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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"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."

With anyone else, Yoongi thinks, he'd be mortified right now. He can feel the heat in his cheeks and places where his skin is too tight from drying tears, his eyes probably red from crying, however much he tried to stifle it. If anyone else were here, he'd be ashamed to be seen like this. But there's none of that with Jungkook, only quiet consolation, only safety. It's okay. If he needs to cry, if he can't help hurting, Jungkook doesn't try to change that. He lets him cry and ache and only tries to soften the pain as much as he can.

"Forever," Yoongi says, pouting slightly. "You already promised forever." He turns his head and presses a kiss to Jungkook's palm, a flicker of embarrassment across his face as he glances over to the marker. "You see, Mom? How good he is for me. How much he loves me. You'd love him, wouldn't you?" For me, he thinks. If nothing else, she would love Jungkook because he does.

In the presence of her absence, it's usually hard to feel anything very positive. Right now, though, for what must be the first time here, he feels lucky — lucky to be loved and to be alive.

"You'd be proud to have him for your son, too."

Jungkook has always found it difficult not to feel inadequate when standing in front of a grave marker. For Yoongi's mom, that feeling of not being enough feels sharper than ever before, even if they never had the opportunity to meet. Even if Jungkook has no real reason to believe that she would find him lacking as a person, and even if Yoongi's memories only seem to suggest the opposite. In front of a marker, more than anywhere else, Jungkook only finds himself reflecting on all the ways he wants to continue to grow, all the things he's yet to accomplish in his life.

He's never had the best grades in his class. Never been the tallest, the most handsome. In the day to day, it's okay to feel like a work-in-progress, with runway that still lies ahead of him, but a graveyard is a place for reflection, and Jungkook can only find flaws in himself.

Would she be proud to have him as her son?

"I did promise Yoongi hyung forever, mother," Jungkook admits, his ears coloring again as he bows his head. "For as long as he'll have me. And I'll work hard, I'll work harder than ever to become someone who can provide for him in all the other ways, too. I hope that can put your heart at peace a little more, mother. I'm looking out for him."

"As long as I'll have you," Yoongi echoes, wry. "For all of this life and the next and the next. Forever. We'll look out for each other." He likes the idea of being the one to provide as much as he likes the idea of Jungkook taking care of him. Between the two of them, he thinks, they'll be successful and happy, living a contented life. Even if that means he takes an office job somewhere, the piano just a hobby, he thinks that would make his mother proud. That's what he wants, as much as he wants a life with Jungkook; he wants to live in a way that would make her proud.

"We've been working on a Schubert piece, Mom. One we play together, for four hands. I hope you'll come listen some time. I hope you'll bless us both." He hopes, too, that she understands. That she can see the devotion between them, that she can see they're really meant to be together forever. Every word Jungkook says is so earnest, she must be able to feel the truth of it. The love they bear for each other is more important than anything else.

As long as he'll have me, Jungkook repeats in his mind, smiling as he glances over at Yoongi. It's not that he expects that there will come a day when Yoongi doesn't want him — there's been absolutely no indication of that whatsoever in their dating life so far. But Jungkook wonders, sometimes. Little niggling voices at the back of his head that wonder what should happen if he can't quite keep up. He's not quite as good at his classes as Yoongi is, even though he's pretty sure he can learn how to study twice as hard.

And sometimes, when they've been apart and Jungkook doesn't have the luxury of seeing Yoongi's soft, affectionate gaze, Jungkook finds himself wondering what it is about him that's drawn Yoongi in at all.

But those voices has been quiet as of late, receding with the passage of time.

He's so good for me, Jungkook thinks to no one in particular. Maybe Yoongi's mom will hear. Maybe his dad will.

"Ah, I need to work so much harder on that piece," Jungkook laughs, slightly self-deprecating. "Yoongi's so good, mother, he already plays laps around me. But it's also unfair because he has a piano at home, and all I can do is print out keys and try to tap notes on my desk. For now, I always have to wait until I'm able to visit. Maybe you can bless me with a little more skill so that I can catch up."

"That's so cute," Yoongi says, hand briefly covering his mouth to hide his grin at the idea of Jungkook playing Schubert on his desk. "You see, Mom? When he cares about something, he's so dedicated. Devoted." If he could find a way for the two of them to practice more often, he would, but even during the holidays, there's only so much they can get away with without arousing suspicion in Jungkook's parents. That's fine, though. He tells himself what he's taken to telling himself every time things feel hard now: things will change. They'll be together. They'll have their own place, their own life.

Everything used to feel so flat, so much the same, from one day to the next. Yoongi's told his mother that, confided his fears and heartaches to her when he didn't know where else to turn. She must see what he sees, how big a change this relationship has wrought in him. How much steadier, how much happier, he is now. There's a future suddenly and he wants to live for it, to get to see it.

"And he's devoted to me," he finishes softly. "I don't know why, but I don't care." He glances over at Jungkook. "As long as he stays, I don't care."

"You only say it's cute because you don't see how terribly ineffective it is," Jungkook laughs out loud, his face already flushed with embarrassment. If Yoongi's mother is indeed watching, she probably has had a front row seat to how many times Jungkook's driven his own fingertips to numbness by hammering away on his desk. The better solution would probably be to invest some money in a cheap keyboard, but Jungkook isn't sure yet how he would explain the purchase to either of his parents without drawing attention to his relationship with Yoongi.

Someday. Maybe in a year from now, and at most two. Gradually, these barriers will lower.

The air feels a little lighter now in spite of the ache that lingers in Jungkook's chest, and he finds himself stepping closer to Yoongi's side, giving Yoongi's hand a tight squeeze. "I'm devoted to you because you're the person I love most in this world," Jungkook answers plainly. "And you're a better person than you realize, Min Yoongi. I have good taste, you know. A very discerning eye for talent and looks alike."

He blinks, glancing back at the marker with a panicked look. "Which is not to say that I'm dating your son only for his appearance! He... aish," Jungkook cringes. "He's just got everything, you know?"

Yoongi laughs, at once sheepish and pleased, and pulls his hand from Jungkook's so he can wrap his arms around him instead. This time, when he pulls him close, it's just a hug; earlier, holding Jungkook felt more like trying to keep himself from drowning. Now it's just a way to express how content he is.

How grateful.

He always thought he saw himself clearly. That, somehow, when he looked at himself and saw all those flaws, he was just being honest. Cruel, maybe, but honest, aware of his strengths, but also of his many, many flaws. Trying to see what Jungkook sees in him has been an exercise in kindness, a process of learning to be gentle. It takes effort to be nice to himself. Jungkook, without trying, has been showing him the way.

"I do," he says softly. "I have you. And... I'm figuring out the rest." Over Jungkook's shoulder, he looks to the marker, heart squeezing tight, with gratitude, with sorrow, with love. "I'm learning how to be a son you can be proud of, Mom. And I think maybe I'm getting there."

Jungkook almost wants to protest when Yoongi implies that having Jungkook is having everything — wants to point out that Yoongi on his own already has it all. But maybe now isn't the right time to drum up such an argument, however lighthearted it would be. Jungkook settles instead for pressing his nose to Yoongi's temple, letting his eyes close and rest for an extended moment. As much as it ever aches to make a visit to the grave, Jungkook feels less alone with Yoongi's company. Lighter, somehow.

"We'll figure out the rest together," Jungkook murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Yoongi's cheek before turning around to look at his mom's marker once more. "He's already a son that you're proud of, isn't he, mother? Even if he doesn't believe it himself. I know that you must be so, so proud of him — of how strong he is, and what a good heart he has."

Pulling back with a grin, Jungkook tilts his head, gaze skating over Yoongi appreciatively. "I'm the luckiest," he nods firmly.

I don't feel very strong, Yoongi thinks, and it's sheer habit, the quick and easy dismissal of his own abilities, because in the next moment he thinks maybe, just maybe, he does. He is stronger lately and braver and happier. And it's not that he gets those qualities from Jungkook, but, he thinks, Jungkook brings them out in him, makes the burdens easier to bear and the future easier to face.

He laughs and ducks his head, bashful at the praise, his heart full. Even if he doesn't believe it himself. It would be nice if he could have found all this in himself on his own, but he's not afraid to admit that it's Jungkook who's helped him discover it. So many times, he's found himself thinking, if Jungkook believes this and this of him, then there must be some truth in it. Maybe he's not as amazing as his boyfriend thinks, but there must be something of those qualities in him, things to love and admire and be proud of.

"And you're right," he admits. "She is proud of me. I feel it." It's a cold, brisk day, but he feels alight and warm, safe in Jungkook's arms and the sudden certainty that his mother understands. She had her dark days, too, and pulled through them. She won't think any less of him if he needs Jungkook's support to get through himself. If anything, she must be happy he's so loved. "Thank you. For coming with me." It's a lot easier not to feel so alone this way.

Jungkook lights up immediately when Yoongi finally relents, when he admits to knowing that he's made his mother proud. Perhaps to some people, it wouldn't feel like much — a relatively harmless admission of pride about a person who's no longer around to protest. But Jungkook knows how much Yoongi cares about what his mother would have done, what his mother would have felt. And perhaps even more importantly than that, he knows now how much it means that Yoongi can see that light in himself, even if only for a moment.

Because when he does, everything about his expression changes, like a weight has been lifted off of Yoongi's shoulders.

Maybe it's a little bit impulsive and Jungkook can't even begin to imagine how it might look to anyone else, but he seizes the moment nevertheless, wrapping his arms tight around Yoongi's waist and lifting him slightly off his feet, twirling the both of them around. It's almost too much for the somber atmosphere of a graveyard, but then again, Jungkook thinks, isn't this what all people really want for their loved ones?

To know that one's loved ones will continue to be happy, even when one's gone.

"Thank you for coming with me," Jungkook breathes, carefully setting Yoongi back down on his feet. "And for inviting me."

Yoongi laughs, surprised, arms wrapped tight over Jungkook's shoulders, and buries his face against his neck when they come to a stop. "Yah, you're ridiculous," he says, and he can't even pretend to be annoyed. His heart is racing, but, more surprisingly, it's light. So often he resists even coming alone because he knows he'll end up upset. Sharing his life with a mother who can no longer be present in it hurts. He tries to come regularly, but he always ends up in tears or close to it, the memory too vivid and painful.

But here's Jungkook, holding him, making him fly, and he knows it's okay. Well, sort of okay, at least. He's pretty sure that he'll never heal from losing her, not really. But now there's something to remind him that, however much it sometimes feels like it, his mother is not the sole claimant on his heart. He's loved, he's in love, and he knows, whatever worries she might have, she's got to be happy. She must know better than anyone how truly lonely he's been, even with so many wonderful friends, and now he doesn't feel so alone. He works hard, he play diligently, and he loves every bit as intensely; these things, he thinks, she would be proud of.

"This was a good idea," he says when he lifts his head again, finger tracing the curve of Jungkook's jaw. "I'm glad we got to meet them. It means a lot to me."

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."

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