the racks and clothes’ stands were how they required it to be, but 50 people in a room meant to hold 10 always ended in chaos.

He side-eyed Namjoon jumping to the ground to get in one quick set of Pilates before it was go time, Jimin was still sorting through the rings he wanted to wear for his solo stage, Jin had disappeared somewhere with one of the makeup noonas to get his hair set, Tae was — wait what?

He spied a pale, unclothed torso and gasped before he could catch himself, whirling around to meet a very surprised, slightly sneaky Yoongi. With what must have clearly been his iron will at play, Jeongguk kept his eyes on his hyung’s face and face only. But if he accidentally noticed the definition just beginning to appear on Yoongi’s chest, and if his gaze had been drawn towards a happy trail, (aptly named so; it made him very happy), well there was nobody there to catch him, was there?

Yoongi himself seemed too flustered to meet the younger’s eyes, muttering curses about how it was cold and he couldn’t find his vest, before snatching up a piece of fabric to hide behind. Jeongguk wanted to point out that that was definitely not what they were supposed to wear for the entry song.

But more than that.

Jeongguk wanted to touch. He didn’t know why he wasn’t giving in to the urge. It was Yoongi himself who’d given him the title of a golden retriever, years ago, when he got buffer than most of his hyungs and his body still couldn’t contain the boundless energy and enthusiasm he had for most things. He remembers feeling this way all those months ago too, when his feelings for his second-oldest hyung had first changed. Then too, he’d held back, as if some unseen force wanted him to, for once, look before leaping.
It was only the thought of what could be, if he let it grow slowly, that made him step aside quietly again. 

A sapling would find it really hard to withstand a gale unless its roots were particularly strong. Jeongguk didn’t know if it was so just yet, but he was closer to finding out with each passing day.

The second half of the concert at Osaka was even crazier. They were close enough to home to not feel like complete fishes out of water, which always helped them be a little at ease, but the set this time was insane and Jeongguk was this close to going nuts. It wasn’t misplaced jackets or a difficult setlist though, no, the fault here was with one hyung alone. Or two, if he was being brutally honest.

There was this part in Fake Love where Yoongi and Jeongguk held hands, and Jin had been splashing the members with water during the medley, making him fall onto the rapper instead, arms wound tightly around his waist.

(Not much scared Yoongi, but enthusiastic PDA was right up there with the worst of it. Taehyung was working on that.)

Back to the topic, Jeongguk mournfully thought about how he could probably never perform Fake Love again without recalling this moment. They’d jumped apart on stage. Cheeks red, voice trembling just enough for the other to notice. He cringed remembering it, promising to himself that he’d suppress it. Someone called for him from another corner, and he rejoined the rest of the members as they watched Hoseok’s solo onstage.

The energy in the room was frantic, as usual, but there was this muted awe there too. They always got like this in the middle of the concert, where they were given a second to look up and realize how many thousands were in one place to see them. 

13 year old Jeongguk had been very, very brave, and had taken a chance on himself. But 24 year old Jeongguk knew how lucky they were that fate decided to propel those fleeting moments of courage into something that would build into a lot more than just him.

When getting in and out of the tight leather pants, exchanging one necklace for another, and hurriedly having the smokey eyeshadow touched up, it was easy to forget just how lucky they all were. His skin was much more battle hardened now, his hair a lot like straw, his smile too practiced. But then he’d walk out and see the sheer splendor crafted just for him, the love that was a tangible thing, the adulation he could taste in the air, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around every single fan who’d traveled from far and wide to actually pay them to indulge in their passion. What a wild concept.

The ending notes of Hoseok’s song played, signaling the need for the others to move to their final positions on the mobile stage again. All set to lay their souls bare one last time this evening, to help someone feel, if even for a moment, that they’d never be alone in this gigantic quagmire of constant and utter bullshit.

A mere half hour from that sentiment found them standing on stage waving to the ending notes of the setlist’s last song. They’d become a bit wary since Wembley, not knowing when the management and audience would decide to attack them with feelings they were most certainly not equipped to deal with. But he was fairly certain that all that would happen after this performance was him realizing why he loved Namjoon and his perfectly chosen words.

True to form, that’s exactly what happened. He was in the middle of listening to Namjoon say something deceptively simple, when he heard a soft laugh from his right. Turning around to look at Yoongi, he flicked his hyung’s sleeve once. Gently. Always looking to touch. “That’s not overwhelming you?”

“I helped him practice this around 10 times last night Kook-ah,” the hyung in question said amusedly. “I just find it really funny how you look at him whenever he says something like this.”

And — what? How he looks? Jeongguk frowned gently, hoping for more of an explanation, since the ment was mostly done and they’d now just wave to the audience for a bit before it was curtains down.

Yoongi shuffled closer to him before indulging his unspoken request.

“It’s just…you look like you’re discovering the world anew.” He said at last. “You’ve always looked at Joon-ah as if he was something miraculous, but I don’t think you even realize how borderline worshipful your expression gets at times. Your mouth gets rounder and you cease all motion and all your considerable attention, is on him. And..” he scoffs, “it’s not like I’m staring at you or something because I’m not. You just happen to be in the camera frame every now and then so I kinda get a look at you on the big screen…” he paused, “but your eyes Jeongguk. A million army bombs blinking back at us and all of them reflected in your eyes. It’s hard to look away.”

And the question was never if he could fall in love with a friend. In fact, Jeongguk could argue that it was easier to fall in love with a friend because you already liked the person they were. No, the scary part was what did one do after falling in love with a friend.

Yoongi moved away before he could respond. Did his waddle-run to where Taehyung was, who gladly draped himself over their tiny hyung. Grabbed his arm and waved it wildly in the air, much to Army’s deafening appreciation. But maybe it’s good he moved away. Because had he not, Jeongguk couldn’t have seen the way the purple lights from below glinted off the sequins on his t-shirt. He might have missed how even in this brightly lit stadium, his hyung’s smile was incandescent. 

Skin sweaty due to the sheer amount of jumping around they’d all been doing, strands falling just right on his face, it was bizarre how despite the thick layer of makeup, the sweat, the jewelry, despite being lit by so many different kinds of lights from various angles, all he could notice was the fire within his hyung that roared brighter than ever. 

It had been a year already, and he was now realizing that he might just be at a real risk of being burnt.

*

In a friendship, both parties usually have an unspoken agreement to never make things awkward by introducing non-platonic feelings of any kind, so like for example, if a friend wants to depend on him to touch their pec to check if one’s bigger than the other, or their crotches end up touching when they hug, it does not become weird. The questions and answers get murkier if one falls for someone who’s substituted for a guardian-figure every now and then in the recent years. Jeongguk flipped through his memories of the past to ascertain how exactly to categorize this. This being an influx of feelings for one hyung in particular that had just gotten stronger as the months went by. It’s a good thing he never exactly hero-worshipped Yoongi.

Welp , he’d been trying to not think the name out loud, but oh well.

Jeongguk used to think he must love loudly for it to be considered enough. He was 10 when he watched Titanic for the first time, with his eomma, appa, and hyung. Junghyun had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, not really caring for the grandiose displays of love. But he remembers staring wide-eyed at the screen, looking back at his parents and wondering if they had been enchanted by the same emotion he could see shared by the protagonists.

Shouting from rooftops wasn’t the only way to be loud. Jeongguk had always put more stock in gestures — in bridal carries, kisses with feet dangling in the air…but his love, now as it stood, was more suited to whispers. He had had to reconcile himself to this. To knowing, that even if he overcame the million and one obstacles in place, the biggest one being if his feelings even reciprocated, he could share this with nobody.

Strangers on the road would get to buy brightly-wrapped chocolates on White Day, they would get to give meaning to red ribbons, he would be witness to countless rings slipped in glasses of champagne and the applause for two individuals for sharing their moment with a roomful of people united in happiness for their future.

But he might have to mutter words of comfort into hair lest they be overheard, steal every moment worth cherishing, pick and choose which moment did the kiss HAVE to be given, because they could never have too many. He had had to relearn and rediscover how to love quietly instead.

Jeongguk bit his nail anxiously, even as his leg practically vibrated at the speed with which his brain kept throwing up question after question. He spent a lot of time worrying about what his fans and the general public, including BigHit management thought of him. He also kept in mind his parents, his hyung, his hyung’s best friends, Jin hyung’s entire family, the ’97-liner chat, and Gurem. Yoongi had printed out a Tumblr post on his wall said one must always be the person their dog thinks they are. He hadn’t had a heart-to-heart with Gurem in a long time, but should the opportunity ever rise in the future, he’d like to be able to converse with his head held high. It was 2:30 am, and he was sure he was the only one still tossing and turning in his bed.

The dorm was quiet otherwise, with nobody feeling inclined to watch a movie into the early hours of the night, or no heart-to-heart necessitated by any occurrence in any of their lives. He tried scrolling through his social media apps for a bit, wondering if he wanted to post a selca. But he was sure one of them would notice the time stamp on it and ask him why he was up so late all the time.

As idols, it was crucial for them to maintain their health and since the maddening hours rarely allowed them to rest, not resting when he could was a bit stupid. Despite knowing that, he sat up in bed and glanced around the room. Surely there was something he could occupy his time with?

Jeongguk had spent the better part of his teenage years trying to figure out how to exist in that liminal space between the darkest hours and dawn. These hours were as familiar to him as his own reflection, but today the usual distractions of video games, drumming out a new beat, more pushups, nothing was working. Namjoon was fond of saying time and tide waited for none but literally everything had stopped right now and he was very close to pulling out his hair.

He was just about to give up and try to go to sleep before remembering one hyung had mentioned needing to stay up till late. He held his breath as he went back and forth on the decision to call Yoongi. As much as he couldn’t get enough of spending time with the other, it wasn’t necessary the man felt the same. Yoongi was notoriously private, even among them, and Jeongguk knew that any hint that he’d be imposing his company upon the gentle rapper would devastate him.

But just like inspiration, bravery too, struck differently at that late hour. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath with him, quietly urging him to finally pick the phone.

A few rings after he’d mustered the courage. “Yoongi hyung?”

“Yes Jeongguk-ah?” his hyung’s tired drawl came over the phone. 

He clutched the phone tighter, licking his lips, “W-were you asleep? Be-because if you were, you should totally forget I called and go back to sleep…” in a quieter voice, “in fact…it is later than I realized and I’m keeping the-“ 

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi sighed. Always patient, always gentle with his youngest dongsaeng. “I wasn’t asleep and I didn’t intend to go to bed. I have to tweak this track I’m working on before I can show it to Namjoon. Do you want to come to the studio? Hyung has some chicken left over from dinner he doesn’t know what to do with.”

“You want me to come over for chicken?” Jeongguk asked, still unsure lines weren’t being crossed.

He hadn’t always been so unsure with his hyungs, definitely not with Yoongi hyung, who was his only hope for fellow introversion solidarity on most days. But his heart had spoilt that for him. He wanted to be around Yoongi hyung at all times, he wanted to drink in every syllable wrapped around the man’s tongue, wanted to see the world through his eyes, wanted to taste his pleasure in any way he’d get. Jeongguk had hoped his feelings for his bandmate would die out eventually. He had gradually gotten over his puppy love for Namjoon and had well been done with the giggles every time Hoseok crooned his name back to him. 

But if he took some time to introspect, (which, no thank you, because he’d introspect in circles and be bitter and anxious and the members would probably hate him and he’d no longer get to hang out with Jimin and Taehyung and argue over the remote with Jin and be BTS Jeongguk and nothing was ever worth that) , he’d have known that this wasn’t a crush. This tug of war was just the realization of feelings that had always been there, in the gangly, bone-tired body of his.

He often wondered how Yoongi saw him. Sometimes his hyung’s eyes would linger for a second too long on his back in the gym. He’d feel Yoongi gently combing through the knots in his hair when he fell asleep on the couch, cool breath on his skin as Yoongi told him he’d done well.

There was this one time, a few months ago, when Jeongguk had sprained his toe. He had been too forceful while practicing a move and Jin claims he still hears Jeongguk’s shout of pain in his nightmares. He’d reply weakly to every exaggerated word of caution from the oldest immediately after the incident, batting away the concern with a smile. 

But one person whose concern he couldn’t bat away was Yoongi’s. The second oldest had taken it upon himself to be his shadow, albeit a shadow as if the sun always was at 12 noon. (Because he’s tiny, get it?) He was there to wake him up, nevermind the man’s own abysmal REM cycle. He’d been there when Jeongguk stared at Jimin, Hoseok, and Tae enviously as they goofed around by doing complex footwork. He was also there after the rest of them left the practice room and Jeongguk declared he wanted to sit there for a minute more and would join them in the lounge later. He’d been staring unseeingly at the mirror when Yoongi shuffled back in. 

His hyung claimed to have been too tired of the exuberance outside and needing of the silence.

 And maybe he’d never know who was really helping whom, he thinks as he looks back. Maybe that had never been the question .

Jeongguk took in a breath that felt too loud in that moment but just as the silence stretched longer than the high note he’d practiced earlier — “I’ll be there hyung, we can eat the chicken together and maybe I could help with the song. See you in 20!”

He cut the call with clammy hands, padding over to the closet to grab the nearest coat to make the short walk from their dorms to the offices. He’d have to leave a note for Jin, who would probably wake up before they returned and panic if he saw the empty bed. Yoongi was less likely to be worried about, being that he was a whole adult™ and a night owl if anyone ever saw one, but he knew he was still looked at like the baby. Hoseok and Jin had taken to hovering a little more these days, maybe because of the confession that he might never have the suave confidence his hyungs seemed to. But he hadn’t known what to say when they called him out for sulking, and the truth was easier to blurt out. 

He made the short journey from their dorms, reveling in how everything always seemed better at night. Fingers hovering in the air poised over the Genius Lab keypad, Jeongguk couldn’t help but reconsider everything one last time,

Taking one last fortifying breath (a lie, he may have taken 5-6 deep breaths) he keyed in the code with no little smugness. Jeongguk entered the studio mid-cackle, thinking about how Jin had thrown an extremely loud, extremely put-on tantrum on realizing that his Yoongichi had given the password to Jeongguk. Tae and Jimin had batted their eyelashes and pouted to no avail, while the 94-line had remained suspiciously silent. Except that one eyebrow raise Namjoon hyung had given Yoongi, to which he’d growled like a very small, very adorable kitten.

Speaking of – he raised his eyes to see the tiny, squishable portion of the beanie his hyung had been wearing that day peek from behind the chair.

He walked over as quietly as he could, eager to maintain the sacredness that clung to him in gentle wisps that night. Jeongguk would deny it in a heartbeat if he was every asked, but while he loved all his hyungs to the moon and back and would die for all of them or even bench press the entirety of a country in a day, the way he felt for Yoongi would enable him to bench press two countries in a day.

“Jeongguk that you?”

He didn’t know what to do with all these emotions. He didn’t have the words yet to cover them as skillfully as Joonie hyung did, to make a problem seem like something it was not, breadcrumbs planted so cleverly among lyrics you never understood the hunger it spoke of at first glance. If he tried to sublimate his emotions into songs, he’d just end up with a yowling rendition of himself serenading Yoongi poorly. And that was not what Yoongi deserved.

“Kook-ah?” The man in question removed his headphones and turned around to give Jeongguk a familiar smile. Worn around the edges due to tiredness, endlessly sincere.

He saw his hyung every day. He saw him brushing his teeth hurriedly in the morning, saw him patiently chopping a horrendous amount of garlic for aglio olio, observed him writing the lyrics to music only he could hear; pout formed in full force, he also got to see the transformation into Suga – sleepy eyes turning sharper, the full weight of his personality a sudden vision you couldn’t look away from.

But it was this sight he could see himself coming home to, today, 5 years from now, 10 years from now. Yoongi had twisted his chair halfway back to face the desk again, and this way his skin was lit up by the bluish glare of the screen, highlighting its pale, almost papery quality. If he had been brave enough, Jeongguk would have liked to trace the veins he could barely make out on his hyung’s neck, into the shirt that hung far too low to be considered okay. He’d first trace it with one finger, eyes following the same path till he could draw it from memory. And then, then he thinks he’d like to kiss the recently traced skin, make sure the trail was still warm to touch.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud yet. These thoughts and feelings that had taken root in some part of his heart he didn’t want to face, and maybe Jimin already knew, but he’d long since stopped questioning the smaller man’s witchcraft. Fair trade for all the doting he got, Jeongguk fully believed this.

Yoongi turned around ago with an inquisitive stare. “Come in already? Like sure you’re the golden maknae but I doubt even you could telekinetically eat the meat Jeongguk.” His chiding made Jeongguk startle and make a move finally. He wondered when he had become so jumpy. The last time was when he hadn’t come out yet, and Hoseok had come back from his date with Wooyung and asked him how his day had been. Well. Jeongguk had wanted to ask his hyung so many things, he had so many worries he kept obsessing about, but all he could think of was that Hoseok and Wooyung had probably kissed. And he wanted that for himself. 

Not with Hobi hyung and Wooyung hyung ugh no. But with someone else. Someone with rounded cheeks and a lazy drawl. Maybe even someone with dimples. Did first crushes NEVER die oh my GOD.

“Having a crush is almost like taking drugs you know,” Namjoon had mused one night after the lights were off, hours after Jeongguk had idly asked him and regretted it instantly. “I did some reading on it.”

“You? Read up on a topic? Wow hyung I cannot even waaaahh this hyung…” Namjoon had been amused by his muttering and had proceeded to tell him something about the limbic brain and impulses, finally trying to subtly enquire if someone had caught his maknae’s attention. But since he wasn’t too subtle with his fishing, Jeongguk got to keep that secret for another day.

They wolfed down the chicken, making him feel that his hyung just hadn’t wanted to eat alone. And before he could start some poor excuse for a conversation, Yoongi threw some tissues at him and said he was going back to work. Okay then. He could sit and watch. Non-creepily.

Jeongguk could hear Yoongi softly humming to himself. Changing bits, adding a layer, fiddling with software he was yet to teach the younger. Yoongi suddenly stopped and turned around, cat-eyes sharp. “Do that again.”
Jeongguk was confused for a whole second before he realized he’d been humming along. Unable to resist the way their voices sounded together. Sitting up a little straighter, he rubbed his palms on the couch, humming the tune again to an audience of one. A beat later, a much deeper voice joined him. Smoothly building to a melody he couldn’t envisage fully but knew would be perfect. Jeongguk pulled up a chair and joined Yoongi at the table, two heads always better than one. They went back and forth for a bit, recorded some roughly hummed tunes, before Jeongguk had to pause to rub his eyes viciously. Letting Yoongi glance at the tiny digits in the corner of the screen. 

“Um..Kook, what’s your schedule for today?”

Jeongguk stared at Yoongi, lips parted. He wished that for once his brain could catch up quickly but he was tired and wait — schedule. He knew this. “Nothing too hectic. I just have to record a guide and then Jimin hyung and I have a unit shoot for the album. Why?” He picked up his phone as he spoke, catching sight of his reflection before almost flinging it away in horror. He turned to Yoongi panicking. 

“Hyung! hyung I look like shit! I have a photoshoot…and…I wasn’t so haggard..what” And before he knew it his eyed had welled up.

His eyes were bloodshot, and there were the beginnings of what would turn into an enormous zit by the afternoon. He could see that he had bitten through the dry skin on his lips, and he basically looked wrecked. 

7 years in the industry and he still hadn’t learnt to temper self-criticism. He worked hard and pushed himself more every day, he was known for that. He wanted to continue being known for that. And now this felt like that one mistake which would start it all. And he was old now, he’d forget more and more things and never be as good as people needed him to.  

And all he’d remember, when asked about the night that started his downfall, was how Yoongi hyung looked tonight and every other night and whenever someone would want to talk to him he’d blurt stories of a feline face and he’d be committed to an institution, all because he couldn’t control his feelings.

“Hyung..h-“

“Shh. Sh, baby, quiet.” 

It had taken Jeongguk around half a minute to conjure up a nightmare but he hadn’t registered how Yoongi hyung had pulled him to his chest in a nanosecond. Large, pale hands pushed his face up gently, wiping tears away from skin that had gotten unused to the gentleness. “Nothing bad will happen” he murmured soothingly. “We’ll pack up and go home now, and I’ll make sure your individual schedule is the last for the day.”

He bit his lip again, chewing on the reddened skin there, staring unseeing at the rapper who seemed to cherish him so much. For all his nightmarish vision from a few minutes ago, he’d forgotten to account for one factor. 

Yoongi would never let anything bad happen to him.

 *

There are so many you can say I love you to a person using three words. Luckily for Min Yoongi, there were also countless ways he could show it instead. He chose the latter, being of a slightly reserved disposition. His affection was no less intense than ones shouted at from rooftops, infact it was sonorous as the echo of a church bell is; you could feel its whisper in the air even when the moment was over. His band members could tell you the myriad ways in which they found out how much he cared. How over time, he learnt the language they were most fluent in, and sang it back to them. But for all his wisdom, knowledge of light fixtures, and sheer, blinding courage, there were a few things he was terribly afraid of.

“What do you mean you don’t want anaesthesia?” Hoseok paused making his bed to look up in befuddlement. 

“I mean…” Yoongi twisted and untwisted a part of the t-shirt in his grip tightly, “I mean I understand I can’t put off the surgery for any longer, but I don’t want to take anaesthesia.”

Hoseok ceased all his folding and de-creasing and just sat down on the half-made bed, evidently deeming the matter serious enough. He stared at the older man for a minute, trying to gauge what was really going on — “you’re afraid?”
His eyes bugged out a bit, because while he could understand being afraid, Yoongi tended to approach all his fears rationally till he cowed them down. And the person who stood at his door far too early for a conversation like this had cowed nothing down yet.

“Have you heard Inception’s ost?” Yoongi asked, shuffling into the room hesitantly. By now Hoseok was sure this was some weird lucid dream even though he wasn’t unfamiliar with the tangents all their conversations usually took. “Hyung, wha—” 

“Just tell me Hob-ah.” Yoongi interrupted.

“I have,” he said at last, taking a deep breath. “Although why would you want to know that?”

“Have you heard any extended cello cover of the OST?” Yoongi kept asking about music and Hoseok couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going on but… “Yes I have.”

“That’s how it feels.” The younger was completely lost by now and his expression conveyed that to his hyung, who despite everything, snorted quietly. Perhaps it was too early.

“It’s how the music makes my heart clench and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, only it does not, and the music goes on and on till I’m stretched so taut the slightest of touches can break me.”

Slightly alarmed and two seconds away from calling Namjoon, “Okaaayyy….”

“That’s how the idea of anaesthesia makes me feel!” Yoongi FINALLY bursts out. 

“But where the composition makes me feel nervous in a good way, here it’s like my heart will literally give out any second because I’m not in control of my body anymore, and what if I just never wake up? There’s a new Samsung launching Hoseok! I have to show my staunch, unsullied by capitalism, support.”

One minute. Then another, and before he knew it, Hoseok was shaking with his head in his hands. He was laughing.

Yoongi’s little face twisted into an expression of indignance immediately. He bared his heart out! His deepest fears! Jeongguk would have NEVER —

“Hyung,” says Hoseok at last, struggling against the last of his laughter, “have you ever stopped to think that you aren’t the first or the last to go through a tooth extraction?”

“I have,” Yoongi mutters miserably, “nothing is helping.”

“Oh Yoongi,” Hoseok coos and puts his arm around him. Tone much gentler than before, “why don’t you think about it like this then, the medical professionals we go to are not just highly trained but they’re the best in their business. The anaesthesia is just there to ensure the procedure goes smoothly, and the dose is tailored according to your bodily requirements. There’s no way anyone’s going to give you a wrong dose. In fact, I’ll phone ahead and ask them to make sure,” he ends, puffing out his chest to make the other smile a bit.

Sensing that he hadn’t quite alleviated Yoongi’s worries yet, he thought about it for another second.

“Oh there’s another thing you can do.” Heart-shaped smile nowhere to be found, Hoseok’s tone and smirk would have cued Yoongi in had he not been utterly lost in a haze of stress. 

A long pause.

“You can take Gukkie with you.” The name — not that he’d ever admit it — was enough to bring him out of his mopey state. 

“Why would I do that?” Yoongi asked, cat eyes narrowing as if to pry the reason out through sheer cuteness.

Which might have worked, but only on the Taehyung. Hoseok was battle-hardened.

“You can get Jeongguk to go with you instead of a manager. It will be more comforting, and he’s seen you in every state already, so there’s not really too many ways in which you can embarrass yourself in front of him, and he can drive you guys home.” Hoseok shrugged. 

Yoongi considered it for a bit. It didn’t sound like the worst plan, and Jeongguk’s hand was great to hold; it was warm and reassuring and he had such soft skin — the merits of Hoseok’s idea were quickly making themselves known to him, and, “okay.”

“Okay?” he questioned, surprised the elder hadn’t needed more convincing.

“Yes” Yoongi said decisively. “I’ll ask him if he’s free later today.”

With a firm nod, Yoongi went back out and wandered into the living room, looking for ways to kill time before he had to go to the studio with Jimin. There weren’t too many things he’d planned for the day, so he had a lot more time to sit and worry about the outcomes of the surgery.

Yoongi was, always had been, a brave person naturally. Some people had to dig deep to find courage when faced with any adversity. But he seemed to have it in spades from the get go. Maybe that’s why this fear unnerved him so much — he couldn’t rationalize it or challenge the worst outcome; he felt like a sitting duck, watching the train hurtling his way and hoping he escaped with nothing more than a graze.

Hopefully, the conversation with Jeongguk would change that for him. He couldn’t help but smile trying to imagine that. Taking comfort from him, or actively seeking him out for comfort would have been unimaginable up till a few years back.
Their Jeongguk, their maknae. He had a sincerity that was unaffected by the jadedness that was routine in the industry, his eyes somehow still sparkled as if a part of some cosmic brilliance had made home in them forever. But what always took Yoongi aback was his heart. He’d once described it as a vessel in an informal Festa interview, but a vessel only held what you gave. Jeongguk took what you gave and made it infinitely better, infinitely warmer, and then gifted it back to you.  

He was the first breath of clean, crisp autumn air, the crescendo of emotion when the protagonists of a 100k slow-burn finally kiss, he was the first glimpse of home after a long time away.

And Yoongi got to call him his. Theirs. He got to enjoy the generosity of heart, the brashness of spirit, the absolute effusiveness of his joy. He could feel his lips kicking up at the corners before he caught himself and spoke to the voice that sounded a lot like Jin hyung in his head. 

No , he wasn’t in love with the maknae, he just really admired him. As anyone with two eyes and functioning senses would. God. Write a song about a person once and nobody ever lets you live it down.

He watched from his armchair as Namjoon stumbled out of his room, observed Jimin walk out a lot more gracefully a moment later. Carefully filed that information away.

“Jimin-ah you’re ready?”

“Just a second hyung,” the oldest of the little ones darted in and out of rooms, no doubt searching for something as Yoongi contented himself by raising an eyebrow at Namjoon meanwhile. Silently judging, but also inquiring. He’d seen them toe around each other for a few months, but…

“I’m here I’m here let’s go hyung” said Jimin brightly. He paused for a minute while putting on his shoes, “Joonie-hyung you’re coming too?” Yoongi noted the beginnings of panic on the latter’s face and smoothly stepped in to avert a possible crisis. 

“This session is just for you and me Jiminie, Joon-ah told me he’d do some writing at home.”

“Oh, okay” Jimin’s face fell a little at that, but if he looked particularly closely, he might be able to detect a bit of relief too. Ugh. Budding love. He would never catch feelings, he only ever caught planes to Hong Kong. Speaking of, Jeongguk had mentioned wanting to go back to Hong Kong the other day.

Hmm.

A few hours of fiddling with the MIDI and decoding his chicken scrawl from a few weeks ago made him feel a bit more like himself. Yoongi firmly believed that everyone had some purpose on the planet. It could be something like helping one person cross the road, who’d then maybe be on time to impart a profound lesson to a child, who would grow up to be a generational leader. It could also be as simple as returning a dog back to their owner, with no definitive domino effect except the everlasting gratitude of both.

It’s funny, he found himself musing on quieter days across years. It’s funny how there were billions of them at the same time, pushing past boundaries, being wrapped up in them, trying to protect a nebulous idea of what’s precious. And with more and more lives intersecting with each passing day, an action of one had an indeterminable yet undeniable effect on another. You couldn’t prepare for how one was about to change your life — you could only pray to grow from it.

He and Jimin had finished recording the bit they were supposed to. The younger one had grown tremendously with regards to his skill as an artist and Yoongi really appreciated being able to bounce ideas off him. The only problem with Park Jimin, as far as he could see, was that the brat saw far too much where he wasn’t supposed to. Brow scrunched in thought, he went over Jimin’s parting words to him as the other left the Genius Lab.

He’d been giggling over a photo someone sent him on Ka-talk, and then looked up sharply from where he sat toeing on his shoes. 

Gukkie’s all tuckered out from dance Hobi hyung says, waving a picture on his phone Yoongi would have to squint to see. I would have taken him out to dinner tonight the poor thing, too bad I already have plans. You should see if you can grab a bite together hyung, he was grumbling about not spending enough time with you recently. 

He couldn’t help but feel slightly disgruntled by this. Had he been neglecting the little one? Would it be wrong to ask a favour of him then? Just because Yoongi wanted to do every conceivable thing to make Jeongguk’s life easier didn’t mean the other felt the same way. He didn’t want to feel guilty over an issue like this and honestly any of the six would be happy to accompany him to the dentist.

But Jeongguk accompanying him would mean more, his heart whispered selfishly. He sighed deeply before realizing he was falling into the trap of presuming the other’s thoughts and feelings again. He would ask the maknae. If he said no, that was that and he’d just take Hoseok instead. Who fainted at the sight of blood but then at least they’d both have something to be embarrassed about.

It was early evening when Yoongi finally decided to call it quits for the day, checking the group chat to see which members could possibly be in the company building still. He knew Taehyung was there somewhere, but he had an interview later on and couldn’t go back with him. That left Jeongguk and Hoseok, if they were still practicing. Squaring his shoulders, he made the walk to their dance studio, where faint music could be heard through the closed door.
Walking in, it was evident that the little one had convinced Hoseok to cease all practice for the day as they bopped their heads to Bbibbi. He laughed softly at the song choice — even relaxation had to make a statement around here. But he firmly believed they were in a better place now than all those years ago, and he was fucking thankful for that.

Hoseok and Jeongguk looked up from where they had their heads bent over the same screen, Gguk probably showing some random dance clip he guessed. He envied the easy intimacy the two of them shared. He had that with Hoseok, but that was because the younger was relentless with his affection. He’d not just knocked on Yoongi’s door years ago, he’d broken them down completely and then come in through the window.

Jeongguk and he were woefully alike, he often noted wryly. The shy boy had taken to draping himself over everyone but him, possibly because he was the only one who didn’t reciprocate immediately and as ferociously. Yoongi got the gentler touches. The knuckles brushing, the nose boops, the soft, soft banging of the other’s forehead to his.
And he loved those, he’d take it and savour it every single day, but he had a really cute butt according to Tae and Jin. He just wanted that smacked too.   

“Ah Yoongi, come sit with, Gguk was just showing me some TikTok challenge.” Hoseok called out cheerfully. 

Hah. 1/1 there.

He sat down heavily on the floor, knee close enough to Jeongguk’s that he could touch it if he stretched a bit, but there was enough of a gap for Hoseok to not laugh at him.

Thus protected against any teasing, he was content to sit there and bask in the company of two of his favourite people. Yoongi could never tire of how he wasn’t forced to contribute to the conversation — he could simply listen to them and it’d be enough. He immediately felt disgusted at the sappiness that flowed readily in every second thought of his, but he was goddamned happy these days. If only he could somehow telepathically ask Jeongguk to accompany him to the dentist? Well there was very little else Min Yoongi desired.

 It wasn’t very often that they went to bed at the same time anymore. Slightly differing schedules keeping them in the company building at different times. There were also other friendships, personal commitments, Yoongi couldn’t remember the last time they all ate dinner together and caught a movie amid low chatter and laughter. He’d missed them.

A few of the members had fallen asleep by the time the end credits rolled, and Jin had been slowly moving empty bowls of chips to the kitchen for the last five minutes. Getting rid of the crick in his neck, Yoongi and Jimin slowly woke up Namjoon and one by one they scattered again till it was just Jeongguk left, keeping away the last remnants of their night, and him.

Hoseok had given him a knowing look while walking past the two and he had rolled his eyes in response. Hoseok was making this out to be too big a deal. He was just asking Jeongguk for some help. They did that. He could do that. Easy as cake.

“Gguk-ah?”

At the maknae lifting tired doe eyes at him, his brain suddenly stuttered, realizing it hadn’t practiced any speech in advance.

“Err..I was wondering if you were free this weekend?”

“To go out hyung? Do you need something?” Jeongguk cocked his head to the side curiously, the side of his neck lit by the faint glow the screen was emitting.

Absurdly, he wasn’t sure he’d been this nervous while submitting his songs to Pdogg earlier this month. Maybe because Pdogg wasn’t a person who could possibly break his heart. But surely Jeongguk couldn’t either; that was all hypothesis of course. He loved Jeongguk. He wasn’t in love with him.

Yoongi realized the other was still waiting for an answer. He quickly looked up and said “oh no, well actually I do, but it isn’t a material thing...” 

A quick intake of breath. “I need comfort.”

As soon as the words were out, he wanted to haul them back in. Of all the godforsaken awkwardness...

Jeongguk still looked adorably confused, so he tried again.

“I need to go to the dentist this weekend, and if it’s not a bother, and you’re not doing anything else, could you maybe come with me? For support?”

Yoongi’s eyes had found their way back to the floor, gaze firmly fixed on a spot near the carpet. When the silence stretched for longer than 10 seconds, he could feel his heart beginning to sink. He’d known this was a bad idea. Jeongguk had never seen him verbalize his need for help before, of course this would be shocking.

He breathed in, trying to make excuses for the request already, when the singer stepped into his line of vision. Jeongguk was smiling softly, “of course I’d come with you hyung!”

He bit his lip. “Why were you looking so tense right now? Did you think I’d say no?” the younger asked incredulously, and a little hurt if he was being honest.
Yoongi reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Jeongguk’s ear, telling him that it wasn’t like that and he just hadn’t wanted to impose.

Jeongguk immediately softened even more, reaching down to take one of Yoongi’s hands in both of his. “You’d be surprised hyung” he began tenderly, “if you ever came to know how often I wish you’d impose a little more.”
With a gentle twinkle in his eye, Jeongguk squeezed his hand once more and turned to go back to his room.

Leaving Yoongi with the feeling that he hadn’t quite understood what had just transpired, but he was in no way opposed to it.

Saturday came sooner than he’d have liked. A conversation with his dentist the prior evening had told him he would have to be on an empty stomach, easily done for him. He also ended up confessing his worry about the anesthesia, not being able to keep it to himself anymore.

He’d first planned on staying in his studio all night long, hoping he’d be too tired to actually think about the next morning. Jin put a stop to that thought pretty quickly.

“Absolutely not.” He said, mouth firm in a thin line. “I understand that you’re a bit worried and you would rather distract yourself, but this is the worst way to go about it.” Stepping closer to his oldest dongsaeng, Jin had continued in a softer tone, mindful of how sensitive his Yoongi could be.

The oldest two had often only the other to turn to, handed over the responsibility of 5 eager-to-please, vivacious, budding individuals, they had taken it upon themselves to ensure the world didn’t break what they tried so hard to nurture. A word of advice, a giant hug, a sharp spank, all variations of their love language. But the best part was the way they behaved with each other.

Like one would treat the tube of white paint in a box. They knew it would be a bit sullied, a bit muddied eventually, but that didn’t stop them from taking the utmost care every time they used it.

Yoongi knew his hyung only had his best interests at heart, so he grudgingly agreed to sleep in the dorm instead. And if at 1 am Hoseok slipped underneath his covers to cuddle him after receiving a text, well, no one was to judge were they?

Jeongguk wakes up earlier than he’d expected the next morning. Years of being under the spotlight helped him recognize the buzzing beneath his skin as nervousness. But that wasn’t his place today, it was his hyung’s burden. Why, then, he wondered, was he the one with moths in his stomach? ( it couldn’t be butterflies if the emotion wasn’t pretty, he’d argued with Jimin and Namjoon the first time they heard him use the phrase )

He’d spent a good while trying to get his hyungs to see him as someone they could lean on. 

Trust like that wasn’t given freely, not when there was so much riding on their mental state on a day-to-day basis. But he liked to think he did an okay job. It was in the little things he observed; how he was asked to go on grocery runs as often as Hoseok, or how he was allowed to leave the studio two hours after others without frantic calls every 15 minutes. How Namjoon leant on his shoulder as much as he leant on his. How Jimin calmed down when he stroked his fingers through his hair, how Taehyung didn’t feel the need to put up a mask of bravado in front of him.

Jin and Yoongi had taken the longest to turn to him. It isn’t that they found Jeongguk incapable, but it was natural to want to shield the youngest from personal demons they hadn’t managed to wrestle themselves.
So he found different ways to help them. Distracted Jin till his squawks and laughter was louder than the negative thoughts, tickled him till the only ache was from not being able to catch his breath due to laughter, held him tightly enough to piece back whatever might have broken away. 

He discovered he couldn’t do that with Yoongi. He had to wait for his hyung to approach him. While patience didn’t come easily to Jeongguk, for Yoongi, he’d make an exception every time. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been making little allowances for, till that one day all those months ago, when his feelings crashed into him with all the subtlety of a pot of milk boiling over. 

When he was younger, Jeongguk used to worry so much about making himself seen. And then along the way he stopped forcing it and decided to focus all that energy on growing instead. He filled up the space given to him and spilled over its edges. He grew into himself — his traits, his habits, his nose, and now that he finally feels he’s ready to be there for Yoongi, the other seems to have seen him already.

Jeongguk hugged his pillow close to him as the realization sunk in. He’d been asked to accompany his hyung to the dentist. His hyung, who would be scared and nervous and very vulnerable in a few hours. His hung who he was in very much love with. Jeongguk’s mouth ran dry all of a sudden.

He might have overstated his supportive capabilities earlier.

In another room, Yoongi wasn’t faring much better. But for once, all his focus was on himself. He’d finally managed to regain some semblance of control over the situation, and quick Naver searches had reassured him slightly. Walking into the shared spaces of the dorm, he found Hoseok and Jin in the kitchen already, putting together a simple breakfast.

He sat down a short distance away, content to watch time interact as he blinked away the last vestiges of sleep. He was mid-yawn when the aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, causing him to choke on an incomplete breath.

Hoseok sniggered and kept a mug of warm, blessed black liquid in front him and sat down beside. His smile wasn’t as nice as the one he gave last night. Yoongi wanted yesterday’s coddling Hoseok back. He whined at the other, and the widening smile meant the younger rapper had him exactly where he wanted him.

“Think you’ve stopped worrying about the procedure yet Yoon?”

Yoongi chose to not reply, taking a sip of his coffee instead. If Hoseok would choose to trouble him on this already difficult morning, then he’d just have to ignore him till later. Or maybe sit on his lap as punishment. He had a few minutes to decide.

Unfortunately for him, Jin took the chair beside Hoseok, sealing his fate. The two together could be the kindest of souls and a beautiful substitute for his mother’s hugs back home, but not today, nope. Today they were Satan’s spawns themselves and Yoongi regretted coming out of the room so soon.

Drinking his coffee as fast as humanly possible, he cited excuses and ran out of the room. Luckily, he ran into nobody else, the other members most likely still asleep or just waking up. Yoongi wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his fear had transformed into something resembling anticipation. He still hated the idea of going under, but the more he thought of how he was depending on Jeongguk to bring him home, the more comfortable he got with the idea. The kid had proven himself responsible time and again. He goofed around as much as possible with everyone willing, but Yoongi had acknowledged his maturity years ago.

Albeit, Namjoon had been his sole audience at that time, but he probably counted the most. 

He was broken away from his musings by a knock. The door opened to admit one maknae and Yoongi felt a pang in his heart upon seeing him. He wanted to allude this to his anxiety about the surgery too, but he was finding it harder to do so this time.

He hadn’t had the courage to give words to this yet. Ironic considering his profession, but that’s just how things were. A scant few hours before surgery probably wasn’t the perfect time to get into the mess of emotions he carefully hid away, but he had long since lost control over when they hit him.

Jeongguk and he left with a few words to Hoseok and Jin (who were still sitting together gossiping like ahjussis, Yoongi sniffed to himself). Jeongguk opened his door for him with a wide smile, and God Yoongi really did need to do something about his reactions.

He had a flash about him sitting in the dentist’s chair, but the doctor couldn’t administer the anesthesia because his heart wouldn’t stop galloping at Jeongguk right there in the room, holding his hand.

Tch. Get your shit together Min Yoongi. You are not a teenager and you are certainly not a giddy teenager.

The car ride was spent arguing with the younger one about which mainstream pop artist was the most tolerable. Yoongi actually liked quite a few of the artists Jeongguk played via the aux cable but the gleam in the other’s eye as he got to make his point animatedly was something he wanted to savour.

He was almost disgustingly gone now this wasn’t even funny he needed to ruminate upon his feelings as soon as he could.

They made it to the reception with no more mental tangents and he was thankful for that. The prior anxiety was seeping in again, and he could feel his breath getting shorter. He could hear Jeongguk say something sitting beside him but the words weren’t registering anymore. Suddenly, a large warm hand gently laid itself against his cheek and he found himself face to face with the other. Instead of saying anything, Jeongguk took his hand and kept it against his chest, asking him to match his breath to his.

His fingers crinkled the soft cotton and for a minute he was taken away from the hard plastic below him and the harsh light overhead. Memory was a powerful thing. One brush against something familiar and he was taken back to the comforting sights and sounds of his favourite places. For a while, all he could feel was the steady beat of Jeongguk’s heart against his palm, the calm in the eye of the storm. The next deep breath brought with it the heady scent of cotton, the smell of dew in the early morning, and something uniquely Jeongguk. Maybe a hint of the stars he carried with him.

The singer soon drew away, leaving him with a new calm as Jeongguk got the forms from the nurse and went a distance away to the vending machine. The singer soon came bounding back, a listless clinic corridor no match for the enthusiasm ingrained in him. He held out the forms to Yoongi who was amused and simultaneously horrified at the lollipop stick hanging out of the younger’s mouth.

It was as if the fates had decreed he could be passive for no more than a handful of minutes at a time. Turning his eyes downward, he filled in the blanks as slowly as he could, wanting to avoid a particular pair of cherry lips for as long as he could.

Thankfully, no conversation was initiated by the maknae so he could let his guard down again. He ruefully thought about how this was the exact reason why he’d asked Jeongguk to accompany him.

For all their work required them to communicate and talk things out and rehash the same idea from 17 different angles, Yoongi and Jeongguk were, at their core, much more comfortable with speaking in silences. It never got awkward or uncomfortable between the two; but it was a quiet that let them be.

The manic lives they led allowed them several luxuries, but the pleasure of simply existing was one long lost.

In Jeongguk, Yoongi regained a lot of that. He straightened from his slouch with a start at the abrupt realization, gazing around the room as if seeing things anew. It was the same as it had been a moment ago. Whiny child in the corner, vending machine with coffee he couldn’t touch, a slightly cute receptionist answering calls, terrible, disgusting overhead lights he wanted to talk to the interior designer about, and the cutest boy in the world beside him.

The pain in his tooth was there too. But the one in his chest; that seemed to have been building forever, had dulled for now. As if it was waiting to see if it needed to strike again. He felt a piece of the puzzle click into place. He hadn’t even been aware that he was trying to solve something. 

Yoongi opened his mouth to ask a question. Mumble. Mutter. Say anything, that would help him feel like he wasn’t having an absurd out of body experience. He was a second away from just tapping Jeongguk on the shoulder when-

“Min Yoongi-ssi, the dentist will see you now.”

* 

Everyone close to Yoongi knew he hated bright lights. There was simply no reason for them unless it was nighttime. But wait, what time was it now?

He remembers sitting in a poorly designed chair in the dentist’s office and the man-in-charge had given him no time to overthink but had had all the equipment ready from before. He remembers his dentist, a Song Hyojoon, trying to calm him down by talking at a slower, more soothing pace but it hadn’t helped because his voice sounded too stilted and mechanical, similar to what an AI would sound like when they tried to take over the world.

He doesn’t even remember if he had calmed down at last or if he’d just been forcefully sedated regardless. Yoongi looked down upon himself to wiggle his fingers a bit, noticing how they were warmer than he was used to — as if someone had been holding his hand tightly. 

Turning slightly, he realized he was still at the dentist’s office, but this was a recovery room of sorts, for patients who felt a little extra dizzy or just needed a breather.

He panicked for a second, not seeing his manager, wondering how he was to get back to their dorms, or anywhere, with 90% of his faculties seemingly on hold; but he was sure he’d come here with someone. Namjoon, or even Jin, wouldn’t have let him come here alone. Neither would Hoseok, or Jimin, or Taehyung, or Jeongguk. He spaced out for a bit then. Counted all 10 fingers again, tried to feel his cheek.

He was in the middle of checking the degree to which he could twist his neck comfortably when the door opened with a loud clatter and a young, obscenely fit, possible God walked through.

Now, Min Yoongi was a lot of things. Like a serious lot of things, Jack of several trades, a Master of even more. But till date, he’d considered himself an atheist. However, (and never let it be said that Yoongi wasn’t flexible in his opinions), he was rapidly revising everything he’d heretofore thought about the possibility of God not just existing, but coming to greet him.

The buff God smiled upon him with the power of a thousand suns and was THIS how the universe was created?? Through a ray of pure light?

Yoongi was stunned to be a part of this beautiful process and his little pouty mouth, swollen and slightly bloody, would have been open in awe had the gauze not forced it half-open already. Frankly, he couldn’t quite believe that he’d reached a level of greatness where God was actually talking to him but what other explanation was there?

He could hear the Being speaking something but his ears weren’t sharp enough to understand the exact words taking shape. He blinked slowly. Loudly.

A ear trained by exacting, endless hours of composing, producing, and creating told him that he was possibly hearing the most beautiful sound in the world right now. A large hand waved in front of his eyes, followed by a sharp, crystal clear giggle.

Oh no. He took a sharp breath in. 

This was obviously the prettiest sound in the world and he wanted it bottled for wretched nights of too much work and too little self-esteem. Yoongi turned to the God in despair, not knowing exactly how to communicate his desire.

But the other must have sensed his distress, and displaying the benevolence so often attached to his name, he put his hand on Yoongi’s denim-clad knee, scorching the skin there. The Being seemed to want Yoongi to follow him as he stood up, taking the shorter man with him.

And he knew that he was supposed to be a little more alert, warier, about this situation. There were a lot of men pretending to be Gods to scheme naïve people out of their money, but he also knew that if he didn’t follow this ethereal creature, money would be of no use to him for he’d want to spend all of it anyway buying tickets to wherever the other was.

A stairway to heaven? Yoongi’d make sure there was a plane.

He was led to a well-maintained, yet nondescript car to his utter amazement. God was evidently humbler than he was. The sunlight in the parking lot made it so as if there was a halo around the other, and Yoongi could make out a defined physique and curly, jet-black hair that flew around in ringlets. He stumbled further ahead to where possible-God was still unlocking the car and was gratified to realize the Higher Being shared his love for all-black outfits and high-top sneakers.

Although the latter was a bitch to remove, his drug-addled brain supplied helpfully.

He was ushered into the car where Buff Beauty started fussing over him, making him feel seven different kinds of warm and cozy. He didn’t admit it often, but everyone had sussed it out by now that he LOVED being coddled and taken care of as much as he loved taking care of.

In his weak, vulnerable state, Yoongi didn’t think he could have had anyone taking such good care of him as this Glorious God was.

“Ready?” he was asked in a carefully eager tone. Heck he’d been ready all his life for this. And he tried to say that with a lazy smirk but he wasn’t sure he got there, if the laugh of the other was to go by. Yoongi turned around abruptly at the sound of that bell-like laugh again, catching a glimpse of bunny teeth before pink lips were pursed again, trying their best to not break out into a fit of soft laughter. His chest ached at that sight.

He wasn’t sure what had happened suddenly or why he felt like he was missing something. Brows furrowed, he turned to the front again. Yoongi of 10 fingers, 10 toes, and one cheek with 20% feeling only was very sure this is where he was meant to be, with the Celestial Creator of their Great Universe. But happy as he had been moments ago, there was something, or someone missing. 

He tried to think about what his mind was trying to tell him but his head was heavy and pressurizing it just worsened the niggling ache in his temples. He could feel himself getting drowsier again, and he fought it with the final bit of his strength — trying to catch hold of what had made him feel an absence, a deep-seated longing even his fuzzy brain recognized.

Yoongi’s next sensation was that of sheets cool to the touch. The lights were appropriately dimmed and he craned his neck to spot a glass of water on the bedside table. He was home then, and he could only imagine the procedure had gone well since he was feeling considerably less woozy and no one was beside him sobbing. Yoongi dragged himself upright slowly, and shuffled to the door. He hadn’t gained his bearings yet, but a glance at the time made him believe someone would be in the dorm to help with that.

In a scene eerily reminiscent to the one he’d left that morning, Jin and Hoseok were the only ones in the living room. The eldest spotted him almost immediately and stood up to help him with a warm smile. He was guided to the sofa with no little cooing, as Hoseok plumped up a few pillows and got a throw from the corner armchair. Yoongi rewarded them with a gummy smile as best as he could, prompting Jin to react dramatically by clutching his hand to his heart.

“Yoongichi! Why can’t you be this cute to your poor hyung all the time? Look, he gesticulated wildly to Hoseok, LOOK at my precious Yoongi-yah.”

Turning to the older rapper again, he shot off some rapid-fire questions, from which Yoongi gauged it had been Jin who changed his bloody gauze and bandages a few hours ago, and he’d slept most of the day away. He was handed a bowl of soup, which would be easy to digest and not hurt his cheek either. 

With two of his favorite people beside him, and some divine-smelling food, Yoongi finally started to get over the fear that had held him in a vice grip since he first got told he needed surgery.

The others chatted quietly, swapping stories about this and that, generally letting themselves relax outside of the persona BTS has them in. As consistently as they tried to blur the boundaries between idol and individual, they also wrapped the most precious sides of themselves in diaphanous cloaks. A contradictory picture, sure, but the idea was showing the world the realest aspects of yourself without necessarily showing yourself in entirety. They had to keep something for just them, and evenings like this one reinforced that belief.

Head not buzzing anymore, stomach full, heart fuller, Yoongi felt as if he could burst with joy. Hoseok noted his happiness and seemed to glow even more for it, nudging his soul-partner and grinning in question.

Yoongi wanted to tell him already. Tell him what his brain had finally caught onto, now that it was more lucid than it had been a few hours ago. Now that it knew there was no manager who’d brought him back, no assistant at the dentist’s clinic guiding him to cars, no God with a capital G who deigned to greet him. There was just one person, entirely ordinary. Somehow made from more stardust than any ordinary person had the right to be.

Yoongi can’t believe he’d forgotten, even momentarily, who he’d brought along. He supposes it was understandable to be disoriented on anesthesia and he’d just ask Jeongguk if he did something embarrassing. Or maybe he won’t and just let the memory die. He hadn’t decided.

But there’s this phantom pain in his chest. One that’d been there for a while now and should have gone away with the surgery. Medical science has come a long way but he supposes doctors are entirely ordinary humans too.

Yoongi stewed in his thoughts for a minute longer. Clinging onto a realization that had been a long time coming, and felt far too massive to be blurted out over a conversation about everything and nothing at all. 

But like all else in his life, he decided to seize the bull by the horns anyway. 

He nuzzled upto Hoseok. Waiting for a break in the conversation. And snatching the first pause that came, claiming for himself, he whispered his confession.

Nothing happened for a minute. Hoseok stopped crunching the chips already in his mouth and Jin stopped his gentle patting motion on Yoongi’s knee but — nobody came bursting in through the door and called him a creep, the wind didn’t immediately work itself into a hurricane, there was no miasma stinking up the dorm. Nothing really changed but the phantom pain was an ounce lighter.

He realized, once again belatedly, that he was in the company of two people in the know already. He was the one who’d just caught up. 

Yoongi cleared his throat before working up the courage to lock eyes with his hyung. Jin was looking at him with something akin to pity. But he also had his lips curved in a smile, as if he physically couldn’t stop showing happiness about whatever was going on right now. “Yoongi,” he began, in a tone he solely reserved for when Namjoon would be on his fifth draft of lyrics or when Jungkook had held in his emotions for so long the younger just needed a shoulder to cry on.

“Yoongi, my dear, my first dongsaeng, the only ones who don’t know you are in love with Jeongguk are you and Jeongguk. But now that you’ve come to your senses, literally and metaphorically, that leaves just the brat. But he’s been a bit dense about these things anyway.”

Yoongi turned to Hoseok at that in bewilderment. “You guys knew?” He cried out, feeling more betrayed that he had at the clinic. He could feel a little drool spill out of his mouth that Hoseok immediately wiped away before opening his mouth to say something, and then closing it. As if he hadn’t quite thought about what he was going to tell. 

But even as Yoongi watched his face, something shifted in his expression, and the next words weren’t something he’d ever expected the other to say. “Hyung,” he began, quietly, as if to not further spook an already spooked creature, “hyung it’s kinda obvious when you think about it.”

Yoongi was shaking his head before that sentence was completed. He didn’t think it was obvious at all. He thought back to all the moments he and Jeongguk shared, in public or private, and he didn’t think he ever showered the boy with more attention or affection than he did the others. He was also sure he never flirted with the younger. He wasn’t sure how long this thing had been growing in his heart. When had it taken root and when had it finally bloomed into something that was so entangled with everything in him that uprooting it would mean tearing off his very sinews. But he was sure of the fact that he’d always been conscious of how young Jeongguk was. How impressionable, how ready to fall in love with the idea of love.

He shook his head because the idea that he’d been leading the maknae on, even unconsciously, had been laying some sort of claim on him without realizing it, wasn’t something he could get behind and he was about to say this to the two when Hoseok gently stopped him from trying to speak, reminding him that his head was still tender and working himself into a tizzy wouldn’t help. 

Yoongi felt cool fingers gently scratch the strands just above his nape, and he relaxed into the touch with a sigh. He was helpless not to. The dorm was silent again for a while.

Feelings were normal and a part of life. Feelings where they were at this stage of their life and in a band together made things a little more complex, but surprisingly Yoongi wasn’t scared or worried.

The phantom pain around his chest had loosened further. And the breaths came easier, like whatever had taken root within him and decided to hide its thorns away for now.

“He wouldn’t hate you for loving him you know.”

A stuttered breath, more aborted words. The echo of an old conviction. Yoongi remembers not wanting to take anymore that what was being given freely, didn’t want to make any more demands of one already giving everything of his away. He pushed that thought away. Asked Jin how he knew that.

Jin cocked his head to the side, mulling over his answer. “It actually wasn’t very easy to realize this? Like, we’re constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and have no time to ourselves, there’s barely a pause long enough to take long breaths in, forget analyzing interactions between you two but…”

He huffed out a breath. Frustrated with himself for not being able to explain it easily when it was right there, had been right there clear as day for years maybe, before Jimin had pointed it out one night.

The others were out and weren’t going to come back anytime soon. The 95 line had gone to catch a movie, Namjoon had gone shopping, and Jeongguk was out with his friends too. But Jin wanted to have this conversation before there were at risk of having to cut it short due to the return of a certain member.

He tried again, chose his words more carefully. “You remember back to a few years ago, when you finally got Genius Lab ready and where you wanted it?” A nod “You got this shmancy lock installed and all sorts of edgy things because you like to pretend you’re cool and you remember the first time one of us had a meltdown on realizing that you intended to keep it locked all the time?”

Yoongi snorts out a laugh, he does remember and it was fucking hilarious, the snot they’d worked themselves into.

“But then,” Jin forges on, “remember that one time we desperately needed you to answer your phone because it was an actual emergency and Namjoon was getting so angry because you’d also disabled the bell and nobody was able to hammer on the door loudly enough for you to hear but then Jeongguk just, stepped up timidly, and confessed he knew the password. He’d been the one to go and get you and he hadn’t let us grill him about it at all.

And we’d all forgotten about it till Hobi reminded us of it the next week, and we’d kicked up a fuss again in front of you, the maknaes particularly put out at only JK having the password but you were so surprised at the outrage. You actually, genuinely couldn’t understand why only him having the password would be so special.”

“The answer was as obvious to you then as it is to me now.”

Putting his head in his hands, Jin laughed at himself for becoming so maudlin all of a sudden, but he couldn’t stop the glimmer in his eyes when he looked up again.

“He was the only one who’d made a space for himself without you ever having to give up any of yours.”

There really wasn’t anything Yoongi could say to that that wouldn’t be a lie. So they continued sitting in the renewed silence. Delicate touches, eyes closed to the overbright room so for just one moment, they wouldn’t have to see more than exactly what they wanted to.

He knew they were expecting him to say or do anything about what he’d finally realized, but he didn’t know the first thing about what to do. A tug in his chest was stopping him from saying the words, as if he just needed to wait a few minutes more. It was the same feeling that made him choose between taking the bus and getting food, that got him outside a slightly decrepit building in Seoul when he didn’t know he needed to be there, had made sure he stuck to a boy who couldn’t even tie his own laces at 14. He was familiar with it, respected it, but for the first time in eons, he considered ignoring it when there was the sound of keys jangling in the lock and a laugh rang out in the open space before them.

He let it wash over him. He wasn’t a hyung in this moment, he wasn’t a member of the most popular band in the group, a genius producer, someone scared of dying. He was just Min Yoongi.

 He knew there were a scant few steps left after which he’d catch a glimpse of the figure he knew so well but every second of it stretched into an eternity of its own and he took in a deep breath to expel it in a whoosh. Saying the words out into the universe. Letting it carry the message to its most precious boy. 

He finally let himself just be Min Yoongi, a man in love, and he now knew it. He raised his head to look at the person who’d just walked in.

Crowned the golden maknae by Namjoon, the one person the 6 of them felt most protective over, the one true love of his life. 

The phantom pain in his chest was almost negligible.

“How’re you feeling hyung?” Jeongguk called out brightly before ambling over to the couch that seated all of them — all vibrant smiles and glistening eyes that reflected the light back at you tenfold, eyes that shined prettily in a way that you saw the world anew and could find a glimmer of hope in the deepest, darkest abyss of.

And Yoongi couldn’t, didn’t want to stop the laugh bubbling out of him as the younger immediately linked hands with him. He tugged the other down till he was eye level, taking in the laugh lines around the eyes, wanting to put more there. He bumped their foreheads gently. Silently trying to convey the magnitude of what he felt. Hoping the younger demanded words…asked for better so Yoongi could give it to him already.

The pain in his chest eased completely.