Chapter Text
“Jung Kook.”
“Jung Kook.”
“Jung Kook.”
The smell…
…It reeked…
…As usual.
“J
u
n
g
K
o
o
k.”
Jeongguk groaned.
Another moment passed with rising tension—
“—JUNG KOOK.”
Jeongguk blinked rapidly to snap out of it.
Where am I again? What’s going on?
Jeongguk registered the sharp, searing pain around his left eye.
It hurts, it hurts. Half his skull felt like it was thudding; his vision undulated in and out of reality, mismatched with his hammering heartbeat. Jeongguk stared at the ground—he’s on his knees again, his hands pressed against the cold kitchen tiles—and then he reached up to cup his stinging cheek after registering the other source of pain on his face.
“What?” Jeongguk replied dazedly, voice drifting.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
It was his father’s voice.
So loud, why so loud?
So full of misunderstanding, filled with hatred, wrought with resentment, and disappointment.
Disappointment.
Disappointment.
Jeongguk bit the inside of his bottom lip and takes a deep breath, but he delayed longer than his father’s patience. Suddenly, Jeongguk felt the seize of calloused fingers on his head, blunt nails grabbing at the root of his hair and yanking his head up.
“Aghh!!” He winced, closing his eyes on instinct.
“I SAID LOOK AT ME—”
With every waking force inside him, all the strength it took, Jeongguk pried his eyes to open just a sliver through lashes. His father—still a hazy silhouette blotched with dizzy static—stared down at his property; a mere pawn in his world.
“Are you trying to ruin my name?”
Jeongguk stayed silent, one, two, until he dared to speak.
He gulped hard, “Our name.”
“What did you fucking say?”
Cigars.
Ghost and ashes, seething, blowing hot in Jeongguk’s eyes.
Wretched soil.
Mud cracked, unforgiving.
“My name is Smith, too,” Jeongguk said lowly, growing rumble in his tone, “I’m your son.”
Viper spits his tongue.
“Then why is my son trying to ruin our name?”
“How is…” Jeongguk steadied his breathing, mustering up courage, thinking of his moon.
Can’t the situation change in your favor?
Yoongi.
I’m sorry it’s so hard.
I’m here for you, remember that.
I’m always here.
“…How is getting a B in math ruining our name?” Jeongguk scowled, eyes burning through his father’s gaze.
Jeongguk reached up, wrapped his hand around his father’s wrist and ripped his hand away from his hair. Feeling the tug and subsequent sting on his scalp, Jeongguk maneuvered away from him—adding up distance between them.
“You won’t graduate top of your class unless I pay them to!” His father shrieked, his unkempt hair once styled now a nest on his head, teeth darkened under the weight of stress.
Jeongguk straightened his back so he can stand at his fullest height, “You wouldn’t anyway.”
His father hollered through his harsh laughter, “You’re right, I wouldn’t, for a piece of shit like you.”
Jeongguk fought the sting of tears in his eyes.
“I don’t need your money,” Jeongguk grit his teeth, “And I’m not a piece of shit.”
“YOU ARE!!!—”
His father swung his arm out, swiping the air in front of him like a maestro gone south. Although out of reach, Jeongguk backs away instinctually, heart beating just as fast.
“—YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND,” Jeongguk yelled, “You’re drunk. You’re terrifying when you’re drunk, and you’re always drunk."
Whiskey.
Hot on his tongue, fuming, fanning Jeongguk’s face.
Putrid sulfur.
Hatred burnt metal.
"I—I’m scared of you—”
His father scoffed at the outburst, clearly stunned.
“And what does it matter anyway?!” Jeongguk continued, exasperation leaving him, “Why does it matter if I’m like you or not?”
His father growled, forehead marred with years and projection, “You’re an embarrassment; you’re a stain in the family name. I should’ve never adopted you. I fed you, I clothed you, I raised you under my roof—”
“—YOU LIAR,” Jeongguk strained to say through his hoarse throat, the guilt of tears breaking through, “You were barely here.”
Then, his father charged at him.
“You insolent brat, don’t talk back to me—”
Jeongguk dodged him just in time. He side-stepped out of the way and sped to the other end of the kitchen, but his father stomped towards him again. Jeongguk backed away nearing the other exit, but his eyes were glued to his father grabbing the back of the nearest dining room chair. He dragged it along with him—shrill banshee scraping on the tiles—and Jeongguk’s heart pleaded save me, save me, save me!
His father swayed with the alcohol poisoning his liver, labored grunting as he raised the chair to aim, but Jeongguk thought quick.
Jeongguk rushed up to him and collided into his chest straight-on with his two palms striking him in defense. His father lost grip of the chair, wild fury in his eyes—
CRASH!!!
—broken bottle, broken mirror, shattered glass.
He stumbled backwards from Jeongguk’s strength. He landed on his backside, groaning from the shooting pain up his spine, clambering hands palming uselessly behind him.
“You never loved me!” Jeongguk yelled as he raced towards the other exit.
He thought of Yoongi, his sanctuary.
He thought of reaching out for his hand.
“When I no longer answer to you,” Jeongguk heaved, chest rising and falling with each breath, “That’s when I’ll be free.”
Jeongguk hurried up the stairs and into his bedroom. He locked the door, pushed his wooden desk over to weigh it down and latch against the knob, and whipped out his suitcase. He hadn’t packed for California yet, he was eventually going to do it, but things have changed. Nights like this are always unplanned; they strike when life seemed promising.
And so, Jeongguk threw his clothes together—glancing down at the list on his phone, frantic to make sure he doesn’t forget anything—and all his portable filming equipment in a separate luggage carrier.
“Yoongi’s waiting for you,” Jeongguk whispered to himself, more tears on the rim of his eyes.
Burning.
Wildfire fueling the vacuum in his chest.
“Yoongi’s waiting, he’s waiting, he’s waiting.”
Jeongguk unlocked his windowsill and pushed it up as high as it could go. He threw on his hoodie, put a face mask on—his eye feels twice its size, it hurts, it hurts, but Yoongi’s waiting, waiting—and put on his backpack full of his equipment. Grabbing his suitcase with his clothes, Jeongguk pushed it out the window, along the angled roof, and
down
it fell onto the backyard patio couch.
Jeongguk climbed onto the roof next, sliding along with careful limbs, and with all his might he hung off the gutter until his knuckles turned white and
down
he fell and broke the backyard patio couch. But at least he was safe, bones intact.
Jeongguk shook off the jostled pins and needles in his joints and ran away—anywhere—and waited the last few hours before his flight to California.
-
-
-
“Tae…” Jimin eyes the tall ceilings in all their splendor, “How come you never talked about your family home?”
“It, uh, never came up when we were eastside,” Taehyung shrugs, “I live in the moment, I guess, and the moment we’re in now is in my house.”
He hoots in a cheerful laughter as Jimin stares a bit too reverently at a porcelain vase on a column by the stairs.
“Okay guys,” Taehyung looks at the group of boys (Rosa included; the extras went home), “Me and Mini in my room. The orgy in the south guest room—”
“—fuck you, Tae!” Seokjin rolled his eyes, but Hoseok bellows with laughter and hides his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.
“—Mr. and Mr. Smith in the north guest room—”
Yoongi snorted and Jeongguk had to admit he felt an amused smirk playing on his lips.
“—and Rosa, is it chill if you take the living room?”
“Isn’t that a little unfair?” Namjoon objected.
“No man,” Rosa stretched his arms out, ready to crash, “Have you seen their living room?? That couch is like two beds in one, I’m good.”
The group breaks off into their respective rooms to get their much-deserved rest after filming for the majority of the day. Jeongguk and Yoongi roll their luggage into the north guest room as assigned and immediately plop onto the queen-sized bed—not even bothering to unpack because fatigue is claiming them faster than they expected.
With a little coaxing, Yoongi manages to get Jeongguk back on his feet so they can at least brush their teeth and change into their pajamas. Jeongguk nearly groans with every footstep, feeling like he’s carrying another human on his back, until he finally lays his head on the pillow.
Before joining him in bed, Yoongi takes out his lighter and lights the candles on the dresser. Jeongguk notices the white color and familiar letters.
“That’s our lighter,” he mumbles softly.
He meant the Y · K · prop lighter for the film, of course, but—
“—Yes, baby, our lighter.”
Yoongi finally settles into bed with Jeongguk, wiggling his hips as he shuffles under the covers until he’s comfortably facing him.
Jeongguk looks into Yoongi’s eyes—his soft, warm eyes. Yoongi scans Jeongguk’s face, making zig-zags as he looks from his eyes to his lips to his cheek to his eyes again. Jeongguk knows, he can see it in his pinched eyebrows that Yoongi’s thoughts are racing with questions.
“What’s wrong, Yoongi?” Jeongguk says in a hushed voice.
Yoongi tightens his lips, chin trembling as he tries not to cry, and fixes his eyes on Jeongguk’s shirt.
“The moon reflects sunlight,” Yoongi says simply, still looking down, “And my sun isn’t himself right now.”
Yoongi barely gets the words out when his eyes redden, and the tears eventually fall down his cheeks. He sniffles, trailing his fingers up Jeongguk’s shift until they rest on his collarbones, “Are you okay? Does your eye still hurt?”
Jeongguk’s heart is about to burst.
He slips his own fingers behind Yoongi’s ear, cradling his head, “Angel, please don’t cry.”
“No! I’ll cry if I want to,” Yoongi retorts petulantly, “My baby has a black eye!!! His… his cheek is red!!!”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything in return. He just wants Yoongi to let it out and to feel his emotions. He deserves to, and he’s holding him through it.
“Where was I?” Yoongi says aloud, more towards himself than Jeongguk, “Where was I to care for you when this happened? Where was I to make sure it didn’t happen??”
Jeongguk’s chest tightens with affection, but guilt keeps him silent.
“Will you be okay for tomorrow’s shoot??” Yoongi continues, starting to spiral as he sifts through his thoughts, “I swear to god, if I find those men who hurt you, I’m gonna—!”
“—Don’t worry, Yoongi,” Jeongguk gently strokes Yoongi’s jaw with his thumb, wiping the tears that had clung to his skin, “I think I’ll be okay for tomorrow. I’ll try my best.”
“Baby, sweetheart,” Yoongi consoles him, blinking through the tears still stuck to his eyelashes, “We can wait until you’re feeling better, until you recover, okay??”
“At least I won’t need makeup for the shoot,” Jeongguk jokes without the playfulness.
“That’s not funny, Jeongguk-ah!” Yoongi shakes his head, placing a hand on Jeongguk’s chest, suddenly switching to Korean, “I’m really worried about you. Seeing you hurt like this, I—I can barely take it…”
“It’s okay,” Jeongguk responds in Korean.
After hearing the phrase, Yoongi wakes from his frazzled trance. Breathing slowly through his nose, then out his mouth, Yoongi gathers himself again to say, “Have you ever acted in your films before? Is this the first time that acting has felt so heavy and… real for you?”
Jeongguk thinks for a moment, then says, “Yes I’ve been in my own projects before, but only for more lighthearted things. So yes, this one is the most intense project I’ve been a part of. But I feel the need to stay the course and see it through to the end. I’ve been developing this concept for years; pretty much since I started college.”
Jeongguk frowns, still saddened to see Yoongi so upset, “I’m okay, Yoongi. I promise.”
He leans in to kiss his cheek lightly. Yoongi doesn’t move, fearing that he could accidently brush against his bruises, and just lets Jeongguk pepper small kisses along his face. His eyes flutter closed, relishing now in comfort as he focuses on Jeongguk’s gentle touches.
When Jeongguk pulls away, he locks eyes with Yoongi again, “Yoongi?”
“Hm?”
Jeongguk’s eyes glisten, too, “You know how you told me you got a sign from the universe to go after what you wanted?”
Yoongi nods slowly, sinking back into that memory of his.
“When I finally decided to try being a drag queen?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk nods, “When you realized that you didn’t want your dream to just be a dream anymore.”
Yoongi sighs and cranes his head so that his lips could reach Jeongguk’s forehead, giving him a kiss there, too.
“I know I’ve felt that way before, too, with film. But I think I feel that way right now…”
He blinks his eyes open and meets Yoongi’s concerned expression, eyes washed over with intensity now.
“What are you thinking about, Jeonggukie?”
“Well, whenever I’m with you, I feel like I have the courage to do just that,” Jeongguk continues, “I—I lost so much of my childhood… waiting for a moment like this.”
Then, as if by cosmic intervention—once again—Yoongi reads his mind.
“You’re about to graduate.”
Jeongguk freezes in place and his reaction dies on his tongue.
Yoongi doesn’t shake his eyes off him, somehow pouring strength into him, “Soon enough, you’ll be on your own.”
Does he know? Jeongguk starts to panic.
But Yoongi interrupts his thoughts, reaching up to bury his fingers in Jeongguk’s hair to massage his scalp again, petting and soothing him.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me at our first group shoot,” Yoongi says, “When you said that you had run away before. Tell me honestly, was it because of your dad?”
Jeongguk inhales deeply, “Yes.”
“Baby,” Yoongi starts carefully, “I know that your history might have exacerbated how intense your film is, and the mugging only made it worse, but please know that there’s a way out.”
With round, curious eyes, Jeongguk hangs onto every word.
“Chase it like fleeting youth,” Yoongi repeats, recalling their last conversation, back on the rooftop, “Don’t let the years win.”
Jeongguk nods, albeit hesitantly as he absorbs his advice, “Thank you, Yoongi.”
Without overthinking it, Jeongguk shuffles in place to bring his arms around Yoongi, scooping him up and bringing him as close to his body as possible. He hides his face in Yoongi’s neck, breathing him in.
“Jeongguk—”
He can’t help but grimace and let a sound eek out through closed lips as his fingers curl into the back of Yoongi’s shirt—pressing him ever closer.
“Jeonggukie,” Yoongi says worriedly, “Your eye, your eye! Please don’t hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care,” Jeongguk bites through the pain, kissing Yoongi’s neck now, needing this contact, “You’re here with me. Everything feels better when you’re with me.”
Jeongguk pulls away this time and scans Yoongi's face, looks at him carefully, before he kisses him. Yoongi lets out a whimper in surprise, then a moan out of concern, but when Jeongguk slides his tongue through his lips to meet his, Yoongi gives up and sinks into it. He’s been wanting this, too.
"You mean so much to me,” Jeongguk gasps between kisses, shuddering when he isn’t careful about his bruise.
One of Jeongguk’s hands cradle the back of Yoongi’s head, desperate to keep him close, while the other roams up his shirt and ghosts over his spine. Yoongi shivers at his phantom, teasing touch, his whimpering growing into elongated, breathy moans, “You have no idea—”
Yoongi loses himself in reckless abandon, cupping Jeongguk’s face now but immediately regretting when his fingers brush against the pain, but he stammers, “Y—You have no idea just how much you mean to me, Jeongguk.”
I need you, Yoongi.
Jeongguk pleads to the faceless cosmos, passing parts of his soul one breath at a time, each kiss an angel’s promise for new beginnings and protection.
“I need you.”
-
-
-
The next day of filming, the group prepares for their most complicated scenes. And part of what they—Seokjin and Jeongguk, specifically—mean when they briefed the rest of the boys during the run-through of the treatment is that today’s scenes are difficult to clean up after.
They have to film a pillow fight (and manage to gather enough feathers as props to strew across the entire set), the party in the living room, the party moving to the bathroom, and everything in between.
Seokjin contacts the same extras—hiring them today not for acting but to use their apartment as the set—and coordinates with them to meet before lunchtime; then, it’s another full day of filming. They all get ready in their clothes and head out. As soon as they arrive on set, they prepare the props and plan out the order of the scenes for the day to make each cleanup the most efficient.
“Jeonggukie, you don’t have any makeup on today,” Seokjin comments.
Jeongguk only shakes his head.
“I’m sorry, but…” Seokjin exhales slowly, “I know it’s going to hurt, I’m sorry, but the scenes we're filming today take place before the ones for I Need U.”
Yoongi, standing next to Jeongguk, jumps in to help, “I can do it, Jin. Don’t worry. I’ll help him.”
“Thank you.”
He walks away, leaving Yoongi to talk to Jeongguk one-on-one.
“Will you let me put makeup on you?” Yoongi asks, taking Jeongguk’s hands in his, squeezing them for reassurance, “I’ll be very gentle.”
A beat passes, but Jeongguk eventually agrees.
It takes only a few minutes for everyone to get situated in the new set; the rest of the boys have been keeping themselves busy by catching up since they haven’t seen each other in weeks.
“Let’s film the quick take of Jeongguk sitting on the floor by himself, staring out at the living room,” Seokjin directs, “Before things get messy.”
"How are you feeling today?" Yoongi asks one more time, having already asked this as they got ready in their room.
Jeongguk sighs heavily, "I'm here."
He walks over to where Rosa is busy discussing the scenes, camera angles, and lighting with Seokjin, joining them without missing a beat. Jeongguk doesn’t have very many opportunities to film behind the camera today either, since there are more scenes that focus on him, including the full group scenes, but he promises Seokjin that he’ll try to do a better job at monitoring today.
“How did your recordings go?” Yoongi asks Jimin and Hoseok, “Did you guys get to finish the new songs?”
“Yeah!!!” Jimin gives Yoongi a back hug, “I did mine right after Hobi. He did AMAZING!!”
Hoseok giggles shyly, “Thank you, I didn’t think I had a talent for rapping, but you’ve always liked it whenever I gave it a try, and Joon was giving me really good feedback.”
“That’s great!” Yoongi grins at his best friends, “I knew you’d make a good rapper. If you fine-tune it, you could write your own music someday. Jimin, too.”
“Yahhh,” Jimin blushes, “Stop. You’re only saying that~”
“You have a beautiful voice, babe,” Taehyung scoots into their conversation, hooking an arm around Jimin’s waist.
“Are these the props we’ll be using today?” Hoseok asks curiously off to the side, noticing the pile of supplies on the table. His eyes land on a deck of card that looks awfully familiar, then he picks it up to show it to the rest of them.
Jimin gasps, “Hey! I used to have a deck like this, way back when…”
“Ooooh,” Taehyung peeks as Hoseok brings them over, “That deck is butterfly-themed. Damn, Jeonggukie is really detail-oriented. When are we filming with these?”
Namjoon overhears the question, answering from a few feet away, “What, Tae??”
“When are we using these cards today? Or can we play with these while they finish setting up—?”
“—We’re almost done, I swear!!” Seokjin calls out, not looking up from the cameras.
“There’s this scene where Jin’s building a house of cards or something,” Namjoon scratches his head, staring down at his phone while sitting on the couch, “And then I have to pick it up. Let the camera look at it. Like that.”
Jimin takes the cards out of Hoseok’s hands, “You know what these remind me of???”
“What?” Taehyung answers.
“That summer when I was really into card games like poker and black jack and brought it every time I hung out with friends,” Jimin laughs, “But do you guys remember the day that Yoongi met—”
Yoongi’s expression falls into shock.
“—HE who must not be named,” Yoongi growled, pouting directly at a sneering Jimin.
“Oh my god, YOU’RE RIGHT!!!” Hoseok yelps, “Your ex.”
“YAHH,” Yoongi cringes with his entire body, hiding his face, “Stop talking right now!!!!”
Taehyung bursts out laughing, “What’s with this passionate reaction??”
Yoongi’s cheeks start to burn pink at the recollection, “It’s not passionate, he was terrible.”
“Oh yeah, he was fucking awful; the reason Yoongi basically stopped believing in love,” Jimin nods, a giggle still escaping, “But I can’t help but remember just how flirty Yoongi used to be.”
“Yeah!” Hoseok chimes in, “Yoongi, you used to give out your number to random people—”
“—I’m not like that anymoreeeeee,” Yoongi pouts, hating the attention on him, “That was when I was still a horny teenager.”
“It was the same day you got your laser eye surgery and you still picked up a guy,” Jimin cackles fondly at the memory.
“Laser eye surgery?? No wonder you don’t wear glasses,” Taehyung leans his head back, aghast, “I know bunny wears them, even I have reading glasses, but…”
“Yeah. Sharp memory, sharp eyes, I guess,” Yoongi nods, “Can we please stop talking about my fucking ex.”
He glares at them as he heads over to where Jeongguk is standing and takes shelter, slipping his arms around his stomach to hug him. Jeongguk seems to be doing a better job at focusing today since he doesn’t say anything and just puts a hand on top of Yoongi’s to show him that he’s happy about the gesture.
In a few minutes, Seokjin calls everyone’s attention on set. They clear out so Jeongguk can take his place at the foot of the stairs while everyone waits for his cue.
“You know the scene, right?” Seokjin asks to clarify.
Jeongguk nods, muttering, “My friends are gone.”
“Yup, that one. Remember, we have the camera zoomed in on your face right now. Then we’ll pan out,” Seokjin turns to Rosa, “Ready.”
“3-2-1…” Rosa counts down on his fingers for Jeongguk, pressing the record button on the camera, “Rolling!”
Jeongguk fixes his eye just beyond the camera, nailing the thousand-yard stare for the scene. But even in the silence, in the emptiness, when Jeongguk notices the mirror hanging on the wall, he blinks once and is suddenly thrust back into his home.
Where am I again? What’s going on—?
“Cut!” Seokjin exclaims, “Great job, Jeonggukie. Let’s keep it moving to the group scenes.”
“Jeongguk.”
“Jeongguk.”
“Jeongguk?”
“We’re done with your scene, baby,” Yoongi whispers, tender voice cutting through the fog.
Jeongguk sees him, like a beacon, and realizes that he’s kneeling in front of him on the floor.
“Let’s go,” Yoongi gives him a soft smile.
-
-
-
“Remember, the group scenes are really rowdy, boisterous, fun,” Seokjin recalls, flipping through the treatment just in case, “Basically we gotta give off that nostalgic vibes of childhood fun; like best friends having the time of their lives, not a care in the world.”
Jeongguk takes a deep breath.
I can do this.
He looks at Yoongi.
For my film.
Rosa quickly learns that the camera directing in this section of the film will rely mostly on his technique with the gyro-stabilizer. The scenes won’t be shot on a static tripod, but rather moving dynamically alongside the boys to help build that ramped up, chaotic feeling.
They film the pillow fight scene next, which Hoseok, Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung have the most fun with. They do a pretty good job of hitting the feathers out of the pillows themselves, but for artistic effect, Seokjin was relieved to think ahead and make sure to buy extra feathers so that the floor appears covered with them like a blanket.
“I know we’re filming for nostalgic purposes, but to be honest I’ve never had a pillow fight before,” Taehyung admits with a lighthearted chuckle.
“Neither have I,” Jimin agrees, “Even Hobi. Why is this all of our first time doing a pillow fight?”
“You all did incredible!” Seokjin reassures them, “Now can everyone help clean it up so we can move on to the bathroom and party scene?”
With joint efforts, the team gets the set in order so that they can bring out the rest of the props to play with. Spray cans, streamers, funky glasses, anything and everything they could find at the dollar store. When Rosa calls out the recording, they all go wild with the props as they interact with each other and the camera whenever Rosa films near them.
But every time the camera comes near Jeongguk, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do; he feels trapped in limbo, unsure of himself, conscious and poised for fleeing.
Why?
Rosa, being a professional, reads his energy instantaneously and moves on to film the next playful interaction.
They had spent the majority of the afternoon filming inside the apartment, and the last scene of the evening is Yoongi’s and Jeongguk’s fight.
“So, there’s no choreo for this either,” Seokjin starts explaining to the two of them, “But maybe considering what happened yesterday with Jeonggukie, do you think it would help if there was?”
Yoongi looks at Jeongguk, reading his lost expression, “Yeah, do you have anything in mind?”
“Okay, how about you throw some punches, Jeongguk,” Seokjin suggest, “Yoongi will be stubborn and defiant. You might also act drunk, since this character is an alcoholic. Ultimately, your efforts at stopping him don’t work. And feel free to improvise the drama, Yoongi. Whatever props you want to use.”
“Sound good?” Yoongi asks in a sweet voice.
Jeongguk nods tentatively.
“I think you’ll do fine,” Seokjin nods firmly, “You wrote the scene yourself.”
Yes.
I wrote it.
When the camera finally rolls, Jeongguk stays in place, unmoving with his hands at his sides. Yoongi recognizes that he might have to be the one to initiate the fight, so he rushes up to Jeongguk and pushes him, but the impact only leaves him dazed.
“Are you trying to ruin my name?”
“Jeongguk,” Seokjin sighs, “Cut.”
“How is getting a B in math ruining our name?”
Jeongguk looks over his shoulder to meet Seokjin’s eyes. The rest of the crew wait with anxious confusion.
“You won’t graduate top of your class unless I pay them to!”
“Please remember to react appropriately.”
“Okay.”
“You wouldn’t anyway.”
The camera picks up again and Yoongi takes another moment to assess where Jeongguk—his mind—is before he closes the gap between them and pushes him again. This time though, Jeongguk falls back as expected and Rosa captures the expression on his face.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t, for a piece of shit like you.”
He looks like he’s scrambling to ground himself, already breathing harshly through his nose.
“I don’t need your money…”
Seeing Jeongguk slip into character, Yoongi relaxes enough to push the boundaries of his own. He smirks, playing up the defiant part of his character’s personality trait, as he shouts out loud--grabbing everyone's attention.
“…And I’m not a piece of shit.”
“Good!” Seokjin praises him, “Keep rolling, Rosa. You guys can say things if it helps you feel less awkward.”
“YOU ARE!!!—”
Jeongguk runs up to Yoongi and—with only a second to spare—Yoongi realizes that he’s throwing a punch. He ducks in time, the action translating realistically through the camera, and when Yoongi lifts his head again, he naturally falls back into his character’s defiant swagger.
“—YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND,” Jeongguk screams, his body erupting into uncontrollable shivering.
Yoongi, and even Seokjin, hold their breath as Jeongguk catches everyone off guard with his sudden outburst.
Jeongguk nearly hyperventilates, “You’re drunk. You’re terrifying when you’re drunk, and you’re always drunk.”
“Lean into it, Yoongi,” Seokjin mumbles off-screen, and continuing seamlessly into his next move, Yoongi grunts as he pushes Jeongguk back again.
Jeongguk and Yoongi stare intensely at each other, fervor brewing and rising. It’s Yoongi again this time, charging towards Jeongguk with conviction in his steps, but as if on instinct, Jeongguk meets him with open arms. He grounds his heels into the wooden floorboards, bends his knees, and pushes Yoongi back—gathering him into a forceful embrace; partly to defend himself, and partly to keep him contained.
Yoongi huffs out all the air in his lungs upon impact, hearing the thud of their colliding chests. Jeongguk wastes no time in shoving him backwards until Yoongi is forced to follow his lead.
But out of nowhere, Jeongguk lets out a choked sob—a quiet plea near Yoongi’s ear, “Why don’t you love me?”
Yoongi almost breaks out of character.
“What?” Yoongi asks, voice caught in a tremor, by surprise.
“Keep going!” Seokjin reminds them, “Use some of the props, Yoongi.”
“What did you say, Jeonggukie?” Yoongi asks again, breathy voice cutting the air like he’s desperate for the answer, but Jeongguk doesn’t hear him.
Yoongi quickly bites back his thoughts, swallowing the words down, down, down. Just before he figures out what he wants to execute for the scene, he leans back to catch the look in Jeongguk’s eyes—pupils blown wide, dark, and
utterly,
irrevocably
lost.
Without letting too much time pass, Yoongi shoves Jeongguk back as hard as he can—hoping that he picks up on his direction and knows to move back—but Jeongguk seemingly topples back onto his backside, falling to the floor near the overturned couch. Taking his genuine shock as the perfect opportunity, Yoongi sees a chair and walks towards it.
“W—W—” Jeongguk mumbles.
Yoongi raises the chair—
“WAIT!!!!” Jeongguk screams.
Immediately, Yoongi stops and puts the chair back on the ground, but it was too late.
Jeongguk stands up, his eyes darting across the floor by his feet. His hand comes up to touch his cheek, and when the pain registers once more, he gasps in remembrance.
“I’m—” Jeongguk shakes his head, struggling to land on the sentences he wants to get out, “I’m done for the night. I’m gonna go change back into my other clothes.”
He says it under his breath to nobody in particular as he storms off set, hurrying towards the door, and leaves without another word.
“What did he say??” Yoongi asks around, walking towards the door but still hesitant about leaving everyone hanging on set like this, “Did anyone catch what he said??”
“Uh,” Taehyung responds, shrugging, “I think he said something about changing his clothes.”
“Yeah, he’s done for the night,” Namjoon presses his lips together, a little let down, “Sorry, Jin.”
“Bunny isn’t normally like this, though…” Taehyung pouts.
Yoongi walks closer to the door, but before he could reach the handle, he sees Jeongguk’s backpack on the floor by one of the chairs. He peers inside and sees the hoodie and jeans he was wearing earlier; not forgotten, but ignored.
“These are his clothes,” Yoongi’s heart rate starts to pick up as he holds up the backpack, “What are you talking about?? He didn’t take his backpack... his clothes are right here!”
Yoongi’s voice starts to falter as he looks around the room, “He… he still isn’t himself. He’s going through something… H—He might be getting flashbacks to the men who mugged him. Or—”
Hoseok tries to comfort him, “It’s okay, Yoongi, he probably just needs some space—”
“He’s not safe,” Yoongi spits out in desperation, “Especially on his own.”
Yoongi flings the door open and runs out, saying before he disappears, “I’m gonna look for him. If you don’t hear back from me first in the next ten minutes, check my location and find me.”
-
-
-
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
“Jeongguk!”
Jeongguk looks over his shoulder but he walks even faster, digging his fists into his jacket pockets, “Don’t follow me!”
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
J EJGONG UK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JUNG KOOK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
JEONGGUK
“Jeongguk, wait!” Yoongi calls out to him.
“No, I—” Jeongguk whimpers, taking his hands out of his pockets to grab at his hair, wrists covering his ears, “—I’m scared.”
“Sweetheart,” Yoongi asks, his heart breaking, “Talk to me—”
“—I’m scared!” Jeongguk repeats, fingernails scraping at his scalp.
“I should’ve never adopted you. You’re a disappointment. You’re nothing but a piece of shit. You’re nothing without my money. You were nothing when I found you, you’re nothing now."
“I’M SCARED OF YOU!”
Yoongi’s eyes widen as he hears those words.
"You’re alone, you’re alone, you’re alone and nobody loves you, you aren’t worth loving, nobody will love you, nobody loves you, not me, not your father, not you, not your mother, not them, nobody, you’re a piece of shit, shit, shit, worth nothing, you’re nothing, nothing, nothing—”
Jeongguk is crying now, Yoongi can hear it in his voice. He can feel the burning lump in his throat as if it were his own. His heart is rabid; the claws ripping through his rib cage, wanting to jump out at Jeongguk.
But Jeongguk doesn’t stop running. He runs until the sound of car engines fill the air.
“Jeongguk! This is reality,” Yoongi reminds him frantically, noticing the busying streets in this side of town, “This isn’t one of your bad dreams!”
Yoongi is running out of breath, but he doesn’t stop until he’s within reach. He’s less than a block away from him now, but Jeongguk can tell that he’s approaching, so he nearly trips over his laces as he quickens his own pace.
“Honey, please, listen to me!” Yoongi begs, “Don’t conflate reality with what isn’t—”
Jeongguk finally reaches a lamp post at an intersection and grabs it for support, knees falling weaker. Yoongi can see them buckle—bound to break any second if Jeongguk doesn’t rest.
“Jeongguk!” Yoongi calls out again until he reaches him, standing a few feet back to give him space.
Without turning to face him, Jeongguk heaves as he stares at the pavement under his shoes, his shoulders dropping with the immensity of his breaths, “Why…”
He sobs. His voice yielding to the wailing sounds that needed to come out.
“Why don’t you love me?” Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut. Doubles over his own stomach, covering his face as he breaks down crying; the salted wounds seeping into every crevice on his palms.
Yoongi’s face contorts with pain, taking one step forward, “Jeongguk, I—”
“—Don’t come closer!” Jeongguk warns, hearing his footsteps.
Yoongi gives him another minute until Jeongguk can peer up from his hands, back out onto the street in front of them, “I try to be the best for you... I try, I work hard, but you don’t see it. You don’t give a shit about me.”
Jeongguk hiccups, his whole body shaking, “Why don’t you love me?”
Yoongi swallows thickly, a tear falling from the corner of his eye, wanting to reach out and touch him, “Jeongguk…”
He shakes his head, "How could you say that—?"
“—I’M YOUR SON!” Jeongguk yells, slamming the side of his fist on the lamp post.
Yoongi freezes, widening his eyes.
“—Yet I’m nothing but a puppet to you,” Jeongguk finishes.
“I just want to be loved…
Why don’t you love me?...
Did I do something wrong?...
You’re drunk, you’re terrifying when you’re drunk…”
"You are my sun," Yoongi says in a quiet voice, “Jeongguk, I do love you…”
His heart is beating out of his chest. He hears the merciless metronome of it; impatience winning. The seconds passing for too long. He let him peek inside the restless cavity of his chest and he's taking too long—
"No," Jeongguk shouts, delirium striking his core, "You never loved me."
Jeongguk finally turns around. His eyes meet Yoongi’s. This time, the world does stop. Time gives way for them.
"W—What?" Yoongi stutters.
“You’ve never loved me.”
A string of cars honk their horns near them—the intersection gaining traffic.
“Jeongguk…”
Yoongi looks at him, yearns, but all he can see in Jeongguk’s eyes is wildfire. Gone.
And yet...
"I love you with all my heart," Yoongi feels every syllable climb out his mouth, at long last saying these words to him, “I was meant to find you.”
“Bullshit,” Jeongguk bites back, “I wish you never found me.”
Jeongguk darts away from the lamp post—
—and steps off the curb.
“JEONGGUK!!!” Yoongi screams, ripping through his throat, "NO!!!"
Yoongi grabs Jeongguk’s elbow just in time, before a car speeds past them, blaring its horn.
The enormous force of his pull was too much though, yanking Jeongguk back into his own body and collapsing onto the cement sidewalk together. Yoongi hears Jeongguk grunt as the back of his head hits the pavement.
He opens his eyes, looking around dizzily, “Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk is laying on his back next to him. Safe. Breathing. Heart beating.
But he won’t open his eyes.