Ever since Jungkook had been old enough to hear and comprehend words, he’d been told about Soulmates. Probably before he was old enough, actually. His parents weren’t Soulmates, something about an accident involving his dad’s high school sweetheart, but it didn’t seem to matter to them, not in the least, and they told him stories, riveting news of famous couples finding their other halves. Jungkook had listened, with wide eyes and too-big ears, sitting in his mom’s lap, while his dad paced across the living room and spun tales of epic love, colorful and amazing. Even Jungkook’s older brother had sat cross legged on the carpeted floor and listened with rapt attention.
Ever since Jungkook could listen, he’d been watching. Watching the streets, the crowds, watching the people pour on and off the trains. Jungkook had watched for the flash of color that was said to indicate the instant when one found their Soulmate. Under normal circumstances, in everyday life, an aura would be invisible to the eye; but when two Soulmates found each other, it was said that they would see the color of each others’ auras. Jungkook spent his entire life with his eyes wide open, searching around him, waiting; watching and waiting. Jungkook became impressively good at observation.
By the time Jungkook was twenty, nearly twenty-one, he had almost given up. It was statistically proven that Soulmates were born at least in the same country, if not the same city. It wasn’t an exact science, not by a longshot. Sometimes, a person could be on their deathbed as their Soulmate was being brought into the world, surrounded by bright lights and nurses. And other times, as with his father’s case, someone’s Soulmate could be ripped from them with no warning. It was sad, and painful, but there were therapies, and love wasn’t only determined by whether or not your lover was born from the same chunk of stardust and angel’s blood. Not to mention, and it wasn’t unheard of, occasionally Soulmates just didn’t like each other as the people they were born as in that lifetime.
Soulmates weren’t always born to be lovers, either. Sometimes they were born to be the best of friends, or they were born as siblings. Sometimes a mother gave birth to her Soulmate. It was all chance, every bit of it, no matter what the statistics said. Jungkook knew this, he knew it very well. He’d gone through high school with no romantic attachments, just in case. He’d even gone through his first two years of university, dodging men and women both, uninterested in anything past a coffee date and a rushed hookup in a tiny dorm bed. Jungkook never stopped looking, though, attentive as always.
When Jungkook started his third year of college, he moved into a new dorm, with an actual bathroom and a roommate he didn’t hate. He didn’t hate him at all, in fact, and they spent not a few nights in each other’s bed. Jimin was sweet, when he wanted to be, infinitely mischievous, and beautiful. Jungkook loved him, in a way. Jimin was the first emotional connection he’d ever made, outside of his family and a few platonic friends.
But, and though Jungkook wasn’t bitter, Jimin found his Soulmate one night at a club downtown. Jimin went on and on about how beautiful Hoseok’s aura was, how bright it was, like molten lava or sunlight. Jungkook wasn’t bitter, or jealous, but he was lonely, once Jimin began spending more time with his boyfriend. Jungkook decided to date, for some reason, and it was on one of these date where things changed. For the better or worse, that was yet to be determined.
“Feel free to order anything you want, baby,” the man says, smiling at Jungkook over his glass of wine. Jungkook nods, smiling back. Maybe it’s a little… immoral to go on dates with older men (and sometimes women), because he knows that they all only have one thing in mind. Jungkook, though, he’s here for the free food and a chance to get out of the dorm for a few hours. This time, his date is a lawyer, or so he says, though Jungkook has no reason to doubt his word. He’s dressed in a nice suit, something dark. It’s hard to tell in the dim lights of the restaurant. Jungkook is only wearing light wash jeans and a loose, white button-down, the same outfit he always wears. It casual enough so that Jungkook doesn’t feel uncomfortable, but he looks good enough that he has his dates drooling before they’re even seated.
He and his date talk about inconsequential shit, just light conversation. Jungkook eats, and eats and eats, because the food is really good. The restaurant they’re at is less restuarant, more lounge, the lights dim, the atmosphere supposed to breed sexual tension. Jungkook is sure it works on his date, because the man hasn’t taken his eyes from Jungkook’s open collar, but to Jungkook, it’s okay. It’s nice and quiet, which he likes. The sign on the street, outside the expensive oak doors, had said there would be a pianist performing at nine, which is only a few minutes away, now. Something settles in Jungkook’s gut, something besides the lobster puffs, and Jungkook looks around the room, feeling restless.
“Would you like some wine?” Jungkook’s date asks, lifting the bottle. Jungkook smiles and hands over his glass. It’s a merlot, and Jungkook prefers sangria, but wine is wine and he’s tired of sipping his water. It’s like this place doesn’t know what soda or beer is.
There’s suddenly a subtle buzz that sweeps through the low tables and candlelight, and it brushes over Jungkook’s skin like a kiss. There’s a small platform in the back of the room, covered by a dark velvet curtain, and heads are turning, Jungkook’s included. He leans to the side, on the edge of his chair, to see around the broad form of his date, curiosity getting the best of him. The crowd falls hush, as the curtain begins to sinch to the side, and Jungkook’s jaw drops.
The first thing he notices is the color. It’s almost indescribable, but Jungkook finds himself, through the hum in his ears, trying anyway. It’s almost a lack of color, though. The aura is a pale blue, so pale it’s almost translucent. It’s vibrating, too, shifting around it’s owner in a way that Jungkook interprets as nervous. Then the man, who, as far as Jungkook can tell, is young and slim, begins to play, seated at a sleek, black baby grand.
Not only is the sound incredible, but Jungkook’s jaw drops because the aura that clings to the pianist’s skin bursts, expanding and changing color. The powdery blue deepens, glowing until it’s like water, glistening and flowing around the man. Jungkook finds himself staring, finds himself shaking a little. His date is speaking, but he doesn’t hear; he’s too busy being completely enamoured by his newly discovered Soulmate.
When the first song is done, the pianist turns his head to smile out at the small applause he’s receiving. Then his eyes fall on Jungkook, and his eyebrows rise as his mouth falls, and Jungkook momentarily wonders what color his own aura is. This thought is short lived, however, because Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little sick, which cannot be blamed on the lobster puffs, as anxiety bursts in his chest, and he stands. Then, even though he’s finally confronted with the one thing he’s kept his eyes open for his entire life, Jungkook chickens out and runs, exiting the restaurant so fast that he nearly knocks over a party of four coming through the foyer.
Jungkook has never been so embarrassed in his life. Which is saying alot, considering just who he is as a person. There he’d been, right in front of his Soulmate, for the first time… and he’d nearly pissed himself, then ran away.
He hadn’t run far, but… still.
Jungkook squats against the outside of the building, in the alley just around the corner, wiping a hand down his face. He feels dumb. Very, very dumb. Not only did he run out on his date, which is just rude, and Jungkook is a lot of things, but he’s not rude, he’d run out on his Soulmate. Jungkook groans, knocking his head against the smooth brick of the wall behind him.
Jungkook rolls his sleeves up against the balm of the late summer night, and waits for a little while, debating on what to do. He gives up on rectifying his date, considering he didn’t care about it all that much. He could go back in, though, sit at the bar, watch the performance. Or, he could wait till the end of the night and hope to catch his Soulmate when he left. Both options left Jungkook feeling a little bit like a stalker.
As it turns out, he isn’t the one who goes searching.
It’s only been about twenty minutes, but the door down the wall opens out into the silence, and blue fills Jungkook’s peripheral.
“I thought you’d be halfway across town by now,” a deep voice says. Jungkook turns to the man, and sees him smiling. Relief fills Jungkook. His Soulmate is smiling, at him, and doesn’t look the least bit offended that Jungkook ran, despite his words. Relief is abruptly replaced with shyness, though, because the beautiful man is just standing there, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, waiting for Jungkook to speak. He has grey, almost silver hair, which clashes dramatically with the darkness of his eyes and black dress shirt, but it makes his pale skin glow. His pretty pink lips are tugged to the side in a lazy grin, and his eyes are watching Jungkook curiously, even while the soft blue of his aura swirls, covering him like a second skin.
“Um,” Jungkook starts brilliantly, “Nope. I’m just… here.”
“I see,” the man laughs. Jungkook feels a little of the tension leave his body, at the sound, so he stands. He’s taller than the other, but he’s younger, he thinks.
“I’m Jungkook,” he says, remembering that, even though this man is his Soulmate, and they’ve probably spent countless lifetimes together in one way or another, he doesn’t know his name.
“Yoongi.” Jungkook smiles, repeating the name in his head. Yoongi. He likes it. It sounds familiar.
“You, uh… you play really well,” Jungkook stutters, because he can tell, by the way Yoongi is looking at him, he’s analyzing Jungkook’s aura. It makes his skin tingle.
“Thank you, Jungkook. Speaking of,” Yoongi jerks his head back to the door, “I have another hour to go. I see you’ve already had dinner, but... do you want to meet afterwards?”
“Yes,” Jungkook nods, maybe a little too hastily. Yoongi nods back, though.
“I’ll see you at ten-thirty, then.”
Then he’s gone, himself and the noble blue of his aura disappearing back inside the building. Jungkook sags against the wall, sighing. He’d met his Soulmate… finally. And Yoongi wanted to hangout. Jungkook smiles, pulling out his phone, as he settles to wait out the hour until Yoongi is done.
“You wanna get a drink?” Yoongi asks, then eyes Jungkook, squinting. “You are old enough to drink, right?” Jungkook had met Yoongi out front, just a few minutes after their agreed time, and had done a double take; gone was the black silk shirt and slacks, replaced by dark, ripped jeans and a dark hoodie. Jungkook thinks Yoongi looks even better, if that were even possible.
“Yes,” Jungkook snorts, “I’m twenty.” Yoongi gives him a sarcastic smile, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and they fall into step with each other as they make their way down the sidewalk.
They go to a convenience store, where Yoongi buys them both a beer. They sit on the cheap plastic chairs out front, talking and drinking, basking in the humid air while watching traffic on the highway.
Yoongi isn’t much of a talker, Jungkook discovers, which is okay, because neither is he. Still, they manage, asking questions and learning about each other. Jungkook tells Yoongi about his parents, his older brother. He tells Yoongi about school, adding that he’s in his third year and still has no idea what he’s majoring in, and he tells Yoongi about Jimin, about Hoseok. He tells Yoongi about his favorite video games, the kind of movies and music he likes. Yoongi listens, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, nodding his head every now and then to show that he’s listening.
Yoongi doesn’t only listen, though, he talks, too. He tells Jungkook, in his rough, accented voice, that he’s played piano since he was eight. He tells Jungkook about his parents, his own older brother, his hometown, and his best friend, Namjoon. Yoongi tells Jungkook that he graduated university a couple years ago, a music major, unsurprisingly, and he tells him how he writes his own music, performs at random bars and lounges around the city. He tells Jungkook about his first album, how it’s already sold a couple thousand copies, how it’s even on iTunes; his second album is halfway done, most of the music written, a couple songs recorded.
They talk and drink, and Jungkook, even through the buzz of his budding infatuation, can tell the moment Yoongi begins to get tired, because the his aura deepens to a hazy blue-grey. So, he offers Yoongi his number, and dies on the inside when Yoongi accepts it with a big, gummy smile.
“You live on campus?” Yoongi asks him, as they toss their empty cans in the recycling bin.
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, stretching. Yoongi eyes him, his expression hidden, but the glow in the elder’s aura has Jungkook flushing.
“It’s on the way to the subway. I’ll walk you home,” Yoongi says, and starts walking before Jungkook can hide his dumb smile.
They walk in comfortable silence, all the way to and across campus, to Jungkook’s building. He lives on the bottom floor, and when he mentions this, Yoongi shrugs and holds open the door, waiting for Jungkook. Jungkook isn’t sure what the elder has in mind, walking him all the way to his door. It makes him a little nervous, but he’s excited nonetheless. There’s a sharp, glittering edge to Yoongi’s aura, and Jungkook finds it enticing.
They walk down the fluorescent-lit halls, their footsteps muffled by the soft carpet, and Jungkook steels himself as they round the corner.
“Well, then,” Yoongi says lowly, amused. Jungkook just groans, because there, right against the door to his room, is Jimin and Hoseok. And they’re… busy. Jimin’s back is pressed against the door, Hoseok’s mouth on his neck, his hand literally, down Jimin’s pants. Jimin’s head is thrown back, his eyes closed as he gasps, his hands in Hoseok’s hair. Jungkook groans again, because how rude.
“Goddamnit, Jimin,” Jungkook says, loud enough to wake the entire floor. Yoongi actually cackles a little bit, as Jimin squeaks and Hoseok jerks away from the other, laughing nervously.
“Shit, Kookie, I thought you were inside,” Jimin laughs, breathless, running a hand through his tousled hair.
“Nope,” Jungkook replies, walking forward. He hears Yoongi follow, still laughing softly.
“Here I was, trying to save you from being traumatized, too.” Jimin winks, his eyes dark and lazy. Hoseok blushes, hiding behind his boyfriend.
“Like this shit doesn't happen every night, you perv,” Jungkook laughs. Jimin laughs too, shrugging, then he spots Yoongi.
“Oh, hello,” Jimin says, looking back and forth between Jungkook and Yoongi. “You’re cute.” Jungkook groans, for the third time in two minutes, but Hoseok comes to his rescue. He unlocks the door quickly, tugging a smirking Jimin in behind him, and slams the door.
“So, that’s Jimin, and, I’m really hoping, Hoseok?” Yoongi asks, leaning one shoulder against the wall. Jungkook nods apologetically, mentally plotting ways to kill off his friend.
“Yep. That’s him. I’d invite you in, but… I think he’s a little high, and a high Jimin isn’t totally opposed to sucking random dick, so…” Jungkook laughs a little, equal parts nervous and regretful.
“Oh, well at least he thinks I’m cute,” Yoongi shrugs, “that’ll make it easier on his conscious in the morning.” It takes Jungkook a moment, to realize that Yoongi is joking, then he laughs, loud and obnoxiously. He hears Hoseok fighting to keep Jimin away from the door on the other side of the wall, and he decides he better get Yoongi a safe distance away, before the entire building comes out to revolt against him and his roommate.
“So, um…,” Jungkook begins, shuffling from foot to foot, unsure just how to say goodnight to the man in front of him, whose aura is now downright shimmering.
“I’ll call you,” Yoongi laughs, pushing off from the wall.
“Okay,” Jungkook nods, unable to not smile.
“Probably not this weekend, though. My parents are visiting and I don’t really feel like explaining… this, to them... yet, so. Monday,” Yoongi nods, mostly to himself, “I’ll call you Monday.”
“Okay,” Jungkook repeats, and Yoongi gives a little wave, then turns to leave.
“Night, Jungkook,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Night, Yoongi,” Jungkook whispers, because Yoongi has already turned the corner. Jungkook counts to ten, then he turns back to his door. He braces himself for impact as he pushes it open.
“Where is he?” Jimin asks, from where he’s pinned under Hoseok in the middle of the floor. It seems that Hoseok had run out of ways to keep his boyfriend from fighting his way to the door, and had resorted to sitting on him, instead.
“He went home, you goddamn heathen,” Jungkook laughs, nodding his appreciation at Hoseok. The second Hoseok stands, Jimin is on Jungkook, asking questions; who was he? What’s his name? How old is he, is he a student? Was it a date? Jungkook just moves around the sitting room, attempting to kick off his shoes, despite koala-Jimin, and waits for him to finish.
“His name is Yoongi,” Jungkook says, when Jimin finally backs off to pout and cross his arms, “and he’s my Soulmate.” There’s a brief moment of silence, before Jimin yells and rushes over to hug Jungkook.
“You found him, you found him~” Jimin sings, dragging Jungkook around in a spinny-dance. Hoseok, completely giving up on containing the tornado that is his own Soulmate, just collapses on the couch and congratulates Jungkook. Jungkook giggles, despite himself, and lets his friend coax him into literally dancing for joy.
Monday would be exciting, this Jungkook doesn’t doubt.
Monday brings sunshine, heat, and a hangover. Playing a Mario Kart drinking game with Jimin had seemed like a good idea (Jungkook had never run over so many bananas in his life), but now, with a dull throb in the base of his skull and a sharp stabbing behind his eyes, Jungkook decides to never play Mario Kart again, drunk or not.
Still, Yoongi calls just after noon, mentioning coffee, and it’s enough to have Jungkook rolling out of bed and crossing the hall to the bathroom. He’s ready in twenty minutes, then out the door, checking the address Yoongi texts him. Thankfully, Jimin is still sleeping, or that would have been one hell of an obstacle to get through.
It’s the hottest part of the day, and although he’s dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, the sun and humid air is unforgiving. By the time he spots Yoongi, standing outside of the cafe, two iced coffees in hand, Jungkook is pretty damp himself.
“Who the fuck allowed this weather?” Yoongi growls, greeting Jungkook with a scowl and a coffee. Jungkook snorts and takes a sip of his coffee, appreciating the sight of Yoongi in front of him; the elder has his hair held out of his face by a backwards snapback, sunglasses on his nose, and his t-shirt is already sticking to his chest, the white material nearly see-through. He’s wearing ripped jeans again, but this pair is even more distressed, lighter in color. Yoongi’s aura looks annoyed, coiling close to his body, cloudy and turbulent, but still breathtakingly pretty. Jungkook’s chest tightens, because Yoongi is really, really attractive, but he tries to keep a hold on himself. He doesn’t even know if Yoongi is gay, much less interested in him as a lover. For all the romantic, thrilling stories Jungkook heard growing up, he’s also heard his fair share of horrors. So, he plays it cool. Or he tries.
“Let’s get out of the sun, then,” Jungkook proposes, “we can go to the park. There’s shade and oxygen there.”
“Sure,” Yoongi shrugs, and they head off.
They find an unoccupied picnic table easily, probably because they’re the only ones dumb enough to be out in the heat. Still, it’s cooler in the shade, and Yoongi hops up on the table, while Jungkook stands off to the side, feeling more than a little awkward. Yoongi drops his sunglasses beside him, still complaining about the heat. It makes Jungkook laugh.
“At least it’s a pretty day,” he says, scrunching his nose up at the elder. “It could be pouring rain, and hot and sticky.” Yoongi looks at him, then, one eyebrow raised, and Jungkook squirms under the weight of his stare.
“True,” he finally agrees, smiling a little. Jungkook, nearly floored by the sight, smiles back, and they continue talking.
After a while, Yoongi motions Jungkook over, to sit beside him, and the elder pulls out his phone and a pair of earbuds. He passes one to Jungkook, puts the other in his own ear, and begins to show Jungkook his favorite songs.
Jungkook should have been prepared for the way Yoongi’s aura changes, but he isn’t; he finds himself staring, only half listening to the music assaulting his ear.
Yoongi’s aura deepens, seems to turn into a sharp, sapphire electricity. It sparks along with the beat, pulses with the melody. Jungkook is entranced by it, and he’s still staring, open-mouthed, when Yoongi catches him.
“Yah, dude. You’re not even listening,” Yoongi groans, pinching Jungkook’s arm. The younger jerks, licking his lips and apologizing. Oops.
“It’s dancing,” he murmurs, unable to stop staring. Yoongi snorts.
“That’s weird,” he comments. Then, his eyes travel over Jungkook, and he cocks his head. “Yours is too… sorta. I guess.”
“What color is it?” Jungkook blurts, unable to hide his curiosity. Yoongi squints, biting his lip. Jungkook looks away from the sight.
“It’s… two-toned. I think. Sometimes it’s like, green,… but right now, it’s more of a grey… greeny-tan?” Yoongi shrugs.
“That’s more than two,” Jungkook laughs, his voice a little shaky from nerves. Yoongi is so close, and despite the heat, he smells good, like mint and fruit. Jungkook swallows, his eyes back on Yoongi’s lips.
“Yeah, well. I wasn’t an art major. That’s the best I can do,” Yoongi shrugs again.
The thing about Jungkook, is he’s never aware when he zones out, which is often. He’s observant, sure, but he’s also pretty spacy. Too much imagination, his teachers used to say. It made for plenty of detention in high school, and many an awkward moment on the train. But Yoongi is talking, and though he isn’t listening, Jungkook is watching. He’s watching the way Yoongi’s mouth curves, the way his lips push and pull the words as he talks. Jungkook gets lost in the sight, lost in the flash of pink as Yoongi’s tongue rolls over syllables. So, when he’s startled back into reality, jerking and blinking, when Yoongi flicks him on his nose, he flushes, embarrassed.
“W-what?” he asks in a futile attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t as spaced out as he was. Yoongi rolls his eyes, a small smile on his lips.
“I said, I’m glad you’re cute. My brother’s Soulmate is ass-fucking-ugly. She looks like a pug mated with a lizard. Just let that visual sink in,” Yoongi says, but Jungkook still isn’t listening. His brain had paused at “you’re cute”, his consciousness honing in on that single phrase. Then, Jungkook is leaning forward, his hand sliding up the curve of Yoongi’s sweat-dampened neck, so he can cup his face and pull the elder into a kiss.
The kiss is nice, sweet, but mainly short, because suddenly, Jungkook remembers he’s kissing a relative stranger, without permission, and he jerks back. The earbud pops out of his ear as he stands, putting distance between himself and Yoongi’s startled face.
“Oh, God- I’m sorry, Yoongi, I’m so, so sorry,” Jungkook groans, stumbling over his words. Yoongi is just staring, in shock, and Jungkook kicks himself, because he’s sure he’s fucked up any chance of even being friends with the guy.
Before his inner self-deprecation has a chance to cause too much damage, however, Yoongi is blinking, and the shocked expression slides away, only to be replaced with blank curiosity.
“C’mere,” Yoongi says, reaching towards Jungkook with one hand, “do that again.” Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to be shocked, but Yoongi motions impatiently, his aura cracking, and Jungkook hurries back over. Later, he’d probably chastise himself for not building up the kiss more, for not being more romantic. But now, in the heat of the moment, he just cups Yoongi’s face, this time with both hands, and crashes their lips together.
Yoongi is a little stiff beneath him, but Jungkook, forever determined, parts his lips, hoping to melt away Yoongi’s tension. It works, for the most part. Yoongi is still sitting on the table. He has to crane his head to reach, with Jungkook’s height, so Jungkook bows over, just a little bit, and tilts his head. At this angle, Jungkook is able to part the elder’s soft, plush lips with his own. He’s able to pull the tiniest, almost inconsequential, sigh of content from Yoongi, with his tongue swiping along the curve of Yoongi’s bottom lip. Jungkook coaxes the elder’s tongue out to meet his own, while he strokes at Yoongi’s cheekbones with his thumbs. Something restless begins to burn, deep down inside of Jungkook, as the elder yields, finally giving way to Jungkook’s mouth; only, Yoongi takes control, then, his lips and tongue getting a little more hungry, a little more desperate, and fire courses underneath Jungkook’s skin.
He remembers, though, that they’re in public, in the middle of the day, and he remembers that breathing is necessary for life, so he guides the kiss into safer territory. He kisses Yoongi with small, gentle presses of his lips, nothing more than butterfly kisses. Finally, Jungkook pulls away, breathing hard, and stares down at Yoongi, while the latter blinks into the bright sunlight. His lips are a little swollen, his cheeks a little pink, and Jungkook fights the urge to kiss him again. Yoongi meets his eyes, a shy smirk on his glossy lips, and clears his throat.
“So… that’s what it’s like to kiss a guy,” he says, and Jungkook stills.
Oh. Oh, shit.
“Oh,” Jungkook tries to say, but it comes out more like a croak. He clears his throat, backing away, and tries again. “I… should have asked if you were even gay, I’m sorry, I-”
“Jungkook, please stop walking away,” Yoongi laughs, and Jungkook realizes he’s put a ridiculous amount of space between the two of them. He takes a few steps back towards Yoongi, his face blazing.
“Sorry,-” Jungkook starts, but Yoongi waves his arm.
“Stop apologizing. Here, sit,” Yoongi says, patting the table beneath his ass. Jungkook hesitates, but when he notices the way Yoongi’s aura is paling, cowering, he rushes over, hiking himself onto the table.
“So… you’re not gay?” Jungkook asks, staring down at his hands.
“I wouldn’t call myself ‘gay’, no,” Yoongi muses, and Jungkook can feel the elder’s eyes on him. Yoongi pauses for a moment, humming. “But,” he draws the word out, “I wouldn’t really call myself ‘straight’ either.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods, “I’m not really gay. I mean... I don’t have a preference, for the record. Male or female, I’ve dated both.”
“I’ve dated a few girls,” Yoongi shares, sticking to the theme of the conversation, “but, I have to say, I really, really like gay porn.” Jungkook laughs then, in shock at the elder’s words. Yoongi chuckles too, still talking. “Your friends, the other night? They’d make great pornstars.”
“I’ll tell them you said that,” Jungkook snorts, still giggling. Yoongi shrugs, bumping his shoulder against Jungkook’s.
“I’ll tell them myself, next time I see them,” Yoongi says. ‘I still want to get to know you, maybe come over and hangout’, is what Jungkook hears.
“Please don’t, they’ll try to get you to join in, and let me tell you from experience, Jimin has a huge-”
“Okay, okay!” Yoongi laughs, shoving Jungkook hard enough to almost knock him from the table. “I might need a little time to work up to… that, though,” he says, but Jungkook has a feeling they’re no longer joking about a make believe threesome, so he nods.
“Okay,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I’ll let them know, then.” Yoongi’s returning smile is more dazzling than the warm cobalt of his aura.
Jungkook spends a good chunk of his free time over the following weeks with Yoongi. Jungkook spends his Friday nights on a different sort of date, sitting at the bar in the lounge where Yoongi plays every week. When Yoongi is done, they go to the same convenience store and sit outside, drinking beer. On Tuesday nights, Jungkook goes to another bar, a shabbier, more common establishment, and sits at a table in the back as Yoongi performs. They usually hang out for a couple hours at that same bar, on Tuesdays. Wednesday nights had always been movie nights with Jimin; and then, Jimin and Hoseok, and now, Jimin and Hoseok, with the addition of Yoongi.
On days where Jungkook only has one or two classes, Yoongi meets him after, and they go for lunch, go shopping, or just sit around campus and talk. Sometimes, Yoongi has Jungkook take him to the Fine Arts building, where they steal a room, and Yoongi plays the piano just for Jungkook. Jungkook never tires of watching the way Yoongi plays, watching the way Yoongi’s aura surges when he does anything involving music. It’s thrilling, and beautiful, and Jungkook itches to kiss Yoongi, like he had that first time.
But he doesn’t, and Yoongi doesn’t ask. Yoongi kisses him goodbye, though, just small, fleeting kisses, accompanied by warm fingertips dancing across skin. They’re enough for Jungkook, but sometimes, when they’re alone, the elder will lean over and press his lips to Jungkook’s in a way that hints at a deeper want, and those leave Jungkook breathless. Yoongi assures Jungkook, with words and without, that he finds Jungkook attractive, that he wants more, eventually, and Jungkook is willing to wait, forever if he has to. If Yoongi decided he just wanted to be friends, or, if he decided he wanted to be more, Jungkook would wait forever to find out, and he would respect Yoongi’s wishes.
The first time Yoongi comes over for mandatory movie night (after Jungkook made Jimin swear on his life that he’d be nice, but not too nice), Jungkook notices the way Yoongi eyes Jimin and Hoseok, the two of them curled up in the armchair. He notices the way Yoongi becomes aware of the space between himself and Jungkook, too, sitting a good three feet away from each other on the couch. He watches, trying not to be too obvious, the way Yoongi’s aura dims and brightens, showing indecisiveness. Finally, Yoongi’s aura glows, a moment before Yoongi scoots over, letting his head fall on Jungkook’s thigh. He gives it a moment, making sure Yoongi doesn't change his mind, before he lets his fingers smooth over Yoongi’s soft grey hair. The elder’s aura warms visibly, so Jungkook continues the action for the duration of the movie.
By the time the movie is over, Jimin is snoring softly against Hoseok’s neck, and Yoongi isn’t doing too much better. Hoseok gives Jungkook a sleepy smile, before he stands, his boyfriend in his arms, and makes his way to Jimin’s bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. Jungkook is in no hurry to get Yoongi out of the dorm to safety, because when Jimin falls asleep, he stays asleep, and they won’t have to worry about headboards slamming against walls or falsetto moans ringing through the room. Still, the elder’s aura has deepened to a blue so dark it’s like a shadow, and he’s yawning. Jungkook nudges him, whispering softly.
“Do you want to stay? I can sleep on the couch,” he says, smoothing Yoongi’s hair from his forehead. Yoongi looks like he wants to decline, but he nods, too tired to walk the half hour to his own apartment. Jungkook nudges the elder until he groans and sits up, then he takes his hand, tentatively. When Yoongi doesn’t pull away, Jungkook leads him to his room.
Jungkook’s room is nothing special. He has a full-sized bed, a desk, a dresser. There are clothes all over the floor, and Jungkook adds more when he knocks over the pile at the foot of his bed. He has pictures of his family on his dresser, next to his bluetooth speakers, plus a few pictures of his friends, his favorite bands, and movie posters tacked up. Yoongi reacts to none of this, as he stands in the center of the room, yawning. Jungkook smiles. He turns on the lamp, then searches through his dresser, finding a pair of shorts he can put on, plus a pair, and a t-shirt, for Yoongi. Yoongi takes them with a sleepy smile, then stands on his tip-toes, asking. Hiding his giggles, Jungkook leans down, giving Yoongi a soft peck.
“Goodnight,” Yoongi says, his voice low, gravelly. The sounds punches Jungkook in the gut, but he ignores it.
“Goodnight,” he echos. Jungkook shuts the door behind him, catching a glimpse of Yoongi unzipping and shrugging off his hoodie, before the door clicks closed. He quickly kicks off his jeans and slips on his shorts, then he grabs an extra blanket and pillow from their tiny linen closet.
Jungkook falls asleep, staring up at the ceiling fan, with a smile on his face, and plans to wake Yoongi up with breakfast in the morning.
As it turns out, though, Yoongi is the one to wake Jungkook, by plopping down on the couch, nearly on Jungkook’s legs.
“Nngh,” Jungkook says, by way of greeting. Yoongi gives him a moment to wake up, before he speaks.
“What time do you have class?” he asks, sounding so awake it’s almost annoying.
“What day is it?” Jungkook groans, blinking into the sunlight streaming across his face.
“Thursday,” Yoongi replies.
“Um… ten.” Jungkook lifts himself on his arms, sliding until he can sit up. He rubs his hands over his face, then tries to tame his hair, but ultimately fails. “What time is it?”
“Seven,” Yoongi says, smiling. He’s still in Jungkook clothes, the too-big t-shirt revealing a pale shoulder and collarbones. Yoongi’s hair is fluffy, sticking up on one side, but his aura is bright, clear. Jungkook closes his eyes, groaning at both the sight and the time.
“Wanna go get breakfast?” Yoongi asks, unperturbed by Jungkook’s annoyance.
“I was going to make breakfast. At a normal time,” Jungkook says through a yawn.
“Waffles?” Yoongi asks, a little too excitedly. Jungkook laughs, shaking his head.
“We don’t have a waffle maker,” Jungkook replies, tugging his pillow into his lap, because, wow, was his morning wood making an appearance this morning.
“Blasphemy,” Yoongi gasps, and Jungkook laughs again.
“I can make pancakes, though?” he offers. Yoongi seems to consider this for a moment, then he nods, frowning.
“Not the same, but… it’ll do,” he shrugs. Jungkook distracts Yoongi with small talk, though it’s far from insignificant when it’s with the elder, until it’s safe to move the pillow and stand.
The next movie night Yoongi attends, he comes with a waffle maker and his toothbrush.
The first time Jungkook goes to Yoongi’s apartment, it’s because he’s kicked himself out of his own dorm.
“They just… they. Wont. Stop,” Jungkook whines into the phone. He’s standing outside his building, in the humid air, his backpack hanging off one shoulder and his hair beginning to stick to his forehead. Hoseok had come over, and Jimin’s bed began hitting the wall… for the third time in four hours. So Jungkook had packed up his textbook and notebooks and left.
“Did you tell them you have a test tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook can hear amusement in his voice, as well as the TV in the background. At least it didn’t seem like Yoongi was too busy. It was nearly eleven PM, though.
“No, I didn’t know they could go at it for this long,” Jungkook grumbles, “and, I was listening to music, but then it started to distract me, and now I’m standing outside and the library is closed, and…” Jungkook trails off, sighing. He’s edging too close to a breakdown. On the phone with his sorta-but-not-quite boyfriend slash Soulmate. Great. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”
“I’ll come pick you up,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook hears a door shut on the other line. “Go back inside where it’s cool, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Jungkook agrees, hanging up the phone. He sighs, one more time, just to make himself feel better, then he heads back inside to sit on one of the chairs in the common area. Sure enough, just fifteen minutes later, Jungkook sees a little black car pull up and stop.
“I didn’t know you had a car,” Jungkook laughs, sliding into the passenger seat, after Yoongi had texted him, asking ‘are you just going to stare and let me sit here burning fuel?’.
“Yeah, well. I prefer to save my money and take the bus,” Yoongi shrugs. He waits until Jungkook has slid his backpack to the floorboard and buckled up, before he pulls away from the curb. “I don’t drive it much. Only when I visit my parents or I go out of town for a gig.”
“It’s always good to have one, though,” Jungkook says, leaning his head against the window. The city lights pass by, making him feel a little drowsy. Which isn’t good. He’s already tired, but he has so much studying to do… great. “It’s convenient.”
“You mean, it’s convenient when I need to go pick up my boyfriend because his roommate fucks like stamina is a natural resource?” Yoongi laughs, but it’s a nervous sound. Jungkook looks over, and even in the dim lights of the dash, the coalescing lights of the streetlamps passing by, Jungkook can see the blush on Yoongi’s cheeks. He can see the way his aura shivers, close to his skin, a bright, soft blue. Jungkook smiles.
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, reaching out to pat Yoongi’s thigh, “that’s exactly what I mean.” Yoongi blushes a little harder, and fiddles with the radio, but he doesn’t say anything. There’s a small smile on his face, though, and it stays for the rest of the drive.
Yoongi lives in an older, refurbished building downtown. It used to be part of a string of warehouses, or something, but now, the buildings are apartments. With two units to a building, Yoongi lives upstairs, so the only way to get inside is with the stairs on the outside of the building. Yoongi parks in his spot and gets out, waiting for Jungkook before he heads towards the stairs.
Yoongi’s loft apartment is small, but it’s efficient. And cozier than Jungkook would have imagined, but now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure why. Not considering what he knows about Yoongi.
“This is it,” Yoongi says, motioning around the main room, then he tosses his keys on a table by the shoe rack. There’s a small kitchen to the right of the front door, that takes up one wall, with a small island. To the right, there’s a sitting room, a couch, a chair, an ottoman and a coffee table. There’s a TV mounted on the wall, a stereo system underneath. “The bathroom is through that door, and my bed and stuff is up on the loft,” Yoongi finishes. He puts his hands behind his back and stands to the side, allowing Jungkook to look around a bit.
The walls are brick and the floors are concrete, but Yoongi’s offset the industrial feel with plush blue rugs, white curtains that cover the tall, large windows, and an obscene amount of potted plants. Jungkook is curious about the bedroom, but he decides it’s probably inappropriate to ask at this point. Instead, he moves to the couch, dropping his bag on the floor.
“Want a beer?” Yoongi asks, heading for the fridge.
“I’m supposed to be studying,” Jungkook laughs.
“Tea it is,” Yoongi says. Jungkook nods and pulls out his notes, determined to get at least a little studying done. He thanks Yoongi for the mug of tea when he brings it, and Yoongi motions upstairs. “I’m gonna go upstairs and work for a bit. Just yell if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me study here,” Jungkook says, reaching for the elder’s hand. Yoongi smiles and takes his hand, squeezing it as he drops a kiss on Jungkook’s hair. Yoongi’s aura is a little deeper in color, though not quite as dark as it is when he’s tired. But, then he’s gone, climbing the stairs and disappearing. Jungkook turns back to his papers, and settles into at least memorize all he can about the molecular structure of cells.
An hour later, Yoongi comes back downstairs and sits next to Jungkook on the couch. After a minute, he takes Jungkook’s notes and starts quizzing him, starting with vocabulary. Jungkook is a little shocked at first, because Yoongi had changed into a long-sleeved t-shirt and shorts. His aura is calm, and still, though, which helps ease Jungkook’s own nerves, so Jungkook shifts on the couch so he can’t see the notes in Yoongi’s hands, and allows the elder to quiz him. Surprisingly, it helps, despite how much of a distraction Yoongi’s deep voice is.
By the time Jungkook is yawning, he hasn’t missed a single one of Yoongi’s questions, and the elder drops the notebook onto the table with a shrug, announcing that there’s nothing more he can do.
“You’ll do more than fine on your test,” Yoongi says, downing the rest of the tea in his own mug. “What time you gotta be at school?”
“One,” Jungkook says, stretching out his legs. His eyes are heavy, and his back kind of hurts from being hunched over for so long.
“I’ll give you a ride, then, tomorrow. But c’mon,” Yoongi says, standing, “it’s almost two, let’s get some sleep.”
“I’m okay here, if you have an extra pillow and blanket,” Jungkook says patting the back of the couch. Yoongi turns and looks down at him, his face unreadable. His aura, though, his aura is coiling, deepening. Jungkook isn’t sure what it means, until Yoongi speaks.
“Come to bed with me,” Yoongi says, his voice quiet and soft. He’s staring dead at Jungkook, though, so the younger can only nod and stand.
Jungkook follows Yoongi up the dark stairs, butterflies kicking up a storm in his belly, and takes in Yoongi’s ‘bedroom’. There’s definitely a bed, a pretty big one, with four plush pillows, and a thick burgundy comforter. One side of the wall is taken up by the bed, and the other, a desk, with two computer monitors, an electric keyboard and other musical equipment that Jungkook doesn’t have names for. There’s the same blue rug from downstairs, though, covering the wooden floors. There’s also a wardrobe against the other wall, an end table by the bed, but that’s it. It’s dim, up on the loft, no windows or anything. It’s … intimate.
“I don’t think I have anything that will fit your thighs,” Yoongi laughs, heading to the wardrobe, “but, I have an extra t-shirt you can put on.”
“Okay, thanks,” Jungkook nods. He takes the offered t-shirt, and looks around, a little dumbly. There’s nowhere to change. He looks at Yoongi, and his heart jumps in his chest. Yoongi’s eyes are lazy, curved. There’s a small smirk on his mouth, as he watches Jungkook.
“Can I…?” Yoongi asks, his aura flaring a little bit, as his eyes drop down to look at Jungkook’s clothed body. Jungkook nods, then, realizing what it is that Yoongi’s asking. He feels his face warm a little, but then he feels boldness swell in his chest. He pulls his t-shirt off, over his shoulders, and folds it in his hands. He can feel Yoongi’s eyes on him, though, so he makes a show of it, as he turns to put his folded shirt over the back of Yoongi’s spinny chair.
Jungkook runs a nervous hand over his chest, his soft abs. Then he catches a flash of blue, and he looks up at the elder; Yoongi’s eyes are on his body, roaming, and it makes Jungkook squirm, a little, but what really has him intrigued is the way Yoongi’s aura glitters. It looks three-dimensional, deepening into a dark cerulean, suggestive and… sensual.
Jungkook reaches for the button on his jeans, then, with one hand. Jungkook pauses, though. Yoongi is walking towards him, his eyes dark. When he reaches Jungkook, the elder stretches out one hand, shy and hesitant, letting his fingers ghost over the skin of Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook’s body warms, dangerously, need bubbling up deep in his core. He has a feeling his aura must be giving this away, because Yoongi’s hooded eyes are darting over his skin, watching, his lips parted a little bit. When Yoongi’s hands gently replace his own, on the waistband of his jeans, Jungkook has to bite his lip.
Yoongi looks up, then, his dark eyes asking for permission, which Jungkook grants with a swallow and a nod. Yoongi keeps his eyes on Jungkook’s as he pops open the button and pulls down the zipper, his knuckles brushing over Jungkook’s already half-hard erection. Yoongi knows, though, he felt it, the blush on his cheeks deepening. His aura, it flares playfully, shimmering in the dim light. The elder pushes Jungkook’s jeans down his hips, and they fall to the floor, pooling around his ankles; Jungkook kicks them off, and stands nearly naked before his Soulmate, in nothing but navy boxer-briefs and the light of his own aura.
“Shit,” Yoongi mutters, his eyes skimming over Jungkook’s body, from his shoulders to his thighs. “It’s…. It’s sparkling.”
“Yours, too,” Jungkook says, lifting one hand, sliding his fingers in the hair on the back of Yoongi’s hair. “It’s beautiful.”
“... so are you,” Yoongi says, a moment before he lifts his face to Jungkook’s and kisses him.
It’s a sweet kiss, sweet but persistent. Yoongi licks into Jungkook’s mouth as soon as Jungkook parts his lips, and he can’t help the rumble that escapes his chest at the taste of the elder. Yoongi’s lips tighten against his in a smile, but Yoongi’s hands… Yoongi’s hands are pressed flat against his abdomen, both hot and cold, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then his hands are moving, circling around Jungkook’s hips to his back, pulling him in closer, and Jungkook can’t help himself.
He tangles both hands in Yoongi’s hair and angles the kiss, kissing the elder hard and full of need. Yoongi moans, then, a small sound that Jungkook feels in his dick, and presses their chests together. Yoongi starts moving backwards, pulling Jungkook with him, his hands roaming Jungkook’s back. Jungkook walks them back, towards the bed, and when the back of Yoongi’s legs hit the edge, the elder breaks the kiss, panting.
“I don’t want…” he starts, his eyes wide and dark, his aura deep.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, Yoongi,” Jungkook murmurs, brushing Yoongi’s mussed hair from his forehead. Yoongi nods, smiling shyly, before he turns and climbs onto the bed, kicking the blanket away. He lays on his back, and Jungkook can see the thick outline of the elder’s hard-length through his shorts, and his own cock throbs in response. Still, Yoongi is reaching for him, so Jungkook kneels onto the bed, shuffling over till he’s hovering over the elder, then he leans down, returning his lips to Yoongi’s.
Jungkook kisses Yoongi, holding himself up on his arms, their legs tangled together, for what feels like the swiftest forever. Yoongi’s hands travel shyly over Jungkook’s skin, leaving trails of fire and ice, until Jungkook is quivering, panting into Yoongi’s mouth. The elder kisses back, with lips and tongue wet and insistent, then he pulls Jungkook closer; Jungkook lets himself fall, braced on his elbows on either side of Yoongi’s face, as he straddles one of Yoongi’s thighs, their chests brushing. They kiss and kiss, lazily at some points, desperately at others, until Yoongi is arching and gasping, asking for more with a whine of Jungkook’s name.
“You have to tell me what you want, love,” Jungkook says, kissing over the curve of Yoongi’s cheek. “I don’t want to go too far before you’re ready. Tell me what you want.”
“Touch… me,” Yoongi pants, his hands clutching at Jungkook’s back. “Shit… I’ve never been so hard in my life. I want… fuck, Jungkook, please.”
Jungkook untangles on hand from Yoongi’s hair, sliding it down Yoongi’s body, until he can brush his palm over the slippery material of the elder’s shorts. Yoongi is hard, and thick, straining against the material. Jungkook’s own cock weeps as he imagines it inside of him. Yoongi pulses under his hand, choking and pressing his head back against the mattress, as Jungkook palms him through his clothing, the material of the elder’s shorts allowing for an easy slide.
“Off,” Yoongi gasps, “take them off.” Jungkook chuckles, earning a nip to his shoulder from Yoongi, but he complies. He sits back until he can help Yoongi out of his shorts and boxers, till he’s bare from the waist down. Yoongi sits up, pulling his own shirt off, before he collapses back on the bed, panting. Yoongi is naked beneath him, flushed, his thick cock hard and dark, his aura writhing and metallic. Jungkook starts to shift forward, but Yoongi stops him with a hand on his belly.
“Too much?” Jungkook asks, sitting back, worry flaring in his gut. Yoongi shakes his head, grey hair flying.
“Yours… too,” Yoongi whispers, and Jungkook’s stomach tries to fall out of his ass.
Jungkook presses a kiss to Yoongi’s sternum, then moves, stepping off the bed. He slips out of his own boxers, kicking them to the side, then he moves back on the bed, straddling Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi stares at him with hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of Jungkook’s bare skin, his curved, hard cock… then he looks up at Jungkook, meeting his eyes, and smiles.
“I don’t totally hate this,” Yoongi giggles, breathless. Jungkook rolls his eyes, then he has an idea.
“You… don’t happen to have lube, do you?” he asks, and Yoongi just looks at him, his mouth pressed in a sarcastic line. “Right, dumb question,” Jungkook laughs.
“Wait… actually, I bought a pack of condoms a while back… I think it came with a couple of those little sample packets,” Yoongi says, blushing and pointing to his end table. Jungkook sits back and leans over, opening the drawer. He spots the nearly empty box of condoms, and lo and behold, when he turns the box upside down, two little packets of lube fall out. Jungkook grabs one and checks the expiration date in the dim light, then gives a whoop of victory.
“Perfect,” Jungkook smiles, warming up the packet between his palms. Yoongi watches him warily, unsure what Jungkook has in mind, but there’s trust in his eyes, and his aura is calm, even while it shimmers and swirls.
He opens the packet and squeezes out the clear liquid into his right palm, then tosses the empty packet to the floor. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment. He gasps, though, arching, when Jungkook wraps his lube covered hand around Yoongi’s thick, solid length.
“Fuck,” Yoongi gasps, his aura spiking out, metallic and electric blue. “Tighter.”
“My pleasure,” Jungkook jokes. He tightens his hold, just a bit, then leans forward to kiss the gasping elder.
Jungkook wastes no time, too impatient, too eager to get Yoongi off. He kisses him, mostly tongue tangled with tongue, while Yoongi’s nails clutch at his thighs. Jungkook torques his wrist on every upstroke, Yoongi’s precum mixing with the lube, and Yoongi whimpers, his thighs clenching and straining beneath Jungkook.
“I’m… Jungkook, you’re gonna make me cum,” Yoongi gasps, pulling away for air. Jungkook kisses away the perspiration on Yoongi’s hairline, down his neck, and hums.
“Mmhm,” Jungkook licks along Yoongi’s pulse. Yoongi whimpers, arching, attempting to thrust up to meet Jungkook’s hold. Jungkook widens his own thighs, allowing Yoongi to widen his and thrust, his movements erratic.
Then Yoongi is keening, his hands shooting up to grip Jungkook’s biceps. The elder buries his face against Jungkook’s neck, sucking on the skin and whimpering, as his cock throbs and pulses in Jungkook’s hand, hot cum spilling out over his knuckles. Jungkook moans at the feel, his own cock leaking while he milks Yoongi through his orgasm. Yoongi jerks and twitches beneath him, sighing as he relaxes into the bed. He hands Jungkook his discarded t-shirt, and Jungkook cleans his hand and Yoongi’s belly, chuckling at the languid look in Yoongi’s eye. Even the elder’s aura is languid, flowing lazily against his skin.
“Good?” Jungkook asks, pressing a gentle kiss to Yoongi’s slack lips. The elder nods vigorously, then smiles.
“Grab the other packet,” he says, his cracked voice shy.
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to. Grab the lube before I fall asleep,” Yoongi smacks Jungkook’s thigh, and the younger decides it’s better to listen than to argue.
Yoongi follows Jungkook’s example, rolling the foil packet between his palms to warm it up. He’s at too odd of an angle, though, to open it without spilling it, so Jungkook helps him open it and disperse the liquid on his palm. Yoongi comments on the odd texture, and Jungkook laughs, but then Yoongi’s fingers are tight around his cock, and he’s unable to do anything but moan. Yoongi is unsure, that much is obvious, but Jungkook coaxes him through it with nods and kisses.
“I could do a better job if I hadn’t cum first,” Yoongi laughs, but his self-consciousness shows through. “Now my entire body is jelly.”
“I’ll fuck your hand,” Jungkook says, wrapping his own fingers around Yoongi’s, “just hold- fuck, yes, like that.”
Yoongi watches Jungkook thrust into his hand, with hooded eyes and a dark aura, goading Jungkook on. Jungkook braces his palms on either side of the elder, rolling his hips, looking down between them to watch the way his cock slides in and out of Yoongi’s hold. The elder’s hand feels incredible, the callouses on his fingers catching on the head deliciously, his palm broad enough to milk Jungkook’s thickness. Yoongi shifts his thumb, too, so that it presses against the slit with every stroke, and white pops in the corners of Jungkook’s vision.
Yoongi coos at him, too, in a soft voice, begging Jungkook to cum, cum for him. Yoongi’s free hand explores, trailing over Jungkook’s damp skin, causing him to shiver. Jungkook’s breath comes hard and shaky, and he moans when Yoongi brushes his thumb experimentally over his nipple. Yoongi chuckles a little, then keeps exploring.
Jungkook curses, harshly, when Yoongi’s hand finds his balls; he elder squeezes, gently, tugging on the skin, and Jungkook’s head spins. He’s thrusting harder, sharper, sweat rolling down between his arched shoulder blades.
“Scoot up some, baby,” Yoongi mutters. Jungkook shifts his knees a bit, climbing a little higher on the elder’s hips, doing what Yoongi asks, his own hips still rolling. He’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it, his belly tightening as heat floods his limbs. Then Yoongi dips his middle finger into the generous amount of precum beading on the head of his cock.
The elder reaches between them, past Jungkook’s throbbing cock, past his tightening sac, to press his finger against Jungkook’s entrance. Jungkook squeezes his eyes closed, sobbing as his hips stutter. Yoongi doesn’t push his finger in; he only rubs the calloused pad over Jungkook’s hole, feeling, exploring. It’s more than enough.
Jungkook cums, Yoongi’s name spilling from his lips, his white-hot pleasure spilling over Yoongi’s hand and chest. Yoongi groans with him, massaging Jungkook through the waves, his hold blissfully tight. He helps Jungkook clean up, panting along with the younger, his aura almost glittering again.
After they’re both cleaned up, tucked back away in their boxers, Yoongi sends Jungkook downstairs for water. Jungkook barely makes it back up to the loft, his legs like marshmallows, but he does. He finds Yoongi curled under the blankets, his aura bright and calm, sated. It makes Jungkook smile. They take turns chugging from the bottle, then Yoongi scoots over to let Jungkook squeeze in under the blanket.
“Well,” Yoongi says, rolling over to face Jungkook, “that was intense.” Jungkook laughs, and it turns into a yawn.
“Yeah it was. Good-intense, right?”
“Yes,” Yoongi says, scooting over until his face his pressed against Jungkook’s neck. “Great-intense. The best-intense.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” Jungkook smiles, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead. He feels warm, light and happy. Not to mention incredibly sleepy.
“I think I’d be totally down to fuck you, next time,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook’s eyes snap open. He laughs, pulling Yoongi closer.
“Oh, good.” Yoongi is smiling at him, all gums and sleepy eyes, and Jungkook can’t help but to kiss him till they’re both gasping.
A few days later, Yoongi calls Jungkook while he’s at dinner. Jungkook has to run out of the dining hall before Jimin has a chance to snatch his phone, which results in him accidentally hanging up on the elder. He calls him back, though, sitting on the steps outside, breathless from hurdling Jimin’s chair.
“Rude ass kid,” Yoongi answers, and Jungkook laughs, apologizing.
“Blame Jimin. What’s up?”
“I, uh… I have to cancel our plans this weekend,” Yoongi says quietly, and concern rushes through Jungkook’s heart at the tone in the elder’s voice.
“Yeah, sure. Everything okay, Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, switching the phone to his other ear.
“Yeah, my brother decided to get married this weekend, of all weekends,” Yoongi tells him. Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief.
“Oh, shit, Yoongi. You scared me for a second, there. This is good though, right?”
“Not for the kids…,” Yoongi mutters, and Jungkook laughs, “But uh, I have to tell my parents. About… you. Us.”
“Oh, “Jungkook says, not sure what else he can say. He doesn’t quite understand. Yoongi sighs on the other line, and the silence stretches, but Jungkook waits. Suddenly, though, he understands. “Because I’m… not a girl.”
That one syllable, sounding broken and empty, breaks Jungkook’s heart. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says what he thinks Yoongi needs to hear.
“You don’t… have to tell them. I mean... ,” Jungkook pauses, reaching for the right words, “I mean, they don’t have to know about me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi huffs. “You’re my Soulmate. They’re Soulmates, they can’t deny me the same right to love as they have, whether you have a dick or not.” Jungkook almost laughs, because Yoongi sounds preciously indignant.
“I could shave my legs and put on a dress?” Jungkook offers. His plan works, a little, because Yoongi chuckles, though it’s a tired sound. Jungkook yearns to hug him.
“I’m not sure you could pull off feminine, babe,” Yoongi says. Jungkook agrees. “Look, I’ll deal with it. I’ll be gone till Monday, though, so I’ll see you then?”
“Yep,” Jungkook says. They tell each other goodbye and hang up, though Jungkook sits outside for a little longer. The blistering heat of the summer is finally giving way, as August looms to an end, and it’s almost pleasant in the dull light of dusk.
He isn’t upset at Yoongi, far from it. He understands, sort of; he had been there when his friends came out to their parents, had seen the tears and the fights. His parents were different, they were open and accepting. He wasn’t upset at Yoongi, no, but he was upset for Yoongi. He wanted to be there with him, for him. He wanted to be there to protect him, though he knew that was a silly notion, Yoongi needed no protection. Still. Jungkook knew he wouldn’t be able to think about anything other than Yoongi this weekend.
Jungkook is tugged from sleep, just a fraction, when his bedroom door opens and closes. He’d gone to bed early, after finishing a paper, with a pounding headache. His head feels better, but he groans, ready to kick Jimin for even coming into his room-
That definitely isn't Jimin’s voice.
Jungkook opens his eyes, blinking in the darkness, and the first thing he notices is stormy blue.
“Yeah, Hoseok let me in,” Yoongi whispers.
“Hoseok is here?” Jungkook blinks, trying to wake up. He shouldn’t have had those Tylenol PMs.
“Jimin apparently has food-poisoning,” Yoongi shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I tried calling, but-”
“Sorry, sorry. I forgot I put my phone on silent to study,” Jungkook rolls over, lifting up the blanket. “Here. I told Jimin he shouldn’t have eaten that day-old alfredo.” Yoongi nods, kicking off his jeans and sliding under the blanket, scooting back until his ass is nestled against Jungkook’s hips. Jungkook ignores his cock’s twitch of excitement.
Yoongi doesn’t speak, for a little while, so Jungkook keeps himself from falling back into oblivion by curling his fingers against the warm skin of the elder’s belly and hips. Yoongi’s aura is dim, dark; worried. Jungkook waits, though, trying to soothe the other, trying to be patient himself.
“I don’t want to go,” Yoongi finally says, his voice a little rough. Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, but Yoongi isn’t done. “I don’t want to go alone. I want you to go with me, this weekend. But I hate to ask that of you because I don’t know how my parents, my family, are going to react.”
“I’d love to go with you,” Jungkook says, jumping in before Yoongi has a chance to talk over him. “You’re not asking too much of me, Yoongi, I promise.”
“I just… don’t want anything bad to happen,” Yoongi says, pressing further back into Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook tightens his hold, kissing the elder’s shoulder. “But… if they meet you, they can see how great you are.”
“I’m your other half, love. They have to love me, I’m the missing part of your soul,” Jungkook laughs. Yoongi elbows him.
“I’m trying to compliment you, stop being gross,” Yoongi grumbles.
“Okay, fine, go back to complimenting me,” Jungkook says, nuzzling into the elder. Yoongi snorts and goes quiet.
Jungkook is almost completely back to sleep, almost fully submitted to the warmth of unconsciousness, when Yoongi shifts in his arms, rolling over to face him. Then, he feels lips on his throat, his clavicle, and he cracks an eye. Yoongi’s aura glows, bright and metallic, and Jungkook feels himself catch fire.
“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, letting Yoongi roll him over onto his back. Yoongi’s mouth is hot on his chest, his lips smooth around his nipple.
“Getting back at Jimin and Hoseok for you,” Yoongi says, his voice thick with arousal. “I want to try something.”
“Okay,” Jungkook laughs breathlessly, because Yoongi is palming his hardening cock through his boxers, and Jungkook can’t say no to that.
Yoongi disappears under the blanket, kissing his way down Jungkook abdomen, his tongue leaving a warm trail of moisture, and it doesn’t take long until Jungkook is gasping and hard under Yoongi.
It’s not until Yoongi’s heated breath is fanning over Jungkook’s throbbing length that he understands; Jungkook, groans, loud and audible, because holy shit. Yoongi is mouthing him gingerly through the fabric, and Jungkook is suddenly hot, too hot, burning with need.
“Are you hiding for a reason, or can I toss the blanket?” Jungkook gasps, tangling his hands in his own hair so he doesn’t push the elder too far. Yoongi throws the blanket off himself, breathing hard, his eyes blown and lips glossy. Jungkook just looks at him, because… holy shit.
Yoongi tugs Jungkook’s boxers down, just far enough that his length is free. Then Jungkook is arching as Yoongi wraps a hand around him.
“I’ve never…” Yoongi rasps, his aura flickering, “done this before.”
“By all means, please, do not let that stop you,” Jungkook gasps, smiling a little. “God, please, don’t stop.” Yoongi smiles back, then he licks his lips, looking down at Jungkook’s cock a few inches from his face.
Then, with Jungkook holding his breath, Yoongi parts his lips and wraps them around the tip, his tongue darting out to swipe at the slit, and Jungkook groans. He lets his head fall back against the pillow, using all his strength to keep his hips from jumping up and seeking more of the elder’s warm mouth.
Yoongi takes his time exploring (torturing) Jungkook’s cock, using his lips and tongue until the younger is biting his lip, his knuckle, writhing in his own preparation. As soon as Yoongi drops down, though, Jungkook’s cock bumping the back of his throat, Jungkook keens, unable to keep the sounds of his pleasure to himself.
Both Jungkook and Yoongi still, though, as they hear a door slam. Yoongi blinks up at Jungkook in surprise.
“Did… they just leave?” Jungkook giggles, his cock twitching despite the situation. Yoongi clambers off the bed and to the door, opening it just enough to peek out into the main room. Jungkook use this opportunity to kick his boxers all the way off, then Yoongi turns, laughing.
“Their shoes are gone,” the elder says, moving back to the bed. “Clearly, they can fuck all night with no regard for your sanity, but the moment you start getting some, they hightail the fuck out.”
“Assholes,” Jungkook mutters, but he doesn’t have the heart to be truly annoyed, not when Yoongi is pulling his shirt off and climbing back on the bed. “Kiss me.”
“I wasn’t done,” Yoongi laughs, but he leans over, kissing Jungkook deep, and the younger can taste himself. It makes his cock throb.
“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that, though,” Jungkook groans. Yoongi is wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping loosely, lazily, staring down at Jungkook with a pure, bright aura.
“Fair,” Yoongi says, then he cocks his head, “I want to try something else, anyway. Do you… have lube?” Jungkook nods, reaching over to his bedside table. He grabs the lube, and tosses it to Yoongi. Yoongi looks down at the clear bottle, for a moment, then he speaks again. “And… a condom?”
“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks. Yoongi nods, his eyes both bright and dark, so Jungkook reaches back into the drawer, retrieving a condom.
“Talk me through this,” Yoongi mutters, settling himself between Jungkook’s open thighs. “I mean, I get the basics, add lube, in-out, in-out, but…”
“It’s no different from sex with a girl,” Jungkook shrugs, “just needs a little more prep.”
“Oh, thanks, that helps so much,” Yoongi drones, rolling his eyes. His jaw sets into a determined line, though, so Jungkook just spreads his thighs, letting Yoongi take his time.
Yoongi starts by teasing Jungkook more, stroking his cock and rolling his balls in his palm, until Jungkook is growling, his thighs twitching. Then Yoongi uncaps the lube, pouring some on his fingers. He doesn’t think to warm it, though, but Jungkook manages to not react to the chilled feel, because Yoongi’s pushing the tip of one finger inside of him, and he looks so good while he does it. Yoongi’s tongue is peeking out, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration, and he looks so damn endearing that Jungkook has to bite back a smile.
Yoongi literally takes a year to stretch Jungkook until he can slide one finger in with no resistance. Then he carefully pulls out, adding more lube, and pushes in with two. Jungkook has no reaction save moaning, because Yoongi’s fingers are long and rough, and they feel amazing inside of him. Yoongi takes Jungkook’s encouragement, takes it for all it’s worth, and begins to thrust his fingers in earnest. Jungkook can tell, by the look on Yoongi’s face, with the way Yoongi’s fingers are curling, that he’s searching, trying to find that spot that will have Jungkook melting.
“Up,” Jungkook says, spreading his legs further, coaxing the elder deeper, “just a little…ah, there, there!”
“Holy fuck,” Yoongi groans. Jungkook whines, his cock pulsing as precum beads at the head, rolling down his length. “Holy fuck.”
Jungkook laughs, then, though he doesn't know why; maybe it’s the way Yoongi beams, like he’s found the secret to the universe, or the way Yoongi’s aura dances, bold and metallic. Either way, he laughs because he’s happy, because Yoongi is there, and Yoongi is his.
“Another,” Jungkook gasps, “add another. Hurry.” Now, Yoongi laughs at Jungkook’s eagerness, but he listens.
Eventually (though Jungkook feels like it takes forever) Yoongi is three fingers deep, fucking Jungkook open while palming himself with his free hand. Jungkook’s own cock lays neglected, thick and swollen, precum coating his belly. Finally, Yoongi takes mercy, and Jungkook sobs as the elder pulls his fingers free. Yoongi steps off the bed and rips his boxers off, before sliding his hands over the bed, searching for the condom.
“Oh, no,” Yoongi laughs, a nervous lilt to his deep voice, “I’ve lost the condom. I can’t fuck you now, sorry, baby.”
“I have another,” Jungkook growls out, resisting the urge to stroke himself. He knows if he does, he’ll be blowing in no time, and he’s determined to wait until Yoongi’s cock is hard and deep inside of him.
“Oh… oh! Found it!” Yoongi announces holding up the foil packet. Jungkook gives a sarcastic applause, and Yoongi laughs, coming back to kneel between Jungkook’s thighs.
“Yoongi,” Jungkook whines, his hands gripping the elder’s thighs, “hurry.”
“Okay, okay. Brat,” Yoongi mutters, rolling the condom on. He lines up with Jungkook entrance, biting his lip, and pushes in, just a bit.
“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, his legs wrapping around Yoongi. “Just… ease in.” Yoongi does, painstakingly slow. He lets his cock fill Jungkook’s fluttering hole, the younger groaning, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated. He curses, stilling, and drops to his elbows, his forehead on Jungkook's shoulder.
“Tight,” he gasps, and Jungkook nods, smoothing his hands over Yoongi’s back, watching the way the elder’s aura reacts to his touch, twitching and swirling.
“I’ll loosen up, just gimme a sec,” Jungkook says, breathing hard.
Jungkook gives the OK, after a little while, and Yoongi pulls out, forever gentle, and pushes back in. They groan in sync, though Jungkook’s voice breaks halfway through, as Yoongi’s cock drags over his prostate. Yoongi’s thrusts are easy, smooth, leaving Jungkook breathless, moaning and arching. When he’s sure he won’t hurt him, though, Yoongi sits up, pushing one of Jungkook’s knees to the younger’s chest. He thrusts harder, harsher, pulling low, pitched moans from Jungkook, echoing the younger’s sounds with his own deep growls.
Jungkook arches, taking Yoongi in deeper, cursing with every drag of the elder’s cock. Every stroke sends Jungkook higher, has fire burning its way through his heart, his soul. Jungkook is so hard, so ridiculously, painfully hard, but he doesn’t touch himself, and he stops Yoongi from touching him, too.
“Wanna,” Jungkook gasps, his words broken with each smooth roll of Yoongi’s hips, “wanna cum from just your cock.”
“Shit, baby,” Yoongi growls. He bends Jungkook nearly in half then, and fucks him, hard. Jungkook sobs, keening, as Yoongi abuses his prostate, slamming into it every time he thrusts. He’s almost gone for, almost ready to spill all over himself.
“Close,” he manages through gritted teeth, and Yoongi grunts, his hips rolling relentlessly, beginning to stutter. Yoongi leans down, his mouth near Jungkook’s ear, his lips brushing over his jaw.
“Jungkookie,” Yoongi growls, his voice deep and strained, “cum for me, baby.”
Jungkook does. With Yoongi’s voice in his ear, Yoongi’s aura dancing with his, Jungkook cums, clamping down on Yoongi’s cock and shaking beneath the elder. Blue flames explode behind his closed eyes, course through his body, the heat pleasantly unbearable. He spills hot and hard over his belly, screaming so hard his voice breaks off into silence, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s shaky thighs. Yoongi cries out, too, shouting the arrival of his own orgasm, riding out his own pleasure with Jungkook’s convulsing walls, until they’re both quivering and shaking, breathing hard and a little giggly.
Yoongi pulls out with a sharp inhale, and ties off the condom with weak fingers, while Jungkook lays back and watches the elder, smiling and sated. Jungkook watches as Yoongi searches around for something to clean him up with, and directs him to the towel hanging on his closet door. When they’re both relatively clean, Yoongi falls back onto the bed, back into Jungkook’s embrace, and lets out a contented, shuddering sigh.
“Well,” Yoongi says, his voice raspy, “that was kinda awesome.”
“I dunno where you were for that, but it was a little more than ‘kinda awesome’,” Jungkook teases, his fingers stroking through the elder’s hair. Yoongi laughs, running his hand over Jungkook’s thigh.
“Yeah, it was.”
“So, what time are we leaving tomorrow?” Jungkook asks, yawning.
“I guess around noon, that way we can get to my parents’ in time for dinner. That’s what time they’ll be expecting… me,” Yoongi replies, shrugging. His aura is clear, dim and sleepy, but Jungkook can still sense the anxiety that rests beneath the surface.
“Sounds good,” Jungkook says, pulling the blanket up to cover them. “I’m excited.”
“Just wait til you see my brother’s fiance,” Yoongi laughs sleepily. “You’ll want to turn around and come home.”
“I’ll just keep my eyes on you, then.”
“Then my entire family will think you’re in love with me, or something,” Yoongi mutters. Jungkook shrugs, careful not to jostle Yoongi’s head resting on his shoulder.
“They wouldn’t be wrong,” he says, and Yoongi’s aura flares, lighting up the room.
“What?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head to look up at Jungkook.
“I’m in love with you. It’s okay, you don’t have to feel like you need to feel the same, or whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging again. “I know this is a lot of newness for you, so. I’m okay with you taking your time, or… whatever, if you need to.” Yoongi is silent for a moment, then he sits up, pressing his lips to Jungkook’s. Jungkook kisses his back, and it’s a tense, gentle kiss, full of unspoken words and sweetness.
“Thank you,” Yoongi whispers, laying back down. “Be the little spoon.”
“Yessir,” Jungkook laughs, rolling to the left. Yoongi presses up against him, warm skin against warm skin, and kisses Jungkook’s ear.
Yoongi is snoring softly in minutes, worn out and content. Jungkook feels the same, but he’s also filled with a bubbly excitement.
He’d been debating on the right time to tell Yoongi the extent of his feelings, but he hadn’t found the right time. He isn’t sure if what just happened had been the right time, but Yoongi hadn’t run screaming from the room, so he takes it as a good sign. Eventually, the warmth in his heart, and Yoongi’s breath against his neck, lulls him to sleep, sated, happy, and warm.
“You totally could have made that light, Yoongi,” Jungkook teases. They’re apparently less than five miles from Yoongi’s parent’s house, and Yoongi’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Jungkook has been trying, for hours, to ease the elder’s nerves, but so far, he hasn’t been able to pull more than a grunt or a tight-lipped smile from him.
“It was already red,” Yoongi says, leaning back and sighing. Jungkook had also offered to drive, to let the elder get some more sleep, but Yoongi had declined.
“If you say so,” Jungkook shrugs, reaching a hand out to squeeze Yoongi’s tense shoulder. “Relax. Everything is going to be fine, love.”
“I know,” Yoongi says, his hands back on the steering wheel as the light changes back to green.
The rest of the drive is silent, the city giving way to mountainous suburbia. Jungkook likes the air here; it’s clear and crisp, easier to breathe despite the heat. The sun is setting somewhere to their left, already behind the looming mountains, and the highway is empty, save for Yoongi’s little black car.
Jungkook had packed in haste, that morning, tossing a pair of slacks and a white silk button-up in his bag, along with something to sleep in, a couple t-shirts, and his toiletries. He’d worn his nicest pair of jeans, a long-sleeved, black and white striped shirt, and his black shoes. He’d forgotten to comb his hair, though, after his shower, so his hair is currently fluffy as hell. Yoongi had thought it was cute, though, so Jungkook didn’t bother trying to smooth it.
Yoongi is dressed the same as always, in ripped jeans, worn Converse and a t-shirt, apparently plagued by every nervous thought except the one involving visual representation. Yoongi’s family already knew him, though, while Jungkook is aiming for a good impression. Yoongi looks good, though, as always, and Jungkook struggles to keep his hands to himself, unsure of how he is supposed to act on this trip. He decides to let Yoongi set the tone, and he will follow his example.
They’re pulling off the highway onto a smaller road, passing lit-up houses with yards and minivans parked out front. They even pass a small neighborhood playground, were elementary school-aged children are running around and screaming, and Jungkook tries to imagine Yoongi as a child, playing on the same playground. They pass groups of older kids, too, in groups of two or three, sitting on benches and curbs. Jungkook tries to remember being a high schooler, and fails.
Finally, the car slows, Yoongi turns the wheel, and they’re pulling into a gravel drive, behind a few other vehicles, all nicer than Yoongi’s little shabby car. There are people gathered on the porch, about five of them, and Jungkook cranes his head, trying to pinpoint who is who. Yoongi heaves a great sigh, reaching over to grab Jungkook’s hand.
“My grandparents on my mom’s side live in the basement suite, and oh, look, my uncles are here. The fat one, he’s the one you need to watch out for,” Yoongi says, nodding towards the porch. “My other uncle is cool. He’s a musician, too. That’s his wife, and my dad and my brother... is walking over here, why is he walking over here? He can’t just wait for me to get out of the car like a normal fucking person?”
Yoongi lets go of Jungkook’s hand so he can reach into the backseat and grab his bag.
“We getting out?” Jungkook asks, and laughs when Yoongi rolls his eyes. Yoongi turns off the car and gets out, greeting his brother, so Jungkook follows, grabbing his own bag from the floorboard.
Yoongi’s brother is drunk, already, but he’s friendly enough. He pulls Jungkook into a sloppy hug not five seconds after he climbs out of the car. Then they’re being ushered up the steps of the porch, and it’s a whirlwind of greetings. Yoongi was right, his fat uncle sneers at Jungkook, but the other one and his wife both give Jungkook warm welcomes. Yoongi’s dad, too, though he’s stoic and his smile is reserved, not unlike his son’s. Yoongi only introduces Jungkook by name, though Jungkook thinks it’s better that way.
Yoongi leads him inside, introducing him to his mom, who looks like an older version of Yoongi, his brother’s fiance (holy fuck, Yoongi hadn’t been lying when he said she was ugly), and his grandparents, who all greet Jungkook politely.
“We staying in my old room or has it been commandeered?” Yoongi asks, once his mom is done pouting over his jeans. His mom waves him off towards the stairs, telling him they at least saved his room for him, though it would be a tight fit with Jungkook there. Yoongi leads him upstairs, nodding at his mom’s ‘dinner in fifteen minutes’, and they make a quick escape from the madness.
“Wow, Yoongi, you weren’t lying, oh my God,” Jungkook says, once Yoongi leads him into a dark room that smells like pine and dust. “She does look like a pug fucked a lizard.” Yoongi doesn’t speak; he drops his bag on the bed and turns on the light, then walks straight into Jungkook’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi groans, his arms coming around Jungkook’s middle. Jungkook holds him close, kicking the door shut behind him as he does so.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jungkook assures him, speaking into Yoongi’s hair. “It’s okay.”
“They’re a bunch of loons,” Yoongi says, his voice muffled against Jungkook’s shoulder. The younger shrugs.
“Well, at least it’s apparent where you get it from,” he says, then he swiftly dodges Yoongi’s pinching fingers.
Yoongi makes Jungkook hide out in his childhood room until they hear everyone else coming in from outside. The room is bare, the walls painted a gentle beige, except for a bed and a desk. There are pictures of Yoongi, as a child, on the shelve above the desk, and Jungkook thinks they’re hilarious, but he decides to wait until at least after dinner before teasing the elder. Yoongi’s mood isn’t quite right, just yet.
(Still, as they make their way back downstairs, Jungkook spots a photo of Yoongi and his brother in the tub as children, and Jungkook just has to bring that up later.)
Dinner is easy and casual, mainly because Yoongi’s drunk brother keeps reminding everyone that he’s getting married the next day, and it distracts everyone enough to keep their focus off Jungkook. Even so, it seems that Jungkook cannot escape Yoongi’s mother.
“You’re still in college, Jungkook?” his mom asks, and Jungkook nods, swallowing his mouthful of chicken quickly.
“Yes ma’am, my third year.”
“You’re almost done, then,” she says, nodding. “What are you going to do when you graduate?”
“I’m not totally sure yet,” Jungkook shrugs, “but I think I want to be a teacher. A science teacher, maybe, for an elementary school.”
“You like kids?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jungkook smiles, eyeing his chicken, waiting for Yoongi’s mom to be done before he shoves it in his mouth.
“Mom, let him eat,” Yoongi says around his own mouthful. She does, moving from Jungkook’s future plans to Yoongi’s music career. Jungkook knocks his knee against Yoongi’s, thanking him for sacrificing himself; judging from the way Yoongi and his mom talk, pride dripping from Yoongi’s tone, there’s a hard earned respect there, and Jungkook assumes it used to be a touchy subject.
The rest of dinner passes smoothly, which Jungkook can tell eases some of Yoongi’s tension. His aura is still restless and dark, brooding. Jungkook wants to reach out and smooth the creases of worry from Yoongi’s forehead, but he knows better. Jungkook is content to just sit by, as Yoongi’s new friend, but by the time everyone is full and tea is being passed around, Yoongi presses his thigh to Jungkook’s. When Jungkook looks over at him, his mug halfway to his mouth, Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him, a question. Jungkook, licking his lips, puts his mug down and nods. Jungkook sees that their exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi’s mother.
“Um,” Yoongi starts, raising his voice a little, “I have some good news.”
“Finally getting a real job?” the fat uncles asks, cackling, but he’s hushed by a sharp look from Yoongi’s dad. Yoongi’s mom puts a hand on his arm, encouraging him to continue.
“I don’t want this to over-shadow the wedding, so don’t think this is what that’s about,” Yoongi starts, looking at his mom, but she only smiles and shakes her head. Yoongi takes a deep breath, and looks at Jungkook, grabbing his hand under the table. Yoongi raises them, then, to rest on the table, for everyone to see.
“Oh,” his mom whispers. Yoongi nods.
“He’s my Soulmate,” Yoongi says into the tense silence, “and we’re… together.”
“Oh,” his mom repeats.
It’s quiet, for all of three seconds, then the fat uncle pipes up. Jungkook sees Yoongi’s aura flare dangerously, in anger, but he’s at a loss of what to do.
“What the hell you mean, ‘together’?” he asks, disgust in his voice. Before anyone else can speak, though, Yoongi’s mom is silencing him.
“It means my son,” she says, raising her own eyebrows at her brother, “has just announced that he’s found his Soulmate, and they’re together, and it doesn't require commentary.” Yoongi stares at his mom, shock evident on his features. The uncle huffs, but he doesn’t say anything else, and both Yoongi and Jungkook relax a little.
“Congratulations, Yoongi,” his aunt says, and Yoongi gives her a smile. A few more congratulations follow, one from Yoongi’s brother, who then takes the opportunity to toast himself again. Yoongi pushes his chair back, announcing he needs air. Jungkook stands, too, bowing a little, and follows the elder out to the porch.
The air outside is fresh, a gentle breeze flowing. Yoongi braces his arms on the railing of the porch, taking a deep breath, and Jungkook leans next to him. It’s silent, except for the distant sounds of children, the cicadas, and the muffled voices from inside. Jungkook waits for Yoongi to speak, but he doesn’t, so Jungkook does.
“That wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be, was it?” he asks the elder, cocking his head.
“Not really,” Yoongi shrugs, smiling up at Jungkook. He tilts his face, so Jungkook leans down to kiss him, brief and reassuring. Yoongi’s aura is still dark, though, dark and tense, though it flares gently at Jungkook’s touch. “My dad hasn’t said anything,” Yoongi says, pulling away.
“Your dad doesn’t say much anyway, honey.” Yoongi turns, towards the door. Jungkook jumps a bit. Yoongi’s mom smiles at them, walking out onto the porch, offering them both a beer. Yoongi takes his with a smile, and Jungkook with a mumbled thanks.
“I know,” Yoongi says, taking a sip. “I just have a feeling it’s coming, though.”
“He’s not mad, or against it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “I can see his aura, or did you forget?” This makes Yoongi smile, a little less tense than before, his aura brightening.
“That makes me feel better,” he says, leaning closer to Jungkook.
“He loves you, Yoongi, and as a father, with a grown son, all he can ask for is your happiness,” his mom says. With her words sinking in, she hugs Yoongi goodnight, then Jungkook, and she’s gone, heading back inside. There’s a roar of noise, when she opens the door, that’s silenced when she shuts it.
“I’m really not ready to go back in there, yet,” Yoongi comments, scratching the back of his neck. Jungkook agrees, so they sit side by side on the steps, talking only a bit, until the house goes relatively quiet. Only then, do they sneak back in, passing Yoongi’s dad reading in the recliner. He smiles at them, saying goodnight, and that small action makes Yoongi’s aura beam, all of it’s storminess gone.
Yoongi and Jungkook change in the darkness of Yoongi’s old room, whispering, then they climb into the tiny bed, pressed close, and sleep, preparing themselves for the arrival of the rest of Yoongi’s family, and the wedding, the next day.
Much to Jungkook’s surprise, and Yoongi’s, the wedding goes fine. They hold hands at the church, with Yoongi introducing Jungkook as his Soulmate, and they even dance (for about a minute and a half) at the reception, back at Yoongi’s parents’. Not a single one of Yoongi’s relatives do so much as look at them funny, though the fat uncle has disappeared. Jungkook does notice, however, that Yoongi’s mom walks around with a smug smile the entire day.
Yoongi mingles, for a short while, with cousins and family friends he hasn’t seen in awhile, so Jungkook spends a little time entertaining the kids in attendance, testing out his future as a teacher. He catches Yoongi watching him, several times, a fond smile on his face, his aura azure and stunning, and it makes Jungkook blush. The kids tease him for it, blind to anything but love, unlike the adults.
Not a few of Yoongi’s relatives are interested in Yoongi’s music, so, with much coaxing (and a promised blowjob from Jungkook), Yoongi takes a seat at his grandmother’s baby grand that his dad and brother had rolled out onto the back deck earlier in the day. He plays a few songs, while couples dance and singles sway in their seats. Jungkook feels pride surge in his chest, because Yoongi is beautiful; his grey silk shirt, a few shades lighter than his hair, hangs a little loose from his frame, and his aura, forever breathtaking, surges and flows with his songs.
“What color is it?” Jungkook jumps a little, turning to look down at Yoongi’s mom, who’d snuck up to stand beside him.
“His aura?” Jungkook asks. She nods.
“I’ve always been curious,” she says, smiling at her son. “His father’s is grey, though that’s a poor description on my part.” Jungkook nods; he understands.
“It’s… blue. But, it’s so much more than that,” Jungkook says, frowning. “Sometimes it’s cloudy, like the sea when it storms, but sometimes it’s clear. It can be aquamarine or cobalt, and it can be dim or glittery...”
“You know, I can see that, actually,” Yoongi’s mom nods, turning her smile to Jungkook. “You describe it well.”
“Not really. It’s dancing, right now, too. When he plays music, it’s like… it’s own being,” Jungkook shrugs. “It… music wasn’t what you wanted for him, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t,” his mom shakes her head, “but now, I’m glad we let him pursue it.”
“Me, too,” Jungkook nods. “I wouldn’t have met him, if he didn’t play piano.”
“I have a feeling that’s not true,” she says, then they fall silent, entranced by the music Yoongi plays. It’s haunting, but bright; like Yoongi, Jungkook thinks.
Eventually, as evening descends, Yoongi’s brother and his new bride rush out to the airport shuttle, waiting to whisk them off to the beginning of their honeymoon. Yoongi and Jungkook clap, along with the rest of the guests, as they get in the van, waving and blowing kisses. It’s kind of sweet, in a corny way. When they’re gone, someone turns up the music, and wine begins to flow generously.
“C’mon,” Yoongi says, taking Jungkook’s hand, “I had my mom grab our stuff. Let’s go home.” Jungkook nods, letting Yoongi lead him by the hand to his car. They’re stopped by a deep voice, though; Yoongi’s dad. The elder tosses his keys to Jungkook, then he walks towards the man standing near the front door. Yoongi looks a little nervous, but his aura is calm, so Jungkook climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car.
A few minutes later, Yoongi is smiling and hugging his dad. Then he’s coming back towards the car, illuminated by the headlights.
“Mom must have spoken to him,” Yoongi says, kicking off his shoes and buckling up. “He was letting me know you’re always welcome in his family.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says, relief and warmth expanding in his chest. He waves at Yoongi’s dad, then, and the man waves back; then he’s turning, back towards the party, so Jungkook puts the car in reverse and starts to back out of the long gravel driveway.
“You know how to get back home?” Yoongi asks, settling back against the seat.
“I know how to get back to the interstate, so yeah,” Jungkook says, nodding in the darkness.
“Good,” Yoongi says, patting Jungkook’s arm, “wake me if you get lost. If not, wake me when we get home.”
“Okay, love,” Jungkook says, turning onto the highway, but Yoongi is already breathing deep and evenly.
A month later, Jungkook is cleaning up after dinner at Yoongi’s apartment, while the elder sits on the couch, his laptop on the coffee table.
“Oh, this place is only fifty bucks a night,” Yoongi calls, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.
“Too cheap,” Jungkook calls back. “I told you, anything under a hundred will be dirty breeding grounds for drugs and prostitution.”
“Well, shit, Jungkook, why don’t we just stay with your parents, then?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook can hear him throw himself back on the couch.
“You want to take a romantic, belated birthday getaway… to my parents’ house?” Jungkook asks, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. Yoongi snorts, indignant.
“Well… no,” he says, but he closes his laptop, apparently giving up for the night. Jungkook giggles, plopping down to sit next to his boyfriend.
“We still have weeks to find a hotel, don’t stress,” Jungkook says. Yoongi sticks his tongue out at him. “Fine, then, go ahead and stress. But I,” Jungkook stands, “am going to bed. And I’m sleeping nude.”
“Not fair,” Yoongi groans, but he gets up, following Jungkook up the bedroom. He sits on the bed, while Jungkook kicks off his jeans. Jungkook pauses, though, when he catches sight of Yoongi’s aura; its coiling, nervous and turbulent.
“Are you really upset about the beach thing?” Jungkook asks gently, moving to perch on the bed next to the elder.
“Goddamn aura,” Yoongi grumbles, “but, no. I’ve… been meaning to talk to you, about something.”
“Okay, love,” Jungkook says, brushing his knuckles against Yoongi’s neck in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” Yoongi is silent for a moment, then he blushes.
“I’m not ready for marriage,” he blurts out. Jungkook’s mouth falls open. He wasn’t expecting… that.
“I mean, you’re still in school, and I’ve got my music, and we haven’t even talked about kids, or where we want to be in five years,” Yoongi is rambling, but there’s no stopping him, so Jungkook settles back to listen. “And I mean, I’d like to own a house, at least, before I think about marriage. I love you, please don’t think this means I don’t love you, and I know we’re Soulmates, but I’m just not ready to get married.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, pausing, so Jungkook takes his chance.
“You’ve been wanting to say that since your brother’s wedding, haven’t you?” Jungkook asks, unable to hide his smile. Yoongi pouts at him, but he nods shyly.
“I’m not done,” he says, so Jungkook gestures for him to continue. “I… don’t want to get married, but… I wouldn’t hate the idea of you moving in.”
“With you?” Jungkook asks.
“Does that really need clarification, babe?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, his aura less burdened. “Yes, with me. Here.”
“You done, now?” Jungkook asks, teasing. Yoongi huffs, shoving the younger, but he doesn’t fight it when Jungkook pulls him into a kiss. The kiss is playful, tongues dancing and teeth nipping, but it has Jungkook’s face warming and chills erupting over his skin.
“I’m going to bed, asshole,” Yoongi threatens, a smile on his face.
“Wait, wait, I’m not done,” Jungkook says, winking. “Okay, sorry, I won’t tease you anymore. But, yes, by the way. I’m not ready to get married, either, but, I love you, too. I would really like to move in with you.”
“Good,” Yoongi says, nodding. He pulls off his shirt and flops till he’s on his side of the bed, then he burrows under the blanket. “Get in here, Kook.”
Jungkook only laughs, standing to shed the rest of his clothes, then he flicks off the lamp on the desk. He climbs into bed, where Yoongi instantly latches onto him, and smiles.
Jungkook doesn’t know what his aura is doing, right now, but he has a hunch that it matches Yoongi’s; his Soulmate’s aura is glistening, like a creek at dawn, bright, beautiful, and perfect, and Jungkook holds Yoongi close, just like he has for millennia.