There's a split second where Yoongi's body nearly pitches forward, and it'd be so simple for Jungkook to meet him halfway — requiring no more than a tilt of his head. Maybe he'd get away with it, too. Write it off as tipsy stumbling, or even a drunken whim. He's young enough that he might get away with that, with a cute little peck, only slightly apart from where it's normally directed on the curve of his hyung's cheek.

But that's not the kind of kiss Jungkook wants. His stomach lurches with how easily the images conjure now, with the two of them standing so close to one another — how all he'd have to do is pivot them back towards the wall, guiding with the hands currently gripped around Yoongi's waist. How he could so easily slide one up along the folds of Yoongi's shirt, up to cup the curve of Yoongi's cheek, brush his thumb against the flush blooming there.

Jungkook's fingers twitch at the thought, a couple slipping under the hem of Yoongi's shirt, pausing stock still against the warmth of his skin.

He's so foolish, isn't he? Even as Yoongi's putting him in his place, no older, no less cute. Just an adorable little brother.

"I'll always be cute, huh?" he asks, tilting his chin down a touch, strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.