Fake || a kth and jjk ff

|| twenty-eight ||

"Oh, Jungkook," Hoseok gushed. "You're so handsome."

Jungkook stared at his reflection. Hoseok had helped with his makeup and the hairdresser had just finished his hair. It wasn't exactly what his mother had wanted, but Hoseok had assured him the more natural styling was better.

"I'm not even wearing my tux yet."

"What if your mom doesn't get here in time?"

Jungkook chuckled, but his stomach twisted with nerves. "She'll be here. Dad says she's raising holy hell, insisting it shouldn't take so long to fix a dislocated shoulder and a scratched cornea."

It had been hard to talk to his father on the phone without confronting him, but he'd forced himself to set his anger aside. Jungkook knew without a doubt his father loved his mother—his voice practically broadcast it as he relayed Ae-ri's current status—and was mature enough to realize things weren't always black and white. He only had to look at his own mess to see that. Still, a new heaviness had settled over his heart. His father wasn't the perfect man he'd always believed him to be.

"Do you think she'll really wear an eyepatch?" Hoseok asked.

"Maybe she's wishing she'd picked a pirate wedding theme instead."

Hobi laughed. "If anyone can pull off pirate chic, your mother can."

"I know." Jungkook cast a glance at the door, feeling heavy-hearted. "I don't think Namjoon-hyung's coming."

Hoseok put his hands on Jungkook's upper arms. "Namjoon will show up."

"It's almost time to get dressed." Jungkook's nerves were getting the best of him. "Hyung hates me. I haven't answered any of his calls today and I wouldn't listen to him last night. He's not coming."

Hobi gave the younger a side hug. "He doesn't hate you. Give him a few minutes. He'll be here."

They were silent for a few moments, and Jungkook started to pace. Finally, he stopped and turned to Hoseok. "Aren't you wondering why Tae and I are going through with this wedding?"

"No."

"Really?"

Hobi smiled. "No, this feels right. You feel it too, or you wouldn't be here right now. You and Taehyung are perfect for each other."

"But Namjoon would say—" Jungkook lowered his voice to a growl, "—'then go on a date, Jungkook. Don't do something rash, like marrying someone you barely know.'"

The door swung open. "I don't sound anything like that," Namjoon said, marching through the doorway with a brisk stride, a large bag slung over his shoulder. "My voice isn't that deep. Although the rest is reasonably accurate."

"Hyung." Jungkook clutched his hands in front of him, feeling like he was about to puke.

"You've been ignoring my calls, texts, emails, voice mails, and carrier pigeons, Kookie."

Namjoon not only showed up but used his nickname. Jungkook grinned. "I never got the carrier pigeons."

"Ah-ha!" Namjoon pointed at him. "You just admitted that you received and ignored the other three."

"You're playing the role of an attorney, hyung. I need you here as my friend."

"Well, you're going to have to tolerate the attorney for a little while longer, because there's something I need to talk to you about. If you feel like going through with this preposterous endeavor once I've said my piece, I will be here for you one hundred percent."

Tears stung Jungkook's eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." He hung the garment bag on the rack that held Jungkook's wedding tux, spread out in all its bedazzled glory. Namjoon stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of it, his mouth gaping. He pointed to the tux, then Jungkook, then back at the tux. "Really?"