Okay, so maybe he's got a bit obsessed with Min Yoongi.

There are some photos of him on Hoseok's Facebook page, and in most of them he's scowling, in some of them sleeping, and in precisely one he has a giant pair of headphones slung over his neck and Hoseok's arm around him while he grins at the camera, all his gums showing. There are no videos of him there, or on his own Facebook page, which is blank except for the joined on so and so, born on so and so information.

But if there's one thing Jungkook is good at, it's stalking people over the internet, so an adequate amount of digging lets him find what he's looking for.

Videos of his performances are all uniformly of bad quality, no two videos uploaded by the same person. It's like they recorded him once and decided never again. They've all been taken by people in the audience, so they're shaky, and Yoongi's face is hidden by distance and other spectators, but Jungkook can make out his voice just fine.

The comment thread is awkward and tense at best. He has talent, some people say. Ouch, more people say. And one comment that Jungkook can't get out of his head: This makes me want to kill myself.

There are barely any likes at all.

The thing is, Yoongi's voice is perfect. His rap is cutting edge. But his blasted words, and his haunting beats, that sound like the edge of sanity itself...

It sort of hurts.

And yet Jungkook can't stop digging, can't stop listening, and the horror that is Yoongi's music keeps spiraling in his brain. A part of him wants to know what it must be like in Yoongi's head, what it must be like to think about these things, to know them as facts. Jungkook should stop this, really - he already knows how pathetic his life is and doesn't need this music to tell him that, but it's hard to stop, the way it's hard to stop picking at a scab even when you know it'll only make it worse.

"Jungkook?" Jimin's voice calls. He looks up from his laptop, to where his senior is poking his head through the door. His hair is combed neatly, and he's in decent clothes.

Jungkook hits pause on his video. "Hyung," he says. "Are you going out?"

Jimin nods. "Bowling alley, not far off campus," he says. "With some of Taehyung's science nerd friends. Call if you need us, okay?"

Jungkook smiles and gives him a thumbs up. Jimin shuts the door softly.

Jungkook sighs.

It isn't like they've never left him alone before. Jimin and Taehyung are both well liked all around, and while neither of them are the sort to be close to very many people, they're still extremely fond of the outdoors. Jungkook isn't - he finds the corridors unsettling enough. So there have always been occasions when they leave him behind, have some fun, and Jungkook has never felt bad about it because they have to leave him behind sometime.

But recently - recently they're almost never around, and Jungkook is scared it has something to do with Hoseok. Something about how he has another friend, and someone to go to if he feels alone.

He's scared that they only stick around for his sake, and that now that he has an alternative they're slipping away. That he's maybe held them back from doing things they wanted to do for so long.

Because that would really, really suck.

He stares at Yoongi's barely visible, pixelated face, and presses play again. He does this for hours, his assignment open on another tab that he's guiltily ignoring, until he's hunted down every video of his on the internet. He ignores any thought of Jimin and Taehyung by wondering what the heck went wrong in Min Yoongi's life, or if he was just born angry at the universe for no good reason.

He's a music major, Jungkook remembers. He sort of wants to know what his professors say about his work.

'Doesn't it bother him?' he had asked Hoseok, the day after his birthday.

'Doesn't what bother whom,' Hoseok had asked patiently.

'Min Yoongi. Doesn't the reception his music gets bother him?'

'Nope. He thinks of a traumatised audience as a job well done.'

There are ninety seven steps. For five floors. Ninety seven is not divisible by five and never will be.

The problem is that the steps are all nonidentical, even successive ones. It's like the builders were asking for trouble. Were asking for their students to fall to their imminent deaths because trying to educate them wasn't already cruel enough.

Jungkook is thinking about this because he is, at present, walking up the stairs, and there is someone above him falling to their imminent death.

He grabs them in record time and holds until they balance themselves. Then he lets go and pulls his beanie lower over his face, moving aside to give them space. "Are you okay?" he asks.

The guy nods, still in a bit of shock. "Thanks," he says, turning to face Jungkook. "You saved..." he trails off. "I know you," he says.

The guy is a bit taller than him, broad shouldered, with brown hair parted neatly. He looks at least two years older than Jungkook, but in college one can never be sure. He's had people he considered thirty year old professors introduce themselves as his classmates.

But he does look familiar. Jungkook doesn't forget faces.

"I definitely know you," the boy continues, his face scrunching up in thought. "Why do I know you..."

They wait like that for a while.

"Hoseok-hyung's friend," Jungkook realizes at last. He'd seen him at the party, hanging behind Hoseok and making terrible jokes that made everyone want to bury themselves. (Most everyone. Jungkook had found them sort of funny.)

"Ah!" the guy says, eyes widening in recognition. "You're the first year who gave him a present."

"Uh...yes."

"Jungkook, right? I'm Kim Seokjin. Hoseok tells me about you every day." He holds his hand out.

Jungkook takes it tentatively. Nice to meet you, he should say. Or how do you do. But he's still stuck on Hoseok tells me about you and feeling good and awkward about it, and what he asks instead is "You live here?"

Seokjin doesn't find it rude. "No," he says. "Just visiting a friend."

"Oh," Jungkook says. There's nothing left to say, but Seokjin is still looking at him like he expects a decent conversation. "I should get going, then," Jungkook says, "Nice meeting you, Seokjin-ssi." He starts down the stairs, tugging at his beanie.

"Jungkook-ah," Seokjin calls after him, amused. "You were going up the stairs."

Jungkook freezes, one foot in the air, and Seokjin laughs behind him. Whether he knows he was trying to escape or is just writing him off as absent minded, Jungkook has no clue.

It's raining, pouring in buckets, and Jungkook doesn't have a freaking umbrella.

His clothes are completely soaked through, from his jacket down to his t-shirt. His sneakers are starting to weigh him down - they won't dry before his class tomorrow. He does have an extra pair, but he doesn't like that pair.

The cold has numbed him, so wet is all he feels.

It's hard to see as well. Jungkook can't raise his head enough to look right in front of him because the rain falls too hard. He can't do much more than put one foot ahead of the other for now and pray that he's still going in the right direction. A flash of lightning strikes, giving him a sudden, clear view of the empty pavement, and thunder rolls in the distance.

Maybe he should have called someone (read: Taehyung) but his phone is dead. Dead and now possibly deader, if Jungkook's lame attempt at wrapping it up to save it from the rain hasn't worked. Phone booths are still open, and he's passed a couple, but...he sort of doesn't want to call Taehyung. He's sure he's out somewhere, and he knows for a fact that his friend will do something crazy like drop everything and rush back home just to pick Jungkook up, which is all very unnecessary drama for walking home in the rain...

...is what Jungkook tells himself, but he can't shake off how alone he feels. The sound of his shoes scuffling against the pavement is the only addition to the thud of rain around him.

It's an ideal bad end to an already bad day.

He's spent seven hours in a lab that should have taken three, set the wrong voltage rating on a battery and burned up a couple of components. He'll have to pay for it, of course. At the rate he's been going at he's going to end up paying more for damage of equipment than he will for his entire college tuition.

It isn't his fault that his hands shake. They shake, he drops things. He can't help it.

One foot after the other. One foot after the other.

And then he stops. He raises a hand, shielding his eyes as he looks up into the sky. Up into the darkness, completely blackened, rain pouring onto his face seemingly from no where.

He's so alone.

He doesn't even think he's shivering. His long walk in the rain has killed his perception. He doesn't try to flex his fingers because he doesn't think he can, and is too scared to check.

He makes a half-hearted wipe at his face that does him no good - his hands are as wet as the rest of him, and starts, one foot after the other, before slowing to a stop again in less than a minute. The place is so empty. There's no one there, he can't feel himself, and nothing even feels real. He looks up again, to see if some proof of life has returned to the sky, but all that remains is nothingness.

He's always been alone. It isn't new. But the rain is hammering it into him, one nasty truth after the other, almost like Min Yoongi's music - you're alone, you're afraid, the world is empty and lost.

He wipes at his face again, and this time it's less because of the rain. He doesn't know how long he stands there, staring into the blackness, not a single thought in his head besides how tired he is.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

The words don't register at first, not until his vision catches up with it. There's someone rushing towards him, a mini flashlight in his hands. An umbrella over his head.

An umbrella. Jungkook almost cries.

The person comes to a stop in front of him, holding the umbrella over his head. He's scolding him or something - Jungkook can't make it out at first, because he's too busy being overwhelmed by gratitude. He reaches for the umbrella, his fingers taking too long to bend around the handle, stiff and numb from the cold.

"Thank you," he says, cracked and shaky.

"The hell is your problem," the voice snaps.

It's Min Yoongi himself. He's wearing sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt, hair in every direction, like he's just run out of bed and onto the streets, which is probably how he always looks. He opens up another umbrella - black, like the one Jungkook is holding - and steps out under it.

He looks more than pissed.

"Thanks," Jungkook says again.

Yoongi waves a hand at him to follow. "Let's get inside."

It turns out they're not far from the dorms at all. The lights inside are dim, and it's no less cold. Jungkook ends up leaving a huge trail of water up the stairs, and he can only hope it doesn't lead to someone's death. Maybe he'll put up a sign later, when he's warm and can feel his limbs.

"Going out in this season without an umbrella is one level of stupidity," Yoongi says darkly, almost to himself. He's a few steps ahead of Jungkook, umbrella folded and gripped tightly. "Freaking standing in the middle of a storm for no good reason is quite another."

"I forgot I was there," Jungkook apologises. He'd sort of zoned out.

"Yeah, like that makes it better."

They reach their floor. Yoongi's door is already unlocked. Jungkook is a bit touched that he'd come out to help him, and also a bit guilty that he'd made him. Yoongi opens the umbrella again and props it near the door to dry. Jungkook does the same.

"Where are your friends?" Yoongi asks.

"I don't know," Jungkook says honestly. "Out?"

"Explains a lot," Yoongi mutters, still dark and to himself. "Did you eat yet?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

Yoongi waves a hand at him in a vague be gone sort of gesture. "Go to your room, get yourself dry. Then get back here and I'll give you something to eat."

This is getting awkward. Jungkook waves his arms in refusal. "There's no need. I can heat something up, it's fine, I do it every day."

Yoongi levels a look at him. It isn't condescending, exactly, it's mostly just done. "Kid," he says, "Do you know how long you stood out there in the street?"

"...five minutes?"

"Half an hour. Half an hour that you weren't even aware of. Now hurry up and dry yourself off."

He makes another shooing motion with his hands before going into his room and shutting the door behind him. Jungkook stares after him, dripping onto the floor.

Half an hour.

Getting dry is easy, getting warm is not. He desperately wants a hot shower, but Yoongi had said get dry and get back here and Jungkook doesn't want to inconvenience him more than he already has. So he towels his hair dry, pulls on some clean clothes, and settles for tugging the hood of his sweater over his head even though he's indoors.

He considers just not going - he can totally feed himself, he's found a cup of noodles on his desk - but that would be rude, so he decides to go over, tell Yoongi that he's fine, thanks for everything, live a long happy life, and come right back.

He stands at Yoongi's door, hand raised to knock, and doesn't.

"You know," Yoongi's muffled voice calls from inside. "I can see your shadow under the door."

Oh.

"Door's open. Come in."

He shakes a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves, before pushing the door open.

Yoongi's room looks just like he imagined it to be. It's messy and dark, sparsely furnished, bed almost untouched. He's hunched at his desk in front of a monitor with audio tracks running across, a large pair of headphones slung around his neck.

He doesn't turn to face Jungkook, eyes glued to the screen. Instead he points to a small table near the wall, where there's a plate of steaming food next to an induction stove. All of Jungkook's arguments do a flying leap out the window when the smell reaches him.

It smells like...good food.

"Did you cook this?" he asks, because this is not a life skill he expects any college student to have.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Friend of mine. I just heated it up." He's already tugging the headphones back over his ears. "Help yourself. And if you aren't comfortable here, feel free to take it to your room."

Jungkook picks the plate up gently, says his thanks (though Yoongi doesn't hear over whatever he's blasting into his ears) and quietly steps outside, shutting the door softly behind him.

The plate is so warm. He stands there, just holding it, until he remembers that Yoongi can see him through the door.

Jungkook is starting to realize that maybe, maaaybe, there's something the slightest bit wrong with him. It's been three days since Min Yoongi gave him an umbrella and an impromptu dinner, and he still hasn't returned the plate because he doesn't know how. Or when. Or if the elder will eat him alive.

The last option is unlikely. Probably.

It would be easier if Yoongi was a normal human being who actually used his door for reasons besides saving people from rainstorms, but he isn't, and Jungkook is scared to knock. He considered leaving the plate outside his door, but that's just asking for the barbarians on their floor to break/trample/steal it, so that's out.

He'll return it today, for sure. And he'll have to do something in return - you don't simply get a free epic meal and then pretend you were entitled to it.

But what would Yoongi want? Food, cookies, poison?

Maybe he could cook something with Taehyung. Maybe they wouldn't burn the dorms down.

...unlikely.

Cookies it is, then.

At one AM, when he's sure Yoongi will be awake, he knocks on the door, plate, spoon, and pack of cookies in a small paper cover.

The door opens immediately, and Yoongi bursts out with a glass bottle held up ready to strike, wild and livid. Jungkook jumps back and crashes into the wall, then panics because which way to run, which way to run?

"Oh," Yoongi says, blinking. He lowers the bottle awkwardly. "It's you. I thought it was someone asking for death."

Jungkook stays well out of reach. He knew Yoongi was homicidal, he knew it. "Came to return your plate," he says, holding out the bag as proof.

Yoongi scratches his neck sheepishly, reaching out for the bag. "Sorry. Some drunk kids have been knocking on my door all day. Thought it was them."

"No problem," Jungkook says. He has a small idea of who those drunk kids might have been and thinks he's just saved Jimin's lifespan from being fatally shortened. "I'll...see you."

"I'll try not to kill you next time," Yoongi says sincerely, but the corner of his mouth is twitching upwards. Jungkook nods and makes his escape.

The next morning, when he wakes up, there's a note stuffed under his door.

Your taste in cookies sucks, the note says. And I don't like debts.

Under it is a pack of pineapple flavoured chewing gum, and Jungkook doesn't think tastes can suck worse than that.

It's the third time Jungkook has put his empty cup to his mouth and found it, surprise, empty. Is he starting to hallucinate? He can swear it's full, why does it look full, why can't it stop hurting his feelings already.

Hoseok is wide awake in his chair at the cash register. Jungkook wonders if he ever sleeps or if he's just some godly being who floats around and lives on the energy of the world.

It's past midnight, he has a five page essay due in six hours, and he's given up his ice cream for coffee.

"I don't even like coffee," he says to his cup, as if that'll make it spontaneously generate some more.

"Good for you," Hoseok says. It's a testament to their friendship that he isn't weirded out at all by the fact that Jungkook is sitting half under the check out counter, half asleep, typing long streams of gibberish into his laptop and hoping it means something in a different language.

Eventually he gives up and just holds down the 'a' key so the long stream of aaaaaa makes it look like his laptop is screaming in pain.

"I worry for you science kids sometimes," Hoseok says seriously, watching his screen.

"Engineering," Jungkook corrects automatically.

"I worry for you kids," Hoseok amends.

Jungkook picks his cup up and puts it to his lips. Empty again. He gives it a look of such disbelief that Hoseok quietly reaches into the cooler and hands him another one.

"Yoongi-ssi is weird," Jungkook tells him in reply.

"He is," Hoseok agrees. "Now finish your essay."

Jungkook holds down the 'b' key instead.

"You know," Hoseok says, "I always pegged you as the sincere type."

"I am sincere," Jungkook tells him. "Wait until I've had six tonnes of coffee and there's only an hour left for me to finish this. I'll be the most sincere person on the planet."

"That's the precise opposite of sincerity, Jungkook-ah."

Jungkook shrugs and switches to 'c'.

"What do you do with all your spare time, then?" Hoseok asks, because it's already been established that he has no friends.

Jungkook thinks about it. "...homework, mostly," he admits. Sheesh, he is the sincere type. "And I paint sometimes."

"Nice! Is that what you wanted to major in? Art?"

Jungkook shrugs. "I wanted music, actually. But that was impossible, so...art."

"Impossible?"

Jungkook gestures vaguely at himself. "Stage fright." Forget stage fright, he has there's-a-person-within-five-feet-of-me fright.

Hoseok frowns at him, the way Jimin had when he'd first told him about this. 'So you just gave up?' his senior had demanded, looking incredulous, and Jungkook had wanted to snap at him, tell him it's not so easy, not everyone can be like you, but that was back in the early stages of their friendship so he'd kept his mouth shut and shrugged.

"So you sing?" Hoseok asks, bypassing the incredulousness entirely.

"Sort of?" Why is he like this. "Doesn't matter." He stares at his laptop screen, realizing it's up to him to scroll back to the top and get rid of all the gibberish he's typed up and rescue the part that makes sense. Hoseok doesn't say anything.

"Yoongi-ssi is weird," Jungkook starts again, in a lame attempt to change the topic. "He tried to kill me and then left chewing gum under my door."

"That's..." Hoseok considers it. "Admittedly not the strangest thing he's done."

"Though nearly killing me was an accident. He was aiming for Jimin-hyung."

"Where is Jimin, anyway?" Hoseok asks. "I haven't seen him all week."

"Out. He doesn't seem bad, though."

"Jimin?"

"Yoongi-ssi. He gave me food and an umbrella."

"He isn't bad," Hoseok agrees. "Just...difficult. Sort of like you."

Jungkook gives him a betrayed look.

"You don't have time for Yoongi analysis," Hoseok tells him. "Finish your essay and I'll give you ice cream."

"I'll be dead by then," Jungkook says.

"You talk a lot more when you're sleepy."

"Not sleepy," Jungkook insists, and takes a sip of coffee just in case.

But he is sleepy, and possibly a little mental, because when he goes home that night (morning?) essay complete and submitted, he stops at Yoongi's door and shoves a box of Tic Tac under his door.

The next day, when he returns to the dorms, there's a packet of shampoo in his doorway with a note that says

price tag.

Jungkook checks the number printed on the back, and sure enough, the packet costs just as much as a box of Tic Tac.