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Min Yoongi, introvert extraordinaire, is having an ideal start to the weekend. After declining his friends’ invitation to go out, he’s spent the entirety of his Friday evening slowly becoming one with the blankets on his couch; happily listening to the rain beating against his windows while brainstorming for his next big project.
Honestly he could have been there for minutes or hours, lost in thought, time flying past. A loud bang on his front porch is what finally pulls him out of it, the noise followed by a series of hesitant knocks at the door. Yoongi wearily glances at the clock, seeing it’s just past one in the morning; this is a little early in the night for Taehyung to be showing up, but he’s not all that surprised. Taehyung I swear to god if you lost your key again… he grumbles to himself as he stumbles towards the door, maneuvering out of his blanket cocoon.
It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Yoongi to receive visitors so early on a Saturday. Or, rather, one visitor in particular - Taehyung - who also just so happens to be the only other person on the planet that has a key to Yoongi’s place. Unfortunately, the boy doesn’t ever seem to remember said key while drunk. Yoongi lives close to the bars, for work, unlike his friends who still live near the university, and thus this has become their usual weekend routine: Taehyung shows up around 3am, Yoongi has a glass of water waiting. He’ll never admit it, but it’s sort of cute how much drunk Tae absolutely loves Yoongi’s couch, and Yoongi would rather the younger sleep there than wander all the way back home alone. So, their tradition continues each weekend as he rolls his eyes and tucks the younger in and pretends to be annoyed by it over breakfast when they wake up.
Yoongi throws open the door without looking, ready to scold an alcohol-flushed Tae for not using his key again, only to jump back once his eyes meet a face that absolutely should not be on his front porch, especially not at one AM.
Jeon Jungkook stands in front of him, soaking wet and leaning against the metal railing that outlines Yoongi’s porch as if he can’t quite stand. His chest is heaving, suggesting the single flight of stairs up to the front door took all the energy he could muster, odd for his athletic frame. Yoongi balks, letting the silence linger a bit too long, entirely unprepared for the scenario unfolding before him. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to Jungkook and he sure as hell doesn’t know where or how to start doing so now. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to just yet.
“H-hey Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook offers a small smile and Yoongi cringes at the formality of the boy in front of him . It’s Hyung, he wants to scream, call me hyung... but he can’t bring himself to break the awkward silence.
“I was, uhm..I mean, I don’t…,” he shakes his head and it sends rain drops scattering across the patio, “I’m s-sorry to just show up like this,” Jungkook tries again, voice now shaking as much as his body.
Unfortunately, Yoongi still can’t seem to find his words. His brain is desperately grasping at straws. He can’t move, can’t speak, frozen by the guilt that has settled like a block of lead in his chest. It’s clear the younger is nervous, maybe even afraid of him. Yoongi wouldn’t blame him. They see each other around, but Yoongi isn’t sure if they’ve so much as made eye contact in the last six months. Suddenly being face-to-face like this makes the emotional distance between them painfully clear; it makes his heart ache. Does he apologize? Does he call someone? As his internal war wages on, the younger seems to take his confused silence as rejection. His doe eyes are suddenly glued to the ground as he takes a wobbly breath.
“I didn’t want...I mean, t-the hyungs are still at the party a-and I tried t-to walk home but the ground is all w-wet and I slipped and..and my ankle...a-and Tae isn’t a-answering and you lived nearby and…,” he trails off, cheeks blazing, eyes squeezing shut with what looks like shame.
“I really...I really am sorry, ” Jungkook finally cracks, voice catching in his throat, “I know you hate me, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
The ache overtakes Yoongi’s heart and he swears he can feel it shatter beneath his ribs.
What?
Their friendship was over before it really even began, and Yoongi only has himself to blame for that. It was bad luck, a bad day, bad timing, bad bad bad. He never should have gone to that party, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Taehyung met Jungkook while enrolled in an art class at University and it was an instant connection. The tiny (back then) freshman followed Tae around like a lost dog, big doe eyes gleaming with admiration, happy to assist with the chaotic mess of projects and impulses the older entertained on a daily basis. When Jimin suggested Taehyung invite Jungkook to their hangout for Taehyung’s birthday, scheduled just before their holiday break, Jungkook lit up like a Christmas tree.
That was nearly three years ago, the day Jungkook officially entered their friend group, and Yoongi had ruined it. It had been a long day, he was pretty sure he had just failed an exam, and he was in no mood for partying. He loved Taehyung, though, as much as he loved to pretend he didn’t. So, he sulked his way across town to Hoseok’s place.
Nobody said a thing as he sank down between Namjoon and Seokjin on Hoseok’s old, stained couch. The two men chatted over his head as Taehyung cornered Jungkook across the room, reciting a drunken and tearful monologue about how happy he was to have him here (all while Jimin took the opportunity to cheat his way through their game of pool.) Hoseok sat on the edge of the table, happily squawking at the scene before him, practically curled into a ball with laughter.
Yoongi sipped his whiskey, always the quiet friend; the reserved and ‘scary’ hyung who didn’t show love through those big, loud gestures. He showed love in other ways - more silent ways - ever observant, always ready to treat someone to a meal or pass around his water bottle. Maybe it wasn’t enough, he often feared it wasn’t enough, but it was the best way he knew how.
So, usually he would be happy to sit and observe; he should be happy, he had told himself. But guilt and hurt had already settled deep in Yoongi’s chest that day, cold and aching. It wasn’t abnormal for him to have bad days, bad days he couldn’t hide, where he just couldn’t bring himself to fake enthusiasm. It used to scare the other boys, especially Taehyung, to witness those days when he would retreat so deeply inside himself he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to dig his way out. Yoongi would reassure them as best he could, over and over, until ‘ I just need time ’ was enough to placate them. Until eventually, nobody asked about his bad days anymore. It’s not like he had much to say about them anyways, but on days like that day- sat in the middle of a party, yet so deep in his own head - he had wished someone would pull him into a hug and tell him how glad they were he was there. No matter how much he pretended to hate it.
Jungkook, though...he wasn’t like Yoongi. He was bold and warm, the human embodiment of good. His bad days didn’t look like stone and silence. His bad days never scared anyone, never inconvenienced anyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and Jungkook loved them all back, loudly and confidently. Yoongi hated how he couldn’t be that for his friends. He couldn’t give big love, so he didn’t get big love. That day, for the first time in a long time, as he watched the younger be cornered and adored, Yoongi had wanted to cry. I love you all, too. I’m soft, too. I’m here, too.
So, when Jungkook finally escaped Tae’s grip and bounded over to him with a chirpy and teasing, “Ooh our grumpy hyung is here!” Yoongi snapped. The nickname suddenly sharp, grating; an old, forgotten wound torn open for all to see.
“Oh, excuse me. Don’t let this grumpy hyung ruin your fucking fun.” he bit out. His shoulder colliding with the younger boy unintentionally in his rush to leave, sending Jungkook to the ground as Yoongi shoved past. He ignored the concerned shouts from behind him, hands curled into fists and nails pressed into his palm in a desperate attempt to ground himself. He’d needed to get out of there before he couldn’t hold back the tears.
Taehyung had showed up at his door later that night, furious; his eyes piercing and wet with angry tears. It was nothing like those nights where Taehyung stumbled into his living room, begging for cuddles as he slipped into unconsciousness draped across the throw pillows. Yoongi stared at the ground while he was scolded, mumbled apologies until he couldn’t take it any more. He hadn’t meant to ruin everything; hadn’t meant to ruin Taehyung’s birthday. He pleaded with the universe that Jungkook would still want to be friends with Taehyung, even if he had ruined his own chance. As the scolding continued, something inside him broke and splintered; what had once felt like armor now pricked at his skin, sharp and burning. Tae stopped when he realized Yoongi’s shoulders were shaking, violent sobs wracking his body.
“H-hyung?” Taehyung stuttered out, clearly shocked. Crying wasn’t exactly Yoongi’s thing, but the tears wouldn't stop now.
“Hyung, you need to breathe. Come here. Come here, it’s ok,” Taehyung soothed, pulling Yoongi into his lap, arms wrapping tight around him.
“Shh, hyung. Please, it’s ok, you’re ok. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. Shhh, don’t cry.”
“No I deserve it, I deserve it, you can say it. I’m n-not like him. I s-shouldn’t have...I deserve it,” Yoongi had heaved into Taehyung's chest, hardly able to get the words out. The younger man just held him, running soft hands down his back until the sobs turned to hiccups. He must have realized there was much more happening in this grumpy hyung’s head than he let on, scolding long forgotten; replaced by gentle comfort and soft whispered praise.
“Shh, no. No you don't. Hyung what are you saying? Not like who?”
It was excruciating to open up. It hurt more than he could imagine to pluck out the dark shards and splinters of hurt that made him feel ungrateful or unworthy, and lay them out in front of his friend. He had never seen such sadness in Taehyung’s eyes as he was held close, apology after apology spilling from the younger man’s lips. Yoongi had felt silly, still feels silly sometimes, being unable to ask for the love he wants; but Tae didn’t need him to ask. That night they fell asleep on Yoongi’s couch, still pressed chest-to-chest. Sometimes on his bad days he can still hear Taehyung’s sleepy whisper,
“You’re so loved, hyung. Love you so much.”
Things got better after that. Not perfect, but better. Yoongi found himself being pulled into a hug one day, given an involuntary piggyback the next. He thinks Taehyung must have told the others, too, given how Namjoon now awkwardly pats his back as they part ways outside their favorite bar, but he can’t be mad. While he may verbally protest, he’s silently thankful for being not-so-silently loved.
Jungkook on the other hand...Jungkook wouldn’t call him hyung anymore. Jungkook hasn’t even spoken a word to Yoongi since. Yoongi wanted to apologize, but Jungkook had avoided him for weeks after the party, practically running away from him. It was painful, even 3 years later, to respect the space Jungkook had put between them, but Yoongi knew he had no choice.
“Wh...huh? Hate you?” Yoongi echos, shaking himself back into the present moment. He didn’t hate Jungkook...far from it, in fact. Jungkook was warm and good and soft. Jungkook hated him. Hated Yoongi for being so cruel to him, as he should; never once looked Yoongi in the eyes after that awful outburst. It was awkward sometimes but Yoongi stayed out of his way and refused his friends’ attempts to mediate, too ashamed.
He can feel his brow furrow as he stares on, confused by the words from the rain-soaked man in front of him, large frame suddenly looking so small as tears begin to slide down his cheeks. Yoongi still can’t find the right words, so he does the only thing he can think of and opens his arms.
Jungkook practically collapses into the embrace, struggling to stand, choking out broken apologies. Yoongi lets him cling to his warmth; wraps his arms around broad shoulders to pet the hair at the base of his neck. The boy whimpers at the gesture, and Yoongi doesn’t think he has ever felt so guilty.
“Shh, shh it’s ok. You’re ok, hyung is here.” Yoongi tries, willing himself not to tear up as he guides them inside, “What happened?”
Now it’s Jungkook that can’t seem to find his words, the honorific catching him off guard, face crumpling as he points to a bruised and swollen ankle. Ah, that’s right. Yoongi wraps him back up in a hug, soft and kind, resting his head atop the younger’s as they settle on the couch.
“Let me go find you some dry clothes, and maybe some ice, ok? I'll make tea, too. You can just rest here.”
Jungkook nods, sniffling, eyes still glued to the ground. Yoongi can’t take this anymore. He kneels down, slides his hand under Jungkook’s jaw to tilt his gaze upwards.
“Hey, I absolutely do not hate you.” he says, forcing eye contact as best he can, “I feel really stupid, actually. I thought you hated me,” Yoongi can feel his cheeks burn as he stumbles through the apology he should have been bold enough to give years ago, “I’m so sorry. I was jealous and I was awful to you, you have every right to hate me. I understand if you do.”
Jungkook practically gasps, eyes wide and eyelashes clumped with tears, “Hyung no, no y-you looked so sad and...and I saw it, but then I said the wrong thing and I,” he hiccups, “I hurt you, and I knew you were mad and I was s-so ashamed, I never even said sorry.”
Yoongi's eyes are wet as he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. Yes he had been hurt, but only because of his own spiraling thoughts. He could never hate Jungkook for that.
“Well consider the apology accepted,” he smiles softly as he thumbs away fresh tears from Jungkook's cheeks.
“And please accept mine. It may have been a bad day but I hurt you, too. I had no right to do that.”
“Apology accepted...hyung,” Jungkook finally offers up a smile, voice still thick with emotion.
Yoongi’s heart aches again. This time, as it threatens to burst. He knows there's a faint blush high on his cheeks, sees it reflected across Jungkook's face.
“Uhm, Hyung?” a small voice starts, breaking the silence that had fallen over them, “Earlier, you said you were jealous. C-can I ask why? Was it because of Tae? Was I too clingy?”
Yoongi nearly chokes on his tea, his hand stilling where it had started mindlessly petting Jungkook’s hair. They’ve been settled on the couch for the better part of an hour, Jungkook draped over his lap, snuggled up in the remnants of Yoongi's Friday night blanket cocoon.
“Ah...I don’t know. It was a long time ago.” he tries, hoping he sounds convincing. The pout starting to form on the younger man’s face tells him he doesn’t.
With a sigh, he tries again, “I...I mean, I’m not like you? I’m not affectionate, or whatever. I have bad days, I reject affection even if I want it. Sometimes it kinda feels like I don’t deserve it because… I mean, I’m not...I-I don’t know…” he trails off.
“Oh, hyung.” Jungkook breathes, sitting up, ignoring Yoongi’s yelp as he’s pulled into a crushing hug. “Hyung, I'm gonna give you so many hugs.”
“...you know, maybe I do want you to hate me after all.” Yoongi teases, finally melting into the embrace, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. Jungkook throws his head back, nose scrunched with the most genuine smile.
When Tae does show up, knocking loudly right on cue at three AM, he’s understandably confused to find his glorious weekend sanctuary (Yoongi’s couch) occupied. After a glass of water and several repetitions of “wait, so what happened?,” things finally settle down...sort of. Yoongi and Jungkook find themselves stuck in the living room for at least another five minutes, trying not to laugh at the very drunk and very emotional art student in front of them blabbering about how happy he is, this is the best night of his life, etc.
The next morning, Yoongi’s heart still feels like it might burst as Jungkook laces their fingers together under the breakfast table. He almost falters in his grumbling about the two boys disrupting his Friday evening, but quickly recovers; rolls his eyes instead as Taehyung giggles.
"Sorry hyung," they chime in unison, sharing a look that Yoongi's tired brain doesn't quite understand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders what trap he just walked himself into.
As Yoongi sips his coffee, he makes sure to give Jungkook's hand a gentle squeeze. Maybe this not-so-silent love isn't so bad.