Jungkook drops his head, and Yoongi wonders why, wishes he would glance up again so that Yoongi could look at him some more. How silly, he thinks, how selfish. Like he doesn't see Jungkook all the time. Like they haven't been this close before so many times. It's different, though, like this. Everything is warm and blurred at the edges, and for once, Yoongi isn't holding himself back quite as much. He's still trying, still restraining himself from doing anything but staring, but it's nice not to hurry to curb the thoughts, too. So often he has to qualify his thoughts even to himself, and it's exhausting, he realizes now. He's so tired of not being able to look at Jungkook and simply think how beautiful he is without following it with a warning to himself.

Because he is. He's beautiful. Entrancing, really, and when he looks up again and takes his hand, Yoongi's heart stutters in his chest. He wants to touch his cheek, wants to kiss him and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks, aches with these desires, but even now, he knows he can't. It's one thing to like distant idols, safe and far away; feeling this way for someone he knows is something else. He knows his friends well enough to be certain they won't push him away if he likes boys, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't be uncomfortable if he showed it more or if they thought he liked one of them. He's too happy just being close like this, just knowing they have tomorrow. It isn't worth the risk of losing the bond they share for some stupid whim.

Yoongi squeezes back, smiles too fondly in spite of himself. "I'm not a very good dancer," he says, though it's not a no. At least if they dance, it'll just be silly and playful. It's not like they'll end up in each other's arms, pressed close together. It might be safer than sitting here is. "Should we?"