There are little things Yoongi has tucked away in his memory, that he pulls out to revisit from time to time, though he's only half-conscious of having done so. He tries not to turn to them too often. There's nothing useful or helpful in thinking of them, remembering how happy Jungkook looked when he got a particularly tricky piece right, how he said Yoongi was his favorite. This is something else, something that he's going to turn over again and again in his head, he knows. He's living in the middle of a memory already, the kind that crops up at the most inconvenient moments, that surfaces when he's supposed to be studying. He'll sit over his textbooks and think of this, how easily he could have turned this moment into more. How good it feels to think Jungkook finds him attractive, to have his hands on his body like this.

It's just a compliment, a kind remark, some kind of false modesty, but it's utterly heady coupled with the hands at his waist. Yoongi sways a little, unsteady, and lets out a soft, disbelieving sound. "You only say that because I'm your favorite," he murmurs, trying to tease, fairly certain he's falling short. Mostly he just likes the way it sounds, selfishly wants to hear it again, or coax another compliment from Jungkook. Even if it's nothing, innocent, purely platonic, it's something to hold on to. This whole night, this absurd dance, is something he'll be thinking of for a long time, in ways he probably shouldn't.