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beautiful, dangerous youth

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He doesn't know where Taehyung's wandered off to.

It's almost impossible to know of his whereabouts when he gets sweeped up and swallowed into the eight-bedroom house. He doesn't bother to go searching, instead, Jungkook lies in wait for his inevitable return.

Taehee's sitting at the marble island in the kitchen, book open in front of her, mug of lukewarm coffee clutched tightly to her chest as the autumnal winds pound against the windowpanes. The winds make their way inside when the door swings open, bringing with it an almighty gust that is pushed back outside by Hoseok who leans back against the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

With his hair wild and unkempt, a lone, orange-coloured leaf clings to his strands and his fingertips fail to tame said strands and grab said leaf. Jungkook smiles over at him. He wants to pluck the leaf off, to crush it in his palm, to feel it crunch and crinkle as it breaks into tiny, dead pieces.

“So much for tonight’s barbecue," Hoseok grumbles, toeing out of his shoes before joining Jungkook on the roomy sofa, pulling at the blanket that's placed over Jungkook's lap, holding in a smirk when Jungkook makes a noise of complaint. He tugs and tugs, eager for something to cover his shivering limbs. Jungkook’s strength fails him and he sullenly lets Hoseok yank it from his grip.

“Who's the parent here and who's the kid?" comes Taehyung's uninterested drawl, towards which Jungkook turns to. He wordlessly shrinks away from Hoseok.

Coughing weakly to try and fill the strangely weighted silence, Jungkook watches Taehyung as he walks over to the opposite end of the room, dragging a large, brown fuzzy blanket off of the back of an armchair before he wraps it around his shoulders, plonking himself down in the chair.

“You can still light it up," Jungkook insists, addressing Hoseok's earlier musing, "The winds are supposed to die down.”

Nodding like he's considering firing it up in the eye of gale-force winds, Hoseok pauses, and a furrow settles between his brow when he fixes his gaze over at Taehyung, "You two are going out tonight, right?"

Something within Jungkook sinks, and he himself sinks further down into the sofas when he catches Taehyung’s nod out of the corner of his eye. When Hoseok turns to Jungkook, he could swear that the smile on Hoseok's lips is one of disappointment, "I'll save it for another day, for when the wind has calmed down.”

"Speaking of tonight," Taehyung bellows, deep voice cutting through the air sharply, and Taehee clicks her tongue at him. Taehyung pokes his tongue out at his sister, "We should start getting ready."

“Don't you think it's a little early?" Jungkook frowns after he unlocks his phone to see that there's two hours left until their departure time.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Kook,” Taehyung says with his hand on his hip, his palm upturned as he adds, “This face requires the utmost love and care before heading out on the prowl.”

“The sooner he gets in, the quicker he can get out with whoever he's managed to hook," Hoseok grins, and a pillow shoots across Jungkook's vision, striking Hoseok, hitting its target, courtesy of Taehyung and his puffed out cheeks. When another flying cushion misses and strikes a glass vase on the coffee table, almost sending the flowers flying, Taehyung's demeanour instantly shifts into that of an innocent, good-natured child. "You'll fucking break something," Hoseok hisses at his son, picking up the cushion, ignoring his own rules as he returns it back to Taehyung with a hard throw.

Feeling awkward, with his cheeks burning and the tips of his ears hot and red, Jungkook watches as the two go back and forth, not necessarily arguing, more, winding each other up, as Taehyung does best with Hoseok.

It's admittedly strange for Jungkook to sometimes take a step back and ponder their relationship. He can't remember what his and his own father's banter was like, or if it had even existed. He doubts it did, because what kind of banter can a five-year-old even participate in? Taehyung and Hoseok are unique in the sense that they don't come across as your typical father/son relationship; Hoseok doesn't even seem like he's a parent most of the time, more like a good friend to Taehyung. A good friend that has to sometimes right him, a good friend that, a lot of the time has to gently scold him.

Taehyung shares anything and everything with him, and maybe some things are best kept secret, but Taehyung’s an open book. He’s almost always driving Hoseok up the wall, and Hoseok can give just as good as he gets.

Taehyung's sidled up next to Hoseok, chin hooked over his shoulder as he requests some booze; whiskey, not cheap store-bought cocktails like he usually buys.

"The stores are closed," Hoseok says, elbowing himself out of Taehyung's clingy grasp before heading into the kitchen to deposit some empty mugs into the sink.

Rocking on his heels, Taehyung finds Jungkook's gaze from across the room, and gives him a reassuring wink. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“You've got whiskey in the cabinet in your bedroom," Taehyung points out, and a spoon clatters against the sink as it falls in.

Remaining still, like he's contemplating whether or not he truly, really, honestly loves Taehyung in spite of how regularly he badgers him, Hoseok turns to face him slowly. "How do you know that? Or more importantly, when were you snooping around in my bedroom?"

"I wasn't snooping," Taehyung defends, palms facing Hoseok as he raises them to display his apparent innocence. Jungkook's smiling at the two, at their bickering, shaking his head fondly at Taehee who throws him a look that he presumes is exacerbation before making her exit. With his chin propped on his hand, Jungkook bursts into embarrassed laughter when Taehyung mumbles, "I was looking for your condoms when Jimin was over last week, then I saw the Jack Daniels. Sidenote, what's with the butt plug that you've got not-so-strategically hidden in your bedside drawer?"

Taehyung deserves the slap that gets landed onto his bicep.

“Do you want me to kill you?" Hoseok hisses, and Jungkook's cheeks turn scarlet. He diffidently meets Hoseok's eyes when he can't bring himself to look at his insufferably invasive son. Hoseok's cheeks are the reddest Jungkook's ever seen (but, they're probably not redder than his), and he can't hear what Hoseok says next to Taehyung, as it's whispered angrily, but whatever it is, Taehyung seems to reign it in after it's said.

Taehyung gets what he wants, like he always seems to after little argument, and as Jungkook's sprawled across Taehyung's bed watching him admire himself in his mirror whilst he tries on a variety of outfits, his face scrunches up as he brings his glass to his lips, the pungent smell making his stomach twist, the taste making his taste buds want to shriek.

On his third outfit change, Taehyung sashays around the room, glass of whiskey in one hand, unlit cigarette in the other as he makes a show of himself, tripping over some discarded loafers, sending droplets of his whiskey flying out of his glass.

“Opinion?" Taehyung requests when Jungkook holds out a lighter, watching the flame flicker and dance as it ignites Taehyung's cigarette. He pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can properly critique Taehyung's outfit.

He's wearing the Burberry shirt that Jungkook had bought for him for a drastically reduced price in a thrift shop for his birthday that year, paired with some simple black slacks and knock-off loafers. Jungkook exaggerates his analysis of the outfit, holds his chin in thought, drags his eyes from the bottom of Taehyung to the top before drawling boringly, "I mean, it's okay."

"Don't say this is 'okay,' when you're sitting there in jeans that've seen better days, a black t-shirt that you've probably washed once since your balls dropped, and those hideous, scuffed doc martens," Taehyung bites back coolly, too coolly and nonchalantly, like he didn't just come for Jungkook's neck and succeed in beheading his confidence in one fell swoop.

Mouth gaping in offence, Jungkook knocks back the remainder of his whiskey, grimacing before he barks, "I was joking you asshole."

Taehyung halts mid-twirl, takes a drag of his cigarette, then smiles like butter wouldn't melt, "Honey, so was I."

"You're demonic," Jungkook grumbles petulantly, brows furrowed as he peers at Taehyung over his glass.

“And you, my dear, sweet Jungkook, are a pain in my ass," Taehyung twirls around dramatically, the whiskey already evidently taking its desired effect.

He'd been there a week now. A week of peace, a week of laughter, a week of comfort.

It's only natural that they both get on each other's nerves, and though there are petty little arguments here and there, most are resolved swiftly and maturely, whilst others are forgotten and cold shoulders are quickly replaced with apologetic hugs (and sometimes some tears, on Taehyung’s part). They can never really stay mad at one another for long.

One week down, three to go, and in that one week, Jungkook's experienced more excitement in Taehyung's house than he has in his whole Summer back home with his mother.

Hoseok's not there to drive them to the bar like he usually is, and Jungkook's relieved, because when their taxi's waiting for them outside like they’re two princes ready to prance down the pathway to their carriage, Taehyung shouts down the hallway to Taehee before he loses his footing at the very top of the stairs. Jungkook watches in slow motion as Taehyung ungracefully falls flat on his ass, sliding down the last three steps before landing in a giggly, drunken heap.

It's Jungkook's mission to escort him to their metal, slightly dirty carriage, to reach into Taehyung's pocket and pull out his wallet for safe-keeping (Taehyung always manages to lose it when he's in such a state).

As the streetlights pass them by in a yellow blur, Jungkook has to concentrate hard, to try and pretend that the winding roads aren't twisting and turning, to focus his vision and un-blur his surroundings. Not only does he have to manage himself, but Taehyung, who's slouched in his seat and snoring softly, already a candidate for the world's worst drunk.

He livens up when they hit the bars, like he’s been given a new lease of life, and Jungkook lets Taehyung take the lead; wraps his hand around Taehyung's, gets dragged deep into the crowd, nods apologetically to those around them who aren't drunk enough to happily allow Taehyung to barrel into them. Much like when he's sober, Taehyung's loud when he's inebriated, and not only is he loud, but he's predator-like, whiskey doing wonders for his prowess, though, Taehyung's lucky in the sense that he doesn't depend on liquid courage for seeking out a good fuck.

Jungkook, on the other hand...

“Hey," Taehyung shouts over the music, over a female voice bleating lyrics about love, hot breath fanning across Jungkook's neck when he leans in close, "What about that guy?"

He points to a tall guy standing in the back of the smoking room, black hair coiffed messily, leather jacket-clad shoulders broad, and Jungkook purses his lips. "What're you doin'?" Jungkook's voice is already hoarse, he sways on his feet as Taehyung wraps an arm around his shoulders, "He's okay, but I'm not interested."

With an over-exaggerated eye-roll, Taehyung wags his finger in Jungkook's face, "I'm your wingman tonight, sweetie."

Jungkook pulls a face, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, and he watches the guy in question from across the room, considering him for a mere second before he vehemently shakes his head, trying to drown out the bleating female (no, he doesn’t believe in life after love). "You know I don't like when you do this," Jungkook says loudly into Taehyung's ear, "I didn't come out tonight to find someone.”

Squeezing Jungkook's pec, teasing him, Taehyung's bottom lip protrudes outwards, "I thought it'd be nice for you, y'know. Maybe get your brains fucked out and spread around, get your pretty dick sucked nice and good."

Ever the sweetheart. He can appreciate the weird sentiment, but what he can't appreciate is others feeling the need to do his soul-searching for him. Taehyung's intentions are good, Jungkook knows that, but to dedicate their whole night, what Jungkook thought would be just for the two of them, to finding some guy willing to dole out some quick pleasure makes something weird and uncomfortable sit heavy on Jungkook's chest.

Taehyung's always more intimate, more lovey dovey when plastered, so the kiss that is pressed onto Jungkook's cheek isn't jarring. Jungkook's eyes fall closed, then Taehyung's speaking into his ear, and he's a little less slurred and a little sincerer, "I'm sorry, Kook. Tonight can just be about us two, yeah?"

They manage to locate a table down the far-end of the smoking room, and Taehyung throws himself at it, claiming it as his. They huddle together, laughing loudly at anything and everything.

"You've been here a week now, what d'you think of Taehee?" Taehyung asks, curiosity evident on his face, smoke billowing out in front of him, spilling from his mouth and nose like he imagines the breath of a dragon would.

"She's sweet. Quiet. She seems intelligent, no wonder she's landed that law school scholarship."

Taehyung nods, tapping the ash off of his cigarette, "She's Daddy's little girl, the apple of his eye," Taehyung drawls, and then, the corners of his mouth twitch, and he leans forward, elbows on the table as his eyes bore into Jungkook. "Speaking of Daddy," he leans back for a second, just for some theatrics, just so he can mimic the motion of vomiting, though Jungkook's not sure why. He didn't have to refer to Hoseok like that.

Remaining pensively silent for a moment, turning something over in his mind, Jungkook rolls his tongue over his teeth, "He's nice, not like you at all... He's handsome... So, y'know, he's really not like you at all. Too bad you and Taehee didn't get yourselves some of his stellar genes." Taehyung's scandalised expression is priceless, like he’d just been slapped, and Jungkook can admit that he deserves the weak slap across the back of his hand.

Dissolving into laughter, Jungkook blinks away tears from his vision when Taehyung's stoic expression eventually crumbles.

"Enough jokes. C'mon, you can't deny that these genes are solid," Taehyung gestures to his face, framing it with his hands, grinning through the square hole that his hands form and Jungkook can't lie. He is, in fact, beautiful. Whoever Taehyung sets his sights on finds themselves writhing on silken sheets with the embodiment of unmatched beauty, "Whoever that biological mother of mine fucked sure had some killer genes. Godspeed to the sperm that helped create the only person who's worthy of being equated to the the most beautiful artworks in the world.

Watching him drain his bottle with mild disgust etched across his brow, Jungkook opines, "Sounds like you jack off to the thought of yourself."

"Nah," Taehyung shakes his head, looking deep into his beer bottle, like he’s trying to see his future in its last dregs. He reaches across the table to place a hand on Jungkook's forearm, "Hey, have you ever watched yourself jack off in a mirror? That's fucking hot. I blew my load all over my fucking reflection one time, I swear I almost blacked out afterwards."

With his jaw close to hitting the floor and his jealousy weirdly grumbling, Jungkook lightly pulls his arm away from Taehyung's touch, "That's exactly what jacking off to the thought of yourself is."

Dumbfounded and, by the looks of it, enlightened, Taehyung shrugs his shoulders, "Then, yeah, yes, I have."

"My God," Jungkook mutters beneath his breath before he drains the remainder of his beer in one, fast swallow.

“Hey, you’ve probably stroked one out to the thought of me, too,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, and Jungkook almost sputters his beer all over Taehyung’s pristine, god-like face. All he can muster is a flush.

They meet Jimin towards the end of the night, and Jungkook's used to it. He's used to stepping off, to slinking away from Taehyung when hoards of beauties approach him, so used to it, in fact, that he's got it down to a science.

He can tell from a simple yawn-inducing conversation whether or not it'll go anywhere, whether Taehyung will invite them in, whether they’ll kiss, whether Taehyung’s name will be on the other’s lips that night.

He knows Taehyung and Jimin's history, knows how complicated it is, has been there when Taehyung's cheeks were lined with tears, head rested in Jungkook's lap as he'd stroked his hair and whispered soothing words down at him, some that bore some truth, others that didn’t. Their demeanours don't seem tense tonight, and Jungkook chooses to give them some space. He picks himself up and heads down towards the opened exit, unlit cigarette between his lips as he heads out into the bitingly cold night.

Once his cigarette's finished, his eyes find Taehyung and Jimin, and he pauses on his return, because they're wrapped up in one another, Taehyung's hand is tangled in the hair on Jimin’s nape, Jimin's hands are clasped tightly around Taehyung's waist. Jungkook doesn't even blink when he bypasses them, is too busy counting out his coins. It's near closing but he still orders a shot of tequila, and he tries to tell himself that the bartender isn't giving him a sorry look.

When he gets handed a packet of salt, another hand takes the lemon.

Jungkook bristles. He directs his gaze upwards when the guy with the messy coif shows him a small, inviting smile.

He gestures for Jungkook to continue on as normal, only, the lemon is still in his possession, and Jungkook really needs that lemon to help curb the kick of the tequila. He licks the salt off of the back of his hand, throws back the shot, wincing and sort of gagging when it hits the back of his throat, and then, the guy brings the lemon to Jungkook's mouth, gently pressing it between his lips, and that's when their eyes meet; when Jungkook's sucking the life out of the lemon, and this guy is staring at his hollowed cheeks with what can only be described as admiration, maybe even anticipation.

He's really not interested, or at least, he tells himself that he's not. There's a sort of bubbling energy that's brewing within him when the guy bends to whisper into his ear, "You're not from around here. I know everyone around here, and I'd recognise that pretty face of yours from anywhere."

His hand is on the small of Jungkook's back, his breath reeks of Marlboro red and cider, and a shiver skirts down Jungkook's spine when the dreaded question comes.

"What's say you and I get out of here, pretty thing?"

Fire. Burning, consuming fire engulfs him, twisting, uncomfortable lust takes him, and just as Jungkook's about to be led away in a daze, Taehyung pops up over the guy's shoulder.

"Kook! It's time to go."

Jungkook can't really tell if he's thankful or angry at Taehyung for interfering.

That last shot of tequila wasn't a good idea.

His stomach keeps lurching, he can taste bile, the streetlights are no longer a blur but a weird, gloopy amalgamation of light that passes them by . Taehyung's incessant nattering isn't helping the ringing in his ears.

They stumble up the path, Taehyung giggling loudly, filling Jungkook in on what transpired between him and Jimin. There's no lights on in the house save for the one in the hallway that Hoseok always leaves on for his drunken son's return (he knows how clumsy Taehyung can be).

They think that they're safe until Taehyung's hanging off of Jungkook's arm, and then Jungkook's falling, and then, they're both in a heap on the ground, Taehyung's limbs tangled unendingly in Jungkook's, Jungkook's cheek pressed hard into the gravel.

"Can you be quiet?" Jungkook hisses, trying to push Taehyung off of him, "Hoseok's going to hear."

Like he'd been summoned, Jungkook feels a grip on his back, hears Taehyung yelp an apology, and before they know it, they're standing, or more, swaying in front of a rather perturbed, disheveled-looking Hoseok in his pyjamas.

"You two are worse than a hoard of elephants," Hoseok whisper-hisses before turning on his heels, expecting the two ne'er-do-wells to follow him into the house.

"Daaaad, I'm sorry," Taehyung pouts between hiccups, getting ushered to bed by a very impatient-looking Hoseok. Understandably, he seemed uninterested in the whole exchange.

With Taehyung gone, Jungkook's left standing in front of Hoseok, awkwardly rubbing at his upper arm, not daring to meet Hoseok's eye.

He doesn't go for Jungkook's throat like he'd expected him to, and Jungkook's glad, because that last tequila really pushed him over the edge, and he can feel it coming back up. "You should go and sleep it off, Kook," Hoseok advises, possibly because he can see just how startlingly green he looks. When they both head for the stairs, it hits him.

His hand clamps over his mouth, his eyes bulge and Hoseok turns with wild eyes, wondering why Jungkook's suddenly so animated.

In the blink of an eye Jungkook takes off down the hallway, fingers running along the wall as he feels his way through the dark, the heel of his palm jamming the light switch before he hurls himself into the bathroom. The impact of his knees hitting the floor is excruciating, and Jungkook cries out before it all leaves him.

He tries to keep it contained, he really does, but there's only so much control you can have over projectile vomit. In the midst of it all, Jungkook becomes aware of a touch stroking his back, of reassuring sounds, shushing, cooing, quiet words of encouragement, "Just get it all up. Don't worry about the mess, I can clean it up. Don't worry, Kook."

His whole body’s shaking, and he can't tell if it's because of the mixture of alcohols exiting his system or not. He wants for Hoseok to just scoop him up off of the floor, to bring him a blanket and wrap him up in it tightly, shielding him from any further bad life choices. When he feels like he's finished, Jungkook sits back on his ass, legs spread around the toilet, head bowed as he dabs vomit away from his mouth's corners.

Hoseok stays with him, rubbing circles into Jungkook's back, pushing his sweaty bangs up off of his forehead, and the shame and embarrassment hits Jungkook all at once.

"I'm so sorry," Jungkook whispers, throat feeling raw, tongue feeling like cotton, horrific taste in his mouth, "You shouldn't have to clean this up. I'll do it, go back to bed."

"Nonsense," Hoseok replies, squeezing Jungkook's shoulders reassuringly, offering him a bright smile like he always does, no matter the situation. "You're young, you've got the influence of a young rebel in the form of my Goddamn son. It happens to the best of us."

He can feel tears prickling his eyes. He feels sorry for himself and he feels stupid, more stupid than he's ever felt in his whole entire life.

Hoseok's so nice, so so nice. He doesn't deserve to have some young, puking kid sitting on his bathroom floor in the early hours of Monday morning. He wanders off to get some cleaning supplies, or so Jungkook thinks until he arrives back with one of the blankets from the sofa, a glass of water and some ibuprofen. After wrapping the blanket around Jungkook's shoulders, Hoseok crouches down, hands him the glass and then the tablet before he gets down on his hunkers and watches intently as Jungkook washes down the medicine.

"Thank you," Jungkook says quietly when he hands Hoseok back the glass, and Hoseok nods dismissively.

He gets escorted to his bedroom by Hoseok, who doesn't let go of Jungkook for one second during their slow journey up the stairs.

It's only when Jungkook's cozied up in bed when they're separated. Jungkook's practically already asleep, his eyelids too heavy to remain open. He hears Hoseok pottering around the room, flicking off light switches, rearranging Jungkook's blankets, and right when Jungkook's about to drift off into the deepest sleep he's ever had, he hears Hoseok's soft, barely-audible whisper before the door clicks shut, "Goodnight, Jungkook."

The morning brings with it pain. Sheer and utter pain.

The birds’ joyful chirping are too much for Jungkook's head, the sun's rays shining through the sheer curtains are too much for Jungkook's head, and Taehyung's loud singing drifting up from downstairs is too fucking much for Jungkook's head. He covers his head with his pillow, groaning miserably as his temples throb, hoping and praying that whoever just opened his door isn't Taehyung.

"Rise and shine Mr. Sunshine," Taehyung bellows, and Jungkook curses his luck, "How're you feeling this morning? Dead? Alive? Somewhere in-between?"

He mumbles into his pillow, "Dead. Stone-cold dead."

Taehyung plonks himself down at the bottom of the bed, and Jungkook can feel him squeezing his ankles through the duvet, but he just doesn't have the care or the energy to kick him away. "I heard you painted the bathroom walls last night," Taehyung shares, and Jungkook can hear that tell-tale highness in his voice that indicates tickled amusement.

All Jungkook can do is groan in misery as last night's events are put on replay in his mind.

"You gotta get up," Taehyung tugs at his duvet, but Jungkook's got a tight hold on it, "Hoseok summoned me with pancakes earlier. He's making you some, now." Somehow, that's what rouses Jungkook, what brings him back to the land of the living, and Taehyung gapes at him when he sits up, "Fuck, man, you look like shit."

Squinting as the sunlight beams into his bedroom, Jungkook weakly croaks, "Thanks, Tae. Thank you so much."

The smell of pancakes hits him like a slap in the face, almost sending him back up into his duvet cocoon, but then, Jungkook rounds the doorway and sees Hoseok standing over the stove in a muscle t-shirt, spatula in hand, and that sight itself is enough to propel Jungkook forward into the kitchen.

"He lives," Taehyung announces, grabbing an apple from the constantly-filled fruit basket before he swings himself up onto the marble island.

Hoseok turns to give Jungkook a welcoming smile, and Jungkook shyly looks away, trying not to think about how Hoseok had to clean up last night's mess.

"Good morning, Lazarus," Hoseok greets brightly, like he wasn't cleaning up someone else's chunks during the witching hour, "Some of these are ready, if you're feeling up to it."

Just to please him, Jungkook takes one pancake, but he can't bring himself to douse it in his usual condiments of choice. He sits there, eating it dry, half-listening to Hoseok and Taehyung's conversation, catching a few tidbits here and there, about how Jimin was waxing poetic to Taehyung last night, about how Taehyung was ready to climb him like a tree.

“I don't understand why the two of you don't just get together," Hoseok frowns around his mouthful of pancake, arms folded as Taehyung brings his legs up to cross them, "You never shut up about him, and by the sounds of it, he's besotted. Throw the poor guy a bone, T."

Pulling a face, Taehyung shakes his head, "Relationships are messy. For now, we'll just keep fawning over each other. It's good. Keeps things fresh and exciting."

Sputtering a laugh, Hoseok throws Jungkook a look of disbelief, "If you lying in my bed at midnight crying your eyes out is 'fresh and exciting,' then by all means, continue."

Judging from Taehyung’s wounded expression, Hoseok’s successfully struck a nerve. After some poor attempts at consoling a rather vexed Taehyung, with his hands braced on the countertop, his head hanging from his shoulders, Hoseok listens to Taehyung shout from the flung open front door, “I’m going to see Jimin. Prepare yourself for whatever emotional state I’m going to return in.” Jungkook can hear the immaturity lacing his words, and he offers Hoseok a look of sympathy when he winces as the front door slams shut.

Heaving a sigh, Hoseok chucks a tea-towel across the room before he runs his fingers through his hair, clearly in distress, “He’s like a livewire.” His laughter is weak, forced, and Jungkook finds it cute, how Hoseok seems embarrassed by his son’s dramatic display of offence, despite it being no fault of his own. Jungkook’s used to it by now.

“Tae’s always been a lot to handle,” Jungkook nods in contemplation, quickly thinking back to the many times when him and Jungkook have had small, stupid tiffs, over who showers first, over who last took out the trash, over whose dishes are in the sink; all arguments that you’d expect to be minor, only, Taehyung always heightened the heat, always took their tiffs to lengths that they never needed to go to. Jungkook’s often wondered why Taehyung’s in a business degree when he’d be better off doing drama. He’s definitely got the skill-set, “He wears his heart on his sleeve, let’s himself get hurt easily. He really likes Jimin, which is why I think he’s scared to bite the bullet and ask him to be his.”

Hoseok’s head tilts to the side, he pouts, feeling for his son. He doesn’t find Jungkook’s eye when he murmurs, “Must’ve got it from me,” and Jungkook pretends that he hadn’t heard a peep from him.

The days always drag when Taehyung’s not around. Jungkook’s interests are limited to reading, snapping pictures, drawing and gaming, and all four have already bored him to death by noon. He’s moping around the kitchen, scuffing his feet across the tiles, looking out at the leaves floating through the air, at the ones still attached to their trees. Soon they’ll fall like the others, soon they’ll be swept away to an unknown place.

Hoseok comes into view, pushing his beloved Harley Davidson that Taehyung says he loves more than him and Taehee. Hes’s in a battered muscle tee with black grease scattered along his forearms and biceps, his hair hangs in heavy, greasy curtains over his eyes, and whether or not Jungkook’s aware, a small puff of air leaves him as he takes in the sight.

Boredom sends him outside, out into the flying leaves and soft breeze, and his hands get shoved into his pockets when a chill sneaks down into his hoodie. Hoseok looks up just as Jungkook approaches, corners of his lips twitching into a smile when he watches Jungkook run his palm across the leather seat, eyes filling with awe.

“I was gonna take her out, if you’re up for it?”

Jungkook’s eyes get large. If his mother knew he’d gotten on the back of a motorcycle, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again. “Is it safe?” Jungkook asks dumbly, already knowing the answer, shyly averting his gaze to stare down at the motorcycle when Hoseok chortles.

“About as safe as an open flame,” Hoseok smirks, then elbows Jungkook in the ribs when he rounds the motorcycle, “What’s fun without a little danger?”

Jungkook changes into something more comfortable; his grey sweats, baggy white t-shirt and his battered high-tops. As he bounds down the steps into the garden, he halts abruptly when he catches sight of Hoseok. Their outfits are the polar opposites. Hoseok stands with his helmet tucked underneath his arm in a leather jacket and distressed black jeans that are paired with a chunky pair of black boots. Jungkook blanches. He looks like a sixteen-year-old fuck-boy next to him.

After giving Hoseok a withered look, he mutters, “I should go change.”

He’s in transit before Hoseok can reply, but Hoseok’s grip is soon on his shoulder and he gets pulled backwards, spinning around to face Hoseok.

“Please don’t,” Hoseok pleads gently, and he can’t quite contain his fond smirk when Jungkook pulls a pout, “Comfort, above all else.”

It’s terrifying. Out on the tarmac, weaving in and out of cars, vans and trucks, the force of the wind as they speed down the streets is enough to send Jungkook flying off of the back of the motorcycle. He has no choice but to wrap his arms around Hoseok’s waist, fingers interlocking across Hoseok’s soft stomach. He hides his face in the back of Hoseok’s neck; he's not yet able to bring himself to lift his head and look around at the surroundings that they’re flying past at the speed of light.

Hoseok shouts something when they’re at a stoplight, and initially, Jungkook doesn’t catch it, but when Hoseok shouts it again right as the light turns green, Jungkook hides his smile against the leather of Hoseok’s jacket.

“Hold on tight, Kook, I’m about to show you that danger I was talking about!”

Somehow, he’s not scared anymore. He’s imbued with a buzzing, nervous energy, eager for more of it, craving more of it. The fear becomes addictive. His courage shows itself as he looks around at their flying surroundings.

As Hoseok speeds up, surpassing his traffic-light competitors, Jungkook’s grip becomes tighter than it was before, he’s possibly suffocating Hoseok. If he is, Hoseok doesn’t seem to care. He’s too preoccupied with hollering over the cacophony of the wind and the traffic, laughing almost maniacally when Jungkook squishes his cheek up against Hoseok’s back. He squeezes his eyes shut.

They’re gone for more than an hour, and as Hoseok slowly pulls up outside of his house, Jungkook swears it’s been no more than fifteen minutes. It was all too fast. He wobbles as he climbs off of the motorcycle, knees almost buckling when Hoseok reaches out to grab him, hands holding him up by his armpits. Jungkook gives him a weak, shy smile.

“It’s the adrenaline,” Hoseok explains, treating Jungkook like some sweet, delicate flower as he escorts him into the house, “You should’ve seen me after I climbed off of my first ride. My face was green. To this day I still get scared, but you gotta push past it, test yourself and your courage.”

Jungkook collapses into a heap on the sofa, his legs glad for the non-moving surface. Rolling his shoulders, trying to dispel the tightness in his muscles, Jungkook feels a spark hit him, feels something wash over him, and it spooks him, strikes him to his core, makes his limbs go stiff.

His attention is directed towards Hoseok who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, facing away from Jungkook, arms up over his head as he tugs off his shirt, leather jacket already laying discarded on the floor.

Jungkook’s not quite sure why he’s watching him so intently, why he’s so intrigued by the way Hoseok’s shoulder blades poke out when he moves this way and that, by how, when Hoseok’s got his arms raised high, the light framing him emphasizes the small peek of his dark armpit hair, and he definitely doesn’t know why, when Hoseok’s head bows forward, when his hands reach down in front of him to pop open his fly, why Jungkook wants to simultaneously run far away, and run right towards Hoseok.

“I sweat so much when I go riding,” Hoseok chitchats, paying no mind to Jungkook’s gawping, oblivious to the fact that Jungkook’s going through what can only be described as some sort of a rare, unheard of breakdown, “I just-I always need to get this shit off of me as soon as I get home.”

He can’t speak. Words aren’t possible right now, just noises. Hoseok continues once he receives from Jungkook a weird noise of acknowledgement, “I haven’t got the gear like other bikers do, y’know, leather trousers and monstrously spiked boots. T said that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but, look at me.”

That’s when Hoseok turns around, arms outstretched, hair askew, chequered boxers his only form of modesty, and Jungkook’s fingernails dig into the upholstery as he tries desperately to keep his eyes trained on Hoseok’s face. He swallows, trying to whet the dryness in his mouth, trying to retain some sort of clarity, trying not to sound like he’s spiraling, “I’m looking.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rise towards his hairline, he winks slyly at Jungkook, and Jungkook slowly plucks a cushion from the sofa when Hoseok’s not looking. With burning hot cheeks, Jungkook places it strategically over his lap, biting down some sort of a whine when Hoseok has the brazen nerve to invite Jungkook to throw in his two cents.

“Um,” Jungkook mutters, throat tight, voice rough, cheeks still burning a bright, bright red, “Yeah, well, actually, n-no. I can see where Tae’s coming from, or, no, I can’t, uh… Anyone can wear leather. Tae, me, Taehee…” he feels like a floundering fish, like it’s been out of the water for hours, dehydrating in the high sun, flapping everywhere, gasping desperately for air, “And, y’know, you. You can wear leather. You’d look great in leather.”

“Jungkook,” Hoseok interjects, voice far more level than Jungkook’s, eyebrows pulled together in a concerned frown.


“Are you alright?”

“I think I’m gonna go lie down,” Jungkook chokes, standing abruptly, avoiding Hoseok like the plague as he passes him, scurrying up the stairs like there’s fire trailing after him, or some dangerous beast is out for his blood.

Jungkook lays on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting the various grooves and dips in the plaster, thinking about Hoseok's silhouette, about how his waist dips inwards. He doesn't want his thoughts run away with themselves. He shakes his head furiously, trying to rid himself of his thoughts, but he can't. He thinks about how Hoseok's voice sounded all rough and tired towards the end of the day, low and inviting, he thinks about how badly he wanted to invite him over onto the sofa, to encase him in warmth, how desperately he needed for Hoseok to just, to just fucking, to…

He becomes aware of the heel of his palm pressing onto his cock, and he freezes. Jungkook tries to bring himself back down out of the clouds, but not before he gives one last hard press against his leaking cock, gasping like new life just entered him, slamming his free hand over his mouth to try and contain the sound before he stops touching himself entirely, too ashamed to continue.

With his adrenaline crashing, Jungkook drifts off into a restless sleep, his cock lying untouched and leaking across his hip.

Not only can he not meet Hoseok's eye at breakfast the next morning, he can't meet Taehyung's or Taehee's, either.

He feels like he's a home-wrecker, like he's waltzed into their home, pulled the place asunder, destroyed their family’s heirlooms, then thrown a match to the place and watched it go up in flames. Only, he's done none of that. All he's done is touch himself to the thought of Hoseok. Taehyung's father.

Jungkook feels dirty sitting at the breakfast table, soggy cornflakes far too unappetising to even entertain, coffee too cold to sip, but he remains staring into the soggy orange mess, listening to the conversations around the table, hanging onto the soothing, warm sound of Hoseok's voice before he feels something stirring, something that stirred within him the day before.

He stands, the legs of his chair screeching across the tiles as he exits in a hurry. He feels like a fool, and knows that they're all probably wordlessly exchanging quizzical glances. For his sake, he needed to get out of there.

His day is a lot less exciting. With Hoseok working in the garden for most of the day and Taehyung cooped up in his room with Jimin, Jungkook's free to roam around the living room, and sometimes he peeks out the window to watch Hoseok as he works; pulling some weeds, lopping some hanging branches, raking up green, yellow and orange leaves. They're mundane tasks, completely uninteresting and uninspiring, but Jungkook can't bring himself to look away. That is, until Taehee comes bounding in.

"Weirdo," she greets, frowning as she hurls her book onto the glass coffee table, "What was all that at breakfast? Tae swore you saw a ghost or something."

"I did," Jungkook replies lazily, opting to go the comedic route in an attempt to lure Taehee away from the true reason for his oddity.

She doesn't speak again for a few moments, so Jungkook re-averts his attention back out the window, only to find that Hoseok's disappeared. Sighing in resignation, Jungkook heads towards the kitchen, cursing quietly to himself when he feels Taehee's aura following after him. Collecting an ice pop from the freezer, Jungkook slams it closed loudly before he narrows his eyes at Taehee.

"You never talk to me," he points out, and Taehee shrugs.

"Yeah, well, you're acting weirder than usual and I wanna know why."

"I'm acting the way I always do," Jungkook insists, tongue circling around the ice pop as he glances lazily over at the window, and Hoseok's back, trying to get the lawnmower to start, though it looks like it's a battle. He's staring, and he sort of knows that he is, but part of him just doesn't care. The ice pop gets licked to death, Jungkook's lips feel icy and plump, his eyes are trained on Hoseok's every move.

When he hears a gasp of what sounds to be horror, Jungkook whips his head around.

“Oh. My. God."

Jungkook's stomach drops. Women are far more intuitive than men. He doesn't like the look on Taehee's face, "What? What is it?"

She jabs her finger in the general direction of the window, "No."

Jungkook gulps, runs the length of his shrinking ice pop across his lips, "What?"

"Say it's not true."

"Okay. It’s not true," he's playing dumb, but he knows what Taehee's getting at, his heart's racing, his mind's blanking.

She ignores him, "You."


"You," Taehee's smile is clown-like, wholly comical, and Jungkook wonders if it'd be possible for lightning to just strike him down now, "Dad! Hoseok! I knew I saw you eyeing him the other day-ew," her excitement quickly melts into disgust, until excited intrigue rears its head again, "No way, no way, no way."

She's pinching Jungkook all over, teasing him, and Jungkook's yelping, trying to shield his nipples, trying to deny everything.

He's waiting on that lightning. Any minute now...

"You fancy him," she says, loudly, and Jungkook immediately panics, launches himself forward, clamps his hand over Taehee's mouth.

"Keep your damn voice down," Jungkook hisses, glancing around, checking for any possible eavesdroppers.

Taehee wriggles herself free, elbows pointy and sore as she forces herself out of Jungkook's grip, "No-one can hear us, don't be paranoid. Tae's upstairs with Jimin, Hoseok's out there, it's just you and me little Jungkookie." She folds her arms, grinning a big shit-eating grin, and Jungkook massages his temples, trying to rid himself of the throbbing ache in his skull.

She's only three years older than Jungkook, and the extra life-experience that she has is what encourages Jungkook to venture quietly, "Isn't this weird? It's weird, right?"

Taehee doesn't do what Jungkook expects her to. She doesn't pull a contorted face of disgust, nor does she kick Jungkook out of the house for wanting her dad's dick, instead, she shrugs nonchalantly, "Hoseok's got almost two centuries over you." It's not the kind of reassuring words he'd wanted to hear, but he takes it nonetheless, "I don't think it's weird... It's just a crush. I had a crush on my forty-four-year-old business teacher in high school. I would've let him do it all to me," she shrugs, aiming to console Jungkook with her anecdote, but managing to only make him feel that bit more awful about the entire situation.

"Look," she begins, sighing when she notices Jungkook's mood, like he’s on the lowest battery bar, "You're probably just frustrated. You should find a quick fuck, I'm sure Tae's got a good list of handsome faces you can blow your load over. Invite someone over tonight, it'll be a four-way date."

Jungkook pauses, turning his body slowly to face Taehee. With a line between his brows, Jungkook cocks his head to the side, "Come again?"

"Uh," Taehee starts, then stops. "Well, Jimin's staying for dinner, I've got someone coming over, and Hoseok's got Hyemi."

This is news to Jungkook, news that he's not entirely happy about. He feels instantly excluded, like he was just a forgotten piece to the puzzle, a piece that no-one cared to inform about the night's plans. It doesn't sit well with him, and then, he thinks it might be his own fault. He thinks that somehow Hoseok's caught on, that he knows Jungkook was pathetically stroking himself to the thought of him last night. A shameful pinkish hue crosses over Jungkook's cheeks.

"I've never heard of her," Jungkook mutters, imagining what she's like, kind of hoping that she's a rude bitch, but knowing Hoseok, he concludes that she's probably gorgeous, she's probably lovable, and she's probably Hoseok's age; everything that Jungkook is not.

"She's just someone Hoseok knows from work," Taehee explains, twigging that Jungkook finds the mere mention of her to be repulsive, "Nothing serious."

"And what about your 'someone'? You never told me that you’ve met someone," Jungkook sounds like he's sulking, because he is. He most definitely is.

"I met her last weekend. She fingered me in the taxi on the way to the bar from a house party. Figured she deserved an invite tonight in return for giving me a great orgasm," Taehee's smile is tight, like she's trying to contain her laughter over Jungkook's empty expression. So much information to compute in such little time.

"How romantic," is all Jungkook can manage. He doesn't even glance out at Hoseok before he leaves, just trudges up to his bedroom to lock himself away from everyone.

Characteristically feminine giggles travel upstairs, and Jungkook tries to drown them out by playing some acoustic music whilst he gets ready. He doesn't choose anything fancy, just some black slacks and a loose, partially see-through white shirt, clicking a choker into place around his neck for some added pizazz. After dousing himself in his most favourite perfume, Jungkook wanders into Taehyung's room. He finds him styling Jimin's hair for him, doing it in that sort of 90s-esque hairstyle that Taehyung always goes on about.

"How's it goin'?" Jimin asks, and Jungkook bites back a laugh as he watches Taehyung's tongue dart out between his lips, concentration frown deep on his brow.

"I'm no hairdresser, but I think I did a great job, baby," he emphasises how good of a job he thinks he did by landing a loud, smacking kiss onto Jimin's plump lips.

Taehyung sniffs the air when he hoists himself up off of the floor, then directs his sharp gaze towards Jungkook, "You smell like a young teenage girl in love."

"Smells nice," Jimin comments offhandedly, and Taehyung pulls a face, clearly not agreeing, "Lustful, fruity scents on men? That's sexy, Tae."

"Alright, Jimin," Taehyung drawls, succeeding in sounding bored as he positions his black, woolen beret on his head.

"Who're you getting all dolled up for, anyway?" Jimin asks, gesturing to the choker around Jungkook's neck, like that's what qualifies him as being, 'dolled up.'

"Who's to say I have to get done up for someone?" Jungkook asks, annoyed as he flings himself onto Taehyung's bed, caring not about how his legs just almost decapitated Jimin. "I got dressed up for myself and myself only." He's lying, but it's not like Jimin and Taehyung care. Their attention is already back on one another, with Jimin scrutinising Taehyung's outfit, telling him to change his tie out for a red one.

At the dinner table, Jungkook feels nothing short of miserable. Taehee’s date has arrived, and everyone's successfully paired off bar Jungkook. He’s a pigeon amongst lovebirds. He welcomes the liquor that he sips, because that's his only saviour tonight. He feels ridiculous and lonely amidst the longing stares not directed towards him, the wide, happy smiles, the tooth-rotting romance that he feels he's imposing on. He stabs at a piece of broccoli when Hyemi laughs hysterically at something unfunny that Hoseok's just said, and through the hair hanging in his eyes, Jungkook peers at them, at Hoseok with his arm resting over her shoulders, her body leaning into his. His stomach just feels a tiny, little bit sick.

Jimin and Taehyung are lost in their own, weirdly erotic world. Jungkook watches in mild disgust when Taehyung swipes across Jimin's lower lip before sucking whatever he'd collected off of Jimin's lips off of his thumb. In general, Hyemi is quiet, she keeps close to Hoseok's side, never speaks unless spoken to, and Jungkook just has to wonder if Hoseok's got a type (and if he fits that type). He watches over the rim of his glass when Hyemi holds her hand over her mouth to conceal whatever it is that she's whispering, and whatever it is, it brings a look of salacious intrigue to Hoseok's face.

When Hoseok's eyes flit to Jungkook, Jungkook coughs, whiskey sputtering from his nose, and then, all eyes are on him for the first time that night.

"Kook," Hoseok speaks first, and Jungkook hates how fuzzy his insides feel, how thrilling it is to have Hoseok's attention rapt on him, "You've barely spoken a word all night. You should tell everyone about the short film that you're working on, what's it about again?"

Jungkook's heart drops, it drops far down into his ribcage, into his stomach, and he's sure he's dead, he's convinced that he's just after dying.

The thing is, his project's changed since he'd first told Hoseok about it on his first night there. What used to be a short film about how music can have an astronomical effect on people's lives has turned into one about blending into the background, about how the world keeps turning no matter how invisible you are to others... It's about infatuation, how it's often one-sided, about how utterly soul-crushing it is to realise that the person of your dreams won't so much as blink at you, even in your dreams.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat, noting how the room tilts as he does so, and his eyes widen when he realises that he's on his fourth glass of whiskey.

"It's nothing special," Jungkook speaks down at his plate, toes digging into his shoes when he hears himself slur, "I wish it was just finished, now."

"So, you're a film major?" asks Taehee's date, Alyssa, an exchange student from Canada, "That's cool. I wish I had an artistic eye."

"Photography major," Jungkook corrects, frowning, but at himself, though he's sure he's being miscontrued by those at the table, "I haven't got an artistic eye. I just... I film what I think fits the short."

"Don't downplay yourself," Taehyung butts in from the other end of the table, leaning over Jimin so he can look over at Jungkook, "Your shorts are great, better than most film students'. That one short you made that was in black and white, the one where it's just shots of nature and all? That was so good, Kook."

Ducking his head out of embarrassment, Jungkook mumbles a 'thank you,' and breathes a quiet sigh of relief when the conversation passes.

When he finally thinks it’s safe to lift his gaze, he finds that Hoseok's watching him, and there's concern etched across his brow. Jungkook offers him what he hopes to be a comforting smile.

They all stay the night bar Alyssa, who Taehee bids farewell at the door, kissing her goodnight, begging her to text her as soon as she gets home. When Taehee retreats upstairs, Hoseok and Hyemi stand from their seats. Hoseok takes Hyemi's hand and Jungkook feels like the small grey cloud drifting over his head has just started to trickle rain down onto his hair.

"Going to bed already?" Taehyung asks, an undertone of disappointment in his voice, that is, until both him and Jungkook see how snuggled up Hyemi is, how softly Hoseok's running his hand up along her arm. He shoots finger guns at Hoseok, and Hyemi bashfully hides her face in Hoseok's chest when Taehyung gives him an exaggerated wink, lilting, "Have a good 'sleep,' Hyemi." His tone drops when he regards Hoseok, mumbling drily, "'Night, Hoseok."

“Goodnight, you brat," Hoseok shoots back in good-nature.

Jungkook feels bile rising in his throat.

He doesn't care to stick around downstairs with Jimin and Taehyung who have just stuck on a horror film, which Jungkook knows Taehyung's put on just so he can have Jimin pressed up close against him, whimpering fearfully, treating Taehyung as his protector. Taehyung tries to get Jungkook to stay, and Jungkook briefly forces away his misery, replaces his tightened lips with a reassuring smile, and eventually, Taehyung allows him to wander upstairs.

He doesn't bother to turn his light on when he stumbles through his door, feet catching on the door jam. After tossing his shirt off, he gives up on the clasp of his choker and instead just flops down onto his bed, slacks still on, face unwashed, product still in his hair; all he wants to do is pass the fuck out and forget that tonight ever happened.

He drifts in and out of sleep, tossing and turning. He kicks his socks off when he gets too uncomfortable, too swelteringly hot, and just when he thinks he's asleep, when he's drooling onto his pillow, he hears it.

It's faint, it's far-off sounding, but it's definitely there. Tell-tale sounds, of shuffling, squeaking, creaking. Jungkook lies as still as a mouse, eyes wide in the darkness when he slowly registers what exactly it is that he's hearing. It can't be Jimin and Taehyung, he can hear Jimin's signature squeaky giggle through the floorboards, and Taehyung's loud commentary in reply.

When he hears the sound of a high moan that sounds like it didn't quite reach its height, Jungkook can feel his soul slowly leave his body.

The bedsprings are loud, probably old, probably not used to carrying the combined weight of two writhing bodies.

Jungkook lies there in the darkness, wondering what body his soul is going to inhabit now (maybe a body that’s less pathetic than his).

He marvels over how his night miraculously managed to get worse. When another drawn-out, high muffled moan echoes from Hoseok's end of the house, Jungkook scrambles blindly for his headphones, rolling off of his bed and onto his knees, cursing loudly when his pinky finger knocks against his bedside drawer. When he successfully locates his headphones, he throws back his duvet, huffing as he wraps himself up in it, and he's just about to play his music, his thumb hovers over the play button, but he freezes, eyes widening in horror when he hears it, the low, raspy, groaned, "Take it all for me."

His hand flies up to cover his mouth to contain his yelp of despair, and he slams the play button, trying to drown out any other obscene exclamations.

He lets the song play for thirty seconds before his curiosity gets the better of him. He pauses it, slowly removes his headphones from his ears, and then, he just lies still, so very still, hands splayed by his sides, chest rising and falling slowly. It's him again, Hoseok, encouraging gruffly, "Work your ass back on me." He's answered with an enthusiastic whine.

He's loud. He's really loud. Not only is he loud, but he's vocal.

The darkness helps to mask Jungkook’s perversion, but only a little bit. It helps mask the intrigue that Jungkook can't seem to quell, but what it doesn't mask is the warmth travelling through Jungkook, reaching from his fingertips down to his toes, settling down deep in the pit of his stomach to form a solid, heavy ball of something tight and hot. Masculine groans echo in Jungkook's ears, and his lips part, his hands move from his sides to rest flatly on his lower abdomen, and when Jungkook hears the sound of one single, solid smack of skin hitting skin, he keens, squeezing his eyes shut, pleading out into the vast darkness, "Please, no."

His hand wanders downwards of its own accord, palming over the length of his cock. His teeth dig painfully into his lower lip when the light friction provides him with little relief.

He's hard, and only getting harder. He pushes away his shame so that he can listen to Hoseok speak so brashly, command so effectively, give so eagerly.

It feels too good, palming himself through his slacks, pushing the heel of his hand down against the sensitive head of his dripping cock. He tries to focus only on Hoseok, to drown out the feminine whimpers, and he's becoming more undone, his hand moving a bit more fervently, his mind honing in on Hoseok's choked words, "'You like it hard? 'You like taking my cock hard and fast, honey?"

"Yes," Jungkook whines softly in response, eyes rolling back into his head as his hips thrust up against his palm, and his whole body quivers.

When it quietens down for a few moments, Jungkook's panting heavily, his vision is blurry at the edges, and there it is, there's the shame he was waiting for. He stops palming himself as he blinks rapidly into his friend the darkness, swallowing hard before he turns himself over to lay on his stomach, huffing as his cock gets smothered. He closes his eyes, trying to bring down his erratic breathing, trying to conjure an unsavoury image in his brain.

He hasn't heard anything yet, they seem to have stopped, and Jungkook can't bring himself to finish himself off. He's far too ashamed to chase after his pleasure.

How pathetic? How fucking pathetic of him to rub himself off to the sound of Hoseok fucking someone that isn't him.

It's funny how he thought he could easily just drift off into a peaceful slumber, because no, no way in hell could Hoseok let him do that.

"Good girl," he hears it, carried through the plaster of the walls, through the insulation and the grout, "That's my girl."

Jungkook sinks into his mattress, groaning lowly into his pillow, circling his hips down against his mattress, but he's too constricted. He fumbles with his belt, gasping as he loosens it, and he opens his fly. He's about to stick his hand down his underwear to fist his cock to completion when he hears giggles amidst the throes of passion. That's what stops him. He braces his hands instead by the sides of his head, pushing them down into his pillows, and Hoseok's started up again, growling, groaning, fucking loudly and without caution.

He feels dirty, so terribly unclean, but Hoseok sounds too good, the image of him doing such things to Jungkook is just too overwhelming, too dizzying.

He feels choked, and not the kind of choked that he wants to feel. Breathing heavily, he slips his fingers into the velvet of the choker wrapped around his neck, and he tugs roughly, ripping it right off of himself, sending the clasp clattering against hs headboard. A satisfied sigh leaves him as he tosses the broken choker to the bottom of his bed.

The slide of cotton against his cock is uncomfortable, scratchy, but the friction is just enough, he grinds down against his mattress, keening noises spilling from him, fingers fisting tightly into his pillow as his cock throbs for more attention, for extra friction that he gives it by grinding down harder. He emits a hard curse when Hoseok croons, "Fuck, bounce on that dick, bounce on that hard fucking cock, baby." He presumes the smack that follows is as a result of Hoseok's palm landing on soft flesh, and Jungkook whimpers into his pillow, teeth scraping against the linen.

He doesn't care anymore. He doesn't care that his own springs are starting to scream, that his headboard sometimes knocks against the wall, he just fucking needs this, he needs Hoseok to pin him down to his mattress, to brace his palms on his back and fuck him hard, thick cock filling him up nice and good. He somehow believes that it's less perverse if he's not touching himself, if he just shamelessly humps his mattress like an animal in heat.

When a throaty, choked-off, "Fffuck," travels through the walls, Jungkook moves faster, hips rolling, cock sliding mercilessly against his lower abdomen and Calvin Klein underwear that a sorrowful voice in the back of his mind begs him to take off before he finishes, but no, it's too late, his legs are starting to shake, his mute button has stopped working. Two more hard thrusts against the mattress is what does it, what yanks Jungkook into bliss. He comes hard, toes curling, fingers locking, mouth open against his pillow as he muffles his shaky cry, "H-Hoseok."

He doesn't hear anything after that.

He goes limp, his mind blanks, and as his cum starts to dry in his underwear, his slacks lying halfway down his ass, Jungkook passes out.

There's nothing more mortifying than having to stand beneath a stream of water, watching with downturned lips as the water trickles down over his abdomen to his neatly trimmed pubes, washing out the crusted cum that Jungkook had glanced down at when he'd awoken that morning, instant disgust washing over him as he thought back to his shameful hump session.

After washing away his cum and unspeakable sins, Jungkook doesn't wander downstairs like he typically does. He considers sneaking down to grab a breakfast muffin, and his hand is on the doorknob when he imagines having to look at Hoseok, having to present himself before him after shamelessly having what was close to the best orgasm of his life to the very thought of him. He retreats immediately, pulls his towel tighter around his waist, and just as he's about to change, he hears Hyemi, her laughter coming from either the kitchen or the living room, and it's sickening, he hates the sound of it, it fills him up with jealousy.

Something clicks in him. His shame switches off and his cocksureness switches on. He glances at himself in his mirror, his hair still damp and towel still wrapped firmly around his waist. Maybe he hasn’t got that god-like handsomeness to him like Taehyung does, but he’s still got that boyish handsomeness to him, a pure, youthful twinkle in his big eyes. He loosens the towel, rearranges it lower on his hips, just so that his v-line is visible. Before he knows it, he's bounding down the stairs, listening out for Hoseok, and when he hears his voice drifting out from the kitchen, Jungkook squares his shoulders, fixes his face, and saunters in.

"Morning," he greets cheerfully, making a point to ignore Hoseok and Hyemi's stares, especially Hyemi's.

Neither speak for a moment, and Jungkook's perusing the fridge, bending at the waist to inspect its items before finally deciding on a carton of banana milk. When he turns around to face them, fortunately for Hyemi, she catches herself, and serves Jungkook a warm smile, however, the same can't be said for Hoseok.

Jungkook had caught his lingering gaze, had seen his eyes roam across his chest, flickered away and then returned to cascade downwards. When Jungkook grips his towel with one hand and throws his head back to slurp down his drink with the other, he hears Hoseok clear his throat loudly. "You're up early," he says, and Jungkook emits a pleased sigh, smacking his lips as he places his finished carton on the countertop.

"Didn't sleep well," Jungkook explains tersely, and he doesn't know if he's imagining it, the coy twitch of Hoseok's lips, "Too many bumps in the night."

He can see Hyemi's face fall, her complexion paling, but Hoseok doesn't take a knock, or, at least, not a visible one. He's staring at Jungkook, and he's sort of expressionless. Jungkook's starting to feel chilling goosebumps blossom across his damp skin.

When the silence lengthens, Hyemi stands, handbag slung over her shoulder, "I should go."

Hoseok shifts his attention to her. He brings her into a tight hug, presses a light kiss to her cheek and offers her a small smile when she waves at Jungkook before exiting.

The front door slams shut, and Jungkook's already turned away from Hoseok, inspecting the fridge again for something to eat. Such a shame that it’s not food that will satisfy his hunger.

"What was that all about?" Hoseok asks, sounding like he's reining himself in, like he's trying to keep himself calm and collected. Jungkook can tell that he wants to rage like a bull.

Frowning, pretending that he doesn't have a clue what Hoseok's talking about, Jungkook purses his lips in thought, "What was all what about?"

"Don't give me that face," Hoseok warns lightly, walking over to the island to stare Jungkook down from across it, "You came down here to flaunt, and I'm not sure I know why exactly you went about doing it this way, but that wasn't cool, Jungkook. She's a lot older than you. I doubt she would've found all of this melodrama appealing," he gestures to Jungkook's state of undress.

Jungkook's gobsmacked. His mouth pops open into an O shape and he gapes at Hoseok in disbelief.

"You-she-I'm sorry, what?"

"You like her, right? I don't blame you. She's very pretty and..." he trails off, trying to coax Jungkook into a confession. He pauses for a moment, lips tight, and he smiles to himself like an exciting memory had just come to mind. Jungkook feels like he's watching them both from above, like the machinery in his brain has just rusted up, "She's lovely. But not interested. She wasn't even interested when I suggested a second date, said she's not looking for something serious."

He wants to shout at Hoseok, to throw his arms to the heavens and shout until he's hoarse, because how wrongly could Hoseok possibly construe this situation?

It just sort of... Bursts from him. His brain momentarily stops functioning, his filter broken, and Jungkook asks calmly, "Did you fuck her?"

Like he didn't just jack-off to the sounds of him fucking her mere hours earlier.

Hoseok doesn't flinch but remains pointedly stoic, and it's almost like he's forcing himself to not react.

"Isn't that a bit personal, Kook?" he asks with a curious lilt to his voice. His head's cocked to the side, he's watching Jungkook, trying to read him, but Jungkook won't let him. He crosses his arms, pulls up his front, caging himself in, but he's nervous, his trembling hands betray him.

He feels like he's being rude, and for some reason or another, the reaction it brings out of Hoseok excites him.

"Not so personal when the whole house can hear the two of you," Jungkook mumbles, and his stomach flips when Hoseok glares at him, starts walking, comes up by Jungkook's side.

"This is what it's all about? You're jealous of me?" Hoseok asks, evidently thinking he's fit all the pieces together, only, he couldn't be more off. The puzzle that he’s put together is skewed, its picture warped.

"No," Jungkook insists. It's the other way around, "Why would I be jealous of you?"

"You came traipsing down here wearing next to nothing to try and impress her," Hoseok's voice is a tad louder now, growing more annoyed.

"Do you really think that?" Jungkook asks, and he's surprised by how small he sounds, by how wounded he feels; Hoseok really doesn't get it.

"Yes, Kook, I do. Why else would you have acted that way?" Hoseok exclaims, exasperated, eyes falling down to look at Jungkook's arms that are hugging himself tightly. All he wants to do is disappear. He's staring at the floor when silence settles, when Hoseok slinks away from him, arms reaching behind himself, fingers ruffling the back of his hair as he sighs, "You shouldn't feel ashamed."

Oh, if only he knew what Jungkook was really ashamed about.

"Okay," Jungkook replies lamely, feeling tired, so very tired and defeated. It was silly of him to think that his strategy would work in the first place. Hoseok isn't some horny twenty-something who gets hard at the sight of skin and muscle, he's experienced, not like most of the guys Jungkook's been with who get hard over the mere mention of sex. "I'm gonna... Go," he mumbles, pulling his towel up higher around his hips, trying to contain his sigh as he feels Hoseok's gaze follow the movement.

He stays locked in his room for the whole day, requesting snacks from either Jimin or Taehyung via text; it's usually Jimin, because he's nicer and more willing to bend to Jungkook’s every wish.

He tries reading, but gets turned off of it when a badly written blowjob scene pops up out of nowhere, he tries to beat his high score in his video game, but he can't even get anywhere near it, and when he's slouched against his headboard trying to write an essay, he hears a soft rapping at his door.

He doesn't expect to find Hoseok with two glasses of white wine in his hands, and he almost wants to slam the door in his face. It hurts to look at him. His smile sends a pang of pain to his heart, and when he brushes past Jungkook, waiting not for his invitation, Jungkook sighs deeply, eyes closing momentarily as he gathers himself before he turns to Hoseok who’s already perched on his bed, squinting at the screen of his laptop.

"That's just a draft," Jungkook informs, and Hoseok continues reading, "It's due after the break. I should've started it ages ago.”

"Back in College, I used to leave everything until the night before. I remember when my thesis was due, I wrote all 10,000 words of it in one night. I probably looked like death itself the next day, might've even scared some first years into thinking that the rapture was coming," Hoseok reminisces as Jungkook reaches over him to move his laptop over onto his desk. Leaning against the desk, Jungkook looks down at his feet, waiting quietly for Hoseok to explain why he's here, eagerly waiting for him to offer him the full glass of wine that he presumes is meant for him. He doesn't care that it's barely three o'clock.

"Listen," Hoseok begins, sighing, pushing himself to the edge of the bed, taking a sip from his glass before he finally offers Jungkook the other one, "I'm sorry about earlier."

"You don't need to apologise to me," Jungkook stresses, "I made Hyemi feel uncomfortable. It was wrong of me to parade around like that." Maybe it wouldn't have been so wrong if Hoseok had realised that he'd done it for him and not her. "We should just forget that it ever happened," he advises, though, a part of him wonders if Hoseok wants to remember him confidently strutting around in his post-shower state.

The smile that he's met with is small, understanding, "Agreed." Jungkook feels some sort of way about Hoseok lounging on his bed in joggers and a loose striped top, and he tries not to think about how exactly he feels. Hoseok's glancing around at the room, at Jungkook's belongings, "You've really left your mark here, haven't you?"

Confused, Jungkook glances around at his surroundings. He sips some of his wine, "How so?"

Hoseok stands and points to the polaroids dotted across the wall, "You've added your own touch. Everything has its place. You're neat, unlike Taehyung. This room has been unused for so long, it’s nice to see some life in it. These are cute, especially this one," he points to a picture that Jungkook had snapped one night when him, Hoseok and Taehyung had shared a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. It's of Taehyung and Hoseok: Taehyung's slightly blurry, leaning forward, laughing, and Hoseok's smile is wide and cheesy, his eyes crinkled slits, "I don't remember that being taken."

"I like snapping candid pictures," Jungkook explains as he stands alongside Hoseok, their shoulders brushing, "There's something about capturing the moment when no-one's aware of it being captured that I like," he runs his fingers over Hoseok in the photograph, "I think Tae had just said something about how you're in your thirties spending your Friday night with two twinks. It was funny."

"I do enjoy it, though," Hoseok insists, tone soft, and then, clarifies quietly, "Spending time with you, I mean. And T, of course. No matter how obnoxious he can be."

"You love him," Jungkook teases, bumping Hoseok with his hip, and Hoseok ducks his head, smiling to himself, "I admire the relationship that you've got with him. It's rare to find parents that genuinely enjoy spending time with their children. You and Taehyung have this bond that could easily be passed off as a best friend-type of bond. It's cute."

"Shucks," Hoseok coos, laughing to alleviate the embarrassment Jungkook spies on his cheeks. He turns to Jungkook, his brow slightly furrowed as he asks, "What're things like between you and your dad? I've never heard you mention him."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, "Considering he left when I was five, there's not much to say, really."

Hoseok's quiet for a moment. He drinks from his glass, his gaze raising to Jungkook, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook blows a raspberry, waves his hand in the air to dispel whatever sympathy Hoseok holds, "Don't be. I was so young; I barely even remember him."

"Well," Hoseok inhales a breath, and Jungkook's eyes are fixed on the two tiny dimples that appear above his mouth when he does so, "I can't put myself in his shoes, but he's missing out on something great. If he'd bothered to stick around, he'd certainly be proud of the kind of man that you've blossomed into."

The air's shifted around them, the sincerity that's unfolded makes Jungkook's skin itch. Hoseok's tone awakens the butterflies in Jungkook's stomach, sends them into a flying, wild frenzy. Jungkook bows stiffly towards Hoseok, "Thank you."

They just gaze at each other for a few moments, no words passing between them until Hoseok snaps out of his reverie and looks down at his glass, swiftly draining its remains.

"I'm making dinner tonight. I'll crack out the barbecue and light the outside stove. It's supposed to be a mild night," he's heading towards the door, and Jungkook doesn't want him to leave. He trails after him, is tight on his heels. Hoseok turns when he's in the doorway, and Jungkook has to quickly take a step back. Hoseok's smile sends his butterflies bumping into one another, "Get to work on that essay of yours."

He can't work on his essay.

He keeps replaying him and Hoseok's exchange over and over again in his mind until the sun disappears and the moon peaks over the horizon.

When the smell of burning coal starts to permeate his bedroom, Jungkook saves his work, closes his laptop, and throws open his wardrobe. He picks something casual, a white shirt that Taehyung's often said compliments his silhouette, black, torn jeans, and he's about to go searching for his choker before he remembers its demise, blushing furiously as he realises what had become of it. After taking fifteen minutes to part his hair perfectly, Jungkook spritzes himself with some perfume before he heads downstairs.

Everyone's already outside. Taehee's out with Alyssa, so it's just Jimin and Taehyung cozied up together on the porch swing watching Hoseok as he mans the barbecue, turning some corn with his tongs. Jimin greets Jungkook with some sort of a holler. "Welcome, welcome," Taehyung gestures for him to come close, and then proceeds to pull Jungkook down into a tight hug. Jimin's fingers prod into his armpits, and Jungkook flinches violently, jumping away.

"Hoseok made some kind of punch," Jimin says, inspecting the liquid in his glass, "I dunno what the fuck he put in it but it's doing the trick."

Taehyung giggles into his shoulder, and for once, Jungkook doesn't feel envious of the two. If anything, he watches them in quiet adoration.

"How's the essay?" Hoseok calls over his shoulder as he drops some chicken wings onto a plate.

Sitting down in a wicker chair, Jungkook shivers as a light gust of wind passes over the garden, "Fine. I've still got a lot to do."

"Fuck the essay," Taehyung exclaims loudly, raising his glass to Jungkook, "Your stay here isn't about coursework. You're here to have fun and by God, it's fun you'll have."

That sounds like a threat, and Jungkook can't help but laugh at his friend who's already teetering over sobriety.

He's brought down his polaroid camera, and he snaps some pictures when they all settle. He takes one of Jimin and Taehyung, when Jimin's whispering something to Taehyung and Taehyung's got a salacious look on his face. He sneaks one of Hoseok when he's unsuspecting, when he's standing at the top of the steps with his arms crossed and expression soft, intently listening to one of Taehyung's many spiels.

The night passes smoothly, easily. Hoseok takes it upon himself to make sure that Jungkook's plate is constantly piled high until it gets to a point where the waistband of Jungkook's slacks feels a smidgen too tight and he has to beg around a mouthful of chicken for Hoseok to stop. Instead, he keeps Jungkook's glass topped up and curiously, Jungkook notices how he doesn't do the same for Taehyung or Jimin. That could just be because the two are, as always, lost in their own little, magical world.

Hoseok joins Jungkook on the swing, his hand gripping Jungkook's knee tightly when it moves as he sits down, eyes wide as his life momentarily flashes before his eyes before he plays off his fear with an embarrassed, breathless laugh. Taehyung's got Jimin perched on his knee, and they're becoming more and more drawn off. Taehyung's hands wander more, Jimin's whispers turn to inaudible hushes, and when Taehyung's got his tongue down Jimin's throat, Hoseok makes a noise of repulsion.

"Take it to the bedroom, kids," Hoseok instructs, grinning proudly when Taehyung shoots him a steely glare. It doesn't take much persuasion for Jimin to detach himself from Taehyung's limbs. He holds out his hand for Taehyung to take, and before they depart for bed, Taehyung leaves them with a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous wink. "Those two are constantly all over each other," Hoseok muses, heels dug into the floorboards as he gently rocks the swing. Jungkook's got his knees drawn up, hugging them close to his chest for warmth.

"And if they're not all over one another, then they're sniffling when they're apart," Jungkook continues, trying to enter into small-talk easily, but he can't ignore the hairs standing to attention on his arms, and he doesn't think that it's as a result of the cold.

He watches Hoseok as he polishes off his drink, setting his glass aside, and he's glowing, even in the dim light, his cheekbones glisten, his lips shine. There's so much about Hoseok that Jungkook finds himself spending way too much time thinking about. There's the lines around his eyes, proof of happiness of years gone by, the five o'clock shadow that is always there at nightfall, speckled across his upper lip and chin. There's the smooth, enviable slope of his nose, the gentle downward curvature of his ears, the spattering of grey hair by his ears, there's just so much.

It’s as if the heavens opened one day and brought down with them Hoseok, thinking him too pristine and beautiful to be kept hidden behind its gates.

Jungkook licks his lips as he eyes Hoseok's, not even trying to pretend that he's not enamoured by the small heart shape that they form when pulled into a pout.

"What about you, Kook? Got yourself a special someone?" Hoseok asks, and it's quiet, it's somewhat cautious, and Jungkook feels his stomach do a small flip.

"No," he answers, glancing up at the starlit sky, trying to find a pattern in the shining lights, "I'm not really looking for someone right now."

Because, to him, he's got someone, only, that someone hasn't even realised that Jungkook's set his sights on him, and that special someone looks beautiful tonight. In the relaxed atmosphere, Hoseok looks at peace, he's carefree, and Jungkook wonders what that's like, to not be constantly wound up, to not have any worries. He's sure Hoseok's got some, and if he does, then he knows how not to show it.

"You deserve someone," Hoseok mutters, joining Jungkook in gazing at the stars. He feels too tense beside Hoseok and he wants to loosen up, to have his shoulders droop, his chest bloom with warmth instead of foreboding, and he knows how to fill it with warmth, but to go about doing that may result in disaster.

"I'm young," Jungkook defends, stilling when Hoseok begins to move, arms stretching up towards the sky before they come down to rest across the back of the swing, over Jungkook's shoulders. His airways tighten, he breathes out a slow breath, "Someone will find me eventually."

Either Hoseok can't take a hint, or Jungkook can't successfully leave a trail of clues in his wake.

Gusto that he never knew he had hits Jungkook, a voice at the forefront of his mind yells at him to do something, to take a chance for once in his miserable life.

What's there to lose? A friendship. Pride. His last will left to live. But he can't even consider what could go wrong right now, not when the moment has finally presented itself, not when he's already shifting, trying to act coy as he lays a soft hand on Hoseok's thigh.

The earth doesn't implode. The stars don't fall from the sky. The moon doesn’t come crashing down to earth.

Hoseok freezes, but doesn't say anything. Minutes pass in silence, and Jungkook's heart beats wildly in his chest as he strokes his thumb softly over Hoseok's thigh. Nothing's happened to indicate that these boundaries that have been crossed are forbidden, but at this point, he just wants something to happen, something that'll put an end to this all, whether it be good or bad.

"Jungkook..." Hoseok whispers, and it's like a warning, a weak, very weak one at that. It's not enough to make Jungkook pull his hand back like he's been scorched by a flame, and he's only filled with hopeful vigour when Hoseok says again, lowly, "Kook."

"What was that thing you said? About danger?" Jungkook asks nervously as he sits forward, turning his body to face Hoseok, hand still placed firmly on Hoseok's thigh.

Hoseok's looking at him now, apprehension evident on his features, but there's no abhorrence, nothing to indicate to Jungkook that this isn't okay.

Hoseok stares down at Jungkook's hand as he recalls quietly, "What's fun without a little danger?"

"Do you live by those words?" Jungkook asks, and his breathing's shallow, his pulse is deafening, his hands are shaking, palms clammy. It takes him all of his might for him to not do more, to not swing his leg over Hoseok's lap and find out about just how fun danger can be.

"Depends," Hoseok husks, and then, to Jungkook's shock, his hand covers Jungkook's, squeezing, "You shouldn't."

"Please," Jungkook begs quietly, desperation so evident, "Let me be your danger."

Hoseok's mouth opens like he's going to say something, then it quickly slams shut. His hand leaves Jungkook's and he rubs at his face with his two hands, groaning.

Jungkook says it sweetly, innocently, with hurt puppy eyes as he stares down at the ground, feeling the oncoming heartbreak rumble beneath the earth, "It's okay to want me."

"You're younger than Tae," Hoseok says it like he can't quite believe it, and Jungkook ignores the way he groans like he's distressed, "You don't want to do this."

"I always think about you," Jungkook swoops in, removing his hand from Hoseok's thigh when he feels everything begin to fall apart, "You have no idea how often you're on my mind. You're wonderful, so, so wonderful. I don't care that you're way older than me, you're such an amazing person, Hoseok, I want you, I want you so, so bad and I just can't hide it from you anymore."

What he doesn't expect to happen is to be met with sorrowful eyes, a soft caress on his cheek, and he gasps, leaning his cheek in eagerly against Hoseok's palm, like how a kitten would to its beloved owner.

"You're so young," Hoseok informs, like Jungkook doesn't know, like that wasn't the main reason why he's kept his dirty secret hidden all this time, "You’ve barely dipped your toes in this whirlwind called life. You don't want me."

"Hoseok," Jungkook whines, hands coming up to hang onto Hoseok's wrist, to try and keep his hand pressed firmly to his cheek, "I do. I do, I do, I do."

"I've got a mortgage, a career, two children who I love very much," Hoseok speaks like he's trying to stress the fact that he's not on Jungkook's level at all, he's way past Jungkook's level in life, he's been through the trials and tribulations of youth years ago, he can't go through it all again. Jungkook feels him slipping away as each moment passes. He looks deep into Jungkook's eyes when he asks, "What would Taehyung think? What would others think?"

"I don't care anymore," Jungkook insists, tone high, voice cracking as he stares intensely at Hoseok, "You shouldn't, either."

"I'm in a completely different place in my life, Kook. We’ve got different worries, different timelines. You've yet to even experience the world, properly," Hoseok continues, trying to put Jungkook off, but it won't work.

Feeling like he's falling, like this was all just a big, ugly mistake, Jungkook's shoulders droop, his head hangs as he whispers, "If you don't want me, just say it."


"Don't sugarcoat it. Just please, tell me. Tell me you that don't want me and I'll never bring this up again."

Hoseok studies his face, but Jungkook can't meet his eye. He wants him to tell him how it is, to tell him that this will never happen, that he's stupid for thinking it ever would. He just fucking wants Hoseok to give it to him, no matter how truthful he is, no matter how hurtful.

"Look at me," Hoseok requests softly, tone strangely sad, and Jungkook can't, he can't, "Please look at me, petal."

He seizes up. His body reacts viscerally, a violent shiver trickles down his spine, and Jungkook does as he's told, he stares into Hoseok's deep, brown eyes. He feels as if he’s swimming in them.

"Think about this, really think about this. You're in your first year of college. When I was in college, the internet was still a novelty. When you were born, I was around your age. Young and stupid, doing drugs like they were my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I adopted Taehyung and Taehee when I was twenty-one because I had the money to do so and I wanted to give them good lives. They've got their good lives, they're both flourishing. You've got so much ahead of you, Kook, I don't want to intrude on your youth, I don't want to push you into maturing when you've got so much immaturity to experience."

Jungkook's shaking his head, his throat feels tight and sore, his eyes burn, "Don't you understand? I don't care. I'm sick of living my life. My youth has been nothing worth holding onto, all it's brought me is stress. The only thing that's given me energy and hope is you."

Hoseok swipes Jungkook's hair off of his forehead, and he tucks a strand back behind his ear. His sad eyes are too painful for Jungkook to gaze into.

"You say that now. When you're my age, you'll wish that you made the most of it."

"I want you so bad," Jungkook says softly, voice whiny, the heat deep down at the base of his spine sparking, even now. He's got nothing more to say to try and sway Hoseok, all he has now is raw emotion that he unleashes in a tearful plea, "Please, want me."

When it happens, it's not relieving, nor is it euphoric.

The gentle kiss that Hoseok presses to the corner of Jungkook's mouth is tender, filled with apology. He can't help the gasp that gets ripped from him, and he chases after Hoseok's lips, leans forward, kisses blindly, whimpers when after Hoseok goes stiff, he relaxes, welcomes Jungkook, lets him part his lips with the point of his tongue, and Jungkook's panting. His fingers find Hoseok's hair, he holds on for dear life, trying to get him to stay, to not leave, but eventually, Hoseok breaks the kiss, and there's definitely horror on his face, though he's trying to mask it.

His chest feels compressed, like there's a massive weight settled there, and he watches helplessly as Hoseok stands, eyes closing.

He bends to press his lips to the crown of Jungkook's head. "Go to bed," Hoseok says, voice rough and tight, "I'll see you in the morning. We'll talk then."

It pains him to watch Hoseok go, and when he's alone out in the darkness, Jungkook welcomes the mighty gust of wind that sends leaves flying through the twilight.

He doesn't cry, he doesn't move, he just cranes his neck to gaze up at the stars. He wonders if there's a star in the sky that he could make a wish to.

He chooses a bright one, the brightest of them all, and then, Jungkook wishes for his world to somehow piece itself back together after falling apart.

His legs carry him as he sprints through a neighbourhood, the road lined with bare trees, the sky overcast and dreary, clouds rolling ominously above him.

He'd dodged Hoseok that morning by getting up earlier than him. He’d pulled on his joggers and trainers in pitch-black darkness, and as soon as he was outside, he'd just started running as fast as legs could carry him.

He's been cooped up in the house for too long, exercise will do him good, fill him with the endorphins that he so desperately needs. It's been a while since he last ran, his knees wobble when he pauses at a stoplight, watching the red light patiently, hopping from side to side to keep his heart rate elevated, and when it turns green, he speeds off, the wind blowing his hair, sneaking up his sleeves, down into the collar of his shirt.

By the time he arrives home, Jungkook hobbles up the driveway, panting heavily, hands resting on the small of his back when he notices that Hoseok's car isn't there.

He's glad.

He finds Taehyung seated at the kitchen table with his headphones on, pen in hand, laptop open; he's studying, and it's a sight that Jungkook rarely sees.

Overcome with an urge to hug Taehyung, to seek closeness, Jungkook bends down into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face hidden in the side of his neck. He hears Taehyung sigh, and then, he smiles lightly as he brings his hands up to grasp Jungkook's forearms, "You've been off lately."

"Just stressed with school," Jungkook assures, but Taehyung's not stupid.

"No, you've seemed..." he pauses, like he's searching for the right wording, "And don't take this the wrong way, but you've seemed really down since like, the first week. Is everything okay? I know Jimin has been taking up a lot of my time, but I'm always here for you if you need to talk."

If Taehyung had twigged that something's up with him, Jungkook wonders how others have been reading him, if they've noticed, too.

The smile that Jungkook forces when Taehyung stands to confront him is hard to pull off, and probably even harder to believe, "I'm okay. If I need to talk, I'll come to you."

Taehyung studies him for a moment with narrowed eyes, trying to silently coax him to spill, but Jungkook remains locked.

"Alright, well," Taehyung sighs, extending his arms out for Jungkook to walk into, "You know that I love you, right?"

Nodding, feeling a pleasant warmth bloom in his chest, Jungkook walks into Taehyung's arms, wraps his arms around Taehyung's waist, mumbles into Taehyung's clavicle, "Love you too."

They both deserve a night out. Jungkook's been diligently working on his essay, and so has Taehyung. It's rare for them both to put so much effort into a piece of coursework, but when one announces that they're going to study, the other realises that they should, too. It's a good system, and only serves to benefit the both of them.

Neither of them really feel that awful about downing three shots of whiskey the second they rock up to the bar. If anything, they deserve the poison.

Taehyung's banned Jimin from tagging along tonight, had pushed him away by his chest when he'd approached Taehyung, "Tonight's about us. Not you. You, stay here."

Jimin hadn't even argued, had just passed Taehyung to Jungkook like he was some sort of baton, and Jungkook had happily taken him.

Taehyung doesn't search the crowd for pretty faces that he thinks might tickle Jungkook's taste buds. He engages in conversation with Jungkook, and it's nice, to just sit and get drunk and not prowl around for what could be a good fuck. Their conversations typically deepen with the drunker they get, and tonight is no exception as Taehyung looks down at an ashtray when he mumbles, "Y'know, I'm scared for life after college. You're lucky, you've still got two more years left. What am I gonna do, Kook? In 7 months I'll be thrust into the big, bad world, I dunno what the fuck I wanna do with my life."

"You should go into fashion photography," Jungkook suggests, and Taehyung purses his lips pensively, considering it, "The pictures that you take of Jimin are breathtaking."

"Jimin," Taehyung sighs deeply, reaching for his glass, and Jungkook watches as its contents disappear into Taehyung's mouth, "I don't know how we're gonna keep this alive whilst we’re away at college."

"You'll both be fine. You're like two lovebirds, distance won't be enough of a factor to destroy what you've got."

Taehyung smiles sadly, "I sure hope it won't."

"So, when are you gonna tell me?" Jungkook leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes shining as he watches Taehyung get all bashful, "Spill."

"Alright, alright," Taehyung laughs, "We’re exclusive now. Jimin asked me to be his boyfriend the other night."

"Tae," Jungkook cheeps in some sort of a weird squeak, "That's great. I'm so happy for you."

"I mean, finally, right? Sheesh, we took our damn time coming to terms with how we felt about one another."

"Well," Jungkook claps his hands together, "You got there eventually and that's all that matters."

The dreaded question comes, like it always does, when Jungkook's feeling pleasantly content. He's not going to allow himself to fall down into a dark, depressing hole.

"How about you? Has anyone in this big bad world enticed you?"

Everything inside of him twists, he feels like there's millions of knots being tied inside of his body as the urge to just tell Taehyung overwhelms him.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat, humming, running the pad of his index finger around and around his glass, "Not really, but I wanna ask you something." Taehyung's eyebrows rise out of interest, and he shoos his hand at Jungkook, signalling for him to continue. "This might sound weird, or it might not, but, I need your two cents on this," Jungkook scoots closer to Taehyung, and he feels a little bit queasy. He pushes all of his emotions down, breathes in, "Have you ever dated someone older?"

It's not what Taehyung was expecting, and if anything, his expression suggests that he's disappointed that Jungkook didn't ask him something juicier.

"I mean, Jimin's older," Taehyung frowns deeply, confused by the question.

"No, not-not like a few months or a year or two older, I mean like... Over ten years, or y'know... Eighteen years. Older."

Apparently nothing phases Taehyung. He barely even reacts before he lazily recalls, "In first year my history professor fucked me. I think he was in his early 30s."

"What?" Jungkook shouts, and a lady shoots him a glare. He laughs nervously, apologising to her before he barks, "You never told me that."

"Yeah, because it was fucking awful. He was really fucking hot but the guy came in less than two minutes and left me to finish myself off. This ass was just too much for him, apparently." He doesn't know where to take the conversation after that. He quietly sips his drink, and as he reaches for Taehyung's packet of cigarettes, there's a strange, curious edge to Taehyung's voice when he quirks his eyebrow, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Jungook answers quickly, and inwardly, he scolds himself for panicking, because Taehyung isn't going to know, of course he isn't, "Curiosity, that's all."

"Nuh-uh," Taehyung wags his finger in front of Jungkook's face, not accepting his lame excuse, "I've been watching you for the past few weeks, and there's something going on. Now, what is it? Have you fallen for a Sugar Daddy on that app that we mess on sometimes? Are you lusting after a Daddy?"

Horrified, Jungkook furiously shakes his head, "No. I don't use that."

"Then what's going on?" Taehyung questions, propping his chin on his hand as he inspects Jungkook's guarded countenance, "Who is he? How old? Lay it all out in the open, honey. You know I'd never judge you."

Jungkook wants to laugh. How ironic, how painfully ironic of Taehyung to say that he wouldn't judge Jungkook and his predicament.

"Don't be so sure about that," Jungkook warns. He starts to actually consider telling Taehyung, just to see his reaction, to test their friendship. This whole thing could be detrimental to what they have, but Jungkook can't conceal it anymore, he can't keep it hidden, and since nothing's ever likely to come of it, he's becoming all the more willing to open up about it. Does he really want to tell Taehyung about his egregious feelings for Hoseok?

He glances around at their surroundings, at couples leaning in close over candlelight, at friends laughing like hyenas. He takes Taehyung's hand, telling him to bring his drink with him as they weave their way through the crowd. They arrive outside, and Taehyung shivers violently, pulling his jacket in tight around his body. He fixes Jungkook a perplexed look, "Care to tell me why we're out in the elements?"

Jungkook shakes his hands by his sides, rolls his head from side to side, feeling his neck crack, and Taehyung just stares at him open-mouthed and confused, completely and utterly lost.

"Okay," Jungkook begins, ignoring his pounding heart, his tingly hands and weak legs, "We're out here because I don't want there to be an audience when you knock me out cold."

After the initial confusion, something dark passes over Taehyung's features, and Jungkook gulps as he watches Taehyung suddenly bring himself up to stand taller, to regard Jungkook with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Taehyung asks, tone heavy and threatening.

"Who's the guy, who's the guy?" Jungkook chants, clapping his hands as he paces to and fro, feeling a bit manic, trying to expel the anxiety that's creeping up on him. He stops pacing, and his breath is leaving him in shaky, billowing puffs as he stands in front of Taehyung, lips pulled tightly together, fists balled up by his sides, "Who do you think it is, Tae?"

"Why are you being so fucking cryptic? You're scaring me. It's not Jimin, is it?" Even entertaining the thought of Jungkook sleeping with his boyfriend makes something dark and terrifying swirl in Taehyung's eyes. He clenches his jaw as he stares at Jungkook, fire blazing brightly in his dark depths.

"I'm not a fucking asshole, Tae," Jungkook defends, actually feeling quite hurt by the fact that Taehyung even considered him capable of hurting him like that. "You do know him, though. He's dear to you," Jungkook's panic is reaching insurmountable heights. He's done an awful job at doing this properly, and he's managed to get Taehyung all revved up and ready for whatever shit he's about to throw his way. Whatever happens, he's ready to start swinging.

"Fuck off," Taehyung gasps suddenly, stumbling backwards, wild eyes searching Jungkook's face, "No, fuck off."

"Nothing's happened," Jungkook insists, and he's pretty sure that his heart just decided that that's enough, no more beating today.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taehyung snaps, "Hoseok? My fucking dad, Jungkook? That's fucked. You're fucked."

"You don't need to worry, he doesn't want me, nothing's going to happen," Jungkook starts hurrying after Taehyung who stalks off in the opposite direction, face like a bull, posture closed-off and tight.

"Wait, you've confronted him about this?" Taehyung asks, head jerking around to face Jungkook, shock evident on his face, the fronts of his eyebrows upturned and their ends downturned, like he's trying to somehow sympathise with Jungkook and he just can't bring himself to. "What is it about him that you like? Ugh, fuck, don't answer that," Taehyung's lips pull into a tight line of disgust, and he stops when they're on a street corner, cars whirring past them, "This is why you've been moping around? Because you're sad that my dad won't fuck you?"

If the earth happened to fall away from beneath him, Jungkook would rejoice, maybe even do a dance as he fell through the its crust, "That's not how I'd word it, but..."

Taehyung starts walking again, clicking his tongue loudly as he strides along, leaving Jungkook to jog along after him.

"Of all the people who'd drop to their knees for you, you choose him," Taehyung turns again on Jungkook, faster than lightning, and Jungkook's scared for his life for just a second before Taehyung groans, face screwed up as he complains, "If anything happened, you'd be my step-father. That's fucking weird."

"The fact that you're envisioning me being your step-father is what’s weird," Jungkook shivers, the thought itself sending grimy discomfort through him.

They bicker all the way home, going from joking to arguing, shouting to whispering, and as Taehyung speeds up the driveway, Jungkook's heart sinks. He stops at the end of the driveway, watching emptily as Taehyung slams the front door shut. After seeing Hoseok's car sitting in the drive, he's not so sure he wants to go inside.

When he musters up enough energy to tiptoe into the house, it's eerily quiet. Taehyung hasn't bothered to wait up for him, the light that Hoseok usually leaves alight isn't on, and all he can hear is the soft whirring of appliances, the gentle roar of the heating system. He peers up at the stairs, and he feels like ascending them could result in more heartbreak. He decides to creep into the living room, to sit himself down on the sofa and pull one of the big fluffy blankets around himself.

He scrolls mindlessly through his phone, and it's a poor attempt at distracting himself, because he just scrolls, and scrolls, and scrolls.

The clock on the fireplace ticks as he stills, holding his breath so that he can listen to the movement upstairs, someone walking across floorboards.

It's not necessarily courage that sends him walking towards the stairs, rather cowardice.

He's weak-willed, tired, careless. He doesn't know what he expects to find as he steps up onto the landing, the hallway pitch-black save for the light peeking out from underneath the door at the end of the hallway; Hoseok's bedroom. He's in some sort of a daze as he walks towards it, feels it beckon him, and he doesn't even pause outside the door, there's no time for faffing about, there's no point in stalling anymore.

The hinges creak, the floorboards groan beneath him as he steps into the room, and Hoseok's tucked up in bed, propped up against the headboard. He slowly lowers the book that he's reading, pulling his glasses off to meet Jungkook with an unreadable expression. He closes the door quietly behind him, and wastes no time.

His coat falls from his shoulders to the floor, he stands at the foot of the bed, toeing off his shoes, and then, he's on the bed, crawling up, and Hoseok's book has been pushed aside, his glasses set on his bedside drawer.

He lies his front across Hoseok's legs, framing Hoseok's duvet-covered hips with his hands as he lowers himself down to rest his head in his lap, eyes fluttering closed the minute he sinks down into the downy softness. Hoseok's hands are on him instantly, stroking his nape softly, a finger caressing Jungkook's cheek, and it's all done so quietly, so smoothly, that Jungkook doesn't have time to flounder or panic.

Hoseok strokes Jungkook's hair, blunt fingernails scratching his scalp, and he asks in a sort of lovingly exasperated way, "What're we gonna do with you?"

Jungkook leaves the question unanswered, lets it hang in the air like a lonesome cloud. He doesn't want to open his mouth and make things worse than they already are. Hoseok seems content enough to let time pass in silence. He's comfortable, and tired, and Hoseok's petting lulls him in to a peaceful sleep.

Jungkook rarely dreams. When he does, he treasures his dreams, grabs for a notebook the second his eyes crack open, logging his sleepy adventures. He likes to keep his dreams logged, having a record of them is like having his own personal fairytale, a reality that he wishes he had.

That night, what Jungkook dreams of is bright stars, warm nights, comfort, and Hoseok.

When he wakes, he doesn't reach for his trusty notebook. There's a creak in his neck, and a sharp ache in his abdomen from where Hoseok's knees prodded all night. Neither have stirred from their positions. Hoseok's still slouched against the headboard, hand resting loosely on Jungkook's head, and Hoseok's lap is still Jungkook's soft pillow. He tries to fall back asleep, to experience this moment for just a few seconds longer, to relish in it, but the finger's in his hair stir, they grasp weakly at his strands, and a deep exhale sounds from above him.

Jungkook repositions himself, rolling over onto his back to blink blearily up at Hoseok's sleepy smile. "G'morning," he croaks down to Jungkook.

"Hi," Jungkook returns hoarsely, struggling to keep his eyes open, and they flutter closed when Hoseok ruffles his hair fondly.

"I should get up and get ready for the day," Hoseok sighs, and Jungkook averts his gaze to the ceiling, lips pulling into a pout before Hoseok continues, a softness in his words, "Having you here looking so soft and pristine is making it very difficult to stir." Jungkook's stomach swoops, and he hides his face in the duvet, groaning into it, afraid that his cheeks are startlingly crimson in colour. "You should change out of those clothes. As nice as this is, you reek of alcohol."

Belatedly, Jungkook realises that he's still in the outfit he wore last night, and then, it dawns on him. Him and Taehyung's conversation, how angry Taehyung was, how bad Jungkook was at properly presenting the situation. He pushes himself up off of Hoseok, grimacing as his joints click and clack. He stretches, a strained groan leaving him as he feels his muscles loosen. Looking at himself in the mirror on Hoseok's vanity, Jungkook pulls a face; at his blemishes, at the puffiness of sleep on his cheeks, at his dark eyes and wild hair, "I'm a mess."

He can hear Hoseok pottering around behind him, the soft pad of his feet across the floorboards, and then, he appears over Jungkook's shoulder in the mirror.

He reaches up to make even more of a mess of Jungkook's hair and he grins widely at him, laughing lightly when Jungkook bats his hands away. Whilst Jungkook tries desperately to tame his knots, Hoseok turns away, and Jungkook watches him in the mirror, eyes fixated on his figure as he tugs off his pyjama top, pulls on a big, cosy sweater, pulls off of his chequered bottoms to pull on a pair of torn blue jeans.

Jungkook's attention is still rapt on him when Hoseok catches his eye in the mirror, a small smirk teasing his lips when he comes up behind Jungkook.

It's weird. It's what he wants, sure, but to have Hoseok willingly wrap his arms around Jungkook's waist is weirder than you could possibly imagine.

Hooking his chin over Jungkook's shoulder, meeting his eye in the mirror, Hoseok softly chastises him, "It's rude to stare, Kook."

He's stiff in Hoseok's hold, unsure of how to relax, but he soon does when Hoseok gives him a squeeze, almost signalling for Jungkook to loosen up.

"I can't help it," Jungkook defends quietly, heart in his throat when Hoseok leans his cheek in against the crook of his shoulder.

"Do you stare at me a lot?" Hoseok inquires, but his tone suggests that he already knows the answer. He wants to hear Jungkook admit to his unabashed gawping.

"No," it's more defensive than anything, and he bites his tongue, casts his eyes downwards as he corrects himself, almost sulkily, "Yeah."

"Cute," Hoseok smirks, index finger prodding Jungkook lightly in the abdomen, "You're always doing it. Even in a room full of people, your eyes are on me."

There's a drop in his tone, and Jungkook's heart picks up, his teeth chew his lip as he nods, and he feels the vibrations of Hoseok's chuckle rumble against his back.

"What do you think about when you look at me, petal?"

"Nothing in particular." As he lies, words fly through his mind, blurred words on pieces of paper, thousands and thousands of pieces of paper filled with ink. He's built a whole narrative in his mind of him and Hoseok. He considers answering Hoseok truthfully, but thinks better of it, just for his embarrassment's sake. Hoseok pries, his eyes narrow skeptically at Jungkook in the mirror, teeth peeking out to tug lightly on his lower lip, and he cracks Jungkook in a record-breaking ten seconds.

"So, you look at me just to look at me?"

"No," Jungkook swallows, and he's sinking, he's not sure what he's sinking into, but he's fucking sinking, "Most of the time I think about kissing you," he pauses, wincing at his choice of words, at how childish they sound, "I imagine what it's like to be in your arms," he glances down at Hoseok's hands across his stomach, blinking at them, realising that a dream had become reality, and he feels triumphant. He breathes deeply, trying to control the tremor in his voice, trying not to give the impression that he's nervous, that he could easily give in to his overwhelming feeling of fear any minute now, "I-I just like to look at you. Everything about you is pleasing to the eye. If I could draw, I'd be able to draw you from memory... There's other things that I think about, but..."

He could say more, like how he sees a beam of love and warmth and everything beautiful shining from within Hoseok, but dizzying want has started to trundle its way up from his gut, making itself known in the form of an embarrassed, quiet whine.

He can't say it. With his pinked cheeks and bashful demeanour, Jungkook knows he'll just come across as some adorable lovesick teen.

Hoseok is unrelenting. "What are they, love?" he rasps, pressing the lightest of kisses just below Jungkook's ear, "Don't be scared. I won't judge."

This all feels like some cruel feverish dream. If Hoseok wasn't wrapped around him, he'd reach up and pinch himself.

Swallowing audibly, he watches Hoseok disappear from his vision as he mulls over his memories, over what he's stored for times when he's alone, hot and bothered.

"'You really wanna know?" he asks, tone high and dreamy, limbs loose and relaxed. Hoseok's kissing his neck, soft smacks echoing in Jungkook's ears as Hoseok hums in request against his skin. "There's so much," Jungkook whispers, "I think about your skin, about how it would taste. I think about your body, about how it would look in the moonlight. I think about how I'd-I'd touch you, and about how you'd touch me." His breath catches when he feels teeth scrape over his skin, "Oh, G-God, I imagine what it's like to finally have you."

"I've never let myself think about you," Hoseok confesses between soft kisses, "Unwelcome thoughts have come to mind, but I've always been quick to push them away."

Jungkook turns in Hoseok's arms, his heavy-lidded eyes looking down at him, his hands coming up to warily rest on Hoseok's cheeks.

"Give in to them," Jungkook encourages, and he wants Hoseok, the fire that's growing inside of him is at its height, its tendrils lick restlessly at the base of his spine; his chest is filled with longing.

"You're so young," Hoseok laments, and Jungkook withers, moaning in protest, scrunching his eyes shut when he can feel the same argument that Hoseok's used before coming.

"I'm old enough to know what I want," Jungkook insists boldly, tongue coming out to swipe over his bottom lip, "And what I want is for you to fuck me."

Hoseok doesn't react, and Jungkook doesn't really expect him to. What Jungkook wants is a given at this point, it's just the intricate details that are mysterious.

He's half-hard, and he's sure Hoseok can feel him. What he wants is for Hoseok to set aside his worries. He's not easy to crack, and Jungkook's working hard to smash him to smithereens. "What would happen if I do?" Hoseok asks, darkened look on his face, hands roaming up and down Jungkook's sides.

Even as he's denying Jungkook of what he wants, Hoseok has the gall to cup Jungkook through his slacks, and a shivered breath fans across Jungkook's lips when he does so.

Jungkook wants to buck into his hand, but he controls himself, he posits his own question, "Would it really be so wrong of you to give me what I've wanted for so long?"

"There'd be consequences," Hoseok breathes, fingertips running lightly along the outline of Jungkook's cock.

"Hoseok," Jungkook gasps, and he's out of it now, he's detached himself from the conversation he'd been trying to hang on to. Hoseok's thumb circles over the head of his leaking length and Jungkook's forehead leans lightly on Hoseok's shoulder as a gasp tears itself from his throat.

"Imagine what people will think of me," Hoseok speaks so evenly, with so much composure that Jungkook wonders if it's his own age that puts him into a cloudy haze, if it’s his youth that winds him up tight.

"Please," Jungkook implores, hands on Hoseok's waist, fingers digging into his sides as Hoseok squeezes his cock tightly. Desire pumps off of him like steam, "Just-Please, fuck me. Fuck me."

"This could be damaging to my character," Hoseok muses. At this point, he’s talking to himself, not minding the fact that Jungkook's steadfastly unravelling before him, "Some people will never be able to look at me the same way again."

"Shut up," Jungkook gasps, hips bucking, cock throbbing, head swimming, "Please, please, Hoseok." He sounds like he's near tears, and Hoseok snaps out of it, his hand stilling on Jungkook's crotch, his eyes finding Jungkook's big, doe eyes, blown-wide and chocolatey brown, pleading, begging.

"So demanding, baby," Hoseok lightly chides, voice feathery. He removes his hand from between them, slots their hips together, and Jungkook bites down painfully hard on his inner cheek to contain whatever choked sound just tried to burst out from the pit of his stomach. "You're already this hard, just for me?" he asks, tone filled with wonder and awe.

"A-all for you, always for you," Jungkook admits, and it's almost painful, how hard he is, how Hoseok's not helping by watching him so intently, by addressing him so smoothly. He’s basking in the attention, reeling over the fact that Hoseok’s sharp eyes are drinking in his descent into delectation.

Hoseok's head cocks to the side in an almost-mocking manner, and Jungkook curses, because he knows how pitiful this is, how desperate he looks, but he's waited for this for too long. He can't bring himself to fucking care about how pathetic he may be.

"What're you gonna do when I finally fuck you, petal?" Hoseok asks, lips pouting sympathetically, and he lines his cock up with Jungkook's. He rolls his hips slowly, dragging their cocks together and Jungkook watches with wide eyes as Hoseok breathes shakily, "Are you gonna be this wound-up when I've got you bent over, hm?"

Jungkook walks him backwards, waits for his knees to hit the bed and fall backwards onto it, and as soon as Hoseok's lying vertically, Jungkook climbs on top of him, takes what he's yearned for; he bites, nips, licks, and Hoseok arches up into him, groaning lowly in the back of his throat when Jungkook eagerly palms him through his jeans. Hoseok gently encourages him, rearranging his leg so that Jungkook can effectively rub himself against his thigh, and it's shameless. It's like he's a damn rabbit with an uncontrollable libido.

"You're gonna come like this, baby? You're that desperate?" there's a laugh hidden in Hoseok's tone.

"Yes," Jungkook whines, face hidden in the crook of Hoseok's shoulder as he rocks against Hoseok's small but tight thigh.

He's petting Jungkook, helping him through it, and when he comes undone, his whole body shakes, he muffles his moans in Hoseok's jumper, and the stars bursting behind his eyelids don't stop, they just keep shining and shining and shining, bursting and sparkling and exploding into an array of beautiful colours.

When he lies limp on top of Hoseok, essentially crushing him, Jungkook's breath comes in heavy gasps, and he hugs Hoseok close to him, wanting, for one reason or another, to just burst into tears. He can still feel Hoseok hard against him, and again he's reminded of how weak he is, how easily he can chase after his pleasure, how much more Hoseok needs to join him.

When Hoseok holds him close, Jungkook realises ashamedly that this is the second time that he's come in his pants over him.

This time, he can't seem to care about the ridiculousness of it all.

Hoseok's noticed the tension hanging between Taehyung and Jungkook, connecting the two via an invisible thread that pulses with perilous electricity, just waiting to be snapped.

He hasn't asked what's brought it about, and Jungkook doesn't have the heart to say that Taehyung knows about his not-so-secret little affinity. He's afraid of how Hoseok will react. Part of him thinks that he'd brush it off, talk to Taehyung and explain that this is okay, but the other part of him, the bigger part of him knows that it'll crush Hoseok, and possibly put an end to whatever it is that they have.

For that reason, Jungkook keeps his distance from Hoseok when Taehyung's around.

Jimin's over, sprawled on the sofa with Taehyung seated on the floor, flicking through a copy of Vogue that Jimin had brought him.

Hoseok's enlisted Jungkook for help with dinner. He's not much use in daily household tasks, but he's especially not much help when it comes to cooking.

"Don't cut it like that," Hoseok sighs, shoving Jungkook out of the way, plucking the knife from his loose grip. "Don't make the slices so thick. Make them nice and thin."

"What's wrong with a bit of chunkiness?" Jungkook asks, grinning from ear to ear when Hoseok shoots him a wilting look.

"It's nice once in a while," Hoseok admits, Jungkook watching him deftly chop the carrot into tiny slices, "Just not now."

Jimin's voice chimes from the sofa, "You've got a lot of work to do with Jungkookie, Hoseok. His elaborate dishes consist of ramen, pizza and pasta."

Taehyung tips his head back to shoot Jimin a look, "You're not much better. You almost set the house on fire trying to make a cup of chamomile tea."

"In my defense," Jimin raises his hand, "That kettle is a technological nightmare. How many fucking settings does a person need to boil water?"

"You're all awful," Hoseok sweeps in, chucking his chopped carrots into an awaiting pot, "Kids these days don't even know how to turn on a damn stove."

"Not me," Taehyung exclaims cheerfully, bounding into the kitchen like an excited puppy, sidling up next to Hoseok to take a look at what's on tonight's menu.

Hoseok shoves him away, "If it wasn't for me, you'd be just like Jimin and Jungkook."

Hoseok gestures to Jungkook who's standing to the side, arms behind his back, his smile falling when Taehyung regards him with a cold expression.

"Now that you're here," Hoseok shoves a bunch of scallions into Taehyung's chest, "Make yourself useful." Taehyung's eyes follow Hoseok, rolling them in annoyance, and he jolts when Hoseok barks, "I saw that."

Throwing the scallions down onto the chopping board, Taehyung shouts after him, "No you didn't!"

He turns back to his workstation, tossing a knife into the air and catching it expertly. Jungkook sees his life flash before his eyes as the steel glints beneath the light.

Jimin wanders in to watch the chef at work, and Jungkook stands awkwardly to the side, keeping out of Taehyung's warpath.

Jimin watches the two, deep-set frown between his brows, and when Taehyung continues to pointedly ignore the presence of Jungkook, he makes a humming noise.

"What the hell is going on between you two?"

"Trouble in paradise," Taehyung grumbles, his knife slicing through a piece of scallion loudly, and Jungkook winces, glancing at Jimin, silently begging for help.

Taehyung's an overall nice person. He'd drop everything if it meant helping someone in need, but when he's angry, it's like the devil himself has inhabited his bones.

"Ask him," Jungkook jerks his head towards Taehyung, who swings himself around to confront him squarely, "He's the one who's looked like he's been slapped anytime I'm mentioned."

"And for good reason," Taehyung snaps, holding his knife out to Jungkook threateningly, and that's when Jimin intervenes, stepping between the two. Taehyung has no choice but to lower the knife, and he tries to shoo Jimin away with a wave of his hand, "You shouldn't even be defending this Goddamn home-wrecker."

"Oh, come on," Jungkook laughs derisively, feeling suddenly bold with Jimin standing between them.

"I shouldn't even call you Jungkook anymore," Taehyung snickers, a tad crazily, and Jimin glances between the two, looking completely lost and out of his depth, "What'd suit you better? Asshole? Bastard? Oh, I know, I know," he raises the knife again, taking a step forward, and a small squeak chirps from Jimin when Taehyung hisses bitterly, "Daddy. How does that sound? You like that, right?"

He turns sharply, returning to chopping the living daylights out of the scallions, and Jimin stares at him, open-mouthed.

"I'm sorry," he turns around to look at Jungkook's pale face, "But, you've lost me more than I already was." Jungkook can see the cogs in his brain trying to work, trying to make sense of what Taehyung's just said, but he gives up, and he asks, cautiously, "Uh... You two... You're not, like, involved in some weird BDSM thing, are you?"

"No!" they both shout in unison, causing Jimin to jump out of fright.

"Then stop being so fucking mysterious! Daddy? What's that all about?"

"Y'know," Taehyung begins, finally setting his knife down, bracing his hands on the countertop as he gazes off into the distance pensively, "Sometimes, when I'm feeling extra frisky, I'll call Jimin, 'Daddy,' but Jungkook, the thing about that is that he isn't actually my fucking father."

"Taehyung," Jimin chokes, his eyebrows risen in horror, mortification striking him hard.

Jungkook's not bothered, he just lets Taehyung rip into him, because in hindsight, he deserves it.

"I never thought you were into that," Jungkook muses drily, "But, hey, each to their own."

"You're into it too, you freak!" Taehyung's beyond shouting now, he's roaring.

Jungkook tries to match the level of his voice, "I don't call him that!"

"Stop fucking shouting!" Jimin screams over the two, shooting them both fiery looks, grabbing Taehyung by his shirt and shoving him over to stand beside Jungkook. "I've never seen you two get into a lasting argument. This has come out of nowhere. Whatever it is that you two are acting like children over, you need to sort it out."

"I'm not speaking to him," Taehyung decides, arms folding tightly across himself, hands jammed into his armpits as Jungkook's stare bores into the side of his face.

Jimin stares at him, jaw visibly clenching before he asks, calmly, "Do you want me to lock you both in the bathroom and let you fight it out?"

"Baby," Taehyung quickly closes the distance between them, "No, I'll talk. I'm sorry." He kisses Jimin's nose, and if Jungkook wasn't mad at him, he might have cooed.

"If you could enlighten me, I'd greatly appreciate it," Jimin says when they're out in the garden, their teeth jittering as October comes to its chilling cessation.

Taehyung doesn't even miss a beat, just gets straight to the point, no sugarcoating, no dillydallying, "Jungkook wants to fuck Hoseok."

"Hoseok?" Jimin exclaims, mouth hanging open. "Jungkook?"

"I thought that Taehee and I would be getting a step-mother in the form of Hyemi," he gives Jungkook a fake smile, "Turns out we'll get a step-father. Who's younger than us."

"You're so dramatic," Jungkook shakes his head, and Taehyung's up in his face, shoving at his shoulders. Jimin comes to Jungkook's rescue, prying Taehyung's fingers off of his jumper. "If it ever came to that, I wouldn't want to be your damn step-father. I can only imagine the shit that Hoseok has to put up with from you on the regular."

"I'm a fantastic son," Taehyung replies angrily, fists bunching by his sides, looking ready to be put to use at any minute.

"I need a fucking drink," Jimin mumbles quietly, staring widely at the ground as he massages his temples.

"Unlike you, Kook, I've got a fucking dad. Maybe that's why you're slobbering over him, because you never had an influence like his in your life. I thought that, 'daddy issues,' was just a term that people hastily threw around, like it was some sort of excuse for questionable behaviour, but now? I believe it. The absence of your dad in your life has left you craving paternal love, and you're seeking that from Hoseok, but let me tell you, Kook," he gets up in Jungkook's face again, their chests almost bumping. Jimin's given up trying to contain the fray, "Hoseok's never going to give you what you crave. Find someone your own age to fuck some love into you."

It’s like Taehyung’s a dragon roaming the dark sky, and Jungkook’s a helpless villager whose house just got destroyed by his flames.

The anger that had been brewing inside of Jungkook doesn't explode. Instead, it simmers out into nothing, into a dull, miserable, empty hole.

"You've always had this underlying layer of sadness to you, and I've never understood why. It's not like you don't attract attention, it just wasn't the attention that you wanted, was it? You wanted a special kind of attention, a nurturing kind of love, not some quick fuck from a college kid that's off his face on coke or God knows what else. You decided to go after someone that was dangerous, because you hate getting things handed to you, because you need adventure, because your sad little fucking life is monotonous and repetitive, and to you, Hoseok can shake up that abysmal cycle. He's never going to go for you. Why would he?"

There's spit gathered at the corners of Taehyung's mouth, Jimin's arm is wrapped around his chest, trying to contain him like he’s a wild, rabid beast that just escaped from its enclosure.

Jungkook slowly wipes away the flecks of saliva that had struck him in the face, and he feels strangely empty. None of this is news to him. He never realised that he was that easy to read. Quietly, in his faraway state, all Jungkook can muster is a weak, "Yeah."

There's devastated horror on Jimin's face, and he releases Taehyung. He's staring widely at Jungkook.

"Tae," Jimin whispers warningly when Taehyung gives off the vibe that he's about to rip into Jungkook again.

With his pride thwarted, Jungkook realises that he's got nothing to lose, and he speaks with pride, which makes it hit home all the more harshly. "You're wrong," he says, and the blood in his ears hisses and pounds, so loud that it hurts, "You’re right about some things, but you're wrong about Hoseok."

"How so?" Taehyung asks, too calmly after his outburst.

Jungkook takes a step back, just as a safety precaution, just to give Jimin some time to grab Taehyung were he to lash out.

"He wants me," Jungkook shrugs, and it feels good to say, he feels an electric, all-encompassing energy shoot through him, "And there's nothing you can do about it."

"You're a liar," Taehyung spits angrily, rearing up again.

"Stop," Hoseok's tired voice drifts from the porch, and Taehyung's veneer is the first to fall.

He crumples as if he's a hot air balloon, falling into Jimin's waiting arms, ducking his head down to try and hide. Jungkook doesn't turn around to look at him, he can't bring himself to.

Jungkook’s bottom lip wobbles as he hears leaves crunch behind him, as he watches Jimin glance wildly between Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung, three figures that have been stripped apart and laid bare before him.

Everything goes blurry. He blinks quickly, willing away his unwelcome tears, and they want to spill from his eyes when Hoseok scoops him up into a tight, warm, loving hug.

His torn-off gasp gets muffled by Hoseok's scarf. He can't hide the fact that his body's shaking, that he's falling apart in front of the eyes of those he loves most.

"It's okay," Hoseok shushes, stroking Jungkook's hair, "Baby, it's okay. I'm sorry."

He shouldn't be sorry. Hoseok should never apologise to him for anything. With everything that he's unknowingly done for Jungkook, he can't possibly think that this is his fault, that what just transpired warrants an apology from him.

Taehyung hears him, lifting his head to stare blankly at Hoseok who holds their stare boldly, almost egging Taehyung on to speak again.

"Why are you apologising to him?" Taehyung asks defeatedly, gently pushing Jimin away from him by his hand on Jimin's chest.

Holding Jungkook close, Hoseok sighs, and Jungkook clings to him as he explains, "Everything that you just said to him was under the belt, T."

"You're fucking kidding me," a breath leaves Taehyung, like he was just kicked in the stomach, "It's true?" he stops to wave his hand at Jungkook and Hoseok, and there's distaste on his face when he finishes bitterly, decidedly, "He pulled you in."

"I pulled myself in," Hoseok corrects, and Taehyung turns to throw Jimin a look of disbelief, "I want him just as much as he wants me."

"Oh, gross," Taehyung makes a gagging noise, his hand coming up to wrap around his throat as his famous theatrics make an appearance.

"I've a right mind to tear you a fucking new one after what you said to him," Hoseok informs, and there's an edge to his voice, like he's trying hard to hold himself back, to not lash out at his own son who's, understandably, finding this hard to come to terms with, "I love you, and I know that this is the last thing that you imagined would happen."

"Yeah, no shit," Taehyung jeers, and Jungkook dares to peek his face out from Hoseok's chest, and Taehyung doesn't look as aflame as he'd looked. Hoseok's presence alone was enough to bring him down to a cool simmer, and for Jungkook, his presence negated the relevance of anything that Taehyung had just hurled his way.

"So, uh," Jimin speaks up from his awkward stance off to the side, hands deep in his pockets as Taehyung tugs him into his wing, "What happens now?"

Jungkook lifts his head, searching Hoseok's eyes as a smile stretches across Hoseok's face.

"Until the break ends, until you all go back to college, we try to live in harmony," Hoseok answers, bringing up his other arm to properly envelop Jungkook.

End. He'll be leaving soon. November's creeping up on them fast; the air's gotten colder, October has started to bite harder, the leaves no longer float through the air but lay still on the ground. Jungkook needs to check his e-mail for his new timetable. His stomach churns. He'd spent so much time fawning over Hoseok that he'd forgotten that he has to return to his own life. To him and Taehyung's dorm, to Yoongi and Namjoon, to nine-hour long days and even longer nights, papers strewn across his desk, his bed, his floor. He tries to slot Hoseok into his normal life, and in that particular moment, he struggles to. He's sure that Hoseok will soon find a place for himself in the monotony.

Harmony doesn't come quickly or easily.

The next day, Jungkook loses count of how many screaming matches Taehyung and Hoseok have, and he feels bad. Before everything that happened, he only ever saw Taehyung and Hoseok interact amicably, jocularly. He can't help but think that this new tension between the two is because of his newfound relation to Hoseok.

He's in the living room with Jimin, curled up with a book, one that Taehee had recommended, and he'd asked her to have a word with Taehyung.

With his ear pressed to the door, Jungkook had listened to her version of the story, relaying events to Taehyung that he wasn't around to experience. He listened to her opinion on him and Hoseok, and then, he'd listened with an aching heart when she'd whispered about how smitten Hoseok is. She knows how positively Jungkook effects Hoseok, and that trying to come between them will only cause heartbreak. Her explanation was eloquent and heart-warming.

Judging from his relative silence and mumbled noises of acquiescence, Jungkook likes to think that Taehyung's slowly starting to come around.

"Do you think it's weird?" comes Jimin's voice, tinged with curiosity as he peers at Jungkook over a cushion.

"Initially, I thought it was," Jungkook admits, thinking back to the early days when he'd forced himself to think of Hoseok in nothing but a pure, innocent light, "As time passed, and as the feelings got, y'know, stronger, I stopped caring. When I realised that Hoseok harboured similar feelings for me, I stopped caring completely."

He feels tingly and warm as he sees Jimin's adoring smile, a smile that he hopes, one day, Taehyung will direct towards him.

"Tae's getting there," Jimin assures sweetly, "There's less shouting, less angry whispers beneath his breath. His protectiveness over Hoseok is cute, but he can't afford to lose a friend as good as you over it." A sense of calm washes over Jungkook, and he nods in thanks to Jimin, "He can see a change in Hoseok, a good change, and he's trying not to equate it to your influence, but I think that he's starting to realise that he can't ignore reality anymore."

On the last night, when he's slotted comfortably between Hoseok's legs on the floor, chewing his lips as he inspects his cards, Jungkook whoops, jumping up when he realises.

"Uno! Uno, uno, uno!"

Hoseok dissolves into giggles when Jungkook flings his last card across the room, hitting Taehyung on the cheek.

Taehyung doesn't scowl or ignore Jungkook, instead his lips pull into a small grin when Hoseok stands to plant a congratulatory kiss onto Jungkook's cheek.

"I've won fuck-all this whole night," Jimin grumbles, chucking his cards onto the table, "Can we go out or something?"

"Don't be such a sore loser," Jungkook reprimands, grinning from ear to ear, still riding the excitement of his win.

"I'm up for a messy night," Taehyung jumps up, brushing the creases out of his trousers as he saunters daintily over to Hoseok, "I say you treat us all."

Hoseok sputters a laugh.

Jungkook wraps his arms around Hoseok's shoulders, trapping him, pressing light kisses to the bone of his shoulder as Taehyung dances around them, trying to be as annoying as he can possibly be before Hoseok crumbles into agreement. "You don't want me to come out with you all. I'd be happy to enlist Taehyung as the one in charge of your allowance for the night," Hoseok suggests, and they all make differing noises of opposition.

Jungkook clicks his tongue loudly, "You're a part of the pack, now."

"What the cub said," Taehyung jerks a finger at Jungkook, "Daddy Lion, you've gotta roll with us cubs, now."

"Taehyung," Hoseok chokes, laughter bursting from him when Taehyung smiles proudly at him, unfazed.

"You're all fucking weirdos," Jimin mutters as he watches Hoseok push Jungkook away so he can drag Taehyung down into a crippling headlock.

It's Taehyung and Jimin who make use of Hoseok's bank account.

Jungkook catches Hoseok's withering expression when Taehyung plucks his card from his fingertips, waving it in his face before exclaiming, "Shots for you, and you, and you!" He points at strangers, and the strangers glare at him (though, some look excited), and Jimin quickly drags Taehyung back down into his seat, offering Hoseok an apologetic, sheepish smile before requesting four shots of whiskey.

Jungkook watches Hoseok throw his back before he chugs back his own, eyes trained on the way his Adam's apple bobs as the poison runs down his gullet.

When Hoseok's recovered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he blinks at Jungkook.

"These two are bad influences," Hoseok warns, whispering loudly, defeating the purpose of whispering, and Taehyung shoots him an affronted look, "Stay away from troublemakers."

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling and teeth big as Hoseok shimmies his way out of the hug that Taehyung's trying to pull him into.

"Tonight's a quiet night," Jimin points out, "You don't want to see the wilder ones."

As the bar empties, Taehyung and Jimin forget the existence of Hoseok and Jungkook. They sneak off to an empty booth, and Hoseok doesn't ask what they're up to, just lets them slink away to do whatever it is that they're doing.

The flame of the candle between Hoseok and Jungkook tosses itself backwards and forwards, and Jungkook's attention is rapt on it, though he's painfully aware of Hoseok's steady gaze on him.

They're not on the same level as Taehyung and Jimin. Both had just thrown back the one whiskey shot. With the unsettling sensation that's been swirling around inside of him since he'd won his game of Uno, Jungkook's stomach has felt too uneasy to try and entertain the thought of copious amounts of alcohol.

"Are you okay?" Hoseok asks gently when Jungkook's wrapped up in his thoughts, and he chews his lips as he feels Hoseok's foot stroke against his ankle.

Meeting his soft gaze, Jungkook forces a weary smile that he hopes is reassuring, "I'm fine."

"You seem nervous," Hoseok points out, and Jungkook curses himself for his inability to mask his feelings, to correct his body language and emit false emotions.

Averting his gaze shyly, Jungkook nods his head slowly, "You make me nervous."

He can't ignore the expectations that he knows are coming, he can feel it in the air, in the way that Hoseok watches him, hell, in his own veins, it's there.

Hoseok reaches across the table, fingertips inching their way into Jungkook's bunched up fists, fingers interlocking Jungkook's.

"Baby," he breathes, eyes soft and torn, lips pulled tightly into a sympathetic smile, "Don't stress yourself out."

"I'm trying not to," Jungkook laughs, and it's brittle and anxious, not natural in the slightest.

"We should go," Hoseok suggests, already standing, not waiting for Jungkook's reply.

He gets pulled to his feet and guided towards Jimin and Taehyung's booth where Jimin quickly jumps away from Taehyung, eyes wide like he'd been caught in the act. Hoseok beams a smile down at him that could easily rival the sun itself, "Kook and I are gonna head home."

"Why?" Taehyung asks, a whine hanging onto his tone.

"Tae's staying in mine tonight," Jimin butts in, and his eyebrows are raised at Hoseok, quietly informing him of his scheme.

Taehyung's brows rise towards his hairline, "I am?"

Hoseok falters, surprised, "Oh. Okay. That's fine."

When Hoseok turns his back to glance at Jungkook, over his shoulder, Jungkook's tongue falls into the back of his throat when Jimin winks at him.

He's had this planned all along.

They say their goodbyes, and Hoseok puts his trust in Jimin when he hands Taehyung his card; it’s up to him to not let Taehyung milk his account dry.

They fall into a charged silence on the walk home with their fingers interlaced, their hearts thrumming wildly in their chests.

Jungkook takes his time unravelling himself from his scarf, pulling his gloves off with his teeth, and he's struggling to keep a level head. There's already electricity sparking in his veins, setting his nerve-endings alight, and he has to calmly give himself a pep talk, You've waited for this. You want this. Hoseok wants this. Hoseok wants you.

Hoseok heads for his bedroom, and Jungkook halts by his own door, chest rising and falling evenly as he waits for Hoseok to pause outside of his bedroom.

They stand awkwardly at their doors, Hoseok with his fingers on the door handle, Jungkook with his fidgeting nervously on the hem of his jumper.

Somehow, miraculously, Jungkook finds his quiet voice, "D-do you want to come to bed with me?"

Hoseok's hand falls from his door handle.

With the hope that he'd return with Hoseok in tow, Jungkook had the foresight to clean his room. There's a fresh set of sheets on his bed and his belongings are packed away into his backpack and suitcase, ready to be lugged away when the sun breaks. The polaroids on his wall are the last items that need to be packed.

Hoseok busies himself by looking at them, palms braced on the desk as he squints at the pictures. When he turns to roam his eyes over the empty room and its dark corners that seem just that bit darker tonight, Hoseok sighs, and there's a tinge of sadness to his voice when he says, "I'm gonna miss having you around, Kook."

Jungkook toes off his shoes, and he feels heavy underneath Hoseok's gaze as he does the same, kicking them aside before he closes the distance between them smoothly, taking Jungkook up into his arms, palms cupping his cheeks, thumbs stroking the apples of his cheeks, and Jungkook's eyes fall closed as a shuddered breath slips past his lips.

"Come and visit me," Jungkook requests, and Hoseok leaves a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Of course," Hoseok agrees, hands falling to Jungkook's hips, pulling him flush against him, so close that Jungkook swears he can feel the soft thud of Hoseok's heartbeat, "Of course I'll come and visit you, baby." His hand sneaks up Jungkook's jumper, cold fingertips even colder against Jungkook's burning skin, and Hoseok wastes no time. He mouths at Jungkook's jawline, humming lowly in the back of his throat when Jungkook breathlessly utters his name.

He runs his fingernails down the bumps and divots of Jungkook's abs before running them upwards, pulling Jungkook's jumper up and over his head, dipping down to kiss along his chest, his clavicles, and Jungkook's shaking like a leaf, feeling like he's sinking, and he knows what he's sinking into, now, he understands. Bliss. Pleasure. Lust. Maybe even love.

They're a mess of stumbling limbs as they make their way to the bed, and when Jungkook ungracefully falls back onto it, the sight of Hoseok sprawled across him, paying close attention to every infinitesimal detail of his body, Jungkook marvels over the sight, hoping that it'll etch itself into his memory forevermore.

Hoseok’s tongue circles around his nipple before his lips wrap lightly around the small nub, sucking, and Jungkook arches up into the sensation, softly groaning when Hoseok purrs darkly against his skin, "I'm gonna make you mine. Every last beautiful inch of you is gonna be mine, petal."

He's willing to give it all to him. His heart, his soul, his mind, his body, they're Hoseok's. They always will be Hoseok's.

He can feel the beads of sweat gathering on his brow as the pads of Hoseok's fingers cascade down over his ribs, bumping over each bone until they arrive at his hipbones. "This needs to be off," Hoseok husks, tugging lightly at the waistband of Jungkook's trousers, "I need to see you."

"Do it," Jungkook pleads, already lifting his hips as Hoseok works his button and zipper, "Take them off."

When they're tossed aside in a heap, Jungkook glances down at himself, at his clothed, hard cock, and even now, he has the audacity to flush pink and blink shyly at Hoseok.

Catching his shyness, Hoseok coos softly as he runs his palm excruciatingly slowly along the outline of his length, "So cute, baby. You're so chiseled and handsome, so aware of your good looks, but you still blush at the thought of me coming into contact with your beautiful cock." He emphasises his words by squeezing Jungkook's girth, earning from Jungkook a gasp. "You're so hard," Hoseok comments as he scoots himself downwards, laying across Jungkook's thighs, inspecting Jungkook's shielded dick closely.

He is, and he'd wish that Hoseok would just hurry up and satiate him already.

Like he'd heard his thoughts, like he lives somewhere in the dark recesses of Jungkook's mind, Hoseok bends down to run his tongue along the cotton, right up to the swollen tip that he sucks into his mouth, humming appreciatively when Jungkook bucks, moaning. There's a wet patch in Hoseok's wake as he returns back to teasing Jungkook with his hand, looking like he's enraptured by the sight of him.

"Off," Jungkook chokes, writhing, digging his heels into the duvet.

"Oh, baby boy, c'mon now, what do you say?" he asks in a sweet lilt, peering at Jungkook through his eyelashes, smirking when Jungkook whines in protest, "One word, one simple word and I can have your cock in my mouth in no time."

"Please," Jungkook gasps, almost crying out, raking his fingernails against his own scalp. Hoseok draws from him this sort of innocent sensuality that Jungkook never knew he had until he came along and awoke it. And oh is he glad that he did.

Hoseok smiles, wide and bright and like Jungkook had just divulged with him his deepest, darkest secret, "Good boy."

His cock's deeply red in colour, and it twitches as Hoseok eyes it, tongue coming out to lick across his bottom lip as he sizes Jungkook up.

It's hot. Searing, blinding heat. Hoseok's tongue lapping at his cock is like fire, and he's so thorough in his ministrations, paying close mind to what Jungkook likes (which, thus far, is everything). As he licks up one side of Jungkook’s throbbing length, he licks down the other, he mouths up along Jungkook's length, teasing him, pulling from Jungkook pitiful moans. He shows Jungkook some mercy when he sits up to remove his own shirt and trousers, and Jungkook's eyes rake over inches upon inches of beauty, drinking in the sight of one of heaven’s angels laid bare.

Golden skin that the sun loves, is perhaps even jealous of. Toned muscle that doesn't warrant much work. Imperfections that Jungkook has to squint to find.

After smiling a wide, blinding smile, Hoseok returns to his task, and after pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to the head of Jungkook's cock, Jungkook's sent into shivers.

Hoseok takes him down in a smooth swallow, only gagging slightly when Jungkook can't contain himself and bucks up into the wet heat. Jungkook gasps an apology when Hoseok pulls off, spluttering, replacing his mouth with the light touch of his fingers. "You're big, baby," Hoseok observes, "I'll fuck you tonight, but maybe sometime, you should fuck me."

The thought is too much to even consider right now.

Hoseok ignores his cock's cry for attention in the form of its throbbing, and when Jungkook sees it, pulsing behind cotton, his mouth runs dry.

Hoseok scoots down to pay much-deserved attention to Jungkook's built thighs, and Jungkook bites hard into the skin on his own wrist. He watches as kisses get peppered across them, lips tickling Jungkook's skin, and Jungkook tries desperately not to clamp his thighs around Hoseok's head when he sucks bruises into the soft skin of his sensitive inner thighs. He likes to be marked, to wake up the next morning and see remnants of the night before on his skin. Jungkook reminds himself to maybe snap some pictures of Hoseok's handiwork for later use.

When asked where he keeps the lube and condoms, Jungkook has to shyly admit that he's got lube, and that makes Hoseok's eyebrows wiggle, but that he hasn't got any condoms. He hasn't exactly needed them during his stay; Taehyung had drained his supply in the first week.

After fetching some from his own bedroom, Hoseok's already got the packet torn when he returns, foiled paper between his teeth, and Jungkook pushes himself onto his elbows, mild panic striking him when he realises that fuck, this is happening and fuck, he hasn't done this in a while.

Kneeling at the bottom of the bed, Hoseok frowns down at the packet, struggling with it, and Jungkook pipes up, quietly, "You've still got your underwear on."

Glancing down at himself, Hoseok blinks, "I do."

"You should-you should take them off. Now," Jungkook orders, and it's cute, how timidly he does so. Hoseok thinks so, too, as he cocks his head to the side and regards Jungkook with a soft gaze.

"How about you take them off me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. Hoseok takes Jungkook's position, and with trembling fingers, Jungkook pulls down Hoseok's underwear, the heat deep in his gut firing up when he sets his sights on Hoseok's thick cock. He's slightly smaller than Jungkook, but he's got more girth than he has.

Hoseok's fingers push Jungkook's hair up into wild directions as he lays a light lick along his cock, earning from Hoseok a low, rumbling groan. He lets Jungkook work as he wishes, and it's all Jungkook's ever wanted, to have his mouth filled with Hoseok's cock, to feel his throat scream and his eyes burn as Hoseok groans from above him in bliss. His jaw aches, there's wetness pooling behind his eyelids, and he's just about to break for air when Hoseok's smooth lilt travels down to him, "I think you can take a bit more of me, baby."

The fingers in his hair push, and Jungkook's hands on Hoseok's hips push back, and he chokes, gagging, pulling off, a web of saliva trailing from the reddened head of Hoseok's cock to Jungkook's chin. He gazes up at Hoseok through bleary eyes, chest heaving, and he wants more. He does it again; forces himself down, whimpering around Hoseok's cock when he feels he can take no more, and then Hoseok's gently pushing him down until the tip of his nose buries itself in wiry hair, bumping against Hoseok's lower abdomen.

"That's my boy," Hoseok drawls, a groan to his words, and Jungkook leans away to the side to cough mercilessly after he pulls off.

It's just like that night in the darkness of this same room, when he'd forbidden himself to touch, to feel the same pleasure that Hyemi had, only this time, Hoseok's sprawled out before him, skin glistening with sweat, eyes only for Jungkook. His.

After being ordered to kneel on the floor, Jungkook relaxes his throat as Hoseok fucks his mouth. His fingers dig into the flesh of Hoseok's ass and there's a strange tenderness to the way in which Hoseok speaks to him. Even now with Jungkook vulnerable and pliable, willing to bend to Hoseok's every wish, the sweetness never falls from Hoseok's words. He swipes his finger over the bulge of his cock in Jungkook's cheeks, and he whistles breathlessly, "You're beautiful like this, Kook."

Jungkook can only imagine what Hoseok means by, 'this.'

On his knees for him, docile, splotched red cheeks, saliva and cum drenching his chin, tears clinging to his eyelashes, eyes filled with an amalgamation of lust and worship.

Hoseok asks if he wants to prepare or himself or if he'd prefer Hoseok to do it.

His mind screams at him for Hoseok, but a darker part of him tells himself to do it, to let Hoseok sit back and watch him ready himself for his cock.

Hoseok sits back, hands folded in his lap, and this is the first time that Jungkook's seen any semblance of weakness in Hoseok. He gnaws his lower lip as he watches Jungkook tease at his entrance, his lubed finger bringing from him a gasp. As his first finger sinks in, Jungkook blinks lazily at Hoseok, jaw slack as his eyes fall to the twist of Hoseok's fist on his cock. He's why Hoseok's stroking himself, he's the reason why his breathing's laboured, why his eyes are heavy, why he looks as if he’s slipped into another world, one not as brutal as theirs, "Three fingers. You can take it, baby."

When his third finger is inside of him, Jungkook's a sweaty, writhing mess. It's a show and Hoseok's hooked. He's inched closer, his front lying on the bed as he watches intently as Jungkook fucks himself on his fingers. When Jungkook's fingers leave him, he feels empty and wet. He arches his back, nearly crying, "Yours. Need yours."

Hoseok's fingers are better than his, they fill him up better than his do, and when Hoseok's three fingers deep, bent over Jungkook, leaning his forehead against Jungkook's as he fucks his fingers in and out of him, they drink in each other's breaths, they share messy kisses, Hoseok's teeth burst Jungkook's bottom lip and they both taste copper on their tongues.

"Fuck me," Jungkook whimpers, pulling his thighs apart, thrashing his head to the side when Hoseok’s fingers sweep over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him.

He lays still as Hoseok disappears from over him, as lube drips out of him, and he feels lifeless, like his limbs have been filled with lead, and the grand finale has yet to even begin.

There's movement at the foot of the bed, Hoseok advances, and then, he lays right on top of Jungkook, pressing kisses to wherever he can, whispering sweet nothings. "If you wanna stop, we stop," Hoseok whispers, running his hand over Jungkook's thigh that's hooked around his waist. Jungkook rolls his hips softly, groaning quietly as their cocks come into contact intermittently.

"You're gonna have me," Jungkook whispers dreamily, eyes smiling when Hoseok tucks his head beneath Jungkook's chin.

With Hoseok laying on him, Jungkook's chest is tight, his breath heavy, but he can't bring himself to care; he wants Hoseok as close as he can possible be.

Hoseok distracts him with a slow, open-mouthed kiss as he reaches down between them to line himself up, the head of his cock brushing Jungkook's entrance, and he gasps into Hoseok's mouth as he enters, stretching him open, and it aches. He squeezes his eyes shut, digs his fingernails into Hoseok's back, tears his skin open as he drags his fingers down over the knobs of his vertebrae.

When he bottoms out, Jungkook's eyes widen, mouth open as Hoseok mouths at his chin, his bottom lip, groaning lowly as Jungkook experimentally circles his hips.

"Move," Jungkook begs, holding Hoseok tight, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow; even now, he's shy. When Hoseok begins to move, fucking him slowly, languidly, clarity fails Jungkook. His mind goes cloudy, all he thinks is Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

"Open those beautiful eyes for me, sweetheart," Hoseok drawls, fucking into Jungkook smoothly, "Let me see you."

As his whines grow needier, his cheeks burn brighter, his voice cracks as he cries, "God, you feel good, I need more."

Hoseok gives him more. He fucks him hard, their sweat-slick skin slides together, and Jungkook's toes curl as Hoseok's cock throbs inside of him as it slides in and out.

He goes limp beneath Hoseok, can only find the energy to choke out some cries of pleasure, some mangled words that probably don't make sense.

"My baby," Hoseok husks into his ear, breath hot, sending goosebumps blossoming across Jungkook's skin, "My beautiful, beautiful boy."

Jungkook’s toes curl. He reaches up to clasp Hoseok's face, eyes searching Hoseok's reddened cheeks, lips parted as he breathes in response, "My beautiful, beautiful Daddy."

It's a slip of the tongue, and he balks, his hands cover his face. He whimpers into his palms, digging his teeth into his own skin as he waits for Hoseok to stop, to pull out and never speak a word to him again. Only, it doesn't happen. Hoseok's pace quickens, he grunts on top of Jungkook as he fucks him, and then, he's coming. His whole body shivers, and Jungkook holds him through it. He pushes himself up off of Jungkook in the midst of his orgasm, lifting Jungkook's legs onto his shoulders, mouthing along his inner shin as he begs Jungkook to join him, and then, he does.

His cock bobs as Hoseok fucks him hard, and Jungkook throws his head back as he feels it wash over him, take him by his arms and legs and pull him under.

Cum spurts from his untouched cock, and Hoseok groans at the sight. Behind Jungkook's eyelids, colours burst in the darkness; blues, greens, yellows and reds, all neon and shining, all the prettiest Jungkook's ever seen them look. When Hoseok collapses onto him, tears pool in the corners of his eyes as he cradles Hoseok's head in his arms, muttering croaked, "Thank yous," twenty times over.

Danger really does serve to make fun that bit more exciting, that bit more enthralling.

To Yoongi and Namjoon, Hoseok is Taehyung's father.

He's not the guy who cooks Jungkook's favourite meals for him when he's feeling down, he's not the person who Jungkook falls asleep beside, who he tangles his limbs up with, he's not the owner of the name that Jungkook cries when he succumbs to unadulterated pleasure, he's not the voice on the other line that Jungkook sorrowfully says he misses every evening, he's not the person who Jungkook laughs with over jokes that no-one else understands, he’s not the person that Jungkook roused from sleep on the morning of his big exam with his lips wrapped around his cock and a twinkle in his eye.

He's not the person who Jungkook fell for in the bitterness of October, when life seemed as dull as the darkening sky.

When Taehyung's not around and it's just Jungkook and Hoseok lounging on the settee, when Yoongi and Namjoon stumble upon them, they glance at them before quickly averting their gazes. It's weird that they've got such a close bond when it's Taehyung who's Hoseok's son.

"They look at me weird," Hoseok grumbles when he's spread out on Jungkook's concrete-like dorm bed, tossing a ball of rubber bands into the air.

Jungkook swivels around in his desk chair, hand shooting out to catch the ball mid-toss, "Let them. They can't put their fingers on what's weird about us."

"They must ask themselves why Taehyung, a grown man, has got his father visiting him every three weeks in college," Hoseok sighs, and Jungkook stands.

Seating himself on Hoseok's thighs, Jungkook pats his belly, eyes downcast as he mumbles, "I don't care about them. You shouldn't care, either."

Hoseok's gaze softens. His finger rests beneath Jungkook's chin as he gently assures, "Baby, I don't."

"Sure seems like you do."

Jungkook gets pulled down into a tight embrace, and Hoseok's cologne floods his senses. His cologne's not like Jungkook's. Where his is rugged and harsh, its pungency heady, the lingering of perfume on Jungkook's skin is light and sweet; much like Jungkook himself.

"All I care about is you," Hoseok insists as he kisses Jungkook's forehead, "And Tae, and Taehee. If people are looking at Taehyung weird because of us, that's when I care."

"Fuck what people think," Jungkook announces, flinching when Hoseok's fingers lightly tickle at his armpits. After his giggles subside, Jungkook lays his head on Hoseok’s chest, “At the end of the day, it’s just you and I. There’s no Yoongi, there’s no Namjoon, there’s no Taehyung or Taehee. At the end of the day, it’s me loving you, kissing you, touching you. Not them.”

He kisses Hoseok’s nose, and feels a sudden tension in Hoseok’s body. He lifts himself so he can gaze down at Hoseok, and Hoseok’s looking at him funny. His lips quirk in amusement, and his hands on Jungkook’s hips squeeze his flesh, “What was that you just said, Kook?”

Jungkook’s brow furrows, and his face is as blank as a piece of newly printed paper until it dawns on him. It’s me loving you. Jungkook balks, “I didn’t say that.”

Hoseok grins, laughing breathlessly when Jungkook’s cheeks turn scarlet, “Sure you didn’t, petal.”

Before Hoseok leaves, when he's at Jungkook's door, admiring his posters that are peeling from the wood, the dread settles heavy on Jungkook's chest. Saying goodbye is always the hardest.

"I have something for you," Jungkook holds his finger up, signalling for Hoseok to wait.

He fetches it from his desk. Holding it between his fingertips, Jungkook stares down at it before he holds it out for Hoseok to take.

Hoseok blinks at it, and soon, a wide smile stretches across his face. He meets Jungkook's eyes, "You look beautiful."

At home, after Hoseok's kicked off his shoes, slung his tie on the back of his chair and dragged his tired body into bed, Hoseok brandishes the polaroid from his pocket.

In the glare of the camera, Jungkook grins that wide, toothy smile that Hoseok's grown to love. There's a youthful oblivion to its brightness.

His eyes are squeezed shut, crinkled and cute, and Hoseok's heart pangs as he rolls onto his side, staring at the boy who managed to steal his heart.

As drowsiness turns to exhaustion, Hoseok sets the polaroid on his bedside drawer.

He dreams of the boy with the sweet eyes, dazzling grin and beautiful heart.