“You okay?” It’s the fourth time Namjoon has asked Jungkook the question since picking him from his… no, Taehyung’s house.

Truth be told, he’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay since waking up in a hospital to the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his entire life (or at least what he remembers of his life) staring back at him with worried eyes, only to find out that he’s the reason that the man had lost his smile.  Then there’s Namjoon, sitting directly in front of him, and staring in that way that makes Jungkook feel like a child who’s just been reprimanded. He feels guilt towards the older man, like he’s done something that he needs to apologize for, only he has no idea what it is.

“Why do I feel like I need to say I’m sorry to you, hyung?” he caves and asks the question.

“Because you do,” Namjoon’s reply is simple but comes with no explanation.

“Why?”

Jungkook watches in silence as Namjoon pushes the black framed glasses further up on his nose. The older man then sighs and focuses his gaze in Jungkook’s direction.

“I’ll answer that question if you answer this one. Does this place seem familiar?”

Jungkook glances around. He and Namjoon are sitting in a red, semi-circular booth. The lighting is low but not dark, and there’s a full kitchen serving cooked food. Jungkook’s stomach growls when a waitress walks past him with the largest hamburger he’s ever seen. Namjoon chuckles and Jungkook sees his shoulders shaking in his peripheral vision.

“You hungry?” Namjoon questions.

He is hungry.

“Mmm,” he hums a response.

Namjoon beckons a server to their table.

“Burgers and beers?” Namjoon looks at him and arches his brows.

“Sounds great, hyung.” Jungkook nods in the affirmative.

The waitress is friendly, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the way she openly flirts with Namjoon. He also doesn’t miss the older man’s discomfort at the attention.

“She’s cute, hyung, and clearly interested,” Jungkook tells Namjoon when the woman walks away.

“You honestly don’t remember anything that’s related to Taehyung, do you?” Namjoon seems sincerely surprised, and Jungkook’s confused as to how that has anything to do with the flirty waitress. “I’m in a relationship... with Taehyung’s brother Jin.”

Jungkook’s lips form an o, he’s shocked, and there’s a reason, but he doesn’t know what it is. There’s a whisper in his ear, in his mind, telling him there’s something about this statement that’s meaningful, that he had issues with in the past. Maybe it’s the reason he and Namjoon haven’t spoken in almost a year. They’re polite when meeting at social gatherings, making small talk, but it’s empty and void of any real friendship. He and Namjoon used to be inseparable; one wasn’t seen without the other. He had looked up to the older man as an older brother, like family. He loved Namjoon…and it dawns on Jungkook as he stares at the older man, currently fidgeting with his fingers and working at his bottom lip with his teeth, he still loves Namjoon. It changed one day, their friendship, and Jungkook can’t figure out why. A part of him wants to hug Namjoon, to hold on to the man, to go back to the comfortable relationship they once shared before whatever occurred that broke them apart.

“It’s Taehyung, isn’t it? The thing that caused our rift…it was Taehyung, wasn’t it?” Jungkook just guesses, but when Namjoon’s brows furrow and the blonde holds his head down, Jungkook knows he’s correct.

The silence in the air is thick, weighted, and uncomfortable. Jungkook shifts in his seat.

“It was over there.” Namjoon finally looks up, breaking the quiet. A long, slender finger points to the dance floor off to their left, now packed with people moving to the beat of the song being played by a music savvy DJ, and laughing. “The first time I saw him, Taehyung, he was beautiful, and I was enamored instantly.” Namjoon laughs as though the memory is funny.

“You liked Taehyung?” Jungkook knows the answer, he feels it in his gut, in the pit of his stomach, and it’s burdensome.

Namjoon met Taehyung first. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, burying him further under his already mountain high guilt.

Jungkook doesn’t remember the events per se, but he knows that he came in later and (without meaning to) took Taehyung away. It’s hazy, like a distorted photo where you see the figures but can’t make out the individuals, and Jungkook blows at his bangs in frustration.

Namjoon watches Jungkook’s facial expression from his vantage point across the table. He knows the younger is hurting; after all this time and distance that has passed between them, he’s surprised that he can still read the younger like a book. He feels sympathetic, and he doesn’t want to. Jungkook brought this on himself, and even if a part of Namjoon understands why the man believed he needed to break up with Taehyung, it still doesn’t erase all the havoc Jungkook wrought in their tight-knit group. Sighing, he lets his hand slide from his mouth back down to the table and continues staring. Jungkook looks like a lost puppy, and Namjoon feels guilty. He wishes he had stuck to his original plan to bail on this whole trip down memory lane idea.

TWO HOURS PRIOR

“I’m not going.” Namjoon knows he sounds like an impudent child.

“Yes, you are.” Jin’s reply is firm, almost parental.

Namjoon sighs and runs a hand through his uncombed hair. Jin laughs before leaning over to pat down what Namjoon assumes is stray strand running amuck (as his hair often does). His thoughts feel unorganized. He and Jungkook haven’t spoken seriously since the day Taehyung called Jin crying hysterically to tell him that Jungkook had walked out.

That day Namjoon had run out of the apartment immediately upon hearing the news. He knew where Jungkook would be, and he knew (or thought he did) that Jungkook would never leave Taehyung without a valid reason.

He found Jungkook at their spot, Namjoon’s family restaurant, sitting in a corner, drowning his sorrows in several (Namjoon counts six) bottles of Soju.  The chair screeches along the floor as he pulls it out to sit down. Jungkook doesn’t look up, doesn’t turn in his direction. Instead, Jungkook pours some liquid into a shot glass and pushes it towards Namjoon.

“Quite a collection you have there,” Namjoon points out, looking up as a waitress (who smiles at him sympathetically) places another bottle of the alcoholic beverage on the table.

“It’s a lie, you know,” Jungkook starts; Namjoon sits quietly waiting for him to continue, “that alcohol dulls the pain. It doesn’t; my brain feels like mush, but my heart still feels like there’s a knife wedged in it being slowly twisted by an invisible hand.” Jungkook throws his head back, chugging another shot; he makes a hissing sound as he swallows.

“Why’d you do it then?” Namjoon looks at him; it’s the most broken he’s ever seen the other man.

Jungkook is the very definition of an oxymoron, the living breathing embodiment of contradiction. The younger man’s exterior is refined, strong, and aloof. If someone were to judge him by his looks, they would be sorely incorrect. Inside, Jungkook’s soft, insecure, and easily hurt.

“It’s was the right choice.” He hears the doubt immediately in Jungkook’s tone.

“The right choice?”

“Hyung, I worked hard to get where I am, you know?” J