Chapter Text
The seven o'clock client was always the hardest.
Not because of the workout itself. Jungkook could program a session in his sleep, he had been doing it long enough that it was second nature, the mechanics of creating a routine lived somewhere below conscious reasoning.
Seven o'clock was hard because his client, Son Minho, forty-three, desk job, bad left knee, had an absolute conviction that the reason he wasn't seeing results was that Jungkook wasn't pushing him hard enough. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, Minho carried with him this conflictual energy, like he had spent his commute building a case against Jungkook's routines. As a good trainer, he listened to his client's case, he changed exactly nothing, and by the forty-minute mark Minho was red-faced and grateful and all the conflict had sweated out of him.
It was, in its own way, satisfying. Progress was progress, even when the client couldn't see it yet. Jungkook could always see it.
He liked that about his job, actually. The slow buildup of strength and muscles toning, his clients managing to lift a little bit more every time. The challenging grin his clients wore when they noticed that he put that extra kilo on their bars.
He also enjoyed the easy chatter. Every client was different, each had their own lives, passions, intricacies, and, as a personal trainer, Jungkook heard the most variegated span of topics during a single working day. It was nice. Sometimes, he even learned something new.
By ten the floor had cycled through four more clients and Jungkook was on his break, sitting on the edge of the turf with a protein shake he wasn't tasting, doom scrolling on his phone.
He noticed that Taehyung had texted at nine forty-seven.
Tae-hyung
are you free tonight? hobi-hyung has a thing
Jungkook stared at the message for slightly longer than necessary, a habit he'd stopped trying to break sometime around the second year of university when he'd accepted, quietly and without ceremony, that he was in love with his best friend and that this was simply a fact about himself now, like being right-handed or unable to use a microwave.
He didn't really feel like going out, that night, but he wouldn't pass up on a chance to see Taehyung. They were as close as two peas in a pod during university years, but the inevitability of the busyness of adult life had reduced their time together significantly, so Jungkook had to make the most of the couple of days a week he got.
Kook
what kind of thing
The reply came immediately, which meant his best friend was between clients at the gallery or pretending to be busy at his desk.
Tae-hyung
a rap show. some underground venue hyung likes. his friend is performing, apparently he's incredible
please come. you always say you're going to branch out culturally and then you play the same three games for six months
and I haven't seen you in a week
I need my dose of Kookie
Jungkook smiled at his phone despite himself, his heart fluttering in his chest. This was the thing about Taehyung: he deployed Jungkook's nicknames like a weapon, knowing exactly that the younger was weak for him. He'd been doing it since they were nineteen and Jungkook had never once successfully resisted it, which Taehyung absolutely thrived off of.
Kook
fine
send me the details
Three heart emojis arrived in response. Jungkook locked his phone and finished his shake. Over the course of his next appointments, he tried to ignore the warmth spreading in his body at the thought of seeing the man he loved.
He managed to distract himself by thinking about what to wear.
Luckily, his eleven-thirty was a stylist.
Jungkook's apartment was on the fourth floor of a building in a good area of Seoul, lively but not too chaotic, and, most important feature of all, it was 12 minutes walking distance from the gym where he worked at.
Before he started getting ready for the night, he made himself some pasta and, after dinner, he pulled out his sketchbook.
Art has always been one of his greatest passions, something that he never concretely pursued but that he loved doing. He used every media possible to create art, from videomaking and photography to painting and doodling. There was nothing he wouldn't use to express himself.
He loved the act of translating his thoughts from inside his head into something tangible. He'd been doing it since high school, filling notebook after notebook, but he never showed most of it to anyone except Taehyung, who'd always appreciated Jungkook's art, and praised it without giving him unnecessary feedback. Even if Taehyung worked with some of the most renowned artists in Seoul, he raved about Jungkook's art as if he were Pollock, or something. Receiving Taehyung's attention so wholeheartedly was the main reason he showed him his creations in the first place.
He sketched without direction for a while, letting his mind wander, loose and associative, moving through the day and random thoughts.
Until it landed on the object of his heart's desires. It usually did.
This was how it had been for years: it was not dramatic or desperate love, rather a steady pull in one specific direction that Jungkook had learned to accept. He was content with the way things were.
Or maybe he was too much of a coward to risk their friendship.
Taehyung was easy to love. He was generous and strange and he faced life full of enthusiasm and warmth. Half the people who met him fell a little in love with him. Jungkook was just one of many, and also one of the few who was allowed the privilege to be one of Taehyung's closest friends. At least he'd had the sense to keep it quiet.
The hard part was everything that came along with being in love with his best friend. The way certain moments — his continuous little touches, his laugh with his beautiful boxy smile, him falling asleep on Jungkook's couch and looking young and unbothered — would take hold of his feelings and amplify them, burning Jungkook's heart for just a moment, before he suppressed it back. It happened regularly, so much so that it had become a bit of a drug. He couldn't quite picture what he'd feel like if he didn't have his feelings for Taehyung.
A habit of self, Namjoon had said once, about something else entirely. The phrase had stuck regardless.
Jungkook checked the time and closed the sketchbook. He was supposed to meet his hyungs at nine.
He put on a black denim jacket over his simple fit, just a black T-shirt and black denim pants, with chunky leather boots. He checked himself in the mirror. He looked fine. Jungkook was aware he was good-looking, he knew how people stared at him, and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it. It made him feel desired, appealing.
Pity that the only person he wanted to be desired by, only saw him as a friend.
Taehyung was waiting outside the venue with Hoseok, the two of them talking loudly and animatedly in the cold. Taehyung was wearing a long coat that was either a fashion statement or a mistake and somehow both, Hoseok had a bright orange bomber jacket that had no business working as well as it did. They were mid-conversation when Jungkook arrived and Taehyung broke off to hug him in greeting, that automatic physical ease he'd always had, and Jungkook held him to his body without thinking.
"You came," he said, breaking the hug, that big boxy smile on his face.
"I said I would."
"We were afraid this wouldn't be your kind of thing."
"I don't mind. I wanted to see you."
Taehyung smiled at him, his eyes crinkling, and Jungkook's heart thudded in his chest. He was saved by Hobi-hyung hugging him as well. Then the three of them made their way inside, in a sort of old industrial complex that had been remodeled as a club.
The venue had been divided into smaller rooms where different artists performed. Jungkook heard different tracks in the corridor, the sound muffled by the big, closed doors that concealed every space. Hoseok led them to one in particular. The walls were dark, the stage lit in a way that made everything feel slightly underwater. The place was already half-full, the DJ was playing some random hip hop music and people were casually dancing to it. Hoseok navigated it with familiarity, having been there before, and after they got their drinks he led them to a spot with a decent sight of the stage.
"His name is Agust D," the eldest told them, leaning in over the noise. "I mean, his stage name. He's incredible, I promise. You'll see."
"How do you know him?" Taehyung asked, nursing his fruity cocktail.
"We met through his brother, which is a fellow dancer. We've been producing stuff together ever since. He's— you'll see." He shrugged, with a small smile. "Ah, the first act is starting. It's not him."
It was a rap duo, and they were fine. Competent, energetic, good interactions with the crowd, who responded actively but not too enthusiastically. It was still too early. Hoseok nodded along appreciating the music. Among the three of them, he was the most knowledgeable one. His playlists were always sick and he chose the best tracks for his performances.
Taehyung was watching with his arms folded and his head tilted. He was bobbing his head but sometimes he wrinkled his nose when some verses were— not so great.
Jungkook was watching Taehyung.
This was not new. Watching Taehyung had become an almost involuntary habit over the years, something he did without even noticing at first. He was always aware of were Taehyung was, where his attention was at, whether he was building an opinion in his head or just enjoying the moment. He told himself it was just how he was with people he loved.
He didn't look too hard at that logic.
"He's up next," Hobi announced, excited, leaning in between them. The opening act was wrapping up, the stage being briefly reset. "If you don't like it, I don't know if we can be friends anymore."
"That's harsh," Taehyung giggled.
"It's not. I just know you both talk through things and I don't want you to miss it." Hoseok straightened up, looking toward the stage with expectant eyes. He took a long sip of his drink. "Trust me."
"You keep saying that," Jungkook said.
"Because I keep being right."
Jungkook opened his mouth to argue and the lights dropped.
Agust D walked onstage like he was just walking into his living room, without announcement, an easy leisure in his steps, just a new presence in the space, but he immediately commanded the attention of the whole room. He was smaller than Jungkook had expected, which caused his brows to raise. The man was lean, with long unkept dark hair, all clad in black oversized clothes. He stood at the mic and looked out at the room for a moment with flat, assessing eyes, reminiscing the eyes of a cat who didn't care much for who else was in the room.
He didn't introduce himself, he didn't greet the crowd, who had started cheering loudly when Agust D took his place on stage.
Then the beat dropped and his energy completely shifted.
The first song hit hard and low, the production underneath giving the perfect space for the words. Agust D's voice was deep and raspy, more spoken than sung in places, shooting lyrics like a machine gun, hitting the crowd with every syllable. His flow was immaculate, fast and strong, beating the room in sync with the music.
The guy was good.
Jungkook found himself listening with rapt attention.
Beside him, Taehyung had gone very still.
It wasn't the kind of still that meant that his mind had gone somewhere else. It was the opposite. All of Taehyung's considerable attention was focused in one direction and fully captured. His eyes were wide, taking it all in, his mouth agape, his drink forgotten.
Jungkook recognized it. He'd seen that expression in galleries, when Taehyung found a piece that stopped him. He'd seen it at the cinema, when a particular scene was built so well that Taehyung was left speechless. He'd seen it maybe a handful of times in his life and it always meant the same thing: this has struck some cords into Taehyung's soul.
Agust D had taken the mic out of the stand, and was now circling around the stage, hyping the crowd, bending over to deliver his most powerful lyrics. The crowd responded by jumping, dancing, hyping the rapper back up, giving back his energy two-fold and Jungkook watched Taehyung's lips part slightly and thought, with a sinking feeling: oh. this is going to be a problem.
Hoseok, to his left, was trying not to look smug, failing completely.
Between the first and second song Agust D said almost nothing. Just a nod to the crowd, unhurried, while the beat for the next track loaded. A few people screamed stuff — his name, some praise, random shouts — and he answered by pointing his finger at them and nodding, not adding much else.
Taehyung leaned close to Jungkook's ear. "This guy is amazing."
Reluctantly, he nodded. "He's good."
The second song was different in texture, more aggressive, Agust D's delivery sharper. The beat was mixed with Korean traditional instruments, so strong that Jungkook felt it echo in his ribcage, the violence of the content held in the stillness of the delivery. He rapped about freedom of expression and slavery to consumerism and capitalism. The crowd was hooked.
This song's simply about freeing what's forbidden
But you must remember to differentiate freedom from self-indulgence
This song's a haegeum
The crowd moved. Jungkook moved, despite himself, the music bypassing every intention and going straight to the body. He found himself nodding and then for a second he thought: Namjoon-hyung would lose his mind at this.
When the song ended, Taehyung was one of the loudest to cheer. He gestured to his friends that he wanted to get closer to the stage and then dived into the crowd.
The third song was the one who ruined everything.
Jungkook understood it from the first four bars. The production left more space for the anguishing lyrics. Agust D's stilled in the middle of the stage, his voice dropped, lower, closer, like the distance between performer and audience had shrunk to something uncomfortable and intimate at the same time.
The moment I'm flying high as I wished
My shadow grows in that blasting stark light
Please don't let me shine, don't let me down
Don't let me fly, now I'm afraid
The crowd was quieter during this one than the others, too busy absorbing the words instead of jumping and screaming.
The lyrics were raw and painful and real. Taehyung was once again entranced looking at the rapper, this time from a closer distance, his eyes bright and unmoving.
Jungkook's throat felt tight, he tried to forget it by taking a big gulp of his drink. It didn't help much.
Jungkook knew Taehyung. He had observed and collected in his mind every single expression the man was capable of. And this was the face Taehyung had when he had a crush on someone. It wasn't the first time he witnessed it. The pang in his heart oddly familiar. The longing pain of loving someone who was always, in some essential way, looking at someone other than you.
On the stage, Agust D moved into the final verse, unhurried as he'd been from the start, like he had all the time in the world to hand something sharp to every person in this room.
He did four songs total.
The last one was faster, a kind of release after the weight of the third, allowing the crowd to let go of the tension and fill the room with energy. Agust D started moving around again, gesturing wildly, responding to the electricity taking over the audience.
Sending listeners to Hong Kong with my rap
My tongue technology
Taehyung's face reddened, the metaphor clear and dirty. He exchanged a look with Hoseok and fanned himself, which made their hyung laugh and jokingly hit his arm a few times. Then, Hobi had the audacity to fucking wink at him, as if he knew exactly that Taehyung would have liked it.
As the song ended the applause was immediate and loud. Hoseok whooped, which was standard for him, and the sound was absorbed by the crowd chatting, commenting the set, buzzing with energy.
Taehyung was still clapping and cheering as Agust D climbed down the stage, and then he turned to look at Hoseok with gleaming eyes.
Jungkook clapped too, because the man was genuinely good, there was no possibility to look himself in the eyes and claim otherwise.
"So?" their hyung asked, turning to them with his arms out, extremely pleased with himself.
"He's good," Jungkook said first, his tone coming out flatter than he'd intended. "I mean, he's skilled—"
"He's extraordinary!" Taehyung interrupted him, stealing glances at the direction where Agust D was, chatting with the DJ and drinking some water. "I loved it. It was amazing. I need to see it again."
"I know," Hobi nodded, delighted.
"Who writes like that? That's not—" he stopped to find the right words. "It was so real and raw, it made me all tingly inside, like when I see a masterpiece." Tae grabbed his hyung's hand. "I need to meet him. I need to tell him all these things."
"Funny you'd say that," he replied, and he was not even trying anymore, the smugness had become obvious, it was load-bearing. "Because I told him we'd say hi."
Taehyung's mouth gaped. "Hyung."
"What?"
"Are you for real?"
The elder shrugged. "He's a cool guy, I'm sure he'll appreciate a new fan."
Taehyung looked at him for a long moment. Then he glanced at the stage, and Jungkook watched his eyes settle.
"Let's go say hi."
Jungkook put his hands in his pockets and felt his tongue push on his cheek. He would have liked to say something, to stop this nonsense, but he didn't have an appropriate reason for that. Hoseok didn't know about his feelings for Taehyung, and he couldn't find an excuse without compromising himself.
He followed his two hyungs towards the DJ booth, ignoring Taehyung's excited chatter and the question he asked Hoseok about whether he looked good. He watched him adjust his hair, retouch his lip balm, making sure that the jumping and cheering didn't ruin his appearance.
Jungkook didn't say anything, he didn't want to confirm his suspicions.
His cheek almost hurt from how much his tongue was digging into it.
Agust D was talking to someone near the side monitors when Hoseok approached, and when he spotted him his expression changed, something warmer and genuine taking place. He and Hoseok side-hugged with comfortable ease.
"You came," Agust D said. His speaking voice was lower than the performance voice, unhurried, raspy from having sang the entire set alone. Jungkook picked up an accent, but could pinpoint the origin.
"I told you I would," Hoseok said. "These are my friends. Taehyung and Jungkook. Guys, this is Yoongi, aka Agust D."
Agust D, or rather Yoongi, looked at them, taking them in with an assessing glance. He must have found something he liked, because his stance stayed relaxed.
"Hey," he greeted, raising his hand in a quick gesture. "Hope you liked the show."
"Your set was incredible," Taehyung said, excitement and admiration clear in his voice. "You're so good, it's unreal. Everything was so curated. How long have you been doing this?"
Something shifted in Yoongi's eyes, they turned warmer, interested. He wasn't surprised by the compliments, clearly used to them, but now he considered Taehyung with more attention.
"Since I was sixteen," he replied, with a small shrug, like his talent was something to be dismissed.
For Taehyung it wasn't.
"It shows," he said quickly, then stopped for a moment to gather his bearings. "I mean— You can hear it in your verses. They were so real and angry and all your emotions filtered through the crowd and—" He stopped again with a slightly embarrassed smile, his cheeks turning pink. It was a rare look on Taehyung, who was normally quite shameless in expressing his opinions.
Jungkook didn't know what to do with it other than observe the scene like a useless bystander.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm a photographer, sometimes I look at things too hard."
Min Yoongi appraised him for a moment. His eyes looking like a cat's when it saw something appealing on the wall. A small, half-grin grazed his lips. The pause was not uncomfortable, it was more like the rapper was used to taking his time doing things and the world just needed to get on the program.
"Don't apologize," he said, in the end. "You didn't say anything bad." His eyes strayed towards the bar, that was now a bit emptier, the crowd had moved to other rooms, other shows. "Want to get a drink? You've seen me perform, maybe you can show me some of your pictures."
It was unmistakable, Jungkook heard it in the tone, saw it in his now hooded eyes. The guy was flirting with Taehyung. And, if Taehyung's pink cheeks and wide smile were any indication, it was very welcome.
"I'd love to."
They started walking in the bar's direction, Yoongi's hand casually moving to Taehyung's lower back to guide him through the crowd. Before they left, his friend shot him a giddy smile and gestured something like i'll see you later.
Jungkook was appalled. His stomach tight and knotted with jealousy. How the fuck did this guy manage to sing four fucking songs and manage to flirt with the man he'd been in love with for more years than he could count while Jungkook was standing there like a fish out of water?
Hoseok appeared at his elbow. He had a satisfied smirk, like he'd just won a big prize.
"Great show, huh?"
"He's good," Jungkook mumbled again, against himself, because he couldn't afford to let his hyung see how much this was affecting him.
He felt an arm needle through his elbow and then his body being pulled away in the opposite direction of where Taehyung and Yoongi headed off to. "Let's go somewhere else, leave them alone for a while."
"What? They've only just met."
Hoseok looked at him weirdly. "Yoongi-hyung is a sweetheart, don't let his rap fool you. Taehyung is in good hands." He pulled him again. "C'mon, there's this hip hop girl group performing in a bit and I want to see them."
Despite being much bigger than his hyung, Jungkook let himself be pulled. Before exiting the room, he managed to find Taehyung.
He was laughing at something Min Yoongi said. They were standing awfully close to each other. His smile was big, beautiful, his head tipping back exposing his long, elegant neck, and the other man looked totally enamored with him.
His tongue pushed through his cheek again.
What a shit show, he thought.
On the way home, as Jungkook drove Taehyung home since Hoseok had decided to stay a bit longer, the brunette said Yoongi's name four times.
Jungkook's hands were tight on the wheel.
He hoped it wasn't going to last.