Maybe this is risky, Jungkook realizes in retrospect, glancing down to meet Yoongi's gaze. He's tempted to lift his free hand, to skirt a finger across Yoongi's forehead, to push away errant locks of hair and trace along the curve of his cheekbone. From where Yoongi's resting, Jungkook swears that his hyung must be able to hear the racing of his heart, beating almost out of his chest. Every small shift of his body presses him up against the planes of Yoongi's body, long and slender and so close. He sighs, aches for more contact.

Can't risk it. Not like that.

Instead, he lifts his free arm at last, draping it over Yoongi's back to hold him anchored there. It'd be nice to drift away to sleep like this, the both of them tangled up in each other, the weight of Yoongi's body holding loneliness at bay. He hates how right it feels. But maybe if sleep takes him, then Jungkook won't have to notice when this finally comes to an end.

"It's a date, then," he murmurs. "Drinks and dancing."