Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“if the train leaves at four, then we could do something in the morning tomorrow before we have to go,” says namjoon, fiddling with the pen in his hand. he’s pouring over a spread of papers, notes, and carefully planned itineraries on the coffee table, and yoongi looks up from his phone and cup of awful hotel coffee.

“are we sure we’ll be coherent enough to do anything tomorrow morning?” he asks, sipping at his coffee.

namjoon looks at him over top of his reading glasses, eyebrow perched high on his forehead. “you’re saying you’re going to go out and get so drunk that you won’t be awake before four in the afternoon?”

“not me,” says yoongi. his eyes flicker to seokjin, who has been nursing the same bottle of wine since noon. “and we don’t even know where hoseok went, so i don’t trust him.”

“we can leave them here, then,” suggests namjoon. “you and i can be responsible adults and go to a museum or something.” yoongi almost rolls his eyes. he likes museums and art and artifacts as much as the next tourist, but they’ve already been to several museums today alone and he can’t handle another so soon. he’s not sure why every city in europe has fourteen museums, anyway.

“you two are no fun,” calls seokjin through the wine bottle. “this is supposed to be one of those wild holidays where we don’t remember most of it because we’re drunk out of our minds and someone ends up married and we lose someone else along the way.”

“we did that enough in college, hyung,” says namjoon. “we’re adults now, with stable careers and lives and everything. we can do a mature europe trip.”

“mature is boring.”

“mature is smart.”

“fuck my liver, namjoon! i’ve waited months for this.”

“we should just see how this evening pans out,” says yoongi, hoping to cool whatever is going on between his two friends. “hoseok wanted to go to that karaoke bar, right? whatever it’s called. we can go there and attempt not to act like we’re eighteen again, and go from there.” it’s been years since yoongi was a partier, if he ever was; he’s twenty-five now and likes to drink recreationally with his friends and co-workers, but it’s usually just wine or some sophisticated drink like scotch once in a while. he knew, of course, that heading out on a vacation across europe with his three closest friends would only invite him to dive back into the drinking and party culture they were privy to in college, when most of them became friends, but he’s trying to be sober enough to remember this.

some other members of the group, however, don’t seem to have the same plans in mind.

“hoseok isn’t even here,” complains seokjin. “he’s probably fallen into a canal by now. if he doesn’t come back in an hour, fuck the karaoke bar and let’s go to the red light district.” he wiggles his eyebrows at both namjoon and yoongi, who share a look between them a moment later. they can’t not go to the red light district, considering they’re only in amsterdam for two days and that is one of the things the city is famous for.

“are you sure you’re the oldest in this group?” asks yoongi.

“age does not equal maturity,” says seokjin.

“clearly,” mutters namjoon. yoongi snorts when seokjin grabs a throw pillow from the couch he’s sitting on and chucks it at namjoon, who dodges it, instead causing it to land and slide over top of the coffee table. it takes half of namjoon’s papers with it, scattering them over the floor, and yoongi can only watch with amusement as namjoon and seokjin start squabbling.

he can’t help thinking that putting the four of them together has always been nothing short of a disaster, but he’s missed this. although namjoon and yoongi are employed by the same company, allowing them to keep in touch more readily, the four of them have mostly gone their separate ways since university. careers, relationships, opportunities—they text, meet for dinner, make a point of seeing each other as often as possible. but adult life is never like being in university again, where the four of them were stuck in one dorm together for years and couldn’t get away from each other even if they tried.

they’ve made a point of beginning an annual or bi-annual vacation together, even if it’s just to jeju island for a few days. like old times, to catch up, to keep their friendship alive despite the world pulling them in every different direction. he always knew that going to europe for three weeks over the summer would allow time for squabbling and bickering and things going amiss—it’s them, after all: namjoon, who can’t keep track of his passport no matter how hard he tries, and seokjin, who continually wanders off without telling anyone, and hoseok, who has always had different interests than everyone else, and yoongi, who sometimes hates other tourists so much that he’d rather just stay in the hotel.

but he misses them constantly. he misses their messes, their bickering, their late night talks when sleep-deprived and stressed. things going wrong and never being able to agree on an already-decided itinerary is part of their charm, is part of what yoongi misses about them. he wouldn’t want it any other way.

eventually, namjoon and seokjin get tired of arguing—when seokjin offers some of his wine as a peace offering and agrees to wait about planning anything until hoseok comes back to the hotel. although the other three decided to head back to the hotel before dinner after a morning and afternoon of exploring the city, hoseok had been far too excited about getting high in a ‘coffee shop.’ no surprise there, considering the city they’re in. but it has been a while, and yoongi is just pulling out his phone to call hoseok when he hears a commotion outside of the hotel door.

inside the room, they pause. yoongi can just hear muffled voices through the door, one familiar and one not, and then the sound of hoseok putting the keycard in the door.

or—attempting to, anyway.

no one moves, letting him struggle before there’s a loud jesus christ from outside of the door and the lock finally opens, the door swinging open to reveal hoseok stumbling in with a complete stranger. the familiar brightness of hoseok’s orange hair greets them as he turns a blinding smile on his friends, and then reveals another man with equally blinding hair, although his is… blue. and long enough that half of it has been thrown up in a messy bun at the back of his head and half of it is left down, just beginning to fall over his shoulders.

he’s smiling just as wide as hoseok despite being in a stranger’s hotel room, and yoongi finds himself merely staring. maybe it’s about time someone made a friend and tried to bring them home, since they’ve been in europe for a week. he just didn’t think it would be at five in the afternoon when everyone else is still here.

“hey!” grins hoseok as the door falls shut behind him. all three men in the room just stare. “this is taehyung. we met at a coffee shop and got fucking baked together.”

yoongi shifts on the sofa, watching the blue-haired man. he’s korean, at least—of course hoseok would manage to find the one korean stoner in all of amsterdam and try to adopt him, or maybe do something a little more nefarious.

“okay,” says namjoon after the silence has gotten a little awkward. “and you’re bringing him here because…?”

“he’s super cool,” says hoseok. “and we got talking and we’re friends now, so i wanted to invite him over for a bit. i mean, if you three are cool with that.” it seems a little late for it—taehyung has already taken off his shoes and is wandering around the room like he’s inspecting the hotel décor, and hoseok points to the mini fridge in a gesture that clearly means he’s allowed to take whatever he wants.

“i guess,” says namjoon, glancing over at yoongi and seokjin.

“i think it’s nice,” says seokjin, getting up from the sofa and approaching taehyung with his hand out to shake. “i’m seokjin.” he gives a small bow, which taehyung returns before shaking his hand.

“kim taehyung,” says the newcomer. “your hotel room is really nice.”

“we can afford it, miraculously,” says seokjin. to be honest, they’re not trying to live in luxury for the trip, but now that they do have stable jobs and steady incomes, they don’t have to worry about hostels. he has a feeling that taehyung isn’t quite there yet, just from the way he keeps looking at the lamps over the beds.

“thank you for allowing me to come in,” he adds after a second. “i happened to be at the coffee shop that hoseok-hyung came to and you know… we happen to gravitate toward other asians.” yoongi snorts, although doesn’t fail to notice that taehyung and hoseok are already on intimate enough terms to use affectionate honorifics with each other. then again, they did get high together, and that can really bring people together. “he was telling me about you three and your trip.”

“nothing bad, i hope,” laughs namjoon.

hoseok collapses on the sofa next to yoongi, laugh a little awkward when he says, “obviously not.” then, as though to change the subject, he adds, “taehyung is travelling with his friends, too.”

“yeah,” grins taehyung. “jimin and jeongguk. they didn’t want to get high with me so they went to find korean food or something.”

“oh, any luck?” asks namjoon. “i know we’re in a different country so we should experience the culture fully or whatever, but i really miss korean barbeque right now.”

“jimin made sure to research korean restuarants in all of the cities we’re going to,” says taehyung. “that’s actually about the only research we did do.”

namjoon seems appalled by that information. “you don’t have any plans?”

“why would we?” shrugs taehyung. “we don’t even know exactly where we’re going. we have a rough outline of what we want to do and see, but we prefer to just kind of go with the flow and see where it takes us. as long as we find good bars and have somewhere to sleep that isn’t infested with bed bugs, that’s all we care about.”

yoongi suddenly gets it. “you’re in college, huh?” he asks. when taehyung looks at him with surprise, he adds, “we used to do that, too, when we were in college. your priorities are a lot different once you’re a proper adult and all.”

“jimin and i just graduated,” says taehyung. “so this is like our celebratory lap of europe. we brought jeongguk along because he doesn’t have any other friends and we were honestly a little worried about his well-being with us gone. also because we love him.”

“sounds like yoongi,” says seokjin, leaning over to namjoon. yoongi throws him a glare. he can damn well take care of himself—although he has to admit without the other three to get him out of the house, he’d probably not bother to outside of his job most days.

“taehyung said they wanted to hit up that karaoke bar i was talking about,” adds hoseok excitedly. “so we should all meet up and go out together! wouldn’t that be fun?”

yoongi is about to say no when seokjin pipes up with excitement about the idea. it makes sense; finding other koreans outside of korea is always an exciting moment, especially when they’re on vacation in predominantly white countries. not to mention hoseok has already become fast friends with taehyung and seems most excited about it, and yoongi himself is curious about taehyung’s friends.

not curious enough to spend a whole night with them in a karaoke bar, though.

he keeps his mouth shut because he doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of taehyung, who has taken to sitting on top of the coffee table (after gently piling namjoon’s notes and whatnot in the other corner) and excitedly telling seokjin and namjoon about what he and his friends have done since arriving in amsterdam yesterday. the longer it goes on, the less excited yoongi is about meeting taehyung’s friends. all three of them sound like typical college kids—having no idea how to take care of themselves, slightly reckless, and only invested in getting drunk out of their minds for the entirety of their trip.

of course, that’s why it seems hoseok and seokjin are looking forward to it. all it takes is taehyung mentioning that he graduated with an education degree for namjoon to take a liking to him, having considered going into education himself before ultimately deciding to become a journalist.

yoongi stews, hating himself for it. he’s loved this vacation so far, even with the drinking culture that seokjin and hoseok have attempted to impose. he loves spending time with his friends, loves traveling and experiencing new things. it takes him the entire half an hour that taehyung stays and talks to them for yoongi to figure out why he’s so bothered by the newcomer’s presence, why he feels so reluctant to go out and meet up with people who are probably nice and fun to be around.

when the door closes behind taehyung, having realized he was going to be late to meet his friends if he didn’t leave now, yoongi has a moment of clarity.

he’s not the only one. hosesok turns to him immediately, hand on his knee when he says, “you didn’t say much.”

“how is that different from usual?” asks yoongi, getting off of the sofa if only to get away from hoseok, heading for his water bottle across the room. when he reaches it and turns around, the other three are staring at him. “what? maybe i didn’t have much to say.”

“you don’t want to go meet taehyung’s friends, do you?” asks namjoon.

“i mean,” begins yoongi, averting their gazes. he can’t lie to them, though. “it’s not that i don’t think we’d have fun with them. taehyung seems like a really cool guy.”

hoseok stares at him. “but?”

“but,” sighs yoongi. “we only have so many days here. and this is supposed to our trip, not anyone else’s. i know it sounds stupid, but i’m being honest.”

“it’s just one evening, hyung,” says hoseok. “it’s not like they’re going to come with us on the rest of the trip. i just thought it would be neat to meet up with some other people like us and mingle our friend groups. they sound like fun.”

“if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to,” adds seokjin. “which would suck, admittedly, but you can make your own decisions. i think it’ll be fun, though.”

he has to decide if he actually thinks it’ll be a bad idea or if it’s something else—his introversion talking, not wanting to put energy into meeting new people and spending an evening with them when he was expecting to only be spending it with his friends and people he already knows. if it’s his reluctance to change, his desire for everything to always go according to plans they already made.

he wrinkles his nose, buying himself time by drinking some of his water before he wanders back to the sofa and sits down again. “i don’t know,” he says. “obviously i’m going to come because i don’t want to miss out on a night with you guys even if i don’t care about the other people there.”

“it’ll be fine, hyung,” says namjoon. “you can always come back early if you’re not having a good time.”

“you can watch me make a fool of myself at karaoke,” says seokjin. “i know you love that.”

“that’s more incentive for me to stay here, actually.”

“yoongi—”

“fine, i’ll come,” he sighs. “but if these kids are anything like what i’m expecting, this is gonna be a fucking terrible night.”

》》》

taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk show up late. it doesn’t make yoongi look forward to this any more than he was originally, although when he mutters as much to hoseok sitting beside him at a booth they snagged in the bar, hoseok elbows him in the side and tells him to give them a break. they’re young—although jimin and taehyung are only a year younger than hoseok and namjoon, he’s learned, so that’s not much of an excuse at all.

yoongi has already nursed one beer in hopes of making this easier by the time the three of them show up, stumbling into the bar in an array of colours. yoongi notices the blue hair immediately, like a beacon in the low lighting of the bar, and is somewhat unsurprised to find one other member of his company has bright pink hair. as they draw closer, hoseok having spotted them and waving them over enthusiastically, yoongi notes the various tattoos and piercings on display, at least what he can see around their clothing.

for a moment, he looks at his own friends. all of them look varying degrees of professional, even on a summer vacation; hoesok’s orange hair is about as wild as it gets between them, with seokjin’s blonde hair, namjoon’s peach hair, and yoongi’s own honey brown. he knows seokjin has a few tattoos, all hidden in places he won’t have to worry about someone seeing and trying to call him unprofessional. their clothes even look more put together than the newcomers’, somehow creating this divide between them that yoongi anticipates will only be shown more as the night goes on.

he turns back to the kids. this is truly going to be disaster.

“hyung!” taehyung calls when they’re close enough, waving back at hoseok before he squeezes into the booth beside him, smile as blinding as it was in the hotel room. “hello everyone. these are my friends, jimin and jeongguk.”

the other two stand before them for a moment. introductions are made—jimin is the one with black hair, barely shorter than taehyung’s and tossed up in a bun as well, and he greets each of them enthusiastically, immediately asking namjoon about something that taehyung must have mentioned to him. then there’s jeongguk—the one with pink hair, his fingernails a chipped black when he shakes yoongi’s hand almost shyly. it’s immediately clear he’s the least robust of the three, slipping into the booth beside jimin and watching the conversation that immediately begins to unfold.

yoongi watches him, just for a second. he looks like a typical college kid, the kind that yoongi learned to hate when he was in university himself—the kid who would show up to class every day ten minutes late with no pencil and still manage to ace every test, the kid who wouldn’t hesitate to be loud in the library for a stupid vine. he doesn’t even think vine is alive anymore, but if it was, jeongguk would probably be famous on it. or that musically app, if that’s still around.

he doesn’t seem quite like a college kid, though. jimin and taehyung are immediately loud and excited, ordering shots for the whole table—even though jeongguk asks how they’re planning on paying for that—and wanting to know everyone’s karaoke song choices, because they swear no one will leave here without going up on stage. jeongguk, on the other hand, seems to hang back a little, letting others guide the conversation. he glances up at yoongi a few times within the first few minutes that they arrive and then looks away just as quickly when he sees yoongi is already watching him.

yoongi stores that away for now, and grabs his shot as soon as it arrives, knowing immediately he’ll need it.

the night is as rowdy as he expected it would be. jimin and taehyung fit right in with hoseok and seokjin especially, and even namjoon; although namjoon tends to be less excitable like yoongi, he seems to be taken by both taehyung and jimin. he hears them intensely discussing the van gogh museum, and yoongi knows he’s lost namjoon to tweedledee and tweedledum immediately. they keep ordering drink after drink, seokjin determined to try out the whole fucking menu with taehyung and jimin encouraging him.

they bounce from conversation topic to conversation topic rapidly, covering enough ground to make yoongi’s head hurt; he learns that taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk all go to school in busan, and taehyung and jimin recently graduated from the education program. that’s where they met, although jimin and jeongguk had been friends for years before ending up at the same university. he learns that they’ve been drinking their way through europe for a week, rapidly running out of money to get to the other places they vaguely planned for. they don’t have jobs yet, so don’t have to be back in korea for any particular time. he also learns such trivial things as taehyung’s love for the saxophone, the fact that jimin is double-jointed, and it’s rare to see any of them with normal coloured hair—jimin’s just trying to give his poor follicles a break, although he himself had blue hair for a while a month ago.

it’s a lot of talking and shouting over the music and laughing at jokes and drinking. as the five of them grow drunker with each passing minute, yoongi finds himself hanging back, watching them with vague amusement. it’s not that he doesn’t want to join in, that he doesn’t have something to say; it’s merely that he’s less interested in what anyone has to say. he listens and answers questions when they’re directed at him, but he can’t help thinking that jimin and taehyung seem a lot… cooler than yoongi ever did in college. he can’t help worrying that his friends will want taehyung and jimin to stick around, and this will no longer be their trip but something else entirely.

but he also can’t help thinking that he’s not the only one.

on the other side of the booth, jeongguk has been as silent as yoongi has, choosing to watch rather than actively participate. he laughs at the jokes, drinks the drinks, but takes part as minimally as yoongi himself. by the time seokjin demands that they take over the karaoke at the front of the bar, yoongi has begun paying more attention to jeongguk than the conversation.

his hair is just long enough to hang in his eyes, dark roots beginning to grow in around the pink of his hair. his eyes are big as he watches what everyone else is doing, but when he smiles and laughs, his entire face lights up, mouth opening wide. yoongi can’t stop looking at the tattoos he can see peeking out of jeongguk’s clothing (all black, mostly ripped—another typical college kid look). he can see flowers and a skull and script of some sort, along with the multiple piercings in each ear and a septum piercing.

it looks like he should the one clambering over everyone to get out of the booth, dragging two other people with him and almost falling over once he hits the ground, but—that’s jimin, dragging hoseok and seokjin with him as they presumably head for the karaoke. jeongguk just watches them, laughing.

yoongi watches jeongguk, trying to figure something out.

his friends, along with taehyung and jimin, commandeer the karaoke, bringing more alcohol up with them as they scream the lyrics into the microphones. they don’t need more alcohol, but this bar doesn’t seem to have any rules about cutting someone off, so yoongi just watches them with amusement.

“this one’s for you, min yoongi!” namjoon yells when they manage to drag him up there, too, and then proceeds to sing some epik high song that yoongi didn’t even know there was a karaoke version of. but he raises his half-finished beer, only his third of the night, and namjoon does a pretty good job of it considering he’s a complete light weight and should have gone to bed an hour ago.

that’s as far as he goes for the karaoke, though, just watching his friends get rowdier and rowdier. normally, he might choose to get up there with them, but not when there are strangers in their numbers, not when he doesn’t know them well enough to let loose just yet.

he only remembers he’s not alone when he feels the seat dip next to him and he turns to see that jeongguk has scooted across the booth to him, the only two left now that all of their friends are on stage, trying to sing a terrible rendition of the korean national anthem for some godawful reason.

yoongi looks at him as jeongguk takes a sip of his drink, and then their eyes meet. jeongguk asks, “you didn’t want to agree to this, huh?”

was it so obvious, he wonders? he hasn’t spoken much, admittedly, and hasn’t joined in on the festivities. but no one else seemed to notice. “how did you know?” he asks.

jeongguk laughs, a huffed chuckle. “because i didn’t want to either.” yoongi’s eyebrows rise in surprise. he’d pegged jeongguk as the quieter type merely from how he didn’t join in on the conversation, but he hadn’t considered that he wasn’t the only one who was reluctant about all of this.

“really?” he asks.

“yeah,” shrugs jeongguk. he’s looking at their friends rather than at yoongi, like admitting it is embarrassing and he doesn’t want to seem vulnerable. “we’ve been going out most nights on this trip and i’d normally be up there with them, but it’s just… strangers. i usually have to be comfortable enough with someone to come out of my introversion shell, and we’re not there yet.”

strange, he thinks. that’s just what he thought about this, too. “yeah, me too,” says yoongi. “i don’t mind meeting new people and… fuck, they all get along well.” he gestures to their friends, who have moved onto hanging onto each other and swaying back and forth as they sing a rather emotional song that has half of the drunken bar in their feelings with them. “but i’ve never been able to do that. just jump right into a night like that, especially with people i don’t know. sometimes i envy them.”

jeongguk nods as he sips at his drink again. “i was hoping alcohol would help, but it’s just made me kind of sleepy.”

“i bet if you left, they wouldn’t even notice.”

jeongguk glances at him, a moment of confusion on his face. “why would i leave now? i’m talking to you.”

“you said you didn’t want to be here.”

“i said i didn’t want to agree to coming here. but here i am, and i have to make sure those two idiots get home in one piece. that’s basically been my job this trip.”

yoongi snorts. “taehyung said that they were worried how you would fare without them if they didn’t take you with them.”

“bastard,” sighs jeongguk. “trust me, they’re both very capable adults, but when you put them together, they have one braincell and it’s mine. ‘cause they do shit like this—meet complete strangers and decide we should all be best friends. you guys could have been serial killers for all they knew, but they didn’t care.”

“i can promise i’m not a serial killer,” says yoongi.

“what are you, then?”

yoongi lifts his beer to his lips, watching how intently jeongguk is looking at him. he narrows his eyes before he says, “a pisces.”

“god, even worse.”

that startles a laugh out of yoongi, putting his drink down lest he accidentally spill it on himself. and jeongguk grins at him, something cheeky, and yoongi thinks—maybe being here isn’t so bad after all. up close, jeongguk is even prettier than he looked across the booth, and not only because of his hair and his tattoos and his bright eyes. there’s something inviting about him, something that makes yoongi want to know more. not to mention they seem to be on the same page about this whole night, feeling slightly like the ugly ducklings out of their friend groups—and that automatically makes them allies, already leads yoongi to believe that his original assumption about jeongguk is entirely wrong.

he leans back in the booth, tapping his finger against the top of the table. “tell me a bit about yourself, then, jeongguk,” he says. “i’ve learned enough intimate details about your friends to last a lifetime, but i’ve learned next to nothing about you.”

“i like to keep it that way most of the time,” laughs jeongguk. he runs a hand through his hair, letting the pink strands fall to his forehead again. “but, uh… sure. i’ll be twenty-one in september, just finished my third year of university. i’m kind of bored with it, though, so i applied to a bunch of different universities around the world, so hopefully something pans out. i like music, art… i dunno.”

“why’d you dye your hair pink?”

“thought it would be fun,” shrugs jeongguk. “that, and my hyungs are always doing it, so i wanted to see what it was like. i think black matches my aesthetic more, though.”

yoongi snorts. “everything about you seems like an emo kid but your hair.”

“i’m not emo.”

“do you have a skull tattoo?”

“yeah, but—”

“emo,” says yoongi. “i bet you experimented with eyeliner at a young age and never looked back.”

“and what about you, then?” asks jeongguk, crossing his arms and leaning them on top of the table. “you’re mister professional, then?”

“absolutely,” says yoongi. “i’m a news anchor, so i have to be.”

“why have i never seen you on the news, then?”

“you’re telling me you watch the real news and don’t rely on buzzfeed and twitter to tell you everything?”

jeongguk purses his lips like he’s trying not to grin, because clearly yoongi is right. “how’s your vacation been so far?” he asks instead of answering the question, changing the subject. yoongi lets it slide.

“surprisingly chaotic,” he says, and then glances at their friends again. they’ve finished singing, although have stayed near the stage as someone else has gone up and appear to be trying to start a mosh pit. “i mean, given who i’m traveling with, maybe it’s not that surprising. but we have everything planned down to what time we should wake up each morning and since we all actually have jobs, we can do lots of neat stuff. proper adult stuff.”

“sounds like the opposite of our trip,” says jeongguk. “we’re really slumming in. but i guess that’s what you should expect from a couple of broke college kids who haven’t gotten out of their partying phase.”

“as long as you’re enjoying it, that’s all that matters.”

“i am,” says jeongguk, but he looks at yoongi in such a way that yoongi thinks he doesn’t really mean the whole trip.

yoongi leans back in the booth, thinking—thinking. he wasn’t looking forward to coming out tonight, assuming their new friends would be the type to get on his nerves about everything. but he’s been pleasantly surprised to learn that jeongguk isn’t at all what he thought he would be, and is in fact funny and easy to talk to and interesting. of course, he’s sure jimin and taehyung are interesting, too, but he can’t deny the way he’s been drawn to jeongguk based on the grounds of their shared reluctance and apparent introversion. he wanted to stew in his own annoyance, wanted to go home after a night he didn’t enjoy just to spite his friends for making him do this in the first place, but now yoongi realizes that’s beginning to change.

suddenly, he wants to loosen up a bit. suddenly, he wants to get to know jeongguk more, letting go of his own pride so that he can enjoy himself. he could like jeongguk, he thinks. they could be friends.

so he worries at his lip, glancing over at their friends once more to make sure they haven’t passed out or gotten injured while yoongi and jeongguk have been preoccupied. and then yoongi asks, “do you want to get another drink?”

and jeongguk smiles at him, that wide one that show off his front teeth, and yoongi’s heart does a horrible thing in his chest when jeongguk says, “i would love that, yoongi-ssi.”

so they get another drink. and then another and another, each time opening up more and more as they begin to engage in deeper conversation. they trade questions back and forth, learning more and more about each other, finding that they have plenty of similar interests even if their lives seem to be in completely different places at the moment. they share jokes, mostly about their own friends and the shenanigans they’ve gotten up to during their trips, and as time slips on, yoongi finds himself growing more and more comfortable. opening up more, wanting to drink jeongguk in, wanting this night to go on and on.

by the time their friends return to the table, yoongi is drunk enough that he doesn’t even complain when seokjin collapses on top of him, taking yoongi’s face in his hands and wailing some lyric about lost love. instead, he giggles, only realizing how close he and jeongguk have gotten to each other when he leans away from seokjin and ends up half in jeongguk’s lap.

“did you two finally decide to join the party?” asks jimin as he leans across the table in an attempt to pinch jeongguk’s cheeks.

“i said you two would get along,” says taehyung. “didn’t i say they would get along?”

“because they’re both boring,” says seokjin. “a match made in heaven.”

“just because we don’t feel the need to make fools of ourselves in public,” protests yoongi, giving seokjin’s nipple a twist through his shirt to make him move. it doesn’t seem to affect him, though.

with a sigh, jimin says, “lame. that’s the best part of going to a bar. c’mon, namjoon-hyung said that you used to be into rapping in college and i want you to prove it.”

yoongi immediately throws daggers at namjoon, who is on the other side of the booth and looks like a fucking liar when he says, “sorry.”

“you rap?” asks jeongguk, though, eyes bright when he looks at yoongi. “i told you how much i love music and you didn’t even say anything! you have to go up now.”

something within yoongi softens at that, and he refuses to think about what it means when his immediate plans to vehemently refuse dissolve with just one look from jeongguk. maybe because his friends always tease him about his brief stint as an underground rapper, but in his drunken mind, he wants jeongguk to think he’s cool.

fuck. he wants a twenty-year-old college kid to think he’s cool.

“i’m not really that good,” he protests, but jeongguk is already grabbing his arm and shaking it.

“you have to!” he exclaims. “please, for me?” he makes his eyes wide, lip jutting out into a pout. it doesn’t make sense with the pink hair and black clothes and tattoos, but—shit. shit. yoongi knows then, suddenly, that jeongguk could ask him to do just about anything right now and he’d have a hard time refusing.

that’s how yoongi ends up on stage, red from embarrassment as his friends fucking cat call him but keeping his eyes trained on jeongguk instead, who stands front and center with a look of pure awe on his face as he watches yoongi. he realizes, halfway through the song, that he’s utterly fucked.

and from that moment on, everything goes downhill very rapidly.

having been roped into the drinking and partying, yoongi and jeongguk dive in head first. eventually, someone suggests they leave the bar, having fulfilled their dreams of singing karaoke. instead, they stumble through town, drunk enough that they care not for how loud and disruptive they are. even yoongi, who usually attempts to wrangle in his friends on nights out to make sure they don’t get fucking arrested, feels the effects of the alcohol enough that it’s freeing, light. he feels good.

at the head of the group, seokjin yells something, and then jimin yells at him, and yoongi squeezes through a small crowd of other tourists before he asks, “what’s going on?”

“they both realized the other wants to go to the red light district,” says namjoon.

“you guys,” gasps jimin as he turns around, almost tripping over his own feet as he walks backwards on the cobblestone. “we have to go! it’s fucking amsterdam.”

“this is a terrible idea,” murmurs jeongguk, arm brushing against yoongi’s as they walk near the back of the group. yoongi can’t help agreeing.

but they go anyway.

the streets are crowded with people, spilling into and out of bars, adult shops, and various theatres that appear to be showing live sex shows. yoongi has to admit it’s all rather interesting as they walk through the streets, passing down back alleys in which the windows are lit up red and scantily clad women attempt to entice them to enter. jimin and seokjin love it, of course, laughing at the different shop names and advertisements littering the street.

pulling the group into one of the shops selling various toys, games, outfits, and videos—along with a wide array of weed paraphernalia, because apparently every store has to sell it—jimin and seokjin keep giggling at everything they come across. yoongi watches as they pick up ridiculous toys and costumes, too drunk to behave in public, and finds himself snorting with amusement.

he wanders through the store, occasionally glancing at some merchandise. unfortunately, most things appear to be geared toward women, or straight couples. then again, yoongi could probably squeeze into some of those lingerie costumes—sexy nurse or librarian or whatever people are into these days. he pauses before a rack of costumes, eyebrows furrowing at the sexy cat costume on sale as he holds up one of the sleeves.

“find something you like?” says a voice beside him, too close to his ear, and yoongi startles, turning to see jeongguk standing too close for comfort. his eyes are hazy enough to know he’s clearly drunk, and yoongi ignores the pounding of his heart as he turns back to the costume.

“i’m not one for roleplay,” he admits.

“no?” asks jeongguk, reaching past yoongi to grab another costume on the rack, this one marketed as naughty christmas elf. it’s fucking august, so yoongi doesn’t even know why that’s for sale. “i think the cat suits you, though.”

“unfortunately, i don’t think i could fit into all of that leather.”

jeongguk shrugs, thankfully appearing to drop the conversation. yoongi’s mind is addled from alcohol enough that he’s not sure he can trust his own mouth, and since he’s still trying to make a good first impression, he doesn’t need to start rambling about his sex life. which, for the most part, has been rather dry recently.

“you could buy it for a lady friend,” jeongguk suggests instead, moving around yoongi and digging into a bin next to the costumes filled with toys such as handcuffs, suspenders, and what yoongi can only describe as mankinis.

the mention of a lady friend has yoongi letting out a nervous laugh. he’ll blame it on being drunk—the fact that he says, without thinking, “something’s gone terribly wrong if i’m buying anything for a lady friend.”

jeongguk’s eyes dart to him quickly, expression betraying his thoughts—for a moment, yoongi fears that jeongguk will say something awful, will demand yoongi get out of his sight. but then yoongi sees relief on jeongguk’s face, just for a second before it’s replaced by amusement again.

“oh,” says jeongguk, turning back to the bin as though learning yoongi is gay is inconsequential. for some reason, yoongi holds his breath, waiting for whatever jeongguk is going to say next. across the shop, there’s a loud outburst of laughter—familiar, too, and he knows it’s hoseok and seokjin laughing about something. they’ve probably found a hilarious porn movie they want to bring back to the hotel for some light entertainment.

after a brief pause, both of them looking up at their friends having a grand old time, jeongguk quietly says, “me too.”

“hm?” asks yoongi, eyes turning to him.

jeongguk looks almost shy as he looks at yoongi, an expression that doesn’t fit with the rest of his demeanor. “i mean, i like boys, too. if that’s what you were saying at all, god, sorry, i shou—”

“i was,” says yoongi, more confident. “that’s what i was saying.”

jeongguk’s anxious expression melts into relief again, although he turns back to the bin as though he doesn’t want yoongi to see. “i also like girls,” he says. “not that it really matters, but if you’re being honest, then i want to be, too.”

maybe it’s an odd conversation to have in a sex shop. but maybe it makes sense; yoongi thinks of all they covered in their conversation at the bar—jobs and schools and songs they sing in the shower—but this never came up. it didn’t matter then, and maybe shouldn’t matter now. but yoongi finds himself grinning anyway, drunken mind storing such information away in case it becomes important. in any case, he knows what it means to be seen, to be understood. to feel as though he doesn’t have to hide some integral part of who he is, particularly when they’re surrounded by such sexual commodification.

part of him wants to ask more, but they’re interrupted by taehyung bouncing into their sides, breathless with laughter, and shoving a dildo into jeongguk’s face. it’s shaped like a tentacle, which yoongi didn’t even know existed, but it makes jeongguk shriek with laughter, and he tugs yoongi back toward the toys section where the rest of their group has gathered.

“i’m not saying i could definitely shove that up my ass,” says jimin as they get there, holding up one of the biggest dildos yoongi has ever laid his eyes on, “but i could definitely shove it up my ass.”

“pics or it didn’t happen,” calls taehyung, and jimin attempts to whack him with the dildo. taehyung hits him with the tentacle dildo, though, and then seokjin apparently feels the need to grab a dildo off of the shelf and start battling with the both of them.

“we’re going to get kicked out,” says namjoon. “or they’re going to make us buy the dildos, and i don’t know about you, but i don’t feel like carrying that around europe in my luggage.”

“you mean you don’t already have one in your luggage?” asks jimin, pausing from his dildo sword fight, and when namjoon pales, he starts laughing.

“you do?” asks jeongguk. “when the fuck have you found time?”

“you never know when you’re going to need it!” says jimin.

“god, is that why you told us to go out and explore on our own yesterday?”

“we’re staying in a hostel, jimin, jesus christ,” says taehyung, suddenly stepping away from him. “there are other people there.”

“i didn’t say i used a fucking dildo yesterday—”

“it sounds like you used a fucking dildo yesterday,” says seokjin, only to get the end of the massive one jimin is still holding in the face.

laughing, yoongi glances over at the employee running the cashier—a middle-aged woman who keeps staring at them. they’re not the only people in the store, but they’re certainly the loudest, and yoongi reaches out to tug on seokjin’s sleeve before he can start another fight with anyone. “i think it’s time to go,” he says. “didn’t you want to go to one of those shows?”

“oh, fuck yeah,” laughs seokjin, tossing the dildo he was holding on the shelf without even bothering to put it back properly. (namjoon tries, but his hand eye coordination is terrible even when sober and he ends up knocking down three other dildos in the process.) “let’s go, gang!”

“since when are we a gang?” asks yoongi as they begin exiting the store, stopping once or twice to laugh at some other ridiculous toy or video they’ve come across.

“since we decided to adopt the kids,” says hoseok. he has his arm around taehyung’s shoulders, tugging him in affectionately. “you can’t go through amsterdam’s red light district together and not come out the other end different people.”

“i’m worried we’ll even get out of here at all,” sighs jeongguk, stuck to yoongi’s side again, and yoongi gives him a knowing grin. somehow, it’s begun to feel like it’s the two of them against the world—or against their friends, at least, who are louder and rowdier and have much worse decision-making skills than yoongi prides himself on. or maybe they’re just several drinks ahead of jeongguk and yoongi, who have enough alcohol in their systems to no longer be the downers of the group.

he lets the others lead the way, this little mob moving through other groups of tourists wanting to have a taste of the red light district. to be honest, it’s not as red as yoongi would have expected and when he says as much out loud, jeongguk giggles. so that was a good thought.

they end up outside of a building advertising some sort of live sex show—silhouettes of curvy women on the poster, something about a night of entertainment that they simply can’t miss. yoongi can imagine it well enough—strippers, probably, and couples just fucking on a stage with sexy music in the background. if it’s part of the experience, he supposes he doesn’t mind it, but as jimin and seokjin excitedly demand that they all buy a ticket to watch, yoongi feels jeongguk leaning over to him.

“this is going to be like, super straight, isn’t it?” he asks.

yoongi’s lips curve upward. “i don’t think i’ve watched straight porn since i was fifteen and was trying to convince myself that i liked women.”

“we could always feign illness and go somewhere else.” with vague surprise, yoongi looks over at him, but jeongguk is watching him intently—he’s serious about it, about giving yoongi an out if he doesn’t want to be here. and it’s probably something that jeongguk wouldn’t mind seeing, purely from a sexuality standpoint. but he wants to help yoongi anyway.

“not unless you don’t want to be here,” says yoongi carefully. “i don’t mind, honestly. i don’t think anyone is going to be watching this to get their dick out, anyway.”

jeongguk snorts, ushering him forward as their friends head into the theatre. “only one way to find out.”

the show is a mistake, if only because each ticket comes with two free drinks and then every drink after that is ridiculously cheap, and everyone takes advantage of that for their own reasons. by the end of the hour long show, yoongi is drunk enough that he almost can’t walk straight, everything going a bit hazy as they spill out into the street and he hears his friends laughing as they rehash some of the ridiculous things they saw (the most amusing of which, by far, was namjoon getting pulled up on stage as part of a stripping act and looking so utterly terrified that yoongi genuinely almost pissed himself with laughter).

someone suggests they find another bar to go to—or another show or something, yoongi isn’t even paying attention, but it’s clear that their night is far from over.

》》》

“just take it.”

“i’m not going to take it!”

“it’s literally right there, just do it.”

“are you serious? i’m not stealing a fucking bike.”

“i’ll steal a fucking bike.”

“jeongguk, no,” says taehyung, reaching out and grabbing jeongguk’s arm before he can snatch the bike from the bike rack it’s currently parked in. yoongi has no fucking idea why they’re even debating whether or not to steal this bike when they could just rent one like they did with the other six, but apparently not many bike rental places are open at five in the fucking morning and the one they went to only had six.

“you’re not going without me,” hisses hoseok.

“ah, hyung,” says taehyung finally, eyes brightening. “you can just ride with me! you can stand on my spokes.”

there’s a beat, and then—“how did no one think of that before?” asks yoongi. “all of you really thought the only way to solve this problem was to steal a seventh bike.”

“you’re the one who suggested we get the bikes, dipshit,” complains seokjin. and yoongi can’t argue with that. it was his idea—although a mostly drunken idea, so maybe he doesn’t really want to take credit for it. he hasn’t had enough water to flush out the alcohol from his system and even though they started drinking something like six hours ago, everything is still hazy. he thinks he’ll be fine to ride a bike, but he’s not sure he should trust that. either way, he’d seen people riding their bikes around and had demanded they try it, too.

and sure, it’s five in the morning and they haven’t slept and haven’t stopped drinking since the karaoke bar, but—bikes. it’s part of the experience. apparently the bike culture is huge in the netherlands, trying to cut down on emissions or something. people have been passing them on bikes for a good half hour already, the early risers beginning to wake up.

hours ago, jimin said something about wanting to live like a local here.

so. bikes.

they clamber on, only a few people failing and falling over as they giggle. it only takes five minutes for everyone to finally get settled, hoseok on the back of taehyung’s bike like suggested, and then they all kind of look at each other. in hindsight, yoongi knows he’ll realize this was the worst possible idea he could have. but he’s actually having fun and wants to make the most of this night with these three wild strangers who are no longer strangers, somehow fitting seamlessly into their friend group as though they’ve been there all along.

“okay, where are we going?” namjoon finally asks.

“it was yoongi-hyung’s idea,” says hoseok. “he should lead.”

“does it look like i know where i’m going?” asks yoongi.

“it’s riding a bike, yoongi-yah,” says seokjin. “just don’t drive us all into a canal and it can’t be that bad.”

yoongi catches jeongguk’s eye. his bike is a bright pink to match his hair, and he’s foregone the helmet that the bike rental shop provided. it’s probably a mistake on their part to rent bikes out to people who are clearly not sober, but it’s five in the morning and the man behind the counter looked like he really doesn’t enjoy his job, so yoongi can’t blame him. but jeongguk grins at him, giving an encouraging little nod, and yoongi feels a thrill run through him.

if jeongguk believes in him, surely it can’t be so hard.

so he sets off on the bike, leading the group away from the alley they were hiding in while trying to decide on stealing a bike. he’s a little wobbly at first, coordination poor with the last remnants of the alcohol still in his system, but once he gets going, he glances back to make sure that everyone is following him. some of them are wobbly, too, but they seem to be doing fine, so he lets out a loud laugh before looking front again and biking properly.

it’s a beautiful morning in amsterdam. the sun has yet to properly rise, but the sky is a bare blue anyway, alerting them to what is coming next. it’s cool, but not cold, and yoongi breathes in deeply as he lets the breeze run over him, through him. he hears laughing from behind him, and some shouting, and feels lucky not for the first time on this trip. he does love his friends, misses the times when they would do stupid things like this all of the time.

and he knew that growing up and getting jobs and moving away from each other would mean they wouldn’t get to do this anymore. but he didn’t realize how much he missed it until he was back in the midst of it all, his friends’ laughter the soundtrack to his early mornings and late nights. he wants to stay here forever, wants to travel the world with them, wants to find every excuse to stay together.

he knows it’s not possible, but his mind works through it, trying to decide how he can convince his friends to do this again sooner rather than—

yoongi is slammed out of his thoughts by another bike swerving dangerously close to his, and he slams on the breaks as he skids out into the street, staring out at the man biking ahead of him who turns over his shoulder to shout something in a different language. he shakes his head, shocked to look around and realize that he’s led his friends right into a road, where the bike lane takes up half of it, and there are actual people who are sober biking here.

“what’s wrong, hyung?” calls taehyung as he and hoseok come to a wobbly stop next to him, someone else bumping into yoongi’s back tire. he looks down the lane to see a whole mob of bikers making their way toward them, someone at the front already yelling at them to get out of the way.

there’s a beat, and then someone says, “oh fuck.”

“go, go, go!” shouts yoongi, frightened by the onslaught of locals who are trying to bike somewhere without having fucking drunk tourists ruin their morning, and he tries to get onto his bike again, his foot slipping on the pedal once and twice, and—“jesus,” he mutters, scrambling now as he realizes that everyone else has already taken off down the lane.

“yoongi-hyung!” shouts jeongguk at the back of the pack, slowing down to look at him and waving at him wildly. yoongi glances back at the pack of cyclists, feeling for the life of him like he’s mufasa and he’s staring down a herd of wildebeests—and he finally manages to the bike moving, swerving to the right hard before he gets back on track and shakes himself out of his tipsy mind to take off down the lane.

he yells as he can hear the cyclists behind him, and why the fuck are they going so fast anyway—and jeongguk is laughing at him, and he can see the others ahead of them, shouting and laughing and swerving all over the goddamn lane. they’re a mess and no one is going to appreciate their antics. jimin accidentally rams his bike into namjoon’s up ahead, both of them falling over and creating a massive road block in the middle of the lane, and yoongi starts giggling so hard that he almost loses control of his own bike.

around him, a chorus of bells—the cyclists behind them catching up, trying to get around them. he can hear angry words in a different language and yoongi can’t stop laughing, doubled over on his bike as he keeps trying to pedal, but it’s no use. the cyclists have to go around them, seokjin almost crashing into one of them, and jimin seems to think he needs to give namjoon mouth to mouth to revive him from their minor mishap, and taehyung has to bike over to yoongi so he can keep him upright even with hoseok shouting at all of them from where he stands on the spokes of taehyung’s bike.

and it’s—ridiculous. it’s so ridiculous, all of them trying to bike with the locals at five in the morning when they’re still drunk and haven’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours. it’s ridiculous, how nothing ever seems to go right with them but that’s perfect, that’s why it’s good.

yoongi laughs so hard that he has to get off of his bike lest he crash, the mob of cyclists having passed them. he stumbles to the sidewalk as the rest of them try to help jimin and namjoon up, and seokjin has taken off a block away, yelling at the local cyclists in korean about being more welcoming to tourists.

he sits down on the curb, his bike abandoned beside him, and wipes at his teary eyes from laughter. he’s probably over-tired and has been for ages, but there’s still so much adrenaline in his body.

hoseok sits down beside him as yoongi finally stops giggling. “i genuinely thought you were about to get trampled there for a second.”

“yeah, me too,” he says. “they wouldn’t do that, right?”

“if you were biking in seoul and some dumbass drunk tourist was in your way, would you stop?”

yoongi thinks for a moment, and then snorts. “nah,” he says, and hoseok giggles, knocking their knees together. he looks out at this rag tag group of friends and strangers—jimin and namjoon have gotten up, bringing their bikes to the sidewalk, and now seokjin is biking back to them going the wrong way in this lane, narrowly missing a local biker who is just trying to get by. taehyung and jeongguk are nowhere to be seen. and yoongi thinks he likes this more than he thought he would, probably more than he should have.

quietly, he adds, “so i don’t think we’ll be able to do anything before our train leaves this afternoon.”

and hoseok giggles. and that’s good, too.

》》》

they finally manage to get back to yoongi, namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin’s hotel by just after six in the morning, after walking their bikes back to the bike rental shop only ten minutes after taking them out in the first place, and then somehow navigating the streets of amsterdam to get where they want to go. by that point, yoongi finally feels exhaustion hitting him, the alcohol having worn off enough to make him aware of just how long he’s gone without sleep and how tired his body is from running around the city since before midnight.

the laughter has long since died down as they ride the elevator up to their rooms in silence, but then yoongi thinks about what they looked like on those stupid bikes and begins giggling again, which sets everyone off. it’s certainly the wildest night he’s had in a long time; yoongi rarely ever goes out on a weekend, and when he does, it’s nothing like what he just experienced.

but he supposes that’s the point of going on a europe trip with three of his best friends.

finally getting into one of their rooms, everyone collapses on the available surfaces, and no one questions the fact that jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk have their own hostel to go back to. it was much farther away so logically, they should be here.

deciding to be the responsible adult, yoongi fishes water bottles out of their mini fridge and chucks them at the nearest people, and then grabs plastic cups from the bathroom to fill with water for the remaining people without bottles.

seokjin grunts as yoongi hands him a cup and then sits down beside him on the sofa. “thanks,” mumbles seokjin. “fuck, i want to sleep for two days.”

“getting too old to keep up with the kids, huh?” asks jimin. seokjin downs his cup of water in one go just to throw the cup at jimin, who has collapsed on one of the beds, but the cup only makes it halfway there before falling to the ground. no one moves to pick it up.

“seriously, though, that was fun,” says taehyung. a few other people grunt in agreement. yoongi thinks hoseok might have just fallen asleep on the floor, and reaches out to nudge him with his foot with no response, so he might have actually died.

yoongi sips at his own water before letting his head fall back against the sofa cushion. he’s going to have a wicked hangover when he wakes up later, assuming they do get to sleep. he’ll have to remember to put a do not disturb sign on the door to make sure housekeeping doesn’t wake them up.

after a long bout of silence in which someone definitely snores, taehyung adds, “so… round two?”

“fuck no,” says yoongi. “we have to catch a train at four. and i’ll be sleeping until three-thirty if that’s possible.”

“oh, shit!” jeongguk says suddenly, and yoongi cracks an eye open to see him sitting up from where he was half on top of jimin on the bed. “what time is it?” he scrambles in his pockets, likely looking for his phone, and yoongi furrows his brows at the frantic movement before someone tells him that it’s six-fifteen.

jeongguk curses again. “we missed our fucking train,” he says, smacking jimin’s thigh. “i knew we shouldn’t have booked it for six in the morning!”

“we can just get another one,” groans taehyung, he sounds on the verge of sleep.

“we barely had enough money for the first tickets,” says jeongguk. “there’s no way we can get more. unless one of you wants to let me know about a secret bank account you’ve been hiding this whole time.”

“maybe you can get cheap ones,” says namjoon from his spot on the other sofa. “if you google cheap tickets, you might find something. or you can try to get something back on the missed tickets?”

“jeonggukkie doesn’t like calling support,” mumbles jimin. “it scares him.”

“shut up,” says jeongguk. “it doesn’t help when we speak different languages.”

“where were you guys supposed to go in the first place?” asks yoongi curiously. they have a few early trains like that, too, although seokjin complained enough about having to get up early, which is why they booked some for afternoons like this upcoming train.

jeongguk groans again, flopping back against jimin. “london.”

just like that, yoongi feels an almost palpable buzz go through the air.

“no fucking way,” says seokjin. “that’s where we’re going today.”

taehyung lifts his head from the pillows, staring back at them with wide eyes. “really?”

“yeah,” says seokjin. “our train leaves at four and we’re there for a few days before going to paris.”

“no way,” says taehyung. “we wanted to go to paris, too. and italy.”

“we’re going to venice,” says seokjin.

“and lake como,” adds namjoon.

“what the fuck,” says jimin. “didn’t i say we should go to lake como?”

“it’s expensive as fuck,” says taehyung. “we weren’t even sure we’d have enough money to go to italy at all, but that was on our bucket list.”

everyone seems to perk up at this new development—other than hoseok, who is definitely asleep. they’re all watching each other like they’re waiting for something to happen, realizing that their itineraries are surprisingly similar. despite meeting at random in the middle of a foreign country, they seem to have similar interests, at least for locations for their vacations. and while the oldest four have everything planned out, the youngest three could easily adapt their schedules.

that’s what yoongi realizes, as the others start comparing what they were planning on doing in each location. that’s what yoongi realizes, when he remembers that jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk still missed their train to london and don’t want to remain stuck here. and he thinks about the wild night they’ve just had and how well all of them meshed together and how fun it was, despite yoongi being so reluctant about it. and he thinks about how he doesn’t want to say goodbye to them, not really, and how they’re all going in the same direction, so maybe he doesn’t have to—

and maybe he’s still kind of drunk, and maybe he’s sleep-deprived. but maybe this night has just taught him that it doesn’t hurt to be open to new experiences, doesn’t hurt to let loose once in a while. this trip isn’t about being safe. this is about taking chances and having fun, and he looks over at jeongguk, who is excitedly telling namjoon and seokjin about a famous perfumery he wants to visit in paris, and yoongi just blurts out, “why don’t you come with us?”

everyone falls silent, eyes turning to him.

“what?” asks jimin.

“why don’t you come with us?” repeats yoongi, feeling himself flush when he realizes the gravity of what he’s asking. “if our trips match up and we’re all going to same places, anyway, why don’t you three come with us, at least to london? we can split ways after that, but… i dunno.” he shrugs, glancing over at namjoon and seokjin. he realizes that maybe he shouldn’t have suggested it without asking them first, but he knows they won’t agree to something they don’t want. “i’m just saying, tonight has been… really good. and it was really nice meeting all of you, but it would be fun to travel together, even for a little bit. we might be able to get more tickets on the train we’re going to, and if you need help paying, i wouldn’t mind chipping in some.”

“are you sure?” asks jeongguk. “that’s a lot to ask.”

“it would be my pleasure, honestly,” says yoongi. “i mean—o-obviously, if everyone else is against it—”

“no, i think that’s a great idea,” says namjoon, and relief floods through yoongi. “hyung’s right—you’re going the same way as us and we’ve had such a good time that i don’t really want to let it go yet. if you three would rather leave it as is, then it’s up to you. but it would be really awesome.”

taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk all look at each other, appearing to have some sort of silent conversation with each other. after some time, yoongi realizes that he’s holding his breath, that he really does want this—and he’s not sure why he’s so adamant about this, but he doesn’t want to let them go. (maybe he just doesn’t want to let jeongguk go.)

before he can delve too much into that, though, jimin says, “okay.”

yoongi’s eyes snap to them—all three of them are grinning. “yeah?” he asks.

“yeah, it would be great,” says jimin. “as long as we can get tickets to london with you guys, obviously. but we can work out the details on the way there. we’ve had lots of fun hanging out tonight, so it would probably be nice to hang out when we’re, like… sober.”

“yoongi is a lot less fun when sober, i’ll tell you that,” says seokjin. yoongi glares at him.

“i guess we’ll find out for ourselves,” says jeongguk, and yoongi’s eyes turn back to him, hopeful—and jeongguk is grinning at him, a little worse for wear. he looks tired and still a little drunk, but happy. and yoongi is happy, too.

they work out the details quickly, searching for tickets on the train and managing to snag three that aren’t ridiculously priced. hoseok wakes up in the middle of them all excitedly discussing what they were planning on doing in london in the first place, plenty of them similar—museums and typical tourist sights, and the younger ones of course have a whole list of pubs that they want to hit up while in london. yoongi is already praying for his liver.

but they work it out, figure out what time to meet at the train station, and within only a few minutes, this entire trip has changed courses. despite the time only being six-thirty in the morning and no one having slept in ages, they’re all awake and filled with adrenaline, so jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk decide to head back to their hostel rather than staying; they have to grab their belongings, anyway, and they all promise to get some good sleep before meeting up in time to jump on the train.

once the door finally closes behind them, still shouting out goodbyes and promises not to be late, there is finally blessed silence. yoongi collapses on one of the beds, not even caring that it’s not his, and is prepared to sleep for the next six hours before he notes that it’s gone suspiciously quiet with the other three.

when he lifts his head, they’re all staring at him.

“what?” he asks.

“i can’t believe you suggested that,” says seokjin.

“god, was it a terrible idea?” asks yoongi. “if you didn’t want them to come with us, you should have said something before we bought their tickets and everything.”

“no, i mean,” laughs seokjin. “i can’t believe you suggested that. min yoongi, the unsocial caterpillar to my social butterfly. the one who was so adamant about not going out with them in the first place and was convinced it was all going to go to shit and kept complaining about college kids.”

yoongi rolls over, smashing his face into the pillow. “i don’t like where this conversation is going,” he says, voice muffled.

“i’ve never seen such character development in a single night,” agrees hoseok, awake enough now to be able to contribute. “any bets on what happened?”

“they make him feel young again,” says seokjin.

“you’re older than me,” says yoongi.

“i think he just had a really nice time,” says namjoon, “and realized that we were right all along about letting loose. or he could just tell that hoseok and taehyung got on really well.”

“oh, he’s a matchmaker now?” asks seokjin as hoseok tries to kick namjoon in the shin. but hoseok and taehyung did seem to get on well. although none of them are quite right about why he first reacted the way he did. the truth is that he did have a nice time and thought it would be a great idea to invite the other three along with them, but at the root of it, yoongi knows there’s something more.

it’s more than wanting to help them or wanting to hang out as a group of seven again or simply thinking it’s the best idea given the situation. instead, he thinks of—pink hair and half-hidden tattoos and a lilting voice calling yoongi-hyung in a way he’s never heard before, somehow, but wants to hear again again again.

they don’t need to know it.

so he just rolls over and shrugs up at the ceiling. “i do like them,” he says. “and i know all of you like them, too. and that’s what going on a europe trip is about anyway, right? meeting new people and experiencing new things and having fun. and they needed help anyway.” he’s not sure how everything will work once they get to london; they only booked two rooms with a total of four beds, and some of the tourist things they plan on doing have pre-booked tickets that he’s not sure they can get more of. and even if they could, jeongguk made it clear last night that the three of them are truly slumming it, trying to see as much as they can while spending as little money as possible because they don’t exactly have a lot to spend.

but yoongi doesn’t think any of his friends would mind picking up a tab for them, or squishing all of them into those two rooms, or figuring it out as they go. that’s part of the fun, after all. and yoongi has been chasing that for a while—an excuse to let go of rigidity and comfort, a chance to try something new.

this is something new. jeongguk is something new. and yoongi does like taehyung and jimin, despite his original reservations, but he would be lying to himself if he said that he was looking forward to london because of them.

“i’m not going to complain,” says hoseok. “it was a good idea, hyung. although i do feel like it’s going to be a total disaster in the best way.”

“we’re just not allowed to go out and get smashed like that every night,” says yoongi, pulling himself into a sitting position and watching his friends with a careful eye. “we’ll never get back to korea in one piece if we do. and i don’t care if they’re college kids. we have to be the responsible ones.”

“they’re only a few years younger than you,” scoffs hoseok. “you act like they’re children.”

“we walked past a church and taehyung tried to go in so he could drink the holy water,” deadpans yoongi. “they are children.”

hoseok has nothing to say to that. it’s seokjin who snorts and says, “it’ll be fine. if they wanna go off and do their own thing, that’s cool. namjoon won’t let us stray from his meticulously prepared schedule, anyway.”

“hey.”

“am i lying?”

“you said you were fine with the schedule!”

“but will they be?”

“i haven’t had enough sleep to have this kind of conversation,” says hoseok. “we can figure everything out later. if we’re done teasing yoongi about being in love with the new kids, i’m going back to my own room and knocking the fuck out. someone wake me up when we have to leave for the train.”

it’s the best idea anyone has had lately. they do have to leave for the train in just a few short hours, and yoongi plans on spending all of them sleeping. they won’t have much time to do anything other than settle into their hotel and maybe do a bit of nighttime sightseeing when they get to london—or god forbid, go out and get drunk again. he feels as though that’s what the kids will be up for, but yoongi can already feel himself beginning to get hungover before he’s even gone to sleep, and god knows his body isn’t used to such wild nights.

hoseok leaves the room, dragging seokjin with him, as they’re rooming together for this portion of the trip. yoongi grunts at them until they turn off the lights on the way out, casting yoongi and namjoon in darkness as they both crawl into bed—or onto bed, at least, since neither of them are picky about what state they fall asleep in at this point, as long as sleep is had.

they’re silent for a time. yoongi is on the verge of sleep, thinking namjoon has already fallen asleep from the way he’s breathing, and then he hears namjoon say, “hyung?”

yoongi grunts again to show he’s listening.

namjoon doesn’t immediately respond, and yoongi thinks he might have been sleep talking. but then there’s the rustling of the sheets, namjoon moving as though to face him. “you wanted them to come with us because of jeongguk, right?” he asks.

if yoongi was more awake, he would protest it, would be appalled by such a suggestion. as it is, his mind is sleepy and still a little drunk and he’s too tired to say anything other than, “what makes you think that?”

“i saw the way you were looking at him like, all night. you’re not very subtle when you’re interested in someone.”

“i’m not interested in him,” says yoongi, although—now that namjoon has mentioned it, he has to wonder if it’s the truth. it’s true that he finds jeongguk interesting and wants to know more about him, wants to spend more time with him. but as far as yoongi is concerned, it’s merely because jeongguk is a nice person and he would make a good friend. whatever namjoon assumes is going on beyond that, he must be sorely mistaken. “i just like him. i also like taehyung and jimin.”

“right,” says namjoon.

yoongi huffs, turning to face the wall rather than namjoon’s bed. “just go to sleep, namjoon-ah.”

“i’m just saying be careful. there’s nothing wrong with liking him, but we might only be with them for the next few days. you get attached really easily.”

it’s the curse of having a best friend like namjoon—of having known namjoon for years, since they were just teenagers and learning about themselves, the world. namjoon has seen him through crises, through triumphs, through failures. namjoon has seen him fall in love and get burned because of it, and yoongi knows namjoon is just looking out for him. he knows that namjoon can see those early warning signs of yoongi’s heart doing something reckless; he’s seen it enough.

but yoongi is also twenty-five years old. he’s known jeongguk for less than twelve hours.

“you don’t have to worry about me,” says yoongi, softening his voice because despite the flash of irritation, he loves namjoon’s hesitance, his good heart. “i’m not going to do something stupid and ruin our trip.”

“i’m not worried about the trip, hyung.”

yoongi fists his fingers in the covers thrown haphazardly over him. he lets it sit, that kind of concern. and then he whispers, “goodnight, namjoon-ah.”

namjoon says nothing more about it, offering a quiet, “night, hyung,” before silence falls upon them again. it’s only complete exhaustion that pulls yoongi under into sleep even if his mind is turning too quickly now, trying to decipher namjoon’s words. he’ll have time to worry about it later, when he can think straight in the first place.

》》》

“oh, thank god,” says namjoon when they spot taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk amongst the crowd at the train station, bright hair drawing attention. “i was worried they weren’t going to show up.”

“have a little faith, joon,” says seokjin, slapping him on the back before dragging his luggage across the platform to their three new friends.

“not like that,” says namjoon, trailing after him. “i was worried they’d get lost or sleep through an alarm or something.”

yoongi can only snort, following the two of them with hoseok. taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk all have massive backpacks rather than suitcases like the four of them, but yoongi supposes it makes sense with their traveling style. and even though it’s only been ten hours since they last saw each other, taehyung and jimin deal out a round of hugs when they all meet up, still beaming wide now that they’re about to start the next leg of their journey.

“having any second thoughts about this?” asks seokjin.

jimin shakes his head. “absolutely not,” he says. “who wouldn’t want to travel london with a bunch of old farts like you guys?”

“excuse you,” says hoseok, giving him a swift kick in the ass. “you’re only a year younger than me!”

“and don’t i look it!”

yoongi can only laugh as hoseok and jimin start squabbling, and he realizes that this really does make sense. the three of them fit in so well, like what namjoon, seokjin, hoseok, and yoongi needed was jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk to finish their group off, to make it right. it’s a sappy thing to think after only knowing them for a day and when he’s not even drunk anymore (although somewhat hangover, so he’ll be glad for the five-hour journey ahead). but it’s true, anyway, and no one has to know he’s thinking it.

eventually, namjoon checks the time and frowns, beginning to shove the group toward the train doors. “we’re going to be late if we don’t get on,” he says, even though there’s at least another twenty minutes before the train leaves—but namjoon is the one who has taken it upon himself to make sure they’re all on time and get where they need to go, so yoongi can’t even complain as he shuffles onto the train along with the others, stowing their luggage before finding seats.

there’s a palpable excitement in the air as they talk, already reminiscing about their night together and laughing at stories that will no doubt become infamous no matter if the seven of them stay in touch after this is over. sitting against the window, yoongi lets his head rest against the glass and grins as he looks out at the platform. eventually, the train begins moving, announcements overhead telling them information in a language that yoongi can’t understand, but it’s drowned out by the quiet chatter of his friends. for the time, he’s happy to sit back and listen, to let them take the reins.

even though he slept for most of the day, he’s still tired, letting the gentle rocking of the train as it pulls out of amsterdam lull him back into sleep. with heavy lids, he turns his head to look out at his friends sitting beside him, taking one last moment to admire this strange mix and match bag of characters he’s come to call his companions.

taehyung and hoseok are sitting next to each other across from yoongi, talking and quietly giggling about something. next to him, seokjin is leaning across the aisle to talk to namjoon as jimin shows them both something on his phone. and on the other side of the train, against the window, too, is jeongguk—but he’s not talking to anyone either, hanging back and watching the way that he was last night at the bar, too. just like yoongi.

it makes sense, somehow, that their beginning should be bookended like this—jeongguk and yoongi on the outskirts but still feeling every bit as part of this new company they’ve made. and feeling their own solidarity in that, some connection knowing that their friends have meshed so well, knowing that they don’t have to be worried about awkwardness or being unsure.

knowing that they’re together through it, and have been, and will be.

jeongguk catches his eye. although his hair is just as bright as it was last night—and this morning—he’s wearing a much comfier outfit: an oversized thrasher hoodie, the hood up and swooping over his neck and collarbones. his hair is a mess on his forehead, softer, like he took a shower and let it air dry before heading to the train station. he looks different from the man of last night, but yoongi still feels the same warmth swell in his chest—maybe even moreso now that he’s had some distance, and he knows that it wasn’t just the alcohol.

jeongguk’s lips curve upward just slightly, an almost confused lilt to his grin as they look at each other. yoongi grins back, sharing their own moment in the midst of their friends’ chaos; no matter what comes next, he feels as though that will be a common theme, a welcome reprieve. he and jeongguk against the world, finding moments of peace together when they need just a second away from everything else.

despite what namjoon warned him of earlier, yoongi already knows he wants to be those moments for jeongguk, wants to be open to it.

jimin turns to jeongguk, then, asking him a question or telling him something, and jeongguk’s eyes leave yoongi’s, attention turning to something new. but yoongi keeps watching him, letting his head rest against the window as it lulls him to sleep again, the quiet chatter of his friends as his background music. jeongguk’s bright smile as he talks to jimin is the last thing yoongi sees before his eyes fall shut, and off to london they go.

Chapter Text

“wow,” says seokjin, squinting upwards. “it’s a clock.”

“shut the fuck up, hyung,” says namjoon. “it’s big ben.”

“so it’s a big clock. why are we here?”

“was he like this for the first part of your trip?” asks jimin, and yoongi can only snort.

“unfortunately,” he says. “hyung doesn’t care much for sightseeing. he prefers to live in the moment and experience things rather than see them.”

“what’s the point?” seokjin demands. “if i wanted to see big fucking ben, i would have googled him. let’s get smashed instead.”

“it’s eleven in the morning.”

“so it’s seven in seoul. next.”

yoongi shakes his head, chuckling with amusement as he brings his camera to his face and points it at the massive clock tower looming over them. as he snaps a few pictures from different angles and with different buildings in the shot, he supposes seokjin has a point; they can just google pictures of many of the historic and famous sites that they plan to see while in europe. seokjin does like the experiences better than the sightseeing, but yoongi can’t help liking this part too—finally getting to witness something he’s only seen on the internet or through other people’s experiences. besides, he’s had photography as a hobby for years and he can’t help wanting to add to the millions of people capturing the landmarks of london.

he takes a few more pictures as he listens to his friends squabble about the values of seeing versus experiencing. he can’t decide who’s winning, mostly because seokjin keeps trying to convince them to go fishing in the thames river and taehyung is saying he’ll actually cry if he doesn’t get to see the van gogh’s sunflowers in the national gallery.

despite the arguing, yoongi can’t help thinking it was indeed the best idea to invite jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk along with them to london. after a much tamer night after arriving in london, they set out this morning to do some sightseeing according to namjoon’s meticulous plans for them. it’s a lot rowdier with seven people rather than four, and trying to find places to sit and eat or even room on public transportation can be a hassle, but in the end, the three younger members add a new dynamic to the group that yoongi has already begun to appreciate. they seem to balance the group out as a whole, complementing the silly and serious sides of the elder ones, and yoongi likes to think they have something to offer jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk in return.

if anything, they’re making sure the three of them actually see things beyond the inside of an array of different pubs.

when yoongi lowers his camera, he finds jeongguk standing on the other end of the group and watching him. even now, something swoops through yoongi as they make eye contact, deciding it really can’t be the alcohol that made him gravitate toward jeongguk when they first met. jeongguk, too, has a camera hanging around his neck and has been constantly snapping pictures of everything they pass—not even tourist things, just streets and buildings and even the clouds in the sky. he’ll have to ask jeongguk to show him some of his own photography.

after a second, jeongguk lifts his own camera, although it’s not pointed at the clock tower, but at yoongi himself—and yoongi just stares into the lens, sure that it makes a humorous shot: the other five huddled beside yoongi, still arguing about sightseeing, and yoongi standing just off to the side, knowing he could never take part in that. he’d prefer to enjoy big ben while they’re here, because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever come back.

yoongi sees the shutter go off a few times, and then jeongguk lowers his camera with a grin. he’ll tell jeongguk to delete it later; yoongi looks nothing short of a tourist, and not even an attractive one at that, with a cap on to hide his somewhat greasy hair, ripped jeans, and a long black coat that he’s wearing despite the fact that the temperature is surprisingly warm for london, which means he’s started sweating.

something tells him that this won’t be the only picture jeongguk will take of him, though. it’s better to do a massive purge at the end, then.

“either way,” namjoon is saying when yoongi finally tears his eyes from jeongguk, who has gone back to taking pictures of big ben, and pays attention to the conversation at hand, “we bought tickets for this dumb hop on hop off bus tour, and we’re not going to waste it. trust me, you’ll be glad you saw this stuff at all.”

“i’m not saying i don’t want to see it,” says seokjin.

“that’s literally exactly what you’ve been saying since we left the hotel,” says hoseok, and seokjin doesn’t smack him only because namjoon quickly interjects and reminds them that they have to get back to the bus stop to get back on the bus and move onto the next tourist site.

they do get back on the stop, claiming the first few rows of seats on top of the double decker bus so they can be free and have the wind in their hair, according to hoseok. yoongi sits against the ledge of the bus, taking pictures of the london cityscape as they pass and trying to enjoy it—just being here with the background chatter of his friends. namjoon and taehyung both insist on listening to the audio guides that are provided with the tour to make sure they don’t miss anything, the recorded voice pointing out things to see along the way as well as history and other facts that might be useful. seokjin, hoseok, and jimin, on the other hand, have taken to shouting random things at people on the street as they pass. jeongguk is somewhere in the middle, still trying to take pictures.

that’s how it goes for most of the morning and part of that afternoon as they continue their sightseeing tour of london’s iconic landmarks. they do a tour of the globe theatre, which turns out to be a massive mistake as jeongguk and jimin try to convince everyone to let them run up on the stage and re-enact the iconic death scene in romeo and juliet, which no one does, but then they decide to do it outside on the steps near the river, and end up accumulating a small crowd of other tourists, and the amount of second-hand embarrassment yoongi feels is absolutely appalling.

they do get some money out of it, though, tourists wanting to pay them as though they’re just another street act, and jeongguk and jimin treat the whole group to ice cream—or about three scoops shared between all of them, because everything in london is expensive. they see the shard, drive over london bridge, try to count the windows at buckingham palace, stop off at trafalgar square as namjoon tries (and mostly fails) to tell them some history lesson about it that he learned in his own research. it’s a whirlwind as they hop on and off the bus to speed to their next destination, cramming in as much sightseeing as they can within only a few hours. the younger ones demand they buy all sorts of stupid souvenirs and take bad pictures with the landmarks in them, claiming it’s a better photograph to prove that they were actually there—and actually there together.

they end up at the tower of london in the afternoon, which has something for everyone as they decide to split off for a while. jimin, namjoon, and taehyung head off to do a tour of the tower with audio guides, wanting to learn more about the history and what the tower was used for centuries ago, while the other four take the chance to see the crown jewels, something yoongi has been looking forward to since they decided to visit london in the first place.

as they begin to move through the exhibit, looking at all of the different crowns and other important belongings of kings and queens from centuries past, seokjin practically sticks his nose against the glass. “what if we tried to steal them?” he asks, and yoongi throws a look at the nearest guard in hopes that they didn’t hear.

“this isn’t a heist movie, hyung,” says hoseok. “they would lock you in this tower and starve you to death.”

“i don’t think they do that anymore,” comments jeongguk, standing a respectable distance from the crown he’s looking at.

“are you sure?” asks hoseok.

“you should have gone on the tour with the other three if you wanted to find out,” says yoongi. hoseok scowls at him, and yoongi just winks. in truth, the last thing they need is for anyone to get arrested while on a visit to england; he can’t imagine that would go over very well for any of them.

after a second, seokjin adds, “this one is kinda ugly anyway.”

“it’s like, seven thousand years old,” says yoongi. “the jewels have just rusted.”

“where are the ones that the queen wears? or kate middleton?”

“does kate middleton wear a crown?” asks hoseok.

“does it look like i keep up with english royalty? i can’t even keep up with korean politics.”

“he just wants something shiny,” says yoongi, knocking his elbow against jeongguk’s as hoseok and seokjin debate whether or not the newest royals wear the crown jewels. in all honesty, yoongi doesn’t really care about that—he just likes how these jewels look. he can’t imagine just how much all of the crown jewels are worth when combined.

eventually, they do get to see the modern crown jewels, which are much shinier and displayed much more nicely than the older ones. it’s a lot of diamonds, as far as yoongi can tell, and he can hear seokjin ohhing and ahhing at them as they make their way through, passing around other tourists. when yoongi sees the imperial state crown, he has to stop for a moment to admire it longer—that’s the sort of crown he always imagines when thinking of english royalty, purple and silver, red and blue jewels dotting it.

mesmerized, yoongi lifts his camera to take a picture of it, but has barely turned it on before there’s someone speaking sternly to him, and yoongi startles when he turns to see one of the guards approaching him with a rather firm look on his face. yoongi isn’t fluent in english, but he can tell enough that the man must be telling him that’s not allowed, and he considers, for a moment, feigning ignorance. it would be so easy, pretending that he just doesn’t understand—and he really does want a picture of it. all of the pictures he’s seen of these crowns don’t do them nearly enough justice as what he could.

the man keeps talking, though, and yoongi can pick up on a handful of words that he’s familiar with. it’s only once he turns his camera off and lets it hang around his neck again that the man finally leaves him alone, and a few other tourists stare at him before he awkwardly turns back to the crown.

he can hear seokjin and hoseok giggling on the other side of the room, and he throws them a glare before he notes a presence on his other side; he dreads the guard returning and trying to tell him again, but when he turns, it’s jeongguk.

“you’re not allowed to take pictures,” he says.

yoongi snorts. “you don’t say.”

“he said you have to delete any pictures that you’ve already taken.”

“you understood him?”

“yeah, i’m fluent in english,” says jeongguk, shrugging like it’s not a big deal. “and i’m trying to learn japanese, but i’ve kind of been slacking on my studies.”

for some reason, this both surprises and does not surprise yoongi at all. of course jeongguk would be bilingual and on his way to being trilingual. after a second, yoongi says, “so you’ve been able to read all of these signs and understand all of these guides and tourists and everything but you haven’t said anything?”

jeongguk’s grin is a little sheepish, averting yoongi’s gaze as he walks around the glass case containing the crown. “it’s kind of fun for everyone to struggle together and pool our knowledge to figure stuff out,” he says. “jimin and taehyung know i’m fluent, so they usually rely on me to get us places when we’re in predominantly english-speaking countries. but i think half of the fun of traveling together is getting lost and confused and making the most of it anyway.”

“so what, sometimes you just pretend not to know english?”

“only when it’s not important,” says jeongguk, his cheeks flaring a little as he glances at yoongi. he keeps walking down the length of the room and yoongi follows him on the other side of the glass case containing more crowns, although he’s not really paying attention to the jewels anymore. “sometimes we make a game of it. we’ll get an map in a language that none of us are fluent in but know a bit of and see what happens.”

yoongi can’t help staring at him. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”

jeongguk giggles. “you’re like namjoon-hyung, huh? you like having your plans and your itineraries and you like sticking to them to make sure you do everything right. but i think letting loose and just going with the flow is fun sometimes, too.”

“we can’t really afford to get lost when we have time-sensitive tickets to things.”

“you didn’t have to get those tickets.”

“but this is fun, too,” protests yoongi, gesturing to the glass case of crowns. “isn’t it?”

there’s something mischievous in jeongguk’s gaze as they come to the end of the room and meet in the middle. “of course,” he says. “but maybe if we decide to keep traveling together, you can get lost with me once or twice. just to see what happens.” and then he winks and turns away from yoongi, joining seokjin and hoseok in the next room with the next display of crowns and jewels.

and jeongguk is right—yoongi likes his plans, likes having control of everything he’s involved in. he’s had a five-year plan since he was fifteen years old and has stuck to it to make sure that he’s on track with his life. even small things like planning a vacation lets him exert his control over what he does. and while he likes to think he can relax and do silly things like what jeongguk does, maybe there’s something he can learn from the younger ones here.

of course, he still doesn’t want to get lost in a foreign city where most people don’t understand a word of korean. but maybe they can do other things.

after they get their fill of the tower of london and grab dinner at a pub—although they don’t get more than a beer each considering it’s too early for that kind of night yet—they face one last tourist attraction for the day. it’s one that almost everyone but yoongi is excited for, and it has nothing to do with the debate about sightseeing versus experience.

when they had decided to go to london and were brainstorming about what attractions were must-sees or must-dos for them, hoseok had immediately demanded it—the london eye. and of course, yoongi knows the london eye is one of the city’s most iconic landmarks and must-do attractions for tourists. the london eye is in every movie featuring london, every ad, every merchandise of the cityscape. yoongi knows that millions of tourists flock to the london eye every year, europe’s tallest ferris wheel.

he knows they have to visit it.

but yoongi also knows he’s fucking terrified of heights.

he keeps mum as the others discuss the london eye on their way there, as they get into line with the tickets they already bought, as it slowly moves forward. it takes a whole half hour for just one revolution of the london eye, and he knows they’ll be in an enclosed space, but as he looks up at the massive contraption, he can’t help feeling dread in the pit of his stomach. the thing is, he can still see everything—and that’s kind of the point, being able to look at london from so high up. but yoongi had enough trouble sitting in the aisle seat on the airplane over to europe, so he doesn’t need to ride a stupid ferris wheel to see more.

when they’re finally close enough to the front that they’ll be in the next capsule—along with a handful of strangers, since twenty-five people can fit in a capsule at a time—seokjin finally catches yoongi’s eye, and it’s with something mischievous in his gaze. yoongi has been fidgeting for the past half an hour, trying to talk himself into doing this; he can just sit on his phone the entire time and never look up. apparently it moves so slowly that he might not even feel it, so he can pretend. yoongi is very good at pretending.

but seokjin is looking at him like that, and yoongi just knows he’s about to do something very, very bad. yoongi throws him a warning look, but it’s too late—seokjin is already turning to namjoon and hoseok, a thoughtful expression on his face as he says, “wait, isn’t yoongi afraid of heights?”

“hyung,” yoongi hisses.

“yoongi-hyung is afraid of heights?” taehyung asks immediately, turning to him. “really? why didn’t you say anything? we don’t have to go on if you’re afraid of it.”

“i’m not afraid of it,” yoongi insists, frowning. “i’m just… not a fan. i don’t think anyone loves heights or being in a tiny cannister five hundred feet in the air when something could easily break.”

“i do,” mutters jimin.

“it’s not going to break, hyung,” says hoseok. “millions of people go on the eye every year and nothing has ever gone wrong. but if you really don’t want to go, it would be fine.”

“i’m not going to make everyone get out of line when we’ve waited this long,” says yoongi, glaring at seokjin again. “i’ve made my peace with this and i can deal with it. i’m an adult.”

“if he starts crying, though, mind your business,” says seokjin.

“i’m not going to cry.”

“but if you do—”

“i’ll throw you into the river right now.”

“look, it won’t be that bad,” says jimin, looking up at the eye again as their capsule moves closer to the ground, the people in front of them preparing to step on once those inside get out. “you can just stand in the middle of everyone and you don’t even have to look out the windows.”

“for a whole half hour?” asks taehyung.

“i have an idea,” says seokjin again, and yoongi knows that he’s been planning this the whole goddamn time. he was just waiting to do something to fuck yoongi over for the fun of it, just to add to the experience of the trip, and yoongi dreads whatever is going to come out of his mouth. “we just have to make sure that he’s distracted enough not to notice the height or feel the fear, you know? like when you’re injured so you stab yourself in a different area to take away the pain.”

“i don’t think that’s how it works,” says namjoon.

“hush, joon-ah,” says seokjin. “i’m right and you know it. if yoongi is focusing on something else other than the fact that he’s a billion feet in the air, it’ll be fine.”

he’s still got that shit-eating grin on his face, and yoongi glances at the capsule warily as it finally reaches the ground and the people inside file out, leaving room for new passengers to step in. “and what do you suggest?” he asks, knowing there’s no way out of it.

“i know when i’m scared of something—which is rare, as i’m the bravest person any of you have ever met, but when i was like, a child and had fears—what helps is… someone holding my hand.”

yoongi stares at him.

“so,” adds seokjin, “someone just needs to hold yoongi’s hand for the entire half hour, and he should be fine. any volunteers?” yoongi sees several people open their mouths—namjoon and hoseok both, since yoongi’s friends are always willing to help him out when he needs it, but also jimin and taehyung, who no doubt want to make sure yoongi enjoys the trip as much as they are. before anyone can say anything, though, seokjin immediately continues, saying, “no one? sad. jeongguk, why don’t you do it?”

silence drops over the group. yoongi keeps staring at seokjin, because he’s too afraid to look at jeongguk and see his reaction—and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly nervous about that anyway, because he and jeongguk hardly know each other. if anything, they’re merely new friends. holding jeongguk’s hand should realistically be no different from holding namjoon’s or taehyung’s.

(yoongi is very good at pretending.)

he doesn’t even think holding someone’s hand will help in the first place, and he recognizes seokjin’s stupid ploy for what it is—but as yoongi says, “that’s really not necessary,” he hears jeongguk say, “okay.”

yoongi’s head snaps to jeongguk, then, eyes wide. their gazes meet for a moment before the person manning the front of the line says something to them, and yoongi understands enough to know they’re supposed to get onto the stupid ferris wheel now. he can’t say anything more as they’re herded onto the capsule, only catching seokjin wiggling his eyebrows at yoongi. he ends up somewhere near the middle, immediately taking a seat on the little bench, and keeps his eyes firmly trained on his feet rather than have to face either the impending doom of being so high above london or jeongguk.

thankfully, none of the others say anything, rather flocking to the windows to look out at the river and discussing what they can see from here, including plenty of attractions that they discovered earlier in the day. but then he feels someone sit next to him, and yoongi has to close his eyes to mentally prepare himself for it.

when he opens his eyes again, he sees jeongguk’s hand held out between them, palm up, like he’s asking for something. yoongi flushes involuntarily, eyes turning upward to see jeongguk is grinning at him—not a shy, soft grin, but something closer to seokjin’s, like there are teasing words just behind those lips.

when yoongi doesn’t say anything, jeongguk giggles, wiggling his fingers. “c’mon, hyung,” he says. “it’ll make you feel better.”

“i really doubt that,” says yoongi.

“you don’t want to hold hands with me?” asks jeongguk, tilting his head a bit like a curious puppy. yoongi has to look away to save himself, but the only place to look is out of the windows, and that’s a mistake when he sees how high they already are above the ground, and then he looks to jeongguk’s waiting hand, which is also a mistake considering his first thought is that he has really nice hands, long fingers, and yoongi does want to hold his hand.

he awkwardly adjusts his hat. “it might help with the heights thing, but that’s not what i’m worried about at the moment,” he mutters. then, a little louder, “i do like holding hands, though.”

“it’ll calm you down.”

“i am calm.”

“your face is all red.”

“it’s not from the heights thing, trust me.”

but jeongguk doesn’t really tease him, not beyond that. he just keeps his hand there, waiting, ever patient. they’ve only known each other for a day or two, and maybe yoongi can admit that jeongguk is really very pretty and his hands are nice and he’s fun to talk to. yoongi isn’t going to let himself make this awkward, so he lifts his own hand before thinking better of it and glancing up at the others in the capsule instead.

the strangers are obviously not paying attention, too busy in their own conversations or looking out at the view. he’s more worried about their friends, but none of them seem to have even noticed that jeongguk and yoongi are sitting together—or are doing a good job of pretending they’re ignoring it.

yoongi worries at his lip for a moment, and it isn’t a big deal. he and jeongguk are friends. but god knows that his friends have a penchant for teasing him, especially when it comes to pretty boys that he happens to talk to or have any sort of physical contact with, even if it’s just brushing shoulders. no doubt they’ll tease him whether or not he bites the bullet, so yoongi finally lets out a huff of air through his nose and turns back to jeongguk, quickly taking his hand and linking their fingers together before decidedly not looking at jeongguk, warmth and embarrassment rapidly spreading through him.

in all honesty, when he looks out at the slowly moving city, climbing higher and higher, it surprisingly is easier to deal with. but only because somehow the height seems like a better alternative to dealing with whatever stupid things his emotions are doing now that he’s holding hands with jeongguk.

seokjin was right. fucking bastard.

they don’t say much over the next half hour, making small conversation here and there about what they see of london. although yoongi still doesn’t like heights and would rather be on the ground, holding jeongguk’s hand does manage to calm him down enough that there’s no panicking and he might even say he sort of enjoys it. at the highest point of the ferris wheel, yoongi lets out a shaky breath, and jeongguk shuffles closer until their thighs are pressed together, tightening his hold on yoongi’s hand. on the way down, he does more than just that—he takes yoongi’s hand into both of his, tracing the lines of his palms and over his knuckles, distracting yoongi from the view.

at one point, yoongi sees seokjin look over at them with amusement all over his face, and yoongi mouths shut up before seokjin can even begin to say anything. yoongi knows he won’t hear the end of it tonight, since they’re rooming together—along with hoseok and namjoon, since they only rented two hotel rooms and decided to just stick jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk in one. hoseok and namjoon will of course join in on the teasing, but for now, yoongi is just going to enjoy the relative peace, and jeongguk leaning over, knocking their shoulders together as he softly says, “your love line suggests you’re good at creating a romantic atmosphere.”

seokjin winks as though he heard. yoongi takes a deep breath and turns his attention back to jeongguk, whose hands are gentle and kind, whose heart is just the same.

》》》

“yoongi-hyung, any luck?” asks namjoon, and yoongi shakes his head as he looks up from his phone, meeting namjoon’s frowning face.

“me neither,” says jimin, having broken out the laptop he brought with him. “the only tickets are super expensive and also in the nosebleeds, somehow.”

“so there’s just the one that taehyung found,” says namjoon. “but we need three, dammit.”

yoongi chews on his thumbnail as he looks back to his phone, refreshing the page in hopes of something popping up that won’t put any of them into debt. for the first time, they’ve run into problems with adding three more members to their party at the last second. although they could easily grab tickets for huge tourist attractions, squeeze more people into hotel rooms, and move through the city with ease even with seven people rather than four, not everything they planned to do can accommodate the extra numbers.

this time, it’s a musical in the west end. all four of them had been in agreement about it, since they’re in london, but obviously only bought four tickets. they’ve been searching for extra tickets so all seven of them can go to the show, and although there are some available, they’re far more expensive than what the group originally paid—all but one. they could have five tickets, leaving two members of the group shit out of luck.

hoseok sighs, leaning back in the armchair he claimed the moment they walked into the hotel room. “we don’t all have to see the same thing?” he suggests. “we might get cheap tickets to a different show if not everyone wants to see this one.”

“that would kind of suck,” says taehyung. “it’s better to go to the same show and then we can talk about it after or whatever.”

“yeah, i’d rather we all go to the same one,” agrees namjoon.

“well, we don’t have much choice, do we?” asks hoseok.

yoongi absentmindedly gives himself a hangnail, a short spark of pain running through his thumb as he looks down to see a piece of skin sticking out from the side of his nail. as much as he wanted to go to the show, since he was the one who brought up going to see a musical in the first place, he can’t help seeing an easy solution for this: if they can only get five tickets to the show and no one wants to go to a different one, then two people will just have to hang back.

his eyes skirt to jeongguk.

“i’m feeling kind of tired,” says yoongi before he can think too much about it, and all eyes turn to him as he interrupts the debate. “i don’t mind staying back so we don’t have to pay a crazy amount for another ticket.”

“hyung,” frowns namjoon. “you really wanted to see this.”

“i know,” he shrugs, “but it’s not the end of the world. and i’d rather give up my seat so one of the kids can see it since they sound pretty excited about it.” he lifts his chin toward jimin and taehyung, who both raved about going to the show with the older four once they found out the plan for the day in london.

“that’s not fair, though,” says jimin. “you bought the tickets in the first place and you shouldn’t have to miss it just because we ended up tagging along with you. honestly, if anyone is going to hang back, it should be taehyung, jeonggukkie, or me. or all three of us.”

“don’t be ridiculous,” says yoongi. “like i said, i’m feeling tired anyway, so i’d probably fall asleep halfway through it and waste my ticket.” that’s not quite true; although he is feeling a little tired from the day of exploring and walking around the city, it’s nothing that a short rest now won’t fix, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from watching a musical. but he’s determined now to give up his ticket for one of the others.

when he looks over at namjoon, yoongi is sure he knows that. but the more important bit is making sure that jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk enjoy this trip too and don’t feel left out just because all of this is last minute. and he doubts that the three of them would have been willing to cough up the money for a show anyway, considering how they were traveling prior to meeting the older ones.

“well, if you’re sure,” says jimin, eying yoongi before yoongi nods, showing he’s not going to take it back. “then we just need to find one more ticket. maybe we can call the theatre and see if we get better results than trying online?”

“actually,” says jeongguk suddenly, a little louder than necessary, and yoongi’s eyes skirt to him almost—hopefully. “i’m feeling kind of wiped out, too, and someone should keep yoongi-hyung company, so, um. i’ll skip out, too.”

yoongi tries to ignore the way a spark runs through him at that, strangely thrilled with the outcome. he would love spending more time with any member of the party if they were to give up a spot, but he can’t deny that he’s pleased it’s jeongguk. he sees his own friends enough and has been spending the last week with them in close quarters, and besides, he’s been wanting to talk to jeongguk one on one more since their first conversation in the karaoke bar in amsterdam, but hasn’t gotten the chance since everything they’ve done last night and today have been as a group.

he’s not sure he’s doing a good job of hiding his pleased grin, because jeongguk looks over at him and grins back, even as the others protest jeongguk’s choice and try to convince him that they’ll hang back instead to make sure he gets to see a show. jeongguk refuses to go back on the offer, though, saying that he’ll have plenty more opportunities to see musicals or broadway shows but he’s not sure about the rest of them since they’re so old, and between pillows being thrown at him and seokjin yelling about how five years isn’t that big of an age gap, they finally let it go.

within half an hour, yoongi and jeongguk are shooing the other five out of the room, wishing them a good time as they promise to bring back souvenirs and order from the bar in their honour, and then finally it’s just—quiet. peaceful. yoongi does love his friends, but he’s an introvert through and through, and after spending all day with five of the loudest people he’s ever met, he’s glad to have a moment of peace.

it doesn’t last long, once he remembers he’s not actually alone and turns around to see jeongguk collapse on one of the beds with a loud sigh. “fuck,” he groans to the ceiling. “i love them very much, but i need a second.”

yoongi can’t help but laugh as he agrees, making his way over to the other bed and sitting down on it. “part of me just wants to go to sleep,” he admits, “but i also feel like we need to take full advantage of being alone.” after a second, he realizes what that sounds like and immediately flushes, prepared to take it back before jeongguk lifts his head to look at yoongi and asks, “set up booby traps for when they come back?”

“not really what i was thinking.”

“cut auspicious holes in all of their clothes?”

“also no.”

“somehow get super cheap tickets to a different show that they all wanted to go to and rub it in their faces?”

“why are you so hellbent on doing something mean to them?”

jeongguk giggles, letting his head fall back against the bed. “i’m kidding,” he says. “mostly. i do kind of want to cut holes in some of taehyungie-hyung’s shirts because if i have to see those godawful patterns one more time, i’ll actually poke my eyes out.”

yoongi snorts, leaning back on his elbows. he feels as though this is the only real opportunity he’ll have to spend time with jeongguk with just the two of them; he has no idea if he, along with taehyung and jimin, will want to continue travelling with them once they leave london and go to paris instead, but even if they do, the whole point is to travel together. they’ve allotted days or even hours out of their schedule for everyone to go off on their own, since they do have their own interests, but even then, that doesn’t mean jeongguk will want to spend that time with yoongi. he feels like this is it, somehow—he needs to make the most of it.

he watches jeongguk’s figure for a moment, tilting his head a little at how jeongguk’s shirt has ridden up to reveal just a sliver of his stomach. “do you wanna get a drink?” yoongi asks, his mouth moving before his brain has time to decide what to say.

jeongguk sits up. “again?” he asks. “i really don’t think i can do another night like the other—”

“oh god, not like that,” laughs yoongi. “i really mean just a drink. i thought it would be nice if we just… hung out for a bit and i don’t really want to do it here, so we might as well go to a pub or something.” suddenly he feels a little unsure, as though jeongguk didn’t offer to hang back so that he could spend time with yoongi instead.

but then jeongguk grins, and it takes over his whole face, makes him look soft and bright. “okay,” he says. “i’d love to get a drink with you in a lovely london pub, yoongi-hyung.”

they wander through the streets near their hotel until they find a pub they like that isn’t crowded and will allow them to have a low-key night. it’s a small pub with low lighting, what seems like only a few locals currently drinking at the tables and bar. yoongi and jeongguk choose a table near a back corner of the pub, away from where any other tourists might want to sit should they choose to spend their evening in the pub as well.

picking up the drink menu, jeongguk purses his lips as he immediately flips to the cocktail section, and yoongi can’t help laughing before jeongguk looks up at him with furrowed brows. “is that what you always drink?” asks yoongi.

“what?” asks jeongguk. “i like stuff that actually tastes good and looks good. they only have like, one cocktail.”

“this isn’t one of those bars, jeongguk,” says yoongi, snatching the menu from jeongguk’s hands and putting it down. “you’re too much of a college kid having to mix your drinks like that.”

“i am a college kid.”

“let me teach you how to drink properly.”

yoongi doesn’t give jeongguk a chance to protest before he’s ordering two whiskeys for them, and although he’s sure jeongguk has done plenty of shots in his time, this is different. he has to laugh at the look on jeongguk’s face when the bartender brings them their drinks, tumblers with a few fingers of amber alcohol in them, and nothing to mix it with.

“don’t look so scared of it,” says yoongi, pushing one of the tumblers toward jeongguk.

“i’m not scared of it,” says jeongguk, and yoongi swears he’s pouting. “i’m just not used to sipping shit like this. does it actually taste good?”

“i mean, i guess,” admits yoongi. “you’ll appreciate it the more you drink it.”

“you sound like my mom saying i’ll like vegetables the more i eat them.”

“you don’t eat your vegetables?”

“i meant when i was a kid—”

“sure.”

“hyung,” giggles jeongguk, giving him a gentle shove. yoongi can’t help laughing along, glad to know that he can tease jeongguk just as well as jeongguk can tease him—or fluster him. it only takes a bit longer to convince jeongguk to actually try the drink, and when he does, only after yoongi takes a sip first, he can only hold a straight face for a moment before his nostrils flare and his lips curve into a frown, clearly not pleased.

yoongi laughs again. “that bad?”

“oh god, i’m so sorry,” coughs jeongguk. “i really tried to like it, but i can’t savour it. i need something with juice in it.”

“you’ll learn,” says yoongi, giving jeongguk’s shoulder a gentle bump. “we’ll just have to go out for more drinks like this.” that, of course, runs with the assumption that their last day in london tomorrow won’t also be their last day together—but jeongguk doesn’t say anything about that, just grins a little before he picks up the menu and asks if he’s allowed to order one of his college kid drinks now.

they make small talk as they order a few drinks, everything surface level—talking about the things they saw today, what they think they’re missing since they’re not at the show, admitting that they would rather be here. in truth, yoongi does want to get to know jeongguk more without all of it being about wild partying and running through the city causing trouble.

a few drinks are just enough to put yoongi in a warm sort of mood, not hazy but fuzzy—at least on the inside. he leans back in his chair, grinning as jeongguk tells him about some conversation he overheard while they were on the tube. maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe just how good he feels, but yoongi finds his eyes wandering. jeongguk has pushed his sleeves up, revealing the ink on his arms, and yoongi licks his lips absently, forgetting to listen to the conversation as he tries to get a good look at them.

jeongguk notices, pausing his story as he puts his drink down and asks, “do you want to look at them?”

far from being embarrassed about being caught, yoongi says, “i am looking.”

“i mean closer.” jeongguk holds his arms out, laying them against the table as yoongi takes the invitation and leans closer, running his finger down some of the lines on jeongguk’s arms. he can see some script, lyrics that he vaguely recognizes, and various animals, nature scenes, all sorts of images curling down his arms.

“they’re really nice,” comments yoongi. “do they all have special meanings?”

“most of them,” says jeongguk. “sometimes i just get something because i think it’s pretty.” he pauses and then adds, “i have this massive one down my side which you obviously can’t see right now, but it’s like—the torso of a skeleton and then where the head should be, a crown is hung on the vertebrae. that was mostly because i thought it was cool.” yoongi feels like there’s more to it, but maybe they haven’t quite gotten there yet in their friendship.

instead of pressing for meanings, yoongi asks, “is this why you can barely afford to stay in a hostel on this trip? you’ve been spending all your money on ink.”

jeongguk laughs. “it’s worth it,” he says. “most of these will be with me for life, and as much as i would love to travel and experience a lot of different things, i like getting tattoos more. besides, i can travel when i’m old and retired and have money from my illustrious career.”

yoongi can’t help but snort, turning one of jeongguk’s arms over to admire the tattoos on the other side. “speaking of which, will people even want to hire you with this many tattoos?”

he doesn’t mean for it to sound judgmental, but when he glances up at jeongguk’s face, the younger man is still grinning as he shrugs. “i can cover them up,” he says. “and i don’t have any on my hands, face, or neck so that should be okay, i think. besides, lots of people are getting tattoos these days, so employers might not have many options if they want to cut out everyone who has a tattoo or piercing.”

“what do you want to do, anyway?” asks yoongi. “you mentioned that you were applying for schools outside of korea, but i don’t think you ever said what in.”

“ah, yeah,” laughs jeongguk, rubbing at the back of his neck with the arm yoongi doesn’t currently have in his grasp. he seems a bit embarrassed to say, “i want to get into nursing.”

admittedly, it’s not what yoongi would have imagined jeongguk in. he blinks in surprise and then immediately breaks out into a smile, though. “that’s really great,” he says. “i admire people who want to work in healthcare because it’s such a needed field.”

“i wasn’t ever really sure what i wanted to be when i grew up,” says jeongguk. “i have lots of interests, but nothing that i really wanted to make into a career. like… i could be a singer, probably, but going through all that training is something i’d rather not do. or i could maybe get into photography or video editing, but i like keeping that as a hobby because i’m afraid i would start hating it if i made it my job. when i started university, i just took some general classes in hopes of figuring it out, and then i kind of noticed that i’d become like, the dorm nurse anyway.” jeongguk laughs, eyes lighting up like he’s remembering it. “i always had a stacked first aid kit and medication and stuff, and everyone would come to me when they needed help with something. and i loved taking care of them, you know? and i realized that i wouldn’t mind doing that for the rest of my life, so i thought i might as well apply for nursing programs.”

he seems sheepish as soon as he’s finished talking, like it was too much too fast—but yoongi loves listening to him talk, a fond grin on his face as he trails his fingers down jeongguk’s arm to his palm and pressing at the pads of his fingers. “i love that,” says yoongi. “i think you’ll be a really good nurse.”

“you don’t think it’s weird, though?” asks jeongguk. “some people don’t think it’s a good idea since i’m a guy and all, but my parents have been really supportive, so i don’t know.”

“jeongguk, don’t listen to them,” says yoongi. “this is your life we’re talking about. if you find something you love and want to do for the foreseeable future, you should do it. being happy is more important than listening to some old-fashioned and sexist view that only men should be doctors and only women should be nurses.” he’s heard that opinion himself plenty of times, but it would break his heart to know it was holding jeongguk back from doing what he wanted with his life.

jeongguk sighs, catching yoongi’s fingers with his. “i guess,” he says. “it’s just exhausting sometimes, always hearing that i’m doing something wrong. if it’s not my chosen career, it’s being bisexual or having tattoos or whatever. i just want people to leave me alone.” he punctuates the statement with a strained laugh, like he’s trying to make light of it, but yoongi sees through it. he watches jeongguk’s face, heart aching for him—for this beautiful young man, who is passionate and friendly and caring, who has so much life ahead of him and has already come up against plenty of obstacles that he shouldn’t have to face.

for the first time, yoongi feels their four-year age difference properly, knowing that he’s faced similar problems and still hasn’t come out on the other side, but at least has four more years of experience with dealing with it.

so he says, “i know what you mean.” he’s not sure he can offer much advice, but at least jeongguk isn’t alone—and his eyes snap up to yoongi’s with something vaguely pleading in them.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” shrugs yoongi. “i mean, i’m gay, so i certainly know all about that side of things. i don’t have tattoos and crazy hair colours, but when i decided i wanted to go into news and entertainment and become a news anchor, there were plenty of nasty comments about it. but the truth is that there will always be nasty comments no matter what you do or who you are. and i know that’s not comforting in the slightest, but people will judge you and tell you that you’re a bad person no matter what choice you make. someone will always find something wrong with you. so the only thing you can really do is just… be yourself.” he cringes as he says it. “god, that sounds so cheesy. but i do think it’s the truth. your happiness is what matters, and i know that you want to make your family proud and whatnot, but please don’t sacrifice your own well-being for someone else’s, no matter who they are.”

yoongi knows it’s not always so easy. he knows where jeongguk comes from, has grown up in that culture and with those expectations, and he knows that the world is never kind. he knows that he has sacrificed his own well-being so many times because being authentically himself would only bring pain upon his family, his career, maybe even himself in the long-term. but yoongi wants to believe that one day they won’t have to worry that being themselves means hurting someone else in this twisted world where being themselves is somehow wrong.

as he watches, jeongguk’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows tightly, loosely tangling their fingers together as he stares at their hands rather than yoongi. “i wish it was that easy,” he whispers. “it’s not fair that we can’t just—exist. it shouldn’t be this hard.”

“i know,” says yoongi. “but i like to believe it’ll get easier. or maybe we’ll just learn not to care.” that isn’t easy, either. sometimes yoongi tells himself that he doesn’t care, that any comment by a family member or the rest of the world won’t hurt so badly, but he’s always felt everything and felt it strongly. the difference is that he tries not to let it affect him, but he’s always on the learning curve.

after a second, he adds, “is that why you’ve applied to schools outside of korea?”

jeongguk finally look at him, almost alarmed. “god, no,” he says. “no, i don’t want to run away from korea or my family. i love it—it’s my home. it’s my place. and people are going to judge me no matter what country i’m in anyway. i guess that has more to do with me just being tired of the same old stuff all the time. i want to spend my life in korea, but i want to experience more things and see more stuff before i have to settle down.” he shrugs, laughing a little. “sounds like a real college kid thing to say, you know. but i want to know what the rest of the world has to offer. and without jimin-hyung and taehyung-hyung at school with me, i thought it would be a good idea to have a fresh start somewhere else.”

the world does have so much to offer—and yoongi has to commend him for his idea. yoongi almost wishes he had done more traveling before he got his job, because now he only has smaller chances like this when he can get the time off and zip around the world for a few weeks. and he’s lucky even in that, knowing that so much of the world can’t even afford to leave their own country or don’t have the basic right to. he feels lucky to be sitting here at all, and hopes jeongguk does, too.

“you’ll be such a worldly person by the time you come back,” laughs yoongi. “what’s your top choice for a country to study in?”

“i dunno. i haven’t really let myself think about it because i don’t want to be disappointed if i don’t get into that school. but i’m also kind of using this trip as a chance to scope out where i might want to go most, since i’ve applied to some schools in these countries.”

“really?” asks yoongi. “that’s so far from home. i assumed you were talking about, like… japan.”

“i did apply to schools in japan,” says jeongguk. “but when i decided i wanted to try my luck outside of korea, i thought i might as well go big or go home, you know? maybe i’ll end up right here in england.”

he tries to imagine jeongguk fitting in here, and realizes that jeongguk could probably fit in anywhere. he’d stick out simply for being korean, but also because there’s something about him that makes him—different. yoongi has been trying to put his finger on it since they met, what this quality is that has yoongi constantly gravitating toward him. he likes jimin and taehyung, too, but jeongguk is something else. jeongguk smiles and whole galaxies are born, coming to life in that one instant where the world suddenly feels like a kinder place for it.

yoongi realizes, then, that they’re still holding hands. it must be the alcohol that gives him courage now instead of leaving him flustered as he takes jeongguk’s hand properly, tapping his thumb against jeongguk’s skin. “wherever you go or whatever you end up doing,” he says earnestly, “it’s going to be fantastic. i know it.”

“hyung,” says jeongguk, cheeks almost as pink as his hair as he hikes his shoulders up. “that’s embarrassing.”

“i’m serious, though,” says yoongi. “i know we’ve really only just met, but you’re an incredible person. and i believe in you and i know you’re going to do great and be an amazing nurse and make lots of people better. and happier. you already make me happier.”

when jeongguk catches his eye, there’s something soft in his gaze. beneath the embarrassment, at least, he looks grateful and warm and—happy. and yoongi likes seeing him happy.

it breaks after a prolonged moment, jeongguk ducking his head as he says, “alright, enough deep, emotional talk. i think we need more drinks.”

yoongi laughs, but he agrees to it; it feels as though they’ve broken through some barrier, moving from two people who are merely traveling together to something more. friends, of course, but he’s seen jeongguk’s heart. that means something, even when they do get more drinks and can easily fall back into banter and laughter.

“i feel like i’ve talked so much about myself,” says jeongguk. “we should talk about you instead.”

“maybe i don’t like talking about myself.”

“you can’t make me bare my entire soul to you and then not return the favour.”

“then what do you want to know?”

jeongguk narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his drink as he leans partway across the table and scrutinizes yoongi. yoongi wiggles his eyebrows, waiting for the inevitable questions about his sexuality or family or something equally as vulnerable as what jeongguk was revealing. but jeongguk just asks, “what’s your favourite girl group?”

yoongi blinks at him. “pardon?”

“girl groups,” repeats jeongguk. “you know, like singing, dancing, snatching wigs.”

“what does that even mean?”

“i feel like you were an snsd stan when you were younger.”

“i don’t really listen to popular music,” says yoongi, taking a sip of his drink—although it’s the wrong choice, because the absolutely appalled look on jeongguk’s face makes him snort, the drink immediately shooting into his nose, and he has to put the drink down to start coughing, giggling even as jeongguk just sits there and stares at him. “what?” he finally asks after he’s grabbed a napkin and awkwardly wiped his nose, making sure he’s not dripping alcohol out of it.

“you don’t really listen to popular music?” repeats jeongguk. “what are you, fifty years old?”

“i’m twenty-five, brat,” says yoongi. “and i don’t. there are other genres of music than pop.”

“do you even listen to the radio? do you even go on the internet? what do you do instead of learning girl group dances when you’re meant to be studying?”

“oh my god, jeongguk.”

“i have to fix this,” says jeongguk, suddenly determined. “i have to show you the light.”

“i really don’t care—” yoongi begins, but jeongguk is already pulling out his phone like he’s going to fix it right then and there. yoongi begins to protest again, but jeongguk just opens up the notes app on his phone and starts a new note with the title SAVE YOONGI-HYUNG 2K19 before starting an actual list of the things that jeongguk apparently needs to teach yoongi to help him go home a better man. first on the list is introducing him to a bunch of groups yoongi hasn’t even heard of before, but as he leans over, he sees jeongguk make a new bullet with cocktails.

“cocktails?”

“hey, you’re not supposed to be snooping,” says jeongguk, leaning away from yoongi with his phone practically pressed against his chin as he keeps typing. “this is my super secret formula to making you cool.”

“i’m already cool,” protests yoongi, trying to reach out and grab jeongguk’s phone, but the little shit keeps giggling as he wiggles away, rapidly typing, and yoongi is seriously concerned about what’s going into that note. “jeongguk-ah, i’m already cool!”

“hyung, today i heard you recite hamlet’s entire to be or not to be speech under your breath while in the globe theatre completely unprompted, and that’s not cool.”

“i like shakespeare,” frowns yoongi. “that’s cool.”

“that’s nerdy,” says jeongguk. “but you can be a cool nerd, i guess. i just need to help you a little.”

yoongi groans, waiting a few moments to lull jeongguk into a false sense of security before he lunges across the table and snatches jeongguk’s phone right out of his hands. it works this time, yelling triumphantly as he sits back in his own chair and twists around, holding the phone away from jeongguk, who immediately protests and tries to grab it back.

“hyung—”

“let’s see,” says yoongi, squinting at the screen. “girl groups, cocktails, yada yada… go clothes shopping. what? my clothes are fine.”

“hyung,” growls jeongguk, finally getting out of his chair and skirting around the table to reach for the phone. yoongi ducks at the last second, pulling jeongguk’s phone into his chest so jeongguk can’t get it.

“jeongguk, my clothes are fine.”

“you’re not supposed to look!”

yoongi takes another peek, trying to keep the phone away from jeongguk and read at the same time. “why does it say hair with three question marks? teach him hip lingo. who the fuck even says hip anymore? maybe i need to save you.”

“yoongi-hyung, seriously,” says jeongguk, practically flopping into yoongi’s lap as he reaches out and finally grabs his phone from yoongi, but not before yoongi sees the last bullet point on the list and turns to look at jeongguk with furrowed brows.

“what did that last one say?” he asks, but jeongguk is already going back to his seat, tucking his phone safely back into his pocket and immediately downing half of his drink to hide the flush on his cheeks. “something about me already being super hot and interesting so you don’t actually have to do much?”

“no,” mumbles jeongguk as he puts down his drink and reaches for yoongi’s to drink that, too.

“i definitely saw something about me being hot.”

“it was about you being hot as in sweaty,” jeongguk protests, but his cheeks are bright red even in the dim lighting of the pub, and he downs the rest of yoongi’s drink in one go despite apparently not liking anything that yoongi wants to drink. “i heard that the older you get, the more you sweat for no apparent reason. you probably have terrible swass.”

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met,” says yoongi with exasperation, but it only takes a second for him to start giggling anyway, because it’s all a little ridiculous—how much he’s enjoying just sitting here and talking with jeongguk, even if they were meant to be doing tourist things tonight, and how glad he is that the both of them decided to skip out on it, maybe for the same reason, maybe not. how glad he is that jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk decided to join them at all, and how much he wants them to continue with them when they leave london—to go to france and italy with them, too, to let this story continue wherever it wants to go.

how much he likes jeongguk, likes having him as a friend. thinks maybe there could be something more, if only they had more time.

jeongguk giggles with him, too, sliding down in his seat enough to lean his head against the back of it. his legs knock into yoongi’s, and yoongi doesn’t move his feet, letting them tangle under the table.

“i’m glad we did this,” sighs jeongguk. “i bet they’re having fun at the show, but i like this better.”

yoongi grins, soft and careful. jeongguk isn’t even looking at him, so he lets it grow, unafraid to reveal how horrendously endeared he is by jeongguk. “me too,” he says. “turns out you’re still interesting when i’m not hammered.”

jeongguk hits his shin under the table, lifting his head to throw yoongi a pout. “i’m always interesting, hyung,” he says. “i do tend to come out of my shell with alcohol, though. you may have originally thought i was shy, but i’m just like that around new people. now that we’ve basically had a heart to heart in a london pub, i’ll now show you the real me.”

“oh?”

“yeah,” says jeongguk. “he’s super annoying and funny and loud.”

“what if i like you like this, too?”

jeongguk grins. “i can be both.”

“i didn’t say i did like you like this, though,” says yoongi, and jeongguk scoffs with indignation, making yoongi laugh again as he sits up properly and protests that, and they dissolve into giggles and petty squabbling for the fun of it, and yoongi refuses to look at the time, not wanting to know how long they’ve been sitting here or much longer they can. he wants to stay right here forever, suddenly, doesn’t care about the sightseeing or the experiences—he just wants to talk to jeongguk, just wants it to be the two of them.

that can’t happen, of course. but he pretends as they continue talking, whiling away the time with easy conversation and questions and laughter, until yoongi finally concedes that they should head back to the hotel, knowing their friends will be returning soon, too. jeongguk seems as reluctant as him, taking forever to put on his coat and arguing about who is going to pay the bill, although yoongi wins out in the end.

the sun has long since set when they leave the pub, walking shoulder to shoulder down the street back to their hotel. few tourists are out, along with locals, and yoongi breathes in the fresh air with a small sigh as he finally sees their hotel up ahead.

“what if we just come back tomorrow?” jeongguk asks suddenly.

“we can’t spend the whole time in london in a pub, jeongguk.”

“yeah, but it was nice.” there’s a slight pout in his words, but yoongi understands—and agrees. he loves spending time with his friends and all seven of them as a whole, even if it’s always a little chaotic. but it is nice to have some quieter time just with jeongguk. but if they do end up traveling together from here, as he hopes they do, yoongi is sure they’ll have plenty more opportunity for that.

outside of the hotel, yoongi knocks their shoulders together. “we can hang out more tomorrow,” he says. “just don’t tell anyone, because they’ll start accusing us of being party poopers who only want to spend time together.” jeongguk giggles, the sound that yoongi has already come to love in just a few short days. somehow, it feels like they’ve known each other longer. but jeongguk agrees, almost a little shyly, and yoongi leads them into the hotel to face whatever their friends have in store for them.

》》》

the next day, after a proper english breakfast together—which is something yoongi will never eat again, because he can’t possibly understand beans on fucking toast—the group decides to split up, as some of them want to visit some of the iconic museums in london and others want to go shopping and check out less tourist-y spots. yoongi is only mildly ashamed to admit that he waits until he learns what jeongguk wants to do before making his decision, not really having a preference either way but knowing he wants to take the opportunity to make good on his promises from last night that they could spend more time together.

and if jeongguk looks pleased when yoongi says he wants to join him, along with taehyung and namjoon, in visiting the national gallery, yoongi tries not to dwell on it.

yoongi soon learns that he’s out of his depth as they head to trafalgar square and get into the gallery. taehyung, as it turns out, is an actual art geek, someone who follows countless modern artists and studied art history in university. he knows enough facts about the art they see that it makes yoongi’s brain hurt, although it’s fascinating to watch him look at the art, admire it, take it all in—so many artists and specific paintings that he’s wanted to see for years, has learned about in his classes, and now finally has the opportunity to admire in person.

watching him, along with namjoon, who has also always been interested in art, look at the works makes yoongi feel like he’s doing it wrong. he can appreciate art, of course—and does, and recognizes some of the more iconic paintings in the gallery, but he could easy look at a piece of art for a few seconds before moving on. taehyung and namjoon, on the other hand, stand before certain works for minutes at a time, murmuring to each other about negative space or colour palettes or brush strokes. yoongi thinks the art is nice, but he’s never going to understand it the way they do.

at least that’s the excuse he tells himself for why he keeps gravitating toward jeongguk instead, who seems to appreciate art in a similar way that he does. they could spend days here, appreciating each room of art—and the rooms go on and on, never ending, a whole maze inside the building—but they don’t have that much time. living here might afford them that opportunity, but jeongguk grabs a map of the building at the beginning and points out some pieces he would like to see rather than wanting to see everything like taehyung and namjoon.

as they enter a gallery displaying paintings from the last few centuries, at least (yoongi has gotten a little sick of those religious-themed paintings dating back eight centuries), he holds his hands behind his back, watching taehyung and namjoon slowly move about the room and stop to admire some of the paintings. he spots jeongguk admiring one of the paintings and makes his way over, stopping beside him and looking at the art for a few seconds.

it’s cast entirely in blues and greens and browns, featuring a group of naked women artistically poised so that nothing incriminating is actually shown, looking as though they’re lounging about in a forest, or perhaps near a lake. yoongi glances at the title of the piece, recognizing the name paul cezanne.

“it’s pretty,” comments yoongi quietly, not wanting to disrupt the relative silence of the gallery.

he can feel jeongguk’s gaze on his face, but he keeps his eyes trained on the painting. after another few seconds, he adds, “i like the, uh… texture.”

jeongguk snorts.

“what?” asks yoongi. “i do. it’s very nice.”

“you don’t have to pretend to be an art hoe or whatever,” says jeongguk. “you can just appreciate the art for its aesthetic qualities.”

yoongi glances over his shoulder at taehyung and namjoon, who are standing before a different painting. vaguely, he thinks that it would make for a nice photograph—but yoongi neglected to take his camera with him today, and he notes that jeongguk has, too. “i’m not sure they would agree with that,” he admits. “i feel like taehyung would lecture me about understanding the paintings. but you know, sometimes they just look like… shapes. colours. sometimes i don’t even get why something is art.”

“you don’t have to,” says jeongguk. “everyone sees things differently. but clearly someone thinks the art is important if it’s in the national gallery.”

“i mean, they’re all more talented than me, anyway. i couldn’t even paint a square if i tried.”

“you’re good at other stuff.”

“i didn’t say i wasn’t.” he catches jeongguk’s eye, something fierce in it. yoongi’s forte has always been communication in many forms—writing his own shitty lyrics as a teenager, or trying his hand at prose. he’s been known to write a poem or two, as well, although he does prefer to communicate just like this: words. he’s a news anchor, after all, relaying important information to people all over the country. maybe art is just communication in a different form.

he turns back to the cezanne painting, tilting his head as he asks, “what do you see in this, then?”

jeongguk takes a breath, and yoongi can’t help looking at him instead of the painting as he speaks. “i’m not qualified to do this at all,” he begins, “but i guess… to me, it’s about freedom. none of them look afraid to be in the nude, to reveal themselves to each other. they can just be—just go and bathe, you know? and i like how they’re all different sizes and shapes. it’s just the human body as cezanne saw it, nothing sexualized about it. everything about it seems warm, despite some of the cooler colours. it’s inviting.”

there’s a funny little grin on jeongguk’s lips as he says it, voice fading out into nothing as he looks at the painting and yoongi looks at him. it’s so overrated and silly to say, but something about jeongguk being art pops into yoongi’s head. if he could paint, maybe he’d paint jeongguk just like this—pink hair contrasting the cool colours of the bathers, creases at the corners of his eyes to betray his contentment.

that would make a good photograph, too.

jeongguk turns to him, catching him staring, and his grin widens. “that sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“no,” says yoongi. “it’s better than anything i would have answered. you’re better at this.”

“you should ask tae-hyung and namjoon-hyung that question. i’m sure they’d have something much more introspective to say.”

speaking of which—yoongi turns over his shoulder to find that taehyung and namjoon have disappeared from the room, and he quickly tugs on jeongguk’s sleeve to bring him into the next gallery, where he finds they’ve gathered around what must be an extraordinarily famous painting, considering the crowd.

yoongi stops behind namjoon, standing on his toes to be able to put his chin on namjoon’s shoulder. “what’s so special about this painting?” he whispers.

“hyung,” says namjoon, turning slightly to speak to him. “it’s van gogh.”

“didn’t we just go to a whole museum of van gogh? why do we need to see this one, too?”

“oh my god, you’re embarrassing,” whispers namjoon.

“van gogh is one of the most incredible and celebrated artists in history, hyung,” says taehyung quietly. “his paintings are scattered around the world because everyone wants a piece of him. i could see a new van gogh painting every day for the rest of my life and still wouldn’t be satisfied.”

yoongi glances over at jeongguk with furrowed brows, but jeongguk just nudges his arm and says, “c’mon, yoongi-hyung. even you have to admit seeing a van gogh painting is amazing.”

“didn’t he cut his own ear off?”

“look at the painting, hyung.”

“but really, didn’t he?”

jeongguk sighs with exasperation, grabbing yoongi’s chin and turning it toward the painting, which has now become obscured by a handful of people standing in front of yoongi and blocking his view. not that he’s paying attention to that, anyway, too busy focusing on jeongguk touching him; he hasn’t removed his hand, making sure that yoongi gets a good, long look at the painting before he leans over and says, “what do you see, min yoongi?”

“the back of someone’s fucking head,” he whispers back, and jeongguk lets out a startled giggle. yoongi gestures toward them, where even more people have crowded in, all vying for the best spot to take a picture of the painting and not even looking at it before they get out of the way again. “i mean, really. it’s a famous painting, but can you imagine van gogh seeing this? he’d be disgusted. disgusted, i say.”

“hyung, stop being so loud.”

“no one here can speak korean, anyway.”

“i can,” says namjoon, who has moved off to the side enough to not be in the way, shooting yoongi a cool look.

“i’m just saying, the point of being here is actually looking at the paintings, not just taking a picture and moving on.”

“you sound like seokjin-hyung,” says taehyung, and yoongi blanches when he realizes he does. god, they’ve spent too much time together. that’s what he gets for being seokjin’s roommate for four of the most formative years of his life.

before he can say anything more, jeongguk takes hold of his wrist and tugs him away from the painting. “let’s go look at other paintings, hyung,” he says, and yoongi frowns as he starts pulling yoongi away from taehyung and namjoon, too.

“but we’re supposed to be here together,” he protests.

“they want to appreciate the art,” says jeongguk. “you want to make jokes that only i’ll laugh at. c’mon, puppy.”

“i’m not a puppy.”

“apparently i have to put you on a leash, so yes, you are.”

yoongi does let jeongguk pull him out of the room and into the next one. they’ve only been here for something like an hour, but he already feels like he’s gotten his fill of art—and they’ve only been in a handful of galleries at all. he has no idea how people can look at every painting in this building, if anyone has. he and jeongguk move through some galleries together, stopping to look at a few paintings that seem interesting—or ones that jeongguk has on his list to see before they leave. they spot namjoon and taehyung a few times, but they seem content to move at their own pace without worrying about yoongi making jokes about the paintings again. it’s probably for the best.

after another half an hour, jeongguk finishes looking at the paintings he wanted to and namjoon and taehyung are nowhere in sight. they could easily give one of them a call, but the building is too massive to go looking for them again, and yoongi has a feeling that the two of them will want to spend more time here even though yoongi feels as though he can’t spend another moment in the building.

after stopping for a coffee at the espresso bar (which is honestly one of yoongi’s favourite parts of the whole visit), they decide to leave the gallery altogether, sending a quick message to taehyung and namjoon saying they’ll meet them back at the hotel at the agreed time once all seven of them are back together. back in trafalgar square, yoongi considers the time, realizing they don’t have any other concrete plans until after dinner.

before he can ask what jeongguk wants to do, though, the younger man lets out a gasp and latches onto yoongi’s arm, pointing at a building next to the one they just left. “oh my god,” he says. “hyung, it’s the national portrait gallery!”

yoongi frowns as he looks at the building. “is it more paintings?”

“yeah,” says jeongguk. “but also photographs and stuff—it’s all like, a bunch of historic and famous british people. like the queen and ed sheeran and stuff, plus they always have exhibitions with photographs from really important times in british history or important photographers.” despite just having thought that he couldn’t look at another work of art to save his life, the brightness in jeongguk’s eyes already has yoongi conceding before jeongguk asks, “can we go? we don’t have to or i can go al—”

“of course,” says yoongi immediately, already walking toward the gallery. “if you wanna go, let’s go.”

jeongguk positively beams, clapping his hands together in excitement as he skips a few steps to catch up with yoongi and then has a bounce in his step as they make their way toward the entrance. and yoongi thinks that it doesn’t really matter what they’re going to see, if jeongguk is that excited, because yoongi would happily go with him, would witness this happiness, would be a part of that no matter what.

the truth is, most of the portrait gallery is paintings again—this time, all of specific people who have been important in british history, as jeongguk said. but something feels different about this one. it takes him a few galleries to understand, as he walks alongside jeongguk and watches him admire the portraits, reading off the names of the subjects under his breath and occasionally musing that he actually knows who that is.

yoongi gets it, all at once—it’s jeongguk. seeing jeongguk excited makes him excited, makes everything that much more enjoyable. he thinks of what jeongguk told him last night, about feeling bored and restless in korea and wanting something more before he has to settle back down into a career. and this feels like that—taking that chance, making the most of the time that he has. and yoongi wants to be part of that, suddenly, wants to make sure that this trip is everything jeongguk wants before he has to go back to school. he wants to help jeongguk make the most of it, wants to be right beside him at each turn to give him the vacation of his dreams.

yoongi himself largely enjoys the gallery with paintings of more modern famous people, plenty that he can actually recognize—the current british royal family, for example, or british singers and politicians and sports stars that have made an impact in the world. he has to laugh as jeongguk excitedly drags him to a portrait of the queen with a corgi, pointing out the dog with a, “that’s the kind of photography work i’d want to do. exclusively dogs. but only if they cuddle me at some point.”

yoongi snorts, reaching up to ruffle jeongguk’s hair in an almost automatic response. “you can do whatever you want.”

“i guess being allowed to photograph or paint the queen would be cool, too. but like, dogs.”

“maybe you can photograph the korean president with dogs.”

“does the president even have dogs?”

yoongi shrugs. but he suddenly wants to find a dog for jeongguk, just to see him smile the way he has been since they walked into this gallery.

after they move through all of the paintings, jeongguk points out a special exhibition that the gallery is holding only until september: the influential photographer cindy sherman, whose name yoongi certainly doesn’t recognize, and he’s not sure jeongguk does either, but the way he gasps means yoongi automatically knows he wants to visit. they’ll be cutting it close to the time they said they would meet everyone back at the hotel, but jeongguk looks up at him with those wide, pleading eyes, and yoongi feels entirely out of his depth in refusing him anything.

“i don’t really have the money for it,” admits jeongguk as they’re making their way over, clearly a pout in his voice.

“i’ll buy you a ticket,” says yoongi immediately.

“really? you don’t have to. i mean, you and the other hyungs have been paying for a lot of our stuff already—”

“accept my gift, brat,” says yoongi, figuring being firm about it will keep jeongguk from arguing further. and it does, as it turns out, for when yoongi sneaks a glance at jeongguk, there’s a pleased grin on his lips, cheeks tinted the colour of his hair.

it turns out to be the best choice—once they’re in the exhibit, jeongguk is absolutely mesmerized by the photographs he sees. yoongi feels out of his depth again just like he did back in the national gallery, not quite understanding the importance of the work, but jeongguk presses himself close to each photograph, tugging on yoongi’s sleeve to keep him close and asking what he thinks about each or offering his own interpretation. the little program said the collection was about how sherman explores the tension between façade and identity, which he supposes he can see, but maybe he just doesn’t have an eye for that. in truth, his own photography is never so artistic and doesn’t make a statement; he just likes taking photographs of pretty things.

he suddenly wishes he had his camera here, too, to capture jeongguk just like this.

“look at this one, hyung!” gasps jeongguk as he tugs yoongi over to the next photograph, but yoongi isn’t looking at it, is looking at the only real piece of art he’s seen all fucking day. “it’s just so… raw. so vulnerable. it feels like i shouldn’t even be looking at it because she captured someone in their most human moment, but i can’t look away.”

neither can yoongi.

“don’t you think so?” asks jeongguk, turning to look at yoongi and almost startling when he finds yoongi already looking at him. his eyebrows pinch together for a moment, lips wavering on a confused smile before he points at the photograph, like yoongi needs some help finding it. “hyung?”

“yeah,” says yoongi, finally looking at it. the photograph is of a young woman, the camera looming over her where she’s kneeling on the floor, eyes turned somewhere to the right of the camera. “yeah, i see what you mean.”

“this is so cool,” sighs jeongguk. “i’m so happy we did this. i mean, i love art and everything, but what i really love is photography, and this is so perfect. oh my god, i love london so much.” he keeps gushing about the exhibit as he pulls yoongi to the next set of photographs, talking about lighting and positioning almost in the same way taehyung and namjoon were talking about things in the national gallery—but this time, yoongi is more than happy to listen. he can’t stop looking at jeongguk’s bright face when he sees another photograph he likes, constantly looking back to make sure yoongi is following, is looking with him.

and all at once, yoongi’s heart starts skipping a beat every time jeongguk looks at him with those bright eyes, with that wide smile. all at once, yoongi realizes he’s gone and messed up just what namjoon told him to be careful of—his heart has done reckless things, has dived headfirst into something it can’t even understand yet.

all at once, yoongi wants to kiss him—wants to hold his hand through as many galleries as jeongguk wants, wants to keep him with yoongi through the rest of the europe and even beyond. all at once, yoongi realizes this isn’t about being friends anymore, and maybe never was. all it took was a few short days for yoongi’s heart to latch on, to want so badly that it almost aches.

when jeongguk turns to him again, smiling like he does, geeking out about some photography technique that sherman must have used, yoongi wants to see it again again again. wants to put that smile on jeongguk’s face himself, wants to kiss it right off only to put it back with words, hands. he wants to keep it in his pocket. he wants to make art out of the two of them, wants to tell jeongguk that he outshines everything in this gallery.

but—he holds it, letting jeongguk reach for his hand instead as he tugs yoongi forward, wanting his opinion on the photograph. but all yoongi can think is jeongguk, jeongguk, jeongguk, and he knows, without a doubt, that nothing about this trip will be the same. not anymore.

》》》

it’s a unanimous decision, almost a given, once the seven of them return to the hotel after their day apart, and rehash everything the others missed. they head out for dinner in london, and over classic fish and chips, namjoon says, “so we have a train to paris tomorrow morning…”

and taehyung says, “better not be at six in the fucking morning or we’ll be missing it again. also, can i please share a room with someone other than jimin and jeongguk this time? one of them snores and the other sleep talks. it’s hell, honestly.” no one says anything for a moment, until taehyung adds, “yoongi-hyung, can you pass the salt?”

and that’s—it. yoongi passes taehyung the salt and their eyes meet as taehyung grins at him, and when yoongi looks around the table, everyone else is grinning, too, an agreement that somehow doesn’t need to be spoken: taehyung, jimin, and jeongguk will be continuing with them, no need for a grand debate or to convince anyone of anything. it’s just natural, the way they’ve all fallen together perfectly and don’t want to let go of each other just yet.

sitting beside him, jeongguk knocks their knees together under the table. yoongi’s grin widens.

Chapter Text

admittedly, yoongi doesn’t know much about french royalty, particularly their history, but as he stands in the courtyard before the palace of versailles, he doesn’t think it matters. he wouldn’t miss this for anything, looking up at the countless windows and golden trim and the sun shining down upon them from high above. he squints, holding a hand above his eyebrows to see the palace better, and wonders, for a moment, what it might have been like back when this was where the king and queen resided.

his musings are interrupted by jimin commenting from somewhere to his right: “why is it so dusty? it’s ruining my shoes.”

“maybe you shouldn’t have worn black leather shoes, then,” says jeongguk.

“you’re wearing black, too!”

“yeah, but i’m not the one complaining.”

despite himself, yoongi snorts with amusement. such playful bickering and discussions have become the soundtrack to this trip, and after only three days, it feels as though something is missing when yoongi can’t hear the others arguing or conversing quietly (or loudly, usually) beside him.

he lifts his camera and takes a few pictures of the front of the palace, capturing the blue, blue sky along with it. the train from london to paris had been relatively short, thankfully, and had allowed the seven of them to go over their itinerary for their three days in france. as usual, namjoon was adamant about sticking to the pre-arranged plan as much as possible, and since most of their plans don’t involve things like the broadway show in london where they can’t get extra tickets, they won’t run into many hiccups.

that being said, paris is grand and offers countless tourist attractions, so of course the group is divided on some of it. if anything, they’ll be visiting the eiffel tower, so yoongi is happy. and everyone had agreed on visiting the palace of versailles before actually exploring paris, the morning sun offering them little solace from the heat of early august.

“should we go in?” asks namjoon eventually, after everyone has gotten their pictures of the courtyard. “we can all get audio guides.”

“not again with the audio guides,” groans seokjin. “i’m gonna go find where jean val jean lived and sleep in his bed.”

“there are so many things wrong with that sentence,” says taehyung, and as seokjin argues about having watched les miserables several times so he’s clearly an expert on french history, namjoon ushers them all into the palace to begin their tour. they do get audio guides that will take them through the palace, to important rooms set up as though someone still lives there, and the famed hall of mirrors.

yoongi finds himself getting distracted from what the audio guide is telling him, too busy just staring. the palace is massive, of course, and intricately decorated with cherubs and clouds on the ceilings, patterned wallpapers, artwork on the walls, and furniture that probably costs more than he could ever make in his entire life as a news anchor. the audio guide tells them about the history of the palace, who lived here, what each room was used for. it’s not so different from other castles yoongi has seen, although the palace of versailles is special simply because of the french revolution. as a history buff, namjoon is no doubt on the verge of passing out because of this.

when yoongi pulls away the audio guide, he can hear hoseok and taehyung passionately discussing interior design, likely inspired by the bedroom they’re standing in. seokjin keeps trying to ask the french-speaking guards about how much alcohol the king was allowed to drink on any given day, to no avail.

as usual, yoongi finds his eyes wandering to jeongguk. he’s stopped trying to deny that it will happen, has stopped trying to pretend that it’s something it’s not; he just always wants to be with jeongguk, even if he was once adamant about this trip being only for he and his friends. the problem is that he’s still not entirely sure if jeongguk feels the same way—whatever these feelings are. they’re friends, at least, but they have such a short amount of time together that yoongi can’t afford to be shy or uncertain.

so he wanders around the room under the pretense of admiring the wallpaper or the chair near the door, and ends up beside jeongguk, who is near the bed. the room is almost entirely gold and brown, so much so that it almost hurts yoongi’s eyes, but he takes a moment before he nods toward the canopy bed, the thick curtains hanging around it almost entirely closed and affording but a peek inside the bed.

“thinking about getting a bed like that when you get home?” asks yoongi quietly, not wanting to disturb the other tourists.

jeongguk turns to him, a warm grin immediately lighting up his face, and yoongi feels his stomach swoop just from that. “ah, no,” laughs jeongguk. “i was just thinking it would be pretty good for privacy, though.”

yoongi’s eyebrows rise, unable to keep the teasing lilt out of his voice when he asks, “what would you need that kind of privacy for, jeon jeongguk?”

he sees the way jeongguk’s cheeks darken, picking up on what yoongi is insinuating—and it makes him nervous, just for a moment, afraid that jeongguk won’t like it. but yoongi wants to try something, wants to test the waters here. they don’t have time for anything other than diving in headfirst, but yoongi has to know that he’s not alone.

“not like that,” huffs jeongguk, but the grin never leaves his face. “i just meant, like—watching netflix or something, i don’t know. what were you thinking of?”

it’s yoongi’s turn to blush a little, turning back to stare at the bed as he says, “i heard there could be hundreds or even thousands of people living here at a time—all of those servants and knights or whatever. you never know who might just walk into your room.”

“people just walk into your room even if you only have one roommate.”

“you know from experience?”

“surely you have had nosy roommates.”

“yeah, but if i’m trying to get my dick wet, i generally let them know not to come home.”

jeongguk makes a choking noise, and yoongi’s cheeks flare as he immediately regrets saying something like that, and normally he knows how to fucking flirt, but suddenly, when it’s jeongguk, his brain isn’t connected to his mouth properly. he coughs a few times, trying to maintain his composure and appear as some suave person who definitely knows how to tease someone, but he genuinely has no idea of what he’s doing.

still. jeongguk takes a moment before he says, almost a mutter, “have you ever been roommates with seokjin-hyung and namjoon-hyung?”

yoongi looks over his shoulder to find the two of them; namjoon is still intently listening to the audio guide and seokjin is talking to jimin and hoseok, a conversation he can only guess at. when he turns his gaze back to jeongguk, his face has returned to a normal colour. “seokjin-hyung was my roommate at university for four years,” he says. “unfortunately. i’ve never seen so much pink in my life. also, he’s nosy as fuck, but only because he’s always looking for blackmail material since he willingly hands over his own to you.”

“and namjoon-hyung?”

“i’ve shared a dorm, although never a room. i think he’s too considerate to be nosy, though, or he’d try to be nosy and then end up telling you about it because he doesn’t want to feel bad, you know?”

jeongguk doesn’t say much more, just nodding with a small frown on his lips. yoongi waits for more, unsure why he’s asking, and then eventually says, “you’re not going to ask about hoseok?”

“oh, no,” says jeongguk, forcing a laugh. “it’s just, you know. i’m in a room with the two of them and jimin-hyung for the next few nights, so…” he shrugs a little, eyes darting to yoongi as though yoongi is supposed to understand what that means. somewhere, the thread of the conversation has gotten a little tangled, and jeongguk’s cheeks blush a pretty pink again when yoongi doesn’t immediately respond or laugh or do whatever jeongguk was clearly expecting him to do.

after a bit of an awkward silence, jeongguk says, “never mind,” with an embarrassed huff and then points to the door that leads to the next room. “we should probably keep going.” and then he’s gone before yoongi can even ask him about it, brows furrowed as he works back through their conversation until—oh. jeongguk wants to know if he has nosy roommates, if he’d need a bed like the one right here in this bedroom, because—

jeongguk glances over his shoulder near the door, and the eye contact makes yoongi’s stomach drop. he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks… jeongguk might be trying to flirt back.

and they’re both just kind of shit at it. but something about that is comforting.

they work their way through the rest of the palace until they come to the hall of mirrors. the hall seems infinite when yoongi first steps into it, one wall covered in nearly floor to ceiling windows in wide arches and the other covered in mirrors that were meant to reflect the setting sun. the ceiling is intricately painted, chandeliers hanging here and there, and golden statues dotting the hall—all of it is golden, golden, and yoongi can only imagine what it would look like at sunset, with all of those oranges sand yellows and reds lighting up the room.

if he were a king, he would want this too.

and maybe—his eyes find jeongguk again, wandering ahead of him through the crowd of other tourists. and yoongi imagines him here, too, awash in all of that golden light. golden outside just like he’s golden inside, and that makes sense, somehow. he should be here, as beautiful as the art on the ceiling, as royal as the ground they walk upon.

“you’re staring,” comes a voice next to his ear, and yoongi physically startles as he turns to see seokjin standing very closely.

“fucking hell, hyung,” says yoongi. “i know this place is packed, but you don’t have to forget what personal space is.”

“i said, you’re staring.”

“i got that.”

seokjin takes a step away from him, eyes narrowing as he continues to stare at yoongi. and yoongi didn’t even do anything but he suddenly feels very guilty, a flush rushing all the way down his back as he waits for seokjin to continue. but rather than do that, because it’s seokjin, he just folds his hands behind his back and continues to step backward away from yoongi while saying, “interesting, yoongi-yah. very interesting.”

“listen to your stupid audio guide,” says yoongi.

“i have been. it’s in french.”

“you know you can change the language, right?”

“oh, i know. it’s a power move.”

yoongi can only stare after seokjin as he winks and then turns around to bother someone else. by then, he’s lost jeongguk in the crowd, although he easily spots taehyung’s bright blue hair next to the orange of hoseok’s. he wants to find jeongguk again, wants to ask him about this—wants to comment on how the mirrors are actually shit, warped in places and paneled, spotted with dark parts that might be from how old they are or something else, probably because no one knew how to make mirrors properly back in the eighteenth century. he wants to joke about it, laugh about it. but he sees seokjin’s gaze again and has to remind himself that he’s on this trip with more people than just jeongguk, no matter how he wants to monopolize his time.

outside, in the gardens of versailles—which trail on for kilometers, although they won’t be exploring all of that—yoongi admires the greenery and intricate designs of it all. more statues dot the gardens, dusty paths enticing them further inside where perfectly trimmed hedges and tall trees and delicate ponds await their eager eyes. the seven of them wander for a while, snapping countless pictures and selfies in the morning sun, commenting on the designs and, of course, how the dust is still ruining jimin’s shoes.

“you know what we need to get here,” taehyung says as they wander down the main path of the gardens, smaller groves and fountains on either side of them. “macarons.”

“isn’t that the thing with the coconut?” asks hoseok.

“that’s a macaroon,” says jeongguk.

“what’s the difference?” asks hoseok.

“macarons are the little round cookies made out of meringue and you can get them in a million flavours and colours,” says jeongguk. “macaroons are like balls of coconut or whatever.”

“that doesn’t make sense,” says hoseok.

“this is getting out of hand,” says yoongi, and then turns to taehyung. “i like that idea, though. gotta get the classic french cuisine while we’re here.”

“oh, snails!” says jimin, piping up from near the back of the pack. he claims that walking slower will leave his shoes cleaner, although yoongi isn’t sure how accurate that statement is. “and frog legs. aren’t those popular here?”

“i was thinking, like… cheese and wine,” says yoongi.

“we can have that, too, hyung,” laughs hoseok, patting his shoulder. “it’ll wash down the snails and frog legs really well.”

even as yoongi makes a face, he knows that most people in their group would eat anything at least once—if not for the experience and to try something new, then because they’re dare devils who don’t understand that there is allowed to be a limit to recklessness. in the past few days alone, he’s already seen the three youngest members consume an abhorrent amount of questionable liquids, mostly alcoholic—although maybe that has less to do with experience and recklessness than it does with just wanting to get drunk even if it’s on something that tastes nearer to nail polish than anything. at least he can trust namjoon to always just want a good bowl of bulgogi.

speaking of which—“these trees are really nice,” says namjoon, completely on a different train of thought from anyone else. yoongi stops walking, turning to look where namjoon has stopped beside the path and is looking up at some of the trees dotting the edge of the grass that have been trimmed into cone shapes. he always did like nature, so of course he’s enjoying the garden the most.

after a beat, seokjin says, “i mean, yeah. it’s versailles.”

“i want a picture with one,” says namjoon, turning and holding out his phone to the nearest person—who happens to be yoongi, since jimin is still trailing far behind the rest of them as he tries not to get his shoes dirty.

“i don’t think you’re allowed to walk on the grass,” yoongi points out even as he takes the phone, moving to stand where he can get a good shot of both namjoon and the tree.

“but i want to hug it,” says namjoon.

“we’ll guard you, hyung!” calls jeongguk immediately, hurrying over to yoongi’s side and turning toward where the palace looms at the end of the garden. “if a guard or something looks this way, we’ll create a distraction so they don’t see you.”

“wouldn’t creating a distraction just draw more attention?” asks taehyung.

“shut up and help me,” says jeongguk. “do you want namjoonie-hyung to get his picture or not?”

so the other four create a strange sort of barrier around yoongi and namjoon, effectively—or not, most likely—shielding them from prying eyes. yoongi has no idea why namjoon needs to hug that tree so badly, although he’s not going to take the fall if someone gets mad for the footprints on the grass.

“i’m only taking this picture once,” says yoongi. “so you better run to that tree and pose and then get out within like, three seconds. i thought we’d be getting in trouble for trying to steal a doorknob from the palace, not this.”

“who stole a doorknob?” asks jimin, finally joining them.

“on the count of three,” says namjoon, looking ridiculously excited considering it’s a cone-shaped tree, but yoongi indulges him. with his thumb hovering over the phone to take the picture, he watches namjoon count down, looking through the phone as namjoon hurries toward the edge of the grass and the tree, too happy to take the picture, and—

his foot catches on the edge of the grass, raised higher than the dusty path he was on before, and faceplants directly onto the lawn a good foot from the tree. his arms flail out as he does, though, and yoongi’s thumb automatically takes the picture before he realizes what’s happening, looking up to find namjoon face first on the grass, failed before he even begun.

yoongi lets out a rough laugh at the spectacle, unable to help himself, and the other four immediately turn around at the sound only to find namjoon on the ground rather than hugging the tree, and a raucous bout of laughter immediately fills the air as namjoon awkwardly clambers to his feet again, face burning with embarrassment as he makes a beeline for yoongi and snatches his phone away.

“oh my god,” wheezes yoongi. “i can’t believe i caught that on camera.”

“shut up,” says namjoon. “all of you stop laughing! that hurt.”

“he made a fucking indent in the grass,” laughs hoseok, positively howling with laughter as he points at the spot namjoon just laid in—and he’s right. despite wanting to be discreet about the picture, he now doesn’t have a picture with the tree and there’s a human-sized indent in the lawn, and even as namjoon complains about them laughing, he ends up giggling along with them, and yoongi physically can’t stop giggling, so hard that he even starts crying.

and it’s good.

it’s good to be here.

》》》

they spend the afternoon sightseeing in paris, seeing the arc de triomphe, napoleon’s tomb, and les champs-elysees in quick succession. although the eiffel tower is of course the most famous paris landmark, they’ve decided to save it for their second day after jimin suggested they have a picnic on the lawn by the tower, since it’s always been on his bucket list.

after a whirlwind of hopping on and off public transport, taking pictures, and trying to convince his friends not to do something stupid, the time finally comes for them to split up again. despite just spending an entire day in museums, taehyung and namjoon, along with hoseok, immediately cast their votes for heading to the louvre and the musee d’orsay. as much as yoongi wouldn’t mind seeing works such as the mona lisa, he’s not overly inclined to see more museums just yet. jimin and seokjin decide to head to the catacombs, but jeongguk pipes up that a perfumery he’s been looking forward to visiting is near there, asking if he can tag along with them.

it’s not even yoongi who does it this time, jeongguk’s eyes finding his immediately with a questioning, “hyung?”

yoongi ignores the look seokjin gives him as he takes his place beside jeongguk.

they head to the perfumery first, one that yoongi has never heard of—although he can’t say he knows much about perfumeries to begin with. it’s a museum of sorts that traces the history of the company in paris and takes them through the process of choosing scents, making perfumes, bottling it, and selling it. as usual, jimin and seokjin are up to no good, but yoongi can’t stop watching jeongguk. much like he did in the portrait gallery, jeongguk looks absolutely enraptured with the tour, eyes bright and smile wide as he listens intently to the guide tell them all about perfume.

when they finally get to the end of the tour and are taken to a show room of perfumes, they’re allowed to test the different scents that the company has for sale. as jimin and seokjin spray each other with various perfumes, apparently trying to mix and match, yoongi watches them with a vaguely exasperated expression.

“you know those are only for sample,” he says. “they’re going to kick you out if you waste all of it.”

“they wouldn’t put the samples in big bottles if they weren’t meant to be sprayed around,” says jimin as he squirts some of the perfume in yoongi’s direction. clearly he’s been spending too much time with seokjin to be making such claims, and yoongi sees for the first time that bringing jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk along with them might actually have been a bad idea for a few reasons.

“oh, here,” says seokjin, grabbing another perfume sample from the shelf. he spritzes it at yoongi, waving his hand to waft it over. “make sure you smell good for when you go over and flirt with jeongguk about perfume.”

yoongi gapes. “pardon?”

“oh, don’t act like you won’t,” says seokjin, giving yoongi a gentle shove in jeongguk’s direction. “tell him he smells pretty.”

“do you think i’ve smelled him before?”

“you’ve certainly spent enough time with him over the past few days to know what he smells like,” says jimin, and yoongi is appalled. he has been spending a lot of time with jeongguk, but he didn’t think everyone would have noticed. “also, he does smell good all of the time. jeonggukkie is sensitive to smells and is very big on perfume and having nice-smelling laundry detergent and shampoo and everything. so, you know. he’ll definitely want to take some of this stuff home.” he raises his eyes to yoongi, giving him a hard stare.

yoongi stares back. “what?”

“go offer to buy him some perfume, you dumbass,” sighs seokjin, shoving him a little harder, and yoongi has no choice but to stumble across the room, throwing both jimin and seokjin murderous looks the entire time. they’ve gone back to trying to create a perfume cloud, though, and yoongi groans internally before heading for jeongguk like he’s been told. this is why he would rather hang out with jeongguk alone; there’s no one to tease him about how painfully obvious he’s being, or to mess up whatever slow-moving plans he might have.

the truth is that he does like jeongguk—likes him a lot. but even with the tentative flirting he’s been trying to do throughout the day, he can’t be sure that jeongguk likes him back, not like that. how ironic that they should be in paris, the city of love, at a time like this, with all of this newness in the air—with yoongi’s stomach in knots constantly, tugging and tightening every time jeongguk so much as looks at him.

it’s been a long time since yoongi had a crush, if he can call this that. he’s not used to the sweaty palms, the flushed cheeks, the nervousness. but he wants to do this right, and when he spots jeongguk across the room—sticking out with that pink hair, intently studying various perfume bottles—yoongi can only remind himself that maybe this is something he doesn’t have to be in control of.

maybe he can just let it happen. maybe he can do as jeongguk told him to when they first met: let go once in a while, try something new without being so fucking afraid of what might go wrong.

“seeing something you like?” yoongi asks when he stops at jeongguk’s side, arms brushing as they stand against the counter. “or smelling, i guess.”

jeongguk looks over at him with a pout on his lips, two different perfume bottles in each hand and several others on the counter in front of him. “yes,” he says. “that’s the problem. i like all of them.”

yoongi laughs, picking up one of the bottles and turning it over in his hand. it has a drawing of roses on the label, and as he glances at the others jeongguk has with him, he sees all of them have some flower as part of their design. “do they all smell like flowers?”

“i like flowers,” says jeongguk, almost a mumble. he lifts one of the bottles and sniffs his wrist, frowning before he sniffs the other and then sighs. “fuck, this is too hard.” then he turns his wide eyes on yoongi, a clear pleading in them even if he hasn’t voiced anything. again, yoongi hears jimin’s voice in his mind, telling him that jeongguk will want one of these—and seokjin telling him to buy it.

yoongi doesn’t know the first thing about perfume, even after the tour of the perfumery. even if he had been interested before this, he wouldn’t have heard anything with jeongguk around, just—existing. yoongi will be glad for the photographs he’s taken when he goes home and realizes he can’t remember a fucking thing from the trip other than what jeongguk looked like in each city, how he smiled, what his laugh sounded like.

“um,” says yoongi, palms beginning to sweat again. “do you want me to help you?”

“what do you think of this?” says jeongguk immediately, but rather than hand yoongi the bottle, he lifts his hand to yoongi’s face, wrist pointing upward. his eyes are still wide, waiting for an answer, and yoongi tentatively takes hold of jeongguk’s hand to lift it closer to his face before smelling the perfume jeongguk sprayed on his wrist. he’s hit with something sweet and smelling of oranges, other floral scents that he can’t pick out.

he swallows tightly, letting go of jeongguk’s hand. “it’s, uh… floral?”

“hyung,” complains jeongguk. “obviously. this one is the orange blossom, but i also like the violet one and the rose one. and the peony one.”

“let me smell those, then.” yoongi holds out his hand and jeongguk immediately gives his other wrist, awkwardly crossed over his body so that when yoongi tugs it closer, jeongguk is forced to press himself to yoongi’s arm. he watches yoongi with something else in his eyes as yoongi bends his head, bringing jeongguk’s wrist to his nose, and looks at jeongguk through his eyelashes as he smells it.

they stare at each other, neither breathing—for no reason, or maybe it’s the closest they’ve been, all tangled up in sweet smells and flowers.

for a moment, when jeongguk doesn’t immediately ask him what he thinks, yoongi considers pressing a kiss to jeongguk’s wrist, just to see what he would do.

but then he hears the sharp tones of seokjin’s laughter echoing from across the room, and yoongi immediately lets go of jeongguk’s wrist, clearing his throat awkwardly as he grabs the perfume bottle in front of him again. “smells good,” he says quickly. “that one was the rose?”

“yes,” says jeongguk, voice hushed. “here, give me your wrist.”

yoongi does it almost without thinking, overcoming whatever embarrassment he felt a moment ago to hand jeongguk his hand—the one furthest from him, just so he has to cross his arm over himself and turn into jeongguk more, pressing even closer. jeongguk’s eyes dart to his before he gently takes yoongi’s hand in his and sprays some of the next perfume on his wrist. and even though jeongguk has surely smelled them all, he still brings yoongi’s wrist up to his mouth, lips brushing against his skin for a moment before he lifts it a little higher and breathes in.

their eyes meet, jeongguk’s darker than normal. when he exhales, his breath fans out over yoongi’s wrist, warm enough that it makes yoongi shiver, and then jeongguk brings yoongi’s wrist to his own face. “peonies,” he says. “this one smells like peonies.”

when yoongi smells it, he’s not really paying attention to that—just to jeongguk’s fingers still on his wrist, and the rabbit beat of his own heart. still—he inhales, exhales. says, “smells pretty. it would suit you.”

he swears he sees jeongguk’s eyes flicker to his lips, just for a moment before they return to yoongi’s eyes and he lets go of yoongi’s wrist. “not just me,” he says carefully. “but if i had to choose for you, i think i’d go with… the violet.”

“why?”

jeongguk looks away now, picking up the violet perfume as he licks his lips. “if you give someone a purple violet, it means your thoughts are occupied with love for them,” he murmurs, as though he’s speaking to himself. yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“i’ll buy you one, if you want,” he says, tapping the nearest perfume bottle. he speaks quietly, as though they’re not in public, not in a room with other people—their own friends, workers, other tourists. he forgot about them, forgot that there was anyone in the world but him and jeongguk, everlasting, caught in this moment. jeongguk makes him feel like that—like there’s no one else, like there should be no one else. jeongguk makes him feel certain. makes him feel brave.

“you don’t have to do that, hyung,” says jeongguk quickly. “i can afford it.”

“i know,” says yoongi. “but i still want to buy it for you. whichever one you want. or—i’ll get you all of them if you can’t choose.”

when jeongguk looks at him, it seems as though he might argue. that’s too much money to spend at one perfumery, even yoongi can admit—but yoongi wants to make him happy. wants to show it, wants to let jeongguk know the truth without having to voice it just yet, because maybe he’s not brave enough for it. but he is brave, now that some part of him is certain.

maybe it all depends on this—this moment where jeongguk’s teeth scrape along his bottom teeth, thinking, where his gaze moves from yoongi’s eyes to his lips to the perfume bottle he’s holding and then back again.

where he says, “i won’t let you buy all of them. but you can buy one.”

“which one do you want?”

“whichever you think is prettiest,” says jeongguk. he leans into yoongi a little, like he meant to bump their shoulders and gave up halfway, leaving them even closer. “since you think i’m so pretty.”

whatever moment they were in is broken almost immediately by the giggle jeongguk lets out, but it sounds nervous, and maybe, in line with the rest of their teasing this trip, he expects that yoongi will laugh about it, will deny it. but yoongi just looks jeongguk in the eye and says, “yeah. i do.”

jeongguk stops giggling.

with a secret grin of his own, yoongi considers his options and then chooses the rose perfume before handing it to jeongguk. “this one,” he says. “i like this one for you.”

“why?” asks jeongguk.

“c’mon, jeongguk-ah,” laughs yoongi, already taking a step away to bring the perfume to an employee and ask for a bottle to buy—“you know what violets symbolize. surely you know what giving a red rose to someone means.”

》》》

that night, after dinner and a few hours at yet another bar that the younger members had on their trip bucket list, yoongi feels pleasantly buzzed—not just from the alcohol, but from how the day went as a whole. he did something brave and wasn’t admonished for it, wasn’t burned for trying to show some interest in someone he likes. and now they’re in paris, the city of love. tomorrow they go to the eiffel tower. yoongi has no idea what could happen, but part of the excitement is knowing it could be—anything.

he’s the last one to get into the hotel room he’s sharing with hoseok and taehyung—only because jeongguk wanted to get cookies after they went to the bar and everyone else was too tired to go with him. or maybe it was on purpose, but yoongi isn’t complaining, not when jeongguk was so excited about getting cookies that he threw himself at yoongi in a tight hug and then looped their arms together the whole way back to the hotel. not when, in the hall between their rooms, jeongguk grinned at him bright and warm and full of galaxies—and then quickly leaned over to press a kiss to yoongi’s cheek before dashing into the room he’s sharing with jimin, namjoon, and seokjin.

yoongi has to breathe, just for a minute. when he finally feels brave enough to enter his own room without betraying his own feelings (cheeks flushed, stupid grin on his face), he appears to have caught hoseok and taehyung in the middle of something—both of them are dashing across away from the door, taehyung awkwardly throwing himself on one of the beds and hoseok trying to sit on the sofa bed only to misjudge where it is and end up taking a tumble onto the floor.

letting the door fall shut behind him, yoongi eyes them.

“were you… watching me through the peep hole?” he asks.

“obviously not,” says taehyung immediately. “that’s creepy. why would we ever do that?”

“your voice gets really high when you’re lying,” yoongi points out, and taehyung lets out an awkward laugh that is almost two octaves higher than his normal speaking voice. despite having caught them, yoongi feels himself grow nervous, but he plays it off as he slips off his shoes and his jacket, busying himself with other things rather than give either of them the opportunity to bring up why they were spying.

clearing his throat, yoongi approaches the mini fridge and opens it, peering inside. “did you two drink all the soda already?”

“why didn’t you get some at the cookie place?” asks hoseok, going right for the jugular, and yoongi freezes before his eyes turn to hoseok, who has decided to just stay on the floor. “or were you too busy spending all of your money on jeongguk?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” says yoongi, turning back to the fridge and deciding that its few contents are suddenly very interesting. “he just wanted like, one cookie. and i was being nice in going with him.”

“nice, he says,” says hoseok. “like he didn’t buy jeongguk several perfumes earlier today.”

“it was one.”

“i have photographic evidence, min yoongi.”

“you weren’t even there!”

“you think jimin and seokjin-hyung would let that shit fly without blowing up the group chat?” asks taehyung, and yoongi turns to him with a baffled expression.

“you guys have a group chat? without me?” he asks.

“relax, jeongguk’s not in it either,” says taehyung. “for obvious reasons, since the whole point is to gossip about you two.”

yoongi’s jaw drops, gaping at the two of them. they look so pleased with themselves, just dropping this kind of information all willy nilly. not to mention the rest of the group has apparently decided yoongi and jeongguk are a thing that needs to be gossiped about at all, as if they’re not just friends.

after a second, hoseok giggles, pointing to yoongi. “look at him,” he says. “hyung thought he was being subtle.”

yoongi finally closes his mouth only to frown at the both of them. “i’m not doing anything,” he protests. “jeongguk and i are just friends and we hang out like everyone else and it’s not my fault we have a lot in common and the rest of you are heathens who don’t understand that.”

“please, yoongi-hyung,” sighs taehyung, pulling out his phone like he’s bored with this conversation already. “it’s obvious that you like him. i almost threw up in my mouth when you were holding hands on the london eye and being cute and everything. like some of us are single.”

“i’m single,” yoongi mutters, but it goes unheard as hoseok quickly jumps into the conversation as well.

“honestly, we shouldn’t have come to paris at all,” says hosoek. “the city of love. that’s just a recipe for disaster with the two of you making heart eyes at each other whether or not the other person is looking. you’ve been talking non-stop about some of the stuff we planned but you’ve changed all of your plans around just so you can spend time with jeongguk.”

yoongi is appalled that hoseok even noticed. he was hoping that everyone else would be too busy having their own fun that they wouldn’t be able to pay attention to yoongi, but apparently he was wrong. apparently he was very wrong.

“it would be embarrassing if not for the fact that jeongguk clearly likes you back,” adds hoseok with a wave of his hand.

“probably even more than you like him,” agrees taehyung. “you should have heard him when we got back to the hostel in amsterdam after that first night together. god, he’s like a lovesick puppy. oh hyung, didn’t you see how his hair was sitting on his forehead and when he did that rap i think i almost came in my pants. i repeat, some of us are single.”

“the point is, hyung,” says hoseok. “you’re not subtle at all, so you can just stop trying to be. i mean, clearly you’re in that stage where you’re trying to decide if the other person is interested and what you want to do, but like, it’s gross. it’s going to be gross no matter what so you might as well go big or go home, right?”

“you’ll have to go home anyway,” says taehyung. “we’ve only got—what? two more days here in paris and then two stops in italy before real life comes to bite us all in the ass. plenty of time to fall in love and make everyone hate you.”

yoongi isn’t sure he could come up with an intelligent answer even if he tried. he’s baffled knowing that everyone is apparently aware of whatever secretive flirting he’s been trying to do with jeongguk—on both sides. yoongi’s friends know what he’s like when he’s interested in someone, but if jimin and taehyung have picked up on it, then it’s true that he’s not being subtle at all. and now they’re giving him their blessing or whatever to pursue jeongguk, a complete one-eighty from the warning that namjoon gave him back in amsterdam.

“you know, i always wanted to have one of those summer romances,” says hoseok, turning to look at taehyung now that they’re moving onto a new subject. “it looks like fun. you meet someone, have a whole summer together, and then maybe never see them again. or they’re always that story you tell your kids about who could have been their other parent.”

“to be honest, it’s depressing as fuck,” says taehyung. “but if i have to listen to jeongguk talk about yoongi-hyung’s beautiful, soft hands, oh my god, hyung, i want him to put his hands on parts of my body that don’t even exist, then i swear to christ i will not make it to italy.”

yoongi almost chokes, saved only by hoseok letting out a sharp laugh and then turning back to yoongi. “so yeah, hyung,” he says. “go out and get your boy or whatever. but also, if you’re going to do anything nasty, please request that you two room together in the future instead of kicking us out.”

finally, yoongi whispers, “what the fuck,” but hoseok and taehyung have already gone back to their own conversation. he can only stare at them as they talk about dramas and movies that involved summer romances and whether or not it works out—or can in real life. it’s easily the worst conversation he’s ever had, and most of it was one-sided. he has to wonder, of course, if jeongguk is being subject to a similar conversation—probably equally as painful, if not more considering he’s rooming with seokjin.

he just stands there for a long moment, unsure what to do with himself. he’s horribly embarrassed—not just about being caught, but also at the weird speech hoseok and taehyung have just given him. it feels as though his entire body is on fire with it, awkwardly glancing over at the door and taking one step there as though to escape before thinking better of it and turning back around before heading for the second bed. he would love to grab another beer to ease the embarrassment, but he knows if he leaves this room, taehyung and hoseok will tease him, asking if he’s going on a secret rendezvous with jeongguk.

and maybe he would like that. but for now, he’s happy to ignore his friends at all costs, bury himself in his phone, and try not to let his imagination run wild for the next day—and try not to let his imagination run wild as he thinks about his hands, about jeongguk’s body. about what else jeongguk might have told his friends in drunkenness.

(that night, yoongi dreams in golden light. he swears he can smell roses.)

》》》

“now, this, boys… this is a tower.”

“are you still on your big ben slander agenda?”

“it’s a fucking clock!”

“and this is a hunk of metal!”

“yeah, but at least you can go up this one.”

yoongi doesn’t know why anyone tries to argue with seokjin, snorting as he looks up at the eiffel tower. they’ve decided to take it easy today, having spent the morning wandering around near the hotel before grabbing lunch and then heading to a grocery store to buy enough snack foods to feed an entire army. but they’re determined to have a picnic by the eiffel tower, and everyone has to have their own selection of foods to eat in france.

but first—pictures. yoongi could take a million pictures of the eiffel tower and it would never amount to what it’s like to see the tower with his own eyes; even just seeing it looming over the city scape from farther away is mesmerizing, and now that that they’re standing on the lawn close enough that yoongi almost has to crane his neck to see the top, it’s almost overwhelming. he can’t wait to see it at night.

as he takes pictures, he hears his friends conversing in the background about the picnic and the snacks they bought, someone pointing out that they should have gotten alcohol—although as if summoned by that very thought, a man carrying a basket of wine bottles approaches them, clearly asking if they want to buy some.

yoongi lowers his camera, eyebrows furrowing at the man—but when he looks around the rest of the lawn, he sees a handful of other men carrying wine just like him, trying to sell it to tourists whether or not they’re here for a picnic or a romantic afternoon under the eiffel tower. even without being on the path to get up the tower, yoongi spotted countless people trying to sell eiffel tower merchandise, tiny keychains or even models of the tower that are over a foot tall. it makes the magic of being here a little less real, but now he’s glad that there is someone to sell them wine.

they hand over enough money to buy two bottles, sure that the man will be back to sell them more if they wish for it, and yoongi wanders back to the group as they put out the picnic blanket they brought—really just the storm blanket that jimin stole from the hotel, claiming that no one will notice it’s gone in the meantime—and the basket of snacks. like vultures, they immediately swarm around it, taking seats on the grass and digging into the various french food they brought as well as other snacks they spotted.

almost immediately, namjoon says, “would anyone be interested in some eiffel tower trivia?”

“did you memorize it or are you going to look off your phone?” asks hoseok, like he’s only going to listen if it’s one and not the other.

“i do actually know a lot of stuff about the tower,” admits namjoon, “but if it pleases you, i’ll just google it.” yoongi snorts at the look hoseok gives him, reaching over taehyung to grab some of the cheese that someone was clever to buy as seokjin pours them wine and hands the glasses around. even with all of the drinking they’ve been doing this trip, this feels different—a picnic in the park with six people he’s rather fond of and the eiffel tower as their view isn’t a bad way to spend the afternoon.

once the wine has been passed around, namjoon clears his throat and begins: “completed on march 31, 1889—”

“almost as old as seokjin-hyung, then?” jeongguk immediately interrupts, and seokjin practically lunges across the blanket toward him before yoongi thinks to put a hand out and stop him, even as jeongguk begins giggling.

“i’ll drop kick you off the tower, brat,” says seokjin, and jeongguk keeps giggling even as namjoon sighs with exasperation and waits for the two of them to calm down before continuing. yoongi makes sure seokjin has a full glass of wine to make him feel better.

“completed on march 31, 1889,” continues namjoon, eying them to make sure they’re all diligently paying attention, “the eiffel tower was the world’s tallest man-made structure for 41 years.”

after a second, jeongguk begins to say, “so almost as many years as seokjin has be—” but seokjin is quicker this time and does actually manage to get across the blanket to him, practically tackling jeongguk into the ground and spilling his wine everywhere. it creates an immediate commotion, yoongi jumping out of the way since he was directly in the splash zone, and jimin and taehyung start laughing as hoseok jumps in to try and clean it up, leaving seokjin and jeongguk to tussle on the grass for a few minutes.

by the time they manage to calm everyone down—although yoongi’s pants now have a wine stain, even if they’re black—they’ve separated seokjin and jeongguk and forbidden jeongguk from making another comment about seokjin’s age. by then, namjoon claims that he’s not going to give them trivia if none of them want to listen, but then they all beg him to continue—even if yoongi isn’t sure any of them were so adamant in the beginning.

either way, namjoon is pleased to pull out his phone again. “alright, alright,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. “the tower shrinks by about six inches in cold weather.”

“hm,” says taehyung. “you know what does the opposite of shrinking by six inches during cold weather?”

“your nipples?” asks hoseok.

yoongi stares at him. “why does taehyung have six-inch long nipples?”

“are you body-shaming me, hyung?”

“in 2008,” says namjoon, ignoring them and raising his voice, “a woman married the eiffel tower and even changed her name to honour the marriage.”

there’s a second, and then jimin says, “that’s fucked.”

“there are twenty thousand lightbulbs that make the tower sparkle at night,” says namjoon.

“also, it’s illegal to take pictures or videos of it at night,” pipes up yoongi, remembering something he read while researching for the trip. he sips at his wine as the others turn to him with vague expressions of horror on their faces.

“but what if it’s pretty?” asks taehyung. “you can’t just not take pictures of the eiffel tower at night.”

“you could,” says seokjin, “and risk getting arrested.”

“they can’t arrest everyone who takes a picture of the tower,” says hoseok. “that’s literally impossible.”

“just don’t post it anywhere,” suggests jeongguk.

“maybe you could if you were like, in a super famous band or something,” says yoongi. “you could pretend you didn’t know better. or know exactly what you’re doing but then the authorities know that they can’t arrest you since you’re like, a singer beloved by millions of adoring fans all over the world and you’re only in paris for a weekend and if they arrest you, it’ll ruin your world tour and everyone would try to overthrow the french government so it’s the french revolution but with people yelling your song lyrics and chucking cds.”

everyone stares at him. yoongi begins to question just how strong that wine is.

“anyway,” says namjoon after a second, “although most people take the elevator, you can climb the steps. there are one thousand, six hundred, and sixty-five steps to the top.”

“ah, fuck,” says seokjin. “my legs already hurt.”

“is it from your ol—”

“don’t you dare, jeon jeongguk,” snaps jimin, wrapping his arm around jeongguk’s neck and tugging him into a headlock. “be nice to your elders.”

“you’re just as bad!” complains seokjin, and jimin giggles, trying to distract seokjin by offering him more wine. it dissolves from there—namjoon concedes that trying to do anything remotely normal like offer facts about the tower is a disaster when it comes to the seven of them, and their conversation quickly devolves into other things as they share their snacks and wine.

even if it’s only two in the afternoon, yoongi can immediately tell that everyone is getting a little tipsy on the wine—but maybe that’s the point, all part of the experience. other men selling wine try to offer them bottles, but halfway through, the first man who sold them their wine comes back and literally chases the others away, yelling something about how these are his tourists—and for some reason, it’s so ridiculous that yoongi just starts laughing and then can’t stop until he’s flopped over on the cool, soft grass, staring up at the blue sky and the fluffy clouds making shapes. from here, he can just see the tip of the eiffel tower in his vision, some surreal moment of realizing where he is and who he’s with.

he loves this. it’s not even the wine talking.

yoongi closes his eyes, letting the world turn around him and over him and within him. eventually, he feels someone flop down beside him, their arms brushing, and without even opening his eyes, he knows. yoongi grins.

he remembers, suddenly, the conversation with hoseok and taehyung last night. this morning, they made a few more cryptic comments about it all, but yoongi hasn’t had a chance to get jeongguk alone—not that he thinks the middle of the day when they’re a little drunk on wine is a good time to make any sort of move. but it’s paris. it’s the eiffel tower.

jeongguk has had a lot of wine. yoongi would say he wasn’t watching, but he was—and even knowing jeongguk is a college kid who probably drinks vodka for breakfast during finals, it’s clear that he’s gotten wine drunk, more than the rest of them. when yoongi finally does open his eyes, lolling his head to look at jeongguk beside him, he sees that his cheeks are a rosy pink, flushed from the alcohol. his smile is crooked, looking up at the sky.

and despite being right next to their friends, knowing they’ll probably be watching and listening, yoongi doesn’t quite care. so he moves his hand across the grass until he can bump it against jeongguk’s, linking their pinkies together.

“good wine?” asks yoongi.

jeongguk giggles, like he’s been caught. yoongi’s heart swells at the sound.

“you know what i’ve been thinking, yoongi-hyung?” asks jeongguk, eyes trained on the sky. “i’ve been thinking… paris puts me in the romantic mood. it’s not like we’ve done anything really romantic, but they call paris the city of love and it’s all so cozy and fun and pretty. everything is so pretty and i could live here forever, i think, but i wouldn’t want do it alone. and sitting here looking at the eiffel tower makes me think about—about like, romantic movies, you know? and all of those great love stories and i want something like that, i think. maybe i just miss holding hands and someone kissing me when i’m sad. or when i’m happy. or just because they like me.”

it’s not what yoongi expected him to say. he’s not sure he’s equipped to handle this conversation when he’s not sober, when his thoughts have been running on attraction to jeongguk for days but this is something more—this isn’t just thinking that jeongguk is cute, not just thinking that a summer fling might be fun while they’re together.

in a way, he thinks jeongguk might be lonely.

“yeah?” yoongi asks, at a loss for what to say.

“yeah,” sighs jeongguk. “we should stay here, hyung. you and me. we could get one of those little apartments on the twelfth floor that has a view of the eiffel tower and we could eat breakfast in the window, on the balcony—eggs and toast and whatever french people eat for breakfast. and we could drink all the wine we wanted and go walking around the parks and have a dog. we should get a dog.” he turns his head to look at yoongi, suddenly, their noses almost brushing with how close they are.

yoongi sucks in a breath involuntarily.

“a french poodle,” says jeongguk with another giggle. “i bet people who live here never do the tourist things. never come to the eiffel tower, because there are millions of foreigners and it’s not the same. but we could. we could come here every night and watch the tower light up and sparkle and never take a single picture, not even because it’s illegal, but because we don’t need pictures when we’re here.” he bites his lip, eyes flicking downward. they’re too close to see much, but yoongi thinks he might be looking for yoongi’s mouth. almost as if it’s a conspiracy, jeongguk adds in a whisper, “and we could kiss under the tower, like a real movie.”

somehow, yoongi finds the bravery to whisper back, “what if i wanted to kiss on the tower instead?”

“wouldn’t it be a little crowded?”

yoongi licks his lips. “we could sneak in after hours,” he says. “when there aren’t any tourists or guards or anything. just you and me and paris at night.”

jeongguk seems to think on it, eyebrows furrowing a little as his eyes get wider. and the truth is that yoongi has no idea what he’s doing—where this is going—how it got here so quickly. suddenly, despite having spent the day yesterday only testing the waters, they’re already here, and yoongi is afraid that jeongguk might actually do it, might kiss him right here on the fucking lawn beside the eiffel tower while all of their friends are sitting a foot away and talking about something else.

and yoongi realizes—he’d let jeongguk do it. he’d let jeongguk do anything.

after a prolonged pause in which yoongi almost forgets what they were talking about, jeongguk finally whispers, “there’s a rock in my back.”

yoongi blinks. “what?”

with a groan, jeongguk tries to sit up. it’s a sorry sight—he’s definitely wine drunk and lazy, struggling to get up before he finally makes it and turns around to look at the stone that is indeed lying in the grass, an unfortunate placement. that stone seems to have interrupted whatever was happening between them, because then jeongguk gets distracted by the snacks rather than lying back down with yoongi.

yoongi just stares at the back of jeongguk’s head, pink hair matted slightly from the grass, and feels both entirely drunk and sober at the same time. after a time, his eyes shift to meet taehyung’s, who is sitting on the other side of the blanket and staring directly at him with a knowing grin on his face.

the disappointment is immediately replaced with vague fear and embarrassment as he thinks of the groupchat. and yoongi quickly sits up, running a hand through his hair to fix it as he makes a grab for the nearest bottle of wine, knowing he’ll need it.

》》》

after a slow afternoon and dinner, they head back to the eiffel tower for sunset. yoongi can feel a palpable buzz within the group as they head back across the lawn, past the wine-sellers fighting for people’s money, and then take the paths to the tower itself. they already bought tickets to the second floor, and as they get into line to go through security, situated under the tower, yoongi looks up at the massive metal structure. even having spent the afternoon beside the tower and having seen it looming over the cityscape while touring other parts of paris, it only hits him now just how big it is.

and how many fucking steps it is even to the second floor.

“so we’re climbing up, right?” asks jeongguk as they shuffle forward in line, a bright smile on his face.

“there’s an elevator for a reason, jeongguk,” says seokjin.

“i wasn’t talking to you since i assume it’s not safe for the elderly to climb that many stairs.”

“you know, yoongi is only like four months younger than me,” says seokjin, pointing to yoongi, and yoongi suddenly doesn’t like the attention. “why don’t you ever make jokes about him being old?”

“because,” says jeongguk. “he doesn’t look it.”

“and i do?”

“i’m not climbing up,” says taehyung, effectively diffusing the situation. “it would take too long and i want to get up there to take good pictures of the sunset.”

“ah, hyung,” jeongguk begins, but taehyung’s admittance sets off a string of agreement from the other members of the group; everyone has their own reason, but most of them have to do with just… not wanting to climb that many steps. each time, though, jeongguk looks a little more disappointed, until it’s only yoongi who hasn’t voiced his preference, and jeongguk turns his wide eyes on yoongi.

“no,” says yoongi immediately, holding up his hand. “don’t use your puppy eyes on me, jeon jeongguk. you are not convincing me to trek up like, seven hundred stairs with you.”

“but hyung—”

“i’d literally rather die.”

“please?”

yoongi huffs, lips curving downward into a frown. jeongguk looks so earnest, so excited at the very prospect of climbing the tower with yoongi—and all of their friends look extremely amused by it, too, since now they all know that yoongi has a massive soft spot for jeongguk. but there’s a difference between buying jeongguk perfumes and doing more cardio tonight than he’s done for the past year combined.

even if he loves spending time with jeongguk and hates to see him disappointed and would take any opportunity to be alone with him—yoongi has to draw the line somewhere.

“i’m sorry, jeongguk-ah,” he says. “i’m taking the elevator.”

jeongguk’s face falls, not even an act; he looks genuinely disappointed, so much so that yoongi almost takes it back. but the truth is that yoongi would always rather be sitting down in any given situation. considering how much walking they’ve been doing on this trip, he’s not going to give up a blessed elevator ride even to please jeongguk.

still—he can’t help quickly adding, “i’ll walk back down with you, though.”

beside him, hoseok snorts. yoongi throws him a look that tells him to shut up, but it does bring just a bit of that light back to jeongguk’s eyes, and that’s more than enough.

soon enough, it’s time to part ways, and jeongguk looks a little forlornly to the stairs access entrance—with no wait time, since, at least in yoongi’s opinion, only truly ridiculous people would climb up that many stairs when there’s a perfectly functioning elevator instead. glancing at where the rest of their friends have broken away from them, saving a spot in the elevator line, yoongi looks back to jeongguk and reaches out to brush a knuckle over his cheek.

“it’ll still be fun on your own,” he says.

“are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” pouts jeongguk.

“i would genuinely have to stop after a hundred steps and make you carry me the rest of the way up.”

“what’s wrong with that?”

“jeongguk,” laughs yoongi. “i’ll meet you at the top, okay? then we can enjoy paris together.”

jeongguk wrinkles his nose, cheeks reddening. maybe he’s thinking of their conversation in the park, those strange things they said to each other—and both of them are completely sober now, so yoongi doesn’t know what will happen. but his stomach turns with nerves anyway when jeongguk catches his wrist and presses his lips to yoongi’s knuckles before taking a step away.

“race you to the top, hyung?” he asks, bright again—and yoongi is so endeared, so mesmerized. at the top might be anything; it’s not just paris with the sunset hanging over it, everything lit up in golden light like yoongi’s dream. the air feels charged already, like they might spark if they touch each other again, and yoongi has to swallow around a lump that forms in his throat as he watches jeongguk walk backwards away from him. he knows, inevitably, that something will happen. it feels like a string between them has been pulled taut little by little since they met and now, finally, there is no more string to pull—nowhere else to go. nothing to do but snap.

“god help me,” he mutters when jeongguk finally turns around and jogs the rest of the way to the base of the stairs, leaving yoongi feeling like an open wound—all of that space for something else to get in, to burrow deep. to stay when he finally heals over it.

yoongi—along with the others—make it to the second floor of the tower before jeongguk does, of course. when they finally push their way through the crowd of tourists and get to the edge of tower to look out at the city, yoongi lets out a little sigh. the sun is just beginning to set, casting the sky in a sea of orange and red, the tiny lights of the city below winking up at them. from here, he can see—everything. paris sits before him in miniature, even some of the tallest buildings seeming like nothing in the distance. cars crawl like ants along patterned streets blooming from this very epicentre, as though the eiffel tower is the center of the world.

like they are.

beside him, namjoon breathes a, “wow,” and yoongi is inclined to agree.

other tourists press in on all sides, wanting the perfect picture of the sun setting over paris, and yoongi takes his own—but only one or two, choosing instead to enjoy the view without a screen between him and it. even then, he feels a momentary ache as he lets his eyes pass over the other tourists taking pictures, having pictures taken of them with the view in the background—couples, so many of them, holding hands, looking out together.

as if on cue, yoongi feels someone bump into him, a hand wrapping around his wrist and an out of breath hey murmured into his ear. startling, he turns to see jeongguk—face red and just beginning to shine with sweat, practically heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

yoongi stares. “did you run?”

“i said i’d race you.” jeongguk leans over, bracing his hands on his knees. “also—i didn’t run the whole way. it’s a fucking lot of stairs.”

“that’s what i told you.”

“did i miss the sunset?” he asks, straightening up again and trying to see the view even with all of the other tourists in the way. yoongi grins and leads the way to the edge, securing them both a spot. he lets jeongguk enjoy the view, but yoongi can’t take his eyes off of jeongguk instead—he’s seen paris just moments ago, and while he could look forever, he likes this better. likes the way jeongguk’s eyes widen with awe as he takes in the cityscape awash in golden light, how he mumbles to himself about pretty views and angles and architecture.

maybe there’s something he should say, finally—maybe all it took was being on top of the eiffel tower to understand this is no longer about historic landmarks or once in a lifetime experiences. maybe it’s just about—this.

whatever he might have said is interrupted by a familiar voice calling their names, and yoongi turns to see seokjin waving the two of them over to where the rest of the group has snagged a spot in the corner of the viewing area. joining them, yoongi can hear taehyung and namjoon debating the best way to get a picture of all seven of them with paris in the background.

“we can easily take a selfie of all of us,” says taehyung, “but then it’ll just be our faces and nothing of paris.”

“no offense to whoever built paris, but our faces are more beautiful,” says seokjin.

“i just feel bad asking someone else to take a picture of us,” says namjoon, and jimin immediately snatches the camera out of his hand—likely taehyung’s—before saying, “i don’t,” and approaching another tourist standing near them.

yoongi almost groans. he’s never been a fan of group pictures, especially where he can’t see what he looks like before the picture is taken. but the seven of them squish together into the frame anyway as the woman with taehyung’s camera stands back to take their photo. it’s the first they’ve taken of all of them, strangely enough; there wasn’t any time for it in amsterdam and no real desire to in london, but here, it feels like they’ve come farther.

jeongguk yells at them to make funny faces, and yoongi tries—but he glances sideways to see jeongguk wearing the most ridiculous expression and then he just starts laughing, and he doesn’t stop even when some of the others start giggling, too, and when the woman hands the camera back, yoongi sees those last photos: yoongi standing in the middle, head tilted back and mouth open mid-laugh, namjoon and jimin looking over at hoseok, who must have made a funny noise, while laughing, too, seokjin staring down the camera in one of his model poses, taehyung making a peace sign beside him, and jeongguk looking over at yoongi with so much fondness on his face that it frightens him.

but it’s good. this little group of them who came together by happenstance, a serendipitous meeting. out of all of the people to meet, of all of the people to bring along on this adventure, yoongi is glad it’s jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk. beyond that, he’s glad he has namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin in his life at all, glad that they could do this, glad that when he goes home, this will forever remain a part of him.

he says as much, when they turn back to look out at paris. the sun has slipped beyond the horizon, leaving an orange and red glow in its wake, and yoongi has never felt so lucky. he says, “i’m really glad we did this.” it’s embarrassing, sometimes, for him to speak like that—to be vulnerable, to admit all of these feelings. but it feels right, feels good. “i’m glad we came here together and worked it out. i’m just… i’m happy.”

yoongi worries they’ll tease him; his friends often do when he tries to offer them any long-winded message of affection, eager to see him blush even more than he does when he says such things in the first place. but maybe all of them feel it, too—what this means. because namjoon just says, “yeah, me too. even though i like my plans, this is the best detour i could have asked for. and i don’t think this trip would be half of what it is without all of us here.”

“we were honestly just going to get drunk and run around the whole time,” says jimin, “but i like this much better. i think i speak for taehyung and jeonggukkie too when i say we’re really grateful for all of this.”

“we’re grateful you wanted to come along at all,” says hoseok, and yoongi looks over to see him pulling both jimin and taehyung into side hugs. “i really thought we would just have one fun night in amsterdam, but it’s like you’re our missing pieces or something. like we were meant to be friends all along and it just took some weed in europe to make it happen.”

yoongi snorts. “i keep wondering what the chances are,” he says.

“it was fate,” says taehyung decidedly. “good karma. the universe wants all of us to be happy, even for a few weeks. so here we are.”

yoongi likes that—fate, the universe. inevitably, he finds his eyes shifting to jeongguk, who is standing a few people down in the group. and jeongguk is still looking out at paris, drinking it all in with a soft grin playing on his lips. yoongi thinks this must be fate, too. and if it is, he hopes the universe is on his side.

“this is getting too sappy for me,” says seokjin shortly, ears probably red. “what is it about paris that makes everyone turn into mush?”

“it’s the city of love, hyung,” says jimin. “we can’t help it. love is in the air. even platonic, brotherly love for each other.”

“for some of us, maybe,” mutters hoseok at yoongi’s side, low enough that only yoongi can hear it. he jerks his knee into hoseok’s in retaliation, even though he was kind of thinking the same thing.

with a stilted laugh, seokjin says, “well, you can all spread your platonic, brotherly love for each other but there’s someone down there willing to sell me shitty wine for very cheap—”

“ah, hyung, tell us how much you love us,” says jimin, physically holding seokjin back from escaping. “we know you do.”

“you’re all leeches!” complains seokjin. “you feed off of my life source. that’s why your hair is so bright.”

it seems their moment of professing their love has ended, even as seokjin finally admits that he does like everyone here. with the sky steadily getting darker, creeping into the night, yoongi informs the group that he’s going to walk around the tower and take pictures of the city from all four sides; he’s sure this one is the best, but he wants to see everything he can. they won’t have a chance to come back tomorrow, so he wants to take advantage of the opportunity he has now.

the others agree with him and they begin wandering around the walkway of the tour, squeezing through tourists to take pictures and admire the view, pointing out different things they find interesting. somewhere along the way, he finds jeongguk at his side, silently moving with him as they stop and take pictures of the view.

somewhere along the way, yoongi realizes the other five have mysteriously disappeared.

yoongi stops suddenly when he turns over his shoulder and realizes that taehyung and namjoon are no longer there even though they were just moments ago. the platform has become marginally less crowded after sunset, but he’s sure everyone wants to see paris at night, too. there’s a good chance that their friends are merely on a different side of the tower, but yoongi has a feeling that isn’t quite it.

licking his lips, he sneaks a glance at jeongguk. “where did everyone else go?”

“ah,” says jeongguk, rubbing at the back of his neck. “i think they went back down? jimin-hyung said something about them wanting to get churros at that little cart we saw down there.” he doesn’t say anything about the two of them joining the others—and yoongi doesn’t want to. suddenly, the nerves return, the ones he felt back on the lawn when he was full of wine and possibilities.

yoongi swallows tightly, watching jeongguk’s face and waiting for any sign that he wants out. but—there’s nothing. so he gestures toward the ledge, saying, “do you wanna…?” and jeongguk nods, biting back a grin as they squeeze through a group of tourists to stand along the edge and look out at the city together.

this side of the tower has less tourists on it, less crowded—less noise. it’s as close to alone as they’re going to get up here, and maybe it’s not the right place for whatever he feels is about to happen. but it’s the eiffel tower. it’s paris laid about before them, jeongguk’s words returning to him now as he thinks of how jeongguk said the city puts him in the romantic mood, makes him want to feel loved. makes him want want want.

yoongi wants, too.

“how do you like paris?” he asks, at a loss for anything else to say.

jeongguk looks at him with a sidelong glance, grinning as he says, “it’s everything i dreamed of and more.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” sighs jeongguk. “paris has always been one of those cities that i’ve wanted to visit since i was a kid. i used to have this book of a bunch of tourist spots, just like in-depth looks at the city and the sights and facts about all of them. i would come back to the chapter on paris again and again, imagining what it would be like when i finally got the chance to go.” he laughs, then, shaking his head. “i mean, as a kid, i dreamed more about… going to disneyland paris and eating enough cheese to explode, but it was mostly about how magical paris felt to me. and it still feels like that to me, being here.”

yoongi wants to kiss him so badly that it almost blinds him. yesterday in the hall of mirrors at the palace of versailles, he wondered what jeongguk would look like in that sunset, golden all around—but now he sees it. the dying light of the sunset leaves his face bright and delicate, the city falling asleep against the pink of his hair and of his cheeks, the shine of his eyes, his lips.

yoongi says, “i’m really glad. i’m glad it’s what you wanted.”

when jeongguk turns to look at him, it feels like—more. when jeongguk slides his hand along the railing until it bumps into where yoongi’s are resting, it feels like more.

it feels as though everything in the past few days has been leading to this exact moment atop the eiffel tower. like they’ve been teetering on the edge of something more, like all he has to do is lean forward before they both fall into it, whatever it is. yoongi would call himself a coward in love, always wanting to be open, always wanting to give but being afraid to, anyway—afraid of regretting it, afraid of making the wrong decision.

for the first time in a long time, yoongi realizes he’s not afraid. not anymore—not with jeongguk.

he has to remind himself that he’s only known jeongguk for five days. somehow it feels so much longer, feels like some part of him has known jeongguk his whole life, like he’s just been waiting for jeongguk to show up. like now, as he looks over at jeongguk again, that part of him can only sigh and say, oh. there you are.

“jimin-hyung was right,” says jeongguk, voice barely above a whisper. somehow yoongi hears it above the quiet din of tourists around them, camera shutters going off.

“about what?”

“i am really grateful to be here. and i’m really glad that we met. and that—you’re like a dream, yoongi-hyung. like you only exist here, just to drive me crazy. just to make me feel things i wasn’t expecting.”

yoongi’s breath hitches. without noticing, jeongguk has moved his body closer, almost brushing together. “yeah?” he asks.

jeongguk nods.

“it’s probably a bad idea,” whispers yoongi, even as his eyes flicker to jeongguk’s lips. “we’re gonna have to go home at some point.”

“not yet,” says jeongguk.

he knows it already—they both do. this is a ticking time bomb, waiting for the moment when they will have to part ways. yoongi already has a plane ticket back to seoul, and then he’ll go back to his apartment, like always. go back to work, like always. wish there was something more, like always.

and yet—he gets it. it feels like jeongguk is a dream, too, like he exists only here, only now. like this is the only chance yoongi will ever get, and he’ll regret it if he doesn’t at least try. when they first met, jeongguk told him that he would have to try letting go for once, trying something new, letting the wind take him like jeongguk does.

and maybe that’s it. maybe, despite how much of a bad idea this might be, yoongi doesn’t always have to have an iron grip on his life. maybe he doesn’t always have to be right, doesn’t have to do things the way he should.

maybe he should let go, lean over that precipice—sink deep deep deep with jeongguk and not worry about what will meet them at the bottom. maybe it doesn’t have to be about what’s at the bottom.

finally, jeongguk asks, “were you serious earlier?”

yoongi can’t think of anything but this moment and jeongguk’s proximity, fingers sliding over yoongi’s on the railing, so close that yoongi has to tilt his head back a little to look at him. “about what?”

“about kissing me on the tower,” says jeongguk.

“it’s not after hours,” whispers yoongi, but jeongguk is leaning closer anyway, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting over yoongi’s cheek. and yoongi can’t breathe properly, everything within him aching for it—

“i don’t mind,” breathes jeongguk, and neither does yoongi—yoongi doesn’t mind at all when it’s jeongguk; he would kiss jeongguk anywhere if it means jeongguk is with him at all, if it means jeongguk wants him, if it means what it does: that jeongguk leans ever closer, and yoongi tilts his head up, leaning into jeongguk’s delicate, careful fingers on his cheek. that yoongi lets out a little sigh, a sigh of finally, and closes his eyes, waits for the soft press, waits for the moment of free-fall—

“excuse me!”

yoongi physically startles at the shout from beside him, jerking so badly that he almost headbutts jeongguk directly in the nose as he turns to look at a couple standing beside them. it takes him a second to realize one of the women spoke in korean, and yoongi stares at them when it becomes clear that they were indeed trying to get his and jeongguk’s attention, even though they were clearly in the middle of something.

“uh,” says yoongi, realizing no other word has been spoken, and he feels himself flush as he decidedly doesn’t look at jeongguk, instead turning to the korean women. “yes?”

“would you mind taking a picture of us?” one of them asks. “paris is so pretty at night!”

yoongi continues to stare at her. but then he sees that the other woman is holding out a camera to him, and yoongi shakes his head to rid himself of whatever haze he entered, instead reaching for the camera and quickly stepping away from the edge of the tower to take their picture. he does his best considering he can’t quite think straight, capturing them from several angles before they thank him profusely and then leave him be, taking the camera back with a bow.

then they’re gone, and yoongi is left to stand there, not entirely sure what just happened.

finally, he looks at jeongguk. he refused to make eye contact the entire time, knowing they were just interrupted in the middle of attempting to have their first kiss—which is awkward enough on its own, but now he feels as though he can’t just run over and finish what they started. the moment is gone entirely, ruined by fellow tourists. and the women were nice, of course, just wanting a picture taken; they couldn’t have known the gravity of the situation.

but they still ruined it.

looking sheepish, jeongguk finally makes eye contact with him, and yoongi feels at a loss on what to do or say. suddenly, he just feels kind of cold. it’s windier on the tower than he felt before, and the sunlight has almost completely been leeched from the sky, leaving everything dark. there’s nothing more to see.

so he clears his throat, awkwardly returning to jeongguk’s side but leaving a foot between them. “should we go back down?” he asks. “it would be nice to see the tower all lit up from the bottom, and um… we should probably head back to the hotel. make sure the rest of them didn’t get dragged into a pyramid scheme selling wine or something.”

jeongguk laughs a little awkwardly, but quickly agrees, and doesn’t even mention that yoongi promised to walk down the stairs with him; they ride the elevator in silence, instead, crammed into the car with a cluster of other tourists.

their friends aren’t at the bottom of the tower, nor are they anywhere on the path as yoongi and jeongguk make their way back to the street. it’s too dark to see anyone else, anyway, and once they reach the stand selling churros that the others must have stopped at without any sign of them, yoongi takes a moment to look back up at the tower. it’s glittering with the thousands of lights placed on it, looking like something even more magical in the night—and despite the disappointment of their interruption, yoongi can at least appreciate that.

“do you wanna go back to the hotel?” jeongguk asks. “i’m kinda tired.” he looks sheepish again as he says it, averting yoongi’s gaze, and yoongi feels something clench within him. but he readily agrees, leading the way to the nearest subway station to head back to their hotel.

it’s not a long ride, but they spend it in silence. not awkward or uncomfortable, but—yoongi feels like somehow, they’ve just paused. all of that tension from earlier is still there, waiting to snap on them, and he’s worried that they’ve somehow lost their chance. even then, jeongguk leans against him on the subway, eventually letting his head fall against yoongi’s shoulder where they sit. when the people across from them leave, yoongi can see them in the reflection from the window, and he hopes jeongguk’s eyes are closed so he can’t tell yoongi is grinning.

at their subway stop, they head back into the night. their hotel is only a few blocks away, and yoongi knows that their friends might be there when they arrive—and even if they’re not, this night of theirs will have ended. the magic of the eiffel tower and paris will have worn off just a little, and he feels now more than ever that he can’t let any of this slip through his fingers. seizing the moment, he thinks—that’s what jeongguk has been pushing him to do.

their hands brush and bump as they walk, the streets dark and dotted with other people. without saying a word, yoongi finally turns his hand and catches jeongguk’s fingers, tangling theirs together until he can hold jeongguk’s hand, hold him—feeling warmth spread through him palm to palm, pulse to pulse.

turning down the street to their hotel, jeongguk finally sighs. “i already miss paris and we’re still here,” he says. “i don’t want to leave.” yoongi thinks of those hypotheticals—the apartment high above the city, the breakfast on the balcony, the dog. wouldn’t it be so easy to have it? to leave behind the life he’s worked so hard to build, to give into temptation?

“we still have most of tomorrow,” says yoongi, swinging their hands between them. “lots more sightseeing to do.”

“i know,” says jeongguk. “it’s just—i dunno. it’s different.” but yoongi gets that. gets that tonight feels different, is different. when he looks ahead, he can see their hotel, and a great urgency rushes through him. a want, a need; he looks at jeongguk and jeongguk is so beautiful in the moonlight, so kind and lovely, and yoongi wants.

he doesn’t want to spend the rest of this trip dancing around it, regretting what might have happened—thinking if only they had had the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity. it’s not about that. not about the control.

he waits until they’re almost to their hotel, then, walking past a side street. and then he changes courses, tugging jeongguk sideways into the dark street as jeongguk lets out a yelp of surprise. there’s a closed bakery here, an awning over the door that casts it in shadow, and yoongi pushes them both into it, shielded from the street and its lamps and its tourists.

“what are you doing?” whispers jeongguk, stumbling to a stop when their toes knock together in their shoes.

“i know it’s not what you wanted,” says yoongi. “but i hope it’s okay, anyway.”

“hyung?” asks jeongguk, impossibly confused, and yoongi swells with affection, with want—finally takes all of his chances, taking hold of jeongguk’s face with both of his hands, tugging him down as yoongi rocks onto his toes, and kisses him.

he feels more than hears jeongguk’s gasp of surprise, but neither of them pulls away. rather, jeongguk’s response is immediate: he slides a hand over yoongi’s collarbone, catching around the back of his neck to keep him close, closer, and leans into it. his lips are soft under yoongi’s, pliant. he tastes vaguely like wine, more like whatever magic he claims paris holds, because jeongguk is the most magical thing in paris. he’s the most magical thing in this whole fucking universe.

the moment of urgency bleeds out into stillness, something unhurried in the way jeongguk parts his lips to let yoongi in further. yoongi tilts his head to slot their lips together better, thinking of stars and laughter and how jeongguk tastes like dreams, like honey and wine and desire. thinking of how jeongguk feels like a forever thing, like finally reaching the finish line at the end of it all.

yoongi rubs his thumb over jeongguk’s cheekbone, soft and slow. careful. he is always careful with jeongguk. they hold each other like something delicate, coming together after what is only five days but has felt like years, like a lifetime. yoongi feels like he’s waited for jeongguk for a lifetime.

finally, he pulls back, breath hot as their lips part with something audible. he keeps his hold on jeongguk’s face as they separate by only an inch, breath mingling. he slides a hand down to thumb at jeongguk’s bottom lip, staring at the shine on it before yoongi’s own lips crook upward. he says, “sorry it’s not the eiffel tower. not even under the eiffel tower.”

jeongguk shakes his head, dipping forward to press another urgent kiss to yoongi’s lips like he can’t get enough. “i don’t mind,” he whispers when he pulls away—then kisses yoongi again, again. “hyung, i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” asks yoongi, a strange insecurity suddenly overtaking him. “because earlier you were talking about—about all of that stuff, and we were on the tower, and those people interrupted us so i thou—”

“hyung,” says jeongguk, sliding both of his arms around yoongi’s shoulders to tug him closer, until yoongi wraps his arms around jeongguk’s waist, until they’re chest to chest. he presses a kiss to yoongi’s nose, the side of his mouth, the apple of his cheek. “if i’m kissing you, it doesn’t matter. i could kiss you at a mcdonald’s and it would still be perfect. it’s perfect because it’s you.” he punctuates the words with another soft kiss to yoongi’s lips, one that yoongi chases after, daring to let his tongue slide along the seam of jeongguk’s mouth as he does so.

even so, he pulls away again, cheeks heating. “that’s disgusting,” he whispers. “i don’t want you to kiss me in a mcdonald’s.”

“i will just to spite you. and you’ll probably love it.”

“you’re getting mighty cheeky considering this is still our first kiss.”

jeongguk giggles at him, peppering kisses all over yoongi’s face—his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. always his lips, returning again and again. “i’ve wanted to kiss you forever,” he mumbles against yoongi’s skin, and yoongi is so—happy.

he pinches jeongguk’s side, giggling when he says, “you’ve only known me for five days.”

“what you don’t know is that we’re actually minor deities that have been reborn as humans a thousand times over and we always find each other, you know, and we’re always supposed to be together but sometimes it doesn’t work out—”

“you are so full of shit,” groans yoongi, trying to break out of jeongguk’s hold even as jeongguk giggles, even as jeongguk kisses him again. and yoongi gives in; he’ll always give in, aching for just one more kiss, just one more touch.

on a dark street in paris, yoongi kisses jeongguk for the first time.

and maybe some part of it feels like—

(love.)

》》》

over continental breakfast the next morning, conversation is light. it’s their last day in paris and they have a variety of sight-seeing on their schedule before taking an overnight train to venice in the evening. despite always discussing the coming day in the morning before anyone is fully awake, this time it feels a little pointed, at least to yoongi.

maybe it’s because he knows there’s an elephant in the room, this great secret he holds beneath his tongue. maybe it’s because when he got into his hotel room last night, hoseok and taehyung weren’t even there, and when they returned an hour later claiming they, along with the others, had gotten caught up wandering around looking for more snacks, neither of them said anything about the time in which yoongi and jeongguk were left alone.

despite all the teasing they did and permission they gave, they made no mention of jeongguk at all. not even a lewd and how was your night? even though that should realistically be what yoongi wants, it unnerved him.

it still does.

he sips at his coffee as he watches the others discussing their day, all seemingly ignoring what yoongi can’t stop thinking of—or maybe they genuinely don’t think anything happened. he’s distracted only by something bumping into his leg under the table, and yoongi shifts his eyes to jeongguk sitting directly across from him, holding his own tea cup against his lips. again, jeongguk’s foot bumps his calf, clearly in more than an accidental way, and just looking at him—yoongi feels a stupid grin on his lips, trying to hide it behind his coffee mug the way he sees jeongguk is doing the same.

he’d been worried that things might be awkward when they saw each other this morning, that one of them would regret it once the lights were back on and reality set back in. but they’d ridden the elevator down to the breakfast room together and those butterflies had come back alive again, fluttering into his throat just at seeing jeongguk, just at being in close proximity to him.

halfway down, jeongguk had slipped their hands together, just for a moment. at the bottom, the moment before the doors opened, he had leaned down and stolen a kiss, nothing more than a swift peck on yoongi’s lips, and then giggled as he left yoongi standing in the elevator in some state of shock and red from head to toe.

so—he doesn’t think he has anything to be worried about.

at least, that is—until he hears jimin complaining about the older members buying tickets for the younger members, saying it isn’t fair, saying that it feels like namjoon, seokjin, hoseok, and yoongi are like their fucking sugar daddies, and seokjin replies, “i don’t think you or taehyung have much to offer in that arrangement, to be honest. but yoongi’s good to go, because jeongguk can just make out with him in exchange.”

yoongi chokes on his coffee.

it goes down his windpipe, making him cough as he sets his mug down and tries to regain control of himself. it’s not without some trouble and hoseok, sitting beside him, whacking him on the back a few times, and most of the others giggling at such a dramatic reaction.

still, by the time yoongi has calmed down, now red in the face from both choking and from the insinuation that made him choke—refusing to look jeongguk in the eye—he says, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“c’mon, hyung,” says taehyung. “you don’t have to pretend for us. we obviously know.”

yoongi’s cheeks flare redder and redder, floundering for something to say or do that will keep him from having to have this conversation. he settles on snatching the croissant off of hoseok’s plate and stuffing half of it in his mouth in one go, mumbling, “i’d like to opt out of this conversation,” around the crumbs.

the others laugh, but he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at them. certainly not wanting to look at jeongguk, even though he bumps his foot against yoongi’s leg again. “i’d actually like to know the story,” says jimin. “it was my idea for all of us to disappear on the eiffel tower, by the way. proper romantic shit up there.”

“i wanted to watch,” says seokjin. “just putting that out there.”

“that’s creepy,” says namjoon.

“you wanted to watch, too!”

“it didn’t happen on the tower,” says jeongguk suddenly, and the table falls into silence. yoongi’s head snaps up to look at jeongguk, eyes wide in panic as he silently begs him not to say anything; even if it’s clear that everyone knows something happened, he’s not interested in sharing all of the dirty details with his friends. still, jeongguk just looks at him for a moment, his own cheeks a rosy pink, and then adds, “we got interrupted by someone asking to take a picture. so it happened outside of the hotel.”

“what?” asks jimin, sounding offended. “i came up with this brilliant plan and did everything on our part to execute it perfectly, and you didn’t even get your stupid fairytale kiss on top of the eiffel tower? fuck. we have to go back.”

“hyung,” laughs jeongguk. he takes a sip of his tea, eyes downcast as he says, “it was perfect, anyway.”

yoongi lets out a groan as the table erupts in wild cooing and laughter, hanging his head so he doesn’t have to see their faces. he can feel hoseok pulling him in for a side hug and someone else clapping him on the shoulder on his other side, and it’s the single most embarrassing moment of his entire life with their laughter and jeering and demanding to know more. it would have been impossible for them not to know, considering they easily picked up on yoongi and jeongguk’s attraction to each other in the first place, but jeongguk didn’t have to say anything.

“does that mean you two are going to be sneaking off to kiss all the time now?” asks namjoon. “i swear to god if you mess up our plans just because you’re infatuated with each other—”

“we’re adults, joon-ah,” yoongi finally says, risking lifting his head to look over at his friend.

“just don’t do it where we can see, god,” adds hoseok. “also if you fuck—”

“oh my god,” says yoongi, burying his head in his hands again. he doesn’t want to listen to the rest of that sentence.

thankfully, it’s jeongguk who comes to his rescue, reaching over the table to put his hand on yoongi’s wrist and saying, “stop teasing him, he’s easily flustered.” yoongi lifts his eyes, glaring for a moment. “and you shouldn’t be talking, hoseokie-hyung. i’ve seen the way you and taehyungie-hyung have gotten all buddy buddy this trip.” that causes an uproar from both taehyung and hoseok, and the conversation easily shifts from talk of yoongi and jeongguk to talk of them instead with hoseok vehemently denying any such accusation and taehyung honestly feeding into it by asking what their cuddle session last night meant if not that they were going to fall in love and adopt ten dogs together when they get back to korea.

it’s chaos around them, as usual—but in that moment, even with the everlasting embarrassment, jeongguk squeezes yoongi’s wrist. and yoongi looks at him, and the happy little grin that jeongguk gives him is infectious. feels like golden light and sunny skies, feels like the start of something more, finally. like he’s been waiting, and here it is—here it is.

they don’t tease yoongi or jeongguk again, at least not during breakfast. yoongi knows he’ll have to expect it every waking moment from here on out, especially if he and jeongguk even try to do anything remotely romantic—like holding hands or sharing food or even looking at each other. but despite how flustered it makes him, yoongi isn’t sure he really minds. because it’s jeongguk—because he has jeongguk now, because he would take any amount of teasing just to have jeongguk holding his hand like this, holding him back when they’re exiting the breakfast room and waiting until the others have disappeared around the corner before tugging yoongi back in and kissing him again, soft and sweet and full of sunlight.

and if they do spend the rest of the day trying to find opportunities to steal kisses or tangle their fingers, no one has to know. and if yoongi feels like sunshine every time, feels like galaxies are born and hearts are mended this way—no one has to know, either. no one but jeongguk, maybe, who makes him feel all of this and more, who leaves him wanting every time. who giggles into his mouth, who holds his heart like something precious.

who makes him—golden.

Chapter Text

yoongi has never seen water so blue. he presses his face against the window of the boat, mesmerized by the turquoise water surrounding them, the wake from the boat announcing their presence and creating massive ripples through the water-logged city. he can feel the salty breeze through the open window, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing it in.

when he opens his eyes again, he watches another boat drift past them in the other direction. when it passes, yoongi allows himself to look out at the city they’re sailing toward—venice. it rises out of the blue blue water, seemingly impossible. he heard it’s sinking, wonders if generations from now, his own descendants will have this opportunity, to visit the city built on the sea.

he’ll take more than enough pictures for them, just in case.

it’s not the first time yoongi has visited venice; a family vacation when he was a teenager took them around italy, to venice and rome and florence. he loved it enough to not mind visiting again, especially since it’ll be a much different experience this time—with six of his friends, all of them much rowdier than his family, and he can actually drink this time. there are only so many tourist attractions to visit, but this is one time he’ll concede experiences might be more important than that.

and besides—he has jeongguk here. and yoongi would go anywhere with jeongguk.

they dock near st. mark’s square and the seven of them head into the square, squinting up at the palace and clock tower and basilica surrounding them. the square is packed with tourists milling about and taking pictures, waiting for some of the cafés and restaurants lining the square to open.

“so,” says namjoon, hands on his hips. “what should we do first?”

“what does the schedule say?” asks jimin, to which namjoon shrugs.

“fuck the schedule for one day.”

“kim namjoon fucking the schedule?” gasps hoseok. “say it isn’t so… i never thought i’d see the day.”

yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes. “it’s not like there’s a lot to see here, anyway. you can basically walk venice in half an hour. this place is really fun to just explore, so it actually works better to not have much of a plan.”

“it’s the principle of the thing, hyung,” says hoseok. “let me bask in joon deciding to let his hair down for the first time in his life.”

after a second, seokjin makes a comment about the clock tower—apparently that’s what he’s really interested in on this trip—and yoongi chuckles as it dissolves from there, as usual. at yoongi’s side, their arms brushing, jeongguk says, “i’d like to go into the palace and see the basilica and stuff.” yoongi turns to look at him, realizing that jeongguk is speaking only to him—that he seems not to care so much what the others want to do, rather wanting to inform yoongi of his plans, in case yoongi wants to go with him.

something warm fills yoongi up from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. this thing is still new, still makes him nervous even though he’s melted into it, let it overtake him. he’s stopped being scared of it, rather trying to push down the insecurity when jeongguk looks at him like that, a little more shameless than yoongi could ever hope to be. their friends still haven’t gotten tired of the teasing, although yoongi has tried to be less embarrassed about it considering they have to tease about everything: yoongi and jeongguk holding hands, yoongi and jeongguk spending time alone, yoongi and jeongguk walking beside each other. every time they so much as look at each other, someone is wolf-whistling in the background.

the only thing to do is ignore them, because yoongi knows it’s not going to stop. and the truth is that he’s learning not to care—because jeongguk doesn’t care so much, and even teases yoongi along with the others. and they don’t have time to be self-conscious about it, anyway.

before they can even think about sneaking off together—because yoongi is thinking about it—some of the others pipe up that they want to do some sightseeing around the square. all seven of them head off together, then, beginning the scorching day by hiding away from the sun.

after, they wander through the winding streets of venice to find lunch. the buildings are stacked on top of each other with no room to expand outwards, leaving the narrow streets between them packed with tourists both seeking solace from the hot sun and trying to explore the city.

“i want pizza,” says taehyung almost immediately as they venture away from the square, squeezing through a pack of other tourists.

“it’s too hot for pizza,” counters jeongguk. “let’s just get gelato.”

“we’re not just getting gelato for lunch,” says namjoon. “that’s unhealthy.”

“we’re on vacation, hyung,” says jeongguk. “that’s the point.”

yoongi can only laugh, lifting his camera to his face as they turn down another street and he sees the sun peeking out over the top of one of the buildings looming over them. he pauses to take a few pictures, the voices of his friends debating what to eat soon melting into the din of other tourists speaking countless languages, a mosaic of the world contained within this collection of tiny islands.

when he lowers his camera, he realizes he can’t even see them ahead of him. the street ends not far from where he stands, and he’s quick to hurry down it and take a turn, hoping to catch up to the others before they get far. even having been before, yoongi realizes how easy it is to get lost; one wrong turn would lead to a whole other part of the city, so he isn’t surprised when he turns down a street and comes to a little bridge over a canal, this side area almost completely devoid of tourists—including his friends.

yoongi considers it—he does like being alone at the best of times, but losing his friends in a winding city like this isn’t a good idea. nonetheless, he can’t help stepping out onto the little bridge and looking down the canal at the row of bridges that connect this island and the next. the water is a calm turquoise, the buildings on either side of it salmon and peach and off-white, like something out of a dream.

he raises his camera again, taking pictures of the long canal. he can catch up with the rest of them eventually if he just follows the smell of pizza, likely.

he doesn’t have to worry, though—before he even finishes taking pictures, he hears footsteps slapping against the cobblestone of the street and then a familiar, “hyung!” turning, he finds jeongguk taking the steps up to the bridge, looking only slightly out of breath. “oh, thank god.”

yoongi’s eyebrows furrow. “what?”

“seokjin-hyung thought you might have fallen into a canal.”

“or he wishes i did.”

jeongguk’s face scrunches up with his grin, only his front teeth poking out. yoongi’s heart swells. “they were seriously worried, though. i should have known you were just trying to escape everyone.”

“i got distracted,” yoongi admits, gesturing to the scenic view in front of them. “venice is gorgeous.”

“yeah,” jeongguk agrees, finally turning to look at the canal. yoongi watches him instead, seeing his shoulders relax the longer he looks. maybe jeongguk was the one so worried about yoongi, realizing he wasn’t among the group when he inevitably looked for him, reached for him, wanted to know what he wanted—and maybe they’ve already come so far as to want that, for it to be second nature to come together in the midst of this chaos, a constant safe haven.

yoongi isn’t sure what to make of that.

after a moment, yoongi glances both ways down the bridge. there are no other tourists in sight, and certainly none of their friends, so he shifts closer until he can shyly slip his hand into jeongguk’s, threading their fingers together. immediately, jeongguk looks at him, a goofy grin on his face, and yoongi tries to ignore the heat of his face as he tugs jeongguk in, rocking up on his toes so he can press a delicate kiss to jeongguk’s lips. he feels more than hears jeongguk giggle into it, turning to face him fully, and yoongi grins, reaching for jeongguk’s other hand, and—

“hey!”

yoongi jumps away from jeongguk, leaning around him to find seokjin standing at the foot of the bridge, hands on his hips. “are you already trying to sneak off to make out? it’s only noon, you disgusting love birds. taehyung’s been crying about pizza for five minutes, jimin keeps trying to disappear into clothing stores, namjoon is bemoaning the lack of a schedule, hoseok is just—hoseok, and now you two think you can run off and giggle as you try to swallow each other’s faces. i don’t think so. not on my euro trip!” with that, he marches up the bridge toward them and forcibly separates them as he reaches out and takes one of yoongi’s hand and one of jeongguk’s in his own. then he turns around and starts marching them back down the way he came.

seokjin keeps muttering about them as they walk, dragging yoongi and jeongguk back into the streets of tourists and presumably toward where he left the other four to their own devices. behind him, yoongi sneaks a glance at jeongguk to find that jeongguk is trying to hold in a giggle. it’s not the first time they’ve been caught or interrupted, but yoongi can’t help it; he wanted to spend every waking moment of this trip with jeongguk before they even kissed, and now that he doesn’t have to be shy about flirting or holding hands, it’s like a dam has broken. now, he rationalizes that he can see his own friends whenever he wants back at home. he doesn’t know what will happen with him and jeongguk when they go home, so he has to make the most of it now.

or maybe he just really likes kissing jeongguk. jeongguk’s lips are soft and always taste vaguely of strawberry chapstick. kissing jeongguk makes yoongi feel like he’s not safe, not hiding in a comfort zone—but it’s the best decision he could make, to take chances, to step over the ledge and fall down down down this rabbit hole.

as he leans over to try and steal another kiss, he hears seokjin snap, “don’t even think about it, min yoongi.” and as much as he likes kissing jeongguk, maybe just this once it’s not worth invoking the wrath of a hungry and exasperated kim seokjin.

after lunch, although yoongi wants to find some restaurant that will serve him vodka at one in the afternoon so he can sit in the shade and escape the rest of the tourists here, jeongguk convinces him to join the others as they head out for a glass blowing demonstration. it’s a huge industry in venice—making any sort of glass work, like decorations or glasses or chandeliers. he’s been to one demonstration already, but when jeongguk pouts at him, yoongi knows he has no other choice.

it’s not that watching the demonstration isn’t mesmerizing—it’s sitting in the demonstration and hearing his friends quietly gossip about it that makes him regret several of his life choices. he already knows the man is making a glass horse, first rolling the hot glass and then beginning to shape it with tongs, constantly moving and pulling until the horse becomes recognizable. but jimin still leans over and says, “it looks like a dick?” to which jeongguk and taehyung begin giggling uncontrollably, like the college kids they are.

“it’s not a dick,” hisses yoongi, smacking jimin in the knee. “don’t be a child.”

“but it looks like one,” insists jimin.

“would a dick have legs like that?” he points to the glass decoration, which now has two points protruding from it as the man shapes the horse’s front legs.

after a second, jimin says, “you mean your dick doesn’t look like that?”

always with the worst timing possible, seokjin leans over and says, “ask jeongguk. i saw him practically trying to give yoongi a blowjob on the bridge earlier.”

as yoongi’s face bursts into flames as hot as the ones used to heat the glass in the demonstration, jimin and taehyung begin giggling again, and it’s jeongguk who says, “we were kissing, hyung. please, neither of us are indecent enough to whip it out in public.”

“wait, so you’ve already blown him?” asks seokjin.

yoongi drops his face into his hands.

“i feel like there’s a joke here,” says jimin. “about blowing and glass blowing… come back when i’ve thought of it.”

“answer my question,” seokjin hisses, reaching over jimin to pinch yoongi’s thigh.

“it’s none of your business if i have,” says jeongguk. “although i’ll have you know we’re taking this slow.”

“slow, he says,” scoffs taehyung. “you’ve known each other for a week and you’re practically in love.”

“can you four pay attention?” hisses namjoon at the tail end of the group. yoongi has never been so glad for namjoon in his entire life, because the scolding manages to end the conversation with everyone else, who immediately face front and watch the rest of the demonstration without any further comment on dicks or blowing.

although—now yoongi is distracted. because now he can’t stop thinking about it, about he and jeongguk being in that sort of position. it’s only been less than two days since they actually admitted their attraction to each other; it’s all still new and he doesn’t know what it is yet, what it could be. and yet he finds himself glancing at jeongguk, wondering—wondering. for now, he gets heated enough just kissing jeongguk. but in this close of quarters, being around each other for every waking hour of the day, it’s only so long before they need something more.

until yoongi finds himself starting to get handsy.

as the group of tourists around them breaks into applause, meaning the man must have finished the demonstration and is presenting a glass horse as the fruits of his labour, jeongguk glances back at him. his cheeks are a rosy red, not just from the heat of the sun outside or the heat of the room in here. yoongi quickly looks away, trying not to imagine what jeongguk would look like—well. doing that.

but yoongi is imaginative. sometimes he just can’t help it.

he distracts himself by intensely examining every glass item on sale once they’re led through to the show rooms. countless figurines, wine glass sets, candle holders, chandeliers—even other decorations, religious ones or otherwise. animals and charms and jewelry, too, all set in brilliant colours: reds and blues and yellows, some smooth and some jagged, dripping with other colours, and all brilliantly handcrafted, the showroom boasts.

yoongi doubts anything would survive in his suitcase until he gets home. but he entertains the thought, anyway, purposely avoiding jeongguk for the first time since they made eye contact in amsterdam; every time he looks at jeongguk, he feels his cheeks begin to heat again, unwanted mental images crowding in front of his eyes. it’s for his own sake rather than trying to avoid any teasing, and he quickly sticks to namjoon’s side as his friend examines a rather intricate glass tree.

“getting a souvenir?” asks yoongi.

namjoon snorts. “not for this price,” he says, and when yoongi looks, he frowns. “it’s beautiful, but i could get the same thing for a quarter of the price at some home décor shop in seoul.”

“it’s not authentic, though, i guess,” says yoongi. “maybe i’ll get like… a shot glass. surely those are cheaper.”

“saving on yourself so you can spend more on jeongguk?” namjoon asks, turning a teasing grin on yoongi.

and yoongi can’t help but give him a deadpan glare. “you too, joon-ah?” he asks. “must all of my friends turn on me?”

“c’mon, hyung,” laughs namjoon. “you can’t deny you were thinking of it. all he has to do is ask nicely and pout and you’d give him the whole world. you’re infatuated.”

it’s the truth, of course. yoongi has been infatuated since day one, and namjoon could see it—namjoon warned him, didn’t want yoongi to get reckless with his heart. that was days ago and things have progressed well beyond yoongi getting attached. now, with just the two of them off in a separate corner from the other five, yoongi takes advantage of it.

“so, uh,” he begins, awkwardly clearing his throat as he turns back to the glasswork in front of him and admires a glass elephant. “about that… me being infatuated, i mean. me and jeongguk in general, i guess—”

“you don’t need my blessing, hyung,” says namjoon, guessing where the conversation is headed. “i’m not your keeper. i’m just a good friend trying to look out for you. honestly, i was just worried that jeongguk wouldn’t like you back, but we’re well beyond that.”

yoongi huffs out a laugh, still not looking at namjoon. “i just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“i never could be, yoongi-hyung.” after a pause, yoongi looks up to find namjoon staring at him intently, wanting yoongi to know it’s nothing but the truth. “you’re an adult and you can make your own decisions, especially ones like this. whatever happens, you’re allowed to let yourself be happy. and if it turns out sad at some point, i’m not going to rub it in your face. i’ll be there, like always, and i’ll try to make it better.”

yoongi has been trying not to think of it—the inevitable end. they can’t stay here forever, as much as he wants to. they can’t remain in this dream-like state of traveling europe, falling in love over thousands of miles and in hundreds of different currencies, languages. but part of yoongi wants to pretend, because thinking of the end only makes the middle bittersweet. and yet, ever realistic namjoon, ever down to earth and understanding and planning ahead namjoon—he is every reminder yoongi needs to hold onto this, to appreciate it. thinking of the end doesn’t have to be sad, he decides. it can just make him grateful for the time they do have.

“i love you, namjoon, you know that?” asks yoongi. “if you want that tree, i’ll buy it for you.”

“ah, hyung,” comes taehyung’s voice suddenly from beside them, and yoongi nearly jumps when he turns to see taehyung looking at hoseok. “why don’t you offer to buy me things?”

“do i look like i have enough money for this place?” asks hoseok. “ask me to buy you something less expensive and i’ll gladly hand over my credit card.”

“how about dinner?” asks taehyung. hoseok just grins.

at length, yoongi turns back to namjoon and asks, “why don’t you ever tease them like you tease me and jeongguk? they’ve probably been fucking since london but all you seem to care about is me and jeongguk brushing hands when i pass him the salt at dinner.”

“because, hyung,” says hoseok, suddenly at his side and throwing an arm around yoongi’s shoulders. “it’s more fun to tease you two. you get all red and embarrassed and deny everything as if we can’t see the love blossoming before our eyes. try to tease us and we’ll just scar you with all the nasty details.”

yoongi grumbles, shrugging hoseok’s arm off of his shoulder, because he knows it’s true. there’s no point in teasing someone who won’t even react—but yoongi can’t help it. he just likes jeongguk so much. (and he does offer to buy jeongguk something if he wants it, later when the others have had their fill and head out of the showroom, and jeongguk hangs back because yoongi does. jeongguk grins at him, pecking him on the cheek, and tells yoongi he can just buy jeongguk dinner, too. yoongi likes that better, anyway.)

they go through much the same thing at a lace demonstration afterwards, going to a showroom in a school that teaches young women how to weave lace—another industry in venice. they have tablecloths and doilies, christmas decorations, clothes of all kind—and wedding items, of course; yoongi purposely avoids anyone’s gaze when the woman pulls out a whole tray of thigh garters, even if they are rather pretty. still—he finds himself thinking of jeongguk’s thighs, always straining against some of the tight pairs of jeans he wears. he swallows hard, looks away. between that and being assaulted with the image of jeongguk between his legs, yoongi’s not sure he’ll last the afternoon.

they spend little time looking over the items there, although several of the group buy cheaper items either for themselves or mothers, fathers, grandparents. yoongi escapes the moment he can, claiming he needs fresh air.

when they convene again, namjoon suggests one of the most iconic experiences of venice: gondola rides. even if it can get expensive, it’s the only thing all four of the original members of the party agreed upon, wanting the authentic italian experience. at this point, yoongi is convinced gondola rides are only for tourists, but he wants that anyway—and hopes he might get a singing oarsmen.

it’s been a good morning and afternoon, yoongi knows, but the only time he and jeongguk have had apart from the others was that brief moment on the bridge which was immediately interrupted. and this trip isn’t just about them, but maybe seokjin was right—yoongi does want to sneak off with jeongguk, wants some time to themselves. so when the group is trying to decide who should ride with who in the gondolas, yoongi immediately volunteers himself and jeongguk to take the first one.

no one is surprised—and after only a little teasing, they agree. taehyung mentions that he’ll try to pay the oarsmen extra to sing can you feel the love tonight from the lion king while he rows, but yoongi doubts they’ll take bribes.

they sit side by side in the gondola, pressed thigh to thigh even though there they don’t have to, and the oarsman stands behind them, gently guiding the boat through the canals of venice. romantic gesture aside, yoongi is astounded by it all—how blue the water is, how sunny the sky is, how beautiful the city is. they drift through the water, passing under bridges and by other gondolas carrying other tourists, the oarsmen calling out greetings to each other.

their oarsman doesn’t sing like in the movies, but jeongguk does take his hand, leaning his head on yoongi’s shoulder as they float through venice together. for one of the first times this entire trip, yoongi doesn’t take out his camera—doesn’t even think about it. for once, it’s not about sightseeing or capturing the beauty of the place so that he can appreciate it when he goes home, goes back to his life; now, it’s just about being. it’s about being with jeongguk.

as the oarsman turns them down another canal, drifting past looming houses and apartments, yoongi turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of jeongguk’s. “what about here?” he asks.

“hm?” asks jeongguk without lifting his head.

“we could stay here, too, instead of paris. or we could do both.”

jeongguk hums, squeezing yoongi’s hand.

“we could rent one of these apartments instead, high above the water of venice, and grow flowers in the windowsill and sit there, looking out at the tourists on their gondolas,” says yoongi, tilting his head toward the sky as he sees the houses, their windows, all of that possibility. “we could get lost here. explore every nook and cranny of this city, all of the places tourists are too lazy to find. eat gelato until we get sick and buy a boat so we can go anywhere we want, like a wide open sea. and everything is just ours.”

after a second, jeongguk asks, “can we still get a dog?”

yoongi grins, kissing jeongguk’s head again. “we can still get a dog. maybe two.”

“and we can still kiss?”

he thinks of their joking earlier, licking his lips as he pushes down the embarrassment, the need to run as he murmurs, “we could do more than kiss.”

jeongguk sits up straight so quickly that he almost headbutts yoongi on the way up. and then he just stares at yoongi for a second, until yoongi feels himself turning red, facing front again. he’s glad that the oarsman likely can’t speak korean when jeongguk whispers, “actually?”

“i mean,” coughs yoongi, “if you wanted.”

before jeongguk can respond, though, the oarsman says something to them and steers the boat into a small dock to their right. yoongi can still feel his face burning as they dock and climb out of the gondola, thanking the oarsman and offering him a tip. when he gets back in the gondola and sails off again, yoongi and jeongguk stand on the dock together, looking back at the canal; their friends will be coming soon, having taken the gondolas directly after the two of them, and yoongi worries at his lip as he waits for them to arrive.

but there’s something thrumming underneath his skin, this need to just get jeongguk alone for a little longer. he wants more, wants to touch. suddenly, it’s the worst place to be—on a vacation with his friends, whom he’s supposed to spend time with. suddenly, he just wants—jeongguk.

he looks down the canal again, and when the next gondola doesn’t immediately appear, he reaches out for jeongguk’s hand again. “what if we just… left?” he asks.

jeongguk’s brows furrow. “what do you mean?”

yoongi tilts his head toward the nearest street, one that disappears into the next cluster of buildings. “they can fend for themselves, right? it could just be me and you and all of venice.”

slowly, jeongguk grins. it starts with his eyes, the undersides of his eyes swelling before his lips turn upward. he rubs his thumb over the back of yoongi’s hand, glances down the canal, and then giggles as he tugs yoongi away from the dock, the two of them disappearing into the sprawling maze of venice together.

he feels like a teenager again as they hurry hand in hand down the cobblestone streets, not looking back. yoongi has no idea where they’re going, merely pulling jeongguk down one street and letting jeongguk pull him down another until they’ve gotten lost, until they find themselves far from the dock, where their friends might be now, and from any tourists. by the time they come to a stop, jeongguk pulling him halfway down another shaded street that’s entirely deserted, yoongi can’t even hear another person other than the two of them laughing, breathless.

jeongguk pulls him in and yoongi goes willingly, goes until they can meet in the middle in a kiss of laughter and heartache. jeongguk presses him against the wall, cool against his back, and kisses him deep, hand cupping his jaw. there’s something unhurried about it—unworried about being caught, least of all by their friends.

it’s only been a few hours since they last kissed, probably, while leaving their hotel, but somehow, time has warped here. somehow, it feels like yoongi has been waiting for days, starving for some small piece of jeongguk’s attention, just to know that jeongguk still wants him. it feels like something out of a movie, like his life isn’t real as jeongguk melts against him, parting his lips to let yoongi’s tongue delve inside his mouth.

jeongguk tastes like stardust.

their mouths move together, over each other, yoongi’s hands curling around jeongguk’s waist to press him even closer. yoongi would kiss jeongguk in every country in the world, he thinks, just like this—slow and wandering and wanting. and maybe they’ve only known each other for just under a week, and maybe it’s too quick to think of such things, but there’s no use in denying the way his heart stutters when jeongguk scrapes his teeth over yoongi’s lip, giggling when yoongi jerks his head in response, almost smacking it against the wall behind him.

when jeongguk’s hand trails down his neck, over the collar of his shirt, down down down until he gets to the hem of yoongi’s shirt. yoongi arches into him, getting lost in it all, and when he feels jeongguk’s cool fingers on his skin under his shirt, he lets out a muffled yelp and shoves jeongguk away from him.

“hyung,” giggles jeongguk again, coming back to him with wandering hands; his lips are cherry pink, the same as his hair. “you can tease about me blowing you but get scared when i touch you?”

“your hands are cold,” yoongi scoffs. “and you’re not going to blow me in public.”

“i would,” says jeongguk, wiggling his eyebrows before he dips down to capture yoongi’s lips again. “if you wanted. there’s no one here—”

“jeon jeongguk,” scolds yoongi, pushing him away again. he’s a little too breathless, all from some kissing—but it’s kissing jeongguk, who makes his heart whole, who leaves him always wanting more. it’s strange, he thinks; he’s twenty-five years old, has been in numerous relationships before, has had flings and hook-ups, has liked people so much it aches.

but it’s never felt like this.

jeongguk is giggling at him again, eyes pressed into sparkling crescent moons. somehow, he’s a north star. when he kisses yoongi again, it’s quick and soft, so he moves onto yoongi’s nose and the mole on his cheek and his chin, peppering yoongi’s face with kisses until yoongi groans and tries to push him away again—with much less gusto this time, because maybe he doesn’t mind.

“it’s too hot for this,” huffs yoongi as jeongguk laughs at him, kisses him again again again.

“we could just go back to the hotel,” murmurs jeongguk. “i’m sure no one would miss us.”

“taehyung went to the bathroom yesterday without telling anyone and jimin almost called a search party for him,” says yoongi. “i don’t think we can just fuck off for the rest of the day.” besides, they’re meant to have a fancy italian dinner together back by the square they started in—and yoongi has been looking forward to pasta for a week. but it does give him an idea.

jeongguk whines at him, and yoongi finally takes his face into his hands, planting a kiss on jeongguk’s lips as he squishes the younger man’s cheeks together. “we can make out for a while,” he says. “and then we can go exploring on our own. get gelato and coffee or something. would you like that, baby?”

jeongguk makes a noise that sounds a bit like he’s been strangled. it makes yoongi grin, just a little; jeongguk has been taking the lead in this thing a lot, mostly because yoongi still feels the need to panic every time jeongguk looks at him, but he knows how flustered jeongguk can get. and he knows that he wants to show jeongguk how much he likes this, how much he wants this.

with his cheeks squished, jeongguk’s voice comes out funny when he says, “yes, please.” yoongi leans forward to plant another kiss on his puffy lips before letting go and turning away from the side street, hoping to find coffee—but jeongguk catches his wrist, tugging him back with a giggled, “you said we could make out more!”

“i didn’t mean here.”

“you can’t call me baby and then walk away, min yoongi,” growls jeongguk, and yoongi shrieks with laughter as jeongguk pushes him back against the wall and attacks him with kisses again, more insistent this time.

“baby,” croons yoongi, just to hear jeongguk make that noise again, just to make jeongguk kiss the word right out of his mouth, the power already going straight to his head.

》》》

they explore the less crowded parts of venice, where tourists have yet to wander and for a moment, it feels like this is just for them. they find magical bookshops and tiny churches, find countless bridges and canals by which they take pictures, walking hand in hand and pausing at every street corner to steal a kiss—just one more, yoongi always thinks. just one more.

eventually, they find a little ice cream shop selling gelato and coffee, each buying a massive scoop—in a waffle cone for jeongguk, in a cup for yoongi—and a cup of coffee for yoongi before sitting out in the little square the shop is next to. a few other tourists sit in the square, reading or conversing with others, and yoongi chooses a shaded table to sit beneath as he watches jeongguk lick his ice cream.

jeongguk catches him staring, pulling his cone away from his mouth as he asks, “what?”

“nothing,” grins yoongi. but the truth is that he can’t stop thinking about how lucky he is to have this, to have met jeongguk at all. to be here in venice, to have run away from their friends to be together in peace for once. he can only imagine the onslaught of teasing and lecturing they’ll receive when they all meet at the restaurant later, but yoongi doesn’t mind, not when he gets an afternoon with jeongguk out of it. he can almost imagine this is just normal for them, just another sunday afternoon. maybe they could stay here. maybe yoongi wants to, because the alternative is something he can’t think about just yet.

jeongguk grins at him, leaning over to give yoongi a kiss sticky with ice cream. when yoongi licks his lips, they taste like cotton candy and mint chocolate, a combination he thinks he’ll forever associate with jeongguk.

“how’s your coffee?” asks jeongguk.

“tastes like coffee.”

“need help keeping up with such a strapping young lad such as myself?”

“is that supposed to be an innuendo?”

from the way jeongguk’s cheeks flare, he’ll guess not—but he’s brought it there nonetheless. yoongi can’t stop thinking about it, anyway, about how he’d wanted jeongguk’s hands to wander earlier, how he wants to map out jeongguk’s body like they’re mapping out europe. he wants to say it’s too early, but they don’t have much time to begin with. in fact, he thinks he’s done remarkably well keeping his hands to himself thus far, considering how attracted he’s been to jeongguk since the first night.

in any case, jeongguk sits back in his seat, sliding down a little as he bites into the side of his cone. “i will have you know i have a lot of stamina,” he says. “i do a lot of sports and working out and stuff. like, on a totally unrelated note.” he’s grinning wide, squinting with one eye from the brightness around him. he looks—entirely shameless. not for the first time, yoongi wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

“good to know,” nods yoongi, sipping at his coffee.

“i also, uh,” continues jeongguk before giving a soft cough, “have been feeling a little sick? since we got here.”

“wait, really?” asks yoongi, sitting up a little straighter as his first instinct is to find a way to make it better—but jeongguk giggles, licking at his ice cream.

“no, hyung,” he says. “but they don’t have to know that.”

it takes him a second, and then yoongi relaxes, sipping at his coffee again as he watches jeongguk over the top of his cup. jeongguk is still grinning crookedly, chewing on his cone with that shit-eating grin yoongi has gotten so used to.

he nudges his foot against jeongguk’s under the table. “well,” he says. “if you’re not feeling well, don’t feel like you have to go out tomorrow. rest is important, obviously, since we have at least a week left of the trip and we don’t want you to miss out on more because you don’t nip this illness in the bud.”

“very wise, yoongi-hyung,” says jeongguk. “are you sure you’re not the nurse between us?”

“i’m just looking out for you. and if you’re feeling sick, you certainly shouldn’t go around kissing people in case you spread whatever you have.”

giggling, jeongguk kisses him wetly, like he’s trying to slobber all over yoongi’s face, and yoongi can’t help laughing along, simply at how ridiculous it is. and how their friends will kill them—but he doesn’t care so much about that, not when he and jeongguk will always be on the same side.

》》》

the next morning, as yoongi nervously watches namjoon, seokjin, and taehyung hurry about the hotel room and grab the items they need for the day, he says, “i’m uh, actually thinking of staying in today?” it comes out as a question, all three of them stopping to look at him with some degree of confusion in their eyes. “at least for the morning,” yoongi quickly adds. “i’m feeling pretty tired, and to be honest, i’ve explored enough of venice. already having been here, i feel like i’ve seen all i want to…” he trails off, merely praying that the three of them will buy it, or at least agree to let him stay in without much fuss.

namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “aw, hyung,” he says. “it’s our last day in venice, though. are you sure?”

“don’t worry about it, joon-ah,” says yoongi. “like i said, i’ve been here before. and maybe i’ll decide to venture out during the afternoon. plus we’re all going to hang out in the evening, right? i just want to escape the sun for a while.” that part is true, at least; yoongi isn’t used to getting so much sun and since they’ve been walking around outside almost every day since they arrived in europe, it is beginning to take a toll on yoongi’s body.

not that much, though.

it’s taehyung who says, “jeongguk could probably convince you to come out.”

yoongi lets out an awkward laugh. “not even him this time, sorry.”

when he glances at seokjin, the other man has an extremely suspicious look on his face. but he doesn’t say anything, thank god, and after only a short argument wherein namjoon and taehyung try to persuade him to come out with them for the morning, they finally agree to let yoongi stay in. they promise to text if there’s something they think he should see, and he promises to text if he decides to venture out of the hotel. but then, without much further discussion, the three of them finish finding their bags and waterbottles and hats, clambering out of the hotel room shouting goodbyes to yoongi.

then—nothing but silence.

yoongi takes a breath, looking around the hotel room. they splurged on this one—as if they haven’t on the others—and got rooms in a hotel overlooking the water not far from where the train station is that takes them to the old city of venice. it’s not quite the same, but the water is still blue blue blue, and the sky only has a smattering of fluffy clouds in it. both hotel rooms have a balcony attached, wide doors letting in the sunshine, and yoongi busies himself with cleaning to keep from itching himself out of his own skin.

he does a half-assed job at making both beds, then putting together the pull out bed in the sofa against one of the walls. he cleans up some of the rubbish they’ve left: water bottles and alcohol cans, food wrappers, other papers. he cleans up some of their clothes, too, only realizing now just how messy four of them can be when crammed into a relatively small space even for two nights.

at the last second, he throws a do not disturb sign on the door, just to make sure housekeeping doesn’t come knocking. once he’s done all that, he checks the clock and sees only fifteen minutes have passed. he feels—antsy, nervous. he shouldn’t, but yoongi can’t help it. can’t help wandering aimlessly around the room for a few minutes before throwing open the doors to the balcony and standing out in the sun and then realizing it’s just making him overheat.

without much else to do, yoongi decides to jump in the shower. it does something to soothe the tightness of his muscles, at least, the hot water helping him relax. once he’s gotten dried and changed, he wanders back into the unchanged hotel room, checks the time again, and finally forces himself to sit down on the couch with his phone in hand. the least he can do is waste time on social media or looking up the news.

still—some part of him can never pay attention to that, too high-strung to do anything but wait and listen. it’s been almost an hour since the others left, which means there can’t be much else to do, which means—

there’s a knock at the door.

despite the knock being soft, yoongi nearly jumps out of his skin as he stands up and practically throws his phone across the room, letting it land on one of the beds. immediately, his stomach twists into knots, and he has to wipe his hands on his pants as he heads for the door. but—he has to remind himself.

it’s just jeongguk. and jeongguk makes him feel safe.

when he opens the door, jeongguk is standing on just the other side, clad in all black; a loose long-sleeved shirt and joggers. his pink hair is still drying from the shower he must have taken, falling limp and loose in his eyes. yoongi can just see one of his tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt. yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“hey,” he says, leaning against the door.

jeongguk licks his lips. “hi,” he says.

yoongi swallows, and then steps back so he can open the door, silently inviting jeongguk inside. even though their rooms are identical, jeongguk steps inside like he’s seeing it for the first time—but it’s different. this is yoongi’s room. he seems to get stuck near one of the beds as yoongi closes the door behind him, and then yoongi wanders across the room to take a spot on the couch again. jeongguk remains standing, thrumming his fingers against the top of the armchair opposite yoongi.

for a time, they just stare at each other. yoongi has to wonder if jeongguk feels nervous, too, if it’s just him not wanting to mess this up somehow, if he’s the only one who feels so deeply and wants so badly that it terrifies him. he shouldn’t feel this way about a boy he met a week ago, a boy who will realistically be nothing but a summer fling.

it feels like some part of yoongi has known jeongguk for a very long time. like they’re made of the same star, like this whole time, they’ve just been searching for each other. until—now. until—this.

finally, yoongi asks, “what did you tell them?”

“i felt sick,” says jeongguk. “jimin insisted on feeling my forehead and everything, but i don’t think they really suspected anything. jimin turns into a mother hen whenever i mention i feel under the weather, so he wanted to go out and get medicine and everything.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “maybe that wasn’t the best excuse.”

“they did leave, though,” says yoongi. “so it worked.” maybe he should feel bad about it—essentially lying to their friends like this. but god knows they’ll never get a private moment otherwise, and as he’s already learned, just escaping for a few hours while already out isn’t always going to be ideal. they shared enough kisses and handholding yesterday to get their fill, to finally need more.

and yet—that nervousness is almost palpable, like yoongi can smell it. jeongguk won’t stop moving, dancing his fingers along the nearest ledge. it’s a small tell, but a tell nonetheless, and yoongi takes a deep breath. he can be the brave one today.

so he lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers at jeongguk in a silent plea for him to come over. and jeongguk’s grin starts in his eyes again, as it so often does, softening as he makes his way over to yoongi and takes his hand so yoongi can pull him onto the couch with him. they sit squished in the middle, yoongi immediately beginning to absently play with jeongguk’s hand in hopes of somehow calming him down. calming them both down.

“you’re cute,” he says.

“hyung,” whines jeongguk, sinking down a few more inches on the couch. “stop.”

“it’s true, though. you’re the cutest person i’ve ever met.”

“i’m manly.”

“you can be cute and manly at the same time.”

still, jeongguk groans. he lets yoongi play with his fingers for a while before he asks, “do you think they know?”

yoongi snorts, lifting jeongguk’s hand so he can press a kiss to his knuckles. “almost definitely.”

“god. we’ll have to run away to switzerland to escape the shit they’ll give us.”

“isn’t it worth it?”

jeongguk looks at him, yoongi’s mouth still pressed to jeongguk’s hand. he can see the thread of nervousness there—in the tight line of his shoulders, in the cloudiness of his eyes. when he lowers jeongguk’s hand, it’s into yoongi’s lap, where he clasps both of his own hands around it. “you don’t have to be nervous,” he says.

jeongguk huffs. “like you aren’t.”

“i’m a naturally anxious person, jeongguk,” says yoongi. “i’ve been nervous since we first met. but you know—you make me calm. you make me feel like i have nothing to worry about.” it’s the truth; he’s so used to having his plans, to sticking to what he can be sure of, to having control. but he’s not had control of this relationship since the beginning, since it all became a whirlwind of feelings and desire. but somehow, with jeongguk, he doesn’t worry. somehow, with jeongguk, it just feels—right.

and when jeongguk grins at him like that, he knows it’s all true.

“that feels like a love confession,” says jeongguk, even as he leans closer, eyes flickering between yoongi’s eyes and his lips.

“nah,” laughs yoongi. “that’ll come later.” and jeongguk laughs, leaning closer still, and yoongi grins, meeting him in the middle as they finally collide in a gentle kiss. this, at least, is familiar. yoongi could spend hours memorizing each crease and press of jeongguk’s lips against his, and would, if they had time. even now, he feels the minute hand moving too quickly, not just on today, but on their entire trip.

and yet—jeongguk makes him feel infinite. makes him feel forever, like this could go on and on and they would never have to worry about another thing. he sighs into jeongguk’s mouth, nerves almost immediately bleeding out; no matter where they go, what they do, it’s just the two of them. and with jeongguk, yoongi knows there’s nothing to worry about. it’s like—maybe the universe meant for this to happen. maybe for once, he can let something outside of himself take control.

yoongi tilts his head to deepen the kiss, one of his hands leaving jeongguk’s to slide up to his face instead, tugging him closer. he feels jeongguk’s tongue pressing against his lips, wanting in, always wanting in—and yoongi will always let him in, curling his own tongue around jeongguk’s. he tastes like toothpaste and mouthwash, a fact that makes yoongi snort even though he knows it’s what he tastes like, too.

jeongguk pulls back just a little, questioning, and yoongi tugs him back in for another kiss, more heated this time; they don’t have to worry about strangers finding them, their friends catching them. finally, they’re alone, and yoongi lets whatever fire has been burning underneath his skin for the past day grow until he fears it’ll burn them both.

but jeongguk presses back in the same way, purpose behind the kiss as his lips slide over yoongi’s. something stutters within yoongi’s chest, something with wings—thinks it might be his heart, trying to beat right out of his rib cage, and he has no means of holding it down when jeongguk shifts, making a noise into yoongi’s mouth as he suddenly lifts himself up one knee and swings the other over yoongi’s hips, sliding into his lap without breaking their kiss.

it’s—closer than they’ve been since this started, and yoongi is keenly aware of where their chests are pressed together, where jeongguk’s ass presses into his thighs, just far enough away that it doesn’t make either of them jolt. like this, yoongi has to tilt his head up to meet jeongguk’s lips, hands wandering down to jeongguk’s chest, his waist, ghosting his fingers everywhere he can reach.

he’s impatient; wants more now, wants everything jeongguk wants to give him. they can have time for more later, maybe—exploring each other’s bodies until they can do it with their eyes closed, spending lazy afternoons in sun-soaked hotel rooms with tangerines and wine and television in a language they can’t hope to understand.

wouldn’t it be so easy, he thinks—wouldn’t it be so easy to just stay here with jeongguk, to live by the sea, to kiss until they get sick of it, and then to kiss some more? wouldn’t it be so easy to forget about everything else in his life, to get high on jeongguk’s lips and body alone? he would. he wants it, this low thrumming in his stomach reminding him of an urgent reality wherein jeongguk is in his lap, a comforting weight on his thighs, one hand combing through yoongi’s hair as he kisses yoongi hot and heavy.

when yoongi finally breaks away to breathe, he can practically hear jeongguk’s heart pounding over the sound of their ragged breathing; he drags his lips down to jeongguk’s jaw, kissing over the sharp line of it and then moving onto his neck, down down down. jeongguk stretches his neck up, giving yoongi easy access, and lets out a strangled groan when yoongi squeezes at his waist at the same time. he kisses over the edges of jeongguk’s tattoos that are peeking from his collar, suddenly realizing he can taste them now—can explore them, can learn every piece that jeongguk has kept hidden away.

his blood sings.

when he brings his lips back to jeongguk’s, they kiss with a renewed vigor; jeongguk presses him against the back of the sofa, sliding his hips closer into the dip of yoongi’s with a new purpose. they’ve kissed—they’ve been kissing, have been teasing and flirting about something more, and yoongi knows there’s nowhere else this can go.

still, he lets out a surprised moan when jeongguk rolls his hips down against yoongi’s, only realizing then that he’s half-hard. he can feel the press of jeongguk’s cock through the line of his sweatpants, doing little to hide anything, but that’s—the point, isn’t it? his stomach rolls with anticipation, rubbing his hands over the thick muscle of jeongguk’s thighs as jeongguk does it again, again, moving his hips a little harder and faster with each roll.

when they break away again, jeongguk leans his forehead against yoongi’s, their heavy breath mingling between them. yoongi would be ashamed of how quickly he’s gotten hard, but—it’s jeongguk. and he’s been waiting for days, could hardly sleep last night thinking about it. and maybe he’s not the only one, with the way jeongguk’s movements have gotten less languid the more worked up he’s gotten, grinding directly against the bulge of yoongi’s cock in his jeans.

“shit,” yoongi finally sighs, letting his head fall back against the sofa, and jeongguk laughs at him, taking the opportunity to kiss the underside of yoongi’s jaw.

“haven’t even done anything yet,” says jeongguk, although he sounds as breathless as yoongi feels.

“whatever,” huffs yoongi. “you’re just like, the hottest person i’ve ever met and you’re doing that in my lap, so i think i’m allowed to be a little overwhelmed.”

he can hear jeongguk’s smirk from here as he grinds down particularly hard on yoongi, making him groan again. “that so?” he asks. “gonna come in your pants like a teenager, yoongi-hyung?”

yoongi squeezes jeongguk’s thighs, not entirely kindly, and lifts his head. “yeah, and then i’ll immediately fall asleep and ruin this entire thing,” he says. “so we better hop to it.” it’s a little ridiculous, maybe, to be joking about it—but jeongguk grins at him, all bright despite how flushed his cheeks are, and leans forward to kiss yoongi again. he stills his hips—yoongi misses the friction almost immediately, but his cock jumps knowing what comes next will be better.

“we’re not hopping to it on the couch, though,” says jeongguk against his lips.

“but i slept on the couch,” says yoongi, leaning back as he comes to that realization. he turns his head to look at the two double beds on the other side of the room, both still unmade from their friends sleeping in them.

neither of them says anything. then—“i didn’t think about that,” says jeongguk. “i mean, i have a bed in the other room?”

“do you really want to get up and awkwardly walk down the hall like this?” asks yoongi.

“we can just… ask the housekeeper for a sheet change after,” says jeongguk, even though they both know they’ll probably forget, otherwise occupied. or maybe they just don’t have to tell anyone else about it; they’re only sleeping here for one more night, anyway, and yoongi can just kick one of his friends out of the bed they used. and if he’s being honest, his cock isn’t enjoying the stall of time anyway, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

so he turns to look at jeongguk again, a bit of a smirk on his lips. when jeongguk meets his eyes, yoongi laughs and then kisses jeongguk sweetly before scooping his arms under his ass and trying to stand up—trying being the operative word, because it doesn’t work too well, and he curses himself for not working out more often as jeongguk shrieks when yoongi stumbles and they nearly topple over. if he wasn’t feeling half boneless already from a little grinding, he swears he could do it, but jeongguk just laughs at him as they manage to get over to the bed, falling on top of each other.

yoongi pushes the few belongings off of the bed—noting that it’s namjoon’s, then, from the book and pile of clothing he just unceremoniously dumped on the floor—before crawling on and between jeongguk’s legs, reattaching their lips. almost immediately, jeongguk rakes his hand down yoongi’s front and then pushes them under his shirt, fingers cool against the heat of yoongi’s skin. he shivers just slightly, nipping at jeongguk’s bottom lip in retaliation and then kisses it better.

they only get so far before getting impatient again as yoongi sits up long enough to tug off his shirt. he’s never been overly confident in his body, but jeongguk doesn’t seem to care as he pulls off his own shirt and they fall to the ground before both of them meet in the middle again, hands wandering, hips moving together as heat pools in the pit of yoongi’s stomach.

the next time yoongi pulls back, he finally gets a good look at the tattoos on jeongguk’s chest and torso; he sees the skeleton and crown tattoo that jeongguk told him about in london, stretching over the side of ribcage. he sees a variety of flowers, skeletal hands making a pinkie promise, and a list of numbers, maybe years. he gets distracted looking at them, hovering over jeongguk’s heaving chest as he reaches out to touch, pressing the pads of his fingers into the ink.

jeongguk doesn’t say anything and yoongi mutters, “pretty. just like the rest of you.” this time jeongguk groans, dropping his head back. “what? it’s true.”

“i’m going to kiss you so you can’t say nice things to me and make my heart as hard as my dick.”

“i think making your heart hard means the opposite of making your dick hard, though.”

“you know what i mean, hyung.”

yoongi does; he laughs, dipping down to press kisses into the tattoos curling over jeongguk’s skin, tracing the edges and lines and curves of them. he wants to add his own art to jeongguk’s skin, wants to mark him up between the ink, but—he’s reminded of his own need, cock straining against the confines of the denim he wears. they can rush this one, he thinks, can have time to come back and do it differently later. as far as he’s concerned, they have this whole hotel room to themselves for hours.

he notes the way jeongguk keeps arching into him, seeking more friction as yoongi finally brings his lips back to jeongguk’s, and decides to slide his hand between them, sliding it over the hardness in jeongguk’s pants. jeongguk lets out a gasp, hips bucking into yoongi’s hand, and now it’s yoongi’s turn to laugh, even though jeongguk doesn’t seem to care; yoongi does it again, pressing a little harder around jeongguk’s length until jeongguk can grind up against his hand, wanting more.

so yoongi dips his hand under the waistband of jeongguk’s pants, pulling them down until he can get a hand around jeongguk’s cock. and jeongguk gasps again, into yoongi’s mouth, arching up into him as yoongi pulls his cock out, slowly running his hand over it. after a second, he looks down and then kind of pauses, rubbing his thumb over the head.

almost nervously, jeongguk says, “what? are you scared of my massive schlong?”

yoongi’s laugh is almost a hiccup, turning his eyes back to jeongguk. “you’d call that massive?”

“oh my god, that’s mean, hyung!”

“i didn’t say it was small!” protests yoongi, kissing the side of jeongguk’s mouth in consolation. “sorry, bad joke. i was just admiring you.”

jeongguk’s cheeks flare as he grumbles, “can you admire me without being fucking embarrassing?”

but yoongi can’t help it—can’t help the way he can fluster jeongguk when he tries, and it’s the only way to keep his own nervousness at bay. he’s realized that he could be, could get flustered and afraid the way he’s been for days, but he wants this to be good. and he knows that jeongguk is in the exact same position, so he does his best, kisses jeongguk again, finally shucks off his own pants and underwear and lets jeongguk feel him, too, rutting against each other with heavy breath and desperation before yoongi finally murmurs, “baby.”

jeongguk shivers underneath him, hand sliding into yoongi’s hair. “hyung,” he says, voice thick.

yoongi kisses the side of his mouth, his cupid’s bow, under his eye. “what do you want?” he asks. “tell hyung what you want.”

jeongguk sucks in a breath, and yoongi takes a moment to admire him—pink hair already sticking to his forehead, splayed against the pillow, and body flushed and hot with exertion. his cock is hard and heavy in yoongi’s grasp as he lazily strokes it, attaching his lips to jeongguk’s neck as he waits for an answer. he realizes, just like that, that he would give jeongguk anything he asked for.

when jeongguk finally sighs out a, “wanna be inside you,” yoongi doesn’t hesitate before agreeing, kissing him soft and sweet. he’s never minded much, only wants jeongguk to feel good, only wants jeongguk to have what he wants; it’s dangerous territory to enter so soon after meeting, being willing to give up everything to see jeongguk smile just one more time. but he would. he will.

they switch positions, jeongguk watching with a vaguely overwhelmed expression as yoongi fingers himself open using the lube that jeongguk brought along (“were you expecting to get some action on this trip, guk-ah?” “you’re teasing me but otherwise you would have had to awkwardly go buy this shit in an italian convenience store, hyung.”) before yoongi tugs him in for a kiss, gasping into his mouth when he adds a second and then a third finger. it’s been a while for yoongi—not just bottoming, but having sex at all, if he’s being honest. it makes the thrumming inside of him stronger, having to pull his fingers away when he fears he’ll come from that before jeongguk can even get inside of him.

but at long last, here they are—jeongguk hovering over him, kneeling between yoongi’s spread legs. here they are—jeongguk rubbing the head of his cock over yoongi’s rim, making him groan at the feeling. and here they are—jeongguk finally lining up properly and then leaning over to kiss yoongi hard as he slowly begins pushing in.

it draws a low moan out of yoongi, swallowing jeongguk’s own moan at the same time as he keeps going, so slowly that it’s almost torturous. it’s too hot, suddenly—wishes they’d thrown open the windows, the doors. and yet he can’t focus on anything but the slide of jeongguk’s cock inside of him, pulling out slowly again and then thrusting in a bit more each time, until he finally bottoms out, their hips pressed together.

they breathe into each other’s mouths more than kiss, open-mouthed as jeongguk leans over him, and yoongi searches for his hands. he slides his own hands down jeongguk’s arms until he reaches, lifting them and threading their fingers together before jeongguk gets the hint and presses their hands into the bed beside yoongi’s head, tilting his head so they can kiss again.

“okay?” asks yoongi after a second, even though jeongguk should likely be asking that question; but he thinks only of jeongguk now, what he wants, what he needs. and jeongguk nods, squeezing yoongi’s hands as he replies, “feels good.”

yoongi grins. “i do have an amazing ass.”

jeongguk groans, dropping his head onto yoongi’s shoulder. “it’s literally been five seconds, hyung,” he says. “i’m going to leave—” yoongi wraps one of his legs around jeongguk’s hips to trap him, although all it does is push jeongguk a little deeper inside of him and he lets out a gasp, back arching. it feels good for him, too, can feel every inch of jeongguk inside of him, and he slides his own hands a little higher up the bed to make jeongguk stretch over him, having to lean down more until their chests are almost pressed together.

“stay,” he murmurs, like he has to ask. he leans up to kiss jeongguk’s nose. “like you too much. like you more than coffee and sleep and taking pretty pictures. like you more than anything.”

“min yoongi,” says jeongguk, pulling away enough to look at him, “i’d follow you anywhere.”

yoongi drops his foot back onto the bed, sighing a little as his lips curl into a lazy grin. he rolls his hips experimentally, watching the way jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at the feeling, and then leans up to kiss him one more time, obsessed with it, addicted—“good,” he says. “pretty baby. move?”

and jeongguk does. it’s all slow, careful—jeongguk rolls his hips into yoongi’s before pulling out and then thrusting back in slow and deep, leaving yoongi moaning at the feeling. he feels full and still wants more, wants jeongguk everywhere—in him and over him and around him, wants to drown just like this as jeongguk sets up a slow rhythm, hips moving languidly against his own.

they kiss sweet and slow, exchanging breaths and moans as jeongguk fucks into him. yoongi is overcome with the urge to praise jeongguk, so he does—tells him how good it feels, how good jeongguk is, how much he likes it. feels the response in the way jeongguk squeezes his hands, lets his lips trail lazy and wet kisses down yoongi’s neck until he can hide his face there as he moves his hips, the bed barely creaking along with it.

yoongi closes his eyes as he breathes hard, punctuated with moans every time jeongguk thrusts into him. he can feel jeongguk—everywhere, body covering yoongi’s, fingers threaded together, lips against yoongi’s neck. he gets lost in it, in the pleasure steadily building within him and sending shivers down his spine. he’d have it like this, any way that jeongguk wants it, just to have jeongguk this close, as part of him. their bodies slide together like they were made for it, built just to be together, and it took meeting in europe for it to happen—and what are the chances, he wonders. how could he have ever hoped for this?

jeongguk groans out a, “hyung,” against his neck, rocking into him a little faster as he seems to get impatient with the slow rhythm. yoongi untangles one of his hands from jeongguk’s so he can hold him, carding his fingers through jeongguk’s hair as he murmurs, “yes, baby?”

with a huff, jeongguk leans up slightly before kissing yoongi again, a little more urgently as he picks up the pace, fucking yoongi a little harder. yoongi clutches at the back of his neck as they meet in the middle again and again, licking into jeongguk’s mouth, wanting to taste nothing but him.

“feel good?” yoongi asks when he pulls away, just enough to lean their foreheads together. jeongguk uses his free hand to slide down yoongi’s body, over his thigh, hitching it over his hip.

“yeah, fuck,” he breathes. “like you, hyung. so much.”

yoongi grins, breathless, spreading his legs a little wider. “show me, then.”

jeongguk seems to take it as a challenge of sorts—he pushes yoongi’s chest until he settles back against the bed again and then sits up a little on his knees. he kisses yoongi again, and then kisses down his neck, ghosting his breath over yoongi’s nipple before he straightens up and starts thrusting into yoongi faster. yoongi can only groan as he lets his head fall back, hand fisting in the sheets beneath him as he feels jeongguk’s cock moving swiftly in and out of him, pushing deeper with each thrust as their skin begins to slap together, filling the room with the obscene sounds of it.

he breathes hard, listening to the sounds of jeongguk’s own moans, becoming increasingly higher-pitched as time goes on. he grabs hold of yoongi’s thighs, using them for leverage as he fucks into yoongi faster, harder; his cock brushes against yoongi’s prostate, finally, making him gasp and arch into it as the pleasure sings through him. from there, jeongguk leans over him again, connecting their lips as he seems to try hitting that spot again and again, hips suddenly snapping into yoongi’s.

“shit,” breathes yoongi, slipping one of his hands into jeongguk’s hair to keep him there. “right there, guk-ah, f-fuck.” jeongguk makes a noise against his skin, thrusts becoming erratic as yoongi realizes he’s nearing orgasm. suddenly, it feels like it’ll be over too soon—after so much anticipation and waiting and wanting, but he can’t blame either of them. all that waiting has merely made it easy for them to snap, overwhelmed from the start. but yoongi knows there’s so much he wants to do with jeongguk, to jeongguk—could lock them in this room for days just to memorize each part of jeongguk’s body, to learn each of his sounds, to find out what he likes, what drives him wild.

they don’t have that now. but tomorrow, they leave for the last leg of their trip, the longest one—yoongi, along with namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin are renting a little house on the edge of lake como for at least a week, if not longer, and yoongi thinks, suddenly, of swimming with jeongguk, wine tasting, getting them into a room together and never having to leave if they don’t want to.

he practically sees stars at the thought of it, arm curling around jeongguk’s shoulders as jeongguk leans against him fully, rapidly thrusting his hips against yoongi’s and finally snaking his hand between them to touch yoongi’s neglected cock. it makes yoongi gasp again, the arousal mounting within him.

before he can say anything, jeongguk’s breath hitches against his neck and he gasps out, “fuck, hyung, gonna—gonna come.” yoongi groans, dragging him back up for a heated kiss, feeling jeongguk’s thrusts stutter as he chases his release, hand doing little more than just holding yoongi’s cock between them as he thrusts into yoongi once, twice more, and then—buries himself inside yoongi, letting out a whine into yoongi’s mouth as he comes.

yoongi feels jeongguk go rigid on top of him, and then almost immediately go boneless instead, sagging his weight against yoongi as he groans and drops his head back onto yoongi’s shoulder. and yoongi almost laughs, only remembering his own need when jeongguk starts moving his hand again, stroking yoongi’s cock between them.

he moans, dropping his head back against the pillow again as jeongguk catches the drooling pre-come on yoongi’s cock to aid in the slide, hand moving faster and faster. yoongi focuses on the feeling of jeongguk’s cock still buried within him, leaving him full and hot, and all it takes is jeongguk running the palm of his hand over the head of yoongi’s cock a few times for him to let go entirely, coming over jeongguk’s hand and his own stomach with a low moan.

they both lay for a while, coming down and trying to catch their breath. yoongi is suddenly so tired that he doesn’t want to move, can’t even think about it—but then he realizes how heavy jeongguk is on top of him and how sensitive he’s gotten after coming. so he gives another groan, weakly shoving at jeongguk’s shoulder until he concedes, slipping out of yoongi and rolling over onto the bed next to him.

yoongi lulls his head to look at jeongguk only to find he’s already looking back. and then jeongguk lifts his hand—the one streaked with yoongi’s come—and licks his fingers.

“jesus christ,” mutters yoongi.

jeongguk giggles.

after they get cleaned up—to a certain degree, because neither of them has enough energy for it—they merely flop back onto the bed, immediately meeting in the middle as yoongi shuffles over and plants his head on jeongguk’s shoulder, grabbing his hand and beginning to play with his fingers. he feels jeongguk kiss the top of his head, a stupidly fond grin curling onto his lips.

he’s not so sure what to say, suddenly; in the past, yoongi has been so afraid of the after part with hook-ups that he’s always run away almost immediately. in relationships, there was always some sort of routine. but with jeongguk, this is still new—and yet, yoongi wants to stay right here, feels like he belongs right here.

after a long bout of comfortable silence, yoongi lifts jeongguk’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, brushing his lips over jeongguk’s knuckles.

jeongguk sighs above him, one of contentment. “that was nice,” he says.

yoongi can’t help but snort. “nice.”

“it was.”

“you’re cute, jeongguk-ah.” yoongi giggles and hears jeongguk join in, chest shaking and jostling yoongi’s head, which just makes him giggle harder. eventually, he rolls over, lifting himself up on one hand so he can lean over and press a kiss to jeongguk’s lips. it’s lazy and warm, keeping it chaste as he pulls back enough to just brush his lips over jeongguk’s, brushing their noses together. he lifts his eyes, using his other hand to sweep jeongguk’s bangs away from his forehead as he finds himself grinning, unable to stop. never able to stop, not with jeongguk.

jeongguk looks a little fucked out, giving yoongi a crooked grin as yoongi kisses him again, just has to. “it was nice, i agree,” he says with a grin, propping his elbow on the bed next to jeongguk’s head and leaning his head into his hand as he watches jeongguk’s face, gently tracing over his features with his fingers. “i don’t feel bad in the slightest about ditching everyone for this.”

“they’re going to be mad,” giggles jeongguk.

“to be honest, i really don’t care,” says yoongi. “i feel like they know that, too. with all of the teasing and whatever. i bet they have a betting pool to see how long it would take for us to fuck.”

jeongguk groans, rolling over enough to push his face into yoongi’s arm. “let’s run away,” he says. “so we never have to see them again. we can go back to paris and live there and kiss on the eiffel tower all of the time.”

“i don’t know, i kind of like venice better,” admits yoongi. “i like the water.”

with a hum, jeongguk murmurs, “there’s water in busan.” yoongi remembers, vaguely, jeongguk talking about his home, his childhood—about growing up in busan, the mountains and the beaches. and the idea of going back to korea, about being together there—it has both fear and anticipation coursing through him. and, horrifyingly, excitement.

rather than respond to that, not wanting to open a can of worms that neither of them is prepared to deal with, he leans down and presses a wet kiss to jeongguk’s cheek. “well, they shouldn’t be back for a few more hours, at least,” he smirks, hand trailing down jeongguk’s bare chest to tweak his nipple. “might as well make the most of it, hm?”

jeongguk rolls away to look at him, eyebrows rising. “sure you can keep up with me, old man?”

“and i’m topping this time.”

“hyung.”

“what?” laughs yoongi, rolling jeongguk onto his back and sliding over to straddle him, attaching his lips to jeongguk’s neck. “are you afraid of my massive schlong?”

jeongguk giggles, searching for yoongi’s hands and threading their fingers together as yoongi returns to his lips, giggling along. and he kisses jeongguk, and jeongguk kisses him back, and yoongi thinks he wouldn’t mind it—staying here forever, letting the world pass by around them without a care.

》》》

after, they don bath robes from the closet and sit out on the balcony overlooking the calm blue water, watching boats sail by and the cloudless sky. yoongi orders room service: two glasses of wine and bowls of pasta, since it’s past noon and neither of them have eaten.

yoongi isn’t entirely sure he should feel so… at peace, as he sips at his wine, watching jeongguk scarf down his entire plate of pasta in what must be record timing. he taps his foot against jeongguk’s ankle in a haphazard rhythm, no purpose other than to touch, to be close. they’ll have to shower again, probably. for now, he just likes this. all of venice is spread out before them, tourists like ants across the sea, and he feels like the world is just a little brighter now.

when jeongguk has finished his pasta, groaning as he sets the empty plate and cutlery down on the ground beside his chair, yoongi raises his eyebrows. “good?”

“fucking italy, hyung,” says jeongguk. “i love italy. i agree with you; we should stay here instead of running back to paris.”

“we could have both,” says yoongi. “summer home here, winter home in paris. or the other way around. lug the dog back and forth, poor thing.”

“we’ll feed the dog food that’s worth more than our own, so i don’t think you need to call it poor thing.”

“i feel bad calling the dog an it, by the way,” says yoongi, taking another sip of his wine as he thinks. “surely we can choose what dog we have.”

jeongguk picks up his own wine glass, swirling the red drink inside before he mimics yoongi and takes a sip, watching him from across the balcony. jeongguk looks soft and lazy, the bathrobe too big on him so it swallows his frame as the sun from overhead lights him up. yoongi imagines mornings just like this, wants them forever.

“let’s have a girl dog,” says jeongguk. “name her after an italian city, like verona. or a french one, like marseille. or both. verona marseille. she’ll be spoiled and pampered.”

“like you?” asks yoongi.

“excuse me,” says jeongguk. “you’re the one who practically begged me to join you on this trip despite knowing i have approximately one hundred won to my name. and i’ve told you multiple times you don’t have to buy me things, yet you continue to insist. i’m just trying to be nice in accepting your generous gifts.”

yoongi chuckles, wishing he was close enough to kiss jeongguk’s cheek. he settles on making a mental note to do it later, along with kissing his nose and his eyelids and the moles on his face. he’ll count them, map them out until he has jeongguk’s body memorized.

“i’m just kidding, guk-ah,” says yoongi. “i’m very glad you’re here. and i’m not your sugar daddy.”

“you could be my sugar daddy if you agreed to pay my tuition.”

“what kind of money do you think i make as a news anchor?”

“more than what i make working at the mall during the school year.”

“i get it now,” says yoongi, leaning back in his chair. “you’re just trying to secure the bag, as you young folk would say. let me fuck you a few times, make me get attached to you, and then casually drop all of your student loans on me.”

jeongguk gasps, setting his wine glass down as he says, “how could you possibly know? now my plan has been ruined. i’ll have to seduce seokjin-hyung now, and you know that’ll never go over well.”

“hey, i didn’t say i wouldn’t pay your tuition.”

jeongguk—kind of pauses, something in his expression hesitating between the dramatic acting he was just doing and something much more genuine. “wait, actually?” he asks, lowering his voice as though there is anyone else here to listen.

yoongi smirks, sipping his wine. “give me that blowjob you were talking about yesterday and i just might,” he says, shrieking with laughter when jeongguk practically knocks over both of their wine glasses and chairs when he jumps up and tries to drag yoongi back into the room, clearly not wanting to take a chance on that offer expiring any time soon.

by the time yoongi even thinks to check his phone, he realizes it’s been blown up by notifications from the others—not only from the group chat they made on the way from amsterdam to london, but individual messages as well. some of them are respectable, at least—namjoon sending him pictures of things the others have seen or done, or a whole chunk of the groupchat dedicated to jimin and hoseok discussing water traffic in venice. and then—well. there are the other messages.

the first time he reads anything vaguely obscene about he and jeongguk, sent from taehyung, yoongi just tosses his phone back into his bag and thoroughly ignores it. it’s a saving grace, then, that jeongguk has braved the onslaught of messages to be able to tell yoongi when the others have notified them that they’re heading back to the hotel in the late afternoon—complete with an if you’re naked when we get there, we’ll feed you to the sharks! from seokjin and an i don’t think there are sharks in venice, hyung from namjoon, which prompts a whole argument in the chat.

they finally pull themselves away from each other, choosing to shower in their respective rooms because yoongi knows he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself if he sees the entire expanse of jeongguk’s naked skin again, and he attempts to clean up as best as he can, even making namjoon’s bed, which ends up looking suspicious, so he messes it up again, but then he sees a stain he and jeongguk ended up leaving behind, and decides to just take the sheets off entirely, leaving them in a pile in the closet and hoping that namjoon somehow doesn’t notice.

at the last second, he decides it’s best to just avoid his room entirely and texts everyone to head to the one shared by jeongguk, jimin, and hoseok. by the time everyone shows up, jeongguk and yoongi are kind of awkwardly sitting on opposite ends of the couch on their phones, the television playing quietly in the background, and yoongi immediately feels himself go red as he hears voices outside of the door, and then a key card sliding into the door.

he throws a somewhat desperate glance at jeongguk, who just winks at him. although spending the morning and part of the afternoon with jeongguk was like something out of a dream, reality is now crashing back down around them; he could ignore everyone else, could ignore the oncoming storm, but there’s no way to escape it now.

as the door opens to reveal the sunburned and excitable five other members of their group, yoongi tries to remember how people normally act when they’re not guilty of fucking on their best friend’s bed. he looks up at them, grinning as they pile into the room and take off their shoes and hats and sunglasses, still discussing the shark question.

“hey,” says yoongi, clearing his throat. “how was the day?”

jimin wanders over and collapses on the sofa next to him, leaning against him and immediately getting yoongi sweaty, considering how warm jimin is. “it’s so hot out there, hyung,” he complains. “i’m dying of heatstroke.”

“drink some water,” says yoongi, giving him a gentle shove toward the bathroom in hopes that jimin won’t pass out along the way. everyone else offers their opinion of the day, telling a few stories of what they did and funny things that happened, because it’s impossible to go one day without something going wrong between the seven of them. in the middle of seokjin ranting about having to take forty pictures of namjoon on a bridge, yoongi finds his eyes moving to jeongguk, across the room. no one has mentioned anything about them suspiciously skipping out together, thinking they might actually have gotten away with it.

and then, in the middle of seokjin’s rant, taehyung just says, “you two skipped out on venice so you could fuck, didn’t you?”

yoongi freezes, eyes going wide as everyone falls into silence and turns to stare at him and jeongguk. again, yoongi’s eyes skirt to jeongguk’s, trying to decide if they want to deny it when it’s fairly obvious that something happened. when jeongguk doesn’t immediately say anything, though, yoongi just clears his throat, scratching behind his ear as he says, “i, uh. don’t know where you got that idea.”

“jeongguk’s wearing his after sex clothes,” says taehyung immediately, gesturing at jeongguk, who seems to choke on his own spit. “i’ve known him for years, so i’ve seen it with my own eyes enough times, plus he’s always talking about how you have to have certain clothes you wear after having sex for whatever reason. sweatpants, hoodie, fuzzy socks. also he put his bangs up and he only does that when he’s planning on blowing someone.”

no one says anything. yoongi just stares at jeongguk and finds that taehyung is right—he’s wearing the sweatpants he was wearing when he showed up at yoongi’s room earlier, and has switched the shirt out for a massive hoodie. he looks extraordinarily comfy, which is probably what he goes for with after sex clothes, especially when they fucked in the morning and both admitted they kind of just wanted to relax for the rest of the day.

jeongguk changed into all that after he left yoongi, though. having his bangs off of his forehead means he was… planning on coming back. or maybe trying to sneak in an extra blowjob before the others got home, something that has yoongi’s cheeks colouring.

it’s the worst thing that could happen.

“oh my god, look at them!” crows hoseok, immediately bursting into laughter. “they totally did fuck! holy shit, that’s hilarious.”

“you have no shame, do you?” laughs taehyung. “in broad daylight. in venice. while everyone else was out doing vacation things, since this is a vacation.”

“oh my god,” groans yoongi, putting his face in his hands as his cheeks flare again. he thought might be able to prepare for this, but he realizes now there’s no possible way he could—not with his friends, not with the type of people they are.

as the others join in on teasing them, voicing their disbelief over it all (although he hears a few congratulations, which is probably worse than anyone being angry) jeongguk finally snaps, “and what about it? it was great, by the way. why would i want to walk around a sweaty, crowded city when i could get fucked within an inch of my life by that?”

yoongi keeps his face in his hands, refusing to look up, refusing to do anything as everyone bursts into laughter and teasing, objections, calling them gross. somehow, jeongguk just made it worse. they really will just have to run away to paris, or maybe throw themselves into the water and hope they drown instead. no one is ever going to let him live this down—even if it was worth it.

later, when they go for dinner together, jeongguk holds his hand under the table, leans in when he’s gotten a little tipsy, kisses the shell of yoongi’s ear. apologizes for embarrassing yoongi, asks if he can make up for it somehow. even though he’s aware of several pairs of eyes on them, somehow fascinated with the two of them being a thing, properly, he squeezes jeongguk’s knee. reminds him that they have a whole week in lake como to make up for it.

(even later—

“why aren’t there any sheets on my bed?”

yoongi freezes in the bathroom, toothbrush stuck in his mouth as he stares at himself in the mirror. slowly, he removes the toothbrush and spits, rapidly trying to come up with a lie, like he spilled food on it or the housekeeping must have come by and taken it while they were out for dinner, but then he hears a loud noise of disgust.

when yoongi looks out of the door, namjoon is glaring murder at him from across the room. “you used my bed, didn’t you,” he deadpans, not even a fucking question. taehyung guffaws.

“uh,” begins yoongi.

“my bed, hyung!” says namjoon, looking on the verge of tears. “my goddamn bed!”

seokjin starts laughing, doesn’t really stop. yoongi watches on in both horror and amusement as namjoon tries to skirt around the bed without touching it, complaining about how utterly disgusting yoongi and jeongguk are, the worst roommates and travel partners, with no fucking consideration for their fellow man, and picks up the belongings yoongi has put on the pull-out bed from the couch before tossing them on the bed and sitting down on the pull-out instead.

“that’s yours now, you absolute pig,” says namjoon. “you made your come-stained bed and now you can lie in it. literally. jesus christ.”

seokjin is still laughing, along with taehyung, both of them practically crying and on the ground as yoongi awkwardly stands in the doorway to the bathroom, toothbrush still clutched in his hand.

“sorry?” he offers quietly.

namjoon throws a pillow at him.)

Chapter Text

when yoongi had suggested they rent a house for their last stay in italy, he’d imagined something just like this—the villa is large and sprawling, overlooking the blue lake and the mountains surrounding it. it features a swimming pool, an expansive lawn, and a variety of lounging areas both inside and out—four bedrooms, an impressive kitchen, and a path directly to the edge of the lake. and yet, somehow, it’s even better than the pictures could do justice, a feeling of awe stirring in yoongi’s chest as the seven of them stand before their new home for the next week.

it was seokjin who suggested lake como—a resort area nestled against the alps, known for its renaissance scenery, gorgeous water and scenery, and mountain terrain. it’s the perfect getaway spot for a vacation in northern italy, although seokjin claims he only wanted to visit because he heard george clooney has a vacation home there and wants to rub elbows.

either way, yoongi isn’t upset about it. as the seven of them take to exploring the massive villa, he can’t help thinking this is just what he and jeongguk have been talking about for days—finding a place to stay forever, with nothing but clear skies and blue water, with no cares for their normal lives. he keeps glancing out of the window at the lake, imagining sitting out on the patio or near the pool, sipping wine and finally reading the books he’s brought along, even as the others excitedly chatter about the table tennis and pool tables located in one of the villa’s lounges.

it’s seemed like such a whirlwind week—and has it only been a week since the seven of them fell together? they’ve been across part of europe, seen countless tourist attractions, drunk far too much alcohol, and yoongi has, dare he say it, practically fallen in love. it seems as though they’ve been here forever, and yet their vacation is only half over—and this is the half yoongi has really been looking forward to. finally, they’ll have time to do nothing but relax and rest, able to go into one of the nearby towns or head up into the mountains if they wish, but also having the opportunity to do absolutely nothing.

it’s yoongi’s dream, truly.

he can imagine it all now, sleeping in every day and waking to a fresh cup of coffee, wandering out to enjoy the morning view of the lake and the emerald city around it, heading into town for groceries or to check out the lake. wine, movies, gossip. a home away from home after over a week of constantly being on the go, trying to cram in as much sightseeing as possible in the little time they had in every other city.

but they’ve booked the villa for at least a week. there’s only so much to see here, and without a car, they don’t have a way to escape.

and—far from being embarrassed about it now, yoongi is fond of the opportunity he has here with jeongguk. they can finally slow down, take time to actually enjoy each other’s company without having to pretend to be sick to do so. he’ll endure the teasing for it, just to have the chance to take advantage of this serendipitous thing that is his relationship with jeon jeongguk.

after they finish exploring the house, each new room offering them an opportunity to ooh and ahh about what they’re paying a ridiculous amount of money for, the seven of them convene in the living room to discuss logistics. yoongi gets distracted by the massive wall of windows offering a view of the lake and the mountains surrounding it, and is pulled back only by jeongguk physically taking his hand and tugging him into the middle of the room, where everyone else has taken their seats.

“we have four bedrooms,” namjoon is saying, “two of them have one king bed each, one has three single beds, and one has two double beds. so technically we don’t have to do this logically, but i suggest we do two to a room and then one lucky person can have a room to themselves. or we can always switch things up if you get sick of your roommate.”

“everyone is going to want the single room, though,” says seokjin. “there will be blood, i can just see it. we’ll have to play rock, paper, scissors or something.”

for a second, all of them kind of look at each other, as though they don’t quite get what seokjin is saying. it’s taehyung who says, “i mean… i really don’t care about having the single room. i like all of you.”

“yeah,” agrees hoseok. “we’ve been living in much closer quarters this entire time and it’s been great. if someone really wants the single room, i think they’re free to take it.”

more silence. then—“then fuck you all, i want my own room,” says seokjin, making the others snort. yoongi knows that seokjin can be particular about his room, and although it’s clear he does love everyone else, having to live with them for a week is a different story from just having to spend all day together and being friends.

with three other rooms up for grabs and six people left, yoongi finds himself chewing on his thumbnail. he glances over at jeongguk, and then at namjoon, and then back again. he and jeongguk haven’t roomed together yet, despite the two of them growing closer than anyone on the trip—but considering what happened in venice, yoongi already has a feeling everyone is thinking what he’s thinking, even if he’s a little too shy to say it.

“well,” says jeongguk, finally, clearing his throat awkwardly. “i’d like to room with yoongi-hyung, if that’s okay with everyone.”

“oh, thank fuck,” sighs jimin, flopping back against the sofa he’s sitting on. “i don’t need to see used condoms everywhere in my room and you can keep your nasty deeds to yourself.”

“it’s not going to be like that,” protests jeongguk, although his face is a little red—and if yoongi were braver, he might tease him in front of their friends, ask why not. as it is, everyone else is chiming in their agreement that yoongi and jeongguk should room together, for everyone’s sanity and for their own pleasure. even with the teasing and insinuations, yoongi can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat, his hand automatically finding jeongguk’s to squeeze. he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for an entire week for this opportunity, and the way jeongguk grins at him, he doubts he’s the only one.

once the rest of the rooms are decided—seokjin in a king room, yoongi and jeongguk in the other king room, taehyung and hoseok in the double beds room, and jimin and namjoon in the single beds room—they quickly unpack and begin to settle. something thrums within yoongi as he leads the way to the room he and jeongguk will be staying in, in a far corner of the house with a view out onto the lake.

somehow, this makes him nervous—being in a room with jeongguk, sharing a bed. they fucked multiple times yesterday, but this is something more, something intimate in a way that even having sex isn’t. it takes until they’ve arrived in the room and dropped their suitcases and backpacks in a corner, for yoongi to put his finger on it: it’s domestic.

all of this—sleeping in the same room, in the same bed, living in a house together. cooking their own meals, sharing bathrooms, spending long evenings out by the lake or the pool, talking and drinking wine. it’s a glimpse into the life they’ve been talking about wanting since they were in paris, and yoongi only realizes now that maybe some part of him could be so bold to talk about that because he knew it wasn’t real and never would be.

but suddenly—it is. suddenly, he’s turning around and jeongguk is taking the clothes out of his suitcase and transferring them to the dresser near the door, moving in. he turns around and jeongguk is making a home out of this, spreading himself throughout the room and then looking over yoongi with a puzzled expression.

“aren’t you going to unpack?” asks jeongguk, like—he doesn’t feel it, doesn’t realize the gravity of the situation. or maybe it’s just yoongi getting stuck in his own head, turning all of this into feelings when it doesn’t have to be. but for now, they’re just unpacking—and later, when it’s time to sleep, they’ll get into the same bed, side by side. yoongi’s heart skips and shudders and stalls, just for a moment.

“uh,” says yoongi, shaking himself out of it. “yeah, ‘course.”

he wants to ask—wants to let jeongguk know what this means to him, to realize that he’ll have a week to learn all of jeongguk’s domestic little habits, like which side of the bed he sleeps on and if he snores and if he needs to hold something at night, and if he puts his socks on before his pants and what he looks like with bedhead and what his nighttime routine is. and beyond that, even, beyond this little room—what he knows about cooking and how he likes to unwind after a long day and if he’s any good at swimming, what his muscles look like with water sliding over and off of them and how easily he can convince yoongi to come with him and what kind of grocery shopping habits he has.

suddenly, this doesn’t feel like just a summer fling anymore. it doesn’t feel like the two of them having some fun in europe with what little time they have. suddenly, it feels real—all of these real things that yoongi would get to know only if they were going home, only if jeongguk was letting yoongi into his life beyond just letting him into his pants.

it overwhelms him, leaves him feeling helpless and untethered when he realizes he likes that, wants it. wants to know all of jeongguk’s habits and how he lives, wants to be a part of that. yoongi realizes he likes jeongguk outside of this, too, and will continue to, and wants to go home with him.

“hyung! jeongguk!” yoongi is pulled from his thoughts by such familiar words and the door opening to reveal taehyung peeking in with a grin. “we’re gonna head into town to explore if you wanna come with. we figure we can find somewhere to eat down there and then we have that wine tasting.”

“sweet,” grins jeongguk, turning to yoongi. “we’re gonna go, right, hyung?”

“of course,” says yoongi almost automatically, offering a grin on auto-pilot. his mind is still racing, but this is good—a distraction, an opportunity to remember that this is still a vacation even if they’re living in a house, even if this is what the rest of their lives could be. (he’s only known jeongguk for a week. his heart is reckless.)

when jeongguk follows taehyung out of the room, bringing his wallet and sunglasses with him, yoongi takes a moment to survey the damage they’ve already made of the room. it looks so distinctly jeongguk that he wants to cry, knowing this is what he wants—a chance to be with jeongguk, to room with him, to have time away without needing to make excuses. but with it comes the horrible realization that yoongi doesn’t just want it now, for the next week, for the rest of their short vacation together, but—for as long as he can have it, for as long as he can hold on with all of his fingers, clinging and fighting for it.

yoongi takes a deep breath, letting out the panic on the exhale. and then he follows jeongguk into the wild.

》》》

they spend the better part of the afternoon exploring the nearest town, with its brilliant architecture and stunning lake-side beaches. for the first time since they got to europe, it finally doesn’t feel rushed, rather like they could while away the hours here, becoming part of the local population. yoongi loved the other cities and countries, but there’s something about this that makes him feel relaxed and safe and good.

yoongi meanders along behind the others, hands in his pockets as he admires the streets and the view of the lake and mountains beyond. he can hear them chatting about taking a dip in the lake, finding a place that rents bikes for the week, what kind of after-meal games they want to play to fill the time. it’s hard to believe they’ve only been together for a week when it feels like they’ve known each other for years already, like this one trip has stretched out for their entire lives.

yoongi doesn’t want to go home.

between one street and the next, yoongi finds he’s not alone, arm brushing against seokjin’s as the elder slows down to walk with him. he expects seokjin might have something teasing to say, asking if yoongi and jeongguk are going to break in the bed tonight, but instead, he just asks, “do you believe in fate, yoongi-yah?”

yoongi raises his eyebrows but doesn’t question the topic of conversation. rather, he shrugs a little, eyes trailing to familiar cherry pink hair and black clothing. “i don’t know,” he admits. “i like to think we make our own opportunities. you can’t rely on the universe to give you what you want. you have to go out to get it.”

seokjin hums. “i like that.”

“why do you ask?”

when yoongi looks over, seokjin shrugs. “i’ve just been thinking about all of this,” he says. “thinking about what happens when we leave.” they still have a week left, but yoongi has found his mind wandering to those things too—to wanting to take advantage of the time they do have, even though he’s more inclined to be pessimistic about time limits. he thinks of conversations he and seokjin used to have when they were roommates in college, bringing bottles of soju to the roof of their dorm and looking out at the sky, at the city, talking about the future. of fears and desires. despite seokjin being so much louder and chaotic than yoongi, there’s a reason yoongi would call him a best friend.

“i keep telling myself that i’m just going back to my life,” says yoongi. “but nothing is going to be the same after this, is it?” ahead of them, jeongguk is laughing loudly at a story jimin is telling, arms draped over namjoon’s shoulders as they walk together. maybe for seokjin, things will go back to normal, roughly; he’ll have three more friends and surely the seven of them will want to hang out when they can, go for dinner or little adventures like this. but for yoongi—

“no,” says seokjin, and he reaches out, ruffles yoongi’s hair affectionately. “i don’t think so.”

yoongi exhales slowly, suddenly feeling the sting of tears at the backs of his eyes. the truth is that yoongi doesn’t really know what he’s doing, where any of this is going—but he pushes it down just once more, leaving it as a problem that he can solve a week from now, when they’re sunburned and water-logged, when he has to.

for now—it’s just wide open skies and italian romance, summer just another name for new beginnings.

after they buy groceries—spending an obscene amount of money, but they are seven grown men with varying tastes and appetites—and have a small dinner at a local restaurant, they head out for a wine tasting at a nearby winery. as usual, it’s namjoon, taehyung, and yoongi who are actually interested in the informational part of it as the woman explains the process of growing the grapes, harvesting them, and turning them into wine, as well as what different grapes produce in terms of taste, dryness, and colour. it’s jimin, hoseok, seokjin, and jeongguk who are just there to get wine drunk for a minimal price.

“would you behave?” namjoon hisses halfway through, when seokjin and hoseok won’t stop giggling about the little basket of cheese that has been provided to them to help cleanse their pallets between wine tastings. they’re all sitting at a long table on little stone benches, underground where all of the wine is stored, and namjoon is conveniently placed in the middle of all of them like he can actually control anyone.

beside him, yoongi says, “i don’t think there’s a use in trying, joon-ah. we’ve had enough alcohol on this trip to know we can’t make them behave.”

“i don’t know why i ever decided to elect myself as the unofficial leader of this group,” sighs namjoon.

overhearing him, jeongguk leans over and puts his head on namjoon’s shoulder. “because you love us, hyung,” he grins, and even in the low lighting of the bunker, yoongi can see how rosy his cheeks are. he’s had more than his fair share of wine, even though it’s just meant to be a tasting; taehyung complained about not liking some of the wine and jeongguk immediately offered to have it for him, fighting with jimin over it a few times.

namjoon, shifting a little more toward yoongi, pats jeongguk’s head. “yes,” he says. “that must be it.”

“you know this is supposed to be a tasting, guk?” yoongi asks, leaning over namjoon to tug a little on jeongguk’s hair.

when jeongguk sits up, he frowns at yoongi, batting his hand away. “i’m an all or nothing kinda person, hyung.”

“don’t forget who you’re rooming with tonight,” counters yoongi. “if you’re throwing up and can’t even get out of your pants when we get home, i’ll slide in with seokjin-hyung.”

“you wanna take off my pants for me, yoongi-hyung?” asks jeongguk, wiggling his eyebrows as he raises his empty wine glass in a toast.

“not if you’re stuck in the bathroom vomiting your insides into the toilet all night.”

“we could do it in the bathroom, i don’t mind.”

between them, namjoon mutters, “i don’t feel comfortable witnessing this conversation.”

his saving grace comes in the form of the woman heading the wine tasting as she returns with the bottles for the next wine, excitedly encouraging them to eat more of the cheese and make sure they’re ready for a new taste. jeongguk gets distracted by the new wine and taehyung has to physically stop him from downing the wine before they’re allowed to, apparently having forgotten what they’re here for, and yoongi ends up with the worst luck—or maybe the best, depending how he’s looking at it; when the woman comes to pour his wine, he ends up with the last of the bottle, which means he has to immediately down the whole thing and refill his glass from a new bottle, to keep from having bad luck or something.

either way, his friends all bang on the table and cheer for him to scull the wine as he groans but does so anyway—and then maybe doesn’t mind, because he might just need more wine to get through this first night.

after the wine tasting, all of them reasonably tipsy, they wander back to their villa and collapse in the living room, laughing and talking as they wind down. the sun has long since gone down, leaving them in an orange glow from the lamps in the room, and yoongi feels pleasantly buzzed from the wine and a successful first day by lake como. he can’t wait for what comes next: a whole week of relaxation, wandering, and sitting out by the pool where no one can drag him out to do something he doesn’t want to. as much as he’s enjoyed the first leg of the journey, he’s done enough walking in the past week for the rest of the year and will now take every opportunity to remain horizontal.

speaking of which—within an hour or two of talking and laughing, yoongi feels the wine wear off, leaving him feeling sleepy instead. being able to relax for the first time in a week has left him feeling heavy and wanting nothing more than to take advantage of the massive bed in his room. so when someone suggests putting on a movie, yoongi huffs out a, “m’actually gonna head to bed, i think.”

“hyung’s so old,” complains jimin from across the room, giggling when yoongi sticks his tongue out in response.

“i’m tired, too, actually,” agrees hoseok. “i want to get up early tomorrow and explore the lake with the sunrise if anyone wants to join.” as a few others offer to explore with him, yoongi has to snort; he’ll be sleeping in as much as possible, although no doubt someone will drag him out for an italian sunrise at some point in the next week.

the group slowly breaks up; a few decide to stay behind and watch a movie like originally suggested while the rest wander toward their respective rooms, offering goodnights and well-wishes. when yoongi rises from the armchair he was rapidly becoming one with, his eyes skirt to jeongguk’s, finally remembering that it’s not just his bed. they’ve been placed in a room with a king bed and nothing more, which makes sense, but—he and jeongguk had never roomed together. sleeping in the same bed is something completely different from having sex, a kind of intimacy that goes beyond anything they’ve done.

still—when yoongi tilts his head toward the hallway, jeongguk nods, a shy grin playing on his lips as he gets up from his chair and follows yoongi toward their room. yoongi can’t guess how tipsy jeongguk is now, since he himself is almost entirely sober now. either way—he feels nerves curling with him, so familiar when it comes to new experiences with jeongguk. somehow, he didn’t even feel this nervous about sleeping with jeongguk for the first time, or kissing him, or admitting his feelings. and it shouldn’t make him nervous—sleeping in the same bed when they’ve done so much more. but yoongi can’t help it.

they’re silent as they enter the room and set about getting ready for bed. yoongi drags his sleeping clothes and toothbrush to the nearest bathroom, feeling oddly vulnerable about changing in front of jeongguk despite the fact that their dicks have literally been inside each other. but he’s not going to question his own reservations, rather returning to the room to find jeongguk has changed into his own sleeping clothes and is in the process of organizing his belongings on the dresser before he heads into the bathroom after yoongi.

there’s a palpable tension in the air as yoongi slips under the covers, taking the opportunity to plug in his phone and check his social media as he waits. the truth is, they could do more than just sleep—but it doesn’t feel like that kind of night, not after so much traveling today, not when he’s bone tired.

jeongguk must feel it, too, when he returns to the room. yoongi glances up at him from his phone but doesn’t say anything, and he watches jeongguk put away his nighttime routine supplies before awkwardly hovering near the edge of the bed, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to get in—even though it’s his bed, too.

yoongi still doesn’t say anything. eventually, jeongguk does pull back the covers and climbs into the bed, but he stays on his side, awkwardly laying so that there’s a good foot of space between them. the bed allows it, at least, but yoongi puts his phone down and switches off his lamp, immediately bathing them both in darkness. and it’s—weird, to hear jeongguk breathing beside him, to feel the rustle of sheets as jeongguk moves, but to feel like they’re back at square one like in the beginning, when they were dancing around each other and unsure what to do about it.

suddenly, yoongi kind of wishes he were still tipsy.

then—he realizes he’s forced himself to be brave this whole time. and even if jeongguk has always been the more confident of the two of them, yoongi is still older, still knows more—has more experience. can lead.

so he turns his head to look at jeongguk through the darkness, only able to make out the outline of his face. “well, come on,” he says.

“what?” asks jeongguk, startling.

“i’ve been waiting to share a room with you since day one and now we’re acting like we’ve never even spoken when in fact, i saw you naked just this morning,” says yoongi. jeongguk lets out a startled giggle, but it’s good enough; jeongguk shuffles over and yoongi slides in until they meet in the middle of the bed, bodies brushing together.

“i want to be the little spoon,” says jeongguk immediately, hushed, turning onto his side with his back to yoongi. and yoongi doesn’t bother to bite back his fond fond fond grin as he complies, pressing his chest to jeongguk’s back and tangling their legs together as he folds an arm over jeongguk’s stomach to hold him tight. it’s the first time they’re really doing this, just—cuddling. maybe they kind of got it out of order, but it doesn’t matter, in the end; yoongi immediately feels himself relax, sighing a little as his body sags against jeongguk’s.

this is how they’re meant to be, he thinks. this is what he’s been waiting for.

gingerly, jeongguk threads their fingers together over his stomach, snuggling back against yoongi’s chest. he sighs, too, sounds just as content as yoongi feels. so yoongi grins, lifting his head to plant a kiss to jeongguk’s cheek before he says, “i’m glad we finally get to do this.”

“that’s really cheesy, hyung,” giggles jeongguk, knocking their feet together.

“don’t act like you haven’t been waiting, too,” says yoongi. “i do love everyone else, but i like you more.”

“i’ve been wanting to cuddle since like, london,” admits jeongguk. “so i hope you know we’re never going to leave this room. we’ll have to get our friends to bring us food in bed because i’m not letting you out of my grip.”

“that could either be really dirty or really sweet.”

“maybe it’s both.”

yoongi giggles, kissing jeongguk’s cheek again. and jeongguk is right—this is nice, this is good. yoongi doesn’t want to leave either, even after just a few minutes. spending time with jeongguk is nice, and holding his hand is great, and fucking him is fun, but they’ve already progressed beyond that. this isn’t just about finding each other attractive and wanting to do something about it. yoongi really likes jeongguk—likes his laugh and his kindness and all of his habits, likes how jeongguk feels in his arms, like jeongguk is just meant to be there.

he hears seokjin’s voice again—do you believe in fate, yoongi-yah?

for the first time in his life, he can’t find any answer other than yes.

“is it bad that i kind of just want to stay here tomorrow?” jeongguk asks. “i know there’s lots to do around here, but we’ve been on the go so much and i kind of just want to stay home. maybe go swimming, cook a good meal… does that make me boring?”

“that’s literally what i was planning on doing,” says yoongi.

“god, that’s gross,” says jeongguk. “we’re literally meant for each other. everyone is going to get sick of us being domestic here, cooking together and sitting out on the porch like we’ve been married for ten years.”

“then maybe they should have gotten a different house for themselves. as far as i’m concerned, this is like a trial run for when we run away to paris or venice.”

“or we could just stay here,” says jeongguk, turning a little in yoongi’s grip so he can look up at yoongi, pouting. yoongi’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to actually see him now, his sleepy face. yoongi dips down to give him a kiss, because he can’t help it.

“you’ll have to choose at some point, you know,” says yoongi. “i don’t think we can afford three houses.”

“pardon? i thought you were rich with the way you’ve been offering to pay for everything i do here.”

yoongi growls, leaning down to nip the tip of jeongguk’s nose. “and how will you contribute to this household?”

“i thought you knew i was going to be your trophy wife,” says jeongguk. “i’ll look pretty and you can spend all of your money on me and i’ll never do anything but drink wine and walk the dog. sounds like a perfect life.”

“i didn’t agree to this.”

“oh god, we’re already having our first fight,” sighs jeongguk. “i’m sleeping on the couch—” he tries to roll away only for yoongi to trap him in a death grip, dragging him back and immediately attacking him with kisses to his neck, jaw, and cheeks as jeongguk giggles, trying to bat him away.

by the time they settle down again, yoongi feels breathless, head swimming with want. but still—“that sounds like a good idea,” he says. “staying in tomorrow, i mean. i’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“so romantic, hyung,” sighs jeongguk. “i’m going to make you kiss me in every room of the house. starting with this one.” with that, he turns his face to yoongi and purses his lips, clearing waiting for a kiss. but yoongi waits, just at first—instead he brushes his fingers over jeongguk’s face, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. admires it, commits it all to memory. thinks that this has the be the best part of all of this—having jeongguk this close, being unafraid to want him this much. he has a week of this, he realizes. he wants to make it forever.

when jeongguk realizes he isn’t getting what he wants, he whines out a, “hyung.”

yoongi grins. “baby.”

“don’t call me baby if you’re not going to kiss me when i nicely ask for it.”

“i didn’t hear a please.”

jeongguk opens his eyes, glaring. and yoongi giggles, finally conceding and bringing their lips together in a soft kiss. that’s one, he thinks—one of thousands for the rest of the week, knowing he can’t let such an opportunity slip through his fingers. he finally has jeongguk right here, has everything he could want in the palm of his hand.

so he kisses jeongguk soft and slow, not letting it go anywhere before jeongguk pulls away with a sigh, flopping back against the bed and pulling yoongi a little closer. “sleep now, hyung,” he says. “gonna do terrible things to you in the safety of this room tomorrow.”

“that sounds like a threat,” laughs yoongi, settling in behind jeongguk and pulling him closer, pressing his lips to the back of jeongguk’s neck.

“sleep.”

“i’m just saying—”

“shh.”

yoongi holds it in for a total of five seconds before he has to giggle. but this time, jeongguk giggles with him, and yoongi presses a kiss to the back of his neck, the mole on the side of his neck, behind his hear. murmurs, “goodnight, jeongguk-ah.”

“goodnight, hyung,” replies jeongguk quietly, squeezing yoongi’s hand. and that’s—better than kissing jeongguk, better than fucking him. it’s the gentle domesticity of a life he hasn’t allowed himself to want but has found in someone he can’t keep. and it’s cruel. but for now, he might call it fate and hope it will be kind.

》》》

when yoongi wakes the next morning, it’s to a nose full of hair and something heavy on his arm. in his sleep-addled mind, he grows confused, making a noise of indignation as he lifts his head and blinks his bleary eyes down at the offending object half on top of him only to see—pink hair, a curved nose, moles. yoongi blinks, and then blinks again, trying to remember when jeongguk got here.

and then—he remembers. in the night, jeongguk has turned over and fit himself in yoongi’s chest, face pressed into yoongi’s neck and trapping him there by lying on his arm. for a time, yoongi just stays there, staring down at jeongguk’s sleeping face, keenly aware of everywhere their bodies are touching—their legs tangled together, jeongguk’s arm wrapped tightly around yoongi’s middle.

maybe it’s his tiredness, mind not yet caught up with the world, but yoongi thinks he wouldn’t mind making this a habit: waking up with jeongguk.

they wake up soft and slow for the first time in a week without having a schedule to stick to. yoongi lets himself drift in and out as he waits for jeongguk to wake up, not wanting to disrupt whatever dream-like morning this is. he knows he has a whole week of this ahead of him, but it feels like he can’t let this thing go, not yet. not when it feels like he’s waited an eternity for it, just to have jeongguk right here, where they should be.

eventually jeongguk begins shifting, waking up in bits and pieces. he groans low in his throat as his grip tightens on yoongi, pressing his face further into yoongi’s neck, and yoongi feels his heart flutter into his throat, stay there. sometimes, it’s hard to breathe around jeongguk, when he does things like this—pursing his lips into a sleepy kiss against yoongi’s skin and then shifting the other way, finally squinting open his eyes as he looks up at yoongi.

everything in yoongi wants to panic, wants to run away—he was right yesterday when he recognized the new kind of intimacy of sharing a bed without even taking their clothes off, of admitting that there’s something more here than just sexual attraction. but he swallows it down, instead lifting his hand not trapped by jeongguk’s body to sweep through jeongguk’s bangs.

“good morning, baby,” he murmurs.

and jeongguk grins, sleepy and sated, closing his eyes again as he exhales and rolls back into yoongi’s chest. “morning, hyung,” he eventually mutters, voice thick with sleep.

it can’t be just him—feeling this giddiness, feeling like a teenager with a crush again. he wraps both arms around jeongguk and presses a kiss to the side of his face, holding him there as he asks, “good sleep?”

jeongguk hums. “other than the fact that you snore.”

“i do not.”

“or maybe you were just hogging the blankets?”

“we were literally pressed together all night,” says yoongi. “i can’t hog the blankets if you’re practically on top of me.”

“maybe that’s why i was on top of you,” says jeongguk as he rolls away from yoongi again, turning his face to look at him. “i was cold.”

“in that case, i’ll hog the blankets every night so you have to snuggle with me.”

jeongguk’s grin is lazy, rubbing at his eyes before he lets out a chuckle. and yoongi watches him, not afraid to show just how fond he is of this beautiful boy before him, in his bed, wanting to be here. wanting to stay. jeongguk flops on the other side of the bed, stretching his arms and yawning before he looks back at yoongi, sharing that same little grin. sharing the same thoughts, surely—that they’ve waited for this and it’s worth it, more than worth it. that it would be nice to stay here all day, because they can.

it scares yoongi how full his heart is when he looks at jeongguk, when he lays here in bed with him. but it’s a good kind of fear, the kind that makes him want to reach out and hold jeongguk again, wants to keep him close. he doesn’t think either of them would mind it.

after a minute, jeongguk says, “i would kiss you, but you probably have gross morning breath.”

yoongi scoffs. “you’ll just have to get used to it,” he says, rolling over and trying to kiss jeongguk anyway; the younger yelps, batting him away with little success, and yoongi ends up half on top of jeongguk with his face in his hands, peppering kisses on his lips and nose and cheeks. jeongguk giggles at him until yoongi gets tired, rolling off of him and flopping back against the pillows with a huffed laugh. yeah, he thinks—he could get used to this.

“what are we gonna do today?” jeongguk asks, knocking his foot into yoongi’s calf.

“uh, stay in bed.”

“hyung.”

“whatever you want to do.”

jeongguk hums. “i want to check out the pool,” he says. “maybe go down to the lake and hang out there for a bit. i kinda wanna take it slow today, though. it feels like we’ve been running around for so long so it’ll be nice to not do much.”

yoongi lolls his head to look at jeongguk, grinning at him. “okay, let’s do that,” he agrees. “but first—i need a shower.” it’ll help him wake up, at least, since he knows he shouldn’t spend all day in bed even if that’s what he wants to do. when he finally rolls over to grab his phone and check the time, he sees it’s almost noon anyway, and the others are likely awake and getting lunch ready, so the least he and jeongguk can do is help them.

reluctantly—and partially because jeongguk keeps grabbing him and dragging him back into bed for another kiss—yoongi manages to pull himself out of bed and toward the bathroom attached to their room. it’s a miracle they have their own private bathroom, although it was probably strategic for the others to offer to them, because only a minute after yoongi has jumped into the shower, the curtain is suddenly being flung back to reveal a naked jeongguk.

yoongi lets out a yelp anyway, practically throwing himself against the opposite wall in surprise. “calm down,” says jeongguk as he steps into the shower with him, closing the curtain after him. “it’s just me.”

“what the fuck,” breathes yoongi, heart still racing as he tries to even out his breathing. jeongguk shuffles them around until he’s standing under the spray of hot water, grabbing yoongi’s shampoo. yoongi just stares at him. “what are you doing?”

“saving water?” says jeongguk, like it’s obvious. he squeezes a dollop of shampoo into his hand and sets down the bottle, quickly lathering it into his hair. “the earth is dying, hyung, we have to do our part to take care of it.”

yoongi just stares as jeongguk goes about washing his hair, pausing when he must notice that yoongi hasn’t moved. then jeongguk reaches out and gets the rest of his shampoo in yoongi’s hair, too, moving his fingers through yoongi’s wet locks and then styling it into what yoongi imagines is the worst mohawk in the world.

but jeongguk just giggles at him. “what?” he asks. “don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this.”

“i think this shower is too small for two people,” mutters yoongi, decidedly not looking down. it’s not like he hasn’t seen jeongguk’s dick before, but this is once again that kind of domestic intimacy that he’s not quite ready for. still, jeongguk stands up the spray of the shower to rinse out his hair and then grabs yoongi’s shoulders to spin them around and get yoongi under the water, too, running his hands through yoongi’s hair to get the suds out.

“that’s just because we’re both standing up,” says jeongguk.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

jeongguk winks, seemingly even bolder in the morning—or maybe it’s just because they shared a bed last night, have the bathroom to themselves, and can easily pretend this is just their life. yoongi can’t even hear anyone else in the house because it’s so big and they’re so far away from the main areas of the building, so it’s just the two of them. just the two of them and this stupid shower and jeongguk stepping forward, that same bold grin on his lips. the spray of the shower hits the back of yoongi’s head and mists into jeongguk’s, but he doesn’t seem to care as he giggles, getting close enough that he can brush their noses together, waiting for yoongi to tilt his face and seal their lips together.

he does—kisses jeongguk wet and slow, wanting to touch all of that skin but being unsure of it, at least for now. it’s jeongguk who trails his hands over yoongi’s sides, slick with the water from the shower, and deepens the kiss, licking into yoongi’s mouth. jeongguk was right—they both taste terrible, but yoongi doesn’t care much about it, suddenly has a one-track mind as jeongguk’s hand brushes against his cock, beginning to take interest against his thigh.

by the time jeongguk drops to his knees, yoongi’s head is fuzzy, looking down as the water cascades over his back and front, drops of water hitting jeongguk’s face when he looks up with that same smirk and takes yoongi’s hard cock into his hand.

“jesus, fuck,” hisses yoongi, immediately reaching out and putting a hand on jeongguk’s head to steady himself; he curls his fingers into jeongguk’s wet hair, trying not to close his eyes because he doesn’t want to miss this, this obscene and wonderful sight—jeongguk licking up the side of yoongi’s cock, hot and wet, and then fitting the head into his mouth without any fuss, looking through his eyelashes at yoongi like he’s pleading for something, like he just wants to make yoongi feel good.

yoongi groans, trying to keep it somewhat quiet in case anyone else in the house can hear; even if they all know what yoongi and jeongguk will likely get up to in their shared room, he doesn’t need to share any intimate details. still—jeongguk’s mouth is hot and tight around his cock as he sinks down, pressing his tongue flat against it as he bobs his head slowly. there’s no hurry here, just a lazy morning as he slowly sucks at yoongi’s cock, pursing his lips around the head once in a while and swirling his tongue around it as yoongi moans, hand tightening in jeongguk’s hair.

“shit,” he sighs, closing his eyes when jeongguk gives him a particularly coy look. “right there, guk, fuck. feels good.” jeongguk hums around his cock, clearly liking the praise, and yoongi tries to hold out. he wants this to last forever, suddenly, until the water goes cold on his back and jeongguk complains about his knees. still, his body wants more and he can’t help beginning to rock his hips gently to meet jeongguk’s eager movements.

jeongguk pulls off to breathe, water and spit mixing together on his lips and chin. he strokes yoongi lightly as he looks up with a grin, and yoongi admires it—his swollen lips, the flush on his cheeks. yoongi lets go of his hair in favour of sliding his hand down jeongguk’s face, fingers light and gentle as he strokes at jeongguk’s cheekbone, jaw, and then presses a thumb into his lip. almost immediately, jeongguk’s mouth closes around the tip of his thumb, hand still around yoongi’s cock, and it’s—too much, almost, how much he wants.

“god,” breathes yoongi as he tugs jeongguk’s face closer to his cock, guiding him back until jeongguk wraps his lips around yoongi’s length again. “i love your mouth.” it’s barely more than a whisper, almost a comment to himself, but it’s all the encouragement jeongguk needs as he fits yoongi’s cock in his mouth again, sliding down and down until it hits the back of his throat and he swallows. yoongi hisses out a curse, head falling back at the feeling, at how good jeongguk is at this—making him feel good, driving him insane.

yoongi stops caring about making it last, knowing they have a whole week of this ahead of them, whenever they want, however they want. he slips his fingers back into jeongguk’s hair, tightening as he begins rocking his hips forever again, meeting jeongguk’s movements. “shit,” he sighs quickly. “gonna come.” jeongguk hums again, paying special attention to the head of yoongi’s cock as he sucks at it, swirling his tongue around it, and yoongi curses, arousal coiling tightly in the pit of his stomach before his toes curl against the floor of the shower, the warm water making him shiver as he finally lets go and comes into jeongguk’s mouth.

it’s with a low, drawn out moan, eyes closing and brows furrowing as it courses through him white and hot. by the time he finishes and opens his eyes, he sees jeongguk still on his knees and mouth still around yoongi’s cock, enthusiastically licking over the head before he swallows. yoongi feels weak, suddenly, staring down as jeongguk grins up at him and has the audacity to wipe his fucking mouth before he awkwardly gets to his feet, knees popping as he does so.

maybe it’s the heat from the shower and the proximity of jeongguk, maybe it’s the post-orgasm—but yoongi can’t quite think straight, just staring at jeongguk with hazy eyes as jeongguk kisses him again.

“jesus,” yoongi finally mutters when jeongguk pulls back. “just when i think you can’t surprise me more.”

“i’m a very surprising person, hyung,” murmurs jeongguk, lips brushing together before he kisses yoongi again. this close, yoongi feels jeongguk’s own erection rubbing against his thigh when he shifts, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat before he reaches out for it, curling his fingers over jeongguk’s cock and making him gasp.

he’d get down on his knees, too, probably, if he wasn’t afraid he couldn’t get back up—but jeongguk seems content with yoongi stroking him quickly, leaving kisses and little bites on the side of his neck as jeongguk grasps at his shoulders to stay upright, gasping and moaning as yoongi works him to completion quickly. when jeongguk comes, it’s in yoongi’s hand, against both of their stomachs. and yoongi kisses him hard, thinks he could get used to this, too. could get used to anything with jeongguk, as long as it’s with jeongguk.

jeongguk giggles into his mouth, at him, at everything, murmuring something about needing to clean up again and how they probably should have done the blowjob part before the actual shower part, and yoongi realizes, suddenly, that he might be in love.

and somehow—it doesn’t scare him.

》》》

they spend the day being lazy, soaking up the sunshine, and unwinding after a week of constant get up and go. yoongi takes his time venturing out to the rest of the house and greeting the others, who are in the midst of making lunch. they share food on the patio next to the pool, making plans for the rest of the day. several of them head out after lunch to explore more, but yoongi takes the time to break out one of the novels he’s brought along, rather sitting around and reading it while everyone flits in and out of the house for most of the afternoon.

eventually, jeongguk drags him out of the house and to the lake side, where they walk hand in hand and share gelato from a little lake-side store. and it’s beautiful, of course it is—but yoongi thinks about all of their romantic talk, of staying in paris or venice or even here. and he wants it more than he’s wanted anything, especially when jeongguk laughs like that, looks like that lit up by the summer sun of italy. yoongi has to pull out his phone to snap pictures in lieu of having his camera, but jeongguk poses anyway and then tries to shove his phone in the water when he gets sick of it and yoongi won’t relent.

after they finish exploring, they head back to the house. namjoon, jimin, and seokjin have already returned, and yoongi makes no mention of the other two; he’s sure he’ll hear all about it later, or even when they go home. instead, jeongguk excitedly relays his plans to go for a dip in the pool and although yoongi neglects to join him, he does pull up a chair by the edge of the pool and brings out a glass of wine as he watches jeongguk splash around in the water.

maybe some part of it is a little selfish on his part, choosing not to get in the water with jeongguk; he’s never been one for swimming to begin with and prefers not to get wet when he doesn’t have to, but the truth is that he’ll take any opportunity to ogle jeongguk’s body. outside of sex, he has to admit that jeongguk has a beautiful body, toned and strong from years of working out and sports—or whatever it is that he’s done to look like that.

when jeongguk pulls off his shirt by the poolside and surveys the calm blue water, yoongi has to physically push his mouth closed. it’s not like he hasn’t seen it, but during those other times, he’s been a little too preoccupied to fully appreciate jeongguk’s body. and a little too close to get a full view like now, with jeongguk facing away from him so yoongi can get a good look at his back muscles.

before he can comment on it, jeongguk dives into the pool, slicing a perfect line in the water. and yoongi sips at his wine as he watches jeongguk surface again, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and then beginning to swim laps back and forth in the pool, arms and muscles cutting through the water like he’s trying to tantalize yoongi. but it’s only four in the afternoon, so yoongi’s not sure it’s decent to pull jeongguk back into their bedroom to do something about it. he can wait a few more hours, at least.

he’s (thankfully) distracted by someone pulling up a chair beside him, and he turns to see namjoon settling in beside him.

“not getting in?” asks yoongi, eying the book in namjoon’s hands.

before namjoon can answer, there’s a loud shout from the house behind them, and yoongi turns over his shoulder to see jimin and seokjin running out of the glass doors while pulling off their own shirts, shouting about cannon balls and drowning jeongguk. yoongi snorts as they run past and then fling themselves in the pool with jeongguk, succeeding in splashing namjoon’s and yoongi’s feet, but yoongi is honestly more worried for jeongguk, whom he’s sure jimin actually landed on.

he watches the three of them fondly for a while, splashing around and trying to dunk each other under the water. he’s glad, if anything, that there are others who are matches for jeongguk’s desire to play fight and be mischievous sometimes, as he and seokjin try to drown each other in the deep end of the pool. and it occurs to him, suddenly, that maybe he’s not the only one in love, even if it looks a little differently. and the seven of them living here together, enjoying their time together, isn’t just about a vacation anymore, and hasn’t been for a while. and when they leave—it won’t just be jeongguk and yoongi leaving each other. it’ll be all of them. and yoongi doesn’t know what to say about that.

when the three in the pool have calmed down some, jimin climbing out of the pool to grab some of the pool toys in the small shed next to the house, yoongi finally turns back to his wine and namjoon, who has put down his book as he appears to decide he won’t be getting much reading done after all—or doesn’t want to risk getting his book wet, which is wise considering how rowdy the ones in the pool have been.

“does that answer your question?” asks namjoon, gesturing to the amount of splashing and rough-housing going on in the pool.

yoongi snorts. “i think they’ve brought out the child in seokjin-hyung again,” he says. “which is nice, to be honest. i forget how chaotic he can be when he doesn’t have to worry about being professional all of the time.”

“he’s not the only one,” says namjoon. “you’ve gotten a lot more care-free on this trip.”

“this isn’t about me, joon-ah,” scoffs yoongi, uncomfortable with the conversation turning on him. “it’s just… nice to have some time to relax and focus on things other than work or bills or whatever.”

“sure,” says namjoon, and yoongi can tell he’s grinning without even having to look. “but i’m just saying the min yoongi at home wouldn’t do half the things you’ve done here. including running head first into this thing with jeongguk.”

“that’s because jeongguk isn’t at home.”

“i think he’s been good for you. for getting you out of your head.”

yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek. he knows that namjoon is right; he’s so used to wanting control of everything, to trying to take things slow and make sure he’s not going to come out the other end hurt before he makes any decision, large or small. but with jeongguk, he’s relaxed his grip, taken some chances regardless of the outcome. his need for reassurance and control has worked well in his favour when it comes to his schooling and career, but taking jeongguk’s go with the flow stance on things in the past week has been strangely invigorating.

and then namjoon adds, “it also probably helps that you’re finally getting laid,” and yoongi scoffs, threatening to dump his wine on namjoon as the younger man laughs at him. then again, that might be helping too, but yoongi isn’t going to admit it either way.

a little later, quietly, namjoon says, “really, though, hyung. you seem happy.”

and yoongi looks at jeongguk in the pool playing some terrible version of water polo with jimin and seokjin, and says, “i am.”

it’s not that yoongi wasn’t happy before—he was, sometimes, on days when things were good. he’s had a stable career for a handful of years, a family who mostly supports him, good friends who love him as he is but encourage him to grow. but it’s only now that he realizes how stagnant his life has become, merely waking up and going to work and coming home again, and waiting for something more. and here it is.

here he is.

jeongguk has blown wide open that part of yoongi that used to dream, used to look out at the world and wonder what would become of him, and dare to imagine that he could be anything. jeongguk has taken hold of him and shaken him, flipped everything upside down in the most unexpected ways. it’s the way he’s convinced yoongi to take risks, to try new things, to not need to hold all of the cards all of the time. and maybe it’s silly to think about only knowing each other for a week, but it feels like a once in a lifetime thing, whatever this is: meeting jeongguk, knowing him, loving him.

knowing that when he goes home, nothing will be the same. it simply can’t be.

jeongguk is so young, has so much ahead of him. and yoongi is only four years older, but he felt that distance between them like a chasm. slowly, it’s been closing, bringing yoongi closer to the belief that it might be okay if things are different when he leaves here. and that being afraid is okay, too, but it doesn’t have to stop him from embracing anything, especially the opportunities that rise up to meet him, the things that change him for the better.

it’s been a long time since yoongi felt something like this, something so strongly. and when jeongguk catches his eye from the pool, giving him one of those wide-mouthed smiles, yoongi isn’t sure he’ll ever feel something like this again.

jeongguk swims away from jimin and seokjin, who have taken to fighting over the inflatable swan that seokjin is currently floating on. he reaches the edge of the pool, folding his arms over it and leaning his chin on them as he looks up at yoongi imploringly.

yoongi finishes his wine, sensing trouble.

“yoongi-hyung,” begins jeongguk, and there’s already a pout in his voice. “come swim with me?”

“no,” says yoongi immediately. “i don’t go swimming.”

“not even for me?”

“don’t give me those eyes, jeon jeongguk. i’m wearing my good clothes.”

“i know you have swimming trunks in your suitcase,” says jeongguk. “i checked.”

“that’s an invasion of privacy.”

“my dick was in your ass yesterday.”

namjoon coughs awkwardly beside yoongi, seemingly always in the middle of these sexual conversations. and yoongi’s cheeks flare, but both jimin and seokjin don’t seem to have heard. in any case—“i’m not getting in the pool,” says yoongi. “i thoroughly enjoy sitting here and watching you three almost drown each other, but i will neglect to join.”

“but hyung,” whines jeongguk. “i wanna swim with you. it’ll be cute.”

“we can be cute when you’re dry.”

jeongguk huffs, but finally concedes, pushing off of the pool edge and swimming back to jimin and seokjin. yoongi takes the victory for what it is, turning back to namjoon to ask about the book he’s reading, but they don’t get very far before he notices suspicious activity in the pool. when he looks to the water, both jimin and seokjin are getting out of the pool, which—isn’t strange, exactly, but they’re doing so rather silently and looking like they’re trying to be sneaky about it. jimin giggles as he makes eye contact with yoongi, and yoongi immediately looks at jeongguk, who is still in the middle of the pool but is now wearing a shit-eating grin.

“no,” says yoongi, immediately getting up from his chair and slowly backing toward the house. “jeongguk, no.”

“what?” asks jeongguk. “i’m not doing anything.” but jimin and seokjin have gotten out of the water and are clearly advancing on him now, even as yoongi keeps backing away and holding up his index finger in a clear warning for them to stop or here will be dire consequences.

“jeongguk.”

“yoongi-hyung.”

“don’t you fucking—no!” he shrieks as jimin and seokjin run toward him, and he tries to turn and run for the house but he’s not fast enough; he feels a wet arm wrap around his waist, dragging him backwards even as he yells and struggles against it. but then there are two more wet hands on him, and yoongi can only shriek as he’s suddenly being picked up by the armpits and the ankles and carried back toward the pool.

“let go of me, assholes!” he yells, trying to kick jimin in the face, but both he and seokjin are just laughing at him, and so is namjoon, the traitor, and so is jeongguk as jimin and seokjin carry him to the edge of the pool and then just stand there, dangling him over the water.

“sorry, yoongi-yah,” says seokjin, and yoongi gives him the finger. “boyfriend’s orders.”

“he’s not my—” begins yoongi, and then jimin and seokjin throw him in the pool, leaving him to shriek for the two seconds that he’s airborne before he hits the water with a loud splash and immediately sinks below the surface.

when he surfaces again, the other four are still laughing, and yoongi gasps for air as his head rises above the water, quickly wiping his wet hair out of his eyes. “you—” he begins, rounding on jeongguk and lunging for him. “fucking brat!” jeongguk shrieks with laughter as yoongi reaches him and tries to shove him under the water, which ends up just being the two of them trying to dunk the other and yoongi failing miserably because he’s wearing water-logged clothing and hates it thoroughly, but jeongguk keeps getting water in his mouth because he’s laughing.

eventually, jeongguk just catches yoongi by the waist and pulls them both underwater, and then grabs yoongi’s face, kissing him there, underneath it all, a moment away from everything else. it doesn’t do much to lessen the utter betrayal he feels over being dumped in the pool, but maybe he realizes it’s hard to stay annoyed at jeongguk for anything.

when they surface again, breaking apart, yoongi finally gives up, coughing up a mouthful of water before he figures he might as well just stay in the water now. he sighs loudly as jimin and seokjin jump back in the pool and try to rope yoongi into playing games with them, and he says he’ll only play if namjoon joins—who does after changing out his clothes, a luxury yoongi certainly didn’t have—and they play and laugh until hoseok and taehyung return a half hour later, and then the two of them hop into the pool as well, and they laugh and laugh and laugh, and yoongi isn’t even mad about his clothes getting wet, because he doesn’t mind after all, not when it’s the seven of them, not when he’d take this over having to go home without them.

》》》

yoongi is just browning the meat when he feels arms sliding around his middle, linking around his stomach, and someone setting their chin on his shoulder. he tries not to jump at the sudden contact, instead using his free hand to pat at whoever’s head it is—and isn’t surprised when he hears jeongguk’s familiar voice murmur, “is it done yet?”

“i’ve barely started,” says yoongi. “patience is a virtue, jeongguk-ah.”

jeongguk groans, tightening his hold on yoongi’s waist and burying his face in yoongi’s neck. and yoongi can only snort, patting his head again before he returns to the beef, stirring it around the pan with a wooden spoon. it’s only their second day here, but he already feels like they’ve made a home out of this place, and it’s only aided by the domestic parts of it all. the other five decided to head out for dinner and drinks after, but neither jeongguk nor yoongi had been keen on it and decided to stay in instead, making dinner together.

it’ll be good for his wallet and health, surely, but not for his heart—not when he’s just reminded of the feelings he had waking up next to jeongguk, realizing he’d have this for the rest of his life if he could. yoongi pushes that down again, focusing on not burning their dinner even as jeongguk clings to him, pressing his lips to the side of yoongi’s neck.

“stop being distracting,” yoongi eventually huffs, awkwardly shuffling toward the counter to grab the spices and sauce even with jeongguk refusing to let go of him.

“but you’re comfy,” says jeongguk, kissing yoongi’s neck again. “and if i stay here, it’ll go faster.”

“trust me, that’s the opposite of what will happen. you’ll make me burn this and then we’ll have no food at all and you’ll be the one to blame.”

“you could just eat my ass,” suggests jeongguk, and yoongi chokes on his own spit, nearly flinging the pan of meat over onto the rest of the stove. jeongguk chuckles at that, finally letting go of yoongi—only after giving him a sharp bite to the neck like a damn vampire—and sliding over to the counter, which he leans against.

yoongi throws him a betrayed look, rubbing his neck. “i’m trying to make a homecooked korean meal, and here you are, being lewd,” he says.

“but you didn’t say no to eating my ass, so i’m going to assume that will be happening tonight. i’ll prepare accordingly.”

“you’re going to help me make this,” protests yoongi. “you can chop some of those vegetables.”

“do you really trust me with a knife?”

yoongi levels him with a careful look. “if you stab either of us, there won’t be ass-eating going on tonight, so it’s your call.”

the speed with which jeongguk grabs the knife and begins chopping up the array of vegetables next to the cutting board is almost impressive, and yoongi can only laugh to himself as he goes back to working on the meat. he can’t help sneaking glances at jeongguk every few seconds, though, watching him happily prepare the meal with yoongi, thinking—he could get used to this, to all of this. learning how much jeongguk knows about cooking and teaching him new techniques and finding out about his favourite meals, surprising him on long days after school or work with everything he loves.

he looks away when jeongguk lifts his head and their eyes meet for a brief moment, yoongi’s cheeks immediately colouring with embarrassment. it’s cruel, having just a taste of this domestic life, which yoongi has always been adamant about not wanting but is now realizing that maybe he just hadn’t found someone who not only made that life bearable but desirable.

“hyung?” asks jeongguk. “do you mind if i put some music on?”

yoongi shakes his head, offering jeongguk a grin. jeongguk plays some love song that yoongi is vaguely familiar with, but it’s not the song that matters so much—it’s jeongguk humming and singing along as he works, as they work side by side. and it’s jeongguk finishing with the vegetables and returning to yoongi’s side almost immediately, plastering himself to yoongi’s back and beginning to sway them back and forth in time with the music. and it’s jeongguk grabbing yoongi’s hand away from the wooden spoon and pulling him further into the kitchen, laughing as he attempts to spin yoongi under his arm, making them dance as he croons the lyrics to yoongi—lyrics about love and want and forever.

and even as yoongi complains that they’re going to burn the food, jeongguk still laughs and sings and spins him, and tries to dip yoongi in the middle of the kitchen only for yoongi to shriek and flail, nearly sending both of them to the ground in a panic. jeongguk giggles, pulls him back up, kisses him sweet and slow, and then pushes him back toward the stove while he offers to get drinks for dinner.

and it’s not fair. it’s really, really not.

they eat their dinner out on the patio next to the pool, enjoying the view of the lake as the sun just begins to set. jeongguk keeps making jokes about dessert while wiggling his eyebrows and yoongi threatens to toss him in the pool, but it’s peaceful for the most part as they enjoy their meal and watch the setting sun light up the sky in orange and pinks and purples.

they’re still golden.

“that was really good, hyung,” says jeongguk when he finishes, almost licking the plate clean before he sets it down on the patio table and shuffles his chair closer to yoongi’s. “who knew you were such a home chef?”

“i did,” snorts yoongi. “that’s what happens when you’re an adult, you know. you have to cook for yourself.”

“hey, ramen counts as cooking for yourself.”

“not if you make it with vodka instead of water.”

“i thought that was innovative.”

yoongi groans, hanging his head in his hands before jeongguk giggles and reaches out to take his hand instead, threading their fingers together. “you’re such a college kid,” says yoongi.

“i am in college,” says jeongguk. “excuse me for being young and having the whole world ahead of me while you’ve practically got one foot in the grave.”

“again, i’m only four years older than you. it’s not that big of a difference.” remembering that jeongguk is still in the middle of his university education does tend to send him into a short downward spiral, though—not because of the age, necessarily, but because they’re at different points in their lives. they’ve had different experiences, know different things, understand different things. and it’s a reminder, too, that they’re not going home to the same things, either. picking up where they left off looks differently.

“i’m gonna start watching the news just to see you, hyung,” says jeongguk, squeezing his hand. “isn’t that romantic?”

“you should be watching the news anyway, dumbass,” says yoongi. “it’s how you learn about the world and current events. and the weather. and sports.”

“i have all of that on my phone, though. i just want to see your face. i bet you look all dapper wearing a tie when you’re on the news.”

yoongi groans again, although he does wear a tie. he can just imagine jeongguk sending him fucking snapchats of yoongi in the middle of relaying a news story, except jeongguk has put dumb filters on his face to make him look like a dog or to have no nose and eyes the size of his mouth. he never should have told the truth about his job, but it’s too late now.

“don’t talk about going home, though,” yoongi says instead of trying to fight the teasing. “as far as i’m concerned, we’ll be here forever.”

he doesn’t look at jeongguk, but he can imagine the pout anyway—and then jeongguk leans over to press a kiss to yoongi’s cheek, murmuring, “sorry. no going home.”

“no going home.”

“do you think we could afford to buy a place like this?” jeongguk turns to look back at the villa, with all of its bedrooms and wine cellars and pools. it’s a stark contrast to the little apartment yoongi lives in now, and probably much more to the dorm jeongguk has been living in while going to university.

“well, i’m not rolling in money as a news anchor, and you’re still a student, so probably not,” says yoongi. “but we could always find a way.”

“hm. by murdering the people who live in the house and moving in and living off of them.”

“jesus, no,” scoffs yoongi. “i meant saving up for it or getting a crazy mortgage or something. why did you mind immediately jump to murder?”

“that’s what they do in the movies.”

“this isn’t a movie.”

“i know. if it was, you’d already be eating my ass. none of this long build-up. they don’t have the airtime for this shit in movies.”

yoongi has to laugh this time, admiring jeongguk’s persistence. that has to be half of the reason they ended up together anyway, because even with yoongi’s hesitance and fear, jeongguk wasn’t going to let the chance pass them by. after a second, he adds, “i think that would be a porno, actually. if it was just sex and no relationship development.”

“no one would want to watch a porno about two twinks.”

“i’m not a twink,” protests yoongi. “just because i have soft features and don’t have biceps the size of some people’s heads.”

“alright, hyung,” sighs jeongguk. “whatever you say.”

yoongi watches him, seeing the way jeongguk’s lips are curled upward on the ends, like he’s trying not to laugh. he takes his chances, then, reaching out and jabbing his fingers under jeongguk’s armpit in retaliation—but that just makes jeongguk jerk and yelp, sending his half-full wine glass tipping right onto yoongi’s chest and dripping down into his lap. yoongi cries out, jumping up from his chair as he looks down at the red wine staining his relatively white shirt.

for a time, neither of them says anything. and then jeongguk giggles.

“sorry,” he says. “although that’s mostly your fault since you tried to assault me.”

“i liked this shirt,” pouts yoongi

“oh, we can do laundry!” gasps jeongguk, putting down his now-empty wine glass and getting up, grabbing yoongi’s hand to drag him back into the house. “i love doing laundry.”

“you love doing laundry?”

“yeah!” beams jeongguk, pulling him through the house until they find the laundry room, immediately trying to pull yoongi’s wine-soaked shirt off of his body. “it’s lots of fun and i love the different smells of laundry detergents so i make sure to buy really nice ones. i brought some along!”

yoongi is so dumbfounded that he just lets jeongguk manhandle him out of his shirt, and then obeys when jeongguk gestures for him to take his pants off as well. jeongguk happily tosses them in the wash and then goes hurrying through the house to find his laundry supplies, coming back with a pile of his own dirty clothes to add to the load.

“see?” asks jeongguk when he returns, holding out the detergent. “it smells like flowers.”

“how do you not know how to cook but love doing laundry?” asks yoongi.

“uh, versatility? i can’t be good at everything, hyung.” jeongguk shrugs as he pours the detergent into the machine and then claps his hands together excitedly as he goes about figuring out how to turn on the machine and get it to the right setting. and yoongi is just standing there in his fucking underwear, trying to figure out how it is that jeongguk has fallen into his life, this wonderful and strange person he never wants to let go.

trying to figure out how to fall out of love before the week is over, because he can’t go home like this—with his heart in his throat all of the time, halfway to jeongguk’s hands, knowing that they might never have anything like this again.

after jeongguk figures out the washing machine and yoongi puts new clothes on—comfier ones, since he’s not planning on leaving the house anymore today—the two of them crowd onto the massive sofa in the living room and turn on one of the movies in the extensive collection left for them. jeongguk was disappointed to find the collection did not include kimi no na wa, but he was comforted by finding one of the iron man movies and practically begged yoongi to let them watch it. and how is yoongi supposed to say no to jeon jeongguk with or without the pout and puppy eyes?

although the sofa is big enough to fit all seven of their party, yoongi and jeongguk press together in the middle, cuddling and tangling all of their limbs together because it’s the best way to go about it. yoongi has no idea when everyone else will be home, but this is a position he’s not embarrassed for them to find him and jeongguk in, at least. he’s mostly gotten used to the teasing by now, anyway.

almost as soon as the movie starts, yoongi finds himself turning his head to look at jeongguk instead. it’s not that he doesn’t care about the movie, but—he cares more about jeongguk, about seeing him look so enthralled with a film he claims he’s watched ten times already. he keeps mouthing along to some of the lines in english, nudging yoongi and telling him that this part is really good, hyung, you have to pay attention, but yoongi can’t help it. his heart won’t stop doing funny things.

half an hour in, jeongguk finally catches him staring. asks, “are you even paying attention?”

“no,” says yoongi honestly. “i like watching you.”

“do you watch me sleep, too?”

“only a little.”

jeongguk visibly blushes in the low lighting of the room, but it’s the truth; if yoongi wakes before jeongguk, he has to watch for a few minutes, at least, revelling in what they have now. he doesn’t know when he’ll get it next, if he’ll get it next. and surely jeongguk understands that.

even as jeongguk turns back to the movie, yoongi stretches up to kiss jeongguk’s cheek, and then the side of his mouth, grinning into it. “you’re cute,” he murmurs.

“so you’ve said.”

“wanna take you home with me. keep you with me forever.”

even if they’ve been half-joking about staying here, jeongguk doesn’t laugh this time; he just looks at yoongi, eyebrows pinching when he asks, “really?”

“yeah,” says yoongi. “yeah, i like you so much, jeongguk. i don’t know what i’m gonna do.” he’s been avoiding it so much, but maybe it’s the glass of wine he’s had and the time of night and the things his heart does when jeongguk looks at him, kisses him.

jeongguk slides down the sofa until he can put his head on yoongi’s shoulder. “let’s go home together, then,” he says, like it’s that easy. “i think i kinda love you, hyung.”

yoongi sucks in a breath, heart stuttering within him. before he can say anything, jeongguk adds, “s’stupid ‘cause we’ve only known each other for like a week and a half and everything but—”

“me too,” says yoongi quickly, before jeongguk can get out another excuse, before he can second-guess it. and jeongguk lifts his head, watching yoongi with his wide, unsure eyes. “yeah?” he asks.

yoongi grins. “yeah.”

and that’s all they need to say about it, this understanding they have with each other—that it feels silly, feels too much, but it’s the truth. and yoongi is done denying himself the truth just because it’s scary and too big for him to hold. because this time, he doesn’t have to hold it on his own, and everything is always less scary when it’s with jeongguk.

》》》

the next morning, namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin convince yoongi to actually leave the house for more than just heading down to the lake or having a beer at a nearby bar. they head off to visit a castle on the edge of the lake, not far from where their villa is situated. although he’s gotten sick of historical sites, it’s been a few days since they were last real tourists so yoongi doesn’t mind as they walk around the castle and enjoy the panoramic view from the gardens.

seokjin is surprisingly well behaved, although yoongi figures it’s because jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk chose to hang back at the villa instead of joining them. he does make a few comments here and there that have yoongi shaking his head, but it’s a nice chance for the four of them to hang out separately after almost their entire trip was taken over by the three youngest members joining them.

sitting on a bench that overlooks the castle grounds and lake, namjoon sighs. “i almost forgot what it was like to just have the four of us around,” he says.

“it feels like something is missing, though,” says hoseok. “doesn’t it?”

it’s the truth—more than always looking for jeongguk no matter where he is, yoongi realizes that four people suddenly feels to be too few. he’s been so used to hanging around with all seven of them that he keeps catching himself trying to count them off only to come up short, or wanting to know what jimin or taehyung think of something only to remember they’re not here.

“this turned out surprisingly well,” says namjoon. “i was skeptical at first, i won’t lie. but yoongi-hyung made a good decision.”

yoongi almost forgot it had been his push for all seven of them to travel together. he laughs, rubbing at his ear as he says, “i’m glad it worked out. you three never would have let me live it down if the trip turned out to be a disaster.”

“we’re still not going to let you live it down,” says seokjin. “since we now know the reason you wanted all of us to travel together was because you wanted to bone jeongguk.”

“it wasn’t just because of that,” protests yoongi. “and people have done far more for far less.”

“it’s fine. we’re happy for you, hyung,” says hoseok, patting him on the shoulder. “have you talked about what you’re going to do when we have to leave?”

yoongi shifts uncomfortably. their conversation from last night ended with the half-confession, so he shakes his head. “i’ve been trying not to think about it,” he admits. “it would just make me sad and i don’t want that for the rest of our time together.” they have four more days booked at the villa after this, and the four original members were planning on going home after, but that might not be the plan for yoongi anymore. he feels as though jeongguk wouldn’t mind prolonging this, letting them go onto switzerland and austria and beyond, wherever they want. yoongi does have a job and a life to return to, but he can put it on hold for a little longer, just to understand where he and jeongguk are.

hoseok gives his shoulder a squeeze. “well, whatever you decide,” he says, “we’ll obviously support you. and i hope you’re happy either way.”

the truth is that he doesn’t really want to talk about it—doesn’t want to think about having to leave without jeongguk, so he doesn’t. they finish the rest of the tour of the castle instead, and then grab lunch at the little café that’s part of it, and then finally head back to the villa to reconvene with the others for the afternoon.

it’s as they’re making their way up to the drive to the house that the front door opens and taehyung spills out excitedly, a full bottle of wine in his hand. that can only mean trouble, and he can already hear namjoon groaning before taehyung shouts, “hurry up! we’re celebrating tonight!”

“it’s like, two in the afternoon,” namjoon calls. “can’t it wait until after dinner, at least?”

“absolutely not,” says taehyung when he reaches them, breathless as he grabs hold of hoseok and starts pulling him back to the house. yoongi watches them go, not entirely sure he’s up for day drinking right now, but seokjin just shrugs and hurries after them, and yoongi and namjoon make it to the house only seconds after.

inside, there’s music blasting, and jimin is busy dragging more wine out into the kitchen when they enter. toilet paper has been strewn all over the room in what yoongi imagines are homemade streamers, and he can only stare in bewilderment at the scene.

“we’re gonna order pizza!” taehyung adds as he puts down the wine bottle next to the others. “any requests?”

“something with lots of meat,” says seokjin as he grabs the first wine glass that jimin fills, apparently not bothered by the lack of information they’ve been given about the occasion for all of this.

“hawaiian,” says hoseok, to which taehyung turns to him with a look of disgust on his face, and they launch into a brief but passionate argument about the value of pineapple on pizza.

through the music, yoongi makes his way to the island and jimin, who is still pouring wine. “uh,” says yoongi. “taehyung said we’re celebrating. what exactly are we celebrating?”

“oh, he didn’t text you?” asks jimin, looking up with a bright smile on his lips, and yoongi is confused before movement catches his eye and he turns to see jeongguk stepping into the kitchen, stopping short with wide and panicked eyes when he locks gazes with yoongi, and jimin says, “jeonggukkie got accepted into a nursing program! in london! he was on the wait list but someone must have dropped out and they accepted him this morning so if he accepts it, he starts classes in like, two weeks!”

yoongi stares at jeongguk, who stares right back, and—oh. oh, he thinks, as the other shoe finally drops.

somehow, he forgot. he forgot that jeongguk doesn’t have the life that he has, that jeongguk applied for nursing programs all over the world and has been waiting to hear back about getting accepted into any of them. that jeongguk was planning on not even being in korea next year long before he and yoongi even met, and he can’t just change his entire life because he met someone he likes, someone who won’t be in london with him come the fall.

and he—should be happy. he should be proud, be celebrating with everyone over how wonderful it is that jeongguk has gotten into the program of his dreams. but all he feels is a horrible emptiness take over him as jimin pushes a wine glass into his hand, and jeongguk just stares at him, no amount of joy on his face, either.

jeongguk has been accepted into a nursing program in london. jeongguk has to leave. he has to leave, has to move across the entire fucking world from where yoongi will be when he goes home. and it’s great—of course it is.

but suddenly, he wants to throw up. and when jeongguk turns around and leaves the room, yoongi can only put down his wine glass, ignore jimin’s calls for both of them, and follow.

Chapter Text

he finds jeongguk in their bedroom—their bedroom, something that has only been for a few days and can only be for a few days more. suddenly, yoongi remembers that this isn’t at all theirs, that all of their talk about staying in venice or paris together can never be reality. they can never have their little apartment above the water, can never have their dog, can never be the way they dreamed—because life doesn’t fucking work that way.

it works like this: jeongguk has been accepted into a nursing program in london. if he decides to go, he’ll be there for years, maybe even for the rest of his life.

yoongi will go back to seoul, where he has a career and an apartment and a life.

the fucking end.

jeongguk sits on his side of the bed, cautious eyes watching yoongi enter the room after him and close the door. outside, the others are still blasting music and celebrating—celebrating, because this is something they should all celebrate. but yoongi can’t deny the overwhelming feeling of loss in the pit of his stomach, heavy like a stone sinking far below the surface.

for a time, neither of them speaks; jeongguk sits on the bed and watches yoongi, and yoongi stands with his back against the door and watches right back. all at once, their easy summer fling, this fantastic vacation, has turned into just another sour taste in yoongi’s mouth. it’s he who speaks first, realizing that all of jeongguk’s boldness and confidence have fled as soon as reality shone a light on them. it was easy for them to be reckless with each other when they were thousands of miles from home, where they could reinvent themselves. now, they can only be who they are: two people who happen to come from the same place, but have always been going in different directions, people who happened to cross paths in the middle of it all and now must continue without each other.

“you got accepted?” yoongi asks quietly, like he needs the confirmation.

jeongguk nods, small.

yoongi takes a deep breath. “congratulations,” he says. “i’m really proud of you.”

“don’t,” says jeongguk, face contorting in pain before he looks away, hand tight on the edge of the bed. “don’t do that.”

“don’t do what? i am.”

“i don’t want—” jeongguk begins and then breathes out a frustrated sigh, scrubbing at his eyes with both hands. “i don’t want that from you right now.”

“what do you want?” asks yoongi. “do you want me to be upset? because i am, a little. and it makes me feel like shit that my first reaction to hearing such great news is what about me? because it’s not about me.”

jeongguk drops his hands and looks at yoongi—really looks at him, all raw and vulnerable. he looks on the verge of tears, of sad tears, which is the opposite of how he should be feeling right about now. they’ve spoken about this enough times, about jeongguk’s dream of becoming a nurse and being able to help the less fortunate, of working hard to keep his grades up so that when he applied to schools outside of korea, he’d have a better chance of getting in. of having all of these dreams—going to school abroad to have an adventure while also earning an education, of loving each city they visited that he happened to apply to a school in, knowing he could do so much there.

this is his dream. jeongguk should be out there, celebrating with everyone else. instead, he’s here with yoongi, looking utterly lost.

“i didn’t really think i would get in,” admits jeongguk eventually. “i knew i applied late so i was ready to take a gap year before applying again, and i could… i dunno.” he huffs, leaning over his knees and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “i would have been upset about not getting in before, but now i don’t—hyung, i don’t know what to do.”

something pangs in yoongi’s chest, his heart aching. maybe it’s selfish to assume himself the reason for such hesitation, but he knows this is the only thing that has changed since before jeongguk arrived in europe: this wonderful, strange, serendipitous thing between them. and to think that’s he’s the reason jeongguk is hesitating on his dream, trying to decide if it’s really worth it—it makes him ache.

yoongi finally steps into the room, sitting down beside jeongguk on the bed and pulling jeongguk into his chest, giving him a half-hug as he drops a kiss to the top of that lovely head of pink hair. “jeongguk-ah,” he says lowly. “why are you unsure about this? it’s what you’ve wanted for so long; those are your own words. it should be a no-brainer.”

jeongguk groans, turning his head fully into yoongi’s chest so that yoongi can hold him properly, can tug him in further, can run his hands up and down jeongguk’s back. it shouldn’t be a hard choice. and it probably isn’t; jeongguk knows what he should choose. but follies of the heart have always been louder than logic, and he’s young—so young, with so much ahead of him. yoongi can’t let jeongguk throw this kind of thing away over what they have, no matter how much he wants to cling to it.

“it’s london,” jeongguk finally says, muffled by yoongi’s chest. “it’s so far away from korea. i won’t be able to see my family, won’t have my culture or language, not in the same way. everything is at home. home has… my favourite foods and all of my friends and things that i know, that i understand. home has—” he stops suddenly, but yoongi’s mind finishes it anyway: home has you. gingerly, jeongguk says, “i don’t mind most of that stuff. but i thought, maybe—we could—” he huffs out a laugh, lifting his head to look up at yoongi. and yoongi frowns at him, running a hand through his hair, rubbing over the creases of jeongguk’s eyes. “i don’t want to leave without you.”

“i can’t go to london, jeongguk.”

“i don’t have to either.”

“baby, listen to me,” says yoongi carefully, grasping jeongguk’s face in his hands. no matter what he feels, has been feeling for a week and a half now, he sees the truth of it so plainly. even if his initial reaction was disappointment, seeing jeongguk’s hesitation has only pushed yoongi into determination and conviction, knowing that he can never put himself before the rest of jeongguk’s life, even if he wants to—even if he wants to hold onto this, onto the possibility of what they could be. 

jeongguk pouts at him. yoongi can’t help grinning, just a little. “this is going to be hard to hear,” he says. “but you and me? we’re… we’re an accident. we just happened to meet somewhere far from home and we made the most of it, but we were always going to have to go home. we were always going to have to end whatever happened because that’s how life works. and if you’re thinking about rejecting an offer like that because it means we can’t be together, then i don’t know what to tell you.”

“hyung—”

“you have to accept it, jeongguk-ah. this is your dream. it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to do something amazing in an amazing place—to meet amazing people and learn so much and take advantage of things that so many people would die for.” yoongi sighs, rubbing his thumbs over jeongguk’s cheekbones. “and i like you so much, jeongguk. this has been the best week and a half of my life and i don’t want to let you go, either. i really, really don’t. i think we could be great together, if that’s what we wanted. but you can’t put me before you. and if you don’t know how to, then i’ll do it for you.”

“but i want you,” says jeongguk, eyes brimming with tears. “i like you so much, hyung.”

“i know,” whispers yoongi. “but you’ve wanted to be a nurse for much longer. i’m just a blip in your life. this time next year, you’ll look back and wonder why on earth you considered staying in seoul for some boy.”

“don’t say that. don’t—” jeongguk sniffs, yoongi wiping at a tear that escapes out of his eye. “why can’t i have both?”

“we’ve only known each other for a week and a half,” says yoongi. “i’m not worth rejecting an offer from a great school with a great nursing program for. and… i mean, it’s three or four years, right? you never know. maybe if you decide to come back to seoul, we can catch up and hang out. see what happens.”

“i don’t like that idea.”

“i’m not letting you come back to seoul for me, jeongguk. you are so, so lovely. you deserve only the best. and right now, that’s not me.”

jeongguk looks like he wants to argue again, but holds his tongue. the truth is that yoongi isn’t going to give this up, knowing how utterly ridiculous it would be for jeongguk to give up this opportunity just because he and yoongi like each other. and yoongi does like jeongguk—could imagine so much of their life together if they both went back to seoul. he’d ask jeongguk on dates, would do it all properly. but it’s not about him and what he wants. it’s about the rest of jeongguk’s life, about being certain that he deserves to go to this school.

and yoongi will be fine. he’ll go home and be sad for a while, probably, but it won’t be the end of the world. jeongguk will always be this amazing story he’ll keep with him, something about what could have been—but he has plenty of those. jeongguk deserves more than someone he met in europe holding him back from reaching for everything he’s dreamed of.

“i want you to be happy,” says yoongi firmly. “and going to this school, becoming a nurse… that’s what will make you happy.”

“you make me happy,” whispers jeongguk.

“i make you happy here,” says yoongi. “and we still have two days left, right? so we can make the most of it. and then you can go to london and be the most amazing student and make everyone fall in love with you. and you can text me. you’ve been waiting so long for this, jeongguk. it’s really sad that you achieving your dream means our story is cut short, but i think you know that’s what has to happen.”

jeongguk’s face crumbles, but he doesn’t let yoongi see; instead, he crashes into yoongi’s chest, wrapping both arms around him and burying his face in yoongi’s neck again. “i hate that i know you’re right,” he says. “i just wish it didn’t have to hurt.”

“it’ll be worth it,” says yoongi, kissing the side of jeongguk’s head. “i promise.” like this, without jeongguk watching, he allows himself to feel it: the sadness, the loss. it’s for the best and they both know it, but jeongguk is right: it still hurts. and with his own eyes beginning to blur from tears, yoongi rapidly blinks them away, pulling jeongguk away so he can kiss his closed lids, down his cheeks, the side of his mouth.

when they finally meet in the middle, there’s something different about it already—the weight of each kiss feels heavier, means more. it’s just one more kiss closer to the end, until they’ll be on other side of the world with no way of finding out what could have been. but yoongi is determined to have as many fucking kisses as he can while they’re still here, before the ticking time bomb reaches its end and destroys them both.

between one kiss and the next, quiet and sighed, jeongguk whispers, “okay. okay, hyung. i’m going to accept the offer.”

and yoongi smiles—really, truly, feeling that pride and happiness for jeongguk that he should have felt at first. at least they have this, he thinks—at least they have each other now, even if it’s not forever. nothing ever is.

》》》

the bar is small, what looks like christmas lights strung up around a small stage that must be used for musical events or karaoke. it almost reminds yoongi of that first bar in amsterdam, the one where they all met and came together—and so it’s appropriate that this should be the site for their very last hurrah, the final celebration and excursion into the wilderness of europe before they all say their goodbyes and head home. in less than forty-eight hours, the seven of them will be heading their separate ways. or: jeongguk, jimin, and taehyung will be hopping a flight earlier than the other four, and once back in korea, they’ll all have their own lives to go back to.

despite the finality of it, despite the bittersweet taste in all of their mouths knowing they’re finally coming to the end of their time together, yoongi is determined to make this a fantastic last evening out. it seems the rest of them are just as eager, too, as they immediately order an obscene amount of alcohol for the table and get to drinking it as they laugh and tell stories and gossip, much in the same way they’ve been doing for almost two weeks.

yoongi reaches for drink after drink, maybe some sort of coping mechanism because of what will have to come next. but no one seems to mind as they all do shots together and seokjin manages to pull yoongi onto the makeshift dancefloor in the corner with the rest of them, stumbling over their own feet as they dance and sing to songs they only know half of the words to. if the locals stare, they don’t mind. if their fellow tourists stare, they don’t mind. tonight is only about the seven of them: no time to be sad or say goodbye, only time to celebrate, to remember all that has come together in the past two weeks.

and could it only have been two weeks since hoseok pulled taehyung into their hotel room in amsterdam? it feels as though yoongi has lived a whole lifetime here, has grown and learned and loved. has found parts of himself in each of the other six men he’s taken this journey with, and somehow, he’ll have to learn to live with it when he goes home. it seems an impossible task on his own—but as namjoon sings badly along to the one italian song he happens to know and hoseok practically rolls around on the floor laughing and seokjin tries to twerk or something, yoongi realizes he’s not on his own. when he goes home, even if jeongguk goes to london and jimin and taehyung begin their new post-grad lives, yoongi still isn’t alone. and he never was.

by the time they stumble back into the booth they snagged at the beginning of the night, yoongi is pleasantly buzzed. it helps to lessen the ache of knowing this is the end, of knowing that in such a short time, he’ll have to go home and pretend that life is completely normal. he never imagined that a europe trip with friends would turn out like this: with love and loss and so much more, so much he could never have hoped for.

he says as much when he finds himself squished between taehyung and namjoon, leaning his head on taehyung’s shoulder partially because everything is sort of spinning and partially because namjoon is half on his lap and squishing him into taehyung and it’s the only logical place to put his head anyway.

taehyung hums beside him, seemingly the only one who heard. “it’s been good,” he agrees. “it’s been really, really good.”

“i can’t believe this started because of some weed,” says hoseok with a giggle, across the table from yoongi and bright red with drunkenness. it’ll be approximately half an hour before he starts having an existential crisis, but at least he’s enjoying his time now. “what if tae and i weren’t fucking stoners?”

“we never would have almost died in morning bike traffic in amsterdam,” says namjoon, making yoongi giggle as he remembers their first night (and morning) together fondly.

“or nearly gotten arrested for trying to steal the crown jewels in london,” says seokjin.

“or gotten drunk on the lawn in front of the eiffel tower,” says taehyung.

“or fucking panic about yoongi-hyung and jeongguk being sick in venice only to find out they were just boning the whole time,” says jimin. yoongi groans even as everyone laughs at them, hiding his face in taehyung’s shoulder. under the table, he feels something nudge his foot and looks up to find jeongguk sitting directly across from him, eyes hazy with alcohol and giving him one of those goofy grins yoongi has become so fond of.

“honestly, that would have been the saddest part,” says taehyung as he pats yoongi’s head. “seeing europe and getting drunk everywhere and doing stupid things was fun, but it would have been a shame if yoongi-hyung and jeongguk hadn’t met. what a pleasure to witness such a wholesome love story.”

even as yoongi blushes so fiercely it almost hurts, seokjin bangs his fist on the table. “wholesome?” he demands. “wholesome? they can’t even keep their hands off of each other for two minutes! last night i went for a midnight snack and we all know the kitchen is nearest to their bedroom and i could fucking hear them going at it like rabid animals.”

“hyung,” groans yoongi, but he doesn’t really have a way to argue, since seokjin isn’t exactly wrong. all it does is call down a new rain of teasing and raucous laughter, unable to stop the flood of reminiscing that accompanies all of this.

“remember when they were too afraid to look at each other?” giggles jimin. “jeongguk whined about it so much, how he thought maybe hyung liked him but they were both too shy to make a move.”

“as if the whole of europe couldn’t tell,” scoffs seokjin. “yoongi blushed every time jeongguk touched him. fucking aliens on mars could have picked it up.”

“some of us aren’t so confident, hyung,” complains yoongi, trying to kick him under the table. it’s hoseok who gasps in pain, though, swatting yoongi’s hand in retaliation. “and you can’t complain about us not making a move and then complain about us making a move in the same breath. you have to pick a side.”

“who says?” complains seokjin. “i’m very happy for you two, obviously. but it’s gross.”

“you know, if i would have had to choose two people to get together at the beginning of this all,” says namjoon. “i would have gone with hoseok and taehyung instead.”

“they have been together this whole time,” complains yoongi. “they’re just really good at deflecting and all of you are more interested in teasing us than them.”

“if you wouldn’t have made such a fuss about sneaking off together all the time,” says hoseok, “maybe no one would have cared.”

“jeongguk doesn’t know how to do anything without a dramatic flair,” says taehyung. “maybe i used that to my advantage.” yoongi can’t help but snort. somehow, he’s not quite immune to the teasing, even if it’s been happening for almost two weeks—but he’ll take the teasing over any talk of what happens after this, much more interested in remaining stuck in the memories than looking ahead to the future where everything is so uncertain. he wants to remain in this world where anything can happen and he and jeongguk can be together for as long as possible.

once everyone has calmed down some from their laughter and teasing, namjoon heaves a sigh, leaning his head against yoongi’s shoulder in turn. “it really has been such a good time, though,” he says. “and i’m not just saying that because i’m drunk.”

“the best,” agrees jimin. “we would have just gotten drunk and wandered around for two weeks if it wasn’t for you.”

“sugar daddies,” coughs seokjin, making jimin giggle and pinch him—even if it’s kind of true. “but i have to agree. you three are like… i dunno. feels like we’ve been missing you the whole time. feels like we’ve just been waiting for you to show up.”

yoongi is glad he’s not the only one; it’s a miracle how well all of them get along, as though they were meant to be friends this whole time but merely had never crossed paths. it’s a strange thing for the crossing to happen in europe rather than at home, but he’s not going to question it—not when he’s gotten such wonderful things out of it.

“i’m gonna miss it,” says yoongi quietly, keeping his eyes on the glass in front of him as he swirls his finger through the condensation on the outside rather than having to look anyone in the eye. “i’m gonna miss this. and us.”

there’s a chorus of murmured agreements. and when yoongi decides to look up, he immediately regrets it upon finding jeongguk staring right back at him, lips pulled into a sad frown, forehead pinched in sorrow. yoongi drops his gaze just as quickly, knowing they’ll have time for that conversation tomorrow.

“it doesn’t have to be the end,” says seokjin. “it’ll be the end of the trip, yeah, but most of us are going back to seoul. all we have to do is make sure to stay in touch, meet up when we can… maybe we can make a little trip like this a tradition. i think i speak for all of us when i say i don’t want to let this go.”

“you’re right,” agrees taehyung. “it doesn’t have to be the end. s’till sad, though.”

“we’re supposed to be celebrating,” says jeongguk suddenly, almost the first time he’s spoken since they got back to the booth. “this sounds like a goodbye. there’s time to be sad later.”

yoongi yearns to reach out and take his hand, knowing that jeongguk probably feels worse about this than anything—because he’s the only one not coming back to seoul in the end, who won’t be around to meet up and go for lunch or anything of the sort. the internet allows for only so much, after all.

instead, he says, “we can celebrate and be sad at the same time. being sad makes the celebrating better, i think, because it just shows that we have something to celebrate.”

after a beat, hoseok says, “hyung gets real deep and emotional when he’s drunk.”

“shut up. you get wild for one beer and then have to sit in the corner and stare out of the window for the rest of the night as you try to figure out the meaning of life.”

“that was one time and i’ll have you know it was because seokjin-hyung poured my drinks and they were way too strong.”

“why are you dragging me into this?” asks seokjin.

“maybe you don’t want to hang out with us after we get home,” muses namjoon as hoseok and seokjin start squabbling, much to the amusement of everyone else as the tension drains away and laughter returns to the table. “i swear some of us do more fighting than anything else.”

“you’re not getting rid of us that easily, hyung,” says taehyung. “we’ve been through thick and thin together. almost died a few times, probably ingested enough alcohol to kill a man, seen things we shouldn’t repeat to anyone. but that just means we’re going to be friends for a very long time.”

“seven is a lucky number, you know,” mumbles yoongi, grinning as he watches the other side of the table engage in a newly intense conversation—even jeongguk, who has opened up more like he did that first night. “what a relief that we are seven.”

namjoon hums in agreement, and yoongi feels like—this is just the beginning of something beautiful. even if jeongguk is leaving the country for years, those are just a few years in the grand scheme of things. and while humans are selfish and want what they want now, he can wait. and even if nothing happens between them, even if they just remain friends as he’s sure the rest of the group will for as long as they can, it’s still a pleasure to know him, to love him. it’s a pleasure to be with jeongguk in any capacity, in any form—to witness his boldness, his passion. to burn just a little from how strongly he shines.

they sit in the bar and talk for hours, reminiscing about the wonderful and terrifying things they’ve done on the trip, talking about what they’ll do when they go home. it’s a celebration—and it is sad, but a good kind of sad, the kind that reminds yoongi what a privilege it is to have something to be sad about leaving in the first place. that’s how he knows how wonderful it was in the first place. and knowing that six of them will be in the same city for the foreseeable future is comforting, even if the one gone is the only one he really wants to be around.

but he and jeongguk can figure it out later. for now, yoongi is happy to laugh with his friends, to talk about the silly things they’ve done, to remember all that has happened. they pass around their phones to share the wildest photos they’ve taken—a whole collection of everyone sleeping in random places and positions, even one of yoongi falling asleep sitting at a restaurant just a few days ago, when everyone fucking left him there. they share their favourite parts and even their least favourite ones, bonding over the struggles of sharing rooms together and long lines on hot days.

they share what they’re thankful for, always some variation of the seven of them meeting in the first place, of how it feels like fate that all of it could work out at all. and yoongi is thankful for the courage that they’ve given him—that jeongguk has given him. courage not just to relinquish his control and allow this unplanned thing to happen, but to go home and bring that courage with him, to be okay with the unknown and the uncertain.

everything from here on out will be one big question mark, anyway. the least he can do is learn not to try to bend it to his own will, knowing it’ll never work in his favour.

by the time they finally get home, hailing cabs to do so, they’re still tipsy from the last drinks they ordered and it’s well past midnight. yoongi manhandles a drunk and clumsy jeongguk into their room, somehow managing to get both of them changed and into bed with only minimal trouble, where jeongguk immediately glues himself to yoongi’s side and wraps all of his limbs about yoongi like a koala.

“did you have fun today, gukkie?” asks yoongi once he’s sure he can breathe.

jeongguk hums. suddenly, yoongi remembers that tomorrow is their last day—that they not only have to pack up and clean and make sure that everything is in good order before they take their flights the following morning, but that he and jeongguk have to talk. have to figure it all out, have to say their own goodbyes. he wishes it could last forever: this oasis, this nook away from the rest of the world.

but he breathes in and then out, closing his eyes as he presses his cheek into jeongguk’s collarbone. jeongguk plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, curling it around his finger and then letting go only to repeat, their hearts beating in tandem.

“miss you already, hyung,” jeongguk eventually whispers, voice cutting through the silence.

yoongi turns his face into jeongguk’s chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone through his shirt. “not yet,” he whispers, clinging to it—to this one last, untainted night. “there’s time to be sad later.”

still, jeongguk adds, “i know you said we were an accident, but i think we still would have met. somehow, somewhere—because i don’t believe in coincidences, hyung. and i think that even when we leave, it won’t matter. i don’t know if soulmates are real, but you’re as close as it gets.”

yoongi’s eyes grow wet, suddenly, sheltered by the darkness and the silence and this beautiful belief that there is always more, that there will be more. he can’t think of a way to respond that won’t deny the truth of his emotions, the rabbit beat of his heart, but jeongguk’s breathing evens out and then grows deep before he thinks of something to say.

so yoongi presses another kiss to jeongguk’s collarbone, then up to his neck. whispers, “london isn’t that far away,” and for the first time since he’s come to accept that he will be going home without jeongguk—he believes it.

》》》

in the morning, yoongi wakes first, as he often has here; he blames this on jeongguk being a college kid who will take every available opportunity to sleep in during the summer, before he has to head back to a regular routine of early mornings and late nights slaving over his schoolwork. and this, too, reminds yoongi of reality, barely a moment to wake up before the truth is already pressing in like something sharp under his ribcage. he looks at jeongguk’s sleeping face and already misses him, already misses everything about this. and still—he could fall back asleep. but he wants to commit this sight to memory, wants to pull it out in the darkest moments just to give himself a bit of golden light.

yoongi carefully brushes his fingers through jeongguk’s hair, watching the pink strands part and fall back into place. his dark roots are just beginning to peak through, and yoongi can’t help imagining what jeongguk might look like with dark hair—if he’d cut it shorter or keep it long, if he’d style it differently. what he wears during the winters, if he drowns himself in large coats and sweaters to keep warm, and what tattoos he wants next and if he ever considers changing his piercings. maybe when he goes to london, jeongguk will change his appearance enough to have a new start, to shed everything that has been holding him back at home.

it’s cruel that yoongi won’t get to see it—not like he wants to, not like he should. but at least he has this: jeongguk’s peaceful face, eyelashes long as they fan his cheekbones. and jeongguk’s perfect nose, begging to be kissed. and jeongguk’s limbs tangled with yoongi’s, constantly seeking comfort and solace even in sleep.

yoongi can’t resist pressing his lips to jeongguk’s forehead in a kiss, breathing in deeply as he accepts it: today is the last day. this is all they have left.

he doesn’t mean for it to happen, but the action causes jeongguk to stir, beginning to move against yoongi’s body. when yoongi pulls away, jeongguk’s eyes flutter open in the soft light of morning and he blinks up at yoongi, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. then he closes them again, making a noise in the back of his throat, and just slides both of his arms around yoongi’s middle to hold him tight. presses himself in further, hiding his face in yoongi’s neck.

yoongi almost laughs, but he wraps his arms around jeongguk’s shoulders and head, pressing his cheek into jeongguk’s hair. he thinks jeongguk might be trying to go back to sleep, but then he hears jeongguk murmur, “don’t wanna go.” and he knows—neither of them can escape it. they’re both painfully aware of what this means, and yoongi just holds jeongguk tighter, kissing the top of his head as he whispers back, “me neither.”

and then—silence. neither of them says anything, because there’s nothing to say. not yet, not like this. it’s the last of it all, giving themselves time to bask in it, to revel in how far they’ve come in just two weeks. and as yoongi holds jeongguk and lets him be close, lets him burrow in like he can make a home out of yoongi’s chest and stay there forever rather than leave for london, he thinks this must be love. this ache, this pain—there’s a song about it, he thinks. only love can hurt like this.

he knows they’re both thinking about it—about the end, about having to say goodbye. yesterday, they had their celebrations and reminiscing, and now yoongi wants nothing more than to stay right here in bed with jeongguk, to savour their last moments. how silly, he thinks, to fall in love like this. to put his heart in the hands of a boy who was never really going to be his.

yoongi runs his fingers through the hair at the back of jeongguk’s head, feeling jeongguk’s hands tighten on his shirt at his back, holding on. holding on so tightly that it makes everything harder to breathe.

quietly, yoongi says, “jeongguk-ah.”

“no,” replies jeongguk immediately. “it’s time to be sad. let me be sad.”

yoongi grins, soft and careful. “i know, but i have to pee.”

jeongguk makes a noise of indignation, but then slowly lets go of yoongi. when yoongi can shuffle backwards off of the bed, he pauses to sweep jeongguk’s hair away from his forehead and give him a gentle kiss there before he hurries off to the bathroom. while he’s at it, he brushes his teeth, just in case.

by the time he comes back, jeongguk hasn’t even moved, still halfway on yoongi’s side of the bed with his face pressed into the blankets. and yoongi watches him, feels his heart breaking in two. in truth, this is so much harder for jeongguk—because jeongguk isn’t just leaving yoongi, but leaving his family and best friends, too, is starting over in a new country where everything is strange and new. it’s exciting, too, but there’s so much loss that must happen. this is the last bit of peace they might have before the oncoming storm.

so yoongi sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back to stroke over jeongguk’s hair, tracing his face gently. and jeongguk turns his head to peek up at yoongi with one eye, gaze still clouded in sleep and sadness.

“hey,” whispers yoongi.

“hi,” whispers jeongguk. “come back?” 

they should get up, probably. have breakfast, discuss last day plans with the others. clean, pack up. there’s so much ahead of them. but the pull of the bed is too great, the temptation to waste away the day and shut out everything else. because if they don’t get out of bed, then they don’t have to go to the airport, and they don’t have to go their separate ways, and they don’t have to pretend they’re okay with it.

so yoongi slips back under the covers, sliding over until he and jeongguk meet in the middle again, rearranging themselves like perfect puzzle pieces. he doesn’t want to be the one to break that silence, to force jeongguk to talk about things he doesn’t want to, so he stays silent. lets his hands wander over jeongguk’s back in comforting circles, listening to their breathing in tandem, to their hearts slowing until they pitter-patter together. across oceans, across thousands of miles—yoongi thinks even that will remain.

eventually, jeongguk says, “what if i get lonely?”

yoongi hums. “it’s okay to be lonely,” he says. “everyone gets lonely sometimes. but you’ll make so many amazing friends and have so many opportunities. and tae and jimin and your family will only be a call away.”

“it’s not the same. it’s not—this.”

yoongi will be lonely too, he thinks. but at least they’ll be lonely together.

“you’re gonna do so great in london, jeongguk,” whispers yoongi. “you’ll smash your classes and have the best life ever there, i just know it. and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be so worth it.”

jeongguk sighs, a puff of air against yoongi’s neck. “it’s just so far,” he says. “and it can’t be great if you’re not there.”

“jeongguk—”

“i know. i can’t pass up the opportunity and we’ve only known each other for two weeks. but two weeks is more than enough time to fall in love.”

yoongi’s heart stutters in his chest, wrapping around those words and tucking them away. he pulls himself away from jeongguk to look him in the eye instead, brows furrowing. “those are big words, jeon jeongguk,” he whispers, because being entirely serious about it terrifies him.

but jeongguk—stubborn jeongguk, determined jeongguk, bold and brash and wanting jeongguk—pouts at him, eyes dark when he says, “i’m not a kid, hyung. i know what i’m saying.”

“i’m not saying you don’t.”

“i do,” says jeongguk. “i love you, yoongi-hyung. and maybe it’s not the same love as people who have been together for a long time, or have been friends for years. but it’s something. and if it hurts this badly to think about leaving you, then i’m calling it love.”

despite how terrifying it is, yoongi finds himself grinning. he rubs his thumbs under jeongguk’s eyes, leaning in to kiss him right between the eyes. “silly boy,” he whispers. “i love you, too.”

“stupid, isn’t it,” says jeongguk. “even if i was going back to seoul, it would be hard.”

“maybe this is better,” says yoongi. “maybe it’s good to figure out how to exist without living inside of each other all of the time.”

“i’d rather you come with me,” says jeongguk. “or i stay with you. i like this. i like—us, hyung.”

yoongi leans back, regarding jeongguk with something sad sad sad in his heart. in his lungs, in his bones. he thinks some part of him will always be sad when he thinks about jeongguk. “i’ll make you a deal, then,” he says. “you and me? we’ll be friends. because it’s important to be friends with someone you love, isn’t it?”

“are you teaching me primary school lessons, hyung?”

“you’ll go to london and i’ll go to seoul and we’ll be friends. and next summer, if you come back to seoul even just to visit, we’ll see how we feel,” says yoongi. his heart hammers in his ears, unsure of his own plan.

“a year is a long time,” whispers jeongguk. “anything can happen in a year.”

“that’s the point,” says yoongi. “i don’t want you to… be sad about this all of the time. i don’t want you to hold back on opportunities or chances because you have someone you love back in seoul. i want you to have the best life you can in london without me holding you back. so you go out there and do what you want, and if, after a year, we still feel the same, then… we can figure it out from there.”

the truth is that he’s suspected their feelings for each other are circumstantial. spending so much time together, living in each other’s pockets, having the opportunity has allowed them to develop these feelings. but life on vacation in europe is so much different from reality. they’ll have different interests and schedules and hobbies, different opinions and wants and desires that could pull them apart just as easily as they can push them together. yoongi fears that they’ll go home and realize this love couldn’t have been fostered anywhere else—and maybe he’s okay with that. this thing with jeongguk will forever be the greatest adventure of yoongi’s life. but if jeongguk goes to london and finds a boy he can love outside of hotel rooms and pubs and the summer sun, yoongi wants that for him.

because that’s love, too—wanting the best for jeongguk. and yoongi knows he has to take care of himself, but for a moment, he allows himself to be selfishly selfless. jeongguk’s just a kid, has so much ahead of him; yoongi can’t imagine holding him back on the off-chance that they might still feel the same in a few months, even in a few weeks. he can’t let jeongguk go entirely, but he can suffice with this.

“i don’t like that,” jeongguk mumbles. “but i know you’re right that it’s the best idea.”

“you’ll have so much out there in london,” says yoongi. “and you can text me and call me all you want and you can cry about not understanding london lingo and tell me about how much you love fish and chips or whatever.”

“that’s embarrassing.”

“we should figure out how to be friends before anything else,” says yoongi firmly. “figure out how to fit each other into our lives once we go back home. we can’t compromise our lives for each other, as much as you might want to now. but we’ll have time for each other later. and you never know, right? if all of this could happen in two weeks, then…” a lot can happen in a year. but maybe it doesn’t have to be bad. maybe they’ll just realize how much they want to keep the other around, and yoongi is okay with that, too.

jeongguk sighs, turning his face into yoongi’s neck again. “i hate that you’re old and responsible and logical,” he grumbles.

“i believe mature is the correct word,” says yoongi.

“go back to blushing every time i looked at you. that was easier.”

“i do still blush. but now i just hide it by kissing you because you can’t see my face when we do that.”

jeongguk giggles—a glorious sound on a morning like this, when everything hangs around them so heavily. they can be sad and happy at the same time, can celebrate and mourn at once. when jeongguk looks at him again, yoongi just grins—a sad sort of grin, a wanting sort of grin. they have all day for this, to bask in what they have, to make the most of it. he’s so proud of jeongguk, so excited for what his life will be like in london, for jeongguk to finally reach his dream. and short of being the pessimistic person he usually is, yoongi realizes he’s excited to find out what their future might hold—even if it’s just being friends.

because having jeongguk in his life in any form is all he could ask for. he just wants some of that sunshine, some of that golden starlight. he’ll take whatever he can get, anything at all, if it means jeongguk is his in some capacity.

so yoongi kisses him—kisses him hello and goodbye all at once, soft and sweet and sad. kisses him into the bed, nothing more than soft presses of their lips at first before jeongguk’s arms wrap around him and yoongi rolls over, sliding his leg over jeongguk’s middle to straddle him. he kisses jeongguk deeper, trying to commit it all to memory: the way jeongguk feels under him, each crevice of his body, and how it feels to have jeongguk breathing like this, responding to each of his movements; the way jeongguk tastes, even this early in the morning, and when he’s a little drunk, and when he’s happy and when he’s unhappy; the way jeongguk giggles at him when yoongi nips at his lip, and the way he gasps when yoongi slides a hand under his shirt, and the way he asks for more without even needing words, body arching into yoongi’s touch.

he’ll miss it. he’ll miss it so much that it almost blinds him, but yoongi blocks that out: thoughts of tomorrow and the next day and the next, all of those endless days without jeongguk by his side. he’ll wake to an empty bed, knowing jeongguk is on the other side of the world and with a life of his own. but right now: jeongguk is here, and jeongguk is his. and yoongi isn’t about to let that slip through his fingers.

by the time they get worked up enough for it, kissing enough to make yoongi’s head light, he drags his lips up to jeongguk’s ear, noting the way jeongguk keeps clinging to him, afraid to let go—asks, “what do you want?”

and jeongguk says, “just… take care of me.”

and yoongi can do that, too.

he opens jeongguk up slowly, finger by finger, taking his time to revel in it, in this last time. he kisses jeongguk soft and slow as he does so, swallowing down jeongguk’s keens and moans so they can be part of him, too. he could spend hours like this, and finally does, taking all of those opportunities he’s wanted for days. if he can just slide his hands over every inch of damning skin before him, maybe it’ll change something. if he can take jeongguk apart with his hands alone, maybe it’ll change something.

and yoongi knows it won’t—but he’d a fool not to try, not to savour in every delicious sound jeongguk makes, asking for more. always asking for more, just from him, just for him. when he finally presses in, jeongguk’s arms and legs wrapped around him tightly, yoongi holds himself close, mouth against jeongguk’s mouth, against his neck, against the dip of his shoulder. it’s slow and almost torturous, but he couldn’t imagine it any other way—not when jeongguk clings to him so tightly, fingers digging into yoongi’s skin, hand curled in yoongi’s hair.

they’re just—together, finally, one last time. part of each other, one last time. like it’ll change something.

somewhere in the middle of it, yoongi realizes that jeongguk has begun crying. and he stops, hurried, horrified, hands wandering to jeongguk’s face to hold it as he says, panicked, “jeongguk-ah—baby, are you okay? did i do something?”

and jeongguk shakes his head rapidly, but it doesn’t stem the flow of tears. his eyes shine with them, wet tracks down the sides of his face that yoongi quickly wipes at, but seeing jeongguk cry makes tears sting at the backs of his eyes, too, like something squeezes in his chest until he can’t breathe.

“sorry,” jeongguk sniffs, holding a hand over his eyes. “sorry, hyung.”

“hey, it’s okay,” says yoongi. “it’s okay. hyung just wants to take care of you.”

“i just—” begins jeongguk, choking on a sob as he lets it out, mouth contorted and eyes hidden behind his hand. yoongi has stopped moving, but jeongguk’s legs are still wrapped tightly around him, keeping him there—deep and hot and so, so close. but not close enough, somehow. “i can’t help it. i miss you so much already.”

“jeongguk,” begins yoongi, voice breaking on the second syllable as his own eyes blur with tears. he tries to wipe them away as jeongguk pulls his hand away to look up at him, letting out a wet laugh.

“stop crying,” jeongguk tells him. “you’re not fucking helping!”

“you’re the one who started it!”

“this is the worst sex i’ve ever had.”

and yoongi—giggles, suddenly, at how absurd all of it is, and how the floodgates are now opened and wiping away his tears doesn’t stop them from returning, laughing and crying at the same time as he leans down and presses his forehead into jeongguk’s shoulder. he shakes with it, with how much he misses jeongguk, how much he loves him, how he wants this to last forever. and he feels jeongguk wrap his arms around yoongi’s shoulders, sniffing pathetically with his own tears and hiccupping, maybe with laughter, maybe not.

“never should have bought me that perfume,” says jeongguk.

“never should have held my hand on that glorified ferris wheel,” says yoongi.

jeongguk sniffs again, and yoongi finally pulls himself back, looking him in the eye. jeongguk’s are red and wet, and yoongi wipes away his tears, hoping they’re the last. “i want to believe that some part of us will stay here,” says jeongguk, “so we can have that apartment in paris or venice and have our beautiful dog, verona marseille. and we never have to leave each other, and we never have to say goodbye. and my heart will be here.”

yoongi leans down and kisses him, barely more than a brush of his lips. “my heart will be with you,” he whispers.

“fuck you,” says jeongguk, “you’ll make me cry again.”

“if you want, we can just stop fucking an—”

“no,” growls jeongguk, tightening the cross of his legs behind yoongi’s back. “we can cry and say romantic things to each other later. i’m so hard it hurts.”

yoongi giggles again, kissing him again—deeper, better. when he starts rocking his hips into jeongguk’s again, maybe it’s still the last time. and maybe nothing about this will change, but he’s certain, suddenly, that they won’t have to worry about what might happen in that year. maybe it won’t be like this anymore, but at least they had this.

after, they cuddle under the covers, legs tangled, jeongguk tracing the lines of yoongi’s palms like he did in london, so long ago. yoongi suddenly remembers what jeongguk told him about his love line, wonders if perhaps those can tangle, too, inextricable—or if he can make his own love line, one that leads right to jeongguk.

they’ll spend the day like this: together, enjoying the last hours they have. together, saying goodbye bit by bit until it hurts a little less.

just—together. and it’s all yoongi could ask for.

》》》

“flight 324 with service to hong kong international airport will begin boarding shortly.”

yoongi’s entire body tenses, heart lodging itself in his throat at such simple words—but it’s like a death sentence, or just one more reminder of how cruel reality can be. his eyes move from the crowd of other passengers waiting to board to the airline workers preparing to let people onto the plane, wishing he could ask them to wait just a little longer. don’t they know?

inevitably, he looks over to where jimin and taehyung are sitting, beginning to gather their backpacks as namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin talk to them. it’s been a strange morning, solemn—they finished cleaning the villa last night and packed their things, finally hopping on a train this morning to head to the milan airport in order to catch their flights. the younger members have an earlier flight that will take them to hong kong, then to busan, while the elders’ flight to seoul doesn’t leave for a few more hours.

that just makes it cruel. or maybe it would be worse for yoongi to leave first—or maybe it doesn’t fucking matter, because leaving is leaving. it’s never going to be easier.

he takes a deep breath and then turns to look at jeongguk sitting beside him, hands clasped over the arm rest, staring down at his feet. it was a silent ride to the airport, and they haven’t spoken much since getting through security either, but—what is there to say? they had their last bits of fun yesterday, and now the only thing ahead of them is separation, separation, separation. earlier, jeongguk took his hand and they haven’t let go since. maybe that says everything in the end.

but now—in just a few short minutes, jeongguk will get on that plane. he’ll fly to busan, pack up his things, say goodbye to his family, and then head to london. he’ll be there until christmas, at least, and then until the summer. for years, and maybe longer, maybe if he decides to stay. and yoongi will go back to seoul, will pick up where he left off.

and maybe that will be it.

he aches to think of it, to think that this could merely be a two-week dream adventure with jeon jeongguk and nothing more. he doesn’t want it to be that, but yoongi recognizes that he has to accept it might be, if that’s how fate wants it. if jeongguk finds someone better in london, someone who can be there—if jeongguk realizes it was all circumstance, and yoongi doeesn’t seem so appealing in seoul’s sun rather than paris’ or italy’s. he has to let that grow, too.

so yoongi looks at jeongguk, squeezing his hand. after a second, two, three—jeongguk finally looks up with the most heartbreaking look on his face that yoongi has ever seen.

“okay?” asks yoongi.

jeongguk snorts wetly. “no,” he says. “stupid question.”

“you will be.”

“i don’t want to hear that.”

yoongi squeezes his hand again. “if you cry the whole twenty hours home, they might try to kick you off the plane.”

jeongguk’s glare is sharp enough that yoongi almost laughs, even if it’s not the most appropriate reaction at a time like this. it’s the only way he can cope. “don’t joke about this, hyung,” says jeongguk.

“maybe i’m trying to make you like me less, because then it’ll be easier to go.”

“impossible,” murmurs jeongguk. “it’s impossible for me not to love you, even with thousands of miles between us. you can try all you want, but you’re here now.” he taps his chest, right over his heart.

“better keep me safe, then,” says yoongi. “resting in your tits.”

“hyung, seriously.”

“sorry, sorry,” laughs yoongi. “i learned how to deal with anxiety and pain from kim seokjin, and his method is to just make everything into a joke and then it’s easier to deal with.” that’s the truth, though; yoongi has tried to maintain a good sense of humor in hopes of making his life a little easier, but even that is failing now. no matter what he says or does, losing jeongguk is always going to hurt.

so when the announcement comes again—the flight is beginning to board, those in first-class going first—the anxiety spikes again. he sees the way jeongguk’s eyes widen in panic, gaze scanning over the crowd before they land on yoongi again. he thinks he sees wetness in them already, and yoongi feels his own heart tearing a little more apart, the careful stitches he’s put in them breaking more and more with each second they look at each other.

but he won’t cry here—not in front of jeongguk, when he knows he needs to be strong for the both of them. he just whispers, “oh, jeongguk-ah,” and jeongguk sniffs, immediately leaning over and pressing his forehead into yoongi’s shoulder. yoongi reaches up, running his hand through jeongguk’s hair, wrapping his other arm around his shoulders to hold him close, hold him tight.

“i don’t wanna go,” jeongguk says into his shirt, muffled and teary. “hyung—”

“i know, baby,” whispers yoongi, closing his eyes in hopes of quelling his own tears. “but i’m just a call away, remember? just a text. i expect to come home to a bunch of hilarious memes and things you’ve seen in the hong kong airport and updates on your life.”

“s’not the same.”

“of course it isn’t. but it’s all we’ve got. you and me, jeongguk—we’re in it together. and it’s going to hurt, but it’ll be okay. we’ll text and call and visit when you come home and it’ll be fine. right?”

when jeongguk doesn’t respond, yoongi pulls his head back to look him in the eye, to see jeongguk’s wet lashes. “right, guk-ah?” he whispers firmly. his own eyes are wet, but he wants to get this right, wants to make sure that jeongguk understands that they won’t lose everything. it won’t be like here in europe, where they could live in each other’s pockets and kiss all they wanted, could go out on romantic adventures every day and just be together. but in real life, that’s not how it works anyway. in real life, people have to make an effort to talk, to call and text and keep in touch. and if their relationship can last through that, then yoongi knows it’s right.

if they can be friends first, that’s all he needs to know.

jeongguk sniffs. and then he whispers, “right.”

yoongi surges forward, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss—the last of them all, so it has to count. it has to last them for months, for a year, and suddenly yoongi feels a new rush of urgency; he’s been worrying so much about jeongguk’s feelings that he’s neglected to consider his own, to consider how desperate he is for one more day, one more moment, one more kiss. he feels jeongguk’s hands fist into his shirt, trying to keep him there, and that’s all yoongi could want: to stay right here, to stay with jeongguk.

but all too soon, he has to pull away. jeongguk chases him, stealing one more kiss, two more—until yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, leaning their foreheads together as he closes his eyes, because looking will hurt more.

“i love you,” he whispers. “i love you and these crazy, stupid two weeks we had and everything we did and said, and i wouldn’t trade it for the world. but you are going to be amazing in london, and when you come home, i’ll be there. and if you don’t come home, that’s okay, too.”

“hyung, don’t say that—”

“no, jeongguk, i need you to listen,” says yoongi, more urgently, as people move around them, making their way to the line for the plane, where jeongguk should be, where he will be—“i want you to know that if you go to london and you don’t want to come home, it’s okay. if you go to london and find someone who makes you so, so happy, it’s okay. you don’t need my permission, but i’m giving it to you anyway. i want you to be happy and in love and to have everything you dreamed of, and if i’m not part of that, it’s okay. don’t hold yourself back for me.”

jeongguk sniffs, pulling away so he can look at yoongi with sorrow and heartache in his eyes, something yoongi could just fucking drown in—“but what if i want to?” he asks. “what if i want you to wait for me? what if i want—” he sucks in a breath, tugging on yoongi’s shirt. “what if i want you?”

“that’s okay, too,” says yoongi. “jeongguk, you can have anything you want. but things will be different. and i love you. and that’s okay.”

“i love you too, hyung,” whispers jeongguk. “please don’t forget about me in seoul.”

“impossible,” says yoongi, leaning forward to kiss jeongguk’s nose, to hold his face like something precious. “impossible, you beautiful, wonderful boy. you’re here now.” he points to his chest, and a tear finally escapes from jeongguk’s eyes, letting out a little groan of pain before yoongi swoops in, kisses the tear from his cheekbone, and then his other cheekbone, and then down to his lips again. “love you so much. miss you already.”

“miss you, too,” says jeongguk against his lips, and yoongi kisses him again again again, wiping away jeongguk’s tears as he does so, trying to hold back his own. finally, he feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see namjoon standing beside him looking awfully forlorn; beyond him, jimin and taehyung stand with their bags, clearly itching to get into line to board the flight. yoongi hates it, hates the way everything within him yearns to keep jeongguk with him, to beg him to change his plans—and the worst thing is that he knows jeongguk would. jeongguk would do anything for him.

but this is what they have to do. this is right.

so he stands up, pulling jeongguk with him, and then letting go of his hand so he can pull jimin and then taehyung into a hug, saying his goodbyes to them.

“take care of him while you can, okay?” he tells them.

“we will, hyung,” says taehyung. “thank you for… just. yeah.” he laughs, shaking his head.

“thank you for practically breaking his heart?” yoongi asks. “feels great.”

“shut up,” sighs jimin, pulling him in for another hug. “thank you for making him happier than we’ve seen him in a while. even if he’s sad now, i think—having you in his life will make it a little easier to breathe.”

somehow, that’s what tips yoongi over the edge—he quickly pulls away from jimin, wiping at his eyes rapidly as the tears threaten to overflow. because that’s what jeongguk has done for him: made it easier to breathe. it’s hard now, maybe, but when he goes home, jeongguk will be a constant companion through his phone, always there to talk to. jeongguk might not be here, but he’ll still be near, as near as he can be. and knowing jeongguk at all is a privilege, makes yoongi’s life a little easier to live.

jimin laughs, catching his wet eyes, and yoongi gives him a gentle shove in indignation, turning to see namjoon, seokjin, and hoseok saying their goodbyes to jeongguk. and then jimin and taehyung are heading toward the line that is rapidly moving on the way to the airplane, waving and calling their last goodbyes, promising to text as soon as they land safely, already talking about having to meet up when they’re all in seoul next.

jeongguk hesitates, watching them go, and then turns to yoongi with desperation all over his face. yoongi just grins at him, taking this moment to remember every good thing between them—holding hands on the london eye and becoming friends in a pub, buying perfume for jeongguk in paris and their night on the eiffel tower, sneaking off in venice and pretending to be sick just to be together, a blissful and domestic week in lake como.

there will be more. there has to be more.

they meet in the middle in a tight hug, clinging to each other one last time. “bye, hyung,” whispers jeongguk, voice catching on the second word.

“love you, guk-ah,” whispers yoongi, kissing his cheek. “be good, okay? i’ll call you when i land in seoul.”

and then, with nothing left to do, jeongguk joins jimin and taehyung in line, offering his passport to the airline agent before he heads toward the plane and—pauses, just before going through the door that will take him away from yoongi for months and months. he turns around and finds yoongi in the remaining crowd. after a second, jeongguk blows him a kiss. yoongi grins and reaches out to catch it, tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping.

and then he’s gone.

for a time, yoongi just stares at the door jeongguk disappeared through. and he’s—okay, mostly. he’s okay when seokjin joins him and puts an arm around his shoulder, letting yoongi lean his head on seokjin’s shoulder. they don’t say anything—and there’s nothing to say about it, anyway, not just yet. he’s okay when they move to the window where they can see the plane next to them, going through the motions before it takes off.

he’s okay when namjoon and hoseok join them, all four of them watching as the better half of them leave. they watch as the plane finally disembarks away from the airport, and then turns and begins making its way to the runway. they watch as it carries jimin, taehyung, and jeongguk with it, away away away.

yoongi watches as the plane soars down the runway and then lifts off and away, taking to the sky. taking his heart with it.

and then, finally—yoongi lets out a deep, shuddering breath. he thinks of jeongguk—brilliant, lovely jeongguk, with the stars in his eyes and a heart of gold, who laughs like calla lillies and speaks like roses. who will never be here again, not like this.

yoongi finally begins to cry.

》》》

they stay friends, as they promised they would. somehow, it’s not so hard to shift from constantly being around each other to only being able to communicate through text or calls. maybe it’s the desperation, the idea that clinging to whatever they have left might make things easier. in the week that jeongguk remains in busan, preparing for his move to london, they talk and text constantly, messages often punctuated with simple i miss you’s that hurt—but remind yoongi that it was something good. that it’s worth waiting for.

then jeongguk moves to london, starts his new program. the texts and calls come fewer and farer between, not just because of the time difference, but because jeongguk is busy. yoongi wakes to messages about jeongguk’s day, his struggles, funny things that have happened to him. sometimes it’s nothing more than a meme that made jeongguk laugh, but yoongi’s heart swells anyway, knowing that jeongguk is thinking of him at all.

but—they have their own lives. yoongi watches as jeongguk makes new friends, develops new hobbies and habits. he lives a life that yoongi can’t understand anymore, and eventually, he begins to feel the distance between them. eventually, he forces himself to stop jumping at every notification from jeongguk, to stop obsessing over every instagram post or tweet. yoongi just… goes back to his life. he has other things to focus on—a career, his other friends.

when he looks back at photos from the europe trip, it’s like stumbling over a tripwire in his heart; something stutters within him, something deep and uprooted. he aches for those days constantly, when jeongguk was here and it was so easy to exist. sometimes, on those nights when jeongguk feels more than a world away, yoongi tricks himself into thinking jeongguk doesn’t exist at all, that the summer was just a fever dream.

and then—jeongguk will text him. will say, i was looking through my pictures and found this, will attach a picture of yoongi passed out in a restaurant somewhere or laughing at him, too close to the lens and blurred out. will mean, i miss you i miss you i miss you more. and every time yoongi thinks the distance may have done him some good, he’ll be pulled right back again, realizing that jeongguk still has his heart in a chokehold no matter how far away he is, no matter what he might do or say.

they were all right—when yoongi goes home, nothing is the same. and it’s not fucking fair.

he tries to put jeongguk out of his mind as the days turn to weeks turn to months. tries to convince himself that being friends is easy, as he watches jeongguk live a new life, busy enough that surely he isn’t sitting at home and missing yoongi the way yoongi is missing him. sometimes, namjoon or seokjin will pull him aside, will ask if he’s alright—and he is, mostly. there’s just something missing, and it’s cruel to know what it is but to not be able to do anything about it.

suddenly, texting jeongguk hurts more than any absence. having him close but not close enough, having him at arm’s length when yoongi would give anything to have him in his arms instead, where they’re meant to be. but they made a deal, didn’t they? a year. a year, and by october, yoongi knows he won’t make it. but he has to give jeongguk time—that’s all the deal was about. because yoongi knows, of course—reckless heart, reckless love—that he’ll never feel for another person the way he feels for jeongguk.

but jeongguk could. jeongguk is young, jeongguk doesn’t even know what his life is going to be like. and yoongi will allow himself to suffer, will resign himself to a life of always pining after two weeks with a golden boy, but he can’t allow jeongguk to have that. so, if after a year, jeongguk has found someone else, it’ll be easy—easy to slip away, to quietly abandon the hope he holds so dear now.

sometimes, yoongi even fools himself into believing it’ll hurt less the more that time goes by. when jeongguk stops texting every day, stops calling every weekend to rehash the events of the week—yoongi pretends he’s okay with it. it’s good, isn’t it? it’s good for jeongguk to focus on something else. it’s good for their two weeks together to become nothing but a fantastic tale of love and adventure, something they can reminisce about on holidays, during summer vacations.

by the time the christmas holidays roll around, two weeks in which jeongguk will be home, yoongi has fooled himself into believing even he has moved on.

and then—he actually sees jeongguk.

it’s been four months. four months of distance, of yearning and aching and pretending, and then suddenly, the seven of them are eating a meal together in seoul, coming together after so long apart. suddenly, yoongi looks up from the menu in the barbeque restaurant and jeon jeongguk is standing beside the table, goofy grin on his face as jimin and taehyung immediately jump up and run to attack him with hugs.

yoongi’s mouth goes dry as he stares. jeongguk’s hair is brown, so different from the cherry pink that he got used to—and he knew, of course, that jeongguk dyed it, but seeing him in person is so different. he still has the same tattoos, is still wearing the same black and grey that dotted his wardrobe even on vacation. it’s the same wide smile and starshine eyes and loud, loud laughter, and—that’s the problem, isn’t it?

this is still the jeongguk that yoongi fell in love with.

and without even having to say anything to him, yoongi knows—this is the jeongguk that yoongi is still in love with. there’s no fooling himself anymore, not when jeongguk finally sinks into the chair beside yoongi, taking a moment away from the usual chaos of their friends to look at him, shy now as he says, “hi, yoongi-hyung.”

yoongi wants to cry.

instead, he says, “hi, jeongguk-ah.” and he doesn’t mean to sound so starstruck, but he can’t help it—not when jeongguk is his every sunrise and sunset, not when the ache comes back so strongly that it nearly knocks him off of his feet. he ignored his own feelings for so long that they’re rushing up to meet him now, forcing him to accept that nothing has changed at all. if anything, he just wants jeongguk more—something about absence making the heart grow fonder. something about wanting to know if jeongguk still tastes the same even after four months in london, something about knowing it’ll be even harder to see him go this time.

and still—“god, look at them already,” complains seokjin loudly. “i tried to tell namjoon that we can’t put jeongguk and yoongi in the same room or we’ll all feel lonely, and here we are. who ordered soju?”

they tease, like they used to. yoongi blushes, like he used to. jeongguk grins at him, something feral, like he used to.

yoongi wants. but he reaches for the alcohol instead, knowing it’s the only way to get through this somewhat unscathed.

it’s much like their wild nights in europe—the seven of them order enough food to feed a small village, laughing and talking and reminiscing as they eat. although jimin and taehyung now live in seoul and have been able to meet up with the older four periodically, even if not all at the same time, it’s different when all of them are together again. there was always something missing when jeongguk was gone, the final piece to their mismatched puzzle. they each have stories to tell, things to catch the others up on—jeongguk most of all as he details what living in london is like, the friends he’s made, and how his classes are going.

when he talks about it, his eyes light up in a way that yoongi has never seen—and as excited as he is for jeongguk, happy to see that he’s happy, even if he gets homesick and lonely and struggles sometimes, yoongi can’t help the emptiness that creeps in the more he listens. jeongguk loves being there.

maybe he loves being there more than he loved yoongi.

and that was the point—that’s why yoongi pushed jeongguk to accept the program offer back in august. but that doesn’t make the realization any easier to accept.

the seven of them talk and drink for hours, eventually moving to a bar down the street to continue the good times. and it’s just like in europe, when they all get drunk enough to act a little too wild, and jimin, taehyung, namjoon, hoseok, and seokjin commandeer the karaoke in the little bar, turning the entire place into their stadium.

and yoongi and jeongguk hang back in the booth they claimed, watching with amusement. it’s so much like the first night they all met that it feels like déjà vu, especially when he looks at jeongguk—who is somehow the same but entirely different, who knows things that yoongi doesn’t, who has moved on, maybe, wants to, will—

but then jeongguk leans over, hiccups (he’s drunk, too drunk) and threads their fingers together on top of the table. a whole forest blooms and wilts in yoongi’s chest in an instant, seasons passing by before jeongguk looks up at him, eyes hazy, grin lazy on his lips.

“hi, hyung,” he whispers. “hi, hi—missed you. missed you a lot.”

yoongi swallows. “missed you, too.”

jeongguk sighs, leaning forward even more like he might topple over, but then he closes his eyes, then he leans more, then yoongi realizes—jeongguk is going to kiss him. and in that split second, yoongi wants to let him. he wants to let this go on, wants to kiss jeongguk and take him back to his apartment, wants to have everything he’s been missing for four months.

but he knows, in his heart of hearts, that he can’t.

so yoongi leans back, slides his free hand up jeongguk’s neck and holds him away, firm. “guk-ah,” he begins.

jeongguk’s eyes open, hurt welling within them. “hyung?”

“we can’t,” he says.

“why not?”

yoongi isn’t sober enough for this, and neither is jeongguk. and he’s been four months and his heart still aches for jeongguk, still aches for what they had. but—jeongguk will be going back to london in less than a week, where he’ll be until the summer. and saying goodbye will be hard enough.

“hyung,” begins jeongguk, dropping his head against yoongi’s shoulder. “miss you so much. all the fucking time, like—” he hiccups, the sound catching in his throat—“like in my heart? like my chest hurts so much all the time, when i look at pictures of us or you text me or—or anything. and i want you… here. i want you all the time. hyung—” jeongguk gasps, lifting his head to look yoongi in the eye. “i tried, hyung. i tried so hard to do what you said, to have a life without you and i tried—i tried being with other guys, you know, like maybe that would help and maybe it would help me get over you, but it’s not the same. they’re not the same, hyung, i don’t want them.”

he tears up suddenly, eyes wet as he pleads with yoongi for something that neither of them understand. “i didn’t want to stay hung up on you,” whispers jeongguk. “because that hurts. and it’s so hard, but i can’t—i can’t make myself unlove you. i keep trying. but my heart doesn’t want it.”

yoongi bites down on his cheek hard to keep himself from crying, seeing this beautiful boy pleading with him, falling apart over his own feelings—and he understands more than jeongguk could possibly know. he thumbs at the corners of jeongguk’s eyes, wiping away tears that have yet to form. says, “stubborn boy.”

“i love you,” says jeongguk. “please.”

yoongi takes a deep breath. says, “i thought i could make myself unlove you, too. and then you showed up and my heart did this thing, like—like it was just easier to beat. like there’s just been molasses right here in my chest this whole time, and then i saw you and it just… went away.”

“please, hyung,” sniffs jeongguk.

“i don’t know what you’re asking for.”

jeongguk blinks like he doesn’t know either. but before he can ask for something yoongi can’t give him, yoongi drops his hand to jeongguk’s mouth, presses his thumb into his bottom lip and watches as the skin turns from pale to pink to red again, blood rushing where yoongi once existed. “we have a deal, remember?” he asks, eyes returning to jeongguk’s. “a year. a year and then we can talk about it.”

“fuck the deal.”

“jeongguk,” laughs yoongi, so pleased to find he’s just as stubborn as he was during the summer, so concerned with the chase and catch. he can’t resist leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the side of jeongguk’s mouth, as close as he’ll let them get tonight. “just until the summer. just until we have a little more time. okay, guk-ah?” when he pulls away, jeongguk is frowning. lower, yoongi adds, “okay, baby?”

“that’s unfair.”

“for me, jeongguk,” says yoongi. “do it for me.”

and jeongguk breathes in, breathes out. when he finally nods in agreement, yoongi pulls him into a tight hug, hooking his chin on jeongguk’s shoulder. and it’s easier that way, so jeongguk doesn’t have to look at him—doesn’t have to see his face, see the uncertainty of it. but it’s for the best, he knows. they can wait.

and wait they do.

》》》

yoongi is woken by a series of loud knocks. when he shoots up from where he was sleeping, he’s horribly disorientated until he realizes that he’s sitting on the sofa in his living room with a book still in his hands. he must have fallen asleep while reading and now his neck hurts; yoongi lets out a groan as he sits up, back muscles aching from the awkward sleeping position before he hears the knocking again and pulls himself up from the sofa to answer the door.

when he checks the time, he sees it’s only a little past seven; he’s had a long week, though, which might explain why he fell asleep when he did. and maybe he’s moving a little too slowly, because the knocking comes for a third time and he huffs, reaching for the doorknob and opening the door as he says, “yeah, yeah, keep your—jeongguk?”

jeongguk stands on his doorstep, looking dishevelled and like he hasn’t slept in three days. there’s a backpack on his shoulders and a suitcase at his feet, and he’s staring at yoongi with wild eyes.

“yoongi-hyung,” he says.

“what are you doing?” asks yoongi, confusion bleeding into a firm belief that he’s still asleep and certainly dreaming. “why is your suitcase here?”

“i came from the airport,” breathes jeongguk. “i couldn’t go to jimin-hyung and tae-hyung’s first; i had to come here.”

“you…” yoongi shakes his head, trying to rid his head of the last bits of sleep. slowly, it comes back to him—it’s officially the summer now for students at jeongguk’s school. they haven’t spoken in nearly two weeks because jeongguk has been swamped with finals and packing up his dorm for a move back to korea for the summer, but before that, they talked constantly about this: the day jeongguk would be coming home.

when yoongi checks his phone again, he sees that that day is today.

jeongguk is coming home.

and now he’s standing on yoongi’s doorstep, having come straight from the airport with all of his things, like he couldn’t wait, like—

yoongi looks up again, swallowing. carefully, he repeats, “what are you doing?”

“hyung, it’s been a year,” says jeongguk, taking a step into the apartment. instinctually, yoongi takes a step back.

“technically it’s been nine months.”

“you said the summer. and now it’s the summer. and i still haven’t been able to make myself unlove you.”

and time slows to this: jeongguk standing in his entrance, dropping his backpack on the floor. looking at yoongi with so much want and aching that it scares yoongi, scares the both of them, maybe. all of this pent-up desire that has been keeping yoongi awake for months, more and more so in the past few weeks as he counted down the days to having jeongguk back.

and the truth is—he couldn’t make himself unlove jeongguk, either. not in those first four months, and not in the five after. if anything, he’s just come to realize that he wants more, that it doesn’t matter if they were only together for two weeks, or that they didn’t know how to exist together outside of their little vacation bubble.

so it’s been a year. and even though he was afraid that jeongguk could learn to move on, would only see him as a summer fling, there’s no question about it now. their hearts are reckless and stubborn, but maybe that’s the only way it could ever work.

yoongi takes a breath, not allowing himself to move closer in fear of what he’ll do. “okay,” he says. “okay, so you still want this.”

“don’t you?”

“yes,” says yoongi immediately. “every day. it’s been… fucking torture. but you’re going back to london in the fall.”

“we made it work last year,” whispers jeongguk. “we can make it work this year.”

“it’s not that easy, jeongguk.”

“remember what i told you when we met?” he asks. “about… getting lost with me once or twice. just seeing what happens. why do we have to be sure of anything, hyung? i love you and you love me and that hasn’t gone away after a year. we know how to be friends, we know how to deal with distance, and maybe—it won’t be easier. but love isn’t supposed to be easy. i wouldn’t want it to be.” yoongi realizes that jeongguk has thought a lot about this. has waited for this, has gathered all of his thoughts, surely knowing that yoongi would try to back out—not out of a lack of love, but out of fear. out of needing control.

but he’s never had control with jeongguk. and wasn’t that what made them so good together?

“let’s just try,” says jeongguk lowly, taking a step toward yoongi. “and if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. but you never know, hyung. it might be the best decision you’ve ever made—just… letting go. letting yourself fall.”

yoongi shudders in a breath, suddenly feeling all of the tension in his body that he’s been holding for a year, waiting, hoping—and this is what he wants. this is what he’s wanted since he watched jeongguk get on that plane in italy. and now: here it is. now: here everything is.

he’s still terrified of it, of not having control. but he’s never felt anything but safe with jeongguk, and maybe he’s right—maybe they just have to take their chances. long distance isn’t easy and never will be. but love isn’t easy. it’s not supposed to be. it’s just—worth it. yoongi is going to make it worth it.

so he says, “okay.”

and jeongguk grins at him, blinding—golden. after all this time, he’s still golden. “yeah?”

“yeah, jeongguk,” sighs yoongi, heart fluttering within him, something with wings. something that can finally take flight. “i’ll try anything with you.”

jeongguk steps forward, again and again until they’re close enough to touch, and yoongi has to tilt his head up to look at jeongguk, to see all of that golden light and swallow it down. jeongguk reaches up to touch his face, fingers light and gentle against the skin of his cheek, his jaw. yoongi tilts his head into it, and it’s so much easier to breathe.

when jeongguk finally kisses him again, after all this time, it’s so much easier to just be.

later, limbs and hearts tangled and their golden future ahead of them, jeongguk presses a kiss to yoongi’s cheek, threads their fingers together. says, “hey, hyung. wanna go to paris with me?” he grins, wide wide wide, full of london skies and venice seas—“you owe me a kiss on top of the eiffel tower.”

yoongi giggles, brushing his lips against jeongguk’s. “i’d love to go to paris with you,” he whispers. “i’d love to go anywhere with you, jeon jeongguk.”