Chapter Text
The fifteen year old me who didn’t have anything
The world was so big and I was so small
Now I can’t even imagine
Now I can’t even imagine myself
I was scentless and completely empty
Love you my brother, thanks to my brothers
I discovered emotions, I became me
So I’m me
Now I’m me
From Begin - Wings 10/10/2016
🎜🎝♬ ♡ ♬🎝🎜
Jeon Jungkook is no stranger to worry. He’s well-used to even the smallest problem or mistake spiraling him straight into the worst depths imaginable. As he always has problems, and constantly makes mistakes despite his best efforts not to, he spirals often.
He’s been this way most of his life. Been on and off medication for it, was even hospitalized at thirteen when a panic attack got bad enough his father--who usually chose to ignore Jungkook’s existence--actually noticed his son’s silent screaming. That stay in the hospital lasted over two months, and Jungkook remembers very little of it.
He’s also experienced hunger many times in his young life, either because his father was too busy running his restaurant to remember to feed his own child, or he’d choose not to eat for fear of gaining too much weight to dance. Sometimes, he’d sleep through entire days while in a depressive state and no one would wake him to make sure he ate because Jungkook asleep was less trouble than Jungkook awake.
None of those hungry times, of course, were ever life-threatening, none of those hungry times ever lasted long. This is different. The hunger he has now--the no-money kind combined with worry over that lack of money, and his apparent inability to get it--has sparked something in him far worse than anything he’s experienced before.
Fear. Cold, mind-numbing fear.
At first, not having enough food wasn’t too bad--he’d put on a little weight eating cheap crap and his dance teacher was pleased to see him thin down a little--but now? His clothes hang on him. He’s lost muscle, and for a dancer--especially a beta like himself, without the strength and endurance of an alpha--that’s not good. Not good at all.
Not that it matters, now. He’s stopped going to dance practice. He’s not friends with any of the other dancers, too shy to venture beyond a nod, so no one misses him. The only other dancer Jungkook sort of knows is Park Jimin-- everyone knows Park Jimin--but Jungkook’s never seen him outside the practice rooms. Maybe he lives there; that’s what it takes, after all, to be a success.
He knows no one in Seoul except for his roommate at the shelter. V at least has a job, and shares leftover food with him. Without V, Jungkook would probably be dead. Or, already back home, his dreams permanently crushed. That's as good as dead to Jungkook.
So hungry. Just standing here in front of the job board he can smell the sweet scent of hot bungeoppang, the sharp tang of kimchi jjigae, and even the simple, familiar scent of ramyeon cooking somewhere close by. It is enough to make him whimper. He doesn’t know what to do except go back to the shelter and hope V has food for them tonight.
He can’t. He just can’t.
A hot tear runs down his face as he stares mindlessly at the job board. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away. He draws in a breath, hitching on the intake, a soft sob escaping as he breathes shakily out. It’s starting, the spiraling. Even if he takes his meds now, they won’t help him, not without food. He’ll just throw them up. He’s so stupid, such an idiot and it is all his fault everything’s gone to hell in his life.
Why couldn’t he have been an obedient son? Done as his father wanted?
You want to dance professionally? And sing? No son of mine. Have you no pride? What will people say? Everyone knows about people like that. You’re just like your mother...
His father’s angry voice lingers; he still feels the tenderness in his cheekbone though its been months. His mind is a jumble, and he can feel the insistent tug of terror pulling him into its depths. He’s losing hope. Without hope, he has nothing. It doesn’t matter if he has a decent voice, and is a talented dancer, even though he’s relatively untrained. Without money for the classes to help him improve, he is…
A failure.
If he can’t find a job soon he will have no choice but to return home, and take his place in the family business. His father will punish him first, of course, by making him wait tables. His father knows how hard it is for him to interact with strangers, to force himself to talk to them--especially girls--but that will be his fate.
As he stares at the job board--which still doesn’t have a single posting he is qualified for except, of course, waiting tables--his hands start to tremble. His chest tightens, and breathing somehow hurts. Rotten trash and the acrid stench of too many cars burn his nose. His skin crawls, heat flashing through him and making him sweat despite the cold. His toes are numb. No, he is numb.
He drops to a crouch, forehead in one hand, bracing himself on the ground with the other in a vain attempt at fighting against the deepening panic. His backpack slides off his shoulder and hits the pavement with a thunk.
He can’t do this anymore. He’s going to die, right here on the sidewalk. Or worse, he’ll faint and someone will steal his backpack and then he might as well be dead. Nausea rips through him. He drops fully to his knees and folds over, covering his face with his hands. He can still smell it, the stink of despair, and it is coming from himself.
“Excuse me, hey are you alright, pup?”
Jungkook freezes. He can’t move, really can’t. He wishes whoever this person is would go away. “Fine. I’m fine,” he wrenches out even as he curls tighter around himself.
“Jeon Jungkook? Jungkook-ssi?”
The gentleness--and his startled recognition of that voice--has Jungkook jerking his head up. He stares; he knows the man peering down at him with such concern. Humiliation rips through him. He is ready to die now.
It’s Jung Hoseok. The Jung Hoseok.
Jung Hoseok aka J-Hope, famous rapper and dancer and choreographer and some-time guest workshop teacher at the dance studio, and one of Jungkook’s idols. A beta like himself whose confidence gave Jungkook the courage to finally tell his father he was not going to spend the rest of his life cutting vegetables. He was going to dance.
J-Hope watches him in concern, tilts his head and reaches for him. Jungkook bolts to his feet before J-Hope can touch him and backs away. He is instantly dizzy. He stumbles but somehow catches himself.
“Jung Hoseok-nim." He bows again, more carefully this time. "Sorry. No. Yes. I mean yes I’m Jeon Jungkook. You know who I am?”
J-Hope flashes him a smile. “Of course. You came to my dance workshop last month. I remember you very well. You’re quite talented.”
“You saw me?” Jungkook’s voice squeaks. Of course it does. He doesn’t understand why J-Hope noticed him. He’d barely moved in the workshop, too lost in awe his favorite dancer in the whole wide world was their teacher for the session.
J-Hope’s grin lights up his entire face. Dimples. “I did! I looked for you after class but you’d left already. I’d hoped you would come back for the next one.”
J-Hope looked for him? And he’d run, like the timid mouse that he was. That he is. And he wants to run, now. He takes a step to do just that but J-Hope’s frown stops him.
“I-I didn’t know about the second workshop. Sorry. Sorry.” Which of course was a lie. He’d been too scared to go. Too hungry, and feared he would faint.
His backpack is on the ground. He leaps forward and grabs it by a strap, hauling it into his arms and cradling it like the precious thing it is. And, it really is; all his music is on this computer, all his dance videos, and his singing and everything. And yet he’d almost run away without it.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, I'm just going now. I’m sorry.”
He backs up another step, making J-Hope’s eyes widen. His face softens then. “Hey it’s okay, don't go yet. I’m sorry I upset you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, and smiles--a quick flash of his infamous dimples--then glances at the job board. “Looking for a job?”
“I-- Uh…” He shrugs. “There’s nothing. There’s never anything except waiting tables and I can’t, I just can’t. People. I can’t people.” He winces, looks away at J-Hope’s raised eyebrow. “Sorry.” Then like the awkward fool he is, he bows. Except when he tries to straighten, a wave of dizziness makes him drop down into a crouch again. Fuck.
I can’t, I can’t, he whispers.
Jung Hoseok touches his shoulder, his fingertips grazing Jungkook’s bare neck. Jungkook freezes, waiting for him to say something, to react in disgust. Instead, sweet sunshine wafts over Jungkook, seeping into his skin with its warmth and a vaguely-familiar scent. Marmalade? he thinks, slightly dazed. Either J-Hope doesn’t notice his wrongness, or just ignores it.
He gently pulls Jungkook up and waits until Jungkook looks at him. His gaze is calm, and steadying. “Jungkook-ah, are you okay?”
It takes him a moment until he can nod. “Yeah. Thanks. I just…” How can he explain? J-Hope squeezes his arm. Jungkook pulls out of his grasp. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“My friends call me Hobi. Or J-Hope.”
“I--” Hobi? He can’t. He just can’t.
The dimples reappear. “How about Hobi-hyung? Or Hoseok-hyung? Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Jungkook presses his lips together but nods. He doesn’t understand why...why Hoseok is still here, and being so kind. “I-- I don't know...”
He waits expectantly. “Hoseok-hyung.”
Finally, Jungkook nods and says, as it is clear he has to say something, “Hoseok-hyung.”
“Perfect.” J-Hope smiles again. “I was going to post a job here.” J-Hope tilts his head, his eyes soft, his posture casual, then looks up at the board. “I think you’d be perfect for it, actually. I’m going to Toronto for a couple months to help a friend out at her dance studio while she and her wife have their baby. Leaving tomorrow evening. I need someone to water my plants. You'd be perfect, I think.”
Jungkook is confused as J-Hope turns back to him. “You want me to water your plants?”
“Yes! And feed my fish, keep things clean and dusted, and keep an eye on my housemate.”
Jungkook stills. “Your housemate?”
“Yeah, You know Suga, right? Min Yoongi? Short, adorable grumpy rapper...”
Jungkook sucks in his breath, and stares at J-Hope in disbelief, a little horror, and maybe even terror, ripping straight through to his bones. “But--Min Yoongi?”
J-Hope laughs. “The rumors about him aren’t true, I promise. Not that kind of alpha. He doesn’t eat children or have temper tantrums or fling people who bother him off buildings. Usually.”
Jungkook tries to smile. He really does. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
J-Hope laughs. “Perhaps not so much, then?”
Min Yoongi. The Min Yoongi. NM5’s Min Yoongi. J-Hope wants him to work for--to watch over--the Min Yoongi? His bias? The alpha who infiltrated Jungkook’s dreams and left him breathless and shaking when he was a teenager, too often waking up to damp boxers?
He is hot, nauseous. The last of J-Hope’s reassuring scent dissipates and he almost whimpers. Dizziness hits him again. He stares at J-Hope, the smile he’s wearing blurring which makes Jungkook realize his head is swimming and he’s in severe danger of falling over.
J-Hope grabs hold of him again steadying him. “Easy, Jungkook-ah. Deep breaths. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“I’m... I’m fine, hyung.” He shakes his head, confused, and strives to find something normal to say though his mouth is dry, his tongue heavy. Min Yoongi? “I-I didn’t even know M-Min… he was in Seoul.”
A sad look flashes in J-Hope’s eyes. “Not surprising. He doesn’t leave our apartment.”
“At all?” When J-Hope tilts his head and shrugs, Jungkook immediately says, “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for prying.”
“You’re not. I’ll explain a little what’s going on, but not here.”
J-Hope glances toward a pack of girls passing by--alphas by their sharp looks--whispering among themselves. One stops, scans J-Hope hungrily, her gaze flicking over Jungkook. Her eyes narrow, but one of her friends drags her along.
Jungkook shudders. “Oh. Of course. Sorry, hyung.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
Jungkook reaches for calm but it is hard to find. So very hard. J-Hope wants him to take care of his home. With Suga there. Jungkook’s heart flutters, a sure sign if he doesn’t calm himself, he’ll begin to spiral. He already feels sick, and is so hungry, it won't take much more to completely fall to pieces.
This can’t be happening. But it is.
He glances at J-Hope, his kind smile and thinks okay, it is real. All his fantasies about somehow meeting the members of his favorite music group are coming true, and he can’t handle it.
It is all he can do not to run. Except, he doesn’t want to run. He wants to do this, even though it terrifies him. How will he handle looking Min Yoongi in the eye, when he can’t even say his name without falling to pieces? He doesn’t know but he wants this.
But Suga!
So much of his life as a teenager was wrapped up in NM5. The songs, the raps--especially Suga’s--were his life line. His reason to hold on to...to hope. He learned every single lyric by heart, every part, even every ad-lib, could sing and rap it all, and taught himself all the choreography and when there wasn’t any, made it up himself. It made him happy when nothing else did.
NM5 was his sanity and yeah, his awareness of his attraction to boys might’ve been started because of his fascination with Suga’s alpha intensity combined with his pretty face--oh fuck how can I do this?--but Jungkook didn’t truly comprehend how much he depended on NM5 until he got home from his months-long stay in the hospital, and learned NM5 had broken up. That was also the day he learned his father blamed NM5 for all of Jungkook’s problems. In addition to his mother, of course. His father always blamed his mother, even though Jungkook doesn’t remember her very well.
Harsh memories of that day barrage him, impossible to stop. His father stripping all Jungkook’s NM5 posters from his bedroom walls, ripping them apart and throwing them at Jungkook. Taking his computer with hundreds of carefully-sorted pics of NM5--mostly Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi--away, and Jungkook’s cell phone, too, replacing it with one barely good enough for calls and texting. It’d been humiliating. Still was, as it's the same one he has now.
“Jungkook-ah? You okay? What do you think?”
Jungkook snaps back to the present, swallows, and nods. “I-- I--” He closes his eyes, wincing at his stuttering. “Okay.” He opens his eyes again, the back of his neck hot.
J-Hope grins. “Fantastic! You’re really helping me out and I appreciate it. If I leave the plants to Yoongi’s care they’ll not last a week. Most of them are Namjoon’s, and I refuse to disappoint him with dead plants when he finally gets home. Know anything about bonsai?” Jungkook shakes his head. “No problem. I’ve still got the instructions he left me. Somewhere.”
“Where is he?”
“Got out of the military then jumped right on a university guest lecture circuit. Read his new book?” Jungkook shakes his head. No money for it, though he’s read the first few pages, the last time he was in a bookstore. “I’ll get you a copy.” J-Hope grins. “It’s a little cerebral, but that’s Namjoon. Anyway. Seokjin’s with him, chauffeuring him around. They’ll come back to Seoul soon. You’ll like them.” Jungkook sucks in his breath but J-Hope doesn’t notice. He looks at his mobile phone, stuffs it into his pocket, then appraises Jungkook openly. “You hungry?”
Jungkook jerks his head up. “I’m fine,” he says, but the crack in his voice betrays him.
J-Hope eyes him, then nods. “Humor me anyway, Jungkook-ah. I’m starved. Come on, eat with me and I’ll tell you about the job. I think you’ll be great at it, okay? It's just a couple of months, but it’d really help me out having someone I can trust to take care of my things. And hyung.”
“But you don't know me,” he blurts out. And Min Yoongi sure doesn’t, either. He’ll hate Jungkook on sight. “Why would you trust me? You don't know me.”
J-Hope doesn’t look dissuaded in the least and throws his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. Jungkook is so shocked he can’t move. “I know you better than you think. You’re Jeon Jungkook, you’re a promising dancer who works hard to improve himself, even though from what I’ve seen, he’s--you’re--a natural.” He pokes Jungkook above his heart. “A little quiet, a little shy, but that’s not a bad thing. Everyone misses you in practice, from what I’ve been told. Suga will like you, I promise.”
Panic flutters in Jungkook’s chest and he fears J-Hope will ask him why he doesn’t go to the studio anymore. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth, still firmly in J-Hope’s clutches.
Then, instead of the questions Jungkook fears are next, J-Hope releases him at last, then says, “Jimin vouches for you, too. Good enough for me and will be for hyung too.”
Park Jimin? “You know Park Jimin that well? I mean, I don't really know him.” He looks at the ground. “I-- I didn’t think he knew me. Would know me. I mean, he’s--” Jungkook’s face heats. Why can’t he be normal, and talk right? “He’s amazing.”
J-Hope nods. “He is, isn’t he? He’s my protégé, though I haven’t told him that. I don't want him to quit his day job just yet.” He makes a face. “You don't tell him that, either. Soon though. I don't like how often he gets hurt.” J-Hope looks as serious as Jungkook’s seen him. “And of course he knows you. He seems quite fond of you, actually. He has excellent judgment about a lot of things, including people. Comes from being a policeman, I suppose.”
“He’s a cop?” Jungkook didn’t know that.
“Ya. He’s also worried about you. He says you’re special, and I agree.” He squeezes Jungkook’s shoulder, then says gently, “Coming with?”
Special? Him? His neck heats again--it's a constant with him these days--and it is so weird and awkward. But the thought of eating something--he doesn’t care what it is--he simply can’t refuse. He can take his meds and maybe get through another day. “I-- Okay.”
He hikes his backpack onto his shoulder and follows J-Hope. He looks amazing; his clothes are casual, though Jungkook knows expensive clothing when he sees it. What must J-Hope think of him? He stares down at his torn jeans, his scuffed boots with holes in one sole so he has to be careful of puddles, his worn jacket. He hopes J-Hope doesn’t take him somewhere people will stare at him. He knows what he looks like; poor. Very very poor. Why would someone like him be with the J-Hope?
“Come on then. Have you ever had a hanwoo burger?”
“Not recently.”
His stomach rumbles then, making J-Hope laugh. “There’s a place not far that has the best I’ve ever had. Burgerbang. Been there? No? You like meat?”
“I love meat,” he says breathlessly.
J-Hope laughs. “Good. Let’s go get burgers then, Jeon Jungkook. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
🎜🎝♬
By the time he watches Jeon Jungkook finish his burger--barely pausing between bites to nod at whatever Hoseok has said--Hoseok accepts there is nothing in this world that will stop him from making sure the pup is never hungry again. Jeon Jungkook needs help. Hoseok likes to help, and he might even appreciate Hoseok’s efforts in the end, unlike someone else…
Well. Hoseok digs back into his meal, and Jungkook attacks his fries with the same enthusiasm he did his burger. One of NM5’s songs come on in the restaurant-- Bitter Change of all things--and Jungkook looks up at him, eyes wide.
Hoseok shrugs. He’s not the only one who glances Hoseok’s way but he just laughs. “You get used to it.” Jungkook nods without looking convinced.
Hoseok very nearly said ‘you’ll get used to it ’ but he doesn’t want to freak the kid out. As far as Jungkook now knows, he’s simply going to be Yoongi’s houseboy, which will keep him fed and put some money in his pocket until Hoseok gets back home. A blow-off job to most, but a lifeline for Jungkook. He suspects--if Jimin is right--there’s a very sad reason the kid is on his own. The pup is pale, his cheeks thin. He’s lost weight, precious muscle someone his age should be building, not losing. His clothes hang on him. His eyes are huge, half-hidden by too-long hair, and despite whatever Hoseok says to try to comfort him, the terror in them has barely waned.
Friendless and packless, in a strange city. Hoseok’s been there himself, but it was long ago, and didn’t last long, thanks to Namjoon.
He bites into his burger, purposefully groaning with over-the-top pleasure. Jungkook smiles shyly at him, then glances at his cell phone when it suddenly lights up. He frowns, but ignores it, taking a long drink of his soda. It flashes again and Jungkook picks it up. It goes dark again.
“Need to take a call?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “No, it just--it just does that sometimes.”
“Give me that.” Jungkook hesitates, his face flushing as he almost pulls the cell phone to his chest before handing it to him, obviously careful not to let their hands touch. Hoseok doesn’t react though he finds that curious.
He has to pause for a split second to remember how to add himself as a contact to such an old phone. He’s surprised it still works. The sides are worn and the screen is cracked. After a minute he manages to enter his phone number, sends himself a text message so he’ll have Jungkook’s. “So you can let me know how Yoongi’s doing. I’ll send you the address where to meet up tomorrow, too.” He quickly does so, then hands it back to Jungkook.
The kid stares at his phone for a moment before setting it back on the table. “You really want me to spy on Yoongi?”
Hoseok hesitates. That’s exactly what he wants, but he didn’t expect Jungkook to jump on it so directly. “Not technically. I just want to know how he’s doing. And be sure he is eating. You can cook, right?”
Jungkook nods. “My-- my family owns a restaurant. I can make a lot of things.”
A restaurant, and he’s clearly starving? Hoseok’s temper flares but he tamps it down again. Jungkook will be okay now, despite his clearly negligent family. Seokjin is going to love this kid, he thinks. Having someone to fuss over is heaven for an omega, and this pup needs it like none other. And, he thinks soberly, maybe having someone new to fuss over will help Jin, too, while he’s away and not there to make sure their hyung gets enough sleep.
Aish, they are all disasters.
Then he realizes Jungkook is watching him, a slight frown on his face. Hoseok clears his throat. “I’m worried about him. He’s terrible at calling, and texting. Are you okay with that?”
Jungkook looks down, staring at the table. Finally, he nods. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
He looks up then, his eyes so sad Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to squeeze his shoulder. He half expects Jungkook to pull away again but this time he doesn’t. “I care about my friends. All of them. You too.”
Jungkook doesn’t look like he believes it, which melts Hoseok into a puddle. He can’t help himself; he ruffles Jungkook’s hair until he finally gives Hoseok the smallest of smiles. He peers through his mussed-up fringe and says, “Thank you, hyung. I’ll do my best.”
Hoseok gives Jungkook two thumbs-up. “Fighting.” As he hoped, Jungkook’s smile widens. Just a little, but the most Hoseok’s seen yet. How he’d love to see the pup truly laugh. “Would you like another? My treat of course.”
Jungkook pokes at the empty wrappings then snatches his hand back. “I’m fine. Thank you though.”
No, no he isn’t, but Hoseok lets that go. He stands. “I’m getting one to take home to Yoongi-hung, so it's no problem. You could eat it later…”
Jungkook snaps his head up, licks his lower lip. Hoseok hates how anxious he looks. How hungry. “I don't want to take advantage, hyung,” he whispers.
Ah, this pup. So polite. Hoseok’s protectiveness flares--he wishes he wasn’t leaving, could be there to help Jungkook get back on his feet, but as his trip is the excuse to make that happen, well. Jungkook will be in good hands. The best of hands. Hopefully.
“You’re not. Stay put. Same thing or another kind?”
“Same is fine. Thank you.”
Hoseok nods and heads for the line behind a couple who can’t seem to decide what they want. That’s fine though; it gives him the chance to look back at Jungkook. He digs into his backpack, and pulls out a medicine bottle. He is almost frantic in his haste to pour out one of the pills, and nearly drops the bottle in the process. He stuffs the pill in his mouth, shoves the bottle back into his backpack, then closes his eyes as he swallows the pill dry.
Damn. Hoseok could never do that. He wonders what the medication could possibly be. If Jungkook were an alpha he would suspect suppressants but-- Hoseok frowns, realizing something. Not once has he caught Jungkook’s scent. Even though some betas have weaker scents than others, Hoseok is puzzled he didn’t detect even a whiff of anything from Jungkook whenever he touched him. The medication he’s on? Possibly?
Jungkook clearly either didn’t like to be touched, or wasn’t used to it. Maybe that was why. Hoseok’s resolve strengthens. There is something terribly wrong going on here. He knows he could ask Jungkook, and he’d likely confess, but Hoseok’s mind veers from this scenario. He is not the one meant to unpack the woes in Jeon Jungkook’s life. His role in this is merely to shove the pieces together--two specifically--and hope for the best.
Hoseok doesn’t like manipulating his friends but sometimes, he has learned over the years, it is necessary. Their pack is no longer a pack, but a fractured mess, and he hates it. Namjoon hates it. Hoseok knows for a fact Seokjin hates it most of all. Hyung deserves to have a pack to care for and tend to. Or at least one very sweet beta pup. Namjoon can’t fix the sad remnants of their pack on his own, and has all but given up trying, which breaks Hoseok’s heart. He knows it’d mean the world to Namjoon for everything to be okay again. To be a proper alpha, with a bonded pack to watch over and guide. Hoseok longs for that, too.
Yoongi needs help before any of them can hope to heal. Hoseok knows if this ridiculous plan of his doesn’t work, he just might lose the stubborn alpha permanently to the hole he’s hunkered down in but he has to try. Yoongi barely leaves his in-house studio. Barely eats, only if Hoseok forces it on him. His hair is at the mercy of dull scissors; it is a mess. Not that he gives zero fucks about his appearance. His wardrobe consists of black and grey workout clothes (not that he works out) Hoseok knows double as sleep clothes.
Hoseok gets it, he really does. For Yoongi, even as Suga, it was always a little harder than for the rest of them to push himself out there into the world, and what Donhyun did to him made it even harder. It was easier for Yoongi to give up, to look at their past success as simply that--in the past. Never to be repeated.
He doesn’t believe that. He truly believes the answer to everything is sitting at that table--Jeon Jungkook. Or at least the start of it. He has other plans cooking, though isn’t as concerned about convincing Namjoon and Seokjin about those. This has to work. It has to.
His head pounds. He is tired. He is tired of worrying over Suga, over Namjoon, over Seokjin, tired of wondering how to make things better, how to fix the horrible, aching gap in their lives since Donhyun destroyed the pack. Tired of being the only one who believes their pack can heal, and become strong again. If he is right, Suga will be drawn to Jungkook, just as Hoseok was. Jungkook is sweet and so good, and wants to please so badly. If anyone can get through to the stubborn alpha’s devastated heart, it’ll be Jeon Jungkook. Yoongi won’t know what hit him until it’s too late. That thought pleases Hoseok immensely.
Nothing worth having should come easy, but Hoseok briefly wonders if he’s in over his head. Maybe, but being the optimistic beta he is, Hoseok has to believe it will all work out. And even if what he wants fails to happen, at least Jeon Jungkook will be well-fed for a good while. He returns to the table with the food, and sets the bigger bag in front of Jungkook. “Got some extra.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook protests, but that dies on his lips when Hoseok grabs his hand--nothing--and plunks the change into it. “What’s that for?”
“For the bus tomorrow. Nine-thirty. I’ll see you then.”
Jungkook stares at the money. He looks up at Hoseok. He waits for the protest sure to come, but Jungkook nods, and gives him a small smile. Hoseok ruffles his hair, and then leaves Jungkook with enough food and money for a couple days and, he thinks with a smile, a little new-found hope.
Sometimes, it feels really good to live up to his name.