Maybe it’s because they grew up together. Maybe it’s because when Jungkook was 5, a little boy moved in down the hall of his parents’ apartment building, and no other kids had ever lived there before. At least not that Jungkook remembered. Or maybe it’s because, when they were both younger playing alone in Jungkook’s room, Hoseok hadn’t cared about hiding himself anymore. He said it was hard to always have some level of control, and Jungkook didn’t understand but he said sure when Hoseok asked him if he wanted to see his extra arms. They slid and wiggled out the sleeves of his shirt, through the collar, out the bottom, some larger than others, but all gently moving on their own.
Hoseok continues to click Lego upon Lego, building something intently, even as Jungkook reaches forward in awe, giggling when a smaller tentacle gravitates toward his touch and wraps around his finger.
Maybe, possibly, it’s because no matter how many people tried to make fun of him for having tentacles, Hobi would still go out of his way to defend people, and Jungkook loved that about him. Sometimes Hobi would tell him as they laid on his bed passing a joint between them that it still hurt, of course it hurt, no one likes getting made fun of, but really it’s okay because his friends are the only ones who matter anyway.
He’s a little too high when he frowns softly, “I’m your friend, right hyung?”
Hoseok looks at him like he must be out of his mind. “Of course you are, Kookie.”
Jungkook watches enraptured when Hobi lays on his stomach and zones out, feeling comfortable enough to pull his shirt off and cross his arms under his head. His back is covered in bumps and ridges, some larger than others, and Jungkook’s always wondered how tense Hoseok must always be to keep them coiled tight like that when they’ve grown so large over the years. He crosses his legs beneath him and props his chin in his hand as each one relaxes, growing, growing so much larger than Jungkook ever thought they’d get when they were kids. Then again, he never really had any comparison for adolescent tentacle growth.
Jungkook’s taken to playing with them, twiddling them between his fingers, smacking them out of the air playfully until they retaliate in kind, letting them wrap around his wrist and squeeze.
Maybe it’s because he’s always been around them, or maybe it’s because it’s Hobi, his Hobi, but he never felt tentacles were weird, or even unattractive. Unfortunately, Jungkook learns sometime in his late teens on one very un-special occasion when Hobi’s watching TV and eating cereal, that there’s something a little different about the way he feels about them when he’s playing with Hobi’s hair, tugging in random intervals trying to annoy him. A tentacle reaches up quickly to wrap around his wrist tightly and squeezes until Jungkook can’t move, and there’s a hitch in his breath that even Hobi hears.
“Shit, sorry. Are you okay?” He asks, mistaking it for a gasp of pain.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have been messing with you anyway.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Sometimes these things just have a mind of their own.” He smiles sympathetically and turns around, but Jungkook notices the way they begin shrinking back into himself and he flicks the back of Hobi’s head.
