Yoongi can feel his own heart speed up in turn, struck by how sweet Jungkook looks like this, face half-hidden, such fondness in what remains visible. He traces his fingertips down Jungkook's neck, palm skating downward to rest over his heart, to feel for it thudding there beneath.

"Wouldn't matter if I did," he says. "I don't want to look at anyone else anyway." There have been a couple of occasions when he's caught someone's attention, he knows, but there's never been anything serious or long-lived to occupy himself with, never anything more than passing flirtations. He's always been too busy or, simply, not that interested. He imagines the same would be true if anyone showed interest in him now; he simply wouldn't be interested. Who could even begin to compare to Jungkook anyway?

"Besides," he adds, "then they'd look over and see you and understand."