𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕤𝕖

[lovestrippedbare]

Things have been tense. Jungkook knows that he should have been expecting it — there's only so long that either of them can stave off the dark days, and Jungkook's found that it's often better to face it head-on than to try and delay the inevitable. But between a harried schedule and the vain desire to keep Yoongi's birthday a light and happy one, Jungkook's procrastinated. Too many evenings where they eat in relative silence, and too many nights spent drifting in and out of sleep, only to find that Yoongi's body is tense in his arms.

It's just hard to make time.

He's running late in getting back to the workroom thanks to a study session gone late. Maybe Jungkook had a beer or two while he was at it, too, to help shrug off the tightness in his shoulders, to help him breathe a little more easily. He'd meant to let Yoongi know, but as he makes his way back to the workroom, footsteps echoing in the empty street, Jungkook realizes that it's been a couple of hours since he texted Yoongi last.

Five minutes away.

Jungkook winces, hoping that it's better late than never, and he sighs between his teeth as he swipes on his phone, finding Nayoung's number. He licks his lips nervously, holding the phone to his ear, keeping his voice slightly elevated so that Yoongi can hear Jungkook's approach, even as he stalls outside their door.

"I told you, I'm not — no, I'm not staying late next time. No, Nayoungie. I don't care how high of a grade I get on that essay, it's not worth hauling my ass across town in the middle of the — no, I told you, I stay with my fiancé over the weekends," Jungkook protests, shaking his head as he slips inside, coughing a laugh. "...what do you mean, my imaginary — just 'cause you haven't met 'em doesn't mean. Yah, fuck off. I'm hanging up."

Comments

[likedriedflowerpetals]

It shouldn't feel like this. There's very little Yoongi is sure of, but he can't shake his certainty in that. It shouldn't be this hard just to get through a normal day. He's happy, he has so much reason to be happy — a fiancé he loves, a new job. Even if it's not enough for him to give up his old job completely yet, at least it's music, teaching piano. There's a chance it'll expand later, and that's something to hope for, to look forward to. They're going to get married, once things quiet down and everyone can get together, and they're saving up for a place of their own, and it's good. A lot of the time it even feels that way.

And still it's hard. He's been pushing back against it as much as he can; at the least, he tries hard not to take any of it out on Jungkook, though the anxiety makes him irritable, too. He's trying, and somehow that makes it worse. He reminds himself that this happens, that he gets through it, that it's not real, but it doesn't go away, and all the effort he puts into it just makes him feel so small and weak, so useless. He should be stronger than this. Instead he's tired and withdrawn, and all the good they've planned for themselves feels so fucking far away.

Sometimes Jungkook does, too. Yoongi tries to spend as much time with him as they can manage, and he tries to relax in his absence, but it's difficult. He's always at his worst alone. It's hard to tune out the cruelty in the back of his head when it's all he can hear. So he spends all week looking forward to the weekend they'll have together, even knowing that he's not very good company right now, that he doesn't have much to say. Jungkook's silence tonight feels like a reminder of that. Yoongi tells himself again and again that it's nothing, that Jungkook is busy and that's okay, but he can't shake the tiny bit of him afraid that Jungkook's just tired of putting up with this, that he needs a break, even if it's only one night. A break from Yoongi.

The text that comes, brief and to the point, does nothing to cut through that, no matter how sharply Yoongi tells himself it's ridiculous. They're both just busy and tired and it's nothing. He's been sitting at the piano for he doesn't even know how long now, and he's given up on trying to write anything, but he has't moved, and the sound of approaching footsteps has his heart racing, half-longing and half-anxiety. What if he did something wrong? What if he fucked up? What? he asks himself. How? The answers don't really matter. He watches Jungkook as he enters, still busy on the phone with someone else, and doesn't say a word, even when Jungkook puts his phone down. He's tired and lonely, even with someone else in the room, and he doesn't know what to say without sounding stupid and desperate. All he can muster is a grim little smile, an attempt to show he isn't mad. It's not like Jungkook's the one that's done something wrong.

[lovestrippedbare]

It takes a few seconds for Jungkook to collect himself. He'd like to blame it all on the alcohol — Jungkook doesn't drink often, far less ever since it became clear that for Yoongi, there was some level of addiction at play, and so on the times that Jungkook does let himself indulge, it has a tendency to spiral quickly. But the truth is, there's more than alcohol weighing his limbs down. Jungkook reaches around the back of his neck, rubbing against the skin, against the tightness in his shoulders before he raises his gaze at last. It's hard to read Yoongi's expression — Jungkook doesn't know if the smile is meant to comfort him, or if it's a facade quickly and clumsily erected.

His stomach drops anyway, guilt twisting like lashing snakes.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, contrite as he quickly closes the distance between them, sitting on the edge of the piano bench. He's pretty sure that this is the right call, that he should be sorry, that he should be reaching for Yoongi. Touching him, at least, which always seems to make things better, if not necessarily right. So he does, reaching for Yoongi's hand and trying to scoot closer, only worried about the lingering scent of alcohol that must be clinging to his clothes. He might even smell like cigarette smoke. Jungkook doesn't smoke himself, but plenty of his classmates do. "I didn't mean to stay out so late, I lost track of time, I—"

—wish you'd called, wish someone had reminded me, this is all my fault.

[likedriedflowerpetals]

It's such a relief when Jungkook comes closer. It shouldn't be so much of one; he shouldn't need the reassurance so badly when Yoongi knows he's a horrible person for even thinking Jungkook might not want him anymore. Not even that, simply that he might want Yoongi less. It's irrational, he knows it is, that Jungkook has proved time and again that that's not true, that it won't ever be, and still he's so stupidly grateful just to have his hand held.

He hates that he's grateful, too, for the way Jungkook starts talking, apologies spilling out of him, enough to push through the haze in Yoongi's head that makes it hard to speak. It's always easier when he's doing something for Jungkook than it is when it's for himself. "It's okay," he says, soft, and squeezes Jungkook's hand. "You were studying hard, it's okay. Your studies are important."

He still wishes Jungkook had called him or at least texted sooner, but he can't bring himself to say it, not sure if that's irrational too. He doesn't want to be clingy. Jungkook has his own life, his own friends to argue with over the phone and to study with. As much as Yoongi wants to be the center of his attention, he knows he can't ask for that. Jungkook should get to have a normal college experience. One of them should.

Leaning close, he drops his chin onto Jungkook's shoulder, hands wrapped around Jungkook's, resting on his thigh. He wants to be close, wants to wiggle into his lap and kiss him until they both relax, but he doesn't try, not yet. For now, he just wants to be near like this, inhaling the familiar scent of Jungkook's skin. And alcohol. Just a hint of smoke, though Yoongi thinks maybe that's him, starting to smoke more again when he's alone. Definitely alcohol, though, which leaves Yoongi a little annoyed. He doesn't want to be. There's no reason Jungkook shouldn't be able to have drinks with friends, especially when he's been working hard. It just doesn't seem fair, like he was off having fun while Yoongi was skulking around the studio, wishing he were drinking. He's cut back so much over the last year, but lately it's hard to remember why. It's only because he didn't want to go outside that he stayed sober tonight.

He shouldn't say anything, probably, but still it spills out of him. "Having fun, too, hmm?" He swallows hard. "Good." It doesn't sound convincing to him, but he prays he's managed to inject some measure of brightness into his tone. "Good, you should have fun. That's important too." And it's not like he doesn't mean it. He just hates that it was without him.

[lovestrippedbare]

It takes all of Jungkook's willpower to keep from pulling himself away at the tone of Yoongi's voice. At first, it's gentle, reassuring — the very balm that Jungkook needed to allay the guilt. He was studying hard, it's true; Jungkook's never been particularly bright on his own, so it takes extra time, effort, and a few strategic friendships for him to keep up with his coursework, and even then sometimes it doesn't feel like enough. Jungkook hates the way that university anchors him in place, how he can't even dedicate any meaningful time to working a job that might help with saving up for a place of their own, or that would even at least just give Jungkook a way of picking up the check for a night out, a nice dinner.

School is every bit as stifling now as it was years ago, when they were in high school. No, sometimes it's even worse — with the weight of picking the right major constantly on his shoulders, and none of his brothers roaming the halls. Most of the students at university are strangers, faces equally worn and distant as he runs from one lecture to the next. But Jungkook can't talk about that, not with Yoongi, nor with any of the others — because he's the only one with this privilege at all.

He can't squander it.

He can't let them down.

Sometimes, it's so much that Jungkook just wants to bury himself in covers and never emerge. So he needs to hear it, that it's okay if he lost track of time, that it's okay if sometimes he pours his all into one area and misses a few things elsewhere.

But whatever comfort comes from Yoongi's reassurances turns to stone at the mention of having fun. Jungkook frowns, a bitter taste on his tongue as his head swims. Maybe it's guilt (because he did stay out later just to get some air, didn't he, he did it to escape the tension here, he must have and it makes him bad, bad, selfish, cowardly), maybe it's defensive (it was only a couple of beers, he's a college kid, isn't that what they do). Maybe it's both, but all that Jungkook feels is the sting of the words. They feel almost like an accusation.

"You're mad," he mutters quietly. "If you're mad, you should just..." Jungkook heaves a sigh. "...just say so."

[likedriedflowerpetals]

It stings, and Yoongi isn't entirely sure why — if it's because Jungkook is right or because he's not, because this isn't Yoongi getting angry. This is something else, twisting him up inside, harder to define.

Well, not that hard, really. He just doesn't like admitting that he's jealous. It feels so incredibly petty. He should be happy. They have a lot to deal with, yes, but they have a lot going for them, too. He made his choice years ago. As bittersweet as it is to watch Jungkook head off to school when he knows he never will, he knows it isn't something he'd undo. As hard as the years have been, they're here now, together, and that's what counts.

"I'm not mad," he says, the words weighted, uneasy and a little hurt. He doesn't have a right to be angry about this anyway. With the way he's been lately, he'd prefer to avoid himself, too. Besides, he doesn't want to be the kind of shitty, possessive fiancé that gets pissed that Jungkook's having fun without him. He should get to have his own space, his own world, even if Yoongi can't be part of it. It's just hard to ignore the little part of him afraid that space will keep growing until there isn't room for him at all. It's hard to find any words at all, his voice failing him, even as he clings more tightly to Jungkook's hand. He's scared, more than he knows is rational, and he's sad, but how can he say so? Jungkook is already wary and unhappy, and he hasn't even been home for five minutes. Yoongi can't keep dragging him down.

And if he doesn't say something, he's just going to make Jungkook think he's lying.

He swallows hard. "I thought you were coming home earlier," he says quietly. "But I'm not mad, I —" He missed him, he wanted him, he's stupid and selfish and lonely and sad, and there's no good way to say how scary everything is now. How he feels so weak, like he might break apart with the slightest force. "I just missed you." Even that feels painfully pathetic, even a little too honest. If Jungkook is away more now than he has been in a long time, it's only because he has to focus on his studies. Yoongi should be able to handle that. A few extra hours shouldn't make such a big difference.

[lovestrippedbare]

Jungkook freezes for a moment, shoulders tensing. It's an answer he both did and didn't expect. Maybe the truth is that he wanted Yoongi to be angry, wanted Yoongi to have some kind of target at which he could throw all that emotion, somewhere that isn't self-directed, as Yoongi's moods so often tend to be. There's a certain relief that comes with being angry, Jungkook finds; he remembers watching the storm that came in the wake of Namjoon's return, the way the air around Taehyung had been charged, rolling clouds and rumbling thunder. It's harder to be sad, and only harder still when all that sadness is directed inside, where Jungkook can't reach, stemming from places Jungkook can't blame.

But more than that, right now, it's almost suffocating. Maybe it wouldn't have been, had this been years ago, both of them curled up under tangled sheets in the safety of Yoongi's father's house. Back then, it was easier to allocate time towards the emotions themselves, no obligation to pay bills, to pass exams (or at least, not exams that felt so immediately consequential, the last stretch before the real world awaits). Now, Jungkook feels the weight of so much pressing down on his shoulders, and as much as he tries to bear it, tries to work up the strength, he feels—

—his knees, buckling.

Yoongi needs him. Jungkook shouldn't have stayed out so late. But could he have afforded not to? He's always learned best with the help of friends, but friendships require tending to, friendships can't be all take and take and take. Maybe it'd be easier, in a way, were Jungkook actually failing out of his classes, a few doors closed leading him back to Yoongi. But it's not.

The guilt rises, caught around his throat. Jungkook pulls in a shaky breath, and he's had too much to drink, bad enough at stringing words together under the best of circumstances but undeniably terrible at it now.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, resolutely staring at Yoongi's knees. Maybe he's gripping Yoongi's hand a little too tight. "Should've gotten back sooner. I'll — set an alarm on my phone, next time."

[likedriedflowerpetals]

There's a bitterness, real or imagined, in Yoongi's mouth, an unhappiness that would bow his shoulders if he weren't already bent in on himself, hunched so he doesn't have to look at Jungkook even as he can't stop touching him. He needs the anchor, needs to feel him there, but if he looks up, he doesn't know what he'll see. Hurt or anger or guilt or resentment, all of it, any of it, he can't deal with it right now. But there's nowhere to run either. The only way to retreat is to go inward and he's already there, so lost inside of himself.

"No," he murmurs, shaking his head minutely. "No, it's okay." It isn't. He wants that, wants Jungkook to come running home, and he doesn't want that in himself. It isn't fair. He knows it isn't. It isn't right of him to push all that on Jungkook, so selfish, so needy. Anyone would get sick of that, and it would be deserved. Besides, even under the hurt, he knows rationally that, whatever else he might want, he wants Jungkook to be happy. He can't be happy if he's always tending to Yoongi's wounds. It isn't right. He should have known better anyway. Of course Jungkook would want to have some fun. He can't just study all the time.

So if he knows all of this, why does it still hurt?

"You've got friends and studying and —" And Yoongi isn't a part of that. "It's okay." He clings to Jungkook's hand in turn, the desire to be comforted warring with the need to comfort in turn. He lifts his head, just enough to rest it against Jungkook's. Usually he's so good at speaking his mind, but it's hard now, when he just wants to apologize for being so stupid, so desperate, so much trouble. He should be able to take care of himself, to handle these moods on his own, not always making demands on Jungkook to take care of him.

[lovestrippedbare]

Yoongi's words are jarring in comparison to all of the other details — the way his shoulders hunch, the way he can't seem to meet Jungkook's gaze. No, it's not okay. Of course it's not okay, and Jungkook feels his stomach twisting further still. Isn't this exactly what he promised to help Yoongi avoid? And for days — no, is it weeks? — Jungkook's known, has felt the tension in their apartment like the slow rise of a tide, always telling himself that he'll tend to it soon. Soon.

And now, suddenly, it feels late.

"S'not," Jungkook whispers, threading his fingers clumsily through Yoongi's hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. The ground sways under his feet, and Jungkook wishes it didn't, wishes he could simply lift Yoongi in his arms and take them both to the couch, curl up in companionable silence. Jungkook doesn't trust himself to get them there now, and so he slides backward for a moment, straddling the bench as he reaches out with both arms to pull Yoongi against his chest. "I should've stayed home. If I weren't such an... idiot. Wish I was smarter at this stuff, then I wouldn't have to — I'd rather stay with you at home."

He buries his face against Yoongi's neck, hair prickling his nose. Jungkook lets himself take a deep breath, then cringes as he practically tastes the alcohol on his tongue, bitter with regret. "I'm sorry."