#died at age 99

[granonine]

Saturday Soliloquy: I Love Piano!

Some of you may already have checked out. That’s okay. I know that not everyone shares my love for playing and listening to piano music. You should, but we’re all different. Maybe you LOVE football or baseball. Maybe you love to watch pro wrestling. I’ll never understand that one, but you know, different strokes. I don’t hate football, baseball, hockey et.al. I just don’t love them. I DO love a…

[cyberdragoninfinity]

god Mr. Heartland is such an insane yugioh character, I love him so fucking much. He’s so SO funny. He’s like if Maximillion Pegasus had political authority and actually WAS like 42 and then also ended up working for Satan From the Bible. He was taking children in off the streets and training them in underground duel Endurance Rooms until they dropped and he did this for YEARS and nobody stopped him. He fell in a portal and went to Hell. He got turned into a fly by an alien teenager who was also his boss. The city he was mayor of thought he was dead so they built a gigantic memorial in his honor. He became one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He’s part alien-bug monster. He looks like a yassified businessman half the time.

he’s great

[pixility]

it's hilarious to me that people will count eruri as "old man yaoi" when those motherfuckers were in their like mid-thirties during most of canon????

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

oh my god i never finished making my wiwi shirt

[vraska-theunseen]

HOW IS THIS MOTHERFUCKER STILL KICKING

[sri-rachaa]

Y’all ever make scenarios for characters in your head that are sad to the point where you make yourself cry?

[queer-ecopunk]

So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

[beatleshalloween]

A sad but sweet future tale of Paul and Ringo, the last surviving Beatles.

[alpha-mag-media]

Men in Black star Mike Nussbaum dies aged 99 | December 24, 2023 at 06:08AM

Men in Black star Mike Nussbaum dies aged 99 Read More … Check full articles at Source: ALPHA MAG

[mx-paint]

.

[sayruq]

Dear President Biden and Vice President Harris, We are 99 American physicians, surgeons, nurse practitioners, nurses, and midwives who have volunteered in the Gaza Strip since October 7, 2023. Combined, we spent 254 weeks volunteering in Gaza’s hospitals and clinics. We worked with various nongovernmental organizations and the World Health Organization in hospitals and clinics throughout the Strip. In addition to our medical and surgical expertise, many of us have a public health background, as well as experience working in humanitarian and conflict zones, including Ukraine during the brutal Russian invasion. Some of us are veterans and reservists. We are a multifaith and multiethnic group. None of us support the horrors committed on October 7 by Palestinian armed groups and individuals in Israel.

We are among the only neutral observers who have been permitted to enter the Gaza Strip since October 7. Given our broad expertise and direct experience of working throughout Gaza we are uniquely positioned to comment on several matters of importance to our government as it decides whether to continue supporting Israel’s attack on, and siege of, the Gaza Strip. Specifically, we believe we are well positioned to comment on the massive human toll from Israel’s attack on Gaza, especially the toll it has taken on women and children.

This letter and the appendix show probative evidence that the human toll in Gaza since October is far higher than is understood in the United States. It is likely that the death toll from this conflict is already greater than 118,908, an astonishing 5.4% of Gaza’s population. Our government must act immediately to prevent an even worse catastrophe than what has already befallen the people of Gaza and Israel. A ceasefire must be imposed on the warring parties by withholding military support for Israel and supporting an international arms embargo on Israel and all Palestinian armed groups. We believe our government is obligated to do this, both under American law and International Humanitarian Law. We also believe it is the right thing to do.

With only marginal exceptions, everyone in Gaza is sick, injured, or both. This includes every national aid worker, every international volunteer, and probably every Israeli hostage: every man, woman, and child. While working in Gaza we saw widespread malnutrition in our patients and our Palestinian healthcare colleagues. Every one of us lost weight rapidly in Gaza despite having privileged access to food and having taken our own supplementary nutrient-dense food with us. We have photographic evidence of life-threatening malnutrition in our patients, especially children, that we are eager to share with you. Virtually every child under the age of five whom we encountered, both inside and outside of the hospital, had both a cough and watery diarrhea. We found cases of jaundice (indicating hepatitis A infection under such conditions) in nearly every room of the hospitals in which we served, and in many of our healthcare colleagues in Gaza. An astonishingly high percentage of our surgical incisions became infected from the combination of malnutrition, impossible operating conditions, lack of basic sanitation supplies such as soap, and lack of surgical supplies and medications, including antibiotics. Malnutrition led to widespread spontaneous abortions, underweight newborns, and an inability of new mothers to breastfeed. This left their newborns at high risk of death given the lack of access to potable water anywhere in Gaza. Many of those infants died. In Gaza we watched malnourished mothers feed their underweight newborns infant formula made with poisonous water. We can never forget that the world abandoned these innocent women and babies. We urge you to realize that epidemics are raging in Gaza. Israel’s continued, repeated displacement of the malnourished and sick population of Gaza, half of whom are children, to areas without running water or even toilets available is absolutely shocking. It was and remains guaranteed to result in widespread death from viral and bacterial diarrheal diseases and pneumonias, particularly in children under the age of five. Indeed, even the dreaded polio virus has reemerged in Gaza due to a combination of systematic destruction of the sanitation infrastructure, widespread malnutrition weakening immune systems, and young children having missed routine vaccinations for nearly an entire year. We worry that unknown thousands have already died from the lethal combination of malnutrition and disease, and that tens of thousands more will die in the coming months, especially with the onset of the winter rains in Gaza. Most of them will be young children. Children are universally considered innocents in armed conflict. However, every single signatory to this letter saw children in Gaza who suffered violence that must have been deliberately directed at them. Specifically, every one of us who worked in an emergency, intensive care, or surgical setting treated pre-teen children who were shot in the head or chest on a regular or even a daily basis. It is impossible that such widespread shooting of young children throughout Gaza, sustained over the course of an entire year is accidental or unknown to the highest Israeli civilian and military authorities.

[determinate-negation]

ridiculous how many people are just taking it as just "secret new york jew tunnels" when the reality is so much funnier. the messiah is alive and 122 years old but he pretended to die 30 years ago, we need to dig a tunnel to fuck with the 99% of fake fans who claim to support him but believe slanders like "he died from natural causes at age 92" and "if he's still around why has nobody heard from him since 1994"

yeah people are like “hmm what are the secret jew tunnels for 🤔 why does no one know” but we do know and the answer is more mundane and also crazier than captures the average american because its like the internal religious politics of chabad and the really weird messianic movement associated with them. its soo funny but its starting to just get depressing seeing like protocols of the elders of zion type shit promoted constantly on twitter about the tunnels (truly completely gone to shit as a website) because people seeing it passively just dont understand anything about how the hasidim are in nyc or how this city is. like the guys who dug the tunnels, which u may see referred to as bocherim (young unmarried men who are in religious studies) are like bachelors or frat guys who deeply believe in an esoteric messianic sect its not talmudic ritual child trafficking tunnels that all the world leaders meet at. chabad is probably downplaying how significant this sect is at least in nyc but again this isnt a conspiracy everyone whos been here knows this

[kaleidoscope-vol2]

RIP - Bob Barker has died at the age 99.

[runariya]

Crash Course in Love • 1

pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!female reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, Namjoon's a snack, smoking, brief mentions of drugs, OC and JK are petty af, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.2k

a/n: Part 1 is finally here 🎉 This fic is going to be my comfort story. It's relaxed for me but also quite new in the way I'm telling it and the length. I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I do writing it 💕

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 02

You’ve never been much of a risk taker. That’s just not who you are. You've always believed in playing it safe, thinking it’s better to be cautious than to end up regretting a choice. But living that way has meant you’ve missed out on the grand adventures that others your age fondly reminisce about. In fact, this cautious attitude is exactly what ended your last relationship.

Jungkook, your ex, was the definition of a thrill-seeker, the kind of adventurer you read about in stories. He thrived on excitement, and in the beginning, he managed to pull you into his world, convincing you to join him on his smaller adventures. You’d go camping with him or ride along on his motorcycle. It wasn’t much, but for you, it felt like a lot. You were doing things you’d never willingly do on your own. For him, though, it wasn’t enough. And you knew that. So, rather than holding him back any more than you already had with your shy, introverted, no-risks-please kind of persona, you ended things.

Did you regret it? Both yes and no. Yes, because letting go of the love of your life hurt more than anything. And no, because you knew it meant Jungkook could finally live the way he always wanted, without restraint. Watching him happy, embracing life to its fullest, was what you wanted for him. But when he decided to travel the world right after the breakup—the thing you two had dreamed of doing together—it stung deeply.

Jungkook had always been the rational one, even if he was emotional at times. He understood why you made the decision you did, and though it hurt him as much as it did you, there was nothing more to say. When your words were final, that was it.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop yourself from checking in on him, stalking his social media to see him living his best life. Each post only made you feel worse, insecure about the choices you’d made. So, in a moment of frustration, you decided to turn things around. You would live on the edge, too. You’d make "risky" your new middle name.

You started small. Baby steps. You poured your glass of water right up to the brim, nearly overflowing, and then picked it up to drink, knowing full well there was a 99% chance you’d spill it. But you didn’t care. You lived dangerously now, and besides, hydration is key.

Next, you let your phone battery drop to 1%, watching the screen dim, your palms sweaty with the urge to just plug it in. But you resisted, holding out until it died completely. Of course, you rushed to charge it afterward, but you’d never admit that part.

Things escalated. You started crossing the street when the walk sign only had five seconds left, sprinting to the other side like a madwoman, just barely making it before the light changed.

But what really pushed you over the edge was seeing Jungkook’s latest post: him, laughing and carefree, with an unfamiliar woman by his side.

That’s when you signed up for skydiving, bungee jumping, and even got your motorcycle license. It was fun—really fun. But doing it all alone felt hollow. Without someone to share those experiences with, the thrill didn’t last long.

As winter approached, you found yourself at your cousin Yoongi’s apartment, practically begging him to join you on your latest venture—a two-week stay at a ski hostel to learn snowboarding.

“I’m not doing shit,” he said flatly, not even looking up from the couch.

“Pretty, pretty please, Yoongs.” You threw your best puppy-dog eyes at him, hoping for a miracle. Kneeling on his carpet, which was nowhere near plush enough to make this comfortable, you added, “I’ll do almost anything you want if you come with me. Pleeeeeease.”

“Everything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost everything,” you clarified.

“Nah, I’m not going. Leave me alone.”

At that, you got up and threw yourself onto the couch beside him, clinging to his arm like a child. You put your face right up next to his, pouting dramatically. “Pwease, Yoongi oppa?”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” he said, surly grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, but only if you come with me! You won’t have to spend a cent. I’ve already paid for everything. Please, please, please.”

Yoongi sighed, and you could see him starting to waver, shooting you the occasional side-eye. “You’ll cover everything?”

“Everything,” you repeated, your eyes sparkling as you sensed victory.

“Fine.”

“Yesssss! I love you!” You kissed his cheek loudly, and he shoved you away with exaggerated disgust, though you knew he secretly enjoyed the affection. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4 a.m. Pack your bags!”

“4 a.m.?” he groaned.

“Yup! See you then! Bye!”

“I never agreed to go that early! Hey, no! Wait—”

But you were already halfway out the door, knowing that if you stuck around to hear any more complaints, he’d change his mind in an instant.

Day 0

"I'm sure it's here... somewhere," you mumble desperately, trying to navigate your small, old car through the frosty streets of this tiny town. It's not that you're a bad driver, but Tony—your car, named after Iron Man—is getting on in years. With no power steering, driving these treacherous roads is far from enjoyable. Especially with a grumpy, moody Yoongi sitting beside you, not letting you think for a minute.

"I doubt that. You've got us stranded somewhere civilisation hasn't even reached."

"Oh, come on, I know it's here. And it's not as desolate as you're making it out to be! We saw another car, like, 20 minutes ago."

But Yoongi's right. You're no longer sure if you're heading in the right direction. Your phone died hours ago, leaving you without navigation, and there's been no sign of life for miles. You're hoping for a miracle—or at least that your memory of the route isn’t completely off—because the petrol’s running low. You've turned off the heater in the hopes of making it to the hostel without having to walk, but that means you’re both freezing, and Yoongi’s seconds away from murdering you. Not that there’s much left of your blood to spill, as the cold has probably frozen it solid by now.

"I regret agreeing to this, you know?"

"You've told me that already. Like, four times in the last... what? Five minutes?" Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you can’t help but silently agree with Yoongi, calling yourself all sorts of names for coming up with yet another idea that’s entirely out of character for you.

"And I'll keep saying it until we arrive. If we ever do." Yoongi’s breath fogs up as he speaks, and when Tony stutters—a sign that it’s running out of petrol or sheer willpower—you feel like you’re about to cry.

The snow hasn’t let up, towering in piles along the narrow street that seems to climb uphill endlessly. At this point, you’re not only terrified of being stranded but of Tony giving out and sliding all the way back down. All you can do is pray. Pray that this journey turns out better than it started, because, frankly, there’s not much that could make it worse.

"Wait, can you see that building?" You lean forward, nearly pressing your nose against the steering wheel, squinting to get a better look at the dark, blurred shape in the distance. Your windscreen wipers are losing their battle against the snow and frost, getting stuck midway, making visibility even worse. "Can you read the sign?"

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible as you both roll down your windows simultaneously, peering outside—not because it isn’t cold enough already, but because there’s no way to keep driving with a snow-covered windscreen. The freezing air and snow immediately assault your face, biting at your cheeks, nose, and everything else. Your nose starts running mercilessly, your eyes sting with tears that freeze on your lashes, making it nearly impossible to keep them open.

Yoongi’s not faring much better. His short hair, while practical, leaves his ears exposed to the cold, turning them bright red in an instant. Yet somehow, he’s still able to swear profusely—though you’re not sure if it’s aimed at you or the weather.

"It says ‘dinosaur,’" he spits out into the biting air. 

"Yes! It’s ‘Dionysos!’ We’re here! I told you we weren’t lost." You regret smiling immediately, as the cold stabs at your teeth, making you fear they’ll shatter into a million pieces.

"Just park the fucking car."

As you manage to crest the hill, a small but beautiful town comes into view, beginning with the quaint little hostel you booked. And after you parked Tony right in front or it, you somehow manage to force the car windows back up, the frozen mechanisms protesting all the way with deafening screams. But you don’t care. With aching, frost-bitten limbs, you leap out of the car, grab your bags from the boot, and bolt inside the hostel, Yoongi practically bulldozing past you to get in.

Your arrival is marked by a tiny bell hanging over the entrance. While it’s not Christmas yet, the decorations for the advent season are in full swing. But most importantly, it’s warm. So wonderfully warm that you can’t help but take a deep breath, letting the heat thaw you from the inside out, as you discreetly wipe your nose on your sleeve.

"Oh, hey!" A man behind the reception desk greets you immediately. His glasses sit low on his nose, and a ridiculous Christmas jumper stretches across his tall frame.

"Hi! I’ve booked a room for two weeks. It’s under the name..." 

Before you can finish, the man interrupts, saying your name. You glance warily at Yoongi, who, as expected, doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s already parked himself by the fireplace, looking like a cat forced to endure the cold for far too long.

"You’re our only guest this season." The man laughs uncomfortably, clearly sensing your suspicion.

"Oh." That’s all you manage, throwing another helpless glance at Yoongi, who remains completely uninterested.

"Yeah, I can’t compete with all the amenities that new hotel chain offers," he adds with a shrug.

"Oh! That’s a shame." You step forward, genuinely sorry to hear about the plight of small businesses, struggling to survive against the corporate giants.

"It is what it is. But I’m glad to have you here." He flashes you a dimpled smile, his perfectly aligned teeth momentarily dazzling you. "My name’s Namjoon, by the way. I’ll be your landlord, caretaker, cook, and whatever else you need during your stay. Just let me know, and I’ll make it happen."

You shake his hand, startled by how cold your fingers still are. "Thank you so much, Namjoon! You already know my name, but this grump glued to your fireplace is Yoongi."

"Honeymoon?" Namjoon asks, with a teasing grin.

"Ew, no." Yoongi’s voice drips with disgust, and he doesn’t even flinch under your glare.

"What he means is, no, we’re cousins, spending the holidays together."

"Forced to spend—"

"Willingly."

"Threatened to—"

"Shut up, you agreed! Don’t make me look like an idiot."

"You nearly killed us."

"Oh, I did not! Stop lying."

Namjoon clears his throat, cutting off your bickering. You both turn to him sheepishly, like children being scolded by a parent. Your cheeks are burning, not just from the warmth but from the embarrassment of your argument.

"I’ll give you a tour of the place, then?" Namjoon offers, smiling warmly.

"Yes, please," you reply, eager to move past the awkwardness as soon as possible. 

Yoongi struggles to tear himself away from the fireplace, but eventually, both of you follow Namjoon, who remains all smiles despite your rather unorthodox arrival.

“So, this is the main area. You can relax by the fireplace whenever you like—it’s lit all the time,” Namjoon says, glancing at Yoongi, who still seems transfixed by the flames. “To the left are the rooms. There are only three, and yours is at the far end. I took the liberty of choosing the honeymoon suite because, well… you know what I thought. But honestly, it’s the best room here, so it’s no big deal.”

You swallow the urge to ask if it’s possible to have two separate rooms, but you’re running low on cash. Since you’ve become Yoongi’s unofficial sponsor for this trip, two rooms are out of the question. You just hope Yoongi has somehow outgrown his relentless snoring from childhood because, God forbid, you’ll be at your wit’s end if he ruins your sleep for two whole weeks.

“And to the right is my private room and the dining area. Any allergies I should know about?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” you and Yoongi reply in unison, sounding like textbook tourists. Not that you aren’t, but you’d rather it wasn’t so obvious.

“That’s good to hear. These days, everyone seems to have some kind of allergy or gut problem. I really don’t want to have to drive you to the hospital; it’s quite a distance from here…”

Namjoon stops mid-sentence, realising he’s rambling. You’re still standing there, bags in hand, coats on, now sweating from the warmth. You can only hope your body doesn’t rebel from the extreme change in temperature.

“This way, please,” Namjoon says, leading you towards your room. He swings the door open ceremoniously with an old-fashioned key in hand, and you and Yoongi follow, your heavy boots and coats disrupting the otherwise serene, festive atmosphere.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmurs, and it’s truly a sight that will stay with you forever.

It isn’t the room itself that takes your breath away, but the view. The wall facing the mountains is made entirely of glass, offering an uninterrupted view of the snow-covered slopes from peak to base. The storm has lessened without you noticing, revealing thick, heavy snowflakes gently falling, while the sun breaks through the grey clouds that shadowed your entire journey.

You watch as skiers and snowboarders carve their way down the mountainside, zigzagging effortlessly through the untouched snow. At the foot of the mountain, families are building snowmen and riding sleighs, laughter and joy visible even from this distance. It’s in moments like these, during those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, that your thoughts drift back to Jungkook. You find yourself wishing that things had turned out differently, that he could be here to share this with you.

You shouldn’t feel sad about it. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him, especially when he’s clearly moved on. Your relationship feels as distant and forgotten as a book written centuries ago—once beautiful, overflowing with fairytales too good to be true, but now irrelevant, no longer suited to withstand the test of time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present, and for that, you’re grateful. Yoongi wouldn’t understand your feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t indulge your nostalgia over a past relationship—especially because it was your first and last. 

“It is. Thank you for giving us this room, Namjoon. It’s more than I ever expected.”

Yoongi tosses his bag onto the floor by the bed, shrugs off his coat and shoes, and immediately flops onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the view.

“No worries, really. There’s a phone and a card with my number on it by the nightstand. If you need anything, come to reception. If I’m not there, knock on my door—I’m happy to help.”

Namjoon’s kindness and humility stir something in you. He’s incredibly good-looking, tall, and there’s something about his calm and friendly manner that makes you feel at ease. As he smiles at you, his dimples showing, you wonder if perhaps you might let yourself indulge in him a little—let him be the warmth you’ve been missing.

But for now, you’ll settle in. Let the next two weeks pass without forcing anything. You want to be swept up in whatever comes your way. 

“I’m really happy I booked with you, Namjoon. You’ve been so kind, and this room is perfect. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.”

Your eyes linger on his for a moment longer than you’d admit was necessary, and you seize the opportunity to ask him a few more questions just to keep looking at him. 

“So, I booked a snowboarding course through you. That starts tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, the instructor’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too but won’t arrive until right before your lesson. You booked the classes for a full week, correct?”

“Yeah, I thought a week would be enough, and we’ll practice on our own after that.”

“That should work well. He’s great at what he does and an excellent teacher. But if you need more help, he’ll still be around for the rest of your stay.”

“That’s good.” You’re only half-listening. Namjoon’s dimples and kind eyes are distracting you too much to focus on his words.

“Oh, before I forget—anything in town worth seeing? I’d love to stroll around today since we’ve got no schedule.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Yoongi mutters, his voice dripping with boredom, but neither you nor Namjoon pay him any attention.

“Hm, there’s not a lot, but you should visit ‘Jimin’s Pastries.’ He supplies my bread, and his pastries and coffee are to die for.”

“That sounds perfect. I think I’ll check it out straight away—I’m starving,” you say with a bashful laugh. “You coming?” You ask Yoongi coldly, knowing the answer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. So, how do I get there?” Immediately you turn back to Namjoon.

“I could show you?”

There’s a slight hesitance in Namjoon’s offer, but it only makes him more endearing. You smile genuinely, feeling a little more charmed than you’d like to admit. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great, let’s go then.” His easy-going nature doesn’t falter, even when Yoongi calls after you, “Bring me back some food!”

There’s no need to answer; the door to the room has already closed behind you, leaving Yoongi behind as well.

“I’ll just need to fetch my coat real quick.”

You follow Namjoon to the reception, your eyes drawn to the way his hips move with each step, the subtle flexing right in front of you. It’s not as if you objectify every attractive man you meet, but Namjoon clearly takes care of himself, and there’s nothing you can really do. After all, you’re no saint, and Namjoon is definitely one of those reasons you’ll never take a vow of celibacy.

He doesn’t take long to return, emerging from his room with a rather thin coat hugging his body, making you feel a little ridiculous in your thick down jacket. But there’s no way you’re changing now.

Ever the gentleman, Namjoon holds the hostel door open for you with a small smile, and you thank him silently as the bell above the door chimes again softly. You don’t let your thoughts drift too far—don’t let them wander back to that time when Jungkook told you he always thought he’d meet his soulmate when he heard a bell the first time he saw them.

Because you’re sure that’s just folklore, just a whimsical story, something for entertainment. And even though Namjoon seems like someone nice you could spend time with, the fanciful idea that he might be your soulmate because of a little bell is absurd.

Outside, the cold hasn’t let up one bit, though the storm and heavy snowflakes have finally ceased. But this time, you welcome the chill, grateful for the contrast to the stifling heat of the hostel and the layers you’re bundled in.

You walk side by side, heading deeper into the small town, and now that the air is clearer, you notice fairy lights strung across the street, bare trees decorated with quaint Christmas ornaments, and every house and shop adorned for the season.

“So, how long have you been running the hostel?” you ask, unwilling and not comfortable nor confident enough to let the silence stretch for too long, opting for small talk that feels so much more safer.

“It’s been a few years now. I took over when my father couldn’t run it anymore.”

“That’s a responsible thing to do. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but Namjoon’s hair isn’t black at all. Now, as the sunlight reflects off his soft-looking strands, you realise it’s a dark brown, making him look much younger.

“He is.” Namjoon smiles bashfully, glancing down briefly as though to hide a slight blush. “I just hope I can keep things going as well as he did.”

“I’m sure you will. The place is lovely.”

“Thanks. But what’s really lovely is Jimin’s, which is right here.”

Namjoon gestures towards a small shop you hadn’t noticed before, stopping just a short walk from the hostel. You realise now that everything in this tiny town is within easy reach, which you find very convenient.

And he’s right, ‘Jimin’s Pastries’ looks jut as charming as the hostel. The building is old but beautifully restored, its large windows inviting you in without detracting from its historic charm, as though it’s withstood the test of time. The large windows must be new, but you suspect the struts are original, as is the interior you can spot from outside, and it makes you marvel at it instantly.

Namjoon leads the way inside, once again opening the door for you to step through first. Again, a soft chime rings above the door, and the first thing you see is a man behind the counter, slightly shorter than Namjoon, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, his eyes crinkling into crescents, making him look oh-so-youthful and impossibly welcoming.

“Hey, hyung! Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” the man asks brightly, his voice as musical as a singer’s.

“This is ___, she’s my guest for the next two weeks. ___, this is Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please, take a seat, make yourself at home! Namjoon, the usual?”

“Yeah, and some of your magic pastries. We’re starving, right?” Namjoon offers you a seat after taking your heavy coat, which you accept with a shy smile, feeling unaccustomed to such attentiveness.

“Yes, that sounds great. Thank you.”

“And what would you like to drink, ___?”

You squint up at the menu hanging above the counter while Namjoon takes his seat across from you after putting your coats on a rack near the entrance, but Jimin doesn’t give you much time to decide.

“Oh wait, I’ll bring you my special.”

With that, he sets to work, moving quickly around like a busy bee, and you take the opportunity to absorb and soak in the cosy, homey atmosphere.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Namjoon whispers over the sound of coffee beans being ground, leaning in slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

“It is. Thank you for showing me this place. I can’t wait to try everything—it all looks so delicious.”

The display of cakes and sweets is overwhelming, filled to the brim. The macarons, in particular, seem to call out to you, their bright colours practically begging to be tasted, looking almost too perfect to be real, knowing that you have to try them.

“I hope you like it as much as I do, or else I won’t know what to serve you for breakfast.”

You can’t help but giggle with Namjoon, his demeanour so warm and charming it’s impossible not to feel at ease.

“Here you go!” Jimin sings as he walks over with a tray nearly overflowing with pastries, balancing so many that even if you hadn’t eaten in days, you’re sure that there would still be leftovers. But you you’re not about to complain, secretly pleased you’ll get to taste almost everything on offer.

“The usual for Mister NJ, and here’s yours, beautiful,” Jimin winks cheekily, handing you a cup of coffee off the tray. You try to suppress the shy blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s really been a while since anyone’s flirted with you like this, and even if it’s maybe just playful, it’s not unwelcome, but simply unexpected.

“Thank you.”

You’re a bit surprised when Jimin pulls up a chair to sit between you and Namjoon, but thinking about it, it makes sense. There are no other customers at the moment, shop being completely empty except for you three, and it’s clear he’s close friends with Namjoon. Besides, you don’t mind; in fact, it’s comforting to be making these friendly connections, especially if you’re going to be here for two whole weeks. Maybe if these two weeks go well, you could see yourself coming back here one day.

Sensing the expectant looks from both men, their eyes flicking between your face and the cup of coffee in your hands, you finally take a sip—and are immediately thrown back to memories of Jungkook. The momentary peace you’d found is shattered as the familiar taste hits you. The coffee is good, wonderful even, just as perfect as you expected from Jimin’s first impression, but it tastes exactly like how Jungkook used to make it for you, though serving it in a normal cup seems rather…interesting now. 

But Once, you loved the aftertaste of sweet iced Americano, loved the aftertaste after Jungkook had put his lips on yours. But now you’re alone. Now, you’re without him, and there’s nothing you can do but swallow it down, hoping your expression doesn’t give you away—hoping they don’t see how broken you really are and that you’re lying. Lying that you’re not stuck in an all time low for years now, lying that you’re not trying to fix your pride since.

“Wow, it tastes amazing!” 

But both men jut blink at you now, and it’s only then that you realise your hands are trembling slightly, and that the smile you’ve tried so hard to put on doesn’t feel as genuine as you’d hoped.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s uneasy in an instant, his brow creasing. “Don’t you like it? Would you prefer something else?”

They both look rather too concerned for their own goods now. Jimin, too, tries to take the cup from your hands, but you hold it closer to you. It’s kind of sweet how strangers seem so empathetic towards you, and it somehow soothes the ache in your chest, even if it’s only a little, but not quite enough to make you forget.

“No! It’s perfect. I swear. It’s just that it reminds me of someone who’s no longer in my life.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Namjoon stretches out his hand, resting it gently on your lower arm with sad eyes.

“No! Oh gosh, no, it’s my ex. He’s alive, we just broke up.”

While Namjoon’s face falls into an embarrassed, crooked smile, taking his hand away, Jimin’s lights up like the fairy lights outside in the dawn. He wastes no time sliding closer to you, his wooden chair squeaking lightly on the tiled floor. 

“Oh, tell me about it. Was it recent?”

You want to say yes, because even though it’s been a while since the split, it still feels like it was just hours ago. But at the same time, the time spent apart from Jungkook feels like an eternity, too unbearable to survive, really.

“Uhm, no, it’s been years, actually.”

And that shifts the whole room into chaos. Jimin doesn’t miss a beat before suggesting, “You just need to get properly dicked down, one good time.”

Namjoon looks even more embarrassed, trying in vain to get Jimin to shut up, while you sit there watching them argue about whether or not Jimin’s suggestion is the right way to help you forget your ‘scruffy ex’—his words, not yours or Namjoon’s.

“Actually, I’m not really interested in finding someone new at the moment.”

“See! I told you! Just let her be!” Namjoon leans back in his chair with a proud, triumphant smile on his face, crossing his arms as if he’s known you for years, which, obviously, he doesn’t. His glasses slide down his nose, making him look less convincing than he should.

“Oh, shut up, she just doesn’t know it yet. Maybe we could set her up with C. I think they’d look cute together.”

“I don’t know, man, you’re kind of right, but he’s not looking for anyone either.”

“That’s perfect! Wait, tell me something about yourself, I need to check if you’d vibe with him.” Jimin again leans in close, his elbows resting on the table between you, hands framing his chiseled jawline as he looks at you with sparkling, excited eyes.

You’re not sure what’s just happened, or who this ‘C’ is. And especially, you’re unsure how to answer the request to ‘tell them something about yourself’. Do you tell them about the introverted self you once were or maybe still are deep down? Your default so to say? Or do you describe the ‘new’, in your opinion uncomfortable self you’re desperately trying to become? At this point, you’re not even sure who you are, and the realisation exhausts you more than the drive here did.

“I…hm…I’m more the type of person who’s calm and doesn’t like a lot of adventures or risky things. So, I don’t think there’s really anyone out there who could handle that.” Yeah, great way to spark someone’s interest—talking down on yourself should definitely be added to your list of traits.

“Oh, that’s perfect. C’s been out of his mind for years. He definitely needs someone to balance him out. The dude’s mental.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, eyes flickering between Namjoon and Jimin. If he’s mental, why would Jimin want you to get involved with him? You’ve got enough of your own problems; babysitting a potential partner is the last thing you want to do.

“Oh no, he’s not mental mental, just a bit too reckless. He’s searching for something no one really understands. I reckon he’s just looking for love, or to be loved, but he’s obviously not finding it.”

“Oh... I see…” You nod vaguely, trying to piece together the information being thrown at you without getting whiplash. “But, uh, who is C, exactly?”

“He’s your snowboard instructor, actually,” Namjoon chimes in. From the look on his face, he’s completely on board with Jimin’s idea as well.

“And his name is C?”

“We call him that. It’s short for BSC, which is short for Babystarcandy.” Jimin beams at you, as if this explanation makes perfect sense.

“I reckon that’s not his actual name?” You deadpan.

“Gosh, no! That would be ridiculous.” Jimin waves his hands exaggeratedly while Namjoon chuckles. “His actual name is—”

The loud ringtone of Namjoon’s phone makes all three of you jump, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” blasting from his coat.

“Sorry, I’ll just get that.” Namjoon stumbles off his chair, tripping over his own feet. He grabs his coat at the last moment, pulling it to the floor with him as the hook breaks under the weight.

“Not again,” Jimin sighs, rubbing his eyes with both hands as he sinks further into his chair. “I swear to God, one day—”

“Why am I calling myself?” Namjoon wonders aloud before quickly answering, “Hello?”

You can’t hear the other side of the conversation from across the room, but Namjoon doesn’t seem confused for long. He responds joyfully, “Of course. We’re heading back now... sure... bye.”

“You’re going to pay for that repair,” Jimin mutters as soon as Namjoon hangs up and gets to his feet, tucking his phone into his trousers and pulling on his coat.

“Of course, I always do. That was Yoongi, by the way. He’s hungry and wants us to bring him food. Sooo, could you pack up all the pastries?”

“Yes, of course!” Jimin jumps up immediately, gathering everything together while you watch longingly as he takes the macarons too. But you’re not too sad—you’ll just gobble them as soon as you’re back in your room.

You stand, finishing your coffee in one go, knowing that even though you can taste the caffeine from how strong it is, it won’t do much once your stomach’s full. You’re simply too knackered after today to stay awake longer than necessary.

“Yoongi called you from your hostel phone?”

“Yeah, he didn’t know another way.”

“I can’t with him; he’s so shameless sometimes.” Namjoon helps you into your coat, a gesture you’d like to get used to again—the simple act is just too sweet not to fall in love with.

“Ah, I don’t mind. I like people like him; they’re always honest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Here come the treats!” Jimin sings as he swings open the door to the back room. The pastries are now securely packed in a paper bag, which he hands to you. “Thanks for coming by, and make sure to come tomorrow too. We’re not done talking, especially after you meet C in person!”

You can’t help but laugh with them both. It’s refreshing to feel joy and fun around you without having to put yourself at risk with some nonsense activity. But if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have met them if it weren’t for that very activity.

“Thanks, Jimin. I appreciate it. And we’ll see if I’m still alive after tomorrow.”

“You will be—C will take good care of you,” Jimin winks again, and with that, the door chime sounds as Namjoon opens it for you. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” you and Namjoon say in unison, stepping into the cold night as the wind bites at your face again. The fairy lights now illuminate the whole street, ornaments reflecting their red and gold hues, looking like something straight out of a film. Children are still up, playing in the snow and running around, while couples stroll along the pavement. 

It’s a scene you wish you could see every day, and as you make your way back to the hostel with Namjoon by your side, you can’t help but glance up at him now and then as he talks about the small details of the town’s history, C and Jungkook momentarily forgotten.

Day 1

You regret bringing Yoongi with you. So much so, you want to cry and never stop.

It’s not like he’s bad company—not all the time, anyway—but sharing a room with him puts everything into perspective. His snoring hasn’t lessened one bit since childhood; in fact, you’re pretty sure it’s gotten worse. There’s no way you’ll get an ounce of rest if you keep sleeping in the same room, so you decide to ask Namjoon at breakfast if there’s any chance you can switch to the other spare room.

Lying awake all night until Yoongi got up at ass o’clock, leaving the room with his laptop and other gear, had you contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made, including the ones yet to come. Isn’t it ridiculous what you’ve got yourself into again? Sure, you’re kind of sporty, but when it comes to risky sports like snowboarding, you’d much rather watch others do it than try it yourself but here you are. 

You’re sure if Jungkook had seen the way you’ve been living these past few years, he’d laugh. Not that he’d ridicule you—he’s not that type—but you’re certain the clown you’ve become would disgust him as much as it disgusts you.

You’re not sure if it’s healthy to still be so hung up on your ex, or if it’s just normal when you’ve lost the love of your life. Normal in the sense that every thought circles back to him, like you’ve taken the fall for some drug called Jeon Jungkook. 

You’ll probably have to search the internet for a rehab clinic that specialises in self-inflicted heartbreak because after this adventure, there’s no way you’re doing anything like this again. Enough is enough. Especially when there’s possibly, just maybe, a potential partner—someone cozy and inviting, like Namjoon—who might actually like you for who you really are.

It’s still early, but you need to get up and grab some breakfast, knowing today’s course will be physically draining if you attempt it on an empty stomach. You’re certain that dragging Yoongi out will take extra time you don’t have to spare. The thought of making a bad first impression on C terrifies you, not only because he’s a stranger, but because, as Namjoon said, he’s coming here just for you.

Groaning, you force yourself out of bed. The room has cooled slightly overnight, which wasn’t a problem under the thick duvet, but now you can’t seem to handle the cold as well as you usually do. Rushing into the en-suite, you’re first greeted by the warmth of the heated floor, and then by the horrifying sight of your reflection.

“Please, don’t,” you plead, as if your reflection could magically change the image of your swollen face, a result of the ridiculous amount of pastries you munched last night. Your dark circles look more like war paint than the result of a restless night—a far cry from a cute quirk.

There’s no point in using much makeup, not when you’re going to be snowboarding—or rather learning how to—all day, so you settle for a bit of concealer. It takes a lot of mental pep talk to leave the blush behind, knowing the cold will soon give you rosy cheeks and a red nose the second you step outside the hostel. 

Getting dressed is a bit easier; you throw on some thermal black gear, braid your hair into two sections, and leave the room in search of either Namjoon or Yoongi.

It’s no surprise to find Yoongi by the fireplace again, empty plate and coffee nearby, but seeing Namjoon beside him—Yoongi clicking away on his laptop while Namjoon raps into a microphone—leaves you speechless. There’s a whole side of Namjoon you hadn’t seen before. Sure, you only met him 12 hours ago, but you never would’ve imagined, in a million years, hearing him angrily spitting line after line. And despite his usual softness, this harshness leaves you nearly gasping for air.

What are you supposed to do? You’ve always had a weak spot for bad boys, men who exude confidence. And Namjoon is definitely giving off that vibe right now.

“Oh baby, what’s your name?”

The whimper that escapes your mouth is so embarrassing, especially when both men look up at you—Namjoon halting mid-rap—that you can’t, for the life of you, figure out what’s wrong with you. Are you really this pathetic, or was Jimin right all along? Maybe you just need a good shag to recalibrate your brain to normal. It’s been years, and considering the state you’re in now, something’s surely got to change.

You muster whatever dignity you have left and greet them as casually as possible, “Good morning.”

Yoongi, ever the ray of sunshine, doesn’t bother turning away from his laptop, clicking away as if you’re just a fly that’s wandered in. But Namjoon? He meets your eyes with a smile that could rival the dawn itself.

“Morning! Ready for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

You’re smitten, and there’s no hiding it as he leads you to the dining area. A table is already set, and you recognise Jimin’s bread in an instant. Knowing how hungry you are after your late-night binge, you waste no time sitting down, your eyes glued to the treats and toppings on offer.

“Fancy a coffee?”

“Black would be perfect!”

“Not a sweet tooth?” Namjoon jokes, pouring you a cup from the thermos flask, the rich aroma battling with the scent of the food.

“Not in the morning.” You smile up at him.

“Probably because you’re sweet enough straight out of bed.”

His wink nearly makes you faint, and it’s clear that while Namjoon’s good with his tongue when rapping, he’s also very smooth with it. You wonder if…

“I guess so,” you mumble, too flustered to look him in the eye now. 

He chuckles quietly and sits opposite you, not bothering to eat himself.

“Not hungry?” you ask, feeling a bit more composed as you distract yourself by preparing your breakfast.

“Nope, I just ate. Just wanted to keep you company.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks. I really hate eating alone, though I do it almost every meal. So, I appreciate it.”

“No worries, I’m happy to keep you company.”

“So, you rap?”

A lazy smirk forms on Namjoon’s face, his head tilted up slightly, and you know full well he’s aware of what he did to your hormones minutes ago. He only hums in confirmation.

Cocky. But you like it, and it suits him. You just hope he’s not too confident—that would be a massive turnoff.

“Side hustle or hobby?”

“Hobby, but Yoongi’s been putting a bee in my bonnet, to be honest.”

“He’s persistent when it comes to talent.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m talented, but he’s a dope producer. I didn’t recognise him at first, but man, I’m lucky to have him here. A literal world star staying in my hostel. I’m gonna have to make a wall of fame or something.”

You snort at that because as ridiculous as it sounds seeing Yoongi on a ‘wall of fame’, Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi is world-famous, though he prefers to keep a low profile, which you admire. Well, most of the time. Him being this tight with the expenses of the trip leaves a bit of a sour taste in your mouth—not caused by the coffee, that’s for sure.

“Are you famous too, by any chance?”

You snort again, “You wish.”

“Shame.”

“Tell me about it. Even though I’m the broke one, I’m still the one sugar-mommying him,” you mumble through your bites, not wanting to waste time without filling your stomach.

Namjoon’s laugh lights up the morning even further, and you’re all too glad you booked this hostel. It would’ve been miserable spending your time alone while Yoongi’s off doing his own thing every chance he gets. 

“Any chance of getting a separate room?”

“Why?”

“I can’t spend another night lying awake because of Yoongi’s snoring.”

You look at each other, and suddenly the inconvenience doesn’t seem as bad as it did all night. Namjoon’s laugh is going to be your secret weak spot from now on.

“Sure, I’ll just move your luggage if you haven’t unpacked yet.”

“That’d be great. Thanks so much.”

“No worries.” Namjoon watches you for a bit while you eat, like it’s the most fascinating thing happening to him.

You don’t mind at all—it’s not awkward—but you can tell you’re running out of time by how slowly you’re eating.

“When do we have to leave? Is C here already?”

“Yeah, he got here a few hours ago but went straight to the slopes. You’ve got a few more minutes. I’ve sorted out some gear for you at Hope’s. He’ll give you everything you need for the week.”

It’s a relief knowing Namjoon has thought of everything, especially since you’re not fond of surprises or poorly planned outings.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“It’s my job, ___.” He winks at you again, and if you weren’t so focused on shovelling food down, you’d probably melt into your seat.

“All done,” you mumble through your last bite, crumbs shamelessly falling as you stand up.

“Perfect timing. I told Yoongi how to get to Hope’s; it’s not far.”

Not wanting to thank him yet again like a broken record, you just nod and follow him to the main room, where Yoongi’s already by the door, waiting. You’re not sure why he’s so eager when he didn’t even want to come in the first place, but you don’t dwell on it as you say goodbye to Namjoon and head out, Yoongi handing you your coat.

The walk to Hope’s? You’re not really sure despite Namjoon mentioning the name twice, but to the guy who runs the ski and snowboard equipment hire shop indeed isn’t far.

As soon as you step into his shop, you’re hit with the sight of all kinds of winter sports gear and old-school rap blaring at full volume—likely coming from some speakers behind the counter where the seller greets you.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Hey, we’re guests of Namjoon and—”

“___ and Yoongi! Of course, Namjoon’s already told me! I’m Hoseok!”

“Weird.”

“Shut up,” you hiss at Yoongi. “That’s perfect. It’s our first time, and there’s no way we’d know what we need.”

“I’ve got you. Just follow me, I’ll start by getting the right boots for you.”

“Thanks.”

There are so many boots in all sorts of colours and sizes that you’re not sure if they’re all for hire or if some are for sale, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way you’re going snowboarding again after these two weeks, so you’d gladly pick whatever’s the comfiest.

Yoongi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share that thought, picking out the most expensive-looking boots. Truth be told, they do look the fanciest, and if you were as loaded as him, you’d go wild too. It’s with a jolt that you remember you’re the one paying for all this, and there’s no way you could afford the ones Yoongi’s holding up to inspect.

“Put them back,” you hiss, slapping his hand, scolding him for being so careless with your expenses.

“Ouch, that’s rude.”

“I’m not paying for them. Put them back before you damage them and I end up bankrupt.”

“So, what sizes do you usually wear?” Hoseok interrupts, completely unfazed by your bickering.

“Seven and a half.”

“Three and a half.”

“Dwarf.”

“Bigfoot.”

“I’ll bring you one size up,” Hoseok says with a smile. “Any particular colour you fancy?”

“Purple.”

“Black.”

“Got it, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you both at the rack, disappearing behind a curtain into the back room.

“Could you stop embarrassing me, please?”

“I didn’t do shit, ___. Stop whining.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Need I remind you I’m doing you a favour here? Where’s the respect?”

“Sorry, oppa,” you bat your eyelashes at him mockingly.

“Say that again and I’m leaving.”

“How? Tony’s petrol’s empty. You’re going to walk home?”

“Bet.”

Just as you roll your eyes, Hoseok returns with two shoeboxes and two helmets, placing them down on a bench.

“I’ve brought you brand new ones. There weren’t many in your sizes I’d be comfortable renting out.”

Yoongi and you sit on opposite sides of the boxes while Hoseok removes the packaging from the new boots. Yours are purple, but just the laces and stitching—the rest is black, which gives them a more grown-up look compared to kids’ shoes. You fall in love with them instantly and eagerly grab one to put it on. But no luck.

Even though they’re fully open, you can’t seem to get your foot inside, despite your efforts. You stomp on the ground, pulling at the boot with both hands, but it’s no use. Yoongi, of course, isn’t struggling at all—typical, he’s good at everything.

“Here, let me help,” Hoseok kneels in front of you, securing your calf and the boot, angling the heel to the floor. “Now stand up and push your foot in.”

You do as he says, and with a soft, satisfying ‘plop’, your foot slides in without a hitch. “Thanks! That was easy!”

You repeat the process with the other boot, tightening the laces and clasps, then stand to take a few steps. You stumble slightly, not used to the weight and bulk of the boots, but soon get the hang of it.

“They need to fit quite snugly. When you’re fully geared up, make sure to fasten them as tight as possible. Otherwise, you’ll go flying, and your board will stay on the snow.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. Yeah, sure.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like the idea or the mental image of being catapulted out of your boots while your snowboard says c’est la vie.

To your amazement, the helmets Hoseok picked for you and Yoongi fit perfectly as well.

“If you’re feeling good, let’s get you sorted with snowsuits, yeah?”

You nod and attempt to follow Hoseok, but Yoongi pulls you back down onto the bench, your ass hitting the hard surface with a rather painful thud.

“Take them off, idiot. How are you going to get a suit on with those still on?”

Ugh… it’s obvious, really, but you’re too stressed and anxious about snowboarding to function properly. It’s in moments like this that you start spiralling, regretting your decision all over again. You’re not sure what gave your thoughts away, but Yoongi seems to notice the shift in your mood, as he rests a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here. Don’t stress.”

You lock eyes with him, and you can see a bit of regret there. It’s normal for you two to bicker and take the piss out of each other, but it’s also normal for you both to care. You love each other, like cousins do, and part of you regrets ever thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing him on this trip. Because honestly, there’s no one else in your life right now you’d rather do this with.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s all good. You’ve got this, okay?”

You just nod, loosening the clasps and laces to take the boots off and helmet, then walk in your socks over to where Hoseok is rummaging through racks of snowsuits.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to get your right sizes and for Yoongi to disappear into the changing room first. You’re not really sure how to start a conversation with him, but thankfully you’re saved by the shop’s phone ringing.

“Excuse me,” Hoseok smiles politely, walking towards the counter where the phone is obviously placed.

“Hope’s, how can I help you?”

You hold the snowboard jacket in front of your chest, admiring its intricate design in the mirror hanging in front of you, trying not to obviously listen in on the call.

“Jaykaaaaay.”

You freeze, the nickname ringing all sorts of alarm bells in your head. There’s no way it’s Jungkook; like, literally, there might be a million other people with that nickname. You need to calm down somehow, because if your anxiety rises any further than it already has, you’re sure you’re going to die from heart failure.

Hoseok’s repeated and drawn-out calling of this nickname doesn’t help in the slightest, and you reckon that if he repeats it one more time, you’d punch him in the face, even though you’re so not the type to be violent. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Thankfully, the cheerful shouts stop, and Hoseok listens in until he locks eyes with you, a smile forming. You try to figure out if all the people in this town have such perfect teeth, if there’s a dentist who works magic, or if everyone just has perfect high-end genetics you could only dream of.

“Yeah, they’re here at the moment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What do Yoongi and you have to do with this phone call?

“Just a few more minutes. I’ll send them to the beginners’ hill when we’re finished, yeah?”

Okay, hold up—it must be the instructor on the other line, and Namjoon and Jimin called him C, but Hoseok just called him Jaykay, which has nothing to do with C nor BSC. Was it even BSC? Anyway. There’s a very real chance that it’s definitely not Jungkook, because, shame on you, you’ve seen him post a picture from Hawaii last night on socials, which, obviously, isn’t here.

You don’t feel the need to ask Hoseok who it was or what’s going on with these multiple nicknames. For all you care, it could be a 50-year-old, and you’re stressing yourself out for nothing. 

Hoseok comes to your side after he’s hung up, and Yoongi emerges at this moment too, though he’s not modelling his snowboard suit but has it draped over his arm.

“Fits,” is all Yoongi says, nodding once in Hoseok’s direction.

“Perfect, now it’s your turn.” Hoseok gestures for you to the changing room, and you don’t waste any more time. The faster you’re out of here, the faster this day is over, and that’s all you want as the snowboarding course gets closer.

“Thanks,” you mumble, searching for Yoongi’s eyes for just a little more reassurance, but he’s already too busy having a normal and civil conversation with Hoseok, something you wish he’d do more often with you. 

There’s not much room in the changing room, especially when the snowboard trousers are this wide and baggy, so you fall against the walls multiple times, trying not to faceplant onto the floor.

“You good?” Hoseok’s voice is heard from outside, and it’s so unbelievably embarrassing realising that Yoongi had no struggle trying the clothes on because there wasn’t a sound coming from him. Not because the walls are thick or soundproof—no, because he’s simply doing well, like every human being should.

“Yeah!” you call, hoping that the high-pitched tone of your voice doesn’t give you away. But who are you kidding? There’s the low but unmistakable giggle and some mumbled words from Yoongi, followed by Hoseok’s shrill laughter.

You’re going to kill Yoongi, going to push him down the hill and watch him become a snowball and crash into the abyss of a glacier. Stupid moron—you should have left him at home and come alone, and the sharp tug of your jacket’s zipper punctuates your resentment perfectly.

The anger fades as fast as it came, because you look like the coolest professional snowboarder on earth. You twist and turn, make a bum-check, but realise there’s not much to see in these oversized clothes. Still, you feel good in them, especially as your body heat multiplies, which is the best sign that you’ll survive all day in the snow.

Knowing you’ll have to leave as soon as you’re finished, you take the jacket off and rip the price tag away. After undoing the trousers and doing the same, you don’t care if the gear is expensive. Even if so, you’d still use it for sledging or in case of a blizzard or something. You’re sure you’ll get creative with its use.

Sipping everything back up, you collect your down jacket and step out of the changing room, not as elegantly as usual, but more with a rustle and a slight swaying due to the fabric. You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your lips, Yoongi and Hoseok looking equal parts amused and approving of your appearance. You’re all going to get a good laugh out of it when you’re wearing the snowboard boots as well, and that’s all you need right now—humour to suppress the anxiety.

Two snowboards are already lined up. Hoseok helps you into the boots again, while Yoongi masters dressing himself like a real grown-up.

“C’s going to adjust the boot holders on the snowboards for you, so you can just take them with you as they are. They fit your height. And you can leave your shoes and jackets here and collect them whenever you’re finished for the day.”

“That’d be great.”

“Thanks, Jwe-Hope.”

You side-eye Yoongi. Why’s he getting soft with Hoseok? And why does he give him yet another nickname, as if the man doesn’t already have enough?

“No prob, Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok says in an exaggeratedly playful tone, while Yoongi dabs him goodbye.

You’re fascinated by how Hoseok managed to melt the ‘Ice King’s’ heart in the few minutes you were away, and it’s even more fascinating how Yoongi just heads for the door without you even having paid yet.

“Yo, wait! I need to pay!”

“Yep, I’m outside having a smoke.”

There’s nothing you can do as Yoongi leaves without even turning back, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I’d like to pay, please.”

Hoseok nods with a smile and you follow him to the register. He scans one tag after the other, the price skyrocketing while your bank account starts to scream in the background. 

“That’ll be 899 dollars,” he beams.

Your smile is wobbly, as is your hand as you hand over your credit card, knowing that this trip will be more expensive than you ever thought.

“Thanks again, Hoseok.”

“No problem, and please call me Hope.”

“Sure, Hope,” you say, securing your credit card in the inner pocket of your jacket. “Have a nice day, and see you later.”

“See ya, bye!” He waves enthusiastically as you head for the door, interrupting Eminem’s Godzilla with your stomping and rattling. How ironic.

Yoongi’s leaning against the shop’s wall as you step outside, just about to take a drag of his cigarette as he notices you glaring at him. Snatching the cigarette from his lips, you take a drag yourself.

“Thought you quit.”

“Give me a break, I need to calm my nerves.”

“Reckon some coke would be better, you’d feel invincible and wouldn’t be scared shitless.”

“Reckon you could just shut up, yeah?”

He just laughs as you give him his cigarette back and make your way to where you assume the slope is.

“This way.”

You stop in your tracks, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. You don’t want to go off at him again; you’ll need every ounce of energy, and wasting it by bickering isn’t the way to go.

Reluctantly, with the snowboard and helmet awkwardly clasped in your hands, you manage to follow Yoongi, though walking on asphalt is rather uncomfortable in these boots, though the walk might be again very short. 

True to that, arriving in a few minutes at the beginner’s hill is a bit sobering. The hill’s neither high nor steep, even kids with sledges would probably call it boring, but you don’t mind one bit. Honestly, it’s perfect for you. No real chance of getting hurt and ending up like one of those cute little animals from Happy Tree Friends.

Off to the side, there’s the lift access and the main slopes, with skiers and snowboarders already queuing up for their first or maybe their nth lift of the day. 

One snowboarder shooting down the steepest hill, which just so happens to be the only one of its kind, catches your attention. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and the way he moves is hypnotic. You can’t help but think he must be a pro, maybe even an Olympian.

“Look! He’s so good.” You point him out to Yoongi, who shifts from looking bored to mildly impressed.

“Why’s he coming our way, though?”

“No way.”

But it’s true. He’s definitely your instructor. And not some fifty-year-old guy, either. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t quite swallow, especially because this guy’s height seems just a little too familiar… maybe too much like Jungkook’s. As far as you remember, at least.

You try to reason with yourself. Tell yourself there’s no way this is happening, because he’s got to be in Hawaii—Instagram stories and TikToks made that pretty clear, playing the role of a drunk uncle on family gatherings who can’t keep personal matters shut. You cling to that thought as the man stops a few feet away from you. You cling to it when he takes off his helmet, revealing just a black balaclava. You cling to it even when his eyes give him away.

But when he pulls off the balaclava, all you’re left with is the crushing realisation that you’re absolutely, without a doubt, screwed.

“Hey.”

Jungkook’s voice hasn’t changed much—maybe it’s a little rougher, could be also just from the cold—but it’s still the sound that makes you want to cry. Or run. Honestly, either would work right now.

His eyes lock onto yours, and all you can do is stare, wide-eyed, as if he’s some unreal figure, like a fairytale character suddenly brought to life.

You’ve watched Jungkook mature over the last few years—not in person, but still. You’ve seen the piercings he’s got and the tattoos currently hidden beneath his gear and gloves, and you’re suddenly more than aware that even though he was perfect back then and you shouldn’t have persuaded him to get piercings and tattoos, he’s become the one man you always knew he would be, if not more.

“S’up,” Yoongi just nodding.

That makes Jungkook glance at him, almost as if he’s only just noticed he’s standing there. A small frown forms on his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, and he holds out his gloved fist for Yoongi to bump.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, your instructor.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“The producer Min Yoongi?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook glances back and forth between you and Yoongi several times, and it dawns on you—he doesn’t know you and Yoongi are cousins. Yoongi was abroad the entire time you were with Jungkook and only came back right after the split, so of course, he never met him. And this… this is something you can work with. Maybe you can use it to keep Jungkook at arm’s length, or at the very least, avoid a complete emotional meltdown if Jungkook’s indeed moved on.

So you laugh softly and link your arm with Yoongi’s, resting your head on his shoulder, who just looks down at you, clearly confused by your sudden affection but, to his credit, says nothing. He knows you well enough to trust there’s a reason behind it.

“___.”

“Jungkook.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s my ex.” Jungkook’s smile isn’t the warm, beautiful one you remember. No, it’s that slightly unhinged smile, the one with his head tilted just so, and it makes you silently gulp.

“That ex?” Yoongi asks, even though he knows full well there’s only one. You reckon he caught on quickly to the game you’re playing.

You hum in agreement, but Jungkook can’t help himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luckily, Yoongi knows how to steer a conversation. “Aren’t we supposed to be learning how to snowboard?”

There’s a brief pause, and you see the way Jungkook’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep, calming breath.

“Yes, sorry. Let’s get started.”

Jungkook bends down to unclip his boots from his board and stands up again, tossing his board into the snow so it sticks upright. Yoongi follows suit, shoving his board into the snow like it’s second nature. You try to copy them but fail miserably, wondering how they made it look so easy when the snow’s this solid.

“Here, let me help.” Yoongi, surprisingly, helps you without his usual snarky comments about your lack of strength.

“Alright,” Jungkook claps once to grab your attention. “Before we get into any of the fancy stuff, let’s talk theory. Snowboarding’s all about awareness. It’s not just physical—you’ve got to keep your head in the game.”

“Awareness? Like, where you’re looking?” Yoongi asks dryly, acting dumb you know he isn’t. 

“Exactly. Where you’re looking, where your body’s pointing,” Jungkook gestures bizarrely between you and himself, barely glancing at Yoongi. “That’s where you’ll go. Simple as that. If you’re distracted—by, say, something or someone—you’ll lose focus. And losing focus means losing control.”

Yoongi, unfazed, just rolls with it, clearly enjoying the little drama Jungkook seems keen to stir up. “Makes sense. Keep your eyes on the path ahead, yeah?”

“Exactly, mate. Eyes forward, always. But it’s more than just looking. It’s feeling the terrain beneath you. Even when you’re standing still, you’re never really still. You need to sense the environment. Be present, y’know?”

You nod, though in reality, you’ve got no clue what he’s talking about.

“Some people, though,” Jungkook continues, “they get distracted easily. Head in the clouds. Or… elsewhere.”

Oh, you’re not letting that slide. Whether he’s jabbing at you, Yoongi, or both, you’re not having it. “Could you just explain the theory without the snide remarks?”

Jungkook’s taken aback, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

You just shake your head, and he carries on.

“Right. Balance—this is key. It’s all about your centre of gravity. Too stiff, and you’ll fall over. Too loose, and you’ll just flop around.”

“Don’t want that, do we?” Yoongi smirks, clearly challenging Jungkook to keep his little act going.

“No, mate, you really don’t. Trust me. You need to find that sweet spot—controlled, but relaxed. Kind of like…” he glances at you, “when you’ve got things under control in your life, but you’re still going with the flow, yeah?”

Your eyes narrow at him, but you bite your tongue. There’s no point in calling him out when Yoongi’s clearly enjoying winding him up.

“Sounds like life advice, that. Keepin’ balance, goin’ with the flow.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Not that everyone takes it to heart.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. You never expected Jungkook to be this petty. He’s the one who moved on first. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Anyway, let’s get warmed up. Let’s do some exercises using the hill.”

You thought that ‘warming up’ would mean some jumping jacks and stretching, but oh, how wrong you are.

Jungkook has you and Yoongi running up and down the beginner’s hill without regret, and honestly, you can now confirm—it’s very much steeper than it looks.

While Jungkook just looks on, you and Yoongi can’t stop laughing and joking about how you are both panting like you’d just run a marathon, earning you multiple scoldings from Jungkook to stay focused. Not that it matters much, considering the only thing worth focusing on was trying to catch your breath—you nearly passed out twice at this point.

Despite Yoongi also being knackered, he still holds up better than you, but you can’t help but to clap him on the ass with a sarcastic “atta girl” more than once, which not only annoys him but seems to make Jungkook’s jaw clench in irritation too.

After what feels like the tenth climb, Jungkook finally calls it, walking towards you. “Enough. Short break.”

You and Yoongi groan in relief, collapsing onto the snow, letting your breathing slow down gradually. Only now, as you lie there exhausted, do you notice how beautiful the day is, the sky almost completely clear of clouds. From the position of the sun, you reckon it’s close to lunchtime, your stomach already growling in gratitude at the thought of food after all this exercise.

Turning your head to the side, you glance over at Yoongi, who’s also lying on the cool snow, admiring the sky. Suddenly, you feel sentimental. You really hit the jackpot having him as a cousin—he’s probably the most reliable person you know. It’s moments like this, especially when he turns to look at you with those soft eyes and that warm smile, that remind you how much you appreciate him. Reaching out, you intertwine your hands, knowing he’ll understand the rare moment of affection and let it happen for once. 

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Anytime.” Yoongi squeezes your hand, his gummy smile spreading across his face, a trait he’s clearly inherited from his dad.

Jungkook’s rather aggressive throat-clearing reminds you that you’re indeed not alone. Your petty ex is standing right there, looking as irritated as he’s been all day.

“Let’s do some stretches, then we’ll get on the boards,” he says, trying to mask his annoyance but clearly fails. 

You and Yoongi drag yourselves up, lining up in front of Jungkook like school kids, who’s about to demonstrate some stretch when, in the distance, someone calls out Jungkook’s nickname—one you’ve found increasingly odd now.

“C!”

There’s a beautiful woman running towards him waving energetically, the same woman you saw in pictures with him on social media.

“Hara!” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up when she��s near, lifting her off the ground as they giggle together.

You’d never admit it, but the sight makes you feel physically sick. You’d rather gouge your eyes out than watch this scene unfold ever again. At least you’ve made Jungkook believe you’re with Yoongi—otherwise, you’re not sure how you’d survive the fresh stab to your heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” she scolds him playfully, tapping his arm while he still holds her hands.

You can’t bear the sight of his eyes sparkling for someone else, so you turn to Yoongi, who’s raising an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you’re okay. There’s no need to respond. You both know the truth—you’re still not over your ex. But what could you have done? Begged him to take you back before he found someone else? No. That’s not who you are, and you wouldn’t have stopped him from living the life he clearly enjoys now.

But seeing him today, seeing how hurt he is just by the sight of you—or rather, you with someone else—makes you uneasy. Especially when Hara is being overly affectionate with him.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Hara.” She turns to you, extending her delicate hand. You briefly consider ignoring her, but you decide to be the bigger person. Unlike Jungkook, who’s been cold all day, you take off your glove and shake her hand, introducing yourself politely. Take that, Jungkook.

She moves on to Yoongi, and after he introduces himself, her face lights up like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh my God! I’m such a fan! You’re, like, the best producer ever!” she gushes, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to burst out laughing at the sour expression on Jungkook’s face.

You: 2, Jungkook: 0.

“Really?” you ask with a mischievous grin, keen to twist the knife further. “Oppa, you should definitely sign something for her, don’t you think?”

Yoongi shoots you a look that could kill, but he simply smiles, his eyes betraying all the curses he’s silently aiming at you. “Of course.”

Still clutching Yoongi’s hand like it’s a lifeline, Hara turns her head back to Jungkook. “Oh my God! Did you hear that, C?”

“I heard,” Jungkook replies through gritted teeth. “Why are you out here in the cold, by the way?”

“Oh, right. I came to tell you that Namjoon’s arranged lunch at Tae’s.”

“That’s nice of him,” you sing sweetly, unable to resist adding a little extra honey to your voice. Everyone else gets your praise, everyone but Jungkook. Maybe you’re just as petty as he is, but you’re not backing down now, especially not when you can see his patience fraying by the second, his eyes dark with annoyance. A reaction is a reaction at this point. 

“Oh, and before I forget,” Hara continues, turning and clinging to Jungkook’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him, “can you pretty, pretty please come to Jin’s tonight and tomorrow? We need help getting everything ready for the party in two days.”

It’s odd seeing Jungkook so easily swayed by her, the kind of behaviour you never thought he’d entertain. But maybe he’s changed, or maybe you never knew him as well as you thought.

“Sure, anything for you.”

Yep, you’re definitely going to throw up in the snow.

“What party?” Yoongi pipes up, earning himself a mental kick from you. There’s no way you’re attending a party where Jungkook will be.

“An early Christmas party! You’re both invited, of course. From what I’ve heard from Jimin and Namjoon, you two fit right in with everyone here,” she giggles.

For once, you and Jungkook seem to be on the same page, as he starts, “I’m sure they’ve got better—”

But for what feels like the hundredth time today, Yoongi interrupts, “No, we’d love to come. Thanks for inviting us.”

That crazy smile Jungkook had earlier is now plastered across your face as you look at Yoongi. Despite the silent argument raging between you two, you can’t help but trust him. Whatever plan he’s concocting, you have no idea, but you’re sure he’ll fill you in when you’re back at the hostel, alone.

For now, though, you trust him, because what else can you do?

"Let’s head to Tae’s then."

“With the boards?” you ask dumbly, because there’s no way you’re carrying your board across town.

“No, just leave it here and see what happens.” Jungkook smiles, a grin that instantly vanishes when Hara punches his chest.

“What’s with you? Be kind.”

“Sorry, noona.”

Ooh. So he’s with an older woman. Who’d have thought? It shouldn’t get under your skin this much, but it’s been a crap day, hell, even some crap years, and there’s nothing you can do to undo every thrilling experience you wish you hadn’t gone through because of him.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi mutters, grabbing not just his snowboard but yours too. If there’s one thing you could do to repay him for this gesture, it’d be to name him the sole recipient in your will. Not that you’ve got much to leave behind, but the thought counts, right?

You hadn’t expected ‘Tae’s’ to be a cabin on the slopes nearby, nor did you think it’d be a luxurious home rather than a restaurant. As you approach the door, you’re impressed—there’s no sign of it being some kind of inn as Hara rings the bell.

It doesn’t take long for someone to open the door, wearing nothing but some slacks and an open bathrobe, showing off his tanned, chiselled chest.

“C!”

“Tae!”

The two men pull each other into a bear hug, patting each other’s backs like they’re trying to knock the wind out of each other. Male friendships—you’ll never get them, and honestly, you’re glad you were born a woman with every violent tap. 

When they part and Tae gives Hara a few friendly kisses on the cheek, you notice she’s just as comfortable with him as she is with Jungkook. Odd.

Then Tae turns to greet you and Yoongi. His eyes widen when he spots Yoongi, and a huge, boxy smile spreads across his face, so wide it looks like his face might split.

“Hyung!”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi replies, sounding strangled as he gets crushed in the taller man’s arms.

You’re torn between being amused by the visible disgust on Yoongi’s face as he’s squashed against Taehyung’s bare chest or offended that Yoongi never mentioned he knows someone who lives here.

“Please let me go.”

“Sorry, hyung, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Good.”

“Ah, I’m doing well too, hyung, I’ve missed you.”

“I can tell.”

It’s amusing how Jungkook and Hara are a bit thrown off by Yoongi’s coldness, but as far as you can tell, both you and Taehyung know it’s just Yoongi being his little ray of sunshine. He’s genuinely happy to see Taehyung again, even if he doesn’t show it openly. 

“And who’s this Miss Universe you’ve brought along? Are you on your honeymoon?”

You don’t have a chance to answer when Taehyung turns to you, because frankly, his intense gaze and barely-dressed body in the cold are a bit overwhelming. It’s kind of bizarre that he’s standing there in the open, half-naked, while the rest of you are bundled up for the weather. You force yourself not to check if his nipples are hard and instead stretch out your hand politely.

“That’s ___.” Yoongi’s voice is heard. 

But Taehyung ignores your outstretched hand and steps forward, pulling you into an embrace and kissing your cheek, completely throwing your composure out the window.

“Are you two dating?”

You glance at Yoongi over Taehyung’s shoulder, both of you equally unsure how to answer. Yes, you’re pretending, but outright lying is something neither of you is comfortable with.

“We’re—” you start to say, dragging it out, but thankfully, for reasons you can’t quite grasp, Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s shoulder, pulling him away from you and cutting in. For once, you’re grateful for Jungkook’s stupidity.

“Let’s get inside. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yes, right! Come in, come in.”

Entering Taehyung’s place is nothing short of wild. The grand open space is filled with dubious art pieces, the kind where you’d rather not know the price tag.

It doesn’t take long to kick off your snowboard boots and gear, leaving you in your base layers. Despite the warmth inside, the sudden shift in layers makes you shiver slightly, especially since there’s nothing in your stomach to keep you warm.

Following Taehyung further inside, you let your eyes wander, and you can’t help but stop when you spot the massive dining table, looking more like something out of a castle. It’s not the Korean BBQ on it that catches your attention but rather the chairs lined up around it. They’re shiny black. Not so unusual, except for the fact that they’re shaped like the backside of a person—naked, at that.

Yoongi, absolutely unfazed, just grins and gives you a light shove on the lower back to keep you moving.

“I hope you’re hungry. I brought plenty, so don’t feel like you’ve got to be all posh and eat like a bird.”

Rounding the table, you sit down beside Yoongi, while Hara joins Taehyung on the other side of the table. Why Jungkook chose to sit next to you, when there are thousands of other free chairs, is a mystery you’re not eager to unravel. Especially when you shoot him an irritated look as he sits down, and he just smiles like it’s the most normal thing in the world—as if the two of you weren’t split ages ago.

Not wanting to dwell too long on that and because you’re intestines are eating you alive at this point, you turn to your host. 

“Thanks for having us, Taehyung. I’m starving after being tortured all morning.”

Everyone laughs at your comment—except Jungkook, who tries to nudge your ribs with his elbow, but you dodge, still somehow familiar with his antics.

“I didn’t torture you.”

“You did,” Yoongi mutters, boldly reaching for the meat to throw on the table grill, which has been sizzling away since you sat down.

“C always tortures people, nothing new,” Hara remarks, and Jungkook looks more betrayed than the day you broke up with him.

“You’re mean, noona.”

“‘You’re mean, noona,’” you mock him, cringing at yourself even as the words come out. It disgusts you how petty you’re being, and you recoil from it inwardly. The others don’t seem to share your sentiment, laughing at Jungkook being moody.

“Oppa, how do you know Taehyung?” 

“Please, just call me Tae.”

“You remember the paintings in my studio? He’s the artist.” Yoongi answers you casually, though you can sense how much it bothers him being called oppa. 

“No way! That’s so cool!” You gush, letting your eyes drift to the artwork hung on the walls as Yoongi adds food to your plate, much to Jungkook’s annoyance, which he makes clear with a side-eye.

“Aww, it’s not much.”

“Shut up, you’re amazing,” Hara scolds Tae, and you can’t help but think that, under other circumstances, you’d probably want to be friends with her. She seems funny and genuinely nice, which just makes it suck more the longer you dwell on it.

“I’ve been looking for a painting to hang above my bed for ages, but I can never find the right one,” you mention, trying to steer the conversation as far away from Jungkook as possible. 

“If something catches your eye, you’re free to have it, ___.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t spoil her; she doesn’t deserve it,” Yoongi jokes, and you know he’s kidding with the way his eyes flit to you. 

“Wow,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, but before you can respond, Taehyung cuts in.

“Why? What did she do?”

Oh no. Yoongi wouldn’t… but of course, he does.

“Little Miss Adrenaline here has been dragging me to most of her adventures since I got back from the States.”

“That’s not true. It’s only been a few,” you try to save face, but it’s hopeless with Yoongi being both your closest ally and worst enemy.

“So bungee jumping, kite surfing, and now snowboarding isn’t ‘most’?”

“No! I’ve done plenty without you, stop lying.”

“But it was enough.”

“They’re bickering like an old married couple,” Hara laughs, clearly torn between which of you to watch.

“It’s not enough—you’ve left me on my own more times than I can count!”

“At least I was there when you whined beforehand and came back all fuzzy after.”

“How noble of you.”

“You don’t seem like the thrill-seeker type, no offence,” Taehyung adds when Yoongi doesn’t come back with a retort.

“Well, sometimes you’ve got to step out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah! Look at you, trying snowboarding all bold and brave! Kind of like all the things you said you weren’t into when we were dating.”

The table falls into a deathly silence. Jungkook’s words ring out in the open space, echoing painfully in your heart and being. You’re stunned, utterly speechless at his outburst—it’s so unlike the Jungkook you knew. You don’t know what to say, and thankfully, Yoongi spares you the need.

“Want some more meat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your voice is quiet, too low to betray the trembling in it, but you’re sure everyone feels the hurt radiating from you. You don’t want to feel like a kicked puppy, but somehow, because Jungkook still means so much to you, it stings deeply.

The conversation between the others resumes, though you and Jungkook remain silent for the rest of the meal, though you reckon he doesn’t regret anything. 

You learn that Hara is the same age as Yoongi, and that Taehyung is a bit older than Jungkook—though only by two years.

Even though you haven’t recovered from Jungkook’s jab just yet, you start to enjoy the food, feeling more energised than you did this morning. Jungkook, however, is still steeped in his pettiness, especially when Yoongi helps you tear a perilla leaf off the stack.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the constant negative energy from Jungkook is draining you to the point where you’re not sure you’ll even make it back outside for the snowboarding session.

Luckily, neither Yoongi nor Jungkook seem to mind dragging the day out here at Taehyung’s place. Hours pass, and after Tae makes you his special smoothie for your ‘sure-to-be-sore muscles,’ and Hara spills all the gossip you never knew you needed, it’s clear the snowboarding course is off for today.

While Tae and Hara clean up the kitchen, and Yoongi and Jungkook, to your surprise, get along enough to talk shop about music, you take the opportunity to admire Tae’s paintings, hoping to find one that fits what you’ve been searching for.

There are several abstract pieces, bold in colours and strokes, but they feel too chaotic, making you feel restless. You’re about to give up when your eyes land on a smaller piece above the fireplace, drawing you in immediately.

It’s beautiful—abstract as well, but with muted colours. You think you can make out flowers, or perhaps there are angels. You’re not sure, but the painting exudes a calm, controlled aura that you can’t tear yourself away from. Reading the title on the little card in the corner, you see “All of My Good is Yours.” It’s poetic, and it speaks to you on a deeper level.

“You like it?” Taehyung asks, stepping up beside you, hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. With his tousled hair and laid-back vibe, he looks every bit the artist.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“You want it?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Of course you can. I’d be happy to gift it to you.”

You smile softly, thanking him as you admire the painting once more, already picturing it above your bed.

“What’s the title about?” you ask, curious about the story behind the piece.

“C? Come over here real quick.”

You’re more than confused when Tae calls for Jungkook, not understanding the connection between him and this painting. You just hope the confusion isn’t written as plainly on your face as it is on Jungkook’s when he approaches you both, stopping just short between you and Tae. 

“S’up?”

“What’s the title about?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker nervously between you, the painting, and Taehyung. “Why are you asking?”

“I gifted her your painting,” Taehyung beams, completely unaware he’s just dug your grave and pushed you in.

The laugh that escapes Jungkook is anything but friendly, his eyes filled with what looks to close to hatred as they land on you.

“Of course,” he breathes, then eventually explains with a disdainful smirk, “it’s about a lover who knows he can’t live without the other.”

You’re shocked to the core. Was this painting meant for Hara, and it ended up at Tae’s by mistake? Or why would Jungkook paint something so meaningful in the first place? You can’t handle it after learning the meaning and that he painted it, even though it’s exactly what you’d envisioned.

You take the hit anyway and say, as neutrally as possible, “I guess I shouldn’t take it then. It feels too personal.”

“Why?” Jungkook scoffs. “It was supposed to be yours anyway.”

Jungkook turns around at that, leaving you gaping after him. It’s not just his mood swings but also his remarks that are giving you whiplash at this point, and seeing the equally shocked expression on Taehyung’s face, you reckon Jungkook isn’t usually this bitter.

“Well…”

“Well…” Taehyung echoes.

“Still want it?”

Do you? You’re not sure anymore, but maybe there’s enough time to figure out if you can look past it all and take it home.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, just let me know, and I’ll pack it up for you.”

“Thanks, Tae. You’re too kind.”

“No worries.” He smiles as he walks back with you to where the others are lounging on his massive couch.

You don’t even have the chance to sit before Yoongi stands up and nudges you back to your feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“I want a nap.”

“What about the course?” Jungkook chimes in.

“Tomorrow, mate. Today’s done.”

You’re grateful Yoongi made the decision for you because you wouldn’t have been able to say no to either Jungkook’s company or the course itself, even though both aren’t exactly the healthy pastime. But looking outside, with the late afternoon light fading, going back to the slopes doesn’t seem as inviting as it did earlier.

“Aight,” Jungkook says, clapping his hands on his thighs as he stands up too, completely unfazed by your puzzled expression.

“Wait, we need to get our stuff from Hope’s,” you call after Yoongi, who’s already slipping into his boots.

“I’ll call him and let him know you’re coming tomorrow,” Taehyung offers.

You’re not sure if it’s rude of you to leave it like that, but you thank him anyway, hoping it won’t be a big deal.

Everyone’s getting dressed in seconds, and once again, you’re struggling with your boots while everyone else watches. You try not to let the embarrassment show, but there’s no stopping the blush. Even when you throw pleading glances at Yoongi, he doesn’t offer any help.

“Let me help.”

Jungkook being the one to help is something you never expected after how the day has gone, but you’re grateful nonetheless. He bends down, and like Hope earlier, he takes the boot and your calf in his hands.

It’s nostalgic, him touching you, helping you when you’re the damsel in distress, and it makes you think about how different things would’ve been if you’d stayed by his side. You’re not sure how to feel—sad or angry. But who should you be angry at? Him? For moving on? Or yourself? Or maybe at Yoongi, for not stepping up like a cousin should in moments like this?

“Thank you, Kook.” You hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip, hadn’t wanted to see Jungkook’s starry eyes locked onto yours as though you’ve broken his heart all over again. But what’s done is done, and there’s no taking it back now. Not even the nickname.

“Thanks for having us, Tae.” Yoongi gives him a quick dab, and after Jungkook does the same, and you say your goodbyes, you leave with Hara.

You try to stay close to Yoongi, avoiding the other two. You don’t even have the energy to scold him for not helping you earlier. And while you walk silently towards the hostel, Hara takes a different route to wherever she’s staying.

You don’t ask, and you definitely don’t watch as she kisses Jungkook’s cheek as if they won’t see each other later at Jin’s. It’s different from how she kissed Taehyung, and you’re pretty sure even if they’re not officially dating, they’re at least sleeping together. The thought stings though. 

It doesn’t take long for you to reach Namjoon’s hostel, Jungkook, maybe for old time’s sake, opens the door for you to step in first, and when the door chime rings, you both glance up at the same time. There’s none of the old playfulness in his gaze, just a sadness you wish you’d never seen. You reckon it’s all just old feelings resurfacing—thoughts of the good times, ignoring all the things that went wrong.

“Hey! You’re back!” Namjoon calls from behind the reception desk, flipping through some books as the three of you stomp inside with your snow-covered boots. Just hours ago you thought his smile and laugh would be your weak spot, only to fade into insignificance after Jungkook’s presence. “How was it?”

“I’m still alive,” you and Yoongi mutter in unison, bringing a small smile to your lips. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster right now.

“Told you C would take good care of you both.” Namjoon laughs while Jungkook shrugs off his jacket. He’s probably too warm already, like he always is.

“Your luggage is—”

“In our room, thanks, Namjoon.” You hope he catches the hint as you give him a crazed look, willing him to stop talking.

“Right, in your room.”

To his credit, Namjoon’s clearly confused, and he’s got every right to be, but he plays along, which is exactly what you need right now.

“I’m taking a nap. Bye.”

“Bye!” You wave at Namjoon, following Yoongi in a desperate bid to escape spending another minute with Jungkook. It feels rude, the way you’ve treated Namjoon, but you hope he’ll brush it off as exhaustion.

You just want a bath and then to crash, even though it’s still early evening. It doesn’t matter that Yoongi’s snoring will probably keep you up; as long as you don’t have to face Jungkook again today, that’s all that matters. Especially when you see him entering the room across from yours as you close the door to the honeymoon suite, knowing that he’ll be off to be with Hara any minute. 

masterlist • 02

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀

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[bbyboybucket]

Well bad news, I’m 99.9% sure that I got sold a sick rabbit and it’s pretty bad too