#ynkk

"The boy is afraid of reality

the worst thing about their end had been the silence. 

there was no loud screaming or yelling, no accusations being flung left and right, no pointing fingers or throwing stuff. only two defeated boys, on the floor of their living room, trying to figure out a puzzle that they both knew didn’t fit anymore. there were too many pieces that didn’t match, too many colors that didn’t blend correctly— jeongguk wanted to see the world but yoongi was scared of it, jeongguk wanted to run and yoongi had said go.

that night, he plays one of them. one of the many voicemails his hyung had left him throughout the first six months of their breakup. voicemails stored on his old phone. the phone that jimin had taken from him and hid for the first two weeks. the phone that jeongguk had convinced jimin he’d thrown away long ago. the phone that he’d hidden beneath the bed. the phone that he was clutching in his hand. 

at first, all he hears is shuffling. breathing. even his breaths are familiar. soft and gentle against his collarbone, hair tickling his chin. a huff of laughter. fast, breathy pants stuck to sweaty skin. then, a sigh, “it’s me—“ he starts, and jeongguk almost startles, almost drops the phone in his hands when he hears his hyung’s low voice, gravelly and sad, but worst of all, hollow. 

“i— i don’t know if you still have my number,” he pauses, sounds unsure and jeongguk has to stop himself from reassuring him, the gentle words of it’s okay, hyung and of course i still have your number and take your time wanting to tumble out from beneath his tongue, “hell, i don’t even know if you’re receiving these.” 

“jin-hyung said i should stop calling you but—“ jeongguk almost doesn’t breathe, scared he’ll miss a breath of yoongi’s, a word, an inhale. anything. wants to soak up any and all he can find of the man’s memory, thinks please don’t stop calling me, “i know you wished me well but— it’s been shit, gguk-ah—“ yoongi’s voice breaks and he lets out a wet laugh, an empty sound that makes jeongguk’s heart hurt, makes his hand grip onto the phone tighter. he can hear his hyung’s – his yoongi’s – shuddering breaths on the other end of the line. 

his hyung had always been so adamant on not crying in front of jeongguk, to be strong— but he was sensitive. jeongguk knew, yoongi knew, everyone who knew them knew that yoongi cried whenever jeongguk would give him an anniversary gift, that he cried when jeongguk asked him to be his boyfriend, that he cried when jeongguk had accidentally revealed plans of wanting a future with him. was yoongi planning a new future now? 

Spiderkook AU🕷

Witch AU 🐇

Police man AU 🚔

Urban Fantasy AU🐉

Because Jungkook, not even just in a visual sense, is practically a piece of art already. He's shy and he's cute but he's tall with loud laughter and everything about him is contradictory that he's so complex but wonderfully simple all at the same time. Yoongi's been dying to paint his skin for a while now, more than just doodling on the back of his hand, because he's always wanted to see how the younger would look with bright colours against his bare flesh.

And they're so captivating. Yoongi's painted on people before, mainly just friends out of boredom, but he'd always just seen them as another type of canvas. With Jungkook, however, it's like he's layering art on top of art on top of art and it gets him so excited and breathless and- and Jungkook knows.

"You really like this, don't you?" he asks, the breeze tousling at his hair.

"I..." Yoongi presses his lips together, trying in vain to suppress a grin. "I've always wanted to see my colours against your skin,"

"As good as you imagined?"

"So much better,"

In all the colours Yoongi could fathom, he paints a forest of evergreen trees on Jungkook's chest.

From: Summer '15

##yoonbkook messy header