They shouldn't kiss out here where someone might see them, but Yoongi doesn't care. He leans his head after Jungkook's when he finally draws back, chasing after the last hint of the kiss. The physical contact, the closeness, gives him a sense of comfort as potent as Jungkook's words. He trusts Jungkook and he believes him when he says these things, but touch seems infallible to him; the love in Jungkook's kiss, the tenderness in his embrace, it's solid and real and beyond question or doubt. He's so lucky, so loved. Somewhere, somehow, in some other life, he must have done something wonderful.

"Yeah?" He closes his eyes, fingers curling gently in Jungkook's shirt. "You've taught me a lot, too, you know. Teaching me right now. I don't know how you're so patient with me, but thank you. Really, thank you." It's something he suspects that, ultimately, he'll have to do alone, but learning how to live with the voice that haunts him, the self-hatred and the doubt and the fear, it's a lot easier with someone at his side who's the antithesis of all that cruelty, whose favored role in life seems to be Min Yoongi's personal cheerleader.