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Being away from home for forty-two consecutive days in a row can do terrible things to one’s psyche. By the time SeokJin lands back on the tarmac of Incheon Airport, he’s already half-forgotten who he is at his core. He calculates that it’s going to take him another thirty or so days to recover from being overseas, perfectly aligning in time for him to be back on the road for the next tour leg. How lovely.
Solitary confinement is the initial plan. Only –
Only Choi Beomgyu has beaten him to his own plan. Already sitting on Jin’s solitary couch when he opens his door, playing Maple Story, one Beomgyu-shaped hand greasing up one of his controllers with the bag of salty chips Jin had been saving for when he returned home.
And yeah, sure, there’s 5% of Jin that is annoyed. Annoyed that he didn’t invite Beomgyu over, that he never invites Beomgyu over, that he’s settled in somehow in all of Jin’s spaces as if he already belongs there, but the other larger 95% of him has come to terms with the interruption. It’s nice to have someone to come home to. It feels like an anchor. Like his constant. It happens so suddenly too, without permission. Just Beomgyu getting his number one day, and then texting all the time afterwards without much preamble:
cbg: hyung r u home
cbg: hyung wanna play lol
cbg: hyung, what’s ur code
It’s a fading memory, Jin knows, but his members used to be that for him. The anchor that kept him grounded when his mind floated to bottom of the sea, wandering.
Beomgyu pauses the game, one greasy finger stuck on the controller, looking up at Jin and his pieces of luggage expectantly.
“Hyung! Welcome home Jin hyung! Game?”
The responsible thing to do would be to say no. Would be to say I’m tired. I need to unpack. I have jetlag. I need time alone. Lift the anchor up and plunge it back into the endless dark waters. Instead, Jin drops his duffle on his floor and puts on his house slippers, stepping further into the abyss.
“Sure. After I shower.”
Beomgyu curses a lot when he games. A litany of curse words spills out of his innocent looking mouth anytime he fears he’s close to losing against Jin: shit, fuck, bastard, damn, jerk, bitch, bitchass bitch, motherfucker, sometimes even in a variation of Korean and English. It’s very Jungkook reminiscent. Jin would hardly say they look similar, but their personalities are equally adjacent to that of dogs. He even thinks Beomgyu favors one sometimes: bright eyes, eager disposition, fluffy hair. All he’s missing is the wagging tail. Puppies get triggered by the word walk. Beomgyu gets triggered by the word game.
“Beomgyu, you wanna game?”
Beomgyu’s Tail: wag, wag, wag. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Beomgyu swears he could game forever. Beomgyu swears a lot of things. Jin also feels like it’s on brand for Beomgyu to swear this and then get sleepy after only an hour of gaming. The jetlag oddly rejuvenates Jin to be wide awake, because his brain is still in Pacific Standard Time, whereas Beomgyu’s been stuck here waiting, eyes half lidded, falling asleep with his innocent looking mouth wide open.
“Can I spend the night?”
“Yes.”
“Can I shower?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, hyung. Waited so long for you, hyung. Got tired, hyung.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Beomgyu swears he once slept thirty-seven hours in a row. Jin doesn’t question it. He believes him.
“Go wash up,” Jin prods gently. He’s not sure if it comes across as a hyung or a parent or like a dog owner. Either way, Beomgyu nods through his sleep and makes his way to the restroom.
Jin turns off the television and makes his own path down the hallway. His room is still in pristine condition, almost the way he left it, but he can tell something is off. Beomgyu is very clean and orderly like him, part of the reason they cliqued so easily, and he usually cleans up well after himself (greasy remote being the exception), but Jin can tell Beomgyu napped in Jin’s room prior to his arrival. There’s a slight soft dent in the silk pillowcase.
The first time Beomgyu had ever spent the night, Jin had offered him his guest bedroom, see, to which Beomgyu had scoffed, “If I wanted to sleep alone, I would go back to the dorm and sleep in my own bed.”
So now Jin’s bed is his bed when he’s here and so on. Such a simple undertaking. Jin wonders if there’s a clause against it written somewhere in their Big Hit contracts. Something forbidding members of different boy groups from crossing over like this. A cross contamination of sorts.
When Beomgyu returns, freshly showered, wagging his wet hair around, equivalent to a puppy, Jin can smell his expensive toiletry items wafting in the air. His body soap that lathers really well, his shampoo that favors the scent of laundry, the minty toothpaste he bought in a bougie looking pharmacy in Beverly Hills because he had tagged along with Yoongi on a side quest and felt weird about leaving the store empty handed.
Jin wrinkles his nose, and sniffs the air with great exaggeration, amusing Beomgyu.
“You smell like me.”
“Yeah, well, you smell like home.”
Jin finds the statement confusing.
“You’re in my home.”
“Exactly.”
Jin wonders if this is what it means to imprint on something. Has he imprinted himself on Beomgyu?
Or has Beomgyu imprinted on him?
Anyway. Jin notices the navy green shirt Beomgyu has borrowed is completely oversized. Jin is slim like Beomgyu but his shoulders lend out further which forces him to buy things in a bigger size, which in turn, makes Beomgyu look like a drowning toddler in them. The short sleeves threaten to go down to his dainty wrists.
“I can give you something else,” Jin says, turning to his massive closet, “I’m sure I have something in here that will fit you better.”
Beomgyu wags his tail, shakes his head, no.
“No, no I like this hyung. Reminds me of Soobin’s shirts. I sleep in those a lot too.”
Jin learns a lot of things about Beomgyu like this. Involuntarily. Unpromoted. Just casually handed over to him as a fact. Like Beomgyu likes wearing Soobin’s clothes. Jin assumes this means there is more of a story there, but he doesn’t like to prod. He knows how confusing the intersecting paths of being in a boy group can be. Instead, he pockets the fact for later, safe in the pocket of his linen pajama bottoms.
When the lights go dim and they are nestled close under Jin’s duvet, the questions come.
“Do you wanna talk about your trip, hyung? The tour?” Beomgyu asks, full of polite inquisitiveness.
“Not really.”
“’K.”
Beomgyu grows still. Jin turns the light out all the way. Pitch black. Jin is envious. Now by nature, he knows that Beomgyu is a fast sleeper. Another fact he’s stored in a pocket somewhere. Jin asks something out loud, anyway.
“Do you fall asleep in Soobin’s room a lot too?”
Beomgyu rustles. Jin can tell Beomgyu has turned and is facing him now. The minty fresh breath smell comes closer, not that he minds.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Is he your safe space in the group?”
“Yeah. It was hard when he was gone.”
Right. Jin forgot about that. It’s easy to forget what’s happening elsewhere when you’re so caught up in only what’s happening around you.
“Was it hard for you? When you were gone?”
“Yeah. Isolating,” Jin had been so isolated in the military. Without the others. Without his safe space. Jungkook. Jungkook didn’t get it. He had Jimin in the military. He’d never had a day alone to himself in his whole fucking life. Jin never wants Beomgyu to experience that. “Did…did you ever want it to be anything more? With you and Soobin I mean.”
In the darkness, Beomgyu scoffs loudly. Makes a disgusting gagging sound, even though he smells so minty fresh and clean.
“God, no, gross. He’s like my brother!”
Jungkook’s technically like Jin’s brother too, funny that.
And being brothers means you’re not supposed to. You don’t really think of one another in that sense. But the line got blurred for Jin somewhere along the way, he now realizes, talking to Beomgyu about it.
And the worst thing is, he’s not really sure when it happened.
Beomgyu becomes good at memorizing Jin’s schedule. He knows it like the back of his hand, maybe more so than his own. Jin learns not to question anything. Jin learns not to question that Beomgyu conveniently knows when he’s home, when he has a night off.
Beomgyu is also a self-proclaimed good drinker. Jin can see it the first time Beomgyu ever invites himself over for a drink via text.
cbg: hyung wanna drink? let’s not tell anyone, k?
jin: ‘k.
Jin is a self-proclaimed good drinker too. He can hold his liquor. It’s one of their more similar traits; the only difference is how immediately Asian Flush Jin gets. Down his throat, all over his neck, red, red. Green, green. Beomgyu gets that way too, just not as instant. Beomgyu gets chattier when he’s inebriated, more transparent with his thoughts. It’s how Jin slowly starts to become a walking encyclopedia on all things Choi Beomgyu, even without meaning to. He’s thought about quitting the group, numerous times, ever since he was a trainee, Could you tell hyung? I thought about quitting yesterday because I didn’t like our new choreography but it’s fine now. Jin never has to ask. Beomgyu offers all the information with every single sip. He knows that Beomgyu has a strong irrational fear of tomatoes. He’s a sensory eater, he doesn’t like seafood much either, Hyung, hyung, hyung did you know? When his puppy hair gets in his eyes, he combs it away with his pinkies up. He blinks a lot when he spaces out. He’s fidgety. He always has to touch something. Jin’s gaming controllers. Jin’s eyeglasses that he keeps on his nightstand. The inside of Jin’s wrists searching for his pulse. The inner seams of Jin’s jeans when they’re drinking, picking at a loose thread making it bigger. The way he could sleep forever if he wanted to. Did you know that hyung? That I’m a good sleeper? Hyung, hyung, hyung, did you know?
Yes, yes, yes.
Still, Jin learns so much. The way Beomgyu gets progressively cocky and self-assured the more he drinks is kind of endearing too. He supposes it’s supposed to be annoying. The chest puffing out, the posturing of an arrogant jaw. It’s so self-practiced. A question comes out from Jin, rare.
“Who do you drink with most in the group? Soobin?”
“No, Soobin’s lousy at drinking. He’s barely got a half drink in him before he folds.”
“Oh. That’s funny.” Jin thinks that’s funny. Soobin is so tall and grand. Jin wonders what it would be like to drink with all of Tomorrow x Together. Maybe he should invite his hoobaes out for a drink sometime. Someday. He used to drink with his members before. Back in the day.
They used to be just like them.
“I drink with Taehyunnie sometimes. He’s good at drinking...Taehyunnie is good at everything.”
Beomgyu’s voice drifts off as he says this. His voice has a dreamy quality now, Jin picks up on.
“Jungkook’s good at drinking too.”
“Is Jungkook your favorite, hyung? You talk an awful lot about him sometimes.”
The goosebumps on Jin’s flushed throat feel prickly. He feels translucent somehow.
“We’re not supposed to have favorites. Members, I mean.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
“Well, is Soobin yours then? You talk about him the most.”
“No. Soobin’s just my best friend. My soulmate. It’d be weird if I didn’t talk about his existence.”
The conversation feels like it’s taken a turn in existentialism. Jin doesn’t mind it though. He plays with the rim of his wine glass. It makes a flute-like sound.
“A best friend can be your favorite.”
Beomgyu downs the rest of his drink. He looks shy. He does that thing with his lips where he twists them cutely. His innocent looking mouth.
“My favorite is Taehyunnie. I thought I was obvious about it.”
Jin unlocks a new fact about Beomgyu.
A confession.
In retrospect, Jin doesn’t realize how he didn’t see it before. He slowly notices the difference between the way Beomgyu talks about Soobin like he’s already a given part of him, compared to the way he talks about Taehyun like a piece of himself that he hasn’t acquired yet, at least not completely.
The Beomgyu dictionary begins to fill.
Jin wonders if there’s a clause in their contract about posting comments on each other’s Weverses. If Moas would get jealous with all the facts he knows about Beomgyu. If Army’s would get jealous with all the facts that Beomgyu knows about Jin. Vice versa.
Next time he’s in the Hybe building he’s going to acquire a copy of it. Read it for shits and giggles, confide in Beomgyu the lines he finds most egregious inside it, then cross it out with a fine red ballpen.
The drinks settle nicely in the pit of Jin’s stomach. Fingers curl around the glass. It feels warm and bubbly and makes him want to ask another question. Indulge the curiosity, like Beomgyu has no qualms on doing so.
“When’s the first time you realized that Taehyunnie was your favorite, Beomgyu?”
Beomgyu pretends to think a little, before his own cheeks flush with a scarlet tinge.
“Probably the first time I saw him lift a dumbbell.”
It’s funny, because Jin can remember the first time he ever saw Jungkook working out too, in vivid technicolor flashback, the determination of grit sparkling in his eyes, how he clenched his teeth, muscles straining.
Another thought surfaces. About how people thought Taehyun looked like baby Jungkook when he debuted. He never really saw it much, but now Jin is wondering if him and Beomgyu are connected for the same reason.
They have the same type. Boba eyes, strong drive.
Red, red.
And then the static thought soon after, that Jin probably wasn’t supposed to ogle and be mesmerized by his little brother that way.
Holy, incest.
When SeokJin is back on the road, Beomgyu goes back to communicating with him via pictures over text.
cbg *picture frowning over a tomato*
cbg: *picture of new shoes*
cbg: *picture of a wrist with a watch that looks just like Beomgyu’s watch*
Jin ponders. It looks like maybe Taehyun’s hand and watch.
cbg: *picture of him eating on Jin’s counter*
cbg: *picture of him playing a video game on Jin’s floor*
cbg: *picture of him sleeping on Jin’s pillow*
Just a bombardment of various pictures over Jin’s home, treating it as if it’s his own. It’s so absurd that Jin has to laugh about it. Jungkook happens to pass by backstage while Jin’s getting his hair done and hovers from behind while Jin’s scrolling through them. Never responding, just scrolling. Breath behind him stale, a little dank.
“Since when are you guys so close? You’re closer to them than us now….Than me.”
The statement is laced with jealousy. It’s masochistic, Jin knows, but maybe that’s been the end goal all along. The voices inside his head tell him to say something like, You’re not available. Your heart is elsewhere now, but it drips with immaturity. And jealousy back. And Jin is not the type to concede his own feelings like that, out in the open.
So instead, he replies with a clipped, “He’s a good dongsaeng. He’s lonely.”
“Yeah, well, no one is forcing you to be lonely now. I’m back. We all are.”
Jin knows Jungkook will never get it. He didn’t enlist first. He didn’t come back first. He didn’t go on a worldwide tour alone and do variety shows alone to keep the name of the group alive and running in good faith. He didn’t know what it felt like to come back to an empty house and not have a girlfriend of the week waiting for him.
Jungkook’s wearing a fitted muscle tank, fresh from a workout. It’s Jungkook’s turn to sit down and get his make-up prepped, so Jin takes the initiative for him, beckoning a make-up artist over.
Jin knows he’s been snide. He’s a masochist, remember. Still, he points to the back of Jungkook’s arm, abrasively.
“Don’t forget to cover that tattoo up before we go on stage.”
The make-up artist frets, clucks her tongue over them.
Jungkook’s large bulbous pupils go dark.
Flattened, unable to resuscitate.
Seokjin doesn’t dream about kissing boys. Jin theorizes that he stopped dreaming a long time ago, around the time he was a mere trainee that was conditioned to solely dream about being on stage. And then the dream came true, and he was on stage, and dreaming seemed like a scary plane of manifestation so he stopped himself from dreaming cold turkey.
So, he doesn’t dream about kissing boys. Or kissing girls. Or sex. If he could dream, he would will himself to dream about stability. Not like, living on an island far, far, away or another country even, but the stability of living a normal life in Seoul but in another realm where no one knows his name, where everything looks exactly the same and he was normal. So very normal with someone to come home to, every night.
Jin passively thinks that maybe he’s ready for change. Maybe the same way all the members were ready to move out of the dorms and into their own places years ago, when Jin had been the only one to think: I could live with you guys forever. Maybe, that was the beginning to the downfall of it all. So, a rare text back to Beomgyu unfolds:
jin: wanna move in when I come back?
cbg: aww hyung. sorry. ~ can’t~ ditch soobin :x huhuhu
It’s fine. Jin expected as much. Still, he notices a few changes when he returns home from the second leg of the tour. More than just the season turning, the brisk air of fall and leaves fading into a plethora of colors outside. There’s an extra toothbrush in his bathroom now, a spare phone charger on the nightstand he hardly uses. Food stocked in the refrigerator, Tupperware stocked to the brim, a loving post-it note abridged to the front in bright pink: my mother says thank you for taking care of me all the way from daegu.
You know what they say. To be loved is to be seen.
The pin pad at the door starts to make a beeping sound, someone pressing the code to come in. So few people have access to it. Must be:
Beomgyu.
No.
Jin is slightly surprised then to see Jungkook be the one to round the corner into the kitchen, hand offering bags of oily takeout and cheap liquor. He’s never been picky, never been one for refined taste even though he could be.
“Hyung. I thought we could watch a movie?” His eyes are more hopeful than the last time it was just the two of them left alone talking. Kind of like he’s searching for an acceptance of an apology even though there’s nothing to apologize for.
Jin can add it to his list of bad traits beyond being a masochist. Hey, he’s also an asshole.
Or, as Beomgyu likes to call it while they are gaming: a bitch ass bitch.
Jin wonders if Jungkook even unpacked before coming over. They barely landed 48 minutes ago.
“What about your dog?”
“He’s still at my parents.”
What about your girlfriend? The secondary question sits at the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t dare to actually ask it.
Jungkook hands Jin over the takeout bag.
“Your place feels stuffy. Hot.”
Jungkook takes off his sweater. From this angle in the kitchen, Jin can see the tattoo on the back of Jungkook’s arm with startling clarity. It feels hypocritical, finding tattoos distasteful when he has one of his own. His has meaning though, they all have the same one, and that has to count for something, doesn’t it? Although who is to say that this inconsequential tattoo didn’t have a meaning of its own, at least to Jungkook…
Jungkook sits on Jin’s living room floor. It’s funny how he naturally selects the place that Beomgyu has a tendency to sit around, usually. Like he just knows. Jungkook finds something misplaced on Jin’s immaculate floor space.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a fidget spinner,” Jin answers, offhandedly, still riffling through the cheap drinks, pouring them into glasses. “Oh. Must be Beomgyu’s.”
Jungkook lifts it up, makes a face.
Later, Jin thinks that Jungkook is trying to get him drunk on purpose. His head is splitting. He’s laying back on his sofa and Jungkook clamors over, collapsing on top of him with nonstop laughter. Jungkooks’s socked feet are tickling his. For all his self-proclaimed good at drinking declaration, Jungkook can outdrink Jin like an army tank, a bottomless pit of alcohol, and the alcohol stenches on his mouth as he laughs on top of Jin, so incredibly burdensome. Jin makes no effort to throw him off, however. His arms are restrained on his sides, bound by Jungkook’s muscled weight.
“You’re heavy,” Jin complains.
“Yeah, so?”
Something unfamiliar displays on Jungkook’s expression.
“Can I spend the night?”
It sounds like a bad idea. They’ve spent over eighteen months on the road together. But one night at home together sounds way worse.
“I don’t know,” Jin mumbles, “Maybe.”
In Jungkook’s world, maybe always means yes.
Just like Beomgyu.
Jin doesn’t remember falling asleep. Or making it to his bedroom.
But for the first time in years, he does remember dreaming. Dreaming about kissing a boy. He dreams about kissing Jungkook on the sofa. Languid and slow kisses. Like lovers who have kissed previously, over and over, time and time again. Jungkook’s lips are soft and he presses all of his weight into Jin when he kisses him, taking the lead, and Jin’s heartbeat in his dream feels like drums with a heavy thud, thud, thud, just the way kisses with boys in dreams should be.
He wakes up to reality, Jungkook generously warming up the food that Beomgyu’s mother has gifted him, also stirring over a smelly pot of hangover soup on the stove.
“I gotta go the gym, hyung? Wanna join me after you eat?”
“No. I have jetlag.”
Jin tries to sit up from the sofa. Everything hurts. Everything’s groggy.
“So do I.”
“I’m hungover.”
Jungkook’s eyes twinkle fondly when he looks over at Jin, accepting defeat.
“So am I.”
cbg: hyung. game?~
Beomgyu is strangely giddy the next time he comes over. His lips are twisted in that funny way, his tell. Jin lets him pick the game, Star Craft, but Beomgyu isn’t even pretending to be absorbed in the game. Jin eventually pauses it. Beomgyu takes it as an invitation to confess willingly.
“I kissed Taehyun.”
Jin usually doesn’t ask follow up questions. He always lets Beomgyu tell his stories at his own pace, set the buildup. But today, well, Jin wants to know everything. At least the first question is answered.
Who? Taehyun.
what, when, where, why, how?
Beomgyu talks fast. As if he’s used to someone interrupting him when he pours his heart out. Soobin or Yeonjun, probably, Jin thinks. Beomgyu hardly takes a breath.
“It was stupid. And nothing really. He asked me to go work out with him. I hate working out with Taehyun. He’s so good at it. It’s not like when I go working out with Soobin and Huening Kai. The three of us compete, see, but we also equally give up around the same time too, easily. Taehyun works out like it’s a part of his essence. Engrained in his core. I mostly watched him work out. Watched the way he liked working out. After he asked me to spot him, he lifted his shirt up when the set was done, checking his work. Hyung, I could see all the abs and muscles and veins. Hyung, I saw everything. And you know Taehyunnie? He’s got the biggest belly button. It’s large and circular. I wondered what it would be like to come inside of it. Is that weird?”
They haven’t been drinking today, but Jin can tell by the way his own breath feels stifled that his neck is probably flushed red.
“Yes.”
Jin doesn’t want to hear this part of Beomgyu’s intrusive thoughts. His sordid fantasies. There’s got to be a clause in the contract about oversharing, certainly. Beomgyu doesn’t seem bothered though, continues.
“So, I went up to him. I wanted to stick my finger in his navel. I touched all his muscles, mesmerized. I kind of like touching stuff, you know?” Yeah, Jin knows. “He looks like a Greek god right after he works out, all glowy and sweaty. I said you’re so good at everything Taehyunnnie. It felt like I was in a trance. And Taehyunnie, well, he always just lets me do whatever I want. He’s not like Soobin and Yeonjun. He never really tells me no. So I try not to take advantage of that. Because I’m the hyung, you know? But I was in this daze. I didn’t ask for permission. I just walked up and did it. After all these years.”
“But didn’t you worry about the aftermath? About the group? Or even, like your friendship? The future.”
“Well, no. not really. At least, not in the moment. His lips. They were a little dry, probably dehydrated from working out. It was short, the kiss. Even in the moment, I was scared someone would walk in on us and ruin it. I kept it chaste. But my lungs were on fire, hyung. I could feel everything when our lips met, hyung, like his heart beating inside out. And when I pulled back, I saw that Taehyun was blushing. His chest was turning splotchy and his nipples were pink and he couldn’t look me in the eyes.”
“And?”
“And he said thank you. And then we finished working out. He made me do two more reps before we left.”
“And?”
“That was it.”
It sounds so simple, Jin thinks. There’s an evil voice in his head trying to predict the future for Beomgyu. The evil voice says the fall out later will be ugly; a kiss cannot happen without some type of vindictive aftermath, the impossibility of a happy ending too unlikely to happen in the environments they’re in. Maybe not immediately. But maybe if they kiss again. And keep kissing. And the others find out. Or if Beomgyu’s fantasy about coming inside Taehyun’s navel becomes true and cannonballs into ruining the group.
But Beomgyu looks so happy.
It’s hard not to feel happy for him over a simple, singular kiss. Beomgyu resumes the game. And this time it’s Jin who pretends to be interested in playing.
They’re back on the road. The third leg of the tour is in Europe. Jin’s always been partial to Europe. The croissants, The Leaning Tower of Pisa, the way the people are so unapologetically rude to him and anyone who looks foreign, a dime a dozen, they say.
They’re backstage, between sets in stuffy leather outfits with lots of chains and zippers when Jungkook approaches Jin.
“We broke up.”
Jin’s heard this before. Only this time, Jungkook’s eyes are not rimmed in red when he says it. It makes Jin wonder with invitation if this is permanent. If Jungkook’s planning on getting back together with her the second he steps on Seoul soil. All the questions pop up in Jin’s head, the same way he questioned Beomgyu: who, what, when, where, why, how?
Again, at least the who part has been answered.
He settles on one.
“Why?”
Jungkook shrugs. The leather around his shoulders makes a squishy sound.
“I don’t know. I guess I just choose you guys over love in every version of our story.”
“Me too,” Jin says back. It’s a lie. He doesn’t choose the group over love the same way Jungkook does. To him, it’s the same exact thing. Semantics, maybe. Or maybe like Beomgyu, a confession that’s not ready to come to the surface yet, after all these years.
Jin stands up from the table, ignores the sound of all the leather slopping together. He leans over and gently kisses Jungkook on the forehead, right between the parting of where his bangs split open.
Jungkook makes that face again. The indecipherable one. Jin used to think Jungkook was an open book to him, much like Beomgyu. Now, he’s not so sure.
“You kiss me like how my mom kisses me.”
That idle thought floats in Jin’s head. The one that takes him out to the sea, in the dark abyss. It’s not the time, not today. Later. Maybe when they’re doing something mundane together, like cooking pasta or something. Years from now, maybe just months if he’s lucky.
There’s an opening of skin around Jungkook’s biceps. A nude bandage hides his tattoo well. The stylists wanted to show Jungkook’s toned and huge muscular arms between the leather. Jin takes the opportunity to bend over and playfully bite the bare skin, leaving slobber and bite marks and a surprised looking Jungkook. It’s very reminiscent of the way things used to be. Jungkook’s pupils dilate happily to another dimension. Jin jabs a finger into Jungkook’s skin, watching the bite marks sink in, leaving a sore mark.
Something the fans will see.
“Better?”
A nod.
Maybe Jin’s allowed two anchors in this realm.
cbg: hyung. game?~
jin: k. when i get back.
jin: i kissed Jungkook.
cbg: what? when? where? why? how?