He and Taehyung are on the floor of his room, books spread around them, sad and miserable and about three steps away from crying.

"Oh," Jimin says, peeking in through the door. "It's that time of the year."

"I hate my life," Taehyung says, no emotion in his voice.

"They're just exams."

Jungkook springs up into a sitting position, all ready to fight. "Just and exams do not go in the same sentence," he warns. "Ever."

Jimin rolls his eyes.

Taehyung scowls at him. "Just because your theory papers are easy - "

"My theory papers aren't easy - "

" - doesn't mean you can look down on our pain - "

"- have you even tried reading about the history of folk - "

"-fifty thousand diagrams of a single cockroach, and then I have to dissect it -"

"-you think that's hard? I'll dissect you - "

"Can someone make noodles?" Jungkook interrupts, because that's the only question that matters in life.

They both stop abruptly. "Oh," Jimin blinks. "Sure." He gives Taehyung a nasty look. "You want some too?"

Taehyung huffs. "Not with that expression on your face. My noodles will be cursed."

Jimin makes an even uglier face and leaves the room. Neither of them are very worried - they know he'll make food for Taehyung too.

"So here's the plan," Taehyung starts, smoothening the contents page of his textbook.

"Give up and die," Jungkook offers.

"...no. The plan is to finish a unit a day, in whatever subject. We'll be done by exam week."

"You'll be done," Jungkook corrects. "I can't finish that much in a day."

"Endurance," Taehyung says, in what must be an attempt to motivate him. He clenches a fist in front of his face. "Perseverance. Survival of the fittest. If you don't keep up natural selection will leave you behind."

"Go," Jungkook says, hand outstretched dramatically. "Evolve without me."

Taehyung kicks him.

"Here," he tries again, pushing Jungkook's textbook towards him. "Work out a schedule you can manage."

"But - "

"No buts. We'll pass these exams or die trying."

The next half hour passes in relative silence. They both look through their own texts, trying to spilt them into parts that make a bit of sense. ("We have to finish a week before the exams," Taehyung says, "Since we can't get anything done during practicals week"). There's a lot of stuff that Jungkook has already covered, during midterms and class quizzes and his midnight trips to Hoseok's store, but there's still so much that he doesn't know. He'll never finish, endurance or no endurance.

Jimin pops his head back in, three cups of food balanced in his arms. "Tada," he says cheerfully, already forgetting to pretend to be mad at Taehyung. He plunks the cups in front of them and sits to complete their triangle. "Eat up."

Jungkook thanks him wholeheartedly, digging in. He would marry Jimin, if only Jimin would agree to it.

"We eat too much noodles," Jimin says.

"We only eat noodles," Taehyung corrects, and he's only the slightest bit wrong. They do eat other stuff. Sometimes. Once in a while.

Jungkook spears a tiny bit of bell pepper on his fork and holds it up. "But there's a vegetable in it today!"

"Two, actually, there's an onion in there too," Jimin says. "But no, that doesn't change much."

They pause for a moment, considering the alternatives to their horrible lifestyle. They weren't like this at the beginning, because they didn't have a stove before. Instead they'd buy food, skip meals, eat snacks when they remembered to buy them. Which was worse than their current instant food habit.

The campus cafeteria does exist, but it's far from their dorms, on the other side of campus. It's annoying enough walking to and from classes - walking to the cafeteria is an unnecessary nuisance.

Okay, so they don't really care about their food habits. Sue them.

"It's okay," Taehyung says. "We can eat real food after two years."

Three, for Jungkook. Honestly he doesn't know how he's going to last a year without these two. What will he do with all his time? Live like Yoongi?

"Or we could get a bicycle," Jimin suggests. "Then we wouldn't have to walk everywhere. We could take turns getting food from the cafeteria."

"Who'll get the bicycle?" Taehyung asks.

A moment passes. None of them volunteer.

Jungkook sighs. They're all going to die.

"Ah," Hoseok says, as he scans the incredible number of coffee cartons that Jungkook has set on the counter. "It's that time of the year."

"They're not all for me," Jungkook mutters, a bit self conscious. "They're mostly for Taehyung."

Hoseok grins at him. He looks tired, which...isn't how he's supposed to look. It doesn't suit him. His smile is as bright as ever, but there are shadows under his eyes, and he moves stiffly, like his body is sore.

"You look tired," Jungkook says, as always the king of stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Hoseok says. "They're driving us crazy. End of semester and all."

It's true that the dance majors' theory papers are comparatively easier than theirs, but the horrors that they face in their practicals more than make up for it. Sometimes Jimin comes back to the dorms and just falls face flat, refusing to move unless they lure him with ice cream. It's not like Jungkook has the best time in the lab - if he breaks one more dc source this month he's pretty sure the professor will just fail him and get it over with - but at least he doesn't end up with sore muscles. Just an injured heart and intense self hatred.

So dramatic, Jimin would say, but what does he know. Stupid smart kids.

It bothers him how exhausted Hoseok looks, though. It especially bothers him because it's midnight already and here he is, selling people coffee, instead of going home and sleeping. He doesn't even think Hoseok needs the money, judging by how big his dorm room was - it had a kitchen and an attached bathroom and was overall just large. Jungkook could have afforded it, maybe, if he chopped up a chicken and sacrificed his soul.

"Can't you quit this job?" he asks. "Or work during the day?"

"I could," Hoseok agrees, handing him his bill and a plastic bag of his stuff. "But I like it too much. It's fun seeing who turns up at night, and if no one turns up it's fun anyway."

Jungkook can't decide if that's more creepy or weird. He settles for weird. Another part of him wonders if he isn't the only weirdo who keeps coming back here to talk to Hoseok, and if other people do too.

"But what about sleep?" he says.

Hoseok shrugs. "Who needs sleep. We can sleep when we're dead. Isn't that your philosophy, too?"

It sort of is, but Jungkook never succeeds at it and ends up crashing every few days. He doesn't think Hoseok ever takes a break, if Jimin's accounts of the legends of J-Hope are anything to go by. Sometimes Jungkook can't believe that the serious dancer in those stories and the boy who cheerfully manages the store are the same person.

"What about you?" Hoseok asks, changing the subject. "Exam prep going okay?"

"Nope," Jungkook says honestly. "That's why, coffee."

Hoseok sits up suddenly. "I just realized you're doing the same course as Jin," he says. "You could ask him for help."

Jungkook gives him a doubtful look. Seokjin is in his fourth year, his final year. No sane final year student would waste time on younger kids. Except Kim Namjoon, who is a bloody genius, and doesn't count, and also really doesn't count because he's tutoring Taehyung and Taehyung has a knack for making people want to help him out.

That's actually where Taehyung is right now, with Namjoon. Lucky guy. He doubts Seokjin would be willing to do something like that.

"He'd be too busy," he says.

Hoseok shakes his head. "Jin is never too busy. Want me to ask him?"

Jungkook considers his options. On one hand, he really does need the help. There's only so much he can do on his own, especially when he doesn't have friends in his class to ask for help. On another hand, he really, really doesn't want to waste Seokjin's time.

On another hand that Jungkook doesn't have but will pretend he does for the sake of the argument, he really likes his senior. A lot.

"I, um. I'll text you?"

"Sure," Hoseok says.

Jungkook sort of wants to stay and keep him company, in his usual haven under the counter, but he's learned in the past few days that he studies better with Taehyung looming over his shoulder shouting about genetic mutation and frog anatomy. It shouldn't work that way, considering they're doing completely different courses, but for some reason it inspires him to study his own stuff.

When he makes it back to his room, and starts taking out the disturbing number of coffee cartons that Taehyung had made him buy, his phone pings.

I might have asked Jin already, Hoseok says, with a sweat drop emoji next to it. But he says he'd love to help!

And another text, in quick succession, from an unknown number - Hey, Jungkook! This is Seokjin. Hoseok told me you wanted help with exam prep? When are you free?

He smiles a bit, alone in his room. It's amazing that he sort of has friends.

It's not like he's never been to Seokjin's room before.

Sure, the last time he was there he hadn't known that it was Seokjin's room. He'd only known Hoseok back then. And back then it had been terrifying enough, like one of those nameless places he sees in movies where college parties are held, where no one knows whose party it is, but for some reason everyone is there.

Somehow, going alone, without a crowd or his friends to hide behind, is even scarier.

It's hard enough finding the way to Dorm B - Jungkook never has any business in this part of the campus. He almost takes a couple of wrong turns, but he makes it to the dorms in one piece. Which is an achievement. Surely.

The building is still as tall and large and horrifying as ever. If he gets kidnapped halfway up the stairs (because like hell he's taking the elevator in a building of kids he doesn't know) he'll blame everything on Hoseok. Or Yoongi. It's nice to blame things on Yoongi, even when literally none of it is his fault. It soothes some petty part of Jungkook's soul.

Like, why is it raining? Yoongi. Why did you fail? Yoongi. Why is fifteen times three hundred and forty seven some unknown large number? Yoongi. It makes him feel good just thinking about it.

He passes too many people on the stairs. Most of them ignore him, but a few stare openly. They probably aren't used to freshmen turning up around here. He's a rarity. Or a potential human sacrifice. Maybe one of them will grab him and stuff him in a pot.

It's a relief when he makes it to Hoseok's room. The corridor is deserted, completely unlike what it had been the last time he was here. It's quiet. Serene.

He's barely knocked when the door swings open, revealing Seokjin, a wide smile on his face. Too wide for someone who's just subjected himself to a couple of hours tutoring a first year.

"Jungkook-ah!"

Jungkook smiles awkwardly.

"Oh, he's here?" Hoseok calls out, leaning out of another room. He's grinning too. They make an excellent pair of roommates. "Aw, it's the first time you've come over! Except for my birthday, of course. That didn't really count."

And then there's another voice, much lower, from a source that Jungkook can't see but can sure as hell identify - "Jungkook is here?"

...Yoongi.

Jungkook almost does a one eighty and marches right back the way he'd come, risk of being stuffed into a pot or not.

As if the knowledge that Yoongi is here isn't enough, the older boy appears next to Hoseok. He blinks at him. Jungkook blinks back.

"Now that we've all blinked at each other," Seokjin says, steering Jungkook inside, "Let's get to work."

Yoongi disappears again, into what Jungkook thinks is the bedroom. Hoseok, for whatever reason - he just seems excited by Jungkook's presence - joins him and Seokjin.

"Want something to drink? Eat?" he asks.

Jungkook starts to say no, but Seokjin beats him to it. "Since when do we ask people?"

Hoseok disappears into the kitchen before Jungkook can say another word.

"So," Seokjin says, sitting cross legged on the floor. Jungkook joins him. "I looked through the first year books again, and while I don't remember all the stuff, I remember enough to help. So how do you want to go about this? You want me to teach you, or work by yourself and ask questions when you have them?"

"I'll work on my own," Jungkook says, "And ask questions."

"Alright," Seokjin nods.

Jungkook takes out his books, still hyperconscious of the demon in the next room. He never even considered this possibility. He was so sure that Yoongi never left their dorms - not even to visit his best friend.

"Try these out," Seokjin says, circling a bunch of problems in his textbook. "Tell me if there's something you don't get." He doesn't leave the room, but sets up his laptop and starts working on whatever it is he needs to work on. There's a content sort of silence, only interrupted when Hoseok comes back and plunks a mug of soda and a bowl of chips next to him.

"Thanks," Jungkook says, and means it. Hoseok smiles and goes back to where Yoongi is.

It won't be so bad. He doesn't even need to see Yoongi. He'll be gone before he has to.

Seokjin, it turns out, is a bit of a slave driver. He doesn't want Jungkook to just solve the problems, he wants them worked out neatly, step by step ("But I know what I should do here!"- "Then write it down! Practice, practice!"). The moment he's done he puts him to work on another set, and then another, pausing to check them over and teach him anything he's got wrong. And make him redo it from scratch.

"But, hyung..."

"Keep complaining and I'll make you write it ten times."

Seokjin, it turns out, bests even Taehyung breathing down his neck.

Finally the older boy leaves to make dinner. Jungkook is left alone, working out his problems, the soft tinkering of pans and the smells wafting in soothing him. The last time he was here the place was terrifying, but now...it looks like a home. Like someone lives here for real.

There are posters and photos on the wall - mostly pictures of Hoseok and Yoongi, some of Namjoon, a lot of people who Jungkook doesn't recognize. Seokjin is only in two, and in both of them, his hand is stretched out of range of the camera, making it clear that he's still the one taking the photo. Jungkook crawls a bit closer to the wall to get a better look.

It's weird seeing younger photos of Yoongi and Hoseok. The ones with Yoongi are mostly indoors - in some he's outright asleep, but in a few, very few, he's smiling. Hoseok is smiling in all of them, or making goofy faces. In one photo they both have their hair dyed pink, and for some reason it doesn't look as disastrous as it should.

Jungkook wonders how long they've known each other, and how they all met.

"I can see you, you know," Seokjin calls from the kitchen, where he really can't see Jungkook, no matter what he says. "Get back to work."

"Oh, are you cooking? Need help?" Hoseok says, padding out of the bedroom. He has his hands on Yoongi's shoulders, steering him out. Yoongi looks like he wishes someone was dead, doesn't matter who. Jungkook looks away.

"I'm done," Seokjin snaps, wiping his hands on a cloth and coming back to join Jungkook. "How much have you done?"

Jungkook holds out his notebook for him to look over. Seokjin scans it quickly, nodding here and there, and then, out of nowhere, smacks Jungkook on the head.

"Ow," Jungkook says, rubbing the place he hit.

Seokjin points to a part of his calculations. "What."

"What?"

"You can't just make up your own formula if something doesn't fit."

Hoseok snickers. Jungkook wants to make a face at him but doesn't look up, because Yoongi is still here.

Seokjin writes the proper formula down at the side of the page.

"Ohhhh," Jungkook says. Seokjin pats him on the head.

"Take a break," he says. "Let's have dinner."

Jungkook blinks. "What, no, I'll eat back in my room."

"You have food?"

"...sort of?"

"Instant food doesn't count, kid," Yoongi says, speaking for the first time. "Just eat here."

"The dead has spoken," Hoseok declares. "It's decided."

Yoongi kicks him.

Seokjin doesn't give him much of a choice after that. He shuts Jungkook's notebook and tosses it aside, dragging him up by the hand and into the kitchen, where -

-and here Jungkook briefly forgets all of life's problems-

-there's food. Real food. That smells like...good food.

Hoseok laughs at his expression. "People are going to think you were starved."

Yoongi mutters something again, but Jungkook doesn't catch it.

Seokjin hands him a full, heaping plate, and points to the bean bag chairs for him to sit. Jungkook sinks into one of them. He takes one bite of the food, and instantly realizes that Seokjin is a kind of god.

He should've known, really, that Seokjin wouldn't like letting him go home alone.

"I came here alone," Jungkook protests, hoping they can finish the conversation out of Yoongi's earshot. No, he hasn't spent more than a week avoiding his senior just to be forced to walk home with him. He won't let this happen.

"It's dark now," Seokjin counters. "He lives two rooms away from you, there's no issue in kicking him out of here early - "

"He won't like it," Jungkook says earnestly. "He'll be mad. For sure."

"Doesn't matter. And then, to Jungkook's complete, complete horror, he leans into the bedroom and calls out. "Yoongi!"

"What."

Jungkook shakes his head violently, waving his hands no, but Seokjin just him. "Would you take Jungkook home?"

Yoongi looks up. He's wearing a giant pair of headphones, computer on his lap. He stares at both of them, like he's trying to figure something out, and then,

"Okay."

"It's fine!" Jungkook tries, as a last ditch effort. "It's fine, hyung, I can go alone. You can stay!"

Yoongi glances between him and Seokjin. He stares at Seokjin a moment longer, having a silent conversation of sorts. Then he pushes his headphones down to his neck. "It's alright," he says. "I need to leave too."

It's not alright, Jungkook wants to say. Don't come, don't come, don't come.

"I can ask a friend to pick me up," he tries. "So, really, you don't have to bother - "

Seokjin whacks him on the head again, shutting him up. So much for that. He should sue this guy for abuse of underclassmen, never mind that it doesn't hurt.

Yoongi packs his stuff up quickly. Jungkook thanks both Hoseok and Seokjin profusely (complete with the bowing and all), and promises to be back for the next session. The moment the door shuts behind them, leaving him and Yoongi alone, Jungkook knows he's in deep, deep, trouble.

Yoongi presses the button for the elevator, not turning to look at him. Jungkook stays a step behind.

"You really hate me," Yoongi observes, staring at the elevator screen.

"I don't," Jungkook says instinctively. And it's true, he doesn't hate Yoongi. He isn't even angry at him, honestly. It's just...hard to spend any time with him, now that Jungkook knows how badly he really thinks of him.

Thinking of that conversation makes his stomach churn, unsettled.

The elevator door dings open. It's empty, apart from them, and Jungkook can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Yoongi is quiet until they reach the ground floor. "I won't say I didn't mean what I said that day," he says. "But I could have phrased it better. I was too harsh, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay," Jungkook says, even though it isn't really. There's nothing to apologize for, this was never a fight. Yoongi always tells the truth, or what he thinks of it - his music makes that clear enough. Jungkook doesn't think he knows what it means to filter or sugar coat. Phrasing it better wouldn't have made a difference, because Yoongi had said precisely what he thought, and precisely what he thought was that Jungkook was a horrible lowlife.

Jungkook doesn't want him to apologize, he wants it to never have happened. To not be true.

Neither of them talk for the rest of the trip. They walk in complete, uncomfortable silence.

One day, far in the future, Jungkook will learn to carry an umbrella.

It's the third time he's been to Seokjin's tutoring sessions, and, thankfully, Yoongi hasn't been there again. The second time Seokjin had walked him home himself, but this time Jungkook protested enough, made speeches about how he was an adult and could take care of himself and has a pretty effective punch, just ask those kids who hurt Taehyung.

And now, only halfway back to his dorm, he is an adult who can take care of himself but doesn't have a freaking umbrella as the rain starts to pour.

The streets aren't completely deserted, so he doesn't run, a bit too self conscious. Instead he pulls his jacket closer, hugs his backpack close to himself, and stalks home, head down, water dripping down his face and freezing his bones. If he gets sick because of this, so close to exam week, he's going to cry. And fail. But cry first.

It's awkward passing anyone with an umbrella - a part of him wants to talk to them, ask them for help, but the other larger part insists that it's better going home wet than sharing an umbrella with a complete stranger. As he gets closer he passes less and less people, until finally he's all alone.

He should start running, make mad dash home, but there's no point now. He's already completely drenched. Instead, he steps onto the curb - a terrible idea, seeing as it's raining and slippery and balancing on things is the last thing he should be doing now - but he steps on the curb and starts to walk. Thinking of the day he'd done this with Seokjin, how his throat had closed up.

It doesn't matter that you can sing, Yoongi had said. What matters if you will.

And Jimin, show him that he's wrong. Show him that he's wrong.

He trips, steps off the curb. Then he just stands there, staring at the sky. The stars have disappeared behind the clouds, and it's dark, except for the dim streetlights. It reminds him absurdly of Yoongi's music.

He stares into the dark until it starts to consume him, and then slowly, slowly, he starts to sing.

The rain is pouring in buckets, it's the dead of night, and Jungkook sings into it, sings his heart out, voice shaky in the cold and weak against the rain. It doesn't feel good, the way music is supposed to. It has nothing of the power or the love or the feeling that makes someone look at you, listen to you, feel a bit of what it is to be you. It's cracked and terrible and there's nothing glorious about it - nothing besides a terrified boy just out of high school who's never learned what it means to follow a dream.

But there's no one to listen to him, no one to call him out on it, so Jungkook sings until his voice is hoarse and jacket soaked and he can't go on any longer, and he wonders briefly if this is how Yoongi feels when he raps.

Like he's nothing, like he's worthless, like he loves it all the same.

He doesn't know when he makes it back to the dorms. It's late, much later than it should be, and he's digging in his wet pockets for his keys when Yoongi's door slowly opens.

"Hey," Yoongi calls, voice hoarse. From sleep or disuse or caffeine abuse, only he could say.

"Oh. Hey," Jungkook says, trying not to meet his eyes. He shuffles awkwardly, digging his key into the lock.

He wonders if Yoongi will tell him off, for coming back wet and cold. He'd told him off the last time.

"I have left over food," Yoongi says, pointing behind himself. "You can have some." He says nothing of the state Jungkook is in, but he's frowning a bit, looking him up and down.

"Sorry, hyung," Jungkook says, and why the hell is he apologizing, "I already ate." And it's true, Seokjin had given him some food.

Yoongi looks...uncomfortable. He looks like he wants to apologize or something, which makes even less sense. For the first time since he's met him Jungkook feels like they're on equal footing. Equally awkward.

"You have like one meal per day," he deadpans. "And you're going to end up sick. Just...get inside."

Jungkook hesitates. He still has one hand on his doorknob, ready to go in. Maybe the cold has numbed his brain, maybe it's just that Yoongi doesn't look like himself. Whatever the reason, he finds himself nodding.

"I'll just get changed first," he says. Yoongi nods stiffly and disappears.

Jungkook changes quickly, tossing his wet clothes in a heap over the rest of his laundry - he really needs to do his laundry - rubs his hair with a towel enough to not drip all over the floor, and goes back to Yoongi's room. The door is slightly ajar, he knocks once and pushes it open.

Yoongi is at his desk, like usual, but he isn't looking at his computer, instead staring at the ceiling. He sits up when he hears Jungkook come in, frowning at him. "Your hair is still wet."

"...yeah." He touches it, uncomfortable - it isn't dripping anymore, but it is considerably damp. Yoongi stands, digging through his shelf for something - a towel, it turns out, and plops it on Jungkook's head. Jungkook holds onto it by reflex, half heartedly rubbing it through his hair.

Yoongi watches him for about five seconds, before scowling and grabbing it from him, towelling his hair viciously. Jungkook is so shocked he almost forgets to protest.

"It's fine, hyung," he says, trying to take it back. "I can - "

Yoongi cuts him off. "Is this going to be a regular thing?" he asks. "Getting drenched in the rain? Because if it is I'll just write you off as dead now and not bother."

He can't see Yoongi's face through the towel. It makes it a bit easier to talk to him.

"I was singing," he tells him.

The towel pauses. "You were singing."

"Yeah."

"In the rain."

"Yeah."

"This isn't freaking high school musical, kid."

"It didn't feel like it," Jungkook admits. "Too dark. Sort of cold. A bit sad."

Yoongi tugs the towel up a bit to look at him. "Did you always sound this drunk?"

Jungkook shrugs.

Yoongi sighs. "I should just get Taehyung," he says. "I honestly don't know how he deals with you."

Jungkook starts. "You talk to Taehyung hyung?"

"If it counts that he barged into my room uninvited to check if I was a serial killer and to tell me to treat his youngest son like glass, then yes, I talk to Kim Taehyung."

"I'm not his son," Jungkook says, wrinkling his nose. And then, more importantly, "Youngest son? He has other sons?"

"God help me," Yoongi says, attacking the towel with new vigour.

It's a good few minutes before he deems Jungkook good enough and lets go, hanging the towel over his chair. Then he hands Jungkook a mug of steaming soup, pushing aside some of the junk on his bed for him to sit. He picks up a bowl of soup for himself. The sad facts of having no visitors - you never have matching dishes.

Jungkook blows at his soup carefully. Yoongi gulps down spoonfuls, taking no such care. It feels wrong somehow.

"Have you heard of the end of year fundraiser concert?" Yoongi asks, at random.

"The one next term?" Jungkook asks, and Yoongi nods. He has heard of it, it's all some of his classmates talk about. It's apparently a pretty big deal. Such a big deal that people have started preparing for it already. "What about it?"

"I've been asked not to participate."

"Huh?" That was new. He thought that anyone could participate, that was the point. There was no selection or application process.

"Yeah, they made a special exception for me," Yoongi says. His expression is strange, half a self deprecating smile, half a frown. "Because my music is so terrible."

Jungkook says nothing.

"Yeah. Namjoon pointed out that if I cared so much I should just try other styles of music, but I feel like that's cheating a bit."

There's silence for a moment. "Why are you telling me this?" Jungkook asks at last, and then realizes how confrontational it sounds. "I mean, not that I don't want to know, I just - "

"I'm just saying," Yoongi cuts him off, before he makes a fool of himself, "that I haven't figured out my dreams yet either. I thought I wanted to be famous, have the entire world know my name, show all the people back home that they were wrong. But now I'm wondering if it's worth making music about things I don't understand to get there. I don't know what I'm doing in my life, Jungkook. So don't take it seriously when I judge yours."

Jungkook stares at him. Yoongi doesn't stare back, concentrating on his bowl of soup. It's not an apology, Jungkook doesn't know what the hell it is, but he looks so sad. Jungkook can't feel angry at him anymore, he's just...confused. A bit concerned.

"You don't have to make music about things you don't understand," Jungkook says cautiously.

Yoongi snorts. "You've heard my music, kid. No one likes it as is."

"It's dark," Jungkook agrees, "And, well, terrifying. It's like what I said before. It's just black, and there's no end to it."

Yoongi frowns. "You want me to give it a happy ending? A bit of hope? Because I can't do that. I don't know how that works."

Jungkook wishes for the millionth time that he was a bit better with words. "Yeah," he says, because that much is obvious from the music Yoongi writes, "But you know what it feels like to want to feel hope, right?"

Yoongi pauses, and Jungkook immediately feels like he's overstepped his boundaries. It's quiet for too long. Too awkward.

"Huh," Yoongi says at last, putting his spoon back into the bowl. "I'm not sure what you meant to say, but I think I understood something."