When he was drinking with Jimin earlier, Yoongi muses, they shared the bottle, passing the whiskey back and forth without a thought for it. Now he lets the glass rest against his lips a moment too long before he sips, and somewhere deep in the back of his head, deep in the thrumming of his heart, he knows this is trouble.

Maybe if he drinks enough, he can forget that by tomorrow.

He runs his hand through Jungkook's hair, at once grateful for the distraction the question provides and perplexed by it. "No," he says, shaking his head before he thinks better of the movement. "Not wrong. I'm glad you're here." Too true, a voice warns, but it would be worse to backtrack or make something of it. Besides, it is true, and he doesn't want to lie to Jungkook any more than he needs to. "I just don't want you to get sick. We have plans tomorrow, remember."

Yoongi couldn't forget. He's been looking forward to it all week, a reprieve from the mess of his mind and his stacks of textbooks. It would be a shame if one or both of them showed up hungover.

Again and again, he runs his fingers through soft hair, slow and steady, trying to ignore his growing awareness of Jungkook's head on his thigh. It's good, he tells himself, better to have Jungkook's head there than anywhere close to his own, where he might more easily slip up, even here.