Touch is one of those things Hoseok has always craved, of which he has always felt starved. One thing he remembers about his mother is that she used to touch him gently when he couldn't sleep, rubbing his chest and stroking his arms, his forehead, and the way Jungkook brushes his hair back reminds him of that a little, a similar sort of comfort. He exhales a sigh of mixed emotions, of fondness for Jungkook, of the aching longing he has carried and will always carry for his mother, of the bone deep loneliness he can never seem to escape, even when he's surrounded by his friends.

"You already look mature," Hoseok says, trying to breathe through the heaviness in his heart. "And you have enough to worry about already without adding this hyung to the list."

Hoseok offers a smile, pats Jungkook's knee affectionately. He feels better in some ways and worse in others, but being able to put some of his locked down feelings into the world has to be better than bottling it all up. Maybe when he's had some more time he'll feel lighter for it. What he does know for sure is that he's grateful for Jungkook's patience, his kindness, and his presence in Hoseok's life.

"Thank you again for bringing all this food," he says, sitting back a little. "And everything else. Thank you, Jungkookie."