𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕤𝕖

Things have been tense. Jungkook knows that he should have been expecting it — there's only so long that either of them can stave off the dark days, and Jungkook's found that it's often better to face it head-on than to try and delay the inevitable. But between a harried schedule and the vain desire to keep Yoongi's birthday a light and happy one, Jungkook's procrastinated. Too many evenings where they eat in relative silence, and too many nights spent drifting in and out of sleep, only to find that Yoongi's body is tense in his arms.

It's just hard to make time.

He's running late in getting back to the workroom thanks to a study session gone late. Maybe Jungkook had a beer or two while he was at it, too, to help shrug off the tightness in his shoulders, to help him breathe a little more easily. He'd meant to let Yoongi know, but as he makes his way back to the workroom, footsteps echoing in the empty street, Jungkook realizes that it's been a couple of hours since he texted Yoongi last.

Five minutes away.

Jungkook winces, hoping that it's better late than never, and he sighs between his teeth as he swipes on his phone, finding Nayoung's number. He licks his lips nervously, holding the phone to his ear, keeping his voice slightly elevated so that Yoongi can hear Jungkook's approach, even as he stalls outside their door.

"I told you, I'm not — no, I'm not staying late next time. No, Nayoungie. I don't care how high of a grade I get on that essay, it's not worth hauling my ass across town in the middle of the — no, I told you, I stay with my fiancé over the weekends," Jungkook protests, shaking his head as he slips inside, coughing a laugh. "...what do you mean, my imaginary — just 'cause you haven't met 'em doesn't mean. Yah, fuck off. I'm hanging up."