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Jungkook’s dark messy nest for hair had grown past his eyes and that was as much of a nuisance as his friend’s abnormally soft blonde mane that never seemed to be out of place. Someone like Jimin—pretty, athletic, and oozing cheeky charm—surely could catch the attention of anyone easily.
Today he couldn’t give a damn.
Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend and often partner in everything, stood at the other side of the counter being completely and utterly useless. “What’s that supposed to be?” he asked with a lollipop popping from his lips in a show of what was one of his most known tricks for getting attention. Fortunately for Jungkook, he was long past being tempted by Jimin’s tricks unless he was desperate. Currently, he wasn’t desperate. He was obsessed.
“Christmas cookies!” Jungkook replied with a huff.
Jimin laughed. “What’d Santa do to you?”
“Get lost.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve been at this for weeks. What’s with the baking?”
Out of excuses, Jungkook growled. “It’s what he likes, okay.”
“Who?”
“Suga.”
Jimin eyes averted back to the lumps of dough on the pan. “I doubt sugar can salvage this, my friend. How about just buying some?”
“No, Suga. That’s his name.”
“Come again?”
“I doubt it’s his real name but that’s what he signs at the checkout desk.”
“What checkout desk?”
“At the library—where I work? Honestly, where do you think I go every afternoon?”
Jimin rolled his eyes but nodded in understanding, uncaring of Jungkook’s current struggle with the pink peppermint frosting he couldn’t quite get into the piping bag. Though it was definitely a struggle that did not quite hinder the vivid image of Suga cozied up right in his line of sight.
Suga dressed like he belonged in a bar past midnight, wearing dark clothes and a worn leather jacket under his coat. He had lighter hair than Jimin but with streaks of color that changed on almost every visit. Though on the smaller side, his eyes were observant, penetrating right through like an unavoidable force. The rest of his features were similar; a pretty rounded nose and jaw with heart-curved lips he usually bruised under a focused bite. Even his stature was smaller than his own. For all that, Suga had the aura of someone twice as intimidating. But his voice, his voice was velvet, thick warm velvet that wrapped around you like a sweet shield against the bitter cold.
“He comes in the evening every other day, after dark, and goes to the same bookshelf every time. I don’t know why he doesn’t just check out what he needs but he always leaves empty handed—except for the cookies on the Santa display,” he said with a smile.
“You’re gushing. Gross.”
“Shut up.”
“So, if there are already cookies, why are you making these lumps of coal?”
This time, Jungkook really blushed. He could feel the heat rush all the way up to his ears.
Jimin laughed again. “You haven’t. You have! You’ve been leaving him treats? That’s adorable.”
“Shut up.”
“Now, I’m intrigued. Tell me more!”
“No.”
“Kookie, please. I can help you.”
He should probably know better than to take advice from someone who inspired nothing but heartache for those who crossed him. But Christmas was fast approaching and the library would close for a full two weeks. He wasn’t sure he could survive it.
The next day, Jungkook showed up to work better dressed than most days, clad in pressed black jeans and an oversized blue turtleneck knit so soft it clung to his shoulders. His dark curls were styled and Jimin loaned him a few silver accessories to adorn his ears and fingers. Even his lips had a slight sheen of balm tint Jimin swore was essential. Regardless, he was ready. Today was the day to confess.
Maybe.
He wasn’t surprised to find the library quiet when he walked in. It often was quiet around this time. Most university students were already let out for the holidays. The only visitors now were locals, looking for a warm place to cozy up before fronting the cold again and never lingered longer than an hour. But Suga was different. He first came at the end of October, looking for the music section. After the third visit, Jungkook grew curious and caught him in that very same aisle he led him to, sprawled on the floor, surrounded by open books he never checked out.
“You know, we have study rooms you can take these into. It’s just as quiet and more comfortable,” he had suggested. Suga looked up, somewhat startled, and without a smile shook his head. Jungkook let him be.
Suga sat there for hours, stopping only to take one cookie from the holiday display as was polite, before going back upstairs for at least another hour. Once, during a phone call he should not have been there to hear, Jungkook heard Suga complain about being hungry and fantasizing about a whole tray of cookies. His love for sweets was confirmed when the Christmas display was put up sugar cookies and gingerbread. One look is all it took for Suga’s eyes to gleam and his lips to crack a smile that stuck an arrow through Jungkook’s heart.
Checking the time, Jungkook walked to the aisle, smiling when he saw the bookmarks sticking out of the books Suga was reading. Much like before he placed the cellophane bag with bitesize morsels over a Christmas card on that very same bookshelf. He never wrote much. Just the name of the cookie from the recipe and words of encouragement, not even bothering to sign his name. He had guessed Suga was a student struggling with a final project. Having graduated only the year before he understood the stress of showcasing your art of sorts. If his friends had not dragged him out of his constant trance and fed him, he would have probably collapsed from exhaustion.
On the second floor, the music aisles faced the checkout counter and the expanse of wall high windows with a view of the park outside. Suddenly, he understood Suga’s aversion to the study rooms which were holed up in the third floor, facing nothing but buildings. After rearranging a few books to their rightful place, he left the area only when he took note of the sun setting, knowing Suga would be arriving soon.
The first floor had mostly lounging areas, a few study tables and the magazine shelves. It was always easy to spot Suga when he came in. Given that he rarely saw him do anything but read, Jungkook rushed at the opportunity to welcome him.
Reaching the counter, nothing seemed amiss. It was raining outside and no one had come in other than the Quilting Club that met in the large conference room. Nothing except one thing. By the sign-in clipboard was a red and green gift bag, filled with a white sparkly tissue paper and a Christmas card envelope. Jungkook knew he probably should have read the card first but curiosity won before reason. Not bothering to remove the paper, he reached inside and pulled out a plain white cup with silver lettering.
“My cup of sugar,” he read out loud.
Only belatedly did he notice the small cellophane bag inside it with just that, powered sugar. Now more hastily, he reached for the card. Inside, with similar silver lettering was only a name. “Yoongi.” His excitement, out won his shock. In a matter of seconds, he was up the flight of stairs and walking back to the aisle he had left only moments ago.
There were no books on the floor or a certain somebody too focused to give him the light of the day. Instead, Suga stood reclined against the shelves, legs crossed and hands in his pockets, exposing his neck as he turned to Jungkook with a crooked smile.
“Hey,” he crooned.
Jungkook blinked, wondering if he was dreaming, silently watching as Suga reached for the cookies on the opposite shelf.
“Thank you.”
Baffled, he gawped. “How did you know it was me?”
<(@-__-@)>
Fate had a way of getting its way. At least, that’s what his friend Namjoon always liked to say. At the start of December, as Yoongi stared at the inconspicuous little bag of treats on the bookshelf he had spent the last five weeks scrutinizing, he was sure fate was catching up with him. Everything about it was discreet; the clear packaging, the white envelope, and even the cream-colored morsels seemed to blend in with the worn white oak shelves. Only his name—or rather his penname—was written in big bold purple lettering, matching the hue his hair had been the week before. For the coming weeks, this was the ongoing trend. Only the cookies changed. Some edible. Some not. Either way, he looked forward to finding them with each passing day.
It did not take a genius to figure it out. There was usually only one person manning the checkout desk after dark, and no one other than Namjoon associated his face with the penname he used. The way the boy welcomed him every day let him know, at least in that short moment, they connected; their eyes met and those few words they shared were undoubtedly sincere. Even before the boy’s overt attentions began, he was already crushing hard.
He didn’t have to be there. Yoongi could just as easily take the books and not be back for days on end. But the prospect of seeing him obliterated any sense of reason. Instead, he spent hours watching him from his perfect little spot on the second floor.
“Ask him out,” Namjoon had suggested early on. “You’ve been going for days. You’re lagging it, man.”
“Not yet.”
“Why? You waste hours in there. Those are hours we could use at the club.”
Yoongi’s brow quirked, “We play all night.”
“Jin needs bartenders.”
“You sure he doesn’t just need you?”
“Clever,” his friend said with a dismissive wave. “We could use the money.”
“I start giving lessons in two months, remember? I’ll get the money.”
Despite the almost certainty of their mutual interest, Yoongi wasn’t able to confess right away. Part of him still believed it wasn’t true. For sure, one of his greater flaws. As the days passed, he observed, growing more and more infatuated. Jungkook, as his name tag said, passed the day greeting people with a smile, helping them find what they needed as if it were a lost treasure in a sea of oblivion. But more often, Yoongi watched him sitting on a chair with a sketchpad on his lap, looking out the window behind him. Once, he could have sworn he saw his own face being drawn but he never got close enough to really know. He could never muster more than a few words, let alone an inquiry.
Then came the day everything changed. Another boy, pretty in all the right ways and with unmistakable flair came in. From his corner, he could see Jungkook smile wider than he ever had, and even laugh when the other twirled his way behind the counter. Yoongi couldn’t make out their words but the hot possessive energy that sprung in his gut was enough tell him all he needed to know.
It was time.
“How did you know it was me?” Jungkook asked him, looking like he had run a mile.
Yoongi felt himself grin but he didn’t answer. Instead, he took one of the cookies and offered it to Jungkook before taking one himself, allowing a moment for him to savor. “Oh good, you’ve finally discovered sugar. You’re getting better.”
“Sorry?”
“Last week’s butter cookies. They were more butter than cookie.”
“Oh,” then belatedly Jungkook repeated with more understanding and what appeared to be embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Jungkook bit his lip, blushing.
Unable to help himself, Yoongi walked up to him, close enough to feel warmth. “Can I kiss you now?”
What in his right mind compelled him to be so forward? He didn’t know. But what was done was done and all he could do was wait for a response that came faster than he expected.
Already parting his lips, Jungkook nodded, curving his body toward him. As his arms clung to his shoulders leading him down, Yoongi realized Jungkook was strong. No wonder he could run up those stairs faster than he could think. Jungkook’s body was hard with muscle. But his lips were plush and soft, sweet like the pink sugar dusted on his fingers.
“What a tasty treat,” Yoongi complimented without pulling away too far.
Jungkook moaned against him, quickly claiming his mouth again and slamming his body against the bookshelves.
They tried to be discreet, making sounds only the other could hear when their kiss refused to end. Then warm eager hands found bare skin just under Yoongi’s waistband and no amount of restraint could stop the vibrating sensation that pushed its way up past his mouth. His whole body shook and it was with annoying conscience that he found the will to move away.
“Hold on. How about a date first?” Yoongi asked, clearing the lump in his throat. “I know this great bar up the street. How ‘bout it?”
“A bar?”
“Yeah. You’re old enough, right?”
“Yeah but—are you?” Jungkook looked genuinely confused, full on pout and all.
Yoongi laughed. “I’ve been old enough for a while. But on second thought, potential students might be hanging out there. How about dinner instead? You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Good. A Christmas feast it is. Dessert first.”
“Christmas was days ago.”
“Not for me.”
“I’m not out for another couple hours.”
Yoongi clung to him again, teasing just over Jungkook’s lips before slowly leading up to his ear. “I can wait.”