lovestrippedbare | 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖

When Jungkook can joined his band of hyungs a little over a year ago, Hoseok was one of the first that he had taken to spending a lot of time with. Even though he knew that Hoseok didn't necessarily think of it in the same way, there was something freeing about the fact that Hoseok wasn't beholden to any specific adults — that he had his own place, however small, where every decision was his to make. And even outside of the backdrop of his apartment, Hoseok always had a smile and a kind word to give, never giving Jungkook the impression that he was judging anyone in the slightest.

Being around Hoseok was comfortable, like having a true older brother.

It's only now that Jungkook realizes it's been weeks since he last spent time alone with Hoseok, caught up as he's been with the flush of a new relationship. He asks for his mom to pack him several extra kimbap, noting that he plans to visit Hoseok at the dance studio, and immediately his mother goes overboard packing a bunch of banchan, all the sides that Hoseok likes best. For good measure, he packs a couple bottles of Sprite too.

To be honest, dancing itself isn't the biggest thing on Jungkook's mind — his stomach flutters with the indecision of whether or not bring up the fact that Yoongi's told him about the shared kisses, the shared intimacy over the phone. It doesn't feel strictly necessary, but Jungkook hates the feel of it hanging over his head, ignored and unacknowledged.

Maybe a natural opportunity will come up, he thinks to himself.

For now, he rushes over to the room where Hoseok teaches, having arrived well before the first wave of students. Peeking through the door with a smile, Jungkook raps on the wood.

"Hyung!"

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Hoseok's being a burden right now, he knows he is. Jungkook is happy and Yoongi is happy, all of his friends are, and his sadness isn't helping any of them, isn't helping him either. He's been trying to be as supportive as he can, keeping all those selfish feelings to himself, but he's failing now, faltering, and he feels guilty for every frown on Jungkook's face, every indication of sympathy. Of course his friend is empathetic to his sorrow; Jungkook is such a sweet, giving person, one who takes his hyung's troubles as his own. But that doesn't mean Hoseok wants to lean on him like this, to make him feel bad for being happy when Hoseok isn't.

Hoseok shakes his head, offering a smile as he catches Jungkook's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Don't do that," he says gently. "Don't bet your life on anything, Jungkookie. Especially not on something for anyone but yourself."

It's not just that Hoseok feels like Jungkook's gamble, as symbolic as it is, isn't a very good one, it's more that he doesn't want Jungkook to feel even a little responsible for Hoseok's happiness or sadness. He should be focused on himself, on his relationship with Yoongi, on the joy that comes with loving someone and having them love you back.

"Don't worry about me, okay?" Hoseok says, giving Jungkook's hand another squeeze before letting it go. "I'll be okay, I promise."

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, but finds that it's hard to figure out exactly what it is that doesn't sit properly with him. The idea of only placing his attention and risks on himself and his own happiness feels wrong, not just for the inherent selfishness, but also because it just doesn't feel possible. When Jungkook tries to reflect upon who he thinks he is, who he wants to lay stakes for, he finds that it's impossible to extricate himself from his hyungs.

Without them, who is he, really? Who was he, before Taehyung first reached out to him?

Afraid and nervous. Always focused on making sure his steps never crossed the line, on following his father's orders as best he could, even if it would never yield the pride and affection Jungkook hoped to inspire.

"I don't think I can not worry about you or any of the others, hyung," Jungkook frowns. "And that's not me being stubborn or anything, it's... I mean, you're all my family. So you're like a part of me. Of course I'd bet my life on all of you. Any of you."

Hoseok understands that, believing in the others, being willing to give up his own happiness or comfort to make any of their lives better. He'd sooner seen them thriving and finding joy than holding onto it for himself.

But he also feels like he's not worth that sentiment turned back around. It wasn't his choice to be where he is in life, but maybe it was his fault. If he'd been a better son, if he'd been healthy and normal, maybe his mother wouldn't have given him up.

And now he's becoming that same kind of burden to his friends. He trusts them and he loves them and he needs them, probably more than they realize. He can't lose them, not now that he has hands to hold him up, to keep him safe. Which means he has to be careful how much he leans on them, how much he lets them see. He's so much uglier on the inside, ugly enough to make them all turn their backs on him.

He wants to say he isn't worth Jungkook's worry because it's true, but he doesn't want to shun Jungkook's kindness either. "You're my family too," he says, also true, more important. "All of you are, but you're as close to a real brother as I'll ever have, Jungkook. And I'm so thankful for you. I don't want to make you worry."

There's no way to quickly erase the melancholy from Hoseok's expression, or to push away lonely thoughts from his mind. Moods like that have a tendency to linger, Jungkook knows, until there's distraction enough to pull one's mind away — distraction of a sort that Jungkook probably can't offer today, not when he sits there as a physical reminder of how some of Hoseok's friends have found a deeper kind of affection for one another. (Is deeper the right word? Maybe not. But different, to be sure.)

But Jungkook tries nonetheless to make the moment a gentler one, reaching out towards Hoseok's hair, brushing it lightly to either side and exposing his forehead. He's not sure what the best outcome is that he should be hoping for. Some mix, perhaps, of Hoseok coming to realize that there are people who like him that way, and for him to meet someone who can reciprocate his own desires directly.

Even, Jungkook thinks to himself, if that happens to pull Hoseok a little bit away from the group. He still hopes that it'll happen. Because he's sure that Hoseok would be the type to dole out that love in spades, and it'd be a shame for the opportunity to go unrealized.

"I don't think it's so bad for someone to worry a healthy amount. It builds character," Jungkook says, his tone light as he smiles. "Besides, I've been told that I might even look mature if I had a few worry lines here or there, you know?"

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."

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