Chapter 1: streetcar
See I know my destination, I'm just not there.
The bar is smack dab in the middle of Gangnam, a modest seventies structure sandwiched between tightly packed luxury high rises. The area is saturated with nightlife options, demands a little more finesse from an establishment than a faux-Western name like Europa and worn leather stools to attract its haughty residents and executives, and yet somehow the place still lives.
Not one for snooty pubs himself, Jeongguk would've never gone inside had it not been for the hiring sign stuck to the window up front one warm summer afternoon, ugly and unceremonious in a way businesses in the area never are-- Hiring ASAP: bartender.
Jeongguk hadn't been looking for a job then, had been heading to the train station after meeting up with his best friend for some bougie performance art show he'd hated, but on impulse had gone inside the shoddy bar and asked about the sign. Fifteen minutes and one poured wine glass later, Jeongguk was employed.
The gig is deceptively simple: work the bar alone four nights a week serving overpriced cocktails and imported wine by the glass to lonely locals looking to spend an evening listening to jazz on a loop.
The first night he worked the floor, he'd been nervous about everything. Worried he'd taken too long to serve that scotch because he'd been looking up the definition of neat (just to be sure), worried he should've tried to make small talk with that gloomy salaryman before he started violently weeping over the counter, worried he shouldn't have served that third glass of wine to the kid whose legal-age birthday it was. Nervous.
But he gets used to it, used to the frustratingly low lighting that has him struggling to read the wine labels and used to the incessant hum of jazz seeping through the bar’s tinny speakers.
That had been June after graduation, which had left Jeongguk strapped for cash, with a diploma he was unenthused about and itching for something to take up the time between submitting lackluster resumes and feeling sorry for himself. He told himself he'd bartend all of June, bulk up his checkings account and then quit to find something better, more permanent.
Find something real.
But time passes and he gets used to it and it becomes easy, and so Jeongguk stays past June, past July, past August and into the fall.
He can feel himself losing his way, a way that had never been particularly clear but certainly doesn't involve mixing cocktails for tips. He doesn't like anything but beer, anyway.
His twenty-second birthday is spent with his best friend at their shared apartment. Jimin had tried to convince him to go out for drinks, but Jeongguk spent a good portion of his time at a bar already and wants absolutely nothing to do with them in his free time, on his birthday. And so they bring drinks to his cramped bedroom, white paint peeling in places and finance textbooks lining the shelves. There's an Iron Man poster taped to the wall above his bed and Jeongguk stares at it as he sips a warm beer, reminding himself to take it down soon.
When the clock strikes midnight and it’s no longer his birthday, Jeongguk cries. Cries about graduation and his bedroom that still looks exactly as it did since sophomore year, about his not-so-temporary job and his apparent inability to quit it. He does that sometimes, shed some tears to blow off steam and drain his anxieties, and Jimin takes it all in stride.
“Well, what do you want to be doing?”
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk demands, brows furrowed, tear tracks drying on his cheeks.
Jimin sits up on Jeongguk's bed and narrows his eyes at his friend, regarding him like someone who's danced his whole life regards someone who never has. “Don't you have something you wish you could do forever?”
Jeongguk balks, shifts uncomfortably in his creaky desk chair. “Forever is a long time.”
Jimin sighs, dropping back against Jeongguk's sunken twin mattress with an arm draped over his eyes. “I give up,” he groans. “What's so bad about the bartending gig then? You’re loaded. Always got way more cash on you than anyone we know. You’re lucky, man.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jeongguk laments, rolling back in the wheeled chair when he kicks his feet. Feeling anything but lucky. “The money’s nice, I know, but I feel like everyone's working towards something and I'm just… I don't know...” he trails off, face pinching like he doesn't know quite how to finish, like he’s about to burst into tears all over again.
His best friend notices immediately, drops his arm to look over at the younger, soft features puckered sympathetically. “Jeonggukie, I know. I understand.” Jeongguk bites his lip, looks over at Jimin like he’s clinging onto his every word. “You're freaking out, that's normal. We just graduated, we’re not supposed to know what we wanna do yet.”
The room goes quiet enough that the squeaky lightbulb in Jeongguk's desk lamp makes itself known, light flickering and threatening to give out. Jimin’s possibly valid point is undermined by the fact that they are both now thinking that he knows, knows exactly what he wants to do for the rest of his life and has known it for a very long time.
Jeon Jeongguk met Park Jimin on their first day at K University, when Jimin was 18, a dance major with a girlfriend in Busan, and Jeongguk was 17 with no major and no girlfriend. Jimin had looked like a friendly face to approach with his sweet eye-smile and cherub cheeks, and when Jeongguk found out they shared a hometown, he'd latched onto him and never let go.
Nothing much has changed four years later, except Jeongguk has a degree in economics and is now the one with a girlfriend.
At least that's what he thinks Lee Jieun wants him to call her. The older girl had approached Jeongguk on the day of their graduation, asked him on a date with flushed cheeks and a sweet smile. Had said they'd taken a photo class together junior year. She’s beautiful, probably the prettiest girl Jeongguk had and has ever seen, and so he said yes to that date and the ones after that, even if he can't exactly say he remembers their first meeting.
Their dates always consist of meals between other commitments, on account of which of them he isn't exactly sure. Jieun works a corporate job at A Big Company that demands much of her time and Jeongguk– Jeongguk doesn't know.
He likes Jieun, finds her beautiful and kind, but in three months of dating they'd kissed only two or three times and hadn't had sex.
They got close to, once. One clammy day in August, Jieun had invited him over to her apartment after their dinner date. They rarely spent time together outside their meal dates but this time when she'd offered Jeongguk hadn't turned her down. They sat on her couch and started watching a movie, and in the middle of it Jieun climbed into Jeongguk’s lap and started kissing him. They’d had wine over dinner and he supposed that's what had emboldened her to do it.
It didn't feel bad, but he still had a vague inkling that having a pretty girl straddle you and make out with your mouth should've felt better than just not bad. He wasn't a virgin, had slept with a handful of people throughout his four years of college, didn't know what was missing now.
Jeongguk had held her in his lap and kissed her back, but after a couple minutes of that Jieun had still crawled back on the couch and stared at him with big, concerned eyes. She didn't ask, but also didn't try to kiss or have sex with him since.
Sometimes Jeongguk wonders if he should break up with her, but then he imagines pretty and kind Jieun crying and vowing to hate him forever and can't bring himself to.
On Tuesday night, it storms. Typhoon season is over, the weather getting drier as it gets colder, and so the rain scares everyone away, keeps people off the streets of Seoul and customers away from the bar.
There’s a regular drinking hot soju quietly in the corner and another guy had come in earlier to do shots, but apart from that the bar is deserted and Jeongguk expects it to remain that way for the whole night.
He doesn't like nights like these, nights where he’s left alone with his thoughts and in his head. He wishes he could replace the perpetual jazz blowing through the speakers with music he likes, something to pass the time until closing, but he doesn't think that’s allowed and doesn't want to risk the owner somehow hearing of it, and so he doesn't.
Instead Jeongguk listens to the patter of the rain, wonders if he should just lock up after the silent regular left. There is no last call, but Jeongguk figures that might happen around three that night. With the weather looking as grim as it does, he decides he will.
It’s nearing two-thirty when the door swings open again.
Jeongguk looks over, sees a tall figure holding the door open for himself as he draws shut a long umbrella outside, the heavy rain still going full blast behind him. The man has hair colored like burnt honey and moves with an air of assurance that commands attention when he steps inside, looking somehow unruffled by the strong wind blowing in.
Jeongguk is immediately entranced.
The stranger is wearing a long black coat, fuzzy wool damp around the bottom from the rain. He props his sleek umbrella against the wall by the door, water dripping from it onto the floor. Jeongguk catches a glimpse of high cheekbones and full lips when the man combs his hair out of his eyes after hanging his coat, and suddenly can't help but think the man is the most beautiful customer to ever walk through that door.
Going back to wiping down the counter, Jeongguk forces himself to look away, to give the newcomer a moment to settle in before he approaches. The man takes the first stool by the door, the unpopular seat at the edge of the bar that always stays empty unless the place is crowded. Like he hasn't fully decided on staying there, like he’s about to leave at any moment.
The man doesn't call for the bartender or wave him over, just sits, pulls out his phone and starts thumbing at the screen.
Jeongguk abandons the damp rag to step over to him, discreetly wiping his hands on his pants as he takes position on the other side of the counter, the bartop between them. Before he can ask the man what he'll have to drink, he tells him:
“A glass of your best Chardonnay, please.”
The man's voice is deep, lower than Jeongguk had expected from a face so delicately pretty. The man isn't looking at him, hasn't once looked up from his phone where it casts a blue-white glow over his perky nose and full lips, and Jeongguk feels a pang as he nods and turns around to fill the order.
Rain pelts steadily on the roof as Jeongguk fetches the most expensive Chardonnay from the wine fridge at the back. When people ask for the best of something they mean the most expensive, Jeongguk figures, although he can't say he's ever received such a request before. He remembers this particular bottle isn't meant to be sold by the glass, but he still brings it out and gets it open, wanting to give the man a wine he is sure to appreciate, the best he can offer.
The customer is still typing on his phone when Jeongguk brings him his glass, and he offers the bartender a quiet thank you when he sets it down in front of him.
Jeongguk waits, lingers, and noticing his presence the man sets his phone down on the bar and produces a handbag from his lap.
Like the umbrella, the clutch is long and sleek, matte black leather that seems to suck in light rather than reflect it, and Jeongguk watches with wide eyes as long fingers peel open the gold latch and fish out a wallet from inside. He hadn't noticed it before, but the customer's nails are painted dark red.
Jeongguk wishes for a credit card, gets a large bill instead, but finally makes eye contact with the man when he lifts his gaze as he hands it over, bill held between two elegant fingers.
His eyes are a deep brown, slightly mismatched with a more pronounced double eyelid on one side, and Jeongguk suddenly feels as if they can read his every thought. He snatches the bill from the customer's fingers, feels the man’s gaze on him as he shuffles back to the register for change, and they meet eyes again when he slides the money over the bar to him.
Jeongguk feels warmth emanate from the stranger's hand when he reaches over and presses fingers over the money, easing it out from under Jeongguk's more pale digits. Despite the nail polish, the man's hands are strong, masculine, wiry veins lining the back of it.
The man is watching him now, Jeongguk realizes with a jolt, and he feels like the guy's about to say something.
The cellphone sitting on the bartop choose that moment to ring, vibrating obnoxiously as the screen lights up with a name spelled out in roman letters. Jeongguk politely slinks away to give the other privacy to take the call.
It starts quietly, the man's voice rumbling softly into the phone as he sips at his drink. Back to wiping the bar counter, Jeongguk steals glances his way and is so wrapped up in trying to figure out whether the beautiful man likes the wine he picked that it takes him a long moment to realize the other is speaking English, the words foreign and mostly indecipherable to him.
Then it gets louder, the man hissing impatiently into the phone, dark brows knit together and blood red fingernails curled around the bottom of the wine glass. Jeongguk's first thought is that the stranger must be married and arguing with his wife, but he's seen those hands and the rings decorating his fingers and none of them are wedding bands.
Jeongguk is still watching from across the bar when the man ends the call, drops his phone on the counter with a loud clatter, looking frustrated. He watches the man pull out his black handbag and shove his phone inside, then fish out some money that he places on the bar before getting up and leaving without a word or glance Jeongguk's way.
The glass of expensive Chardonnay sits there, half full, the wine inside sloshing gently.
On Friday night, Jeongguk meets Jieun for dinner.
They go to an Italian restaurant she likes, one she insists on going to every couple of weeks. Jeongguk thinks it’s overpriced, doesn't particularly care for paying that much for pasta, but he’s never told her that and so they keep going.
"How is the job?"
"Yes, yours," she clarifies patiently, giggling behind her glass of Pinot. Her cheeks are flushed, dark eyelashes fluttering. "It's a job, isn't it? Bartending."
"Yeah, it's a job," Jeongguk agrees, hesitant, pushing around the gnocchi on his plate. "It's going fine."
Jieun nods and accepts it and they go back to eating in silence.
Jeongguk pays for dinner as he always does, and afterwards the two of them walk the short distance to the train station together.
The autumn breeze chills the air, blows in gusts their way, and when he sees Jieun shiver in her sleeveless dress Jeongguk takes off his hoodie and offers it to her. She seems pleased about it, takes it with a sweet smile in thanks, and Jeongguk feels sudden dread that she might try to invite him over to her place again.
He braces himself for it at the train station, but Jieun simply waves him bye and goes her own way, Jeongguk's worn hoodie draped over her narrow shoulders.
He can only feel guilt at the relief that floods through him.
The beautiful man comes in again the following Tuesday, around the same time as their first meeting.
He wears gray from head to toe tonight, a buttoned dark suit jacket over meticulously pressed suit pants. A long wool coat of the same color hangs over his wide shoulders, geometric patterns of black and grays stamped across the length of it and the arms hanging loose at the sides. Like the first time, the man looks sophisticated and expensive, stunning.
His face is flushed, honeyed hair fluffed and mussed from the wind, and he is visibly drunk.
Jeongguk is wiping a damp glass and pretends he isn't watching as the man makes his way over to the same seat by the door. Even several feet away, Jeongguk can smell his perfume when he plops down, musk and velvet, liquid gold. It's sweeter than any men's cologne he's ever smelled, and Jeongguk idly wonders if the man is wearing women's perfume.
When he beckons him over with a curl of a finger, Jeongguk is there in an instant.
“A martini, please– and make it dirty.” His voice is rich, deep, just as Jeongguk remembered it. He briefly imagines what it would sound like wrapped around his name, then quickly pushes the thought aside.
“You want an olive, too?” he asks.
“Yes,” the man chuckles like he's heard a joke, probably can tell Jeongguk has only been bartending for a couple months and no one has ever ordered that before. “An olive, too. Thank you, darling.”
Jeongguk spins away, burning. The man props an elbow over the bar, lays his chin on the palm of a hand, watching the bartender with a languid curl of his lips and looking mildly amused. It makes Jeongguk’s fingers clumsy around the vermouth as he pours the liquor into the mixer, makes him reach for the more expensive vodka option they have, one they are only supposed to pour for extra charge.
“How old are you?” the man suddenly asks from his seat, fingers drumming against his cheek, red polish gone.
“Twenty-two,” Jeongguk sniffs, head down, heart pounding.
The man hums, the quiet sound nearly lost under the soft purr of sax, then giggles like they’re sharing a joke again.
“I remember twenty-two,” he muses, voice lilting from intoxication, the hint of an accent Jeongguk can't immediately place. “My second favorite age.”
“What's the first?”
Jeongguk brings the prepared drink over, sets it down in front of him. “And how old are you now?”
The stranger’s laughter is louder this time, like the joke isn't private at all, the sound so infectious and perfect it has Jeongguk's own lips stretching into a smile even if he doesn't understand what’s so funny, thinks the man might be laughing at him.
His attention is diverted by the call of another customer, an impatient regular who never tips, and Jeongguk mumbles a dutiful excuse me and goes over.
When he returns, the beautiful man is gone. The martini is gone as well, replaced instead by a handful of bills looking like they cover and exceed the price of the drink, the glass, and a hefty tip for Jeongguk.
On top of the money is a white slip, a business card.
Thursday is the first of Jeongguk's days off and the day he gathers enough courage to really inspect the business card left behind by that customer.
He is alone in the living room of his apartment, dancer roommate gone on a date. The television is on because Jeongguk appreciates the noise, but he isn't really watching, hasn't been for hours now. All he can think of is the man who'd come into the bar and taken his martini and left him a business card.
Jeongguk's heart lurches as he sounds the name in his head, assured but soft around the edges, just like the man himself. He opens his mouth and catches himself in the last second before saying it out loud, abruptly clenches his fist, crumbling the card in his hand, embarrassed. What is he doing?
His fist comes apart slowly, the card folded over where it's been crushed but still holding its shape. Jeongguk's palm is pink around it, little indents where the sharp corners of the card bit into his skin. He holds it up closer, inspects the senior buyer - women's on the line of text beneath the name.
Jeongguk doesn't understand it, but knows enough to reason that means the man probably works in women’s fashion somehow. It surprises him because he's never met anyone who worked in a world so elusive, glamorous. Fitting, too, although he might've guessed menswear from the way the man had looked like a million bucks himself.
Jeongguk sniffs, moves on. The next piece of text is neatly printed along the bottom, smaller inky letters that read an address, an address in New York, USA. Jeongguk shuffles uncomfortably, suddenly disquieted.
He considers it and concludes that means the man either works at a company headquartered in America or works in America, is here for vacation or to visit someone. The latter possibility is immediately a troubling one because that means the phone number given next might be useless to him as well– could he even text a foreign number? Jeongguk doesn't know.
He purses his lips, feels the weight of his cellphone heavy where it lays on his lap. He wants to call, assumes he's been invited to, but the stranger had been drunk then and hadn't returned to the bar since. Had left abruptly, too. What if he regretted giving Jeongguk his information?
Jeongguk supposed people as beautiful and assertive as that always have places to be and important people to meet, but that does nothing to quell the anxious twist of his gut. What if Kim Taehyung doesn't want him to text?
But Jeongguk is brave, bold, even. He wants to text and so he will. The message will probably bounce anyway, he tells himself.
He types each digit carefully into his phone, then writes a simple message:
Hey. How's it going?
Delivered 02:32 AM
Who is this?
Received 02:32 AM
The reply comes so immediately Jeongguk first thinks he's imagined it.
Then he reads it and is suddenly nervous, second guessing everything from the text itself to the time he's chosen to send it. He should've left it to a more family-friendly hour, to the afternoon, but he does everything too impulsively and hates himself for it and there’s no turning back now.
Jeon Jeongguk. You'll have your martini dirty, please.
Delivered 02:37 AM
Did I give you my number?
Received 02:39 AM
So he doesn't even remember. Jeongguk feels a twinge of disappointment, but tells himself not to let it take ahold of him. He types a reply with steady fingers.
Yeah. Business card.
Delivered 02:40 AM
Text bubbles come and go at the bottom of the thread, but ten minutes later Jeongguk still hasn't received a reply. Nervous, he types in and sends another text.
This must've looked like a 2 am booty call huh lol
Delivered 02:53 AM
Jeongguk physically cringes at the lol as soon as the delivery tone sounds, regretting adding internet-speak that would betray his age, would make the man remember it and possibly dwell on it for longer than Jeongguk would've liked him to. He doesn't know how old Kim Taehyung is, but it certainly isn't twenty-two. It makes Jeongguk feel less, somehow.
Received 02:54 AM
Holy shit my bad lmao
lol I have a gf
Delivered 02:54 AM
His fingers still a moment too late, the last rushed text popping into the screen before he can think it through. Regret washes over him again and he feels as though he should explain, elaborate because Jieun isn't his girlfriend, not really, but as his fingers type another reply, the man’s response to it suddenly appears on screen and makes him stop.
That's settled, then.
Will you be working the bar tomorrow night? I can drop by, give you your glass back.
Would you like that?
Received 02:55 AM
Jeongguk's ears ring as he types out a reply with sluggish fingers.
Delivered 02:55 AM
See you tomorrow, Jeon Jeongguk.
Received 02:56 AM
Jeongguk sends a goodnight message back, stares at his unresponsive phone until the screen goes black, then puts it away and turns off the blaring television and goes to bed, reeling.
never done this before. feedback greatly appreciated!!
Chapter 2: take me away
It seems you're heaven sent.
It takes Jeongguk a whole night's sleep to realize he’s majorly screwed up.
Kim Taehyung had asked him whether he would be at the bar tomorrow, Friday, tonight, and he'd answered yes when the real answer should've been no. No, he’s off until Sunday so please come again then.
Jeongguk considers messaging the man again to clarify, but just the thought of having to admit to him that he’d been stupid enough to completely forget his work schedule in the heat of the moment makes Jeongguk burn in embarrassment. He doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kim Taehyung.
And so Jeongguk resigns himself to the fact that he'll have to show up at his workplace on his precious day off and somehow make it seem like that’s what he'd intended all along. Considering Taehyung had dropped by the bar relatively late both times he's seen him, Jeongguk figures he will show up rather late tonight as well. Thankfully, he has no other plans that day and so can afford to waste away a couple of hours waiting around for a stranger at the bar. A stranger who, considering his track record, might not even show up.
That night, Jimin walks into the bathroom as Jeongguk fixes his hair in front of the mirror, combing product into his bangs with his fingers. He takes one look at Jeongguk’s button-down and untorn jeans and snickers as he fetches his toothbrush.
“Getting all dolled up for what, Jeon?”
“I'm not getting dolled up,” he mutters, carefully ruffling the part in his hair to make it look more effortless.
“I've never even seen you brush your hair,” Jimin grins as he squirts toothpaste on his brush.
“I brush my hair,” Jeongguk defends, then gets defensive when Jimin arches a disbelieving eyebrow and gives him a look through the mirror. “What? I brush my fucking hair!”
When Jimin laughs, Jeongguk snatches the toothbrush from his hand, drops it into the sink and bursts into laughter himself when that has his friend screeching in protest. He makes quick exit of the bathroom before Jimin can retaliate, bolting to his bedroom across the apartment and shutting the door behind him.
“I hope your Netflix and chill with Jieun blows!” he hears Jimin’s muffled scream. “And not your dick!”
Jeongguk’s smile slips as he turns around, leans back against the door and faces Iron Man above his bed, metal fist poised like he's punching him in the gut.
The bar is unsurprisingly packed when Jeongguk arrives at midnight, the reasonable amount of time he had given himself to wait for the twice-2 AM customer.
There are more people here than he gets on even his most packed Sundays, bodies huddled around the bar and leaning together against the walls. Jeongguk’s never personally been the bar type, much preferred drinking a cold beer comfortably in front of his own TV, but for the first time since he's worked here he thinks this place might not be too bad. The bars he's been to with his classmates are always loud and obnoxious, drunk college kids falling over each other, but there’s none of that happening here.
The first thing Jeongguk does after hanging his hoodie is check the first seat by the door, and when he finds that stool vacant he assumes that the man isn't there yet, that he would've naturally taken his regular seat like people always seem to do.
And so Jeongguk relaxes, lets out the breath he's been holding and saunters over to the bar, running a hand through his hair.
The second bartender at Europa has bright red hair and a beaming smile to match. Jeongguk figures he’s a couple of years older, in his late-twenties perhaps, but age has never come up in their brief conversations and so he doesn't know for sure. Regardless, Jung Hoseok doesn't act like a man any older than him, he thinks, too loud and unconcerned. When the bar owner first introduced them, Jeongguk feared the ever-sunny redhead might give him a headache, but Bartender B had since won him over with his cheerful good humor.
He is also an excellent bartender.
“Jeonggukie!” Hoseok greets him with a Cheshire grin that seems to say Jeongguk’s presence is the best thing to happen to him all night. “Never seen’ya around when you're off! Mix up your days? Today's Friday.”
"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd grab a drink," Jeongguk tells him, the lie automatically rolling off his tongue as he wedges himself in front of the bar.
"Oh yeah? Whatcha doing ‘round these parts? Job interview?" the bartender asks as he comes over, smile unwavering even as he vigorously shakes a cocktail mixer.
Jeongguk’s returning chuckle is sheepish as he silently wonders when he'd told his coworker that he’s looking for another job. He isn't sure, but is strangely happy that the other remembers it. Kind, Jung Hoseok is always kind.
"Nah. I actually have plans to meet someone," he admits, scratching at the back of his neck. "Here. They might not show up, but I'm just gonna sit and wait if you don't mind."
"Ooh, hot date," Hoseok teases, not a question. "Whatcha havin’?"
"A– a dirty martini?"
"Sure thing, coming right up."
Hoseok shoots him a wink before turning away to pour the drink in his shaker and Jeongguk releases a quiet breath, pushing off the counter. He steps back, pops open the top button of his shirt and rolls up his sleeves. The background jazz is significantly drowned out by the chatter of voices and for a second he envies Hoseok for working the fun weekend nights.
It’s from the corner of his eye that Jeongguk sees movement, catches a glimpse of red that for some reason has him glancing over to the tables at the back of the bar, two cramped booths sitting in the dark.
The red turns out to be the man he’s there to meet, Kim Taehyung's sweater where he sits at a table nursing a drink, already looking Jeongguk’s way. They meet eyes and Jeongguk blanches, heart taking off as he walks over.
"Hey,” he breathes out. “You're here."
"I am," Kim Taehyung agrees, smiling against the brim of his wine glass– red, not white today. He motions to the empty seat across from him with an elegant sweep of his fingers and Jeongguk immediately steps over and slides into the booth. "Thought you said you could meet me tonight."
"I could. Can," Jeongguk replies quickly.
"But you're not working?"
"Not tonight, no."
Taehyung doesn't ask anything else, just regards Jeongguk from behind his glass, eyes dark and smile soft. It's the same look he'd given him the last time they'd met.
His knit sweater is a deep red, almost burgundy, and it's a color Jeongguk thinks very well suits his golden skin. His hair falls in brown wisps over his forehead, darker eyebrows peeking through the gaps. Taehyung looks sinful in the low lighting, warm and sultry as he watches Jeongguk.
"Did I hear you say you didn't think I'd show up?" Taehyung asks, tipping the wine glass against already stained lips for a sip.
Jeongguk has a second to feel embarrassed he heard that, curses the place for being so cramped and the music for not drowning his voice and himself for not properly surveying the area when he first stepped in.
"It's not that I thought you'd flake, I just didn't know you'd show for sure," Jeongguk says as an answer, shifting back in his seat and trying not to let Taehyung’s dark gaze make him nervous as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I was hoping you would, but who knows, things happen."
"Dirty martini up!"
He’s thankful for the room to breath, excuses himself and stands. As he's shuffling out of the booth, Taehyung holds out his wine glass, nearly empty but not quite.
"Would you please be a darling and get me a refill?" he sighs, easy smile still on his lips as his head rolls to one side, and Jeongguk wonders whether Taehyung’s already tipsy.
He hesitates as he's reaching out for the glass. "Of what?"
"Can't you tell yourself, bar boy?" Taehyung teases, a challenge in his voice and in his arching eyebrow. Jeongguk would’ve probably taken offense if this were anyone else calling him that and giving him that look, but with Kim Taehyung it feels like a game. And if nothing else, Jeongguk loves games, likes the thrill of a challenge.
He takes the glass from Taehyung, fingers slipping around the very top of the stem, then lifts it to his own mouth. He takes an experimental slow sip of the wine, then promptly knocks back what's left. The flavor is intensely dry and bitter on his tongue and teeth, but Jeongguk knew before he tried that he had no chance of correctly naming what grape that was.
"No, sorry, I can't tell."
Taehyung chuckles, pulls his elbows over the table and folds hands under his chin, looking like he thinks he's won and is pleased by it. "That's alright, bring me whatever you want."
Choosing not to stay hovering indecisively over Taehyung, Jeongguk nods and walks over to the edge of the bar.
Hoseok is waiting for him with his drink, olive sitting at the bottom of the V-shaped glass. Jeongguk thanks him and takes the martini, handing back Taehyung’s empty glass.
"Do you know what he was having?" he asks in a soft voice, sticking his thumb back as discretely as he can to point out their table behind him. He sees Hoseok look past him, eyebrows raising like he hadn't noticed Jeongguk sitting with another man. Might just be acting polite.
"He the person you been waiting to meet?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"Guy's come in a couple times," Hoseok replies, volume thankfully low to match Jeongguk's, turning away and grabbing an open bottle from the counter, bringing it over to pour in the wine. "Lately, though. Never seen him before this month." The bartender’s face suddenly drains of sobriety and he grins at Jeongguk as he hands back the glass, wine refilled up to the top. "Quite the looker, eh?"
Jeongguk glances over his shoulder at Taehyung, spots him scrolling through his phone, white washing over his flushed face. Turning back to Hoseok, Jeongguk takes the wine glass with only a muttered thanks before returning to the table.
Taehyung glances up from his device when Jeongguk takes his seat and sets the wine solidly in front of him. The man’s languid smile returns as he locks his screen and sets down the phone to take the drink, swirling it expertly before taking a sip.
"It's the same wine,” Taehyung notes immediately, gaze flicking up to meet Jeongguk’s. “You asked the bartender what I was having?" Jeongguk waits for disappointment in his voice, sees only amusement when he nods a confirmation. "I told you to choose, sweetie."
"Didn't wanna risk giving you something you didn't like," Jeongguk tells him honestly, lifting his own drink and taking a long sip of liquor. He points at Taehyung’s glass when he sets his down. "You like that one, don't you?"
The other chuckles quietly, seems to make a point of gulping it and filling his cheeks before he swallows with a visible bounce of his Adam's apple.
Taehyung drops back in the booth and Jeongguk sees his gaze fall to his own drink, that passive look of amusement still on his pretty face. If he notices Jeongguk’s drinking the same drink he served him the last time they'd met, Taehyung gives no indication of it.
“I already returned that martini glass I took from you, in case you're wondering," is what the man says after a moment, smile placid as he carefully fingers a strand of hair out of his eye, looking entirely unapologetic about taking it in the first place. Looks soft but still commanding of Jeongguk’s entire attention. "Handed it right back to the other bartender when I came in. Was surprised it wasn't you."
"Yeah, I work Sundays through Wednesdays," Jeongguk replies, draping an arm over the table as he leans in closer, catching a whiff of perfume and needing to close the distance. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I should've warned you. Hope I didn't keep you waiting long."
"That's alright, I quite like this place.” Taehyung looks around the dimly lit bar, all warm wood paneling and framed vintage posters. "Reminds me of home."
"Where's home?" Jeongguk jumps at the question. "New York City?"
Taehyung turns to face him again, smile still there but somehow more hollow. Might be Jeongguk’s imagination, shadows playing tricks on him.
"Yes, New York."
Something twists in Jeongguk’s chest, unbearably tight for a moment before it settles, muted. "Ah." He takes a big gulp of the martini, alcohol burning pleasantly on its way down. "So you're American, then?"
“No, I'm Korean, I was born in Daegu,” Taehyung tells him, polite speech slipping to reveal the accent Jeongguk remembers catching a glimpse of the last time. “Lived in Seoul for a while, moved to New York a couple years ago for work. Well– more than a couple now. Over fifteen years ago.”
Fifteen years sound like a long time to Jeongguk, and again he wonders how old Taehyung is. He wants to ask again but doesn't want to be rude, doesn't want Taehyung to think that makes him less or might deter him.
But deter him from what?
“And, um, how old were you then?” He goes for it.
Taehyung laughs like the first time, but somehow now Jeongguk can tell he’s seen that coming and is ready to tell him. “I'm thirty-five. Thirty-six in December.”
The mental math falls together. The oldest person Jeongguk’s ever gone out with had still only been a couple of years away. He has to remind himself that's not what this is, a date. “Oh. That's cool.”
“That's cool,” Taehyung repeats in a breath, then breaks into a hearty laugh that has his lips stretching into a rectangle, an expression that makes him look Jeongguk’s age even as it reveals faint lines around his eyes. “And you?” he asks once his laughter has subdued to spaced chuckles. “What's your deal? Where are you from?”
Jeongguk wets his lips, still smiling from the sight of the man laughing. “Busan. Came up for college.”
“Ah, Busan boy. Thought I heard an accent,” Taehyung’s eyes still twinkle with amusement as he sips his dark wine.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk’s chest inflates, preening. Feels like Kim Taehyung is flirting with him, finally responding.
“And you have a girlfriend?”
Taehyung phrases it like a question but immediately sips at his wine again like he's not waiting for an answer, doesn't need Jeongguk to clarify or elaborate.
“Jieun,” Jeongguk supplies, hesitating. “We’ve been going out for a couple months.” Taehyung lowers his glass just enough to peer at Jeongguk over the brim, looking somehow more expectant now. “She asked me out after graduation and I said yes.”
The man hums like he understands, lowers his glass and swirls the wine still inside. It's almost all gone. “And you love her?”
“Love– what? No,” Jeongguk sputters, trips over the question before answering confidently. “No, no. We're not there, not like that.”
“Not like that?” Taehyung presses, looking somewhat bemused. “You've been seeing her for how many months?”
“Just a couple,” Jeongguk defends, shrinking back. “Like three?”
“Three months is more than enough time to fall in love,” Taehyung says it with no hesitation, meeting Jeongguk's gaze for an instant when his eyes flick up before he averts them to the crowd of people.
Jeongguk doesn't quite know what to say, feels like he’s dragged Taehyung down a notch as he watches the side of his face and the straight line of his mouth. Everything’s been going so well before this point, but now a different sort of tension sits thick in the air between them. The fourteen seems to whirl its head, crawl over the table between them and makes itself known. He desperately wants to fix it.
“Yeah, well, then maybe she's not the one for me.”
Taehyung looks back at him, assessing him quietly for a moment before his gaze softens. Still, it doesn't feel the same. Jeongguk’s chest feels like it cracks down the middle a little.
“Maybe not.” The man downs the rest of his wine, sets the empty glass on the table with tender fingers. Jeongguk feels it happen in slow motion, hears his own ears ring as he blindly takes a big gulp of his martini. He knows what's coming before he hears the words. “Well. Nice talk, darling, but now I'm gonna have to get going.”
Taehyung stands in one fluid movement and for the first time Jeongguk sees his full outfit, sees he’s wearing a skirt with the red sweater. It's long and black, delicate pleats swishing as he moves to grab a jacket from his seat. Jeongguk has absolutely never seen a man wearing a skirt in real life and the immediate sight of it stuns him for a moment. Taehyung is painfully beautiful, perfect.
“Can I walk you to the station?” he offers and stands as well, nearly knocking into the lamp hanging over the booth.
“Oh.” Taehyung chuckles, drops his head forward a little as he shrugs the lightweight leather jacket over his shoulders, leaving his arms out of the holes. “Oh honey, are all Busan boys this sweet?”
“Nah, just me,” Jeongguk says to ease the tension, bring back their flirty banter from before now that Taehyung seems somewhat receptive again. He grins when Taehyung laughs and steps out of the booth but doesn't turn to leave.
“Alright, you can walk me home.” When Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, Taehyung chuckles and slips his phone into his purse, a strappy thing slung over his shoulder. “I'm staying right down the street.”
Jeongguk tosses back the rest of his martini, steps past Taehyung to get out of the booth himself. With both of them standing, their shoulders brush and he's only slightly surprised to see Taehyung is taller than him. Jeongguk’s used to being the tallest, but everything about Taehyung has been exceptional, extraordinary.
When he makes to close his tab, Jeongguk shakes his head and tells him he’s got it. He doesn't wait to see if Taehyung will try to stop him before he turns, heads back to the bar and shoulders his way between two people at the counter.
Hoseok doesn't say anything when Jeongguk pays for his drink and all of Taehyung’s, but his eyes are twinkling like he's holding back.
After settling their tab, Jeongguk grabs his hoodie and finds Taehyung already outside, lit cigarette held between long fingers. The ember flares orange as he draws on it, eyeing Jeongguk as he approaches.
“Treating me, huh? What a gentleman.”
Smoke sips out from between Taehyung's lips as he speaks and Jeongguk watches as the wind blows it away. Taehyung seems to be watching him as well, takes Jeongguk eyeing his cigarette for interest and slips fingers into his purse to pull out a pack, hold it out to Jeongguk.
Jeongguk pulls out a cigarette and it's the first time he's ever held one. He sticks it between his lips, shoulders tensing when Taehyung steps closer with his skirt swishing around him and brings a lighter up to the end of his face. Jeongguk sucks on the filter between his lips as Taehyung flicks on the lighter, bright flame licking the end of the cigarette. He smells Taehyung’s sweet perfume as his mouth fills with smoke.
He tries hard not to cough, but when the back of his throat burns it's unavoidable and Jeongguk has to step back and pull the cigarette out of his mouth to let it all out. He hears Taehyung giggle, and when he looks over with teary eyes he sees his red and black image swim.
“I don't really smoke,” Jeongguk provides unnecessarily, coughing into a fist.
“I can see that,” Taehyung tells him, not unkindly. “Good. You shouldn't. Bad habit.”
“But you–” More coughing interrupts him as Jeongguk tries to clear his throat.
“I'm full of bad habits,” Taehyung finishes, smile spreading over his lips.
Jeongguk manages to get his coughing under control but refuses to toss the cigarette when Taehyung suggests it. It's an attractive look on him and Jeongguk wants Taehyung to find him attractive, too, not a kid who can't even handle a smoke.
They start walking down the sidewalk to Taehyung’s hotel, cars zooming past them on the street. The cigarette smoke tastes like bitter ash in Jeongguk’s mouth and he has a slight suspicion he isn't smoking it right, but perseveres nonetheless. It's quiet between them but not uncomfortable, and Jeongguk feels Taehyung looking at the side of his face more than once.
The hotel they arrive at is a nice one, taking up an entire block with a curved driveway for vehicle drop-offs at the front. Taehyung stops at the edge of the pedestrian sidewalk before it, plucking the cigarette from his lips as he turns to Jeongguk. The breeze has swept Taehyung's hair into his eyes and Jeongguk curls a fist at his side to resist the urge to reach over and brush it off.
“Here we are,” he smiles, blowing a puff of air at his bangs.
When will I see you again?
“Thanks for showing up tonight,” Jeongguk says, ineloquent and inadequate.
“Sure. Nice meeting you, Jeongguk.”
The deep voice swallows his name, coils around it and grabs ahold of it like a vise, giving it meaning as it snares it and makes it his.
Taehyung shoots Jeongguk one last reticent smile before he spins around, putting out his cigarette on the edge of a building before letting it drop to the pavement as he walks off.
comments always appreciated <3
Chapter 3: loose
Most of time, everything's fine.
Jimin is performing at an art gallery opening in Hongdae the following Thursday.
The gallery is apparently run by someone Jimin knew in college, a guy who he calls “his friend” but Jeongguk assumes is actually an old hook-up since he’s met all of Jimin’s friends and has never even heard of this one.
Second semester of sophomore year, after getting dumped via text by his Busan high school sweetheart, Jimin had gone on an art department dating rampage. Lost his virginity to his longtime girlfriend, rediscovered himself in polygamy. Jeongguk remembers those months vividly, stumbling into beautiful people in his apartment on mornings when he’d rise early for an 8 a.m. or wake up hunched over a textbook in the living room.
This is not Jimin’s first dancing gig since graduation but it is the first time he's performing solo and inviting Jeongguk to come watch, the choreography one he's spent weeks developing and perfecting. Jimin’s beyond excited– “can you believe, Jeonggukie? All those rich people looking at me!” – and Jeongguk agrees that it's an incredible opportunity even if the event doesn't at all sound like something he'd be interested in attending.
There might be a feeling other than being happy for his friend that's brewing under the surface, something twisting and ugly, but if it's there Jeongguk refuses to acknowledge it.
“Is Jieun coming?” Jimin asks as they get ready that evening, him in the shower and Jeongguk a few feet away at the sink.
“I, uh. I didn't invite her,” Jeongguk says around his toothbrush, blue foam gathered at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” The disbelief in the word bounces off the bathroom walls and Jimin practically throws the curtain aside to stick out a wet head. “Why not?”
Jeongguk’s not looking at him, his eyes trained at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. He's sure Jimin must at least have a suspicion of why, wishes his friend could just figure it out and be the one to say it back to him.
“I’ve just been thinking that she might not be the one for me, is all,” he mutters, spitting toothpaste out into the sink.
“Whoa,” Jimin laughs, pushing dark wet hair back from his eyes and flicking water at Jeongguk with his fingers when he still doesn't turn to face him. “Where the hell’s this coming from? She do something to piss you off?”
Jeongguk quickly shakes his head, spits out more foam and turns on the tap to rinse off his toothbrush. This makes him nervous, the questions. “No, she didn't do anything. She's nice.”
“So?” Jimin prods in his most prodding voice.
So Jeongguk doesn't really know. Doesn't know why Jimin and Jieun both don't notice that he doesn't think of her when he waits for sleep to come or receives a text message or scrubs wine glasses dry. Doesn’t look at her like that. Doesn't think of her all the time.
Thinks of someone else sometimes.
But Jimin must assume something from Jeongguk's ensuing silence because he lets out another snicker, shakes his head and pulls the shower curtain closed again.
“Don't sabotage yourself, Guk,” he sighs as he resumes his shower, voice once again echoey in the bathroom, disembodied voice of wisdom. “I know you're having an existential crisis right now and dating might sound like a pain in the ass, but knowing you, you're later gonna regret blowing her off for no reason.”
Jimin’s right, he's always right. Jeongguk knows that Jimin knows him like no one else and knows he tends to push people away, close himself in his room and avoid everyone he cares about when he's feeling down. It's happened before, several times in school, and when Jeongguk’s in that depressive purgatory the only way to pull him out of that mood is to force him out of it.
Jimin might be trying to do that now, he realizes. Force him out of a mood, save him from pushing Jieun away.
Why is it that he thinks he doesn't like her, anyway? She's genuinely kind, brilliant enough to land a stellar job right out of college, probably the most beautiful girl in the room wherever they go. Jeongguk couldn't fuck her and she still didn't dump him, didn't point fingers or demand an explanation or look at him like a he's a twenty-two year old with a flagging dick.
Didn't even force him to try fucking again.
Jieun must really like him, he thinks.
The bathroom is foggy enough now that Jeongguk’s reflection is just a collection of colored blurs in the mirror, and he wipes a hand across the condensation on the glass to clear off his damp reflection. He sees there’s toothpaste drying on his chin and he ducks to scrub it off, rinsing thoroughly to make sure it's clean before setting his brush away.
“Don't run the water so hot, hyung, remember the mold on the wall,” he reminds Jimin before stepping out of the bathroom, crossing the apartment to his room.
Jeongguk invites Jieun to the gallery opening.
The show is on the top floor of a small office-like building, completely inconspicuous as an interesting place from the street.
Inside, the floors are a checkered black and white linoleum that sort of looks like it’s moving if Jeongguk stares at it for too long. Wacky lamps hang from the high ceilings in long cords, low enough that someone slightly taller than Jeongguk might brush them. There are metal sculptures dotting the room, warped metal shapes that could be either art pieces or merely decorative.
Jeongguk expects to see color-splashed canvases and abstract designs displayed, but the gallery turns out to be holding a photography exhibit. There are framed prints of all sizes lining the tall blank walls, some color photography and others black and white, all by different artists.
As soon as they arrive, Jimin disappears past a concealed sliding door in the back to prepare for his performance, leaving Jeongguk alone in the empty room. The party didn't start yet, the only other people in there the waiters prepping the bar tucked in the corner, and Jeongguk figures he might as well kill time by checking out the pictures.
He wanders down one of the walls of photography, inspecting each shot but spending longer on some than others. He stops at a monochrome picture of a naked woman dancing at low shutter speed, the composite capture making it look like she has a dozen arms and legs spurting from her body. Insect-like, sort of grotesque.
“You like this one?”
Jeongguk glances over his shoulder at the unfamiliar voice and finds a tall man in black slacks and a white dress shirt with two buttons undone. His hair is silver and falls over his eye on one side, meticulously styled, the attractive sort of hipster.
“Kim Namjoon,” he introduces, holding out a hand that Jeongguk shakes in slight confusion. Namjoon picks up on it and cracks a smile that reveals deep dimples on both sides. “You're Jeongguk, Jimin’s friend, right? I’m glad you could make it.
“Yeah, sure,” Jeongguk greets back, figuring this has to be Jimin’s secret artist friend who curated the gallery.
He doesn't want to be awkward, but is pretty sure now that this guy has to be an old fuckbuddy of Jimin’s. Namjoon sort of exudes a sexual vibe, holds Jeongguk’s hand firmly a little too long and eyes him with blatant interest.
“You want a drink?” Before Jeongguk can answer Namjoon twists around and waves at the busy waiters at the bar, holding up a finger before he turns back and resumes their conversation as if there'd been no pause. “This was one of the more on the nose interpretations of the theme. Almost didn't make the cut.”
“Oh. What's the theme?” he asks curiously.
“Motion,” Namjoon answers, dimpled smile returning with an additional curl. “Movement, sure, but in every other sense of the word. Mobility, fluidity. Anything that subverts essentialist paradigms.”
Jeongguk’s not entirely sure what Namjoon means but offers a noncommittal hum and nod anyway, making a mental note to tease Jimin later about dating a pretentious art snob. He figures he should've expected a person with this job to talk like this, should expect everyone at this event to act overly high brow and exclusive. Suddenly he's glad he invited Jieun to keep him company, give him a familiar face to talk to.
“So that's why you're having Jimin dance, huh?” Jeongguk skirts around the question he really wants to ask, so give me the scoop on you and my friend.
“Yes, I'm hoping his dance will frame much of what this show’s about,” Namjoon says, then turns to the waiter who comes up to them, a single flute of champagne balanced on a round metal tray. Namjoon takes the drink with a thank you, handing Jeongguk the glass.
“Thanks…” He takes the drink and knocks back some of the sparkly alcohol. “You're not having one?”
“I don't drink.”
“Ah, sober for tonight?”
“For life, more like. I'm sober.”
Jeongguk lowers the champagne and meets Namjoon’s gaze with wide eyes. He's never met anyone their age who doesn't enjoy drinking, let alone who's willing to give up alcohol for good.
“Why?” he blurts out with more disbelief than is probably polite, then rushes to cover a potential gaffe with a joke. “You a recovering alcoholic or something?”
Namjoon smiles his dimpled smile again, crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face the abstract dancer on the wall. “Abstaining keeps me creative. Alcohol was just the vice I was most willing to abstain from.”
Jeongguk can't help but snicker. “Pretty big compromise if you ask me.” Now he's thinking this Kim Namjoon really is a character. Keeps me creative , he said. Jeongguk can't believe there are people who actually speak like that. “Maybe it's okay to just be a little less creative?” he jokes.
Namjoon laughs, dimples caving in deeper, then his smile flattens into a mildly amused line.
“Did you know alcohol’s one of the most overlooked causes of erectile dysfunction?”
Jeongguk nearly chokes on his drink, coughs around it and has to twist away to cover his mouth. When he's finally able to straighten from his hunch, wheezing, Namjoon’s moved on from the insect dancer and is walking to the backstage sliding door.
Leaving Jeongguk with that.
Guests start arriving a little while later, mostly older people in extravagant clothes. Shiny watches and tailored blazers, cocktail dresses and long mink coats. Men and women smelling strongly of perfume, a cacophony of designer fragrances that give Jeongguk a mild headache. They all speak in politely hushed tones, standing around the gallery in packs of three that occasionally switch around. The voices are muted for the most part, just a hum of noise in the background, but sometimes a disingenuous laugh will break through. Jeongguk feels more like he's at a networking event than a gallery visit.
He heeded Jimin’s warning and dressed up as much as he ever does, navy button-down tucked into untorn black jeans and a leather belt, but he knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in the sea of affluence. He’s silently thankful that Jimin had at least forced him to wear black Oxfords instead of his usual Timbs.
Those might've gotten a few additional stares.
Jeongguk’s in a corner reading an artist bio under a picture when he's tapped on the shoulder. It's Jieun, wearing a black chiffon dress with a red flower print, short in the front and long in the back, red lipstick to match.
Most beautiful girl in the room? Probably. Has to be.
“This is a nice event,” she greets, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear with one of her sweet smiles. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Sure. Thanks for coming,” Jeongguk replies, smiling, too. Jieun looks hot and he waits for his heart to start beating faster.
It doesn't, so he turns to face the picture again.
The photograph he's eyeing shows an elderly lady on a park bench flanked by two girls in high school uniforms, both looking down at their phones as the woman stares straight at the camera, cane held in one hand. Jeongguk stares into her still eyes and tries to figure out how she fits into the theme of motion. A comment on ageing, maybe?
“This reminds me of that class we had together,” Jieun speaks up after a moment of silence. “Looking at photographs like this.”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, sipping his champagne, holding the lady’s gaze.
“This one is really bright, isn't it? That's a… What's that camera setting for brightness again?”
“ISO,” he thinks she means. Photography 101, even though he doesn't think this photo looks particularly exposed. “High ISO.”
“Yes, that's right. I-S-O.” He can hear Jieun smiling. “You always were the best in that class.”
“Nah,” he chuckles, sheepish, turns to glance at her and sees a waiter walking their way. He snags a glass from the champagne tray, holds it out to Jieun. She thanks him with a small smile as she accepts the drink.
“Do you still take pictures?” she asks. “You used to take the prettiest pictures in that class. The professor always praised you.”
“Ah,” Jeongguk laughs again, embarrassed, shakes his head. “Nah, that was just for that class. I haven't really taken photos of anything since then. I'm really not that good at it.”
“Aw, that's a shame,” she mumbles, sipping her drink. “I thought you were good."
Jeongguk hasn't thought of that photography intro class in a long time. First semester of junior year, it'd been one of the few classes he'd taken that didn't fall under his Econ requirements, a full credit class meant to be an easy A and give him time to focus on his difficult business school cores. Despite what Jieun thinks, Jeongguk hadn't taken it seriously at the time, had mostly taken pictures of his friends and teammates for the assignments in a single day. Shot everything in film and attributed the good results to that.
When he finished the semester with a perfect score, Jeongguk had taken it as validation that the class was an Easy A.
Not anything else.
The dimming of the lights pulls him from his reverie, and he and Jieun turn around to see the guests flock to the short platform in the middle of the room, gathering around it.
Jeongguk takes a long sip of his champagne as he follows, stopping at the edge of the group and using his height advantage over most to watch over heads and shoulders. There's a beacon of yellow light lighting the dancer already in position, staring down at his own feet and completely bare save for flesh-toned spandex shorts.
It's Jimin, Jeongguk could recognize his friend’s half-naked body anywhere, but when he knocks his head back and sticks up his chin, his bright red lips match Jieun’s. Jeongguk’s mouth drops open, he's never seen Jimin in lipstick before, how come he didn't mention he'd be wearing girl’s makeup for this, but he has no time to think before the dance begins.
There’s no accompanying music, but Jimin slides his feet apart and moves to some unknown beat, stretching his body one way before doing a sudden twirl and leaning to the other, arms outstretched. He then drops back as if trusting invisible arms, then catches himself before he can fall and rights his body, dipping to the floor in a fluid motion. He rocks on his heels and curls arms around his knees before quickly rocking down into in a push up.
It's an odd dance and stranger still with no music, just the sound of Jimin’s feet on the wood platform, but Jimin moves like water and all eyes in the room appear to be on him.
Jeongguk hears the click of a phone unlocking right beside him and looks down to find that Jieun’s standing at his side, too short to look over people's heads like he is. She's not watching, is typing a message to someone on Line, and Jeongguk looks away, put off.
On stage, Jimin's dance picks up speed, his friend leaping gracefully to one side of the stage before landing solidly on a bent knee, both dainty and strong on his feet. He hops up and lifts a leg, holding it up at a near-vertical axis in an impressive display of flexibility. He holds, then swings his leg down and stands straight, puffing out his chest and swinging his arms back behind himself.
Jimin’s heavy breathing every time he holds a form for a moment is the only sound Jeongguk can focus on along with the occasional tap tap of Jieun’s fingernails on her phone screen. An old lady in a hat standing in front of them looks over her shoulder, eyes flickering down to Jieun and her phone before they rise to meet Jeongguk’s, where they linger for a solid second before the woman turns back to watch the show.
Jimin’s eyes are closed and he isn't smiling as he dances but Jeongguk can see the elation on his face anyway, face of someone who's getting to do what he loves most.
Jieun doesn't look up once.
When it's over, Jimin bows at the waist with curved eyes and a wide smile, the couple dozen people in the room clapping in polite enthusiasm. Jieun finally slips her phone back into her purse, starts clapping alongside the audience.
For some reason, this is what annoys Jeongguk the most.
“Everything okay, noona?” he asks her once the crowd disperses, Jimin disappearing somewhere again. “You were on your phone…”
“Oh, yeah, everything’s alright, I just got a text from my manager...” Jieun looks genuinely embarrassed at having been caught, doesn't look at Jeongguk as she talks. “He gets upset if I don't answer quickly.”
“But you're off the clock right now, aren't you?” Jeongguk insists, furrowing his brows. He doesn't know what’s he’s waiting to hear, maybe an apology, just knows he isn't satisfied with what she's giving him.
Thinks it sounds like a lame excuse.
“No. You're never, really,” Jieun replies with a shrug and turns to face the wall. Doesn't elaborate, like there's no use discussing work business with someone who wouldn't understand.
Real career problems, you wouldn't know.
Jeongguk bites his tongue, drains his drink.
It's tense between the two of them after that, the chatter of the other guests filling the silence as they both grow intensely interested in the pictures on the walls. Jieun tries asking Jeongguk about his day once, but all he provides is a curt fine , arms only briefly uncrossing to trade in his empty champagne for a new glass from a passing waiter.
Jimin joins them some twenty minutes later, coming up beside Jeongguk as he and Jieun silently appraise a large print of a salaryman sprawled on a busy sidewalk as pedestrian legs step around him like he's not there. Motion and non-motion, moving ahead and staying in place.
“Hello friends!” Jimin’s dressed in black pants and a brown sweater and still has the brightest grin on his face. The lipstick is gone but Jeongguk can see a faint trace of the shade on his lips.
“That was an amazing dance, Jimin-ah,” Jieun congratulates immediately, smile on her face. “You really did so well, congratulations.”
It's the first thing she says in ten minutes and it has that annoyance flaring in Jeongguk again. A few glasses of champagne ago, he would've probably let it go.
Now, he can't stand hearing it.
“But you weren't really watching, noona. You were texting on your phone.”
Jeongguk sees Jieun and Jimin both freeze and slowly turn to look at him, sees their smiles get a little wider and harden the way smiles tend to when someone says something they shouldn't. Jieun’s disappears entirely after a second.
“What?” comes Jimin’s chuckled ask, sounding like he thinks Jeongguk’s trying to make a joke.
Jeongguk suddenly regrets having said anything, doesn't like the way the tension between him and Jieun’s now expanded to encompass his friend, too.
The tension in him exploding outwards.
“Nothing, hyung. Never mind,” he mutters, sighing quietly. Can't bring himself to look at Jieun stiff at his side or even at Jimin, who he can tell is now looking past him at her.
Jeongguk isn't looking, but still sees the moment Jimin processes the words and gets hurt by them. His smile fades completely and his shoulders sag an inch. Jeongguk regrets having opened his mouth.
He whirls around and gets away from it, breezing past wafts of pungent perfume and setting down his empty glass on the base of a sculpture as he strides past it on the way to the door. It wobbles unsteadily and falls, shattering on the black and white tile behind him.
He doesn't stop.
“Jeongguk?” he hears a familiar voice call. Kim Namjoon, third person he'd offended that night.
Jeongguk doesn't look back, exits, walks straight to a cab dropping off a couple and gives the address of where he wants to be.
When he arrives, Jeongguk briefly worries he might be hallucinating when he steps into the bar and spots the back of a head of messy brown hair at the first seat by the door.
Then suddenly that head is turning around and Kim Taehyung is looking back at him, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze like he’d been waiting for him all night.
There's no free seat beside him but Jeongguk walks to Taehyung anyway, smiles back when he smiles at him. Neither a big smile but they don't have to be.
“You really like this bar a lot, don't you?” Jeongguk jokes lightly, wedging himself between Taehyung and another man in the seat beside him.
Taehyung laughs and Jeongguk’s heart flutters, feels like it floats loose in his ribcage.
“You must love it, too, coming over when you're not working,” Taehyung teases back, leaning forward against the counter with an elbow folded over it, hand sliding around his cheek to hold it as he looks up at Jeongguk. The tops of his cheeks are flushed with alcohol, maybe makeup, and his lips are tinged dark red on the inside from the red wine he's drinking.
Jeongguk’s never been tipsy around this guy before and it makes it harder to not imagine sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him into a kiss.
He's almost certain Taehyung wouldn't push him away if he did.
“Maybe I'm just here for the eye candy,” he replies, dropping a hand to the backrest of Taehyung's chair and feeling a jolt of electricity when Taehyung seems to curve towards him in response.
“Jeongguk!” Hoseok greets him cheerfully, furiously shaking a cocktail mixer with his trademark grin. “What’cha having, my man?"
“Whatever my friend here’s having, hyung, thanks.”
Hoseok’s smile widens and he gives Jeongguk a wink before spinning off to comply. Taehyung leans all the way back in his seat so his back meets Jeongguk's arm, soft hair brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow.
“You look so handsome tonight. Been anywhere interesting?” Taehyung asks, pink tongue wetting stained lips, and suddenly the easy confidence and endorphins slide away to remind Jeongguk of why he's here.
“Yeah. I was at– at a gallery opening,” he tells him, doesn't know why he tells him.
“Mhm. Were you with your girlfriend?” Taehyung murmurs, deep voice knowing and amused.
“Yeah I was. Yeah,” Jeongguk's confirms, lets him prod him.
“But you're not together anymore.”
“You're not with her right now,” Taehyung points out, lifting his wine to his mouth, the long sleeve of his shirt sliding down his slender forearm and pooling around his elbow. The fabric catches in the low light, glistening like glossy satin.
“No, I'm not,” Jeongguk confirms absentmindedly, eyeing the dark blue silk of the shirt, top buttons undone to reveal smooth collarbones.
“So? Why not?”
“Our finest Pinot,” Hoseok presents when he materializes on the other side of the counter, setting the wine glass in front of Jeongguk. “Enjoy it, on the house.”
Jeongguk offers Hoseok a vehement thank you, raises his drink in a salute as the bartender leaves them. Taehyung's sipping at his own drink and eyeing him with somewhat expectant eyes, more emotion than he had betrayed the last time they'd met and the girlfriend topic emerged.
Jeongguk thinks Taehyung might be as happy to see him as he is.
He asks what's on his mind. “Are you wearing pajamas?”
Taehyung bursts out laughing, lips stretching into a boxy grin that shows off white teeth and turns his eyes puffy. “No,” he chuckles deeply, like he's never heard a crazier idea. “This is expensive Chinese silk.”
Jeongguk sips his wine briefly before pulling his hand back from Taehyung's chair, reaching for his chest and pinching the loose fabric of his shirt between two fingers. Taehyung seems surprised by the action but doesn't shy away from the proximity, straightens his back and tilts his chin back to let Jeongguk feel the front of his shirt.
Jeongguk rolls the silk between his fingers, the delicate fabric warm from the contact to Taehyung's skin. He could tear it open easily, he's pretty sure, and Taehyung looks up at him with amused hooded eyes that suggest his mind is there, too.
“Do you like it?” Taehyung asks with his boxy grin, lips shut this time in more subdued amusement.
“Yeah, I like it,” Jeongguk answers, rolling the silk once more before he releases it, knuckle lightly brushing over the flat of Taehyung's chest when he distractedly goes to smooth it down. The angle of Taehyung's head back makes it obvious when the elder swallows thickly, throat bobbing slowly, chest rising beneath Jeongguk's touch.
Taehyung asks it like a challenge. “I have some more in the hotel. Would you like to take a look?”
thank you to everyone who's left comments and kudos <3
Chapter 4: chevalier
And I remember how the cloth hung.
They walk shoulder-to-shoulder in silence, Jeongguk on the outside of the sidewalk as cars whizz by on the street. Taehyung has a familiar jacket draped over his shoulders, loose arm of leather brushing over Jeongguk's bare forearm.
When they step into the elevator, golden metal doors sliding solidly shut behind them, Taehyung drops back against a wall and Jeongguk follows like there's a string connecting them. He steps in close, crowds into the other's space, and all Taehyung does is tip his head to the side, red lips parting as he eyes Jeongguk, soothing saxophone blowing in the background.
Jeongguk realizes Taehyung isn't taller than him anymore, their noses almost brushing. Jeongguk's breathing picks up, chest rising and falling, and he wonders if the man can hear him pant like he hears it in his head.
Neither have moved by the time the elevator doors ding and open.
Taehyung pushes against Jeongguk's shoulder to brush past, the younger turning and following him down a hall of dim light and maroon carpeting, identical brown doors with golden knobs on either side. When Taehyung stops in front of a door on the far end and rummages through a handbag, Jeongguk catches a whiff of his perfume.
It reminds him of the event he was just at, glass shattering behind him as flees a room full of people who smelled and dressed like Kim Taehyung.
What would Taehyung have thought if he'd seen him storm out like that? Would he have followed?
Would he just have been someone else in Jeongguk's path of destruction?
The door opens and Jeongguk follows Taehyung in with a mind adrift.
“Ah, excuse the mess. You don't mind, do you?” Taehyung asks it like Jeongguk has no choice but not to mind, not that he does as he steps over a pair of black strappy heels to push off his shoes by the door. The heels are big, too big to fit a woman.
“No, I don't mind.”
Taehyung hums, breezing into the room, but Jeongguk's attention has turned to the suite, the biggest and nicest he's ever been in. It's decorated like a modern studio apartment, kitchenette decked out in stainless steel, round dining table, sleek Nordic sofa and TV in the living space. Frosted glass sliding doors lead to a separate enclosure, big bed against floor-to-ceiling windows, Gangnam sprawled before them.
What keeps the scene from looking straight out of a magazine is the clothes. Clothes everywhere, littered over the carpet floors and scattered over the furniture, a pile as tall as a toddler sitting on one end of the couch. Jeongguk's never seen anything like it. Like an exploded department store, all different colors and textures.
For some reason, it makes him smile, boiling heat tapering into gentle warmth. He briefly wonders what Taehyung's bedroom in New York might look like.
“Are these for your job?” he asks, picking up a brown felt beret from the kitchen bar, turning it around in his hands before trying the hat on.
“Oh no, this is all mine,” Taehyung says with an audible grin, row of white teeth on display when Jeongguk looks at him across the room. His brown hair is windblown from the walk to the hotel, blue silk sagging open at the top of his chest as he toes off black fuzzy slippers.
Not taller than Jeongguk in those. What was he wearing before?
“That looks cute on you.”
Jeongguk blinks in momentary confusion, then scrambles to tug off the beret, smoothing back his hair and pretending he can't feel the heat on his face. He turns away, sets the hat back where he found it and carefully avoids stepping on colorful piles as he makes his way over to the white sofa, sinking down on the clear end.
It doesn't look soft but it is, cushions sinking under his weight, and Jeongguk drapes an arm over the top of the seat and drops his head back against the wall behind him, relaxing. Listening to the hum of the AC and movement around the room, breaths slower but still audible to him. He's in a man's hotel room.
Jeongguk cracks an eye open and rolls his head to the side to look up at the nudge to his leg. Taehyung's standing right there in front of him, tall and slender in the matching silk shirt and loose pants, leather jacket gone.
That pretty face angled down to look at Jeongguk, plump upper lip sticking out a little and one eyelid more hooded than the other. Ridiculously beautiful.
The heat returns.
“You sure those aren't pajamas?” Jeongguk teases, arching an eyebrow with a lazy smile, urge to bully coming out of nowhere. Tongue loose when he's tipsy. Mean drunk, Jimin tells him.
Taehyung doesn't seem to mind. “Yes,” he grins. Smiling more than Jeongguk's ever seen him smile. Not the wine because he's seen Taehyung drunk before. Something else.
Bubble of excitement Jeongguk thinks he also feels.
Taehyung sinks closer, suddenly bracing one knee on the sofa between Jeongguk's spread legs and grabbing the back of the couch when he dips in. His perfume is all over him again, cloud thick and sweet.
Jeongguk's lips part and he tips his head back, holds his breath, thinks Taehyung's about to close the distance and kiss him, realization speeding up his breathing.
“Jeongguk,” Taehyung rumbles, raising goosebumps on Jeongguk's arms with how he makes the name sound, deep and alluring. He's so close, soft voice like a vibration in Jeongguk's chest. “I brought you here to show you the other Charmeuse, remember?”
Jeongguk doesn't know what he just said but nods anyway, wetting his lips. Wants Taehyung to kiss him so bad his whole body aches for it.
“So stand up, darling.”
Jeongguk does, immediately, pushing up and watching as Taehyung moves back in tandem, like it's an elaborate dance and they both know the moves. Jeongguk feels out of the loop, like he doesn't know what they're doing and where this is taking them, but when they're both standing again he swings his hand over and grabs Taehyung's hip.
Taking what he wants and asking permission all in one, hand curling over slippery silk and feeling the heat of Taehyung's skin through the thin material. Taehyung is skinny, curve of his hipbone fitting nicely in Jeongguk's palm when he clamps around it.
A hand suddenly curls around the bottom of Jeongguk's arm, Taehyung's palm and fingers warm as they touch him, ease his arm back until Jeongguk isn't touching him anymore.
“I really want to show you something,” Taehyung murmurs, sincere, and all Jeongguk can do is nod again, try not to reach out for another feel of him.
Taehyung moves back and the scent and heat of him are gone. He waltzes across the room to the doors leading to the bedroom nook and Jeongguk watches on, helpless, hand curling into a fist in a feeble attempt to hold onto the warmth of Taehyung's body.
Wants to touch so bad he feels it stir in the pit of his belly, suddenly aware of all the months it's been since he's bedded someone.
Taehyung grabs something in the bedroom, a clothing rack he slowly wheels out, walking backwards to bring it into the living room. Jeongguk stands and watches on.
There are only a few items hanging from the metal rack, all long pieces of fabric, shades of dark blue and deep green and rusty orange swaying gently in place as they're moved, a delicate luster under the yellow glow of the lamp lights.
“Expensive Chinese silk?” Jeongguk guesses after a second, remembering. Taehyung stops walking and stays at the end of the rack, nodding with a hand poised over the top rod. Like he's safeguarding it, like it's important. “Can I see it?” Jeongguk amends.
“Please,” Taehyung whispers, smile small and fragile.
Jeongguk steps over and picks up one of the hangers to pull out a piece, a rich, forest green long dress. It shifts delicately as he moves it, and with his free hand he runs fingers down the length of it, silk cool and smooth like water. His fingers find a slit discretely parting the fabric at the front, which turns out to be the back of the dress. Jeongguk thinks it's pretty, replaces it on the rack to grab another.
It's a red blouse, thin spaghetti straps holding up the gentle folds of fabric. Sexy, like elevated lingerie.
He puts it back and takes another, silk a dark mustard color, a buttoned shirt not too different from what Taehyung's wearing, sleeves long and bell-shaped at the bottom.
“Are these for your work?” he asks, turning his head to face him.
Taehyung's eyes seem to brighten, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes.”
Jeongguk looks back at the yellow shirt and lifts it higher, gently peeling open one side of the fabric, no visible stitchings hindering the smooth flow of the silk. “Is this why you're here? Choose clothes to bring back to New York?” Another guess.
“...yes.” There's some hesitation before the answer and Jeongguk looks over again, eyebrow raised in question. “I'm on vacation right now, technically,” Taehyung elaborates, chuckle sheepish. “Nobody back home knows I'm here for this.”
That's new information, and Jeongguk latches on, wants to know more.
There's another brief pause before Taehyung speaks again.
“Do you know what I do?”
Jeongguk crinkles his nose, turns back to face the silk shirt. He looked it up, read multiple special interest articles on the job title on Kim Taehyung's crumpled business card, but doesn't want that to be too obvious, pathetic. “You choose clothes for a store to sell?”
Taehyung smiles, looking pleased, and Jeongguk figures he can't tell. “I only buy womenswear, but these, I had a greater plan for these,” the man says.
Jeongguk carefully places the shirt back on the rack with the others, glancing down at the blue iteration hanging over Taehyung's body, loose-fitting and yet moulding itself perfectly to the contours of his shoulders. Guesses:
“You were gonna have them sell them to both men and women?”
Taehyung's hooded eyes widen slightly in surprise, hand slipping from the top of the rack to the end of a hanger. He isn't looking at Jeongguk, but the younger swears he sees the pink on his cheek flush further. For a second, Jeongguk finds it hard to believe his own eyes, the vulnerable expression unlike any he's seen Taehyung wear so far, nothing like the confidence he's exuded in all their encounters.
Seems to pride himself in his work, Jeongguk evaluates. Gets shy about it, and yet here he is, showing it to a lame stranger.
“Yes,” Taehyung answers, thumb swiping across an edge of jet black silk. Jeongguk catches a glimpse of pink tongue when Taehyung wets his lips. He looks so nervous all of a sudden Jeongguk finds another impossible guess on the tip of his tongue.
“Am I the first person to see it?” he asks.
Taehyung answers very quietly.
“Yes, you're the first.”
Something like pride explodes in Jeongguk, warmth that has both nothing and everything to do with the lust that brought him into this situation, in a stranger’s hotel room after a party straight out of his nightmares.
Could it be that Taehyung's been thinking of Jeongguk like Jeongguk's been thinking of him?
“Why are you showing this to me?” The blunt question slips past Jeongguk's lips before he can weigh in his words, alcohol buzzing through his system chipping at his brain-to-mouth filter. Never mind boundaries, never mind how words might be taken, never mind that Taehyung already looks smaller than usual.
Taehyung doesn't reply, hand dropping away from the clothing hanger as he draws back and away. Jeongguk turns to look at him, hand itching to reach out and grab his wrist but he holds back. Taehyung's face is back to the perfect mask Jeongguk found so mystifying and hard to read back at the bar, window to his true feelings sliding back shut.
Listless, Jeongguk watches as Taehyung steps over to the desk to grab his handbag, pushing aside the flap and coming back with his pack and a lighter.
Rude, rude question. Tried to act flirty but ended up offending Taehyung. Mean, tactless.
Jimin is always right.
“I just wanted someone to show it to, I guess.”
The answer cuts off Jeongguk's apology and isn't what he wanted to hear. He tries not to let it disappoint him, though, nods in understanding and steps around the clothing rack of silk to continue into the bedroom, get away from the cloud of tension he's just created.
He tries to figure out what was wrong with his question as he crosses the room to the big windows at the end but comes back empty. He doesn't know Taehyung well enough to know why he'd offended him.
Hardly knows him at all.
They are on a high floor, twenty-something, eye to eye with Gangnam's many skyscrapers. The buildings sit dark against the cloudy night sky, fluorescent lights glowing through office windows close and far. The view from up here is completely different from the street view below, a different city. Less frightening from above, like he's actually a match for Seoul, like he belongs in it. He's never liked the look of high rises, much less what they represent, but he figures they aren't so bad from the inside.
Jeongguk wonders if this is what New York City feels like. If Taehyung feels like he belongs to it.
So much he wants to know.
There are light footsteps behind him and then a hand, a wide palm sliding up the top of Jeongguk's back to settle over the curve of his shoulder. Jeongguk straightens his back at the sudden touch, warmth from the hand seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He can see Taehyung's reflection on the glass of the window, standing behind Jeongguk, backlit by the yellow glow of hotel lamps.
“There's another reason why,” Taehyung murmurs, orange ember flaring on the window in front of Jeongguk when the man brings the lit cigarette to his mouth. Jeongguk thinks he can feel the heat of the burn on the back of his neck.
“Why what?” he asks, heart pounding, staying absolutely still out of fear that the hand on his shoulder will slip away if he doesn’t.
“Why I invited you to see.”
“Oh.” He swallows. “What's that?”
The hand on his shoulder slips down the side, fingers curled around Jeongguk's bicep and tracing it through his shirt as they trail down to the rolled up fabric bunched around his elbow. Smoke billows out around them, tickling the back of Jeongguk's throat. He's hyperaware of the touch, hyperaware of his chest rising and falling beside it as Taehyung's long fingers travel back up his arm and stop just shy of his nipple. Touching his arm, touching him.
“Your body, you’re pretty big,” Taehyung says and Jeongguk furrows his brows in confusion at his tone, like there's more to it than just that, twists around to look at the other. “Strong, that is,” Taehyung continues. “I'm not exactly– well.”
There's a gently smoking cigarette stuck between Taehyung's lips when he smiles, releasing Jeongguk's arm to hold up his own, silk sleeve slipping down his slender forearm as if to prove that he lacks the sinewy muscle on Jeongguk.
As if Jeongguk hadn't already committed to memory the shape of Taehyung's body, tall and lean like a runway model.
“I wanted to see what you'd look like in it.”
Taehyung plucks the cigarette from his lips, thin gust of smoke filtering out through the corner of his mouth.
“It's one thing to pull off clothing when you have no shape, another when you do. I want to make sure this would look good on a man who looks like you,” he explains.
“Oh.” Jeongguk's mind is spinning, the request like nothing he had in mind. This was the reason? This is why Taehyung wanted him in his room?
Jeongguk's thinking, some automatic response inside him saying no but brain trying to override it. Taehyung wants to dress him up in delicate, pretty silk, see what his clothes look like on Jeongguk's body. Jeongguk knows he looks good, spends hours at the gym whenever he can to make sure he does. What would he look like in something other than cotton t-shirts and worn sweatpants?
Maybe he'd look incredible. Maybe Kim Taehyung would finally take notice.
“Will you do it?”
There's no more time to think, but what does he need to think for?
Taehyung's eyes brighten again, whatever angst he felt over Jeongguk’s rude prodding seeming to dissipate entirely. Jeongguk wonders if he had expected him to turn down the request, if Taehyung can read him that well.
“Okay?” he breathes.
“Okay,” Jeongguk repeats, and when Taehyung starts to grin the corners of his own mouth stretch into a smile to reflect it.
“Oh, that's great! You're so sweet,” Taehyung slips his cigarette back between his smiling lips, slapping a hand over Jeongguk's cheek and squeezing the lobe of his ear with long fingers. Jeongguk leans away from the touch instinctively, automatic response to being babied, but Taehyung laughs like he'd expected that, lightly flicking Jeongguk’s earring before pulling away.
He walks back to the living room to stand in front of the clothing rack, browsing through the pieces with one hand, the other settling over his hip.
Jeongguk watches him from the window and is suddenly hit by how picturesque the scene is. Cigarette swirling smoke around him, provocative curve of his spine, elegant hand at his hip as he gets lost in thought, Kim Taehyung is beautiful. Like a vintage French film, old record player sounding in the background.
Taehyung is beautiful, and Jeongguk wants to take his picture. Figure him in a scene, dress him up– down– and have him pose for his camera.
He blinks, wide eyed and startled, surprised at where his mind just was.
“Would you put this one on?”
Taehyung pulls a hanger out from between the folds of fabric, bright red silk blouse spilling downwards. It has small buttons around the v-shaped collar, the rest just a single unobstructed cut of luminous fabric. It's just a long-sleeved shirt, not a dress or a skirt or anything too outrageous, and Jeongguk briefly wonders if Taehyung is trying not to scare him off.
“Yeah, okay,” he nods, walking over slowly and taking the hanger from Taehyung, lingering before him.
Taehyung's watching him with an excited glint to his eye, plucking the cigarette from his lips between two fingers and blowing the smoke to the side.
Jeongguk stays close as he lifts his hand to the front of his navy shirt, popping open the top button before slowly moving to the next, undressing in front of Taehyung.
The elder is the one to turn away first, spinning around to step over to his purse and pull out his phone.
Jeongguk does turn away then, sweeps his gaze over the room before moving to stand at the side of the bed, tossing the silk blouse to the edge. He quickly unbuttons the rest of his shirt, frosted glass doors parted behind him, straight shot to Taehyung across the room.
When he peels the button-down off, tosses it on the bed and stands bare-chested, Jeongguk risks a glance back over his shoulder. Taehyung's watching him, phone in his hand but eyes on Jeongguk. He holds his cigarette in the V of his fingers and takes a drag, orange flaming and smoke filtering out of his nose when he speaks.
“Putting it on, darling?”
Jeongguk twists back around to tug the red shirt off its hanger. It comes off easy, spilling around his hand like solid water, and Jeongguk feels a little unfit as he tries to hold it out and figure the best way to get it on.
“Need some help?”
Taehyung's offer comes from across the room and Jeongguk scoffs only because it sounds like he's just joking.
“You know, if you expect guys to actually wear this you should consider what's difficult for us,” Jeongguk teases back, arching a brow and glancing back at Taehyung to shoot him a cheeky grin.
“You say that like I'm not a guy, too,” Taehyung accuses, pointing his cigarette out at Jeongguk as he steps over a pile on the floor to drop to the couch. Keeping up with Jeongguk’s teasing banter like it's second nature to him.
“I am a guy,” Taehyung laughs, exasperated, like this is something he's actually had to seriously clarify before.
“Sure, yeah, but not a bro guy,” Jeongguk insists with a grin, enjoying this too much, turning around the whole way to face the living room with arms crossed, silk caught between them. That has Taehyung laughing, sound not particularly dainty or elegant, boyish even. Jeongguk is grinning so hard.
“I don't think bro guys are our target market, darling,” he says between chuckles, dropping his head back against the wall to take a drag of his cigarette.
“Then why am I being targeted right now?”
It's only when he says it that Jeongguk connects the dots. Why does Taehyung need to see someone with thick arms in his unisex clothes again?
Taehyung lowers his head and looks at Jeongguk from the corner of his eye like he senses where his train of thought has led him, like he's only mildly perturbed that Jeongguk might be figuring out that this isn't actually beneficial to him.
Figuring out that this isn't work-related to Taehyung, that it doesn't make sense.
Figuring out that Taehyung might just be trying to see Jeongguk in the clothes he likes.
“Put it on, Jeongguk,” he whispers.
Jeongguk’s heart is racing and instead he takes a step towards the living room, towards Taehyung. His arms uncross, hand closing tight around the silk shirt as he strides over and closes the distance. He sees Taehyung's hand reaching up, towards him, landing on his arm and sliding up into the back of Jeongguk's hair when he lowers a knee to the couch, leans down to meet him.
The doorbell rings.
Taehyung stiffens immediately, stops Jeongguk as he's about to kiss him, pushes him away with a hand on his chest. Jeongguk staggers back in a daze, watches cluelessly as Taehyung stands up and breezes past him to get to the door, smoke trailing after him.
Taehyung looks through the peephole, peeling away with a curse after a second. Looks back at Jeongguk, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for a long moment.
There's something wrong.
Jeongguk's bare chest rises and falls in quiet, shallow pants. They were this close to kissing a second ago, but now he feels as if Taehyung's staring at him like he doesn't know what he's doing there.
Taehyung opens the door.
“Why are you here?” he demands, stepping back as a man crowds into him and pushes his way into the suite. The man is tall, dark, and handsome, charismatic face and presence of a celebrity.
“I needed to see you,” starts the man, who then freezes when he notices Jeongguk in the room, stares at him for a moment and then quickly addresses Taehyung without turning away. “Who is this?”
“Someone I met,” Taehyung answers quickly, stepping around the man to stand between him and the room, back to Jeongguk. “What are you doing here, Bogum?”
“I can just go,” Jeongguk mutters, crestfallen, pulling his shirt over his head because he feels a little silly standing there half naked now.
“No, I invited you here,” Taehyung interjects without looking back at Jeongguk. “You have to go,” he says to the man, Bogum.
“Are you fucking this kid?” Bogum spits out the words. “Are we fucking high schoolers now, Taehyung?”
“Oh please, he's four years younger than you,” Taehyung snorts, taking an angry pull of his cigarette.
“I think I should go,” Jeongguk says again, uncomfortable with witnessing this, uncomfortable with how Taehyung's actor-boyfriend, ex, whatever he is, is eyeing him.
Looking like he's itching for a fight, one Jeongguk might just be inclined to join.
“Yeah, you should,” Bogum quips.
“Bogum.” Taehyung hisses it, but now it sounds like he might agree, like he also wants Jeongguk to leave.
Jeongguk keeps his head down as he makes his way over to the door, Taehyung and Bogum shifting out of the way when he steps through them to get to his shoes. The black sandals are still there and Jeongguk feels a lump wedge in his throat when he sees them by his shiny Oxfords.
Nothing else is said until the door slams behind him, but Jeongguk hears muffled yelling through the walls as soon as it does.
He holds his breath in the walk to the elevator, closes his eyes when he steps in and it shuts behind him.
Jeongguk stumbles into the train with unlaced shoes, takes the priority seat at the far end of the car even if it's the last train and everyone inside has their eyes closed.
He belatedly realizes the shirt he's wearing isn't his own, but the red silk blouse he'd meant to put on for Taehyung. Has a moment to feel embarrassed, angry, then just sad. Hurt.
He's so, so hurt.
His chest is heavy, loaded, and Jeongguk curls forward into his lap and presses fingers into his eyes and cries. Can't even wait until he's alone.
When he arrives home, drops down on his tiny bed in a silk shirt covered with wet streaks, Jeongguk's phone chimes several times in his pocket.
I'm so sorry.
Please let me see you again
Received 12:36 AM
thank u for all the sweet words and kudos!! i'm v bad at finishing things so knowing there's people reading this is really what keeps me going <3
Chapter 5: neu roses
In truth I'm up on my luck, can't stop running amok.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
It's the scolding Jeongguk has been waiting for all morning, since he emerged from his bedroom to find Jimin at the stove silently flipping pancakes, no music or loud greeting when he noticed the younger join him.
It's not often that they have serious fights, Jimin too indulging and Jeongguk always willing to make it up to him, but when they do it's always like this. Jimin's cold shoulder has a tendency to sting more than a million insults.
Jeongguk had set out plates and butter on the wobbly dining table, apologetic in his meek movements and silence, but Jimin's shoulders stayed tense and it was only when they both took seats to eat together that the elder broke the silence.
“I wasn't, hyung,” Jeongguk mutters, elbow on the table and knuckles folded against his cheek as he takes the pancake at the top of the stack and drops it onto Jimin's waiting plate. He doesn't want to talk about this, has spent a sleepless night going over it a million times in his head already and doesn't really feel like reliving it again.
“Yeah, clearly. Do you know how awkward it was for me after you left like that?” Jimin demands. Jeongguk doesn't have to look over to guess what kind of face his friend's making, full lips pressed together and ever-smiling eyes hard. Jimin's angry, justifiably so. No, Jeongguk can't even imagine how it must've been for him to be alone with the mess he created. And it was Jimin's day, too, his special event.
“I'm sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk sighs softly, no fight in him. He lowers his head, cards fingers through his overgrown bangs and wishes he could just stand up and walk away from this scolding, maybe tell Jimin he got the punishment he deserved afterwards, just a couple hours later.
“You have to apologize to her. God— how are you even going to do that? She left, you know, right after you did. Apologized like it was her fault and all. Jesus, Jeongguk.”
Jimin pauses as they both process the thought together, poor Jieun probably tearfully leaving the event Jeongguk had invited her to after he all but verbally harassed her, bullied her for something that didn't matter. Jimin shakes his head wearily and Jeongguk drops his head forward to slide his palm across his face.
For all that he's mulled over the previous night, Jeongguk realizes he hasn't spent much time considering Jieun and her feelings. Too self-absorbed, selfish. No wonder things turned out the way they did, he thinks. Too caught up in his own feelings, he never stopped to consider how one-sided they were. Karma, poetic justice that he'd get pushed aside in the end.
“What even came over you?” Jimin continues, and this time Jeongguk can't even bring himself to keep his head up as he's talking, his throat too tight. “I thought we were over that childish stuff, you getting randomly grouchy. It's like, all of a sudden you were in this horrible mood and—” Jimin pauses again but Jeongguk still can't look, too busy rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.
“Are you crying right now?”
Jeongguk shakes his head futilely, but his runny nose gives him away when he sniffles loudly in an attempt to suck it back in. His eyes still feel swollen from crying the night before, but apparently his body isn't done feeling sorry for itself yet.
The chair across from him scrapes noisily across the floor when Jimin stands and bustles around the table, grabbing Jeongguk's knee when he crouches down beside his chair.
Jimin's indulging, always so ready to forgive. Sometimes they joke that Jeongguk's tears awaken his maternal instincts. Sometimes it doesn't feel entirely like a joke.
“Stop, I'm fine. I'm fine,” Jeongguk insists, pushing away his friend's hand because he's embarrassed, doesn't want to be comforted when this is all his fault.
“Jeonggukie, hyung didn't mean to make you cry. I know you were just trying to defend me in your own way, alright?” his friend croons, near one-eighty from the stern tone he was just using. Like he thinks Jeongguk's a fragile thing, might crack at the lightest harsh word.
Jeongguk usually lets Jimin get away with babying him when he's feeling this small but now it just reminds him of Taehyung for some reason. Of how they were last night, how being around Taehyung had made him feel. How all he'd wanted was to please him, make him smile his pretty grin, happiness a good look on him. One Jeongguk took pleasure in thinking he brought on.
“Guk, what's wrong?”
Taehyung, Jeongguk realizes. He hasn't even told his best friend about Taehyung. Jimin, who he thinks he tells everything to, who knows him better than anyone else.
“Jeongguk, you gotta talk to me.”
But there are important factors Jeongguk has been considering overnight, the unbalanced interest, the age gap, the girl he's been seeing who seems to like and accept him even when he keeps screwing up.
Jeongguk might genuinely not feel like Jieun is the one for him, doesn't think he could be with her after all of this even if he wanted to, but the fact that she's there and exists is a reminder that there are more fish in the sea. He doesn't need to chase after someone who shows no interest back. That a perfect girl like Jieun likes him gives him something to fall back on, a safer bet.
Took another earnest suitor– tall, dark-haired younger man desperate for Taehyung's affection– to make Jeongguk realize he's just wasting his time thinking about something he can't have. The stranger like a reflection of himself, pining and pitiful. Was that how Taehyung saw him?
The grass is always greener on the other side, so be happy with what you have. It's what Jimin's warned him of many times. Jeongguk figures it's time to start listening.
“Nothing, hyung,” he mutters. Clamps up, shaking his head and deciding he's going to keep the secret of Taehyung to himself. No point in discussing a romance that never really was. Over before it ever began.
And Taehyung's unavailable, Jeongguk's known it since reading that address on his business card, but he's been ignoring that bit of information for far too long.
What's the point of grieving for something that could never happen?
Jimin helps Jeongguk craft an apology text to Jieun. Jeongguk quietly edits out the ‘baby’ and the tearful emoji, sends a message he'd be comfortable sending to any friend. She answers promptly, short response saying she understands, figured Jeongguk had just had a bad day, and promises to not take it personally.
Jeongguk never answers Taehyung's text, leaves it on read.
Jeongguk's shift at the bar on Sunday comes on another blustery, stormy day. He heard on the news that it's a typhoon on its way, the city in the path of some tropical storm originated in a foreign country and expected to sweep the coast at the beginning of the work week. He can hear the rough patter of rain through the walls, can smell it in the crisp air whenever the front door swings open with another departing customer.
The place is almost empty by the time midnight rolls around, the only bargoer left being an old man Jeongguk recognizes as a regular in one of the booth tables at the back of the bar. Instead of wine he's drinking herbal tea, teabag he'd brought himself and hot water supplied by the bartender. Jeongguk thinks the man might be retired, bed of white hair thinning on his head and tips always generous.
He used to wonder why anyone would spend hours at this bar by themselves, but tonight he thinks he might understand. The murmur of jazz is surprisingly soothing to the turbulent mind.
Jeongguk isn't not expecting it when he shows up that night.
The door opens and the sound of rain floods into the bar and Jeongguk already has a feeling of who it might be before he looks over and confirms it.
Taehyung has the same black umbrella, the long one he'd propped against the wall that first night. He's in faded blue jeans damp at the hems, the first time Jeongguk's seen him in anything resembling regular casual menswear, although the excessively loose striped button-down tucked in behind his leather belt is a reminder of how he usually dresses. Classy and over-the-top, too many buttons undone at the top hinting at the downward slope of his shoulders.
Taehyung's brown hair shines under the dim light, maybe a little puffy from the humidity, and when he looks across the room and meets Jeongguk's gaze and slowly wets pink lips, Jeongguk's suddenly reminded of the hold his presence has on him. Taehyung's aura like a beacon, confidence attractive and face straight out of a movie screen. Without the barrier of other people in the room, Jeongguk feels exposed.
He turns away, ducks under the bar and pretends to sort something around in the glass fridge so he doesn't have to stand there and watch Taehyung saunter over. The counter between them feels like safety, physical barrier where there's little else.
Jeongguk doesn't want to talk to Taehyung. It isn't a good idea to talk to Taehyung.
But does he have a choice?
Eventually Jeongguk feels silly enough he has to stand back up, and when he does Taehyung is right there, exactly on the opposite side of the bar. The floor slopes and gives the bar a slight height advantage, but Jeongguk doesn't feel any taller than him as meets his eyes, warm and brown and concerned.
And it's annoying, frustrating that even disappointed and embarrassed and pissed off Jeongguk still can't help but think the world of this Kim Taehyung, admire him for what he wears and what he looks like and how the slight furrow of his brows and thin set of his lips just make Jeongguk want to kiss him silly.
All so skewed, how much only he wants. Him, only ever him, Taehyung barely showing any real interest back. Just enough to let Jeongguk know the attraction's not entirely unreciprocated, always just enough to keep him hanging.
“What do you want?” Jeongguk asks, trying to sound like he's just addressing another guest but he'd never be this rude.
The furrow between Taehyung's dark brows deepens and a pink tongue swipes over the seam of his lips before it's disappearing behind them again. Jeongguk has to avert his gaze after that, remind himself that even if Taehyung's being so attractive to him it doesn't mean he intends to be, doesn't mean anything. He's mistaken it for flirting before but that's all it ever was, a mistake.
“Are you angry at me?” comes Taehyung's low voice slowly. He says it soft and worried but Jeongguk doesn't like the question, thinks it disingenuous.
“What do you want?” he repeats, crossing his arms over his chest, work blazer pulling around his shoulders, strung tight like his insides.
Taehyung says it and then goes silent as if Jeongguk's supposed to chime in that he isn't. Jeongguk stays quiet and frowns at him, the best scowl he can manage under the circumstances. It's not hard to look pissed when he's spent days brooding and all Taehyung does when he finally reaches out is pretend not to know why he'd be upset.
“Why?” Taehyung continues, then hesitates and adds, “Me and Bogum are not together.”
“Are you gonna order a drink? I'm kind of working right now,” Jeongguk replies icily, jerking his chin in the direction of the single customer sharing the room with them.
His mind is processing what he's just heard, that the tall desperate guy wasn't Taehyung's boyfriend, but Jeongguk already had a suspicion that that might be the case and so the words don't provide much in the way of comfort.
He watches Taehyung look across the room, moisten his lips again as he regards the bar’s final guest for a moment before simply heading over.
Jeongguk's jaw drops in shock as Taehyung walks straight up to the man's table and stops beside it, back to the bar as he says something in a hushed tone, voice a low murmur.
Jeongguk should tell him to back off, leave the customer alone, but he's frozen in place and too embarrassed when the old man looks at him around Taehyung. All Jeongguk can do is bow a wordless apology, mind racing when the hears the man reply something he can't make out.
Jeongguk sees Taehyung reach for the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, then the man stands and folds his paperback closed, touching Taehyung's elbow as he steps out of the booth with a friendly smile that has wrinkles crinkling around his kind eyes.
Whatever Taehyung's said to him, the man is leaving now.
Jeongguk stutters. “Sir, you don't—”
“Have a good night, son,” the old man says simply, shooting Jeongguk another kind smile and a nod as he passes the bar and grabs his umbrella from the bin by the door before making a swift exit.
The sound of rain amplifies before the door shutting behind him muffles it once again. Leaving Jeongguk completely alone with Taehyung.
He whips his head in the other’s direction. “What are you doing? You can't do that!” Jeongguk shrieks, annoyance and disbelief seeping into his voice and raising it an octave. “This is my job! That guy was a regular! What are you going to do if he never comes back?”
“Relax, Jeongguk, he'll come back,” Taehyung assures him, looking entirely unperturbed that Jeongguk's raising his voice as he approaches the bar again.
“How the hell do you know?” Jeongguk demands, taking a step back as Taehyung closes the distance, the counter between them suddenly not nearly enough. “You kicked him out!”
“I didn't, I asked him very nicely if I could have a word with you after I bought him a drink,” Taehyung replies evenly, brushing hair back from his brow with a finger, the rest of his hand curled around the cuff of his sleeve. “It's not a big deal, it's already late. The guy was nice.”
“You can't just do that,” Jeongguk all but growls, resentment and hurt surging in his chest, backed up against the alcohol shelves like a cornered animal. “You can't just send people packing when it's convenient for you. It's rude and it's shitty and I don't care if that's okay with you rich people in New York because it's not okay to do here, and if you can't understand that then you better just fucking leave.”
His outburst has Taehyung going silent, his face draining of any expression until it's completely blank, a reticent mask Jeongguk's so used to. The yelled words ring out of place when the room goes quiet except for the smooth piano– perhaps not as calming to the soul after all. Just makes the turmoil more starkly obvious.
Jeongguk's heaving, jaw muscles clenched tight as he presses his teeth hard together. For a moment he feels a twinge of regret, unease creeping in as he regrets yelling and feels he took it too far. No point in bringing up the money, the America thing. But it's what he's been thinking, what's been on his mind the last few days, and Jeongguk never could contain himself for long.
But then Taehyung's pursing his lips and stepping closer, hand outstretching slowly to reach over the bar to Jeongguk. His arm isn't long enough to touch him, stays in midair like he's waiting for Jeongguk to take his hand. Jeongguk's jaw slackens, eyes flitting down to the hand held out to him, fingers long and elegant.
“You're right,” Taehyung says softly, even-keeled despite the one-way shouting match. Patient, perhaps remorseful himself. “You're absolutely right. I was horrible to you, so inconsiderate. I shouldn't have let you go.”
Jeongguk could reach out, close the distance and slip his own fingers through Taehyung's waiting ones. It's what part of him has been waiting to hear, a heartfelt apology, and it does feel like something brittle like recognition.
But that isn't enough.
“No.” The word comes out like a half-suppressed cough, choked out and timid. Jeongguk doesn't know where the anger he was holding onto went, feels this harder without it. He turns his head away and lowers it, hair spilling down over his eyes. “You should go.”
It's silent again, just music. Jeongguk listens to the familiar melancholic sax seeping through the speakers, a sound that used to get on his nerves but comforts him now, provides him with some much needed sense of familiarity when everything he's feeling is endlessly uncomfortable and new.
When he leaves, Taehyung doesn't say anything. Jeongguk feels the way he withdraws his hand like he's watching it happen. He doesn't hear footsteps, not with the music and without the sharp clack of heels, but a moment later the front door is opening and the storm roaring in briefly before it all goes quiet again.
Sax and bass, everything else muffled. Jeongguk is alone now.
For a moment, everything is fine. He raises his head and the room is all empty space again, no pretty face to distract him or lead him down the path of no return.
Jeongguk breathes, sniffles, it's all so quiet.
It's what he wanted, what he told himself had to happen next time he and Taehyung saw each other. Nothing between them anyway, no kiss or touches or anything to regret. It's good that he cut it off now, before anything could ever happen. Jeongguk hasn't done anything, can just forget he ever met the man and move on with his life. A clean break.
It's just a vacation for Taehyung, but for Jeongguk it's his life . He'll still be here when the other is gone, which could happen any day now.
Any day. And then Jeongguk will never see him again. Not his warm eyes or boxy grin or the curve of his slender body, shoulders wide and slim. Not his skirts or loose shirts or strikingly odd outfits. He won't hear his voice, low and creamy like the blow of sax itself. Won't ever touch his hair, verify that it's as soft as it looks.
Jeongguk wanted to take his picture. God, how he wishes he'd taken one, at least one.
But he didn't do anything.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Has to do something.
Jeongguk moves fast, bolting down and out the gap underneath the bar at the side. Miscalculates, hits the top of his head on the counter when he tries to stand too early, but he ignores the sharp pain in favor of rushing across the room to the door. He catches a glimpse of the black umbrella against the wall but ignores that, too, no time.
The downpour is torrential, wind roaring in when Jeongguk pushes the door out, and for a second it's disorienting how loud everything is when he's spent hours in the shelter of the bar. Wind and rain and leaves blow in past him, soaking the front of his shirt and pants, and Jeongguk steps out to let the door swing shut behind him so they don't wet the already creaky floorboards of the old building.
And Taehyung's there, standing just outside the bar. The neon drop sign hangs directly above him, BAR spelled out vertically in glowing red letters that buzz audibly beneath the whistle of the wind, and with the chaos of weather he doesn't seem to notice Jeongguk come out. Has a hand cupped around a lighter, flicking at it insistently as he attempts to light the cigarette stuck between his lips. Orange flame licking up weakly before it promptly dies at the onslaught of the storm. Taehyung's hands are trembling.
Jeongguk's voice gets lost in the wind, but the other still somehow hears it, head whipping around to face the younger at the door. He slowly lowers the hand holding the lighter, stares at Jeongguk in the dark with wide, open eyes, matted hair hanging gracelessly around his cheeks, cigarette dangling from his lips. Bathed in the red glow of the neon sign above him, storm raging all around.
It's the first time Jeongguk's seeing Taehyung anything but perfectly composed, hair flat and wet and drenched button-down hanging heavily from his shoulders, clinging to his chest. Disheveled look like nothing Jeongguk could've ever imagined he'd get to see, and there's a vulnerability in the openness of his expression even in the low light that makes Taehyung infinitely more approachable.
Maybe Jeongguk's not the only one struggling.
Jeongguk closes the distance in long, quick strides and Taehyung doesn't move, just backs himself against the brick wall as the other crowds into his space. Jeongguk's hands go to Taehyung's body, fingers curling around the jut of his hip and slipping into the back of his wet hair, tangling in the weighed down longish strands. Taehyung tips his head back into the touch, damp cigarette brushing the side of Jeongguk's cheek when the younger leans in and only stops when he's got his nose against the side of Taehyung's face.
He whispers it, the proximity the only thing leaving his voice audible over the roaring wind. “Can I kiss you?”
Jeongguk thinks he hears Taehyung groan. “Yes.”
The cigarette between Taehyung's lips is almost soft to the touch when Jeongguk plucks it between his fingers, taking it away as the elder parts his lips to let him have it. He drops it to the pavement and it’s immediately blown away, but his eyes are instead fixed on Taehyung’s mouth in the dark before he moves in and covers it with his.
Taehyung sighs against his face, warm air fanning Jeongguk's wet cheek, breath like mint instead of wine. He kisses gently at first, letting the younger take the lead as he slides a warm palm up Jeongguk's drenched back, blazer stuck to his t-shirt underneath. Jeongguk clamps his hand harder around his hip, feeling the intense heat of Taehyung's skin permeate the soaked cotton.
Jieun was the last person he kissed, a parting kiss goodnight after one of their dinner dates. Her lips had been soft and small and sweet, kiss not timid but somehow not leaving Jeongguk craving more.
Taehyung's lips are fuller, supple upper lip pressing soft over the top of Jeongguk's as he works his mouth against his. Instead of handing over the reins entirely, Taehyung kisses light and unhurried but insistent, not letting the energy die down when Jeongguk slows the movement of his jaw. He's the one to slide out his tongue first, slipping it hot into Jeongguk's mouth and licking at the roof of his mouth. Jeongguk shudders, feels a pang in his lower belly, pushes Taehyung against the wall as he responds in kind, sliding their tongues together.
It feels incredible, the kind of kiss that's perfectly orchestrated and satisfying, the water dripping into their mouths from their faces making it taste of rain, like nothing Jeongguk's ever had before. And it feels good to hold Taehyung close, heat emanating from his chest and the back of his head even when his skin is chilled at the surface. When he presses Taehyung against the wall with the weight of his chest and Taehyung moans into his mouth, Jeongguk’s heart flutters.
His hair and clothes are getting soaked with cold water, but instead of a hinderance it feels to Jeongguk like validation, metaphysical proof that this is right, summer storm makeout like a scene out of a movie. It can't be wrong if it's this cinematic, the quintessential first kiss.
Taehyung's also the one to part first, mouth sliding wet up to Jeongguk's cheek as he breaks the kiss. Jeongguk stays right there against him, hands all over Taehyung and chest heaving against his like skin on skin as they both pant to catch their breaths.
“Taehyung,” Jeongguk says again, like a plea or a prayer. Cranes down to bring his mouth to the elder’s neck, the perfume he always wears strong with how wet his skin’s gotten.
They're both soaked to the bone, cold.
The hand Taehyung has on Jeongguk's back travels down, smoothing down the back of his blazer to the seat of his jeans. Taehyung's palm is wide and warm as it settles over the curve of Jeongguk’s ass, not pulling or squeezing, just a heavy touch.
“Jeongguk,” he murmurs, the way his deep voice laces around the syllables of his name ingraining itself in Jeongguk’s mind, even if it's hard to hear. He slowly raises his face from the crook of Taehyung's neck, their noses sliding damply together as the elder tilts his own head down to knock his forehead against Jeongguk's. “I’m so sorry.”
Their faces are as close as can be, forehead to forehead, nose bridge to nose bridge. Jeongguk’s staring right into Taehyung's eyes, the angle granting him a closeup view of the slight mismatched shape he noticed that first night, one hooded and the other a double lid. They look black in the dark, blown and round, water drops clinging to his straight eyelashes and making them stick together. It's hard to keep his eyes open at the onslaught of rain spilling down over them, but Jeongguk still manages to keep them wide open. He’s never stood this physically close to anyone before, never breathed in the air breathed out by someone else. It’s intense, has his heart thudding against his ribs, hammering he can distinctly feel.
“Okay,” he replies.
Taehyung doesn't move, hand warm on Jeongguk and breath even warmer. “Will you forgive me?”
“Okay,” Jeongguk repeats, without hesitation.
He feels Taehyung's smile, sees it in his eyes. “Let's go back in,” he calls out over the rain.
Chapter 6: hold me down
If you love me baby let me hear you say it, I know I'm your favorite.
Taehyung comes see him at the bar every night after that.
He shows up around ten, orders a different kind of wine every day, and sits at one of the booth tables in the back. More often than not, when Jeongguk looks over between mixing drinks and swiping credit cards, Taehyung is on his phone. Typing or scrolling through or talking into it. Jeongguk thinks he does that a lot. He wonders if those are his business hours running late or if it's all pleasure that has Taehyung stuck to electronics in the middle of the night.
Jeongguk thinks of Taehyung a lot. More, ever since their kiss.
He doesn't have to wonder anymore if Taehyung likes him, can see it clear now in the softening of his eyes when they meet his across the dark room. It's there in how the lines around Taehyung’s eyes disappear, the furrow of his brows smooth out when he catches the bartender looking his way. It's like tension drains from Taehyung's face when he sees Jeongguk, like the sight of him can momentarily do away with whatever's been troubling his mind.
Jeongguk recognizes the feeling because he thinks he feels the same happen to him.
So he knows his presence has a clear effect on the guy, has him coming back everyday, but Taehyung always leaves the bar before it's empty and they can get any alone time.
On the night they kissed, after heading back inside to escape the storm– clothes dripping on scratched hardwood, collecting in puddles Jeongguk would later mop up– Taehyung had cupped Jeongguk's cheek in a big palm, let him lean in and take another kiss. Then he had pulled back, said he needed to go– and Jeongguk had let him, too dazed and flustered to do or say anything else.
Back in his bedroom that night Jeongguk had held his phone to call Jieun, tell her he wanted to break off whatever it is they had, but just as he'd pulled up her contact card he'd been flooded with images of how that call might go. Confusion over why Jeongguk was calling so late, hurt over the request, anger at him for doing it over the phone. And what would he say when she asked why? It wasn't her– wasn't perfect, sweet, friendly Jieun at all– and he didn't want to hurt her by having her think that it was. No, it was him.
But just the thought of ‘it's not you it's me’ had Jeongguk hurling his phone away.
He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know if he should be honest and tell her there was someone else he was interested in. He wouldn't be breaking up with her if there wasn't Taehyung, would he? But could he even tell her about him? Jieun seemed generally open-minded, but he had no idea how she'd react to that. Maybe it'd be insulting, maybe it would hurt her more.
Jeongguk really doesn't want to hurt her. He might not be interested in Jieun romantically but he doesn't want things to end on a bad note. She’s nice. Maybe they could stay friends after. Jeongguk’s never broken up with anyone before but has a clear idea of how he wants it to go– he just hasn't figured out how to get there yet.
So he postpones it, tells himself the best way to do it is in person next time they meet. They'd never really talked about being in a relationship, didn't text or see much of each other at all, so maybe she'd never been his girlfriend after all. It was possible. Maybe when he suggested they break up she'd laugh at the idea that they'd ever been dating. Maybe she'd continue smiling and tell Jeongguk that yes, they could keep hanging out without the romantic expectations.
Jeongguk wants that to be true. Never thought himself a cheater, doesn't feel like that's what he's been doing to Jieun, who he never thought of as the girl I like. But he knows it's also entirely possible that that's what Jieun had been expecting of him, that cheating is exactly what he's been doing.
He doesn't want to know. Better not to think of it while he figures out how to deal with it.
What he does want to know is what Taehyung thinks of him. Taehyung, who seems bold, assertive and resolute and yet has done nothing about their unresolved chemistry, the way the other bodies in the room fall away so it's just them, the electricity sparking like a downed power line between them when they catch each other looking. Jeongguk knows Taehyung feels it, too.
Taehyung's left it up to Jeongguk to make the first and every move, and yet keeps coming around to his workplace every night only to leave before he can get the chance to talk to him. It's a confusing and frustrating game, one Jeongguk has started getting used to when it comes to Taehyung. One he's no good at and doesn't want to play but ends up getting sucked into anyway.
It takes four nights of that for Jeongguk to finally decide he's had enough. It's Thursday, last day of his workweek, and maybe it's the thought of not seeing Taehyung those next few days that has Jeongguk thinking that this is the night he does something about the man's disappearing act.
The bar is relatively busy, four seats around the bar taken when Taehyung arrives just after ten. He comes dressed in a black head-to-toe look that seems like something out of a funeral-themed editorial, dark and dramatic. Brown hair swept into a black beret, form-fitting turtleneck, cropped pants that swish loose around his legs like a skirt.
“Whatever Pinot you have on hand, please,” Taehyung comes to the bar to order. He has a phone in his hand and isn't looking at Jeongguk. Jeongguk knows because he's staring, Taehyung like a vision in the dim orange light.
“Like that first night, huh?” he chuckles, a little teasing and a little bitter.
“You're not looking at me.”
Taehyung raises his head, phone still poised in his hand. Meets Jeongguk's eyes and— the softening. Jeongguk pretends he doesn't see it. It's not good for him to keep reading too much into that.
“You didn't look at me that first night, either,” Jeongguk supplies. “I kept wanting you to but you wouldn't.” He turns to grab the wine chilling in the back fridge, a bottle he'd set out especially for Taehyung.
Taehyung doesn't say anything and doesn't move, but when Jeongguk returns with the wine and a glass, he hasn't gone back to texting. The phone lays forgotten on the countertop, Taehyung's arms crossed over his chest.
“I looked, I remember looking.” The corner of Taehyung's mouth is slightly curled up as he watches Jeongguk stab the cork with the corkscrew, twist it around. “I thought you had the biggest eyes I'd ever seen.” Jeongguk doesn't know what to make of that and bristles a little, popping out the cork and pulling it from the screw. Taehyung's smile grows. “It's a compliment. People would kill for round eyes like yours,” he says.
Jeongguk considers that for a second as he fills the glass with two-hundred thousand a bottle wine. It's not Pinot Noir. He wonders if Taehyung will be able to tell. “I bet they'd also kill for your eyes,” he replies as he sets the glass on the counter in front of Taehyung, fingers on the foot. Taehyung slips a hand around the bottom of the bowl, stem sliding home between his long fingers, but Jeongguk keeps his own pressed to the base of the glass and doesn't let him take it away.
Taehyung's eyes flick up from the wine, meeting Jeongguk's. He sees it dawn in the man's dark eyes– this is the move.
“No,” Taehyung answers, curl of his lips deceptively amicable.
A bitter taste at the back of his tongue that Jeongguk thinks feels a lot like panic threatens to overwhelm him, but he proceeds as if it's not there at all, as if that response hasn't just been a blow to his confidence. “Yes.”
“Why?” Taehyung's eyes are back on the wine, the dark lines of his eyebrows smooth in one of his impeccably blank expressions. Jeongguk wishes it really were a mask, because then he could reach over and rip it off and see how Taehyung really feels. Why he's acting like this.
“Because I want you to,” Jeongguk answers, just as steadfast. But it sounds childish to his ears, like the stubborn answer he'd give if he cared less than he actually does. So he amends, sincere: “ — because I'm asking. Please.”
Taehyung looks up and holds Jeongguk's gaze, staring into his eyes for so long Jeongguk has to wonder what he sees, what he looks like through them. Before he can worry too much, Taehyung seems to decide in his favor, slowly pulling out the bar stool in front of him and settling down on it. Jeongguk nearly sags in his relief, letting go of the glass.
Taehyung doesn't answer and isn't watching anymore, turns his eyes away as he raises the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip. He doesn't look too happy about sitting there. Jeongguk wants to say something else but this is pushing his luck already, too personal when they have an audience just one bar stool away. There's only so much lazy jazz can block out.
The man in a business suit who's been at the bar since seven signals the bartender for the check and Jeongguk heads over to settle his tab. There's only one thought in his mind as he works, how there are only three other customers now, three people before he gets to be alone with Taehyung and ask what's up with his behavior. Did he like kissing him or not? He couldn't really just be coming to this bar every night because he liked paying big bucks for wine, right? Jeongguk figures that if people weren't sitting so close he could probably try to talk to Taehyung now. He doesn't know what he'll do if Taehyung tries to leave early again tonight.
Jeongguk sees Taehyung's phone vibrate and light up on the counter. The man picks it up, unlocks it with his fingerprint at the back and resumes his usual practice of reading and texting all night. Just dragging him from his secluded seat wasn't enough to alter the course of things.
Jeongguk eyes the other customers sitting in the dark. Two women chatting over drinks, a depressed-looking man hunched over a nearly empty scotch. There's no one looking, no one needs anything. He pulls out his own phone from the back pocket of his uniform.
What are you doing?
Delivered 10:36 PM
He leans back against the sink below the shelves of liquor, watching and waiting for Taehyung to look up at him. Taehyung doesn't. He types.
Received 10:36 PM
Delivered 10:37 PM
Day has just started in NY.
This is when I work.
Received 10:37 PM
Ohh. Yeah ok.
Delivered 10:37 PM
Jeongguk immediately feels stupid for the question and it must show on his face because he hears Taehyung snicker. His head snaps up, but Taehyung quickly looks back down at his phone, white glow on his face. Jeongguk wants to think the suppressed chuckle was the music playing tricks on him, but the bright light of Taehyung's phone shines like a beacon over the hint of a smile on his lips. Jeongguk licks his and fails to keep from smiling himself.
You laughing at me? Rude.
Delivered 10:38 PM
Taehyung makes another noise of amusement and Jeongguk catches his gaze this time when he glances over. They grin at each other like he and Jimin sometimes do when they share a private joke.
Jeongguk looks back down at his phone and searches through his library of saved memes to send one to Taehyung, a man making a funny face. He's immensely pleased when he hears Taehyung stifle a laugh with his hand.
Did you have this saved on your phone?
Received 10:39 PM
Delivered 10:39 PM
Taehyung replies with the laughing emoji, smiley face squinting with big teardrops on each side. Jeongguk's heart aches a little. He types another message.
You're so cute.
Delivered 10:40 PM
Taehyung stops laughing, and when Jeongguk hesitantly looks over, he finds that he's looking at him, too. He has a soft smile on his face, lips closed and stretched gently. Like he's mollified but still holding back somehow. Jeongguk wants to tell Taehyung he's cute to his face, see if maybe that gets him smiling that boxy grin.
Taehyung licks his lips before his head dips to look back at his phone, thumb tapping across the screen. With his other hand he picks up his wine, lifting the glass to his lips and tipping it back.
This is not Pinot Noir.
You're a naughty bartender.
Received 10:41 PM
Jeongguk lingers on the naughty for longer than he probably should, the word potentially used not as an innuendo but evoking a range of emotions in him. His chest swells a little with the realization that this is flirting, it has to be.
He turns and heads into the back fridge area, his way of putting on a mask over the delight he knows must be showing on his face. If Taehyung can be mysterious then he can, too.
It's Cabernet. I had a taste the other night and thought you might like it.
Delivered 10:42 PM
Jeongguk waits, but the replies stop coming. He can't see Taehyung anymore to check what he's doing, so after a couple minutes of standing alone among buzzing freezers he accepts defeat and tucks his phone away, heading back into the main room. Leave the mystery to Taehyung.
When he emerges from the back, the two women sitting together ask to close their tab. They've been waiting, it seems. Jeongguk hands them back their cards and accepts their generous cash tips with a furtive glance at Taehyung. Maybe this is the reason he stopped texting. Jeongguk's phone vibrates in his back pocket— once, twice.
He checks it when the door swings shut behind the laughing customers.
I like your wine. :)
Received 10:59 PM
There's only one other person left in the bar and Taehyung's wine glass is nearly empty. Jeongguk heads over for a refill.
“How do you like your wine?” He wants to hear the words from his mouth.
“I like it,” Taehyung answers with an amused smile as he watches Jeongguk top up his glass. His phone is locked once more, sitting dark on the counter beside the wine glass. “Thank you. You're truly a great bartender.”
Jeongguk snickers, pressing his lips together over a grin to keep from laughing too loud. Taehyung smiles at him back, big and impish. Taehyung is funny, who would've thought.
“I'm glad,” Jeongguk replies.
Taehyung's phone lights up when it rings. Jeongguk is still standing right on the other side of the counter so he catches a glimpse of the name that flashes across the screen. Park Bogum . There's a picture to go along with it, what looks like a shot taken on a hiking trail with green fields all around, Bogum in sunglasses flashing the camera a winning grin. Taehyung must've taken the photo.
A veiny hand settles over the phone, covering the screen as Taehyung locks the device and declines the call. Jeongguk's eyes flick up and meet his. Neither of them says anything for a long moment. Taehyung's playful smile is long gone. Jeongguk might as well have imagined it.
“How's your girlfriend doing?” Taehyung finally breaks their staring contest.
The deflecting comes like a slap in the face, petty and mean. Jeongguk takes offense. He should've never told him about Jieun.
“I don't have one,” he bites back tersely.
Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up. “You broke up?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. “He isn't your boyfriend either, right?”
Taehyung's eyebrows drop. He stops looking at Jeongguk, picks up his wine and takes a long sip, face— yes, expressionless. Jeongguk moves away, wets a rag in the sink to start wiping off a wine spill he'd ignored earlier. He slaps the damp cloth over the dark puddle with more force than necessary, spattering droplets everywhere. He has to grab the cleaning spray from under the sink, keeps his back to the bar as he scrubs the counter spotless like an act of defiance.
The place falls into silence, low bass and synth backdrop filling the room. Tension sits thick in the air, painful. This is different from the other nights but it isn't quite what Jeongguk had in mind. He's pissed off, but still wonders what sort of text he can send to Taehyung next to take things back to their light hearted banter. Somehow that feels impossible. Jimin would know exactly what to say if he were here to help. Jeongguk feels inadequate.
A chair scrapes over the floor directly behind him. Taehyung is standing up.
“Just the check, please.”
Jeongguk feels like breaking something. He should've seen this coming; no matter how blatant Taehyung's answering flirting is, he always puts a stop to things in the end. He must really not be interested. Must be thinking Jeongguk's just something to play with while he's in town. Jeon Jeongguk, Park Bogum, etcetera. It hurts because he's been acting the same all along but it still hadn't registered in Jeongguk’s brain, he just wants Taehyung more every day. Maybe he deserves this. Maybe it's karma.
He definitely deserves this.
“It's whatever, just— Go.” Jeongguk has to grit it out. He fists a hand around the wet rag, red bleeding through his fingers as he squeezes too hard.
Taehyung is eyeing him, he can feel it, but Jeongguk ignores the weight of his gaze and goes back to polishing circles on the counter until his fingertips feel raw with stained disinfectant. He thinks he hears something like a clasp opening, but by the time it registers with him what that might be and he spins around to stop it, Taehyung is already at the door, pulling it open and stepping out. He left money on the counter, wouldn't even take the damn free drink. Something about that stings.
Jeongguk tells himself he should've known. Nothing much has changed since they kissed, just that as he's getting more obsessed by the day, it's becoming increasingly obvious that Taehyung, for whatever reason, doesn't reciprocate. Jeongguk feels strung along. Like a fool, stalking a guy who isn't interested but keeps flirting back anyway. Keeps coming to see him, keeps watering the crush Jeongguk's trying hard– not hard enough– to uproot.
Jeongguk's never been in this position before. No middle school crush had ever been this miserable, certainly no adult crush. In college, when he found a girl pretty or a boy attractive, Jeongguk had no problem approaching them, no problem getting them to kiss him or like him back. Something's different this time, something that's out of his control.
It's time to stop.
“'—'s not worth it, son,” the lone drunk man sitting in the corner slurs.
It's two a.m. before Jeongguk is able to close up the bar.
It's a chilly night, so he keeps his work blazer on. The wind whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, the buzzing of street lamps and the distant drone of speeding cars on the highway the only sounds in the late night. This part of Gangnam is always dead at night, little nearby nightlife to attract people who'd still be out. It's probably the only reason shoddy Europa is still in business; it's a place for those who have nowhere else to go.
Jeongguk walks with the money Taehyung had left on the counter clutched in one hand. He has a detailed plan: take it back, shove it at the guy, give him a piece of his mind and tell him to find somewhere else to drink as he works. It'll be dramatic, maybe have some hotel neighbors opening their doors to check out the source of the noise, and Jeongguk will stomp away victorious. It will be his catharsis, his last move.
Last move before he lets go.
Jeongguk slows his pace when the looming luxury skyscraper comes into view, fully lit inside with a dutiful valet posted at the door. The man bows at him in greeting when he pushes through the wide revolving doors into the hotel, and Jeongguk tries not to look as angry and upset as he feels when he crosses the opulent lobby to the elevators.
He remembers the floor, the room number, all of it. Remembers when he last stepped into the elevator with Taehyung, the very same one that opens for him now when he presses the button. The same ambient hotel music whistles through the speakers, the same rosewood panels Jeongguk had held Taehyung against and leaned close. He vividly remembers how gorgeous Taehyung had looked that day in his cute silk pajama outfit.
Jeongguk's legs take him to Taehyung's room from a muscle memory that shouldn't exist when he's only walked down these halls once, and drunk. Or twice, really, with the second time being— less pleasant. He figures that maybe it's trauma that has him remembering.
He stops only once he's on the other side of the door. 2413. The hall is quiet, save for the muffled murmur of something that might be a television. It's coming from the very door he's standing behind. Taehyung must still be awake. Maybe working, maybe texting someone else.
None of his business.
Jeongguk knows he'll psych himself out if he hesitates, so he brings his hand down on the door in insistent bangs as soon as he's sure that this is the right room. His heartbeat picks up.
As he's waiting for something to happen, it hits Jeongguk how ironic this is. There he is, showing up at Taehyung's door uninvited to demand things from him, just as that other guy had weeks ago. The worst would be— the worst would be if Taehyung didn't open the door for him, or if Jeongguk found someone else in the room with him when he did. Another of him.
The door opens after a long moment. Taehyung opens it wide, standing barefoot in the doorway in the same all-black ensemble from the bar. His hair is messy and falling over his forehead now, trendy hat gone. He looks so good but Jeongguk reins that thought in, can't keep doing this to himself.
“Jeongguk?” Taehyung's eyes are wide. A small part of the younger takes pleasure in the fact that he's at least surprised to see him. That sets him apart from the others just a little, doesn't it? He catches himself thinking that and gets frustrated.
Jeongguk smacks a hand down against Taehyung's chest, fingers tightly clutching the four 50 thousand won bills. All the words he had planned on saying stay lodged in his throat, a nasty lump obstructing their path. He underestimated how hard this would be. And he still hasn't even said anything.
“—I'm not a–” his voice thins out, unsteady. He's trying so hard not to cry it gets hard to breathe, let alone speak.
“Hey,” Taehyung sounds a little worried this time, but Jeongguk can't look. A hand curls around Jeongguk's wrist where he still has his fist pressed against the elder’s chest. “Are you alright?”
It belatedly occurs to him that Taehyung might be surprised at more than just his presence. Jeongguk feels like a barely controlled mass of emotions. Some of it must show on the outside.
Taehyung steps back and pulls Jeongguk in with him, the two stumbling together into the hotel room when Jeongguk's feet drag feebly behind. It was the TV that was producing the muffled conversation, a black and white film Jeongguk catches a glimpse of illuminating the unlit living space– it doesn't look like there's anyone else in the room with Taehyung. Jeongguk shouldn't care but he does, he cares.
The front door slams shut with a loud bang behind them, the rattling of the doorframe ringing in the silence. The noise snaps Jeongguk back to reality.
“Take your fucking money back, I don't— I don't want your money,” he wheezes, energized, unfurling his fingers from the bills and wrestling his arm out of Taehyung's warm grip. The money drops at their feet and Jeongguk glares at Taehyung, unmoving in the entryway. Standing in his room was never part of the plan but there's still more he has to say before he can leave.
“Should you really be giving away product like that?” Taehyung shoots back, the room too dark without the hallway light to let Jeongguk accurately gauge his expression. He hears something in his voice, though, real emotion Taehyung doesn't always let him see. “Your manager's going to know when he takes inventory, I don't want you getting in trouble for me.”
“Like you care,” Jeongguk snaps back resentfully. It feels awful to acknowledge it out loud. “Like you'd give a fuck if I got in trouble. You don't give a shit about me.”
“That—” Taehyung flinches back. “That's not true.” He sounds hurt at the accusation somehow, but Jeongguk really has to stop trying to see into the stuff he does.
“It is,” he grits. “You keep stringing me along, keep, keep– k-keep making me like you.”
Admitting this much makes Jeongguk feel too vulnerable all at once and he stutters, his grip on his anger slipping. Taehyung watches him with a grimace, chin wrinkled up and bottom lip tucked in like someone who could suddenly burst into tears, too. It's hard to feel anger when he looks like that, but Jeongguk desperately tries to hold onto it because if he doesn't have anger he has only hurt to keep him going, and hurt is what will eventually lead him to tears. Those are for later, for when he's alone in his bedroom, preferably.
“You have to stop,” Jeongguk continues, voice inching higher as it becomes increasingly obvious to him how much he needs this, needs to put some distance between him and Taehyung as soon as possible. Before his crush develops any further— “Stop coming to the bar, I don't want to see you. It's all so much worse when I see you.” He trails off and drops his face in a hand because he feels like he really is about to cry.
This is around when he should be leaving.
But Taehyung moves in and grabs Jeongguk by the forearm. Jeongguk throws that arm aside to yank it from him with a mean strength but Taehyung just clings on tighter, gets his whole lightweight body jerked to the side instead of just letting go. He's doing it again, sending mixed signals and leading Jeongguk on, keeping him stuck in this perpetual cycle of useless pining.
“Get off,” Jeongguk growls, shoving at Taehyung's shoulder with his free hand when the guy just steps closer in the dark. Of all times he's wanted Taehyung to touch him, this is when he finally decides to do it. It's infuriating. “Let go of me!”
Jeongguk shoves Taehyung back too hard and Taehyung gets knocked back against a wall, air rushing from his lungs. It's not too hard a hit but it's a scary thing, Jeongguk seeing himself forcefully smack him away. He gasps, an apology flying from his lips even as Taehyung reaches out and pulls him closer with a hand behind his neck. He pulls Jeongguk in and curls a hand over his tense shoulder.
“It's okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, deep voice low and hushed like someone trying to calm a scared pet. Jeongguk trembles in shock— at how he'd just lost it, at how tender Taehyung is, at how much he loves the feeling of being held by him. He eventually snakes an arm around Taehyung and Taehyung slides his hand into his hair, fingers threading through and lingering.
“Did you hit your head?”
“I'm alright, darling,” Taehyung repeats.
Jeongguk doesn't get the chance to say anything else before Taehyung is enveloping him in a deeper hug. They're about the same height but he tugs the younger down by the back of the head, sliding his other arm around Jeongguk's shoulders to hold him against him on the wall. Jeongguk goes, yielding, and hunches over Taehyung's body to tuck his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Taehyung smells of perfume and cigarettes, a spicy blend that feels both familiar and unique all at once. His body is so warm on his and his hair is longish at the back, tickling Jeongguk's temple. Jeongguk shudders against him, slipping a second arm around the other's slender torso so he's holding him as close as physically possible. He likes him so much.
“I read you all wrong, didn't I?”
Jeongguk's brows furrow, sniffle muffled on the collar of Taehyung's damp turtleneck. “...what?” he asks, voice subdued.
Instead of answering Taehyung slides a hand down Jeongguk's jaw, patiently cradling the side of his wet cheek until the younger reluctantly lifts his head from the warmth of his shoulder. His eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see that Taehyung has lines between his eyebrows, a sad smile on his lips. Jeongguk wants to ask what's wrong but Taehyung curls his fingers under his chin and tugs his face closer still, slips his eyes shut when he connects their lips.
Air rushes from Jeongguk's lungs in a muffled hum of surprise. Taehyung is kissing him, a warm mould of lips until Jeongguk's part and a wet tongue slips past them. Suddenly he's there, against him and around him and inside. His breath is sweet and alcoholic, dessert wine, and he works his mouth against Jeongguk's in a way that insists he keep up, makes it seem like their first kiss was just a trial. This time Jeongguk isn't kissing, he's getting kissed. There's a difference, somehow. This is how it feels to get kissed by Kim Taehyung.
He kisses slower than Jeongguk but more thorough, tongue coaxing and prodding, insistent and impossible to ignore. It’s sexy, that confidence. Kissing always felt like preamble, but this feels like the whole meal. Jeongguk drops his hands to Taehyung's hips, but Taehyung's hand never moves from his face, keeping him tame and languid. It seems to grow heavier the longer they kiss, the pressure of the fingers vaguely increasing. Then Taehyung pushes his thumb into the soft of Jeongguk's tacky cheek, rubbing tight circles on the bouncy flesh until Jeongguk feels weak in the knees. It's a strange motion, something about it verging on domineering, but Jeongguk likes it so much he feels his body respond.
He pulls his mouth away, lips wet and swollen as he tilts his head back to breathe. Taehyung takes it as invitation to keep exploring lower, his damp mouth following the column of Jeongguk's throat and moving down to his racing pulse. Taehyung's free hand is hooked over Jeongguk's shoulder, kneading the muscle as his soft lips and hot breath skim over his sensitive neck. His hair tickles the side of Jeongguk's jaw again and the sight of his head ducked as he does it— god, it's like stuff out of Jeongguk's dreams.
“Taehyung...” he sighs, squeezing the curve of his hips.
Taehyung stands straight and grabs Jeongguk’s face roughly with his thumb and finger pushed against either cheek. He pulls the boy’s mouth back on his to kiss him again, then drops his hand from under his chin to lay it lower, around the side of Jeongguk's neck. Taehyung pushes them both off the wall, and when Jeongguk startles and tries to break their kiss over getting pushed back, Taehyung bites the younger's bottom lip to keep his mouth close. Taehyung pushes him back against the opposite wall of the entryway and Jeongguk goes with a muffled grunt, back flattening over a keycard holder. Two hands settle heavy over his chest and Jeongguk blinks wet eyelashes, head tipping back against the wall.
“Wanted you like this for so long,” Taehyung murmurs, heels of his palms gliding over Jeongguk's perked nipples deliberately. Jeongguk's mouth falls open soundlessly, brain barely registering the words with how twitchy he's become from all the heavy petting. All he knows is that Taehyung is feeling him up and it’s so nice.
Taehyung watches his face in the dark for a long moment before he sinks to his knees in front of Jeongguk. He drops his head forward to blink down at him and watches Taehyung lay a hand over his stomach, pushing his black shirt up and exposing skin taut over muscle. Taehyung grabs Jeongguk's hip in his free hand and wrenches his lower half off the wall. Jeongguk slumps lower at an angle, crotch presented to Taehyung, cock pressed against the fly. When the elder ducks and closes a wet mouth around his navel, Jeongguk moans breathily. Taehyung seems to like the sound, stroking the top of his abs with the rolled up shirt as he continues to mouth the dip of his belly button. Goosebumps flee across Jeongguk's arms and legs.
“Oh...” It’s so hot in his jacket he thinks he might combust. He's never been handled like this, yanked around and felt up with wide, sure hands. The feeling is dizzying.
Taehyung's mouth travels lower, breath hot and mouth wet on the edge of Jeongguk's jeans when his chin comes to a stop against the buckle of his belt. Taehyung keeps holding up Jeongguk's shirt as he slips his other hand to front of his pants. He kneads over the younger’s erection slowly, rubbing it with his palm and fingers through the thick denim. Jeongguk's head thunks against the wall when he drops it back with another airy, high moan.
“I love the sound of your voice,” Taehyung murmurs as he starts to tug the leather of Jeongguk's belt from the loops in the jeans, pushing delicious pressure into his hips as he works the buckle loose. He tosses it aside when he's done, belt dropping with a muffled thump on the carpet by a pile Taehyung's clothes. Jeongguk's so dazed it's taking him longer than usual to process what's happening. It takes Taehyung's fingers dexterously opening the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper, the fleeting pressure of the metal dragging over his swollen dick through his boxers.
“Tae—” Jeongguk drops a hand over his own crotch, clothed arm over the damp patch on the gray cotton. “What are you doing?”
“I want you,” Taehyung responds, lightly pushing Jeongguk's limp arm out of the way, tugging his jeans down to his knees to bring his mouth to the tent in Jeongguk's underwear. He wraps his lips around the top and sucks at the wet head of his cock through the fabric and Jeongguk whimpers, shuddering and slouching against the wall again. “Good boy,” he hears the thick whisper from below, Taehyung's voice thrumming around his dick and ripping another noise from Jeongguk's throat.
Jeongguk finds it hard to grasp what's happening. He'd come for something else entirely, but now Taehyung is on his knees with his mouth on his dick and he doesn't want him to stop. This is what he wanted, this– Taehyung. He did like him, after all.
“What are you thinking?” Taehyung inches back from Jeongguk's crotch to ask, long fingers caressing the damp patch he was sucking on. Jeongguk's thighs tremble.
“I'm thinking– you’re good with your hands.”
Taehyung’s chuckle is deep when he pushes his thumb under the head of Jeongguk's cock, gently massaging the glans through the boxers as he watches Jeongguk choke on a moan.
They stop talking, then.
Taehyung hooks both hands into the waistband of the underwear, easing it down Jeongguk's thighs as he remains eye-level with his crotch. Jeongguk's cock springs free and curls up, Taehyung’s hand closing around it firmly before he brings his mouth in. Jeongguk’s hand flies to Taehyung's head, fingers curling into that brown hair– it really is as soft as he had imagined.
The keycard light switch digs into Jeongguk's back as Taehyung sucks him off in the dark room, black and white film still playing in the background.
hello to everyone who's been with me from the beginning and to ppl just joining us!!
as always, thanks for the kudos and comments-- i love hearing your feedback!