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Jungkook generally liked getting older. He liked the independence he gained after school, and the grown up money he could spend on whatever he wanted even if his mom scolded him when she visited, and the ever-growing realization that life was his to live as he wanted to live it.
What he did not like was the insomnia that his father had apologetically informed him was genetic.
All the meds he had tried made him feel too groggy or loopy during the day for it to be worth it, unwilling to feel out-of-it beyond the general perpetual sleepiness his paternal great-great-great grandfather (probably) had cursed him with. None of the sleep studies he’d been paid considerably well for since he was a younger volunteer had resulted in anything but a shrug and a sleep therapy consultation. Sleeping next to friends helped about one tenth of a time, sometimes laying down turned 180 on the bed worked, sometimes listening to an audiobook or podcast or putting on a movie worked, but nothing worked more than ASMR.
He had weird dreams when he fell asleep listening to people playing with sticky slime, sure, but having dreams at all made it worth it.
He cycled through the types pretty routinely, switching it up when he started feeling his brain not latching onto them as much. Slime, soap cutting, tapping, typing, mukbangs, cafe livestreams—all of them had their charms in his mind. But he had never, never, found anything more effective than the RKive channel.
30 something guy keeping plants alive :) was the only real information Jungkook had on him. He knew what his hands looked like more than he knew his own, he knew he liked naming his plants and giving regular updates like he was a proud father, he knew he was very passionate about what he posted and had replied to Jungkook’s one and only comment about how appreciative he was of his efforts and editing with such kind enthusiasm and Jungkook had thrown his phone nearly across the room with a yelp when he saw his name pop up.
He didn’t know his name or his voice or where he lived, but he hoped he slept as nicely every night as Jungkook did on his very best ones.
It had been three weeks of falling asleep to RKive’s videos, an astounding record for Jungkook. He usually had to switch it up every week or so, if he even lasted that long. Sometimes he was able to cycle back to particular favorites, but usually it had to be something new entirely to keep his brain from latching on to the ever-looming sleeplessness. But he watched through RKive’s fifty video library, and even if he shot awake when he got a notification that a new video had been uploaded, he was lulled into a calm state of mind with the soothing, methodical leaf pruning or repotting or (possibly his favorite) soaking the succulents, their bubbles making him feel all nice and pleasantly chilly and cared for, like RKive was bringing him back to life instead.
He became incredibly familiar with the background music of RKive’s channel, as well—original compositions, as he confirmed in one of his comments. Though music alone didn’t really do it for him, he listened to the RKive SoundCloud he’d linked in one of his more recent uploads as he got ready for bed, getting into the right headspace to actually sleep.
He became much more familiar with RKive’s hands.
Sometimes he bypassed watching the plants entirely, focusing only on those movements, those calloused, talented fingers, his knuckles, his wrists, felt inordinately disappointed when he was working on a poky plant and wore protective gloves. He couldn’t pretend he was a plant being pruned, not really, but—it would feel nice to be petted to sleep. He could admit that.
-
“I’m Namjoon,” the new hot neighbor said.
“Namjoon,” Jungkook repeated, staring at him like he was seeing a god instead of a human, a perfect sculpture of a man who now lived next door to him, his hotness in close proximity, his muscles just a wall away, probably walking around shirtless like he was right now, like those muscles were harmless and not—Jungkook couldn’t help but glance down. “Thighs.”
Namjoon blinked. “Sorry?”
When Jungkook slammed his apartment door behind himself, humiliation burning through his entire body, he wished he had just said his name was Thighs. His nickname, or something. He would never be able to face Namjoon and his thighs again, would never forget this embarrassment, this horrible memory, the day he brought more shame to himself than he ever thought possible—
“Jungkook,” he yelled, though he wasn’t sure if Namjoon was even still there. “My name is Jungkook.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Namjoon called back. Jungkook could, unfortunately, just hear that dimpled grin in his voice. “I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”
“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered.
He thought RKive’s effectiveness might meet his end that night; there was no way even the best channel he had ever found would be able to soothe his humiliation enough to let him sleep. And yet—
He was still groggy when he went downstairs to fetch a package, his hair an absolute mess, pajamas still on, and he must look ridiculous after tugging on his stompy boots because they were the closest to the door, and of course Namjoon was in front of the mailboxes.
His thighs were hidden by sweatpants this time, at least, Jungkook thought with a pitiful disappointment.
“Jungkook-ssi!” he said brightly, looking much too put together for—Jungkook checked his phone. Well, it was past noon. “I hope you had a good night.”
Jungkook blinked. “I did,” he said truthfully. “Thank you.” He bit his cheek before having to get it out, “I’m sorry for last night, Namjoon-ssi, I was tired and obviously my mind wasn’t controlling my mouth and—”
“I’ve forgotten all about it,” Namjoon said. Jungkook felt weak at those dimples. “Although—if I hadn’t forgotten, I wouldn’t exactly be resentful of such a nice compliment. Whether it came from your mind or your mouth.”
Jungkook blushed, mumbled something, and started to scamper back to the elevators.
“Jungkook-ssi!” Namjoon called. Jungkook cringed but turned around. Namjoon had his package in hand and came close to give it to him.
‘Hands,’ Jungkook very nearly blurted. Thank god his mind and mouth were cooperating now. “Oh. Thank you.”
Namjoon’s hands were, like the rest of him, perfect. Wonderful. Strong and handsome, slightly calloused, fingers elegant, even his knuckles attractive. Why did they look so familiar?
“Thanks,” he said again.
“Of course,” Namjoon smiled, giving him a slight bow. “I won’t keep you. I’m about to go on a run.”
Of course he was. Jungkook bowed back. “I’m the one keeping you, then, huh? Have a nice run, Namjoon-ssi.”
He ran off before he could embarrass himself. Again.
-
RKive’s every-other-day upload was different—he had moved, he said (well—wrote in the on-screen captions), and he hadn’t finished setting everything up just yet, but his new place had better window placement and he had hopes that his plants would flourish there.
Jungkook was sure they would. It would be hard not to flourish in RKive’s care.
-
i embarrassed myself in front of my new neighbor will u make cookies for me
Jin made fun of him in between accusing him of helplessness and hopelessness, but he did deliver a plate of yummy looking cookies—Jungkook only knew they looked yummy because Jin had smacked his hand when he attempted to taste one. Jungkook pouted but withdrew, attempting to look contrite.
Jin squinted at him. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”
Jungkook blushed and attempted to shove him out the door.
“Oh, he is!” Jin gasped. “Is he the hottest thing you’ve ever seen besides me? Does my baby have an itty bitty crush? How did you embarrass yourself, you never said, I assumed you tripped or almost fell down the stairs—”
“I am the picture of suavity and I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye—”
Jin did slip his shoes on, giving Jungkook a sidelong glance. “Fine, I’ll go. But are you sleeping?”
Not even sleeping well, just sleeping. Jungkook was at least glad to give him that good news.
“Yeah, I have been.”
“Ah, my Kookie. You can always come to hyung’s if it gets bad again.”
“I know, I know.”
“Or maybe you can go to your hot neighbor’s—”
Jungkook managed to shove him out and directly into Namjoon.
“Oh!” Namjoon said, surprised and then dimply, having stabilized Jin with one hand, the other holding groceries. “Are you alright?”
Jin stared at him, then looked him up and down, and Jungkook wanted to die.
“I am now,” Jin said, pretending like he wasn’t blushing up to his ears. “You’re my little Jungkookie’s new neighbor, aren’t you?”
Namjoon smiled, thankfully removing his hand from Jin’s traitorous back and bowing respectfully. “I am.”
Jungkook tried to give Jin warning eyes that said If you steal him, I will never forgive you and I will make your life a living hell and no amount of dinners or cuddles or weekend trips will fix that until they do, but Jin just gave him a stupid, cheeky grin.
“Jungkookie was just telling me about you. About your meeting more than you, though, he let some details slip.”
Jungkook elbowed him in the ribs. “Bye, hyung—”
Jin cackled, and left him with thighs and hands and a plate of cookies.
Jungkook stared at Namjoon until he quirked a brow. “Oh! Oh, yeah—uh, yeah. I made these for you. Or I got Jin-hyung to make them, my oven doesn’t work very good, so—”
“For me?” Namjoon smiled. “Ah, Jungkook-ssi, that’s so thoughtful, thank you. Though—you’re already the best neighbor I’ve ever had, you don’t need to bribe me.”
Jungkook laughed a little, ducking his head. “It’s not really a bribe. It’s, ah—well. It’s to make up for, you know—”
“The thing I’ve forgotten all about?” Namjoon asked kindly, an edge of teasing in his voice.
Jungkook nodded, blushing. “Yes. That.”
Namjoon grinned. “Would you mind bringing them in for me? I have my hands full.”
“Oh! Yes, of course—”
And the first thing that greeted Jungkook was a beautiful, flourishing, oddly familiar monstera. And then shaded ferns, and healthy hostas, and beautiful blooming flowers, and seeds near the windows, and—
“That succulent is looking a little yellow,” he blurted.
Namjoon smiled. “Ah, yes. He’s a recent rescue. I’m planning on repotting him later today. Do you have an interest in plants?”
He hadn’t a month ago. “Uh. A little. Not—not enough to have any.”
“No?” Namjoon smiled, putting the grocery bags on his counter. “They really liven a place up.”
“I just—I worry I’d kill them. I’m not really—well. It’s all I can do to take care of myself, sometimes. I don’t want to risk it.”
“I can recommend some hardy ones if you ever want to get into it,” Namjoon offered kindly. “I do warn you, though—” he grinned, gesturing, “there’s a risk that you’ll start with a little tomato plant on the window sill and have to move apartments with a forest in tow.”
Jungkook laughed, putting the plate of cookies on the counter. “You really like gardening, then?”
“I love it. I work from home, so—it’s good to have life around me, even if it doesn’t have any office gossip to offer.”
Jungkook grinned. “I work from home, too. I have friends who tell me their office gossip to make up for the lack, though. I’ll be sure to loop you in.”
“Oh, please do! Jungkook-ssi—” Namjoon looked almost bashful all of a sudden, “would you like to stay for a cup of tea? Or coffee? Or—I just got some milk and juice and—”
“Tea would be great,” he interrupted. “Thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”
“Ah, call me hyung.”
Namjoon was a writer, he learned over the next hour, though he edited and translated professionally, and writing—”for now,” he said with a hopeful sternness to himself—was more of a hobby. Jungkook commiserated, his own personal art relegated to his own spare time, corporate marketing actually paying him.
“For now?” Namjoon asked.
Jungkook had grinned. “For now.”
They both worked out, and Jungkook was able to recommend his own gym before he had the terrible thought that that might mean he would see Namjoon with his shirt off. Namjoon recommended a cafe nearby that Jungkook hadn’t yet tried, and kindly, terrifyingly, offered to treat Jungkook the next time they had a coinciding break.
And then they just—talked, about music and weather and friends and family and everything in between, even dreams and hopes and wanting to one day be able to get pets. Hours passed without them even realizing, tea being refilled and the sun going down and Namjoon looking startled when he interrupted himself with a yawn.
“Oh,” he said, checking his watch. He looked to the wall clock to make sure he hadn’t read it wrong.
Jungkook blinked. “Is it ten?”
“It, ah,” Namjoon laughed a little, “it looks like it is. I didn’t mean to keep you so long, Jungkook-ssi, I hope you didn’t have anything pressing—”
“I didn’t,” Jungkook promised. “The most pressing thing was making sure you actually forgot how we met, so—”
Namjoon grinned. “Well—you’ve given me a good few hours to replace the memory. You know, the one I don't have.”
“I hope I didn’t keep you.”
“You didn’t,” Namjoon said, grinning. “This was the most pressing thing for me. I’m glad to know you better, Jungkook-ssi.”
“Ah,” Jungkook laughed. “You know what restaurant gave me food poisoning, please be informal.”
“Then you’d better call me hyung.”
“Namjoon-hyung,” he said obediently. “I’ll see you around?”
“I hope so.”
Jungkook, of course, fell asleep to one of RKive’s old videos, drifting off easily.
-
For possibly the first time in his life, Jungkook found himself looking forward to going to bed. He’d gotten a notification for a new RKive upload in the middle of a video meeting and had to disguise his very obvious excitement for a general passion for graphic design. It seemed to make the company even more eager to hire them for their marketing campaign, though, so RKive's channel was apparently handy even beyond sleep.
He still had to do his normal routine—eating an earlyish dinner, going for a long run, making sure his body was tired in the hopes that his mind would follow—before getting into bed, opening his laptop and curling around his childhood bunny, ready to sink into a wonderful, incredible, pleasant headspace before succumbing to a restful, fitless, fulfilling sleep.
Except—
Jungkook slammed the space bar barely ten seconds into the video.
RKive was focusing on a yellowing succulent today. It was clearly morning, the light from the window near wherever he was filming was golden and soft. Morning, because last night—
Jungkook unpaused, then paused again, then unpaused for one last time, no matter how tempted he was to analyze every single frame for some other familiarity every other second.
Coincidence. It was a coincidence. There was no way.
It was a little harder to fall asleep that night, mind racing with a possibility that could not be.
-
“Ah, fuck—” followed a crash outside of Jungkook’s door, and he was in the perfect place to throw it open.
“What happened?”
Namjoon held his bloody hand in his other, looking sheepish where he crouched beside a shattered jar. “Jungkook, hi—”
“Hyung, you’re bleeding.”
“I dropped my recycling and got a little cut, it’s okay—”
“Hyung, you’re bleeding a lot.” Perhaps a lot was a slight exaggeration, but even a little bit from Jungkook’s favorite neighbor was too much. “Let me patch you up, come here—”
Jungkook made quick work of sweeping up the glass at Namjoon’s worried insistence, if only so he would stop trying to do it himself. He left the dustpan in the hall to deal with later, though, hurrying to help his patient. Namjoon had already rinsed his hand under water, and the bleeding had slowed, but—
“Poor thing,” Jungkook mumbled, getting his first aid kit from the bathroom. “Here, let me see—”
Namjoon obeyed, sitting at Jungkook’s little kitchen table and letting him fuss over him, though his fussing was only really putting neosporin and a bandaid over the little cut.
“Dragonite!” Namjoon said, perking up.
Jungkook blinked. “Is Dragonite okay? I have the OG starters, too, and I think Meowth?”
“Dragonite is great,” Namjoon smiled. Dimples. “He’s one of my favorites.”
Jungkook had very likely never been more endeared by anything else. “Oh.” He had very likely never been more disappointed than when his phone buzzed in his pocket, an alarm for a meeting he was well-prepared for and now absolutely did not want to have.
“Thank you for fixing me up, Jungkook-ah,” he said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Hyung appreciates it.”
-
It was a spur of the moment purchase, one made after spending a good minute at least staring at the plant in the shop’s display window. It wasn’t even for sale, but—the teenage part-timer behind the counter let it go when he slid a crumpled 5k won bill across the counter.
It had been getting too much sunlight and too little water, the soil was too dry and the leaves were curling at the ends. Even after watching all of RKive’s videos, he wasn’t sure if it was a lost cause or not. He was confident he couldn’t bring it back to life, but—
Namjoon wasn’t home when he knocked on his door when he got back to his apartment and Jungkook had to run back out for dinner with Jimin, but he left a note on the pot for Namjoon to find.
Thought of you, he said, hope you can fix it! - JK, with a pleading eyes emoji drawn on for emphasis.
I will do my best! Namjoon texted a few hours later, a salute emoji solidifying the promise, and Jungkook did a very admirable job of dodging Jimin when he lunged for his phone to see what he was smiling about.
It wasn’t a ploy. It truly wasn’t. He didn’t think of what this plant might inspire.
RKive’s next video was a typical one, introducing a new plant, showing what was wrong, telling what RKive would attempt to fix it. A sad, wilting painted lady fern, dry soil and overexposed to sunlight, in a plastic container that was too small for its roots.
RKive carefully pruned away dead leaves, a Dragonite bandaid between his thumb and pointer finger.
Looks like this one needs special care from special hands! a comment read. Hope yours heals soon.
RKive had replied. I hope I can heal it like its special delivery person healed me.
-
He and Namjoon had planned this lunch days before; Namjoon would order chicken, Jungkook would bring the banchan and drinks, and they would enjoy an hour hanging out before going back to their tedious workdays. It had been happening once a week for a month, a wonderful tradition that kept them looking forward to something other than the weekend. They switched apartments just for a change of scenery, and it was Namjoon’s turn. The fern was at the door, looking much more happy than when Jungkook had delivered it.
“I’ve been falling asleep to your hands for months,” Jungkook blurted.
Namjoon blinked. “What?”
“To—” Jungkook went red. “I mean—to your—and not months, really, just almost two, or I guess maybe it is two now? But to your hands—to your plants, and hands, I mean—”
“Oh!” Namjoon smiled. “You watch my channel?”
“Yes,” Jungkook said. He wasn’t sure when he covered his face, but his voice was muffled from behind his hands.
“Did you see your lady?” he asked, ushering him in like Jungkook didn’t feel starstruck and amazed and so out of his element he wanted to run home and also run into Namjoon’s arms. “She’s already doing better, I think. She just needed some special attention.”
Jungkook let him go on for a few moments, unable to say anything at all. He wrung his hands, looking around with truly clear eyes, no longer able to convince himself that it was all a coincidence. Namjoon still had the bandaid on, for god’s sake.
“You don’t—understand,” he said as Namjoon laid out the food.
“Hm?”
“You—I have—sleep problems. Like—a lot. I can’t fall asleep without help and even then it’s iffy and I haven’t been able to find anything to actually help for longer than a few days but I’ve been falling asleep to your hands a-and your plants and your music for weeks and you’re just—right next door! I didn’t know, I swear—I just—when you bathed that succulent and he did the little bubbles and—”
“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon stopped him gently, taking both of his hands in his own. “You’re acting like I’m mad.”
“I—” Jungkook whined. “Are you?”
“No,” he said, quiet and firm, squeezing his hands. “I’m touched. I’m happy I’ve been helpful to you.”
“You’re a really good neighbor,” Jungkook said weakly.
Namjoon just laughed and pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple that Jungkook knew he would feel hours and hours later. “So are you, Kook-ah. Let’s eat before the food gets cold, come on.”
-
“You know,” Namjoon said as they cleaned up, preparing to go back to work. “I take care of them at night sometimes, too. I just don’t film it.”
Jungkook blinked at him and Namjoon blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I mean—if you want the real life RKive experience,” he grinned almost self-deprecatingly, but landed somewhere shyly hopeful instead. “You said it helps you sleep? I, ah—I don’t know—”
“Are you inviting me over?”
“I am. Yeah.”
Jungkook stared at him for a moment. “Tonight?”
Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. If you want. I—ah, my couch is comfy? You don’t have to stay, of course, not if you don’t want, but—”
“Thank you, hyung,” he said, quiet and heartfelt and feeling a little too much like it was a dream come true. “I’ll be there.”