As recognition dawns on Seokjin's face, Jungkook lowers his hands, focusing instead on the cadence of his breathing. He feels on the cusp of shaking apart. To be the recipient of blows is no longer an issue — his walls now sturdy and strong after picking himself up repeated times, learning where he needs to give and where he can push back — but the last thing that Jungkook ever wanted was for the ripples to spread. His gaze skirts lower in a matter of seconds, shoulders tense, not wanting to see the pain or confusion he may have just inflicted on his hyung.

Stupid. He should have tried harder to ward them off. Pretend to be sick, contagious.

"Thank you," Jungkook murmurs, bowing his head habitually out of respect and continuing to gather the robe around himself, hiding whatever signs he can.