The words should relax him, relieve him of the fear that he might have made an error in coming, that he might have ruined the version of Jungkook that his hyung loves so well. Instead, Jungkook feels his heart catching on those words — Yoongi's glad he's here — and he sits up a little, palm sinking into the seat of the couch. He keeps the movement slow, not only for the dizzying rush of blood through his head, but to keep Yoongi's fingers threaded through his hair for as long as he can.

"I didn't forget, hyung," he assures in a rush of breath. "That's why I almost didn't come, I didn't want to ruin our plans. We can still go, right? I've been looking forward to it all week."

The closeness registers a second later, awareness crashing over Jungkook and holding him stock still. There's a faint flush on Yoongi's cheeks, the pink creating a nice contrast with his pale complexion. His lips are still damp, presumably from the drink, and Jungkook can't fight the sudden thought — how it'd be nice to see how soft they are.

Shit. Is he staring too much? Jungkook pulls his gaze up, resting it on dark eyes and dark lashes.

"We'll still go, right?"