ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs. | ᴍ.ʏɢ + ᴊ.ᴊᴋ ✔️

thirty-seven

Jungkook slept for about an hour. Yoongi would have liked him to sleep longer, because the boy honestly looked like he could use it, but an hour was better than nothing.

Jungkook's eyes opened softly, slowly. He turned his head, at first sad to discover Yoongi wasn't still sitting there beside him, but in just a moment his slightly fuzzy vision cleared and he saw the older boy sitting on the ground, his head leaning back against the younger's dresser.

"...hyung?"

Yoongi snapped awake. He hadn't even realized he dozed off until Jungkook's weak voice somehow bled through his thin layer of unconsciousness.

"Jungkook? Hey, uh..." He cleared his throat. "How ya feelin'?"

The boy tried lifting his head up, not even making it three inches off his pillow before falling back again. Disheartening to a high degree.

"Don't push yourself kid," Yoongi sighed. He reached out to pat the boy's head. "Even with that nap you still look like death. Are you hungry or anything?"

"Not really..."

"Well, you should eat anyway."

"Don't wanna."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No."

"Then why won't you eat?"

It triggered some sort of emotional reaction from the younger, a subtle twitch of the lips and brows, and it took Yoongi a moment to consider why. Again, this whole thing probably wasn't something Jungkook was used to. At all. The kid most likely grew accustomed to coming home from school to an empty house, which to Yoongi, sounded like one of the saddest things any person should have to go through, no matter the age. It didn't concern Yoongi now that he was in college, as an adult, and living in an apartment, because there were benefits to living alone and he liked it anyway - not every part of it, but he had enough wisdom to know that nothing in life could be perfect. But Jimin had taught him that good enough was good enough.

Jungkook never had a Jimin. Only a mother who had to work to support herself and her only son, meaning she couldn't be there all the time even if she wanted to.

And yet still did Jungkook seem so happy and lively when he texted Yoongi, as though his life was perfect, as though he couldn't be happier.

Yoongi almost felt ashamed of himself for being so gullible.

"Hey."

Softly he brushed aside Jungkook's bangs to give him a better view of the boy's eyes. On the verge of tears again, they appeared. Yoongi sighed.

"How about some water?"

"Hyung, why did you come here?"

This again. "I already told you," the older explained, "I was planning to drive you to the concert."

"Why?"

"Because I've had bad experiences with public transportation, kid, and I didn't want to risk that happening to someone else if I could do something about it."

And so the tears fell again. But more silently this time. Jungkook attempted to sit up in bed.

"Hey, hey, easy there, don't strain yourself-"

"I'm okay-"

"You're not, kid, you passed out from a fever, what part of that is 'okay'?"

Jungkook didn't press an argument, but he resumed his effort of sitting himself upright and succeeded with minor assistance. His back now rested against his pillows. He wiped away the moisture on his cheeks with his long sleeves.