Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4445504.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of
      Violence, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Kim_Taehyung_|_V, slight_mentions_or_cameos_of_other
      characters
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Unhealthy_Relationships, Angst, Smut,
      Age_Difference, Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Wedding_Fluff,
      Gore, Alternate_Universe_-_Mob, Blood_and_Violence, Torture, Fluff, Fluff
      and_Smut, Suicide, Time_Loop
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-28 Updated: 2017-02-27 Chapters: 13/25 Words: 29941
****** 25 nights (25 lives) ******
by aishiteita
Summary
     it's not a life worth living if i don't somehow end up in your arms.
     a collection of 25 oneshots of various vkook aus (mostly school/uni
     setting).
Notes
     yo heLLO IT IS ME AGAIN ive decided to do a pseudo multichap thing bc
     writing something with actual plot is still /too much/ for me ahahHA
     enjoy this new piece of shit ive fashioned-- first chapter will be of
     hormonal sad highschoolers bc Angst™ and these two have officially
     ruined my life f u haley
     read on and tell me what you think in the end hmmhmmhmmhmm <3
See the end of the work for more notes
***** the new - interpol *****
Chapter Summary
     jeongguk regrets dating young, he really does.
     but he'll never regret meeting taehyung.
Chapter Notes
     yo heLLO IT IS ME AGAIN ive decided to do a pseudo multichap thing bc
     writing something with actual plot is still /too much/ for me ahahHA
     enjoy this new piece of shit ive fashioned-- first chapter will be of
     hormonal sad highschoolers bc Angst™ and these two have officially
     ruined my life f u haley
     read on and tell me what you think in the end hmmhmmhmmhmm <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
today is like any other weekend—saturdays and sundays are spent in taehyung's
home, specifically his room, where the two of you finish whatever assignments
you have for the following weekday and cram together for upcoming tests. once
that's done, you'd normally get under the covers with taehyung for an hour or
two before heading outside, be it for the movies or your other friends
beckoning you two to hang out with them every once in a while. this particular
saturday is a busy one, however, with taehyung nursing a migraine from three
projects which are each worth twenty percent of his term grade (he
procrastinated for the past two weeks, earning a scolding and a soft smack at
the back of the head from yours truly) while you summarize chapters from your
biology textbook for the exam on tuesday.
taehyung procrastinates and is the lazier one of you two, but unfortunately,
he's the one who forgets meals and forgoes sleep to finish his assignments
hours before their deadlines. so you took it upon yourself the day you asked
him out to be held semi-responsible for the older boy's well-being (completely
voluntary, of course, because you do like him alive and healthy), tugging at
taehyung's sleeve every hour or so for a study break and sweet-talking his
mother for snacks.
your actions don't go unnoticed—taehyung knows for a fact that he's alive only
from his mother's nagging and your, well, motherly actions. so when you step
back into his room with two bowls of tteokbeokkiand iced barley tea, it takes
all of one and a half seconds for you to set the tray down and let taehyung
tackle you onto his bed with giggles slipped in between kisses. he makes sure
to whisper a "thank you" before each peck to your cheeks, nose, eyelids—lips.
another distraction that keeps the two of you away from good work ethics may be
the teenage hormones running rampant in your veins—the moment you're in between
his soft, homely sheets, scents of detergent and his shampoo wafting around
you, you've fallen. you've fallen captive to plush lips parting just for your
tongue and long fingers carding through your hair. when his lashes brush
against your face, cold hands slip underneath his graphic tee to trace slight
muscle, bones, smooth skin raised into goosebumps. brief, fleeting touches
slowly become more with each kiss to the neck, fingers no longer tracing but
gripping, digging, and hands are splayed wide on warmed flesh—by the time your
teeth find his earlobe, his shirt is gone.
with nothing but a wall and locked door separating you from his parents, you
try to keep quiet. each round ends in you and taehyung sporting nasty marks of
magenta and violet on each of your palms from biting on them too hard. the
marks are pretty, you once told him, and you cherish each imprint of teeth on
marred flesh. but you like it most when he dives in to swallow your louder
moans with hard kisses, lips sealed tight over yours as he palms your crotch
through the fabric of your boxers. unable to take it anymore, you detach
yourself from taehyung for a millisecond to strip away all articles of clothing
before pulling his hips down to rut against yours—completely naked, bare, every
square inch of skin alight with nerves shooting sparks down your spines.
being students with parents, nosy schoolmates, and a general lack of time
(effort) to go to the convenience store, you've never gone too far with
taehyung. "it can wait," he had once said, and you agree. for now, this is
enough. just him pressed flush against you, hearts beating opposite each other.
inexperienced hands wander aimlessly, exploring, eager to commit yourselves to
each other's memory and painfully teasing one another before his fingers take
the initiative to wrap around your leaking member, eliciting a surprised moan
from you. it takes all the willpower that's left in you to keep the shameful
noises from spilling past your parted mouth, what with him pumping your cock
slowly in a spit-slicked grip, thumb pressing your slit every few strokes or
so. taehyung moves away but his hand is still on you, so your fingers find his
sheets to clutch onto while he admires you writhing beneath him—it doesn't take
long for you to throw your head back, teeth breaking the thin skin of your
bottom lip as a helpless whimper leaks out of the corners of your mouth.
taehyung's pace is unrelenting, getting faster until strings of white coat your
stomach and his palms.
"taehyung," you breathe out, "no more, please." your voice is cracking from how
good, too good, everything feels, and taehyung releases his grip on your now
limp cock to flash you a shit-eating grin. labored breaths wrack your frame,
making it a bit difficult to give him a dirty look past your bangs.
"that good?" he asks smugly, straddling your thighs. his half-hard cock tickles
your hip, and you can't help but give it an awkward smile.
"do you need help with that?" you shyly point out, because taehyung has done
nothing for the past two minutes except stare at your face blankly. the
question snaps him out of his daze, however, evident from the flush that blooms
on his cheeks all the way down to his chest. he purses his lips and looks down
in embarrassment, which you find endearingly cute.
"yes, please?" he hesitantly requests, odd gummy smile much too adorable with
the rest of his features, and you abruptly mash your lips on his—no finesse
whatsoever, a horribly amateur, sloppy smooch done just for the hell of it as
laughter erupts from the two of you when you break away a second after. once
the mirth dies down, you tell him to scoot over and lie down at the other end
of the bed. it takes a bit of shuffling around before the you two manage a
comfortable position with your head in between taehyung's thighs.
"thanks for the meal," you tease before taking him whole in one go—taehyung's
just slightly bigger than you, and the tip of his cock nudges the back of your
throat, nearly triggering your gag reflex. you push the urge to choke down,
tears welling up in your eyes from the effort, but it's worth it, seeing your
boyfriend's back arch off the mattress, palm in between sharp teeth as his
breathing becomes ragged.
the weight of his cock in your mouth gradually becomes familiar, pleasant even,
and you cover your teeth with your lips before lifting your head up, deliberate
as your tongue sneaks out to lick his tip before going back down to the base.
you maintain the achingly slow pace for a couple minutes more, because by then,
taehyung has taken it up upon himself to tug at your hair in a silent plea of
hurry the fuck up. you comply because it's hard not to when he looks down at
you with pupils blown wide begging you to move faster, push him past the edge
because he's been waiting for so long (not that long, really, but time just
stops once your lips meet his). you let go of his member with a satisfying
'pop' to send him a sheepish smile, "sorry, babe."
"babe my ass," you can hear him mutter impatiently under his breath before
tilting your head to give him a lewd lick from base to tip, a hand pressed
against the other side so that your tongue is flat against his sensitive skin.
a low moan echoes into your ears, and your appreciative hum vibrates around
taehyung's length as you take him into your mouth again. the hands in your hair
now dig into scalp, guiding your head to match with his pace. you pick it up
quickly, and he loosens his hold on your hair as your head-bobbing finds a
pleasing rhythm—friction slick but electric all the same, and you can feel
yourself hardening again from the delicious noises taehyung makes above you.
looking up, you can see his face turned to the side, plush against his pillow
in an effort to muffle himself. you hear it loud and clear, though, the way his
teeth clench but allow rough gasps to escape, morphing into soft cries of
"jeongguk" repeated endlessly as his mouth falls open, enticing you to kiss him
again if only you weren't so busy down here. to make up for it, your left hand
wraps around the base of his cock as you hollow your cheeks to suck the tip
while the right kneads the soft flesh of his inner thighs.
heat coils deep in your stomach, burning unbearably from within and you give up
resisting—you stop whatever you've been doing to slide up against taehyung like
before, even closer, if possible. bodies warmer than when you two started eons
ago, patches of skin where his comes in contact with yours melt and cling onto
each other like heated plastic. there is absolutely no way for you to let go of
one another at this point.
"i'm sorry," you gasp into his inviting mouth, open and god forbid anyone else
but you invade it, "i couldn't help myself." your hand clumsily tries to snake
in between two torsos, movements ungraceful but none of you care the moment
your sweaty palm presses both your lengths together. you know taehyung is near,
feet curling around yours and muscles tense in anticipation as you pump both
your lengths faster, faster, faster.
it's suddenly too hot in between the sheets, smells of laundry detergent and
shampoo replaced by sex as the two of you lose all sense of coordination—open-
mouthed kisses are rained down upon each other's cheeks, neck, temples,
everywhere and anywhere because you can't see, can't keep your eyes open from
the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through your veins. you exchange breaths,
exchange moans, exchange muted confessions of i really like you like you so
much i love youamong quiet whimpers, drowning both of you in the ocean beneath
the cliff where you've gladly been pushed off from. taehyung climaxes first, a
sharp "ah" taking you by surprise as he comes in long spurts across your
chests. his hand then joins yours, trembling slightly as you bite down the
crook of his neck when you come for the second time.
the room is deafeningly silent save for the huffing and puffing from you and
taehyung, trying to catch your breaths as you come down from the adrenaline
high. you relax, limbs loose and ridiculously comfortable on top of taehyung's,
and you almost fall asleep until the pillow suddenly vibrates against your
head. you fish out the phone hidden underneath to have a mini freak out,
because apparently, it's been quite some time since you two started fucking
around—the glowing letters of "mom" flash before your widened eyes in horror,
and you immediately sit up when seeing the time above the word indicate that
it's already eight-thirty in the evening. taehyung chuckles at your nervous
disposition before hoisting himself up to kiss you on the cheek, short and
sweet, hand swiping the device away from you.
"hello? mrs. jeon?" he answers the call as if nothing had happened between the
two of them. "kookie here just got on the bus! yes, yes, he'll be home soon,
don't you worry. sorry for keeping him here for so long, alright, yup, thank
you so much, ma'am!" the call ends in twenty seconds, and you huff in relief,
head lolling forward to rest against taehyung's shoulder.
"you gotta go, huh?" taehyung asks, voice so gentle you can feel your heart
giving out from the slightest edge of sadness in his baritone. he hates this
part of the weekend, the end of sunday when you have to leave his house just
because tomorrow is a school day. you abhor it just as much, if not more, since
you're the one going through a half-hour bus ride followed by a twenty-minute
walk back into your apartment, where your teensy-bit overprotective parents
await your return home. "well, i don't have much work left to do before
tomorrow so i guess it's fine—"
"i don't wanna go home," you whine, pout souring your expression as you snuggle
deeper into the junction between taehyung's neck and shoulder, cutting off
taehyung's speech. "this is home anyway." the sentence rings throughout the
room with too  much clarity, and you can almost feel taehyung's heart skip a
beat.
"i know," he attempts to comfort you, or maybe himself, because his free hand
makes its way to rub circles around your nape as his lips press against your
hair—a little bit desperate, just like any other weekend. seconds pass by much
too slowly before you bring yourself to stand up, get dressed, pack up your
things to begin the trek back home.  
"well," you exclaim, herschel's rucksack hanging off your shoulders and phone
pocketed safely in your jeans. "i guess i'll be going home then." taehyung is
still somewhat naked, lazily putting on only his boxers as he is at home. you
watch him hop to where you stand by his room's door, and he cups your face in
wide hands. pools of dark caramel suck you in and you really wish you can stay.
"one day, we'll live together for real, okay, jeongguk?" he asks, rhetoric and
so hopeful you feel a lump lodged in your throat as the last syllable of your
name rolls off his tongue. speechless, you opt to kiss him hard, one hand
tousling the hair at the back of his head while the other grips the back of his
neck. you pour in everything into the kiss, the frustration and impatience,
questions of why did we start so earlyand why must we wait circling your
hurting brain as his tongue slowly slides against yours. it's not chaste, but
it's not turning any of you on either. not when it's like this, tears
threatening to stream down your cheeks as you remember that it's taehyung's
last year of high school, while you're still a sophomore who managed to skip
the first year. two years isn't much in terms of age, but where they are now,
it's a vast abyss that threatens to widen as time goes on. you want to
manipulate time, either halt the both of you where you are now or take you
somewhere in the future, where two years mean nothing and you can be
together—reallytogether.
but there are no time machines, and the fact still stands that taehyung is
graduating soon, leaving you alone as he pursues the degree and scholarship
he's applied for. seemingly sensing your thoughts, taehyung brings his hands to
your back, effectively removing your rucksack whilst rubbing large circles on
the small of your back, hypnotic, calming you from the constant fear you've
been having lately. he leads the kiss now, letting it slow and fade until it's
just his lips barely touching yours—simple and clean.
foreheads knocking against each other, he gazes into your eyes. a grin
stretches across his perfect face and he's still holding you tight against his
front.
"i love you, you know that, right?" he whispers, and you nod dumbly, vocal
cords not yet ready for use lest you spill tears and start bawling on the spot.
he juts his bottom lip out in an attempt to pout cutely, and you giggle at
that. "hey, not fair, say it too," he complains, voice heightened an octave or
so and the suffocating feeling dissipates just the slightest bit.
"i love you too," you answer, sure and confident because you have it in your
mind now, one day living together with taehyung in your own little apartment,
where time can be forgotten and when you reach out your bed at four in the
morning, there will be another hand searching for yours.
one day.
Chapter End Notes
     holy_water.jpg
     p.s. i love love LOVEE TTEOKBEOKKI FIGHT ME ON THIS
     thank u for making it to the end ily <3
***** ironworks; lovely bloodflow - baths *****
Chapter Summary
     taehyung has always been on his own, on his empty stadium.
     someone is clapping from the far back.
Chapter Notes
     i have no idea i just got the sads and vented to the gods of taekook
     warnings for possibly unhealthy relationships??? but ya aha
     hagahahsdc............................................
     p.s. first chapter has been edited bc GLARING ERRORS
     enjoy!!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
if anyone asks you if you're happy, you'd probably beam up, slap on the
sweetest smile imaginable onto your face and say, "yes, yes i'm happy," tone
soft and worn at the edges.
this is a lie. you know for a fact that this is a lie, he knows too. boy, does
he know.
happiness is a fleeting concept, arbitrary and vague, a notion so subtle it
escapes the grasps of your feeble mind whenever you try to look for it. you
don't remember a time when you're not scouring for it, desperation building up
over the years to amass as a disease festering within your weary soul. you
don't just look for it now, you scavenge, dig through the deepest and most
disgusting corners of two hearts, clawing through memories and long spidery
fingers curl around possibilities of a brighter tomorrow—mildewed and slippery
in your grip because you've never felt it in your hands for more than a few
mere seconds.
what did you do in your past life to deserve this? constantly running about the
term in an endless loop, ankles done for and knobby knees trembling from
exertion. your calves want to give out, thighs ready to disintegrate into
nothingness as you heave lungfuls of air in, out, in, out. his image never
seemed so distant, and it only gets farther and farther by each lap. the
stadium is in a vacuum, void of air, void of sound. no cry can possibly reach
him, because you can't even hear yourself yell anymore. the internal screaming
triggers something, increasing the pressure within your torso as your ribcage
feels impossibly tight. lungs crush the rapidly beating heart, the diaphragm in
a frenzy as you hyperventilate in oblivion.
in the stadium, you stand alone. a narrow figure under the heat of a harsh
spotlight, highlighting every split hair on your head and every fine line on
your tired face. it doesn't matter whether he's lying down right next to you,
body flushed against yours, or if he's out and about with classmates—in the
stadium, you stand alone.
this particular night sets the two of you in bed, comforters enclosing two
bodies in a warm embrace, the sheets wrinkled in familiarity, each line
spinning stories of home and love. you want to call your face in his chest
love. the way his right arm is pillowing your head, fingers playing with a
strand of your dark hair as the other drapes itself across your waist—the way
he nuzzles against the top of your head, breathing warm on your scalp—your feet
tangled and you can't feel where your knees or his toes are—you want to call
them love.
when you close your eyes hard enough, it is love. it is love in its purest
form, not the most perfect, but a good love. it's a good love, it can't be
anything other than that, right?
(a good love isn't supposed to let your heart develop its own canker sore,
unhealing and stinging.)
"babe," he whispers, as if the quieter the words are, the better its chances of
reaching you instead of escaping into thin air, "i don't think you or i should
stay." his fingers stop playing with your hair to rest against your nape, so
you let your hand that's not crushed underneath his body to run piano scales on
his spine.
"i don't care," you mumble, "i'm staying." and that is final.
"taehyung," he says, and you can hear his voice starting to crack. he pulls
away from the embrace and cups your face in his hands. it should be funny to
look at, since the two of you are lying down on your sides. but there's nothing
funny about the glassiness of his eyes, or the ticking time bomb lodged right
next to where your heart is. "taehyung, this is not love."
"how can this not be love?" you ask plaintively, because the thumb rubbing your
cheek and the faint scent of mint fanning across your face feels like fire,
scorching you until you're numb. the piano scales stop and your fingers slow
down to trace the curve of each of his vertebra. he trains his eyes on
anything, anywhere, except for your own.
"i can't fix you," he states. it sounds factual, dry on his tongue when you
scoot closer for a kiss. he reciprocates, albeit halfheartedly. when your lips
meet, his eyes don't close. that's okay, yours aren't either. lips moving
together, but your eyes don't see each other. the distant feeling is back, two
bodies which are too separate, too different and not one. you don't feel the
sense of belonging or unity or anything at all. the sparks of electric have
long since dulled, grown tame and negligible as an uncomfortable sensation.
pointless kissing.
"you don't have to fix me, babe," you say into his parted mouth, and he doesn't
swallow the words, instead lets it hang to dissipate in the air between you.
"i'm fine, this is fine." the moment you swoop in for a harder kiss, he halts
you with a firm hold on your shoulders. the action is sudden, fast as he climbs
on all fours atop of you.
he stares into you, eyes manic and wide—they're glistening, sparkling and
reminding you of just how beautiful he really is. so beautiful compared to you
that it hurts, blinds you momentarily. the room is silent, screeches of tires
against asphalt rattling the window frame, curtains drawn and lights dim. he
looks good with the yellow light casting shadows on his skin, creating contrast
which defines his features, collarbones peeking out of his t-shirt. your arms
slowly lift themselves, fingers ghosting on the slope of his shoulders before
making their way up in tiptoes to press against his lids and cover his eyes.
you can feel moisture on the tips of your fingers. his lips are pulled back as
a sob wrenches itself out of him, arms giving out, elbows bent and his head
falls into the crook of your neck. he fits there, comfortable, and the time
bomb ticks faster, getting closer and closer to detonation—you can feel it.
your arms now circle round his frame, in reality larger than you, broader, but
he feels small in your embrace.
"just stay with me, jeongguk," you rasp into his ear, and you're not going to
front on the need that's evident in your sentence. you sound clingy, and you
can't care less at present. "please stay with me," the words die out as your
lips find his neck, and you kiss as if you can't kiss him anymore after this.
your shoulder is damp, night air chilling the wet spot, and the sobs don't
stop.
"i can't fix you, taehyung, i can't stay." he's keening now, and you hold him
tighter. even with him pressed this close against you, the hurt doesn't go
away. the ache is ever-present, ugly flowers blooming and leeching off your
bones to puncture organs. the wave comes and goes, but it's drowning you as his
repetitive chants of i can't stayfill your ears—this is true despair, and you
can't breathe. the bomb has gone off, and your heart races from the explosion,
labored breaths wracking your frame. torched inside out by flames leave you
unfeeling, static nerves not responding from the trauma. you don't notice the
tears making their way down your temples into your ear canal, making the
surroundings muted, as if you're underwater.
you've never been completely happy, as far back as you can remember, at least.
your days are plagued with ennui and a certain distance from the world which
you just can't cover no matter how hard you try. your chest is always under
great pressure, bones creaking and weary with each step you take. breathing is
hard, living is hard.
but you have him. it doesn't stop the aches or the sheer apathy you've donned
for so long, it has become second skin. his presence doesn't make things
brighter or clearer, you're still as lost as ever. the stadium is still empty,
hollow ground with you as center stage.
there is a point in all this, however. despite the lack of sensation, the much
too faint electricity when you two join bodies, the meaningless conversations
and odd chemistry between you, you want him there, you needhim there. a reason
is available, you're sure of that, but you can't pinpoint why. it's like you
know your body needs food, respiration theories found easily in high school
textbooks there to explain the claim, but it's not like you're aware of each
process your body goes through to need sustenance. he's similar—necessary and
vital, even if he doesn't feel like it. you can't go on without him, and that
is something you dare call a fact. you can't go a single day without casting a
glance in his way at least once, maybe get a small smile in return when he
catches your eyes.
"don't leave me," you whisper weakly, tired and defeated. "i don't know much,
and everything feels so far away but—i'm pretty sure that i love you." limbs
numb, you can't sense anything about yourself aside from the weariness weighing
down your bones, too brittle when you're still so young. but the words feel so
right, it shocks you. they roll off your tongue naturally, and you know that
they're the correct words. there's no problem or question to solve, but this is
your answer.
"jeongguk, i love you. i love you so much." you kiss him hard, bruising and
unapologetic as his eyes finally close. even in the dim lighting, you can make
out every lash on his lid, sparse and clumped into groups from the tears. his
eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, fine lines obvious from the close up and you
feel your lids getting heavier, shutting and dissolving your consciousness into
oblivion once more, except just a bit sweeter, gentler.
when you break away for air, he's stopped crying, and his lips make their way
to press butterfly kisses all over your face, neck, shoulders—"i'm so sorry,"
he says, voice still crumbly, but much more coherent now. "taehyung, i love you
too. love you lots. i just want us—want you to be happy."
with him in your arms, it's not happiness. the bad is still there, the hurt
stomping down on your vitals.
there is happiness yet. maybe not now, not in the near future, but someday.
someday you will find it, and he'll be by your side when you do.
this is probably the closest you can ever get to happiness, and you won't have
it any other way.
(in the stadium, someone claps as you take a bow to leave the spotlight.)
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     u dont get anything?? it is fine i dont get it either lmao
***** title track - death cab for cutie *****
Chapter Summary
     everything has been set in stone since their first meeting atop two
     balconies.
Chapter Notes
     hello!!!!!!!!1 im on term break and not too happy w this but i also
     liked it? idk may fix in the future
     enjoy more highschool vkook but without the smut and less angst tbh
     WOW WHAT A FIRST feat. my fav song from dcfc
     references to that prologue video imSOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
See the end of the chapter for more notes
you're walking back from a tiring second day in your new school to your new
apartment—new shoes on, new backpack slapping against a new blazer, new
uniform, new earphones, new life, new everything.
the feeling of missing busan is also new.
spring means flowers, flowers mean pollen and pollen means allergies. you've
been sneezing for the past two minutes or so, and your eyes are getting teary.
you sniffle and wish that you still live your mom, so that she'd slip in a
packet of tissue paper in your bag before you left for school in the morning.
but you'll be home alone for the next few years now, and that means no mothers
to reprimand you for the lack of tissue paper in your schoolbag, no fathers to
pester you with soccer scores, and no brothers to wake you up at three in the
morning with his gaming. it'll just be you, surrounded by off white walls too
bare, too unlived in, room smelling of dust and mold.
entering your unit, though, has a nice feeling to it. it's not the home you
once knew, but you feel welcome. the walls are empty now, but you know that in
time, you can make the walls, the dust and mold into something worth coming
home to.
plus, the liberation that comes from eating cup noodles for dinner without
nagging from your parents is sheer euphoria.
so here you are, slurping down instant ramyeon (extra spicy, of course) by your
balcony (if the one-by-half meter square extension from your window can be
called a balcony) at ten in the evening, homework abandoned on your desk but
almost finished, so no harm done.
you hear a whistle from your right. turning around earns you a good view of the
city serving as a backdrop to a pretty face—
"hi, neighbor," the pretty face greets you, and you nearly choke on sodium.
"hi," you stammer, voice coming out as a slight gurgle as you barely swallowed
your noodles. he laughs in response, and the low timbre of his mirth rings out
clear and true in the midst of cars honking all the way down the building.
which reminds you that you live on the fifteenth floor of the twenty-floor
building. fifteen floors is pretty high up, and your balcony isn't really
anything fancy or reliable.
you scoot back a couple inches into your apartment in fear, but your balcony
neighbor took it wrongly, arms flailing to get you back as he panics, "please
don't think of me as a weirdo or anything!"
he extends a long arm in your direction, left hand holding onto his railings
for support, and you consider calling the cops to rescue him because that can't
be safe, how the fuck is he brave enough to just lean away from the balcony
like that?
"i'm kim taehyung," he smiles a peculiar box smile, right hand close enough to
shake without you needing to stretch much in his direction. you set your cup
noodles down onto the floor by your feet, and shake his hand.
"jeon jeongguk," you say, and he takes in the name thoughtfully, rolling its
syllables with his tongue before chewing it down as he repeats it to himself.
he releases your hand and you feel warmth lingering on your palms.
"that's a nice name, jeongguk-ssi," he says, narrowing his eyes on your face
before teasingly pointing at you, "i think you're younger than me, though."
"i'm sixteen, first year." the spring wind picks up around you two, howling
between buildings and letting hair get into your eyes.
"i'm eighteen, dropped out last winter," he yells to you past the air currents,
and you squint past your fringe to get a good look at your neighbor—taehyung.
the wind eventually dies down, and you drink in the sight of lilac hair framing
dainty features, ratty sweater covering taehyung's skin, but exposing his neck
and collarbones entirely. it's a new sight to you, the you who has seen boys in
nothing but school uniforms, gym clothes, tees, and basketball shorts. seeing
the oversized sleeves hang halfway down his palms, letting long fingers peek
out, gives you a strange urge to take his hands in yours. you suddenly want to
inspect his knuckles.
"why would you?" you blurt out, and his smile dims slightly to a weak, close-
lipped grin. you feel bad for doing that to him.
"didn't like school," he replies, then looks down in thought before continuing
quietly, "didn't like where i was heading." he glances at you, then musses his
hair.
"you better not follow my footsteps!" taehyung exclaims loudly, and you worry
for your other neighbors (more for taehyung possibly getting noise complaints),
so you shush the other.
"hyung, it's getting late," you half-whisper, "i don't want you to get evicted
or anything like that."
his smile returns full force, and he taps a beat against the railings. "don't
worry, i'm already evicted. i'm getting out tomorrow."
your shoulders slump. "oh."
"yeah," he breathes out, and the tapping stops. "shame, honestly. if i had
known that i have such a cute neighbor like, last week, i would've stayed out
of trouble." he sucks the back of his teeth in exaggerated disappointment,
shaking his head.
"what did you do?" you ask, but he just winks back at you while placing a
finger in front of his lips. you don't pry, but instead ask another question,
"how come i've never seen you around when i've been here for a month?"
"i'm never around, jeongguk. always here, there, everywhere," taehyung stops to
light up a cigarette, to your fascination. "this is just a pit stop where i
keep stuff and sleep."
a stretch of silence, where he blows plumes of soft smoke to the night air,
taking careful consideration of the air currents to make sure no smoke goes to
your face. but you catch the earthy scent anyways, and you inhale it
gratefully—you never find cigarette smoke disgusting, contrary to popular
belief.
he notices you inhaling, and stubs the half-finished stick onto the railing.
"it's bad for you, you know." he says it to you with a guilty face, and you
scowl in his hypocrisy.
"shouldn't you say that to yourself?" you snicker, and he throws the cigarette
butt in your direction. you laugh a little, and nearly topple over the cup
noodles abandoned by your feet.
"um, gimme a second." you hurrily slurp down what remains at the bottom of the
container, and dash across your apartment to the kitchen to throw the empty
cup. when you make it back to the balcony, however, you almost scream.
"tae, get the fuck down from there!" you yell, and the boy in question turns to
you, arms still spread wide to maintain a semblance of balance, legs trembling
with the effort of keeping his body up on the thin railing. your eyes widen in
panic when his knees buckle slightly, and your arm shoots out in a frantic
attempt to rescue him.
 the distance between his balcony and yours is short enough for you to leap
over, and so you do. he sees you crouching in preparation a second before
jumping, and promptly retreats into his room in time for you to land
precariously on his balcony.
"you are fucking insane," taehyung exclaims in pure disbelief, almost shrieking
as he gathers you in his arms. you're still trying to catch your breath, and
the adrenaline rush has left you with shaky limbs.
a couple of minutes pass, and you laugh. you downright explode right then and
there, in a stranger's room, which you just entered via balcony by means of
jumping. you're only sixteen, so it is pretty bizarre.
"this is the best night of my life," you gasp out, and taehyung shakes his head
before joining you in giggling your asses off. noise complaints are imminent at
this point, but taehyung's getting evicted anyways, so it doesn't matter.
"were you really gonna jump, though?" you ask seriously after the laughter has
died down, and taehyung's mouth pulls down his entire face, making him seem a
lot more weary than seventeen.
"what if i was?" he snaps back at you, and immediately stomps across the unit
to his kitchen—dark and unkempt unlike yours.
"maybe you can talk to someone about it—"
"maybe you should shut your mouth before i throw you off the balcony."
that shut you up.
you realize that maybe it was too much of you, telling him to seek counselling
like that, you're crossing a line. so you slowly retrace your steps to the
balcony, not going back to taehyung even as his features droop in guilt over
his outburst.
"jeongguk, i'm sorry," he says, but you shake your head, ready to jump back to
your apartment.
"no," you interject fast, "it's okay, taehyung. um. when are you moving?"
he still looks like a kicked puppy when answering, "seven in the morning."
"that's the time i go to school. i'll see you then, maybe cook up a farewell
lunchbox for you."
taehyung's expression is suddenly unreadable as he watches you travel from his
place to yours, via balcony, of course. "yeah, tomorrow it is then."
"i'm really sorry too, by the way," you say, and he smiles a genuine smile at
you before waving goodnight.
"you're such a cute dongsaeng, did you know that?" he chuckles as your cheeks
heat up from the compliment. "i'll see you soon, kookie."
your heart does a little flip at the new nickname, and you beam up, the wide
smile that you've always hated for emphasizing your buckteeth and wrinkly eyes
too much.
but this time, you don't mind it as much. you wave back happily and slink back
into your room, lulled to sleep by the ideas of lunch menus for taehyung.
—
in the end, taehyung moved in the wee hours of dawn, unbeknownst to anyone, not
even the landlord. no one knew where he went, where he is currently at, what
he's doing, or if he's even alive anymore.
you made an extra lunchbox that day, which you shared with a few hungry
classmates.
they didn't do much in settling the unease in your heart, the lingering feeling
that taehyung had planted there from the previous night from an hour of
meeting.
—
you don't see taehyung anymore after that night.
—
fast forward four years later, you're twenty with a circle of close friends you
really love, out on a random final adventure before summer ends. the truck is
rather new and a huge upgrade of its predecessor. you stand up on its back to
shout gibberish at the top of your lungs, ocean winds slapping your face as
laughter erupts from underneath, where your friends are.
you still remember taehyung, and the memory of that night remains fresh in your
memory despite the test of time. maybe it is the embarrassment—you have to
admit now, at this age, that you were acting really pretentious with the whole
jumping across balconies stunt and attempting to counsel taehyung. you want to
think that taehyung's dropping out of school and smoking was also pretentious,
but you don't have the right.
you remember, after hearing of the news that he moved, you spent the entire day
spacing out in school, only to come home to the neighboring apartment. you went
through every nook and cranny of taehyung's former unit, but there were no
signs of him ever living there.
"hey," seokjin, the eldest in the group, shouts and effectively snaps you out
of reminiscing. "is that guy there trying to jump?"
true enough, at the top of the scaffolding by the pier is a hooded figure,
staring out into the setting sun, feet much too close to the edge where nothing
but crashing waves await. you don't know why you yell at seokjin to stop the
car, and you don't know what absurd instinct drives you to break into a mad
sprint towards the pier, climb up the scaffolding's metal ladders in record
time to pull at the stranger's hand right before he lifts his other foot into
the air and take the leap of faith.
"holy shit, get the fuck down from here!" you shout as best as you can with
labored breathing, chest heaving up and down as you pay back your stupid oxygen
debt.
the stranger isn't such a stranger after all, as taehyung's face greets you in
shock and disbelief before bursting into tears. he clutches at your
shirt—you're just the slightest bit taller than him now, you realize—and his
thin arms eventually wind around your torso to envelope you in a hug.
"hi, kookie," he sniffles, voice cracking against your collarbones.you hug him
back, and the lingering feeling in your heart dissipates with each sob wracking
his frame, absorbed by the cotton of your shirt.
"hi, hyung."
 
Chapter End Notes
     when will i produce quality writing for 25
     nights........................................
***** lonely god - daoko *****
Chapter Summary
     jeongguk doesn't really know what he's looking for, among all these
     bodies in between two towns.
Chapter Notes
     heh..... heh..............................
     WARNINGS: broken vkook (didnt even happen tho), slight vhope, and a
     baekhyun cameo...................
See the end of the chapter for more notes
hit the gym regularly and make sure to take care of your skin. no, don't make
it look as if you're trying, make it look effortless. beauty should always look
effortless. look effortless and young. the youth factor is an important one,
because there are no beauty in wrinkles or an overly made-up face. what natural
charm you have must be exuded, milked to its fullest potential.
wrap people around your finger. if this is too difficult, at least make
yourself insignificant in areas other than appearance. keep your grades high
enough, behavior records perfect. socialize, but do not get involved, be it
romance or cliques. do not gossip, always be pleasant.
these are the rules jeon jeongguk lives by. because the ticket to absolutely
anything is simply youth and a pretty face. the rest are just minor details to
make everyone fall in love with him more and more each day. he is friendly, he
is outgoing. jeon jeongguk—the boy who can do no wrong.
so no one really questions those nights when he gets onboard the train to play
around in the neighboring town for several hours into the hours leading to
morning. "he's just a boy," they'd reason, and no one bats an eye. he goes, and
play he does. the school uniform shed in favor of a sweater and ripped jeans,
leather loafers traded for his well-worn timberland boots. run his fingers
through hair a couple of times, and he's all set to go.
he winks at cute girls and tall men—pretty, pretty things wherever he goes, and
more often than not, they wink back. they saunter up to him and contact comes
easily after. it is mutual attraction at its finest, "hello"s exchanged quickly
with every meeting ending the same way, always them happily knocked out in bed
while he slips away quietly to catch the first train in the early hours of
dawn.
no names, obviously. he must remain unknown, for he is the unknown god of these
two towns, omnipotent without anyone realizing it.
which leads to the question: do gods ever get bored?
because that's all jeongguk feels lately. has been feeling for quite a while,
actually. call him another jaded, cynical teenager, but he senses the world
coming to its saturation point, and from here on, it'll only disintegrate and
deteriorate back to what it once was—dust. that's fine by him. he doesn't have
much going on in life anyway, aside from school, his family, and the
neighboring town at night. the world can die at this very moment and he'll
embrace it willingly.
okay, maybe not that willingly, because this girl has a mini-skirt that goes
above mid-thigh and the sheer blouse hung off her frame so perfectly he just
has to take her somewhere fast.
—
there are days when he looks at the mirror and wrinkle his nose in disgust. of
course. in the end, there are no attachments, and fun as anything was, it
wasn't as if they looked at him with the mercy of humanity—he was but an object
to them, and jeongguk supposes that it is fair, because he does the same, leave
lingering gazes upon exposed skin and ticking off mental checklists when
inspecting their appearances for the first time.
but he can feel tired, right? because the shift from being loved to being
fucked or fucking someone is tiring.
the first time was with an older woman—possibly as old as his mother, but mrs.
jeon is a million times prettier, face still glowing and healthy. this older
woman was wrinkly, stress etched onto every inch of her being as she set
herself onto jeongguk, who did nothing but ask questions because what could he
do? he was soft and pliant and submissive for that one time, and the mid-coitus
realization that all this would need him to cut off his heart on the train,
abandon or at least leave it for keeping somewhere else before bodies became a
currency—tears trickled down his face once she started bouncing on him, because
it was too late to turn back now, much too late.
—
ah, fifteen-year-old him was such a riot. he's alright now, body handled with
more finesse and poise as he moves on with existing, floating about the thin
space of two neighboring towns and its citizens. he has learned to appreciate
the stares, the winks, and the occasional stray touches. they are a sign of
control, after all, because they mean attraction to him, not vice versa. he can
get them wrapped around his finger, he can bait them and turn them into lambs
to the slaughter. in the end, it'll be him leaving them alone in bed.
from the corner of his eye is a tall figure, just slightly taller than him,
dressed nicely in officewear under a classic trench coat. jeongguk appreciates
the sharp face, tall nose, and dark eyes—he's always liked the older ones
better, because they don't pretend, don't hide as much as the younger ones do.
it's a refreshing change compared to his peers in high school, with the man's
hair waxed just the right amount to the side, none of those awful updos, none
of those pretentious bowlcuts.
"hey," he calls out, but the man walks on, loafers polished and respectable
compared to jeongguk's ratty boots. "hey, mister," he calls louder, tailing
after the man because the other has such a body even underneath layers of
fabric—jeongguk sees nothing but legs and nice, long fingers holding onto a
briefcase—it would be better if those fingers were in me.
"what do you want?" he finally turns around to acknowledge jeongguk, and the
other calculates the curve of his lips—the one that wins hearts and gets tin
foils ripped open faster than he can reply with—
"i want you?" ah, he let himself get a bit coy with that one. no matter,
jeongguk will just play along with this concept for today. the other man is
slack-jawed, and he laughs breathily, attractive as he looks down, then back up
at jeongguk for a good look at the boy.
"you're so young and beautiful," he clucks his tongue, but a smile graces his
exceedingly handsome face, and jeongguk doesn’t like where the conversation is
going. "go find something better to do with your time, because this is a
horrible waste of your youth."
the man swirls on a heel and sets about his merry way to god knows where,
because jeongguk is now left terribly frustrated and angry—
he's never had "no" as an answer.
—
"you're here again," the man blinks in half-disbelief, half-amusement, at
jeongguk standing in front of him, effectively blocking his way. "good
afternoon," he smiles, and jeongguk wants to laugh.
"i'm not done with you," jeongguk throws him a tightlipped smile in reply,
because truly, he is frustrated. "i don't take no for an answer."
the man does a deliberate show of checking the time, and mockingly sighs.
jeongguk can't help but pout—he's being treated like such a child and while he
knows that he's no older than seventeen, this man is cooing at him as if he's
seven. "i think i have time for coffee, you?"
jeongguk slips his thumbs into his jean's pockets, "i know a nice café down the
street."
the man takes the lead, however. "but i know a better one."
—
"i can't believe you literally meant coffee," jeongguk scowls, lip slightly
jutting out in mild disbelief as the man sets down a tray before him, two
identical containers of piping hot coffee ready for consumption. he's not
paying, that much is settled. he didn't even order the drink.
"what else would i mean?" the man singsongs, delicately removing the lid of his
drink to take a cautious sip. jeongguk wishes he could pretend not to pay
attention to the red burning across the other's upper lip—it glistens and is
so, so tempting.
jeongguk turns his voice down to the lowest audible volume possible as he
whispers, "i was hoping that you'd take me somewhere and fuck my brains out, or
i can fuck yours, but i prefer the former when it comes to you." he keeps his
face as straight as possible, chin up, lips pouted just the right degree, and
the other chokes on his too-hot coffee.
"kid," he strangles out, "i don't even know your name, and you can’t be older
than sixteen."
"the name's jimin," jeongguk says without missing a beat, checking that name
off his extensive list. "and for your information, i'm eighteen."
the man scoffs at him, and jeongguk's features darken with displeasure at being
taken so lightly. "i'm calling bullshit, first of all, because no jimin looks
like you do—also, you're not eighteen. don't ask, i just know."
they settle into an uncomfortable, stifling silence, with the younger glaring
daggers at the other. his cup of coffee goes untouched, steam still rising from
the slit on the lid.
"it's getting late, so i should be getting home." the man makes a move to get
his briefcase and leave, but jeongguk's fast, and he latches onto a wrist.
"i'm jeongguk, seventeen years old," he blurts out, but not loud enough to
cause a scene. "and you?"
the man has the nerve to smirk, light browns of his hair matching the caramel
of his coffee as six pm sunlight gathers a halo round his head.
"that's more like it—my name's taehyung."
—
jeongguk ends up frequenting the spot more often than he liked, waiting by a
glasses shop and fashion boutique where people walk by in rush hour. taehyung's
light hair makes him easier to spot for jeongguk, and the other never evades
him when he catches the older by his wrist or coat.
"same café?" taehyung asks, brows raised. jeongguk can say that they're almost
perfect. almost.
"i'm getting sick of you ordering caramel macchiato for me every time, so today
will be the park."
another thing is that taehyung always insists on paying, rejecting jeongguk's
money fervently in a game of reverse tug-of-war. the younger hates the feeling
of being treated, because he doesn't want to owe taehyung anything, doesn't
want any connections to be built in this town. as an act of rebellion, he's
been slipping 500 won coins into taehyung's coat's pocket each time they meet.
"fine day to be walking around—it's going to be winter soon, so we should savor
the fall while we can." taehyung chatters like an old man, jeongguk finds,
making constant conversation regarding the weather, the education system, his
life as a highschooler, and how tiring being a working adult is ("jeongguk-ah,
all the taxes i have to pay."). but jeongguk won't lie—it's entertaining, how
shallow yet not shallow taehyung's words are. he's grown so used to his friends
at school gossiping about girls, sports, and late trends that he hasn't had
time to give curse words and slang a break. taehyung reminds him of actual
words, and while they still curse a lot under their breaths, jeongguk finds a
refreshing new meaning in keeping the conversation going.
"so you're graduating next spring, right?" taehyung asks suddenly, and jeongguk
sucks in a breath, throwing his head back as he groans at the thought of exams.
"please, don't even bring that up—i'm stressed enough as it is, and you haven't
done anything to me." jeongguk playfully leans closer to taehyung, unabashedly
flirting with the other as he places his chin on taehyung's shoulder,
"taehyung-ssi, when are you gonna take me home?"
 "jeongguk, i'm twenty-four," taehyung clearly exclaims. "that's illegal, and i
don't find jail appealing."
"you're no fun, taehyung-ssi."
"call me hyung, at least, so i don't feel so old."
jeongguk feels a jump in his chest, footsteps lighter, and he finds himself
almost skipping at the thought of being considered close enough to call
taehyung his hyung. "alright, hyung."
—
jeongguk goes out with taehyung so often that he forgets his initial
prerogative—to find random strangers and sleep with them. he feels disgusted
once he realizes, and makes a mistake by picking up an office lady at the spot
where he usually waits for taehyung. to add, it is at the same time the other
would get home from work. taehyung sees him chuckling at the woman while she
runs her hands none-too-innocently up and down his arms.
it is in this moment that he knows he's nothing but another teenager—another
lost boy biting off more than he can chew, whose head is honestly filled with
nothing much than a romanticized version of his past flings yet his overly-
grown body is driven by nothing but pure libido. his head is now full of
taehyung after catching a brief glance from across the sea of workers going
home in rush hour, and in a split second, a movie is made.
taehyung will stomp over to where he is, and take his hand by force, drag him
away from the woman while providing him every reason he's ever needed about why
"this is wrong." jeongguk will realize the error of his ways, and taehyung will
realize that the way the younger gazes at him is a bit too much for admiration.
they'll argue a lot, but in the end, he'll graduate high school just fine and
go to wherever taehyung is. the caramel macchiatos and paradoxical
conversations will become forever to him, and god—he just wants—
but taehyung never comes. never spares the younger a second glance as he flees,
leaving jeongguk alone to sleep with a woman as old as his mother.
—
it's a bit after his exams, a bit before winter break starts that jeongguk
gathers enough courage to go back to what he dubs as "taehyung's spot." he
tries to look good and comfortable at the same time—all his garments are his
favorite, beanie included. soft puffs of white escape him, and more join in
from the right side.
taehyung's here. with another man.
the other man is shorter than both him and taehyung, but sunnier than them
combined. he smiles like home, like warmth personified, and jeongguk can't find
it in him to argue or ask "what?"
"hi, hyung," he greets instead, smile painfully plastered on his chapped lips,
and taehyung's pitying eyes catches the fakeness of it all. "hi, um—"
"it's hoseok. jung hoseok." the other man extends a hand to shake jeongguk's,
and the younger responds, a millisecond too late than what's normal, but it's
alright. "taehyung has talked so much about you! he's been telling me about
this highschooler who goes to the next town just for fun, man, i wish i did
that."
jeongguk nods pleasantly, keeping up with hoseok's chatter while locking his
gaze with taehyung's. his eyes are glistening slightly, but harder than ever,
what the fuck, hyung?
sorry, jeongguk, is all taehyung shrugs with. "hoseok-ah, we gotta go, the
reservation is at seven."
"right, right," hoseok beams up at taehyung, sweet and soft, and they do look
perfect together—too perfect for each other. it blinds jeongguk a little, how
they did everything he's ever imagined, with their little fleeting touches and
stealing glances. "see you around, jeongguk! enjoy your winter break!"
he waves hoseok goodbye, taehyung just shoots him a weak grin before turning
around.
he never goes back to that town.
—
"hey, mister," a coy bite of the lip, "what's your name?"
"i'm baekhyun," the man says, letting jeongguk unbutton his shirt while his
fingers remove the other's belt. "and you?"
"i'm hoseok," jeongguk replies, and the man above him grins.
 
Chapter End Notes
     idk i was........... inspired by the animator expo
     vid................
     this was super fast hue
***** bloodstream - stateless *****
Chapter Summary
     it's a chain of lost and found.
Chapter Notes
     why am i emo.............................
     and @haley and azzad: no shuddup this isnt related to Personal Real
     Life Situation
     unedited and done on a wdnjvivd whim
     ALSO this is a sneak peek of sort to a fic i plan to dish out at the
     end of year after exams WHAZAAASSDCSVN
See the end of the chapter for more notes
the streets are cold and empty at one in the morning, just a few drunkards
waddling by, with the occasional person savoring the chilling october air as if
they own the world. but a glance to the two figures standing by the vending
machine breaks that illusion—the world isn't theirs, can't possibly be theirs
when two people can look at each other like the two figures do.
well, at least one of them is looking at the other.
"stop smiling," says the first figure, tall and defeated, body curling into
himself yet his gaze falls on nowhere other than the taller man next to him.
"sorry—i can't help it." this man is taller, bigger than his companion, yet
defeated as his eyes wander, lips stretched into a tight smile as he
breathlessly laughs the apology. his boots make a steady tapping noise against
the concrete, grating on the other's nerves, and itchy fingers break the
stitches holding the seams of his jacket together.
"how can you smile in this situation?" the first man is painted with hues of
red—the maroon of his sweater, the flush on cold cheeks, swollen lip from
getting bitten during bouts of silence. upon closer inspection, his eyes are
bloodshot.
"can we just—let this go?" the second man would be blue, blue all over. the
navy of his beanie, the purple of his smile, fingers shaking slightly as his
jagged nails mangle string after string. weary fingers stop him—hands larger
than his oddly tender in the way they pull his digits away from the fabric of
his windbreaker.
"normal people can't just let whatever this is go, jeongguk," the other says,
voice sticky, wet, and barely above a whisper as he chokes back tears. but his
eyes don't have any shine left in them—nothing quite shines anymore. the city
is too bright, yet his pupils are too dark. devoid of life yet completely
filled—with loss, that is. and not loss in the sense of grief, but more of
self. he is completely lost because the person whose fingers he's holding so
gently isn't guiding him anywhere.
"you can't expect me to be normal, taehyung, i thought you out of all people
would know this."
the wind howls, bringing hope to the first man—taehyung—as he straightens up
his back, staring at his companion dead on in the other's glassy eyes. the
smile is wiped clean off his face—lips which are supposed to seal breaking
apart as shaky breaths leak out of the corners. there it is, a glimmer of
emotion in the haze of static and stagnant blue. that in itself is almost
enough to keep taehyung going.
but only almost.
"i know, jeongguk, i know." a run of fingers through dry, chalky hair, rough
and split at the ends. "i just wish you'd say something, anything—"
"you think i wouldn't? do you really think i like this?" blue wholly digresses
to tempestuous navy as the vending machine short-circuits and blows a fuse.
it's darker than ever now, but the bared teeth and exposure of too much cornea
is clear to taehyung even without the lights. it reminds him of dogs fighting
in alleyways, and he doesn't find the idea the slightest bit charming.
the wind quiets, and jeongguk's shallow breathing can be heard clearly. it's
erratic, and taehyung's grip on the other's fingers tightens, his own digits
now enveloping jeongguk's palm as well, in worry. the action seems to get
through to jeongguk, who takes two steps forward, closer to taehyung. the two
figures look like a huge shadow in the dark, but look closer and it's clear
that one has his forehead on the other's shoulder, one pair of hands
intertwined tight while the other pair are on each other's backs. taehyung's
hand moves, however, moves up to take off jeongguk's beanie to card fingers
through the other's hair, not as dry and chalky as his own, but close.
"do you think i liked it? being played around by yoongi-hyung like that?"
jeongguk mumbles into taehyung's sweater, which gets damper by the second. he
lets go of taehyung's fingers to claw at wool instead, and the other just lets
him, fingers still brushing strands of hair, slowly detangling the knots and
smoothing down strays.
"hyung," he sobs, letting the relief of knowing, of proving to taehyung that
he's not like yoongi, he's not a stone-cold bastard with a heart that's been
frozen solid a million times over. "hyung, i'm sorry, taehyung—i'm so sorry."
"it's okay," taehyung breathes into the other's hair, kissing the crown a few
times. "i'm sorry too."
"i promise i won't ever be like him so please—don't leave me too."
taehyung's worry doesn't dissipate at all, in fact increasing because in all
five years or so of knowing the other since they were in highschool, he's never
heard jeongguk sound so weak, so desperate. he stops all activity to gather
jeongguk's face in his hands—wet with tears and snot, and it's supposed to be
disgusting, but he can't help but feel something akin to happiness, no, more
than that. taehyung thinks that he is at last half-elated at this.
so he laughs, because if he doesn't, he's sure that he'll start crying
alongside jeongguk. "let it all out," he chuckles, bringing the other's
forehead to his own as the laughter, the sheer joy, keeps rolling in. his knees
start to tremble—that could be the relief hitting him at last. he's never felt
so satisfied. the sobs die down to the childish sniffling, something very
'jeongguk' in taehyung's eyes.
"jeongguk-ah, if you promise to trust me, i swear on everything i have now,
then, and could ever have, that i won't leave you." he holds the other's face
at a distance again, and his thumbs wipe away the tears at the corners of
jeongguk's eyes. his smile is wide and bright as he asks, "promise?"
"yeah," jeongguk laughs in turn, breathless but finally at peace with himself,
"promise."
Chapter End Notes
     i love The Suffer :))))
***** touch - anda *****
Chapter Summary
     taehyung is a man on a mission, and jeongguk is a shy freshman.
Chapter Notes
     fINALLY!!!!!!1 something fluffy and lighthearted for yall
     the angst must stop let's be emo and cute
     many thanks for sassyneki for the inspiration!!!!!1
"oh my god, jimin!"
the boy in question chokes on his protein shake, a bit of milk dribbling down
the corner of his mouth quickly wiped as he groans in disgust from the mess. he
scowls at the other seated on the only spinning chair in their shared room—who
is currently an inch away from smashing the keyboard as he glowers upon the
small text displayed on screen. "what the hell, tae."
"a new post!" 'tae' shrieks, "and the exams just finished like—twenty minutes
ago!"
jimin makes his way to the kitchen, drinking the rest of his shake over the
sink while his roommate continues grumbling at the computer. "they're probably
a language major, then. i know yoongi-hyung is capable of whipping something up
that fast."
"so can namjoon-hyung and i, but we're not this—"
"witty? clever? creative?"
"… rude."
jimin laughs at the sheer amount of disdain in that one single word, "why are
you so obsessed though?"
"he dissed me, jimin. dissed me online. on the world. wide. web."
"so?" jimin replies, blasé as he quirks an eyebrow at his roommate. "also,
you're using the term wrongly."
the other whips his head around, a face of pretentious shock as he gasps
melodramatically, "and you call yourself my best friend?"
"oh, i am, taehyung." jimin smiles saccharine sweet before gulping the last bit
of his shake. he walks back to taehyung's desk and leans over the other's head
to get a better view of the screen. "how bad can it be?"
"enough to make me want to kick them in the groin." taehyung clicks a couple of
links, and scrolls down to view the headline in bold helvetica—
Biology Department Genius Reveals His Secrets to Exemplar Plant Samples
"huh," jimin says, unimpressed. "that's so lackluster."
"keep reading," taehyung commands, and read on jimin does. his eyes dart from
one word to another fast, and his mouth automatically speak them outloud.
"third year undergraduate, kim taehyung, better known by peers as tae-tae—oh,
wow, that's some research there."
"jimin, do you not find it creepy?" taehyung scolds. jimin ignores him to read
the rest of the sentence.
"—known by peers as tae-tae, was seen to have been employing the 'positive
music' method in growing his potted plant samples. however, in accordance to
the science department's values of creativity and innovation, the method wasn't
done as a lazy copy of past experiments, as most amateur biologists would often
get trapped by. mr. kim added his own flair to the practical by means of cooing
at the plants." jimin halts, slowly meeting taehyung's scathing stare as the
other tries to even his breathing. "do you want me to continue still?"
their gazes focus back onto the screen, where a photo of taehyung kneeling
before his plant samples, finger tickling their leaves, is displayed in all its
iphone camera glory. the caption reads, "'it's nice to see you too, this
morning, uncle cilantro.'" taehyung abruptly jumps out of his seat, causing the
wheels to pinch jimin's toes. his screech goes unnoticed as taehyung stomps all
the way to his bed, snatching a pillow to punch it repeatedly.
"i swear to god, if i don't find this guy—"
"guys."
"guys, whatever! i will find them—whoever wrote these articles, and i will.
shut them down."
jimin gingerly sits down on the spinning chair, using his good toes to bring
himself closer to the desk. he scrolls down further to read the rest of the
article while making little comments throughout, "since they were close enough
to take a picture of you like this in the lab, you'd remember them, right? how
many people can be in a lab all at once anyway?"
taehyung doesn't appreciate the way jimin looks at him as if he's an ignorant
brainless doof, and replies the other tersely, "it was lab orientation
day—about twenty freshies were there, and one of them had to catch me talking
to mr. cilantro."
("… seriously though, mr. cilantro? really, tae?"
"are we simply going to ignore the fact that a little freshie has the guts to
do this to me?")
"would yoongi-hyung or namjoon-hyung know any of the language freshmen?" jimin
proposes, amused grin in place as he watches taehyung pout, slouching onto his
pillow, deflated from all the punches. "i swear, i've never seen you so
obsessed—how many months has it been, three?"
"two months," taehyung corrects, "and i already asked them—they only know one."
"who?"
"this hoseok guy who decided to suddenly double major after two years of
dance."
jimin's eyes widen comically as he clumsily pulls his phone out of his pocket.
"wait," he says, thumbs rapidly scrolling through his instagram feed until he
finds the picture. reaching taehyung's bed in two long strides, he shows the
other a picture of sweaty boys posing in front of a mirror wall—jimin's dance
crew. a short finger points to one of their faces, "this hoseok guy?"
eyebrows raised in recognition, taehyung nods. "yeah, that's him."
jimin closes the application and goes through his contacts next, browsing
through the letter 'h' until he finds hoseok's number. he sends the number to
taehyung, who is merely confused by the whole deal as the other tells him to
check his phone. "then hoseok is the one you're looking for, right?"
"it might not be him," taehyung counters, earning him an eye-roll from jimin.
"what if i get the wrong guy? he'd think i'm some weird stalker."
"but you stalk his blog everyday—"
"jiminie," taehyung interrupts, "let me find him my own way. please."
raising his hands in surrender, jimin steps away from the desk, pacing back to
his own bed opposite taehyung's. "alright. you do you, friend."
taehyung grumbles back at him, but saves hoseok's number anyway.
                                      ***
"taehyung, go back to the science building."
"no, yoongi-hyung, please, this is important."
the older sighs in defeat, his tray of food growing cold as taehyung blocks
him—a toddler nearly a head taller than him. "alright, just. please let me sit
down, okay?"
taehyung nods enthusiastically, trailing after yoongi as he finds the only
student in the entire canteen who wears sunglasses indoors. they sit down, and
the guy removes his sunglasses to fix taehyung a confused look, to which the
other responds by showing his two upperclassmen the homepage for big hit press.
"c'mon," taehyung starts whispering, "language geniuses. you know that our uni
has a satire blog going around, right?"
yoongi exchanges stares with namjoon, before pausing his lunch in order to
clasp taehyung's hands in his. "kid, whatever it is you're looking for, we
can't help you. we don't know anything about the blog."
namjoon toys around with his spoon, one of his hands reaching out to take the
phone out of taehyung's grasp. he skims through one of the articles, and
frowns. "to be honest, this looks like your writing style, yoongi-hyung."
"do i look like i have time to run a satire school blog?" says yoongi, to which
namjoon nods quietly.
"so you two really don't know anything? how about that new guy—hoseok?"
"taehyung, are you trying to become a reporter?" namjoon teases. taehyung
sticks out his tongue in defiance, but immediately goes back to pouting when
yoongi's hands remove themselves from his.
"it's called curiosity," taehyung proudly states, "and also exploration.
scientific knowledge."
"hoseok's too busy to do anything in his free time but cry, eat, and sleep."
yoongi continues eating, and namjoon cringes at his open mouth blurting out
words while still chewing food. "i thought your scientific knowledge was good
enough to deduce this."
"also, hoseok writes slow, just saying," namjoon adds. sunglasses sliding off
the bridge of his nose, he stares down taehyung, "how are you even sure that
the admin is in our department? what if he's in the IT department?"
the feeling of being back in square one never is a pleasant one for taehyung,
no matter how many times his experiments have gone wrong. "fine," he huffs,
"some help you two are." he drags himself away from the other two, tray of food
half finished. he mutters "thanks" anyway, because yoongi is blinking at him as
if he's a wet puppy.
the trip to the IT department in the science building is a long and arduous
one, filled with many similarly dead eyes unhidden by thick-rimmed glasses
perched upon pale noses. taehyung thought that the online programmer memes were
an exaggeration. after his first few visits here, however, taehyung reminds
himself to bring a sixpack of redbull every time he steps into the vicinity.
but today, he has no redbull under his arms—no subways or anything for the
pitiful IT kids slouching around him as he walks past—taehyung is here for
personal business, a bag of tcbtl's most expensive organic coffee beans ready
for the almighty kim seokjin.
kim seokjin is an old friend of taehyung's since his middle school days, and so
it was with the older's help that taehyung managed to practically fly into this
university's doors. maybe it seems as if he's using seokjin in untrained eyes,
but really, taehyung feels nothing but eternal gratitude for the other. redbull
is too cheap of a choice for the almighty kim seokjin—getting him instant
coffee equates to a slap to the face.
"guess who," taehyung singsongs, hands covering seokjin's eyes much to the
older's annoyance.
"kim taehyung," he warns, voice low and frankly, very dangerous, "you get your
dirty hands off me right now or i will lob my hard drive at you."
"alright, alright," taehyung huffs, pulling back with an unnecessary amount of
grace as he presents seokjin with his coffee beans. the older nods with a slow
smirk, accepting the bag as if it's dirty money as pay for an assassination job
done right. with the favor he's approaching seokjin for, however, it might as
well be dirty money.
"what do you need?" seokjin asks succinctly, making his way to the coffee
machine in one corner. the sounds of beans getting ground make it hard for
taehyung to collect his thoughts, and so he ends up half-babbling to the older
regarding his predicament.
"do people in your department run blogs and stuff?" he asks dumbly, earning a
pointed look of confusion from seokjin. about five coffee drips later, taehyung
hears a response at last.
"taehyung, everyone runs blogs," he deadpans. "i remember your big bang thirst
blog from freshman year—what makes the kids here any different?"
taehyung groans at his own stupidity before opening his web browser to show
seokjin the blogsite. "this! i'm talking about this site." big hit press is
displayed on the screen with ironic times new roman font, and seokjin reels
back from the sudden increase in brightness.
"god, taehyung, warn a guy next time," he complains to taehyung's displeasure.
"you owl."
seokjin sticks his tongue out for a second, then takes taehyung's phone to
scroll through the site. a smile creeps onto his face, and turns into ugly
bursts of giggles. "oh my god," he snorts inelegantly, "this is comedy gold."
taehyung slaps seokjin's thigh in impatience, "stop reading and tell me if you
know who's behind this!"
"oh god," seokjin cries, "mr. cilantro." he points at the picture of taehyung
talking to his sample plants, and explodes into hysterical cackling, laughs
gone silent from the sheer intensity. his face scrunches up in the most
unattractive ways, and taehyung is doing his best to resist the urge to punch
the older.
"i seriously need your help here!" taehyung snatches his phone away from
seokjin's loosened grip, "i even brought you coffee beans!"
"okay, look," seokjin wheezes as he tries to regain his composure, "being one
of the top grads of the IT department does not make me a master hacker. i can't
find the owner of this blog, not legally, at least."
taehyung clucks his tongue, "then your degree is a lie. so does that mean you
can do it illegally?"
"no," seokjin answers with an incredulous glare, "i don't love you enough to do
that."
"horrible," taehyung whispers, then scoots away to the opposite end of the
room, admiring the posters tacked all over the walls. his eyes wander from code
to code, all incomprehensible to him. "well, i guess i should get going. thanks
anyway."
"no problem," seokjin says, back facing taehyung as he returns to his work.
"good luck with your hunt."
                                      ***
taehyung makes a beeline towards the nearest vending machine by the elevators,
and proceeds to press in his choice beverage before discovering that he is
flat-out broke—truly so, not even a single penny in his wallet. he wails as the
machine beeps, confirming his order's cancellation. in frustration, taehyung
repeatedly bonks his forehead against the vending machine, propping one leg up
on its glass surface as he grunts at his sodden luck.
all hope is almost lost, until taehyung spots a student walking his direction,
nose buried in his programming textbook. taehyung bounces up to the boy—"hi?
excuse me?"
the boy reveals himself from behind the textbook and taehyung never felt fear
wash over him this swiftly. menacing dark eyes hooded by bangs meet his own,
scathing stare pointed to emphasize the other's displeasure at getting
disturbed. "what," the boy mumbles, tone snappy as his finger tap the spine of
his textbook impatiently.
"uh, yeah," taehyung clears his throat, "do you have spare change? i really
need a drink."
the boy looks at him in what seems to be—amusement? he scoffs before digging
into his backpack for his wallet, presenting taehyung with a 100 won coin in
seconds. "this enough?"
"oh my god, yes," taehyung sighs in relief, and punches in his previous order
immediately. "right, um," he turns around to face the stranger, "thank you so
much, would you like a sip?"
the other makes a face at taehyung and waves, saying "no, thank you" while
resuming his trek down the hallway, back turned towards the other. taehyung
decides to overlook the sheer amount of smug the boy exudes, gulping down sharp
cola before pressing the elevator button.
the cola stinging his throat somewhat reminds him of how good looking the
stranger was. if it were water that he's drinking, taehyung would be
choking—but alas, all the drink has to offer him is an unpleasant burn as it
hits his stomach.
                                      ***
"jiminnie, jimothy, jimbles, my love, my life," taehyung yells from the
doorway, "the breadwinner is home, what's for dinner?"
taehyung spots jimin sniggering at his phone on the couch, and strides across
the living room to his best friend. "whatcha looking at?"
"taehyung," jimin chortles, "oh my god, look." he angles his phone so that
taehyung can see the screen, and on it is another headline in helvetica—
University Economy Must Be Fixed
Students can't even afford a can of Coke. Picture credit: BigHitPress
at taehyung's jaw drop, jimin's stifled giggles burst into hyena-like cackling.
taehyung skims through the article, breath held until the moment he reaches the
final line, "—so that coke can be equally distributed to the entire student
body." he lets out a screech which under normal circumstances would deafen
jimin, but it is equally matched with the other's laughter.
"fucking cocksucker, jesus christ," taehyung screams, battering one of the
couch pillows while he's at it. "this motherfucking jerk, stupid helvetica
headlines with stupid times new roman font—"
"god," jimin wheezes while wiping at his eyes, "how did you let someone take a
picture of you like this?"
taehyung stares closely at the picture—good iphone quality, and there he is,
one leg propped high up on the vending machine, tight jeans making the position
emphasize his nethers. his forehead meets the machine's glass display, possibly
contorted face blocked by his arms which are holding up fists against the
machine's surface.
"i would never—" he starts, but stops when an odd hiccup makes its way out of
his mouth. the hiccup becomes a burp, and jimin instantly ceases his laughter
to crawl away from taehyung.
"bro, gross," jimin wails from his new position on the floor. but taehyung
doesn't care, because he can taste soda at the back of his tongue, and he
remembers now.
"jimin," he says, slowly and surely, "i think i know who's behind big hit
press." his lips curl into a feral smile, and jimin is shaken from where he's
crouching on the floor, a visible cringe wracking his frame.
"who?" he asks.
taehyung's smile falters at that, because he completely forgot the fact that he
doesn't know the stranger's name. his response comes out rather pathetic, "to
be honest, i don't know."
jimin rolls his eyes, "you just said you did."
"i do!" taehyung retorts, "but i only remember his face." jimin gets back up on
his feet, and takes his phone back from taehyung.
"oh hey," he calls out, "yoongi-hyung's classmate is having a party of
sorts—wanna come with?"
"not in the mood," taehyung drawls from where he's perched on the couch, and
jimin pokes the other's cheek.
"c'mon, tae," he coos, index finger now circling the cheek, as if stirring it.
taehyung slaps his hand away, and jimin resumes, "it'll be fun, and who knows?
maybe you can find the blogger there. you remember his face, yeah?"
taehyung lights up at the persuasion, and power walks into the 'party' section
of his closet—seemingly decent clothes with odd twists. he picks out his trusty
dark wash jeans and his favorite top—an innocent-looking black scoop neck tee
with long sleeves reaching past his wrists, but shows in all capitals the words
'fuck me' at the front when he starts sweating.
as a final touch, he adds a dab of red tint on the inner center part where his
lips meet—his friends, jimin included, has always found it odd, but they got
used to it, especially after considering how good it looks on taehyung.
"still at it with the lip tint?" jimin teases as they lace up their shoes at
the doorway.
"dude, don't lie, you wanna try some."
jimin bites his lips in contemplation, then nods several times, eyes downcast
to hide his shyness. "actually, just for tonight, yes please."
taehyung pulls out his tube of red lip tint and applies it onto jimin's plush
lips with a wicked grin. "yoongi-hyung is gonna be blown away," he says while
patting jimin's lips with his pinky, "shit stains, so it'll look really pretty
when you go down on him and your lips—"
"okay," jimin interrupts, pursing his lips a little to even out the tint,
"thank you."
"you're welcome."
                                      ***
barely an hour into the house party, and taehyung can already feel the imminent
sexile as jimin and yoongi suck each other's faces off at one end of the couch.
in a way, he feels a bit jealous of the two—they looked awkward as hell
together, what with their heights, and no one really expected the min yoongi to
like someone two years younger. taehyung recalls the days when he thought he
liked seokjin, but it was just too weird and brotherly between the two, and so
they stayed friends.
jimin and yoongi are happy, however, and when jimin is happy, of course
taehyung is happy—
okay, maybe not. they've gone further to necking, and taehyung immediately
averts his eyes away to his cliché red solo cup. there's barely any rum and
coke left in it, so he saunters up to the kitchen counter which served as a
makeshift drinks bar. he's a little tipsy by now, but that's okay. taehyung is
very sure that he can handle a few lab reports still.
someone is there—male, with what might as well be the most ridiculous sweater
taehyung has had the pleasure (or displeasure) of seeing in his entire life.
it's hard to tell with the dim lighting, but taehyung can see the black stripes
and—holes?—on what seems to be maroon knit.
upon further inspection, however, taehyung decides that the ridiculous sweater
is indeed a pleasure to see, because the stupid fake rips on the garment
exposes the wearer's skin, yet still leaving much to the imagination as the man
in question finally turns around to face taehyung.
taehyung wishes that he wore a bit more that night, maybe a choker to match the
man—scratch that, boy's, and perhaps more distressed jeans instead of these
skinny ones. he should've done his hair right too, style it halfway up the way
his exes liked it, showing his (as seokjin puts it) 'strong' brows. the other
boy's black hair is parted awkwardly in the middle, yet it works for him,
framing his not-quite-innocent face while showcasing his slightly stretched
piercings.
so as it is now, taehyung has nothing but his collarbones and red lips to match
the other's equally lethal shoulders and kohl-rimmed eyes. he tries to look
down in what might be embarrassment, or maybe a last-ditch attempt to prevent
any sort of prolonged eye contact. taehyung is on a mission to find a certain
jerk who likes to play pretend journalist, not get things going in a stranger's
bedroom. looking down, however, earns him a good view of the guy's
legs—downright godly thighs clad in tightfitting black denim. taehyung prays
that his gulp isn't obvious.
maroon sweater boy unabashedly continues boring holes into taehyung's side as
he pours himself another drink. taehyung sees the other's empty cup, and goes
to pour some liquor for the boy. "cheers?" he says hesitantly, to which the
other responds with a dull thunkof his cup against taehyung's.
they drink in silence for what seems like eons. the lack of conversation yet
incredulous amounts of staring at each other makes liquor go down both their
throats faster than taehyung gulping down his own saliva. taehyung stops
himself after his third cup of straight rum, feeling the slightly punched
sensation of being drunk, but not quite that inebriated yet. the other boy is a
different story—cheeks flushed and eyes hazy, unfocused and frankly quite
pretty.
taehyung admits that it is kind of turning him on.
"hey," maroon sweater finally says, "i know you."
"who, me?" taehyung points to himself, and the other nods somewhat, before
leaning in to crash his lips with taehyung's.
it's slow, just like the entire party, how their lips slide past each other's,
trying to slot neatly only to end up mouthing at the other's jaw. taehyung
feels the heat rise from his stomach all the way up to his chest, not the
slightest bit gentle as it flares, burning him inside out like how the boy
abandons his cup to place one hand on taehyung's hip, the other tugging at soft
strands of dark brown hair, causing taehyung to moan in between kisses, if
their sloppy movements qualify to be called as such. taehyung himself holds
onto the other's nape and firm waist, one finger finding a rip in the sweater
to draw circles into his bare skin. he whines into taehyung's mouth, and a hand
slides down from taehyung's hip to brush the front of his jeans.
"wait," taehyung breathes, hand on the boy's chest to stop him from advancing,
"let's take this someplace else?"
the boy is panting, lips slightly stained by taehyung's red tint, the sheen of
spit emphasizing how swollen they got, mixing in with the sweat which starts to
bead on his forehead and upper lip. "okay," he sighs, throwing himself onto
taehyung, who is thankfully still sober enough to muster up the strength to
support the other as they make their way to the available rooms.
they find one quickly, just before the staircase, and taehyung practically
kicks the guy into the room, alcohol-laden hands taking a few extra seconds to
simply lock the door. the boy approaches taehyung from behind, sucking messily
at the nape of his neck and bites taehyung's ear without any warning, eliciting
a whimper out of the other. "fuck," taehyung groans as he grinds back against
the boy's erection, still clad in dark denim. the latter snaps his hips
forward, sighing into taehyung's ear as he claws at the other's sweaty shirt.
he notices the typography on the garment, and voices it out as a real question.
"fuck me?" he asks, voice high and sweet as taehyung lets himself get pulled
towards the bed. they stumble upon each other's feet and unceremoniously fall
down onto the bed, taehyung pinning the seemingly younger student down onto the
sheets by both wrists. closer up, he's definitely younger—crooked grin showing
off a slight overbite, complimenting his half-lidded eyes and sharp jawline
despite the roundness of his face.
"how old are you?" taehyung finds himself asking, hoping to any god out there
that the boy isn't a kid who just turned eighteen.
"i'm nineteen," he mutters, one knee impatiently going up to rub at taehyung's
hard-on. "hurry, please?"
"shit, you're young," taehyung exclaims, but the boy under him is having none
of it—yanking his sweater off in one go before tugging at taehyung's shirt. his
foot kicks taehyung's knee, causing the older to crash onto him, and he bucks
up his hips to meet the other's.
"strip," the boy commands from under taehyung, grin swiped clean from his face
as he practically fucks taehyung's eyes, "then unzip my pants."
who was taehyung to say no? upon seeing the other's naked torso—smooth, sweat-
slicked skin covering lean muscle—all rationality goes down the drain as he
nearly rips his favorite shirt in the process of removing it. the boy helps
unzip taehyung's jeans as he does the same. taehyung's fingernails scrape along
the other's legs as he shimmies the boy's jeans off along with his underwear.
"condom?" taehyung asks, the question nearly slipping his mind from the
adrenaline pumping in him.
the boy lowers taehyung's pants down to his thighs, and mouths against the
older's collarbone, "i'm clean, you?"
"clean," taehyung sighs, "are you sure you don't need them?"
"lube, front pocket," he breathes out, ignoring taehyung and gesturing towards
his discarded jeans. taehyung bends down quickly to retrieve the small bottle,
and squeezes out a generous amount to warm between his palms.
"stop me if it feels weird," taehyung says as a precaution, to which the other
nods, and so he slowly inserts one finger, then two, then three—pumping in and
out at a set pace, stretching the younger out. the boy isn't too impatient,
thankfully, taking in taehyung's fingers nicely as he fucks himself on them.
taehyung is honestly glad that he isn't that drunk—the alcohol has washed off
slightly in his case, but it doesn't seem to be the case for the younger boy
moaning underneath him, hips still moving lazily in tandem to taehyung's
fingers. taehyung himself has to ask the other if he's ready, and the moment he
enters that heavenly tight heat—he thought he might as well be dead.
the younger is too far gone, sweet sounds dripping out of his pretty mouth,
unrestrained, as he meets taehyung's thrusts the best he can. the boy is too
intoxicated to ride taehyung, so the older lifts one leg up to throw over his
shoulder, allowing him to fuck the younger harder and deeper, sharp gasps
getting louder to something akin to whining as taehyung's hand slinks in
between them to pump his neglected member. taehyung is grateful for the
position not only because he can sink himself completely into the other, but
because the view is ridiculously nice from where he is—the boy is thatgood-
looking, and to watch that handsome face contort in various levels of pleasure
makes him regret not bringing a camera along. his jaw is completely slack,
mouth slightly open to elicit sighs in sync with taehyung's thrusts. his nearly
styled hair comes apart, bangs falling to the side of his face buried into the
sheets. wet lashes from what may be sweat or tears glisten slightly in the dark
of the room, eyes shut and brows relaxed unlike taehyung's which are furrowed
in concentration. the boy is a picture of perfect submission since the moment
taehyung entered him, pliant under his touch and boneless on the unmade bed.
"coming," the boy moans as he comes first, scream soundless as white spurts all
over his stomach and taehyung's fist. taehyung's thrusts become more erratic
after that, the previously established rhythm lost as he bites into the other's
shoulder, spilling hot inside him.
taehyung pulls out to the boy's displeasure, and uses the last of his energy to
get up and take a good look at the other—a hand reaches out to pull the
younger's face for another kiss, but taehyung's thumb smudges his eyeliner, and
something nearly clicks in taehyung's brain.
"wait," taehyung pants, "i think i know you." he wants to hear a confirmation,
but the guy is already asleep underneath him, the sheer force of his orgasm
teemed with alcohol draining him completely. the rise and fall of his chest
lulls taehyung to sleep as well, and so he flops back on top of the other,
feeling his consciousness leaving him with the pleasant afterglow of sex. the
question moves away to the back of his mind, until the boy speaks up.
"sure you do," he hears the other whisper right before sleep wholly takes him
away, "mr. cilantro."
                                      ***
taehyung wakes up with a dull ache at the back of his head, with not-quite-
there nausea somewhat triggered by the muffled sound of vomiting coming from
the adjacent bathroom. his hand reaches out to feel the bed blindly in search
of his phone, and when he finds it, it turns on to a picture of him, having
coffee with yoongi and namjoon in the café by the main campus building. the
picture was taken from the outside, taehyung's face in focus, yet its edges
blurry from being behind glass.
another loud, gross retch echoes out from the bathroom door, and taehyung
remembers last night—the boy in the maroon sweater, him being tipsy enough to
make stupid decisions but not drunk enough to forget, and oh god—
the boy had called him mr. cilantro.
taehyung is definitely not comfortable with the idea of some stranger stalking
him while making satirical online articles about his scientific endeavors, no
matter how hot the guy is. so the moment he hears the bathroom door's lock
click open, he makes a mad dash towards it, the stranger's phone in hand.
the guy yelps in shock upon opening the door to taehyung's displeased face—he
at least has his sweater on, in contrast to taehyung being stark naked still.
"oh my god, you scared me."
"you," taehyung whispers, tone dangerously low as he shoves the phone into the
other's face. "what is the meaning of this?"
the boy barely had time to respond before taehyung launches another question at
him, "did you write the big hit press articles? you're the admin, aren't you?"
taehyung has underestimated the boy's strength—now that he's sober, the guy
shoved taehyung out of his way as if he's a piece of cardboard. he makes a
beeline towards his pants, still discarded by the bed, but ends up tripping
over his own feet and falling hard onto the floor.
not a pretty sight, taehyung thinks while rubbing his possibly bruised arm. the
boy groans in pain, mumbling something about his ass hurting like hell before
getting back up on his feet with slight difficulty. due to the fact that
taehyung was the one who did the fucking last night, he feels just the smallest
bit of guilt, the impulse to help the guy out strong in his mind.
but making fun of his experimental techniques is a no-no. taehyung gives
himself a figurative slap to the head, reminding himself to not get soft on the
boy just because he's two years younger, probably a freshie, and has a limp now
because taehyung had fucked him probably a bit rougher than necessary.
the boy doesn't give up his dignity despite its being in pieces, shimmying back
into his tight pants as if last night didn't happen and running a hand through
his hair to push it away from his face. taehyung finds it a little cute, how
he's trying so hard to maintain his composure. if taehyung were to be in his
position, he'd cry and beg for the phone to be given back to him.
"let's talk about this over some coffee," taehyung gives in at last, pacing to
where the boy is to pick up his own underwear and jeans. "my treat."
                                      ***
"wait, so he actually liked yoongi, then he made these articles copying
yoongi's writing style hoping to get his attention?" jimin asks incredulously.
"yeah, looked through yoongi's old blogs and everything," taehyung replies,
sorting out his basket of neglected laundry.
"what kind of twisted way of getting someone's attention is that?"
"a cute and productive one, i'd say," taehyung stops his task to answer his
buzzing phone. "oh look, he texted me."
"is he not in the language department?"
"uh, does double major for journalism—his main is programming."
"so while getting material for his blog, he falls in love with you?"
taehyung's tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth, thumbs flying across
the screen of his phone as he texts back his new boyfriend. "not love—more of
thirst." he pauses there to give jimin a smug smirk, "i'm apparently super
hot."
"gross," jimin blanches, "and you fucked him last night?"
"would be fucking him right now if it weren't for the fact that assignments
exist."
"again, gross."
taehyung is suddenly up on his feet, basket of laundry forgotten as he gathers
his coat. "where are you going?" jimin asks, only to be answered with a
blinding smile from his friend.
"study date," taehyung replies, already at the doorway, shoes perfectly laced
up. "guess i might get some after all."
"get out of my house, you dirty dog."
                                      ***
"hyung, please, let me pay this time—you already paid in the morning."
"jeonggukie," taehyung croons, one hand poking at the other's cheek. "you
bought me cola that one time from the vending machine, so let me pay for you
forever."
"but i wrote an article about you being a broke ass student, even posted that
stupid photo of you humping the vending machine."
taehyung's nose scrunches up at the memory, and he retracts his hand to fold
his arms against his chest. "yeah, you were stupid for doing that. i want a
macchiato."
"i told you i'm sorry! it was hard approaching you when we have no mutual
friends and you're a senior—"
jeongguk's lips are pinched shut by taehyung's thumb and index finger, making
them look like duck lips when paired with his eyes bugging out in surprise. it
quickly turns into a look of extreme judgment, however, as taehyung resumes his
pseudo-complimenting of his new boyfriend, "so pretty, yet so stupid. why are
you so cute? you could've just talked to me."
taehyung removes his fingers from jeongguk's lips, only to replace them with
his own as they kiss briefly—jeongguk is a shy kid and taehyung is a sucker for
public displays of affection.
"well, we're talking now," taehyung says, saccharine sweet as he links his
fingers with jeongguk's on the table, "and i'm pretty sure we'll be talking a
lot more from here on."
                                      ***
Is This the End for Public Decency? In-campus Public Displays of Affection on
the Rise
Picture credit: BigHitPress
Just last Friday, students Kim Taehyung (left) and Jeon Jeongguk (right) were
caught necking by the staircase next to the main biology laboratories. Despite
their respective reputations of being heterosexual and lack of connections
between one and the other, both have come out as a couple, as reported by Park
Jimin and Min Yoongi, the campus's MiniMini Legendary CC (Campus Couple).
"I couldn't believe it at first," Park Jimin had said during his impromptu
interview, "he told me he f**ked someone. Taehyung isn't the kind of person who
f**ks, he gets f**ked."
Min Yoongi cannot be reached for comments.
"jeongguk, stop working on that article."
"but tae, i think this is a great step for my blog—"
"publish that and i will withhold sex for three months."
"you don't mean that."
"… okay, one."
                                      ***
***** compass (louis the child remix) - zella day *****
Chapter Summary
     "What if I tell you that I've planned a wedding ceremony for us in
     say, forty-five hours?"
     Taehyung and Jeongguk get hitched. It's horrible.
Chapter Notes
     i forgot to lapslock. oH NO AESTHEITC BREAKDOWNENWNDND
     for vivi bc shes cute but also a lil shit I LOV U VIVVVVVV
     <333333333333
     also i got emo watching youtubers get married sue me :'))))
"Tae."
Taehyung turns to smile at Jeongguk, sunglasses pushed far down his nose as the
airplane guide is still half-read in his hands. "Yeah, babe?"
Jeongguk gulps audibly, eyes darting back and forth between Taehyung and the
seatbelt sign, which is still off. "What if, um."
"What if what?" Taehyung's reply is immediately followed by the plane's take-
off announcement, and Jeongguk fiddles with his seatbelt's buckle. His fingers
slip on the warming metal as he tries to break down the news. The plane starts
humming louder and louder, and Jeongguk feels the seat vibrate, feels the
flight's inevitability and should the plane crash in the middle of the Bermuda
Triangle, he would welcome it because that would be his only saving grace from
Taehyung's possible wrath.
"What if I tell you that I've planned a wedding ceremony for us in say, forty-
five hours?"
The plane takes off, and Taehyung's "What" is loud enough to wake the old man
seated across him.
"I've already brought along our suits! Also, everyone knows and they're already
there. Sort of."
As if waiting for his cue, Hoseok's fingers peek out from the gap between their
seats, wiggling as he squeals "Hi!" loud enough to rival Taehyung's screech
earlier.
Jeongguk is given the silent treatment for the entire evening.
                                      ***
"Tae, I'm so sorry, I wanted to surprise you and it's a private ceremony! Just
like you've always wanted." Jeongguk orbits around a still-grumpy Taehyung,
back cricking whenever he turns his torso around from a night on the villa's
lumpy couch. "Look, you love surprises."
"But Jeongguk, this is our wedding ceremony," Taehyung sighs, exasperated as he
throws in one too many sugar cubes into his coffee. "And besides, we already
signed the papers, I didn't know we were gonna have a goddamned ceremony in
fucking Jeju of all places!"
"Okay, how about this—I do all the planning, you won't even have to lift a
finger."
At Jeongguk's suggestion, Taehyung gives him the most disappointed frown,
cheeks puffed out from the coffee still in his mouth. A drip makes its way down
his chin as Taehyung swallows too fast for Jeongguk's liking and yells, "That
is my wedding you're talking about, you ass, none of your weird monochrome shit
is touching my beautiful wedding."
                                      ***
After two whole hours of straight-up apologizing and treating Taehyung to the
best jjigae house Jeju has to offer, the older finally softens and tugs
Jeongguk back to their little villa. Jeongguk plops down onto the floor by the
coffee table while Taehyung looks for some pen and paper.
"I guess I'm sorry too," he apologizes upon his return, the villa's memo pad
and a pencil in hand. "Let's plan this out instead of sulking, yeah?"
Jeongguk breaks out into a huge, wide grin, and Taehyung gets infected,
laughing alongside his husband (but on paper only). They end up writing down
endless lists and working out logistics till the wee hours of morning with the
aid of complimentary mugs of coffee. By the time they're done planning out
their next day, it's already three in the morning—thirteen hours left until the
ceremony.
"You're a jerk for doing this to me," Taehyung mumbles, voice muffled by the
pillow he's thrown his face into. "If you wake me up any later than nine, I
will divorce you."
"Love you too, babe," Jeongguk drawls, kissing Taehyung's nape before
collapsing on his side of the bed.
                                      ***
Taehyung wakes up to Jeongguk's warm embrace and kisses along his neck. He
turns to lie on his back, Jeongguk moaning in displeasure when Taehyung is no
longer in his arms. "Cockblock."
"Save it for later tonight, ya horny brat."
Their phone alarms go off at fifteen minutes past nine, and they practically
jump out of bed to a flurry of clothes and too much cologne before setting out
to get the wedding ready. Taehyung feels touched to near tears when he
encounters Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok in the villa's backyard, arranging the
chairs and getting the tables ready.
"Babe, what did you do to them," Taehyung sniffles exaggeratedly, "these aren't
the friends I know."
"Nothing, Tae, they're just our best friends," Jeongguk says whilst smiling
wistfully, but it turns into an ugly chortle as he snorts and gives up, "I
promised them McDonald's for the wedding."
"Wait, so when you put off telling me the restaurant name last night—"
"Yes, I didn't want you to know it is gonna be McDonald's, I'm so sorry."
Taehyung nods his head solemnly, giving Jeongguk a wicked glare. "Everyone's
getting a McChicken with no mayo. Including you."
Jeongguk averts his gaze from Taehyung's eyes as they walk over to the
neighboring villa, which is for their parents. Jeongguk's mother is caught
being out in the front yard doing something akin to aerobics—
"I think it's Tai Chi," Jeongguk answers hesitantly, and Taehyung shrugs before
jogging up to his mother-in-law, all smiles.
"Ma!" he calls out in glee, and she responds likewise as he crashes into her
small body. "Do you know what today is?"
"Of course I do, it's the day the Jeon family expands and take over yours, you
lil' sunshine."
Taehyung's brows scrunch up in confusion, and he gives Jeongguk a pointed look.
Jeon Taehyung?
"I, uh, didn't tell her I took on your name instead," he says sheepishly, a
weak grin in place to somewhat defend him when he sees Taehyung's smile turn
sardonic behind his mother's back.
Taehyung hisses, "You're getting a salad for dinner, Kim Jeongguk."
                                      ***
"Good morning, welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you?"
Taehyung rolls down the windshield and leans out of the car slightly as he
reads the note he and Jeongguk made last night. "Uh, gimme… twenty-eight
servings of Big Macs, four chicken snack packs, and um…twenty-eight servings of
churros. All three dipping sauces, please. Oh, make those twenty-eight Big Macs
meals, diet Coke for each one. Upsize the fries. Seaweed shaker as well,
please."
"…can you come into the store? Our manager wants to talk to you."
Jeongguk gets out of the car in a flash, because when it comes to looking like
an Angry City Boy, he wins. Taehyung says "Okay" to the drive thru employee
before finding himself a nice parking spot near the entrance. Jeongguk gets out
approximately fifteen minutes after with a huge smile on his face and a receipt
that goes all the way to his feet.
"They're throwing in a free delivery to the villa," he says getting into the
car, and Taehyung hi-fives him.
"That's my boy."
"Oh yea, Seokjin-hyung called and said the flowers have arrived. And I know
that you love your flowers—"
"—precise, immaculate, like the garden in Barbie's Nutcracker movie," Taehyung
finishes in a drawl. "You know me so well, Kook." He starts the engine back up,
and they skitter around the speed limit back to the villa. "Come on, we have a
hyung to exasperate."
                                      ***
"Alright, I feel like a teacher," Jeongguk comments while looking out from atop
the balcony to do a quick headcount of their guests. "Okay, we've checked for
our families this morning, and I see Mark and Jackson over there at the common
bar."
"Namjoon and Jin-hyung are surfing with Hoseok for a bit," Taehyung supplies
while sipping on his iced tea. "Bambam and Yugyeom texted me—they're on their
way back here. I'm waiting for Youngjae to reply."
"Okay, that leaves Jinyoung and Jaebum-hyung," Jeongguk hurriedly texts them.
"Sujeongie is with Bogum-hyung and Jiminie," Taehyung says, phone out as he
scrolls through his messages. "Jieun-noona is here too, along with Irene."
"Yerim? Wendy?"
"They're waiting for the food to be delivered."
"Why do I feel as if we're missing one person?"
Right at that moment, Jimin shouts from below, "I can't find Yoongi-hyung!"
Taehyung chokes on his drink when Jeongguk screeches "What" at the top of his
lungs. They turn to look at each other, Jeongguk looking like he's near tears
while Taehyung's eyes are actually watering up from choking on iced tea.
The time is five minutes to two—only one hour and fifty-five minutes left until
the ceremony and Yoongi is nowhere to be found.
                                      ***
It is fifteen minutes past three, and Taehyung barges into Jeongguk's dressing
room, bowtie half done while he waves his phone around in glee. "Jimin got a
call from some blocked number—Yoongi-hyung just ran out of credit on his phone.
He's rushing back here."
Jeongguk wants to crumble and faint in relief, but his pants are freshly
pressed and his mother will never let him hear the end of it should he appear
less than perfect in his own wedding. "Oh my god, okay, amen."
"Alright, I will just finish up my tux in a second." Taehyung leaves the
dressing room, and Jeongguk buttons the last couple of cufflinks before
rummaging around the room for his makeup bag.
"Baaaabe, I come forth bearing the holy hairspray and gel!" Taehyung singsongs
as he barges into the room once more, dressed up neat and nice with the
exception of a slightly crooked bowtie. Jeongguk laughs at the lopsided
butterfly tie, and redoes it for his husband (almost a full-fledged husband,
almost).
"There you go," he says, giving Taehyung's cheek a pat before returning to his
makeup bag to procure a concealer.
"Isn't it too rushed to do makeup?" Taehyung asks, idly going through
Jeongguk's kit and testing out an eyeliner on his left palm.
"I will not look less than perfect, Tae, not on my wedding day." Jeongguk's
fingers are deft, blending the concealer out immaculately as he always does
every day before stepping out of the house. Taehyung has always been too lazy
for makeup, only wearing it when Jeongguk applies it for him. But for the
younger, it has become less of a hobby and more of a daily necessity. 
"Jeongguk?"
His other half side-eyes him in acknowledgement, the other side of his face not
done yet. "Yeah?"
"You're beautiful," Taehyung states as-a-matter-of-factly, gaze soft as he
watches Jeongguk's blemishes disappear one by one from where he's seated on the
bed. "Just wanted you to know."
Jeongguk turns away from the mirror to properly address Taehyung, and his face
is now clean, skin evenly toned and brighter. "It's ninety percent makeup, but
thanks, babe." He strides over to the bed where the makeup bag is, and gets his
brow pencil. "Chapstick is in your bag, by the way."
Psychic, Taehyung thinks, but he finally finds the chapstick he's been looking
for, and proceeds to smear it liberally all over his lips. "You know I mean it
when I say stuff like that." A faint peppermint flavor sneaks to the tip of his
tongue when he speaks, and he gets up to stand right behind Jeongguk, blowing
air at his ears.
"What?" Jeongguk laughs, turning around to get his lips assaulted by icy cold
mint. Taehyung moves languidly, hands roaming up Jeongguk's sleeved arms to
play with the ends of his hair while the other's fingers latch onto Taehyung's
neck. Taehyung tastes peppermint and the powdery tint of concealer, a tad bit
bitter on his tongue, but he doesn't mind it when he feels Jeongguk's teeth
pull on his bottom lip.
"And who told me to wait till later tonight just this morning?" Jeongguk smirks
smugly once they part, a hitch in his breath as Taehyung's hands slide past his
jawline.
"Well," Taehyung shrugs in defeat, "you look good with dark brows."
Jeongguk huffs and walks away from Taehyung to plop down on the bed, putting
his brow pencil back into the bag before zipping it up. He then stays
completely still for a few seconds, beckoning Taehyung's concern slightly.
"Kook, you okay?" he asks before sitting down next to his husband (in only half
an hour now).
"Yeah, just," Taehyung hears the younger's voice warble, and his hands are
ready to catch the first teardrop when he hears a sniffle next. "Can't believe
it, that's all."
"Aw, are you actually crying, Kookie?" he coddles, and Jeongguk snaps in
defiance, wet tracks running down his face. "You're the one who planned a
wedding. I just wanted to take everyone out for a trip."
"Oh my god, shut up," Jeongguk manages to chuckle despite the thick lump stuck
in his throat. "I will make you eat the ugliest Mac later, just you watch."
Taehyung laughs hard at that, eyes pushed to crescents as all his teeth are
shown, the bottom ones slightly crooked. He brings Jeongguk's head closer to
rest against his forehead, and he can feel it every time the younger's
shoulders quake.
"I would gladly eat the ugliest Mac with bland, non-upsized fries and flat Coke
if it means you're happy," Taehyung whispers to the other, and Jeongguk's hand
goes up to pinch his cheek. "Ow, you menace!"
"I love you, Tae," Jeongguk says, leaning in to smile against Taehyung's lips.
Taehyung grins back, thumbs wiping away Jeongguk's tear tracks as his words
form sloppily to the skin at the corner of Jeongguk's mouth.
"Love you too."
                                      ***
"Uh, this feels gross."
"Well it's not my fault you can't decide where you want your fringe to go!"
Taehyung and Jeongguk walk out of their villa to the backyard where everyone
has been seated for the ceremony, hands clasped together because they've talked
about this since their days in college ("None of that conventional shit,
Tae—because it'll be enough of a hassle to decide on our last names, I don't
want us arguing over who has to be given away by his father.").
"Kookie, my bangs are straight, and they still have no idea where the fuck to
go."
"Well, youaren't, and you're still as lost."
They've stripped down to only their dress shirts, vest, and bowtie, the weather
being too warm for a complete tuxedo. Jeongguk somewhat regrets that he made
this to be a summer wedding as he feels the beads of sweat seeping into his
collar.
"Did we hire a minister?" Taehyung asks suddenly, and Jeongguk wants to kill
himself.
"Why am I like this," he wails piteously, bemoaning the fate of having to do
his wedding vows with his dad, or worse, Taehyung's grandma, as the minister.
The irritation fades away once he hears Namjoon squawking out their arrival,
however, followed by a horribly off-pitch rendition of the Wedding March as
their eyes widen at the sight of Yoongi standing solemnly on the stage—his
daily planner is open as the Bible's substitute, robes replaced by an oversized
black hoodie draped over his shoulders. Jeongguk and Taehyung giggle at the
absurd spectacle their hyung makes, jogging excitedly up onto the stage.
"About time, you hooligans," Yoongi mutters under his breath before clearing
his throat twice. "Friends and family of Jeon Jeongguk and Kim Taehyung,
welcome and thank you for being here on this important day."
The audience of barely thirty people immediately quieten down, and Jeongguk
can't help but feel overwhelmed at the presence of all his closest friends
together with his family, seated next to each other in a big semi-circle before
the stage, with his and Taehyung's seats being smackdab at the farthest end of
the ring, allowing them full frontal view of everything that's going on.
"We are gathered together to celebrate the uh, very special love between these
two," Yoongi continues, words somewhat jumbled up together in a drawl that is
very distinctly his, "by joining them in marriage.
"All of us need and desire to love and be loved, for some weird reason I can't
fathom, and the highest form of love, I would say, is being able to handle
someone farting in your face and still fuck that same person later on in the
day."
While the crowd erupts in laughter, Yoongi unfolds a piece of paper he's kept
in his pocket, which turns out to be his official certificate of ministry. "Now
I just got ordained like two hours ago, but let me assure you all that I'm the
man for this job."
He motions for Taehyung and Jeongguk to face each other and hold hands before
starting the vows. From the corner of his eye, Jeongguk can see his dad's eyes
getting glassy, while Taehyung's side of the family has started to cry with the
exception of his younger siblings, who are waiting for them to kiss with bated
breath. Jieun and Sujeong seem to share the same feelings, grinning widely at
the couple on stage. Namjoon is trying to keep his argument with Seokjin
lowkey, while Hoseok has his arms around both Jimin and Irene, the younger boy
clasping Wendy's hand. Yerim, Jinyoung, and Jaebum are ridiculously focused,
almost solemn as they endure Bambam and Yugyeom's bantering next to a barely-
awake Park Bogum. Youngjae stops fiddling around with his camera to pay
attention to what Yoongi is saying, while Mark and Jackson are recording the
entire process into tape.
Yoongi declares the vows with more gusto than he's ever had in his entire life,
"Do you, Kim Taehyung, take this man—this man who literally ate my manuscript
not once, but thrice—this man! Who is a living, breathing, walking Stussy's
advertisement; this—man—who threw out your shoujo manga collection just to make
room for his snacks?"
"Hey, the box wasn't labelled!" Jeongguk cries out in protest when Taehyung
gives him a pointed stare. He sighs in defeat, hands still intertwined with
Taehyung's as the older happily completes his vow, "Yes, I do."
Satisfied, Yoongi continues, "And do you, Jeon Jeongguk, take this man, who
would wake people up at random hours in the wee morning to cut up perfectly
good shirts into fashion—this very man, who will one day appear on your
doorstep with five kids and adoption letters! This! Man! Who once kicked your
balls so hard you actually went to the hospital!"
Taehyung hangs his head in embarrassment, and Jeongguk manages to stifle out
his part of the vow before laughing his poor head off, "I do."
"There you have it folks, they're mad and very much in love," Yoongi concludes,
throwing his hands up in the air. "By the power vested in me, I hereby
pronounce you, JeonTaehyung, and you, KimJeongguk, husband and husband. You
make now suck face." He smiles at the end of it all, clapping while stepping
away from the couple as they each take a step forward to kiss. While everyone's
clapping and cheering, Taehyung has decided to unbutton his vest and pop the
first two buttons of shirt open. Jeongguk follows suit, and Taehyung rips their
bowties off to throw them away into the audience in lieu of an actual flower
bouquet.
One lands on Seokjin's head, and Irene caught the other one, but Bogum's yell
is the loudest amongst all the guests present.
                                      ***
The ceremony ends early in the evening, while the celebration lasts till a few
minutes much too late past three in the morning. Taehyung and Jeongguk waited
until everyone has gone back to their rooms before clambering back to their
villa suite. They promptly collapse onto their bed, socks still on, sweat
making the formal wear cling unpleasantly on their now grimy skin.
"That was fun," Taehyung mumbles sleepily into the sheets, turning his head
slightly to face Jeongguk.
"I still think Jin-hyung's speech was the best," Jeongguk smiles lopsidedly.
"Can't believe he called our relationship incestuous."
"Oh, Jiminnie, though," Taehyung recounts, "he asked Yoongi-hyung to date him
and Wendy—even has the balls to look forward to New Year's money from us.
Commendable courage."
Jeongguk hums in contentment, before tapping Taehyung's cheek, "We got Hoseok
and Namjoon-hyung's performance recorded, right?"
"Ask Mark and Jackson, babe," Taehyung answers before yawning and reluctantly
getting up out of bed. Jeongguk trails after him, removing his makeup, then his
clothes to join Taehyung in a quick shower. They wash the styling gel out of
each other's hair, and by the time they're clothed in clean shirts and boxers,
Taehyung remembers the important step of every wedding ever.
"Jeongguk," he says in alarm, "we forgot to have sex on the night of our
wedding."
Jeongguk stares at his husband (very legitimately his now) disbelievingly, and
pays the older no heed as he waddles over to the bed, dismissing the fact that
his hair is still damp. Taehyung stands still in front of the bathroom, and
Jeongguk waves him over to lie down in bed.
"Maybe in the morning, babe," he nuzzles affectionately against Taehyung's neck
as the older joins him under the sheets. "We have all the time in the world."
"I guess," Taehyung sighs at the warmth he's enveloped in, the arms around his
torso more comfortable than even that wool John Lewis blanket he tried in the
store once.
"I don't want sleepy sex, Tae," Jeongguk explains, words jumbling together
against Taehyung's skin. "I want to wake up tomorrow morning and. I don't know.
Fall in love with you all over again or something."
"You're such a sap sometimes," Taehyung teases.
"I mean it, though," Jeongguk says, sincere as he lifts up his head to stare at
Taehyung earnestly. "Every morning, I will wake up. And whether I wake up in
your arms or some inn for business trips, I will fall in love with you all over
again, from step one till here. It may be a big fall, it may be a small trip.
Regardless, I—"
Taehyung shushes his husband (no longer on paper only) with a bruising kiss,
sloppy as he misses the other's lips and ends up smooching just above his upper
lip. "I love you," he breathes once they part.
Jeongguk gives the other a small laugh, loose and free as it rings straight
into Taehyung's heart.
"I love you too."
 
 
***** wailin' bells - andru *****
Chapter Summary
     the ugly get no love. the ugly can't be saved.
Chapter Notes
     warning: pls. this warning is to be taken Very Seriously
     this chapter contains explicit gore and i repeat GORE if u cant
     stomach that pls. pls turn away. right. now.....
     but if u like some blood idk read on lmao
     also. VERY CHOPPY AND UNEDITED
     hahahahhahahah......ah.a.h....a.h.ah.a.h.haaaaaa
"i'll fucking find out which faction you're from, and you're good as dead."
the threat hardly fazes jeongguk as he tightens the last knot on the broken
ankle, earning a pained groan from the man before him; shackled up and bound to
a rusty chair. the spare warehouse has only one window on its third floor, and
jeongguk had made sure to place the chair right where moonlight hits it the
most. pale blue makes the blood running down the side of the man's face violet;
a shimmery tint to it, something jeongguk finds to be an extreme waste of
beauty, squandered on the man's rather unattractive face.
"what are you gonna do to me now, you fucker?"
with both ankles broken, and his left fingers completely crushed, the man
hardly poses a threat to jeongguk. he's breathing heavily, harsh exhales
forming plumes of white in the frigid winter air as jeongguk gets up from the
ground he's kneeling on. his hands slowly cradle the man's rugged face, tilting
his chin up to properly meet his eyes—one of them has been punched in, lid
bruised to the point where it can no longer open.
"you're not gonna tell me who did it?" jeongguk asks conversationally, as if he
is talking about the weather while caressing a swollen cheek with his other
hand's knuckles. the man trembles beneath him, but manages to spit phlegm onto
jeongguk's favorite suede coat. he's still panting hard, and jeongguk feels the
pitter-patter of a frantic pulse underneath his fingertips, which press down
harder into the grimy skin. jeongguk can't help but beam at the man, his
features standing out in stark contrast against the dark. he leans in closer
and whispers right against the man's ear, "do you know what they did to him?"
a locked jackknife makes its way up to the man's swollen cheek from within
jeongguk's pocket, and he opens it right against the other's skin—the knife
slices sloppily, the wet sound of metal against flesh oddly loud amidst the
man's bloodcurdling screams, blade stopped by his cheekbone. it would've made a
good piece, jeongguk thinks, how the loud howl rips out of the man's throat in
gurgles, as if he's drowning (he did think of drowning the man, but it seemed
too kind—too pretty of a death for someone so unbefitting). it's a rather
catchy melody, complementing the man's jumbled-up heartbeat playing softly as
its background.
"taehyung loved music," jeongguk comments offhandedly, retracting the blood-
slicked knife, "he played the cello, the saxophone, and was learning the
piano—did you know that?"
the man says nothing, still warbling at the gaping wound across his cheek.
jeongguk chuckles at how quickly the flesh deflates where it was once puffy; he
pushes the sagging skin slightly, just a tiny bit, with his index finger, and
near-black rivulets flow from the fresh cut to coat his already mucky fingers.
jeongguk continues reminiscing, "he wanted to write a symphony, a full-fledged
concerto, even." a low honk echoes from the distance, signaling the last ship
to depart for the evening. the man's eyes widen instantly, previously defiant
face now weary, lines pulling the corners of his mouth down in what jeongguk
can only perceive as primal fear as whimpers stream out of chapped lips
uncontrollably. he has seen the exact same expression five times so far, right
here in the same room within the same warehouse by the same pier, on the same
rusty chair at the same time when the moon is at its brightest.
taehyung had loved the moon—he loved everything, really, but jeongguk had
caught the older staring off at the little rock one too many times, jaw slack
in a stupidly blissed expression as he took down notes on faint ledger lined
books.
                                      ***
"why the moon?" jeongguk asks as he plops down quietly to sit by taehyung's
side. the older beams, summer breeze combing through his fine hair which isn't
slicked up for once.
"the moon isn't as bright as the sun, but it's smarter that way," taehyung says
after giving the answer several seconds of thought. "things always seem
prettier under the moon because it knows what to show, what to hide. the sun
exposes too much." he then laughs, deeming his thoughts to be too poetic for
jeongguk's tastes; the younger agrees wholeheartedly, playfully nudging at
taehyung's arm.
"but when you love something, wouldn't it make sense to expose everything?"
jeongguk questions, gaze lingering upon the sheet music in taehyung's
hands—another composition. "wouldn't you want to love everything that something
has to offer?"
"there's no such love, jeongguk," taehyung shakes his head in dismay, "no
matter what people say, the ugly get no love." he faces jeongguk at this point,
and gives him a rueful smile. "that's why i love the moon better—hides all the
wicked inside of me."
"but i know all the wicked inside of you," jeongguk replies earnestly, reaching
out to place a hand against taehyung's warm cheek. "i love all of it, the good
and the bad. you know i do."
taehyung gently covers jeongguk's hand on his cheek, lowering it down to clasp
it within his larger palms. he smooths over every knuckle, carefully slotting
each of his fingers between jeongguk's. "you're never gonna listen to me, are
you?"
"i don't have to listen to know," jeongguk replies cheekily. taehyung scoffs,
but his laughter is hollow.
"you don't know, gukkie," he murmurs, "you really don't."
                                      ***
"your boss," the man finally speaks up, snapping jeongguk out of his momentary
reverie. there is uncontained mirth in his voice, slipping out along with his
blood. "he's the lowest of low—rotten scum, he is."
the knife sheathes itself in the man's meaty shoulder, a piercing cry masking
the sound it makes when the dulling blade slices skin and cuts through
gristle—ripping nerves and strands of muscle before it hits bone. jeongguk's
eyes glint dangerously in the dark, hand moved onto the man's thigh to
stabilize himself. "say that again," he dares, and the man grins through his
wheezing, head hung low. his shoulders quake from the sheer force of breathing
in and out, blood dribbling out of the new injury.
"your saint of a boss has murdered children, women, families," he rasps, voice
cracking in the last few syllables. "maybe yours too. did you know that?"
"no," jeongguk mutters, shushing the man with a finger as he clambers over to
sit on his lap. "shh, you don't know what you're saying anymore, so stop
talking, yeah?" his shaky hands pull out the knife along with pieces of red
flesh, and jeongguk jabs it into the man's lower abdomen just as fast, narrowly
missing his groin. bile spews out of the bleeding mouth to accompany more
screams, and jeongguk wonders if this is why taehyung's compositions have
always been in minor key, crescendos and fortissimos filling in the spaces
between each bar. the acrid stench of vomit fuels his anger, and jeongguk finds
himself stabbing the man's abdomen repeatedly—sticky, warm acid coats his
bloody hands, but it's alright. jeongguk can think of it as a nice pair of
gloves, so that his hands aren't really touching the man—no—it isn't him. it's
not his fault.
sometimes, taehyung would transpose the entire melody into a major key during
the song's bridge, and jeongguk has always loved those few songs more than the
others. the sliver of bright notes invigorating like the 12 p.m. sunshine
filtering into taehyung's study as jeongguk sang along to his newest sonatas.
when taehyung writes songs in the major key, they would be tinkling;
lighthearted and with a bouncy rhythm to it, which jeongguk unconsciously
follows as he counts the staccato beats of the man's labored gasps—he's going
into shock, and so jeongguk quickly stuffs his tie into the man's putrid mouth.
the red silk is soiled now, dribbles of saliva and bile coating its smooth
surface.
"i—i didn't—" the man stammers, stuttering to the point where his words become
incoherent blubbering out of sync with his frame, wracked by shudders as his
eyes tear up from terror. jeongguk feels warmth on his left thigh—the man has
pissed himself. "please—i didn't do it, i don't know who did it, please please
please—"
"shut up," jeongguk yells into the man's face, and ruthlessly brings his hand
down, slamming the blade right into the man's crotch. everything but his own
voice has turned into static, and jeongguk doesn't know if it's bile or tears
running down his cheeks. "shut up, shut up, shut up—"
jeongguk anchors himself on the man's shoulder and thighs, one hand bringing
the blade up to slice through the lower abdomen, and he feels the weight of
organs, of blood, of intestines and an empty stomach. what's in front of him is
no longer a human being, but a rabid animal—a being no longer capable of
thought, lips ripped from the force of screeching—wailing and howling for help,
but no help will come. his pupils have rolled back, exposing a cloudy white and
horribly purple veins. no help will be delivered to the ugly, this jeongguk
knows. no saving for the bad, the evil, the damned.
because if this man is an animal, he's a monster. it's not his fault, never was
his fault. because can you blame animals, the primitive, for doing what they
do?
he doesn't have the heart required to be considered in such a way. this, he
knows. this, taehyung knows.
the blade slice the layer of diaphragm, and the man has breathed his last
breath before jeongguk can saw through his ribs to procure his heart. his hand
halts with a jerk, forearm trembling from the exertion, and jeongguk is panting
against the man's still bleeding shoulder. it hurts to breathe, acid burning
the inside of his lungs as he inhales the piercing stench of foul blood mixed
with bile. the silk tie proves to be too smooth, as it slips out of the man's
gaping mouth with a chunk of muscle—his tongue.
                                      ***
"let me go with you," jeongguk pleads, and it's frustrating because taehyung
disregards the fact that jeongguk is already suited up, no hair astray with his
trusted pistol by his hip. "taehyung, i'm your right hand man for a reason."
"no," taehyung adamantly objects, "it's a small fight, i don't want you to get
involved any further than this."
jeongguk scoffs, "how many more times do we have to do this? my being there
will mean instant wipeout and less deaths on our part. stop resisting and just
let me follow you—i can take care of myself—"
jeongguk tries to shoulder past taehyung, but the older has always been
stronger than he's given credit for, shoving jeongguk back with only one arm.
nothing will get through taehyung the moment he grits his teeth like this,
jeongguk's bicep in a painful vice grip with the pressure of taehyung's nails
marking bruises into his bicep, despite the suit's fabric.
"i allowed a twelve-year-old to kill a man," he hisses, face barely an inch
away from jeongguk's. "you may be ten years older now, but even if you're
twenty, thirty, a million years older—nothing will get rid of my regret from
the moment i handed over that pistol to your tiny fucking hands."
jeongguk retorts instantly, "but you were about to—"
"i'd rather die," taehyung cuts him off. "i'd much rather die, on that day,
than having to see you pick up a gun."
                                      ***
jeongguk tries to calm himself down, evening out his frantic breaths as he
staggers back from the dead man's lap to fully take in his handiwork. a
disfigured face—eyes opened as wide as they can with one of them swollen, and
they're staring at jeongguk's feet. the cheek is no longer swollen, and the
bleeding has stopped flowing from the cut there, steadily trickling out of the
corner of his mouth instead, along with pale, vomit-mixed spit. the tangy smell
of copper hangs heavily in the cold air, emphasizing the stench of bile and
piss, yet jeongguk feels nothing but a sickening heat within his guts before he
promptly retches onto the grimy floors. when he looks up, hands on his bent
knees—he sees something; bound to a rusty chair, crudely opened as intestines
and chunks of unidentifiable organs spill out of the gaping, jagged wound
cutting vertically from its groin up to the chest.
in the moonlight, everything shines a shimmery, glittery violet, and jeongguk
only realizes just what he has done when his knees hit the soaked floor—warmth
seeping into the slacks and an overwhelming fetor of decay assaulting his sense
as he runs damp fingers through his hair. jeongguk takes in the sea of purple
beneath him, the pale layer of acid on his hand merging in with the shining
violet—
—he laughs. he laughs until he can't breathe, until his stomach cramps so much
that he heaves onto the floor again, tears stinging the corners of his eyes,
dampening his lashes; they serve to give his world a rather kaleidoscopic
effect, and jeongguk can't bring himself to wipe them away.
taehyung occasionally transposes to the major key during song bridges, but he
never forgets to bring them back to the minor key right at the last verse,
arpeggios and irregular staccatos meshing crassly with the deafening notes in
presto. final verses are always the most chaotic of his compositions, and
jeongguk clearly remembers how taehyung would finish playing each piece with a
glazed look over his eyes, manic.
despite liking the pieces in major, there is something about taehyung's labored
breathing against the black and white piano keys, his disheveled hair getting
in the way of his vision, yet he slowly turns to look at jeongguk anyway.
"the ugly cannot be saved," he would say, and jeongguk's reply would still be
the same.
"but you're beautiful."
                                      ***
"no, no—please, don't," jeongguk begs, but it's no use as the masked man
fastens the last clasp holding taehyung down on the makeshift gurney. there are
at least three burly men wrestling against him, slowly draining all of his
strength so that all jeongguk can do is watch taehyung get sawed in half from
beyond the glass wall.
it's horrible when taehyung doesn't rebel, doesn't resist or even try to fight
death in the slightest. he lays down on the gurney like it's his bed, as if he
belongs there every night, but taehyung can't lie to jeongguk. jeongguk knows.
jeongguk always knows.
jeongguk notices the trembling lips, the shaking of his toes. he knows of
taehyung's fear, knows that despite his constant awaiting of some twisted sort
of judgment, taehyung wishes that for once, he is beautiful.
                        ("i'm going to get punished for all this someday, guk."
                                                                    "punished?"
"yes, punished. i will finally get what i deserve—all the pain i've caused, the
                                                     suffering. i'm a monster."
                        "but you're not a monster. you're beautiful, like fae."
                              "aren't faes the ugliest of them all, jeongguk?")
"please let tae go, let him go, he didn't do anything wrong, please—"
"you don't wanna know what he did to our mother, boy," one of the men roughly
whispers into jeongguk's ear as he stabs a little dagger into the younger's
thigh. jeongguk lets out a hoarse yell, and feels his consciousness fade away
with every teardrop, every bit of blood seeping out of his body. "he deserves
this, and much worse."
"please—" jeongguk manages to choke out, but it spirals down, morphing itself
into a chopped up screech as he sees the saw slicing through taehyung's
sternum. the glass is supposed to be soundproof, but jeongguk can hear the
screams, the beastly howling tearing out of taehyung's mouth, which bleeds
profusely.
jeongguk faints instantly, only to find himself awake and horribly infected
within taehyung's study.
                                      ***
"jack the ripper just did a new one in last night," namjoon says, precariously
balancing a cup of boiling hot coffee in one hand while the other passes the
newspaper to his boss, seokjin. "fucking gruesome—cut the guy up from his chest
to the dick. police couldn't find his organs."
seokjin frowns at the censored article, and re-checks the time and location of
the incident. "the pier… that's dangerously close to our turf, isn't it?"
namjoon shrugs indifferently, "i don't know, i'm just your friendly information
broker." he takes in a sip of his coffee only to spit it out with a grimace,
wincing from his burnt tongue. "what say you about this, v? he's done in like,
six guys now? think you can handle a real monster?"
the man who goes by the name 'v' promptly stands up, two pistols holstered by
his hips as he throws the other two a reassuring smile. "you're talking to the
only monster here."
namjoon laughs at the remark, taking it as a bad joke before he saunters off
with his cup of spilling coffee. the door closes, followed by soft footsteps
fading away into the distance, and only then does seokjin speak.
"are you really capable of killing your old kin," he asks slowly, "kim
taehyung?"
v's grin doesn't waver as he stands poised by seokjin's desk, deliberately
taking away the other's cup of coffee to have an indulgent sip. "you've
mistaken me for someone else, sir."
for the ugly get no love; they are the bad, the evil, the damned.
the ugly can't be saved.
and yet deep down, taehyung remembers very clearly, he's beautiful.
 
 
***** gold pilot - first turn fold *****
Chapter Summary
     he chased after the wrong things, because perfection was too blinding
     for his eyes.
Chapter Notes
     lmao pls bear w me;;;; im High and Slightly Emo and i just needed
     some. warmup of sorts before starting up this epic chapter for ths
     sTUDPID SERIES FFFFFFFFFFFF
     enjoy as always; this is my fVORITE SONG OF ALL TIEMS IT IS MY MOST
     PLAYED TRACK IM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AntySY
train chasing.
futile. a waste of energy. a waste of time. meaningless. a public nuisance.
this is what people told him, but jeon jeongguk didn't quite care. there is
something about seeing the windows dance before his eyes, in some odd,
syncopated harmony with his labored breaths.
jeon jeongguk loved to chase trains. this, he knew since the very first time he
sent his mother off on a train ride to seoul from their home in busan; he tried
to get a final glimpse of her face, her hair blowing wildly in the wind a
second before she boarded the train. before the smile he came to love from the
day he was born disappeared for an entirety of two weeks on a treacherous
business trip, before the lace-trimmed dress he used to sneak out of his
mother's closet was gone, and he couldn't quietly take it to his bedroom for
quick afternoon naps anymore within the following fortnight.
it was supposed to be a sad thing, he supposed, because one can never know if
their beloved would return safe and sound from their journey; the locomotives
whooshing past in an extreme perspective, and in seconds, the grand transport
becomes nothing more than a blip in the distance. your loved ones are nothing
more than little dots compared to the full masterpiece that is the universe.
your loved ones are insignificant, and so are you.
so was jeon jeongguk.
but the gates were flashing, warning sirens given so that passengers could stay
away from the train doors as they closed; jeongguk could no longer see his
mother's hair blowing in the wind—it was still. her dress looked flat, lace
trims nearly invisible from the dirty train window. she turned around to give
him a last smile, and it was beautiful in the afternoon sunlight. she waved at
him, and he waved back. the train roared to life, and a squeak on the rails
started a series of screeches and wails of steel on steel. soon, the noises
found themselves a rhythm, and that rhythm carried all the way from the tracks
to the soles of jeongguk's feet, prompting him to run, run like hell.
he didn't know why he started running; stick-like legs tried their best to
carry his chubby torso all the way to the very front locomotive, and his cheeks
wobbled in tandem with the crazy drumbeat of his young heart. his mother wasn't
even looking at him anymore, yet he kept up, one leg before the other, knees
working into an overdrive.
the windows looked like the sprinters he saw on television, and the train's
stripes were the race tracks. another meter, and the windows looked like the
film of his father's old camera, while the stripes were strings within the
man's dark room.
another meter, and the windows looked like infinity—
—jeongguk skipped a step, and fell horribly flat on his nose—
another meter, and the windows finally looked like the grimy surfaces they
were—
—the final locomotive whooshed by before jeongguk could blink the light back
into his eyes, and without realizing the blood running down his nose all the
way to his chin to get sopped up by his shirt's collar, he stood up to laugh
helplessly.
                                      ***
you start from the very end, the final locomotive, where you can see where the
train ends.
 
jeongguk wishes he hadn't seen the end, the ugly, dirty, rusty end with unkempt
screws and bolts keeping the train's most likely non-functioning emergency exit
functional. but such is the end; illogical, and frustrating beyond belief.
 
and then you run. there are demons behind you; ghosts of long past and all the
bad that you've given out to this undeserving world catching up because all
they want is to eat you whole—
 
there was nothing behind his back except forhim,his rapture of a smile—too
bright, too dazzling as the wind forceshisfringe away fromhis forehead.he
laughs, and jeongguk found himself going faster, a light hand on the small of
his back, propelling him forwards because that was the only way they knew to
run towards.
 
but heed them not, because you can only look sideways. when one chases a train,
the eyes belong to the windows and stripes. nothing more, nothing less. the sky
is not the limit. the gates become one huge blur of white after the first
couple of meters.
 
jeongguk couldn't look athim for too long, never was able to. it was his own
weakness at fault, focusing on all the wrong things, and he blamed himself
entirely, unlike how his father would curse bad zooming lenses or someone
messing with his lighting setup. because there was nothing else to blame,
because he couldn't possibly blamehim. you can't blame perfection. when the
model is already perfect, it's the photographer's fault for not capturing
beauty when it stares at him straight in the eye.
in the soul.
the artists crumble to dust, because they believe they're the limit; jeongguk
realized too late that yes, indeed,
the sky is the limit.
the gates might've been a huge blur of white, but they made up the largest part
of the train montage, and he oversaw that.
it was entirely his fault.
 
the windows are everything and yet nothing all at once. get enraptured, get
synchronized. the drum of your heartbeat along with the train's deafening whirr
is what makes the platform alive—the vibrations of steel on rail tracks are
what gives your legs the energy they need to run faster, faster, faster.
stripes, be they red, blue, yellow—they'll all blur into one defining color of
white against the window's black frame. everything flashes by so fast your
quickened, harsh breaths sound like a dying man's final slumber.
 
jeongguk realized too late, again, that no two things can be synchronized. he
was foolish to think that merging of two bodies, two minds, two completely
different souls, was possible. it was not. he was raptured, captivated beyond
belief, and he was so scared of not being able to keep up withhim that he ran
too fast—the horrifying stark white became all he could see, because he forgot
to look sideways. everything flashed by too fast, but the dying man was behind
him all along.
and the dying man did not die in slumber, forhe died out of heartbreak; nothing
left tohis body save for a dry husk of loneliness, the vibrancy of life and joy
in living drained out ofhim through millions and millions of teardrops.
teardrops that jeongguk could've caught and gave back tohim, but jeongguk
forgot to look sideways. he was a train chaser, and he forgot to look sideways.
he forgot, and he was too late.
and he lost.
                                                      "jeongguk, i'm so sorry."
 
you will think of infinity. you will think of how everything can stretch
onwards to forever, how slow you actually are, the world actually is,
 
jeongguk did think of infinity. he thought he had forever. he thought he had
the privilege of running slow.
but jeongguk was only a human, and as all humans do, he squandered. he
disobeyed. he ran too much, ran too far. he was untouchable by the one who
needed to touch him the most.
the world was a whirlwind for him, and jeongguk never stopped to look at the
things that mattered.
he mattered.
"please don't leave me."
 
when universal time and space flicks you off to the side as the final
locomotive shows its emergency exits with ugly bolts on them.
                                                                               
"i'm not coming back, okay? i love you—and i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, guk, i love
                                                                          you—"
the doors closed, and jeongguk watched as the train's colors faded faster than
ever, as if in spite to outrun him for the first time. the gates didn't blur,
but the windows were no longer windows, they were a hall of faces; faces
taunting him because he left behind all his loved ones on that one journey, and
came back too late. realization was always a painful thing for him, and he
realized, again and again and again andagain, that on a train platform, the
chaser isn't the one to worry—it's the one who leaves who worries. when will
you come back home? why did you leave so soon? why couldn't you chase all the
way back to the last carriage and meet that one hand reaching out for you so
badly?
the train isn't the blip in the universe; you are.
jeongguk was.
jeongguk is.
 
and that's when you know, that you're capable of absolutely nothing—
 
what propelled his legs forward wasn't the hum of steel against rail tracks; it
was the raging panic within his feeble mind.
what made him look sideways wasn't perfection, but fragility; how
brokenhissincerest smile looked.
what made his heart thunder wasn't the speed nor the adrenaline; it was fear.
it was fear, and heartbreak, and so many things he left behind catching up to
him because they were the ghosts, they were never in the past, they were always
with him except he never cared to pay attention—
and when the final locomotive showed itself to replacehim, that's when jeongguk
stopped. the door said "authorized personnel only", and jeongguk didn't trip,
didn't bleed, didn't laugh.
it was a gut-wrenching sort of cry, an internal sort of bleeding, a crueler
sort of heartbreak as the shards stab his lungs and he could no longer breathe
properly.
the final locomotive was now indistinguishable from the rest, and jeongguk felt
the same himself—indistinguishable and dispensable, left a hollow vessel from
what was once a man. the wind was never truly wind, it was only sonic boom from
speed; his hair clung to his forehead, to the sides of his face, matted with
sweat and tears he didn't deserve to shed.
 
and that's okay.
 
it wasn't.
                                      ***
 
 
***** grand lux - tours *****
Chapter Summary
     it's a parisian afternoon; a ticking clock and the bustle of the city
     underneath them, punctuated by love.
Chapter Notes
     fuck me im so done w school hAVE FLUFF (smut)
     ilu vivi i hope this does u JUSTICE
     obvs unbetaed, unedited, and nsfw lmao
two years of eloping, and jeongguk still finds himself entranced.
when it comes to taehyung, even the brutally bright 2 p.m. sun softens,
incandescent rays caressing bronzed skin barely covered in one of jeongguk's
larger t-shirts. jeongguk fiddles around with his camera, trying to find the
perfect setting for this particular scene, parisian afternoon serving as his
backlight against almost beige walls and cream ceramic floors. taehyung basks
in the almost stifling warmth, sprawled across right where the sunlight hits
cool tiles, unfiltered. he had been persistent on splurging a little in paris,
insisting that they got a room on the higher floors and have no curtains.
way before they were husbands, before they were lovers, before they were even
friends, jeongguk distinctly remembers watching taehyung. more often than not
from the back, but there were glimpses, moments where taehyung meets his eyes
and return a discreet smile jeongguk's way.
it has always been as such for jeongguk; he watches taehyung. that's what he
does.
but he never proposed, for jeongguk never really found the guts to do so.
taehyung did, and jeongguk was sure since that day over two years ago, that
yes, taehyung watches him too.
so jeongguk lowers himself down, elbows on the sheets while his knees are still
folded. the camera is poised before his face, and his right eye focuses on
taehyung's figure on the floor; taehyung's eyes are closed, lashes creating
unnaturally long shadows across his cheeks as he stretches both arms over his
head—he faces away from the light slowly, and jeongguk quickly captures the
moment right before taehyung's entire front is engulfed in shadows, when the
bright sunlight hits his features in all the right places.
the loud shutter startles taehyung, who promptly blinks his eyes open and grins
at jeongguk. he mirrors jeongguk's position slightly, turning fully to lie on
his stomach, arms bent on the elbows while his bare feet swing to a rhythm
jeongguk can't quite figure out.
"like what you see?" he mumbles lazily, letting his head loll onto his
shoulder.
jeongguk takes another shot, right when taehyung's gaze lowers onto the floor.
"it's a beautiful sight," he chuckles, unperturbed. "wanna see?"
"mm, maybe later." taehyung dismisses jeongguk with a cock of his eyebrow, and
rolls onto his back once more, except he's closer to the bed now, swathed in
warm, sepia-toned shadows as he props his feet up on the edge of the bed.
jeongguk makes a face at taehyung's feet being right next to his camera, but
doesn't do much about it save pinch one of taehyung's toes. he breaks into a
smile upon hearing his husband's odd giggle, and kicks it up a notch by
tickling the soles of taehyung's feet.
breathless laughter, a ticking clock, and the bustle of the city underneath
them punctuated by the clicking of jeongguk's camera. such has been most of
their afternoons together for the past couple of years. jeongguk sometimes fear
they're getting too comfortable. his fingers cease their antics and taehyung
stops laughing.
"jeongguk?" taehyung asks, and jeongguk is amazed at how the older can still
slip in the barest bit of concern with his coy act.
"hm," jeongguk affirms; to what, he doesn't quite know. his hand trails down
taehyung's foot to caress the tanned skin of his shin, and the older's gaze
grows soft. "just love you."
taehyung hikes his legs higher up, while jeongguk puts his camera away and lets
his hands trail lower, past roughed up knees to smooth thighs. before taehyung
can lift himself up, jeongguk has hopped off the bed to pin taehyung down by
his wrists on the warm floors. harsh sunlight hits him square in the face, and
jeongguk squints to taehyung's amusement.
"there's a perfectly good bed not even a foot away from us," taehyung snarks,
but it doesn't come through as a biting remark from how breathless he gets in
the end, when jeongguk lowers himself down to sigh against taehyung's neck.
"maybe i'm too tired to call room service for extra sheets," he murmurs, and
every syllable sends shivers down taehyung's spine.
"you're a dork," taehyung means to laugh, but all that comes out of his mouth
is a slight whisper, barely making it out as a sentence before it gets
swallowed by jeongguk's mouth, having trailed all the way up from taehyung's
nape to trace his jaw and touch lips. "i love you," taehyung manages to say
before jeongguk's kiss silences him again.
jeongguk is halfway through stripping his shirt off taehyung's torso when he
remembers his camera. "just a sec," he quips, leaving taehyung to shiver as his
bare back hits the tiles. the sudden cold causes taehyung to sneeze, and
jeongguk seizes the opportunity to snap a quick shot of taehyung's candid face,
much to the older's disgruntlement.
"some husband you are," taehyung complains nasally as he crawls away from
jeongguk to procure tissues.
jeongguk chuckles softly at taehyung's constant pout as he blew his nose. he
gets back up on his feet, dslr secured with its strap over his neck as he
tiptoes to hold taehyung from the back. "sorry," jeongguk says cheekily, arms
loosely circled around the other's waist. "let me make it up to you."
with that said, he continues to plant kiss after kiss down taehyung's nape,
following where his spine would lead to. the chaste kisses turn heated as
jeongguk trails his tongue over the crook of taehyung's neck, earning him a
sigh from the older as his shoulders relax. jeongguk's hands hike the shirt up
higher, its hem going past taehyung's stomach now, and taehyung doesn't need to
be told to raise his arms.
a ticking clock and the bustle of the city underneath them, followed by the
rustle of a shirt thrown to some corner of the room as jeongguk grinds against
taehyung's bare bottom, one hand turning his husband's head around because he
can't think of anything beyond kissing taehyung, tasting taehyung, breathing,
drowning in taehyung. jeongguk has never known a feeling greater than that of
taehyung's heart racing underneath his fingertips.
in a matter of seconds, jeongguk finds himself sprawled on the floor, camera
gratefully intact as taehyung keeps a steady grip on it while pushing him down.
the sunlight hits him again, but jeongguk's eyes are closed as taehyung leans
down to suck on the flesh of his shoulders, leaving a path of purple and red
blossoming down to jeongguk's chest. the tiles are heating up, and jeongguk
feels beads of sweat form on the small of his back. he yanks his tank top off,
being mindful of his camera, and taehyung swipes the small bottle of lube right
next to the tissues before making quick work of jeongguk's pants.
he stops short when removing the bottle cap, gasping as he turns the camera
back on. jeongguk's eyes open slightly to the shutter clicks, realizing that
taehyung has been snapping pictures of him shirtless. "i'm not printing those,
mind you."
"you need more diversity in your portfolio, babe," taehyung exclaims. "self-
portraits are pretty artistic, don't you think?"
jeongguk doesn't fight back, lets taehyung do as he pleases for the next minute
or so until he grows impatient from his own needs. true enough, taehyung sets
the camera back down next to jeongguk's head, and his hands roam frantically
all over jeongguk's torso before settling on his hips. their lips are knit
together—hardly any space left in between their bodies, until jeongguk breaks
the kiss first to let out a loud moan as taehyung grinds down on him hard.
"tae, please," jeongguk begs, and taehyung can't do much but comply, drizzling
a generous amount of lube over his shaky palms. jeongguk removes his boxers,
and takes taehyung's hand in his to touch his cock. it's a haze, between the
blinding heat as the sun grows larger in the afternoon sky, between taehyung's
thighs and his thundering heartbeat against jeongguk's own; but jeongguk
manages to scoop up the lube which had dripped all over his stomach, and coats
his fingers with it. slowly, he lets one finger into taehyung, relishing in the
delightful groan it coaxes out of the other. jeongguk lets another finger in,
and keeps pumping them in and out of taehyung at a steady pace, eyes never
leaving his husband's face, contorted in pleasure. "is it okay now?" he asks.
taehyung nods wordlessly, flicking his wrist around jeongguk's cock a couple
more times before he settles himself over it. the seconds tick by like a
countdown, and taehyung slowly sinks himself down, burying his face into the
crook of jeongguk's neck to stifle his moan. jeongguk can't process anything
anymore—all thoughts have fizzled into vapor as they've been taken over by a
pleasure so blinding it almost hurts.
"wait," he grits out, and pulls taehyung by the hair off of him, camera at the
ready once more. taehyung's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and
glistening as he had been chewing on them to keep quiet. jeongguk steadies the
dslr on one hand, and brings the other up to run his thumb across taehyung's
lower lip. the shutter clicks, and taehyung snatches the camera away from
jeongguk's hold, gripping it tightly for himself as he rocks himself on
jeongguk's cock slowly. jeongguk throws his head back, a soundless cry coming
out of his mouth as his arms fall, fingers digging into taehyung's hips for
dear life.
barely-hushed moans and muffling kisses, a ticking clock, and the bustle of the
city underneath them punctuated by the slapping of skin on skin as jeongguk
keeps up with taehyung's pace, rocking to the other's rhythm he's taken years
to learn. now, it's off the top of his head, and he can let go with taehyung,
bring his arms around the other's waist to pull him flushed against jeongguk
because no, there should never be a distance between them, not when it has been
so long, not when the ever-present fear of this perfection getting robbed away
from him haunts jeongguk every night when he sleeps.
"hey," taehyung calls out, thumb wiping jeongguk's cheek, and only then does he
realize that he's crying. taehyung slows down considerably, and smiles before
kissing jeongguk—no tongue or teeth, just his lips on taehyung's. "i got you,"
taehyung whispers, and resumes to fuck himself on jeongguk's cock; slower than
before, but deeper, and his lips never leave jeongguk's.
two years of eloping, and jeongguk still finds himself entranced. it's been
difficult for the both of them, for him, and there are days when taehyung's
fingers feel like sand slipping through his own.
jeongguk grips taehyung's shoulders tightly, and flips them over; his legs
spreading taehyung's thighs further apart as he fucks the other senseless.
today isn't such a day, jeongguk decides, not when taehyung feels so solid, so
real underneath him.
"i love you," taehyung chokes out before the force of orgasm wracks his entire
frame, clenching down hard and taking jeongguk along with him into oblivion,
guided back into reality by the sunspots on heated skin as the sun starts to
move westward, foliage filtering its rays causing jeongguk's vision to become
tinted green. taehyung's chest rises up and down in time with the tree branches
outside, his labored breaths like a warm breeze to jeongguk.
"yeah," jeongguk rasps, too tired to do much more than sweep hair off
taehyung's sweat-matted forehead. "i love you too."
 
 
***** crowd surf off a cliff - emily haines & the soft skeleton *****
Chapter Summary
     if you find me, hide me, i don't know where i've been.
Chapter Notes
     guys......................... dont read
     this............................................................
     tw for suicide and sad in general bc im sad too
"good luck with the entrance exam. you're gonna kill it."
"you betcha."
a quick peck on the cheek, and taehyung would turn on his heel, walk his side
of the street. "see you, babe!" he'd call out, tilting his head impossibly far,
and jeongguk would smile out of reflex.
"walk far away from the main road!" jeongguk would shout in warning. "it's
really icy these days!"
and taehyung would dismiss with a callous wave of his hand.
"i love you!" jeongguk would shout again without caring about the people, of
the other passersby who would look at him funny, who would whip out their
phones and start recording, expecting a scene. "i love you a lot!"
and taehyung would be caught off-guard, face blank as he processes the public
confession, because jeongguk would never do such a thing, would never be so
vocal.
"i love you too!" he would yell back, unstable and cracking in the end before
he breaks into a sprint. jeongguk used to try to catch him, but taehyung
outruns him every time, and frankly, he's tired.
he plans to try out the phone strategy once more this time around, counting the
seconds in his head for the next two minutes and three seconds, because that's
when taehyung would be a few feet away from the four-way he has to cross to get
to the examination hall, and that's when jeongguk has to make the call, stop
taehyung in his tracks.
"guk, what's up?" the reply would come, out of breath and just the slightest
bit annoyed.
"don't run when crossing the street."
"fucking psychic."
"i mean it. don't. i love you."
taehyung would laugh, and the other side of the line is always so deafeningly
loud, and jeongguk can't ever tell if taehyung has stopped or not. he would be
able to if he runs after the other, but jeongguk has learned his lesson after
the first few times not to, at least for his own sanity. and that is, if he
even has any left.
it's hard to keep track of anything these days.
"you're weird today, y'know that?" three.
"taehyung, please stop walking. come back here." two.
"i'm fucking late to my exam, call me later." one.
"no, listen—" zero.
a screech; static that used to deafen jeongguk now just white noise to his
ears. clattering, crashes, thumps and bangs and screams. someone yelling for
the ambulance.
rewind.
                                      ***
"i'll pay for the refund."
"you won't, and even if you do, i'll have to register for the next exam which
is in six months. it'd be too late then."
jeongguk is still in his bed, head in his hands while taehyung putters about
the room, gathering his notes and putting on socks at the same time.
"what's gonna make you change your mind?" jeongguk asks, exasperated.
"nothing, what's gonna change yours?"
"just stay in for me this one day, please."
his voice is cracking and there are ugly tears running down his face, but
jeongguk doesn't care. he has to get taehyung to stay, he has to. if cutting
open his chest to let taehyung see his rotting heart like this is the only way,
so be it.
but taehyung doesn't stay.
"look," he whispers, low and leveled as he sits on the edge of the bed, right
next to jeongguk. "the exam is only a couple of hours, and the hall is a
fifteen-minute bus ride away from here." a peck on jeongguk's forehead, on both
his cheeks, and a soft press on the lips—solid and warm. it just makes jeongguk
sob harder. "i'll be back before you know it, babe."
the door closes, quiet, and jeongguk lies on his back; the ceiling spins,
sunlight fragmented from the tears caught in between his lashes, more tears
running down his temples to trickle down his ear, soak the sheets beneath. he's
not sobbing anymore, there's no point, and in his right hand is a phone.
jeongguk counts the seconds.
                                      ***
"jeon jeongguk?"
"yes?"
"hello, do you know a kim taehyung?"
"yes, i do."
"he's gotten involved in an accident and—we need you to confirm a few things
for us."
"...i'll be down in twenty."
"thank you very much."
                                      ***
"good luck with the entrance exam. you're gonna kill it."
"you betcha."
a quick peck on the cheek, and taehyung would turn on his heel, walk his side
of the street. "see you, babe!" he'd call out, tilting his head impossibly far,
and jeongguk would smile out of reflex.
well, would. this time, he smiles wider, more genuine, because it's the last.
jeongguk has repeated this loop more than a thousand times, and enough is
enough. grabbing taehyung's hand doesn't work, chasing him doesn't work,
calling him doesn't work, a personal cab doesn't work, forcing him to stay in
doesn't work—
jeongguk is just tired of seeing red at the end of the day.
taehyung runs off for the examination, and jeongguk starts the countdown out of
habit. only this time, he doesn't return home, nor does he chase after
taehyung. he climbs up the emergency stairs of an old plaza, just a few blocks
away from his building, and the rusty lock gives in with one swift kick.
the weather is cold, the air musty and damp. jeongguk slides about the roof,
enjoying the icy tiles. he gets to the edge eventually, and unlocks his phone
to make one last call to taehyung.
but of course, taehyung is already in the examination hall, phone switched off
as he gets ready for his future. the call gets directed to his voicemail
instead, and jeongguk waits for the beep before he records his message.
"hey, taehyung. i hope your exams went well. listen, something came up, and i
won't be in seoul for a bit. i love you a lot, okay? really, i do."
he's thought of what to say more than a hundred times, but there's no point in
crying over the phone into taehyung's voicemail, no point in delivering some
heart-wrenching farewell speech.
just telling taehyung that jeongguk loves him is enough.
the message is recorded, the call ended, and jeongguk gently places his phone
on the floor before unlacing his boots, parking them next to the device. he
unzips his parka, folding it into a neat square, and only then does he climb
over the fencing, balancing himself precariously by the barbed wires as he
peers down the city below.
jeongguk is tired, tired of holding on, of trying to get taehyung to live when
it's probably written somewhere that he has to die.
so he lets go, headfirst down towards the blank spot below between two cars.
the barbs scratch his calves and feet, but it's okay.
                                      ***
"hey, jeongguk?"
"hm?"
"come to the exam hall with me? i'm really nervous."
"...okay."
strategy number four, taehyung writes down quickly in his notebook, under
scratched up scribbles and a couple of dried up tear marks.
 
 
***** polynesia - mother mother *****
Chapter Summary
     The thing about Taehyung is that--Jeongguk can't even remember
     anymore. There are moments.
Chapter Notes
     IM BACK KIDDOS
The thing about Taehyung, Jeongguk thinks, is that he was wholly unpredictable.
Such is the cliché, but Jeongguk is forever lost and frankly tired most of the
time when it comes to Taehyung anyway. He can't be bothered to think up
anything more creative than unpredictable. It's called settling, and Jeongguk
amuses himself with the thought that yes, he's settling well.
"Let's go somewhere," Taehyung told him, quiet in the small of their room,
fingers lightly touching the planes of Jeongguk's face. "Just the two of us. We
can take Seokjin's car."
"He'll kill us both," Jeongguk chuckled. The idea seemed appealing. Still does,
actually.
"He will but it'll be worth it, don't you think?"
The thing about Taehyung is that Jeongguk couldn't say no. Hell, he still can't
say no, now. Between forced silence from a bruising kiss or some form of an
earth-shattering smile, Jeongguk can't bring himself to stop hissing the last
swhen he says, yes, okay, we can do that.
"Pack up," Taehyung whispered, like it was some huge conspiracy. There was no
itinerary for their trip; Jeongguk watched Taehyung chuck in his favorite
shirts, all cut up and loose, into a duffel bag, and he followed suit. They
probably had close to two hundred thousand won collectively, and Jeongguk
didn't ask if they were going to swing by the bank or rely on whatever scrap
change they could find in Seokjin's car.  
The thing about Taehyung is that Jeongguk won't ever be sure if it ever
happened or if he dreamt the entire thing up in some feverish hallucination.
"We should kiss when the tide rises," Taehyung had suggested. Note that it was
winter then.
They did. It was, as expected, freezing. Jeongguk thought that his legs had
disconnected themselves from the rest of his body, but no. They were a little
purple, veins stark, but he felt it when Taehyung pinched his calf hard.
Before the cold, however, was a ludicrous amount of warmth flooding him slowly
from the point where their lips meet, much too chastely for Jeongguk's taste,
but he takes what he gets. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. Well it didn't flood,
no. It spread, from the center of his chest where his heart should be, crawling
away from his sternum with a burning desire to consume Jeongguk whole. This
fire was probably what kept him safe from frostbite, Jeongguk surmises.
The thing about Taehyung is that Jeongguk was completely his. The reverse to
that statement, however, has been a question long unanswered. Unanswered is an
optimistic way to view it. On bad days, Jeongguk believes that no, Taehyung was
never his. Here comes the long-old scolding of no one belonging to anyone, but
there is safety in it. Jeongguk liked being Taehyung's. If Taehyung didn't,
then so be it. He offered safety, not a cage.
(There's a difference, Jeongguk is aware, but that's not important. It is, but
it's not.)
"You drive," Taehyung yawned, nuzzling into his seat, open and spread and
vulnerable. Jeongguk clenches his fingers about the wheel several times,
leather dampening from the sweat of his palms. To drive with Taehyung fast
asleep was nerve-wracking; Jeongguk had conjured the fantasy maybe four or five
times, the fantasy of him just swerving to the side of the road, where the
metal railings gave way to a cliff drop and he would let go of the wheel, let
go of everything as they tumble in everything but nothing at the same time.
They made the decision to leave, anyway.
(Does Taehyung know? and its variants were the thoughts circling his head then.
He didn't let the car swerve. They reached the next beach in one piece.)
"Have you ever thought of fucking in the sand?" Taehyung joked.
"Yes," Jeongguk confessed, looking both defeated and shy when Taehyung kicked
up a storm, bits of dead shells and sharp grains scratching at Jeongguk's skin
where his shirt didn't cover.
Icy ocean lapping at their ankles, leaving imprints like claws, like the sand
rubbing the webbing between their toes raw when the waves broke. The tide rose,
they kissed, and Jeongguk had a thought.
If he were to form statistics on how much of his thoughts were Taehyung, are
Taehyung, he would need a professional. There's been too many thoughts to count
anyway; instead of too many thoughts, Jeongguk wishes he can say too
muchinstead.
But from his ocean of thoughts was this thought. This particular thought he had
on that very day, early morning wind howling in his ear and hair getting into
his eyes; this particular thought that bubbled up his throat to spill out of
the corners of his mouth as the tide got higher, sea level with where their
knees began.
"Tae," Jeongguk started, "wanna get married?"
It was too conversational, Jeongguk reminisces. Taehyung gave him a tiny glance
before smirking. "Sure," he said.
No rings, no sudden waves of emotions, no surprise kisses or getting down on
one knee. Jeongguk thought it was alright, the way things were. They would get
rings some other time, maybe after signing the papers. There was no need for a
ceremony.
"I'm gonna drown," Taehyung said. "I'm gonna drown in these waters and you're
gonna save me."
"Tae, that's risky," Jeongguk bristled. Taehyung paid no heed to his warning,
powering through the tide and waves to sink down to his knees, water high
enough to cover him up to the crown of his head. He disappeared like that,
saltwater swallowing him whole and Jeongguk thought he was going to die.
Jeongguk doesn't remember much, wading through water which felt more like
hardened mud, something stabbing into his foot, or maybe it was just him
pulling a muscle. Taehyung, alive and well, laughing when the first thing he
opened his eyes to was Jeongguk's teary face. "Don't cry," he had chuckled, the
pads of his thumbs rubbing away at Jeongguk's tears, but he cried even more
from the sting of salt entering his eyes.
The thing about Taehyung is that no, they never really signed the papers or
bought the rings. Fast forward to whatever year his body decides to still
survive in, and Jeongguk can't for his life decide whether it was all imaginary
or not, those fleeting years with Taehyung.
He wakes in a single bed with no one next to him, and Seokjin's car was sold a
long time ago, sand stuck permanently to its bottom. Taehyung was real, is what
the facts cry out, but Jeongguk feels a little more than avoidant, pressured
daily by a phantom sensation of tightness around his ring finger.
 
***** my little world - teen suicide *****
Chapter Summary
     The sense of helplessness you get when you're supposedly in love.
Chapter Notes
     bc i know the 2nd person pov is gonna Fuck With Some of u it's tae.
     you are tae. get w it
The sense of helplessness that one gets from standing still, in a room, off-
center and dust under the soles feel like carpet and if you try hard enough you
can feel the ants trapped under your skin, crumbs of the bread in your hands
falling onto the floor and they line up from the top of your ceiling to the
tips of your toes. The bread is going to be three days old come morning, and
there are two slices of it left.
And you have your comic book open, halfway through the volume but if anyone
asks, you can't recall a single quote, page, anything. All you can recall is a
petty argument and you didn't reply his last text because that means getting
the last word in. That means it's hard to be the victim. You don't want to ever
deal the last blow. (It's more for your own good than his, though.)
Now, his last text was four minutes past twelve. Midnight. When there was a
full loaf of bread still and you were only three pages into your comic book. He
said goodnight, maybe. Something like that. He said goodnight and you didn't
reply the same and now it's two in the morning. It's Friday and you're supposed
to be asleep because school starts in six hours and the previous night, you
only got four hours in.
You hope he's asleep.
(You still don't text back.)
The sense of helplessness that one gets from chewing loudly on plain white
bread, dough tasting more putrid and disgusting with every bite that to
contemplate between the idle imagery of white mush rolling in your mouth and
the trail of ants you see on your wall (and how you think it looks zoomed in
and how they can very well get into your brain because if you recall, your
mother showed you some weird video of this guy who had bugs in his brain) is a
torturous act; you'd rather jump out your window. (But you live on the third
floor and there are so many bushes by the lobby that you'll probably live
anyhow.)
Ten past two. Morning. It's Friday. You take five? Six? Gulps of water and feel
like throwing up.
The sense of helplessness—you never quite specified. If someone were to ask,
then maybe you'd explain to them in simpler terms. Sand trickling past fingers,
lukewarm water running cold fast while you're squeezed into a bathtub too small
for your limbs, three red lights in a row when you're already half an hour
late. The sense that you did say, at some point, I'm willing to do anything.
The sense that now, you're entertaining the thought of how worthwhile would it
be to do something for him and the overwhelming sense that he, this particular
him, is six stations and five stops away, totaling to a forty-five-minute
journey off-peak hours, and it's two and no trains or buses run at this time
but your legs won't even walk you to bed.
The sense of helplessness knowing that the only thing making you want to
comfort him and say sorry is the feeling of his lips against yours. That you
didn't bother checking how much you have left in your wallet before calling for
a cab, that you didn't stop to think of school tomorrow, so your bag is still
in its crib of dust, uniform in your closet. You closed the door to your
apartment quietly, hands strong and gripping tightly to the handle so it closed
with nothing more than a click. Your parents are still asleep. You didn't stop
to think about the morning after where your mother finds your room empty.
The driver asks you where?and you give him the address, complete with the
postal code which you can't forget no matter how hard you try, and you're
failing school so badly. The final fare is three days' worth of lunch money.
That's okay. At least your wallet feels lighter now, light enough that you can
chuck it into the pocket of your joggers without them slipping down your hips
to pool at your knees.
Jeongguk lives in a fucking mansion, and you can't find the remote control for
his gates in the usual mailbox, and your phone ran out of credit after the cab
call and he's probably asleep anyway, so you climb over the gates, just two
heads taller than you. You get one foot up, all the way up that you're
astounded yourself, up to ground yourself on the pillar while your gangly arms
try to reach higher, fingers seeking purchase on the second-floor balcony that
you know is Jeongguk's because above it is a windchime, and the sudden three
a.m. breeze brings you memories of Saturday afternoons in his bed, and you hope
to whatever god is out there—as the weak strength of a whole loaf of white
bread propels you to the second floor, and you have bruises all over your arms
and you want nothing but Jeongguk taking off your joggers, trace the purple
underneath, press his thumb against the violet on your knees—that Jeongguk
would unlock the window and kiss you and everything will be okay, everything
will be alright.
A click. A slide that's too loud for three in the morning. Brown hair that
looks black in the dim light of the balcony and you think—you think—
"Taehyung, it's fucking threein the morning."
—you can't think.
"I know, I'm sorry." You said it. You said sorry. "I'm sorry."
The next part of the script is a kiss. He drags you by the arm into his room,
shuts the window behind you and sits you down on his bed. It's messy. The
blanket forms a cave of sorts, hollow where Jeongguk was sleeping. You want to
burrow into it. There's enough time to go home; the trains run at five in the
morning, and the buses. Oh, right. The buses run at six. Your parents wake up
at six. And you've no money in your wallet and Jeongguk isn't holding you or
kissing you and it still burns, where he gripped your arm.
Kiss me, you want to say, please.
"What're you waiting for?" Jeongguk says instead. "We have school tomorrow. Get
into bed."
The hollow is occupied again, but Jeongguk lifts his blanket; space for you to
crawl into.
You bury your face into his chest, nosing up to his collarbones, his neck. Your
fingers smell like dough and dust and dirt, but he's shampoo and a bit of
summer sweat. It's what forgiveness hopefully smells like, but you know it's
more of repentance than anything. Repentance but no punishment so you dare put
your arms around him, and he does the same, of course he does. He always gets
the last word in.
"We'll settle everything tomorrow," Jeongguk whispers. He combs your hair back,
kisses your forehead, kisses you. "Goodnight, Tae."
Okay, not always. You won't let it be always. It won't be always.
"Goodnight."
 
End Notes
     thank u for making it to the end ily <3
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