lovestrippedbare | 𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕠

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a moment when Jungkook laughs, and he feels like he can almost hear his own father's voice behind it. It's still hard to really picture how his father would have felt, knowing his only son and only child is in love with someone of the same gender. That his only child will never have the perfect, normal life that most parents wish for their kids. It's hard to know whether or not there'd be acceptance, or if Jungkook would have run into the same challenges that so many queer kids do with their parents, where queer boys specifically almost feel like an affront to their fathers, a hit on their own sense of masculinity.

He can't know. He'll never know. But maybe it's enough that he can imagine it, and that he can remember the happiness of this moment and bottle it up. Focus on making sure that the mother he still has will come around and realize just how happy and fulfilled her son feels now.

"I'm glad you think this was a good idea," Jungkook murmurs, leaning into the touch of Yoongi's fingers before turning his head and pressing a kiss to them. "And yeah. This... this means a lot to me, too. It feels right, us being here together."

Despite the sprawling vastness of the cemetery, the day feels quiet, the two of them isolated from the rest of the world — freed from it. Yoongi smiles at the gentle brush of Jungkook's lips and nods. "That's got to be a good sign," he says. "That it feels right." He wants so badly to feel they would approve, knowing how much Jungkook's dad means to him, knowing how much his mother loved him. At the end of the day, if this is what makes them happy, that must be enough. It is, at least, for him.

"I wish," he adds, slowly feeling out his words, "that they were still here. That I could see your father and get his blessing. But... I love you. As you are. And I know he would be proud of you, too. Of who you've become without him. Like I am." His thumb traces over the fullness of Jungkook's lower lip, gentle. He can't know, not really, what a man he's never met would think, but he can imagine. The good, kind father Jungkook loves, however distant his memory, must have been a good man. How could such a man have a son like Jungkook and not be proud?

He smiles, wry but fond. "Bad grades and all."

As Yoongi speaks, Jungkook's gaze skirts over the rolling hills, the mounds that cover and protect the loved ones who have passed to the next world. If he keeps his gaze slightly unfocused, Jungkook can almost imagine what it'd be like to see a man walk around them, to see the father whose features he's memorized so well from photos. Can easily imagine a woman with a gentle expression, features so similar to Yoongi's own, approaching with a smile.

He wishes that they were here. But maybe it's enough that both of them can still feel the love of their late parents, no matter how far they've gone.

He has a thought on the tip of his tongue, something about how he hopes to grow into those shoes, those broad shoulders he remembers of his father's, when Yoongi's last words finally catch up with Jungkook. He turns, eyes wide, lips parting in offense.

"Yah!" he laughs, nudging Yoongi with his elbow. "Just because not all of us can be like, in the top ten percent of our class, doesn't mean that our grades are bad. You take that back!"

Yoongi laughs, bright and satisfied, and it feels good to stand here and do so, to share this part of himself with his mother again. It occurs to him all at once that she must have missed this — his laughter, his smile. He so rarely shows her those things when he comes to visit her here. With Jungkook at his side, though, he feels more relaxed than he has here in a long time.

"I take it back," he says, grinning. "Average grades and all. Did you miss the part where I'm proud of you?"

Because he is. Maybe it's strange, now that they're dating, for him to think on how young Jungkook was when they met, but he's grown so much, and not just physically. He seems more confident now, coming into his own in every way. He's not just the scrawny kid who used to follow them around. Yoongi hopes his mother can see it, how strong and brave and sweet and funny his boyfriend is, how lucky Yoongi is to have found such a love.

Jungkook wrinkles his nose, pouting in Yoongi's direction. It's only the presence of the grave marker that stops him from stamping against the ground in some type of exaggerated, childish tantrum. Truthfully, his grades are a bit of a sore point — one of the more concrete ways that his father can point to his shortcomings, and one of his greatest worries for getting into the same university as Yoongi. Excelling in the arts, in physical education can only take Jungkook so far.

Thankfully, he thinks to himself, he's made improvements since they started dating. For all the additional distractions that Yoongi poses, he's also just a good tutor.

"You shouldn't have to be proud of mediocrity," Jungkook complains with a sigh, puffing his cheeks out briefly. "But at least I'm getting better, right? I'll study harder. I've got good reasons to, now."

"You already study hard," Yoongi says. In schoolwork, like piano, he knows Jungkook can do well if he sets his mind to it. He may have more of a talent for music than he does for math, but he's not stupid. It's just a matter of holding his focus for long enough for the information to sink in. As much as Yoongi has to fight not to get distracted during their study sessions, he's determined to be a good tutor and provide real help, and he thinks he's seeing results.

"And you are getting better." He lifts his hands to cup Jungkook's cheeks, leaning in to kiss him, first on the tip of his nose, then on the lips. "You're anything but mediocre. And you don't have to be top of your class for me to be proud of my boyfriend." His mom would understand anyway, he thinks. When he was younger, he knows, he didn't work nearly as hard as he does now. He's fought his way up the ranks in his class. Before, he used to spend even more time on his music. If he can make that kind of a change, so can Jungkook.

Even through Yoongi's reassurances and kisses, Jungkook finds his ears still burning. It's not such a bad thing, though. If there's anything that tends to be a motivator for Jungkook, it's a challenge — it's having a reason to try and master a class, a craft, a skill. The embarrassment over having Yoongi be proud of what little Jungkook's achieved academically is enough to push him to work harder. He can afford to pull back on the more frivolous things — put his art on the side for now and focus instead on what's necessary to make sure the doors to their future won't close.

"I'll make even more reasons for you to be proud. And your mother. And my father," Jungkook promises, his brows raising imploringly. "I know that I can't promise to be the top of my class because I'm not... you know, I'm not Namjoonie hyung, but. I'll work hard so that I can help secure a future for us. Because that's all I want, Yoongi-ah."

He leans back in, chasing after another kiss. A softer, longer one, this time.

Yoongi makes a small, pleased sound as he leans into the kiss, a hand sliding into Jungkook's hair. A graveyard should be the wrong place for this, but Yoongi doesn't care. There's something romantic about it — like they're the only spark of life, vivid and burning bright, in the middle of all this death. Unlike everyone else here, they have their whole future ahead of them, and the thought of it warms Yoongi.

He leans his forehead against Jungkook's, sighing. "That's all I want, too," he says quietly. "And I know you will. We'll both work hard and... I dream about it, you know. I think all the time about our life together." The both of them will work hard, he knows, to earn everything they've imagined, a whole life unfolding before them. Of course their parents will be proud. He has to believe that.

Jungkook wonders distantly how different the images are that either of them conjure up in their minds. Things like this aren't so easily shared, though Jungkook wishes that they were — he wants to see all the little things that Yoongi cares about in his dreams, all the things Yoongi yearns for, so that he can better work towards providing them himself. For Jungkook, the image is relatively blurry. A space of their own, a piano somewhere. Yoongi himself in full detail, smiling contentedly, hair a deep shade of brown or black.

The specifics never matter as much as having Yoongi himself.

"Me, too," Jungkook murmurs. "I mean, in some ways, it's already started, right? Even if we're not living together yet. This is all part of our story, too." He raises a hand, thumb gently stroking across Yoongi's cheek, feeling the curve of his smile.

Yoongi closes his eyes and breathes in, head leaning into the touch. The world smells of cold and lilies and Jungkook, and he's not sure he's ever felt genuinely happy standing here, his heart bright with it. Mom, he thinks, you see? I'll be okay.

"It's a good story," he says softly. "Every part of it." The lovesick days of not knowing, the fumbling confessions, the last month and a half of intimate discovery, learning everything he can about Jungkook, marveling at how much more there is left to learn, all of it is perfect. He can only imagine that the way the next chapters unfold will be as good or better. There are parts he'd re-write if he could, if it could bring their parents to them, but it's still a good story.

"Even if this is an unusual way to meet our parents."

Edited 2019-02-20 05:02 (UTC)

"My favorite story," Jungkook agrees. Someday, he'll find a way to commit it all to paper — in the same way that he imagines Yoongi may commit it to music. As tough as some of the journey was at the time, Jungkook knows now that he wouldn't change a moment of it. He wouldn't trade all the time he had in falling in love with Yoongi, even the months where the yearning felt like it could practically suffocate him, because the time also had a way of strengthening Jungkook's resolve. Had a way of really letting Jungkook lean back and decide for himself whether or not he wanted to continue loving this person.

And the answer to that is always going to be yes, no matter what else changes in the world.

"This might not be the ideal way to meet our parents, but... I don't know," Jungkook murmurs, glancing over at the grave marker again. "It was nice, too. I think they were really here. Somehow."

Yoongi nods. "They were," he says. He feels so much calmer now than he did when they first arrived — the jitters over meeting Jungkook's father subsided, the pain of facing his mother eased. They must have been here. Maybe they still are. If so, he thinks, the sight of the two of them holding each other must be reassuring to any loving parent. He's not naive; the road ahead of them won't always be easy. They face public censure if they aren't careful and their own crippling demons, but still, so what? They have each other to get through it all. The love they share must be writ across their faces for their parents to see, and to know that, whatever happens, they'll have each other to lean on.

"Maybe it's just wishful thinking," he says, "but I do think she approves. It feels right, doesn't it?" Here, where he's so often felt turmoil and grief, there's a peace settling into him, bone-deep, a quiet feeling that they've done well. Telling their living parents won't be as easy. He still feels like a coward every time he thinks of it, knowing he intends to keep this from his father until he's ready to leave for university, though he also knows it's the smart thing to do. All of that can wait, though. Right now, there's just this, the two of them alone and also not, surrounded by what he feels must be their parents' blessings.

Jungkook's gaze skirts over in the direction of his father's grave, though it isn't visible from where they stand now. He's never shied away from coming to the cemetery, finding it comforting somehow to acknowledge his father's passing, and to be in a place where he still feels somewhat tangible. His father's belongings themselves have long since been packed away, no real trace of him in the house beyond a few pictures that are brought out when they need to erect a makeshift altar. Part of it, Jungkook assumes, is the fact that his mother's moved on with a new partner. Letting the ghost of her late husband remain would be uncomfortable at best for Jungkook's stepfather and stepbrother alike, and Jungkook doesn't begrudge the fact that his mother optimizes for their comfort.

But it makes visits here all the more important and necessary for Jungkook, and sharing that with Yoongi feels right. Like he's finally opening a part of his life that he's shown so few others.

"It feels right," Jungkook nods, his eyes bright as he turns back to face Yoongi. "I feel like dad would be happy for me, too. He... I don't think he's ever seen me this happy, so." Jungkook grins, leaning forward to press another kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "That's all you."

Yoongi closes his eyes, letting himself simply feel the soft press of lips to his skin, and the way his heart, already so full, seems to spill over at that, as if his heart is a blossoming flower, opening outwards to let in more light. He's spent so much of his time since losing his mother feeling hopeless and bereft. Happiness, real and true and thorough, is so fleeting, so rare. To be able to give it to anyone would be a precious gift. Bringing it to Jungkook is everything.

"I haven't," he says, faltering, though he thinks the confession is probably an obvious one. "I haven't been this happy since she died. Sometimes it feels like I don't know how to be. And then there's you..." He leans his head forward, temples pressed together as he takes a deep breath. It isn't just about being loved, though, fuck, he hasn't felt this loved since his mother passed either. Maybe never. It's the way loving Jungkook and being loved in return makes him feel like maybe he does deserve to be happy. Like things will be okay. "If I play even a small role in making you happy," he murmurs, "then I know I'm doing something right."

Perhaps the words should scare Jungkook, if he thinks about them too much. If he lets himself notice the fact that Yoongi's words suggest that so much of his happiness centers around making sure that Jungkook is happy. There's a part of Jungkook's heart that aches at the thought that Yoongi's happiness was so hard to obtain on his own, that none of the dark gazes and distant looks were imagined — that there's a part of Yoongi that has been suffering for years, and perhaps continues to suffer still. What Jungkook wants, potentially even more than what they have together, is for that happiness to become inherent in Yoongi's being once more.

Yet Jungkook also knows that so much of what Yoongi shares can be applied to himself. That there are days when Jungkook can't seem to find the bright side to anything until he sees the smile on Yoongi's face, the happiness with which Yoongi greets him, and suddenly everything else is thrown to the background.

Perhaps neither of them are as healed as they should aim to be in time, but for now, having each other is more than enough.

"You're the person who makes me the happiest, Min-ah. Even before us, just sitting by your side, playing piano together... it made me so happy. Being with you makes me feel complete," Jungkook says softly, nudging his nose gently against the baby fine hair by Yoongi's temple.

If he'd been asked a couple months ago, Yoongi knows, he probably would have scoffed at such a notion -- both at the idea that he could give Jungkook anything and at anyone needing someone else to complete them. Now he sees the truth of it. Whatever he's thought of himself in the past, he is good for Jungkook, just as Jungkook is for him. And while there are still parts of him that are bruised and broken, they don't feel quite so empty anymore.

"Good," he murmurs. From the beginning, he thinks, there's been something special about Jungkook. Maybe at first it was friendship alone, but it was still there, a connection he's cherished for so long he hardly remembers how it began. "I want that for you. For both of us." It's what their parents would want, too. He's sure of that. Whatever form that completion takes, they deserve to feel whole, all the tiny fractures fading into nothing.

There's little that Jungkook imagines he could say to top the sentiment, so he leans in instead, a little bolder than before as he seeks out a kiss against Yoongi's lips. He tilts his head for better access, one hand tracing down Yoongi's cheek, skirting around the back of his neck, while the other gently wraps around his waist. Maybe this is a little different than how a meeting would be in front of living parents; maybe this kind of kiss would be reserved for the altar, two of them exchanging vows. But, as far as Jungkook's concerned, he's as promised to Yoongi now as he will be then.

And if anyone would understand, it's the parents who have already crossed beyond life. The parents who already have that all-knowing perspective.

They won't judge, Jungkook thinks. They must be happy.

He's willing to believe that.

"I love you," he murmurs as he pulls away, nose bumping against nose as they share breath. "Should we head back?"

Even on the better days, when he comes just to tell his mom what he's been up to, Yoongi is hard-pressed to find any kind of peace here. With Jungkook holding onto him, though, this place doesn't seem quite so dire. The injustices weigh just a little less. Maybe, he thinks, that's all they can really ask for when it comes to their parents — just a little more peace, a little less pain.

"I love you," he echoes, and nods. "Yeah, I think we should."

For today, at least, he thinks he's told his mother the only important things that have changed since his last visit. In the end, this was much less nerve-racking than he imagines it will be someday when Jungkook's mother finds out. Sweet as she may be, she's alive, and that comes with a certain extra brand of terror, it turns out. Right now, though, Yoongi pushes thoughts of that aside. The future will come when it comes. However much they like to daydream about it, he's happy to be right where and when he is.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕠

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject