lovestrippedbare | 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕠

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yoongi

𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕠

There are times, Jungkook thinks, when unexpected changes in plan work out for the best. Giving up on the idea of Busan during winter break wasn't the easiest choice at the time — Jungkook had expected it to be the highlight of their winter, and giving into the pressure of Yeongwook's blackmailing hurt on multiple levels. But distance seemed safest. Planning, biding their time, having Jungkook carefully siphon a portion of his allowance over to Yoongi for safekeeping, every passing day made the trip feel more viable again, until the two of them suddenly realized that Yoongi's birthday would be an easy occasion to leave for, and that was that.

They've picked up memories along the way. The first night Jungkook had Yoongi stay over. The first dinner together with his mother, with her offering countless thanks for helping her youngest with his studies. A trip out to a nameless beach, all seven of them together, huddled and bracing against the last of the winter winds.

Getting to March isn't as difficult as Jungkook expected it to be, and now that they're here, the wait has made everything all the sweeter.

He takes countless pictures with his camera — of their seats together on the train, of the little box meals they buy from the lady with the cart. Of the ramyeon they buy an hour later, when it's clear that the box meals are more packaging than substance.

Of Yoongi, staring out the window of the train car, a soft smile on his face.

At first, Jungkook struggled with the idea of spending much of Yoongi's birthday on the train, but the trip to Busan takes several hours at best, which would have required missing class on Friday. Seeing Yoongi's peaceful expression on the train helps to set a little of that regret to rest, as does the stifled laughter they share as they stumble down the hall to their room in the hotel.

"Hotel Elysee," Jungkook says with a flourish as he waits for Yoongi to swipe their room key. "Is that, like, French?"

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It takes a lot of work to convince Yoongi of his internal beauty — much more than his external, most days — but at times like this, it's easier to feel it's true that there's something in him worth loving. Jungkook wouldn't if there weren't. No matter how soft his heart, he couldn't just invent someone to love and then ignore everything real about Yoongi; some part of those things he loves must be there.

Even if he wanted to protest, any thought of it falls by the wayside with Jungkook's next words. Yoongi's mouth opens for him to speak, but his words tumble over themselves so quickly that, at first, nothing comes out. He just shakes his head. "No," he says, "no." It's not like it bothers him that the others chose that for themselves — the arrangement, anyway, not the emotions. If they're happy, he really doesn't give a fuck what that takes, as long as they're all on the same page. But for himself, it's so hard to imagine. He has a lot of love to give, if he's honest with himself, his heart bigger, softer, than he'd like, too easily bruised. But nothing else has felt like this, and he finds he hopes nothing else ever does. He doesn't want another love. He wants this, forever. "I don't think I could. I don't — the way I feel about you — I don't think I could."

Part of Jungkook immediately knows that it's the truth. That there's no part of Yoongi that has the faintest desire to look elsewhere for love, that there's no part of Yoongi that can even conceive of love being more than what he and Jungkook already share. It's the same part of Jungkook that knows that Yoongi is the only one for him as well — that, even if Yoongi were to suddenly decide he was no longer in love, Jungkook would never be able to match what they've had together already.

Still, there's a part of Jungkook that needs Yoongi to know, nonetheless. "I'm just saying. Hypothetically," Jungkook murmurs, grinning up at Yoongi and brushing his thumb against the curve of Yoongi's lips, soft and reassuring. "Like if I secretly have a long-lost twin who looks exactly like me and has all of the same interests and stuff, y'know, you could hit that. Or if anything happened to me."

Jungkook licks his lips briefly; maybe it's the loss of their parents that has his mind wandering as much as the other boys. Yoongi's father lost his mother, and for years, he hasn't looked elsewhere for love. Jungkook's mother did. And as much as Jungkook thinks his stepfather falls short of his late father, he's also convinced that it's better she has someone than no one at all.

"Which it won't, because I'm as healthy as a horse," he adds, trying to lighten the moment.

Even so, Yoongi's heart squeezes tight in his chest with fear at the very thought of it. He's lost too much already. And he knows, some people lose more. Some people, the world takes so much, like Hoseok, without any parents at all, abandoned, alone except for them. He only lost one person, but when she left, part of him did, too. He's never going to be the same without his mother. He can only imagine for a fractured instant how lost, how broken, he'd be if anything happened to Jungkook. He's not sure he could survive another loss like that.

He hates that, hates how fragile he's become since she died. Even if he's decent at hiding it, he breaks more easily than he used to, cries more readily, pulls away too fast, afraid of everything.

Except Jungkook, Jungkook can see it. He knows and he stays.

"It better not," he whispers, gaze lowering briefly, lashes fluttering as he tries to steady himself against the very idea of it. "I need you too much. I don't ever want to be without you. Not ever again."

"You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried," Jungkook insists with a wrinkle of his nose. "I'm younger than you, and I've got longer legs, so I'll catch up to you no matter where you go." It's a teasing thought more than anything else. Jungkook knows that there isn't a single part of Yoongi that has any true desire to run — not when life is so much brighter when the two of them are together. Jungkook knows that it isn't even a matter of Yoongi trying to live up to expectations — it's so easy now to see all the times before they kissed when both of them were constantly looking for excuses to be together, a simple shopping trip turned into an entire day spent side by side.

It'd take a lot to shake their love, Jungkook thinks, and how instinctive it is.

He narrows his eyes, carrying on with an exaggerated flair. "I'll come running to university campus after school each day. Give any hot guys or girls the stink eye if they get too close to you. And if they invite you out to bars, I'll — I dunno, get a fake ID or something. I could totally pass for twenty, right?" He sucks in his cheeks just a little, trying to give him a more defined edge.

Yoongi laughs, the creeping edge of melancholy ebbing away again. Jungkook is good for him, he thinks, a balm for his worries, soothing to his heart. He's better off with him, happier than he used to be. Kinder, he thinks, to himself than he once was. He leans close, pressing a kiss to Jungkook's hollowed cheek. "Definitely," he teases. "Very mature." He doubts Jungkook could pass for anything above seventeen, but the idea of it is cute, Jungkook trying to sneak into places he's not allowed just to keep an eye on him. Jealousy is oddly flattering, when it's mostly in jest.

"Please," he adds, wry, brushing a kiss against Jungkook's lips. "Like I have eyes for anyone but you." No matter how hot someone else might be, acknowledging it isn't enough to distract him from what they have. Why would he trade away the surest thing he's ever felt? Fingers brushing through Jungkook's hair, he shifts closer, lifting his chin to press a kiss to Jungkook's forehead. Yeah, other people might be objectively hotter, but it doesn't take a genius to see that Jungkook is only going to get more and more beautiful as he grows older, or that he's ridiculously lovely now. "Doesn't matter how hot these people are."

Jungkook levels Yoongi with a pointed gaze, eyes narrowed as he tries to decide whether or not Yoongi's making fun of him. Ultimately, though, it doesn't matter — Jungkook is self-aware enough to know that he still looks young, and doesn't even have the benefit of a low voice like Taehyung does. He's also not a good enough actor to pull off such a stunt; apologies would be spilling out of him as soon as a bouncer looked at him. But even beyond that, the fact remains that Jungkook doesn't have to worry about Yoongi straying in the first place.

Even if Yoongi found someone else, Jungkook knows that Yoongi would be honest about it. They've shared too much as friends before ever dating to not offer one another that level of respect.

So he sighs instead, melting into Yoongi's touch and nipping at Yoongi's lips whenever he draws near. "I got real lucky," he murmurs. "How many people get to kiss their first real crush, let alone fall in love? And fuck?" He pauses, tilting his head. "...probably should've switched the order of the last two."

Maybe he should have, but the small realization is enough to make Yoongi laugh again, chasing another kiss with laughter still on his lips. "I don't know," he teases, "the fucking's a pretty big deal." And it's not like it's only a joke. It didn't take much time for him to know he wanted to have sex with Jungkook, well before he should have let himself think about it, before it felt anything less than shameful. But actually sleeping with him was something else entirely — not just desire, but something built on love and trust, a forging of their souls into one.

He runs his hand down Jungkook's side to the small of his back, tugging him closer, hip to hip. "I mean," he says, a little slower, more serious, if still light, "it's not like it's just sex. When we're together like that..." He brushes his nose against Jungkook's cheek, presses a soft kiss to his lips. "I don't know. It's special. Right." It's just a way to express how deeply in love they've fallen, a way to make each other feel good. Love expresses itself physically in so many ways, from the way his heart races when he sees Jungkook to the way he can't get enough of how he smells. Sex is part of that. "Like I'm a part of you. Gets so I can't tell us apart."

The trace of a hand down his side and around to the small of his back draws a shiver out of Jungkook, leaning in and finding Yoongi's lips again, drawn to him by an invisible force. Sometimes, Jungkook feels like he must be the moon that orbits Yoongi, with how easily Yoongi becomes the center of his world — how all other awareness fades when Yoongi is near. But there's something to the way that Yoongi describes their intimacy as well, how it makes it impossible for them to distinguish one another. How they can no longer tell each other apart.

His cheeks color, and in spite of himself, Jungkook finds his eyes warming at the corners, tears not quite threatening, but — close.

"It's not just sex," he agrees, biting on his lip as he bumps his nose against Yoongi's. "Like, even if we weren't so good at getting each other off, just being next to you... feeling you against me, it's. I dunno. It means a lot to me. I like feeling when you breathe, your voice in my ears. S'like my whole world is you, when we're having sex. Literally."

It's not the first time Jungkook's said something to that effect, this idea that his world revolves around Yoongi. It's vaguely alarming, if only because Yoongi isn't sure he deserves that level of adoration. Mostly, though, it's flattering. Sweet. Whether he deserves it or not, he likes it. Maybe that makes him a little egotistical but he doesn't really care. Besides, it's not like the feeling isn't mutual.

"Sleep better when I can feel you breathe," he says softly. "Your chest against my back." It's like the slow, steady rhythm of his breath helps to keep Yoongi's heart and racing thoughts in check. "And when we're together — when I'm inside you —" He lifts a hand to Jungkook's hair, traces his fingertips lower until he can cup his cheek. "It's just... right. Feels like home, being with you." More, by far, than his house has felt in years. As long as he's with Jungkook, he knows he's where he's supposed to be. Other things should matter, he knows that, but not much really does. He brushes his thumb along Jungkook's cheekbone, heart aching fondly at how bright the younger boy's eyes have become, at the soft flush on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jungkook agrees, closing his eyes at the thought of how it feels to sleep with Yoongi's arms wrapped around him, warm and safe. "I like feeling the rhythm of your breathing, too. And just the sound of it, it's like — it quiets all the other noise in my head. Stops me from thinking so much that I can't get to sleep." As much as the other boys make fun of Jungkook for often being the most difficult to wake, part of the issue, Jungkook suspects, is that it's always hard for him to stop jumping from thought to thought.

But with Yoongi's arms around him, Jungkook can finally relax. Lay down his burdens and simply breathe.

"And then when we're intimate, yeah, it's. Like everything's fitting back in place," Jungkook smiles, humming to himself. "I guess things literally are fitting back to place, in a way. S'probably why I enjoy it when you're the one inside me. Even if I'm curious to flip things around someday." Cracking one eye open, Jungkook lets his hand skate down to Yoongi's ass, ghosting a touch over skin.

It hurts a little, if Yoongi's honest with himself, to know that Jungkook has the same problem he does. On nights when they're apart, or back before they were together at all, he could barely sleep for thinking, too much running through his head. It leaves him cracked open, emptied out, his heart aching, stomach twisted, until he can hardly breathe. The thoughts sweep over him so fast, he can't stop them, drowning under their dark weight. All that pain and loss and regret, all that fear that the future only holds more of the same, that he's as worthless as his father seems to think, it's like the only thing that can contain it is the gentle weight of Jungkook's arms around him. And as much as he likes knowing he can provide the same comfort for Jungkook, he hates knowing it's needed. There isn't anything Yoongi wouldn't do to protect Jungkook, even from his own mind.

He kisses Jungkook's cheek, hips shifting instinctively closer at the soft brush of Jungkook's hand. "Yeah," he breathes. He likes being on top; he doesn't know how anyone could ever get enough of fucking Jungkook, though, then again, no one else ever will. (They're young, people break up, he gets that. Not them.) But the idea of Jungkook hovering over him, pressing inside of him, filling him up — it gets under his skin, cock twitching with faint interest between them. "Eventually. Really want that."

Even if they're only discussing the thought for now, something about Yoongi's interest still makes Jungkook preen with pride. There are very few times when Jungkook's relished being in control. Even on the occasions when he feels like he longs for change, when he wishes he could sway the story in one direction or another, Jungkook finds that he lacks the confidence for the follow-through. If anything, the fact that life has jerked him in one direction or the other at its whim has made Jungkook less sure of being able to find his own way. In the relentless current of the river, he lets himself go limp to spare himself the shock of being thrown in all directions.

But with Yoongi, Jungkook finds himself wanting to try. Wanting to be that steady presence for Yoongi in the same way that he's been so for Jungkook. Maybe fucking should be the least of his concerns in that regard, but somehow it matters in ways that Jungkook can't express. There's nowhere in the world where he's quite as vulnerable than when he lies with Yoongi like this, baring his heart, sharing his soul. In that regard, being able to explore intimacy from the other side feels important.

"Good," he whispers, slipping a finger between Yoongi's cheeks, watching intently as he brushes against the rim. He's not ready for that step yet, but it doesn't hurt to imagine it. "'Cause I wanna feel what it's like to be in you. Bury myself so deep."

It's only the slightest touch, but Yoongi lets out a soft, shaking breath, eyes going dark and liquid as he resists the urge to press back against Jungkook's finger. It's impossible not to wonder, not to want to know how it feels — both out of desire and from the longing to share everything, to know how it feels for Jungkook, too. He leans forward instead, steadying a hand against Jungkook's chest as he seeks out a kiss. "Soon," he promises. It seems like a fitting reward for a job well done and, anyway, anticipation, he's found, only makes things sweeter. When the time is right, he knows he'll yield to Jungkook entirely, in a way he hasn't done even now. It's too easy, with how things are for them, to want to be the strong one, to control and, in so doing, to shield. It gives him a sense of purpose he finds difficult to maintain outside of their relationship.

But being with Jungkook is a learning process, not just about the nature of dating someone, but about himself, and he's finding there's strength in vulnerability too. Jungkook's shown him that, with all his sweet trust, his willingness to depend on Yoongi when Yoongi had long since stopped seeing himself as dependable. It makes him want to be that person, the best version of himself.

And in the meanwhile, if he can't stop imagining what Jungkook's going to do to him eventually, well, he can hardly be faulted.

"I want that," he mumbles against Jungkook's lips, hand sliding to his shoulder as he gives in, pressing into Jungkook's touch. "Want you to fill me completely."

There will be time later to fret about whether or not Jungkook can live up to expectations, whether or not he can handle having so much control. For now, Jungkook's gaze fixates on the subtle shifts in Yoongi's expression, the flush on his cheeks so prettily pink against the ivory tone of his skin, eyes blown dark, lips parted. He wants to sear that image into his mind, reluctant to let go of it even for the kiss that Yoongi offers, lips slotting together, the touch honeyed and sweet. Soon, the promise echoes in Jungkook's mind, and he sighs, energy thrumming through his veins with nothing against which to find purpose, until Jungkook drops his other hand to Yoongi's hip and lets his fingers squeeze tight.

"Gonna make you feel so good," Jungkook promises, his voice suddenly soft and tender, following Yoongi's example. Yoongi's always protected Jungkook in moments such as these, shielded Jungkook, all the vulnerable parts of him carefully tucked under Yoongi's shadow. Jungkook will simply have to offer the same in turn, when the time comes. A safe haven from all the noise that surrounds them. "Fill you up." He slides his finger along the rim, feather-light, then traces up to the base of Yoongi's spine. "So deep that we'll forget what's you and what's me. We'll feel everything together."

Jungkook smiles, nips at the soft curve of Yoongi's lip. Even if sex didn't feel half as good as it did, Jungkook thinks he'd want that intimacy regardless, the romance in feeling their bodies shift together, working to move in tandem. A duet all their own. "And until then, you'll just have to fuck me enough that I remember to study whenever I'm sitting in class." He snickers, wiggling his butt for emphasis.

A whine slips out of Yoongi before he can stop it, faintly disappointed there won't be more, though he knows it's probably better they stop there. Any further and they might get too caught up in the moment. He could be ready for that, he thinks, wants it desperately, but he's supposed to be holding back as a reward and there's no sense offering that up without following through. Maybe it's silly, offering up sex for good grades, but if it works, who cares? Besides, the anticipation, the wait, is part of the fun. The foreplay is part of what makes sex itself so good. Still, he can't help it if hearing Jungkook's words sends a heady thrill through him, at once aroused and endeared. The thought is achingly romantic, knowing how connected they'll be, how much he trusts Jungkook.

He gnashes his teeth at Jungkook's shoulder, barely grazing, a mock punishment, and swats at his wiggling ass. "That I can do," he says, a low growl of a promise. As long as Jungkook wants to be fucked, Yoongi can't imagine denying him. Even on days when he's worn out from school, there's pleasure in curling up together, lazily touching until they're both trembling and keening. He always finds a way to make Jungkook feel good, always will. Hand smoothing up Jungkook's back, he lifts his head again, drawing Jungkook's lower lip between his teeth. "Gonna make me wanna again right now," he admits with a small laugh, as if that isn't slowly making itself evident. He can't help it. Jungkook touching him like that, teasing him like that, wound him up a little, and he wants to do something with it. It's ridiculous when they just fucked, and they should really shower and head out to find food, but he's young and in love and really fucking horny about it. Besides, Jungkook's already all stretched out. It wouldn't take much to prep him again, to slip inside him and just be there, held safe inside of him...

But he's probably still sensitive from earlier, too, and Yoongi knows he shouldn't push it. The last thing he wants is to make Jungkook uncomfortable just for the sake of pleasing him. As tempted as he is, as easy as it would be to roll them both over now and pin Jungkook down, he'll follow Jungkook's lead. Nuzzling against Jungkook's cheek, his hand strokes lower again, playing the dip of his spine like keys, lips seeking out Jungkook's. "Don't know how that's gonna help you focus on class, though."

"Y'know, I am all prepped here," Jungkook points out, half-joking as he arches his body against Yoongi's, nose wrinkling slightly when the stickiness of their skin prevents the smooth glide he'd pictured in his mind. But maybe that's part of the appeal of love, Jungkook thinks. Before the two of them dated, it had been so easy to drum up the perfect image of a relationship in his mind, both of them completing each other's sentences, soft kisses perfectly aligned. But now Jungkook finds that it's the little imperfections that make their love feel so real, whether that comes in the form of clammy, post-sex skin, or teeth accidentally knocking in the midst of fervor, or the way his arm falls asleep when Yoongi's head rests on Jungkook's shoulder for too long.

It's the little things that he can laugh at, time and time again.

Still, maybe it's good that the tension was so easily broken this time. As much as Jungkook likes to think that he has the endurance to go for half a dozen orgasms if put to the task, he's pretty sure their time in Busan is better spent on more than just a sex marathon in the hotel room. (If they really felt a need for that back home, they could always book a love hotel for the evening there too, covering for themselves with some type of vague excuse.)

Jungkook leans up, pressing a soft kiss to the small birthmark on Yoongi's cheek. "I don't think it'd be that hard to see how it'd help me focus in class. Hard seat, sore ass. What's that they say in English? No pain, no gain." Jungkook declares, brushing a hand up until his fingertips meet baby fine hairs by Yoongi's temple.

Whenever Jungkook touches him like that, gentle fingers brushing against his skin and hair, he can't help angling his head into it, seeking more of that tender touch. He can, he supposes, see how Seokjin might compare him to a cat, though he'll never give the older boy the satisfaction of admitting it. It's just... comforting, somehow, the amount of love that he can feel in such tiny gestures. Jungkook loves him so much. He's not sure he's felt so safe since he was a child and all the world seemed safe and possible. Jungkook brings that to life again.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, and huffs out a soft laugh. "You sure it wouldn't just remind you of sex?" Though he can't deny that, since they started dating, Jungkook has done somewhat better in his studies. Whether that's the sex or just because Yoongi spends more time studying with him, he doesn't know, but he doesn't think it really matters. As long as Jungkook is working at it, that's all he needs. He remembers a time when Jungkook said he thought about following Yoongi to school. And it's not that Yoongi expects that — he wants Jungkook to have options of his own — but he'd be lying if he said he didn't still think about that, didn't dream of them sharing some little apartment just off campus together. He's not about to rein in his possibilities to make it happen, when he needs a good education if he's going to make anything of himself, but he wants Jungkook to be able to follow.

Hand trailing down Jungkook's side, he slaps his ass playfully, tipping his head forward to nuzzle against Jungkook's cheek. "Or is it that I can't think of anything else right now? We should get cleaned up." Reluctant though he is to pull away, they're both a mess, and if he lingers too much longer here, he's not going to be able to shake the temptation to go another round. Granted, it's not like a shower is going to put them much further apart, but at least they'd be able to get dressed and find dinner.

"Everything reminds me of sex," Jungkook blurts out, pausing only briefly before nodding his head in confirmation. It's not entirely untrue. It's been months since their first kiss, but Jungkook still finds his mind constantly wandering to Yoongi no matter the time of day — time apart is spent pining, and time together is even more intense, he's found, with his eyes constantly trained on every detail of Yoongi's face. Maybe not every waking moment is actually spent thinking about sex, but it is always fixated on the realm of intimacy, be it between the sheets or the simplicity of their fingers entwined. "I mean, I'm always... you've seen my notebooks." Jungkook's ears flare red. Sometimes he tries to be more discreet about their relationship, not wanting to invite any more negative attention than they already receive for being a wayward bunch, but it's hard. His notes are littered with little sketches, mostly a haphazard series of Yoongi's hands, his eyes, his lips.

"If I'm going to be daydreaming about you constantly, it might as well be about things that I won't get without making the grades," he shrugs, yelping when Yoongi's palm smacks against his ass. Caught between indignation and interest, Jungkook's lower lip juts out in a pout, and he lingers for a few seconds before wriggling towards the edge of the mattress. Loathe though he is to leave the bed, Jungkook knows he'll regret it if he lets himself fall asleep now; he's pickier about the state of his linens than he likes to admit.

Once his feet meet the ground, it takes only a couple of steps for Jungkook to swing around to the bathroom. Considering the price of the hotel, it looks surprisingly clean and roomy, enough space to readily fit the two of them. Stepping inside, Jungkook traces his finger along the edge of the mirror, wondering if it'll fog up too quickly to get a good view of the pair of them together.

Yoongi can't even begin to stifle his laughter. He can't help it. Jungkook is fucking adorable, cheeks and ears bright red with embarrassment, like Yoongi wasn't just talking about fucking him a second time, like the notion he thinks about sex as much as Yoongi does is anywhere even close to a revelation. It's sweet, both the odd sense of innocence that clings to Jungkook even now, and the reminder that Jungkook thinks of him all the time. Besides, he's cute when he pouts.

Once his laughter subsides, though, he closes the small gap between them, arms slipping around Jungkook's waist as he steps behind him and ducks his head to press a kiss to Jungkook's shoulder. He glances up, smiles at their reflection, his eyes finding Jungkook's. "I daydream about you constantly, too," he says softly. "And I like that I'm all over your notebooks. That you think about me. It's... romantic." He huffs out a small laugh, almost shy. It's sweet. Jungkook is sweet. Yoongi wouldn't say he's been entirely deprived of that, exactly; as rowdy a bunch as they might be, they care intensely about each other, and all six of his friends have their ways of showing how much that's true, each surprisingly sweet in his way. Still, to have it aimed at him so specifically, so intently, is... flattering. Satisfying. Comforting. Nose brushing against Jungkook's neck, he glances back to the mirror, smile widening a little. They look fucking good together, he thinks. He looks good. Happy. He nips at Jungkook's ear, hugging him a little tighter. "So make the fucking grades."

"It's romantic now," Jungkook laughs, shoulders hunching briefly as much from the tickle of Yoongi's teeth as from embarrassment. He turns to look at Yoongi, feeling his gaze soften as he does. The light of the bathroom might be a little harsh, but it lends Yoongi almost a glow of sorts, skin luminescent and eyes still so rich and dark. He turns just enough to press a kiss to Yoongi's forehead. Tempting though their reflection in the mirror is, it's always nicer to be able to look at Yoongi directly when he's this close, every lash clear and distinct. "I'm pretty sure it qualified as obsessive, at best, before we were dating. Maybe a little pathetic, back when I'd just met you guys. I don't think most people start memorizing the pattern of the veins on their friend's hand after watching them play piano a couple of times."

Jungkook reaches down for Yoongi's hand, pulling it to his lips as though to prove his point, kissing down the line of each vein as he turns the both of them around, nudging Yoongi back towards the shower. "Wish I was good enough to really capture your likeness on paper. I swear, when I close my eyes, it's — you're perfect. And then I try to make the lines work on paper, and it's..." Jungkook huffs a breath, blowing his bangs out of the way. "Even photos don't do you justice. Not even the selfies you take from bed."

Even on his best days, when Yoongi looks in the mirror and knows with absolute confidence that he is, in all honesty, pretty fucking hot, he doesn't think he's perfect. Everyone has flaws. He tries not to think about his physical imperfections, not when so many of his personal ones haunt him, but they exist. But when Jungkook says it, so soft and earnest, he kind of believes it. Whatever flaws he might have don't stop him from being perfect to the one person whose opinion most matters. Isn't that perfection enough?

"Should I stop sending those then?" he teases, stepping into the shower. He eyes the showerhead warily for a moment, then reaches up to try and twist it away from them before he turns the water on. If it comes out too cold or too hot, he doesn't want to get hit by the stream head-on. Once it's running, he turns his head to kiss Jungkook's cheek. "Still romantic. Just because it's not the way people usually do things... You loved me. I wish I'd known you were memorizing my hands while I was banging out shitty improvisations to express how it was eating me up inside. Might've actually said something." He glances away, still shy even now, as he holds his hand out under the water, testing the temperature, adjusting the faucet to try and warm it up. It all feels so stupid now. Jungkook didn't have much of a choice, falling first, but if Yoongi had known, if he'd just reached out the moment he realized how he felt instead of trying to convince himself it wasn't true or it was somehow corrupting their friendship, if he'd had any idea how much their friendship would only flourish and grow in the light of love... He huffs, rolling his eyes, lip quirking in a lopsided smile. "Maybe not, but I might've."

"If you stop sending those, I'll stop sending mine," Jungkook says without missing a beat. And perhaps that alone is enough to show how confident they are in each other — that Jungkook can now realize how much value the image of himself has to another person, how much happiness he can bring even when they're apart. He shivers when the spray of the shower skims against the side of his arm, nestling himself against Yoongi's warmth instead, crowding the both of them towards the end of the shower that hasn't yet been hit by the water.

The time for joking quickly passes as Yoongi presses a kiss to Jungkook's cheek, as his words take a softer tone, low and quiet in his throat. "Your improvisations were never shitty," he reprimands quietly, tugging up the warm that Yoongi has extended under the water, cold drops slipping off from his fingertips. "Actually, the more you played, the more I fell in love. So maybe it was okay that it took so long. Your music..." Jungkook huffs a laugh, glancing down at their feet, rosy now after sitting underneath the chilly spray. "It's almost like looking in a mirror. I know that on the surface, we're so different — you're cool and I'm clumsy — but when you're playing at the piano, it's like, everything that I feel, the things I don't know how to put into words, they're there. They're there in your music. I told you that I fell in love when I first heard you play the piano, right? I really mean that."

Something in Yoongi's expression wavers, unsteady, a lump rising in his throat. He wants to protest that he's not that cool and Jungkook isn't that clumsy, but that's the least of it. They are different. The same, he thinks, in all the ways that truly count, but different in ways that mean they just complement each other perfectly. Even today, when he's already so happy, a few words from Jungkook are enough to make him feel like the sun's peeking out from behind the clouds, like everything will be okay. Like this happiness will last.

Jungkook thinks he's not as romantic. Jungkook thinks he's no good with words. He doesn't have to be, Yoongi thinks. All he has to do is be honest. Eloquence doesn't mean anything, not the way this does, his heart almost painfully full. He knows so well how powerful music is, the way it can transform everything, say everything, but to know his music can do that, to know he could do that for Jungkook...

He wishes he had a piano now, because he knows he doesn't have the words. Sometimes he wonders how he got so fucking lucky. Times like this, he knows it's because there's no one in the world who makes him make sense the way they do together.

"I guess I better keep playing then," he murmurs, swallowing hard. He can't imagine not playing anyway, not when there have been times he felt like the music was the only thing keeping him alive, but if it's one more thing he can do to make sure Jungkook knows he's never really alone, he'll keep going forever. And to think that Jungkook fell in love so early, loved him so long, through all of his moods, the fights and the flaws, the recklessness and restlessness — that all the time he felt so lost, someone so special was loving him so much — it's almost more than he knows how to bear. He didn't realize it, but it strikes him now; all that time, hurting and lonely, he was never really alone either.

Twisting around to better face Jungkook, he lifts a hand to cradle his cheek, so tender, ignoring the spray of water against his calves as it slowly grows warmer. He falters, mouth open to speak before he knows what to say, and all that comes out is a helpless, almost distressed exhale. "I love you."

"It'd be hard to forgive you if you ever stopped," Jungkook threatens, though his tone is playful. The truth is, he's watched Yoongi enough times while he's composing to know that sometimes, Yoongi needs a break from it all. Being creative may be its own form of release, but it's also exhausting at best — the penance for breathing life into art, for drawing music out of worn wooden keys. Jungkook would never want to saddle Yoongi with the burden of churning music out on demand.

But more often, Jungkook thinks the problem lies in Yoongi's struggle to see his own music as worthy. It's easy to think it lesser than the great compositions of centuries past — that it pales in comparison to the savants, the Mozarts and the Chopins of the world.

It's true that Jungkook feels every swell of emotion from Chopin's nocturnes and Beethoven's sonatas, but he likens that to being touched by poetry. His own thoughts aren't nearly so well-formed. In that respect, the melodies that Yoongi draws from the keys when he thinks no one's listening, those are the most honest, the most raw. Jungkook plays those songs over and over in his head, lines and measures repeated as he leans in, both hands settling on Yoongi's hips as he catches that exhale, breathing Yoongi in.

"I love you," Jungkook murmurs, nudging Yoongi's nose with his own, squeezing Yoongi's sides underneath his palms, skin dragging against skin. "You make me love being alive. Min Yoongi. Love of my life."

Being loved like this is overwhelming, Yoongi finds, his heart too full, beating too fast. Jungkook is so close, close enough that Yoongi can feel his breath when he speaks. He's grateful suddenly that Jungkook is holding him like this, loving but firm, enough to keep him steady. He knows too well how easy it is to get pulled down by the undertow, to want everything just to stop. Loving life is so much harder. That Yoongi can make anyone feel that way, let alone Jungkook, is almost too much for him, too good to imagine when he's spent so long feeling utterly useless.

He's nothing special, not really. A fairly good musician, skilled for his age and inexperience, and a decent student, maybe, but someone who gets into too many fights and keeps to himself too much, who doesn't know how to express the thousand things he feels every day — ordinary, at his best. To know that about himself, to be so sure of it, and then to be faced with this evidence of having done something extraordinary is almost too much for him to bear.

"Your only love," he points out, cheeks flushing. It doesn't actually soften the sentiment any; if anything, there's a power in knowing he's the first and the last person Jungkook will ever fall in love with. Thumb stroking over Jungkook's cheek, he shakes his head minutely. "I'm glad I'm here. I — you make me so happy. I don't know what to do, you make me so happy." Has he ever been so happy? Has he ever felt so loved, so cherished? It's almost too much happiness. It scares him a little suddenly, to be flying so high — too close to the sun, maybe. He'd never survive losing this. He slips his free hand into Jungkook's hair, pulling him into a kiss, craving even more physical reassurance. They're here. They aren't going anywhere.

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