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The real chaos ensues once they hear he has to quit his anxiety medications.
By comparison, telling them about the pregnancy has been blissfully uneventful, with just the right amount of cooing and back pats. Of course, Taehyung cried, but Taehyung’s tear duct production equals, roughly, the total amount of rainfall across the world in a year.
So, Yoongi considered himself lucky.
That is, until the appointment with his psychiatrist.
He breaks the news as casually as possible over a group dinner, hoping to avoid unnecessary meddling by affecting indifference.
In fact, a blanket of silence envelops the entire table. Yoongi busies himself with his overfilled plate, waiting. After a while he looks up, finding five pairs of eyes staring at his face, all of them displaying a different flavor of worry.
And then, all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts talking at the exact same time, filling the room with a cacophony of voices and the clattering of plates and knives.
Yoongi takes a deep breath and starts doing what he always does when his friends behave like a bunch of hooligans: he pretends to be an anthropologist studying a distant tribe, keeping a calm and curious disposition while trying not to judge them.
He starts by cataloging their reactions.
First, there’s Namjoon. He speaks the least, his face showing with a worrying accuracy all five stages of grief before he gets his phone out and starts searching through all the literature concerning pregnancy and meds.
“There must be some other med you can switch to that’s safe for the baby.” it’s the first full sentence Yoongi hears from him, which manages to quieten down some of the confusion.
Most of them seem to agree with him, Hoseok nodding knowingly along as if he has any idea of what they’re talking about.
Yoongi puts his own fork and knife down before speaking “Yes, but none of them are a hundred percent safe, besides-” he raises his voice when he sees Namjoon trying to interrupt him while pressing his thumb on some jstor paper with a title that’s five sentences long “My psychiatrist wants to see if I can manage my symptoms without meds after taking them for a few years.”
“Are you sure that’s the best moment to try, though?”
Jimin’s expression is a perfect mix of worry and sadness, with just a pinch of guilt tripping to make Yoongi’s blood boil and his hands itch to throw a plate at his perfect cheekbone. Not very anthropologist-like of him.
“Yeah, you will already have your hands full with a newborn, without wanting to add a relapse. I mean, having children sucks -no offense- at least make it bearable.”
Seokjin delivers his speech without stopping to chew, one cheek full of potatoes. Yoongi is ready to throw that plate, now.
Luckily, his boyfriend chooses that moment to intervene. Jungkook puts a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, probably squeezing it tightly judging by Seokjin’s coughs, and says as calmly as he can
“As he said, the meds can be harmful to the baby, there are a lot of conditions that-”
“Yo, why are you so chill about it?” Hoseok gestures vaguely toward Jungkook “Shouldn’t you be more worried about this? Are you really okay with it?”
Yoongi’s mouth opens to answer, but Jungkook’s faster.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?”
They know that when he is angry he never raises his voice. This time is no exception.
“Yoongi talked with both his psychiatrist and gp before he decided. He didn’t take it lightly. And also” he shifts to look at everyone at the table “If you really are worried about him having a relapse, then maybe having his family’s support might be a good start.”
He sighs through his mouth, deflating like a balloon, and peers at Yoongi from across the table. He mouths Sorry as if he has anything to be sorry about. Yoongi just smiles at him.
Taehyung, which has remained mostly silent throughout the argument, is reclined in his seat, eyes to the ceiling, when suddenly he hums and looks right at Yoongi
“Are you going to quit them gradually or cold turkey?”
“Gradually.”
“And your psychiatrist is going to monitor you?”
“Of course, every week.”
Taehyung smiles softly.
“Are you happy to quit them?”
Yoongi looks down at his hands.
“Not exactly. I’m not happy and I’m not sad. They helped me so much, but it might be nice to know I’m well enough to stop taking them. The doctor told me I will likely experience some anxiety during the pregnancy, but that might stop once I give birth. If I have to take them again after I stop breastfeeding I will, though.”
Taehyung hums again and goes back to staring at the ceiling, still smiling.
Yoongi doesn’t know where to put his reaction, but he is glad Taehyung’s here.
Hoseok looks at him, sighing “Look, I’m sorry, I’m just worried.”
Yoongi nods, trying to reassure him.
“Promise you’ll let us help you, though. Not just the pregnancy, that’s obvious. With the transition, I mean.”
Jimin has lost the sad expression, thankfully, and is now endearingly serious, so Yoongi abandons the idea of throwing a plate at him and decides to hug him later instead. Such huge emotional shifts are usually the norm in his and Jimin’s daily interactions.
“I promise.”
*
“I don’t like how they treated you.”
They are doing their night skincare routine together, in front of the huge mirror with two sinks in the master bathroom.
Yoongi has a cool sheet mask that stinks of cucumber moisturizing his face, and he is rubbing his cheeks with a rolling contraption on a stick, without really knowing why he is doing it apart from being something his dermatologist showed him.
“They’re just worried.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
Jungkook is massaging serums into his face with the help of something that looks more like a two-headed clit massager than a beauty device.
Yoongi puts the roller down and peels the sheet mask off his face. He looks at Jungkook in the mirror, then sighs while reaching for a towel.
“They saw how it can be. They were there.”
He feels a hand coming to rest on his lower back.
“It won’t be like that. Doctor Park is monitoring you. You have a different awareness now.” A light kiss on his temple, Jungkook resting his lips there for a moment, his voice almost whispering into his ear “You have me.”
Yoongi turns to hug him tight.
*
After a month off meds, Yoongi’s obsessive thoughts slowly start to creep in again, this time latching onto the most obvious source of anxiety.
He’s scared shitless about his baby’s health.
He constantly tries his temperature, afraid it will rise too much, meaning an infection is taking course; he checks his fingers and toes for signs of unusual swelling; he lightly puts a finger on his wrist, cupping the small bone, to feel his heartbeat.
That’s how Namjoon finds him, one afternoon. The sky is a wonderful shade of blue, and a light breeze ruffles the ends of the strands of hair under his beanie. He is waiting for his friend on the curb outside a cafè, eyes resolutely cast down, large palm pressing around his wrist. He thinks he’s being subtle. And in the beginning, he probably is. But when Namjoon arrives and they sit down in their favorite cafè -Namjoon getting a large coffee which Yoongi eyes desperately while sipping on his bland herbal tea- he can’t quite keep his leg from shaking, and his finger from brushing constantly against his vein. He tries to keep up with the conversation, and successfully quips in when he’s supposed to. But Namjoon can be observant when he wants, and lately, everyone in their circle has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for Yoongi to go crazy. The notion tastes bitter on his tongue, and he swallows it down with a sip of peppermint.
“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asks, eyes big and round, looking like a cute puppy even if he’s built like a brick wall.
Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“Why shouldn’t it?”
Namjoon clears his throat “Well, you seem nervous.”
“I am just under-caffeinated.” he hopes the conversation is now closed, and he mimics his hope by setting his palms on the table, feeling the entire surface with his nerve endings. It’s a small mindfulness trick. No trick has been helping him, lately.
Of course, Namjoon chooses to stay oblivious to his body language “Are the obsessive thoughts coming back?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, keeps swinging his leg, and picks up the cup. It’s warm and feels nice. Will it be good for the baby? He didn’t check if there was any herb that could be detrimental to their health. Maybe he needs to google it.
He taps the type of blend into his phone and starts scrolling, almost absent-mindedly, when a large hand comes into his field of vision. Namjoon takes his wrist gently,
“You know, I read that a bit of movement can help with anxiety. Do you want to take a ride with me? I have a spare bike.”
Against his better judgment, Yoongi agrees.
*
Three hours and one sprained ankle later -thankfully not his- Yoongi comes back home, drenched in sweat and with his legs stiff as boards.
When Jungkook looks at him quizzically, eyebrows furrowed and mouth crunching chips, Yoongi lifts both his palms up and angrily says “Namjoon. Bike. Don’t ask.” before stomping to the bathroom to take a shower.
Jungkook doesn’t ask, but when he gets out of the shower, still naked, pink, and refreshed, he is waiting for him on the bed with food and a movie ready.
Yoongi forgets about the world for a few hours.
*
Another funny symptom is insomnia.
He stays up well into the early hours of the night counting how many steps it takes from the couch to the fridge and to the bathroom (his bladder is very sensitive, thank you very much). He doesn’t know whether insomnia fuels his anxiety, or the anxiety causes insomnia, but they are clearly working in sync.
One of his new obsessions is checking the toilet paper after he wipes for any sign of blood. In his worst moments going to the bathroom becomes a Herculean task, at the same time eager and too afraid to check.
During those long nights, he manages to escape Jungkook’s worried presence either by waiting for him to fall asleep before quietly exiting the bedroom, or making use of the nights he sometimes still spends working.
He just needs to resist for a few more months.
*
After Namjoon’s failed attempt at helping him, the others decide they might as well try it.
So Jimin makes him begin a journal, Hoseok takes him to some kind of mindfulness class, and Taehyung just gives him massages when he comes visiting.
He journals for three days straight before tossing the notepad into a drawer and forgetting completely about it; he fidgets so much during the mindfulness class that the teacher kindly asks them to leave (“But I have ADHD!” he says, to which the teacher replies “Kindly pay your fee at the front desk before leaving please”); the only thing that vaguely helps is Taehyung’s neck and feet massages.
He is actually atrocious at it, rubbing either so softly he can’t feel a thing or so roughly his skin stays red for half an hour, but there’s something really soothing about Taehyung's presence. They chat idly, Taehyung always three steps ahead in the conversation inside his head, but by now Yoongi’s sort of an expert at understanding perfectly what he is saying, even when to an outside spectator it might mean nothing.
The great thing is that when Jungkook finds them huddled on the sofa - Yoongi with a foot propped up on Taehyung’s thigh - he actually sits down with them, usually on the floor, and then he collects Yoongi’s other foot and starts rubbing at it too.
And Jungkook’s really good at massages.
When his boyfriend slides towards the sofa, fingers inching up on his calf and thigh muscles, Yoongi will start to stroke his hair, plunging his hand into the messy strands. Jungkook will turn soft, resting his head along Yoongi’s thigh, sighing tenderly.
They will spend entire nights like that, and those are precious moments, where maybe Yoongi’s thoughts are not forgotten, but they are certainly quieter.
*
By his fifth month, Yoongi is ready to combust.
Everyone is constantly checking up on him, disguising their worry under the pretense of trying to help, but it just really makes Yoongi feel like a ticking bomb.
One day he is actually thinking about blocking Namjoon’s phone number after his fifth call in the span of two hours, Hyung I found an herb that might help, Yoongi I’m sending you this article about Chinese acupuncture we should try it, Hey Yoonie check your email I just sent you the contact of a good chiropractor, Hey did you know that masturbation lowers cortisol levels by 38% in pregnant people?
Yoongi just wants to eat, watch a drama and forget about his bulging belly for about an hour. So when the phone rings yet again he doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering with a scathing
“Joon, if you send me one more stupid article about the benefits of masturbation I’m going to break your legs, pregnant or not.”
“Wow, thank god I’m not Namjoon then.”
He sighs “Hyung.”
“Woah, take it easy, don’t get so emotional all at once.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes and sighs again “My answer is no.”
“Yah! You don’t even know what I was gonna tell you.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Oh, okay then, please do tell me what I was gonna say.”
Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers, feeling a headache slowly spreading behind his eyes.
“I’m fine. The baby’s fine. We’re fine. I don’t need any more coddling, remedy or, God forbids, magic charm, thank you very much.”
A bit of silence on the other end. Then
“Yeah, the picture of relaxation. Astounding.”
Yoongi puckers his lips “What’s that tone?”
“Stop being such a pain in the ass. I just wanted to invite you fishing.” Seokjin sighs dramatically “But you seem way too occupied to spend some time with your only hyung.”
Yoongi considers it
“On one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“You don’t give any unsolicited advice. Not a single bit. On anything.”
“I solemnly swear to be as unhelpful as possible.”
*
Their fishing trip is actually nice. Yoongi brings a book that he doesn’t actually read, spending his time talking with Seokjin, checking his fixed line, and napping on the squishy deck chair of the private reservoir where they usually go.
Seokjin is good company; he keeps his promise, never offering unsolicited advice, maintaining the conversation light, talking about the baby without brushing on Yoongi’s OCD even once.
It’s nice to be treated like a human being and not a ticking time bomb.
*
That night he comes home after the sun has set, finding Jungkook playing video games on the couch in the living room.
Yoongi feels lighter than he has in weeks; even his feet are lighter, he thinks.
He sits down on the couch beside Jungkook, who brings him a plate of soft tofu stew, which his mother says is the best meal when pregnant. Yoongi likes that it’s hot and easy to digest even when your child is squishing your stomach into your diaphragm.
“How was today?”
Jungkook sets the controller aside and turns towards Yoongi, who is now eating voraciously.
“Good, I went fishing with Jin.”
“Oh.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything else for a while. Yoongi keeps eating until his spoon scratches the bottom of the bowl, then he tips the dish towards his mouth to swallow the last drops of silky broth.
Jungkook is still silent.
“Is everything okay?”
Yoongi looks at him: he is looking at the tv, where the game he was playing is now paused, but it’s clear that he is not focusing on it.
Jungkook munches on his lower lip for a moment before answering “Yeah, yeah.” but he doesn’t sound convincing.
Yoongi places the bowl down and sits back on the cushions.
“What is it?” Unconsciously he rests a hand on his belly, which is starting to show “Kookie?”
Jungkook finally looks at him, serious “I don’t think you should go fishing while pregnant.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s just…” He picks at a loose thread in his pants with two fingers, twirling it around “A lot of sun and temperature changes. I don’t think it’s good for the baby.”
A wave of nausea hits Yoongi. Why didn’t he think of it? Maybe he hurt the baby? Oh God, oh God, the only time he doesn’t let his obsessive thoughts in it’s the only time he should have listened to them? What if something happened?
“Yoongi, baby, breathe. Nothing happened, I’m sure of it. I’m sorry I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. Breathe.”
Jungkook is nearer than before, sitting right beside Yoongi, clutching one of his hands into his own big and warm one. He slowly and calmly mimics taking big breaths in with his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. Following him, Yoongi starts to breathe normally again, somehow managing not to cry.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure nothing happened and it’s not really harmful. You wore sunscreen, right? And you were covered enough, and never in direct sunlight, right?”
Yoongi nods. Of course. He always pays attention to those things. Jungkook knows.
“See? I was worried for nothing. You always think of everything.” Jungkook kisses his knuckles, light, firm kisses that help ground him “You are amazing, always so careful. I’m sorry I put doubts in your head.”
“It’s okay. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
Yoongi breathes normally now, panic attack completely gone.
They pass the rest of the night cuddling on the sofa, Jungkook threading his fingers softly into his hair and murmuring sweet nothings against his temples, scattering kisses along his face. Yoongi curls around his strong warm body, thinking that this way, bracketed between the two people who love them the most, their baby is finally completely safe. At least for now.
*
Despite his intrusive thoughts telling him otherwise, Yoongi goes fishing with Seokjin again. They make it a ritual of sorts.
Once or twice a week, usually in the late afternoon, Seokjin picks Yoongi up and drives them to the reservoir. There they drink; beer for Seokjin, sparkly lemonade for Yoongi; they talk and laugh and nap. Sometimes they catch something, only to release it immediately, as per the reservoir indications.
Yoongi’s belly keeps growing, while his insecurities shrink down. His anxiety seems smaller; if it looked like a pillar before, now it’s a needle. But that needle can still hurt very much in the right conditions.
His worse fear, right now, is anxiety itself.
Stress is the worst for pregnancies, he knows. The more anxious he feels, the worse for the baby, and the more anxiety he feels in return. It’s an endless cycle, that he manages to break on certain occasions.
One of those occasions is his fishing trips with Seokjin.
There’s something in him, a calm chaotic nature, that puts Yoongi immensely at ease. He can’t explain it any better.
The other occasion is when he’s with Jungkook. Just Jungkook in general is good for his mood, boosting his serotonin quite efficiently.
But in the last couple of weeks, he has begun to act strangely, ever since the first time Yoongi went fishing and had a panic attack. Every time he comes back from one of his afternoons with Seokjin, Jungkook is tense. It’s a subtle change, one that Yoongi itself might be unable to recognize under different circumstances. But one benefit of anxiety’s fueled hypervigilance is being perfectly aware of others' emotions and turmoils.
He doesn’t know what to do, though. So he just waits.
*
“So, how are you holding up? You’re already at what, 20 weeks?”
“22.”
Doctor Park smiles kindly, arms braced against the light wood of her desk. The office is luminous and warm, it doesn’t look like a psychiatrist's studio. Behind the doctor’s back there’s a small metallic cabinet, with a child drawing of a red flower into a yellow frame. Yoongi strokes his bump absent-mindedly.
“How are your friends acting? Still worried?”
He huffs “More overbearing, I’d say.”
She hums, resting back on her chair.
“How does that make you feel?”
Before coming to Doctor Park he thought that question could be annoying, and insincere. But from her lips, it always sounds genuine, like she will truly listen to the answer. In fact, she generally does.
“It pisses me off. But I manage.”
She nods slowly, looking at him for a few seconds, deep in thought.
“Then what is it that’s been bothering you?”
He fidgets, adjusting on the chair. It’s incredibly comfortable, but staying sat in the same position for more than five minutes numbs his right foot. He shakes his ankle lightly.
“It’s Jungkook.”
She hums, waiting for him to continue.
“He’s just…” Yoongi huffs again, deeper “He’s treating me like everyone else’s does. And I don’t know why, but from him, it’s way worse. I understand he’s worried, but I don’t think I deserve to be treated like a ticking time bomb. I never did anything so drastic and I always, always picked up my own shit. So I really can’t accept him, of all people, treating me like that. And he’s also in a mood, and I don’t know why, ‘cause he won’t talk to me.”
He finishes his tirade with a sigh, gathering his hands into his lap and looking down at his feet. God, he’s such a teenager sometimes.
“So you still avoid confrontation.”
He frowns “What?”
She writes something down on her notepad, then rests her elbow on the armrest, supporting her cheek. Her eyes are piercing in their focus.
“You want Jungkook to stop walking on eggshells around you, yet you don’t tell him. You think there’s something on his mind and you feel worried, yet you don’t ask him. You don’t even talk clearly with your friends about how they could support you best.” She pauses, gaze unflinching “What are you afraid of?”
He stares back at his lap, smoothing invisible lines on his soft trousers.
“I guess I don’t want to know the truth.” A pause. He reflects on how to word his thoughts. “What if they treat me like this because they think I can’t take care of myself? Or, worse, of my child? What if Jungkook is worried about our future?”
“Have you talked with him about the possibility of not taking your meds anymore?”
“Kind of. Not in depth.”
“You should though. He shouldn’t expect you to behave exactly as you did while medicated.”
“I haven’t mentioned the fact that I might be okay with dealing with my OCD without meds, even with symptoms.”
“Take your time, start with dealing with what’s on your plate now. Avoiding it won’t solve it, Yoongi.”
He nods, deep in thought.
*
That weekend they have dinner at Yoongi and Jungkook’s apartment. Hoseok and Jimin are abroad, so it’s just the five of them sitting around the same table where Yoongi first told them, months prior, that he was pregnant; and where, some weeks after, he told them about stopping his meds.
Seokjing has come inside half an hour before with a big styrofoam container, bragging that he would be cooking the fish he and Yoongi caught the day prior.
Jungkook’s jaw had tightened, but he had said nothing, bringing the fish in the kitchen for Seokjin to scale and cook. A bit anxiously, Yoongi had been the one requested to assist him in the preparation, being the only one of them with any competency at cooking fish.
By the time they brought the dish out, Jungkook’s teeth were ready to crumble by how much he was clamping his jaw.
It’s during dessert that the topic of their fishing trips comes up again, though, and Seokjin, a bit drunk, a bit exuberant, talks lengthly about their adventures, as he calls them. Everyone laughs; Jungkook mostly smiles.
“And then, you know, it’s not just for Yoongi-yah, here. I always do a service to Jungkook, too.”
They laugh, but not Jungkook
“What do you mean?”
“Well” Seokjin takes another sip from his wine glass, a bit calmer “I guess going out a bit and relaxing helps with, you know, the anxiety stuff.”
But Jungkook is not satisfied
“And how would this be a service to me?”
Seokjin glances around, furrowing his brows “What? It’s just a joke.”
“Please explain it to me.” he sits back in his chair, opening his legs a bit and pressing his hands above his thighs.
“God Kook, it’s just a joke. I meant like,” he fumbles with the napkin “How if he relaxes he will be in good spirits at home. That’s all.”
“Well, nobody needs your help. I can take care of my partner on my own, don’t need your services for sure.”
“Come on Jaykay.” Namjoon tries to calm them, but he’s looking at Yoongi like he’s the one that needs to be contained or else he’ll explode.
Seokjin laughs, but it’s that laugh he makes when he is uncomfortable “What crawled up your ass and died, Jungkook-ah?”
“Why do you use honorifics only when you need to make a point, Jin-ah?”
Yoongi chooses that moment to intervene.
“Is everyone forgetting I am an adult capable of taking care of himself?” He looks between Jungkook and Seokjin “I certainly don’t need anyone’s care. I choose to be helped by you, but that’s it. My choice. Because I’m not some poor kitten on the street.”
They both try to speak at the same time, but Yoongi raises a hand and continues before they can interrupt him.
“And another thing: I’m sick and tired of everyone” he looks at the entire table “Treating me like I am going to explode if not handed like precious china. I have OCD, not a bomb inside. You want to help me? Then fucking listen to me and don’t treat me any different just because I am anxious as fuck.”
During his speech, he raised his voice. No one is used to him talking like that, and neither to his anger.
Jungkook and Seokjin look positively chastised. Taehyung, who was sitting in front of Yoongi, gets up and rounds the table, coming to squat beside him. He brings his arms around his bump and hugs him.
Then, he speaks directly to his belly.
“If you get even an inch of your momma’s spirit you’re gonna set the world on fire.”
Yoongi smiles and pets his hair. Thank God for Taehyung.
Everyone smiles and laughs. Jungkook pats his neck, embarrassed. He and Seokjin murmur apologies to each other, and then they finish their dessert.
*
Once everyone is gone, they prepare for the night.
Yoongi hasn’t spoken a word to Jungkook. Not because he is giving him the silent treatment, but because he wants to give him space to process the night, and maybe his feelings.
He settles down into bed, propping his back against the soft frame. Since a couple of weeks ago he has started sleeping with a long moon-shaped pregnancy cushion wedged between his legs and under his belly, so he prepares it on the edge of the bed, while Jungkook changes Bam’s water.
He’s so anxious he can almost feel his nerves thrumming. Still, he busies himself with a book, opening it on his lap. The soft pitter-patter of Bam’s thick nails and the quiet shuffling of Jungkook’s feet are the sounds he always associates with the quietness of nighttime. The moment he loves the most during their day, when they can relax into each other arms, talk quietly and kiss softly, or laugh until their belly hurts, or maybe just exchange slow pats while reading. He tries to focus on those feelings instead of the gnawing doubts and fears he has amassed in his tiny head in the span of two hours.
By the time Jungkook has finished preparing for the night, Yoongi hasn’t been able to read a single sentence of his book. He closes it, nestling a bookmark where it was right before picking it up, and looks towards his boyfriend, who is now changing into his bedclothes.
He wishes to wait for Jungkook to start talking, because it’s easier this way. Easier to attune himself to the tone the other person chooses to begin the discussion. Easier to navigate emotions and turmoil. But maybe they’re stalling because Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. He can feel himself start speaking before he really means to.
“What happened tonight?”
Jungkook looks surprised by the sudden noise, like a cat. He turns towards the bed, hair disheveled by the black t-shirt he just put on. Yoongi feels his heart clench.
But then Jungkook turns again towards the dresser and begins folding and putting things away. Yoongi scoots closer to the edge of the bed.
“Nothing happened, what do you mean?”
He sounds dismissive.
“Your fight with Jin.”
A light pause “I don’t know what you’re talking about. By the way, have you seen my gym bag? The Adidas one?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I haven’t seen it in a while and I need it for tomorrow.”
“I don’t know where your fucking bag is, Jungkook, can you stick to the topic for five minutes?”
“There is no topic, I just didn’t like the way he talked about you.”
“Then why were you acting so strange around him even before?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you were already nervous when he walked through the door. I could see that. And even before that, every time I went fishing.”
Jungkook sighs “Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but I wasn’t nervous. Can we please just go to bed?”
He is still looking through the dresser, so Yoongi scoots a little more and grabs his arm, pulling lightly. Jungkook turns: his eyes are sad and he is clearly trying not to look at Yoongi.
He feels a pang in his chest. Lifting up onto his knees, he comes eye to eye with Jungkook, cupping his face delicately. He is still trying to avoid his eyes, but Yoongi calls him softly “Bun, please, look at me.”
Jungkook does and when their eyes meet he sighs again, and wraps one of his arms around Yoongi’s growing waist, the other hand coming up, cupping one of Yoongi’s.
“What is it? You can talk with me, you know.” He tucks a wayward strand of soft hair behind his ear, finger lightly tracing a furrowed brow. At the motion, Jungkook closes his eyes.
When he reopens them, he’s serious “I want to be the person you and our child deserve.”
Yoongi wants to say something, but he is too stunned to speak, so after a couple of seconds Jungkook keeps talking.
“Sometimes I have the feeling the others still see us as when we first started dating.” Jungkook grabs Yoongi’s hands and places them around his neck, then he cups one of his cheeks, thumb lightly swiping back and forth. “The insufferable little brother who doesn’t understand that his hyung needs someone mature, someone who could take care of him better, even if he doesn’t need to. Someone better.” Jungkook sighs again “But I know it’s just my insecurities speaking, and that they don’t think I’m a wrong fit for you. Most of the time. When everyone wanted to help you adjust I was so happy. They were there for you when you needed them. We were all here for you. But then Jin stepped up and began to invite you every other day. And whenever I saw him he would just tease me, as he always does, and I know” he stresses that word “that he doesn’t mean anything malicious with it, but I just… I can’t stand the thought that maybe, just maybe, he might really think I’m not good enough to help you now that you need it. I can’t stand the thought that you might think it too.” Jungkook finishes his tirade looking down, sad and defeated.
Finally, Yoongi manages to speak “That’s fucking stupid.”
Jungkook looks up, shocked, and starts spluttering “Wha-”
“That. Is. Fucking. Stupid.” he accentuates every word by shaking him lightly by his arms. “There is no one that helps me like you.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes “Yeah sure.”
“Am I one for platitudes?” he asks, voice hard. Jungkook looks at him and shakes his head. “Then don’t dismiss what I say as if it was.” before the other can interrupt him, he continues “Yeah, going fishing with Jin helped me for the few hours I was there, but when I came home and the obsessive thoughts ate at me, it was you who I always turned to. Always.”
“But-”
Yoongi holds up a hand “Let me finish, please. If anything, I am the one who is probably not suited for this whole thing, and you are the one who could do better.”
Jungkook furrows his brows and shakes his head as if to ask ‘what?’
“My own brain is my worst enemy, and I’m supposed to raise a child and have a normal life while living with this constant obsessing and over-analyzing and I might harm our own baby with the amount of anxiety I carry. I always need others to support me, to help me. And if you were worried about it, I would understand, really.”
“And it’s me who says stupid shit, right?”
Yoongi swats him lightly on the shoulder “I mean it, I am not-”
“Shut up, you are being ridiculous.” Jungkook pecks him swiftly on the lips to shut him up.
“Don’t kiss me when we’re having a serious talk!” Yoongi tries to squeeze away, but Jungkook’s stronger. The more he rebels, the more he hugs him tight, laughing that high-pitched laughter of his, while his nose scrunches up. He keeps giving him little pecks, until Yoongi laughs too, all gums. When he stops fighting Jungkook stops smothering him, keeping him close and smiling. Yoongi gets even closer, as much as his growing bump permits, trying to feel the solid weight of Jungkook’s chest and abs against the rounded curve of his belly.
“You’re stupid because you really think I might think any less of you for your anxiety. I never have and never will. You’ll be an amazing father.”
Yoongi dissimulates how shy he feels by grabbing onto Jungkook’s arms and sliding his palms up until he circles his neck. Then he angles his body even more towards his boyfriend. If one were to put a sheet of paper between them, it wouldn’t fall.
“I will always be there to help you.”
“Then help me now.” Yoongi says quietly. Anxiety’s aggressive tide has receded a bit, just enough to silence the majority of his obsessions, but he can feel it mounting again, ready to strike the beach. It’s almost as if his body is holding onto so much emotion even when his mind appears calm, so much that it needs to explode somewhere else.
Jungkook opens his eyes wide.
“Are you anxious right now, love?”
“Yeah.” He looks away, scared that it might be too much to ask right now, after the long night they had.
But Jungkook’s never been scared of emotions.
“Let’s get on the bed, alright?”
***
They undress slowly, a constant stream of kisses and laughter.
One undeniable advantage of pregnancy is a newfound sensitivity, born out of the increased blood flow, which makes him so reactive.
Or, in a nutshell, he is easily aroused.
Jungkook enjoys it the utmost, but he has been careful these past few weeks, ever since Yoongi’s obsessive thoughts have come back. Tonight he lets go and finally enjoys Yoongi’s body the way he wants to, without inhibitions and fears.
They end up laying on their side, close to each other, Jungkook teasing Yoongi’s leaking cock with the pad of a finger. Over and over again, just barely touching the vein underneath it. Then, oh so cruel, he abandons his ministrations in favor of flicking and rubbing his swelling nipples. He still hasn’t much milk in his chest, so his pectorals are mostly flat, but his nipples have grown quite a bit. Jungkook sucks at them, flicking the brown buttons with deft fingers and nails, causing the right amount of pain and pleasure that’s sure to send Yoongi into a frenzy.
Yoongi grabs onto Jungkook’s hair and whines out loud.
“What is it?” he murmurs around a bruising nipple.
“Come on” Yoongi’s hips rock up and down in a near-constant motion, seeking friction “Touch me. Come on.”
Jungkook smiles, looking up “But I am touching you.” he splays a warm palm around Yoongi’s belly, grabbing the soft flesh of his hips.
Yoongi whines again, grabbing at Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook slides up, kissing and nicking at Yoongi’s throat.
“You have to be more specific.” he murmurs on the wet skin, sending sparks of pleasure down Yoong’s spine.
“Touch my cock.”
Jungkook lays a single finger on the glistening crown. When he takes it off a strand of precum stretches away.
“Like this?”
Yoongi makes a frustrated noise “No, come on, touch me properly. Suck me off. I wanna come.”
“You want to come?”
Yoongi nods. Every fiber in his body feels close to snapping. His hips can’t stop moving of their own volition. His thighs tremble with the amount of control he needs not to just turn and hump his boyfriend's big thigh and come all over it in five seconds.
Jungkook slides down between his thighs, opening them further with both palms. Then, Yoongi doesn’t really know what happens: Jungkook slides one long finger into his ass, pressing insistently with the pad towards his belly, while simultaneously swallowing his cock down into the furnace of his mouth.
Yoongi comes down his throat so fast his head spins.
While he is still panting and Jungkook is starting to come up from between his legs with a sly grin, Yoongi peaks up from his fringe and says “Cum on me.”
Closing his eyes, Jungkook grabs his thighs and groans. Then he fists his own erection and pumps; when he comes he paints Yoongi’s thighs and spent cock with thick white stripes.
He is still catching his breath when Yoongi tugs him beside him. He gets up to retrieve some wet wipes to clean himself up. Jungkook gets them under the covers, still naked, and hugs him tight.
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful. If only I knew that fucking would calm me down this much I would have been riding your cock all day every day.”
“That’s a nice image.”
“Your dick would fall off though.”
“I’m ready to risk it.”
“You should thank Jin, by the way.”
Jungkook looks down at him, brow furrowed in annoyance “I’m sorry?”
Yoongi looks up at him with feigned innocence “It’s all thanks to him, in the end, don’t you think?”
“I think that if you dare say that again you’re sleeping on the couch, pregnant or not.”
“Okay, okay”
They laugh quietly, and then sleep, in a tangle of arms and legs so tight that it’s impossible to tell them apart.