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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Jungkook finds himself lost in his thoughts as they start to make their way over to Yoongi's mother. He's never been particularly good with prepared speeches, so he's tried not to think too hard about what things he specifically wants to say, for fear of beating himself up about it if he doesn't get everything out. But he can't help but think about it now — all the things that he wants Yoongi's mother to know. How Yoongi is the center of his world. How Jungkook plans on making every effort possible to keep Yoongi happy.

How some days, Jungkook isn't sure where he'd be if it weren't for Yoongi.

The kiss to his cheek is what finally pulls Jungkook out of his thoughts, blinking in surprise before relaxing into a smile, tugging on Yoongi's hand until the both of them come to a stop.

"I'm glad we did it too," Jungkook says quietly. "I'm really glad you got to meet my dad." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Yoongi's lips, still slightly peppery from the earlier mandu. Pressing their foreheads together for a few seconds, Jungkook listens to the wind that passes by the both of them. "And I'm really glad we're going to see your mom."

The kiss is brief, but reassuring, and Yoongi smiles, quietly grateful. He would never wish this kind of understanding on anyone, let alone someone he loves this much, but it helps, knowing Jungkook gets how hard it is to lose a parent. "Me too," he says, free hand coming up to rest against Jungkook's neck, skin chill in the winter wind.

"She used to worry about me," he admits. "When I was a kid and I... I wasn't just interested in the girls the way she expected. Thought I might get hurt." He doesn't have to explain to Jungkook, of all people, how incredibly dangerous it can be to be queer. His mother had good reason to be protective. She only ever wanted him to be okay. "But I was too little then, you know? I didn't know to hide it. And it never meant anything serious. This is..." He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. "This is everything. And I know she'd like you."

The same mother who would help him with his homework or steal him away from it to play for a while, who only ever wanted him to succeed so he could be safe and happy — she would never ask him to give up that which makes him happiest and most whole. He has to believe she would understand this. That she would be happy for him.

Jungkook listens intently as Yoongi explains the worry his mother had for him in the past. It's certainly not hard to imagine. Even without knowing what it's like to be a parent, Jungkook thinks that he would worry too — even worries now for the both of them, with all the strength and resolve he knows they have. It's still dangerous to be queer in this country, and the progress towards understanding feels all too slow.

"If she was just worried about you getting hurt... that seems like she'd probably understand," Jungkook says quietly, his chest twisting with the thought that he has nothing even remotely as tangible to really know what his parents would have wanted for him. "I guess I never had any talks like that. When I was little, sure, I liked both girls and boys, but it wasn't — it wasn't hard for me to believe that girls were for marrying and boys were for being best friends. And once I was older, I became pretty private."

Jungkook ducks his head, a flicker of something between embarrassment and disappointment crossing over his features, cheeks warm and flushed.

"I guess I'm pretty straight-passing, huh?" Jungkook asks, his brow furrowed.

Yoongi lets out a soft laugh, tugging gently at Jungkook's arm. "You thought I was straight," he points out. "It's not a bad thing to be." It's safe. As much as he'd like to be able to shout his love from the rooftops, he still considers himself a private person. It's Jungkook he wants to share; his sexuality never seemed like anyone else's concern. They're lucky they can pass, as long as they're careful, even if it feels like a curse to need to.

Someday, he tells himself. Things will change or they'll go somewhere they've changed already. Someday they'll stand on a city street, the crowd passing by as he kisses Jungkook, and no one will care.

"I think she thought I'd grow out of it," he admits. "That I just didn't know better yet. But she mostly just wanted me to be safe." And this, what he is, what he has with Jungkook, feels safer than anything else he's ever known.

"Hmm, I guess that's true," Jungkook grins, taking a step forward when Yoongi tugs at his arm. Even with everything they shared, Jungkook wouldn't say that there's anything about Yoongi specifically that reads as queer — and maybe that's part of the important lesson anyway, that these parts of one's identity aren't in any way molded into the skin. It's all a matter of how much people want to express themselves, how explicit they want to be.

Because queer doesn't look one way or the other. Doesn't act one way or the other. It's such a simple and obvious fact now, even if it didn't always feel that way to Jungkook before.

He tilts his head, listening to Yoongi muse about his mother. "I think that's one of the things I'm afraid my mom will say, too. That it's just... some kind of phase and I'm being rebellious or whatever. I wish I could know how to make sure she understands," Jungkook says softly, squeezing Yoongi's hand. "Maybe it'll be easier for your mom to see it. And hopefully she'll know that I plan on keeping you safe, with everything I've got."

Yoongi nods, lingering a moment just to look at Jungkook, to draw strength from his hope. He believes it, he does, but it still helps to have someone else say it. "She'll understand," he says. Starting up the path again, he shrugs. "Maybe I'm just being optimistic, but I think she would have come around as long as she knew I was safe." His father he's much less certain about. Given how little his father seems to care, it seems to Yoongi doubtful that his opinion has changed any or that it's contingent on Yoongi's safety or happiness.

"Your mom loves you," he adds. It's clear she's the only light in that household and that Jungkook adores her. "She'll get it eventually. I bet it's the same with her. She just wants you to be safe." It's one thing Yoongi knows they'll agree on, how badly they want Jungkook to be safe and happy.

The fear doesn't entirely melt away with Yoongi's reassurances. Jungkook knows himself well enough to know that it can't, even if that too makes him feel slightly guilty — maybe the thought did start in a place of self-defense, but it's all too easy for him to imagine his mother not being able to accept that part of Jungkook's identity, no matter how much she loves him. For her to want to stamp it out somehow, like she might be able to carve away all the parts of her son that don't quite fit or work.

Maybe Jungkook isn't being fair to her. But he's long since learned how dangerous it can be to hope.

"Well, there's no place where I feel safer than with you," Jungkook says quietly, squeezing Yoongi's hand. If all else fails, he thinks, they'll escape together. They'll have a place that's all their own.

It'll happen.

"C'mon. I don't want to keep your mom waiting too long," Jungkook smiles, ducking his head.

Yoongi smiles, though it's a little wistful. Even in the best moments, he can't help it if thoughts of his mother are softened with a kind of melancholy; the brightest memories are a little dimmer, tinged with regret.

"You see?" he says, leading the way down the path. "If she understands that... if I can make her see I'll keep you safe... maybe she'll come around." He doesn't dare hope that Jungkook's mother will simply accept them. Such understanding is difficult enough to expect even among their changing generation; he assumes its absence entirely from their parents. It feels safer that way. But if he could just show her how much he loves Jungkook, how willing he is to do whatever he has to to make sure they're protected and happy together — if she loves Jungkook as much as she seems to, maybe that will be enough. "I mean, we want the same thing."

I hope so, Jungkook thinks to himself. I hope so. I really, really hope so.

There's a certain realism in Yoongi's words even now. Even as he offers Jungkook reassurances, there's a certain softness in the tone that gives Yoongi away. Not quite hesitation, Jungkook thinks, but instead a softly protective tone, one that tries to build up courage but thicken skin at the same time. If Jungkook's mom doesn't come around, they still want the same thing. They'll still be okay.

And Jungkook has to believe that eventually, eventually his mother will understand, even if shock makes it hard to at first.

"You'll probably win her over with how responsible you are," Jungkook muses with a small smile. "And how lovely the piano sounds under your fingers."

Yoongi huffs, glancing over at him. It seems doubtful that his skill with the piano would be enough to persuade anyone that their prejudices are wrong. It's a sweet thing to say, though. "I don't know about the piano," he says wryly, "but we'll see."

Not now and maybe not soon, he thinks. But eventually. When they're ready, when Jungkook feels safe enough. He's not in any hurry. They have a lifetime ahead of them.

He steers them to the right, making his way around other markers, to stop finally in front of his mother's. "Here we are," he says. For a moment, he lingers, arm still in Jungkook's, before he pulls away. Kneeling down, he lays out the rest of the lilies atop the grave. "Hi," he says softly. "Sorry it's been so long, Mom. I'll try to visit more often. But I brought a visitor today. This is Jungkook. My boyfriend." He hesitates, reaching out, fingers tracing over cold stone. "I know that worries you, but we're careful. I promise, we're so careful, and you'll like him. He's so sweet and creative and good, and he loves me so much. He makes me happy. And you know I haven't been very happy in a long time."

Please, please, please understand.

When Yoongi pulls away from Jungkook, he feels a little empty with the sudden absence, his hands clumsily fumbling for something to do. He could reach into his basket for the flowers that he hopes aren't too crushed, but there's also a part of him that's firmly rooted in place as soon as Yoongi speaks, his heart lurching with the tone of Yoongi's voice. Soft, slightly tight. So full of love.

It's unfair that she isn't here. It's unfair that she got to see so much of Yoongi's potential, but didn't live long enough to see it come to fruition. Jungkook feels his eyes heat over, perhaps even more than they did when he stood in front of his father, and takes a shallow breath. He feels dizzy.

His heart aches, hearing Yoongi admit to not having been happy for a long time.

As soon as Yoongi comes to a pause, Jungkook carefully lowers the basket, fumbling with the lid and emerging with the full bouquet of flowers. They're a little deeper in color than the ones Yoongi brought, but still beautiful, Jungkook thinks.

"H-hello, mother," he stammers, carefully placing the flowers in front of the marker before lowering himself to his knees, then down further until his forehead touches the back of his hands. "My name is Jeon Jungkook, and it's an honor to meet you. I'm dating your son — I'm a couple of years lower than him in high school, so I'm still finding my way and deciding what I want to study, but I really like working with my hands and I really like being creative. But, um. Honestly, these days I just think about what I can study that can provide for us — for Yoongi hyung and myself. Because I really, really love your son and I want to do everything that I can to make sure he lives a happy life."

He glances up at the marker, eyes lingering on the name. "I know you might be worried, because the world... it's not a very accepting place yet, at least not here. But I hope you won't be too worried, mother. We're being careful and we're so much happier when we're together. And we're both working so hard to make sure we can have a future where we're both safe and happy. I promise, I promise that we won't let you down." His lips widen into a tentative smile. "And I wanted to thank you for bringing Yoongi hyung into this world. He's... amazing. But you already knew that, right? He's the best person I've ever met."

It's not fucking fair. It's not fair that she isn't here and it's not fair that she'll never know Jungkook. It isn't right that Yoongi's world is separated into two lifetimes, the one with his mother and the one with Jungkook. She would have changed her mind. He knows it. No way she could have seen how happy Jungkook makes him and wanted anything but for them to have a life together.

He listens to Jungkook speak and he can't even look at him, watches him from his peripheral vision, cheeks heating, eyes starting to burn. Maybe he would have been like this with her, too, weak and afraid and always hurting, but she would have been here. Or maybe he would be stronger and braver and kinder for having had her all his life. And he'll never know.

It's been years, and it still hurts.

"Yah, only because you can't meet yourself," he says, more gruff than he intends to be, if only because it feels like his only other option is to break down completely. Sometimes he can almost feel her here, but it only makes him miss her more. He sniffs, blinking hard. "He's too modest, Mom. He's everything to me. I'm teaching him how to play, too. He's good at it. You'd like him."

"I meet myself in the mirror every day," Jungkook counters quietly, watching the way Yoongi's expression turns just a little stiff and hearing his subtle sniffing. All that Jungkook can do for now is take Yoongi's hand, to run his thumb against the line of of Yoongi's palm and try to offer some physical comfort. "And I know that you're still the best person. The most talented... the most beautiful."

This meeting feels different than the one with his father. For Jungkook, his father is such a distant memory that he's almost more concept than truth. In some ways, it's probably a blessing in disguise, Jungkook thinks. He can only imagine it hurting more if he had a stronger memory of everything that he's missing out on, everything that he no longer gets to have.

Maybe it's merciful in its own way that Jungkook grew up for so long without a father, so that now, it's not like there's a large part of himself carved out and missing.

"Your son basically saved me," Jungkook admits, turning back to the marker. "He gives me hope for a better future. Makes me believe that I can really work hard and achieve happiness, you know, that it doesn't have to be just going through the motions. You've been listening to him play the piano too, right? He's so good. It's like he turns every score into his personal language. I think anyone could listen to his music and feel soothed."

There's some comfort in the gentle way Jungkook touches him, at least. Yoongi makes himself take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Crying about it won't change anything. She's gone. She's gone, and sometimes he still feels like she's here, but it's not enough and it never will be. He just has to accept that there's a hole in him even Jungkook can't fill.

Whether he knows it or not, he tries; the sweet things he says, the touch of his hand, it makes Yoongi feel a little less empty. It reminds him, too, that they should be saying these things to her directly, that she should be here to hear them make their case for their happiness.

"Of course there's gonna be a better future," he says. Optimism hasn't been his forte in a long time, but for Jungkook, it's easier to try, easier to believe. "It'll be us." As much as this hurts, he still believes that. "I didn't think there would be, Mom. Not without you. But he makes it easier. It'll be okay. So you don't have to worry about me, okay?"

Swallowing hard, he glances away, swiping quickly at the stray tears that fall when he closes his eyes. "I really am happy now."

Maybe Jungkook should be prioritizing keeping face in front of Yoongi's mother right now. He probably would be, if this meeting were actually in person, if Yoongi's mother were actually seated by the both of them. But it's impossible for Jungkook to witness Yoongi's tears and to stay back, his expression fading into one of concern as he reaches out and cups Yoongi's cheeks in his palms, brushes the tears away before he smooths both hands down to Yoongi's shoulders and pulls him close.

He doesn't think that Yoongi's lying; they're happy now. Jungkook has seen enough of Yoongi's smiles, witnessed enough of the change in his behavior to know that Yoongi really means it when he says that things are easier. Because there are times when he isn't focused on the loss — can't be, not when the concept of them is all that either of them can focus on.

But being happy doesn't exclude being sad. Doesn't erase the feeling of loss.

"It's okay to miss her," Jungkook murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Yoongi's forehead, then leaning in until they're pressed cheek to cheek. "I'm sure she understands, Yoongi-ah."

There are times when it's easier, when Yoongi can just about forget what he's lost, caught up in his music or his friends, distracted by Jungkook. Sometimes, though, the grief hits hard, almost more than he can bear. Everyone likes to say it gets easier, and he guesses it does. They never said it also wouldn't, that there would be days when it feels just as fresh and raw as it did when the numbness finally passed.

He wraps his arms around Jungkook, leaning into him, letting the feeling of his hands on Yoongi's arms calm him. It's all he can do at first, not sure how to begin putting his feelings into words. He doesn't like for her to see him like this, to have to worry. He doesn't like to put Jungkook through it either.

"I just," he starts, taking as deep a breath as he can manage. He doesn't cry very often, but once he starts, it's hard to stop. "It shouldn't be like this. She should be here. I want you to know her."

"I know," Jungkook murmurs, pulling Yoongi closer still to his chest, his fingers stretching out over the back of Yoongi's neck, giving him opportunity to tuck his face away against Jungkook's shoulder if he wants, or against the side of Jungkook's neck. In many ways, Jungkook imagines he better understands how Yoongi feels than most. In others, he's not sure that even he could ever begin to understand the searing loss.

He tilts his head, pressing soft kisses against Yoongi's temple, threading his fingers through Yoongi's hair. All that he can manage now is to serve as a physical reminder that Yoongi isn't alone, and that it's okay for him to let out his emotion in whatever way he needs.

"She should be here. I should be fumbling nervously with my shirt and smoothing out my hair. Should be practicing my smile and mixing up my words," Jungkook agrees. "You should have had the chance for us to meet. Your mother and your partner. I'm sorry, Yoongi-ah. It's all so unfair."

Partner. It's a good word, Yoongi thinks, an accurate one. In everything that comes their way, Jungkook is his partner, at his side, facing down the future hand in hand. For now, though, he's a buoy, too, keeping Yoongi from sinking or floating away. Yoongi buries his face against Jungkook's shoulder, holding him tight, eyes shut against the threat of more tears. He hates crying in general, hates it more here in front of her. They've never asked him to be strong, either of them, but he wants to be for both of them.

Jungkook's hand in his hair is gentle and familiar, the soft warmth of fingers splayed against the back of his neck, and Yoongi curls his in Jungkook's shirt. He wants to deflect, his instinct to grow irritable and pull away. Instead he relaxes into Jungkook, safer in his arms than he is anywhere else.

It's melodramatic, he knows, to think he lost both of his parents in that fire, but it feels true. Here and now, though, he's loved, and it feels like permission to let go a little, to be sad.

"I want her to love you," he mumbles, throat tight. "And you would have loved her."

It's always hard to know when words might help. Sometimes, they end up seeming like little more than platitudes, empty suggestions that do nothing to ease the ache. Sometimes, they're the lifeline that helps pull everything back into perspective when one's own thoughts are too crowded to see clear. Jungkook can only hope that Yoongi's love for him will help to shape the words into the sentiment Jungkook wants to convey — that the love will shape words into hope, rather than throwing despair into further relief.

"I do love her," Jungkook says, his voice slightly wet. "Because I love you. And you are who you are because of her — she shaped you, she... raised this wonderful boy that I'm in love with now. She still lives on in you, Yoongi-ah, not just in your music but in so many other ways. So I do love her. How could I not?"

Jungkook presses his nose against Yoongi's temple, his fingers continuing to weave through Yoongi's hair with a gentle motion. "And you love me... so maybe that means she would have loved me, too."

It hurts, knowing he'll never really be sure of that. All Yoongi can do is hope and guess what his mother would have said. He'd like to think he knew her enough to imagine, but sometimes he trips on the past, unsure if he's picturing her accurately or if she's starting to slip away.

That he carries her in his heart is true. He knows that. To think of his keeping her alive in other ways, though, is comforting. "I was always more like her," he allows. "They said I was her shadow." It's true, he thinks, too, that she shaped him. So much of who he is is what he learned from her, consciously or otherwise. Of course Jungkook would love her.

Of course she would love him.

"She would have," he says, muffled but decisive. "How could she not? If only because... I'm better with you. In every way."

For a moment, Jungkook almost smiles at the thought of Yoongi trailing along after his mother, adopting her mannerisms, always wanting to be within reach. But the pain of the image follows almost instantly — reminders of how often Jungkook's seen Yoongi standing on his own, more isolated than the rest of them. How often Jungkook's gaze skirted to the side long before they became a couple, curious about the hyung who so rarely seemed to lean on the others.

Now, Jungkook understands that the strength and skill were likely both built out of necessity.

How different would things be, had Yoongi's mother not passed away?

"I don't know about making you better when you've always been perfect to me," Jungkook murmurs, his throat feeling tight. "But I know that I make you happier. And she'd want that. That's what loving parents want most, right? For their kids to be happy."

Sometimes Yoongi is grateful for the ache. If nothing else, it means she isn't gone, not completely. He hasn't let her disappear. He won't. The thought makes him want to talk for once, to tell Jungkook everything he can remember, all the little details that were part of the mother he adored, to keep her alive if only in his words.

"Yeah," he murmurs, nodding. "She would. And you do." It's comforting to hear from Jungkook, a confirmation that he knows how much he means to Yoongi. Try as he might to tell him, it's not something Yoongi thinks can ever really be put into words, but still, Jungkook knows. "I'm so much happier with you." He exhales sharply, blinking hard. "She wanted me to be a pianist. If I wanted. I mean, she really just wanted me to be happy, no matter how impractical."

And there's nothing particularly practical about being in love with another man in this day and age. But if she can see them now, Yoongi thinks, she'd want this for him, too.

A pianist. There's a part of Jungkook that longs for that to happen for Yoongi as well, for Yoongi to be able to earn a living doing the things he loves most. But years of schooling have taught him, if nothing else, the impracticality of venturing into art and art alone. To survive off of an artist's income is just that — surviving at best — and for reasons completely unrelated to the quality of the art itself. It's simply a matter of logistics. Too many artists to have all of their work exposed, too difficult to work against algorithms that focus entirely on favoring the few.

As much as Jungkook loves Yoongi's music, as much as either of them know that Yoongi has a gift, Jungkook knows that trying to be a pianist might be more risk than either of them is willing to take now, when their love itself already feels like it's challenged by society.

But Yoongi's mother wanted that for him, nonetheless. Yoongi's mother was a dreamer, and maybe that tells Jungkook more about how she'd feel about the two of them than anything else. He nods against Yoongi's temple, running fingers steadily through his hair. Sweeping, soothing motions.

"She really did just want you to be happy," Jungkook agrees. "So really, the responsibility's mine now. To make sure that I can make you happy for the rest of your life. I think she'd like the fact that that's my goal."

Even when Yoongi remembers his mother's warnings when he was little, all he can remember now is how much softer her voice was than his father's, the love behind the caution. Maybe it was because he was so young. She never liked to be harsh with him, but that must have been all the more true when he was just a little kid. He hardly remembers the words themselves, just the meaning and the feeling behind them. She wanted his happiness, which, at least to her, meant his safety.

If she could see him now, though, he knows she'd feel differently. The way Jungkook holds him, it's like he's found shelter in the eye of the storm. If she's watching, then he knows she must already approve.

"She would," he says, nodding. "I think she'd like knowing someone else is trying." He draws back just enough that he can lean in and kiss Jungkook, brief and chaste though it is. "And succeeding. I love you so much." Maybe he won't ever fulfill his mother's dream for him; being a musician is a tenuous life to choose, and he wants to build a solid, steady one for the two of them, filled with music but not reliant on it. But he'd like to think she'd want that for him, too, a life without having to scramble to stay afloat. A life full of love. She would want that for him, as much as anything else, for him to be loved.

A brief thought flickers through Jungkook's mind at Yoongi's words — that there should have been someone else trying long before now, that Yoongi's father should have been the one maintaining Yoongi's happiness. Jungkook's opinion of the man always seems to waver back and forth, between sheer frustration at his incompetence and empathy for all that he must have lost. Ultimately, though, parents should be there for their kids. They should be able to rise above all other struggles and at least be present for their children.

Jungkook wonders what Yoongi's mother would think. What she'd do — if she'd make an effort to get through to her husband for her son's sake.

If Jungkook can one day be brave in her stead.

His eyes close instinctively for the kiss, cheeks flooding over with warmth as his gaze skirts briefly to the side, glancing at Yoongi's mother's marker, as though she might offer some type of sign of approval.

"I love you most," Jungkook murmurs, pressing another peck to the tip of Yoongi's nose as his thumb continues to brush away any remaining moisture on his cheek. "I'll never stop trying to make you happy. Even if you become the happiest person in the world, I'll keep trying to find a way to make you happier still."

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