jungkook's parents find out about his skipping classes.

really, he shouldn't be so shocked.

admittedly, he hadn't been that good at concealing it, didn't really know how. the only reason he made it as far as he did without discovery was dumb luck and his parents being too occupied with work to pay much attention to anything else.

but a call from the school has put an end to all his escapades during class hours and the ever-present twitch in his right hand is twenty times worse than before and tiny doodles within the margins of his school books can only soothe so much.

he's thankful that his parents didn't find out about the tagging. if they had, jungkook wouldn't be alive to tell the tale. the lectures would be unbearable, and the privileges taken away would be the death of him.

his markers are hidden beneath his bed, along with a few scraps of refill paper for scribbling late at night. he feels voiceless not being able to draw, like a fish out of water and it's the worst torture paired with the excessive amount of study being shoved down his throat, jungkook feels like he's suffocating in a pit of boredom and mediocrity.

and because of this suffocation, he's even less receptive to information than before. his korean studies look like they've been written in a foreign language and he can barely input numbers into a calculator without freezing up and evaluating every life decision he's made up until this point. it's like his body is acting out against him, protesting the unfairness of not being able to make art.

it's melodramatic (he knows it's melodramatic) but he feels like he's losing his mind.

during breaks between classes, he heads to the library. he'll find a quiet corner where none of the librarians are prone to go, grab an old book no-ones prone to read and takes to the margins with a biro, doodling in cartoon monsters and other little things that spring to mind. it barely sates anything but it's the only thing currently keeping him sane.

'y'know when i said get a sketch book, i meant an actual sketch book, not some random book with words already written down in it.'

jungkook startles at the voice, and looks up to see a pair of dark eyes staring down at him, sparkling with amusement.

'i bet it's not even yours either.'

'yoongi-ssi?'

it's been three weeks since jungkook last saw yoongi and he really was sure it would be his last time, or at least his last time on school grounds. through the rush of something close to excitement trying to curve his lips upwards—because he does actually like this guy, although he's yet to fully appreciate his snide humour and sarcasm—jungkook feels a twinge of unease. there's just something a little weird about a grown man walking around a school three times only to stumble upon the same person every time.

'that's me,' yoongi says, and his expression pinches into a frown. 'you're fucking hard to track down, you know that? i've been looking everywhere for you.'

jungkook's eyebrows shoot way up, disappear beneath his bangs. so he was actually sought out this time. 'you have?'

yoongi nods. 'i went to the art department and asked after you, but they'd never heard of you before. figured maybe you don't make a big deal of yourself coz you're quiet and shit, so i asked if they had some emo kid with prominent front teeth and piercings. still hadn't heard of you. the fuck is that about?'

resisting the urge to cover his 'prominent front teeth' jungkook shrugs. 'i don't take art. my parents think it's a waste of time.'

'bullshit,' yoongi snaps, tone a little venomous. 'art's fucking important.'

again, jungkook shrugs and the reaction makes yoongi force out a puff of breath, clearly disgruntled. he shifts from foot to foot as jungkook goes back to doodling. he's only got half an hour before he has to get back to class, he can't waste precious drawing time, even if the prospect of talking to someone he can actually say a word to is tempting.

'i wanted to propose something,' yoongi says.

'okay?'

'i wanna commission you to do the cover for my mixtape.' jungkook looks up, pulse throbbing in his ears. he frowns presuming he's heard wrong, but yoongi carries on. 'i've got the majority of it set in concrete, i'll give it to you to listen to and then i want you to make something from there, i don't care what, so long as it doesn't include my face.'

jungkook's tongue feels sluggish when he speaks, his heart jumping in quick excited beats. 'why not your face?'

'i like anonymity,' yoongi says. 'keeps people from invading my space constantly.'

loner, jungkook's brain supplies. he keeps listening.

'i'll pay you of course,' yoongi says. 'and give you credit. i just need something cool done and your style is unique, hasn't been used before.'

there's a ball of warmth spreading through jungkook's belly at the praise and he has to keep himself from smiling all stupid-like. this is a business proposal, after all. he can't seem overly excited.

but reality hits when he mulls it over and any semblance of excitement shatters to the ground in a million pieces.

'i can't,' jungkook mumbles. 'i don't have the time.'

'you have time to doodle all over school property,' yoongi says with a scoff. 'three times i've seen you now and that's what you've been doing.'

jungkook blushes. 'are you encouraging me to cut class, yoongi-ssi?'

'i figure you're gonna do it anyway, might as well be doing something productive with that time.'

'my parents found out the cutting,' jungkook says monotonously. 'so no, i won't be doing it anymore.'

'so that's why you're spending lunch in a library doodling in a book rather than with your friends like a normal kid?'

friends. ha. it stings more than he'd care to admit. jungkook pinches his lips together, presses the biro back to the page a bit harder this time.

'i'm not a kid.'

'yeah you are,' yoongi says and there's something a little softer in his tone. like he picked up on the shift. 'do they know you draw?'

'who?' his non-existent friends? please...

'anyone i guess.'

'my aunt does. but she's the only one,' jungkook shrugs. she's a therapist at the local mental health ward, her job is to be discreet and non-judgemental. she found jungkook sketching when she came over for christmas one year, kept it quiet from his parents at his insistence. jungkook's thankful to have someone on his side, even if they only see each other occasionally.

he sees yoongi fidgeting above him, pale skeletal fingers skittering against his thigh. he looks a little angry, but jungkook doesn't feel like it's aimed at his mumbled responses.

'do you want to do art?'

more than anything. 'yeah.'

'well, alright then,' yoongi says with finality, like he's come to some decision that jungkook doesn't need to know about. he watches the elder pull out his phone and squint down at the lock screen. 'what's your number?'

jungkook's voice comes out strangled. 'my number?'

'phone number, genius,' yoongi shoots him an expectant look. 'come on.'

jungkook reads it out to him, words shaky and stuttered but yoongi doesn't seem to mind. the elder taps the digits into his phone, nods and shoves the device back into his pocket.

'you're leaving?' jungkook asks as yoongi turns on his heels for the library exit. he's frustrated by the tug his heart does, a short-lived pang of disappointment by the loss of company. the elder looks over his shoulder at him, cocking an eyebrow.

'got shit to organise, don't i?' he says and then he grins, lips pulling back to reveal this small gummy smile that jungkook wouldn't expect of someone so snide. 'trust, hyung, yes?'

jungkook nods dazedly, watches yoongi turn around once again and this time disappear behind rows of book cases. jungkook's hand itches. he flips to a new page and begins to scribble out the lines to a full-blown grin, hissing curses to himself when the pen skitters off in another direction, not doing what it's told.

jungkook gets told that he's getting a tutor. he is less than thrilled about this decision, but because he values breathing and living as well, he keeps quiet about it.

'it'll be good for you,' his father tells him, hands tight around the steering wheel as jungkook fidgets in his seat, staring out the window. 'get those grades up.'

it won't be good for him, he knows it won't, the tutor will just be another person in on the joke of his dumbness. he supposes it's better than his parent's last attempt at getting to the bottom of his grades, where they took him to the doctor's and tested him for every learning disability under the sun so they could explain to the rest of his family why his test scores were so damn low.

turns out it was fruitless, he had no disabilities. he was just stupid.

fantastic.

the place is on the outskirts of town, an area jungkook never really goes to, though to be fair, he doesn't go many places at all, preferring to spend most of his time at home.

they have to drive in up a dusty driveway to a large white house situated smack bam in the middle of a large field. in the distance, he sees the outline of trees dribbling along the outskirts, wonders if his tutor will look away long enough for him to get in a rough sketch at some stage.

jungkook's dad parks the car out the front, orders jungkook out, then follows him in, like some military escort. he knows his dad's just following him in to pay the guy or whatever, but the way he pins himself to jungkook's side, like he might make a break for it, convinces him otherwise.

jungkook rings the doorbell and glares daggers into the doormat, trying to keep from pouting. he has his bag of study gear in his backpack, feels a lot heavier in the wake of what is sure to be a disaster. he hears footsteps approaching behind the door, sucks in a breath through his teeth—

—makes the strangest noise he's ever made in his life, when the door opens to a short, pale, bright-eyed min fucking yoongi.

he smiles at them in greeting, welcomes them inside without using a single cuss word to jungkook's surprise. he's dressed in a collared white shirt and jeans—nice jeans, not even a hint of wear and tear and his hair's combed and neat. nothing like the rugged sight, jungkook's use to.

yoongi's saying something to jungkook's father in an assuring voice, no sign of his usual drawl, but jungkook's too busy staring to pay attention, trying really hard not to gape at yoongi as he gushes out all the proper formalities of 'yes, mr. jeon, we'll get so much done, i'm sure he'll be a great learner with the right encouragement, blah blah blah!'

having met yoongi three times before this, jungkook's seen enough to get a small gauge on his personality, meaning jungkook feels a little ill at the performance, because it's sickly, literally sickly and jungkook is so confused.

yoongi catches his eye when jungkook's father turns for a split second and his expression flickers to the more familiar scowl as he reaches over to fucking pinch jungkook's side. after recovering from the shock, he's quick to adopt a more resigned expression but that does nothing to ease his bewilderment.

'i'll leave you to it,' jungkook's father says and claps him on the shoulder. jungkook swallows a wince and watches his father disappear out the door. his shoulders are tense as his eyes flick over to yoongi, a tad standoffish. none of this makes any sense.

'what's going on?'

'watch it!' yoongi hisses behind gritted teeth. he pushes past jungkook up to the peephole in the door and peers out. 'ha. there we go. he's gone. sucker.'

he looks immensely pleased with himself as he turns back to jungkook grinning. there's this manic sparkle in his eye of triumph that feels oddly contagious, but jungkook doesn't know what they're triumphant about.

'you're a tutor?' jungkook asks.

'fuck no,' yoongi scoffs. 'but i am a genius.'

'so you planned this?'

'of course,' yoongi says with a snort. 'i looked up the name jeon in the district phonebook and sent out flyers for cheap tutoring lessons to all the addresses. your parents called within a few days.' he pauses, for effect it seems, and raises his eyebrows. 'this is where you tell me i'm the smartest person alive.'

'i still don't understand.' he blushes when yoongi heaves a sigh.

'i'll fucking spell it out to you then: your parents want you to study, you want to do art, you can do your fucking art here and they'll be none the wiser.' his once confident stance has slumped a little, jungkook notices, not unsure exactly, but pushing it. 'i've got a room set up for you upstairs. you have to come here after school at least three times a week, weekends too if you want. tell your parents it's extra tutoring or just a study group with friends, whatever. the money they give me will go towards art supplies. you study more and go to your classes, all of them. and if your grades start slipping, i will actually start tutoring you and it won't be fun for either of our dumb asses.'

jungkook narrows his eyes. 'what's in it for you?'

'sexual favours,' yoongi dead-pans. he grins when jungkook stiffens. 'kidding. nothing. you tickle me, i'll get satisfaction in you doing well.' jungkook shifts, relaxing slightly, though the teasing makes him a little uncomfortable. yoongi's a relative stranger, how does he know what's a joke or not?

'you barely know me.'

'you're a talented kid who needs direction that i can provide.' his expression clouds suddenly. 'but if you act like a fucking asshole, i'll kick you out, simple as that.'

'so i'm your charity case?' jungkook asks slowly.

yoongi rolls his eyes. 'if that's what you wanna call it, jungkook, you go right ahead. now, ground rules: do not come into my studio when i'm working or i will kill you. do not go into my bedroom or i will kill you, get paint or anything artsy on my shit and i will kill you. and jungkook, if you bring fucking glitter into my house, i'll—'

'kill me?' jungkook interrupts, voice a tad strained. though his heart is beating quick in his chest not out of panic but excitement. aside from the teasing digs that yoongi appears to have a liking for, the idea of this is incredible. he'll have a place to do artwork, won't have to sneak in sketches in the wee hours of the night like drawing is some sin to be ashamed of. yoongi—a guy not much more than a stranger to him— is offering him everything he could have ever wanted for nothing. he's giddier than he's ever been in his entire life.

'smart kookie,' yoongi congratulates, grin wide and shark-like. 'sessions are two hours, alright? you still up for doing that commission? i'll still pay you. this isn't bribery.'

'i'll do it,' jungkook says eagerly. 'i wanted—want to do it, it's awesome, i just... thank you.'

it doesn't sound like much, not enough for the gratitude and fondness blooming in his chest by a long shot. but then again yoongi's answering shrug isn't all that much either.

'cool,' he says. 'let me get the music for you.'