Chapter Text
“jungkook, this is your new intern, he’ll be doing your backgrounds.”
jungkook hums before he turns, pencil between his lips, and he blinks, somewhat lazily, feeling a bit tired from the past few nights, feeling his spine hurt when he sits back without hunching. there’s a man next to the chief editor, a shorter man, perhaps, and jungkook sees him as he would a drawing— his frame is nicely asymmetric, tousled, the shape of his shoulders a bit wide, the shape of his eyes a bit uncanny, a bit sharp, some hair covering it, bleached, white on page. their eyes meet. on page, he’d have been the mysterious love affair, or the ceo of a multimillionaire company, and both of those characters have a secret soft side from the way the collar of his sweater looks a bit dangly and worn out. right then, out of the page, he’s just— “min yoongi,” min yoongi says, voice bland and soft-spoken, almost colourless like his hair. “i’ll work hard.”
it takes a second before jungkook offers him a smile, holding the pencil, using it to scratch an itch at his neck. for some reason, he feels it hot under his collar. “jeon jungkook,” he says, standing, then, gesturing vaguely towards his table. “we’ll share the space,” it’s somewhat organised, in the way that jungkook sometimes will be. it isn’t often that he needs to work with someone, but the projects are getting bigger and his hands aren’t as fast. he hopes yoongi doesn’t mind the three different cups of coffee that have been sitting there for a few days, maybe. yoongi’s eyes wander about it, but he doesn’t look like anything in particular aside from mildly interested, thick black eyebrows just slightly curving. jungkook offers him his hand. “i look forward to working with you.”
“yes,” yoongi replies, nodding, looking his way again. his fingers are warm when they touch jungkook’s, and their hands are a strangely good fit, similar in the way jungkook sees the bony knuckles on all of his characters. he can only draw hands looking at his own, anyway.
i’ll steal him for now , the chief editor says, and jungkook watches her take him away, around the office, watches yoongi nod and offer small bows and gestures. he’s interesting to look at, jungkook thinks, absentmindedly. jungkook wonders what kind of works he’s done before, if his traces are as mellow-looking. then he looks away, clearing his throat, to the panels he’s been drafting, the text on the screen of his laptop. the storyline seems rather blunt now, almost disconnected. jungkook puts the pencil against the page again, frowning. maybe he should give that character better eyes. it’s only when yoongi approaches his desk that jungkook raises his head again, too enthralled in the shapes that he’s drawing, the sides of his fingers slightly smudged with graphite. by then it’s way past lunch time, and the office is empty. jungkook always stays behind. it’s usually when he works best. yoongi seems to say something, but jungkook only catches the last feel syllables, headphone dropping around his neck. “sorry, i—,” he swallows. “noise-cancelling,” yoongi blinks, then goes ah , seemingly understanding.
“i— i was saying i hope it isn’t awkward that i’m older than you.”
“you’re older than me,” jungkook repeats, momentarily surprised. he’s had assistants before, most of them interns gathering knowledge whilst in university, some nineteen, some twenty. “by a year?”
“by four,” yoongi seems to sniff, and he touches his nose, and it turns a bit pink. jungkook’s mouth opens, then closes. by four, which makes yoongi twenty-nine . “the chief editor said it wouldn’t be a problem, that the company is open-minded, but i understand if—“
“it’s not, no,” jungkook shakes his head, controlling his expression. it shouldn’t be . the company is open-minded.
“okay.”
they stare at each other for a moment before yoongi push his hands into his pockets, looking down at the table. jungkook looks down, too, at all the eyes sprawled on paper, at how all of them look oddly similar to yoongi’s. “aren’t you going to have lunch?”
“ah, i,” jungkook smiles weakly, pushing hair behind his ear. “i prefer to stay and work.” yoongi touches the back of the chair opposite to him, shifting on his weight. “yoongi-ssi, you can,” jungkook gestures, slightly discombobulated, unsure on how to address him suddenly. “you can sit down, it’s your desk, too.”
so he does, slowly, as if that’s the only way yoongi can move, gently, sort of small movements and careful sways. jungkook watches him take out an ipad from his bag, and the screen lights up with the picture of a galaxy. “these are,” he says, tapping lightly through drawings, scrolling. he turns the ipad jungkook’s way, pushing it over the table towards him. “these are some of my works.” they’re different from min yoongi, jungkook thinks immediately, reaching out to touch the screen. they’re symmetric, with sharp lines and geometrical endings, and everything about them is neat. jungkook looks up. then again, everything about yoongi is also neat, in a sense. yoongi finds his eyes after a moment. “you can tell me if they aren’t good enough for your panels.”
“they’re good,” jungkook says right away, embarrassed. “i just,” he stammers a bit, under yoongi’s stare. “your drawing style is a bit different than you, that’s all,” jungkook pushes the ipad back, adjusting himself on his chair. “it’s very sharp, and you are,” soft . he sees when yoongi’s eyebrows arch, and jungkook can’t help but flush, the heat reaching his ears. “it’s good, don’t worry.”
“i never worked in a place like this before,” yoongi tells him, after a pause. he looks around, to the other couple of desks where other artists write other stories. there’s only seven of them working, sharing the limited space. it’s a small publisher, even though a few of their latest works have gathered some attention. “i don’t really read webtoons either.”
“— no?”
“well, yours, i read it, when the editor chief called me back,” yoongi huffs, tapping on the ipad’s screen again until an app is brought up. “i’m on page twenty-seven.” he looks at the panels for a moment, eyes lingering. “i like how you draw buildings, though,” a small smile shows up at the corner of yoongi’s mouth. “they’re not perfect.”
there’s a moment of silence, and jungkook blinks, slightly taken aback, the compliment odd and disjointed, but a compliment , jungkook can tell from its warm hues. yoongi’s smile fades as he clears his throat, sitting back, scratching the back of his neck. “you’re very straight-forward,” jungkook touches his pencil. i guess , yoongi mutters. “i appreciate it.” he doesn’t truly meet yoongi’s eyes again, slightly nervous, but he nods. “i hope we can work well together, yoongi-ssi.”
“i’ll follow your lead,” yoongi offers, and it sounds honest.
“— okay.”
there’s a quietness about min yoongi, jungkook notices, as the minutes roll by. his voice is even and temperate, and his mood is agreeable and polite. yoongi isn’t aloof, though, jungkook soon realises— he observes jungkook as he draws, sketching characters for a new story, and every other time he’ll raise his eyes at him yoongi will be looking at jungkook’s hands, as if analysing how he holds the pencil. they’re different in the sense that jungkook prefers paper, and yoongi prefers digital, and his pen has to charge after a while, and so jungkook gives him one of his 6b, and it stains the sides of yoongi’s fingers the same way it does to jungkook. still, it’s difficult, in a day, to match their styles and profiles and ways of working. there’s an age gap between them that messes up their work dynamic, even if only barely. when the end of the day comes, and everyone is gathering their things to leave, yoongi extends him a plastic bag. jungkook looks at it, then at yoongi, slightly confused. “you didn’t eat,” yoongi explains. “you’re my senior in the company but i’m still older than you.”
“ah,” jungkook swallows, blushing, taking the bag. the dosirak of pork belly and fried rice bought at the downstairs convenience store is warm. i’ll be right back , yoongi had said, some thirty minutes earlier. he didn’t realise he’s brought food back. jungkook bows, fingers curling around plastic. “you didn’t have to.”
“it’s okay,” yoongi hangs his bag on his shoulder, the leather strap pressing over his clothes. “i’m going to go.”
“wait, i,” jungkook blurts, unsure. yoongi does wait, hands already hidden in pockets. “i take the new interns for a drink on their first day,” he gestures towards the rest of the team, stretching and picking up their belongings. “we all go together.” for a second, yoongi looks as if he finds the idea slightly unappealing. he looks at the others, raising his eyebrows. “it’s okay if you don’t want to go, they’ll understand.”
“i can go for a drink, i don’t mind,” and he shrugs.
“i’ll just — i’ll eat first, then.”
the team leaves to the bar as jungkook heats the food some more in the microwave of the miniature kitchen stuck in a square meter of their office. we’ll be there soon , he says, waving them off. yoongi stays behind, awkwardly standing by jungkook as if hesitant on how to react. jungkook hums in pleasure as he eats, chewing quickly, eyes closed. he was hungry, yes. “i’m sorry if this is uncomfortable,” the sentence is quiet, and when jungkook opens his eyes, yoongi is looking at him. “me being your assistant.”
“no, it’s fine, yoongi-ssi,” jungkook mumbles, swallowing with some difficulty. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and yoongi pushes the small pile of paper napkins towards him. “it isn’t uncomfortable.” he puts the box down, picking a slice of pork belly, holding it between his chopsticks. “— aren’t you hungry?” yoongi starts saying something, something like i ate something, it’s okay, it’s fine , so jungkook offers him the box and the chopsticks. “it’s best to eat before drinking.”
“alright,” yoongi huffs, ears red showing through light hair. it’s just a few minutes until they finish, sharing the chopsticks as if they’re somehow friends of long date. it doesn’t feel that awkward, just new. everything is put in the bin, and jungkook takes yoongi around the office to show him where the light switches are. they’re in the elevator when yoongi speaks again. “— is everyone else,” he starts, raising his head a little, turning to look at jungkook. “around your age?” yoongi nibbles on his lip for a second.
“ah, yes,” jungkook nods, offering up a smile that seems too weak. “haewon is our youngest, she’s twenty-one.” ah, i see , yoongi seems to mutter, and jungkook notices how he picks the side of his nails as if nervous. the elevator door opens, and they walk out together, shoulders pressing against each other as the door frame isn’t wide enough. jungkook bows his head, apologetic, sorry . the air outside is cold with the clingy remains of winter still making nights like that rather frigid. yoongi shudders, pulling his jacket around himself more tightly. beside jungkook, like that, under the faint yellow light of a street lamp, he looks younger and smaller and more delicate. maybe not the CEO, but the secretary, the one that’s pretty and nice and unfortunately doesn’t get the love interest in the end. yoongi looks his way, then, noticing jungkook’s stare. jungkook swallows, looking ahead. “it’s just a few blocks down.”
“— have you been an artist for a while?”
“yeah,” jungkook nods. “i didn’t go to university, so i started right away.”
“no university?” there’s no tone to that question, it’s simply a question, plain, words low. most of the time jungkook’s face with some sort of judgement, some sort of disappointment. no, no university, he half-shrugs. yoongi hums, an airy kind of huh . “it seems nice, being an artist.”
“it’s difficult sometimes,” jungkook offers, then adds, quietly: “financially, i mean,” it’s not always that he did so well or that his stories were popular. he had to find a niche and readers and a style, and it took him a few years. a few years sleeping on hoseok’s couch, unable to afford rent. “now it’s alright.”
“i don’t know how to fit in very well,” yoongi seems to confess, and jungkook looks sideways at him, at the way strands of his hair sort of sway as they walk. he has his ears pierced, jungkook notices, then. the hoops suit him. “i was an architect.”
“— was?”
“ah, yes,” a huff follows, and yoongi meets his eyes. “we filed for bankruptcy a few months back.” jungkook blinks, somewhat surprised, but not really. his straight, precise lines were telling of training. still, bankruptcy . he doesn’t know what that feels like. jungkook feels rather childish, suddenly, his problems those of a different generation entirely, even though they’re not that far apart. “i couldn’t find a job for a while, my name was— anyway.” they’re approaching the bar, walking by tipsy groups of friends and daring couples, averting eyes to the way they kiss. there’s the sound of music, and it overlaps with the sound of voices and cars driving by. jungkook breathes out, bringing his hands up to touch his earlobes. “— are you okay?”
“yeah, just,” he sniffs. “it’s nothing, really.”
the rest of the team howls and waves at them when they arrive, and yoongi is quickly dragged and sat in between the girls, and everyone wants to pour him a drink, and his cheeks get quickly crimson-flushed with soju. jungkook joins in, grateful for the way alcohol seems to numb the noises the slightest, the way they’re not as loud as long as he focus on the taste in the back of his throat and the way yoongi smiles with his teeth and gums when he’s slightly shy. he’s strange in a good way, jungkook thinks, briefly. he was wrong about him being the CEO or the second love affair, though. yoongi seems to be a unique kind of character, the kind that gets his own light novel at some point, the protagonist of a spin-off. he doesn’t look away when yoongi looks at him from across the table, still laughing at something daehyun has said, his eyes smaller and wrinkled at the corners. jungkook sighs, and it’s audible only for him. yoongi reaches out, over the table, both his hands cupping jungkook’s ears, and the noises get muffled. it is immediately easier to breathe. someone makes a joke about it, though, and yoongi pulls his hands away, face all red, looking sheepish. jungkook blinks, confused. they don’t really get to speak by themselves, the team talking over each other as they do when they drink, but eventually someone comments it’s almost ten and they should get going, that it is only tuesday, we shouldn’t stay out too late . jungkook staggers, a bit dizzy, and someone holds his waist. they all walk out together, bowing and saying their farewells at the station’s entrance, parting to different lines and colours. then it’s only the two of them again, looking down at the escalators where their coworkers giggle drunkenly still. “i like them,” yoongi says, then, and his words are a bit slurred. “are they going to be fine?”
“yeah, we often go out,” jungkook chuckles, kicking the sidewalk with the toe of his shoes. “i’m— i live nearby.” he clears his throat. “are you going to get home okay?”
“ah, yeah, i’ll grab a taxi,” yoongi smiles, nodding.
“why,” jungkook wet his lips, feeling a bit nervous. “why did you do that—?” he raises his hands, pretending to cover his ears. yoongi’s cheeks seem to get a hue deeper.
“you looked uncomfortable,” he answers, voice low. a few people walk past them, towards the entrance. yoongi holds the side of jungkook’s arm, pulling him out of their way gently. they step a bit closer to each other, and it’s daunting, in a way. jungkook feels nervous of all of a sudden, as if they’re on a date or doing something they shouldn’t be doing at all. it isn’t a date. they have known each other for less than a few hours. “i have to go, it’s getting late,” yoongi lets go, taking a step back. jungkook nods. “thank you for today,” a wave follows, and then his hands disappear inside his pockets once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow— sunbae.”
“see you, yoongi-ssi.”
he doesn’t mean to, but jungkook takes a few minutes to turn away, watching as yoongi walks the opposite direction. he only turns, quickly, when yoongi looks behind his shoulder, their eyes finding each other only barely. jungkook exhales heavily, forcing himself to walk back home. he lives the closest, out of everyone in the office— just across the street from it, the loft small and tucked in between two bigger apartments. there are potted plants on the window, and he’s left the sink dripping. jungkook breathes, shutting it off properly, flicking the lights on. his bed is still unmade. it’s quiet inside, the windows blocking the sounds from outside. jungkook presses his back against the counter with a stuttery kind of sigh. he raises his hands to his ears, for a moment, closing his eyes.
the meeting, some three weeks later, goes as follows: jungkook’s late, and the shirt he had been sleeping in shows from under his sweater, even though he tries to hide it. yoongi offers him coffee without muttering words. jungkook gives him the mechanical pencil he has promised to lend him, the one he almost couldn’t find that morning. the chief editor clears her throat, and she sits back against her chair. “they’re closing the office for a while,” she announces. the team springs to life, mumbling, blinking, eyes wide— what? is that because the last volumes were delayed? they should hire more people, will we be fired? — jungkook swallows, waiting. he can tell yoongi is picking at the reddish flesh around his nails already. it means he’s nervous, jungkook has learned; “it’s for some time as we put out a new project,” she raises her hands, looking apologetic. “to cut costs and avoid unemployment we’ll work remotely for a month or two, by then we’d have published the new enterprise.”
“ bujangnim — what about our ongoing webtoons?”
“artists will still work on them,” jungkook watches her shrug, and knows whatever meeting she has had, it was way worse than this one. “our jungkook-ssi will sign the new project, his last work was well-received,” most of the team nods and agrees, patting his arm, congratulations, jungkook-ah . jungkook smiles, but it’s small and abashed. “narrative and panel board drafts are expected soon, so please split your work amongst each other to better use our resources.”
“can,” jungkook raises his hand gently, gesturing. “can yoongi-ssi still do the backgrounds?” yoongi turns to look at him, jungkook can tell. “i’d like for us to keep working together.” it isn’t because of yoongi’s low timbre, or the way his hands look as if drawn, or the way he does things silently, eyes sharp when they’re focused and soft and rounded when he’s listening. it’s because jungkook feels like his lines, the precision in them, the carefulness, they somewhat match jungkook’s loose, reckless streaks, that they compliment the roughness of jungkook’s edges. “and haewon can be the inker,” he adds quickly, so those things aren’t as obvious.
“that’s alright,” the editor nods, and she taps her fingers lightly against the table. “now, for the theme,” she looks mildly unsure, for a second or two. “our target readers are young women, and we’ve been putting out romances since the start, but we’ll be trying for something different,” the team waits, curious. jungkook wonders if he can write about anything other than people falling in love. he doesn’t read fantasy or science-fiction. he has little interest in mecha. “we’re branching out to more mature themes, and incorporating diverse love stories in it.”
there’s a chorus of excited cheers that rush through the team, and the girls giggle, and jungkook looks over at yoongi, watching his eyebrows raise. mature themes, diverse love stories . jungkook swallows, adjusting himself on his chair, peeling his eyes away from yoongi’s figure. he knows what the editor means, it’s easy to tell. he’s never dated another man before, even though he knows attraction is real and more often than not clings onto him. the slight frown of society makes him anxious enough. “i’ll do my best,” jungkook bows his head a little.
“briefings will be sent out in a few, after lunch you can already head home.”
the desk they share is more cluttered than before, and jungkook thinks he’ll miss it a bit. yoongi rounds it, pulling his chair to sit. jungkook touches the very green leaves of the plant yoongi has brought at some point (“a friend owns a flower shop,” he had mumbled), feeling its texture. he feels awkward all of a sudden. yoongi slips into work rather quickly, pulling out some of the background work he’s been doing for another one of their stories. his pencil and fingers work seamlessly against the screen of his ipad. he seems to notice after sometime that jungkook is still standing by the desk, watching him draw. he raises his head, eyebrows arching. “— is everything okay?”
“yeah,” jungkook pushes out a smile, and his chair makes a sound when he rolls it back. “you always look calm when you draw,” he comments, and yoongi huffs, touching his nose. “it’s nice to watch.”
“do you,” it’s difficult to stare, so jungkook doesn’t. “do you have an idea for what story you want to tell?”
“ah,” jungkook hums. “not yet.”
“you write well,” the compliment is warm at the ends, because yoongi smiles. “whatever you write— it feels real.” jungkook thinks on the messy scripts written in energy-drink induced highs and feels slightly embarrassed. “and then you bring everything to life.” he lifts his eyes, finally, but yoongi’s still drawing, his words like a stream of consciousness echoed out loud. “like an architect.”
for some reason, jungkook’s heart flips. he swallows, feeling immensely too unfit, palms clammy, lungs burning as he holds his breath. he’s been complimented before, and there’s a trophy for a best selling piece from the webtoon app on his desk, but— yoongi’s quiet words, the softness in them, the honesty, it all makes jungkook’s heart go thump, thump , an arrow piercing straight through. “we will have to meet sometimes, to check our files together,” he starts, voice rather faint. yoongi looks up, too, blinking as if unaware he had been talking. “if that’s okay.”
“yes, that’s— it’s work, it’s okay.”
“right, good, and today,” yoongi waits, and jungkook breathes out, too aware of the blush about himself. “i never bought you lunch, so, if you want to, we could—“
“right,” there’s an awkward pause. their dynamic is a strange one, and jungkook most often than not doesn’t know exactly how to talk to yoongi, how to— manage him . he’s older, more experienced, but not in this field, where jungkook’s far ahead. he sighs, frustrated. “i didn’t want to sound put off,” yoongi quickly says, and his cheeks get rosy. “i want to have lunch with you.”
for a second, jungkook doesn’t say anything. then, quietly, pushing his hair away from his face: “— do you?”
“you’re my— project manager, so, yes,” yoongi smiles. it looks earnest and it looks soft. jungkook blushes more deeply.
it somehow feels something other than just— taking an intern out as it is expected of him, and jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip, failing to focus on the lines he needs to draw. he closes his eyes for a moment, only opening them when something touches his fingers. yoongi has pushed the noise-canceling headphones close, even though he pretends he hasn’t, eyes trained on the screen of his ipad, pencil poking his cheek. jungkook can’t help but smile, heart skipping a beat in his chest, making him breathless for a second. it’s the kind of feeling he writes about, the thump, thump drawn on page, the way characters' eyes go round with surprise and understanding that their heart is beating for someone else . jungkook blinks at his blank page, all sounds gone, and he hasn’t put on the headphone yet. he starts drawing.
around midday, the office starts emptying out, coworkers saying their goodbyes, tables getting clearer. jungkook stands, stretching, and he doesn’t have much— he works mostly on paper, and the pc he has at home is enough to do the rest of the work. yoongi doesn’t seem to have much either. “take the plant,” he says, offering the small pot to jungkook. “you said you didn’t have any at home.”
“ah,” he huffs. “really? it’s yours.”
“it’s not mine, i bought it for you,” yoongi says, too easily, completing quickly: “for your desk.”
“— right,” they look at each other briefly, but jungkook looks away. “thank you.”
“where are we going for lunch?”
“i— didn’t think it through,” jungkook blushes on his ears. he holds the plant against his chest, breathing out. “what do you like to eat?”
“i eat anything,” yoongi’s soft-spokenness comes from too close, and jungkook has to remember to follow him towards the exit, his feet rather heavy. “i’m not picky.”
“there’s a place i like,” he offers, their shoulders touching as they take the elevator. “it’s quiet.”
it’s a small restaurant tucked into a too-tall building near the company’s one. there’s only two tables, jungkook knows, and they’re more often not empty. his hidden spot, when the mess of the office gets too much and noise is tangible. it’s the first time he shares that place, and he looks sideways at yoongi, watching his profile for a second, the roundness and softness of it. maybe he isn’t suited for big dramatic love stories, maybe his character would be an ordinary man, falling in love with— he missteps, blinking, and yoongi reaches out, touching his arm. “— are you nervous?” yoongi asks, pulling away after a moment. “you seemed distracted just now.”
“ah— no,” they walk in, and jungkook holds the door for yoongi, waiting. “not about the home office, we’ve done it before to cut costs, it’s—nothing, really.”
the older lady behind the counter greets him with a sign, smiling. jungkook smiles back, how are you, ahjumma? , he signs, and she nods, the corners of her eyes wrinkled. i’m better now that our jungkook is here . yoongi watches their exchange, eyebrows just slightly arched. he probably sees when jungkook reddens, the stream of compliments difficult to bear when he isn’t alone. “ah, this is min yoongi-ssi,” he says as he signs, stealing a glance at yoongi. jungkook likes the way yoongi immediately raises his hands, but he looks unsure. “hello,” he explains, signing. yoongi copies his gesture, a bit awkwardly. it makes her smile, nonetheless.
they sit at one of the tables, the plastic menu a bit greasy to the touch. “— that was really nice,” yoongi starts, his voice a different hue, one that matches the red on his cheeks. “how did you learn it?”
“coming here,” he shrugs. “i wanted to be able to say thanks,” jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “it shouldn’t be something impressive.”
“teach me when you have the chance,” yoongi offers, softly. “i would like to learn.”
the plant sits between them, and soon bowls of udon follow, and yoongi hums as he eats, smiling a bit at his dish as if pleasantly surprised. they don’t talk for a while, but it’s often like that between them— the noises subdued, the chatter outside low, the clink of metal chopsticks, the comfortableness in sharing silence. it’s only when they’re done, that jungkook offers, somewhat low: “you eat well,” he huffs. “thank you for joining me, yoongi-ssi.”
“ah, isn’t that my line?” yoongi touches the tip of his nose, and the puts his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand. he looks sleepy. “i’m nervous.”
“about the company?” jungkook guesses. “they won’t cut you off, not if,” he gestures, trying not to look as if his heart has picked up speed. “not if you’re working with me.” yoongi looks at him, paying attention. jungkook feels rather exposed, even though he doesn’t know why. “i like the way you draw the backgrounds, they’re— i think they fit the stories i want to tell.”
“i’m glad,” yoongi sniffles, sitting back again, shifting. “i’m sorry if i’m a burden— being older.”
“you’re not, no, i— you’re not.”
“how does it work now?” the question is small, maybe somehow unsure. “i can send you the drawings through our cloud, but—“
“if you want,” jungkook swallows, suddenly all too shy. “if you want you can come to my place, and,” he breathes out. “we can work together.”
“do you live far?”
“no,” he shakes his head. “just — across from the company.”
“ah,” yoongi nods. “— today?”
they somehow look at their empty bowls, the conversation stirred to awkwardness. it happens often. jungkook regrets asking at once. maybe he’s being a pushover. “maybe— some other day, if today’s not—“
“we need to improve our communication skills, jungkook-ssi,” yoongi suggests, voice gentle and warm. it makes jungkook chuckle, some fluttering in his chest. “maybe— working together will be good.”
“alright,” he nods, and there’s some sort of joy from knowing yoongi wants to somehow be close. closer. not physically, just— better at what they are now. it’s not friendship per se. not yet, at least. jungkook wouldn’t mind it. “i’ll just settle the bill,” he says, pushing his chair back to stand. he can tell he’s being watched as he replies to the ahjumma’s inquiries, and it makes the back of his neck burn.
“thank you for the food,” yoongi tells him after they say their goodbyes to the older lady, and he copies jungkook’s signs more easily. “it was really nice.”
“i should buy more often,” jungkook presses the plant to his chest again, sighing inwardly, some leftover awkwardness still clinging to him.
“i’d like to buy you food, too,” yoongi says, head turning his way. jungkook keeps his eyes fixed ahead.
“you already do, all the time,” and he means all the lunch boxes yoongi casually leaves on his shelf of the refrigerator, the ones they try not to talk about too much, for some reason.
“i meant like this,” yoongi mumbles somehow. “out of office.”
“ah,” they walk towards jungkook’s blocky building, and his mouth dries up somehow. “maybe, yes.”
he shouldn’t have said maybe, he knows, it’s bad for the narrative, it makes the reader think there’s a possibility things will not happen. jungkook presses his thumb against the reader, breathing out. it beeps green, the glass door sliding. yoongi’s steps are light, all the way into the apartment, and jungkook has strange sensation that he's bringing home a date and not his coworker. it’s hindering, making his heart too quick. yoongi looks around the place, seemingly interested, a nice arch to his eyebrows as he takes off his shoes, stepping into the slippers jungkook offers. “double height ceiling,” he comments, chin lifting upwards. “i like your fixtures.”
“i changed them when i moved in,” jungkook says, warmth on his ears, putting the plant on the table. “it’s an old building.”
“it’s quiet.”
“ah,” there’s a pause. jungkook drops some of his notebooks, and pencils roll away from his jittery fingers. yoongi picks them up. “the apartment is soundproof, that’s why.”
“— it must be good for sleeping.” the sentence is quiet, and yoongi turns to look towards jungkook’s bed, and it is made, the sheets tucked into the frame. “i live near a train station now,” yoongi huffs. “it’s hard to sleep.”
“you lived somewhere else before?”
“yes,” they move about each other, and yoongi touches the objects he can get a hold onto, turning them around to look at them, the different kinds of pencils, the colouring pens, the brushes. “i had to turn it in, because of the,” yoongi gestures. “the whole thing.”
“— i’m sorry.”
“it’ okay,” there’s a definite shrug, and so jungkook doesn’t continue onto the topic, unsure on how to thread it in the first place. “i like your kotatsu.”
“i bought it when i got my first pay check,” he huffs. “there’s no heating in the apartment.”
they shift into their work personas fairly easy after the small talk, settling about the table, and jungkook brings out his laptop while yoongi sketches on his ipad, every other time turning it towards jungkook for approval. jungkook makes them coffee, and the afternoon carries on almost slowly. the kotatsu is warm, and their legs are pressed together under it. jungkook feels his eyes heavy, and he nods off once or twice. yoongi says, then, at some point: “you can sleep, if you want,” he smiles. “i won’t tell anyone.”
“i can’t, i need to draft the storyline,” jungkook chuckles, stifling a yawn, and yoongi gets up, muttering i’ll get you more coffee, artist-nim , and it makes him all breathy. “yoongi-ssi— what would you write about?”
“for the new webtoon?” yoongi looks his way for a second, as jungkook nods. some coffee drips down the side of the mug, and he wipes a thumb over it, licking it clean rather automatically. jungkook pretends he didn’t see it. “i’d like for the stories in it to be happy, i think.” the mug is warm to touch when yoongi offers it back, and so are his fingers. “love stories, like the ones you already write.”
“won’t these be any different, though?”
yoongi groans as he sits down again. “why?” he shrugs. “it’s still about humans falling in love, isn’t it—?” jungkook feels himself flush, because he realises how his phrase came out, and how filled with prejudice his syllables sounded like. “ love is not over is a second chance romance, with haneul-ssi and jihwan-ssi, but it could have been haneul-ssi and her childhood friend, couldn’t it?”
“you’re right,” jungkook nods, embarrassed.
“i— maybe that’s crossing the line,” yoongi clears his throat. “you’re still my senior.”
“it’s not, no, you’re right.” the awkwardness starts to settle, and jungkook doesn’t like it, so he pushes the words out, forcefully even: “— are you dating anyone?”
yoongi blinks, cheeks reddening slightly. “no,” there’s a pause. “are you?”
“no, i haven’t— i haven’t dated in a while.” he doesn’t look at yoongi as he continues, eyes fixed on the page full of character studies. “hypothetically, if,” jungkook shrugs. “if you were to date a man, what— how would you like your story to develop?”
“ah, i don’t think i need a grand kind of love,” yoongi sniffles, and he shrugs in a way that makes him look smaller. he looks cute, like that, his knees pressing against jungkook’s underneath the kotatsu, his hair slightly messy, his nose pink like his lips. jungkook catches himself staring, and it makes his heart beat all wrong. “just a good one,” he huffs. “like haneul-ssi and jihwan-ssi.”
jungkook smiles. “ yah, yoongi-ssi , you really liked that webtoon.”
“yes, i did,” yoongi nods. they look at each other, and jungkook is faintly aware he should look somewhere else, but can’t. “— your coffee will grow cold.”
that startles him, and jungkook hums, nodding vehemently, taking the mug again, swallowing too much, eyes watering up. yoongi is polite enough to pretend he didn’t see it, the soft tap, tap, tap of his pencil against the screen of his ipad joining the reckless beating of jungkook’s heart. he starts sketching, then, joining once again their comfortable silence, and his paper has coffee droplet stains, and every single character he comes up with look familiar. it’s around nine, and the lights outside have shifted, that jungkook looks up, and he blinks, and he realises, too quickly— “you fell asleep,” yoongi says, and he’s wearing his glasses again. “i didn’t want to wake you up.”
“you should have, i—”
“i did some of your line work, so you could sleep,” the pages are offered back. “there’s— there’s some food, too, i ordered.”
“— did you eat?”
“no, i was waiting,” yoongi smiles. “everyone’s going out to drink, i thought we could join them.” ah , jungkook lets out, slightly surprised. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just wanted to make sure you were okay before i—”
“yeah, no, let’s— let’s go out.”
the portions of kimchi fried rice and side dishes are quickly shared, and jungkook knows he should shower before heading off but he isn’t brave enough to offer yoongi to shower too— maybe it’s too friendly, it’s stepping over lines in their scenes boxes and making the whole thing crooked. by the time they leave, it’s past ten. seoul glitters, like it does every night. it’s noisy, seoul, its large avenues running with traffic, pumping life into it. the bar they’re headed to is messy, loud. jungkook shrinks, almost, as glasses clink. yoongi sits beside him, and somehow jungkook is grateful he’s there. drinks come and go easily. alcohol always helps. at some point he doesn’t feel so jittery, so mindful of the sheer amount of noise around him. at some point, when someone breaks an empty bottle of beer by mistake and the sound of it startles jungkook, yoongi reaches out almost immediately, touching over his fingers, clutching at them softly. it’s a small gesture. jungkook turns to look at him, and yoongi’s flushed from the soju he’s been drinking. he doesn’t acknowledge what is happening under the table. jungkook doesn’t either, then, swallowing. yoongi holds his hand for a while, until jungkook moves to pick another bottle, letting it go automatically, feeling the strange sensation of loss almost at once. he drinks, then, somewhat to numb— the noise, the loss, he doesn’t know. a suggestion for a club follows. jungkook giggles, and it’s easy to go along. yoongi is dragged with them, despite the small voice saying he doesn’t fit in clubs that well, he goes, laughing at the other’s jokes, looking just slightly nervous at the prospect of clubbing with the lot of them. jungkook wants to say he understands, but words feel rather mumbly when they come out, and once he’s engulfed by the bass and the neon and the loudness of the club, he forgets everything all too easily, overwhelmed by the hyperbole of it all.
the noise though, the noise soon seeps inside in harsh ways. the repeated bump, bump, bump, bump of the electro track playing bothers him, and jungkook closes his eyes, hands coming to curl themselves around his ears. it isn’t enough, not enough to— another pair of hands join his, and it gets slightly better, and it’s yoongi again there, shorter, worried-looking min yoongi, slight frown to his face. his hands feel warm, albeit a bit sweaty. breathe out , he can see yoongi’s mouth move. jungkook does so, air coming out hot. breathe in . for a minute, they stay like that, pressed together by the mass of people, jostled and uncomfortable on a dancefloor, looking at each other. jungkook feels the slight panic subdue. yoongi looks towards the exit, tilting his head towards it. let’s go .
his arm is taken, then, and yoongi walks him carefully through the neon, the back of his hair all indigo from the lights. jungkook feels the sound like a thrum now, or maybe it’s his heart, and yoongi’s eyebrows raise when jungkook touches his wrist, stopping them halfway, and he needs badly to mute that sound and the only wait to do it is— yoongi gasps, he can tell, he sucks the air in right before jungkook presses their mouths together, words caught up in between. white noise is immediate, ringing. jungkook feels when yoongi’s lips gap, the tentative, slow, unsure way he kisses back, and jungkook sighs against him when yoongi raises his hands again, pressing them over jungkook’s ears. but then yoongi pulls back, their noses bumping. “let’s not do this,” jungkook can hear his voice, though, close. “i’ll help you home, jungkook-ssi.”
“it was just—,” jungkook tries, not knowing what to say. “to mute the sounds.”
“i know,” yoongi huffs, starting back, and his hair is all purple now, stained. outside, the loud seoul has quieted down. it almost feels too empty without it. yoongi fiddles with his phone, getting jungkook a car. “i— i left my things in your apartment, i’ll pick them up and leave.”
“— can we walk for a bit?” for a second or two, jungkook thinks yoongi will say no, but he puts his hands in his pockets and nods, looking the other way. it’s awful, that silence. it’s not the kind they often shared, it’s a confusing, strange one, and jungkook dislikes it immensely. yoongi seems uncomfortable, the distance between them rather poignant. jungkook swallows. “misophonia,” he starts, then, quietly. “— that’s what it’s called.”
a moment passes. yoongi sniffs. “what is it?”
“noise can get,” jungkook shrugs, looking at his feet. “difficult, i guess.”
“are you feeling better now?”
“yes,” they stop at a corner, the train station is still open just up ahead, and they’re coloured by the white and yellow light of a convenience store sign. “i shouldn’t have— i shouldn’t have kissed you, i was not thinking.”
“maybe i should swap projects,” yoongi offers, sighing. jungkook lifts his head, looking at him. “if you’re not—”
“don’t,” jungkook asks, and he almost reaches out, catching himself last minute. “don’t swap projects, yoongi-ssi.” he sees the slight struggle in yoongi’s demeanor. “please.”
“— should we forget about it, then?”
there’s something about that question, something blue about it. jungkook feels his heart weakening, his chest slightly compressed by guilt. yoongi sounds— disappointed. he doesn’t know why exactly, or what it means that he is. “yes,” he says, then, and yoongi only nods. “it could have happened between— any of us, from the team, it’s— i wasn’t thinking.”
“right,” yoongi starts, and then he exhales, and he looks away. a step is taken backwards. jungkook stays still. “i’ll take you home.”
“i’m sorry,” jungkook lets out, and it feels raspy on his tongue.
“jungkook-ssi,” there’s a pause. “just wait here, i’ll— i’ll be back.”
yoongi walks past him, and jungkook turns to watch him go into the convenience store, feeling rather gutted and rather ashamed. the reality of having kissed yoongi settles into his bones, in a way. it was fast, but it was a kiss. it shouldn’t have happened. jungkook bites the inside of his cheeks. it doesn’t take long for yoongi to come out again, and he offers jungkook a bottle of water, and— earphones. jungkook blinks, frowning. “why—,” he starts, but yoongi opens the package easily, and jungkook jolts when yoongi puts them in his ears.
“when i get nervous, i listen to the rain,” yoongi’s mumbling, fiddling with his phone again. the sound of rain follows a few taps. jungkook sucks the air in. “it helps.”
“— aren’t you angry at me?” jungkook asks, then. yoongi looks up at him. “for kissing you.”
“you shouldn’t feel guilty for something you can’t control and i,” he seems to swallow, shaking his head. “i don’t have a right to feel hurt by it.”
hurt . jungkook shifts on his weight. the sound of rain is loud, so he removes one of the earphones, and he puts it in yoongi’s ear instead. yoongi stares. “i like working with you, and i made a mistake,” jungkook says, voice slightly shaky. “if you want to— report my behaviour, it’s—”
yoongi huffs, smiling a bit. “jungkook-ssi, it’s forgotten.” jungkook’s mouth closes, and he feels himself grow warmer. “it’s okay.”
ah, there it is . the weird pain again, aching in between his ribs and jungkook isn’t sure where it comes from exactly, how to pinpoint its trajectory back to the starting point. he only nods, then, and they move seamlessly, close, the earphone hanging in between them. the sound of rain helps, it’s true. jungkook somehow finds himself focusing on it, letting his eyes closing on the train, the tilting of the world under his feet just mild now. he’s gotten drunk before and he’s done stupid things before. they’ll forget about it. “this is my stop,” he mutters, gesturing up, and yoongi follows wordlessly. “do you want to,” jungkook finds himself asking, as they reach the building. “have another beer and—,” yoongi looks at him, maybe surprised. “we can work a bit more.”
“it’s almost two in the morning,” yoongi responds, and the earphone escapes from his ear, and they both move to catch it. “maybe,” he clears his throat. “one more beer, and another sketch.”
work helps, that’s true. they settle down under the warm kotatsu again, as if they never left, bottles of heineken sweating on the surface, wetting the corners of jungkook’s papers. he sketches, mind a bit hazy still. yoongi watches, and sometimes leans closer, and sometimes his pencil goes tap, tap, tap on the screen of his ipad. it’s as if time didn’t move, and they’ve stayed there in the apartment, and that kiss never happened. maybe that’s for the better , jungkook tells himself, just before realising the character he’s drawing looks so much like the man sitting next to him, the same soft contours, different from his usual style. “fuck,” he mutters before scratching at his eyes, suddenly too confused.
“i can leave,” yoongi offers, gently.
“i— yoongi-ssi, how was the kiss like?” the question is sudden and it comes out rushed, and jungkook’s mind tries to patch up the holes of taste and scent and feel of it without being able to. “how am i supposed to write a love story if i don’t know what it feels like— being with a man?”
“ah,” yoongi flushes, and he sits slightly straighter. “i—”
“i’m— i like men, i’m,” jungkook sighs, and hides his face on his arms, forehead heating the surface of the table with a dull thump . “i just have never— been with one properly.”
he stills, feeling yoongi’s fingers touch his hair. it’s gentle, that touch. “are you drunk, jungkook-ssi?” the question is full of amusement, and it makes jungkook chuckle, shaking his head, still hiding. no , he mutters in response. i don’t know . “you’re rambling.”
“ yah, intern min yoongi ,” he laughs, then, and yoongi’s fingers scratch at this scalp. they feel good. jungkook’s shoulders get less tense. “— you didn’t answer.”
“it was fast,” yoongi huffs. “it didn’t feel bad.”
“no,” jungkook agrees, swallowing. “it didn’t.”
“jungkook-ssi, — i should leave.”
“you’re so formal,” jungkook raises his head, then, finding yoongi’s eyes, and yoongi retreats, fingers curling against his palm. “you’re older.”
“you’re still a senior.”
“not here.”
a sigh follows, and yoongi seems slightly embarrassed. “jungkook, i should leave,” he repeats, the formal tones left aside, and somehow jungkook finds himself flushing, neck warming up. “we’ll forget about it.”
“yoongi,” the name is tried only faintly, and jungkook wets his lips. “— you can stay over, it’s late enough.”
“i’m still older than you,” yoongi says, but his lips are curling upwards, and he gives a soft kick at jungkook’s legs with his ankle under the table. it makes jungkook laugh weakly. “i might make too much noise, it’ll bother you.”
“do you snore?”
“maybe,” jungkook’s still laughing, and he knows he feels weirdly giddy and it might be the lingering beer. “you should get a good night of sleep, artistnim .” yoongi gestures towards the papers, a small smile still on his face. “you don’t want your characters looking like a bankrupt 30 year-old.”
“you’re 29,” and jungkook doesn’t know why he says it, but it’s telling. “it doesn’t matter.”
“still a bankrupt,” yoongi huffs, and he starts to stand, but jungkook reaches out, and he takes a hold of the sleeve of his shirt, and yoongi stumbles slightly, sitting back again. “— it’s going to be awkward if i stay.”
“it’s going to be awkward if you leave, too,” jungkook says, shrugging. yoongi sighs. “it’s late, stay.”
“right,” yoongi gives in, and he looks around, touching the tip of his nose. “i’ll take the mat.”
they adjust somewhat slowly, with jungkook taking some blankets off from his bed, and yoongi washes the dishes they left from before, saying something about being useful. then he’s standing near the couch, unbuttoning his shirt, and jungkook watches the movements for a lingering second. “won’t you be cold—?”
“ah, no, i’ll be fine, the kotatsu is warm enough” yoongi shakes his head, and the skin of his chest is fair and he has hair down his navel, thin and black. jungkook flushes, body reacting too fast, blood rushing. he forces himself to turn away. “can i use your bathroom?”
“yes.”
the thing is— it’s noisy, as yoongi said it would be. when the lights are shut and they’re left to their own devices, there’s breathing, soft, slow, and jungkook blinks, staring at the wall behind his bed, listening. sometimes yoongi moves, the fabric rustling like leaves, and sometimes he seems to lick his lips, the sound wet. jungkook swallows, unable to focus out of them, body stiff. it’s uncomfortable to sleep with the headphones on. he doesn’t have any ear plugs. he blinks, remembering the earphones yoongi purchased and the sound of rain on his phone. jungkook sits up, feet light against the cold boards, walking around the table. the earphones are still plugged into the phone clutched on yoongi’s fingers. he looks asleep, eyelashes against the soft skin under his eyes, slight gap between his lips, and jungkook follows the line of his shoulders, the skin slightly reddish from warmth. “you want the earphones?” yoongi asks, then, softly. jungkook startles, sitting back against his legs, nodding. “you’re blushing.”
“i didn’t mean to wake you.”
“i’m noisy,” yoongi offers, and he props him up slightly, and like that they’re leveled suddenly, they’re close. warmth pours out from under the blankets, yoongi sits, sheets falling about him, his stomach is nice, soft-looking, his sides are curved in, pretty. jungkook thinks of characters for him, but he can't come up with one. “here,” the earphones are offered again, and yoongi pushes jungkook’s hair behind his ear to plug them. “i don’t have enough battery for the whole night, but you—”
it’s not raining when jungkook kisses yoongi again, but it sounds like it is. the phone is warm to the touch when yoongi presses against him, trying to hold, and jungkook sighs into a kiss that sounds like nothing, and tastes like lingering mouthwash, and it’s warm like the skin of yoongi’s waist. he hears the thud of the phone falling because the earphones are pulled off with it, rain being replaced by breathing, and breathing by panting. yoongi kisses him back, and touches him back, and he smells of soap and of things too sweet and familiar. when jungkook draws scenes like that, they’re always colder— the touches are timid, the hands are still. there’s a lack of movement in his stories, he realises as he feels yoongi tug on his shirt, fingers curling on fabric. their knees press together, their noses, their mouths move. jungkook realises how lacking he is, how different reality is from fiction. in reality, it feels feverish and loud. on paper, it’s plain and simple. he makes a small sound when yoongi’s hand slide down his side, pressing over his thigh, nails scraping. yoongi pulls back, their noses bumping, and jungkook doesn’t open his eyes, scared it’ll all go away. “i like it,” he offers it, sensing the way yoongi breathes. “i really— i do.”
“jungkook,” yoongi’s breath is hot and close. “you’re my— we work together, i’m your intern,” he sounds embarrassed, and he sounds soft, and jungkook breathes out, inching in, eyes still closed, their lips brushing. “there’s a hierarchy we—”
“not here,” jungkook shakes his head. “yoongi-ssi,” he swallows. “hyung.”
“you’re attractive, and i’m confused,” at this, jungkook opens his eyes, blinking. yoongi looks at him. “we— i don’t know how working together will be like if we do this.”
“— and if we forget?” jungkook offers, words small. “like the kiss, we forgot about it.”
“i didn’t,” yoongi says, and jungkook feels his cheeks reddening fast. he’s being pushy. “did you?”
jungkook blinks, ashamed. then, after a moment: “no.”
“i— i don’t know if i can do this and forget,” there’s a pause. jungkook’s hands are still on yoongi’s waist, and he presses against the warm skin, thumb grazing over his hipbones. yoongi sighs, and jungkook startles when yoongi presses his forehead to jungkook’s shoulder. “i think you’re driving me crazy.”
“— do you like it, here?” jungkook asks, fingernails scratching slightly, and yoongi shivers, nodding, pressing his legs together. “can i touch you?”
“you’re already touching me,” yoongi mutters, clinging to his shirt. then, breathy: “yes.”
the skin under the hem of yoongi’s pants is hot to the touch, hotter than his torso, and jungkook hooks his fingers on it, pulling it down slightly, and yoongi groans against his neck when jungkook’s fingers touch him between his legs, stroking slowly. he hears the small fuck uttered, he can tell yoongi’s muscles are clenched, his stomach sucked in. yoongi wraps a hand over jungkook’s, then, fingers pressing, stopping his movements. “i fooled around before, i can,” jungkook feels all flushed. “i can do it— get you off.”
“it’s not that,” yoongi mumbles. “it feels good, and—” he lifts his head again, and jungkook likes the way he can see the way his pupils are blown in the purple-coloured night. “i won’t be able to forget.”
for a second, jungkook doesn’t know what to say. his fingers feel the skin burning, and his innards burn too, and between his legs and between his lungs. “how do we go from here, then?”
“we shouldn’t,” yoongi sighs, their fingers sliding together over skin, and he trembles all over. “it’s better if, ah, you ,” he jolts slightly, grabbing about jungkook. their slight unsureness seems to be forgotten in the way the kiss wasn’t, put aside completely, because yoongi moves against his hand, needy, and jungkook lets him, hearing his sounds getting loud, the sound of wet skin, the sound of breathing. he lets yoongi fuck into their hands, dizzy with it, and he lets yoongi grab about him as he does it, head buried in his neck. the sounds are loud. jungkook focus on the way yoongi breathes rapidly. he blinks, eyes widening, when yoongi moves, scrambling to get the earphones again, pushing them in jungkook’s ears. the rain sounds are soothing. “i want to blow you,” yoongi mutters, and jungkook hears it through the downpour. he nods, burning up.
it’s messy, what they’re doing. it’s messy and complicated and louder than it should. jungkook knows yoongi is right, that they shouldn’t, that they won’t forget, but his hips buckle, and yoongi’s mouth is hot, and the rights and the wrongs get splattered all over like the forever rain on loop. the battery dies, though, the phone pushed away by their hands, the cords tied around his neck, and jungkook pushes against yoongi’s tongue, and everything, everything gets muted, the ringing in his ear loud
— there’s a plot hole right there, a scene missing, he thinks, hours later, waking up under the kotatsu, lower body stiff. his back hurts from sleeping on the floor. his pants are on. yoongi isn’t there, nor his phone with the rain sounds, only the earphones. jungkook sits up too fast, looking around. “yoongi-ssi?” he calls, heart speeding up. there’s nothing. on the papers of his sketches though, the different min yoongi’s stare at him, and there’s a scribbled note next to them, like a speech bubble. i was too embarrassed to stay . maybe we should take some time apart . jungkook’s heart aches. under it, between brackets: (i won’t forget) .
he groans, pressing his face against his palms. the quietness of the apartment is almost too loud, too.