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it’s cold in new zealand. not as cold as in south korea, not in the slightest, but cold is cold and cold is different everywhere. in new zealand, it’s cold — mountain high cold, the kind it makes your nose pink, the kind it crawls under the sleeves of your multiple layers of clothing, embracing your skin. it’s cold — not colder than south korea, but cold. “you said that twice, hyung,” jungkook comments, steam coming out of his mouth, cheeks red, red, red, almost as red as the chairlift they’re sitting on, feet dangling over the white under, in large ski boots. their skis are crisscrossed. “take my heat pack.”
jungkook moves— to grab the heat pack out of his pocket, and the lift sways softly. yoongi grabs his wrist at once, heartbeat increasing. “leave it for now,” he mumbles, eyes finding the camera jungkook holds, how it blinks red, too. “just keep still.”
“— are you scared, hyung?” jungkook seems to chuckle, albeit the sound is taken away by wind, and their chair sways again, metal rattling against metal. yoongi doesn’t let go of jungkook’s wrist, bringing his arm closer to him instead.
“no,” he sniffs, cheeks warm, despite the cold. the cold, the mountain cold, new zealand cold. so different . “i’m not scared of anything.” jungkook huffs, amused, but he slides ever so slightly towards yoongi, their sides pressing together, and it makes yoongi smile, and he hides it, looking the other way. people all the way down look small and toy-like. he sighs.
(two weeks ago and they receive the news— bon voyage would next be filmed in new zealand, way south, where snow is heavy and the air smells crisp and everything looks like it has never been touched by human hands. namjoon was happy, going on about the lord of the rings for hours, and all of them had joined in, even yoongi, who had watched half of the first one, before ultimately falling asleep next to hoseok. new zealand didn’t seem like a place, but a movie scenery where some people happened to live. a few hours before they boarded, one of the managers reminded them auspiciously, pack heavy jackets , and yoongi had swallowed, slightly defeated, staring at his collection of mild-weather clothes. it’s going to be cold. )
(“you and jungkook are paired together for a part of the trip.”)
(“hyung! we’re going skiing!”)
their cameramen and small crew are already waiting when they finally reach the top, stumbling out of the lift, jungkook with more poise, yoongi grabbing onto him in order not to fall flat on his ass. they are taught basic ski moves, hand-to-feet coordination, and guidelines to go down the mountain. it’s a mountain , yoongi thinks, trembling a bit, it’s mountain cold . jungkook picks up very fast, as he usually does, falling just a few times before properly holding himself up. yoongi bites his lip under his mask, wishing they had gotten the river jet instead. but then again, it’d be river cold . the day seems to be long, but they only actually spend a few hours going up and down, the sun odd, biting, leaving their cheeks sunburnt. it’s a weirdly hot sun, mountain hot .
finally, at what seems like the entire length of the lord of the rings trilogy namjoon and seokjin have watched a few times, they sit down at the ski resort café, steaming americanos in front of them, in big white cups. the crew gives them space, going about their own personal timelines, although cameras are left running. “you’re sunblushed,” jungkook points out, grinning the way he does, upper lip disappearing into a thin line, all toothy. his goggles are reflecting the mountain, pushed back with his hair, wisps of it still falling on his eyes. yoongi notices he’s staring, and he notices how sunblushed and sunburnt sound different when spoken by one jeon jungkook. “it’s cute.”
yoongi looks down at his coffee, his gloved hands wrapped around the mug for some extra heat. he knows he’s just blushing now, no sun needed. “i am cute,” and his confident tone (mocking, really, because his heart is beating in disarray) makes jungkook grin even bigger, eyes like half-moons. “do you know where are we going after this?”
there are papers in jungkook’s pockets, and he pulls them up, looking through them, a focused frown in place. yoongi watches him, because there’s nothing else to watch (the mountain and its natural splendor, how the ice and snow wrap around pointy, sharp ends higher above them, how the whole of the world seems to be spread out under them). there’s nothing else . “we’re at,” he stutters the next word, with some difficulty. “ remar ,” something, something, yoongi smiles. “ remark-ables .”
“right,” yoongi nods, not wanting to correct him, too endeared to ever try. “and then?”
“we’re taking a car here,” he points and yoongi finally looks away from jungkook’s face and onto the paper, leaning closer. “and driving here.” his finger follows the line on his map. “two days, and then we meet everyone here.”
“two days.” another nod, smaller this time. two days alone with jungkook and a set of cameras, their crew following in another car right behind. they find each other’s eyes, but both look away rather quickly. “it’s not that long of a time.”
but it is that long of a time, it is when the other five who give them purposeful balance are not there. it’s terribly that long of a time when their alone time is often too comfortable, too intimate, too caring. yoongi has vivid memories of jungkook wrapped around him in his studio’s couch, hands under his clothes for warmth, and how he snuggled against the crook of yoongi’s neck. he remembers what it led to. jungkook seems to be thinking the same, from the way he bites down his lower lip, the way he pulls on his hair, and covers his ears with his hands, a clear sign of embarrassment. “we won’t be alone,” jungkook offers, in smallish words, stealing a glance to the camera.
“yeah,” yoongi swallows, noticing his coffee has gone cold. “it’s good, we might get lost.” the conversation is leading nowhere, or at least nowhere it can lead to, so yoongi clears his throat, smiling. “i think we have the best filming location.”
the grin returns to jungkook’s face, nose wrinkling sweetly. “— the others will be jealous, won’t they?”
“terribly,” yoongi smiles, too.
it’s a small car. well, not small , but small. yoongi shudders in the windy parking lot, waiting as translators get guidelines for the use of the very small campervan (“ cam-ervan ,” jungkook mutters under his breath, “why is their english different —”). there are only two seats, because the rest of the car is transformed into a large bed, and under it, there’s room for camping gear and their heavier jackets. yoongi is interested in how the built-in bed was put together, wondering how the fairylights are kept on, wondering if it’s hot enough to sleep in there, trying not to take in consideration how small of a space it is for two people . for one min yoongi and one jeon jungkook. he shudders again, but it isn’t the cold this time. still, yoongi startles when jungkook grabs his hand, heat pack between them. there are no cameras filming for now. it’s okay to dare a little— so yoongi pulls jungkook closer, bringing both of their hands into his pocket. they stand side by side, the unspoken things just a stream of thoughts between them.
there are lots of unspoken things, but mostly that one night, the night that led into things , but not others. yoongi’s breathing falters, and he feels anxious. his hand starts getting clammy against the heat pack. the sky starts shifting colours as they wait, the sunset a pale shade of pink and burning orange. it doesn’t look like hues of a winter. yoongi looks up. “i’ll take pictures of it,” jungkook says after a moment, pulling his hand back, kneeling to grab the camera from his bag. yoongi is still looking up when he hears the shutter goes off, and so he looks down, to the lens that stare at him from a short distance, jungkook’s face hidden behind it.
“you’re wasting your memory card,” yoongi tells him, changing the heat pack to his other pocket. “don’t waste it on me.”
“i packed many,” jungkook shrugs. he snaps a few more shots, and yoongi can see him smile from their small distance. “you look good, hyung.” jungkook puts the camera back in his bag, front teeth biting his lips when he looks up again, one hand coming up to pinch his reddening ear. “i don’t mind wasting it on you.”
yoongi is rendered mute, as it is common when it comes to jungkook saying things that have two meanings. everything is still deep oranges, and it shades their faces. he swallows, ready to speak, even though he doesn’t know what words might come out— but then one of their managers is calling them, and they walk over, a good distance between them now. the car is thoroughly explained, and instructions are given to them, the cameras are back on. their bags are fitted under the makeshift bed, and they grab their heavier jackets from the van that will follow them with the filming crew. everything takes time, filming is always tiring at some point, even though they don’t act in front of it. it’s still an exercise of patience, of listening instructions, of waiting, of repeating things, of being given topics to maybe talk about.
at the time that they leave, it’s a little past seven at night, but the sky is dark, and so starry yoongi’s left in awe. jungkook’s the first to drive, slowly, learning the curves of the left side of the road, carefully adjusting everything around him. the camera is blinking red. a myriad of power banks occupy most of their surroundings, plus bags of kumara chips (jungkook had especially liked those, munching on it the entire day), bottles of water, lost chocolate bars, two starbucks coffees, still hot. “we will stop in an hour, right?” jungkook asks, glancing quickly at their gps.
“yeah, at,” yoongi hums for a moment, reading, just to eventually sigh. “they have difficult names for things.” jungkook seems to giggle, looking around at a roundabout. yoongi looks at him, at his eyes, concentrated on the road, eyebrows coming together, gap between his lips. then he looks out of the window, the redness of the camera bothering. he can see the filming crew driving just behind them, the white van bulky, headlights blinding his sight. “if you get tired, we can stop before.”
“we’ll go to bed soon,” jungkook says, and the sentence makes yoongi flush, remembering . jungkook himself doesn’t seem to notice, or think of it at all, as he continues, voice with notes of bewilderment. “— isn’t it strange that it is this cold in august?”
“yeah.”
“it’s going to be winter on my birthday.”
“no,” yoongi smiles. he can see jungkook stealing a look at him through the reflection on the window, before staring back at the road. “here it’ll be the first day of spring.”
(“ spring day ,” yoongi says, at some point. jungkook, sitting close beside him, turns his head, listening. just two hours before they were filming a segment for a tv show, and they were given songs to divide between members. yoongi never got to choose a song for jungkook. he had thought only of that all the way back to the car. he had thought about how there’s a hole inside his heart that constantly misses something. “that’s the song i’d give you.”
jungkook stares, for a moment. then he moves, searching for things inside his many pockets, until he finds it. the paper is crumbled already, alongside the empty package of honey butter chips,but he offers it to yoongi nonetheless. yoongi huffs, pushing the food package inside jungkook’s pocket again, making him smile. the paper, in jungkook’s handwriting says autumn leaves . yoongi sniffs, touching the tip of his nose, feeling his cheeks warm.
still, they’re sad songs .)
“shit.”
it’s one of their filming staff who says it, apologising a second later. yoongi agrees. it is shit . it’s a bit past midnight, and they had stopped previously for gas and some resting and food. now, particularly now, they’re in the middle of nowhere with only the vast universe above them as witness. how on earth did they get two flat tires . jungkook walks around, looking mildly in distress, bowing constantly with apologies. “it’s not your fault,” yoongi tells him. jungkook looks at him and in the semi-dark and the poor lights of their combined phones, he looks so young. “you were driving just fine.”
“yeah, but—,” he starts, fingers pulling on strands of hair.
“not your fault,” yoongi says it again, taking the step between them to pull on jungkook’s hoodie. jungkook stares, waiting, the way he does sometimes, when yoongi is the one to approach him, tidying him up briefly. yoongi adds, smaller voice: “don’t get cold.”
“one of us will camp out with you,” their manager finally says, and both yoongi and jungkook step away from each other, quite rapidly so, looking away. “the others will drive to the nearest town to try and get new tires.” he shrugs, scratching his head. “we’ll notify you once we’re coming back.”
both yoongi and jungkook just nod. there are cameras already filming, and yoongi feels slightly uncomfortable. “we’ll be fine, hyung,” he says nonetheless, glancing sideways to jungkook, then to the car they’ll sleep in. uncomfortable isn’t the word, maybe. he’s — anxious. and cold. it’s cold in new zealand. a different kind of cold. new zealand cold . “— should we light a fire?”
they can’t really light a fire because of new zealand laws (one of the staff kindly reminds them), but they do work on a tent for someone to stay with them through the night, filling the sleeping bag with heat packs. instructions are given briefly, so they don’t waste so much time before going. don’t leave this place, if anyone stops, let the staff deal with them, try and stay in the car, keep your phones charged, don’t wander off, wear your jackets, drink water . yoongi sometimes forgets he’s almost twenty-eight, and he wonders if, whenever this kind of life stops, he’ll know how to live by himself. at some point, finally, they get inside the car, and yoongi sits on the passenger seat, maybe not sleepy enough, maybe a bit restless from sheer anxiety. jungkook joins him a minute later, closing the door with a muted thud .
then it’s only the two of them, one min yoongi and one jeon jungkook, watching as the van drives off, until it disappears behind a curve and everything around them is of the deepest indigo. there’s a soft yellow light inside the tent a few meters away, but it goes off after a moment or two. everyone’s tired, anyway. jungkook grabs a bottle of water, but doesn’t drink from it. “i don’t really want to pee outside,” he says, putting it back. yoongi snorts. “it’s— cold.”
“it’s new zealand,” yoongi pats him, then yawns. “i think we should sleep. they’ll be back soon.”
a small pause. “— yeah.”
they take off shoes and heavier jackets and their jeans and sweaters. jungkook crawls onto the bed first, quickly wrapping himself with the cozy blankets, humming in content. yoongi cracks the windows the slightest, as they are starting to fog already. “don’t take over the whole bed,” he complains, trying to find space to move, limbs hitting on hard edges, muttering swear words that make jungkook giggle. “you’re too—,” he’s going to say tall, or big, or something he can’t remember, but yoongi’s eyes finds jungkook’s, and the way his face is barely lit but his eyes are still glimmering, and how he’s messy haired and otherworldly pretty. he panics the slightest, looking away. “just— move a bit.”
there’s some moving and some shifting, but they finally lay down, side by side, a good amount of space between them. outside, silence is heavy, the silence just before the snow. yoongi hopes it doesn’t snow. new zealand cold is already cold enough without it. “it seems like there’s no one else in the world,” jungkook mumbles, and he’s staring up, at the dark roof of the car. yoongi is staring at him, because he can’t avoid. there are no cameras now. “hyung,” jungkook swallows, turning his head, their eyes meeting again. “if the zombie apocalypse happens, we will never know.”
he says it with the uttermost seriousness. yoongi huffs. “it’s too cold for zombies. they don’t like the cold.”
“are you cold?”
“a little,” yoongi shrugs, bringing the blankets closer to his face, feeling sleepiness taking over his body already. jungkook blinks, then scoots over, hand coming to touch yoongi’s back, pulling him closer. there’s little space now. very little space. yoongi hears his own heartbeat increasing. “its— it’s fine, you don’t have to—”
“hyung,” there’s a different sort of hue in jungkook’s voice, a bit huskier, maybe a bit sleepy. “that other night— i think we should talk about it.” ah , the night of . yoongi doesn’t want to talk about it, but he knows they will have to, at some point. he knows it’ll get too difficult to ignore.
( the night of starts like every other night, no sense of uncommoness about it whatsoever, no oddities on its timeline. jungkook walks in at some point, wanting to ask him something about the music engineering program they use, his laptop carelessly being carried on one hand. the night starts like every other night, but the ending differs from other nights, all of the others. at some point, tired, yoongi says something about taking a nap, and the couch at his studio is big and comfortable and bought for that reason solemnly. he doesn’t think much, just lays there on his back, unmoving, bones heavy, and he doesn’t think much when jungkook joins him, his body hefty on top of yoongi’s. it isn’t uncommon, not until jungkook slides cold hands under yoongi’s shirt, not uncommon until he accommodates himself in between yoongi’s legs, not uncommon until he’s breathing on the crook of yoongi’s neck, lips hovering over sensitive patches of skin near his ear. yoongi breathes out hot air, but shivers as if cold. “jungkook,” he finds his voice to say, hoarsely. “what are you doing?” fingers press against his ribs, warm now. “ jungkook-ah .”
“i don’t know,” jungkook sighs, and the air that comes out of his mouth is felt everywhere on yoongi’s body. “i’m— lonely.” yoongi forces his eyes open, holding onto jungkook’s sides, his small waist, bringing him closer, still. “can i stay with you?”
“— yeah,” yoongi embraces him completely, then, legs wrapping over jungkook’s, feeling him move, the action in itself making him stutter. it seems to stir something in jungkook’s demeanor, some sort of spark being lit, because he shifts, raising his head to stare at yoongi’s face, eyes wandering until they find others.
“i’ve been thinking about kissing,” the words fall off his tongue, and yoongi watches them all, noticing the syllables against jungkook’s teeth, the intonation against canines, the pink of his vowels. jungkook blushes, vividly so, but remains adamant. it’s jungkook— straightforward, practical jungkook. no gray areas whatsoever. yoongi doesn’t know what to say, overwhelmed. he sometimes thinks of it too, shamefully, in common nights, nights without oddities, when stares have lingered a bit longer, after going to bed. when jungkook speaks again, it’s with some urgency. “— hyung, can i kiss you?”
there’s only time for a weak nod.
jungkook tastes like—)
“we kissed,” yoongi clears his throat, rolling his body until he’s facing the other side. looking at jungkook is difficult enough. “you were lonely.” maybe the other way around. jungkook’s arm is still around him. it feels heavier than it is.
some waiting, suspended in time, and maybe new zealand time is different. it is different. it’s new zealand time . like new zealand cold, it’s something of its own. yoongi thinks quietly that maybe he’s going delirious, and he wonders what time it is back home, and if it’s time for that kind of conversation. “did you like it?” the question feels solid just like jungkook’s body next to him. yoongi presses his eyes closed, as if not seeing could block the sound of resolute words.
but then again, ultimately, everything comes down to the fact that it is new zealand . a parallel universe of its own. a breach in time, a crack in space matter. in new zealand, inside their broken down campervan, under the heavy blankets of merino wool, they’re one min yoongi and one jeon jungkook, nothing else attached to those names. no fame, no cameras, no hiding. so yoongi turns, resolute, too, and watches jungkook’s expression change to one that of surprise. “yes,” he nods, for effect. “want to do it again?”
jungkook swallows, and maybe he’s blushing in his dark blues. “— yeah.”
they don’t really move, not for a moment, not until staring becomes slightly unbearable. jungkook, restless, presses his lips against the side of yoongi’s mouth, tentatively, maybe, daringly, perhaps. yoongi huffs, embarrassed, face hot. jungkook does it again, this time a hand coming up to touch the skin on yoongi’s neck, just under his ear, where it tingles. the third time it happens, jungkook doesn’t really pull away, waiting, for a second that seems longer than a second, and maybe it is down under. yoongi tilts his head, finally, allowing their mouths to finally meet, softness all over, warm inside. jungkook likes to kiss yoongi everywhere, down his chin, over his cheekbones, alongside his jawline. it makes yoongi flush with welcomed heat, between muttered can i, hyung , everytime jungkook hovers over somewhere different. the windows get so foggy the world outside is white.
jungkook tastes like— winter in new zealand, and everything about it. the kumara chips he so much likes, fireplaces and snow-coated mountains and the brisk, clean air that permeates cloudy weather. he tastes like a ski trip and tumbling down in the icy snow, and extra hot flat whites. his tongue is made of sweaters, and woollen gloves, and windbreakers, and nights so dark you can see every star in existence. yoongi sighs as he feels jungkook curl around him like he does every other time, shrinking himself to fit between yoongi’s arms and legs, body hot, hot all over, just his breathing on yoongi’s collarbones. his hair smells like strawberries and fire wood. “we should sleep,” yoongi finally says.
“i guess so,” jungkook inhales deeply. “hyung,” yoongi hums, closing his eyes, fingers running up and down jungkook’s spine. “— that feels good.” it makes yoongi smile, snuggling a bit closer, hands touching ribs and hipbones, carefully and slowly, over jungkook’s shirt, then under it, raising it slightly. jungkook shivers, pressing his legs a bit firmer against yoongi’s. “your fingers are still cold.”
“sorry,” yoongi mumbles, but he doesn’t expect jungkook to grab them, pulling them close to his mouth, blowing hot air on them. it makes him huff again, smiling, flustered, opening his eyes. jungkook looks up at him, nose touching yoongi’s chin kindly. “you’re clingy,” yoongi tells him, but it’s out of fondness.
“hyung,” jungkook leans over, kissing the spot just under yoongi’s ear, making him flinch. their fingers are entwined at this point, against jungkook’s chest and a heart that beats too fast. it’s a nice sort of rhythm, like the beat of a song you can’t stop listening to. “we should sleep.”
“yeah.”
it happens easily, falling asleep. yoongi doesn’t trouble himself with the meanings behind things, with the questions that will come, with the what ifs and the why nots . those don’t exist in new zealand. those were left home. outside, the wind makes the trees rustle.
it’s morning, at some point. it’s lighter, at least, so it should be morning. yoongi blinks awake. they’ve moved along the night, but their bodies are still pressed together, jungkook still completely wrapped against him, their hands still holding onto each other. his eyes find focus finally, and he stares at the window in front of him, still foggy. good morning, hyung , is written on the glass. yoongi smiles. “good morning, hyung,” jungkook’s voice is hoarse, and yoongi feels his words on the back of his neck.
yoongi reaches his hand, fingertip writing words under jungkook’s. good morning, jungkookie . it makes jungkook giggle, the sound reverberating against yoongi’s body. he feels when jungkook pushes himself up to reach out and add a heart to his sentence. yoongi watches him, the way his face is angled, the way his hair is unkempt and messy, the way there are pillow wrinkles on his cheek. “fix your hair,” he says, voice raspy, still smiling. jungkook sticks out his tongue, so yoongi does it for him, running fingers through smooth strands, and jungkook hums, head coming to rest against yoongi’s chest, eyes fluttering close. “there you go.”
“hyung,” jungkook mumbles, as yoongi still pets his hair. “why spring day ?” yoongi’s confused for a second, before jungkook continues: “that time, you said my song was spring day .”
“ah,” yoongi stares the roof, the gray a bit stained. “because it’s pretty.” because i find that if you’re not there i just keep missing you . “why autumn leaves ?”
“ lingering feelings hung out piece by piece like laundry ,” jungkook quotes namjoon’s rap, voice smaller than before. “hyung,” a sigh follows, but no words. yoongi understands nonetheless.
“yeah.” he inhales and exhales slowly. “me too.” they both move, guided by the same search for warmth, until they’re all wrapped around each other, until yoongi is kissing the curve of jungkook’s neck, and jungkook just sighs, sighs, sighs, and he pulls on yoongi’s sweatpants, bringing his legs closer, making yoongi blush. “it’s getting foggy again,” he says, against jungkook’s neck, looking at the words they’ve written disappearing.
jungkook raises his head, then, pulling himself up so he can look at yoongi. there’s a red bruise on his neck, now. yoongi feels warm everywhere. then he’s sitting back, blankets falling down his shoulders, cold air gracing them both, and he does it fast, hitting his head on the roof of the car, groaning in pain. it makes yoongi laugh. “hyung, i’m,” jungkook starts, frown adorning his face, scratching his head. “i have this feeling—,” but then, just then, his stomach lets out a very high noise. they stare at each other, before cracking up in laughter. jungkook buries his face again against yoongi’s chest, and yoongi touches his hair fondly, still laughing.
“i’ll get you something to eat,” he smiles at the big eyes that look at him, and smiles some more when jungkook wraps himself around him once again, calling him hyungnim , repeating to himself how cool he is. yoongi likes that— not only the praising, but jungkook’s body very close, and how his words are posed with lips on his skin, and how he can feel jungkook’s heart against his own. it’s a good feeling. “—we have to get up for that.”
so they do and the world outside is suddenly gone. everything is white, the mountains that were there a minute before are hidden under clouds that swirl around them. yoongi shudders, because new zealand cold is different , as jungkook pulls the zipper of his jacket up, their breaths very visible, noses already red. “don’t go where i can’t see you, hyung,” jungkook says as yoongi walks away from the car and near the tent.
“will you miss me?” it’s supposed to be a joke, and on jungkook’s hand, the camera is on. in new zealand, keep your cameras rolling at all times . jungkook blushes under his pretty skin, and nods. it disconcerts yoongi completely. he offers a hand, then. “let’s walk together and wake them up.”
“— okay.” jungkook holds his hand.
bts_twt: g.c.f. in new zealand ( 정국 & 슈가 ski trip!)
the sign says welcome to middle earth, and yoongi points at it, grinning. there’s jungkook as stares up at mountains, in awe, to their snow coated peaks, and then he draws them on a paper napkin, still in his ski gear. yoongi learns how to ski, poorly, falling down a few times, smiling broadly. their feet make a little dance against the window of their campervan, socks mismatched. it reads good morning, hyung , under the layers of fog. there’s both of them standing together at the edge of a lake surrounded by mountains high, and there’s yoongi bringing jungkook closer, and jungkook smiling at him. there’s yoongi making silly faces, dressed in a yellow raincoat, as they’re sprinkled with icy water on a boat going through the fjords, so similar to norway, but different all the same, because new zealand is different. there’s yoongi sleeping, curled in his blankets, just beside jungkook, and jungkook pokes his cheeks, annoyingly. there’s star gazing up at a cold place, but jungkook camera can’t catch the immensity of new zealand’s skies. finally, there’s a hazy thing of a sunset, on a road that seems to go on forever, and yoongi sings some tune, shaking his body while he drives, and jungkook films the bunnies that run around the road. there’s a single frame of them close, close, close, until it cuts out.
“so, do you like new zealand?”
“yeah,” yoongi replies, nodding, smiling. “new zealand is — different.” he offers. the interviewer raises an eyebrow, smiling. “it doesn’t feel like the real world, it feels like— it feels like a place where everything is possible.” jungkook, on the chair beside him, nod, and yoongi can tell he’s smiling, too. “i won’t forget it.”
“do you think you guys are coming back for a concert one day?”
“if not for a concert,” yoongi thinks for a while. “for another ski trip, maybe.” he looks beside him, at the slight blush that creeps from under jungkook’s make up. “i really liked it.” there’s a camera right there, but there’s a camera always. the translator repeats his words. he swallows. “i want to come back with jungkook, again.” the other boys complain, making fun of him, and jungkook whines, saying he’s the younger, so i get to come back with hyung, we’re partners , and it gets havoc in a way only they can do. yoongi smiles down at his hands. he’s cold, but cold is different in new zealand. jungkook leans closer, still talking over seokjin as the interviewer tries to work around their banter. maybe it’s not different in new zealand at all. “i also really enjoyed kumara chips,” he says, then, loud enough to be heard, trying to help the poor man out. “they taste good.”
jungkook stops talking altogether, staring at him for a second before looking away. “yeah, i liked them, too.”