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It’s still raining when he wakes up.
His eyes take too long to get used to the darkness of the room. Taehyung shifts on the bed, trying to regain control over his limbs. He isn’t drunk anymore, he doesn’t think he is. He might be if the way his vision blurred when he moved is any indication. He can’t believe he knocked on Jimin’s door at two in the morning. Jesus, he will never drink again – at least not when he’s sad or hurt or freshly cheated on.
Taehyung sits on the bed. He smells awful– sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke. He doesn’t even smoke. He doesn’t remember having had a cigarette, but he doesn’t remember much of the night, aside from the crying and the drinking. This wasn’t the weekend he had in mind. He came back home from college to find out his boyfriend since high school had been cheating on him. Who could blame him for getting shitfaced at a roadside bar?
God, where the fuck is the light switch in this fucking room? Taehyung shakes his head – oh, bad idea. Now he wants to throw up. He gives up on getting the light on. It’s easier to just leave the bedroom with the lights off. As he walks, his brain works hard to provide him with some excruciatingly shameful moments from the night before: crying against Euisoo’s shoulder, calling his ex-boyfriend and begging for an explanation. Euisoo and Hina dragged him into the train before he could do something embarrassing and unforgettable.
Jesus Christ, Taehyung doesn’t even remember how he got to Jimin’s house, one hundred and forty-eight miles away from the shithole he used to call home. But now he's happy to be away from the small apartment in a cheap building, his high school friends all living together while he was away. He's happy he's got somewhere else to run to – he’ll never go back there.
That town's too small in certain ways, you either know someone or you know someone who knows someone who knows you. Taehyung had never wanted to leave. He had never wanted to leave his band behind, not when that was all he ever wanted to do: play in festivals, win underground competitions. If he had a dream, that band was it. But when you grow up, you grow up. So college was his next big thing and he went.
He did what he needed to do because his friends and his boyfriend were supportive. His boyfriend, who had been the guitarist of Taehyung’s band for as long as the band existed. He told Taehyung to go – get the degree, come back. Easy and simple and a lie. Because Geun had been cheating on him all this time, hadn’t he? Years – years. Probably with different people, at different times throughout their long-distance relationship.
Taehyung had been holding himself back from experiencing college just so he could call Geun every night while Geun was at home, sucking cock. Very cool, very lovely. How hadn’t he realised before? How long had he been willing to pretend that Geun cancelling on him, ignoring his texts and calls – all the cheap excuses, the way he disappeared for days before texting again as if nothing had happened – didn’t mean something?
This — being cheated on, getting hurt like this – isn’t even the worst about the whole thing. But the cheating and all it entails meant the band was over. Taehyung doesn’t need to ask Euisoo, the bassist, and Hina, the drummer, about Geun. They knew. He’s sure off it, and they had never said anything. What kind of friends…? Taehyung gets to the bottom of the stairs. He watches Jimin, quietly.
On the first day that Taehyung moved into campus, he met Park Jimin.
Jimin is a small guy, but his arm strength is out of this world. Taehyung wouldn’t have pegged him as a drummer, but Jimin was actually better than Hina, and that’s saying a lot. He’s pretty in a delicate way – almost as if he’s a doll – and if he looks expensive, that’s because he is. Heir to a filthy fortune, Jimin makes music because he loves it and because he doesn’t have to worry about anything else.
He met Jimin at the campus music club. He had walked in late and hungry, dark brown hair dishevelled as if he’d never learnt how to brush it, and Jimin had smiled at him and offered him half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Eight in the morning and Jimin had a smile on his face, a genuine smile. Taehyung had wanted to hate him, but the sandwich was so fucking good. And then, every day after that, Jimin had waited for him with a sandwich and a shoulder for Taehyung to let his head fall on when his eyes didn’t manage to stay open throughout the meeting. He had been sleeping horribly from staying up too late to call Geun.
Jimin had asked Taehyung if he wanted to get in his band. Back then, Taehyung – naive, stupid – declined. He had his own band, they’d make it work until Taehyung was back in town. That’s cool, Jimin said, you’re welcome to practice with us anytime, though.
Now, he wishes he had accepted the damn offer. He wishes he had cut ties with his high school band before he went away. He wishes a million different things, but he reckons he’s got to live with the choices he made.
“Oh, you’re up,” Jimin says. He looks better with darker hair, Taehyung notices. It’s a good thing he gave up on the blonde. “Feeling better?”
Taehyung makes a vague noise before flopping down on Jimin’s couch.
Jimin says, “Guess not.”
“I’m sorry I stink.”
“It’s fine,” Jimin waves his hand. “You can take a shower if you want.”
“I will,” Taehyung replies. “In a few.”
“Okay.”
Taehyung closes his eyes. “Ask.”
“I’m not gonna ask,” Jimin says. “I’ll wait until you feel like telling me.”
“That might be never,” Taehyung replies. “I might take this to the grave.”
“Doubtful.”
Taehyung doesn’t have the strength to smile, but he would if he could. Jimin is, definitely, his best friend – which is weird, because Taehyung has friends from when he was a child, and yet. And yet, his brain completes, Jimin is the one you always run to. “After I take a shower, then?” He offers.
“Sure,” Jimin smiles. “Hoseok is on his way, so you might want to hurry up and get under the shower already.”
“Fine,” Taehyung says. “Can you lend me your softest clothes?”
Jimin’s eyes are so warm when Taehyung looks into them. “Tae,” Jimin says. “Of course.”
Under the shower, Taehyung cries. Just for a little bit, just to feel a little better. It’s the last time he’s going to cry over Geun, he swears. He’s gonna make sure of it. Once he tells Jimin, he is going to make sure of it. But, right now, he cries. Because it fucking hurts. Because he’s not made of stone. Because he used to love Geun – he doesn’t think he still does. Not after that, maybe not for a long time before that.
But he gave that boy all of himself, all of his firsts and that’s what hurts the most: to know that Geun is part of who he is. To know that the music he makes is directly connected to Geun. He hates it, he hates it so much that the bitterness of it it’s almost enough to make him want to forget all about music – almost. In reality, nothing could take music away from Taehyung. Music is a bigger part of who Taehyung is than Geun ever was.
So he steps out of the shower, dries his hair with Jimin’s white fluff towel. He puts on Jimin’s softest clothes, the ones that are two numbers smaller than his size. He looks at his reflection, but his cheeks are flushed with shame, so he looks away. When he’s on his way downstairs again, he hears Hoseok’s voice coming from the kitchen.
“If it’s something his bitchy boyfriend did, I swear–”
“Don’t say bitchy–” Jimin interrupts.
“Context matters, Jimin, I’m not being sexist–”
“The word carries the same weight regardless of context–”
Taehyung stops at the kitchen threshold. “Jesus, it’s like I’m in my Women’s Studies class.”
Hoseok looks at him. “I brought pizza.”
Jung Hoseok thinks like a dad – meaning, he tries to behave like a dad. He’s like an older brother, mostly. Taehyung thinks Hoseok simply refuses to grow up too much. He’s tall and lean and a great bassist, but he was supposed to be out of here already. He’s not rich like Jimin or well off enough like Taehyung to make music and not worry about his income, so he works a hundred different part-time jobs. The music Hoseok makes is honest, though. Raw, true.
He often crashes at Jimin’s place and, at this point, Taehyung suspects the only reason he hasn’t moved in already is his pride. He’s got way too much pride, Taehyung thinks. Too much pride for someone with such good friends.
“How did you get pizza,” Taehyung glances at the clock on top of the fridge. “At half-past five in the morning?”
“I got a new job,” Hoseok shrugs. “Pays better than the waiter thing I had going on. And I get an employer's discount.”
Jimin frowns. “You work too much.”
“Somes of us live that way our entire lives,” Hoseok teases. “Not that I’d expect you to know that.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”
Taehyung watches them for a minute. The thing about Jimin and Taehyung is that their friendship was easy, obvious. Of course Jimin and Taehyung are friends – how could they not be? Hoseok is weirder to grasp, but still understandable. Older than the both of them, wearing tank tops and snapbacks, he clashed immensely with Jimin’s Chanel boots and Taehyung’s baggy clothes, but he fit. Simple as that. He had a big smile, and that was the thing about Taehyung’s friends, wasn't it? Their smiles. Their warmth.
But there was also Jungkook, the vocalist and the guitarist. He was a vital piece of the band, always dressed in all black, glancing at Taehyung with disdain. He could be warm and docile to Jimin and Hoseok but was nothing but a big, cold stone wall to Taehyung. Jungkook was a mystery, an enigma. He clearly didn’t want Taehyung in their band practice, or their friend group at all – but he was outnumbered, so he resigned himself, which doesn’t mean he made it easy for Taehyung to be there. The sharp stare, the harsh curve of his mouth whenever he looked at Taehyung. The distance he put in between them. And that was horrible at first because it sucks to feel unwanted. But Jimin and Hoseok made up for it, and Taehyung learnt to deal with Jungkook’s childish one-sided feud.
Jimin puts a plate in front of him – two slices of pepperoni pizza on it. “You’ve slept, you’ve showered and now you’re eating.”
“Am I supposed to tip you?” He asks.
Jimin pulls a face. “Out with it.”
“I thought you wouldn’t ask.”
“But I will,” Hoseok says. He crosses his arms as he leans into the kitchen counter. “What happened? You weren’t supposed to come back until tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, well,” He says, bitterly. “I wasn’t supposed to get there early enough to catch my boyfriend fucking another guy but that happened, so.”
There’s an agonizing silence for a very long minute before Hoseok opens his mouth and lets out twenty different cusses that Taehyung didn’t even know existed in the Korean language. Jimin stifles a laugh before he fully understands Taehyung’s words. “What?”
Taehyung nods. “Got him with his dick in the hole. Literally.”
“Oh my God,” Jimin says. “Are you fucking joking? Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Okay, I’ve never heard you sound that mad.”
“Isn’t this a very good reason to be fucking mad?” Hoseok says. “That bitchy boy is so lucky he’s miles away from us, I swear to God–”
“Fetch me my phone I’ll book us a flight right now, we’ll get him–” Jimin interrupts.
“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “What are you gonna do? Bite his knee?”
“I might!”
“And we all know Hoseok hyung can’t hurt a fly, who are we kidding?”
“I don’t condone violence, but this is an exception,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms on his chest. “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”
“It’s not worth it,” Taehyung says. “ He ’s not worth it.”
Jimin sighs. “You’re right,” He comes to stand behind Taehyung, lays his head in between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Taehyung shrugs and feels as Jimin’s cheek rubs against him. “This happens to people all the time.”
“Never happened to me,” Hoseok says. Taehyung is sure Jimin sends him a very sharp look because Hoseok splutters an apology and adds, “It shouldn’t happen to nice people.”
“I know,” Taehyung says. “Maybe I’m not good enough to not get cheated on.”
“Shut up,” Jimin says. “You’re not the issue here. And if I’m being honest–”
“You never liked him, did you?” Taehyung asks, smiling a little.
Hoseok giggles. “None of us did.”
“We only saw him when you guys were on Facetime so it’s not like we know him, but... God, he was not enough for you. He wasn’t pretty enough to be with you, smart enough to talk to you, talented enough to play with you. He was mediocre, bland. Faceless. Nasty. I never felt the truth in his eyes.”
“Jimin, holy shit, you know how to be mean.”
He laughs. “I do.”
“You never told me any of this.”
“Of course not,” He says. “You chose him, didn’t you? And you were with him before I even knew you.”
“I made a bad choice.”
“We all make bad choices in life,” Hoseok says. He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“It is,” Taehyung nods. “I’ll be fine.”
“You will,” Jimin presses his nose on Taehyung’s nape. “I’m so sorry.”
Hoseok reaches for his hand across the counter. “Me too.”
“I know.”
They don’t need to say much else. But Jimin and Hoseok don’t let go of him for a while.
Taehyung skips his seven am class on Monday. And he doesn’t feel like getting up from Jimin’s guest bed to walk two blocks to the subway station to get to his nine am class, he doesn't. He stays in bed – warm and comfortable and with his phone turned off. Jimin has classes until early afternoon and Hoseok is busy with his job at the convenience store after class.
He's alone. He wishes for a company with the same ardency that he wants to keep himself isolated. Jimin's house is so big, the guest room feels like a palace. Taehyung can do anything he wants here. There's a library – filled with books from the ceiling to the floor –, the playroom – with all the games he likes to play and much more –, the pool – huge and with water so, so clear –, the music room – with all kinds of instruments that he suspects Jimin doesn’t even know to play – and still he’s in the bed. He looks at the ceiling, shifts, thinks about turning on his phone but decides against it.
Being cheated on fucking sucks.
Taehyung doesn’t get to linger on his anger too much because the doorbell rings. He feels at home here, but he wishes he could pretend to be a guest who can’t open a door. He pouts, finding his way downstairs with messy bed hair. Taehyung tries to comb his hair with his fingers as he opens the door.
He needn’t have to worry, though. It’s just Jungkook.
“Oh,” Jungkook says. "You're back early."
And he sounds so disappointed. "Sorry?"
Jungkook shakes his head. "Right, that's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant."
Jungkook grimaces. "Is Jimin hyung home?"
"No," Taehyung crosses his arms. "He's got class the whole morning."
"Aw," Jungkook whines. "Well then, bye."
Taehyung is hurt and grieving the death of his relationship so he'll allow himself some fun. "Hey, Jungkook," He starts. "Why the fuck do you hate me?"
Jungkook stares at him. "What?"
"Come on, tell me," He leans against the door. "You can't stand me, right? I wanna know why."
"I don't– That's not– What?"
Taehyung laughs. "Right, never mind. You can ring Jimin on his phone later if you wanna. Bye." He slams the door closed.
He doesn’t get too far, though. Jungkook knocks again. Taehyung entertains the idea of just… not opening the door. But he’s not that petty.
“Don’t say shit like that,” Jungkook says as soon as the door is open.
“Why? Because you don’t want the others to know?”
“Because it’s not true.”
Taehyung scoffs. He walks into the house, hearing the soft click of the door as Jungkook closes it behind himself.
“Right.”
“It’s not,” He repeats. “I just–”
“Can’t look at me without wanting to vomit?”
“No.”
Taehyung sits on the couch, draws his legs closer and looks at Jungkook, one eyebrow raised. “I do feel that way, though.”
“Like I hate you?”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook laughs – it’s a short laugh, surprises even himself. He schools his expression back into a blank look. Taehyung observes him. Jungkook is, if he ignores everything else, a nice person. He’s too sharp around the edges, but that’s probably how he is around Taehyung. He’s a bright kid, hardworking and very, very talented. With all that natural talent he doesn’t need to push himself so hard, but he does. He is attentive, considerate. Some people might call him cute. Not Taehyung, of course, but some people.
Jungkook is a genius. He’s got an easy way with composition, an even easier way with playing. Music comes naturally to him as if that’s what he’s got running through his veins. He’s daring and his potential seems limitless. Taehyung would never say any of these things aloud, not even to Jimin. Because even if Jungkook is all that, he’s still cold and distant.
“I don’t,” Jungkook says. He stares at the couch. It’s big enough for them both to sit without touching, but the idea of sitting next to Taehyung seems to make his mood sour. Taehyung frowns, and Jungkook opens his mouth again. “I am just… very protective of my friends.”
“They are my friends too.”
“But they weren’t, at first,” He replies, eyes still glued to the damn couch. Jungkook bites his bottom lip and glances at Taehyung very quickly before sitting down, Far away from him. Idiot, Taehyung thinks. “I was just wary.”
“Okay, at first… And now?”
“Now what?”
“Nothing changed?”
“Do you need me to like you or something?”
“No,” Taehyung says, softly. “I just don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. I don’t do well with negative emotions.”
“Even if they aren’t yours?”
“Yeah,” He shrugs.
“I don’t hate you, Taehyung.”
Taehyung frowns again. “Okay.”
“You know,” Jungkook starts. “Maybe I did at first. Because you were new and obnoxiously loud when we were getting ready for practice. And because you were at our practice. You were watching us, probably comparing us to your band back home. What was your business being there? It’s my band, too. No one asked me if I was okay with the audience, the company.”
It’s the most Jungkook has ever said to him in one go. Taehyung blinks.
Jungkook continues, “And you started showing up every practice. Running around our studio, suggesting things. Helping my friends out with our music. That was my space and I didn’t know you, but there you were.”
“Jungkook–”
“But I got used to it. To you. I don’t mind that anymore. I just– don’t know what to do with the distance. It's been there since the beginning,” He shrugs. “I just left it as it was.”
Taehyung presses his lips together. “My boyfriend cheated on me,” He says. “And he was the guitarist of my band.”
Jungkook looks at him. Taehyung adds, “He had been cheating on me for months. Maybe the entire time. Who knows?”
“Holy shit,” Jungkook says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s–” He stops. It is what? Fine? Taehyung’s heart feels heavy inside his chest. “It really sucks.”
“I can’t imagine– I mean, I’ve never had a boyfriend,” He laughs. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say.”
“It's okay, you don’t have to say anything. It won't change the fact that I was lied to and cheated on, so why bother? Jesus, that’s pathetic, right? I’m not even sad because I loved him. I don’t think I loved him anymore, but I wouldn’t cheat on him. You know? I wouldn’t do that– but he did and he made me feel pathetic.”
“I don’t think you are pathetic. You are everything but pathetic.”
Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. “I sure feel that way.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jungkook says. “That someone was evil enough to take your feelings for granted like that. It doesn’t say anything about who you are, but it says a lot about who he is. I think he’s the pathetic one.”
Taehyung looks at him. “Thanks, Jungkook. That was very nice and… mature.”
Jungkook blushes. He had never done that before, not upon hearing Taehyung’s words – and this wasn’t even the first time Taehyung complimented him. He throws compliments at Jungkook all the time when they are practising. But he never noticed if Jungkook blushed under them.
“Thanks,” He says. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you tell me all that?”
Taehyung smiles. “You said you didn’t know what to do with the distance. I took the first step.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says. “In this case, thank you. For trusting me.”
“I think we should be friends,” Taehyung says. “I told you I don’t do well with negative emotions.”
“So you have,” Jungkook smiles a little. “I think we should be friends too.”
Taehyung offers him his hand. Jungkook looks at it for a second too long before he sighs and reaches for it – his hand is warm, softer than Taehyung has ever felt a guitarist’s hand be.
“Good,” He says when Jungkook lets go. “That’s pretty good.”
Jimin squints, gaze finding Taehyung with astounding ease. “Did you– did you just get off Jungkook’s motorcycle?”
Taehyung blinks. He turns his head to watch as Jungkook drives into the garage to park his motorcycle. “Yeah?”
Jimin crosses his arms, one drumstick on each hand. “Oh, really?”
The thing is, Taehyung thinks, it’s actually pretty easy to be Jungkook’s friend. Since that fateful day at Jimin’s house, perhaps a week or so ago, Taehyung has been trying to reach out, to make things work better in between them. Jungkook is trying, too.
Taehyung had been startled, of course, to find Jungkook leaning against his motorcycle just next to the entry of the subway station. Jungkook had silently offered him the helmet. Taehyung clung to his jacket so tight that for a second he'd been scared Jungkook would take back the offer. He doesn’t. And they didn't really talk – not before, not during or after the ride. He didn’t know why Jungkook was there, but he didn’t care. The fact is that he was there and because of that Taehyung wouldn’t be late.
Their connection is delicate because it’s new, but it’s a connection that could – would, in the future, probably – run deeper than this. So Taehyung is holding Jungkook’s spare helmet and Jimin is staring at it. “He offered me a ride.”
“He did?”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You sound so damn surprised.”
“Of course I am surprised. You guys didn’t even talk a week ago. Now he’s offering you rides?”
“I don’t like your tone.”
Jimin smiles. “It’s a perfectly fine tone.”
“I could buy that if I didn’t know you.”
“Okay. So you know me. What does my tone imply?”
Taehyung rests the helmet against his hip. “That you’re thinking naughty things.”
Jimin scoffs. “I’d never–”
“I feel like I should remind you that I ended a relationship very recently and that I’ve been cheated on and that’s probably gonna keep me off the market for a long time.”
Jimin straightens his posture. “I know that.”
“Besides,” Taehyung adds. “Jungkook wouldn’t be an option, like, ever.”
“Not your type?”
Taehyung shakes his head. “Too close for comfort.”
Jimin nods. “Yeah,” He says, but he seems to be thinking of something else. “I get that.”
Jungkook jogs over to their side, placing the black leather necklace to which his motorbike key is attached around his neck. He’d taken off his jacket, Taehyung notices, the piece of clothing now hanging around his hips, tied at the sleeves.
“Is Hoseok hyung at the studio already?” He asks. “Why are you both still here? Come on, up we go.”
“We were talking,” Jimin says. “That’s what friends do.”
Jungkook waves his hand. “But we need to practice. That’s what a band does.”
“You need to learn how to respect your elders.”
“I will respect you when you stop wearing Chanel boots.”
“I’m gay, Jungkook, I can’t stop wearing Chanel boots.”
Taehyung snorts, following Jimin and Jungkook through the corridor that leads them to the elevator. In the beginning, they used to practice at Jimin’s house, but the neighbourhood was too classy and stuck up to let a bunch of college kids make noise without complaining. So Jimin had to rent a studio in a more welcoming neighbourhood.
The streets around the building where their studio is located are packed with music stores, stalls selling vintage albums, guitar strings and everything else. It’s a famously old musical setting. Back in high school, Taehyung used to practice with Geun, Euisoo and Hina at Hina’s house. She lived alone with her dad – the old man was the kind of dad that didn’t know how to be a girl’s dad so he let her do whatever it was she wanted as long as she kept the good grades – it wasn’t ideal, but it was enough. Even at Jimin’s house, Taehyung was exposed to a lot more technology and quality than back at Hina’s garage.
He fixes his hair on the elevator’s mirror. The helmet made it stick weirdly to his head. The studio is big, with good lighting and an enormous glass window that always makes Taehyung's stomach flutter. He loves to strum his guitar looking out the window – the studio is on the tenth floor, and everything looks so small from up there.
Taehyung is not part of the band. He realises he talks about the studio and the practice as “theirs”, he knows he does – but he’s not part of the band. He doesn’t have a band anymore, he reminds himself. This is not his place. As the elevator door opens, revealing the door to their studio, Taehyung starts to feel as if his presence is a disturbance. Now that he doesn’t have a band anymore, why does he need to practice? Suddenly everything Jungkook said about him taking too much in a space that didn’t belong to him makes complete sense.
Jimin pushes the door open and Jungkook follows him into the studio. Taehyung stops at the doorway, but Hoseok is already smiling at him. He doesn’t know why he feels like that. It’s weird. He’s never felt like a liability before, not even when Jungkook had the cold stare glued to Taehyung’s side profile, so why now?
His electric guitar is here. On the stand next to Jungkook’s guitar and Hoseok’s bass. Hoseok pushes a stool in his direction when he doesn't move. "Earth to Taehyung, man, what's up? Didn't sleep well?"
"He hasn't been in his morning classes at all," Jimin says, frowning. "I bet he's sleeping just fine."
"I'm taking a sabbatical leave," Taehyung replies, finally stepping inside the studio, closing the door behind him. He sits on the stool next to Hoseok and reaches for his guitar. He doesn't remember having tuned it in a long while. "But I'll be back tomorrow, I think. That's the plan."
Jimin hums.
"So you came straight here from your house?" Hoseok asks.
"Yeah."
Jungkook, voice muffled by the guitar pick he's holding between his teeth, says, "I gave him a ride."
"That's a fucking long way from where you live," Hoseok says. "Were you around?"
Jungkook nods his head, plugging his guitar into the amplifier. He adjusts the volume before looking at Hoseok. "Are we gonna play or...?"
Hoseok squints at him. "Sure."
They start without him – because he's not in the band. Taehyung tunes his guitar and watches as Jungkook fixes his strap on his shoulder. The sound of Jungkook's guitar echoes through him on his first chord.
Jungkook places his index finger on the fifth string and Taehyung knows, automatically, what he's going to play. It's one of the first songs Taehyung has ever learnt on guitar, possibly the first song for every person who went through youtube videos on how to play the guitar at two in the morning. He moves his finger from the seventh to the tenth fret smoothly, following Jungkook's lead.
They go to the seventh, fifth, third and second fret and their sound reverberates as one. Seven Nation Army is such a fun song to play. Hoseok has so much fun playing a real bass, instead of the guitar riff produced through a pitch shift effect. Jimin enjoys himself way too much on the drums. It’s a nice song.
The reason why Jimin came up with the band wasn’t to play at music festivals or gigs. He wanted to have fun – but it all escalated. Except for Hoseok, who’s majoring in Marine Biology, they are all majoring in Music. The concerts they hold in nightclubs and concert halls are not the main purpose of the band. If it was, they'd need way more original songs than they have. But they get by, and Jungkook uploads all their videos on youtube. Taehyung doesn’t comment on these details, though, as much as he wants to. He fears coming out as condescending.
He’s sweating under his loose-fitting yellow sweater. His fingertips hurt like hell – he doesn’t play with a guitar pick. He glances over to Jungkook – drinking water, black and long-ish hair dripping sweat. They’re all like this, drenched in sweat and flushed from the happiness of making music. He thinks they could get serious – actually serious – about the band if they wanted to.
Taehyung could help. He’d want to help. He wishes Jimin would invite him again. He wishes for it so badly that, for a moment, he thinks of inviting himself. Of course, he doesn’t. He puts his guitar back on the stand.
“I feel like Jimin should pay for our dinner tonight.” He says.
“Funny,” Jungkook laughs. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Hoseok nods his head. “That would be the bare minimum, actually.”
Touching his cheek with one of his drumsticks, Jimin replies, “Sometimes I wish I had never met any of you.”
“Hm,” Taehyung says. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“It is,” Jimin whines. “It really fucking is.”
“Nah,” Jungkook teases. “Doesn’t sound that way to me.”
Jimin mutters under his breath, “I wish I was in Paris right now.”
“You’d take us with you,” Hoseok says, smiling softly at Jimin’s pouty face. “You’d beg us to go.”
Jimin throws a drumstick at him.
Taehyung goes to his morning classes every day after having skipped enough for a year. He figures he’s eighty-eight per cent over the one thing that was bringing him down. Of course, there are bad and good days. Some days are okay, and he barely remembers everything that happened.
Other days, that's all he seems to think about.
He wakes up and there it is. The shame of being cheated on, the hurt of being lied to. The bitterness of having lost something so important as the band was for him. The anger of being the one cast out when he was the victim. No one had tried to call, no one had even texted. These people have known him since he was a little boy. He guesses that doesn't mean much.
Today, he feels the loneliness coming off him in waves. Taehyung is at the coffee shop, his laptop turned on and placed neatly on the table. There's a glass of iced coffee next to it and his notes are scattered around. The word document on his screen remains empty. He's not in the mood to write a paper on the fundamentals of music literacy.
He was supposed to meet Jimin for lunch, but on his way here Jimin texted telling him he wouldn't make it because his father called in an urgent meeting at the company. Jimin doesn't even work there yet, nor does he like the meetings. But Taehyung can't be mad at him for doing his duty as the only son. He feels spectacularly lonely today.
It's not anyone's fault he's feeling sorry for himself, but he'd rather have someone around. He pouts, drags his finger on his mouse pad until someone's hand lowers the laptop screen, stopping an inch away from smashing his finger. Taehyung looks up to find Jungkook standing next to his table.
"What's up?" Jungkook says.
Taehyung arches an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"
"I was around."
"You seem to be around a lot lately," He comments. "Not that I'm complaining," He pushes the other chair away from the table with the tip of his shoe. "Wanna sit?"
"You're not busy?" Jungkook asks, sitting down.
Taehyung closes his laptop. "Yeah."
Jungkook sniggers. "Okay, then."
"Were you seriously around or did Jimin text you?"
Laughing, Jungkook replies, "He texted me."
"I knew it," Taehyung says. "Did he bribe you into having lunch with me?"
"No," Jungkook says. "But he said you might feel lonely, so I said I would come. It's not like I have a paper on Composition and Orchestration to write."
Taehyung winces. "Don't talk about papers. I'm writing one for Mr Lee."
Jungkook makes a sympathetic face. "Good luck."
Silence washes over them. It's not uncomfortable, but Taehyung's head convinces him it is. Jungkook offered to keep him company and he isn't capable of holding an interesting conversation? He clears his throat. "You should order something to eat. It’s lunchtime."
"I’m good, the food here sucks."
Taehyung frowns. "It does not."
"It really fucking does," Jungkook laughs. He folds his arms on the table. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt, his tattoos visible and beautiful. Taehyung stops his eyes from wandering. "I don't plan on eating their chocolate muffins. You can't even call that a muffin."
"As if you'd do better."
"I do."
Taehyung narrows his eyes at him. "You cook?"
"I bake," Jungkook shrugs. "It's different."
"Are you shitting me?"
Jungkook shakes his head. "I've baked ever since I was, what? Twelve? My grandmother taught me."
"I'd actually pay to see that," Taehyung says, leaning in. "I'd pay you to bake for me."
"You wouldn't have to pay now that we're friends," Jungkook replies. "I mean, two weeks ago I'd charge."
Taehyung rolls his eyes. "So you agree that we're friends now and it's all thanks to me?"
"Well, you were the one begging for me to be your friend..."
"Right," Taehyung laughs. "So when are you going to bake some cookies for your new friend?"
"Cookies? What about brownies?"
"Why brownies?"
"I was gonna bake some for myself later today, maybe for dinner."
"Yeah?"
Jungkook hums. "Do you wanna come to my place? I'll bake the brownies and we can, I don't know, try to write our papers."
"Here comes Mr Education talking about papers again, I said shut up about that already."
"Okay then, I will write my paper and you can fail Mr Lee’s class."
Taehyung pouts. "You make a good point. I guess we can study if I'm gonna get brownies."
Jungkook laughs. "Good choice."
"You came on the motorbike?"
"Obviously."
"Ugh," He says, gathering his stuff. "I can't believe I'm gonna get on that death machine again."
"You can walk," Jungkook says. "Or catch a bus."
"You could buy a car."
Jungkook laughs again and Taehyung realises he really likes making Jungkook laugh. "I'm Jungkook. You must be having me confused with Jimin. He’s richer, though way shorter."
Taehyung fixes his backpack on his shoulders, already fetching the money to pay for his iced coffee. Jungkook follows him to the cashier. "Would you rather be smaller and richer, like him, or keep your height and your negative account balance?"
"Richer," Jungkook says, quickly. "I mean, would you keep your height?"
Taehyung pays for his coffee and smiles at the cashier before they leave. They walk side by side to where Jungkook parked his motorbike. "Of course not."
Jungkook offers him a helmet. "Sorry about the hair."
Taehyung shakes his head. "It's fine."
He climbs on the back of Jungkook's motorcycle. It's funny to think that weeks ago, he'd never think of getting that close to Jungkook, but this is the second time in a few days he finds himself in this position. He's relaxed because Jungkook is an experienced guy. Taehyung knows he learnt how to ride a motorcycle very young, he overheard something like that from Jimin.
The thing about riding a motorcycle as a passenger is that you have to stay close to the other person. It can be weird and uncomfortable, but it wasn't either on his first time riding behind Jungkook – it certainly is neither now. Of course, he doesn't know if Jungkook has had any crashes, he hopes not. The thought makes him a little anxious, so he slides a little closer to Jungkook's back.
“Had any crashes?” He asks while Jungkook is fixing his motorcycle gloves.
Taehyung's arms circle him.
"Not with a passenger on me," Jungkook replies. He laughs when Taehyung squeezes his waist. "I'm kidding, no, I have never crashed."
“Okay,” He says. “That’s good.”
"You've ridden with me before, shouldn't you have asked that?"
"I forgot."'
Jungkook says, "Could've crashed with you that day." Then, he puts on his helmet.
"Can you stop talking about crashing your motorcycle while I'm on it?"
Jungkook presses the shifter down to the first gear. "You started it."
Taehyung grips Jungkook's shirt with a little more force as he releases the clutch and gently twists the throttle. As the motorcycle moves forward, he plants his feet properly on the pegs. "Why are you nervous?" Jungkook teases, steering. "You've been here before."
"I was nervous the first time, too."
"I bet you were," Jungkook shouts, sounding muffled.
He rolls his eyes. The ride to Jungkook's apartment is pretty smooth, as it was the first time Taehyung rode with him. Taehyung has never been to Jungkook's place before. Riding a motorcycle gives him all the time he needs to imagine what Jungkook's apartment must look like. He doesn't think it is as big as Jimin's house, of course, but it might be slightly bigger than the two-bedroom apartment that Hoseok rents, where the second bedroom is too narrow to fit a bed but wide enough to fit his computer desk. He imagines the walls are completely overflowing with band posters, the kind of emo teen bedroom you see in the movies.
It'll probably be clean enough. He doesn't remember if Jungkook lives alone or if he's got a roommate. Either way, he believes Jungkook would keep a tidy house. He realises Jungkook hasn't been to his place. Maybe he could cook him dinner to return the favour.
They were really distant, weren't they? Taehyung has stuff over at Jimin's house – a phone charger, a toothbrush, underwear –, and he's been to Hoseok's before. Once to help him assemble an IKEA shelf and another time to make him a bowl of soup because Hoseok had fallen ill. To think he's known Jungkook for as long as he has known Jimin and Hoseok and still doesn’t know so many things about him makes him irritated.
He should've reached out before, instead of letting Jungkook's stare intimidate him. He reckons this is as much Jungkook's fault as it is his – that thought makes him feel a little better.
Jungkook shouts, "Here we are."
It's a nice building, nicer than he had expected. Taehyung tries to remember if Jungkook is loaded, but fails to come up with a memory of having ever talked to Jungkook about money. They enter the dark parking lot.
Finally, Jungkook turns off the motorcycle. "Good? Alive?"
Taehyung pokes his ribs. "Shut up."
"I'm asking because I care-"
"You just don't want to be responsible for my death."
"Maybe so. I think Jimin would rip my throat off."
Taehyung gets off the motorcycle. "Probably, but I think Hoseok would try to tear him away from you."
Jungkook's apartment is, surprisingly, all polished lines and open spaces. There's an enormous, very comfortable couch in the middle of the room and just behind it, two armchairs facing the window. It's a clear glass window, not as big as the one at the studio but big enough to let daylight wash the living room. The TV is plastered on the wall and the shelf under it is packed with CDs – actually overflowing with CDs. There's just a counter splitting the space between the kitchen and living room. Taehyung throws his backpack on the couch as Jungkook takes off his boots, feet sliding on the floor as he walks into the kitchen. "Get comfortable," He says. "I'll start the brownies."
"Do you need any help?"
"You like baking?"
"Not really," Taehyung replies, honestly.
"Then no," Jungkook smiles. "Start your paper."
"What are you? My mom? My TA?"
"I'm just a friend," Jungkook replies, his back facing Taehyung as he washes his hands. "Friends care about that kind of thing. Jimin told me."
"Does Jimin teach you how to be friends with people?"
"Pretty much," Jungkook says. He dries his hand before turning to look at Taehyung. "He tried to make me talk to you before, you know."
Taehyung had suspected it. "Yeah, me too."
He watches as Jungkook separates the brownies' ingredients on the counter. He doesn't have a sweet tooth – raised with his grandmother's preference for savoury food –, but he remembers eating brownies as a kid. They were moist and chocolatey with crispy edges, quite perfect. He tries to picture Jungkook – Jungkook! – baking brownies. It seems so surreal.
Jungkook is the type of guy who wears combat boots and leather necklaces, he drives a motorcycle and Taehyung doesn't remember ever seeing him wearing bright colours. But here he is, making brownies from scratch. It's a nice contrast, makes Taehyung smile without noticing. Jungkook's hands work fast and in a blink, he's mixing the dry and wet ingredients in two separate bowls.
Jungkook peers at him. “I’ll be done with these before you finish your stuff.”
“I won’t– I don’t wanna study,” He whines. “I wanna watch you.”
“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Wanna learn?”
Taehyung clears his throat. “Yeah.”
“This is a family recipe, you gotta unlock level six hundred before you can learn this.”
"What's our level now?" He asks.
"Barely two hundred."
"Shit," Taehyung leans in on the counter. "Guess we gotta work harder."
Jungkook proceeds to combine the wet and dry ingredients. From where he stands, Taehyung thinks the batter looks thick. He's about to question if that's what he was going for, but he stops himself. Jungkook seems to take baking as seriously as he takes music, and Taehyung has learnt not to question him when it's about music. Jungkook pours the batter into a baking pan with parchment paper.
"You look so professional." He comments.
"I've been doing this for years, Tae."
Taehyung stops. It’s the first time Jungkook calls him that which makes him feel… weirdly warm inside. And outside, apparently, because he feels his cheeks getting red.
“Okay, sorry.”
Jungkook laughs – he kneels with the pan in one hand, the other reaching for the oven. "Forty minutes and it'll be done."
“Well, that was quick.”
“I had everything I needed, you know, basic pantry ingredients. Besides, I've been doing this for years. ”
“I got it,” Taehyung rolls his eyes.
"If you don't wanna get anything done today, what do you want to do while we wait for the brownies?"
"I don't know," He shrugs. "We could talk."
"About what?" Jungkook folds his arms on the counter. They are directly across each other, leaning in. Taehyung's eyes fall to Jungkook's forearms. The dark ink contrasting immensely with his skin, the lines fine and sharp.
He swallows. "Childhood traumas?"
"That's level three hundred."
"Jesus, then what is allowed on our current level?"
"Motorcycle rides and my favourite colour."
"I'm taking a wild guess here, but I think your favourite colour is black."
Jungkook smacks his lips. "I thought you'd put in some effort."
"Are you kidding? Is it not black?"
"I'll give you half a point. I do love black, but the colour I like the most is light orange. You know, the colour of the sky when the sun's about to go down."
Taehyung frowns. "How was I supposed to guess that?"
"I'm shitting you, you were right. It's black.” Jungkook's eyes are small when he throws his head back laughing.
Taehyung says, "You're much more annoying than I thought you were."
"I'm glad to hear that."
It's a little bit irritating that Taehyung's brain insists on cataloguing the sound of Jungkook's laugh, but he brushes it off. "Now you guess mine," He says, eager to change the course his thoughts are taking.
"Light purple."
Taehyung tilts his head. "I guess you could say that, like, a very light purple. Almost grey."
"Then just say grey already," Jungkook pokes his forearm with his index finger. "I actually thought it'd be yellow."
"Why?" Taehyung asks.
"Because you wear that baggy yellow sweater a lot."
Taehyung blinks in surprise. "I guess I do. It's comfy."
"You make me wanna try it out," Jungkook adds. "The baggy clothes."
"You'd look cute in them."
"Really? Would it match my vibe?"
Taehyung groans. "Please, never say that again. And yeah, I think it'd look good."
"When we unlock level three hundred, I might ask for some borrowed clothes."
“How do we unlock levels in this game?” Taehyung asks, suddenly impatient to have more of Jungkook. "I think you're making this up."
"I might be," Jungkook says. "But it's working, isn't it? You want to unlock levels to get closer to me."
"You are so annoying, you know that?" Jungkook nods. "And you're okay with that?"
"Everyone's a little bit annoying," He shrugs. "Being more annoying than an average person is like winning a medal."
Jungkook ushers him away from the kitchen counter after that, pushing Taehyung towards the couch. Taehyung is a very touchy person, he likes feeling his friends against his fingertips. it's his love language and although he's touched Jungkook before, this – this kind of casual touch - is something fresh in between them. He likes it, wants more of it. He can feel himself getting comfortable in this friendship.
He sits down on Jungkook's maroon couch, putting his socked feet on the cushion. "I like your place," He says. "It's so open. Clean."
"Thanks."
"Don't you have a roommate?"
"Nah," Jungkook says. He disappears behind the counter – having crouched down to look at his brownies. "I don't do well with people all over my space."
"Riiiight," Taehyung replies, drawing out the word as he waits for Jungkook to get up. "I almost forgot how territorial you are."
"That word makes it sound like I'm a dog," He whines. "I'm just, you know, I didn't have many friends when I was younger. And I never had a room for myself, I always shared it with my older brother."
"I understand," Taehyung says. "I'm an only son, but I get the friends thing. I mean, I had friends-"
"So you don't actually understand."
Taehyung laughs. "Maybe not."
Jungkook purses his lips. "Look, Tae, can you- I mean, I know I was a pain in the ass, but can we forget I acted like that?"
"Of course, don't worry about that. I told you I don't do well with negative emotions. You're my friend. We're good."
They talk about silly things while waiting for the brownies to bake. The whole place smells like chocolate and Taehyung laughs until his belly hurts when Jungkook tells him stories about his middle school days.
It's such a sweet thing, he thinks, to be able to experience this – the beginning of a friendship. Friends are very important to Taehyung and he'd just been hurt so deeply by those who were with him for so long. To sit across from Jungkook now and talk to him, oh, he feels so at ease, just like he felt when he told Jimin a secret over a cup of coffee for the first time. Like he felt when he slept on Hoseok's shoulder.
Jungkook is such a sweet thing, the way he folds over himself when laughing, the nose scrunch. He's younger, Taehyung reminds himself, that's why he's got the innocent glow on him. Taehyung remembers Jungkook telling him he's never had a boyfriend. How many things hasn't he experienced yet?
Jungkook sits up. "The brownies are ready, come on."
"Neither of us got any work done today," He comments, following Jungkook into the small kitchen. "Jesus, this smells so fucking good."
He laughs, placing the brownies on the counter. "Here, oh, they look good, too."
"They really do,” Taehyung replies, watching as Jungkook cuts the brownies into perfect squares.
"Let me get us some glasses. Do you want milk? Tea? I've got water, too. No soda, sorry." Jungkook turns his back at him, busying himself with the refrigerator. Taehyung takes the chance to steal a perfectly square brownie from the pan – it's hot. It's really fucking hot. He regrets the decision immediately, but he makes an even worse decision.
He tosses the brownie into his mouth. It's bigger than a decent bite, of course it fucking hurts. "Ouch," He says, mouth full, tongue burning.
He lets his mouth fall open, trying to suck in cold air through his mouth.
"These are hot," Jungkook says, serving him a glass of cold milk. "Are you stupid?"
"I think I am," He says, spitting a few brownie crumbs into the air. Taehyung reaches for the glass, practically inhaling the milk. He swallows. “I didn’t even taste them.”
"That's what you're worried about?"
Taehyung's tongue feels raw. "I lost a tongue to taste these."
"You're gonna live."
"You can't promise me that."
"You can still eat brownies," Jungkook points at the brownies, cooling off on the kitchen counter.
"I can't feel my tongue, Jungkook."
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. "Lemme see."
Taehyung doesn't understand what he's asking, what he is expecting. Maybe he's not thinking straight because that really hurt, or maybe he's just very stupid. Taehyung leans in – mouth open, tongue out.
Jungkook holds him softly by the chin. "Do you wanna suck an ice cube? I think it'll help."
Taehyung closes his mouth, face warm. "Yeah."
Jungkook fetches the ice cubes in the refrigerator. Taehyung thinks he's just about to hand him the cubes, but he breaks them on his hand. Taehyung looks at him, then at his hand again. "Here," Jungkook says – like it's the most normal thing in the world to have your friend suck an ice cube from your hand.
But Taehyung does exactly that, closing his lips around the ice cube melting on Jungkook's palm, his lips brushing Jungkook's hand for a second before he pulls away.
"Thanks," He says, suddenly jittery. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's fine, don't worry about it."
Taehyung leaves Jungkook's place very late. The burnt tongue incident is long forgotten, the sun has already gone from the sky, temperature lower than it was earlier that day. Jungkook offers him a ride, but Taehyung is in desperate need of a little alone time, so he catches an Uber; Jungkook makes him promise to send a text when he gets home. Part of Taehyung wants to forego the texting completely, but he doesn't.
He texts Jungkook as soon as he's past his door. I’m home, he sends, thanks for the brownies.
Jungkook texts back, Glad to know you’re safe. No need to thank me for the brownies, it was a pleasure :^)
As time passes, Taehyung starts to realise that this thing he’s got going on with Jungkook is different. He’s on his couch, laying down after having practiced with Jungkook for hours. They weren’t supposed to play the guitar and eat greasy hamburgers in Taehyung’s living room. This was supposed to be a study session. Jungkook might be a genius when it comes to music, but writing isn’t one of his strengths. Taehyung, on the other hand, has been writing A+ papers since high school. Writing always came easily to him, it was a little like composing something, though the analogy had not worked with Jungkook at all. So it’s a Monday, Taehyung is done with his assignments and Jungkook is… not.
They were supposed to study, but Jungkook had knocked on Taehyung’s door with a pout and a guitar case in one hand, the backpack hanging from his shoulder. “I hate studying!” He said, as soon as Taehyung opened the door.
He laughed, ushering Jungkook inside. “Let’s get this done.”
But they hadn’t. Taehyung has to admit that he is very, very weak to Jungkook’s pout. The study session lasted less than half an hour and he was easily convinced to play something on the guitar while Jungkook ordered takeout. And then they ate so much greasy food that studying after was an impossible task. Hours went by, the sun went down and Jungkook’s paper was still not done.
Taehyung, almost asleep, reaches for Jungkook’s head – he’s laying on top of Taehyung on the couch, head rested on Taehyung’s belly –, “I can write it for you. The paper. It’ll be no problem.”
Jungkook mumbles, “Can’t ask you that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” He pets Jungkook’s head. “Besides, you could ask me anything.”
“Really?”
“Mmm.”
Jungkook laughs. “I could get used to that.”
Giggling, Taehyung pushes Jungkook off him. “Let me get started. Hand me your laptop and don’t distract me with celebrity gossip. Do you understand? If I focus hard I can get this done before you leave tonight.”
Jungkook nods. “Okay. Thanks.”
It's an easy topic to write about, Taehyung notices, and the minimum word count is actually smaller than what he’s used to writing. He can get something done in a few hours. “I didn’t know you were into the teaching aspect of music,” He comments, eyeing the title of Jungkook's research. Teaching music: how music helps children’s brain development. “Or the children's part.”
“I’m good with kids,” Jungkook replies. “And music helped me a lot in middle school,” He shrugs, sliding closer to Taehyung on the couch, resting his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I think music helps all areas of child development. It even helps with motor skills. It's also so much fun to use music as a tool to help kids learn stuff."
Taehyung bites his bottom lip. Jungkook is so fucking cute. “You’re right. See, I’m gonna use this in your paper. You can tell me all you know about the topic and I’ll write it, how does that sound?”
“Sounds great, Tae, this way I won’t feel like an impostor when you help me get an A+.”
Taehyung giggles.
Jungkook is so smart, he knows what he’s talking about, and can recite several pieces of research on the topic from the top of his head. Writing the paper is uncomplicated and Taehyung gets it done in a little over an hour. His hands are sore as hell, though, because he didn’t use the guitar pick today when they were playing. There are blisters on the tip of his fingers. “Fuck,” He says. “These fucking hurt.”
Jungkook frowns. “You never use the guitar pick. It exists for a reason, you know?”
Taehyung saves the file before closing the laptop. “I know, I just forget.”
Still frowning, Jungkook pulls Taehyung’s hand to his lap, inspecting the blisters. “Do you have any ointment?”
“I think I do, in one of my drawers.”
“Can I go get it?”
Taehyung shrugs. “Sure.”
Jungkook comes back five minutes later with a tube of ointment that Taehyung forgot he really had and cotton swabs. “Here, let me,” He says, pulling Taehyung’s hand to his lap again. He applies some ointment on the cotton swab and, very softly and very carefully, glides the cotton swab on the three blisters adorning Taehyung’s fingers. He watches Jungkook’s focused face, the little pout that forms on his mouth as he concentrates. “You are a mess.”
“Don’t be mean, I’m hurt.”
“You did this to yourself,” He says. “Next time we’re playing I’ll force a guitar pick on your hands.”
“Fine, dad.”
Jungkook laughs. “There, there.”
“Give it a little kiss,” Taehyung says. He’s joking , he swears he is just being silly.
But Jungkook brings his hand closer to his face and Taehyung wants to pull it back and laugh it off, but as always, he doesn’t. Every time they tiptoe on this bizarre and weak line – the line that exists as a limit – Taehyung doesn’t do anything to stop them from stepping out of it.
Jungkook places a soft and dry kiss on the palm of Taehyung’s hand. This is what he means when he says this thing, this friendship is different. Not because Hoseok wouldn’t apply ointment on his blisters or because Jimin wouldn’t kiss his hand, but because he wouldn’t flush from head to toe if they did that. He wouldn’t feel his belly tense under his shirt.
But he changes the course of his thoughts very quickly. He’s getting quite used to doing that. Sometimes he feels as if thinking too much about it is going to make him lose his mind. It is better to ignore, to brush it off, to lock these thoughts in the back of his head, to pretend they won’t easily resurface the next time Jungkook is near.
“Now you’re going to heal very fast.”
He clears his throat. “Thanks.”
“Do you wanna watch a movie? It’s still too early for me to go home.”
“Sure, what do you wanna watch?” He asks, putting a reasonable distance in between them on the couch. “Anything works for me unless it’s a hipster french movie.”
“Ugh,” Jungkook murmurs. “As if I’d ever!”
Taehyung's life goes on without any other major change. It's early morning when Taehyung turns the key on the door to the studio, not even eight. There isn't anyone here because everyone has class, but luckily Taehyung's morning class was cancelled, which meant he had all the time in the world to organise his late assignments or practice the guitar.
It was a very easy choice.
He finds the light switch with ease, lighting up the whole studio. The sky is dark blue, heavy clouds tainting the beautiful view. It's cold, Taehyung thinks, but he's got a sweatshirt on top of his actual shirt so it's not so bad.
He spends the morning there.
Moments like these – when he forgets everything that isn't music, when he forgets everything that isn't the guitar in his hands – are always his favourites. Taehyung plays his self-composed songs, the ones that no one has heard yet because he's alone and he doesn't get to be alone in the studio as much as he wishes he would. Often he'd play these songs at home, hidden from his friends, too much worry filling his pores. He doesn't think anyone would judge him if the songs he composed were actual shit, but he isn't the strongest when it comes to people criticising him.
He should be used to critics, though, because Geun used to let out some very sarcastic comments that, back then, Taehyung would force himself to pretend weren't meant to hurt. He glances at the window and realises rain is pouring outside, fat drops of water hitting the windowpane with intensity. It’s warm enough inside the studio that Taehyung rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
His phone buzzes on the floor next to his spread legs. It’s probably Jimin, he thinks, but when he unlocks his phone his mouth curls into a smile. Where are you?, the message reads, I’m bored as hell.
Jungkook should be in class right now, which means he’s probably texting while his professor is speaking. It’s disrespectful, but Taehyung texts him back: I’m at the studio. Wanna come?
Yeah, Jungkook texts back instantly, Be there in fifteen minutes.
There’s no need to run red lights to get here, Taehyung sends, I’ll wait.
But Jungkook isn’t online anymore, so Taehyung locks his phone and focuses on strumming his guitar, practising his self-composed songs before Jungkook gets here. Once again, he doesn’t think Jungkook would laugh at him – Jungkook is too sweet for that, although he can be a little bit judgemental if you let him –, the problem is just that Taehyung is Taehyung.
He’s not that insecure, not about things he knows he does well, but he is always scared of, accidentally, creating something he’s not proud of; he’s always creating , he’s always making something out of nothing and there are chances that someday he will make something awful.
He’s scared of realising the day has finally come when a friend tells him, hey, that song fucking sucks. Of course, to him his creations are the best part of himself – he’s proud of every single thing he made in his life: music, drawings he made on his white sneakers using sharpie pens, the paintings he makes when he’s bored at home. He likes everything because it’s his. But not everyone would like his things as much as he does, and that’s okay. It’s fine, but it’s not fine if that someone is someone he loves.
So that’s why he doesn’t show his songs to his friends. Because if they don’t like it – if they hate it –, then Taehyung would feel as if they are hating him. It’s not how it works, rationally speaking, but he isn’t always rational. Sometimes he’s emotional, passional. That’s how he is.
Taehyung startles when the studio door springs open. He gets up quickly and gets a little bit dizzy with the sudden movement, but it’s just Jungkook on the threshold. A very wet Jungkook, dripping water on the linoleum floor of Jimin’s expensive music studio. He’s shivering, the absolute idiot, helmet in one hand and guitar case in the other.
His shirt is so tight and wet that it is actually see-through and Taehyung makes a herculean effort to keep his eyes away from Jungkook’s chest, Jungkook's belly, all of him.
He tries very hard to not stare but he does. He's only human and for the first time since he met Jungkook, he's obliged to accept the fact that Jungkook is infuriatingly hot.
Hot, yes, but a massive idiot. He's completely drenched.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Taehyung says, biting back his giggle. “Why didn’t you get a cab? Why didn’t you stay on campus?”
“I was bored, Tae," Jungkook says, finally getting inside the warm studio. He puts his helmet and guitar case on the floor, careful not to let the guitar slip. “And I told you I was coming.”
“And you could text me again saying you wouldn’t be able to,” He looks at the window again. “It’s fucking pouring.”
“I can see that, thanks.”
“Take off your shirt.”
Jungkook peers at him. “What?”
“Take off your shirt, it’s too wet. You’re gonna end up sick. I’ll give you my hoodie.”
“No, Tae, it’s fine–”
“No, it’s not. Take it off already.”
Jungkook sighs, taking off his wet white shirt. Taehyung closes his eyes and busies himself by taking off his sweatshirt. It’s a good thing he’s wearing a shirt underneath it. Jungkook shivers, skin still wet, but there’s not much Taehyung can do to help with that – it’s not like there’s a towel here. He offers Jungkook the dry and warm and, frankly, most comfortable clothing he’s got aside from his yellow sweater.
"Thanks," Jungkook says, softly.
Taehyung is not strong enough to not watch as Jungkook's stomach flexes as he puts on his sweatshirt, but he clears his throat and looks away before Jungkook's head peaks through the clothing. “Do you think it’s a good idea to stay?”
Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m good, the sweatshirt helped a lot. Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.”
"Why are you blushing?"
"Because you're thanking me."
"You're so weird."
"Are you sure you don't wanna go home?"
Jungkook rolls his eyes and says, "Can we play?"
"You're gonna get sick-"
"I will if you keep saying it!" He says but sneezes right after speaking. Taehyung stares at him. "This doesn't mean I'm getting sick."
“Then what does it mean?”
“It’s just a sneeze!”
Taehyung bites his lip. “If you sneeze again I’m calling it off.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
It lasts an hour. Taehyung had suspected Jungkook was holding back his sneezes, and he bit his lip to keep from mouthing off, but then Jungkook gave up pretending. He sneezes three times in a row and groans. "Okay," He says, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on his guitar. "I think I'm getting sick."
"You think," Taehyung shakes his head. "Come on, let's go. I'll call a cab. We'll get you under a shower."
"A shower," Jungkook repeats. "Will you get under the shower with me?"
Taehyung pauses. He doesn't register the words as quickly as he should've. Jungkook looks at him. "I'm sorry," He says. "I don't know why I said that. I think I've got a fever."
Taehyung shrugs him off. "I'll call us a cab."
"But my motorcycle-"
"It'll be fine, this building is probably safer than yours."
"You're right."
"Okay, hold on."
The cab arrives fast, which is a blessing – and weird because it’s raining and cabs are always so hard to catch. But it arrives fast and Taehyung doesn’t let Jungkook take his guitar, convincing him to leave everything in the studio instead, after all, they can always come and go as they please. So he ushers Jungkook through the door, hand on his lower back, guiding him as if he’s a kid. It’s the age difference, he thinks, but it’s also the way Jungkook’s mouth is curled into a pout.
The drive to Jungkook's apartment takes longer than usual. Jungkook's head falls to Taehyung's shoulder three minutes into the ride. He groans, whining against Taehyung's neck.
"This is your fault."
Taehyung laughs. "Why?"
"Because you said I was gonna get sick. You manifested it."
"I did not," Taehyung retorts. "You are sick because you rode a motorbike under pouring rain."
“Yeah, because I was coming to see you.”
“Because you were bored.”
“Because I wanted to see you,” Jungkook says, pressing his cold nose against Taehyung’s collarbone.
“Clingy.”
"Shut up."
Taehyung laughs.
I’m such a good friend, he tells himself as he helps Jungkook out of the car, twenty-five minutes later. On the elevator, Jungkook catches Taehyung's hand and presses it against his forehead.
"Am I hot?"
"A little," Taehyung answers, honestly.
"Just a little?"
Taehyung pulls his hand back, realising what Jungkook meant. "Don't be a dick."
Jungkook laughs, head falling back and thumping against the elevator mirror. His apartment is so warm that Taehyung lets out a sweet sigh, taking off his shoes. The rain still hasn't stopped, but inside the comfortable flat, it doesn't really matter. Jungkook flops down on the couch, but Taehyung curls his hand around Jungkook's ankle.
"You need to shower."
"I need a nap."
"Shower first."
"Who are you? My mom?"
"A friend," Taehyung reminisces Jungkook's words. "And I'm trying to help ."
"God," Jungkook says, getting up from the couch. "You win!"
"I'll make you some soup, okay?"
Jungkook's eyes soften. "Thank you."
He disappears into the corridor. Taehyung glances at the small kitchen, trying to guess where to find Jungkook's pans. He finds them easily enough and it’s refreshing to see Jungkook has enough vegetables for a simple soup. Taehyung isn’t very good at cooking, but he gets by. And it’s a soup, there’s absolutely nothing easier than a soup.
He washes his hands and gets to work, humming a song he practiced earlier today. Chopping vegetables, boiling water – these are very simple tasks. He finds some seasoning in one of Jungkook’s sideboards.
The soup is almost finished when Jungkook leaves the shower. He pads into the living room with a blanket around his shoulders.
“Feeling better?”
Jungkook flops down on the couch. “No, I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“I feel like I’m dying, therefore I am.”
“Men are so dramatic when they’re sick.”
“You are a man.”
“But I’m different. I never get sick, for instance.”
Jungkook groans.
Taehyung finishes the soup, turns off the stove and finds a bowl to pour it into. When he’s done, he walks to where Jungkook’s seated and kneels next to him. “Here, I made some soup.”
“You’re a godsend.”
“It’s the least I can do after manifesting your sickness.”
Jungkook tries to laugh, but he ends up coughing. “I don’t get sick easily, I don’t know why a little rain did all this.”
“A little rain,” Taehyung repeats. “You are so stupid. It was pouring – and I bet it was cold in your classroom, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“And you were on your motorcycle, weren’t you? The wind must have been ruthless, too.”
‘Okay, I get it. I was stupid and now I’m sick.”
“Exactly, now drink your soup.”
Jungkook obeys – finally, without talking back or teasing or making it purposely hard as he always does. He’s messy because the sickness is probably making him feel heavy-limbed, and it makes him drop the spoon once or twice. It’s just the flu, but it looks like a strong one. Taehyung worries about him with such intensity that he, unconsciously, drags himself closer to Jungkook – just an inch, just because he’s worried.
He waits until Jungkook finishes eating to get up, taking the empty bowl with him. He rests both hands on the kitchen counter, closing his eyes, trying desperately to understand why he doesn’t want to leave.
Taehyung comes back to the living room, watches as Jungkook snuggles on the couch with his blanket. There’s a drop of soup on his upper lip. Taehyung blinks and reaches for Jungkook’s face with a trembling hand. In a matter of seconds, his thumb is cleaning the soup off Jungkook’s thin upper lip. Jungkook looks at him – Taehyung doesn’t look away.
“I think you’ll feel better after a nap,” He says, pulling his hand back. The air around them feels heavy. “I’m leaving, okay?”
“No,” Jungkook says – and he reaches for the hem of Taehyung’s shirt, holding it firmly in between his thumb and his index finger, pulling him closer. “Don’t go. Stay.”
He flushes a horrifying red. “Jungkook–”
“Until I fall asleep, at least.”
Taehyung looks at Jungkook’s fingers at the hem of his shirt, then at Jungkook’s face. His cheeks are red. He places his hand on Jungkook’s forehead. “You’re a little feverish.”
“I’m fine,” Jungkook says. He lets go of Taehyung’s shirt but closes his hand around his wrist. “Stay.”
Taehyung nods. “Okay. Yeah, I can– I can stay.” He sits on the floor next to Jungkook and watches as Jungkook closes his eyes. He doesn’t let go of Taehyung’s wrist, though.
“What was the song you were humming?” Jungkook asks, eyes still closed. “When I was in the shower.”
Taehyung doesn’t reply at first, but then he relaxes against the couch, feeling the warm and solid touch of Jungkook’s fingers around his wrist. “It’s a song, I mean, it’s my song. I composed it a few months ago.”
“I wanna hear it,” Jungkook says, but he sounds half asleep. “Promise me.”
Taehyung hesitates, but yields. “Okay.”
He sighs and, tentatively, lays his head on Jungkook’s stomach, eyes glued to Jungkook’s face, but he doesn’t move nor does he open his eyes. His breathing gets even and Taehyung stays.
Taehyung stays. Because he can’t fathom leaving– he doesn’t want to leave. He watches as Jungkook sleeps and– this is a mess, he’s making a mess.
But he stays.
Taehyung waits for Jungkook to recover completely from his flu before he starts avoiding him. well, it’s not really a matter of avoiding – he’s putting some space in between them. A very needed space.
What happened at Jungkook’s house three days ago left him cautious and apprehensive because he knows what that feeling of not wanting to leave means; the worry and the desire, his cheeks flushing when Jungkook asked him to stay – he knows what it all means and he doesn’t think he can have it. He doesn’t think it’s a good fucking idea to entertain that feeling. This has been dragging on for too long – the lack of boundaries, the way they are constantly trespassing the limits of what an entirely platonic friendship is.
So the generic excuses he finds himself giving when Jungkook texts him aren’t enough to make him feel bad about taking a step back. He focuses on studying – there are so many late assignments he needs to work on, he even cleans his apartment while trying not to leave his building one late evening to meet Jungkook at a pub downtown.
Jimin notices. Of course. He always notices everything – he doesn’t pry, but Taehyung understands the looks Jimin sends on his way whenever he says he’s too busy or too tired to hang out.
It takes a whole week of missing practice, not showing up to movie dates at Jimin’s house and completely disappearing from the group chat for Jimin to crack. He ambushes Taehyung on their way out of the Contemporary Art and Science Theory conference – that Taehyung only showed up to because it was agreed upon a month ago before he got messy and Jungkook turned irresistible.
“I’ve got a question for you,” Jimin says. “I know there are two honest answers for that question– any other answer you give is going to be a lie. So don’t even try.”
Taehyung chuckles. “You realise you sound mad when you say things like that?”
“You are avoiding Jungkook. You are either angry at him for something he said or something he did or you are harbouring feelings for him and you don’t want to face it. Which one is it?”
Taehyung stares down at the small notepad they got as a conference gift; it’s got a dark blue cover with a small puppy wearing glasses printed on it. Taehyung loves it.
“So?” Jimin nudges him with his shoulder.
“Before I answer,” He starts. “I don’t want you to get involved, okay? It’s nothing serious–”
“Answer the question, Tae.”
“It has come to my attention that I might feel some type of way regarding Jungkook.”
Jimin sniggers. “I knew it! All the staring and the tension between the both of you were very telling, you know? If you had been single when you guys met…” He trails off. “Jesus, this is hot news!”
“You are not gonna tell anyone!”
“What about Hoseok? I can’t keep secrets from him.”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
They are close to the library now. Taehyung doesn’t like coming to the library because he never gets anything done when he’s there – it’s always cold and the chairs are actually so comfortable that he gets sleepy instantly – and they can’t talk when they are in the library. But he was following Jimin after they left the conference and didn’t realise Jimin was guiding them there.
“Well, why, he’s our friend.”
“He is,” Taehyung agrees, eyeing Jimin suspiciously. “But some things are just between you and me.”
“You’re right.”
“Do you have shit to do in there?” He says, pointing at the library.
“Nah, why?”
“Let’s get something to eat.”
Jimin drives a very nice car, Taehyung loves taking selfies on the leather seat. On their way to the mall – to get McDonald’s – they don’t talk about Jungkook. Instead, they make idle talk for a while before Jimin remembers a gossip he heard from someone he knows about someone they know and they spend the next fifteen minutes talking shit about other people. Taehyung feels at ease with Jimin. There’s no space for the tightness of his heart in between them, and so that’s forgotten.
It isn’t exactly easy to make Jimin let go from something he thinks it’s his business, though, so when they are done with their sandwiches and their cokes are watered down from the melting ice, Jimin cleans his mouth with the napkin and says, “You gotta stop avoiding him, though.”
He hasn’t talked to Jungkook in over a week now. “Can’t.”
Jimin clicks his tongue. “How are we going to keep the band going if you don’t talk?”
“Jimin, I’m not in the band,” He says. “Besides, we were doing just fine before.”
“ Just fine,” Jimin mimics him – very poorly, mind you. “It was hell to have both of you in the studio.”
“Then I’ll stop showing up at practice. I think it’s pretty fucking obvious I have no band anymore. I’m bandless.”
“You have us,” He says. “You’ve had a place in the fucking band since the beginning. You’re at every practice, we ask you for advice all the time. You’re in. Don’t make it sound like you’re not part of it.”
Jimin sounds hurt, so Taehyung backtracks.
“Not officially.”
“Do you want a fucking formal invitation? Is that it?”
“I do.”
“You are such a princess.”
“Don’t be sexist.”
“Context matters, Taehyung.”
“Hoseok is teaching you bad things.”
Jimin blushes. “I’ll invite you formally tomorrow at practice, so be there.”
Taehyung notices the sudden and not subtle subject change, but he smiles and lets it slide. “Fine.”
Tomorrow, if he’s being honest, can’t come fast enough. He’d never admit it aloud and he shouldn’t even admit it to himself – it’s dangerously close to acknowledging something he doesn’t want to acknowledge – but he misses Jungkook. He wants to see him so badly it makes him feel brainless.
“And what are you going to do about Jungkook?” Jimin asks.
“Nothing?” He replies.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m trying not to be stupid, Jimin, and anything I do is going to end up making me feel more than just a little stupid. Because all I can think of doing is something that I won’t be able to take back.”
“I know why you feel that way,” Jimin says. “He’s too close for comfort. But he’s not your ex-boyfriend.”
Taehyung swallows, trying to clear his throat; there’s a knot there that makes it very hard. He sighs. “I’ll handle it.”
He's nervous about seeing Jungkook again. At least they won’t be alone at practice, which makes Taehyung feel a little bit more in control of the situation. Not as in control as he’d like to be, but close enough. Jimin gives him a ride back to his apartment and leaves him with clear instructions for how to answer the message he’s gonna send in the group chat later today. Taehyung swears he will answer before kissing Jimin’s forehead and getting out of the car.
He gets busy with tuning his guitar and when that’s done he finds himself in the kitchen, reheating a lasagna he bought the day before. And when he finishes eating the lasagna and Jimin still hasn’t texted, Taehyung gets some work done for school – he finishes writing a paper, starts his research and answers an online quiz that isn’t due until tomorrow night.
He’s running out of things to do when Jimin finally texts.
I’m calling in an urgent meeting!! Tomorrow at the studio. No one is allowed to skip practice.
Jimin’s instructions were clear: Taehyung had to be the first to answer as a way of showing how very engaged he was with the band. He texts back, Okay!!! I’ll be there ><
Now all he has to do is wait.
Taehyung is the very opposite of a lucky man. He is the absolute opposite of a man in control – because Jimin had said six pm at the studio but the only person at the studio at that moment was Taehyung.
And then at 6:12 pm, Jungkook opened the door.
And now it’s 6:20 and Jungkook hadn’t said a word to Taehyung and Taehyung hadn’t even looked at Jungkook and it feels weird and it feels wrong because this is not who they are. Jungkook has his back to Taehyung as he strums his guitar and Taehyung knows he’s the reason why they are awkward and silent. Because he made it weird when he decided to ignore Jungkook and avoid him at all costs.
Foolishly, he had thought that it’d be fine if they went back to how things were a month and a half ago – but they aren’t fine. Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek, uncomfortable and dying to reach out and touch Jungkook’s shoulder, get his attention, make him talk.
The irony isn’t lost to him. He’s got the space he wanted – he forced them apart with his own hands and now that Jungkook isn’t talking to him, he’s realised he made the wrong choice, but there’s nothing he can do. He should’ve drowned the insistent and horrible voice inside his head that was telling him he couldn’t get closer to Jungkook. The voice was very convincing, though, and Taehyung was somehow still too freshly traumatised with the poor choices he makes when he’s feeling something for someone to understand that, perhaps, shutting out a friend was the wrong move.
He doesn’t even know if Jungkook feels the same pull in the gut that he feels when he’s around Jungkook. That day, seemingly so long ago at Jungkook’s apartment, when Taehyung realised that he didn’t want to leave Jungkook’s side, that it felt good to lay his head on his chest – that day might mean nothing to Jungkook. But to Taehyung it meant everything; it meant bad news, it meant he wanted someone he couldn’t want, it meant he was falling back into old habits: wanting someone who could fuck up the band he was about to become a part of, wanting someone who belonged to the same friend group he belonged to. Was his last experience totally useless? Why couldn’t he, for once, want someone who wasn't deeply connected to everything else that mattered to him?
A guy on tinder, a classmate. Some guy at the bar in a club he went to on a Friday night. Anyone that wasn’t Jungkook would do, but it wasn’t anyone. He isn’t ready to even think the words inside his stupid head, but he forces himself to think them: it isn’t anyone, it is Jungkook.
He wants Jungkook. There, there.
“Jungkook?” He says, tentatively.
But Jungkook doesn’t answer and before Taehyung can say anything, the door opens again to reveal Jimin and Hoseok – absurdly late.
“Y’all are here!” Hoseok says. “Wow, so sharp.”
Jungkook sighs. “Hyung, you guys are late.”
Taehyung feels his rib cage tightening upon hearing Jungkook’s voice after so many days. He has missed him – badly. The thing about Taehyung is that he is easy. He gives love easily, and Jungkook is so easy to love; they are a match in that department, which is scary and makes Taehyung feel like a bare wire. Jungkook is such an important friend, such a good friend that it doesn’t matter if they didn’t talk for a year after meeting each other. Taehyung got so used to having Jungkook close every day, so used to texting Jungkook the entire morning instead of paying attention to class His heart welcomed Jungkook effortlessly, and now there’s no way Taehyung will manage to kick him out.
Sometimes he will go days without seeing Jimin, and it sucks but it’s fine. But the days that he didn’t see Jungkook were unbearable because they became so close that not talking to him, not seeing him was a travesty, and Taehyung could only blame himself. He’s making all the wrong choices, but that’s just how he is when he’s so full of feelings that they start leaking out of him. He knows how to deal with that.
But what he doesn’t know how to deal with is the desire. The want. He wants more than he can have because that – the friendship – is all he can ask from Jungkook. Anything more than that is a horrifying thing to do. He could lose everything that he still has. Taehyung went through this before, losing a band and friends – Jungkook wouldn’t hurt him like that, but it could end any other way and it meant he would go through that again.
But he wants; he wants so much more than friendship. He wants to touch, to kiss, to bite– to feel Jungkook in a way that friends don’t.
“–Taehyung!”
He startles, looking at Jimin. “What?”
“I said, ” Jimin repeats. “That I want you in the band!”
“Me too,” Hoseok says. “I thought you being part of the band was a given, really, like who else would be in the band if not you?” He shrugs. “But you know Jimin likes grand gestures.”
Taehyung smiles. He clears his throat. “What about you?” He asks, glancing at Jungkook. “I know you don’t like people in your space.”
It’s a tentative joke and it falls flat – so flat that Taehyung cringes internally. Jungkook doesn’t look at him when he says, “Fine for me.”
Like it doesn’t matter. Taehyung ignored his texts for more than a week: he deserves the cold shoulder. Doesn’t hurt any less. Doesn’t make him want to grab Jungkook’s hands and say Sorry I’m a horrible friend or Sorry I’m having romantic and sexual and very non-platonic thoughts about you it is ruining our friendship any fucking less. He doesn’t say anything, though. Not about that , at least.
“That’s great, guys, it’s an honour for me. It really is.”
He gets a hug from Jimin, a pat on the back from Hoseok – more cold shoulder from Jungkook; this is dragging so long, Taehyung thinks. But he’s part of the band now, officially, so he tries to keep himself focused. They are at practice, after all, and he needs to cherish this – a new band, a new chance to play in festivals, a new chance to enter competitions, to do what he loves the most. The Jungkook situation can wait. It will wait. At least until practice is over.
But Taehyung is the opposite of a lucky man, isn’t he?
The Jungkook situation does not wait. Practice fucking sucks – Taehyung can’t stop thinking about making things right with Jungkook; he is visibly distracted, so distracted that Hoseok calls him out twice. Jungkook looks at him, then, but it feels off. It’s not the way he used to look at Taehyung in the beginning, but it’s also not the way he looked at Taehyung in the last few weeks of their friendship.
Taehyung really wants to go home.
“Tae, are you okay?” Hoseok asks. “If you wanna stop, just say the word.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “We have to practice. The festivals are starting soon.”
Jimin tilts his head. “We’ve been practising almost every week for months. One day isn’t going to set us back. Besides, we still have time.”
“Jungkook’s right,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sick or anything, I’m just– just distracted. I’m sorry.” He avoids Jungkook’s gaze; he’s scared of what he would find there.
“It’s chill, don’t sweat over it,” Hoseok says. “I think we should stop, though, we can practice another day in the week to make it up for today. Compromise, what do you think?” He uses his dad voice when talking to Jungkook.
Jungkook shrugs. “Alright.”
“Are you going to be okay? Jimin asks a few moments later when Taehyung is zipping his guitar case – they are in the far left corner of the studio, away from Hoseok and Jungkook. “I know why you’re distracted.”
“I know you do.”
“You gotta work it out. Especially now.”
“I know that, too.”
“Will you be okay?” Jimin whispers again. “I can come over if you want to.”
“No, it’s fine. I need some time alone to think about this– I gotta find a way of making him talk to me again. And then I’ll have to find a way of just– not wanting him, I guess.”
“Tae, you don’t have to–”
Taehyung stares at him. “Come on, you’re not that optimist.”
Jimin licks his lips. “That’s not– okay, fine. Yeah. Text me if you change your mind, alright?”
He nods, unable to say anything. He’s tired, he wants to get home and take a nap. He’ll think about how to work things out – but only after a nap.
Taehyung is a man of action more often than he’d like; he uses his words, talking and communicating aren’t things that scare him, but sometimes he would rather do something instead of saying something. It doesn’t always work – the last time he did something instead of talking he ended up ignoring Jungkook for more than a week, and now look at the consequences. He’d think he learnt something, but no, course not.
Once again, Taehyung chooses actions over words.
He woke up the day after the practice fiasco with a stiff neck because he had slept on the couch; he had thought of taking a nap, but his body had other things in mind apparently. So he woke up late for class and in yesterday’s clothes to find a bunch of messages on his phone; all of them were from Jimin.
He decided to reply after a shower and that was fifteen minutes ago. He is still under the shower – hot water turning his skin red. Today his head is a little clearer than it was yesterday and he can almost manage to put his feelings in their rightful place. First of all, ignoring Jungkook was a bad move, but the space was needed.
If Taehyung had seen him so soon after realising he wanted Jungkook like that, he’d have made a move on him– he’d have made a mess. Now he’s under control, he really is. He will be fine; there won’t be any jumping off cliffs, no rushed decisions. All he needs to do now is find a way to get Jungkook to forgive him.
Taehyung leaves the shower with a very dangerous idea in his head. He finds a pair of clean and warm sweatpants and curls a towel around his head, not bothering to dry his hair properly. He’s very average in the kitchen; he knows a few family recipes, he knows how to make a bunch of quick stuff to eat – because he’s a college student –, he wouldn’t call himself a chef, of course, but knowing the basics might be enough to what he plans on doing today.
He finds a brownie recipe on the internet, he doesn’t know if it’s a good recipe and he hates himself for not remembering how Jungkook made his brownies that one time at his house. That was the first time he was ever at Jugkook’s house; now he’s been there a lot, he doesn’t know Jungkook’s bedroom, but he knows he’s got five small and yellow rubber ducks on his shower wall’s shelf.
He focuses on reading the recipe. It takes a lot of focusing, and a lot of flour apparently? Taehyung tries his best, though, because this is how he’s going to ask for a second chance. A peace offering of some sort. He pours the batter onto a baking pan he doesn’t even remember buying and puts the pan inside the oven. While he waits forty minutes for it to bake, Taehyung waddles to his room to change his clothes – he finds himself drawn to the soft cotton shirt, the loose linen pants, always choosing the most comfortable clothes.
His hair is damp, shaggy and a mess, but he brushes it off his face and unplugs his phone from the charger. Jimin has called him. Fuck, he thinks, rushing to send him a text.
I’m baking brownies, he says, sorry I didn’t answer before.
You are BAKING? , Jimin sends back in less than ten seconds. I didn’t even know you owned an oven.
Of course, I own an oven, how do you think I make toast?
Taehyung are you fucking kidding me? WITH A TOASTER?
Taehyung laughs as he types his reply. Yeah, I don’t own a toaster.
Jimin doesn’t answer for a few moments so Taehyung scrolls through Instagram while waiting; he doesn’t post selfies as much as Jimin or Hoseok and he’s got way more followers than he deserves, but he loves to scroll through the platform, especially if people are posting pictures of their pets. He gets so distracted that he almost forgets the brownies in the oven.
Taehyung’s brownie looks… dry. He fucked up, he should’ve read the comments of the recipe he found; these definitely do not taste as good as the brownies Jungkook bakes, but… Taehyung shrugs, getting a knife to cut the brownie into squares before fetching a spoon to extract them from the baking pan – but he fails at that, too. The brownies are stuck.
He thinks, no, he’s sure he did something very wrong when he was baking because they weren’t supposed to stick to the pan. He tries to get them off by scrubbing the knife under the brownies, but it doesn’t work, just makes a mess. Taehyung breathes out a defeated sigh.
He hopes – he really fucking does – that they taste better than they look. They’re hot, and he’s learnt his lesson, so Taehyung waits for them to cool off while he calls an Uber to Jungkook’s house because it’s cheaper than a taxi. He was gonna take the subway, but now that the brownies are stuck to the damn baking pan, Taehyung will have to take them like this. The entire pan. On his hands. He can’t take the subway now, can he? He fetches his phone, the pan with the dry brownies and gets into the elevator when the Uber is two minutes away.
On his way to Jungkook’s house, Taehyung tries out one of the brownies. It doesn’t taste as it should taste. It’s not good, but it’s also not bad. It’s dry and the chocolate is so light that he has to focus to taste it at all, but it’s not inedible and he tried his best – he really fucking did. He’s disappointed and angry, but he’s already on his way to Jungkook’s house now so he resigns himself.
The elevator ride is the quickest this elevator has ever moved. Taehyung barely has the time to decide what he’s going to say before the elevator opens and he has to knock on Jungkook’s door.
He knocks, lightly, and balances the pan with the brownies in one hand. Taehyung is so nervous, his throat is dry and his hands are definitely sweating, but he knocks again and then–
Then Jungkook opens the door.
“Hi,” Taehyung says. “I made you brownies.”
Jungkook stares at the pan on his hand, covered with a dishrag, but doesn’t say anything.
Taehyung continues, “It stuck to the pan when I tried to get them off after cutting them into very perfect squares. So I gave up,” He shrugs, uncomfortable with the heavy, overwhelming weight of Jungkook’s eyes. “I brought them on the pan.”
“I can see that,” Jungkook says. He pulls the dishrag away to eye the brownies. “They look good. You should’ve used parchment. It wouldn’t have stuck.”
“Oh,” Taehyung says. “I– I forgot about that.”
He shifts on his feet – Jungkook hasn’t invited him in yet What does that mean? Does he not want Taehyung in his apartment? Jungkook sighs, stepping aside and taking the pan from Taehyung’s hand.
“Come in, Taehyung. Thanks for the brownies.”
“You wouldn’t be thanking me if you had tasted them.”
Jungkook huffs out a laugh. “You could’ve made something easier,” He says, putting the brownies on the kitchen counter. “They look a little dry.”
“They are. I don’t know why.”
“Too much flour.”
“Damn, that’s it! I found a recipe online, and I couldn’t text you because that would ruin the surprise.”
Jungkook looks at him. “Thought you didn’t have my number anymore.”
Taehyung sighs. “Okay, I deserved that. But! I made the brownies as an apology. I’m sorry they suck– and I’m sorry I suck too.”
“You could tell me what happened, how about that?” Jungkook says, sitting on the couch and tapping the empty space next to him. “I’m not gonna kick you out.”
Taehyung smiles nervously. How can he explain what happened? He sits next to Jungkook, feeling the warmth emanating from him, the smell of his perfume. He didn’t come here to talk about that, he came to get his friend back. But even sitting here next to Jungkook is making him dizzy and the burning on the pit of his stomach is a clear sign that he can’t escape this. “I am… a mess, that’s pretty much what happened. I don’t know how to tell you this,” He turns to face Jungkook. “Because I don't want things to get awkward between us – especially now that I’m in the band for real and in a few months we are gonna start participating in music festivals and stuff like that, God, I miss that feeling, you know?”
“Taehyung, focus.”
“Right! Well, so…” Is he going to say it? Is he truly going to tell the truth? Taehyung takes a deep breath. “Jungkook, I think I’m–” What is he going to fucking say? I ’m attracted to you. I'm very attracted to you . Sometimes I think maybe I’m more than very attracted to you. Come on, Taehyung. “I am in no position to want, but sometimes we can’t control ourselves, right? Sometimes we just– we feel things we shouldn’t feel. Sometimes our feelings work against us. I had a bad experience, I got the worst outcome and I’m here now taking the same road. I am making the same mistake.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the mess I made.”
“You’re not being clear,” Jungkook says. “And I need you to be clear. Because I need to know if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
“What do you think I’m saying?”
“I asked you first.”
He licks his lips. “Remember the level thing? That day you baked the brownies and you said I had to unlock levels to get to know you?”
“Yeah.”
“It worked,” Taehyung says. “It worked really fucking well, Jungkook because I’m obsessed with you now. I forced you away these last few days because I was desperate to get some space. Because I’m– I’m more than just a little into you. And I’ve been here before and I don’t wanna lose all this–” He says; he means the band, the friends. But mostly, he means Jungkook and his friendship. The ease of their proximity, the contentment he gets from just being around him; the exhilaration; the brightness. He knows these are valuable and he knows that this thing growing inside him, its greediness, and its dirtiness are bound to simply ruin everything else. “I’ve lost these exact things before. Just a few months ago. I can’t do all that again.”
“It’s different, though. Is it not?”
Taehyung doesn’t say anything, so Jungkook continues, “Because I’m not Geun. I’m not your ex-boyfriend and Jimin and Hoseok aren’t your old friends. This is not– it’s not the same situation. The band, the friends. Wanting something else isn’t going to make you lose it.” Taehyung suspects Jungkook might’ve wanted to say, wanting me isn’t going to make you lose it – but he can’t be sure.
“I thought I wouldn’t lose everything else back then, and look where it got me.”
“Where? Where did it get you? Aren’t you happy? Isn’t what you have now enough?”
“It is– it is more than enough.”
“Then I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you try?”
“Because–” Taehyung tries. He has to pause, though, to think of his next words carefully. “Because for some reason I think getting over him was much easier than getting over you would ever be.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Why do you think you’d have to get over me?”
“Jungkook, have you ever been in love?”
“No,” He replies. “You know I haven’t. Not– not before...” His voice fades away.
Before me, Taehyung thinks. He’s scared shitless of this thought.
“If this goes wrong, I’ll have ruined it for you.”
Jungkook laughs. “Jesus, I get why you’re such a pessimist, but it’s hard to hear you talking like that,” He reaches for Taehyung’s face, holding him delicately. “Taehyung, I’m more than just a little into you. Have been more than just a little into you ever since we met and you had a boyfriend and you messed up in practice and you suggested changes on a setlist that I spent the whole night coming up with. Have been more than just a little into you when I offered you a ride for the first time and when I tuned your guitar because your fingertips were hurting – you never use the fucking guitar pick –, and I have been, quite fucking literally, crazy about you for every single day since we became friends. And I was okay with being friends for a while, but it is not enough. So I’m telling you now– I’m warning you right now, that if you feel the same I’ll never let you go. Do you understand? I will not let you go.”
“How can you know that?” Taehyung says and his voice cracks, he feels his throat closing on him. He didn’t know how fucked up he was – this thing with Jungkook had, for the most part, shielded him from processing how fucking traumatised it was to be cheated on and treated like shit the way he was. He didn’t even realise how deep the scars were because he had this new and fresh friendship blossoming and he couldn’t, he wouldn’t focus on the hurt.
But now the friendship has become something else and Taehyung can’t hide from this monster anymore.
Jungkook pulls him close until Taehyung’s head is on his shoulder and his face is pressed against Jungkook’s neck. His skin is warm, his touch is welcome and his scent is calming, but what really makes Taehyung come undone in his embrace is the way Jungkook softly whispers very close to Taehyung’s ear, “He hurt you really badly, love, and I hate that I can’t help with that. But I’m not him.”
“I know Jungkook, I know . I’m just, fuck, this is pathetic– I am pathetic.”
“You’re everything but pathetic.”
Taehyung laughs. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”
“I know,” Jungkook kisses his forehead.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, closing his eyes. He kisses Jungkook’s throat, lingering there for a minute too long. This does nothing to quench his thirst, but it’s enough to make Jungkook shudder under him. “I am afraid to admit that I think– I think I’ve never felt like this before. Not even with him and– and if this goes wrong I’ll literally never recover.”
Jungkook touches the small of his back, pressing his fingers against the dents on the end of his spine under his shirt. “I’ve never felt like this either.”
Taehyung laughs. “And you’re not scared?”
“I don’t know, maybe? I heard that falling in love feels devastating.”
Taehyung kisses his throat again, opening his mouth just a little, just so he’d be able to press the tip of his tongue on Jungkook’s skin. He tastes his cologne, and he likes it. Jungkook squeezes his thigh as a warning. “Don’t do this to me,” He says. “You’re driving me crazy and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“Then kiss me.”
“If I kiss you we won’t be able to take any of this back. It’ll be easier to pretend we never talked about this if I don’t get–”
“Do you want to? To pretend this never happened?”
Jungkook shifts on the couch, laying down and pulling Taehyung’s body on top of him, head tucked under his chin; his hand feels warm and huge on the small of his back, his pinky finger scrapping the hem of Taehyung’s pants. “I’m talking about you, Tae, you’re the one holding back.”
Taehyung ponders about this; it’s true. He’s the one stepping on the brakes ever since he felt this spark for the first time. On the days he spent next to Jungkook, he was always careful, always watchful of where his feet were wandering to. It didn’t always work, because if it had they wouldn’t be here now.
He wouldn’t have baked dry brownies as an apology for having avoided his friend if the said friend was just a friend. He wouldn’t have avoided him in the first place, because he wouldn’t have thought he needed to. But then again – he didn’t even notice. Taehyung didn’t think it would happen.
He had told Jimin, long ago, that when he felt ready to try again it would not be with Jungkook: he was too close for comfort. But he didn’t realise that every second next to Jungkook was making him desperate to try again, to reach out and make something else out of their friendship and by the time he understood what was happening it was already too late.
“Just one kiss,” Taehyung says. “And then we can, I don’t know, we can take things slow.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm,” He says, lifting his head to stare at Jungkook. He is so beautiful, Taehyung can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. He reaches for Jungkook’s face, fingers touching his cheek softly. Taehyung leans in, just one breath away. “We don’t have to rush, right?”
“No,” Jungkook replies, eyes falling to Taehyung’s mouth and then up again, eyes curious and heated and searching. “Just one kiss and you’ll go home?”
“I’ll go home,” Taehyung nods, his hand slides from Jungkook’s cheek to his chin, positioning his head. “And you’ll stay here.”
“I will,” Jungkook says, raising his head just a tad bit until their lips touch slightly. “One kiss.”
Taehyung slots their mouths together – he doesn’t close his eyes at first, instead, taking in how beautiful Jungkook looks with his eyes closed, his long eyelashes dancing across his cheeks. Then, Taehyung closes his eyes and opens his mouth, involving Jungkook’s bottom lip in between his; he feels Jungkook breathing in, he feels Jungkook pulling him closer, he feels Jungkook’s heartbeat. He never wants to stop kissing him.
He will make sure he’ll never have to stop kissing him.
It is decided that they will take it slow; that they won’t tell anybody; that they will be careful. It is decided that they will keep a reasonable distance during practice; that they will lie low. It is decided that they won’t hang around each other when they’re out for drinks.
But it is all easier said than done. Now that Taehyung doesn’t have to keep himself in check, his mind wanders without limits, his brain cruel with the number of images it conjures in the most inopportune moments. It’s Wednesday and they had decided they wouldn’t be obvious because their thing – thing is a light way to put it, he knows –, their thing is tentative and so it’s truly the best decision.
But it is almost impossible. Taehyung is sitting across from Jungkook in a pub downtown, known for its colourful drinks. The booth seems bigger than it really is. Jungkook is drunk, cheeks flushed and lips bitten from how long he spends chewing on them. He’s got an arm stretched out in the back of the chair, biceps straining against the hem of his shirt. Taehyung, lightheaded and tipsy, thinks he’d like to use his teeth all over Jungkook’s body – but he doesn’t say that, he doesn’t do anything.
They get drunk with Jimin and Hoseok, and Taehyung eats a hot dog from a very questionable food truck on the corner of the pub when they are leaving. He’s messy when eating, because he might be a little drunker than he thought he was, and Jungkook cleans the ketchup off his bottom lip with his thumb; Taehyung flushes a deep, horrifying red when Jungkook sucks his thumb into his mouth.
And then, in the back of his head, a voice tells him that’s not what being subtle means. But he’s drunk and Jungkook is drunk and Jimin is drunk – Hoseok is not, but he’s distracted with the way Jimin has both hands on either side of his hips. This might be okay, this might be fine.
He gets on the subway, waves goodbye to his friends. His eyes linger on Jungkook through the subway window and Jungkook – beautiful, sweet Jungkook – blows him a kiss. Jimin notices, but instead of squinting and making dangerous connections inside his brain, he giggles and sends Taehyung a kiss. And then they are both jumping on their feet, blowing kisses at him. The subway takes off, carrying a lightheaded and lighthearted Taehyung away.
On Thursday, it gets harder. They are watching a seminar on campus, Hoseok seated next to them; but Hoseok is focused on the seminar, notepad filled with notes about the presentation. Taehyung can’t say he even remembers what the seminar is about. The room gets dark, a video starts rolling. Jungkook’s nails are tracing patterns on the inside of Taehyung’s forearm, the sensitive skin getting red from the scribbles. He gets restless on the seat. A forearm couldn’t be this arousing, could it? He couldn't be affected by just that.
But he is– he really is. Taehyung pulls his arm back sharply and Jungkook looks at him. He definitely knows what he’s doing, because he smiles and tries to grab Taehyung’s forearm again and they start shuffling on their seats. Hoseok gets annoyed, slaps Jungkook on the shoulder and they giggle, trying to quiet their voices.
This is horrible, Taehyung can’t seem to think about anything that isn’t Jungkook even when Jungkook is right next to him. The desire, the almost unbearable need to get closer, to touch and feel is leaving him dizzy and crazy. Taking things slowly, being subtle, trying to keep it on the low – these were definitely stupid ideas.
He doesn’t care about being subtle, he doesn’t give a damn about taking things slow when it’s about Jungkook. He should’ve realised this sooner, he should’ve said that when Jungkook was asking. If he gives up this carefulness, will he regret making that decision? Taehyung has a hundred things to regret, but he doesn’t think it would work like that. He doesn’t think he’d ever regret Jungkook.
They leave the seminar with Hoseok in between them, a steady and strong presence keeping them in check. Taehyung is grateful for that.
On Friday, Taehyung feels like he’ll lose his mind any second. They are in the studio, Jimin is telling a story – something about someone –, Hoseok is rolling his eyes and Jungkook is sitting on the floor, leaning back on his hands. Taehyung keeps looking at him, cataloguing every little detail about this beautiful boy. Every day he becomes prettier, Taehyung thinks.
They work out a new setlist for the upcoming festival season; cover gigs are fun but Taehyung really wishes they’d play something original. Three sets of forty minutes taken over by covers aren’t going to take them too far. He doesn’t think he’s ready to offer his songs, though.
He focuses on playing the guitar as Jungkook sings a few songs. His voice is amazing, it’s almost infuriating to him how good he is at everything. But he focuses and for once his head is filled with non-Jungkook things. It’s an alien feeling, but it makes Taehyung realise he’s still capable of separating himself from Jungkook when needed. It is great to feel obsessed with someone and know they’re obsessed with you – but it’s a dangerous thing. It is a better feeling when you are obsessed with someone and still manage to take control of yourself.
When they are getting done, the last few notes of a Tame Impala song – that Taehyung didn’t know until Jungkook shared his earbuds with him that one time – echo in the studio. This is the kind of music that they all enjoy playing, the kind of music that Taehyung likes coming up with. There’s talk around him as he places his guitar on the stand, but he doesn’t pay too much attention.
He feels something poking him in between the shoulder blades. He turns around to find Jimin there. “Are you even listening?”
“Not really,” He answers honestly. “What’s up?”
“Hoseok wanted to try out that sushi bar two blocks away from here. Do you wanna come? Jungkook doesn’t wanna go,” Jimin rolls his eyes, then he adds in a lower tone, “But he’d go if you are coming.”
“Uh,” Taehyung says, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll pass.”
Jimin presses his lips together. “Right, then! It’s just you and me, old guy.”
Hoseok sends him a look. “So you’re paying.”
“This happens every time,” Jimin whines as they leave the studio. The door closing softly behind them.
Taehyung looks at Jungkook. “You really didn’t wanna go? It’s uncommon for you to pass on free food.”
“I’d rather spend some time with you.”
He blushes, shaking his head. “Clingy.”
Jungkook shrugs. “But you know what?”
“What?”
“This worked out better than I expected. We are alone in the studio.”
“I noticed.”
“So you can fulfil your promise.”
Taehyung shifts on his feet. “You’ll have to be more clear.”
“Play me one of your songs.”
“Absolutely not.”
Jungkook grins. “You promised.”
“Fuck,” Taehyung says. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to say anything.”
“Why?”
“Because I know when you’re lying.”
“So?”
“I’ll know if you hate it. I’d rather not know so you can’t say anything.”
“How do you know I’ll hate it? You’re always putting words in my mouth.”
“I could put something else in your mouth if you don’t like my words.”
“Don’t tease. You’ll not distract me. Get the guitar.”
Taehyung obeys. He gets his guitar and sits on the floor with his back plastered against the glass window. Jungkook watches him with hawk eyes. “What?” He asks, feeling warm under his stare.
“You’re so fucking pretty.”
“Shut up, oh my God.”
Jungkook laughs. He crosses the studio just so he’d sit in front of Taehyung. “Let’s hear it.” He offers Taehyung his guitar pick.
“Okay,” He says, breathing out. “Don’t say anything.”
“Just play the guitar, Tae.”
He chooses a song he composed not so long ago. It’s a calm song, the guitar heavy and crisp. It’s not the kind of song Jungkook plays on his guitar, probably not the kind of music he’s got on his playlist. But Taehyung loses himself when he starts playing. The chords rich under his fingertips, the sound resonating loud and clean. It’s not the longest song he’s ever composed, but it is a little longer than most.
He doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be a romantic song, a dark and sad song. He feels mellow and the very opposite of hollow when he’s playing it – that’s all he knows.
Taehyung is vulnerable and exposed, but he doesn’t hate the feeling. It scares him, definitely, makes his hands tremble around the guitar. But he doesn’t hate the feeling. His fingers move smoothly over the strings, he can’t remember the last time he played something so personal with an audience. The song is good, Taehyung knows that. He understands every buttery chord and he likes this song. When the last note dissipates into thin air, he breathes out a relieved sigh.
“There,” He says, placing his guitar softly on the floor next to him. “That’s the song I was humming that day.”
Jungkook stares at him, not saying anything. Over time, Taehyung has started to understand Jungkook’s blank expressions, but this one – this one he can’t quite get.
“Say something,” He whines. The silence is unbearable. “I changed my mind. I feel worse like this.”
“That sounds really, really fucking good, Tae,” Jungkook says at last. “I– I don’t know what you had in mind when you were composing it, but I felt– I felt full? No, that’s not the word. I felt–”
“Complete?” Taehyung offers.
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “Complete.”
“The very opposite of hollow,” Taehyung says. He stares – he stares at Jungkook. His gaze is hot and dirty and so, so consuming. He can’t control it, can’t take back some of the fire of it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jungkook asks.
“I’m trying to remind myself we’re taking it slow.”
“Why?”
“Because what I want to do to you right now isn’t what taking it slow means,” Taehyung says. “It’s driving me mad.”
Jungkook kneels on the linoleum floor. “Yeah?” He crawls, closer and closer to Taehyung. Jungkook puts his hands on Taehyung’s legs, uncrossing them, spreading them apart. He fits perfectly here.
Taehyung, weak and wanting, places his hands on Jungkook’s hips. “Jungkook.”
“Yes, Tae?”
He curls a hand around Jungkook’s strong thigh, pulling his leg over one of his. This way, Jungkook is straddling one of his legs, hips are flushed hot against Taehyung’s belly. “Kiss me.”
Jungkook's lips are soft, the glide is smooth and slow. It's a warm and wet kiss, and the way he traces Taehyung's lips with the wet tip of his tongue is what makes Taehyung realises he's truly being kissed. He doesn't remember being kissed like that. He has kissed quite a lot in his life, but this is a different kiss altogether.
It's graceful and full of desire – a desire that Taehyung knows very well; it's like a mirror, as if he's on the receiving end of his own desire –, their noses bump softly because there's no rush, but it doesn't mean there's not gasping and no gripping and no urgency. Jungkook seems to be urgent in the way he presses himself fully against Taehyung's body, in the way he grasps Taehyung's face. His touch is tense and sharp against Taehyung's skin. It’s wanting, it’s demanding.
His grip on Jungkook's hips tighten and he feels it mirrored in the way Jungkook presses his thighs closed around Taehyung's leg.
They can’t go any further here – that’s the only reason why Taehyung pushes Jungkook an inch away. “Not on the studio floor,” is all he says, but Jungkook giggles, hiding his face on the crook of Taehyung’s neck.
“On my floor?” He offers.
“What about a bed?” Taehyung says.
Jungkook breathes in. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“No more taking it slow?”
Taehyung slides his hands from Jungkook’s hips to his ass. “Nah.”
No one could make him explain how they got to Jungkook’s apartment. He doesn’t remember if it was a taxi or an Uber, he doesn’t remember who called, who paid for it. Taehyung only remembers this: getting home and trapping Jungkook between his chest and the door. His heart pounding inside his ribcage, his knees getting weak.
“Tae,” Jungkook says, softly and searing. His lips scrapping Taehyung’s mouth. “Are you sure?”
“Asking me again is not gonna change my answer,” Taehyung says, pulling Jungkook’s shirt up until he’s able to touch the flat planes of his stomach. “Stop asking.”
“Okay,” Jungkook whispers, head thumping against the door. His hand is gripping Taehyung’s nape so firmly that it might’ve hurt if Taehyung cared at all about anything that wasn’t his mouth pressed, hot and wet and open, on Jungkook’s skin. He licks stripes from the base of his neck up to his chin, bites Jungkook’s bottom lip before pulling away.
“Bed.”
Jungkook nods. His room has the teen emo vibe that Taehyung had suspected so long ago, the dark bed sheets, the band posters on the wall behind the bed, the dark wallpaper. He can’t focus too much on the details though, because as they stumble inside the room Jungkook starts taking off his clothes.
Taehyung follows suit. First his yellow sweater, then his jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater, it’s a baggy sweater, so it always falls lower on his frame, leaving his collarbones on show. Jungkook watches from the bed, naked and flushed pink. “If I asked you to keep the sweater, would you?”
Taehyung smiles. “Yeah.”
“Then keep it.”
He obeys, fetching the sweater from the floor. He puts it on and crosses the room, falling with his back flat on the bed. “Take these off of me,” He orders, raising his hips a little.
Jungkook licks his lips. He pulls Taehyung’s underwear slowly until he’s naked from the waist down. There’s raw emotion in the way Jungkook touches his body. It is almost enough to make the world stop. It makes Taehyung feel as if they are the only people in the world. There’s a window on Jungkook’s bedroom wall, half-covered by a grey curtain.
The only light in the room is coming from there, bathing Jungkook in the rays of a sunset, orange lighting against pale skin. He looks unreal, as if Taehyung had dreamed him into reality. He reaches for Jungkook’s nipples, touching them lightly.
Jungkook falls forward, whining and grunting and desperate for more. Taehyung smiles. “Look at you,” He says, wishing Jungkook could do exactly that. Next time they’ll need a mirror. The tip of Jungkook’s dick is wet and dripping. “Oh, this is going to ruin my sweater.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” Jungkook says, moving his hips so his dick drags along Taehyung’s sweater, making a bigger mess. “Let’s leave this one for the bedroom.”
“Dirty minded,” Taehyung says. “Where are the condoms?”
“Let me get them,” Jungkook says. He disappears for a few moments and it’s enough to make Taehyung hungry again. Not touching Jungkook is a perversion. When Jungkook is back on top of him he feels at home, as if this is the only place he truly fits: Jungkook’s bed.
“How do you like it?” Taehyung asks. His dick is so hard it hurts, flushed hot against the back of Jungkook’s thigh. The more Jungkook moves on top of him, the harder he gets. The more Jungkook speaks the harder he gets. The more Jungkook exists the harder he gets. It’s a chain reaction.
“ However you want.”
“Great,” Taehyung says. “Let’s get you wet and ready for me, then.”
Jungkook whines. His hair is sweaty already, smothered against his skin. Pressing his palm flat against Jungkook’s cock, Taehyung rubs him, making him whimper and squeeze his eyes shut. “Thought you wanted to– to get me wet– fuck, to open me up.”
“I do,” Taehyung says, laughing as Jungkook squirms, rocking his hips upward for more. Then, he moves both his hands to Jungkook's ass, then spreads them wide to expose his hole. It tugs at the skin there and Jungkook groans. But it’s the heat of that specific moment that makes Taehyung tremble under Jungkook's body.
"Do you wanna open me up?"
Taehyung shakes his head, "Next time," He says, bringing one hand to stroke up and down Jungkook’s side, moulding his palm to the pretty and narrow curve of his waist. "I wanna watch you now, while you do that to yourself. Don't you want to show me, Jungkook?" He squeezes his waist. "Don't you wanna show me how you fuck yourself?"
"Jesus, Tae," He says, reaching one hand behind his back. "You're mouthy."
"I forgot about that," He says, watching as Jungkook presses one dry finger inside himself. "No lube?"
Jungkook shakes his head, his hair catching on the thin sheen of sweat over his forehead. "In a minute. I like the sting at first."
"Oh," Taehyung says. "Good?"
"Good, fuck-"
This was a very good choice, Taehyung thinks to himself. He gets to see the frown of pleasure on Jungkook's face, his teeth biting against his red lip, the sweat dripping on his cheekbone.
He gets to watch as his stomach flexes, his thighs tremble on each side of Taehyung's hips. He gets to see Jungkook's dick twitching every time he presses another finger deep inside. He wants to touch and so he does, grabbing Jungkook's dick by the base and pumping slowly. A needy, urgent moan spills from his lips, his jaw going slack, his body jolting as he tries to keep himself upright, but his hands are both busy behind him, so Taehyung has to get a firm hold of Jungkook's waist. This moan, this needy and broken moan, awakes a very sharp and hungry and unhinged thing inside Taehyung.
He can't name it, but it makes him want to destroy Jungkook. He uses the hand on Jungkook's waist to push him off himself, and he moves quickly to manhandle Jungkook on the bed. In one second, Jungkook is laying on his belly, fingers still – for Taehyung's total awe – inside his ass. “Okay?” He asks.
Jungkook nods frantically. “More than.”
“Take your fingers out,” Taehyung says and Jungkook obeys instantly. He fetches the lube bottle, uncapping and squeezing the bottle in between Jungkook’s cheeks, getting him messy and wet and ready, just like he said he’d do. “Hold it apart.”
Jungkook only moans, once again putting both hands behind his back and spreading his asscheeks. Taehyung’s mouth waters at the sight. He starts to push in. It must hurt, of course it must hurt, Jungkook had two fingers as prep while Taehyung is definitely bigger than that, but Jungkook said he liked the sting, didn't he? He opens up anyway, muscles clenching tight around the girth of Taehyung's dick.
"Okay?" He asks again.
"Never– never been better," He whimpers, trying to glance over his shoulder at Taehyung and failing because Taehyung chooses that moment to slide in the remaining inches, hips angled to push his dick along Jungkook's prostate. Jungkook turns to molten lava on the bed, hot and red against the dark bed sheets. His hands are still spreading himself apart, so Taehyung takes pity on him, brushing them away.
Immediately, Jungkook folds his arms on the bed and buries his head in them, panting raggedly. “D–don’t stop,” Jungkook stammers out. “If you do I'll never- damn, I'll never forgive you.”
Taehyung hums, licking his lips. It feels so good to be like this, buried to the hilt inside Jungkook, surrounded by his scent and sweat and sex and lube. He feels feverish, he feels out of his mind. He can't stop, he doesn't want to stop, every thrust makes him feel a little closer to understanding the meaning of life. "Don't worry about that. How do you feel?” He says, sounding insane to his own ears.
“Full,” Jungkook moans. “The very opposite of hollow.”
Taehyung snorts, thrusting deeper and harder until Jungkook slides up on the bed. His fingers grip Jungkook's hair, yanking his head back and forcing his throat into a sharp arch that makes it hard for him to breathe. "Oh, shit," Jungkook raps out, scrambling to adapt to the new position. “Fuck, Tae,”
“Tell me–” Taehyung starts, but he stops because Jungkook clenches around him and it’s maddening and it’s dirty and it feels like it should be illegal. “Tell me if I’m being too– too rough.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Taehyung leans in, smiling, to nip at Jungkook's ear. He misses seeing his face, but this position... There's something dirty and filthy and hot about this position. He loves this – he wants to fuck Jungkook like this every night and then turn him around and watch his face carefully as he slides into him once again in the morning.
He uses the hand in Jungkook's hair to turn his face to the side, mouth searching desperately. It’s a messy kiss, more tongue than lips, but it's good , it's wet and right and–
"Gonna come," Jungkook says against his mouth. "Is that– okay?"
He’s asking, his brain screams at him. Taehyung’s hand soothes over the curve of Jungkook's spine as he arches closer to the bed. He doesn't answer Jungkook's question. Partially because he doesn't trust his voice, but mostly because he wants to show him. He sets a dirty, furious pace and doesn’t waver, doesn’t ease up, fucking into Jungkook hard and deep, taking him apart just like he wanted to.
That little thing inside him, fierce and almost primitive, is content with the way things are going. Jungkook's moans turn louder and Taehyung worries about his throat, but then he's squeezing his walls, keeping Taehyung still and buried inside him and Taehyung forgets his own fucking name. Jungkook is so fucking delightful, so fucking magnificent. He grinds back against Taehyung, arching his back, even more, the perfect curve of it is the prettiest view Taehyung's has ever seen.
He rests his head in between Jungkook's shoulder blades, licking the sweat there, biting his nape until there are teeth marks on the skin. He rubs his nose against Jungkook's head, inhaling the sweaty and heady scent of him. "You're so perfect, Jungkook, you're so good,"
"Tae," He cries out. "Please, please-"
He's still waiting for permission. "Let me make you come, baby," Taehyung says, grinding his hips and Jungkook grows restless, more insistent and desperate, he relaxes and Taehyung doesn't waste time. He digs his fingers into the sensitive skin of Jungkook's waist, nails scraping skin. Taehyung fucks him like that, cock relentless and deep and hard as his nails cling to Jungkook's flesh, leaving marks everywhere.
“A– ah, fuck yes,” Jungkook says, breathless and dazed. “There, oh–”
Taehyung feels as Jungkook is coming. He can't really see his face or his dick, for that matter, but it's an experience ; Jungkook's whole body trembles, his voice gets stuck on his throat, his hands grip the bed sheet until his knuckles are white and his ass, Jesus, his ass gets so tight with the way he clenches that Taehyung feels suffocated, he feels trapped and crazy and he comes, too, because this is the best he'll ever feel. This is the rawest and happy and satisfied he’ll ever be.
“This is–” Jungkook starts pausing just to clear his throat; he sounds hoarse. “This is truly the opposite of what you said we had to do.”
Taehyung hums, placing kisses on Jungkook’s spine. “We can’t follow my advice. Never listen to me again. I suck.”
Jungkook giggles. “I’m really fucking happy right now, Tae.”
“I know,” Taehyung says, resting his head on Jungkook’s back. His cheek is warm and it feels warmer when pressed against Jungkook’s heated skin. “I feel really fucking happy, too.”
Taehyung feels the exact opposite of hollow – and this might be the first time he feels like that. Isn’t it weird? Isn’t it bizarre that he’d been in love before, but had never felt quite this complete? He’d read somewhere once that there are many types of love. Sometimes you don’t get to experience them all in just one life, so you come back and you come back and you come back; you come back how many times you need just to experience all the types of love there is.
But, sometimes, you get lucky.
You get to experience them all. And it must feel horrible and delightful and insane all at the same time, right? To feel so many different things, so many intense things at once. He doesn’t know what would be better.
To keep coming back, or to never come back at all.
He woke up fifteen minutes ago. He glanced to his side and there he was – Jungkook. Curled up against Taehyung’s chest, the bottom lip jutted out. His skin is marked with Taehyung’s teeth and his fingertips. Would Jungkook come back? Taehyung doesn’t think he’s experienced all there is to experience. Perhaps he will come back, then. Perhaps he’ll have to find a lot of different people in his next life.
Taehyung wants to come back if that’s the case. He wants to come back as each person Jungkook will fall in love with within the next thousand years. He reaches for Jungkook’s face, caressing his cheek with his index finger. God, he wants this boy to be the only boy he’ll ever love. He wants to be the only boy Jungkook will ever love.
Does that sound crazy? Taehyung watches Jungkook sleep, the rise and fall of his chest, the little tick of his closed eyelids.
He’ll wake up soon and this will be another day where Taehyung gets to love again. He’s very excited. Love, he has come to realise, is a gift. It’s sweet and sour, but it’s rich. It’s palpable. It’s strong and thick and true. It’s raw and good. Love and Jungkook are healing and happiness and peace. Loving Jungkook is exquisite.
“You’re staring,” Jungkook whispers, voice rough with sleep. His big eyes are bright and lovely.
“I am,” He replies, leaning in to press his lips on Jungkook’s forehead.
Taehyung wants to come back and come back and come back and he wants to find Jungkook again and again and again just to be able to love him over and over and over.