Chapter Text
The porcelain lamp just barely missed Yoongi's head as it collided with the wall of the small, run down motel room with an ear splitting clash, shattering into a million tiny pieces and sprinkling onto the floor.
Yoongi, stood there, stunned because no fucking way did Jungkook just throw a lamp at him. A lamp. No fucking way. He gave him a place to stay when being at home was too much, food to eat when his fridge was empty, he was trying to save his life and this is how he was repaying him?
Slowly, he looked back to the shattered lamp, cringing slightly at how the powder blue pieces clashed with the red carpet and then slowly back to Jungkook, who's veins he could see popping out from across the room.
He was angry.
Yoongi was angrier.
"You fucking brat!" he shouted, rage and venom filling his voice as he charged Jungkook, slamming him against the wall and pressing his forearm to his throat, pushing down with just enough force that it was painful. Jungkook's face was reddening from the lack of oxygen but it stayed hard and cold. "I'm going to have to pay for that!"
"Good," he spat, kneeing Yoongi the side. He staggered, clutching his stomach trying to catch his breath . "Maybe then your sorry ass would be so busy working over time you won't have time to try to act like my fucking mom and make my decisions for me."
They were fighting again.
Somehow it always came back to this.
Just minutes ago, they were laying on the bed of Yoongi's motel room, limbs intertwined and wearing only underwear, breathless from having just fucked each other into next Thursday. Yoongi propped himself on the edge of the bed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the nightstand, flicking the pack open and snatching one out, placing it between his swollen, slightly bruised lips and lighting it with the swiftness of a seasoned professional. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lung capacity until he felt like his insides were burning before he finally exhaled.
"Fuck, Kook," he, turning to him with a wry grin. "When are you gonna let me top, huh?"
Jungkook chuckled, and slid out of the sheets to make his way over to Yoongi, wrapping his arms around his waist and positioning himself so his lips were level with his ear.
"Even if I let you, you wouldn't," he would respond with a cheeky smile and his lips brushing the shell of Yoongi's ear, causing him to shiver ever so slightly. "You're too much of a cockslut."
"Ass digger."
"Bottom bitch."
Yoongi smirked. He was an asshole, and he very well knew he was an asshole but one of the many things he loved about Jungkook was that it never phased him, and instead of getting upset and offended at his sharp tongue he simply gave it right back. It was odd, but Yoongi found it endearing. If that's what you could call it.
He took his cigarette in hand and placed it between Jungkook's lips, his fingers just barely brushing against them. The latter looked at Yoongi with hooded eyes as he hollowed his cheeks and inhaled, and Yoongi would try not to think of how pretty that sinful mouth of his would look wrapped around his dick. Jungkook exhaled directly in his face as he always did, and he breathed in Jungkook's second hand smoke, letting it fill his lungs before taking the cigarette out and extinguishing it in the ashtray. His hand traveled up Jungkook's arm, lingering in the crook of his neck before tangling his hand in his brown hair and god Yoongi could look at him all day.
How did he get so lucky? How was he, Min Yoongi, high school dropout and general waste of space lucky enough to be so in love with someone so gorgeous that it made his chest physically ache, and have that person love him back just as hard. Yoongi didn't deserve Jungkook, and he knew he didn't, and yet here he was, staring at him like he was his sun and his moon and his stars and the only thing in this goddamn universe that held any meaning. It was unfathomable, really.
"Has anyone ever told you you're sort of beautiful?" he asked, words thin from his breathlessness.
"Once or twice," Jungkook teased.
Yoongi gently pushed him down back down on the bed, moving to straddle him.
"That's a shame," he said, hovering over him, and then suddenly bringing him into a messy, searing kiss that was all tongue and lip. Jungkook's mouth welcomed his tongue immediately, slightly biting down on it as he flipped them over to remind Yoongi that he was still the one in charge. "You should be told you're beautiful everyday."
He'd push his hips up into Jungkook's, pulling a groan from the younger's throat in response as he gripped the sides of Yoongi's face almost painfully, kissing him with more fervor.
"Already ready for round two?" Jungkook asked cheekily.
"You did say I was a cockslut," Yoongi quipped back, pressing his wet, hot tongue into the vein in Jungkook's neck.
Jungkook was already breathless and they had barely started. He was breathing heavy, and Yoongi was taking full advantage of his as he kept licking and biting his neck mercilessly, making sure to leave bruises that he would have to find some way to explain to his parents-
He stilled. His parents.
His parents, who still didn't know he was in a relationship. His parents, who didn't know that person was 4 years older than him and he was still only 17.
His parents, who still didn't even know he was gay.
He had thought about telling them before, he had. He thought about telling them when his mom had went off on a tangent one day about how "fucking disgusting" the idea of being gay was to her simply to spite her. He thought about telling them all the times he had come home and found his dad passed out on the couch from one too many drinks with a porn magazine in his lap and his mom grumbling something in the corner of the kitchen to redirect her frustrations with his father onto him (for what, he wasn't sure, it wasn't like it would end in anything other than getting his ass kicked). He thought about telling them when they asked him when he was getting a girlfriend and how he'd never get one if he continued to spend all his time with his "good for nothing, shit talking" friends.
But he didn't.
And despite the fact that he already knew his parents wouldn't approve, he wanted to. For some odd reason.
He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even notice Yoongi had flipped their positions and he was now laying on his back. He also didn't notice that Yoongi had stopped kissing his neck and was now looking down at him, concern etching through his soft, angelic like features. He's so pretty and he doesn't even realize it, Jungkook thought briefly.
Yoongi crinkled his eyebrows. "You okay, Kookie?" he said affectionately, pushing his bangs out of his eyes
"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied.
"You're lying."
Damn it.
Jungkook sighed, resolved. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of the right way to say what was on his mind until he finally decided the only right way was to tell him bluntly. "I want to tell my parents."
It was Yoongi's turn to sigh as he pulled away from Jungkook and sat at the end of the bed, his back to him. "Kook," he started, all concern from a few seconds ago gone and replaced with mild annoyance. "We talked about this."
Jungkook followed him to the edge. "I know we talked about it but I can't do it anymore, Yoongi, I-" he stopped, gathering his words that were suddenly not coming to him, "I just, can't. I'm sick, okay? I'm sick of them being down my throat all the time about my relationships or having to listen to them talk about people like us like we're a plague and having no idea that their big old fag of a son is listening-"
"Don't call yourself that."
"But it's true." he said, his voice indignant as he began to put his clothes back on because he knew that if he hadn't killed the mood already he was sure to in the next few minutes. "And I'm not ashamed of it. And I'm sick of acting like I am ashamed of it. Like I'm ashamed of you."
Yoongi took a deep breath. "You should be ashamed of me."
Jungkook's mouth went dry as his words registered in his brain.
You should be ashamed of me.
He felt like he'd just been stabbed.
"How could you-"
"Look at me, Kook!" he yelled, jumping to his feet and turning to him. His eyes were begging, pleading for Jungkook to understand. He had to understand. "I'm pathetic! I work a dead end job as a pizza delivery boy that I'm probably going to be working for the rest of my goddamned life because I dicked around in high school, dropped out and now I can't get into university. I live in a broke down motel room because my parents kicked me out for making the very same mistake you're thinking about making."
Jungkook felt like Yoongi was looking at his entire life, with all of his secrets bared out for him to see with how intense his stare was and he felt a strong urge to turn away because he could no longer look him in the eye, but the elder had taken his jaw in his hands and was forcing him to look back at him.
Yoongi took a deep breath, but that didn't help alleviate any of the thickness of his next words. "This life," he started, his voice cracking, and he had to look away for a second before cursing under his breath and looking back at Jungkook, "This life, it's not good, Kook. And I want you to have more than this. You deserve more than this."
In the year that Jungkook had known Yoongi, he'd only ever see him cry once. The night his parents kicked him out, he cried, face bloodied and body beaten, he cried and cried and cried. That was a about two months ago, but he had never cried before. And he never cried again.
Until now.
He turned away quickly before Jungkook could see but he wasn't fast enough, and he saw anyway. He had only saw Yoongi cry once, but he knew he hated it. And he wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. He had to say something.
"You're not pathetic," he said as he stood to meet the older boy. "Yoongi, I know it seems like you're nothing but a disappointment to everybody. But you accomplished so much too." Jungkook reached for Yoongi's hand, and though he didn't turn to face him, he didn't fight the contact either.
Okay, good sign.
"Because despite everything you've been through, everything we've been through, you're still here. You're still surviving, and you're doing it all on your own. That's not pathetic, Yoongi."
Yoongi still hadn't turned to face him, but he was holding his hand noticeably tighter, so he kept going. "And besides, I don't care about all of that." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "As long as I have you, I don't care." He went to wrap his arms around Yoongi's waste, but the elder had coldly shook him off and walked to the other side of the room. Jungkook tried to act like that didn't slightly kill him.
"Well, you should," he said, all the thickness from his voice gone and back to it's usual gravelly texture. "You shouldn't care about me so much that you're willing to ruin your life."
"Yoongi."
Yoongi turned his head slightly, eyes cold.
"Yoongi," he said, a little more desperate this time. He didn't know what he wanted to say to him, but he needed him to understand where he was coming from. How could he explain that he would rather live on the streets free of expectations than in his home where he constantly felt like he was suffocating?
"Yoongi-"
"It's not worth it, Jungkook." he finally spoke again. "I'm not worth it."
And Jungkook couldn't quite explain what he felt at that moment. It felt a lot like anger, but not quite. Anger because Yoongi couldn't see just how strong and how much he really was, anger because he knew his parents would never accept him for who he was. Anger because nothing eever seemed to go right for him, right for them, anger because there was always, always something in the fucking way. And the way Yoongi was looking at him, so hard and cold and dead after saying such things, something in him snapped.
He didn't know how the lamp ended up in his hands but next thing he knew it was on the other side of the room shattered into little pieces behind where Yoongi stood, stunned into momentary silence before snapping out of it and charging him like a bull charging a matador.
And now here they were.
Yoongi was staring him down, as was Jungkook. Neither would budge, both of them stubborn hot heads with bad tempers and self destructive habits.
"Why?" Jungkook asked finally, still winded from being choked. "Why are you allowed to care about me but I'm not allowed to care about you?"
"Because I'm not worth caring about."
"That's bullshit!" Jungkook snapped. "You and all your stupid fucking self pity, and all of your stupid fucking, 'I don't deserve love' shit is shit, Yoongi!" He ran his hands through his hair and let out a loud frustrated sigh because what the honest fuck? He's looking at Yoongi standing there, straight faced and trying to keep his composure with his pretty, blemish free skin and feathery pink hair falling perfectly in his face and he just can't understand why he hates himself so much. "The fact that you're even alive right now, and doing better than probably anyone expected you to is proof that you're not worthless, and you could probably do so much more if you tried just a little bit harder. How can you say you're not worth caring about?!"
Yoongi looked down at the floor, shaking his head. He hesitated before speaking again. "It's times...like this..." he started slowly, choosing his words carefully, and the fact that he can remain so calm right now made Jungkook want to shake him, "that I remember how young you still are."
"Don't even-"
"You're blinded, Jungkook." Yoongi spoke over him. He didn't mean to, but he needed to get his point across. He needed to. "You're blinded by your love for me, and you can't see me for what I actually am."
"I see that despite everything you've been through you're still breathing."
"No, Kookie, no." He looked back up, staring Jungkook right in the eyes and schooled his features and his voice into the most serious expression and tone he could muster because Jungkook needs to understand this. "I know you want to believe that I'm strong for coming out of everything alive or whatever but that doesn't change the fact that everything that has ever gone wrong in my life is because I did it to myself. Don't you get it? I'm the one who did poorely in high school, I'm the one that decided it was a good idea to try to run away which led to my dad kicking the ever living crap out of me every chance he got. I'm the one..." his eyes flickered down for the briefest second. "I'm the one who thought acting on my feelings was a good idea."
Jungkook heard his gasp in his ears. No. Not there. Don't go there. Anywhere but there.
"And now I live here," Yoongi continued, as if he hadn't heard anything, "because my parents kicked me out. Because I'm gay."
Tears that Jungkook hadn't even realized had gathered in his eyes started falling down his cheeks. He couldn't speak, his throat too thick to form words, so he just stood there, staring in disbelief as the man he loved berated himself over something he had no control over, something he actually believed was his fault. His heart was ripping itself to shreds and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
"So please don't do anything for me, because I'm not worth it, Kookie. I swear to god, I'm not worth it."
Jungkook was getting that feeling again, the one that felt like anger but wasn't quite it. He had so much to say still, but was soon beginning to realize that it would only fall on deaf ears, and he wanted to cry all over again because he was also realizing that despite all of his efforts to fix him, he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to try again and again. He was still just a kid.
So many words to say, but he only said one.
"Fine," and began to walk towards the door.
"Where're you going?" he heard Yoongi's voice behind him.
He glanced back at Yoongi, who stood there confused and worried and he almost, almost closed the door and ran into his arms but he needed to do this. "You don't want me to care about you, so I won't."
And then he was gone. And Yoongi was left alone in his motel room with nothing but a half smoked cigarette and a broken lamp that probably looked a lot like his heart.
Somehow it always came back to this.