Yoongi's heart skips and stutters as he looks at Jungkook, jolting almost painfully at the sight of such patient vulnerability. Even if Jungkook trusts him so deeply, there's something brave about it, he thinks, putting so much faith in someone else. It's a particular kind of bravery that Yoongi thinks now he's been very afraid of until Jungkook. Maybe when he was younger, innocent and naive, he didn't know better. Maybe it's just hard to put his heart on the line after all he's lost, knowing how easily, how completely, he can be devastated by a single person's absence. He doesn't know what he'd do if he lost Jungkook, too, but for the first time in years, the risk feels worth it.

That doesn't make it easy. But Jungkook, laid out on the bed for him, waiting, his palms up like an offering, like he's offering up his entire self — he is offering up himself in every way — he makes it look easy. Makes it look desirable, even, to be that vulnerable.

To be that sure of someone else. Of Yoongi.

"Stay like that," he murmurs, heart lodged in his throat. He doesn't want to stop staring and he wants to be closer and he can't bear to move away, but he slips forward just enough to grab a ribbon. He kneels at Jungkook's side, reaching for his hands, lifting them to press gentle kisses to his palms. He could tie Jungkook to the bed again, like he usually does, but seeing him like this, something different couldn't hurt. So he twines the ribbon carefully around Jungkook's wrists, binding them together in front of him, feeling himself getting harder even from this slow, simple, deliberate act. "There," he says when he finishes, giving a quick kiss to Jungkook's bound wrist. "Is that okay? Too tight?"