lovestrippedbare | 𝕡𝕚𝕫𝕫𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕠

Entry tags:

yoongi

𝕡𝕚𝕫𝕫𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕠

There was a time when their classroom was the safest destination Jungkook could think of. A place of solace, a refuge that he could retreat to when the other pressures of the day were too much. When Jungkook closes his eyes and conjures up images of happiness, there are many that come to mind — with his fingers gently stroking ivory keys in a quiet living room, the steady sound of a knife against a chopping block, the sight of weathered hands kneading dough. The whisper of tangled limbs sliding between sheets, the rush of breath through parted lips.

But the classroom was the first, the place where Jungkook first found a family that was all his own.

And there gets to be a point when it's all too much, when being told to stay away feels like it's carving out another empty space in Jungkook's heart. He knows that time is already working against them; it'll be a mere matter of months until some of them are away at university, when the sheer pressure of class and location will keep them apart. Losing time even before then feels cruel.

It starts off as a simple request to visit the bathroom. A chance to get away from the day's inspection, the endless recitation of lines, and to breathe. But when Jungkook needs to take a right, he continues walking straight, his eyes impossibly wide and his feet picking up the pace as he rushes down the hall and down a flight of stairs, weaving around the quietest aisles until he finds himself standing in front of the well-worn classroom door. The handle is rusty, and the chilly draft from inside almost whistles through the gap under the door.

But with it comes music, and Jungkook's expression finally relaxes into a smile.

He doesn't say a word as he slips through the door, shutting it with a gentle click behind him. Before the teacher learned of this space, Jungkook might have simply made his way over to Yoongi's side, freely interrupting whatever piece he was working on. These days, to even finish a score feels like a luxury, and so Jungkook carefully tiptoes around the room, lifting a couple of desks and pushing them together.

Jungkook suppresses a shiver, the cold of the desktop seeping through his school uniform, before stretching himself out over the desks with a content smile.

At least for today, he thinks, the classroom is their safe space again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's easier for him to stay away, Yoongi thinks, than it is for some of the others. He misses it when they don't gather together here, misses the time away from his makeshift family, but they always find their way back to each other, and he has his own piano at home. That, at least, is its own safe space. Not all of them have that luxury of somewhere to escape to at home.

He's lucky in that way, he supposes. If his father ignores him, at least he doesn't shout or hit like some fathers do. For now, in fact, his father even seems satisfied with him, pleased that Yoongi's work has paid off and gotten him into a good school. That's really all it was for, in the end, Yoongi knows. Or, at least, it was for years nothing but a way to make his father proud and draw his attention. Now that education is a key to unlocking their future.

Two years. Two years and then Jungkook will be out, too, and they'll be free. That's hardly anything. The last six and a half months have already flown by. Two years will disappear like nothing.

But with his college acceptance secured, classes seem less and less important these days, and when there's any chance, Yoongi takes advantage to escape to the classroom. He's lost in the music when the door opens, barely glancing back to see who's joined him. The sight of Jungkook draws a smile to his lips, but he keeps playing, turning back to the keys, the melody restless and longing. Soon he'll be out in the world. Soon nothing will be left to get in their way.

In some ways, it's nice to get the opportunity to listen to the measures before they even speak. Musical notes can express in fewer beats what paragraphs of words can't, and Jungkook closes his eyes as he listens to the rhythm of Yoongi's play, one that keeps time but just barely — almost as though it's drawing the listener on the edge of their seat, waiting for something. Constantly waiting. It's not hard to imagine why Yoongi might feel impatient these days, his graduation looming and a good university waiting on the horizon.

It feels slightly bittersweet, knowing that Yoongi will no longer be on campus come fall, but Jungkook knows that there's a positive side to it as well. Yoongi heading for university marks the passage of time, progression down the two more years they have to wait. It's only two years. They'll have the time to visit one another, they'll have classwork to keep them busy.

He's humming under his breath, following the melody with his hands clasped on his stomach, when the classroom door starts to squeak. It's probably one of the other boys, Jungkook figures — Seokjin who's also on the cusp of graduation. Maybe Taehyung, who's never felt as constrained by rules.

Either way, Jungkook pays the sound no immediate mind, wanting to simply relax until Yoongi finishes his piece.

Edited 2019-02-10 03:45 (UTC)

If it were one of the other boys, Yoongi might have gotten distracted and stopped playing. With Jungkook, there's no need to stop or even hesitate; the music says as much as any words could. They're so close to the end of the school year, and as much as Yoongi knows he'll miss sharing their school hours, he's excited, too, to start figuring out his future. Their future.

He's so lost in the music, he nearly misses the sound of someone at the door. The telltale rattle of the knob, though, cuts through the notes, and Yoongi glances back, curious which of the other boys has come to join them.

"Shit," he hisses. It only takes a glance for him to know this isn't one of them. "Teacher. Gguk —" He scrambles from his seat and into the corner between the piano and the wall, praying it's cover enough, that Jungkook isn't far behind. It's probably hopeless. The piano must have given them away, so the teacher will be looking for at least one person here. Still, he closes his eyes and hopes. When things are going so well, the last thing he needs is to get in trouble and have them call his dad.

When the music stops playing, Jungkook's eyes blink open. He'd been so deeply caught up in the melody that comprehension dawns only crucial seconds later — that Yoongi was calling for Jungkook to join him, that Yoongi was warning him of the teacher's approach. By the time Jungkook pushes himself up on his elbow, he knows it's too late, the teacher's shadow already blocking the ceiling light.

So he freezes, because it could be worse. Because at least a glance at the piano tells him that Yoongi managed to slip away somewhere, and that's all that's needed. Jungkook is young enough and has been caught rarely enough that he won't get too much more than a scolding, he thinks, possibly a phone call home.

This is okay.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

He sits further up, eyes wide and fixed on the teacher's face, the usually stern but handsome features twisted into something ugly. Jungkook keeps his shoulders straight, slips his legs off the side of the desk, and the scene plays out in his head — he'll bow deeply, he won't protest against any of the scolding, he'll follow the teacher right out of the room and—

—Jungkook hears it before he feels it, a sudden clap and a ringing in his ear that send him staggering to the side, barely managing to stay upright. A metallic taste on his tongue.

That will bruise, he thinks distantly.

Fuck. From his place beside the piano, the angle keeps Yoongi in the clear, but it also means he can't see what's happening. He doesn't have to, though, sound conveying all he needs to know. Jungkook's name sends a chill through him said like that, cold and angry, but he stays put. As much as he feels like a coward for it, he knows Jungkook is less likely to get in trouble than he is. He's had too many run-ins in the past, picked too many fights, and if they call his father —

The next sound cracks through the quiet of the classroom, a blow landing hard, and Yoongi doesn't think anymore. He clambers to his feet, scrambling out of his hiding place and crossing the few feet between them to step between Jungkook and the teacher before he can strike Jungkook again. The next one falls against Yoongi's lifted arm, sharp and stinging, but Yoongi doesn't pay it much attention. He's lost in the crystal clarity of what comes next.

"Don't touch him," he growls, poised between them, wild and furious. Too many people have hit Jungkook already. He's not going to let even a teacher get in a second try when, for once, he can do something about it. He draws his arm back and punches as hard as he can, head buzzing and blood pounding as the teacher staggers back, as much stunned as he is injured, gingerly touching his cheek as if to check the damage. Distantly, Yoongi thinks, This is bad, but he can't bring himself to care. Instead he shifts his stance, ready to hit again if he has to.

When he brings his arms up again, he's expecting another blow. He's not expecting a hand to grasp his arm so tightly, dragging him forward. "Min Yoongi," the teacher snaps, "principal's office, now."

Is it the ringing in Jungkook's ear that delays the reaction? He's not sure. Already, his mind sets the scene on loop, replaying every detail in his mind, his eyes widening as he watches Yoongi emerge from behind the piano. It's wrong, it's all wrong — Yoongi shouldn't be coming out from his hiding place, there's no need for the both of them to be punished. Jungkook can handle this; he's handled so much worse.

"Y-Yoongi, no—" he stammers, hand reaching out but only grasping as air, face blanching when Yoongi's fist makes contact with the teacher's face. Only once the blow's already landed does Jungkook manage to reach Yoongi, his hand finding purchase on Yoongi's sleeve, sliding down to try and reach Yoongi's hand.

But before Jungkook can, the teacher tugs Yoongi forward, breaking the contact between the boys.

No, Jungkook thinks, no, no, this is wrong, this is—

"Teacher, please," he chokes out, shaking his head as he frantically rushes forward, bowing low and deep. "Please, he didn't mean it, he made a mistake — he was just protecting me, but it was all my idea to come here, it was my idea to come to the classroom, Teacher, please. It's my fault, please don't punish him."

—this is too little, too late.

"That's not true," Yoongi protests. "I came here first. Alone." It takes all his strength to keep from insisting it wasn't a mistake either. Maybe it was misplaced, some of his anger; maybe he's been dying to throw a punch since the night he first found out that Jungkook's father hits him. It doesn't matter. He'd do it again.

Right now, though, he doesn't fight. No doubt doing so would only make things worse. He can argue it to the principal, point out that it was only a matter of defending Jungkook. Here and now, though, he won't let himself make this worse and he won't let Jungkook get in trouble for what he's done.

"I don't care who was first," the teacher snaps. "You're both coming with me." And Yoongi knows, something sinking in his gut, that this is it. He didn't just hurt teacher; he wounded his pride, too, and somehow Yoongi doubts the man will just let it go.

He glances back at Jungkook, apologetic, as he's dragged out of the classroom. As much as he wants to reach back for Jungkook, he keeps his hands to himself, curled into fists, knuckles stinging. They don't need to do anything that will get back to Jungkook's father, however desperately Yoongi finds himself wanting comfort.

He'll be lucky if they only suspend him.

Looking over his shoulder back to Jungkook, his stomach turns again at the expression on the other boy's face. All he wanted — all he wants — is to protect him, and he can't even manage that. I'm sorry, he mouths. I love you.

The unforgiving sharpness of the teacher's tone cuts through to the quick, and Jungkook can't stop the panic that spills forth. This is wrong, he thinks over and over, but perhaps more importantly, it's been wrong for months. It's been wrong since the day they found out that Seokjin gave up the location of the classroom to the teacher, from that day the staff began watching for the times any of the seven disappeared. It's been wrong since the day Namjoon decided to leave without so much as a warning, whittling them down from seven to six. They've been off-balance for months, only barely managing to stay afloat.

And now this.

He's learned to hold back tears even during the most searing of pain, but the look on Yoongi's face is more than Jungkook can handle. I love you, he mouths back, and it feels wrong again — like a parting. Even as a couple of tears spill free, Jungkook casts a wary glance at the teacher before stepping forward, reaching for Yoongi's free hand, letting their fingers lace together. His eyes remain fixed on the teacher, ready to release Yoongi's hand at the slightest hint of movement, whenever the teacher decides he needs to check to see if the younger is following.

Jungkook squeezes Yoongi's hand. This has to be okay, this has to fix itself. The future isn't allowed to while itself away over a single slip.

Yoongi's lips part in a silent gasp at the familiar feeling of Jungkook's fingers slipping between his own, guilt washing over him. If he gets in trouble now — when he gets in trouble — he knows Jungkook is going to feel awful for it, and he hates putting him through that. Still, he knows, if he could turn back time and try again, he'd just do the same thing. There's shame in his chest, pulling tight, but there's pride, too, and relief. He finally got his chance to defend Jungkook. He'd take all the blows dealt out to his boyfriend if he could. It's not a big deal. He's been in enough fights to know he can take a punch, and he'd be happy just knowing Jungkook was safe.

He squeezes Jungkook's hand back, a gentle pressure, a promise this is okay. It isn't, but he can pretend. Whatever punishment they want to dole out for this, suspension, weeks of detention, he'll take it. As long as they don't hurt Jungkook, he'll take it.

It isn't long before they make their way across campus to the principal's office, where the teacher directs them to sit while he goes to the desk to ask to see the principal. His tone is cold fury and Yoongi closes his eyes like that might shut out the sound and the panic it causes. He's been in trouble too many times, he thinks. They won't go easy on him. Still, he strokes his thumb gently across the back of Jungkook's hand, attempting to reassure. He doesn't dare say a word and provoke the teacher farther.

The door to the principal's office opens and Yoongi sets his jaw, trying not to let his fear show as he gets to his feet.

There are countless things that Jungkook wants to say to Yoongi as the both of them wait in the space outside of the principal's office. That Yoongi shouldn't have come to Jungkook's defense. That Yoongi should have stayed hidden and out of the way. Jungkook can't imagine any outcome here that will have made Yoongi's intervention worth it, and his ears burn now with the shame of having brought this on Yoongi — if only he hadn't gone to the classroom right then, then the very worst might have been that Yoongi would have been found there, but there'd be no thrown punches, no threats made to the staff. If Jungkook hadn't gone, maybe his absence from class wouldn't have tipped the teacher off.

Foolish. He was so foolish, heading there without a second thought and purely for selfish reasons.

But there's a part of Jungkook that feels something almost like gratitude as well, however twisted the emotion is. Gratitude for the fact that Yoongi cared enough to defend Jungkook. It shows in the way Jungkook grips Yoongi's hand when no one's watching, his own trembling and uncharacteristically pale. Today is far from the first time Jungkook's been hit by a teacher, but this is the first time he's ever witnessed someone hitting back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers just before the door opens again, the shock of it nearly causing Jungkook to jump. His hand falls away when Yoongi gets to his feet, and Jungkook does his best to follow suit, but the teacher gives Jungkook a glare of a warning.

"Jungkook, you'll wait here until after we're done," he says, tone brokering no argument.

Yoongi wants to protest, to tell Jungkook not to be sorry; he made a choice and he would make it again and again. It's hard enough to see the bruises after the fact. He couldn't stomach being in the room and not doing something. There's nothing to apologize for.

He doesn't have time. The door opens and he gets to his feet, chest tight with worry. He can't regret what he's done, but already he regrets the consequences. Whatever punishment they choose, though, he'll have to bear. As long as they don't hurt Jungkook, he tells himself, he can handle it.

Teacher has been stern enough, a bright anger clearly bubbling under the cold exterior, but the principal seems to Yoongi even worse. He understands why their teacher would be furious, even if he's wrong. But the principal is impassive, ready to sit in judgment, and Yoongi suspects no amount of pleading will help him now. He bows deeply, head lowered, trying his best to seem apologetic.

It occurs to him he hasn't actually apologized. "I'm sorry, sir," he starts, and he's hardly done before the teacher interrupts.

"Oh, now you're sorry."

"Please," Yoongi says, "he was hurting Jungkook."

"And that gives you the authority to hit a teacher?" the principal asks, brow raising. "We've put up with enough fights out of you, but a line has to be drawn, Yoongi. You can't just hit a teacher. He had a right to discipline this other boy. Neither of you are meant to be in that classroom."

"I understand that —"

"Then why were you there?"

Yoongi winces. No explanation he has will satisfy them, he knows. "I just... wanted to play the piano."

"You don't come to school to play piano," the principal scolds. "You come to get an education."

Yoongi bows his head again. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"No," the principal says, and Yoongi's heart tightens, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "It won't. As of today, Min Yoongi, I'm afraid we have to expel you."

"No, please —"

"Hitting a teacher cannot be overlooked or forgiven," he says firmly. From the corner of his eye, Yoongi can see teacher smirking, satisfied with the outcome, and Yoongi wonders if he could get away with punching him again.

"But hitting a student is okay," he snaps, eyes widening a moment later, and he tries to coax his tone into something more obedient. "I'm sorry, I really am. I shouldn't have done it." He'd do it again a hundred times over. "Please, suspend me, but don't expel me. I'm so close to graduating —"

"Not anymore," snipes the teacher, and Yoongi's hands curl into fists.

"I won't be able to go to university if I don't graduate."

"It gives me no pleasure to do this," sighs the principal, "but we cannot tolerate such behavior. We'll call your father and have him take you home. Please collect your things from your locker. Then come back here to wait for him."

"I can walk home," Yoongi says, flat and defeated. "You don't need to bother him at work."

"We do still have to call him," the principal says, shaking his head. "But you can walk if you prefer." As if Yoongi's preferences matter at all. Yoongi would prefer to go back in time and do it again, but harder and more. If he's going to be expelled — and the sentence hardly seems real yet — then he wishes he'd gotten in a few more punches. "You're dismissed. Send in the other one."

Teacher reaches for his arm to drag him out again but Yoongi sidesteps, hurrying for the door, panic rising in his throat.

His father is going to kill him for this.

He can barely look at Jungkook now, afraid of the worry he'll see on his face, afraid it'll be enough to make him breakdown when he's barely holding himself together. "Your turn," he says, resting a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "I'll wait for you."

Jungkook isn't sure how much time passes with Yoongi in the principal's office. He can't bring himself to look at the clock, can't strain enough to hear the words, and so Jungkook sits with his head bowed over his knees, staring at his hands, which can't seem to stop trembling no matter how much he tries. Yoongi hit a teacher, and not a very forgiving one at that — and Jungkook knows that Yoongi's gotten into plenty of trouble before, that his reputation precedes him in the same sort of way that Taehyung's does. What kind of leniency would they want to offer a student like that, even if they've gotten into a good university?

The turn of the door knob jolts Jungkook back into the present, lips parted as he gets to his feet, trying to interpret the look on Yoongi's face. It's not good, and that alone sends Jungkook's stomach plummeting. If it were simply a matter of punishment, Yoongi would probably smile, something reassuring to let Jungkook know that it was worth it alone for the look on the teacher's face.

There's none of that now.

"Jeon Jungkook," the teacher snaps again, and Jungkook turns his gaze warily towards the office. Barely manages to lift his hand in time to squeeze Yoongi's before he has to pull away, stepping into the office with leaden feet and his cheeks tingling.

The first thing he does is bow, at the waist and with his hands folded neatly over his stomach.

"I'm so sorry, sir." A half-turn, in the teacher's direction. "I'm so very sorry."

There's a sigh that draws Jungkook's gaze back to the principal, his hands folded neatly and resting on top of the desk.

"Jungkook-ssi, your teacher tells me that he's been seeing a very troubling pattern of tardiness and truancy over this past year."

Jungkook gapes for a moment, then bows his head again. "I'm very sorry, sir."

"I've worked with enough students that I can see you're not a troublemaker by nature, Jungkook, but the company that you've been keeping lately gives me great concern. They're a bad influence on you," the principal continues.

"Which is why I warned you away from that classroom in the first place, Jungkook," adds the teacher, who takes a step forward, almost hovering directly in front of Jungkook.

"They're good people," Jungkook exhales, his tone pleading as he shakes his head. "Yoongi-seonbae, he's been tutoring me — you can see, my grades in the past semester alone—"

"—would be helped as much if you actually dedicated the right amount of time to yaja," the principal counters, his jaw growing increasingly set. "We offer plenty of resources for tutoring, Jungkook. We're here to prepare you for university, and eventually having a stable job. Better grades aren't the whole of what you need for a sustainable lifestyle."

He feels dizzy, the words slipping over him like a trickle of cold water. "What's going to happen to Yoongi-seonbae?"

"Aish, you should be more worried about yourself!" the teacher snaps, picking up a folder and bringing it down on Jungkook's forehead with a slap.

"Min Yoongi's punishment is a matter between him and the school," the principal interrupts, giving the teacher a pointed look before turning his gaze back on Jungkook. "Jeon Jungkook, you will be given two weeks' worth of detention, subject to change or suspension if you skip any session or if you're found to be truant again."

It's light. It's a light punishment, perhaps one that his parents won't even notice, but that only makes Jungkook's head swim more as he looks over his shoulder at the door. Distracted, he bows again to the principal.

"Thank you, sir. May I be excused?"

The teacher clucks his tongue while the principal nods with a quick wave of his hand, and Jungkook scrambles for the door knob before stumbling out of the office, eyes searching for Yoongi.

It isn't easy to sit and wait, to stay put with his thoughts. Yoongi would rather bolt. Maybe, he thinks distantly, maybe his father can talk him out of this. They might listen to a parent's pleas over a student's. But he doubts it. He's not even sure his father will try. Maybe he'll just be so disappointed in Yoongi he doesn't say a word. Maybe he'll turn him out, a burden that should have been coming to an end anyway. He's fucking stupid. It doesn't matter how good his grades are or what school he got into; he's still a fucking idiot, thinking anything good could come of assaulting a teacher.

He trains his gaze on the principal's door, uneasy. He'd still do it again. He's half-tempted to go ahead, to launch himself at the teacher the moment he emerges, to take his frustrations out on someone who deserves it. It's not like he's never received corporal punishment or like it's that unusual. Jungkook has been through it, too. That doesn't make it right.

He doesn't want to add assault charges to his expulsion, though. He'll keep his hands to himself, he decides.

But what would it matter? argues the voice in his head. You have no future either way.

He's been dreaming for months of what lies ahead of him, of the life they're going to build. And now this. Now he has nothing to contribute, no way to provide for Jungkook or even to afford a place where they can stay. Now he has nothing.

The door opens and Jungkook emerges. Yoongi springs to his feet, still unsettled, afraid to tell Jungkook what's happened, if he doesn't already know. He steps hurriedly forward to take his hand, and it's only the presence of others that keeps him from pulling Jungkook close instead. In moments, the teacher might emerge, and he doesn't want to be here when that happens, so he starts toward the door, heading out into the hall before he speaks. "Are you okay?"

It's a relief to see that Yoongi's still there, as promised, and Jungkook does his best to steel himself against tears as he reaches out for Yoongi's hand. He follows readily as Yoongi leads him out to the hallway, an exhale practically punched from his lungs once they have some semblance of privacy. His heart still hammers in his chest, blood pounding in his ears, but none of that stops Jungkook from raising a hand and cupping Yoongi's jaw, searching his expression for any indication that things will be okay.

He hates that what he finds instead is panic.

"I'm okay," he reassures quickly with a shake of his head, keeping his voice low and hushed to avoid any eavesdropping. "They let me off easy." It's only detention, he adds in his mind, but he doesn't want to specify the punishment yet until he knows what Yoongi's received. There's no way that the staff went as easy on Yoongi as they did on Jungkook.

Jungkook licks his lips, voice dying for a moment in his throat before he shakes his head again. "What about you? They wouldn't tell me — they wouldn't tell me anything," Jungkook whispers. "What punishment are they giving you?"

It isn't just a punishment, Yoongi thinks. It's a life sentence. One stupid punch and they've condemned him to a lifetime of struggling. Of his father's anger and shame. He closes his eyes, leaning into Jungkook's touch. It's hard right now to care if anyone sees him. It's only for Jungkook's sake it would matter now anyway.

He doesn't want to say it. He doesn't want to see the way Jungkook's expression will change, the guilt and the pity. The longer he's quiet, though, the more it speaks for itself, so he reaches out, hands settling at Jungkook's waist and shakes his head, steeling himself. "They expelled me," he says, throat tight. His instinct is to apologize; the future isn't something that belongs to him alone anymore, and he's done something that's going to affect them both.

What kinds of jobs can he get if he doesn't even graduate from high school? Will they still be able to find a home? To have a family?

What will Jungkook's mother think of him now?

He steps back, unsteady, leaning against the lockers, but he tries hard to keep his voice even, nonchalant, though there's no real pretending he's okay. "I'm done. Told me to pack my shit and get out."

"...what?"

Jungkook must have misheard. Right? Yoongi's grades are good, he's been accepted to a good university. They wouldn't turn him out over a single punch when graduation is only a month away. Right?

His face blanches, the breath punched out of him as Yoongi steps back and leans against the lockers, and Jungkook doesn't even hesitate to follow. Finds that he doesn't care if anyone sees as he brings his hands to a rest at Yoongi's waist, then lifts one to cup Yoongi's jaw again, his expression beseeching.

"They can't — they can't do that, they can't do that so close to graduation, what the fuck," he breathes, shaking his head. "No, there must be some way to appeal the decision, that took all of what, ten minutes? There's no way — we've gotta talk to your dad, someone, I'll walk back in there myself, this is — this is unfair."

Jungkook leans back and glances at the door to the principal's office, somehow dimmer and more imposing than it was a moment before. His heart pounds, trying to beat its way out of his chest, and Jungkook finds himself swimming in guilt. If only he hadn't gone to the classroom. If he had paid closer attention, noticed the teacher's approach, even just ducked in time to avoid the blow—

—but now, Yoongi's been expelled. And it's all Jungkook's fault.

Yoongi bites the tip of his tongue, steadying himself, as he reaches to rest his hands on Jungkook's arms, thumb stroking gently. "I know," he says, "it is, it's unfair. I don't know, I guess it was just one fight too many. But my dad can talk to them. Maybe they'll change their minds."

Even as he says it, he doubts it. He has been in too many fights, even if it's been a while. He hasn't felt the urge to get into trouble as much since they started dating. Still, his history speaks for itself, and, even if it didn't, hitting a teacher is always a bad idea. He's not sure that's the kind of thing they ever just give suspension or detention for.

It's hard to fight the rising panic at what this means for his — for their — future, but he pushes it back as much as he can. Jungkook is upset, and comforting him helps Yoongi put his own fears aside for now. Holding each other like this is dangerous when anyone might come out and see them, but he doesn't care. It steadies Yoongi to have Jungkook holding him. He has a clear mission, something he needs to do, and it helps him break through the fog and the anxiety. Pushing up on his toes, he presses a kiss to Jungkook's forehead.

"We'll figure it out, okay?"

It's been a while since Jungkook's felt quite this young, this helpless, his eyes lingering on Yoongi's expression and wondering why he's the one who can't seem to keep it together right now. He's not being expelled. The punishment for him is so light that it's almost laughable, and yet Jungkook can feel grief settling in his body — the way his throat feels too tight, the way the corners of his eyes burn. He lets out a shaky exhale when Yoongi presses a kiss to his forehead, then closes the distance, wrapping his arms tightly around Yoongi's shoulders.

He can't tell which one of them is trembling.

Even with the minute amount of distance, Jungkook already feels doubts creeping in; he can't begin to picture Yoongi's father actually fighting on behalf of his son. Maybe in time, they'd be able to find another high school that will take Yoongi in, that will allow him to attend at least in name, give him something with which to apply to university again. But it all feels like a long shot — requiring luck on top of luck.

"If they don't change their minds... let's just run," Jungkook breathes, his hands grasping at the fabric of Yoongi's shirt. "We'll figure it out, right? We'll make it work. We can get jobs, we'll go somewhere with lower rent."

Yoongi sinks into Jungkook's embrace, burying his face against his shoulder, breathing him in. He focuses on that, inhaling and exhaling, the familiar scent of Jungkook's skin against his nose. It would steady him in time, he's pretty sure. All the other times he's been nervous or scared or felt broken... It's not that this has been enough exactly. It's just that Jungkook's presence is innately grounding for him. He's a refuge, a shelter. For the last several months, he's let himself believe that, anything that comes their way, they can solve it together; that the world is a problem that can be tackled and unraveled and put back together just so, as long as they're the ones doing it.

"Just us in the middle of nowhere," he says, and he wants it so fucking badly. Just for a moment, it's so tempting. He has money set aside. He's been saving whatever he can in case they need to leave. They could do it. Leave behind their homes and start over somewhere new...

Without their friends. Without degrees. Without the mother Jungkook adores so deeply.

He shakes his head, drawing back to look at Jungkook again. "We can't do that," he says. "I'm not asking you to quit school for me. Or leave your mother." He's the one who fucked up. Why should Jungkook be punished for what Yoongi's done? It wouldn't be right. "Besides, at least one of us should get to graduate. I'll be fine."

It doesn't feel anything remotely like fine. All these months, he's thought that the worst thing that could happen would be his father figuring out Jungkook is his boyfriend before Yoongi's ready to set off for university. It never occurred to him he might not get to go, and now he doesn't know what would be worse, getting kicked out or having to stay with nowhere else to turn, no end in sight, a vast future of silence.

Even though running away has never been Jungkook's plan, there's a part of him that yearns for it immediately — to run away somewhere far, somewhere they can shed all of the burdens that have been holding them back for so long. Somewhere secluded, where they might have to tend their own gardens and till their own soil, but where there won't be this lingering obligation to their families, no need to pretend that they're something that they're not. Jungkook's always preferred the countryside anyhow; Seoul can be suffocating at best.

So his stomach flips when Yoongi echoes the thought, his voice low and muffled against Jungkook's shoulder. Just us in the middle of nowhere. It sounds beautiful — almost like a dream.

But then Yoongi's shaking his head, and Jungkook feels his heart plummet with the motion.

"I know you're not asking that," Jungkook exhales, his voice on the cusp of a whine. "I'm — it's my idea, it'd be my choice. My mom will be fine. She hasn't needed me in a really long time, and it's not like I wouldn't visit. They don't need me to be... whatever, they've got Yeongwook already."

There's one phrase that keeps repeating itself in Jungkook's ears: I'll be fine. Something about it digs under Jungkook's skin.

"We'll be fine," he corrects Yoongi, both of his hands cupping gently on either side of Yoongi's neck, soft desperation in his tone. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it together. Okay? Promise me. We'll figure it out, no matter what it takes."

Before he knows what's happening, Yoongi feels the dampness at his eyes, tears gathering as he takes in the sound of Jungkook's voice and the fevered desperation in his expression. He would do it. If Yoongi asked, he knows, Jungkook would follow him anywhere. And he wants that. It's a stupid, stupid idea, the pair of them running off with no degrees and no plan, but that doesn't stop him from wishing it were a little more plausible. That they could just disappear and be together with nothing to get in the way.

But it's not a good idea, not really. He can't even imagine how they'd stay afloat on the meager savings he's gathered over these last few months. They need something solid and practical, a real plan, and Yoongi grasps blindly at the beginnings of ideas, but nothing really comes to mind. There's just the vast, empty void where his future once stood and a terrible helplessness. Jungkook is hurting and once again, there's nothing he can do to fix it, even though he'd lay down his life for him if it came to it. That would be easy. Standing here, watching the rising panic, that's hard.

"We will," he says, trying hard to sound steady. "We will. I promise. I love you. More than anything. We'll figure this out. Okay?" His hand comes up to cover Jungkook's, head turning to press a kiss just above the ring he's worn since Christmas. They aren't going anywhere. This is permanent and real, the only thing keeping him as grounded as he is right now, though that's not saying much. "But running away is a last resort. There's got to be something else, okay? I don't need to graduate to be a musician, right?"

When Yoongi takes on the language, shifting to 'we' instead of 'I,' Jungkook feels himself calm down, if only by a fraction. In the wake of panic there also comes a gradual heaviness, guilt and regret mingled with something else, almost suffocating in its nature. Because no matter what happens, Yoongi is the one who will first be saddled with finding a way out and a way to survive. Yoongi is the one who's being forced to scramble and make sense out of the pieces left behind after his punishment.

Jungkook can try all he likes to share the burden, but there's only so much that he can do, being so young himself, being without any real amount of independence.

Had this happened months ago, going to Seokjin would have been the easiest answer. But the tie that binds Seokjin to the group seems to be diminishing with every day, thinned out as it was by Namjoon's departure. To rely on Seokjin now feels like asking too much of a favor.

Still, Jungkook thinks to himself, perhaps eventually it's worth a shot.

"I love you, too. More than anything," Jungkook mumbles, staring at his ring before meeting Yoongi's gaze again. "We'll figure it out. You'd make a great musician — you could even, like, teach lessons too. And I'm sure there's always part-time jobs if we don't figure it out right away. But we'll be okay."

Trying to sort it out now only makes Yoongi feel worse. The future is just a jumbled mix of what ifs, all the possibilities scattered. It's hard for him to find any kind of a path through it, as if the clear road he envisioned before has grown over with brambles, sharp and raw, leading only to a dead end. It makes him uneasy, skin crawling, though he tries to steel himself against the growing panic.

Maybe it won't matter. Maybe his father will just kill him and save them the trouble of coming up with an answer.

That's not going to happen and he knows it, and he can't wish for that kind of thing anymore, not really. The language is in his head, old defaults, but it lacks the depth, the venom. He can't hurt himself or wish for a way out without hurting Jungkook, too.

"I could," he agrees, nodding. "Lessons. That's something." He's not sure he has the patience to teach anyone who doesn't take it seriously like Jungkook does, but he could learn. He could figure it out. This doesn't have to be as bleak as it seems, he tells himself. They've always said that, whatever comes next, they'll handle it together. As long as that's true, as long as it's both of them in this together, it can't be that terrible, can it? There must be some answer he's overlooking, his breath a little too shallow, his heart a little too fast. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Jungkook's, seeking comfort, making an unspoken promise. "See, we've got ideas already. I'll work and save and help you study. It's gonna be fine."

If his father doesn't decide he's too much of a disappointment to keep around.

Jungkook nods, gentle for fear of breaking contact with Yoongi's forehead. For a little while, the two of them simply stand, with the soft echo of voices in the distance, students and teachers still going about their day with no clue that anything's happened. The normalcy is calming, but it also makes Jungkook feel a touch sick, knowing that at least for a while, nothing is going to be right.

And it's your fault, his mind repeats over and over, like a mantra. It's your fault, you went to the classroom. You didn't dodge in time. He was protecting you.

A shaky inhale pulls through Jungkook's lips, and he reaches for Yoongi's hands again with his own, thumbs brushing their usual patterns against Yoongi's palms. Better to focus on Yonogi's words — on the belief, however shaky yet, that they'll figure out a plan. Something will form out of all of the strewn pieces.

As long as they have each other, it'll work out somehow.

"It's gonna be fine," Jungkook agrees, his gaze unfocused, vaguely searching for any movement in his periphery before he leans in to press a soft kiss to Yoongi's lips. For so long, Jungkook had been afraid of letting anything slip, of anyone seeing them at school like this. Now, against the backdrop of expulsion, those fears feel ridiculous.

"I wanna leave with you," Jungkook sighs softly. "But I need to go back to class." He pauses, on the cusp of asking to visit Yoongi later, but — maybe the sight of Jungkook wouldn't be welcome to Yoongi's father, not after a day like this.

"When can I see you later? Can I call you tonight?" Jungkook asks, glancing up, his gaze imploring.

Edited 2019-02-17 20:28 (UTC)

Yoongi feels as if he's practically vibrating, torn between wanting to get away from here and wanting to stay with Jungkook. He can't; he doesn't really have a say in that. If anyone catches him hanging around for much longer —

Well, there won't be much they can do to him, but he doesn't want Jungkook getting in more trouble.

Then Jungkook kisses him, so soft, so sweet, that Yoongi nearly breaks down anyway. He doesn't want to leave. Leaving makes this real. Leaving means going back to his silent house and his furious father, leaving behind the tenuous safety he has here. When he feels like this, miserable and defeated, the only comfort he knows is here with Jungkook, and he can't even have that for much longer.

He squeezes Jungkook's hands and nods. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Please. Call me. And I — I don't know. I assume I'm getting grounded, so it might be a little while. I can try to sneak out, though." At least his father always goes to bed early. Surely he can slip out while his dad sleeps and meet up, if only for a little while. "I'll let you know." When his heart aches like this, it's more than usually hard to pull away from Jungkook. He barely manages it, drawing back just enough to kiss him on the forehead, on the cheek, briefly on the lips. "I love you. It's gonna be okay."

Getting grounded. Of course. Jungkook's been so fixated on the problem of the expulsion that he hasn't fully considered just how upset Yoongi's father might be — that as much as Jungkook hopes that Yoongi's father will fight the unfair punishment, it's still not going to come without consequence. There's little chance of his father understanding why Yoongi decided to throw a punch at a teacher. Even if it was in defense of another student.

Jungkook can feel his hands trembling; he does his best to still the movement, focusing on the squeeze of Yoongi's hands. He has to be strong, has to make sure that he doesn't put even more of a burden on Yoongi than he has already. Every now and again, a deeper exhale falls from his lips, ragged. It's all wrong. If only they could turn the clock back a couple of hours.

It's all wrong.

"I'll come to you if sneaking out is too dangerous. It might be better that way," Jungkook points out, shaking his head. "Because if your dad checks up on you in your room..."

The thought is interrupted as Yoongi leans in for a couple of kisses, each granting silent absolution.

"I love you, Yoongi," Jungkook replies, leaning back in, his lips clumsy against the corner of Yoongi's mouth. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out; I'll call you tonight."

On an impulse, Yoongi pulls his hands away, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Jungkook in a hug instead. He just looks so hopeless and it doesn't feel right or fair. Usually, it's Jungkook making Yoongi feel better when everything seems impossibly awful. In a way, though, the reversal is a blessing. If Jungkook's upset, it's easier for Yoongi to be strong. His own panic may not subside, but it's more easily pushed away to be visited and turned over endlessly when he's alone.

"I love you," he murmurs again. That's why this had to happen, and he prays Jungkook will understand. He couldn't stand by and watch someone hurt Jungkook when he loves him so fucking much. This is how it had to be. He may regret the consequences, but he couldn't live with himself if he'd just hidden. Fingers carding through Jungkook's hair, he breathes him in, lingering — longer than he should, he knows, but it's so hard to let go when he needs comforting, too.

Pulling back, he sighs. "We'd better go." The last thing he wants is for Jungkook to get into more trouble. "I'll talk to you later." With one more kiss pressed to Jungkook's cheek, he forces himself to pull away and head down the hall for his locker. Glancing back at Jungkook as he goes, he forces a small smile, stomach twisting with anxiety. They'll figure something out, he tells himself again. But he's not sure it'll ever really be okay.

The hug is the last grain on the tipping scale as Jungkook finds his breath suddenly punched from his lungs, a couple of tears slipping free before he can stop them. He inhales, breath wavering and uneven, trying to grasp after any semblance of calm, but it's hard. It's hard when Jungkook wishes that he could leave now with Yoongi, whether to Yoongi's house or anywhere else — when he wishes that he could head directly to Yoongi's father, kneel and explain everything that's happened, explain that Yoongi really shouldn't be blamed for anything. That Yoongi was only trying to protect Jungkook.

That after seeing all the bruises Jungkook sustains at home, Yoongi probably couldn't stand to see another one added still.

Going back to class feels like a prison sentence; others will stare when they see the rash on Jungkook's cheek and his red-rimmed eyes. Rumors will spread, slowly at first and then undoubtedly like wildfire as soon as everyone realizes Min Yoongi is no longer in attendance. But perhaps the worst of it is simply that Jungkook doesn't know exactly when they'll get to see each other again, once Yoongi's father has been brought up to speed on the situation.

Jungkook quickly dabs at his eyes, chest aching at the press of a kiss to his cheek, and nods miserably as Yoongi starts to pull away.

"I'll call you after class," Jungkook says after a ragged breath. The distance is too far to say anything else without the risk of being overheard, so Jungkook settles for an extended look, hoping that his eyes convey the comfort he wishes he could give.

They'll figure something out, he tells himself as he turns back around, heading for his classroom. They have to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

𝕡𝕚𝕫𝕫𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕠

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject