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out the window

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It starts like this:


"Oh," says Taehyung, leaning halfway out of the second-story window. Jimin's hand is clenched in the back of his uniform blazer to prevent him from actually falling a million feet and breaking his face. "Uh. Shit."


Min Yoongi is drenched. He looks up slowly, slowly, slowly. His hair is covered in pink gloop. One of his eyes is closed against the terrible, viscous drip of yogurt.


"Ohhh, shit," Taehyung squeaks. "Oh my god?"


"What? What's going on? Did you get him?" Jimin asks eagerly. "Did you get a picture?"


"Jiminie," says Taehyung, and like, feels the life force draining out of him as Min Yoongi spots him hanging out of the window and makes eye contact.  His shitty phone slides out of his grip. He waits a few beats until he hears the sickening clack-crack-crunch as it hits the ground. "Love of my life, pull me in. Pull me in now. Oh my god. I can't feel my spleen. We're going to die."


"Can you normally feel your spleen?" Jimin mumbles, but yanks Taehyung inside. "Why are we going to die? Did you get Jeongguk? Is he coming after us?"


"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Taehyung slides down the wall. His knees are shaky and his fingertips tingle. "No, uh. I... Well. I guess I miscalculated the trajectory. Wind and shit. Gravity. Aerodynamics of a bottle of lumpy-bad drinkable strawberry yogurt."




"And," says Taehyung, flatly cheerful, "I hit Min Yoongi instead."


There's a silence. Jimin gapes for a long moment, then puts his hands on his hips and exhales.


"Cool," he says eventually. "So. What kind of flowers are we getting for your funeral?"




Min Yoongi gets really good grades, plays pickup games with the basketball team, is friends with half the student council, and wins major piano competitions.


Min Yoongi also cuts class, vandalizes the tennis team's clubroom frequently, swears at the other half of the student council, dyes his hair green and pink and silver, and smokes behind the maintenance shed.


Min Yoongi is an honors student who also happens to lead the school's weird three-person gang of delinquents.


Taehyung is in love.




Taehyung doesn't even bother running for his life.


"It's okay, Jimin-ah, my love," Taehyung croaks. He's getting pretty good at imitating a death-rattle. He's definitely beating Do Kyungsoo out for the lead in the next school play. Definitely. "Go on without me, darling!"


"You're a fucking weirdo!" Jimin shouts back as he bolts down the hallway. He's lucky there aren't any teachers hanging around, or that'd definitely be a detention. Jimin can't afford any more detentions for foul language. He's got to keep under the term detention limit to stay on the dance team. "I'll find your phone, okay? And dinner at mine tonight! Love you!"


Taehyung beams and waves at Jimin's departing back. He has the best friend.


"You're not going to say it back?"


Taehyung, like. Squeaks.


Min Yoongi leans against the wall by the staircase, arms crossed. He'd probably look intimidating if he didn't still have yogurt gloop on his unbuttoned blazer or in his hair. It's off his face, though, which is good. Taehyung likes his face.


"It might be the last time you ever get to say it to him," Yoongi points out, and pushes away from the wall. He uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in his pockets as he saunters over to Taehyung.


"That's pretty ominous, hyung," says Taehyung, because he has no self-preservation instincts. "You missed a spot, you know. Like... all over your head."


Yoongi's eyebrows go way up as he drops down next to Taehyung. "I'm about to murder you, and you're being a little shit? And who said you could call me hyung?"


"I have literally no answer to that," Taehyung replies cheerfully. "Hey, you're wearing your outdoor shoes."


Yoongi snorts. "No shit. Why the fuck would I take the time to change when I have brats to discipline?"


"Ooh. Makes sense! You did get up here surprisingly fast, snail boy."


Yoongi exhales deeply, exasperatedly, and grabs Taehyung by the hair. "Come on, dipshit. Murder time."




So, like. The murder could be worse.


"This murder could be worse," Taehyung says aloud, because, well: it really could be.


"Do you ever shut up?" Min Yoongi asks, but he doesn't sound too pissed about it. "I can shave off your other eyebrow if you like."


"It'd make me more symmetrical," replies Taehyung. "Also, my scalp is kind of burning."


"Bleach will do that!" Jung Hoseok pipes up from the other side of the vandalized tennis clubhouse. He's spraypainting fuck you, capitalist asshats in green across the freshly-painted lockers. "Hey, Joon-ah! You finished yet?"


Kim Namjoon grunts. "I'm drawing dicks on every single tennis ball in the bin. There're fucking... a thousand in here. What do you think?"


Taehyung barely catches a glimpse of a bright grin, all gums and teeth, when Yoongi smack-pats his cheek to make Taehyung look back at him. It's gone in a flash, though.


"Showers're over there. Wash out the bleach."


Taehyung heaves a sigh and lopes off to do it. It's weird and he gets his uniform wet, but his scalp calms down a little.


"You could've taken off the uniform," Yoongi says when he trudges back. He's got another box in his hands, but Taehyung can't quite see the color.


"Hyung," Taehyung says, because he truly can't stop himself around Yoongi, "if you want me to strip for you, you just have to ask, you know? I'm down for it. Or up for it? Whatever you want me to be!"




The whoosh of the aerosol stops. The scritch of the marker stops. The rustling of the box stops.


"Holy shit," says Namjoon, and then there's a crash as Hoseok laughs so hard he collapses into the lockers.




"So," Hoseok asks while the color in Taehyung's hair is developing and Yoongi is in the showers getting the last of the yogurt out. "Who the fuck even are you?"


"Kim Taehyung," Taehyung chirps, because really. It's about time someone asked.


Namjoon looks up from the tennis balls and squints over the sunglasses perched on his nose. Taehyung wonders if he has light sensitivity or something, because it's really not very bright in the clubhouse.


"Why is that name so familiar?" he hears Namjoon mutter to himself as he goes back to drawing dicks. Taehyung shrugs.


"Okay, Kim Taehyung." Hoseok has a shit-eating grin on. "Why'd you dump expired strawberry milk on our beautiful Yoongi-hyung? What'd he do?"


Taehyung pouts. "It was yogurt."


"Like I said: expired strawberry milk," Hoseok says flatly. "Tell me! Did he break your heart? Beat you in pickup? What?"


"No, nothing like—I didn't mean to? I was aiming for Jeongguk." Taehyung winces. "You know Jeon Jeongguk?"


Hoseok makes a face. It's both fond and annoyed. "Who the hell doesn't know Jeon Jeongguk? Golden boy. Little shit. Followed Yoongi-hyung around for weeks until—"


Namjoon clears his throat loudly and Hoseok cuts himself off.


"Anyway. Yes, we know Jeon Jeongguk."


Taehyung looks between them. It's weird. Suspicious. He thinks he knows when Jeongguk stopped following Yoongi, though.


(It was right around the time he started following Jimin instead.)


"Right..." He looks between them again. "Uh, anyway. I was getting revenge on him for making my Jiminie sad? I put eggs in his shoes. Except that then he figured out it was me, and he got revenge, but then I got revenge, and, uh. It escalated. Immaturely. We're in a prank war. I was aiming for him but the nature of the universe is the destruction of life, so. It hit Yoongi-hyung instead."


"Huh," says Hoseok after a long minute of silence. "Who's Jiminie?"


Taehyung smiles slow and wide and spends the next ten minutes explaining.




Taehyung is washing out the rest of the dye in his hair when he hears Namjoon's squawk of dismay and Hoseok's crashing and flailing and Yoongi's low swearing.


He grins.




"Ah, Taehyungie," Seokjin sighs when Taehyung finally gets out of the shower, hair dripping onto the towel over his shoulders. "Only you."


Seokjin is lounging in a plastic chair like it's a throne, and honestly, it might as well be. Even sprawled out and ruffled, with a couple of tiny splashes of blood along the hem of his jacket, he looks regal. Namjoon and Hoseok and Yoongi stand in a line beside him, shifting uncomfortably on their feet.


"Hey, hyung," Taehyung replies, and carefully rubs the towel over his head. "'Sup? Back from collecting debts and breaking kneecaps, huh?"


Hoseok makes a whale noise in the back of his throat.


"You're missing an eyebrow," Seokjin notes. "And your hair is half pink. I'm pretty sure Mom didn't let you out of the house like that this morning."


"Nope!" Taehyung beams. "But I think it's kinda cute. Yoongi-hyung did a good job."


"The eyebrow is not cute," Seokjin says sternly, but there's a twitch to the corners of his lips.


"I was talking about the hair, but I could make the eyebrow cute!"


"I really, really don't think so," Seokjin says, but Taehyung isn't listening because he's trying to catch whatever Yoongi is mumbling to himself.


"Oh my god," Namjoon hisses, and elbows Yoongi, who makes a face. "Shut up, he's Kim Seokjin's little brother!"


"Tell me!" Taehyung bounds over. "What'd he say? What'd you say? I think I heard part of it, but..."


Yoongi glares at the ground. He has his hands in his pockets again.


"Ahh, you're really so cute," Taehyung mumbles, and reaches for the lapels of Yoongi's open blazer. "Are you shy now because my brother's here? Jin-hyung is a puppy, really. He only kills people if they fuck around and steal drugs or take money or betray the Family."


"Yah, Tae!"


"Come on, Yoongi-hyung, tell me." Taehyung takes a step closer, until they're toe-to-toe, and leans in until his forehead presses against Yoongi's. Seokjin makes an exasperated noise. "Did you say I'd be cute no matter what?"


Yoongi's mouth twists and his nose wrinkles. "Shut up. Are you seriously going to do this here? In front of a bunch of tennis balls with dicks on them and your gangster big brother's henchmen outside?"


Taehyung shrugs and smiles. "Sure. Why not?"


"Oh my god," Namjoon says. Hoseok kicks him. Seokjin sighs.


"You fucking—" Yoongi purses his lips and grabs the front of Taehyung's uniform shirt. "Why can't you just leave a love letter in someone's shoe locker or come out at family dinner like a normal human? Why is it always dramatic shit like this?"


"Dunno," Taehyung says, tipping his head to the side. "Hey, hyung, do you love me? You wanna kiss me?"


"Oh my god," Namjoon says, and it sounds strangled. Hoseok is making whale noises again. Seokjin has his face in his hands.


"I fucking hate you," Yoongi replies. "I've been kissing you behind the maintenance shed for six months, you little shit."


"Did you seriously stage being bullied and kidnapped just to come out about your delinquent secret boyfriend?" Seokjin finally bursts out. "Seriously, Tae? Tae!"


Taehyung ignores him, and Namjoon, and Hoseok, and Jimin and Jeongguk peeking through the clubhouse window.


"I fucking hate you," Yoongi says again, and kisses him hard.




(Yoongi's uniform never quite loses the strawberry yogurt smell.


Taehyung loves it.)