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Chapter Text

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Trust me, Tae.” The smile on Hoseok’s face is tight, equal parts pity and empathy. “It’s the best we can do.”

Taehyung shakes his head, the hood of his fluffy sweater that had been hiding the ridiculous bedhead he’d woken up with a mere hour ago slipping off. “You’re not going to marry me off like some nineteenth century monarch.”

“We’re not marrying you off.” Jimin looks up from where he’d been furiously typing on his phone. “We’re taking damage control, because literally the whole world saw your naked ass.”

Quickly, Taehyung casts his eyes downward. Jimin’s right, of course, but it still feels weird. He’s pretty sure the mortified blush is nothing but the permanent colour of his cheeks at this point, has been there ever since his management called him before dawn two days ago, five different voices talking a mile a minute about a private recording of Taehyung surfacing in a dark, dusty corner of the internet and spreading like wildfire.

It’s a stupid home video. Filmed on a messily propped up phone, it shows nothing but a queen-sized bed against the backdrop of the city that never sleeps. The late afternoon sun reflecting off the surrounding highrises in sharp blinks of light filtering through the half-drawn curtains renders the scene soft and warm. And then there is a man coming into frame, long, lithe legs first, followed by a lean waist and sharp collarbones. A pouting mouth.

There’s no arguing that it is Taehyung. It’s him with his wide puppy eyes blinking curiously but not shyly at the camera as slender fingers push freshly permed hair out of his eyes. It’s him, who takes the hand of another man and lets himself be pulled into bed. It’s him, who is on display at all times, the other man reduced to faceless words and strong hands in all the right places. It’s him, who’s the destined star of the show.

The day the video appeared marks the first time Taehyung’s name has been in the Twitter trends. Kim Taehyung (Model) trending nationally. People are talking about him, saying all kinds of things, too much to keep track of, and they share the video.

On the more popular social media platforms, the version shared is short. It cuts off soon after the couple has fallen into the sheets, doesn’t even show Taehyung’s last yearning look at the camera, eyes intense and heavy, before his face is forced around by a hand cupping his jaw. It doesn’t show the wandering hands, doesn’t show naked feet kicking the covers out of the way. It keeps quiet of the silky underwear slipping off the sheets, almost unnoticed, like a private laughter shared by lovers during conversation. Hides the spread of Taehyung’s legs, the arch of his back, the hands splayed behind him on the other man’s thighs as he circles his hips.

But the full video is out there, too, easily found after just a little bit of digging. And it tells of everything, from sunset well into the night.

Of course, Taehyung’s team has been trying to erase every trace of the tape, but ‘Kim Taehyung’s Ride To Fame’ keeps popping up time and time again, and the digits of the number indicating the views steadily climbing higher makes his stomach churn and skin crawl.

“Hey.” There’s a hand on his shoulder. Jimin’s scooted around the office table on his chair, blinking at Taehyung in sympathy. “I know this sucks, but Hobi’s right. It’s our best shot.”

Hanging his head back, Taehyung groans. “Not him.”

“Look.” It’s that voice. Hoseok is perfect for this job, with his punctuality and his digital and physical planners and his colour-coordinated brain that somehow allows him to know exactly where every member of their agency has to be at any given time. “It’s the perfect opportunity. They want the press to stop speculating about his divorce, and we want them to stop talking about your sex tape. So–”

“So instead you want them to bring stories about the football player dating the model,” Taehyung interrupts him, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Because that’s–”

“What the people want to see,” Hoseok nods, snapping his fingers at him. “Exactly.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at him. “I was gonna say it’s a dumb stereotype.”

“People love dumb stereotypes,” Hoseok shrugs. “And I love them if they get the whole world to stop talking about my client’s and, more importantly, my friend’s ass.”

With a defeated sigh, Taehyung shuts his eyes. 

He’s sure, somehow, he’d be able to live with the whole world replaying that video for all eternity, but this isn’t just about him. His face is the one of an agency, a determined team of young people behind it, and that’s the truly horrifying thing, that they’ve all seen it, mumbling “oh, this is bad, this is really bad” all throughout it. If he’s known as the amateur model who’s biggest gig has been a Dior perfume ad and who records sex tapes in his unemployed free time, then that’s all his company will be known for, too.

He can’t do this to them.

“They should be here in about half an hour.” Hoseok claps the palm of his hand against his thigh in finality. “We’ll discuss the details then. I don’t want anyone to be in the dark about anything here.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Taehyung perks up in a weak attempt at protest.

Jimin slides an arm around his shoulders, leaning into him sympathetically. “This isn’t really a matter of yes or no, babe, I’m sorry,” he says. “Come on. Let’s get breakfast?”

A part of Taehyung wants to stomp its foot down and throw a petty tantrum right then and there. But he can’t think of another solution to the problem, even though he’s convinced throwing himself head first into a PR stunt with some mediocre football player isn’t going to play out in his favour either. Plus, these aren’t just his colleagues or the people responsible for him, they’re also his friends, and Taehyung knows they only have his best interest in mind.

“Fine.”

***

The room around them has grown, but the number of people is the same. It’s a gloomy day in the middle of June, one of those that make you doubt if the planet really is facing its imminent, burning end. 

The pitter-patter of scattered raindrops hitting the floor to ceiling windows that take up an entire wall of the office mingles with the scraping of Taehyung’s wooden spoon over the bottom of his Acai bowl. He’s definitely entered the stage of spiteful defiance, noting with something like bitter satisfaction the way Hoseok’s jaw ticks at the noise.

Jimin’s bagel sits on the wide table in front of them, still untouched, and Taehyung is just considering stealing it and downing it in one bite when a line of four men appears on the other side of the glass wall separating the office from the hallway. The two up front are dressed in impeccable dark suits complete with crisp white shirts and neatly parted hair.

Taehyung doesn’t get to throw more than a quick glance at the two figures trailing behind before he’s yanked up from his seat, the backs of his knees catapulting his chair back with a loud screech. “Ow, Jimin,” he murmurs under his breath, rubbing his forearm where Jimin had dug his fingers in.

There’s a lot of hand shaking and exchanges of names and formal greetings. The two men in suits turn out to be “Min Yoongi, management,” and “Kim Namjoon, coach.” 

Quickly bowing his head to them, Taehyung wishes he’d put a little more thought and effort into his own choice of clothing this morning. He doesn’t have a shoot today – hasn’t had one in a while, in fact – and he looks like it, too.

The other man, tall and lean and with a face that could be associated with their agency, introduces himself with a smile so charming it makes up for the grey day outside. “Seokjin,” he says, making a quick round from Hoseok over Taehyung to Jimin, squeezing their hands, “Lawyer, personal manager, moral support, and brother of that little plague.” He says the last part with a backward nod of his head toward the last member of their group.

The guy is dressed in all black, head to toe. Cargo pants with more pockets and zippers than anyone could ever possibly need. A t-shirt with a brand name stamped in bold letters across the chest. A loose-fitting denim jacket, its sleeves cuffed once, revealing fingers and a wrist adorned not with jewellery but ink.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” he says, voice muffled by his facemask, as he shakes Hoseok’s hand, short and firm. The bucket hat covering his hair is obscuring most of the other half of his face, and Taehyung wonders, more on Hoseok’s behalf, if he’s aware how impolite that is.

“Kim Taehyung.” He squares his shoulder, trying his very best to make the ratty hoodie he usually puts on whenever he heads out for a quick jog look high fashion.

There’s the slightest bit of hesitation in the guy’s movements, like a bump in the road, an unexpected hiccup, and then he tips his head back, and Taehyung can finally see his eyes, round and wide and as dark as his clothes.

He lowers his hand.

A frown appears on Taehyung’s face, draws his eyebrows together and narrows his eyes into a sharp glare, and his mouth is already falling open to snap a quick remark at the man across from him – it wasn’t him who suggested this arrangement – but Jimin is already pulling him down back on his seat.

Jimin’s pushing him around an awful lot today. Rubbing his shoulder, Taehyung tries to stomp on his foot under the table.

“Ouch!” Jeon Jeongguk’s chair scrapes against the floor as he flinches back, knee jerking up and almost bumping against the underside of the table.

Taehyung usually isn’t one for blushing or feeling embarrassed, but heat shoots into his cheeks nonetheless and he quickly schools the expression on his face into something feigning ignorance.

A minute passes in which only Hoseok and Min Yoongi talk, and then a thin stack of papers is passed down to everyone. Taehyung signs his name next to several blood red crosses, ensuring that whatever was to be discussed in this room would stay sealed behind his lips.

“We’ve prepared a contract,” Min Yoongi says, gesturing at Seokjin who pulls an iPad out of a messenger bag to his feet. “We’re pretty sure we’ve covered everything, but if there’s anything you’d like to add, we’re open for negotiations.”

An hour follows in which they discuss paragraph after paragraph. Taehyung tries to listen – he’s the one who will have to navigate the whole spiel in the end, after all – but he’s too distracted by the aloof expression on Jeongguk’s face. He sits with his shoulders hunched and arms crossed in front of his chest, utterly indifferent to the ongoing debate around him.

“If you want Taehyung to attend away-games, we expect you to cover the charges for plane tickets and hotel stays,” Jimin cuts in sharply, interrupting Yoongi who’s eyes snap up to him curiously.

They seize each other up for a moment, and Taehyung is reminded once again of how scarily professional Jimin can be sometimes. He’s used to him being fun and bright, the most caring person in the room, but there’s this side to him as well, the reason he’s got this job and is performing so well in it.

“Put that in, Jin.” Yoongi waves a hand in Seokjin’s direction, then he squints his eyes at Jimin. “We expect the same in case you want Jeongguk to appear at shooting sites or the like.”

Hoseok and Jimin’s poker faces are impeccable. It goes without saying that they’re trying to get the most out of this deal. They probably wouldn’t have to pay for much of Jeongguk’s expenses, because if Taehyung lands a job, chances are it will be taking place in Seoul or the immediate surrounding area.

“Seems fair,” Jimin says with a nonchalant shrug, imitating Yoongi’s waving hand at Seokjin. “Put that in.”

Seokjin slides him a look, but his mouth twitches as he scribbles a note to the side of the document pulled up on the tablet.

Taehyung zones out as his team settles matters of money, secrecy, and media presence. He tries to find something interesting outside the window, but they’re up too high to see the streets from here.

It feels weird, having his love life discussed in an almost analytical way, to make it into something that lies in the hands of other people.

When he tears his gaze away from a clearly lost pigeon sitting on the window sill of a building next to theirs, he catches Jeongguk staring at him. Their eyes meet, but it takes him a moment to react. He looks deep in thought, and Taehyung doesn’t need to see the bottom half of his face to guess he’s gnawing on his lip.

He raises his eyebrows, and Jeongguk looks almost panicked all of a sudden. Blinking once before dropping his chin to his chest, he hypnotises the table top instead.

That’s when Taehyung decides he simply doesn’t like the guy. Which is unfortunate, because as reluctant as he’s been feeling towards this fake relationship at first, the prospect of it does kind of sound like the set-up of a cheesy romantic comedy.

Rather than a surprising romance, this would probably turn out to be a thing Taehyung has to push through. But if he’s good at one thing, it’s persistence and getting the things he wants.

“This can be adjusted as needed,” Yoongi taps his forefinger against the screen of the iPad. “But we thought six months to be a good time estimate.”

Taehyung feels his stomach sink at the same time as Jeongguk sits up straight in his chair. “Six months?!” they both ask at the same time, staring at their respective management.

There’s no way it will take this long for the internet, the place where every hour, cancel culture swallows up another account, where one meme chases the next, where people refresh and swipe right without a second thought, to forget a stupid sex tape. Sure, it’s a horrifying thought, that the video will probably always be out there in some way, but it’s not like people these days are as phased by public indecency as they used to be.

Taehyung is about to voice that thought, but the way Namjoon turns to Jeongguk and says, “We really don’t need one article about a failed relationship chasing another,” makes him clasp his mouth shut.

He hasn’t thought about it like that. His agency hasn’t filled him in about the details of Jeongguk’s divorce, and while Taehyung suspects social media will gladly present the answer to him on a silver platter as soon as he asks, Jeongguk’s sudden dull eyes make him hesitate.

“Six months sounds like a good start,” Hoseok throws in. “Like you said, we can adjust it if needed. The reasons for the break up can be discussed once we get to it, but keeping your best interest in mind, I suggest nothing dramatic.”

Jeongguk curls into himself even more.

“Agreed,” Yoongi says, tone polite but dismissive. “The last point left to discuss is the announcement of the relationship. The Tigers have a game this Saturday, we think it’d look good if Taehyung and Jeongguk left together.”

“Too short notice,” Jimin shoots back immediately, not taking the time to consult Hoseok, who side-eyes him, or Taehyung, who frankly doesn’t care. “Look, I’ve seen many PR relationships, and most of them are so blatantly obvious. We want this to look real, don’t we?”

Yoongi exchanges a look with Namjoon and Seokjin. Briefly, he tries to get Jeongguk’s attention as well, but Jeongguk is still mostly interested in the table, it seems. “We do.”

“Well, then.” Taehyung might be imagining it, but he could swear Jimin preens a bit next to him. “We can’t just make them appear together out of nowhere and expect the public to buy it. Gossipers, yes. Papers, sure. But we want the general public to believe it so that they don’t even think about talking about anything else.”

There’s the slightest quirk in Yoongi’s eyebrow, almost unnoticeable. “So what’s your suggestion?”

“A date. Next week. Whenever works best for you. On that note, please make sure to email us Jeongguk’s game and training schedule,” Jimin says. “We can tip off a few paparazzi to make sure they’re spotted together.”

“I don’t see how this is better than–”

“Work needs to be done beforehand,” Jimin continues. “You say Jeongguk has a game on Saturday? Taehyung will watch it and post about it on his social media.”

Taehyung barely keeps himself from groaning and banging his forehead against the table top. He doesn’t even like football. What’s interesting about more than a dozen men chasing a stupid ball?

“Maybe Jeongguk can hint at a relationship in interviews.” Jimin seems to be on a roll, and now he’s got Hoseok to nod along enthusiastically on Taehyung’s other side, so that’s great. “Just don’t throw the press into the cold waters. Make them suspect something, but do it subtly.”

“What’s our backstory?” Taehyung throws in, mostly because he has the childish desire to handle this as well as the rest of his team – that goes to say: better than Jeongguk. “How long have we been seeing each other?”

“It’s pretty fresh,” Seokjin says before Yoongi gets a chance to. “It would look bad if we said you two have been all lovey-dovey with each other for months when Jeongguk hasn’t been–”

At that, Jeongguk finally snaps his head up. He glares at his brother intently, causing him to trail off and weigh his head from left to right.

“Let the public watch the relationship grow,” Hoseok said, nodding. “Good idea. Anything else?”

Seokjin finishes taking another note on the iPad, then he draws his eyes up and exchanges a look with the three people on his side of the table, Jeongguk included, even though he still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I believe that is all,” Yoongi says.

Hoseok nods, “Then I would suggest we schedule another meeting for tomorrow to sign the contract once you’ve worked on the changes we just made.”

Seokjin shrugs, “I can figure it out right now. It’s not that much, and I work quickly. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. You guys can exchange emails and whatnot while I create a final draft, we can print it, sign it, voilà.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jimin decides, pursing his lips.

“Great.” Clapping his hands together happily, Seokjin looks around their little group. Taehyung wonders how much older than Jeongguk he is, and then he wonders how old Jeongguk is. And then he flinches slightly, because suddenly, Seokjin is staring at him. “Now that that’s done, I guess this is the part where I tell you not to dishonour my baby brother’s virtue.”

It’s clearly meant to loosen the tension of business talk inside the room – and it works: Hoseok laughs, Namjoon and Jimin both huff politely, and Yoongi straight up rolls his eyes – but Taehyung can see something like an edge in Seokjin’s eyes, a little bit of seriousness.

“Calm down,” Yoongi says. “Considering the reason we’re here, I’d say it’s a little too late for that.”

Jeongguk slumps so far down in his chair, Taehyung actually thinks he might slide under the table any moment now.

“I’m just saying.” Seokjin winks. “It’s formality. Big brother duty. You hurt him, you die.”

“Don’t put that in the contract,” Hoseok chimes in, and then everyone laughs, Taehyung included, even though his smile is forced and doesn’t reach his eyes – everyone, except for Jeongguk.

And then there’s the scraping of chairs and the chatter of polite conversation swelling up, and the two management teams move. Taehyung stays seated, glad they’re slowly nearing the end after all, but he leans into Hoseok’s touch when he squeezes his shoulder in passing.

Five men file out of the room one after the other, and before he knows better, Taehyung is alone with Jeongguk, a virtual stranger he is now contractually required to swoon over.

Hoseok’s bright voice gets muffled when the glass door falls shut, a dull sound as it swooshes over the carpet flooring. And then it’s silent, not even the city’s traffic is loud enough to be heard up here.

Because he has nothing better to do with himself, and also because today is definitely a second breakfast kind of day, Taehyung reaches for Jimin’s abandoned bagel that’s been pushed to the edge of the table. The paper bag crinkles, deafening in the silent room.

“Wanna share?” He tries his best to get Jeongguk’s attention, tipping the bagel in his direction. It’s cream cheese and salmon. Jeongguk looks like someone who would like seafood.

To his surprise, Jeongguk actually does decide to put his big boy pants on and look up. “I didn’t know it’d be you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flit between his face and the bagel, confused for a moment. “O-kay?”

“When I read your name,” Jeongguk says. “I didn’t know it’d be you.”

Putting the bagel back down, Taehyung leans back in his chair,  arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. This Jeon Jeongguk sure has some nerve, stalking in here with not even a proper greeting to spare, and then ignoring his bagel-shaped peace offering in order to snarl at him.

“How many models named Kim Taehyungs do you think there are in Seoul?”

“I dunno,” Jeongguk says, holding his gaze. “Probably a few?”

As subtle as it is, it still stings. A well-placed jab at Taehyung’s little to nonexistent popularity.

It’s not like he’s naive enough to believe the whole world knows who he is – he goes through phases of relevancy, flowing in and out of the news, thrilled each time it happens, but rarely sticking to people’s memory – but he’s putting his all into this dream of his, and he knows he can do it. It’s just a tiny bit of luck he’s missing right now, just one golden situation, being at the right place at the right time.

Maybe with the right person.

“And I’m sure there’s only one Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk shrugs, completely indifferent. “Only one people care enough to talk about.”

Staring at him incredulously, Taehyung seriously considers the pros and cons of storming after his management and begging on his knees for them not to make him do this.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Jeongguk scoots forward in his seat, and then he finally takes the stupid bucket hat off and pulls his facemask down.

If he expects some kind of earth-shattering realisation to break down over Taehyung and make him gasp in sudden recognition, he’s getting disappointed. Taehyung squints at his face, takes note of the cute nose and the sharp jawline, but otherwise he doesn’t really get what this is about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

When Jeongguk presses his lips together, there’s a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Year 10, maths class?”

Taehyung frowns. He doesn’t really get what his scrawny fifteen-year-old self has to do with this, and frankly, it’s been a while since he’s thought about anything involving his wildly uneventful high school experience.

“Mrs Choi?” It sounds less like a question and more like a prompt, accompanied by a condescending shake of Jeongguk’s head.

A sudden memory swoops into Taehyung’s consciousness like a brief gust of air. A classroom tinged a murky grey in comparison to the golden summer’s day outside. Birds chirping temptingly in the large willow tree in the middle of the school yard, as if they were mocking everyone who couldn’t enjoy the warm rays of sunshine directly on their skin. The flip of Taehyung’s stomach as his nimble fingers secretly unfolded a small piece of paper under his desk.

The feeling of intense, staring eyes boring into the side of his head.

“You ratted me out when I cheated on my maths exam!”

Jeongguk doesn’t react, not with words, but he crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back. It’s very hard to ignore the way the movement pulls his denim jacket taut around his shoulders.

Squinting his eyes, Taehyung tries to blend the flimsy memory of him at fifteen with the much more mature and grown version sitting across from him. Now that he remembers, he can clearly see it. Jeongguk’s face looks thinner, more angular, but there’s still the same youthful roundness to the highs of his cheeks. His hair is longer, parted in the middle, but it’s the same shiny black colour, and there are strands of his fringe falling into his eyes every time he moves. He’s grown into his nose in the same way Taehyung’s grown into his ears, and they’ve both left their days of being nothing but awkward, scrawny limbs behind them.

“I had morning detention for two weeks!” Taehyung huffs an incredulous laugh that, now that he thinks about it, isn’t that funny. “They made me arrive at school at six thirty!”

“Served you right.”

With his mouth slightly agape, Taehyung raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t been aware he’d mistaken his workplace for an actual kindergarten earlier this morning and is now sitting across from a grumpy child holding a ten-year-old grudge. “Everyone cheated!”

“I didn’t,” Jeongguk snaps immediately.

“Okay.” Fine. If he’s holding out the bait, Taehyung will bite. “But was that because you were actually good at maths, or because you simply didn’t have any friends who told you it was a normal thing to do?”

At once, Jeongguk’s stare hardens, and Taehyung swears he can feel it pinching his skin. But he doesn’t avert his eyes, simply sinks back into his chair and mimics Jeongguk’s pose, crossed arms and all. To top it all off, he directs a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders at him.

“At least I wasn’t a try-hard surrounded by people who only liked him for his looks and because he had no shame or filter.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say you sound a little jealous there.”

There’s a tick in Jeongguk’s jaw. “You were a bully.” 

“Oh my God.” Taehyung lets his head fall back between his shoulders, glancing at the ceiling for support. What has he gotten himself into? “Are you serious? It’s been ten freaking years. Everyone’s a bit of a bully at fifteen.”

“But not everyone blatantly abuses their position as class president,” Jeongguk snarls. “A position they didn’t deserve one bit, by the way.”

And that makes Taehyung’s head snap forward so fast, he gets dizzy for a moment. He can deal with a lot of things (Jeongguk is right, his supposed friends hadn’t spared him a second thought as soon as he announced he would be moving to a different city halfway through Year 11), and he will admit that he hadn’t been the nicest teenager – but he’d deserved to be class president.

It had been a miracle that he got to keep that position after cheating on his exam, but he’s always been good at putting his charm and charisma to good use, saying exactly what is expected of him and buttering people up until they can’t tell him no.

It’s a superpower, if you will.

Still, he’d deserved it. If not for his outstanding grades, then for the sheer amount of effort he’d put into everything he’d done.

Oftentimes, his homework got done half asleep on a train home from another failed casting for an idol company. He crammed in time to study after school and before his evening shift at one of Busan’s busiest cinemas, reciting Japanese vocab or maths formulas to himself as he handed out red and white striped popcorn cones. His most recent google searches had all been for people in his area giving singing lessons. Countless nights had been spent in front of the bathroom mirror in unflattering, low light, getting acquainted with every single muscle in his face, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, and learning what they could do, how they could make him look.

In the long run, inevitably, one thing was bound to fall off the bandwagon, and unfortunately, it had been Mrs Choi’s maths class.

But he’s not going to sit here and let Jeon Jeongguk of all people invalidate his hard work.

“I deserved it alright,” he says. “More than you. Say, did you ever make it, or did you just get used to always being second best?”

Jeongguk seems to be in way less control over his features than Taehyung is, and it’s almost comical to watch how he immediately scoots forward in his chair, both elbows placed on the tabletop between them. Maybe he thinks it makes him look intimidating, what with his black clothes and his tattoos and his broad shoulders, but Taehyung just thinks his narrowed eyes are kind of cute.

“I wouldn’t say I’m second best right now.”

It’s a blunt jab at the amateurish state of Taehyung’s career, and it pierces Taehyung’s ego, right where it hurts, but he ignores it, forbids his facial expression to show any of what is going on inside of him.

He’s always been quick-witted, his sass the last thing about him to dissipate. So he does what he knows makes him seem intimidating, what makes the brain of whoever is on the receiving end of the action stutter – he leans forward, very far, and gets all up in Jeongguk’s face. 

It’s a little hard to do across the table, but if the way Jeongguk’s elbows draw a full inch back is anything to go by, he’d call it a success nonetheless.

“Are you sure about that?” His voice is calm, levelled, and honey-sweet. “Because if I were you, I’d talk to me very nicely. Wouldn’t it be a shame if I pulled out of the deal and told every one of your thousands of fans how desperate you are?”

At this point, Taehyung has to give it to Jeongguk: sure, he flinched back, but he hasn’t retreated all the way. He’s still staring back, never breaking Taehyung’s insistent eye contact. That’s more than what most people can say of themselves.

“Actually,” Jeongguk says, and Taehyung feels the corners of his own mouth quirk. He’s clearly trying to sound as composed and placid as Taehyung, but it comes out more like a growl. “I’m not even sure I want anyone to think I’m dating someone who’s only famous for not being able to keep it in his pants. Someone who–” Finally tearing his eyes away, he shakes his head.

Taehyung swallows all the way at the back of his throat. His face doesn’t betray him. He leans forward just a little more, and now he’s close enough, he can smell Jeongguk’s cologne.

It’s a surprisingly heady scent, sweeter than expected, like flowers in a warm spring breeze.

“Come on,” he says, putting just a little more weight onto his elbows. That smell, what flowers are that? Honeysuckle? The back legs of his chair lift off the ground. “Don’t be shy, Jeon. Say it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat, as if he’d been waiting for Taehyung to prompt him. “Someone who’s literally whoring himself out for attention.”

This time, it takes a lot of willpower to keep the signature aloofness on his face. To ignore the twisted flip of his stomach, the way the words seem to seep into a little hollow spot somewhere deep inside him, clinging to him like an aftertaste that is somehow both bitter and sweet.

“That’s exactly what you did in high school, too. Anything to make others look at you, no matter how absolutely pathetic it made you seem. You’re still the same, aren’t you, and it would genuinely surprise me if you could fool anyone into actually believing I’d ever want to be with someone like you.”

With a thud, the legs of Taehyung’s chair fall back to the ground. He feels his jaw move, grinding his teeth together, but he can’t let Jeongguk see. He opens his mouth before he even knows what he wants to say, and then just lets impulsiveness take over.

“It’s not like the public will buy that you’re the picture-perfect boyfriend either.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s significantly more bite to it than before. “Not when your marriage fell apart after – what? A year?”

It’s mean, and he sees how his words hit a nerve, but he can’t find it in himself to feel sorry right now. He doesn’t know how accurate his guess was, if Jeongguk’s marriage really only lasted for a year, but judging by the hard set of his jaw and his hands balling into fists, he can’t be that far off.

They’re playing dirty now. If anything, Taehyung knows how to do that. And it’s not like he’s the one who started the whole thing, he’s just giving Jeongguk a taste of his own medicine.

“Aw.” He tilts his head to the side, pushing his bottom lip out slightly. Jeongguk’s eyes flit towards his mouth only for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to feel another twinge of satisfaction. “Come on, now, don’t be sore. It’s okay to ask for help with the skeletons in your closet. Face it, Jeon. You need me.”

“So do you.”

Taehyung feels the muscles in his face begging him to allow them to stretch into a triumphant grin. Not yet, though.

Of course he knows that if they pull this relationship off, he’s very likely to benefit from it immensely. That’s the goal his company is striving towards, anyway. But he’s also aware, now more than ever, that his career – still in its early stages, as he likes to make himself believe – doesn’t even have the capacity to suffer a huge blow if they fail.

Jeongguk’s however – and there’s a brief twinge of envy in his gut at the thought – does. And precisely that is what gives Taehyung the upper hand in the situation.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves another competition.” Finally, Taehyung smiles. With his mouth, not his eyes. “And lucky for you, I’m gonna win. I’ll be the best boyfriend you can imagine.”

He enjoys it, how Jeongguk sits there, still with his elbows on the table and the sleeves of his denim jacket slowly sliding down his forearms, exposing more of the intricate swirls of ink, and hangs on to his every word. 

It’s really always been like this, he thinks and quickly shakes the thought, anything to get the people to look at me.

“You’re getting it all, Jeon.” He leans in again, dangerously close, until his world is a field of budding flowers. “The whole act. Mushy good morning texts. Love declarations accidentally overheard by the press. I’m gonna make holding hands a freaking experience.”

To his surprise, Jeongguk leans in as well. It’s astonishingly bold all of a sudden, and Taehyung almost, almost, flinches back.

“Not if I beat you to it.” It’s barely above a whisper, the words a low but daring rumble. Taehyung can feel them against his skin. “You think you can trick people? Better watch out, or else, by the end of all this, you’ll be the one who’s been fooled.”

There’s something about Jeongguk’s eyes, about the way the light breaks in them and makes them sparkle. Taehyung can’t look away, as if there’s some kind of gravitational pull to them.

Movement at the corner of his vision. Footsteps in the hallway. The sound of the glass door being pushed open.

He falls back in his chair, but not without huffing a challenging “Good luck with that,” at Jeongguk.

Chapter Text

Eunchan
Any news yet?

With a groan and a roll of his eyes so excessive, he’s actually scared they might get stuck in his head, Taehyung drops his phone screen first on his belly. He’s stretched out on his couch in front of the tv, bare feet propped up on a throw pillow on the coffee table, wearing his most comfortable pair of sweatpants, delivery food on its way.

A set up for a nice, relaxing Saturday evening – and now this.

Pushing his bottom lip out, he blows a few stray curls out of his eyes. There’s an over- enthusiastic man talking on tv, but he’s neither attractive nor interesting enough to hold Taehyung’s attention. Resigned, he picks his phone back up, swiping out of the opened camera app and into his messages.

Taehyung
its been literally four days

Eunchan
??? And
Are you guys even looking into the whole thing

It’s no secret that Taehyung’s taste in men is questionable at best – had always been that way; the boy in primary school who didn’t own a single pencil himself but never hesitated to borrow all of the thirty-two Taehyung owned without asking first; his younger sister’s guitar teacher who insisted he was straight after making out with him thrice; guys who only talked and never listened, who swiped right on his face online but ignored it once it was right in front of them – but it’s moments like this one, moments in which he has to talk to guys like Eunchan, who he knows uses 2-in-1 shampoo and is made up of excuses and honey sweet lies, without the consolation that at least, at least they can make him feel good, that he wishes he could just like someone normal.

Taehyung
omg of course we are
the entire team is trying to figure it out
chill

Eunchan
There’s a fucking sextape of me on the internet Taehyung
I wanna sue whoever posted it

Taehyung presses the palm of his hand squarely over his face. Maybe, if he just tries hard enough, he can suffocate himself.

Of course, he hasn’t forgotten about the video. How could he? The whole company is on the case, and he receives updates on the situation every couple hours. The thing is, Taehyung’s definitely the feeling type – he’s a sensitive boy, as his grandma used to say while ruffling his hair – but years and years of putting himself out there unsuccessfully have thickened his skin. He’s grown a more rational mind, and it’s telling him that even if his team finds out who hacked his cloud and posted the video, it wouldn’t make a difference. People have seen it already, and it’s practically impossible to delete something off the internet and bury its last remaining traces so deep no one accidentally stumbles over them for at least a lifetime.

He could sit here and cry about the embarrassment and pinch of shame he feels whenever he thinks about the fact that strangers now know what pleasure sounds like trickling from his lips – or he could just move on. Concentrate on this next opportunity. Give it his all, because he’s never learned to do less.

Eunchan
My dick is out there for anyone to see Tae

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Taehyung’s voice hums with the drawl of annoyance. 

Who does Eunchan even think he is, and does he know who he’s talking to? It’s not like there’s any doubt who’s the focus of the video for the majority of the time, and it’s not Eunchan. The whole thing had been his idea in the first place, and Taehyung had allowed himself to be persuaded, had liked the idea of someone enjoying their time together so much, they wanted to relive it on their own. He’d liked the challenge, too, this new way of setting a scene, of angling his body in ways more alluring and seducing than he was used to.

Eunchan’s face isn’t even in the frame, not once, always obscured by Taehyung in one way or another. The most that is seen of him is his profile as they kiss, but even then Taehyung’s hand is cupping his jaw intimately.

Taehyung
dont worry about that
its not impressive enough for anyone to recognise it

A sense of smug pride surges through him, and he purses his lips to hide his grin, even though no one can see him. Quickly, as the three dots pop up, he takes a screenshot of the conversation, and taps out of the app. A second later, his phone is set to Work Focus, the screen dimmed and all notifications except ones from his management silenced.

On tv, the camera zooms out on an absurdly green field. Different coloured dots are moving in from the bottom of the screen, white and red. 

Taehyung lets out an involuntary noise of slight panic and quickly jams his finger down on the button for his blinds to close halfway. The image on screen becomes clearer. He aims his camera at it, making sure it looks casual and that the soft early evening lighting filtered through the gaps in the blinds renders what can be seen of his living room cosy, and starts filming.

It takes another second or two, but then there’s a hard cut and the camera focuses on the players, one after another, as they jog into the stadium. The cheers of the fans are deafening in the background.

Taehyung holds his phone perfectly still, but he childishly sticks his tongue out when Jeongguk appears. 

He’s one of the players wearing white, and Taehyung presses the lines of his teeth together as he ignores how well it suits him. The t-shirt with his last name and player number, a bold black 7, on the back and the Nike logo and South Korean flag on the front, clings to his chest in all the right places while revealing almost the entire expanse of his tattooed arms.

The camera hovers on him for quite some time, and the moderator talking animatedly in the background is giving Taehyung enough of an idea about how important and good of a player he must be.

There’s a traitorous swoop somewhere low in his stomach. It’s gone as quickly as it arose, though, and he quickly brushes it off.

Jeongguk’s hair is pushed back by a zigzagged hairband, but there’s one strand that simply refuses to stay away from his forehead, and he keeps trying to blow it away as he runs, and his little pout somehow manages to be cute and stupidly hot at the same time.

Biting his lip, Taehyung shakes his head, cutting the video off just after the focus of the camera has shifted to another player. He’s just glad that he gets to pull this PR stunt off with someone who doesn’t hurt to look at, is all.

He’s tempted to just switch to another program, or find something else to do altogether, but he finds a little part of him to be curious, so he shrugs and leaves the match on. Maybe Jeongguk will get his ass handed to him out there today, and Taehyung can pretend to be all sad about that on social media while secretly giggling into his fist later.

Once the game takes off, Taehyung actually finds himself more emerged in it than he thought he would be. Instagram is open on his phone, the video he’d taken cropped and ready to be posted to his story, but he keeps zoning out. He tries to make himself believe it’s because there are many gorgeous legs on show in front of him right now, but the truth is that he’s genuinely impressed.

Impressed by Jeongguk, to be specific.

He’s fast. Faster than anyone else, and agile, too, in the way he steals the ball right from between someone else’s feet without stumbling or slowing down. His teammates keep passing the ball to him, and while this doesn’t necessarily seem to surprise the opponents, they still can’t do much to stop it.

“And there is South Korea’s Golden Boy again! Look at the footwork, look at hi– Choi’s trying to catch up to him, but there’s no–”

Not thinking twice, Taehyung scratches his first video and instead aims the camera of his phone at the tv again. His hand is a little more shaky now, because he’s not watching through the smaller screen, his eyes are transfixed on what’s happening on the big one.

Jeongguk really looks golden in the warm rays of the summer sun. The camera is following his every move, has to be quick to keep up with him. There’s sweat beading at his temples. Concentration makes him frown. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t take the time to check on who’s following suit behind him, as he kicks his foot out hard against the ball, sending it skitting across the grass towards another player.

There’s so much force and speed behind the pass, no one is able to stop it. His teammate – Taehyung can’t make out his last name on the back of his shirt, darts his foot out at the exact right time. The ball takes off, leaves the ground, and finally lands in the top left corner of the goal, metres out of the keeper’s reach.

The moderator sounds a little bit like he’s losing his mind, but Taehyung doesn’t really hear him. His phone is still filming as the camera cuts from the striker to Jeongguk, who’s grinning from ear to ear as he high fives his closest teammates, that one strand of hair still hanging into his eyes.

Taehyung posts the video to his story, not caring that it looks a little rushed and that his sharp inhale just before Jeongguk passes the ball is audible. He captions the whole thing with a very small ‘my golden boy 💛’ in the bottom right corner.

Just as he’s about to tap and swipe his way over to Jeongguk’s account – they are contractually bound to follow one another now, but he hasn’t had it in him to give two shits about his fake boyfriend’s social media so far – the screen of his phone changes to a very unfortunate picture of Jimin pulling faces.

“Bonsoir.” He takes his feet off the coffee table and pushes himself up from the couch, wandering over to his snack cabinet. The sushi he ordered is simply taking too long.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jimin says, and Taehyung can imagine him gesturing with his hand. “What are you doing right now?”

Staring into the open cabinet, Taehyung wrinkles his nose. He’s running dangerously low on gummy bears. As he pulls a green piece of candy free, he tries to keep the crinkling to a minimum, masking it by saying, “Watching football like the good boy I am, of course.”

“Okay, ‘cause I need you to sit down.” Jimin sounds awfully on edge. “Like, right now.”

Frowning, Taehyung drops the gummy bear back into the plastic bag and turns around, feet dragging over the carpet as he walks back to the couch. “‘Kay. I’m sitting,” he says right before he actually does. “What’s going on?”

“So.” Jimin is clearly gearing up for something big. “I was just going through my emails.”

“Work emails?” Taehyung asks, lowering the volume of the tv. There’s nothing interesting happening currently, at least as far as he can tell. Still, the moderator is yelling, for whatever reason.

“Yes.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung sighs. “It’s the weekend.”

“You try managing your ass and then we can talk about weekends.” It’s a playful jab, and it makes Taehyung grin. “Besides… I had an email from Yoongi I still needed to reply to.”

Taehyung hums, a little distracted by the camera zooming in on Jeongguk as he jogs, eyes following the ball. What a funny thing, that Jimin got to first name base with Jeongguk’s manager quicker than Taehyung with his actual (fake) boyfriend.

“Anyway. Oh my God, I can’t believe you just completely stole my thunder. I was about to make this big.”

“Just tell me what’s going on. I’m getting worried.”

“Well, don’t,” Jimin says. “Be happy instead.”

“What, and the next thing you tell me is to live, love, laugh or what?”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin groans. “You’re impossible. Just listen to me. Levi’s want you for their Buy better. Wear longer. ad.”

Taehyung tears his eyes away from the big screen in front of him. He blinks a couple times, his brain frantically trying to sort through what Jimin just told him. The words still echo in his head, and he knows their meaning, but still, it’s not clicking.

“It’ll be you and two others,” Jimin goes on. “I think one of them is freaking Jaden Smith, Tae. I mean, you won’t meet him, because your part will be filmed in Seoul, and from what I know there aren’t any group shots planned, but–”

“Hold on.” Taehyung holds his hand up in the air and touches his four fingers to the pad of his thumb as if to shut Jimin up. “Wait. Did you just say Levi’s?”

“Yes.”

“Like, the brand.”

“What else!” Jimin sounds excited now, a giggle carrying along with his voice. Clearly, he’s been waiting for this exact reaction.

There’s a swoop in Taehyung’s stomach, similar to the one he’d felt earlier when he’d seen Jeongguk appear on tv, except this one is a little further up, almost a flutter in his chest, and it’s much, much stronger. It makes his hands tremble.

“You’re kidding,” he says, because this could be it, but he can’t – he can’t – get his hopes up if it isn’t real. “You’re actually fucking with me.”

“I promise you I’m not. I’ll forward the email to you.” It already sounds like he is, the sound of a mechanical keyboard clicking in the background. “I just have to confirm it. If you’re up for it, that is.”

Taehyung’s phone vibrates against his ear. “Jimin.”

“I know!”

Taehyung tries his best to drown out the little voice of reason at the back of his head. It’s one ad. It probably won’t be focused on him. He’s done this before with other brands, and it has never gotten him anywhere in the long run.

But maybe. Maybe this time, it will.

They want him. They want him.

“But.” All of a sudden, his eyebrows draw together in a frown. “Where is this coming from? I haven’t even been on that date with Jeon yet. How do they…”

How do they know who I am?

“Well,” Jimin says, and if Taehyung were a betting man, he’d say his friend is shrugging and pursing his lips. “Would be a shame if there wasn’t at least one good thing coming out of the whole sex tape scandal, wouldn’t it?”

Taehyung rakes a hand through his hair and leans back into the cushions. “Are you serious?”

“I mean.” Jimin clears his throat. “They didn’t explicitly clarify in the email, but I’m assuming. You did give everyone a good show of your legs, after all.”

There’s heat rising up Taehyung’s cheeks. He knows Jimin is referring to the beginning of the video, knows his best friend is as down to never mention what happens on the recording after Taehyung is pulled into the sheets as he is, but it’s still weird.

“Hey.” It’s almost as if Jimin’s voice is able to reach through the phone and wrap a consolatory arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Remember when I accidentally sent you a nude?”

“You were just shirtless,” Taehyung argues immediately. “It’s not the same.”

“I’ve seen the video one time,” Jimin says. “And that was when we skipped through it the day it was posted.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, Taehyung tries to hold onto his rationality. Really, it’s easy to put everything into perspective and accept that strangers have seen him in one of his most intimate moments, but it’s all the more mortifying when he remembers that people he knows, people he’s close to, have seen it as well.

His parents know it’s out there, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m not mad at you, Jimin.”

“Oh, I know you’re not, babe,” Jimin is quick to say. “But I need you to know I don’t think of you any differently now than I did before you were hacked. Hobi doesn’t either. People are quick to judge, but I can promise you, every other person has done something along those lines before at least once.”

Taehyung wills lightheartedness into his voice as his fingers start fumbling with a loose thread of one of the throw pillows. It comes a little easier now, because he knows Jimin would never lie just to make him feel better. “Got any dirty laundry to your name, Park Jimin?” 

“Oh, heaps and heaps,” Jimin confesses, his tone matching Taehyung’s. “You alright?”

“I’m shooting with Levi’s.” Taehyung grins. “Take a guess as to how I’m feeling.”

“That’s my boy.” Jimin sounds like he’s beaming from ear to ear, and it makes Taehyung feel comfortably warm. “I’ll reply to their email right away.”

“Mhm.” Taehyung watches the players on screen jog off the field. Jeongguk is in focus again, catching a towel Kim Namjoon throws his way and dabbing at his forehead. There’s an expression of muted pride on his face, and that’s the moment when Taehyung thinks maybe, just maybe, they have more in common than they think they do. “Do that. And then get your ass over here so I can make sure you don’t think of anything work related before Monday morning.”

Jimin’s smile is audible in his voice when he says, “Aye aye, captain.”

With a fond roll of his eyes, Taehyung says goodbye and hangs up the call. 

Sometimes, he feels a little lost, his tough outer shell cracked open by nagging self-doubt, the persistent question of what the hell he is doing with his life, that annoying little voice at the back of his head that with time, starts sounding more and more like Jeon Jeongguk telling him he isn’t good enough to ever make it big. And in precisely these moments it’s good to remember that his colleagues are also his friends. That he shouldn’t have to dedicate every single thought to his career, and neither should they.

Everyone deserves a break every once in a while.

The image on tv changes to two men in stiff grey suits talking a mile a minute about the match. On the screen behind them, Jeongguk’s pass and the following goal play on loop.

Taehyung switches the tv off. He needs to call the sushi place and remind them about the order he’s placed. But first, he shoots a quick text to Hoseok, telling him to get out of the office building, where Taehyung is absolutely certain he’s spending his Saturday night, and over to his apartment. 

***

The Levi’s shoot is scheduled for later the following week. The days beforehand are consumed by updating his measurements and even taking some new headshots – “Just to be sure,” as Hoseok says.

Taehyung makes sure to give it his all. He takes extra good care of his skin that week, never half-assing his extensive skincare routine, and he drinks a lot of water. He’s never been a fan of diet culture, and it doesn’t really work for him, either, he has too big a sweet tooth, but he knows how important it is for him to take good care of his body, especially in the field of work he’s in.

It may not seem that way, but modelling is actually a very hard and exhausting job. Even to someone like him, whom, to a certain extent at least, it comes natural to; he still has to put in a lot of effort, and it can be as taxing on the mind as it is on the body.

Still, Taehyung loves it, loses himself to the rush of adrenaline the attention of a camera provides for him. It’s his dream, to do this, to be good at it, the best.

The date with Jeongguk is scheduled for Wednesday night. Their agencies picked out a restaurant and anonymously tipped off paparazzi, plus it’s two days until the ad shoot, so Taehyung spends hours getting ready, ensuring he looks presentable from every angle.

He puts on one of his own trusty pairs of Levi’s jeans, a simple straight cut with a comfortable fit, and then he dresses the whole thing up. It’s fun to step in front of a mirror after every added item of clothing and see it all transform into something different, something more, before it eventually comes together with pieces of gleaming jewellery.

It’s one of his favourite things, how just one small thing can make all the difference. How he can do both, show people his boyish side one second and a more delicate version of himself the next. There are no boxes that fit him, not if he decides there aren’t.

Jeongguk and he have been all over internet news channels and tabloids the past couple days. It seems like their plan is already taking root, even though they haven’t been seen with each other in public (of course not, they’ve been avoiding even just thinking about the other like the plague). But Taehyung’s Instagram story from the match day had been seen by a ridiculous number of people, and rumours had spiked even before the game was finished. After a well deserved win, a particularly annoying reporter had cornered a sweaty Jeongguk and asked him in a way he must believe was subtle about a new lover in his life.

In Jeongguk’s defence, he’d only looked surprised for the briefest of seconds, and then his cheeks had sported the most adorable dusting of pink, and he’d turned the question down with a cheeky ambiguous answer.

Not that Taehyung has watched this clip in its entirety every time it crossed his Twitter timeline.

And now they’re here, sitting across from each other in a booth of a restaurant that serves dishes the cost of Taehyung’s weekly grocery run, silent. 

There’s a big window right next to them. A table reservation made with ulterior motives. The plan is that the paparazzi catch them as they unassumingly finish their dinner and get ready to leave.

“That jacket is a choice,” Jeongguk comments coldy over his menu, but Taehyung catches his eyes lingering on his chest for just a moment too long.

“That jacket is Louis Vuitton,” he shoots back, not budging even a single bit. He’s bought this jacket with his own hard earned money, hoping and praying one day he’d get to wear the luxury brand for a living, and he will not accept criticism about it.

On the inside, he tries not to be too butthurt about the comment. He doesn’t like that it stings, that out of all people, Jeon Jeongguk is the one to get under his skin. For some twisted reason, this brings out the competitiveness in him even more.

But the thing is, he doesn’t even have it in himself to lie about the quality of Jeongguk’s getup. How good he looks. Taehyung has an appreciation for clothes that runs deep, connects him to his younger self who had struggled so much finding himself in the plain burgundy uniform of his high school. Clothes are interesting, from a fashion designer’s perspective as well as from the one of someone who tries to express himself every day anew.

And Jeongguk seems to express himself in dark, high-waisted slacks that do the look of his legs a little too good just fine. He’s wearing a soft button down with a turbulent black-and-white pattern on it with cool confidence, top buttons undone and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There’s not much jewellery, no rings at all, just a couple silver bracelets catching the soft light from the lamps hanging directly above their table.

It doesn’t matter, Taehyung is transfixed as if he was the shiniest thing in the entire world.

It’s hard to tear his eyes away, and he never manages for long, they always just find their way back to any part of Jeongguk. Looking at him, he wonders if he smells like honeysuckle tonight, too.

“I’m just saying.” Jeongguk’s eyes wander over the restaurant’s sleek interior once before finally settling on Taehyung’s face. No need to tip off paparazzi if you’re gonna look like a flower field on legs.”

Taehyung just barely resists the urge to defensively cross his arms in front of his chest. He can’t afford his body language to look aversive right now, even though as far as he can tell, there isn’t anyone watching them – yet. Plus, again, he really likes this jacket, with the bright floral pattern, the colours rich and vibrant even in dimmed lighting.

“And what nice legs they are, huh.” He can say that. They earned him an ad deal with Levi’s.

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk sets the menu down. But then he suddenly looks like he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands, so he picks it back up. He buries his nose in it, which is a shame, because sadly, it’s a cute nose.

The silence between them is so charged, there’s no capacity for it to feel awkward. It’s like there’s a current of strong electricity between them – Taehyung feels it tuck on a spot right behind his sternum – but every time one of them makes a move, the sparks that fly are burning to the touch.

From time to time, out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung notices a woman looking their way from her seat at a table not too far from theirs. She must think she’s so sly, but Taehyung can see her just fine despite the decorative fern between them.

With one hand, he pretends to adjust his own menu in front of him, the other, he puts on the table between them, very far on to what could be considered Jeongguk’s side. He tries to get his attention with his eyes only, directing intense stare after stare at his forehead.

He doesn’t notice.

Taehyung bitterly wonders if that is one of the reasons why Jeongguk is no longer married. Maybe he’s a guy that just doesn’t notice.

When he stays oblivious, Taehyung counts to five in his head, maybe a little quicker than he normally would, and then he darts his foot out.

Jeongguk jumps, his knee jerking up and hitting the underside of the table, and Taehyung belatedly realises that this is only the second time they’ve met, and he’s kicked him in the shin twice already.

Oh well.

With a tick in his jaw, Jeongguk finally meets his gaze. It looks like he’s about to give Taehyung a genuine piece of his mind (Taehyung internally scolds himself for finding the thought of that intriguing), but when he sees the intensity of Taehyung’s glare, he seems to put two and two together.

His hand is surprisingly soft and comfortably warm. Not clammy or sweaty at all.

Taehyung spreads his fingers just a little more, allowing Jeongguk to thread their hands together across the table. He feels his thumb swipe over his knuckles, quickly, like a reflex or a no brainer, as if this is just how Jeon Jeongguk holds hands.

With his eyes fixed on the menu, Taehyung is suddenly hyper aware of his own body. He feels all the ways in which his clothes touch him, the slight press of his belt against his belly, the warmth of his jacket, but most of all he feels the prickle of his skin. It’s worst in the very tips of his fingers, where they rest against the back of Jeongguk’s hand.

It’s distracting, everything about Jeongguk is. He’s insufferable, and handsome, and arrogant and condescending and definitely, undoubtedly Taehyung’s type.

But he’s off limits. He’s so far off limits in fact, Taehyung shouldn’t even be thinking about this in his dreams. He’s just a means to an end to him, they are to each other, colleagues, in a way, and everyone knows mixing business with pleasure never makes for a good time in the long run.

The problem with Taehyung is, though, that more often than not, he already knows the full extent of the mess he’s threatening to get himself into – and then he dives in head first anyway.

When the waiter shows up, Taehyung is perplexed to realise he’s been staring at the menu for the better part of ten minutes, but he hasn’t actually been reading. Across from him, Jeongguk narrates his order, and he has adorable, pearly white teeth that catch on his bottom lip even when the smile he gives is tense and polite.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” Taehyung blurts when the waiter turns to him. Putting all his faith into his cheeks bunching up around a smile of his own to diffuse the weirdness of the moment, he hands his menu back, never letting go of Jeongguk’s hand.

Once they’re alone, Jeongguk looks at him with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. “Seriously?”

“Careful,” Taehyung says. “Gonna judge you on your dinner choice.”

“Of course you will.”

“Please tell me your dish isn’t heavy on the veggies.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Well, now I’m regretting not taking the Caesar salad. Oh my God, don’t make that face.”

With the disgusted frown still on his face, there’s the slightest flutter in Taehyung’s stomach. It’s good to know Jeongguk is capable of talking more than five words at a time.

“You act as if I threatened to poison you.”

“Same thing.” Taehyung waves his free hand through the air. He’s never been a fan of vegetables, something his parents had always hoped he’d grow out of once he got older. That didn’t happen, and now, at twenty-four, the only green thing he genuinely likes to eat are gummy bears.

“You’re way too dramatic, anyone’s ever told you that?”

“And you’re boring. But I bet you knew that already.”

“I’m not the one who just ordered the exact same meal as someone else.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes, just slightly. He hadn’t expected Jeongguk to say anything else, and if he hates one thing, it is not having the last word.

There’s mockery in the raise of Jeongguk’s eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches, just once, giving Taehyung the briefest idea of what a smirk would look like stretching his lips.

It makes his blood boil, Jeongguk’s complacent demeanour, making him look larger and more important than he actually is, and Taehyung hates, absolutely despises, that he knows this is exactly what he wants.

He shrugs, and wills his voice to remain calm and unbothered, “I believe what someone orders in a restaurant tells you a lot about them as a person.”

Perplexity washes over Jeongguk’s face. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “Like what?”

Taehyung has to bite the insides of his cheeks in order not to smile in satisfaction. It’s so easy to get a raise out of Jeongguk, to intrigue him, and he wonders if he’s aware of that. “For example,” he says. “That they like mushrooms. Instant red flag.”

Scoffing, Jeongguk leans forward in his chair. His shirt moves across his chest, and Taehyung really tries to not pay that any mind. “What if I ordered the creamy mushroom pasta.”

At once, Taehyung’s face falls. He had been joking before – he never orders the same thing as the person across from him. Where is the fun in that? – but the thing is, he really doesn’t like mushrooms, to the point where they make him feel sick to his stomach, so this is a problem.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, completely straight-faced.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Taehyung contemplates if the public humiliation of throwing up mushroom sauce all over South Korea’s Golden Boy will get people to forget about his sex tape quicker than their romance. 

It probably would. 

Is it worth it, though?

His chair scrapes over the wooden floorboards of the restaurant as he pushes up onto his feet.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk flexes his hand where it’s still holding on to Taehyung’s, and throws a quick look over his shoulder, probably to check on the woman who’s been so interested in their business.

“Changing my order.” Taehyung tries to pull his arm back, but Jeongguk has a death grip on him.

And then he starts laughing.

It’s in his eyes first, and it makes Taehyung’s stomach flip in a way that’s different from the way the mushrooms would have, but no less strong. Jeongguk’s whole face scrunches up when he grins. His face looks rounder and younger like that, more carefree.

“Sit down. I was messing with you.”

It takes a lot out of Taehyung not to stomp his foot like a frustrated toddler throwing a tantrum. But at this point, it’s no longer just the woman watching them, it’s the man sitting across from her, twisted in his seat, as well, and another couple two tables over, and the waiters.

So Taehyung does what he’s best at: pretend there’s nothing bothering him. He takes a deep breath through his nose, so that it isn’t apparent for anyone to see, and then he giggles.

For a moment, Jeongguk looks confused, but as soon as Taehyung lowers himself to his chair again, he seems to catch on. He threads their hands together a little tighter, another swipe of his thumb over Taehyung’s knuckles.

“Asshole.”

“Uh-uh.” Jeongguk makes a condescending tsk-tsk sound. “Is that how you talk to your boyfriend?”

There’s something in the tone of his low voice that makes Taehyung bite the insides of his cheeks, hard, and breathe through his nose once again. He feels fury rise up inside of him, hot and quick and too sweet to resist.

“If he gives me a reason to.” He smiles at Jeongguk. Shrugs as if he can’t help it. Bats his lashes innocently.

Usually, this always guarantees him the same reaction. Whoever sits across from him gets stuck on his wide doe eyes and momentarily loses their train of thought. It’s an excellent tactic Taehyung’s perfected over the years; it ensures he’s the one to direct the conversation.

It doesn’t work with Jeongguk.

He just raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. There’s definitely enough distance between them, but Taehyung can feel the movement of him spreading his legs under the table anyway. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Something seems to shift in his gaze, rendering it a little heavier as Taehyung feels it flitting up and down his face. It’s deeply unnerving in the same way it’s undeniably exciting.

“Suit yourself,” Taehyung says. “There’s more where that one came from.”

That makes Jeongguk stop short, eyes caught, just for a moment, on Taehyung’s mouth. “That a promise?”

Taehyung’s heart is in his throat. He swallows it back down with force. “Bet.”

Out of nowhere, the waiter reappears, placing two glasses of sparkling water in front of them. He smiles politely at either one of them, but Taehyung notices his gaze lingering for a second too long on their still intertwined hands.

“The food will be with you shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually,” Taehyung speaks up without too much thought behind it. He feels Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze around him. “Could I have some wine, please?”

Promptly, the waiter nods, the mild smile on his lips firmly in place although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. Would you like to have another look at our wine card?”

“Oh. Um. No, thank you.” Fuck if he knows anything about wine. The one he usually buys at the store tastes fine and does the job exceptionally well, and he’s never paid the label any mind. He can’t say that here, though, Jeongguk is already on his merry way to snapping his fingers in half. “How about you just surprise me? I trust your recommendation.”

There’s the tiniest bit of surprise on the waiter’s face as he starts back in the direction of the kitchen. Taehyung can only assume he and Jeongguk don’t strike anyone as a particularly adventurous set up right now.

He’s proven right when his eyes fall on Jeongguk and find him with his mouth set in a thin, straight line.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” The evening has barely begun and Taehyung’s already feeling like he needs a twelve hour nap to recover from this.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re judging the hell out of me.” It takes an impossible amount of self control for Taehyung not to roll his eyes. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.”

“I think you know how to have fun a little too well.”

It’s such a stark contrast, the innocent image of their entangled fingers on the tabletop between them and the acidity in Jeongguk’s tone, the meaning behind the words. It makes Taehyung grind his teeth together so hard the grating sound is probably audible three tables over.

“Okay,” he says, and that stupid fake smile is back on his face and it’s starting to seriously hurt his cheeks. “Alright. Fine. Cards on the table, what’s got your panties in a twist, Jeon?”

That tick is back in Jeongguk’s jaw. It fills Taehyung with equal amounts smugness and annoyance to realise he’s definitely the better actor out of the two of them. He just hopes the people sitting behind him who have a perfect view of Jeongguk’s face don’t pick up on his constipated expression.

“Come on,” he prompts further, wiggling his fingers in Jeongguk’s hold. “What’s your problem?”

“You know full well what my problem is.” His voice is a bite Taehyung can barely dodge. At once, his arm moves, his hand slipping away.

Taehyung curls his fingers, traps it. And then he props his elbow on the table, all manners be damned, and lifts their intertwined hands so he can rest his cheek against Jeongguk’s tattooed knuckles.

“Listen.” He gives Jeongguk the dreamiest look he can muster up right now. “I’m not thrilled to be doing this either, okay? Believe it or not, I can think of better ways to spend my Wednesday evening than sit across from Mister Grumpy Pants.”

Taehyung can’t lie about it, having Jeongguk’s undivided attention on him, up close like this, feels a little electrifying. His hand smells really good, too, like soap and skin, and it’s so much softer against the side of Taehyung’s face than he would have expected.

“But if you don’t want to make the news with another dating scandal caused by me chucking my overpriced glass of wine directly in your face because you’re being an unbearable prick” With muted delight, he notes the way Jeongguk’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “I suggest you put in a little more effort.”

For a moment, the world is frozen in place. Jeongguk doesn’t move, and neither does Taehyung, but his skin tingles where he’s touching him and his mouth suddenly feels very dry.

But then.

Jeongguk’s hand slips out of his hold, and maybe, just maybe, Taehyung is a little too lost in his eyes to react immediately. He doesn’t have to. Because Jeongguk isn’t going very far.

The next thing he feels is one of his curls being brushed behind his ear. It’s just the very tip of Jeongguk’s finger, a butterfly’s touch, but Taehyung is glad he’s wearing a jacket that hides the possibility of goosebumps on his arms nonetheless.

The touch doesn’t stop there. Jeongguk traces the line of his jaw, and then Taehyung feels two fingers digging into his chin. For one foolish heartbeat, he thinks Jeongguk is going to press his thumb against his bottom lip.

He doesn’t. Just holds Taehyung’s face as if he’s about to lean in and kiss it.

“If you think I’m an unbearable prick you should try spending some time with yourself.”

His voice is so low and sweet, the meaning of his words almost flies directly over Taehyung’s head. He catches himself before he can fall.

“Aw, what a romantic thing for you to say, babe.”

It’s funny to watch how every single fibre of Jeongguk’s being has to work hard in order to keep himself from cringing. “Well, you know me, darling,” he says through gritted teeth, but his finger is impossibly gentle as it boops against Taehyung’s nose. “Ever the hopeless romantic.”

A simple word, all but breathed at him, shouldn’t make Taehyung’s head spin. It shouldn't. It shouldn't, but it does, and he’s going to fight it.

He forces his features into a frown, is glad no one can see his heart frantically beating through his shirt. “Darling,” he scoffs. “That makes us sound like we’re forty and married. Let’s not move that fast.”

Jeongguk is already metres away before Taehyung realises what he’s said. His hand is gone from his cheek and he’s leaned back all the way in his chair. He looks as if Taehyung just slapped him across the face, twice, with both hands.

Taehyung’s mouth drops open, but he can’t say anything. A hand appears in his field of vision, eclipsing Jeongguk, and then there’s a glass of white wine in front of him. The waiter tells him about the drink, mentions a year and a French sounding brand, but Taehyung can’t look away from Jeongguk long enough to process any kind of information.

“I didn’t mean to–” he says as soon as the waiter has chirpily announced he will be back in a minute with their food, but Jeongguk interrupts him coldly.

“Forget it.”

He doesn't know why he’s sorry about it. It’s not like Jeongguk hasn’t said things of which the implication hit way below the belt only minutes before.

And then it’s awkward. The most excruciating awkward silence Taehyung’s ever had to sit through, and mind you, his sex tape has been leaked to the worldwide web and his management’s reaction hasn’t exactly been cheers.

“Why did you guys break up?”

“Don’t.”

Taehyung presses his lips together. Something has kept him from deep diving into an extensive Naver search about his fake boyfriend. It’s not that he isn’t curious – there aren’t many people married by twenty-four, and there are even less who are married and divorced – but he thinks it might be a little… unfair.

He himself hasn’t made the news all too often, but every time he has there had been certain papers and internet sources who had managed to spin even the most positive of news around until they sounded the opposite. He’s seen the headlines about his latest mishap, and imagining the creative titles a divorce could be renamed as makes him a little sick.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Do I know them?” Granted, Taehyung didn’t even remember he’d been in the same year as Jeongguk in high school, but he figures it’s rather likely Jeongguk met his ex either in school or among the other famous people he’s around these days.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as if he himself can’t believe he trusted Taehyung would simply drop the topic. “No.” Leaning forward again, he swirls one finger through the condensation at the side of his glass. “Met her in university.”

“You went to university?” Taehyung hasn’t seen Jeongguk since he was fifteen, but for some reason he can’t really envision South Korea’s Golden Boy pulling all nighters and grinding to get assignments in on time.

“Yeah,” he says. “For like, half a semester. Then the whole football thing sorta took over and I didn’t have enough time to do both.” He pauses. Then: “Did you go?”

“Nah.” Taehyung reaches for his wine and takes a tentative sip. It tastes sweeter than expected.

To him, university has been out of the equation since before he even graduated high school. It’s not that he wouldn’t like to go, or that he’s not interested in anything – he can think of a few things he’d like to learn more about from the top of his head, fashion at the very beginning of the list – he’s just consumed by this other dream, and he dedicates every waking minute to making it work.

Jeongguk snorts.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It’s just funny that the top students in our year are the ones who ended up not going to uni.”

A grin tugs on Taehyung’s lips. It is a little bit funny, that’s true. He likes to think that perhaps one day he might still get to it, take a few classes here and there and broaden his behind the scenes knowledge. But every time he comes close, every time the payoff of being a social media presence is barely enough to cover his rent, he’s reminded that he’ll never be that type of guy. 

He just loves the spotlight too much, and the spotlight loves him.

It’s something he’s felt guilty about for a long time. Every time he’s had to cut ties with an old friend because he was too busy. Every time he had to apologise to his mother for forgetting to call. Every time people have belittled him, made fun of him, called him annoying. 

Every time someone told him he just isn’t good enough.

Why try?

Because. Because he knows better. Because this is who he is, and there’s no reason why he should feel sorry for that.

It’s not about fame or money or even success. It’s about having a dream and expressing himself. It’s about being himself.

Of course he wants to make it. That’s ambition. It’s the same as an author wanting to be read, an actor wanting to be watched, a singer wanting to be heard.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp pang of pain zipping up his leg. He flinches and jerks upright in his seat, eyes snapping towards Jeongguk.

“Ouch! What the hell?”

“Sorry,” Jeongguk mumbles. He doesn’t sound like he means it at all. Under the table, Taehyung feels him pulling his leg back. “I got worried. I don’t think your mouth has stayed shut for that long ever since we met.”

“I take it you’re paying special attention to my mouth, then.”

As if on cue, Jeongguk’s eyes drop down his face. And then, as Taehyung licks and bites his lips, he closes them for the time it takes him to take a deep breath, teeth pressed together, nostrils flaring.

Taehyung smirks. He knows what a guilty man looks like.

It looks like Jeongguk is gearing up for a rather explosive kind of comeback – one Taehyung honestly can’t wait to hear – but it’s that moment the waiter chooses to make a grand reappearance, showing up practically out of nowhere and making a fuss out of placing plates in front of them.

Waiting until they're alone again, Taehyung sceptically eyes what’s on the table before him. First of all, the plate is huge, way too big for the food served on it. It has a ridiculously wide edge and the white porcelain is streaked with specks of gold that gleam in the light. Towards the middle, it dips, and nestled there lies what to Taehyung looks like smoked salmon on a tiny bed of asparagus.

He looks back up. “That’s it?”

“Ow,” Jeongguk says, fork and knife in hand. The cutlery is the same white-gold as the plate. “I’m guessing I failed your food evaluation.”

“Unless you tell me we’re getting one of those huge chocolate fountains delivered to our table for dessert.”

“No.”

“Well, then, yeah, you failed big time.”

Jeongguk chuckles lowly and despite the trace of annoyance still clouding his every move, it seems genuine. Like he can’t quite help it.

It’s… really cute.

His face looks almost shy when he does it, because his chin pulls a little towards his chest, and his eyes are cast downward, as if looking another way makes him invisible for a little while. It’s such a stark contrast, that face and that smile and those round, innocent eyes with their little crinkles next to them, to the confident and sophisticated outfit, it makes Taehyung’s head feel like it’s swimming.

Before he knows any better, he has a fork full of salmon and asparagus in his mouth. “We’re stopping by McDonalds after this.”

Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow at him over his own fork hovering in front of his mouth. He has nice lips. They look very soft. “Given the fact that I’m taking you home, no, we won’t.”

Remembering at least the most basic of manners, Taehyung swallows before he speaks next. He needs to stall time anyway, the false implication behind I’m taking you home making it hard to speak. “And what makes you think you get to decide this?”

“We’re taking my car,” Jeongguk says. He still hasn’t taken a bite all while Taehyung is on his way to finishing this pea-sized portion by swallowing two times max.

“What if I’m driving.”

Another one of those little scoffs. They sound caught between annoyance and amusement, and they make Taehyung feel a little unsteady in his seat the more often they happen. “You won’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s my fucking car, how about that?”

Riling someone up has never been this much fun. Taehyung sticks his bottom lip out, privately notices how Jeongguk’s gaze immediately drops. “You’re not very good at sharing, are you? If I didn’t know better I’d say you're an only child, but I guess you’re just the spoiled younger brat.”

Jeongguk is extremely bad at keeping a poker face. It’s like Taehyung can watch the words filter in, can gauge the reaction before it happens. 

“Oh my God, could you just stop?”

There it is. It’s satisfying to know he’s better at holding on to his cool composure. Blinking at Jeongguk as if he has no idea what he means, he asks, “Stop what?”

“Driving me up a fucking wall not even an hour into this act.”

A grin tugs at the corners of Taehyung’s mouth. Allowing his lips to stretch into a smirk, he leans back in his chair and taps the tines of his fork against them. “But then where would be the fun in this?”

Jeongguk holds eye contact for longer than Taehyung thought he would, and it’s intense and burning and exhilarating and too much. 

Maybe that’s what the people in Taehyung’s life meant when they told him not to play with fire. Maybe it’s not about the raging inferno everyone can see from a mile away, maybe it’s about the quiet candle in the middle of the table. One poke at it and it could the tablecloth ablaze, and then your arm – and then your heart.

“Fine,” he sighs, more to save himself than Jeongguk. He uses the fork to pick at the salmon. “Is this what you think of when you hear the words ‘romantic date night?’ Smoked salmon and… water?”

“Just ask it, Taehyung.”

“Did you come here with your ex?”

“God. No.” Jeongguk scoops salmon and a little bit of asparagus onto his fork and brings it to his mouth. “Management chose this place.”

“Okay.” Taehyung tries to mirror the slow way in which Jeongguk eats, but he can’t get himself to eat more asparagus. “Then what's your idea of a romantic date?”

“Is this another test?”

“Maybe.” Taehyung leaves his fork in his mouth for just a little longer than he needs to. “Probably.”

For a moment, Jeongguk looks as if he has to think about whether or not to give a genuine answer. “There are a few places I like to go whenever I’m not on a strict meal plan,” he says finally. “Nothing like this, though. But I also… I like to make food at home.”

“You can cook?”

Jeongguk laughs one of those real laughs again. “I didn’t say that.”

It makes Taehyung grin as well. He takes another sip of his wine to hide it, but his eyes remain stuck on Jeongguk’s face. It’s like there’s more to discover the more he looks.

“My brother is a great chef,” Jeongguk says. “So is my dad. I’m not, but I still like to try sometimes. When it’s with someone.”

Suddenly, it’s a little easier to imagine him as a married man. Taehyung has trouble picturing him in a domestic setting, but the way he’s talking right now illustrates it quite well.

Questions press against the backs of Taehyung’s teeth, but he swallows them down with his next (and last) bite of salmon. For now.

“Better than stopping at a McDonalds drive thru.”

“Wow, you couldn’t keep that one to yourself, hm?” Taehyung asks, schooling his face into his signature aloof expression.

“No, sorry.”

Taehyung shakes his head, and goes to nudge his foot against Jeongguk’s shin again (this time more gently), but to his surprise, the tip of his shoe already catches on Jeongguk’s when he starts moving.

They exchange a quick, awkward look, and then both pull their feet back underneath their respective chairs.

“Is that even something you’re supposed to do?”

Hooking one foot around the ankle of the other, Taehyung frowns. “What?”

“Eat McDonalds.” Jeongguk shrugs. “Or fast food in general.”

Raising his eyebrows, Taehyung puts down his fork. “What, you think I just don’t eat?”

“That’s not what I said,” Jeongguk says, and there it is again, annoyance clinging to the edges of his words. “I just thought… You know how models have those crazy diets.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Now Taehyung is the one who’s scoffing. “And all football players fake their injuries for attention.”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes at him.

“It’s bullshit,” Taehyung says. “Of course it’s different from person to person, but a lot of models actually eat healthily. And I don’t mean that in the ‘only salads and superfoods’ way but in the ‘I eat whatever I want whenever I want it’ way.”

Of course, he’s aware this is not entirely true. He’s been trying to get a foot in the business for half his life at this point, and he’s met his fair share of professionals over the years. Not all of them are healthy. Some are far from it. And sometimes it’s hard to withstand that kind of peer pressure.

But Taehyung’s always managed, somehow.

That being said, he also knows he’s talking with a certain kind of privilege. Despite the growing demand for diversity, most brands and companies these days are still looking for the typical slender, androgynous body type, and Taehyung is lucky that he, at his most natural, fits that image perfectly.

But he means what he says. And if one day his body changes, and he knows it will with age, he’ll love and appreciate it the same as he does now.

“So if I wanna get milkshakes with my lover, I’ll get milkshakes with my lover.”

This time, as Jeongguk blinks once, twice, it feels like he’s really looking at him. His face is clear of any judgement, and his cheeks seem just a little bit rounder when there’s no tension in his jaw.

Taehyung doesn’t even think about averting his gaze. There’s gravity to Jeongguk’s eyes, the soft, artistically dingy light from above breaking in their darkness and showing him a new, tempting universe.

“Well.” Jeongguk lowers his fork and smacks his lips together, startling Taehyung out of his trance. “I sure hope the guy from the video got a little more out of the whole thing than just a milkshake.”

Something inside Taehyung, something that had been, partially subconsciously, building up at rapid speed over the course of their conversation, collapses. The sudden weight of it makes him visibly deflate, shoulders hunching protectively as he sinks deeper into the upholstery of his chair.

Why do Jeongguk’s words pinch right through his skin like that? 

It’s not like the video doesn’t come up in everyday conversation, either at the agency, or Eunchan texting him again and again, or the comments under his latest Instagram post. He’s already decided he isn’t going to let this drag him down – then why does it feel like Jeongguk just kicked him to the ground?

It’s weird hearing him mention the existence of the video like this. It pushes the boundary, as thin a line it might be, between them off kilter, plays the ball dangerously far into Taehyung’s side of the field.

Taehyung isn’t going to let him score a goal.

Operating on autopilot, he squares his shoulders and sits back up straight, reaching for his fork and loading it up with asparagus he has no desire to actually eat.

“Why?” He quirks an eyebrow at Jeongguk. Lets his mouth twitch into the briefest of smirks. “You hoping he’ll stick around so that you get to watch round 2 once it’s uploaded?”

The softness is wiped off Jeongguk’s face in an instant. His jaw ticks.

“I get it.” Taehyung shrugs. He’s quiet for a beat, letting his words sink in. With an exaggerated pout, he adds, “Being single and lonely sucks.”

Satisfaction surges through him upon seeing the way Jeongguk’s face falls, all the tightness leaving his jaw and his eyebrows at once, rendering his expression empty. The feeling has a bitter aftertaste though, so much that Taehyung has to put his fork down again.

“I–“

He can’t bring himself to apologise. The bigger, more prideful part inside of him is telling him that in the end, Jeongguk deserved a blow straight to where it hurts most. He started it, after all.

“Is everything alright over here?” The sudden voice of the waiter makes both of them flinch. “Anything I can do for you?”

Taehyung’s eyes stay on Jeongguk, watching as he snaps back into himself. He schools his expression into something Taehyung can only refer to as stoic professionalism.

“Actually,” he says, voice polite but cold. “Would you mind getting us the bill, please?”

The waiter’s eyebrows shoot up, gaze quickly flicking to Taehyung’s half eaten dish and the rest of wine sitting in his glass. Taehyung feels his stomach drop an inch or two. They’re being obvious.

Except then he suddenly feels a hand closing around his, lifting it off the table. A gentle swipe over the back of it. Lips pressed against his knuckles.

His first instinct is to pull his arm back, to snap at Jeongguk, what the fuck are you doing, but then his somersaulting stomach and the understanding blooming on the waiter’s face get the best of him.

“Yes!” The waiter says, sounding a tad over-enthusiastic. “Yes, of course. Excuse me, it’ll take just a minute.”

Jeongguk throws a mannerly thank you after him as he scurries off, letting go of Taehyung’s hand as if it had spontaneously grown thorns as soon as he’s certain no one is looking their way.

With his newly freed hand, Taehyung sweeps up the glass of wine and downs the remaining sips in one go. Sadly, he isn’t as much of a lightweight as Hoseok, so it’ll take a few more moments of abominable reality until the alcohol truly sets in.

“Good safe,” he mutters, subtly letting Jeongguk know he very nearly got them into the papers for the wrong reasons.

“Just hurry up and finish your food.” Jeongguk stiffly leans back in his chair, pointedly looking anywhere but at Taehyung. “Get this fucking over with.”

Chapter Text

Spotted: South Korea’s Golden Boy Dating Newcomer Model

Who’s Holding Jeon Jeongguk’s Hand? We investigated.

Jeon Jeongguk and Kim Taehyung Spark Dating Rumours After Romantic Dinner

K League 1 Player Jeon Jeongguk Seen Dating Again After Major Heartbreak

Taehyung bites his lip as he scrolls past headline after headline, thumb lingering on some of the articles to load a preview of them. His head is being jostled from left to right with gentle force, quick hands securing rollers in his hair in an attempt to manipulate the curls into becoming a tamer version of the bedhead he’s got going on right now.

He’s sitting in a spacious room in front of one of those horribly cliché Hollywood mirrors, one that has light bulbs all around its edge, and his face looks a little unreal in this unforgiving brightness.

Quickly, he tears his eyes away from his reflection blinking back at him and drops them back onto his phone screen.

The pictures turned out amazing. Jeongguk and he look like they’re legitimately surprised by the wall of photographers waiting for them outside the restaurant, heads ducked and hands partly raised against the flashes of lighting. After Taehyung had blindly nudged the tips of his fingers against Jeongguk’s wrist, their fingers had found each other and tangled together, and Jeongguk had pulled him closer, into his side where the world felt calm and smelled like honeysuckle, arm wrapping protectively around the small of his back as they were nearing the passenger side of his car.

Taehyung swallows, briefly lifting his eyes from his phone to smile at the girl – Nari is her name – fixing his hair and continue the smalltalk she seems to enjoy. He’s lucky he’s social by nature, it doesn’t require a lot of brain activity for him to prevent an awkward silence.

His mind is elsewhere. The moment of Jeongguk opening the door of his car – his expensive, shiny car – for him, the hand around his waist so sure in place, asserting the smallest amount of pressure to guide him inside as the demanding shouts of the photographers become deafening is at the forefront of the rotation.

Staring at one of the pictures following the headline of one of the articles, he still feels the ghost of Jeongguk’s touch, as if it somehow managed to stick around just as much as the flowery scent clinging to Taehyung’s jacket. 

In the photos, the evening is dark around them, ambient light of the elegant restaurant behind them blurry smudges of warm orange and yellow. They're in focus, their lines sharp, a stark contrast to their surroundings.

With the fingers of both his hands, Taehyung takes a quick screenshot. Smirking to himself, he attaches it to a message and sends it to Jeongguk – the beginning of their text thread.

Taehyung
[one picture attached]
good thing im the model and not you

For a moment, his text along with the picture of Jeongguk’s face, all scrunched up against the flashing cameras, is the only thing glaring back at him from his phone.

Molden Boy
stop harassing me i’m at work

Taehyung
you mean youre kicking a ball and texting?
wow we love a man who can multitask

Molden Boy
as opposed to you who’s lazy lying on the couch or what

Taehyung
excuse me

A swipe of his thumb opens the camera app on his phone. He aims it at the mirror in front of him, holding two of his fingers up in a goofy peace-sign framing his left eye. Nari catches on right away, smiling sweetly as she tilts her head, long, pastel pink hair falling over one shoulder, and throws up a double thumbs-up.

“Boyfriend requires updates,” Taehyung informs her with a small shrug of his shoulders, and it’s comical how much her eyes widen. She must have seen the headlines too.

Jeongguk’s reply to the picture is utterly underwhelming.

Molden Boy
??

Taehyung
no-uh
come on
use your words like a big boy jeon

“Done,” Nari says, tugging at the last strand of loose hair. “I’ll leave those in for the time it takes to do your make-up.”

Taehyung nods at her, but he’s only half listening. He’s aware he’s not on his most professional behaviour, and if he stopped and looked at the situation – the situation being his first major shoot in a long time – he would smack himself on the back of his head.

But he can’t help it. He’s distracted. On the screen of his phone, the three dots are merrily bouncing up and down, up and down.

They disappear.

Reappear.

Molden Boy
what are you shooting?

Taehyung frowns.

Taehyung
ad campaign
with levi’s

The message gets marked as read right away.

“I didn’t know you and Jeon Jeongguk were a thing,” Nari chimes in happily. She places two professional fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up as she applies a sticky sort of moisturiser to his cheeks, hand working in quick, circular motions.

It’s the careful acknowledgment that gets to Taehyung. Nari obviously did her homework, checked social media, and caught up on all the gossip papers this morning. It’s thrilling, realising that in this moment, he’s truly someone, someone people talk about without him knowing, someone they care about albeit in an artificial way, someone who is finally, possibly enough.

“Yeah, it’s still pretty fresh.” He pastes a reliable smile onto his face, but quickly shakes it off when Nari starts brushing concealer over some of the blemishes on his skin. He can see her attentively raised eyebrows, the way she isn’t moving her body too much, probably hoping he’ll give her some more private intel.

And, well, Taehyung isn’t one to disappoint now, is he.

“Wasn’t really supposed to be a big deal yet.” He tilts his head slightly to the side, hoping it passes for bashfulness. Aiming for sympathy always works. “If you know what I’m saying.”

“Oh, right.” The corner’s of Nari’s mouth dip downward in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Taehyung is quick to say, waving his hand through the air. He glances up at the ceiling as concealer is dabbed under his eyes as well. “Thinking about it, I’d honestly rather have it out there. So we don’t have to sneak around or anything. It’s a bit of a relief, in a way.”

Nari hums in agreement. “I can only imagine. It must be difficult as it is. Isn’t he so busy?”

“Yeah, he’s at work right now,” Taehyung says, wiggling his phone to underline his words. The screen lights up. No new message. Another fake smile stretches his lips. “But, you know. He always makes time.”

“Sweet.”

“That he is,” he lies.

“I saw he’s in the line up for next year’s World Cup as well. That’s exciting!”

Taehyung tries to mimic her level of excitement, eyes sparkling and grin wide and proud – even though this is precisely the first time he’s hearing about this. He has no real idea what it even means other than Jeongguk being an even better football player than he’d initially thought.

The make-up is natural, doing nothing other than sitting on Taehyung’s skin like a thin layer that blurs out any imperfections. His eyebrows stay as they are for the most part, the only thing Nari does to them is brush some sort of clear gel into them to make them stay perfectly in place.

“So, how did you guys meet then?” She asks after half a minute of silence. Her gaze is fixed on the two of them in the mirror as she holds up two different shades of blush next to Taehyung’s face, mouth curled to the side in indecisiveness.

Taehyung glances at his phone. This relationship has been an official thing for not even one day, and he’s already getting the silent treatment.

“Um,” he makes, turning the device over in his hand. Frantically, he cycles back to the contract Jeongguk and he both signed a week prior, trying to recall if they decided on an origin story or not. In the end, he settles on, “We’ve actually gone to the same high school, but hadn’t seen each other for a decade. And then recently we got reintroduced by mutual friends.”

Better to stay as close to the truth as possible. Spin the cobweb of lies in lines that are mostly straight, hoping he won’t stumble and get tangled up in them in the future.

“Oh, what a coincidence!” Nari settles on the warmer toned shade and turns toward him, bending down a little to apply the product to his cheeks. It smells like peaches.

A heavy metal door to their right opens with a thud that echoes dully. Another woman throws a quick glance their way before ducking right back out of the room. The sound of the busy voices swelling up is cut off right away by the door falling shut.

“Yup!” Taehyung laughs, resuming the conversation, and it sounds horribly over the top to his own ears. If he hadn’t spent half of the previous night vowing to himself not to be nervous about an entire team of important people expecting nothing but the best from him, he’d be terrified right now. “Definitely had a lot of catching up to do.”

His stomach swoops wildly. In returning the blissfully naive smile Nari gives him, he hopes to disguise the bitter reality – that he still has nothing more than a vague idea of what Jeongguk has been up to since high school. At some point, he’d started playing football professionally, and at another, he got married, the rest is a mystery to Taehyung.

As Nari gets back to work on his hair, the conversation drifts towards less intimate topics, although Taehyung can tell a lot of questions are at the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked. He’s glad when she doesn’t.

Taehyung
i get it i dont get a picture in return 🙄
youre boring

Taehyung watches as the rollers get pulled out of his hair, leaving it in a state of slightly less unruly disarray. Nari’s fingers massage his skull as she tugs every last strand into place and secures it with sweetly smelling hairspray.

Molden Boy
what picture

It takes a lot of mental effort and tireless self control for Taehyung not to roll his eyes.

Taehyung
of what youre doing

Molden Boy
i told you i’m at work

Taehyung
and yet you have time to text your beautiful better half all the time 🥰

There’s no time for distraction by looking at the prettier, more polished version of himself in the mirror. Almost instantly, a picture appears in his and Jeongguk’s text thread, and Taehyung is infinitely glad Nari is busy cleaning the make-up brushes at the nearest sink.

The angle is a little weird, as if Jeongguk had put in a negative amount of effort, simply snapping the picture from the same height he was holding the device to text Taehyung. His face is only partially in frame, but what is visible looks oddly shiny, a few strands of damp, black hair falling into his eyes, beads of sweat disappearing between his collarbones and into the neckline of his grey t-shirt. 

The biggest chunk of the picture is occupied by an outstretched, tattooed middle finger.

And Taehyung can’t stop staring. Worse, he taps on the picture and zooms in, first on the finger and then on what is visible of Jeongguk’s face. He looks hot, in more than one sense of the word.

Taehyung
that doesnt look like work 🤨

Molden Boy
trust me you count as such

A part of Taehyung, one that sits somewhere low in his belly, feels oddly accomplished by that. Subconsciously, he bites his lip. Stops when his eyes catch on his own reflection. The colour in his cheeks is definitely not just make-up.

Taehyung
ill take that as a compliment ❤️

Molden Boy
suck my dick ❤️

Taehyung
you wish ❤️

***

With his hair and make-up done, Taehyung gets shown around the set. The location is big, a loft with massive, top-to-bottom windows taking over the entire south-facing front. The light falling in gets filtered through the intricate mosaic designs of each unique glass block, casting a soft merge of colours and shapes all over the place.

Wooden beams cut through the space here and there, a rustical contrast to the urban metal framing around the windows. The furniture is minimal, mostly light wood-made items that look purposely and artfully used, a sort of vintage chic.

The main focus point is on a bed placed at an odd angle in front of the window wall. Its frame is made out of a different wood than the other furniture, and its sheets look like soft cotton.

Taehyung throws one look at it and feels the irony tickling up the inside of his throat. He doesn’t laugh, though, instead shakes hands with the photographer and videographer, who immediately start telling him their vision. It all comes together pretty quickly in Taehyung’s head, and they must see it, because the tone of their voices becomes more and more enthusiastic the more he nods along dutifully.

He’s sent off to another room to change into the clothes Levi’s picked out for him: a light-washed pair of classic 501s and a slightly cropped white tee. The jeans fit perfectly, of course, clinging to his body in exactly the right places and giving him some room in others. He does a half spin on the spot, pushing up onto his tip toes as he looks at his back in the mirror, hands at his sides, pulling the shirt a little more taut on his back.

Pursing his lips, he grabs his phone out of the pocket of his own jeans and snaps a quick picture of himself in the mirror, backside just slightly pushed out. He contemplates sending it to Jeongguk, but ultimately decides he’s not in the mood to be shittalked any more before an important shoot. He’ll just post it to his story in the evening instead.

The shoot goes by quickly and without any major complications. At one point the videographer tells Taehyung to look a little “less sexy, more natural,” and Taehyung begrudgingly pulls his mind away from the photo Jeongguk had sent him earlier and instead tries to think about nothing at all.

Somehow, he convinces the team that he shouldn’t be on the bed the entire time, rather drape his body against the window front, stretched out in a way he knows will make his legs look miles long. The sun falling through the mosaics feels warm on his cheeks, and he tries his best to position himself in a way that might make for an interesting spiel of shadow and light.

During the little breaks, Taehyung sips on an iced berry tea as he looks over the photographer's shoulder, monitoring the shots. It’s always a little surreal to see himself in his element, like a minor alienation of what he’s used to seeing in the mirror every day.

In the end, everyone claps and congratulates each other on a job well done. Taehyung’s heart is somewhere in his throat, adrenaline finally catching up to him when the photographer tells him he’d love to work with him again in the future.

Back in his own clothes and with a giant, gaping hole for a stomach on the taxi ride to his apartment, he scrolls through the notifications on his phone. Unsurprisingly, there is no new message from Jeongguk, but there is one from another man that makes Taehyung’s eyes roll to the back of his head – and not in a good way.

Eunchan
So are you like
Seriously involved with that guy?

Taehyung
what

Eunchan
Are you dating Jeon Jeongguk?

Taehyung leans his head against the backseat window of the Toyota and closes his eyes for a second. His lids burn against his eyeballs. He stifles a yawn.

Taehyung
oh
yup

Eunchan
Wow
You sure get around a lot hm

Staring at the text, Taehyung tries to ignore the sinking feeling somewhere in his gut. It’s not that Eunchan is wrong per se – Taehyung likes to have fun, and rationally he knows there’s nothing wrong with it as long as he’s being safe (which he is, always) – but being on the receiving end of such offhand comments made by someone who has no right to be anywhere in his business isn’t a particularly nice feeling.

Eunchan
Was this already going on when we were a thing?

Now that manages to pull Taehyung right back out of his mood.

Taehyung
we were never ‘a thing’ chan
we had a good time
thats it

Eunchan
A few good times, you mean

Taehyung
i guess so

The three dots bob up and down persistently. Suppressing a groan, Taehyung swipes out of the messaging app and into Instagram instead. He posted the picture of himself in the mirror first thing after the shoot, tagging the brand in one corner. The views on his story have skyrocketed ever since people got suspicious after he uploaded that video of Jeongguk scoring a goal.

He refreshes his timeline. A new story pops up front, and Taehyung frowns when he doesn’t immediately recognise the profile picture and has to read the username instead.

Speaking of the devil.

@jeonjeongguk 

He doesn’t think twice about the light green colour around the circle before he taps his finger down on it.

Swallowing, his head drops back against the headrest of the seat. With his thumb, he holds the picture in place, but it takes him one, two deep breaths before he can look at it again.

Jeongguk is leaning sideways against the wall of what Taehyung presumes must be his bathroom. It’s all expensive, dark marble tiles and moody lighting, a walk-in shower in the background, the mirror showing his reflection a wide, modern shape. He’s cradling a grey t-shirt, the one Taehyung had seen in the picture sent to him earlier, to his chest. It obscures most of his torso, but does little to disguise the toned shoulders, the collar bones, and lines of defined muscle cut off by the pair of basketball shorts sitting low on his hips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Taehyung breathes, letting the story run out before immediately swiping back and replaying it.

“Everything alright back there?” the driver asks, voice chirpy.

“Peachy,” Taehyung says, eyes glued to his phone. He doesn’t have it in him right now to have a conversation.

Jeongguk’s mouth is pouting the tiniest bit, and it’s driving him insane. His hair is falling into his hooded eyes in damp strands, and his hand holding the phone half in front of his face…

Taehyung greedily loses himself in staring at his tattooed arm.

Eunchan
Is that really all this ever was to you?
Just a good time?

“Oh my God.” Taehyung rolls his eyes.

The more he talks to Eunchan, the more he has trouble understanding how he ever put up with him. It’s not like they had been in a committed relationship, Taehyung has never given off the impression he’s looking for anything other than a one (or two, or three) night stand, and it had seemed as if Eunchan had been on the same page.

He had been, Taehyung suspected, until now, until Taehyung isn’t his to have whenever he feels like it.

Taehyung loathes feeling like some trophy for someone to hold under their claim. A relationship isn’t what he’s looking for, had never been, and he’s been making it clear every time. He doesn’t care much about what the men he gets involved with think of him, he knows they secretly get off to the thought of getting him a little used, a little dirty and shameless.

He’s smart enough to understand it says more about the men calling him names and then proceeding to pursue him than it does about him. It may be a little fucked up, but it creates a kind of distance, an imbalance of power in Taehyung’s favour, though he is the only one who realises it.

Taehyung
tbh the more you keep talking the more
it was a moderate time at best

Eunchan
You know
There’s video proof of that being a lie

Taehyung stares at the screen with wide eyes for so long, they start feeling all dry and he has to blink quickly a few times. What a foul card to play.

Eunchan
Speaking of that video
You better get that fucking sorted out.

Shaking his head to himself, Taehyung swipes his way out of the conversation. A few quick taps later and Eunchan’s contact is blocked. Just for tonight, Taehyung wants to be granted twelve peaceful hours free of someone crying after his ass.

There’s a swoop in his stomach when he opens Instagram again. They’re still ways away from his apartment, so he has enough time to pull up Jeongguk’s account (for the first time ever), and ogle his story again.

Except.

It’s gone.

Taehyung frowns. Refreshes his profile. Again. Again.

Nothing. There’s no ring of any colour around Jeongguk’s profile picture.

He hadn’t imagined that picture, had he?

Glancing up at the roof of the car, Taehyung wonders if he’s slowly going mad. Whatever Jeongguk is doing to his brain, it’s not very healthy.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from diving head first into his posts.

Granted, there aren’t many of them. The last one was posted more than a year ago, showing him sitting on a beach in what Taehyung recognises to be their hometown as the sun sets. He’s alone, knees pulled up to his chest and head ducked low. There’s no caption.

Taehyung scrolls towards an even older post, a snapshot of Seokjin holding a small, white dog in his lap and directing an exaggerated pout at the camera. Written beneath the photo is: cuteness overload. and jin.

There’s a picture of the sky, all soft pastel colours from the rising sun. A black and white shot of his football team hugging in victory. One of Jeongguk carrying the ball wedged between his arm and his side, wearing a red Seoul Tigers jersey, the grin on his face wide and genuine.

The very first post on his profile looks like the happiest of them all. In it, Jeongguk is a little younger, and he’s sitting cross-legged on what seems to be a small, cerulean boat somewhere tropical. There’s a white beach in the background dotted with palm trees. One of his hands is raised against the sun, and his skin looks a little more tan and his hair is wet and he’s laughing so much, Taehyung can almost hear the sound through the picture.

The caption reads: paradise with you.

Taehyung’s eyes follow the words a couple of times from beginning to end. It doesn’t take rocket science to put two and two together and figure out the photo must have been taken on Jeongguk’s honeymoon.

Closing social media, he pulls up the article about them leaving the restaurant instead.

K League 1 Player Jeon Jeongguk Seen Dating Again After Major Heartbreak

Taehyung gnaws on his bottom lip, contemplating whether this is a good idea or not.

In the end, his curiosity gets the best of him.

Yesterday evening, Seoul Tigers’ Left Winger Jeon Jeongguk was spotted leaving the city’s top fine dining hotspot La Yeon being all cuddly with another man. 

It’s the first time South Korea’s Golden Boy has been seen dating since the shocking announcement of his divorce from long term spouse Park Aerin this Spring. Reportedly, the couple split up in February of last year after much back and forth, resulting in Jeongguk taking a break from football as well as any public appearances for most of 2021.

Now, it seems like apart from a glorious comeback on the field, Jeongguk is also ready to open his heart again. But who is the lucky guy that gets to be all cosy with the nation’s hottie? Find out HERE by subscribing to our daily news flash!

Disappointed, Taehyung taps out of his internet browser.  For a moment, he toys with the idea of digging for every single speck of information known to the world wide web about Jeongguk’s divorce – but then the car rolls to a stop and he has to focus on paying the driver.

In his apartment, he places an order for pizza before leaving his phone in the living room and making a beeline for the shower. Under the hot spray of water, he tries his best to keep his thoughts occupied with trivial things so that they don’t wander to that picture of Jeongguk.

It doesn’t work. Of course not.

***

Friday starts with a yoga class at the ungodly hour of 8 AM and a smoothie of freshly blended superfoods that contains so much ginger it threatens to burn a hole through Taehyung’s throat.

Late as usual, he sprints towards the elevator leading up to his agency’s floor of the building, plastic cup still half full of devil juice in his hand. Kicking his feet out, he stops the doors from sliding close right in front of his nose. His shoe (read: slipper) goes flying off his foot, very nearly missing the person standing inside.

“Sorry,” Taehyung pants, hopping into the elevator. Then, at once, he stops. One leg bent at the knee and raised halfway in the air. He blinks. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Jeongguk is wearing a tracksuit, one of those that Taehyung doubts people actually do sports in, and he’s regarding Taehyung with a look that speaks of anything but happiness to see him. A designer shoe (Balenciaga, two coloured) nudges his slipper back in his direction.

The elevator doors close.

Gaping at Jeongguk, Taehyung feels weirdly guilty. He hasn’t forgotten about that picture yesterday, although at this point, he’s convinced his tired brain made the whole thing up.

Which is not good. Not good at all.

“So?”

Jeongguk gives him an irritated lift of his eyebrows. “Your people called for a meeting.”

As he slides his foot back into his slipper, Taehyung frantically tries to remember if his google calendar (which is entirely run by Jimin) featured any form of Jeongguk’s name for today. He’s not a very organised person. Luckily, at least, he’s quite quick-witted to make up for that. “And you can handle that all by yourself? Without the entire entourage?”

The expression on Jeongguk’s face changes only slightly, a nuance of confusion to the annoyance.

“Sorry.” Taehyung shrugs. “You just seem stuck at fifteen to me most of the time, so I was surprised you're actually capable of handling things on your own like an adult.”

The tick in Jeongguk's jaw is enough of a tell for Taehyung to know he’s ready to turn this fun (to Taehyung, at least) exchange into an argument, but the elevator doors glide open with a bright ding before he can – revealing Seokjin and Namjoon, both clad in work clothes and throwing hurried looks at the expensive watches adorning their wrists.

Taehyung very nearly raises his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud, but decides to bite down on the straw of his drink instead. Still, even with his head lowered, he’s sure Jeongguk catches the happily pleased grin stretching his lips.

With enough pep in his step to piss his alleged boyfriend off a little more, Taehyung takes off first, raising his disgusting drink at Seokjin and Namjoon before spinning into one of the offices.

Seeing Hoseok and Jimin sit on the oval shaped table in the middle of the room instantly makes him feel underdressed. They’re both wearing some version of business casual, Jimin a little more elegant with a few pieces of jewellery and Hoseok decked in fashionable neutrals that look just enough like work clothes without appearing uncomfortable. Despite their agency being small and revolving pretty much only around Taehyung, technically, there is a dress code.

A dress code Taehyung regularly decides is nothing but a well-intended suggestion. The problem isn’t that he doesn’t like wearing suits, the problem is that he doesn’t like to wear them when he’s supposed to wear them.

“Hi,” he says, interrupting their quiet chatter. “What’s up?”

Hoseok returns his greeting with a wide, toothy smile that naturally reaches all the way up to his eyes. There’s this air of professionalism surrounding him, one that tells Taehyung he went to bed at a reasonable time, had a healthy breakfast, and already worked through all his pending emails. In truth, his friend is too big for this job, he could easily run a company twice the size of theirs.

Jimin perks up as well, giving Taehyung’s careless attire of straight-cut jeans and a loose tee a critical once over before asking, “Where’s your lover, young man?”

At the lack of a proper good morning, Taehyung huffs out a dry syllable of a laugh. “Excuse me. Where is your lover, huh?”

Immediately, Jimin lets his head fall slightly to the side, his narrowed eyes speaking for themselves: Are you serious? “I don’t have a–”

A swoosh of air ruffles the hair at the back of Taehyung’s neck as the glass door behind him is being pushed open with force. It almost hits him in the back. In walks a very down to business looking Min Yoongi, blazer flapping around his sides and the top buttons of his black dress shirt undone.

Jimin blushes.

Today is great, Taehyung is a big fan of today. Internally cackling, he purses his lips and throws Jimin a knowing look. It’s not like he actually suspects there is anything going on between the two of them – Jimin has declared himself single by choice more than enough times over the years they’ve known each other – but it’s fun to rile him up a little.

“Here’s his schedule for the rest of the month.” Yoongi pulls a singular sheet of paper free from a folder and slides it over the table so Jimin and Hoseok can have a look at it. 

Taehyung momentarily pouts at the complete ignorance Yoongi regards him with, but he’s soon too busy wondering if every teammate gets a printed out schedule sheet or if Jeongguk really is the teacher’s pet.

“Is this… Is this colour-coordinated?” Jimin swallows once before blinking up at the still standing Yoongi.

“Yeah.” Yoongi leans halfway over the back of his chair – Taehyung almost bursts into laughter at the panicked expression on Jimin’s face – and places a hand flat next to the paper. “Blue is for team training sessions, green is individual workouts, purple is for meetings of any kind – here you can see is the one for right now – and yellow is for matches. Orange would be for flights he has to catch, but there are no away games in the next ten days.”

“Okay.” Jimin doesn’t protest when Hoseok’s fingers tap on the paper and slide it closer, squinting at the bright highlights behind the words.

“The workouts are mostly fixed, but obviously the other stuff varies.”

Taehyung watches as Jimin nods quickly, laughter pressing against the backs of his teeth. His friend isn’t comprehending a word he’s being told, he can tell.

Yet again, the door behind Taehyung is being pushed open. This time, the missing three men to their merry group of seven business partners stride in, and Taehyung finally registers, as he breathes in a wave of honeysuckle-scented air, that he is definitely standing in everyone’s way, so he sinks down onto one of the free chairs. His hand remains clasped around his stupid drink, for whatever reason. It’s pleasantly cool to the touch.

Which is good. Because Jeongguk looks too damn hot in that tracksuit.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” Seokjin chooses the seat to Taehyung’s right, leaving Namjoon and Jeongguk to walk around the table.

In order not to stare, Taehyung keeps his eyes firmly on the table top. He doesn’t even blink, afraid closing his eyes even just for a fraction of a second will reset the built up willpower of his brain to zero.

“I assume everyone has seen the headlines,” Hoseok says. He waits until everyone has nodded before adding, “So it’s safe to say it worked out. So far, so good.”

“Mostly,” Namjoon says, and Taehyung, unable to stop himself, blinks up to watch him clap a hand against Jeongguk’s shoulder. They must be closer than coach and player usually are.

There’s movement in Jeongguk’s jaw. He’s biting the insides of his cheeks, hands half disappearing into the sleeves of his tracksuit’s jacket. Looking at him, Taehyung’s mind rushes back to the articles. Sure, the papers are talking about him and Jeongguk, but they still bring up his previous relationship alongside the breaking news.

“The purpose of this meeting is supposed to be a discussion about what our next move should be,” Hoseok goes on.

“The public is clearly intrigued,” Jimin chimes in matter-of-factly, as if anyone in the room (minus Jeongguk and Taehyung) still need convincing to follow through on the plan.

“We were thinking Jeongguk could give an official statement the next time he’s asked about it in an interview. And there should be an official post on social media, preferably Twitter or Instagram,” Yoongi says.

Jeongguk looks like he would rather die than admit he’s in a committed relationship with Taehyung, which, quite frankly, annoys Taehyung a tiny bit.

“Official statement is good, official Instagram post is cringe.” Jimin boldly turns his head to look at Yoongi.

Eyebrows drawing together in confusion, Yoongi sends a frown his way.

“Uh.” Jimin’s eyes quickly snap towards Taehyung as if he’s in a position to help him out here. “Not good. Awkward.”

“I know what cringe means,” Yoongi says dryly. “I’m in my late twenties, not fifties.”

“Our dad’s in his fifties and he definitely knows what cringe means,” Seokjin says – and Taehyung is glad he’s been unable to look anywhere but Jeongguk’s face for the past minute or so, because he catches it. For the second time since he’s met him. That genuine grin, albeit short lived.

“Definitely,” Jeongguk echoes, exchanging a quick look with Seokjin.

Next to Taehyung, Seokjin relaxes back into his seat. The movement is miniature, but Taehyung notices it, the clear relief Seokjin feels upon earning a real smile from his younger brother.

“No official Instagram post,” Jimin states clearly. “But they should start posting like they are seeing each other. You know, the usual couple stuff.”

Thinking about holding Jeongguk’s hand again, be it for show or not, sends an excited tingle up Taehyung’s spine. He needs to get a grip on himself. Badly.

“Isn’t it enough if we just attend a few events together?” Bitterly, Taehyung notices Jeongguk hasn’t looked his way once since they got out of the elevator. “Or if he comes to my games or whatever.”

“If you think that’s enough then you can just go ahead and tell the press you’re faking it.”

Hoseok’s head whips around, his eyes shooting clear warnings in Jimin’s direction. Quickly, Jimin clamps his mouth shut, but he doesn’t look as if he wants to take back any of the words he’s said.

“I think you’re right.” Seokjin’s voice sounds a bit hesitant when he speaks up, and the utterly betrayed dagger of a glare his brother throws at him as an instant reaction makes him sigh. “Look, it’ll only be a few months, and then you two can have the calmest, most civil, mutually agreed on break-up in the history of break-ups, and then, hopefully, those vultures will have found another scandal to feast on. But you gotta be believable until then.”

It feels like something a little too intimate to say in a room full of strangers, and the way Jeongguk falls back against the backrest of his chair, shoulders sinking with a defeated exhale, tells Taehyung this isn’t the first time Seokjin has tried to diffuse the situation.

Opening his mouth before he’s even sure what it is he wants to say, Taehyung reels for a moment, trying to find the beginning of the complicated whirlwind of thoughts spinning inside his head. “Maybe,” he says and remains quiet for the second it takes to get everyone’s eyes on him. “Maybe we could take a couple days off and compile a bunch of photos.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes at him across the table – and okay, maybe Taehyung gets why Jimin turns into a blushy mess when he’s on the receiving end of such a look.

“I mean,” he goes on, the words stumbling out of his mouth. It takes all the willpower he can muster up at the moment not to look in Jeongguk’s direction. He can’t explain why, but he hates seeing that specific mixture of dread and sadness etched into every line of his face. “We could take a bunch of different couple pictures. Like, a lot of them. That way, we’d have something to post without actually having to see each other every other day.”

“You want a couple photoshoot?” Namjoon puts his chin in the palm of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Taehyung in interest. A few seats over, Hoseok and Jimin look equally as intrigued.

“Multiple photoshoots,” Taehyung clarifies. “The pictures can’t all look the same. But also, let’s not call it a photoshoot. It’s supposed to look natural.”

Jimin snaps his fingers and points in his direction, signalling he got what Taehyung is going for and is fully on board. “That could work.”

Pushing up into a more upright position in his seat, Jeongguk says, “You want me to look as if I enjoy being around you for an entire day so that I don’t have to pretend a couple times a week?”

The tone of his voice makes Taehyung want to grind his teeth together. “You could just admit it’s a great idea.”

“Oh, yeah, no, don’t get me wrong.” Jeongguk waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Not having to see your face more often than necessary? I’m a big fan of that.”

“Makes two of us.”

They’re staring right into each other’s eyes, and Taehyung feels simultaneously hot and cold, rooted to his seat and approximately half a second away from flinging himself over the table. It’s a heady feeling, fun in the most twisted sense of the word.

To his right, Seokjin moves in his seat, his hand coming up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“As much as this is a very schedule-friendly suggestion for you as well as for Jeongguk,” Hoseok says. “I think it will be hard to find a weekend where all of us have time to monitor several photoshoots.”

“There’s no need for that,” Taehyung says quickly. “I’m sure Jeon and I can figure it out by ourselves.”

“Something tells me you two would kill each other if left unsupervised for too long,” Yoongi throws in, the left corner of his mouth twitching in traitorous amusement.

Taehyung hums in consideration. It’s not like that isn’t a legitimate possibility. “That would be another way to solve the problem at hand, I guess.”

“You know what, Taehyung?” Namjoon speaks up. Chin still balanced in his hand, he starts nodding. “I don’t hate your way of thinking.”

“Let me guess,” Taehyung replies immediately. “As long as I’m the one to die?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods. There’s a hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. “Sorry. I kind of need Jeongguk on my team.”

Taehyung doesn’t get a chance for a playful comeback, because Hoseok is clearly in need to organise the ideas. “Where would you guys want to take those pictures? Do you just want to spend an entire day holed up in either one of your apartments?”

“No,” Jeongguk blurts immediately at the same time as Taehyung is vehemently shaking his head. As compelling as he finds the suggestion of being introduced to Jeongguk’s place (although keeping the current picture Taehyung has of him at this point in mind, it probably consists of white walls and the most basic furniture imaginable), he’s not as enthralled by the thought of Jeongguk being in his own space, making it impossible for him to leave should he feel the urge to.

At the same time, as if they are two entities controlled by the same part of the brain in charge of bodily responses, Hoseok and Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What about a hotel?” Jimin suggests. “Some place remote. You can take some generic photos that don’t really show where you are that you can use later. But you can also treat this as some sort of romantic getaway you can push on social media.”

Ignoring the way his stomach performs a whole gymnastics routine somewhere next to his heart, Taehyung waits for the other’s to react first. Around him, Yoongi starts nodding, as does Hoseok. Seokjin hums in considerate agreement, one eye always on his little brother. Namjoon purses his lips and weighs his head from left to right.

To Taehyung’s – and possibly everyone’s – surprise, Jeongguk shrugs.

There’s a silence so loud, the room might as well be filled with screams.

“Okay,” Hoseok says tentatively, looking from Jeongguk to the rest of his team.

It seems as if Jeongguk is set on hypnotising the table again, just like the first time they had to sit down together to negotiate the details of their contract. Although, and Taehyung isn’t really sure if it’s a trick of the light or if his eyes are deceiving him, he doesn’t look as detached from the whole thing. His teeth are clearly pressed together, emphasising the sharp cut of his jaw, but there’s a suspicious redness colouring his ears and the side of his neck.

Yoongi slaps the table with the palm of his hand, startling everyone into paying attention again. “Fine. Jeongguk has next Tuesday and part of Wednesday off. Book a hotel. We’ll split the cost.”

Challenged by the assertiveness, Jimin perks up and slams his hand down as well. “Taehyung has a couple fittings for future jobs coming up next week, so we’ll be comparing their schedules first, thank you very much. We’ll let you know once we’ve settled on a date.”

The smoothie really wasn’t a good idea, what with all the somersaults Taehyung’s stomach is doing this morning. He doesn’t really hear the second part of Jimin’ sentence, too taken aback by the possibility of jobs, plural.

The corners of Jimin’s mouth twitch when he feels Taehyung gape at him from half across the table. Taehyung’s heart is in his throat. If this was intended to be a surprise then surprise him it did.

There’s a buzz of agreeing murmur swelling up among them, and soon after Namjoon is the first to get up, nudging Jeongguk’s elbow with his own to get him to move. Taehyung feels a pair of eyes permanently glued to the side of his face, but he doesn’t have it in him anymore to pay attention to anything or anyone other than what he is sure Jimin and Hoseok are about to tell him once they’re alone.

One after the other, the men not related to their agency file out of the office with polite goodbyes or, in Jeongguk’s case, childish silence. Taehyung doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t have time to care.

The door closes firmly behind Seokjin. Footsteps move over the carpet outside. Four men disappear in the direction of the elevator.

Taehyung turns his head. Stares. Waits.

A minute of the most giddily charged quiet he’s ever experienced, and then Hoseok is the first to break, erupting into lighthearted laughter and clapping his hands at Taehyung’s tensed face. Jimin is grinning as well, his eyes almost closing all the way in delight.

“What the fuck,” Taehyung whines. “Stop it! You can’t just drop a bomb like that out of nowhere and then not elaborate! This is torture!”

“In our defence, we wanted to tell you before the meeting started, but you’re always late, Tae,” Jimin says.

“I was perfectly on time!”

“We asked you to be here at nine and you came in at nine thirty-six.”

Shutting his mouth, Taehyung ducks his head guiltily. Usually, he doesn’t have a set time at which he has to be at the agency – that’s practically impossible with the way his job works – but aside from that, punctuality definitely isn’t his strong suit and he knows it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Jimin dismisses quickly, clearly not in the mood to string Taehyung out any longer. “Really, I should’ve just told you to be here at eight and you would’ve been punctual.”

“Can you stop being passive aggressive now and just tell me what I’m doing next week?” Pasting the best pout he’s got onto his face, Taehyung blinks at Jimin pleadingly.

“Oh my God, stop, that doesn’t work on me. Fine. Levi’s sent an email and I am pretty convinced they are actually in love with you. They want you to be the face of their fall campaign.”

“Like… just me?”

“Yup,” Jimin grins. “Just you and your ass that looks good in their jeans.”

“Please tell me they wrote that in their email.”

“Not with those exact words, no,” Hoseok says. “But essentially, the message is the same.”

It’s like Taehyung could float out the cracked open window at the far end of the room, that’s how light he feels. Pure adrenaline is pumping through his veins, rushing in his ears. It’s impossible to put the hope he feels into coherent thoughts that aren’t just voiceless prayers sent out to no deity in particular.

“I have like five more emails from photographers who’d like to shoot with you.”

“You’re messing with me.” Taehyung shakes his slides off his feet and pulls his feet onto the chair with him, hugging his knees to his chest just to hold onto something.

The little nagging voice of doubt is doing its best to work against the excitement taking over him, but the expression of pure optimism on Jimin’s face magically manages to keep it at bay.

“I’m not,” he says. 

Taehyung lets his forehead fall against his knees to hide the happy grin splitting his face. He wiggles his toes, digs his fingers into his calves, tries not to shake.

“Will you faint if I tell you CELINE put out a call for a casting for their fashion week line up next year?”

At once, Taehyung holds himself very still. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Jimin says. “Then I won’t tell you. But I sure hope you haven’t forgotten how to walk a runway.”

When Taehyung glances up the next time, his vision is oddly blurry, as if he might actually start crying from the shock of it all. He sees Hoseok’s eyes fixed on him, waiting for his reaction while every fibre of his being is exuding the same joy that is making Jimin’s face shine this brightly.

“You guys are shitting me,” he says, because this simply can’t be his life right now. Yesterday, he went to bed a nobody who’s only managed to stay relevant longer than twenty-four hours because his sex tape leaked, and today he woke up to luxury brands seriously considering him to model their clothes.

It’s not real. It can’t be.

“You got a lot of attention on social media,” Hoseok says. “And your story hinting at the relationship with Jeongguk blew up, and then you posted that you were working with Levi’s, and now everyone wants a piece of the cake.”

“But–” Taehyung shakes his head. He can’t wrap his mind around all of this happening quite literally overnight. He’s so close, so goddamn close to reaching for the star he’s only ever been able to dream of. “Is this… Is all of this because of Jeon?”

Jimin and Hoseok exchange a quick look. They understand where Taehyung is coming from, have worked with him long enough to understand that he knows opportunities are important, that he’ll take on everything life throws at him, but that truly making it in this world is a self made effort.

Finally, Jimin shrugs. “I don’t think it’s all him. He’s certainly good publicity, but the people are starting to talk about you, babe. It’s happening.”

Chapter Text

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With a frustrated sigh, Taehyung jams his finger down on the delete button, erasing one word after the other. It’s been two weeks since the video was posted, and it hasn’t left the top Naver searches since. He doesn’t take the time to check how easy it is to find the full length video once he’s slid past hundreds of gifs of himself in various states of undress.

He doesn’t want to know.

Seoul traffic is noisy around him, the first rush hour of the day slowly coming to a close, leaving only the late risers of the working class to speed down the street on hot wheels, determined to make up for their morning wasted dilly-dallying.

None of the cars coming up look like the one Taehyung is waiting for.

Adjusting the face mask obscuring the bottom half of his face, he squints up at the dusty sky hanging low above the city. It looks like June is going to end in a downpour.

He drags his finger down over the screen of his phone, checking his notifications. There’s a message from Jeongguk saying on my way don’t make me wait sitting at the very top of the list, and it makes Taehyung snort as he looks up and down the busy street, no sign of Jeongguk anywhere.

Flicking the notification away, he focuses back on the search engine staring back at him expectantly.

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He’s about to bite the bullet and give in to his curiosity and tap on the first suggestion when a brief but insistent honk tears through the buzz of traffic. 

Head snapping up, Taehyung tries to locate the source of the noise, his eyes quickly finding Jeongguk, who’s gesturing at him out of a car parked at the shoulder of the road. It’s not the same he drove Taehyung home in after their first date, this one a sleek, black number, its headlights creating a sort of vicious look where they cut through the hazy fine dust fog.

As someone who has never wasted money on getting a licence in a city that offers perfect public transport, Taehyung doesn’t care much for cars, but he can tell that this particular model is made to impress. Not too on the nose to make heads turn in the streets, but enough to get Taehyung to swallow down his nerves.

Manoeuvring his suitcase onto the backseat without severely damaging the car’s flawless paint job proves to be difficult, but Taehyung manages, slamming the door shut with a little more force than strictly necessary.

Jeongguk welcomes him with the same glare Taehyung has come to accept as the natural state of his face by this point. “You know you don’t have to let the entire neighbourhood know you just closed a door, right?”

It’s dim inside the car, the interior dark brown and matte black, the light fixtures along the dashboard and the middle console glow a muted purple, casting an expensive shine over the silver details around the steering wheel. Despite – or maybe because of – the annoyed expression on his face, Jeongguk fits right in, looks just as expensive and polished as the vehicle in his full Balenciaga fit.

As Taehyung takes his mask off and drops it into his lap, he contemplates ignoring the petty comment just because he doesn’t really feel like sacrificing his sanity before he’s even had breakfast, but then decides the only way he’s ever going to let Jeongguk have the last word is over his own dead, rotting corpse. “Thought I’d provide an update on the situation since you made sure to wake everyone up with your stupid honking.”

“Believe it or not, but most people with jobs get up before 9 AM.”

“Well, how would you know?”

Jeongguk’s nostrils flare, and frankly, it takes all of Taehyung’s self control not to laugh straight in his face.

“Oh shit,” he says. “You mean to tell me they pay you for kicking a ball very hard?”

Obviously, Taehyung can see just how well Jeongguk gets paid (not that he hadn’t known before just by giving him a general once over), but witnessing his eyes roll to the back of his head in annoyance has easily taken the top spot of Taehyung’s recent pastime activities.

“Why are we taking the fancy whip today?” he asks, stretching his legs out. There’s an art to making Jeongguk’s blood boil, and Taehyung is determined to master it. He can’t deliver hit after hit, has to leave a little bit of downtime to let him simmer.

Jeongguk throws a quick look over his shoulder before he revs up the engine and merges the car onto one of the lanes. He nods towards the screen nestled into the dashboard. It shows a route mapped out in blue. “The address your agency gave me is a good hour away. This car’s better for driving on a highway.”

Letting out a hum that he hopes passes for some kind of understanding or agreement or general ignorance to the fact that Jeongguk not only owns one car but two, Taehyung lets his eyes wander over the details of the car’s inside. Above him, through the sunroof, he can watch the sky turn more and more grey by the minute.

“Hey, where are you hiding your suitcase by the way?”

“Huh?” Jeongguk makes, easily swerving to a different lane in order to take a left at the next intersection.

“Your suitcase,” Taehyung repeats. He’s turned around almost all the way in his seat, shoulder inches away from bumping into Jeongguk’s arm, as he takes inventory of the backseat area. There’s his own suitcase of course, and a singular black backpack that doesn’t look like it can hold much more than pyjamas. “You need different sets of clothes, Jeon.”

“We’re only staying for a night.”

“God, you’re so dense.” Taehyung falls back into his seat. “You can’t be wearing the same thing in every single picture if you don’t want it to look as if we took all of them on the same day.”

“Is that why you brought your entire closet with you?”

“Duh,” Taehyung says. “Because I understood the assignment.”

The tick in Jeongguk’s jaw is back as he grinds his teeth together, eyes staring straight ahead, and it fills Taehyung with a tingling wave of sweet, sweet satisfaction.

When the traffic light jumps from orange to green, Taehyung feels the seat vibrate beneath him, and the next thing he knows he’s being jostled about as Jeongguk pulls the car around in an abrupt u-turn, quickly speeding off on the neighbouring lane in the direction they had come from. Taehyung’s hand is splayed over the middle console in sudden search of support, and he catches the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth tugging into a smirk when he notices.

Maybe Yoongi was right. One of them isn’t going to survive this overnight stay – and Taehyung is growing increasingly aware of the fact it might be him.

***

Jeongguk leaves him in the car.

No, Jeongguk locks him in the car.

For the first couple of minutes, Taehyung is set on throwing a full blown temper tantrum and potentially smashing in the windows of this stupid sexy car belonging to this stupid sexy man making his brain conjure up stupid sexy thoughts. 

But then, as he’s hanging between the seats to file through the back on a mission to find something that could shatter glass, he gets distracted by Jeongguk’s backpack. One second, it’s sitting there unassumingly and the next, Taehyung has his hands on it. A quick rummage tells him Jeongguk packed sweatpants, a selection of skincare products, and his wallet.

Not even shower gel.

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung pulls the wallet free. It would be funny if Jeongguk returned home tomorrow evening missing his credit card, wouldn’t it?

But as soon as Taehyung flips the leather case open, he freezes. There’s a picture shoved into the small see-through compartment up front that’s meant to hold a driver’s licence or an ID. It’s a polaroid showing two people on a sofa at what, judging by the decorations around them, looks like a New Year’s party. The colours are faded, but their smiles aren’t. The young woman – she looks barely twenty – is grinning at whoever is taking the picture, and Jeongguk, a younger, more round-faced version of him, is looking at her.

He’s looking at her as if there’s no one else in the room.

Taehyung flips the wallet shut and lets it fall back into the depths of Jeongguk’s backpack. Flopping back down on his seat, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, sulking and staring straight ahead out the windshield.

Even the garage they’re parked in looks fancy, no flickering neon lights making the dark flooring and concrete walls look cheap or eerie or as if a serial killer might jump out from behind the next pillar any moment. The spot they’re parked in as well as the ones left and right next to it are marked by bold white letters reading, Seoul Victoria Residence, 6.13A, Jeon.

Taehyung wiggles his feet in the footwell. He leans his back into the seat. Taps his fingers along the middle console. Presses his nose flat against the passenger window. Smacks his lips together and listens to how weird the elicited wet pop sounds.

God, he’s bored. He’s beneath one of the city’s most expensive neighbourhoods and he’s bored out of his mind.

He sighs. Gets out his phone.

A couple days ago, he relieved Eunchan of his fate of sending strings of text into an unresponsive void by unblocking him. Really, what he should do is cut ties with the guy. He’s not even interested, not in the slightest, not anymore.

But the thing is, Taehyung loves attention. He basks in the spotlight, thrives being the focal point, the centrepiece of someone’s inner camera. Along with being the object of desire comes the power of manipulation. He’s long understood how to get what he wants from people just by fluttering his eyelashes prettily, how long he can play hard to get before he has to decide whether to give in or walk away, leaving the other high and dry and scathing with anger.

But it’s a double-edged sword. As soon as the focus shifts and he’s just another spectator in a sea of spectators, insecurity is there to greet him like an old friend, welcoming him back with banners and signs telling him bluntly about all the things he’s lacking that no amount of attention could make up for.

Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to Eunchan. He has no desire to be with him in any way ever again. But it feels good knowing someone wants him, badly, craves for a piece of him, even if it’s just his body.

He doesn’t want to talk to Eunchan, he wants Jeongguk to return.

After he’s tapped around on his phone for a couple more minutes, he leans his head sideways against the window, blinking up. The side mirror shows his pouting reflection, hair curly and fluffy from the way he’s slept on it, the artificial lights falling in from outside drawing shadows across his face and making his eyes seem even bigger.

Upon opening the camera app, he positions his phone at an angle to his face, aiming it at the mirror, making sure to school the sullen look on his face into something more innocent and less bratty. In the picture, he’s sharp in the middle, but in the background, on the wall behind the mirror, a little blurry but still readable, is Jeongguk’s last name, his apartment complex and building number sufficiently cut off.

Without too much thinking about it, he posts it to his Instagram story, no filter, no further description.

The sudden click of the vehicle and the lights around the dashboard and on the roof of the car flickering on makes him jump in his seat. He drops his phone between his thighs, looking up just in time to watch Jeongguk open the door to the back on the driver’s side and dump a black Nike duffle bag on the seat.

“I hope you packed a few different pairs of shoes,” Taehyung comments as Jeongguk lets himself fall onto the driver’s seat. He tries not to get distracted by the way his knees spread, trousers pulling a little tighter around his thighs.

Jeongguk turns his head toward him, and Taehyung sucks a surprised breath of air in through his nose. When have they gotten this close?

“Should have brought a mouth gag to get you to finally shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly, Taehyung’s mouth feels extremely dry. He tries to swallow and almost chokes. Jeongguk’s face looks as stoic as usual, except there’s the tiniest quirk in his eyebrow, an almost invisible trace of a smirk on his lips.

“Damn, Jeon.” Taehyung sends a quick thank you up to the heavens above for the fact that his voice doesn’t betray him just then. “Still waters run deep, hm? Kinky.”

For a moment, Jeongguk holds his gaze, but then he relents, falls back into his seat with a snort and a roll of his eyes. The car quietly hums to life, headlights snapping on and throwing a wave of bright, blueish light against the wall in front of them.

“Hey,” Taehyung says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He can’t get himself to look away from Jeongguk, he’s too close to get that grin, that genuine grin, the one he saw on the polaroid mere minutes ago, out of him again. “The colour’s green. Tell me more about what you’re hiding in your secret BDSM dungeon.”

“You, if you keep getting on my nerves like this.” Jeongguk puts a hand flat to the back of Taehyung’s seat as he looks back over his shoulder, carefully easing the car out of the parking lot.

Curling his fingers into the fabric of the loose dress pants he’s wearing, Taehyung concentrates on keeping himself still, lest he might lean in and press his face into the side of Jeongguk’s neck, inhaling the heady scent of honeysuckle. He has a mole right there, and it’s so close, and – Taehyung tears his eyes away and snaps his head back around.

“No one likes empty promises, you know.” He sees the mouth of his reflection in the side mirror move, but he feels oddly detached from his own body, as if all of his focus is turned outward, hyper aware of the person next to him.

Jeongguk huffs a laugh as he pulls his arm back and steers the car up an incline leading out of the garage. “You talk some more and find out how empty that promise is.”

The overcast day is unbearably bright when they emerge from underground. Taehyung squints, watching Jeongguk raise four fingers off the steering wheel to give a quick acknowledging wave to a security guard positioned in front of the garage. 

Swallowing, he realises he’s at a loss for words. He’s never at a loss for words.

“Can I put music on?” he blurts, because there’s no way he’s going to let Jeongguk know he’s kicked his mind so far into the gutter it might as well be lost forever.

Jeongguk gives a noncommittal noise which Taehyung benevolently interprets as a yes. He busies himself figuring out how to hook up his phone to the bluetooth, finds out it’s not that difficult, and then toys with the idea of putting on the most annoying earworm he can think of just to piss Jeongguk off, but ultimately decides against it.

It’s mercifully quiet except for the melody sounding from the speakers for the time it takes them to leave the city. When Jeongguk sets the blinker and merges onto the highway, the little car on the screen on the dashboard spins around its own axis once before centering itself in the middle of the map.

Taehyung turns his phone over and over in his hand. He feels awfully restless and it has everything to do with the way Jeongguk slouches back in his seat as he pushes his foot down on the gas pedal, zooming past the other cars driving leisurely on the lanes beside them.

Never in his life has he felt so put off and turned on by a person at the same time.

Jeongguk weighs his head from left to right in tune with the beat of the music, and Taehyung subtly turns the volume up a little bit. He hopes he’s not being too obvious with his stares, but he really can’t help himself. There’s something about the way Jeongguk looks when he’s all relaxed and comfortable, and he definitely looks comfortable inside a super fast, super expensive car, speeding down a highway. His left elbow is leaned against the door, his fingers pushing the hair out of his face from time to time. The other hand is half in his lap, holding the steering wheel in a loose grip.

Before Taehyung’s thoughts can wrap the image of Jeongguk’s hands or arms or thighs or face up in a creative narrative that’ll likely leave him with flushed cheeks and a hammering heart, he forces his brain back into work mode.

“Put your hand on my knee.”

Well.

“What?”

Lifting his phone and opening the camera app, Taehyung says, “This trip is about taking romantic pictures, isn’t it? Might as well start right now.”

Jeongguk throws a quick look his way, his doe eyes adorably wide and mouth slightly agape. He quickly focuses back on the road, though, and for a moment, it looks as if he’s going to ignore the hell out of Taehyung, but then…

A hand closes around his knee. 

Biting his jaws together, hard, to keep a surprised gasp inside, Taehyung tries his best to keep his hands from trembling nervously so he can snap a good picture. It has to look natural, as if it’s normal for them to casually touch like this.

Jeongguk moves. He moves and this time, Taehyung does let out an audible breath of air. He tries his best to cover it up with a cough, but almost chokes. Jeongguk’s hand never leaves his leg; it slides up and further up until it’s almost properly nestled between his thighs, and his grip grows a little firmer, makes Taehyung spread his legs a little more, and there’s the swipe of his thumb again, a few times over his thigh, so close to his hip, as if it’s an unconscious thing, as if it isn’t driving Taehyung mad.

Taehyung doesn’t move. He’s not even sure he’s still breathing at this point.

Still concentrating on the road ahead, Jeongguk shrugs. The movement carries down his arm, causes his hand to flex where it’s stretched over Taehyung’s thigh. It looks possessive there, a clear sign of what’s his, and it makes Taehyung dizzy.

“Hand on knee looks like we’re– what? Forty and married. Let’s not move that fast.”

Any other time, the echo of those words, first spoken by Taehyung on their first date, now falling from Jeongguk’s lips as they stretch into the smallest yet smuggest smirk, would have Taehyung at the edge of his seat, ready with a comeback to carry on the bickering back and forth. But this time, he can’t.

He lets his legs fall open the tiniest bit more, because he can’t resist, he has to push the limit, find out what happens next.

Jeongguk’s hand stays where it is, but his thumb starts rubbing small circles over the material of Taehyung’s trousers. It’s quite the image, his tattooed hand splayed almost entirely over Taehyung’s leg clad in preppy dress pants.

Quickly and with slightly shaking hands, Taehyung snaps a few pictures, hoping at least one will turn out well. As soon as he lowers his phone, Jeongguk yanks his hand back as if touching him for even a second longer will make him catch some rare and incurable disease.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. His stomach does somersault after somersault somewhere in his chest, where it should decidedly not be, as he swipes through the pictures. Upon choosing one, he adjusts the lighting and the contrast a little bit, making it look a bit moodier so it fits the urban vibe of the selfie he uploaded beforehand.

Again, he doesn’t give any further explanation, even as he sees the number of views climb higher and higher.

***

Halfway there, it starts to rain. By the time Jeongguk steers the car into a free parking lot under a wooden carport overgrown with ivy, it’s properly pouring.

They’re up on some kind of hill in what feels like the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees, bushes, and even more trees. The air feels humid and sticky, the kind that, even without the rain, would leave your skin feeling damp.

Taehyung seriously considers sending a cry of help in the form of a text message to Jimin and Hoseok asking what the hell they were thinking when they sent him off to stay in the woods with someone who is most likely out to kill him one way or another.

“Please tell me you know what the fuck this is about,” Jeongguk says. He’s leaning forward in his seat, arms bent at the elbows and hands braced against the steering wheel, as he squints out the windshield, taking in their surroundings. His eyes seem to get even wider, and there’s a particular shine of wonder to them that can only be a trick of the gloomy light.

“Nope.”

There’s only one car parked a few spots to the right from theirs, otherwise the area is completely deserted. Maybe they were given the wrong address, or maybe Jimin and Hoseok thought it would be funny to raise the stakes a little bit and see who will come out the bush alive.

“There’s a sign.” Jeongguk points out the window to his side.

Narrowing his eyes, Taehyung follows his finger – and he’s right. There is something that looks like a wooden piece cut cleanly out of a tree trunk almost disappearing behind the ivy vines. On it, ornate writing engraved into the wood reads something like –en Valley. And in slightly smaller font below, –ree Lodges.

“Should we investigate?”

Jeongguk's mouth curls in reluctance towards the rain splattering against the windows and the roof of the car. Turning his head, he gives Taehyung a quick once over, but Taehyung feels him get stuck on the top three open buttons of the off-white linen shirt he’s wearing. He looks deep in thought for a moment.

“Yeah. Um. Sure.”

The back of Taehyung’s neck tingles in something like muted anticipation. He watches as Jeongguk’s eyes zero in on the hollow spot between his collarbones where a thin gold necklace with a small locket for a pendant sits. It feels as if the boldness he usually prides himself on is running through his fingers, leaving him shy and just a little lightheaded.

At once, Jeongguk snaps out of his trance. His eyes screw shut for a couple seconds before he opens them again and blinks rapidly. Without any further ado, he shifts in his seat and cracks his door open, letting in a gust of humid air, “Alright. Let’s go.”

With ducked heads, they hurry through the rain. The downpour is relentless. Taehyung can basically watch Jeongguk’s fluffy hair turn into wet strands sticking to the back of his neck above the line of his sweatshirt.

They don’t bother to stop long enough to peek behind the leaves obscuring the sign, rather hurrying down a path of stone plates leading a swirling way into the thicket, heads ducked between their shoulders. Under the canopy of the trees, the rain isn’t so bad, but Taehyung still feels the droplets sliding down his skin and under his shirt.

“I don’t feel good about this.” Jeongguk is better at placing his feet on the scattered stone tiles, sometimes hopping from one to the other, but there still is a ring of mud forming around the sole of his expensive trainers.

Taehyung is so distracted watching the Achilles tendons move under the little bit of skin visible of Jeongguk’s ankles above his shoe and below the cuffed hems of his trousers, he doesn’t realise he’s stepped right into a puddle until his entire foot is soaked.

The universe couldn’t be any more clear. He screws his eyes shut and scrunches up his nose for a moment, shaking his wet foot.

In the end, the hotel’s reception isn’t too hard to find. It looks different than expected, though. The path leads a swirling way to a small wooden hut. It’s built right at the edge of a cliff, the jagged edge of the hill they had driven up here. Next to it, the mossy forest ground turns into bumpy rock and the trees give way to a steep slope.

Jeongguk stops under the narrow overhang of the roof in front of the hut’s door, so suddenly, Taehyung almost bumps into him as he tries to save what dry parts are left of him from the weather as well. He wipes at his eyes and nose, getting as much of the wetness off his face as possible, as he watches Jeongguk push both his hands through his dark hair. His black Balenciaga sweatshirt is damp, clinging to his chest in a way Taehyung can only deem utterly unfair.

Tearing his eyes away, he looks down his own body. His trousers are mostly fine, but his shirt is almost entirely soaked. He feels droplets of rain racing over the skin of his chest, tickling little things chasing one another.

When he glances back up, he catches Jeongguk’s eyes following them greedily.

Taehyung feels his heart in his throat. Which is fucking stupid. He’s not new to this, he’s not an innocent sixteen-year-old looking for the attention of the grown-ups anymore – he knows now. Knows how this works, how to gauge the other’s reaction, knows how to speak, whether to be offensive or defensive, knows how to angle his body, how to touch, look, be.

He’s wanted to be a model for so long, at this point, he has no idea how to be anything but. The muscles in his body are trained and disciplined, working on their own accord. He doesn’t need to give permission to his pushed out chest, the perpetual pout of his mouth, or the sultry look in his eyes – it’s all second nature to him, like a well-oiled machine working perfectly even in stand-by.

Except when it’s Jeongguk who’s looking at him.

Taehyung can’t explain it. He makes the gears inside of him grind together all wrong, screeching and rattling. It’s not like Taehyung has suddenly forgotten how to look his most alluring – he hasn’t, he realises, as he shakes his head in tiny little jerks, causing a little bit of water to fall out of his hair and back onto his face – it’s that he’s never sure it’s working with Jeongguk.

The rain is pelting against the roof and the leaves of the trees, a natural white noise that’s almost aggressive in its volume. Taehyung can’t hear his own thoughts, and maybe that’s for the best, or maybe he simply doesn’t have any thoughts left altogether, as Jeongguk, eyes still fixed on a spot somewhere near Taehyung’s collarbone, brings his hands down from his own hair between them. 

The tips of his fingers make almost no contact with Taehyung’s skin, but it doesn’t matter, it’s enough to make him feel warm all over. Whatever Jeongguk is doing, it tickles a little bit, and Taehyung has to count on every ounce of self control he has left to not arch into his touch.

It’s hard to look away from Jeongguk’s face, it’s such an oxymoron in and of itself: childlike innocence in his eyes where they are set on Taehyung, the mature frown of his brows; round cheeks puffing out ever so slightly, sharp jaw; perfect cupid’s bow lips–

Taehyung blinks, once, hard. He focuses on his wet foot, how uncomfortable it feels inside his loafer. The next time he opens his eyes, they’re cast downward, following the movement of Jeongguk’s hands.

One after the other, he’s fumbling the buttons of Taehyung’s shirt closed, leaving only the topmost one undone. 

It’s oddly intimate, watching him do it, and Taehyung can’t stop his brain from reeling, imagining a different scenario, one where there are no buttons and no shirts, just hands, just hands and skin and lips and rain.

Jeongguk pulls his hands back just in time as the hut’s door flies open. 

The boy appearing in the door frame is actually nothing but just that: a boy, only a few years younger than the two of them by the looks of it. On his head is a mob of shaggy dark brown hair. It falls into his eyes as he bows deeply. “I’m so sorry!”

Throwing a quick glance Jeongguk’s way, Taehyung can tell he isn’t the only one feeling a little lost right now.

“I kept an eye on the security cameras in the parking lot, but I must have missed your arrival somehow!” The boy keeps blabbering as he straightens back up. He’s tall, much taller than Jeongguk and even towering over Taehyung. From the way he carries himself, he doesn’t appear confident in his height though, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. “I wouldn’t have let you walk through the rain. Look, I was about to come out with umbrellas!”

Seemingly out of thin air, he produces three dark blue umbrellas, each sporting a colourful polka dot pattern. He’s so enthusiastic about it, he almost shoves them into Jeongguk’s chest, but then he sways awkwardly on the spot, his sharp eyes wide and his throat moving as he – what Taehyung guesses, anyway – remembers who is standing in front of him.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk speaks up, much to Taehyung's surprise, and looking at him all wet like this, with the strands of black hair stubbornly stealing away from where he keeps trying to tuck them behind his ears, Taehyung thinks the situation is pretty okay. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not made out of sugar.”

“Speak for yourself, baby,” Taehyung quips, playfully darting his hip out and letting it collide not so gently with Jeongguk’s.

Reacting quicker than Taehyung expected, Jeongguk wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close with so much force, he can’t keep himself from clumsily stumbling into his side, barely able to keep an embarrassed squeak locked away behind pressed together lips. It’s like Jeongguk is out to be as unpredictable as possible today, and he’s succeeding dramatically.

The boy’s eyes wander between them, his mouth slightly agape. He’s got an interesting face, his delicate features oddly captivating.

“So…” Taehyung squints at the name tag pinned slightly to the left of the boy’s beige polo shirt that makes him look even more like an overgrown primary school kid. “Kai. May we come in?”

“Oh!” The poor boy – Kai – almost jumps entirely out of his skin at being directly addressed like this. With another sheepish duck of his head, he nods, stepping to the side. “Of course. I’ll check you in.”

Once inside, Kai cycles through what must be a well practised routine for him. Glasses of fresh orange juice are pressed into their hands before he hurries off to retrieve their bags from Jeongguk’s car. Jeongguk only lets go of his keys after much reluctance and only because Taehyung leans a little more into his side, wrapping his lips around the metal straw in his drink and taking one giant slurp that empties half the glass in one go.

During the time they are alone, Taehyung makes a round through the room. There are a bunch of framed photos on the wall next to a certificate stating the excellent rating of the hotel on various booking sites. It looks like the whole thing is family run, judging by the people from three different generations in the pictures. It adds to the cosiness of the place.

“Your people are never in charge of booking a hotel for us ever again.”

It’s funny, isn’t it, in how many different ways Jeongguk manages to make Taehyung’s blood boil beneath his skin. This time, an intense wave of annoyance washes through him hotly, announcing itself as a deep sigh Taehyung lets out as he spins around on the spot. It’s almost like Jeongguk wants to see the worst in every situation, but Taehyung won’t have him saying a word against his best friends.

“Listen you–”

But Jeongguk isn’t even looking at him. He’s standing all the way across the room, near the reception counter, peering out of one of the windows. He’s a stark contrast to the rustic interior around him, all sharp angles and dark colours. Even with his wet clothes and hair, he somehow manages to look expensive.

Taehyung clasps his mouth shut and wanders over, discarding his empty juice glass on the counter in passing, eyes flitting over the broad expanse of Jeongguk’s back until he’s standing next to him. Their arms almost touch. There’s a certain kind of heat radiating off of Jeongguk, amplified by the dampness of his sweatshirt.

The view outside the window is stunning. Taehyung had never known a place like this existed, much less in this close vicinity to him. The hut, built at the very edge of the cliff, is overlooking a valley of tall trees. Despite the curtain of steady rain, the end of June has everything in full bloom, different shades of green mingling with one another, dotted here and there with red or purple or white.

Jeongguk’s problem with the whole thing becomes clear pretty much immediately. Taehyung spots it as soon as his eyes have adjusted to the look of this much nature all in one place.

Sprinkled here and there across the area, in the tops of the trees, there are treehouses. Some are more obscured from view than others, but they all seem to be relatively small, built carefully around the tree trunk and into the branches, with gently sloping roofs and balconies.

Next to Taehyung, Jeongguk moves, pushing his hair away from his forehead again with a sigh.

“We’re going to push each other off the balcony, aren’t we?”

“Not if I fling myself off of there first.”

“Go ahead, no one’s stopping you.”

There’s no chance for Jeongguk to retort, the crack of a door behind them followed by a lot of rustling and a low, muttered curse interrupting him.

Kai is back, looking strangely shapeless carrying Taehyung’s suitcase and Jeongguk’s duffle bag, the umbrella wedged between his shoulder and his neck to keep him dry. It takes him three tries to shuffle back into the hut, and the umbrella gives a questionable crunch suggesting one of the thinner metal bars just broke.

Before Taehyung can react – truth be told, he’s too confused by Kai’s awkwardly twitching limbs trying to carry everything all at once – Jeongguk crosses the room in quick strides, reaching out just in time to save his duffle bag from being dropped to the ground. He catches it by its strap, and the sleeve of his sweatshirt rides up his forearm, revealing shifting tendons and flexed muscle.

Maybe Taehyung will be the one jumping off the balcony, after all.

“Thanks,” Kai pants. Taehyung doesn’t know how he did it with his questionable balancing act, but he somehow managed to remain mostly dry.

They arrange their luggage next to the door, Jeongguk making sure to place his bag down carefully. He squats next to it for a moment as if he’s contemplating checking on the contents as well.

On his way back behind the reception counter, Kai presses the car keys into Taehyung’s hand, something that feels immensely pleasing to Taehyung, who waits to catch Jeongguk’s eye before slipping the small bundle into the pocket of his slacks with a smirk.

“Alrighty.” Kai pulls the keyboard of the computer a little closer to his body, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “You booked the Honeymoon Lodge, am I right?”

Taehyung chokes.

Jeongguk coughs.

They exchange a quick look, Taehyung confused, Jeongguk panicked.

Silence.

“Um.” Jeongguk clears his throat, getting up from his semi crouch next to his bag and coming closer. “I don’t–”

Alarmed, Taehyung interrupts him, “Our friends booked in for us actually! As a little surprise. You know, the season is just star–”

Disguised by the counter, Jeongguk elbows him in the ribs.

“– in full swing I mean. Of course. Yeah.” It takes a lot of self control for Taehyung not to flinch and immediately lunge for payback in Jeongguk’s direction. “These are actually the only couple of days we have off, and they knew that.”

Jeongguk makes a low sound at the back of his throat that passes as a hum of agreement but to Taehyung sounds more like a barely suppressed gagging noise.

“Ohhhh.” A mix of understanding and bashfulness washes over Kai’s face. “That’s so nice of them!”

“Right!” Taehyung pastes the biggest smile he can muster up on his face. His side still hurts. Jeongguk is going to pay for that. “It’s very exciting! But we actually have no idea what’s waiting for us.”

“Oh, you’re going to love it!” Kai mirrors the happy expression on Taehyung’s face. Success. Taehyung releases a small, relieved breath of air. “Your friends did their research. Not to be biased or anything, but they reserved you a night in the best lodge we have to offer.”

To Taehyung’s right, Jeongguk huffs a small, derisive laugh as he throws a look towards the window and the treehouses. Luckily, Kai doesn’t catch it, too busy clicking away on the computer, but Taehyung does.

He stomps his foot down on Jeongguk’s.

***

With time, the rain fades into a flimsy drizzle that seems to cast a moody filter over the colours of the world outside. As Kai leads them down a narrow path snaking down the side of the slope leading into the valley, the overhanging vines and ivy acting as a makeshift roof, Taehyung briefly feels like he’s been trapped inside an indie movie. Everything appears grainy and muted and a little flat.

“Eden Valley offers a variety of options for your stay,” Kai blabbers from the front of their short line. He’s so tall, the top of his head keeps brushing against the ivy leaves. “The sturdier trees carry treehouses. You can actually see them from here.”

Taehyung adjusts the suitcase in his hand. It’s not that heavy, but he can’t roll it over the ground here and it’s a bit unhandy to carry. He turns his head. He has to bend his knees a little bit in order to relax on the steep decline along the precipice as they’re slowly descending into the woods. Kai is right, he can spot the treehouses one after the other from here.

The thing is, at this point he’d rather spend a night in danger of Jeongguk pushing him to his death than enter something called the Honeymoon Lodge with him.

“Aside from that we have lodges on the ground between the trees, like little cottages.” It’s clear Kai’s been instructed to give this little introduction to every first time visitor to make the walk a little more entertaining, but he still sounds so enthusiastic about it. “Each of those comes with access to running water and electricity. I’m sure you’re delighted to hear the Honeymoon Lodge also has a jacuzzi!”

Taehyung hasn’t packed any swimwear and he’s fairly sure, without having to look his way, that Jeongguk hasn’t either.

The ground slowly flattens out as it transitions into mossy forest terrain. From here, more scattered stone tiles make the suggestion of different paths to follow. There is a wooden post with arrow-shaped signs attached to it, pointing out the way to Treehouses, Lodges, Spa Hut, and Grand Lake.

“Right.” Kai stops at the sign. “If you follow this way, eventually you’ll reach a clearing with a lake. Situated by it are our three lake houses. You’re welcome to swim there if you wish, although…” He holds the palm of his hand up to the sky as if to catch a bit of rain in it. “Maybe not today.”

Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, Taehyung finds Jeongguk already looking at him. He’s stopped a couple steps behind him, hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers, bulky duffle bag hanging off one of his shoulders. It seems to take him a moment to realise Taehyung is looking back at him, and once he does, he tears his eyes away quickly, tipping his head back towards the sky. Like this the cut of his jaw looks extra sharp, and Taehyung’s intrusive thoughts get the best of him, making him wonder what it would feel like to trace it with his tongue.

Resting his suitcase on the ground for a moment, he shakes his head to himself. Wrong thing to ponder about.

“Actually, the Honeymoon Lodge comes with a small pond just to itself,” Kai says. Grinning, he turns his head. “I wouldn’t recommend swimming in it, though. Unless you really love frogs.”

They walk for a little while longer, Kai’s voice floating pleasantly above the hum of drizzle on the tree leaves and the occasional chirping of the birds. He’s explaining the vegetation surrounding them, assigning a name to every bush they pass, as well as the different amenities. Taehyung really tries to absorb the information of when the Spa Hut is open, but he’s too distracted trying not to glance Jeongguk’s way too often.

After a few more minutes, Taehyung begins to realise how the Honeymoon Lodge must have earned its name. It’s been a while since he’s spotted another treehouse or a lodge, and the canopy formed by the mingling crowns of the trees overhead has grown thicker.

“It’s over there.” Kai leads them past a row of neat flower beds decorated with colourful garden gnomes.

The muscles in Taehyung’s arm carrying the suitcase cheer upon spying the outlines of a small house nestled between the trees a small distance away. He stops for a second, resting the piece of luggage on the ground littered with brownish leaves and rolling his shoulder back once, twice.

Before he can bend over to pick the suitcase back up, Jeongguk is next to him, grabbing the strap attached to the side of it and lifting it in his left hand as if it’s nothing.

Pressing his lips together because Kai chooses this moment to turn around and look at them again, Taehyung contemplates whether or not it’s possible to find a stick big enough to bash Jeongguk’s head in around here.

“Here we are.” Kai sounds almost proud as he spreads his arms in a sort of sweeping gesture.

Taehyung, eyes fixed on Kai, puts a little extra pep in his step as he propels past Jeongguk. He ignores the way their hands brush together and linger for one, two beats too long when he reaches over to pry the suitcase out of Jeongguk’s grip.

It sounds like Jeongguk is about to say something, or maybe he just wants to do one of his condescending huffs again, or maybe the perpetual stick up his ass is beginning to make him really uncomfortable, Taehyung doesn’t know and neither does he care.

Kai’s feet make a thumping noise as he hops up a small staircase leading up to the house, and that’s when Taehyung decides to finally look up and take in what’s in front of him.

Tended-to flower beds of evergreen plants frame the way leading up to the lodge. It’s built on stakes and entirely made out of wood that blends in with the oaks surrounding it. The staircase and wrap-around porch are framed by tall, blooming bushes that obscure parts of it completely from view.

There are lanterns and wind chimes dangling from the gently sloping roof. Placed to the right of what appears to be the front door is a set of outside furniture.

Kai smiles at them from the first step of the stairs. He’s balancing his weight on one foot, letting the other dangle and brush through the tall grass.

The closer they get to the lodge, the better Taehyung understands how it manages to harmonise so well with the nature around it. It’s not that the small house is simply built in the forest, it is built around the forest, filling up the little nooks and crannies of nature, some of the thick, wide-spreading branches growing into and through the house.

“Beautiful, right?”

Taehyung doesn’t get a chance to reply to Kai’s words, because suddenly there is an arm wrapped around his waist, and then it’s dropping to his hip, fingers slipping into the belt loops of his trousers to keep him from jumping away. He takes in a surprised gust of air, smells nothing but honeysuckle, and holds his breath.

Blushing, Kai averts his eyes. He claps his hands together, the loud crack startling the birds above into silence. “I’ll leave you to it, then. You’re all inclusive guests, which means all meals are taken care of. Lunch will be delivered at one, dinner at seven. Breakfast for today is set up inside. You’re checking out tomorrow night after dinner, is that correct?”

It takes a moment for either of them to react. Taehyung is too focused on keeping his legs straight and steady, all while the spot on his hip where fingers are pressing into him is burning.

Jeongguk visibly stiffens next to him when he realises he’s being talked to. “Uh.”

Taehyung turns his head to look at him and finds him with his eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline, and Taehyung is bitter, so bitter, because of course he looks absolutely adorable when he’s clueless.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk tilts his head a little to the side. It reminds Taehyung of a confused puppy. Which is just great, exactly what he needs his brain to do: associate the most annoying person he’s ever met with pure cuteness. “Yeah. Sure. After dinner.”

“Perfect.” Kai jumps off the step and crosses the distance between them swiftly. He’s holding out one of his arms, a key on a burnt-orange keychain dangling from his fingers. “I wish you the best stay. If there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable, do not hesitate to call the front desk. I’ll be there until noon and then my sister will be taking over. We’re happy to help!”

Before Jeongguk can move even in the slightest, Taehyung is already snatching the key out of Kai’s hand. He doesn’t get any further away though, the fingers clenching around his hip bone holding him firmly in place.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says, and Taehyung feels him bowing next to him, his shoulder brushing along his arm. 

It’s comical how huge Kai’s eyes get at once, the faint blush atop his pronounced cheekbones intensifying by a tenfold. He stutters his way through a final “Enjoy your stay!” and then he’s off, stumbling over a couple of tangled twigs on the ground as he starts in the direction of the reception hut.

Taehyung winds out of Jeongguk’s hold. Wiggling the key through the air between them, he keeps his body angled towards Jeongguk as he walks up the staircase backwards. “That boy definitely has a shrine for you in his bedroom.”

“What?” Jeongguk follows suit, and he’s quick, leaving barely any space between them.

It messes with Taehyung’s head, because of course it does. That’s probably why Jeongguk’s doing it. He has to concentrate in order not to trip, his eyes frantically flitting between Jeongguk’s face and their feet, pointed towards each other as Taehyung is walking backwards and Jeongguk forwards, one always close to stepping on the other.

Still, Taehyung won’t let go of his wits, ever, even if he has to fall on his ass first.

“I bet he collects those weird glitter stickers that come with some chocolate bars,” he says. His hand holding onto the key is slowly sinking between them. “And single-handedly voted you into the top third of the world’s most handsome men.”

“You sure know a damn lot about me.” The tip of Jeongguk’s foot nudges against Taehyung’s. He’s forgotten to take another step, too distracted by the mocking tug of Jeongguk’s mouth.

“Well, you know what they say.” 

Taehyung tries not to jump when he moves back just a little further and feels his shoulders collide with the front door of the lodge at once. He lets go of his suitcase. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to care, he comes closer anyway, trapping Taehyung in place with his body and his stare, leaving barely enough space for Taehyung’s hand holding up the key between them.

The thrill of intrigue is almost paralysing. Taehyung swallows thickly.

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Jeongguk fully laughs at that, but it sounds breathy and haughty and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re cast slightly downwards between them, and Taehyung can’t help but take his bottom lip into his mouth, feeling his gaze following the movement.

“Who says that?”

It’s very difficult for Taehyung not to let his head tip back against the wood of the door. He wonders if Jeongguk would lean in even more if he did. “Ah, you know. Philosophers. The pope. Superheroes, probably.”

The floorboards of the veranda creak when Jeongguk takes another tiny step. Their feet are properly touching now, muddy trainers pressing against even muddier loafers. “Sounds like wise words to live by.”

His voice is so quiet, barely audible over the sound of the forest around them, and Taehyung almost, almost leans in. He feels so acutely aware of his own body, like he’s a raw wire buzzing with tension.

“How close exactly are we talking?”

Taehyung presses the lines of his teeth together. He’s flat against the surface of the door now, the only thing not touching the wood is the arch of his back, and Jeongguk is coming nearer and nearer still, placing a hand flat next to his head. One of his feet is wedging itself between Taehyung’s, prying them apart into a wider stance so he can fit between them.

“How close are you willing to get?” It’s nothing but a low whisper, Taehyung’s voice. He’s sure Jeongguk must feel his breath fanning against his skin at this point. His hand hovering somewhere between their chests feels so goddamn heavy, his eyelids even heavier as they threaten to flutter shut.

“Well, aren’t you curious to find out.” The smirk on Jeongguk’s face is audible in his tone. It makes him sound arrogant, condescending, like an asshole, and really, really fucking hot.

It’s like Taehyung can feel what’s left of his composure gradually slipping through his fingers like sand. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, Jeongguk is, a bad decision and a mistake, and Taehyung is absolutely, without a doubt, going to make it.

The keys are out of his hand in an instant. 

Jeongguk snatches them away, and then he falls back on his feet a little, bringing distance between them. Before Taehyung can really catch on to what just happened, he’s already reaching around him, and the key is scratching inside the hole, and then the door pressing against the length of Taehyung’s back gives way.

He feels himself trip and fall – possibly in more than just one sense of the word.

Catching himself two steps past the threshold, Taehyung opens his mouth to protest or quabble, but it feels incredibly dry all of a sudden. He breathes in deeply when Jeongguk pushes past him into the small house, and then he just stands there for a few moments, eyes not focused on anything, heartbeat embarrassingly quick.

He’s just not used to it, is the thing. It’s not like no one has ever managed to keep up with this little game of back and forth he likes to play, no, it’s quite the contrary actually, people usually find his attitude all the more intriguing, and Taehyung is used to using it against them, emotionally distance himself by knowing he’s in control.

Doesn’t work with Jeongguk.

He gets under his skin. Ties up his throat. Makes his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Taehyung closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply, determined to get the sweet honeysuckle scent out of his system. He has no idea how to survive the next thirty-six hours, but he will. He’s a lot of things, but a quitter is not one of them.

With a barely suppressed, frustrated grunt, he dodges Jeongguk’s duffle bag swinging behind his retreating form. He’s left his muddy shoes out on the veranda, quickly toed off but pushed neatly to the side, meanwhile Taehyung has stained the fluffy rug placed in the hallway behind the front door.

He bites the insides of his cheeks enough for it to hurt, and then he kicks his loafers off as well.

There’s a musky, wooden smell to the lodge. The walls of the hallway are a welcoming cream colour that harmonises perfectly with the oak floorboards. Left and right, there are doors leading to other rooms. Arched around them are hand-painted vines of ivy on the wallpaper.

It’s a small place, Taehyung feels like he can overlook it all just by standing near the front door. To the left, through the open door, he can peer into a kitchen, which is all mint cabinets and clean countertops.

Jeongguk doesn’t stop to look, marches right past the framed photographs on the wall and straight ahead where the hallway opens up to a spacious living room. Taehyung leaves his suitcase next to the kitchen door and follows him.

Outside, the sky must be clearing up slowly, because daylight is flooding the living space through the two big windows on either side of a barn-style door leading out the back. 

There’s a huge, L-shaped couch taking up almost half of the room, fuzzy blankets draped over one corner and fluffy pillows neatly arranged in the other. One of the tree branches cuts into the room here, spreads low over the sitting space before growing out the ceiling. Wrapped around it are star-shaped fairy lights.

Opposite, the other side of the room is crammed with a steep ladder-like staircase leading up into what looks like a trap-door opening to the second floor, and a dining nook. The table is placed in front of one of the windows, round and a little lower, complete with a set of upholstered chairs. Like Kai said, there is breakfast, plates stacked full of pancakes, rice, eggrolls, and fruits carefully set up for them.

“You can have the bed.” Jeongguk’s voice floats through the room, sounding nearer than he actually is. He’s gesturing towards the staircase, and then he shrugs. “I’ll just take the couch.”

“How courteous of you,” Taehyung scoffs, leaning over and popping a piece of watermelon into his mouth. 

As he chews, he gives Jeongguk a quick once over. He looks a little lost, like a city boy left dropped off in the middle of nowhere, the brand logos screaming from his shirt, his trousers, his bag, too loud for the quiet solitude of such a place.

“Take it or leave it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Grabbing another diced, seedless watermelon piece, Taehyung takes two steps in Jeongguk’s direction. The couch is between them. He places the hand not holding the fruit on the armrest, angling his body forward a little so they’re closer together again, batting his eyelashes at him innocently while he feels a drop of watery juice run down the side of his pinky. “Would you like me to fall to my knees and thank you?”

He should really stop being surprised by Jeongguk at this point and just accept the unpredictability of his nature. But he can’t help the sharp inhale as the other mirrors his stance, places one hand on the armrest of the couch, creasing the material beneath his grip, and leans in dangerously close.

“No.” 

Shifting back, Jeongguk plucks the piece of watermelon out from between Taehyung’s fingers and holds it between his teeth for a moment before sucking it into his mouth.

Heat creeps up the side of Taehyung’s neck. He quickly averts his eyes from Jeongguk’s lips, the sound of denial pulsing through his body, making his stomach flip.

“Whatever,” he mutters, giving the armrest a brief slap before letting go and turning around.

Before Jeongguk can pin him down with another word, he starts up the stairs.

The bedroom is small, narrowed by a maple tree growing through the roof in multiple spots. The ceiling is sloping on both sides, wide rectangular skylights carefully set into them, letting in natural light. There isn’t much space to walk around, most of it taken up by a large wooden bedframe, two chests of drawers, and a full body mirror.

Looking at the bed, Taehyung shrugs. It seems big enough to fit two people – even two who can’t stand each other – but he’s not going to complain about all the space he’s going to have to himself tonight.

“Hey, Jeon,” he calls, spinning around his own axis once with his head angled back. Rays of sunlight fight their way through the thick blanket of clouds in the sky, their light falling in through the windows and breaking into tiny rainbows in the glass of the mirror. “Come up here.”

“Why?” Jeongguk’s voice floats up the stairs.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “The ghosts in the attic require a sacrifice.”

“Fuck you.”

“God, you wish.” In the middle of the room is another one of those big, fuzzy rugs. Taehyung digs his naked foot into it. “Now get your ass up here.”

There’s an annoyed groan followed by complete silence. And then footsteps – it sounds like Jeongguk is dragging his feet across the floor listlessly – and the creaking of the staircase.

Taehyung’s mouth tugs up into a small, pleased smile. He always gets what he wants, sooner or later.

“What is it?” Jeongguk asks as soon as his head pops through the trap door opening. The mob of dark hair on his head is drying in messy, frizzy waves, and it’s seriously unfair just how well he can pull it off.

Jerking his chin in a motion that beckons him to come closer, Taehyung says, “We got work to do. In case you forgot.”

Confusion makes Jeongguk frown in a way that has that little dimple appearing beside his mouth again. He climbs up the rest of the staircase, and then it’s like Taehyung can feel his presence in the room. There’s a certain warmth to Jeongguk, not entirely physical but something about the way he fills up a room just by standing in it.

Taehyung fishes his phone out of the pocket of his slacks and wiggles it in a grand gesture from left to right.

“You want to take a picture like this?” Jeongguk asks.

After a quick glance down his own body, Taehyung quickly finds his reflection in the mirror. His shirt is creasing a little awkwardly around his form where it’s still damp, but at least it isn’t as see-through anymore.

And he has to do something about those buttons, it doesn’t look good when he’s clammed up from top to bottom.

Jeongguk’s reflection appears next to him, the pout on his face more curious than annoyed now, and Taehyung can’t help but feel pride surge through him. The intrigue between them seems to go both ways.

Lookswise, they’re a stark contrast to each other, Taehyung all slender limbs decked in muted colours, Jeongguk in his all black high fashion getup. They really shouldn’t work together, but they do.

Lifting his phone, Taehyung quickly opens the camera app.

“Is this really what the people want to see?” Jeongguk leans closer to squint at the screen. “We look like a couple of drenched rats.”

“Again,” Taehyung says, his tone sweet, but he doesn’t dare turning his head to properly look at Jeongguk. “Speak for yourself, baby. And now would you be so kind and act a little more like a boyfriend? I’m really carrying this whole act by myself.”

The contemptuous huff Jeongguk lets out moves his whole body. He shifts back just a little, and Taehyung can watch him turn his head to glare at him in their reflection. Internally, he gears up for another round of bickering, feels the anticipation of it burn through him from head to toe.

But then.

Completely out of nowhere, one of Jeongguk’s arms winds itself around Taehyung’s waist, just like he’d done earlier when they were trotting after Kai, except this time he’s drawing Taehyung in, his grip firm, the palm of his hand fitting perfectly in the natural curve of Taehyung’s body.

Taken off guard, Taehyung stumbles a little bit, but he doesn’t put up any kind of resistance as Jeongguk manoeuvres him into place. Even if he wanted to, it’s like he has no control over his limbs anymore.

So all he can do is watch their counterparts in the mirror with wide eyes and bated breath.

Jeongguk’s pulling him into his arms; scoops him up and wraps him in an embrace that appears equal parts intimate, possessive, and wholesome.

Taehyung feels a little dizzy. He can’t wrap his mind around Jeongguk. He seems to be so many things, so many things all at once, and it leaves Taehyung faltering.

His back is entirely pressed into Jeongguk’s chest, and they’re still damp, clothes and skin and hair, and he can feel the muscles in Jeongguk’s torso and his arms shift as he drags him another tiny step closer.

Grinding his teeth together, Taehyung keeps every audible reaction locked away behind his lips as his hips move back and his ass collides with Jeongguk’s crotch.

One corner of Jeongguk’s mouth twitches traitorously before it pulls into a complacent smirk.

“Baby, huh?” The tone of his voice hasn’t changed, it still carries the same amount of challenge and a hint of offence, but it’s dropped in volume, is much more of a low rumble next to Taehyung’s left ear. His arms flex where they’re wrapped around Taehyung’s middle. “Go on, darling. Take your picture.”

And it’s that, that taunting, arrogant whisper, the firmly linked hands before his navel that are keeping him in place, and the goddamn fucking smirk that make Taehyung’s face flare up in a flush of red.

He doesn’t know how he manages, but somehow his hand is steady when he holds the phone up at an angle that allows the camera to capture their reflection as well as a little bit of the surrounding room. The morning light filtering through the clouds renders everything soft, makes even the whole wet clothes situation look oddly aesthetic.

If possible, Jeongguk inches even closer. At this point, Taehyung is sure he’s doing it out of nothing but pure spite and the intention to fluster him further. Case in point: he’s hooking his chin over his shoulder now, and the way he glances at the phone in Taehyung’s hand makes his eyes look extra round and almost, almost innocent.

He snaps a quick photo. And because he’s not a complete newbie, he switches to video mode with a quick swipe of his thumb, capturing the exact moment Jeongguk pulls an (admittingly adorable) grimace that makes him laugh and roll his eyes.

Tempted to take more pictures as an excuse to stay like this, Taehyung allows himself to lean back, just a little bit.

Jeongguk’s fingers move in a small rubbing motion over his stomach. He’s still keeping him locked in place, both with his grip and his chin on his shoulder, and Taehyung doesn’t really know what to do with this except relax further into the touch.

“Done?” 

Jeongguk’s hand is on its merry way to getting all tangled up in Taehyung’s shirt. He can feel it slipping out where he’s tucked it into his slacks. It’s nothing but the smallest suggestion of something, something incredibly stupid that Taehyung can no longer deny he kind of really wants to happen, it’s barely anything, but it sends his head into a frenzy, causes it to supply mental image after image to him that only intensify the blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds rough. It sounds like that, and all he’s done is be near Jeongguk.

“Good.” Jeongguk lets go of him at once, his arms falling away so quickly, Taehyung almost loses his balance. He steps away, out of the mirror’s reach, and isn’t it a shame, because all Taehyung wants is to keep looking at him.

That’s when he remembers he’s got his phone.

He gets to work right away, simply sinking down to the floor and crossing his legs beneath his body, the rug fluffy beneath him. 

It’s a habit he’s picked up from Jimin, the whole sitting on the floor thing. He can’t count the times he’s walked in on Jimin crouching in front of his laptop on the ground in front of his work desk, filing through a horrendous pile of emails. When Taehyung asked him about it once, he’d claimed he works “quicker and more efficiently” like this, and also that “chairs are for losers.”

“So, um.”

It’s a little bit funny, just how lost and out of place Jeongguk looks once again as soon as he’s not being paid attention to. In that moment, Taehyung can totally see him as the younger brother, the baby of the family, that he is.

“What’s the plan for today?”

Taehyung saves the couple tweaks he’s made on their photo before swiping into Instagram, only to be greeted by a bunch of grey squares. “Ah damn, there’s barely a bar of service here.”

“Taehyung.”

Getting up from the ground, Taehyung holds his phone up in the direction of the skylight. The posts on his timeline are loading at a snail’s pace. “Did Kai say anything about wifi?”

“No.”

“Then could you be a gentleman and call the front desk?” He flashes the sweetest and also fakest smile he has to offer at Jeongguk.

It leaves him cold, because of course it does.

“If you say please and thank you.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Over my dead body.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Jeongguk shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s not as hard to arrange as you think it is.”

“Try me, Jeon.”

“God.” Jeongguk lets his head fall back with the force of his groan. Taehyung’s never wanted to bite the hinge of someone’s jaw this much. “Can you just answer my damn question before I actually kill you?”

“If you say please and tha–”

Jeongguk’s head snaps back down, and if the look alone isn’t enough to shut Taehyung up, his words surely are, “I swear I’ll bend you over that bed right now.”

If Taehyung wasn’t at such a sudden loss for words, with his mouth hanging open and the words dying at the tip of his tongue, he’d be laughing hysterically.

Jeongguk doesn’t give him time to recover. “So?”

“Uh.” Taehyung swallows. His brain feels a little sluggish and he’s pretty sure his face is more than able to fry eggs at this point. “Shower, I guess. And then breakfast. And after that we have to take more pictures.”

Upon the nod Jeongguk gives him, a foggy feeling of something akin to accomplishment rises up from his tingling stomach, making his chest swell a bit.

“See,” Jeongguk says. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Taehyung is fucked.

There’s no way Jeongguk doesn’t know what he’s doing, and somehow that makes it worse, makes it worse in a good way, a good way that is so, so incredibly bad for Taehyung’s heart.

Chapter Text

There’s no wifi in the lodge.

“What do you mean there’s no wifi in the lodge?” Taehyung is standing at the junction where the hallway opens up to the living room, towel hanging loosely around his neck in order to avoid the droplets of water trickling from his curls soaking his fresh shirt.

He’s going for a more insouciant look this time: comfortable chequered trousers that might or might not have been part of a pyjama set once upon a time, a grey t-shirt lackadaisical tucked into them, and a fluffy cardigan around his shoulders.

“Apparently that’s part of the whole,” Jeongguk grimaces, “Honeymoon Thing."

He’d called dibs on the shower, and now he’s looking extra soft in baggy blue jeans, a big black shirt, and a flannel. He’s sitting in one of the chairs at the dining table, and to Taehyung’s surprise, it seems like he waited so they could eat together.

With a low groan, Taehyung drops onto the chair opposite him. He’s got his phone in hand, and he can practically watch that one meagre bar of service in the top left corner struggle as it hangs on by the thinnest of threads.

Jeongguk makes a displeased noise. It’s some weird mix of amusement and annoyance, a weird crossover of emotions only he could wrap up in a sound. “A day without Instagram won’t kill you, you know.”

Taehyung’s first instinct is to snap at him. It’s clear Jeongguk isn’t thrilled by the prospect of the utter lack of distraction by social media or several streaming services either, he’s just trying to one up Taehyung. 

Pushing a bowl of big, juicy grapes aside, Taehyung places both his elbows on the tabletop and leans forward. He wills his voice to remain mostly calm, factual, but he also can’t really help himself. “Well, you know, it’s my job, you know, and you, someone who hasn’t posted anything in what, a year, have absolutely no idea how this works, you know.”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes at him. If anything, it’s another welcome challenge.

“The algorithm kicks you in the ass if you don’t keep up with the app. If you don’t post frequently, you’re out, and it’s hard if not impossible to get back in. You’re out. And if you’re out, no one will see your content. If no one sees your content, you don’t get money. If you don’t get money, you can’t pay your bills. So, yes, Jeon, a fucking day without Instagram could kill me. You know.”

For a moment, it looks as if Jeongguk is going to retort something, but then he just leans back in his chair instead. He pulls one foot up on the chair with him, hugging his knee to his chest. He’s wearing toe socks. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

Perplexed, Taehyung frowns. “What?”

“The – what was it.” Jeongguk balances his elbow on his propped up knee and gestures vaguely with his hand in a way that indicates he knows exactly what it was. “The algorithm. Sounds exhausting.”

“Oh.” Taehyung eyes one of the plates stacked high with American-style pancakes before ultimately deciding to snag the topmost one, the one with the little piece of butter on it, for himself. “I mean. Yeah, I guess so. I’m lucky, because I still have a lot of fun posting and engaging with people on social media, but a timeout would be nice from time to time.”

It’s not in the cards for him, at least not in the near future. It’s scary, how much of an insight he has in the analytics of his accounts at this point and how important they have become to his day to day life.

Maybe someday, one day, he won’t have to rely on those statistics anymore.

Jeongguk gives another one of his noncommittal noises, which is honestly better than anything Taehyung could have hoped for.

For a while, they sit in silence safe for the calm pitter-patter of another shower outside. 

Taehyung carefully arranges an array of fruits around his pancake and finishes it off with a drizzle of maple syrup. After snapping a couple pictures from straight above, he puts his phone aside and proceeds to drown his food in the syrup.

“Ew,” Jeongguk comments as he slowly chews another dice of melon.

“Hey,” Taehyung tuts, piercing a grape with his fork and scraping a piece off the pancake and dragging it through the syrup-soup on his plate for good measure. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Why do I feel like you say that to a lot of things?”

Taehyung wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. When he holds the bite out across the table, syrup oozing from the fork and landing squarely on the table top, Jeongguk flinches back a little, shaking his head.

“Come on.” Leaning further across the table, Taehyung adds in a sing-song voice, “Here comes the airplane!”

Jeongguk gives him a brief glare full of something like annoyance and a little bit of disbelief to the fact that Taehyung is talking to him like he’s five years old. His hand comes up, reflexes quick, his fingers closing around Taehyung’s wrist. The fork is approximately half a centimetre away from his mouth.

“Try it.”

“No.”

“You’re no fun,” Taehyung pouts. “Look at this. I am the best boyfriend in the entire world and prepared this for you, baby.”

Even as he says it he feels the taste of provocation dripping from his voice whenever he uses the pet name on Jeongguk lose its venom. There’s no punch behind the word, little to no mockery, like it just slipped out because Jeongguk keeps looking at him out of those big, round eyes, and it’s scary, it’s suddenly really, really scary.

“I can’t.”

Thankfully, that works like a charm to get Taehyung’s brain on the rails again.

He grumbles and pushes his bottom lip out a little more, pleased when he notices Jeongguk’s eyes dropping to catch the moment for a second before jumping back up and staring at the piece of pancake in mild disgust mixed with almost childish desire.

“You’re officially on vacation,” Taehyung says, wiggling his hand in Jeongguk’s hold. For his next words, he tries to keep the tone of aggravation to a minimum, because he really does mean them, “No stupid meal plans here.”

“They’re not stupid,” Jeongguk argues, because of course he does.

“They are if they don’t allow you to eat yummy pancakes on your day off.”

It’s stupid, but some weird, caring part of Taehyung – the part that sounds a lot like his grandmother when she was still alive and well and cooking in her small kitchen back when he was little– really wants to make sure Jeongguk eats his damn breakfast.

Jeongguk clearly wants to. His mouth does the thing where it opens and closes ever so slightly, like he’s breathing or maybe he’s gearing up to fight Taehyung on the matter but doesn’t actually know what to say.

Before Taehyung can start whining about how his shoulder is seriously starting to cramp up, Jeongguk leans in just a little bit, his fingers still tightly clamped around Taehyung’s forearm, and steals the piece of pancake from the tip of the fork.

Immediately after, he lets go.

Taehyung pulls his arm back and watches him, an odd fluttering feeling taking shape in his tummy.

It’s kind of funny. Jeongguk looks deep in thought for a moment, as if he’s contemplating every single one of the decisions he’s made in the past almost twenty-five years that have led him to this point in his life.

And then he frowns. Properly. His eyebrows draw together at once, a deep crease appearing between them, and his cheeks are bunching up as he chews, as if they’re stuffed full with much more than just one bite.

Quite frankly, it’s adorable. Taehyung’s insides feel a little bit like that piece of butter melting away on the remaining part of the pancake.

“It’s good,” he states, mostly to get the last word in but also because his inner monologue needs to turn it down, like, several notches.

“It’s too sweet,” Jeongguk promptly holds against him, mouth still full, brows still furrowed.

It’s so endearing, Taehyung can hardly stop himself from smiling fondly. “Liar,” he says instead. His mouth twitches traitorously. “Look at you! It’s so tasty it makes you angry!”

Jeongguk shows him his middle finger. Paired with the slowly receding frown on his face, his cosy getup, the toe socks, and his freshly-washed, fluffy hair, it really doesn’t pack much of a punch.

A grin breaks out on Taehyung’s face, so wide, it kind of hurts his cheeks. He quickly averts his eyes, focussing on the rest of his pancake. Privately, he notices Jeongguk reaching over the table to retrieve another one from the stack as well as the maple syrup for himself.

They sit and eat in silence for a few minutes, each of them scrolling through whatever apps have the grace and mercy to load respectively. It’s mostly KakaoTalk for Taehyung, but the memes Jimin is sending in response to his desperate cry for help in their group chat with Hoseok are nothing but blurry smudges of images with an infuriatingly rotating circle in the middle.

taetae’s onlyfans

Taehyung
guys im serious

Taehyung
JIMIN STOP SENDING PICTURES THEY ARENT LOADING

Hobi
🥺😳🧐😱

Jiminie
you’ll live

Taehyung
no i wont
chim hes wearing toe socks
thats psychopath behaviour

Hobi
😆😂🔥

Taehyung
if i die here dont forget to monetise it somehow
im not letting him win this

Jiminie
oooohhh you wanna kiss him so bad

At once, Taehyung feels heat flushing his cheeks. There’s a sputter quickly rising up his throat that he can’t exactly communicate over text, so he quickly drops his phone on the tabletop next to his plate, accidentally hitting his fork at an unfortunate angle and sending it clattering to the floor.

Jeongguk’s gaze snaps up from his phone. At the sight of Taehyung’s flustered everything, he raises his eyebrows in question. “You okay?”

“No.” Taehyung’s eyes widen at his own mistake and he lets out a frustrated half-second scream that he really hopes only happens inside his head. “I mean yes. Why? Do I not look okay? I’m okay.”

The right one of Jeongguk’s eyebrows raises just a tad higher.

As if on cue, his phone lights up with a new notification on the table.

Jiminie
I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

Taehyung almost sends the plate off flying as well as he darts his hand out and snatches his phone away to place it face down in preferably the depths of hell.

“I’m fine.” He says it with a bit of force, reassuring not only Jeongguk but also himself that that is indeed the case. “I just think we should probably get to work soon.”

Glancing between Taehyung’s face and the scattered pieces of fruit left over on his plate, Jeongguk looks a little lost in the face of Taehyung’s sudden moodswing. And Taehyung kind of has to give it to him this one time, because he’s also quite irritated with the way his brain seems to be jumping through hoops all over the place today.

“Right,” Jeongguk drags the word out into a long, condescending tone that makes him sound like he’s looking down on Taehyung again. Leaning forward and pressing his propped up knee further into his chest, he places his fork on his plate, barely emitting a sound.

Taehyung wants to haul himself across the table – for more than one reason.

“What did you have in mind?”

That’s a question far too dangerous. The shower has only done so well in ridding him of the ghost of Jeongguk’s touch, Taehyung can still feel him like a phantom, arms around his waist, hands on his stomach, chest pressed against his back. The look he’s regarding him with now isn’t helping, either. That stupid eyebrow still raised halfway, eyes intent with equal parts question and challenge.

Taehyung feels his blush intensify. His ears feel extremely hot.

He needs to stop this, like, right now. Get a grip. Find more convincing red flags about Jeongguk than a mysteriously failed marriage, a massive ego, and an even bigger mouth.

Taking in a shallow breath that he hopes the other doesn’t notice, he scoots his hips a little further to the edge of his seat and leans back. Spreads his legs just a bit. Tilts his head to the side. “You could take a picture of me right now.”

The muscles in Jeongguk’s face go slack – only for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough time for both Taehyung to notice and also for him to stop himself from patting his own shoulder in approval.

Momentarily, he’s trapped and pinned into place by Jeongguk’s stare, and then he feels his eyes darting over every inch of his body that is visible to him across the table. It feels a little bit like he’s managed to steal the ball from between Jeongguk’s dribbling feet by complete chance, and now it’s on him to aim for a goal.

Careful to keep Jeongguk’s attention, he adjusts slowly in his seat. Nothing but miniature movements that he knows will play out in his favour: Left shoulder angled slightly further down so his cardigan reveals a slither of bare skin, chin up, lips apart, hand placed loosely on his own thigh in the exact spot Jeongguk’s had been in a couple hours before.

There’s heat flaring between them, heavy and searing, and it's building and building to some unknown peak, an explosion maybe, doesn't matter, Taehyung feels breathless from the anticipation alone.

It dissipates at once when Jeongguk is up and out of his seat.

Taehyung feels the tingling adrenaline inside of him reach a level that feels almost uncomfortable in the way it surges up into his chest, and then he deflates. With just a few strides, Jeongguk is all the way across the room, rummaging around somewhere close to the couch.

Not really knowing what to do with himself, Taehyung petulantly plants another pancake on his plate and proceeds to dunk even more syrup than before on it, additional fruits be damned, he’s had his fix of healthy foods for the day.

It’s like a goddamn rollercoaster, being around Jeongguk. There’s the rise, both of them riling each other up and up and up to a point so high Taehyung feels like there isn’t enough air to breathe, and this moment, them teetering the tipping point, is so long, so charged, it feels like there are sparks flying all around them – and then there is the fall. The absolute rush the spotlight of Jeongguk’s attention puts him through ebbing away and leaving him feeling small, silly, and a little angry.

Stuffing his mouth with half of the pancake at once, Taehyung concentrates on not glancing Jeongguk’s way. Like, he doesn’t see him crouching down, half his body obscured by the coffee table. He definitely doesn’t count the times he brushes his hair out of his face. And most of all, he does not care about the little satisfied grunt Jeongguk lets out when he seems to find what he’s been looking for.

He’s utterly, completely unbothered.

Jeongguk pads back over the hardwood flooring and Taehyung’s head immediately jerks up, curious gaze focused on him as he flops back down onto his chair.

It takes a moment, mostly because Taehyung is too distracted by the crease between Jeongguk’s eyebrows and his slightly pursed lips to look anywhere else, but eventually he allows himself to focus on the bigger picture of the man across from him and notices his hands fumbling with something.

A camera. Like, as in, an actual proper camera.

Before Taehyung can chew the remaining food in his mouth and ask about it, Jeongguk is already leaning back, small rectangular device lifted in front of his face. 

Cheeks bunched up around the pancake, Taehyung feels his eyes almost barge out of his head in panic. He means to move forward and reach across the table, but by the time he’s finished thinking that thought, Jeongguk is long done taking the picture.

The shutter noise is loud between them, startling Taehyung. He blinks in confusion. Over the years, he’s gotten so used to not even noticing the moment his picture is taken that he’s sort of taken aback right now. Quickly forcing the last bite of his food down, he squints at the camera as Jeongguk lowers it into his lap.

“Beautiful,” Jeongguk says, and even though there’s a sarcastic undertone clearly evident in his voice, Taehyung feels his heart drop out of his ass anyway. The way Jeongguk drags his gaze up his chest over his throat until they’re eventually holding eye contact doesn’t make it any better. “I think the syrup on your mouth really adds nuance.”

Instantly, Taehyung darts his hand up and touches it to his lips.

“More towards the corner,” Jeongguk says, attentively following Taehyung’s movements with his eyes. “No, the other. No. Wait.”

Taehyung freezes in place. 

Jeongguk is pushing up from his chair again, leaning over the round table, suddenly so close, Taehyung can’t stop himself from truly breathing him in.

And then he’s touching Taehyung, cupping his chin in a gentle yet firm grip. And then there’s that swipe of his thumb again, except this time it’s along Taehyung’s bottom lip while Jeongguk is half towering over him, and all Taehyung can do is sit there and stare dumbly up at him, completely at a loss for words for the nth time that day, and hope he doesn’t impulsively jump out of his seat and into his arms.

“There you go,” Jeongguk murmurs, rubbing his thumb up and down over the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. His eyes are half shut, his face relaxed in a way that looks criminal from up close.

“Thanks,” Taehyung rasps, purposely opening his mouth a little further around the word than strictly necessary to possibly get even the smallest taste of Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk’s lips part ever so slightly as he watches Taehyung’s mouth move, and his finger digs in just a little bit harder.

The swoop in Taehyung’s stomach is so violent it has him wishing he’d never bothered with the pancakes.

It’s another one of those moments where the tension between them feels like a palpable current, one of those peaks from where it can’t possibly go any higher.

The fall gets harder with every time.

Jeongguk yanks his hand back at once. He tears his eyes away and screws them shut for two whole seconds, and all Taehyung can think about is that he wants to know what images he is chasing from his brain.

Back on his chair, Jeongguk pulls one foot back up on the upholstery with him and hugs his thigh to his chest with one arm, the hand that had previously caressed Taehyung’s lip safely tucked into the bend of his knee.

A wave of something like muted pride washes through Taehyung. His head a little less foggy with the growing distance between them, he wonders how much more it would take for Jeongguk to break.

He’s about to test the waters, to push it like he always does, when he realises, his heart surging back up into his chest and beating relentlessly, that his wits haven’t come back to him yet.

There’s really no denying it.

He wants Jeongguk. Badly. Right this second if it were his choice.

But he isn’t going to be the one who caves first.

“What kind of camera is that?”

Jeongguk lifts his head, probably equally as surprised at the genuine interest in Taehyung’s voice as Taehyung himself.

“Oh, that, um.” He wiggles the camera in his hand. Its casing is a sleek grey with textured black inserts at the side. There are some traces of use visible to Taehyung even all the way across the table, the material a little chipped in the bottom left corner. “An old Nikon point and shoot. You know, film. My parents’ neighbour gave it to my dad when his husband died. My dad likes to take photos, but… Yeah, he had no idea what he’d gotten his hands on, so I kind of stole it from him.”

The little quirk of a mischievous grin tugging on one corner of Jeongguk’s causes a comfortable warmth to spread in Taehyung’s belly.

“So you know your way around cameras?” Taehyung asks, reaching for a glass carafe filled with something that looks like it could be strawberry milk.

“I mean.” Jeongguk shrugs. It looks more bashful than dismissive, and it’s such a stark contrast to the expression of hunger and desire on his face not even two minutes ago, it’s giving Taehyung whiplash. “I don’t feel very inspired to take pictures these days, but I did do quite well for the half semester I spent in uni as a photography major.”

“Wait, what.” Taehyung puts the carafe back down without filling his glass. “Photography?”

Jeongguk’s finger taps the casing of the camera. “Yeah. Why that tone of surprise?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung admits. “Just wouldn’t have thought that.”

“What would you have thought?”

Shrugging, he says, “I just figured something boring. Business, probably.”

“Business,” Jeongguk repeats, voice flat.

“Yeah.”

“Do I look like a business major to you?”

“No. But speaking of it you do look like someone who puts their milk before their cereal.”

To Taehyung’s surprise, Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat before he replies, despite the sudden change of topic.

“That way you can sprinkle it in and it stays crunchy!”

Taehyung stares blankly. “Oh my God, are you serious right now?”

“No.” Jeongguk grins widely. “I like my cereal as soggy as possible.”

“You know, somehow, every time you open your mouth you manage to say one thing worse than the last.”

Jeongguk’s laugh is breathy. He untucks his free hand and drives it through his hair before scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t worry,” he says, tone conciliatory. “I like my cereal perfectly crisp.”

“I can’t believe you.” A dramatic sigh. “You keep toying with my trust.”

Taehyung might be imagining it, but he thinks there’s the smallest bit of rosiness to Jeongguk’s cheeks.

“But,” he says, “now that I'm aware of the fact that you used to be a photography major once upon a time, I wanna clarify that I feel like I didn’t live up to my full potential just then.”

With the smile brightening every corner of Jeongguk’s face, the raise of his eyebrows looks much more encouraging than condescending. It sports the same amount of challenge though.. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Just to be sure…” Jeongguk lowers his hand and straightens his back. “You think you can do better than this?” He puffs out his cheeks as much as he can, immediately releasing the air in a sputter of air and giggles when Taehyung regards him with an offended glare.

“You suck.”

The grin stretching Jeongguk’s lips releases into a playful smirk. “Sometimes.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung presses his tongue flatly to the roof of his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep his blood from rushing both north and south. He’s not really sure when exactly they switched roles in the past couple minutes, but he’s not dealing well with his new position.

“Okay.” Expression unchanged, Jeongguk shifts in his seat, holding the camera up. “You get another go. Show me what you can do.”

It’s like some kind of switch is flipped inside Taehyung as soon as a lens is pointed his way. His head clears and his posture automatically adjusts according to the mood he’s asked to encompass. He easily relaxes back into his previous pose, legs comfortably spread, one shoulder exposed. Tipping his chin down ever so slightly, he focuses on the camera, eyes slightly wider than normal, bottom half of his face resting in a pout.

Jeongguk’s chest moves up and down beneath his t-shirt as he takes a deep breath, index finger searching for the release button.

At the very last moment before the click and shutter noise fill the silence of the room, Taehyung brings his hand to his face, parts his lips the tiniest bit, and places his thumb right in the corner, as if he’s wiping off more leftover syrup.

He almost expects Jeongguk to take another picture, but he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and places the camera on the table.

“And?”

“And what?” Wiggling his arms, Jeongguk pulls the sleeves of his flannel over his hands.

Taehyung pushes his own thumb further into his mouth, lightly biting on it for a second. He isn’t looking away from Jeongguk. “Was I good?”

Jeongguk’s eyes grow heavier and heavier where Taehyung feels them zeroed in on his hand. His voice is nothing but a murmur, “Yeah.”

And just like that, the game is fun again.

There’s another weird pang of pride resonating in Taehyung’s chest, making him preen.

“Does that thing have a self timer?”

There’s a slightly prolonged pause before Jeongguk blinks and looks down, as if he doesn’t actually know his own camera and has to make sure. “Uh. Yeah. Yes, why?”

Without second-guessing himself, Taehyung pushes up from his chair. He pads around the table and grabs the camera. When Jeongguk moves to pry it out of his hands, his foot falling off the chair’s upholstery with a dull thud, Taehyung yanks it back and out of his reach.

It’s a pretty old model, no screens or distractingly blinking lights, just a few buttons and little wheels to change the settings.

Granted, Taehyung has spent little to no time of his life on this side of the lens, but he prides himself on being a quick learner. It doesn’t take him very long to set up the self timer. Once he’s done – the action only slightly drawn-out by the way Jeongguk keeps trying to take the device away from him – he hops a couple steps back, placing the camera on the closed lid of a bowl on the table they hadn’t even bothered looking into.

“Gotta get the people to think we’re in love.”

Jeongguk has this look on his face that tells Taehyung he’s still processing how Taehyung got ahold of his camera in the first place. Dumbfounded and quite frankly, a little horrified.

Just like Taehyung likes his men, then.

“Get your leg back up.” He snaps his index finger lightly against the side of Jeongguk’s thigh. “Look comfy.”

Albeit a little stiffly, Jeongguk complies, pulling his knee to his chest again. His eyes remain fixed on Taehyung’s hand in close proximity to the camera.

“Chill,” Taehyung says. “I won’t break it.” 

He applies pressure with his index finger, pushing the button to activate the self timer. A red light starts blinking steadily.

Quickly, he steps around Jeongguk so he’s standing behind him, hips pressing against the backrest of the chair. Jeongguk seems frozen in place. Carefully, Taehyung places both his hands on his shoulders, trying to conjure up the same confidence and boldness Jeongguk had hugged him with earlier.

“Relax, baby.”

And miraculously, Jeongguk does. With one long exhale, he sags further back in his seat.

The movement causes the gentle grip of Taehyung’s hands to loosen, palms sliding just a little further down onto his chest.

The speed of the blinking red light increases.

Holding his breath, Taehyung leans down until his face is next to Jeongguk’s. His hands smooth down his torso, and Taehyung has to actually bite his tongue in order not to make a noise at the feeling of strong, firm muscle right beneath his fingertips.

Gaze focused on the camera, he pastes a sweet smile on his face, as if he’s happiest here next to his favourite person. A cute photo of a cute couple. Easy.

Except in the moment before the camera snaps their picture, Jeongguk turns his head. He hugs Taehyung’s forearms to his chest, traps him in this bend over position, and lightly skirts his breath over the shell of his ear.

The gasp that’s been safely kept at bay underneath Taehyung’s tongue for the longest time now finally breaks out of him. His head jerks down, face turned away from the camera, and Jeongguk is nosing along the length of his neck, and then there’s the click and clatter of the shutter.

It doesn’t surprise Taehyung when he’s let go pretty much immediately, arms and throat free of any trace of Jeongguk but senses still clouded by him; it does however make a sinking feeling of disappointment settle right in the middle of his chest.

He really needs to stage an intervention with himself next time he’s properly alone.

“Done,” Jeongguk says, leaning forward to snatch the camera.

“Yeah.” Taehyung just stands there for a second, still halfway hunched over, and his voice sounds so hollow it snaps him right out of his funk. He straightens up, squares his shoulders. “Congrats. That was the first of many pictures. Now outfit change, go!”

***

Time passes surprisingly quickly taking pictures. Taehyung goes through approximately three more mental breakdowns – two caused by suddenly finding himself in extremely close and intimate proximity to any body part of Jeongguk, and the other initiated by Jeongguk’s general audacity to wear a cropped shirt – and has taken to ground himself in reality by obsessively gnawing on his bottom lip.

It makes him look like he’s just come out of a heavy make out session, which isn’t too bad, given the image they’re trying to keep up with these photos.

Jeongguk busts out two more cameras, one that takes polaroids and one of those professional DSLR ones that Taehyung is used to playing with every time he has a shoot, and Taehyung is only slightly concerned about the fact that he finds himself genuinely smitten by the little introductions Jeongguk gives for each of them.

The film camera is declared the device that should capture their holiday moments, and they use the others as well as their phones to take more generic pictures. Just after a couple hours, Taehyung has more goofy and wholesome selfies with Jeongguk than he does with Jimin and Hoseok.

Lunch rolls around and Taehyung mostly uses it to quietly review the snapshots in his camera roll. Most of the food eaten, his attention diverts from the screen as Jeongguk gets up and starts pacing around the room. It seems he’s found an interest in the extensive DVD collection displayed on a shelf above the couch, trailing his index finger over the different-coloured spines.

In the afternoon, the sky clears.

Taehyung suggests taking a walk to make it seem like they actually did something on their days off together, and so they file out of the Honeymoon Lodge after Jeongguk has grumbled his exhausted agreement. He looks as if he’s played two taxing football games running at high speed, and from time to time, Taehyung catches him zoning out, his eyes staring hypnotizingly into the middle distance as his hands linger in places he’d usually snap them away from.

It’s humid out, courtesy of the strong sunshine after the heavy rainfall. Insects are buzzing about the blooming bushes, and there’s a particular wet shine to everything that makes the world seem sort of new.

Taehyung strips the jacket he’d put on just in case off and throws it over one shoulder. He’s left in a white undershirt and baggy denims. The sun feels pleasantly warm on his skin while the grass is slowly soaking his loafers.

Jeongguk is back in his black Balenciaga t-shirt, this time combined with a pair of loose-fitting jeans that are tapered around his ankles. His hair has gradually gotten messier over the past few hours from the way he keeps raking his fingers through it, but the way his bangs keep falling over his forehead in some weird distorted heart shape is absolutely adorable.

The lake lies untouched and idyllic in the middle of a clearing, three houses situated on one side of it in close proximity to a dock for pedal boats. Mirrored on the water is the golden hour of the day, glistening, smoothing out occasional ripples caused by fish swimming a little too close to the surface.

With his phone, Taehyung snaps a couple pictures and films a short sequence of the undisturbed nature, finally spinning around his own axis to get Jeongguk in the shot as well. 

When he realises he’s being filmed, Jeongguk pulls a goofy face and throws up a peace sign before coming closer and stretching his hand out, playfully swatting Taehyung’s phone away.

Service is better without a canopy of branches and leaves hanging overhead, and they spend a few minutes just lounging around one of the set up wooden picnic tables close to the water, updating their social media. Taehyung sits on the table top, shoes toed off, and he keeps getting distracted by the view of Jeongguk’s eyelashes against his cheeks as he’s typing on his phone because of the way he’s able to look down at him.

After posting the picture of his carefully decorated pancake to his story (and earning a muttered “fucking fraud,” from Jeongguk that noticably lacks venom), he leans back on his hands, tipping his face back to soak up more of the sunshine.

He’s always been a country boy at heart, no matter how much he tries and succeeds to fit himself into the cityscape. Too many summers were spent away from Busan at his grandparents’ old, overgrown lavender farm, back when the worry of never being enough was nothing but a stranger he was taught not to talk to.

Taehyung’s always been good at chatting people up.

The sun feels like it’s burning right through his skin, but it’s pleasant in a way. It reminds him of where his body ends, reminds him of exactly how much space he takes up in the universe, and tells him that’s really all that matters, that it doesn’t have to be bigger, better, more.

He strips the undershirt off and leaves it a small messy pile next to his thigh. This time, he leans a little further back, feels the warmth from above on his entire upper body and basks in it.

The weight of a stare is heavy on him, and when he angles his chin down and blinks his eyes open, he finds Jeongguk looking at him with a weird, almost pained expression on his face.

“What?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

But Jeongguk doesn’t reply, not right away anyway, stays mute for another few seconds before he finally pushes up from the picnic bench. “Stay like this.”

Perplexed, Taehyung turns after him. “Wha–”

“No!” Jeongguk is walking backwards, holding a hand out as if to command Taehyung to sit still. “Just. Don’t move.”

Taehyung’s gaze flits up and down Jeongguk’s distancing form. When he spots the film camera in his hand, it’s like two puzzle pieces clicking into place inside his brain.

He feels oddly breathless again all of a sudden, the sun suddenly scalding on his chest and his face.

“Ignore me,” Jeongguk says, and he must be blissfully unaware of just how impossible that is. “Act as if I’m not here.”

Taehyung almost has a mind to tell him that that’s not how it works, that’s not how you take good pictures, it’s always a combined effort by model and photographer, but his voice is somewhere lost in his throat and he can’t seem to find it. So instead, he keeps his mouth shut and obliges; brings one leg up on the table with him and stretches out the other, averts his eyes and turns his head halfway, brings his shoulders the slightest bit up.

The noise of the camera is equal parts relief and disappointment.

“Perfect.”

Taehyung prays the sun will swallow him up whole.

***

They make use of the good lighting to capture a few more moments on film, Jeongguk begrudgingly agreeing to letting Taehyung take his picture too for a change. Immediately, with Jeongguk smiling shyly at him through the lens, Taehyung gets the appeal. If that is the view, he might stay behind the camera for a while.

A bit later, they decide to elevate the adventure factor in their content by taking one of the pedal boats for a short ride. Before setting foot on the crimson nutshell, Taehyung makes them both cross their hearts and hope to die, promising a stalemate for the time they’re in this close vicinity to the lake.

He gets to hold Jeongguk’s hand again for another picture, and he bursts into a fit of genuine laughter when Jeongguk trails his fingers through the calm water and one particularly greedy fish tries to eat them.

“Well, that’s what you get for being such a snack!” Taehyung says before he can stop himself.

Jeongguk glares at him in a way that’s clearly not meant to be serious, the corners of his mouth twitching. And then he brings his hand up between them and wiggles it, splashing Taehyung with lake water.

This definitely counts as a violation against their stalemate, as Taehyung argues, and they spend the entire way back to the Honeymoon Lodge bickering about it.

Dinner is already set up in the living room, delicious smells filling the space. They sit down to eat and let the day wind down around them. Jeongguk is mostly quiet, but he doesn’t give any snappy remarks whenever Taehyung tries his shot at little bits and pieces of smalltalk, which Taehyung counts as a personal success.

Out the back on the veranda, there’s a small round table and two outdoor chairs placed next to the jacuzzi, two long-stemmed glasses and a bottle of what Taehyung recognises as ridiculously expensive red wine.

Personally, he’s more a white or rosé type of guy, but he sure as hell isn't going to complain.

When Jeongguk excuses himself to the bathroom presumably to change into comfortable loungewear, Taehyung takes the opportunity, stripping down to his underwear (given the fact he’s never put his undershirt back on to begin with, there isn’t much clothing left to go) and letting himself sink into the bubbling water.

He’s on his phone for a bit, glancing up from time to time to watch the sun gradually disappear. One after the other, stars twinkle to life, winking at him from their place so far above.

The wine is good, and he feels it settle somewhere deep within him, weighing him down pleasantly.

It’s almost completely dark by the time the backdoor of the lodge cracks open and Jeongguk, now clad in grey joggers and an oversized, white t-shirt, its sleeves long enough to swallow up half his tattooed arms.

“Wait, hold on, I can’t hear you.”

It takes a moment for Taehyung to understand he’s not the one being spoken to. Jeongguk has his right hand raised, phone pressed to his ear. The movement makes his shirt ride up just a little, not enough to catch a glimpse of his stomach but enough to kickstart Taehyung’s imagination.

“Okay, I think here’s better. – What? Okay no, hold on. – Now? Yeah, I think now is good.”

Careful as to not make too much noise, Taehyung sets his own phone down on the table next to his wine glass. He knows Jeongguk is aware he’s there, but he lets his body droop a little further into the hot water anyway.

“I haven’t been ignoring your calls, the service is just bad out here. – I’m not avoiding you, Ma!”

Taehyung feels his mouth tug into a small grin. Jeongguk drums the fingers of his free hand along the wooden railing around the veranda, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Um.” There’s a pause in which Jeongguk tilts his head back, further back, until he’s full on facing the sky. “Uh, yeah. Yes.”

One of his eyes closes reflexively and he flinches, holding the phone a couple centimetres away from his ear. Taehyung can’t hear anything except for his voice over the fizzing of the jacuzzi, but he imagines the high-pitched drone of Jeongguk’s mother’s voice.

“Ma,” Jeongguk tries. “Ma. Eomma. – I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I wasn’t– What? No, Pa doesn’t know. Why would I tell him about it but not you? – I’m not an Appa’s boy!”

Huffing a quiet laugh, Taehyung pushes up in his seat a little bit, putting one of his arms along the edge of the hot tub.

“It’s just–” Jeongguk clams his mouth shut, obviously interrupted by the voice on the other end of the line. He waits, head dropping to hypnotise his feet. “Like, um. A few weeks? Couple months?”

It’s not hard to put two and two together and figure out what the topic of the conversation is. There’s a stupid, completely unsolicited flutter in Taehyung’s chest.

“Yeah, Jin knows. – We’re not in cahoots with each other! What? – I told you I wasn’t keeping it a secret, it’s just still new, is all.” Jeongguk sighs deeply, turning on the spot and leaning his lower back against the railing, his free arm bent at an angle against the wood for more support. “I know, Ma, I know. – I am, I’m happy.”

Taehyung reaches for his glass of wine, just to have something to do with his hands. There’s a sort of melancholy to Jeongguk’s words that he can’t ignore.

“He’s, yeah. What? – Oh, Kim Taehyung. – Twenty-four. – I haven’t asked for his blood type, Ma.”

Pressing his lips against the glass, Taehyung barely suppresses a snort.

All of a sudden, Jeongguk’s eyes almost bulge all the way out of his skull. “Meet him?”

Taehyung stops. Stares. This seems to be spinning out of control rather quickly.

“I mean. I don’t know.” Jeongguk shrugs as if his mother can see him. “He is treating me right, Ma, that’s not what I– I just don’t know if it’s–”

He’s quiet for a long time, listening to the words spoken into his ear. Taehyung watches him open his mouth from time to time, trying to find a way in, but futile. His eyes wander, first over the exterior of the lodge and then towards Taehyung in the jacuzzi.

Taehyung doesn’t blink away.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says suddenly, voice carrying a little more firmness for the moment, but dropping back into a gentle rumble pretty much immediately. “Okay. Fine. – I don’t sound put out!”

He does. A little bit.

“We’ll come by for a visit,” he says, turning his back to Taehyung. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask him first, he has a work schedule as well. – Yeah, soon. I promise.”

Half a day of civility and now Taehyung’s meeting the parents. Wonderful. If they continue at this rate they’ll be married by the end of the week.

“Hm?” Jeongguk spins back around, stepping further to the right in an attempt to find a spot with better service. The frown dragging down his eyebrows appears much more amiable than Taehyung is used to. “Jin? What about him? – No, not that I– No, he’s not gatekeeping– Yes, that’s how you use that word, but please just… don’t.”

This time, it’s hard for Taehyung to keep his giggles quiet. It earns him a slither of Jeongguk’s attention, his stare burning on the naked skin visible to him over the edge of the jacuzzi.

Jeongguk presses his lips together and puffs his cheeks full of air, rolling his eyes a little exaggeratedly and gesturing at his phone. Taehyung hides his mouth behind one of his hands, but his laughter must still be apparent in his eyes, because Jeongguk narrows his own at him for a moment before smiling as well.

“I’m listening,” he says then. “I’m pretty sure Jin is not dating anyone and hiding it from you, Eomma. – I know. Yeah, I’ll tell him. – Okay. – I’m sorry! – Love you, too. Bye.”

As soon as he’s pressed the button to end the call, Jeongguk releases a dragged out noise that sounds equal parts like a groan and a whine. He stomps over to the jacuzzi, face adorable when twisted in a petulant pout, and reaches for the bottle of wine, filling up the empty glass almost to the brim.

Somehow, Taehyung manages not to instantly burst out laughing. He waits, watches Jeongguk’s throat move from below as he takes one, two, three sips of red wine, before he says, “AB.”

“What?” Jeongguk’s face twists, but he takes another, this time slower, gulp of wine.

“That’s my blood type.”

For a moment, Jeongguk looks at him mutely, then he flops down into the chair, the alcohol sloshing dangerously close to the brim of the glass. “Ugh!”

“That was so cute though!” This is absolutely the empty glass in Taehyung’s own hand speaking.

Jeongguk drags his left hand from his forehead down his face all the way to his chin. His voice is slightly muffled when he speaks next, “She used to never check the gossip papers. But I really shouldn’t be surprised she’s started doing it nowadays.”

The tendons in Jeongguk’s forearm move underneath all the ink when he brings his glass up to his lips yet again, and Taehyung is sort of hypnotised for a moment. Subconsciously, he’s begun moving closer, sliding along the wall of the hot tub, and it’s only when one of the massage jets blasts a strong stream of bubbles directly into his ribs that he snaps back into himself.

“You could explain the situation to her.” That’s a reasonable thing to say, right? Yeah. He doesn’t say a lot of reasonable things very often, but this is definitely one of them. “It’s your family, I don’t think that’s a problem. Especially given that your brother’s in the know as well.”

“Technically, it’d still count as a violation of the contract.” Jeongguk makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, and Taehyung is seriously about to take his glass away from him, because that wine is way too expensive to be spilled. “And trust me, Jin’ll be the first to remind me of that. But even if I explained the whole thing, you still couldn’t get out of meeting my parents. That’s just the way they are, and I really should have known.”

“Do they still live in Busan, your parents?” Taehyung reaches one arm out of the tub to place his glass on the table.

“No,” Jeongguk says, a sheepish expression flitting over his face. He’s clearly trying to cover it up by drinking more wine. That, in turn, only seems to loosen his tongue more and more. “I… We weren’t seeing each other a lot back when I first got promoted to League 1 and we all kinda hated that. And I’ve always wanted to give something back to them. They’ve supported everything me and my brother have ever done. So I kind of… bought a house just outside Seoul for them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how it happened but Jeongguk just got ten times more attractive. Which, like, that’s bad, because he’s right there, and Taehyung is very almost-naked.

“Well, if you’re not the favourite child now…”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jeongguk leans back in his chair, his legs falling open a bit more to get comfortable. “They keep arguing they don’t pick favourites which is obviously bullshit.”

“Obviously,” Taehyung agrees, huffing a laugh.

“D’your parents still live in Busan?”

There’s something about this day, Taehyung thinks, something is shifting. Maybe it’s because it’s nighttime and they’ve had an exhausting day, or maybe it’s the fact they’ve been forced to spend time with each other nonstop, but their banter has gotten more and more playful as the hours passed, and now the conversation between them is flowing easily.

It almost makes Taehyung drop the walls he’s built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same city, same house. I haven’t bought them anything.”

And he’s not sure he would, ever. He’s not experienced nearly the same level of support Jeongguk had been able to count on, touring the entire country by himself at barely fifteen, trying to follow his dream one overcharged train ticket at a time.

“Plus I’m the oldest. So I’m definitely not the favourite child.”

Jeongguk takes another sip of wine before placing his glass next to Taehyung’s on the table. His cheeks look a little pink already, but that could also be a trick of the light. “You have siblings?”

Grumbling something akin to a yes, Taehyung shrugs. “Two. My sister’s fourteen and my brother’s ten. They’re like, actual babies. Make me feel ancient.”

It’s not like there are a lot of instances in which he gets reminded of their huge age gap. Since they’ve grown up enough to mostly fend for themselves during the day, the time the three of them spend together has exponentially decreased. Nowadays, Taehyung only knows them as well as a brother who’s been on the go pretty much their entire life and has acted as a substitute parent when he wasn’t can. 

And he doesn’t really know how to change that. Isn’t sure he wants to.

“Mid-twenties. Such a grandpa.”

Taehyung glares.

Jeongguk snorts.

More wine sounds like a great idea all of a sudden. Taehyung pushes a little further up in his seat to be able to reach over and pour some into his glass. Jeongguk beats him to it though, filling it up for him and handing it over.

It’s very hard not to let his hand linger when it brushes over Jeongguk’s tattooed knuckles.

“Anyway,” he says, partly to break the silence and partly to distract from the topic of his family. It’s not like he cries himself to sleep every night because his parents don’t support his dream and his father hasn’t spoken to him at all since the whole sex tape thing happened, but it still isn’t his favourite thing to discuss. “We for sure won’t have to worry about a meeting the parents scenario on that front.”

Sighing, Jeongguk lets his head hang back.

“God, I’ll get your mother to show me embarrassing childhood photos of you, and then I’ll use them as blackmail. I’m so hyped. When are we going?”

Through half-closed eyes, Jeongguk slides him a cutting look. But he relaxes almost immediately, rolling his head from side to side until his neck cracks. “The thing is that that is probably exactly what Ma’s gonna do. She’s been doing this thing, you know? Subtly asking about when I’ll get myself back out there and date someone new. Except she’s not subtle at all.”

“So…” Taehyung trails off for a minute, too cautious to rush things just in case that’ll cause Jeongguk to end the conversation right then and there. “You haven’t been dating? Like, at all?”

Jeongguk looks at him as if he’s grown a second head.

“I mean.” Taehyung bites his lip, thinking about his next words. “I know the divorce was finalised this year. But that obviously doesn’t happen overnight, so–”

“We broke up one and a half years ago.”

“And there’s been no one since then?”

“No.”

“Not even like, casual hookups?” Taehyung asks, trying to cover up the genuine interest in his voice by sipping on his wine.

“I’m not really one for casual anything.”

Taehyung can’t help but snort into his glass. “Okay. Sure Mister mouth-gag and I’ll-bend-you-over-the-bed-right-now.”

That lures a chuckle out of Jeongguk. It’s a short one, barely any sound. He’s staring at his stretched out feet as if they’re the most interesting thing in the entire universe, and it’s almost like Taehyung can see the wheels in his brain turn.

“I wasn’t really in a place for casual hookups,” he says quietly after another minute or two. “It’s like… the whole break up was such a process. It took me so long to realise and accept there was anything wrong at all, and then it still managed to somehow blindside me when I did. You know, my plan had kinda been to stay married forever. I can feel you looking at me weirdly – why?”

Taehyung blinks, averting his eyes. “Dunno. I guess I just can’t imagine this sort of commitment at such a young age. I mean, you must’ve proposed when you were a teen, right?”

There’s a tick in Jeongguk’s jaw. It takes him a while to answer, so long, Taehyung has already made peace with the fact that he won’t. “I was almost twenty.”

It feels like part of the pleasant heaviness in Taehyung’s belly is rising up into his chest and enveloping his heart. Like this, it feels a lot less nice.

“My parents are each other’s first love.” Jeongguk’s voice has dropped in volume; it sounds so tiny, it makes his whole person seem small. “They met in their first year of university. Ma wrote him love letters and Pa composed songs for her. And I just… I wanted that. But it turns out my first love wasn’t the one.”

There’s this overwhelming need to care again, a hundred times stronger than it had been at breakfast this morning. Taehyung wants to reach out, rub a conciliatory hand up and down Jeongguk’s arm, tell him he’s sorry.

But it doesn’t feel like Jeongguk needs his sympathy. It’s in the way his eyes are clear and free of any traitorous shine of wetness, in the way his shoulders are set, in the way he’s breathing calmly.

It’s in the past.

“Why did you guys break up?” Taehyung’s asked this question before, has thrown it into the conversation at a time it was least appropriate. Now, he feels genuine curiosity clinging to his words. The desire to understand, to actually get to know Jeongguk.

It doesn’t take Jeongguk as long to reply as Taehyung expected him to.

“It’s not something dramatic,” he says. “We just had different visions of our future together.”

It’s a bit weird; Jeongguk sounds simultaneously so much younger and so much more mature, talking like this. The explanation sounds almost analytical, a fact he had to grow to accept, but the way he says it carries a muted kind of pain.

Taehyung holds his wine glass close to the bubbling water of the hot tub and watches as the stem fogs up. He doesn’t want to winkle any information out of Jeongguk he doesn’t want to give willingly now that they’re actually talking to each other civilly, but his interest is more piqued than ever.

“The thing is…” Jeongguk stops and lifts his gaze, glancing up at the stars as if he hopes they could help organise his words. “Aerin’s never been a huge fan of the whole football thing.”

There’s this sudden sharp feeling in Taehyung’s chest. Something like immediate anger and defiance on Jeongguk’s behalf. It’s empathy, because Taehyung knows all too well what it’s like to have someone repeatedly try to take his dream away from him.

“It’s not like she tried to get me to stop or talked me out of going professional. She never did that.” 

Taehyung recognises the specific tone in Jeongguk’s voice. It’s not quite desperation, but close to it. This need to justify a person’s actions and opinions just because you loved them, he knows a thing or two about that.

“But my schedule got in our way a lot, and that was frustrating. We’d bought this house, but we wouldn’t be home at the same time very often. I’d be gone for matches abroad or training camps or something else. She didn’t want to quit her own job, even though I told her she could.” Jeongguk pulls both feet up on the chair with him, loosely hugging his knees to his chest. “In a way, I’m kind of glad for that. I never wanted her to give anything up in life to just be my wife, you know?”

It hurts Taehyung, a little bit, the kindness in his voice.

“And we made it work for some time.” He even smiles at that, the expression on his face a little dreamy as he thinks back to easier times, his head leaned sideways against his legs. “We went on a lot of little trips, whenever we could. Aerin tried not to focus on the media following us whenever we went on dates. I tried to make dinner for us at least once a week. Stuff like that. It was fine. It was all fine.”

Not really knowing what to reply to that, Taehyung takes a small sip of his wine, eyes never leaving Jeongguk. It’s more than obvious that fine is not how the two of them ended up.

“And then she wanted a baby.”

Taehyung chokes on his wine.

Jeongguk grins weakly at his little coughing fit, wrinkled nose and all, but there’s this sadness etched deeply into his features shining through ever so slightly.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung leans further over the edge of the jacuzzi to get his glass to safety. Jeongguk lets go of his own legs and takes it from him, placing it on the table.

“And you didn’t.”

“I want to,” Jeongguk says with sudden certainty. “Like, in general, I mean. Definitely. I wanted kids with her in the same way I wanted to marry her. I was so sure about it. But I wasn’t… am not ready to take that step just yet.”

Taehyung places his chin on his forearm along the wall of the tub, listening intently. 

Leaning back in his seat, Jeongguk crosses his arms in front of his chest, hugging himself. “Like, call me silly or naive, but I wanna be there for my kid. I don’t want them to grow up and only know me as their appa who only plays football all the time. I want to be home with them, watch them take their first steps and say their first words, catch it all on video, and then be super annoying about it to literal strangers who didn’t ask and don’t care.”

That’s it, Taehyung is done. He’s become one with the water, or that’s at least how he feels. Completely melted.

It’s only partly the mental image of Jeongguk with a small child in his arms, he realises, and more the fact of how sure and confident he sounds in what he wants in his life as well as the ability to communicate it clearly and stand by it.

It’s hot.

Taehyung blinks. Now’s not the time.

“But not yet. I don’t want to stop playing professional football yet. I don’t want to go down to another league yet. There’s another World Cup I wanna play, and another one after that, and then, maybe. I can’t really imagine me doing anything else for now.”

“I get that.” To Taehyung, the prospect of children is so far in the future, he finds it a little laughable to even imagine himself as a father at this point.

Jeongguk meets his eyes and lingers. He nods. Shrugs. “So we talked about that. A lot.”

Sucking a deep yet shallow breath into his lungs through his nose, Taehyung banishes each and all domestic thoughts about Jeongguk and babies from his brain. It takes a moment to hook himself to the red thread of the conversation, a failed marriage, again.

“It turned into the whole thing of us trying to find a compromise. I said I was gonna play until I’m thirty and then retire to become a full-time dad and when she didn’t like that I said twenty-eight. But she didn’t want to wait that long.”

“That long?” Taehyung can’t help but blurt out.

“I know,” Jeongguk says. “It’s… I probably would have let her talk me into having a baby right away, to be honest. But then she kept saying we weren’t a real family until we had a child together. And that’s…”

“Bullshit?” Taehyung supplies, immediately pressing his lips together tightly when he realises he might be a tad tactless.

But Jeongguk’s face does the thing where it lights up and his eyes go all big. “Yeah! Exactly! That’s bullshit!”

Involuntarily, Taehyung lets out a giggle. Sweet relief makes his heart flutter when Jeongguk returns it. He could get used to this honesty and lightheartedness between them.

“I guess that was sort of the breaking point.” One of Jeongguk’s feet falls back to the ground with a dull thud when he shifts in his chair, turning halfway to retrieve his glass and swallow what’s left of the wine. “We fought a lot after that, and every fight eventually brought us back to it. Until we both couldn’t take it anymore.”

It’s difficult for Taehyung to wrap his head around all of it, all the things Jeongguk has gone through when he was younger than young, and how he’s sitting here now, a trace of a smile left on his lips.

“Do you know where she is now?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as he brings his other foot down as well. His fingers tap along the armrests of his chair. “I haven’t seen her in about a year. She got to keep the house, so she’s either still living there or she sold it, I don’t know.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I don’t.” Shaking his head, Jeongguk pushes up from his seat. There’s no finality to the movement though, and he’s not going very far – on the contrary, he’s stepping closer to the jacuzzi. Taehyung straightens up slightly, shifting so that he’s facing Jeongguk as he peers over the edge of the tub. “Like I said, it took me a long time to accept it, but now I mostly look back at it as a time I have a lot of fond memories of, but also a time that has ended.”

Taehyung can’t help but be impressed with Jeongguk’s maturity. None of his exes have gotten a review and treatment anywhere as nice as Jeongguk’s ex-wife.

“And do you still love her?” The polaroid in Jeongguk’s wallet comes to mind.

Both hands leaned against the jacuzzi, fingers dipping into the hot water, Jeongguk halts. He turns his head, and it’s not that he’s all the way up in Taehyung’s space, not like he’s been a few hours before, but he’s still close, looking at him with a gaze weighed down by the glass of wine he had.

“No.”

Taehyung can’t look away. Now that he knows all this about Jeongguk, it’s sort of like the magnetism between them has amplified. Which is sort of the opposite of what Taehyung is used to happening, so it’s safe to say he’s severely out of his depth here.

“I’m… I can’t imagine being in your place and having to go through all this. It must’ve sucked. I’m really sorry.”

The honesty and candour in Taehyung’s voice is unexpected to both of them, and Taehyung almost scrambles to take it all back, transform it into a silly joke somehow, but then Jeongguk’s eyes widen a little and his mouth falls open, and seeing Jeon Jeongguk speechless is worth every single one of his apprehensions.

“Thank you.”

Taehyung nods, still unable to look away.

Bending down further, Jeongguk places his elbows on the jacuzzi’s edge. Like this, their faces are level with one another. “Did you know,” his voice is conspiratorially quiet, “that you’re not supposed to stay in here for longer than fifteen minutes? Your hands look like raisins.”

This does the trick. Taehyung’s eyes snap down towards his hands, both floating in the water somewhere close to his chest, and Jeongguk’s right, the skin is all wrinkly. Instead of retorting something verbally, though, he gets an idea.

Blinking back up, he smirks devilishly at Jeongguk – and then he splashes a generous amount of water in the direction of his face.

Jeongguk stumbles back, a tangled up mix of protest and curses stumbling out of his mouth.

Taehyung holds his belly, laughing. “That was payback for earlier!”

***

After rinsing off in the shower and changing into his favourite pyjama set, Taehyung finds Jeongguk curled up in the corner of the couch. He’s put a hoodie on, its hood drawn up and the sleeves pulled over his hands, and he’s watching some animated movie on the tv placed in one corner.

Taehyung quickly recognises it as some version of Spiderman, and when Jeongguk doesn’t immediately fling a pillow at him, he decides to stick around for a couple minutes.

A couple minutes turn into an hour turns into both of them falling asleep at the climax of the film. During the night, Taehyung wakes up once to snuggle further into a blanket he doesn’t remember draping over himself and hug one of the throw pillows to his chest.

In the morning, there’s a knock at the door startling the two of them out of their peaceful state of unconsciousness. Taehyung sits up, immediately trying to locate the source of the noise, while Jeongguk has to fight his way out of the mountain of pillows he’s slept buried under first.

Momentarily distracted by the look of Jeongguk’s face all cutely scrunched up and tired, Taehyung only remembers there might be a burglar coming for them when the knocking sounds again.

It turns out to be Kai bringing them a picnic basket filled with breakfast goods, the smile on his face much too bright for the hour of the day. Taehyung thanks him in what he hopes is the politest way possible before quite literally slamming the door in his face because he’s not the most dexterous person at ass o’clock in the morning.

They eat their food with eyes still half closed and then lazily proceed to get dressed one after the other.

The day goes by in another flurry of camera flashes, smiles forced and real, outfit changes, and bickering. Jeongguk has developed this really annoying habit of poking Taehyung in the ribs whenever he least expects it, and Taehyung hasn’t quite figured out an attack of his own yet.

Around lunch, they take a break. Taehyung is convinced he deserves to take advantage of the spa treatments offered in a slightly bigger hut down the forest path and he’s so relaxed to his very core afterwards that not even Jeongguk’s verbal (and now physical, too) jabs faze him.

They decide to pack before dinner arrives. Taehyung is upstairs making sure his skincare is stowed away in his suitcase, listening to Jeongguk hum along to a song playing from his phone in the living room.

It feels like they’ve done all they could, compiling hundreds and hundreds of pictures and videos between their respective devices, and scrolling through his camera roll, Taehyung has to actively stop himself from playing some of the videos to relive certain moments.

“Hey, Jeon, can you come up here again?”

“Fuck off,” Jeongguk’s voice sounds. Apparently the flutter in Taehyung’s chest is a natural response to it now, which he decides is a problem for another time. “I was about to absolutely own the chorus!”

“Sorry I destroyed your dreams of becoming an honorary Twice member. I’ll make it up to you.”

The music downstairs fades. Shortly after, there are footsteps on the stairs. “Yeah, how? Are you gonna dive into that frog pond, because that’s absolutely something I’d like to see.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes in a semi circle and lets them land on Jeongguk’s head poking through the trapdoor opening. “Might kiss one of them and find me a better prince than you.”

“Ouch, I’m heartbroken.”

“Sound like it, too,” Taehyung returns sarcastically. “You better dial up those acting skills, I need another video.”

“Another one?” Jeongguk whines but climbs up the remaining stairs. “Why do you need so many, what are you even gonna do with them?”

Clutching his phone in his hand, Taehyung pushes up from the ground. “Look. This trip never happened if I don’t make a reel of it and post it to Instagram.”

Jeongguk doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he steps further into the room. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

The sudden heat rushing into Taehyung’s cheeks seems to evaporate every single one of his remaining brain cells, because all he can do is stare mutely at Jeongguk while his mouth opens and closes like a dying fish desperate for any body of water.

The worst part about it all is that the corners of Jeongguk’s mouth are tugging into that knowing smirk again. Maybe it wasn’t such a smart idea to get amicable with him, that fucker knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Over there.” Taehyung gestures toward the foot of the bed.

Hands buried in the pockets of his cargo pants, Jeongguk dutifully saunters over.

Taehyung spends a good minute messing up the sheets so it looks as if they’ve spent the majority of the past couple days tangled up in them and setting up his phone against a small stack of decorative coffee table books on top of one of the drawers, making sure their bodies will be in shot fully. The deep orange early-evening light falls in at a low angle, little dust particles dancing in it like stardust.

He starts the video before walking over to Jeongguk and positioning himself in front of him. With his heart hammering in his chest, he looks him dead in the eye.

“Kiss me.”

Jeongguk gapes at him, clearly stunned.

“Okay, okay, no need to jump out of your skin in excitement!” Taehyung makes a calming gesture between them. “Just make it look like it, whatever. But stop looking like you’d rather spit in my face, that’s for where the audience can’t see.”

All of a sudden, one of Jeongguk’s hands closes around his hip, yanking him forward, eliminating the mere step of distance between them. The other, he brings up, cupping Taehyung’s jaw with it and digging his thumb into his bottom lip.

“Like this?” he murmurs as he leans in, and Taehyung can feel his breath fan over his face, can almost feel their noses nudging together.

It takes everything in him not to act, to push forward or flinch back, just make it natural, hold the pose.

“Yeah.” Taehyung brings his arms up, lets his hands smooth over Jeongguk’s arms, shoulders, all the way into the hair at the back of his neck. He buries them there, grip a little rougher than strictly necessary. “Sorry, I get quite handsy when I kiss.”

Jeongguk hums lowly, dragging his thumb down from Taehyung’s lip with the slightest bit of pressure, just enough to get him to open his mouth a little bit, and Taehyung swears he can almost feel their mouths brushing together, can almost taste him on his tongue.

“You think you got it?”

Reluctantly, Taehyung’s eyes wander to the phone taking their video. The rest of his body stays perfectly still. “Yeah, think so.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Yeah.”

The way Jeongguk’s grip loosens and eventually falls off him is routine by now. But it still leaves him feeling oddly cold every time.

***

The drive back is mostly quiet and as peaceful as Taehyung suspects it’s ever going to get between the two of them. Jeongguk drops him off at his place, and spends their parting minutes complaining that Taehyung should be more careful loading his suitcase out the backseat of the car.

“You know,” Taehyung tells him, one hand at the top of the passenger door as he stands on the pavement and leans halfway back into the car. “You’re gonna miss me.”

“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t.”

He does his best to laugh it off, but the truth is that he does feel a bit disappointed by the fact that he’s got no idea when he’ll see Jeongguk next.

It’s kind of infuriating. Wasn’t that the whole purpose of their time off together? Take pictures to feed the public so they wouldn’t have to spend so much time together?

Taehyung swallows thickly.

“Text me when you get inside.”

Despite knowing exactly what his neighbourhood looks like with all its streetlamps and lit shop windows even during nighttime, Taehyung throws a quick look over his shoulder before raising his eyebrows at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk, however, doesn’t react to his own words in any way.

“Drive safe.”

Jeongguk huffs a short laugh. “Always do.”

“No sudden u-turns like yesterday.”

“You liked it.”

“I didn’t like shit.”

Shaking his head with a small smile on his lips, Jeongguk adjusts in his seat. “Good night, Taehyung.”

“Night, Jeon.”

Once the door is slammed shut, Taehyung spends an embarrassingly large amount of time standing at the edge of the road, staring after Jeongguk’s car. He only remembers where he is and where he should go when another vehicle honks and the people inside whistle at him through an open window.

Dragging his suitcase along, he trots into his apartment building and texts Jeongguk once he’s made it to his floor. And then he puts his phone in work mode, determined to get his mind off the man for at least a little while.

Maybe it’s good he doesn’t know when they’ll see each other next. If he’s learned one thing over the past thirty-six hours, it’s that Jeon Jeongguk is significantly more dangerous than he’d thought.

He’s also significantly more irresistible.

So Taehyung sets his mind into work mode as well. He can’t afford the messy feeling in his head and heart to slow him down. There are pictures to edit, short videos to cut and put into order, and feedback from castings to wait on.

He’s busy.

He’s busy until, not even two days later, he refreshes his Instagram timeline and a new post from @jeonjeongguk pops up.

And then it’s all back all of a sudden. The blush on his cheeks, the pounding of his heart, the shortness of breath.

It’s a picture of a small pile of grainy, printed out photos on a dark surface. Taehyung can find himself in every single one of them: On the picnic table at the lake with his back toward the camera; leaning against the counter in the Honeymoon Lodge’s kitchen, hands wrapped around a mug of tea; with puffed cheeks at the breakfast table; and, of course, cuddling Jeongguk.

The photo primarily in focus, the one not overlapped by others, is the one of Taehyung staring directly at the camera, fingers seducingly touched to his mouth.

With his stomach performing a whole gymnastics routine low in his belly, he stares at the post’s caption.

saw your face and got inspired 🤍

Chapter Text

@00nami THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN

@snflrgrdn 💗💖💕💕💗

@girlyghostiegigi That kiss at the end HELLO?? 😭

@jjeongguk7_fanpage this video is everything 🙌

@shluuzy no bc this AND jeongguk’s latest post?? oh they’re in LOVE love

↳ @tigersje0n @shluuzy Yeah ok but literally who wouldn’t be in love with Jeongguk 😩

↳ @00nami @tigersje0n or with tae?? just look at himmm

@goodeggjack my man jeongguk rly keeps winning 🔥 #goals

@tunedIN.kr √ 😍

@shutupzac_ so does this mean we’re getting another sex tape lol

↳ @00nami @shutupzac_ you need to have a look at your username ❤️

A bundle of heavy, dense fabric hits Taehyung sideways against the head. It drops immediately, and he has to scramble to keep it from falling to the floor, almost dropping the phone in his hands in the process.

“Why.”

“Your social media addiction was kicking.”

“I’m not addicted,” Taehyung argues, fumbling with the piece of clothing in his arms. “This is my job.”

“Oh.” Jimin pushes up from the mountain of chaos that is Taehyung’s bed and snorts. “Trust me, I know exactly what your job is, and it’s not swooning over the comment section of the reel you made about your and Jeongguk’s stay in the woods.”

Okay, so maybe that video has half a million views, and maybe half of those have been contributed by yours truly, Taehyung himself.

It’s been almost ten days and not thinking about Jeongguk has been going great.

That is until, a few days ago, Taehyung’s phone had lit up with a message at fuck o’clock at night, pulling him right out of his binge watch of some drama he’d immediately forgotten the plot of upon looking at the screen.

Jeongguk had texted him. 5 pm on sunday?  

Squinting against the brightness of his screen, Taehyung had replied, is this a booty call?

After being left on read for a full two minutes (during which he had stood up and started pathetically pacing through the living room), Jeongguk had graced him with another message: oh yeah totally

Taehyung had stared at the message for a long time, imagination running wild. Luckily, before he could embarrass himself, the rational part of his brain had kicked back into gear. i know you’re being sarcastic

clever boy, Jeongguk had replied, and then, dinner at my parents’ house on sunday. i’ll pick you up.

So, that happened, and Taehyung hasn’t slept peacefully ever since. 

Whatever he’d expected from this staged relationship, it sure as hell wasn’t a meeting the parents scenario, and what tops it all off, what makes it so much worse, is that he’s feeling way more eager than he probably should.

Now, it’s Sunday afternoon and all that secret excitement has led to a full on crisis induced by the fact that he owns no clothes whatsoever. There’s a walk-in closet right in front of him, and it somehow only contains trousers that make his butt appear either nonexistent or too perky, shirts that fit all wrong, and shoes that look like he’s trying too hard.

Maybe he should face the facts: he just isn’t meeting-the-parents material.

Hoseok, who’s sat leaning against the growing pile of jeans on Taehyung’s mattress, has been commenting on every single outfit he’d tried with a mute thumbs-down gesture.

Which isn’t exactly encouraging.

“I’m not swooning,” Taehyung finally says, placing his phone screen down on a drawer that’s holding the three shirts that didn’t make him want to barf today. “And I can’t wear these leather pants, Jimin, what are you thinking?”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, cocking his hip out. “I’m thinking,” he says, “that you should embrace your inner hoe with these. Better they know at first glance what their son brought home.”

With his mouth half open, Taehyung gapes at his best friend, mild offence sweeping the retort off his tongue. Jimin raises his eyebrows at him as if to prompt him into an argument knowing he’ll come out winning.

“That was mean.” Taehyung tries to pout, but the corners of his mouth are twitching traitorously.

“Maybe, but not a lie.”

“Jimin!”

“Oh please.” Jimin waves his hand dismissively through the air. “I say it lovingly, babe. Be a slut, do whatever you want.”

“I feel like there is a running contract that forbids me to do exactly that,” Taehyung throws in.

From the bed, Hoseok snaps the fingers of the hand that isn’t busy scrolling on his phone into finger guns, pointing in Taehyung’s general direction as if to support him in making this case clear.

“I guess you have a point in that.” Jimin puffs air into his cheeks for a moment before releasing it in one big, motivational exhale. “Since when are you the responsible one out of the two of us?”

Taehyung grins. “Since I bullied you into actually taking the weekends off.”

“And see where that got us.” Spreading his arms away from his body, Jimin spins a quick circle in the middle of the mess that is Taehyung’s bedroom. “Inside a fucking Y2K fashion dumpster.”

“Jimin, please.” This time, Taehyung succeeds in pouting. He even goes as far as letting his head fall slightly back and adding just the right amount of whining to his voice. “You’re not helping. I can’t wear these.” He wiggles the trousers in his hands.

“I think you should try them on,” Hoseok’s voice sounds from the bed.

At once, both Taehyung and Jimin halt in their respective movements. 

It’s not like Hoseok’s moved an inch or even as much as looked in their direction, but it’s the first slightly hopeful thing he’s said all afternoon, and it’s honestly stupid how even the tiniest hint of affirmation rekindles a fire in Taehyung’s heart.

Jimin purses his lips, exchanging a quick look with Taehyung. Mirroring the expression on his best friend’s face, Taehyung shrugs. The reply he gets is a hasty nod and a shooing hand gesture.

Without much further ado, he spins back into his closet and gets to work.

The trousers are softer and more comfortable than they look and they fit like a glove, clinging to his body like a second skin. As he’s pulling up the fly, an arm reaches blindly into the small room, holding out a black shirt for him.

Deciding not to question it, Taehyung throws it over his head and tucks the hem loosely into the front of the trousers. The shirt’s neckline is wide enough to threaten to slip off one of his shoulders, drawing attention to his collarbones and throat.

It’s definitely not something he should be wearing tonight, but it is a look.

Biting his lip, he shuffles back into his bedroom.

As soon as he sees him, Jimin sucks in a sharp breath and lets it back out in a whistle. “Okay, okay. I see you. This is something.”

“How do you feel?” Hoseok disregards his phone to the side – Taehyung prays it won’t be lost in the tangle of jeans forever – and scoots to the edge of the mattress, gaze intent on Taehyung.

“Good, I guess. But I can’t wear this.”

“Hm.” Hoseok curls his mouth to the side, considering Taehyung’s reply. And then he shakes his head. Shrugs. There’s a glint in his eye. “Well, surely not with that attitude.”

Respectfully, Taehyung has no idea what that means. 

“What if I made you wear it?” Hoseok asks, tone sharp and calculated. It’s a challenge. It’s a dare. He’s daring Taehyung. “It’s your job, Tae,” he adds, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning back ever so slightly. “Sell it to me.”

For just a moment, a blip in time that somehow contains the first twenty years of his life, Taehyung feels slightly lost. But then he meets Hoseok’s gaze, spots the familiar underlying reassurance and kindness in them, and then he remembers who he is.

With growing experience, Taehyung’s learned to find his footing quickly, no matter what is asked of him. He’s a fast learner, even faster at adapting, fastest at pushing his inner voice of doubt down into a meek whisper to convince the people around him that he’s worth it.

Fake it till you make it, and you eventually will. Just don’t give up.

His shoulders roll back on their own accord. Nose a little further up to the ceiling, he takes a calming breath, pushing his chest out just a little bit.

Hoseok is right, even without straight up calling him out on it. This is just another job, a minuscule detail in the bigger picture of it all, and he needs to stop regarding it with this dumb sense of sentimentality and care.

Jeongguk’s parents might be important to him, and the more time Taehyung spends thinking about that, the further the dull yet paralysing heaviness that comes from wanting something you’ll never have no matter how much you try, how often you decide against giving up, again and again, spreads in his chest – but.

He can’t afford this. He’s come this far, and he’s not going to take a step back now or ever.

It’s his work. The clothes he’s wearing don’t matter in the grand scheme of things, not in the way they look or how they are or aren’t considered appropriate given the setting – what counts is that he sells them, that he sells himself.

In the blink of an eye, his whole posture changes. Every muscle is back under control, trimmed to follow this one task.

“So,” Hoseok prompts, the promise of a grin on his lips. “Who are you again?”

Taehyung holds his gaze, lets a wave of quiet confidence wash through him all the way from his head and into the very tip of every one of his limbs. And then he says, as if the rest of the room doesn’t know already, “Kim Taehyung.”

Quiet for one, two seconds – and then Hoseok claps in delight.

Relaxing in his stance, Taehyung returns the happy smile. He isn’t shy about these things anymore, not since he learned what exactly he can do with the right facial expression at the right time, but he really needed this confidence boost, it seems.

Jimin plops down next to Hoseok on the bed. “God, I love when you do that thing with your eyes.” He moves the palm of his hand in a vague circulating motion in front of his face. “It’s like, one moment you're my sweet Taetae, and then the next, boom, Kim Taehyung. Professional. It’s the reason I work with you.”

“Hey. Come on.” Taehyung pushes his bottom lip out, but he feels the compliment strike home right in the middle of his chest where his ego resides. “I have other qualities apart from that.”

“I said it’s the reason I work with you,” Jimin says. “Not the reason why we’re friends.”

And somehow, that makes it even better.

“You guys know what,” he says, stepping from one foot to the other. “I think I know exactly what I’m gonna wear.”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Jimin whoops loudly. Hoseok’s radiant grin melts into something more private, and the nod he gives Taehyung is full of something that looks so much like pride and faith, it makes him a little dizzy.

Despite the rocky start of his career, he might just be the luckiest person in the business, what with friends like these.

Taehyung isn’t the best when it comes to words as it is, and articulating something complex and tangled like his feelings is especially hard, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t desperate for the people he’s closest to to know how important they are to him. Some nights he spends lying awake, one thought spiral chasing the next, and he wonders when and, possibly more importantly, how he’ll be able to return their unconditional acceptance and belief.

He blinks a few times, fast. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for now, he surges forward towards the bed. He hits one of his knees on the frame as he leans down, but not hard enough to keep him from smothering both Jimin and Hoseok in a bone crushing hug.

“Proud of you,” Hoseok says, and it’s astonishing, isn’t it, how well attuned he is to his emotions and how easily he can voice them. With one hand, he ruffles Taehyung’s hair.

Jimin knocks the side of his head lightly against Taehyung’s temple. “Don’t go too hard on whatever outfit you have in mind, you don’t want them to actually adopt you as their son-in-law.”

Laughing a laugh that sounds just a little wet, Taehyung lets go of them both. He probably looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of his own bedroom looking like he’s about to live it up at a concert or a club downtown, with his eyes damp and his heart so full of love.

“Thank you,” he says, and he hopes his friends know him well enough to understand what he means.

Jimin’s features soften at once. “Aw, of course, babe. Now go and get ready.”

The regained confidence settles in its familiar spot somewhere deep inside Taehyung. He sucks back the mushy feelings pressing up his throat, keeps them stowed away but not forgotten in his chest, and squares his shoulders.

Giggles fill the room as he salutes his friend like a dutiful soldier before turning sharply on his heel.

Back in his closet, he forces himself to take a few deep breaths. He really does have an outfit that might work perfectly in mind now, and he hopes it won’t take him too much time to find it.

Suddenly panicked, he rushes back to the door and grabs his phone from the drawer next to it. Relief floods through him when one look at the screen tells him there’s still over an hour to go until Jeongguk will pick him up.

And that gets him an idea.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the swooping of his stomach down to no avail.

And then he thinks, fuck it, and opens the camera app on his phone.

His reflection in the full body mirror at the end of the room really looks so far removed from any version of him that would be allowed anywhere around in-laws, and now, with his ego built back up to where it usually is, it makes him smirk.

The photo taken, he attaches it to a text message.

Taehyung
[image attached]
this ok?

He presses send before he can stop himself. Truly, he isn’t sure where this will get him. His and Jeongguk’s dynamic has shifted ever so slightly during their stay in the Honeymoon Lodge, so much so that Taehyung can’t say anymore whether this is a good idea or not.

The frantic beating of his heart holds the suggestion of an answer to that, but he chooses to ignore it.

To his surprise, Jeongguk’s reaction is immediate.

Molden Boy
no

Taehyung bites his lip nervously. His shaky fingers hover above the keyboard pulled up on screen, unsure.

But then another message pops up.

Molden Boy
you look too sexy

It’s stupid, the grin spreading on Taehyung’s face is, and the flutter in his chest and his somersaulting stomach.

It’s stupid, he’s stupid, and in that moment, he does not care.

***

If it wasn’t clear before, it is clear now: Jeon Jeongguk is officially the worst, most annoying, most infuriating person on the planet. Taehyung’s butt hasn’t even touched the expensive material of the passenger seat yet, and he already wants to slap him across the face. Hard.

“Are you seriously wearing sweatpants?”

Jeongguk, both hands on the steering wheel, blinks at him innocently. He’s the worst actor in the entire universe. “Why, is that a problem?”

It’s gonna happen. It’s gonna happen tonight. Taehyung will finally kill him.

He’s spent the better part of four hours obsessing over what to wear, and now that he’s finally found the perfect fit – a comfortable charcoal linen suit and his best loafers combined with a white v-neck and delicate jewellery for a balanced look – Jeongguk has the audacity to pick him up wearing gym clothes.

“I thought we’re meeting your parents!” At last, Taehyung lets himself fall down onto the seat and pulls the door shut after him (with a little more force than strictly necessary, and he notices Jeongguk’s brief displeased flinch at the loud smash with absolute fucking delight).

“We are,” Jeongguk says, setting the blinker to merge back onto the street outside Taehyung’s apartment building. His voice sounds all calm and collected, and it’s only fuelling the hot rage burning up the inside of Taehyung’s throat.

“Then why the hell do you look like you just rolled off a fucking bench press?”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

Taehyung glares at him, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

All Jeongguk does is hold his gaze, completely unfazed. He almost looks bored, even, raising one eyebrow as if he’s about to ask if Taehyung is seriously going to throw a temper tantrum like a five-year-old right now.

It seems like he might.

Except, here’s the thing: Taehyung is down really bad. He hasn’t seen Jeongguk in over a week except for in the pictures he’s slowly unleashing to his Instagram feed, and he’s kind of forgotten how disarmingly handsome he is, sweatpants be damned.

Begrudgingly, he clicks his seatbelt into place.

Without another word, Jeongguk revs up the engine and navigates the car onto the street. They’re in the sleek black one again, the one they took out to the treehouses, and Taehyung is about to ask if it’s going to be a longer drive, but then he remembers, oh right, he’s mad.

“I thought this was important,” he all but grumbles but makes sure there’s enough venom in his voice to poison Jeongguk over the middle console.

“It’s dinner with my parents, not the president.” Jeongguk huffs one of his condescending laughs and this time, it actually manages to hit Taehyung where it stings. “But I’m sure they’ll appreciate that you got all dolled up for them.”

Taehyung cuts him another look, but it lacks the usual acidity. He feels like a dumb child in the passenger seat, like an outsider of the inside joke that is his own life, and everyone is laughing, and he’s shrinking, shrinking, shrinking.

When there’s no biting comeback, Taehyung feels Jeongguk throw a quick glance his way. One of his hands is draped over the steering wheel, the other loosely in his lap, and there’s still this annoying trace of amusement on his face and in his voice when he says, “Hey.”

Turning his head, Taehyung stares straight out the windshield, focussing on nothing but the tail light of the vehicle in front of them flare up in an admonishing red as it slows down at a red light.

“Hey,” Jeongguk tries again, tone a smidge more conciliatory.

Taehyung doesn’t react. The quiet, rhythmic ticking of the blinker adds an odd, intermittent beat to the tranquil RnB trickling from the speakers at the purple-lit dashboard.

“Hey.”

He feels it coming and manages to stop Jeongguk’s finger before it can poke him in the ribs. 

Next to him, Jeongguk huffs when Taehyung traps his finger, and it sounds like part enjoyment and part frustration. He squirms around a bit, wiggling his hand out of Taehyung's hold, and then he’s prodding the skin of Taehyung’s cheek.

“Hey.”

Taehyung gives up. Jerking his head to the side in an attempt at escaping Jeongguk, he snaps, “Oh my God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

After checking the light is still glowing bright red in front of them, freezing them in the queue of cars for a while longer, Jeongguk leans over a little more, his taunting index finger following Taehyung. “Stop moping.”

Taehyung slaps his wrist. “Fuck you.”

It’s like he can hear the smug smirk forming on Jeongguk’s face, he doesn’t even have to look.

“I hate you.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Finally, Jeongguk’s finger stops nudging his cheek, and for a moment, Taehyung thinks he’s won.

He’s wrong.

There’s the now almost familiar swipe of Jeongguk’s thumb, this time over his cheek near his jaw, and then Jeongguk is cupping his chin, gently forcing his head around.

Taehyung has half a mind to protest, to explain the meaning of the word no to him not with words but something that packs a lot more of a punch, but then Jeongguk presses the pad of his thumb into his bottom lip, and he’s close, so close that Taehyung can smell his honeysuckle scent and count his eyelashes one at a time.

“You look pretty,” Jeongguk tells him, gaze wandering up from Taehyung’s mouth to meet his eyes instead.

There’s nothing Taehyung can do. It’s like his brain completely disconnected itself from the rest of his body. He feels his body going slack, lips parting slightly against Jeongguk’s thumb, and he can do nothing but stare mutely.

“Don’t overthink it. You could show up in pyjamas and my parents wouldn’t care. They’re gonna like you.” Jeongguk sighs, moving his finger to the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. “And then it’s gonna be a pain for me to deal with when I’m finally rid of you.”

Frozen in place, there’s absolutely nothing Taehyung can do. If he was functioning like he normally is, this would be the time to start panicking, to start freaking out about the fact that he’s nothing but useless goo in the reality of Jeongguk’s hands – but he isn’t. His brain doesn’t work, and his body seems happy to do whatever he wants, following each and every one of Jeongguk’s unpredictable antics.

A loud, insistent honk tears through the peaceful afternoon. 

It seems like they’re both physically yanked from whatever dimension they just entered together. Jeongguk scrambles back in his seat, ramming the car back in drive mode and speeding around the corner so quickly, Taehyung feels like his stomach got left behind on the way.

He falls back in his seat, the air inside his lungs begging to be let out in pants as if he’d just run half a marathon. Jeongguk is the focus of his peripheral vision, the way his eyes are glued stoically to the road now, the hand that held Taehyung’s chin in place now clenched around the steering wheel, the other in his hair, nervously pushing it away from his forehead time and time again.

“So.” His voice is nothing but a mere croak. He clears his throat. “Basically what you’re telling me is that I could’ve worn the leather pants.”

Jeongguk swaps the hands on the steering wheel, and now the right one is dangling dangerously close to the middle console. “No,” he says, more to the road ahead than to Taehyung.

“You just said your parents wouldn’t think twice about me showing up in literal pyjamas, I really don’t get how tha–”

“I told you not to wear them for my own fucking sanity, Taehyung.”

Taehyung clamps his mouth shut. He shoves both his hands under his thighs, lest he might do something stupid like grab Jeongguk’s hand and put it in his lap. Intertwine their fingers. Kiss the ink on his knuckles.

Shit.

Of course he remembers the message Jeongguk sent him not even two hours ago. He already knows what he thought of the outfit – hell, it’s what he’s thought of the outfit himself. It’s just that actually hearing it, having it said directly to his face, hits different. He soaks it up like a dry sponge, insatiable.

Jeongguk’s eyes are focused on the road, his right forearm loosely draped over the narrow middle console separating them, fingers wiggling lazily in time with the beat of the music. God, Taehyung has never longed to hold anyone’s hand this badly, it’s like he’s freaking fifteen again.

But he holds himself back, digs his fingertips into the underside of each of his thighs. If Jeongguk’s compliments hold this much power over him, he doesn’t even want to begin imagining how much a rejection would hurt.

Abruptly, Jeongguk pulls his hand back. “Let’s just get tonight over with.”

***

When Jeongguk said he bought a house for his parents, what he meant was he spent more money than Taehyung has ever seen in his whole entire life on a luxury bungalow at the end of a lonely, tree-lined street.

The property is enclosed by a wall made of a mosaic of natural stone, here and there overgrown with ivy and other leafy plants. The wooden gate opens automatically as soon as Jeongguk’s car is in close enough vicinity, revealing a short driveway leading up to a carport garage next to the main building on the lot.

Jeongguk steers them into a free spot under the roof next to another shiny vehicle and switches off the engine. Taehyung feels him glance his way, but when he turns his head to meet him, Jeongguk is already fumbling with the door on his side, pushing it open.

Doing the same, Taehyung climbs out of the car. Summer has properly arrived by now, the humid early-July air trapped under the fine dust curtain hanging over the city. Before he can start to sweat, he quickly slips off his blazer and throws it over one of his arms, cradling it close to his torso as if it could do anything to protect him.

Jeongguk’s parents’ house is situated smack in the middle of the property, a clean cut one-storey home with a low sloping wooden roof and warm lights flickering behind the windows. It’s surrounded by trees and beds of wildflowers. A little further to the right, hidden almost all the way behind a few bushes, Taehyung spots a garden shed as well as a small greenhouse and beanstalks.

“My dad’s midlife crisis made him into a gardener,” Jeongguk jokes, following Taehyung’s gaze.

Turning his head, Taehyung finds him standing right next to him, a little too close by nature, clad in his sweatpants, ordinary t-shirt, and chunky trainers, and he really has no business looking this handsome, he really doesn’t.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung forces his brain into work mode. It’s not as easy as it used to be. The lines are a bit blurry these days. “Showtime, baby.”

Jeongguk snorts a weak laugh, and then his hand closes around Taehyung’s waist, a little firmer than Taehyung’s grown used to over the past couple of weeks, and he gently guides him up two stone steps towards the front of the house.

They don’t have to wait long for someone to answer the door. It swings open, and the woman beaming at them from the other side of the threshold is so obviously Jeongguk’s mother, it makes Taehyung’s stomach flip with nerves because what the fuck is he doing here.

Her nose scrunches up around a genuine smile just like her son’s, and the chin-length hair framing her face in gentle waves makes her seem younger than Taehyung would guess she actually is.

“Hello, you two!”

Taehyung feels Jeongguk’s hand squeeze his waist a final time before it trails along the small of his back as he lets go of him in order to step forward and greet his mother with a hug. 

“Hey, Ma,” he says as he shifts back again, turning around halfway to properly include Taehyung in the conversation. “This is Taehyung.”

“It’s so good to meet you, Taehyung.” To his surprise, she steps forward and embraces him in a short hug as well. “I must admit I haven’t heard very much about you. Jeonggukie’s been keeping you his little secret.”

“Ma…” Jeongguk does a little stomp from one foot to the other next to Taehyung, and Taehyung has to bite his bottom lip in order not to burst out into giggles. Hearing Jeongguk whine might be his new favourite thing.

He gives Jeongguk’s mother a dashing smile, the most charming one he has to offer. “Nothing that can’t be changed.”

“Deal.” She nods at him appreciatively, and she seems so genuine in her friendliness and hospitality, Taehyung feels a little bad for lying to her. “You can call me Yeonja, by the way. Come in, come in.”

It seems like Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice, quickly kicking his shoes off and leaving them toppled over on the little stone-tiled porch in front of the main door before quite literally sliding past his mother into the house. 

As he’s taking off his own shoes (and placing them neatly out of the way), Taehyung ignores the pang of affection in his chest. Jeongguk’s wearing those awful toe socks again, this time ones with a stripe-pattern, and they’re so weird and kind of ugly, and Taehyung also thinks he’s just really, really cute.

“No need to hurry,” Yeonja calls after her son. “Your father hasn’t finished cooking yet!” When Jeongguk doesn’t halt in his tracks – on the contrary, Taehyung sees him nearly slipping as he skips around a corner down the hallway – she shakes her head and rolls her eyes, fondness rendering her features soft. “This boy.”

Yeah, Taehyung thinks, sighing internally, this boy.

He follows her into the house a little more cautiously and allows her to take his jacket from him. The smell of a homemade dish sizzling away on the stove welcomes him happily. He tries to let his gaze wander without staring too much, but all the little details that make this house a home catch his eye anyway.

It’s not like his own parents’ house is a cold and impersonal cell, but he’s felt like a prisoner in it for so long anyway that he’s grown sort of detached from it. 

Now, this – this feels like domesticity personally slapped him in the face. The front door falls shut and he’s at once swallowed up by a bubble of warmth and a strange sense of unfamiliar familiarity. A collection of family pictures lining the sage-coloured wall opposite the front door. A stack of letters next to a bundle of discarded keys on top of a drawer. A yellow raincoat forgotten on the wooden shoe bench next to the entryway.

It’s easy enough to make polite smalltalk as she leads him towards what Taehyung presumes will turn out to be the kitchen; the smell of food is getting stronger with every step they take. She compliments his outfit and sounds like she actually means it – another little confidence boost on a day where he seems to need all of them – and Taehyung returns the sentiment by commending what he’s seen of the house so far.

The interior is mostly modern, which, knowing Jeongguk, isn’t at all surprising to Taehyung, but there are the occasional rustic touches against the rich colour of the hallway’s walls, like for example the weathered chest of drawers that looks like it might as well be a family heirloom passed down multiple generations.

Finally, they arrive in the kitchen, and it’s embarrassing, the way the words die on Taehyung’s tongue. It’s not very professional of him, but he sort of slumps sideways against the doorframe, barely managing to direct a weak noise of interest at whatever Jeongguk’s mother is saying.

Jeongguk has his back towards him where he’s standing next to a tall, broad-shouldered man in front of the stove. His hair looks messier than a minute ago, clearly ruffled by foreign hands, and it’s still a mystery to Taehyung how this man can be so many things at once seemingly without even realising it: the poster boy for husband material, a son who still feels most at home at his parents’ house, and the object of desire in every one of Taehyung’s most recent daydreams.

He watches as Jeongguk brings a spoon up to his mouth for a taste test, turning halfway to face who surely must be his father. Watches the t-shirt taper around his narrow waist. Watches the way his eyebrows draw together in a deep frown as he tries the food.

When he feels Yeonja’s gaze on him, he quickly snaps back into himself, taking one step further into the room, saying, “Whatever it is, it clearly passed as being a delicious success.”

“Mhm,” Jeongguk mumbles, face still set in anger as if the sauce personally offended him, his entire family, and all the people important to him. “Not sure. Gotta try aga–”

“Eh.” His father bats his hand away before he can dip the spoon back into the pot. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? Introduce your bo–”

He’s interrupted by Yeonja grabbing a dish towel from the nearby counter and chucking it at the spot between his shoulder blades. A laugh escapes him, higher in pitch than Taehyung would’ve expected, as he scrambles to catch the towel before it can tumble to the ground.

Jeongguk ducks his head, and if Taehyung didn’t know better he’d think there’s a faint dusting of pink colouring his cheeks.

“I’m Taehyung,” Taehyung speaks up before Jeongguk gets the chance to, bowing before extending a hand in the direction of Jeongguk’s father. “It’s good to meet you.”

Jeongguk’s father presses the wooden spoon he’d been holding into his son’s hand before returning Taehyung’s greeting.

“Jinsu.” He gestures briefly at himself. Taehyung notices he has the same kind, caring eyes he’s seen Seokjin regarding his younger brother with during their business meetings. For a moment, it seems like he wants to say something else, but then his eyes widen comically and he quickly darts the hand holding the towel out to a spot left of Taehyung. “Oi! Enough!”

Jeongguk, spoon in his mouth, dodges the snap of the towel and stumbles right into Taehyung’s side. Slightly perplexed, Taehyung wraps a hand around his hip to steady him, and then they’re suddenly very close, and Jeongguk smells like honeysuckle and bodywash and home, and his parents are right there, and it’s awkward but also not, and Taehyung is so, so very screwed.

“Don’t you and Jin have any food in your own flat?”

Jeongguk grumbles something intelligible. He makes no attempts at moving away from Taehyung, and Taehyung really has to commit his entire brain power to anchoring his thoughts in the here and now in order not to completely lose it in front of Jeongguk’s family when his fingertips slide over the rippled waistband of Jeongguk’s sweatpants and touch the smooth skin under the hem of his t-shirt.

After rolling his eyes in a theatrical semicircle, Jinsu gives Taehyung a pointed look. “Imagine raising him and his brother.” He nods towards his son. “Especially when they both picked up a competitive sport each. Well, I’m sure you’ve seen them fight over who gets to eat the last dumpling before.”

Taehyung laughs as if he knows what’s going on. Jeongguk’s skin feels warm and taut beneath his fingertips, and this is bad, really bad, because if Taehyung wanted to run his hands all over him before then this is making it worse.

“Jeongguk, why don’t you and Taehyung go and pick some strawberries from the garden to go with the dessert?” Jeongguk’s mother suggests. Stepping closer to her husband and taking the dish towel from him, she gives him a brief look. “Dinner should be done in a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah.” Jinsu smiles at his wife before reaching out and prying the wooden spoon out of Jeongguk’s hands. “There you go, you heard your mother.”

With his face twisting in almost painful embarrassment, Jeongguk lets his body sag even further into Taehyung’s side. “I’m twenty-five!”

“Not yet,” his father tells him, unimpressed. “And I don’t see your point.”

Taehyung half expects him to whine again, to protest and put up more of a fight, to yell at his parents that they’re humiliating him in front of a person he feels he needs to prove something to – but once again, Jeongguk surprises him by acting in the exact opposite way than Taehyung would in his place. He just presses his lips together into a pout of the rather fierce kind, and then he winds out of Taehyung’s hold and grabs his hand instead, intertwining their fingers as he leads him back into the hallway.

As soon as they step out a wide, modern glass door onto the veranda in the back garden, Taehyung bursts out into giggles. His naked feet stomp to a halt and he shifts, bringing his free hand up between them to tap it against Jeongguk’s nose.

“You are a baby.”

Jeongguk’s fingers close around his wrist tightly, holding his hand steady. In a low voice, he says, “They can still hear us.”

“I don’t care!” Taehyung is delighted, and he doesn’t bother to let the volume of his voice suggest otherwise. It feels like Jeongguk’s spent so much time and energy giving him the cold shoulder and trying to make him believe he’s this cool, mature, and quite frankly, bland person, and now he’s here, getting his hair ruffled, sliding along corridors, and dutifully taking orders from his father as if he hasn’t come of age yet. “You really are the spoiled younger brat! I knew it!”

Slowly lowering their hands, Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow at him. They’re standing close to each other now, face to face, both hands tangled together in one way or another. “How can I be spoiled, I bought this house for them.”

Grinning, Taehyung tries to get one of his hands free to poke it into Jeongguk’s chest, but Jeongguk isn’t letting him go, doesn’t give him even an inch. “You wouldn’t say that to them, though.”

The blush is still there, high on Jeongguk’s cheeks, and this time Taehyung is absolutely sure it’s not just the light playing a trick on him.

“No,” he goes on, his grin growing wider and wider by the second, “you dutifully go and pick strawberries for your Pa’s homemade dessert. Your mother was onto something when she called you an Appa’s boy! God, this is adorable, I will hold this over your head forev– Hey!”

Wiggling his fingers of one hand free, the grip of the other around Taehyung’s wrist remains tight like a vise. Jeongguk snaps the free hand up and presses it against Taehyung’s mouth, muffling his words. “Stop it.”

Without a second thought, Taehyung bites. Hard.

Jeongguk yanks his hand back at once. For a fraction of a second he looks genuinely taken aback, and the intense wave of pride and satisfaction at having him at a loss for words washing through Taehyung feels paralysing almost, but then Jeongguk huffs one of those breathless laughs that sound equal parts offended and challenging, and he’s shaking his head like he wants to tell Taehyung he’s going to regret this, and–

In an instant, Taehyung is swept off his feet. One moment, he sees the world how he knows it, and the next, his face is extremely close to Jeongguk’s ass.

This isn’t how he imagined tonight would go, but so far, he’s not complaining.

Except he kind of is, because there’s suddenly a lot of blood rushing to his head, and his hips are digging uncomfortably into Jeongguk’s shoulder, and in general, the part of his body he’d like to have furthest from the ground is suddenly the part that is closest, and he can’t see shit.

The way his stomach is somersaulting wildly at being manhandled like this isn’t helping his case either.

“Forget about the strawberries.” Jeongguk’s arm closes around his thighs, very close to where they transition into his butt, holding him securely in place. Taehyung sees his legs moving in front of his face before he realises Jeongguk’s started walking, is skipping down the stairs leading from the veranda onto a cobblestone path winding its way further into the garden. “You’re gonna meet the kois.”

“No!” Taehyung squeaks, bracing his hands against the small of Jeongguk’s back. He groans internally when the t-shirt pulls taut and he basically has his hands closed properly around Jeongguk’s waist. “No, Jeonggu– Jeon, let me down! Let me down! Down!”

Without interrupting his steady walk, Jeongguk giggles. It sounds free and youthful mixed with the chirping of the birds and the sound of a light breeze rustling through the leaves of the nearby bushes and trees. His hand curls a little more into Taehyung’s thigh. “Should’ve thought about this before you got all mouthy.”

The attempt at a condescending laugh sounds like nothing but a defiant huff, punched out of Taehyung as Jeongguk adjusts him over his shoulder. “Gonna show you mouthy.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk’s voice is this strange mix of amusement and pity again, and Taehyung, despite being used to it at this point, really hates how much he loves the sensation of it piercing right through him, seeping into his bones, and turning him into putty. “Can’t wait.”

A weak pout on his face, Taehyung lets his hands drop from Jeongguk’s waist to his hips, briefly screwing his eyes shut as he feels the natural curve of his body. “Let me down, you giant jackass.”

“Uh-uh.” Taehyung can’t really see anything aside from the pathway Jeongguk’s walking on and a few of the surrounding plants, but he doesn’t have to. He already knows Jeongguk’s pursing his lips and shaking his head. “How about you ask for it nicely?”

“I would literally rather die.”

“Fine.” Taehyung’s body wobbles considerably when Jeongguk shrugs. He walks down a pair of stone-tiled stairs before he sets foot on wide wood planks. The calm noise of splashing water becomes louder with every step he takes. “Prepare to get really wet, then.”

“No!” Taehyung tries kicking his legs, but there’s no use. Jeongguk seems to have no problem holding him right where he is no matter how much he squirms.

“No?” Suddenly, Jeongguk turns on the spot, and then Taehyung is looking down at a pond, its surface much closer to the tip of his nose than he’d like it to be. There are a few large koi fish circling lazily, the vibrant orange of their scales gleaming in the early evening sun. “What, no?”

Desperately, Taehyung grips the waistband of Jeongguk’s sweatpants, wrinkles it in his hands, holding on tightly for dear life. “You wouldn’t actually throw me in the water.”

“You sure about that?” For the shortest of moments, Jeongguk lets go of his legs. He immediately tightens his hold again not even a second later, but it’s enough to make Taehyung’s heart drop out of his ass. “My parents don’t know you well yet. Maybe you’re clumsy and you slipped.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Seriously,” Taehyung tries again. “Let me down.”

“Fine.”

A panicked squeal escapes Taehyung when Jeongguk loosens his grip – but only to throw him even further over his shoulder. It’s really uncomfortable now, and Taehyung has no idea how Jeongguk is still holding him, he feels a hair’s breadth away from face planting into the pond, and it’s in that moment that Taehyung realises Jeongguk really isn’t bluffing.

“Not like this!” His scrambling hands look for something to hold onto. Find the backs of Jeongguk’s thighs. “Down!”

“Hm,” Jeongguk hums, and it’s downright infuriating how relaxed he sounds while keeping Taehyung’s writhing body still. “I don’t hear you begging.”

“I swear to fucking God,” Taehyung grunts. He lets go of Jeongguk’s legs, but only to start drumming his fists against all the surface area of his body he can possibly reach. His butt feels stupidly firm, as do his legs, but he ignores it in favour of increasing the force behind the punches.

Jeongguk still doesn’t budge. All he does is gradually lower Taehyung, millimetre by millimetre closer to the water.

“Come on.” The over-pronounced softness in his voice, as if he’s mocking Taehyung, makes the tongue stick to the roof of Taehyung’s mouth. “Say please, darling.”

And it’s then that Taehyung knows he’s lost. He's completely pinned under Jeongguk's control, trapped by his arms and his words, and there’s nothing he can do about it. His brain feels a little slow and sluggish from being upside down for so long. His hands still, hold steadily onto Jeongguk’s thighs again for leverage.

“Let me down,” he mumbles. “Please.”

“What? Didn’t catch that.”

Taehyung presses his jaws together so much it hurts. Jeongguk is grinning. He’s grinning that real, genuine grin, the one that scrunches up his nose and shuts his eyes halfway, and Taehyung is most angry about the fact that he isn’t facing him to witness it.

“Please.”

Jeongguk gives him a noncommittal noise. “Please who?”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung contemplates smacking him again. “Please, asshole.”

There’s a sudden lurch and then Taehyung is another inch closer to bump noses with the koi fish. He scrambles to hold tighter onto Jeongguk’s legs, whining.

“Try again, darling.”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Taehyung ignores the pleasant haze urging to cloud his head upon hearing Jeongguk speak to him like this. He’s not one to give up, but he is someone who likes to dare people to put him into his place. 

And Jeongguk’s good at that. Really good. And that’s precisely what makes him so dangerous to Taehyung.

“Please,” he says again, eyes still shut. Humiliation and a little bit of spite burn low in his belly. “Let me down. Please, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk shifts under him, and Taehyung braces himself for the betrayal of the century and internally gears up to personally greet the fish eye to eye, but then suddenly, Jeongguk’s feet clad in the horrendous toe socks move away from the pond, and the next thing Taehyung knows safe ground is restored beneath his feet.

He’s a little unsteady, so the supervisory hand Jeongguk places carefully on his hip is actually more than welcome. His arms are still stretched up awkwardly, sort of hovering over Jeongguk’s shoulders, and it’s like some strange sort of magnetism pulls them down, makes them lie against Jeongguk’s chest.

Eyebrows drawing together into a brief frown, Jeongguk brings his free hand up – Taehyung sucks a surprised and uncontrolled breath into his lungs – and brushes a stray curl away from Taehyung’s forehead. “Good.”

So, Taehyung’s dead. He’s definitely dead, but he can’t say if he’s made it to heaven or hell yet.

Jeongguk holds his gaze, and then his eyes drop to Taehyung’s mouth and they linger, and this is a stupid idea, the stupidest thing they could possibly do, they shouldn’t, not here, not now, but Taehyung really just doesn’t care anymore.

“Excuse me, I didn’t know you two needed directions to find the strawberries!” Yeonja’s voice sounds from the veranda. She sounds amused and just as friendly as a few minutes earlier, but Taehyung kinda wishes she’d just stay in her house, because now Jeongguk’s snapping his hands away and there’s all this distance growing between them.

“Taehyung wanted to meet the fish!” he says, the tone of his voice lighthearted as he hops the stone stairs back up onto the pathway swirling through the grass.

“Yeah.” Taehyung saunters after him, still a little shaky on his feet. “Such nice fish. Great fish. Very big and strong. What.”

Jeongguk throws a look back at him, one eyebrow raised.

Ducking his head to hide the embarrassing colour of his cheeks, Taehyung buries his hands in the pockets of his slacks and speeds up his walking a little bit.

“Dinner’s ready,” Yeonja tells them once they’re a bit closer. She has this fond expression on her face that only makes the nervous flutter in Taehyung’s chest worse. “Please hurry up with the strawberries.”

Jeongguk salutes her briefly, which makes her roll her eyes before returning into the house through the back door, and then he leads Taehyung in the direction of the greenhouse.

The pathway snaking its way all throughout the garden isn’t actually that long, it just felt that way when Taehyung was being carried sort of against his will. It starts from the bottom of the veranda staircase and leads between blooming flower beds before it forks, the left side winding towards the koi pond, the right one towards the greenhouse.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks as he grabs a small basket from a weathered workbench next to the beanstalks.

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s voice is nothing but a meek croak. He clears his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

All he gets is a haphazard shrug from Jeongguk. He doesn’t meet Taehyung’s eye anymore, and Taehyung wonders if that’s because he feels it too, this gravitational current between them.

The greenhouse is stuffed full with tomato, bell pepper, and cucumber plants, each of them hanging full of ripe fruits. Even though they don’t actually go in – Jeongguk doesn’t even spare the small glass house a single look of interest – Taehyung can smell the freshness of the vegetables. It feels strangely like home, but not like the one he grew up in. More so, it reminds him of what home should feel like. It tugs at the last bit of remembrance of his grandparents’ old lavender farm somewhere close to his heart and makes him avert his eyes.

There’s a raised garden bed behind the greenhouse exploding with strawberry plants. Jeongguk cautiously balances the small basket on the edge of the bed before his hands start rifling through the leaves.

“I didn’t know you lived with Seokjin.” Taehyung aims for his tone to be casual, and he contemplates leaning sideways against the facade of the greenhouse to further get his composed coolness across, but he isn’t sure how steadfast the small shed is, so he simply crosses his arms loosely in front of his chest.

“Oh.” Jeongguk plucks a particularly large strawberry off a plant. The look of pure wonder he directs at the fruit is so adorable and weirdly humbling that Taehyung might just throw himself at him again. “Yeah. We’ve been living together for like, a year now.”

Taehyung watches him put two, three, four more strawberries into the basket before he decides he should probably help so that Jeongguk’s mother doesn’t have to call for them again. Usually, he doesn’t care much about what people think of him, only cares about whether or not he’s doing a good enough job at any given time, but here…

He doesn’t want to be a rude guest, that’s all.

“Never thought I would.” Jeongguk is speaking more to the plants than to Taehyung’s face. “Move in with him, I mean. We fought a lot as kids, and my obnoxious fifteen-year-old self was so happy when he finally went away to university in Seoul.”

No matter how hard Jeongguk tries, he doesn’t sound like there’s a single contemptuous cell in his body – not towards his brother, anyway.

“So that’s why you were such a bitter teenager.” Taehyung steps up next to him, lightly nudging him with his shoulder as his hands start searching for strawberries as well. They don’t look at each other. “Deep inside you were missing your big bro.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Sure. Didn’t have anything to do with the fact that everything I wanted just seemed to fall into your lap.”

A perfectly ripe strawberry at his fingertips, Taehyung stops. Turns his head. Stares at Jeongguk’s profile. “Is that really what it seemed like?”

Next to him, Jeongguk keeps moving. His arm keeps brushing against Taehyung’s, tirelessly harvesting strawberry after strawberry. “Yeah,” he huffs, and it sounds as if he’s thinking Taehyung’s taking the piss. “All you had to do was put on a smile and make one of your stupid, charming jokes, and suddenly whoever it was was eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Frowning, Taehyung lets go of the strawberry and grabs Jeongguk’s wrist instead. He’s not really sure why he’s doing it; maybe because he wants to have his full attention, wants to make sure Jeongguk understands that he’s not being haughty or gloating or complacent about what he says next, “I worked for it.”

It’s like Jeongguk’s refusing to properly look at him. “You kissed asses, is what you did.”

“I mean.” Taehyung can’t help himself, he purses his lips. “Eventually. But not in that way.”

Finally, Jeongguk turns his head. But only to regard him with an annoyed glare. “Oh my God.”

Taehyung has no idea when it happened, but Jeongguk’s glower is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He has to speak before it can continue to distract him, though.

“I worked for it,” he says again, fully pronouncing every word to get his point across. “I did. I put hours and hours of work into everything I did, including school. It’s the only way my parents would allow me to go to castings and stuff.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows relax into a slightly more conciliatory expression, but he still doesn’t look convinced.

“I ran on like four hours of sleep every night in high school. You of all people must know what it’s like to have a dream and put your blood, sweat, and tears into chasing it. I didn’t have parents who blindly supported me. I had to give them something to be proud of.”

He hadn’t. He’d disappointed them again, again, again.

He still isn’t enough. Yet.

The thought, as quickly as it flashes through his brain as it does, causes an uncomfortable prickling to swell up behind the bridge of his nose. He blinks furiously. 

Here’s what he’s not going to do: he’s absolutely, definitely not going to embarrass himself by crying about his daddy issues in Jeongguk’s family’s vegetable garden in front of Jeongguk, no, thank you very much.

“It’s…” Rolling his eyes at the smallness of his voice (and to get rid of the traitorous wetness blurring his vision), he lets go of Jeongguk’s wrist as if it had somehow contributed to the sudden feeling of utter shittyness growing in his chest. “Whatever.”

The plants give an angry rustle when he finds the strawberry he’d previously abandoned and quite unceremoniously rips it off. Bitter spite makes him careless, and his grip is a little too strong, red juice leaking out of the innocent fruit like blood.

Jeongguk reaches over and Taehyung, all caught up in his head, doesn’t even realise he’s touching him until his fingers are already gently pried apart and the poor strawberry has found a more merciful place in the palm of Jeongguk’s hand. His touch lingers, though, his thumb drawing a tender circle to the side of Taehyung’s wrist before he lets go.

“We should really go back inside.” It’s not like Taehyung anticipated him to apologise or comfort him, but the softness and noticeable lack of animosity in his tone is somehow even more unexpected. “Or these strawberries’ll be all we’re eating tonight.”

It’s quiet between them for a few beats, as if Jeongguk wants to grant him an opportunity to say something, and when he doesn’t, Taehyung suddenly feels the press of two fingers against the underside of his jaw.

Jeongguk’s shifted in his stance, leaning his hip sideways against the raised garden bed. “Hey,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips as Taehyung allows him to adjust his head. “Chin up, darling.”

***

Inside, Jeongguk’s parents welcome them back with wide smiles and lighthearted jokes. The table in the cosy dining area adjacent to the kitchen is set with homely ceramic dinnerware. The chairs set around the large, round hardwood table are thick with upholstery, and now, having met Jeongguk’s parents, Taehyung can clearly imagine the whole family coming together and spending long evenings here.

The food turns out to be delicious. It’s just a smidge too spicy for Taehyung’s personal taste, and he really tries not to let it show, but Jinsu points it out anyway and laughs openly when Taehyung tries to deny everything.

Polite smalltalk blooms into a full conversation. Jeongguk fills his parents in on what’s been going on in his life over the past week or so, and Taehyung makes sure to listen attentively while also appearing as if he knows the little anecdotes Jeongguk recounts already. Yeonja tells them a story about one of their friendly neighbours, someone Jeongguk is clearly familiar with, but she includes Taehyung in the conversation seemingly without even thinking about it, and it feels really, really nice.

And then the inevitable question comes.

“So, Taehyung. What do you do?”

Taehyung’s expected this, of course, but he still feels awkward. His eyes snap briefly towards Jeongguk, who’s already there to meet him. His face looks at ease, though, completely relaxed, as if he trusts Taehyung to give the right answer no matter what he says.

“Oh, I…” He dabs his mouth with a napkin. He isn’t really sure how to reply. Surely Jeongguk’s parents must know a little bit about him – but how much? “I do modelling. Mostly.”

Only. It’s the only thing he does. Sometimes professionally and most times amateurishly on social media.

“Ah,” Yeonja says. Her face is all open, genuine interest clinging curiously to her raised eyebrows and enthusiastic nods. “What kind?”

It’s a little fucked up, how insecure Taehyung gets as soon as someone puts him on the hot seat to question him about his job, his dream. He almost expects Jeongguk’s parents to laugh straight at his face, tell him what, you’re a model? You? or I don’t know if I’d call Instagram a career or we’ve seen it, Taehyung, we’ve seen the video.

But they don’t. Even though Taehyung is quite certain, judging by how interested Jeongguk’s mother sounded over the phone when she called during their little vacation, that they must know.

“Commercial,” he says. “Like brand deals, for the most part. For now. I’m, um.” His right leg, the one closer to Jeongguk, starts bouncing nervously. “I’d like to go more into high fashion and editorials. I’m working towards it.”

“It sounds like a difficult industry. A lot of competition, I suppose.” Yeonja purses her lips empathetically. “But it would surprise me to hear you’re not doing well.”

“He just did an ad campaign with Levi’s,” Jeongguk chimes in from the side, and the pride in his voice sounds so genuine it almost fools Taehyung. He leans a little closer, his shoulder almost bumping into Taehyung’s. “And you had a few castings last week, right?”

It’s an honest question, Taehyung knows that, but Jeongguk still manages to make it sound like he wants to prompt him into introducing himself further to his parents.

“Oh, tell me about that!” Yeonja says, her chopsticks clinking against her plate. “You always see that on tv, but I’m sure there’s a lot more going on.”

Internally, Taehyung flinches at the memory of walking up and down the length of a tube-like room with distractingly shiny linoleum flooring at the CELINE casting a few days ago. He was one of many, so many. The placid expression on the director’s face still haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

They didn’t outright tell him no, but they might as well.

Maybe next time.

He settles on recounting one of his more positive casting experiences, one where he heard back from the company on the very same day, but then he feels like maybe this is setting the bar a little too high for himself – so he ends up telling the CELINE story anyway. Every now and then, when he meets their eyes, he stumbles over his words. Not because he’s embarrassed or insecure (maybe a little bit), but because Jeongguk’s parents look actually interested.

When he finishes, Jeongguk’s mother huffs a small laugh that sounds almost like exhaustion on Taehyung’s behalf and shakes her head. “Yeah, I would not have the nerves for that.”

“I suppose you just gotta get over the fact they’re looking at you like an object.” Taehyung shrugs, placing his cutlery down on his clean-sweeped plate. “Nothing’s ever personal.”

“That’s a very professional way of looking at it,” Jinsu says, and Taehyung just can’t get over it, how much they wanna know him and how serious they take him. “It must’ve taken a while to get into that mindset. I admit I’d be too emotional for it.”

“Comes with time,” Taehyung agrees, thinking back to those first years, back when he was still in school, way too young to be in front of a professional camera and make a living out of it, and the time after that, the heavy door that is the modelling industry held open by one foot wedged uncomfortably in the slither that kept it from becoming one with an impenetrable wall in front of him, threatened to get kicked out any minute.

He’s made it through the door now, has both feet planted in the business, but his back is still pressed to the wall, and the room is so full, so full of all those people better than him, and he hasn’t learned how to get to the middle yet, how to get right under the beam of the spotlight.

“The more you try, the easier it gets,” he says, and it’s only half a lie. Most times, rejections don’t sting – except when it’s a job he’s been desperately wanting for the better part of a decade. “And I’ll keep trying. Fashion Week’s a goal. As is a Vogue cover.”

It’s already out there before he can stop himself. He blushes. It sounds so silly said out loud, even though it’s the truth. But it feels like there’s always something mildly narcissistic about talking about his modelling career, as if a runway in Paris, London, Milan, or New York isn’t a dream as worth aiming for as a World Cup.

“Ambition is good.” Jinsu smiles. “I see why you and Jeongguk get along so well.”

Taehyung has to press his lips together to keep himself from laughing hysterically.

“Right!” Yeonja narrows her eyes at her son over the table. It’s funny, how much the two of them look alike when she does that. “Didn’t think I’d let you off the hook this easily, did you.”

“Ma…” Jeongguk brings his elbows up onto the tabletop and buries his face in his hands.

“What, I just wanna know where you picked up such a respectful, nice young man!”

The feeling spreading at once in Taehyung’s chest is a slightly confusing one. Rather than satisfaction and relief about a task well done, it’s comfortable warmth mixed with a concerningly large part of happiness.

He could get used to this.

When Jeongguk lowers his hands in front of his face, his cheeks are pink, and he’s such a bad actor but so good at pretending when it comes down to it, isn’t he. Judging by the smirk on his mother’s face and the knowing smile pulling up the corners of his father’s mouth, the two of them must be buying their whole act.

In the end, it’s Taehyung who tells them about their past as childhood rivals, which causes Yeonja to laugh in disbelief upon not knowing her son had struggled in a fruitless and mostly one-sided competition in high school.

Apparently Jeongguk’s been bad at talking about his emotions and what’s bothering him all his life. Which, actually, that’s not surprising to Taehyung in the slightest.

Somehow this conversation leads them down a path of memories of their old hometown, and Taehyung almost misses it, the beach, the cookies from that one shabby bakery close to his elementary school, the nights he spent trying to memorise flashcards behind the ticket counter of the cinema he used to work at. 

Jinsu disappears and returns with an old but well-kept photo album and a bottle of wine, and despite all his initial apprehensions, this turns out to be one of the funnest evenings Taehyung’s had in a while. (The picture of chubby baby Jeongguk crying in a laundry basket used as a bathtub is largely responsible for that.)

It turns out Jeongguk’s father knows a lot about wine, and he and Taehyung drift off into their own little conversation that ends with Jinsu insisting to take him to one of those fancy wine tasting sites sometime soon. Conscientious as Taehyung is, he slows down after the first glass and stops after the second, the alcohol only adding to the comfortable feeling inside him without making him too tipsy.

At some point during the night, Jeongguk’s arm finds its way onto the backrest of his chair. It just lies there, draped along the upholstery, and as soon as Taehyung notices it with a startle, he moves it, wraps it properly around him and begins rubbing little circles into his shoulder.

Taehyung loses track of the conversation for a little while after that, too busy trying not to lean into Jeongguk’s touch. Ultimately, he has to give in. Jeongguk’s hold on him is too insistent, and he doesn’t want their cover to blow, and Jeongguk smells so nice and having him close feels a little too good, and Taehyung’s just weak.

Before he can get all caught up in the messy swirls of burning desire cursing all throughout his body and turn his head and bury his face in the crook of Jeongguk’s neck, he quickly excuses himself to the bathroom.

Jeongguk’s hand seems reluctant to let him go, but Taehyung is sure he’s imagining that, which is just one more reason he needs to get out of there for a minute.

The bathroom is neither too big nor too small, all shiny dark tiles and wooden accents. There’s a massive tub across from a counter holding two sinks, and Taehyung sits down on its edge for a moment, running his hands through his hair before dragging them down his face.

What’s he gotten himself into?

How’s he supposed to come out of this unscathed?

Jeongguk’s been back in his life for barely a month, and already he’s found a way to constantly occupy his thoughts. Taehyung hasn’t been stupid enough to catch feelings for someone in years, and he’s not exactly sure that that’s what’s happening, but it feels like it, more and more every day.

It’s the slippiest slope he’s ever been on, he has no idea how to stop it, but he has to, he absolutely has to.

With his head back in the right place, he pushes up from the edge of the tub and seizes the door. Out in the hallway, just a few steps closer to where dinnerware clinks and Jeongguk’s laugh echoes, he already feels his self-discipline dwindle.

He stalls a little bit by looking at the framed photographs along the wall. There’s one of Yeonja and Jinsu when they were younger, both of them grinning happily. Next to them is one of the small white dog Taehyung’s seen on Jeongguk’s Instagram, and next to that one, a family portrait. Taehyung huffs a small laugh to himself. The smiles of little Seokjin and Jeongguk look so forced, Taehyung’s pretty sure they’ve been made to hold hands like good little siblings to save the impression of a perfect family.

Further down the hall, he spots Seokjin’s graduation photo, and another one of him, a good ten years younger, posing with a gold medal at what looks like a swimming competition. Next to him is teenage Jeongguk, his fringe falling across his face just like Taehyung remembers, proudly holding a signed football jersey.

And then there are Seokjin and Jeongguk in suits, and Jeongguk looks so happy he’s practically glowing, and Taehyung doesn’t have to think twice about which day that photo must’ve been taken.

“I couldn’t get myself to get rid of all the pictures of that day,” Yeonja’s voice sounds suddenly. Taehyung flinches slightly when she appears next to him, holding the nearly empty bottle of wine to her chest with one hand, the other she touches to the middle of his back in apology. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just going to get the wine back in the cellar.”

Taehyung relaxes his posture a little bit. “It’s a nice picture,” he says, looking at the wall again, and it is, but he still sounds a little bit like a robot to his own ears.

Yeonja smiles a sad smile. She’s quiet for a moment. “Jinsu and I got married in our early twenties as well. But I still thought… I don’t know if I was just being a mother, but I still felt like he was too young.”

It surprises Taehyung a little bit, how easily she brings it up. She must be thinking he and Jeongguk trust each other more than they actually do. 

There’s a little pang of guilt somewhere in his stomach, and he should probably steer the conversation to a topic that poses less of a blunt invasion of privacy, but he sort of can’t. He’s too curious.

“I wasn’t against it by any means,” she quickly adds before Taehyung can say anything. “No, not at all. I liked Aerin, you know, and I thought she brought out the best in him while they were together. But when it ended… I felt so sorry. And… well, I don’t need to tell you how hard the past year’s been on him.”

Taehyung recalls the way Jeongguk talked to him about his divorce and compares it to the tone in Yeonja’s voice. It’s not like Jeongguk sounded dismissive or aloof, but he also didn’t mention the previous year at all.

“He doesn’t really talk much about it.”

“No, I imagine he doesn’t.” Yeonja rolls her eyes affectionately. “I’m sure you know how messy the separation was, though. He’s just… He’s too good, and sometimes people take advantage of that.”

There’s so much pain in her voice, it almost sounds like regret, as if she’s convinced she could’ve protected her son from the cruel fate some relationships tend to when in reality, she must be aware that she couldn’t. Can’t.

“I was really scared he wouldn’t be able to pick himself back up again after that, you know.” She presses her lips together for a moment, hugs the bottle of wine tighter to her chest. “I’ve always been proud of my sons, but I think the moment he started to see someone and slowly found his way back into life was…” 

The sentence is concluded with a quiet nod that shatters Taehyung’s heart. There’s so much relief and gratefulness in her voice, it makes his own throat feel tight.

“I’m sorry.” Yeonja blinks up at him. Her face relaxes a little bit, but her eyebrows are still dipped slightly downwards as she takes in Taehyung’s face. “What I wanted to say is…” She throws a quick look back in the direction of the kitchen and the dining room before focusing back on Taehyung. “I haven’t seen him this lively and happy around anyone in so long, Taehyung. Thank you for that. Thank you for making my baby happy.”

Before Taehyung can even start processing her words, she’s already reaching over, wrapping him up in a tight embrace, the wine bottle in one of her hands digging into his back. Hastily, he hugs her back and even stammers his way through some sort of reply, but the truth is that his head feels utterly empty.

He hasn’t been acting tonight. Not at all.

He’s terrified of what that means.

***

As it’s already quite late, they don’t end up staying for much longer. Taehyung agrees to keep in touch with Jinsu about that whole wine tasting thing, and then he gets another warm hug from Jeongguk’s mother (she’s officially hugged him more times in the past four hours than his own mother has in the past year).

On the way to the car, Jeongguk threads their fingers together, and he even opens the passenger door for Taehyung, which, combined with the already confusing and conflicting feelings playing dodgeball with his insides, is a little too much for today. He all but flops down on the seat, letting out a deep sigh that sounds more like a noise trapped somewhere between yearning and blatant discomfort.

That actually sums it up quite well.

The drive to his place is quiet. There’s something hanging in the air between them, and Taehyung isn’t sure if it’s because of him or Jeongguk or the fact that the parents of his fake boyfriend have basically just accepted him into the family and they both don’t really know where to go from there.

Watching Jeongguk drive is oddly calming, especially at night. City lights dance over the exposed skin of his arms, dramatic shadows drawing new shapes between the intricate ink designs.

Taehyung wants to touch them. Wants to trace them with his mouth.

He’s staring. He’s staring and he doesn’t notice until Jeongguk shifts his right arm onto the middle console, the palm of his hand just barely pointing upward as if he’s waiting for Taehyung to bring their fingers together again.

He can’t.

But he wants to.

So he does.

There’s no change in the expression on Jeongguk’s face, he doesn’t bat an eye, but his thumb immediately starts caressing Taehyung’s knuckles. Down the street, there’s a red light coming up, and he flexes his hand just a little, as if he’s afraid the change in speed will make Taehyung pull back.

“I know they’re a little much.”

Taehyung almost doesn’t catch his voice, despite the music that’s sounding from the speakers being on low volume. “What?”

“My parents,” Jeongguk says, stopping the car behind another one. Its burning tail lights cast a scarlet shine onto him; it clings to him, rendering his features soft. “They’re so nosy. I don’t think they mean to be, but still…”

“Oh.” Taehyung shrugs with the side of his body that isn’t facing Jeongguk, too scared any direct movement will attract attention to their joined hands. He’s not really sure what’s going on, but he doesn’t want it to stop. “Don’t worry about that. It was actually kinda nice that someone… I dunno. Cared.”

Jeongguk turns his head towards him, his features set in something like sympathy. “You really don’t talk to your parents anymore?”

“Oh, no, I do,” Taehyung is quick to say, voice insistent. But then he sort of deflates. He should really get used to that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he’s had it all his life; every time he’s excited about another opportunity and met with dismissal by his parents; every time he tries, gives it his all, and doesn’t make it. “Just… not recently.”

And then Jeongguk does it, he moves their hands. Just a little bit to the right, but enough for them to drop onto Taehyung’s thigh. It’s a gesture as comforting as it is maddening, but before Taehyung can react in any way, the red light springs to green, and their surroundings start moving again, Jeongguk’s gaze focused back on the road ahead.

“What’s that mean?”

Taehyung nudges one of his loafers against the other. He’s staring at their hands, Jeongguk’s tattooed fingers wrapped around and intertwined with his. And somehow, it’s so easy to talk like this, holding hands in the near dark while navigating the stop and go of late night city traffic.

“Since the video… Since I got hacked…” He clears his throat. “They saw it, of course. Or, well, I hope they didn’t actually see it, but… They know it’s out there. Or was, anyway. And… My dad hasn’t been answering my calls since then.”

Under the palm of Taehyung’s hand, Jeongguk turns his around so his fingers are spread over Taehyung’s leg, brushing tender circles on the material of his slacks. Taehyung’s hand remains sort of cupped over his knuckles, and it’s so much more intimate like this, for some reason. He almost bends down and breathes a kiss to the small rose design adorning the skin where Jeongguk’s thumb transitions into his hand.

“They don’t really understand it. Why I couldn’t just go to university and get a – God, I hate this word – normal job.” All the fights he’s had with them over the years swell up in the back of his mind, a deafening, disturbing buzz. “I think at first they were just concerned I wouldn’t be able to fend for myself. They probably still are. Which just goes to show that they’ve never really listened to me.”

Jeongguk hums a noncommittal noise. It’s different than usual. Rather than sounding condescending or uninterested, it’s a sound of empathy, an invitation to go on.

And apparently that’s all Taehyung needs. It comes pouring out of him at once. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.

“I’ve tried to arrange myself with them for the longest time. I had outstanding grades in school, I even thought about going to university when I couldn’t find an agency that would sign me. I’m not stupid, you know, I can see that I’m not worldwide successful yet. But what they don’t get is that their disapproval isn’t going to make me stop. It’s only going to make me try harder.” He feels a little breathless, and that stupid numbing feeling is back behind the bridge of his nose. Keeping his eyes wide open, he focuses on the blurring lights in front of the window, letting their burn erase all signs of tears. “I meant what I said. I’m gonna give them something to be so proud of, they can’t ignore me any longer.”

Jeongguk hangs a right and then easily swerves around the next corner. The neighbourhood seems more and more familiar with each passing building. Dread spreads through Taehyung when he spots his apartment complex peeking through two other buildings to their right. He doesn’t want the night to end yet.

He doesn’t want to let go of Jeongguk’s hand.

“They should be proud of you now.” The hold Jeongguk has around his thigh grows a little firmer, as if Taehyung needed a reminder. “You’re their son. You shouldn’t have to prove something to them to get them to accept your way of living.”

It’s so easily said, Taehyung almost believes it to be true. But he knows it’s naive. It might be the reality Jeongguk was lucky enough to grow up in, but it isn’t Taehyung’s. When you pour your everything into whatever you’ve set your mind to for multiple consecutive years and are met by nothing but a belittling fake smile at best, well, by a certain point, your determination turns into spite.

No matter how hard-working he is, he’ll probably never earn a genuine Well done from his father.

Doesn’t mean he’ll stop aiming for it.

“What if they’re right, though. What if I’m just not good enough?” It’s a thought he’s had a million times, an insecurity he lives by, and it just blurts out of him as Jeongguk steers the car to the side of the road and slows it to a halt.

With the vehicle in park, Jeongguk turns slightly in his seat so he’s fully facing Taehyung. His expression is serious, as if he’s truly considering every one of Taehyung’s words before carefully choosing his reply.

“You know you’re good at it,” he says, and he sounds so certain, as if he really knows Taehyung. “You know you have the potential one needs to make it big. You know that. You know that so much, it’s annoying sometimes.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The corners of Jeongguk’s mouth twitch into a quick flash of a grin. It’s gone pretty much immediately, though, replaced by the look of honesty in his eyes. “What I mean is that if you want to prove that you’re worth it to someone, prove it to yourself. And if you do that, do others’ opinions really matter?”

“Others’ opinions always matter,” Taehyung says, because it’s true. Again, in a perfect world, he could live happily ever after simply knowing the fact that in theory, he could make it. Potentially. Hypothetically.

But this isn’t a perfect world. This is real life, and real life requires external validation just as much as it requires inner confidence.

“Okay.” Jeongguk leans a little closer, but his hand isn’t moving on Taehyung’s thigh anymore. “Wanna know mine?”

Against his will, Taehyung’s eyes drop to follow the shape of the words on Jeongguk’s lips. He nods before he’s fully processed the question. “Yeah,” he breathes, letting his fingers ghost up Jeongguk’s forearm, just a little bit, just to the next mesmerising design marking his skin. “Tell me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate.

“I think you’re good. The way you carry yourself and the way you are in front of a camera…” He trails off, gaze flitting up and down Taehyung’s face. “All the work you put in looks like second nature, like it’s easy. And your face…”

Taehyung’s heartbeat is thrumming against the inside of his ribcage, begging to break through. “What about my face?”

As if on cue, Jeongguk brings his other hand up and traces it along Taehyung’s jaw. “It’s not just that you’re beautiful,” he says, and his touch lingers on Taehyung’s chin, seemingly unsure whether to press or push or hold, before he drops it. “You have a face that inspires.”

Everything inside Taehyung is one big, jumbled up, chaotic mess. His bones feel like melting butter unable to support his weight, his stomach is performing one somersault after the other, so much he actually might get sick from it, and his eyes are threatening to fall close under the heavy desire to just give in.

“Careful, Jeon.” His voice is nothing but a low whisper. But he sees the way the words hit Jeongguk where Taehyung’s breath fans against the skin of his face, his mouth falling open ever so slightly as if he wants to inhale them. “Almost sounds like you’re saying something genuinely nice about me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t pull back, no, he bears Taehyung's intense eye contact. “Don’t worry,” he says, flexing his hand on Taehyung’s thigh again, causing him to open his legs just a little. “Won’t happen again.”

Lowering his gaze, Taehyung tries to focus on the bottom half of Jeongguk’s face where he knows he’s gnawing on his bottom lip. But he can’t. They’re too close.

“Too bad.”

There’s a burning sensation in Taehyung’s fingertips, his lips, his heart, desperate to propel him the last couple inches forward.

He knows he isn’t going to fight it in the same way he knows that he should.

But maybe Jeongguk is right, after all. Maybe he does have some things to prove to himself before anyone else.

Maybe a night as vulnerable as this isn’t the right one to make bad decisions.

He knows he’s going to fight it in the same way he doesn’t want to fight it.

In the end, as it plays out, it’s Jeongguk who pulls the emergency parachute on the situation. At once, he falls back into the upholstery of his seat with a breathless cough, and it effectively snaps Taehyung out of his trance and back to reality.

Jeongguk’s hand is still on his thigh.

He’s still holding Jeongguk’s hand.

“There’s…” Jeongguk speaks towards the dashboard of his car. “I have a game. In Tokyo. Next week.”

Taehyung stares at the side of his face. “Okay.”

“I’d… I mean. It would probably be good if you came along.”

“Probably, yeah.” Taehyung nods absent-mindedly. His voice is somewhere far, far away. He’s pretty sure Jimin’s going to tell him if he should or shouldn’t accompany Jeongguk to an international football game abroad.

“Good for publicity.”

“Good for publicity.”

“Think about it? If you have time.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says softly. “I will.”

“Sorry about my parents again.”

It lures a small laugh out of Taehyung. He rolls his eyes, hands starting to fumble with the door handle. They’re a little shaky. “Stop it, give them a break. They were super nice. That wine tasting, I’ll hold your dad to it.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Of course you will.”

“I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.” Jeongguk’s fingers are drawing patterns on Taehyung’s leg again. “Good night, Taehyung.”

It’s never been this hard to get out of a car before.

“Night, Jeon.”

***

The way into his apartment building and up to his flat feels like it’s happening in a haze. Taehyung feels floaty, a little unsteady on his feet, and his thoughts spring back and forth like his mind is playing an aggressive round of tennis with them, bouncing between fuck (said dreamily) and fuck (said with the dooming realisation that dreamy is definitely not what he should be feeling towards Jeongguk).

On his floor, he gets out the elevator and quickly makes his way over to the front door of his flat. All that’s happened throughout the evening is replaying in front of his inner eye, the last few minutes in the car on some sort of wicked loop.

With his key in hand, he pauses and lets his head tip forward. A dull thud sounds when it collides with the door. He closes his eyes.

Whatever intervention he’d staged for himself after those two days with Jeongguk in the Honeymoon Lodge? Yeah, all that work was for nothing.

Everything is so messy. When has it all become so messy?

“Taehyung.”

Chapter Text

Here are some things Taehyung, emotionally drained and confused as he is, wants to do after getting home late at night from hitting it off with his supposed boyfriend’s parents: Curl up in bed. Stare at the ceiling. Stalk Jeongguk’s Instagram page for the umpteenth time. Call Jimin to have some sense punched into him (preferably verbally, but it’s not like he’s picky right now).

Here’s what he absolutely doesn’t want to do: Talk to the most insignificant yet somehow most insistent hook up he’s ever had.

“What are you doing here?”

Eunchan pushes himself off the wall across from Taehyung’s flat he’s stood leaning against, and it’s probably Taehyung’s disdainful imagination, but it looks like the sole of one of his Vans has left a dirty imprint on the wallpaper.

“We need to talk, you and me.”

Turning back towards the door, Taehyung adjusts the key in his hand. “It’s ten,” he says, tone icy. “At night. How did you even get in here?”

Eunchan is too close too fast. He’s a broad guy, stockier than what Taehyung has come to get used to with Jeongguk but not really any shorter, which makes him all the more intimidating when it’s him who suddenly gets all up in Taehyung’s space. “Went in with one of the neighbours.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s not creepy at all.” With a resigned sigh, Taehyung shoves the key into the hole but doesn’t turn it, twists his body instead so his shoulder is leaning against the door and he’s facing Eunchan head on. As exhausted as he feels, both mentally and physically, he’s not going to back down from something as silly as this. “Listen, I’m really not in the mood right now, okay? I’ve had a long da–”

“Were you out with him?”

Taehyung frowns. “What?”

“Were you out with him tonight?” Eunchan gestures vaguely with his right hand. “Whatshisface. Jeon.”

Something swells up in Taehyung’s chest, right behind his sternum, something thick and pressing. No one gets to say Jeongguk’s last name with that level of animosity but him. No one.

“Jeongguk,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm, but it still sounds like he’s spitting the word in Eunchan’s face. “His name is Jeongguk.”

Eunchan snorts, but it sounds less humorous and more despicable. He rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulling up into an unsympathetic smile that lets Taehyung know he’s not being taken seriously. At all.

“There’s no way this is an actual thing.” If the certainty in Eunchan’s voice weren’t so tainted by obvious pettiness, Taehyung would feel legitimately scared their scheme might’ve blown. “You and him.”

For a few beats, Taehyung holds the eye contact Eunchan is trying to taunt him with. And then he decides this is stupid and also a waste of his time. He turns back towards the door, intent on finally getting rid of this pitiful excuse of a man crying after what Taehyung has always made clear isn’t and will never be his. “I really don’t see how who I’m dating is any of your concern.”

Eunchan doesn’t move. Taehyung feels his gaze boring into the side of his face. “It does concern me,” he says, and he sounds so much like he’s been waiting for this, like this is what he came here for, that Taehyung’s stomach flips nervously even before he adds on his next words, “when I’ve been cheated on.” 

At once, Taehyung’s head snaps around. “What the fu–”

The quirk of Eunchan’s mouth is enough to shut him up. It’s such a miniature but effective movement, the slight ridicule in it, and it’s effective in the way it immediately pulls all control over the situation from under Taehyung’s feet like a rug, leaving him staggering and stumbling.

“Or am I the one you cheated with?” The questioning tone in Eunchan’s voice is dripping with honey sweetness. “You and Jeon started seeing each other a couple months ago, hm? It’s been a while since you and I were together, but not that long.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Taehyung hisses, taking a step closer and regretting it immediately. Eunchan smells like aftershave and cologne, too much too heavy, and it gets worse when he moves closer too.

The grin on his face spreads wider. “I have plenty of evidence that can prove one of two things: either your little romance is fake...” He pauses, just briefly, as if he’s expecting Taehyung to fall to his knees and confess on the spot.

As if.

“Or you’ve been cheating. On who, me or Jeon, doesn’t really matter in the end, does it. The media’s gonna eat it up either way.” There’s a pregnant pause in which Eunchan’s eyes flick up and down Taehyung’s shocked face once, twice. “If someone were to tell them.”

It’s like Taehyung’s instincts jump so quickly between fight and flight, he freezes instead. He’s paralysed to this very spot in the goddamn hallway of his apartment building, with his annoying ex hook up way closer than he’d like him to be, and he wants to tell him to fuck off, fuck himself, leave, but he can’t.

And then Eunchan’s touching him. It’s tender, a simple caress to the side of his cheek, close to his ear, and to his own surprise and horror, it doesn’t shock him back into action.

It just makes him feel even more powerless.

Two fingers move over the hinge of his jaw, press into his throat where his pulse is thumping against the inside of his skin.

“No one likes a cheater, Taehyung.” Eunchan purses his lips like it’s pity he’s feeling for Taehyung, but the hard look in his eyes gives him away. “After all, it boils down to a very simple fact the people should know about you. You’re a pathetic, dirty little slut.”

It hurts. It pierces right through Taehyung’s already weathered thick skin and hits bullseye in one of his most vulnerable spots. There’s a bitter satisfaction to the sting of it, a dull sinking feeling in his chest, an obvious tell that some part of him can’t argue against this kind of contempt.

Maybe that’s what he is. Maybe that’s exactly what he is.

It evokes a certain kind of dissonance within himself. Funny how quickly a single word can bruise something inside him he’d thought invincible once it’s taken out of the context of intimacy and the confinements of his own bedroom.

It’s clear in every line of Eunchan’s face that he thinks he’s won.

He hasn’t. He isn’t going to.

Winding his face out of Eunchan’s hold, Taehyung turns back towards the door. The lock clicks loudly in the thick silence between them. For a moment that seems to last an entire eternity, all Taehyung does is stare straight ahead, gaze unfocused.

His brain is working a hundred miles per second. What can he do? What should he say? What’s the best way to handle a situation like this? Would the public even believe Eunchan if he were to say anything? 

He can’t risk it. He can’t risk it for the sake of himself, yes, but also for Jeongguk.

“I don’t need to tell you how hard the past year’s been on him,” Yeonja’s voice echoes through his head. He can’t be – no, he doesn’t want to be responsible if Jeongguk’s name gets dragged through the mud for something related to the person he’s dating again.

This is his shit, his alone, and he’ll protect him from it.

He takes a deep breath, forces the necessary air into his lungs to push through this disastrous end of the night, and walks into his flat.

“Oh, don’t fucking bother,” he snaps as soon as Eunchan’s closed the door behind them and is bending over to take his shoes off. Letting his toxic ex follow him into his own four walls probably isn’t the smartest choice, but he can’t have his neighbours catch anything they discuss. “You’re not staying.”

“Always so feisty, baby,” Eunchan laughs, and the blind rage bubbling up Taehyung’s chest is begging him to punch that stupid smirk off his face. “You sure you wanna use that mouth on me?”

There’s something so downright humiliating about being belittled and flouted like this, it’s instantly disarming. Where usually, Taehyung wouldn’t think twice about snarling and letting his wits take over, he now feels like he’s facing a massive wall, and he’s small, so small that nothing he says could ever reach the other side, and all the anger inside him results to is this hopeless desperation that is nothing but the butt of the joke for his opponent.

“What do you want from me?” The sound of his own voice, he hates it. It's meek and defiant and not himself.

Eunchan doesn’t hesitate for even a second. “I want what we used to have.”

Involuntarily, an airy huff of an emotionless laugh bursts out of Taehyung. This has got to be some sick joke. “What we used to have?” he asks, disbelieving. “And what’s that, Chan, please do tell me.”

Stretching his hand out towards him, Eunchan takes a step closer. Immediately, Taehyung flinches back. “We were good together.”

“We fucked,” Taehyung pronounces, holding on to that tiny bit of venom in his voice for dear life. He honestly has no idea where all this is even coming from, the last time he checked, there were absolutely no strings attached to the casual situationship he’s had with Eunchan. “Like three times. We were never a couple. We aren’t even friends. You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, I know you, Taehyung,” Eunchan says, and he’s still coming closer, they’re almost all the way in Taehyung’s living room by now. “I know you’re an insatiable little bitch for attention. You act like you’re too good for everyone, when in reality, you just can’t stand the thought of someone not wanting you around.”

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room at once, the noise of it a mind-numbing rush, and then Taehyung’s left in this suffocating vacuum, and it feels like someone’s punched him in the chest, and it’s really fucking impossible to breathe.

Eunchan is right. Of course he is.

In a futile attempt at self-soothing, Taehyung pulls his blazer tighter around himself, ignores the slight vibration of his phone in its pocket, and hugs his arms around his middle. He has to say something, he knows that, has to protest and argue and discuss.

But he can’t.

He can’t do anything when Eunchan comes yet another step closer, towering over him in a way that automatically prompts him to retreat further. The backrest of his couch is there to meet the back of his thighs, and he realises with a start that they've somehow made it to the living room already.

“That’s how I know it’s fake, you and that guy.” Before Taehyung can stop him, one of Eunchan’s knees wedges itself between his legs, pries them apart. His right hand comes up and touches his jaw, and when Taehyung tries to twist his face away, he grabs his chin. Tightly. Too tightly. “You’re a good fuck, Taehyung. You’re pretty and sexy and hot… But who would ever want more than that with you?”

It’s so different, Eunchan’s touch and his words in opposition to Jeongguk’s. It sounds like an insult, a poor attempt at breaking him down until he’s small enough to fold himself into the mould Eunchan’s decided is fit for him.

He’s not going to let him do that.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” he growls and when Eunchan doesn’t comply immediately, he grips his wrist and pulls the hand still clutching at his chin off. 

Eunchan chuckles, and the sound of it, low and breathy and haughty, makes Taehyung’s blood boil with hatred. “Oh, now you don’t want them? You were so desperate for them two months ago.”

All Taehyung wants at this point is to scream. He won’t be gaslighted into believing him and Eunchan had anything more than a few occasional hook ups.

With squared shoulders, he pushes up from where he’s sunk down on the backrest of the sofa and gets all up in Eunchan’s face. “Look, I don’t know what you hoped for when you waited for me in front of my apartment like a creepy stalker, but let me tell you this.”

Tiredness is weighing his bones down, but the way Eunchan backs away when Taehyung starts pushing against him is enough satisfaction and assurance to boost his confidence back up.

“I’m not going to have angry make-up sex with you right now, or whatever weird fantasy you’re trying to bring about here. I won’t get on my knees for you, not now, not ever again. It’s not happening, you and me are not happening. Even if I wasn’t dating someone else, it doesn’t matter.” He pauses for a moment to catch Eunchan’s gaze. “No matter how much attention you think I need, trust me, I don’t need yours. I don’t want it.”

Eunchan doesn’t move. He stares back at Taehyung, and Taehyung almost thinks he’s won, but then his tensed up face relaxes into an expression that is so friendly, it’s scary.

“Fine,” he says, lifting up his hands next to his shoulders to admit defeat as he takes one, two steps back.

Taehyung isn’t stupid enough to trust him.

“Alternatively.”

Yup, there it is.

With a shrug, Eunchan adds, “Since you’re so famous that you’re in all the papers now… How about you share some of that big boy money? You wouldn’t want your reputation in shambles so soon just because someone put out to the press that your dreamy relationship is based on cheating and lies.”

Frozen in place, Taehyung blinks at him. “Wha–”

“I at least deserve to be a paid actor in what I’m sure is largely responsible for you even getting to this point, don’t you think?”

There’s so much white-hot anger zipping through Taehyung, it feels like he’s fuming. “I–”

“Eh.” Eunchan lifts a finger between them, and it’s such a silly gesture, it makes Taehyung feel like a stupid child, but it does shut him up nonetheless. “If I were you I’d be careful with my words from now on.”

Fuck this. Taehyung’s chest is rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. “The sex tape was your fucking idea.”

“I didn’t know you’d be stupid enough to get hacked.”

Taehyung wants to throw his hands up in the air. He doesn’t understand how he got from the lovely evening spent at Jeongguk’s parents’ house to here. How everything managed to get a hundred times messier in the last twenty minutes alone.

“What?” Eunchan pushes his bottom lip out in mock pity. “Look at you. Apparently too expensive to be touched by anyone making less than eight figures a year these days, but still can’t afford to pay for his own mistakes.”

“You make me sick.”

“Aw, you’re cute, pouting like that.” Eunchan grins wickedly. “But this is not how you wanna talk to me, remember? One well-placed email and what you’ve built up so far is right back to ground zero.”

Defeat tugs heavily on Taehyung’s heart. He has no energy left to deal with this right now. His brain feels completely overrun by everything that’s happened today, and he hasn’t had even a second to begin sorting through it all. In a quick flash, he wishes Jimin or Hoseok were with him so they could tell him how to handle the situation – but then his stomach flips and sinks all the way into the pit of his belly when he realises he’s too proud, way, way too proud to admit this is happening to him.

Similar as it is with Jeongguk, this is his problem alone, and he’ll deal with it.

“How much do you want?”

“Ah, we’re getting somewhere.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “How much, Eunchan?”

“Hm,” Eunchan hums. He buries his hands in the pockets of his black joggers, weighing back and forth on his feet as if he genuinely has to think about an answer. His aloofness only fuels the rage inside Taehyung. “One fifty.”

“I swear to fucki–” Taehyung bites the insides of his cheeks, forces himself to stay visibly calm. “One fifty what?”

“Million.”

He chokes. “Million?”

“Yeah. One-hundred-fifty million won,” Eunchan says as if he isn’t asking for the money Taehyung makes annually. “What, too much?”

“Fuck off.”

“Careful, I might just get more expensive.”

Taehyung closes his eyes. He really doesn’t know what it is he’s feeling anymore. The anger inside of him has grown so exasperated, has mixed with frustration, guilt, and fear, and now he kind of wants to cry.

“I’ll let you think about it,” Eunchan tells him lightheartedly. “I’m no villain. There’re a bunch of ways to go from here, I’ll let you decide.”

There aren’t. There’s practically nowhere to go from here. He certainly isn’t going to start sleeping with Eunchan again, that’s for sure. But he also can’t risk his and Jeongguk’s names to be attached to a cheating scandal that isn’t even true, which then would likely result in them having to publicly admit their relationship’s been nothing but a failed PR stunt.

He also doesn’t exactly have one-hundred-fifty million won to spare.

There’s no way he can tell his agency about this. Jimin and Hoseok would get legal forces involved, and then it’s a doomed race against time which Eunchan would surely win by firing off the email to the gossip paper of his choice before Taehyung’s team could even as much as think about suing him for blackmailing.

Plus, there’s no guarantee Eunchan wouldn’t ask for more once Taehyung’s paid him the sum.

“One-hundred-fifty million,” Taehyung says, blinking his eyes open. Eunchan is there to meet him. “I give you one-hundred-fifty million, and then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If you’re still acting like an ice prince by then,” Eunchan says. “Of course.”

“Be sure about that.”

Eunchan jerks his shoulders up and down. “You’ve warmed up to me pretty quickly before, you know. We’ll see.”

That he has indeed, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult for Taehyung to understand his reasons behind that. He’d been looking for a good time, and that’s what he got, all while knowing full well Eunchan isn’t someone he’d ever fall for or even consider anything serious with – but how could he have been so blind as to not realise what a giant, gaping asshole this man is?

“I’m not pressuring you,” Eunchan says, and if that isn’t the joke of the fucking century then Taehyung doesn’t know what is. The funniest part, possibly, is that Eunchan actually sounds like he believes his own words. “I’ll let you think about it. But not for too long.”

Hugging his arms back around himself, Taehyung stares at a point somewhere next to Eunchan’s right shoulder. He just wants this day to end already. At the moment, he’s betting everything on a good night’s sleep to clear his head enough to figure out the damage control.

Eunchan’s gaze flicks up and down his entire body, and he can’t help feeling a little dirty just from that. And then he’s coming closer again, reaching a hand out. “This suit looks so fucking good on you.”

“If you touch me I’ll break your fingers,” Taehyung warns him. His whole posture is rigid, and he’s actually afraid about what might happen if he were to lash out as soon as someone laid a hand on him right now.

Eunchan laughs, and the sound of it makes Taehyung grind his teeth. He doesn’t pull his hand back. “Damn, I really do like them bratty.”

Taehyung pushes him away by the wrist, lets go as soon as possible as if Eunchan’s skin is acidic. “Leave,” he says. “Get out.”

Another low chuckle followed by a nod. “Fine. But you think about what we talked about. Don’t leave me hanging for too long. You know, that’s in your best interest.”

The hostile glare Taehyung shoots his way is met by another one of those belittling grins. Eunchan raises his eyebrows at him as if he’s challenging him to stay, and when he doesn’t, he turns on his heels.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

Rooted to the spot with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, Taehyung watches him approach the front door, a joyful skip in his step. He waits until he’s all the way out of his apartment before he moves, walking over to the door in quick strides and locking it twice.

He lets his forehead thump against the wood, a wildly different feeling in his stomach than earlier, and then he spins around until his entire backside is leaned against it, and sinks down. The balls of his hands press into his eyes so hard, he sees stars.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

He’s fucked.

In his blazer’s pocket, his phone buzzes again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what–” With blurry vision, he scrambles to get the device out, half expecting to find a corny and infuriating text from Eunchan waiting for him.

It’s a text. Two texts, to be exact.

Not from Eunchan.

Molden Boy
got in safe?

Molden Boy
?

Taehyung honestly doesn’t know how many more dramatic pace changes of his heart rate he can take tonight.

Taehyung
yes all safe and sound
sorry didnt see your text
was washing up

Which is probably what he should be doing, but now that he’s sitting down, it’s kind of hard to get back up. To his surprise it doesn’t take even a minute for Jeongguk to read his message.

Molden Boy
good
no problem
:)

It’s so stupid and so silly, but the way a smile forms on Taehyung’s face is instantaneous. He tries to keep it at bay by biting his lip, but fails miserably.

Taehyung
i assume you got home ok too?

Molden Boy
yup! already in bed

Taehyung
you grandpa

Molden Boy
oi

With a devastated feeling in his head and heart, Taehyung leans his forehead against his propped up knees. Today made him realise once again how badly he’s got it for Jeongguk, and if he keeps being cute now all of a sudden, Taehyung’s really not sure how this mess’s going to play out in the end.

The screen of his phone dims from inactivity, but it lights back up when Jeongguk sends another message. Taehyung, smile still on his face, draws his eyebrows together. He didn’t know Jeongguk was capable of keeping up a conversation over text.

He hasn’t done that before.

Instead of a text message it’s a photo of Jeongguk’s bedroom ceiling. There’s darkness creeping in from the edges of the picture, but most of it is tinged in calming pinks and blues and purples, scattered white dots creating a sky full of stars.

Molden Boy
mood lamp ^▽^

Taehyung actually wants to cry.

Staring at his phone, he tries to figure out a reply that is more chill than what do you think about a sleepover, but comes up empty. He types and deletes a couple of messages, hoping Jeongguk isn’t camping on the other end of the line watching his mental breakdown happening in real time.

Taehyung
gonna take it with you to tokyo?

The read receipt pops up immediately. Next the three dots, bouncing merrily.

Molden Boy
guess you gotta come along to find out

Taehyung
im definitely tempted

After that, Jeongguk takes a while longer to reply. For a couple minutes, Taehyung tiptoes the line to insanity by staring at the read 11:08 PM, but then, in a sudden snap, he decides he doesn’t care.

He might not let Eunchan gaslight him, but he himself? Sure, why not, if it keeps him feeling like he’s still got some of his composure left.

On the way to the bathroom, he shrugs his blazer off and leaves it thrown over the armrest of the couch. He washes up quickly and then proceeds to slather on four different creams in hopes at least one of them might fix whatever the hell is feeling wrong inside his head.

His phone buzzes.

Greasy fingerprints get smeared all over the screen because he doesn’t even stop to get rid of the excess cream on his hands before tapping his way back into his and Jeongguk’s text thread.

Molden Boy
i had a lot of fun today

Taehyung closes his eyes for a couple seconds, and when he opens them next, he finds his reflection in the mirror looking tired but grinning fondly.

Molden Boy
i mean it was nice
meeting my parents
with you

The text bubbles appear one after the other, sent quickly back to back, and then there’s a pause, a long one which Taehyung spends trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, and then the three dots appear.

Disappear.

Reappear.

Disappear again.

Taehyung
it was really nice!!
i had a lot of fun too

The messages don’t get marked as read immediately, which by this point seems suspicious to Taehyung, so he quickly shoots another text in case Jeongguk’s feeling like he’s coming on too strong.

Taehyung
but if you throw me over your shoulder like that again
ill make sure to kick where it hurts

Jeongguk’s back almost immediately.

Molden Boy
don’t act like that wasn’t your favourite part of the day

Taehyung
aha same goes for you

Molden Boy
i’m not
definitely was

Taehyung has no idea what he’s doing, what they’re doing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so giddy and excited about flirting with someone over text.

If that’s even what they’re doing. Maybe it’s not. Maybe they’re just steadily moving towards a level of mutual civility. Maybe Jeongguk has realised as fun as their bickering is, holding an actual grudge against him is way too exhausting and also, in Taehyung’s humble opinion, stupid and unjustified. Maybe Jeongguk wants to be friends.

Molden Boy
the kois would’ve really liked you

Taehyung
maybe i can properly meet them another time

Molden Boy
so you’d let me throw you in the water

Taehyung
just say you want me wet and go

Staring at his last message, he feels his eyes widen. That might’ve gone one step too far too quickly.

Except.

Molden Boy
not gonna lie
i kinda do

Taehyung wonders if his time for suggesting that sleepover is up or not.

Molden Boy

bet you’d look like a poodle

Taehyung
thats not the insult you think it is

Molden Boy
who says i was trying to insult you
poodles are cute

Taehyung
so youre saying im cute

With his eyes glued to his phone, Taehyung slowly wanders into his bedroom. Earlier, Jimin and Hoseok helped him to get the major traces of his nervous breakdown over what to wear out of sight (it’d been mostly Hoseok, and by ‘help’ Taehyung means Hoseok did it by himself because he’s neat and productive and can’t stand the thought of leaving a mess behind even in someone else’s space), and he’s glad about it now, because it means he can just sink down on his bed without having to get rid of a pile of jeans first.

Jeongguk’s typing.

Molden Boy
sure if that helps you sleep at night

Taehyung
definitely does

Molden Boy
okay well
you’re really cute taehyung

Taehyung lets himself fall back on the mattress, his body bouncing a little bit from the force of it. He knows it’s dumb and Jeongguk’s just taking the piss, but what can he do.

Taehyung
thanks ill sleep like a baby tonight

Molden Boy
you’re welcome~

There’s truly no one more infuriating on this planet than Jeon Jeongguk, and every day Taehyung’s discovering new ways in which he manages to get him to the brink of madness.

Molden Boy
good night darling :) 

This is just one of them.

Taehyung rolls around and buries his face into one of his many pillows, letting out a noise that could either be classified as frustration or devastation or possibly both. The flutter in his belly is rising into his chest and it feels wild and warm and sweet, and he’s sure, so sure then, that he’s not going to let Eunchan ruin any of this.

Whatever it is and whatever it may become.

He’s going to have to work harder so that he can protect Jeongguk.

***

The next week is strange. Taehyung spends it in and out of office, numbly nodding yes to each and every casting opportunity presented to him by Jimin, and obsessively checking the social internet for any traces of Eunchan’s betrayal.

Nothing. So far.

On Wednesday, he receives the pictures that turned out well but didn’t make the final cut from his shoot with Levi’s. He’s allowed and encouraged to post those to his own feed to further assist with promotions, while the actual Buy better. Wear longer. campaign is ready to launch the upcoming Friday.

Seeing himself on a massive billboard downtown as he’s about to enter the subway station after his final workday of the week is crazy and surreal and, if he’s being honest, pretty fucking cool. It’s a video playing on loop, jumping quickly between him and the two others faces of the campaign. He’s arguably the least famous out of the three of them, but still, his is the final pose. He’s standing with his shoulders leaned back against a window made up of intricate mosaics, arms stretched far up over his head and crossed at the wrists, hips jutted out leisurely, with light and shadow dancing a quickstep over his face. As his wandering eyes blink and focus, captivating the camera, the video slows down, almost stops, and then the title of the ad appears.

On his way home, his phone buzzes, and he’s already scared it might be Eunchan tightening his ultimatum, but it turns out to be a new message from Jeongguk – which is equally as unnerving, but in a different way. It’s a screenshot of a text conversation with ‘Ma’ (it gets more and more endearing every time, Taehyung doesn’t want to get into it, thank you very much) and it shows her sending him a photo of the same ad Taehyung’s just watched on the billboard playing on the tv in her living room.

Molden Boy
she’s your #1 hypewoman

Grinning, Taehyung leans the side of his head against the pole he’s holding on to in the overcrowded subway.

Taehyung
are you jealous because she already loves me more than you?

Molden Boy
yes >:(

And then he kind of spends the whole weekend texting Jeongguk. Mostly, it’s just them bickering back and forth, but there’s a lightheartedness to it that has Taehyung’s cheeks hurting from smiling so much all throughout Saturday and Sunday. The things they say to each other frequently veer into flirting territory, but neither of them ever take it to anything more concrete.

It cheers Taehyung up a bunch, even though the flips of his stomach grow more and more daring with each new text message.

On Sunday evening, Jeongguk calls him. Out of nowhere. Taehyung’s halfway through the first episode of a new show that caught his eye on Netflix’s front page, and he promptly loses all interest when his phone lights up with Jeongguk’s contact name.

Jeongguk doesn’t outright ask about Tokyo again, but Taehyung hears the underlying question pressing against every single one of his words. It’s a little funny, how chill Jeongguk’s clearly pretending to be, and it’s extra funny considering the already packed suitcase ready for departure in Taehyung’s bedroom. Jimin told him he’d be going at the beginning of the week, and he’d thought Jeongguk to be in the know about it, but apparently not.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Titanic?” Jeongguk’s appalled voice echoes through the phone.

Taehyung is hanging upside down from his couch. The blood rushing to his head makes for an excellent excuse for his rosy cheeks. Across from him, the tv is playing on mute, but he hasn’t paid attention to it in – he briefly pulls his phone away from his ear to check the timer counting the minutes of their call – ah yes, one and a half hours.

How did that happen? It doesn’t feel like they’ve been talking for that long.

“That movie is like five hours long.”

“Three,” Jeongguk argues, as if that makes it better in any way. “And that you’ve never watched it is unacceptable. A crime. A serious gap in your education.”

Snorting, Taehyung sits up. He’s starting to feel a little lightheaded. “You’re dramatic.”

“He died for her.”

“Sounds kinda excessive, if you ask me personally.”

“Well,” Jeongguk huffs. “I didn’t.”

“Oh my God.” Taehyung hides his laugh behind his hand. He leans back into the sofa cushions, legs pulled up to his chest, comfortable. “You’re getting properly appalled by this, aren’t you. Are you pouting? Aw.”

Defence makes Jeongguk’s voice climb an octave higher. “I just don’t get how you haven’t seen the greatest romance movie of all time!”

It’s hard to keep the dreamy sigh to himself. It’s so cute. Jeongguk’s so cute. It’s becoming an actual, substantial problem in Taehyung’s life. “Well, why would I? You just told me he freaking dies.”

“Because he loves her.”

“Obsessive.”

“Romantic.”

“Look, I’m not convinced.” Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He’s joking – for the most part. Deep down, he’s a sucker for a good tragic romance, but he’s attended too many Netflix and Chill movie dates that he now can’t help but view them as a cheesy gateway into his pants.

A disbelieving huff sounds from the other end of the line. The rustling of fabric. “I’m not having it.”

Biting his lip, Taehyung lets his head tip sideways against the backrest of the couch. It’s adorable, how genuinely aggravated Jeongguk’s getting over this. The specifics of his taste in films left aside, he’s obviously being honest with him, and somehow, that means a lot.

“No?” Taehyung asks, the amusement audible in his voice.

“No,” Jeongguk says, stubborn.

The line is quiet for a few seconds. Taehyung wonders where Jeongguk is right now – in his living room just like him? In his bed? – as he waits for him to talk more. But the word just remains hanging between them elusively.

Taehyung leaves it for a little while longer, listening intently to the silence coming from Jeongguk and trying his best to correctly guess what it means. He doesn’t want to say something wrong, but he catches a few intakes of breath on Jeongguk’s part, clear signs of hesitation, and figures it has to be him who nudges them another tiny step forward.

Not that he has a problem with that. He doesn’t, really doesn’t, but his hands feel clammy all of a sudden nonetheless.

“So.” His voice is a little quieter now, a little slower. “Gonna make me watch it?”

Jeongguk’s “For sure.” is immediate, as if he’s been waiting. He’s matching the overall tone of Taehyung’s voice but speaks a little quicker, and Taehyung both does and doesn’t know what this means. He has no real idea what they’re doing anymore, but what he does know is that he doesn’t want it to stop.

“Mhm,” he hums, stretching his legs out and grabbing one of the cushions to hug it tightly to his chest in an attempt to channel his nervous energy some place other than the tremble in his voice. “When?”

Now, he can’t hear Jeongguk breathing anymore. The quietness between them is so charged, it feels like it might spontaneously electrocute Taehyung if he were to move even an inch.

“Dunno,” Jeongguk says after a minute or so, and there it is again, that over-pronounced nonchalance in his tone. “When do you have time?”

See, Taehyung wishes he were as cool and composed in real life around Jeongguk as he pretends to be over text. There used to be a time, not too long ago, where acting aloof and unbothered around him was easy, but that’s not the case anymore. Something between them has changed, and then changed again, and now the boundaries are all watery and blurry and confusing and exciting.

So, yeah, he blurts out his answer. “Day after tomorrow?”

There’s rustling from Jeongguk again. This time, it’s shorter, followed by more of a dull thud, and yeah, he’s definitely in bed, and he definitely just let himself fall back into the sheets, and Taehyung doesn’t know what to do with this information except let his inner self perform this weird mixed media performance of screaming and swooning.

“Oh.” There’s disappointment in Jeongguk’s voice, and it’s only more evident by the way he’s trying to conceal it. “Can’t. I’ll be in Japan.”

For just a second, Taehyung’s hand curls into the fabric of the pillow, lifting it up and dumping it directly on his face. He feels warm all over, and his face hurts so much from all the stupid grinning.

“What a coincidence,” he says, voice only slightly muffled by the pillow, and he’s relaxed, he’s chill, so chill – just as chill as Jeongguk. “Same.”

The silence that follows is deafening. It’s heavy, like a thick blanket draped over Taehyung’s entire body in the heat of summer, pinning him in place and slowly suffocating him. They’ve drifted into unknown waters, seemingly without noticing, and whatever Jeongguk says next will determine if they can grab the lifebuoy back into safe territory or if they’re along for whatever adventure Tokyo holds for them.

“So it’s a date, then.”

The pillow falls off Taehyung’s face and leaves him staring at the ceiling, utterly dumbfounded. It takes one, two, three seconds for the meaning of Jeongguk’s words to catch up with their sound, and once it does, all the butterflies in Taehyung’s stomach that have been lazily fluttering around for the past couple hours suddenly multiply and go positively mad. They take off in a storm, zooming in every little crevice and corner of his body, all the way down into the tips of his toes, making his feet kick like a giddy teenager.

A date.

A date.

He hadn’t actually expected this mindless flirting to go anywhere, but now that it clearly is going places, it feels like he’s been playing with fire only to discover he loves the burn.

He clears his throat. Pushes his curls away from his forehead and ignores how feverish his skin feels. 

“I guess so,” he says, and he’s thankful his voice doesn’t betray him right then. “Better make it worthwhile.”

“You’re gonna cry.”

“Is that a threat, Jeon?”

“Bet.”

Scooting further down on the couch so he’s properly on his back, Taehyung throws his long legs up and halfway over the backrest. He feels oddly out of breath. His fingers start toying with the hem of his t-shirt. “Looking forward to it.”

There’s a noise again that tells Taehyung Jeongguk’s likely rolling onto his stomach in his bed. His voice is softer than expected when he replies, “Me too.”

God, Taehyung is done for.

“Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

There’s the sound of that pout again, and Taehyung can’t help but smirk, even though Jeongguk can’t see him. “‘Cause you didn’t ask again.”

Jeongguk groans. There’s something about that sound that makes Taehyung close his eyes and bite his lip, hard. “You’re…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“Mhm.” Taehyung lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I love when you talk dirty to me. More.”

“Idiot.”

“That one was lacking.”

“Asshole.”

“Fuck.”

Jeongguk’s laugh is low and breathy. It makes Taehyung shiver.

There are another couple moments of quietness, and they’re as loaded as the ones before, but somehow they also feel almost… comfortable.

“So I’ll meet you at the airport?” Jeongguk asks finally.

“I think so.”

“Or I could pick you up.”

God. Jesus. Man. Fuck. What is going on?

Not that Taehyung is complaining.

“Or you could pick me up.”

“Flight’s at nine,” Jeongguk says, and then he pauses for the short while it takes him to calculate the time it takes to get to Incheon International Airport. “So… seven?”

Taehyung nods. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Rustling again. “Hey, how’s it eleven already?”

Smiling, Taehyung shrugs. “Dunno. You tired?”

“Kind of? If you call me grandpa again I’m leaving you behind at the airport.”

“You started the whole age shaming thing by calling me ancient!” Taehyung argues, laughing.

“Yeah, and I’m deciding to end it now.”

“Mhm, assertive.”

Jeongguk makes a noise of annoyance again, but his own grin is clearly audible through it. “I’m going.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says. “Go on, hang up.”

A snort from Jeongguk. “You hang up.”

“Not everything is a challenge, Jeon.”

“Or is it, darling.”

They end up staying on the phone for well over another hour. Taehyung’s aware it might not be a decision made in his sleep schedule’s best interest, and he says as much, and Jeongguk agrees, but none of them make any further attempts at ending the conversation.

It’s past midnight when Taehyung finally falls into his bed, pleasantly sleepy, with Jeongguk’s soft “Good night, Taehyung.” still echoing through his head.

Chapter Text

Spotted: South Korea’s Golden Boy Holding Hands with New Beau at Incheon International Airport

It’s true, folks, they got it for each other, and they got it BAD. If the countless Instagram posts weren’t enough of an indicator, it’s more than clear now: Seoul Tigers player Jeon Jeongguk is officially off the market. Up until now, aside from a cheeky grin at the cameras, the World Cup player has kept the seals on any direct commentary on his new relationship, but it seems like he just can’t refrain from shouting it from the rooftops anymore!

This morning, the couple was seen being all cosy while boarding the Tigers’ private aircraft leaving for the upcoming Tigers vs. Diamonds game in Tokyo later today. If Jeongguk’s bringing his lover along to meet his teammates and root for him in the stands, it’s safe to say things must be pretty serious.

Tuned IN has done the research, and here’s every dirty little secret YOU need to know about Kim Taehyung, the new sweetheart in the life of our favourite man on the field.  ≫

On an overcast but humid Tuesday morning, Taehyung has a revelation, and said revelation is that private jets are freaking awesome.

He can count on one hand the number of times he’s flown in an aeroplane and would still have the majority of his fingers left, and now this – this is easily the best experience he’s had so far, and he’s so going to enjoy every second to the fullest. 

Jeongguk picked him up bright and early, sitting in his car with fluffy hair, wearing comfortable black cargo pants and a dark grey Nike hoodie and overall looking like the yummiest breakfast Taehyung could possibly imagine. The hour it took them to get to the airport was spent mostly in silence apart from the slow acoustic songs sounding from the speakers, and all Taehyung could think about was how natural it’d felt to intertwine his fingers with Jeongguk’s the last time they’d been in this car.

Several paparazzi had waited for them before the entrance. The way to the check-in counter was a blur of shouts, flashing lights, and the press of Jeongguk’s reassuring hand against the small of his back. It stayed there for the entire procedure of getting their passports checked, thumb swiping up and down Taehyung’s skin over the material of his shirt before his fingers slipped into the belt hoops of the loose fitting pair of jeans he’d decided to wear.

Taehyung very nearly forgot his own name when the polite woman behind the counter asked him in order to compare it to the one on his ID and the one written down on the list of passengers registered for the flight.

“You’re about to meet a whole bunch of people,” Jeongguk warns him as they make their way over a concrete field towards a jet with the South Korean flag printed boldly on its left side. Two people dressed in similar Nike tracksuits are trotting ahead of them. “Don’t worry about learning their names right away, most of them’ll wear shirts with theirs on the back anyway.”

“Oh.” Taehyung shrugs, feigning aloofness. “That’s how I remember yours, actually.”

“That right?” At once, Jeongguk flexes his hand and pulls him further into his side. It’s all sweet honeysuckle smell and warmth there, a thrilling feeling, being so close to him, feeling the tips of his fingers dig into his hip, and it’s only amplified by the words murmured into his ear, “Gotta make sure it sticks from now on, then.”

Swallowing down his nerves, Taehyung turns his head and quirks his eyebrows. They’re way too close again, their noses almost brushing. “Yeah? How’re you gonna do that?”

The grin tugging traitorously on the corners of Jeongguk’s mouth is dangerous, and Taehyung really – really should know by now. But he’s transfixed, his eyes are raking up and down Jeongguk’s face and his brain is too busy processing all of it, the visuals, the overwhelming desire to breach that little bit of remaining distance already, and the self-control it takes not to do it.

So, the jab in the ribs takes him off guard. Doesn’t matter that it’s approximately the fourth hundredth time Jeongguk’s done it, doesn’t matter that Taehyung should be expecting it by this point.

“Ouch!” He can’t squirm away very far, the grip Jeongguk’s right hand has on his hip still tight like a vise. “Jeongguk!”

The stupid grin finally splits his stupid face, showing his teeth and scrunching up his nose. “That was easy.”

“I hate you,” Taehyung mutters. He ignores the fact that he doesn’t even try to retain something even close to a respectable distance between his and Jeongguk’s bodies anymore. There’s such a turmoil of emotion going on inside him at all times these days: the intrigue of what might happen if he were to push it just one step too far, the paralysing fear of rejection, and the caution keeping in mind everything that is at stake.

Jeongguk seems oblivious to it all. “Sounded so good,” he sighs, and he’s still speaking directly into Taehyung’s ear, that’s how close they are. “Say it again.”

With a low huff, which Taehyung hopes comes off as slightly annoyed but mostly unbothered, he turns his head, causing their noses to almost brush together. “I hate you.”

It’s mind-boggling, the way Jeongguk doesn’t retreat back at all. “No,” he pouts. He pouts. Taehyung’s had enough of this, he’s not even on the plane yet and he already wants to fling himself off. “My name. Say my name again.”

The word is at the tip of Taehyung's tongue, like he's compelled. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to say no to Jeongguk, to resist him in every way, but Taehyung’s not going to lose this fight.

He brings his head forward just a tad further. Nudges their noses together. Smiles sweetly. “In your dreams.”

The tension between them is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Jeongguk looks momentarily stunned – or maybe Taehyung’s just imagining the way his eyes flick up and down his face one, two, three times, as if they’re unable to focus properly, as if they react to some kind of magnetism exuding from Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung’s not going to let him have the satisfaction of being the one to pull away again, and he goes to take a step to the side, diffuse the situation by bringing them at least an arm’s length apart, and he’s doing well, it’s working, his head is already clearing the weaker Jeongguk’s hold on his hip becomes, but then –

Jeongguk’s fingers slip into the back pocket of his jeans and pull. It’s not enough for Taehyung to stumble, but it is enough to get him to whirl around and stagger right back into Jeongguk’s arms.

Blinking frantically, he tries to calm his heart rate back to an acceptable pace. The more he concentrates on the exact placement of Jeongguk’s hand on his body right now, the more his head feels like it’s filling up with water.

“Seriously?”

“I’m waiting.”

“Jeongguk!” The name rings through the air like an alarm. It’s not Taehyung who says it but Min Yoongi, who’s standing at the top of the staircase leading up to the passenger entrance to the aircraft, not too far from them. He’s gesturing wildly. “I swear to God, I don’t care that you’re our most valuable player, if we miss kick off time because of your weird courtship dance, you’re unemployed.”

Howling laughter sounds from behind him, and Taehyung feels an uncomfortable heart race up into his cheeks. He lowers his head, clears his throat. Next to him, Jeongguk does the same, his hands falling off Taehyung’s body and instead burying themselves in the pockets of his cargo pants.

Off to a great start.

Once inside the aircraft, Taehyung’s mind is taken off Jeongguk for a while. He’s too busy staring. It’s like he’s entered a living room. Before stepping into the passenger cabin, there’s a loveseat decorated with fluffy cushions right next to the door. Ambient lighting shines from the ceiling. Soft music is playing. Walking in further, each side of the large, tube-shaped room lined with comfortable looking armchairs upholstered with expensive, cream-coloured leather. They’re divided in sets of two, facing each other.

“Six and seven,” Jeongguk tells him, already leading the way.

There are many people milling about, some of the faces familiar to Taehyung from Jeongguk's games he's followed on tv, others he's never seen before. The air is bustling with animated chatter and lighthearted laughter, thuds and thumps as the different players store away their carry-on bags.

It’s pleasantly cool inside the plane, the air con doing a good job at keeping out the humidity of an early summer’s day, and Taehyung already regrets not packing a jumper. He adjusts his bag on his shoulder, smiling at the unknown faces nodding at him in greeting as he trots after Jeongguk.

They pass by Yoongi, whose eyes roll behind the pair of glasses he’s put on for the day (Taehyung contemplates asking him for a selfie just so he can send it to Jimin and watch the world burn), and Namjoon, who’s dressed neatly in slacks and a shirt with the top buttons undone, something Taehyung wouldn’t have expected from the team’s coach.

Jeongguk shoves his bag into the overhead compartment with one hand, the other stretched out in Taehyung’s direction, clearly waiting for him to hand his own luggage over. Ignoring him, Taehyung steps closer to deposit the bag himself. That earns him a slightly annoyed huff and a gentle hip check from Jeongguk.

With their carry-ons out of the way, Taehyung throws a quick glance up and down the interior of the plane. He’s not really sure what the proper etiquette is here – should he introduce himself? – but everyone’s already getting seated, and Yoongi seems progressively more stressed with every passing second, so he decides to remain quiet and slowly sinks down onto the seat meant for him.

Jeongguk, still standing in the middle of the aisle and half caught up in exchanging hellos and how-are-yous with his teammates, stretches his hands over his head, and it takes a moment for Taehyung to register he’s taking off his hoodie. The black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath lifts with the movement, just a little bit but enough for Taehyung to catch the tiniest hint of the defined muscles on the lower bit of Jeongguk’s stomach above the waistband of his pants.

When he catches him staring, Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, head still sticking out the hoodie’s neckline. “What. I run hot.”

Every time Taehyung thinks he’s got a grip on himself, life decides to get just a tad bit more unfair. He’s way too distracted by the tease of skin as well as the way Jeongguk’s shirt sleeves roll up, exposing more of his inked arm than he’d been able to catch a glimpse of before. He can’t even find it in himself to react to the fact that it makes zero sense that Jeongguk would wear the hoodie out in the July heat but shrug it off as soon as he’s entered a chillier space, meaning there’s only one explanation for why he’s doing it.

It’s on purpose. The fucker knows exactly what he’s doing.

Is it too late for Taehyung to make a run for it?

Jeongguk takes the hoodie the rest of the way off before (sadly) pulling his t-shirt back into place. 

And then he holds it out in Taehyung’s direction.

The gesture is so genuine and simple, so instinctive, like it’s just a thing he does, and Taehyung is just sitting there, gawking up at him.

Jeongguk wiggles his hand, brows jumping up and down intently. There’s no way of telling if this is another publicity stunt or not. The rest of the Tigers team doesn’t look all that interested in them.

“You look cold.”

Are the goosebumps on his arms that obvious? Taehyung rubs his hands up and down them a couple of times, which isn’t really helping his case when he shakes his head no.

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk leans over and drops the hoodie in Taehyung’s lap. “Put it on.”

If his shiver wasn’t obvious before, it surely is now. He kind of wants to push it, is tempted to make just a little bit of a scene to see where that might take Jeongguk, but the doors of the plane are being shut noisily now, plus there are so many people around them.

After kneading the hoodie in his hands for a few seconds, begging his silly heart to calm down, he decides fuck it, and quickly shoves it over his head. It’s soft and warm against his skin, and it smells so much like sweet honeysuckle, so much like Jeongguk, that he’s in actual danger of passing out from how dizzy he suddenly feels.

He feels Jeongguk’s eyes on him the entire time, and he looks rooted to the spot somehow, with his eyebrows still quirked, as if he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. His lips are slightly parted, and that’s such a good look on him, this openly stunned expression etched in every one of his features, Taehyung wants to see it all the time now.

The tinkling jazz flowing from the overhead speakers is interrupted by a beep and a female voice narrating an announcement. The last seatbelts are fastened. One of Jeongguk’s teammates reaches over from across the aisle and, with a hearty laugh, slaps his butt, hard, causing him to spring back into action.

After clicking his own seatbelt into place, Taehyung pulls the sleeves over his hands. The hoodie had a comfortable fit on Jeongguk, which means it’s properly oversized on Taehyung’s lankier frame, and it’s so comfortable, he kind of wants to pull up the hood and fall asleep in it.

No one pays the safety instructions echoing through the cabin any mind. Taehyung explores the area around his seat with great interest, sending a wide-eyed glance of total awe Jeongguk’s way once he discovers he can adjust the colour of the lighting in their little seating nook.

Jeongguk huffs a laugh before scooting his hips a little more forward and getting properly comfortable in his chair. His legs are stretched out all the way, and while there is space between the two seats, it’s not that much.

This is a whole new level of manspreading, Taehyung thinks as he nudges his foot against Jeongguk’s.

Jeongguk nudges back.

Taehyung glares. Kicks his foot with a little more insistence.

With one quick move, Jeongguk traps his foot between his ankles. He looks up, and his teeth are showing as he grins, and that is more than enough to immediately get Taehyung to relax.

Their feet remain tangled up for the entire time it takes for the plane to launch into the air.

***

The flight is set to take just a little over two hours, and for the first ten minutes, Taehyung contents himself with tapping his way through the board entertainment. There’s an impressive selection of movies and tv shows. Taehyung’s tempted to dive right in, but no one else on the plane seems as intrigued as him, the steady chatter swelling back up around him once the seatbelt signs overhead are switched off.

“Found anything interesting?”

“Yeah.” He presses the off button on the small tv screen and folds it back into the armrest of his chair. “They have the latest seasons of some anime I haven’t caught up with yet. And the latest Marvel movie, you know, I thought that was still in cinemas? And Solitaire. God, you don’t know how much of an ace I am in Solitaire.”

Jeongguk chuckles, and when Taehyung looks up, he finds him with his phone lifted and pointed at him. His legs are still all the way in Taehyung’s personal bubble.

“Oi, what’s that about.” Taehyung blinks at the phone’s camera. “This is a violation of privacy.”

“Sorry,” Jeongguk says, and he sounds the least sorry he’s ever sounded. “It’s just cute how excited you are.”

Abruptly frozen in place, Taehyung feels his mouth fall open ever so slightly. He’s acutely aware of the camera still pointed at him, even though it seems like Jeongguk’s realising his own words now, judging by the way his hands tremble just a bit.

“I see, you two are still in the disgusting phase, aren’t you.”

Taehyung jumps at the sudden voice. Jeongguk drops his phone in his lap with a dull sound. He pulls his legs back in, leaving Taehyung’s feet alone in the space between their seats.

The guy from across the aisle has turned his entire chair – apparently they can swivel around, Taehyung learns with yet another wave of amazement – around so that he’s facing them. He’s got a round, friendly face, and his smile is kind of heart-shaped and wide, which reminds Taehyung of Hoseok.

“Can you believe this guy tells me he’s ready to become the international playboy,” Jeongguk’s teammate raises his leg to kick him gently against the side of his shin, “and then ends up in a committed relationship with the first person he dates in years.”

“Classic Jeongguk move,” the man in the seat across from him comments. He’s got his last name stitched on the left side of the tracksuit jacket he’s wearing, but it’s too far away for Taehyung to decipher.

“Totally.”

Taehyung snorts, throwing a look Jeongguk’s way. With an audience, he finds it a little easier to get the grip back on himself. “The international playboy.”

There’s a hint of red creeping up the side of Jeongguk’s neck. “I was drunk when I said that.”

I’m not really one for casual anything, Taehyung remembers his words.

“So drunk,” the guy with the heart-shaped smile confirms with a laugh. “Man, I love wasted Jeonggukie, he says funny things.”

“When he’s still able to talk…” the other guy throws in.

Jeongguk cuts both of them a glare, but Taehyung immediately spots the familiarity in it. Clearly, these three have been on the team together for quite some time. They seem like good friends.

“Anyway,” smiley guy says, reaching his hand over for Taehyung to shake. “Good to finally meet you personally, Taehyung. Your man’s been keeping mysteriously quiet about you. I’m Choi Seoho. You know, the one on the team who actually scores the goals.”

Suddenly shifting in his seat, Jeongguk turns his own chair to the side, kicking his legs in Seoho’s direction unceremoniously.

“Hey!” Yoongi’s voice hollers from the front of the cabin. A grin tugs at the corners of Taehyung’s mouth. He sounds like an underpaid teacher taking his class on a field trip. “You know the rules. No kicking each other before the game.”

Pushing his bottom lip out, Jeongguk pulls his legs back. He’s so adorable, Taehyung has to physically restrain himself so he doesn’t coo out loud.

He decides to diffuse the situation by taking Seoho's hand that is still hovering mid-air in the aisle. “Good to meet you too.”

The conversation taking shape between them is surprisingly pleasant and engaging. The other guy introduces himself as Seong Hajin, and Taehyung quickly comes to the conclusion that these two of Jeongguk’s teammates at first glance seem to be the kind of guy he typically avoids whenever he hits the gym, but they turn out to be quite funny and respectful. Plus, they’re both older than Jeongguk by a year, and they tease him about it mercilessly, which is music to Taehyung’s ears and balm for his soul.

Breakfast is served at some point, and it is not the kind of gross aeroplane food in those silver plastic dishes Taehyung’s once eaten on the one flight he’s taken with his parents to Jeju Island before his siblings were born. It’s fresh fruits and Korean pancakes and fancy oat concoctions that look nothing like the sad porridge meal Taehyung sometimes forces down when he needs the extra energy in the morning.

The rest of the Tigers introduce themselves one after the other, along with some of their significant others (there aren’t that many, only two, and they don’t seem all too keen on getting to know him) and some of the backroom staff, and Jeongguk was right, it is difficult to keep up with their names, but Taehyung’s got enough charms not to let his disorientation show.

It helps that Jeongguk is there, right next to him as soon as he decides to get up to properly mingle with the other people on board in the spacious common area – a common area. on a plane. – with his arm wrapped loosely around his waist and half his words muttered into Taehyung’s ear.

It’s almost a relief when they’re alerted to return to their seats for the landing. Taehyung seriously doesn’t know how much longer he could’ve dealt with Jeongguk making sure to keep him close by his freaking belt hoops without dragging him off to the nearest bathroom.

Which… that would be a first, even for Taehyung. Not that he’s opposed to it.

Compared to Seoul, their arrival in Tokyo is quiet. There’s a bus waiting to pick them up and escort them to the hotel they’ll be spending the night at, and Taehyung is asked to wait behind on the aeroplane until the players are safely seated and join them after a few minutes.

As it’s planned for them to go back home before noon tomorrow, the bus drive is likely the only kind of sightseeing Taehyung will get while he’s in Japan, so naturally, he’s draped halfway across Jeongguk’s lap, nose pressed up against the window to take in as much as possible. Jeongguk lets him and doesn’t complain, the only acknowledgement Taehyung gets is the timid hand rubbing up and down his back.

Kick-off time is set for six thirty. There's still ways to go until then, but there’s already a noticeable pep in Jeongguk’s step once they arrive at the hotel and he leads Taehyung down a corridor laid out with expensive burgundy carpet that deafens their every move on the way to their shared room.

711. 713. Jeongguk stops in front of the door labelled 715. It’s the last one on this floor, the entrances to the rooms spaced out noticeably.

Jeongguk turns around halfway and holds the keycard out for Taehyung. When Taehyung raises his eyebrows at him in bewilderment, he shrugs and wiggles his hand.

“Yo, Jeon,” Seoho calls from down the corridor. He’s got a hand on the handle of the door leading to his own room and the most impish grin on his face. “Remember we’re leaving in forty minutes. No funny business.”

Huffing a laugh, Jeongguk moves the arm further away from Taehyung, and when Taehyung turns his head, he sees him proudly showing his middle finger to the giggling Seoho.

Before Taehyung can lose his nerve, he plucks the card out of Jeongguk’s hand and scans it against the door. The lock clicks, the handle gives. Immediately, Jeongguk’s arm is there, braced against the wood to push it open for Taehyung to pull his suitcase inside.

“I can open doors myself, you know,” Taehyung lets him know, but there’s no bite to his voice. “I’m not weak.”

“I know you’re not,” Jeongguk replies calmly, manoeuvring his own suitcase and duffle bag into the room. “Trust me, I didn’t mean to imply that.”

The back of Taehyung’s neck prickles. He’s got goosebumps again, despite still wearing Jeongguk’s stupid comfortable hoodie.

The suite is bigger than anything they might need for just one night. To the left, past the wardrobe next to the entrance door, an arch in the wall leads to a small kitchen complete with a round dining table made out of glass for two, a candle and flower decorations placed meticulously in the middle. There’s a minibar stocked up with water, different juices, and miniature bottles of champagne.

Opposite the kitchen is the bathroom. Fluffy towels and robes on display. The shower alone takes up about a third of the room, and pastel-coloured scented candles are arranged along the side of the tub.

Straight ahead, the hallway opens up to the bedroom and lounge area. Taehyung stops in his tracks, his suitcase parked beside him, and allows himself to take in the entire expanse of the room. 

Everything smells like clean cotton. The flowy curtains filter the intense sunshine without cutting it out completely. There’s a small sofa and an armchair facing a massive tv hung up on the wall, a small stack of books placed artfully at the edge of the coffee table.

And then there’s the bed.

Like, the bed. Singular.

The millions of butterflies residing in Taehyung’s belly give one collective, nervous flutter. How has he not thought of this when he agreed to tag along? How is he supposed to keep his hands to himself when Jeongguk is literally under the same sheets as him?

He should’ve thought about all this before he went all out on his flirting game these past few days.

Closing his eyes and praying that Jeongguk doesn’t notice, he forces himself to take a deep breath. It’s not like this is a big deal. It’s not. There’s no problem. Whatever. He’s a normal  human being, he doesn’t mind sharing a bed with someone for a night.

But.

What he does mind is sharing a bed with the person he’s been crushing hard on.

Maybe he can sleep on the sofa.

He turns around to assess the situation (read: how much back pain is waiting for him), only to almost faceplant into Jeongguk. He’s placed his luggage to the side, and now he’s just there, right in front of Taehyung, and he’s looking at him like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Left or right?”

It’s impossible to focus. “What?”

“Which side?” Jeongguk asks. He’s too close. Taehyung wants to put the palm of his hand to his chest. “Of the bed.”

“Oh.” Taehyung swallows. “I don’t– I don’t care.”

Jeongguk’s eyes jump up and down his face as if he doesn’t quite believe him. But then he pushes past Taehyung, their shoulders brushing, and places his phone and its charger on the nightstand on the right side of the bed.

Still with his back facing him, Taehyung starts gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s not really sure why he’s acting like this. It’s not like he’s actually afraid some weird kind of primal urge is going to befall him once he’s in a horizontal position next to Jeongguk. Hell, he’s slept sort of next to Jeongguk on the couch in the Honeymoon Lodge, it’s not a problem.

Except back then he hadn’t felt like a lovestruck teenager next to him. Teasing Jeongguk and trying to push certain boundaries between them had been fun. Taehyung’s always had the upper hand, has always been the one in control. He knows what and how much to say to get the people to act like he wants them to. He knows how far he can take it, when to stop before it gets too serious.

But then, somewhere along the way, Jeongguk had started flirting back. And from then on, Taehyung’s been a lost cause.

It just happened so fast. It’s like Taehyung’s presented him with a challenge he’d thought invincible, and Jeongguk had taken it head on, with not a bat of an eye, no pause, no hesitation.

And now Taehyung’s faltering. Sure, their constant back and forth is exhilarating in a way he hasn’t felt in years, but he hadn’t planned to actually start liking the guy.

Thump. A pillow hits Taehyung’s back right between his shoulder blades, sending him into a sudden, unexpected lunge.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, you seemed stuck.”

Turning around, Taehyung throws the pillow back, but Jeongguk catches it easily with one hand. He’s plucked his phone into its charger, and Taehyung can see a text thread open on the screen.

“I’m…” He shakes his head. It’s enough. He has to stop letting Jeongguk see just how much of a goner he is. “Forget it. What’s the plan for today?”

Jeongguk locks his phone and pushes up from the mattress. “Well, I have to leave in like half an hour. Lunch, briefing, and then warm up.”

Nodding mutely, Taehyung holds his breath. There’s just something about the way Jeongguk moves that’s captivating to him, and now that he’s here in Japan with him, he’s growing more and more genuinely excited to watch him on the field.

“I don’t…” Jeongguk steps around him to grab his duffle bag and place it on the bed for easier access. Taehyung assumes it’s already packed with all the things he needs for the upcoming game. “I’m not really sure when you’ll be leaving. Aerin’s never– I mean. I’ve never had anyone here with me. Well, except for my parents once, but they didn’t stay in the same room as me, and I–”

“I’ll figure it out,” Taehyung interrupts him. A blush is creeping up Jeongguk’s neck again, and it’s cute, but he also seems genuinely concerned. “I’m probably going to leave together with the others, right? I’m just gonna ask them.”

“Right.” Jeongguk nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. He seems a little fidgety, as if there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to get there. “Is that okay or do you want me to…”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung says, taking a small step forward to assure Jeongguk he means it. “Really. You focus on your game and don’t worry about me. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Jeongguk unzips his duffle bag. There’s hesitation in his every move. He pauses, staring down at the bag. And then he turns his head, finding Taehyung’s gaze. “Speaking of the game. We want everyone to think we’re dating, right?”

Narrowing his eyes, Taehyung squints at him. There’s a slight huff of sarcasm to his voice when he speaks next, and no, that’s absolutely not something he uses to mask the nervous flutter in his chest. “Did you really just ask me this several weeks into this act?”

Jeongguk ducks his head. Taehyung can’t see it clearly, but he thinks he might be biting his lip shyly. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh oh, that can’t be good.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Jeongguk snaps his head back up. Taehyung is too preoccupied with grinning at the glare directed at him, he doesn’t notice Jeongguk’s hands blindly fumbling inside his bag until a bundle of fabric hits him in the chest.

“What’s it with you and throwing things today?” His fingers curl around the material. It feels soft and smooth, pretty lightweight, and as one look down confirms, scarlet red.

Taehyung has a pretty good idea what this is. He doesn’t even have to unfold it.

“You want us to go full couple costume?”

“Yeah.” There’s no uncertainty in the way he says it. It does something to Taehyung, Jeongguk’s confidence in what he wants. “Get the people talking.”

Taehyung shifts his hands, lets the jersey unfurl. Jeongguk’s last name and his number, a big bold 7, are printed on the back, the Nike swoosh and the outline of a tiger’s head on the front. His stomach is flipping in a mix of excitement and a strange feeling of possessiveness that comes with the prospect of having Jeongguk’s name on him.

But he’s not sure if this is enough to catch people’s attention. Sure, it’ll let even the last person know that there’s something going on between them, but flimsy allusions to their relationship aren't really the kind of publicity they're going for anymore.

They need something more concrete.

Something a little more scandalous.

“You want the people to talk?”

Jeongguk meets his eye. The silence that hangs between them for the two seconds it takes for him to answer feels deafening. “Yes.”

Taehyung drops the jersey onto the mattress. Takes another step closer. Pauses. Breathes. Asks, “What’s your opinion on hickeys?”

At first, there’s absolutely no change in the expression on Jeongguk’s face. Not that Taehyung thought there would be. He’s slowly coming to expect Jeongguk’s unpredictability. But the lack of reaction still sends a shock wave of nerves through his system. He stays rooted to the spot. Once again, there’s barely any distance between them, like they’re two magnets who can’t be kept apart for too long.

“You want me to give you a hickey?” Jeongguk asks finally, his voice slow, tentative.

Yes. Yes, Taehyung would like that very much, thank you.

Before he can trip over the thought too much, he shoves the mental image of Jeongguk’s mouth on him to the back of his head. He can come back to that later, or he can ignore it for all eternity in order to preserve at least some of his sanity.

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “You’re the one with all the cameras on you, baby.”

Jeongguk’s chest rises noticeably at the sound of the pet name. His eyes widen a little bit, and the blush from his neck has fully taken over both his ears at this point. He’s staring, and he’s breathing a little unsteadily, and there’s such a strange mix of emotions going on inside Taehyung; anxiety, anticipation, the sense of regained control.

“Okay.”

Taehyung feels the simple word pierce through his skin and sink into his bones. It becomes the force behind his actions, propels him forward, but it still feels like he’s moving through a thick wall of cotton.

Before either of them can think about it any more, they’re chest to chest. The Tigers jersey as well as Jeongguk’s duffle bag forgotten on the bed to their left.

There’s no way of rationalising how much Taehyung wants this. It’s not a job, not anymore, and he’s scared, so scared, of what’s going to happen after he kicks this off. He’s scared of what he wants to happen.

Jeongguk sizes him up, eyebrows raised. “Well?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Get on with it, then.”

It takes a lot of Taehyung’s self-control and persistence not to turn away and shove his own fist into his mouth. He doesn’t know if this way of talking, this slight haughtiness, really just comes natural to Jeongguk or if he’s figured out how to push all of Taehyung’s buttons.

It’s hot. He’s hot. Taehyung can’t be saved.

He’s really going to do this.

Lifting his right hand, he touches his index and middle finger to the sharp cut of Jeongguk’s jaw, watches, completely entranced, how Jeongguk’s eyes are desperately trying to focus on him as he leans closer, and then he applies the tiniest amount of pressure, gently forcing Jeongguk’s head to turn.

The tendons in his neck move. His shirt is baggy, with a slightly stretched out neckline, and Taehyung can spot a hint of collarbone.

He’s going to claim all of this.

There’s a tick in Jeongguk’s jaw, Taehyung feels it beneath his lips when he replaces his fingers with his mouth. Blood is rushing in his ears, but he’s sure he hears the sudden inhale that’s jerking through Jeongguk’s body.

Taehyung skirts his lips along the line of his jaw until he reaches the little hollow spot right beneath his ear. He’s not really kissing as much as he’s mapping out this little bit of Jeongguk’s body, thoroughly committing to memory.

“Gonna make it look real,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Jeongguk’s neck.

Jeongguk nods. Taehyung can’t see him, but his movements feel jolty somehow, as if they’re being punched out of his rigid body.

Concentrating firmly on keeping his hands pressed against the sides of his own body, Taehyung kisses him. He presses his mouth to Jeongguk’s throat, the skin hot against his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he begins a trail down to where Jeongguk’s shirt begins.

Jeongguk doesn’t shift in his stance, but Taehyung can feel his hands twitching traitorously next to his body. He skirts his teeth over the slightly protruding bone at Jeongguk’s collar and hums encouragingly.

And then he starts properly sucking on his skin.

At once, Jeongguk’s hands fly up, and before any of them can do something about it, they’re wrapped around Taehyung’s waist, digging in harshly and keeping him as close as possible.

Taehyung doesn’t leave it at one. It feels too good. It’s like an all-consuming rush, and nothing is going to stop him from moving his mouth up a little bit and biting and sucking again, this time harder.

The sound falling from Jeongguk’s mouth cuts through the room. It’s breathy, a sigh, and it sounds wrecked.

More of that. Taehyung wants more of that.

He brings his hands up, rests one against Jeongguk’s chest while the other pushes into the hair at the back of his head. It’s soft to the touch and just the right length for Taehyung to properly bury his fingers in.

Jeongguk sags against him. Another noise escapes him that sounds like it was ripped out of him. It’s louder, more of a whine, vibrating up his throat.

The last love bite is placed just south of the hinge of Jeongguk’s jaw. Taehyung can feel the quick thump thump thump of his pulse against his tongue. He’s slower this time, a little more gentle. It starts as a kiss, just a gentle caress of his lips over Jeongguk’s skin, and Taehyung could lose himself in this, could keep going for hours or days or possibly weeks.

His left hand slips out of Jeongguk’s hair and joins the right one bracing against his chest. He feels so strong and firm beneath his fingertips, and it takes everything in Taehyung not to let his hands wander any more. 

Bringing a little bit of space between his mouth and Jeongguk’s neck, he allows himself to breathe. As the cool air fans against the bruised skin, Jeongguk shivers, another sigh falling from his lips.

Taehyung lets his eyes flutter open. He feels dazed, like his whole world is spinning, except everything also feels oddly in place. Like everything is right.

And then his gaze falls upon the colourful work of art that is Jeongguk’s throat.

Yeah, he might’ve overdone it like, a little bit.

Oops.

He did well on the bottom most hickey and the one right under Jeongguk’s jaw, those look somewhat appropriate. But it’s blatantly obvious just how carried away he’d gotten with the one in the middle. It’s an angry pinkish red now, and Taehyung feels like he can watch it turn purple.

A strange sense of pride makes his stomach flip.

Jeongguk’s pushing himself back into a more upright position, but he’s not bringing any distance between their bodies. He’s looking at Taehyung out of heavy, hooded eyes, Taehyung can feel it, and his fingers are rubbing up and down where they’re splayed against the small of his back.

“How’s it look?”

Luckily, Taehyung’s still wearing Jeongguk’s hoodie. He’s got goosebumps again, and he’s got them everywhere, it’s like his whole body wants to shake just because of how ruined Jeongguk’s voice sounds.

Staring at his masterpiece, he slowly smooths his hand up Jeongguk’s chest until he can touch his finger to a bruise, carefully skimming over it and internally revelling in the tiny hitch in Jeongguk’s breathing.

He can’t look away. “Like you’re mine.”

Jeongguk’s hands tighten around his waist. “Good.”

Finally, Taehyung tears his eyes away from Jeongguk’s neck. And then suddenly, he’s right there, and they’re holding each other, and Jeongguk’s eyes are definitely focused on his mouth, and Taehyung’s never longed to kiss someone this badly in his entire life.

“This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it.” Jeongguk’s voice is low and gravelly. There’s no way to tell what exactly he means – the hickeys? their close proximity? their fake relationship?

“Probably.”

Taehyung is actually going to die if Jeongguk doesn’t kiss him right this second.

“I should get ready.”

He tries not to visibly deflate. Tries to concentrate on how Jeongguk’s words don't match his actions, how he’s staying perfectly in place in front of him.

“Okay. Do that.”

One hand leaves Taehyung’s waist, and Taehyung almost gives in to his whims and grabs it in order to put it back where he decided it belongs now, but then there’s a gentle touch to the side of his head. Jeongguk pushes a strand of hair away from his face, and he’s being so tender and careful, it makes Taehyung want to scream and cry and thrash around in frustration.

“Wear the shirt?” Jeongguk says. There’s a brief moment in which Taehyung’s brain is reeling to recall what shirt he’s on about, but then he remembers the bright red jersey on the bed next to them. “For good luck?”

Taehyung huffs a laugh. “You need luck?”

In response, he gets a lazy smirk. Jeongguk lightly pinches the back of his neck. “Can’t hurt.”

And then he’s slipping away, slowly, with as much caution as he’d come nearer, and Taehyung wonders if one day, soon, he’s just going to break and yank him closer again.

***

“He looks like you tried to fucking kill him.”

Taehyung ducks his head between his shoulders, guilty. He’s standing opposite Min Yoongi in a bleak corridor beneath the stands in one of Tokyo’s football stadiums, Jeongguk’s red jersey hanging loosely on his body, the hem tucked into his jeans at the front. They’re minutes away from kick off, and the plan had been to find his spot in the VIP section, but then Yoongi had pulled him to the side, a stern look on his face.

“What in the wannabe Edward Cullen were you thinking?” he’s asking now, throwing his hands up. Without the facade of perfect composure Taehyung’s gotten used to whenever he’s sat across from him in the office, Yoongi is nothing but a very tiny, very angry man. No wonder Jimin is so clearly intrigued.

Shrugging, Taehyung tries his best to seem as unbothered as possible. “We thought it’d be good for publicity.”

He’s sure it’s not that bad. Like, it couldn’t possibly have gotten that much worse since he’s last looked at Jeongguk’s throat. And even if it had, he can’t help but think, he’s not exactly opposed to everyone seeing from a distance that there’s absolutely no use in chatting Jeongguk up.

“It would be good for publicity,” Yoongi begrudgingly agrees, but he still sounds exasperated. “If it didn’t look as if you tried strangling him.”

“To be fair,” Taehyung says. “A lot of the time that is precisely what I wanna do.”

For a moment, Yoongi just stares at him mutely. Then he brings his hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, breathing deeply. Taehyung can only guess he’s already writing a letter of complaint addressed to Hoseok and Jimin in his head.

He waits patiently. Thinks about whether or not it’s smart to suggest they put a scarf on Jeongguk. Decides against it. Yoongi looks like he could throw a pretty good right hook.

“If this throws him off his game, I swear–”

“You know it won’t,” Taehyung holds against him immediately. He meets Yoongi’s gaze with certainty, and that seems to do it. They both know Jeongguk well enough at this point to know that nothing could influence the way he performs in a competitive situation.

“Don’t go as hard next time.”

Next time. Taehyung’s heart leaps at the thought. Next time. Next time he gives Jeongguk a hickey. Next time he gets to kiss his neck.

“Sure.”

As some kind of final move of annoyance (that already looks a little too fond, if Taehyung’s eyes aren’t completely deceiving him), Yoongi shakes his head. “Go to your seat now.”

Standing up straight, Taehyung salutes him, internally giggling at the way Yoongi immediately rolls his eyes before he lightly shoves him in the direction leading up to the bleachers.

On his way up a flight of stairs, Taehyung checks his phone. He used his downtime earlier to reply to messages, edit photos, prepare Instagram posts, and grace Twitter with his presence – all while listening to a random football podcast he found on Spotify in an attempt to acquire at least a little bit of knowledge. Notifications are crowding his screen, and he swipes them away in order to open his camera and send a quick, blurry snap of the empty, artificially green field to Jimin.

He recognises the people he’s seated next to from the plane, but they pay him barely any mind. From time to time – as he prepares an Instagram story post for example – he feels them throwing judgemental looks his way.

Not a nice feeling, but whatever. He’s not here to make friends.

After a few more minutes, the players walk out onto the field, and it’s only slightly embarrassing how Taehyung zones out instantly. He really can’t help it. His focus is on Jeongguk, as if his eyes are just naturally drawn to him, and quite frankly, he has no idea what’s going on around him.

Jeongguk’s in all red and black; the jersey matching the one Taehyung’s wearing, the shorts black and perfectly accentuating his thighs, red socks, black shoes. He’s got a zigzag hairband on his head again to keep the loose strands out of his face and it’s simply criminal how handsome he looks with it.

The hickey is obvious. It’s obvious even from all the way up inside the VIP section where Taehyung sits with his nose practically pressed against the glass window in front of him, so he’s pretty sure everyone else in the stadium is also aware of it.

He’s not mad about it. At all. That strange feeling of pride surges through him again.

The game kicks off, and then it’s just ridiculous how fast time flies. The players swarm out across the field, and Taehyung makes sure to always keep an eye on Jeongguk.

It’s not hard to stay focused like that.

He’s never been interested in sports to any particular extent, and watching ninety minutes of football surely has never crossed his mind as a fun pastime activity. Yet here he is, completely invested. In the game, of course. Not in the way the muscles in Jeongguk’s legs move when he runs, or how adorable his pout is when he concentrates.

Taehyung doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t even notice it. What.

Much like the first time he’s watched a Tigers game on tv, he’s impressed by Jeongguk’s speed. Once he starts properly sprinting, no one stands a chance. But the Japanese team seems to have developed a tactic for that. There are a couple of their players near him at all times, making sure he doesn’t get an opportunity to properly gain momentum.

Jeongguk handles it beautifully. Taehyung actually doesn’t understand how he’s managing to wiggle out between the opposing players and still have the ball at his feet right now, but he does, and then he passes to Seoho, and he–

The section of the stadium Taehyung’s seated in erupts in overjoyed chaos. The excitement spills into the VIP section, the cheers so loud he’s actually worried his eardrums might burst. A grin splits his own face as he watches Seoho run at high speed towards a smiling Jeongguk to embrace him in a quick but surely bone-crushing hug.

It carries on like that. Halfway through the game, Taehyung truly understands what Yoongi meant by calling Jeongguk the Tigers' ‘most valuable player.’ Even though he’s not directly responsible for scoring the goals, he’s the one who moves the action forward, who sets up opportunities, who makes decisions in a fraction of a second.

After half time, the Diamonds score a goal, which appears to give them a new sense of hope and motivation, because the speed and flexibility with which they move increases drastically. It’s a hectic back and forth, and Taehyung watches Jeongguk run across the middle of the field so many times, he loses count.

Despite several tense moments for both teams, it stays 1:1 for a long time, all the way to the last remaining five minutes.

Once again, Jeongguk’s got the ball, and he’s sprinting with it, so quick Taehyung has trouble following. The two Diamonds players are hot on his heels, trying to cage him in and snatch the ball from him, but he’s fast enough to shoot it off into Seoho’s direction.

Seoho is faced with a very insistent defending player, and even Taehyung realises there’s no opportunity for him to score.

Jeongguk is a little further back on the field, as is another player whose name Taehyung is currently blanking on and can’t be bothered to check on the back of his jersey, and Seoho’s forced to make a fast decision.

He passes the ball to the unknown player – fine, Taehyung will read his last name. It’s Yun. – who then kicks it halfway across the field to Jeongguk. 

It’s a dangerous move, such a long pass, especially with the two players always in Jeongguk’s immediate proximity, but again, Jeongguk is too quick. He runs for it, owns the ball for not even half a second before racing off in the fastest sprint Taehyung’s ever witnessed.

Taehyung’s long stopped staying seated, and now his hands are pressing against the glass for real, anticipation and tension fuzzy inside of him.

There’s no opportunity to pass the ball back to Seoho, but it doesn’t look as if that’s been Jeongguk’s plan anyways. He’s off on his own, outrunning the other players until he enters the defence zone, and then, at the golden moment, he pulls his foot back – and shoots.

The ball passes the keeper’s hand by mere inches, landing in the top right corner of the goal, shaking the net.

Together with the people in their block, Taehyung cheers and claps his hands. He watches as Jeongguk slows down to a jog, grinning and not nearly heaving for air as much as his run might have suggested. The teammates close to him pat his shoulder or, in Seoho’s case, tackle him quite unceremoniously. At the edge of the field, Taehyung spies an applauding Namjoon and a severely pleased Yoongi.

The game concludes with the shrill blow of a whistle and the howls and screams of the Tigers fans in the stadium. With the energy of a player fresh to premier league football, Jeongguk runs a quick victory lap before he’s buried under the embrace of all of his teammates.

A wave of happiness washes over Taehyung. It feels like he’s vibrating on the spot, swept up in the general buzzing joy in the VIP room around him despite none of the people next to him offering to include him in their own little private celebrations. 

He doesn’t care, nothing can dampen his mood when he gets to look at the overjoyed expression on Jeongguk’s face as he peels himself out of the group hug. There’s a thin sheen of sweat coating the sides of his neck, making the purple love bites gleam.

Under the bright stadium lights, he’s a star. He’s golden.

Taehyung’s stomach somersaults.

As Jeongguk brings one of his hands up to pull the headband off his head and mess up his bangs, his eyes wander over the stands, up and up until he finds the glass box Taehyung’s sitting in. Around him, his teammates are slowly letting go of one another to shake hands with some of the opposing players or return to their coach. Hajin slaps his shoulder in passing, making him stumble forward a couple steps, interrupting his focus.

Bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of his feet, Taehyung tries to catch his gaze. But Jeongguk seems a little lost. There’s probably too much movement going on in the benches, a glare in the glass, too many people wearing similar shirts as Taehyung, a sea of red and black.

Taehyung is long past thinking.

In a flash, he’s pushing past everyone else. If he steps on one or possibly both feet of the person next to him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. The door is right there, and then he’s skipping down the stairs, flashing his VIP pass to the alarmed security guard down in the corridor leading towards the field, and pressing past him as soon as he as much as attempts to step aside.

And then he’s stepping out onto the field, is running, really, dodging some of Jeongguk’s returning teammates and ignoring whatever they’re saying to him. He can’t explain it, it’s like he’s deaf and blind to everything around him that isn’t the sole focal point of his vision – everything that isn’t Jeongguk.

Ahead of Taehyung, Jeongguk is just tearing his eyes away from the bleachers. For a short moment, his expression looks dim. But then, at once, as his eyes fall on Taehyung’s approaching form, his whole face lights up. 

Taehyung freezes. Can’t move for a second. He has to take in the sight before him, the genuine, pure elation bleeding from Jeongguk’s features upon spotting him. It’s in his eyes, round and dark and shiny, and in his grin, so wide it scrunches up his nose, and it’s enough to make that ever-filling vessel of emotion inside Taehyung overflow.

With absolutely no idea what he’s doing, he takes off towards him. 

He’s just so impressed and happy and proud and he likes this guy way too damn much, and now he’s hugging him in a storm, arms crossed tightly behind his neck, and Jeongguk reciprocates it at once, holds him tight, hoists him up by the back of his thighs, and spins them in a few dizzying circles.

“You’re kinda heavy,” is the first thing Jeongguk grunts, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got an actual problem keeping Taehyung off the ground.

“And you reek,” Taehyung comments instantly, burying his face further in the crook of his neck.

The sound of Jeongguk’s giggle is so beautiful to Taehyung’s ears he can’t help but squeeze him tighter once more.

After a few moments, Taehyung feels himself gradually getting lowered to the ground. The soles of his feet touch the grass and Jeongguk’s hands leave the back of his thighs, smooth up the side of his body until they’re resting comfortably on his hips. Being this close to him, with all this joy exuding from him, it feels like Taehyung is basking in a direct ray of sunlight.

“Congrats.” He says it quietly, but he means it. “That was so cool. You’re really good.”

Impossibly, the grin on Jeongguk’s face widens even more. Tiny crinkles form by his eyes, and this is maybe the most beautiful he’s ever looked to Taehyung, bouncy, exuberant, and happy.

Except then the lively expression morphs into something else, an expression that is much more quiet, much more tender, but no less genuine, and somehow that does even worse things to Taehyung’s insides.

“Had my lucky charm with me.”

With a disbelieving scoff, Taehyung extracts his hands from the back of Jeongguk’s neck. “Sure,” he says, lifting his hands and carefully pushing strands of sweat damp black hair off his forehead. “You’re right. Naturally that was all me. You have no talent or skill whatsoever.”

The corner of Jeongguk’s mouth twitches. “Exactly. That means you have to come to every game from now on.”

Dropping his hands to the side of Jeongguk’s face, Taehyung traces his fingers from his temple down to his jaw. “I have a job of my own, you know.”

Not missing a beat, Jeongguk says, “Whatever they pay you, I’ll double it.”

Giddiness bubbles up Taehyung’s chest, and it feels like the butterflies have fluttered from his stomach up into his head. “I can’t be bought.”

“Bummer.”

“Gotta offer me something else.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung feels Jeongguk’s eyes blink down his face. “Like what?”

Taehyung’s heart is in his throat, on his tongue, fluttering wildly like a hummingbird’s wings. His fingers find their way back around Jeongguk’s neck, holding on tightly. He leans in. “K–”

Another sharp blow of a whistle cuts through the air.

At once, Taehyung yanks his hands away and whirls around. The gentle hold Jeongguk has of his hips loosens before it’s reluctantly shaken off entirely.

Namjoon is standing at the sidelines, gesturing expansively at them. The bright red whistle in his hand doesn’t go with the rest of his formal outfit at all, but the hurried expression on his face forbids Taehyung to make fun of it.

He doesn’t feel like laughing anyway.

“I’m being a shit teammate.” Jeongguk hangs his head guiltily. Cute. Adorable. Attractive. Hot. Has Taehyung mentioned this has developed into a problem? Because it definitely has. “Whoops.”

The truth is, Taehyung had kind of forgotten they’re the only ones remaining in the middle of the field inside a huge football stadium, the players all off to the changing rooms, the people in the stands who haven’t gotten up to leave yet witnessing their every move.

Heat creeps into his cheeks.

Whoops, indeed.

***

Post-game routine sucks.

Jeongguk is swept away to give quick statements about the game to a few selected reporters. For precisely five seconds, Taehyung manages to gaslight himself into believing he isn’t already feeling needy just a few minutes after having all of Jeongguk’s attention on him. 

After five and a half seconds, he’s a sulking mess.

Yoongi, muttering an annoyed “Since when is it my job to haul people around?”, ushers him towards a car that’s supposed to take him and the two other significant others of some of Jeongguk’s teammates back to the hotel.

The taxi ride drags on for an eternity. Multiple times, Taehyung tries to find an in into the conversation flowing between the girl and the guy he’s stuck with, but they both communicate exclusively in inside jokes that imply they’ve known each other for years and that he is not welcome. It’s more than obvious that they either know of or have seen the video, and it’s awkward and probably the most out of place Taehyung’s felt in ages.

He doesn’t have to wait for Jeongguk in the hotel lobby, but he wants to. Everything’s better than getting into the same elevator as the other two and endure another excruciating silence.

And when Jeongguk finally does arrive, he’s glad he stuck around. While he looks properly exhausted – he put on a hoodie and drew up the hood, and comfort over fashion is just such a good look on him – there’s still a kind of buoyancy to the way he moves, like victory is making him walk on clouds.

When he spots Taehyung leaning against a wall next to a ridiculously large painting of a hilly landscape waiting for them, he smiles sheepishly. Seoho rolls his eyes and pretends to kick after him as he skips over to Taehyung, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

It still makes Taehyung’s heart race, even though he knows it’s because of all the people around them. It didn’t used to be like this, he used to be so cool and collected, the one who put out, who did the daring moves first – he forgot when they switched roles.

They file into an elevator together with Seoho, Hajin, and two others who are headed to the same floor as them. Taehyung recognises one of them as Yun, the other midfielder, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen the other one play today. 

There’s a quiet buzz of chatter between them, mostly animated by Seoho, who despite his drooping eyes still looks as if he could take on the world. Next to Taehyung, Jeongguk nods along and laughs, and his hand squeezes Taehyung’s from time to time, and it’s fine, it’s okay, how would he know Taehyung is slowly going insane over here?

On the seventh floor, the doors slide open with a bright ding. Hajin pats Jeongguk’s shoulder and fistbumps his other teammates (Taehyung included) as a goodbye before trotting off down the hall towards his room.

Yun rolls his eyes. His voice is loud enough for Hajin to still catch it when he says, “Boring. It’s barely half nine.”

“I’m out, too,” Seoho announces as if on cue, skipping Yun and the other guy in his farewell and reaching straight for Taehyung instead, patting his upper arm. He grins, and then he leans over to the side and ruffles Jeongguk’s hair like an older brother would. “Night.”

“Buzzkills,” Yun huffs as soon as Seoho’s door has fallen shut behind him. His eyes cut right past Taehyung and fall upon Jeongguk. “What about you, Jeon? Doyul and I are gonna get dinner and hit some bars, you in?”

“Nah,” Jeongguk replies with a yawn. “Already got other plans.”

In an instant, the butterflies are back in Taehyung’s stomach, and they are positively rioting.  

Another thing that’s slipped his memory: their plan to watch Titanic.

Their date.

To Yun’s right, Doyul scoffs. He exchanges a quick look with his teammate, and Taehyung wonders what the hell that is about. “Sure you do, now that you finally get some action again, right?”

The butterflies inside Taehyung die. It’s like an angry flame ignites in his stomach and burns them all before he’s even tried to process Doyul’s words. To his surprise, there’s no reaction from Jeongguk apart from a cold, humourless chuckle.

“Look, we get it,” Yun nods, the sarcasm bleeding from every syllable. “Gotta make it worthwhile, who knows how long that kitten will stay in your bed.”

Doyul grins wickedly. “Better take a video or something.”

The fire in Taehyung’s belly is out at once, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over him. It’s the suddenness that’s paralysing, not the words themselves. By now, strangers' comments don’t get to him as much, don’t faze him, especially when it’s about that stupid video. He can stand up for himself.

He just hadn’t expected he’d need to do that here.

Unexpectedly, he’s yanked back by his hand, and it takes him a moment to realise he’s staggering to a halt because Jeongguk has stopped in his tracks. 

“What’d you just say?”

The evenness of his voice, the rigidness of his body, calm breathing, steady hands – everything screams danger to Taehyung. He watches the tiny quirk in Jeongguk’s brows, it’s directed at Doyul, beckoning him to repeat himself.

Doyul laughs.

Eyes widening, Taehyung flexes his hand. He holds Jeongguk back, and then, before anything else can be said, he steps between him and Doyul, rolling his shoulders back and facing Jeongguk’s fellow player with a straight face. 

“You know what, maybe we will,” he says. “And then you can search for it on the porn site of your choice while you sit in your mama’s basement crying about how no one wants to get on your dick.”

Dumbfounded, Doyul blinks at him. Taehyung doesn’t give him the time of day, he’s already turning towards Yun.

“And you. Almost sounds like you want that kitten,” he snorts, “in your bed next. Which can be arranged, no problem. And if it bites you in the ass then I hope it was worth your while.”

Yun has the audacity to lift his hands next to his head, feigning an expression of total innocence. “T’was a joke, mate.”

“Yeah, you’re such a clown,” Taehyung deadpans.

Silence. And then there’s a light tug on Taehyung’s hand, before Jeongguk sneaks his arm around his waist from behind, pulling him a little closer. “Yeah. What Taehyung said.”

Shooting daggers at Yun’s dumb face, Taehyung blindly reaches his newly freed hand up and pats it gently against Jeongguk’s chest. “Thank you, baby.”

When neither Doyul nor Yun make another move, he decides it’s time to cut them off. Their room is only one door further down the hall, and Jeongguk immediately trails after him when he starts moving towards it.

Once the door is shut, the air between them feels thick. Taehyung can feel Jeongguk’s gaze boring into the side of his face. He ignores it. There’s no way he’s going to let his day get ruined by two guys whose frontal lobes have stopped developing at age twelve.

He doesn’t care. Let them think whatever they want to think about him.

“Do you want to shower first?” he breaks the quiet, his tone pointedly casual. He nods in the direction of the bathroom.

For a couple seconds, Jeongguk just stares at him mutely. And then he seems to catch himself. “Um. Yeah. Sure. I’ll do that. Do you want to order food in the meantime?”

“Oh, good idea.” Taehyung snaps his fingers at him as he toes off his shoes, and the sharp sound of it seems to cause Jeongguk to rip his eyes away from where they had been following the name on the back of Taehyung’s shirt. “Any special wishes?”

“Nope.” After precisely half a beat of hesitation, Jeongguk grins. “Cheat day starts immediately after a game.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung feels fondness warming his chest. “God, you’re such a dude.”

“Thank you.”

“Trust me, that was not a compliment.”

Jeongguk pouts.

“Go shower, you giant stinking baby,” Taehyung laughs, practically shoving him into the bathroom. Now that Jeongguk’s mentioned it, he feels like he could eat a horse. “If you’re lucky I’ll even get you dessert.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Fucking go.”

***

Taehyung goes a little crazy on the delivery app.

In his defence, he doesn’t know what Jeongguk’s go-to pizza order is, how he likes his meat, or if he prefers soba or udon noodles. So, naturally, he ends up ordering a bit of everything, internally giggling at the thought of Jeongguk having to go downstairs to collect their pizza plus all the twelve different dips offered on the website once it arrives.

He opens the glass door leading out to the balcony and watches the curtains waft lazily in the nightly breeze, and then he lets himself fall onto his back on his side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Time to assess the damage.

It feels like he’s been over this a thousand times, but right now feels crucial. Even though neither he nor Jeongguk brought it up again after that, they did agree to have a date. They’ve done a truly horrifying amount of flirting practically every time they’ve interacted over the past week. He literally had his mouth on Jeongguk’s skin today.

And the thing is, all of this is fine. It’s nothing special, really, Taehyung’s been into people before.

What is special is the way his stomach feels like it’s dissolving in prickling acid every time Jeongguk laughs. Or this new possessive streak he’s been getting acquainted with today. Or the comfortable warmth spreading through him from head to toe. How much he suddenly likes to hold hands. To talk on the phone for hours. To truly get to know someone.

What is special is that Taehyung wants more than a one time hook up.

And that’s terrifying.

And what makes it worse is that he doesn’t want it to stop.

He’s not the relationship kind of guy. He’s just not. Eunchan hit the nail on the head a couple days ago: people don’t ever want him like that. He’s not made for something serious.

Not good enough.

The noise of the bathroom door cracking open puts a sudden end to his spiralling thoughts. Jeongguk shuffles around the corner into the bedroom, dropping his bundle of dirty clothes into his duffle bag. His hair is freshly blow-dried and parted down the middle, his bangs falling into his face in a truly devastating way. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey basketball shorts and an oversized white shirt with big, floppy sleeves that reach all the way down to his elbows.

“Food should be here in five,” Taehyung tells him, rolling onto his side. His eyes feel heavy, and he’s not sure whether that’s because he’s tired or because Jeongguk somehow manages to look hot even in the cosiest of outfits.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says, scratching his neck and flinching ever so slightly when his fingers skims over one of the hickeys Taehyung left there. “Uh, do you… I mean, I’m done in the bathroom, so if you–”

Taehyung interrupts him with a quiet whine, but he pushes up from the mattress anyway. Quickly, before the sudden burst of motivation wears off, he fetches comfortable clothes out of his suitcase and heads for the shower.

On the counter by the sink, Jeongguk left his wash bag along with a t-shirt and a hoodie, both folded rather carelessly, as if he’d put them on and immediately decided against them. A small vial of perfume and an electric toothbrush are lined up next to the sink.

Taehyung places his things on the other side of the counter before giving himself a long, hard stare in the mirror.

He knows how to look good. Which muscles to work what way, how to angle his face, to smile, not to smile, and everything in between. But looking at himself with relaxed features, a quiet but content exhaustion in his eyes, he can’t help but pick out everything that’s lacking.

Shaking his head, he turns away. He’s not going to let that stupid voice of doubt ruin the first date he’s looked forward to in years.

Usually, he doesn’t waste much time showering, but this shower is freaking nice, and once he’s standing underneath the spray of hot water raining onto him from above, it’s hard to get back out. He mindlessly cycles through his well-practised nighttime routine, eventually stepping back into the hotel room, his face shiny with moisturiser.

While he’s been gone, Jeongguk transformed the whole thing. The food has arrived, and he’s spread the different cartons out all across the bed, with his laptop set up at the foot of it, the beginning of the movie paused on screen. The blanket and duvet cover are piled against the headboard to have something soft to lean against, and the whole room is lit up in blueish, purple light.

“Oh my God, you seriously brought the mood lamp?” Taehyung asks, padding closer to the bed.

“Obviously,” Jeongguk says, crawling onto the mattress and crossing his legs underneath him. “Not a movie night without it.”

Taehyung stays rooted to the spot. Nerves are getting to him now, tickling the inside of his skin – a neat little side effect of this whole having a crush thing. “You didn’t have to… We could’ve just eaten on the sofa and watched the movie on the tv, you know.”

“Laptop’s cosier,” Jeongguk tells him matter-of-factly. “Are you getting in here or not? I can eat all your food today, and I’m warning you, I will.”

Strangely, that’s all Taehyung needs. He hops onto the mattress, giggling when Jeongguk tuts at him for very nearly throwing over a cardboard box filled with kimbap.

“Ready.”

“Sure.” Taehyung breaks a pair of chopsticks apart. Throwing a sceptical look at the laptop screen, he adds, “Just out of curiosity, if I hate this…”

“You’ll sleep on the balcony.”

“That’s what I thought. I love it already.”

Jeongguk pokes him in the ribs.

They eat while watching the beginning of the movie in relative silence. And then a younger Leonardo DiCaprio comes on screen, and Taehyung can’t help but snort into his pizza slice.

Leaning forward, Jeongguk hits pause on a rather convenient shot of the actor’s face. “What?”

Taehyung forces himself to chew and swallow, but the laughter is pressing against the back of his teeth. “I see.”

“What?”

“You’re watching the movie for the plot, hm.”

The low light doesn’t do much to disguise the caught expression flitting over Jeongguk’s face. It’s kind of hilarious.

“Mhm,” Taehyung hums, gesturing at the screen. “Good plot. Nice plot. Not sure it’ll age well, but hey–”

“Can we just watch the movie?”

“Are you whining? You’re whipped. You’re so lucky you’re still twenty-four, you know, because–”

Jeongguk pokes him in the ribs again.

They watch Jack and Rose’s romance unfurl on screen. It’s a beautifully shot movie, Taehyung notices, and in a weird way, he really appreciates how slowly it moves at first. It takes almost an hour for the two main characters to properly meet for the first time, and by that point, they’ve made their way through most of the food. 

Jeongguk, eyes fixated on his laptop, stacks the empty cardboard boxes and deposits them to the floor next to his side of the bed. The leftover kimbap and pizza slices get placed on his nightstand. With a yawn, he leans back into the blanket pile behind him.

Sitting pretty much in the middle of the mattress, Taehyung feels a little bit like he’s put on display, so he tentatively scoots back until he’s sitting next to Jeongguk. Their legs are stretched out, their ankles almost touching.

In the movie, the first kiss happens, and Taehyung is so invested, he doesn’t even notice Jeongguk shifting next to him until there’s suddenly a hand on his thigh. Holding his breath, he forces himself to stay focused on what is going on on screen, but the way Jeongguk’s drawing little patterns close to his knee is extremely distracting.

It’s hard to keep paying attention, but the romance between the two leads develops, and then there’s this scene of them in the back of an old car aboard the ship, and things get surprisingly steamy all of a sudden, and then Jeongguk’s hand on his thigh flexes at once, pulls, hitching Taehyung’s leg over his.

Fuck Rose and Jack. Taehyung tears his eyes away, drops them to his lap, and watches Jeongguk’s hand smooth slowly up and down the inside of his thigh. His insides do not exist anymore, or they do, but they’re one big, jumbled up mess. Blinking, he’s hesitant to lift his gaze, afraid of what he’ll do when he finds Jeongguk already looking at him.

But he doesn’t. Jeongguk’s facing forward, eyes eagerly following every move on screen and mouth slightly agape in interest, all while his hand is wandering absentmindedly. Taehyung would be disappointed if he wasn’t both so terrified of his own desires and so enamoured by the man next to him.

When things start to go south in the movie, they rearrange themselves on the mattress and get under the covers. The laptop is placed on a pillow between their bodies, the other is for them to rest their heads on.

Tragedy unfolds, but Taehyung doesn’t have it in himself to care too much. They’re both looking at the laptop, but their heads are close, and he feels Jeongguk’s face shifting from time to time, looking at him.

When the ship sinks, they aren’t watching.

Taehyung rubs his cheek against the velvety pillow before chancing a glance at Jeongguk. He’s already there to meet him, this time. Heavy eyes pull him in immediately. There’s something so delicate about his features in low light, all his sharpness rendered soft and round.

“You’re not paying attention,” Jeongguk chides quietly.

“Neither are you.” Taehyung has no idea why he’s whispering. Maybe he’s scared any kind of loud noise will accidentally yank them out of the tenderness of the moment.

“Already know the end.”

So does Taehyung – at least kind of. So far, the main characters are still alive, but the way everyone’s bolting for the lifeboats gives him a general idea of how exactly the story is going to end. 

He brings his hand up between their bodies and playfully flicks Jeongguk’s chin. Jeongguk reacts immediately, trapping his hand between the underside of his jaw and his throat, effectively bringing them even closer together.

“You didn’t have to ditch the others, by the way.” Taehyung successfully frees his hand, but leaves it by the side of Jeongguk’s face. Something inside him years to touch every inch of him, it’s almost unbearable. “If you wanted to go out tonight to celebrate your win, we could’ve just watched the movie some other time.”

The corners of Jeongguk’s mouth dip down for a second, a tiny wrinkle appearing between his brows. He shakes his head, some strands of his hair fanning out over the pillow in the process. “Not that much of a fan of going out. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m much more of a homebody.”

Taehyung smiles. “I like going out.”

“Oh, did you wanna go to a bar?”

“No, no.” He lightly pinches Jeongguk’s earlobe. “I’m happy here.”

Jeongguk rolls properly onto his side, adjusting his face on the pillow. He looks so sleepy and cosy and comfortably warm, all Taehyung wants is to inch closer and curl up against his chest. But as he spots the underlying trace of worry in his eyes, he tilts his head a little further into the pillow, sending him a questioning look.

“Just.” Jeongguk clasps his mouth shut for so long, Taehyung’s not sure he’ll ever finish speaking. “I’m sorry. For what Doyul and Jinu said out there.”

It’s such a sudden change of topic and mood, it takes a moment for Taehyung to find his footing in the conversation. He’d shoved what Jeongguk’s teammates said out in the hallway so far to the back of his mind already, he has trouble understanding Jinu and Yun are the same person.

“Oh.” He shrugs, hoping it comes across as lighthearted even in the mere darkness. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like that’s the first time someone made a comment like that. Believe me, I’m used to it.”

“They’re assholes.”

Taehyung smiles weakly. “Didn’t say anything against that.”

Jeongguk’s hand finds its way around his waist under the covers. It’s a little breathtaking every time, just how well it fits there. As if it should never be anywhere else.

Carefully, Taehyung touches the tips of his fingers to the skin of Jeongguk’s cheek. A butterfly’s embrace, barely there, but Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut immediately anyway. He looks so peaceful, so vulnerable like this, Taehyung can’t help but feel stunned by it.

“Can I ask you something?”

A low, agreeing hum sounds from Jeongguk. His face is so close to Taehyung’s, there’s maybe a millimetre of distance left before their foreheads are touching.

“The video,” Taehyung says quietly. An unpleasant heat creeps up his neck, but he can’t stop himself from asking, “Have you seen it?”

The colourful aurora borealis dancing over the ceiling of their room makes it impossible to tell if he’s imagining the dusting of pink on Jeongguk’s cheeks or not. Taehyung waits patiently, caressing his fingers up to his temple. He’s not sure which answer he’d rather hear; if it matters at all; what that means.

Finally, Jeongguk shakes his head. Taehyung wouldn’t have been able to tell, hadn’t he felt the movement against his fingertips. “No. I haven’t.”

The relief immediately rushing through his veins is enough of an indicator – this is what he’d subconsciously hoped to hear. But then – what is that immediate sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach? The initial alleviation wears off in a matter of moments, but this, this heavy, bitter thing, it stays.

“Oh.”

Isn’t it natural for people to be curious? Taehyung’s certainly been curious about all of the skeletons in Jeongguk’s closet. Maybe Jeongguk hasn’t seen the video because he’s not interested. Maybe Taehyung’s been misreading all the signs. Maybe–

Jeongguk’s thumb rubs little circles into the curve of his waist. “Didn’t think it’d be fair.”

Stilling his hand where it’s smoothing along Jeongguk’s cheekbone, Taehyung blinks.

With his eyes shut, Jeongguk wiggles his head a little until Taehyung moves his fingers again. “Your intention obviously wasn’t for it to end up online, right? And now you have no control over who watches it. Must feel like shit.”

Taehyung stares at him, speechless for the first time in a long time. Leave it to Jeongguk to surprise him, catch him off guard again and again.

“Sometimes it does,” he admits after a minute of silence.

“Also,” Jeongguk says. The pronouncedly serious tone of his voice doesn’t match the twitch of the corner of his mouth. “I don’t like spoilers.”

At once, Taehyung’s heart surges into his throat. He almost chokes on it.

Jeongguk has the audacity to smirk lazily. But then, just as Taehyung is about to pull his slightly trembling hand away from his face, he suddenly full on glowers. “Hey, don’t stop.”

A breathless idea of a laugh escapes Taehyung. He brushes Jeongguk’s hair away from his forehead, watches as his face relaxes again. Carefully, he inches closer, just a little bit, just momentarily, and brushes their noses together.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “For not watching it.”

On screen somewhere down the mattress, Rose is saying Jack’s name, repeatedly, with ever growing desperation. Taehyung doesn’t care. Jeongguk’s wrapping his arm properly around his waist now, and that’s all he can concentrate on.

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

Grinning fondly, Taehyung shakes his head. It seems like Jeongguk’s barely hanging on to consciousness, and somehow, he can’t think of anything he’d rather do than have him fall asleep in his arms.

Slowly, he traces each of Jeongguk’s eyebrows and smooths his fingertips down his nose.

Jeongguk nuzzles his face into his touch. “Feels good.”

Taehyung outlines his cupid’s bow.

“Night, Taehyung.”

Before he can overthink it, before he can get too caught up in that swirling spiral of doubt and fear and uncertainty, Taehyung lifts his head off the pillow ever so slightly, bringing their faces even closer.

He kisses Jeongguk’s cheek. Slowly. Carefully. Lips lingering.

“Good night, Jeongguk.”

Chapter Text

Overnight, Taehyung has the strangest dream: He agrees to enter a pretend relationship with the person that annoyed him most back in high school, and then he finds himself in bed with him, but not in the way he would’ve expected from himself, no, they’re watching a movie, except they’re not, they’re definitely not, and then then they’re touching softly, and Taehyung’s heart is a jackhammer in his chest, and they’re falling asleep sharing a pillow, foreheads touching gingerly.

It’s a scary dream, scary with dangerous imagery, and it’s only made worse by how real the butterflies in his stomach feel. They’re wild, unhinged creatures, and they’re noisy, loud, shrill, screaming at him.

Taehyung’s eyes fly open.

He can still hear the butterflies.

“Turn it off!”

Blinking hecticly, he needs a moment to find his footing in reality, and then two, three more to truly understand what’s going on. He’s in bed, half on his side, half on his stomach. Something warm is pressing against the bare skin of the small of his back beneath his shirt. His legs are trapped. His nose is buried in the best smelling pillow in the entire world.

Said pillow is vibrating angrily, producing whiny, grumbling sounds.

Oh.

Taehyung yanks his head back.

Oh shit.

This is his current situation: Jeongguk is in bed with him, next to him, underneath him. Taehyung’s slept with his head on his chest, face hidden right where yesterday’s love bites bring colour to his skin. Their bodies are tangled up, and Taehyung’s sleepy brain seriously doesn’t understand which limb belongs to him and which doesn’t.

When he turns his head, he finds the vast expanse of the left side of the bed empty.

Blood rushes into his cheeks. Which is good, because that means it can’t go anywhere else, because that’s not a thing he needs happening on top of cuddling with his childhood enemy turned fake boyfriend turned crush right now.

Jeongguk’s laptop is lying closed on Taehyung’s side of the mattress together with his abandoned pillow. He doesn’t remember saving it from the foot of the bed at any time during the night, but he sure is glad he didn’t accidentally kick it off the edge.

Another guttural noise of complaint sounds from Jeongguk. “Taehyung, please.”

And then, only then, with his mind reeling from the cranky plea in Jeongguk’s voice, does Taehyung realise the shrill sound he’d previously misthought to be originating from the obnoxious amount of butterflies in his tummy is in fact blaring from his phone.

Quickly, he reaches over and flips the little switch at the side of the device, cutting off the noise.

It doesn’t take even a second for Jeongguk to sigh deeply, flexing his hand against the bare skin of Taehyung’s waist.

With sleep-heavy but ever widening eyes, Taehyung stares at the screen of his phone, still lit up from the call. It feels like multiple shocks to his system, seeing Eunchan’s name written across the screen in bold white letters, glaring at him demandingly. The layers of peaceful daze are peeling back one by one, fast, and before he knows any better he’s fully conscious, trying to swing his legs out the bed and get to a solitary place as quickly as possible.

Apparently, Jeongguk doesn’t agree with this plan of his. Before Taehyung can slip away, his hand curls into the fabric of his t-shirt, at once holding and then, with much more strength than anyone should possess when still two-thirds asleep, yanking him back.

With a tiny yelp, Taehyung drops his phone between the sheets on his side of the bed. For a moment, his clumsy hands scramble for it, chasing the faint buzzing that’s growing almost inaudible, but Jeongguk’s too quick at pulling him over the mattress and right into his arms.

It’s seamless, the way he folds his body properly around Taehyung, like they’re two puzzle pieces clicking into place. He hitches his left leg up and throws it over Taehyung’s, and then his fingers are toying with the hem of his t-shirt, it tickles a bit, and then – Taehyung swears all his senses collapse at once. 

For a fraction of a second, it’s like his body is jostled through an intense reboot, and then it’s all back all of a sudden, and he feels the wideness of Jeongguk’s palm smooth over his lower belly, up his side, until it’s flat against the feverish skin of his chest.

There’s not an inch between them. Jeongguk is a solid, heavy presence right behind him, around him, pressing against him. His thumb is stroking lazily up and down between Taehyung’s pectorals, and he’s nosing along the side of Taehyung’s neck before hiding his face between his shoulder blades with a little content huff.

Taehyung doesn’t dare to breathe.

Usually, he’s not one for cuddling. With his friends, yes; casual, lingering touches, hugs, hanging off of one another’s shoulders, he loves those. It’s a natural thing, a friendly give and take, no expectation and sometimes no intention other than comfort. 

But this.

This is different. He’s barely awake, and he’s in bed with Jeongguk with the guy’s hand up his shirt, and the line between fake boyfriend and real temptation is getting blurrier with each passing day, and Taehyung just doesn’t do this.

He’s long figured out how to put himself in an advantageous position, how to take the things he needs and dip with no apology on his lips. That’s his thing, that’s how he handles most of his social encounters, it’s how he manages to keep his own insecurities down to a whisper. 

Don’t crave it and it won’t hurt when it gets inevitably taken away.

He craves this. It feels too good. Every single one of Jeongguk’s caresses, the swipe of his thumb over Taehyung’s skin that Taehyung’s long accepted must come as second nature to him, touch for touching’s sake – he yearns for it. It’s so strong, this longing, it’s almost palpable, a tangible force surging into him and urging, begging him to move.

To make sure it doesn’t stop.

Between the sheets, his phone is still merrily buzzing away. Pursing his lips, he darts a hand out and reaches for it, not sparing Eunchan’s name a second glance before denying the call.

Nothing can get him out of this bed as long as Jeongguk is holding him safe like this.

Except then, just as he’s about to let go of his phone, the screen lights up with another name. One he hasn’t seen on there in months, and it’s been even longer since it hasn’t been him who initiated for it to appear there.

Eomma

Jeongguk grumbles when Taehyung wiggles out of his hold, but he doesn’t try to pull him back again. Or he does, but Taehyung’s slipped away too quickly, leaving his fingers grasping at nothing but air. A petulant sigh, and then his limp hand drops to the mattress with a thump before he’s rolling onto his stomach, pushing his head underneath his pillow.

He’s so adorable, hiding like that, it’s causing Taehyung actual physical discomfort not to immediately crawl into bed again and press a tender kiss to that one protruding bump of his spine at the back of his neck.

For just a moment, he stands there, rooted to the spot, his phone vibrating aggressively, and he can’t get himself to leave. He’s never ached for closeness this much, it feels like a gentle force tugging at a spot behind his ribcage, desperate, unrelenting.

Jeongguk starts snoring lightly, the sound muffled by the pillow over his head.

It takes an impossible amount of willpower, but Taehyung finally tears himself away from the situation. On quick feet, he pads in the direction of the bathroom and spins inside. The door gets locked, slowly, careful not to emit a noise.

And then he just stands there, barefoot, his hair a right mess from sleep, his t-shirt crumpled and creased from the way Jeongguk’s hand had been subconsciously pulling on it, and stares at the caller ID on his phone.

With a brief nervous cramp of his stomach, he accepts the call.

“Hello? Eomma?” It’s absurd how eager he sounds. Like he’s fourteen again, bouncy on his chair at the dinner table despite sprinting from school to his singing lessons to his student job at the town’s cinema during the day, dying to show off his first pay check, the callback for a casting, his class presidency.

On good days, he’d been met with dismissive smiles, and on the bad ones, there’d been arguments. He’s been fighting for his dream and tirelessly working on it for half his life, and still the hardest thing to do is stand up for himself in front of his parents.

Even now.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His mother sounds pleasantly cheerful, the showpiece of a content wife, a happy mother of three, despite the fact that she hasn’t cared to speak to her oldest in over a month. “How are you?”

“Good,” Taehyung says before he can think about an honest answer. He catches sight of himself in the mirror, the hurried expression on his face enough of an indicator as to how on edge he already feels. “Good. What about you? Is everything alright?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” his mother hums lightheartedly. Taehyung can picture her waving a hand in polite dismissal. “You know, not too much going on, as always. I thought I’d check in on you. We saw you on tv yesterday!”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s heart skips an excited beat; he doesn’t know how this hasn’t occurred to him until now. His campaign with Levi’s is global, it’s plastered all over the city he lives in, it’s televised. It shouldn’t come as a surprise his mother has seen it.

It doesn’t, he realises. The fact that she’s seen it doesn’t surprise him – that she’s reached out to talk about it, however, does.

Nervously, he runs a hand through his hair. Drags it down his face. Smells his breath catch and reverberate on his palm. Wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I actually–”

A loud rattle in the background of the call interrupts him. His mother must be stacking dishes in the sink. She speaks as if she hasn’t heard him, “I just don’t know if it’s smart, you know?”

Taehyung frowns, confused. Dropping his hand next to his body, he walks a couple steps backwards, slowly sinking down on the closed lid of the toilet. “What do you mean?”

His mother sighs. The sound alone brings back a thousand memories. Discussions about school, about career opportunities, grades, singing lessons, social media, about moving to a bigger city all by himself at the very verge of adulthood. The definite lack of empathy, understanding, and appreciation – all summed up in one noise so simple. It makes the hair at the back of his neck stand up in alarm.

“Look, after what happened a few weeks ago…” She trails off. Those words alone are enough to give Taehyung a general idea of what she’s hinting at. Whatever he’s achieved over the years, his parents have never bothered to mention it, but of course, as soon as his career staggers sideways even the tiniest bit, as soon as there’s something to critique negatively, it’s the first thing they jump on, the first thing they care enough to remember.

There’s a pause, pregnant with the implication of her words. It’s clear the topic is making her uncomfortable, but already, Taehyung feels bitterness creep up his throat. It's such a strange juxtaposition, knowing he's done nothing wrong yet wanting to justify himself.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to parade around a new relationship?”

Despite her not being able to see him, Taehyung pulls a sudden face. He’s got no clue what his mother is on about right now; what does Jeongguk have to do with his Levi’s ad? “I don’t understand.”

“With someone in the public eye as well…” She clicks her tongue. “I get that you’re meeting a lot of influential people, sweetie, but throwing yourself at them… It does come across as a bit desperate and silly, doesn’t it?”

With all due respect, Taehyung has not a clue as to what the hell is going on.

“I’m just worried,” his mother goes on quickly, as if she senses she might’ve stepped on his toes a little bit. “You running on the field after he’s just finished playing a game… it might give off the wrong impression to people.”

With his face twisted in bewilderment, Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, frantically trying to make sense of what it is she’s trying to tell him.

And then suddenly, finally, it dawns on him.

His mother isn’t talking about his campaign with Levi’s. Of course she isn’t. She likely has no idea that’s even a thing that’s happening. She’s talking about him and Jeongguk, about their relationship, about yesterday’s freaking hug.

The very hug Taehyung hadn’t even intended to happen. It had just come over him, overwhelmed him, and now that he’s reminded of it, his head is still spinning from it, his heart thumping, his stomach fluttering. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to hang up the phone and sneak back into bed, hide in the tight embrace of those arms that he trusts to shield him from his mother, from the whole world, and maybe even from himself.

“That’s been on tv?” His voice sounds strangely small. He pulls a foot on up on the toilet lid with him and leans the side of his head against his propped up knee.

He hadn’t been aware the cameras hadn’t been cut yet. It hadn’t been a thing on his mind at the time, the need to get to Jeongguk, to match his level of excitement, to savour every bit of sweet, sweet happiness exuding from him had overtaken him.

And now it feels weird. Odd. Like a little vulnerable piece of privacy has been taken right out of the open palm of his hand and placed in the middle of an ubiquitous table for anyone to see and judge and rate.

“Yeah, sweetie, it has.” Now, there’s sympathy in his mother’s voice. “It’s all happening terribly fast, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s – I’m sorry, what’s his name again? I can never keep up with those things.”

“Jeongguk.” Taehyung doesn’t sound like himself when he answers. It doesn’t surprise him when she doesn’t notice.

“Right.” He can picture her nodding. “I’m sure Jeongguk’s a nice guy, but I don’t know that a public relationship is what you need right now. I’m just concerned, you see, sweetheart. Barging in on someone else’s spotlight like this, I don’t want people to call you…”

Closing his eyes, Taehyung swallows thickly. “Call me what?”

How’d Eunchan put it? Ah, yes. Pathetic, dirty little slut.

Apparently he’s not the only one thinking of him in that way.

“I just want to protect you,” his mother argues quickly. “Maybe it’s time you realise our family simply isn’t one for the centre of attention. We’re just not made for it, all of us. It’s not too late to come back home and pursue a normal career, it–”

“I don’t want that, eomma.”

This time, the sigh sounds ripped out of her lungs. Taehyung doesn’t have to see her to know she’s dropped her kitchen towel to the counter and spun around, leaning her back against it and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Taehyung.”

Blinking hectically, Taehyung rubs his nose against the material of his sweatpants. This part of the conversation has happened countless times before. He clears his throat. “Do you think of me that way? Would you call me a–”

“No.”

“Would appa?”

Quiet falls upon the line. Discomfort follows suit, and it’s so quick to seep deeply into Taehyung’s bones, he immediately regrets asking. There’s bliss to ignorance, it’s how he’s handled the past decade, give or take. Why does he have to push it?

“Appa just wants the best for you, Taehyung.”

He scoffs. It sounds wet, like a defiant child approaching a temper tantrum. “Maybe he can tell me that himself for a change.”

“He has work.” The composure and methodology in his mother’s voice is infuriating. He knows she’s doing it on purpose, rationalising his feelings in regards to a bigger picture. It’s always been like this. His emotional responses have always been disregarded, have always been viewed as too passionate, too much. Don’t say that, Taehyung. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Taehyung. Don’t be so dramatic, don’t be so loud, don’t, don’t, don’t.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, and he can’t help but add, “I have work, too.”

“I’m sure you do.” Her voice is a little more conciliatory, like she’s more than aware she’s just skirted along a razor-sharp edge, but it does nothing to mask the belittling amusement clinging to her words. “And yet I catch you on the phone on a Wednesday at nine in the morning.”

And then it’s truly like the past eight years have never happened. Maybe some things never change, and on the inside, Taehyung will never be anything but a sixteen year old kid, kicking and screaming for attention and recognition.

He hates how much it matters to him. How much he wants his parents to know he’s doing well. How much he wants them to be proud. How much he craves for them to tell him. Is it really too much to ask?

It’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing and silly and a little dumb. 

And he can’t stop it.

“I actually have a pretty big ad out,” he says, dropping his foot back to the floor and wrapping his free arm around his middle. “I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s with Levi’s. And they want me to be the face of their fall campaign. Just me, I mean. And I have a shoot with this renowned photographer coming up later this week, you probably haven’t heard of him, but he’s pretty famous with–”

“That’s wonderful news, honey,” his mother interrupts him gently. It silences him immediately, although he’s not stupid enough to wait for praise. “But is that enough to make a living? It must be tiring, doing all these jobs all the time. I’d love for you to be a little more comfortable in life.”

“Eomma, I have a two bedroom flat in Seoul that I pay for myself,” he tells her, tone insistent. “I’m closely associated with a well-known brand, photographers want to take my picture, I’m on tv, I–”

“And you’re sure that’s not your new boyfriend’s doing?”

Now that one really stings. For all Taehyung knows, until yesterday night, she hadn’t even known Jeongguk to be a part of Taehyung’s life in any shape or form, and yet here she is, automatically assuming he’s more responsible for Taehyung’s well-doing than he himself.

“It just seems so unreliable, Taehyung,” she says, and the worst thing is that she really does sound genuinely worried. “I understand that this means a lot to you, sweetie, I just wish it’d be more of a… well, a hobby, maybe. It’s not worth putting your blood, sweat, and tears into, is it?”

“It is.”

“I’m thankful every day your siblings aren’t as stubborn as you are, you know that?”

Tears spring to his eyes immediately. At this point ‘unfair’ doesn’t even begin to cut it. Why is it that he has to break both his legs, twist and bend over backwards, but the only thing his brother and sister have to do to earn a “well done” is to not have a dream?

“I’ll prove it to you.”

An unconvinced hum echoes through the line. “The way you choose to live your life is your own decision, Taehyung. If you feel like what you’re doing has to be done, then so be it. I find it hard to understand your reasoning enough to agree or support it, but that doesn’t mean you need to prove yourself.”

“But I will.”

The truth is, Taehyung has a thousand reasons. I don’t want to be insignificant. I can do this. I’m good at this. It feels like it’s in my bones.

I want this.

Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t he be enough?

“Alright, sweetheart.” His mother must understand she’s fighting a losing battle. Except Taehyung doesn’t exactly feel like he’s winning, either. Quickly, he wipes at his eyes, trying his hardest not to sniffle. “It was good to hear from you, but I have to get going now. The chores don’t do themselves, you know.”

“Right.”

“And like you said,” she chuckles good-naturedly. It makes Taehyung’s chest feel hollow. “You’ve got work, too.”

“I do.” It feels like his brain is slowly drifting off to a far away place. His hand starts fumbling with the hem of his shirt, worrying an already loose thread looser and looser.

“It would be lovely if you came to visit soon. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. I will.” He won’t. “Tell appa I said hello.”

“I will.” She won’t. “Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye, eomma.”

A childish sense of hope makes him cling to the connection for a couple seconds longer, listening intently until he hears the familiar click in the line. With his right hand still cradling the phone to his ear, he forces himself to take a deep breath – just one, only one, that’s all he needs – and then he lowers the device into his lap, staring straight ahead at the closed door leading back to the hotel room.

He’s fine. He’s not going to cry about something he should’ve seen coming.

It’s been some time since he’s felt so alone. The shell of his body feels ten sizes too big, and no matter how much he squirms and kicks and thrashes about, it’s not enough to make a change.

An incessant buzz of his phone against his palm is enough to shock him back into action.

Eunchan
20 million by the end of the month

At this point, his life feels like some sick joke.

With a groan of annoyance dying in his throat, he pushes up from the toilet seat and dumps his phone on the counter next to the sink. His reflection looks like he’s aged five incredibly stressful years in the past few minutes alone.

The tap is blaring in the quiet of the room. Bending down, he splashes one, two handfuls of icy water in his face, hoping it’ll melt down the puffiness of his cheeks and eyes. 

As he cycles through his morning routine of brushing his teeth, flossing (he’s a good boy, his dentist loves him), and skin care, he does a little bit of mental gymnastics, pushing around numbers, adding, subtracting, estimating. He’s got savings, plus he’s getting paid, and what is due from the Levi’s shoot is quite the amount as well. Twenty million isn’t something to immediately stress out over, but he does it anyway. It feels like Eunchan has a permanent hand around his throat, and he’s just decided to give his neck a little squeeze.

Pathetic, dirty little–

On the counter, his phone lights up again.

Jiminie
i need to see you asap

Taehyung
ive been out of the country for barely 24 hours youre so clingy

Jiminie
fine i won’t tell you the news about the CELINE casting then

What.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. He places a hand next to the sink for support.

Taehyung
park jimin babe love and light of my life i miss you like id miss a lung

Jiminie
and they say romance is dead

Taehyung
TELL ME THE NEWS

Jiminie
HOW ABOUT YOU COME TO WORK AND THEN I WILL

Taehyung
ok can i fly back home first tho

Jiminie
if you must 🙄

Taehyung
im sorry i haven’t figured out the whole teleportation thing

Jiminie
yet.

Taehyung
your optimism astounds me

Taehyung
well land around 3 i think

Jiminie
bring coffee
your treat

Taehyung
ill think about it
the news better be good

Jiminie
🤐

Jiminie
also maybe be careful when you go online

Frowning, Taehyung turns around, leaning his tailbone against the counter.

Taehyung
wait why

Instead of replying verbally, Jimin sends him a cropped screenshot of an Instagram account. The number of followers is ridiculous.

And then Taehyung reads the username, and the cogwheels in his head stutter to a surprised, screeching stop.

Taehyung
what am i looking at

Jiminie
congrats babe you’re famous
people think you’re
no wait actually let me send it to you bc it made me giggle

It’s another screenshot, this time of a tweet from a random user. It says, idec about football but this jeon guy is so hot and somehow his boyfriend is even hotter i sincerely hope they smooch and make beautiful model jock babies

Taehyung
crying

Jiminie
ok but did you

Taehyung
did i what

Jiminie
smooch and make beautiful model jock babies

Jiminie
why are you not replying
i see u lurking

Jiminie
KIM TAEHYUNG DID YOU SMOOCH AND MAKE BEAUTIFUL MODEL JOCK BABIES

Taehyung
ok CALM DOWN
i did not make beautiful model jock babies

Jiminie
🤨

Taehyung
i may have smooched

Jiminie
hoe

[Taehyung disliked “hoe”]

Taehyung
only his cheek though

Jiminie
ok fair he does have kissable cheeks

Taehyung
excuse me?
STOP LOOKING AT HIM??

[Jiminie laughed at “STOP LOOKING AT HIM??”]

Taehyung
i–
.
ok fine you know who else has kissable cheeks
min yoongi

Jiminie
taehyung.

Taehyung
sigh he scolded me yesterday hes so hot with
his color coordinated time schedules
woof woof bark jimin what do i do

Jiminie
cancelling the CELINE thing as we speak

Taehyung
JIMIN NO IM SORRY I LOVE YOU HES YOURS
ILL GET YOU HIS NUMBER IDC

Jiminie
you’re predictable
also wdym 
i already have his number

Taehyung
so are you texting 👀

Jiminie
ofc not

Taehyung
why not
that guy got pressed over a couple hickies 
he definitely needs to let off some steam

Jiminie
tbf jeongguk does look like you tried to eat him whole

Taehyung
i mean.

Jiminie
HOE

[Taehyung emphasised “HOE”]

Taehyung grins at his phone, his stomach swooping wildly. He feels a little shaky from the roller coaster ride of emotions this morning has sent him on, and he decides to leave his phone be from now. Judging by the fact that his mother saw them on tv, the tweet Jimin sent, and the ridiculous number of new followers on social media, he can guess their tender moment of pure happiness must’ve reached the masses.

He almost asked Jeongguk to kiss him. He would’ve, hadn’t they been interrupted.

Warmth races into his cheeks, and he has to slip his phone into the pocket of his slacks in order to bury his face in his hands for a moment. He’s so incredibly fucked, it’s actually ridiculous.

Turning back around, he antagonises himself in the mirror again.

There’s so much going on behind the aloof expression on his face; thoughts racing in circles, chasing one another and biting their own tails, spinning and spinning around their own axis in tight little circles. His mother belittling him. His father ignoring him. The news about that CELINE casting.

It’s probably a callback. Taehyung’s not that dense, he knows Jimin wouldn’t mention any news about a global brand this big and influential unless they were good. But he can’t help but notice how this news rolled in just after a genuine moment of his fake relationship was broadcasted internationally.

His mother’s voice echoes in his ears, Are you sure that’s not your new boyfriend’s doing?

Maybe it is. Wasn’t that the plan? Act like you’re in love with the one person the whole world has its eyes on, and let it work in your favour. It makes sense in a business that lives off opportunities, off the stars aligning, a golden moment. It’s as much luck as it is talent as it is skill. It’s efficient, and it works.

And still it’s hard to shake the thought that he himself – he’ll just never be good enough to make it.

Of course, then there’s this whole dilemma about Jeongguk. Taehyung’s caught feelings like a cold, quietly and unnoticed in passing, and now it’s striking him down full force. He wants Jeongguk, wants him bad, but he’s afraid doing something about it might tip off Eunchan further.

What a mess he’s gotten himself into. There's so much to fix, so many leaks to plug, and he doesn't know where to begin.

The smallest yet most insistent part of him just wants to ignore it all. So what if the universe has it out for him if he just crawls back into bed and drowns himself in sweet, sweet honeysuckle scent?

As if on cue, his eyes fall upon the small pile of Jeongguk’s clothing on the left next to the sink. It’s a sort of muted purple colour with a zipper and a hood. When he reaches his hand over, it’s soft to the touch, and before he knows any better, he’s got the thing cradled to his chest, sniffing at the neckline like the complete and utter freak that he is.

It smells mostly like laundry detergent and only faintly of the flowery scent he’s come to associate with Jeongguk.

Look, everyone has their moments of seemingly unexplained weirdness, and Taehyung’s had a very long, very exhausting, very Jeongguk-less half an hour of being awake, so really, he thinks as he slips the hoodie on, no one has any right to judge him, thank you very much. 

It zips up strangely, revealing the odd cut of the item of clothing; one side is cropped more than the other, the edges artfully frayed. The colour goes horribly with the red of Taehyung’s sweatpants, but it’s not like he’s a model on duty right now.

The material feels cosy and comfortable against his skin, almost like a hug but not quite. Taehyung zips the hoodie up all the way and nuzzles his nose against the neckline a couple times, and yeah, who’s he kidding, he’s not going to take it off anymore.

He makes no sound sneaking back into the main room of the suite. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because what he finds is a very bleary-eyed, frowning Jeongguk sitting hunched over on his side of the bed. Grumbling low in his throat, he runs a hand through his messy black hair, but that only causes it to properly stick every which way.

Taehyung just barely keeps himself from slumping against the nearest wall and simply dissolving into an embarrassed, smitten, lovestruck puddle. Instead, he wanders over to the window. Morning is filtering in lazily through the flowy curtains, and when he pulls them a few inches aside, he’s faced with a city glowing in the sun.

“That’s my hoodie.”

Letting his head tip a little forward so his forehead is resting against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, Taehyung bites his lip. Jeongguk’s voice is all rumbly and deep and a little scratchy, and it’s doing bad things to Taehyung’s brain.

But he somehow manages to hold onto his composure, turning around and even placing one knee on the mattress, as if he’s casually considering getting back into bed. The truth is that there is precisely nothing casual about the way it feels like Jeongguk is physically pulling him in.

“Well, baby,” he says, ignoring the way it wakes up the violent swarm of butterflies in his stomach. “Most important rule when dating me: what’s mine is mine and what’s yours,” he grins, “is also mine.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. Paired with his bedhead, it looks cuter than anything else. His eyes travel up and down Taehyung’s body, all the way from his face to the knee propped up on the bed. “I’m gonna get it back.”

“Oh, are you now?”

Their eyes lock, and Taehyung can’t explain to himself how the tension went from a relaxed twenty percent to a raging ninety in the past second. It’s a crackling wire between them, ready to snap.

The sudden silence is electrifying. They size each other up, gazes greedy and challenging and expectant.

And then there’s this mischievous glint in Jeongguk’s eyes. It’s stunning in every way, freezes Taehyung to the spot in the same way it’s begging him to make a run for it. It’s like his reflexes don’t work anymore, he’s paralysed, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do to protest the hand circling around his forearm and yanking him into bed.

There’s no time to recover, Jeongguk is on him in a heartbeat. His fingers are fast and relentless where they poke him in the ribs, pinch at his armpits, and caress over his tummy.

Yapping, Taehyung fights for air. Everything’s happening too fast, he doesn’t even have time to shriek or laugh before the next tickle lands at another spot on his body. He tries to squirm away, but his writhing legs get tangled in the blanket. There's no way he can launch an attack himself, he has to concentrate fully on defence.

Somehow, he discovers a pattern in Jeongguk’s offensive, and he manages to fend his cruel hands off a total of three times. It seems like Jeongguk’s having none of that though, and he’s definitely down to play dirty. Which, usually, is something Taehyung would expect, but–

One of Jeongguk’s hands captures his wrists in one swift motion. It catches him off guard so much, he can’t do anything about it, and the next thing he knows, his arms are stretched and secured over his head, and Jeongguk’s wedging one of his legs between his thighs, and he’s half on top of Taehyung, and everything smells nice, and Taehyung kind of wants to die.

Abruptly, all his thrashing about dies down. He’s pinned to the mattress. Jeongguk is way too close. The tight grip of his hand is making Taehyung’s head spin. Almost against his will, he feels pliable and docile, his head a little hazy and heavy in a pleasant way.

He could tell Jeongguk to stop. Could push him away if he really tried. Give him back the stupid hoodie, even though he’s about ninety-nine percent sure deep down this is not what it’s about at all.

But he doesn’t want to. He wants to be exactly where he is, wants to feel Jeongguk’s fingers flex around his wrists, watch the daring spark dance so mesmerisingly in his starry eyes.

Jeongguk’s free hand comes up between their bodies. Taehyung feels it smooth up his torso, over his chest, up until it’s almost at his throat.

He swallows, but he can’t bring himself to look away from Jeongguk’s face. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve found themselves in a situation where there’s simply no reasonable explanation as to why they’re this close to one another, but it’s exhilarating every time.

Jeongguk grabs the zipper and pulls, opening the hoodie slowly inch by inch.

Taehyung goes very still. Doesn’t blink. Holds his breath.

Their eyes meet. And then, all of a sudden, Taehyung can see it dawn on Jeongguk, the realisation of what he’s doing. His hand stills just above Taehyung’s navel, and his lips part ever so slightly, and Taehyung swears he can hear his heartbeat thumping in time with his own.

An eternity stretches between them.

There are no words on Taehyung's tongue that could articulate his desire.

The expression in Jeongguk’s eyes grows a little heavier, and it looks almost as if he’s slipping into an entirely different mindset right where Taehyung can see, and then he’s suddenly staring at his lips.

“Can I k–”

A horrible sound tears through the air. 

None of them jump. Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and closes his eyes. His nostrils flare a bit with the calming breath he takes, and there’s a tick in his jaw that, even now, Taehyung finds weirdly attractive and is itching to touch.

“Sorry, I…” He lets go of Taehyung’s wrists and rolls off him. “I pressed snooze earlier.”

Taehyung turns his head and watches him sit up and reach for his phone on the nightstand. The muscles in his back shift underneath his t-shirt. He wants to touch him. Smooth his palm over the planes of his shoulders. Pull him close again, this time intent on allowing nothing to interrupt them.

He stretches his hand out.

“Huh?” It’s the tiniest, most adorable sound falling from Jeongguk’s lips. When he scoots back over the mattress and leans against the headboard, Taehyung can see genuine confusion twisting his features. “Why do I have like, seven thousand notifications?”

“Oh.” Feeling slightly stupid for still lying on his back with one arm submissively stretched overhead, Taehyung scrambles to sit up. “Well, that’s probably because–”

“My mum texted me three times,” Jeongguk says. He shakes his head from the force of the cringe that follows, yet he manages to somehow still look at least a little fond. “And she’s using the two-boys-kissing emoji.”

“Your mum is adorable.”

Jeongguk directs a sceptical look at his phone. “Do I even wanna know what this is about?”

Reaching over, Taehyung splays his hand over Jeongguk’s phone, gently pressing it down so it’s resting against his thigh. While he finds the tweets and memes online funny, a part of himself is afraid Jeongguk might hate this kind of reaction.

“We were on tv,” he says tentatively. “Yesterday. After your game. A lot of people saw us, I think.”

It takes a few seconds for Jeongguk to connect the dots. His narrowed eyes jump between Taehyung and the darkened screen of his phone until, finally, he gets stuck on Taehyung’s face, and his features soften. He lifts a hand and touches his fingers to the bruising side of his neck. “Oh. Uh, right.” He pauses, clearly looking for what to say next. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

Taehyung wouldn’t have given a damn had he been alone in the stadium with Jeongguk. It’s not about that. Not anymore.

Except it is. The true expanse of his feelings is too scary to fully admit even to himself and least of all Jeongguk. This is his job, and while this whole crush thing might or might not work out in the end, he's got to make sure his career comes out prospering in any case.

“Yeah.” He nods, averting his eyes. “It’s good.”

“The people are talking. That’s what we wanted, right?”

“Right.”

He can feel Jeongguk’s quizzical gaze on him.

It’s laughable, really, how little he cares about success and numbers in that moment. It makes the quasi-argument he's had with his mother over the phone seem downright silly. He didn't try to get in the papers, not this time, not with the hug. And even though he should be grateful for this serendipity, he really just feels... robbed.

He needs to get his head on straight again.

“How did you… I mean.” Jeongguk turns his phone over in his hand. “Did you go online or…”

“My mum called me.”

“Your mum–” Jeongguk stops fumbling. Looks at his phone. At Taehyung.

“Not like that.” Taehyung shakes his head. He wouldn’t know what to do if his mother suddenly showed a genuine interest in who he is dating.

Probably weep.

Now, Jeongguk looks properly concerned. The fact that he’s gotten to know him well enough to understand the emotional impact a phone call from one of his parents could have on him makes Taehyung’s stomach coil with nerves.

“Are you okay?”

Great, now Taehyung’s about to cry. Looking up at the ceiling, he forces himself not to blink. The prickling sensation behind his nose is uncomfortable, but it dies down quickly the more he grinds his teeth together. He’s not going to shed tears about a fight he’s had a thousand times.

He needs to reply, but he doesn’t trust his own voice just yet, so he shrugs. It’s closer to the truth than a lie, which is definitely a first for him. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

And God, Taehyung finds he does. Jeongguk’s question sounds so genuine, like he’s truly going to listen. No one’s ever done that before, not even Hoseok or Jimin. And it’s not like it’s their fault; it’s not like they’re bad friends. They’re not, definitely not, they’re the opposite.

Taehyung’s the problem. He’s never opened up to someone about his family enough for them to find reason to genuinely worry. Thinking about it, he doesn’t really know why, except that it makes him feel embarrassingly weak. It’s humiliating, admitting that maybe, just maybe, his parents might not be so wrong in what they think about him.

A “no” is at the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t bring himself to say it. Instead, everything else tumbles out. It’s a little slow at first, reluctance and fear seizing after the words and trying to draw them back to a place deep inside him where they can rot in secret, but then, when Jeongguk does nothing but nod in sympathy and make little noises affirming him to go on, it becomes easier.

He leaves out the details about his mum’s doubts about their relationship, but he tells Jeongguk about her deprecation towards his cooperation with Levi's, and that sets him off, and then he's telling him about every achievement that's ever been disregarded by his parents. He talks about his siblings earning parental love by simply just existing, meanwhile he's out here working his fingers to the bone day and night and he doesn't even feel particularly liked, and if that causes a tear to steal out the corner of his eye, Jeongguk is nice enough to ignore him wiping it away viciously.

Venting like this lifts a weight off his chest he had no idea his heart had been permanently holding onto. Jeongguk doesn’t interrupt him once, but it never feels as if he’s stopped listening.

“And I’m pretty sure I got a callback from CELINE, but I don’t even have to worry about telling them about it, because they wouldn’t care anyway. I know a callback doesn’t mean I’m actually gonna end up walking a fashion week runway, but imagine if I do. It’s my dream, and my dad would roll his eyes and my mum would find a way to talk it down somehow. It’s like whatever I do,” he swallows down the lump forming in his throat, “I’m never going to be enough.”

Good enough. Enough to be proud of. Enough to love.

He’s never going to be those things.

Jeongguk remains quiet, clearly waiting for him to continue his rant, but even if there was more to say, Taehyung wouldn’t be able to. His emotions are tying up his throat, and his eyes are swimming, and this is just not how he imagined this morning to go.

“Isn’t the CELINE casting the one you didn’t feel good about?”

Taehyung blinks at him, puzzled. Another tear drops to his cheek. He quickly dries it off with the sleeve of Jeongguk’s hoodie.

“You mentioned it when we had dinner with my parents. You didn’t sound very hopeful about it.”

For a moment, all Taehyung can do is stare. The least thing he’s expected is Jeongguk truly caring about any of the trivial things he mentions off-handedly in an attempt to make conversation at the dinner table.

“I– Right. Yeah, that’s the one,” he says, thinking back to the afternoon of the casting. “Either the people there have ridiculously good poker faces, or… Well.” He hesitates, but the self-deprecating part of himself has been positively fuelled by that phone call earlier, so he continues, “Or it’s because they saw us on tv as well.”

Jeongguk considers this, tilting his head slightly. “They wouldn’t let you walk for them at such an important event if they weren’t convinced though.”

Huffing a wet laugh, Taehyung says, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

“But you said you don’t have the job yet. Technically, they can still say no.”

“Way to crush my hopes and dreams, Jeon.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jeongguk denies immediately. “I’m being realistic. Look, I don’t know, people are looking at you more now because of… because of what’s going on between us. But ultimately, that’s been the plan, right? It’s playing out in your favour.”

“But–”

The only time Jeongguk does stop him mid-sentence is pronouncedly gentle. “They wouldn’t keep looking if they didn’t see something they like, Taehyung.”

He sounds so upright and honest, Taehyung has to believe him.

“I still stand by what I said last time,” Jeongguk goes on. “I think your parents should support you no matter what you do, and I definitely think there’s more than enough reason to be proud of you now. But,” he adds on quickly when Taehyung perks up to argue. “I thought about the things you said.”

Taehyung closes his mouth. He shifts on the mattress, turning a little more towards Jeongguk and crossing his legs beneath his body. His knee is pressing into Jeongguk’s thigh.

“I wouldn’t have gotten into professional football if my parents hadn’t been there to support me every step of the way. I wouldn’t have picked photography as my major either. I’d be a completely different person than I am today.” He pauses, and Taehyung’s so endeared and touched by the way he’s carefully choosing his next words, his heart aches. “And you did it all by yourself. That’s damn impressive. Like you said, you worked your ass off for this, of course you want recognition. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I get it. I understand why you want to prove it to them so badly.”

It’s too much, Taehyung can’t look at him anymore. He drops his gaze, focuses it instead on his hands tangled in his lap.

A cautious hand touches his leg, close to his knee. Jeongguk draws little comforting circles with his thumb, slowly moving further up Taehyung’s thigh before turning his hand palm up. 

Although his heart is thundering in his chest, Taehyung doesn’t hesitate. He intertwines their fingers. It’s crazy how much easier it is to breathe all of a sudden.

“However,” Jeongguk says softly, caressing Taehyung’s knuckles. “I do believe that their validation isn’t some sort of scale that determines whether you’re good enough or not. I think that putting this much weight on their opinion might one day turn your drive into spite, and isn’t that when a dream loses its meaning?”

He might be right about that. Taehyung can’t picture himself ever wanting something else as much as he wants success, but he can see how one day his parents' disapproval might sour this desire so much that he ends up feeling trapped inside his own dream.

Slowly, Taehyung nods. He’s hypnotised by Jeongguk’s gentle touch, his gentler words.

“And for what it’s worth,” Jeongguk continues. He playfully flicks Taehyung’s chin with his free hand before pressing his fingers to the underside of it and tipping his head back so Taehyung has no choice but to look him in the eye. “I really don’t think it’s because of me. Take the Levi’s thing for example. You’ll be the face of their fall campaign.” He smiles. “That’s ‘cause you convinced them. You did that.”

The honesty and confidence in Jeongguk’s voice is the first stitch to something broken inside Taehyung. Hearing them stings a little bit, because his initial instinct is to doubt and reject each and every word, to make himself believe the opposite, but authenticity pokes him like a sharp needle, gliding right through him and patching up that open wound of insecurity.

There are a lot of things he could call Jeongguk, but never a liar.

“Jimin said it’s because my ass looks good in their jeans.”

Jeongguk doesn’t laugh. “That’s true.”

Warmth rises to Taehyung’s cheeks.

“Don’t think the jeans are responsible for that, though,” Jeongguk says. He tilts his head, a pondering look on his face. “And if it’s not the jeans, and it’s not me… It must be you.”

With the hand not currently intertwined with Jeongguk’s, Taehyung reaches up and bumps his forefinger into Jeongguk’s chest. “Well played, Jeon.”

Making a hurt noise, Jeongguk pretends as if Taehyung’s finger did some actual damage to him. He flinches back, the sudden absence of his touch evoking a biting cold against Taehyung’s chin. His eyes roll dramatically before he slowly slumps over like an injured soldier. 

Taehyung doesn’t let him, though, flexing his hand and dragging him into an upright position again. He’s a little too forceful – subconsciously or not, he’s got no idea – and Jeongguk falters in his position, tipping a little further into Taehyung's personal bubble.

Once again, their gazes find one another. And then there it is again – that gravitational pull, more insistent than ever. It’s like they’re drawn to each other by some invisible magnetic force of the universe, two celestial bodies on a direct course towards collision.

But Taehyung can’t. He needs to decelerate. He’s too vulnerable for a crash; he’d burst into his own galaxy of tiny, messily scattered shards, dependent on Jeongguk’s orbit to keep him together somehow.

So he doesn’t break the silence with a kiss, but with words. “Thank you. Not for the compliment about my ass. Although – thanks for that as well, I guess. But also… just for…” He shrugs, completely avoiding Jeongguk’s eyes again in favour of playing with his hand. “Listening. And saying all that. Thank you.”

Instead of answering right away, Jeongguk pulls on their joined hands. Taehyung doesn’t protest, only follows the movement with his widening eyes as his hand gets lifted and–

Jeongguk presses a kiss to his knuckles. And it’s careful and gentle and soft, and no one’s ever been careful, gentle, or soft with Taehyung, and he doesn’t know what to do with this except watch it happen and hope the most tender of all touches isn’t enough to shatter him.

“Anytime,” he says. And then he grins slyly. “Both, I mean. Compliment about your ass and listening. Whenever you need one or the other.”

Taehyung snorts, but he also has this weird urge to cry. It’s like Jeongguk’s managed to lure every single one of his emotions out of their deep slumber, and now they’re all mixing together in a whirlwind that’s swept up his heart.

This time, it’s Taehyung poking Jeongguk in the ribs, for a change.

***

Pretty soon, Jeongguk’s alarm goes off again, and this time, they’ve got to hurry. 

Jeongguk, electric toothbrush humming away in one corner of his mouth, finds an opportunity to bring up the hoodie again, and so the entire process of getting ready turns into this verbal and physical game of cat and mouse. 

Eventually, Taehyung, with his back against the wall next to the door leading to the bathroom and minty breath fanning against his face, wins the argument with a disarming “It’s July”, a dazzling grin, and a knowing “And you run hot, remember?” and now Jeongguk’s quietly sulking in his denim track pants and simple grey shirt, and his pout is such a stark contrast to the sleeve of tattoos flashing about, Taehyung almost willingly gives up his victory for the sake of his own sanity.

The mood between Jeongguk and some of his teammates on the bus is tense, but luckily this dissipates as soon as all of them board the private plane and they scurry off further down the aisle. Seoho, in the direct and sort of bulldozer-esque way of his that Taehyung’s come to expect and quite frankly, like, leans over and asks about the situation. As expected, Jeongguk, emotionally constipated as he tends to be, does nothing but huff and roll his eyes in annoyance, so Taehyung himself takes the freedom to fill Seoho in on the matter.

“Ah, fuck them.” He falls back in his seat, giving Taehyung a look that, if Taehyung’s not mistaken, looks apologetic. “They’re pissed off ‘cause they’re not in the line up for next year’s World Cup.” A grin splits his face and he adds in a slightly over the top sing-song tone, “Unlike some people.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, but Taehyung notices the telltale twitch of his mouth, and he kind of can’t help but hook his foot around Jeongguk’s ankle – just to be touching him, really.

“No one likes a showoff, you know,” Hajin chimes in from across Seoho.

“Dude, you are literally also part of the line up.”

“And hubris is literally one of the seven deadly sins.”

All, Seoho, Jeongguk, and Taehyung, throw a pointed look Hajin’s way. He manages to level their stares for a total of three seconds before also breaking out into a prideful grin, which, in turn, makes them all break out into mischievous giggles.

The flight is much too short. Now that things have shifted and shifted again between him and Jeongguk, there’s so much they can talk about, and Taehyung finds that’s really all he wants to do. A breakfast buffet is served in the plane’s common area and, after retrieving their snacks of choice, the two of them settle in on one of the comfortable sofas lining the sides of the aircraft and chat about everything and nothing. Never before has Taehyung been so thoroughly listened to, even as he’s doing nothing but narrate the plot of this one anime he’s found out Jeongguk hasn’t watched yet to him.

Inside of him, there’s this subconscious hunch, this kind of safety mechanism: Don’t get used to this. It’s gonna stop. No one’s actually interested in you.

The disappointment sets in when all too soon, they have to return to their seats for the landing, and then, before he knows any better, he’s pushing past a wall of reporters and paparazzi gathered in front of the airport, and Jeongguk’s hand is in his again, with his thumb swiping calmingly over his knuckles, and it stays there, right there, until they arrive at his car.

Seoul welcomes them with its familiar neighbourhoods, the late afternoon sun casting a trace of glitter onto the river and breaking into blinding rainbows in the impeccable glass facades of the highrises all around. Taehyung watches it with his head leaned against the passenger side window, feeling somehow both relaxed and restless.

They’re already halfway to his apartment when he remembers Jimin’s insistence to see him as soon as he sets foot back in the country. A quiet kind of excitement seeps back into him at the thought, and it’s only multiplied when Jeongguk reacts to his sudden demand for a change of direction with nothing but a smile.

“Thanks,” Taehyung says when the car rolls to a stop at the side of a moderately busy street in Gangnam, right in front of the building hosting his agency.

Jeongguk moves his hand on the steering wheel and the moody RnB sounding from the speakers decreases in volume. “No problem. Need help with the suitcase?”

For some weird fucking reason, Taehyung blushes. “No, that’s okay.” He pauses. Bites his lip. And then again, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to carry it around with you, you know,” Jeongguk says, the tone of his voice a little too casual. “I could also bring it round to your place later. When you’re home, I mea–”

“No!” Taehyung blurts out. Immediately, he clams his mouth shut. He sees the blatant rejection slap Jeongguk in the face, yet somehow he’s the one who’s hurting. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want Jeongguk in his space, no, he’d love that actually, would do a long list of potentially embarrassing things just to get to be alone with him – it’s just that he hasn’t gotten back to Eunchan yet, and he doesn’t trust the guy not to show up unannounced at his flat again.

“Alright.” Jeongguk doesn’t shift in his seat, but it still appears to Taehyung he coils in on himself a little bit. “Was just offering. It’s fine if you don’t–”

“I do!”

“What?”

“I mean.” God, Taehyung is a mess. Who would’ve thought spending one singular night cuddled up to his crush would do such a number on him? The way Jeongguk’s face is so cute when scrunched up in confusion isn’t helping either. Quickly, he averts his eyes, looking down at his hands in his lap instead and fumbling with the sleeves of Jeongguk’s hoodie. “It’s not… I don’t know how long this is gonna take, and you’re probably tired and want the evening to yourself.”

With a low inhale, Jeongguk opens his mouth, and Taehyung almost lets him protest.

“Maybe another day?” He blinks back up when he says it, and he allows just enough hope to seep into his voice to get Jeongguk to understand he really means it. Because he does, he really does.

And the way Jeongguk looks at him – it feels so nice. It's not taunting or judgemental like it once used to be, and Taehyung's no idea when that changed or what he did to deserve this, but maybe, he thinks, maybe this one time he can let himself have the nice thing without questioning it.

In an attempt at nonchalance that somehow carries a lot more weight, he adds, “I need to show you my favourite movie too, after all.”

Jeongguk holds his eye contact for a second longer before huffing a small idea of a laugh that, if Taehyung isn’t mistaken, sounds nervous. “You didn’t even see the end of mine.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. One of his hands flies over the middle console and pokes Jeongguk in the chest. “Excuse me? I didn’t fall asleep,” he says, even though he totally did.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but it feels like Jeongguk’s squaring up under his touch just a little bit. Which is completely unnecessary, Taehyung can feel his strong, solid pecs just fine, thank you very much. Before he can (albeit reluctantly) retreat his hand back to safer territory, Jeongguk’s own draws up, and just like that, before Taehyung knows any better, their fingers are tangled together again.

This needs to stop happening. Either that, or it needs to stop giving Taehyung a heart attack every time it does.

“Text me when you get home tonight?” 

It’s so sweet, how he says it. Genuine, but at the same time no pressure behind it. At this point, only the seatbelt still clicked into place is keeping Taehyung from wedging himself between Jeongguk and the steering wheel.

He nods. He’s fine. He’s cool. “Okay.”

“And if you need a ride…” 

Oh, desperately.

He can’t say that. But he’s kinda afraid he’s going to, so he quickly bites his lip, sinks his teeth into the bottom one so hard, it actually hurts. It draws Jeongguk’s attention to his mouth, and Taehyung’s sure he must be aware of the ambiguity of his words, but the fucker doesn’t seem bothered at all.

He wants this. He wants Taehyung to hear whatever it is he wants to hear.

The shrug in Jeongguk’s shoulders is more evident in the features of his face: the slight tilt of his head, raised brows, quirked mouth. “I’d willingly offer myself up.”

With anyone else, this would’ve been a clear sign, a light as green as it gets. But with Jeongguk it sounds like this twisted kind of challenge, and Taehyung doesn’t know what to do or say that’ll get him out the winning end.

“A true gentleman, huh.”

This earns him a smile so pure, Taehyung nearly regrets saying it just for his poor heart’s sake. Jeongguk’s fingers caress his hand, lightly, but it’s enough to pull on each and every of Taehyung’s senses.

He’s never getting out of this car.

“I mean it,” Jeongguk says in a low voice. He glances down at their joint hands. Back up at Taehyung’s face. His eyes are wide and a little curious, but Taehyung can watch them grow heavier and heavier as his stare zeroes in on his mouth once more.

“Okay.” It’s too much, too tempting, too dangerous. Taehyung already knows it’ll take every fibre of his being not to call Jeongguk to personally escort him to his flat (and preferably also his bed) later.

Jeongguk shifts their hands so Taehyung’s is sort of splayed over his, and for a moment Taehyung thinks he’s gonna press a kiss to his knuckles again, and for a moment it looks like Jeongguk’s thinking about it but decides against it in favour of looking Taehyung in the eyes.

It’s such an oddly domestic moment, the two of them in the car. A snapshot from a future Taehyung’s much too scared to imagine himself: him ready for work, for once hopeful as to what’s waiting for him, and Jeongguk, who drove him there, who will pick him up later, who will watch movies and fall asleep with him like every night, who kisses him and hugs him and tells him his honest opinion on things, who listens to what he says and who takes it to heart.

It’s such an oddly domestic moment, and it’s so uncharacteristic for Taehyung, buoyant, easy-going, playful Taehyung, who doesn’t do domestic, not with his lovers and surely not with someone he’s never even kissed – and it’s even more uncharacteristic how utterly, totally, and completely okay he is with it.

Jeongguk could kiss him right now. Taehyung wants him to. God, he wants him to kiss him, he wants him to take him home, he wants his late afternoons, his midnights, his lazy mornings, he wants it all.

Don’t get used to this.

But.

They could really be something, couldn’t they?

Jeongguk lets go of his hand.

It’s quick, too quick, as if Taehyung’s skin’d spontaneously seared up and burnt him. He’s back to clutching the steering wheel, holding on for dear life. “Right, um.”

Inside his head, Taehyung trips. Stumbles. Falters on the spot. But he’s got too much experience with this, with getting his hopes up time and time again only for them to uncontrollably crash to the ground, so he catches himself before he can fall.

“I’ll go.”

Jeongguk directs a curt nod at his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

This is Taehyung’s cue to leave. He’s bided his time long enough, Jimin’s probably going to decapitate him if he’s any later, and a model without a head… well, that’s not exactly ideal, now is it.

Without much further ado, he gathers his things and moves out of the vehicle. After exchanging friendly but terse goodbyes with Jeongguk, he swings the passenger door shut and turns on his heel towards his agency. He feels strangely lonely, the rattling wheels of his suitcase as he’s pulling it along his only company, even despite all the pedestrians out and about.

When, after half a minute or so, he still hasn’t heard the engine of Jeongguk’s car rev back up, he throws a look over his shoulder.

What he finds does the funniest of things to his insides. It feels like his heart and his stomach are knotted in a complicated ball, and someone’s dribbling them around his belly, occasionally shooting for the hoop near his throat.

Jeongguk sits in the driver’s seat, unchanged. Except he’s got a hand buried in his hair, pulling lightly at the strands, and his head is leaned back, the hickeys to the side of his neck on full display, his eyes closed, and it looks like he’s in desperate need of collecting himself.

Not just me then, Taehyung thinks, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less out of his own depth here. It’s a little comforting to know that at least he might be messing with Jeongguk’s head somewhat as much as he is with his.

That aching feeling is back in his chest, and it gets worse and worse the longer he stands in the middle of the pavement, so close yet so far away from where he ought to be on one side, and where he wants to be on the other.

Jeongguk’s torso rises and falls with a deep, calming sigh.

Taehyung’s feet are begging him to go back.

But then his phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans, and he doesn’t have to check to know it’s Jimin yelling at him because he’s spotted him motionless in the streets from several floors above.

Don’t get used to this. He looks at Jeongguk for a moment longer, wondering when he’ll open his eyes again. Don’t.

***

Jimin is a ball of buzzing, overjoyed energy, and Taehyung loves him, really, he loves him so much, but he’s just way too exhausted to match this level of excitement. The past twenty-four hours or so have been rough on his emotional stability, he’s in dire need of a break.

Luckily, Hoseok’s also there. He doesn’t even let Taehyung finish his initial greeting before he straps him into an office chair and presses a fresh juice into his hand. 

Taehyung gets exactly half a second to catch his breath, and then he’s walked through what looks like the busiest week of his entire life. What he’s staring at doesn’t even look like his google calendar anymore, the days crowded with appointments from top to bottom.

And it just goes on. One busy week turns into two turns into three.

Mouth snug around the straw in his drink, he gawks from Hoseok to Jimin, stunned.

“It’s a yes from CELINE. I mean, it’s a callback, but that’s basically a yes.”

There’s a flutter in Taehyung’s chest. The blatant optimism in Jimin’s voice, how he’s never faltered in his belief in him – it means a lot to Taehyung.

“GQ want you for their cover for August.” Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically, which Taehyung would react to with the same fond scoff as Hoseok next to him if he weren’t so hung up on the word cover. “August, can you believe that? Apparently they think we’ve got nothing better to do than to jump as soon as they put the offer out.”

“Chim,” Taehyung throws in. It feels like his skin is crawling from the inside, but not in the uncomfortable, antsy way. “We’ll definitely jump. I’m gonna do the August cover.”

“Of course you will.” Jimin swooshes a dismissive hand through the air. “Obviously.”

It takes almost an hour for his friends to brief him on all the things he’s got coming up, and by the end of it, Taehyung feels like there’s smoke coming out his ears.

He can’t quite wrap his head around it all. He’s had this one viral moment with Jeongguk, this accidental, lucky happenstance of a genuine, private moment caught from the right angle at the right time, and now – literally overnight – people know who he is.

Fashion Week for CELINE. GQ cover. Sole face of the Levi’s fall campaign. Editorials with two of Korea’s best known fashion photographers.

He’s doing it. He’s doing it all.

And all he can think about is how much he wants to tell Jeongguk about it.

It's a nice deviation from the usual mix of dread and anticipation he feels whenever he’s dying to tell his parents he's landed a (usually singular) bigger job, but he suspects it's not much more healthy. But he can’t help it. He recalls the pride in Jeongguk’s voice when he told his parents about Taehyung’s ad campaign with Levi’s, and thinking about what direct praise would sound like from his lips makes Taehyung a little dizzy.

They go over Taehyung’s schedule for the rest of the week in detail. The next couple days are packed with fittings for various shoots and negotiations about the brands featured on his social media profiles. Apparently, there’s been a dramatic increase in the use of his affiliate links in the past few hours.

Around six, Hoseok hugs them goodbye and clocks out of work in time to make it to his weekly pilates class. Taehyung’s stomach is properly rumbling, but the more time he spends looking at his upcoming appointments and hearing Jimin gush about the upcoming events the more excited he gets. They accompany Hoseok downstairs, but only to pick up poke bowls from a restaurant near the agency.

Once they’re back in the office, Taehyung immediately settles in on the floor in front of one of the large windows in their usual briefing room, laying out the different food cartons like he’s having a picnic and snapping a quick picture of it to post to his Instagram story. With a swooping stomach, his gaze snaps up again and again towards the projection of his schedule against the white wall of the room.

Jimin saunters in, balancing two coke cans from the vending machine down the hall in one hand, and pushes the glass door shut behind him. “So,” he says ominously after he’s placed the beverages on the floor and reached over to turn off the beamer. No more work, then. “Now that that’s done…”

The can makes a sharp fizzing noise when Taehyung cracks it open. He's actively avoiding Jimin's stare and he's more than aware that Jimin can tell.

But Jimin wouldn’t be Jimin if that was enough to stop him. Careful not to topple anything over, he pushes the food containers aside – and then he flings himself over so that his head lands right in Taehyung’s lap and he’s blinking up at him.

“Jimin–”

“What in the AO3 enemies to lovers fake dating mutual pining slow burn is going on?”

Yeah, there’s no escaping this. Usually, Taehyung would try. He’d pretend not to have a clue as to what Jimin is talking about, and when he’d eventually break he’d talk it down until he’s rationalised all his feelings.

For some reason, he can’t do that this time. He’s much too vulnerable, and it kind of feels like it’s stretching him out from the inside and he’s about half a second from bursting, and also Jimin is his best friend, surely he’s allowed a moment of weakness here.

He lets go of his drink and instead buries his face in the palm of his hands, hunching over a little bit. “I don’t know.”

“No, uh-uh.” Wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s wrists, Jimin pulls his hands back. “Face it.”

Taehyung jerks his knee up and down so Jimin’s head wobbles. He hesitates for a moment, but the bait looks too tasty, so he’ll bite. “I don’t think the pining is mutual.”

“Huh,” Jimin says, eyebrows knit. “That’s funny. I happen to think he’s mentally undressing you every time he looks at you. It’s disgusting, really. I want all the details.”

Stubbornly, Taehyung insists, “There are no details.”

Without looking, Jimin reaches for a pair of wooden chopsticks. He tears the paper wrapping off and uses them to poke the underside of Taehyung’s chin. “Bullshit. I’ve known there’s something cooking between the two of you ever since we booked you into the Honeymoon Lodge–”

“That was fucking evil of you,” Taehyung tells him because he hasn’t actually gotten back at Jimin for it. He swats the assaulting chopsticks away.

“Just tell me how many times you guys have come close to sucking each other’s face off.”

Unbearable heat races into Taehyung’s cheeks and traitorously, it tries to pull up the corners of his mouth into a giddy grin as well. That’s just the effect thinking about Jeongguk has on him lately – that, and turning his insides into a mushy, flip flopping mess.

“Like.” He shrugs. “Maybe two, three, four times, I don’t know, okay?” He pushes Jimin off for good and petulantly reaches for his own pair of chopsticks.

Crawling back to his original spot on the floor and crossing his legs beneath his body, Jimin cuts him a look. “Oh my God, why don’t you just do it, then?”

The chopsticks snap apart between Taehyung’s fingers. He pulls one of the poke bowls closer, but he doesn’t pick up anything to eat just yet. “Because that’d be unprofessional?”

“I appreciate that you try, babe.” Jimin leans over and pats his thigh. “But I don’t buy it.”

Taehyung picks up a piece of tuna and plops it in his mouth. “It’s just happening too fast, isn’t it.”

“Tae, you’ve allegedly been dating the guy for almost two months now. I don’t think you’re showing interest too fast.”

“I’m not showing interest,” Taehyung lies.

“Babe.”

He throws his head back in a desperate plea. “Jimin, please, I need you to stage an intervention here.”

“Look,” Jimin says, picking up his own bowl. With the tip of his chopstick, he nudges a stray edamame bean who dared bonding a little too much with the avocado back into its rightful pile. “I’m not saying you should like, marry the guy. – Stop looking at me like that, I’m aware of the irony.”

Taehyung, who’d cut his best friend a look that directly translated to Are you for fucking real now?, tips his head back forward, but only to openly roll his eyes and make sure Jimin sees it. He scoots back a little as he does so, back now leaned against the nearest office wall.

“I’m just saying,” Jimin goes on, pointedly picking up a piece of tuna himself and dramatically waving it through the air so much that Taehyung’s afraid it might end up in his mouth instead. “If you were to have a little fun I’d literally be the last person to hold it over your head.”

“But it’s just– Wait.” Chopsticks buried in the rice of his bowl, Taehyung stops in his tracks. He narrows his gaze at his best friend, suspicious. “What do you mean, literally?”

At once, Jimin shovels so much food into his mouth, it gives him hamster cheeks. Taehyung regards him with a levelling, almost bored expression as he patiently waits for him to chew and swallow.

Finally, Jimin murmurs, “Yoongi and I might be texting.”

Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air loudly. “What?” When did that happen? Last time he checked (this freaking morning) Jimin had denied all contact to Jeongguk’s manager outside of work.

“By texting I mean we switched from emails to dms today,” Jimin says. The blush from his cheeks is slowly spreading over the bridge of his nose. “Because that’s faster and, I quote, more efficient. And then he wished me a splendid evening.”

“That really gets you going, doesn’t it.”

Jimin lets out a deep sigh that teeters the edge to sounding like an unabashed moan. “God, you can’t even imagine. But don’t deflect. We’re talking about how you getting laid is a good idea.”

Mixing the contents of his bowl – this earns him the most outraged look from Jimin he’s ever been on the receiving end of – Taehyung says, “You do remember what happened last time I got laid, right?”

Tuna and avocado fall back into Jimin’s bowl halfway to his mouth. “That was the last time?”

Taehyung hums a noncommittal noise.

“But you said the video was taken in like, May.”

“April,” Taehyung corrects him. It’s been almost four months since he’s been with Eunchan, and it’s still haunting him to this day. To Jimin’s raised left eyebrow he says, “I’ve been busy, alright?”

“Mhm,” Jimin says. “Busy falling for South Korea’s Golden Boy. And sucking his neck. Among other things, I presume, because you won’t actually say.”

Taehyung lets his head fall back again, but this time, he’s forgotten there’s a wall behind him now. He flinches back forward, hoping that that impact killed at least some of the brain cells that get so incredibly flustered whenever Jeongguk as much as looks at him.

“Jimin, please.” He’s not above begging. It’s a complicated situation he’s found himself in. There’s a lot he can’t tell his best friend, partly because he doesn’t understand half the feelings swirling around wildly inside of him, partly because he’s scared shitless of the other half. “I need you to be the voice of reason here, not the devil on my shoulder.”

“Right.” Jimin holds an edamame bean between his front teeth for a moment before sucking it into his mouth. He adds, “It’s not worth it, Tae. Look at him – Wait, actually, maybe don’t.”

Taehyung huffs a laugh around the rice he’s eating.

“I bet he’s the worst kisser in the entire world,” Jimin says, and Taehyung just really appreciates the effort his best friend puts in to sound even remotely like he means any of his words. “He’s got those lips, I don’t know. And he’s probably like, the worst fuck you’ll ever have. It’s like, vanilla, but boring as shit.”

He looks increasingly less convinced, which Taehyung can only suspect is a direct mirror of the expression on his own face.

“Okay, maybe not,” Jimin rows back, going for the other extreme instead. “Then I bet he’s into freaky shit. Tying up and all that.”

Taehyung purses his lips thoughtfully.

Tilting his head, Jimin throws him another one of his pointed looks. “Fine. Degradation? He like, calls you names in be– Okay. He’s into the whole daddy thing? – Oh my God, Taehyung. Okay, I know. Feet. Water play?”

Finally, Taehyung’s face twists. 

Jimin snaps his fingers in triumph. “He’s a pee guy!”

“No, stop, please,” Taehyung cries, placing his bowl on the ground next to his legs and shaking his head in vehement jerks. He reaches for the coke as if he needs to wash down the taste of Jimin’s words.

“Excuse me? Are you kink shaming your boyfriend?”

Taehyung chokes. He coughs violently, feeling the fizz of the coke in his nose.

Snickering, Jimin grabs a box of tissues from the desk behind him. “Are you for real? Because I called him your boyfriend? Man, you’re a goner.”

“No, sorry, it was more that you alluded he might wanna pee on me.”

“So that’d be a dealbreaker, yeah?”

It’s difficult to keep the traitorous grin tugging on the corners of his mouth at bay. Curling his lips to the side as if he’s deep in thought, Taehyung weighs his head from left to right. He hums in consideration.

With precisely zero hesitation, Jimin chucks his chopsticks at him. Reflexes too slow, Taehyung doesn’t manage to duck away, but that doesn’t matter, the grin has already taken over his face, and laughter is breaking out of him as well.

Way too much time has passed since he’s last talked shit with his best friend. And he’s missed it. A lot, actually. It’s kind of crazy how it magically clears his head enough to push his problems and fears to the side for a bit.

The conversation about Jeongguk continues, but not in the loaded Why not date him for real way but more in the Do you think he screams ‘goal’ when he puts it in way. It’s ridiculous and silly but also absolutely hilarious. Lightheartedness feels good when what Taehyung’s really doing is essentially tread completely uncharted emotional territory with Jeongguk.

Still, whenever there’s a quiet moment, all he can think of is how much he misses that hotel room in Tokyo already.

***

The sky is a deep cobalt blue by the time Jimin and he carpool halfway through the city. Their apartments lie in the same direction but aren’t in the same neighbourhood so all too soon, Taehyung waves his best friend goodbye and watches him bounce on the balls of his feet towards his building as the taxi takes off again.

Now that he’s alone, his phone is back in his hand in less than the blink of an eye.

The lockscreen doesn’t show any new messages from Jeongguk. It’s a little pathetic, the sinking feeling of disappointment low in his belly, especially when he’d been the one to insist Jeongguk get the evening to himself.

Leaning his head sideways against the window, Taehyung taps his way into Instagram. The app takes a moment to refresh, but then the latest posts of the people he follows pop up on his timeline. He perks up instantly.

A certain @jeonjeongguk posted 11 minutes ago.

It’s a photo dump of four pictures, the caption a simple :). The first photo is a shot of him in some fancy ass restaurant, the biggest smile on his face half obscured by a considerably empty wine glass. He’s clad in double denim, the jacket making his shoulders appear extra broad.

Taehyung swipes to the left. The other pictures are all taken in Japan. The second slide shows Jeongguk, Hajin, and Seoho striking dumb poses in the middle of a football field. Taehyung finds himself in the third picture. He hadn’t even noticed Jeongguk taking it as he stood with his back to the bed earlier today, gazing out at Tokyo’s skyline tinged in soft morning sunlight, Jeongguk’s hoodie, the one he’s still wearing, hanging off his shoulders.

Smiling softly, he reaches the last post. It’s a video. Of Taehyung. From inside the Tigers’ private aeroplane.

He switches to his and Jeongguk’s private messages. Stares down at the silly contact name. Pulls up the keyboard. Comes up empty.

After a minute or so, his screen dims before it goes completely dark.

Why is he so nervous?

He’s about to do the silliest thing possible and ask the taxi driver for advice on how to be super chill about texting your crush who’s also kind of your boyfriend except not really, but that’s when his phone buzzes and lights up with a new text.

Molden Boy
hey

Butterflies erupt in Taehyung’s stomach.

Taehyung
i was just thinking about you

Immediately, his eyes widen. 

Well, that was stupid. 

He needs to save himself.

Taehyung
about you and your stupid face ofc

Somehow, it feels like that made it worse. Why didn’t he just text a greeting back, you know, like a normal person?

It takes a moment for Jeongguk to reply, despite the message being marked as read right away (which is equal parts cute and, in this case, mortifying). But then instead of another text, a picture appears in their message thread.

It’s a selfie – because apparently Jeongguk just doesn’t give a flying fuck about the state of his sanity. Taehyung has to close his eyes for a second and force himself to count to three very slowly before he absolutely devours every pixel in front of him.

It looks like Jeongguk’s on his couch in what Taehyung assumes is his dimly lit living room. There’s art on the wall but he can’t guess of what, he’s too focused on Jeongguk’s pout taking up most of the frame. He’s wearing the same denim jacket as he did in the Instagram post. And it’s still such a mystery to Taehyung, how he manages to look absolutely adorable and sinfully hot all at once.

Taehyung
ok maybe not that stupid

An understatement, sure, but at least the last ounce of his dignity is preserved.

Molden Boy
i think yours is pretty stupid

Taehyung scoffs.

Taehyung
just say you want a picture and go jeon

Molden Boy
i want a picture darling

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Taehyung stares at the text for a while. He imagines Jeongguk saying it, telling him he wants to see him in a voice roughened by alcohol. Heat flares up inside him. One of his hands reaches up and pulls the zipper of Jeongguk's hoodie down to the middle of his chest. For fashion purposes he got rid of the t-shirt he'd been wearing underneath before they left for the airport this morning, and now he's thankful for it, because he really feels too damn hot and stuffy.

He opens the camera on his phone and aims it at himself. The photo he snaps is dark and a little blurry, but he’s visible, illuminated by the passing streetlights racing over his face. He isn’t smiling, but he isn’t pouting either; he’s giving the best innocent yet sultry expression he can muster up after such a long day, hoping it’ll do the job.

Jeongguk is lurking in their chat, but it takes him over three minutes to send another reply. The taxi is rolling past familiar residence buildings now, and Taehyung alternates between checking how far they are from his place and staring at Jeongguk’s name in his phone.

Molden Boy
nice hoodie

Taehyung
thought you wanted to look at my face

Molden Boy
yeah i do
i am

Taehyung
not so stupid now is it

Molden Boy
the least stupid

Taehyung
youre so good at compliments <3

Before Taehyung can obsess over the fact that Jeongguk seems torn between typing a reply and ignoring him, the taxi rolls to a stop in front of his apartment building. He quickly pays the driver through the app on his phone and gets out, suitcase, carry-on bag and all.

The walk to his apartment feels hours long. There’s no connection in the elevator, so he refrains from checking his phone again until he’s standing in the middle of his living room.

Molden Boy
if you want praise you gotta earn it

Taehyung lets his luggage be luggage and instead tips his body over the back of his couch. He probably shouldn’t get too comfortable, he’s got a few packed days coming up and he should definitely use every opportunity to sleep that presents itself.

But.

Taehyung
you should be nicer to someone whos just bagged next months GQ cover

Molden Boy
wait
are you for real

Taehyung
yeah :D
got a bunch of good news

Molden Boy
can i call you?

And that’s how he spends another night on the phone with Jeongguk until his eyes feel too heavy to keep open – and then an hour or so more. He lets Taehyung recount his upcoming schedule in detail, and he asks questions, and he sounds genuinely excited for him, and Taehyung’s suddenly so happy he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s long past midnight when he crawls into bed, the good night text from Jeongguk lighting up his phone the last thing he sees before drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.

***

Over the next three weeks, Taehyung’s career properly takes off. His name is in all the papers, across all social media, in everyone’s mouth. He’s making a ridiculous amount of money from sponsorships alone, plus the payment from the Levi’s ad rolls in. Paying Eunchan his demanded hush money before the end of July is no problem, and with that guy off his back for at least a little while longer, a small weight lifts off Taehyung’s chest.

He doesn’t get a chance to breathe, though.

It’s all nice and dandy, really, the money, the jobs, the opportunities – there’s just one crucial fault in it all: He doesn’t see Jeongguk for almost a month.

The first couple days, he feels disappointed, but there’s not much time to dwell on it all because he’s hurrying from one fitting to the next, turning and twirling in front of mirrors, posing for photographs, walking makeshift runways for impressed clients ready to book him.

And then it’s hell.

It’s not that the public is suspicious – they have enough content still from their time at the Honeymoon Lodge ready to unleash – it’s more that Jeongguk’s small, deflated “Oh” when Taehyung tells him he’s got another late evening shoot actually rips his heart apart.

But Jeongguk’s understanding as well. During the first week apart, they talk on the phone every three days or so. It’s every other day in week two, and by the time they enter the third one, Taehyung’s dozed off to Jeongguk’s voice two nights in a row already.

The Saturday after their time in Japan, Taehyung gets home at a quarter to one at night, head swimming from an exhausting photoshoot, flashlights still dancing in front of his eyes whenever he closes them. Just when he pours himself a final glass of water before hopping straight into bed, his phone lights up with the selfie of Jeongguk he’d sent him the other night.

South Korea’s Golden Boy is drunk off his ass, and it’s actually the funniest conversation Taehyung’s had in his entire life. As Jeongguk tells him in epic detail about the night out to a private club in Hongdae he’s had with Seoho and Hajin, he sinks to the floor in his kitchen, shaking with laughter and endearment at the cute and completely overjoyed excitement in his voice.

They end the call when Jeongguk’s made it to his bed safely, sheets rustling against the speaker of his phone. The “I miss you” he mumbles is so quiet, Taehyung almost doesn’t catch it.

But he does, and it overwhelms him how much he reciprocates it.

That night is the very first time Taehyung kind of hates his job.

The following Monday, the Tigers lose a game against another team based in Seoul. From what Taehyung gathers through following it all on and off via Twitter, something seems off about the chemistry between the players. Later, Taehyung receives a petty string of texts from Jeongguk how this is absolutely his fault since he’s the designated lucky charm, how dare he not come to the game, and he better be ready to “make up for this.”

He doesn’t specify what exactly he means by that, but it’s not like Taehyung isn’t down for anything and everything.

Two days after that, Jeongguk calls him again late at night – stone cold sober this time.

“Aerin’s just called me.”

All the butterflies fluttering around in the pit of Taehyung’s belly shrivel up and die at once.

“Oh,” he says, pouring boiling water from the kettle into a mug. He’s in the kitchen, making a calming cup of tea before bed. “I didn’t know you two were–”

“We’re not,” Jeongguk interrupts him firmly, and Taehyung wonders if the sudden bitterness in his voice’d really been that audible. “It’s the first time I’ve spoken to her in like, a year.”

Pressing the lines of his teeth together, Taehyung dumps a huge spoon of honey into the mug. It’s fine. He doesn’t care that Jeongguk’s ex-wife – whom he’d been so in love with he’d asked her to marry him at age nineteen and of whom he still keeps a picture in his wallet – still has his number. Whatever.

“She told me journalists and reporters’ve been harassing her for a few days now. Like, they found out where she lives, and they’re waiting for her to – I don’t even know. Get the ins on our relationship, I guess, or ask her about her opinion – It’s fucking stupid.”

“That’s…” Taehyung stirs his drink with the spoon. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think it’s because, like…” There’s heavy rustling on Jeongguk’s end of the line. Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “Uh, sorry. Anyway. I think it’s because we’re – you and me, I mean – we’re like, public. And with her it was like… I mean I never made her a secret or anything, but you know, I told you she wasn’t into publicity – which I still think is completely fine! But yeah, just. I guess they think that’s one of the reasons why our marriage didn’t work out and they kinda wanna rub it into her face.” He pauses. “Or something like that.”

“That sounds messed up.”

Jeongguk sighs. “Mhm.”

Turning around, Taehyung leans his tailbone against the kitchen counter. He stares at his naked feet against the grey floor tiles. “So you just… talked about that?”

It’s such an ugly feeling, jealousy. Because that’s what it is, a hundred percent. And the fact that he is definitely feeling it only adds to general fear surrounding the true expanse of what his emotions for Jeongguk have grown to be.

“She didn’t really know what to do about it. They’re just… shouting nonsense at her. Shit like that,” Jeongguk says, still sounding aggravated. “I talked to my management and we’re gonna put out a statement about it. But I wanted to tell you so the whole thing doesn’t blindside you.”

“Oh.” Slowly, Taehyung bends his knees, sliding down along the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, thighs up to his chest. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Um, thanks.”

Jeongguk grunts. “I hope they don’t start asking you about her. They do that with me enough.”

Hugging his knees to his chest, Taehyung balances his chin on one of them. “That must be shitty. To be constantly asked about her, I mean.”

“I knew that would happen,” Jeongguk says. “I took almost all of last year off from playing, and when I got back into it earlier this year I expected reporters to probe about the whole thing. Which is exactly what they did. It’s annoying, but it doesn’t bother me that much at this point. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it.”

A small smile tugs on the corner of Taehyung’s mouth.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same for her. She’s not used to people being all up in her personal business. And it’s just… I don’t…” He stops, and he remains quiet for so long, Taehyung has to pull his phone away from his ear for a moment to check if the line has gone dead. “I don’t love her anymore, but I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or unsafe. Ever. And especially not because of me.”

And that’s when the jealousy inside of him fizzles away entirely. He’s too good – that’s what Jeongguk’s mother’d told Taehyung, and it’s not the first time that Taehyung’s noticing it, but it’s most evident now. Whatever wounds Jeongguk’s carried away from the divorce that are still healing – and it doesn’t take rocket science for Taehyung to understand he’s got quite a few of them, some deeper than others – he doesn’t allow them to hold him back from making sure a person who’s left a significant imprint on his life is cared for.

It’s not something Taehyung could say about himself.

They talk for a little while longer. Taehyung forgets all about his tea – but it’s okay, Jeongguk’s voice is just as calming.

***

August arrives in a thunderstorm. Obsidian clouds hang low over the city, every now and again split apart by a new strike of lighting. The rumble of thunder seems to linger perpetually in the streets, propelling pedestrians onward tirelessly.

The neckline of his t-shirt pulled over his head, Taehyung hurries from his taxi to the entrance to his agency’s building. The meeting coming up is his first appointment of the day, a spontaneous and quite frankly rude 8 AM addition to his already packed schedule.

He spins into the elevator, stomach grumbling, hair dripping, and clothes soaked. He pulls on the wet material of his shirt to keep it from sticking to his chest, but to no avail.

With a bright noise, he arrives at the floor of his agency. Office workers regard him with pitiful stares as he makes his way to the usual meeting room, undoubtedly leaving a trail of small puddles in his wake.

And of course – of fucking course – who’s waiting for him in the meeting room, dressed in all black, completely dry, with wide eyes?

Jeon fucking Jeongguk.

Because it’s just Taehyung’s luck that the first time meeting his crush in person after falling asleep to his voice essentially every night of the past week, he looks like a very sad, very wet poodle.

Six pairs of eyes are on him as he tries to act as if absolutely nothing’s off and closes the glass door behind him.

This lasts for about two seconds, and then a towel hits the side of his head. With a small, embarrassed voice, he thanks Jimin, who snorts. He dries off as best as possible before sinking down on the chair across from Jeongguk.

He meets his eyes briefly, and he instantly regrets it. Jeongguk’s taking him in from head to toe, and he’s got that zoned out expression plastered all over his face, eyes heavy and mouth slightly agape.

Taehyung sees Seokjin’s arm move hastily. There’s a slapping noise, and Jeongguk jumps in his seat. He tears his stare away from Taehyung’s chest where it had been burning a hole into his shirt and instead directs a hostile glare at his brother.

“Now that we’re all here,” Jimin says sharply, and Taehyung doesn’t have to look his way to know this is a direct jab at him. He pretends not to know why – 8:17 is basically 8 AM. “Let’s start with a simple question: How do you two feel about modelling together?” He gestures from Taehyung’s side of the table to the other.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, feigning obliviousness. “I’d love to do a shoot with Namjoon.”

“I’m obviously pointing at Jeongguk.”

“Me?” Jeongguk’s eyes eat up half his face, that’s how big they get.

Namjoon sends a short grin Taehyung’s way, mouthing “Appreciate it.” Taehyung shows him a quick thumbs up, before dutifully focusing on Jimin again.

“We got an email last night,” Hoseok chimes in. “Global brand. They want you two, Taehyung and Jeongguk, to be the faces of their campaign.”

Apart from Yoongi, everyone on Jeongguk’s team seems surprised. Taehyung also didn’t have a clue about this, but thinking about it, he should have seen it coming. Of course this is going to happen, they’re the couple in the public eye at the moment, after all.

“What brand?” he asks, stomach swooping. He feels Jeongguk’s intense gaze on him again.

“Calvin Klein.”

A wave of hysterical laughter presses against the back of Taehyung’s teeth, and it’s extremely difficult to keep quiet. Of course, sure, absolutely, no problem, a couple photoshoot for an underwear brand with Jeongguk – that’s no big deal.

“Hold on.” Seokjin holds his hands up and takes a moment to snort. “The world wants to see this one” He nods at his brother. “in his undies? No need for Calvin Klein, I can just ask our parents about pic– Ouch.”

With a tick in his jaw, Jeongguk pulls his arm back after sufficiently elbowing his brother in the ribs.

“Calvin Klein wants them to be the faces of their campaign,” Namjoon repeats. The corners of his mouth turn downward and his eyebrows jump up, impressed.

“The theme of it is Love,” Hoseok says, and it’s a little funny, how factual and analytical he pronounces it. “They’re planning to shoot with many different couples, but they’re still missing what they call the focus of it all.”

“Aka the celebrities that’ll make sure people’ll watch the ad over and over again,” Jimin explains.

Hoseok adds, “The campaign is scheduled to launch August 31st across all social media as well as on American tv during prime time.”

Whistling lowly, Namjoon falls back in his chair. Meanwhile Yoongi’s eyebrows disappear fully into his hairline like it’s the first time he’s hearing about this. He says, “Well, that’s gonna be tight.”

Jimin shrugs but doesn’t look him in the eye. Taehyung can only suspect he’s purposely left out just how short notice this deal is so Yoongi won’t shut it down right away. It makes sense. To Taehyung, it’s clear as day how important this is. Both the money and exposure the agency and he will gain from such an ad – it couldn’t be matched.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jeongguk chimes in, eyes still big as saucers. “I don’t know anything about modelling.”

Taehyung can’t help it, he huffs out a loud breath of annoyance. He rolls his eyes in a big semi circle until they land directly on Jeongguk. “Oh yeah, you’re gonna struggle sooo much with it.”

Frowning, Jeongguk crosses his arms in front of his chest. Warmth spreads in Taehyung’s chest as he realises they might not have left the bickering stage of their relationship entirely. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Taehyung can fire another sarcastic comment back, Jimin cuts him off, “What he means is that you’ll be fine because you’re hot.”

Stomach falling out of his ass, Taehyung shoots him a deathly glare of betrayal. He can feel his cheeks becoming a deep shade of red, and he sinks a little further down in his seat as he feels Jeongguk’s curious eyes jump from him to Jimin and back.

“I actually think this is a good idea,” Yoongi pipes up. “Even though it’s a little bit of a rush. With the whole situation with Aerin at hand” He regards Hoseok and Jimin with a look that suggests they’ve talked about the same thing Jeongguk and Taehyung have the night jealousy threatened to swallow Taehyung up whole. “I think this will be a great opportunity to make it clear that these two are the focus.”

“It’ll also get the very last person to know about their relationship,” Jimin adds. He’s got this tone now, smooth and honey sweet. It’s how he gets his way, always, and he knows it, too.

Inside Taehyung, his stomach rumbles in discomfort, but not from hunger. His mother’s words echo through his head again: Do you think it’s a good idea to parade around a new relationship?   Are you sure that’s not your new boyfriend’s doing?

With one big shrug, Seokjin leans so far back in his chair, it tips back onto its hind legs. He puffs up his cheeks and lets the air escape noisily before saying, “Look, do what you wanna do. All I’m saying is” He slides a knowing look Jeongguk’s way. “Ma’s gonna frame the pictures of this shoot and show them up and down the whole neighbourhood.”

Jeongguk looks alarmed. “Okay, no. I can’t do it.”

Sighing, Yoongi rolls his eyes. To Jimin, he says, “He’ll do it.”

“Hey!”

Completely unimpressed, Yoongi levels Jeongguk’s glare. “Do you really not wanna do it?”

Sinking back in his chair, Jeongguk looks defeated. If Taehyung isn’t mistaken, there’s a little bit of redness creeping up the side of his neck where the very last traces of Taehyung’s mouth are so barely visible now.

Everything in Taehyung itches to renew them.

“Thought so.” Yoongi nods Hoseok and Jimin’s way. “We’re gonna have to see how to fit this into the schedule. For both of them, I mean. I don’t know about Taehyung, but Jeongguk can’t sacrifice more than two days max for this.”

“Agreed,” Jimin says, and then the two of them are off to their own world of highly ambiguous business talk that somehow makes Taehyung want to blush just overhearing it.

Across the table, he meets Jeongguk’s eye once more.

They’re gonna do this.

And something in the way Jeongguk looks at him, starry gaze on him and only him, tells him there’ll be no coming back from it.

Chapter Text

@JJeonggukNews Calvin Klein’s official account has just followed Jeongguk on Instagram!

↳ @jellybelly7 oH MY GOD? 🆘🆘🆘

↳ @7forwin idk but that divorce was so good for this man lol look at him go we wouldve never gotten that with aerin still in the picture

↳ @idkudk WAIT DOES THIS MEAN–

↳@starbecca just saying but. they also followed taehyung 😗

↳ @hiyaa_caraa @starbecca screamiNGNJDFEZ&E/(EW(E?????

↳ @sophkith @starbecca AND WHAT IF THEY DO THE SHOOT TOGE– [GUNSHOTS]

↳ @sm0lfroggo @starbecca DUDE THEY ARE SO HOT PEOPLE (me) WILL DIE???

↳ @slowbloomd @starbecca guys um arent ck ads basically just soft porn in disguise djsfhdjhf

↳ @tigrguk @starbecca NOT ONLY ARE WE GETTING JEONGGUK SHIRTLESS WE’RE ALSO GETTING HIM KISSING HIS PRETTY BF WE!!! WIN!!!!!

 

“You alright?”

Taehyung snaps his gaze away from the screen of his phone. It takes him a moment to focus, eyes torn between zeroing in on Jeongguk’s face or on their tangled hands in the middle of the table between them where Jeongguk’s thumb is doing that thing again, the gentle caressing, as if he wants to commit the feel of Taehyung’s fingers intertwined with his to memory.

“I’m fine.” It doesn’t sound very convincing. Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek. He needs to have a serious conversation with user tigrguk, he did not need any assistance in getting his hopes up, he’s been managing on his own just fine, thank you very much.

They’re out on a lunch date today, Jeongguk and him, both for publicity reasons and also because Taehyung hadn’t been able to stand the thought of not seeing Jeongguk for even a day. It had been unnerving, sending the wanna get lunch together tomorrow text the night before and having to wait, bouncy leg, clammy hands and all, for Jeongguk’s reply.

And now Jeongguk’s sitting across from him in this adorable little Italian restaurant he’d chosen in a surprisingly quiet part of the city, one day before they’re due for a photoshoot in their underwear, and he’s holding his hand and tilting his head to the side, clearly unconvinced by Taehyung’s words.

And Taehyung just can’t. He can’t look at him, not like this. He looks criminally handsome today. That goes to say, more than usual. It’s actually not funny anymore, but Taehyung had felt a little bit like laughing out loud manically when he’d walked up to him waiting in front of the restaurant just a few minutes ago, because for some godforsaken reason Jeongguk had decided to put on skinny jeans for the day. Light-washed ones. With rips in the material at the knees. Because Taehyung’s well-being clearly means nothing to him.

But it’s fine, it’s cool, Taehyung is holding up perfectly well, because Jeongguk’s legs can look as sexy as they want if they’re hidden from sight under the table for the entirety of their date. Taehyung can just pretend they don’t exist, exactly, Jeongguk the footballer whose body ends below the line of his navel, yes.

Sadly this doesn’t fix the more pressing problem: his black shirt is unbuttoned down all the way to the middle of his chest. He clearly went for a double kill with this outfit, and what can Taehyung say – he struck both times.

“You sure you’re okay?” he’s asking now, eyebrows knit in concern, because of course he’s not only hot, he’s also sweet. “You kinda look like you’re overheating.”

Oh, Taehyung’s overheating alright. And it’s the stupid tweets’ fault. He’d been minding his own business, preparing to post a cute snapshot of their hands against the red-chequered tablecloth to his Instagram story, when Jimin sent him the link to the discussion thread accompanied by a very unserious cat’s out the bag it seems 🤪.

“I’m good, I’m just…” Cringing at how thin his own voice sounds, Taehyung switches tabs on his phone, staring at the picture of their joint hands for a second before turning it around so Jeongguk can look at it too. “This okay?”

“Since when do you ask me for my opinion?” Jeongguk’s gaze isn’t leaving Taehyung’s face for another moment, a playful twinkle in his eyes, but when he does eventually blink down to focus on the picture Taehyung’s showing him, his features smooth over, become all soft. His bottom lip twitches a couple times, but he remains quiet, eyes jumping between the snapshot and its real life equivalent, back and forth, back and forth, as if he’s only now realising he’s been holding Taehyung’s hand for the past five minutes or so.

“Are you–”

“Fine,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds strangely sharp and clipped. He clears his throat. His fingers squeeze around Taehyung’s hand. “It’s fine. You can post that, I mean. Tag me in it?”

Taehyung snorts. “In your dreams. No free promo, not even for my boyfriend. Sorry.”

When he tries to pull his hand back – quicker to operate a phone using both his thumbs – Jeongguk doesn’t let him. And he doesn’t fight it. It’s not like he tried very hard in the first place.

Huffing out a breath of annoyance – something in Taehyung is truly fucked up, because that noise alone, when coming from Jeongguk, is enough to make his stomach coil in heated anticipation – Jeongguk leans back in his chair. Just a little, just enough to get his phone out as well.

“What’re you doing?” Taehyung asks, putting his own down as soon as the post is sent off to his story. Jeongguk’s swiping about on his screen, and then he’s holding the camera up, aiming it at Taehyung.

“Making my own couple content,” he says, and – is he for real sticking his tongue out at Taehyung right now? “Duh. Now smile, darling.”

As he rolls his eyes, Taehyung already feels fondness rising from that spot where it originates in his chest into his cheeks, warming them even more and pulling the corners of his mouth up in the process. He adjusts his fingers where they are intertwined with Jeongguk’s, gets his elbow up on the table, puts a bit more of his weight on it so his shoulder juts up a little, creating more angles in his form for the viewer to catch on. Leaning to the side, he brings his head in the exact right position, chin down, relaxed jaw, easy smile.

He’s focused. It’s his job, he has to look good.

And apparently Jeongguk’s determined to mess it up.

He pulls on Taehyung’s hand, lifts it up with his own, and before Taehyung can react, do something, stop him, he presses a kiss to his knuckles. Featherlight. Close to the tips of his fingers.

And there’s just nothing Taehyung can do. It’s not the first time Jeongguk’s doing this, but Taehyung’s eyes snap to his face immediately nonetheless, only to catch the absolute sincerity in his gaze, and Taehyung feels so warm, so giddy, so light all of a sudden, and all that carries over to his expression, he feels it, cheeks bunching up around a wide smile, eyes closing a little more, eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

That’s when Jeongguk takes the picture.

After, he doesn’t let go of Taehyung’s hand, but he lowers it back down to rest comfortably on the table top.

Feeling a little limp, Taehyung follows their movements, watches as Jeongguk sneaks their fingers back together. It looks like they belong exactly like this. The smile on his face has wavered a bit, faded into something more calm and possibly a little astounded.

“You’re pretty.” The words, as quiet as they are, knock the wind out of Taehyung’s lungs. Jeongguk speaks with such earnestness, like he’s got nothing to gain or lose from complimenting him. The phone gets turned around between them, and Taehyung recognises his own face on the screen, all open, all vulnerable. “And you’re even prettier when you’re being real.”

What the fuck are they doing here? It just seems so silly to Taehyung, suddenly, that they’re here, in a public place, trying to give the freaking press something new to write about, when their media presence is truly the last thing he cares about right now.

He needs Jeongguk to kiss him so bad. To whisper honey sweet nothings directly against his lips. To feel his hands all over him, fingerprints on his back, his neck, his heart.

As if on cue, a waiter arrives at their little table for two close by the window and hands them cream-coloured cardstock menus before placing their drink orders between them. They’re both between appointments right now, and Taehyung has another shoot to get to right after this, and while this whole food restriction thing a lot of his colleagues get into doesn’t interest him in the slightest, he is smart enough not to order something that’ll only leave him feeling tired and bloated.

Hands are kept at opposite ends of the table for the time it takes to choose their food, but Taehyung catches Jeongguk’s gaze fleeting away every time he pauses to glance up. He smiles into his menu.

“So,” Jeongguk says once they’ve both ordered their pasta dishes of choice. “What are you doing after this?”

Balancing his chin in the palm of his free hand, Taehyung blinks at him innocently. “Why? Scared you’re gonna miss me?”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows at him, head and shoulders bobbing lightly from the barely audible snort he lets out. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I'm gonna be yearning for your big mouth so bad.”

“Mhm, knew you had a thing for my mouth, Jeon.”

“A thing where I wanna stuff it full so it stops talking.”

With a low chuckle, Taehyung crooks his fingers so the tips of them are resting against his bottom lip. The way Jeongguk’s eyes don’t miss a beat before dropping down his face sends a tingling wave of satisfaction through him. “Yeah?” he asks, letting his eyelashes flutter purposely. He pushes his pinky just barely past his lips, feels the tip of his nail graze over his bottom front teeth. “Stuff it with what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Mhm.” Taehyung drops his voice into a low, breathy drawl, pushing his finger further into his mouth. “Don’t be so shy. Tell me.”

Jeongguk fixates him for a long moment. There aren't many people in the restaurant apart from them, but it astounds Taehyung that the few that are there don't take note of the building tension between them that leaves the air so charged, it makes the hairs on Taehyung's arms stand up.

“Okay, you need to behave,” Jeongguk tells him, tone quiet but dangerous, just like his gaze.

It's intriguing; another challenge offered up on a silver platter, and everything in Taehyung wants to find out how far he could push it. Find out what Jeongguk's breaking point is. What it looks like. What he might do once Taehyung breaches that ever thinning line between them.

It looks like Jeongguk has to visibly snap himself out of the gravitational pull of the flaring up allure between them. He leans back in his chair, and the remaining buttons of his shirt strain ever so slightly with his next inhale. “Just answer the question.”

Taehyung pulls his pinky out of his mouth with a small wet pop that makes Jeongguk roll his eyes. He won’t admit it out loud, but maybe Jeongguk’s got a point cutting their flirting short, what with the packed rest of the day ahead.

“Shoot with Choi Nana for Harper’s BAZAAR,” he says, trying to keep the grin insistent to take over his face at bay. It’s just so awesome, is all. Finally, his commitment and hard work are getting him places.

“That’s amazing.”

At the squeeze of his hand, Taehyung looks up. Jeongguk’s smiling softly at him, and there’s something in his eyes that looks so akin to pride and happiness that he feels for him that it makes Taehyung’s head spin. It loosens something in him. He feels his chest inflating just a bit, and the joy spreads over his features, and before he knows better he’s already rambling.

“I never thought I’d be shooting with her. She's like, widely famous when it comes to editorials. Like, she's done shoots with so many celebrities whose faces you know by heart already but she manages to capture them in a completely new light, and it's just..." He gestures with his free hand. Feels Jeongguk's thumb smooth over the knuckles of the other. "The plan is to shoot from golden hour to sunset, and they've rented out the rooftop of a highrise downtown and... ahhhh."

He can’t help but let out a mini scream. It’s not like he’s actually being loud, it’s just that he’s been too booked and busy these past weeks to allow himself to properly think about the speed with which his career is accelerating at the moment, and he can’t quite believe it all.

Jeongguk’s shoulders shake a little with the low chuckle he lets out. And it’s dangerous, it’s really dangerous, how safe Taehyung already feels around him. He knows Jeongguk’s tells now, knows the way his brows raise in annoyance and the corners of his mouth dip downwards, and he doesn’t spot any of it. He's truly, genuinely interested in what Taehyung’s telling him, and – this isn’t going to end well.

But Taehyung can’t stop. He hadn’t been able to save himself from falling ever since he first stumbled.

As they wait for their food, Jeongguk asks him to show him pictures of other shoots the famous photographer has done, and then it’s Taehyung’s turn to hang on to his every word, because he can truly see it now, right in front of him, Jeongguk, sweet, caring, honest Jeongguk, who is too good for this world, going on and on about something he’s passionate about. He talks about photography like he talks about football, and it reminds Taehyung once again that they aren’t so different from one another: both set on chasing their dreams no matter what.

Their food arrives, and that’s the first time they let go of each other’s hands.

“What about you?” Taehyung asks as he spins spaghetti around the tines of his fork. “What are you up to today?”

“You mean besides taking my beautiful better half out for lunch?”

It’s so seamless, so smooth, yet it leaves Taehyung reeling nonetheless. It doesn't escape him, that Jeongguk calls him what he jokingly used to refer to himself back in their earliest text messages to one another, but it sounds so much sweeter, so much better when he says it.

Heart thumping against his ribcage, Taehyung narrows his eyes for a split second. He ignores his pasta for a moment longer to give his swooping stomach time to calm down. "Oh, so you're paying. Glad that's settled."

"You asked me out."

A blush creeps up Taehyung’s cheeks. He could really do without being reminded of how nervous he’d felt about this. "You just said you're taking me out."

Jeongguk grunts. "And I meant for lunch, but now that I think about it,” he points his unused fork in Taehyung’s direction, “the other meaning of that sentence might actually suit my mood more."

“How exciting,” Taehyung shoots back nonchalantly. “I must admit I don’t have any experience with… fork play.”

“Now that surprises me.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung raises his voice into a whine, dragging each of his next words out to unnecessary lengths, “Just answer the question.”

“Fuck off, I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, you do, you should hear yourself.”

He earns a glare for that. Jeongguk’s head falls a little to the side and it’s truly amazing to Taehyung how sharp his eyes can get all of a sudden, how he can feel his gaze caressing over his skin like razor blades, ready to cut right through him any second.

And then he cracks a smile. And that’s somehow even better. The way his entire face lights up again, the slight scrunch of his nose, and then he’s all teeth, eyes closed, goofy, adorable grin out at full force, and it’s taking Taehyung’s heart by storm, waltzes down yet another one of his walls, and amplifies the warmth in his chest.

Taehyung grins as well, finally dumping the forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“Namjoon’s making us do one of those obstacle courses this afternoon,” Jeongguk says after he’s pushed his pasta from left to right on his plate. “You know, climbing and stuff like that. As a team building exercise.”

“You sound super thrilled about that.”

Shrugging, Jeongguk finally takes to his noodles.

“Is it still because of that, um.” Taehyung’s foot bobs up and down under the table, anxious. “I mean. Because of what happened in Tokyo?”

There’s a tick in Jeongguk’s jaw that’s not caused by his chewing. His eyes quickly scan the restaurant for possible eavesdroppers, and then he says in a low voice, “Because Doyul and Jinu are assholes, yes.”

Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek, thinking back to the moment in the hotel hallway a few weeks ago. Sure, what Jeongguk’s teammates implied wasn’t nice, but really, it’s nothing new, and if the phone call Taehyung had with his mother the following morning is anything to go by, it is at least a little bit true. The thing that truly bothers him is the fact that it seems to remain a point of conflict within Jeongguk’s team.

“If it’s because of the things I said–”

“It’s because of the things they said, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “It’s just…”

It’s just that Taehyung’s always the problem. He’s used to it. Taking the blame one more time won’t hurt. And maybe he should’ve just taken the blow, swallow it with no reaction, add it to the growing, rotting shitpile of doubt inside of him.

“No,” Jeongguk says firmly. “I’m not letting them talk to or about you like that.”

A wave of tenderness washes through Taehyung from head to toe. It wakes up the butterflies who are barely staying dormant these days.

But still. 

Nudging his foot carefully against Jeongguk’s under the table, he says, “I can take care of myself.”

Jeongguk nudges back, just as careful. “I know.”

“You don’t have to defend my honour.”

There’s no time for Jeongguk to waver; he replies immediately. “What if I want to, though?”

God, Taehyung just really wants to – hold his hand. Bury his face in the crook of his neck and inhale the addicting honeysuckle smell. Kiss him on the cheek, the nose – the mouth.

“You’re sweet,” he says, because he can’t not be honest in that moment. And just seeing how much ease these words bring to Jeongguk’s features is sending him for another loop. “Thank you.”

With a very faint dusting of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks, Jeongguk averts his eyes. He’s inspecting his noodles critically, still only pushing them around on his plate instead of eating.

“Is it really that bad?” Taehyung pushes his foot between Jeongguk’s, and since their table is pretty small, they end up with more or less intertwined legs.

At first, all he gets is a shrug. By this point, Taehyung’s gathered that talking about his emotions isn’t Jeongguk’s favourite thing to do, and that’s fine, Taehyung, of all people, gets it, but still, he grants him a little more time before he considers changing the subject.

And maybe that’s all Jeongguk needs.

“I guess it is,” he says. “I don’t know, I’m down to ignore what happened between all of us for as long as we’re on the playing field, but apparently they aren’t. Jinu is on this weird ego trip where he apparently forgot how to pass on the ball, and that made our team give up so many goal opportunities.” He sighs. “So now Namjoon’s taking turns benching him and me, and it’s honestly just… a circus.”

“Do you think this whole team building exercise today will help with that?”

“If he stops being a child and apologises, sure.” Jeongguk pushes his bottom lip out just a bit, and his expression, while clearly annoyed and indignant, is so adorable, Taehyung kind of wants to pinch his cheeks. Is this how he looked back when they were teenagers as well – pouty and wide-eyed and cute?

“Look,” Taehyung says, because as much as his heart is fluttering in his chest, he doesn’t actually want Jeongguk to hold a grudge that could potentially cost his team the top spot in the League 1 table. “I appreciate this, I really do, but you don’t have to fight my battles, Jeongguk, it’s not–”

“I want to,” Jeongguk interrupts him. “That’s what boyfr– That’s what I do. He doesn’t get to say shit about you and get away with it. He doesn’t have the right to talk like this about anyone, least of all the people close to me who are precisely none of his business.”

His cheeks and ears are properly red now. It’s such a strong contrast to the irritation etched into every one of his features the first time they sat across from each other in a restaurant, and Taehyung can’t help but wonder when they got from there to here, when all this affection and fondness sneaked into him, filled him up to the brim so now he’s almost overflowing with it.

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never had someone stick up for him the way Jeongguk does. It’s a weird feeling; a swirling mixture of delight, relief, and just a tinge of guilt that winds around his heart and squeezes once, hard.

“Aerin’s asked me over for dinner.”

Suddenly released from the tendril of warmth, Taehyung’s heart drops and crashes into his stomach. There it is again, that sharp pang of jealousy slicing right through him. It’s a little funny how quickly it resurfaces after he’s pushed it down time and time again whenever Jeongguk updated him about the two of them rehashing their contact over the course of the past few weeks.

He’s not stupid. He understands their talking and phone calls had been a necessity for damage control – Taehyung knows what kind of articles the press comes out with about Jeongguk’s ex-wife, and he’s seen the way netizens talk about her.

It’s not nice.

It sucks.

It’s just that – dinner is not necessary, now is it.

“Tonight, um. At hers. You know, we've been taking so many legal actions and dealing with what the media is putting her through, and I guess what we're doing is working, and she just... wants to thank me and catch up, I suppose."

Taehyung hums around a particularly loaded fork of pasta. The bitterness inside him provides a neat little mental slideshow of ideas of how she might want to thank Jeongguk.

Which is just wonderful. Absolutely what Taehyung needs right now.

Jeongguk cuts him a weird look, head tilted sideways, eyes narrowed.

Chewing, Taehyung stares back. But he can already feel the resignation bubbling up inside him betray the signature aloofness on his face.

It’s so dumb. He’s been over this. There’s no reason to be jealous. Jeongguk is caring and good, he knows that, he gets to feel the extent of it almost every day – it’s just that he can’t say the same about Aerin. He doesn’t know her and her true intentions.

Yet on the other hand, Jeongguk is a grown man who can make his own decisions. As much as Taehyung has come to wish for it, he’s not occupying a space important enough in Jeongguk’s life to get a say on a matter like this.

And there’s still the memory of that stupid polaroid in Jeongguk’s wallet.

“Taehyu–”

“Are you nervous about the shoot tomorrow?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“Because you’re throwing yourself headfirst into everything right now.” Taehyung wiggles his leg that is still trapped between Jeongguk’s, hoping to get his point across. He gestures vaguely between them. “Also, you haven’t touched your food like, at all.”

As if he hadn’t noticed before, Jeongguk’s gaze follows the direction Taehyung’s pointing in. His mouth falls open the tiniest bit when he realises Taehyung’s right, he has indeed not taken a single bite of his pasta yet.

“I just mean.” The words are stumbling out of Taehyung. He feels slightly overwhelmed with the nasty feeling inside of him, and he’s not quite sure how to get rid of it, because it’s not like Jeongguk’s actually done anything wrong. And maybe that’s exactly the problem – that he’s trying to do everything right. “I don’t expect anything from you. We’re just going to do that shoot and move on, it doesn’t have to be this big thing looming over us.”

He’s too good, Jeongguk’s mother’s words echo through his head again, and sometimes people take advantage of that.

“You can eat. You can let your teammates say whatever crap they wanna say about me. You…” Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shrugs, as if he doesn’t exactly know how to conclude his little speech. “You don’t have to be the one to make everything right.”

For a moment, all Jeongguk does is stare at him with this completely stunned expression on his face. It makes Taehyung feel slightly uncomfortable and fidgety in his seat, and he tries to squirm back, pull his leg away to bring some physical distance between them – but Jeongguk doesn’t let him.

“I am nervous,” he says quietly. Ducking his head a little, he adds, “I swear, World Cup semi-finals are nothing against this.”

With a clink, Taehyung puts his fork down. He feels the corners of his mouth twitch. “You didn’t seem nervous at the World Cup at all.”

Jeongguk’s eyes jump back up at this, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe the expression on Taehyung’s face is enough, tells him that he’s definitely guilty of marathoning compilations of the best moments of Jeongguk’s career on Youtube.

Whatever, that’s part of his job, okay. He’s gotta know what kind of player his boyfriend is beyond the two games he’s actually watched. He’s been ogling him, jogging after a ball, all sweaty, muscles in his legs moving under his shorts for science, if you will.

It’s quiet between them for a while. The unpleasantness inside Taehyung is subsiding gradually, but don’t get him wrong, he’s still not a fan of Jeongguk rekindling contact with his ex.

Placing an elbow on the tabletop, Jeongguk rubs his hand from his forehead down his face once. He lets out a long breath of air before he finds Taehyung’s eyes again. “I just don’t like to disappoint people.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” Taehyung is quick to say, but lying to Jeongguk doesn’t feel very good, so he backtracks immediately. “Well, what I mean is you’re not disappointing me. I think sometimes you gotta let people down in life so you can keep functioning. And you really don’t have to do it all, Jeongguk. I know that you could, but you don’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s gaze on him is soft, so soft that it makes Taehyung reach his hand over the table so that he can gently skim his fingers down the side of his face. When he’s about to pull away, Jeongguk stops him, and he’s so quick to lace their hands together once again, Taehyung couldn’t protest if he wanted to.

Which he doesn’t. Not at all. Holding Jeongguk’s hand has quickly seized the top of the list of things Taehyung likes to do in his freetime.

“I’d like to catch up with Aerin,” he says, voice as soft as the look in his eyes. “I think she will always be someone I care about, you know. And I think closure on a relationship… I don’t know, maybe that could be good.”

He catches Taehyung’s gaze, and once again Taehyung wonders just how transparent to Jeongguk he’s become, because the next thing he says is an antidote for the acidic jealousy sloshing around violently inside of him.

“I’m never going to be in love with her again, Taehyung.”

A quiet whisper inside Taehyung tells him the fact they’re having this kind of conversation should give them enough of a clue about the true state of their relationship, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He’s too busy getting lost in Jeongguk’s eyes.

“I’m done having unresolved tensions in my life.”

The way he says it… Taehyung’s not sure he’s only talking about his ex anymore.

Jeongguk swipes the pad of his thumb over the back of his hand once. “I didn’t mean to tell you about this to… I don’t know, I just like to hear what you think, I guess. I like telling you things.”

Taehyung acts before he can think. He pulls on their joint hands, drags them all the way across the table before lifting them to his mouth. He presses the most careful of kisses against Jeongguk’s tattooed knuckles, and he feels strangely open and vulnerable all of a sudden as he realises this – this is trust. Jeongguk trusts him in the same way he trusts Jeongguk.

He can be real here. He’s not going to get dismissed or frowned at or cut short.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to meet her,” he says, and then, because he’s indulgent and tolerant and nice, he adds, “Tonight.”

Jeongguk’s mouth pulls into a lopsided grin, but his gaze is still focused on his hand so close to Taehyung’s lips.

“I’m not saying this because I’m je– I don’t want to manipulate you or anything. I understand why it might be important for you guys to catch up. If that’s something you both want,” he elaborates, a little more conciliatory. It’s true, he understands it now – doesn’t mean he particularly likes it. “But I don’t think you should do that at the end of a busy day with the prospect of another, even busier day ahead. You said you’re nervous, so you should rest. Distract yourself with something mindless, something you like.”

“Like calling you?”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat and jumps up into his throat. Ever so slightly, he shakes his head. It’s less to say no and more a gesture to calm himself back down. “That’d make sure we both don’t get any sleep.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, you do,” Taehyung tells him. He has to put up at least a little bit of a fight, otherwise he’s going to go absolutely insane right here and now. “Commercial shoots are one hell of a lot of work. You need all the rest you can get.”

Jeongguk curls his mouth to the side. “Fine.”

“But.” Taehyung shrugs. “You can still text me how that whole obstacle course went. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you tell me you pushed Jinu off some swingset or something.”

At that, Jeongguk cracks another of his wide grins. He looks lighter, somehow, as if a burden he’d been carrying on his shoulders has been lifted. With his free hand, he picks up his fork. Before he dumps his first bite of pasta into his mouth, he says impishly, “I would never do such a thing.”

Taehyung returns his grin. “No, of course not.”

***

In the end, Taehyung gets no sleep.

It’s not Jeongguk’s fault, no, he sends him a picture of the sun disappearing behind Seoul’s highrises in front of his living room window, naked feet stretched out on the couch and a crooked peace sign in the frame as well, when Taehyung’s changing from one outfit into another, foreign hands tugging, pushing, adjusting every little fold clinging to his body. 

Intensely relieved Jeongguk decided to postpone his dinner date with Aerin after all, Taehyung shoots back a quick omg fresh jeon jeongguk feet pics im gonna be a millionaire before diving into the homestretch of his shoot for Harper’s BAZAAR with newly regained vigour.

No, it’s not Jeongguk’s fault. Taehyung spends the whole taxi ride home chatting back and forth with him and he feels proud when Jeongguk tells him he feels a lot calmer and ready for tomorrow, and then Jeongguk sends him a good night text and he calls him darling again and dammit he’s already in his neighbourhood, too late to give the driver a change of directions now.

It’s not Jeongguk’s fault.

It’s Taehyung’s stupid ex-hook-up’s fault.

He should’ve expected it. It’s been a good three weeks since he last transferred hush money to Eunchan’s bank account; the guy had been suspiciously quiet for too long. And now he’s leaning against the door of Taehyung’s flat like he has any right to be here at all, and Taehyung vows to himself to save every penny he doesn’t owe his ex in order to quickly afford a place with a security guard watching the door of the building.

All the warmth and comfort puffing up his chest fizzle right out of him when he spots the unwanted visitor. For a second, he considers turning on his heel and booking a ride to Jimin’s place in hope for shelter.

But that would lead to questions. And he can’t admit that his career – his fragile little idea of success that only recently started taking recognisable shape – is nothing but a puppet hanging by a wafer-thin thread.

One wrong word and he’s a fraud. A liar. A cheater.

A pathetic, dirty little sl–

“What do you want?”

“Hey now.” Eunchan makes no attempt to shift his body away from blocking the entrance to Taehyung’s flat. “Is that how you talk to your friends?”

“Oh sorry,” Taehyung says with a dry scoff. He gets that he has to watch what he says, but he can’t help a little sarcasm. “I didn’t know we were friends. The whole blackmail thing threw me off. Forgive me.”

A laugh spreads across the bottom half of Eunchan’s face, but it’s hollow and doesn’t reach his eyes, which are never losing their focus on Taehyung. He has a scar just above his left brow, and Taehyung remembers thinking it looked so hot just a few months ago – now all he wants to do is add another one right next to it.

“Oh oh, someone’s cranky tonight,” Eunchan mocks, lifting his hand to flick Taehyung’s chin lightly. When Taehyung flinches away, all he does is chuckle lowly. “You sure are lucky you’re sexy frowning like that.”

Taehyung bites his tongue so the onslaught of insults pressing against the back of his teeth doesn’t come pouring out of him at once. He takes in a long, calming breath through his nose. “What,” he asks, snapping the T-sound for emphasis, “do you want?”

“Relax, baby.” Eunchan stretches his hand out a little further, the tip of his finger so close to brushing a stray curl away from Taehyung’s forehead, and Taehyung is ready to scream and punch and kick – he doesn’t care anymore. His aversion must be written all over his face; Eunchan’s grin only grows wider when his eyes drop from his furrowed brows to his clenched fist. “If I were you I’d think very carefully about this.”

Involuntarily, Taehyung unclenches his fingers. He tries his best to ignore the discomfort originating from the spot at his temple where Eunchan is touching him. It’s not a nice feeling, having all power and control ripped away from him like this without his consent.

“Good.” Eunchan nods his encouragement when he notices Taehyung’s slightly relaxed stance. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just here to remind you about our deal. We haven’t seen each other in so long. Would be a pity if I missed my chance in case you wanted to negotiate. You know you have options, right?”

Despite not having eaten for hours, Taehyung’s stomach weighs down heavily on his guts. Quickly, he throws a scrutinising look down the hallway. None of his neighbours are out and about at this time of night, but you never know, sometimes closed doors have eyes and ears.

Without another word, he steps closer to Eunchan, shoving him to the side with his shoulder against his chest, and unlocks the door to his flat. He feels five fingers pressed to his back, just barely above his tailbone, when he steps inside.

Once the door is closed, he whirls around. Just like last time, he isn’t too keen on allowing his ex further into his space than absolutely necessary. Which is difficult, because – while this place has more than enough room for one person to live in with its two bedrooms and spacious living area – they are essentially sitting on the couch right after walking in through the front door.

“How much do you want this time?”

“Not wasting your breath, I see.”

Taehyung ignores this. “Or have you made up your mind about a deadline for the remaining money I owe– The remaining money you want from me.”

“Remaining money?” Eunchan laughs pityingly. He’s pacing around the entrance area of the apartment, eyes never leaving Taehyung, like he’s a predator ready to jump. “Oh baby, you haven’t even scratched that sum yet. You know how it is.” He stops. Steps closer to Taehyung. Grabs his chin. Says softly, “As your value increases so does the interest rate.”

It takes everything inside Taehyung not to push him away. He wants to, he does, but he has to be careful. “You said if I give you one-fifty million you’ll leave me alone.”

“I did say that.” Eunchan nods. His fingers loosen around Taehyung’s chin, but he doesn’t take them away altogether. “I never said what would happen if you didn’t pay all of it in one go.”

Taehyung can’t move. He stays rooted to the spot, watches with a hateful glare as delight takes over Eunchan’s face.

“What, that wasn’t clear?” His thumb pushes up over the bottom half of Taehyung’s face until it’s pressing into his bottom lip. “Ah, that’s okay. I understand. You’re lucky, though. You’ve got the looks to make up for the lack of brains.”

Biting his finger off surely isn’t the smartest move to handle the situation, but the impulse is so strong, Taehyung almost throws all caution out the window and goes for it. Almost. There’s anger and frustration and shame flaring up inside him, but he keeps it down, channels it instead into the grind of his teeth.

The only thing that keeps him grounded is the fact that he knows Eunchan is purposely hitting him where it hurts. It’s not petty yet playful as it is when Jeongguk’s trying to push his buttons – no, Eunchan wants to break him.

And Taehyung isn’t going to let that happen.

“Look at you, all dolled up like this.” Eunchan’s eyes flit up and down his face. He lowers his thumb a little bit, dragging Taehyung's lip down so the bottom row of his teeth is partly exposed. "All this fuss for him? Sorry to break it to you, but he didn't do you right if you still look this intact.”

The words don’t get through to him, not fully. But they stick to his skin like a murky film of grease, weighing him down. This – being spoken to like he’s nothing but an object, a piece of meat, no feelings, no judgement of his own, nothing going for him except his appearance – it makes him feel disgusting, nasty, like he’s somehow less of a person.

Eunchan’s hand slips to the side of his face and cups his jaw. It’s a gentle touch, Taehyung doesn’t feel any physical pain at all, but his next words still feel like another blow. “Want me to demonstrate how it’s done properly?”

“Fuck off.” There’s surprisingly little resistance when Taehyung winds his head out of Eunchan’s hold. Even though all he wants is to bring as much distance between them as possible, he fights the urge to step back and give Eunchan the satisfaction of backing him up against the sofa in his own flat once again.

“Shhh, uh-uh,” Eunchan says, as if he’s trying to calm down a child. His hand is ghosting over Taehyung’s shoulder and down his upper arm, naked past the sleeve of his CELINE t-shirt. 

It feels awful.

“How about I’ll cut you a new deal?” Eunchan is so close their chests are almost touching. “Let you pay your debt with something other than money.” His hand wraps around Taehyung’s waist. The firmness of his grip creases the material of his shirt, pulls it out of where it’s tucked into his pants. “Something more accessible to you.”

To his own shock, Taehyung finds himself unable to move. There are several alarm bells going off inside his head. His thoughts are racing. He has to get out of this situation. He’s scared of the ways this might end. He has to put up a fight. He has to say no. He’s afraid he can’t say no.

Eunchan’s hand slips fully under his shirt. He leans closer. “I promise I’ll be generous.”

Keeping his face turned away, Taehyung grabs his wrist and pushes his hand off. “Do not,” he says, locating the position of their feet and noticing with delight he could very easily step on Eunchan’s if he was prompted into it, “touch me.”

For a few seconds, as if he’s granting him time to row back, Eunchan just stares at him. Then one corner of his mouth quirks up and he takes his hands away, holds them up next to his head like a defeated criminal. “Fine. Not ready to make the sensible decision, I see.”

There’s a brief, ugly flicker of doubt zipping through Taehyung. Is he making this into a bigger scene than it needs to be? Isn’t it easier to just give in? It’s just sex, isn’t it? That’s all people ever want from him anyway, that’s what’s getting him all the attention, all the likes, the fame – what’s one more?

But he can’t. He can’t pretend, can’t lie to himself. Jeongguk’s voice is in his head, telling him he’s prettier when he’s being real, and suddenly he doesn’t give a fuck about the pretty part anymore, only cares about being real.

“Get out of here,” he hisses, “or I’m calling the police.”

Lowering his hands, Eunchan scoffs. “No, you won’t.”

No, he’s right, he won’t.

Taehyung scrambles for the phone in the pocket of his jeans. He’s bluffing, sure, but the way Eunchan’s face falls instantly tells him that at least it’s working.

“I want everything you’re making from that Calvin Klein shoot,” he bites. When he sees the caught expression on Taehyung’s face, he adds triumphantly, “It’s true, isn’t it? I’ve seen the rumours. You’re gonna whore it up with your new guy and people will eat that shit up. And I’ll make sure you’re gaining nothing from it all.”

Taehyung’s hand curls tighter around his phone, knuckles white.

“Of course this still doesn’t cover any of the one-hundred-fifty million you still owe me.”

Grinding his teeth, Taehyung mentally directs every insult, every curse he’s ever learned in his entire life – plus some truly unique neologisms – at the man across from him.

With one swift move, Eunchan drags Taehyung’s hand clasping his phone down by the wrist and holds it still. It brings him unbearably close again, keeps Taehyung rooted to the spot.

“If you wanna change your mind, now’s the time,” he says in that low, suggestive voice that once used to work on Taehyung. His hand is tight like a vise around Taehyung’s wrist. “Get down on your knees, make up for the drama you caused tonight, and see where that takes us.”

“I would rather die.”

A cold chuckle hits the skin of his cheek. “You’ll come around, baby.”

Moving his head, Taehyung meets Eunchan’s eyes dead on. With a glare, he growls, “Out.”

Infuriatingly, Eunchan stays exactly where he is for one, two, three more beats, not moving an inch. And then he has the audacity to grin again, wide and carefree and easy. 

“Whatever you say, pretty.” He lets go of Taehyung’s wrist and takes a slow step backwards. “I advise you to make sure I see every penny made from this shoot on my bank account or it’ll be the first and last big thing you do.”

Taehyung presses his lips together into a fine line. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, if the anticipation of Eunchan finally leaving and all the adrenaline rushing out of him at once is making it seem that way, but it feels like his forearm is hurting.

“You’re gonna realise it doesn’t have to be this complicated.”

“Leave.”

“Alright, alright.” Eunchan continues to back away towards the front door of Taehyung’s apartment. “Good night, baby.”

The door falls shut a few moments later, but Taehyung stays right where he is. His eyes are fixed on the spot Eunchan just disappeared from. A dull ache is swelling up from the back of his head to his temples. Shivers run down his spine, making him tremble. A beehive of thoughts is buzzing inside his brain.

He feels dirty. Metaphorically, figuratively, literally, all of it.

He needs to wash it off. Metaphorically, figuratively, literally, all of it.

Rubbing his wrist, he finally moves. 

The front door gets locked twice, and then he’s off to the bathroom, tearing his clothes off his body and stepping under the scalding spray of water. Sadly, it doesn’t rinse away his problems, and the steam makes it hard to breathe, and then, before he knows better, he’s crying.

It’s so pathetic and silly that he stops himself midway through. It hasn’t caught up to him yet, how he got himself tangled up in such a massive, shitty mess, but he’s here now. He made his bed, now he has to lie in it too.

When he crawls into bed a half hour later, sleep is nowhere near the realm of possibility. He tries for a while, but it's futile. Every attempt at meditation or distraction eventually leads him to another spiral of how utterly fucked up his current situation is.

So, doom-scrolling it is. Because that’s guaranteed to help with anxiety, right?

Rolling onto his side, he grabs his phone from the nightstand. For a minute, he toys with the idea of texting Jeongguk, just because, just because he also likes telling him things. But it’s long past midnight, and he doesn’t know if Jeongguk keeps his phone on silent mode during the night, and the last thing he wants is to worry him before their important shoot tomorrow.

So he taps his way to Instagram instead. And oh, the irony: the light green circle around Jeongguk’s profile picture is there to greet him up front.

Pretending not to be greedy, Taehyung jams his thumb down on it. He’s a bit too forceful, his phone almost slipping out the palm of his hand. But he saves it, quickly hoists it back up to stare at the story post.

It’s a video of Jeongguk’s bedroom ceiling. The lights of the mood lamp are a dancing mix of blue and purple. There’s music playing, a rhythmic, melodic tune. And then it calms down some, the lyrics standing out: your lips, my lips – apocalypse

Taehyung falls asleep watching that video.

***

Taehyung
good morning

Jiminie
oh god how nervous are you

Taehyung
haha what

Jiminie
you never text this formally

Taehyung
i said good morning????

Jiminie
exactly

Taehyung
fine
jeongguks gonna pick me up in two minutes 
and i feel like im gonna throw up the breakfast 
i havent eaten bc i lowkey overslept

Jiminie
of all days you oversleep on the day of THE calvin klein shoot

Taehyung
:( im exhausted

Jiminie
boohoo

Taehyung
:(

Jiminie
aw poor baby

Taehyung
:) 

Taehyung
i may have been up too late
watching jeongguks insta story
like what does it MEAN

Jiminie
🙄

Jiminie
wait. he has no story??

Taehyung
yeah he does??

Taehyung
oh it’s close friends whoops

Jiminie
yoongi also can’t see it

Taehyung
i.
DID YOU REALLY JUST ASK YOONGI 
TO STALK JEONGGUKS ACCOUNT
INSTEAD OF ME

Jiminie
🫥
I’M JUST A BOY LOOKING FOR EXCUSES 
TO TALK TO A VERY HOT DUDE OK

Taehyung
istg
at least you can admit it

Jiminie
yeah i’m better than you

Taehyung
.
ok hes here brb

Taehyung
JIMIN HE GOT ME A MUFFIN
A BLUEBERRY MUFFIN
with white chocolate chunks
:((((((((

Jiminie
my GOD can you two just stop the foreplay
and kiss already i'm so tired

Taehyung
im 🥺
his hand is on my knee HAHA.

Jiminie
are you really narrating your entire morning to me rn

Taehyung
i AM the main character
and i mean. are you busy?

Jiminie
no. continue

Jiminie
or don’t??

Jiminie
damn ok enjoy your muffin and your man i guess 😐

“You okay?”

Taehyung locks his phone just in time to fully witness Jeongguk’s right hand smoothing up his thigh before he pulls away. The car gives a bright little noise and automatically turns down the volume of the music sounding from the speakers when he pushes the gear into reverse.

Fumbling with the wrapper the muffin came in, Taehyung does his very best to ignore Jeongguk’s bicep next to his head as Jeongguk presses a hand flat to the back of the passenger seat to back the car into a vacant spot in the parking garage beneath the apartment building they’ll be shooting in.

It’s fine. He could just use the backup camera and spare the last remaining tiny speck of Taehyung’s sanity, but whatever, why would he, it’s cool.

“Yup,” Taehyung replies, popping the p. He’s folding the wrapper into a tiny, purple square. 

After essentially freaking out first thing after waking up (and pressing snooze three too many times), most of the drive was spent alternating between listening to Jeongguk hum calmingly to himself and talking to him, all while Taehyung stuffed his face with half the newly acquired blueberry muffin in one go in an attempt to spill as little crumbs as possible over the car’s pristine interior. 

Now that they’re here, Taehyung doesn’t know what to expect.

At this point, he’s lucky enough to consider photoshoots a routine, but this – it’s different. He isn’t really sure what exactly it is: ordinary nerves before doing something important, the desire to deliver a flawless job, anticipation of what might happen, or the sinking bitterness from the day before still clinging to his insides.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

“Hey.”

Blinking fast, Taehyung looks up.

Jeongguk’s turned towards him, a soft smile on his face. He looks so cuddly in the oversized Carhartt shirt he’s wearing, and Taehyung’s momentarily distracted by the thought of how much he wishes this was his sight when waking up every morning.

“My turn to be anxious,” Jeongguk says, sounding calm as ever. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair away from Taehyung’s forehead, and it’s so gentle, so pure, void of all ulterior motives that it almost brings tears to Taehyung’s eyes. “This is your forte. You gotta take my hand and lead me through it, okay?”

It's almost a reflex, unconscious, the way Taehyung reaches up to intertwine their fingers. “You’ve really never done a photoshoot?” he asks, wide eyes searching for Jeongguk’s.

Jeongguk shrugs. “I have. But never by myself, and never like this, I guess. I’ve never like, advertised something.”

“If it helps,” Taehyung starts, but pauses. What he’s about to say sends a wave of heat through his body. “No one’s really going to pay attention to the clothes.”

Calvin Klein’s an established brand. There’s no need to prove the quality or durability of their products anymore. No, this is about capitalising, about the subtle mindfuckery of marketing: Fuse with the current hype train to grab the heat of as many people as possible. The brand as the Trojan horse that comes bearing the gift the masses want. And what they want is Jeongguk, Jeongguk and Taehyung.

“I figured,” Jeongguk says. There’s the tiniest tremble to his voice, telling Taehyung he, too, hasn’t shaken the jitters entirely either. His thumb smooths over the back of Taehyung’s hand. “Are you nervous?”

Captivated by Jeongguk’s touch, his gaze, his voice, Taehyung nods. He doesn’t have it in him to put on an act. To pretend. To not be real.

“Uncomfortable?”

He shakes his head. He isn't, that’s not it. It’s overwhelming – how much patience and care Jeongguk gathers to make sure they’re not pushing one another past a certain line. How much control he’s offering Taehyung; control Taehyung is free to decide whether he wants it or not.

Taehyung thinks it might be high time to reevaluate their boundaries.

“I’m not uncomfortable. That's not it.” He speaks to their joint hands at first, and it’s almost comical how the violence with which his heart thunders against his ribcage almost prevents him from glancing up. But he needs to see Jeongguk’s face when he says the next words. “I want you.”

There is no eloquent way to describe what precisely happens to Jeongguk’s expression the moment the meaning hits him – but it’s lovely. His chest inflates with a slightly stuttering inhale, and then it’s like he’s blooming right in front of Taehyung’s eyes.

“You want me?” he asks, voice somehow challenging and reassuring at the same time. The look he regards Taehyung with is honest, clear, open. “Go ahead, try and take me then.”

It's right there. The offer's out. Neatly arranged on a silver platter, just for him, intriguing, tempting, maddening. All Taehyung wants is to reach out, grab it with both hands, bury his fingers in Jeongguk's adorable bedhead, and never let go.

He allows himself a moment of indulgence, his eyes dropping down Jeongguk's face to his mouth.

It feels good, having all this power in the palm of his hand, the guarantee to be welcomed whatever move he settles on next. It's so much power, making use of it would feel like weakness.

“Oh, I intend to,” he says to Jeongguk’s lips, voice a low murmur bleeding desire. “But it’s not that easy. I’m not just going to take you.” He blinks. Meets Jeongguk’s gaze. “I want you to want me too.”

Jeongguk looks at him. He looks at him like he does. And then he smiles, with his eyes first and his mouth second, and he squeezes Taehyung’s hand, brushes his thumb over his knuckles – and leans closer.

When his lips touch the skin of Taehyung’s cheek, Taehyung can’t help it, his eyes, lids impossibly heavy, flutter shut. His world is all sweet, sweet honeysuckle and two words, soft and honest, whispered into his ear.

“I do.”

***

Taehyung is going to die.

It’s fine, he’s accepted his fate, it’s just that all the emotional suffering leading up to the impending cliff jump is literal torture. Mentally, he’s still in Jeongguk’s car, a ninety degree turn of his head away from kissing him, and it’s doing him in. He’s like a child the night before their first day of school – restless with impatience and anticipation, paralysed by insecurity and doubt.

Calvin Klein rented out the entire top floor of an apartment building situated up a small hill towards the city’s edge, two massive two-storey lofts, one with a stunning view at Seoul’s ocean of skyscrapers and highrises, the other overlooking a lively park, its blooming flowers looking like colourful smudges from so far up.

Taehyung’s fingers are still tightly intertwined with Jeongguk’s as they follow a young woman wearing an important looking business tag on a red lanyard around her neck through one of the apartments. Staff is buzzing about, and the creative director as well as the photographer and videographer are standing by a window in the living room, talking animatedly. Greetings are exchanged, introductions are made, hands are shaken, and then they’re whisked away from one another.

By now, Taehyung’s used to this, and he knows it’s best to be as pliant as possible as different people hurtle around him to take care of his hair, make up, and wardrobe – but it’s difficult today. It’s like there’s a magnetic pull tugging him towards Jeongguk at all times. He’s tuned in to every little sound of his voice, his polite laugh, the movements he catches in his peripheral vision.

The emotional turmoil raging inside of him is so all-consuming, he doesn’t even question when the woman with the lanyard sinks down onto a chair next to him and asks, “Say, what is love to you?”

He’s staring at Jeongguk, and he isn’t thinking, and he’s giving possibly the most honest answer that has ever made it past his lips.

What is love to him? Three months ago, he wouldn’t have known.

Now, he’s got an idea.

A few minutes later, he’s given a stack of clothes – a pair of loose-fitting jeans that sit low on his hips, a minimalistic white tee, and the star of the show: a pair of brand-name underwear – and as he changes into them, he catches sight of himself in the mirror.

The vibe they’re going for is extremely clear. He looks boyish, simple, natural, big innocent eyes, slightly pouty mouth, permed hair tamed into a state of controlled mess. The shirt he’s wearing is just a bit too short. He stretches a little, grinning when the material rides up almost all the way to his navel, exposing his stomach as well as the font written along the waistband of his underwear visible above the line of his jeans.

He’s the simple boy next door. And he looks damn fucking good.

“Not bad.”

At the sudden sound of Jeongguk’s voice, Taehyung does a tiny jump. Before he can catch sight of his reflection joining his own in the mirror, he whirls around.

Instantly, his mouth goes desert fucking dry.

Because Jeongguk – Jeongguk has the audacity to stand there. He has the audacity to stand there barefoot, a thin zig-zag-headband keeping his hair away from his forehead, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door with his arms stretched over his head, wearing nothing but a matching denim set: dark jeans, dark jacket, both sporting the brand-owned CK graphic.

No shirt.

None.

Not even a hint of one.

Taehyung shakes his head to himself, quick little jerks making his curls bounce. When Jeongguk raises an eyebrow at him, he feels heat rushing up his neck. 

This isn’t fair, is the thing. He already knew he wasn’t going to survive this day, but now he’s like, sure about it. There’s simply no world in which he can be expected not to reach out and plaster his fingerprints all over Jeongguk’s skin when he’s just… fucking standing there.

He screws his eyes shut for a moment. And then, when he opens them again, he promptly has to do a double take. Does Jeongguk really have to prop himself up against the door frame like this? It’s doing extremely unhinged things to Taehyung’s subconscious.

“Not bad yourself,” he retorts, because he’s cool, he’s composed. And then, because he apparently has a death wish, he takes a couple steps closer. “Ready to give them a show?”

Jeongguk relaxes his arms a little, so he’s hanging further into the room. The muscles in his abdomen tense up. Staff is moving through the hallway behind them, the atmosphere of the whole place bustling and busy. He lets his head hang sheepishly. “To be honest,” he admits before looking back up at Taehyung through his eyelashes. “I don’t think I am.”

And that’s doing wonders to Taehyung. It reminds him they’re being real with one another, grounds him in reality, gives him something to work with, something to do.

“Come on.” He takes another step closer and gently taps his finger against Jeongguk’s nose. “It’s gonna be fun.”

It doesn’t look like Jeongguk believes him, but he’s not impolite enough to voice his doubt.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Taehyung says, and then, because Jimin had been right when he said it so perfectly a few days ago, he adds, “Because you’re hot.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, don’t go out fishing for compliments, Jeon. What did you tell me?” Taehyung braces a hand of his own against the doorframe, dropping his voice into a low murmur. “You want praise? Gotta earn it.”

Jeongguk holds his eye contact for a long time. And then there it is, at once, that huge, open, honest grin. It spreads over his face so quickly, and really, it only contributes to Taehyung’s inner chaos, because how the fuck is it possible for him to look this adorable in an outfit this sexy? How is he handsome and cute and sinfully hot at the same fucking time?

“Touché.”

Forcing a sly smile onto his face, Taehyung pretends to be wholly unbothered by both the abs and the bunny grin. “So? Ready to show everyone what you got?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk nods, and it only sounds a little bit as if he’s still talking himself into it. “Let’s do this.”

***

They start with static poses to warm up. Taehyung goes first, making use of one of the kitchen chairs at first before eventually draping himself all over the dining table. It’s easy to lose himself in his work. Like this, he’s blind and deaf to any kind of distraction, trusting only his skill and determination to manoeuvre his body into the right positions, angle his head, stretch his legs, arch his back the tiniest bit, push one hand under his shirt to lay his stomach completely bare.

“I’m kinda afraid to take the stage after a performance like this,” Jeongguk jokes as soon as he’s done. The staff laughs, but Taehyung notices the underlying tone of genuine insecurity in his voice right away.

You gotta take my hand and lead me through it, okay?

So that’s what he does. It’s second nature by now, anyway.

He grabs Jeongguk’s hand and – walking backwards, eyes on him the entire time – gently pulls him with him in front of the cameras.

A moment of brief hesitation, the exchange of an unsure look and an encouraging nod – and then they’re a team. For as long as Jeongguk needs to acclimate to the flashes of lighting, Taehyung takes control. He spins it into their usual game, drowns out all the people around them with mindless flirting and joking quips that help subconsciously prompting Jeongguk into more of an offensive stance.

Legs spread, Taehyung hoists himself onto the dining table, pulling Jeongguk after him by the lapels of his denim jacket, and when he comes easily, when he puts both hands possessively onto Taehyung’s thighs and leans in – that’s when he knows he’s got him.

It’s a piece of cake after that. The photographer is absolutely delighted with them.

Jeongguk remains a little more timid, sticking as close as possible to the words the director uses to describe his creative vision to them, but Taehyung's always been the more daring, adventurous kind. So when they're asked hey, could Jeongguk maybe strip off his jacket – God, yes, please, finally – so that the waistband of the underwear is more visible, Taehyung decides to simply... take it a little farther.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk whispers as he discards his jacket over the backrest of one of the kitchen chairs without moving away from his spot between Taehyung’s legs.

“Letting the impulsive thoughts win,” Taehyung says as he’s skimming his fingertips from Jeongguk’s naked sides towards the button of his jeans.

“Wha–”

Biting his lip, he pops it open. It’s one of those trousers that doesn’t have a fly, just three more buttons, and when Taehyung pulls just a little bit, they all snap open with little to no effort.

With a barely visible smirk, he blinks up to catch Jeongguk’s eye, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

And then his heart is in his throat all of a sudden. Because Jeongguk looks at him as if he’s about two seconds away from eating him alive, and suddenly this is all very real, and Taehyung should have possibly, probably thought more about where a move like this might lead him, but oh well, he’s here now so he might as well –

“Awesome!” The director claps his hands together joyfully. “Now, can we get a couple solo shots of Jeongguk, hm – maybe on the chair? – Oh, leave them open if you will, this is actually a pretty good idea!”

Grinning, Taehyung taps his fingers against Jeongguk’s bare chest. He slips off the dining table. This brings them even closer together, and because Taehyung is fully in his element, feeling capable of doing this job and overjoyed with the adorable, stunned expression on Jeongguk’s face, and also because he’s clearly not in his right mind anymore, he presses a quick but soft kiss to the side of Jeongguk’s neck.

He steps off the scene but stays close, keeping an eye on his alleged boyfriend. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed mid-shoot, when the thought of what am I even doing here catches up to you, and he wants to be within reach just in case this happens to Jeongguk.

But it doesn’t. Jeongguk is doing a near perfect job. He’s glowing, somehow, golden, just like that one day after their game in Japan when he stood in the middle of the field, momentarily the centre of the universe – and he was looking for Taehyung.

That’s what he’s doing now, too. He’s glancing back over his shoulder, trying to catch Taehyung’s eye, and when he does, he winks goofily, a single strand of hair coming loose from his headband and falling over his forehead.

I want you. I want you I want you I want you.

Throughout the day, they go through multiple outfit and location changes. Two cameras are on them at all times, one taking pictures, the other filming them. It’s easy to keep face and stay engaged, though, to play their parts – now that it’s obvious they aren’t acting anymore.

The creative director makes them visit every area the apartment has to offer. The place comes fully furnished and tastefully decorated, adding to the domesticity they're conveying through this shoot.

Taehyung watches the photographer take a couple shots of Jeongguk sitting on the floor, back leaned against the bathtub, head tipped back and eyes closed halfway, and he’s very close to asking for copies of every single picture to keep for, uh, reference.

They have a mini pillow fight in the bedroom. 

They dribble a tattered football from the kitchen into the living area, laughing brightly (Jeongguk pokes Taehyung in the ribs when he actually manages to steal the ball from him, and then he pokes him some more when Taehyung rightfully argues that he deserves at least a yellow card for foul play).

They lounge on the couch like they’re having a movie night, Taehyung crawling over Jeongguk and lying between his legs with his cheek resting on his chest and Jeongguk planting a quick kiss to the crown of his head.

At the end of the day, they’re in the kitchen. Jeongguk, a dream now dressed in nothing but his briefs, walks in first, the bright orange light of the sun setting right in front of the west-facing windows rendering his edges sharp, emphasising the muscles in his back, his arms, his legs.

Taehyung could watch him for days.

The videographer and the photographer follow him closely, cameras pointed at him. He saunters towards the fridge. Pulls the door open. Leans slightly forward as he peers inside, his shoulder blades drawing together.

On socked feet, Taehyung slides into the room. He’s in a pair of white Calvins, and he’s wearing a different shirt than this morning, one that fits him a lot baggier and keeps slipping off one of his shoulders.

Stumbling a little, he comes to a halt right behind Jeongguk. But he doesn't hesitate. No thoughts, just instinct. Feeling. Realness. He wraps his arms around his waist, tightly, and presses his lips to his nape.

Immediately, Jeongguk sags against him. Taehyung feels him breathe in and out deeply, calmly.

Taehyung could hold him like this forever.

And then, at once, Jeongguk’s shifting. He’s turning in Taehyung’s arms, and he’s spinning them around, sending the door of the fridge flying shut with the side of his body before crowding Taehyung against it, the palm of one hand braced next to his head.

With the wind knocked out of him, Taehyung can do nothing but stare.

Just like that, they’re at that crucial edge again. The one they’ve been tiptoeing along for months now; stopping, backtracking, faltering every so often only to continuously push each other further.

They’re so close again, Taehyung can feel the heat emanating from Jeongguk’s body, and he’s certain Jeongguk can hear the hectic thrum of his heart. It’s pressing against Taehyung’s inside with so much force and insistence, as if it’s determined to propel him forward to finally breach those last couple inches of distance between them.

Subconsciously, his hands curl a little firmer around Jeongguk’s waist, the skin burning beneath his fingertips.

I want you.

Jeongguk wants him too.

Maybe it shouldn’t happen here, now, with all those people around. But Taehyung can’t take it anymore, that ache inside his chest, this very real physical longing – it’s too much. All those eager eyes watching them used to matter, once upon a time. They no longer do.

All that matters is Jeongguk. Right there. Right in front of him. Solid. Unmoving. Fiery intensity in his gaze, eyes wandering up and down Taehyung’s face in anticipation.

And Taehyung’s giving up. Giving in. He’s the one who sends a blow to the fragile house of cards made up of all this tension and anticipation they’ve been building and stacking over the past couple months. He’s the one who finally, finally tips them past the point of no return.

Hands pushing up, up, up over Jeongguk’s sides, his bare chest, his collarbones, he wraps them around the back of his neck. Another shaky breath. Another glance into Jeongguk’s eyes.

Arching away from the fridge's door, Taehyung leans in.

And Jeongguk – pulls back.

It's a miniature shift, so small it's almost unnoticeable, but Taehyung feels it beneath his fingers. With his heart quickly sinking into an ocean of insecurity, he blinks a couple times, fast, all wide eyes and pouting mouth.

Jeongguk hasn't moved away. He’s still right in front of him, so close, his nose is gently bumping against Taehyung's.

Taehyung's eyes drop down his face, quickly checking for clearer signs of rejection. None. What he finds is the tiniest smirk toying with the corners of his mouth, the very first hint of a victorious grin.

Of course. Of fucking course Jeon Jeongguk would play the game until the very last second.

Digging his nails into the skin of his nape, Taehyung just barely refrains from granting his frustration free rein and giving Jeongguk’s neck a little, not-so-well-meant squeeze. He doesn’t have a single flying fuck left to give anymore about who breaks first and who perseveres through this cruel emotional equivalent to blue balls; winning isn’t worth it.

There’s no time for him to voice his growing agitation. Just as he opens his mouth to snap at Jeongguk to finally stop fucking playing, he’s shoved back against the fridge. Caught by surprise, his hands slip from Jeongguk's neck to his chest, and then his elbows bend and bend until his arms are properly trapped between their bodies, and there are fingers pressing into his waist, the touch firm with desperation.

Jeongguk’s lips are on his a split second later, and he's making up for it, making up for every missed opportunity, every postponed touch, every night spent awake imagining exactly this.

It's a searing explosion of pent-up desire and yearning; it splits Taehyung apart immediately, absolutely destroys him in a matter of moments, and then it lights a fire inside his ruin, tends to it, fuels it into a blazing flame.

He sighs into Jeongguk’s mouth, pushes closer, urges him nearer. The need to feel him everywhere, to touch all of him – it’s overwhelming, all consuming. Freeing his hands from between their chests, he skims them down the muscles in Jeongguk’s abdomen until he can wrap them properly around his toned waist. Another noise begs to fight its way out between his lips, and Jeongguk swallows it readily before capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

A sharp tingle zips through Taehyung from head to toe. His brain feels like it’s swimming, completely detached and void of all coherent thought. All he can concentrate on is the way Jeongguk moves against him, mouth urgent and needy, grip on his waist tight and possessive.

He gasps when Jeongguk bunches the material of his t-shirt so far up that a gust of air hits the skin of his stomach. His head tips back, the back of it resting against the cool surface of the fridge behind him, his hips push forward on their own accord, only restrained by the sturdy hold Jeongguk still has on him.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest heaving and sinking with the fight to pump enough air into his lungs to breathe, he watches Jeongguk’s gaze travel up and down his face. There’s a rawness to his expression, a sense of openness and vulnerability, and it makes Taehyung feel actually sick with butterflies.

Jeongguk’s hand braced against the fridge moves. Two of his fingers brush a stray curl off Taehyung’s forehead, past his temple, and then he curls them properly in his hair, not pulling so much that it hurts, just to hold his head still as he leans in once more.

It’s softer this time. Tender. Almost too careful. He brings his other hand up as well, releasing Taehyung’s t-shirt from his harsh grip and instead brushing the pad of his fingers over the structure of Taehyung’s face – cheekbone first, jaw next, chin last. He cups his palm over the side of his neck, only his thumb pressing into the side of his face to hold him steady.

It’s such a sudden and stark contrast to the heated passion from before, Taehyung needs a moment to mentally reroute himself. There’s so much emotion swelling up inside of him, and it’s bleeding into the way he returns the kiss, head angled to the side, nose nuzzled against the skin of Jeongguk’s face, lips moving slowly.

The fingers in Taehyung’s hair slowly uncurl, the hand sliding from the top of his head to the other side of his face. For a moment, Jeongguk just rests their mouths together, and then he puckers his lips, lands a peck directly on the bow of Taehyung's upper lip, the corner of his mouth, the other one, and finally, the mole on his bottom lip.

A giddy, dazed laugh stumbles out of Taehyung’s mouth, but it sounds more like the breathless exhale of air he’d been holding in his lungs for far too long. His eyes flutter open, meeting Jeongguk’s immediately. Moving his head ever so slightly, he nudges their noses together, gently, before pushing forward again to –

“Alright, I think we got it!”

At once, the world filters back in. Around them, the room erupts in rounds of exhausted yet accomplished applause. People call “It’s a wrap, it’s a wrap!” to one another. Hands get shaken, shoulders get patted, words of praise fill the space.

Taehyung hears everything through a wall of cotton. His focus is entirely consumed by the way Jeongguk’s thumb is still drawing small, swirling patterns against his jaw, even as his head is turned away to nod along to whatever compliment he’s receiving from the director.

God. Taehyung closes his eyes. Allows himself a fraction of a second longer full of bliss, nothing but Jeongguk’s gentle touch and his honeysuckle smell. Fuck.

“–’d be delighted to work with you again. I have a few big projects planned all over the continent, and if I had it my way, you’d be the focal point in every one of them. I’ll be contacting your agency about it immediately. Truly, it was wonderful working with you.”

It takes Jeongguk’s fingers falling from his face and gently nudging his ribs to get Taehyung to understand he’s the one being talked to. He feels heavy, somehow, immensely distracted, but then he turns his head, and the photographer is standing right next to him, bright smile on his face, hand stretched out for him to shake.

Instantly, he pushes into an upright position and winds himself out of Jeongguk’s hold. He’s still at work, for fuck’s sake, he needs to find his grip, you know, the one he lost months ago, or he’s going to lose all prospects of future jobs in favour of doing something incredibly stupid, like pressing his mouth against Jeongguk's again instead of talking to this very nice, very important photographer.

It’s fine. He’s kissed many people in his life. Many people have kissed him.

But.

It’s never been like this. Never before has a simple kiss managed to make him feel so broken and so fixed at the same time.

Shit, he’s not listening. Again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a staff member handing Jeongguk something like a blanket or a towel. Probably because he’s the one standing in the middle of a gathering of people in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. It’s white and huge and looks fluffy, and before Taehyung knows any better, it’s draped along his shoulders.

He blinks at Jeongguk, mouth halfway open in question. But all Jeongguk does is give him an encouraging smile. He directs a subtle nod in the direction of the waiting photographer, and then he’s walking a couple steps backwards, granting the spotlight to Taehyung.

It takes a few more moments in which Taehyung can do nothing but stare, lost in Jeongguk’s sparkling eyes, the reassurance etched in his every feature, the lingering feeling of his lips against Taehyung’s own.

But then he snaps out of it. Centres himself back in reality. Finds the switch and turns it back to work mode.

He holds one conversation after the other. He makes small talk with the staff, he humbly thanks the people commending him, he follows the photographer to take a look at the first raw shots, he even takes an Insta story of the whole thing, he changes back into the clothes he’d come in, he laughs about the little goodie bag of Calvin Klein underwear the brand prepared for him and Jeongguk each, he waves everyone goodbye.

They've done it. He’s done it.

***

The drive home is quiet. The silence between them doesn’t feel awkward, but it’s thick and charged with something.

It’s honestly laughable, how shy they both are all of a sudden. There’s this elephant sitting on the middle console between them keeping Jeongguk’s twitching hand from finding its rightful place on Taehyung’s thigh, and neither of them is addressing it.

Taehyung is about one more unnecessary adjustment of the music volume away from just grabbing Jeongguk by the wrist and lacing their fingers together, but he’s afraid of pushing too far too fast. Things between them have kept shifting and changing continuously over the past weeks, but what if the kiss tipped them in the wrong direction? What if Taehyung’s putting his heart out for Jeongguk to take, and now that he can have it, Jeongguk decides he’s never really wanted it in the first place?

Would be just his luck.

Taehyung gnaws on the inside of his cheek. He avoids his bottom lip, already too afraid the memory of Jeongguk biting him there will haunt him for the rest of his life. His foot taps an off-beat rhythm in the footwell.

In his peripheral vision, he notices Jeongguk glancing his way. Every red light, every lull in the music playing from the speaker, every decrease in speed prompts him to make this little half-cough half-clearing-his-throat noise, and every time, Taehyung thinks he’s about to say something – but then he doesn’t. Instead, he watches him rub his nose, scratch the back of his neck, purse his lips.

All too soon, they’re parked in front of Taehyung’s apartment complex. The engine dies down, but the soft music keeps trickling from the speakers. In his seat, Jeongguk turns, just a little bit. Their eyes meet, linger, before they both dart them away.

“So,” Jeongguk says.

“So,” Taehyung repeats, staring at his knees.

Placing one arm along the middle console, Jeongguk shrugs. “I think today went okay.”

Almost involuntarily, Taehyung feels his mouth tug up into a timid smile. He twists to look at Jeongguk, his heart, despite the long day, still fluttering wildly in his chest. “Definitely okay.”

Jeongguk nods.

Taehyung stares at his mouth.

Silence.

Everything inside Taehyung is begging him to just take the leap, be the courageous one once more and invite Jeongguk up to his apartment. There’s a problem, though. These days, he can never be sure what might or might not be waiting for him upstairs. So instead he says “I better go,” hoping Jeongguk will ask him to stay.

Something changes in the way Jeongguk’s looking at him now. There’s a dull edge to his gaze, a quiet sort of defeat snuffing out the spark in it. “Right.” His voice is toneless. Quieter than usual. “Okay.”

Tell me to stay, Taehyung begs inside his head. I want you.

Jeongguk inhales audibly, lips parting. It looks like he’s frantically sorting through possible things to say, but in the end, all he settles on is, “I guess we’ll…”

“Yeah.” Swallowing thickly, Taehyung forces himself to click his seat belt loose. “We will.”

Nodding again, Jeongguk’s eyes dart from Taehyung’s face to his hands and back again. Taehyung can sense his hesitation, but he isn’t sure what to do about it. He’s got his cards on the table, facing upward, everything laid bare. He’s got no feelings left to hide, not anymore. And it might just be the most terrified he’s ever been in his life.

To his astonishment, Jeongguk leans closer all of a sudden. He’s so near so quickly, draped almost all the way across the passenger side, that Taehyung’s heart surges into his throat at once, almost spilling out right then and there.

The door clicks as Jeongguk pulls on the handle. Eyes fixed on Taehyung, he nudges it open a couple inches before falling back into his seat. Looking at him, Taehyung can’t tell what it is exactly that’s making his eyebrows draw together like this – anger? disappointment? relief?

“Good night, Jeongguk.”

Once again, Jeongguk opens his mouth, and Taehyung waits – longs – yearns – for him to say something.

But he doesn’t. He presses his lips into a thin line. His jaw ticks.

So Taehyung gets out of the car, carefully shutting the door behind himself and starting towards the building he lives in. His mind is racing a mile a minute. He can’t believe they’ve finally kissed, kissed not once but twice, and all he can do is spiral about how he hasn’t made another move.

How Jeongguk hasn’t, either.

Almost at the entrance of the building, he turns his head over his shoulder, chancing one last glance. Jeongguk is far away from him like this, but he can make him out in the driver’s seat, can see him smacking his fist against the steering wheel.

In the elevator, Taehyung curses his fear, his insecurity, his doubt, and when he arrives on his floor and finds it void of any surprise visitors, he curses some more. Stupid trust issues, stupid avoidant attachment style, stupid fear of rejection. He’s fed up with it all, tired of letting all of it get in the way of the only relationship he’s truly ever wanted.

Dragging his feet over the flooring in his flat, he beelines for the shower. He needs his brain to stop replaying the day’s events, fast forwarding to the possible sequel of what if and could be. But stripping naked makes it all worse somehow. He’s already at his most vulnerable, and literally exposing himself doesn’t help at all.

He needs the spray of hot water to drown his thoughts out, to wash them away. But all it does is clean him off that crooked sense of preservation and self defence. Watching the sliding glass door of the shower fog up, he can feel the wall he’s built closest to his heart – the one that’s more shielding than it is protecting – crack and crumble.

His mind is running back to Jeongguk. It’s running back, he’s running back.

Fuck it.

He’s running.

Chapter Text

“I’m his boyfriend.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before.”

Exasperated, Taehyung throws his hands in the air. Taking a resigned step back, he lets his gaze wander up the expensive stone facade of the tall building in front of him, as if he considers magically sporting sticky hands and feet and spider-manning his way up there.

“Look,” he says to the security guard blocking the entrance to Seoul’s Victoria Residence living complex. “I’ve been dating him for months. I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can search me on Naver and you’ll find us together, I—“

The broad-shouldered man interrupts him by sighing deeply and rolling his eyes. As he crosses his arms in front of his chest, he stifles a yawn, but Taehyung notices the subtle flex of his bicep beneath his uniform. For a moment, he contemplates the likelihood of success in trying to flirt his way into the building — but tosses that thought almost immediately. He hasn’t put too much thought into his appearance — something he belatedly regrets — simply shuffled on the first pair of sweatpants and t-shirt he could find before grabbing his keys and phone and stumbling out the door. He’s not wearing any socks and he hasn’t bothered to put his shoes on properly, and his hair has dried into a frizzy curly mess and overall, he must look a little insane.

It was a split second decision, this: pushing his own insecurities, apprehension, and fear aside and booking a taxi to Jeongguk’s place. And now that he’s here, somewhere in one of the richest neighbourhoods in Seoul, he realises the expanse of his grand plan ends just outside the glass front door. It’s comical, really, how he can peer into the lobby of the building, how he can see the damn elevator he has to take all the way up to the thirteenth floor, how within reach it all is, how within reach Jeongguk is — but he can’t get to him.

There are few options. He could beg the security guard to let him in, but Kim Taehyung doesn’t say please to very many people. He could pull up a picture of him and Jeongguk on his phone, but he doubts shallow proof like this would suffice. He could call Jeongguk to ask to let him in, but…

What if he says no?

“I can’t just let you up there,” the man tells him for the possibly fiftieth time that evening. He sounds just a little more conciliatory, the dry, monotonous cadence of his words slightly drawn out, so Taehyung’s pout must at least somewhat work. “You’re not on the list of registered visitors for anyone living in this building. Of course I can send a call up to Mister Jeon to let him know there is someone—“

“No,” Taehyung says quickly. Restless, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He feels desperate — he is desperate — standing here, and maybe this is too much, maybe he’s being way too much. It’s been a kiss. Nothing but a kiss. One that left him high and breathless and reeling for more, sure, but still, a kiss. “It’s…” He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. Lets his head hang in defeat. Starts turning on his heel. “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. Excuse m—“

It’s unlike him to give up. But it’s even more unlike him to beat a dead horse until it eventually makes room out of pity. He wants Jeongguk, wants him here and now, in each and every way, so much it feels like he’s blind with it. But there’s also this tiny, bitter part of himself that’s shaking its ugly little head in condescending disapproval.

You’re doing it again, you’re chasing after something you can’t have.

He wants Jeongguk, badly. But he’s longing to be wanted just as much. Just once he wants the relationship between him and another person to be built on equal footing, no more giving himself up to please someone else, no more making himself small.

“Taehyung? Taehyung!”

Instantly, he whirls back around, eyes snapping up and following the sound of the voice calling for him.

Behind the glass entrance, he spots Jeongguk squeezing out between the golden closing doors of one of the elevators that has just made it downstairs. He almost trips over his own feet, hurrying to the front door, car keys jingling in the grip of his hand.

And isn't he a sight to behold. As he watches him come nearer on quick feet, Taehyung’s heart instantly leaps into his throat. Jeongguk’s hair looks a little fluffier, a little more wavy than just an hour ago, and he's changed clothes. Instead of his go to get-up of casual cargo pants and an oversized jumper, he's in black jeans, a patterned shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, and a dark leather jacket. A silver chain gleaming around his neck, an expensive watch adorning his wrist.

Involuntarily, by force of some magnetic pull exuding from him, Taehyung takes a step in his direction. He's promptly met by the security guard's firm chest blocking his view.

God, this is a joke, this is a stupid, sick joke, and he’s about to stomp his foot down like a frustrated toddler.

Jeongguk pushes the glass door open and a flush of cool, air-conditioned air floods out into the warm midsummer night. “Hey, I was just on my way to your pla—“ He stops short, both his talking and his movements. His eyes wander from Taehyung to the security guard and back. “What’s going o— I mean. Is there a problem?”

Feeling a completely unprovoked blush rising to his cheeks, Taehyung backs away from the broad man.  What’s he supposed to say? Oh yeah Jeongguk sorry I came here to be kissed silly some more but I’ve run into a little bit of a problem can you please tell this guy we’re in love or something and pretend this is not highly uncomfortable since we you know literally just touched lips for the first time like two hours ago and speaking of I really hope this isn’t weird and you look so handsome by the way this is a criminal offence you should not be wearing this shirt do you mind if I rip it off right he—

“He’s here to see you. I offered to send a call up, but—“

“He’s allowed to just come up.”

“Well, he’s not on the list.”

Taehyung blinks. He properly screws his eyes shut for a moment until bright little dots start dancing behind his lids, and then he opens them again to mutely watch the discussion unfold before him.

Jeongguk’s raking a hand through his hair, effectively messing it up where it had been tucked behind his ears. “Oh, yeah, I… I forgot that. My bad. Sorry. Please put him on there.”

“I need his ID for that.”

Leaning around the security guard, Jeongguk peeks curiously at him. “Do you have your—?”

The warmth in Taehyung’s cheeks turns into heat. He does not. He’s widely unprepared for what the night might bring his way; no ID, no money, it’s just him, his phone, keys, and his horny excuse for a brain.

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk says. He swallows thickly as if to cover up how out of breath he sounds despite standing rooted to the spot. “We’ll just do that next time.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a few beats in a row.

“But I’m here now, so it’s fine, right?” He cuts the security guard a scrutinising look before sending a slight nod in Taehyung’s direction. “You can come on up.”

Turning his head, Taehyung glances at the man as if to make sure he’s got permission to move and doesn’t have to fear being tackled to the ground once he tries to set a toe past the building’s threshold. The man just exhales deeply before stepping aside.

It’s a slightly giddy, slightly naughty feeling, sneaking past the security guard, but it’s tinged with nerves too, because once there’s no more obstacle between them, Taehyung finds himself face to face with Jeongguk, little distance and little to hide between them.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, voice toned down so it doesn’t echo through the entire lobby. He gives Jeongguk a quick once over, forcing himself not to let his eyes linger or do a double take, instead focussing on the impressive chandelier dangling from the ceiling above. “Did you have somewhere to be tonight?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk murmurs, his mouth suddenly close to Taehyung’s ear and his hand wrapping around his waist firmly, possessively, and it stirs on the butterflies in his belly, and Taehyung has no idea how people deal with this, this feeling of liking someone so much, it’s almost painful. “But I wasn’t fast enough, it seems.”

In front of them, an elevator slides open with a bright ding. Jeongguk manoeuvres them both inside. He presses the button to close the doors, but hesitates when it comes to choosing the floor.

The lobby slowly eclipses from view. Taehyung feels Jeongguk’s eyes on him, like a heavy, burning weight dragging up and down his face. The violent thumping of his heart is bruising the inside of his chest, he knows it. Jeongguk is right there, next to him, in this impossibly small, confined space, and he looks so good, smells even better than usual, and his hand is still wrapped tightly around Taehyung's middle.

With his next inhale, Taehyung carefully meets his gaze.

And then the grip Jeongguk has on him suddenly grows firmer. Before he knows any better, he’s whisked around and backed up against the mirrored wall of the elevator. His shoulders fall back, but his back stays curved in Jeongguk's hold, and he's so close, his other hand coming up to cup the side of Taehyung's face, and his eyes are flitting between Taehyung's eyes and his mouth, back and forth back and forth, and he's shaking his head almost imperceptibly, just to himself, and Taehyung gets it, he also kind of can't believe this is real.

“Please tell me I can kiss you again.”

The words pour gasoline on the flame steadily burning low in Taehyung's belly. There’s a fucking inferno inside of him. Jeongguk sounds desperate, deprived, hungry, and just needy enough to make Taehyung's chest swell and his knees buckle.

“What if I kiss you first?”

And then he does.

This time, Jeongguk doesn’t pull back in an attempt at playful teasing. He’s right there, soft lips, soft sigh breathed directly into Taehyung’s mouth, soft thumb smoothing over the hinge of his jaw. He presses Taehyung further back against the mirror until he’s everything Taehyung can see, smell, feel. Jeongguk’s hand is groping at his side, riding up the material of his t-shirt, but it never actually dips underneath to touch his hot skin.

Taehyung mewls against him. Shaky hands reach up and grasp the lapels of Jeongguk's leather jacket, urging him closer and closer until their chests are pressed flush together. His head tips back against the mirror, and Jeongguk comes easy, so easy, his hand letting go of Taehyung’s jaw and instead bracing itself against the wall just above his head.

There’s not a single inch where their bodies aren’t touching. And still, somehow it’s not enough.

Jeongguk’s starting to bite again, gently skirting his teeth along Taehyung’s bottom lip before pulling it further into his mouth, and it’s driving Taehyung insane. His hips kick forward almost without his permission, and that’s when the most beautiful, magnificent thing happens: Jeongguk chokes against him. A ripple travels through his entire body, a small shock wave, Taehyung can feel it against him, and then Jeongguk's turning his head so his lips are skimming along Taehyung's cheek instead, he presses closer — and he moans.

Fluttering his eyes open, Taehyung tries to focus. With the wall right behind him and Jeongguk crowding him against it, there isn't much room for him to move. He twists his head, just a little, and catches a small tick in Jeongguk's jaw. His chest is heaving with a few quick pants where it's pressing against Taehyung’s.

Amazement, a good amount of pride, and more relief than he'd ever admit to come together in Taehyung's chest, warming him from the inside out. Tentatively, he lets go of Jeongguk's jacket with one hand and instead brings it up to the left side of his face, gently nudging his head back around until their foreheads are resting against one another.

Jeongguk opens his eyes. His lips are slightly parted, minty air fanning against Taehyung’s chin. And Taehyung just can’t resist him any longer — why would he? — so another kiss it is. Softer and sweeter this time, with his fingers tangled in Jeongguk’s hair.

When Jeongguk speaks, he does so directly against Taehyung’s mouth. They both don’t seem keen on giving the other any space, and it’s probably a little bit silly how much Taehyung misses Jeongguk’s lips the very moment they’re not touching his anymore. “Sorry I—“ Jeongguk’s voice is a quiet rumble, rough around the edges and deeper than Taehyung is used to. “Earlier in the car, sorry I didn’t—“

Taehyung stops him with another chaste kiss. “Sorry I didn’t either.”

“I wanted to.”

“Me too.”

That’s what earns Taehyung the grin he’s come to love so much. Except this time he feels it more than he sees it, because Jeongguk’s pressing their faces together, halfway caught between a hug and a kiss. Taehyung holds him close for a minute, gently tugging on the hair at his nape.

“Are you going to press the button?”

Jeongguk makes a tiny adorable sound of confusion, bringing enough distance between them to look Taehyung properly in the face. When he sees Taehyung’s eyes wander to the row of buttons with the numbers 1 to 13 on them lined downwards on the wall next to him, a blush rises to his cheeks. “Oh,” he says bashfully, seemingly not even thinking about taking his hand off Taehyung’s waist for even a second.

“I mean.” Shrugging, Taehyung brushes their noses together before winking cheekily just for good measure. “Unless you wanna stay in the elevator.”

At once, Jeongguk meets his eye, straight on. His face is a little flushed, but his expression doesn’t betray him except for that little mischievous glint in his gaze.

“Oh my God.” Taehyung likes him so much. He likes him so, so much. “You’re into that, aren’t you. Pervert.”

One of Jeongguk’s fingers pokes his ribs. Not as hard as he usually would, not so much to make him squirm away, but enough to elicit a tiny hiccup of a squeal from Taehyung. “Don’t act like you aren’t into it too.”

Oh, this is a game Taehyung likes to play. Biting his lip, he waits until he’s got Jeongguk’s full attention on his face again, and then he lets an expression of complete sobriety smooth over his features. He feels his mouth relax into an unbothered pout, his eyebrows raising just a little bit as if he’s got no clue what Jeongguk’s on about, eyes wide and clear.

Stilling all his movements, Jeongguk cuts him an examining look. There’s a quirk to one corner of his mouth, drawing it into the first idea of a lopsided smirk, and it’s clear he’s seeing right through Taehyung.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Jeongguk asks, but it sounds less like a question and more like a dare. It’s a thrilling feeling, way more exciting than Taehyung would’ve thought, that at this point, Jeongguk knows him well enough to be able to recognise a mask as soon as Taehyung puts it on.

But it wouldn’t be like Taehyung to give up so easily, now would it.

“No clue.”

He looks Jeongguk in the eyes, dead set, as he shoots the ball towards his side of the field. Sees it arrive, carrying another challenge. Watches as Jeongguk accepts it with his usual skill, anticipation simmering low in his stomach.

“So,” Jeongguk murmurs, and it’s embarrassing, straight up humiliating, how Taehyung almost jumps out of his skin when he feels his hand glide under his t-shirt. It feels strong and smooth where it caresses over his waist, ribs, and chest, bunching the item of clothing up almost all the way to Taehyung’s armpit. “You wouldn’t like it if I just took off all your clothes right here.”

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung fights to keep a whine locked away inside of him when he feels Jeongguk’s thumb brush over one of his nipples. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so riled up just from the thought of someone touching him that he’s become so sensitive to the real thing.

Somehow, and he really doesn’t know how he manages it, he gives Jeongguk a small, indifferent shrug of his shoulders. Shifts the look in his eyes so it might pass as boredom. Forces himself to relax.

A clear mistake on his part.

As intent as Taehyung is on winning, Jeongguk is worse. He briefly regards the detached expression on Taehyung’s face with narrow eyes before he continues, “And you wouldn’t like it if I did this.”

And Taehyung has no idea how it happens. How he does it. How he’s faced with little to no resistance. But Jeongguk’s hauling him around in the small space between his body and the wall, hands rough but not hurting on Taehyung, and then he’s taking an impossible step closer, cutting out the last remaining inch of space between them, and Taehyung finds himself with his chest and cheek smudged against the mirror, his arms held tightly behind his back, and his ass pressed up against—

His next exhale comes out as a shaky whimper.

Jeongguk has the audacity to thrust his hips forward just a little more. His hand flexes where it’s keeping both Taehyung’s wrists in its tight grip.

Almost involuntarily, Taehyung flinches slightly. Jeongguk’s fingers are digging right into the spot where Eunchan’s digits had left an indent just the night before, and it’s not like it’s properly painful, it’s not like he doesn’t trust Jeongguk, but he can’t help it.

Jeongguk’s hand loosens immediately, even without Taehyung outright asking for it. The hold he has on him is still firm, he’s still restraining his movements, and he’s not backing away, but his thumb is starting to smooth over Taehyung’s wrist, and it’s gentle, calming, careful.

“You wouldn’t like this, hm?” Jeongguk’s breathy whisper hits that one hollow spot beneath Taehyung’s ear, making him shiver. When he presses his lips to his neck, Taehyung can feel the sly, knowing grin against his skin. “You wouldn’t like it if I kept you exactly like this.” Slowly, he lets his mouth travel upwards, placing hot kiss after hot kiss against the side of Taehyung’s neck. “If I made you look at yourself.” He brings the hand not clasped around Taehyung’s wrist up and tangles it in the hair at the back of his head. He’s not actually pulling on it, but the implication is there, and it is enough. “If I fucked you right here. Right where anyone could walk in at any moment and see.”

The moan stumbling out of Taehyung’s mouth sounds close to a sob. Already, he’s so far gone, and he feels himself slipping away further. It’s like his head is slowly filling up with water, his brain swimming, everything is pleasantly floaty, and he can’t think.

Jeongguk hums, and it somehow sounds both understanding and pitiful. “You wouldn’t be into that, right?”

It takes a lot of mental and physical effort, what with his entire body unresponsive to any self-preserving orders his numbed brain is desperately trying to send out, but he pushes up into a slightly more upright stand. His head instantly drops back, resting against Jeongguk’s shoulder, the length of his neck fully exposed.

“Press the fucking button, Jeon.”

This time, he feels the grin and chuckle vibrating in Jeongguk’s chest where it is pressed against his back. He lets go of Taehyung’s wrists, but before he reaches over to finally get them to the floor he lives on, he leans forward and plants a smacking kiss on Taehyung’s cheek.

Taehyung makes a noise of mocked displeasure but waits for revenge until the ring around the number 13 on the wall begins to glow in a golden hue and the elevator starts moving upward with a barely noticeable jolt. Then he whirls around and throws his arms around Jeongguk’s shoulders, no shame or hesitation left inside of him, only the desire to kiss more, and more, and more.

Jeongguk puts up no fight at all. He grants all control to Taehyung for the moment, yielding with nothing but a quiet, affirming noise breathed into his mouth.

When the elevator announces their destination and the doors slide open silently, Taehyung doesn’t get a chance to have a proper look around the hallway. All he sees is expensive carpet flooring and what looks like the front door leading to one of the two apartments on this floor, and then Jeongguk is on him again. At first, both his hands are cupping his jaw as he slowly navigates them both out of the elevator, but soon they drop down, lower and lower, until they’re suddenly clutching at his hips, and then lower still.

“I’m gonna lift you up.”

Taehyung’s eyes snap open. Jeongguk hadn’t thought it necessary to stop kissing him to announce something like this, so he immediately goes a little cross-eyed, trying to focus on his face directly before him. “You’re gonna wha—“

But the last word is cut off by a surprised yelp when Jeongguk’s hands smooth over his ass down to the back of his thighs. His grip suddenly grows stronger, and before Taehyung gets a chance to protest — not that he would — he’s being hoisted up.

Reflexively, his legs wrap securely around Jeongguk’s waist. He strengthens his clasp on his shoulders as well, but he quickly realises he doesn’t have to, Jeongguk seems to have absolutely no problem holding him up like this.

Which is fine. It’s manageable. It doesn’t faze Taehyung at all.

“This is so hot.”

Yup, see, he’s entirely unaffected.

Jeongguk lets out a low laugh. By tilting his hands a little, he brings Taehyung’s entire body even closer. He kisses him, short but sweet, and nudges their noses together afterwards. “Yeah?”

Taehyung shakes his head, even though he means the opposite. It’s just that denial is the only thing he’s got left before he properly loses it. Just to be a little shit, he loosens his thighs around Jeongguk’s waist, only a bit, only to test him. And then he wishes he’d never gotten such ideas, because now Jeongguk’s fingers are squeezing his legs with even more intent.

Straightening his back so he’s slightly hovering over Jeongguk, he brings both hands from his shoulders to his cheeks, smoothing his knuckles along the sharp cut of his jaw before pushing his fingers into his hair. Instantly, Jeongguk tilts his head back to meet him for another searing kiss.

They’re moving again. Jeongguk’s walking them across the hallway until, at once, there’s another flat surface pressing into Taehyung’s back. One of Jeongguk’s hands disappears from his thighs, but Taehyung doesn’t get a chance to miss it, because he’s replacing that feeling with another better one by pushing his hips forward.

Another whiny moan, loud and foreign sounding in the open, silent space they’re in. It makes Taehyung blush — and then he blushes some more when he learns he’s the one who just made that noise.

He’s not going to lie to himself, he knows he isn’t the quiet type — especially not in the sheets — but that’s the thing. Usually, he’s got somewhat of control over the noises he’s making. Sure, sometimes feeling gets the best of him, but for the most part, he’s just aware of what sound will earn him which reaction: whimpers to be indulged, bratty hisses to cause some opposition, unabashed groans to get to the end.

He did not plan to moan like that directly into Jeongguk’s mouth, and he did not plan on whispering his name in that desperate, almost broken voice of his, more a plea than a command, but here he is, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

And Jeongguk nods at him like he understands him beyond words, beyond sounds.

The noise of a lock clicking open. A second later, the door behind Taehyung gives way, but he’s not falling; Jeongguk’s got a safe hold on him.

They step inside the apartment, Jeongguk’s sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile flooring of the entrance area. Still wrapped up in a kiss, Taehyung’s eyes are closed, but since there’s no light shift behind his lids he assumes the flat must be dark. Everything smells clean and a little flowery here, just like Jeongguk does.

“Careful,” Jeongguk murmurs against his mouth, breaking the word apart into two syllables and planting little pecks on his lips after each one.

It takes a moment for Taehyung’s hazy brain to catch up. He’s slowly, gradually regaining solid ground beneath his feet. But it’s not like his legs feel steady enough to hold him fully upright, so he immediately slouches back against the nearest wall.

Jeongguk’s following him closely, his hands now boldly pushing underneath his shirt while his lips wander from Taehyung’s mouth over his cheek, jaw, down his neck.

With half a mind to tell him not to leave a mark where clients can see, Taehyung lets his head tip to the side to grant him more access. The slightly damp touch of Jeongguk’s lips leaves a hot tingle in its wake. It’s paralysing. His hands are burning with the desire to touch, but his limbs feel impossibly heavy.

It’s not normally like this. He’s not usually this flustered, pliable, and docile right from the start; under normal circumstances, it takes some good work to get him to this place, and not very many people can pride themselves on catapulting him straight into subspace with nothing but a few kisses.

Jeongguk playfully sinks his teeth into the part of his shoulder where it transitions into his neck, and that punches another noise out of him, this time something that sounds like a weird mixture of a yelp and a deep groan.

It also brings him a little closer to reality again.

Which is instantly overwhelming, if he lets himself truly process it. He’s inside Jeongguk’s apartment, Jeongguk’s expensive penthouse apartment, and what’s even more surreal is that Jeongguk is there and he’s kissing him.

“Darling.”

Another one of those high-pitched whines. Taehyung juts his hips out a little further, desperately searching for more points of contact and gasping when he finds it.

Jeongguk gives his bottom lip a gentle bite before pulling away. “Arms up.”

It’s the first time Taehyung lets his eyes flutter open since they made it out of the elevator. A little disoriented, he blinks up at Jeongguk. He’s not really in a place to process any words spoken to him right now, and the sight of Jeongguk’s kiss-bruised lips isn’t really helping.

When he’s still not making any attempt at moving after a few seconds, he feels Jeongguk’s careful hands on his forearms again, this time guiding them up and bringing them together over his head.

He holds them there for a moment, one hand splayed over both wrists, leans in, and places another kiss on the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. With his free hand, he pushes Taehyung’s t-shirt up to his armpits, and then over his head until it eventually lands discarded on the floor beside them.

“God, you’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you.” He sounds almost pained when he says it. The tips of his fingers skim lightly down Taehyung’s arms, down his sides, all the way to his hips. “Look at you,” he says, and he does. “Fucking perfect.”

There’s absolutely nothing Taehyung can do. All the words, the lighthearted quips, the flirty remarks, all of it — they die on the tip of his tongue. He wants to tell Jeongguk to go look in a damn mirror, feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t push forward and wrap him up in another kiss right this second, or relieve him from some of his own clothes — but he can’t.

All he manages is: “Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk nuzzles their noses together for a moment, breathing in deeply. “I want you.”

And somehow, these words, originally his own and now matched by Jeongguk, work like magic. They amplify the heat, the want, the need inside Taehyung to incomprehensible levels; pump a rush of adrenaline through him from head to toe; make him move.

He kisses Jeongguk with newly found feverish vigour, hands clasped behind his neck before they finally start fumbling with the stupid, sexy, stupid leather jacket.

At first, Jeongguk lets him struggle for a couple seconds, but then he makes himself agreeable and allows Taehyung to slowly peel the heavy item of clothing off. Lowering his arm, Taehyung goes to drop it in the same place he suspects his t-shirt landed in, but before he can, something wet and cold bumps into the back of his hand.

With a yap and a jump he lets go of the jacket and takes an involuntary step forward, colliding right with Jeongguk’s chest. “Oh my God, what was that?”

“Hm?” Jeongguk’s hold on his hips grows a little firmer, steading him. He sounds dazed. “Wha— Oh. Oh.”

Bringing just enough distance between them to no longer run in danger of accidentally stepping on each other’s feet, Taehyung cautiously brings his hand down. When it’s instantly met by that cold, wet thing again, he yanks it back. “What’s that supposed to mean, oh?”

In front of him, Jeongguk moves. He’s leaning closer again, but his hands are no longer touching Taehyung.

There’s a moment of oddly charged silence, and then the light fixtures on the wall flicker on, bathing the room in soft yellow-tinged light, like a summer morning.

It takes some time for Taehyung’s eyes to adjust to the newly added brightness, and then he’s distracted for a little bit by looking down from the entrance area of Jeongguk’s apartment to what he’s pretty sure opens up to be the living area. He’s curious about it all, torn between wanting to get a tour and snoop around and moving to the bedroom as fast as humanly possible.

His eyes drop. They drop and focus on something he least expected to find here.

“Oh.”

Clearing his throat, Jeongguk bends down to pick his jacket and Taehyung’s shirt up from the ground. When he’s back upright, he cradles the bundle in front of the middle of his body with one hand, the other gesturing vaguely. “Taehyung,” he says, “meet Bam.”

For a moment, all Taehyung can do is stare in utter disbelief. The situation is a little bit hilarious: Here he is, shirtless in the flat of the man he’s been shamelessly daydreaming about for weeks at this point, both of them breathing heavily from arousal, ready to finally act on this simmering tension between them — and now suddenly there’s a dog wedging itself between them, floppy ears bouncing from the way it’s treading on the spot.

“Bam,” Jeongguk says, and it’s comical how the dog’s happy movements instantly pause and its ears strain for its owner’s voice. “This is Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s eyes jump up to Jeongguk, focussing on his face for a second. His cheeks are a blushy pink colour, but his ears are burning red. It’s so endearing, Taehyung doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

But then the dog, Bam, starts shifting in his stance again. He takes a curious step closer and huffs against Taehyung’s leg, demanding his attention.

Taehyung doesn’t know much about dogs — pets were always out of question in his family — but he’s pretty sure as big as this one is, he’s not very old. There’s a sort of youthful energy buzzing through him and making his body quiver restlessly, and the look in his big brown eyes is adventurous and a little mischievous.

Very reminiscent of someone.

Throwing a quick glance at Jeongguk, Taehyung slowly sinks down to his knees. He holds both his hands palms up out to Bam for him to sniff, a little cautious since the dog is now pretty much the same height as him.

But Bam doesn’t seem interested in polite greetings, no, it appears he’s more the all-or-nothing type. Lowering his head, he bumps his snout into Taehyung’s thigh, and then his upper body gives way and for a moment, he’s stuck in this goofy, playful pose with his face buried in Taehyung’s sweatpants and his wagging tail in the air.

Chuckling, Taehyung begins to eagerly pet the side of his neck. That causes him to let himself flop to the side with a heavy thump before rolling onto his back.

“Hi,” Taehyung says, fondness pitching his voice into a tone much higher than usual. He scratches his fingers over Bam’s exposed chest. “Nice to meet you, sweet boy.”

Bam’s limbs kick in the air as if he’s not entirely sure how to contain his excitement. It’s very flattering, and it brings the biggest smile to Taehyung’s face, so he continues rubbing his palms all over Bam’s soft fur.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable. Look at you!” Pouting, he glances up at Jeongguk. “Why didn’t you say you have a dog?”

With the hand not holding the clothes, Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck. “I…” He shrugs. “I dunno? Didn’t think it would be that interesting.”

“You didn’t— what?” When Taehyung’s hands momentarily still on Bam’s belly, the dog immediately whacks a paw in his direction. Raising his eyebrows in clear offence, Taehyung shakes his head. “I can’t believe it. You’ve got the most adorable dog and you — Yes, you,” he says to Bam. “You’re adorable. I’m sorry I didn’t know you existed! Oh yes, look at you, you loooove the belly rubs, don’t you.”

Momentarily, Bam loses his balance and plops back onto his side. His tail makes a loud slapping noise as it hits against the tile flooring. Scrambling, he pushes onto his feet, and it looks so funny, sort of like a giraffe on ice skates, as if he’s not yet used to being as big as he is.

“Hold on.” Taehyung reaches out to scratch Bam’s head, but he’s talking to Jeongguk. Before he speaks next, he gently cups his hands over the dog’s ears, and turns his head to blink up at Jeongguk. “Is he a child of divorce?”

Jeongguk is there to meet him head-on, and Taehyung isn’t quite sure if there’s annoyance or the beginning of a laugh hiding behind the expression on his face. “He’s a break-up baby.”

Snorting, Taehyung turns his head back towards Bam, who’s busy hiding his face between Taehyung’s legs and getting the material of his sweatpants a little damp with his snout.

To his surprise, Jeongguk squats down next to him. He reaches out, trailing his fingers from the highest point of Bam’s head halfway down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung spots a quiet, affectionate smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“We’ve had a dog growing up,” Jeongguk says. “A Maltese, Gureum. My parents brought him home when I was like, six maybe? For Jin’s birthday. There’s this video of Jin holding this very confused tiny dog and absolutely sobbing because he was so happy.”

The grin stretching Jeongguk’s lips is contagious. Taehyung can’t help but tear his eyes away from the dog to look at him instead. The way he pets Bam grows a little more absent-minded.

“I think it was part of my parents’ masterplan to get us to stop fighting so much. Basically the only time we would not start arguing is if Gureum was in the same room as us. Even though he was technically Jin’s dog, he’d always share him with me, and we’d even have movie nights together cuddling him on the couch.”

“It sounds like you two were a nightmare when you were kids.” Taehyung remembers Jeongguk mentioning something along those lines back when they were picking strawberries at his parents house, but keeping in mind the protective manner with which Seokjin towers over his younger brother these days, it’s hard to imagine them ever wanting to rip each other’s heads off.

“Oh, we were,” Jeongguk laughs. “I think mostly I was an annoying little shit. But Jin wouldn’t let me be a part of his friend group, and I didn’t get that at all, because surely all teenagers want a scrawny eight-year-old tugging at their sleeves, right?”

Bringing one of his hands up to hold in front of his mouth, Taehyung giggles. There’s the tiniest hint of a frown on Jeongguk’s face; one that suggests he still doesn’t fully understand why he was secluded from the cool adolescent experience back then, and it’s a little bit hilarious.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes at him, but he doesn’t scold him for laughing. His fingers stroke along Bam’s side, seemingly touching some kind of magic spot right there, because it only takes a couple of seconds for the dog to roll onto his back again, chest and tummy fully bared and one paw stretched out towards Jeongguk.

“Anyway,” Jeongguk says, examining Bam’s nails. “Gureum passed away when I left for university. I still miss him every day, that little fluffy cloud of a dog.”

Tenderness swells up in Taehyung’s chest. With his eyes cast downward, he rubs small circles into Bam’s chest, his forearm brushing against Jeongguk’s ever so often.

It’s still confusing, the things Jeongguk makes him feel. It’s just so much, so much all at once. Taehyung can’t fully make sense of the fact that barely two minutes ago, he was moaning directly into Jeongguk’s mouth, and now he’s kneeling on his apartment’s floor, petting a dog he had no idea existed and contentedly listening to Jeongguk talk about his childhood.

And the most confusing part is that he’s happy either way.

“Jin and I had both thought about getting a dog for years, but we’re both busy with work, plus Aerin’s allergic, so it wasn’t ever going to happen for me at least, but then a year ago…” Jeongguk trails off, his hand stilling against Bam’s body. When Taehyung turns his head, he sees him silently open and close his mouth a few times. “I just really needed a reason to get up in the morning, I guess.”

Stretching his hand out, Taehyung smooths his palm over Jeongguk’s knuckles, tangling their fingers together.

“Such a stupid reason to get a dog,” Jeongguk huffs, lifting his thumb and hooking it over Taehyung’s. Taehyung doesn’t agree with this statement, but he doesn’t say so. “But anyway. Turns out my brother and I are still good at coparenting a puppy. It helped that I was home basically all of last year, so Bam definitely loves me more.”

As if on cue, Bam scampers up to his feet again. Curling his body, he pushes closer, wedging himself in-between Jeongguk’s legs and leaning his upper body against his torso.

Taehyung pushes up on his knees a little more, scooting closer. He rests the hand intertwined with Jeongguk’s on Jeongguk’s thigh and brings the other up to stroke behind Bam’s ear again. “I’m sure he does.”

Bam gleefully leans into the gentle caress, nudging his nose into Taehyung as if to encourage him to keep going. Chuckling, Taehyung does, moving his hand in slightly bigger circles.

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” Taehyung hums, busy leaning in to bump his cheek into the soft fur on Bam’s neck. The dog seems delighted, the wagging of his tail growing stronger the closer Taehyung gets.

“Darling.”

Half hidden behind Bam, Taehyung glances up. His eyes first dart to his hand on Jeongguk’s thigh where Jeongguk’s smoothing his thumb over his skin time and time again.

And then he meets Jeongguk’s gaze.

There’s something in the way he looks at Taehyung. Inexplicable. There’s a heaviness to it, but it seems so calm, so soft that the intention behind it is almost lost on him.

Almost.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes. Falling back in his seat, he pouts at Bam. “Seems like daddy needs attention.”

Bam blinks at him, oblivious to the tension in the room flaring up again.

Without looking at Jeongguk, Taehyung grins as he adds, “Maybe he also wants belly rubs.”

Jeongguk’s fingers flex as he pulls Taehyung’s hand further up his thigh. It’s an unfair move, more or less forcing Taehyung to acknowledge and feel up the strong muscles in his legs, but Taehyung’s weak, of course, so it works.

“Daddy would not say no to belly rubs,” Jeongguk says when Taehyung’s looking at him again, and it seems as if it takes a lot of his willpower not to let his face break out into a smile of his own. “Although I’m pretty sure he’s got other things in mind for now.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung smooths his hand down Bam’s back one last time. Feigning innocence, he tilts his head at Jeongguk. “Like what?”

The question, spoken in the most unassuming of tones Taehyung’s got to offer, hangs in the air for a moment. It feels almost like another dare between the two of them, the stakes rising with the tension between them.

And then, just like that, they’re right back to where they were before.

Jeongguk pushes back onto his feet, his hand remaining intertwined with Taehyung’s to help him up as well.

Knees a bit shaky under all the implications and promise of what’s to come, Taehyung stumbles a little. Looking for support, he braces his free hand against Jeongguk’s shoulder. And then he simply can’t help himself, he lets it trail up and up, tracing the tendons in his neck and the line of his jaw. He can hear Bam’s nails clicking against the floor tiles, but he’s too distracted by the way Jeongguk’s hooded eyes keep flickering up and down his face to see where the dog is going.

“Wanna kiss you again,” Jeongguk murmurs quietly. He’s so close Taehyung can feel his hot breath fan against his chin, their lips less than an inch apart.

“Do it, then,” Taehyung whispers back. He parts his lips invitingly and lets his eyes close halfway, lids too heavy to fight them from falling shut.

But Jeongguk shakes his head. It’s a small movement, Taehyung only catches it because it makes their noses rub together. “Can’t,” he says, voice still low and almost a little shy. “We’re not gonna make it to the bedroom if I do.”

Something inside Taehyung roars victoriously. It’s not like he’s never felt desired before — but there’s something about Jeongguk so plainly admitting to it, telling him he’s powerless in the face of what he wants that gets to Taehyung like nothing else does.

It’s a power thing, maybe. Or maybe it just makes him feel like this big thing between them, these strong, complicated feelings — they’re equal. That what’s happening here is as far out of Jeongguk’s depth as it is out of his, but that’s not going to stop them.

Well, whatever it is, it makes him feel high.

"Come on," he quips, lightly trailing the tip of his forefinger from Jeongguk's throat over that hollow spot beneath his jaw to the underside of his chin. There, he pauses, watching in awe as Jeongguk swallows thickly. "You're that weak?"

“For you,” Jeongguk breathes. “Yeah.”

Normally, an answer like this would have Taehyung throwing his head back from the force of his eye roll. He hates it when guys lay it on too thick, when they whisper sweet nothings to him to coax him into offering himself up more willingly, to get him all vulnerable and have him in a way no one else’s had before. When they try to make him believe they’re seeing past his strong exterior.

But this is Jeongguk, and Taehyung knows him now, knows good, honest, upright Jeongguk, knows that if it’s him who says things like this — it’s because he means them.

Suddenly overcome with a fresh wave of tenderness, Taehyung angles his face up, carefully brushing their mouths together.

“Eh.” A low sound of warning steals itself out between Jeongguk’s lips. The grip of his hand around Taehyung’s becomes a little firmer, and he brings the other up to his waist, fingers easily wrapping around the narrow part of his body and holding him in place. “I mean it.”

For a few seconds, Taehyung stays perfectly in place. A flawless display of temptation. They’re breathing the same, hot air, the space between them smaller than a hair’s width, and Jeongguk keeps furrowing his brows, eyes mostly closed already, as if he really is holding on to his last little reserve of self control.

Falling back on his feet, Taehyung playfully flicks his chin. “Show me your freaking bedroom then!”

Jeongguk remains still for another beat. The dazed, far-away look on his face causes a swoop low in Taehyung’s stomach, but it is nothing compared to the feeling of a million unruly butterflies all fluttering up into his chest at once when his nose scrunches up and he lets out a bashful, breathy laugh.

Taehyung likes him so much it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t have time to think about that. A quick kiss is pressed to the knuckles of his hand, and then Jeongguk is gently pulling him along the hallway.

They toe their shoes off as they go, leaving them strewn across the floor. In the spacious living area, the hold of their hands strains as Taehyung slows down, taking in expanse of the room.

He vaguely recalls the painting on the wall from one of the selfies Jeongguk’s sent him, but everything else feels like completely new information, and he’s eager to soak it all up like a dry sponge.

Similar to the house of Jeongguk’s parents, it’s apparent how expensive this apartment must’ve been. But despite the sleek walls, the luxurious hardboard flooring, and the massive floor to ceiling windows granting a stunning view of the city at night, it still looks like a home. A blanket thrown over the backrest of the couch. The decorative art pieces look personal. There’s a gaming console set up underneath the huge tv. The coffee table’s a mess, a deck of cards, a few candles, and a cup of coffee left there.

“Why d’you have a random mattress in your living room?” Taehyung asks, peering over the couch.

“So we can lie down with Bam wherever we want,” Jeongguk says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, pulling on Taehyung’s hand to urge him to walk on, and oh right, yeah, Taehyung had kind of forgotten Jeongguk’s not living by himself.

Making himself a little heavier just to be a little shit, Taehyung wonders, “Where is Jin, by the way?”

“Work.”

It’s a little comical and a lot flattering, how eager Jeongguk is to get them into the solitary of his bedroom. Too full of anticipation himself, Taehyung decides to make himself more pliable, coming along easily.

On their way, they pass something like a big bean bag next to a shelf mounted to the wall displaying an array of action figures. Bam lies there, curled up and lazily chewing on a colourful toy. His tail wags once as they walk by, but when Jeongguk motions him to stay put, he relaxes back into his resting place.

Internally, Taehyung tries to map out the interior of the apartment. It’s definitely got more than enough space for two adults to live comfortably together while respecting each other’s privacy. From what it looks like, the living area and the adjacent kitchen act as a sort of divider between the two bedrooms, a common place where both brothers can come together to spend quality time with one another.

Jeongguk leads him down the hallway, and when Taehyung’s gaze drops to follow the movement of his feet against the hardwood flooring, he breaks out into a fit of giggles. Not even tonight is special enough to let go of the toe socks.

And it’s not a turn off, is the worst thing.

As Jeongguk pushes the door to his bedroom open, he gives Taehyung a quizzical look. And he looks so cute, head slightly slanted to the side in confusion, that Taehyung can’t help but brush their noses together before sauntering past him into the room.

He isn’t really prepared for it to feel so personal and intimate all of a sudden, but as soon as his feet touch the big fluffy rug splayed across most of the floor, it’s like Jeongguk’s offered him special access to the most private part of himself.

And Taehyung — although he is not quite sure when exactly it happened — is eager to commit every part of him to memory.

Their hands let go of each other as Taehyung takes another step further into the room. He’s making no sound, the shifting of his naked feet deafened by the rug.

The space is smaller than expected, although still bigger than Taehyung’s bedroom and closet combined. With its tall windows and clean white walls it’s modern like the rest of the apartment, but the way it’s furnished and decorated instantly feels like Jeongguk. Heavy midnight blue curtains are drawn almost all the way, letting in only a slither of the perpetually awake city. There’s a dresser to Taehyung’s right, a cosy looking armchair to his left, a hoodie and a few shirts piled on its armrest. A big cloud-shaped pillow for Bam to curl up on before the window. Two doors spaced out along the left wall of the room, one (closed) presumably leading to an ensuite bathroom and the other (ajar) to the closet, and between them: a big, ornate black-framed mirror.

Taehyung’s wandered far enough into the room by now to catch sight of his reflection and remembers with a start that he’s missing his t-shirt. Suddenly shy, he wraps his arms around his middle, glad the light falling in from the hallway is dim enough not to illuminate his blushy cheeks. Averting his eyes, he turns on the spot, eyes immediately falling upon the piece of furniture he’s been kindly ignoring so far.

The bed takes up a significant part of the room. It’s massive, first of all, the mattress even wider than the one they shared in Tokyo. Its black four-poster metal frame is rather low to the ground and looks elegant and romantic, not too bulky, fitting for the space. Wrapped around the posts jutting up from each corner are strings of fairy lights. A light, flowy canopy the same colour as the curtains pools around the headboard.

With his head slightly tipped back, Taehyung lets his gaze wander, taking in the entire room one more time. Everything’s clean, but not in the way that suggests Jeongguk’s constantly paranoid about having guests over but rather maturity. The clothes on the armchair are folded, his shelves are dusted but not free of useless knickknacks, the bed is made but the thick duvet isn’t neatly tucked into the bed frame.

It feels strange, being here and being so quiet, with Jeongguk standing somewhere behind him.

Strange, but not uncomfortable.

Suddenly, in the time it takes for Taehyung’s eyes to close in the act of blinking, colourful lights flicker on. One moment, the room is made up of one shadow overlapping another and the next, it’s tinged in soft blue and purple, the ceiling dotted with stars.

His eyes fly toward Jeongguk. It might be the newly added hue of the lights, but his cheeks appear just as pink as his ears.

Endearment spurs on the butterflies in Taehyung's stomach, but they quickly get swooped up by something bigger, something even more thrilling, when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face. There’s absolutely no doubt in his gaze, no bashfulness or reserve, only confidence and certainty.

He’s looking at Taehyung with so much want and need, it makes Taehyung’s head spin.

The door gives a soft click when Jeongguk shuts it slowly, and the sound is so loud between them, carries so much weight, it alone causes Taehyung’s breathing to become a little breathier, a little quicker.

Jeongguk’s taking his sweet, sweet time — closing the door, unnecessarily adjusting the mood lamp on the dresser — but his eyes never leave Taehyung. It feels a little bit like he’s playfully preying on him, lulling him into a false sense of security with the intensity and sureness of his gaze.

But then he takes the first step, and the chase is on.

A grin stretches out on Taehyung’s face as he hops back. He whirls around in an attempt at escape, but realises he’s got nowhere to go. His heart races with excitement, and then suddenly, it plunges into his stomach only to immediately surge back up into his throat, fighting its way out of him in the shape of a breathless laugh as Jeongguk’s arms wrap around him from behind, trapping his arms against his sides and pulling him snug against his chest.

“Gotcha,” Jeongguk says triumphantly.

Taehyung lets out a huff of feigned annoyance. “I didn’t even try to get away.”

“Huh, is that so?” Jeongguk presses a kiss to the hollow spot beneath his ear, and it’s only a little bit embarrassing how that instantly makes Taehyung’s knees buckle. “Try now.”

Feeling the heavy daze from earlier tug on his limbs again, Taehyung lets himself sag back against Jeongguk. There’s nothing he can do about it. With his entire body lax like this, the trap of Jeongguk's arms becomes even tighter. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, you want to?”

God. What has Taehyung gotten himself into here? He’s never, never felt this out of it before with half his clothes still on, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. His brain is cloudy with fog, unable to operate the rest of his body.

He’s dough in Jeongguk’s hold, completely slack and pliant when he’s gently dragged around so they’re facing the mirror. Over his shoulder, Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow at him. It’s half cocky, the gesture, but it’s also partly genuine, Jeongguk’s eyes clear where they’re looking for his consent.

“I want you,” Taehyung says. His voice is borderlining neediness. He doesn’t care. “To kiss me like you said you would.”

Jeongguk complies immediately, soft lips ghosting along the length of his neck. He's not looking away from Taehyung's face though, not yet.

“And then…” Squirming against him, Taehyung lets out a petulant whine when he tries to turn in his arms so he doesn’t have to witness his own reflection saying the next words but is kept firmly in place by Jeongguk’s arms.

Never bringing any space between them, Jeongguk lets his hands roam over Taehyung’s body. “And then what?” He brushes one of his thumbs over his nipples again and Taehyung can see one corner of his mouth tug into a sly grin when he twitches violently in his hold. “Tell me.”

Cursing under his breath, Taehyung lets his head fall back. Eyes half closed, he looks for Jeongguk in the mirror. His breathing is shallow, occasional hisses stumbling out of him every time Jeongguk’s fingers caress a particularly sensitive spot on his body.

“And then,” he says, pausing until he’s more than sure he’s got Jeongguk’s full, undivided attention. His heart is thumping so hard, there’s no way he doesn’t feel it vibrating through his whole body. “And then I want you to fuck me better than all the times I’ve imagined it.”

Jeongguk’s face doesn’t betray him this time, but Taehyung feels the stutter of his next exhale against the bare skin of his shoulder. There’s something electrifying about it, about noticing all the tiny ways in which his control wavers, about knowing he’s doing this to him.

But Jeongguk wouldn’t be Jeongguk if he didn’t steal the ball right back out of Taehyung’s court.

“I’ll think about it,” he says placidly, and he sounds so convincing, voice low and a little gruff. He lets his fingertips trail down the front of Taehyung’s torso, briefly dipping into his belly button before his thumbs hook under the waistband of his boxers peeking out over the line of his sweatpants.

“Jeon, I swear to fucking G—“

Jeongguk’s fingers pull on the waistband, stretch it away from Taehyung’s body, and then they let go at once so it snaps back roughly against the tender skin below Taehyung’s navel.

Rolling his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder so his face is half hidden in the crook of his neck, Taehyung whimpers. It’s not like it genuinely hurt — it didn’t, not at all, actually — it’s just that his entire body feels like a raw, exposed wire, throwing sparks at every touch, as light as it may be.

“Maybe if you ask for it nicely I’ll make a quicker decision.”

Taehyung screws his eyes shut. He tries to take a calming breath, but with his face smushed into Jeongguk’s skin, all he can smell is sweet honeysuckle, and that isn’t doing much for his nerves. “You suck,” he grits out, skimming his teeth over Jeongguk’s neck.

Humming, Jeongguk pretends to trap his head between his cheek and his shoulder for a second before relaxing again. His thumbs are dipping under Taehyung’s clothes again, and it’s extremely distracting. “You’d like that, hm.”

And, yeah. That’s it. Taehyung just can’t help it anymore.

He really likes the whole dom-sub spiel, likes having all control stripped away from him piece by piece, but he’s not usually one to give in easily. He’s a genuine piece of work, bratty remarks always at the tip of his tongue, and he just doesn’t break.

Except he does. He is, right now.

“Please.”

Over the years, he’s gotten so used to pretending. It’s not that he’s ever felt dissatisfied before, not really, but it’s also never felt quite like this. Normally, whenever he’s begged another one of his hook-ups to give him something in the past, he’s got his face buried in a pillow already and has been continuously teased towards an edge before he even as much as thinks about the word ‘please.’

And even then, it always comes from a place of desperation, never of yearning.

“Please what?” Jeongguk’s fingers tease around the lower bit of Taehyung’s stomach, so light it almost tickles. “Come on, darling. Say it again and I’ll give it to you.”

Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Taehyung’s forehead. And somehow that really seals the deal for Taehyung.

He forces strength back into his knees to turn around on the spot and to his surprise, Jeongguk actually lets him. He’s holding him steady by his hip bones, and he doesn’t protest when Taehyung pushes closer, bringing his hands up and digging his nails into the back of his neck.

“Please fuck me,” he breathes into Jeongguk’s mouth, and it’s honestly infuriating, how they’re still not kissing again. “Need you to. So bad. Please, Jeongguk.”

The grip of Jeongguk’s hands becomes bruising all of a sudden. He smooths them up over Taehyung’s naked skin until they meet at the small of his back, drawing him further in. “Gonna ruin you for everyone else.”

And then he finally kisses him — and Taehyung believes every word.

He melts into Jeongguk, sighing contentedly out of his nose and obediently opening his mouth a little further when he feels Jeongguk’s tongue lick over his bottom lip. It’s mind-numbingly good, the kiss, and it kind of makes Taehyung forget where he is and how to act. His hands scramble up into Jeongguk’s hair, then down to his chest, before he gives up and lays them against his shoulders, nails sharp, to anchor himself.

Jeongguk’s hands wander down his back, calm and steady and smooth, and then they dip under the waistband of his sweatpants once more. This time, he cuts the teasing, instead shoving the trousers over the curve of Taehyung’s hips until they fall and land in a heap around his feet.

Humming appreciatively, Taehyung presses closer, urgent to touch Jeongguk in as many places as humanly possible.

A gasp is punched out of him and swallowed up by Jeongguk’s smiling mouth when Jeongguk brings his hands down just a little further and grips his ass, hard.

Taehyung has to break the kiss and avert his face for a moment. He’s heaving for air, and he’s feeling pretty lightheaded, but he can’t help eagerly arching into Jeongguk’s touch.

“Colours as safe words work for you?”

There’s a tingle so strong low in Taehyung’s stomach, it almost hurts. He nods quickly, uncaring about how desperate he must look at this point.

“Give me one now,” Jeongguk prompts, caressing his thumbs under the hem of Taehyung’s boxers for a second before pushing them down a few centimetres.

“Green.” Taehyung’s voice is barely above a whisper, all breathy and wrecked already. He tries swallowing, tries clearing his throat, but it’s futile.

He wants Jeongguk out of his clothes as well, badly so, has half a mind to start fumbling with the buttons of his shirt — but there’s also something about the thought of him remaining fully dressed while Taehyung’s completely naked. It’s hot and fast and dirty in Taehyung’s mind, and he really needs to stop thinking about it.

“Any hard limits?” It’s maddening, how composed Jeongguk sounds.

Taehyung wracks his brain, trying to come up with the quick bullet point list he usually rattles down for his hook-ups. But Jeongguk’s bringing one hand to his front now, smoothing it down and cupping his crotch through his underwear, and Taehyung just cannot fucking think.

They should probably pause and talk about this with clear heads, but there are few things Taehyung would like to do less than back away from Jeongguk right now. He’s so far gone, he’s pretty sure Jeongguk could make him like even the things he usually passes on.

Well, except.

“Peeing!” Taehyung says, suddenly feeling a lot more sober with Jimin’s voice echoing through his head. “No peeing.”

Bringing a bit more distance between them, Jeongguk blinks at him. “Um,” he says. “Alright.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t sound particularly disappointed about this request. Taehyung lets out a breath of relief. With a steady oxygen flow, it’s a little easier to sort through his thoughts as well.

“Also,” he adds. “No punching. Nothing that involves fists, basically.”

Jeongguk holds his eye contact, easily attentive. “Slapping okay?”

After thinking about it for a moment, Taehyung nods. It’s not something he trusts everyone with, but he knows Jeongguk would never hurt him in a way that isn’t pleasurable.

“Where?” Jeongguk asks, bringing one hand up and swiping his thumb lightly over Taehyung’s cheek. “Here?”

It’s the place Taehyung’s most hesitant about. He hasn’t made any seriously bad experiences yet so far, but you never know. It’s difficult for another person to gauge how much a sensitive spot like this can handle, when the right time for a slap might be, but he counts on Jeongguk to know what he’s doing, and he knows that if done right, giving this specific permission can be so worth it.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk drops his hand to his chest. “Here?”

Taehyung nods without stopping to think twice about it, and when Jeongguk quirks an expectant eyebrow at him, he quickly adds, “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Yeah, Taehyung’s dying. He kind of already knew he wasn’t going to make it through the night, but at this rate he doubts he’s ever gonna get as far as touching Jeongguk’s sheets.

The sly smile is apparent in Jeongguk’s eyes before it slowly pulls on his lips. And as if he hasn’t done enough already, he has the nerve to bring his hand back down, giving Taehyung’s ass a light pat before squeezing again.

“Here?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer already.

“Yes,” Taehyung says, and it comes out as more of a moan than he’d intended.

“Mhm, thought so.” Jeongguk’s back to fidgeting with the hem of his underwear, gradually pushing it down further and further. “Bet you’d like that. I could tie you up.” He presses a tender kiss against Taehyung’s temple. “Hands together, knees together.” Another kiss, this time to his jaw. “Bend you over.” His voice — it’s too soft, way too soft to match the meaning of his words. “And spank your pretty ass until you come all over yourself.”

A final kiss is placed to the side of his neck.

Taehyung chokes, but he tries to hide it. That Jeongguk’s face is currently hidden from view as he’s leaving a damp path of open-mouthed kisses all the way to his shoulder makes it easier, but barely so. Pushing a hand into his hair, Taehyung keeps him close, breath hitching every time he feels the hint of Jeongguk’s teeth threatening to leave a mark on his skin.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, hm?” he asks breathlessly.

“God, you’ve got no fucking idea,” Jeongguk tells him lowly, the words hot against Taehyung’s shoulder.

At once, Taehyung pulls him back up by his hair. The quiet hiss Jeongguk lets out sends a tingling wave of delightful satisfaction through him. “Better get on with it then.”

And Jeongguk does. He wraps him up in another kiss, licks and bites into his mouth, and pushes Taehyung’s underwear out of the way entirely.

The little spark of shame of being completely naked in front of another person only adds to the fire raging inside Taehyung.

Jeongguk lets out a low moan upon seeing him for the first time. The sound of it encourages Taehyung’s own hands to move, making quick work of the buttons of Jeongguk’s shirt. He’s not patient enough to rid him of the item of clothing entirely, merely shoving it halfway off his shoulders before moving on to the fly of his pants.

“Fucking jeans,” he huffs, struggling with the button. “Who were you trying to impress?”

For once, Jeongguk’s hands are still on him. When Taehyung pauses to blink up at his face, all he finds is his usual sweet and honest expression when he answers, “Hopefully you.”

Taehyung’s heart hurts. His everything hurts, actually. And not in a bad way.

“Well.” He yanks the button open. “I find them annoying.”

He knows Jeongguk can tell it’s a lie. He looks a little too smug for a second there. Rolling his eyes, Taehyung tugs the zipper down, actively trying not to make it obvious he’s totally feeling him up.

Suddenly, Jeongguk’s fingers curl around his wrists, close to where they transition into his hands so they’re not digging into the spot that had made Taehyung flinch earlier.

The fact that he remembers this small thing – Taehyung feels like his heart is breaking in the best way possible.

“Good thing I think you’ve seen enough then.”

Taehyung’s eyes dart up. He stares. A deer caught in the headlights.

Jeongguk looks back at him patiently, expression unreadable save for the glint in his eye. He juts his chin out a little bit, as if beckoning Taehyung to move. “Foot of the bed. On your knees. Facing away from me.”

A bratty “I’ll think about it” of his own is quickly bubbling up his throat, but it gets stuck somewhere, choked off by the way Jeongguk’s eyebrows shoot up before he can utter even a word.

Jerking his internal steering wheel around into a perfect one-eighty turn, he bats his eyelashes innocently before taking a small step out of the pile of clothes to his feet away from Jeongguk and towards the bed, as if he’s never as much as considered not obeying.

Jeongguk’s next exhale is audible in the room, shaky and heavy.

The warm grey duvet is soft under Taehyung’s knees as he slowly sinks down on the mattress. He tries to get comfortable, but he’s too rigid. Like this, he's fully on display, and he's got no ways of covering anything up. All he's got left is the extensive knowledge of his own body; how to position himself in a way he knows will look appealing.

He spreads his legs a little wider, pushes his ass out so his back curves a little more dramatically, and places both palms obediently on his naked thighs.

All this tension immediately evaporates when Jeongguk comes up behind him and plants a gentle kiss on the crown of his head. He relaxes his stomach, falls a little further back on the soles of his feet, and tries to chase the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips by twisting his head.

With absolutely no objection, Jeongguk grants him his wish, meeting him in a kiss that is too slow, too tame for the situation.

Taehyung sighs into it. His hand comes up and clasps around the back of Jeongguk’s neck for leverage. He’s not really sure what it is he’s trying, hoisting himself up or pulling Jeongguk into bed with him, and he doesn’t really mind either way. At this point, he’s so full of equal parts fondness and arousal that he can’t distinguish between the two anymore, and he can feel himself starting to become messy, leaking between his legs. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s ever gone without being touched for so long, and he really, really needs this to change.

But it seems Jeongguk’s mind is set on other plans. When Taehyung whimpers into his mouth, he backs away, standing upright again and leaving Taehyung’s field of vision.

A moment later, he steps around the bed. With one swift motion, he shrugs off his shirt and places it on the bed in front of Taehyung. Intense heat races to Taehyung’s face as he watches how the purple lights of the mood lamp accentuate the defined muscles of Jeongguk’s arms as he smooths the shirt out.

When he’s satisfied, Jeongguk leans closer again, ghosting his lips over Taehyung’s left cheek once. “Look at you, darling, how hard you are for me,” he murmurs, and Taehyung doesn’t have to see his face to know there’s the beginning of one of his cute grins stretching out on it when he feels him trembling beneath him. “Want me to touch you?”

“Please,” Taehyung whines immediately, opening his legs a little further. His knees wrinkle Jeongguk’s careful handiwork with the shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to feel sorry about it. It’s not like the shirt’s gonna make it through the night in a presentable state anyway.

“Hm.” Jeongguk’s got his hands nowhere near him, but his lips wander closer and closer to Taehyung’s mouth. “Too bad,” he says then, pecking his bottom lip. “You gotta wait for a bit longer.”

Frustrated, Taehyung shuts his eyes. He can barely keep an indignant grumble inside, but what he can’t possibly keep to himself, no matter how hard he tries, is a muttered, “Asshole.”

The slap takes him off guard. It’s light, nothing but a sharp tap against his cheek, but he didn’t see it coming and the slight sting of it goes straight to his cock.

Knees scrambling on the bed – unsure whether to press his legs together or spread further – his eyes snap open. He glances up at Jeongguk, eyes wide from the low angle.

Jeongguk’s thumb smooths over the spot on Taehyung’s cheek he just brought his hand down on, soothing the skin even though he didn’t actually elicit any pain. “Patience, darling.”

The quiet, pronouncedly slow tone of his voice makes Taehyung want to jump out of his skin in frustration and annoyance.

It also makes his cock twitch.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you.” Eyes travelling up and down Taehyung’s body, Jeongguk brings his thumb to Taehyung’s mouth. He sounds haughty, a little like he pities Taehyung, and Taehyung really wishes he wasn’t so weak, but he is, and his mouth falls open from the slightest press of Jeongguk’s finger. “So needy to have me inside you.”

His thumb swipes over Taehyung’s bottom lip before roughly pushing past it and pressing down on his tongue.

It doesn’t go in nearly far enough to make him gag – Taehyung is very proud to say he’s got that reflex under control like no other – but the harshness of it causes saliva to collect and pool in his mouth so fast, he doesn’t have time to close his lips before it starts dribbling past his chin.

“Messy,” Jeongguk comments, and he sounds fascinated by it. The pressure of his finger loosens a little bit, allowing Taehyung to wrap his lips around it and move his tongue.

Hallowing his cheeks, he blinks up unassumingly at Jeongguk as he starts bobbing his head back and forth, the glide easy with so much spit.

He doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it, what it must look like from Jeongguk’s point of view, tattooed knuckles disappearing between Taehyung’s lips. Instead he focuses on the expression taking shape on Jeongguk’s face; lips falling open as his mouth goes slack, eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

Teasingly, Taehyung skims his teeth over the length of his thumb, the look in his gaze remaining one of pure innocence.

“Fuck.” The curse rushes out of Jeongguk in a single breath. At once, he curls his fingers around Taehyung’s chin to stop him from moving, thumb hooking behind the line of his bottom teeth, the angle pushing his mouth open slightly. “So fucking pretty. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

He’s not gonna last that long.

The thought occurs to him and it instantly whirls up the mix of hot shame and arousal inside of him with a fresh wave of panic. He’s used to being strung out until he physically can’t take it anymore – it’s just never happened to him solely with words before.

There’s nothing he can do about it. Jeongguk’s barely gotten started on him, and he’s already a whiny, pliant, submissive mess.

He opens his mouth further, chin straining against Jeongguk’s tight hold, as if to show him how much he could take.

Jeongguk loosens his grip, instead adjusting Taehyung’s face with two gentle fingers only. “What,” he asks, tipping Taehyung’s head back a little more. “Want to suck me off?”

There’s not a single thing Taehyung would say no to right now.

“Want my cock in your mouth and watch me come all over your beautiful face?” Jeongguk brushes a stray curl off Taehyung’s forehead carefully. “Or do you want me to fuck you and fill you up?”

Taehyung’s mouth falls shut, silencing the loud moan that so desperately wants out. He has to tense every muscle in his body to keep himself from losing it right this second. He’s never felt like this, never so on edge and desperate and wet, cock leaking precome everywhere without being touched once.

Jeongguk hums, clearly taking Taehyung’s pressed-together lips as an answer. “Yeah, you wanna get fucked in the ass so badly, don’t you.”

Eyes fluttering closed, Taehyung nods.

“Want to take my cock and feel all full and tight.”

“Please.”

To his surprise, Jeongguk kisses him. It’s light and gentle and so familiar, not at all like he’s about to fuck Taehyung’s brains out, and it makes Taehyung disoriented in the best way possible.

“Get on your hands and knees then.”

Pushing up on his thighs, Taehyung blindly chases after him for another kiss, butterflies fluttering in his chest happily when Jeongguk doesn't reject him.

“Come on, darling.” Jeongguk’s voice is still mostly coloured by assertiveness with a tinge of softness, but now Taehyung can hear a good amount of urgency bleeding through. His lips wander over the side of Taehyung’s face, the feeling distracting from the gentle touch of his hand to his spine, gingerly guiding him forward.

The new position is even more exposing, but Taehyung’s too far gone to care. He arches into it, draws his shoulder blades together and curves his back a little more than necessary.

Jeongguk’s hand closes around the small of his waist, digging into the curve as if he wants to prompt Taehyung into pushing his ass out even more. “Good.”

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung barely keeps another whimper to himself. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, the strain sending tingle after tingle of sharp arousal through him.

The mattress shifts as Jeongguk backs away. Taehyung’s first instinct is to turn after him, find out what his next move is going to be – but he knows better now. He can’t wait any longer, and he’s not willing to take any risks, so he stays perfectly still except for his hands fisting the sheets.

Sounds of impatient hands rummaging through drawers fill the room. A moment later, a baby blue bottle of lube and a condom land half on top of one another on the mattress close to Taehyung’s knee.

Taehyung forces himself to breathe slowly out of his nose. He’s close to begging again, and he doesn’t even really know for what.

The noise of fabric rustling yanks on his attention span, making him perk up in interest.

“Eh.” When he senses the beginning of movement in Taehyung, Jeongguk touches the tips of two of his fingers to a spot just above his hip in warning. “No peeking. Eyes forward.”

Shivering, Taehyung curls his hands further around the sheets. He’s turning Jeongguk’s entire bed in a state of utter disarray, and they haven’t even properly gotten started.

He listens to Jeongguk shuffle off his jeans. When he casts his eyes downward and ignores the slightly embarrassing, extremely messy state his own body is in, he can catch the tiniest glimpse of Jeongguk’s right thigh.

He totally counts this as a win.

Jeongguk has the fucking audacity to be neat about his clothes. He folds his jeans before placing them somewhere close to the foot of the bed. Taehyung can see them, a tidy square of black fabric, and what he can also see is Jeongguk’s underwear lying on top.

Breathing suddenly heavy again, he averts his eyes. He feels dazed, somehow far, far away from any kind of reality but at the same time so perfectly aware of every inch of his body and how it feels on fire with the absence of touch.

That he knows Jeongguk is naked right behind him, so close, is making it almost unbearable.

The mattress shifts again, stronger this time, when Jeongguk gets on his knees behind him.

“Socks,” Taehyung says. The word sounds like it is punched out of his lungs – because it is. He’s breathless, but he just remembered this, and he won’t be able to let himself go if he doesn’t mention it.

Jeongguk stills behind him, and Taehyung can only imagine the expression on his face is caught somewhere between determination and confusion. “What?”

“Socks,” Taehyung says once more, rubbing his own feet against the sheets for emphasis. “Take them off. You’re not fucking me with your toe socks on.”

It’s quiet between them for a beat. And then, to Taehyung’s surprise, Jeongguk starts laughing. He moves, clearly stripping off the socks one after the other, but he’s giggling so much that he has to hold on to Taehyung’s waist with one hand as to not lose his balance.

“You know,” he says. “You really shouldn’t shame people for what they like to wear.”

“M’not.” Taehyung’s still distracted by the sound of his laugh echoing through his head. “I actually think they’re cute. I just won’t be able to think about anything else if you leave them on.”

Jeongguk brings his other hand to his middle as well, smoothing his palms over Taehyung’s skin. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, bending down and kissing the narrowest part of Taehyung’s torso. “I’ll make sure you’re not thinking at all.”

Eyes fluttering closed, Taehyung holds his breath. He believes Jeongguk, is the thing – because he’s got no reason not to. “You’re setting the bar pretty high for yourself here, Jeon.”

“What,” Jeongguk huffs, hands dragging down to Taehyung’s hips. “Don’t believe I can reach it?”

Taehyung shakes his head. It’s much easier to lie and bluff facing away from Jeongguk. “Happy to be convinced otherwise, though.”

The grip Jeongguk has on him grows firmer the further down his hands travel. “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that.”

Humming, Taehyung tries to turn his head just enough to catch Jeongguk’s eye. He’s stopped by the harsh way in which Jeongguk squeezes his ass. “Do something about it.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, digging his nails into the flesh. “Want me to fuck it out of you?”

Taehyung has to hold his breath so a moan doesn’t betray him. “Try it.”

The smack lands square in the middle of Taehyung’s left asscheek this time. It’s much louder, much harder than before, making him rock further forward onto his hands. Biting back a curse, he hisses instead, head suddenly too heavy to hold up anymore.

Jeongguk’s palm is tenderly soothing over the spot that is no doubt turning bright red under his touch. He grants Taehyung a moment to recover and use the safe word in case he needs to, and when he doesn’t, he brings his hand down sharply again.

It’s not like Taehyung didn’t expect that. He’s kinda used to it; his level of brattiness seldomly deserves only one slap.

He just hadn’t expected it to land in the exact same, already sore place.

“Fuck,” he groans, flexing his arms so his elbows don’t buckle.

Jeongguk trails his fingers down the back of Taehyung’s left thigh and back up again. “Turning all red for me,” he comments, and he sounds so mesmerised, so out of it, that this time around, Taehyung really doesn’t see the next one coming.

It’s on the other cheek, and it’s twice as hard as the one before, and yeah, Taehyung’s slowly accepting the fact he probably won’t be able to sit for a while once they’re done here.

His elbows give way at once. Hiding his face in the crook of his arm, Taehyung tries his best to muffle his moan, but he knows Jeongguk hears the desperation and lust in it clear as ever.

He doesn’t know why he’s holding back now; he’s said please twice already. But what he does know is that this back and forth, this game of seeing who will break first that they’ve been playing since day one — it sets both of them off on their individual power trips.

Jeongguk shifts on the mattress behind him. His left hand is still touching Taehyung’s ass, sort of pinching the skin of his right cheek where he just slapped him — Taehyung gets a little dizzy thinking about how red it must look — but the other is gone, nowhere to be felt on Taehyung’s body.

And then there’s the distinct sound of skin tugging on skin, and it’s mixed with Jeongguk’s heavy panting.

Taehyung’s eyes fly open. He can’t actually see Jeongguk, and he’s not dumb enough to turn around, but looking past his own body, he can just make out the steady movement of Jeongguk’s right arm behind him.

“No!” He almost sounds sad when he says it, and he’s a little surprised when he feels the corners of his mouth dip down in disappointment. Scrambling to push back onto his hands, he tries wiggling his hips a little closer to where Jeongguk is pumping his cock behind him.

“No?” Jeongguk asks, a little breathless but clearly smirking.

“You said you were going to fuck me,” Taehyung pouts. The drawl of his voice is all whiny and indignant, and he’s about to do something really, really stupid, like push up onto his knees and twist around to get Jeongguk to give him what he wants.

“You’re so fucking impatient.” As if sensing his plan, Jeongguk smooths his hand up and presses it against Taehyung’s tailbone to keep him in place.

For a moment, Taehyung resists his hold. He’s not actually trying to shrug Jeongguk’s hold off. All he wants is to test the waters. How close to breaking is Jeongguk really? How far does he have to go to draw a reaction out of him?

Not very far, it seems.

The slight hint of resistance against Jeongguk’s grip is enough for Taehyung to earn himself another slap against his asscheek. It’s the left one again, and it’s sharp and hard, and immediately after, Jeongguk’s hand is replaced with something else, something very warm and very wet.

Taehyung moans, arching his back to chase after the touch.

“You want my cock so bad, don’t you?” Jeongguk prompts, smacking it against the abused skin of Taehyung’s ass. It feels big and heavy and wet with precome, and yeah, Taehyung really, really wants nothing else in that moment.

“Please,” he whimpers, falling back onto his elbows and spreading his legs just a little wider. “Give it to me.”

Jeongguk lets out a moan of his own as he places both hands flat on Taehyung’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart.

And then he pauses.

There’s weight to the silence in the room, and it’s pressing against Taehyung from all sides in the most delicious way possible.

“Taehyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is low. It sounds dangerous. It makes Taehyung’s cock jump.

“Yeah?” Taehyung replies just as quietly.

One of Jeongguk’s careful thumbs swipes lightly over his rim, and Taehyung swears he sees stars for a moment. His hips kick back, searching for more, but Jeongguk’s already taken his touch away again.

“Did you finger yourself before coming here?”

Heat rises to Taehyung’s face. It’s a little comical, how he’s lying here with his ass in the air, begging for Jeongguk to fuck him already, yet this is the confession making him blush.

“Yeah,” he says, and then, encouraged by the sound of Jeongguk’s trembling exhale, he adds a little bit of sulkiness to his tone, “I didn’t know what to do with myself. Want you so bad…” He moans when he feels Jeongguk’s thumb inching closer to his hole again. “My fingers weren’t enough.”

“So you came here.” The words trickle slowly from Jeongguk’s lips. “Just assuming I’d give you my cock.”

Closing his eyes, Taehyung tries to breathe in and out of his nose, but it’s futile. It’s like every time he sucks air into his lungs, it comes out a whimper. He doesn’t really care to explain to Jeongguk that yeah, he’d hoped for that, but really, he came here mostly for another kiss. It seems simultaneously obvious and unnecessary, given the situation they find themselves in right now.

“Please.”

“How can I say no to that?” Both of Jeongguk’s hands spread him apart again and then at once Taehyung has to clench every single muscle in his body to keep himself from coming on the spot, because Jeongguk is spitting on his hole. “Opened yourself up like the good little slut you are for me.”

A knifelike tingle slices through the arousal pooling in Taehyung’s stomach. His stomach flips before sinking down heavily. It’s such a dirty feeling, and it makes him feel even dirtier in the way it pushes him a little closer to the edge.

“Orange.”

It’s a little surprising to himself how easily the safe word made it past his lips. Normally, he hesitates before using it, the part of himself that is unhealthily competitive and the people pleaser scared of being a disappointment in him holding him back from setting boundaries.

But it’s different right now. He feels safe.

“Don’t like that word,” he explains quickly. It’s not the reason, not really. He actually likes the way Jeongguk said it, that he’s a slut for him. It’s just that he can’t deal with hearing that word at all at the moment. Not when Eunchan’s voice saying it still echoes through his head.

Jeongguk shuffles closer behind him, and then Taehyung feels him lean in and press a tender kiss to his shoulder blade. He nuzzles his nose against his skin for a moment, up and down, like a small nod.

“Such a good boy, getting all ready for me.”

Sweet relief washes through Taehyung from head to toe. It mixes with all the other jumbled up feelings swirling around in his belly, and it’s really, really getting too much to handle.

Half a thought about how he’s extremely fucking glad Jeongguk’s not making this into a big deal, doesn’t take it personal in any way, occurs to him, but it’s immediately wiped away when Jeongguk caresses a wet finger between his cheeks.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Taehyung simultaneously arches back into the touch while also letting out a small whine of protest.

“What?” Jeongguk asks, tone too gentle. He’s moving his finger in maddeningly slow circles around Taehyung’s rim.

“Stop teasing,” Taehyung bites, belatedly realising how demanding he sounds. Every sense, every muscle in his body braces for another slap of Jeongguk’s hand — but it never comes.

Somehow that makes the whole thing worse. He shivers, pulling on the sheets a little.

“You don’t want my fingers?” Jeongguk asks, but it’s clear he already knows the answer. “Think you can take it like this?”

Taehyung nods instantly. If anything, he’s determined to. It’s very quick now, the way his head slips into a state very near incoherence. Jeongguk’s proven to him that he’s going to look out for him, care for him, never giving or taking more than he can handle, and Taehyung’s never trusted someone this blindly.

Plus, there’s just something about it, isn’t it. About taking Jeongguk’s cock before anything else.

“You sure?” Jeongguk asks, and Taehyung wishes he could see his face right now. He sounds just as gone as Taehyung feels.

“Yes.”

For a moment, the room crackles with charged silence, and then Taehyung feels Jeongguk move behind him. His fingers fumble close to his knee, grabbing the small foil square.

“Um.” Even though his arms feel too shaky, Taehyung pushes up onto his hands again. His voice sounds alien to him, filtering in through the thick wall of fog building up inside his head. “We don’t– I mean.”

Jeongguk stops fidgeting behind him.

“I’m clean. In every sense of the word.” Part of Taehyung cannot believe he’s actually saying this right now. “So if you’re… also good to go, I guess, and you don’t want to use that… would be fine with me.”

“You want me to fuck you raw?”

And God, the way in which he says it, voice a deep rumble broken apart by shaky breaths – that alone would be enough to convince Taehyung if his mind wasn’t already set on the matter.

“Please.” It’s more a sigh than a word. “Wanna feel you.”

And that seems to finally do it.

The package of the condom gives a weird crinkling noise when Jeongguk tosses it off the bed, unopened. His hands scurry around on the mattress, and then there’s the sound of a bottle being uncapped, and then suddenly everything gets really wet.

The lube feels momentarily cold as it runs down between Taehyung’s cheeks, making his rim flutter excitedly, before dribbling down the back of his thighs, but Taehyung doesn’t get a chance to complain about it.

Jeongguk’s slapping his cock against his hole before running it through the wetness of his crack.

A moan stumbles out of Taehyung, and it transitions to a surprised cry when suddenly, there’s Jeongguk’s hand reaching around his body and tightly wrapping around his length.

This is it. Taehyung’s waving goodbye to his last little bit of sanity when Jeongguk starts loosely pumping his cock while thrusting his hips lazily.

It’s so close to the real thing, so almost that it drives Taehyung insane.

“Jeongguk, please.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.” Letting out a sharp hiss when his cock catches on Taehyung’s rim, Jeongguk pulls his hands back, placing them firmly on Taehyung’s hips. “Arch your back a little more for me, darling.”

Taehyung does. He pushes his body into such a sensual curve it’s almost uncomfortable, ass perked up in Jeongguk’s hold.

“Fuck, yes, exactly like that.” Jeongguk’s left hand smooths up over the sweat damp skin of Taehyung’s back, easily wrapping around his waist. The other trails further down, skimming over his hole teasingly one last time before it’s finally replaced with the head of his cock. “Can’t believe I’ve got such a gorgeous pretty little thing in my bed. And you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” Taehyung sighs, heart fluttering wildly.

Slowly, Jeongguk pushes his hips forward.

With all the air punched out of his lungs at once, Taehyung’s mouth falls open around a soundless moan. His hands curl into the sheets so hard he’s pretty sure he actually rips them off one corner of the mattress. It’s not like it hurts – it doesn’t; everything is so slippery there’s little to no resistance, and Jeongguk’s careful and maybe a little masochistic, sliding in at a snail’s pace.

But it’s tight. Maybe Taehyung could’ve done with a little extra fingering, but he’s never gonna admit to that.

Not when being split apart feels this good.

Once again, his elbows buckle. His shoulders give. He sags forward, limbs feeling like jelly and mind wiped deliciously clean by the feeling of Jeongguk inside him.

“No, come on.” There’s a dangerous edge to Jeongguk’s voice, masking his breathlessness. His hand leaves Taehyung’s waist and pushes into the hair at the back of his neck instead. “You said you could take it so you’re gonna take it.”

He pulls.

It hurts just the right amount at just the right time.

A loud, high-pitched wail fills the room. Taehyung’s got no idea if he’s ever made this kind of noise before. He doesn’t think so, but he also doesn’t care. The prickle of Jeongguk’s nails scratching over his scalp as he gathers a fistful of his hair and yanks on it combined with his cock gradually stretching him out – it’s simply too fucking much.

Behind him, Jeongguk curses under his breath, and it kills Taehyung a little bit that he isn’t able to watch his face crease in pleasure right now. “So fucking tight,” he groans lowly. His fingers curl a little more in Taehyung’s hair as he pushes in the rest of the way until his hips are flush with Taehyung’s ass. “So good, darling. Like you’re made for me.”

Taehyung’s not able to handle this any longer. He’s so unbearably hard, his entire body feels like it’s on the brink of explosion, and if he thinks about Jeongguk literally being in his guts — he’s gonna come.

Screwing his eyes shut, he lets out a helpless whimper. He’s truly given up all control, so when his body rocks back and forth, just a little bit, just as much as it can with Jeongguk still holding onto him, it’s doing so on its own accord.

Jeongguk’s hand eases out of his hair immediately, instead grabbing his waist. The grip is strong, instantly stilling every oh so little of Taehyung’s movements, and there’s just a tiny bit of panic bleeding into his voice when he says, “Wait.”

Taehyung feels his chest swell. This — how wrecked Jeongguk sounds, the way he twitches inside of him — it’s better than praise. It’s him, he’s doing this to Jeongguk, he’s getting him to moan and sigh like this, and he’s not really doing anything.

Riding that little power high, he dares to turn his head just a little bit, risking a glance over his shoulder.

And God, is it worth it.

The way Jeongguk looks, it’s almost pained. His brows are furrowed in concentration and he’s biting his lip, eyes cast downward to the point of connection between their bodies, and he’s so beautiful Taehyung could keep staring at him forever.

Of course, his naughty little head twist doesn’t go unnoticed. But this time, Jeongguk seems almost glad to meet his eye. It’s a quiet check in, and it makes Taehyung’s chest ache in the best way possible.

“Gonna fuck you now.”

Taehyung pretends like those words don’t very nearly tip him over the edge. “About damn fucking time.”

And that’s it. Jeongguk draws his hips back all the way, letting Taehyung feel the drag of his entire length, before thrusting back in in one quick, fluid motion.

It knocks the wind out of Taehyung all over again. He feels Jeongguk at a point so deep inside him, right where the pressure is reaching impossible levels, and the weird thing is that it’s not just physical.

Lust and love have never gotten tangled up for Taehyung before, but now, as he’s losing himself in the feeling of Jeongguk around him, inside him, occupying every one of his senses — he thinks it might not get better than this.

“Tell me how it feels,” Jeongguk demands with the next push of his hips, and it’s a little bit hilarious that he thinks Taehyung’s in any way able to form coherent sentences right now. “Tell me how my cock feels inside of you, darling.”

Gasping, Taehyung tries to suck in enough air for an answer. He’s still got a little bit of vigorous fire left inside of him, and he’s not going to let go of it easily. Turning his head again, he looks for Jeongguk’s gaze, and when he finds it, slightly dazed but full of desire and passion, he says, “Feels like you’re still being too much of a gentleman with me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t grant him any time to brace himself for what his words might get him. He snaps his hips forward so abruptly and much, much harder than before that Taehyung can’t help but faceplant into the sheets yet again.

And this time, Jeongguk lets him, and in a way, Taehyung already knows he’s not going to get back up again.

“Like this?” The way Jeongguk’s hips pound into him now, not necessarily faster than before but much, much harder and better, elicits the most obscene, nasty noise.

Moaning, Taehyung lets his cheek rub against Jeongguk’s soft sheets as he nods.

Jeongguk slaps him. It’s not as strong as before, and the angle is a little off so it lands more on his hip than his ass, but it barely matters; it gets Taehyung all sputtery and whiny all the same.

“Yeah, just li— Fuck.”

The next thrust of Jeongguk’s hips brings genuine tears to his eyes. His cock is reaching so deep, and it hit that spot, that sensitive bundle of nerves inside Taehyung straight on, and it feels so good it’s stupid.

“There,” Taehyung chokes out, shaky voice muffled by the sheets.

“Here?” Jeongguk asks, but he knows — he knows. He hits the exact same spot again and again, hips moving faster now.

Taehyung doesn’t have any words left inside of him. He can barely manage sensible sounds, too, the noises falling from his lips nothing but unintelligible, distorted versions of yes and right there and Jeongguk.

When Jeongguk leans closer to kiss a crooked line up Taehyung’s spine before biting his shoulder, his entire body presses Taehyung further into the sheets, gently forcing him to lie down. Like this, Taehyung’s cock is grinding against the shirt splayed out over the mattress every time Jeongguk thrusts inside him.

“Good boy, taking my cock so well.” Jeongguk’s mouth feels hot against his ear. “You love getting fucked by it, don’t you.”

It’s driving Taehyung absolutely mental, how his whole world at that moment is only Jeongguk. He’s all he sees when he blinks his eyes open; all he feels, his chest pressed closely against the length of his back; smells, sweet, sweet honeysuckle; hears, low moans breathed directly into the skin of his neck.

“M’close.”

Jeongguk snaps his hips forward, hard, and then he stays there.

Breathing heavily, desperate for relief, Taehyung clenches tightly around him. He tries to wiggle his hips back and forth, but Jeongguk’s got him pinned into place.

“You wanna come?”

Nodding, Taehyung stretches his neck a little upward, suddenly extremely needy for a kiss. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question it, instantly bringing their lips together.

“Ask for it.”

“Please,” Taehyung whispers, arching up for yet another kiss and humming contentedly when he gets it. “Feel so full. Wanna come with your cock inside me. Please, Jeongguk.”

“Okay, darling.” Jeongguk kisses the corner of his mouth. His hips start moving again, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets Taehyung to toe that razor thin line again. It only takes a few thrusts, a couple praises sighed into his ear, less than a minute of rubbing against the sheets, and Taehyung’s completely falling apart beneath him.

“I—“ He chokes out a helpless whimper when he feels the tight ball of heat start to unwind inside him. Everything in Taehyung wants to curl in on itself in order to bear the pressure threatening to leave him all at once. It’s an all consuming feeling, like a hurricane building up inside him and raging through his entire body.

“Open your eyes,” Jeongguk says, voice strangely soft while his hips pound into Taehyung. “Look at me.”

Taehyung blinks, dazed, teary eyes unfocused before they zero in on Jeongguk.

“Gotta make sure you know who’s making you feel like this.”

“Jeongguk.”

“That’s it, darling.” He kisses Taehyung’s shoulder, his teeth scraping over the skin. “Now come on. Come for me.”

So Taehyung does. It’s not like he’s got a choice, anyway. All the tightly wound tendrils of pleasure unfurl at once, and he’s feeling it everywhere, in his limbs, his stomach, he’s feeling it in his goddamn heart, and all he can do is keep looking at Jeongguk.

It’s never-ending, or so it seems. Instead of this big climax Taehyung’s used to, it’s shock wave after shock wave vibrating through him, one bigger than the other until they reach an apex, rendering his entire body motionless from the force of it.

Jeongguk fucks him through it, thrusts no slower but growing sloppier and sloppier. He’s the one to break their eye contact, leaning his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder blade as he curses and moans.

Even though Taehyung’s starting to feel too sensitive where he’s still grinding into his own sticky mess on Jeongguk’s shirt on the mattress, he keeps his hips tilted up slightly, giving Jeongguk a better angle.

“God, your ass,” Jeongguk groans, skimming a hand down Taehyung’s body to squeeze it.

His entire body buzzing with the aftermath of his orgasm, Taehyung lets out a satisfied hum, broken voice asking, “Wanna come on it?”

And that moan, that moan right there tumbling from Jeongguk’s lips — it might be the best thing Taehyung’s ever heard. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

The overstimulation against that sensitive spot inside Taehyung stops at once. Jeongguk pulls out, and the loss of his cock is so sudden it draws a tiny yelp from Taehyung as he clenches around nothing.

Jeongguk’s face remains half buried in his shoulder, but he brings a little bit of distance between their bodies in order to be able to move. Taehyung can feel and hear the way his hand is gliding over his cock, and it’s silly how much he misses feeling it inside of him already.

Lifting his chin so his mouth is next to Taehyung’s ear, Jeongguk gives his lobe a brief nip before rasping, “Hold yourself open for me.”

Arousal sparks through Taehyung again, originating from the sting of Jeongguk’s bite. He’s never come more than once during a hook-up, but he thinks Jeongguk might not even have to try that hard to get him there.

Twisting his arm, he reaches around himself to pull his right cheek to the side with one hand to expose his puckering, fucked-open hole.

“Yeah, like this,” Jeongguk breathes, the tip of his cock sliding along Taehyung’s rim. “Good, darling. Gonna come all over you.”

Heaps of shame and a little bit of regret of letting Jeongguk go draw a petulant kind of whine from Taehyung’s lips. He wasn’t prepared to feel so empty, so utterly needy to feel Jeongguk inside him again as soon as he’s gone.

“Please. Wanna feel you.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk asks roughly, slapping his weeping cock against Taehyung’s cheek.

“Mhm.” Taehyung perks his ass up a little more, acutely aware of how small his waist must look in comparison from Jeongguk’s point of view. He’s rewarded with another low groan. “Want it so badly. Fucked me so well, made me feel so good. Wanna feel you come on me.”

Jeongguk’s head falls forward, forehead leaning against the back of Taehyung’s neck. His breathing comes in heavy, hot pants, fanning down the length of his back.

“Please, Jeongguk,” Taehyung sighs. He wiggles his butt a little bit, just because he can, and also because the way Jeongguk’s entire body shudders against him makes his head spin. “Give it to me. Please.”

“Taehyung.” The word is nothing but a broken cry as it tumbles from Jeongguk’s lips, desperate and sensual and needy, and then he comes.

Taehyung feels it all over the swell of his ass, thick, warm spurts of wetness landing on his skin and trickling around the curves of his body. Eyes fluttering shut, he arches into it, happily listening to the sound of Jeongguk riding out his pleasure against him. He’s much louder than before, laboured breathing replaced by unabashed moans and high-pitched whimpers.

It’s so much, in every sense of the word, Taehyung can barely wrap his head around it.

With a final moan deafened against Taehyung’s neck, Jeongguk slaps his cock against his opening one last time, and Taehyung can feel a little bit of come dribble between his cheeks and slip past his rim. Immediately clenching around it, he whines, pushing his hips back in search of more.

“You like that?” Jeongguk asks, voice broken apart by his heaving breaths. “Want to have my come inside you?”

Weakly, Taehyung nods, his face rubbing against the sheets. He must look a complete mess; teary eyes, forehead damp with sweat, the lower half of his body shiny and sticky.

Letting go of his cock, Jeongguk swipes his index finger through the wetness pooling at the base of Taehyung’s spine. He drags it down between his cheeks until Taehyung can feel it slowly ooze into him.

“Good boy. Took it so well.” Jeongguk plants a clumsy kiss just below his ear. His hand trails up Taehyung’s body. “Open your mouth for me, darling.”

Obediently, Taehyung does, resting the tip of his tongue lazily against his bottom lip. His eyes are focused on Jeongguk’s face, all open and mesmerised, as he brings his index and middle finger, both shiny with his come, to Taehyung’s mouth.

“Suck.”

Without hesitation, Taehyung closes his lips around Jeongguk’s fingers, swirling his tongue around them. Hollowing his cheeks, he swallows, sighing at the bitter, slightly salty taste.

“Fuck.” Jeongguk’s voice is a breathy huff, caught somewhere between slight disbelief and pure fascination. Pulling his hand back, he lets more of his weight rest on Taehyung. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung’s heart gives another strong flutter in his chest. His brain is still too far gone to form coherent sentences of his own, so he just blinks innocently up at Jeongguk through his eyelashes, feeling the beginnings of a lazy smirk toying with the corners of his mouth as Jeongguk swears under his breath again before fully collapsing half on top of him.

The comedown is slow.

Taehyung’s got no idea how long they lie there, motionless, Jeongguk sagged heavily against him from behind, legs tangled together, panting.

All he knows is that he never wants it to end.

All the day’s exhaustion catches up to him at once. Suddenly, it seems impossible that just this morning, he had no clue how Jeongguk’s lips would feel against his own, and now he’s here, naked in his bed, touching all the way from their shoulders to their feet — and already, his taste is haunting him.

There’s no going back for him now.

Tiredness tugs heavily on his bones. His brain taps into this blissful state of relaxation that makes moving damn near impossible, and he really, really wishes they could stay like this forever.

Jeongguk’s heartbeat is gradually slowing down in time with his own, he can feel it where his chest is pressed up against his back. For the first time, his hand stays still where it’s casually resting against Taehyung’s jaw, no absent-minded caressing, no thumb drawing gentle patterns into his skin.

Taehyung likes him so much he’s fucking terrified of it.

A sinking feeling is starting to tug at the content weight settling in his core. He’s given too much of himself away, he’s opened up way too much. It’s like Jeongguk’s finally done it, he successfully cracked a tiny slither of a hole in Taehyung’s chest, and now Taehyung can’t help his heart from spilling out.

Jeongguk breathes out sharply through his nose behind him, and then he’s pushing himself up, away from Taehyung.

Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Taehyung forces himself to stay perfectly still, eyes focused straight ahead on one of Jeongguk’s pillows at the far end of the bed. Goosebumps rise on his arms and his back as Jeongguk scoots back, the mattress shifting as he gets to his feet.

Taehyung should move. He should sit up, find his clothes, and get his shit together. The thing he’s been fantasising about for weeks, it’s finally happened, and now they can go back to pretending to be boyfriends in the public eye without all this simmering sexual tension between them.

He hears a door opening behind him. The sound of a spray of water.

That one word is echoing through his head again. Maybe he was wrong in stopping Jeongguk from saying it. Maybe he needs to hear it from someone he’s come to trust to finally accept that’s all he’ll ever be.

The sound of Jeongguk’s feet padding across the wooden floor filters in, but it doesn’t really register in Taehyung’s head until the bed is moving beneath him again, and careful fingers are brushing his bangs away from his forehead.

“Hold still, alright?” Jeongguk says, but it’s not enough of a warning. Taehyung still flinches when there’s a damp cloth smoothing up the back of his thighs.

His brain clocks back into work at once, and it’s boosting into overdrive immediately, trying to make sense of the situation. Jeongguk’s fingertips are gentle, combing through his hair, while his other hand wipes the wash cloth all over Taehyung’s legs and back. He’s extra careful when he runs it over the curve of his ass, and Taehyung doesn’t really understand why — until he feels it.

The skin of his cheeks is tender and sore in the spots Jeongguk slapped him, and he doesn’t have to twist around to look to know he’s probably bruising down there.

Pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, Jeongguk murmurs, “Turn around for me, darling.”

Taehyung wants to cry. That tiny hole in his chest? — Yeah, he was wrong about that. There's a fucking canyon between his ribs, and his heart got wings.

When he doesn’t react, Jeongguk gently manhandles him into the right position. The sheets feel soft and cool against his naked body, but he has to stop himself from fully rolling onto his back, involuntarily hissing at the sharp pang of pain shooting up his spine when the skin of his butt makes contact with the mattress.

“Sorry.” Jeongguk brushes their noses together before crawling back a few inches in order to fold up the messy pile of fabric his shirt has turned into. Taehyung feels a near unbearable flash of heat race to his cheeks when he watches him chuck it straight into the hamper next to the door leading to the bathroom. “Spread your legs a little.”

Body entirely lax, he allows Jeongguk to clean him up. Here and there, tiny whimpers steal themselves away from behind his tightly-shut lips, and he’s not sure whether it’s because he’s feeling tender all over, or because he’s really fucking overwhelmed.

Jeongguk — sweet, sweet Jeongguk — seems blissfully oblivious to it all. His hands work dextrously, and once he's done — the cloth following the shirt on its way into the hamper — he lets himself fall back on the mattress, rolling around until his chest bumps into Taehyung's shoulder, and throws an arm around him.

Slowly, Taehyung shifts, careful to balance his weight more on the side of his body instead of his backside, and turns his head to look at Jeongguk. He finds him staring right back, eyes wide and trusting where they’re peering back at Taehyung.

“You okay?”

Absolutely not. I think I’m falling in love with you.

Mutely, Taehyung nods.

Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle. A small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth, and before Taehyung has time to prepare himself, he leans in, capturing his lips in a slow kiss. One of his hands smooths down the skin of Taehyung’s back, gently massaging the bottom of his spine with barely any pressure at all.

Taehyung feels so raw and open and cared for — he genuinely feels like he could start his own little impromptu sob fest. But Jeongguk’s mouth is soothing against his own, effectively drowning out each and every thought.

So Taehyung does the thing that comes most naturally for him: he pushes for more. His fingers tangle in Jeongguk’s hair at the back of his neck and find it slightly damp from sweat. Sighing contentedly, he shuffles a little closer, opening his lips a little more.

There’s absolutely no intent behind it. Taehyung doesn’t mean for the kiss to lead anywhere, not this time, and neither, it seems, does Jeongguk. He returns the languid movements of his lips just as tenderly, not a hint of teeth and only the tiniest bit of tongue.

It’s the kind of kiss that could lure secret confessions out of Taehyung.

Suddenly, an angry growl sounds between them.

With a smacking noise, Taehyung flinches back, eyes flying open. His first instinct is to look for Bam — he wouldn’t be surprised if the dog somehow figured out how to open doors; he seemed tall, smart, and mischievous enough — but then his gaze falls upon Jeongguk, who’s got one eye closed in a sort of goofy wink and his face twisted slightly in embarrassment.

The growl swells up again, this time sounding more like a deep rumble.

Taehyung blinks down at Jeongguk’s stomach. Momentarily distracted by the sight of his lean waist and toned muscles, it takes one, two seconds to glance back up.

Jeongguk’s pursing his lips, clearly waiting to have Taehyung’s attention on his face again. For a moment, he simply holds eye contact.

And then he suddenly surges forward, tipping Taehyung over onto his back and biting playfully at his neck.

Taehyung lets out a surprised yap that quickly turns into a squeal because Jeongguk’s teeth are tickling him. With scrambling arms, he tries to defend himself, pressing his palms flat against Jeongguk’s chest.

This doesn’t really help him in any way. But it doesn’t matter, because it appears Jeongguk’s already decided Taehyung doesn’t make for a good enough meal, or maybe he’s just savouring him, mouthing up the side of his throat and along the line of his jaw.

Without warning, Taehyung’s stomach gives a rumble of his own in response.

Giddiness bubbles up in him. It happens so suddenly and quickly, he can’t hold the giggle back when it presses against the back of his teeth.

Jeongguk bites his left cheek.

“Ow!” he shrieks. “My face is not food!”

“Hm.” Jeongguk doesn’t sound convinced. “If it’s not food,” he says, “why bread cheeks?”

“Excuse me?”

“A loaf.”

Taehyung can’t help but laugh.

Now that his cheeks are bunched up around a smile, Jeongguk pokes his index finger into the curve of it. “See.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Taehyung tells him matter-of-factly, and then, because he really can’t help it, he kisses him again.

Jeongguk returns it at once, his finger sliding from his face into his hair, taking some of the stray curls hanging into Taehyung’s eyes with it. It’s not as deep of a kiss as the ones before, and it quickly transitions into a series of playful pecks planted in quick succession against Taehyung’s lips.

“For real, though,” Jeongguk says, brushing their noses together. “Takeaway?”

Taehyung’s poor, growling stomach flips. “Um.”

“I mean, I’d cook for you, but” Jeongguk lets himself fall onto his back, stretching his legs, “it’s like midnight already and I honestly don’t have it in me to chop vegetables tonight.”

There’s nothing Taehyung can do except openly gape at him.

“But there’s this place just a few blocks away that makes the best Pho,” Jeongguk continues. “Or we could order pizza and watch something? There’s this one restaurant I really like, I think they’re open until like — You sure you’re okay?”

Taehyung’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging slightly open. He’s not really sure what he expected, but surely not this.

The thing is, he knows how this goes. He’s had countless hook-ups and situationships before. He’s even spent the night a couple of times or let them sleep over in his bed.

This, whatever it is Jeongguk’s doing, is not the typical etiquette.

It’s extremely overwhelming, and Taehyung doesn’t really know how to file through his emotions because they’re hitting him all at once, as if he’s walking head first into a brick wall. There’s a telltale prickle behind the bridge of his nose, and his throat feels oddly tight.

He’s not used to this. People usually don’t want him enough to keep him around.

“Are you cr—”

Before Jeongguk can finish speaking, before a tear can steal itself out of the corner of Taehyung’s eye, Taehyung leans in for another kiss. “Pizza’s good,” he mutters against Jeongguk’s lips.

***

So pizza it is.

After opening the delivery app on his phone, Jeongguk hands the device to Taehyung and lets him place the order as he rolls out of bed to wander into his closet. A minute or so later, he returns, pulling a pair of boxershorts over his hips and tossing another pair onto the mattress.

Taehyung’s rolled onto his stomach, curling his mouth from side to side as he contemplates whether to get garlic bread with his order. His heart screams yes but his desire to keep kissing Jeongguk tells him otherwise.

Placing a hand on either side of his body, Jeongguk brackets him in, peering over his shoulder as his lips plant another seemingly absent-minded kiss against the skin of Taehyung’s back. He’s still for a moment, and then his right hand comes up, finger tapping the little + symbol next to the bread.

That’s settled, then.

The time it takes for the food to get to them is spent wrapped up in one another’s arms. It’s honestly quite silly and a little embarrassing, just how much Taehyung likes kissing Jeongguk. He feels a little bit like he’s thirteen again, having to break for air every so often because he just can’t stop.

They eat in their underwear in the light of the mood lamp. Jeongguk busts out a small projector which he can apparently connect to his phone, and soon there’s some bad sitcom playing on the white wall opposite his bed.

Taehyung has no idea what the show is even about. He also isn’t sure about the pizza — like he’s sure it’s good, probably, but he’s more interested in how soon he can kiss Jeongguk again.

But it’s actually Jeongguk who momentarily pushes the cardboard box out of the way in order to lean in and press their lips together again.

Once the food is demolished, Jeongguk gets up from the bed, opens his bedroom door, and whistles for Bam to come inside. Paws scrambling against he floor, the dog gallops into the room, hopping onto the mattress.

Taehyung reaches his hands out for him, immediately starting to caress the fur on his neck. “Hi, there you are again, sweet boy! Are you allowed in here?”

“He’s my little cuddlebug,” Jeongguk comments as he kicks his door shut with the heel of his foot. “And the bed’s big enough anyway.” He lets himself fall back into bed, nuzzling his nose against Bam’s ear before reaching for his phone.

Taehyung watches him yawn as he scrolls through his list of alarms.

“Busy day tomorrow?” he asks, shifting restlessly in his seat. He’s got his legs crossed beneath his body, Bam’s head resting comfortably against his right thigh, and he should really stop wiggling around so much, because his butt definitely still hurts.

In a kind of twisted way, he likes it.

“Nah.” Jeongguk shakes his head slightly, his thumb jumping back and forth between 8:30 and 9 AM. “Got practice for most of the day. You?”

“Meeting at 4,” Taehyung says. He weighs his head from side to side. “I think.”

Jeongguk cracks a small smile at him. Reaching out, he gentle rubs the spot behind one of Bam’s ears before laying his hand down casually on Taehyung’s leg close to his bare knee. “Wanna come along?”

“What, to practice?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk shrugs. His finger swipes down from the top of the screen, showing the picture of Bam he’s set as his lock screen and a number of missed notifications. He ignores them all. “It’s been a while since Tokyo. They miss you. I think Seoho’s got this secret evil masterplan to steal you from me.”

For just a second, Taehyung’s tired brain struggles to slip into work mode. But Jeongguk’s right, it would probably be good to show his face again around his friends.

“Isn’t that more a reason to not bring me there?”

“What, you don’t want me to act all possessive over you?”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung tries to mask the way his hammering heart is making him blush. “Fine,” he relents instead, concentrating on trying to convince Bam to allow him to give him belly rubs. “I’ll come to watch you kick a ball.”

Jeongguk hums happily, index finger drawing swirling patterns on the skin of Taehyung’s thigh. “We’re leaving at ten.”

At once, Taehyung pauses. Stares. Tries not to stumble over his next words. “You, um. You want me to stay? Sleep here, I mean?”

It takes a while for Jeongguk to react to the question. Almost like it hasn’t occurred to him at all — until now. Putting his phone face down on the mattress, he pushes up into more of an upright position, the moody lighting dancing over the lines and edges of his body as he moves closer to Taehyung. “Do you want to leave?”

It’s a little mean, handing it back to Taehyung like that. But Taehyung catches the sudden tremble of hesitation weighing down his words, and it comforts him a little bit. He might be severely out of his depth here, but maybe Jeongguk is, too.

“No.”

“I want you to stay.”

So Taehyung stays.

Chapter Text

Kim Taehyung has three fundamental rules when it comes to hooking up with someone.

One, hands off anyone from work – business and pleasure never ever mix well. Two, no lingering – the deed is done, pack up your things and leave. Three, don’t, under any circumstances, catch feelings.

Easy enough. Absolutely foolproof.

Or so he’d thought. Because last night, he failed all of them.

Slowly, he blinks his eyes open.

The room he’s in is tinged in soft morning light falling in through the narrow crack between the curtains in front of the window. It’s the dawn of another bright and sunny day, summer hitting its sweltering peak mid August. The air is a little stuffy, the slight leftover smell of greasy pizza almost palpable against the bare skin of his body.

Cautiously, he shifts in place. Sleep is tightly clinging to him still, and the sheets feel impossibly soft and cosy where they’re tangled around his knees. With a content sigh, he lets his eyes flutter shut again. He doesn’t remember his bed ever being this comfortable.

Which is precisely when the realisation hits.

His brain stumbles, scrambling desperately as it suddenly notices all the errors in the picture. First of all, this is not his bed. Not his room either.

And then he remembers.

His eyes snap back open. At once, he’s fully awake. It feels as if someone emptied a bucket of ice water over him, the pleasant exhaustion weighing down his senses and making his head feel all floaty and disoriented washed off in an instant. He lets his gaze wander across the room, promptly jumping when it meets the intense stare of Bam, who’s curled up on his cloud pillow by the window, patiently waiting for someone to rouse from sleep.

Flashes of the previous night come back to him quickly one after the other. Jeongguk – his hands on him, his cheeks, his waist, his ass, so sure of themselves as they pressed and pulled and slapped, yet also so gentle, careful with him in a way no one else’s ever been. His lips, so soft and needy, never denying him another one of those kisses he’s been waiting for for months. And his voice. The echo of his breathing, his moans, resonates in Taehyung’s ears.

Gonna ruin you for everyone else.

Unbearable heat rises to Taehyung’s cheeks. He turns his head, briefly hiding his face in the pillow he’s been sleeping on.

Suddenly, there’s movement behind him. Gentle pressure against his stomach.

Holding his breath, Taehyung risks a glance downwards. What he discovers makes him want to bury his face right back in that pillow. A tattooed arm is draped possessively over his middle, firmly keeping him close, and when he leans back experimentally, he feels Jeongguk’s warm chest against his back, rising and sinking with calm, even breaths.

God.

Taehyung can’t really do anything but stare for a long moment. There’s just something about seeing Jeongguk’s forearm wrapped so snugly around his waist, intricately inked skin a stark contrast to the unblemished tan of his own. Taehyung’s hands itch to move, to trace each individual design, map them out and commit them to memory.

Shit.

He screws his eyes shut again. Just for a moment. Allows himself a split-second long mental breakdown.

Fuck fuck fuck.

His heart is boosting into overdrive, from zero to a hundred real fast, thumping against his rib cage with so much force it hurts. In a futile attempt at composing himself, he releases a long, shallow breath through his mouth. 

He’s really messed up, hasn’t he. 

Hook-ups are one thing. Sleeping with someone he’s technically in a work relationship with… not ideal, but he can excuse that, it’s fine, whatever, it happens. Even the whole staying overnight thing – if he remembers correctly, he tried to leave, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he? Granted, not very hard, but that’s just because –

Because this isn’t a hook-up to him. It has never been, not from the moment he’d first felt that mutual spark of genuine attraction between him and Jeongguk. Taehyung’s never wanted him only once, not ever since he noticed the sound of Jeongguk’s laugh makes his palms sweaty and his heart flutter. He’d known. He’d known, but he’d acted none the wiser anyway, and now his brain is doing that thing, that thing where it’s laying out one crystal clear fact after the other until they form one undeniable realisation:

He likes Jeongguk. And he likes him a whole damn lot more than planned.

A small stutter of his heart. The slight drop of his stomach. Taehyung screws his eyes shut as an unpleasant jitter runs down his spine. It’s almost as if his body is unable to take it anymore, physically begging him to cut the lies.

He swallows around the lump quickly forming in his throat and opens his eyes again. Fine, he’ll face it. He’s done it – despite knowing better, he’s gone ahead and done the stupid thing and let himself fall for Jeongguk. And it’s too late now, he’s long zoomed past the point of no return. There’s no catching himself anymore.

He’s in love.

From across the room, Taehyung feels Bam’s gaze silently judging him. And he gets it, he really does. He’d regard himself with the same unimpressed yet slightly pitying stare if he could.

But his feelings are traitors. Jeongguk sighs softly behind him, and that catapults him right back to square one. He’s got him all wrapped up in his arms and his nose is buried in the hair at the back of Taehyung’s neck and it feels so nice and good, and it’s doing Taehyung’s head in, the implication of it all.

A word appears in his mind like a shooting star, its burning tail so full of hope. It’s gone in a blip, but Taehyung caught it. A couple – they’re acting as if they’re a freaking couple. Boyfriends.

And that’s it. He’s properly, utterly, royally fucked. Taehyung doesn’t do boyfriends. He doesn’t do boyfriends in the same way he doesn’t do late night phone calls and dinner dates and cheesy Instagram posts that make his heart jump up into his throat.

He doesn’t do boyfriends – unless it’s Jeongguk.

It’s too much. This thought, it makes a hot and cold shiver of panic rush down his spine. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. It’s like now that he’s fully acknowledged what his silly little crush has grown into, the jumbled up feelings of attraction and affection hit him twice as intense.

In that moment, it’s almost as if he can feel the last one of the protective walls he’s built around his heart crumble and break down. And then he’s there, just him, no more defences, all open and vulnerable.

It’s terrifying. He’s overwhelmed. He needs to clear his head.

Pushing strength into his limbs, he scoots forward on the mattress. This is fine. He’s not gonna lose it in Jeongguk’s bed, in Jeongguk’s freaking arms, of all places, and not because of a simple word.

Boyfriends.

He needs to get a grip on himself, and he needs to get it fast.

Problem is: Jeongguk does not agree with this plan of his whatsoever. As soon as Taehyung dares bring an inch of distance between them, his hand flexes where it's splayed across Taehyung’s stomach, and he’s pulling him back in, a tiny noise of disapproval muttered against the skin of Taehyung’s neck.

With little to no chance to put up a fight, Taehyung has no choice but to let himself be manhandled back into place. Completely against his will, fondness stretches his lips into a soft smile. The butterflies in his belly are going wild, but they seem almost tame against the storm of doubt and fear raging in his head.

But then, as Jeongguk snuggles up to him even closer, the length of his body solid behind Taehyung, it’s as if his embrace is the antidote to all those unsettling emotions. There’s a sense of calmness and safety spreading through Taehyung, originating from the spot on his stomach where Jeongguk’s thumb has started drawing slow, slightly disfigured circles, and maybe, just maybe, if this is commitment, then it might not be all that bad.

Don’t get used to this.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But if he’s realised one thing over the past few months it’s that he’s not good at making smart, self-preserving choices when it comes to Jeongguk. It’s like Taehyung looks at him, sees his wide, honest eyes, feels his tender touch, and all rational thought goes out the window.

God, he’s a total goner, isn’t he.

Breathing in deeply, he nuzzles back into Jeongguk’s arms, leaning his back against his chest. Skin on skin has never felt this good, this innocent and pure and comfortable. Maybe, he muses, they can just stay like this forever; no jobs, no careers, followers, likes, articles or posts – just them.

A low hum sounds from Jeongguk behind him, and then Taehyung feels the gentle press of his mouth against a bump of his spine at the base of his neck. Jeongguk shuffles even closer, makes sure there’s not a millimetre of space between their bodies, and when he brings his hips snug with the curve of Taehyung’s butt, he lets out another barely audible sigh that causes goosebumps to erupt on Taehyung’s arms.

Taehyung opens his mouth, trying his best to ignore the dry, bitter taste clinging to his tongue. It’s hard to tell if Jeongguk’s awake or not. He contemplates whispering his name, but ultimately decides against it and shuts his lips again. If Jeongguk’s not awake he doesn’t want to accidentally startle him and make him stop whatever this is turning into.

Another kiss, this time placed to that little hollow spot beneath Taehyung’s ear. It lingers, too, feels somehow warmer than the previous one. A tingle shoots up Taehyung’s temple, and then that mind-numbing feeling is tugging on his overworking brain again, just like last night. He allows his body to go a little more lax in Jeongguk’s hold, pliant where he’s slowly starting to press into him, eyes becoming heavier and heavier.

And then Jeongguk’s fucking hand starts moving.

The light tickle of his fingertips over the softness of his belly causes Taehyung to glance down – and that truly fucks him up. The way Jeongguk’s hand smooths over him is a little clumsy and uncoordinated, movements clearly navigated by sleepiness, but still insistent and committed, as if this is the first time he gets to touch.

When he traces the dip of Taehyung’s waist, there’s a sharp inhale coming from him, and Taehyung can hear it and he can feel it right against his neck. Jeongguk’s grip grows a little harder then, squeezing the curve of Taehyung’s body once before dragging his fingers further down to his hips. 

It’s a silly, absurd thought, but Taehyung finds himself wishing there was a way for Jeongguk to leave actual fingerprints behind.

There’s motion in his hips now as well. It’s barely noticeable, but Taehyung can feel them starting to press against him a little harder.

He’d do something about it – God, he really wants to, wants to wiggle around and make sure Jeongguk enters full consciousness with a kiss – but he kind of can’t tear his eyes away from Jeongguk’s stupid fingers with their stupid tattoos so close to the waistband of his underwear, thumb brushing over his skin so softly it tickles a little.

It does something to Taehyung, this whole thing. How Jeongguk touches him, still mostly asleep, with so much confidence and certainty. As if he already knows what’s his and no one else’s.

It makes Taehyung’s head spin.

And then everything becomes really hot really fast.

The next kiss is an open-mouthed one and Jeongguk’s lips just stay attached to his skin. His hips move more deliberately, drawing out very small, very tight circles as they push forward. He’s making noises, choked little sounds from the back of his throat muffled directly into Taehyung’s body, and that alone is enough for the little bit of sanity Taehyung’s built up overnight to shrivel up and dissipate into nothingness again.

Well. To have Jeon Jeongguk sleepily dry hump you at ass o’clock in the morning – what a way to wake up. Good fucking morning.

Two of Jeongguk’s fingers dip under the waistband of the pair of boxers Taehyung’s wearing.

A tiny whimper stumbles out of Taehyung’s mouth before he sucks in a breath in anticipation. All the heat drains from his cheeks in order to rush south at once.

Jeongguk’s touch feels teasing, although Taehyung doubts he means to be. There’s still no clear indication of whether he’s awake or not, the puffy little breaths and stuttering movements of his hands and hips no clear tell, and at this point Taehyung is too intrigued to find out.

He watches as Jeongguk’s fingers brush over the sensitive skin hidden under Taehyung’s underwear, inching closer and closer to the spot between his legs that’s growing increasingly interested in the situation, and Taehyung finds he can’t do this, he won’t survive actually seeing Jeongguk – asleep or not – push his boxershorts out of the way and wrapping his hand around him, there’s no way, it’s too fucking much.

Releasing the shaky breath he’d had sucked into his lungs, his gaze jumps up.

And meets Bam. Again.

He’s making eye contact with the dog. Again.

Except this time, he’s got Jeongguk’s hand down his pants, and he’s about two seconds away from popping a boner, and even though he is pretty certain Bam has no understanding of what exactly it is they’re doing – well, Taehyung’s still not very keen on the idea of the innocent dog watching him come undone in Jeongguk’s arms.

To his surprise, there is only very little resistance from Jeongguk when he rolls out of bed. His arms are tight around Taehyung’s initial shuffle, but they don’t hold onto him when he gets up for real. 

Taehyung flinches when his fingers slip out of his boxers and the waistband snaps sharply back against his skin. For a moment, Jeongguk’s arm stays up in the air, his hand weakly grasping after him before thumping down on the sheets with a muffled thud. Standing a couple feet away from the mattress, his toes curling into the soft rug on the floor, Taehyung watches as he lets out a small whine of discontent before rolling onto his stomach and pushing his head underneath the nearest pillow.

Taehyung’s heart aches. Jeongguk’s so incredibly cute, especially when he’s sleepy. And then there’s also the bare expanse of his back, the defined muscles, the way his tattoos spread out far over his shoulder almost all the way to his spine, and Taehyung still doesn’t fully get it, how just looking at him can make him feel so many different things.

It takes a genuine amount of willpower to remove himself from the situation. For a few seconds, he’s rooted to the spot, debating just hopping back into bed – sorry, Bam – and snuggling up to Jeongguk once again, but then the dog is getting up from his sleeping spot, expectant eyes on Taehyung.

Fine, so Taehyung’s going. He doesn’t have a precise plan where to, but he’s feeling extremely thirsty, so he should probably take care of that.

As he sneaks out of the room, Bam trots after him. He bumps his wet nose briefly into Taehyung’s naked thigh before scampering off past him and happily grabbing one of the chew toys lying about in the hallway and promptly going to town on it.

Taehyung pads through the apartment on bare feet. It’s such a pretty place, he finds. He’s taken a good look at the interior the night before, yes, but he’d been severely distracted by a very willing Jeongguk pulling him along to his room, plus the space looks wholly different in daylight. There’s much more detail for Taehyung to uncover.

In the living room, the digital clock by the massive flatscreen flips to six o’clock sharp just in time as he glances at it. The room is furnished in a sleek, modern style, straight lines, corners, and edges, deep, elegant deep colours that make everything look as high quality and expensive as it probably had been upon purchase. Looking at the couch alone – and discovering it has a freaking massaging function – Taehyung doesn’t want to imagine how much it must’ve cost.

But there are so many personal touches here and there, too. It looks so homely, everything rendered extra soft and warm by the yellow hue of sunlight. The coffee table is a mess just like it had been the evening before, but it looks like two additional wine glasses have appeared on it since Taehyung’s last seen it. By the gaming set up underneath the tv, there’s a framed picture of the small white dog he now knows was Gureum, a small electrical tea light beside it and a flower in a vase. In one corner of the room stands a cabinet that’s almost bursting with action figures and other collectibles. Among more picture frames mounted to the wall, a silly chalkboard tells Taehyung JIN has won a total of seventeen Mario Kart races, whereas #loser only has nine wins to show for himself.

Taehyung has to bite his lip in order to keep from grinning. His stomach is swooping wildly, just imagining Jeongguk’s happy, scrunched up face when he wins, and his petulant huffs and puffs when he loses.

He feels giddy, bouncy on his feet, like a lovesick teenager, and his mind is still stuck on the image of barely-awake Jeongguk making grabby hands after him, and it’s making him freaking blush. Even the air condition cooling down the apartment to the point of being almost chilly doesn’t help with the heat rising to his cheeks.

He really needs to get that glass of water. And he’s hoping Jeongguk’s got ice in his fridge, for good measure.

Nodding to himself, Taehyung rounds the corner towards the adjacent kitchen and – stops immediately.

The space is very wide, but not empty. There's a cabinet stocked up with expensive alcohol to his left, and another one holding exclusively wine glasses right next to it. The counters as well as the kitchen island are clean-cut, white marble and dark wood.

But that’s not what’s making Taehyung halt in his tracks. No, the thing is this: there’s a man half bent over the countertop next to the fridge, very broad, very strong, very naked back facing Taehyung. 

Feet stopping on the threshold, he tilts his head to the side. Right, that’s the thing about a shared flat – someone else lives here besides Jeongguk.

But the man happily humming to himself as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he reaches an arm up to open a cupboard is not Seokjin, Taehyung doesn’t have to do a double take to confirm that. The person taking an oddly long amount of time carefully choosing two coffee mugs and taking them from their shelf is definitely not Jeongguk’s older brother.

It’s Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung feels his mouth drop open. It must look comical, him standing there in just his underwear with his bedhead as he puts two and two together. A wave of delight washes through him, making him push up on his tiptoes for just a second.

“Oh my God,” he mouths. Silently. To himself. Because this is great, this is awesome, this is drama. He’s almost positive Jeongguk’s got no idea this is happening behind his back, and what kind of fake boyfriend slash one-night stand slash fuck-if-he-knows would he be if he didn’t immediately turn on his heel and tell him the glorious news.

Except.

Namjoon places both mugs on a metal tray under the fanciest coffee machine Taehyung’s ever seen and dials a number of buttons. Shortly after, the machine sets to work, and the potent smell of ground coffee beans hits Taehyung straight on, making him scowl, and that’s when he decides hey, actually wait, he’s not done having fun here.

He just wants to see the utterly dumbfounded expression taking over Namjoon’s face when he’s caught practically in the act, alright. Like, come on, what’s this, making breakfast for two with the certainty and confidence of someone who frequents this kitchen? There’s no way this has been a one-time hook-up.

Something tells Taehyung Jeongguk’s going to absolutely hate this. And man, what can he do, he just loves a good scene. In his defence, it kind of comes along with his job, and also he’s best friends with Park Jimin, self-proclaimed gossip king.

On bare feet, he saunters forward, jaw and shoulders completely relaxed, arms swinging by his sides.

And then doubt hits him.

What if Jeongguk’s just like his older brother and doesn’t want anyone to know he’s spent the night with someone? What if Namjoon sees him here and thinks they’re suddenly seriously involved with one another?

His stomach churns nervously. They’re not, right? Seriously involved. Not any more than before, at least. He needs to get that out of his head before it can take root in there. The fact that he’s gone on a journey – more like a speed race – of realising he’s maybe probably definitely in love with his childhood enemy turned PR stunt doesn’t mean he’s stupid enough to let himself hope Jeongguk feels the same way.

But there’s no time for overthinking. He’s arrived at the fridge now. Lifting one arm, he reaches for the door handle, and he sees the precise moment his hand enters Namjoon’s peripheral field of vision. His head jerks up so suddenly and with so much force, Taehyung can almost hear the joints in his neck crack. At once, his eyes become wide as saucers. They look about half a second away from completely bulging out of his skull, and they flick up and down Taehyung’s face and body several times as if they can’t decide whether what they’re seeing is real or a hallucination.

Yep, there’s no way his and Seokjin’s relationship isn’t a secret, that much is sure. Namjoon’s face looks like it could be a stock photo for the google image search for ‘oh, crap.’

Barely holding a grin at bay, Taehyung raises his free hand to his temple, sending a brief salute Namjoon’s way before pulling on the door of the fridge and focusing on its insides as if nothing’s wrong. It’s stocked up and pretty organised, the fridge, and Taehyung only hesitates for a second or two when his fingers skim over the top shelf holding bottled water and canned beer before ultimately settling for the water.

When he pushes the door back closed, emitting a small rattle from some of the glassware stowed away on the inside of the door, he finds Namjoon, unchanged in his stance, still staring at him. It’s absolutely hilarious, he looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Taehyung gives him a smile; honey sweet and warm, he even lets his eyes crinkle. And then he lets his gaze flick down to the counter towards the mugs sitting underneath the coffee machine. They’re filled with a creamy coffee blend now, and Taehyung doesn’t like coffee, but who cares, that’s not the point.

With a nonchalant shrug, he grabs one of the mugs with his free hand. Taking a couple steps backwards in the direction he came from, he toasts Namjoon with both his beverages before turning around and walking out the kitchen, hips swaying a little more sassily than usual and giggles barely kept locked away behind his closed lips.

Bam has migrated to the mattress in front of the couch in the living room, and he’s rolled onto his back and likely passed out cold again — at least he doesn’t react when Taehyung traipses by on naked feet.

He finds his way back to Jeongguk’s room and pushes the handle down with his elbow — careful not to spill any of the coffee — before nudging the door open with his hip.

Inside, the view is different from the one he left behind. Jeongguk’s sitting more or less upright in bed, propped up on one elbow and with one hand buried in the strands of his messy hair. His brows draw together in a deep frown, and there’s a pout on his lips.

Taehyung kicks the door shut with his foot.

Jeongguk’s eyes jump towards him. For a moment, he squints, and then the wrinkles on his forehead smooth over at once. His chest sinks with a heavy exhale. “Hey.”

The flutter in Taehyung’s chest is so strong it makes his arms tremble. A little bit of the coffee spills over the brim, a caramel coloured drop sliding down the ceramic until it pools at the side of Taehyung’s thumb. It’s not fair Jeongguk’s morning voice is so hot, and it sounds extra sexy when it’s breathy with the sound of relief.

“Hi.” Ignoring how small and careful his voice sounds in the quiet room, Taehyung saunters closer to the bed. He forces a deep inhale in through his nose, and he really hopes Jeongguk doesn’t notice how ragged his breathing sounds. He’s trying to come across as casual here, absolutely chill — as chill as someone can be after realising they don’t want their fake boyfriend to be so fake anymore.

Jeongguk looks a little surprised when Taehyung cautiously holds the mug out for him, but he scoots a little to the side and sits up more anyway to take it from him. “Where’d you get that?”

“Kitchen.”

The glare Jeongguk directs at him over the edge of the mug makes him grin. It also makes him nauseous, because at once, the butterflies in his belly are back and wide awake as ever.

Instead of elaborating further, he just shrugs, twisting the lid off his water bottle. He takes a few quick sips, letting the last one slosh around his mouth for a bit longer to get rid of the disgusting taste clinging to his tongue.

He feels Jeongguk’s gaze on him. It feels heavy and almost lazy, like thick molasses slowly trickling down his naked skin, from his jaw over his neck to his chest and stomach. He’s pretty sure Jeongguk’s unaware of his unabashed staring, and he’s not planning on calling him out for it. Nothing like being shamelessly ogled to boost his self-confidence back to where it used to be.

Jeongguk drags his eyes back up Taehyung’s body, and Taehyung notices how they get stuck on his collarbones for a moment. Even as goosebumps of excitement rise on his arms and the back of his neck, he files this information away for another point in time (hopefully soon).

His lips are glistening wet from the water when he lowers the bottle to put the lid back on. He watches as Jeongguk’s mouth falls open the tiniest bit, his gaze filled with a mix of appraisal and what Taehyung thinks might be vulnerability.

And then, at once, he snaps himself out of it. Adjusts the mug in his hand and bends his neck to drink from it.

With a flame ablaze somewhere low in his belly, Taehyung waits until he's got his lips sufficiently wrapped around the brim of the ceramic, tipping it slightly back to taste the coffee. And then he says, “So. Do you know your brother’s fucking your coach?”

Promptly, Jeongguk chokes. Coughing, he rips the mug away from his face. Some of the coffee spills onto the sheets, dotting them with large dark blotches. “What?”

It takes everything in Taehyung not to burst out laughing. “Or the other way around.” He pulls his shoulders up and purses his lips in thought. “I didn’t ask.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I just met him in the kitchen.” Feigning innocence, Taehyung points his thumb in the general direction of the hallway.

“Who?”

“Namjoon,” Taehyung says. Pauses. Adds, “He was making coffee.”

Silence. Jeongguk blinks, slowly. His gaze drops to the mug in his hands. For a few seconds, he stares at it, and it might be the funniest thing Taehyung’s ever witnessed, watching the dots connect in his brain.

Once they do, Jeongguk’s up and running. He tosses the sheets back and hastily places the coffee on the nightstand next to Taehyung’s left thigh, and Taehyung’s too distracted by the glorious sight of so much bare skin to react right away.

Jeongguk’s almost made it all the way out of bed, both feet planted firmly on the ground, by the time he sets into motion. He jumps to the right, placing both palms against Jeongguk’s shoulders and pushing back with all his might as he tries standing up.

“Hey!” Thrown off balance, one of Jeongguk’s hands closes around Taehyung’s forearm, pulling him down with him. Taehyung staggers, his other arm and left knee coming up to steady himself against the mattress.

“What are you doing?”

Huffing, Jeongguk lets go of him in order to scoot back on the mattress, clearly searching for another way out. “Seeing for myself.”

“No.” Not thinking, Taehyung crawls after him. His body is hovering mere inches above Jeongguk’s, and he’s placing his palm to his chest now, keeping him in place with his back against the headboard. “You’re not.”

Jeongguk looks up at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not,” Taehyung says, serious even though a giggle is threatening to burst out of him any second now. “But I’m not letting you barge into your brother’s love nest and scar yourself forever.”

“Oh God, ew. Ew.” Jeongguk squirms underneath him, so much that Taehyung has to shift in his position, placing one leg on either side of him until he’s practically straddling Jeongguk’s hips. “Do not say that. Never call it that again.”

“Love nest?”

Jeongguk lets out a pained whine, face twisting in disgust. “Shut the fuck up.” He shudders. “Please.”

Yeah, Taehyung’s definitely in love with him.

The thought never fails to paralyse him for at least a couple seconds, and that’s precisely what’s happening right now. Jeongguk sits up a little more, his chest pushing against the palm of Taehyung’s hand — it’s really annoying how solid and firm it feels beneath his touch — causing Taehyung’s arm to bend at the elbow. And then, suddenly, he finds himself nose to nose with Jeongguk, and every joking word to spin the mockery further dissipates at the tip of his tongue.

Jeongguk raises his brows. His mouth quirks into a lopsided smirk, and his eyes briefly drop to Taehyung’s mouth, as if he’s genuinely surprised Taehyung’s not shooting a witty comeback his way for once.

And Taehyung can’t help it, okay? Not many things render him speechless, but Jeongguk’s managed quite a few times now.

He’s not prepared when Jeongguk pulls his legs up just a bit, causing him to slide further forward in his lap, and he’s even less prepared for the touch of Jeongguk’s index and middle finger at his chin, his thumb at his bottom lip. “Look at you doing as I say.”

Thankfully, that’s the moment Taehyung finds his voice again. Before it can tumble out of him in the form of a squeak, he quickly tweaks it to match the low tone Jeongguk’s using on him now. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Jeongguk digs his thumb a little harder into his bottom lip, forcing his mouth to stay slightly open. The very tip of it is touching Taehyung’s tongue now, and Taehyung can taste the saltiness of his skin, and it’s driving him insane all over again.

“All I gotta do is say please?”

Curling his fingers, Taehyung lets his hand drop from Jeongguk’s chest down to his stomach, greedily feeling the rippled muscle. His lids feel impossibly heavy all of a sudden, but he forces his eyes to stay open as he says, “Try it.”

But of course, Jeongguk doesn’t. He already knows he’ll get his way. It’s insufferable. He lets out a tiny huff that barely passes for laughter, and then that stupid crooked grin is back, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Taehyung’s insides. It doesn’t last for long though, because then his fingers are flexing, rough where they press into Taehyung’s jaw, and he’s pulling him closer, closer, closer, sealing their mouths together.

There’s no time for Taehyung to steady himself. He lets himself get dragged forward, Jeongguk’s touch even more confident and firm now that he’s fully awake.

The hand not digging into the side of Taehyung’s face smooths up his thigh, rides up the leg of his boxer shorts until it’s bunched up almost all the way up at the seam of his hip, and then it slides up further to his waist. It’s maddening, just how well it fits there, as if they’re made to touch.

A moan stumbles out of Taehyung when Jeongguk squeezes his waist, gently forcing his body into a more pronounced curve. Jeongguk swallows it right up; he stops the rhythm of his lips and simply holds their mouths open against one another, letting Taehyung whimper directly into his mouth.

Sweet desire unfurls in Taehyung. His head feels woozy, like it’s stuck somewhere up in the clouds, and he feels himself melt under Jeongguk’s touch.

“Thought I’d made you up,” Jeongguk murmurs, mouthing over the line of Taehyung’s jaw and giving it a short nibble.

“Wha–ah,” Taehyung starts, but he’s cut off by Jeongguk’s hand – the one that had been holding him in place by his chin – falling down to his neck, his throat, thumb skimming over the bulge of his Adam’s apple.

Jeongguk presses his lips to the hollow spot beneath his ear and sucks. His hand finds its place at the base of his neck, thumb on one side, the other four fingers fanned out on the other. There’s no pressure, but there could be, and Taehyung can’t fucking take it anymore.

He lets his body sag forward, heavily leaning into Jeongguk while his head lolls back, eyes drooping shut.

“When I woke up and you weren’t here,” Jeongguk drags his mouth back up, his teeth skirting over the lobe of Taehyung’s ear, before he says, “I thought I’d dreamed you.”

Taehyung can’t help it. He’s got no more control over his own body, at least that’s what it feels like. Maybe the butterflies have taken the wheel now, he doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t care, the only thing he’s absolutely certain of is that he’s going to die if he doesn’t feel Jeongguk’s lips on his own again right now.

He drags his hands up over Jeongguk’s body, all the way until he can bury them in his hair, and then he yanks him back, angles his head up and dips his own down to wrap him up in another kiss.

Jeongguk hums, sounding equal parts appreciative and just as wrecked as Taehyung feels. His hands disappear from Taehyung’s neck and waist and instead come to his hips, urging him even nearer until their bodies are completely flush against one another.

It’s a heady, almost surreal sensation, the way Taehyung instantly loses himself to the feeling, completely yielding to each and every push and pull of Jeongguk’s lips.

He’s never felt this way before. He likes being submissive, likes the kick he gets out of the illusion of his partner having power and authority over him, likes challenging said power and authority like nothing else – but he’s never felt so desperate for someone they could have him any way they wanted with no objections and no second thought.

It’s scary – terrifying, really – to be this open, this vulnerable so quickly, but… it’s Jeongguk.

And Taehyung’s got no idea when this happened, when that had become enough of a reason and an explanation, when he’d started trusting Jeongguk so blindly, but if the way he’s kissing him now, deep and passionate and good, is his reward, then maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

“Wha’time’s it?” Jeongguk pants in the split second their lips aren’t touching. His fingers are toying with the hem of Taehyung’s underwear, pushing it down but never dipping underneath.

“Early,” Taehyung says, diving in for another kiss.

Jeongguk returns it with no hesitation, sucking Taehyung’s bottom lip into his mouth before biting it gently but with enough strength to have Taehyung shivering against him. “How early?”

Groaning, Taehyung arches his back a little more, his butt pushing out further into the grip of Jeongguk’s hands. “Really fucking early,” he mumbles, not bothering to stop the kiss to get the words out. He can’t, he doesn’t care, and surely Jeongguk will get what he’s trying to say. “Want you.”

Jeongguk brings the tiniest bit of distance between their faces and brushes their noses together. “Already have me.”

The way he says it, low but not quite a whisper, so pure and honest, leaving no room for false interpretations – it kind of makes Taehyung want to cry.

But he doesn’t, no, instead he leans in again, peppering kisses all over Jeongguk’s cheek, over the hinge of his jaw, and down his neck. He nibbles on the skin at the side of his throat and when he feels Jeongguk giving the faintest nod above him, he sucks it into his mouth.

He’s been itching to replace the hickeys for forever, and now it’s about time he finally does.

Jeongguk goes absolutely boneless beneath him, and that might just be the greatest feeling in the entire world.

It’s clear that he’s not even trying to hold onto his composure like he did in the hotel room in Tokyo; no, this time he’s right where Taehyung wants him from the get go. He sighs and bares his neck and squeezes Taehyung’s hips so hard it feels like they’re going to bruise.

Taehyung’s not holding back either. Quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a flying fuck if Yoongi threatens him again for making it look like someone tried to choke the life out of the best player on his team. He lets his mouth wander, leaves a trail of love bites – some a faint pink, some quickly darkening into a sinful shade of violet – all the way from behind his ear down to his collarbone. His fingers greedily explore whatever they can reach, smoothing up Jeongguk’s arms, tracing some swirls of the tattoo on his shoulder, skimming down the line between his abs, and sneaking under the waistband of his boxers.

“Darling,” Jeongguk says, breathless, and well fuck, now it’s truly game over for Taehyung.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t know what exactly he’s agreeing to, but there are a lot of things he’d say yes to right now.

It’s slower this time, quieter, but no less passionate with just the right amount of neediness. Jeongguk strips them both off what little clothes they’re wearing, and then he keeps Taehyung in his lap, hands squeezing the sore skin of his asscheeks as he guides the sensual roll of his hips. The angle isn’t perfect like this, each time Jeongguk brushes against that sensitive spot inside of Taehyung nothing but a mere happy accident, but Taehyung doesn’t mind as long as they keep kissing.

And that they do. Every thrust of Jeongguk’s hips punches a groan up Taehyung’s throat, and Jeongguk steals them all right before they can fall off the edge of his lips, exchanging them for whispered sugar sweet nothings.

When Taehyung whimpers a distorted version of “M’close” into Jeongguk’s mouth it surprises himself. It doesn’t feel like they’ve been at it very long, plus he hasn’t felt the same build-up he usually does, tendrils of heat swirling around in the pit of his stomach steadily winding tighter and tighter until they eventually snap and explode.

This is more sudden, and it’s overwhelming in a completely different way. It’s like one moment, he’s kissing Jeongguk, largely oblivious to everything else, and the next, he’s a shaking, trembling mess as Jeongguk pulls him roughly down on his cock and tightens the grip of his fist around him as he comes.

Disoriented, Taehyung’s hands claw at Jeongguk’s shoulders, needy for something to hold on to. He’s got the silliest urge to kiss him through the waves of pleasure rolling through him from head to toe, but he’s sighing and panting too much.

Jeongguk juts his face out a little, gently nudging Taehyung’s temple to get him to look at him. He brushes their noses together before leaning their foreheads against one another, eyes wide and intent on Taehyung as he watches him fall apart.

The most embarrassing moans and whines spill out of Taehyung. He’s transfixed, can’t do anything but stare back at Jeongguk as he sighs his name over and over again.

“Pretty boy,” Jeongguk tells him once his writhing has calmed down some. He brings one of his hands up, brushing a few unruly strands of hair out of Taehyung’s eyes. “So beautiful.”

A little clumsily, Taehyung breeches the couple inches between them to press their lips together again. His heart is going absolutely wild in his chest. Screwing his eyes shut, he deepens the kiss as he pushes up on his knees once more. He’s slow as he lets himself sink back down, but the overstimulation is enough to make him hiss anyway.

“Wait.”

“It’s fi–” Taehyung grits out through his teeth but Jeongguk’s already kissing him again.

It’s a mean way of distracting him. Taehyung feels how Jeongguk wraps a strong arm around the small of his back and pulls him closer, feels how he shifts his own hips back, but he’s too lost in the feeling of their mouths moving together to protest as Jeongguk slips out of him.

With gentle hands, Jeongguk brings enough distance between them so he can reach between their bodies and tug the condom off. They’d used the one Jeongguk had chucked to the side the previous night, mostly for cleanliness reasons but also because Taehyung doesn’t particularly feel like leaking come when he plans to stand (not sit, because reasons) at the edge of a football pitch all day.

Taehyung breaks the kiss in order to glance down. He can’t help the pout forming on his face at the feeling of emptiness, but he reigns it in as best he can so he can concentrate on the more pressing matter.

He reaches out, determined to do his best to make Jeongguk feel just as good as he did. He feels a bit like a letdown, like he’s disappointed Jeongguk by finishing so quickly. And then he doesn’t even get a chance to touch Jeongguk’s cock before his hand is batted away.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk tells him, breathless. Keeping his eyes on Taehyung, he drags his own hand through the sticky wet mess Taehyung’s made of his chest and stomach before wrapping it around himself. “Just kiss me again.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, not when Jeongguk’s asking him in this broken voice of his. But he is a little confused, a twinge of insecurity nagging on him. His help’s just never been dismissed like this, is all. Usually his partners insist on him lending a hand — at the very least.

But then he kisses Jeongguk, and it becomes clear that’s going to be taking up his entire focus. Jeongguk’s not far from the edge either, and he’s needy and a little uncoordinated in the way he’s licking into Taehyung’s mouth.

Doing his best not to get in the way of the quick jerks of Jeongguk’s hand, Taehyung straightens his back a little more and tilts his head slightly to the left, deepening the kiss.

Jeongguk moans against him, and it sounds desperate and rough at the same time, and okay, Taehyung’s getting the appeal of all this now. He cards his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, pulling a little bit at the strands to keep him firmly in place.

It doesn’t take long. Less than a couple minutes, if Taehyung had to estimate, and then he’s got Jeongguk groaning and sighing into his mouth.

Dipping down to give him room to catch his breath, Taehyung nips at the skin at the unblemished side of Jeongguk’s neck. Not really thinking about it, he decides to leave another love bite behind. For good measure. Just a small one, nothing grand, but the gasp Jeongguk lets out tells him it’s got the same effect on him as all the others.

After giving the skin a last playful bite, he leans back to examine his handiwork. He stops short, mouth falling slightly open.

The hickey has the deformed shape of a heart. And it’s silly and so fucking cheesy, but Taehyung can’t help the wild swoop of his stomach and the grin spreading out on his face.

The motion of Jeongguk shaking his head draws his attention back upward.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jeongguk says quickly. He lets his hand fall onto Taehyung’s naked thigh with a quiet smack. It’s wet.

“No, tell me,” Taehyung presses. He’s not allowing himself to glance down just yet. He can feel how sticky he is almost all the way up to his chin.

“It’s nothing.” Taehyung might be imagining it, but it looks like Jeongguk’s blushing. “Sometimes I just can’t get over your face.”

Taken off guard, Taehyung blinks at him dumbly. It’s not like he ever gets tired of hearing he’s pretty, and when Jeongguk says it it has a particularly thrilling ring to it, but this. This isn’t just a compliment. It’s not something Jeongguk’s saying for him, to make him feel good about himself. No, it’s got that sound to it, that romantic, almost painful edge, as if Jeongguk just can’t help what Taehyung’s doing to him.

When he doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring with his mouth agape in a way he’s sure makes him look extra smart, Jeongguk brings his clean hand up and brushes his thumb over his cheek and down his neck.

“Oh.”

Taehyung drops his gaze. Jeongguk’s thumb is all shiny and wet.

“Sorry, I’ll go get us wi–”

Lifting his eyes and keeping them trained on Jeongguk’s face, he grabs him by the wrist and brings his hand up to his face. They did the same thing last night, but Jeongguk’s eyes still widen and his mouth forms a perfect o-shape when Taehyung wraps his lips around his finger and sucks, as if he can’t quite believe this is happening to him.

It’s flattering, really. Makes Taehyung swirl his tongue a little quicker.

With a small whine at the back of his throat, Jeongguk pulls his hand back, and the next thing Taehyung knows he’s wrapped up in another kiss.

This one is softer, slower, and so distracting Taehyung’s completely oblivious to how sticky and wet his chest feels when it brushes against Jeongguk’s as he leans closer, hooking his arms around his neck.

Kissing Jeongguk is addicting, it seems. And Taehyung’s got a serious problem. Because he can’t stop. Ever since he’s gotten the first taste of it he hasn’t been able to resist. So every time he feels Jeongguk retreat even just a tiny bit, he compulsively chases after him, pressing their lips right back together.

And Jeongguk’s doing the same with him.

What eventually breaks them apart is the big dopey smile taking over Jeongguk’s face. It’s instantly contagious, and when their teeth clink together awkwardly, Taehyung finally shifts back a couple inches. His eyes flutter open, meeting Jeongguk’s straight on.

“Good morning, darling.”

Taehyung laughs. He doesn’t know if it’s the cuddles or the sex or all the kissing, but he’s just so damn happy he feels giddy with it. He doesn’t even have it in himself to be scared about the whole feelings thing for a moment. “Morning, baby.”

Jeongguk pecks his lips again. And again. Again.

If possible, the butterflies in Taehyung’s belly have tripled in the last half hour or so. He had this whole realisation about how he’s in love with Jeongguk this morning, but it seems like maybe he’s not quite done falling.

Which should be terrifying. But how could it be when it feels so right?

“Want dibs on the shower?” Jeongguk asks, placing one last kiss to the corner of Taehyung’s mouth.

Taehyung doesn’t let him pull back all the way without brushing their noses together first. “What,” he asks, grinning, “you’re telling me your shower isn’t big enough for both of us?”

“I’m telling you we’re never getting out of there if we go together,” Jeongguk says. His hands come around Taehyung’s body to lightly pinch his butt.

It doesn’t hurt but it’s enough to make Taehyung jump a little. The skin’s still a bit sore from last night. But that isn’t exactly enough to keep him from pushing back into Jeongguk’s touch and wiggling his hips. “Sounds intriguing.”

Jeongguk smooths one hand down the side of Taehyung’s thigh before lacing their fingers together. He lifts their joint hands and presses them to the spot just above his heart. “You’re killing me.”

It’s so corny. But Jeongguk looks at him like he means it, with so much unadulterated honesty in his gaze, and Taehyung can feel how abnormally fast his heart is beating under his palm, right in time with his own.

Not moving his hand, he leans in again to steal another kiss.

“You go ahead, I’ll join you in a couple minutes,” Jeongguk tells him, lips brushing over Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Just gonna strip off the sheets real quick. We kinda messed them up.”

The corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. “Ah damn. Sacrificed your sexy shirt for nothing last night.”

Jeongguk grins. “Don’t care, was worth it.”

Taehyung makes the fatal mistake of leaning in once again. It’s bad, really, like he’s got no control over his own body anymore and is simply succumbing to every one of Jeongguk’s magnetic pulls.

By the time he finally clambers off Jeongguk’s lap and out of bed they’re both breathless. Reluctantly, he ambles backwards in the general direction of the door leading to the ensuite bathroom. He knows he should clean up, him and his entire torso covered in come are really disgusting, but Jeongguk’s gaze is raking over him top to bottom as if he’s the most alluring thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and that makes it really hard to leave the room.

But he does. He manages. Tears his eyes away from Jeongguk and convinces himself that won’t somehow magically make him slip through his fingers and disappear into thin air.

Once in the bathroom, he leaves the door ajar behind him, not wanting to give the false assumption of not wanting Jeongguk to come after him. And then he just stands there, suddenly alone again, staring at himself in the rectangular mirror over the sink. The soft morning light filtering in through a skylight in the ceiling makes his chest gleam.

He blinks.

The room looks exactly how he remembers it from that one picture Jeongguk uploaded to his Instagram story one night, all expensive, dark marble tiles, a massive walk-in shower, light fixtures behind the mirror. Except now he can see what was cut out of the frame: an oval-shaped bathtub next to the shower with a shelf of scented candles next to it, a fluffy dark blue robe dangling from a hanger on the backside of the door, the vanity area to the left of the sink displaying different perfume vials.

“Towels are under the sink,” Jeongguk’s voice sounds from next door. He’s speaking a little louder to be heard over the rustling of sheets.

“Okay,” Taehyung croaks back. He’s actively avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, but as he steps closer that becomes a futile feat. It’s impossible to ignore how bruised his lips are from kissing so much, how messily his hair sticks up from his head every which way, the faint imprint Jeongguk’s lips left behind just below his ear.

He looks absolutely wrecked.

But that’s not it. He’s had one too many hook-ups to know he’ll be able to trace the previous night on his skin, feel the dull but slightly addicting ache of it echo in his bones. This — this is the same, yes, but different. When he looks at himself in the mirror, takes in the protruding cut of his collarbones at the base of his neck, the dip of his waist, and, turning a little to the right, the redness of his ass — all he sees is the ghost of Jeongguk’s hands, his mouth.

He’s been marked. Claimed. Not only physically, but in every other imaginable way alike.

Gonna ruin you for everyone else, that’s what Jeongguk had told him. And that’s precisely what he’d done.

Taehyung’s ruined.

For a moment he’s panicked with it, his heart jackhammering in his chest so hard it feels like his ribs are vibrating. But then a sort of helpless sense of surrender descends on him, its weight pleasant and grounding like a thick blanket.

It’s simple, in a way. There’s nothing he can do about the blooming feelings inside of him. He doesn’t want to. Not when loving Jeongguk feels this good. This thrilling and calming, equally, at the same time.

“Found them?”

Taehyung snaps back into himself. “Huh?”

“The towels,” Jeongguk says from next door.

“Oh.” Blinking quickly, Taehyung shakes his head at himself. “Yeah,” he says, quickly ducking down and opening the cabinet under the sink. He reaches in blindly and pulls free the first cloth his fingers find. It’s incredibly soft and fluffy and he has to stop himself from burying his face in it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just. Kinda lonely over here.”

He makes it sound like a joke. It’s not a joke. It’s so dumb, actually, the urge he feels to hurry back into the bedroom and drag Jeongguk back into the safe serenity of his sheets again.

“One sec,” Jeongguk calls to him, and Taehyung can do nothing but believe him.

Before he can do something properly humiliating like wait around like a needy child until Jeongguk comes and takes him by the hand he drags himself over to the shower. Every step he takes is accompanied by a little sting at the bottom of his spine and it’s absolutely embarrassing, the fact that if he allowed himself to, this would be enough to start him up for another round.

The glass disclosing the shower area from the rest of the bathroom slides open easily as Taehyung pushes against it with two fingers. He slips inside, naked feet padding over the cool floor tiles.

After some tinkering around, a steaming hot rainfall pours from a square shower head mounted to the ceiling. Steam wafts up at once, fogging up the glass and obscuring the view. Carefully, Taehyung steps underneath. Instantly, his shoulders sag back, relaxed, and his head lolls forward, spine stretching as it hangs uselessly, chin to his chest. With a sort of somber tranquillity he watches the grime of mingled sweat and come and spit peel off his body and run down the drain.

He cycles through the motions of washing his hair and lathering body wash on every inch of himself he can reach. Jeongguk’s shampoo has a clean, faintly flowery smell to it and Taehyung makes the mistake of breathing in too deeply and promptly gets a nose full of soapy water.

“You’re not drowning in my shower, are you?”

Coughing, Taehyung violently rubs his nose. He tips his head back, letting the spray of water wash the suds off his face.

Once he’s able to breathe and see again, he runs a hand across the glass front before him, drawing a clear spot in the condensation to peer through.

Jeongguk’s just straightening back up from where he grabbed a towel for himself. He places it at the edge of the sink next to Taehyung’s before driving a hand through his hair and giving himself a hard stare in the mirror.

Absentmindedly, Taehyung starts gnawing on his bottom lip. Jeongguk looks glorious, even without the lingering post-coital haze. It’s just not fair, Taehyung finds, having a body like this, and a face like that, and a personality so kind and sweet it’s no wonder Taehyung’s gotten himself wrapped up and stuck in it like a hapless fly in an especially tightly spun spiderweb.

He watches as Jeongguk drops his hand out of the strands of his hair and trails his fingers along what magnificent artwork Taehyung’s turned his neck into. The crooked line of love bites maps a path all the way from the left hinge of his jaw down to his collarbone, and Jeongguk looks stunned by it.

The glass fogs back up in front of Taehyung. He takes a step back, allowing the water pummelling down to massage his shoulders and rinse the last bit of conditioner out of his hair.

The sliding shower door makes a dull, rustling sound when it’s being pushed open. Cool air wafts into the secluded space, but Taehyung acts oblivious to it all. He’s got his eyes closed now, shoulders sagged back, head tipped slightly up towards the ceiling.

There’s no use denying he’s nervous. It’s like every time he brings even the tiniest bit of physical distance between him and Jeongguk, he’s scared the tension between them might fizzle out and dissipate into thin air. He’s more than sure the fuzzy feelings in his chest are permanent, lodged right behind his solar plexus and warming him from the inside out like his own personal sun, but he doesn’t know about Jeongguk.

The touch of two palms at the side of his hips before strong arms slide around him from behind. Taehyung feels his body go lax pretty much immediately, and the soft peck Jeongguk places on his shoulder is enough to nearly have him melt to the floor and dribble down the drain alongside the water.

They don’t talk. With a racing heart, Taehyung lets Jeongguk’s hands and lips wander over his body, gooseflesh erupting and leaving his skin in little bumps. Jeongguk explores with a kind of quiet fervour, tracing the shell of Taehyung's ear with his tongue and sliding his fingers all the way from Taehyung's shoulders down to his wrists.

Despite the water cascading down from above, Taehyung’s head falls back, the back of it landing on Jeongguk’s shoulder. Turning his face into the crook of his neck, he kisses away the droplets of water running down his skin, feeling the erratic thump of his pulse beneath his lips.

Jeongguk drags his hands further down so their palms eclipse the back of Taehyung’s, fingers tangling together. And Taehyung doesn’t know how he does it, but this pure, eager way of touching when they’ve just rolled out of bed — it makes him feel wanted like never before. It's that persistence and constancy in Jeongguk's touch, like he isn't going to stop until Taehyung tells him to. Like he doesn't want to. Like Taehyung's something brand new, untouched, clean, something he can't wait to discover, lay bare, and map out, and for the first time, Taehyung isn't scared.

He’s almost surprised when their touching stays innocent. It would be so easy for Jeongguk to shift his pliant body around, press him chest-front into the tiled wall or the glass separation and take him like that. Taehyung wouldn’t say no. He wants it.

But he doesn’t want it nearly as much as the calm sort of kissing they’ve resolved to instead. Jeongguk gently guides his body around until they’re face to face, and then he walks Taehyung back until his shoulder blades lean against the cool wall, and he kisses him like that, one hand cupping his face, the other still tangled with Taehyung’s. He kisses him until they both can’t breathe and have to break apart, and then he giggles, blinking at Taehyung with drops of water clinging to his lashes.

Taehyung grins back, nuzzling his cheek into the palm of Jeongguk’s hand before leaning forward and brushing their noses together.

“Know what?” Jeongguk asks, twirling one of Taehyung’s curls around his index finger before tucking it behind his ear. “Fuck practice and meetings, actually. Let’s just go back to bed.”

Taehyung’s absolutely sure he’ll never get tired of feeling his heartbeat stutter first and flutter wildly right after. He plays it cool, though, tilting his head to the left and, regrettably, dodging another one of Jeongguk’s kisses. “Hey now,” he scolds lightheartedly. “What would your fans think of your low commitment to your sport?”

Jeongguk’s hand flexes against his cheek, holding his head in place so he can land a smacking kiss right on the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure they’d be understanding if they knew my circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“I have the prettiest boy right here, and he’s willing to kiss me.”

“Oh my God, enough!” Taehyung snorts, but he feels heat rushing to his face. Looking at the glimmer in Jeongguk’s eyes, he knows Jeongguk knows he doesn’t mean it. “You’re a sap.”

“But not a liar.”

“Jeongguk, stop.”

But Jungkook must have him all figured out, because he doesn’t back away. He must see it. Must understand that so often, what Taehyung says is the opposite of what he means.

***

When Jeongguk’s phone starts blaring its alarm one room over, Taehyung, more or less voluntarily, extracts himself from the shower. Before he can leave, Jeongguk, shampoo dripping from his hair into his eyes, grips his forearm, hauling him back around for one more kiss.

With a towel haphazardly tied around his lower body and with his hair dripping everywhere, Taehyung shuffles back into the bedroom. He finds Jeongguk’s phone next to his own on the nightstand and quickly turns the loud noise off. There are a bunch of notifications obscuring Bam on Jeongguk’s lock screen, and Taehyung tries, he really tries not to be nosy.

But the text at the very top of the screen is from Aerin, and she sent it over an hour ago, most likely first thing in the morning, and an absurdly big and petty part of Taehyung decidedly does not like anyone but him thinking about Jeongguk first thing in the morning.

He shakes it off. He has to, or otherwise the whole day’s going to turn sour. There’s no preview of what her text says, anyway, plus Jeongguk’s told him twice now that he doesn’t have any lingering feelings for his ex-wife.

That doesn’t explain the existence of the message in the first place, and it certainly doesn’t explain the polaroid Jeongguk keeps of them together in his wallet.

The ugly but well-known sting of jealousy and insecurity pierces his chest, right through his sternum, before seeping down into his belly and settling heavily there. Great, that went wonderful. Crossing his arms, he swallows. Listens to Jeongguk hum next door.

With a deep sigh, he rolls his eyes up, hoping to find some of his lost sense of rationality in Jeongguk’s ceiling. He doesn’t. But when he looks back down, his gaze falls upon the fresh sheets on Jeongguk’s bed, and the neatly folded pile of the clothes he’d worn the night before.

And well, sweatpants and a t-shirt just won’t do today, will they.

Hastily, he unwraps the towel from around his hips and runs it up and down his body, flinching when the cloth scrapes over his asscheeks. No matter how soft the material feels, Jeongguk’s really done a number on him the night before, and he can’t find it in himself to complain about it.

Once he’s sufficiently dried off, he slips into Jeongguk’s closet. He’s not surprised to find it tidy and somewhat organised and also, mostly black. After some contemplation, Taehyung grabs a wide-legged pair of blue jeans and one of Jeongguk’s huge dark t-shirts. In separate drawers he finds underwear and a pair of socks — he double checks these are normal ones, not toe socks before putting them on first.

Jeongguk walks into the room just as Taehyung pulls up the fly of his jeans. He’s got his towel laid around his shoulders and is wearing a skimpy pair of purple Calvins that makes Taehyung’s brain explode and drift off in all kinds of different directions.

“Nice outfit,” he comments with a quick jump of his eyebrows. He makes it sound nonchalant, but Taehyung catches the way his eyes flick up and down his entire body once, twice, catch on his legs, his neck, his eyes. “Where’d you find it?”

Taehyung bites the corner of his bottom lip. Crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest, he starts off towards the door. Right when he passes Jeongguk, he shrugs, and says, matching his offhanded tone, “Oh, just some guy’s closet.”

The disbelieving huff of a laugh sounds from Jeongguk. Taehyung’s got his back to him now, can’t see his face, but it’s like he can feel the burn of Jeongguk’s gaze on him. “If you’re calling me ‘just some guy’ after last night I’m afraid I’m gonna have to tie you down for another round.”

Whirling around on the spot, Taehyung smirks at him before letting himself fall backwards on top of the neatly folded sheets of Jeongguk’s bed. “Oh no,” he whines, drawing the last word out. “I’d hate that. God forbid I have to have your dick in my ass again.” He rolls his eyes. For good measure.

“I’ll put it in your mouth instead so you’ll finally shut it for once.”

“Now, what’d I tell you about empty promises, Jeon?”

“And what did I tell you about them, darling?”

Taehyung feels himself blush. He lets his head thump back against the mattress, breathing in the scent of fresh linen the movement evoked to calm himself down.

When he chances a glance back up, the curls at the back of his head still brushing along the sheets, he finds Jeongguk grinning at him from inside his closet. He’s cradling a pair of jeans to his chest.

Sighing in what he hopes passes as utter annoyance, Taehyung rolls onto his side and curls his body into a crescent shape so he can keep looking at Jeongguk.

The denim is a good fit on him. It’s a straight leg, clinging to his thighs in all the right places as he pulls them up to close the button and zip up the fly, but not too tight to kill him in the August heat outside.

“Would you ever bottom?” Taehyung asks, tone slightly distracted. Jeongguk’s turned his back to him to choose a t-shirt to go with his jeans, and the toned, narrow line of his waist and how it smooths down to his hips is extremely distracting.

Jeongguk clears his throat. His shoulders tense as his hands stop rummaging through the neat pile of black shirts on a top shelf inside the closet. “What?”

“Just wondering.” Taehyung shrugs. “You’ve got a nice ass, is all.”

Silence. Then, another one of those quiet huffs from Jeongguk. He seems to have found a satisfying choice of a t-shirt. He pulls it free and shakes it out but doesn’t put it over his head yet.

“So?” Taehyung prompts. There’s truly no ideal answer he’s hoping for Jeongguk to give. He’s just curious. Also, he wasn’t lying, Jeongguk does have a really nice ass. Especially in those jeans.

“I mean.” Jeongguk turns halfway toward him, and it’s really unfair, the way his back curves, and his biceps bulges, and his lips purse. “Sure.”

“Wait.” Taehyung pushes up into a sitting position. He’s rumpling the sheets again, but it doesn’t look like Jeongguk cares much about that. “You serious?”

Laughing, Jeongguk sticks his head through the neck hole of the shirt. “Why that tone of surprise?”

“I dunno,” Taehyung admits. He likes to think of himself as not shallow enough to buy into cliches or stereotypes, but sometimes he has his moments. “Just thought you were some buff jock guy who only ever tops, I guess.”

“Seriously, what’s with you calling me ‘some guy?’” Jeongguk shakes his head and manoeuvres his arms into the t-shirt. “I just had you moaning my name half an hour ago. I know you know full well what it is. Quit it.”

Taehyung’s stomach does a complicated triple-flip. It does something to him, the genuine pout dragging down Jeongguk’s bottom lip, as if he’s truly afraid Taehyung would forget the name of the best hook-up of his life.

“I’ve bottomed before.” Stepping in front of a narrow mirror inside the closet, Jeongguk begins rolling back the sleeves of the t-shirt until all the toned muscles of his arms are in view.

Taehyung crosses one leg over the other. He’s still feeling a little hot from Jeongguk’s chiding, and he doesn’t trust himself with a serious reply just yet. “With your ex-wife?”

Jeongguk snorts and rolls his eyes. This precise combination, plus the annoyed glower he sends Taehyung’s way right after, reminds Taehyung so much of how they used to behave around each other just a few months ago that he can’t help but smile fondly. “Yeah, Taehyung, I let Aerin fuck me in the ass.”

Holding back the burst of laughter threatening to break out of him, Taehyung schools his face into a neutral expression and lifts his hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, no need to be so crass, I’d be the last person to judge you if you did.”

Another theatrical eye roll. Jeongguk’s great at those. “I wasn’t a virgin when I got married, you know?” He pauses to meet Taehyung’s gaze. “Oh my fucking God, is that what you thought?”

Taehyung cringes, caught. “Kind of!”

It’s not actually true. He hasn’t wasted much thought on how extensive the lore about Jeongguk’s love life might be, but just the fact that he’d been down to get hitched before even properly entering his twenties had Taehyung suspecting he’d been lacking some serious relationship experience.

“Jesus, no.” Momentarily, Jeongguk steps out of his field of vision, disappearing further into the closet. When he re-emerges, he’s carrying a denim jacket in his hands. “I’ve dated other people before.”

Inside Taehyung, intrigue mixes with another, more bitter feeling. He knows what it is, recognises it right away, but he refuses to acknowledge its existence in this moment. “What other people?”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow at his oddly-flat, cool tone. “What,” he says, “you want me to recount my dating history to you in detail right now?”

“Mhm.”

For a couple seconds, Jeongguk just looks at him, head tilted slightly to the side. Suspicion and a little bit of amusement tug one corner of his mouth into a crooked grin.

Taehyung hates this.

“Well,” Jeongguk starts, and it’s so obvious he’s absolutely going to take the piss out of this. He fetches his black duffel bag from inside the closet and starts throwing some sportswear items inside, his movements pointedly mindless. “I went out with this girl when I was fifteen. Oh,” he snaps his fingers in Taehyung’s direction, “she was in our maths class as well! Eunji.”

“Park?” Taehyung asks, the memory of a young girl floating to the forefront of his brain. He doesn’t really remember what any of his classmates looked like back then, but out of spite he wants to believe she’d been either completely out of Jeongguk’s league or a total eye-sore.

“Yeah!” Jeongguk exclaims, overly glad and enthusiastic. It grinds Taehyung’s gears, and, judging by the grin stretching Jeongguk’s lips, he’s more than aware of that. “Her. First kiss with her under the bleachers after football practice, and she dumped me right after.”

“I’d say I’m sorry,” Taehyung says drily, “but I knew you at fifteen, and I’m not a liar.”

Giggling, Jeongguk pulls a white t-shirt out from a stack that looks a lot like different versions of the same football jersey. “I dated her best friend like, right after that. Dubious move on my part, admittedly. But she was cute and much nicer than Eunji, and she made me this super cool cake for my birthday.”

Grumbling something intelligible even to himself, Taehyung shifts in his seat and pulls both his feet up on the bed with him. He starts fumbling with the hem of Jeongguk’s jeans. “What kind of cake?”

“Oh God, it was red velvet.” Jeongguk sighs dreamily. “And she decorated it really prettily, and I remember it had my name written on top of it, and it was so cute. It’s actually so bad, I don’t remember this girl’s name, but I know that cake was the best one I’ve ever had.”

Okay, that’s it. Taehyung grinds his teeth. He needs to knock it off immediately. How embarrassing is it to get jealous of Jeongguk’s high school dates?

“I think she broke up with me because of Eunji. Which I guess is fair, I get it. I know that I didn’t really care about it, though, ‘cause I had just signed with a semi-professional football team and I was about to dedicate any free time I had to practice or training camps.”

Taehyung wants to sigh, but he can’t. He’s once again reminded of how similar Jeongguk and him are, ready to cut off anything and anyone coming between them and their respective dreams.

“Somehow I managed to get a boyfriend when I was seventeen,” Jeongguk says, sounding a little disbelieving himself. “He also played football, but for a different team.”

“Oh, spicy,” Taehyung comments. Thankfully it sounds less half-heartedly than it feels on his tongue. He already regrets asking Jeongguk to tell him all this, but at the same time he’s oddly curious about it all.

As he zips up his duffel bag, Jeongguk hums in agreement. “That was the first break up that really hurt. We were together until graduation, and he didn’t like the idea of me going to university in Seoul and signing with the Tigers.”

“Oh.”

“Really I think he just hated that I was on my way to going professional and he wasn’t.”

“Anyways.” Jeongguk steps out of the closet and drops his bag to the floor next to the hamper. He saunters over to the bed and flops down next to Taehyung, bending slightly to slip a pair of toe socks onto his feet. “When I cried about it Jin told me it was better that way, that being in a relationship when moving to a new city and getting into college was gonna take all the fun out of the experience.”

Taehyung watches as he cuffs the hems of his jeans.

“Which is bullshit, but he sounded so wise that I believed him,” Jeongguk goes on. “I feel like that happens a lot between me and him.” Once he’s done fidgeting with his clothes, he leans back, blinking up at Taehyung. “Whatever. And then college is where I realised hook-ups just aren’t my thing.”

It’s impossible to look away. Taehyung has no idea if Jeongguk’s aware of the implication, if he knows Taehyung remembers him saying I’m not one for casual anything. Wonders what this is, then.

Before any of the doubts and questions can slither out through the barricade of Taehyung’s teeth, Jeongguk places one of his hands on his thigh, letting it slide down the inside of it.

“And then I met–”

“Yeah, don’t care.” Maybe it’s mean, but Taehyung’s not in the mood to hear about Jeongguk’s ex-wife right now. If she was one of the many hook-ups, but the only one good enough for more. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to compare himself to her and come up short when his time with Jeongguk inevitably ends today.

Forcing himself not to think too much, he pushes himself up and over, fitting himself in Jeongguk’s lap. Jeongguk’s eyes flick up to him, a sly grin on his lips, and his hands close around his waist immediately, holding him close.

“Back to the original point of the conversation,” Taehyung murmurs, circling his hips almost unnoticeably. He brings his hand up to skim his fingertips lightly over the marks on Jeongguk’s throat, marvelling at the way Jeongguk tips his head to the side instantly.

“Which was?” With his head angled like that, Jeongguk only has to move forward the tiniest bit to press a gentle kiss to the soft skin of Taehyung’s upper arm.

“You taking it up the ass.”

Jeongguk bites.

“Ouch! Hey!”

Grinning, he kisses the spot again before leaning back. With a flex of his hands, he draws Taehyung a little closer, brushing their noses together. “Hm,” he hums. “What about that?”

Taehyung sneaks his hand into the hair at the back of Jeongguk’s head. It’s soft from the shower and still a little damp at the roots. “Would you?”

“I already said I would.”

“So you like it.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Taehyung leans back. “Fine?”

Displeasure colours Jeongguk’s features grey. It lasts only for a short moment though, only until he’s dragged Taehyung closer again. “Yeah?” He shrugs, the movement gently jostling Taehyung’s forearm propped up on it. “I like it. I just generally prefer topping.”

“Oh God,” Taehyung huffs, then adds in a tone resembling Jeongguk’s voice, “It’s fine.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow at him.

“Baby, I hate to break it to you, but the guys who’ve fucked you did not do it right.”

That lures a laugh out of him. “Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t describe it as ‘fine’ if they had,” Taehyung tells him.

“Or maybe I just like it better the other way around most of the time, although not always,” Jeongguk says. “You know, a preference.”

“Yeah, dumbass, I know what a preference is.” Taehyung wants to eat the grin taking over Jeongguk’s face. “I have one too. Yours is just wrong.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints about it last night when it wasn’t even a question if I was gonna fuck you or not.”

Fair enough. Taehyung has to give him that. But not without sticking his tongue out at him.

Of course, he doesn’t mean any of it. Who tops, who bottoms, that’s not a topic that tends to take up actual brain space in his day to day life, or that he brings up in detail with every person he gets intimate with. He prefers taking over giving, sure, but from time to time, he likes switching things up as well. And he understands that Jeongguk’s the same, except he’s his exact counterpart.

And that’s not bad. It’s perfect, actually.

Still, he pushes his bottom lip out. “I still think I could fuck you better than ‘fine.’”

Jeongguk kisses him. Right on his pout. It comes so unexpectedly that Taehyung’s eyes fly wide open. “Mhm, maybe we can give it a shot one day.” He seems unfazed by Taehyung’s reaction, just places another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “When we both feel like it.”

One day. Meaning this isn’t going to be a one-time-only thing.

I’m not one for casual anything.

Swallowing, Taehyung tries to keep his breathing even. His heart is beating in his throat with the mere implication of Jeongguk’s words, but he forces it back down, doesn’t allow for hope to give it wings.

He nods.

Jeongguk nods.

“Not feeling like it today,” Taehyung admits.

Laughter explodes out of Jeongguk at once. He shakes with it, and his whole face scrunches up, and the sound of it is bright and free and beautiful. His arms slide fully around Taehyung’s middle, and before he knows any better, Taehyung is being hugged tightly.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says. “Thanks for telling me my butt is nice though.”

Pressing a kiss to one of the hickeys on Jeongguk’s neck, Taehyung returns, “I’m the official spokesperson for the whole entire nation.”

“That’s not what people think when I get on the field.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not.”

“I said okay, baby.”

“I feel objectified.”

“Aw, don’t.” Taehyung shifts back as best as he can. Which isn’t much, because Jeongguk doesn’t seem to be too keen on allowing any distance between them. “I was just kidding. Like, I actually was. Football’s kinda interesting when you’re playing.”

And that gets Jeongguk to kiss him for real again.

They tip back onto the mattress, Taehyung’s hands flying out of Jeongguk’s hair and instead splaying on the mattress next to his head for leverage. Jeongguk looks at him, all hooded eyes and parted mouth, and brushes their noses together before turning his head, and pressing his lips to the inside of one of Taehyung’s wrists.

Taehyung could stay here forever. Supporting his weight on his knees and one hand, he touches the other to Jeongguk’s shoulder, lingers there, drops it to his chest, his stomach. He can’t get enough of it, of having Jeongguk so close, so solid, so willing underneath him.

“We should really get going.” Jeongguk lifts his head off the mattress, placing a peck near Taehyung’s temple.

Humming, Taehyung sneaks his hand under Jeongguk’s t-shirt. He’s so warm there, all lean muscle and the slight ripple of his ribs when he lays stretched out like this, and it’s not even that Taehyung means for this to lead anywhere, he just wants to touch. To feel. To somehow caress his fingers over every plane of bare skin, every tendon lining Jeongguk’s neck, every slightly raised vein running down the length of his forearm. He wants to find all the spots that make Jeongguk shiver, like the one close to his hip bone or the one at his throat already adorned with a purple hickey, and the ones that make him laugh, near his armpit, the crook of his elbow. He wants to find them all, learn them by heart, and touch them all before someone else can.

When his hand is laying flat over Jeongguk’s heart, he bends down, connecting their lips once more. Slow. Eyes closed. Calmly breathing through his nose.

Jeongguk’s mouth is wonderful, so soft and receptive. But he doesn’t just lie there and lets himself be kissed. He returns it with the same sort of quiet passion, matching the intensity of each movement of Taehyung’s lips, sighing softly, skirting his tongue over Taehyung’s bottom lip.

“You make me feel crazy.”

Taehyung almost doesn’t recognise the sound of his own voice. He sounds hoarse, out of breath, his tone almost defeated. He sounds exactly how he feels.

And Jeongguk smiles at him, their kiss all teeth for a moment before his head thuds back to the mattress and he says, just as breathless, “Likewise.”

Taehyung kisses his nose. It’s such a good nose. “I’m gonna get off you now.”

With another, deeper sigh, Jeongguk lets his hands fall to the mattress with a dull thump. Taehyung had been too distracted by the kiss to notice he’d slipped them into the back pockets of his jeans. “If you must.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Taehyung says, scooting back a little. “Unless someone’s down to skip practice today.”

“I can’t.”

“Thought so.” Taehyung purses his lips but makes a point of holding eye contact so Jeongguk knows he’s only teasing and would never expect him to actually cut work for him. “Ever the goody two-shoes. Still the same boy who snitched on me during that maths exam.”

“I regret nothing,” Jeongguk says resolutely. “Every decision I made has ultimately led me here, and I honestly couldn’t imagine anything better right now.”

At once, Taehyung sits up all the way, bringing as much distance between them as possible without getting off Jeongguk’s lap. “You’re insufferable.”

The way Jeongguk’s mouth falls open looks genuinely offended. He props himself halfway up on his elbows. “How was that insufferable?”

“You keep saying things that make me want to kiss you!”

And that’s precisely what happens. Jeongguk shoots up into an upright position so fast, he would’ve jostled Taehyung out of bed hadn’t his hands immediately seized his waist to pull him close. He kisses hungrier now, but also sweeter, much sweeter, the smile lingering on his lips tasting like the sugariest candy.

One of their phones gives a strong buzz, rattling the nightstand a little. Taehyung registers it through the haze taking over his brain and tries to lean back, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him.

“Okay,” he whispers into the kiss. “Okay. Alright. We gotta stop.”

Jeongguk moves his mouth over the line of his jaw and down his neck. And even though Taehyung really, really doesn’t want to, he has to put an end to this, or else Jeongguk’s kisses are going to make him say something very stupid.

I’m in love with you.

Using both his hands, he drags Jeongguk’s face up and presses a final kiss to his sweet mouth. And then, before Jeongguk can hold him back, he slips off his lap, and it might just be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Jeongguk’s hands fall onto his own thighs, boneless, useless. He just sits on his bed for a moment, a little slumped over, and then he lets out a deep groan that sounds like equal parts defiance and rebellion. His head sags all the way back, exposing the glorious length of his throat.

He’s gorgeous, actually. Taehyung curls his toes into the rug on the floor to keep from swooning on the spot.

With each passing second, reality filters back in. There’s a slight scratching noise coming from the door and when Taehyung opens it he finds Bam sitting in front of it with his head tilted and his eyes big and wide, and then Taehyung gets to witness the maybe cutest thing he’s ever seen, because Bam sees Jeongguk, and Jeongguk sees Bam, and then it’s like they’re reuniting after having been apart for months.

Bam sprints into the room as soon as Jeongguk calls his name, flopping down on his back on the floor in front of the bed. With both his hands, Jeongguk rubs his belly, cooing.

Careful not to disturb the two of them, Taehyung tiptoes around them to snatch his phone from the nightstand. Quick fingers swipe open the camera app and switch to the video function. He’s not looking through the screen though. He’s actually watching Jeongguk, and Jeongguk seems to feel his gaze on him, because he tips his head back and peers up at him through his eyelashes, and for a moment Taehyung honestly can’t believe he’s had the audacity to call him a pretty boy when he’s there looking like this.

Jeongguk pushes up from the ground. “No, wait,” he says when Taehyung is about to put his phone away. “Got an idea.”

He puts an arm around Taehyung’s waist and gingerly walks him a couple steps through the room until they’re standing in front of the black-framed mirror. Feeling a little dumb, Taehyung lowers the hand holding the phone, turning his head and directing a quizzical look at Jeongguk. Behind them, Bam has given himself permission to jump up on the bed and curl up on the fresh sheets.

“What…” Taehyung starts to ask, but he never gets to finish the sentence. Jeongguk’s other hand closes around his waist, his face coming closer.

“Couple content.”

It takes Taehyung ten whole embarrassing, clueless seconds until it clicks for him.

“Right,” he says, voice strangely empty. He coughs. Clears his throat. Blinks at Jeongguk.

“Kiss me.” It sounds almost sheepish, the way Jeongguk says it. But his hands are sure and confident around Taehyung’s middle and Taehyung doesn’t fucking care if this is an excuse for them to make out again or if Jeongguk’s just remembered they technically have a deal to fulfil — he’s never going to say no to that.

Bringing his arms up around Jeongguk’s shoulders, he slots their lips together. Instantly, he forgets he’s supposed to film the whole thing or at least take a picture of it, but after a gentle nip at his bottom lip, he remembers.

He doesn’t have the brain space to worry about aesthetics. The moment is captured in a split second, and as soon as it’s done, he locks his phone and nods slightly, slinging his arms tighter around Jeongguk.

Jeongguk squeezes his waist before gently pushing him away.

Back to business. Just like that.

He’s not putting much force or pressure into the gesture, but Taehyung’s stomach plummets down into a bottomless abyss anyway, and he springs back, ripping his arms away.

“No! I mean. Sorry,” Jeongguk murmurs, and it takes a moment until Taehyung notices his phone is buzzing away on the nightstand again. Jeongguk’s eyebrows draw together apologetically, and then he’s stepping back to pick the device up and scan over his messages.

Biting the lines of his teeth together, Taehyung stops himself from asking about the text from Aerin. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know.

“What’d Aerin want?”

Immediately, he bites his own tongue. Hard. Fucking great, Taehyung, good job, you and your big fucking mouth.

Puzzled, Jeongguk looks up from his phone.

“Sorry, I…” Taehyung clamps his mouth shut. Swallows. Suddenly, he feels stupid and small. “When I turned your alarm off,” he explains, “I saw she texted you. I just… Sorry. I wasn’t looking and it’s none of my b—”

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk interrupts him. His tone is firm but not mean or dismissive. With his right hand, he slips his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, and with the other, he grabs the empty pizza cartons from where they’d stashed them on the floor. “We’re trying to figure out when to meet and catch up. Since I didn’t go see her the day before yesterday.”

“Ah.”

Giving him a small but reassuring smile, Jeongguk starts off towards the door, stopping shortly to sling his duffle bag over one shoulder before beckoning him to follow. “We’re both busy, I guess. And what you said the other day kinda— Sorry, hold on.”

Taehyung almost laughs. Jeongguk’s ridiculous. He’s holding on to his bedroom door with his free hand, peeking out into the hallway as if he’s a spy on a mission, checking if the coast is clear.

“And what exactly is it you’re doing?” Taehyung asks, acting unassuming.

“If I see my brother kissing my coach I will actually throw up, no joke.”

“I traumatised you with that image, didn’t I.”

Jeongguk turns his head over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Did you lie? I swear to God if you lied—”

Huffing, Taehyung takes a step closer, pulling the door open fully. “Of course I didn’t lie,” he says.

Cautiously, Jeongguk steps out into the hallway. His eyes wander from left to right before he inches forward.

Taehyung sighs. He leaves Jeongguk’s bedroom door open behind him for Bam as he saunters after Jeongguk, who is walking on the very tips of his toes. “You’re so dramatic,” he tells him, and then he raises his voice, “Hello? Anyone fucking in the living room? We’re coming in stage right.”

“I…” Jeongguk stops to pinch the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand. “hate you.”

Grinning, Taehyung shuffles past him, but not without pressing a happy, smacking kiss to his cheek first.

They move through the apartment on heavier feet now. There’s no one around, but Taehyung sees the door at the far end of the apartment he assumes leads towards Seokjin’s room is firmly shut.

“What I was gonna say,” Jeongguk continues, walking into the kitchen and dumping the pizza boxes into a trash can. “What you said to me the other day really stuck with me. That I don’t have to do it all, I dunno. Like, you’re right. I don’t. I can set my own priorities and… boundaries, I guess.”

Eyes fixed on Jeongguk, Taehyung leans his tailbone against the counter of the kitchen island.

“Anyway.” Adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder, Jeongguk opens the fridge and starts rummaging around. “I’m giving that a shot.”

“And how’s it going?” Taehyung asks, fingers drumming absent-mindedly against the countertop.

Jeongguk pulls a glass box out of the fridge, shuts the door, and sets it down on the countertop next to it. Then he goes on to open a few cupboards, getting out a black shaker and a sky blue plastic jar of what Taehyung thinks must be some kind of protein powder.

“Honestly,” he says, unscrewing the lid of the shaker and holding it under the stream of water coming out of the tap. “Pretty okay? No one’s screamed or cried at me yet or told me I’ve disappointed them. A successful two-day streak, I’d say. Go me.”

Taehyung can’t help but smile as he watches Jeongguk scoop a generous amount of powder from the very bottom of the plastic jar, the spoon scratching over the bottom. He hoists himself up on the kitchen island, dangling his legs. “Not bad, Jeon.”

“Thanks.” Jeongguk tips the spoon upside down and lets the powder drop into the shaker. He moves almost without looking at his own movements, the shaking, mixing, cleaning up of supplies a well-known routine. “Gotta say makes finding a time and place to talk with your ex a little more difficult, but I’m not complaining.”

“How so?”

“I don’t really feel like going out tonight, for example.” He scoops up the glass box from the counter and turns on the spot, facing Taehyung.

“Why not?” Almost involuntarily, Taehyung spreads his legs a little wider. Jeongguk glances down immediately, clearly registering the subtle invitation, and something inside Taehyung breathes out a deep sigh of relief when he moves to stand between his thighs.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m hoping someone will call me after their meeting and spend half the night awake on the phone with me.”

Warmth unfolds behind Taehyung’s sternum. He’s so fucking in love he can barely keep himself from slinging his legs around Jeongguk’s middle and yanking him closer.

Before he can do any of that, Jeongguk lifts the glass box between them, its lid cracked open.

“Oh my God,” Taehyung positively moans. “You’ve got more of those blueberry muffins?”

“Made a whole batch of them.”

“The one yesterday was so good I swear my taste buds had an or— Wait. You made these?” Taehyung gawks down at him. “You bake?”

“Why do you sound so scandalised?”

Because with every passing minute Taehyung spends knowing Jeongguk, he understands more and more why Aerin didn’t think twice about marrying him. Taehyung’s pretty sure at this point, a mere three months into fake dating him, he wouldn’t hesitate either.

He doesn’t say that. He plucks a muffin out of the box. And he kisses Jeongguk on the lips. Once, twice. And a third time, because he’s very weak, and also very in love.

***

The drive to the training ground is mostly quiet. Taehyung’s happy and sated from the three muffins he scarfed down on the elevator ride down to the basement garage, and now he’s filing through the pictures and videos on his phone, cropping and editing them while Jeongguk’s right hand is splayed possessively over one of his thighs.

The shot of them kissing in the mirror actually turned out pretty decent. It’s a little blurry, but in an artistic way. Taehyung can spot the smile on his face, and it’s this unguarded, unschooled, real expression of happiness. Seeing himself like that, so open and himself in Jeongguk’s arms makes his head spin and his limbs feel all wobbly and unsteady.

He posts their kiss to his main feed and the video of Jeongguk petting Bam to his story. Neither gets a caption. It’s a little weird, the feeling in his chest when he unleashes the content to his account. Jeongguk’s voice saying “Couple content” is ringing through his head, and that’s what he’s told himself this is, but deep down he knows that’s not true. He’s got this irrational desire to tell the whole world he gets to kiss this man, wants to shout it from the rooftops so everyone knows — and it’s got nothing to do with their deal.

Taehyung fully expects practice to be one of the most boring things he’s ever had to sit through, but it’s actually not. They arrive a little late, so Jeongguk’s whisked from his side pretty much immediately, dragged to the changing rooms under much teasing from his teammates and some scolding from Namjoon. (The way Jeongguk’s face twists when his coach pats his shoulder is so hilarious, Taehyung very nearly forgets himself and drops to the floor, howling in laughter.)

He’s the only one watching the team train. It’s a little lonely, but he figures he can prepare a bit of social media content and hang out on Twitter, both things which he’s been neglecting a little bit as of late.

But he soon gets distracted. He should’ve been expecting this, but it still takes him a bit off guard just how fascinating it is to watch Jeongguk jog a few laps around the field. Maybe it’s the shorts he’s wearing. Or the way his jersey wafts around his body with the movement, cinching at the waist every now and then.

Or maybe it’s just that Taehyung now knows what their bodies feel like when they’re pressed together, hot and passionate and desperate for one another, and he just can’t forget it.

Seoho stops by the edge of the field after his fifth or so round. He grabs a towel from the spot on the bench Taehyung has (stiffly) sat down on and rubs it down his sweaty face. “Hey.” He grins at Taehyung. “Good job on Jeon’s neck.”

Snorting, Taehyung’s eyes scan the pitch. Jeongguk’s not too far from them, also about to finish his final lap together with Hajin, and there’s really no possible way to ignore the hickeys Taehyung gave him earlier. They’re bright, blooming shades of purple, red, pink.

“Not gonna lie,” Seoho says, tone breezy. He swaps his towel for his water bottle. “Kinda surprised seeing you here.”

“Honestly, same,” Taehyung says. It’s at least half true. It’s not like he would’ve said no to Jeongguk inviting him to come along, it’s just that he would’ve never expected him to ask in the first place. But he can’t say that. Would be weird to hear for someone who’s not up to speed on the whole mess Taehyung’s thoughts and feelings are in presently.

“I’m glad about it.” The expression on Seoho’s face drops when he sees Taehyung lifting a brow at him. “Not like that!” He throws a look over his shoulder at Jeongguk. Turns back. Rolls his eyes, and grins. “That’s not what I mean. It’s just… Jeongguk’s one of my best friends, I see him pretty much every day, and it’s just been really nice to see his stupid face all smiley and happy lately.”

Taehyung takes his eyes off Seoho and instead finds Jeongguk again. He’s a couple hundred meters away, slowed down to a walk now, and darting his arm out to playfully shove Hajin aside.

“You’re probably tired of people bringing up his ex all the time,” Seoho tells him, and boy, he’s got no fucking idea. “But that whole thing really messed him up for a while and seeing that now he’s got someone who supports him in what he does is just… really cool, man. He deserves that.”

Seoho’s round face and heart-shaped smile are so endearing and genuine, Taehyung doesn’t doubt for a second he means every word he says. He also doesn’t miss how confidently Seoho’s taken Jeongguk’s side in the face of the whole break-up thing, talking about Aerin with the kind of subtle animosity that comes with being an outside spectator to the situation. Taehyung gets it, if anything, and he finds he’s really glad Jeongguk’s got friends like that.

He shrugs. “He does the same for me, so.”

And that’s true. No one’s ever been so interested and supportive of Taehyung’s career as the guy he’s contractually bound to date until December.

“I’m sure he does.” Seoho’s eyes close almost all the way from the way his grin bunches up his cheeks. He tosses his water bottle to the ground. “He’s like, obsessed with you. This one night Hajin and I forced him to go out to a club with us and I swear he wouldn’t stop ta—”

Grunting, he stumbles forward, interrupted. An all-too-familiar hand has clasped over his mouth from behind, and Jeongguk, his sweaty hair pushed away from his forehead by that one devastating zig-zag headband, has jumped halfway onto his back.

“Oi!” he’s practically yelling. “What’d we say about that night, asshole?”

“Wha’ha’ens in Hongdae stays in Hongdae,” Seoho’s muffled, half strangulated voice sounds between his fingers.

Jeongguk kicks his shin lightly. “Exactly.”

Next to Taehyung, Hajin slumps down onto the bench next to Taehyung. Most of his hair has come loose from the short ponytail he keeps it in and he shakes the strands out of his face before rolling his eyes and saying, in the most sober of tones, “Children.”

But Taehyung can’t help the fondness spreading out on his face and pulling his lips into a smile. Seoho’s words are mixing with the ones Jeongguk’s mother had said to him when they came by for dinner a few weeks ago. Jeongguk’s happier. Jeongguk’s happier because of him. Jeongguk talks about him when he isn’t there.

He thinks back to the time Jeongguk called him in the dead of night when he’d just staggered home from his night out with Seoho and Hajin, insistent on talking to Taehyung all throughout his bedtime routine. What happened in Hongdae had definitely not stayed in Hongdae that night, because Taehyung vividly remembers Jeongguk drunkenly narrating every detail of the evening to him. He also remembers the quiet “I miss you” Jeongguk had mumbled into the phone before drifting off to sleep.

The sharp blow of a whistle tears through the air. Jeongguk hops off Seoho’s back immediately and Hajin scrambles up from the bench next to Taehyung like they’re two pavlovian dogs.

For a moment, Taehyung locks eyes with Jeongguk. His cheeks look a little pink, the dip of his brows a bit sheepish.

Another blow of a whistle.

Instead of running back to the middle of the field, Jeongguk surges forward. Bending down, he tips Taehyung’s head up using two fingers, and then he presses another one of those sweet, sweet kisses to Taehyung’s mouth that make Taehyung feel just a little too close to heaven.

“You’re getting yourself in trouble,” Taehyung tells him, readily accepting another kiss.

But all Jeongguk does is groan quietly against his lips and dig his fingers a little firmer into Taehyung’s chin for a couple seconds before he finally tears himself away.

Taehyung stares after him, cheeks in flames, and his heart thumping violently against the inside of his chest.

***

Practice flies by in a bit of a blur. The team launches into drills, and once the repetitiveness sets in and Taehyung finds himself zoning out more and more the longer he ogles Jeongguk’s stupid half-naked thighs as he runs and kicks the ball over and over again, he figures he should at least pretend to do something productive.

In an attempt to busy himself, he gets his phone back out. The reminder for his meeting this afternoon glares at him from the screen, front and centre. He feels so detached from reality today, like last night’s events caused his whole world to tilt on its axis, and he can’t imagine himself focusing on boring brand talk or a weekly schedule briefing later today.

But he also knows he doesn’t have the luxury to opt out of those kinds of meetings.

Work mode has never been this difficult to switch on, but eventually he does reply to a few messages rotting in his inbox, and he edits some pictures, prepares some social media posts, and then proceeds to get stuck on his own Instagram profile hypnotised by the picture of him and Jeongguk kissing.

They fit together. They look good. But Taehyung already knew that. That’s the reason their relationship works. What really gets to him is how right they look next to each other. How perfect Jeongguk’s hands fit around him. How unfiltered he carries himself.

And that’s when the weirdness sets in.

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he contemplates taking the post down. There’s no real or rational reason for it, he’s got nothing. On the contrary, he’d been excited for the whole world to get an up and close glimpse of his and Jeongguk’s relationship just an hour ago. But now there’s this sinking feeling lodged somewhere between his belly and his chest, weighing down heavily on his insides, making him queasy.

The time Taehyung chooses to spend with Jeongguk outside of work hours is intimate to him. He’s got this whole thing about never allowing anyone to get too close, but there Jeongguk is, in his phone in the middle of the night, in his arms there in the picture, and in his thoughts, right now, always.

People’ve got their eyes on them, and Taehyung likes that they know — that they think — Jeongguk’s all locked down. But it’s about what’s going on behind the scenes. His online presence is one of carefully cultivated snapshots of his personality, enough to make it seem like his followers truly know him, but not enough that they actually do.

But now they’re looking at a private, genuine moment of him. And it feels so similar to the time his and Jeongguk’s hug after the Tigers won their game in Tokyo went viral. Like something’s ripped away from him.

He did it to himself. It doesn’t feel good, this time.

Looking up from his phone screen, he finds Jeongguk, and he wishes so much to just be back in bed with him.

As if sensing his gaze, Jeongguk turns his head. He looks a little starstruck right there, in the middle of the field, in the middle of a drill, just staring back at Taehyung with a clear smile on his lips.

“Jeon, focus!”

Taehyung jumps in his seat, but Jeongguk doesn’t react. A few players to the right, Taehyung spots Yun rolling his eyes and stomping his foot into the ground with so much force, there’s a bit of grass flying about.

“Oh, I swear to fucking God.” Namjoon looks like steam of anger is about to spew out both his ears. He jogs up to Jeongguk, mind apparently set on physically jostling him out of his trance. “Would you mind?”

Jeongguk flinches violently when Namjoon enters his field of vision. He looks at him with huge, round eyes filled with alarm and mild disgust, and quickly scurries off to where he’s supposed to pass a ball diagonally towards the goal.

Halting in his tracks, Namjoon just stands there, a little dumbfounded for what Taehyung knows is the second time that day. He turns on his heel, throwing a look across the field to the bench Taehyung’s sitting on.

Taehyung grins, just a little deviously.

***

Post practice routine involves a sweaty Jeongguk lying shirtless on his back on the lawn, legs propped up so that his shorts fold back a couple inches on his thighs, and his head thrown back, face all twisted in exhaustion and relief that it’s finally over, and Taehyung’s suddenly a huge fan of football. Loves it. Will definitely free up his schedule to come to every single one of Jeongguk’s training sessions.

“Lunch!” Jeongguk demands when his eyes fall onto Taehyung approaching him. He reaches a hand out towards him and simultaneously pulls one of his legs away to dodge a friendly nudge from a walking-by Seoho against his ankle. “Grab lunch with me?”

“Is that how you ask me out on a date?” Taehyung asks, taking his hand and hauling him up from the ground. He lets go a little too soon, too distracted by all this naked, wet skin on display, but Jeongguk doesn’t stumble.

“Yeah. Say yes? Please?”

Opening his mouth, Taehyung is about to do just that, but then his phone gives an insistent buzz in the pocket of his jeans. He gets it out quickly to check it’s not an emergency, and then stops short.

Jiminie
excuse me

Taehyung’s eyes jump toward the time stamp in the top left corner of the screen. 4:05 pm.

Oh, shit.

Taehyung
OH SHIT

“Oh, shit.”

Jeongguk makes a noise of confusion. “Everything o—”

“My meeting.”

“Oh.” Recognition blooms on Jeongguk’s face. His eyes dart around the facility, clearly trying to locate a clock. Taehyung turns his phone for him to see. “Shit.”

He grunts in agreement, fingers already flying across the keyboard and sending another message.

Taehyung
JIMIN IM SORRY IM ON MY WAY
PLS DONT FIRE ME

Jiminie
ngl i am thinking about it

A hand nudges his shoulder. “Come on.”

Looking up, Taehyung finds Jeongguk ready to start towards the changing rooms.

“I’ll quickly get my things and drop you off there.”

“No, it’s fine, I can just take a—”

“It’s no problem,” Jeongguk interrupts him firmly. Leaning closer, he presses a quick kiss to Taehyung’s mouth, and while Taehyung is momentarily reeling from how natural and normal that felt for him to do, he’s already jogging off. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Jiminie
stop making out with your jock bf
and get your ass over here

Taehyung
HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS DOING THAT

Jiminie
i didn’t
but now i do and you’re one step closer to being jobless
AND STOP YELLING AT ME

Taehyung
:( im too cute to be unemployed :(

Jiminie
wanna test that theory out?

Taehyung
jiminnnnn
light of my life

Jiminie
you are damn fucking lucky
i know you’re perpetually late
and meeting at 4 means it starts at 5

Taehyung
I LOVE U

Jiminie
STOP YELLING

GET THE FUCK OVER HERE

Jiminie
LOVE U TOO

***

Taehyung pushes the glass door leading into his agency’s main meeting room open with so much force, it bangs against the wall inside and for one terrifying second he’s actually convinced it’s going to shatter into a million shiny pieces.

But it doesn’t, so he releases a long bout of air before announcing, “I’m here! I made it! I’m so—”

Jimin looks up from where he’s been bent over an iPad together with none other than the man, the myth, the legend, tiny angry man himself, in the flesh — Min Yoongi.

Eyes flicking from his best friend to Yoongi, who hasn’t batted as much as an eyelash at Taehyung’s appearance, and back Taehyung lifts one eyebrow. “Am I gonna get my ass beaten ‘cause I went too vampire on Jeongguk’s throat again?” he asks even though he’s got no idea how Yoongi would know.

“Wha—”

“Don’t ask,” Yoongi says to the screen of his tablet.

“I— Right. Anyway. Congratulations, you made it at last,” Jimin tells him, voice flat. “You are still late.”

Groaning, Taehyung steps closer and drops the to-go cup filled with iced chai and the paper bag carrying what’s left of an everything-bagel Jeongguk had insisted he’d get on their drive here.

“Sorry.”

It had been impossibly hard to say goodbye to Jeongguk. Taehyung’s convinced his lips are going to feel sore for at least as long as his ass will, and he’s surprisingly okay with that.

“Where’s Hobi?”

“Here.” As if on cue, Hoseok walks into the room behind him, shutting the door quietly. He’s impeccably dressed as always, dark slacks and a button down despite the unbearable heat outside. Placing an iced coffee on the table, the ice cubes and straw clinking against the glass, he sits down on his chair. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here for another half an hour at least.”

“How,” Yoongi, still not looking up, asks, “do you all live?”

“Oh,” Jimin says, and Taehyung’s eyes immediately zero in to the point where their shoulders are touching. “We don’t. I’m dead inside, actually.”

Pushing his bottom lip out, Taehyung flops down into a chair. “Hey. I bring you guys good money.”

“At least I can’t argue with that.” Jimin gives him another look, this one a lot more conciliatory. But there’s enough of an edge to it for Taehyung to know he’s treading on thin fucking ice. “Calvin Klein wants to expand their contract.”

Taehyung feels his own eyes widen at that. Now it makes sense Jeongguk’s management is here. Suddenly, he’s at the edge of his seat. Really, he’s got to stop being late to meetings when they continue being good news for him. “What’s that mean?”

“They want you two to become brand ambassadors,” Hoseok says. “You and Jeongguk, of course. And they plan to launch solo social media campaigns of you both along with their bigger global tv ad. And this,” he nods towards Yoongi who promptly lifts the iPad, “is a billboard currently set up in Gangnam.”

Turning his head, Taehyung squints at the picture Yoongi’s showing him. His stomach swoops. Above a busy intersection in the city, there’s a massive screen lit up with a picture of him and Jeongguk from yesterday’s shoot.

“Damn, they are fast,” Taehyung comments.

It’s a teaser, somewhat, the picture. The two of them aren’t fully in frame, probably unrecognisable to anyone who isn’t already interested in them. The black and white shot only shows them from the navel down, the underwear being the focal point, but Jeongguk’s tattooed hands are wrapped around his waist, bunching up his t-shirt, exposing his stomach and the cut of his hip bones, and Taehyung knows exactly which moment this is.

Heat races to his cheeks for the millionth time that day.

“The launch of their main campaign is in just over two weeks,” Yoongi explains. “They’re gonna start teasing like crazy as soon as possible. You two are the best hotshot moneymakers any brand can get their hands on at the moment.”

Taehyung looks at Jimin. He feels a little restless in his seat already, his skin crawling with an abundance of excitement and the need to call Jeongguk. “What was that about solo social media campaigns?”

“I had a zoom meeting with them this morning, and the gist of it is that they thought it’d be good to edit these short videos of the two of you separately,” Jimin says. “See it as a sort of official introduction of you to the brand so people know you’re in association with them.”

With a tiny shrug, Yoongi adds, “It’s smart.”

“You guys gave them one hell of a show, didn’t you?” Hoseok asks, swirling the ice in his coffee with his metal straw.

The smile on Taehyung’s face doesn’t come as natural as he’d like it to. “Yeah.” He nods. “A show.”

Hoseok pats his shoulder in approval.

The rest of the meeting goes by in a haze. Yoongi bids his goodbye once before they can skip to the next topic that doesn’t involve Jeongguk, and Taehyung’s attention is momentarily drawn to the way his fingers linger on Jimin’s wrist after he’s curtly shaken his hand. His index and middle finger press into the spot where Jimin’s pulse must be thumping quickly, and Jimin turns the faintest shade of pink, and Taehyung feels like he just witnessed something he shouldn’t have.

It turns out Taehyung’s back on the nonstop grind now. There’s not a single day off for the next couple weeks, his time divided between photoshoots, castings, meetings, and interviews.

It’s exciting, all this still feels fresh and new, and the breaking news of the day — the CELINE callback is happening at the beginning of next week — is positively mortifying in the best way, but it’s a lot as well.

He keeps his exhaustion locked away behind a mask of engagement and interest, but he already knows he’s going to have to take some time to self-study his google calendar again in detail tomorrow, because he’s processing only about half of what Hoseok and Jimin are saying.

Right when they’re about to wrap up, his phone makes itself noticeable with a slight vibration. He slides it out of his pocket underneath the table and feels his heart lurch into his throat.

Jeongguk’s sent him another screenshot of the text thread with his mother. It shows a photo similar to the one Yoongi had on his iPad earlier and her reaction to it, which is a bunch of overly enthusiastic emojis that make Taehyung grin.

Another text from Jeongguk rolls in: i kinda hate that she’s seen this

Taehyung laughs.

“You’re impossible,” Jimin chides from across the table, and, when Taehyung looks up at him with a caught expression on his face, he adds, “Don’t think you’re getting out of here before you’ve given us every little nasty detail.”

Leaning back in his seat, Hoseok takes a long slurp of his coffee, eyebrows wiggling.

Under the table, another text: call when you’re home?

Chapter Text

[BREAKING NEWS] Love on the Rebound? Jeon Jeongguk spotted leaving ex-wife’s apartment

Eyes still scanning over the headline, Taehyung’s already ripping his phone off its charger and jams his finger down on the TunedIN notification pinged at the top of his lock screen. He’s not sure why he keeps them enabled; they rarely tell him anything useful or interesting or good, and whenever he himself makes the front page, it’s clear that he hasn’t yet managed to upgrade his reputation from ‘amateur porn star now dating South Korea’s Golden Boy’ to anything more substantial. 

But this time around, he’s interested. More than, actually. Consider him fucking hooked, if you will.

As he waits for the short article to pull up on screen, he rakes a hand through his hair. It feels fluffy and light from the shower he’s just taken after dragging himself home the last few hundred yards of the evening run he’d impulsively decided to go on.

On the website, there’s a picture directly beneath the bold headline of the article. In it, Jeongguk’s stepping past a security guard in front of an apartment building in one of Seoul’s fancier neighbourhoods. A mask is obscuring half his face, but it’s by far not enough to properly disguise him. His tattoos are poking out of the short-sleeved Louis Vuitton button down he’s wearing, for one, and his eyes crinkle in the same way they do during post-match interviews, and there’s just no way these thighs belong to anyone but the nation’s best footballer.

He looks good. Of course he does. He looks damn fucking good and expensive with his fitted slacks and silver jewellery, and he carries himself with the sort of nonchalant confidence that Taehyung suspects will never fail to make him feel a little weak in the knees.

After he’s sufficiently zoomed in and out on the photo and thoroughly examined and catalogued the way Jeongguk’s clothes taper around his annoying, stupid, tiny waist, Taehyung swipes his thumb up to scroll towards the body of text further down on the page.

OMG, guys! We’ve got some serious tea to spill! Better hold onto your phones because a storm might be brewing in the love paradise of our current favourite It-couple!

The wording ‘love paradise’ actually makes Taehyung want to shrivel up and die a little bit.

Just a few days ago, Jeon Jeongguk had us positively swooning over his relationship with dashing model, Kim Taehyung, but now our beloved Golden Boy has been caught sneaking out of his ex-wife’s apartment building! *gasp* Can you believe it? The rumour mill is spinning, and we’re left with so many questions!

Dashing. Taehyung purses his lips. That one’s new. He doesn’t hate it.

What does this unexpected visit to his former spouse mean? Could it be a secret meeting to rekindle their romance? Has his relationship with Taehyung gone from #CoupleGoals to #TroubleInTheAir? Could he be cheating?

Our senses are tingling with suspicion. And also, just imagine what poor Taehyung must be going through right now… Does he know about this mysterious rendezvous?

We need answers! Jeongguk, please tell us what’s going on, we can’t keep up with this love rollercoaster!

Cringing so hard it feels like his face is going to crumple up and fall off, Taehyung skips the comment section and instead swishes the website closed entirely.  There’s an ugly twist in his chest. He did in fact not know about this rendezvous. It’s been a little while since he’s seen Jeongguk last. His schedule is packed top to bottom, so even their nightly phone calls have fallen a bit short in the past couple of days.

He’s about to lock his phone when the banner of another notification blinks up at the top of his screen. It’s a message in his work group chat with Jimin and Hoseok. After quickly tapping on it, he finds a screenshot of the same article he’s just skimmed over.

taetae’s onlyfans

Jiminie
explain

Hobi
👀

Taehyung
jimin its past 9 stop working

Jiminie
taking care of your ass is a 24/7 job
apparently

Taehyung
hey be nice im the poor victim of a
potential cheating scandal 😓😓

Hobi
🙊😯😱

Jiminie
jfc i swear i don’t get paid enough

Jiminie
did you know about this?

Theoretically, he had. Last time they spoke, Jeongguk hadn’t been set on a date and time to meet with his ex, but Taehyung had been expecting it to happen sooner rather than later.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, is Jeongguk showing up looking like a fucking five course meal to that particular meeting.

Caught up in a sudden white-hot surge of possessiveness, Taehyung opens his browser back up and zooms in on the photo again. Jeongguk’s turned half away from the cameras, but the fading line of hickeys tracing up the side of his neck is still visible, and with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, it doesn’t look like he put in any effort to hide them.

Sympathy points for that, Taehyung supposes.

Jiminie
babe

Hobi
😟

Taehyung
yes
sorry
no
i mean yes i did know he wanted to catch up
with her but no i didnt know itd be tonight

Jiminie
AND WHY DON’T YOU EVER TELL
ME THIS SHIT

Jiminie
WHY DO I KNOW ALL THE DETAILS
ABOUT HIM PUTTING HIS DICK IN
YOUR ASS BUT THIS IS SOMEHOW
NOT IMPORTANT?????????

Hobi
🤬😂😂

Taehyung
i didnt think itd be interesting ok!!!!

Jiminie
ok two things
first of all
him meeting up with his ex? that’s gossip
that’s tea that’s drama why oN EARTH
ARE YOU THINKING IT’S NOT INTERESTING

Jiminie
second of all the fact that you two have
actual conversations is astounding and
a little scary and i would like to know
more about this character development

Jiminie
third of all you’re making my job harder
than it needs to be i really need you guys
to tell me stuff like this

Taehyung lets himself sink down onto his bed, folding one leg beneath his body. Gnawing at his bottom lip, he stares at Jimin’s latest text. It’s a little scary indeed, the way this whole PR stunt has been gradually spinning out of control, and Jimin doesn’t even know the half of it.

He doesn’t know that these days, Taehyung can’t fall asleep without hearing Jeongguk’s voice over the phone. He doesn’t know Taehyung’s hands get clammy and his heart flutters into his throat when he thinks about when he’ll see Jeongguk next. He doesn’t know Taehyung fantasises about kissing him — not sex, kissing him — all day, every day. It’s stuck on permanent rotation inside his head and he feels a little shaky and unsteady and quite frankly, unwell, knowing it’s been four full days since he’s done it last.

Taehyung
there isnt really anything to know

Jiminie
so he just told you about
meeting his ex mid-fuck

Taehyung
basically

Jiminie
and that like
did it for you??

Well. Taehyung’s not exactly telling the truth here, but one thing he for sure can’t deny is that the need to attach his lips to Jeongguk in one way or another has easily tripled ever since he’s learned he spent the evening with Aerin.

Taehyung
i thought you were done
questioning my kinks

Hobi
😂🔥🤪

Jiminie
god you’re right i’m SO done actually

Jiminie
anyways. now i gotta free up your schedule
enough to squeeze in a date for you and
jeongguk
wish me luck

Jiminie
also give me a raise

Taehyung’s heart beats a little faster at that. He misses Jeongguk more than he’d like to admit. That day, the one after their shoot for Calvin Klein, had felt so domestic and lovely and, most of all, normal that Taehyung had almost started to mistake it for reality.

It’s not. There’s a definite lack of Jeongguk in his current real life, and he doesn’t like that.

Taehyung
ohhh im so famous now i dont
even have time for my bf 😔

Jiminie
you don’t want the public to think that

Taehyung
no i dont youre right
send us somewhere fancy pls 🤑

Taehyung
his treat obv hes the one cheating lol

Jiminie
you’re so—
i’ll see what i can do

Taehyung
take this as an excuse to talk to yoongi again 😊

Jiminie
i don’t need excuses to talk to him

Taehyung
whats that supposed to mean 🧐
PARK JIMIN IS THERE SOMETHING I DONT KNOW?

Hobi
👁️🫦👁️

Jiminie
hobi i swear to god

Hobi
👁️⏜👁️

Jiminie
anyways.
there isn’t really anything to know 😊

Taehyung
i— ok you got me there

Jiminie
😇

Jiminie
tbf tho venting about how annoyed we
are by you and jeongguk is our preferred
way of bondage
*BONDING

Taehyung
DSHJDHFDBF LMAO

Jiminie
😐

Taehyung
well there you go
bonding or bondage
im always happy to help

Jiminie
right. thank you sm

Taehyung
dont thank me now thank me when
youre sucking his dick 🫡

Jiminie
you’re blocked.

Hobi
💩🫡

Letting his phone fall into his lap, Taehyung leans back into the pillows he’s got stacked against the headboard of his bed. Over the years, he’s grown accustomed to doing things on his own, to working by himself for himself, and it’s honestly quite disheartening how a single night spent with Jeongguk is ruining that.

It’s so dumb and silly, but when it comes to Jeongguk, Taehyung sees eye to eye with himself when he was thirteen, hopelessly enamoured by the first boy who’d ever told him he was pretty, as well as the version of himself when he was sixteen, ready to give his all to that guy that chatted him up at the cash register at the movie theatre he used to work at just because he was older and seemed so much wiser and told him he had it, that thing, that aura it took to be a star. He’s blue-eyed; a little reckless, unguarded, naive.

But most of all, he’s real with himself, too. Insecurity and fear are steadily nagging away at him, but it’s impossible to push his feelings down. Endless contemplation is the thing keeping him awake on the days after he and Jeongguk overdid it with the phone calls. He’s overthinking, yes, maybe, probably, but what he’s also doing is truly thinking things through, and it’s led him to a rather simple conclusion: If being with Jeongguk requires him to battle his fear of abandonment and face his attachment issues, he’ll do it, and gladly so. It’s worth it.

And yet already, he’s starting to pay the price for carrying his heart on his sleeve. It’s right there in plain sight, an easy target for carelessly thrown daggers, and Jeongguk’s out talking to the person he used to be married to, the person he’ll never love again, the person he carries around in his wallet, and it stings.

His phone comes to life with another message, and upon seeing half the contact name on the screen, Taehyung can’t pick it up fast enough.

Molden Boy
you up?

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion, Taehyung swipes his finger over his phone. He’s met with the good night text Jeongguk sent him the night before after hanging up the phone and the new message almost twenty-four hours later.

Taehyung
no

Molden Boy
wanna go work out?

Taehyung’s scraped back from a ten kilometre run not even an hour ago, plus he’s already showered, done his skincare, and changed into his designated loafing clothes. He can’t say he particularly feels like exercising again.

Taehyung
sure

Okay, well. Unless said exercise includes Jeongguk, apparently.

Also, Taehyung knows a booty call when he sees one.

Molden Boy
cool :)
we can go to the gym near my place

How convenient. And what’s Taehyung gonna do, say no?

Taehyung
text me the address and ill get a taxi

The three dots start bouncing up and down immediately.

Molden Boy
actually
i’m outside your house right now

Instantly, Taehyung’s head shoots up. His eyes wander from left to right, scanning his bedroom, as if he expects Jeongguk to jump out from behind the hamper all of a sudden.

Taehyung
well thats not creepy at all

Molden Boy
sorry :D
for real though
hurry up i’m waiting :)

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. Not bothering to shoot a quick ‘okay’ or anything of the like Jeongguk’s way, he springs up from his mattress and dives head-first into his closet. As he quickly files through his clothes and picks the ones that are cute but just casual enough to pass as workout attire, he almost forgets he’s at least twenty percent pissed at Jeongguk.

Two minutes later, he’s dressed in a pair of red shorts that cut off mid-thigh and a simple white tee. He pushes a cloth headband into his hair. Immediately pulls it off again. Contemplates. Slides it back on, a little further back this time, but that only makes him look like an egg, so no headband it is. Except now his hair looks curly and messy in the unplanned, unaesthetic way, so he’s left with no choice but to put it back in place.

Just as he heads out the door, a bag containing a change of clothes slung over one shoulder, his phone buzzes with another message from Jeongguk. This time, it’s not a text, but a selfie of him sitting in the driver’s seat of his car and directing an exaggerated frown at the camera, brows drawn all the way together and eyes squinting. Grinning, Taehyung replies with a self portrait of his own, snapped in the mirror of his elevator on the ride down, angelic smile on his face and a goofy peace sign peeking into the frame.

He flies out the front door not a minute after, already scanning the surrounding area of his building for signs of Jeongguk’s car. The sky is a washed out blue, no stars to be spotted anywhere, and the air feels sticky with late-August humidity. Down the street, someone is walking their dog, their phone blaring an upbeat pop song over its speaker.

Narrowing his eyes, Taehyung spins around his own axis once, a little confused. He can’t see Jeongguk’s car anywhere. Instead, he catches a movement somewhere to his left and finds a girl a few years younger than him snap a photo of him as she walks by.

He blinks, momentarily stunned. Over the past few months he’s become used to people out on the streets taking his picture whenever he’s seen with Jeongguk. So far, it hasn’t happened when it’s just him. At least not without the person approaching him to ask for his consent first.

A tingle of excitement shoots through him, makes his stomach feel like it’s crawling with ants. It’s a nice feeling, until it isn’t.

Where the hell is Jeongguk?

The spot he usually parks in whenever he picks Taehyung up is occupied by a vehicle Taehyung’s never seen before. It’s a sleek, expensive one, bright red paint a stark contrast to the black accents here and there, streamlined with narrow windows and its door slightly caved in. Much too flashy for this neighbourhood.

Which is precisely what makes Taehyung halt in his tracks. Adjusting the bag over his shoulder, he angles his head forward and tries to make out the driver through the windshield.

Jeongguk’s already there to meet him. He’s slouched in his seat, head resting against one hand propped up against the door of the Audi, the other stretched out in front of him, fingers tapping along the steering wheel. When Taehyung’s gaze meets his, one corner of his mouth twitches. He cocks an eyebrow.

Irrationally, Taehyung feels his blood start to boil. In a way, it’s good to know Jeongguk’s still got that effect on him. And he’s really going for it tonight, sending clearly ambiguous texts right after he’s made the news with his date with Aerin, and then proceeding to show up dressed in the very outfit Taehyung’s seen him leave her place in, sitting in a new, fancy car, acting as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to Taehyung.

Ripping the passenger door open, Taehyung bites, “Okay, how many fucking cars do you own?”

And Jeongguk — Jeongguk has the audacity to grin at that.

Internally cursing his stupid heart for blasting into overdrive at the sight of his smile, Taehyung plops down into the velvety seat meant for him. After folding his legs into the footwell and arranging them with his bag, he pulls the door shut with a lot more force than strictly necessary, grumbling. “This isn’t working,” he mumbles more to himself than to Jeongguk, because God knows, he desperately needs to be reminded of it. “Told you I can’t be bought. Not with money, and not with other materialistic things.”

Jeongguk watches him click his seatbelt into place. He looks like the epitome of calm, head tilted, legs spread, half-naked chest rising and falling steadily. “I’m not trying to buy you.”

Grunting a noise of disbelief at him, Taehyung falls back in his seat. The car is annoyingly comfortable, and it doesn’t have the stale scent of a new vehicle at all. “Sure,” he huffs. “So you keep showing up in increasingly expensive, increasingly sexy cars for what exact reason?”

Jeongguk raises his brows, both of them, and he shifts in his seat, scooting a little closer. “You think this is sexy?”

Taehyung — glares. He’s not having a great evening, and Jeongguk calling him to be his fuck buddy for the night and then pretending not to be aware of it is not helping.

With his right hand, Jeongguk moves the car from park into drive mode, and then it sort of hovers there, over the middle console, inching closer and closer to the spot just above Taehyung’s knee that’s closest.

Grinding his teeth, Taehyung shifts his legs to the side. It’s frustrating, he doesn’t know what his actual problem is here — except that Jeongguk looks even better in real life than in the pictures, and Taehyung hates that he hasn’t told him this meeting was happening, and they haven’t seen each other in days and that’s doing worse things to Taehyung’s heart than he’d like it to.

Jeongguk pulls his hand back and sighs as he merges onto the street. There are little to no cars underway at this hour on a weeknight. “It’s not mine.”

“Hm?” Taehyung asks the window.

“The car,” Jeongguk says. “It belongs to Jin.”

It makes sense. The music trickling from the speakers is different than usual, more indie than RnB, and while Jeongguk looks damn edible behind the steering wheel, he doesn’t belong there in the same way he does in his own car.

Twisting his head, Taehyung schools his face into an unimpressed expression. A slight raise of one of his brows is all Jeongguk gets. “And you’re driving your brother’s car because…”

Jeongguk takes a swift left at the next crossing. His hand flexes around the steering wheel. He’s wearing three chunky silver rings, and Taehyung wishes seeing them against the tattoos scattered about his knuckles wouldn’t get him all hot and bothered, but alas, it does. Quickly, he concentrates on Jeongguk’s face again.

Which was the right choice. There’s an obvious blush high on his cheeks, plus his ears are beet red, and it’s not a trick of the city lights.

“Oh my God,” Taehyung says. “You are trying to woo me.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk manoeuvres the car one lane over to the right. Then, he stills. “Depends. Is it working?”

Taehyung groans. He folds his arms in front of his chest and nuzzles further back into the seat. “No,” he tells Jeongguk, no longer looking at him. “You gotta try harder for that.”

For a moment, it’s quiet between them, in sound as well as in movement. But then, at once, Jeongguk’s right hand leaves the steering wheel, and this time he’s going for it, slides it on to Taehyung’s left thigh below the hem of his shorts and squeezes lightly, pulling his legs apart.

And Taehyung acts as if his stomach and heart aren’t switching positions inside of him. He forces himself to breathe normally, to not react to Jeongguk’s touch in any way other than the goosebumps erupting on his skin. Instead, he puffs out an indignant breath and focuses on the buildings they’re driving past.

“Okay.” Letting go of his thigh, Jeongguk pokes his fingers lightly into Taehyung’s ribs. Before Taehyung can squirm away (not that there’s much room to do so), he’s already back to clutching at his leg. “What’s up, hm?”

“Nothing.”

Jeongguk cuts him a doubting look. Taehyung feels his gaze linger on the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to meet him. The thing is, he knows he’s behaving irrational and grumpy. He’s missed Jeongguk so much over the past few days, he should be happy to finally be spending some time with him again. But here he is, his stupid brain completely overreacting to this simple catch-up session with Aerin and exaggerating it to something much more intimate. It’s chipping away at him, all this uncertainty and insecurity. He doesn’t know Aerin, and arguably the more pressing problem: He doesn’t know where Jeongguk and he stand.

All of a sudden, Taehyung’s jostled in his seat by a couple right turns taken in quick succession, and before he knows any better, he’s coming to in some sort of dimly lit back alley. There’s a row of dumpsters against the backdrop of a building, and a man dressed in a classy waiter uniform is squinting at them in mild confusion as he finishes disposing of three large trash bags.

Letting go of the steering wheel but not of Taehyung’s thigh, Jeongguk turns in his seat. And then he’s there, just looking for a few long seconds. Sometimes I just can’t get over your face.

Taehyung swallows, hard. Tries to force down the entirety of his sour mood, suck it up, be good.

But he can’t, he knows he can’t, and so does Jeongguk.

The gentle touch of two fingers under his chin, and then Taehyung feels his face being tilted up and around until he’s finally meeting Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Come on, darling, tell me.” Jeongguk lets go of him, but not without brushing a curl that’s stolen out from behind the headband away from Taehyung’s forehead, and what’s Taehyung supposed to do except lose his goddamn fucking mind over this man.

“I just.” He shrugs, defiant. He can’t even hold eye contact with Jeongguk, that’s how childish and inadequate he feels. It’s of no help that the waiter is still there, lingering in the doorway of the back entrance to whatever restaurant he’s working at. “It’s stupid.”

Jeongguk just keeps staring at him expectantly, waiting.

With a deep sigh, Taehyung admits, “I thought you’d tell me when you go and meet up with Aerin.”

Instantly, understanding blooms on Jeongguk’s face. “Oh.” The hand still splayed over the naked part of Taehyung’s thigh begins drawing small circles. “How d’you—”

“TunedIn.”

Jeongguk briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, and this is definitely the wrong moment for Taehyung to fixate on how deep and gravelly his voice becomes when he’s mad. “Already?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re vultures,” Taehyung says and by work of some miracle, he makes it sound off-handed, almost casual. Like it’s not bothering him that some trashy news site knew more than he did. “They probably had the article written and proofread before you were even fully down the driveway.”

“God, that’s so…” With his free hand, Jeongguk momentarily pinches the bridge of his nose. His thumb is still brushing over the naked skin of Taehyung’s thigh, calm and steady. “Shit. What are they saying, I’m getting back together with her?”

There’s a funny feeling swirling around in Taehyung’s belly. The intonation of Jeongguk’s words make them sound like something arbitrary, something ridiculous. I’m never going to be in love with her again, Taehyung.

As he shrugs, Taehyung’s shoulders drag against the material of the seat, emitting a quiet rustling noise. “Among other things. You and her are dating again, you broke my heart, you’re cheating — literally pick your own truth.”

“Except it’s all lies.”

The slump of Jeongguk’s shoulders, the tick in his jaw, it all looks so genuinely affronted by this stupid rumour that Taehyung feels bad for bringing it up in the first place. “Well,” he says, the tone of his voice pointedly airy with lightheartedness. Reaching over, he bumps the tip of his index finger against Jeongguk’s nose. “I sure hope so.”

Jeongguk tips his head back and pretends to bite at Taehyung’s finger, a crooked smile taking over his face when Taehyung yanks his hand back with a gasp. Then, he looks at him. Finds his gaze. Holds it. “Definitely not getting back together with her.”

Taehyung’s heart aches. It aches, and it yearns, and it sings. “Good.”

“I didn’t mean to keep this a secret or anything, by the way,” Jeongguk says, the grip of his hand around Taehyung’s leg growing just a tad bit firmer as if to underline the honesty in his words. “But you’re so busy these days, and this isn’t really something you care about, so I thought—”

Taehyung’s head whips around so fast, his neck cracks. “It’s something clearly important to you, of course I care about it.”

Shutting his mouth, Jeongguk blinks at him, clearly a little taken aback.

“Didn’t feel great to find out through TunedIn, of all things, not gonna lie.” It takes a lot of willpower to keep the sulky pout wanting to take over his face at bay. “But you’re not… I don’t know, obligated to inform me about your dinner plans. Or anything, for that matter.” He bites the inside of his cheek, just once. This might very well be the first time he’s making a cautious effort to say what’s right, and not the thing he suspects people want to hear, or the thing every fibre of his being is begging him to blurt out. “You can do whatever you want. I mean it. But I do care, I really do.”

Cautiously, he slides his hand atop Jeongguk’s on his leg, fitting his own fingers into the gaps between Jeongguk’s. As soon as their hands are properly entangled, Jeongguk lifts them up and to his mouth, grazing Taehyung’s knuckles with one, two, three kisses.

Taehyung can do nothing but watch, his heart jackhammering in his chest so hard, he’s sure he’s all black and blue from the inside. It takes everything within himself not to be greedy, to immediately lunge across the middle console, fit himself neatly in Jeongguk’s lap, and shamelessly beg for his mouth in other places.

“Would you want me to tell you when I go out and meet other people?”

Mouth hanging open, Taehyung realises he doesn’t actually have an answer at the ready. He’s too distracted by the way Jeongguk’s eyes seem to have pulled all the stars from the sky.

Another kiss to the back of his hand.

Forcing himself back to reality, Taehyung clamps his mouth shut. Opens it again. Says, “I just told you you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Jeongguk interrupts him gently. “That’s not the question. I’m asking if you’d want to know.”

“I don’t want to control your life, Jeongguk.”

“I don’t want that either, darling, but that’s not what I’m saying.” The tone Jeongguk’s using on him is doing very dangerous things to Taehyung’s insides. It’s calm, considerate, mature. And maybe it’s silly, considering Jeongguk is what, not more than a couple months older than him, but Taehyung feels a little dizzy anyway. “Just be honest.”

More often than not, that’s the hardest thing for Taehyung to do. Biting his lip, he thinks about it. Not that that’s necessary, he already knows his answer in his heart of hearts. If Jeongguk is out seeing other people, he’d like to know. It’s not like he could or would do anything about it, but being unaware of it, being in the unknown, being committed when Jeongguk is not — he couldn’t take that.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk’s eyes smile before the rest of his face does. “Okay.”

And Taehyung’s so in love with him it actually physically hurts. Somehow, Jeongguk’s managed to tear down every single one of the walls he’d spent his whole life carefully setting up around himself, and now he’s building bridges over the moats Taehyung’s dug around his heart.

Lowering their joint hands, Jeongguk frees his own and slowly brings it up to the side of Taehyung’s face. His touch is impossibly tender where he traces the highest point of Taehyung’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I missed you.” It’s low, his voice, in tone and in volume, almost too quiet to hear. But Taehyung sees his mouth form the words, even in the near darkness of the street they’re parked in. Jeongguk’s lip twitches, and somehow his expression becomes even more honest like that, “Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re on the cover of GQ, and you’re shooting with world class photographers, and you’re going to castings and stuff, but—“

Taehyung can’t stop himself. Surging forward, he breaches the mere inches of distance between their faces and kisses him. He kisses him with all he has, propping one elbow up on the middle console for leverage and lifting himself halfway out of his seat to properly angle his head and pry Jeongguk’s mouth open with his tongue.

Jeongguk sighs deeply out of his nose, his hand immediately sliding along the side of Taehyung’s face and tangling in the hair at the back of his head. Something inside Taehyung howls victoriously as Jeongguk parts his lips willingly. There’s just something about the feeling of Jeongguk going absolutely slack against him — because of him — that he will never get enough of.

When Jeongguk’s grip in his hair tightens just a little, Taehyung comes easily. The semblance of control he’d just revelled in runs right through his fingers, and he watches it slip away gladly, yielding when Jeongguk urges him closer.

Humming in appreciation, Jeongguk’s other hand finds his waist. It fits there with such certainty it’s making Taehyung’s head spin all over again. When there’s a little bit of pressure growing behind the hold, a sigh borderlining an actual groan tumbles out of Taehyung’s mouth, and his legs scramble, feet desperately kicking in the footwell to hoist himself up further.

A dull pain echoes down from the very crown of his head. Reflexes fast, he ducks, pulls his shoulders up protectively, lips unsealing from Jeongguk’s with a wet smacking noise. “Ouch.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk lets go of his waist. The hand tangled in Taehyung’s hair pushes up, carefully rubbing the sore spot at the top where he bumped against the roof of the car. “Oh no. Sorry. You alright?”

“Forget everything I said before, I really don’t like this car.”

Jeongguk’s still holding him close, so when he breaks out into that full force smile that makes his entire face scrunch up, Taehyung gets to witness it front row, and then he realises it’s for him, Jeongguk’s grinning like that because of him, and Taehyung just has to kiss him again, the slight pounding in his head be damned.

“Missed you too,” he says afterward, whispering directly against Jeongguk’s lips.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk brushes their noses together. His hand slips out of Taehyung’s hair and instead rests against the side of his neck.

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes. He tips his head back just a little, stretches his neck just so that the minor shift makes Jeongguk’s thumb slide along his throat until it rests against his Adam’s apple.

He watches intently as Jeongguk’s eyes drop, gaze zeroing in on his own hand as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it. There’s so much want in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, but that’s not all; there’s something softer there, too.

His hand doesn’t move, but instead of exerting any strength on the hold he’s got around Taehyung’s throat, Jeongguk leans closer, connecting their lips again. It’s one of those slow, sweet kisses that somehow get Taehyung more desperate than the searing hot, passionate ones.

“I really don’t like this car either.”

Eyes fluttering open, Taehyung blinks at him a couple times, fast. And then he feels a grin taking over his face with so much force his cheeks are hurting with it. “I guess we should probably get going then.”

“Good call,” Jeongguk says, not moving an inch.

Taehyung presses another peck just off centre of his mouth before leaning back in his seat. The alley around them has gotten a smidge darker, the back entrance to the unknown restaurant firmly shut and the nosy waiter hidden from sight. Inside the car, the air is crackling with tension and Taehyung actually has to shove his hands underneath his thighs in order to keep them off Jeongguk for at least as long as it takes them to get to a place where their confinements are slightly more generous.

Jeongguk shifts the car into reverse and twists around, putting one hand flat to the back of Taehyung’s headrest as he backs out of the dingy street they’ve been parked in. At this point, Taehyung doesn’t know if he simply doesn’t like using the rearview camera or if he’s purposely trying to get him all riled up with this move, but he’s certainly not complaining, no-uh, not with Jeongguk’s bicep right next to his head, no sir.

“So.” Taehyung presses the back of his head against the seat, lest he might do something silly like bite the bulging muscle in Jeongguk’s arm. “What’s Jin thinking about you taking his car for a spin?”

“Oh, he’s got no idea.”

Yeah, Taehyung figured something like that. Still, he turns his head to send a pointed look Jeongguk’s way just as Jeongguk pulls his arm back, seemingly deciding the only rightful place for his hand is the inside of Taehyung’s thigh.

“Or, well.” Jeongguk shrugs with one shoulder. “I imagine he’s noticed by now. I think he meant to go to Namjoon’s at like, eight.”

Laughter tugs at the corners of Taehyung’s mouth, but he keeps it at bay for a little while longer. “And I imagine,” he says, half-heartedly mimicking Jeongguk’s voice, “you forgot to leave your own car keys for swapsies.”

“Oops.”

And Taehyung can’t lie, he’s sort of impressed by how much of a little shit Jeon Jeongguk can be.

“Oh my God,” he giggles. “You’re so petty.”

“There’s a perfectly fine, functioning subway he can take.”

“Ass,” Taehyung says, but it comes out way too fondly.

After setting the blinker to merge back onto the main street, Jeongguk throws him a quick glance. “I had a good reason to take the car, okay?”

“Baby, trying to impress me is hardly a good enough reason to steal a car.” A moment of contemplation. “Although gotta admit I do appreciate it.”

On his thigh, he feels the tips of Jeongguk’s fingers slide underneath the fabric of his shorts. And Taehyung really needs him to stop that, reign it in at least until he can see his apartment building in the distance.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t steal it,” Jeongguk says. “I borrowed it.”

“That’s exactly what people who steal things say, baby.”

It’s a little addicting, feeling how Jeongguk’s grip grows a little firmer every time Taehyung uses the term of endearment on him. How his hand creeps up just a little higher up Taehyung’s leg. How his fingertips are digging into his skin.

“I didn’t steal it,” he repeats, enunciating every word for emphasis. “And second of all, I’ll admit, impressing you was sort of the bonus. The reason I took it was because I thought that’d help keeping people from recognising me round Aerin’s place.” He pauses, index finger drawing a swirling pattern on Taehyung’s skin. “That didn’t work out.”

They take a right at a green light, and then Jeongguk presses his foot down on the gas pedal, the engine revving up audibly as he speeds past a couple other cars. Freeing his left hand from underneath his thigh, Taehyung slides it back on top of Jeongguk’s, partly because he really, really wants to touch him, and partly because if Jeongguk’s hand slides up any higher, the situation’s gonna get awkward.

“And maybe I also took it to be a little bit of an ass.”

That lures another laugh out of Taehyung.

Jeongguk sighs. His fingers arch up on Taehyung’s thigh, wedging themselves into the gaps between Taehyung’s until their hands are properly tangled together again. “Have you heard anything from management already?”

“Oh yeah,” Taehyung says. “Jimin — and, taking an educated guess, I’m assuming Yoongi too — absolutely hate us.”

Groaning, Jeongguk tips his head back against his headrest, eyes staying firmly on the road.

“Looks like we’ve gotta go on another date so that the public knows we’re still a… thing.” He almost says it. He almost calls them a couple. Boyfriends. Heart thumping in his chest, Taehyung tears his gaze away and instead focuses on the knuckles of his own hand down near his lap.

There’s movement beside him, presumably Jeongguk sneaking another look at him. It’s quiet for a long ten seconds. Then: “Oh no.” Jeongguk’s voice is bleeding sarcasm. “What a pity.”

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung wills the wide, absolutely lovestruck grin wanting to spread out on his face down to the barest minimum. He knows he’s blushing, he can feel the warmth rise up the side of his neck to his cheeks. The butterflies in his tummy are in absolute chaos, fluttering so wildly it’s threatening to make him sick.

When he chances a glance Jeongguk’s way, he finds the trace of the same slightly nervous, mostly giddy smile pulling on every feature of his face. And he’s so pretty, such a handsome, beautiful man with the city lights softening the sharp lines and angles of his body just so, and Taehyung loses himself in it, could stare for days, months, maybe years.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes. Before leaving the house, he switched it back to his work focus, so there’s only a limited number of people the notification could be from, and sure enough he’s greeted with a new message from Jimin upon looking at the screen.

It’s another screenshot. TunedIn — again. Just seeing the magazine’s hot pink logo in the top left corner of the picture evokes a twinge of annoyance within Taehyung. Quickly, his eyes scan over the bold headline.

No more panic, folks! Jeon Jeongguk and Kim Taehyung caught smooching on late night car ride, silencing break-up chatter!

Underneath, he finds a couple blurry photos of Jeongguk and himself mere moments ago. The exposure is low and there’s a glare from a nearby streetlamp in the windshield, but there’s no arguing it’s them.

Zooming in, Taehyung swallows thickly. It makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up in discomfort, seeing their kiss from a foreign angle, an outsider’s point of view, from the eyes of a virtual stranger who shouldn’t have been privy to such a private moment.

And it’s not just the kiss. It’s the moments before too, Jeongguk’s hand resting tenderly against his cheek, Taehyung utterly mesmerised by the honey sweet words breathed into the space between them. And the ones after, goofy, half-relieved smiles, Jeongguk’s hand around his throat, the ghost of “Missed you too” on Taehyung’s lips.

That fucking waiter.

“Everything okay?”

Forcing himself to inhale and exhale deeply, Taehyung swishes the screenshot away. For a fraction of a second he ponders whether or not to tell Jeongguk they’ve been spotted. But he’s already kind of made a scene tonight, and he’s afraid of Jeongguk discovering just how crystal clear the love and adoration etched into every feature of his face shines through the gloomy night, plus — he couldn’t take it if Jeongguk’s reaction to this invasion of privacy was indifference or worse, relief.

“Fine.” Taehyung smiles. When his eyes cast downward again, he finds another message from Jimin at the top of his screen.

Jiminie
good job

Taehyung’s rarely felt this dirty and exploited in his life. Locking his phone, he vows not to look at it for the rest of the night.

***

“Hold on.” Turning his head to peer out the windshield, Taehyung squints his eyes against the garish orange light falling in through the glass. Jeongguk’s stopped the car in the parking lot in front of a large, brightly lit building. “We’re actually working out?”

Slowly, and not without brushing his thumb over his bare skin once, twice, Jeongguk extracts his hand from his thigh to push the gear into parking mode and kill the engine. “Yeah.” His eyebrows raise, as does the tone of his voice, making the word sound like a question. “I told you.”

Taehyung tears his eyes away from the gym and finds Jeongguk’s gaze instead. For a moment, he stares, incredulous, trying to determine whether Jeongguk is shitting him or not. To Taehyung’s horror, he seems to be absolutely serious. “It’s like ten thirty in the evening.”

Jeongguk places an elbow on the centre console, blinking at him calmly. “Darling, what’s your point?”

Holding eye contact with Jeongguk is always a little thrilling, and now that Taehyung’s fierce glower is met by complete placidity, it sends a hot zing of excitement mixed with just the right amount of spite up his spine.

“My point is” Straightening up, Taehyung places his own elbow right next to Jeongguk’s, their warm skin touching. He makes himself a little taller in his seat until they’re looking at one another at perfect eye level. “that I thought by exercise you meant you’d finally stop teasing and put your dick in my mouth.”

And really, by now he should be used to Jeongguk’s unpredictability. But apparently, he’s not, so it takes him by surprise when Jeongguk stays perfectly still across from him. Not one of those all too familiar eye rolls, no scowl, not even a twitch of his mouth. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Except: “Who says I didn’t mean exactly that?”

Taehyung feels his lips part in perplexity. His eyes jump up, meet Jeongguk’s straight on, and he feels them involuntarily grow a little wider. His mouth is dry, any witty retort he might’ve come up with evaporated at the tip of his tongue, and there’s a thin layer of goosebumps spreading down his forearms.

Another thing he should be used to by now but definitely isn’t: Jeongguk being the only person to render him speechless in a matter of moments.

And he knows it, is the worst thing. Jeongguk knows the effect his suggestive words and calm posture have, separately and, worse, when combined. Taehyung’s sure he does, he can tell by the way a slow, positively devilish grin creeps onto Jeongguk’s face. It pulls at one corner of his mouth first, reveals a hint of teeth, and it makes the glint in his eye pop, and Taehyung’s transfixed by it.

Which is something that will absolutely not do. He can’t grant Jeongguk the satisfaction of winning another round of bickering.

His heart is wild in his chest, performing one daring somersault after the other, but he ignores it, somehow. With a grunt, he falls back into his seat, effectively bringing some much needed distance between himself and Jeongguk’s mouth. “Pretty presumptuous to think I’d blow you in some random parking lot.”

He’s doing it again. He’s playing with fire, willingly poking the flame until it bites back, already addicted to the electrifying burn.

And it gets him precisely what he wants.

Jeongguk’s still in his seat. Not a single sign of hesitation or falter in his demeanour. He’s still looking at Taehyung, the expression in his eyes so heavy Taehyung feels pinned down by it. “Not the parking lot.”

Pulse thumping deafeningly in his ears, Taehyung rips his eyes away from him. His gaze flicks to the building ahead of them, takes note of the cars occupying the lot around them, a group of men shuffling into the main entrance of the gym.

“Looks like quite a few people like working out this late.”

Jeongguk hums. “And?”

Whirling around in his seat, Taehyung stares back at him. And then finally, fucking finally, Jeongguk gives him something. It’s barely anything, the quirk of his eyebrow is almost not noticeable at all, but Taehyung catches it anyway. He sees it, and he understands the challenge behind it.

It’s more than enough to get him out of the fucking car. Hands and feet scrambling to push the passenger door open, he spots the corners of Jeongguk’s mouth tug up into a satisfied grin in his peripheral vision.

The slamming of two doors and the click of the car’s lock later, they’re walking towards the gym’s glass entrance. Jeongguk’s a little faster than him, or maybe Taehyung’s just loitering behind, immensely distracted. He can’t help it, alright, it’s like there are gravitational waves exuding from Jeongguk, and he has to do everything in his powers not to immediately attach himself to his side koala-style.

It’s just so, so unfair, is the thing. No one should look like this. No one should be as devastatingly handsome in a black shirt and black slacks, and especially not with an extremely-out-of-place seeming duffle bag dangling off one shoulder.

So, Taehyung’s staring. Again. It’s sort of his default setting at this point.

Jeongguk turns his head, and Taehyung can only guess he’s been feeling his eyes boring into the side of his face. He adjusts his bag. Smiles a bashful smile that makes it all so much worse.

“You just said all this to get me out of the car, didn’t you.”

At that, Jeongguk puffs out a breathy laugh. He’s shaking his head, almost imperceptibly, and then the next thing Taehyung knows is there’s an arm wrapping firmly around his waist and he’s being pulled into Jeongguk’s side. The heady scent of honeysuckle engulfs him, and it’s so familiar by now, he can’t stop himself from leaning in and inhaling deeply.

“Maybe.” Jeongguk leans in and kisses his cheek. “Or maybe not.”

“So mysterious.”

“Gotta keep you on the edge of your seat.”

“Oh, on the edge I am,” Taehyung murmurs, sullen.

He spends the rest of the walk up to the pristine, marble front desk of the gym grumbling to himself. He’s only doing it for the hell of it, he knows; there’s nothing to actually complain about. Sure, he’d like to have his hands and mouth all over Jeongguk, he’d like that very much — but he’s not picky. He’ll take what he can get.

And what he gets turns out to be more than he could’ve imagined.

The young woman working the reception desk gives them a warm smile, and Taehyung can only hope she’s getting paid a good sum to be working this late. After she’s exchanged a more personal greeting with Jeongguk, she waves both of them through.

It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to realise this gym is on another level from what he’s typically used to. He’s still a member of the same joint he signed up at when he first moved to the city years and years ago, some chain with outdated, cheap equipment and a lacklustre selection of fitness courses. This place? It has crisp, metal signs mounted to the wall leading the way to the freaking spa & sauna.

Even the changing rooms appear luxurious, complete with a dark tiled floor and low, dramatic lighting accentuating every detail of Jeongguk’s face when Taehyung looks at him. Good place for shirtless mirror selfies, he supposes, and then he curses himself for conjuring up that mental image.

The lockers are made of expensive wood, tall and wide enough to fit an entire human inside. When Taehyung throws his bag inside, he’s a little scared the closet’s going to swallow it up like a black hole. The whole space smells clean and fresh, like citrus fruit, and there’s not a single speck of dirt or loose hair on the ground.

Without any warning, Jeongguk drops his duffle bag onto a wooden bench and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Flustered but pretending hard not to be, Taehyung curls his toes into the soles of his trainers and averts his eyes. It’s fine, he can be normal. He can totally act respectful, cool, and composed around a half-naked, soon-to-be sweaty Jeongguk whom he missed greatly these past few days.

No problem.

“Ready?”

Letting his back fall against a closed locker, Taehyung allows himself a single moment of weakness, gaze hungrily dragging up and down Jeongguk’s body as he stows away his bag. He’s changed into a pair of grey basketball shorts and an oversized black t-shirt, its sleeves obscuring most of the tattoos on his upper arms. There’s a metal water bottle with a star pattern wedged under his left armpit, a towel and a thick belt hanging over his right shoulder.

“Yeah.”

The cardio area of the gym is adjacent to the changing rooms, rows of treadmills, ellipticals, and assault bikes facing a large window front looking out into the neighbourhood surrounding the gym. There’s an upbeat pop song blaring from the speakers in every corner of the room, something much too fast and cheery for this time of night.

Jeongguk beelines for the treadmill all the way to the right and Taehyung trots after him, watching as he hops on without thinking twice about it and situates his water bottle in the intended bracket at the head of the machine with a clinking noise. Belt and towel are mindlessly dropped to the floor. There’s the sound of two squeaky beeps and then the treadmill starts rolling.

Taehyung’s in no rush to get his work out started. He’s already run more than enough today, fulfilled his daily 10k and then some, so he’s slow in the way he climbs up on the machine to Jeongguk’s left and starts it at the lowest setting. Next to him, Jeongguk’s cranked the speed up to a leisure jog, but Taehyung’s seen him race laps around a football pitch and barely break a sweat, so he’s not surprised by the unbothered look on his face.

“So.” Taehyung turns around on his treadmill, walking backwards so he can keep his eyes trained on Jeongguk.

"So," Jeongguk echoes, voice level and free of any strain of exercise.

For half a minute or so, Taehyung simply just watches him. It’s a tiny bit distracting, the bouncing and creasing of Jeongguk’s wide t-shirt around what Taehyung knows is his stupid, chiselled waist. He has the dumbest fantasies about this waist, like wrapping his arms around it in his sleep or kissing the narrowest part of it as his mouth wanders further down.

He clears his throat, says “So” again, and then: “How was your day?”

The smile on Jeongguk’s face is sweet, and it warms Taehyung’s chest from the inside out. They ask each other this question every night on the phone, but it’s usually Jeongguk who initiates it.

With his right hand, Jeongguk reaches out and dials the speed of the treadmill up a couple notches. Still, the soles of his feet barely emit any sound every time they pound down.

“It’s actually been pretty good,” he says, and if Taehyung wasn’t so stupidly gone for him, the way his tone still doesn’t waver even as he’s running at an 10 mph pace would annoy him to death and beyond. “Took Bam to a training session at the dog training centre this morning and now he can do this trick where you pretend to shoot him and he plays dead.”

Taehyung grins. “Useful.”

“It actually is.” Jeongguk’s laugh sounds a little more huffy and puffy than usual, so maybe the running is getting to him after all. “I originally wanted to teach him a command that’d get him to stop chasing the birds in my parents’ garden whenever we’re there. He plays deaf to that, but if I fire finger guns at him he will instantly lie down no problem.”

“Well, whatever works,” Taehyung says, pushing his bottom lip out slightly. “He’s adorable, I miss him.”

“He’s probably gonna be awake when we get home,” Jeongguk hums.

Taehyung’s feet catch on the treadmill and he stumbles. Luckily, he manages to catch himself before he can fall. When we get home. We.

 Apparently unfazed, Jeongguk’s left hand reaches up, rubbing over his forehead beneath his bangs. There’s a little bit of sweat starting to bead at his temple. “I mean, unless Jin’s kidnapped him as payback. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“You two really got a war going, hm.”

Jeongguk mutters something unintelligible under his breath before slowing his machine down to a comfortable jog again. It’s actually painful, how cute he is with his lips pursing into a full on sulky pout at the mention of his brother.

“What about your day?” Jeongguk asks. His fingertips grab the front of his t-shirt, quickly fanning it to and fro his chest in an attempt to cool himself down.

“Busy.” Taehyung stifles a yawn and sighs instead. It’s true, it’s been another day he’s absolutely raced through, hurrying from one appointment to the next, barely time to catch his breath or take a minute to marvel at what his life has become over the past couple of months. He’s exhausted from it all, yeah, but he’s also excited about everything. “I had like, four castings before noon today. And then instead of grabbing lunch, Hobi dragged me to a meeting, and that lasted for fucking ever.”

Jeongguk’s face twists in sympathy as he reaches forward and gradually turns the speed of his treadmill down until he’s walking. The side of his neck where the marks Taehyung’s mouth left behind disappear into the neckline of his t-shirt is glistening with sweat. “What was the meeting about?”

“Mostly about possibly extending the brand deals I have right now,” Taehyung says. “But we’re trying to shift my” He alters the tone of his voice to the serious, business-like one Jimin always uses when discussing this topic. “social media presence away from being your typical influencer and more towards, well, modelling. Which is what I do.”

The encouraging nod Jeongguk gives him should not make him feel so many butterflies.

“It’s way more complicated than it sounds, because continuously working with brands actually means pretty steady – and high – income, whereas modelling… bit of a leap, you know. More unpredictable. Anyway. You’d be surprised for how long some people can talk without really saying anything.”

“Oh, I know,” Jeongguk cringes. “Had my fair share of those kinds of meetings.”

Stopping his treadmill, Taehyung props his elbows backwards against the front of the machine. “I’m kinda hoping I won’t have them for a while. We’ve decided to take the leap and let my current contracts run out and then focus solely on,” he lets his head loll back into a seductive pose, “the thing I actually moved here for.”

Eyebrows jumping up, Jeongguk presses his index finger down on the red button of his own treadmill. It takes him a moment longer to fully come to a halt, pace progressively slowing down until he’s standing still. “That’s kinda a big deal, right?”

Taehyung shrugs, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch. “Kinda.”

Beaming at him, Jeongguk grabs his water bottle and bounds off the treadmill. “That’s amazing,” he says, picking his things up from the ground before straightening back up to look at Taehyung.

Taehyung presses the lines of his teeth together and gives him a slightly awkward, boxy smile. “Hope I don’t fuck it up.”

Frowning, Jeongguk slings his towel around his neck, patting away the drops of perspiration on his skin. “You won’t.”

He says it with so much conviction and certainty, it’s almost enough to ease Taehyung’s mind. Pushing himself back into an upright position, he walks toward the end of the treadmill and hops off. His legs feel a little shaky, and it’s not because of the exercise. “The CELINE callback is tomorrow.”

Jeongguk lets go of his towel, lets it rest against his collarbones. He gapes at him, and it’s sweet, so sweet, how he clearly remembers how important this is to Taehyung. These past couple of days, they haven’t talked about anything work related. Their phone calls lasted much shorter than what Taehyung had grown so used to, and they’d mostly shared insignificant little anecdotes with one another.

And Taehyung likes it like this. So much. Wouldn’t change it for the world. Would listen to Jeongguk telling him about the time he forgot his keys the first time he ever got drunk and had to ring his mother out of bed at 4 in the morning only to puke all over the welcome mat as soon as she pulled the front door open for him. Would stay up way too late just to hear Jeongguk ramble on about his favourite music, favourite food, favourite everything.

“Are you nervous?” Jeongguk asks, unscrewing the lid of his bottle.

Actually, Taehyung’s dying a little more inside with every minute the clock inches closer to ten a.m. the following morning. “Tiny bit.”

And Jeongguk sees right through him. For a moment, his eyes go all soft on him, and Taehyung just knows he truly gets it, has stood with his toes peeking over the cliff more than once and has decided to take the jump.

“Want a distraction?”

“Please.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Taehyung snags the water bottle out of his hand and takes a sip despite not feeling particularly thirsty. Not for water, anyway. “Why else would I have agreed to go to the gym with you at ass o’clock at night?”

Jeongguk pries the bottle free from his grip and gulps down a few mouthfuls of water himself. His throat moves up and down enticingly as he swallows, and when he’s finished, the wet shine of his lips is almost too distracting for Taehyung to catch what he’s saying next, “Thought it had something to do with wanting to suck my dick.”

“Wishful thinking,” Taehyung quips easily, because if Jeongguk wants to play, he’ll fucking play.

“Right.” With an all-too-knowing smirk, Jeongguk twists the lid back onto his bottle. Then, he starts fumbling with the belt and towel dangling over his shoulders. “Let’s work out, then.”

Taehyung has the grace and composure to wait until Jeongguk’s turned away from him and started off towards a different area of the gym before rolling his eyes and letting his head droop all the way back, mouthing a quick prayer for strength towards the ceiling. Groaning in annoyance, he trots after Jeongguk, the soles of his trainers squeaking with every other step.

They start with pull-ups. Because that’s totally something Taehyung can do. No big.

As soon as Jeongguk arrives at the scaffolding, he ditches the utensils he’s carrying around to the floor and jumps up to the bar, hands wrapping tightly around the metal, the muscles in his arms straining already just from holding his body weight. Wrapping his arms around his own midriff, Taehyung gets the distinct sense Jeongguk’s wanting to show off a little as he launches straight into a set of ten.

And well, it certainly works, Taehyung can’t argue with that.

Jeongguk’s t-shirt is a baggy fit on him, but still, Taehyung can make out the exact shift and contraction of his muscles underneath the fabric, shoulder blades drawing together with each pull-up. The sleeves fold back a little, exposing more of the tattooed skin of his upper arms, and Taehyung has to actually hold on to one of the metal pillars of the framework to keep himself steady.

Somehow, it gets even worse. After his last pull-up, Jeongguk lets himself dangle from the bar, arms extended all the way, feet hovering a couple inches above the ground. Like this, his t-shirt rides up and reveals to Taehyung just how low the basketball shorts sit on his hips. Marvelling at the sharp, defined lines carving Jeongguk’s lower abdomen, he feels his mouth water.

It’s pathetic, maybe, a little. But thinking about it, so far, he hasn’t really had an opportunity to simply let himself enjoy the view. During their Calvin Klein photoshoot, there’d been cameras all around, the people behind them assuming the sight of Jeongguk’s abs was nothing new to Taehyung.

And after that — well, Jeongguk’s mouth had posed a bigger distraction.

Jeongguk’s shirt drops like a curtain when his hands let go of the bar, and the thud of his shoes against the floor abruptly yanks Taehyung out of his trance. His eyes snap up, only to find Jeongguk’s rosy face smirking slyly. Dusting his hands off on his shorts, he says, “Your turn.”

Despite popular belief, Taehyung actually can do a pull-up. In fact, he can do two, thank you very much. And he’s determined the hot mix of spite and what is probably the beginning of arousal swirling around in the pit of his stomach can power him through the remaining eight of the set.

He accepts the challenge Jeongguk’s throwing his way with a simple, almost unimpressed quirk of his eyebrow before swapping places with him. Rolling his shoulders a few times, he watches Jeongguk do the same out of the corner of his eye. And then the fucker has the audacity to pull the nth unfair move of the evening; he lifts his t-shirt by the hem and dabs it around his face and neck, completely ignoring the towel he brought with him.

Grinding his teeth, Taehyung jumps up, his palms circling around the metal bar and holding on with a fierce grip. He keeps his eyes trained forward, forcing himself not to pay attention to Jeongguk next to him.

The first three pull-ups come so easy, it stuns him a little. Spite really is his gasoline, huh. Except then — at the precise second the astonishment about his sudden mutation into basically the Hulk himself sets in, so does the burn in his muscles.

Ah, shit.

Taehyung feels his face crease in exertion as he extends his arms to slowly lower himself back down. Every part of his body is screaming at him to let go of the metal bar, but he doesn’t. As compensation for that, his hands break out into a sweat.

Great.

“Come on, you’re already tired? That’s not even half of the set,” Jeongguk comments from the sidelines.

“Fuck you.” Taehyung tries to channel all the strength he has left into the muscles needed for the exercise, but it’s futile. It feels like his upper arms are going to burst with the effort of holding his body weight, his elbows close to snapping like a pair of twigs. He kicks his feet in the air, but that only tires him out more.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeongguk says, and he’s not even trying to keep his voice down when he adds, “Later.”

That gets Taehyung. His hands unclasp around the bar and he lands on his feet much less gracefully than Jeongguk had. With a low, annoyed groan, he whirls around towards him and places his palms against his stupid broad chest, ready to shove him against the nearest wall. But he truly maxed out his physical effort with those three-and-a-half pull-ups, so Jeongguk doesn’t move an inch. He laughs, his hands coming up to close around Taehyung’s wrists to hold on to him.

“Want help?”

“Want you to… to…” There’s a variety of ways this sentence could end. fuck off. fuck me. kiss me. take me home. Taehyung just so stops himself from saying any of them.

“To?” Jeongguk prompts, the last trace of his laugh still apparent in his eyes. He’s looking straight at Taehyung, as if he’s completely unaware of the world around them.

Taehyung looks back, lets himself be pulled in by those trusting eyes. His elbows bend the further he steps up to Jeongguk, gaze flicking up and down his face.

Suddenly struck by an idea, he halts. Shifts his mouth into a pout that passes as a little sulky, but mostly cute. Lets his eyes soften into a puppy dog stare.

The effect is instantaneous. The hold of Jeongguk’s hands around his wrists loosens a little and he tilts his head, puzzled.

“Want you to help me,” Taehyung says. He takes another step closer and brushes their noses together. “Please.”

This abrupt change in both behaviour and tone has Jeongguk staggering cluelessly, Taehyung can see it. The bamboozled look on his face is hilarious, but what’s even funnier is how hard he’s trying to mask it. “Um, yeah, okay.”

Taehyung gives him a positively angelic smile before winding his forearms free and sauntering back up to the bar. He doesn’t turn his head, but he waits until he hears Jeongguk’s footsteps and feels him right behind him before he raises his arms and jumps.

Immediately, he can tell he won’t be able to do even one full pull-up this time around. Muscles straining, he makes a genuine gurgling noise as he tries to lift himself up further.

Jeongguk reacts immediately, just like Taehyung thought he would. His hands fly up, wrapping around the lower part of Taehyung’s thighs and steadying him.

“Okay,” he says, voice low. “C’mon, seven to go.”

With his lids shut, Taehyung rolls his eyes. But he does engage the muscles in his back and arms to hoist himself up, and it’s easier this time, the gentle hold Jeongguk has on him supporting some of his weight.

“Good,” Jeongguk murmurs as Taehyung lowers himself back down, and Taehyung’s honestly tempted to kick his feet out backwards to get him to stop using that deep, calm voice on him.

But he doesn’t, because yes, he’s in fact being very good. So good that he lets his body drop a little more, the corners of his mouth twitching when he feels Jeongguk’s grip grow a little stronger. His fingers are properly digging into the flesh of Taehyung’s thighs now as he guides him into another repetition of the exercise, his thumbs involuntarily slipping past the leg hem of Taehyung’s shorts.

Fifth one — done. Taehyung huffs out an exhausted breath of air. It’s definitely easier with Jeongguk’s help, but there’s no way he can do a set of ten right now.

Which means he has to amp up his offence a bit.

As he launches into the sixth rep, he curves his back a little more as his shoulder blades draw together. Jeongguk lets out a sharp gasp behind him as his butt pushes out further, and his hands slip up higher, disappearing almost all the way under the fabric of Taehyung’s shorts.

When Taehyung stretches his arms back out this time, he sighs. Loudly. Allows his head to hang back, breathing heavy. A thin layer of sweat is starting to coat the back of his neck underneath his curls. Behind him, Jeongguk shifts slightly closer, the grip of his hands growing firmer. He’s carrying about a third of Taehyung’s weight at this point, which helps, but isn’t enough.

“Can’t do it,” Taehyung grunts, and he’s not even pretending. He’ll admit defeat in the face of an overall win.

“Yeah, you can,” Jeongguk says behind him, voice low and calm and just the right amount of assertive to make Taehyung’s head spin.

Oh, not this. Taehyung won’t let himself be talked into subspace in the middle of the gym when he’s got a fucking point to make.

His palms burn and his fingers feel slippery around the metal, but he flexes them around the bar anyway. When he’s sure he’s got a good hold, he lets his body go a bit more slack. Huffs out a whine, too, for good measure.

Jeongguk’s response is quick, again. With no hesitation, his hold around Taehyung’s legs becomes tighter. His hands slip up, fully beneath Taehyung’s shorts, and then they’re pressing right into the seam where Taehyung’s thighs transition into his ass.

And Taehyung knows he’s won. His body is close enough to Jeongguk to feel the sudden irregularity of his breathing. But still, he wants Jeongguk to give up, so for what he knows will be the last time, he pulls himself up. Moans stumble out of his mouth, partly exaggerated, partly genuine.

His chin makes it about a quarter of the way up to the bar before Jeongguk breaks.

“Okay, it’s—” Somehow, he sounds severely more breathless than Taehyung. “Stop. Let go.”

Taehyung grins. He successfully bargained a set of ten pull-ups down to six with assistance and a break in between just by letting Jeongguk touch his thighs — nice job.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words leave Jeongguk’s mouth, his hands snap open, letting go of the bar.

The hold Jeongguk has on him makes the landing on the ground much softer and more calculated, but as soon as he’s got a flat surface back beneath his feet, Jeongguk’s fingers fly off him. In the mirror on a wall a few feet ahead, Taehyung watches as he turns around and rakes one hand through his hair while the other adjusts his t-shirt to ensure it’s sufficiently covering any suspicious activity south of his navel.

Immensely satisfied with himself, Taehyung bites the inside of his lip as he schools his face into a perfectly unassuming expression before ducking down to grab Jeongguk’s towel and lay it around his neck.

Jeongguk clears his throat. Spins around on the spot. Makes a dive for his water bottle.

“So. What next?” Taehyung asks, feigning innocence. He has half a mind to suggest the shower rooms, more than eager to take care of what Jeongguk’s trying to hide with that big shirt of his, but he stops himself just in time. Can’t poker too high.

“Huh?” Jeongguk’s head jerks towards him, the look in his eyes slightly unfocused. God, he really is an easy target, Taehyung almost pities him. “Oh, uh.” His brows furrow, and Taehyung can tell he’s weighing his options carefully. There’s no way they’re following an actual workout plan anymore, if they ever have. “Let’s do deadlifts.”

Oh, okay, yeah, no, thanks, he can do those by himself, that much is sure.

“‘kay.” The sweetest of smiles smooths over Taehyung’s features. “Let’s do that.”

***

Deadlifts are another test to Taehyung, although this time he’s pretty sure Jeongguk doesn’t mean for it to be. It’s not his fault Taehyung’s brain clocks out the moment he clips on that belt, hitching it tight around his waist. It’s not like Taehyung’s got any idea what that thing is even good for, but he doesn’t particularly mind it that much, not when it does so well in conspiring against the annoyingly baggy fit of Jeongguk’s shirt.

The corner of the gym they’ve moved to is one right at the intersection of two wide mirrors spanning the entire length of two perpendicular walls. Which is just great, because now Taehyung can’t even pretend not to ogle the curve of Jeongguk’s spine; no matter which direction he angles his gaze in, Jeongguk’s always in his field of vision, begging to be the focal point.

And Taehyung is weak, so he stares. He stares as Jeongguk pushes both his hands into his hair to comb it off his forehead. Stares as he rolls back the wide sleeves of his t-shirt. Stares as he drags over a truly excessive number of weight plates and stacks them evenly on each side of a metal bar.

Yeah, there’s no way Taehyung’s even going to attempt to lift what seems to be about twice his body weight. He doesn’t feel like throwing his back out tonight. Not like this, at least.

But fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Jeongguk expects him to venture anywhere near the weights. He looks quite content where he’s flexing his fingers around the bar to test his grip, and slowly but surely, Taehyung gets the sense that he never cared about working out together — it’s more about spending time with each other.

Warmth unfolds right behind his sternum and mixes with the scorching heat already simmering in the pit of his stomach. It still overwhelms him, this mingling of lust and love, and for a moment it’s really, really difficult not to surge forward and kiss the living daylights out of Jeongguk.

Determined to keep his hands to himself, Taehyung wraps his arms loosely around his middle, stepping back until his shoulders fall backwards against the mirrored wall. He lets his head loll back and his hips jut out into a relaxed, comfortable stance. At the far end of the hall, he sees the friendly woman working the front desk waving a couple goodbye. Brows furrowed, he lets his eyes do a quick sweep of the space around them. The crowd of late-night gym-goers appears to have thinned out dramatically over the past ten minutes. All he spots is one guy who looks suspiciously like the male lead of one of the dramas he binged a couple months ago, back when he still had time to breeze through half a season a day like it’s nothing. From another, hidden section of the room echoes the heavy sound of a barbell being dropped to the floor. He doesn’t have a watch to check the time, but they must be inching closer to midnight.

In front of him, Jeongguk shuffles his feet apart, shins barely an inch away from the barbell he’s about to lift. His fingers wrap tightly around the metal, veins popping on the back of his hands.

Taehyung considers this a great moment to ask: “How was your dinner with Aerin?”

Jeongguk’s gaze jumps up immediately, but he doesn’t falter in his movements. “Pretty” — Fixing his shoulders and engaging his core, he straightens up and lifts the weighted bar. — “okay” — After holding it for a beat, forehead creased from exertion, he slowly bends over again until the weight plates softly hit the thick, hard rubber mat spread across the floor in this section of the gym. — “actually.”

Gnawing at the inside of his cheek, Taehyung bumps the heel of one of his feet against the tip of the other. “Cool.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “I mean, nice.” Jeongguk is looking at him, so he shrugs his shoulders in what he hopes passes for nonchalance. “That’s good.”

Jeongguk hums, reaching down for the barbell once again. “Yeah,” he says, positioning his hands. “I was there for longer than I thought I would be.”

God, Taehyung hates himself and his big fucking mouth. He’d be better off not knowing Jeongguk had so much fun hanging out with his ex he completely lost track of time. “She still living in that house you bought?”

This time, the weights hit the floor with more of a thud. Huffing, Jeongguk wipes the underside of his chin along the neckline of his t-shirt. “No,” he says. “She sold it.”

A bitter sense of complacence accompanied by a strong urge to square up and protect cuts through the fuzzy feelings bubbling around inside of Taehyung. It doesn't come as much of a surprise that Aerin turned what the divorce left her into a pretty good deal, meanwhile Jeongguk’s sharing a flat with his brother.

“Which I’m honestly so glad about,” Jeongguk says, rolling his shoulders back before bending down and placing his hands around the metal again. “I would’ve hated if she’d kept the place we chose together.”

At once, Taehyung’s chest deflates. Thinking about it, perhaps Jeongguk’s got a point there. It’s impressive, how rational and mature he is in looking back on his past relationship, all while Taehyung has to force himself to sheath his daggers at the mere mention of it.

“So you just,” Taehyung shrugs again. This time, the movement feels a bit choppy, “hung out at her place and talked?”

Hands clasped tightly around the weight, Jeongguk straightens up, his muscles straining. Even in the artificial light of the gym, he manages to look golden, the prominent sheen of perspiration making his skin glow. Marvelling at him, Taehyung wonders what it would feel like to swipe the tips of his fingers along the curve of his neck. To kiss the hinge of his jaw when it’s shiny with sweat like that. To bite his lips so hard he gets him to groan his name.

Just normal Tuesday night pondering.

“Pretty much,” Jeongguk finally huffs as he sets the weight back down.

Momentarily, Taehyung’s reeling. What question did he ask again?

But thankfully, Jeongguk has the grace and kindness to elaborate without having to be prompted into it. Taehyung’s getting the slight hunch that he might be a tad obvious in his staring. Quickly, he casts his eyes downward, focusing on Jeongguk’s ankles instead.

“We made dinner and then just sat out on the balcony and talked.”

Ah, right. They were talking about the date Jeongguk had with his ex-wife before he quite unceremoniously slid into Taehyung’s dms to lure him to the gym under the (possibly) false pretence of a blowjob. Because that’s what this fucking is, isn’t it. She gets the starry night musings over a home-cooked meal and a glass or two of an expensive red, and he gets the midnight booty call.

It’s always going to be like this. He’s never quite enough. Always the pathetic, dirty little slut.

A sudden, metallic clicking sound cuts through Taehyung’s thoughts before they can form a proper spiral. Snapping his gaze back up, he finds Jeongguk unclasping the belt around his waist. One end of it remains in his tight grip while the other falls away with a dull jingle. Mouth dry, Taehyung’s completely entranced by the narrow line of his waist once more, but then, almost as a wake-up call, Jeongguk’s t-shirt begins unsticking from his skin, the baggy fit billowing around him.

Taehyung blinks a couple times, fast. And apparently, that’s enough for him to miss Jeongguk beginning to move toward him.

They never stood very far apart, so Jeongguk’s in front of him in a matter of seconds. His feet bounce slightly on the rubber mat. With his head still leaned back against the mirror behind him, Taehyung looks at him down the bridge of his nose, heart thumping nervously in his chest.

Before he gets an opportunity to question Jeongguk’s abrupt desire to be close, Jeongguk’s leaning in even nearer, and then there’s pressure around the small of Taehyung’s back, a thick, warm band wrapping snugly around it, and then he’s tugged forward.

A yelp is punched out of his mouth as he stumbles right into Jeongguk’s chest. He tries to brace a hand against his shoulder to get a respectable distance between them, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him. He’s got both ends of the belt in a firm hold, the length of it digging into Taehyung’s waist and restraining him from inching away.

“Hey, wha—”

A smacking kiss is placed on his cheek right in front of his ear.

Squirming, Taehyung tries to turn his head, but Jeongguk follows him. He’s mapping out a trail of gradually softening pecks over the side of Taehyung’s face all the way to the centre, briefly pressing his lips to Taehyung’s nose.

The hold the belt has around Taehyung’s waist is loosening, but Taehyung’s no longer twitching to get away. The sweet, heady scent of honeysuckle is all around him with Jeongguk so goddamn close, and he can’t think.

“Why did you ask about her when it’s not actually something you want to talk about?” Jeongguk asks, his tone soft and careful. He brushes their noses together before placing another kiss on the corner of Taehyung’s mouth.

“Because,” Taehyung says, “it’s important to you. And I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me something just because I… I…” Just because the acidic jealousy in him feels like it’s burning a hole through his skin from the inside out.

“I’m not getting back together with her,” Jeongguk repeats his words from earlier, even more strength and certainty behind them now. It does nothing to reassure Taehyung, this time, only makes him feel like a frustrated toddler throwing his second tantrum of the night. It’s so fucking ugly, this feeling inside of him, and he can’t seem to do anything to make it disappear.

“But doesn’t this change everything?” He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Like, talking will probably get you closure on some things, right? And then maybe you guys can resolve—”

Jeongguk frowns so hard it makes Taehyung shut right up. Clasping his mouth closed, he feels himself shrink in the gentle hold Jeongguk still has on him. He averts his gaze, unable to watch Jeongguk’s narrowed eyes dart all over his face. He must see it, all this insecurity stripping away the armour of false confidence. And he must know, too, that a casual fling has no right acting this anxious and insecure in the face of a previous relationship.

The pressure of the belt against the small of Taehyung’s back disappears. It clatters to the floor, the buckle hitting the rubber mat close to Taehyung’s left pinky toe. Before he can stumble backwards, Jeongguk’s left hand wraps firmly around his middle, holding him close.

“Aerin and I could resolve every single problem we’ve ever had in our relationship and I still wouldn’t want to get back together with her.”

Eyes jumping up, Taehyung finds his gaze. There’s a sharp tingle in the middle of his chest, a hint of sour satisfaction that leaves him feeling just as awful as the jealousy has. Jeongguk shouldn’t have to explain himself to him. He shouldn’t have. It’s unfair, it’s immature, and it borders toxicity.

Taehyung knows all that. Still, he can’t stop himself from digging. “Why not?”

There’s a deep wrinkle forming in the middle of Jeongguk’s forehead, and Taehyung wonders if he’s finally done it, if he’s pushed too far and crossed a line and now Jeongguk’s all angry and irritated. But his voice — his voice is all calm when he speaks. “Because I don’t love her anymore. I told you.”

He did, Taehyung remembers. Thinking back to their first actual conversation back in the woods makes his heart flutter in his chest. It’s only been a couple months since then, but if Taehyung’s learned one thing, it’s that it takes no time at all to fall for someone as easy to love as Jeongguk.

Bringing his hands up between them, Taehyung traces the sweaty neckline of Jeongguk’s shirt with his index finger. He can’t quite shake the sore ache inside of him, this strong need to glower at anyone as much as looking Jeongguk’s way, but Jeongguk’s not telling him off for it. He’s not putting down a boundary, although it would probably be appropriate to do just that. He’s indulging him, and he’s reassuring him.

At once, the butterflies in Taehyung’s belly are alive and thriving. Either he’s tripping, or he’s getting the definite opposite of a no-strings-attached vibe from Jeongguk right now.

“Even if I did…” Jeongguk’s voice is barely above a whisper now, its tone contemplative and a little hesitant. He’s staring down at the spot just below Taehyung’s waist where his thumb has started drawing tiny circles.

The words hang in the air for a while — so long, they almost get washed away by the poppy sound of the new single of some hotshot girl group booming through the speakers. There’s a tick in Jeongguk’s jaw, like he’s trying to say something but doesn’t quite know where to start.

Cautiously, Taehyung lets his fingers wander up the side of his neck. He slides them along the line of his jaw until he reaches his chin. Applies the smallest amount of strength to tip his head up just a bit.

And then he kisses him. Softly. Barely any pressure. Jeongguk allows it to happen, lips parting obediently at the first touch of Taehyung’s, and Taehyung is so, so in love with him.

When he leans back, Jeongguk blinks his eyes open, pupils unfocused as if he’s just coming out of a daze. His gaze rakes up and down Taehyung’s face, and there’s so much longing in that look, it almost draws Taehyung right back in.

But Jeongguk lets go of his waist, then, all of a sudden. He takes a step around him, turning on the spot until he can lean his shoulders against the mirrored wall. “Even if I did,” he says again, legs bending at the knees as he slowly lowers himself to the ground. “Still love her, I mean. Which I don’t. But if I did… I still couldn’t—” With a sigh, he props his elbows up against his knees and presses the balls of his hands into the sockets of his eyes for a moment.

Seeing him like this, all vulnerable, Taehyung feels his heart drop all the way into the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, he feels even worse for behaving the way he did, allowing stupid, unreasonable jealousy to get the best of him. It must’ve been a difficult evening for Jeongguk, and he’s clearly been looking for some kind of comfort from him, yet here he is, throwing a fit because he can’t quite fathom anyone ever wanting him for something other than his body. For something more.

He plops down to the floor just as Jeongguk stops rubbing his eyes. He’s looking straight ahead, but Taehyung doesn’t miss the slight exhale of relief when he reaches over and threads their hands together.

“That break-up really did a number on me.” Jeongguk chuckles a bitter, wet laugh and ducks his head awkwardly. For a little while, he remains quiet, and Taehyung can see it in the wrinkles on his forehead, how hard he’s mulling over his next words. “It got so messy and ugly towards the end, all that fighting. We both said things that hurt the other person, and it just… it felt really good to apologise for that now.”

Involuntarily, Taehyung feels his guard rise up again. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, this sense of protection. He, for one, sure is hoping Jeongguk not only got to say sorry, but hear it, too.

“But still,” he says. “The arguments we had back then really messed me up.”

This, Taehyung knows by now. Over the past months, he’s collected small puzzle pieces from various sources, inadvertently constructing the framework of the narrative about the year Jeongguk spent MIA.

I don’t need to tell you how hard the past year’s been on him.

That whole thing really messed him up for a while.

But it’s never come directly from Jeongguk. Every time he’s talked about his relationship with Aerin to Taehyung and what he went through after, he sounded far removed from it, like it’s fully and truly a thing of the past. Now that they’re talking, Taehyung’s not so sure it is. If it will ever be.

“And just…” Leaning his head back against the mirror, Jeongguk brushes his thumb over Taehyung’s knuckles. “The way it ended. It didn’t come out of nowhere, like, I saw it coming, but I… I’m not good at ending things. I give out second, third, fourth chances to the people I love. I do it all the time. And she… When she just cut us off like that,” he shrugs, “even though I know it was the right thing to do — at least I think I knew… anyway, I know now that it was — it still really fucking hurt.”

The green-eyed monster inside of Taehyung has shrivelled up to about a tenth of its original size and is now sitting dumbly and heavily in the lower part of his belly. He swallows. Moves his left foot until his sneaker is perfectly aligned with Jeongguk’s.

“So even if we forgave each other for everything and I still loved her,” Jeongguk says, curling his fingers firmer around Taehyung’s. “I couldn’t be with her again. I wouldn’t want to. I give everything to the people I love… until they break my heart.”

Not really knowing what to say, Taehyung pulls on their joint hands. Finally turning his head, Jeongguk follows the movement with his gaze, and there’s the softest twitch of his mouth when Taehyung breathes a kiss onto his tattooed knuckles.

“And also” The sudden change in Jeongguk’s voice to a much more lighthearted tone is a little startling. “She’s got a boyfriend. So,” Jeongguk’s teeth pop into view as he starts grinning, “you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, Taehyung does nothing but stare at him. Then, he groans. His hand slips out of Jeongguk’s grip and he reaches over, flicking his chin before he gets a chance to protect himself. “So nice of you to tell me this after I got all possessive over you.”

Jeongguk laughs in the way Taehyung loves most, with his eyes first and his whole body after. His propped-up legs give, stretching out in front of him. “In my defence,” he brings both his hands up next to his head, palms facing forward, “you look really cute when you’re pouting.”

Despite the fuzzy feeling in his stomach, Taehyung bites the lines of his teeth together, hard, and cuts him his best scowl.

There’s a playful glint in Jeongguk’s eye. His laugh morphs into a grin that scrunches up his nose, and the sight of it is almost enough to distract Taehyung from the way he’s starting to slide his back sideways along the mirror until he’s just out of reach. Stretching out his arm, Jeongguk snaps his fingers and points them squarely at the frown pulling down the corners of Taehyung’s mouth. “Exactly like that.”

Their eyes meet. Jeongguk’s looking back at him starry-eyed and challenging and giddy, and Taehyung is yet again overrun and slapped in the face and paralysed by the intense feeling of affection and fondness spreading through him. His whole chest aches with it, and for a second, he can’t believe he actually gets to have this. Whatever category their relationship falls into now, it doesn’t matter, not really, not when he gets to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s bursts of happiness.

Which isn’t to say Taehyung’s just gonna let this slide.

At once, he snaps his hand up, palm wrapping tightly around Jeongguk’s wrist. His forearm is strong, unyielding in the air even as Taehyung's grip grows stronger. Using his hold to gain momentum, he hauls himself up onto his knees and throws one leg over Jeongguk’s thighs until he’s straddling him.

There’s a telltale hitch in Jeongguk’s next exhale as he pushes his upper body back into an upright position. With his shoulders and the back of his head lolled back against the mirror and his hips a little further out, he’s ever so slightly slouching. Taehyung — a little too comfortable with his ass planted firmly just above Jeongguk’s knees — towers over him.

Jeongguk angles his head back lazily, jutting his chin up. His eyes droop into a disarming bedroom stare that has absolutely no such effect on Taehyung, nu-uh, no sir. Flexing the fingers of his right hand around Jeongguk’s wrist, he brings the other up and aims it at a spot near Jeongguk’s left armpit.

To his great disappointment, Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. His eyebrows jump up in pure, infuriating amusement, and the next thing Taehyung knows his offending hand is trapped in Jeongguk’s.

For a moment, all he can do is stare, dumbfounded and completely oblivious to the fact that he could, technically, let go of Jeongguk’s wrist to continue the attack.

Jeongguk uses this brief standstill to his advantage. He straightens up, face coming in dangerous proximity to Taehyung’s for a moment, and then he’s moving his legs, jostling him.

Yelping, Taehyung tries to steady himself, but there’s no use. Jeongguk has him flat on his back on the rubber mat in a matter of seconds, both his hands pinned to the ground next to his head. His mouth twitches traitorously before it pulls into that crooked smirk that sets Taehyung’s heart off pounding in his chest.

“Gotcha.” He’s hovering over Taehyung, most of his weight supported on one of his legs, but still putting a good portion of pressure on the grip around Taehyung’s wrists, and his face is impossibly close.

Squirming on the spot, Taehyung squints his eyes and purses his lips into another pout, glaring up at him.

Jeongguk laughs, and it sounds a little breathless. He ducks his head further down, and Taehyung gets absolutely no warning before his teeth skirt along his pushed-out bottom lip. “Cute,” Jeongguk murmurs, low and teasing, before kissing him.

The feeling goes to his head immediately. Not two seconds into the kiss, his brain is all slow and sluggish, and he’s a little dizzy just from the restraint Jeongguk’s putting on his hands. Greedy, he opens his mouth wider, sighing through his nose when he feels the pad of Jeongguk’s thumb dig into the spot near his wrist where his pulse is thumping wildly.

It’s mind-numbingly good, making out with Jeongguk. They're fucking made for each other, that's what it feels like. The insistent push and pull of Jeongguk's lips, so intense it makes Taehyung's head all woozy, yet still so calm and calculated, never quite enough, always keeping him teetering the very edge of a cataclysmic fall.

It's exactly what Taehyung likes, but more so, it's exactly what he needs. Often, Jeongguk's unpredictable in the best way, and not for the first time, Taehyung feels himself getting addicted to the thrill of being putty in his hands in a matter of minutes. He’s a game, and Jeongguk’s figured out exactly which buttons to press in order to win.

Somehow, if it’s like this, Taehyung doesn’t mind losing very much.

Legs spreading a little more, his hips jerk up on their own accord. Jeongguk doesn’t stop kissing him, but one of his hands slides from Taehyung’s wrist all the way down his body until he can clasp it over his hip bone, making sure Taehyung’s ass stays firmly planted on the ground.

“Behave,” he murmurs, giving Taehyung’s bottom lip a bite that’s just strong enough to jolt him back to reality.

A pleasant heaviness clings to Taehyung’s eyelids as he blinks them open slowly. He finds Jeongguk already peering down at him, the look on his face just as frazzled as Taehyung feels. Licking his lips, he angles his chin up just a bit, holding Jeongguk’s stare in challenge. “Stop kissing me like you wanna fuck me on the floor of the weights section of your gym, then.”

Jeongguk hums, tilting his head as if he’s seriously considering the possibility. “It sounds so tempting, though.” He says it with a deep, wistful sigh. Taehyung feels his hand slowly starting to creep under the fabric of his t-shirt. “Think about it.” Jeongguk moves his head a little to the right, his lips grazing along Taehyung’s jaw. A sharp tingle dances down Taehyung’s spine and he barely keeps a low gasp inside. “I could get you up against that mirror. Make you look at yourself until the glass fogs up.”

Lifting his free hand, Taehyung tangles his fingers in the damp hair at the back of Jeongguk’s head and pulls until they’re face to face again. For a moment, he revels in just getting to look at him this close. It’s just unfair, that Jeongguk has a face like that, with round, sparkling eyes and the most perfect nose and lips and cheeks, and Taehyung’s expected to just act normal.

“Hm. Nah,” he says once he’s found his voice again. He’s trying his best to sound casual, and judging by the quirk of Jeongguk’s brows, he seems to be somewhat succeeding. “I’m more into the whole picking up thing, if you remember.”

Jeongguk’s lips part the tiniest bit around a barely audible exhale and that’s enough confirmation for Taehyung. His chest swells; Jeongguk must be constantly replaying every detail of their first hook-up in his head too.

“You could do that, right?” Taehyung makes it sound innocent, the question. Emphasises it with an unassuming flutter of his eyelashes. And then he goes in for the kill. “Get me naked, let me wrap my legs around you, and fuck me up against the wall.”

It’s thrilling, hearing the tremble in Jeongguk’s breathing. His gaze is flitting all over Taehyung’s face, and his mouth is twitching as if he wants to say something but can’t quite find the right words.

“D’you want me to say please?” Taehyung tucks his chin in a bit, peering up at him out of big eyes. Maybe he’s going a little overboard with this, but it’s just so fun to fluster Jeongguk, he can’t help it. “Come on, baby, please give me your c—”

Eyes widening in alarm, Jeongguk snaps the hand that’s been shamelessly groping at Taehyung’s left side back up and clasps it over his mouth. Taehyung feels his cheeks bunch up around his grin, his teeth pressing into Jeongguk’s palm.

Keeping his hand firmly in place, Jeongguk leans in until his mouth is right next to Taehyung’s ear. “I could do that and I will. But not now and not here, because neither of us needs another scandal right now.”

With a quiet noise of protest, Taehyung tries to wind his face out of his hold. To his surprise, Jeongguk does withdraw his hand without putting up a fight. “I disagree,” Taehyung says, even though he’s pretty sure another sexcapade is gonna cost him his career for good. “I think it would be giving the people what they want.”

“The people or you?”

“Two birds, one stone.”

A low chuckle sounds from Jeongguk, and then there’s a series of kisses placed along Taehyung’s cheek. “You’re unbelievable,” Jeongguk tells him, using the slight, disbelieving shake of his head to brush their noses together. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

On their way to the changing rooms, they run into that drama lead Taehyung’s spotted earlier, and he and Jeongguk exchange friendly greetings like they’ve known each other for years, and all Taehyung can do is mutely stand witness. If it means randomly running into celebrities, he might just have to consider joining Jeongguk’s workout schedule more often.

The changing room is empty when they enter. The music trickling from the speakers along the ceiling has muted down to some slow RnB track, fitting the low lighting and dark accents of the room. As soon as Jeongguk’s made it to his locker, he drops his belt and water bottle on a nearby bench and — without any warning whatsoever — starts stripping his shirt over his head.

Mouth dry, Taehyung’s eyes latch on to the muscles shifting in Jeongguk’s abdomen. They tense and release with his movements, and Taehyung feels his fingertips tickle with the burning desire to touch. But he’s got himself under control, so he keeps his hands to himself and sinks down to sit on the bench like the good boy he is.

Jeongguk ducks into his locker and pulls free a clean, neatly folded white tank top. He shakes it out and grabs the hem of it, clearly intent on putting it on, and while Taehyung is a big fan of the thought of Jeongguk wearing a muscle shirt, he still can’t keep himself from saying, “No shower?”

Shirt cradled to his middle, Jeongguk stops. His gaze finds Taehyung, and Taehyung catches the way it lingers on his mouth just a tad too long. “They’re closing in like twenty minutes, I’ll just do that at home.”

Holding eye contact, Taehyung wrinkles his nose. “Stinky.”

He’s joking, teasing, obviously, although he imagines by the time Jeongguk eventually gets around to his shower, the dried sweat will have developed a smell. Jeongguk seems to pick up on the amused undertone in his voice, because all he does is direct a dramatic eye roll at Taehyung.

“You do that so much, your eyes are gonna get stuck like that.”

“That’ll be your fault, then.” Jeongguk slides his left arm through the hole in the tank top. The lower part of his abs flexes in a truly unnecessary way, and Taehyung just has to do something about this.

“Twenty minutes’s enough to suck your dick.”

To Jeongguk’s credit, he doesn’t sputter. It almost seems as if he expected Taehyung to segway back to the topic. If it didn’t make the bottom of Taehyung’s stomach drop in equal parts excitement and terror at the prospect of being so known by someone he becomes predictable, he’d blush.

“You really want that so bad, don’t you.” The tone of his voice is verging on pity.

It makes Taehyung feel ecstatic.

Spreading his legs wider, he props his hands between his thighs on the bench, shifting his weight as he leans slightly forward, blinking up at Jeongguk. His poker face isn’t what it once used to be, Taehyung can easily spot clear interest in the matter shining through the mask of condescension.

He’s got him, he knows that. But it would be boring if he quit playing the game now.

“Mhm,” he hums, tilting his head to the side. “And you’re totally unaffected by the thought of me getting on my knees for you. That’s why you keep mentioning it any chance you get. Just admit you’re all talk.”

Jeongguk’s eyes narrow the tiniest bit. It’s almost as if Taehyung can feel him trying to discern his motive and guess his next move. He can’t, he won’t be able to, Taehyung’s not letting him. He’s got the ball, and he’s miles ahead, outrunning him in the race towards the goal.

The expression spreading on Jeongguk’s face as he realises Taehyung’s essentially played him in the outs by leaving him between a rock and a hard place, either having to argue that he’s in fact not all hat and no cattle and giving Taehyung exactly what he wants or admitting defeat is delicious.

Lucky for him, Taehyung is very nice when he’s horny.

“How about this,” he says, scooting his hips forward on the bench and leaning back, hands slack against his inner thighs where his shorts are riding up. Jeongguk’s gaze drops immediately, following the movement, and then it races up every exposed inch of Taehyung’s body until he reaches his face, his eyes. It’s thrilling, to have him like this, and Taehyung can barely keep from smiling with his next words, “I get you hard, you let me suck you off. Right here, right now.”

Jeongguk’s staring at him so unabashedly, it makes him feel a little naked. He’s completely motionless for a couple seconds, then he pulls his arm out of his tank top and lets it fall onto the belt next to Taehyung’s right thigh. Crossing his arms in front of his bare chest, he slants back against the wall of closed lockers. Apart from the tick in his jaw, the look on his face remains pointedly unimpressed. “Fine.”

A devilish grin spreads out on Taehyung’s face. God, he loves a challenge.

“You get one try.”

Taehyung scoffs as he pushes to his feet. He feels a little lighter than usual, so enamoured with Jeongguk he might just float away. “As if I need more.”

“Cocky.”

Taking a step closer so the tips of his sneakers are bumping against Jeongguk’s, Taehyung quirks an eyebrow. “S’doing it for you, isn’t it.”

“Is this your move?” The back of Jeongguk’s head hits the wood of the locker behind him, the expression on his face one close to boredom. “Because if it is then you’ve lost.”

“Oh baby,” Taehyung shakes his head in small, slow jerks. Moving one of his feet, he wedges it between Jeongguk’s, kicking them apart far enough so he can stand between them. “I don’t lose.”

Jeongguk unfolds his arms and lets them loosely dangle by his sides. “Go on, then.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches out and places his right hand right in the curve of Jeongguk’s waist, fingers digging into the skin a little bit. Eyes trained on Jeongguk’s face, he leans in until he’s too close, letting his lids flutter shut as he brushes his lips over Jeongguk’s mouth. Jeongguk reacts immediately, head angling forward to breach the last millimetre of distance, but Taehyung’s got other, better plans.

He dodges and instead skirts his lips along the line of Jeongguk’s jaw until he reaches that little hollow spot below his ear. Down from there to the place at the side of his neck already adorned with a pink hickey, the sweet spot Taehyung knows without a doubt will make him melt.

The response is instant. Taehyung presses his lips against the skin, gently teases it with the tiniest bit of tongue and teeth, and Jeongguk is completely lax in his hold. Like, immediately. If knowing he’s got this effect on Jeongguk didn’t turn him on so much, Taehyung would find it a little bit funny. But like this, he has to pay attention to keeping himself in check so he doesn’t get too carried away.

Jeongguk’s breath hitches before stumbling out of him in a low, uncontrolled moan.

Okay, maybe he’s not exactly good at the whole keeping himself in check thing.

Humming, Taehyung lets his mouth wander down to Jeongguk’s collarbone, slow, so slow, and then all the way back up, kissing the hinge of Jeongguk’s jaw before moving his lips to his ear. Pulling the lobe between his teeth punches another sound out of Jeongguk, and this time, his hips helplessly kick forward too.

Taehyung stops biting and instead nuzzles his nose into the hair behind Jeongguk’s ear. It’s slightly damp, but it still smells clean and a little flowery. His hand leaves its place around Jeongguk’s waist and instead slides down, fingers tracing the line of his hip, the ridges of the hem of the basketball shorts he’s wearing, before finally cupping the bulge between his legs.

“Oh, there you are,” he murmurs, only letting a little bit of smugness filter into his voice. “That was easy.”

Jeongguk groans, but Taehyung feels the vibration more than he hears the sound of it. He flexes his palm over Jeongguk’s cock, chest swelling with pride when he feels him grinding against it. And then there are fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his head, and the next thing he knows, Jeongguk’s pulling him back by the strands to line up their faces and kiss him hungrily.

All the control Taehyung had gathered for himself slips right out of his grasp. It’s gone so quickly; he’s a pliant, docile, gasping mess in Jeongguk’s hold in a matter of heartbeats.

“You’ve got ten minutes to take care of this.” The hand buried in Taehyung’s hair curls in on itself, yanking his head back so Jeongguk can look him directly in the eyes. “And you better do it well.”

A grin spreads out on Taehyung’s face, lazy and slow. The movement feels heavy, like a pleasant weight is pulling the muscles in his face into place. Sparking electricity is buzzing off his body in waves. The possessive part of him roars at the prospect of getting his mouth all over Jeongguk.

The rough grasp Jeongguk has on his hair loosens some, the burn across Taehyung’s scalp fading into a slight prickle. He gently pulls his hand back until the palm of it is lying flat against Taehyung’s cheek.

Nuzzling into the touch, Taehyung blinks up at him, all big, innocent peepers. “You really think there’s a possibility for me to not do a good job?”

The corners of Jeongguk’s lips pull into a crooked half-smile that is absolutely devastating to Taehyung’s heart. “Don’t know,” Jeongguk says, voice low but carrying a teasing intonation. “Maybe you’re all talk.” He stretches his thumb. Smoothes it along the swell of Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Maybe that’s all your mouth can do.” He presses inside. The pad of his finger hooks over the line of Taehyung’s teeth, wedging his jaws apart.

Spit gathers under Taehyung’s tongue. He narrows his eyes at Jeongguk, spite and intrigue fuelling the fire simmering low in his belly. Fine. He’ll show him. He’ll give Jeongguk a blowjob so fucking good the sound of his voice is the last thing that comes to mind when he looks at his mouth.

Obediently, he allows Jeongguk to press his mouth open further. Spit dribbles out, but Jeongguk's quick to collect it with his thumb, smearing it over Taehyung's lips until they're all slick and shiny. His gaze is fixed on the movement of his finger, eyes heavy and hooded but the look in them resembling something like awe, and Taehyung watches him mutter a soundless curse.

Taehyung’s still got one hand lightly cupped over Jeongguk’s shorts and he decides now is the right moment to apply some more pressure to it, dig the heel of his hand into the growing hardness, and drag it up slowly. Jeongguk’s breath fans against his face in cute little punched-out stutters. Poor guy. Doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. Taehyung wants to kiss him senseless so bad.

“Where do you want me?”

This time, there’s sound to the curse Jeongguk lets out. It’s accompanied by a low, almost desperate sort of groan. His wet thumb drops to Taehyung’s chin and his hips kick forward in search of friction. He feels big and hard pressing into the palm of Taehyung’s hand, but Taehyung resists the urge to squeeze until he’s got a proper answer.

Jeongguk’s gaze briefly jumps in the direction of the door leading to the gym. There’s still the faint clanging of metal to be heard, indicating the danger of other late-night gym-goers accidentally running in on them.

“Shower.”

The word, uttered in that breathless voice, stirs something inside Taehyung. It tickles awake the memory of the countless times his knees have hit grimy bathroom floors for boys barely nice enough to give him a slither of their attention.

He’s doing the same with Jeongguk now. A perpetual yes-sayer deathly afraid of never being good enough. Except this time he not only wants it, but he wants it bad. This time, when they eventually crash, he’ll burn, too. For now, he’s okay with that.

Jeongguk barely has time to grab his towel out of his locker before Taehyung slides his hand up higher and curls his fingers around the waistband of his shorts and underwear, yanking him forward.

They make it into the shower room in under thirty seconds. As their shoes squeak over the dark tiled floor, Taehyung has half a mind to feel bad for bringing his stained running sneakers into a clean, fancy space like this, but Jeongguk’s right behind him, following suit where Taehyung’s hauling him along by the hem of his pants, and yeah, sorry, but Taehyung’s got more important things to do than worrying about giving the gym’s cleaning personnel a bit of extra work.

Towards the entrance of the room is a counter made of dark, marbled slate holding two sinks, a wide mirror mounted to the wall above. Further in, each side of the room sports four separate shower stalls, each secluded by tiled walls and opaque doors.

This, Taehyung finds, is much more welcomed than the dingy, unkempt restrooms he’s used to having his flings in. Plus there’s no sound of running water, no rustling of clothes, no scrunching of someone rubbing in their shampoo, so it must be their lucky night.

He pulls Jeongguk into one of the stalls at the far end of the room, walking backwards, pushing the door open with his shoulder, and sneaking his hand further past the waistband of Jeongguk’s shorts. Once inside, Jeongguk drops his towel in a heap onto a wooden bench before blindly sliding the door lock into place.

For a beat, all they do is stare at each other, and Taehyung can’t help but think this giddy sort of arousal — it looks absolutely gorgeous on Jeongguk. His eyes are sparkling with it, his chest heaving and sinking in quick pants, and his hands keep twitching in Taehyung’s direction as if he wants to pull him closer but is too curious to see what’ll happen if he doesn’t.

Taehyung takes a small step forward, sliding his hand fully down the front of Jeongguk’s pants and loosely wrapping it around him. To Jeongguk's credit, his face gives nothing away, but Taehyung can feel the muscles in his stomach tighten.

Which is very extremely distracting.

Tearing his gaze away from Jeongguk’s eyes is hard, but Taehyung can’t help it. He glances down, greedily taking in the tensed muscles of Jeongguk’s abdomen, the sculpted curve of his waist, the goosebumps on his chest. All of this is Taehyung’s to kiss and lick and claim, and that’s precisely what he’s going to do.

His knees bend as he lowers himself to suck another pretty red mark to one of Jeongguk’s pecs. Immediately, Jeongguk’s arms shoot up, his hands wrapping around Taehyung’s rib cage and holding him up.

Frowning, Taehyung lifts his head.

“Want you naked, pretty boy.”

Oh, fuck. At the sound of Jeongguk’s ragged voice, Taehyung’s poor heart boosts into overdrive, thundering against the inside of his chest so hard Jeongguk must be able to feel it.

A smirk plays around Jeongguk’s mouth. His fingers curl into themselves at Taehyung’s side, bunching up his t-shirt. Reluctantly, Taehyung pulls his hand back out of Jeongguk’s shorts, allowing him to strip the item of clothing over his head. His headband comes off with it, unruly curls falling into his eyes instantly.

Jeongguk doesn’t look as he discards the t-shirt on the towel-pile on the bench, his eyes too busy raking up and down Taehyung’s body. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch, the intensity of his gaze scorching hot where it travels over Taehyung’s skin.

“Shoes.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He kicks off his trainers and then tries to take off his socks with as much grace as possible (read: he’s awkwardly hopping around on one leg for a full five seconds).

By the time he straightens up again, his face is hot and he feels a little woozy. And then his legs turn into complete, useless jelly — because Jeongguk’s still looking at him like he wants to devour him on the spot.

“Shorts.”

Taehyung’s stomach swoops. His head feels all tingly, like his brain is slowly detaching itself, offering the reins to Jeongguk. With a nervous flutter in his chest, he slips his fingers beneath the hem of his pants and pushes them down until they pool around his ankles.

He’s just as affected as Jeongguk is – hell, of course he is – but he’d been a little too preoccupied to truly notice just how needy he feels. Jeongguk’s stare on him is palpable, pinning him into place and making him squirm for more.

“You too,” he croaks, voice carrying the pout his mouth has formed. His gaze drops from Jeongguk’s face to the defined outline of his length in his shorts, impatient.

To his surprise, Jeongguk doesn’t make him wait. He toes off his shoes and socks much more elegantly than he did, and then, like the fucking asshole he is, he teases his fingers down his upper body in an excruciatingly slow motion before finally hooking them under the waistband of his Calvins and pushing them out of the way along with his basketball shorts.

And yeah, that’s it for Taehyung. He doesn’t know what kind of black magic Jeongguk’s naked body is doing to his brain, but what he can say with certainty is that it’s fucking him up good. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t actually have anything to say. His hands itch to touch, but they remain limp by his side, silently begging for Jeongguk’s permission to move.

The left corner of Jeongguk’s mouth twitches. “Seven minutes, darling.”

It’s all Taehyung needs. It feels like he might die if he doesn’t get his mouth on Jeongguk right this second. He doesn’t give a fuck that Jeongguk’s got no way of actually knowing how much time they’ve got left, he’s too focused on the sharp twinge of arousal zapping through him at the haughtiness and challenge in his voice.

“You’re not even gonna last five, baby.”

The way Jeongguk kisses him then, it’s rough; it’s rough and it’s messy and it’s blissfully, mind-numbingly good. His hands wrap around Taehyung’s waist so hard, Taehyung knows he’ll feel the ghost of their touch for days. The sweep of Jeongguk’s tongue along his bottom lip is quickly replaced by his teeth, coaxing a long, low moan out of him.

Blindly, they walk backwards further into the tube-shaped stall. Taehyung’s got his eyes closed, all his senses occupied by Jeongguk so damn close, and the sudden press of the cool wall against his back makes him flinch. He squirms, hips jerking forward, away from the cold.

Jeongguk reacts quickly, as if he’s seen it coming. One hand drops down from Taehyung’s waist to his hip, keeping him neatly pressed against the tiles. A petulant whine gets punched out of Taehyung at that. He doesn’t quite know for what reason exactly, the discomfort caused by the wall behind him or the denial of touch.

“Please, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk’s fingers are bruising around his hip bone. His other hand leaves its place on Taehyung’s middle and starts fumbling around somewhere to his left. There’s a small creaking sound, a gurgling noise, and then a spray of warm water starts raining from the shower head mounted to the wall next to them. A gust of steam wafts in Taehyung's direction, making the hairs on his arms stand up.

Jeongguk leans in close, the hand that had twisted the shower handle now propped up next to Taehyung’s head. Droplets of water are running down the tattooed length of his arm. “Want my cock so fucking bad, don’t you.”

Taehyung nods before the whole question is out. The patter of the shower is loud next to them, but it fades to a buzzing background sound in his mind. All he wants to hear, see, feel, taste is Jeongguk, everything else falls away.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and because he’s feeling a little daring, a little naughty, he pushes against Jeongguk’s grip around his hip. He needs to feel him move against him just once. When Jeongguk’s hand doesn’t give, he quickly changes gears; relaxes back, goes fully pliant. “Want it so much it makes me feel fucking crazy, Jeongguk.” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, slow, deliberate. “Wanna taste it.” Tilting his head a little to the side, he leans in until his lips are almost brushing against Jeongguk’s. “Want you to fuck my mouth.”

Jeongguk’s fingers dig even harder into his skin. Taehyung feels his groan against his face more than he hears it, and he’s more than eager to swallow it down with another kiss, but the hand Jeongguk had pressed against the wall clasps around his jaw instead, holding him back. When he speaks, his voice is low, but Taehyung can still hear it over the pounding of the water, assertiveness and control cutting right through to him. “Down on your knees for me.”

With goddamn fucking pleasure, Taehyung thinks, but he knows better than to say it. He doubts he’d be able to form coherent sentences anyway, what with the way his breath keeps catching in his throat.

He gives Jeongguk his best docile nod, cock twitching at the dull pain the movement evokes in his jaw. Fucking hell, he’s screwed.

Jeongguk loosens his fingers, slides them along his cheek and brushes a damp curl away from Taehyung's forehead. His other hand greedily slides over what he can reach of Taehyung's thigh before retreating as well. He moves backwards, naked feet stepping into the puddle of warm water. His eyebrows rise, waiting.

Holding eye-contact, Taehyung starts to lower himself down.

“Or— wait.” At once, Jeongguk’s confident demeanour crumbles, the slight condescension on his face replaced by the sweetest kind of concern. He darts out one hand, pulling Taehyung upright again by his side. “Is that okay? We can put down my towel or my shorts if it’s too uncomfortable.”

Warmth unfurls in his chest at the worried dip of Jeongguk’s mouth, the thumb drawing small circles on his side. God, Taehyung wants to suck this man’s dick so bad he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

For the moment, though, he settles on kissing Jeongguk. He pushes his hand into the hair at the back of Jeongguk’s head and connects their lips. Softer than before, less insistent. “I’m okay,” he murmurs when he gets a split second to catch his breath. It’s true, he doesn’t much mind black and blue knees, especially not for Jeongguk.

“You sure?”

Taehyung lets his mouth wander from Jeongguk’s mouth over his cheeks and slowly, very slowly down his neck. He nods, rubbing his nose against Jeongguk’s skin.

“Okay. Fuck, okay.”

“Gonna suck you off now,” Taehyung murmurs against his collarbone.

“Yeah.”

Taehyung’s relishing in his slow descent. He knows, technically, the clock is ticking, but he can’t help himself. As much as he likes it fast and dirty, he needs to take his time with this, map a path down Jeongguk’s body, taking small detours here and there, to his shoulder, his nipples, his belly button.

Jeongguk’s hand stays on him the entire time. He isn’t holding him, but he lets his fingertips graze along whatever part of his body he can reach as Taehyung sinks to his knees. When Taehyung traces the right part of the v-shaped crease near his hip with his tongue, he sighs, tangling his fingers loosely in Taehyung’s curls.

The tiled floor is hard and unyielding beneath Taehyung’s knees, but the sharp pain shooting up and down his legs every time he shifts is a good anchor to reality, a reminder not to get too lost in the way he’s marking up Jeongguk’s inner thigh with small, pink hickeys.

(Maybe, perhaps there is a small part of him that doesn’t fully trust Jeongguk not to get back together with his ex. Whatever. Cut him some slack.)

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter up. Butterflies swarm a chaotic formation around his tummy. He’s kind of forgotten how close he is to Jeongguk’s cock now. It’s right there, right in front of him, thick and red and leaking.