They eat dinner after the show. Barbecue, at one of the kitschy, family-run places that Namjoon's been frequenting since he was a kid. They score a table near the back and cram in so close they knock elbows with each other as they eat, but no one seems to mind. It's nice, Yoongi thinks, being together like this at once, so close he not only feel the heat from the grill, but the warmth from Jimin and Taehyung at his sides.

Yoongi doesn't miss how Taehyung gives him the best pieces of meat he can grab before Seokjin and Jungkook can get to them. He doesn't miss how Taehyung's head will lag towards him, as if wanting to draw nearer or ask a question but unsure of how to do so. Yoongi definitely doesn't miss how, through most of the evening, Taehyung maneuvers one hand to eat; the other remains resting on Yoongi's thigh. Large, light. A gentle reminder that I'm here, I'm here. As if Yoongi could ever forget. As if Taehyung isn't the first person that Yoongi searches for when he enters a room.

(Yoongi thinks he scared Taehyung tonight. Yoongi thinks he scared all of them, just a little, but especially Taehyung.)

They split ways a dozen servings and a handful of soju bottles later. Namjoon's got Hoseok on his back. Seokjin lingers near them, a hand floating at his side, as if he's waiting for someone to drop. Jimin's half-way to the moon, but he's always been a good drunk, and Yoongi just smiles as he croons an American pop song Jungkook's direction while blearily signing along to the lyrics. It's impressive that some of it is even legible, and Jungkook laughs and catches Jimin when he stumbles over an outcrop of the sidewalk.

Yoongi watches them, feeling smeary at the corners, hands shoved deep in his pockets. A weight falls on his shoulders, then a puff of breath, then Taehyung murmuring quietly beside his ear, "Hi, hyung."

Yoongi's not drunk, but he's not sober either. His arms are heavy. So are his legs. Inside it's wafty, though. It's a disconcerting combination, to be both grounded and star-bound at once.

Taehyung makes a small noise of surprise when Yoongi rocks back and falls into his chest. His hands come up to Yoongi's waist and hesitate there, as if Taehyung is bolstering himself, maybe asking permission.

Yoongi presses in closer. Feels Taehyung shudder. Tucks his chin to hide his smile when Taehyung finally folds Yoongi up in his arms and squeezes.

"Hey, hyung?" Taehyung says, this time against Yoongi's neck. Yoongi bumps their heads together, a signal that he's listening. "You were really incredible tonight."

Yoongi's gotten more compliments in his life than he knows what to do with. Tonight especially there have been an obscene amount. But something in the way Taehyung says it, or maybe because it is Taehyung saying it, has Yoongi's chest fizzing and crackling with unspoken emotion.

Yoongi pulls a hand from his pocket, trails it along Taehyung's skin until he finds the back of Taehyung's palm. Taps twice.

Taehyung hums. "You're welcome."

There's a shout, a screech, a bout of laughter. Yoongi looks over to see that Jungkook has attempted (and succeeded) in getting Jimin on his back and they are now in a heated sparring session of dry-land chicken. Seokjin is cursing (rather colorfully) about how they're all embarrassments and that he's not taking anyone to the hospital again just as Jimin kicks Namjoon in the butt and Hoseok goes tumbling into Seokjin's outstretched arms.

They seem okay. Hoseok's a giggly mess on Seokjin's chest, the two of them sprawled on the concrete as Namjoon smiles sweetly over them, the picture of unbothered boyfriend. Jimin appears to have fallen asleep on Jungkook's shoulder, or at least given up at keeping his eyes open, a smile stretched wide across his face.

They split ways after that. There's no way Yoongi's getting Hoseok home, so Namjoon pulls him on his back again to take back to his and Seokjin's place. Jimin seems set on staying attached to Jungkook for as long as possible, so Jungkook says he'll take him back to the apartment.

"TaeTae, you comin'?" Jimin warbles out, glancing their direction.

"I'm gonna walk hyung home," Taehyung says without even glancing Yoongi's way. Yoongi's cheeks warm. "Meet ya back at home soon."

Jungkook's frowning, like he wants to say something, but Jimin's tugging his ear, signing something quick and sloppy that Yoongi can't distinguish in the dark. It doesn't ease Jungkook's expression, but it does have him turning to head in the same direction the others took, power-walking to catch up. Yoongi can hear Jimin's jostled giggles from here.

"Shall we, hyung?"

Yoongi shrugs and spins, taking off at the sound of Taehyung's low laughter. They walk mostly in silence, Taehyung occasionally breaking in to acknowledge a stray cat or a street performer. Yoongi nods along, feeling lighter the longer the night drifts on, and by the time they make it to his apartment entrance, it finally dawns just how tired he is. Physically, yeah. Physically he's always tired. But this feels a bit deeper than just a much needed nap.

Yoongi presses a hand to his sternum and stands there, rubbing, staring at his feet.

There's this ache, right at the base of his throat, spilling down behind his ribs. Sadness, maybe. Or maybe something similar to it. Regret. Or longing.

Tonight was good. Tonight was really good. Yoongi hasn't played like that in months. Yoongi has felt that way about playing in years. Like it was more than just an assignment or an expectation. It wasn't drudging and it wasn't frightening, not in a bad way at least. Dr. Choi would say it was cathartic. Jimin would compare it to a blood transfusion; all the infected blood getting pulled out so that healthy blood can take its place and the body can begin the process of healing.

Yoongi just thinks that he's tired, and that he's been tired for a very long time, and maybe now he can finally rest a bit.

"Hyung?"

Taehyung's on the step below him, looking up with that topsy turvy smile. Face filled with warmth. He's in one of his silky shirts again. Pressed slacks. A forest green pea-coat. No hat, tonight. Tonight he wears his hair curled to the side and it's outstanding what a pair of eyebrows can do to a person's face. Taehyung's eyebrows have lives of their own.

"Hyung?" Taehyung repeats, this time without a trace of the smile. This time with his hand outstretched, hesitating, just before he cups Yoongi's face and trails his thumb beneath Yoongi's eye. Like Yoongi does to him whenever he finds a stray lash.

Taehyung keeps stroking his cheek, though, then reaches up to hold the other, and Yoongi doesn't even realize that Taehyung is wiping away his tears before this wild, ragged sob is ripped from his chest.

"Oh, hyung," Taehyung murmurs, and Yoongi just shakes his head and lets Taehyung tug him in close to hold.

It's not the first time Yoongi's cried in Taehyung's arms. A few years ago this would be an unheard of situation; a few months ago this would have been alarming. Tonight, though, it's just warm. Tonight, Yoongi is tired in every meaning of the word, in the arms of a boy who makes him ache with tenderness. Who, if Yoongi told he loved him, might just say it back.

In the morning, Yoongi wakes before the sun. He's taken to leaving the curtains open, so on the mornings when the noises of Hoseok getting ready don't stir him, the light will.

But Yoongi doesn't wake because of sunlight. Instead it's to a weight on his chest, dampness on his throat. Yoongi blinks and tries to shove the covers off where they've tangled around his body and just gets a startled groan in response.

Taehyung's sputtering from where Yoongi nailed him in the sternum, eyes pinched shut and curled in like a roly poly against Yoongi's side, and Yoongi realizes belatedly that it wasn't the duvet that was trapping him, but Taehyung's limbs. He blinks and picks at his shirt. The wet collar of his sweater sticks to his skin.

Drool. Taehyung was drooling on him.

"S'ry, hyun'," Taehyung drawls, and Yoongi looks over and finds Taehyung staring up at him from under those stupid, thick lashes. A sleepy smile filled with flirt is centered right at him.

Yoongi's eyes slit. He reaches out, and with one finger, traces the impressions left on Taehyung's face from the sheets. Along his jaw, over the mole under his lip, the one on the tip of his nose. His lash line, the right one, where another beauty mark likes to hide. Up and up, a gossamer touch that has Taehyung fluttering, right until—

"OW!"

Taehyung curls in on himself and Yoongi, still poised mid-flick, laughs so hard that Taehyung threatens to give him CPR if he doesn't start breathing soon.

~~~

Taehyung leaves not two weeks later. Yoongi, with Jimin in tow, take a cab with him to the airport. The others already bid their goodbyes in the days leading up, and while Taehyung said he didn't need anyone to see him off, he's kept a steady hold on Jimin's hand the whole ride.

He's not taking much. Just a carry-on and a large suitcase. Jimin's worried he's packed too light (even though Yoongi knows for a fact that it was Jimin who packed everything up the night prior); but Taehyung says anything he needs he can just buy over there with the allowance the program is giving him.

"I'll bring back souvenirs," Taehyung grins, stooping down to knock his forehead into Jimin's.

Jimin makes a giggly, chirpy sound and presses a wet smack against Taehyung's temple before Taehyung can dodge away. Not that he would. Yoongi's learned that Taehyung is a fan of kisses, in all their forms. Seokjin likes to grab the top of Taehyung's crown and kiss the spot where his hair parts. Hoseok always aims for a cheek. Jimin will just kiss whatever body part is closest: hands, elbows, ankles, ears.

"Gonna miss you Chim," Taehyung says, quiet enough that only their little trio can pick up the words.

Jimin hums and burrows in close. Taehyung rocks them side to side, aggressive enough that Jimin loses his footing. His high laughter gains the attention of a few passersbys, but Jimin's not the same person from five years ago, when he would rather walk a couple feet apart from Yoongi than risk someone calling them out as a couple. This older Jimin, though, is loud in the best of ways, and sometimes Yoongi thinks he might love him even more now than he did back then.

Jimin pulls away, non-discreetly wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeves. He moves aside and then turns around in this obvious way, as if giving them what little privacy he can in a crowded terminal on a near-summer Saturday.

Yoongi's not sure what Jimin knows about them, but this might be because Yoongi's not even sure what he knows. What he and Taehyung are.

He's had Taehyung over for dinner a few times since the night of the concert. Hoseok's always there, though, and on one occasion Jungkook as well. They've visited two museums, have had countless library coffees, and on a particularly bright Sunday morning, Yoongi invited Taehyung to the music hall to listen to him practice. Nothing self-written, just homework for class; but Taehyung listened through it all as he worked on a psych paper with this melted smile that Yoongi found was difficult to keep his eyes trained on for too long.

(Yoongi has many of those moments with Taehyung. Where he has to look at him from the side because sometimes it almost hurts to look at him face-on.)

They haven't talked, though. Haven't touched. So Yoongi's not sure what they are, he just knows that Taehyung is beautiful, and that Taehyung makes him feel steady and sure, and that Taehyung is going to be gone for three months and long-distance isn't something Yoongi wants to battle just yet so now is definitely not the time to confess his feelings, whatever they may be.

But all that is Yoongi working under the assumption that Taehyung would say yes.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi is almost certain that Taehyung would say yes. Certain enough that he'd bet his drum controller and his MIDI keyboard on it. So certain that, when Taehyung holds his arms wide for a hug, Yoongi rocks up on his toes and presses his mouth to the fullest part of Taehyung's smiling cheek.

Yoongi falls back to earth, hands tucked into his pockets, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Taehyung is looking at him, all dazed and confused, and Yoongi raises both brows.

"Oh," Taehyung murmurs cheerfully, blinking as if coming back to himself. His grin is enormous. "Oh."

Oh, Yoongi mouths, nodding, fighting off a smile as he falls forward again. Taehyung scoops him in, holds him tight, rocks him much gentler than he did with Jimin.

The intercom announces boarding for Taehyung's flight, then. They break away, Taehyung still looking bubbly and delighted. He hugs Jimin once more, fast and hard. Looks at Yoongi for a long, drawn out moment before loping forward, quick as can be, to push aside his bangs and kiss him in the center of his forehead.

Taehyung flees after that, leaving behind only the scent of cinnamon, Jimin curled in on himself in hysterics, and Yoongi with one hand pressed against his burning skin while the other remains resting over his drubbing heart.

~~~

It's strange to think that there was a long moment when Yoongi didn't know Taehyung was there.

Sure, he was always there; behind the counter of the cafe, serpentining around the shelves of the library, cheerfully greeting cats between the alleys of the arts buildings. Taehyung was there long before Yoongi was aware, and Yoongi is only truly realizing this now that Taehyung is gone. The emptiness of his absence aches.

There's a drawn out meow from his side, and Yoongi glances over to see that Hatsepshut has plopped herself on the step beside Yoongi's feet. She's staring off in the distance, one leg bent under her fat belly. She sits like a person. Yoongi always thought this was funny.

She meows again, a forlorn sound.

Yeah , Yoongi mouths, a slight sigh slipping out. I miss him, too.

Yoongi doesn't try to pet Hatsepshut and she doesn't try to run. That's how Hoseok finds him a half-hour later: perched on the steps with an overweight cat who is attentively listening to him recount the entirety of Inception.

Hoseok blanches. Are you arguing with a cat about the ending to that dumb movie?

Just because you only watch biographical sports films doesn't mean it's dumb, Yoongi claps black. Hatshepsut meows. See? Hattie agrees.

Hyung, Hoseok signs, eyeing the two of them warily. Do I need to host an intervention? It's only been four days.

He hasn't texted.

He's getting settled.

Yoongi frowns. I want to hold his hand.

You can hold my hand, Hoseok signs. How about that?

Yoongi huffs and shrugs and immediately reaches for Hoseok's hand who tugs him up with a laugh and a squeezy side-hug and the promise that they can watch whatever Yoongi wants during dinner that night.

~~~

He gets the call at 2:32 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

Yoongi stares at the skype message that's appeared in the top corner of his screen, the bubbling beeping reinforcing that Kim Taehyung is indeed trying to video message him.

Yoongi watches Taehyung's selfie (he's got both hands cupped to his cheeks, lips pursed, his bright yellow beret tilted so far to the side it's about to slip off) for a few seconds. Maybe more than a few seconds because the video notification quiets, disappears, starts up just a few moments later.

Hoseok nudges his foot and Yoongi startles, glancing up to where he and Namjoon are staring at him curiously.

"You okay there, hyung?"

Yoongi flips his screen around in response, and both Hoseok and Namjoon squint, searching for an answer, simultaneously noticing Taehyung's video request.

Why's he calling me? Yoongi signs frantically. The beeping ceases and they all watch in unison to see if it starts up again.

It does.

Hoseok clicks the answer button.

NO! Yoongi flails, but Taehyung's already popping up in-screen as the resolution adjusts.

Yoongi shrinks back to hide, watching from the side as Taehyung lifts a hand in greeting. "Hi! This is a warm welcome."

"Hi, Tae!" Namjoon grins as Hoseok waves both hands in a little dance. "How's it going?"

"Great!" Taehyung grins back, adjusting his headband so his fringe is out of his eyes. "Finally got settled in. Had my first full week of classes. Everyone here is so smart."

"Well that's why you're there too," Namjoon translates for Hoseok, then says in his own words, "You're brilliant, Taehyung-ah. Don't forget that."

"Thanks, hyung," Taehyung grins, all teeth and squinty eyes. "Is Yoongi-hyung around?"

"Yup," Namjoon answers just as Hoseok turns the laptop before Yoongi can drop to the floor. "Right here. We'll leave you to it."

Hoseok and Namjoon both scuttle off to the front counter as a pretense for giving him and Taehyung privacy, but Yoongi knows they're just going to go gather Jimin and do recon from the privacy of the espresso machine.

"Hi, hyung."

Yoongi takes a deep breath and gives a little wave. Taehyung beams back at him in high-definition. Curse modern day laptops and their fancy webcams.

It's been a week since Taehyung left. He's texted the group-chat twice: once to notify them he landed safely, and again to let them know that he made it to the dorm he'll be staying in for the duration of his program. Since then it's been quiet, which makes sense, what with him adjusting to the time-difference and a new culture and getting settled in. Yoongi didn't expect much. Tried, not to expect much. But they've gone from complete silence to Yoongi having to look at Taehyung's exposed forehead and it's a bit much. His tongue feels all twisted. His chest feels worse.

"Sorry for not asking if the video call is okay," Taehyung starts, and Yoongi rests his hands on the keys to type out a message, let him know that it's fine, that he understands, "but there's something that I really wanted to ask you."

Yoongi pauses, gaze flitting back to Taehyung.

Taehyung, who has his hands raised.

Taehyung, who slowly signs, How are you?, in KSL.

Yoongi freezes and Taehyung bites his lip, repeats the question, and Yoongi curls his fingers open, closed, open, a little unsure of how to use them.

I'm good, Yoongi signs back tentatively, slower than he would with Hoseok or Jimin, and Taehyung watches his hands and smiles. Yoongi hesitates, then asks, You?

Tired, Taehyung signs. Learning a lot. Met a cat in park! You would love.

Love, love, love.

Yoongi slams his laptop shut. Stands. Looks over to where he knows the others are watching and his expression must be terrifying because Hoseok is jogging towards him, arms outstretched, is pulling Yoongi into a tight hug and Yoongi doesn't know where it comes from but he sucks in a ragged breath and just starts crying.

"Hyung? Hyung, what happened?" Jimin asks, sliding up to his side, worry making his lisp come out thick. "That was Taehyungie, right? Is everything okay?"

Yoongi nods, shakes his head. His cellphone is ringing and Namjoon leans over to pick it up. "Taehyung is calling you. Want me to answer?"

Yoongi nods, shakes his head.

"Hyung, I need you to be a bit clearer with me."

"I'll answer it." Jimin takes the phone, swipes the screen. "Tae? Hey, it's me. What happened? We had a plan."

A plan? A plan for what?

"I know, I saw. What'd you say? A cat?" Jimin turns towards Yoongi incredulously. "Hyung, are you crying over a cat?"

Yoongi shudders, presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. Nods. Shakes his head again.

Signing, he mouths, and it's quiet as they watch his trembling hands. Taehyung learned sign.

"Yeah," Jimin says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. "We've been practicing for months. He said he wanted to learn for everyone. Wait, hold on a sec. Yeah?"

Jimin nods and holds out the phone, and Yoongi sniffs and presses it against his ear. Jimin leans in close to the speaker and says, "Okay, he's listening Tae," then rocks back to give them space.

"Hyung," Taehyung says, voice so warm and thick that Yoongi closes his eyes, sniffles. "Hyung, I learned for you. It'll be nice for everyone of course, but I'm learning sign for you. I want you to know that." A long breath, a soft, "It's always been you."

Yoongi shudders. Nods. Holds out the phone for someone, anyone to take. Jimin slips back in close to grab it. "Tae? Yeah, one sec. Hyung, are you good for Tae to video call you again?" Yoongi nods, his eyes now closed, trying to gather his strength. "Taehyungie, he's good. Try again in a minute. Alright, love you. Bye."

Silence settles around them, and Yoongi opens his eyes to three concerned gazes resting on him as if waiting for him to burst again.

I'm okay, he signs, and they all melt at once.

"We're going to move to another table," Namjoon says, already gathering his and Hoseok's things in his long arms. "But let us know if you need anything."

Hoseok nods and hugs him quick, Jimin stepping in after. And then it's just Yoongi alone at the table, breathing deep the way he does in his sessions sometimes, when his body feels small but his emotions are all so large.

He lifts the screen. Plugs in his headphones and sticks one bud in an ear. Waits half a minute. Promptly answers when the notification begins to trickle again.

Taehyung blinks back at him, looking unsure and a little frazzled. The front of his hair is sticking up the way the Namjoon's does when he runs his hands through it too many times.

You hang up again? Taehyung signs.

Yoongi shudders and shakes his head. Signs, No. Never again. Tell me about your day. Tell me everything.

Taehyung beams at him, pleased, and between a mixture of sign language, speaking, and the occasional app message, Taehyung tells him all about the project and his classes, of course, but also about the cat he discovered in the park that is possibly even fatter than Hatshepsut and all the thrift stores he's been scouring for scarves and food trucks with so many varying menus it always feels like he's taking a trip half-way around the world at lunch.

Still haven't found real Korean food, he signs with a wink. But I'm looking.

Yoongi talks to him back, tells him about Namjoon's obscure musings from the radio show and how Jin convinced his landlord to let him have a dog that's over the weight limit and that he wrote a song, another song, but this one is sad and he doesn't know if he should keep working on it. If he wants to.

Sad feelings matter too, Taehyung signs to him, and Yoongi watches his hands move gracefully with each movement. They've grown more steady the longer they've spoken. Sad feelings make ... Taehyung trails off, searching for words, and Yoongi gestures for him to speak.

"Sad days remind us that we're human," Taehyung says, voice thick with sleep. It's almost 1am over there, and he's stayed on for so long. Yoongi should let him go, but he's missed this so much. "That we're not perfect. That it's okay not to be perfect."

When Yoongi doesn't react first, Taehyung's sure smile fades to something more hesitant.

Can you read lips? Yoongi mouths, and Taehyung squints on screen. Can you read lips, he signs, and Taehyung shakes his head, signs back, No, still working on it.

I like you so much, Yoongi mouths to him, never looking away. You are so beautiful.

Taehyung quirks his head to the side to rest on his arms. He smiles happily even though it's bleary at the corners. "That's not fair, hyung."

Life isn't fair, Yoongi signs, and Taehyung laughs quietly. He just looks at Yoongi for a long time after that, eyes roving his face, like he's searching for something. Yoongi's not sure what to give him, so he just stays still until Taehyung says in a sleep-worn voice, "Hyung, I need to go to bed."

Okay, Yoongi signs, then adds. Thank you.

"Mmm. Love you, hyung."

Yoongi clutches his hands to his chest. Taehyung stills, eyes going wide, and before he can pull a Yoongi and log-off without a word, Yoongi signs back quick and precise, I love you, too.

Taehyung pauses, half-way sitting up. Stares at Yoongi's hands. Stares at Yoongi.

Signs back carefully, I love you?

I love you, Yoongi signs slowly, mouths equally careful, trying to keep a straight face. But Taehyung looks so happy, so absolutely moon-eyed it's difficult to manage.

"Good night, hyung," Taehyung whispers, quiet enough that the mic barely picks it up and Yoongi has to read his lips. "Talk to you soon?"

Yoongi nods, waves, and they both click out at the same time.

Yoongi stares at his wallpaper for a few seconds. It's one Taehyung took. A black and white evening sky. The view from the radio station roof.

"Did you just confess to Taehyung via video call?" Jimin slides into the seat across from him, leaning so far over the table he's practically laying across it. He looks like a man half-possessed. "Please tell me you did not just confess while Tae is six thousand miles away."

Yoongi shakes his head, nods, shakes it again. Jimin lets out a shrill scream that has Namjoon busting up across the room and one of the baristas threatening to kick them out regardless of whether they know the owner or not.

~~~

They don't talk everyday. Neither of them have the time or energy for that and they both have other more demanding commitments. But they each send off a photo at the end of their days. A meal they ate. A flower in a park. A dog. A cat. A squirrel. The drawing of one of Taehyung's kids that looks like a hairless raccoon and is honestly a bit frightening.

Have you ever seen a hairless raccoon? Yoongi asks Namjoon one night, mid-song at the station. Namjoon shakes his head and they look it up together, then promptly close the tab and promise to never search for such a cursed image again.

~~~

A month in Yoongi starts to send Taehyung song clips. Just fifteen seconds here or a half-minute there. Fully built out bridges and tiny piano melodies. Taehyung doesn't know a lot about music, not the technicalities behind it the way Namjoon and Jungkook do; but every song he listens to he describes back to Yoongi in colors and feelings and images.

Yoongi takes a leap one night and sends him the song from all those months ago. The one he wrote under the patchwork of glow-in-the-dark stars of his bedroom the first night he heard Taehyung singing on the roof before he even knew who Taehyung was. He doesn't clean it up. Just sends it off and forgets to check until that night, when he's eating dinner with Hoseok, and a message from Taehyung comes in while they're in the living room watching a drama.

Do you remember the night of that party, Taehyung has written, and Yoongi sets down his bowl and leans in close to read, when I was telling you about that one painting? The one at night with fireworks? The one that reminded me of you?

Nostalgic, Taehyung had called it. Nostalgic and delicate and beautiful.

(Yoongi has a picture of the painting saved on his phone, along with all the others Taehyung has mentioned to him in passing. Of course he remembers it. How could he forget a painting like that.)

This it it hyung, Taehyung writes before Yoongi has a chance to respond. This is it.

Hoseok looks hesitant when he asks if Yoongi's okay; but Yoongi just nods, tells Hoseok that he needs to finish a song, and picks up his noodles to take to his room.

~~~

"This is it, Yoongi-ah," Dr. Lim says after listening to the song for the second time through. It's their one-on-one session. The windows to the practice room are open to let in the early morning air, warmer, now that summer has snuck up on them, and Yoongi can hear the chatter of students from the courtyard and distance sounds of the city waking up.

Dr. Lim laces her fingers together against her lap and tells him again, "This is it. It's wonderful."

It's only one song, Yoongi writes to her, and she shakes her head and says in that all-knowing voice, "It only takes one song."

She looks at him for a while after that, in the same intentional way that Namjoon looks at him sometimes. Like she's searching. Reading. Turning over her thoughts and words before she releases them into the world.

"It sounds like a love song," she finally settles on, her eyes looking through him, and Yoongi smiles and shakes his head.

No, he writes. But it is a song about love.

By the time he leaves the studio that night, the sun has descended into a melted sherbet sky. Yoongi stops and sits on a park-bench to watch for a long while. He texts Taehyung. A minute after that calls him. It's early morning in New York, and neither of them have anything to say, but it's nice, to close his eyes and listen to Taehyung breathe for the next handful of minutes before it's time for Taehyung to get up to get ready for class.

"Love you, hyung," Taehyung grouses out between yawns, and Yoongi mouths back I love you, I love you, I miss you.

He sends back a single yellow heart.

~~~

"You seem happy," Jin states one moonless evening while they eat cold noodles on the porch of a small shop a few blocks from the cafe.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and finishes slurping before mouthing, You seem surprised.

"Not that I thought you'd fall apart once Taehyung left, but I kind of expected..." Seokjin makes vague, non-committal hand gestures. "Less smiling?"

Want me to smile less?

"Of course not," Seokjin scoffs. "I love your lil' gummy gremlin grin. You're the light of my life, Yoongichi."

Yoongi's face drops as he studies Seokjin, curled up small across the bench from him. His fingers are tapping out disjointed beats of six against his soju bottle. It's his second one within the hour.

Yoongi raps his knuckles against the tabletop. Jin hums without quite looking at him, his eyes set on something past Yoongi's shoulder, and Yoongi taps the table again to get his attention. Do you want to talk about anything?

Yoongi isn't as twitchy about the idea of conversation as he was all those months ago, but Seokjin looks about ready to crawl out of his skin as he uncrosses his legs just to wrap his arms around his stomach, cradling himself, like he needs to be held but doesn't know how to ask. Which he doesn't. He never has. He keeps chewing on the inside of his cheek instead.

"I went on a date," he finally says, and Yoongi's not sure why he says it that way, like he's revealing he has a terminal illness and he needs Yoongi's help to find a lawyer to write the will.

With the hotel guy? Yoongi asks.

"No. I mean yes. I went out with him last week. This was a different guy," Seokjin says. "A producer."

Yoongi's still not following. Did he give you a part in a film?

"He wishes."

Yoongi doesn't say anything more. Yoongi doesn't move. He just waits there, knees pulled up to his chest, waiting for Seokjin to stop looking as if he may just dissolve in his seat right here in this noodle shop.

"I've gone on twenty-two dates this year, Yoongi," Seokjin says slow. "All with different people."

That's okay, Yoongi mouths. It's just a number.

"A staggering number for mid-June, I must say."

Yoongi twists his fingers in his lap. A screaming silence falls upon them, and Yoongi can't remember the last time he felt this unsure around Seokjin. Seokjin looks half-near hysteria. Seokjin's spiraling, and Yoongi doesn't know how to stop the fall.

"How'd you do it?"

Seokjin has his the heels of his hands smashed into his hands, but he peeks up to catch Yoongi mouthing, Do what?

"Meet someone like Taehyung-ah?"

Yoongi frowns. He doesn't argue about what Seokjin is insinuating. Instead he just signs, Fate. Luck. I think some credit has to go to you for hiring him.

"I'm... I am experiencing a feeling, Yoongi."

Okay.

"Two feelings, actually."

Yoongi waits a breath longer, and Seokjin lowers his head and says, "For two people. And I don't know how to make them stop."

Yoongi thinks of those couple months ago, when they sat at a stall in a similar restaurant. When Yoongi spread out all his worries, one of which was Jungkook, and Seokjin had spoken so clearly, like it was coming deep from a place Yoongi wouldn't be able to reach.

"So I keep going on dates," Seokjin says, voice rising from his chest, "because I need the feelings to stop, but then half-way through each date, I realize I've picked out another blubbering asshole, on purpose, because maybe I don't want the feelings to stop. Because maybe liking these two really wonderful, beautiful people and not having them like me back is still better than being with someone else."

Yoongi pinches his lips together, and when he knocks on the table twice and Seokjin still hasn't raised his head, Yoongi lifts up to lean over and stroke the back of his neck. Seokjin startles under his touch, but then settles as Yoongi runs his fingers through the tangle of long hair there.

Minutes pass. Yoongi's lower back starts to ache. Twice he turns away the waitress hovering nearby with Seokjin's order of alcohol. By the time sweat starts to build on his brow, Seokjin is sighing, and Yoongi falls back into his seat as Seokjin shakes out his arms and shoulders, like he's trying to brush off the past half hour.

Too bad.

Yoongi catches his gaze and mouths, Have you talked to these people?

Seokjin snorts and wipes his nose. He scowls down at his hand. "Can't. Not happening. All risk and no reward. Never go gambling, Yoongi, you'll lose your shirt."

Hyung.

Seokjin crosses his arms again. "I can't, I can't. I won't. I won't do that to them. To us."

Yoongi breathes deep, and with his heart heavy behind his ribs, mouths, Are we talking about Hoseok and Namjoon, hyung?

Seokjin sucks in a breath. He opens his mouth but the words must fall away because he just closes it instead. He repeats the action again and again, like he can't quite find the will to lie. Finally, after the waitress from before has brought them refills, he says, "I didn't say anything, you did."

Yoongi nods. How long?

"A year now," Seokjin takes a shot. "Maybe longer."

Yoongi nods again and Seokjin drinks again and again and again. His hair clings to his forehead. The back of Yoongi's thighs and neck are damp. Summer's going to hit them hard this year.

"Both of them. Fucking..." Seokjin slams down his glass, startling a couple feeding each other nearby. When Seokjin is serious, you listen to him. So Yoongi listens now, as Seokjin dips his head back into his palms. "If it was only one then that would be easier because there's absolutely no chance of that happening. I would never get in between them. They're so good for each other. I would never ruin that. But it's both, Yoongi," Seokjin almost seethes, this manic gleam in his eyes as he rubs his hands over his face and slumps forward. "And if it's both then that means if I could get the two of them to just say yes, to me—Shit."

Yoongi taps the table and Seokjin shakes his head. His shoulders shudder. "No! I fucking hate crying and you know that! Shit!"

A tear rolls down his cheek and then the flood happens. Seokjin's body heaves, and Yoongi's on his feet, afraid that he might have to get a trashcan because at this rate Seokjin's going to make himself hurl; but Seokjin just releases a tiny shriek and then withers, bent over his thighs, forehead pressed to his knees, and cries.

Yoongi walks around the table and squishes into the seat next to him. Holds his phone out where Seokjin can read it.

You need to talk to them.

"No," Seokjin warbles. "No, Yoongi. No."

Yoongi types out, This is eating you up—

"No." Seokjin keeps his head lowered, but his voice is shrill. "I won't lose them. I won't mess this family up."

Even if they said no, Yoongi writes and shoves the phone back under Seokjin's face, do you really think they'd start treating you any different?

"Don't use logic on me, Yoongi." Seokjin takes a few gulps to steady himself. "I am not a creature of this earth. Mortal rules do not apply to me."

They wouldn't, Yoongi presses. You know they wouldn't. You'll still be our big brother.

"How dare you pull the big brother card."

Yoongi rests a hand on his back, rubs along Seokjin's spine as he writes. Talk to them, Jin. You need to talk to them. Trust me on this.

"Do they secretly love me or something? Do you have some insider scoop?"

No. Seokjin goes lax under his touch, and Yoongi continues to work his way up to the base of shoulders, all the way down to his hips, following the gentle curve there. But I can tell you that this small pain is going to grow into a big pain which is going to become an unbearable pain, and I don't want you to have to live with that. It hurts, to carry that around. It hurts, hyung.

Seokjin sniffs. Tilts his head to look up at Yoongi from under his bangs. His eyes are dark and shiny and rimmed with red. Yoongi drags a hand over his cheek, wiping away some of the snot and tear-tracks there.

Talk to them, he mouths, and Seokjin rolls his eyes. Yoongi's mouth tugs a little.

"I'll try," Seokjin says, voice still thick with emotion. "For you, I'll try."

Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself. You deserve it. You deserve to be happy, hyung.

"Wow. Therapy's really paying off, isn't it?"

Yoongi smacks his shoulder and bites back a grin. Yeah, he mouths. It is.

When Yoongi gets back to the apartment, Hoseok is still up. A reality show is playing on mute in the background as Hoseok types furiously into his phone from his balled up position in the armchair.

Yoongi frowns and steps into the room, waving his hand, dragging Hoseok's attention away from his screen as he moves closer to be seen.

Hey. You're here. Hoseok goes back to typing. Sends something off with a flourish. Looks back to Yoongi with calculating eyes. You were with Jin-hyung, right?

Yoongi's brow lifts. Yeah? Why?

Joon's been texting me. Said Jin-hyung got home and looked like he'd been dragged by a bus but wouldn't talk about it.

Yoongi's brain stalls. He bobs his head. That sounds about right. We had a long chat.

That made him cry?

Yup.

Well shit. Hoseok's face looks so attentive and determined it might actually be painful. He takes a deep breath. His shoulders lift, fall. Shit, he mouths again, as if to himself.

To an outsider, being around Hoseok is like jumping feet first into the face of the sun. Willingly. But Yoongi knows better, and there's something kind of reassuring about the way that Hoseok takes things so seriously. Takes people so seriously.

Is he okay? Hoseok signs. Safe?

Yoongi nods, several times, and Hoseok sighs and tugs on his bangs that he's swept into a small pony over his forehead. His face is twisted with bewilderment, and Yoongi feels a familiar tug on his stomach at the look.

He waves his hand to get Hoseok's attention. Signs, Are you okay?

Hoseok's mouth flattens. Yeah. I'm great. Why?

You can talk to me, Yoongi signs slow, trying to emphasize his words. About anything. You know that, right?

Hoseok frowns and rocks forward onto his knees so that he can kiss Yoongi's temple. When he falls back to his seat, he mouths, Yeah, I know, hyung.

Okay.

Is this about Jin-hyung? Hoseok asks, his eyes and mouth pinching together again into that expression that hurts to look at. Are you sure he's okay?

Yoongi looks down at his hands, twisting them around as if he's sorting through his words, trying to pick out the best ones to share. He's just been going through a lot, he finally signs, and I think he's been going through it alone.

Hoseok's frown deepens. He almost looks offended. Well he has you and me and Joon and the others. Maybe we just need to show it more.

Yoongi looks at Hoseok. His soft, downturned eyes. His oversized tee. The worry there that makes his face crumple so that his dimples keep flickering. It's hard to picture this Hoseok as the same Hoseok who threatened to throw away Yoongi's shoes their first week living in the apartment together because Yoongi wouldn't keep them on the rack, or the Hoseok who was born to be under a spotlight, all sharp angles and smooth lines and this sexy, lazy, enviable grace.

I love you, Yoongi mouths, signs at the same time.

Hoseok visibly recoils, a tiny noise of surprise slipping out. Wow. Taehyung's a really good influence on you, you know that?

Yoongi forces himself to scowl so that he doesn't grin. Don't ruin this.

Hoseok laughs, bright and bleating, and stands up to throw his arms around Yoongi's shoulders. "Love ya," he whispers right below Yoongi's ear, soft as can be, lips pressed to the edge of his jaw.

It's not a kiss, although Hoseok loves kisses; it's just the two of them coming back to each other, being near, trying to say all the things that neither of them can ever quite find the right words for.

~~~

🌑 [11:16pm]

Hoseok says you're a good influence on me.

⭐ [11:20pm]

i def am. but that's funny

🌑 [11:21pm]

Why?

⭐ [11:21pm]

Jimin said the same thing about u to me

~~~

Yoongi's not sure if the three of them end up speaking with each other, but three days later when they're at the broadcasting station for a show, Namjoon misses his cue twice and bites a pen so hard it smears ink across his face.

He spits most of it out. Yoongi has him gargle and brush his teeth and gets him cleaned up (they always have baby wipes on hand, although usually it's for spilled drinks) all within the two minutes and forty-three seconds remaining of the current track, and the show continues on with none of their listeners the wiser to the fact that their favorite TA and resident DJ currently looks like zombie risen from the earth.

Hoseok isn't much better off. He gets back late that night, still in his damp clothes even though his practice should have ended hours ago. Yoongi asks if he's eaten, if he wants to do facemasks, and Hoseok just hums and locks himself in the bathroom.

The shower runs, but Yoongi can still hear Hoseok's tinny cries over the sound of the water, so he turns the television up louder and doesn't say anything when Hoseok comes out red-faced and bleary-eyed and heads right for his room without a sound.

~~~

"Did something happen?" Jungkook whispers low a couple days later when the group of them are at the cafe. They've been here an hour, all immersed in their own projects. Jungkook doesn't have any classes and has been casually sketching dogs that pass by the window beside their table, but Hoseok and Yoongi's grad programs run through the summer, and they've had a constant slew of readings and questionnaires to finish between their actual meetings and practices.

(Yoongi's in a particularly grueling back-and-forth with Dr. Lim right now. He's finished three songs and has four more to go, and she says that if he wants to graduate on time this fall, he has to keep this momentum going.)

(Yoongi's not sure how to explain that he has hundreds of songs written already, but there's a reason why this particular handful is running him into the dirt.)

Jungkook prods his side, but Yoongi's not sure what to say next. Denying the claim would be great, but anyone who understands their group a fraction of the way Jungkook does would know there's something off-kilter. One wrong breath and everything is just going to collapse in on itself. A punctured lung, Jimin mentioned the other day while Yoongi helped him with his flashcards. Air pressure that prevents the lung tissue from expanding until everything just shuts down. Until you choke. Until you die.

Yoongi looks over the table at Hoseok. Hoseok, who has been curled over a textbook for the better part of forty minutes. Hoseok, who has no spoken, attempted eye-contact, or laughed at Seokjin once since they walked in. It's practically blasphemy.

Over at the counter Seojkin stands, wiping down a machine, and he catches Yoongi watching and gives him this sad, gentle look and that's what really does Yoongi in. That Seokjin isn't in a frenzy or riled up or angry. He's just sad. And whatever happened or didn't happen between him and Hoseok and Namjoon, that's all Yoongi's fault.

Jungkook doesn't need to know the details, though. Jungkook has enough to mull over right now. So Yoongi grabs his stylus and scribbles out beside a doodle of a corgi, It's fine. They're working through it.

Jungkook isn't appeased, and Yoongi knows he's being horrible, leaving Jungkook in the dark; but if Hoseok won't talk to Yoongi about this, then they certainly don't need to drag another body into into the carnage waiting to spill over.

Jungkook taps his wrist. He's written a question. How's Taehyung?

Good, Yoongi writes back, confused. Do you miss him?

Jungkook's nose scrunches, and he's about to clap back something when the door jingles and Namjoon walks in, stumbles, really, and his laugh catches on his tongue the moment he looks up and meets Seokjin's eye behind the register.

Seokjin tenses, gripping the towel in his hands tight. He says something to Jimin, and just as Namjoon approaches the counter with a hand raised in greeting, Seokjin's ducking away to head towards the kitchen. Jimin blinks, watching him go, then shuffles over to take Namjoon's order instead.

Jungkook's pressing in close, vying for Yoongi's attention, but Yoongi can only watch in slow-building horror as Jimin finishes the drink quick, just an iced americano, and Namjoon turns towards their table to find Hoseok watching him.

There's a long moment of uncomfortable silence where neither of them moves, and Yoongi feels it like a kick to the knees when Namjoon takes a tentative step towards them and Hoseok, small as can be, shakes his head and turns away.

Namjoon, without a word to any of them, clutches the strap of his bag and exits the cafe.

Yoongi's scrambling out of his seat, practically vaulting Jungkook to get off the sofa, and Hoseok makes a squawking sound and Jimin's calling his name and Yoongi doesn't do anything but run, right out the door, dancing around a group of girls taking a selfie by the flowers outside. He flings forward in a burst of energy, and before Namjoon has even made it to the next crosswalk, Yoongi has his elbow in hand.

Namjoon shouts and miraculously keeps a hold of his drink. His fist drops, when he sees that it's Yoongi and not some kind of dauntless, day-time mugger tugging him to the side out of the way of foot-traffic. Yoongi wonders if he'd actually throw a punch. Namjoon's got them all beat in height, but it was Hoseok who laid out that senior his sophomore year, the one who kept calling Yoongi slurs behind his back.

"Hyung, can you let go of my arm? I'm not going to run away."

Yoongi's hand slips down to Namjoon's wrist. He loosely grasps there. Squeezes. When he pulls away completely, Namjoon just stands there, shoulders slumped, like he's waiting for Yoongi to deliver the final blow that will scatter all his broken pieces across the sidewalk and into a nearby storm drain.

What's going on? Yoongi finally signs.

Namjoon's voice is low when he says, "God, I wish I knew."

Yoongi swallows, absorbing this, spreading his fingers wide across his thighs and then digging in until he can feel each individual prick of his nails.

This is your fault, his mind whispers. Your fault, your fault. You've ruined the people you love again.

Namjoon misreads his silence. He sighs again, big and loud and lonely. "Jin-hyung's been having a difficult time. About what, I'm not quite sure, because Jin-hyung's just like that. He keeps those kinds of thoughts to himself. Hoseok was also worried, so me, being a person of reasonable understanding who adores open forms of communication, thought it would be an excellent idea to talk about those feelings together, right up until the moment that Hoseok confessed he's had feelings for Jin-hyung for almost a year now, and Jin-hyung said, and I quote, 'I don't want to be with you like that'. So, yes, hyung, if you could please tell me why all of the most important people in my life are abandoning me again, I'd love to hear the answer, because I have no idea what the fuck is happening and no one will speak to me."

Namjoon's voice is as flat as when he started, but his eyes are wide, almost wild, when he looks down at Yoongi. He looks angry enough to cry. Belatedly, Yoongi realizes, it looks as if he already has.

Your fault, his head hisses. It's all your fault. You've ruined them. You ruin everyone.

"What—Hyung, stop it, I don't want to go back there. Hyung!"

Yoongi just squares his hands on Namjoon's shoulders and shoves, and he keeps shoving until they're both barrelling through the cafe entrance, so swift the door racks against the wall and the bell threatens to fall with the force of its rattling.

"Yoongi, what're you—"

Yoongi pushes and pushes and pushes until Namjoon's standing in the kitchen in the back of the store where a shaken Seokjin is currently standing over a batch of poppy-seed muffins, staring at them both like he just got kneed in the gut.

Yoongi leaves them there and returns to the front. The customers from before have trickled out, the last of the lunch rush, and the only bodies that remain are that of Jimin, who is currently waiting off to the side with slitted eyes and a wooden spoon in hand, like he might be asked to fight someone, and Jungkook and Hoseok, both of whom are sitting in the same positions Yoongi left them in.

They watch in silence as Yoongi approaches Hoseok, now standing, looking guilty and bewildered and pale in the face.

Yoongi points at Hoseok, then over his shoulder.

No, Hoseok mouths, shaking his head, and Yoongi takes a step forward. Jabs again. No. I fucked up. I'm not—No.

Hoseok, Yoongi mouths. Go talk to them.

Hoseok shakes his head. His face is red now from the effort of holding back tears. You weren't there, you don't know anything—

I know plenty, Yoongi signs, cutting him off, and he has this fuzzed over feeling in his brain. Like someone is moving his hands for him. More than you probably. Now go back there and talk this out before you lose two people you love.

Hoseok just keeps shaking his head. His body makes this sob noise, and he must be able to feel it because he shoves a fist over his mouth.

It'll be okay. Hobi, it'll be okay.

He hates me, Hoseok signs, his breathing coming out thick. They both hate me.

They don't. None of us do.

Namjoon's going to break up with me.

Yoongi steps forward to take his face in his hands. When Hoseok looks at him, the tears spill over. Hoseok blinks rapidly, trying to hold them back. He's not, Yoongi mouths. He's just confused. I think so is Jin-hyung. Please, Hoseok. Go back there. Talk. Listen.

Hoseok presses down on his lips. Hiccups. Yoongi pulls him into a quick hug, then guides him by the hand to the kitchen door. He taps Hoseok's wrist three times in quick succession, and Hoseok throws his shoulders back and pushes through the door without a glance behind him.

Yoongi leaves before he can overhear the conversation taking place, but Jimin grips his arm as he's passing by to hold him back. "That was really intense," he says, gaze darting around. "Everything okay?"

Yoongi pulls his hand back to sign, It will be.

Jimin looks hesitant, and then he looks worried, and then he has Yoongi's face between his hands and is whispering low, "Yoongi, are you having an episode?"

That's ridiculous. Of course he's not. Sure, the air feels so heavy it might just swallow him whole and there's this black sludge roiling around, eating away at his insides, but he's not having a flashback or anything. He's just tired. Too tired to keep up with everything that just happened. Too tired for anything, really. Yoongi just wants to lay down.

When Yoongi blinks, he's sitting on the frumpy red sofa in the back of the shop, the one tucked in so far it's difficult to reach so most people avoid it. Yoongi blinks, and he looks over and Jungkook is watching him, his dark eyes concerned and desperate as they rove Yoongi's face.

Yoongi blinks. Wiggles his fingers, then his toes. He blinks, and Jungkook's eyebrows even out. The divot there melts away.

"Hyung," Jungkook says aloud, and Yoongi reaches up to cup his ears, suctioning them the way he does when he gets out of the bath and everything sounds wrinkled. That's how Jungkook sounds right now. Like Yoongi might be listening to him underwater.

"Hyung," Jungkook calls again, and Yoongi nods. He thinks he nods. His mouth won't move. His lips are numb.

Dissolving. Crumpling. Yoongi's hands twist in his lap and he squeezes until the taut skin on his knuckles feels as if it's going to split.

Time passes. Yoongi's aware that time passes. The song overhead, although warbly, shifts in tone once. Twice. Three times. There's movement at the counter, these blurred over shapes jostling amongst each other. Yoongi's chest rises and falls despite not having any more internal organs. He thinks the sludge got to them all.

The next time Yoongi blinks, there's this low rumbling in his ear. Dark. Gravelly at the corners. A weight on the back of his neck. Warm. Yoongi's body unfurls and it's a wonder his bones don't creak with the effort.

The rumbling smooths over into something less clumpy. Whale song.

(The last time he was at Namjoon's, they put on this vinyl album of humpback whale songs from the seventies that Namjoon found in an old thrift store, and they just laid in the center of the living room in silence until Seokjin got home, took one look at them, and quietly joined them on the floor for a few minutes. It was nice. It was pretty perfect, actually.)

Namjoon.

Yoongi looks over and the pressure on his neck shifts. A mouth brushes along his cheek, right up the edge of his jaw into his hairline, and Yoongi blinks again and Namjoon is pulling away from him.

It smells like hazelnut creamer and lemon cake and pine trees and sweat. The song playing overhead is one Yoongi added to the playlist last week. Slightly eerie and shimmery at the corners, not quite acoustic but not fully built out either. Yoongi's legs are damp where they've been pinched together, and he loosens his abdominal muscles and then his back and suddenly Yoongi's spine is made of sponge and he slumps to the side, right into Namjoon's chest.

"Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi's hands are ten times too big, but he manages to tap Namjoon's bare thigh once.

"Hyung, can you sign for me? Tap once for yes, twice for no." Yoongi taps twice. "Hyung, are you okay with me touching you?" One tap this time. Yoongi likes the touch. Namjoon's hand on his neck is the only thing keeping him from drifting away again.

There are voices nearby, and Yoongi realizes he's closed his eyes again. He opens them to find Jungkook at his side, hands to himself, while Seokjin and Hoseok have pulled up chairs to sit nearby. They stop chattering when Yoongi finds their faces.

Namjoon is talking, but not to them. To someone on a phone.

"Got it," he says, then to Yoongi, "Hyung, can you hear me?" One tap. "I'm on the phone with Taehyung. I gave him your symptoms. He says you might be dissociating. Have you ever had a dissociative episode before?"

Huh. That doesn't sound right.

Yoongi taps twice.

"He says no," Namjoon relays, and Yoongi suddenly feels very sticky. He peels himself off Namjoon's chest, and Namjoon's hand drags down the back of his spine. It doesn't feel nice anymore, so he shifts further away. Except Jungkook is there, waiting, watching him like he's about to break. That's not nice. None of this is nice.

"Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon calls out, and Yoongi fwips around. He still has the phone pressed to his ear. "Do you want to go outside?"

Outside. Outside is open. Outside is hot. Outside will make him stickier.

Yoongi shakes his head.

Namjoon tells his phone, "He said no. Uhm, okay. Yoongi-hyung." Yoongi looks away from the back wall. Why was he staring at the back wall? There's nothing there but a few botanical prints. When did he stand up? Is he standing? He can't find his legs. "Can you tell me how many yellow items in the room you see?"

Yellow? Yellow. Yoongi shifts around. Yellow. A fringed pillow. A jar of flowers, but not the flowers themselves. The juices in the display case, but they might be more orange. The linen dress of a woman at the counter. Jimin's hair, pale blond, now that he's quit using his pink shampoo. A stool. A second stool. Not the third. The third is blue. A velvet armchair near the front entrance. Lemons in a bowl. Does he count them all?

Sixteen, Yoongi signs after deciding the lemons can be grouped together, and there's a collective sigh from around their hodge-podge circle when Yoongi spins full around to face them. Sixteen yellow items.

"Tae, I think he's back," Namjoon says into his receiver. "Do you want to talk to him? Okay. Okay, I'll tell him. Yeah, good night."

Namjoon hangs up after that and Yoongi stands there feeling like a crumpled sack as everyone stares at him.

"Tae said to call him later, no rush, just whenever you feel better." Namjoon sucks on his cheek. He wants to say more, Yoongi knows he does, but he doesn't want to draw any more attention to what just happened than he needs to.

Yoongi's heart flushes. It's okay, he signs. You can talk here. I'm okay.

And he is. Or he will be. It's not like it matters. Their little group has seen him through worse, more embarrassing moments. Zoning out a bit is nothing compared to those first few months.

"He said you should probably move up your next therapy appointment," Namjoon says, his voice still a lullaby in Yoongi's brain. "He's not a professional, but he said something probably triggered you just now and it might be good to get ahead of it while it's fresh."

Okay, Yoongi mouths, looking back over his shoulder to the bowl of lemons. Okay.

So Yoongi moves his appointment up a week, and he recounts as much of the event as he can, and Dr. Choi listens to him with with this unguarded expression the whole time, and then she neatly says, with her mouth and her hands, "You had a dissociative episode triggered by an external factor, Yoongi."

They talked about this in the beginning. How Yoongi would like everything to be simply stated. No extended metaphors, no colorful expressions. (He gets enough of those from Namjoon.) Here, he just wants everything to be clean and easy. The exact opposite of his head.

Yoongi's mouth parts. He nods. Okay.

"You said your friend is the one who mentioned that might have been the case?"

Yes, Yoongi signs. The special one. He's a psych major.

Dr. Choi smiles at the word "special". Special, as in beautiful. Special, as in sparkling and gleaming and warm. Special, as in Yoongi still isn't sure what they are and he might never be able to find a word to describe it when he does.

"He did an excellent job as a student, noticing your symptoms. Namjoon-ssi, as well." Yoongi nods along. "You say he's the one who always helps the most during flashbacks, right?"

Yes, he signs.

Dr. Choi looks at him, her eyes clear. She cut her hair again recently. Straight angles, right at her chin. It contrasts sharply with the round features of her face but Yoongi likes that, the contradiction.

"Dissociation is actually common in trauma victims," she says, signs. "You go through it partially when you have your flashbacks. Sometimes our bodies and our heads feel like they need to protect us from something, so they disconnect us as a measure to get us away from whatever is making us feel unsafe or out of control."

Yoongi nods appreciatively. His back hurts, and he realizes that his shoulders are bunched up, like he's waiting flow a blow to come, but when he tries to lower them his blood spikes, this flare of fear in his throat that makes him curl in again.

If Dr. Choi notices that he's fidgeting, is one breath away from rolling into a ball in her armchair, she doesn't comment. "Episodes are different to everyone," she says, her voice taking on a lilting tone. "But most commonly people feel like they're in a dream, almost. You're aware of your surroundings but unable to interact with them. Time passes but you don't remember what happened during it. Overstimulation and understimulation may occur. Does any of this sound right?"

Yoongi, to his thighs, signs, Yes.

A heartbeat of silence, then, "This is normal for people who have gone through what you have, Yoongi. I know you hate to hear me say that, but this isn't a setback. Can you tell me what happened just before the episode occurred?"

So Yoongi tells her. About the evening with Jin. His breakdown. How Yoongi encouraged him to address his feelings before they became too unbearable to handle. How something happened, Yoongi doesn't know what, but there was a fight. It was all messed up. But he got them together. He got them to talk. He thinks they worked it out, but he's not certain.

"So you gave advice and you feel like it backfired, so then you inserted yourself into the situation to try to mend it?"

Yoongi's face scrunches. It did backfire. They were all— He cuts off his hands. Tugs them in close to his chest.

"All what, Yoongi?"

Acid. Acid, spreading spreading, clumping away inside, eating away at him. They were all broken, Yoongi signs, looking at a chip in the wooden floor beneath his feet. They were all broken and it was all my fault. I broke them. Again. I just keep breaking them.

"Yoongi."

Can we talk about something else, Yoongi signs. He doesn't cry, but that might be because there's this glob wedged in his windpipe that's making it hard to breathe. I would like to talk about something else.

Dr. Choi looks at him, really looks at him, and then says gently, "Okay, Yoongi. Okay. Why don't we talk about Taehyung?"

~~~

🌑 [9:08pm]

Talked to my therapist. She said it was dissociation.

Said it's common with people with PTSD.

⭐ [9:09pm]

Want me to call?

🌑 [11:21pm]

I don't know.

I feel like I take a step forward and then something just shoves me back on my ass.

[INCOMING CALL FROM ⭐]

[CALL ACCEPTED]

~~~

Jungkook gets a summer job at a rec center. He's legally not a licensed lifeguard anymore (too much liability), but he splits his hours between the weight rooms and the front desk. They're all surprised when he tells them, everyone but Jimin it seems, who later reveals to Yoongi that he's been encouraging Jungkook to get back to some of the hobbies he left behind after the accident. Next on his list are the monthly karaoke nights at the cafe, and Yoongi nearly hugs him then and there on the street corner.

Things with Jungkook have been wobbly at best and non-existent at worst. Seokjin says he just needs space, but when Yoongi asks space from what, Seokjin just looks at him for a long moment and then offers to cook him ramen.

His episode seems to have shaken something stagnant up, though, because Jungkook spends the night at their apartment twice that week. He comes back from his shift always smelling of chlorine (his own workout requires a mix of lifting and cardio, and Jungkook's been favoring the pool over the treadmill), and Yoongi will wrinkle his nose and ask why he's not cleaning up or sleeping at the dorms and Jungkook will just press their cheeks together and then skip off with a cackle and use up all the hot water.

The third night Jungkok shows, Jimin invites himself over under the pretense that his place is too quiet even though he's subleasing for the summer to a friend of his in the nursing department who has a preference for playing alternative rock while he studies.

(The three of them sleep in Yoongi's bed together, even though Hoseok has a queen, and Yoongi wakes in the morning to Jimin gnawing on his shoulder in his sleep and a mouthful of Jungkook's hair.)

On the fourth, Namjoon and Seokjin just walk in unannounced, bearing gifts of fried chicken and cheap beer. It's an unexpected visit, going off Hoseok's twisted triangle face, but Yoongi watches from the living room as their bodies fold around each other easily; Namjoon unboxing and unloading the bags, Seokjin calling out for orders and plating as they come in, Hoseok following up behind them, wiping down counters and crumpling up trash.

(Hoseok still hasn't spoken to Yoongi about what happened, or maybe what is happening between the three of them; but if Hoseok feeding Seokjin pieces of his drumstick and then leaning over to wipe sweet and sour sauce off Namjoon's chin is any indicator of where they're at, Yoongi thinks they'll be okay.)

Namjoon goes to Hoseok's room that night. Jimin takes the floor and Seokjin the sofa. When Yoongi comes back to his own room after getting washed up, Jungkook has already curled up under the duvet without asking. Not that Yoongi would have said no, but they're trying to train Jungkook to use his words (in all their forms), instead of just taking what he wants, or not taking anything at all.

Yoongi doesn't comment though. He just toes off his slippers and crawls in on top of the comforter because it's July now, and simply being in the same room as someone is enough to get him sweating.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi swats his hands around until he finds the bare skin of Jungkook's arm. His inner elbow, most likely. He taps once.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook whispers. It comes out a little slurred, like it usually does, when Jungkook is trying to control is pronunciation and his volume. Like he has to sacrifice one for the other.

Another single tap. Jungkook sighs. Yoongi drags his finger down, writes into the warmth of Jungkook's inner arm, You okay?

"Yeah."

But Jungkook's not okay, and he hasn't been okay for a long time, and Yoongi is so tired of running away from that but he's terrified of what will happen if he steps in again. Yoongi can't repeat last Tuesday. His heart might not make it this time.

Jungkook shifts. He smells like Hoseok's body wash and Yoongi's shampoo. Citrus mixed with cedarwood and something muskier, something boy-ish. Something that might just be Jungkook.

Seokjin is Seokjin. He might be walking a similar path to Jungkook, but they're separate people. Their emotional thresholds are near opposites. Their manners of self-expression only overlap on occasion, and that's when they're with each other, building off the other's actions.

Seokjin is Seokjin, and Jungkook is Jungkook, and right now Jungkook needs to talk to someone.

Yoongi rolls over Jungkook to grab his phone off the dresser, and then he tumbles back with a huff as Jungkook shifts with his movements. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare, and Yoongi lowers his brightness and turns on his blue light filter and types out a quick, Talk to me Kook.

Jungkook squints when Yoongi flips his screen around. His eyes spark as he scrunches up his nose, but those are the only bits of his expression Yoongi can make out in the shadows of the room. They could flip a light on, but the dark feels safer. More promising.

Jungkook takes the phone from him and types out, I think I'm sad. Yoongi nods for him to continue. And maybe angry. It's like I spent all this time thinking I had to stop doing all these things I loved, and now that I realize I can do them, other people are trying to stop me. It's frustrating.

Jungkook's jaw is clenched and his eyes are somber. He sucks in a breath and lets it out just as quick.

I want to sing again, he types quick, and Yoongi curls in closer to him to read over his arm as he writes. I want to swim. I want to watch movies without subtitles. I want people to stop touching me to get my attention. I'm so anxious ALL THE TIME.

This is followed by a stream of emojis, only some of them resembling anger. Yoongi bites his tongue when he spots a clown and a little grey haired grandma.

Jimin's been helping. Jimin is ... Jungkook's fingers still. Yoongi touches his wrist lightly, then reaches to push away the stray hair around Jungkook's face. It's getting long. Long enough that he'll tie it back sometimes when he draws.

I don't know, Jungkook finally settles on. I don't know, hyung. He gets it but he doesn't. Not really. Jungkook's eyes flutter under Yoongi's touch. And I tried to confess. To the person I like. It didn't go very well. I don't think they even knew I was asking. I think the simple idea of dating me was just too difficult for them to understand.

When Yoongi turns to look at him, Jungkook's face is just inches away. Planet sized brown eyes and this clouded over expression. Jungkook feels flushed, when Yoongi's fingers drag down the back of his neck, and Jungkook shifts and intakes a tiny breath when Yoongi tugs on his hair, trying to untangle some of the curls.

"I think they like someone else", Jungkook whispers a few minutes later, when Yoongi thought he had fallen asleep. Instead he opens his eyes, says softly, "I don't think I stand a chance."

Yoongi pulls his hand back to pick up his phone where it fell on the bed. He types out a message, flips it to show Jungkook.

Do you love them? If you love them, you should let them know. Clearly, this time, so they understand.

What if I mess things up? Jungkook writes back, then frowns and says aloud, "Why are you laughing?"

Yoongi squelches his smile. That's what Jin said to me, he writes.

And didn't he mess things up? Jungkook types, his eyes tight at the corners. With the hyungs? He stayed with Jimin for a couple nights. I thought he was going to move out of his and Joon-hyung's place.

Huh. A secret Yoongi didn't know.

Yoongi presses his chin to his chest. He taps the pads of his fingers along the edge of his phone. He can feel Jungkook watching him.

Well, they worked it out, Yoongi finally writes out.

After you dragged them all together.

Well I was the one who fucked them up to start with.

A worried look takes over Jungkook's face. It makes Yoongi's stomach churn, but before he can speak, Jungkook says in a low, intense voice, "What if I fuck up?"

With the person? Yoongi writes.

With everything, Jungkook types back. But yeah. With the person.

Do you love them?

Jungkook's fingers dance over the back of Yoongi's hand, a gossamer touch. He slowly traces soft patterns there. He whispers, "yeah."

Do they love you? Yoongi asks, and writes more before Jungkook can respond. Not romantically. But just. You. Who you are now, in all your forms. Do they want to see you happy and healthy and learning and succeeding?

It takes several heartbeats for Jungkook to answer. "Yeah. They do."

Even if they say no, Yoongi writes as Jungkook continues to trace his skin, they're still going to love you. You don't have anything to worry about. Jungkook hums, soft and scared, and Yoongi wriggles forward so that their brows are pressed together. Jungkook shivers. It'll hurt for a little bit, it always does, but then you move forward and you find something better. Something you didn't even know you needed until it's standing there in front of you.

Jungkook's forehead is sticky, his breath too warm where it blows against Yoongi's cheeks, but Yoongi stays close as he writes out, You said you were angry that people have been trying to govern your life. Don't let this one person control you, either.

"Okay, hyung," Jungkook says, and then he leans down and presses his mouth to Yoongi's temple, almost kissing him, but not quite. "Good night."

They stay wound up together even though it's near sweltering, and in the morning Yoongi wakes to Jungkook's arms around his waist and Jimin's head on his chest and Seokjin, curled up on a mat at the foot of the bed and it's all a little disorienting, all just a little too right.

~~~

It's strange, how it happens. How this tender warmth spreads through Yoongi's chest and arms and toes, prickling along the back of his spine, like all the nerves in his body are saying look there, look there, look over there.

Taehyung is standing in the middle of the room, backpack slung across one shoulder, suitcase resting at his feet. Taehyung is standing in the middle of the room, and he is so absolutely, unremarkably the same Taehyung he's always been (from their video call three days ago and their last dinner date thirteen weeks ago and the first time they spoke eleven months ago) but still. Still he's completely different.

He hasn't caught sight of Yoongi yet, tucked into a back portion of the cafe, and Yoongi takes in his kind, open face. His skin is dark, his hair even darker. It falls in loose waves down his neck, a spill of black ink that Yoongi has this fluttering urge to run his hands through. Yoongi just wants to hold his hand, to feel that he's real. Because Taehyung wasn't coming home for another week but he's here, in Seokjin's cafe, now looking at Yoongi, right in the face.

There's this heartbeat where neither of them seems to know what to do. Taehyung's shoulders lift, fall, and then he breaks out into this ridiculous, hideously beautiful smile and Yoongi's on his feet. He rips off his headphones and scrambles over Hoseok's lap, tripping over a bag or a book or the leg of the table as all the love that's been swelling, spreading, stretching him apart these past few months thrashes to the surface.

They collide in the center of the shop. Taehyung's husky laughter fills the air. He spins Yoongi once, twice, then sets him on the floor, and Taehyung rests his chin on Yoongi's shoulder, nestling into the crook there, and begins to rock them back and forth and back.

"Hi, hyung," he whispers near Yoongi's ear, and Yoongi lifts his hand and taps the back of Taehyung's neck three times.

How are you?

I missed you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Taehyung leans back to look at him, his smile just as sweet as when he left, and he opens up his fingers. Yoongi twines their hands together immediately.

"Ahem. As wonderful as this moment is, Number One Best Friend would like to hug his soulmate please and thank you."

Yoongi flinches, falling hard back into the moment, but Taehyung doesn't quite let him go as he twists to look over towards where Jimin is standing with his hand on a cocked hip, a devious grin betraying just how much he's enjoying this.

Taehyung doesn't seem to have plans to let Yoongi go, so Jimin heaves a sigh and cuts in-between them, clinging to Taehyung's side and twining their legs together so he's forced to step back and release Yoongi unless they all want to eat the floor.

The cafe door rattles, and Yoongi looks up just in time to see Jungkook's back drifting past the window, out of sight.

Yoongi turns to Hoseok, searching, and as if sensing his stare, Hoseok swivels away from the door to Yoongi. He frowns, the lines of his face going flat, and shakes his head. Not like he doesn't know the answer, but like he doesn't want to tell Yoongi what it is.

There's a celebration dinner already planned. Apparently Taehyung let slip to everyone but Yoongi that he'd be getting in today, so the group is gathered that night for barbecue at the same place they went after the spring concert.

They're louder than that night due to the sheer amount of stories to be shared. Taehyung's classes and his kids and the baby squirrel he harbored in his dorm room for six days until its paw healed. Jimin talks about his temporary roommate and his unusual eating habits ("He would put jelly on everything, guys. He put jelly in his ramen." ), Hoseok about this dance instructor position he's interviewing for at a small entertainment company. Namjoon is in the middle of a re-telling about one of the stories they received at the station that was too inappropriate to share but left him and Yoongi winded on the floor when Seokjin reaches out to rub his thumb just below Namjoon's bottom lip where a swipe of sauce lingers.

Seokjin brings his finger back to his mouth to suck, and Namjoon just stares at him, this high-flush to his cheeks that isn't from the alcohol, before clearing his throat and going back to where he trailed off.

Taehyung leans into Yoongi's side. "Are they a thing now?"

Yoongi shrugs, grinning around the rim of his glass, and Taehyung swats his thigh. "I'll get the details from Jiminnie, then."

Yoongi doesn't tell him that Jimin probably knows about as much as Yoongi does, as they all do. But nobody says anything. They're just letting this ride out on its own.

Jungkook stays quiet most of the evening, pressed in close to the far wall with Jimin at his side. He watches hands but doesn't try to add to the conversation, and he'll try at a smile, every time Yoongi leans over to drop some beef on his plate, but it never quite makes his eyes crinkle.

They split ways much the same way as before. Namjoon's the drunk one tonight, and it takes both Seokjin and Hoseok tucked under his arms to hold him up and get his feet moving. He's saying something in English, ranting by the sounds of it, and Seokjin will intermittently interject with an accented "oh yes" or "that's right", and it'll make Hoseok cackle and just spur Namjoon on further.

Jimin's oddly sober as he takes Jungkook by the hand to lead him away, calling out good nights over his shoulder and sending Taehyung this suspicious brow raise as they go.

"Home?" Taehyung says, holding out his elbow, and Yoongi rolls his eyes and loops their arms together.

Silence settles over them, a comforting blanket, and Yoongi doesn't hesitate this time when they're outside his apartment. He just continues to move, Taehyung at his side as they shuffle up the four flights of steps to Yoongi's door.

Last time Taehyung was here they drank hot tea, Taehyung slipped on a set of Yoongi's pajamas, and then they talked until the early hours of the morning, for as long as Yoongi could manage before nodding off.

That was Taehyung four months ago, though. That was before the airport and the video calls and the songs. So many songs. Yoongi has five done, now. Taehyung has heard every one.

That was then, this is now. This is sun-burnished Taehyung, taller and fuller than when he left with still too many eyelashes. This is summer-stricken Taehyung and Yoongi's only ever known winter and it's odd, how his smile is the same but the way it reaches his eyes is now different.

"Hyung," Taehyung murmurs, and Yoongi realizes that he's been stroking the mole beneath Taehyung's eye with the pad of his thumb. He warms but doesn't break away; just drops his hand until he tugs on the mark hidden under Taehyung's bottom lip.

Kiss me, Yoongi mouths, and Taehyung's nose scrunches in confusion.

Yoongi presses his fingers together, raises them to the corner of his mouth, then presses them against his cheek.

Kiss, Yoongi mouths again, repeating the action, unsure of where this boldness is coming from but know that it feels natural. He signs evenly, Kiss me, Taehyung.

Taehyung's expression turns to amazement, but he doesn't hesitate to kiss the tip of Yoongi's nose, the tender skin of both eyelids, the tiny mole on Yoongi's right cheek. And then Taehyung holds his face in both hands and they stay there together for a moment, eye-to-eye, just looking at each other for a long time before Taehyung leans in to kiss him for real.

It's the kind of kissing they sink into fast. Yoongi lifts on his tiptoes so he can press in closer, harder, his hands drawn immediately into the hair at Taehyung's neck to tug him in farther. He pulls, hard, and Taehyung's mouth parts in a whimper that sends Yoongi rocking forward until the lengths of their bodies are pressed together at every point.

Taehyung's hands are under his thighs, lifting, and Yoongi barely has time to prep before his feet leave the ground. He gasps, breaking away to cling to the front of Taehyung's shirt as he's carried across the apartment, only to get dumped on his own bed. Taehyung pushes his bangs away from his eyes and promptly starts laughing when he sees Yoongi's expression.

"Hyung," he chokes out, crawling over Yoongi to kiss his cheek, the giggles still rising out of him. "Hyung, your face."

Yoongi huffs. Signs, Maybe if you didn't MANHANDLE people.

"You like it," Taehyung grins, kissing him again, his smile slipping through at times so that Yoongi keeps hitting his teeth. It's endearingly sexy.

"Wait." Taehyung rocks back. He's breathing hard, straddling Yoongi's thighs, and three of his buttons have popped open. It's a sight. Yoongi's thoughts keep bursting like bubbles. "I can't just assume if you like something. Sorry, that was wrong of me."

Yoongi blinks up at him, dazed. Mouths, What?

"Manhandling. Is that something you're actually into?"

Oh. The negotiation talk. Are they having the negotiation talk? Now? After Taehyung's only been back in the country for seven hours? They haven't even been on a proper date yet.

Yoongi lays back until he hits the pillows. He signs, I like it. I like a lot of things. But tonight I just want to kiss you. Hold you. Is that okay?

Taehyung shifts forward, hands landing on either side of Yoongi's head, and Yoongi slides his hands under Taehyung's loose shirt so he can splay his palms across the warm skin of Taehyung's lower back.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," Taehyung whispers, and when he kisses Yoongi again, it's nothing like the first time when they were moving on impulse. This is intentional. This is determined. This is Kim Taehyung guiding Yoongi's mouth open and taking Yoongi's breath away and laughing as he does it. This is Kim Taehyung tugging Yoongi's shirt off and then sitting there, weight pressing down, as he trails the tips of his fingers along every line of Yoongi's chest.

This is Kim Taehyung, signing out steadily, You're so beautiful, I adore you, with such open affection in his eyes that Yoongi gasps for a single shaky breath and then urges Taehyung back down so he can press a kiss to every beauty mark his mouth can reach.

~~~

"You know the uh, the spectrum?" Taehyung starts the next morning, after they've cleaned up and settled back into bed, cereal long eaten, Yoongi with a mug of coffee and Taehyung with a glass of orange juice.

Yoongi sets the drink to the side and rubs at his eyes before signing, You mean like the sexual one?

"No. I mean. Yeah, I guess I'm on that one, too, but I mean like—" Taehyung makes a series of vague, gesticulations. He flushes, when Yoongi just blinks at him. "Like the autistic spectrum."

Oh. Okay.

Yoongi reaches to hit the spacebar of his laptop where it's propped on his lap, pausing the show they were only semi-watching anyway. He signs, I know a bit, yes.

"Well, I'm on it."

Taehyung won't look him in the eye. Taehyung, who is as shameless as they get and so comfortable in his skin it's almost absurd sometimes, won't meet Yoongi's gaze.

Yoongi closes the laptop completely and pushes it away. He curls his feet under, so he can shift to face Taehyung, then reaches to trace a wavy tendril near his neck with one finger. Taehyung swallows thickly.

"I'm low, of course," Taehyung says, using his pinkie to pluck at a pill in the duvet. "Or I guess high-functioning? I don't really like that term but that's what it is. Yeah. I just, I figure since we're getting a bit serious then you should know so you can, y'know, decide if you want to break up?"

Taehyung says it quietly, reasonably, like it isn't the first time he's done so.

Yoongi's heart gives out. He sucks in a breath so quick it has Taehyung glancing his way. His expression, previously a smooth slate, pinches at the corners. "Or we're not serious and I totally just fucked this up. Okay. Okay, wow, I got ahead of myself there didn't I?"

Taehyung, Yoongi signs, snapping to get Taehyung's attention when he doesn't notice at first. First, yes we're dating. It'd be pretty weird at this point if we weren't. And what the fuck? Why do you think I would break up with you over something like this?

Taehyung takes so long to answer Yoongi's worried he wasn't clear enough, that he needs to get out his phone. But Taehyung just drags his fingers along his brow, pressing hard enough to leave red marks, and then says quietly, "Because other people have before and I wanted you to have a choice."

Yoongi rubs at his temple. He's angry, but he's not angry at Taehyung. I appreciate you respecting me like that, but seriously? What kind of assholes have you been going out with?

"They didn't leave because of the autstic thing, not... not like that. Just—" Taehyung curses under his breath. "Just, I'm a lot, okay? I know that. I don't have much of a filter and I get fixated on things and I'm just a lot to handle. I know that. So this is your chance to leave. Better early than later."

Yoongi takes this information like a knee to the gut. His breath shudders as he pulls himself up, lengthening his spine, and signs, Tae. If I ever leave you it'll be because we have conflicting views on politics or family dynamics or you like pineapple on pizza or some shit.

"I—I don't know some of those words," Taehyung mumbles. "Sorry."

Don't be, Yoongi signs, and then reaches over to the dresser to grab his phone. He ignores the slew of messages there and opens up his note app. Types out what he just said for Taehyung to read.

Taehyung inhales deeply. His eyes flick over the message twice before he says in a tinny voice, "You're not going to leave."

Tae, Yoongi types out. I'm not leaving you over this. You being autistic doesn't matter to me like that. I love that you told me, though, so that I can understand you better.

"You're not leaving," Taehyung repeats again, this time to Yoongi's face. His eyes are wide open. Misty, at the edges, like any moment they might blur over with tears.

Tae, Yoongi mouths, then signs evenly as possible, if anyone should be leaving, it should be you for having to put up with my ass.

"I love your ass," Taehyung sniffles. He wipes his nose with the back of his wrist. "I love you."

Love you, too, Yoongi mouths, and Taehyung hiccups, gasps, covers his face with his hands and promptly starts bawling.

Please tell me how you're always so okay, Yoongi asked the stars all those weeks ago, on that winter night during the walk back to his apartment with Taehyung in tow. A lifetime has passed since then, and Yoongi understands now that Taehyung's never been quite okay. Maybe that's why he's not so worried now, as he folds Taehyung up his arms and just lets him cry. Cathartic, he tells himself. A blood transfusion, just with feelings and memories and concerns.

The sobs soften to the occasional sniffle, and then Taehyung relaxes in his hold completely, asleep. Yoongi has to get ready for class, though, so he gently lowers Taehyung's head onto a pillow, careful not to jostle him, and leaves him there with a note scrawled on the back of a scrap sheet of paper from his desk that's big enough Taehyung will notice it when he wakes.

Went to class. Stay as long as you want. Food in the fridge.

I'm happy you're home. I'm happy you're here.

Can't wait for you to tell me everything.

♥

~~~

Days pass. Taehyung returns to his job at the cafe, but his shifts at the library don't begin until school resumes in a couple weeks. Seokjin and Namjoon and Hoseok are official, although they won't say it aloud and there's a running group bet on who's going to drop the details and when.

(Yoongi firmly believes that Namjoon will be the first to spill because he can't hold onto a secret even if his grades were at stake, but Jungkook comments that Hoseok is just a god-awful liar and if he were asked directly, he'd probably break under pressure.)

"I'm gonna bet on Jin-hyung," Jimin says, slapping down a napkin voucher with twenty-thousand written on it and his signature.

Hyung is an emotional fortress, Jungkook argues but takes the money anyway. He has a folder in his backpack for these types of deals. They've gotten more official over the years. (Apparently Yoongi and Seokjin have tried to cheat their way out of a loss one too many times.)

"He's chaotic," Jimin claps back, returning to wiping down the counter. It's that weird liminal time between rushes again, and because of the rain today, the cafe is empty. Jimin's cleaned the counter three times already. "If hyung knew everyone was betting against him, he'd go into graphic detail about their love life just to spite us no matter how much embarrassment it would bring himself."

Jungkook and Yoongi look at eachother, suddenly unsure. This observation can't be ignored.

Taehyung flies past them then, obviously running late, and Jimin lifts the counter before he can try to slip underneath and knock his head again.

"Oh, what are we gambling on?" He asks, catching sight of the napkins.

"Who in the OT-Three is going to reveal the juicy details of how they got together and who the middle spoon is," Jimin says with a gleaming smile.

Taehyung's brow pinches. He backpedals to lean over and press a wet kiss to Yoongi's cheek. Could be lip-balm, could be spit. Yoongi just wipes it off with his sleeve. "What? Namjoon-hyung, of course."

"Is going to reveal the deets?" Jimin asks. "Or is the spoon?"

"Both," Taehyung says. His voice carries as he slips into the kitchen to put his stuff away in the small office there. "It's a size thing. Makes more sense to put the largest one in the center so the other two can cling to him."

"But hyung gets so sweaty," Jimin calls back. Taehyung returns with an apron on. He ties the band loosely in the back, then does the same with his hair. "I don't think he wants to be clung to."

"But Hobi-hyung and Jin-hyung are fickle. They'd need an escape route. Namjoon's like a big dog. Kinda dumb, really sweet, doen't tknow how to ask for affection but he still wants it, y'know? He'd take the middle just to make the others happy."

Yoongi grins as he translates the whole conversation for Jungkook, and while Jungkook's been pretending to keep a stoic face the moment Taehyung slipped in, his facade cracks as soon as Taehyung calls Namjoon dumb. He scoffs. Sputters. They look over just in time to catch Namjoon trying to secretly stuff the fluff back into a pillow he's torn open, except Hoseok's there, obviously aware of what's happening, and Seokjin is watching from the washroom doorway with crossed arms and this besotten expression, like he can't fathom how he got here and if he should be upset or not.

Jungkook barks out a laugh. Namjoon freezes at the sound and swivels slowly, like prey caught in the wild. His expression makes Hoseok bust up, and soon Seokjin is curled over an armchair, practically squeaking, and Jimin and Taehyung have joined in on the hysterics because Seokjin's laugh tends to have that effect on people.

Yoongi smiles, his chest rising as he laughs along with them, and there's this pressure on his throat, this tickle, and suddenly a tiny sound slips out, nothing really, except it was something. A huge Something. Because Yoongi hasn't made a noise like that for as long as he can remember.

"Hyung." Jimin's hands are on his arm, tugging him around on the stool. He's practically buzzing. "Hyung, did you just giggle?"

Yoongi's mouth falls open, closes. Yoongi's gone into shock before, and it feels eerily similar to this moment. Like he's losing control of his limbs. Like he needs to sit down but he's already sitting.

"Hyung," Jimin repeats, and Jimin is smiling so it must be okay. He must be okay. Taehyung is watching them, wide-eyed, but no one is dying. That's a plus. "Hyung, I think you just laughed. Out loud."

Yoongi sniffs at that, but when he places his fingers against the side of his throat and pushes past the slight twinge of pain, the tiniest of grunts works it way past his lips.

Jimin shrieks. Taehyung drops a glass. Yoongi just takes a deep breath and promptly texts his mom.