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Seokjin was only twenty years old when he met Lee Kiseok.
Six months later, there was a proposal; six months after that, a wedding.
Seokjin still has some of the pictures from the honeymoon on his Instagram, way down at the bottom of his page. On his thirty-first birthday last month, he scrolled through, as far back as he could endure, trying to delete every trace of his now-ex-husband from social media.
If only he could do the same in reality.
He had been drunk, then, and alone, curled up on his kitchen floor under the comforter from his bed. Though he’d stopped believing in a higher power when he was eighteen years old, he had prayed desperately to any god to take away even a fraction of the pain– and when there was no answer, when he was still so sad that it felt as though his chest might explode from it, he knew that a god might not take away his pain but that whiskey would numb it.
For such a whirlwind relationship that Seokjin and Kiseok had, it had seemed so sure and so strong in the beginning. How could two people fall in love so quickly, move so fast, and not last? After ten years together, they’d been through countless ups and downs. Ten years of building a life together, of new jobs and buying a house big enough for a family some day, of sticking together through everything. Seokjin knew he’d be loyal and faithful and he never expected anything different from Kiseok.
At least not until the very end.
Their marriage wasn’t perfect, but no marriage ever is. Seokjin knows now, though, that good marriages don’t have to be perfect, but they’re supposed to be enjoyable– not full of lies and secrets and daily arguments.
They don’t encounter hands around throats.
They don’t include hole-punched walls.
They don’t involve fucking other people when your spouse is out of town.
One week after their ninth wedding anniversary, Kiseok sat across from Seokjin and asked him for a divorce, a list in his hand of all the reasons why he’d grown resentful over the past few years; his therapist had encouraged him to finally come clean, he’d told Seokjin, who stared at the list and thought about what he would tell his parents.
For everyone else, it was another ordinary day. For Seokjin, it felt like the end of the world.
Maybe, the last thing Seokjin accused Kiseok of before he moved out of the house and into his new boyfriend’s apartment was true; he never loved Seokjin, not even in the beginning.
And maybe, though Seokjin won’t be able to admit it to himself for a long time, he never truly loved Kiseok back either.
But Kiseok had his new boyfriend now, and Seokjin had no one. No husband. No friends– they’d all taken Kiseok’s side, even Seokjin’s longtime friend from high school. No in-laws– the family he’d come to think of as his own, nieces and nephews and grandparents. His own parents shut him out, claiming they couldn’t support Seokjin if he wouldn't even fight to get Kiseok back.
Seokjin had hidden all of Kiseok’s lies and wrongdoings too well. He had protected what he thought should be protected, instead of protecting himself.
Now, he would live the rest of his life alone.
He would die alone.
He dreaded it, but he would make sure of it; he vowed to never let anyone else into his fragile, broken heart ever again.
“It’s just another day.” Jungkook opens the curtains, his hands clutching the fabric firmly to tug them apart until light spills into the room.
Seokjin cringes when he sees the resulting dust swirling in the air. He’s not really sure how long it’s been since he’s dusted– well, any room in his house.
Jungkook sees it too. He waves a hand in front of his face, ducking away and stifling a sneeze against his forearm. Blinking away tears from his eyes, he fumbles for the tissue box on the end table– Seokjin shudders thinking about how much dust must be covering that, too– and swipes at his nose.
“Holidays like Valentine’s Day are such bullshit, anyway,” Jungkook continues, crumpling up the tissue and tossing it into the garbage bag in the middle of the room. “It’s just another manufactured, commercialized, capitalism-bred holiday for suckers who don’t know the first thing about love or romance.”
“I didn’t know you were such an anti-romantic, Jungkookie,” Seokjin says, fighting back a yawn. “I don’t think you would be saying that if you had a boyfriend.”
Jungkook snorts– or maybe sneezes again. “No thanks.”
Sighing, Seokjin starts gathering up the trash littering his coffee table. He’s not happy that Jungkook has to see his place like this, despite that being the very reason Jungkook is over; Seokjin had only mentioned how much he needed to clean up his house in passing the week prior, and Jungkook had so sweetly offered to come over and help clean that he didn’t have it in him to refuse.
Now, though, Seokjin feels embarrassed about the mess. Embarrassed, and tired because he only slept three hours the night before, and sad because it’s his first Valentine’s Day post-divorce, and…well, there’s a whole slew of other emotions that he’d rather not name at the moment.
“It works, you know. People who don’t get flowers and cards and chocolates…” Seokjin trails off. He’s aware he sounds pathetic but he can’t stop himself from continuing anyway. “They feel like they’re missing out.”
Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He wisely moves over towards the couch where it’s less dusty.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it? That I probably would have been happy with a heart-shaped box of chocolates– that I would have felt like he cared–”
“You’re not stupid,” Jungkook interrupts, brows furrowing. “Don’t ever say that about yourself. Ever.”
Seokjin sinks down onto the couch. He’s almost shocked, by the anger he can hear in Jungkook’s voice. A lump forms in his throat and he stares down at his lap as Jungkook sits down next to him.
“Do you want, like, a hug or something?”
He looks over to see Jungkook grinning at him; he’s genuinely offering, but giving him room to refuse.
“No,” Seokjin pouts, crossing his arms.
Jungkook puts his arm around him anyway, tugs him a little closer.
“I would have gotten you a dozen red roses and a box of shitty chocolates the size of your big head every single year.”
“You’re really allergic to roses. And my head isn’t that big.” Seokjin fights back a yawn, fist pressed to his mouth. “Besides, what happened to ‘Valentine’s Day is a bullshit holiday’, hmm?”
Jungkook watches him yawn with a frown and changes the subject. “Have you been sleeping?”
“Um…”
Seokjin wiggles out of Jungkook’s hold and stands back up. “I’ll grab the vacuum cleaner. Will you turn on some music?”
The next hour passes by quickly. Seokjin vacuums the living room and Jungkook moves furniture around for him that Seokjin would have just vacuumed around had he been doing it on his own. They listen to one of Jungkook’s playlists and then to one of Seokjin’s. Jungkook watches Seokjin when he thinks he’s not looking and Seokjin tries to look like he’s not falling apart on the inside.
Once the kitchen, living room, and dining room are sparkling clean and dust-free, Jungkook claps his hands together.
“Okay. Should we do your bedroom next?”
Seokjin shakes his head quickly, panic rising up in his throat. “No! Not today– I’ll…I’ll clean up in there another day.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Seokjin thinks about how terribly messy his bedroom is. The bed, for one, is a complete disaster. He doesn’t need Jungkook to see that one half of the bed is completely covered in a pile of unfolded laundry, like some kind of placeholder for the person who once slept there. It’s been too many months for that laundry to still be sitting there.
I’m such a mess, Seokjin thinks, not for the first time today. A fucking worthless mess.
“Hey.” Jungkook’s hands are gentle, cupping Seokjin’s face like he’s a wounded animal. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not,” Seokjin whispers, even though he most definitely is.
Jungkook’s voice goes impossibly soft. “You weren’t ever missing out, you know. Valentine’s chocolates are cheap and gross. People who buy them for their partners and people who don’t buy them for their partners are both bad at love.”
“You’re just trying to cheer me up,” Seokjin whispers, his voice trembling.
“Is it working?”
Seokjin can feel his composure crumbling by the second. Exhaustion and too many emotions are a hell of a combination, it turns out. He blinks back tears and wishes Jungkook couldn’t read him so damn well all the time.
“I…”
He can tell that Jungkook is holding his breath.
“I wanna be drunk,” Seokjin finally mutters, face heating as soon as he gets the words out.
He’s recently sober. As in, one month sober. Jungkook had been there when he decided to dump all of his liquor down the sink drain.
Jungkook hears what he says. Seokjin knows he does. But he doesn’t reply– not directly.
“I don’t want to cook tonight,” he says, both of his hands sliding down to Seokjin’s chest, then to his waist. “Can we please order pizza?”
Jungkook’s palms are warm against his waist. Seokjin doesn’t dare look him in the eyes.
“Yeah. Let’s order pizza tonight.”
Bouncing twice in place, Jungkook grins. “Okay. Hey, can we also get coffee? I know it’s the afternoon but I could really go for an iced Americano right now.”
“I’ll be awake until 4 a.m. if I drink coffee this late,” Seokjin groans, but he’s nodding anyway. He’ll be awake until 4 a.m. regardless. “Let’s go. Hyung will pay.”
Jungkook moves in less than a month later.
It’s Seokjin’s idea, one that comes to him on the spot when Jungkook tells him his lease will be up soon.
“You should move in here,” he says, serving Jungkook a mediocre dinner of rice and baked chicken and store-bought kimchi.
“Imagine how much money I could save on rent!” Jungkook sighs dreamily. “You wouldn’t charge me a lot, Hyung, right?”
“I wouldn’t charge you anything.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’d have to charge me something. Wouldn’t you rather not have a roommate, though?”
“I have too much baggage, anyway,” Seokjin mutters, turning to get drinks from the fridge. “I don’t think anyone would want to put up with being my roommate.”
“I’ve already seen all your baggage,” Jungkook teases, still smiling when Seokjin turns back around.
It’s true. Jungkook knows everything. Well, almost everything. And yet, he’s still here, sitting in Seokjin’s kitchen willingly.
In the same place he’d sat when Seokjin broke the news to him, still numb with shock.
In the same place he hugged Seokjin tightly and told him everything was going to be okay.
In the same place he’d helped Seokjin fill out all of the divorce paperwork.
In the same place they went through Seokjin’s liquor cabinet together until there wasn’t any alcohol left in the house.
And even last month, after Jungkook witnessed how messy his house had gotten, he not only stayed to help with cleaning, but stayed afterward too, sitting in this very kitchen like he was happy to be there.
Seokjin barely remembers each of those events individually, the details lost to stress and insomnia, but he remembers that they happened and that Jungkook was there with him each time.
“This house is too big for just one person,” he eventually says, finally sitting in his chair.
Jungkook looks pleased at that. He digs into his food– he never once complains about Seokjin’s shitty cooking– and by the time he leaves later that night, the conversation around Jungkook moving in with him has developed into an actual plan, one that has Seokjin’s heart fluttering with excitement.
“We can play video games together every night instead of just once a week!” Jungkook gushes, his eyes so big with hope that Seokjin gets up from the table to give him a hug.
“Thank you,” he whispers into Jungkook’s hair, unsure why he’s suddenly so overcome with emotion.
“I can’t wait to move in, Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs softly, turning his head so he can rest his cheek against Seokjin’s. “It’s going to be really great.”
Seokjin cleans his room the day before Jungkook moves in. Deep cleans. The idea that Jungkook might get a glimpse of the mess is enough motivation to do what he hasn’t been able to do yet.
He’s already prepared the other bedroom that will be Jungkook’s room. It’s right across the hall. Same with the guest bathroom that will now become Jungkook’s, scrubbed clean though it’s almost never used.
With music blasting and sweat soaking through his shirt– and, grossly, his underwear– he attacks the terrifying laundry pile on his bed. He cries over his lack of hangers twice. He throws away a pile of shirts in the trash, and then cries as he fishes them back out and stuffs them into his laundry hamper to deal with later. Then, he cleans his desk, dusts the blinds, and vacuums the carpet. And washes his bedding. And wipes down every doorknob and handle he can find.
The ensuite bathroom is something he’ll save for another day.
When he finally flops down onto his now-empty bed, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and he’s wide awake. Only five more hours before Jungkook shows up in his friend's borrowed truck with his surprisingly few belongings.
Through the exhaustion, a sense of accomplishment washes over Seokjin. If he can finally clean his room, maybe he can do all of the other hard things he’s been putting off and pushing aside and ignoring. Like clean his bathroom. Or go get his car’s oil changed. Or contact Kiseok about closing their joint checking account that’s still open.
Maybe not that last one– not just yet– but Seokjin really feels like he could sometime soon, which is a big step up from where he was just six hours ago.
His room feels oddly empty as he climbs into bed, but it’s a good, hopeful kind of empty.
The next morning, when Jungkook knocks on the front door, Seokjin opens it wide with a smile on his face and holds out a key.
“No more knocking, roomie. Welcome home.”
Having Jungkook around gives Seokjin an unexpected sense of purpose throughout his days.
For one, he immediately becomes better at working more reasonable, consistent hours. He times his hours working from home with the hours Jungkook works at his job.
He also now has a reason to learn how to cook better and to eat healthier, and he’s rewarded instantly with Jungkook’s praise about how good the food is. It’s far different than the reactions he used to get for cooking meals, but he tries to shove that thought away as soon as it comes up.
He likes taking care of Jungkook, in the way he always imagined himself taking care of– well, taking care of a partner, but he can’t really think of Jungkook in that way, not when he’s still so deep in heartache and when Jungkook views him as a brother. Still, the idea pops into his mind more and more often than Seokjin would like to admit.
Since Jungkook has moved in, Seokjin’s favorite nights are the ones when he and Jungkook watch TV together. Jungkook always ends up so invested in the rom-coms, despite claiming he doesn’t like rom-coms, and Seokjin has never been so endeared by seeing a grown man cry before.
Seokjin takes his job as tissue-wielder seriously. There’s something satisfying about being the one that Jungkook turns to for comfort, snuggling under their shared blanket as Jungkook sniffles back tears. He dutifully rubs Jungkook’s back, and when Jungkook asks him why he never cries, Seokjin bites his tongue, because there isn’t really a good way to explain that he cries daily but is too empty inside to cry at a dramatic love story on screen.
Jungkook takes care of Seokjin, too.
It’s just not in the way Seokjin is proud of.
“I thought you weren’t going to drink anymore, Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, easing the bottle out of Seokjin’s grip.
Seokjin can’t bear to look at his face and see the disappointment, so he doesn’t.
“Thought you were working late,” he rasps, on the verge of tears. “I don’t…can you pour it out?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and listens to the sound of Jungkook walking over to the sink, to the sound of whiskey going down the drain.
He’s pretty sure he’s too drunk to stand up. Even with his eyes closed, his head is spinning. His tummy is warm and full and his eyes hurt.
“I’ll never fall in love again.” Seokjin hiccups, opens his eyes when Jungkook crouches back down in front of him. “Love is a fuckin’ scam.”
“Okay. That’s okay, Hyung.”
Jungkook’s hands are carding through his hair. Too soft, too gentle, too caring.
Seokjin presses his palms to his eyes, his face crumpling. “Why do I have to start my life all over, Jungkookie?” he sobs into his hands.
“You’re not starting over,” Jungkook replies. “You’re just starting a new chapter.”
“Can it be a better chapter this time?”
“It’s going to be the best chapter yet,” Jungkook promises, but Seokjin can’t hear him through the ringing in his ears.
Seokjin cries himself to sleep every single night.
He’s still doing it, even though it’s been nearly a year since he first found out about Kiseok’s boyfriend.
He hadn’t cried that night at all. Tonight, though, he feels extra pitiful as he sniffles into his pillow, trying to be as quiet as possible.
He almost doesn’t hear the faint footsteps right outside his door.
“Hyung?”
There’s a soft knock. Seokjin gasps, startled, and sits up in bed. “Kookie? Come in. What’s wrong?”
“Can’t sleep,” Jungkook whines, voice low and raspy as he steps inside. He has a pillow tucked under his arm.
Seokjin is grateful the darkness hides his red eyes as he lifts the covers and pats the bed. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to shuffle over, crawling in next to him and arranging his pillow next to Seokjin’s before lying down.
“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asks, tugging the comforter over Jungkook’s shoulders.
“Had a weird dream,” Jungkook replies sleepily.
“Stay as long as you want,” Seokjin whispers, listening as Jungkook’s breathing slows already.
Jungkook doesn’t respond. He’s pressed up against Seokjin’s arm, his warmth triggering something unexpectedly sad in Seokjin’s chest.
“I’m so lonely, Jungkook-ah,” he whispers, after he knows for sure Jungkook is asleep. “I feel so fucking alone.”
The tears can’t be stopped but he does his best to keep quiet, swallowing back each wrenching sob until it’s a painfully silent lump in his throat.
With snot and tears streaming down his face, he watches Jungkook sleep, and wishes he could fall asleep too.
On Christmas Eve, they go out with Jungkook’s friends.
“Your friends too, Hyung,” Jungkook reminds him.
Seokjin is half-convinced Jungkook’s friends only put up with him because of Jungkook, for no other reason than he wouldn’t put up with himself.
If he’s being honest, he actually really likes Jungkook’s friends. They’re all kind and they make him feel included whenever they hang out.
“Shit,” Jungkook mutters as they climb out of their taxi and step onto the sidewalk. “They changed their minds, they want to go to a bar a few blocks up.”
He looks at Seokjin with wide, panicked eyes, but Seokjin puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes reassuringly.
“Hey, that’s totally fine. I’ll be okay, Jungkookie. They have other stuff, yeah? As long as I can get a coffee and something to eat, I’m peachy.”
Jungkook wrinkles his nose. “Did you just say peachy?”
“Yeah? What, did I use it wrong?”
“I’ve never heard you say that before.”
“I’m a man of many words,” Seokjin laughs. “Now, which way do we walk?”
All five of Jungkook’s friends are waiting outside by the time they arrive. Seokjin quickly goes through their names in his head– Jimin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung. He knows them well enough by now not to forget, but these days his memory isn’t working at full capacity so he wants to be sure.
They hug Jungkook one by one, and greet Seokjin politely.
“Good to see you, Seokjin-ssi,” says Namjoon as he bows. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Merry Christmas Eve to you, too. And you can all call me Hyung,” he says, his heart pounding as soon as the words are out.
“Alright, Hyung,” Namjoon smiles.
They file inside the small, brightly decorated bar and find a table in the corner. There’s Christmas music playing softly over the speakers and a waiter brings them paper menus with more seasonal specials listed than Seokjin has time to read through before it’s his turn to order.
Seokjin keeps mostly quiet. He listens to everyone’s conversations, nodding and smiling, struck by how grateful he is to have someone to spend tonight with.
“Want to try some, Hyung?” Jimin offers, pushing his cocktail across the table after offering a sip to Taehyung.
Seokjin cups his hands around his hot peppermint mocha with whipped cream. He hasn’t told them all he’s sober yet. It feels harder to say it to someone who isn’t Jungkook.
Under the table, there’s a nudge against his foot. He looks over to see Jungkook looking at him, an encouraging smile on his face.
“No thanks, Jimin,” Seokjin replies, looking back to Jimin. “I’m not a big fan of those fruity drinks.”
“Same,” Yoongi says, giving Seokjin what feels like an approving grin that makes him feel oddly proud.
“Soft pretzel, Hyung?” Hoseok asks from his left.
“Only if there’s mustard,” he answers, to which he receives another smile of approval from Yoongi and a silly grimace from Hoseok.
“Whatever floats your boat,” Hoseok laughs.
“I’m gonna come sit by you,” Taehyung announces abruptly, standing up and dragging his chair around the table to squeeze in next to Seokjin. “Since we’re the only ones that appreciate a good condiment.”
“Hyung likes horseradish, too,” Jungkook fake-gags.
There’s a mix of laughter and groans around the table, but Seokjin doesn’t pay attention– he’s too busy basking in the glow that comes along with a third impressed nod from Yoongi and Jungkook’s foot nudging his under the table again.
“I want to get a tattoo.”
Jungkook snorts. He doesn’t look up from his phone. “You don’t have the pain tolerance for that, Hyung.”
“Rude!”
Jungkook giggles. “It’s true.”
Seokjin sighs. “Okay, maybe you’re right. I just thought it might be kind of meaningful.”
Looking up, Jungkook puts his phone down. “Tattoos don’t have to mean something. They can just be pretty. What do you want to get?”
“Never mind. Maybe it’s a dumb idea–”
“None of your ideas could ever be dumb, Hyung. Tell me?”
“I was thinking…a little book, maybe?” Seokjin swallows nervously under Jungkook’s expectant gaze. “A book that’s opened to the middle. Um, it’s kind of something you’ve said to me a few times now. About how I’m starting a new chapter in my life?”
“That’s a great idea, Hyung! Oh, that will be so cool.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Seokjin swallows and touches the soft skin of his forearm where he pictures the tattoo going. “Will you design it for me?”
Jungkook grins wide. “Of course I will, Hyung.”
On the second day of the new year, it snows.
Seokjin doesn’t even know until later on, because he wakes up early in the morning feeling like complete shit.
He’s pretty sure he’s never been so miserably sick before. Though he can barely move, he does drag himself to the bathroom to swallow down some painkillers before burrowing back under his covers, aching all over his body and shivering nonstop.
He hides away for most of the day, flitting in and out of sleep without much concept of what time it is. He doesn’t even know if it’s day or night when he’s woken by a knock on his door.
“Hyung?”
Seokjin isn’t sure if he replies or not. His throat hurts too much, but he thinks he gets a congested groan out, because Jungkook comes in a moment later.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, mouth dropping open when he catches sight of Seokjin.
“Don’t look at me,” Seokjin rasps, pulling the blanket over his head with the little energy he has left.
It’s tugged back down a moment later. Jungkook’s palm finds his forehead. Seokjin shivers, too hot and too cold at the same time.
“You’re burning up,” Jungkook murmurs. “Oh, Hyung. Why didn’t you say something?”
Unbidden, thoughts of Kiseok pop into his mind. Of his explosive anger, one time when Seokjin mentioned he wasn’t feeling well. Seokjin remembers with alarming clarity how confused he’d been by the reaction, and how Kiseok had locked the bedroom door and forced Seokjin to sleep on the couch.
“I’m sorry,” Seokjin whimpers, curling up small. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Here, let me get you some medicine.”
Time passes in a foggy haze. Jungkook brings him medicine, and Seokjin’s throat hurts so badly when he swallows it that he cries.
There are other things, too. Tissues, placed on his nightstand. A glass of water with a straw. A sleeve of crackers and a bottle of Gatorade. Seokjin is certain he’s too weak to even look at all of it, but he’s grateful that Jungkook is here to bring it to him.
“Do you need anything else, Hyung?”
Seokjin grinds his teeth together. He can’t relax any of his muscles when he’s shivering. “Maybe I should have left when he…when he…”
Seokjin doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, and he’s barely able to get any words out past the thickness in his throat anyway, and Jungkook shushes him softly and rubs his back.
“Shh, Hyung. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
He doesn’t know what’s okay, or how Jungkook sounds so sure, but there’s something in his intonation that makes Seokjin melt just a little.
Or maybe it’s the medicine, finally working through his system, turning his insides warm and his brain to mush.
“Can I get in with you?” Jungkook asks, rubbing Seokjin’s arm up and down through the comforter.
“You’ll get sick,” Seokjin tries to protest, but Jungkook doesn’t care.
He falls asleep to the steady sound of Jungkook’s heart beating beneath his ear where it’s pressed against his chest.
The fever gives Seokjin dreams unlike any he’s ever had before.
They’re vivid and strange and nightmarish in an abstract way, leaving him with a terrible sense of dread and drenched completely in sweat.
“I have your pajamas,” Jungkook offers. “They’re warm from the dryer.”
Seokjin blinks blearily up at him, his mind still reeling with images of sentient trees and three-legged mountains and an immensely unsettling figure with unblinking eyes.
“If it’s okay, Joon dropped off a flu test. I think it would be good to check in case we need to take you to the doctor.”
Scrunching up his face in discomfort at the very thought of a swab test, Seokjin tries to remember who Joon is. One of Jungkook’s friends, he’s pretty sure.
“‘Kay,” he coughs out.
He shivers through Jungkook helping him change out of his sweat-soaked clothes and administering the test. As Jungkook replenishes his water glass and gives him more medicine, Seokjin is struck with an overwhelming sense of sadness.
“What’s wrong with me?” He wonders, maybe out loud. Heat prickles behind his eyelids.
“Hm?”
Jungkook has somehow changed Seokjin’s sheets while he’s still in bed. Or maybe he got up at some point without remembering. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, his arms full of bedding, head tilted to one side.
“So much time has passed,” Seokjin croaks, “but I’m still so sad. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so broken?”
Jungkook gasps, horrified. “No, Hyung. No. You’re not broken.” He drops the laundry and rushes back to the bed. “Don’t you dare say that.”
Seokjin snuffles into his pajama sleeve. “Can’t be fixed. So m’broken.”
“Oh, Hyung.”
Jungkook gathers Seokjin into his arms. At some point, whether due to the warmth of their shared body heat or the medicine, Seokjin stops shivering. He drifts in and out of consciousness, tired and achy. He wonders what the results of the flu test are, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like he wants to move anytime soon.
“I love you, Hyung.” He feels Jungkook’s lips against his temple, on his forehead.
And Seokjin isn’t one hundred percent sure that it’s real and not another fever dream.
Jungkook makes Seokjin wait for a full week after his bout with the flu– confirmed by the at-home test– before he shows him the tattoo design he’s been working on.
“Holy shit, Jungkookie, that’s amazing! When can I get it done? Fuck, what if I really can’t handle the pain?”
“Next week, if you want. And you can squeeze my hand as hard as you need to,” Jungkook smirks. He leans over, his arm looping around Seokjin’s waist. “You’ll do great, though.”
Seokjin automatically lets his head drop onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “Thanks. I really mean it– thank you for everything.” He yawns, and Jungkook frowns.
“You still haven’t been sleeping well?”
Jungkook frames it like a question, but they both know it isn’t, because they both know the answer.
“I’ve been sleeping a little more,” Seokjin murmurs.
“Wanna take a nap?”
The together part is unspoken, but implied.
Seokjin doesn’t know exactly when it started, or what it means, but more and more nights have ended up with Jungkook climbing wordlessly into his bed to sleep next to him. It might not be noticeable to Jungkook just yet, but for Seokjin it has resulted in a little more sleep and a little less crying at night.
“Yes, please.”
Jungkook squeezes his waist. “Your bed or mine?”
Seokjin snorts. “Is that even a question?”
“Hey! I’ll have you know that twin bed easily fits two people!”
“Oh, I bet.”
“Hyuuung. Not like that.”
“I’ve heard Jimin’s stories about your college days, Jungkookie.”
Hiding his face behind one hand, Jungkook drags Seokjin down the hall.
Once they’re curled up together under Seokjin’s comforter, Jungkook reaches up and gently cards his fingers through Seokjin’s hair until he grows sleepy.
“Feels nice,” Seokjin mumbles. “Don’t stop.”
Jungkook giggles and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t stop, at least not that Seokjin can tell as he slowly starts to drift off to sleep.
“I’m proud of you, Hyung.”
Out of the blue, whispered so lovingly against Seokjin’s throat, the words fill something inside Seokjin that feels more necessary than the oxygen in his lungs.
When Jungkook’s other hand slides across his chest, Seokjin lets himself grab it and hold on tight.
Seokjin squints at his phone. It’s Saturday. February 14th. Valentine’s Day, as his phone is so rudely reminding him.
At least he was able to sleep in a little.
Yawning, Seokjin gets out of bed and gets dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. When he shuffles out to the living room, Jungkook is on the couch watching some kind of sport on TV.
“What’re you watching?”
“Winter Olympics,” Jungkook replies without tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Women’s Skeleton.”
“Ah.” Seokjin doesn’t know the first thing about sports, and certainly not about Olympic sports, and he’s never heard about a sport called skeleton before.
Regardless, he joins Jungkook on the couch, and is quickly filled in by both the commentator and by Jungkook. Within no time, Seokjin is practically an expert at the Olympics.
“What?! She was ahead the whole time but she placed sixth?! This is an outrage!” Seokjin screeches, waving a hand at the TV. “It was green!”
Well, maybe not quite an expert.
“The green just means they’re ahead at that interval,” Jungkook explains, grinning over at him. “And it’s okay because she’s from Latvia and we’re rooting for Korea.”
“Oh. Right,” Seokjin mumbles. “I know that.”
The doorbell rings then, saving Seokjin from further embarrassing himself. Jungkook jumps up immediately to get it, exclaiming something about food; Seokjin’s stomach growls accordingly.
Jungkook clears his throat as he comes back into the living room a minute later. “Lunch is here. And I, uh, got you something else.”
Turning around, Seokjin expects to see Jungkook with a big bag full of snacks they definitely do not need. What he does not expect to see is Jungkook standing there holding out a bouquet of red roses and a bag of heart-shaped gummies.
Seokjin’s jaw drops. “What–?”
“For you. Happy Saturday.”
“Happy…Saturday?” Seokjin stammers, rising from the couch in slow motion. “You– that’s– what?”
Jungkook’s cheeks are pink. “You don’t have to look so surprised. I just wanted to get you something nice.”
“For…for Valentine’s Day?” Seokjin checks, because those are very distinctly Valentine-themed gifts in Jungkook’s hands.
“For Saturday,” Jungkook replies shyly. “A Saturday that also happens to be Valentine’s Day.”
Heart thumping in his chest, Seokjin moves forward. “You shouldn’t be near these,” he scolds, quickly taking the roses from Jungkook, but he’s smiling so hard it almost negates his worry for Jungkook’s allergies.
“Yep. Well, I’m gonna go plate lunch for us. I’ll be in the kitchen sneezing my brains out if you need me.”
“Is this why you were sneaking pills thirty minutes ago?” Seokjin guesses, but Jungkook is already skipping off to get the food. “Aish, this kid.”
He brings the roses up to his nose to smell, his smile growing impossibly bigger. There’s a giddy feeling in his chest that he’s both terrified of and grateful for. He puts the roses in a vase of water and sets it on the back patio where he can see them through the door, then settles back on the couch.
After they eat, Seokjin tears open the bag of gummies and pulls a blanket over his lap, tucking part of it over Jungkook’s legs, which are now stretched into his personal space.
“This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” he says around a mouthful of candy.
“Can’t believe I bought someone a gift on Valentine’s Day,” Jungkook murmurs, nudging Seokjin’s leg with his foot. “Ew.”
“I can’t believe I haven’t even cried once today,” Seokjin counters. “Is this…healing?” He grins, popping another gummy heart into his mouth.
Jungkook snorts, trying to maintain his composure, but a second later he’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re funny, Hyung.”
“I know I am. Thank you. You’re easy to make laugh. And very satisfying to make laugh.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, skeptical.
“Don’t try to deny it. Your laugh is the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re cute.”
“Not as cute as you.”
“True. You’re more handsome, though.”
Seokjin scrunches up his nose. “The fuck are we doing?”
“Not falling in love, that’s for sure,” is Jungkook’s immediate reply, laughter tumbling out around his words.
He pauses, and Seokjin sits up straight, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.
“No?”
“Actually.” Jungkook gulps. “I could easily fall in love with you, Hyung.” The confession is quiet, almost shy. Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact. “I know that you don’t want to–”
“You’re right,” Seokjin whispers back, reaching out to cup the side of Jungkook’s face. “But it’s too late.”
Jungkook leans into the touch, his face warm and his eyes wide. “Too late?”
“I don’t ever want to fall in love again, but it’s too late, because I’ve already fallen in love with you.”
For a heartbeat, they’re silent.
Then, Jungkook surges forward, until he’s in Seokjin’s lap, until his lips are just centimeters from Seokjin’s.
“Can I kiss you, Hyung?”
Seokjin leans forward just a fraction. Jungkook’s chest is pressed against him. He watches Jungkook’s pupils dilate.
Then, he grins.
“Yes. But we’re missing the skeleton finals,” he whispers against Jungkook’s lips. “In case you wanted to know.”
Jungkook’s startled laughter spills out of him, head tipped back and nose scrunched cutely.
“Hell, you’re right,” Seokjin laughs, even though Jungkook hasn’t said anything. “We can watch it in four years.”
“It’s a date,” Jungkook giggles. “How romantic.”
Seokjin reaches out and cups a hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck, tugging him back until their lips meet.
With the taste of Jungkook and heart-shaped gummies on his tongue, a happiness that Seokjin hasn’t felt in a long time blooms in his chest; he knows for certain that he’ll be able to walk into the next chapter of his life with his head held high, and that this moment is only the beginning of his and Jungkook’s story.