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The night is still young, the evening traffic starting to ease up. Taehyung is cruising down the expressway in his new Apollo Arrow, trying it out. He placed an advanced order on it when he saw it at the Geneva Motor Show last year, emptying out more than half of his bank account. It’s a beauty and Taehyung doesn’t regret it one bit.

He’s weaving through the traffic, cutting slower cars off, and this would be called reckless driving if Taehyung didn’t have so much control over the car’s movements. By his standards, this is still pretty tame. He’s breathlessly giddy, like a child on Christmas morning with a new shiny toy. His fingers can’t stop running over the steering wheel, marveling at how smooth its movements are. He drinks in the rev of the engine, the new leather smell.

Taehyung almost misses the gorgeous matte black SSC Ultimate Aero he passes by, most likely driven by some old fart with too much money to spend and not enough respect for cars. It’s a pity, Taehyung thinks, that it will never realize it’s full potential. That no one like Taehyung will ever drive it.

Taehyung can’t imagine driving a car with an engine capable of reaching 320 km/h, but only going at the city’s speed limit. It’s an absolute waste. Taehyung can feel the raw power under his fingertips and he knows he really shouldn’t be driving on a civilian expressway right now. He should have waited until Hoseok’s race next weekend because Taehyung is a firm believer of utilizing everything to its full potential. He promises himself to get off when he reaches the exit closest to his house.

Several miles later, Taehyung notices the Aero right behind him. That strikes him as strange because Taehyung had been going way above the speed limit and weaving around so much that a professional tail would have a hard time keeping up.

A spike of adrenaline hitches his breath. The old man knows what he’s doing.

Taehyung steps up his game, hesitantly at first, to see if the Aero holds up. To his surprise and pleasure, the old man keeps up with ease. After a particularly sharp lane change, he gets a loud honk from the car he cuts off. The old man is not following him anymore, but drives ahead.

The game of “follow me if you can” turns into a race, and the two of them are bordering 160 km/h and leaving pissed off drivers in their wake. Taehyung’s fingers are twitching on the steering wheel and he hasn’t had this much fun in ages.

They enter a tunnel and everything is instantly dark with neon reflecting on every slick surface. Everything except Old Man’s Aero, who is like some smooth ghost, flowing through traffic like water or sand, without a hitch. The windows are tinted so dark Taehyung can’t even see an outline of the person inside.

This is the first time Taehyung feels anything close to falling in love.

They exit the tunnel into the fast-coming night, engines roaring. Taehyung feels a laugh bubbling up in his chest that gets quickly cut off when he hears sirens in the distance.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, glancing in the rear-view mirror. That swarm of highway patrol is definitely coming for him and Old Fart.

Taehyung looks around and suddenly can’t find the Aero anywhere. Sneaky bastard. So he revs up the engine and cuts across to the rightmost lane. An exit is coming up and Taehyung takes it, flying past a puttering Toyota. He drifts through a left turn onto the street.

“Fucking old fart,” he mutters under his breath as he races past red lights, closely avoiding a few collisions. He’s closely familiar with this part of Gangnam and for the first time he’s thankful for his forgetfulness. His new licence plates are still lying around in the garage somewhere. But it isn't much help at all when he’s driving around a bright neon orange Arrow and there are only so many of those in Seoul. He’s most likely the only one.

He’s going through residential neighborhoods, slowing down even though he can still hear the police sirens in the distance. He's almost lost them now, only three streets away from the garage. His hands fumble with the remote control hanging off the keys, and he presses a few wrong buttons before he gets to the gate lifting one.

The Arrow smoothly slides into the open gate of the garage. Taehyung turns off the headlights and presses the close garage door button. He sits in the car and just breathes for a few minutes. The police sirens pass by, not slowing down.

Taehyung has always been careful with his driving, at least when he’s out in public. He makes sure to never catch the attention of the police, to keep his driving record pristine. Not even a single parking ticket in his name. But this time he got a little carried away and it's all that old fart’s fault. He considers calling in a favor, but decides against it, at least until he knows for sure he’s been caught. He doesn’t want to owe those fuckers, even for a small thing like this.

With a laugh, he gets out of the car and walks into the house, turning on the lights. That SSC really got him. Taehyung is a walking disaster and the only time he has full control is when he’s behind the wheel of a car. But racing down the expressway, chasing down some old fart in a fancy car almost made him lose all sense of self-control. That spark of excitement is still stuck in his veins as he reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water. His fingers thrum against the marble counter as he gulps it down.

Taehyung gets out of his more modest (if you can ever call a magenta Porsche Carrera 4S modest) car and is about to walk into the grocery store, when he stops dead in his tracks. A few parking spaces down stands a black matte SSC Ultimate Aero. The same exact one from last week, the old fart that fucked Taehyung up. He ended up having to call in that favor after all. Rage and curiosity mixed, leaving him to wait for the car owner to come out. He can replenish his cereal cupboard with Lucky Charms some other time.

Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung stares in wonder as a guy with fluffy silver hair (and the palest skin made more prominent by his all-black get up) unlocks the Aero, arms occupied with a gallon of milk, a carton of eggs and a pack of cigarettes. The asshole doesn’t even have a bag (but Taehyung is not quite sure why that makes him an asshole, per se).

“Hey, hold up,” Taehyung calls out, running up to him, and the guy turns to his voice. He looks to be around the same age, and not an old rich man as Taehyung had dubbed him. “You’re the-- how could you just leave me to the cops?”

The guy’s eyebrows go up into his hair, dim recognition flicking into his eyes. “You’re the obnoxious fucker in the Arrow?“ There is a lilt to his voice. It’s barely there but Taehyung hears it loud and clear, the sound of home. “Who even drives that outside of drag races or car shows?”

Taehyung huffs. “I was just taking her out for a trial spin. And it’s not like this,” he gestures to the Aero, “is all that inconspicuous, either.”

The stranger chuckles, a low gravel-like sound. Taehyung is inexplicably attracted to it. “I make it work.”

“Yeah, you sure do.” Taehyung is donning a smirk now. “Ditching me to deal with the cops alone. Thanks for that, really.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He actually looks on the verge of apologetic and it’s cute and suddenly Taehyung wants.

“You can make it up to me?” He nods to the groceries in the guy’s arms. “And make me breakfast?”

This is a bold move, even by Taehyung’s standards. This guy is a complete stranger, but Taehyung has never been anything less than reckless.

The guy doesn’t even blink, just stares Taehyung down with a challenge in his eyes. He tips his head to the side. “If you can follow me.”

A feral grin spreads across Taehyung’s lips and he backs away to his Porsche. “Bring it on.”

He tailgates the Aero through Seoul’s morning traffic, across the Mapo bridge and right into the messy streets of Hongdae. It’s not easy, with all the last minute lane switches and sporadic speed changes, but Taehyung is nothing if not persistent.

The Aero rolls into a garage and Taehyung parks his Porsche on the curb. It’s a quaint little building with a coffee shop on the first floor and two more stories on top. Why the fuck did the guy go shopping for breakfast ingredients all the way to Gangnam if he lives here?

Taehyung walks into the open garage, hearing the lock on his car beep twice. The Aero owner gets out of his own car, arms full with his groceries, keys in his teeth, and shuts the door with his foot.

He looks to Taehyung, and jerks his head to follow him. Taehyung pries the gallon of milk out of his hands, laughing when they guy’s grip doesn’t budge.

“I can at least help you carry something. After barging in like this and all.”

The guy lets go of the milk carton with a roll of his eyes and takes the ring of keys out of his mouth. Taehyung only just now notices how much shorter this guy is. “You actually kept up, I’m proud of you.”

They walk up the stairs to the second floor. “Who do you take me for? I drive even better than I walk.”

His feet choose this exact moment to trip over a stair and he almost drops the milk.

The guy snorts. “I can see that.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, choosing to ignore the unflattering incident. “I can’t keep referring to you as ‘the guy’ in my head constantly.”

“Why not?” the guy asks, flashing him a gummy grin and Taehyung files it away into his rapidly growing mental folder of all things related to Aero guy. “‘The guy’ is pretty accurate.”

Taehyung pouts as the guy turns the key into the door’s lock. “We’re about to have breakfast together in your house, it’s weird to not have a name. Unless you lured me out here to like murder me or something.”

The door opens and they walk inside. It’s a pretty big place, all brick walls and open space. It looks like it takes up the whole two floors, with stairs up to the open second floor where Taehyung assumes the bedroom space is. The couches in the living room space are all black with random papers strewn over them. Taehyung looks around with unhidden curiosity.

“I didn’t lure you anywhere,” the guy says, leaving the eggs on the black marble counter. “You invited yourself.” He comes up to take the milk out of Taehyung’s hands. “So maybe you’re the murderer.”

“In that case.” Taehyung holds on to the milk. “It’s still your fault because you let me inside your house.”

The guy shrugs and pulls on the carton with a surprising amount of force. “I guess it’s more fun to go out with a bang. It wouldn’t be interesting to die of old age, would it?”

“No, I guess not.” Taehyung catches sight of a pile of mail on the kitchen island as he follows the guy into the kitchen space. “But the only thing I’ve killed, repeatedly, is my phone battery, so I’m sorry to disappoint you--” he leans to the side to read the mailing address, “--Min Yoongi-ssi.”

Said Min Yoongi-ssi turns around just in time to catch Taehyung leaning away from his mail. “How very clever of you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I try.” Taehyung winks cheekily. “But I usually go by Kim Taehyung.”

Yoongi takes out a frying pan from one of the glass cupboards and hums. “Nice to meet you, Kim Taehyung. I hope you like scrambled eggs because I have nothing else to give you.”

Taehyung makes himself at home on one of the barstools around the kitchen island. “You don’t have cereal?” he asks, swinging his legs.

“I’m not eight anymore so no,” he looks back at Taehyung again. “I don’t have cereal.”

“What a shame,” Taehyung says, shooting him a heartbroken look. “But I gotta say, though, I didn’t expect you to actually take me up on the breakfast offer.”

“Do you always offer things you don’t think people will accept?” Yoongi asks, turning back to the stove and cracking a few eggs in quick succession. “Doesn’t sound like a very fun hobby.”

“No, I guess I just didn’t think you’d be making me actual breakfast ,” he says, watching Yoongi’s back. “I mean, I invited myself over to your place .”

“Kim Taehyung, are you trying to flirt with me?” he asks, turning to glance at Taehyung with eyes narrowed in suspicion. There’s a barely-there smirk playing at his lips.

Taehyung squawks a laugh in disbelief and proceeds to answer in a deadpan. “I have been since the moment I met you. Thanks for noticing.”

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to laugh. “That was sarcasm. You couldn’t have been more obvious if you had a neon sign on your forehead that blinked ‘I’m trying to pick you up.’”

Taehyung leans onto the table, aiming his words at Yoongi’s back. “Is it working?”

“Well you’re in my house and I’m making you breakfast,” Yoongi says as he adds black pepper into the frying pan. “So it must be working on some level.”

Before Taehyung can reply, the sound of the doorbell resonates throughout the house once. And then another ten times without a sign of stopping. Yoongi turns off the stove and heaves a sigh as the annoying doorbell sound continues without a break. He goes over to the intercom around the kitchen island and presses a button. “Shut the fuck up before I throw you out the goddamn window.” The shrill sound stops and he presses another button. Taehyung watches him disappear behind the wall that divides into the lobby. He can hear the door opening and someone’s chattering voice.

The voice is vaguely familiar and Taehyung cranes his neck to try and see the newcomer. He gets out of his chair when he finally recognizes it. “Hoseok hyung?”

Sure enough, Hoseok’s head peeks over the corner, staring at Taehyung with wide eyes. “Tae! Wait, what are you doing here? You know Yoongi hyung?”

Yoongi pads back to the kitchen unperturbed as Hoseok follows him, taking a seat next to Taehyung at the kitchen island.

You know Yoongi hyung?” Taehyung asks uselessly because of course Hoseok knows Min Yoongi. Hoseok knows everyone with a car worth mentioning. And Yoongi’s Ultimate Aero is definitely a car worth of Hoseok’s mentioning.

“The fucking idiot tried to race me on the expressway during traffic last week,” Yoongi explains to Hoseok, opening a cupboard to reach for plates. “Earned himself a whole army of cops on his ass.”

Hoseok laughs. “Of course he did. So, I’m guessing you’ll be at the race tomorrow?”


Taehyung stares at the road stretching ahead, adrenaline thrumming through his veins. The dying rays of the sunset reflect through the side mirrors, blinding. He looks over to his right, eyes locking with Yoongi through their rolled down windows. His foot slams the accelerator to the floor, engine roaring in his ears.

They still keep eye contact, going the same speed just for a few seconds, as if connected by some invisible electric thread. Yoongi turns away first with a smirk, and suddenly he’s gone, ahead, and Taehyung scrambles to catch up.

They go down the whole marked stretch of the race road almost at the same exact speed, with Yoongi just a hair ahead. It’s just smooth acceleration, shifting gears with the rise of the speedometer. If Taehyung cared enough to look into his mirrors, he would see that they’re first as they cross the finish line. They don’t stop, picking up more speed as they push on down the road. Taehyung’s eyes flick between the road and Yoongi’s Aero on his right, heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t want to stop this strange tension between them, this game of chicken or whatever it is.

The road is gently sloping down the mountain and the whine of the engine filters through his ears and settles in his bones. He doesn’t know for how long they drive side by side like this until Yoongi turns into another stretch of empty street. Taehyung follows him and it’s no longer about who’s faster or who can keep up.

They end up at a stretch of empty parking next to the Han river, away from the city. Taehyung can still see the numerous lights on his far left, but here everything is quiet and darker, the inky water glittering with gold at intervals. He lifts up the gullwing door, blood still rushing in his ears.

Yoongi gets out of his own car, cutting off the engine and slamming the butterfly door. He marches over to Taehyung, who just steps out as well. Their eyes lock, a rush of energy rushing through Taehyung’s whole body as Yoongi wraps his fingers around his wrist. There is something dark and almost predatory in his gaze, the lust so strong Taehyung’s breath stutters. Yoongi’s other hand reaches behind to fold the front seat and they end up sprawled in the cramped backseat, Taehyung landing on Yoongi’s lap.

The door doesn’t even close all the way behind them, and Yoongi’s mouth is on his with such intensity that Taehyung would be surprised if it didn’t bruise. He kisses back, mouth falling open and sucking in Yoongi’s tongue. He’s been waiting for this.

He’s not sure who lets out the moan, but he doesn’t particularly care either, not when Yoongi’s cold fingers burn through the skin under his shirt. Not when Yoongi’s lips leave Taehyung’s and begin to trail down his neck, sucking and licking. And Taehyung had never felt this breathless, this needy , pulling Yoongi impossibly close.

They pull apart to take off their shirts, and Taehyung struggles with fumbling fingers because he’s practically shaking he’s so turned on. Yoongi helps him get rid of it, huffing a laugh into his collarbone. Taehyung grinds down and that laugh turns into a low groan. They’re both half hard already.

The leather of the seats is cold against his back when Yoongi decides to flip them over, straddling Taehyung.

Taehyung looks so hot like this, Yoongi thinks. Spread out on the black leather, hair an absolute mess, lips swollen and slick with spit, chest heaving. His dark eyes glitter, reflecting the neon lights from the buzzing billboard outside. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate leaning down and claiming his lips again, sucking the bottom lip into his mouth. Taehyung whimpers, blunt nails digging into Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi undoes the buckle of Taehyung’s belt with nimble fingers, pushing down his tight jeans to his thighs. Taehyung is already clawing at Yoongi’s jeans in retaliation until his cock springs free. Taehyung is mouthing at Yoongi’s chest, leaving wet trails that make him shiver with the breeze that filters through the cracked open door. Yoongi spits onto his palm and takes both of their cocks together, sliding up to the tip and collecting the precome to smear around their shafts.

Taehyung’s hips twitch with a garbled moan stuck in his throat. His hand comes down to wrap around Yoongi’s. Yoongi finds his mouth again, pressing in closer. His tongue licks into the roof of Taehyung’s mouth, pulling a mewl that lifts in pitch at the end.

They’re both thrusting into their entwined palms, pace turning erratic, and Yoongi can feel the heat in his stomach coiling tighter and tighter.

Taehyung’s feet are awkwardly digging into the floor because the backseat of his Arrow is almost nonexistent and it’s a miracle they fit in here at all. But it doesn’t matter because Yoongi’s face is hovering above him, the same face that’s been haunting his thoughts since the moment he saw him at the parking lot of the grocery store. He’s panting with these breathy staccato moans that Taehyung wants to record and listen to forever (even if that’s a little creepy, when he thinks about it).

“Taeh...yung, fuck,” Yoongi breathes, dropping his forehead on Taehyung’s shoulder.

The way he says his name makes all the heat pool in Taehyung’s stomach and he’s so embarrassingly close. He slips his fingers in Yoongi’s sweaty hair, holding on for dear life. There is something about the whole thing that’s so urgent and intense. It’s like they’re still hormonal high schoolers who don’t know how to control themselves.

Yoongi sucks at the base of Taehyung’s neck, nipping almost harshly, and that perfect mix of pleasure and pain is what sends him over the edge.

“I’m-- Yoongi--” is all he gets out before he’s coming into their hands, back arching off the sticky leather.

Yoongi follows him a few pumps later with a muffled groan into Taehyung’s shoulder. They’re all sticky and sweaty and gross and while it was hot while it lasted, this is hopefully Taehyung’s last time desecrating his car like that. His limbs are still tingling from the force of his orgasm and he closes his eyes to just breathe for a minute.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Yoongi’s voice rasps as Taehyung lets go of the grip he had on his hair. “Do you have napkins in here or something?”

Taehyung gestures somewhere in the vague direction of the glove compartment, eyes still closed. He feels Yoongi leaning over him into the front passenger seat and the click of the glove box closing. There’s a cellophane rustle and he jerks with a yelp, eyes flying open as something cold and wet wipes across his stomach.

Yoongi huffs a laugh as he uses the wet wipes to clean them up. That oppressive citrus smell permeates the air as Yoongi takes Taehyung’s hand in his, wiping every finger one by one.

“I hope you won’t be driving around any passengers back here until you have the leather professionally cleaned,” he comments, throwing the used wipes into the front seat and pulling on his pants. His head is pressed up against the ceiling and he’s struggling and now it’s Taehyung who’s laughing.

“Don’t worry, I never have passengers in this car.” He tries to push Yoongi out of the door. “Let’s get out of here before either of us hurts ourselves.”

The night breeze is cold, especially near the river. Taehyung shivers as he pulls his shirt on. He catches a reflection of himself in the car’s window and he is a mess. Strands of his hair are floating, staticky, his lips are red and swollen, and his clothes are incredibly rumpled.

Yoongi is not much better off, but it looks sexy on him as he leans back against the gleaming orange of the Apollo Arrow, lighting a cigarette. The spark of the lighter lights up his face for a second and Taehyung is breathless again, staring at his profile outlined by the lights of the billboard. He straightens and walks up to face Yoongi. They’re close, faces inches apart, one of Taehyung’s legs sliding to rest between Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi smells of smoke and leather and peaches, and Taehyung wants to breathe that smell every day of his life.

Yoongi turns his face to the side to let out a mouthful of smoke. Taehyung brackets his shoulders with his arms, palms flat against the roof of the car. In this dim evening light it’s hard to see, but Taehyung is close enough to make out the small scar on Yoongi’s temple. Yoongi turns back to face Taehyung, a glimmer in his eyes.

“Someone looks eager for round two.” He cocks his head to the side, like he did that first time Taehyung met him.

Taehyung drops his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder to muffle his laugh. “Why do you always look so cute at the most inappropriate times?”

Yoongi kicks at his shin. “Cute? Who are you calling cute, kid?”

“We should do this again sometime,” Taehyung murmurs against his skin after a stretch of comfortable silence.

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette and wraps an arm around Taehyung’s waist. “What, ditching the drag race or fucking in the backseat of a sports car?”

“Both.” Taehyung totally forgot there even was a drag race. “But shit, I wonder who actually won.”

“Well it was either you or me.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. “Ask Hoseok when you see him.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Why do you smell like peaches?”

“Body wash?” Yoongi answers, hooking his chin over Taehyung’s shoulder.


Yoongi kicks at his shin again, a little harder this time.

Over the next two months they meet at Hoseok’s races and Taehyung’s priorities switch from winning to following Yoongi. After every race they end up driving off somewhere together and Taehyung learns to keep lube in the glove compartment.

Yoongi is more addicting than driving and Taehyung catches himself thinking of him a lot more often than he should.

Sometimes he’d pop up at Yoongi’s place for breakfast when he runs out of cereal or when waking up alone in his empty Gangnam apartment gets too much. Yoongi never bats an eyelash (even at the fact that Taehyung remembered how to get to his house) and makes scrambled eggs for two in exchange for Taehyung hogging up his barstools and poking at everything in his immediate proximity.

Sometimes they make out messily until one of them knocks something over and they dissipate into uncontrollable giggles (or mostly Taehyung does, and Yoongi laughs because Taehyung’s laugh is funny). They don’t go any further than that, at least not at Yoongi’s house.

One time Taehyung ventures out of the kitchen, picking up one of the papers that constantly seem to litter the couch.

“What do you do for a living, hyung?” he asks, trying to make out the illegible scribbles.

Yoongi looks at him from behind the fridge door. “I breathe. Everyone breathes for a living or they wouldn’t be alive. Put that down, Taehyung.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I meant your job. How do you make enough money to drive around an SSC?”

He squints at the words on the paper and he can almost make sense of them but Yoongi is by his side in a second, snatching it out of his hand and throwing it back down. He then proceeds to shove the rest of the papers into one corner of the couch, crumpling them together.

“I saved up for a long time to buy that car,” he replies, taking Taehyung’s wrist and dragging him back into the kitchen. “I told you not to touch shit, for fuck’s sake, why can’t you just stay in one place?”

Taehyung slips out of Yoongi’s grip and backs him against the fridge. “Sorry.” He smiles cheekily and pecks Yoongi on the nose.

The latter scrunches up his whole face. “I’m kicking you out.”

“You still haven’t fed me, hyung.” Taehyung bats his eyelashes. “You wouldn’t kick out a hungry child, would you?”

Yoongi pushes past Taehyung with a snort, smacking his ass for good measure. “You’re twenty-five, act like it. Eat your eggs and stop being difficult.”

The next time Taehyung comes over, the papers are gone from the couch and Taehyung feels a small twinge of disappointment. He knows Yoongi is not obliged to tell him anything and it’s not like Taehyung shares much personal information either. They’re not even dating. Or maybe they are; Taehyung doesn’t know what they are because they never talk about it. He feels like if he tries to bring it up, everything will get ruined.

It’s evening but the sun hadn’t started to set yet. The breeze smells of summer promises even though the air is still chilly. The observation deck is empty save for the muted gleam of their cars. Yoongi can see the whole of Seoul from here, but it’s gray, with the lights only barely starting to come on. Like a stray string of fairy lights.

Yoongi looks over at Taehyung. His hair is being tousled by the wind, light brown locks catching on his eyelashes. He turns to Yoongi, catching his stare. Yoongi doesn’t look away, holding his gaze until Taehyung cracks a smile.

They ended up here by pure coincidence. Yoongi took his Aero to Hoseok’s garage to change his brake pads. Taehyung was already there, apparently picking up his Arrow from a paint job. He looked just as surprised as Yoongi.

Hoseok just treated them to one of his impressive eyebrow lifts and offered to have his new apprentice, Jeon Jeong-something with wide eyes and a bunny smile, change Yoongi’s breaks for practice. Usually Yoongi wouldn’t let anyone near the engine of his Aero, especially not for practice , but Taehyung practically vibrated with excitement and a “I can keep you company while you wait, hyung!”

So they ended up sitting cross-legged next to each other on the hood of a white ‘84 Testarossa, watching Bunny Teeth sliding under Yoongi’s Aero and using an unnecessary variety of wrenches.

“You painted your Arrow red?” Yoongi asked, turning to face Taehyung to keep himself from getting into his car and running Bunny Teeth over.

“Candy Apple Red,” Taehyung confirmed with pride.

“Neon Orange wasn’t obnoxious enough?”

“Red goes better with black,” Taehyung shrugged and Yoongi stared, not sure what to make of that statement or the sudden increase in the pace of his pulse.

“You-- you painted your car to match mine?” he asked, barely able to keep himself from sputtering.

“We drive next to each other pretty often.” Taehyung grinned but it was subdued somehow. “Why not make it aesthetic?”

Yoongi reached over to ruffle Taehyung’s hair but his hand stilled in the tawny strands. His fingers picked up a lock, twirling it. “You should get a haircut, Mr. Aesthetic.”

Taehyung leaned closer, that look in his eyes. The kind of look that said he knew things Yoongi didn’t. “Let’s go try out your new brake pads after this?”

And that’s how Yoongi ended up following Taehyung up Bugaksan-ro and through a private mountain road until they reached a clearing.

Now, Yoongi is leaning over the railing and lighting a cigarette. Taehyung shuffles to stand closer to him.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” he says and blows a billow of smoke into the wind.

“I know the property’s owner, so no, it’s not illegal,” Taehyung replies. “The view from up here is should be illegal, though, especially at night. I kind of wish I lived here.”

Yoongi kind of thinks the view of Taehyung’s face should be illegal. He inhales another breath of smoke into his lungs. “It would be one hell of a trip just to get to and from work every day, though.”

Taehyung hums. “It could be worth it.”

Yoongi turns to face him again, leaning his side into the rail. Taehyung steps on the lower part of the rail and leans forward as far as he can. Yoongi is starting to feel embarrassed for how much unnecessary staring he’s doing. Taehyung cranes his neck to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“What if I fall over?” he asks.

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette. “Then you’d be a fucking idiot.”

Taehyung swings his body back and takes a step away from the rail, laughing. “You have such a strange way of non-answering questions.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi replies, tugging Taehyung closer by his belt buckle.

Taehyung plucks the cigarette out of Yoongi’s fingers and Yoongi lets him put it out against the peeling metal of the rail. He leans in until their noses almost touch.

“I take you out to see this spectacular view but you don’t even care.” Yoongi can hear the pout in his voice.

“Why do I feel like you’d be the type of person to say that you are the view?” Yoongi asks, fingers brushing the skin below Taehyung’s thin shirt hem.

“Because I definitely am that type of person,” Taehyung replies, voice dropping half a pitch.

Yoongi’s other hand comes up to tug the loose collar of his shirt to the side, revealing Taehyung’s collarbones. He leans down to place a soft kiss there.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is,” he murmurs against the golden skin. His lips trail down, along the border of the shirt collar. He can hear Taehyung’s soft breaths in his ear as he stops at a particular spot and sucks.

Taehyung’s hands are clutching the back of Yoongi’s jacket as he lets out a sigh. Yoongi can never get enough of Taehyung’s skin. He leaves a blooming red mark just below the left collarbone, moving up to Taehyung’s neck.

Yoongi can feel Taehyung’s rising pulse as he presses his tongue against Taehyung’s jugular. He sucks another mark just below his jaw and the low sound Taehyung emits vibrates against Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi continues along Taehyung’s jawline, leaving open-mouthed kisses as Taehyung tilts head for better access.

Taehyung’s hands shift from Yoongi’s back to his neck, and guide Yoongi’s mouth to his. Their lips meld together with slow intensity, dragging against each other. Yoongi hums into the kiss, splaying a palm on the small of Taehyung’s back, the cold skin of his hand a contrast against Taehyung’s warmth.

Taehyung pulls away for breath, cheeks flushed. He huffs against Yoongi’s mouth, warm breath fanning across his face.

“Hyung,” he says in a breathless whisper. “Yoongi. I… Can I suck you off?”

It’s like someone wrings the breath out of him. Yoongi gasps some kind of affirmation, all the blood rushing south at the image. They'd done this so many times over the past few months but somehow the novelty is yet to be worn off.

Taehyung’s arms slide from his neck to his belt, long fingers fumbling with Yoongi’s belt buckle.  Cold air hits his bare thighs when Taehyung manages to slide his jeans and boxers down. Yoongi hisses at the feeling, goosebumps forming on his skin. But then Taehyung’s knees hit the dead grass, and those long fingers wrap around Yoongi’s shaft. Warm breath hits his cock and Taehyung looks up at Yoongi as he takes the tip into his mouth. Yoongi shudders, but not from the cold this time, as Taehyung twirls his tongue around the head. He takes him in deeper, hollowing his cheeks and not breaking eye contact. Yoongi’s hand brushes Taehyung’s bangs off his forehead and tightens his grip. Taehyung hums around the cock in his mouth, bobbing his head. Yoongi’s breathing is turning ragged as he watches his cock sliding in and out of Taehyung’s lips. The wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth is making the pressure in his lower abdomen increase.

“Tae…” He tightens his hold on Taehyung’s hair. “Tae, I want to fuck you.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches and he slides his mouth off Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi pulls him up and kisses him, hard, tongues clashing and teeth clacking. They stumble to Taehyung’s car and Yoongi almost gets hit in the face when the gullwing door comes up. Taehyung rummages through the glove compartment as Yoongi works on getting him rid of his pants.

Yoongi snatches the lube bottle out of Taehyung’s hands when he finally finds it and reclines the passenger seat as far as it would go. Taehyung leans back in it, pulling Yoongi on top of him to kiss him again. After Yoongi pulls away, he opens the bottle and pours the liquid onto his fingers.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this to my car again,” Taehyung says with an attempted laugh, voice low and feathery. “But here we are.”

“Yeah, and let's hope this really is a private road and no one finds us,” Yoongi adds as his fingers brush against Taehyung’s hole.

Taehyung gasps as the tip of Yoongi’s finger pushes against the ring of muscle. Yoongi leaves wet kisses down Taehyung’s neck as he pushes in the finger all the way.

“Fuck, holy shit,” Taehyung pants after Yoongi adds the second finger. Yoongi’s teeth graze against Taehyung’s nipple as his fingers start pumping in and out. Taehyung’s hips start meeting Yoongi’s movements and he adds a third finger.

Taehyung lets out a low drawn-out moan when Yoongi’s fingers brush against his prostate. Yoongi makes sure to press against it with every thrust. Taehyung is a writhing mess against the leather of the seat and Yoongi is so hard it hurts. He pulls his fingers out of Taehyung, kissing him long and firm to muffle the resulting whine.

“Get up,” he whispers against Taehyung’s lips. “I want to fuck you against the car.”

Taehyung groans. “Yeah, fuck. Okay.”

Yoongi gets out, pulling Taehyung up with him and grabbing the condom from the mess of the glove compartment. He almost hits his head on the goddamn doors again. They really should stop fucking in cars before an injury occurs.

He bends Taehyung over the hood of the Arrow, placing kisses down his back and sliding the condom onto his dick.

“Fucking Yoongi, fuck me already, fuck--” Taehyung cuts off into moan as Yoongi’s cock slowly slides into him.

“You say fuck a lot when you’re horny,” Yoongi says, voice strained as he holds himself from slamming into Taehyung.

“Fucking move,” Taehyung growls, grinding his hips back.

So Yoongi does, pulling out and slamming back in. There’s a squeak as Taehyung’s palms slip on the metal. Yoongi sets the pace, pulling out slowly and and pounding in with force. Taehyung is garbling profanities into his car and Yoongi is already so close, Taehyung’s heat tightening around him. His nails dig into Taehyung’s hipbones, and he knows there’ll be half-moon-shaped bruises there later.

“Yoongi I… fuck-- please.” Taehyung is such a mess and Yoongi speeds up. He mouths at Taehyung’s shoulder blade, lightly bites his shoulder to keep himself from saying something stupid.

He reaches around to wrap Taehyung’s cock in his hand, pumping it in time with his rapidly-turning erratic thrusts. Yoongi comes first, spots of white floating into his vision. He thrusts in a few more times, milking the orgasm as he gives Taehyung’s leaking cock a few more pumps before the latter is spilling all over his hand and the car with a broken cry.

They still, breathing harshly. The air is suddenly a lot colder than it was before and Yoongi pulls out. His muscles lock at the temperature and he rests his forehead against Taehyung’s back, trying to catch his breath.

He pulls away and peels the condom off, tying it and throwing it into the bushes. He hopes the property owner doesn’t look at his shrubbery too closely.

“I don’t want to move for the next twenty hours,” Taehyung mumbles, cheek pressed against the metal of the car.

Yoongi zips up his jeans and reaches in for the citrusy wet wipes. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

He wipes Taehyung’s stomach and dick, and takes out another napkin to clean up the mess on the car.

Taehyung makes a face. “That makes my dick sting.”

Yoongi shrugs, starting to pull up Taehyung’s pants. “Then get shit that doesn’t sting your dick. They’re your wipes.”

Taehyung makes a sound, something akin to a dying whale, and Yoongi reaches into the car again to grab a pair of blankets that he’s learned Taehyung keeps there for ‘emergencies’ (he’s not quite sure what kind of emergency constitutes blankets but he hopes this can be counted as one).

He slams shut the stupid gullwing door and manhandles Taehyung to lay parallel on the hood. Yoongi climbs up next to him and lifts Taehyung’s head up from the cold metal to put one of the folded blankets there instead. He lowers Taehyung’s head back on it carefully and unfolds the second blanket. It’s cheetah print (of course) and Yoongi covers them both with it. Taehyung snuggles closer and Yoongi slides his arm under Taehyung’s neck. There’s a pleasant thrum just below his skin and his limbs feel heavy.

“Why do we never fuck in your car?” Taehyung asks, voice still a little rough.

“Because.” He presses his lips against Taehyung's temple and stays like that for a little while before continuing. “You already violate my house. So I violate your car in revenge.”

“We don’t even do anything at your house,” Taehyung huffs indignantly.

“Yet somehow you managed to break three plates, my favorite mug, and a barstool.”

“I’ll buy you a new favorite mug,” he throws his arm over Yoongi’s ribs and digs his nose into Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. It’s cold, even under the blanket, but Taehyung’s body heat is enough for now. The evening settles around them, painting the sky a darker shade of navy. He can see the city lights twinkling with more intensity in the distance.

“You smell like peaches,” Taehyung mumbles against his skin, warm breath sending goosebumps throughout Yoongi’s neck.

“You say this literally every time you smell me, which is alarmingly often.”

“Yeah, because you do.”

“And I will continue to smell that way unless I change my body wash.”

He can feel Taehyung’s smile against him. They settle into a silence and Yoongi lazily runs his fingers through strands of Taehyung’s hair.

“The new paint job looks nice,” Yoongi comments at some point.

“Really?” Taehyung’s voice is starting to sound sleepy. “You like it?”

“Of course I like it.” I like everything you do. I like you.

Taehyung lets out a contented sigh and places a kiss at Yoongi’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Naps on car hoods, Yoongi finds out later on, are not a good idea unless you're looking for long-lingering back pain. But it's worth it, when he wakes up to warm kisses and warm Taehyung.

It’s almost May already, nearing Taehyung’s mom’s death anniversary. It’s not Taehyung’s favorite time of the year. He stops showing up at races and he knows Hoseok understands. He does this every year.

He stops coming to Yoongi’s house in the mornings, too.

It gets to the point where he can’t do his job properly and he decides that he deserves a break. He’s laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, but the echoing ticking of the clock is taking his mind places he doesn’t particularly enjoy. He only lasts ten minutes before he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a worn-out sweater. He grabs his Carrera keys off the counter and ten minutes later he barges in through Yoongi’s door, smiling at the latter in what he hopes is an apologetic enough grin.

Yoongi doesn’t look like he’d been sleeping, even though it’s nearing 2 AM. He lets Taehyung in without a word and closes the door. Taehyung has never been here any other time than mornings and he notices that the papers are back on the couch, chaotically strewn about, leaving one small empty spot where he assumes Yoongi was sitting. Taehyung stays in the lobby and Yoongi must sense something is wrong because he doesn’t say anything, just waits for Taehyung to speak.

“Let’s go on a roadtrip,” Taehyung blurts, eyes a little wild.

Yoongi stands there for a few seconds and Taehyung thinks he’s going to kick him out. But then he grabs his jacket from the coat hanger, steps into his sneakers and pushes Taehyung out of the door.

“Let’s go,” he says, turns off the lights and locks the door once they’re out in the hall. Taehyung keeps on glancing over at him as they descend down the stairs to the garage. Yoongi, to put it mildly, looks like shit. His hair is black now, tousled locks resembling a hair nest. The skin under his eyes is a light blue tint. The dim lights of the garage cast shadows over the angles of his face, making him look even more hollow-faced.

Taehyung wants to hug him and never let go. He’d missed him.

Letting someone else take take the wheel while he sits in the passenger seat has always been a sign of trust for Taehyung, especially if it’s another racer. He slides into the leather seat of the Aero, buckling up and glancing over at Yoongi again, who starts the engine. A robotic voice informs them that the bluetooth is on. Yoongi taps a few things on his phone and the salon fills up with a slow beat and smooth electronic instrumental, later joined by atmospheric vocals.

“Do I get to pick the destination?” Yoongi asks, voice soft as he navigates the streets.

“Yeah, okay,” Taehyung replies and lets his hand loosely wrap around the wrist of Yoongi’s hand that rests on the gear shifter.

They’re moving down the expressway now, going a little above 150 km/h according to the speedometer. Yoongi is leaning back, one relaxed hand guiding the wheel. It feels like they’re just cruising on clouds or something because everything is so smooth and unhurried. This is Taehyung’s first time watching Yoongi drive up close and it’s already an experience.

When Taehyung drives, he prefers silence so he can hear every sound the car makes. The rev of the engine, the build of the gears, the screech of the breaks. It never gets boring. A lot of people Taehyung knows play music, too, but it’s usually the loud trashy kind with a fast beat to match the pace of their heartbeat that skyrockets with the speed.

But Yoongi is so calm and collected, so relaxed, as he tears down the road, past occasional cars, like a ghost. The music is unfamiliar but soothing. Taehyung is fascinated.

“You’ve been staring at me since the moment we started driving,” Yoongi says, turning to face him, head tilted to the side. “I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of stare or a bad kind.”

Taehyung blinks. “It’s just,” he sits up and turns away, choosing to ignore how terribly attracted he is to the man next to him. “I like your music choice.”

Yoongi’s gaze is on the road again. “Driving is the only time I can enjoy music in peace. There’s something really calming about going at breakneck speed and listening to music I didn’t write.”

Taehyung is back to staring. “Of course you write music.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Of course I do.”

Taehyung laughs. He’s feeling better, talking to Yoongi, so he continues. “What kind of music do you write that you drive an Aero and live in a two-story house all by yourself?”

“It’s a three-story house. I rent the ground floor to Kim Seokjin, who runs a cafe.”

“Ah.” Taehyung nods. “Nice.”

“I write music for girl groups,” Yoongi says. “And occasional movie soundtracks.”

Taehyung’s eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. “Wait, are you for real?”

“Believe me when I tell you trashy pop music makes a shit ton of money.”

“Which songs did you write?” Taehyung asks, rocking Yoongi’s wrist back and forth. “Is that what all the the papers on your couch are?”

“I honestly don’t even remember,” Yoongi says. “They all sound the same to me by now. I’m pretty sure I did more than half of Girls’ Generation’s full discography at some point.”

“You don’t remember ?”

Yoongi shrugs. “For each commission I just get certain specifications and I write a song to match it. I don’t even bother to look up who I’m writing it for because it’s really all the same. There is a formula to these things, it’s not an art. But it more than pays the bills, so I don’t mind most of the time.”

Taehyung regards him curiously. Yoongi doesn’t talk this much often. “Most of the time?” he prods.

Yoongi looks over at him. “Yeah.” He raises an eyebrow. “And this week was not that time.”

Things make a little more sense now and Taehyung nods. They both need a break.

“You know, you constantly harass me about my job but how the hell does an antique dealer salary pay for your fancy car collection?” Yoongi asks and Taehyung turns to stare at him again. “Are you a third generation chaebol or something?”

“How did you know that?” Taehyung asks, going rigid. “About the antique dealer thing?”

Yoongi is quiet for a bit as he stares at the road ahead. The soft blue underlight of the car reflects on his face and the gentle chords of the music filters between them. “Hoseok told me,” Yoongi says eventually and Taehyung lets out a breath.

“You asked Hoseok about me?” he asks, not sure how to feel.

“Or I guess you don’t really need to be a chaebol if you’re selling the types of ‘antiques’ that I think you might be,” Yoongi continues as if Taehyung didn’t speak. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell the government on you, if that’s the reason you look so scared shitless right now.”

That pulls a sharp laugh out of him. “Believe me, the government is one of my biggest clients,” he says, instantly wanting to punch himself in the face. He’s not sure why he decided to say that. Maybe it’s because Yoongi had been saying things, too, and they’re actually talking instead of dancing around topics with clever comebacks.

Yoongi doesn’t seem like he cares all that much or like he wants to pry. He shakes Taehyung’s grip off his wrist and entwines their fingers together. “You should go to sleep, we still have a little less than two hours of driving left.”

Taehyung doesn’t ask where they’re going and leans his forehead against the window. He doubts he’ll actually fall asleep, but Yoongi’s thumb is tracing lazy patterns over the back of his hand and the soft hum of the music is lulling the ugliness of his thoughts into the back of his brain until everything feels like it’s okay again.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re in an empty parking lot with a lot of trees around. Yoongi is leaning down, doing what looks like tying his shoelaces. The overhead car light is on, eliminating everything is a slightly harsh white.

Taehyung blinks. “We’re here?”

Yoongi looks up at him, looking strangely excited. “Yeah. I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes because we’re about to go on a three-hour hike.”

That wakes Taehyung right up. “What the fuck.”

He gets out of the car to be faced with a sudden onslaught of nature. It’s dark because it’s the middle of the night and Taehyung is not even sure they’re allowed here. Yoongi emerges with his phone flashlight on and locks the car doors. Taehyung shivers a little, but the air is not that cold. Yoongi offers his hand and Taehyung takes it.

And just like that, they’re walking down the trail, in the middle of the night. Taehyung can hear the rush of water somewhere to his right and Yoongi tells him there should be a waterfall brook around here.

“Are you going to tell me where we are?” Taehyung asks as his eyes start adjusting to the darkness. He can make out silhouettes of trees and boulders, lots of boulders (or what he hopes are just boulders) as they reach a wooden boardwalk.

“Biseulsan,” Yoongi replies, tugging Taehyung along, their feet thumping against the wood. “I want to hike the Azalea trail.”

Taehyung’s breath catches in his throat. He remembers coming here a few times with his grandma when he still lived in Daegu. He misses his grandma in that longing nostalgic way he misses his childhood.

Taehyung kind of likes this, the absolute insanity of the whole thing. Who the hell even does something like this? Driving all the way out to Daegu to hike up a random mountain in the middle of the night with absolutely no prior planning? Apparently Yoongi does and Taehyung is grateful. The air is different here and everything is quiet. It would be creepy as fuck, with Yoongi’s phone flashlight jerkily moving around with his walk, but then the moon comes out from the clouds, bathing everything in a silvery film and everything is so beautiful that Taehyung wants to cry.

“I used to come here every spring break with my parents,” Yoongi says as they walk side by side, hand in hand. “We would rent a cabin and explore all the small trails that all the hoards of tourists didn’t get to.”

The bridge boardwalk ends and the trail starts ascending. Moonlight filters through the tree canopies but Yoongi keeps his flashlight on.

“I’ve been here, too, a few times,” Taehyung says, swinging their arms a bit. “But I’m afraid my grandma and I were part of the tourist hoard.”

They climb the rest in silence to preserve their breath. By the time they get to the boardwalk-like part of the trail that goes through the open fields, Yoongi’s phone is dying and they’re huffing and puffing like they’d just run a marathon. Taehyung is by no means cold anymore, sweat sliding down his back. Yoongi doesn’t look much better off, sweat matting his bangs to his forehead.

For a moment they just stop and stare. The view is fucking brilliant.

It’s just the sloping field stretching ahead of them into a mountain peak. The moonlight is shining brightly, and the pink of the azaleas is tinged a little metallic from it. It looks like something out of a dream. Taehyung looks up and can actually see the cluster of the Milky Way. All the stars are crowding in on top of each other like there isn’t enough space in the rest of the universe, like they all want a spot in the Earth’s view of the sky.

He forgets to breathe for a minute.

“I always say things look better at night and I am yet to be proven wrong,” Yoongi says, voice low as if to not disturb the silence around them. Taehyung startles a bit anyway. He almost forgets Yoongi is standing next to him.

“Yeah,” he manages.

After another minute they continue at a steady stroll. Taehyung can’t stop staring at everything around him and Yoongi tries to muffle a laugh when he trips over his own feet. They end up wandering off the trail into the field of flowers. Taehyung whines about bugs, and who knows what else is lurking in there, for a good five minutes until Yoongi (with a very longsuffering sigh) takes off his jacket for him to sit on.

Yoongi ends up laying down with Taehyung’s head resting on his stomach. Taehyung is twirling pink azalea flowers between his fingers and it feels like they’re the only people in the universe. Taehyung likes that feeling entirely too much.

“Did you know?” Yoongi asks, fingers carding through Taehyung’s locks. “If you ever get azaleas in a black vase from someone that means they’re sending you a death threat?”

Taehyung brings the flower close to his face and squints at it. “Really? Now I know what to send to all the people I hate. They’ll think I’m being nice to them but it’s actually a death threat. Neat.”

“What’s the point if they don’t know that it’s a death threat?” Yoongi asks. He’s watching the sky, trying to pick out any constellations he might remember.

Taehyung hums. Yoongi thinks he can see the Big Dipper. Or maybe not. There are so many stars that any of them can be connected into the shape of Big Dipper if you look close enough.

“Did you know?” Taehyung’s voice is so soft, but Yoongi hears it anyway. “My mom died in a car accident. I was just learning how to drive and she was teaching me. And then I was ranting how she should stop yelling every time I forgot to turn on my blinker. And I ran a red light.” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “And then boom! ” He throws a bunch of azalea petals into the air. “And she was dead. And I wasn’t.” Yoongi’s fingers still in his hair and Taehyung laughs a little brokenly. “So now I keep on hoping I was. But I forget sometimes, you know? I forget that I’m driving around dangerous cars to kill myself.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Taehyung doesn’t bother feeling embarrassed for his outburst. It feels good to finally say this out loud to someone even if they don’t care. He doesn’t even realize there are tears dripping out of his eyes until he feels a wet trail going down into his ear.

“You’re crying on my shirt,” Yoongi says and Taehyung quickly wipes at his eyes and sits up.  Yoongi sits up as well and pulls Taehyung into a tight hug. “But it’s okay, I don’t really care.”

Taehyung hiccups in surprise at the fierceness of Yoongi’s hold. “Does that mean I can cry on it more?”

He means it as a joke, to try and lighten up this sudden heaviness in the air, but Yoongi kisses his forehead with such gentleness that he really does start crying again. He buries his face in Yoongi’s chest so Yoongi doesn’t have to see his ugly crying face. They drop back to the ground, into the bed of flowers.

Everything feels surreal as Taehyung cries out everything his lachrymal glands have to offer. He feels a little numb by the end and he knows he must look a mighty disaster but Yoongi wipes the wetness off his face with the corner of his shirt and places a kiss on each cheekbone.

“Your mom doesn’t hate you, Tae,” Yoongi says, thumb brushing over Taehyung’s cheek. “It takes a lot more for a mother to even think about hating her child. If she doesn’t hate you, you shouldn’t either.”

Taehyung expects something along the lines of “your mom doesn’t care anymore, she’s dead,” but the tenderness of Yoongi’s tone is startling. Yoongi is always caring in the subtlest of ways, even when he’s fucking Taehyung into oblivion, but he’s never been so obvious about it. It’s overwhelming and a part of Taehyung is frightened that it can disappear at any moment.

The way Yoongi says his mom doesn’t hate him almost makes Taehyung believe him. He doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear these words until he hears them. It doesn’t magically make everything okay, but it’s like a big weight he didn’t even realize was there lifts off his chest. He almost starts crying again but manages to contain himself.

“Sorry,” Taehyung’s voice is wet. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“Apology not accepted.” Yoongi’s eyes glitter in the moonlight and Taehyung stares into them, taking deep breaths. “Because that’s not something you should be sorry for.”

Yoongi’s finger traces down Taehyung’s temple to his neck, up the slope of his shoulder. Taehyung shivers at the contact.

“Did you know?” Yoongi whispers. “I really fucking hate my job. That’s why I never talk about it.”

That gets a weak chuckle out of Taehyung. “I can relate to that. How did you even get a job as a music producer if you hate writing music?”

“I don’t hate writing music, I just never get to write the music I want.” His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. “You know, right before you came over tonight, I was this close to taking out all my savings and buying a one way ticket to Australia or something. Never coming back. Starting a simple life where no one knows me and I get to do whatever I want.”

“And then I showed up and demanded we go on a roadtrip?”

“No, then I decided to wait until the morning and see if you’d show up so I could take you with me,” Yoongi’s tone is joking but his eyes are not. “But then you decided to show up earlier.”

“Do you still want to go to Australia?” Taehyung asks, gently picking at pieces of grass on the ground between them.

“I don’t know.” Yoongi’s hand is resting over Taehyung’s waist and he pulls Taehyung’s body a little closer. They stare at each other for at least another minute before Yoongi speaks again. “I really missed you.”

Taehyung’s fingers violently twist the strands of grass he was pulling on. He can feel his own heartbeat in his throat. Yoongi leans even closer and connects their lips. Taehyung closes his eyes and sighs. Yoongi’s lips are so soft on his and Taehyung is clutching at his grass with all his might.

They have kissed before, many times, and Taehyung likes kissing. He’s kissed many people in his lifetime. But none of those times were like this. It’s what Taehyung supposes first kisses should feel like. There’s no intent for anything else in it, no promise of sex or anything of the sort. It’s just a kiss filled with jam-packed vulnerability and pure innocent affection. Taehyung is not sure how to deal with something like that.

He kisses back and decides he doesn’t have any more fucks to give. His heartbeat screams I’m in love with Min Yoongi louder than anything Taehyung has ever head in his life and even if some small part of him doesn’t want Yoongi to hear it, he simply doesn’t care anymore.

Their lips move together, slowly, carefully, and Taehyung’s hand lets go of the grass to cup Yoongi’s jaw. They pull apart after a minute, breaths mingling together. No one says a word.

They don’t see the sun come up behind them, but Taehyung notices how the sky starts turning from dark grays to lighter shades. Yoongi looks up to watch in rapt attention as dawn takes over night. Taehyung’s hand drops back to the grass but Yoongi’s palm covers the back of his hand, tangling their fingers together.

The morning mist settles over them and everything starts turning damp and gross. Yoongi asks if Taehyung wants to head back and they get up to collect themselves. Yoongi continues complaining sleepily that his jacket is ruined now. At this point, Taehyung feels like someone took out his insides, turned them inside out and shoved them back in. He’s tired and kind of hungry and so very confused, so he decides to turn off his brain and enjoy this for however long it lasts. He snickers into Yoongi’s shoulder and pushes him along onto the trail. The birds are singing all around them even if the sun has barely breached the horizon. Taehyung busies himself  with picking out pieces of grass and petals from Yoongi’s hair as they walk. The path is easier because they’re going down instead of up this time. Everything looks that much more breathtaking in the rose-gold glow of the sunrise and maybe Taehyung is not ready for this to be over at all.

Yoongi is not the type to let anyone drive his car, especially not someone like Taehyung. But he lets him anyway, mostly because there is no other choice.

Yoongi is absolutely exhausted. He hasn’t slept for the last seventy-two hours and the hike sucked every single ounce of strength that was left in him. The moment the back of his head hits the headrest, he’s out like a light.

Taehyung drives them back in silence. It’s strange to drive Yoongi’s car, especially with Yoongi asleep in the passenger seat. This is the most careful Taehyung has ever driven any car. This early, the expressway is practically empty and now that there is nothing to distract him, his thoughts decide to rear their ugly heads.

This version of Min Yoongi, the tired, impulsive, emotional and overly talkative version is so fucking terrifying. It’s frightening because Taehyung is not sure how real it is. He’s not sure how real this whole night was. Maybe it’s just some strange dream, some kind of wishful thinking. That kiss should mean something , but Taehyung is not sure. He’s not sure of anything at this point. He doesn’t even want to think of what’s going to happen next. How is Yoongi going to act next time they see each other? Will he pretend this didn’t happen?

Taehyung looks over at Yoongi. His head is leaning against the window, cheek sticking to the glass. An azalea flower that Taehyung left on purpose is still buried in his soft black hair. He looks so content when he sleeps. A string of longing pulls at Taehyung’s heart, cutting into all the painful places. Another image for his Yoongi folder. Only now it’s not just a folder, it’s a whole filing cabinet that takes up half of Taehyung’s brain space. It’s unfair, Taehyung thinks. He doesn’t want to keep folders, like they’re all precious findings he’ll never see again. He wants to have all of it, all of Yoongi, without fearing that he’ll disappear.

Taehyung notices a CD holder built into the dashboard and takes out the first disk because the silence is starting to suffocate him. It’s labeled “Bruno Major & Klyne” in English letters, black marker smudged. Then, in smaller hanja, it says “for when everything is going to shit.” Taehyung pops it into the CD player. He hasn’t seen CD mixes in the longest time and it makes him smile. He turns the volume on low so it wouldn’t disturb Yoongi’s sleep.

It’s the same type of music Yoongi was playing earlier, soothing and chill, and it brings a smile to Taehyung’s face because it’s so perfect and so Yoongi and it almost hurts just how much he wants this, how much he wants Yoongi.


An hour later, he’s dragging a dead-asleep Yoongi up the stairs and into the house. He gives up at some point and just picks him up, bridal style, to carry him up the second set of stairs into the bedroom. Taehyung has never been up here, but he spots the bed instantly, and what looks like studio space to the side. He lays Yoongi down on the bed and has to catch his breath for a minute because Yoongi is actually really heavy for such a tiny human and Taehyung hasn’t been to a gym in at least a year. He’s still wheezing a bit as he starts to take off Yoongi’s shoes and jacket. He covers him with a blanket and sits down on the edge of the bed.

Rays of morning light are starting to filter through the downstairs windows, bathing everything in an ethereal glow. Taehyung is so tired he doesn’t think he can stand up, much less drive all the way back home. He decides to lean back into the bed, just to rest for a few minutes so he wouldn’t pass out in the middle of the road. He promises himself he wouldn’t fall asleep.

Taehyung wakes up to the smell and sound of frying eggs. His eyes snap open because who the fuck dared to break into his apartment and make breakfast with his malfunctioning kitchen appliances? But that’s when he realizes he’s not even in his own bed. He’s swaddled in black and white patterned blankets and the walls are brick and this is so not his house. Of fucking course, this is Yoongi’s house and he fell asleep here when he promised himself he wouldn’t. There’s a clock on the wall and Taehyung squints at it. Apparently it’s already five o’clock and why the fuck is Yoongi making breakfast in the evening?

Taehyung slides out of the bed, leg muscles screaming in pain. Everything hurts. The events of last night slowly filter through his sleep-muddled mind as he descends the stairs to the main floor. His eyes fall on Yoongi’s back and something in his chest squeezes. He looks like he’d already showered, judging by the damp tips of his hair and the clean white t-shirt.

Yoongi doesn’t turn around until Taehyung lands in one of the barstools. He’d contemplated just walking out the door, but his own selfishness and some kind of twisted feeling of masochism wouldn’t let him. So here he is, ready to torture himself.

Yoongi turns around, spatula in hand, and wrinkles his nose at the sight of Taehyung. “You look in dire need of a shower.”

Taehyung casts him a bemused frown. “Thanks.”

Yoongi places a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Taehyung. “Eat first, though.”

Taehyung blinks at the eggs, staring them down. Yoongi is acting like nothing is wrong. Taehyung knows he would do that but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Yoongi sits across from him with his own plate, but he doesn’t eat either. “Hey.” Taehyung notices something strange in Yoongi’s gaze when he looks up but then it’s gone and Taehyung can pretend he didn’t notice it. “Stop having a staring contest with your food. You’ll never win,” he says, stabbing a piece of egg with his fork.

Taehyung rolls his eyes halfheartedly and forces himself to eat. It’s not that hard because it turns out that Taehyung is starving. They end up demolishing half the egg carton between them until Taehyung feels like he’s going to pop. They slip back into their old banter easily enough and Taehyung can almost pretend like nothing happened.

Yoongi is washing the dishes (because apparently he doesn’t believe in dishwashers) and Taehyung can’t help draping himself over his back.

Yoongi elbows him in the stomach. “Your chin feels like a knife digging into my shoulder,” he grumbles.

Taehyung drops back onto the barstool and watches Yoongi from there. “I dragged your ass up three flights of stairs this morning, the least you can do is tolerate the feeling of a knife in your shoulder for a minute," he complains bitterly.

Yoongi turns off the water and drains a mug, placing it on the counter. “That’s why I made you breakfast.”

“It’s almost six in the evening so it’s technically not breakfast.”

“Technically it is, because we just woke up.”

"Breakfast is a set meal time, you can't just have it whenever."



Yoongi tilts his head to the side and Taehyung wants to kiss him so bad.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Taehyung chokes on air. That’s the last thing he expects to come out of Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi is watching him, unwavering, and Taehyung thinks he deciphers just a glimmer of belated panic in his eyes.

“Why?” His voice might have come out as a squeak but Taehyung is more concerned with the stupid question he just asked.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but Taehyung notices him picking at the hem of his shirt with nervous fingers. “I’m not going to explain to you why people fall in love, Tae. I just wanted you to know that I did.”

It’s so fucking scary, Taehyung thinks, because what if this is not real? But it is, it has to be. So he gets up from the chair and steps toward Yoongi. “Hyung…”

Yoongi must see some kind of confirmation in that because he takes Taehyung by the shoulders and starts guiding him toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower so we can go back to bed and I can kiss you properly.”

Taehyung stops at the entrance to the bathroom and turns around to face Yoongi. He presses his lips to Yoongi’s cheek and whispers “I fucking love you, too” before closing the door behind him.

Taehyung is waiting at the start line, engine idling. It’s a mountain road but it’s a short distance race again with sharp turns. Taehyung rolls down the window to find Yoongi already staring him down.

“Race you to the top,” Yoongi mouths and Taehyung smirks.

The flagger flashes his flashlight three times in a row and they take off, engines roaring into the night.