Even with his face hidden against Jungkook's shoulder, Yoongi knows there's no hiding the way his expression just shifted, the happiness melting away again as his shoulders slump. Even if they stay in, there's no real hiding from this, no pretending it away, when trouble in Jungkook's house leaves visible marks. He steadies himself with slow, deep breaths, hand rubbing gentle circles at Jungkook's waist.

He wants to ask. He wants to know exactly what happened, if it was his brother this time or his father again, wants every detail, like somehow, if he knows, he can leech it all away from Jungkook and take it on for his own. It would be a fair trade.

Making Jungkook go over it again won't fix anything. It would only make him angry, and they don't need that. So Yoongi presses another kiss to his neck, leaning his head against Jungkook's, his eyes closed. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, an offering, a compromise. It's all he can do, give Jungkook the chance to talk if he wants to or to sweep it away, and the helplessness of it hurts so fucking much. When he would give his life to keep Jungkook safe, it doesn't seem fair that there's nothing the world will let him offer to make it go away.