In some ways, having the distance between them is easier, Jungkook thinks. There's a certain openness between them when they don't have to look into one another's eyes, as much as it pains him to feel that way. He wants for there to be a day when they can speak about this without reservation — when it can be out in the open, less for the sake of being revealed, and more because Yoongi will have come to a point where it isn't so hard anymore. Where he can identify which voices are the demons, and which are the truth. But it'd be naive to expect for either of them to reach that point today, Jungkook knows. He feels like he's only just begun to scratch the surface of what's there, and he can't help the way that shame licks at his cheeks, wondering already if he's going to be enough. If he's strong enough to give Yoongi what he needs.

But there are still moments where Jungkook thinks that having the visual anchor is important, and it's when Yoongi expresses a deep, bone-aching fatigue that Jungkook shimmies partway down the mattress, fingers still threading through Yoongi's hair, until both of them see eye to eye.

"I'll help you figure it out. Figure out what's real," Jungkook says, searching for Yoongi's gaze, his own earnest and unguarded. "This is real. The way that you love me is real. The love you have for the other hyungs, the way you look out for them, the way you always want what's best for them, even if they've hurt you. That's real. Min Yoongi is a good person."

Jungkook reaches for Yoongi's hand, lacing their fingers together with a soft squeeze. "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you weren't one."