Chapter Text
“Taehyungah, when is your party again?”
Taehyung looked up from his ramen over the table at his older sister. “This Saturday. Mom and Dad said I could while they’re on their trip.” When Hani rolled her eyes at his words, Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh.
“Ugh, they totally spoil you.”
“It’s my good looks and winning charm,” he said cheekily, his mouth full.
“I hate being the eldest,” she pouted, “I never get any special treatment.”
“Aww Hani, you jealous?” Taehyung scrunched his nose, then coughed loudly as he saw Yoongi, Hani’s boyfriend, enter the kitchen.
“Hey babe,” Yoongi leaned down to kiss her cheek as he joined them at the table. “What are you jealous of?”
Hani sighed exasperatedly. “Just Taehyung being my parents’ favorite as usual.”
“Ahh,” Yoongi said, grinning at Taehyung, and Taehyung felt that familiar whoosh in his belly. “But they have me. And I think your parents like me better than both of you combined.”
Taehyung and Hani responded by hitting him simultaneously as he doubled over with laughter, all gums and shaking shoulders.
He had such a good laugh. So pretty.
“Remember I told you that our parents are going out of town for their anniversary?” Hani asked, handing Yoongi a bowl of noodles. Yoongi nodded, accepting the bowl. “Well they’re letting perfect little Taehyungie here throw a party.”
“You can come too, noona. Don’t feel so left out,” Taehyung offered, but Hani just rolled her eyes.
“You wish,” she said, now directing her words at Taehyung, “but actually, I can’t. That’s why I asked you when it was, loser.”
“What a shame.” He faked anguish as he clutched his chest.
“I’ll be working overnight at the hospital.”
“So adult of you.”
“So college of you to party when Mom and Dad are out.”
“It’ll be a GREAT party,” Taehyung said, pointing his chopsticks at her. “I just have to get some shit settled with the music and I’ll be good to go.”
“What’s wrong with the music?” Yoongi asked.
“Um,” Taehyung swallowed. Don’t blush. Do not blush. “My friend flaked last minute.”
“I can help, if you want.”
“Oh that’s perfect!” Hani said brightly. “Yoongi has so much music shit on his PC, I’m surprised it still runs.” She chuckled, bumping Yoongi’s shoulder. Taehyung was sure Yoongi didn’t like his music production equipment being called shit, but … that wasn’t his business.
“It’s not shit,” Yoongi said to Hani as he shoved noodles into his mouth, confirming Taehyung’s suspicions. “It's my work.” He chewed for a moment then swallowed. “But anyways, Taehyung, you can come over to my place and we can run through some stuff? My schedule is pretty open right now.”
His place. Huh. Ok.
Taehyung tried to not have an aneurysm as he imagined being alone in Yoongi’s room, but his thoughts were cut short.
“That kills two birds with one stone,” Hani said, setting her chopsticks down. “I felt bad leaving you alone all weekend, but now Taehyung can keep you company.”
“That’s sweet, babe,” Yoongi said, smiling at her as she collected their bowls and walked to the sink, “but I don’t need a babysitter.”
“No, but having someone around to ask if you’ve eaten is nice.”
Yoongi just nodded like he knew she was right. Taehyung wasn’t so sure Hani would’ve felt that great about the plan had she known about the massive, unrequited, and fairly pathetic crush Taehyung had been harboring for her boyfriend.
No, that tidbit of information he would definitely keep to himself.
To the grave.
Honestly, Taehyung thought he’d been doing a fine job of keeping his feelings unnoticed, considering everything. He remembered all too well the day Hani brought Yoongi home to meet the family. Taehyung had felt his soul leave his body because Yoongi was truly the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. That was over a year ago, and no one suspected “little Taehyungie” of anything.
Thankfully he didn’t see that much of Yoongi. He was only over a few times a week, and yes, usually on weekends too, but it wasn’t that bad. Taehyung was in school, he had classes, he was busy. Yoongi was busy too. He worked as an assistant to a music producer and it was so fucking cool. Sometimes he’d come over and show him a track he’d worked on, always with a little proud smile.
Then Taehyung would cry himself to sleep cause Yoongi was so beautiful, so talented ... and so not his.
It wasn’t like his sister was a bad girlfriend. Or a bad person. Taehyung just thought she didn’t really appreciate Yoongi for who he was. She didn’t understand his music, his career. Taehyung wondered sometimes why they were still together, but again, not his business.
“Ok, off to class,” Taehyung mumbled, getting up from the table with a stretch. “Enjoy your day off, you guys.”
“Oh, we will,” Hani said with a smirk, and Taehyung made an exaggerated wrenching noise.
“Ayesh,” Yoongi blushed sheepishly, then looked at Taehyung, “I’ll text you.”
“Cool. I’m free tomorrow, so maybe I can swing by after class then?”
“Works for me. Until tomorrow, then,” Yoongi said, and Taehyung wished he could see Yoongi smiling at him and not think big gross ‘in love’ feelings. But alas, he caught the bus with his heart fluttering in his chest.
Until tomorrow.
________
Taehyung spent the day nervous. It was Wednesday, so he only had one class, but it was three hours long and he was currently covered in a lot of paint. But that didn’t matter right now. Because right now, as he was leaving the studio, he had just received a text.
YG: You free?
Taehyung almost dropped his phone and his bag of paint supplies as he rushed to answer.
TH: yep, just finished class.
YG: Great, you can head over if you want.
And then Yoongi sent the Naver link with his address. It was only a 20 minute bus ride from campus. Cool, 20 minutes to freak out.
Taehyung didn’t even bother to change - he just dropped his stuff in his locker at the art department and walked to the bus stop. His hands were shaking slightly.
“My place is on the 2nd floor, just text me and I’ll buzz you in,” Taehyung read Yoongi’s next text as he sat on the old bus seat, jittering.
It felt like no time had passed before Taehyung was standing outside Yoongi’s apartment, feeling like he was gonna vomit. They didn’t do this. They didn’t hang out alone. They just kinda existed near each other. Self preservation and all. So this? Too much. Too soon. Not enough.
Taehyung texted that he was here and seconds later he heard the door buzz open. Taehyung walked up the stairs and idly started wondering why Yoongi had invited him over. Of course he wanted to believe that Yoongi was secretly in love with him and that this was his master plan. But Taehyung had literally heard him fucking his sister through the wall just last week so, no. That was definitely not the case.
Knock knock.
“Hey.”
There was Yoongi, wearing his usual smile and an all black ensemble that made Taehyung’s mouth water. But he made himself smile back.
“Hey,” Taehyung said, and he noted how nice Yoongi’s hair looked, how soft his skin seemed, how cute his glasses looked perched on his round nose … Shit. He was staring. He needed to stop staring.
“Are you gonna come in?” Yoongi asked with a chuckle, interrupting Taehyung’s thoughts. Instantly Taehyung’s eyes snapped up to meet Yoongi’s.
“Yea, o-of course,” Taehyung choked out, shuffling past him through the doorway. Fuck, he was so much taller than him, fuck.
“Painting class today?” Yoongi asked as he shut the door.
“Yea,” Taehyung sighed and a small smile crept onto his face. “Long fucking class, but it’s one of my favorites this semester so I’m not complaining.”
“What have you been working on?”
Yoongi was leading him past his kitchen and living area to his bedroom, and Taehyung wanted to die.
“Y-you have a nice place,” Taehyung stuttered, but Yoongi just smiled kindly in return.
“Thanks. It’s small, but it means I get to live alone.”
“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” Taehyung said and he followed Yoongi through his doorway. “I love my family but …” He stared around the space, “privacy would be nice.”
“It’s pretty great,” Yoongi said, smiling at him, both of them taking in the room. “You can set your stuff down there.”
Yoongi’s room was dark - black walls with black out curtains and dark sheets and metal music equipment. It was clean and cluttered at the same time and smelled like citrus laundry detergent. Taehyung set his bag down where Yoongi pointed and then looked back at Yoongi, waiting.
“So,” Yoongi said as he walked to his desk, flicking his laptop to life, “this party. What did you have planned?”
“I had a few playlists picked out that my friend was supposed to arrange and mix for me. It was gonna flow really well, but ...” Taehyung trailed off awkwardly.
“I can definitely do that,” Yoongi said as he sat in his extra comfy looking black swivel chair. “Lemme show some of the programs I have, and you can let me know if you like them.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Taehyung said before he could stop himself, and he felt his cheeks flush traitorously. Taehyung saw the corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitch up in a smile, but he said nothing, just clicked away at his computer. Taehyung allowed himself to come closer to him. To see the screen, of course. Yoongi smelled so good. Like fresh grass and new paper. He moved in closer.
“So this program here, I can take your songs and it automatically blends the end of each song into the beginning of the next.”
“That’s so cool.”
Taehyung let his hand rest on the desk, close to the computer but not too much, as his eyes followed the mouse on the screen.
“But also,” Yoongi opened another icon and continued, “I can mess with some of the songs, do some remixes, maybe give a good through line for the sound you want.”
“Wow,” Taehyung said, and he saw his breath flutter Yoongi’s hair below him and shit, when did he get that close? “I mean, that’s too much, though,” Taehyung continued, “I don’t wanna ask you to go through all that for just a party of mine.”
“Ahh come on,” Yoongi smiled sweetly at him, and Taehyung felt his chest start to melt instantly. “You’re practically my little brother. Least I can do.”
Taehyung choked on his spit, feeling sirens go off in his head, flashing lights, as he felt death coming upon him. Then he blinked, trying to laugh it off. “If we’re brothers, then Hani is your sister,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, then watched Yoongi shiver and gag.
“Yea, fuck no.” Yoongi laughed awkwardly, cricking his neck. “Just, as a friend then. I wanna help you as a friend, is that better?”
“Absolutely,” Taehyung beamed. “Plus, I don’t really want you to feel obligated to help me just cause of her.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“Anyways,” Yoongi said, and the tension in the room felt weird now. Had Taehyung made it weird? Should he have just let the comment go, letting his soul die? His thoughts were cut short when Yoongi continued, his voice a little lower, “you’ll still call me hyung though, right?”
“Of course, hyung!” Taehyung said, bowing his head slightly, feeling even more awkward as their light-hearted conversation kept changing. This was exactly why he didn’t hang out with Yoongi alone. Too weird. For him. And his weirdness permeated everything else.
“Ok, good,” Yoongi muttered.
Ugh. Taehyung wanted to crawl in a hole — he HATED this. Hated his stupid fucking feelings and his inability to control them with Yoongi this close. Maybe he should just leave? Yoongi already showed him some things, so maybe he should just send him his playlists and go.
“Whoa, Taehyungah, am I making you nervous?”
Taehyung didn’t realize he was standing up, arms crossed, until he registered that Yoongi had turned on his chair to face him, concern making his pretty mouth pout as he spoke.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck.
“N-no, c-course not, hyung,” Taehyung lied.
How was Yoongi so unintentionally sexy? With his soft eyes, looking too closely. Taehyung was reeling. He just wanted to fold, wanted to fall into Yoongi’s arms, to give in. Wanted to kiss the pout on his mouth. Kiss him so good that all thoughts of anyone else were wiped clean.
“Hey,” Yoongi was standing up, voice laced with concern, and Taehyung felt hands on his shoulders squeezing comfortingly, “ I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you feel like ... like you can’t talk to me.”
Taehyung was looking down, shaking his head, “You haven’t, hyung.”
“Ayesh,” Yoongi sighed, and Taehyung lifted his head to see Yoongi rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He was a lot taller than Yoongi, but they usually were never this close to notice. Why were they this close? This wasn’t good. Taehyung should leave.
“Just sit, Taehyung.” Yoongi gestured to his bed. His big empty bed with dark, soft looking sheets. His bed probably smelled so good, so clean, so Yoongi. Taehyung followed his direction, sitting on the very edge of the mattress, wishing he could shake this off. “Let’s just...” Yoongi said, “music. Yea”
“Yea, music.”
“Okay,” Yoongi sat back down in his chair and Taehyung hated how much he wanted him to sit right next to him. On the bed. So close. Please. “Can you send me one of your playlists? I can show you some ideas.”
“Okay, sure, I can do that.” Taehyung fumbled his phone. Taehyung could feel Yoongi watching him painfully, watching as he stumbled through his phone trying to find the music. Trying to be normal. Trying to not expose himself. At which he was failing spectacularly.
“Taehyung ...” Taehyung felt a hand on his knee. He jerked and suddenly it was gone. “Shit, I’m sorry. Shit,” Yoongi sounded so exasperated. Not mad. Just confused. “Ah, Taehyung, I'm sorry. Was it the little brother comment? I know we’re not that close, I guess that was stupid of me to say. And you’re not little. And I'm not doing this cause of Hani … I’m just...” Yoongi paused, then stopped.
This was the worst possible scenario. Yoongi was looking so closely, as if studying him. Could see the flush of his cheeks. Hear his heart racing. Then Taehyung looked up, licking his lips, only to watch Yoongi follow the movement.
“Do you not like me Taehyung?” Yoongi asked, and Taehyung could hear the hurt and confusion in his voice. But also something else. Something else entirely that was directly tied to the fact that Yoongi was still looking at Taehyung’s mouth.
Don’t do something stupid, Taehyung.
Taehyung just stared at Yoongi, watched his soft cat eyes flick up to Taehyung’s own, blinking so prettily back at him. Taehyung didn’t even think Yoongi knew that he’d done it.
“Course not, hyung,” Taehyung said, his breathing low, heavy, not looking away. “Course I like you.” He watched as Yoongi swallowed, the air in the room feeling thick when earlier it had felt so clean. Yoongi was sitting on his chair, but it was rolled right to the edge of the bed, right next to where Taehyung was. Yoongi was fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, his teeth worrying his pink bottom lip.
“I feel,” Yoongi said softly, sounding a little sad, a little confused, “like I did something wrong.”
“No,” Taehyung rushed to say, his hand flying to calm Yoongi’s runaway fingers, now warm and still under his own. “No, it’s just ... Just me. Weird day. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t have to come over,” Yoongi said, his voice still small and he was looking at Taehyung’s hand curiously. Then he added, “You have paint under your nails.”
“Oh,” Taehyung said, taken aback by the statement, but also because Yoongi was now touching his hands, his fingers.
“You didn’t tell me what you worked on today, when I asked you earlier,” Yoongi stated, his voice casual, but Taehyung felt rooted to the spot, like his oxygen was being withheld from him the longer Yoongi sat practically holding his hand, chipping away at the dried up paint.
“Um, …” Words, Taehyung. “Life painting.”
“Like real people?”
“Yea … that.”
“Huh.” Yoongi was intent on not looking at Taehyung, putting too much energy on their hands together. “So like, you must be really good then.”
“I guess so,” Taehyung mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
“Is it awkward painting real people?” Yoongi asked, finally looking up at Taehyung but still drawing light circles on his skin. He was convinced again that Yoongi didn’t even realize he was doing it. But Taehyung knew. He could feel it. Could feel his resolve crumbling.
“Not really,” Taehyung answered. Fuck, why was it so quiet? Why were they still sitting here like this? Taehyung was gonna lose his fucking mind. “Not unless they’re naked.”
“Naked.” Yoongi repeated.
“Yea, naked.” Taehyung said, “but even then I’m not too bothered by it.”
“Oh. Would you paint me?”
“Paint you?” Taehyung asked, his jaw dropping.
“Yea, me,” Yoongi said.
“Naked?!” Taehyung blanched. He absolutely could not do that. No. Nope. Too much.
“Not naked,” Yoongi’s shoulders shook with laughter, finally letting go of his hand. “Just me, normally.”
“Yea,” Taehyung said, “sure. Totally.”
He looked at his own finger nails sheepishly, now that he had his hand back, and was starting to miss Yoongi’s touch, despite the feeling of doom inside him. What a disaster gay he was - he really asked Yoongi, his sister's boyfriend, if he wanted to be painted naked.
“I know I’m not really like,” Yoongi said, interrupting Taehyung’s thoughts, “painting material, I guess? But—”
“What are you talking about?” Taehyung looked up at him quickly.
“Like, my face. Me. I know I’m not—”
“You’re not what?”
“Pretty … like that,” Yoongi blushed.
“Is this a joke?” Taehyung felt like he was being punked. There’s no way Yoongi didn’t know how absolutely fucking devastating he was.
“Is what a joke?” Yoongi said, cocking his head to the side.
“You don’t think you’re pretty?”
“No, not really,” Yoongi said, and then after a beat he continued curiously. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Taehyung’s brain was swimming, buzzing, chirping, like an entire zoo had been let loose and it was just chaos. Chaos looking into Yoongi's eyes. A disaster waiting to happen.
Don’t do something stupid.
Don’t do something stupid.
Don’t do something —
“If—If you weren’t pretty, hyung, would I do this?”
And then Taehyung did the worst thing he could possibly do.
He kissed him.
—stupid.
There he was, leaning forward on the bed, cupping Yoongi’s cheeks with both of his paint-stained hands, as he connected their lips in a hard, devastating kiss.
A kiss that had Taehyung seeing fucking fireworks.
Disaster. Chaos. Hellfire.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Taehyung heard Yoongi’s muffled noise of surprise somewhere in the back of his brain where logical thought resided, but he couldn’t think about that now. Not when he finally knew how delicious Yoongi’s lips felt against his. How plush and pouty they were. How soft his cheeks felt.
Taehyung felt out of his body. Didn’t know up from down. Right or wrong. Only this. Only Yoongi. Only kissing Yoongi. Only feeling his mouth against his. Hard, demanding, perfect.
Holy fuck.
He was kissing Yoongi. Actually kissing Yoongi who—
Oh my god
... who was now kissing him back.
He hadn’t at first. No, Yoongi had stayed stock still, lips unmoving, for longer than was comfortable, but Taehyung hadn’t been able to pull away. He’d jumped off the cliff, thrown his dignity out the window, so he might as well make it last, right?
But that was all changing.
Because now Yoongi was hissing into his mouth, making Taehyung’s lips part slowly as he achingly deepened their kiss. Taehyung felt his brain shut off, the gears stop working, all fuses fizzling out. Yoongi’s tongue was tentative against Taehyung’s own, driving him fucking mad. Yoongi kissed so slowly but so deeply, a crazy parallel against Taehyung’s racing mind and heart, but it was good. So good. So slow, so sensual. Taehyung felt his eyes roll back as their wet lips slid lazily, heatedly, together. It was too much. This was so wrong … but so good.
Fuck.
Taehyung felt like he was waiting for Yoongi to stop. To stop him, stop this. All of it. Because it was crazy and stupid and reckless. HOMEWRECKER and WORST BROTHER EVER kept flashing in his mind like neon signs, but it was silenced when he felt Yoongi’s hand slide up his neck to grip his hair.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi’s voice was low, almost inaudible, the words forming against Taehyung’s lips like water to clay.
“Mmm …”
No thoughts. Only Yoongi. Just Yoongi. Just his lips. And his hands.
“Taehyung, we should—”
“Uhuh,” Taehyung was nodding, still kissing. So much kissing.
“We shouldn’t—” Yoongi sounded desperate, like he was underwater, like Taehyung was stealing all his oxygen.
“I know.”
Taehyung was sinking into hell, his hands moving down Yoongi’s neck, sliding down his ribs, resting on his hips.
“Oh god, why does this feel so fucking good?”
“I don’t know …”
But I do. I know. I know I love you. I love you. Please leave her. Please pick me. I’m begging you.
“This is bad,” Yoongi mumbled, kissing down his neck, and Taehyung felt like he was about to cry.
“So bad.” So good. Too good. So perfect. We’re perfect. Please. Please. “Hyung …” Taehyung’s chest was heaving, like his heart was breaking.
“What’s happening, Taehyungah? What are we doing? Fuck, why … why do I like this so much?” Yoongi sounded so lost, so frustrated with want, but his lips still hadn’t stopped moving against Taehyung’s skin.
“I don’t know …”
Taehyung’s throat felt tight …how could he help Yoongi when he himself felt found?
“I don’t—” Yoongi was pulling away, wrenching himself from Taehyung. “I can’t ... we can’t do this.”
And there it was.
Stupid.
Taehyung pressed their foreheads together in resignation. “I know.”
“We need to stop.” Yoongi’s voice was different now. It hurt. “This was stupid … of us … to do. Don’t know what I was thinking.”
You’re stupid, Taehyung.
Taehyung felt too vulnerable. Yoongi wasn’t touching him anymore, and he felt so exposed as he saw his own spit still glistening on Yoongi’s lips.
“I’m sorry, hyung. I shouldn't've— I…” but Taehyung couldn’t form any more words, his heart caving in on itself.
Yoongi was blinking furiously, looking around the room. He didn’t look mad. He looked like he was searching for something, anything to help explain what had just happened. Taeyhung wished he had the answers, wished that Yoongi didn’t look so lost.
“No,” Yoongi said firmly. He ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ...” And Yoongi was looking everywhere but at the sad broken boy in front of him. “I was just surprised and ... we got ... we got carried away.”
Taehyung just nodded. “Don’t—don’t tell Hani,” he breathed as he hung his head, shame washing over him, filling the cracks of his shattered heart.
“Taehyung, no ... She doesn’t …” Taehyung looked up to see Yoongi crick his neck, his face stony at the mention of his girlfriend. “She doesn’t need to know. This was ... a one time thing. An accident. That’s all, yea?”
“An accident,” Taehyung repeated, even though he distinctly remembered kissing Yoongi very much on purpose.
“Yea ... ok. So,” Yoongi swallowed hard, “let’s just pretend this never happened. Ok?
”Ok. Sure,” Taehyung said and he stood up, jolting Yoongi in his chair. “I have to go.”
“Yea, okay ... yea,” Yoongi muttered and his eyes were so wide looking at him. Taehyung hated the mess he’d made here. Wished he could kiss the pain and confusion off Yoongi’s beautiful face.
He got his things quickly, feeling like the room was both too big, echoing with the silence, and too small, closing in on him, the silence suffocating him. He could feel Yoongi watching him.
Taehyung was at the door when Yoongi’s voice made him pause.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said weakly.
With more bite than he knew himself capable of, Taehyung said, “I’m not.”
And with that, he stormed out of Yoongi's apartment and out into the rain.
—