so far away | yoonkook

mid-afternoon : 27

"you like records, joon?" yoongi doesn't look up from the page he was writing on when namjoon settles across from him on the dining table. the younger sets a couple of textbooks down in front of him and preoccupies himself with his own business.

"I have a few. but they're not your taste, or at least I think they're not." he flips through a few hundred pages before he stops almost halfway through the book and marks down a section with a yellow sticky note. "why the sudden question?"

yoongi observes the way namjoon thumbs down important parts, doing this like a skill he's mastered a long time ago. he doesn't get lost along the way, even though he sometimes goes back to pages he's skipped, maybe because a keyword had reminded him that this chapter was correlated with that.

"do you have a player?" the older one leans back and sets his pen down, looking at namjoon with tired eyes. but he swears he's not tired from anything else besides the crying.

"I do. but I don't think it works well anymore. I haven't touched it in five years or so."

"where do you keep it?"

"last cabinet on the left, on the bottom most compartment in the kitchen." namjoon points at the open archway with the edge of a stub of yellow sticky notes.

yoongi acknowledges him with a nod to his head.

they get quiet for a while, mainly because namjoon gets engrossed in the interest of learning too easily.

he does this for his own personal advantages. he had planned on applying for a scholarship program if he gets accepted into his choice of university. as he'd mentioned to yoongi a couple of weeks back, the results would arrive in a month.

the time his marks get mailed to him is drawing nearer and nearer, only about a few days left. but namjoon feels confident about his exam, despite the fact that yoongi arrived at his doorstep while he was in the middle of studying, told him that he got distracted because of his hyung.

yoongi wasn't much of a bother, that's the only thing that mattered.

right now, he doesn't distract namjoon from familiarizing the terms and flow charts present in his textbook, just eyes him interestedly with the lack of nuisance present in his bubble. this was how namjoon found peace, succumbing to the joys of reading.

so yoongi goes back to his own little pleasures.

he hasn't been writing all that much recently. his attention's been directed towards other things disregarding literature as a whole.

but yoongi doesn't mind that jungkook was one of the main reasons why he's ignored his notebooks even though he's brought so many with him. he's the reason why yoongi's filling them up again now.

yoongi wants to paint so many pictures of jungkook in words that'll mold him into colors of both unseen and tangible, that prove his actuality and being. in the loops of his letters and their rises and falls, in tenses and superlatives and perfect participles, yoongi wants to capture this boy the same way van gogh depicted his understanding of a starry night.

having jungkook in his life was like going through a long misty dream. like traveling through a surreal forest where the rivers ran with orange water and the skies spilled with purple and white and the trees stretched up so high their tips kissed the clouds. picturesque like something out of not one, but many fairytales that yoongi hadn't never heard of when he was a child, just thought of now that he was older. he knows the scenes would fit his unknown childhood dreams, an odd happiness he'd never felt before.

jungkook wasn't the one to talk about reality too much either. jungkook was the one who asked about simple things, things that simple people could answer, things that sounded nice and genuine like little worries and names of ballet shows. and when he was answered, he would light up, glow as if he didn't know he had that ability. and maybe he didn't.

maybe he didn't know that he could do such things, maybe he didn't know he had that effect, maybe he didn't know he had such a pretty face.

maybe he didn't know yoongi thought he was perfect, actually thought he was breathtaking, heart-stopping, just completely overwhelmingly beautiful that it was hard to believe he really existed.

that's why yoongi feels a dreamlike happiness with him, because he couldn't be true, he couldn't be.

and yet, he really is.

with all his brokenness and imperfection and wrong and rightness, he was real.

"I think I'll go out for a while." yoongi closes his notebook with a flop of the cover. he pushes his seat back gently so as not to further disturb namjoon.

as he made his way out the dining room, carrying his leather clad jotter between his arm and side, he's stopped short of his tracks when something hits him at the back of his head, not too rough that it actually hurt but just enough for him to notice it.

he looks back to see namjoon still scanning over the paragraphs.

"what gives?" yoongi finally turns around to face his body towards the younger guy.

namjoon simply directs his pointer down near yoongi's feet.

when yoongi follows the direction he was pointing at, he sees a small crumpled piece of yellow paper. warily, he bends down. picks it up and unfolds it.

you love him, hyung?

yoongi wonders how a four-word question could've made him weak on the knees. he stares at the perfectly identical lines of namjoon's penmanship. an added weight in his chest and on his shoulders causes his stance to soften.

yoongi's jaw tightens as he searches for the answer.

he thinks it's hidden somewhere at the back of his mind, at the recesses of his heartbeats, the ends of his breaths. he knows he had it back then, has practiced what it would taste like if he uttered it. though now, he's not too sure. not too sure if it's the same as he imagined it before.

he only thinks that way for he urges himself to find the right words. the answer isn't hidden at all, in fact it stands at the very core of his being, singular and powerful.

namjoon tucks a folded sheet of paper he had written his notes on in his book to mark where he left off. he looks over at yoongi with a hopeful gaze that doesn't hint any expected answers.

then yoongi purses his lips, his arm releasing the leather clad jotter only to catch it in his hand.

he nods and it looks a bit unsure, a bit hasty.

namjoon nods too, looking away only to set his gaze at the wall across from him.

"I hope you take good care of him more than I did." the younger says, lowering his head as he grabs a different textbook and begins flipping through the pages.

"only if he's willing to accept what I've to give." yoongi replies before he walks out of the dining room.

namjoon begins tabbing the pages once more, adding extra information on the yellow sticky notes when necessary.

he sighs. his stomach is busy with butterflies.

because namjoon knows that the kid with the jet-black hair was more than willing to accept what yoongi would give him. he's the very reason why yoongi was here in the first place. if he hadn't gone through namjoon's messages before, who knows where yoongi could've ended up in.

they need each other, this much namjoon knows.

but something makes namjoon's insides swim. he's afraid of the possibility that one day that need would die out.

because who will they run to then?