Tarts aren’t fun. Jungkook hates them, as much as he can hate any food that he’s put hard effort into. They’re temperamental and difficult to manage; if there’s something that can go wrong, it probably will. All trauma aside, though, Jungkook’s relatively content with the dish he presents that afternoon. He falls in at second place, behind an older woman – it’s her first time at the top of the board, so Jungkook doesn’t feel too threatened.

 

He should probably feel something resembling surprise when Taehyung presents yet another mystery, produced from loud clatters and laughter, but Jungkook’s too desensitised now to bother. As long as he stays above Taehyung, he shouldn’t care about that unnaturally bright, perfectly smooth mound of something.

 

He doesn’t care about the scores that Taehyung gets, doesn’t at all feel a little cheated when Taehyung drops to fifth place despite the good reviews from judges.

 

He does not.

 

There are only seven contestants left, so it’s not long before Jungkook’s taking his dish back to clean up the remaining tart – and the stack of dishes he’d left in the basin. He doesn’t actually detest the clean-up process as much as everyone else does – it gives him mindless time to understand why he got the scores he did, and how he can improve.

 

He’s just drying his last pie-tin when Taehyung strolls on over, clearly finished with his own station. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, so neither does Taehyung – and it’s a little uncomfortable, having someone leaning on your benchtop while you clean in silence. Jungkook’s good at shutting things out, though; it’s a skill he’s sadly had to develop in this very competition, given his opponents.

 

The quiet doesn’t last long anyway, not when Taehyung’s suddenly mumbling a string of words around the fork in his mouth – where did he get that fork from. Jungkook tucks the tin back under his worktop, and raises an eyebrow at Taehyung.

 

Taehyung cheeks are full of something – and judging by the way he’s setting the fork back down on Jungkook’s plate of tart, Jungkook can guess what.

 

“That’s really good,” Taehyung finally manages, swallowing down his mouthful and waving at the achacha tart. “Like, wow.”

 

“Help yourself,” Jungkook says sarcastically, and Taehyung gives him a big, boxy grin in return. Coupled with a cheesy peace sign, Jungkook feels what little impassiveness he has left give way.

 

Taehyung breaks another piece of the tart off, seemingly unconcerned about eating from parts the judges had already taken from. “I know they told you your pastry was terrible, but.” He finishes with another mouthful of food, staring up like Jungkook has just made the most divine dish fit for the gods.

 

Jungkook is feeling more than uncomfortable under the praise – it isn’t that good, Jungkook tried the pastry himself and knows it’s definitely lacking. It’s his best effort yet, but Taehyung’s talking as if it’s the best effort ever.

 

“The others and I, like just Seokjin and Youngjae, we’re all going out tonight.” Taehyung struggles to swallow the forkful, and looks surprisingly bashful for the first time in…ever. “I was wondering if maybe you might be free or something?”

 

Jungkook’s first reaction is not surprise, or even something similar to elation – which he supposes would be the appropriate reaction. No, it’s panic and fear, and he’s not sure he wants to know why.

 

“Me?” Jungkook asks dumbly, pointing to himself like there is possibly some mistake (they both know there’s nothing to be mistaken, but it doesn’t hurt to ask).

 

“You don’t have to, I mean you’ve probably got heaps to be doing anyway, it’s just a few drinks and maybe karaoke if it’s not too busy.” Taehyung shuffles in place.

 

Jungkook can’t remember the last time he went out; probably some university-related thing. He isn’t a stranger to fun and antics, but it’s not usually something he seeks out. His aspirations nearly always come first.

 

Still, he can’t help but feel a small flutter of desire – the urge to go out, to pretend he’s not trying to crush these people in competition, to have fun. Taehyung may be a little much at times, and he’s only spoken to Youngjae once, but what’s the worst that can happen?

 

And then Jungkook remembers what the worst that can happen is. He’s known these people for a few weeks at most, and apart from Taehyung, he doesn’t even know anything but their names. That’s probably why he’s feeling so anxious right now, because regardless of how much time he spends in the same room as these people nearly every day, they’re still all complete strangers to him – Taehyung included.

 

Jungkook swallows roughly, and shakes his head. “I can’t, sorry.” He pretends he doesn’t see Taehyung’s face fall, even ever so slightly. “I already promised a friend I’d help him with his art project.”

 

It’s not a lie, exactly – Namjoon never said when he wanted Jungkook to model for him, just that it needed to be done soon. He’s sure it won’t take much free food to persuade Namjoon to clear out his schedule tonight, art project or not.

 

“Oh, okay, that’s fine, maybe next time,” Taehyung says, cheery face back on show. Jungkook can’t help but feel incredibly guilty when Taehyung immediately wishes him well, leaving to join his other friends instead, and he’s not sure why.

 

There’s something else there too, something Jungkook hasn’t felt in a long time, and it takes him a moment to put a name tag on it.

 

Regret.

 

///

 

Jungkook walks in the next morning, and finds only six benches aligned perfectly in the middle of the set. Someone was clearly eliminated last night, but he can’t even remember who was going to the bottom two. People of unimportance, apparently, or Jungkook thinks he’d find himself far more curious.

 

There’s still two unmanned work stations once everyone’s moved into position. Seokjin’s leaning on his countertop messing with his phone, either blissfully unaware of or blatantly ignoring the sharp glares he keeps receiving from the producer. Jungkook doesn’t even have to check to know Taehyung’s not present – it’s quiet, subdued.

 

It doesn’t really occur to Jungkook that Taehyung could’ve been eliminated, and he’d have never known until filming began without. As it is, it only really matters when Taehyung finally slumps in against the workstation in front of Jungkook’s, something awful.

 

Seokjin gives him a pitiful glance from the corner of his eye as today’s competition is explained, more than enough for Jungkook to somewhat grasp the situation. Taehyung doesn’t even move when the producer kindly asks him to look presentable, and only really shifts when the timer begins.

 

Taehyung is the last to return with his ingredients and start cooking, and Jungkook has ample time to marvel at the dark under-eye circles, or the hair that has clearly not been washed since yesterday morning at least.

 

Jungkook might’ve been worried and confused if it weren’t for Taehyung’s voice repeating itself over and over in Jungkook’s head. Just a few drinks.

 

So instead, Jungkook rolls his eyes and gets down to making a thick dough, ignoring the way his chest tenses every time Taehyung’s fingers slip just a little too close to the knife. Whose fault was this really?

 

Jungkook and Taehyung don’t speak that day, but they do exchange some kind of smile-glare thing when Taehyung presents a perfectly cooked salmon dish, even after nearly gutting himself as cleanly as the poor fish.

 

///

 

Morning hour television programs aren’t Jungkook’s thing. There’s a lot of cheap news and middle-aged women chatting on impeccable sofas about things of little importance. Jungkook would rather eat his cereal in silence, was even reaching for the remote control to switch the television off, but as per usual he’s completely blindsided.

 

His mother had left the television on after she left for work that morning, so he at least knows it’s not sabotage (or, god forbid, fate) that has Jungkook staring open-mouthed at the two familiar faces reclining comfortably next to the trio of presenters.

 

The girl he doesn’t care about, black hair straightened to fall down past her shoulders like she’s some kind of model (she’s really only a subpar chef, if Jungkook’s being honest). But Taehyung? On the news? Unbelievable.

 

Jungkook knew the show would be doing all kinds of promotions, but he really expected someone – anyone – else to be trusted with drawing viewers in.

 

“-been fired over fifteen times in the hospitality industry, that’s crazy!” one of the women exclaims, leaning forward like she’s genuinely interested and hadn’t just read the question from a monitor hidden under the cameras.

 

Taehyung nods, and Jungkook lowers the hand holding the remote (just a little, he’s still going to turn the tv off, he’s not that invested damn it). “Head chefs and I don’t really get along,” he says sheepishly, ruffling the back of his hair and smiling. Everyone laughs, carefully orchestrated television at its best.

 

“Like to colour outside the lines, yeah?” the female contest – Eunha? – adds, as if she actually knows Taehyung at all. Jungkook frowns as Taehyung agrees.

 

“You’ve mentioned you’re not very good at recipes and set meals, and your experiments have really gotten you far in this season’s competition, but why do you continue to persist in the restaurant line? Surely you must have some doubts about your success after all this?”

 

“I mean, the goal is to open my own place where there’s no one to tell me what to do, you know?” Taehyung jokes, carefully dodging all semblance of an actual answer. “That’s why I want to win, the prize money could really help fund it.”

 

Jungkook scoops a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, ignoring the way the milk trails a little down his chin. The women laugh again. “Of course, of course. We’ll all be rooting for you two, so try your best!”

 

Eunha ducks her head, but Taehyung laughs. “I don’t try,” he admits, grinning broadly. “I love what I do no matter, and it’s easier to have fun that way.”

 

More laughter, as the women close the segment with a few niceties and promotional statements – although Jungkook wouldn’t know, considering how fast his thumb came down on the off button after Taehyung’s admission.

 

Jungkook finishes the rest of his steadily soggy-ing cereal in silence, scowling at the blank screen like it’s got something to hide.

 

///

 

“You’ve got to teach me sometime,” Taehyung pleads, nursing the serving of broth close to his chest. “Like, seriously man, how?”

 

Jungkook shrugs, wiping down the stainless steel bench top. Taehyung’s doing the thing again, the same thing he’s been doing for the past few filming days. The broth in question saved Jungkook from the current round of eliminations, but it really is in no way worthy of such high praise. None of Jungkook’s creations Taehyung seemed devoted to worshipping were anywhere near god-status like he made them out to be.

 

“Stop doing that,” Taehyung accuses sharply, pointing his spoon at Jungkook like a weapon. “You’re thinking again.”

 

Jungkook snorts. “Sorry, forgot you don’t like using your brain, I’ll try and stop doing it around you.”

 

“Um, rude,” Taehyung says, chasing a small piece of chicken around the edge of the bowl. “For real though, you did good.”

 

Jungkook doesn’t know when he started believing Taehyung, even a little, or when he started having to fight the bubbly smile that came with it. He’s not even sure if he should be fighting anymore.

 

///

 

 

It’s expectation now, that Taehyung will have his own serve of whatever Jungkook’s made that episode. Jungkook has recognised the ease in plating up an extra serve before cleaning, leaving it at the edge of the bench like dinner for an overexcited puppy. He’s not really sure how Taehyung always finishes cleaning up first – considering the mess he can manage in just an hour – but Jungkook doesn’t even startle anymore when he turns around to find Taehyung munching away.

 

Taehyung seems to have made habits of his own too – namely the praise and respect, or the strange tones he pulls when Jungkook tries to argue his dish’s imperfections, but also in something a little less conscious.

 

That, or Taehyung knows exactly what he’s doing every time he manages to counteract one of Jungkook’s moods before they happen. Albeit, he’s not always successful – although Jungkook’s got a high success rate in hiding it all until he’s safe and alone – Taehyung just seems to click whenever Jungkook’s feeling particularly hateful over his failures.

 

As much as Jungkook can appreciate it, he really hopes Taehyung doesn’t actually know what he’s doing. He doesn’t want the embarrassment that comes with realising Taehyung has clued in on the events in the storeroom that day, and that Jungkook looks every bit as weak as he actually is.

 

Jungkook doesn’t hold much hope out for that though. If even he can tell that Taehyung lies when he says he doesn’t try at all, doesn’t care if he wins or loses, then there’s no chance that someone so complex hasn’t got Jungkook all figured out.

 

///

 

Jungkook worked it out the day he saw Taehyung on the news. Granted, it took him some time – until the end of that day’s challenge, to be exact – but he knows just that little bit more than he might’ve considered.

 

And yet, it’s really only made matters that much harder for Jungkook to understand.

 

The words had stuck, all day. I don’t try. Jungkook doesn’t know why it felt so rotten, not when it made perfect sense. Taehyung didn’t try, he just threw ingredients together in the hopes of making something great. People who try don’t just set fire to most of their main ingredients while chatting up a camera operator.

 

Jungkook couldn’t help but stare most of the time, eyebrows furrowed as Taehyung worked away in front of him. There was really no method to his madness at all – in fact, it was almost a wonder he hadn’t screwed up majorly so far in. He barely used measurements, glanced at his recipe once for estimated cooking time (which he didn’t follow anyway), and seemed to rely purely on his own five senses to tell him when things were right and when they weren’t.

 

It wasn’t obvious until the last five minutes, when Taehyung was drizzling sauce over his plated foods. He was on a slight angle, one of the first times Jungkook could actually see his face.

 

Taehyung had his tongue stuck out, just a little, as he patterned the pale orange sauce over top, frowning ever so slightly in his concentration. That certainly wasn’t the expression of someone who didn’t care in the least for their final product as long as they ‘had fun doing so’. Jungkook wouldn’t believe it for a second.

 

And so, the mystery of Taehyung unravelled just that little bit more, revealing only a mess of puzzles that Jungkook couldn’t hope to ever solve entirely. That’s not mentioning Jungkook’s own set of puzzles, like the way he got a bout of butterflies when Taehyung smiled cheesily at his final result, sauce laid on perfectly.

 

That was something Jungkook would solve later, after he’d won the competition.

 

///

 

It’s another mystery box challenge – a classic for a show like this, and yet ever dreaded by Jungkook. They’ll have two hours to find a recipe before filming starts again, but Jungkook still fears getting one of the ‘shock’ ingredients. The ones that are designed to create issues, designed to make for a great program.

 

In hindsight, he should’ve worried for others too – although perhaps he was, because when Taehyung draws his own take on the seafood challenge, Jungkook’s heart drops like he’d been holding his breath for something that never came good.

 

Jungkook’s never worked with Monkfish before, and clearly neither has Taehyung. He still smiles when he sets the lid down, like he’s confident in his ability to concoct something, but Jungkook’s not sold. He can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment he learnt to decipher between real and fake Taehyung smiles, but it’s a skill he picked up somewhere, sometime.

 

It doesn’t end there. Jungkook can’t help but watch the train wreck of Taehyung’s cooking. It’s no different from usual, really; spot of fire, burnt smell, weird textures, herbs that should not go there, but for Taehyung’s body language.

 

Jungkook’s not the only one who’s spotted it – he’s caught Seokjin staring at least three times, the same expression on his face as if it were his own food going wrong. Taehyung just can’t seem to make anything go right, but Jungkook’s not overly concerned. He’s seen Taehyung come back from worse, this is nothing.

 

///

 

It’s really the furthest thing from nothing, far enough that Jungkook doesn’t bother to hide his emotions when Taehyung drops to bottom two. Elimination is tonight, and Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s comparing this feeling to that other day, that day he’s marked as the worst of his life.

 

///

 

He’s lying in bed that night, praying that Taehyung makes it through. He’s not religious, but the action is better than the crippling anxiety that Jungkook’s actually lost his chance; that it’s taken him this long to realise he needed a chance in the first place.

 

His mother hadn’t noticed anything odd that night, or at least she hadn’t tried to bring it up. Jungkook would tell her eventually anyway, it’s not like they kept secrets in this house. Jungkook’s father had established that, one of his positive legacies that could carry on long after he left.

 

That’s at least half the source of Jungkook’s pain right now. He’s curled in on himself, blankets pulled high over his head until he’s formed his own little bed sanctuary. It gives him space to think, space to be himself, space to not be okay.

 

He and his father were going to open a restaurant together; they’d planned this together from the moment Jungkook flipped his first pancake. Even now, age 19, Jungkook fully plans to execute the master scheme – he just needs a little money to get started, boost him up. The fame would certainly be welcome too, no doubt.

 

But suddenly, there were other factors. Factors like Kim Taehyung. To win would be to deny Taehyung his chance, but to lose would be to abandon his own dreams.

 

And now tonight, Jungkook knows he should be glad one of his more troublesome competitors is in the doghouse, but he just can’t help but pray it’s Eunha who goes home.

 

///

 

When Taehyung walks in the next morning, he doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even meet Jungkook’s eye, misses the pure relief Jungkook is wearing. They’re still a little early for filming, still waiting for the last of the four contestants remaining to arrive. Jungkook’s pretty sure Taehyung’s meant to make an actual appearance first on camera, so the crews can capture the other contestants’ surprise and/or relief, but it doesn’t take Jungkook long to figure out why Taehyung’s ignoring the plan.

 

Jungkook has to turn away when Taehyung’s steps stutter, head bowed, quiet sobs suddenly audible in the warehouse. He clenches his fist when he wishes he’d been closer to Taehyung this entire time, that it was him, not Seokjin, scrambling over to offer comfort.

 

He wishes he has some kind of courage to even stop pretending he doesn’t know what’s happening behind him when he turns away.

 

///

 

Taehyung’s recovered by the end of that day’s competition, although he doesn’t touch the food Jungkook left out for him. The fact that he’s smiling up from his lean against the storage shelf is enough, though. They don’t talk about what happened this morning. Jungkook’s pretty sure Taehyung thinks he doesn’t even know about his past yet, so ignoring the situation is probably a good thing.

 

“I’m so eggcited for tomorrow,” Taehyung says, holding two eggs up to his eyes and grinning in Jungkook’s general direction. Jungkook rolls his eyes (not that Taehyung can see that).

 

“It’s just another public challenge,” he points out, scooping the cornflour from his basket back into its rightful place. Taehyung drops the eggs back into their carton spaces, a little too carelessly.

 

“But it’s cheese-themed! And in pairs!” Taehyung exclaims, arms waving. Jungkook carefully shifts the tray of eggs back, out of harm’s way. “You won’t be…”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Provo-alone.” Taehyung smirks.

 

“What does that even mean?” Another can on the wall – now just the milk and greens, on the other side of the storage room. Jungkook assumes Taehyung will follow.

 

“Provolone. You know, the cheese?” He does follow.

 

Jungkook sighs, swinging the door to the walk-in refrigerator out wide. “That’s dumb.”

 

Taehyung’s silent for a moment – always a worrying prospect. Jungkook’s basket is empty by the time he speaks up, blocking the exit.

 

“Lettuce,” he begins, holding up a dry, browned, should’ve-been-tossed-out-two-weeks-ago leaf of iceberg lettuce, “make a dill.”

 

“You’re not funny,” Jungkook says blandly, snatching the jar of pickles from Taehyung’s other hand.

 

“Seriously though. If we’re paired together for tomorrow, you have to dress my way.” Taehyung raises both his eyebrows, looking rather devilish. Jungkook’s not sure why he should agree.

 

“What’s in it for me?” May as well check.

 

“If we’re not in a pear,” holding up the very same fruit, “you can call any favour of me you want. No questions asked.”

 

Jungkook doesn’t even have to think about it. “Deal.”

 

///

 

The names are drawn ‘randomly’ – which every reality show contestant knows means it’s been carefully planned ever since they knew who’d be participating.

 

“Seokjin…”

 

Said man steps forward, hair impeccable, smile sweet for the camera.

 

“You’ll be in a pair with Jungkook. Good luck, red team.”

 

///

 

“You’re so rude to me,” Taehyung whines, pouting at someone who, for once, is not Jungkook. He’s standing just a little way away, beating a cream manually until it’s the right texture, and he’s pretty sure he’s really not meant to be able to hear their conversation.

 

“It wasn’t my choice Tae,” Seokjin replies calmly – a huge feat, considering Taehyung’s been at it for the last five minutes at least. His partner is looking a little frazzled, trying to sort out the mess of ingredients Taehyung’s whacked together without him.

 

Taehyung’s huffs childishly, and Jungkook peeks out of the corner of his eye as the other contestant slinks away sulkily. Jungkook’s not quick enough though, because Seokjin catches his gaze at the last second, offering a knowing little smile.

 

Their little secret, hopefully.

 

Jungkook hasn’t minded working with Seokjin in the slightest for the past forty minutes; he’s a delight, including the spontaneous jokes (apparently they’re not a thing developed by the program, and Seokjin really does just have an exhaustive repertoire of dad humour), but Jungkook also quickly finds that they have a similar approach to cooking. It’s almost too easy, how things fall into place. They’ll win this for sure.

 

He still can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be paired up with Taehyung though. A spectacular disaster, and Jungkook finds himself more than once considering why the producers didn’t see the opportunity in placing him and the mad scientist together.

 

///

 

When the filming ends (Seokjin and Jungkook won, of course), Jungkook finds himself being harassed by Taehyung regardless of the relative proximity of a third body.

 

Although Jungkook shouldn’t be surprised Taehyung isn’t turned off by Seokjin’s warning tsk; if anything, it’s only encouraging him further.

 

Jungkook leaves a little dazed that day – streaks of caramel sauce patterning poorly shaped love hearts down his left arm, and a white flour-handprint on his chest. He can hear Seokjin struggling to hold in his laughter when Jungkook clumsily stumbles away, muttering some form of farewell and hoping that his bus home tonight isn’t too full.

 

///

 

It’s when this new form of teasing becomes a permanent fixture that Jungkook starts to panic. He can’t say he’s not enjoying the…flirting? Incessant cruelty performed as art on Jungkook’s body? but he also knows that he really doesn’t need some blown-out-of-proportion scandal right now, not this close to the finish line.

 

He can practically taste success, Taehyung is set on ruining the chances, and Jungkook’s really not about to do anything to stop him. It’s a mess. Jungkook’s a mess.

 

It’s been just over a week since the last elimination, since Jungkook’s internal realisation of great truth coupled with an existential crisis, and now as of the night prior, there’s only three contestants left – Taehyung, Seokjin, and himself.

 

With only the pair for company, Jungkook is finding it harder and harder to avoid Taehyung – not that he’s trying very hard, but it’s still a pain when there’s no one to hide behind, no space left unturned.

 

Jungkook’s messing around on his phone (Namjoon’s about project deadlines for the third time in six hours – and it’s only ten in the morning) in the dressing room, focused hard enough that he’s nearly shocked from his precarious seat perched on a make-up table as someone crashes in.

 

No one makes noise like that without reason, not unless-

 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung greets nonchalantly, like he’s not on all fours just inside the doorway. Jungkook nods in response, turning his attention back to the phone in his hands to tap out a quick response. He can hear Taehyung clambering to his feet, tottering over to hover a little too close for comfort.

 

“What you doing?” Taehyung asks, peering down at the phone screen. There’s nothing of importance there, so Jungkook doesn’t bother trying to hide the conversation by locking the screen, instead deciding to focus on Taehyung’s proximity – and ways to escape, fast.

 

They’ve still got at least five minutes before filming, maybe ten if they’re lucky (doubtful), so Jungkook figures he’s got nothing to lose by humouring Taehyung. “Nothing.”

 

Jungkook sets the phone down on the same benchtop he’s balanced on, backed by mirrors. He’s probably not meant to sit on here, but it hasn’t broken yet, so it’s probably fine. Probably.

 

Taehyung only backs off a little when Jungkook raises his head, hands now firmly on Jungkook’s knees with most of his weight pressing forward. He’ll overbalance them both if he’s not careful, but Jungkook has a surprising amount of faith that Taehyung knows what he’s doing (considering the man tripped over in the doorway just seconds earlier).

 

Jungkook wishes he could say he’s gotten used to this sort of thing by now, after nearly the whole week of increased touch and general playfulness, but he really really hasn’t. He feels himself blinking far too much – and the moment that he is truly aware of his own blinking is the moment everything turns for the worst.

 

He can’t figure out whether he’s supposed to focus on pushing Taehyung away gently, or how many times his eyes should close in the space of ten seconds – once, twice, more? Is he staring like an alien or blinking like he’s having a medical emergency? – but it’s sorted out for him pretty quickly.

 

“It’s weird only having us three here,” Taehyung says cheerfully, like this isn’t affecting him at all. His hand slides up Jungkook’s thigh, although judging by the look on Taehyung’s face, he doesn’t even realise what he’s doing.

 

Awareness is killing Jungkook though, as Taehyung’s fingers drum against Jungkook’s leg and a concerned look crosses his face. Jungkook blinks again, and curses himself for realising he’s doing it.

 

“You alright? You’re breathing funny,” Taehyung asks, cocking his head a little bit. It’s not really a surprise – they’re close enough that Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung could straight up hear his thoughts (don’t don’t don’t don’t. Don’t what? Don’t) – but still entirely unwelcome because now Jungkook has to come up with an answer.

 

Usually it doesn’t get this bad, and Taehyung backs off after a second or two. Whether that’s because his attention is suddenly trapped elsewhere or a friendly face has stepped in to unknowingly intervene, Jungkook doesn’t care. Neither of those things seem to be happening any time soon, not with the way Taehyung’s staring at him now, lips cast in the tiniest of Os.

 

Lips – . Jungkook does actually sigh this time, because now he’s gone and dug his own grave. May as well just die now anyway.

 

Of course, that’s not what Jungkook’s outward response is, even if he’s left the scene mentally. He’s not sure what order it happens in – Taehyung pressing a little closer, Jungkook impulsively throwing himself forward. Does Taehyung’s hand squeeze Jungkook’s thigh before or after they’re kissing? Did Jungkook even really initiate it in the first place?

 

Taehyung’s not gentle, and Jungkook doesn’t know why he would’ve expected such in the first place. It’s not the slow, drawn-out kiss of the rom-com variety, nor is it the kind of kiss Jungkook might dare to make at the end of a first date. Jungkook can feel himself slipping from the bench with the pressure Taehyung’s hands place on his knees, until he’s actually falling onto his feet – and then all boundaries are forgotten, all semblance of self-respect lost.

 

Jungkook gets lost in the way Taehyung mewls when he grips Taehyung’s hips, pulls him closer. He lets himself pretend this isn’t going to have repercussions as Taehyung’s hand slides from the side of Jungkook’s thigh to under his shirt, tracing up until it’s too far to pretend nothing is happening if, when, someone walks in. Jungkook is positively dizzy, and is certain he’d be on the ground in pieces if it weren’t for Taehyung pressing so close that there’s no space to move otherwise.

 

It’s not like Jungkook’s entirely innocent either, though. He’d be a fool to even try to lie about not wanting this, not needing this with every fibre in his body. Taehyung’s heavy yet pliable, letting Jungkook’s hands take control as he pushes against the curve in Taehyung’s back. He even sighs into Jungkook’s mouth as the hands run a little higher, a little lower. Their teeth click awkwardly, but Taehyung adjusts before Jungkook can consider otherwise.

 

And , Jungkook’s pretty sure he’s never kissed someone who felt so perfect. He’s kissed his fair share of strangers – mostly at underground university parties, but still – and yet he doesn’t feel disgusted by Taehyung’s tongue in his mouth; he’s never even considered that kissing someone could taste good, of all things. The way Taehyung’s leg slips between Jungkook’s feels natural, like they’ve been doing it all their life – Jungkook can’t help but press back.

 

In that moment, the world falls away. Jungkook couldn’t give a flying about the show, the competition, the producers. Taehyung’s here, and Junkook’s only purpose on this Earth is to make sure he feels good.

 

Taehyung actually whines when Jungkook breaks them apart, and Jungkook didn’t know he had a thing for Taehyung’s voice until that very second. His breath is short-lived, grabbing Taehyung to spin them around until their positions reverse, Taehyung backed up against the dresser and Jungkook leaning in. Jungkook doesn’t waste a second in crashing his lips back against Taehyung’s again, demanding more and more.

 

Jungkook isn’t holding back, because screw Taehyung and his incessant teasing. Taehyung’s leaning back far enough that his feet have left the ground entirely, wrapping around Jungkook’s legs to draw him closer as he tilts his chin higher to reach Jungkook.

 

When Taehyung’s hand climbs up to grip Jungkook’s hair, Jungkook takes the chance to roll his hips, relishing the breathy oh that makes its way out of Taehyung’s mouth – and Jungkook would give anything to hear that agai-

“Contestants to the stage,” blares the speaker overhead – and with that, Jungkook’s roughly thrown back in the real world.

 

He pulls away abruptly, and has to stifle a groan when he sees Taehyung properly. Dishevelled, spaced out, Jungkook could definitely get used to sight like this. His hair hangs in his eyes, his hands gripping the benchtop with white knuckles, but Jungkook can’t get over the look in Taehyung’s eyes.

 

“Oh, ,” Jungkook says out loud, mimicking Taehyung from just moments earlier but with an entirely new tone. “Oh, .”

 

The mirror behind Taehyung, who’s seemingly frozen in place, does nothing to help Jungkook. His hair is way messier than Taehyung’s, his lips swollen and shirt ruffled. He does his best to shake his hair back into place but he still looks blissed out, and the wrinkles won’t disappear no matter how Jungkook tucks his shirt back in.

 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because if he doesn’t get out of here now, there’ll be a whole crew of onlookers in here – and that’s a far worse prospect than plain assumptions from the film stage.

 

Jungkook lets out a deep breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding and spins on his heel to power-walk his way out the charged room. It doesn’t help in the slightest, Taehyung’s stunned face still plastered across his mind like someone had paid for a full-size billboard of hey look, you screwed up.

 

For the first time ever, though, Jungkook doesn’t listen to the voice inside his head.

 

///

 

Seokjin won’t stop staring at Jungkook as they wait for the final contestant to show up – and the knowing, smug grin Jungkook gets when Taehyung finally wanders in looking no different from how Jungkook left him has Jungkook blushing like nothing else.

 

At this point the producer doesn’t even bother asking Taehyung to clean himself up, waving a young woman on set to fix whatever beautiful mess Jungkook had made.

 

I did that – and Jungkook can’t help but crave doing it again.

 

///

 

It’s business as usual once Jungkook gets cooking, except for the way Taehyung very blatantly avoids looking in Jungkook’s direction at all. It’s the quietest the set has ever been, without Taehyung’s rowdy behaviour and loud humour, but Jungkook doesn’t mind – he can see the way Taehyung’s ears stay a permanent red the entire round.

 

Jungkook knows he has what it to takes to win, and almost forgets what that means as the final scores roll in. Seokjin, of course, is on top – and Jungkook does. not. lose. The world goes fuzzy when their names appear on the digital scoreboard, but not for the reasons Jungkook expects. He can hear Taehyung’s laugh somewhere ahead, but can’t move away as stagehands run on set to congratulate Jungkook and pull him away for those very special promo shots. He’s won for now, but at what cost?

 

In fact, Jungkook doesn’t get to see Taehyung at all, locked away in the recording booth with question and question to answer. By the time he gets out, the sun has long since disappeared and taken Taehyung with it.

 

///

 

Jungkook’s brother won’t stop bugging him about the results, every waking moment is spent tagging Jungkook’s footsteps to ask if he’ll be going back into the studio in two days time. Jungkook wishes he could answer without risking everything, but alas, his contract says otherwise. He’s pretty sure his brother would never tell anyone, but one little slip and the news would spread around the local high school like wildfire.

 

His mother doesn’t ask, only expresses over and over how proud she is of Jungkook like she already knows he’s won. The faith in his skills leaves Jungkook feeling elated.

 

He’s already made his mind up, though, as he walks back into the old warehouse for the last time. His only regret was not getting Taehyung’s number, his social media, anything. The last week had been hell, knowing that Jungkook would never see Taehyung again without divine intervention. Even their cramped little house had felt too quiet for Jungkook’s liking - he never thought he’d say it, but Jungkook outright missed Taehyung’s bouncy energy. He couldn’t linger on that, though. There was a competition to win, and sulking under his bed covers was going to do nothing to help right now.

 

“Good luck,” Seokjin says warmly, extending his hand out. “You’re a good chef.”

 

Jungkook takes it, and even smiles back. “So are you.”

 

Seokjin laughs, breaking away. “May the best man win!” he says in a sing-song tone, like the nerves aren’t totally crushing him down. Jungkook is envious – he can’t remember a time when he’s been more nervous than this, standing in front of the cameras in the centre of the room, ingredients lined up across his bench just waiting to be turned into another great dish.

 

For you, Dad. He hopes that somewhere, his father is proud – their dream will come true regardless of what happens today, Jungkook will make sure of that.

 

The room is oddly quiet and shrouded in darkness, usually echoing with noise as everyone prepares and shining bright with stage lights beaming in every direction. There’s just the two of them now, and a handful of production workers. The head producer sits on his chair at the front of the room, somehow still scowling at Seokjin. An assistant runs a camera up to Jungkook’s shoulder, focused squarely on his face to capture his expression for whatever bombshell the host and judges are about to drop on the show. Jungkook fiddles with his apron ties.

 

The producer gives the signal, a lazy wave of his hand, and the show is off to start. The host’s voice booms across the silence – Jungkook still can’t get used to not hearing the classic theme song behind his voice, even after all these weeks. It would be added in post-edit, of course, but it still felt weird.

 

Jungkook does his best to look pleasing to the eye, keeping the frown off his face and holding his head high. No need to ruin his reputation in the final episode over some nervous energy.

 

Jungkook’s not paying attention at all to whatever spiel the host is giving to the cameras, so it catches him by surprise when the host references Seokjin and Jungkook directly. “We’ve got a little surprise for our contestants here, don’t we?”

 

The judges nod in unison, smiling their show smiles, and Jungkook finds himself scared for his life. Surely they wouldn’t change up the entire show in the last episode, right?

 

Three successive loud bangs shake Jungkook from his thoughts, and he’s momentarily blinded by the bright lights that suddenly fill the room. He raises a hand to cover his eyes only to realise that the lights are all pointing away from the stage, instead aimed at the rows of benches set up in the balcony overseeing the filming area.

 

“Kookie!”

 

Jungkook’s face goes bright red and for once, he can’t help the smile as Namjoon leans precariously over the edge of the railing to wave his arms wildly. Jungkook’s mother has a firm grasp on the back of Namjoon’s sweater in one hand, stopping him from toppling right over the edge, while she cups with another. “Go Jungkook!”

 

Jungkook’s brother is no better than Namjoon, jumping up and down on the lowest wooden bench and yelling wildly. The warmth in Jungkook spreads from head to toe almost immediately, and he can’t help but fall into a squat next to his bench with his hands over his mouth.

 

There’s a substantial amount of noise coming from what Jungkook can only assume is Seokjin’s family and friends, including an ear-piecing scream that seems to never end, but it doesn’t even begin to block out that oh-so-familiar voice:

 

“Jungkook-ah!”

 

Taehyung’s standing on the bench right next to Jungkook’s brother, clapping his hands and beaming his thousand-watt smile. He looks so happy, so perfect, and after a week of radio silence and the utmost belief that Jungkook would never be seeing him again, it’s enough to make Jungkook lose his composure entirely.

 

He cries, tears streaming down his face and tasting salty through his wide smile. Jungkook couldn’t even care less as the cameras blatantly zoom in on Jungkook’s face – this is the happiest he’s felt in a long while, and nothing can take that down now.

 

With his family and best friend – and Taehyung! – behind him, Jungkook’s more than ready to do what he has to do.

 

///

 

While Jungkook finally lets himself go, Seokjin deals with a different issue.

 

“ yeah!”

 

“Kill it, hyung!”

 

The producers already hate Seokjin, he knows that much, but it almost feels good when he sees how they glare at him now for his obnoxious, foul-mouthed entourage screaming from the stand. Hoseok isn’t even bothering with words at this point, resorting to screaming unintelligibly in Seokjin’s general direction.

 

Seokjin wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

///

 

For the final round, the contestants are allowed to choose whatever dish they please with no parameters restricting them. Whatever Seokjin is cooking smells fantastic, but Jungkook doesn’t spare a moment to see as he whips up his own dish.

 

Seaweed Soup is plain, simple, and very unlikely to wow any of the judges compared to whatever Seokjin presents. Jungkook knows this, pouring salt straight from the grinder into his pot. It hurts a little and he can almost hear his father yelling at him for such carelessness, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

 

His father never liked the way Jungkook used to get lazy with his dishes, even strived to teach him the exact right way to handle every ingredient. It didn’t change anything – whenever his father turned his back, Jungkook would go right back to casually throwing in whatever he’d prepared. Of course, even back then Jungkook still adhered to the right measurements for everything; he just didn’t think it mattered as much when the food would taste good no matter what.

 

“You can’t go wrong with miyeok-guk,” his father would say, showing Jungkook exactly how to stir the pot to avoid crushing the seaweed. “It was the only thing your mother would drink when she was pregnant with you.”

 

“Remember, Jungkook – my secret ingredient.”

 

Child-Jungkook would nod along eagerly, and it made Jungkook smile now to even just think of it. It was one of his favourite memories with his father, the one he held closest to his heart.

 

“Love is the best ingredient. Make seaweed soup with love for your family, your friends, and you’ll never go astray.”

 

///

 

“There’s too much pepper,” the judge critiques. “It reduces all your other flavours to nothing.”

 

For the first time, Jungkook only smiles and nods.

 

///

 

His score is mediocre at best, given what he’s capable of, but it’s exactly what he’d asked for.

When the time comes, Jungkook draws Seokjin into a hug, tells him congratulations – and he means it. Seokjin is a good cook, and he’ll go far; he deserves this. Seokjin tells him the same thing, and Jungkook actually believes his kind words.

 

Besides, whether he knows it or not, Seokjin was always meant to win. Jungkook never stood a chance, he’s known as much since the day he caught Seokjin arguing with the producer – even if he didn’t want to accept it.

 

This is good for Jungkook, and he’s more than ready for the next step.

 

Seokjin’s pulled away by the producers, whisked away to give his acceptance speech to an audience of millions through the camera. Jungkook doesn’t mind, already turning away from the rush and clamour. Taehyung’s face has disappeared from next to his family up in the stands, and Jungkook wastes no time making his way to the hallway adjoining the staircase.

 

Regardless of how the scores fall, Jungkook knows he's won.