lovestrippedbare | 𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕠

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yoongi

𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕠

These are the moments when no one questions where Jungkook will be for the day — when he wakes up early in the morning, before the sunlight shines fully in the sky, and brings the large picnic basket out of the storage closet. On these mornings, he walks through his house with confidence, no fear of receiving negative looks or words from his stepfather or stepbrother. Few words are usually exchanged at all, save for soft murmurs and the brush of warm hands against his arms, Jungkook's mother often reminding him to bring items she's saved off to the side, offering him extra cash for the long bus ride.

A layer of pears and mandarins rests at the bottom of the basket, carefully wrapped in cloth to prevent bruising. On top, a paper plate with freshly heated mandu, a few holes poked in the plastic wrap to stop them from getting too soggy.

Most of the time, Jungkook brings seasonal flowers, whatever blooms brightest but carries a reasonable price tag — little thoughtful gestures that he can't be sure his father would have specifically appreciated, but that feel better than not making the effort at all. Today, the basket is full to nearly bursting instead with pink lilies, a few of the longer stems peeking out from under the cover.

He heads out of the house alone, smiling at the way the gray of the sky gives way to a soft blue. A few quick taps on his phone later, he's both sent a message to Yoongi and pulled up a playlist for the initial walk, cascading arpeggios setting the tone for the day as Jungkook shuffles quickly to the meeting point.

"You'll like him, right, dad?" he murmurs under his breath, shivering when a gust blows through the street.

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It is, Yoongi thinks, a fairly solemn occasion, but when he spots Jungkook with his basket, he lets out a soft laugh. He's carrying a smaller bundle of pink lilies himself, enough to leave a few for both of their parents. He's not sure if Jungkook's father had a taste for pink or lilies, but he wanted to bring something.

So when he arrives at Jungkook's side, he's smiling. "You look prepared," he says warmly, reaching out to link his arm through Jungkook's. This is a trip he makes much less often than he feels he really should; going alone feels arduous and depressing, but going with his father is taxing in its own right. As personal as a visit to his mother's grave might be, going with Jungkook feels more manageable. Besides, it feels right to meet each other's parents, to see the graves of those who left behind the holes they're struggling with.

"Are you ready?"

This early in the morning, there aren't many people around the stop, and Jungkook easily leans over to press a kiss to Yoongi's cheek as their arms link together. There's an undercurrent of excitement buzzing through his skin; even though Jungkook knows there won't be anything tangible to mark their parents' reactions, he still wants to leave the best impression with both. Still desperately yearns for some sense of approval, to extend the net of safety beyond how he feels in Yoongi's arms.

There won't be anything tangible, but Jungkook hopes that they'll still come away with a certain feeling. Peace with themselves, perhaps.

"I am... somewhat prepared," Jungkook allows with a small chuckle, nodding at the basket hooked on his opposite elbow. "This definitely isn't the first time that I've packed a basket for my dad. We do it most times we come, unless the weather makes it too hard to haul food with us. I think it makes it easier, having food to talk over. It's like having a conversation over a dinner table."

Jungkook slides his arm slightly back, just enough for his hand to briefly squeeze around Yoongi's forearm.

"I'm ready. And excited to meet her," Jungkook says softly.

The thought of that takes Yoongi by surprise. It sounds so nice, gathering together like a family despite the impossible divide. When he and his father come together, their visits are always marked by oppressive silence. Yoongi doesn't expect anything else. To think of these visits as something that could be lighter, easier, is somehow soothing.

So is the kiss to his cheek. Coming to see his mother isn't easy, but it feels so much better with Jungkook at his side. His heart still aches, but it's a different aspect of loss now from most visits. He always misses her so much it hurts, a physical pain in his chest, but today he just wishes desperately she could really meet Jungkook. Maybe she would change her mind if she could; she'd see how happy he is and that would be enough. That's all she ever wanted for him, to be happy.

He gazes at Jungkook, smiling softly, and nods. "I'm ready to meet him, too," he says. "Lead the way." He hopes that, whatever this visit brings, he'll feel some kind of peace from it, something to make him feel their parents approve. "I like that idea. Eating a meal together. It's nice."

Jungkook takes a deep breath when Yoongi asks for him to lead the way. He was expecting it, going to see his dad first. It feels easier for him this way, starting with the parent he's always felt love from, the parent for whom he no longer has any negative memories of. This path is one that he's taken so many times that he can practically do so with his eyes closed; he lets them slide shut now for the first few steps, up the sloping path, wind rustling through the short winter grass.

His pictures his father's face, smiling. All of his relatives have always remarked that Jungkook's smile lines are practically lifted from his father, right down to the scrunch of his nose. Jungkook isn't sure whether or not that's impacted the way that he's chosen to smile over the years, wide and laughing, but he likes the idea of it coming from his father. Likes that there's something physical about himself that he can hold onto, like it gives his father a longer life on this planet.

"I'm told that my dad was a big eater, so he'd probably like to see you eat well too," Jungkook says, lifting his chin almost proudly as they start to climb the steps, the path branching off to either side towards family plots. Jungkook keeps moving onward, some distance yet to go before reaching his dad's. "He liked music a lot, too. Mom says he sang off-key in the shower, which I don't really remember, but I think he used to sing to me a lot when I was really little. I kind of remember it, anyway. The sound of his voice."

Yoongi glances over as they walk, stealing glimpses of Jungkook, the proud set of his chin, the sweet solemnity of his expression. It's hard to listen to him and not wonder which is worse, remembering or forgetting, before he pushes the thought aside. Both of them are devastating. Jungkook has both, memories to work off of and so many years in between him and his father, so much that must have been left behind over the years.

"That sounds really nice," he says. "Him singing to you like that." Even in the old days, when they were a family, Yoongi can barely remember a time when his father sang to him, though surely it must have happened at some point. Everyone sings to infants, at least, right? It's strange, he's found. It's like half of his good memories of his dad died with his mother. The rest linger just to make the present worse.

"My mom always did." He doesn't entirely mean to talk about her, not yet, not when the subject is Jungkook's father, but out it comes all the same. "She liked to sing. Loved music."

"Your mom was probably better with music than my dad," Jungkook murmurs, smiling at the thought. He wonders distantly, if his father were alive, whether or not he would be happy with how well his son's learned the piano, even after having only practiced for a couple of years. He wonders about most of the hobbies he picks up — if perhaps his father would appreciate them more than his mother does now. It isn't that she discourages anything that Jungkook does, but there's always a slight tinge to her expression, a sense Jungkook gets that she can't help but think of viability.

It's hard to let go of anxieties about the future when one's life has been upended more than once.

He shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts for now, brushing locks of hair away from his forehead. "I bet she's listening. Whenever you're at the piano, I bet she's listening, and thinking about how amazing her son is now," Jungkook smiles, giving Yoongi's hand another squeeze, then tugging them off to the side.

Almost there, he thinks to himself, craning his neck to look for a little mound of dirt and grass in the distance.

Yoongi nods, letting himself be led along. "Yeah," he says softly. "I always think she is. I'm always — if I'm not playing for you, I'm playing for her, I think." He's in there, too, of course, but that's a given, he thinks, that all the music is for himself, too. But in his head, so often, there's an audience comprised of the people who matter most to him. His mother would be proud, he thinks. There were times it was tempting to give up music, and sometimes he did, on and off, the memory of her loss too fresh, too painful. He keeps at it, though; the joy outweighs the grief. She would be happy to know he still plays, that he's taken the thing she loved and kept it with him always. Kept her with him.

"But when it's our parents," he says, "I don't know if it matters if they're good. Just that they try." It's enough, he thinks, whether it was off-key or not, that Jungkook's father wanted to sing to him. He can only imagine the man must have loved his son so much, the way Yoongi's mother loved him. The way they'll love their children when they start a family. The effort, he thinks, means infinitely more than the skill behind it. "He must have loved you a lot."

"I was his only kid," Jungkook laughs lightly, his gaze ducking. It's not that he wants to cast doubt on his father — if anything, Jungkook tends to ascribe so much positivity to his father. He clings more tightly to the memory of laughter, of quiet singing, than any of the times he's sure his parents must have fought. When he pictures conversations with his father, imagines him sitting across the table, it's always with a smile and a reassuring nod.

Somehow, all of that optimism has a way of dampening slightly when he's actually in front of the grave. When he's so close that he feels like his father might hear even the softest of whispers. With the grave in front of him, hopes give way to reality, and Jungkook can't help wondering if his father would approve of where he is now.

An okay student. Sometimes plays hooky. Is probably on track to test into university, but probably not to the top tier.

Is in a supportive, loving relationship... with another boy.

"I'm sure he loved me," Jungkook adds quietly, his pace slowing down when they're a few paces away, his gaze lingering on the small alter stone in front of the rounded grave. "I just hope he'd also be proud of me."

Jungkook turns to face Yoongi, giving his hand a squeeze. "Ready?"

Yoongi considers him for a moment, then leans over to kiss his cheek. "He would be," he says, quiet but firm. He can't imagine many reasons why Jungkook's father wouldn't be proud. If anything, the only thing he can think of is them, unsure his father would have approved of Jungkook dating a boy.

It's something he's been turning over a lot lately, thinking about his mother. He knows that she warned him against this kind of thing, but that was different. It must have been. She loved him so much, it's hard to imagine she wouldn't be happy to know he's with someone who loves him just as deeply. Maybe she would tell him to be careful, but he doesn't think she'd stop being proud. He has to hope that Jungkook's father would be the same.

Squeezing Jungkook's hand back, he nods. "Yeah, I'm ready."

It is, he thinks, slightly less daunting than meeting a living parent because he doesn't have to see the reaction, but not by much, knowing how important an introduction this is nonetheless.

The press of a kiss to his cheek is enough to quiet some of Jungkook's nerves. Maybe he isn't living up to his father in all of the ways that he'd like, but maybe Yoongi isn't wrong, either — maybe he's good enough. Maybe it's good enough that his heart is in the right place and that he never stops trying. Maybe it's good enough that Jungkook puts effort and focus into everything he does. That he cares about people. Supports those he loves.

He draws in a slightly shaky breath, then breaks into a wider smile, glancing over at Yoongi and leaning in to press a kiss to Yoongi's cheek.

"I love you," he murmurs, licking his lower lip before gently tugging both of them forward.

"Dad!" Jungkook greets, not quite a yell but loud enough for his voice to echo over the hills. "Your Jungkookie has come to see you again. It's been a lot lately, right? I'm doing even better than mom at keeping you company, right? Ah, maybe that's a sign that I've finally grown up. All I want is to share food with my father."

Jungkook carefully places the basket on the ground, lets go of Yoongi's hand to take the last couple of steps forward, and gets down on his knees in front of the altar stone.

"Dad," he says, hands on his knees as he bows his head. "I brought someone really special with me today to meet you. The most special, actually. The person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I haven't even told mom yet — which means I must really love you, huh?"

He lifts his chin, laughing in an effort to dispel the heat by the corners of his eyes. It's hard and easy all at once, Jungkook thinks. He glances over his shoulder, reaching a hand out for Yoongi.

"His name is Min Yoongi," Jungkook announces.

It should feel a little like playacting, Yoongi thinks, talking to empty air with no one else in sight. It doesn't. Instead, it seems to him deadly serious. Even if Jungkook's dad isn't here to pass judgment in person, his spirit is here to watch over his son. More than that, it matters to Jungkook, which makes it all the more important.

He waits, chest tight, almost shy, until Jungkook reaches for him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the introduction. They've said it many times now, made it clear that this devotion is for life, but to tell a parent that, even a dead one, feels like an important step.

Taking Jungkook's hand and a deep breath, Yoongi steps forward, kneeling down before he lowers himself in a deep bow. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," he says, squeezing Jungkook's hand as he gazes at the altar stone, praying to be heard. "I love your son so much. He means everything to me. I want to spend my life caring for him. And I really hope you would approve, because I would do anything for him."

Watching Yoongi, Jungkook can't help the feeling of tears springing to his eyes. There's so much about this scene that's wrong — his father should be alive, should have been there to watch Jungkook grow up. His father should be alive and here to receive Yoongi, laughter and smiles in the place of where there's only a soft breeze today. He licks his lower lip and does his best to steel his nerves, his heart aching at the sincerity in Yoongi's voice.

"Yah, see dad? Isn't he the best?" Jungkook asks, a laugh catching in his throat as he stares up more towards the sky than at the stone. "Every single word is about how much he wants to take care of me, how much he loves me. Isn't that just the best? You can rest easy. You can rest easy, because he makes me so happy, dad. I don't think I've ever been more happy than when I'm with him."

He takes a deep breath, head swimming slightly. "And he's reliable. He doesn't like to praise himself, but he studies hard, he gets good grades. I know he's going to get into a great university and he works so hard that he'll get a good job for sure. But he's got other things he loves, too. You should listen to him next time, when we're at the piano. He's so good with music."

Yoongi ducks his head, sheepish, hardly able to look at Jungkook. It isn't fair, he thinks. It shouldn't be like this. He should be introducing himself to a living person, to the man who helped raise Jungkook. In a fair world, he would get to; there would be no stepfather, no stepbrother, to torment him, only a man who's loved Jungkook all his life. Jungkook deserves that, not this quiet display of devotion to an empty sky. Yoongi closes his eyes, prays silently that he's really listening.

"You flatter me too much," he murmurs, fond, finally looking over again. Jungkook will never stop saying such nice things, though, no matter how he scolds, and Yoongi can't pretend he actually minds. Words spoken here feel sacred. To know this is what Jungkook wants to tell his father, that he's this happy, means everything.

"But I will," he continues. "I'm going to try, at least, to get into a good school and get a good job. Something that'll let me take care of you like you deserve." He swallows hard, turns his attention back to where he imagines Jungkook's father might be sitting over them if he were here. "I do work hard. I try. And I'll try with everything I am to take care of him. To protect him. To love him my whole life. I would be honored to play the piano for you. We're working on a song we can play together."

"He's too humble, dad," Jungkook snickers, glancing over at Yoongi and caving to the desire to touch him, free hand brushing Yoongi's bangs out of the way, fingertips briefly skirting along the curve of his jaw. It probably wouldn't be all that proper to suddenly kiss him in front of his father's grave, but Jungkook can't help the desire to that bubbles in his chest. Everything about this trip is more emotional than most. There have been times when Jungkook's energy has worn thin, when he pulls all the dregs together to hike to this very spot, admitting stresses to the only person whose life Jungkook feels he doesn't burden.

But this is different than that. All tangled and confused in Jungkook's chest, but warm, so warm.

"Isn't he handsome? From the first time I saw him, I think I was a goner. Mom says you told her the same thing, once," Jungkook says, turning back to his father. To the air that feels just a little charged. "He always puts me first, dad. And you know, I'm a real man — I put him first, too. Or at least I try to. I'm probably not as good about it because I'm so young, but..."

He smiles, ducking his head. "Dad, he makes me look forward to waking up every day. And I don't feel lonely anymore, not when I'm with him. For so many years..." You were gone. You weren't where you were supposed to be. You left a space that I didn't think anyone could ever fill.

"Ah, dad. You've gotta like Yoongi, okay?" Jungkook whispers with a soft sniff. He laughs, smile widening out of instinct, before reaching over towards the basket next to them.

It's strange, Yoongi thinks. This isn't his father, isn't his loss, but still there's a weight on him, though it's warm and sweet somehow. He aches for Jungkook, but he aches with happiness, too, with gratitude, enough that he could nearly cry from it. Someday, he thinks. Someday he'll get such an introduction to Jungkook's mother, too. Someday he'll be able to tell his father how deeply, fervently, eternally in love he is. And maybe his father will turn him out; he expects that. But at least he'll be able to say it. They deserve this, this kind of openness and honesty with the people who matter most.

"You're very good at it," he protests, as Jungkook reaches for the basket. "I'd be lost without you. He takes such good care of me. I — when I'm sad, when I'm hurt, he pulls me back. He makes me whole. He's better at it than he realizes." Better at it, Yoongi thinks then, than he tells him. "Even before we started dating, knowing I would see him... Sometimes that pulled me through the day. Just the chance to be near him. Your son deserves everything I can give him and more, deserves the world, and I hope you'll approve if I try to give it to him."

He glance over at Jungkook, faintly nervous, heart hammering in his chest, anticipation heavy in his limbs, as if he might hear or feel an answer at any moment. Like he might receive a blessing if he listens, if he's open to it.

Jungkook's ears start to burn as Yoongi describes the ways in which Jungkook helps him. It's a lot to take in — maybe not entirely a surprise, but the depth of it still leaves Jungkook feeling awestruck. He bites his lip at the thought that he might have helped Yoongi pull through tough days, even before they knew they loved each other in this way, wholly and without reserve. It makes his heart ache, realizing how much of a mirror they both were to one another.

There were definitely days when all Jungkook wanted was to sit in the classroom and listen to Yoongi play the piano.

He fiddles briefly with the basket, pulling it over to his lap, but a glance in Yoongi's direction has Jungkook staring for a few seconds longer, unspoken gratitude in his eyes. Whether or not Jungkook really deserves the world, he can't say. But with Yoongi in his life, Jungkook feels like he basically has it already.

"Yoongi's all I want, dad," Jungkook says, holding Yoongi's gaze for a second longer before he finally turns back to the basket, opening the lid and starting to rummage around for the food. "But don't worry, I'm not going to forget you. I brought mandu, mom's mandu. And mandarins and pears. I'm sure you'd want to share some with us, so I made sure to bring lots, so that you don't have to go hungry up there."

Jungkook pulls a smaller paper plate out of the basket, then a pair of chopsticks, quickly grabbing half a dozen mandu from the large plate — three each, it should be enough, Jungkook's never as hungry as he should be for these visits. The rest, he carefully lays in front of the altar, leaving an additional pair of chopsticks across the plate before passing his own over to Yoongi.

"Elder first," Jungkook grins.

It would be, Yoongi feels certain, entirely inappropriate if he were to lean across and kiss Jungkook now. This isn't the time or place for such gestures, even if they're intended to be entirely chaste. He settles for pressing a kiss to his cheek instead as he takes the chopsticks. It's not much, but it's something, a small token of gratitude that comes nowhere near showing how full his heart is. Before they started dating, it's not just that Yoongi thought it would never happen; he'd started to think maybe he would just be alone in general. Too afraid ever to be out, too broken to be wanted. He never imagined this, that the boy he loves with all his heart could want nothing but him. It's almost too perfect, nearly unbearable, as if something so good must also be fragile. Yet it isn't. It's the strongest thing Yoongi knows.

"So polite in front of your father," he teases. "I see how it is." Lifting one of the mandu from the plate, he cradles a hand underneath so it won't drop to the grass if his hand slips, and takes a bite. "Oh, wow." It isn't hot anymore, but it's still fresh, still delicious, and Yoongi's heart aches a little, partly because everything about this visit feels kind of raw, partly because he hasn't had homemade anything in a long time that didn't come from Jin's kitchen or their own fumbling attempts. "That's really good." Faint embarrassment floods him as he thinks to add, this time to the grave, "Thank you for sharing with me."

A kiss to the cheek is entirely chaste by their standards, but Jungkook finds his face flooding over with warmth regardless, pleased and slightly surprised by the gesture. Maybe he shouldn't be so afraid of showing affection in front of his father — if he's to really believe that his father's watching over them, then there's probably a whole lot more that he's been privy to. Jungkook can't help the slight laugh that falls from his lips, though he forces himself to meet Yoongi's gaze for an extended moment, a way of showing that he welcomes the affection.

That he's glad to show some of it to his dad.

"Yah, are you suggesting to my father that I'm not polite most of the time?" Jungkook laughs, his expression immediately softening at the look on Yoongi's face as he takes a bite of the mandu. There's a mix of emotions there, and while Jungkook knows he's probably not quite intuitive enough to disentangle all of them, there's a soft ache in his chest as he wonders whether or not Yoongi's mom would have made meals like these, too.

And an ache as he wonders when he'll be able to invite Yoongi over to his house for a proper meal. Soon, he thinks. Even if he can't tell his mom yet about their relationship, soon.

"He likes mom's cooking, that's a good sign too, right?" Jungkook asks his dad, quickly shifting to pile the pieces of fruit next to the mandu, contemplating the set before deciding on a pyramid formation.

Yoongi smiles, almost shy, his head bowing. The look on Jungkook's face at that small kiss is enough to make him want to do it again, but he refrains. If Jungkook's father were right in front of them, visible and tangible, he's not sure he would have been so bold. Without that presence, though, he feels free to imagine, to hope, that there would be approval. That his love for Jungkook would be enough to melt away any reservations his father might have had. It is, Yoongi thinks, the best thing about himself, this love; it pushes him forward, makes him want to do and be better. He has to hope Mr. Jeon can see that about him.

"I'm not suggesting, I'm saying," he teases. "No, you're very good. Most of the time." Jungkook is usually so thoughtful and good to his elders, but they're still just kids. Of course he's going to get out of line now and then. They're all friends. Yoongi doesn't see anything wrong with it. He watches as Jungkook assembles the plate, everything neatly laid out with a practiced ease. How many visits has he made here alone? It's unfair, Yoongi thinks, that they've been deprived of the people who loved them.

"Besides, everyone seems to like your mom's cooking," he adds. "Does it speak that highly of me if she's just a good cook?"

Jungkook can't help but chuckle a little at Yoongi's words. In all honesty, he probably isn't the best at following all the customs when it comes to his hyungs — he has a tendency to fall back into casual speech far too much, and he doesn't pick up nearly enough chores to merit how many times he's been treated to dinner. But Yoongi's never been the type to care about the arbitrary rules, Jungkook thinks. Yoongi's able to focus on the important part — the affection that Jungkook has for all of his hyungs.

Jungkook's very good about that, most of the time.

"Mm... it still means you have good taste. And that you know to appreciate good things when they're given to you," Jungkook points out, his gaze skirting slightly at the thought of his hyung back home, how Yeongwook never bothers thanking his mother for her effort, or complimenting the dishes themselves. Jungkook can't help but wonder if his father sees that, too.

Or the blows that his son's forced to endure.

"Here, have another," he says, pulling his thoughts away by picking up another mandu and holding it out for Yoongi to eat.

Yoongi nods, thoughtful. He can agree to that, at least. When he's lucky enough to receive something good in his life, he cherishes it, from delicious food to the love of his life. Enough bad has happened in his life; he won't let the good go by without being grateful for it. It's why he tells Jungkook so often that he loves him. It's the excitement of everything being new, yes, but it's also that, a desire not to let good fortune go unremarked. To make it clear he knows just how lucky he is, that this is something he won't ever take for granted.

Leaning over, he bites into the mandu, grinning. Once he's swallowed, he reaches over to rest his hand on Jungkook's arm. "I can't actually argue with either of those," he says. "My taste is impeccable and I'm very appreciative." He has to wonder when he'll get his chance to come over for dinner, but it's not something he's going to push, in no small part because he's not sure he's ready anyway. Keeping his distance, maintaining a straight face instead of doting on Jungkook, it won't be easy. The idea of it reminds him a little of how he used to worry Jungkook would feel if he knew the truth of Yoongi's affections, that he would see their lessons as something conducted under false pretenses; now he wonders if Jungkook's mother would feel that way if she knew about their being together.

For now, though, he reminds himself, he only has one parent to impress.

"Your taste has to be impeccable if you chose me," Jungkook agrees with a cheeky grin, quickly placing the chopsticks down on their plate before laying his hand on top of Yoongi's and giving it a slight squeeze. It's nice, Jungkook finds, that not everything about this conversation has to feel heavy. Nice that there are certain parts of this conversation that are simply easier to have, as much as he would rather have his father physically there.

These days, though, Jungkook finds it easier not to steep in regrets. Because for all that he wishes his father were alive, life as it's been until now is also what brought him to Yoongi's side. Moving in to his stepfather's house, changing school districts — without that, Jungkook might never have found Yoongi at all.

Which strikes him with another thought.

"Maybe my dad's laughing up there," Jungkook muses softly, "because he had a hand in helping me find you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Did he?" Yoongi asks, curious. He's not sure how that would be the case, but it makes him smile to consider. Maybe in some way, that's like a blessing of their relationship. As wistful as he might feel about meeting Jungkook's father like this, too, he doesn't feel bad exactly. If Mr. Jeon disapproves, Yoongi can't tell, and that's enough for now.

"That would be nice." He reaches for the chopsticks, lifting another mandu up for Jungkook. "I want him to like me. Laughter would be a good sign, I think."

It wouldn't be disapproval, at least, which is a start. Yoongi doesn't really expect any of their parents to be happy about this, but maybe being dead gives people a better perspective, makes them realize that, when life is so short, love is important no matter where it comes from.

"I feel like..." Jungkook pauses, opening his mouth to take the mandu and chewing thoughtfully, buying himself a little more time to gather his thoughts. He takes the time to savor the mandu filling, the carefully minced vegetables that lend a more varied texture to the food.

No matter how busy she might otherwise be, Jungkook knows his mom will always put everything down to make sure there's some good food Jungkook can take to his father.

Somehow, coming here is always a reminder to Jungkook of how blessed he really is.

"Mm," he hums, swallowing the bite. "I feel like... after my dad passed away, that period was the hardest my mom and I ever knew. But then, one day, things started getting better. And they've never — they've never stopped getting better since, you know? There are hardships, but overall I'm. I'm so happy now. And I like imagining that it's because he's looking out for me."

Yoongi considers that, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. He could argue if he wanted, protest that Jungkook's life is still far from easy or peaceful, but this isn't the time or place. Besides, if Jungkook is happy anyway, that's the only thing that really matters.

For himself, it's seemed for so long like things would never get better. Like he'd be stuck in this abyss, alone, forever, plunged into darkness in his mother's absence. But bit by bit, things are changing. Maybe that's her doing, too.

He smiles. "Imagine them up there," he says, "playing matchmaker. Maybe they approve more than we know." Maybe their happiness is all that matters to their parents, too. Maybe death washes away those prejudices and fears that held them back on earth.

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