Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4122945.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jeongguk_|_Jungkook/Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin
  Additional Tags:
      fake_incest, age_gap, slight_sci-fi, Mentions_of_homophobia, social
      taboo, jungkook_is_forever_17_ha_ha_ha
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-11 Completed: 2015-12-29 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 21052
****** the neverland problem ******
by markerlimes_(sunmi)
Summary
     The first problem is, of course, that Seokjin is now 22 and Jungkook
     is still 17. The second problem is also that Jungkook will forever be
     17. Slight sci-fi/magical realism au
     a twist on an otherwise angsty prompt: “we promised each other to
     meet again on your birthday and that I would kiss you on the lips and
     we would have our fairytale, but you never made it there.”
Notes
     as usual, i blame e for everything. thank you r for giving this a
     preliminary read through and telling me that this fic sounds like
     it’s set in the rural south in the 70s. that’s what i get for
     listening to hozier while writing this i guess...also this- please
     listen_to_this_before_reading | lyrics
     slight sci-fi themes (also known as the southern fauxcest au)
     !!!PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS CAREFULLY BEFORE PROCEEDING!!!
     Please turn back if content concerning minors in explicit situations
     bothers you.
***** all children but one, grow up *****
                                                                               
                                                                               
                                                          the neverland problem
 
 “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do
                                                                           it.”
                                                       ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
 
 
 
For as long as Seokjin can remember, there has always been an air of gossip
surrounding his family. 
The town is small no doubt, but Seokjin’s never been entirely comfortable with
the way people talk, and just from that it's not hard to guess why they talk.
People in town talk about their house- the old one on the corner of the street
hidden under the shade of the huge oak tree with an air of intrigue- because
for as long as anyone has ever cared, the old house under the oak has been the
keeper of two secrets.
The first is an open one: that the two sons of the Kim family are adopted.
Foster kids. That much was obvious to Seokjin, because Jungkook looked nothing
like Seokjin growing up- their blood types a complete mismatch and their smiles
just as much. 
Truthfully Seokjin has known for years, because he even remembers being picked
up at the orphanage. It wasn't horribly memorable and he wasn’t that young
either, but the couple was looking to foster an older kid- god knows why.
Seokjin had already been at the orphanage for far too long and the counselors
were thrilled at the slightest chance of adoption for him.
“This could be good for you,” they had said, promises sweet and fake even
though Seokjin didn’t know it at the time.
“You can’t stay here forever.”
So he packed up his bags at age 11 with what few possessions he had in a duffle
bag under one arm and a 6 year old kid he scarcely knew under the other. He
remembers the growl of tires against pavement as the car pulled up to the
driveway of the orphanage and the way Jungkook’s tiny fingers latched
themselves to the edge of Seokjin’s oversized shirt.
So yeah, the first secret isn’t even really a secret, but it’s the second one
that doesn’t sit as well with Seokjin. Beneath hidden whispers and wayward
looks of disgust is a rumor that the two boys are in love. Not a clean sort of
brotherly love either.
It’s not complete slander, but it makes Seokjin ill at ease knowing how
effortlessly everyone in town assumes.
When they were younger it could have easily been childish adoration, Jungkook
peeking over his shoulder to watch Saturday morning cartoons on TV- sliding
down to rest cheek to cheek with Seokjin, but now he’s not so sure. Seokjin's
never been the most observant, but even he can’t ignore the way Jungkook looks
at him sometimes. It’s not perverse, what Seokjin feels for his baby brother.
He loves Jungkook, sure, but not like that.
Or at least not yet because every time the thoughts come around Seokjin has to
tell himself that he can’t ever see Jungkook, all coy and boyish Lolita at 15,
like that, let alone reconcile it with the memories of raising Jungkook.
Growing up with Jungkook was a mess of scarred knees and splinters in the webs
of their fingers from climbing the old oak tree. Jungkook wasn’t a clumsy child
by any means, but between him and Seokjin, Seokjin’s become an expert in
dressing their wounds- blowing warm air across Jungkook’s bloody knees and
holding his hands when the rubbing alcohol stung too much. Whether he wants to
or not, Seokjin will always remember Jungkook chasing him through the years,
pudgy hands slimming down and forming callouses at the joints from being on the
middle school baseball team. He’ll remember driving him home and Jungkook’s
feet dangling from the school swing set, pouting whenever Seokjin came late.
They never went straight back home, preferring instead to mill around the park
or to climb trees too big to scale with Jungkook’s then short limbs. Despite
the splinters and scrapes, there was always a good reason for it.
Home is rough.
Seokjin can’t blame his foster parents for the way that they are, anymore than
he can blame himself and Jungkook for being the way that they are. They never
touch either of them, but the silent stares are enough for Seokjin to read
their mistrust. Where did I go wrong, they must wonder. Where did I go wrong to
raise not one but two of those things.
It’s never said out loud, but the implication is strong enough to make Seokjin
feel all wrong- like he’s some malformed creature that should have never been
allowed out in the daylight. It was enough that Seokjin spent the majority of
his grade school years self-conscious about his crooked fingers- thinking that
maybe, just maybe, they were a physical manifestation of everything wrong with
him on the inside. 
“Is it really that weird though,” Jungkook asks one evening, looking up from
his maths book like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Seokjin watches
him play absentmindedly with the buttons on his graphing calculator, no doubt
making patterns on the screen instead of actually using it to solve problems.
It's funny really, how school isn’t Jungkook’s strong suit, but nearly
everything else is.
“Yes,” Seokjin says, without lifting his head from his applied physics book
although he too would rather be out scaling trees or plucking pears from the
neighbor’s yard. The summer heat is beginning to set in, and in a few weeks the
grass would be dry and stiff, stabbing into the backs of their shirts as they
settled down on the parched ground. 
Outside the window, the cicadas chirp relentlessly and over that sound, Seokjin
listens to Jungkook’s soft breathing, a complicit understanding that the
interrogation wasn’t over.
“Is it though?” Jungkook proposes this time softer. He thumbs at the edge of
the crinkled pages, eyes searching Seokjin's.
“Mhmm.”
“But why. I mean yeah, but...c’mon Seokjin, think about it-”
“Jungkook,” Seokjin warns.
“I’m not even your real brother.”
“Don’t say that,” Seokjin’s neck snaps up, more forcefully than he means
because Jungkook flinches back.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. Jungkook never cried much as a kid, but Seokjin can read
him so easily, spotting the bottom edge of Jungkook's lip beginning to tremble.
“Sorry Kookie. I’m just not in the mood to talk about-” Seokjin drops his
pencil in favor of forming vague hand gestures into the air, but Jungkook’s
mind is already wandering.
“Then why is it wrong?”
The corners of his eyes are wet and Seokjin is a terrible brother when he lets
Jungkook wipe them up by himself. An even worse one when he moves forward to
scoop Jungkook into his arms because that’s what he always does- always will
do- but then Jungkook shifts.
He wiggles slightly, slim shoulders and fading tan line Seokjin remembers
rubbing aloe into, slidingacross Seokjin’s hands. His skin is hot, warmed by
the summer heat and Seokjin's embrace. Jungkook stretches forward, rising to
his tiptoes and without thinking Seokjin meets him halfway pressing a soft kiss
straight against Jungkook’s wet lips.
Outside the window, no one is watching but the summer’s oppressive heat is more
than enough to bear witness.
                                        
                                      ---
                                        
By fall, Seokjin leaves late by two years for college because they had to set
him back a year during the hectic adoption period and being a December child
means he didn’t make the age cut off to begin with. Schooling doesn’t come
easily to either of them, but Seokjin’s determined if nothing else to leave
this small cesspool of a town that gawks at him like he should be burned upon
sight. It breaks his heart slightly to know that Jungkook has no such
aspirations.
The first semester after Seokjin leaves for college half-way across the country
he gets exactly two texts from Jungkook. The first is predictably- “I hate you.
Don’t come home.” And the second, from more than a week later- “I miss you, but
don’t come home,” makes his guts twist in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
                                        
                                      ---
                                        
Seokjin comes home at the end of summer break to a Jungkook he barely
recognizes.
“Are you having a phase?” he says lightly from down the hallway, watching
Jungkook apply eyeliner from afar.
“Maybe,” he replies without even looking back. It should pain Seokjin just how
little Jungkook cares for his reaction, but Seokjin surprisingly doesn’t feel
anything beyond a light nostalgia. The town hasn't changed a bit since he left
over a year ago, seemingly frozen in time. The people here live the way they
always have, moving at a snail's pace down the convenience store line, chit
chatting about mundane town gossip and wondering if it'll rain tomorrow.
It feels familiar, yet so utterly foreign for Seokjin to settle back into this
archaic rhythm of life when everything this past year at college has been
vibrant- each day coming with a flurry of new knowledge, new faces, and the
brightest technology illuminating their lives. In comparison, home makes
Seokjin feel sluggish like he's moving at the same pace of the old mail man
that pushes morning papers down the street.
The only thing that seems to have changed the slightest in Seokjin's eyes is
Jungkook.
Distance has done them well, and the summer even better. Jungkook’s shoulders
have broadened slightly, his arms are nicely toned from hitting the gym every
day with his friend, Jimin.
That doesn’t change the fact that Seokjin still has nearly a half-foot on him
and that Jungkook’s still his baby brother. It also doesn’t change their
routine of watching crappy films and cartoon re-runs in the basement curled up
on an old garage sale couch across from each other.
“What’s college like?” Jungkook asks curiously, dipping his hands in the
popcorn bowl between them. In the shitty lighting of the basement, Seokjin
watches the edge of Jungkook’s shirt ride up as he reaches for the popcorn
again. It’s a sliver of pale belly, right above the navel- nothing Seokjin
hasn’t seen before, but his throat goes inexplicably dry.
“It’s different,” he says. There's no other way to describe it. Jungkook nods,
settling back onto the couch. His shirt rides up a little further and Seokjin
has to force his attention back onto the screen.
Not everything changes after all.
 
                                      ---
                                        
They do a better job of keeping in touch after that year. Before he leaves for
the start of fall semester, Seokjin gifts Jungkook with a tiny webcam and
watches an exasperated smile stretch its way across Jungkook’s face.
“I know how to use Skype,” he says flatly, watching Seokjin bend below the desk
to fumble with the wires. “I can figure it out.”
“Oh okay,” Seokjin coughs, choking on dust.
He straightens back up, not missing the way Jungkook’s eyes trace down his
form. Part of him wants to scold Jungkook, wants to set this whole thing
straight before it goes too far out of hand, but the problem is- Seokjin
doesn’t even know whatit is.
“Keep in touch?” Seokjin says offering a hand. Jungkook surprises him by moving
in for a hug on his own accord.
“Are you gonna visit?” he mumbles against Seokjin’s chest setting unease
against Seokjin’s conscious like sandpaper against bare skin. 
“I’ll try. No promises though,” he says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. The look of
disappointment in Jungkook’s eyes is almost enough to nail him on the spot, too
guilty to leave until his parent rush him through the door. There's no dramatic
fanfare for him as he boards the bus and watches the small town fade into the
distance- just the warm summer wind carding through his hair and the weight of
Jungkook's stare lingering in his mind.
 
                                      ---
 
"They chopped down the oak tree." is the first thing Jungkook tells him after
they manage to connect on Skype for the first time since summer.
Seokjin is silent for a minute, taking in Jungkook's miserable expression on
the pixaleted screen.
"Why'd they do that?"
A shrug.
"It's okay. We'll find another," Seokjin says, a little numb. "There were lots
more in the parks we used to go to."
Another shrug.
"It'll be okay," Seokjin repeats, fighting the tightness of his own throat.
Jungkook nods after a little bit, shoulders shaking slightly. Seokjin curls his
hand into fists, nails biting into his skin as Jungkook finally cracks and
twists away from the camera.
He watches silentlly like an intruder as pixel Jungkook begins to sob, quietly
at first and then unmistakably. Sound travels fast, nearly 350 meters per
second and somehow still not fast enough for Seokjin to feel close enough. The
Jungkook in front of him looks like a recording, like Seokjin is watching a
playback of their childhood. Only it all feels so wrong-  not because Jungkook
is crying, but because Jungkook is crying and Seokjin is not there.
Hyosang says nothing hours later when Seokjin curls up in his blankets and eats
dinner on bed- eyes flickering to the laptop screen absentmindedly.
 
                                      ---
 
“You on your computer again?”
Seokjin twists his head around to see Hyosang leaning against the doorway.
“Talking to Jungkook,” he explains. Hyosang reads the apologetic tone and
settles back onto his bed with a sigh. He props open a textbook and pretends to
read, watching Seokjin with a curious glance every now and then.
Seokjin ignores Hyosang’s antics behind him and turns back to the screen where
Jungkook’s working on his Algebra homework. The sight of Jungkook’s smile,
shitty resolution and all is better than none. Unsurprisingly it’s the best
thing Seokjin’s seen all week.
“You doing okay there, kiddo?” Seokjin asks, when Jungkook scrunches up his
nose in response to the next set of math problems.
“Yeah,” Jungkook sighs, chewing idly at the edge of his eraser. “This stuff
just doesn’t make much sense.”
“You should ask your teacher for help,” Seokjin suggests. “Maybe go after
school for tutoring or something. That’s what I did.”
“Yeah yeah,” Jungkook shrugs, looking back up at the screen. “Wish you were
here to help though.”
At that Seokjin laughs. “You don’t want that to happen, trust me. I sucked at
math. I could maybe ask Hyosang or my friend Namjoon to help. Namjoon's a total
whiz at math. Yoongi tells me that he tested out of college calculus back in
high school. You want him to help you, not me.”
Jungkook looks ready to argue back, when something crashes in the background.
“Gotta go,” Jungkook mumbles, grudgingly packing up his backpack. “Good night.”
“Good night. Have a good day at school tomorrow. Don’t forget to-”
“Got it,” Jungkook laughs, cutting him off. He looks off screen for a little
bit, making his expression hard for Seokjin to read.
“My birthday’s next week,” he says plainly. It's more a suggestion than a
statement and Seokjiin wants nothing more in the world than to be next to him.
He wants to hold Jungkook and stroke his crooked fingers through his hair and
tell him that he'll be there.
“I know,” Seokjin replies instead. It’s obvious that Jungkook’s fishing for
more to his answer, but Seokjin leaves it at that watching Jungkook dejectedly
pack up the last of his pencils until their call cuts off.
He lets out a sigh, settling back into his chair. It’s past midnight over in
his time zone and Seokjin’s on his way to the sink to brush his teeth when
Hyosang sits up from his position on the bed.
“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Hyosang comments offhandedly. He’s not
looking at Seokjin, still nose deep in his textbook, but his question pierces
straight through Seokjin’s weary gaze.
“Yeah.” He rolls the tube onto itself, trying to squeeze out the last bit of
toothpaste. “What about it?”
“Nothing,” Hyosang says. He flips to the next page of his book and continues
without preamble. “I just wish my sister and I were that close.”
There’s a wistful, yet taunting edge to his tone that Seokjin tries not to read
too deeply into. The panic in his chest settles after a moment. There’s no way
Hyosang knows.
 
                                      ---
 
When Jungkook turns 16, Seokjin makes a special day trip in the middle of the
week to celebrate. It's early enough in the semester that he can get away with
missing a few days worth of classes, even though Hyosang fixes him with a
disapproving gaze on his way out the door.
This time Seokjin throws Jungkook the keys and turns away before he can see the
smile play out on his brother’s face. Jungkook’s driving is steady, miles
better than Seokjin’s when he was still in high school, but that doesn’t
surprise Seokjin in the least bit. Jungkook is good at everything.
They drive out into the open, far past the point where the radio signal turns
into white noise and the roads turn rough and unpaved. Seokjin has Jungkook
park the car haphazardly, half on the road and half off into the tall grass.
Jungkook looks uneasy, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as Seokjin takes
a careful look around.
"Yep, this place looks good," Seokjin announces, swinging the passenger side
open to stretch his legs. Jungkook just keeps looking out at the field, hoping
to see something.
"What exactlyis this place?" Jungkook comments dryly. Maybe he'd been expecting
to go into the city, to have Seokjin take him bar hopping or something
exciting.
"It's home," Seokjin smiles sweetly, pulling at Jungkook's arm playfully.
"Let's go explore."
It's not the orphanage, but Seokjin's not wrong. Growing up, the two of them
spent more time at the local parks than at home.
The area before them is nothing special. To anyone else it would just be a
field- worth a half-second glance driving down the road at 60mph. To Seokjin,
there's nothing more beautiful. There's nothing quite like the freedom of empty
land- miles upon miles of tall grass bleached a pure, white gold under the
relentless sun. The golden shimmer stretches for an eternity, far past the
horizon and Seokjin thinks idly, this might be the closest they'll be to the
ocean.  It's almost fall and the sky is filled with birds, migrating to more
temperate climates. The clouds above them circle around, sprawled out lazily
like the work of an uncertain brush stroke.
Everything about the place is vast, empty, breathtaking.
Jungkook seems to think so too. The confusion and frustration bleeds out of him
the moment he steps out onto the field, closing his eyes to listen to the sound
of the wind carve ripples through the shimmering ocean. Slowly, he opens his
eyes again, smiling as he spots something in the distance.
Seokjin smiles as he follows his gaze out to the giant tree out on the edge of
the road.
Seokjin lays out a picnic blanket in the shade and watches Jungkook scale the
tree expertly. It's been their favorite past time since Jungkook was old enough
to reach the lowest branches near the base of their old oak tree and maybe even
a little before that.
“How’s the view?” he calls out, shielding his eyes from the sun when Jungkook
reaches the top.
“Come see for yourself!” Jungkook shouts, wind and exhaliration pouring from
his voice.
It’s a challenge if Seokjin’s ever heard one and he dusts his hands off,
smoothing them against the rough bark to take hold of. He hoists himself up,
smiling at the rough grind of bark against his palm. It's been a long time
since Seokjin has been out climbing trees, but it all comes back easily- like
re-learning to ride a bike. The pedals are rougher in the form of branches, but
it's just as natural to cycle through the lower half of the tree as Seokjin
propels himself through the thick canopy, suddenly weightless.
From above, he hears Jungkook laughter tinkling through the leaves like he's 12
again and Seokjin is chasing him through the branches as they sharing popsicles
in the muggy summer heat. The smell of bugspray in the warm air and the hint of
purple dusk in the sky triggers a deep sense of nostalgia in Seokjin.
The tree sways under their combined weight, protesting the sudden abuse. “Come
up higher,” Jungkook calls, waving his arms towards Seokjin. It sends a pang of
worry through his chest, watching the branch sway under their combined weight,
but Jungkook has better balance than him, always will.
“I think I’m good here,” Seokjin says, folding his limbs around the main trunk
like a koala.
“Weak,” Jungkook taunts but he comes down, weaving smoothly through the
branches as if he were climbing down simple stairs. He takes a seat next to
Seokjin and lets his feet hang freely.
“I’m out of practice,” Seokjin says, waving a hand in surrender. Jungkook
laughs in response, loud and carefree.
He settles back leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder, pressing his sweaty
forehead into Seokjin’s shirt.
“What’s it like?” Jungkook asks after a moment. "College I mean."
Seokjin goes to college two states away, but it might as well be in a different
universe to Jungkook who’s never set foot outside of the town they grew up in.
“It’s fun,” he starts. “The people are nicer.” He thinks of his small group of
friends. Hyosang tossing slushies at him from across the courtyard. Hoseok
drunk dancing on the street with a crowd around him, dragging him and Namjoon
by the wrist to their first frat party. Yoongi crawling to bed past sunrise and
awake only long enough to wolf down the morning pancakes Seokjin made for the
whole dorm during their first wave of mid-terms.
“Also a bit crazier.”
Jungkook’s nose scrunches up cutely. “Crazier like what?”
“Wilder I guess,” Seokjin says after a moment. “Everyone’s sort of young and
does whatever they want. That’s college I suppose.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jungkook says. It’s not hard to read to envy lining his
voice.
“It is.” Seokjin pauses.
So much has happened since Seokjin left for college and it's difficult to
relate them all back to Jungkook who seems frozen in time in comparison. It's
not Seokjin's fault for leaving, but he can't help the sharp stab of
irresponsibility when he thinks of Jungkook left back at home- crying alone as
they cut down their ancient oak tree or him watching Seokjin live his life
through the pixilated computer screen. Seokjin wonders how Jungkook can stand
the idea of not leaving for college.
The air between them feels stilted even as the wind continues rushing through
the tree. Fall is around the corner now. The leaves scatter around them like an
omen. Seokjin watches the shadow of leaves dance across Jungkook’s frown before
continuing. “I mean, it's a lot of fun, but it’s nothing like this. The people
there are super competitive about their grades. There are no trees big enough
to climb. You eat really shitty cafeteria food.”
“Even you?” Jungkook’s words are skeptical. “Even me,” Seokjin admits.
Jungkook's laughter is so warm, bubbled against Seokjin's arm. He's so close,
yet they've somehow never been further apart. Seokjin shifts, carefully
balancing himself to wrap an arm around Jungkook's shoulders when Jungkook
scoots back.
"You okay?" Seokjin asks, surprised.
"Yeah," Jungkook mutters, turning away. "I just-"
"Yes?" Seokjin asks. "It's your birthday Jungkook. Do whatever you want. Unless
you want me to jump off this tree, that's just mean."
"I'd never do that," Jungkook protests. He shifts again, closer than before and
Seokjin closes the distance between them just as easily. "Tell me what you
want, Kookie," Seokjin says, holding up his pinkie.
"Can I kiss you?" Jungkook asks shyly. They're miles up in the air, alone and
safe in their nest of leaves. Seokjin nods, throat dry as Jungkook closes his
eyes and leans in sweetly. The sound of wind covers them like a blanket,
shrouding their secrets and sins until there's nothing left but two boys under
the warm summer sun and the world beneath their feet.

                                      ---
 
They untangle themselves from each other and the tree long after the sun has
gone down, but the ground is still warm- radiating the heat absorbed through
the day back into their bodies. The lie spread-angled on the picnic blanket,
elbow to elbow, watching the sky lose warmth. There's no serenade through the
air, no songbirds singing from the trees, but Jungkook twists to the side, a
wayward smile on his face, and kisses Seokjin all the same. He's all warmth and
the smell of grass as he kisses Seokjin like they'll never be found and Seokjin
kisses him back twice just for God to see. They're lost in the middle of
nowhere, stranded with each other's bodies wound around like lifelines to trace
their path back home. The stars above them are bold, daring against the night
sky like they’ll never fade.
“Come home more often,” Jungkook mutters sometime between the pitch black of
night and the first rays of dawn. It’s so soft, so sad that Seokjin is caught
between thinking he dreamed it and wanting to believe he dreamed it.
 
                                      ---
 
There’s another dream that Seokjin has that turns too starkly into reality on
the day he returns the next year. His bags have barely even touched the floor
when Jungkook appears at the top of the stairs, bolting down to meet him.
“Welcome back,” he smiles. Seokjin eyes him openly, drinking in the sight of
Jungkook- taller, but still boyishly beautiful. He's lost weight in his face,
his cheeks slimming down to reveal a deadly jawline that Seokjin inexplicably
wants to trace his finger down.
“Been thinking about you,” Jungkook murmurs and the look in his eyes spells
trouble. His eyelashes flutter down, tracing Seokjin's form unashamedlly. The
warmth settling into Seokjin's chest twists, hungry.
“You too, kiddo,” Seokjin laughs back lightly, not missing the disappointment
in Jungkook’s eyes. Their mother clucks her tongue at them from the kitchen and
Jungkook snaps back in place, understanding.
“Do you need help with that?” he says, motioning towards Seokjin’s dufflebag.
Jungkook’s shoulders have gotten broader, not nearly as broad as Seokjin’s, but
he’s getting there.
“Sure,” Seokjin replies, trying to come to terms that he’s surprisingly okay
with himself. Seokjin shakes his head to clear it, unsure what all this really
means or if his mind is playing tricks on him. Distance makes the heart grow
fonder, but there’s no excuse for him checking out Jungkook like that and even
less for the way Jungkook basks in the attention- shooting Seokjin a sly smile
over his shoulder.
“You coming up or what?”
 
                                      ---
 
It’s on purpose.
Seokjin finds out later that evening when Jungkook brushes a socked foot up his
leg under the dinner table just out of their parents' sight. He traces the line
of Seokjin's pant leg, tickling his knee with the tip of his toes.
"How was the drive back?" Jungkook asks, smiling widely as Seokjin's knee jerks
up, slamming into the bottom of the table and jostling their silverware.
"Fine." Seokjin's grins back, glaring at Jungkook. He's keenly aware, paranoid
even, of the uneasy glances his mother shoots him. Jungkook continues,
completely undeterred, like he's been planning this for ages. He settles back
into his chair, scooting down further to reach the side of Seokjin's calf.
Seokjin's stomach drops at the look his mother sends them both as Jungkook
wiggles his toes, tracing them lightly down the side of Seokjin's calf.
"Umm. Bathroom." Seokjin calls out, excusing himself from the dinner table as
Jungkook grins behind his napkin.
The bathroom upstairs is too far so Seokjin opts to hide in the basement.
Everything on his skin feels too hot, arousal mixed with summer heat making for
the worst combination. He frantically splashes water on his face, fighting the
creeping arousal from showing fully on his face. Jungkook's grin surprises him
from the side as he pokes his head down the stairs.
"You okay?" he teases, fingers tickling the edge of Seokjin's arm. "You seemed
awfully flustered back there. Surely you couldn't have missed mom's cooking
that badly."
The look in his eyes is suggestive, a blatant invitation if Seokjin's honest
with himself. Jungkook bites his lip, letting it slide out from between his
teeth a bitten, rosy red.
"I didn't," Seokjin says rigidly. He bats Jungkook's hand away, and dries his
hands with a paper towel. Jungkook bites back a grin, shadowing Seokjin as he
paces back towards the stairs. Seokjin freezes, contemplating telling Jungkook
off in the basement before they returned to the main house when Jungkook rises
onto his tiptoes to press his lips flush against Seokjin's neck.
“Cut it out,” Seokjin hisses.
Jungkook's gotten taller, but Seokjin will always be broader. Jungkook's eyes
go wide, first in fear and then something darker, more primal, as Seokjin
pushes him away roughly. The two of them go stock still as Jungkook's back hits
the wall with a thud and Seokjin can't tear his eyes away from the way
Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs up slowly, and then down. Seokjin shakes him
again, rough and Jungkook lets out a small, nearly inaudible moan, but it's
there- soft, suggestive and god, all that's left is for Seokjin to lean in and
kiss him hard and drink in the sound of Jungkook whimpering into his mouth-
Seokjin jerks away from him like he's been burned. He coughs, arousal burning
through his defenses.
“What’s gotten into you lately?” Seokjin mutters watching the hurt pool itself
in Jungkook’s eyes.
“Lately?” Jungkook echoes sarcastically. “Not even you can be that dense, can
you Seokjin?”
He’s not. But it’s always been so much easier, feigning innocence in a
situation that’s anything but.
“Let's set this straight. You kissed me when I was 15 and left me back here
while you were off having the time of your life off at college,” Jungkook spits
out. Seokjin opens his mouth to protest, but Jungkook never gives him the
chance. “You left me here. Alone."
Jungkook pushes him off, fire in his eyes. "You came back when I turned 16,
took me out to a field and kissed me again. You disappeared for about a year
and now you want to know what's up?"
"We can't do this here," is all Seokjin can say before Jungkook rounds on him-
kissing Seokjin hard until they're both out of breath. He bites up against
Seokjin, all harsh and demanding like he's been waiting his whole life to do
it. Part of Seokjin is shell-shocked at the turn of events, but the darker,
more twisted side of him roars in jealousy, wondering how many boys, girls,
maybe both, Jungkook has kissed to have gotten this good. They break apart,
breaths harsh, and Jungkook crooks a finger into Seokjin's collar, reeling him
in closer and that's when Seokjin feels him pressing up against his thigh,
hard.
Jungkook's furious. Seokjin can read that much from the line of tension drawn
from his shoulders to the grind of his teeth, but this is completely unwarned.
Seokjin gulps in breaths, hands useless and clumsy as they push against
Jungkook like he's fighting to bring them both through uncharted waters- wading
through years of misunderstandings and secretive glances brought to a boiling
point. It's a miracle that they both make it onto the couch, Seokjin's mind
short-circuiting as Jungkook straddles him, the knobbiness of his knees digging
into the side of Seokjin's hip. They kiss frantically, a pure pulse of frenetic
want passing between them.
It's not a mistake, Seokjin wants to say even though he knows clear well every
mistake they've made together to get to this point- Jungkook, still not yet 17
and horny, curled up against Seokjin on the basement couch, eyes half-lidded
with want. There's fear in them too.
They shouldn’t be doing this, they’re brothers.
Foster brothers, Seokjin reminds himself, as if that tiny six-lettered word
makes any of this better. But Jungkook’s starved for the only attention that he
knows how to receive, practically keening into Seokjin’s lap. 
“I’m not your brother Seokjin,” Jungkook gasps. He's irresistible, so single-
minded that Seokjin feels his resolve slip. “Don’t tell me this is wrong. Don’t
tell me that I’mwrong.”
“Never. You’re not wrong, it’s not you,” Seokjin says, softly. He cradles
Jungkook’s head in his arms, petting through his hair softly. “It’s just that
even if we’re not brothers, you’re still-”
“I’m still what?” Jungkook bites, gasping out between his moans. “Too young?”
“Yeah,” Seokjin admits. It’s shallow, selfish, and ultimately only for his own
remaining shreds of morality, but Jungkook nods in understanding. He threads
their fingers together nervously and Seokjin can feel his rabbit quick pulse in
the space between them.
“I love you,” Seokjin says and that much of it will always be true. “But-” He
watches Jungkook’s bottom lip draw thin in anticipation. “Not here. Not like
this. I mean for heaven's sake, Jungkook- you’re still 16, you don’t know what
you want.”
“I’m two months away from being 17,” Jungkook whines, twisting to his side to
glare at Seokjin.
"And when I was 17, I didn't know anything," Seokjin interjects gently.
The color rises high in Jungkook's cheeks. "But I'm not you," he says.
"You're not," Seokjin admits. He sneaks an arm around Jungkook to curl around
his shoulder, relieved when Jungkook doesn't flinch away. "But you're still too
young. Let's wait until you're 18-"
“What difference does a year make? I’ll still love you next year and the year
after that too,” Jungkook says, childishly stubborn- and that's precisely what
he is, a child. Seokjin suddenly feels disgusted with himself. 
"It does. So much changes in a year, Jungkook," Seokjin argues back. The
stubborn glint remains in Jungkook's eyes. "You don't realize it now, but
things are always changing. Things are going to change."
“But we won't," Jungkook replies indignantly. Seokjin watches his emotions-
 confusion, anger, lust, loneliness- fight each other across Jungkook's face
until Jungkook finally turns away, defeated. He settles back onto the ratty
cushions, curling in on himself. Cautiously, Seokjin moves over to run his hand
across Jungkook's forehead, brushing back his too long bangs.
"Just one more year,” Seokjin mumurs softly. Jungkook's eyes search his, still
trusting. “I promise.”
Slowly Jungkook nods, the bowing movement of his head small and slight, but
maddeningly heavy. After a moment he turns and buries his head in the crook
between Seokjin’s shoulder and neck and leaves it there, breathing comfortably.
Seokjin can feel his pulse slow, Jungkook's soft hair tickling the side of his
neck. He pulls Jungkook in closer, feeling warm and sticky with guilty.
But this is the part Seokjin can play- the part he is used to, the role of the
upright, moral older brother. It's natural, it's right, but in the end Seokjin
caves too because he just loves Jungkook toofucking much to do anything
otherwise.
“One more year, I promise,” he repeats like a mantra. “I promise. I promise. I
promise.”
But then two months later, Jungkook turns 17 and never ages again.
***** prince of carrot flowers, let me be your king *****
 
 
The doctors can’t explain it.
(Which is blasphemy because at this point modern medicine has progressed to
building nanobots the size of near molecules to inject alkylating agents into
your cancer ridden cells, but they can’t tell Seokjin what the hell is wrong
with his younger brother.)
“His cells won’t age,” they say to a confused Seokjin, offering a hand of
consolation and Jungkook’s blood reports in the other.
Seokjin doesn’t know which hand to take. So he rejects them both, pulling
Jungkook with him outside the clinic. The air outside is clean, but not nearly
enough to clear the dizzying reality around them. 
Neither of them have been to the doctor in a long time since their parents’
health insurance couldn’t cover yearly checkups, but when Jungkook started
fainting about two weeks ago, nosebleeds and pale complexion haunting Seokjin
through the grainy skype screen, he couldn’t just stand by and watch.
He watches Jungkook now, curled up on himself- a small ball of Seokjin’s old
college sweater huddled on the concrete curb. He looks pale, frail and
bloodless, and the smile he gives Seokjin is a faint one. Seokjin watches the
wind fluff Jungkook's hair into his face and wonders if he'll always look that
painfully young. 
“C’mere,” Seokjin says, taking a seat next to Jungkook. The curb is hot against
his thighs, soaking warmth into his jeans, but Seokjin feels so, so cold. He
reaches a hand down to rub his thumb along the inside of Jungkook’s wrist, not
stopping until he finds his pulse. Jungkook feels even colder- a numb, clammy
combination of fever soaked skin and the sobering realization of sickness.
Jungkook sighs, leaning into Seokjin. His hair is soft, tickling Seokjin’s
chin.
“At least-,” Seokjin starts, but even after all this time he’s shit at offering
consolation. Jungkook’s hand finds his and threads their fingers together. It
feels final for some reason, even though Seokjin knows full well that neither
of them are going anywhere. His throat seizes up before he can force the words
out and Jungkook’s hand squeezes his tight until all their knuckles go white.
"It's okay," he says, determinedly bright. "I'm okay."
Seokjin just nods, feeling numb as Jungkook sighs again. He presses in
close, leaning his full weight against Seokjin's chest. Any other time the
action would send Seokjin into a panic, his eyes searching around the room to
see if there was anyone else looking. The only emotion he feels now is an
unbearable anger brewed from his confusion and reeking of helplessness.   
“I’m never gonna get to drink, am I?” Jungkook says sounding so unbearable
young that Seokjin has to pull his hand back. Something in him burns, hotter
than the scorched concrete. 
“No,” Seokjin answers softly. “No, you won’t.”
 
                                      ---
 
The one thing their foster parents do right in over ten years of parenting is
deny the media access to Jungkook.
They don't want the fame. The infamy even less. Seokjin understands even though
he wishes he didn't. 
In short, their parents want nothing to do with them and it’s only too easy for
Seokjin to get the papers he needs signed before the media sharks can scent
them out. They’ve had enough with their freak sons and Jungkook’s apparent
immortality is the last straw. It’s not for the reasons Seokjin wants, but it
gets the job done. 
“I don’t understand,” his mother says, eyes lost and glassy. She doesn’t look
at the papers on the table between them, her eyes constantly Seokjin’s
searching for an answer he doesn’t know. What's done is done.
She sighs heavily, suddenly so old with the thin threads of grey hair tucked
into her bun. Seokjin watches her struggle with the pen cap as her hands
tremble. She's only a dozen years or so too late. Seokjin's beyond plucking at
the strands of her new found guilt and the least he can do is not lash out at
them. He's got heavier things on his mind, like how he's going to take care of
Jungkook, how he's going to juggle college and medical bills, how he's going to
be Jungkook's source of stability when he's barely standing up right himself. 
“I don’t understand why,” she echoes, the wrinkles around her eyes have never
looked so pronounced. Seokjin watches her twist her fingers in her hands,
numb. 
The forlorn expression on her face makes it hard for Seokjin to feel angry.
Even after all this time, she’s still so delusional- in love with the idea of
children, but unwilling to stomach the reality of what they really are when
they’ve shed their innocence and grown up into real, sinful human beings. In
her white picket dreams, Seokjin’s due to marry a girl in a few years and bring
home a grandchild and repeat the whole cycle like clockwork.
To say he’s disappointed them is a bitter understatement. 
It’s not their fault (it never was, never will be) that Jungkook’s ill like
that, that Seokjin's not quite yet 22 and stuck saddling all the expectations
in the world, alone.
“Why what?” Seokjins asks softly. He keeps his voice neutral and removed. His
father turns sharply, anger brewing beneath his equally stoic expression.
“You know what,” he hisses. Seokjin’s not actually sure what he means. He
places his elbow on the table, leaning forward.
“Jungkook’s sick,” he says, ice cold. “That’s all I know. The doctor’s are
trying to figure out what else is going on, but they don’t know much more right
now.”
“What about you?” his father presses. Seokjin watches his mother latch onto his
arm to stop him from rising to his feet.
“I’m good,” Seokjin says as forcibly as he can muster. “I’m going to take care
of him.”
Outside the windows, he can see the local news crew circling the perimeter of
their house like a hoard of serious, half-suited vultures, their cameras
trained on every inch of movement behind the curtains.
If he were in better spirits, Seokjin would have laughed. It’s the
manifestation of every ounce of paranoia he's felt growing up. First the eyes
of his parents, the eyes of God, and now the world watching him as he takes
Jungkook down this path of apparent depravity. 
He rises to his feet, steps bold as he draws the curtains to a complete close
and watches with a flicker of satisfaction as his parents flinch. At last his
father sighs, pen scribbling across the sheets and hands them over to Seokjin.
They retreat back into their bedroom, leaving the hallway light on.
The paper in his hands is slightly damp and Seokjin’s thumb brushes across the
surface mindlessly. The ink smears slightly, staining the bottom of his thumb
blotchy and dark.
Seokjin presses his thumb to his index finger and watches the ink bleed into
the whorls of his fingertip.
 
                                      ---
 
Jungkook wobbles home at night from the hospital half a week later where they
drew more blood and flesh samples from him, hoping to root out the cause of the
phenomenon. He’s got fresh bandages wrapped across both forearms where they’ve
done the most damage. As far as Seokjin can tell, just because Jungkook is now
immortal doesn’t mean he heals like one.
He’s limping, breaths ragged by the time Seokjin pulls up at the front of the
hospital in his patchy soccer mom van 
“You’re on time for once,” Jungkook smiles bloodlessly. Seokjin needs to take
him away.  He’s not going to stand by and watch them stick his baby brother
like a premium lab rat hoping for some sick reaction. 
His movements are sluggish like he’s drunk and Seokjin watches him in concern
as it takes him a long moment to even focus his gaze on Seokjin’s face.
“Let’s get out of here,” Seokjin says, reaching a hand out. Jungkook takes it
unsteadily. 
In the midnight air, Seokjin rolls down the windows as he slams down on the gas
pedal. Behind them the town they both grew up in grows smaller and smaller in
the distance. The wind rushing through his hair is exhilarating, whispering the
promise of fresh starts and Seokjin wants so badly to be happy, but he can’t
find it in him to smile.
The head beam flashes across the road, tracing their path through the dark.
There’s a long way to go, no matter where they’re headed. He takes a look to
his right to see Jungkook huddled into a small ball on the passenger side. He’s
not moving, but Seokjin knows full well that he’s awake.
The silence between them stretches.
“Are you gonna miss home?” Seokjin asks lightly and Jungkook shrugs, looking
even smaller.
“Where’s that?
 
                                      ---
 
The early morning light seeps in through the windows by the time Seokjin finds
a motel that doesn’t scream drugs and human trafficking. It’s a small
establishment with a singular dim, red roof located on the side of the highway
they’ve spent the last six hours or so driving on.
Seokjin notes the lack of cars as he pulls into the small parking lot, rubbing
his eyes. They could use somewhere nice and quiet, even if it’s just for a few
days. The asphalt is loose beneath the car tires, smelling of kerosene and
loose dirt.
Seokjin’s neck feels numb, stretched tight from driving all night. Jungkook’s
passed out next to him, cheek plastered to the window pane.
“Hey Jungkook,” he says, poking at his chest. Jungkook always sleeps like the
dead and the hospital visits have left him even more out of it than usual. The
morning light only seems to highlight the ruffled state of his hair, tufts of
it sticking up like dry grass. Seokjin prods at him fondly, tickling beneath
his ribs.
“C’mon Jungkookie. Wake up. You’re too heavy for me to carry now,” he teases
with a light smile. Jungkook groans, shifting away from the intrusive touch.
 “You gotta wake up.”
He pinches a nipple, laughing under his breath when Jungkook jolts up and
proceeds to go straight back to sleep. He gives the other nipple a twist.
“Stop it,” Jungkook mumbles, the sound muffled inside his cheek. His brows
twitch in a disgruntled manner before smoothing back down into slumber. That
certain trick never seemed to work.
Seokjin has no choice but to tug again, harder- watching in satisfaction as
Jungkook’s eyes blink open finally. “Jungkook,” he whispers, tugging on
Jungkook's ear. “Wake up.”
“Are we home?” Jungkook’s tired smile greets him, weariness tucked behind his
sleep puffed eyes.
“Not yet,” Seokjin promises. He wishes he didn’t sound so eager. “But how does
a bed sound?”
Jungkook grins, warm and tired, before dropping his head back down. Seokjin
doesn’t even get a chance to protest before he hears Jungkook’s snores muted up
against the glass.
 
                                      ---
 
Roughly speaking, it takes Seokjin another 5 minutes to pull Jungkook to an
upright position and then another five for Jungkook to convince Seokjin that
he’s more than capable of standing on his own two legs.
“At this rate, you might as well have carried me,” Jungkook grumbles into his
shoulder as Seokjin drags the two of them into the modest lobby.
There’s not much inside, a small desk surrounded by raggedy, worn out carpet,
and a small receptionist who smiles brightly at them. “Good morning!”
"Good morning," Seokjin replies. He digs his hand into his back pocket,
rummaging around for his wallet. “Room for two, please."
The receptionist’s smile falters.
“Will that be one bed, or…,” she trails off uncertainly and the blush on
Seokjin’s face burns. Jungkook slides off his arm hesitantly.
“Two,” he says, shell-shocked from the bold implication. “Two please.”
Jungkook snickers. He hides his grin behind a yawn as Seokjin rounds on him.
The receptionist ducks down behind the counter to grab their room key and
Seokjin takes the opportunity to smack Jungkook lightly upside the head.
“Here you go.” She stands there with her arms outreached, an uneasy smile on
her face. Seokjin takes the keys with a small bow, unperturbed.
It’s not the worst he’s ever gotten.
                                        
                                      ---
 
Seokjin knows he can’t take Jungkook with him to college. It’s just not
possible, not practical to saddle the weight of college loans on top of what
they’re already facing.
So he quits. 
It sounds simple and for the first couple of days, it is. 
The only thing that's surprising to Seokjin at all is how easily the decision
came- how college itself seems like a distant memory at best. He looks at the
bland wallpaper in front of him, the uneven curling of the ragged paper from
the humidity and wonders if this is what they have to look forward to for the
rest of their lives.
A small buzzing sound snaps him out of his thoughts.
It's Hyosang. 
Seokjin reaches down and puts his phone back on mute. He's not ready to think
about the lasting repercussions of ditching his degree he's almost done with
much less defend his rationale against Hyosang who has always seen through him
so easily.  
Silently, Seokjin reaches over and runs a hand through Jungkook’s hair. He’s
fast asleep and Seokjin watches his lips part- soft snores slipping through
into the quiet tension around them. An unspeakable protective instinct swells
up within Seokjin’s chest.
He flips over to his side and stares at the other section of wallpaper, no less
bland than the first. Above him the air conditioning squeaks, coming to life- a
small drift of coolness against the cloying heat.
 
                                      ---
 
Hyosang texts him again two weeks after their first midterm and leaves Seokjin
a heavily worded voice mail. It comes about as scolding as Seokjin expected,
but it still doesn’t change his mind.
Just for clarification- Seokjin doesn’t drop out of college for his brother.
Seokjin drops out of college because frankly he doesn’t know what else to do.
The stack of bills tucked into his jacket feel thinner by the day and Seokjin
knows they can't hide out in ragged two star motels for the rest of their
lives. 
They need a new start. 
He texts Hyosang back and waits. It's a bit much what he's asking, but Hyosang
has friends across the area and Seokjin is fraying thin under the stress to not
be a little desperate, but-
“I want to be here,” is what he tells Jungkook and that much of it will always
be true.
“I don’t get it though,” Jungkook says, mumbling through his arm face down on
whatever motel bed they’ve crashed at for the week. Seokjin isn’t exactly
paranoid per say, but it’s no good to stay in one place for too long. Growing
up in their little bumfuck town taught him that if nothing else.
He knows better than to wait for the cautious stares around them to grow
curious and then vindictive.
Hyosang texts him within the next hour. I’ll see what I can do. I know a place
that does pretty convincing fakes. 
Seokjin fingers hovers over the keys. He presses the delete key twice and keeps
the message short.
Thanks, man.
The squeak of the bathroom door opens to Jungkook dripping wet. He smells so
clean and out of place. His hair is slightly spiked from the moisture and the
sensation of the wet tips dragging against Seokjin’s arm sends tingles up his
spine.
“Still hurts,” Jungkook says sheepishly as he leans into Seokjin, showing him
his arm.
“I know baby. C’mere,” he replies softly. He wraps a careful hand around
Jungkook's wrist and presses a band-aid over the cut on his arm, healing slow
and sluggish.
“We’ll figure it out, Jungkook,” Seokjin murmurs, pressing his lips into
Jungkook’s wet hair.
The mattress squeaks under their weight.
Another city, another bed. Another night of Jungkook snoring lightly in ratty
sheets as Seokjin watches the flutter of his lashes rise with the sun.
 
                                      ---
 
Jungkook’s new surname is Jeon. The paperwork dictates as such and Seokjin
watches the small smile sneak its way across Jungkook’s face as he rubs his
thumb across his shiny new driver’s license.
“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook murmurs under his breath. He beams up at Seokjin,
eyes playful.
“Does this mean I still have to call you hyung?” Jungkook’s voice is
suggestive, but also tentative like he’s unsure of how this will change things
between them, or if it will at all.
“I’m always hyung to you, brat,” Seokjin grumbles. He slings an arm over
Jungkook’s shoulder, satisfied when he finds that Jungkook is still, just the
tiniest bit shorter than him.
 
                                      ---
 
The ground beneath them is parched, cracked under the last waves of summer heat
by the time they arrive in the new town no more than a month later.
Seokjin’s nearly out of gas by the time they pull into the empty lot of the
motel, but their car, by some miracle, makes it there. She's been sounding
pretty bad, grease spittle wracking her old bare bones frame. Seokjin knows
that she's an old model, but the fear of losing her, their way of escape- their
way of life, is crippling. 
Seokjin manages to get her parked and prays silently that he'll be able to
scrap enough money together for repairs. 
In the safety of the shade, he leans over to press a kiss against Jungkook’s
cheek. “We’re here.”
Jungkook’s eyes open blearily, unfocused. “Already?”
“It wasn’t that far,” Seokjin lies. He unbuckles his seat belt, all too ready
for the opportunity to stretch out his legs. Jungkook catches his wrist before
he opens the door and reels him in for a groggy kiss.
It’s growing hotter by the second in the car now that the engine is off, but
Seokjin savors every second of it as Jungkook’s lips brush his. His lips are
rough, wrinkled in from the lack of water but Seokjin still drinks him in, hand
cupping the side of Jungkook’s face without thinking. 
Jungkook moans, fingers grabbing onto the material of Seokjin's shirt as
Seokjin holds him steady. 
The kiss here feels different, unhinged and free. The knowledge that Jungkook
is no longer his brother in a legal sense stirs something dark and hungry in
Seokjin, but with it comes the paranoia, the lingering shadow of taboo. Old
habits are hard to buck. 
He pulls back, suddenly remembering where they are. Jungkook lets out a little
whine, but Seokjin holds up a palm to push him back. 
“Ready to go in?” Seokjin asks, keeping his voice light and Jungkook takes an
eternity to pull back. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” Seokjin laughs wryly. “Sorry.”
Jungkook’s lips are dry, dead skin flaking off at the corner as Seokjin brushes
his nail against it. “You’re not sorry,” he huffs and Seokjin watches him pull
back with a small sigh. 
“It’ll just be a week or so,” Seokjin says after him. Jungkook shrugs. His eyes
are indifferent as he pushes the car door open and moves to grab his bags out
of the trunk.
 
                                      ---
                                        
A week or so turns into two.
Two becomes three, and then a month as their car breaks down, leaving them with
no choice but to make a semi-permanent stay in town until the repairs can be
completed.
They find a small townhouse open for a monthly sublease and Seokjin washes cars
at the repair shop for a decent wage. The guys there are friendly enough to
even teach him a couple of tricks about cars and engines that Seokjin files
away for later use. 
Jungkook finds work close by as a waiter at the local diner, waiting tables and
collecting a handsome tip considering the amount of hours he actually worked.
They make do between the two of them like always. 
Jungkook's diner is small, but it gets plenty of traffic in proportion to the
size of the town. Seokjin eats there from time to time, whenever he's got time
for a break from work. The food there isn't that bad, but Seokjin misses
cooking, misses having a functional kitchen. More than that, he misses having
Jungkook help him around the kitchen and the two of them wrinkling their noses
at the Frankenstein-esque creations bubbling out of the oven. 
They're long past those days and Seokjin has to physically stop himself from
helping Jungkook balance trays of food on his shoulders as he makes his way out
of the kitchen. 
"Hey hyung," Jungkook calls. He shakes his bangs out of his face and grins.
Seokjin gives a small wave, unsure where to stand when Jungkook grabs another
boy around his age in a waiter outfit and pushes him towards the table of
customers.  
"Are you allowed to do that?" Seokjin teases and Jungkook gives him a light
push. "I'm on break now. I was due for one twenty minutes ago." He pushes
Seokjin again, a little harder. "You're late."
"Sorry." Seokjin lets Jungkook lead them to a small booth near the back corner.
He pours Seokjin a cup of water and sets it down on the table.  "It was a busy
day over there. 
Jungkook nods, eyes round in worry. "Is your back doing okay?"
"Yeah." Seokjin makes a show of groaning. "I'm not that old okay?" Jungkook
smothers a giggle behind his hand as Seokjin stretches out his legs. 
“He’s cute,” Seokjin teases, watching the waiter Jungkook pulled over earlier
charm the table behind them.
"Who? Taehyung?" Jungkook ducks his head, his cheeks tinged darker although
Seokjin can barely tell in the shitty lighting. 
“He’s annoying,” Jungkook huffs with a distracted air. “He’s such a weirdo, but
he and I work all the same shifts. I can’t get rid of him.”
The corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches up after he says it, a hint of a
different smile. Seokjin’s not sure that he likes it.
It's not his style to interrogate Jungkook in public, and before Seokjin can
even edge another word in, Taehyung himself swings in dramatically. 
"Hello, hello!" he calls out cheerfully. He hands Seokjin a menu and the
playfully swats Jungkook's hair with another. "Are you on break already?"
"Yeah," Jungkook defends eagerly. "And you should be serving actual customers."
"He's a real customer," Taehyung points out, gesturing towards Seokjin. He
clears his throat. "Hello and welcome! My name is Taehyung and I'll be your
waiter this evening. It's nice to meet you!"
“Seokjin,” he replies, a little taken aback. “I’m Jungkook’s...friend.”
“Seokjin, aha finally. Nice to meet you!” Taehyung says with a wink.
“Jungkook’s told me so much about you.”
“Is that so?” Seokjin mutters through a smile. Jungkook shrugs as Taehyung
continues flapping the menu in front of them like a fan.
“Please let me know when you're ready to order. I’m Taehyung by the way,” he
says, before pausing with a slight frown- "I think I might have already said
that."
Seokjin blinks as Jungkook chuckles. Taehyung, completely unperturbed,
continues chattering. "Jungkook’s a good co-waiter, but he’d be even better at
gathering tips if he stopped frowning so much. You should be nicer to him.”
“Me?” Seokjin points. Taehyung waggles his eyebrows knowingly. “You gotta keep
him nice and happy at home, you know.”
“I see,” Seokjin says, slightly concerned. He watches Taehyung make his way
over to another table as Jungkook rolls his eyes fondly. "Told you, he's
weird."
Seokjin nods, but there's something else bothering him. He takes a small sip of
water, watching Jungkook play absentmindedly with his straw wrapper. "Does he
think I'm abusing you back at home or something?"
“Nah, I told him you were my boyfriend,” Jungkook answers casually. Seokjin
chokes on his drink.
“Jungkook!” Seokjin stammers, half-wheezing through his drink. Jungkook blinks
back at him innocently.
“Would you prefer that I tell people that we’re still brothers?” Jungkook
counters flatly. “We would get so many more stares when do things like-
Seokjin’s paralyzed, frozen to the spot as Jungkook flutters his lashes and
presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Oh.”
Seokjin’s heart is hammering, but no one pays them any attention. Jungkook
grins, oddly satisfied. He leans forward, tilting his chin and kisses Seokjin
full on the lips. Seokjin’s pulse skyrockets, a tremor between reflexes honed
from all their formative years. 4 months of freedom isn't nearly enough to
erase a half decade of hushed secrets and crippling self-realizations. 
“Jungkook,” he hisses, twisting away. The hurt in Jungkook’s eyes flicker for a
second before it’s replaced with something steely, removed.
“Would you prefer to explain it instead?” he mutters back. He hops off the
chair with a small hop, tying his black apron back on. 
Seokjin opens his mouth, but no words come out. 
“I have to get back to work. Sorry,” Jungkook says curtly, ducking his head
under the flaps into the kitchen to retrieve more menus.
Seokjins sits silently, something more shameful than sin constricting his
chest. 
Jungkook returns to his tables, taking orders with a smile plastered on too
tight to be genuine, while Seokjin’s fingers tingle with second-hand warmth and
a freedom that poisons his imagination.
 
                                      ---
 
They're walking down the route back home, when Seokjin takes Jungkook’s hand
into his. There’s no one on the street, but it feels bold, daring the way
Jungkook’s eyes flash in wonder as he laces his fingers with Seokjin’s.
He swings their hand back and forth, childishly and Seokjin strokes the back of
his palm, contemplative.  At this hour, the streets are empty. There's nothing
but the soft autumn breeze to accompany them back home, but what if someone
were to see them now- half hidden in the dark?
Would they see a pair of lovers holding hands at night because they didn’t dare
to anywhere else? Or perhaps- would they still see an older brother and a
younger brother?
Or, Seokjin swallows thickly- a father and his son. The thought sinks to the
pit of his stomach like a weight at the end of a lure, dragging his mood down
in one swift yank. Jungkook continues humming some tune under his breath that
Seokjin can’t identify.
He runs a hand through his hair feeling not for the first time this strange
generational gap wedge its way between him and Jungkook. 5 years is a lot. A
lot can happen in half a decade and if Seokjin is feeling it this badly
already, how would it feel to see Jungkook still 17 when Seokjin turns 25, or
when he pushes into his 30s and then his 40s?
Jungkook reads the stiffness in his arm as readily as ever.
He pauses in his step, turning around to face Seokjin. The crunch of leaves
beneath his feet is questioning.  "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Seokjin replies. "I'm just thinking."
"About?" Jungkook continues. 
"About how young you look," Seokjin teases. Jungkook rolls his eyes good-
naturedly. "But not in a creepy way, I mean."
Jungkook's laughter is real. "I don't know if there's any way for you to phrase
that in a 'not creepy way', I mean-"
"Yeah." Seokjin watches Jungkook shake his head. "I don't get why you're so
hung up on this. I thought we were working past it." He waves an arm into the
air. "Past all of this."
"We are," Seokjin replies steadily. "I'm trying. It's just a big change for all
of us."
"Hey hyung?" Jungkook clasps his hand around Seokjin's wrist, reeling him in
close. Under the orange glow of the lamp, Jungkook is beautiful. He hasn't aged
a day since Seokjin dug them both out of their hometown something close to half
a year ago. He's still the same, bunny lipped, wide-eyed brat Seokjin knows and
loves so, so much. 
His breath catches in his chest, hopeless and constricted to the edge of his
ribs where Jungkook rests the edge of his cheek against. From this distance,
Seokjin wonders if Jungkook can hear the frantic hammering, the endless anxiety
and want humming in his veins. It hits him for a second that with every second
ticking past, the gap between them grows. Seokjin could be old already, his
joints creaking with weariness, and nothing would shake the way Jungkook stood
on this earth, youthful and possibly immortal. Seokjin is a fruit fly in the
face of Jungkook's existence, nothing but a small pebble in the sprawling flow
of time that drags him alongside the tide of mortals no matter how hard he
tries to cling to Jungkook. 
“Would you still love me if I was old and wrinkly?” Jungkook poses, eyes wide.
Seokjin stares back at the edge of his shirt.
“Yes,” he says, and Jungkook takes his other hand and places it onto Seokjin's
shoulder.
“Then it’s fine,” Jungkook says simply. His logic is so pure, so childlike that
it makes Seokjin sick to his stomach. “I still love you and you’re already
starting to prune up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” Jungkook laughs. The small puff of breath hits his cheek and Seokjin
wraps his arms around Jungkook. The wind around them is cold and Jungkook
shivers. Even after all this time he still slots in perfectly, tucked beneath
Seokjin’s chin right where he belongs.
 
                                      ---
                                        
November bleeds past them in a flurry of half-paid bills and slow creeping
winter chills.
Jungkook’s doing well for himself. He's even made a couple of friends aside
from Taehyung and Seokjin learns more about cars than he could have humanly
thought possible. 
They've been in the town for months now, and Seokjin can't fight the familiar
fear, casting shadows on their daily lives. No one knows about Jungkook and his
particular ailment yet, but the questions have already started coming: Where
did they go to school? Where did they come from? How did they meet? Why isn't
Jungkook still in school? 
Seokjin answers them as patiently, as calmly, as he can, but even then he's not
keen on waiting for the moment the town's innocent curiosity withers into doubt
and then condemnation. 
It's not a question of if they'll move, it's when. 
It shouldn't bother him that much. Seokjin wants to like Jungkook's friends,
really. But it's hard not to be on alert when the fact is- no one asks them
more questions than Taehyung. 
Of course, the questions Taehyung asks are all over the place: Why is the sky
so blue after it rains?  What color would two chameleons change into when
placed next to each other?  - and then naturally the ones that make
Seokjin's breaths halt. "Wait, just exactly how old are you?"
Jungkook thankfully takes it in stride. "Old enough. Why?"
"Just curious," Taehyung answers and for a second he looks over at Seokjin.
"How long have you two been together?"
"Long enough," Jungkook answers casually. "Why are you so nosy?" 
"I just want to know about your life Jungkookie," Taehyung whines. "Why do you
have to make everything sound so mysterious? It just makes me so curious."
"Stay curious then," Jungkook shoots back. 
“I feel like you're hiding something.” Taehyung lets out a small whine and then
his eyes grow wide. Seokjin swallows hard as Taehyung's mouth drops open in
what Seokjin hopes is fake realization. "Oh god, how many people have you two
murdered?"
"None," Jungkook answers with a shrug, looking mischievous. "Okay maybe one.
Actually-" He shoots a knowing look over to Seokjin. "Can we can start
tonight?" He jerks a thumb over to Taehyung's scandalized expression. 
"Not funny." Taehyung smacks him on the arm. "Don't joke about stuff like
that!"
"You brought it up first," Jungkook huffs, biting back a smile. 
Taehyung takes a long, even look at him- long enough for Jungkook to turn away
with a quiet flush. “It doesn't matter how old you are Jeon Jungkook. You will
forever be a fresh, sprightly flower in my eyes.”
“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook says hollowly. The flush on his cheeks makes Seokjin
uneasy even as Jungkook threads their fingers together under the table.
 
                                      ---
                                        
Jungkook falls sick the first week of December just short of Seokjin's
birthday.
It's bad, just like before. Vomiting, blood, fevers- the entire package. 
Taehyung proves himself a reliable friend by checking in on Jungkook when
Seokjin is away at work. He brings him soup from the diner's kitchen- not that
Seokjin wouldn't trust Taehyung to cook and okay yeah- he doesn't trust
Taehyung to cook, let alone heat up old soup on their stove. Which is precisely
why Seokjin's with him in his kitchen, fiddling with the old gas stove.  
Jungkook coughs weakly in the background, the sound of phlegm thick in his
lungs.  
"I know a doctor," Taehyung adds helpfully and Seokjin jerks back so quickly he
hits his head on the edge of the cabinet above his head. 
"He'll be fine," Seokjin says hurriedly, eyes watering in pain. "Don't worry. I
know how to take care of him."
To his credit, Seokjin doesn't flinch when Taehyung cocks his head to the side.
"Okay." He reaches a hand up to pat Seokjin's head where the cabinet had hit
less than a second okay. "I trust you."
It's misplaced trust for sure, Seokjin thinks as Taehyung gives Jungkook a hug
before heading out. He doesn't have the heart to tell Taehyung later when
they're stuck fiddling with the stove again later in the week that Jungkook
vomited it all back up less than an hour after he left, or that when Seokjin
peered down into the trashcan, there was blood. 
 
                                      ---
 
Just as mysteriously as Jungkook had fallen ill, his condition improves.
The blood layered in his vomit thins out, until there's nothing but a few
chilling dark specks, flecked among the scraps of Seokjin's cooking. The fever
takes longer to fix, but Seokjin feeds Jungkook pear soup for days on end until
the cough subsides and Jungkook threatens to vomit out of spite when  Seokjin
tries to feed him anything with pears in it the next week. 
Taehyung raises the question about a doctor enough times for Seokjin to feel
the habitual urge to flee. "If it's about money, I think everyone at the diner
would be willing to pitch in and help." 
Seokjin simply nods and wishes that they had met Taehyung in another time,
another life where they could be honest to him and not have to take his concern
and friendship so callously. "It's not the money."
"Then what?" Taehyung questions. His gaze is never suspicious, but he's
beginning to see more than what Seokjin's comfortable of showing. "What is it?"
Seokjin just shakes his head. 
It's time. They've overstayed their welcome, like always. 
“Are the police after us or…?” Jungkook asks aloud when he returns home. His
tone is teasing, muffled beneath layers of mucus, but just the suggestion of it
sends chills down Seokjin’s spine.
“No.” Seokjin pulls the drawer open, pouring its contents out on the bed. “No
police.”
Jungkook lets out a loud sniffle. There's a protest somewhere nestled in the
back of his throat, but Seokjin watches him help gather the clothes and fold
them into neat stacks. 
“How do you feel about living closer to the ocean?” Seokjin suggests and
Jungkook’s eyes are hopeful, shiny from the fever. “How close are we talking?”
 
                                      ---
 
Another road. Another day spent with their legs cramped up against the rattling
frame of their car. 
Maybe this is what they want. This kind of life of being constantly on the run.
Seokjin tucks a blanket over Jungkook in the seat beside him and smooths a hand
over his fevered skin. Jungkook leans into his touch like Seokjin’s the only
cure he'll ever know. 
By morning they’ll be in a new city surrounded by new faces and Seokjin will
fix a smile on his face and introduce himself again: Kim Seokjin, age 22-
college dropout, but hard-working, and looking for any form of employment
possible.  
Would he have the courage this time around to introduce Jungkook as anything
besides his younger brother?
Seokjin doesn’t know, doesn’t want to find out. He pushes down on the gas,
feeling the new engine rumble beneath his feet. The glass is foggy, cold and
distant as Jungkook lets out a feverish moan, feeble. Seokjin wants to brush
his hair back, put a wet towel against his flushed cheeks, because even at this
distance he can feel the uncomfortable, sickly heat clinging to Jungkook’s
skin.
"Hang in there," he breathes. Jungkook nods, shivering and so so small. 
They’ll do this for as long as they can keep it up. There’s no other way.
He's going to take Jungkook away, as far away as possible, until they run up
against the edge of the world.
***** born to run *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
The sound of the ocean greets their ears long before the morning light does.
Seokjin turns the car engine off as quietly as he can and watches the daylight
stream in through the windows. In the passenger seat Jungkook's still fast
asleep, snoozing quietly through the sound of waves softly tickling the
shoreline. The tide is high with the moon still up on the order side of the sky
fading fast into the dusty blue of the sky.
Seokjin opens the car door and stretches out his legs. At this hour, there's
barely any people. Just a few morning joggers and a dozen or so seagulls
scattered alongside the parking space, their beady eyes curiously drawn towards
the possibility of food.
The soft curling noises of the waves are soothing, nearly enough to lure
Seokjin to sleep as well. It’s been a long drive and an even longer three days
of rushed pit stops and cramped limbs. They’re here at last.
"Jungkook," Seokjin whispers, though he doesn't quite know why. He places his
hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and gives him a small push. "We're here."
Jungkook stirs sluggishly and Seokjin fights the urge to press a kiss to his
fever-warmed cheek.  
"Where are we?" Jungkook murmurs. He blinks and then looks across the horizon.
Seokjin holds his breath and waits. The empty sounds of the sea shore echo
around them and Jungkook lifts his gaze out against the water.
There's no excitement in his eyes. Seokjin hadn’t been expecting there to be
much given their circumstance, but it burns at his throat to see Jungkook stare
so mutely out at sea, still lost in his fever.
“Where are we?” he repeats and the sound of his voice feels so sad, too final
for Seokjin to stomach.
"Somewhere new," Seokjin says. He doesn't have the courage to call it home this
time around.
 
                                      ---
 
They spend three years lost at sea.
It feels like clockwork, a complete rewind and replay of their stay at the
previous town. Seokjin finds basic work at a restaurant and Jungkook at a small
corner convenience store. The hours are fair and the work boring. Seokjin
spends his days washing dishes and his nights watching the rise and fall of
Jungkook’s chest from his side of the bed.
They’re back to square one in a small isolated town no bigger than the one they
grew up in. The only difference is that the sea they’re surrounded by isn’t one
of dying wheat and gold, but an actual body of water that they can actually
drown in this time around.
There’s really no difference though. The water is in reality just as much of a
desert and ultimately, just as lonely.
They stay a few months, too wary to form friendships and forever scared of
attracting attention. The towns they move into are always small and the people
friendly, but somehow that only makes it worse when they inevitably have to
move out. Each town comes with a ticking timer, a question of how long they can
stay their welcome before the scrutiny begins.
Jungkook spends most of his days by the shore, walking alongside the beach when
it’s too cold to go swim. He paces along the edge of the wave, walking back and
forth until the tide rises to erase his footprints and then repeats.
Seokjin joins him sometimes. He chases the edge of the wave, lets the cold sink
into his already wet sneakers and waits for Jungkook to join him to slide an
arm around his waist. They chat idly, about the weather, about the seashells
they find on the shore and the way the sun sinks into the sea. Time passes fast
and horribly slow all at once, because Seokjin looks over at Jungkook and
thinks they could have never left their little home high up in the leaves and
branches at all. He thinks that this whole year could have been a dream, a
feverish nightmare and wonders if Jungkook thinks the same.
Jungkook looks the same as he always has. He maybe smiles a little less and his
skin has gotten worse from the constant stress and moving around. He’s still
young and looks unbearably so.
They don’t touch in public anymore, at least when Seokjin can help it. When no
one is looking he runs his hands through Jungkook’s hair, growing longer by the
day, and thinks of cradling him close to his chest. Jungkook is tired all the
time now and Seokjin wonders how much of him he’s lost to each passing town.
In their time around the sea, they pass a lot of towns. Over the span of a
year, maybe two, Seokjin remembers less of their names and the people they
meet, and more of how many times he holds Jungkook and tells him that this will
be their last and that they won’t leave this town unless they really have to.
Seokjin’s a liar, but that’s no surprise.
The second town is the same as the first, as is the third.
The sixth time they move, Jungkook dumps his bags in the trunk and slam the car
door shut. Seokjin follows in suit and wonders how many more they can last.
 
                                      ---
 
Come September again, Seokjin lights Jungkook’s 20th birthday cake with only 17
candles. Partly because it’s funny to watch Jungkook’s expression fall from
delight to scrutiny as he adds up the missing candles on his fingers, but also
partly because it’s a reminder to them both that Seokjin won’t be any closer in
age to Jungkook, ever.
“What’s the point?” Jungkook says with a defeated sigh. “Why celebrate this
one, when I still can’t even drink.”
“Because it’s still your birthday and birthdays are important,” Seokjin
reasons, lighting another three candles off on the side to placate Jungkook.
The scowl on Jungkook’s face doesn’t waver.
“Who cares though,” Jungkook groans. “The law’s gonna restrict me. I’m stuck as
a 17 year old forever.”
“Biologically,” Seokjin corrects. He waits for Jungkook to slump openly on the
couch, limbs full of defeat before pulling out a bottle of soju out from behind
the counter. Jungkook perks up immediately, a devilish smile on his face.
“Whatever happened to strict older brother Seokjin,” Jungkook teases and
Seokjin stiffens before masking it with a quick smile.
“He went to college and came back a changed man,” Seokjin says solemnly pouring
Jungkook a shot. “Now let’s see if you’ve got the family genes.”
Jungkook’s a lightweight. Seokjin can tell as much as soon as the alcohol tips
past his half swollen lips and down his throat where Jungkook makes a gagging
noise. His scrunch up, but he doesn’t spit the alcohol back up. Seokjin watches
his throat convulse before closing up to swallow.
“Ugh,” Jungkook croaks, laughter bubbling in his throat. “That was disgusting.”
“Good boy,” Seokjin hands him another shot. “Keep going.”
Jungkook shoots him a look, but takes the glass obediently.  
“Feels like fire,” Jungkook mumbles, watching Seokjin knock his own shot back.
“The good kind?” he asks and Seokjin watches Jungkook waggle his brows at him,
the way he does that ends up making him looks absolutely stupid.
“Say hyung,” Jungkook suggests. His syllables are already a little slurred, but
Seokjin is terrible at saying no in general, even more so to Jungkook and his
wide open smile. “Let’s go shot for shot.”
 
                                      ---
 
“Happy 17th Birthday, Jungkook!” Seokjin slurs for the 3rd time that night and
it’s funny only enough to make himself giggle for a bit.
“Very funny,” Jungkook groans from the floor. His voice wavers a little like it
wants to crack but can’t even muster the energy to. Seokjin peers down at him
from the couch, takes in Jungkook’s face mashed against the carpet, flushed
with alcohol and vibrant youth and turns away.
In the dimness of the room, it’s still impossible to ignore how beautiful
Jungkook looks. The way his dark lashes fan out alongside the growing shadows
of the room against the white of his cheek has Seokjin hooked even when sober.
Jungkook’s wearing a flimsy t-shirt- something befitting of the weather of
early September- and his jeans are slung low and baggy on his hips. Seokjin’s
mouth goes dry, tracing the line of his pant legs and for a second he can
nearly feel the warmth of Jungkook’s skin, the smoothness of his thighs
spreading under Seokjin’s palms. It’s too real and altogether too frightening
even with Seokjin’s blood lit with the sensation of liquid abandon. Jungkook’s
always been within reach, just an arm’s length away this whole time and all
Seokjin has to do is pick him up from the floor and carry him onto the bed.
Instead, Seokjin watches the wax from the candle drip until it smothers itself
on the untouched cake.
Hours later when he pulls a sleeping Jungkook up to sit on the couch, Seokjin
notices the wrinkles on the back of his own hand. After a moment he supposes,
it’s not all that strange. He’s turning 25 this year, hands weathered from
working dead-end jobs at dead-end hours in dead-end towns and Jungkook-
Jungkook is still 17.
  
                                      ---
 
They move for a seventh time to a small town away from the coast for a change.
It’s a four hour drive inland and there’s nothing but lush forests for miles
around and the occasional rotting fence. He keeps his eyes peeled for stray
wildlife on the road, deer crossing signs and whatever else might find itself
splattered on the miles of asphalt between them and the next town.
The view isn’t much either in comparison to the sea. There’s more trees than
people out here and that honestly suits Seokjin just fine. The land is flat and
utterly boring and Seokjin half expects tumbleweed to be greeting at the front
yard when they arrive at the town front.
“Are you sure we haven’t already been here before?” Jungkook asks, stretching
his legs for the first time in hours. He aims his gaze to the sky, squinting.
“It feels kind of familiar I guess,” Seokjin replies. He pops open the trunk to
unload their bags, smiling when Jungkook makes a small huffing noise. “Come
over and help me.”
Jungkook makes another resigned sound, more of a whine than a proper sigh, but
he moves over to the back of the car to grab his backpack without any real
complaints. Their moves are more habit than routine by now. They have nothing
but new beginnings under their belt and nothing built on top of that. With all
the time they spent on the coast, Seokjin’s been the one pushing the ocean
waves over anything and everything before they can even settle down to build.
There’s always the idea that it will be different this time, and under the
canopy of familiar leaves, Seokjin has trouble beating down that small flicker
of hope licking at the edge of his ribs. Maybe it’s this time, maybe the next.
They’re going to find home again soon.
 
                                      ---
 
On the flip side, part of Seokjin wonders sometimes if this is his fault. That
on the day he promised Jungkook to wait until his 18th birthday, he triggered
something on a cosmic level.
But Seokjin isn’t special. He isn’t some supernatural being able to cast spells
of immortality, nor is he even special enough to be damned by some act of God
condemning him and his relationship with Jungkook. There’s no explanation in
theology or science on why Jungkook of all people has been cursed.
In the grand scheme of things, Seokjin is no one.
He knows this deep down, but when Jungkook wakes up beside him blinking sleep
out of his puffy eyes, still tenderly young in the morning rays beneath their
shared comforter- Seokjin feels damned.
“Breakfast?” Jungkook murmurs sleepily and Seokjin slips out of bed after
pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead.
 
                                      ---
                                        
Seokjin has dreams about it sometimes.
He dreams about licking the flat of Jungkook’s teeth and the roof of his mouth.
His hands mapping the sharpness of Jungkook’s hipbones, tracing their way up
his stomach to cradle his chest. He dreams about the way Jungkook settles into
his lap, back solid and warm against Seokjin’s broad chest. The way Jungkook
would tilt his chin back, arch his spine- all flexible and lithe- to pull
Seokjin into a kiss. How easy it would be to feel his pulse against the skin of
his wrist, butterfly-thin.
He dreams of holding Jungkook the way a gardener cradles a bouquet of buds,
soft and nurturing, in hopes of watching them bloom before his eyes- and at the
same time burdened with the guilt of snipping the stalks too early.  Seokjin
know he’s not to blame, that he’s not the one who snipped Jungkook from the
dirt too early.
Either way he’s the one who’s left waiting, eager for the day Jungkook grows
thorns instead to snare Seokjin in place so Seokjin can finally say that he’s
the one that’s stuck against his will. That he has no choice, but to stay and
be with Jungkook until his bones rot into the ground into fertilizer.
“Let me,” Jungkook says, pliant and soft. In the dream, he pulls Seokjin’s hand
across the bed to wrap a hand around his dick, hard and leaking pre-come at the
tip. Jungkook’s skin is so warm, practically burning Seokjin from the inside-
out.
“Touch me, please,” Jungkook moans. Seokjin’s fingers will somehow find their
way down, tracing against the sharpness of his hipbone before jerking back.
Even in his dreams, Seokjin feels wrong.
But Jungkook’s lashes are wet, his eyes dark and hazy. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Seokjin mutters and leans in to answer his siren call.  
He wakes up, soaked in sweat and the fever of guilt that Seokjin knows he
shouldn’t feel anymore. Across the room, Jungkook is snoring softly.
The light peeking behind the curtains taunts him relentlessly. Seokjin pulls a
pillow over his head and waits for the sun to fully rise, haunted.
 
                                      ---
 
There’s exactly one bar in the entire town and on the weekend it attracts a
good deal of businessmen for such an unsuspecting establishment. They’re here
for business, lumber or something mundane and befitting of the surrounding
environment. Seokjin doesn't know, doesn't care to ask. If anything, he does
his best to avoid that sort. 
Seokjin tries his best to avoid any and all late week shifts. It’s just not a
good place to be especially when it gets later into the night. There’s always
someone throwing up, some poor guy or another drinking away his life and
sorrows by the bottle. The alcohol here is shitty and Seokjin should know
better, but that’s the problem that’s been there all along. He should know
better about a lot of things.
His shift for the day has just started when a guy lumbers over to the bar and
sits down right in front of Seokjin. At this point, Seokjin’s no stranger to
weird advances.
“Can I get you anything?” Seokjin keeps a stoic expression as the guy makes a
show of looking down Seokjin’s front.
“Not really,” he replies with a grin.  From the smell of it, he’s already had
quite a bit to drink. “How come you’re not drinking?”
“I’m at work,” Seokjin says politely. He gets this question at least once a
week to Jungkook’s frustration. "It would be bad for business.”
“Well, it’s also bad for business when your customers don’t have people to
drink with.”
Seokjin takes a look at his watch. It’s barely 4PM. He raises his head to take
another look at the man before him and feels a little more sympathy than he did
before. Seokjin wipes his hands with the towel and leans over the bar in what’s
hopefully an imposing manner. “I don’t run this place, I just serve drinks.”
“Who serves you drinks?” the guy asks back. He’s cheeky and this kind of nosy
enthusiasm reminds Seokjin of Jungkook for a split second.
“I don’t get drinks,” Seokjin says. “I’m at work remember?”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asks without hesitation. “Be my drinking buddy.”
Seokjin’s a bartender assistant and a part-time waiter, not a therapist. He
clears his throat, ready to rebuke the offer when Mr. Clingy leans forward
again.  
“My boyfriend broke up with me,” he says plainly and then instantly crosses his
arms. “Sorry. Forgot I was stuck here. You small town folk probably-”
“Don’t make assumptions,” Seokjin says evenly. He raises a glass and places in
front of them.  “I’m sorry for your breakup.”
“Thanks and I wasn’t hitting on you,” the guy clarifies. He blinks sheepishly
and then looks away, hiding behind his bangs. “I guess most guys you meet
around here are more interested in picking up local chicks, I didn’t want to
startled you.”
“Again, don’t make assumptions,” Seokjin notes.
The guy beams back at him, the tension bleeding out for his shoulders. He picks
up the glass and lets Seokjin pour him a shot before tipping it down his
throat. “You’re not from around here are you? Seems like a strange thing to do,
move here I mean, of all places.”
“It wasn’t really a choice,” Seokjin laughs. “I just ended up here I guess.”
“You guess?” He tips another shot back and stares at Seokjin dead in the eye.
“Let me guess- sick parent?”
“Nope.”
“Shit, you got kids?” he takes a contemplative sip off the top of his glass.
“You look too young to have kids.” His voice takes on a bitter tone. “Was it a
long distance lover? Those never work out.”
“Wrong again,” Seokjin smiles. He makes a move to head behind the counter when
the guy pulls at his sleeve, a goofy smile on his face.
“When does your shift end?” he asks and Seokjin should pull back, tell him to
have a good night and take care of his liver, but instead he finds himself
smiling back.
“Stick around and you’ll find out.”
 
                                      ---
 
Seokjin’s not drunk at all when he slings an arm over the stranger in the
middle of the bar hours later. The man is a good dancer, maybe as good as
Jungkook, grinding all seductively down against Seokjin.
“Hello there,” Seokjin half giggles.
His hair a few shades off, but in the dim light the angle of his nose could
pass for Jungkook’s. He’s around Seokjin’s age, maybe just a little younger. He
might have been around Jungkook’s real age and that’s the thought that catches
itself in Seokjin’s throat and pools itself into desire down into his gut.
Suddenly everything is too hot, the air too tight for Seokjin to breathe.
He pushes away, mind reeling, but the guy has a steady grip on his wrist for
how drunk he is.
“I stayed around for you,” he says, blinking unsteadily. “You guys sure do work
long shifts.”
“It pays the bills,” Seokjin answers and lets the guy press a drink into his
hand. “Is this on the house?”
“It’s on me,” the guy offers and pulls an arm around Seokjin’s waist. He pulls
him close and lets the rocking rhythm of the music sway ride both their hips.
Seokjin’s a terrible dancer, but the alcohol helps- it always does. He tips the
drink back down his throat and revels in the burn of it, coughings lightly.
Whatever was in there was strong.
He sets the glass down, cheeks feeling warmer already.
“Got anymore?” he asks and the look of surprise is blatant in the other man’s
eyes.
“Thought you would never ask,” he smiles and presses another drink into
Seokjin’s open palm. “That was impressive,” he says gesturing to the empty
glass .
“I work in a bar,” Seokjin answers before tipping the second drink back. It
goes down smoother than the first, easy and warm.
“Come with me,” the guy murmurs, voice too low to pass as Jungkook’s and the
illusion breaks.
It’s just as well, because it leaves no reservations for Seokjin to pull at
when the stranger presses his lips to Seokjin’s neck and leads him by the wrist
back to the center of the dance floor. The bar is packed with sweaty bodies now
and every bit of it reminds Seokjin of college. Everything feels mindless and
for someone who has thought, worried, panicked as much as Seokjin has in the
past few years, it’s exhilarating to just let go.
In the flashing light, Seokjin squints a little and it’s Jungkook in his arms
again, swaying slightly and flushed from alcohol. His bright smile burns
Seokjin, igniting a part of Seokjin that’s been so carefully tucked away and
buried for all these years.
He grabs the stranger by the neck and smashes their lips together. The illusion
breaks again when the man grins against his mouth and Seokjin jolts out of his
dreams of twisted sheets, dim lights, and the sound of Jungkook’s moans ringing
in his ears. He feels sick, disgusted with himself for even thinking that-
“Come home with me,” the stranger murmurs again and Seokjin pushes him back,
away.
“Sorry I can’t,” he says. The world is spinning, the ground is the wall and
Seokjin is slipping. He stumbles over to the edge
“But you were thinking about it,” the guy teases. He hooks an arm around
Seokjin’s shoulders and pulls him in tight again. Seokjin pushes him off,
stumbling alongside the wall. He shoots an apologetic smile over his shoulder
even as his insides continue to churn, threatening to spill out.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he calls after him, but Seokjin is
already out the door as he should have been hours ago. His legs feel stiff as
he stands in the cold of the street. The nightly wind bites at his cheeks,
prickling at the sweat on his hairline and Seokjin’s head won’t stop spinning.
 
 
                                      ---
                                        
 
Their apartment is dark inside when Seokjin stumbles back, shivering and
reeking of vomit.
He pauses outside the door, his hand hovering over the knob. The warmth from
the alcohol is all gone and with it, the reckless courage and wild abandon. He
sucks in a short breath, anything to fight the coiling anxiety from worming its
way up his ribs. He’s not fooled by the lack of lights inside. He’s not a fool
either to think Jungkook won’t notice anything at all.
The door is unlocked and Seokjin steps in softly, even though he knows Jungkook
is far from asleep. He takes off his shoes and walks in, bare feet padding
against the tiles.
“Have a good time?” Jungkook calls from the couch. He’s been sitting in the
dark, still dressed from work and his eyes weary.
“Not really,” Seokjin lies and he knows how badly he must reek. Jungkook flips
on the lights and it’s so bright for a second that it burns. The light is
blinding and the pounding in his head only seems to grow as Seokjin ambles his
way behind the sink.
“Not really?” Jungkook echoes incredulously. His eyes burn holes on the back of
Seokjin’s shirt as they search all over before finally landing on the mottled
colors on his neck. “Where were you?”
“I was at work,” Seokjin mumbles, cradling his head in his hands. “Doing work.”
“Your shift ended hours ago. Does your work involve other people now?” Jungkook
says angrily and Seokjin turns his gaze down to the sink. The glass in his hand
feels heavy as he places it under the faucet head and pours himself a glass.
"It doesn't," Seokjin answers.
Jungkook sits still for a second before getting to his feet. He pulls open a
drawer and stands there. "Then why did you do it."
"I didn't do anything," Seokjin defends. The headache is getting worse, making
it hard to stand upright let alone look at Jungkook. In fact, Seokjin doesn't
even have to look at Jungkook to see the skepticism and derision in his gaze.
He hears Jungkook scoff and the amount of mistrust and hurt in his voice is
enough to choke Seokjin. "You liar."
Seokjin tips the water in his hand onto the floor. The tiles are cold against
his feet and the water only makes it worse. "I'm not."
Jungkook hands him another glass of water all the same, but it feels like he's
using it to ward Seokjin away rather than a peace offering. "I know you're
lying to me. Seokjin just tell me the truth." His tone turns acidic. "I'm old
enough to handle it."
“I didn’t sleep with him," he says and Jungkook twists away. He makes a motion
to leave the kitchen, but Seokjin grabs onto Jungkook and pulls him in for a
hug. He slumps down, melting against Jungkook's hold until his head falls
uselessly against Jungkook's shoulder. "I didn't do anything, I couldn't."
Jungkook flinches, but he doesn't pull away. "Why?"
“I couldn't because I didn't want to. I don’t want anyone but you,” Seokjin
murmurs and the truth of it is horrifying. It rings into the silence of the
kitchen and all around them and Seokjin thinks for a second that Jungkook will
understand, that Jungkook will forgive him but-
“And I’ve been here,” Jungkook spits back out. “I’ve been here this whole time
following you from shitty town to shitty town. Did you forget?”
“I never,” Seokjin blurts out. “I would never.”
Jungkook walks him slowly over to the couch and brings them both to a sitting
position. Seokjin slumps down immediately, too tired to exist, but in that
moment Jungkook slips out of his grasp.
“I’m going out,” Jungkook announces abruptly and Seokjin can barely make out
his silhouette against the dark of the corridor.
“Where are you going?” Seokjin calls. He struggles to push himself upright with
his elbows and ends up slumping back over.
“Jungkook stop,” Seokjin says. "I want to talk. Please."
“Sober up first,” Jungkook says coldly. He takes a fleece throw and drapes it
over Seokjin's lap before taking his keys off the counter.
The cold from outside blows into the room when Jungkook opens the door and
walks out without another glance back. Seokjin gathers the blankets in his arms
and stands up to follow him, to make sure he'll be okay, when the world tips
back over to black.
 
                                      ---
 
In the morning, Jungkook isn't there.
Seokjin is thoroughly hungover and his head hurts so badly that he wishes he
were still sleeping, but the idea that Jungkook could be anywhere, in trouble
or hurt, haunts him out of his dreams.
He rises to his feet and stumbles headfirst into the ground. 
"Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck."
Seokjin sucks in a breath and gets up to his knees. His head is pounding,
furiously as if in anger at his own weakness, but this is no time for self-
pity. He grabs his jacket off the chair and runs out the door.
The car is gone. 
The spot in the parking lot is barren and it puts a fear, deep and completely
primal, in Seokjin. The car is their only means of escape, the only way they've
made it across the country and far away from anything that's ever hurt
them. It's only fitting that Jungkook has taken it away, used it to finally
escape from Seokjin.
Seokjin can't give up, not like this. He runs as fast as he can down the street
and back around the entire block, but there's nothing there. Jungkook could be
anywhere, he could be dead on the side of the ditch or back at sea given how
long Seokjin's been out.
At this point he's made a loop around the entire block, two steps away from
being back home but no closer to finding Jungkook. His legs burn from the
running and Seokjin stops to catch his breath.
Seokjin is paralyzed, consumed by fear that this is it- that he's lost Jungkook
forever- that the only way he will ever find Jungkook again is if the
authorities find him and news reports of an immortal boy start springing up on
the evening news. Deep down, Seokjin knows that won't happen. Jungkook is too
smart, too paranoid from learning from Seokjin for so long, to ever get caught
like that. If he lives quietly as he should, Seokjin will likely never find him
again, but that way at least Jungkook could live out the rest of his life,
happy even without Seokjin,
He knows this and yet, Seokjin can't help but be selfish. Too selfish to let
Jungkook free, but too selfish to have him for himself either. He should have
never fallen asleep, never let Jungkook out of his sight.
He can't call the police, not like this. Jeon Jungkook doesn't exist on the
official records and even if they were to find Jungkook, it would invite even
more trouble for them. It had been hard enough for Seokjin to pull the
disappearing act off once and he's not sure he has it in him to do it again. 
There's nothing he can do by himself. It's not worth the risk to Jungkook,
Seokjin thinks, but in the panic of the moment he fumbles for his phone,
pulling it out of his pocket. If there's an off chance Jungkook is hurt and
needs medical help, Seokjin knows it's the only way to be sure.
His fingers hover over the keys, pressing in 9-1-
"Don't call the police," a voice sounds from above him.
Seokjin whirls around and Jungkook is there, above him in the branches like a
trick of light. This late in the year, the branches are practically bare and
Seokjin feels utterly stupid for not seeing him earlier.
"What the fuck?" Seokjin swears and Jungkook swings his feet idly, dismounting
from the branch to land on his feet below. He's here and very real as he knocks
Seokjin's phone out of his hand and onto the grass below.
"I said, don't call the police," Jungkook repeats. He bends down to pick up the
phone and hands it back to Seokjin nonchalantly. Jungkook's fingers are ice
cold. He's been outside this whole time tucked up in the tree branches in the
freezing weather.
"Where did you go?" Seokjin asks. His voice feels choked off, overwhelmed with
relief.
"I didn't go anywhere," Jungkook answers simply. He turns on his heel and walks
back towards the direction they came from, back towards home. "I couldn't."
Seokjin runs after him and without thinking he wraps his arms around Jungkook's
body. He feels Jungkook stiffen, the short exhale that exits his body.
"Don't go," Seokjin says. He pulls Jungkook into the space between his own body
until there's none left between them. After this entire time, Jungkook is still
so small and he fits ever so readily into Seokjin's embrace- a snug fit between
Seokjin's arms. "Please don't go."
"I'm not," Jungkook says quietly. "I promise."
His promises have always been better kept than Seokjin's, it's a fact. There's
no shame in that, Seokjin thinks, in fact there's nothing but an overpowering
current of happiness filling him as Seokjin tightens his hold around Jungkook's
waist and buries a sob against the side of his neck.
 
                                      ---
 
"For the record," Jungkook says when they get back inside. "I'm still mad at
you."
"Shouldn't I be saying that-" Seokjin starts, but his retort withers into empty
air as Jungkook whirls around.
"I'm still more mad," Jungkook says childishly as he takes off his flimsy outer
coat and walks straight past Seokjin into the apartment. He plops down on the
couch and immediately pulls the fleece blanket over himself into a protective
cocoon.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No," Jungkook says stiffly and rolls over to face the wall. Seokjin sighs,
taking a seat next to him on the couch and runs a hand down his side. Jungkook
is frozen stiff, his skinny ribs still shivering from the prolonged cold. It
contrasts the warmth that floods his body as he pulls Jungkook snug against his
side.
"Where did you go?" Seokjin tries instead. "Where is the car?"
"Does it matter?" Jungkook says. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Because I'm worried," Seokjin answers honestly.
"Now, you're worried?" Jungkook laughs tonelessly into the cushions. "Why now?"
"I've always been worried," Seokjin says. "You know that. I can't stop worrying
about you and me and where all this is going. I wish that I could, but-"
"I wish you would too," Jungkook replies. "I already said I wasn't going
anywhere and that I don't want to."
"Okay, fair enough," Seokjin sighs and settles back himself.
"Fair enough?" Jungkook says and this time he turns around to glare at Seokjin.
"That's all you have to say?"
"No," Seokjin says. He's suddenly exhausted and his headache has only gotten
worse from all the running earlier. He turns away from Jungkook to stand up.
"Let's talk about this at a better time."
"Don't pull that," Jungkook argues. "Don't you dare."
"You're the one who said you didn't want to talk," Seokjin shoots back.
“Look at me dammit,” Jungkook demands. He pushes Seokjin’s arm aside to grab
him roughly and pull him down on the couch.
“I’m turning twenty-one this year,” Jungkook says slowly, spitting out the
number like it’s dirty. “Twenty. One.”
“And?” Seokjin says mutely, looking up.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says angrily.
“Like what?” Seokjin gestures wildly. His joints aren’t the sturdiest but he’ll
always be broader, taller, and wiser than Jungkook.
“Like I’m something to be pitied.” Jungkook’s teeth tear into his lips, all
harsh and wanting. They kiss like it’s summer again and Seokjin has just come
home from college, and Jungkook is waiting for him barefooted outside the
kitchen in Seokjin’s oversized college-sweater.
“I’m twenty now Seokjin,” he gasps. “I’ve seen almost as many sunrises and
sunsets as you. I’m almost as old as you were when we left home. Can you stop
looking at me like I’m five?”
“I know,” Seokjin says. Something terrible burns behind his eyelids.
“I’m older than this Seokjin,” Jungkook says. He pulls at his face and laughs.
“I’m old and you refuse to see it, because you can’t get over your stupid
paranoia about me being a minor when I’m not.
“I know you’re not.”
“Then why do you do this?” Jungkook demands, pulling at his chest.
“I don’t,” Seokjin protests. “I don’t mean to, but-
“But what?”
“But I can’t stop thinking about how I should have just kissed you when you
were 17, actually 17, because all this time you still are and I haven’t loved
you any less,” Seokjin whispers, keeping the waver out of his voice.
It’s out. Finally out in the open and all that’s left is for Jungkook to push
him away- to set Seokjin free from this madness, but Seokjin knows he won’t and
a selfish, twisted part of him will always want this. When Seokjin looks back
up, Jungkook’s eyes are closed. In the lowlight, Seokjin can make out the bob
of his adam’s apple as Jungkook blinks the tears out of his eyes.
There’s a dream Seokjin has sometimes and for a week it’s sometimes the only
dream that he’ll have.
In that dream Jungkook, still and forever 17, curls up against Seokjin on their
old ratty couch in the basement and presses his lips against Seokjin’s neck.
There’s smiles, secretive glances but at the end of each dream they’re always
stuck in the same place. They’re fighting, shouting the same argument from
years ago like clockwork. Jungkook’s angry, fist pounds against the wall when
Seokjin takes him into his arms and settles them both on the couch.
There’s anger in the lines of Jungkook’s lips, the furrow of his brows, but
Seokjin kisses him and kisses him until he drinks in all that anger, confusion
and lays Jungkook over his pounding chest. Jungkook breaths in, drinks the air
deep until it hits the bottom of his lungs, and lies quietly over Seokjin where
they both just breathe in fraught silence.
For a second Seokjin lets himself wonder. He lets his mind drift back nearly
half a decade ago when Jungkook had first come to him, lost and wanton. His
lips wet and red as they found purchase in Seokjin’s.
Seokjin, then 19, didn’t know what to do.
Given the chance, Seokjin knows exactly what he would tell himself. He would
tell Seokjin to stop running. To stop hiding because the people in town looked
at them a certain way and his friends at college couldn’t understand why he
thought of his little brother so often. He’d tell himself to stop being so
scared and leading Jungkook on when they both knew exactly what they wanted.
More than anything he’d tell himself to just love his brother, to love Jungkook
the way Jungkook deserved to be loved.
They could be 15 and 19 again, Seokjin on the cusp of leaving for college and
Jungkook indignantly refusing to finish his math homework. Seokjin looks at
Jungkook illuminated by the window light, reliving the years.
There are no cicadas outside, only the sound of cars honking and people
shouting. His own, traitorous heart hammering away. Seokjin can’t move back in
time any more than Jungkook can move past. They’re both stuck.
“You promised me a year,” Jungkook says plainly.
“I did.”
“You suck at keeping time.”
“I do.”
“You can kiss me now,” Jungkook says softly at first and then firmer. “You can
kiss me.”
Jungkook tastes the way he’ll always taste. Forever 17 and like fresh rain on
the tip of Seokjin’s tongue. It’s haunting as much as it is refreshing.
“Like that?” Seokjin asks. He watches as Jungkook’s eyes remain shut, the tip
of his tongue peeking out to lap at the corner of his mouth.
“Again,” is all Jungkook says and Seokjin for once, listens.
 
                                      ---
 
They kiss until the sun fades, draining all light from the room to the point
there’s nothing but Seokjin and Jungkook in the liquid dark. Their hands map
out each other’s bodies like two boys climbing trees in the dark, grabbing a
hold of each other. Their fingers brush across each other’s bodies, finding the
grooves, the scars, and the softness they’ve never known.
For the first time in over 6 years, Seokjin lets himself kiss Jungkook. He
drinks in his sweet moans and murmurs salty endearments into his skin without
hesitation. Seokjin kisses him for real, traces his tongue across his skin fro
the moles on Jungkook’s shoulder to the scar on his cheek. He presses his lips
against Jungkook's neck and feels the soft baby hairs on his nape tickle his
cheek.
“God, I want you. I want you so bad Seokjin,” Jungkook moans and it’s just like
every single wanton breath Seokjin’s heard in his dreams, only there’s
something so pure about the want in Jungkook’s voice. There’s no guilt in his
heart when he takes Jungkook into his lap, fingers mapping out the span of
Jungkook’s collarbones with his palms. 
He’s so, so real.
“Please,” Jungkook whines and Seokjin pulls him into his lap. His fingers find
Jungkook’s belt and Jungkook pulls his own shirt over his head. "Stop making me
wait anymore."
Both of them are still in their work clothes from the night before, and in
Seokjin's case his still reek of alcohol and vomit. Jungkook wrinkles his nose
as Seokjin pulls him close. He's always been sensitive to smell and he makes
his displeasure known by pulling at Seokjin's collar.
Seokjin's thought of this scenario so many times, it's almost laughable how
cliche the real version is progressing. It's him, Jungkook and a couch all over
again, only this time Seokjin has no reservations holding him back from cupping
Jungkook's face between his palms and kissing the breath out of him.
He traces the movement of air from Jungkook's open mouth to the sharpness of
his throat and down into the space spanning his ribs. Seokjin is so close that
he can feel every movement, every beat of his heart and he now that he knows
what it feels like to be this close, he never wants to leave.
He’s been treating this like an addiction, something he’s not meant to crave,
but Jungkook is here, still here and waiting. Seokjin pulls him in closer,
feeling the couch squeak under their weight.
Seokjin helps him unbutton his shirt and slides it over his head as well as
Jungkook makes quick work of his belt. They drop their clothes onto the floor
in a hurry and even though Seokjin's seen Jungkook naked before, it goes
without saying that it's never been like this.
"Do you have?" Jungkook starts. He wiggles his hips down against Seokjin's
growing erection.
"Lube," Seokjin finishes for him. "Fuck, I don't think so. Hold on."
He makes a move to push Jungkook off him, but Jungkook refuses to budge. He
keeps a stubborn hold on Seokjin's arm, refusing to get up.
"This isn't going work like this," Seokjin says firmly, but Jungkook clearly
has other ideas in mind. He twists over the side of the couch and rummages
through the drawer of the night table. He pushes a bottle, tiny and already
uncapped into Seokjin's open hand. Seokjin takes one look down and nearly rolls
his eyes.
"I'm not fucking you with hand lotion," Seokjin growls out and he can't even
believe they're having this conversation, but then Jungkook brushes his palm
down, fingers trailing from Seokjin's navel and down to the front of his
boxers, and Seokjin jolts up, bucking into his touch.
"Just do it," Jungkook groans. "Just hurry it up."
"I already said," Seokjin argues back. "I'm not going to do it, you'll get
hurt."
"Hand lotion is fine," Jungkook cuts him off. "It works, it's fine."
"How do you know it works?" Seokjin can't help but feel a little scandalized.
Jungkook lets out a gasp when Seokjin strokes him lightly. "Do you really want
to know?"
"Actually, no," Seokjin says. He takes the bottle, ignoring the triumphant look
on Jungkook's face. He spreads his legs, bold as he straddles Seokjin's lap to
make room for his hand.
"It's a little late for any TMI's," Jungkook says, but he's grinning as Seokjin
squeezes a generous portion onto his fingers. He traces down the inside of
Jungkook's thigh lightly, making him shiver from just the idea of contact.
"Ahhh," Jungkook jolts up and Seokjin's draws his hand back almost immediately.
"It's cold."
"You ready?" Seokjin asks. He braces a hand against the edge of Jungkook's hip
as his other hand rests between his cheeks. Jungkook nods, squeezes his eyes
shut as Seokjin gently pushes the tip of his finger in.
He takes his time, sweet and slow, until Jungkook is nearly crying into his
chest with pleasure. Jungkook is tight, almost too tight and it takes Seokjin a
lot of careful movements to work two knuckles in until he can slide his finger
in and out easily.
"More." Jungkook's thighs are shaking, but he pulls at Seokjin so eagerly that
it takes Seokjin a lot of willpower to hold back from adding all three fingers
at once. Jungkook's arms are shaking from the effort of keeping himself held
upright and Seokjin ropes an arm around his upper body to push him in closer,
until their foreheads are almost touching.
"Feeling tired yet?" Seokjin asks and Jungkook shakes his head even as a bead
of sweat rolls its way down his temple. "Just hurry please."
He slides a second finger in, pressing and curling his fingers in, whatever it
takes to get Jungkook to keen in pleasure. Slowly, Jungkook goes boneless
against him, his spine going placid as he leans all his weight forward against
Seokjin's chest.
The third finger barely meets any resistance at all and Seokjin's mouth goes
dry at the sight of how easily Jungkook takes it, breathing evenly and forcing
himself to remain relaxed. Part of Seokjin's sure he could just spend all day
doing this, watching Jungkook's toes curl in pleasure as he brushes right up
against his sweet spot.
Finally it's Jungkook that pulls his fingers out and presses his lips against
Seokjin's neck to tell him what he's been waiting for this whole time. "Go on,
I'm ready."
Seokjin lines himself up, but it's Jungkook that raises his body up and sinks
himself down on Seokjin's cock to ride him.
“God, this is so wrong,” Seokjin groans bottoming out. Jungkook is so, so
tight- the fit unbelievable. Brothers or not, their bodies were made to fit
together in the way only biological sinners can. He's sinfully warm and it
feels so good that Seokjin can barely breathe.
“Heard you the first time you said that,” Jungkook whines back. His hips
stutter as he pushes himself back on Seokjin’s dick. The arch of his back
addictive and Seokjin indulges him with more kisses peppered alongside his
collarbones.
"Take it slower," Seokjin urges. He presses in, licking the corner of
Jungkook’s mouth. The small whine of pleasure fills him with excitement, heady
and addictive. Seokjin only fears that he’ll never stop sinning. His skin soft
and burning hot under Seokjin’s mouth as he presses kisses across his chest.
"If you're not going to fuck me," Jungkook moans. "Then I will."
Jungkook lifts himself up and then back down, taking Seokjin's cock so easily
in a way that's absolutely obscene. Seokjin's mouth is dry as Jungkook does it
again, lifting himself with shaking thighs to take Seokjin down to the hilt.
"Fuck," Seokjin breathes as Jungkook bounces himself up and down, keeping a
steady rhythm as Seokjin digs his fingers into his side to keep a hold of him.
Jungkook sets the pace fast, bouncing himself up and down so hard that
Seokjin's sure that they'll both have bruises where their bodies meet in the
morning. Jungkook's lets out a squeak as Seokjin rocks up into him and the
departure from his usual quiet panting is enough for Seokjin to pull out.
"You okay?" Seokjin asks. Jungkook shakes his head vigorously, his hand already
wrapped around Seokjin's cock to slide him back in.
"Feels good," Jungkook pants, but it's obvious he's feeling tired. This time he
lets Seokjin bounce him up and down, rutting into him hard and fast. Jungkook's
arms are trembling, shaking from the strain by the time Seokjin pulls out and
flips their positions so that Jungkook's back is flat against the couch.
He pulls one of Jungkook's legs up and hoists it over his shoulder, pulling his
body back until he's bending Jungkook nearly in half. He lines himself up and
leans forward until their bodies are nearly parallel, so that he's covering
every inch of Jungkook, shielding him from above.
Jungkook makes a little whine and wiggles back down, trying to push himself
back onto Seokjin's cock, but Seokjin holds him still.
"It's okay," Seokjin hushes. "Hyung is going to take care of you now."
Seokjin sinks in and makes the mistake of looking down at Jungkook. Jungkook's
eyes are glassy, hazed with pleasure but he keeps looking at Seokjin, staring
at him like he's never seen anything that beautiful. The ocean, the trees, the
skies that they've seen. None of it compares.
It hits Seokjin that all these years, Jungkook might have been looking at him
all the time, but Seokjin with his head held close to the ground, too scared to
look up, never noticed.
"I love you," Seokjin blurts out and he's afraid for a second, because amidst
all his lies and promises, he's never said anything truer. Jungkook is still
for a second, his eyes wide and filled with a clarity that Seokjin can't
explain, can't even begin to fathom, so he settles for pushing his face into
the space between Jungkook's neck and shoulder and telling him again and again:
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
Jungkook simply nods, closing his eyes as Seokjin fucks into him rougher and
faster. His breath shakes when he finally replies. "Me too. It took you long
enough."
His voice is so small and it takes Seokjin to hear the sob caught inside of it.
He doesn't move from his spot, doesn't need to turn his face to know that
Jungkook is crying. Seokjin can feel the slide of wetness against his cheek and
the extra trembling in his chest.
Seokjin pushes in deeper, wraps his arms around Jungkook and tries his best to
absorb each and every sob that pushes its way through Jungkook.
"Seokjin, I'm close. I'm gonna-" He bites into Seokjin's shoulder and the pain
lancing down Seokjin's shoulder isn't nearly enough to cut through the coiling
pleasure filling his entire body as he rides out his orgasm.
He keeps his hips thrusting, fucking Jungkook through his orgasm until Jungkook
comes with a hoarse cry, spilling into the space between their bodies. Seokjin
fucks him through the aftershocks of it too, only slowing his hips when
Jungkook blinks back up at him, slowly coming back around.
There's no going back after this, Seokjin thinks. There's no going back anyway
they look at it.
"That's it," Seokjin says. "You okay?"
He watches Jungkook yawn, looking sweet and utterly fucked out. He nods back
and buries his face against Seokjin, nuzzling against his shoulder. Seokjin
carefully brings his arm around his side, pulling Jungkook snugly to his side.
Even in the dimness of the room, Seokjin can see everything. He's close enough
to see the paleness of his skin, the smooth slope of his nose and the cotton
soft brush of his dark hair. The way Jungkook smiles to stretch the sweet dip
of his upper lip that quirked up to give him his bunny appearance. Seokjin’s
addicted to the way his lashes flutter sleepily, feathered curtains casting
twiggy shadows into his already dark circles. Jungkook is gorgeous and Seokjin
knows he'll never get enough of this, enough of them together like this.
There’s no drug sweeter than how Jungkook tastes.
Seokjin’s been treating this like an addiction, himself the patient and
Jungkook like a sinful drug. It’s not fair to either of them.
All this time, he’s been so obsessed with Jungkook’s imminent youth that he’s
missed everything else. He’s missed the growth, all the troubles, pain and
loneliness Jungkook has suffered.
He takes Jungkook into his arms and holds him. By the time the sunrises,
Jungkook has drooled a line of saliva down Seokjin’s nightshirt. In the early
light, he’s still young, but Seokjin doesn’t know why he’s never seen the lines
of worry carved across Jungkook’s forehead that still persist even in his
sleep. Or how he’s never noticed the crinkle of crow's feet at the edge of
Jungkook’s eyes combined with the weariness of the skin stretched across the
tiny scar on his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Seokjin mutters against the crown of his head and Jungkook stirs a
little. The worry in his stomach will never fully settle, but the way
Jungkook’s hand finds his underneath the covers to curl their fingers together,
makes something even warmer in him burn- no longer primal or scared.
For the first time in over half a decade, Seokjin simply lets himself love
Jungkook.
 
                                      ---
                                        
They make breakfast from scratch, home style bacon and scrambled eggs fluffed
to perfection. Seokjin takes a seat at the dining table and waits for Jungkook
to bring the utensils. 
What they have here is a routine now, a habit born out of choice and a stubborn
love that nothing can smite out. It's easy being with Jungkook, easy to sit in
silence and read the distance between their palms until there's none left.
The news plays in the background, more static than actual news as Seokjin
watches Jungkook clear the dishes from the table and steps outside to check the
mailbox.
The cold outside is refreshing as he fills his lungs. 
He walks down the front steps and listens for the crunch of dead leaves beneath
his shoe. It'll be winter soon, spring after that and another countless cycle
of seasons before Jungkook ages another day or Seokjin remembers what it's like
to feel gnawed open by guilt.
From the moment Jungkook had woken up, Seokjin finally understood.
Jungkook’s eyes are old, maybe even older than Seokjin- and Seokjin hates
himself for never seeing it this whole time. It’s taken Seokjin an eternity in
the eye of a fruit fly to realize that and in the time he’s wasted, they’re
both in a sense, old now.
There’s a bitter edge of consolation in it though, because if it’s anyone’s
time Seokjin’s wasted, it’s his own. Biologically speaking Jungkook has time.
Jungkook officially has until eternity to see Seokjin well into the grave.
Whether he'll actually stick around to do so is another story and quite frankly
too far in the future for Seokjin to even fathom. 
He hears a second pair of footsteps following him, an echo of crushed leaves
behind him as a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist. 
"You're not wearing enough to be outside," Jungkook says, a teasing note to his
voice. "It's cold."
"I feel fine," Seokjin replies, spinning around to grab Jungkook in a half-hug
and tugging him close. 
"Let's get you indoors, old man," Jungkook laughs, looping the end of his scarf
over Seokjin's neck like a leash to tug him along. Seokjin lets him lead him
back up the steps to their home, before stopping in front of their door. 
"What's wrong?" Seokjin asks when Jungkook turns on his heel to face him
suddenly. "Why did you-" and that's all he gets to say before he feels
Jungkook's mouth pressed against his, kissing him out in the open for the world
to see. The wind blows through their hair, stinging at their cheeks as they
pull apart and Jungkook ducks his head into his scarf as if suddenly realizing
what he had done. 
"Are you?" he says softly. "Is that okay?" and Seokjin's only answer is to kiss
him back in case God didn't see the first time around
-and maybe it’s always been as simple as that. What they have here is timeless,
undefined by seconds, minutes, hours, years. Something that will last forever
far beyond the point when the world has burned over and laws, religion, and
taboos are nothing but stardust.
Seokjin pulls Jungkook’s hand in his, smooths his thumb across the baby soft
skin of his wrist, and leads them both back through the door home.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I honestly can’t believe I’m done. This fic was first posted back in
     July, but in reality has been a wip for me since basically March of
     this year. That’s right /MARCH/, that’s how long it’s taken me to
     finish this stupid thing. Sorry to everyone who I made wait and
     everyone else who had to sit through me whining about finishing this
     last night T__________T
     All the thanks to the best princessline for making all the fauxcest
     and infidelity dreams come true. I hate you guys, really. Look at
     what you’ve done. This is by far the longest fic I have ever worked
     on in terms of time frame and there are points where it really shows.
     From the start of 2015 to now, you can really kind of tell how my
     writing has changed which is both a) cool to kind of see b) a pain
     because it bothers me that this fic feels so inconsistent. Regardless
     of that, I probably won’t be making huge drastic changes to any of it
     because it’s writing and writing is supposed to show progress…or
     something like that.
     All jokes aside, it’s honestly impressive to see where and how people
     grow over the year- whether it's through personal development or
     through their craft, and I hope all of you (readers and writers
     alike) take the time to see and reflect on how you’ve grown
     throughout this year. This sounds cheesy, but every little bit of
     growth counts, don't ever sell yourself short- we can't all be stuck
     in neverland forever.
     Here’s to a great 2016 <3
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