Insatiable

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25689592.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Taehyung | V/Original Female
Character(s) (Past)
Character: Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon | RM, Park Jimin
(BTS), Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Seokjin | Jin
Additional Tags: Bottom Jeon Jungkook, Top Kim Taehyung | V, Alternate Universe -
College/University, Friends With Benefits, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies
to Friends, opposite of slow burn, Power Dynamics, they bully each
other, that's the dynamic, oh no i think i'm catching feelings: the fic,
Angst, Fluff and Humor, half french! Tae, cuz why not, europeans are
spicy, Jeon Jungkook is Bad at Feelings, Jeon Jungkook is a Brat,
Mutual Pining, a whole bunch of swearing, Jeon Jungkook is a Little
Shit, jungkook is everything, relationships are complicated: the fic, i
curse like a sailor apologies, Crossdressing, Exes, Lack of
Communication, Porn With Plot, Jealous Jeon Jungkook, these boys
are bad at emotions - someone help them, Light Dom/sub, unhealthy
perceptions, dealing with insecurities, Angst with a Happy Ending,
backwards progression, Love Confessions
Collections: BTS favorites
Stats: Published: 2020-08-03 Completed: 2020-10-20 Chapters: 12/12 Words:
90034

Insatiable
by Eyedaze

Summary

"No guy has ever done this for me before,” Taehyung tells him, pressing a kiss to his
collarbone. There he goes again - making Jeongguk feel special. Dangerous thing.

In which everything is a competition to Jeongguk, but he never really cared that much about
losing until it came to Taehyung.
 Chapter One
Chapter Notes

ie. another University AU because that's all I'm good for. Enjoy my lovelies ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The first time Jeongguk meets Taehyung, it’s in the black of night.

He’s hiding in a dismally dark airing cupboard, nursing a bottle of beer and waiting for the evening
to be over. It’s the week before most university courses begin, and so everyone is spending their
few remaining days of freedom doing what all students do best: drink until they do something they
regret.

He figured he should go to the first party of the year, but he quickly discovered that parties are
only fun if you know people, if you spot a friend of a friend to catch up with. Unfortunately,
Seokjin and Namjoon are still busy unpacking all the boxes in their apartment. What snakes,
honestly. They couldn’t even be here to support Jeongguk as he indulges his mild alcoholism issue.
They’re supposed to be looking out for him - some hyungs they are.

So after being ambushed by too many a drunk girl wishing to make advances on him, he decided to
wait things out in this cramped little room and enjoy his brewed barley in peace.

At least, it is peaceful until the door flings open and someone else jumps in. They shut the door as
quickly and as furiously as they opened it, and then press their back against the other wall.

Jeongguk is astonished. “Dude, what the fuck-”

Before he can finish his sentence though, the guy clamps his hand over Jeongguk’s mouth. As in,
he puts his hand. Over his mouth. What the hell?

“Shush,” he says, softly, holding a finger up to his own lips. There’s not a lot of space here - it’s an
airing cupboard after all - so their faces are literally millimetres away from each other. He’s only a
few inches taller than Jeongguk. He can’t really tell without light, but Jeongguk thinks he has blond
hair - probably bleached. His eyebrows are stark and dark though. They frame his almond-shaped
eyes, the same ones that are staring right into Jeongguk’s. He feels weirdly naked right now.

He’s about to ask why they have to keep quiet - and also who the fuck this guy thinks he is - when
he hears it: the footsteps outside in the hallway, quick-paced and urgent. “Taehyung?” a voice
calls. It’s more of a bellow actually - boomy and loud and straight from the chest. “Taehyung?
What the fuck man... where are you? I just want to talk.”

He doesn’t, the stranger - Taehyung, presumably - mouths.

“Taehyung... where the hell did you disappear...? Dude, it’s chill. We can talk through this. Come
out so we can talk through this.”

Taehyung stays deathly quiet, his breaths nonexistent as he waits in anticipation. He’s still looking
directly at Jeongguk, and it would be super disconcerting if it weren’t for the fact that the whole
eye-contact thing is hardly the weirdest part of this situation.
They hear the footsteps getting louder as the person approaches the cupboard. Taehyung’s
eyebrow twitches. Then, the footsteps pad away, slowly growing quiet as they make their way to
the other end of the hall.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Taehyung mouths, although Jeongguk doesn’t think he actually wants a
response from him so he stays quiet. Cautiously, he cracks the door open again, peeps his head out,
then sighs in relief.

He slowly removes his hand, and before he leaves, he turns to face Jeongguk again, whispers,
“Thank you.” And then he winks - salaciously, teasingly, the sort of thing that would make you
combust if you watched it in slow motion, if you replayed it in your head.

And then he’s gone as quickly as he came.

Jeongguk just stands there for a little bit, unable to even comprehend what just happened. It all
occurred too fast for him to even process it. Is this what college kids are like? Fucking maniacs?
He can’t decide whether he likes that or not.

He stays inside the cupboard for a little while longer, taking occasional swigs of his beer and being
alone with his thoughts, which never helped anyone. He thinks about how exhausted he is, how
much he misses Busan already. He thinks about Taehyung’s lingering touch. About the fact that,
even after the guy leaves, he can still feel the ghost of his hand on his face.

Sunyeong National University - what a place.

Standing in front of it now, in the breezy warmth of March, it looks exactly like it did in those
brochures: shiny and bright and brilliant. The sheen of the modern, boxed buildings reminds him of
Seoul, which makes sense as it’s incredibly close to the city - north of the country - which means
it’s practically the furthest away he could be from Busan. He didn’t think he’d be the sort of person
to get home-sick: he’s independent, he’s ready for university life, he’s living on a campus that
looks like a movie set. And yet... there’s a part of him that wants to open his bedroom window
everyday and smell the saltiness of the sea, run onto a beach. There sure as hell aren’t any beaches
in Sunyeong.

He’s put off moving into his dorms long enough, opting instead to be a leach in his hyungs’
apartment for the last few days, but alas, classes start tomorrow so he should probably think about
settling into his new home.

Seokjin and Namjoon help lug all his bags across campus and up the stairs (“You spoiled brat, why
the hell do we do all this shit for you?”) and eventually, they arrive at the place. When he opens
the door, he’s greeted with an open-plan kitchen and living room. It’s just like when he’d visited
last summer, but now that he’s here, it seems emptier and more clinical than he’d remembered.
Down the corridor, he can hear conversation and squawked laughter in another room, and he
suddenly feels slightly nervous. He only has himself to blame though - this is what happens when
you move in late, don’t make the effort to get to know your housemates beforehand. He can’t say
he especially cares either.

“Alright.” He turns towards Seokjin and Namjoon. “You guys can go now - you’ve served your
purpose.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “This boy. Refusing to treat your hyungs with respect.”
“Should be used to it by now.”

“Is wishful thinking so wrong?”

“Okay - I love you. I appreciate you. So much. Now get out.”

Seokjin tuts. “And tomorrow, he’ll be calling to ask for my cooking.”

“Oh, absolutely. I like our little arrangement.”

“Yeah, because you’re the only one who stands to gain anything,” Namjoon says.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes in mock confusion. “But you get my company.”

The two of them share a look. “Lucky us.”

“Okay, scum of the earth, we’re leaving now,” Seokjin says, pulling him in for a close hug.
Jeongguk squeezes back equally tight. “Call us if anything goes wrong, or if your housemates are
dicks, or if you set the oven on fire. We’re here for you.”

“Jin-hyung, you guys are like ten minutes away. Don’t hover; I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but still. Your brother will kill us if anything happens to you.”

“My family really terrorises you, don’t they?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Namjoon says in agreement. He gives Jeongguk a fond squeeze
on the shoulder nevertheless. “Alright, look after yourself. Don’t eat ramen noodles every day...”
He turns to Jin. “Did we cover everything?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Bye squirt.”

He waves his hyungs goodbye, and mentally braces himself for the next step in his orientation
journey: meeting the housemates. At the end of the corridor - with bedrooms either side - there’s a
door that leads to a smaller room. It’s essentially another mini living room/study - there are bean
bags, a cosy little study nook, and an old CRT television. It’s also only large enough to realistically
fit two people, but when Jeongguk opens the entrance, he sees four sprawled out on the floor, their
legs tangled with one another: three guys, one girl.

They go deathly quiet when they see him.

Then, one of the guys starts smiling. “Ah, here he is - the mystery fifth.”

“We thought you’d never show up,” another one says. He has bright blonde hair, and Jeongguk
instantly recognises his face: ghost-hand guy. He doesn’t make an indication of remembering
Jeongguk though (which, fair enough: it was dark and he was most likely off his face) so he doesn’t
make a comment.

“Awh look at him,” the girl says. “Look at his ridiculously big suitcase. I remember cramming as
well freshman year.”

“You guys aren’t freshmen?” Jeongguk asks.

“Nope, we’re sophomores,” the last guy speaks up.

“Oh, right. Erm, so why-”

“Why are you with us?” party guy (Taehyung?) interrupts. “Beats me. I think they just admitted
way too many freshmen this year. Must really value educating the youth of this country.”

“And the fat stacks of student loans,” the first guy says.

“Hmm, yeah, those too.” He continues, “They probably just didn’t have enough rooms for
everyone in the freshmen quarters so now they’re just trying to slot you guys in wherever.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Alright.” The girl sits up, palms together. The first thing Jeongguk notices is how ridiculously
long her nails are. They’re probably acrylics - they must be - and they’re straight, sharp and pointy
like talons. Neon pink. How tasteful. “Let’s do introductions, shall we? You are...?”

“Jeongguk,” he says, feeling like a kid in middle school again. There must be more natural ways of
doing this whole thing, right? Something less patronising.

“I’m Mina,” the girl says, flashing him a smile with her pearly white teeth. They’re all strangely
attractive people - it’s very intimidating. “That’s Hoseok, Taehyung and Yoongi. Nice to meet
you.”

“You know where everything is on campus, right?” Hoseok asks. Jeongguk nods: Seokjin gave
him an extensive tour of the whole place earlier in the week; he takes his role as surrogate parent
very seriously. “Alright cool - your bedroom’s the one nearest the living room, on the left.”

“Thanks.”

“And don’t touch the seaweed in the fridge,” Yoongi says. He manages to make everything sound
like a muffled grumble, even when he’s directly addressing someone. “Or I will skin you.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know whether that was supposed to be a joke, or put him more at ease or
something, and when none of the others react to it, he’s just more confused. He cracks a weak
smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

And then he closes the door again, starts heading down the hallway. Well. That could’ve gone
worse. Probably could’ve gotten better, but it’s clear that they don’t really care much about
befriending him and the disinterest is mutual. Anyway, he knows the kind of people they are:
beautiful and knowing it, no regard for others. They’re probably the type to be obnoxiously loud in
public places like restaurants, or do lines because they’re bored and want something to pass the
time. They probably have causal sex with one another - just one big fucking intoxicated circle
jerk... plus Mina.

It’s fine. He’ll share a kitchen with them, and he’ll watch TV with them, and he’ll take on cleaning
duties with them, but he’s not expecting them to become his second family. This isn’t an American
sitcom. They’re not his quirky, loveable neighbours, and that’s okay; he’s used to fending for
himself anyway.

In the first few weeks, Jeongguk spends more time at Seokjin and Namjoon’s apartment than he
does in the dorms. Their place is probably smaller to be honest (living in the city can be financially
unforgiving if you’re a student - you usually can’t be too ambitious) but it’s homely, and smells
like Seokjin’s cooking, and they always make time for him.

“You know,” Seokjin says, ladling noodles into a bowl for him, “you’re never going to bond with
them if you keep avoiding them.”

“I’m not avoiding them,” Jeongguk says. “Makes it sound like I’m scared of them. I’m not scared.
Just can’t be bothered. They’re sophomores and they’re assholes.”

Well, less so now, Jeongguk has to admit - they’re kind of growing on him. He’s said like a total of
three sentences to them, but they’re alright enough: they respect his space, and make an extra
portion for him whenever they’re cooking for the group, and after eavesdropping on many of their
conversations (well, it’s not really eavesdropping if they’re practically shouting - Jeongguk was
right: definitely obnoxiously loud), he can confirm that they actually seem like interesting people.
Funny, even. They can take a joke as well as they can give one, and Jeongguk thinks that maybe
they’d all actually have some good chats if they ever bothered to include him in them - which they
don’t, and that’s fine with him.

There is one day though where they suddenly become inexplicably interested in hearing his voice.

It starts off like any other weekend morning: Jeongguk pads into the kitchen to make himself some
cereal, and he sits and eats it at the bar instead of at the living room coffee table like the rest of
them. Hoseok, Mina and Taehyung watch him curiously from the sofa. He can feel their eyes on
him, but makes a point of not looking at them.

“Maybe he’s an alien,” Taehyung says after a while.

“Possibly. Explains the lack of communication - maybe his kind uses telepathy.”

“Do you think his body is just a shell?” Mina muses. “Like, maybe he doesn’t even know how to
use his mouth. Because it’s not real.”

“Agreed - his tongue is one hundred percent made of Mars dust.”

See: assholes. Any other group of normal people would just ask him a question like “Where are
you from?” or “What degree do you study?” Instead, they just talk shit to get a rise out of him, a
reaction. What are they trying to achieve? Jeongguk just stares down harder at his cereal. Mhmm,
milk. At this point, Yoongi comes padding down the hallway and into the room, his eyes still puffy
with sleep.

“Should we try and initiate a peace treaty?” Taehyung continues. “You know, for the sake of
mankind’s future?”

“Nah, we’ve had our fun,” Hoseok says. “I say let the Martians take Earth for a spin.”

“Jesus, stop bothering him,” Yoongi says, giving them all a withering look. He rolls his eyes,
glancing at Jeongguk. “Sorry, kid.”

Jeongguk shrugs, continues eating his cereal.

A small smile appears on Yoongi’s face. “You really don’t say much, do you?” Then, he’s sliding
something across the counter towards him. “Think you can help me with this?”

Jeongguk blinks a little at the piece of paper. A newspaper crossword. “You still do these?”

“My mum has a shit-ton of them at home, so before I leave for Sunyeong, I cut the puzzle section
out of all of them and I have enough to last me the whole semester. Helps keep the mind sharp and
all that.”
“Right. And you know the internet exists?”

“Sure - but this is more authentic. Same reason I roll my own cigarettes. The stuff you buy in stores
is nasty, you don’t even know what’s in them half the time.”

“Stop trying to make your nicotine addiction a noble thing,” Hoseok retorts. “And stop with this
whole ‘authentic’ bullshit.”

“Yoongi thinks the government’s spying on us,” Taehyung supplies.

Yoongi gives him a look that could make a person shrivel on the spot. Taehyung seems unscathed;
Jeongguk is impressed. “I don’t. I think large corporations are - which is true - because they want
to collate a crap ton of personal data about us - which is also true - so that they can viciously target
us with advertisements - another fucking truth - because humans are weak and susceptible to
buying crap they don’t need and overconsumption is ruining the Earth, so excuse me if I don’t
want some Claire at Facebook HQ knowing that I have a foot fetish and trying to sell me
fleshlights.”

These people are crazy.

After the (very short-lived) outburst, he turns back to Jeongguk again. “Anyway, yeah. So.” He
gestures to the crossword.

Jeongguk glances at it. “Erm, that one - eleven across, actor who played a French detective in a
film released in 1974. It’s Albert Finney: Murder on the Orient Express.”

Yoongi looks at it for a while, then jots it down. “Huh. How’d you know that?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I watch a lot of films.”

He turns back to the others. “See? There are ways to find out more about people without being
pricks.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok says. “Let’s all clap for Yoongi, the epitome of friendliness.”

The three of them give a short round of applause, and Yoongi flips the finger at them. Then, he
looks back at Jeongguk. “Don’t mind them. They can be insufferable, but usually they only bully
people they think can handle it, so. A twisted form of respect, I guess. I dunno, read it how you
like.”

Huh, out of the four of them, he wasn’t expecting Yoongi to be his hero-in-disguise, what with the
fact that he looks like he’s probably killed a few people in the course of his lifetime. “Yeah.
Thanks.”

Yoongi gives him a smile that’s more a grimace than a smile, and goes back to his crossword.

“You got any questions for us, alien boy?” Mina speaks up again, although Jeongguk feels less
harassed this time; there’s a playfulness to her tone. “You know, since you’re so averse to talking
about yourself.”

“As opposed to you guys, who are overly self-absorbed?” Jeongguk asks. That earns a snort from
her.

“Wow. I feel personally attacked,” Taehyung says. “No one has ever spoken such an absolute truth
about me.”
“What can I say?” Jeongguk shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’m a good judge
of character.” He’s silent for a moment. “Actually, I do have a question. How do you function with
those?”

He gestures to Mina’s nails. She’s changed them at least twice since his moving in - a fortnight
ago, they were firehouse red, and now they’re lilac. There’s no consistency or pattern to the
colours, and that highkey gets under Jeongguk’s skin. Also, aren’t gels like 50,000 won for each
job? How does any student have enough money to be spending that much every week on claws?
He will never understand these people.

“Oh these?” Mina holds her hand up to her eyes, inspects them. “I don’t know really, I just do. You
get used to them after a while. The only thing I’ve never really managed to master is opening
canned drinks, so I make Hoseok do it for me. Can’t risk breaking these babies.”

“It’s because you do it so fucking agressively,” Hoseok grumbles.

“Maybe,” Mina says, in the kind of voice that suggests that she doesn’t think that’s even remotely
possible. “And it’s therapeutic in a way, painting them. It’s my happy place.”

Jeongguk’s cereal is soggy now. That’s what happens when he gets ambushed into talking to
people instead of just shoving the cornflakes into his mouth. He needs to find a way to stealthily
scoop the remaining into the bin without being judged. “You do them yourself?”

“Honey, they’re real.” She wiggles her fingers with a grin. How do they manage to do everything
so flirtatiously? Mina could probably open the fridge a certain way, and Jeongguk would interpret
it as a mating ritual. “Why do you think I’m so proud of them?”

He shrugs again, annoyed that he no longer has the excuse of eating to avoid responding.

“Hey kid,” Yonongi speaks up, still staring intently at the crossword. “Another film one for you.
Nine down - a thriller about a policeman turned pimp, released in 2008.”

“The Chaser,” Jeongguk replies, already standing up to make his way to leave. He doubts any of
them will actually care if he scrapes the rest into the bin - they’re hardly the type to lecture him
about wasting food. He’s embarrassed for even considering feeling embarrassed about it in the first
place.

Yoongi gives him a perfunctory nod of satisfaction before looking down again.

“Leaving so soon, alien boy?” Mina asks, as Jeongguk starts washing up his bowl.

“What can I say? All this social interaction has drained me. I need to recharge.”

“Understandable - see you.”

“What do you do all day alone in your room anyway?” Taehyung asks, as if it’s his right to know.
They seem to teeter between being outspoken and irritatingly presumptuous.

“Relay back to my Martian brothers.”

That earns another snort from Mina as he switches off the tap, and heads back down the hallway
again. “I like him,” he hears her say as he’s closing the door behind him. “Let’s keep him.”
“This is such a dumb show.”

“Shush,” Mina says, pressing a nail to Jeongguk’s lips, her eyes focused on the screen.

The five of them are squashed onto the two living room sofas, watching an episode of an
unbelievably abysmal K-drama. Apparently, it’s broadcasted every Friday night, and it’s their
favourite show, and they make a real big deal of it: curtains closed, lights dimmed, microwave
popcorn and Yoongi’s seaweed at the ready. It’s a thing. Jeongguk cannot for the life of him see
why, but he’s trying to ‘bond’, so.

“I don’t understand what the fuck is going on,” he says.

“Right, so basically,” Mina starts. “Cho - he’s the main character - he’s a detective, right? But after
a sting operation goes wrong, he and his family are forced to go into witness protection: Dae-il.
New identity, yeah? But-”

“But he didn’t cover his traces completely,” Hoseok continues, “so the antagonist - drug lord,
crime boss dude, whatever - he knows Cho’s new destination.”

“But Cho doesn’t know that he knows,” Taehyung adds.

“Yet,” Mina says.

“Yet,” he agrees.

“And Cho - Dae-il, whatever - he falls in love with his neighbour, and has an affair with her-”

“Cheating bastard,” Yoongi mutters.

“-but the neighbour turns out to be one of Manseok’s - that’s the villain dude - ex wives. So
obviously, Manseok isn’t happy-”

“No sir.”

“-but all the times he tries to get Dae-il killed, the guy survives because, you know.”

“Detective training and that.”

“Right. So he’s just trying to keep his family safe, and you know, he’s slaughtering Manseok’s
henchmen like left, right and centre.”

“Lots of cop chases.”

“We love a good cop chase.”

“We do.”

“And then we find out that the neighbour, she’s pregnant with Dae-il’s baby-”

“So now he has to do all the henchmen-fighting, while trying to figure out how he’s going to hide
the whole baby situation from his wife. And he still doesn’t know she’s connected to Manseok. ”
Mina clucks, thinking to see if she’s missed anything. “Yeah, that’s about it. Now shut up and
watch.”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk mumbles. “It’s a Korean telenovela.”

Mina pinches his arm. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s hot trash.”

She reaches out to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Jeongguk’s lap. “That’s why it’s
amazing.” She takes some more and holds it against Jeongguk’s mouth, prompting him to open it.
It’s probably to make him shut up, but he’s not opposed to being fed so he obeys.

The more and more he observes, the more he realises how touchy they all are. Well, not all the
time, but Mina and Taehyung in particular are practically cats, rubbing up against everyone and
everything. Mina has a thing for lazily massaging people with her nails, and Taehyung has no
regard for personal space, so Jeongguk feels like a part of their friendship is them just satisfying
their desire for close human proximity. He’s not the kind of person who likes being coddled or
touched if he hasn’t asked for it, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t completely hate it. Mina’s
hands are relaxing in a way.

Halfway through the film, Yoongi, without looking at him, silently extends his packet of seaweed
towards him. “You’re the only one I trust not to take more than one,” is his reasoning. “If you
betray me, I will forcibly cut you open and eviscerate you organ by organ.”

“Why are you so weirdly specific with your threats?” Jeongguk asks. “‘I’ll kill you’ would’ve been
enough.”

“Because I keep people in check by instilling terror into them,” he replies. “Now take one before I
change my mind.”

What can Jeongguk say? They’re growing on him. Them, and their shitty shows.

Except Taehyung. Taehyung’s a strange one.

Whilst the others have slowly become more mellow towards Jeongguk, Taehyung still walks
around the dorms like it’s his territory or something - everything he says or does is some covert
power move. Like how he refuses to call Jeongguk ‘Jeongguk’. It’s just: “Hey, Jeon” and “Have
you emptied the bins yet, Jeon?” and “You ever speak more than two sentences, Jeon?”

Still, it’s a step up from ‘alien boy’ and Jeongguk tries not to take it personally. It’s just the way he
is: Taehyung is brazen, and competitive about stupid things, and playful - and Jeongguk just
happens to be his new toy for the month. Sometimes though, it’s unnecessary. And sometimes
Jeongguk just wants to sit in peace at the kitchen bar and have his evening snack, instead of:

“Jeon. Hey, Jeon.” And he’s so insistent as well. He sees silence as a challenge to overcome,
instead of an indication that the person just obviously doesn’t want to talk to him. Imagine being
that self-important. “Jeon.”

Jeongguk gives him an unimpressed look. “... yes?”

“You wanna play Speed?” He displays the pack of cards in his hands.

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“Nope.”
Taehyung pouts. “But no one else will play with me.”

“I’m doing research,” Mina says from the sofa, not even looking up from the textbook she’s
reading.

Jeongguk lifts up the sandwich in his hands. “I’m doing nutrition.”

“C’mon.”

“No.” Jeongguk wonders how many times the word has to be repeated before it finally makes
headway through Taehyung’s thick skull.

“Please.”

And that’s the other thing - it’s all mind games with Taehyung. This isn’t about the cards, it’s
about disrupting Jeongguk’s evening - wearing him down until he does what Taehyung wants him
to, bends to his will. Every conversation Jeongguk has with him seems like a secret competition, an
opportunity for him to impose himself. To be honest, he probably hasn’t stopped because Jeongguk
always matches his energy, always claps back. He probably enjoys it, this little game of theirs.
Jeongguk should just ignore him, and not give him the time of day, and watch him slowly lose
interest in being an absolute attention-seeking child. But, then again.

“C’mon.”

Then again, sometimes it’s satisfying to win once in a while.

He crams some crust into his mouth as fuel. “Yeah, sure.”

Taehyung grins slyly, starts shuffling the cards as Jeongguk joins him at the dining table. Jeongguk
looks down at his hands as he does so, because the alternative is looking straight into his eyes.
That’s a thing too - Taehyung, and eye contact. Anyone else would just find it uncomfortable after
a while, but Taehyung is so deliberate about it, hostile even: power move. His hands are sort of
mesmerising anyway; Jeongguk watches as his fingers flick the cards, bend them, toss them. Deft
little things. Long and slender; short, blunt nails; neat cuticles. They’re sort of elegant, in a
freakishly elongated way. Piano hands.

“Do you play a musical instrument?” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow. “No, why’d you ask?”

“No reason.”

He laughs slightly. “There was no reason for that seemingly random question?”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s what random means.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“... yeah.” Always has to have the last word: fucking child. “Anyway, the rules of Speed-”

“I know how to play already,” Jeongguk interrupts.

“Know a lot of things, Jeon.”

“Thanks, Kim.”

“Sure.” Taehyung still somehow manages to watch him as he’s dealing out the cards on the table.
This guy. He splits the remaining ones into two piles and positions them symmetrically from the
middle. He and Jeongguk both pick a pile. He’s still staring. “On three,” he says. “One... two...
three!”

They slam their respective cards down in the middle. The game is a frenzied mess - lots of chaotic
jerking, and haphazard stacking, and Taehyung being butthurt every five seconds when his move
gets blocked - but Jeongguk wins in the end. He may not be great at a lot of things, but he knows
speed, and he knows strategy, and he knows that he really doesn’t want to give Taehyung any
satisfaction.

Despite this, Taehyung looks weirdly pleased afterwards - like he’s glad he got Jeongguk to break
out of his shell or something. His eyes gleam a little bit as he smiles. “Play again?”

“I’m good,” Jeongguk says, standing up and walking back over to the kitchen. “Want to get back to
nourishing.”

“C’mon. Best of three?” He’s already reshuffling the cards - presumptive prick. “What, you scared
you’re gonna lose, Jeon?”

Jeongguk picks up his plate, and walks over to the dining table, and Taehyung is grinning until
Jeongguk picks up the rest of his sandwich and holds it to his face. “Decided I’m not hungry after
all,” he says. “Open wide.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Taehyung just looks at him with those almond eyes of him, and
then something wicked glints in them. He opens his mouth and Jeongguk presses the last mouthful
of bread inside.

“Good boy,” he says as Taehyung chews.

“Peanut butter. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Only the best for you.”

He walks back towards the kitchen to dump the plate in the sink, when Taehyung suddenly calls
out again. “Hey, Jeon.” He waves the deck of cards when Jeongguk turns around. “We’ll settle this
later, yeah?”

“No.”

He grins - boxy, and wide and taunting - like he already knows he’s going to have his way. “Sure.
Goodnight, Jeon.”

He rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Kim.”

After he washes up, he turns around quickly so Taehyung can’t see himself smiling to himself as he
walks back to his bedroom. He guess he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it as well, a little bit -
this game.

It's three am, the doorbell is ringing, and Jeongguk is ready to slap someone.
“What the fuck,” he mumbles into his pillow. He stays completely still, hoping that will cause
whoever’s outside to just leave, but of course it doesn’t - because why would it - so now he’s faced
with the following dilemma: get more annoyed, or get up. He knows none of the others will -
because Yoongi’s a heavy sleeper, and the others are lazy, indifferent fucks - and his room is
closest to the entrance anyway.

He trudges out of bed, disgruntled, and is even less impressed when he opens the door and a very
drunk Taehyung stands on the other side, hand still raised, ready to assault the button again. This.
Guy.

“You know you have a key, right?” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn.

“Shit, do I?” Anxiously, Taehyung pats down his coat until he eventually discovers his key,
pulling it out of the pocket forlornly. His confusion is almost sweet.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Get inside.”

He does, staggering like a zombie in a zigzagged beeline for the sofa, where he crashes down. His
incoherent moans are enough to tell Jeongguk that the guy really went overboard. He’d always
imagined Taehyung to be a classy drunk - a wine-drinker, regaling his dinner guests with stories of
his impetuous youth with a glass of rosé in one hand, and his dazzling wit in the other. Turns out
he’s just a very high-maintenance drunk - doesn’t know when enough is enough. And also, a
regular one. He figured that the four of them were party people - dashing, and reckless and
impulsive as they are - but the number of times Taehyung actually goes out in a week is alarming.

Jeongguk sends up a silent prayer for his liver. Then, he goes to the kitchen and grabs a cup. “You
want some water?” he asks.

“No,” Taehyung says.

He fills up the cup anway. “You need some water.” Taehyung protests a little bit when he tries to
hand it to him, but eventually complies. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Hmm.” Unconvinced, he takes a few gulps, and then seemingly gets bored and opts to just stare at
his distorted reflection in the glass instead.

“Drink up, big boy.”

“‘M tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” he moans, leaning his head against the sofa in exasperation. Even when he’s
at half the mental capacity, he’s insufferable.

“I’m not leaving you until you go to bed.” Jeongguk takes the glass from him and places it on the
coffee table before he can break it somehow. “Don’t want you doing any dumb shit.”

Taehyung just looks up at him from his slouched position, eyes tired and glassy, a lazy smile on
his face. Then, just as languidly, he lifts up both his arms towards Jeongguk until they rest on his
face, his hands cupping Jeongguk’s cheeks in a way that seems too gentle for a guy like him to
achieve. And then, in slow-motion, he lifts his own head, travels forward. Without thinking,
Jeongguk screws his eyes shut - more to brace himself than anything else, as protection - but
nothing happens. When he opens them again, it’s just Taehyung, and his eyes, millimetres away
from his.
 His lips are wet and parted, and there’s something expectant about it, but he doesn’t move any
further. Just stares. Then he says, “I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to,” and Jeongguk feels
all the breath leave his body, like he’s just gotten punched in the throat. He wants Taehyung to just
go back to being mean - at least he could handle that. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed
to do with this.

He swallows. “Okay.”

Taehyung’s gaze is chilling at best, and mercilessly obliterative at worst. He blinks impossibly
slowly, like a camera shutter. “Is that you saying you don’t want to?”

“It’s me saying you’re not sober enough to even know what you want.” Jeongguk sighs, shifting
backwards. Taehyung’s hands fall down in his lap, and he looks at them, sad, like he doesn’t know
what to do with them anymore. “Taehyung, go to bed.”

“Ngh.” He mutters something else incomprehensible, before falling back to lay on the sofa. His
shirt rides up as he stretches, exposing the skin of his stomach, his V-line, a glimpse of his white
boxers. Even when he’s not trying, he’s taunting. “I am in bed,” he says, defiant once more.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeongguk says, standing up and feeling oddly disorientated. He doesn’t even trust
himself to use his legs properly, feels like they might give way when he starts to walk. “Goodnight,
Kim.”

He’s already turning away, onto his side. “Night, Jeon.”

When Jeongguk gets back to his room, he pulls the duvet up all the way to his face, if only to
imitate the feeling of hands.

They don’t talk about it the next day.

When Taehyung finally walks out of his room, at two in the afternoon, there’s a part of Jeongguk
that wants him to say something. Anything. There’s also a part of him that feels like throwing up.
He keeps his eyes trained on his phone as Taehyung grabs a Coke from the fridge, walks around
the bar. He hovers over Jeongguk’s shoulders for a moment, peering down at his screen - and
Jeongguk doesn’t breathe, can’t - but then all he gets is a “Shit, it’s two already?” before Taehyung
walks over to the sofa, probably to watch some god-awful TV.

Jeongguk can’t tell whether he’s disappointed or relieved. He just kind of feels void of anything.
His cheeks tingle, like there are ghosts dancing on his face: momentary, fleeting. Not real. He
stares at his phone a little harder, decides he’s more disappointed than relieved, but mainly just
embarrassed. He didn’t take Taehyung to be a forgetful drunk. He’s probably a regretful one
though.

Everything goes back to normal - not that it ever wasn’t to begin with - and Jeongguk can’t say that
he cares. He’s fine with it. Really. He is.

Chapter End Notes

At this point, I think bratty Jeongguk is the only Jeongguk I can write, but oh well -
one trick ponies for the win.

I'll try to upload every week (but don't hold me to it lmao).

 Chapter Two
Chapter Summary

This chapter is 90% sex and Jeongguk's insecurities, so. You've been warned.

The thing with Taehyung is he wants what he can’t have.

He’s not interested in the reward, he’s interested in the chase. There’s a certain intrigue, mystique,
that surrounds something that you don’t own, that you don’t have permission to touch. There’s
something alluring about a challenge.

That’s probably what Taehyung sees him as - a challenge.

At least, that’s the only way Jeongguk can explain his recent behaviour, the playful flirting. He
doesn’t think much of it at first - the sly hand on his thigh as Taehyung reaches out to get popcorn,
or on his hip when Taehyung nudges him out of the way to get to a cupboard - but it gradually
becomes less gentle, less accidental. It’s like Taehyung is playing a game with himself, seeing how
far he can escalate things until Jeongguk calls him out on it, until he breaks an unspoken rule. It’s
extremely aggravating. Because Jeongguk isn’t a challenge, or a game, or a puzzle that Taehyung
gets to have fun figuring out.

He’s a person, and he wants answers. He also kind of wants Taehyung to stop this - whatever it is
they’re doing - because there’s a part of him that knows that he probably won’t be able to himself,
if push comes to shove. Because there’s something about the way Taehyung looks at him that
makes his knees weak, a little, and he doesn’t hate it completely. But he also knows that he really
doesn’t want to sleep with him. Because if he does, what happens next? The chase will be over, and
what will he be to Taehyung? A trophy. A conquest. Fuck that. Fuck him.

That’s why he’s going to maintain a strong resolve - he needs to - because he’ll be damned if he
lets Taehyung use him and then get bored of him, move onto his next new toy. If their relationship
is doomed from the start, at least the route he’s opting for will leave him with dignity. Because if
it’s power that Taehyung wants, Jeongguk isn’t planning on giving any to him.

... until he does.

He blames the ethanol.

He wasn’t exactly feeling up for it when he was invited to the party by Yugyeom - one of the
friends he’s made from maths. He’s also one of the only people on his course who doesn’t piss him
off whenever they open their mouths. He wants a wingman - apparently, Jeongguk is smooth when
talking to people, and Yugyeom is tragically not - and so it’s Jeongguk’s job to help him strike up a
conversation with this girl he’s had his eyes on for the last week (“Don’t phrase it like that. You
sound like a serial killer.” “Sorry.”) He would’ve said no, but he’s blown Yugyeom off so many
times already, and seeing as he’s one of the few decent freshmen he’s met so far, he feels obligated
to, for the sake of their valuable friendship.

“Whose house even is this?” Jeongguk asks, as they approach the building. It looks like a Victorian
hall: tall, and grand and ghostly.
“Woojin’s,” Yugyeom replies.

“Who?”

“Woojin? He’s a--he’s a junior. He studies engineering? His parents are both surgeons, so he’s
minted.”

“How do you know him?”

“I mean, I don’t really. Not like personally. I just... you know. You hear stuff from other people.”

It’s only recently occured to Jeongguk that there is at least some kind of event held every week,
and he never recognises the name of the hosts. Who the fuck is throwing all these parties? And
why hasn’t he heard of any of these people? Maybe his hyungs were right about him avoiding
things, not really being part of the community. He needs to, like, sign up to a club or something.
Join a knitting circle.

When they enter the building, Jeongguk admits it takes him a while to actually spot Chaewon in
the sea of bodies, mainly because she’s not what he would’ve envisioned Yuygeom’s type to be.
Like, at all. She has straight, long black hair, black clothes, and black, chunky boots that could
probably crush a human underfoot. She’s very pretty to be fair, like a untouchable gothic princess,
but she also looks like the sort of person who chews on and spits out boys like Yuygeom for
breakfast. So. Honestly, Jeongguk commends him - guy has balls after all.

“Wait, that’s Chaewon?” Jeongguk says. “You sure that isn’t blood in her cup?”

“Shut up, Guk.”

“No seriously, she isn’t a vampire?”

They loiter in the kitchen for the next hour, Yugyeom drinking at an alarmingly fast rate in order to
kickstart that Dutch courage he needs to poke the dragon and not get eaten, and Jeongguk drinking
at an alarmingly fast rate because he has no self-restraint or respect for his body.

“Ok,” Yuygeom says, crushing yet another can of beer and tossing it at the bin. He misses. “I think
I’m ready.”

“You sure, big boy?”

“Yeah.” He burps a little, his face warm and ruddy from the alcohol. “Let’s do it before I throw
up.”

“Good idea. A hundred percent.”

Chaewon ends up being weirdly... chill. Maybe Jeongguk should stop judging people so quickly
from their outward appearance, even if his assumptions are right 99.9% of the time. She’s wearing
a The Godfather shirt - so she’s already cool in his books - and she actually recognises Yuygeom
from her Economics class, even though the two of them have never spoken, so she isn’t one of
those asshats who forgets about the existence of people who aren’t in their immediate friendship
group. Nice. Maybe Yuygeom’s her type too, considering how quickly she warmed up to him. She
probably likes his school-boy vibe, his awkwardness, the way he’s so eager to please - but not in a
sinister, manipulative way. She just finds it endearing; it’s kind of cute.

After talking about film theories and bullying Yugyeom for having trash taste for a while,
Jeongguk feels comfortable enough leaving his Casanova to fend for himself and makes up
something to excuse himself from the conversation. He’s entertaining the idea of joining a beer
pong game when he hears it: “Jeon?”

He recognises the voice instantly, and sure enough, when he turns his head to the side, he sees
Taehyung approaching him. He’s wearing black slacks and an oversized lilac dress shirt, and
there’s something strangely classy about it, like he stepped out of a magazine for business men
attire. Even here, he walks like he owns this place - this hauntingly glamorous mansion. He’s
beautiful, and he knows it, and Jeongguk has always found this to be such a turn-off in people -
there’s something so ugly about arrogance - and yet... Taehyung wears it well, this self-awareness,
like he does everything.

It’s not as pronounced as smugness, it’s just the fact that he knows people are looking at him and
acts accordingly - in the way he squares his shoulders slightly, takes his time when he walks, tilts
his chin when he asks a question. It’s all a spectacle - a subtle one, but a spectacle nonetheless, one
Jeongguk wishes he could stop himself watching.

“I come bearing gifts,” Taehyung says when Jeongguk’s finally in earshot, handing him one of the
two drinks he’s carrying.

“Awh, you got me something?” Jeongguk says, a teasing smile on his face. “How thoughtful.”

“Well, it was either you, or the girl with the halter top over there. You just happened to be closer.
So.”

“Charming.”

“As ever.” He leans against the wall like Jeongguk, the two of them facing forwards as they talk.
“Thought parties weren’t your thing. Or like, human interaction.”

“It’s not, I’m strictly here on business.” He gestures towards Yugyeom and Chaewon, who have
now moved onto the sofas and are laughing at something supposedly hysterical. “I’m the world’s
greatest wingman,” he declares. “Love was born today, Kim.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Taehyung says, his voice husky as he chuckles. “You think you can help fix my
relationships?”

“That would require extreme personality alterations that I just don’t think are achievable for a
client - I’m a service provider Kim, not a miracle worker.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Noted. Guess I’m too much of a lost cause.” Jeongguk can feel him
looking his way now. “Shame.”

Jeongguk doesn’t read into it - he doesn’t - because he knows that that will only bring questions
he’ll never get answers to. He needs to distract himself, do something with his hands. Drink. Right.

He opens the can that Taehyung gave him before, his finger stumbling around the tab a little bit as
he does so, because he can still feel Taehyung’s eyes on him still and it’s all kinds of unnerving. He
throws his head back slightly as he takes a chug, and then instantly regrets it because it’s strong
stuff: it sets his throat on fire as it travels down, makes his cheeks tingle. Trying really hard not to
cough, he checks the packaging and his eyes nearly bulge out when he sees the alcohol content
percentage.

“What the fuck man,” he says. “You drink this shit?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“It doesn’t even have flavour to it - it’s just chemicals.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Jeon,” Taehyung says, clinking their cans together. There’s something scheming
about his smile. “Bottoms up.”

“You tryna get me drunk, Kim?”

Taehyung laughs a little at that - airy, breathy. It makes something stir in Jeongguk’s stomach.
“Maybe.”

“Suspicious activity.”

“What can I say, I’m a strange guy.”

Jeongguk takes another gulp. It makes his nose burn. “Agreed.”

“So, how are you liking Sunyeong so far? Hoseok tells me you’re from Busan - that’s quite a trek.
Getting homesick yet?”

Jeongguk ignores his question altogether, saying instead, “Awh, you talk about me?”

Taehyung snorts a little bit. “Sure. Wouldn’t have to if you told me shit.”

“Maybe I would if you asked.”

“Shouldn’t have to ask.”

This guy: self-importance incarnate. Jeongguk feels his eyebrow twitch in irritation. “Maybe this is
why I don’t tell you. Because you’re so--” He pauses. “Never mind, forget it.” He takes another sip
of his drink.

Taehyung turns to him again, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “No, finish the sentence.
I’m so...?”

“Nothing.”

“Awh, such a tease, Jeon.” He places a hand on his waist, and for a second, Jeongguk probably
couldn’t have replied even if he wanted to, because he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to use his
tongue. “Go on, say it.”

And suddenly, Taehyung’s face is a whole lot closer to his and Jeongguk has no idea when that
happened. “Say it,” he whispers.

Jeongguk almost holds his breath as he watches Taehyung lean forwards - slow-motion, their eyes
locked together - almost doesn’t register it’s actually happening. When their lips meet, he’s
expecting it to be a lot less gentle than it actually is, but there’s something hesitative about the way
Taehyung hovers above him, like he doesn’t want to go all the way until Jeongguk meets him in
the middle. And even though his heart is pounding in his chest, and the only thing he can hear in
his ears is his roaring pulse, Jeongguk somehow makes his body move, brings a hand to settle in
Taehyung’s hair. Kisses back.

And maybe he’ll regret this when it’s over - all of it - but for once, it doesn’t feel like a power
move, a battle for leverage. It’s just a warm body, a hand on his waist, a soft mouth. It doesn’t feel
like a game, which is good because Jeongguk is tired of playing.

Taehyung readjusts their positions so Jeongguk’s back is against the wall, tilts his head to deepen
the kiss in a way that has Jeongguk reeling. He’s clutching his hips tighter now, tugging them
towards each other, grinding down on him--

“Wait,” Jeongguk says, pulling away, because he’s not about to dry-hump Taehyung in front of a
bunch of strangers. “Not here.”

Taehyung gives him a look, but complies anyway, grabbing Jeongguk’s hand as he whisks him out
of the living room and into the hallway. This house is massive, Jeongguk realises, as the two of
them walk through this never-ending maze of corridors. Eventually, they stumble upon one that
doesn’t have inebriated students loitering around in it, and Taehyung spins Jeongguk round and
slams him against the wall. Ok, he takes everything back: there’s nothing gentle about this. He
can’t say he hates it.

That doesn’t make it any less overwhelming though: Taehyung’s hands seem to be a hundred
million places all at once. Jeongguk feels like his brain is going to malfunction if he tries to keep
up: a palm on his hips, on his thigh, on his waist, grabbing his ass, stroking his face. It’s all so...
much. And throughout all of this, Taehyung’s still kissing him - fervently, relentlessly,
unforgivingly. Jeongguk can’t breathe.

“Shit,” he says, bringing his own hands up and behind Taehyung’s back to cling to his shoulders.
He digs his fingers in, trying to slow things down - if only a little - and to his credit, Taehyung
obviously takes the hint because he does ease off slightly.

He’s smiling shyly, like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s chill.”

“You’re just so...” He groans a little bit, looks down at the rest of Jeongguk’s body.“So fucking
hot.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that, but it doesn’t seem like Taehyung was expecting a
response; he just wants to move onto the next thing. He stops kissing now in favour of trailing his
hot mouth up and down Jeongguk’s neck, planting little bites that have Jeongguk gasping. He licks
the skin, sucks, and it’s such an obscene sound, so vulgar. It really shouldn’t be so hot.

He feels Taehyung’s hand on his chest, fumbling for something. Then, he starts unbuttoning
Jeongguk’s shirt, and honestly, Jeongguk knows he should stop him - again, there’s nothing savory
about public stripping - but he’s also kind of at his mercy right now. Turns out having a mouth on
your neck can be distracting.

“Shit,” Jeongguk says, as he hears another button pop. “Fuck. Wait.” Taehyung doesn’t seem to
hear him though because he keeps going, although he does stop halfway; just enough to expose
Jeongguk’s collarbone, enough to uncover more territory to mark.

His mouth moves further down once again, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of Jeongguk’s
shoulders. He peppers kisses across it, light and playful and taunting, and then he’s lifting a hand
under Jeongguk’s shirt, trailing it across his bare chest, tickling it. His fingers reach up to
Jeongguk’s nipple, squeeze it slightly, and Jeongguk instinctively throws his head back, can’t help
the moan that comes out. It’s so loud. He’s in public. He shouldn’t be so loud. He shouldn’t let
Taehyung make him lose control of himself so much. He has to reign himself in. He has to--

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Taehyung’s glancing up at him through his eyelashes, looking all
innocent and coy and shit. Fuck him. Honestly, fuck this guy. He smiles a little bit, deviously.
Then, his mouth travels down even more and he flits his tongue to lick a stripe across his nipple.
Jeongguk knows he only did it to draw something out of him, to make him whimper, to have him
shudder in his hands. Jeongguk knows this, and yet what does he do? He fucking whimpers. He
trembles. Taehyung feeds off reactions, and at this point, Jeongguk is shoving a whole roast
chicken down his throat. He’s looking up again, smiling, all smug and pleased.

God, Jeongguk hates this. No, he doesn’t. Fuck. He hates that he doesn’t hate this. Why doesn’t he
hate this?

Taehyung licks his nipple again, and Jeongguk can’t even contain himself this time. He whines,
digs his fingers even harder into Taehyung’s shoulders, prays to God and Vishnu and Buddha and
the universe so that he doesn’t nut in his pants right there and then. Jesus. This is practically
pornography. Jeonguk is engaging in amateur exhibitionism. He feels so filthy all of a sudden,
because it’s not even like they’re in a room, in a secluded area: anyone could walk down these halls
right now and see them. See him. See what a mess he is, see how he’s unravelling so quickly in
Taehyung’s hands.

“Shit,” he says again, because at this point, that’s all that remains of his vocabulary. “Can we
like... at least... get a room?”

Taehyung nudges his nose against Jeongguk’s chest, smiling. “What, you getting shy on me,
Jeon?”

Jeongguk does not have time for this shit. He’ll think of so many good comebacks after this - he
promises himself. He’ll come back with tenfold energy. He’ll make Taehyung cry. But for now,
he’s mostly thinking with his rock solid dick, and not his brain, and his dick doesn’t have the
facilities to be a smartass.

“Sure,” he groans. “Yeah, whatever... go.... room... now.”

“Yessir,” Taehyung says with a laugh, grabbing Jeongguk by the wrist again before pulling him
towards the stairs.

“Do you even know your way around this place?” Jeongguk asks, because for someone who’s
walking with such confidence, Taehyung also seems to be wandering around pretty aimlessly.

“No clue,” he replies, pushing back the first door he sees. It’s a bathroom. And yes, Jeongguk
might have completely lost the plot tonight, and he might be crazy, and weak, and desperate, but he
also has standards, so:

“You’re not fucking me in a shower,” he gripes. Taehyung raises an eyebrow in amusement, a grin
starting to form on his mouth. “No, Kim. No dice. No fucking way.”

“Come on...” He sounds so excited, like it’ll be some sort of fun challenge, some kind of adventure.
Jesus Christ. There’s actually something wrong with this guy. Like dropped-on-his-head-as-a-baby
type of wrong.

Jeongguk juts out his chin, levels him with a stubborn stare of his own. “Nope.”

“Jesus, fine. Ok.” He huffs a little, like the petulant child he is, and then Jeongguk’s being dragged
across the landing again.

The next room does have a bed, but they don’t even get that far because as soon as they enter,
Taehyung’s pushing him up against the wall again, and Jeongguk just lets him because... well.
Because. He’s trying not to overthink things too much lest his brain explodes. Maybe this doesn’t
have to be a power thing. It’s just sex. Jeongguk can enjoy this; Jeongguk should enjoy this. At the
moment, that’s the only redeeming thing about this whole scenario: at least it feels good.

They make out for a little bit, and then Taehyung’s pulling back. There’s a moment of stillness, in
which he seems to be contemplating something, and then he’s pressing the pad of his thumb
against Jeongguk’s lips, a wordless invitation. He watches in silent reverence as Jeongguk sucks on
it, a small smile forming on his face as he leans over to Jeongguk’s ear. “Good boy,” he whispers.

And in that moment, Jeongguk forgets how to breathe. His windpipe collapses. This is it: this is
how he dies. Maybe he was naive to think this wouldn’t be a power thing; it always is with
Taehyung. He wants to clear his throat, wants to compose himself again - stand up straighter - but
the dynamic has already been established: Taehyung has control because Jeongguk gave it to him.
He has no one to blame but himself. All he can do now is grapple.

“You gonna put me on a leash, Kim?” he teases.

Taehyung presses a kiss to the corner of Jeongguk’s lips with his own upturned mouth. “Don’t
tempt me.” And then his hands are jumping off Jeongguk’s body and onto his zip. “Suck me off.”

This fucking guy and his fucking orders - acting like Jeongguk’s gonna comply without questions,
acting like Jeongguk’s gonna drop on his knees for him because he asked. Scary thing is, Jeongguk
just might.

“What, I don’t get a please?” he laughs.

“Sure. With a cherry on top.” Taehyung kisses him again. “Wanna see what those pretty lips can
do.” Oh yeah - weak knees all the fucking way.

He slowly sinks to the floor as Taehyung undoes his slacks and pulls down his boxers. And then,
suddenly Jeongguk is eye-level with and staring right at his penis, and honestly, it’s a bit comical,
the way it’s just millimetres from his face with no warning. It’s also surprisingly big. Like
Taehyung’s fingers, it’s long, but there’s also girth to it, something thick and tangible about it.

Looking at it is weirdly grounding. Now that Jeongguk isn’t being bewitched by Taehyung’s
hands, he’s reminded of the fact that this is indeed happening, and that he’ll have to face the
consequences after all of it is over. This isn’t a one-night-stand. He lives with Taehyung. He can’t
ignore him, or ghost him, or give him a fake number. Whatever happens in this room, he has to be
okay with it - has to be able to live with - because he can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. Taehyung
may be able to, but he can’t.

Taehyung looks down at him, amused. “You know, it doesn’t bite,” he says.

“You tryna give me ideas, Kim?” Jeongguk shoots back, wrapping a hand around it. He likes how
Taehyung shudders a little bit at the contact.

“Oh, god no. Don’t bite my dick. Please and thank you.”

“Mhmm, since you asked so nicely...” He presses a small kiss to the shaft, which makes Taehyung
snort, but he can tell by the way his thighs shake that it turned him on a little bit. He takes that as
his cue to place his lips over the head and start sucking.

A sharp gasp escapes Taehyung’s mouth, and his hands automatically come up to the back of
Jeongguk’s head. At first, they don’t really do anything - just idly play with Jeongguk’s hair - but
as the pace quickens, they start pushing Jeongguk further, deeper, forcing him to take more of it in.
Just more, and more, and more. At this point, Jeongguk’s not even controlling his own movements
anymore, Taehyung’s just fucking into his mouth. He knows that if he tries to fight it, he might
very well end up accidentally chomping down on his dick, so he lets his jaw go lax and just kneels
there, sitting pretty, taking it like the bitch he is.

God, is that what he’s becoming? Is he Taehyung’s bitch?

He feels tears start to well at the corner of his eyes, although he just attributes that to the fact that
he’s nearly gagged several times in the last minute, and not to his sudden cripplingly low self-
esteem. Taehyung seems alarmed though when he notices, and transforms from being a BDSM
advocator to his mum in like three seconds.

“Shit, are you okay?” he says, taking his cock out of his mouth so Jeongguk can reply.

“Mmm hmm,” Jeongguk mumbles, because humiliation has a way of paralysing the tongue.

“You sure?” he says warily.

“Yup. Grand. Stellar.”

Taehyung shoots him a look, seeming unsure himself. “You know, we don’t have to do this... if
you don’t want to.”

Jesus, Jeongguk wishes he could hate him. Well, at least more consistently. But that’s hard to do
when he flips between being the biggest dick on the earth to being very much not-a-dick. What is
Jeongguk supposed to make of that? What’s he supposed to do with that?

He tries to give him a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. And I want to. It’s chill. Just don’t, erm, don’t
grab my head like that next time. Or ask me... or something.” He knows it’s not even an
unreasonable request - consent being important and all - but saying it out loud just makes him feel
weirdly pathetic, like he’s trying to make negotiations with someone who already has all the
leverage. He feels like a child.

“Yeah.” Taehyung swallows. “Sorry.”

Jeongguk wants this lavishly expensive carpet to swallow him up. “It’s fine.”

“Okay... sure?”

“Yeah. It’s cool.”

“Cool.”

And then Taehyung’s back to smiling. He pulls Jeongguk up so he’s standing again - but not for
long, because seconds later, Jeongguk’s being leaned on against the wall, and honestly, it doesn’t
even surprise him anymore. It’s weird though, how quickly Taehyung’s moods change. There must
be a switch somewhere; Jeongguk’s calling it.

“You’re so hot Jeon,” Taehyung’s murmuring against his lips, and Jeongguk has to focus really
hard on using his lungs. “So fucking hot.”

“Wish I could return the compliment,” Jeongguk says, except they’re not really words as much as
they are whispered breaths escaping from his lips. Eugh, he hates feeling flustered. Honestly, this
whole night is more trouble than it’s worth. He should just call it quits, lock himself in that
bathroom and give himself a quick, sad handjob: way less stressful.

Taehyung laughs a little, his mouth sucking at Jeongguk’s jawline. His lungs are quickly losing the
ability to function. “So mouthy.”

“That’s me,” Jeongguk replies. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too strained, too wrecked.

“Let’s see how mouthy you are when I’m inside you.”

Oh god. Forget lungs. Jeongguk needs a ventilator. Jeongguk needs emergency hospital aid. He
can’t help but feel like he’s hovering dangerously close to a fire. Because there is an element of
danger to this, whatever ‘this’ is, whatever it is they’re doing. Jeongguk kind of doesn’t want this
night to end, doesn’t want to know what comes next. After this. What he becomes to Taehyung.

He tries not to think about it too much as they move from the wall towards the bed - it won’t do
him any good. Also, there must be a tiny (big) part of Jeongguk that likes feeling small, being
manhandled, being tossed around like a doll, because when Taehyung throws him on top of the
mattress, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more turned on in his life.

“Wait,” Jeongguk gasps, his hand slipping behind Taehyung’s neck as he presses down on him,
smothers him. He doesn’t - obviously. His touches are relentless, and his mouth is on Jeongguk’s
throat, and it feels like he’s drowning in the heat. “J-Jesus,” he murmurs. “What happened to I’ll
only kiss you if you want me to.”

That makes Taehyung pause, if only for a second, if only for a miniscule moment of hesitation.
Then, he’s smiling, but there’s no bravado behind it, just shyness. He really has no business
looking like that, making Jeongguk’s pulse stutter like that.

He leans forwards so their foreheads are touching, eyes millimetres away - wide, and curious and
staring. “Want to?” he asks, and Jeongguk nearly laughs because it's a bit too late for that now.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung moves away again, something soft in his eyes as he does. “Yeah, right where I
want you.”

God, he’s totally Taehyng’s bitch, isn’t he? He should hate this. Why doesn’t he hate this?

Taehyung stares down at his jeans. “You’re way too clothed right now.”

Jeongguk shrugs, leaning back against the headboard. Is this velvet? Damn. Woojin’s parents are
definitely in the mafia. Jeongguk doesn’t care what Yugyeom thinks he knows: this is mafia money
right here. “Not my job to take care of.”

“Jesus, okay,” Taehyung snorts. Jeongguk doesn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he thought
that would be a way to gain back some ground, to not feel as hopeless. Maybe he didn’t want to
deal with Taehyung towering over him, watching him as he undressed, but watching Taehyung
undress him is far worse in comparison; he keeps kissing him everywhere. On his bare chest, on
his ribcage, on the inside of his fucking thigh. Is this what having your body worshipped feels like?
Because Jeongguk’s heart won’t stop hammering, and that can’t be healthy.

“Take your time,” he says as Taehyung plants another open-mouthed kiss on his shoulder before
finally unbuttoning his shirt. It’s not even the kissing he’s averse to particularly, it’s just... strange.
Too soft. For what they’re doing. Whatever it is they’re doing. This feels more like boyfriend
terrority, not two housemates making a big mistake. It’s too tender. And Jeongguk... shit, Jeongguk
really doesn’t hate it. He wishes he did. He wishes he didn’t lean into the touch so instinctively, so
readily. He really doesn’t need to be getting any ideas.
“I intend to,” Taehyung murmurs back, his lips vibrating against Jeongguk’s skin as his hands hug
him at the hips. “You’re so pretty.”

And let the heart hammering commence.

“You work out much?” Taehyung asks, staring at his chest.

“Why, do you think I do?”

He cracks a grin. “Simple yes or no answer, Jeon - don’t know why you struggle so much with
those.”

Jeongguk shrugs, before conceding. Because he’s weak. Because something about the way
Taehyung looks at him makes his resolve buckle at the knee. “I swim.” That’s practically all he did
during the summer as a kid, since the ocean was a stone’s throw away.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, like he’s satisfied with that response, like it makes sense in his head. He
traipses a hand across Jeongguk’s navel. “Yeah, you’ve got a swimmer’s body.”

Jesus, can they just get to fucking already? Sex Jeongguk can do. Not whatever the hell this is. He
doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know where to put his hands. He wishes Taehyung would
stop looking at him all the time. Those fucking eyes.

Suddenly, Taehyung’s hands stop moving, and something shifts in his gaze. There’s got to be a
switch. Jeongguk is like a hundred percent certain there’s a switch. Maybe at the back of his neck
or something...

“Do you think Woojin keeps lube in here?” Taehyung asks, looking around the room.

“I don’t know, honestly, this has more guest room vibes,” Jeongguk says, staring at the plain walls
- they’re bereft of colour or personalisation. “So I doubt it.” Taehyung starts opening the bedside
cabinets anyway. “I’m honestly surprised you don’t have any - you totally seem like the type of
guy to carry that shit around with you.”

“Why? Because I’m a noncomittal fuck boy?”

“I mean, I was gonna say organised.” He was not. “But yeah, I guess.” Jeongguk shrugs. “Your
words though, not mine.”

Taehyung snorts. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply though because he doubts Taehyung cares enough for a response anyway.
He doubts he worries about Jeongguk’s opinion of him.

“Bam!” Taehyung says, his hands emerging victorious from the quagmire with a bottle of lube and
some condoms. “Guess the guests have fun too.”

“This house is a brothel,” Jeongguk mutters, and Taehyung’s walking back, laughing as he does so.

Then, he’s slicking his fingers up with lube and Jeongguk can’t help but get a buzz of excitement.
It’s not like he’s been fantasizing about Taehyung’s hands or anything, but that said, his hands are
definitely fantasy-material. They’re so long. Jeongguk wonders if they could reach his prostate.
He’s never had a prostate orgasm before. Oh god, he wants them in him.

“Open wide,” Taehyung says, patting Jeongguk’s crossed legs with his other hand.
Jeongguk gives him a withering look. “That’s... so gross. Never say that again. Ever.” He does
‘open’ them up though, and leans back even further, tries to get comfortable.

His breath hitches slightly when he feels the first finger press gently against his entrance. And then
it’s pushing inside him and all of Jeongguk’s suspicions are confirmed: definitely long. His whole
body goes tense, but slowly relaxes, his muscle loosening as he closes his eyes, focusing purely on
the sensation, on the burn. Taehyung adds another finger, and Jeongguk moans, muffles the sound
with the back of his hand. God, it feels so good. Taehyung’s fingers seem to move even deeper
inside of him. He doesn’t understand how that’s possible, doesn’t see how there’s still any room
left, not with the way they fill him like this. He feels like he’s being stretched out, utterly,
completely, being laid bare, turned inside out. He feels so good.

Then, Taehyung tilts his fingers slightly, changes the angle. They rub against Jeongguk’s prostate
and for a good second, he’s pretty sure he blacks out. Sees stars. Whatever. Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck.

“Do that again,” Jeongguk says. Taehyung gives him an unimpressed look, like he’s waiting for
something, and Jeongguk actually can’t believe this guy because he has his fingers inside him: this
is neither the time nor the place to demand politeness. However, he knows that being snarky about
it might make Taehyung stop - he’s definitely petty enough to try that shit - and he’s not about to
be denied of one of the world’s greatest pleasures, so he tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice
when he adds, “Please?”

“All you had to say,” Taehyung purrs. This fucking guy.

He makes good on his word though, and massages his prostate again. And again. And again. It’s
kind of overwhelmingly relentless in the best way possible. Jeongguk is shaking. Jeongguk can’t
believe he’s never done this before. Question: why has he never done this before? Answer: his
fingers are way too short and un-elegant - it’s always been out-of-reach, quite literally. But still. He
could achieve the same thing with a sex toy right? Yeah. Yeah, he’s so buying a sex toy after this.
Like, first thing tomorrow.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. He’s put his arm across his mouth, because he’s just become aware of how
loud he’s being. He knows Taehyung probably loves it - if only because he sees it as a reflection of
his own sexual prowess - but Jeongguk would rather not traumatise anyone else on the landing.
“Nng... fuck... oh my god.” Taehyung’s snickering a bit now, and Jeongguk kind of wants to punch
him in the face. Or, maybe not. Because it is funny. Just a little bit. Like, the tiniest, tiniest bit.
“Shut up,” he says, but he’s laughing slightly himself. Then, Taehyung crooks his fingers again,
and Jeongguk nearly sobs. “Jesus, just... yeah. Oh god. There. There, Tae. Shit.”

The orgasm washes over his body in waves. Multiple. He feels like he’s drowning it in, in the
intensity, in the shudders. When he finally comes down from it, Taehyung is smiling at him. “It’s
called milking,” he says.

Jeongguk just looks at him. The fuck? “... what?”

Taehyung blanches for a moment. “No, as in, it’s an actual phrase. I’m not just, like, likening you
to a cow or anything. Prostate milking. Look it up.”

“I most certainly will not,” Jeongguk assures him, but the guy seems set on convincing him of its
validity.

“See, the liquid that just came out, it doesn’t actually have sperm it in, ‘cuz there was no penile
stimulation-”
“Dude,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t make this weird. Or like, biological. It felt nice, let’s leave it at
that. How do you know all that shit anyway?”

“I own the kamasutra.”

Of course he does. That’s exactly the type of thing some liberal, artsy rich kid would own. His
parents probably read it to him while he was falling asleep. The rest of the Korean population grew
up on stories about superheroes and talking animals; meanwhile, Taehyung was being trained in
foreplay.

Jeongguk gives him a look. “Really?”

“No,” he deadpans.

“Oh,” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung narrows his eyes. “Yeah...”

“Just seemed like a weird thing to joke about...”

“I mean, didn’t think you’d take it seriously, so.”

“It’s, like, way too specific an example? Pretty believable too.”

“Sure.”

“Like seventy percent. You look the type.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah...”

“Uh huh.”

“Cool.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Jeongguk says, “Sure...”

Taehyung stares at him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That.”

“This?”

“Stop.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself as he leans back, feeling a bit more comfortable, in his element.
Probably says a lot about his relationship with Taehyung if he feels most at ease when he’s pissing
the other off. Probably says a lot about him as a person. He stretches like a cat while Taehyung
watches him with no amusement in his eyes, which only makes him laugh more.

“You’re so difficult,” the older boy says.

Jeongguk scoffs, because he can’t believe Taehyung felt like he could say those words to
him. Taehyung. “That’s very rich coming from you. Very rich. 24-karat shit.”

“Yeah, okay.” Taehyung grabs him at the waist again, pulling Jeongguk towards him so he can
climb on top of him and start kissing. Without the sex-fuelled fervor and urgency from before, the
whole thing feels slightly unnatural, in all honesty - boyfriend terriority - but not uncomfortable
enough to stop Jeongguk from kissing back.

After a while, Taehyung pulls away and latches his mouth onto Jeongguk’s earlobe to suck at the
piercings there. He wasn’t really aware of how many he had until now, feeling Taehyung toying
with them, tonguing at the metal. It’s strangely hot.

“So, do you just have a thing for needles or...?” Taehyung’s lips are right over his ear, and
Jeongguk can’t help but shudder involuntarily. “Because there are funner ways to satisfy that.”

“Heroin?”

“Amongst others.”

“Nope, I just like putting surgical steel into my body,” Jeongguk replies.

“Uh huh.” He nibbles a little bit on his lobe, smiles when Jeongguk gasps. “You wanna get any
more?”

“Not really.” Well. “I, uh... I kind of want a nipple piercing.”

Taehyung groans like that’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard, and honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t
know what to make of that, feels like he has to backpedal a little bit. “Erm yeah. I mean, it would
be fun to play with, I guess... but they hurt like a bitch. And they take like twelve months to heal
properly. And I don’t know if I want a ring or a barbell, so. I mean, I don’t know. Probably not...”

Taehyung gives him a quizzical smile, and then kisses his neck. “You should get one,” he says,
with such conviction, as if his words have any effect on Jeongguk’s actions. Except honestly,
Jeongguk’s considering it now because forget prostate orgasms: imagine what Taehyung and a
nipple piercing could do for him. Oh, the possibilities. The endless, horny possibilities.

“We’ll see,” Jeongguk says, and he doesn’t know why. He makes it sound like there will be a next
time. There is no next time. He knows that. He was expecting that; Taehyung’s impulsive, and
Jeongguk’s just his newest toy until he gets bored of him, but it’s alright because at least he’s
getting something out of this too. Milking, and all that good shit. It’s okay. He’s okay.

It’s fine.

This is the one time Jeongguk’s kind of grateful that Taehyung’s hands are so good at distracting.
He tunes his thoughts out, and focuses on them instead, gets lost in the way they trail up and down
his body, like they’re cherishing him. “So fucking hot, Jeon,” Taehyung murmurs as he strokes his
face and Jeongguk, fuck, Jeongguk can’t help but lean into it.

“Heard you the first time,” he whispers, but he’s just trying to save face and they both know it.
He’s still so hard, so gone. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

“Yeah okay,” Taehyung laughs. Then, he’s peeling himself away from Jeongguk to rise up, and the
sudden loss of heat almost makes Jeongguk whimper. Almost. At least he retains that one scrap of
dignity. He’s about to ask what the older boy is doing but he hears the tear of the condom packet
and figures that the question is a bit redundant now.
He stays deathly still as he listens to the rustle of the latex, as Taehyung slides it on. He kind of
doesn’t want this to be over just yet. Not even because he feels happy right now, feels good, but
because he really doesn’t want to have to deal with what comes next. The awkwardness. He and
Taehyung aren’t even friends - not really. They just sort of bully each other. What if everything
changes after tonight? If they lose the banter, then what do they have left? Long silences?
Uncomfortable interactions? Yeah, okay, maybe this night wasn’t worth it, prostate orgasm and all.
He should’ve thought this out, should’ve weighed things up a bit more. He’s stupid. He’s so
fucking stupid.

“Jeon, you okay?” Taehyung’s voice says. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“‘M good.” He’s very much far from good. He’s not about to cry over it now though. He dug his
grave; he made his bed. Might as well go all the way. “Cute that you care, Kim.”

“I don’t. Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out or anything. Can’t have sex with an
unconscious body - my future is too bright to be ruined by any undesirable prison sentences.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk says. “Well, you know what’s in my future? A dick up my ass. It would be
great if we could get to that part please.”

“So crass,” Taehyung says, although he snorts, an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Have some class,
Jeon.”

“Have some speed.”

“Have some patience.” He slicks the condom up with some lube, and then he’s lining himself up
with Jeongguk, tugging him closer. He looks down at Jeongguk as he pushes in, and there’s
something so intense about his eyes, so sincere that Jeongguk has to look away, up at the ceiling.
Yeah, the ceiling’s interesting. He tries to calm himself down a little because it’s so dumb how the
smallest things set him off, make his heart hammer like this. He reads too much into things, he
knows that. Taehyung probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and here Jeongguk is nearly
tearing up because of how he looked at him. So fucking dumb.

They both groan softly as Taehyung bottoms out, and then he starts moving - slowly to begin with.
He keeps staring at Jeongguk, and yeah fair enough, that’s probably what you do with someone
when you’re having sex, but it’s just so... Jeongguk doesn’t even know what it is, how to describe
it. It’s just something. And it’s making him nervous.

With no warning, Taehyung places his hands on either side of Jeongguk’s head and then he’s
sinking down so his mouth is right over Jeongguk’s ear. And then he whispers, “You’re beautiful,”
and this time, Jeongguk actually does think he stops breathing. Like, completely. Because no boy
has ever said that to him before - so unironically, so earnestly. He can handle ‘hot’, and ‘sexy’. He
can handle rough hands and quick fucks. He can handle everything except this because what the
hell is this? What’s he supposed to think? What does Taehyung want him to think? It feels like he’s
playing mind games with him, trying to make him feel small. Or maybe Jeongguk’s just doing that
to himself.

Because clearly Taehyung isn’t affected. It’s like he didn’t even register what he said because the
second afterwards, he’s leaning away again, grabbing Jeongguk’s hips, quickening the pace.
Meanwhile, Jeongguk feels like all the strength has left him. Why does he care so much, when
Taehyung doesn’t? He should be fine because it doesn’t mean anything. Why can’t he just let
himself believe that? None of this means anything. He should just relax, and lay back and enjoy
this while it lasts. It doesn’t matter; none of this matters. He should-
“So fucking gorgeous, Jeon,” Taehyung says. “Look at you. So good, shit.”

He really needs to stop talking. Because with every compliment he gives, every look, every
goddamn fucking kiss, Jeongguk feels like he’s being pressed more and more against the matress,
feels like his chest is constricting. Taehyung’s hands are everywhere again, and they’re merciless -
on his thighs, on his chest, on his jaw. It’s so overwhelming; it’s so much; it’s so good. It shouldn’t
feel this good. Jeongguk shouldn’t like this so much, being backed up against a wall, being owned
like this. But god, he does. He wants it. He really hates that he wants it.

It’s not even Taehyung’s fault - how he’s feeling right now. He did this to himself, all of this,
because he secretly wants it - to feel small, to be held down. He wants to be Taehyung’s bitch. This
was such a bad idea. From the start, he should’ve known: red flags everywhere. He did this to
himself.

He comes first, but Taehyung just continues pounding into him, and he doesn’t even have the
strength to stop him. He just lies there and takes it, like he’s been doing this whole time. Just sitting
pretty and taking it. The oversensitivity is enough to make tears spring in Jeongguk’s eyes, but he’ll
be damned if he actually cries tonight - he’s not adding another failure to the list - so he screws
them shut, prays for everything to just end soon. It eventually does, with Taehyung giving a
satisfied moan as he climaxes. He goes to tie up the condom and throw it in the bin, and when he
comes back, he’s got his dopey smile on his face, like he’s riding a high. Jeongguk kind of wants to
punch him.

They get dressed again relatively quietly, and then Taehyung moves his mouth to speak but
honestly, the last thing Jeongguk wants is to have to talk to him. He really can’t handle that right
now.

“So-”

“I’m gonna go find Yuygeom.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Taehyung looks at him, but there’s something blank about his eyes. Jeongguk can’t for the life of
him figure out what he’s feeling right now and eugh, he hates that. “Okay,” the older boy says.

“Yeah...”

“Cool.”

Jeongguk stands up from the bed. “I’ll erm... see you later, then.”

“Yup.”

“... yeah.”

He doesn’t even bother looking for Yuygeom. At the moment, the only thing he has eyes for is the
front door, which he barrells through as soon as he finds his coat. There’s something very sobering
about being hit with the cold evening air, about being out in the real world again, not that sobering
up is really what Jeongguk wants right now. That’ll only fuel his brain, and he’s already thinking
about how royally he just fucked up. Bad idea. From the start. Red flags everywhere. Because
come tomorrow, what will he be to Taehyung? A trophy. A conquest. A challenge complete. Shit.
He did this to himself.

He’s definitely going to regret it.

 Chapter Three
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

And let the regret ensue:

If Jeongguk found Taehyung hard to tolerate before, now he’s actually insufferable. It’s the small
things really, like how Taehyung will interrupt him mid-sentence; he used to do that before
anyway, but it was more deliberate then, more playful, a way to get Jeongguk to pay attention to
him and his shit-eating grin. Now, he just does it without thinking, without considering, and
honestly, that hurts more. He still steals popcorn from Jeongguk’s bowl, but he’s so offhand about
it, like he thinks Jeongguk won’t care, like Jeongguk won’t object. Which, he doesn’t, so he
guesses Taehyung isn’t the only one to blame, but still. Standing up to someone requires having
some confidence that they’ll at least take you seriously. And Jeongguk lost that guarantee when he
basically gave Taehyung all the power. All for some fucking milking: not worth it. Seriously not
worth it. He’s counting down the nine months he still has in this building, day by day. Times are
tough.

So yeah, things are weird between them now. And by weird, he means he feels weird, and
Taehyung most likely doesn’t notice, which just makes him feel weirder. And confused, and pissed
off. Mostly pissed off. Fuck him honestly. Maybe he doesn’t feel comfortable being as outspoken
around Taehyung anymore, but he can still be passive-aggressive. Yeah, he can wear passive-
aggressive real well. Fuck. Him.

About a week after the party, Jeongguk is doing some homework at the bar table when he hears a
bedroom door swing open and close. Then, Taehyung waltzes in, grinning at Jeongguk like they’re
buddies. God, this guy.

“Morning,” he says, although his smile falters slightly when Jeongguk only nods in return. “Okay,
don’t say it back then.”

Jeongguk doesn’t. He doesn’t even look at him, just continues with his maths like he’s not there.
He didn’t even realise how petty he could be until he knew that people like Taehyung existed in
this world: entitled pricks.

Taehyung walks over to the sofa and flops down on it, louder than he needed to; Jeongguk feels his
eyebrow involuntarily twitch. He wishes he could focus on calculus, but suddenly, his senses have
been heightened and every small thing that Taehyung does in his periphery seems to increasingly
aggravate him.

“Hey,” Taehyung tries again, although he sounds less brazen this time. “Do you want to talk?”

Jeongguk grips his pen harder. Differentiation. Focus on the differentiation. “About?”

“About that night. At Woojin’s.”

Jeongguk glances over at him to see if he’s kidding. He is not. Oh boy. “What’s there to talk
about?”

“Okay...” Taehyung swallows a little, and Jeongguk tries real hard not to watch his Adam’s apple
bob up and down as he does so. “I just thought there might be something you wanted to get off
your chest-”
“Nope.”

“But, I mean, if you’re good-”

“Sure.”

“Then it’s fine. I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah...”

Conversation over; Jeongguk returns to calculus. But then Taehyung opens his mouth again: “I just
feel like maybe we should-”

“Jesus Christ.”

“-I don’t know, like, discuss it.”

Jeongguk puts down his pen before he can do something he’ll regret with it. “Okay...”

“I just.” Taehyung sighs a little. “I feel like you’re mad at me.”

Perceptive motherfucker. Maybe Jeongguk needs to tone down the ‘aggressive’ part of passive-
aggressive. “No.”

“Okay, but like, you are?”

“Nope.”

“Jeongguk.” Is that exasperation he detects in Taehyung’s voice? This should be fun. “Tell me why
you’re mad at me.”

He’s looking straight at him now, so Jeongguk feels compelled to reply. Except he sort of really
doesn’t want to. Even now, faced with the opportunity to absolutely slate the guy, there’s a part of
him that feels embarrassed. Because it is embarrassing in a way, to admit that Taehyung got under
his skin like that, that he made him feel so crap about himself.

“I just feel like you’ve been, I don’t know, treating me differently. Since Woojin’s. Like we’re not
equals anymore. You act like nothing you do to me will be questioned - like you have the final say
- and you keep touching me like you have the right to, and like, talking over me. I don’t know. It’s
annoying.”

Taehyung’s silent for a moment. “Sorry.”

Jeongguk shrugs, hopes his face isn’t heating up. “It’s fine.”

“I mean, it isn’t. I didn’t... yeah, I didn’t notice, I guess. Just thought you were being quieter than
usual, not that I was being more imposing.” When Jeongguk doesn’t reply, he continues talking.
“Guess it’s harder to treat as an equal when I see you more as...”

“Your bitch,” Jeongguk finishes.

There’s a beat of silence, then: “No.”

“Yes.”
“... no.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus.” Yeah, definitely exasperation. “It’s just... you’re just... okay, how do I phrase this? You’re
like the perfect sub.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s like... most of the time, you’re so cocky-”

“Oh, thank you.”

“No, I mean...” Taehyung gives him a look. “This is going to be hard to explain if you keep
interrupting me, Jeon.”

“Kind of hard not to when you keep tripping over your words, Kim.”

“Fuck me. See. This is what I mean. You’re like so... alpha. I don’t know. Trying to throw your
weight around all the fucking time, prove your worth or whatever. Picking fights with me.”

Jeongguk blinks at him. Is he serious right now? “I don’t pick fights-”

“But then, when you’re in bed, you’re like so submissive. And compliant.” And Jeongguk can’t
really argue with that so he opts to just stare harder at Taehyung as if that will intimidate him in
any way. “It’s a power thing, I guess. I don’t know. Get a kick out of having a strong guy willingly
under me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t really trust himself to look at Taehyung as he speaks, or else he’ll blush - and
he’ll never forgive himself if he relinquishes more power to him - so he picks up the pen again,
turns to the neglected calculus. “And you’re saying all this because...?”

“Because. Kind of want to do it again. So I’m trying to make amendments.” Jeongguk listens to
him stand up from the sofa and walk over. And then, the ghost of his hands are on his waist. When
Jeongguk doesn’t object, he leans forwards - chest pressed against Jeongguk’s back - and rests his
head in the little nook of his shoulder. “Kind of hard to do that when you’re so insistent on being
mad at me,” he murmurs. His mouth is right next to Jeongguk’s ear, so he feels it rather than hears
it. Tickles.

“I’m not mad,” Jeongguk mumbles back, which is true to be honest. He was before - simmering -
but that’s kind of hard to maintain now that Taehyung is being not-a-dick. “It’s cool. We’re cool.”

“Cool.” He gives Jeongguk a chaste kiss on the shell of his ear, and if he notices Jeongguk shudder
slightly, he doesn’t mention it. “Alright.”

Then, he’s walking back to his bedroom, and Jeongguk is trying real hard not to miss his hands.
His words burn in Jeongguk’s mind: Kind of want to do it again.

‘Again’, it turns out, doesn’t actually happen for at least another month. Surprisingly though,
Jeongguk doesn’t find himself wondering that much, about the next time. It’ll happen when it
happens, and maybe it’ll be good if it doesn’t happen for a while because he feels like his
relationship with Taehyung has been muddy for the start. Now at least, the water’s clearer. Now, he
actually knows the guy a little better, learns he studies Korean and English Literature, and honestly,
if there was ever a subject that matched his personality, that would be it: hard for no reason and
stupidly confusing.

“You don’t like literature?” Taehyung laughs, when he tells him his theory.

“Fuck literature. Why do you like literature?” Jeongguk says. “There’s too much ambiguity. And
Lit students are actually the worst. Always making assumptions and ‘analysing’ things based on
the narrow tunnel of their own experiences just so they can feel uppity about themselves. Like
congrats, you’ve read The Cloud Dream of the Nine. Have a trophy.”

“Jesus, who hurt you?”

“The Korean language,” Jeongguk sulks. “Maths is better. Like, hands down. You’ve got a process
to follow, steps to guide you. There’s a definite, concrete answer at the end of it, none of this ‘to
some extent’ bullshit. It’s heaven.”

“Guess it depends how your brain is wired.”

“I think you misunderstood me: maths is better objectively.”

Taehyung looks at him like he’s an adorable, amusing child. “Sure.” They work in silence for a
few minutes, and then Taehyung is speaking up again. “Do you know why books are so cool?”

Jeongguk nearly throws up. “As if that sentence just came out of your mouth.”

Taehyung continues, undeterred. “Because every detail adds up, and everything has significance,
you know? So when the author tells me that a character has a butterfly tattoo, or an estranged older
brother, they’re not just haphazard facts - they serve for something. Because in life, nothing means
anything, but in literature, everything means something.”

“Damn, that’s some nihilistic shit, Kim. You do have a way with words though, you ever think of
writing?”

“I do. I just don’t show anyone.” Taehyung realises his mistake when he sees the curious grin on
Jeongguk’s face. “You least of all,” he laughs. “You’d just bully me for it.”

“I would not,” Jeongguk says, aghast.

“You would. You literally just shat on everything that I love for a minute straight.”

“Because literature is shit. Films are a better medium through and through. But, but.” He raises a
finger to stop Taehyung from rolling his eyes. “Maybe your stuff would be less shit. So.”

There’s a pause. “Maybe,” the older boy says, and then goes back to reading, but Jeongguk feels
like he’s had a victory.

Sure enough, later that day, when he’s eating at the bar, Taehyung silently slides a notebook across
the counter to him and then walks away. Jeongguk can’t help but smile as he opens it. It’s filled
with short story after short story, mostly in Korean, some in English. There are these little doodles
dotted around the pages, and Jeongguk imagines Taehyung in a lecture, drowning out the professor,
absentmindedly tracing them. This is so cool. He feels like he’s in his brain.

To give him credit where credit is due, the stories are good. Probably. They appear to be
allegorical - because the plots themselves seem too simple to be taken at face value - so Jeongguk
feels like he’d probably be able to appreciate more if he actually knew the messages behind them,
but the writing style’s cool - very artsy. Lowkey pretentious, but it’s very much Taehyung and
Jeongguk likes that. It’s not really about the stories anyway - he’s mostly just pleased that
Taehyung thought enough of him to share them with him. That he trusted him enough.

They really went about this whole friendship thing backwards, considering everything that’s
happened between them already, but now at least Jeongguk can consider him as one - a friend.

It only took him a good month of self-induced solitude to realise that maybe he actually should
socialise with the people he’s going to school with, but he’s making up for that now by committing
to way too much; he knows no balance. It’s fun though, having things to do, not being cooped up in
his dorm room all day. He’s joined the film club. He goes swimming occasionally. He got a job - a
very badly-paid one, but being a cashier is easy enough, and he gets an employee discount, and it’s
only five minutes’ walk away from campus, so there’s that. It’s also only five minutes’ away from
campus, which means he basically sees the entire student body in the space of a shift, and they get
to see him in return wearing the stupidly lurid green apron that he has to call his uniform, even
though it’s a fucking abomination, so... there’s also that. Money is money; that’s what he tells
himself to stop the tears when he has to put it on.

On the bright side, he’s managed to get to know quite a lot of people that go to Sunyeong through
it - especially regulars - and it’s nice walking between classes, or going to the leisure centre, and
actually recognising people, having mutual friends with someone and being able to start up a
conversation with them.

During one of the less hectic evening shifts, he’s busy entertaining himself by pressing random
buttons on the register when he hears: “Jeon?”

He looks up to see Taehyung walking towards him, basket in hand. “Dude, you work here?”

“You shop here?” Jeongguk replies.

“Yeah, this place is amazing - it has everything.” He watches Jeongguk as he scans his items.
“Why do I feel like you’re secretly judging my purchases?”

“Because I am?” Jeongguk replies. “Chilli Heatwave Doritos? Really? Tangy Cheese is so much
better; Tangy Cheese eats Chilli Heatwave for breakfast.”

“Can you just ring me up and be thankful I’m contributing to your wages?”

“Fine. Sure.” He counts Taehyung’s money and gives him his change.

He’s waiting for the receipt to print when Taehyung asks, “When does your shift end?”

“In twenty minutes, why?”

“Have dinner with me.” Whoa. What? What ? Taehyung obviously sees the alarm in Jeongguk’s
face so he tries to explain himself. “Not like... that. I mean, I was already going to head to Kim’s
Bulgogi after this.”

Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow at him quizzically. “What, by yourself?”

“Yes. What, can a man not barbecue alone?”

“No - fucking weirdo.”

Taehyung snorts. “Okay, all the more reason for you to join me then. Could use the company.”

Jeongguk considers it for a moment. “You gonna pay for my food?”

“Sure, you little shit, I’ll pay.”

“Gonna make your wallet weep.”

“I don’t doubt it.” The older boy checks the time on his phone. “Twenty minutes, yeah?”

“Twenty minutes,” Jeongguk confirms. “You’ll wait?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” There’s a little smile teasing at Taehyung’s lips, and for those two fleeting seconds,
Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat. Shit.

“You can, erm, wait in the staffroom - it’s at the other end of the shop past the ready meal section.
Don’t take any of the mints on the desk because even though there’s a million and one of them,
somehow my boss will know, and he will come for my head. So.”

“Duly noted,” Taehyung nods. “No fresh breath today.”

“God knows you need the help,” Jeongguk sighs, with a sad shake of his head.

“I know - sorry for the future oral suffering you’re going to have to endure.”

“Stay two metres away and we’ll be okay.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Taehyung says, with a wink. He smiles when Jeongguk laughs. God,
this guy. So fucking pleased with himself all the time, so shameless, but Jeongguk feeds that part of
him so he can’t really complain. He also doesn’t hate it. So.

“Go, you’re holding up the queue,” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung looks behind him, at the other two customers who are using the self-service machines.
“There’s no one else here,” he whispers.

"Go," Jeongguk mouths.

"Fine,” he mouths back, and then he’s picking up his shopping bag and sauntering towards the
other end of the shop.

Jimin, his co-worker returning from his break, sidles up to him to turn the second register on. “If
you’re done flirting with the customers,” he says, “the rice in aisle two needs restocking.”

Aside from Jeongguk, Jimin is (surprisingly) the only other uni student working here so they
bonded quite quickly. They go quite well in the sense that Jimin is the perfect employee - diligent,
saccharine smile, does everything with care and precision - and Jeongguk is the exact opposite. He
loves having shifts with him because he knows that with any task he does, Jimin will undoubtedly
redo it for him five minutes afterwards. It’s not even dependent on the quality of his work either -
Jimin’s just a meticulous little freak - so if he’s grown sloppier with the shelf displays, that’s only
because he knows every kink will be ironed out soon after by Jimin’s tiny elf hands. Might as well
not try that hard from the start. He’s not lazy. He isn’t. He’s just efficient.
“Wasn’t flirting,” Jeongguk mutters.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin gives him his sincerest look. Then, “If you’re done eye-fucking the customers-”

“Oh, for goodness--fine. Restock. Aisle two. Got it. Fuck off.”

Jimin laughs when Jeongguk jostles his shoulders as he walks past him to get to the stockroom.
“It’s Koi rice,” he calls after him. “Blue packaging, orange writing, cute little fish on the front.”

“Got it!”

After he finishes his shift, he waves goodbye to Jimin, and hangs the green apron up in the staff
room. “I’m going to burn that thing when I leave this place,” he tells Taehyung, his voice nothing
but serious. “In hellfire.”

“It’s pretty ghastly,” Taehyung agrees.

“It’s cursed.”

They walk the short trip to Kim’s Bulgogi and sit down at their table for a few minutes before
Taehyung waves down someone to take their order.

“Still can’t believe you never told me you work at Park’s,” he says, when their food finally arrives.
“Like, since when?”

“Dunno, a fortnight ago?”

“Dude, why didn’t you say something before? I buy everything from here - could have grossly
exploited your employee discount.”

“Guess I didn’t peg you for the type of guy to shop at a place like Park’s - doesn’t seem high-end
enough for you.”

“You know,” Taehyung says, taking a piece of fried chicken from the middle, “you assume a lot of
things about me.”

“Probably because you’re a walking cliché.”

Something shifts in Taehyung’s eyes when he says that - he can’t tell whether it’s amusement or
irritation. “Oh yeah, how so?”

“Dunno, you just fit the mould - rich kid whose parents didn’t give him enough attention growing
up. What do your parents do anyway?”

Taehyung smiles shyly. “My dad’s a policy advisor, and my mum’s a press secretary.”

“Huh, honestly, I was expecting more venture capitalist, heartless CEO kind of vibes.”

“Nope, they’re just heartless politicians instead.”

“Let me guess: as a child, they were flying out to Seoul every week for important meetings; you
were practically raised by the maid.”

“Calais actually.”

“Hmm?”
“I was born in France.”

Of course he was. “Jesus,” Jeongguk says, which makes Taehyung laugh. “So that’s why you have
so much Camus in your bookshelves. Just assumed you did it to be pretentious.”

“Can’t bully me for being cultured, Jeon.”

“I think you’ll find I most certainly can. Ok, so I’m gonna guess - French on your... mum’s side?”

“You clever cookie.” He chuckles a little bit when Jeongguk pretends to preen under the praise.
“Yeah, my dad moved to France during the 90s. He met my mum while they were working on a
campaign together, and then four years later, they had me.”

“And the world became a brighter place.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“So you were raised in France?”

“Yeah, we only moved back to Korea when I was fourteen - so halfway through middle school. I
grew up in this place called Provence, which is like right in the south of the country, next to the
Mediterrean Sea. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, at least where we were. I lived in this
farmhouse, and the only thing around was lavender fields.”

“Oh, a sheltered childhood - yeah, I can see that.” Jeongguk nods his head sympathetically. “Your
only friends were the characters in your absurdly pompous French books.”

Taehyung snorts with laughter. “You make me sound like a cartoon.”

“No Taehyung, you make you sound like a cartoon. Like Rapunzel.”

“Honestly, not far off. There were no kids my age in my neighbourhood, so I just spent most of my
time indoors. I mean, there was school, but I lived a good hour away from most of my classmates.
It was just me and the dogs. And the housekeeper, Cosette. So yeah, I guess you got one thing right
- she was practically my mother.”

“Cosette. That’s such a cute name.”

“She was terrifying. But she read to me every night, and she’s probably the reason I like reading so
much now. I adored her.”

“It all sounds so perfect,” Jeongguk says. “And like, kind of lonely.”

“Yeah... I guess. I mean, you don’t really think about those sorts of things as a child, right? Like,
even if you’re aware people have different lifestyles, I don’t think that concept really clicks until
you’re older. I didn’t find it weird that I spent more time with a random middle-aged woman than
my own parents, and I honestly don’t think it affected me that much.”

“Except for making you an attention-seeking whore.”

Taehyung nods in agreement. “Yeah, I guess there’s that. But anyway, living in Daegu was
completely different because it’s practically the opposite - big city life and all. I feel like I made up
for lost time.”

“Is that why you go out so much?” Jeongguk muses. “To make up for lost time?”
“No, honestly, I just have an alcohol problem.”

“Oh dude, same.”

“I’m definitely getting cirrhosis when I’m older - I’ve accepted my fate.” He takes a sip of his soju
to illustrate his point. “But I mean, we’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“That’s exactly the type of thing a love-deprived, recreational-drug-abusing rich kid would say,”
Jeongguk says in disappointment.

Taehyung smiles. “Yeah, I guess you got me all figured out, Jeon. Okay, what about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“What was your not-perfect, not-lonely childhood like?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “There’s nothing to say really.”

“Eugh, don’t be like that - I basically gave you an autobiography.”

He laughs. “Because you like talking about yourself.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Like, a little part of them?” Jeongguk shrugs again. “You’re infuriating.” He
sighs again when he gets no response - loud, and whiny and aggravated. “Nothing? You’re giving
me nothing?”

Jeongguk considers something for a moment, and then points towards Taehyung’s plate. “Give me
some of your galbi, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Payment?” Taehyung looks aghast. “You’re making me pay you?”

“It’s an exchange of resources - your food for my information.”

“This isn’t a criminal negotiation.”

“Galbi,” Jeongguk repeats.

“Yeah, okay, but you have to answer before I give it to you. Don’t want any unsatisfactory
responses.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but complies anyway. “Sure. Ask away.”

“Any siblings?”

“Big brother.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes in disappointment. “The board deems this answer unsatisfactory.”

Jeongguk huffs. “His name is Junghyun.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jesus, I don’t know. He’s three years older than me?”

“So he’s a senior. Does he come here?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Nah, he stayed in Busan. He knows some of the seniors who go here
though - Namjoon and Seokjin. I don’t think I’ve introduced you but yeah, they’re my brothers in a
sense too, I guess, because they were all childhood friends, always round our house.”

“You close to him - your brother I mean?”

“Yeah... I mean, I guess. Yeah. I think we kind of hated each other when we were younger though -
me because I just wanted his attention all the time, and him because I wanted his attention all the
time.” Taehyung snorts at that. “I was pretty insufferable. I dunno. I always wanted to keep up with
him, I guess. Like, whenever his friends came round, I would always hang out with them, and
forcibly insert myself into their conversations. Just wanted him to think I was cool, probably. I
never called him hyung either, which pissed him off so much.”

“Yup, insufferable sounds about right.”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk laughs. “You don’t understand things like that as a kid - you just do what
works. And all I knew was that when he was mad at me, he actually paid attention to me. So yeah,
maybe I was a bit of a brat. But he was such a bully. Like, endless torment. Wrestling, and tossing
me about, and sitting on me. I’m pretty sure he waterboarded me one time we went swimming, but
he firmly denies all accusations whenever I bring it up. We’re better now though ‘cuz the fighting
became more playful, so yeah - now, we’re pretty close.”

Taehyung looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and then he’s smiling slyly. “See, everyone
likes to talk about themselves. A little bit.”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk says again, but he feels slightly embarrassed now, aware of how long he’s
been rambling on for. He takes a sip of his lemonade if only to have something to do, have
something to look at besides Taehyung’s curious, wide eyes.

“No, it’s...” Taehyung chuckles a little bit. “It’s cool. You should talk more.”

That statement probably should’ve put Jeongguk at ease, but if anything, he now just feels ten
times as flustered. He really hopes his face isn’t heating up; his blood vessels better not snake him
out like that. After taking his incredibly lengthy ‘sip’, he doesn’t say anything in response, just
nods down at the galbi. Taehyung rolls his eyes, but obliges, grabbing a chunk of meat between his
chopsticks and holding it to Jeongguk’s mouth, which he happily eats.

“He waterboarded you?” Taehyung asks afterwards, with a little laugh, like he’s imagining it.
Psycho.

“Yeah dude - actual tortue.”

“How did you make it to this big age?”

“Determination,” Jeongguk says. “And a strong aversion to death. Anyway, I’m not really that mad
about it - made me into the person I am, I guess.”

“And who would that be?”

“Well, according to you: arrogant, alpha and always picking fights, so.”

Taehyung snorts. “Yeah, he did a good job.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nope,” he says, the word released from his lips like a pop.
“I knew it,” Jeongguk says. “Such only child vibes.”

“Stop saying shit like that,” Taehyung says. He’s smiling as he props his elbow on the table to rest
his chin against his hand, but there’s something weary about his expression, something tired in his
eyes. “Am I really that much of a cliché?”

“I just think you’re an unpredictable guy, who’s actually very predictable,” Jeongguk shrugs.

“Should be a psychotherapist, Jeon - cure all the rich kids of their starved affection.”

“Making me sound like a hooker, Kim.”

“Well, you certainly know how to put out.” Jeongguk gives him a little kick under the table, which
has Taehyung squealing with delight. "Kidding, kidding.”

“Mmm hmm,” the younger boy says, pointing to the remaining ribs on his plate. “So, you gonna
eat those or...?”

“Dunno, might utilise them as currency.” Jeongguk’s despondent look of desperation is enough to
make him concede though. He sighs, pushing his plate towards him. “Fine, have at it you fat boy.”

“Thank you hyung.”

“Just noticed you only call me hyung when you want something from me.”

“Yeah, that’s how I operate with most people.”

“Brat,” he says, but he’s smiling slightly. “Shut up and eat your pork.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jeongguk replies. “Anything for you, hyung.”

He laughs. “Jesus, shut up.” Then, he’s grinning impishly. “Actually, I have another question.”

“Sure.”

“Do you have a kink?”

Jeongguk nearly chokes on the concealed fat in his throat. “What?” he says.

Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “You heard me the first time.”

“Nope.”

“Think you did, Jeon. Do you want me to repeat it?”

“Nope.”

Taehyung’s laughing a little now. “Why are you evading this so hard? Now I feel like you’re
hiding something really freaky. Okay, let me guess... age play. Do you have a thing for fifty year
old millionaires, Jeon? Wait no, electrostimulation-”

“Please,” Jeongguk says, still chewing, “stop talking.”

“The board deems this answer unsatisfactory.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have one. Not really. I’m a pretty vanilla guy.”
Taehyung sighs dramatically. “What a let down.”

“I know, sorry to disappoint.” He continues eating the galbi while Taehyung stares at him like he’s
expecting something.

“What, you’re not going to return the question?” he asks.

“No,” Jeongguk says.

“That’s very uncourteous of you. It’s just simple conversational skills, Jeon.”

“... sure. Okay. What about you, Kim?”

“You’ve got to ask the full question.”

“Why do you wanna hear the word ‘kink’ come out of my mouth so bad?”

“I don’t - just wanna see you squirm.” This guy. Jeongguk gives him a pointed look, which makes
him smile. “Crossdressing.”

Huh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Guys are great, but guys in skirts ? Get me involved.”

Jeongguk laughs a little at that. “You tryna give me ideas, Kim?”

“Yup, indoctrination starts with planting the seeds,” Taehyung jokes. “I’ve bought food for you
too, so you already subconsciously feel indebted to me.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t. Seokjin’s been cooking for me for the last decade and I feel nothing for him.
I have no soul. None.”

“Hmm, I don’t doubt that.”

After Jeongguk finishes gnawing all the meat off the ribs - he doesn’t mess around with Korean
barbecues - Taehyung pays the bill and they walk out of the eatery towards home. There’s
something strangely peaceful about this part of Sunyeong at night. The main city center is usually
teeming with people - mostly alcoholics, mostly students, mostly alcoholic students - but this place
- a wide, tree-lined pathway through a public garden - is always quiet. Still. Like it exists in its own
time. The cheap streetlights buzz a little as they pass under them, their warm yellow light
illuminating the concrete in front, and the only sounds that can be heard are their footsteps -
rhythmic, in tandem.

“Okay, so I have a question for you,” Jeongguk says.

“Hmm?”

“The first time we met - I don’t know if you remember it, or me, but it wasn’t the day I moved into
the dorms. It was at this party, and you hid in the airing cupboard because you were running away
from this guy. What was that all about?”

A small smile starts forming on Taehyung’s face. “Didn’t think you recognised me.”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I didn’t think you recognised me. What were you doing that night?”

“What were you doing?”

“Avoiding people.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Fair enough. Guess I was too.”

Jeongguk nudges his shoulder playfully with his. “That’s not an answer.”

“I was trying not to get killed,” Taehyung says. “There’s this sophomore - Jung - and he’s
technically five months younger than me, but he’s also built like a fucking machine, so. Didn’t
want him to accidentally squeeze my windpipe too hard or something.”

“What reason did you give him to?”

“He thought I made out with his girlfriend.”

“Did you?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “So, that’s a yes.”

“What can I say? I have a reputation. Probably could’ve told me that yourself though Jeon, since
you know, I’m so predictable .”

“Don’t cry about it, Kim.”

He grins, nudges Jeongguk back. “In my defence, I didn’t know they were dating at the time, so I’d
say it’s more on the girlfriend than me. I’m not a homewrecker. Or like... a sleaze.”

“I don’t think you’re a sleaze,” Jeongguk replies.

He glances Jeongguk’s way for a moment, then turns back. “Good,” he says softly.

After more minutes of walking, they finally enter the main campus, which is practically a ghost
town at night. Most windows are still lit up though, and there are a number of students in the
library. As they pass the modern, glass building, Taehyung’s pace slows, like he’s paying more
attention to his surroundings without even noticing, like he’s itching to go inside. Cute.

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again - books suck ass,” Jeongguk tells him, “but I do have to
admire someone who’s so passionate about something. Even if that thing sucks ass.”

Taehyung gives him a hard look. “You know what your problem is? You don’t know what you
like, or what you’re looking for in a book, so you go into a story and then come out the other end
disappointed because it doesn’t fulfil your expectations. You can’t try and make something out to
be something it’s not, and get sad about it.”

Huh, that’s actually sort of insightful. He’s finding it hard to reconcile the fact that something
semi-wise just came out of Taehyung’s mouth though. “Okay, author Kim, what am I looking for
in a story then?”

“I think you’re a psychological thriller kind of guy. Physical action doesn’t get your blood
pumping. You’re more into sinister political systems being overthrown, dystopian future societies.
Fighting with brains and wit and whatnot.”

“Hmm. I’m impressed.”

“Well, I’m amazing, so.” He raises an eyebrow in Jeongguk’s direction. “And I’m more observant
than you think.”

“This your way of saying you can read me like a book?”

“Nah. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Jeongguk doesn’t really know how to
respond to that, and Taehyung registers his silence with a smile. Then, he says, “I’ll make you a
list.”

“A list?”

“A reading list.”

“That’s... adorable. I mean, I probably won’t look at it but by all means, go ahead.”

“Dude, why are you so against it?” Taehyung laughs.

“What?”

“Reading? As if it’s not something you do everyday anyway, as if it’s not something the human
race has been doing since forever.”

Jeongguk huffs. “I don’t know man, people have different pastimes.”

“But you’re so stubborn about it, as in aggravatingly.”

“I’m dyslexic.”

Taehyung stops walking so suddenly, Jeongguk is surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “Wait,
what?”

Jeongguk sees his shock and starts backtracking. “Oh no, it’s not like that big a deal or anything.
Don’t feel guilty - that’s not why I said it.” He can’t really distinguish what expression is on
Taehyung’s face right now, but he hopes it’s not pity. He really can’t deal with pity. “It’s just
growing up, reading was hard for me, I guess. Like, we’ve already established the fact that I just
kind of want to be the best at everything all the time so I dunno, it was frustrating not being
naturally good at something. Just pissed me off that everyone took it granted that they didn’t have
to read a sentence ten times before it finally made sense in their head... I guess.”

Taehyung gives him a look. “Sorry.”

Definitely pity. God. Jeongguk shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling a hundred times more
insecure. “It’s chill,” he says. “Like I said, not a big deal. Books just aren’t my thing.”

“Yeah. Fair enough. Sorry for my reaction, I guess I just wasn’t expecting it because you’re... I
dunno, you’re so...” It’s like he’s trying to find the right word to use without trying to offend all
dyslexic people. Yeah, he’s definitely a politician's son. “Articulate. Well-spoken, I dunno.”

Jeongguk snorts. “I mean, yeah. I’m not lacking in the speech department, but reading isn’t the
only way to have a good vocabulary. I’m good at picking up things I hear. It’s just physically
written words - they don’t stick with me, I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Taehyung says, “You should read Animal Farm. Pretty sure it’s
available in Korean.”

Jeongguk blinks at him - long and hard. What the fuck? “My guy, did you even listen to anything I
just said?”
“Yeah, but hear me out: you’re never gonna like reading if you don’t read. It’s like a muscle, right?
Over time, you’ll get better at it, and you’ll get better at knowing what you want, gauging what’s
worth your time. You just need to find things that you like, and then it won’t matter if it’s difficult
or not because the enjoyment you get out of it will outweigh the challenge.” Damn, two semi-wise
things in the space of five minutes. Taehyung is really challenging this once-a-month quota that
Jeongguk had expected from him. “Read Animal Farm . Seriously. I think you’ll like it.”

“... okay,” Jeongguk says after a while. “Yeah okay. I will if you buy it for me. A paperback
though - no Ebook nonsense - hurts my eyes after a while.”

“Says the guy who’s constantly staring at screens.”

“Yeah, well books are different, okay? Shit gives me migraines. Paperback, or no dice.”

Taehyung chuckles a little. “Fine.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh huh.”

“Sure.”

Okay, Jeongguk takes back all that ‘wise’ stuff: fucking child. He gives the older boy a death
glare, which only makes him laugh more. And then he says, out of nowhere, “I’m glad you had
dinner with me today,” and Jeongguk’s brain nearly short-circuits.

It’s not even the words necessarily, it’s the smile. The small one on Taehyung’s face that he thinks
Jeongguk won’t notice. It’s a soft thing - a pure, demure secret - and Jeongguk doesn’t really know
what to do with it. He’s just so used to seeing a facade. Even when it’s just the two of them, it
always feels like they’re performing a little - with the jabs, and the insults, and the hidden flirting -
but then, at the most random moments, Taehyung lets the mask drop, says something with a tone
that’s just so... genuine. Sincere. The type of shit Jeongguk would get second-hand embarrassment
from if he was watching it on a screen, but turns out that when it’s addressed to him, he practically
melts, so.

Honestly, he gives himself second-hand embarrassment, the way he reacts to these things. These
little things. It’s bad that he wants to bottle them up for himself, to replay them in his head. He
doesn’t need to be getting any ideas.

Taehyung’s still staring at him and his tongue feels like lead in his mouth so he settles with a safe:
“Yeah. Same... cool.” Huh, maybe all that ‘articulate’ and ‘well-spoken’ stuff should be retracted
too. Honestly, he’s a disgrace.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so though because he’s still staring at him, unnervingly so. And
then he’s walking towards Jeongguk, pushing him slowly until his back’s against a wall, leaning
down to kiss him and--oh. Well, this is an interesting development. Not that Jeongguk hates it.

It would help if he wasn’t so self-conscious though, if he didn’t feel like he was being so loud.
Unfortunately, Taehyung has this weird knack for finding all the places on his body that make him
whimper like a sensitive little bitch: there’s a mouth on his piercings and a hand down his thigh
and he’s really finding it hard to concentrate.

“What is it with you and walls?” he gasps.

 Taehyung nibbles at his jawline a little, slots a knee between Jeongguk’s legs. Honestly, the guy is
shameless. “Dunno. I like pressing people against things. It’s sexy.”

“It’s painful.”

Taehyung bites his lips playfully before kissing him again, tilting his head to deepen it. So
audaciously seductive; Jeongguk feels like he’s being put under a spell, captivated. “You love it
really.”

“You’re gonna give me back ache.”

“Quit bitching, Jeon.” He pulls away from the kiss to press his face into Jeongguk’s neck instead.
“God, the things I wanna do to you,” he sighs, and Jeongguk’s heart hammers. Hard. Could he
suggest a few? “You don’t even know...”

In the distance, a door slams shut as another student hurries to bed, and Jeongguk becomes
painfully aware of the fact that they are still very much outside and very much in public. “We
should probably get back to the dorms,” he says.

“Yeah,” Taehyung murmurs, although he makes no attempt to move, never mind start walking
again (and honestly, neither does Jeongguk because, despite what he’d like to think, he’s weak and
has no resolve - goddammit). Instead, Taehyung opts to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his neck
and Jeongguk doesn’t shudder. He doesn’t .

They stay there for a little while longer - Jeongguk’s head resting against the wall, Taehyung’s
head resting on his shoulder - just listening to the sounds of the night.

“Choking,” Jeongguk mumbles. Taehyung looks up slightly to give him a confused look. “Erm, my
kink, I mean.” He smiles a little, embarrassed as the older boy’s eyes widen with unadulterated
delight. “Don’t do it now though or I’ll bite your fucking hand.”

A huff of laughter escapes from Taehyung’s mouth as he leans forward again to kiss him. “Yeah,
okay. Noted.”

Chapter End Notes

Next update will probably take a little longer - because life is hectic right now and not
being nice to me phaha -but yeah, I'll try not to delay it too long ^^
 Chapter Four
Chapter Summary

This chapter's just goofy man - idek.

Chapter Notes

CW: Yoongi makes a comment about cancer in this chapter. It’s not a joke - but it is
kind of flippant - so if you have an upsetting history with cancer, or just think it will
rub you the wrong way, please be aware. It’s only two lines, but I thought a heads-up
would be appreciated.

Also, this applies more for future chapters, but with any of the French phrases used, I
provide translations for them at the very end. That said, if you pop them into Google
Translate, you should basically get a perfect translation, so yeah. Enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Taehyung has officially incurred a one-week ban from Park’s. Well, it’s technically not ‘official’
since Jimin is the only one enforcing it, but Jeongguk doubts that Taehyung will dare defy him, so.

It all starts when a disgruntled Jimin walks in on them making out in the stock room. Honestly,
Jeongguk is ashamed. He really can’t continue to blame his lack of self-restraint or impulsive
nature on this stuff. He’s just a sucker for Taehyung and his bad ideas - that’s what it boils down to
- so when the guy shows up at the store and proposes something less than savory, instead of
(rationally) thinking, “Hmm, let’s maybe not do something that could cost me my job”,
Jeongguk’s brain (dick?) says, “Yes. One hundred percent yes.”

It’s actually disgraceful how many stupid things he’s gotten himself roped into. Taehyung’s
imagination is scary sometimes. He’s like a manic pixie dream girl, except instead of showing
Jeongguk the wonders of life and the importance of spontaneity, he’s just trying to get in his pants.

Jeongguk’s just happy, and will be forever grateful, that it was Jimin who opened the door and not
a manager, because maybe he’ll be ruthlessly bullied for the rest of his duration here, but that’s a
considerably better outcome; he needs this measly money.

That said, Jimin is still less than impressed. “Jeon, the register’s unmanned. Get back to work, for
fuck’s sake.” He gives Taehyung a look. “And you - leave. Now. Thank you.”

Taehyung grins goofily and gives him a yessir salute.

The shorter boy pinches his nose as he looks down at the box that’s near their feet. “Jesus Christ.
You guys better not have done anything weird with those cucumbers.”

To which Taehyung replies (because he’s an idiot): “Anything’s a dildo if you put your mind to it.”
Jimin forcibly throws him out. Honestly, Jeongguk is impressed.

“What are you laughing at?” he mutters when they both take their positions behind the counter
again, ready to scan.

“Never knew those elf hands could be so strong,” Jeongguk replies. He squeezes Jimin’s bicep,
which makes him yelp a little. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Quit touching me.” He narrows his eyes slightly, and Jeongguk’s a bit confused until he realises
that Jimin is staring at his neck - more specifically at the hickeys that Taehyung has undoubtedly
left there. “Jesus...”

“That bad?”

“Wear concealer tomorrow. God, what did he do to you?” When Jeongguk laughs again, he says,
“Seriously. You sure he used teeth?”

“Okay Jimin.”

“You look like you’ve been mauled by a bear.”

“Sure.”

“I’m actually concerned.”

“He just has... a lot of pent up sexual frustration.”

Jimin purses his lips. “You make him sound like a live wire that’s about to snap. Please don’t kiss
future abusers, Jeongguk. Don’t let them chomp on your neck either.”

“Noted,” Jeongguk says.

When they’re cleaning the shop floor at the end of the shift, Jimin says, “Is it bad I’m jealous?”

“Hmm?”

“I want a sexy, dashing potential psychopath to whisk me away from work and make out with me
in secret.”

“Can’t tell if that’s an actual fantasy or if you’re still insulting me.”

Jimin shrugs. “Meh - half and half.”

Jeongguk smiles, dunking his mop in the bucket again. “Don’t worry Jimin, you’ll find your man.
Hyuk ssi maybe?”

“You mean fifty years old, balding, also our boss Hyuk ssi?”

“Yeah. You guys could, like, get it off to the store’s balance sheet or something.”

Jimin tilts his head as if he’s considering it. “Financial accounting is pretty sexy.”

“... you know it’s less fun for me when you actually go along with it, right?”

Jeongguk doesn’t understand Seokjin and Namjoon’s sudden interest to meet his housemates. Well,
Seokjin’s - Namjoon couldn’t give less of a shit. Seokjin should be more like him sometimes; he
rolls with the punches, unphased by life. Seokjin, on the other hand, has a predisposition to wanting
to grab life by the reigns and choke it.

“Just want to know the people you’re spending so much time with,” he says one night when he’s
treating Jeongguk to fried rice.

“You do know them,” Jeongguk says. “You know their names, you know they’re sophomores-”

“But I don’t know them, you know? I haven’t talked to them. Just want to make sure they’re, you
know...”

“What?”

Seokjin shrugs, gives him a look. “You know...” Bold of him to assume that Jeongguk reads minds.

“No. I really don’t.” Seokjin sighs, and goes back to monitoring the vegetables in the pot. Finally,
Jeongguk clocks it; he smiles knowingly. “Awh, Jin-hyung, don’t tell me you’re jealous. You’re
the one who said I should bond.”

“I did.” He’s still looking down intently at the onions and peppers. “I did say that.”

“Okay, well then don’t be sulky ‘cuz I actually have friends my age.”

“We’re only three years older than you Jeongguk,” Namjoon gripes. “We are your age.”

“No, you’re my dads.” And honestly, neither of them can argue with that. “But yeah, I mean, if you
want to meet them so bad, then it’s cool. We can have dinner or something.”

“Cool.” After a few minutes of excessive seasoning, Seokjin turns around to face him again. “One
thing though: whose cooking do you prefer?”

“Yours. A hundred percent.”

He looks like he’s about to cry. “Good. The day the answer to that question changes is the day I
murder all of them.”

“You really need to stop that,” Taehyung says, pointedly staring at Yoongi’s cigarette with disdain.
“You’re killing yourself slowly.”

“Everyone’s killing themselves slowly,” Yoongi replies. “Think of all the hidden sugar in all the
processed, carbonated shit you eat. And not just the stuff that should have sugar in it.” To make a
point, he rummages in the kitchen cupboard and pulls out a jar of white sauce, reads the label.
“See, there’s practically two spoonfuls of sugar in this. In lasagne sauce. And you wanna know
why, Tae-Tae? Because sugar is addictive. You don’t even know it but you’re being slowly
hardwired to crave it, to want it, so that you go back to the supermarket and buy more crap you
don’t need.”

Taehyung gives him a withering look, and Yoongi sighs. “Okay yeah, the irony isn’t lost on me.
But at least I’m choosing what I get addicted to. At least I’m not being mind-controlled by the
greedy, profit-hungry, multimillion food industry and then being in denial about it. And honestly,
now that we’re living longer, it’s not a matter of if people get diabetes, it’s when - you’re just
speeding up the process.”
“Yeah okay, so maybe I’ll get diabetes,” Taehyung says, with a shrug. “But you’re definitely
getting lung cancer.”

“At least I’d die with dignity,” Yoongi scoffs. Taehyung just ogles at him like he can’t believe
those words just came out of his mouth. “Ain’t nothing sexy about injecting yourself with insulin.”

“Ain’t nothing sexy about chemo.”

“I happen to think I’d look pretty good bald.”

“Jesus Christ, Yoonge-”

“And smoking is sexy. Hey kid.” He turns his attention to Jeongguk, who’s been a quiet spectator
to this whole scene thus far, pretending to scroll through his phone so they wouldn’t call him out
for eavesdropping. Unfortunately, life never is that easy; he looks up with caution. “Watch this.”

Yoongi takes a puff, his chest inflating like a balloon as he inhales, and then he releases the smoke
through his mouth. It billows out, a majestic cloud, and forms a perfect circle around his nose
before he sucks it back in again through his nostrils. Whoa. Jeongguk would be lying if he said he
wasn’t the tiniest bit mesmerized.

“It’s called a bull ring,” Yoongi says.

“That,” Jeongguk has to admit, “was quite sexy.”

Triumphant, Yoongi gives Taehyung the finger, who just glares back at him. “Whatever man.
Enjoy dying young.”

The front door opens and in enters Mina with an impressive number of grocery bags. Her nose
scrunches up instantly. “Jesus, Yoonge, you know you can’t do that shit inside - smells like an
ashtray here. Jeongguk’s parents are coming tonight and I don’t think they’ll appreciate second-
hand smoke.”

Yoongi looks over at him. “All the way from Busan? Shit, that’s commitment. Hasn’t even been a
term yet.”

“No, she means my hyungs,” Jeongguk said. “They’re seniors here but they’re a little
overprotective. They want to make sure you guys are a good influence on me.”

Yoongi snorts. “You’re joking right?” He stills when Jeongguk’s face doesn’t change, and slowly
puts out his cigarette. “Well, shit then.”

Mina rolls her eyes, walking over to dump all the bags at the bar and start unpacking them. “Okay,
can one of you losers help me slice an onion? I’m making lamb curry and I’ll actually cry if it ends
up being anything less than spectacular.”

Taehyung grunts in resignation and saunters over to help while Yoongi gives Jeongguk a scornful
look. “I hope you’re happy now. You’re the reason she’s in housewife mode. Nothing good ever
comes out of housewife mode.”

“Except amazing lamb curry,” Mina argues.

“I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

Seokjin and Namjoon arrive at 18:59 exactly - Seokjin always makes a point of being a minute
early to everything. Honestly, his fastidious nature would be bully-worthy if Jeongguk didn’t find
his determination so admirable. They turn up with soju (probably Namjoon’s contribution) and
these fancy chocolate truffles ( definitely Seokjin’s contribution) which is a good sign because at
least they’re not being as hostile as Jeongguk was anticipating.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Seokjin says, with that politician smile of his, as they enter the dorms.

“And you,” Mina returns, taking the gifts from them. “Awh, they brought alcohol - Guk, I love
your parents already.”

Namjoon shoots him a look. “Please don’t tell me that’s how you’ve been referring to us.”

Jeongguk makes no comment.

“Anyway,” Mina says, gesturing to the dinner table. “Take a seat. Food’s ready - I’ll bring it out in
a moment. Do you guys want a drink? We have Coke... I think. Let’s see, we have erm...” She’s
scanning inside the fridge before she’s even given them time to respond. “We have some mango
juice, some apple stuff, think we got some citron tea. I mean, we could crack the sojus open now,
but I’m guessing you want to save them for later...”

Yoongi gives Jeongguk a withering look: see, housewife mode.

“Water’s, err, fine,” Namjoon says, with a slight cough. “Thank you.”

Mina smiles at Seokjin, “And you, hun?”

“Yeah, water’s fine - thanks.”

The dinner part of things pass pleasantly enough: Mina and Taehyung like asking questions, and
Seokjin is more than happy to oblige them by answering (talking about simple things in
roundabout ways has always been his forte). Namjoon keeps him in check whenever he starts
exaggerating (which is every time he opens his mouth):

“Funny you should mention that, I was actually the captain of my school’s regional volleyball
team.”

“You mean the B Team, Jin.”

“Same difference.”

“The difference is that you didn’t go to fucking regionals.”

When all the plates have been cleared though, ie. after Jeongguk has been instructed to wash all of
them (“You’re the maknae - show your elders some respect, you brat.”), Mina purses her lips in
contemplation. “What do we do now?” she asks.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Hoseok suggests.

“No,” Yoongi gripes.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not twelve, Hobi. Or at a sleepover. Can’t take that bullshit seriously. Can’t we
play, like, Jenga or something?”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow back. “And how old are you, eighty?”
“Yes,” Yoongi replies, empathetically, which makes Jeongguk smile because he could definitely
imagine him as a grandpa: gruff, and rough around the edges, and set in his ways. “Or a board
game or something.”

And then Mina’s jumping up from her seat and rummaging through a basket of assorted crap in the
corner of the room. “Let’s play Quizzical.”

“Quizzical?” Namjoon asks.

“It’s a trivia board game. It’s...” She drags it out and places it on the floor. “Wait, Yoongi can
explain it better. It’s, like, his favourite thing in the world.”

“It is,” he confirms. “The only payoff for all the newspaper puzzles I do - I’m a fucking beast at
it.” He pauses for a moment. “Not to brag.”

“No, no,” Taehyng says. “That was a humble statement, I assure you.”

Ignoring him, Yoongi opens up the board game and lays the components out on the table. When
he’s arranged everything, he nods in satisfaction and turns to address them all again. “Okay, so
basically, the aim is to get all the way around the board. Obviously. There are four different
colours you can land on, and the colours correspond to a different task. So with yellow, you need to
pick the correct definition of a word; blue, you need to draw something real quick Pictionary-style;
red, that’s just your classic trivia; and then green, you need to act out something, like charades. It’s
pretty simple. You work in teams, if you get the question right, you advance forward, if not, you
stay where you are and repeat the same question type your next turn.”

“Suggestion,” Hoseok says, raising a hand.

Yongi gives him an unblinking stare. “We’re not in a classroom, Hobi.”

“If we get the question wrong, we take a shot.”

“Yes.” Taehyung points at him in agreement. “That.” Jeongguk just looks at him. Cirrhosis, huh?
Yeah, sounds about right.

“Fine, we can compromise Mr Teenage Girl. Get the shot glasses.”

The next order of business is picking the teams. To keep the numbers even, Jeongguk suggests
Namjoon should be the umpire-of-sorts because he’s the only morally upstanding person here, and
after a few seconds of self-reflection, everyone agrees with the statement unanimously. Then,
Yoongi puts three green and three red marbles into a bag (“Why do you even own marbles
though?” “None of your goddamn business, kid.”) and they start to randomly draw them out.

Mina’s first: green. Taehyung then sticks his hand in the bag and rummages for way longer than
necessary (“Sometime today, Kim.”) before his hand emerges with a red marble. Afterwards, it’s
Jeongguk’s go – he gets red, and Taehyung’s eyes flash, wicked and excited.

“Jeon,” he says, a dangerous expression on his face, “we’re on the same team.”

“Yeah man, that’s how colours work.”

Once all the marbles have been picked, the teams are decided: Taehyung, Jeongguk and Yoongi on
one; Mina, Hoseok and Seokjin on the other.

“I like our odds,” Taehyung says. “This guy” – he pats Yoongi’s shoulder with affection, only to
have his hand violently shaken off with a scowl – “this guy is gonna lead us to victory.”

“Pull your weight too, you moron,” Yoongi mutters, but Jeongguk can tell he’s secretly pleased by
the compliment.

They go first, landing on a red. “What does that mean again?” Jeongguk asks.

“Trivia question,” Namjoon replies, taking a card out. He reads it out: “What are the Boseong
plantations known for? Is it A: black-”

“Green Tea,” Yoongi answers, before he can finish – Namjoon honestly seems a little upset at that
– and then, he’s unceremoniously tossing the dice towards Mina. “Your turn.”

They land on a green, and Seokjin has to roam around the living room pretending to be an elephant
for a while before Mina and Hoseok finally clock it. Then, it’s their turn again. Taehyung rolls the
dice and they land on yellow. “That’s words, right? Oh my god, my fucking forte.”

“Don’t jinx it, Kim.”

“Jeon, just sit back and witness my magic, alright? What’s the question?”

“What was the original definition of the word Balderdash?” Namjoon reads. “Is it A: a lively tune,
B: frothy liquid or C: a type of rock?”

Taehyung looks stumped. “Okay...,” he says. “Okay. Erm. Balderdash... balder... balder ... Shit, I
don’t know - it doesn’t have Latin roots, I can’t work with that.”

“What was this about magic, Kim?”

“Jeon, I’m gonna put your head through the wall.”

Jeongguk is aghast. “Fucking try me-”

Taehyung cuts him off before he can finish his rebuttal though, turning back to Namjoon. “When
was the origin? Like, how far ago are we talking?”

Namjoon checks the card. “Sixteenth century.”

“Okay, so it’s probably strayed quite a bit from it, erm... alright, I’m gonna go with... lively tune.”

“It’s B: frothy liquid.”

“Oh, putain.”

“Fuck’s sake, Tae,” Yoongi curses as the other boy shrugs ruefully. Namjoon pours soju into
glasses for them and they toss them down into the back of their throats.

Mina gets the next question right, and then Namjoon’s giving them another word question: “If
francophone means French-speaking, what does sinophone mean?”

“Okay, erm... sino. Sino... that’s like... shit, what country is that again?” Taehyung muses, his
eyebrows furrowed as he thinks. “Definitely East Asian.”

“China?” Jeongguk supplies.

“Err, maybe,” he says, but there’s doubt in his voice. “I dunno though, honestly I’m thinking
Japanese.”

“Sure, go with whatever, Kim. Magic, right?”

After pondering on it for a few moments, he turns to Namjoon with a hopeful expression:
“Japanese-speaking?”

Namjoon purses his lips in sympathy. “Chinese-speaking.”

“Oh. Whoops.” Jeongguk just rolls his eyes. At least Taehyung has the decency to look somewhat
apologetic. “Sorry guys,” he says, with a sheepish smile. “That one was on me.”

“No shit,” Yoongi grunts. “Who else was it gonna be on?”

Taehyung gapes at him. “Dude, I’m trying to like... be a better person here, admit my faults and
shit. Don’t make me feel bad for being nice.”

“Be smart, and then maybe I’ll grant you that luxury.”

“Yeah, with all due respect, Kim,” Jeongguk says, “you’re a bit of a liability.”

“With all due respect, Jeon,” he replies, “suck a bag of dicks.”

“Wow. Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Mature response right there.”

“I try.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk raises his hand at Namjoon: “Permission to remove Taehyung
from the game?”

Namjoon sighs. “Request denied.”

“Permission to transfer Taehyung to the other team?”

“Request denied.”

Yoongi puts his own hand up now. “Permission to quit the game myself to avoid insanity?”

He gives them a withering look. “All of you quit bitchin’.”

By their third wrong answer, Jeongguk has already - rather bitterly - resigned himself to their fate;
victory is nowhere within their reach. “At this rate,” he grumbles, “we’re not gonna be sober
enough to even understand the questions.”

“This shit’s like twenty percent Jeon, calm your tits,” Taehyung says as he knocks it back. “If you
can’t handle this stuff, then you deserve to blackout.”

“Oh wow, says the world’s biggest lightweight-”

“You know, the team chemistry here is immaculate,” Yoongi says.

“Suck. A dick, Yoonge.”

“My point exactly.”

“Is that your only insult?” Jeongguk asks, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Not showing a lot of
creativity here, writer boy.”

“What can I say?” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good word. Dick. Dick. So blunt, you know? Forceful.
Frank. Di-”

“Okay. Stop that,” Yoongi says. “Stop now.”

The other team lands on green - charades. Namjoon flashes Mina the card, and then she’s nodding,
and standing in front of them, ready for her performance. As she whips the hair out of her face with
a forceful shake of her head, and corrects her stance, Jeongguk realises just how seriously they’re
taking this stupid game, and how much he really, really doesn’t want to lose it.

“What’s our clue?” Hoseok asks.

“Action,” Namjoon replies, grabbing the sand hourglass. “Okay, one minute on the clock, and...
go!”

Mina glides her hips from side to side, her hands moving backwards and forwards in tandem - a
rowing action - and it only takes fives seconds before Seokjin’s yelling out, “Skiing!” Honestly,
Jeongguk is not even surprised: they both radiate that same mum energy, there is definitely some
telepathy shit going on here.

“Huh,” Taehyung says. “Would’ve guessed dry humping.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mr Comedian - until you’ve actually contributed something to this
team, you don’t get to make jokes.”

“I’m ready this time, I promise,” Taehyung says. He stretches an arm over his head in deliberate
concentration, and Jeongguk marvels at how dumb he looks.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, picking up the next card. “What does the word rubricate mean? Is it A: to
chew slowly, B: to think deeply about something, C: to add special typography to a page, or D: to
pass the point of no return?”

“Well,” Taehyung says, like he’s lecturer in front of a sea of students eager to learn, “the stem
rubricat- means ‘marked in red’ in Latin, so I’m inclined to believe it has something to do with
writing.” Jesus, Jeongguk thinks. “And a rubric is the heading of a document--”

“Kim, you don’t need to explain your whole thought process.”

He pouts: “How else am I supposed to show off my extensive linguistic knowledge?”

“I dunno. Maybe don’t. Maybe just pick a less useless degree next time.”

“Okay, for your information--”

“Tae,” Yoongi says, voice tight like a taut rope. “Answer.”

“Right. Erm, C.”

Namjoon nods his head in relief, probably more happy that he didn’t have to experience another
failure than he is happy for them. “C is correct.”
“Fuck yeah,” Taehyung says, punching the air. “I’m a genius.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

“Sorry, what was that, Jeon?”

“I said--”

“I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my--”

“Jesus Christ.”

“--resounding victory.”

Exasperated, Yoongi raises his hand again. Namjoon just looks at him, but his voice is deeply
twinged with pity as he says: “No.”

Hoseok get another charades one, which doesn’t go as successfully.

(“How the fuck was that Sleeping Beauty?”

“Wha --I was kissing the princess.”

“You were assaulting the cushion.”)

And then it’s Jeongguk’s turn to roll the dice. “Blue...,” he muses. “Drawing, right?” When
Namjoon shows him the card, he thinks to himself: simple enough. But unfortunately, he’s
mistaken because his teammates’ guesses don’t even come close during the minute that they have.
After a final incorrect, “Ironing board?” from Taehyung, the hourglass timer runs out.

“It’s a dog,” Jeongguk says. They both gape at him.

“No,” Yoongi says. “No, it is not.”

Taehyung nods his head slowly in dumbfounded agreement. “Yeah, how’d you manage to fuck
that one up then?”

“What, that’s so--”

“Where’s the tail, Jeon? Hmm? Where’s the fucking tail?”

Jeongguk points to a blob on the page. “Right there.”

“Looks the same as all the fucking legs. Everything looks the same.”

“I was going for a simplistic stick figure approach.”

“But why?”

“For time efficiency.”

“For a fucking dog?” Taehyung stares at him. “Jeon... it’s a--it’s a dog. I’m sorry - you give it a
head, four legs and a tail, and then you call it a day. Was it really that mammoth a task that you had
to fucking simplify it--”

“Look, I was just trying to--”

“And why the fuck is its neck so long? Looks like a mutated giraffe.”

“I don’t appreciate--”

“Looks like a bicycle with no wheels.”

“Oh yeah, just keep ‘em coming--”

“It looks like a-- like a--”

Jeongguk gives him a glower as he splutters. “Like a what? Huh? Run out of similes already, writer
boy? That’s a shame.”

“I don’t need similes because at least I didn’t fuck up one of the most basic mammals on the
fucking planet. That knowledge is insult to injury enough, Jeon - starting to think I’m not the
liability after all.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” Yoongi says, pinching his nose; he seems to have aged fifty years in the
last ten minutes. “I’m the only competent one here, we’re screwed.”

After that blip though, things start to look up because, by a stroke of luck - or perhaps divine
intervention (Jeongguk might be a sinful heathen, but he’s still holding onto to the hope that there’s
someone out there who’s got his back in life because god knows he’s gonna need it) - whenever
they roll the dice, they land on red, and Yoongi absolutely blazes through all the trivia questions:

“Namichum is a Buddhist dance in which the participants wear-”

“Butterfly.”

“In what month were the 1988 Seoul Summer Olympic-”

“September.”

“After Brazil, what is the second largest-”

“Argentina.”

Taehyung just marvels at him, his eyes sparkling in reverence. “Wow,” he says as he pets
Yoongi’s hair, undeterred by the glare that earns him. “There’s so much useless information in that
beautiful brain of yours.”

“Do you have a death wish, Tae?”

Eventually, they reach the end of the board, with the other team’s counter only a few spaces
behind; Jeongguk cannot comprehend it. “Wait, so we win?” he asks incredulously.

“We’re the underdogs, Jeon. The underdogs always win,” Taehyung justifies.

“We weren’t underdogs, Kim - we were just shit.”

“Perhaps, but as I predicted” - he claps a hand around Yoongi’s shoulder again, and gets an angry
paws off me, Tae grumbled back at him - “this man led us to victory.”

Mina sighs at the unfairness of it. “Yeah, how’d it feel to carry the team, Yoonge? Bet your back
aches.”
“My mind aches more. I need a fucking aspirin.”

They spend the rest of the evening lounging on the sofas and sipping soju and trading stories.
Mina’s massaging Jeongguk’s head with her nails (jet black this week; Jeongguk approves - very
sleek) and there’s something so hypnotic about the touch, something that makes him melt into it.
He feels warm all over, pliant metal being molded - closes his eyes and feels himself floating as he
listens to their voices. There’s something so right about this, about them sitting in this room
together, this lazy happiness thawing him.

“Speaking of mistakes,” Taehyung says, after Hoseok recounts the tale of the time he drove away
from a gas pump with the handle still attached to his car and almost caused a Zoolander -esque
explosion, “Yoongi used to have a bowl cut in high school.”

The whole room falls silent.

“Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi says, with a voice that could invoke hellfire to rain down. His hunched
back straightens up slightly, like he’s preparing himself to pounce if need be - fighting stance at the
ready. “Don’t you dare. I will castrate you.”

But Taehyung’s already digging out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll, unbridled joy
in his eyes. “There was this class photo of us--shit, where is it?”

“Both balls, Taehyung. I will do it - do not test me.”

When Taehyung finally finds it, he holds up his screen triumphantly; everybody gapes. And
Jeongguk, he doesn’t want to laugh but--

“Oh god, that’s atrocious,” Seokjin says, and the rest of them hum in agreement: Yoongi looks like
a marshmallow with a wig on his head, and his pale complexion and remnants of baby fat only add
to the image. Poor, poor boy.

“Oh really?” he says, unimpressed. “You say it like I don’t know it, like I’m not the one who had
to go to school with that thing, like it wasn’t the sole source of my social anxiety for a whole
month of my life. But yeah, by all means, go ahead and laugh at it for your own entertainment.”
They do. Heavily. “Yeah, yuk it up, you fucking sickos.”

After the chortling dies down, he gives Taehyung a long, hard glare. “You.” He points a menacing
finger. “You’re waking up tomorrow without testicles, how do you feel?”

“I regret nothing,” Taehyung grins.

“Bastard. I feared as much.”

They settle back into their positions on the sofas - mostly smiling to themselves at the image of
scowling teenage Yoongi - when all of a sudden, Mina is sitting up straight, looking pink-faced
and shameful. “Oh my god,” she whispers. Her head spins around to look at Namjoon and Seokjin.
“I didn’t even offer you guys dessert.” The frantic speed at which she stands up and scurries over to
the kitchen is actually kind of frightening. She starts opening the cupboards like an anxious mouse.
“Shit--erm, we’ve got... Think we’ve got ice cream somewhere. There’s a slice of cheesecake in the
fridge...”

“No, it’s... we’d better be on our way actually,” Namjoon says, with a polite nod as he gestures to
Seokjin, whose head is lolling back against the sofa like he’s half-dead. There’s a high rise to the
pink in his cheeks, and it’s obvious he succumbed to one too many bottles of soju. “Need to get
this joker home.” The before he embarrasses himself part is left silent. “Thank you though.”
“But I want cheesecake,” Seokjin sulks, the pout on his lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

“You want your bed, bud. Come on, on your feet.” Seokjin begrudgingly lets himself be pulled up,
and Namjoon wraps an arm around his waist to balance him. “Thank you again for the curry,” he
says, bowing slightly to show his gratitude. “It was amazing.”

Mina flashes Yoongi a wicked grin. “Hear that, Yoonge? It was amazing.”

“It was edible,” he grunts back. “That’s all you’re getting - don’t fish for more.”

“Erm, Guk.” Namjoon gives Jeongguk an apologetic look as he looks down at Seokjin.

“Yeah, lemme grab my coat.”

Seokjin is probably (most definitely) playing this whole thing up (he likes being carried by people,
it’s a thing - a very inconvenient, irritating, unnecessary thing) and apparently, he’s shameless
enough to pull this shit in front of four practically-strangers because he’s not going to let up any
time soon, and when he’s like this, he’s basically a dead weight; Jeongguk can’t let Namjoon lug
this sad man all the way back to their apartment by himself. Anyway, Seokjin has been indulging
him for more than half of his life now, so maybe he should give back once in a while. Sidling up to
the other side of his body, Jeongguk props him up slightly.

“Okay dopey - arm over shoulder, let’s go.”

“Thank you for coming!” Mina chirps, and the rest of them chorus something similar in nature.

“Thank you for having us.”

Then, they’re heading through the door and down the stairs and walking across the silent, deserted
Sunyeong campus. Their apartment’s only a ten minute walk away, but with Seokjin digging his
fingers into his back, time is somehow elongating itself. Still though, this is nice - walking through
the city at night. The breeze on his face, the distant rumble of traffic, the steady padding of feet on
concrete.

“So, what’s your verdict?” Jeongguk asks after a while.

“They’re nice,” Seokjin says; there’s a sleepy lilt to his voice as he yawns. “I like them.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, with a little smile. “Yeah, me too.”

Jeongguk sometimes forgets Taehyung has sex with other people.

It doesn’t bother him per se - it shouldn’t - but it’s just weird because Taehyung has this way of
making him feel so special sometimes, so singled out. Like, whenever they’re together, he makes a
point about giving Jeongguk his full attention - all the time, always. It’s honestly a bit
overwhelming, almost selfish - like he’s doing it for himself, like he wants to make Jeongguk sob
over and over and over for him - but still. It’s hard to imagine he’s like that with everyone, kind of
hurts to imagine it.

Then again, Jeongguk shouldn’t care. So.

He knew what he was getting himself into from the start, and in his opinion, the worst has passed.
At least he doesn’t feel like Taehyung’s doormat anymore - the playing field has evened out, it’s
better. He doesn’t feel weird about being with Taehyng around other people. This is such a
priceless position to be in: they’ll keep fueling the flame until the fire burns out and then they’ll go
their separate ways and be friends still, be civil about it. And in the meantime, Jeongguk gets
milking. It’s a beautiful thing really, almost too perfect.

That’s what he tells himself whenever he sees Taehyung make a pass at someone at a party, when
he touches their arm and laughs way too loud at something, when he disappears with them for the
rest of the night. It doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t affect Jeongguk and it doesn’t affect what
they have - he knew what he was getting himself into from the start.

Still, it’s hard to maintain the mentality when he’s pressed up against the tile wall of some
stranger’s bathroom with Taehyung’s mouth on his throat and the inability to think straight.

“Such a beautiful boy, Jeon,” he keeps saying. “So sexy. God, look at you.”

He really needs to stop talking, needs to stop inflating Jeongguk’s ego. Needs to stop making him
feel-- “So perfect.” Too late: consider ego inflated. Jeongguk thinks about all the other ‘boys’
Taehyung’s probably fucked in here, and the scariest thing is, he doesn’t even care.

Hovering closer to the fire now - getting dangerous.

“You’re sleeping with him?” Seokjin says incredulously the night he decides to tell them both.

Namjoon doesn’t bat an eyelid, doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading. “Good for you,”
he tells him at the same time Seokjin says, “That’s a bad idea.”

They both share a look. Then, Namjoon’s sighing. “He can fuck whoever he wants to fuck Seokjin,
don’t see how that affects us.”

“It affects us because we’re his Emotional Management Team,” Seokjin says, “and when this all
goes tits up, we’re the ones who are going to have to handle him.”

Jeongguk snorts. “I can handle myself, thank you very much.”

“Of course, honey.”

“Fuck off, I can.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Seokjin repeats. “I know I said I like them and all but... I don’t know, it would be
different if you were dating, but the boundaries for casual sex are blurred at best. This whole
situation seems too fragile to me. And he’s older than you--”

“By a year.”

“--more experienced, I dunno... don’t want him to take advantage of you.”

A laugh escapes Jeongguk’s mouth before he can stop it. “Take advantage of me? Jesus. Nice to
know that’s how you view me. Next time, I just won’t tell you.”

“Why did you tell us?”

“Because it’s about the principle. You’re my hyungs - I should be able to tell you shit without
feeling like I’m gonna get judged for it.”
 “I’m not judging you, I’m looking out for you.”

“I can look out for myself. I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy.”

He scoffs. “Guk, you’re practically ten. I don’t want to think about you having a penis, never mind
using it.”

“See,” Jeongguk says, with a roll of his eyes: “Dads.”

Seokjin gives him an equally unimpressed look before pursing his lips in resignation. “Whatever.
Just don’t come crying to me when things go to shit.”

Chapter End Notes

Welcome to: Learn French with Fictional Tae

Putain = fuck
That’s it. That’s the lesson.

Also, I’m sorry 80% of this chapter is just three boys arguing over knock-off Cranium.
This is anime beach-episode material. We'll chalk it up to character building and leave
it at that.

Also, also (I write too much in these notes - someone stop me) thank you so much for
all the encouragements, and kudos, and comments and whatnot. They honestly warm
my heart - y'all cute, I appreciate it.

(Third also: let’s ignore the fact that I forgot how language works when I wrote this.
Like, why would there be Latin words in a Korean trivia game? Gah, who knows. Stop
analysing plot holes and live your life, man.)
 Chapter Five
Chapter Notes

(Mediocrely-written) smut and Jeongguk in a skirt awaits thee. Enjoy ya filthy

animals.

Also: light dom/sub elements, but mostly, it’s just them being bratty dorks.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Okay, explain to me again why I have to be the one to do this?” Mina asks warily as Jeongguk
hands her the money.

“Because if I walk into a lingerie store and buy panties, then I’m a creep.”

“Or you know, a well-meaning and thoughtful boyfriend.”

He gives her an imploring look. “Please.”

“Fine, okay.” She tucks the cash into her purse with a sigh. “You’re not giving me much to go off
though. Are they for you?”

“Jesus. No.”

“Okay then, who? A partner? A booty call? A dominatrix? Come on Jeongguk, give me a vibe.”
When she only gets a withering look back in response, she rolls her eyes. “Well, do you at least
have a colour in mind?”

“Not really. They’re not gonna stay on long, so.”

“Oh Guk, you dog, you,” Mina laughs. “Okay, what about a style?”

Jeongguk blinks. “There are different styles?”

“Oh, you uneducated boy.” She pats his cheeks. “There’s briefs, there’s thongs, there’s bikinis,
there’s bralettes, there’s bustiers-”

“God. Stop please. Erm, I don’t know... briefs I guess.” He’s positive he’s morphing into a tomato
by simply talking about it; he’s actually such a child. “Something lacy, not too conspicuous. I don’t
know,” he repeats. It’s worrying how overwhelmed he feels already - maybe this was a bad idea. “I
trust your judgment.”

“Hmm, that’s a good way to get away with being lazy,” Mina says. “You should say that more
often.” She turns to enter the store, but briefly looks over her shoulder before she does. “One more
thing - what’s your size again?”

“Medium,” Jeongguk says, without thinking.

There’s a pause. And then a very big, very scary smile appears on Mina’s face. She all but
squawks, “Oh my god, they are for you.”
Shit. Not very smart on Jeongguk’s part. “Can I bribe you for your silence?”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyway - I love sexual awakenings - but since you offered.”
She shrugs. “You’re officially indebted to me.”

“Shut up and go buy panties.”

Okay, the outfit is ready and he’s in the outfit so technically, he’s ready, but now - faced with the
task of actually opening the door to Taehyung’s room - he has the impression that this is
undoubtedly the worst idea he’s ever had. Like, by far. Even worse than when he strapped two
floats onto his feet as a kid and jumped into the pool thinking he’d be able to walk on water - this
takes the fucking cake.

The only thing that makes it less mortifying is the fact that he could order all the clothes online
because he doesn’t care what Mina claims - an eighteen year old guy walking into a store to buy a
schoolgirl outfit is suspect no matter which way you slice it. He was contemplating a maid, but he
figured that would be a bit too cosplay-ish. That said, he’s straight up taken a cliché from hentai, so
he really can't stand here and pretend that he has class all of a sudden. He’s actually a disgrace. He
actually doesn’t understand how he could stoop this low.

Still though, this is the only chance he has: Wednesday afternoons are the one time the others have
classes when he and Taehyung don’t, and also, after this week, they’re breaking up for summer and
Jeongguk will one hundred percent have talked himself out of all of this by the time September
rolls around. So, the time is now. Well, in ten seconds when he doesn’t feel like throwing up
anymore and he actually musters the courage to knock.

When he does, Taehyung says, “You know you can just walk in, right...? There’s no locks on the
doors.”

Oh lord, Jeongguk is definitely going to throw up. Chunks everywhere. He regrets eating a whole
bowl of noodles earlier - it doesn't deserve to be rebirthed.

“You can’t laugh,” he says.

He hears a breezy chuckle on the other side of the door. “Why, what have you done?”

“Just... promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Can’t promise anything, Jeon.”

Damn, well that helps his nerves. This guy, honestly.

He takes a deep breath, opens the bedroom door, steps in and is met with... absolute silence.
Taehyung just stares. Shit. Okay. Not the reaction he was hoping for. He knows it could go either
way - Taehyung’s either very much disgusted, or equally very much turned on - but when you’re
already feeling incredibly self-conscious, silence is the last thing you want. So naturally, he starts
to panic.

“Erm... it’s okay if you don’t like it,” he says, hates how fucking timid he sounds. “I just thought...
well, I don’t know what I thought. Erm, but yeah.”

Taehyung’s eyes soften and he stands up from the bed. “Come here.” When Jeongguk doesn’t
move, he smiles. “No seriously, come here.”
Jeongguk somehow makes his feet move, albeit warily, until he’s standing in front of him. There’s
a beat of silence in which they just look at each other, and then Taehyung’s picking him up and
throwing him onto the bed, and Jeongguk’s squealing and Taehyung’s laughing and his hands are
holding him, and he’s climbing on top of him and yeah, okay. Maybe this isn’t too bad.

“Holy shit, Jeon,” he says, looking down at him. He sounds out-of-breath, like he can’t even
comprehend how this is happening. “Shit. Shit.”

“You wanna say that any more times?” Jeongguk says, already feeling his face heating up. He
knows the attention can only be a good thing, but at times, it’s so much. The way Taehyung looks
at him. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Taehyung smiles a little, lowers himself down so he can whisper into Jeongguk’s ear: “Shit.”

Jeongguk laughs. “Lovely.”

“You’re lovely. Fuck.” They kiss a little before Taehyung pulls away with an impish look on his
face. “So, what inspired the look?”

“Dunno. I mean, it’s summer next week and I’m not gonna see you for two months, so...”

Taehyung grins against his lips. “So you thought you’d do something special for me?”

“Don’t get too excited, Kim.”

“Too late,” he groans, pinning Jeongguk down against the mattress. “So excited.”

Then, he’s reaching a hand up Jeongguk’s skirt and thumbing at the lace material of the panties.
It’s ridiculous how Jeongguk is getting so hard so quickly. They haven’t even done anything.

“Take your time,” he shivers as Taehyung smoothes another hand down his skirt, feels the material
between his fingers.

“I plan to,” he replies. “I’m taking hours.”

“You only have one - Mina gets back from Physics afterwards.”

He feels Taehyung tease at the waistband of the panties, rub circles on the skin of Jeongguk’s hips.
“I don’t care if they know.”

“I mean, I don’t either.” They seem like they’d be chill enough with it. “But the walls are thin, and
we’re not exactly quiet. Just don’t want to be an obnoxious dick is all.”

“Eugh, imagine having morals.”

“I know - must be hard for you.”

Taehyung’s back to feeling the skirt again, patting it down. There’s a weird sense of elation in his
eyes. “I like it,” he says, and Jeongguk nearly snorts at the childlike simplicity of his expression.

“Oh?” he mocks. “Really?”

That earns him a pinch on the waist. “Shut up,” Taehyung replies, but his smile is a sheepish one.
“I dunno, it’s just... on you, it’s like...” He pauses for a moment, and then shakes his head when he
fails to articulate what he’s thinking in his mind. “I dunno,” he says again, and then asks, “Do you
like it?”
And honestly, Jeongguk hadn’t really thought about it. He guesses, now that he’s not feeling
overwhelmingly insecure about the whole thing, he does kind of like it. Likes that it makes him
feel small - like something to be looked after - but that it’s his choice. His decision. It’s
empowering in a way, having both hard lines and soft edges and getting to choose which one he
wants to be that moment in time.

“Yeah,” he says, and it comes out breathier than he’d wanted it to, but whatever - the grin
Taehyung gives him is worth it. He sighs a little in content as Taehyung’s hands hug him at the
hips, and then one of them is snaking up to unbutton his shirt.

“You know, I have to admire the attention to detail you’ve put into this,” he says as he loosens the
tie to get to the top button. He smiles devilishly. “Or is this a hint? Do you want me to choke you
with it?”

Honestly, even the thought is enough to make Jeongguk feel dizzy. God, this can’t be healthy.
Think with your brain, not your dick, he tells himself. Jeongguk. Brain. Not dick. Forget dick. Dick
bad.

“I don’t know, interpret it how you want,” he tells Taehyung. He’s pretty proud of himself,
considering it literally takes every ounce of willpower he has to stop himself from pouncing on top
of the boy. Damn, he remembers the days he had self-respect - he misses those days.

“Ooh, cryptic as ever, Jeon.” Taehyung grins, sliding a hand under his shirt. He trails it across
Jeongguk’s chest, down his ribcage. “You know,” he says, smoothing a thumb over his nipple,
“you should really get that piercing.”

Jeongguk smiles, shivering slightly at the touch. “Oh yeah? For you or for me?”

“For me. Obviously.” He says it lightheartedly enough but there’s a sadistic glint in his eyes. “I’m
selfish, sue me. Keep thinking about how much I wanna ruin you, how much I wanna make you
cry.” He looks pleased when Jeongguk groans at that. “Want you to be loud for me, Jeon.” Self-
restraint, Jeongguk. It’s a beautiful thing. Restrain yourself. God, it’s times like these when he’s so
happy he’s witty; it makes masking things - namely sheer desperation - a lot easier.

“Guess you’ll have to work harder.”

He nips Jeongguk’s jaw, playful. “Guess I will.”

And then his hands are back - everywhere. On his chest, and down his thigh, and around his neck.
He knows that Taehyung’s technically a human, but realistically, there’s no way something with
only two arms can cover that much ground, or skin, or whatever. Jeongguk can’t tell if it’s stealthy
or legitimately scary.

“One question though,” Taehyung suddenly says, pulling away for a moment.

“Sure,” Jeongguk says, even though he’s not really listening: hands are distracting.

“Why do you, erm... find it hard to submit sometimes?” Jeongguk stops moving and gives
Taehyung a skeptical look, which evidently makes him panic a little. “I mean... it seems like your
natural response, you know, what you want to do instinctively, but you never let yourself go fully?
There’s always a part of you that’s, like, guarded, I don’t know. Like at Woojin’s - there’s this
tension in you, fighting what you actually want, or something...”

By now, Jeongguk has distanced his face - not a lot, just enough to make Taehyung feel
uncomfortable, to maybe make him stop talking. He does not.
“I’m not saying this to attack you,” he says.

“Okay,” Jeongguk replies, feeling pretty attacked.

“I just don’t understand it, I guess. Is it a power thing? You don’t like feeling controlled, or
whatever? Because I feel like you’d enjoy yourself more if you just... let go... I suppose.”

Eugh. Sometimes Jeongguk forgets that Taehyung actually notices things. Not that he’s still under
the impression that Taehyung is a self-obsessed prick, but still, it always catches him off guard
when he remembers that Taehyung can be perceptive. Observant. Makes him feel a bit naked in a
way, exposed. Or maybe it’s not that - because Taehyung is always paying attention, he’s always
staring. Maybe Jeongguk just feels weird because he can’t understand why Taehyung pays
attention to him.

“I suppose,” he says slowly, “it depends how I trust the person.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Taehyung says it jokingly enough, but Jeongguk can tell he’s slightly
offended.

“No, it’s not that. At all. I just...” He thinks about it a bit because, even if it makes him feel stupid
at times, he wants to tell Taehyung the truth; he doesn’t want to give him a half-arsed answer.
“Maybe it’s just our dynamic, I don’t know. Don’t wanna ruin it.” He swallows slightly. “Don’t
want you to see me as weak.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Taehyung plants a kiss on his neck. “I could never,” he
murmurs. He gets a wary look in return, and laughs. “Seriously. I respect you, like, a lot. Think it
takes a certain kind of self-confidence to willingly surrender to someone else. You’re a strong
person, Jeon.” What is it with Lit students always being able to say exactly the right thing? They’re
still asshats, but still... honestly, Jeongguk’s a little jealous. “And anyway, I only have fun if you’re
having fun.” He kisses his shoulder now. “Want it to be good for you too.”

God have mercy on Jeongguk’s frail little heart.

“Okay,” he replies, because that’s all he trusts himself to say without embarrassing himself.

“Okay.” Taehyung’s hands are on him again, bridging the gap between them, smothering him. “I
want you to feel comfortable enough to stop me. Like, if I go too far, I guess. Because honestly, I
feel like I can’t control myself with you.” His mouth’s in Jeongguk’s hair now, and he sighs a little.
“So you have to tell me. If it’s too much. Don’t expect me to know.”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk leans against him now, gasping a little as Taehyung clutches his waist. “Yeah,
okay.”

Taehyung climbs back on top of him again, his weight acting like a familiar anchor. “God, you’re
so pretty,” he murmurs, burying his face into Jeongguk’s neck. He grazes the skin with his teeth,
sucks at it. “How are you so pretty?”

Jeongguk just moans weakly in response because that’s all he’s good for when he’s like this -
when he’s putty in Taehyung’s hands. A part of him feels like this can’t be good - the dependency,
the shamelessness, the need to be suffocated - but whatever. If he likes it, he likes it; it isn’t a
power thing. And there’s something ridiculously hot about being at someone’s mercy.

“No guy has ever done this for me before,” Taehyung tells him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
There he goes again - making Jeongguk feel special. Dangerous thing.
He’s grinding down on him, hiking Jeongguk’s leg up so the skirt bunches up at his waist, so he
has better access to what’s underneath it. He starts palming at Jeongguk’s cock through the flimsy
pink fabric - slowly, methodically - the pre-cum starting to seep through. He feels almost filthy
with how wet he’s becoming, but he’s not going to shame himself for feeling good. His lips part
slightly as the pressure increases; Taehyung’s hands feel so fucking good. He plants a small kiss
every time Jeongguk whimpers a little, like he’s trying to eat up all the sounds, like he’s trying to
save them for himself.

“T’es trop beau,” he says. “Putain...”

Jeongguk laughs a little at that, breathless and wrecked. Damn, when did that happen? “Oh yeah
baby, talk that sexy French nonsense to me.”

Taehyung smiles slightly. “Sure. Ta mère ressemble à un cheval.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your mum looks like a horse.”

Well, okay then. “You’re supposed to be turning me on, not insulting my hereditary.”

“Okay, okay. Erm, j’adore tes orteils.”

“Mmm, yeah that’s better,” he says, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s neck. He stills though
when he sees the older boy’s smile. “Wait, what are orteils?”

“Toes.”

“... quit trolling me, man.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says, with a smile that says he’s anything but. “Can’t help it - t’es trop
mignon.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, it means you’re cute.”

“That’s even worse. How is that supposed to put me in the mood? Cute? Pathetic.” Jeongguk
scrunches his nose up in faux disgust. “Cute?”

With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung says, “Fine, you’re a seductive, alluring, tantalizing, erotic, sexy
god of sex. Better?”

“We’re getting there. Ease off on the thesaurus though. Tantalizing? Really?”

“You’re never satisfied, are you?”

“And ‘erotic’ makes me sound like a bad porno actor.”

“Jesus, shut up.” He presses a kiss to Jeongguk’s jaw and then finishes undoing all the buttons on
his shirt before scrambling to take his own off. “Honestly though, I don’t think I’m going to last
much longer so we need to move things along because if I prematurely ejaculate, I will never
forgive myself.”

Jeongguk nods sympathetically. “It’s the worst feeling.”

“It is. So get on your hands and knees.”

“Huh?”

“Simple instructions, Jeon: face down, ass in the air. Please and thank you.”

A bubble of laughter bursts out of Jeongguk’s mouth as he props himself up on his elbows. “Wow,
such sensitivity. Such prose. I really think there’s a lot to unpack in that choice of words - what was
the author trying to say?”

“That you’re a pain.” He starts to unzip Jeongguk’s skirt. “Is it bad that I’m sad about having to
take these off?” he says, dangling the panties in front of Jeongguk’s face. They’re a sorry sight
now - and to think they were so clean at the start of all this.

Jeongguk grimaces. “Keep them if you love them so much.”

“Eugh, don’t tempt me, because I actually will and you would never let me live it down.”

“Correct.”

Taehyung lowers himself down again to bite at Jeongguk’s already swollen lips. He moans a little.
“You’re so mean to me.”

“Meh.” Jeongguk snakes a hand behind his neck, kisses back.

“Why do I like it so much?”

“Well, according to Freud, it’s because you’re guilty about your desires to dominate, so being
knocked down a few pegs makes you feel like less of a controlling prick.”

Taehyung pinches a fold of skin on Jeongguk’s stomach, and chuckles when the younger boy
squeals. “Didn’t want an actual answer - stop psychoanalysing me, you nerd. Seriously, I can feel
the pre-jac coming. Move your ass.”

Griping, Jeongguk begins to crawl onto his hands and knees. “Aren’t you supposed to be the
campus Casanova? What happened to your stamina?”

“Pink panties happened.” Jeongguk feels Taehyung’s hands run down his sides and he instinctively
arches his back, sinks down further into the mattress. God, it’s bad how much he likes this, how
bad he wants this. “They’re my weakness, I’m telling you.”

“What an embarrassing kryptonite to have,” he murmurs, leaning into Taehyung’s touch. He wants
more pressure, wants him to push down harder. “Imagine being a superhero that’s defeated by
lingerie.”

“Doubt sustaining an erection counts as a superpower,” Taehyung says absentmindedly as his

fingers dip into the small of Jeongguk’s back. Afterwards, he moves his hands to his ass, kneading
the flesh there, soft and pliant. He makes a small sound of appreciation, and then without warning,
gives Jeongguk a hard smack. Shit. Okay, he definitely doesn’t hate that. The low growl that arises
at the back of his throat makes Taehyung laugh a little.

Jeongguk shivers, tries to stop himself from melting in the mattress. “Know a few people who’d
disagree.”

“Mhmm.”
Taehyung’s hands go to reach for something in his bedside drawer and a few moments later,
Jeongguk hears the cap of a lube bottle pop off. His breath hitches slightly as he feels his fingers
press into him, but then his body relaxes and he moans a little at the pleasant burn of the stretch.
The noise makes Taehyung start moving them in and out, quickly building up to a speed that has
Jeongguk whining against the pillow. It’s frustrating how he gets him in a state so fast - always at
Taehyung's fucking mercy, as per fucking usual.

“Just to be clear,” Jeongguk says, his voice breaking with a slight groan as Taehyung pushes
further, “I’m only using you for your fingers.”

The older boy snorts. “Uh huh.”

“I’m not joking. There is no emotional connection here.”

“Lucky me then - we got a good thing going.” He crooks his fingers slightly and Jeongguk digs his
feet deeper into the bed, tries not to shudder so violently. “Besides,” Taehyung continues, “could
never be with a guy who doesn’t have taste.”

“Eugh, you literally read French porn,” Jeongguk murmurs. “Shut the fuck up.”

Taehyung gasps, mock aghast. “ Les crimes d’amour is not porn.” The cover begs to differ. “It’s an
adult novel.”

“Okay, big boy.”

The comment earns him another smack on the ass, although Jeongguk can’t really tell if it’s a
punishment or not because truth be told, it lights a fire in him. “Fuck...”

“You done trashing my shit?” Taehyung asks. Jeongguk hears the rustle of latex behind him and
the slick slide of Taehyung rolling on the condom; his deftness is weirdly scary.

“Never,” Jeongguk murmurs. “I’m done with the prep though, so you know, just like, stick it in I
guess.”

He can hear Taehyung’s eyes rolling behind him as he grips Jeongguk’s hips and angles them
upwards, pressing him further into the mattress. “How romantic...”

“I try.” His voice probably sounds strained, but he can't bring himself to care - not when
Taehyung’s pushing into him like his, drawing something out of him like this. He’s so inconsistent
with his actions. Sometimes, his hands are rough but his words drip like honey from his lips.
Sometimes he’s so relentless and unyielding and spreading himself everywhere. Other times, like
now, he’s slow and careful and cruel, like he won’t do anything until Jeongguk asks for it, like he
wants Jeongguk to beg for it. And Jeongguk would like to think that he’s above begging, but then
Taehyung’s hands get on him and he realises that maybe he really isn’t. “Shit... please ...”

“Hmm?”

“Hurry the fuck up.”

“Awh, and here I thought you were being polite,” Taehyung says with a sneer.

“Your dick isn’t that magical,” Jeongguk replies, which makes him bark with laughter, but then
he’s tugging Jeongguk’s hair back and pushing in deeper and shit Jeongguk takes that all back
because there is something positively bewitching about Taehyung, about the way he conducts his
body, moves with confidence and ease and this je ne sais quoi that leaves Jeongguk breathless
every time. Grappling. Winded.

“Don’t speak so loud, it’ll hear you,” Taehyung tuts. The fact that he sounds anything but serious
while he’s pinning the younger boy down in a vice grip makes Jeongguk’s head spin. His cock
kicks up against his stomach, hot and hard and dripping.

After a few more moments, Taehyung bottoms out and the two of them stay like that for a while,
panting slightly, shining with sweat. When nothing further happens though, Jeongguk frowns
petulantly. “You gonna move anytime soon, Kim?”

“Dunno.” There’s a leering tone to his voice as he adds, “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

God, this guy. “Quit playing games.”

“I’m not - dead serious. Beg for me.”

Jeongguk’s heart rate triples at the words, but he still tries to keep his voice level as he says, teeth
gritted, “I don’t beg.”

“Shame.”

“Tae.”

Taehyung laughs a little at that. “Come on, let me take you apart a little Jeon, let me break you.”
He wiggles his hips slightly, and Jeongguk’s breath hitches in anticipation, but then nothing comes.
Bastard. “God knows no one else has.” And then he’s leaning forwards so his mouth is right over
Jeongguk’s ear when he says, “God knows you want it.”

And fuck, it’s annoying how perceptive he is. Annoying that Jeongguk can so easily abandon his
own pride for him. “Please,” he murmurs against the pillow.

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

“Can’t hear you, Jeon.”

Seriously? Nevermind, he’s not doing this. “Fucking--eugh. You’re such a dick.”

“Oh yeah,” Taehyung chuckles, amusement in his voice, “tell me what a big dick I am.”

Jeongguk finds himself snorting besides everything. He’s never been this pissed off and turned on
in his life; it’s a very confusing combination. “Fuck you.”

“Ooh.” He gets a disapproving tut in reply. “That’s not a nice tone.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Fuck yeah, I am. Come on, let me hear your pretty voice, Jeon - louder for me.”

“I’m not--” But then Taehyung’s grabbing hold of his hair again and wrenching his head back -
hard - and Jeongguk feels his jaw go slack, feels his mind go blank, feels desperation surge up in
him like a wave. It crashes against him, and he’s being hurled back by it, and his arms shake a little
under him and-- “Fuck! Please. Pleasepleaseplease. Fucking... shit, Tae. Fuck me.”

He’s expecting a condescending little quip in response (“All you had to say, Jeon.”) but instead,
Taehyung bends down to kiss the back of his neck, and somehow, there’s less of a sting to it. Feels
like less of a defeat. He can hear the smile in his voice when Taehyung says, “Yeah. So good for
me, Jeon.” And it should be demeaning - that’s the type of shit you say to a pet that’s done a trick
well - but fuck if the praise doesn’t make Jeongguk’s body thrum that little bit harder, make him
breathe that little bit faster. God, it’s stupid how much he likes this.

Then, Taehyung’s grabbing his hips and drawing back and thrusting in and Jeongguk feels his arms
wobble slightly again. Oh, fuck.

“Shit, wait,” Jeongguk says, trying to steady himself, except Taehyung must be allergic to the word
because he never actually listens. He thrusts harder, and deeper and faster, probably watching in
glee as Jeongguk loses his balance, as his elbows give way under him. His face plants into the
mattress but all he can do is grip the bed sheets as Taehyung lifts his hips higher, presses in deeper.
He feels delirious from it all, pleasantly disorientated, like he’s experiencing a high that he really
hopes never ends.

“Shit,” he hears Taehyung say above him, his voice wrecked in the sexiest way possible. God, how
does he make everything look good on him? How does he make even desperation sound hot?
Jeongguk cannot fathom it. “‘M close.”

“It’s been, what, a solid minute, Kim? I’m disappointed.”

“What can I say?” he clucks. “Kryptonite.”

“Ngh. You better make me come before you.”

Taehyung laughs. “It’s not a competition, Jeon.”

“Everything’s a competition.”

“Jesus, fine. Wait.” He stops moving altogether, then pulls out and just when Jeongguk’s about to
hurl every imaginable expletive he can think of at him - because what the actual fuck - he gets
flipped around onto his back. Taehyung does it so effortlessly, as if Jeongguk isn’t the gym rat out
of the two of them, as if Jeongguk isn’t probably twice his body mass in muscle alone. Oh boy, the
heart-hammering material he’s being given here is actually incredible.

“Okay, but why?” Jeongguk asks, trying to hide his inner fanboy.

“Dunno,” Taehyung says, his eyes hooded. “Wanted to see your face.”

God, Jeongguk doesn’t get how he says stuff like that so casually. “How lame.”

“That’s me,” he agrees, but then he’s smiling impishly. “And I wanted to do this.”

He uses a finger to circle around the tip of Jeongguk’s cock, watching with unmasked delight as he
watches the younger boy come undone under him. So fucking pleased with himself all the time;
Jeongguk loves it. He uses his thumb to tease at Jeongguk’s crown, stroking the top of it, revelling
in his sensitivity. And then, when he’s gotten bored of torturing him, he wraps his whole hand
around and starts pumping it. Jeongguk rarely realises how big Taehyung’s hands actually are but
staring at it, at the way his wide palm strokes down his dick, he feels light-headed, probably finds
it way sexier than he should.

He gives an unrestrained whine as Taehyung fondles with his balls. He doesn’t even have time to
recover from it though before Taehyung’s pushing in once more and Jeongguk feels winded all
over again, because it’s too much too soon, but he kind of loves how overwhelming it is. Kind of
loves everything Taehyung does. Kind of hates that fact.

He gasps a little bit as Taehyung starts thrusting again, starts grinding down on him. God give him
strength. And self-discipline. Both would be nice. (Effective immediately - amen).

“Look a bit out of breath there, Jeon,” Taehyung says, with that disrespectful, shit-eating grin of
his. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

“Could say the same thing about you,” Jeongguk counters, his lips parting slightly as Taehyung
bites at his jaw. “Don’t hurt yourself, man. Wouldn’t want your dick to get sprained.”

“Shit, can you sprain your dick?”

“Pretty sure you can fracture it. Penile trauma’s v-very much a thing.”

“Thank you for putting me off sex forever, Jeon.”

“We both know I could never do that.”

Taehyung gives him a sly glance, his eyes glinting playfully. “I don’t like what you’re
insinuating...”

He uses a thumb to stroke the vein on the underside of his cock and Jeongguk feels the muscles in
his thigh spasm uncontrollably. This is ridiculous - it’s like Taehyung has a remote control of all
the sensitive parts of his body and he’s just pressing buttons incessantly. He’s so good at it, making
Jeongguk shake like this. Could probably make anyone shake, bring anyone to their knees.
Jeongguk can’t tell if he’s turned on or pissed off by Taehyung’s experience (or his relative lack
thereof). He’s trying not to bring his own inferiority complex into things though: it’s just sex. It’s
not that deep. It’s fine.

His lack of restraint kind of scares him in these situations though, the way Taehyung seems to draw
something animalistic out of him, something instinctive. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t even do
really - he just lies there and buckles under the heat of Taehyung’s mouth, lets his body be stroked
and touched and moulded, whines loud and high-pitched because fuck, he really can’t help it. This
can’t be healthy, can it, being so attracted to someone. Being so swept up by them. Realistically.
Self-control is a virtue, right? And Jeongguk tries to remind himself of this - that submission aside,
he needs to at least have some semblance of a grip - but then Taehyung’s pinching a nipple or
pulling his hair or biting his neck and he’s spiralling again, rolling back down that hill and
honestly, he doesn’t even hate it.

“Si joli... merde... ” Somehow, his voice is even deeper when he speaks French - rough and throaty
- and oh god, Jeongguk’s going to get a boner over an accent, isn’t he? He’s totally getting a boner
over an accent. Fuck’s sake. He files that under a mental list of mild inconveniences he’s going to
have to suffer through sometime in the future, and prays it’s not in a public place. (Most of that list
already involves Taehyung; honestly, this boy is more trouble than he’s worth).

He sighs a little, leaning forwards to press their foreheads together as he hikes Jeongguk’s leg up,
presses in further. “God, I wish you could see yourself right now.” He’s staring down at him with
eyes blown wide, pupils dilated with desire, a gorgeous look of effortlessness every time he thrusts
inside him and Jeongguk’s mind thinks fuck, you too.

“No one gets turned on by themselves, stupid,” he replies, trying to keep his voice level as
Taehyung quickens the pace. He feels the older boy's hands gripping around his waist and thinks
about how they’re going to leave marks there later, bruises - little reminders that Taehyung cared
enough to do this with him.

“I know that, dumbass, I just...” He lifts Jeongguk’s leg higher now, changes the angle - deeper -
and Jeongguk almost passes out. Holy fuck. “Just want you to see what I see right now.” He
scrapes his teeth against the skin of Jeongguk’s neck, smiling a little bit, and oh boy is Jeongguk’s
heart hammering. So much. This has to be illegal. “You’re beautiful.”

There he goes again, calling him that. So unironically, so unapologetically. So carelessly.

Sometimes Taehyung crafts his sentences cleverly, masterfully - knows exactly what words to use
to piss Jeongguk off, or cheer him up, or make him laugh. But other times, he just lets them tumble
out of his mouth before he thinks, before he can consider the consequences. Sometimes he says shit
and then moves on, and Jeongguk is left in the wake of it, in the dust, holding onto all of them - the
compliments, the hidden looks, the covert smiles - all the small things Taehyung does that makes
his skin feel like it’s on fire.

Physical attraction is powerful, sure, but Jeongguk can only use it to justify certain things so many
times, can only use it to explain his reactions so many times. Eventually, he’ll have to face the fact
that ultimately, it’s not the sex that makes him feel good, it’s not even the submission; it’s the fact
that it’s Taehyung’s body on top of his, Taehyung’s eyes watching him, Taehyung’s hands pulling
him in for another dizzying kiss. When did it become like this, Jeongguk wonders; when did it stop
being self-seeking pleasure and turn into something more like companionship? Intimacy. Just
another way to spend more time with Taehyung, to get him alone, to have him to himself.
Dangerous thinking there - best ignore it. Best burn it.

But sometimes it’s real hard to, like now when Taehyung is smiling down at him with such
familiarity that it makes Jeongguk’s chest ache. He can’t imagine Taehyung ever looking at
someone else like this but honestly, that’s just because he doesn’t want to. Shit, he really doesn’t.
But Taehyung isn’t his to have or keep or want and he needs to remember that, needs to not get
carried away, or else he actually will get burned. He doesn’t need to be getting any ideas.

Taehyung comes first, pushing long and hard into Jeongguk as he rides it out. And then his hand is
on top of Jeongguk's cock, and stroking fast and hot and heavy. Selfishly. Like he’s trying to draw
an orgasm out of him, like he wants to see Jeongguk unravel for him. The intensity of it makes
Jeongguk tilt his head back without thinking, makes his vision blur. He tries to shut his legs
slightly, tries to reign in the situation, but Taehyung is so rough about it - methodical and ruthless
and unyielding - and fuck does it feel good. Jeongguk closes his eyes with a groan, his lips parted.
Heat pools in his stomach like magma as he feels the climax approaching - hot and fast and heavy.
God, he’s probably being so loud right now, crying with every stroke, every touch. He’s quivering.
He’s so far gone and he fucking loves it. And then, he feels Taehyung’s hand come up to his neck,
and squeeze it - so lightly, so gently, like feathers around his throat - and for a glorious moment, all
the breath leaves Jeongguk’s lungs and he’s so, so finished. Fuck.

His body goes rigid and then every one of his muscles loosen up simultaneously as he comes with
a shudder, feet back on Earth. He feels so disorientated now it’s stupid. Tentatively, he opens an
eye to glance up at Taehyung, who’s looking down at him with something that can only be
described as rapt awe, like he’s enchanted.

“Yeah, I really wish you could see what I see right now.” He presses a kiss to his shoulder and
Jeongguk feels his throat go dry. It’s so soft, so shameless, like Taehyung doesn’t care how corny
he sounds right now, doesn’t realise it. If this had been a line in a movie Jeongguk was watching,
he probably would have punched the screen, but now he just lies there - quiet, still, trying real hard
not to fucking tremble. Yeah, this should definitely be illegal.
“Shut up,” he murmurs after a while, because he’s not sure whether Taehyung actually wanted a
reply, but he feels like he can’t just let the silence sit between them after that sentence - it feels too
heavy, too loaded, too promising. He doesn’t need to be getting any ideas. “You lose, by the way,”
he whispers, doesn’t trust himself to speak any louder without his voice cracking.

An amused smile settles on the older boy’s face. “Guess I do. You reign supreme, Jeon - you have
ultimate dick endurance.”

Jeongguk snorts a little, rubbing his eyes as he watches Taehyung clamber off the bed. He returns
with a towel to clean the both of them up, and Jeongguk would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy
his part, because like all things Taehyung does, he’s deliberate with it - pays attention, takes care.
Makes Jeongguk feel special, makes his heart beat that little bit faster. Shit - dangerous indeed.

Afterwards, the two of them flop back onto the bed. Taehyung is stretching his long, golden limbs
as he sighs in content. “We should do this more often.”

Jeongguk scoffs. “We do do this often.”

“Yeah...” Now, he’s spreading himself out on the mattress like a happy, lazy cat. “Well, we should
do it more.”

This guy. “You’re a fucking rabbit,” Jeongguk mutters as the older boy rolls on top of him. He
smells of sweat, but in like a musky, manly way. He smells of the sea. Jeongguk doesn’t
understand how anyone can make perspiration sexy. “Insatiable, man.”

“Yeah...”

Jeongguk checks the time on the clock hanging from the wall. “What was all this talk of you
taking hours, then? Mina still has forty minutes of Physics.”

Glancing at him, Taehyung narrows his eyes. “Jeon, stop making digs at my manhood.”

“Well, they’re not unwarranted.”

He pouts. “You’re so mean to me.”

“But you like it.”

“I do.” Hearing that actually come out of his mouth makes Jeongguk’s heart start up again,
hammering against his ribcage. It’s weird how the smallest things set him off - the most
unexpected, insignificant, fucking stupid things.

He averts his gaze up at the ceiling, tries to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth
and not be so weird about things. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. “So, what should we do now?”

“Round two?” Taehyung suggests sleepily. He laughs when Jeongguk gives him a look of utter
disdain. “I’m kidding ... kind of. Very slightly.”

“Shameful.”

“Indulge me.”

“Fuck off.”

Taehyung smiles slyly at that. Then his eyes light up with a sudden excitement, and he jumps up.
“Let’s play Speed.”
 Jeongguk groans. “Let’s not, maybe. Let’s shower, perhaps.”

“Come on, one game,” he says, putting his boxers back on. Then, haphazardly throwing on the
nearest T-shirt, he heads for his desk.

“No dice, sorry.”

“Don’t be a chicken, Jeon.” He’s already gotten the cards out and is shuffling them, and Jeongguk
tries real hard not to stare while he does so. Watch his fingers work. “Defend your dignity.”

“Says the guy who always loses.”

“Today’s my day,” Taehyung says. “I can feel it. Come on. One game, man.”

Jeongguk remembers months ago when Taehyung’s adamant persistence was anything but a turn
on - when it was the source of most of his grievance. Now, he just finds it endearing. Now, he just
finds it harder and harder to say no to him. Fuck, when did that happen?

“Yeah okay,” he concedes with a huff, standing up to make his way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get clothes, dumbass. I’m not playing cards naked.”

Taehyung pouts. “Keep the skirt on.”

“... no.”

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Why?”

“For my own deranged sexual fantasies. Obviously.”

Jeongguk smiles a little. “Obviously.” He hesitates before adding, “Maybe next time,” because a
part of him wants to see Taehyung’s eyes light up with unadulterated glee. Because a part of him is
weak when it comes to stuff like that.

“I’m holding you to it,” Taehyung says, starting to arrange the cards out on the table.

Jeongguk walks out into the corridor and takes a deep breath because he really needs to calm down.
He can deal with feeling out of his depth sometimes, he can deal with willingly giving up control,
he can deal with not having Taehyung all to himself. What he cannot deal with is the fact that his
heart is thumping at a million miles an hour for no fucking reason just because the guy grinned at
him. Jesus Christ, could he get any more pathetic? It doesn’t mean anything, he reminds himself. It
doesn’t mean shit. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe. It means nothing. Breathe,
Jeongguk.

Don’t get any ideas.

Chapter End Notes

Welcome to: Learn French with Fictional Tae pt. 2 (soon you’ll be a native):
T'es trop beau, putain = you're so beautiful, fuck
J'adore tes orteils = I love your toes
Les crimes d'amour = crimes of love
Si joli = so pretty
Merde = shit (or ‘good luck’, depending on the context, because the French didn’t
think that would be confusing)

(All essential phrases, ik. Try the second one out next time you’re on holiday and see
how far it gets you - you’d be surprised).
 Chapter Six
Chapter Notes

So, I’ve realised that there are quite a few western references in this for a fic that’s
meant to be set in Korea, but in my mind, the Jeongguk in this universe watches a
bunch of American films (Hollywood domination and dat), and half of Taehyung’s
family is French anyway, so I mean. Don’t know why I felt the need to justify that -
guess I just like it when things make sense; I’m sure you’re the same.

(This is really just a weak admission of the fact that I don’t know enough about
Korean pop culture to do references to it justice. Key tip: only write about things you
know about, and then you always end up seeming smarter than you actually are -
because god knows I’m not. Enjoy the chapter my lovelies):

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The holidays pass in a blur. Granted, Jeongguk doesn’t spend any of it doing anything even
remotely productive, but he’s never sitting still long enough to feel bad about that anyway; time
flies when you’re having fun with your hyungs.

He’s missed Busan, he’s missed the beach, he’s missed swimming in the sea with Namjoon and
Seokjin, he’s missed crab fishing with his brother. He’s missed the four of them prowling through
the summer heat of the multicoloured city at night, entering bars that none of them can really
afford, laughing too loud and then laughing again the next morning when they remember all the
dumb shit they did. Oh, to be young and stupid; it’s a beautiful thing.

Also, since Busan’s near the coast, it doesn’t get ridiculously hot like most cities in the centre of
the country. It’s still hot regardless though, and Jeongguk’s been finding it real hard to fall asleep
lately since his room is practically a furnace. He can feel the sweat condensing on his skin as he
lies motionless against his pillow and honestly, he’s more than a little grossed out.

He’s about to stand up to get what will be this fifth cup of water tonight when his phone screen
lights up: a call from Taehyung.

When he answers it, he hears, “You awake?”

“Considering I just picked up, that’s a pretty dumb question. You realise that, right? You sound
dumb, Kim.”

There’s a breath of laughter on the other side, quiet but refreshing. The sleepy huskiness of it
makes something stir in Jeongguk’s stomach and okay, maybe he’s missed that laugh... a little bit.

“What are you wearing right now?” Taehyung asks.

Eugh, never mind. Fucking sleaze.

“Please don’t tell me you’re trying to initiate phone sex with me at one in the morning,” Jeongguk
gripes.

“Come on, humour me.”

“Sure. I’m wearing grey shorts and a Mario t-shirt.”

“How sexy.”

“I know right, visualise that shit.”

“Take off the shirt.”

“Taehyung.”

“Fine,” he laughs. “At least talk dirty to me.”

This guy. “Dirty, yeah? Garbage disposal units.”

“Oooh.”

“Fridge handles.”

“Keep it coming.”

“The bathroom after Yoongi’s had seaweed.”

“I’m drooling, Jeon. Literally frothing at the mouth.”

“Don’t doubt it - I know how to get the imagination running.”

“Okay, now touch yourself.”

Yeah, Jeongguk cannot take this seriously. “Go to bed,” he scoffs.

“Awh, but Jeon I need you.”

“No, you need your hand and some lotion - go to bed, Kim.”

“Hey, wait,” Taehyung murmurs. “Stay on the line.” He can practically hear the lazy grin in the
other’s voice as he says, “Just wanna hear your voice, you know, wanna talk.”

And suddenly, Jeongguk becomes all too aware of his heart, which is currently beating in his chest
like a drum. Shit.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to stay calm, trying (and failing) not to read into it too much. He hates his
brain sometimes. “Erm, what do you wanna talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” He hears rustling on the other side as Taehyung shifts around in his bed,
readjusting. “You haven’t called me all month, frankly I’m a bit offended.”

“I’m not really a phone call kind of guy, to be honest.”

“Too bad, because I am.”

Jeongguk smiles. “What, so I have to accommodate for that?”

“Yes. What have you been doing all summer?”

“Nothing much, really. Swimming, I guess... I’ve been reading a bit.”

“Yeah?” It’s weird how the joy in Taehyung’s voice makes Jeongguk’s heart hammer that much
harder.

“Err, yeah. The Only Child was pretty good.”

“Mi-ae Seo is a talented woman.”

“She is. Honestly though, I didn’t really like Lord of the flies.”

“... what?”

“Yeah, I mean I get it has important concepts or whatever, but I just found it too hard to read.
Guess I’m not really into dystopian survival stories, I don’t know.”

“But it isn’t a dystopian survival story - it’s an allegory for society. It’s about man’s destructive
nature and how we use fear to control people.”

And usually, Jeongguk wouldn’t like being lectured or patronised, but he guesses that when
Taehyung does it, it doesn’t feel like either of those things; it’s just him talking about something he
really loves. It’s cute. So he lets him ramble on about the symbolism of the beast, and who Jack
represents, and totalitarian governments and whatnot. Some of it’s interesting, some of it goes way
over his head, but he listens anyway because, well. There’s probably a part of him that likes
hearing Taehyung’s voice a little too much.

Jeongguk returns back to Sunyeong earlier than most courses resume because over summer, he
realised just how dirt poor he was and he needs more shifts at Park’s pronto. He guesses he didn’t
really suffer that much because when you’re friends with someone like Seokjin, you can afford not
going out to eat every night anyway but still, his lack of finances is super worrying. What the hell
has he been spending all his money on? Where did it all go?

He lugs his way-too-large suitcase up the stairs again - no hyungs to help him out this time, the
snakes - and goes to get the key from his pocket when he realises that the door’s open. So
someone’s already here, huh?

He drags his luggage inside and drops down on the sofa, waiting for said early comer to reveal
themselves. Sure enough, a door along the corridor creaks open a few moments later and Taehyung
warily peaks his head out to stare down into the living room. He got rid of the bleached hair over
summer; now his loose, dark curls fall over his face. Their eyes meet and Taehyung smiles but
there’s something off about it. Wobbly.

“Didn’t peg you to be the kind of person to willingly give up days of your holiday,” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah well, my summer was pretty boring, so I’m not even sad being back.”

“Huh, can’t relate - I had a great time.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus Jeon, at least try and sympathise with me.”

Jeongguk grins up at him, but even something about the quip falls flat. It’s not playful, just weary
and tired. “Hey... you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung says. He’s still hovering in his doorframe like he’s ready for the
conversation to be over so he can go back into his bedroom. Jeongguk’s a little hurt to be honest.
Isn’t he at least going to challenge him to Speed? Suggest an awful drama to him? Give him
another book recommendation? They haven’t hung out in two months, and this is the treatment he
gets?

It’s then that he realises the slight redness to Taehyung’s eyes, like he was rubbing them dry
beforehand. “... are you crying?”

“Nope,” Taehyung says with a pop of his lips.

Well then. Jeongguk stays silent for a few moments, like that will make Taehyung retract his
words, but when he doesn’t add anything, Jeongguk sighs and tries a different approach. “Okay,
why were you crying?”

Taehyung shrugs. “No reason.”

“No reason?”

“Yeah Jeon, does a man need a reason? Maybe I just felt like it. Maybe it’s just cathartic.”

Okay, Jeongguk really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. In movies, characters usually
just blurt out all their worries and anxieties and shit. He didn’t know this would require work on his
end, that this would require some digging.

“Erm, do you want some tea?”

Taehyung squints a little. “What?”

“Tea?” Jeongguk clears his throat slightly. “My erm, my mum gave me this gift set while I was
home. Think it has chamomile. That’s your favourite, right? Do you want a cup?”

Taehyung’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, finally closing his bedroom door behind him.
“Sure.”

They sit down on the sofa with their respective mugs, sipping tentatively as they stare at the wall
behind the TV.

“So, why was your summer so boring then?” Jeongguk asks.

Taehyung shrugs again. “Yoongi’s the only one who lives anywhere near me, but he was in
Incheon most of the time visiting family so, I dunno - guess I just didn’t have anyone to hang out
with. I was in my room most of the time.”

“Should’ve come down to Busan,” Jeongguk says. “It’s only an hour away right? You could’ve
stayed with me - I give pretty banging tours if I do say so myself.”

“You never offered.”

“You never asked.”

“I wouldn’t impose myself like that,” Taehyung says, even though in Jeongguk’s mind, he’s the
last person who would even care about ‘imposing himself’. “Next time, offer.”

“Sure,” Jeongguk says.

“Cool.”

A flat silence falls between them again and Jeongguk gets the inexplicable urge to push the corners
of Taehyung’s lips into a smile, if only to appease his own worries about him. “Seriously, what’s
eating you?”

Taehyung looks at him. “I... nothing. Jesus, do I have to be perky all the time for you to assume
there’s nothing wrong with me? Can’t I just be?”

He doesn’t even raise his voice - just says it coldly - but it’s enough to make Jeongguk bristle, to
piss him off. “Sorry for caring, I guess.”

Another silence. Jeongguk grips his mug a little tighter, stares at the wall a little harder. Then,
Taehyung’s sighing again. “I’m just... sad, I suppose. But, like, at nothing in particular. Just at the
world. I dunno, just feel numb. But I’m not depressed or anything - and I’m allowed to feel bad
sometimes - so, you know, I would appreciate it if you didn’t act like it was so unnatural or
whatever.”

“Right.” Jeongguk takes another sip of his chamomile, feeling weirdly chastened. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Taehyung looks like he’s about to stop talking, but then he adds a, “Just... shit, I dunno.
Do you ever feel like you’re just pretending all the time?”

Where the fuck did that come from? And how does Jeongguk react to that? Agreeing would sound
like an empty platitude, and saying no would just be insensitive. But isn’t staying silent equally as
awkward? Okay, he already hates this; he wants to stop all of this. Luckily, like always, Taehyung
doesn’t seem to expect an actual response; he just continues.

“I feel like people assume I’m this dragon, or something. They treat me like it - this mythical
creature - and they either hate me, or they love me, but none of them know me, you know?” He
slouches down slightly to rest his head against the top of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s
exhausting, having to be a spectacle all the time. Just so people will look at me, or care, or
whatever.”

Yeah, now Jeongguk really doesn’t know what to say. He’d be a shitty therapist. He has a thousand
potential replies in his head, but the more he thinks about them (ie. overanalyses), the more banal
and corny and empty they sound. What does Taehyung want to hear? Does he want Jeongguk to
say what he wants to hear though or what Jeongguk actually thinks about it? Does he want a
sympathetic smile or would he hate the pity? Fuck’s sake; Jeongguk wishes he had a script.

“Who’s they?” he asks. “People on campus?” It’s true that Taehyung is quite infamous - or at least
as infamous as you can be in one of the largest universities in the country. He always thought
Taehyung liked that though, liked the fact that people talked about him. He never seemed phased
by it at the very least. He was attention-seeking, enjoyed having eyes on him, and even if you
weren’t the biggest fan of him, you couldn’t deny the fact that Taehyung was worth looking at; his
confidence was magnetic.

“I dunno.” Taehyung looks so solemn right now, so glum. God, Jeongguk really wants him to go
back to being impish. Or mean. He could deal with mean. “Everyone. Everybody. No one fucking
knows me and it’s so tiring.” And then his expression changes of one of sadness to resignation.
“But I guess that’s kind of on me too so... I don’t know why I’m complaining about it like I can’t
change it. Sorry - you shouldn’t have to deal with my rambling. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

When Jeongguk still doesn’t respond, he tries to give him a convincing smile. “Seriously Jeon, I’m
good. People just feel down sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, I just...” He’s never seen Taehyung feel down before. He doesn’t know why it
throws him off so much - like, of course the guy has different settings other than default, that’s just
a given. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t know how to comfort him because he really just can’t
relate: Jeongguk’s pretty straight-forward with everyone he meets, maybe to a fault (ie. he’s a bit of
an insufferable dickhead at times) but that means the only people in his life are people who like
that side of him, or at least accept it. He doesn’t feel the need to impress because he doesn’t care
enough to, doesn’t see why he would. He would kill for Taehyung’s confidence though, to be able
to walk into a room and own it.

“If you ever feel down again I guess, you can talk to me about it.” He tries to say it nonchalantly
enough, but he also knows he’ll blush if he actually makes eye contact with Taehyung so he stares
intently at his feet.

Taehyung scoffs a little, albeit jokingly. He seems grateful though - there’s a softness in his voice.
“Yeah, okay. Thank you, psychotherapist.”

“It’s a high hourly rate,” Jeongguk warns him. “My appointments are in popular demand.”

“Seeing as you said a good two sentences in the last ten minutes, I really doubt your appointments
are all that.”

“Don’t criticise my professionalism.” Then he adds, “Eat shit.”

“Ah,” Taehyung sighs. “Irony is a gift from god.”

It’s just the two of them in the dorms for the next fortnight and it’s honestly kind of strange. Not
that Jeongguk has never spent time alone with Taehyung - although to be fair, it is something
foreign to him: unless they’re fooling around in his bedroom - or drunkenly getting it on at a party -
they never really just sit together in the same place and talk for the sake of talking. With the others
still back in their hometowns though, they only have each other. Jeongguk’s an early bird so he
usually gets up and goes for a swim at an ‘ungodly hour in the morning’, according to Taehyung,
but when he gets back, Taehyung will always undoubtedly be up and waiting for him so they can
eat breakfast together. Honestly, it’s pretty cutesy. Nauseatingly so. Dangerously so.

Living alone with Taehyung makes it feel like they’re a couple because there are no bounds to
where acts of affection can occur anymore. He’ll be in the kitchen getting a snack from the fridge
and Taehyung will pad in and just grab him by the waist and kiss him on the neck, or he’ll be lying
on the sofa (watching an actual decent show) and Taehyung will climb on top of him and just hold
him because why not? Because who’s going to say anything? At this point, he’s pretty sure
everyone else knows they’re sleeping together (Mina found the panties in Taehyung’s room - there
was no going back from that) but he’d still feel very, very weird about kissing Taehyung in front of
Hoseok, or really anyone they were both mutually friends with. Not the vibe.

And anyway, it would probably send out the wrong message because they’re not dating. They’re
not. Even if Taehyung makes him omelettes in the morning, even if Taehyung gives him back
massages at night, even if Jeongguk’s toes curl up and tingle every time Taehyung kisses him.
Even if there’s a small, miniscule, tiny, incy wincy, hidden part of Jeongguk that sometimes...
wishes they were.

But two weeks doesn’t change anything. Two weeks changes shit. Maybe there has been a scary
amount of wish fulfillment recently but Jeongguk has to remember that Taehyung’s only
voluntarily spending so much time around him because there’s no one else here: Sunyeong’s a
ghost town without the students. There are no parties, there’s no one to go clubbing with, there’s no
one to get off your face and hook up with. It’s just the two of them and the other handful of kids
who decided to return early. It’s just that. It doesn’t mean anything. Everyone will come back
eventually and everything will go back to normal.

He’s enjoyed spending time with Taehyung without the others though. He feels like he always sees
a different side of him when he doesn’t have Hoseok egging him on to do stupid things, or Mina to
gossip with, or Yoongi yelling at him for just being an overall dipshit. It’s obvious they’re close -
in the way they bounce off each other, the way they make each other laugh - but still, he’s different
when he’s not around them. Softer. He teases less and talks more.

Jeongguk learns that Taehyung has a thing for the past: stories, relics, heirlooms. He likes learning
about his family history, likes talking about it, about events that shaped the world, and Jeongguk
probably indulges him way too much, but in all honesty, it’s nice sometimes, just hearing his voice.
Today’s topic of conversation: Taehyung’s grandfather.

“His name was Sangook, and he was born in 1925 in Daegu. He lived through two war periods,
which just, like, baffles me. He fought in the Korean War, he was a sergeant.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Yeah... I never met him. He died pretty young, I don’t know what of. But I’ve heard so many
things about him, you know? He was a really cool guy. He got tinnitus from the war - because of
all the loud explosions and gunfire and everything - and he’d pretty much lost his hearing by fifty,
but he was just so... happy. He had this sort of inner peace about him that he didn’t let his
circumstances ruin. It’s just... pretty admirable, I don’t know. Because he endured so much shit,
and like disease and hardship and he just dealt with it. What a guy. I want to be more like him... I
guess.”

He smiles a little bit to himself, abashed. “Sorry if I’m boring you.” He says that every time, like
he could ever bore Jeongguk. Like that could ever be a possibility.

“Is that him?” Jeongguk asks softly, nodding to the black and white photos balancing on
Taehyung’s thigh.

“Err, yeah... it’s erm...” He picks them up and passes them over. “That’s him on the first National
Korean Independence Day in 1945. Their whole city came out to celebrate. Well, I guess the whole
country did. Masses and masses of people. It would’ve been cool to experience that. Just stand
there and be a part of it, you know.”

“So cool,” Jeongguk agrees.

“The second one... shit, I don’t actually remember. Think it’s just him wearing his military
uniform. It’s like 1948, around that time. And then the last one is 1970, and he’s with all his
friends from the army. Pretty sure most of them had left by then, but they’re all still wearing their
dog tags. Dunno, think it’s cute.”

Jeongguk hands them back, and leans against Taehyung’s chest, feels the vibrations against his
back as the older boy continues speaking. “I feel like because I grew up in France, I heard so many
stories about my European ancestors, and World War Two, and obviously, it’s important to know
that side of myself too, but I just... feel like history’s always been written from the perspective of
the west. Even Gwangbokjeol doesn’t feel like it belongs to us, because it’s America that liberated
us. They control the narrative; they come out as the heroes. I never learned any of this stuff when
we were in Provence because my dad never talked about it, so I guess I just feel like it’s my duty to
learn it myself. Feel like I owe my grandfather that much.
“You know,” he mumbles into Jeongguk’s hair, “you can tell me when I’m speaking too much. I
won’t be offended.”

“You’re not,” Jeongguk assures him. “Tell me about your farmhouse.”

He’s listened to the description a good five times by now, but he just really likes how Taehyung
talks about it - with a warmth, with a longing for home. He likes the depth he goes into, the way he
always gives more time, more attention to a different aspect each time he recounts it: the rundown
mill on their property; the grey brick well; the stone archway that leads into the garden; the bay
window that overlooks miles, and miles, and miles of lavender fields - endless purple. He likes
how he can picture it in his head so vividly, how he can hear the creak of the wooden gate, feel the
crunch of the gravel driveway under his foot. He’d always prefered movies because it just seemed
more real when he could see everything - all the little details, the visual clues, the subtle character
mannerisms - but listening to Taehyung makes him think maybe books aren’t that bad either.

Maybe words are only as good as your imagination.

“We’re going on a road trip,” Taehyung says one day when Jeongguk comes back from his swim.
It’s the Thursday before the week that courses resume. Most students are coming back during the
weekend, so this will probably be the last day that he and Taehyung have alone together. He wants
to commemorate it, huh? Cute.

“Oh, are we?” Jeongguk muses curiously.

“Well, it’s like half an hour away so I mean - maybe not the best term to describe it - but we’re
going en voiture, so you know.”

“Bold of you to assume I know what the fuck a voiture is. Sounds dangerous. You planning to
kidnap me, Kim?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” When Jeongguk just gets a jaded look in response, he rolls his
eyes. “Okay, where are we going then?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a surprise. I want to show you somewhere.”

“Wait, you’re taking me to a secret place?” Jeongguk gasps in mock delight. “That’s some YA teen
romance novel shit Kim, how many cliché boxes do you want to tick?”

“Might as well go for all of them since you’ll bully me regardless. Jesus, at least respect me for
making lunch for both of us.”

“What is the lunch though? Peanut butter sandwiches?”

Taehyung lifts a picnic hamper that was hiding behind the kitchen bar onto the worktop and
honestly, Jeongguk thinks a part of himself melts a little bit. “That’s adorable,” he says. “And also
the lamest thing you have ever done.”

“Yeah, I’ll take that,” Taehynug nods solemnly. “I’ve always wanted to do this, okay - indulge
me.”

“What, make a picnic?” Jeongguk asks. “You must have the most unnoteworthy bucket list.”
“Yeah, guess swimming with sharks doesn’t cut it.”

“I mean, I’m walking on the wing of a plane, so honestly yeah - get on my level.”

“You’re too alpha for me.”

“Don’t cry about it.”

The car ride there is actually pretty nice. Taehyung’s taste in music is questionable - but then
again, so is everything regarding him and taste, Jeongguk’s just resigned himself to that fact. He
feels good though, being in the passenger seat, staring at the open, empty road ahead; there’s
something strangely freeing about it, travelling this straight stretch of tarmac and not knowing
where it leads. And the weather right now is gorgeous - the last of the summer sun shining into
September; this gentle, coaxing breeze. It’s too perfect. He feels like he’s in a movie.

“You’re a surprisingly smooth driver,” he tells Taehyung. There’s a bobblehead Shakespeare on

the surface above the glove compartment and he flicks at it distractedly as Taehyung gives him an
amused side glance.

“Surprisingly?” he says. “Thought I gave off that vibe - you know: elegant, gentlemanly
chauffeur.”

Jeongguk scrunches up his nose. “No, it’s more: reckless, crashed mum’s Porsche last night after a
party with no repercussions.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue in acknowledgement. “Ah. Guess I do do my fair share of reckless
crashing.” His fingers flex around the driving wheel slightly. “Do you have a car?”

“No, I never learned to drive before uni.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Honestly,” Jeongguk says, with a shrug, “I couldn’t be bothered. Busan isn’t small, but I could
bike to most places I needed to get too, and I always had my brother to take me. Or Namjoon or
Seokjin hyung.”

Taehyung gives his head a sad, little shake. “So, you were their slave driver,” he sighs. “And you
say I’m the spoilt one.”

“Just didn’t see the point in wasting my time or money. I was being resourceful.”

“Mmm hmm.” Taehyung subconsciously bites his lower lip for a moment as he thinks. “Always
assumed you’d be super independent ‘cuz you’re so, like, you know...”

Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow. “So...?”

“You know.”

“Do I, Kim?”

“You do.” Taehyung laughs a little, light and airy. “Brutish, I don’t know.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to snort now. “Brutish? Jesus, what am I to you, a bull?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“Dunno - read it how you want.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips, and Jeongguk knows he’s just
trying to wind him up, get him biting back and proving his point. Eugh, fuck that.

He sinks into his seat, feeling weirdly petulant. “God, is this what I sound like?”

Taehyung laughs again. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Damn. I’m fucking annoying.”

“Agreed.”

He’s smiling now, although he reverts back to his stony expression when Taehyung catches his eye
in the mirror. “I guess,” he says after a while, “I mean, I am independent. I never expected
anything from anyone when I was a kid, I just kind of dealt with shit. But I’m used to being the
youngest all the time, so maybe I got doted on more than I’d want to admit. It was nice though -
being looked after, I guess. I like it.”

Taehyung hums a little. “Yeah, I noticed, you brat.”

“Eugh, shut up. It’s the only perk of being the maknae - if you were in my shoes, you’d totally
abuse this power.”

“Nah, don’t think I would.”

“Oh, righteous as ever, Kim.”

“No, I mean...” He chuckles with a slight shake of his head. “Some people just like the looking
after part more.”

“Oh,” is Jeongguk’s (very intelligent) reply. “Yeah, I guess.”

And then he thinks about the picnic, and the back rubs, and the omelettes, and how Taehyung is
probably one of those people, and how he likes that fact a little too much. It’s a bit dangerous how
they go together so well, but not perfectly. Two puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit; a fantasy that will
never become reality. But somehow, it still feels real enough to touch - to look at, to imagine - and
Jeongguk hates that a whole lot more. Feels like he’s chasing ghosts.

They’re relatively quiet the rest of the way there - Taehyung crooning softly to songs under his
breath, and Jeongguk pretending he can’t hear him - until they finally arrive at their destination:

“Hallasan Topping,” Jeongguk murmurs, reading the sign. He takes in their surroundings: a dirt
path in front of them, trees lining the irregular edges, an old, wooden bench at the bottom of the
hill, and dense bushes. “What is this place?”

“The closest thing to a mountain Sunyeong’s ever gonna get,” Taehyung replies. “It’s so much
better at the top, trust me.” His enthusiasm seems to disappear completely though when they’ve
gotten out of the car and approach the foot of the hill. “I always hate this part,” he grumbles,
looking up at the ascent. Then he’s thrusting his arms wide open, the picnic basket rocking wildly
in his right hand as he beams at Jeongguk. “Carry me?”

Jeongguk walks straight past him: fuck no.

He sighs. “Be like that then.”

“I will. This was your idea, Kim - use your own calves.”

“I don’t have any,” he sulks. “These calves are for show, they’re not functional.”

He still follows Jeongguk up the hill begrudgingly, complaining (rather vocally) the entire way.
When they reach the top though, Jeongguk drowns his words out because this place is kind of--

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Taehyung says, and there’s an adorable sense of elation in his voice amidst his
breathlessness.

Jeongguk gazes down at the miles and miles and miles of endless green. The trees look like a
forest blanket from up here, the clouds forming a thin veneer of mist that covers it, and there’s
something unbelievably serene about it. Still. A moment frozen in time. A postcard picture.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says. “Real pretty.”

They set up the picnic a few metres below the peak - further into the woods - because Taehyung
wants to lie under the shade of the trees, and as far as picnics go (well, Jeongguk doesn’t have a lot
of examples to draw on for comparison - this isn’t a common occurrence in his life - but still), he’s
impressed.

“What are these?” he asks Taeyung, picking up a dainty-looking pastry.

“Gougères,” he replies. “They’re, like, mini cheese puffs.”

“Ooh.” Jeongguk approves. He pops one into his mouth and bites into it, and it’s as soft as a
marshmallow. “Huh. Very nice.”

“Means a lot, Jeon.”

“Figured it would.” He takes another one. “You made them?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re not that hard” - as someone whose cooking skills are less than subpar, that
show of humility only makes Jeongguk kind of want to punch him in the face - “and mine aren’t
even great. Cosette was amazing at baking, honestly. She was the one who taught me how to make
these.” After a pause of thought, he adds, “Taught me most things I know about cooking actually.”

And the image warms Jeongguk slightly, makes him smile: ten-year old Taehyung mixing pastry
dough with his small, little hands, that same look of focused concentration he has whenever he’s
doing something he wants to do well. Cosette crowding in behind him, inspecting his work, patting
his hair in praise. He wonders what Taehyung was like as a child, if he had that same intensity in
his eyes even then.

“That’s cute,” Jeongguk says, continuing to rifle through the hamper. He opens up some
tupperware and looks inside. They’re foil-covered sandwiches, but when he unwraps one of them,
he can’t tell what the filling is.

“Onion soup grilled cheese,” Taehyung explains. “It’s better than it sounds - believe me. Didn’t
want to risk bringing actual soup, so this was the next best thing.”

“Ah.” He opens another one. “This salad?”

“Mediaterrean salad.”
“You guys like putting onion in everything, don’t you?”

“Huh. Yeah, pretty much.”

“When did you have time to make all this shit?” he marvels.

“I’m a stealthy guy.”

And the statement makes Jeongguk snort because really, Taehyung is decidedly the opposite -
deliberately loud about everything he does. “But you’re not?”

“Don’t doubt me, Jeon. I’m great when it comes to surprises - I’m a master at them.”

“Is that so?” Jeongguk says, eating another gougère. “I’m sure you are. Guy with a lot of secrets,
huh?”

Taehyung grins at that, cat-like and feral. “Sure.”

“Hmm.” He glances around again, looks up at the trees. “Feel like I’m in Call me by your name.
Quick, give me a book so I can bask in the sun and pretend to read it.” But when Taehyung
actually does procure a copy of Madame Bovary from his bag, Jeongguk scrunches up his nose in
disgust. “Gonna pretend I didn’t see that.” That earns an eye roll. “Dude, next time we should
totally cycle here.”

“That’s, like, a two hour bike ride.”

“I don’t care - if Timothée Chalamet can do it, so can I.” Taehyung gives him a dubious look.
“Living out one’s cinematic fantasies requires effort on one’s end, okay Kim? Don’t ruin this for
me.”

“Uh huh.”

Jeongguk scrunches up a ball of foil and bites into one of the grilled cheese sandwiches. Turns out
it’s not as bad as it sounds. “Okay,” he says, after a while, turning back to look at Taehyung, “since
you’re working through the cliché checklist, what significance does this place have to you? Let me
guess, someone you love died here. No... too macabre. Erm, you used to come here as a family.
You had your first kiss here. You use it as a way to flee the outside world and get story
inspiration.”

“Actually, I saw it when I was driving up from Daegu one day and thought it looked cool. But
yeah, I mean it’s a good environment for writing, I guess.”

Jeongguk gives a slow shake of his head. “Wow, how... mundane. I’m disappointed.”

“You’re impossible to please.”

“Okay, at least tell me that I’m the only one you’ve brought here.”

“... nope.”

He pretends to sulk. “And here I was thinking I was special. Thought you were a romantic, Kim.”

“I am a romantic. Why else would I make such an unnecessarily large picnic?”

“Pretty sure middle-aged mums with too much time on their hands pull the same shit - you’re not
cute.” Taehyung snorts. “At least tell me we’re gonna do something nauseatingly adorable, like
watch the sun set or something.”

“Your wish is my command. Seems a bit tame, but you know.”

“Well, I’m not about to have sex with you in a forest.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Taehyung says, in a voice that suggests he’s actually been thinking a lot
about it.

“God, you sleaze. Your libido’s actually scary. Next thing I know, you’ll be wanting to have beach
sex. Beach sex, Kim. That shit’s messy. Sand everywhere - in every orifice.”

“Pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“Pretty sure I’m pretty sure when I have sand up my ass. Anyway, we’re in the woods - what if
there’s, like, a family hiking around here? We’d traumatise the kids.”

“This place is pretty secluded,” Taehyung says, lying down on his back. “I guarantee you no one’s
coming past here in the next few hours.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Jeongguk replies. “Because now I’m fully convinced I’m being
kidnapped.”

“Only way back home is with my car Jeon, so I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Bold of you to assume I couldn’t outrun you.”

Taehyung kicks him in the shins. “Yeah, I get it. You’re fit; I’m not. Now shut the fuck up, I’m
trying to enjoy the view.”

“What, and you need silence for that?” Jeongguk scoffs. “Fucking weak, Kim. You ever heard of
multitasking?” But when Taehyung gives him an especially exasperated look, he does grow quiet,
the corners of his upturned mouth quivering slightly as he suppresses a smile.

He lies down on his back too, pretends he’s looking up at the sky but really, he’s just looking at
Taehyung. Watches him as he fans his face with a hand in vain. Watches him as he carefully
unwraps the foil of a sandwich. Watches him as he gets out Madame Bovary again and starts to
read.

And as he watches, something strange happens - the world tilts. And sunlight starts dripping down
on him - like honey - pouring out of the sky and onto his skin, makes him shine with it. Golden.
Like he’s the centre of creation, the star everything orbits around - this centripetal force pulling and
pulling, and Jeongguk feels a weird urge to... what? Kiss him maybe? Get closer to him. Climb on
top of him. Press his body against him and see if he’s as warm as he looks right now and--huh,
what a weird train of thought. Dumb idolisation shit - Taehyung made him food, that doesn’t make
him a god; the shine’s probably just sweat.

Is he horny right now? (Possibly. Probably. He is, like, seventy percent of the time). Taehyung’s
perpetual touchiness is rubbing off on him it seems. Maybe he just appreciates what it means to
hold something, have something solid pressing against him - it’s a nice feeling, a comforting heat.
He never initiates any of that stuff though; he wonders how Taehyung would react to it now - him
rolling over to him, putting an arm around him. He’d probably be happy - his eyes lighting up with
that same glee he gets whenever Jeongguk does something that surprises him.

But then Taehyung glances his way and catches him staring, and Jeongguk decides okay, maybe
not. Maybe look away.

He feigns nonchalance as he turns his head slowly to gaze around at the trees, feels his heart
climbing up his throat and can’t for the life of him think why. Wills it to stay down in his chest
where it belongs. He feels so strangely stupid - like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t
even aware of. Wonders what expression Taehyung is watching him with right now and kind of
really doesn’t want to know. He’s dizzy suddenly, disorientated - needs to get his blood pumping
again.

He stands up and Taehyung narrows his eyes at him. “What are you up to?”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Nothing.” He cracks his neck slightly. “Just wanna do something. Let’s go on a
walk. Come on, Kim, I’m a doer. Thought you were too.”

Taehyung looks up with an unimpressed frown “Yeah, well sometimes, I’m a sitter. Like now.
Fucking sit.”

“Nah,” he laughs, shaking the hair out of his eyes slightly as he stretches his arms above his head.
“Come on, this place is huge. You saying you don’t wanna explore it?”

“Exactly. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Okay, don’t follow me then,” he replies, but Taehyung’s already sighing in resignation and
putting the book back into his bag. “Not forcing you, Kim.”

“Eh, gotta make sure you don’t die.”

“What’s even up here?” Jeongguk asks. “Chipmunks? Pretty sure I could hold my own.”

“Don’t underestimate those buggers.”

“Yeah, and having you around will really help with that huh, Mr Carry Me Up The Hill.”

“One more dig at my capability, Jeon - let’s see what happens to you.”

“Ooh. I’m quaking.”

Taehyung nods in satisfaction. “As you should be.”

They walk through the woods for a few minutes until Jeongguk hears it - the gentle twinkling of
nearby water - and sure enough, when they reach a clearing amidst a grove of trees--

“Whoa, there’s a lake here?” And the Timthoée Chalamet vibes intensify.

Taehyung’s facial expression goes from being wary to downright scared when Jeongguk pulls his
shirt up and over his head. “What are you doing...?”

“Oh come on Kim, you’re down for beach sex, but not skinny dipping?”

“Yes. Precisely.”

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes as he shucks off his jeans, and then his boxers, and then he’s standing
buck naked in the middle of a forest and feeling oddly triumphant about it.

“All I’m saying,” Taehyung warns, as he watches Jeongguk dip a toe in tentatively, “is you don’t
know what kind of shit is in that water.”
“Since when were you one to think things through, Kim? Live a little recklessly.”

“Maybe I just don’t want cholera.”

“Then don’t drink it, dumbass.”

Jeongguk shivers a little as he steps inside, the water pooling around his waist in ripples as he gets
deeper and deeper. And then he submerges himself fully, feels the iciness engulf him before
slowly disappearing. His senses are hazy, and everything is formless, and suddenly, he’s back in
Busan again, in the ocean, staring down into the deep, never-ending barrel of its darkness and
realising how much of the world is hidden from him - how many amazing mysteries. It fills him
with a sense of wonder. He loves how weightless he is in water - without restraint, limitless. This is
a feeling he’ll never get bored of.

When he remerges, his fringe matted against his forehead, Taehyung is still looking less than
convinced. “You know,” Jeongguk says, amused, “this is the first time you’ve ever hesitated to
take off your clothes.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t slut shame me, Jeon - have some decency.” There’s a slight anxiety to his
tone though.

“Don’t tell me you can’t swim...” Jeongguk laughs a little when he doesn’t receive a response.
“No, seriously? Cosette never taught you?” he teases. “That woman did you a great disservice.”

“I know how to,” Taehyung replies, a bit defensive. “I’m just not... the best at it? I don’t know,
water makes me panicky. And if I drown, that’s blood on your hands.”

“I’ll take those odds.”

He’s aghast. “You have no soul. None.”

Jeongguk just clicks his tongue in agreement, lying on his back to scull water while Taehyung
glares at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “Is it cold?” he asks, finally conceding.

“No,” Jeongguk lies.

“It’s totally cold. Ugh, fuck this.” Jeongguk hears the angry whump of his shirt hitting the ground.
Aggressive stripping - very nice. “I’m gonna get hypothermia.”

“Bit dramatic, Kim--”

“G-gonna get Trench foot--”

“... what the fuck?”

“--and my skin tissue’s gonna die because of lack of oxygen--”

“Gangrene, Kim? You think you’re gonna get gangrene from this shit? Man up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He sticks a foot into the lake and yelps in surprise at the temperature.
“Ugh,” he repeats. “How deep is it?”

“Like, two metres, so. Pretty shallow. Just jump in and get it over with - way easier.”

Taehyung does not jump in; Taehyung wades in, painfully slowly, and curses the entire way
through it (“Sale connard ...”), until he’s finally face to face with Jeongguk, who can’t help but
grin at his grumpiness.

“Hey,” he says.

“Fucking hi,” Taehyung scowls. “Wipe that smile off your face.”

“You look like a wet dog.”

“Feel like one.” But his face softens slightly as he reaches out to tug at one of the messy tresses
sticking to Jeongguk’s cheek. “Your hair’s longer.”

“Yeah, I didn’t cut it over summer,” Jeongguk says, voice hollow as he watches Taehyung coil a
finger around one of his curls. Hypnotised, always. God, this shit isn’t fair.

“I like it,” Taehyung says, sounding as distracted as Jeongguk feels. But then his eyes sharpen
again, and a wicked smile appears on his face. “Gives me more leverage.” And when he winks,
Jeongguk instinctively splashes him in the face - hard. “What the hell?” he splutters. He watches in
bemusement as Jeongguk furiously breastrokes backwards to put distance between them. “What are
you doing?”

“Getting away from you,” Jeongguk replies. “Ya nasty.”

Taehyung shrugs. “First time I’m hearing complaints--”

“Oh my god.” So fucking pleased with himself all the time.

He chuckles. “I’m just saying, Jeon, you weren’t--”

He drowns out his voice by putting his head underwater again, and ignores Taehyung’s raucous
laughter as he swims away. He ends up just doing laps of the lake, while Taehyung contently
stands in a shallow area and watches him.

“You’re really creeping me out, you know,” he tells him.

“Sorry we’re not all fishes.” Taehyung tuts in disappointment a little bit as Jeongguk kicks on his
back. “Anyway, when you suggested skinny dipping, I didn’t think you meant you actually just
wanted to swim.”

“Not everything’s about sex, Kim.”

“Sadly.”

“Hmm.”

He dives back down, touches the bottom of the bed and then propels himself upwards again,
bursting through the surface like a jet of light. He will never not find that fun. When he resurfaces,
he locks eyes with Taehyung, who’s still staring at him. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Jeongguk swallows slightly, nervous suddenly. “What?”

“Nothing.” Taehyung shrugs, still staring. There’s a beat of silence, and then he’s smiling properly.
“C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Tch Jeon, don’t be difficult. Just c’mere.”

He does, albeit warily. Taehyung brings his hands forward, rubs slow circles around his hips, and
Jeongguk melts into the touch. He sighs a little, places his head in the dip of Taehyung’s shoulders
as his fingers gently trail upwards. Taking his time like usual. Deliberate. Steady. He pulls
Jeongguk in closer, cups his ass with a low groan. And then he’s pulling away again to tilt
Jeongguk’s chin up slightly, kiss him, lick into his mouth and Jeongguk feels like he’s being set
alight all over. It’s not fair that he’s so good at this, making Jeongguk shiver like this.

It’s not even like he’s being touched that much, but there’s something about it - about the
unharried nature of it all - that makes him want to sink into it, succumb to it. Despite the coldness
of the lake, he can feel himself hardening gradually, starts to feel his cock against his belly.
Taehyung presses against him, bridges the gap between them and suddenly Jeongguk can feel his
hardness too, rubbing against his. He lets out a shuddery gasp as Taehyung takes the two of them in
his hand, strokes up and down despairingly slowly. God, he’s going to explode if they don’t do
something soon, but he also kind of likes this - the growing burn, the heat that’s starting to pool in
his stomach, the build-up.

“You must feel so lost right now,” Jeongguk says, sighing in content as Taehyung plants open-
mouthed kisses on his neck; his hand curls into his hair. “Since there’s no walls.”

Taehyung looks around in contemplation. “... there are trees.”

“Sure Kim, push me up against some wood - let’s see what happens to you.”

“You’re so hot when you’re threatening me.” He bites against the skin - teasing, kittenish - but
Jeongguk still groans involuntarily.

“I’m hot all the time.”

Taehyung sighs solemnly. “Very true.”

He leans back almost completely and Jeongguk nearly whines at the loss of heat, aches for his
mouth to be on him, but then Taehyung’s back to stroking the two of them, rougher this time -
quicker - and Jeongguk becomes a mess again. He tries to reign himself in slightly though because
he can’t come here, in the water. That’s like... environmentally damaging right? It has to be. Think
of the fish Jeongguk, the fish!

“We should go back,” he murmurs and Taehyung nods slowly.

Somehow, they make it back to the blankets. Taehyung’s hands are on him the whole time and
when they finally return, Jeongguk finds himself being pushed down, pinned against the ground as
Taehyung rolls on top of him. Their faces are so close now - he could count each and every one of
Taehyung’s eyelashes if he wanted to. He can see the beads of water clinging to them like
dewdrops, the blush on his cheek as his Adam’s apple bobs, all the intricacies of his eyes. God, his
eyes . Forever wide and curious and lovely. It’s kind of hypnotic, staring into them.

Of course, Jeongguk looks away first, because that’s just a game he’s never going to win. There’s
something so intense about being watched like that, something too hopeful. He can sense
Taehyung smiling as he glances up towards the sky, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he cups
Jeongguk’s face, strokes his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Small gestures, little things that
always make Jeongguk’s heart rattle in its cage. It’s the subtle intimacy of it - boyfriend territory all
over again. Too teasing, too promising.

He stays silent as Taehyung trails his fingers down, mapping out his body - the wide expanse of his
skin - with his hands: his back, his hips, his ass, his thighs. Jongguk’s not even looking at him
directly but somehow, he still feels flustered. This is probably the part he’ll never get used to, the
way Taehyung looks at him each time with this unspoken excitement - like he’s rediscovering the
human body, the beauty of lying naked with someone. Exposed. He wants to tell him to hurry up,
but honestly, a part of him likes it - all this attention - even if it makes his skin flush, even if he
can’t hold his gaze all the time; he likes surrendering to the affection.

He releases a low hiss as Taehyung takes him into his hand. His back arches like a cat without
hesitation, his hips rolling up. He presses his heels against the blanket, tries to ground himself a
little, but then Taehyung’s hand starts moving - up and down, up and down - and he sort of loses it.

“Shit...”

He tries to muffle a moan with the back on his hand, but Taehyung catches his wrist before he can.
“Don’t go shy on me, Jeon,” he says, and somehow, his voice is both sweet and taunting. He leans
backwards slightly as he grinds his pelvis forwards - sharp and fast - and Jeongguk feels a groan
get punched out of him. Taehyung’s thighs twitch against his legs as they clamp tighter around
him. “Yeah...” And then he does it again, smiling at the way Jeongguk shakes with it. “Yeah, be a
little loud for me.”

Whimpering slightly, Jeongguk tilts his head back, eyes fluttering shut as Taehyung’s grip tightens.
He gives his cock these long, lovely strokes, slotting a knee between Jeongguk’s thighs now as he
grinds down on him. He rolls his own hips lazily as he pumps and the pressure of all of it is so
overwhelmingly, unbelievably good.

When Jeongguk dares to open his eyes again, his throat catches slightly at the sight, at the look on
Taehyung’s face. He’s so gone, so spent - eyes dark and hooded, lips swollen and parted - even
though he hasn’t even been touched yet. Like seeing Jeongguk get off is enough for him, and that
in itself is enough to light a fire deep in Jeongguk’s belly. He’s not going to last much longer - he
knows it - not when Taehyung looks like that, with his chest heaving - majestic and golden and
gorgeous; Jeongguk feels light-headed.

Taehyung presses against him even harder, the pace quickening frantically as his fingers curl
around the base of Jeongguk’s shaft. Magic hands, honestly - they always do something to him.
Jeongguk feels a palm on his chest and then Taehyung’s pinching a nipple - rolling it against the
pad of his thumb, teasing it - and Jeongguk is oh, so finished. Watches in dazed awe as his come
spurts onto his stomach, shudders as he rides out the orgasm - Taehyung stroking him through it -
feeling blissed out.

He can’t lay there forever though because he wants to reciprocate, wants to make Taehyung feel as
good as he did. He feels guilty sometimes; whenever they have sex, it seems like Jeongguk is
always the focus. He guesses Taehyung prefers it that way - like it when others like it - but still, he
wonders if it gets frustrating at times. When he goes to move his hand though, Taehyung catches it.

“Came already,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to Jeongguk’s jawline. “Watching you.”

And god, if that isn’t the hottest thing Jeongguk has ever been told before. He wills himself to stay
still, but inside, he’s trembling - just the tiniest bit. Don’t go red, he tells himself. Don’t fucking do
it.

“I would bully you, but that’s a pretty great ego booster,” he replies, “so you’re spared.”

“Your compassion knows no end.”

As he rolls off him, Jeongguk stares with mild disgust at the mess on his stomach. “Gotta clean
up,” he says, reaching over to the picnic hamper. “Do we have tissues?”

“Bought a towel,” Taehyung yawns. Of course he did.

“Such a fuckboy move, honestly Kim. Can’t tell if you’re desperately overeager or just cocky.”

“Definitely the latter. In more ways than one.”

“Classy.”

Taehyung wipes them both down and they put their clothes back on and lie on top of each other in
the sun - Taehyung reading, Jeongguk cloud watching. There’s something dizzying about looking
up at the sky, the vastness of it - this infinite expanse of blue. One minute turns into ten so quickly
and soon enough, you forget where you are and when you are. It’s like Jeongguk’s been reset, like
he’s looking at the world again for the first time and being blown away by the smallest things. Can
a good enough handjob really do that to someone? Well, he thinks, glancing at Taehyung - he
doubts it’s the handjob that’s making him feel like this, so impossibly warm, but alas: handjobs
help.

“When do you want to head back?” Taehyung asks, turning the page. He looks so cute when he’s
got a book in his hand, so comically concentrated.

“Never,” Jeongguk says. He doesn’t want this day to end, any of it. “Let’s live here.”

Taehyung looks up at the clouds with him, then back at the book. He smiles slightly. “Agreed.” A
few more moments of silence, and then he asks, out of the blue, “How many times you been in
love, Jeon?” and Jeongguk nearly chokes on air because what a question.

He looks up at the older boy, but feels a bit less cynical when he sees he’s not smirking - just a
single raised eyebrow: pure curiosity. “Zero,” he replies, and Taehyung looks oddly disappointed.
Or maybe surprised. “What about you?”

“Seven.” He seems affronted when Jeongguk snorts.

“What, and they always fell through?” He rolls his eyes. “I swear to god, if you say something like
I don’t do relationships --”

“I do. We’ve already established, Jeon.” He gestures at himself with an elegant flourish of his hand
that, admittedly, makes Jeongguk smile more than it should’ve: “A romantic.” He looks a bit
sheepish even (sweetly so) when he says, “I fall in love pretty easily,” and honestly, Jeongguk
figured. He looks the type. “Just... happen to fall out of it easily too.”

Jeongguk feigns indifference as he sits up to tie an undone shoelace on his trainers, looks down at
his feet as he says, “Why’s that then? Commitment issues? You get bored?”

“God, how callous.” Taehyung snorts a little. “I don’t get bored.”

“Apathetic then?”

“I--” He contemplates it for a moment. “I’m just waiting for the right person I guess... to make the
commitment worth it.”

Jeongguk hums in acknowledgement. “Isn’t everyone?”

“Yeah... yeah, I guess so.”

 “Still think there’s a deeper underlying issue here,” he says, with a click of his tongue.

“You trying to therapise me, Jeon?”

“Sure,” he replies, and then, “Tell me about your mother, Kim.”

Taehyung barks with laughter. “That’s lazy, even for you.”

“Ooh, deflecting. Not a good sign. Oedipus complex?” Jeongguk suggests.

“Fuck you. Let me read.”

Jeongguk gives him a firm jab in the side of his ribs - to remind him that he was the one who
initiated this conversation in the first place - before lying down on his back again and looking up at
the floating blue ocean above him. Thinks about how the fire inside him is burning a little louder
now, a little brighter. A little more hopeful.

Chapter End Notes

Welcome to: Learn French with Fictional Tae (pt. 3):

En voiture = by car
Sale connard = fucking bastard
(Now, you're four words more cultured than you were before ;))

Also, I was initially going to try and write phone sex, but then I realised I have no clue
how to write phone sex, so. (Get baited, I guess).

Also, also - apology in advance: your girl's back in school soon, which means the next
few updates probably won't be as regular because I haven't actually finished writing
this bad boy yet - and mocks may be the indefinite end of me - so yeah. We'll see how
things go ^^ thank you, as always, for all your feedback - you're gems <3
 Chapter Seven
Chapter Summary

Time skip, baby.

Chapter Notes

From now on, I’m not providing French translations in the end notes - because there
are quite a few in this chapter, and I don’t want it to read like a glossary - so if you
have a curious-enough mind, Google Translate is now your best friend :)

Also, excuse my gross overuse of italics (hehe - I love 'em)

And then, on the seventh of December, Esmée arrives and everything kind of goes to shit.

He’s sitting at the dining table, scrolling through Twitter instead of doing anything meaningful
with his life, when the doorbell rings suddenly. Everyone simultaneously says: “Jeongguk.”

Huffing, he props himself up onto his elbows. “Wait, why do I have to get it?” he sulks. Hoseok,
who’s slurping a pot of instant noodles at the kitchen bar, is way closer to the entrance.

“Because you’re the maknae,” he replies. “Show your elders some respect.”

“Yeah, earn your keep, kid,” Yoongi agrees.

Fine, whatever. He absentmindedly wonders who it is as he begrudgingly stands up - students don’t

make a habit of meeting other people in their dorms, and his hyungs didn’t say anything about
dropping by. Still, it could be Seokjin. He hopes it’s Seokjin - the others have been too lazy to cook
recently and his diet (or lack thereof) has been suffering as a result.

When he opens the door though, he’s met with a girl who’s a good foot shorter than him. She has
auburn hair that drops to her shoulders, brown eyes, freckles and is wearing the most shocking
shade of red lipstick that he has ever seen. She also dresses like she could be a model - but, like, in
the eighteenth century - and she has a suitcase. Jeongguk doesn’t know what to make of any of this.

“Hi, is Taehyung here?” she asks in an accent that Jeongguk can’t quite identify.

“Erm, yeah.” He looks over his shoulder to call for him. “KIM!” And then when he gets no yelled
response back: “YOU HAVE A VISITOR!”

A good minute later, Taehyung finally emerges from his room, scratching his messy bed hair.
“Jesus, you wanna shout any louder?” He completely stops when he sees the girl in the doorway
though, like he doesn’t really know how to react. “... Esmée?”

She seems absolutely ecstatic though, running up to viciously hug him, and honestly, Jeongguk
winces as he hears her head impact with Taehyung’s chest because he’s pretty sure he felt that. She
might be tiny, but she’s packing.

“Eugh, mon amour,” she says, words muffled by his shirt. “Ça va?”

Oh, she’s French. Makes sense. She also has no concept of personal space it seems.

Taehyung still looks like he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide in muted shock. “Erm, how are you, like,
here... right now?”

“Ma fac s’est terminée plus bientôt pour les vacances. Nous sommes arrivés hier.” When she
finally unhooks her arms from him, she gives him a puzzled look, and then switches back to
Korean, amusement in her voice: “You don’t seem pleased?”

“I’m just surprised... is all. Where are you staying?”

“Actually... I was thinking of staying here,” she says and the panic in Taehyung’s face grows
tenfold. It’s almost comical. “My parents are in Seoul right now and I don’t want to stay in a hotel
room all alone while I’m here.” She makes a pretty please face up at him, her lips in a pout, even
though Taehyung can’t exactly send her away now and she knows that - at least, to Jeongguk,
that’s the kind of person she seems to be. “You guys break up in a week anyway, don’t you - that’s
what your mum told me - I didn’t think it would be that much of a burden. You could show me
around.”

“No. No... it’s not. Yeah, that’s... it’s fine. I guess. Could’ve warned me is all.” Beaming, she takes
his hand. He gives it a fond squeeze before letting go of it, a nervous smile on his face. “This is,
erm-- this is Jeongguk, by the way.”

Taehyung gestures towards him and Esmée shoots a stunning smile in his direction. God, her teeth
are so white, it’s glaring; Jeongguk almost has to look away. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says, and
honestly the chirpiness of it is a bit grating. Fake. It has to be - no one looks that happy during
obligatory introductions.

“Yeah, you too,” Jeongguk replies.

He’s surprised by Esmée’s Korean, considering the fact that she looks like the epitome of a pasty
European tourist. It’s obvious - with her dialect - that she’s not a native, but she is practically
fluent. “Thank you,” she says, when he compliments her on it. “I actually also speak English,
Spanish, and Russian.”

Of course she does. Jesus fucking Christ, Jeongguk hates this girl.

Taehyung introduces her to the others, but she already seems to be familiar with one of them.
“Yoongi,” she says, grinning at the frowning boy. “It’s been too long.”

“Maybe for you,” Yoongi replies.

She smiles again, but there’s something more mean about it. “You always were a funny one.”

“Comedian material,” he agrees. “What exactly are you doing in Korea again?”

“I came to see mon amour.” She squeezes Taehyung’s cheeks between her hand affectionately and
he splutters in surprise, which makes her laugh.

“Right,” Yoongi says flatly. “Your amour. Of course.”

“Enthusiastic as always,” Esmée quips. “You’d make a good primary school teacher.”

“And you’d make a good snake oil salesman.”

Huh. Well, this is an interesting bit of tension.

“Erm,” Taehyung says, obviously feeling uncomfortable. “I... let me-- uh. I’ll show you my room,”
he tells Esmée, “and then you can sort out all your stuff. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the
sofa and--”

“Don’t be silly, we can share the bed,” she says, with a confused look that might’ve seemed
innocent enough, but then she adds, unnecessarily, “It’s nothing we haven’t done before” and
Jeongguk thinks yeah, okay. He knows exactly what kind of person she is.

“I’m sleeping on the sofa,” Taehyung insists, giving her a small smile and she sighs dramatically.

"Ben, d’accord. Don’t know why you’d voluntarily give yourself back ache mais c’est ton choix.”
She shrugs, then something on the coffee table catches her eye, and she’s lighting up again. “Is that
The Brothers Karamazov?” she says, picking up the book and inspecting it. “That’s so funny, my
friend gave me a copy of it too like two months ago. Have you finished it yet?” Oh, so she's a
reader too; Jeongguk hates her more.

“Not yet,” Taehyung replies.

“Yeah, it’s a time commitment for sure,” she says musingly. “But god, when you understand the
themes, it’s amazing. You’ll have to tell me what you think of it when you’re done.” Then, she’s
putting it down and clapping her hands together. “D’accord, la chambre est où?”

“Right this way,” Taehyung says, leading her down the corridor. Jeongguk watches as they leave,
feeling weirdly forlorn.

“So that’s Esmée,” Hoseok says, mostly to himself. “Huh.” He turns back to his noodles. “Shorter
than I expected.”

Esmée, it turns out, is Taehyung’s ex. Fucking A.

Well. They were thirteen at the time so Jeongguk doesn’t know if that counts. At that stage in life,
your brain’s not even fully developed yet - people make a lot of mistakes when they’re thirteen, he
should know. Still though, she’s his childhood friend from Provence. They went to school together
until he moved to Korea, but they stayed in touch, and whenever his family go back to France for
the holidays, they see each other. They’re very on and off apparently, which is not even remotely
reassuring because how the hell is Jeongguk supposed to compete with like a decade’s worth of
history? Childhood bestfriends? Fuck. That. Shit.

All of this is information Jeongguk gets from Mina because no way in hell was he about to breach
this conversation topic with Taehyung himself, and he feels like it’s not his place really. To care.
Like okay, it would be a bit sleazy if Taehyung had had this secret girlfriend the whole time and
he’d been sleeping with other people anyway, but his relationship with Esmée is as unofficial as his
relationship with Jeongguk - he doesn’t owe him an explanation. There was no reason to tell him.

“I’ve only spoken to her once before,” Mina’s saying. He’s sitting on her bed, watching her repaint
her nails at the desk - sunshine yellow this time around; aggravatingly optimistic. “It was last year -
she was on a Facetime call with Taehyung and I was sitting next to him so he introduced us. She
seemed nice enough. I don’t know - I’ve said, like, five sentences to her. Asked her about her
degree. She’s doing international relations, wants to become a foreign diplomat or something like
that I’m pretty sure.”

Yeah, Jeongguk could see that.

“Don’t really know her that well though,” Mina reiterates. She blows on varnish to make it dry
quicker, admires her handiwork. “Pretty sure Yoongi understands better than I do what she’s like -
he’s known Taehyung the longest.”

And so off Jeongguk goes, on a quest to gather more information about his new (potential) mortal
enemy. Yoongi is outside on the balcony rolling a cigarette on the bannister of the railings. He
always looks so concentrated when he’s doing this, as if he’s decoding a bomb instead of
squashing tobacco under his thumb. He still looks pretty badass doing it, Jeongguk must admit - he
looks badass doing everything.

“You look like you’re in a music video,” he says as he steps outside.

“In my brain,” Yoongi replies, “I’m always in a music video.”

“Oh yeah, what’s playing? Old bluegrass?”

“Don’t make jabs at me kid, I have great taste.” He licks the glue strip on the paper and finishes
rolling it up. Then, he gives Jeongguk a side glance. “So, did you come here to tell me something
or just bother me?” When Jeongguk doesn’t respond, he narrows his eyes. Then, with a sigh, he
says, “Alright. Esmée. First impressions - go.”

Jeongguk’s not even going to ask how he knew; Yoongi is a sage old man who has lived a hundred
past lives - if he could read minds, Jeongguk would not be surprised. “Honestly?” he says,
contemplating it. “Think she’s a snobbish asshole.”

That earns a sharp bark of laughter from Yoongi as he pushes the filter in place. “Yeah, figures.”

“You gonna tell her I said that?”

“Nah, I’m no snake. Also, I agree a hundred percent. She’s a bitch. Hoseok likes her - thinks she’s
all exotic or free-spirited or whatever. Honestly, I think she’s just delusional. She acts like as soon
as Taehyung graduates, they’re gonna get married and he’ll whisk her off away to live in some
farmhouse for the rest of their lives.”

Jeongguk shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance. “He might.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He lifts the cigarette to his mouth, strikes the lighter a few times and groans when it
doesn’t work. “Because if they thought this relationship could actually work out, they would’ve
just done it by now. They’re both impulsive people, they’re both hopeless romantics, they’re both
loaded. There’s nothing stopping them, you know? But instead, they’ve been playing this back and
forth game for the last six years, these half-promises but never actually committing, you know?”

He tries the lighter again - nothing. “Stupid fucking thing. I think, in a way, Taehyung likes the
whole long-distance thing. He can have his cake and eat it. He can go back to Paris, or wherever
the fuck, every Christmas and summer and get swept up in it - the theatrics, the excitement of
being on borrowed time - and after that, he comes back to his real life here. Emsée’s escapism to
him - a thrill. She’s not his soulmate; she’s definitely not a potential wife. She’s forbidden fruit.”

There’s finally a spark. Pleased, he lights the cigarette, holds it to his lips, takes a drag. “And if
there’s anything Taehyung likes, it’s having something he shouldn’t.”

God, doesn’t Jeongguk know it.

“Forbidden fruit, huh?” he says, resting a cheek on his elbow.

“Yeah, he has a type. And don’t you find it weird?”

“What?”

Yoongi levels him with a look, like he can’t understand how Jeongguk doesn’t understand what the
hell he’s trying to say. He takes another drag, exhales, plumes of smoke furling out of his mouth
like a dragon. “That you and Emsée are practically the same person.”

Okay, that’s bullshit if Jeongguk ever heard it. Sure, they both have the whole flirtatious teasing
thing going for them, and they’re both snarky but he’s pretty certain that’s where the similarities
end: Esmée is manipulative and cold and calculating - socialite, politician material - and Jeongguk
is none of those things. Honestly, maybe he’s just bitter that she seems like the sort of person who
masks jealousy better, conceals it. Jeongguk, on the other hand, wears his feelings like a clunky,
clumsy hazmat suit - he can hide them but he can’t separate his emotions from his actions;
eventually, they bleed into one another. If anything, Esmée’s a lot more similar to Taehyung than
he is - maybe that’s what bothers him.

“Why do you smoke, by the way?” Jeongguk asks, because he really wants to stop talking about
her. Yoongi gives him a look of skepticism. “Not judging,” he promises, “just curious.”

Yoongi purses his lips slightly, still looking unconvinced, but he shrugs and says, “My dad died of
a heart attack two years ago.”

“Oh shit... sorry.”

Yoongi snorts a little. “Not your fault, kid, why are you apologising? He was pretty young though -
not even fifty. Felt like the world robbed me of something, you know? He won’t be there when I
graduate, or when I get married or when I have my first kid. Pisses me off.” He takes another puff.
“He used to smoke too. Not a lot, but enough that the smell reminds me of him. I do it to be closer
to him in a way, I guess.” He gives Jeongguk a sideways glance. “You think that’s dumb?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know - it’s not really his place to judge, but dependency is never a joke no matter
your reasons. He definitely gets it though. He thinks about the copy of Animal Farm that he has on
his bedside table, that he falls asleep next to every night even though he’s probably never going to
read it again. He’ll admit it: sometimes it’s nice to have close reminders of people you care about.

“Hey, so Jeon,” Taehyung says, pulling out the chair opposite him at the dining table.

He looks up. “Hmm?”

“As you know, it’s my birthday soon - the thirtieth, a fortnight away now--”

“Bold of you to assume I’m counting down the days, Kim.”

“I know you are,” Taehyung replies, face serious. “And it’s okay, I find it noble of you.”

Jeongguk gives Yoongi, who’s sitting beside him, a side look. “Find me a guy who jerks himself
off as hard as this - I’ll wait.” That earns a snort.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “this Saturday, my parents are hosting this birthday bash thing--”

“Okay, but like... why not on your actual birthday?”

“Because my family are holiday people, Jeon,” Taehyung sighs. “And they’re all gonna be in Fiji
by Christmas, so we celebrate before they’re scattered across the globe. I mean, I wouldn’t mind
either way, but it’s a tradition at this point. Anyway, Saturday--”

“No,” Yoongi says, while Taehyung ogles at the disrespect of being interrupted three times in a
row (thrice!). “Say no, Jeongguk.”

“Wha-- I haven’t even explained it to him yet.”

“No need, I will: so the whole event is basically an ostentatious display of the disgusting wealth of
Taehyung’s family, and they’re all trying to one-up each other, and rich people can be pretty
insufferable at the best of times so Taehyung needs a normie like us to tag along with him to make
sure he doesn’t go clinically insane.”

“I need an anchor,” Taehyung admits.

“I was the unlucky soul who got dragged along last year. Let me tell you,” Yoongi says, his eyes
darkening: “Not worth it.”

“Yeah, but Yoonge, you’re not the social type. Jeongguk, you’ll love it - my family has some very
interesting individuals. I know how much you love judging and pigeon-holing people.”

Jeongguk stares at him. “So your plan to convince me is to insult me...?”

“That wasn’t a dig - just thought honesty would be the best policy.”

He thinks about it for a moment - it's not like he has anything better to do. “What’s the dress
code?”

“Formal and outlandishly grotesque,” Taehyung says. “It’s always a suit and tie thing, but you
know, people really go all out - they make a day of it.”

“I don’t have a suit with me.”

“I’ll buy you one.”

Jeongguk stares at him again, harder this time. “You’ll buy me one? Jesus, how much do you hate
your family?”

“I don’t hate them, just need an anchor,” he reiterates.

“You know I’m just gonna bully you the whole night for having nice stuff, right?”

“Sure.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Sure.”

“You really shouldn’t be okay with that.” He takes a bite of the sandwich in his hand. “Not using
the word ‘bully’ lightly here.”

“Small price to pay,” he responds.

There’s a pause, and then Jeongguk concedes with an apathetic shrug. “Yeah okay, I’ll go.”

Taehyung gives a soft cheer as Yoongi shakes his head in disapproval. “Jeongguk,” he says, “I’m
warning you now: Taehyung’s old high school friends are asswipes; you don’t want to be in their
company for a whole night.”

“Thought you guys were friends in high school.”

“Oh no, we hated each other.” Oh. Interesting. “Until final year.”

“To clarify,” Taehyung says, “he hated me. I had no idea he existed.”

Yoongi gives him a withering look. “Oh, ever the cool kid, I see.”

“Why’d you hate him?”

“It wasn’t really him as a person that bothered me - it was more his group, his ideals, and you
know, everything he stood for.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Gee, thanks?”

“They were trust-fund kids,” Yoongi explains to Jeongguk and he ahs in sympathy. “Walking
around with their blazers tied around their necks like they were in a fucking country club. Fucking
pretentious as fuck. Egotistical. Ignorant of the world around them. Unwarranted confidence--”

“Okay Yoonge, this is getting--”

“Lazy. Domineering. Acting like they were sex machines when none of them had ever even gotten
laid.”

Jeongguk blinks at him. “I see you got a lot of repressed rage.”

Yoongi gives him a once-over. “You don’t know the half of it, kid.”

“It’s good things change,” Taehyung sing-songs.

“Yeah,” he replies, after a pause of thought. “... guess you actually get laid now.”

“Haha.”

“I’m a funny guy,” he agrees.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, before turning back to face Jeongguk, a wicked smile on his face. “So
Jeon,” he says, “you thought of a present yet?”

“Oh, you think you’re getting something from me?” Jeongguk takes another bored bite of his
sandwich. “That’s cute.” He says, even though he knows exactly what he’s going to get Taehyung;
he’s known since summer.
The older boy snorts. “Course I am - I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” And even
though he’s joking, for a moment - for those few, fleeting seconds - Jeongguk’s pulse quickens, as
if he’s been found out, as if Taehyung knows and--“Least you could do is buy some chocolates.”

“Uh huh.” He feels dizzy all of a sudden, and he would go sit down, except he’s already sitting
down, and why the hell does he feel so grossly warm, and god, this shit isn’t even funny anymore;
he wants his heartbeat to behave itself.

“How about you, Yoonge?” Taehyung asks, and it sounds more like a purr than actual words.
Yoongi’s fist clenches for a second, as if he was considering swatting Taehyung in the face, but
then decided against it at the last moment.

“You know I don’t do that shit.”

“What, you don’t do birthdays?” Jeongguk asks, a single eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t do presents. Fucking waste of money, and time and energy. What’s the point of
buying people crap they didn’t ask for and didn’t need?”

“It helps the economy?” Taehyung suggests. “Boosts GDP and all that shit.”

“Like hell it does. Buying shit for the sake of buying shit is a colossal waste of resources, and
we’re--”

“Killing the Earth,” Taehyung interjects. “I know - we’re horrible people.”

Yoongi brandishes his newspaper angrily in his hands, like a chicken whose feathers have been
ruffled. “Don’t understand why people don’t just give each other money,” he grumbles. “It’s the
only thing that has any universally intrinsic value.”

“Careful Yoonge,” Taehyung says. “Your anti-capitalism is showing.”

“Fuck Adam Smith,” Yoongi replies and yeah: Jeongguk could definitely see him as a grandpa.

Esmée is a very clingy person - a fact that Jeongguk learns very quickly.

Whenever Taehyung’s not in classes, she’s always with him. Always. Not that they’re even in the
dorms much because Esmée always seems to want to go outside and “let’s do something,
Taehyung”.

God, Jeongguk has tried real hard not to hate her on principle - she’s nice enough to him and he
technically doesn’t know her - but that’s hard to do when he finds her whole existence oddly
irritating. Master manipulator - that’s the vibe he gets - but Taehyung must be aware of that, right?
Taehyung’s not stupid. He’s known her longer than any of them - knows her best - so he should
feel comfortable shutting her down, shouldn’t he? He should be okay with saying no to her, but
instead he just lets her drag him around Sunyeong like he’s her fucking chaperone:

“Taehyung, I want to go to Jung-gu street.”

“Okay.”

“Taehyung, let’s go shopping.”

“Sure.”
“Taehyung, I saw this really cool barbecue place...”

“Lemme grab my coat.”

Fuck. This. Shit. Esmée definitely wears the trousers in this relationship - at this point, Esmée is the
only one wearing clothes: Taehyung is just a naked, spineless, cowering manchild. But maybe
that’s harsh; maybe Taehyung isn’t scared of her - of not bending to her will. Maybe that’s just
how they are with each other, their dynamic: she dotes on him and he indulges her, and they go
around town doing crazy, fun shit with the borrowed time they have. Honestly, Jeongguk hates that
concept a whole lot more.

But he sees the appeal. Although it hurts him to admit it, Esmée seems like a fun person: she’s
witty and bright and eccentric; she’s audaciously sure of herself. He’s trying real hard not to
compare himself - because god, it doesn’t even matter - but he gets why Taehyung likes her. She’s
confidence and spontaneity and energy all wrapped up into a fun-sized package. Yeah, he
definitely sees the appeal.

And the fact is that Jeongguk’s always felt a little disposable - they’re both impulsive people,
Taehyung especially, and he honestly wasn’t expecting this to last as long as it did; Taehyung likes
things fast and hot and intense. He likes fireworks: short-lived, but explosive and beautiful. It
doesn’t make anything that has happened between them any less real but he’s always known that
eventually, the gunpowder will run out, and the fizzing crackles will stop, and Taehyung will move
onto lighting the next fuse, the next person. And that’s never really bothered Jeongguk - at least,
he’s always been able to accommodate for the possibility that he’ll be replaced. So what’s different
now? Why does he suddenly care?

Oh yeah: because, feelings. They can be a bit inconvenient at the best of times.

God, he’s not a jealous person. At all. He’s not. Mean-spirited maybe. Competitive definitely. But
not jealous - he’s never cared enough to be - and yet, for the past few days, that’s the only emotion
he’s felt. It sits at the bottom of his stomach, curls up tight in his gut - this burning, angry thing.
Possessive. Irrational. It’s what makes his jaw clench when Esmée hugs Taehyung from behind,
when she plays with his hair. But it’s not even these public acts that piss him off - it’s everything.
It’s the thoughts. It’s the idea of her and Taehyung in the living room when everyone else has gone
to bed - hushed whispers and soft laughs and talking until they fall asleep. It’s shit like that that
keeps him awake - what they do when he’s not around to see it. The ‘what if’s.

Jealousy feeds on the ‘what if’s.

He feels like he’s losing something that wasn’t really his to begin with - a rigged game - because
god, what did he expect? He and Taehyung aren’t anything - they never were anything. They don’t
have ten years of history, they don’t read novels in bay windows together, they don’t go on
spontaneous get-aways to Paris. He’s not Esmée. Not that he even wants to be - Christ - he just...
just wants Taehyung to look at him more than he does at her, wants his eyes on him again, his
attention - all of it - and also hates that he wants that because Jesus, how old is he, two?

It’s honestly pathetic: he shouldn’t care this much - he shouldn’t care, period - but it’s a lot harder
to console himself now, to tell himself not to get any ideas because god does he have ideas. He has
so many ideas - and feelings and thoughts - and they’re all gnawing at the back of his mind,
corroding his brain, and he just lets them because he doesn’t know what else to do with them.
Doesn’t know where else to put them. Doesn’t know how to deal with the realisation that he can’t
keep pretending anymore. He does care; he cares way too much, enough to make his chest ache,
make his heart hurt. But what’s he supposed to do with that?
Because Taehyung is shameless and bold and self-indulgent so maybe the most stinging truth of all
- the one that cuts the deepest - is that if Taehyung wanted something to happen between them by
now, it would’ve happened. But he doesn’t, so it didn’t, and Jeongguk’s just going to have to live
with that: he’s not The One. He’s not different. He’s just the person Taehyung decided to talk to
instead of halter-top girl that night - a whim, a challenge. A fucking subplot. He’s not special.

And it’s fine. Well... it’s not but it’ll have to be because Jeongguk does not have the time to be
heartbroken over something that never happened. He’ll be sad over Christmas and get it out of his
system and then realise he’s only nineteen anyway and he’s got the rest of his life ahead of him so
why the fuck is he so hung up over one guy he happened to sleep with. So yeah, in the long run at
least, it’s fine.

Until Thursday night, and then it’s not.

Jeongguk thinks he’s imagining when he hears the gentle knock on his bedroom door. He’s been
trying to get to sleep for the last three hours to no avail, and he’s been feeling himself slowly going
insane, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d started hallucinating. But then the door is creaking open
slightly, and he hears a “Jeon?” and it’s stupid how much he’s missed his voice.

“Mhmm hmm,” he responds, tiredly.

“You awake?”

“Well, considering I just--”

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says; Jeongguk can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m dumb. Also, I
can’t get to sleep. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Eugh, with you?”

“No. We can sit in two separate rooms and watch it individually and communicate via radios.”

“Let’s do that minus the radios,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“You hurt me, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

In the dull gloom of the dark, he can make out the unimpressed look on Taehyung’s face. “Get up
then, and bring a blanket.” Him and fucking orders - Jeongguk has missed those too.

When he’s mustered the energy to roll out of bed and drag his duvet along with him, he finds
Taehyung in the kitchen rifling through their mostly empty cupboards. “Mina didn’t do the
shopping,” he grumbles.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t Mina’s turn to do the shopping.”

“Yeah, but she always does the shopping, even when it's not her turn to do the shopping.”

“Think you’re just guilty for not shopping, Kim,” Jeongguk says with a yawn. “Don’t try and
deflect the blame: acknowledge what you did and feel bad about it.”

“You’re a shitty therapist.” He closes a cupboard with a sigh. “There’s no microwave popcorn,” he
wails in despair.
“The end is nigh,” Jeongguk replies with no sympathy.

“Really shitty,” Taehyung reiterates, and then he’s opening the fridge to try and find something
there. His eyes gleam mischievously as he pulls out a packet of seaweed. “Huh?” he asks Jeongguk.
“Huh?”

“Yoongi will kill us.”

“No he won’t - he’s all empty threats. If he actually made good on his word, I’d be missing a lung,
a kidney and my liver right now.” He pauses in contemplation. “And my balls,” he adds. “I’d be
missing my balls.”

“He’ll still be mad when he finds out.”

“Deny, Jeon. Deny, deny, deny. He can’t know it was us if we don’t say anything, and then he’ll
direct his anger at all four of us and it’ll be spread out evenly in manageable doses.”

“You’re despicable,” Jeongguk says, with a shake of his head.

“I’m hungry,” Taehyung replies. “There’s a difference. Hunger makes a man desperate.” He opens
the packet and pops a piece into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Then, he offers Jeongguk one,
who takes it because oh well, the damage has already been done.

He settles onto the sofa while Taehyung inserts the DVD (who the fuck owns DVDs anymore?)
and then the older boy comes to join him, pulling his own blanket up so it pools around his lap. “I
bought Animal Farm from home so we could watch it together after summer,” he says. “It’s been
sitting on my desk for like three months.”

Okay, but why now? Jeongguk wants to ask. “How’d you know I was awake?” he says instead.

Taehyung gives him a look. “I didn’t. Your room’s just closest and I was feeling lonely - thought
I’d try my luck.” And Jeongguk knows he’s lying but he doesn’t say anything else as the film
starts. Taehyung’s such a puzzle sometimes - he pays such close attention to things, to fine details,
but then he acts like he doesn’t want Jeongguk to take his actions seriously, like they don’t have
any meaning.

“If you want to enjoy a story the most, understand the message, you need to infer things you’re not
told.” That’s what he said to Jeongguk when he first gave him the reading list. “You need to read
between the lines, Jeon.”

And Jeongguk always thought he was the kind of person who was good at doing that - or at least
good at reading people - but Taehyung’s so weird because he doesn’t try to hide things. He
overcompensates - he’s a performer - and it can be hard to distinguish what’s true and what’s just
an exaggeration of the truth, a hyperbolized version of the person he wants to project. That’s what
makes fleeting moments of genuine vulnerability so cool for Jeongguk to see, so precious. Because
he’ll probably never know what Taehyung is thinking unless he asks, and he’s just too scared to
ask sometimes. Most times. Like now.

“This CGI is shocking,” Jeongguk murmurs as they watch.

“It was made in 1999 - they tried.”

“Their mouths aren’t even moving to the speech.”

“Shush, Jeon. Life’s no fun when you’re a critic.”

“Oh god, what did they do to Snowball?”

“Shush.”

“Look at him.”

“Jeon.”

“Poor guy.”

“Hey?”

“Hmm?”

There’s a pause of silence, and then Taehyng’s taking a handful of seaweed and stuffing it into
Jeongguk’s mouth. “Shut,” he says, “the fuck up.”

And he does, but only because he’s thinking about the way Taehyung’s fingers pressed into the
corners of his lips and it’s making him feel tingly all over. God, he’s pathetic. But in his defence,
that’s the first time Taehyung’s touched him properly all week. He never even realised how much
he did it before, how often Taehyung pressed his body against his - when they were sitting on the
sofa, or eating at the table, or lying on his bed - and god has he missed it. He blames him and Mina
- they’ve conditioned him: he never needed hugs before and now he needs hugs all the goddamn
time. When he voluntarily asks Seokjin or Namjoon for one though, they give Jeongguk a look of
utter terror. Alas, he’s a changed man - a changed man experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

He thinks Taehyung’s avoided it out of respect to Esmée (which is probably the decent thing to do,
but also pisses Jeongguk off to no end). He guesses though that Taehyung has done the same for
him: sure, Esmée likes to use his body as an experimental jungle gym at times, but he never
actively does anything back, he just kind of humours her. Maybe that’s just the way they are with
each on default and Jeongguk does not like that one bit either. But whatever, it isn’t his place to
complain. He misses the skinship though. It’s not like he’s been deprived of it for an eternity - it’s
only been six days - but still... times are tough.

It’s just so weird - this whole situation - makes him feel so gross because he has no idea how he’s
supposed to act around him now, what’s too much, where the line is. It’s like he’s one of
Taehyung’s many wives - vying for his attention, sharing him - and the thought is so disgusting.
How is he supposed to relate to him anymore? Where does he stand with him? Are they just friends
now - is that what they are? Friends? Can they have an official meeting about this shit so Jeongguk
can verify? Like, in the immediate future?

“Did you have pets growing up?” Taehyung asks, completely out of the blue.

Jeongguk gives him a look. “What is this Kim, speed-dating?”

“Shut up, I’m just curious.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to talk about the film, but you’re allowed to talk during the film about
something that’s not even related to the film. Nice to know.”

“It’s a simple question, Jeon - don’t be difficult.”

“The double standards here are shocking.” Taehyung kicks his feet under the blanket. “Eugh,
okay,” he gripes. “Erm... not really, actually - my family aren’t animal people. Junghyun and I had
fish at one point, but they lasted all of two weeks because we forgot they existed and didn’t feed
them.”

Taehyung kicks him again. “That’s so cruel.”

“We were like eight, okay? Eight year olds don’t care about other living creatures - eight year olds
only care about themselves.”

“Well, I think I was a pretty empathetic eight year old.”

“Careful Kim, I can see your head inflating.”

He laughs at that - breathy and unrestrained - and Jeongguk likes that a little too much. Kind of
likes everything Taehyung does a little too much at this point. He’s so fucked - not that he hadn’t
recognised that fact already. He became all too aware of it back in the summer when Taehyung’s
caller ID came up on his screen and his heart beated a little too fast for comfort. This isn’t really
just a crush anymore, and he doesn’t have any excuses left for it, and it’s not going to go away
anytime soon, and god, Jeongguk is so fucked.

He wishes he was a hedonist with no emotions. Maybe that doesn’t make life better but it sure as
hell makes it simpler. Uncomplicated to navigate through. Easier than this. Because sex Jeongguk
can do, not this. Whatever this is. He has no idea what to do with any of it. And it’s not even the
sex that he wants anymore - not really. He just wants Taehyung to roll on top of him and hold him -
wants him to want him back - and that’s a scarier thought.

“What about you then? I’m guessing horses.”

“For a little while, yeah.”

“Wow. Yoongi wasn’t kidding when he said country club, huh?”

“Shut up,” he says again, smiling. “We have dogs back in France too.”

“Oh, what, just chilling in the farmhouse?”

“Yeah, we couldn’t take them with us when we moved, but I didn’t want to sell them - they’re my
babies. Cosette looks after them while we’re here.”

“She’s a committed woman.”

“That she is.”

They fall silent again, but after a few minutes, Jeongguk feels Taehyung brush a leg against his. He
thinks it’s accidental at first, but then he does it again. There’s something careful about it, like he’s
waiting to see how Jeongguk will react. Testing the waters. When Jeongguk doesn’t move away,
he presses against him more - closer - rubs their shoulders together. And then, he settles into that
position, his frame resting slightly on Jeongguk’s body as they watch the screen.

Okay, what’s even happening anymore? What are they doing? Where is this heading? All
questions Jeongguk probably would ask if he was brave enough to. But then he’d burst the weird
bubble they’re in - break the trance - and Taehyung might pull away, and right now, Jeongguk kind
of likes this - the ghost of Taehyung’s fingers on his thigh, the fuzziness of it all - so he stays quiet.
Concentrates real hard on breathing. And then, he feels Taehyung’s hand come up to curl into his
hair, slowly, hesitantly - like he’s waiting for Jeongguk to pull away or protest - and Jeongguk does
neither of those things because he’s weak and at this point, he’s just accepted it.
He does ask, “What are you doing?”

Taehyung pauses for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replies. Unhelpfully. Infuriatingly. “I’ve seen
Mina do it before - you like it.”

That’s not really an answer either, but Jeongguk does like it - Jeongguk likes a lot - so he doesn’t
say anything else as Taehyung works his way into his hair, massages his scalp with his blunt nails.
Magic hands, honestly. Bewitching. It’s a strange sensation, like oil is dripping down from his
head, like he’s being anointed - this wave of wet warmth washing over his body. Feels like he’s
drowning in it. He doesn’t even realise that his breaths are getting slower, more laboured, as he
feels the heat pool in his stomach, feels his gut coil, his toes curl. Every hair on his arm on edge for
Taehyung, like every fibre in his body is being conducted by him; that’s the power he has over
Jeongguk, and it’s scary.

At one point, Taehyung tugs a little too hard - a little too much - and Jeongguk hears the groan
tumble out of his mouth before he can stop it, soft and guttural. Taehyung’s hand stops moving.
God, Jeongguk thinks - he messed up, didn’t he? Crossed that boundary. This wasn’t sexual, and
then he had to go and make it sexual - because he can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for five
fucking minutes - and now things are weird and--

And Taehyung’s hands are on his shoulders. Okay. Interesting development.

Jeongguk stays deathly quiet as Taehyung rotates him away slightly so he can press the wedge of
his palms against the tense muscles there. A back massage, huh? Okay, Jeongguk likes a lot.
Taehyung rubs the skin - slowly, tenderly. They stay like that a little while - with Jeongguk’s pulse
roaring in his ears - and then Taehyung’s hands are trailing down to his sides and he presses in -
hard. Jeongguk gives a surprised hiss of pain as he lurches forward, but Taehyung holds him in
place with this gentle firmness.

“Jeon,” he says. His voice is low and something about it that makes Jeongguk’s body quiver,
makes him boneless and lightheaded. “You’ve got a muscle knot.”

“Oh.”

“This is what you get for having shit posture.”

“Shut up, I don’t--” His protest dies in his mouth though when Taehyung’s hands start moving
again, kneading his back, driving his palms in and up. God, this is so strange; it’s strange because
it shouldn’t be strange. How many times have they been here before? He and Taehyung have done
way weirder things, they’ve done way nastier things. This shouldn’t feel so different, shouldn’t feel
so--

“You really need to stretch more,” Taehyung tells him.

He doesn’t reply though - he can’t - because he would stutter and stall, and then Taehyung would
know, would be able to hear it in his voice - how much Jeongguk likes him, how much Jeongguk
wants this. God, they really fucked up the communication part of this whole thing, didn’t they?
Because he has no idea what Taehyung wants from him and he’s not about to ask him, not about to
scare him away by talking. Whatever happens here now, they’re not going to discuss it tomorrow -
he already knows - and that makes him feel sick and relieved at the same time.

“You’re all tensed up,” Taehyung says, and then he’s leaning forward, his chest pressed against
Jeongguk’s back, and Jeongguk thinks he’s going to kiss him on the neck (are they still doing that?
Are kisses still allowed?) but instead, Taehyung hooks his chin over his shoulder, sandwiches them
together, and somehow, that’s worse. That’s so much worse. Jeongguk can feel the hotness of his
breath on his ear, and he’s shaking slightly and he doesn’t know why. This night is way more
trouble than it’s worth - so much fucking trouble. Should’ve stayed in bed.

“You should use a muscle rub,” he murmurs. “Yoongi has one I think. All organic ingredients or
something like that. It has camphor - real good shit.”

God, Jeongguk really, really wants to kiss him.

“Oh, you boys are up?”

They look behind them to see Esmée standing at the kitchen bar, watching them. She doesn’t say
anything else - her face frozen into a smile - but Jeongguk knows her eyes are moving. Observing.
Registering the hand on his back, and the hand on his waist and the way their bodies are pressed
together. Taehyung must realise too - because he very slowly retracts himself - and Jeongguk
suddenly feels like curling into a ball and dying.

“Yeah,” he hears Taehyung say. “We couldn’t get to sleep, so. Have you been awake this whole
time?”

“No, I woke up like five minutes ago.” Esmée yawns into the back of her hands. “God knows why
- my body hates me. I’m gonna try and get a few more hours in though, just wanted a cup of
water.” She gets a glass and turns the tap on to fill it. “What are you guys watching?”

“Animal Farm,” Taehyung replies.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “George Orwell, huh? Jeongguk, I didn’t know you liked
that kind of stuff.” And behind that veneer of genuine interest, there’s something almost taunting
about it, but he’s not about to rise to the bait - try and prove himself or whatever - because he’s
feeling far, far too shit right now to do so. He just wants her gone.

“I don’t,” he mumbles. “Just wanted to laugh at the poor production value.”

“Ah,” she hums. “I guess we all have a different level of appreciation for things.” She fills up her
glass again. “One for the road,” she explains. “Well, enjoy the rest of it. Bonne nuit, mon chéri.”
Taehyung gives her a small smile in acknowledgement. “Goodnight, Jeongguk.”

“Night,” he replies.

And then she’s padding down the corridor again and disappearing but the damage has been done -
the moment between the two of them has passed, the spell has been broken - and Jeongguk is left
feeling cold and awkward. Deprived of something.

“What’s the time?” he asks Taehyung, because he’s not about to sit here in silence and be
suffocated by it.

Taehyung checks his phone languidly. “Four am.”

“Shit, I have a lecture in five hours.”

”Sucks to be you.” Story of Jeongguk’s fucking life.

“Yup,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “How much more of the film?”

“Forty minutes.”
They watch the rest of it without talking and Jeongguk doesn’t breathe the whole time because his
heart is too busy pounding inside his throat. When the credits start rolling, he nudges Taehyung to
turn the TV off, but he doesn’t get a response.

“Kim?”

He looks to his left to see that Taehyung’s eyes are closed - he’s already asleep. Cute. Slowly, he
reaches over him to grab the remote and switch off the screen himself. And then he just kind of
hovers and stares, watches Taehyung’s chest come up and down slowly, gentle snores rising from
his mouth. He looks so at peace like this - it’s adorable. Jeongguk kind of wants to touch his face
and-- god, where the fuck did that come from? Okay. Hands in lap, Jeongguk. Sit still. Stop being a
freak. He breathes slowly: in through the nose, out through the mouth. Calm down.

He sinks into the sofa, shuts his eyes and tries to fall asleep, but his mind just won’t shut up. Won’t
stop replaying everything that’s happened since March, won’t stop thinking about how messy
everything is now. What had Seokjin said before? The boundaries for casual sex are blurred at
best... yeah. Yeah, sounds about right. Eugh - way more trouble than it’s worth. He was naive to
think he could handle this, that he could just detach himself from all of this. Frankly, he doesn’t
control his feelings - his feelings control him - and at the moment, his feelings are doing a pretty
shit job. He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried really, and now they’re just going to keep
growing until...

And then his blood goes cold because shit, what if he’s already past that stage. What if he’s in
love?

No.

Right?

... shit.

No.

Oh boy, better burn that thought - fucking incinerate it. But of course, the more he tries to not think
about it, the more it just stains his brain, like a mark he can’t get rid of. He tries to be rational
about it: he’s not even known Taehyung a year. That’s not a lot of time in the grand scheme of
things, right? That’s... the odds aren’t high, right?

God, Jeongguk is so fucked. Like, very well and truly fucked. Because at least maybe before, he
had a semblance of a chance but what’s he gonna do now with this whole French-girlfriend-that’s-
not-actually-a-girlfriend element thrown into the mix? How would Taehyung react if he confessed?
Is he being dumb? Like, do people actually do confessions anymore? In real life? Has he been
watching too many movies? He doesn’t want to freak the guy out, but that’s probably what will
happen because that would probably be enough to freak anyone out. He doesn’t want Taehyung to
feel uncomfortable around him if this backfires - that would suck. That would suck so bad.

So what, he just does nothing? Maybe waits it out? Well then, Esmée wins probably - by sheer
persistence alone if nothing else. Fuck. Okay, so maybe don’t lead with the love bit - that’s kind of
loaded anyway. Maybe he should just tell Taehyung he likes him. But Jeongguk would still feel
like shit if he got rejected, and they probably wouldn’t bounce back from that, probably wouldn’t
be able to be friends anymore - not the way they are now - because the delicate balance of their
dynamic would be broken and honestly, Jeongguk would rather just be friends with the guy and be
(partially) miserable around him than not have him in his life at all. Have to avoid him at parties.
Feel awkward passing him on campus. Maybe inaction is the best course of action here. Shit, he
really doesn’t know.

You idiot. He laughs to himself a little, pulls the duvet up to his face in shame. Jeongguk, you
fucking idiot.
 Chapter Eight
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

If Jeongguk wanted confirmation of where he actually stood with Esmée, he definitely gets it the
next morning.

He’s the first one to get up, because none of the others have classes as early as him on a Friday (he
already knows he’s probably going to nod off - no one likes vectors enough to want to learn about
that shit at nine am) and he’s making himself breakfast when Esmée comes walking into the living
room area, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She seems surprised at first that he’s actually up, and then
her face hardens slightly. Well - that’s not promising.

“Morning,” Jeongguk says, feeling nervous and not knowing why. “I’m erm... I’m making tea, do
you want some?”

“I’m going to make this very simple for you,” Esmée says.

Okay then. So... “No sugar?”

“Stay away from Taehyung.”

Wow. Okay then. Taehyung is only lying a couple metres away from them on the sofa, still
snoring softly as he sleeps, and right now, Jeongguk very much envies him. “What?” he says.

Emsée gives him a snarky smile in return. “You heard me the first time.”

Yeah he did, which makes this whole thing all the more baffling. What right does she have,
ordering him around like that, acting like she’s Taehyung’s lawyer? God, it is too early for this
shit.

Maybe he should’ve seen this confrontation coming though: Esmée seems possessive and tenacious
- not the kind of person to go down without a fight, to take something lying down. Jeongguk
guesses he would be the same except apparently, when it comes to matters of the heart, he’s a bit
of a coward because he was, like, fully prepared to take this one lying down. But alas, they’re here
now, and they’re doing this. So. He guesses he’s going to have to stand the hell back up again.

“With all due respect,” he says, as calmly as he can, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

Esmée’s eyes widen slightly in shock, but she’s still smiling - like she’s pleased that Jeongguk
kicked back. Like she’s about to have some fun with this. “Look, I don’t dislike you.” Ah yes: the
start of every good-natured speech. “I think that whatever you and Taehyung have is very cute, I
do. I’m sure you like him a lot, I’m sure you want the best for him. It’s just... whatever you have
doesn’t compare to what we have. Taehyung is my soulmate.”

Everything she says is dripping with this patronising tone and god is it grating. Jeongguk tries to
keep his expression neutral as he listens though because he’s not about to give the bitch the
satisfaction of getting angry. It’s like Namjoon always told him: the moment you start to argue
back is the same moment you automatically lose that argument. The only way to win is to rise
above it - be cool, don’t let it get to you. Roll with the punches. Easier said than done though
because Jeongguk is a fighter by nature and he’s not gonna lie - right now, he really wants to fight.
“Just want to spare you the hurt down the line,” Esmée continues, like she’s his shield, like she’s
protecting him. Maybe she actually believes it too, which would make all of this infinitely worse.
“Taehyung is an impulsive person - greedy, even - and I just don’t think you’ll be the one to satisfy
him.”

Okay... what the fuck? Now Jeongguk is mad. Like very, truly angry. Because maybe he doesn’t
have a chance with Taehyung but frankly, he’s the only one who’s allowed to tell himself that. His
insecurities are his to ponder about, and his alone, so he’ll be damned if he’s about to let himself
be put in place by some five foot baguette he could easily punt if he wanted to.

Okay, calm down. Voice level, Jeongguk - keep your voice level.

“And you think you are?” he asks her. “The one, I mean.”

She smiles. “I do. Taehyung’s stuck around with me longer than anyone else. We have a passion
for the same things, we have the same values - we’re meant to be. And maybe he doesn’t realise
that yet, but it’s okay because when you love someone, you’re patient with them.” Why does
Jeongguk feel like he’s being given a fucking sermon? “So I don’t care what you and Taehyung
have or haven’t done. I don’t even care if you’ve slept together. Maybe you’ve seen his dick, but
I’m best friends with his mum, Jeongguk - we are not the same.”

You’re a quick fuck is what she’s saying - you’re a side project - and honestly, that hurts more than
a little bit.

“So is this, what, you kindly asking me to back off?” Jeongguk says, an eyebrow raised as he tries
to channel his inner-Namjoon.“Kinda weird. If you and Taehyung are meant to be, you shouldn’t
see me as a threat.”

Esmée is quiet for a moment, and he gets a little pang of satisfaction. Then, she’s just shrugging.
“Like I said, I’m doing this for you, don’t want you wasting your time. I’m playing the long game,
Jeongguk. You’re a pawn and I’m the queen... do you understand?”

Yeah, Jeongguk understands: you’re expendable. There were many before you and there will be
many after you. And honestly, that point probably would’ve stung more if he wasn’t so focused on
the fact that this girl just made a chess metaphor out loud. Unironically. Wow. What must it be like
in her brain, Jeongguk wonders. Like, in her mind, is her life just this movie where all her badass
actions are being narrated by Morgan Freeman? Because, in that case, maybe the confidence is
warranted (the man has the voice of God). If not though, she’s just being a pompous asshole;
Jeongguk’s betting on the latter.

“You don’t even know me,” he says, laughing at the sheer unbelievability of all of this.

“I don’t need to,” is Esmée’s reply: you’re not special. He wonders if she’s ever given this talk
before. God, fuck her.

“You know, for someone with such a pretty face, you have a very ugly personality.”

That makes her smile falter slightly, and Jeongguk can’t help but feel a small sense of victory at
having made a little chink in her iron armour, her ice facade. But then, she’s composing herself
again and looking him dead in the eye.

“That’s everyone for you, mon chéri,” she says. “Some people are just better at hiding it. I’m glad
we could drop the false pretence though, Jeongguk. I’ve got to say, it was getting quite tedious.”
She plasters a smile on her face once more, deliberate and deadly. “And concerning the tea, I’ll
have to take a rain check. Thank you anyway.”

And then she’s padding across the floor towards the bathroom and Jeongguk just stands there,
staring after her, feeling oddly defeated. That conversation wasn’t even really about her wanting to
assert herself, establish herself as superior. She just wanted to fuck with Jeongguk’s mind, plant
that little seed of doubt in there - you’re not special - and if he lets it get to him, then she wins. But
God did it get to him. It’s too early in the morning to be shaken up about something, but he’s pretty
sure his fingers wobble slightly while he’s eating his toast, while he sits at the bar alone and thinks
about his inadequacies and feels shittier and shittier about himself.

Nice. What a way to start the day.

His depressive bout lasts until about three pm that afternoon when he returns back from his last
lesson and goes straight to his room because at this moment in time, the only good thing in life is
sleep and he wants to get as much of it as possible. He hasn’t even finished taking off his socks
though when Taehyung’s bursting through the door with a scary look of seriousness on his face.

“Jeon,” he says. “We need to go suit shopping.”

Jeongguk blinks at him, blurry-eyed with tiredness. “... what?”

“The party,” he continues, equally as slowly and solemnly, “is tomorrow. We do not have suits.
Therefore, shopping. For suits. Get your shoes on and get your ass in gear.” And then he closes the
door. When Jeongguk hasn’t moved after like three seconds though, he’s opening the door again
and staring at him with thoroughly unimpressed eyes. “Look, I’m paying, okay? The least you
could do is follow all the orders I give you, all the time.”

“Right. Sorry, Master.”

“Get your fucking shoes on.”

Jeongguk’s in the process of reaching for a pair of trainers when he feels his blood run cold. “Wait,
is Esmée coming with us?” he asks.

Taehyung gives him a puzzled look. “No. She’s finding a dress, doing her own thing. Think she
wants to surprise us with it.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Turns out the city of Sunyeong has just about everything in it, including a shop that specialises in
men’s formalwear. Line & Dot reads the sign on the front of the entrance - this glossy, shiny
revolving door - and when they walk in, Jeongguk is overpowered by the scent of sandalwood.
God, it even smells expensive.

“Okay, first order of business,” Taehyung says, with a clap of his hands; Jeongguk feels like he
needs to remind him that it’s just the two of them right now, and that he’s not on national
television. “A suit. And then we can find a shirt and cufflinks to match, and all that good shit. It’ll
be too late now to get them tailored, so that might limit our options a little bit but c’est la vie. Start
searching, Jeon.”

Jeongguk has no idea where to start though - gazing around at the rows upon rows inside this place,
he feels like an inept child at a candy store. He opts instead to just tag along behind Taehyung
while the guy touches each and everything in his sight, thoughtfully hmming to himself as he does
so.

“Oh, this one’s kind of nice,” Jeongguk says, finally spotting one that doesn’t look crazily
outlandish. But then he checks the price tag. “What the fuck?” He probably said that louder than
he thought he had because the employee behind the register gives him a look of utter contempt. He
smiles apologetically in return, then turns back to Taehyung to whisper, “What the fuck?”

“It has a velvet lapel,” Taehyung offers, unhelpfully.

“Four hundred thousand won for a piece of navy fabric?”

“Four hundred thousand won for a piece of navy fabric with a velvet lapel,” Taehyung corrects
him. “But I agree, it’s a bit overboard. Plus a velvet lapel is totally wasted on you - you have shit
taste and your budget should reflect that.”

“Remind me again how you’re affording this?”

“My dad’s debit card and yes, I know, okay,” Taehyung says before Jeongguk can even open his
mouth. “I know. Spare me the rich kid comments - it’s not like I go on sprees regularly. I
understand the value of money, alright? I also take my job as your personal stylist very seriously,
Jeon. Can’t leave you to your own devices - that would be disastrous.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re the kind of guy who owns one dress shirt you bought six years ago for a middle
school dance.” The accuracy hurts. “And that’s fine - good enough to get through life - but it’s not
good enough for the Kims. Like I said, they make a day of it, so you need a little bit of flair. Not
quite four hundred thousand won worth of flair, but a lot more than what you have now.”

“I see,” Jeongguk replies glumly. “Okay, what about you then, what are you after?”

“Dunno,” Taehyung says, still leafing through different-coloured shirts. “Something tan.”

Is he fucking serious? “Oh, so the most unflattering colour ever then.” Taehyung looks at him,
scandalised. “No. You need to look somewhat decent at your own party Kim, or you’re gonna
make the guests feel uncomfortable.”

“What’s wrong with tan?”

“What’s wrong with...” Jeongguk blinks at him. “Dude, no one can pull off tan.”

“Obama can.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz he’s Obama.” And honestly, that reason is valid enough. How dare he even make a
comparison to a man of that charisma. “I’m sorry - are you Obama?”

Taehyung pauses for a moment - like he’s deeply contemplating it - and then concedes with a
morose shake of his head: no. No he is not. “You make a point.”

“Uh huh.”

They wander around the store for a little longer, although it’s mostly just Taehyung pointing out
things to Jeongguk instead of picking up stuff for himself. “Oh, that would suit you,” he says - for
the upteenth time in the last five minutes - as he points to a black suit hanging a few metres away
from them. The blazer has a gold, floral pattern sprawled across it; it looks kingly, elegant.
Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “It’s a bit... much, isn’t it?”

Taehyung nods his head slowly in appreciation. “Exactly.” And he’s chucking it into Jeongguk’s
arms. “Don’t discard something without trying it.”

“So, how am I supposed to trust your judgment now, knowing you thought tan suits would be a
good idea? Am I good hands?”

“Definitely not,” Taehyung replies, whilst flinging something else - a black shirt this time - his
way. “Try that on too.”

And so commences another half an hour of them traipsing around the store. Jeongguk feels like
he’s trailing after a parent who just doesn’t know when to quit grocery shopping. He knows
Taehyung is hard to please in nature, but this is absolutely ridiculous.

“You’d look fine in any one of these,” he groans. “Just fucking pick one.”

Taehyung pokes him in the cheek playfully. “Was that a compliment, Jeon?”

“No. It’s me being done with your shit. Also, do that again - I dare you. I’ll bite off your fucking
finger.”

His eyes widen in mock shock as he tuts, disappointed. “You have some violent tendencies, you
know.”

“All the more reason for you to hurry up.”

“Jeon, you can’t rush the process.” He raises his arms in front of him, his palms facing
heavenwards as he looks around at the store. “One cannot simply choose a suit.” He pauses for
dramatic effect, and Jeongguk kind of wants to clock him over the head. “The suit must choose
oneself.” God, this guy.

“Jesus Christ--”

“Wait.” He points a finger up, sniffs the air. “I sense something - it’s calling me.”

“You look ridiculous,” Jeongguk mutters. “You know that, right?”

“Over yonder.” He gestures to the next row of clothing.

“As in, nutso.”

“I can hear it.”

“Fucking bird-brained.” Jeongguk sighs, but he reluctantly follows Taehyung anyway, amused
when the older boy stops in his tracks. Then, Taehyung is grinning - wide and boxy and honestly
kind of terrifying. He picks up one of the suits in front of him that’s hanging on the railing and
reveals it to Jeongguk with an exaggerated flourish. It’s velvet, with this rich, dark tone.

“This guy right here, Jeon,” he says. “This is the one.”

“I’m so happy for the two of you,” Jeongguk deadpans. “Now go try it on before I hurt you.”

But then, moments later, he’s stepping out of the changing rooms and Jeongguk feels his throat go
dry. Fuck. If there is a God, then he’s testing Jeongguk way too much because there’s only so
much temptation a pagan like him can handle, and if Taehyung alone already gives him enough
problems, then Taehyung in purple is going to be the actual death of him. Jeongguk wants to cry at
the injustice of it all - it’s not fair for him to look this good.

“How do I look?” Taehyung asks, strutting around like he’s a peacock, and it’s so dumb but
Jeongguk laughs anyway, at the shamelessness of it all. Always giving Taehyung the reactions he
wants - goddammit. No wonder he has a big ego.

“Like a plum,” Jeongguk replies.

“Yes, but a plum with flair, no?”

“So much flair.”

Taehyung grins, satisfied. “Then I have done my job. Alright, let’s see yours then.”

“I already tried it on - like ten minutes ago. You take an eternity to change, you know that?”

“I was admiring myself in the mirror.” He says it as a joke, but also, Taehyung is totally not above
that, so Jeongguk isn’t even sure how to respond.

He rolls his eyes. “Go put your clothes back on.”

“Yessir.”

Once they’ve paid, they start to make their way to leave. “Let’s grab a smoothie,” Taehyung says,
stretching his arms.

“Why?”

“Dunno. I’m in a smoothie mood.”

“And I have to accommodate for that? What if I wanna go home, Kim?”

“One: yes. Two: too bad. We’re getting smoothies.”

The king has spoken.

When they arrive at the café, Jeongguk grabs them a table while Taehyung goes up and orders for
them. “What do you want, Jeon?” he says, and Jeongguk asks for a surprise; he comes back with
strawberry, which is basic and not even remotely surprising but really, Jeongguk is grateful
because he wasn’t in the mood for one of those absurdly exotic combinations that Taehyung
always likes to try. Also, he gets bought the cookies he likes, so really, he’s happy.

When Taehyung sits down, his own drink in his hand, he purses his lips slightly. “Okay,” he says.
“So about tomorrow. I feel like I have to give you a warning.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk hums curiously.

“Basically - huh, how do I phrase this? We’re a really big family,” Taehyung begins, “and none of
us like each other.” Jeongguk snorts and Taehyung kicks him under the table with an unimpressed
look. “Yeah, I thought you’d enjoy that, you prick. I promise you not all elitist families are
dysfunctional - we’re just not an exception, so.”

“Okay, how bad we talking?” Jeongguk asks. “Prepared to kill to inherit more of the will?”

“Nah, we haven’t crossed that threshold yet, but I dunno. It’s not really a family as much as it is a
business - we all view each other in terms of what we can get out of each other.”

“Little toxic,” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung clicks his tongue in agreement. “Little bit. Anyway, there’s gonna be a lot of chaebol
people tomorrow - big conglomerate, CEO type crowd. Most of their kids used to go to my old high
school; they’re major interest groups.”

“Like lobbyists?” Jeongguk asks. “Thought that was illegal here.”

“No, it’s not, like, bribery - my parents aren’t criminals. But they’re still business people - everyone
on my dad’s side is, my dad less so actually - and business is all about having the right guys on
your side - knowing the right people - and my family just happen to know a lot of people who
know the right people.”

“And this is like a networking event?”

“Of sorts, yeah.”

Jeongguk purses his lips in silent understanding. “So... it’s your party but no one’s actually there
for you.”

Taehyung gives a small, sad smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s kind of shitty.”

“Well.” He shrugs. “I get, like, a gazillion gifts, so. Kind of offsets everything.”

“No,” Jeongguk says slowly. Softly. “It doesn’t. It’s still shitty.”

Taehyung’s silent for a moment, and then he sighs. “Jeon, the last thing I need you to be is
righteous, okay? Your only real job is to entertain me all night.” He says it playfully enough, but
there’s a hint of irritation in his voice so Jeongguk doesn’t push any further.

“I see: be Kim’s personal joker. Understood.” Taehyung gives him a look of unspoken gratitude.
“No offence,” Jeongguk continues, “but your family sounds like a cesspool - I’m surprised you
turned out somewhat decent.”

A bark of laughter escapes Taehyung’s mouth. “They’re not, like, fucked up, they’re just greedy - I
think that’s enough to ruin most people. Think money ruins everyone eventually. Wealth is relative
and it doesn’t matter if you’re living comfortably compared to most people on earth - if you’re the
poorest one on your street, chances are you’re going to be unsatisfied. Aristocats have a hierarchy
as well - that’s why people do such pointless shit with their money. They buy twenty pairs of
fucking shoes, they go broke trying to afford a private jet. It’s a status thing - they’re all just
peacocking. People aren’t happier when they have more stuff; they’re just fearful because they
have more to lose. More to prove... I don’t know.”

He takes another sip of his drink in contemplation. “We keep people close because we want
everyone to see us when we succeed. Just a bunch of fucking peacocks.”

Does that make Esmée a feather? Jeongguk thinks, and doesn’t ask - then hates himself for
thinking it. God. At this point, his insecurities are probably seeping out his pores - rotten and black
and ugly.

Taehyung obviously interprets the silence in the wrong way though, because he’s laughing
suddenly - sheepish. “Jesus, stop... looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m damaged goods.” He sighs a little, and somehow he manages to sound blasé and
bothered at the same time. “I’m fine. I don’t want your pity, Jeon - just saying it how it is.”

Jeongguk finds himself bristling with annoyance because god, what does he want from him at this
point? Just when he thinks Taehyung is maybe, genuinely opening up to him about something, he
shuts the door again - makes Jeongguk feel like it’s his fault for caring. Eugh, this boy: more
trouble than he’s worth.

He doesn’t say anything in response - just sips his smoothie in silent bitterness - and maybe
Taehyung senses the tension because suddenly, his eyes are softening. He pushes his own glass
along the surface towards him. “Try some,” he says.

Jeongguk gingerly takes a sip, and then splutters slightly as the taste fills his mouth because what
the actual hell? “This is disgusting.”

“Blueberry and kale,” Taehyung explains. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Don’t...” Jeongguk ogles at him. “Don’t try and make it sound classy, Kim - shit shouldn’t be
mixed. Thought you had taste.”

Taehyung arches an eyebrow dubiously. “You never thought that,” he says.

“True. But now you’ve confirmed it.”

He pushes Taehyung’s cup back towards him, eyes in a pointed glare, which makes Taehyung
laugh. Neither of them say anything for a little while, but then Taehyung’s opening his mouth to
talk again:

“You know, when I was younger...” He swirls his straw in his drink as he speaks - circular,
absentminded motions. “Like really little, I always told myself that when I had enough money to -
money I’d saved up myself - I would get out of here.”

“What’s ‘here’?”

“Dunno,” he admits. “All of it, I guess. All this dynasty shit.”

“Okay, and then what?”

“Well,” he says, with a smile on his face. There’s a childlike glee to it. “The plan was to sell all my
belongings and go live in a shack in the middle of nowhere - Henry Thoreau style. But probably in
the mountains - dunno, I’ve always liked the mountains - and just write and shit. Maybe have a few
goats.”

“Why goats?”

“They’re cool.”

“Are they?”

“They’re-- yeah. I’d get free milk. Cows aren’t made for mountains, and I can’t get milk from
sheep. Also, sheep suck. They get knocked over, there’s no way they’re getting back up again by
themselves. So needy.”
“So you’d rather have an animal that bites you at will?”

“What can I say,” Taehyung says. “I like a challenge.” That he does. “Wanna experience some
simple living.”

“You’re, like, my antithesis,” Jeongguk says.

“What, you wanna be rich?”

“Of course I wanna be rich. Everyone wants to be rich. Well.” He thinks about it for a moment. “I
guess after a certain threshold, money doesn’t, like, solve all your problems - I get that - but it
wouldn’t hurt. One less thing to worry about. I’d be naive to think being loaded wouldn’t taint my
soul a little - it definitely would, I am not above that shit like at all - but I’d still rather be loaded,
so.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Me in a nutshell,” he agrees, having another sip of his drink. “You wanna trade lives?”

“I’ll call you once I’m in the mountains.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They fall quiet again, but it’s a comfortable silence. Under the table, Jeongguk can feel Taehyung’s
shoes pressed up against his, and he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it this time, and the thought
makes Jeongguk's heart flutter slightly, even if he doesn’t really know what it means anymore.
Doesn’t know how to read into it; he probably just shouldn’t.

“So, for your birthday.” He clears his throat slightly. “Your actual one, I mean. You should have
another party - invite people you want.”

“Honestly,” Taehyung shrugs, “I don’t care enough to - wouldn’t want a big thing.”

“Okay, so have a small one. Me, Yoongi, Hobi, Mina - we’ll come to Daegu. We can go up Apsan
Mountain if you want. You know, bring a cooler of beer, make a bonfire, camp out or whatever.”

Taehyung smiles at that, and there’s this achingly familiar warmth about it. “Sure,” he says, “I’d
like that.”

Jeongguk glances down to take another sip of his smoothie, tries not to look so pleased with
himself as he says, “Cool.”

Taehyung’s smile widens. “Yeah. Cool.”

Later that evening:

Jeongguk and Taehyung are lounging on the sofa (doing maths homework, and reading a book
with an unnecessarily long title respectively) when Yoongi comes padding into the kitchen,
unaware that he’s being watched by the both of them - curious, cat-like eyes peering over their
paper as they watch him open the fridge. Stick in a hand. Pull the hand back out, empty. Look
down, hurt and confused, at said empty hand. Repeat the process. Hoseok, an innocent bystander to
this whole scene, is just staring up at the ceiling and semi-napping.

“Right,” Yoongi says as he closes the fridge, and he sounds oddly calm. Unnervingly so.
Somehow, that’s a scarier reaction. “Which one of you fuckers touched my seaweed?”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung asks nonchalantly.

Yoongi gives him a look of absolute venom. The hatred in his eyes is one of burning vengeance.
“The fridge. Has no seaweed in it. My seaweed. Is gone. Which one of you dipshits is
responsible?” He’s staring at Hoseok now, who squeaks a little in protest.

“What are you looking at me for?”

“Well, it was either you or Taehyung so I’m gonna glare at you both until the guilty party fesses
up.”

“Yoongi hyung,” Jeongguk supplies, trying to sound as pacifying as he possibly can, “don’t you
think you’re--”

“Overreacting?” Yoongi’s glare could kill. “Is that what you were gonna say, kid? That I’m
overreacting? Go on - tell me. Tell me I’m overreacting. Say it with your fucking chest.”

The words die at the back of Jeongguk’s throat immediately, and then crawl all the way back down
again. “I’d... rather not.”

Taehyung sighs, a bored expression on his face. “He has a point though, Yoonge, you’re taking this
a little too far.”

“Too far, you say?” Yoongi gives a dry chuckle - it’s not a kind sound. “Too far? I don’t think you
horse arses understand the situation. I live with you. Twenty-four seven. I have to share my space
with you. I have to share the same bathroom as you. I have to wake up every morning and look
down the shower drain and see clumps of your pubes.” What an image.

“That shit breaks a man - I need fucking solace, I need to find peace in something. Seaweed is all I
have. Seaweed, and newspapers and cigarettes - they’re all I fucking have. I just want one goddamn
thing in this goddamn fucking house that I don’t have to share with you goddamn cocksuckers, and
I can’t even have that. I can’t have any nice shit in life because you eat it all.” He bangs his tiny
fist on the kitchen bar to punctuate each word: “What. The. Fuck.”

Taehyung grimaces a little. “Yoonge--”

“What the actual fuck?”

“Tastes shit anyway,” Hoseok mutters.

And just like that, time stops.

It stays suspended in Yoongi’s tightened fist - still and frozen - and it will only start moving again
when he lets it, but for now, the clock is cold, and his gaze is heavy, and Jeongguk thinks about
how he’s lived a nice life up until this point; it’s been real.

Yoongi’s lips curl up slightly. “What?” he says and the gulp Hoseok makes is audible. “What was
that, Hobi?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s okay.” He shifts his weight now, eyes dark bullets as his hand slowly opens once more,
fingers flexing dangerously. “Say it again,” he says. His eyes glint. “I dare you to. I--I want you
to.”

“Hoseok hyung,” Jeongguk says, very slowly, “don’t say it.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I’m with Jeon on this one.”

But that was wishful thinking: maybe it’s the way Yoongi’s sizing him up, or the look of contempt
on his face, or the fact that all cornered animals do stupid things when they feel frightened, but
something makes Hoseok bristle. Makes his mouth move. Makes him repeat: “It tastes like shit.”

And just like that, the anger fizzles out - a red hot ember extinguished. “Right. Okay.” Yoongi
returns back to ice-cold composure - the calm before the storm. Jeongguk finds himself holding his
breath. And then...

“You’re waking up tomorrow without toenails. I’m denailing you, motherfucker. Be ready.” He
grabs his coat angrily from the peg beside the entrance, and shoves his feet into the nearest shoes
he can find.

“Yoonge,” Taehyung says, voice low with concern. “Where are you going, buddy?”

“To buy pliers,” he spits back in response. “And a gas blow torch so I can heat them real good.”
And then he’s slamming the front door behind him.

The air is still when he leaves, the silence choking.

“Should I... be scared?” Hoseok whispers.

“Nah,” Taehyung says.

“He’s... he’s kidding, right?”

“Right,” he replies, but the certainty in his tone wavers slightly. “Yeah. Of course he is. You--you
know how he is - threatens us all the time, it’s just to get the anger out of his system.”

“Cuz this time, I don’t know man--”

“You’ll be okay--”

“--he seemed pretty mad.”

“--and no one’s gonna sell Yoongi a blow torch - he looks twelve.”

“Hey, Tae?”

“Yeah?”

Hoseok turns around to face the two of them, and there’s something unnaturally mechanical about
his movements, like his joints have been shocked into a state of stiffness. His Adam’s apple bobs
as he swallows. Then, he’s reaching a hand over and placing it on Taehyung’s thigh, eyes wide.

“Can I... sleep in here with you tonight?”

Taehyung gives his hand a sympathetic squeeze; Hoseok clutches it back in desperation. “Sure,
man,” he says. “No denailing on my watch.”

"Thank you.”
All the while, Jeongguk watches Taehyung’s poker face, feeling weirdly disgusted and impressed
at the same time. They both stare - in silence - as Hoseok stands up to find comfort in his room, and
start writing his will. The door closes behind him with a small click, and then--

“Don’t,” Taehyung begins, “say anything.”

When Jeongguk glances back towards him, he notices his lips quivering slightly. The fucker.
“Don’t laugh,” Jeongguk says, aghast. “Ohmygod, don’t laugh. That shit--”

“It was kind of funny.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was scary --”

“The tiniest bit.”

“What the fuck, Taehyung?”

“It was so dramatic. Didn’t know Yoonge had it in him.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Did you see his eyes? Oh my god. Oh my god.” Taehyung looks delirious - a mixture of madness
and happiness - and honestly, that in itself is enough to nearly make Jeongguk start laughing
because okay, maybe the whole thing was a little bit ridiculous. Still though:

“It’ll be fine, he said. Manageable doses, he said.”

Taehyung gives him a withering look. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You’re a monster,” Jeongguk replies.

“Jesus--he was--” Taehyung leans back against the sofa, gazes at him with an unimpressed,
unblinking stare. “He was kidding. He’s probably just stomping around the streets like a short, little
gremlin monster trying to, like, get the rage out or whatever. Stamp out the sadness.”

“Hobi’s traumatised.”

“Which is why I’m keeping him company tonight - I’m a good Samaritan.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat then, Jeon. We’re in this together, don’t forget. You’re my accomplice.”

“I was coerced.”

“Yeah, keep talking shit.” Taehyung folds his arms across his chest now, shaking his head slightly
in wondrous disbelief. “All this over algae,” he murmurs.

“But the algae is symbolic,” Jeongguk reminds him: Yoongi’s peace and solace and all that.

“Right. Symbolic algae.”

“Wars have been started over less.”

“Very true, Jeon - very true.”

“Think we need to watch our backs.”

An amused snort escapes Taehyung’s nose, and his eyes sparkle with the sort of innocent glee of a
kid who’s broken a rule and gotten away with it. “Trust me, Yoongi’s had easy access - if he
wanted to do something to us by now, he would’ve. Like I said: empty threats. Just likes to play the
part sometimes - pretending he has to suffer our company and shit. That said, Jeon...” He shifts his
posture slightly, voice lower now, and even though Jeongguk is trying very, very hard not to laugh,
the seriousness in his expression does make him snicker for a very, very fleeting moment. “We
take this shit to the grave.”

“Duh, Kim. Kinda wanna keep my nails,” Jeongguk replies.

“Guess we’re in agreement, then,” he says, with a wink - this covert, furtive thing. Like they have a
secret between them; like they’re sharing something special. God, he needs to stop doing shit like
that.

“Guess we are, dumbass.”

Then, Taehyung’s lighting up with excitement again. “We need to make a pact,” he declares. “Like
in Blood Brothers.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm?” He seems distracted as he thinks. “It’s a musical about these twins. They both die at the
end but that--that’s not pertinent to the issue at hand.”

“Oh, is it not?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow before shrugging. “Alright then, what are we putting
on the line, Kim? What are the stakes?”

“Our lives,” he replies solemnly.

Jeongguk laughs at that. “Ooh, very dramatic. How fitting. Question though: how valuable an asset
is your life to me if your liver’s already fucked? You’ve got, what, ten years max?”

Taehyung’s foot comes out to kick his calf in mock irritation. “Okay firstly, I’m not an alcoholic,
Jeon. Just know how to have a good time.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk sighs gravely. “That’s exactly the type of thing an alcoholic-in-denial would
say.”

“Fuck off.”

“Bet your dogs - they’re gonna last longer.”

“Don’t you dare bring them into this - don’t involve them in my sin.”

“Bet Cosette.”

“That has some fucked up implications, Jeon.” He narrows his gaze in suspicion. “I don’t like
where this is going...”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Alright then, your crummy life it is.” They shake on it.

And then Taehyung’s leaning back against the sofa again, and he’s smiling slightly - it’s squinty,
and boyish, and cute because honestly, he is cute. When he wants to be. When he’s turned off the
charm, and the sex, and he’s just smiling real easy like this - small, like it’s a secret - and it’s
adorable, and Jeongguk’s staring, and he knows he’s staring - and shit, he really needs to stop
 fucking staring - but then Taehyung’s staring back, maybe. Looking at him with eyes that never
miss anything. Eyes that flicker down to his lips, and then back to his face, and Jeongguk thinks:
they could do something right now, couldn’t they? No one else is here, and Esmée’s asleep (also:
fuck Esmée, man - Jeongguk doesn’t owe that French fire hydrant a goddamn thing) and
Taehyung’s looking at him like that, and they could totally do something. Even if it’s just cuddle.
Honestly, all Jeongguk would need right now is a cuddle - he just wants a hug. He just wants
Taehyung’s arms around him, and really, there’s nothing stopping him, and if he was just brave
enough to open his mouth, and say something, and--

“I’m gonna--” Taehyung gestures behind him with a dismissive wave of his hand, shifts his body a
little. “Gonna see how Hobi’s faring. Give him some emotional support.” And just like that, the air
shifts, and it’s awkward again, and for fuck’s sake, why can’t anything in Jeongguk’s godforsaken
life ever be semi-easy for once? Why does he have to fight so hard to not feel weird about things?

He tries to swallow down the lump of disappointment in his throat as he says, “Right,” but it
doesn’t quite dislodge.

Taehyung eyes dart down to his lips again, and maybe for the tiniest miniscule of a second, he
hesitates, but then he’s smiling again - wide and glossy - and Jeongguk thinks: fuck this. Fuck
everything. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Goodnight, Jeon.”

“Night...”

Jeongguk watches him stand up, and saunter down the corridor, and when he’s gone, he picks up a
cushion from the sofa, buries his face in it, and silently screams.

Chapter End Notes

Lmao, we love a backwards progression. Things get worse before they get better folks
- warning you now. (I’m sorry: I’m evil. Fight me :3) But fret not - a happy ending
awaits thee.

Also, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to leave feedback, and
comments, and encouragements and all that good shit - genuinely, I appreciate it. Y’all
sweet - thank you, thank you, thank you ^^
 Chapter Nine
Chapter Summary

Jeongguk can't catch a break.

Chapter Notes

Ahh, I’m sorry this update’s late (turns out having a life again can be time-consuming
who'da thunk it). Also, writer’s block has not been nice to me, but I figured that
deliberating over so many rewrites probably wouldn’t help things so yeah. Not a
hundred percent happy with this chapter, but I hope you like it anyway lmao ^^

For all of you (cowards) who need the heads-up: there’s some angst headed your way.
Guard your hearts my lovelies and enjoy :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The next day, Jeongguk is lounging on one of the sofas when Yoongi walks inside from a smoke
on the balcony. At first, he’s too scared to make eye contact with the guy - lest he whips out the
blow torch - but when he does look, Yoongi just gives him a nod of acknowledgement in response:
a nonverbal good morning, but a good morning nonetheless. Jeongguk suddenly feels a whole lot
safer; maybe the stomping did help suppress the rage.

A few moments later, Esmée comes gliding into the living room (somehow she never walks - she’s
always gliding, like a fucking fairy) as Yoongi puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, and then he
picks up the newspaper and pencil he left on the bar.

“You know,” she tells him, with that patronising lilt to her voice, “smoking isn’t great for you.”

“Yeah, neither is unrequited love I heard,” Yoongi replies, not even bothering to look up from his
paper. “Guess we both have things we need to work on.”

Honestly, Yoongi is his hero at this point: he wishes he could come up with one-liners that
consistently. Instead, he just teeters between being on fire with his responses, or just being
generally inarticulate and that’s no fun.

Esmée smiles in amusement. “I’m gonna miss you when I leave, Yoongi.”

“Wish I could return the sentiment,” he says drily. Then he’s asking, “Jeongguk, who’s that guy in
Forgotten again? Plays the lead’s brother.”

“Erm... Kim Muyeol.”

He scribbles the name down on the paper. “Thanks, kid.”

Esmée peers over his shoulder in curiosity, a gesture that he responds to with a pointed scowl and
the hunching of his back. She laughs again, then looks around. “Taehyung isn’t home?”
“He went shopping,” Yoongi mutters.

“How long do you think he’ll be?”

“Dunno, am I the guy’s carer?”

She sighs again, louder than she needed to, and leans against the kitchen bar. “Just want to say
goodbye to him before I go.”

In all his frustration and inner turmoil last night, Jeongguk had forgotten that she was supposed to
be heading off to Seoul today to see her parents. She’s spending the day with them, and then
driving down to Daegu for the party later, which kind of baffles him because for someone who
seems pretty adamant about him not spending time with Taehyung, she sure is giving him a lot of
opportunities to spend time with Taehyung. He doesn’t know whether to be grateful or on guard,
like this is all part of some evil, conspiratorial plan.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to reply - just continues with his crossword in silence - and Jeongguk
continues staring down at his phone to avoid any unwanted eye contact with red-haired Beelzebub.

When Taehyung eventually returns with the groceries, Esmée runs over to him. “Finalement, t’es
ici. T’as pris ton temps.”

He’s only now realised how often Esmée likes to talk in French when she’s around them. Sure, it’s
her native language but there’s something so deliberate about it (although, at this point, he’s just
convinced that nothing Esmée does is accidental - she’s a little witch). It’s as if she’s purposely
trying to isolate them from a conversation, and there’s something so disconcerting about it. Like,
the two of them could just be talking about the weather today, or a book they’ve read, or, you
know, making plans to fuck in the bathroom. Either way, Jeongguk wouldn’t know, and it bothers
him, and she knows it bothers him, and he knows that she knows it bothers him, but he still lets her
win by not being able to get over the fact that it bothers him. Honestly, power move to the fucking
max. She’s practically Taehyung with a vagina - also very disconcerting.

“Tiens,” he says, handing over a bag to her and setting the rest of them on the counter. “Merci.”

Yoongi eyes the bulging bags with confusion. “You know we only have, like, four days left in this
place, right?” he says. “What’d you buy so much crap for?”

“My mum wanted me to get some snacks for tonight,” Taehyung says. “She’s got too many
meetings today, can’t get to the shops in time.”

“Mhmm.”

Taehyung turns back to Esmée, who’s looking at him with gleaming eyes. “What?” he laughs.

“I have something for you.”

He gasps in mock delight. “Pour moi?”

“Pour toi,” she grins. “It’s an early birthday present.”

“Why not wait till tonight?” Yoongi gripes. “Like everyone else?”

Taehyung gives him a look: play nice, it says.

“Because this is only the first part,” Esmée explains, digging around in her pocket before bringing
out a small white envelope. “Okay, open it,” she says. “Open it, open it, open it.”

Taehyung does, giving her cautious looks as he reaches inside and pulls out... tickets. Plane tickets.

“Ah,” he says.

“Wait, there’s more inside, there’s...” She digs her own fingers into the envelope and fishes out a
small piece of paper before unfolding it.

“What’s this?” Taehyung asks as she hands it over to him.

“The itinerary,” she explains, “for when we go back to France. If mean--if you want to go.
Obviously. But I was thinking it could be a nice way to spend the holidays. You could come back
with me and” - she’s pointing enthusiastically at the itinerary now; it’s almost cute - if Esmée was
the kind of person who could actually pull off cute - “there’s a firework display in Saint-Cloud on
the Thursday, and I know this really good ramen place near there, and we could--”

“Esmée.” There’s a small, pained smile on Taehyung’s face. “That’s real sweet of you, but the
flight’s on Monday.”

“So?”

“So...?” He gives her a look. “That’s in two days. Could’ve given me, like, a warning or
something. I had plans for Christmas - I was going to go couples ice-skating with Yoongi.”

“Yeah princess,” Yoongi says, with a triumphant flourish of his newspaper, “we were gonna go
ice-skating.”

“But you can do that any year,” Esmée pouts. “I only turn twenty once - I wanna spend it with you.
And you could be in Paris for your birthday. Or we could go back to Provence. You love it there - I
know you do - you miss it. It would be so magical.” When he says nothing in response though, she
sighs, taking one of his hands in hers. Man, this girl has no shame. (And somehow, Jeongguk
thinks the only reason he hates that is because he wants that). “You’re right though, I should’ve
asked you earlier. I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me. Think about it though, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go of it. “I will.”

“Génial.” She beams, starting to grab her bag and coat. “Okay, I need to leave now, but I’ll see you
later mon amour, je peux pas attendre ce soir. Bye, Yoongi.” Yoongi grunts in response. “Bye,
Jeongguk.”

“Bye,” he replies weakly.

She slings a small travel bag over her shoulder, and then she’s leaving the room the same way she
always enters: in a flash of auburn energy.

A few minutes later, Yoongi is sighing a little as he starts his sudoku puzzle. He glances at
Taehyung. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to go.”

“Haven’t even said anything, Yoonge,” he sing-songs, starting to unpack the bags.

“Yeah, but I can see it in your face. Your pathetic little puppy eyes.”

“Don’t think this is a healthy friendship,” he jokes, but Yoongi is giving him a serious look.

“How long are you gonna play into her bullshit fantasy, Tae? You’re leading her on - that’s a real
dick move.”

He frowns now, clearly feeling attacked. “I’m not--”

“And I know you don’t want to hurt her but you’re not doing the two of you any favours, letting her
drag you around like this. Grow a fucking pair already.”

“Yoonge, can I... sort out the shopping in peace please?”

Yoongi shrugs apathetically and continues filling in the numbers, and Jeongguk doesn’t dare look
up from his phone screen lest he get caught in the crossfire, doesn’t even want to get involved;
right now, Twitter is his friend.

A few minutes later though, Taehyung’s calling his name, and Jeongguk reluctantly looks up to see
him holding two packets in his hands. “Profiteroles,” he asks, “or lemon creme cookies? For
tonight.”

Jeongguk considers it for a moment. “You want finger food, right? Go lemon creme - profiteroles
get messy after a few.”

Taehyung nods sagely. “Oh, he’s a thinker.”

“I try. Might surprise you, but not everyone’s head is hollow on the inside.”

“Ah, just mine then,” he jokes.

“Just yours,” Jeongguk replies.

The smile Taehyung gives him back though doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

When Jeongguk finally puts on the suit, he’s not going to lie: he likes it a lot more than he thought
he was going to. He looks way nicer than he thought he was going to. Holy shit - suits are good.
Suits are kind of awesome. He steps out into the living room - feeling like the emperor of the world
- and Hoseok wolf whistles in appreciation.

“Agreed,” Jeongguk says solemnly. “I’m fucking hot.”

“Yeah you are,” Mina says, with a little hoot of her own. Even Yoongi grunts lowly in approval,
and Jeongguk has never felt more validated in his entire life. “Give us a twirl, then.” Jeongguk does
a little spin for her, and she squeals with glee as she claps her hands; the enthusiasm is as endearing
as it is hilarious. “Oh, my boy’s so handsome.”

“See Jeon, I knew you cleaned up nicely. Just needed a little assistance,” Taehyung says.

“Don’t sound so smug about it, Kim.”

“Kind of hard not to be when I was the creator of all this. You can thank me on the way there -
taxi’s here already, so we need to haul ass.”

“When you get back, you can give me a private show,” Mina jokes, winking so audaciously that
Jeongguk can’t help but rattle with laughter.

“Mina, keep it in your pants, you fucking predator,” Hoseok says, with a roll of his eyes.
“Jeon,” Taehyung says, grabbing his coat and throwing it Jeongguk’s way. “Taxi. Downstairs.
Now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When they clamber into the back of the vehicle, Jeongguk realises just how long Taehyung’s legs
are. They’re the same height, but somehow, every part of his body is just more somehow -
stretches wider, demands space. Maybe it’s just the way he sits - splaying himself out, spreading
himself everywhere, his body pressed against Jeongguk’s arm. He turns his head slightly to press
his nose into Jeongguk’s shoulder, and Jeongguk tries not to flinch too much at the action, to think
anything of it.

“You smell nice,” Taehyung says, shameless as ever.

“Thanks. Quit sniffing me.”

“Feel like I recognise it...”

“You should - it’s yours.”

Taehyung gazes at him, unblinking. “Stealing from me now, are we?”

“Only ‘cuz you make it so easy,” Jeongguk replies. “Stop leaving your stuff out and maybe I won’t
be tempted.”

“Weak excuse, Jeon.”

“You’ve got drawers is all I’m saying - use ‘em.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve gotta admit though - you got some real fancy cologne, Kim.”

He cocks an eyebrow, but looks pleased. “Is this you finally approving of my taste?”

“It’s me saying you own one nice thing,” Jeongguk scoffs. “Love to extrapolate, don’t you?”

Taehyung smiles, leaning away again as he lies back against the seat, and Jeongguk tries real hard
not to watch him out of the corner of his eyes, the way he moves like water. Molten and effortless.
“Pretty sure that’s your forte.”

“Sure.”

After a few hours of travelling, they finally arrive at Taehyung’s family home, and Jeongguk’s
honestly a little blown away.

“Wait, this is where you live?” he asks, once they’ve gotten out of the taxi.

“No, it’s a hall we own - it’s only used for social events really. It’s not even ours officially -
belongs to my grandma - but my dad manages all her assets because she can’t be bothered
anymore, and she doesn’t trust the others. She’ll probably leave it to us in the will.”

They walk up the wide driveway and Jeongguk gazes around - at the perfectly cut lawn, the
flowerbeds, the big, glossy windows and high hexagonal roofs. Besides its size, there’s something
else so majestic about the building - something stately and sophisticated. It’s not new-money,
modern, trying-too-hard impressive - it’s elegant and ghostly. A place with history.

“So,” Taehyung says, with a small sigh as they step inside, “I know my parents seem like super
successful people, but in reality, compared to the rest of our family, we’re not at the top of the
pecking order. All my aunties and uncles are, like, hedge fund managers and venture capitalists and
investors and shit, you know? They make big money.”

There’s a cloakroom to their left - when it’s opened, it’s more spacious than Jeongguk had expected
it to be - and he watches as Taehyung shrugs off his coat before draping it over one of the pegs,
gazes as he drags a hand through his hair. Fluid motions, always - graceful without trying.

“Politicians are influential people, but they’re hardly millionaires - at least not here - and my
parents know this, so there’s always this, I don’t know, not tension, but...” Jeongguk hangs his own
jacket, and they continue down the corridor. “I guess they feel like they have to prove themselves,
maybe. Hence.” He gestures around the building, at the stench of its ostentation: the expensive
décor, the murals on the wall, the golden trinket boxes.

“I mean, it’s a nice place,” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, flicking at a coral sculpture on one of the end tables. “Nice...”

When they enter the main hall, the only people who have arrived already are the catering team,
several servers, and a dark-haired woman on the phone. Jeongguk doesn’t need confirmation to
know she’s Taehyung’s mum; the resemblance is uncanny. It's not so much their appearance as it is
their mannerisms - the way they stand straight and strong like statues, the intensity of their eyes,
the slight cock of their head as they talk. She has the same figure - tall and thin - same piano
fingers, and standing there, looking frail and beautiful, she reminds Jeongguk of a flower in a field
before it gets plucked from the ground.

“... yes. Yes, I understand that, but Jaehyung-ssi you have to appreciate the fact that we’ve been
dealing with this for three weeks now, and really, there’s no hard evidence--yes. Yes. No, I see that,
but the coverage is hardly beneficial - positive or otherwise...” As she sees Taehyung approach, she
rolls her eyes and mouths incompétent to him under her breath, which makes him grin. “Well
really, it’s not the public’s right to know... Uh huh. Look, I’ll be back in my office on Monday -
perhaps we can discuss things in more detail then... Yeah--uh huh. Perfect. Okay.”

Hanging up, she turns to face them. “Mon petit champion,” she sighs, giving him a peck on the
cheeks. “Ça va?”

“Yeah,” he says, giving her hand a hard squeeze. “Jeongguk, this is my mum. Maman, this is
Jeongguk - he goes to my uni.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says, business smile and all.

“Likewise.”

“Here are your supplies,” Taehyung says, handing her the grocery bag of food.

“Oh, je t’aime,” she says as she takes it and looks inside. “Reliable.”

“As always.”

“Well, not always,” she clucks. “Better than your dad though - he was supposed to be here an hour
ago, help me make sure everything was set up--ooh, custard slices. I’ll put this over with the
cakes... but your Aunt Byeol won’t eat these, will she? I couldn’t get that bukkumi stuff your dad
likes - the store was out. There’s a convenience shop a ten minute drive away from here though--”

“It’s fine, maman,” Taehyung tells her. “She’ll eat cake.”

“Yeah... yeah.” She sighs. “You know how she is though - she won’t want any European stuff.
Maybe I can ask the caterers to make some dalgona, that’s easy enough, isn’t it? Just sugar and
baking powder, right?”

“Stop creating work for yourself.”

“Yeah.” She puts a palm to her temple, with a defeated click of her tongue. “Yeah, no you’re right.
Okay. Erm, I’m gonna...” She gives the grocery bag a little shake, and gestures towards the dessert
table. “Put these over there, and then--” Her phone starts ringing again, and she curses under her
breath. “Cet idiot encore - une seconde, mon chou. Hello, Jaehyung-ssi...”

Taehyung watches her as she walks away. “Aunt Byeol is very patriotic,” he explains to Jeongguk,
once she’s out of earshot. “She doesn’t like foreigners.”

“Ah,” he replies.

“She’s always ribbing my mum about how she’s not ‘Korean enough’ - which, of course she isn’t,
she’s only been here five years - but she’s still trying to, like, prove herself, and...” He trails off
when he notices Jeongguk giving him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just...” Jeongguk shrugs. “You’re telling me an awful lot about your family.”

Taehyung blinks for a moment. “I--yeah, I guess?” An embarrassed smile flickers across his lips.
“I mean, I just figured who are you gonna tell, right? ‘Cuz you’re not really a part of this ‘world’,
or whatever...”

Jeongguk snorts a bit. “Yeah, fair enough. Guess I’m your confidant then - god knows you need
one, for all your secrets and surprises and shit.”

Taehyung smiles. “Sure,” he says.

They spend the next half an hour just loitering next to the snack tables because once Jeongguk gets
a sight of the food, he doesn’t want to move away, ever.

“Champagne flutes?” he mock-gasps, staring at the trays. “You guys have flutes? How bougie.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, but he looks slightly embarrassed. “Oh my god, you have the tiny, baby
sandwiches. That’s so adorable, and like, so fucking pointless. Oh wow, hors d'oeuvres?”

“Stop,” he says with a laugh.

“I can’t - I feel like I’m in The Great Gatsby.” Taehyung watches, thoroughly unimpressed, as
Jeongguk eats seven fish cake balls in a row.

Then, he’s picking up a bottle from the surface. “Okay, Jeon,” he says, in that boomy, announcer,
pay-attention-to-me voice that he always uses before he tells Jeongguk something completely
useless and unnecessary, “soju may be the spirit of the gods, but France makes the best wine.”

“Eh,” Jeongguk responds. “You’re biased.”

“I’m not. Bordeaux makes the best shit - objectively - and my dad has the best collection.” He
swirls the bottle invitingly. “Gimme a glass, c’mon.”

Jeongguk watches as Taehyung pours some dark red liquid into two glasses. “What is it?”

“Château Margaux,” he replies, passing him one and clinking them together. “It’s good, trust me.”
Jeongguk takes a sip. He can confirm: it is good.

Soon, guests start arriving, and one thing Jeongguk learns very quickly - by the number of
strangers who come up to them to wish Taehyung a Happy Birthday - is that the guy has a lot of
cousins.

“So, how are you related to half the people here?” he asks.

“My dad has six siblings - it’s a big family.”

“Wow, grandparents must’ve been busy. Guess that runs in the family.”

“... don’t make me hurt you, Jeon.” He finishes off the rest of his drink (his third glass now -
Jeongguk reckons he should tell him to slow down a little, but drunk Taehyung might end up being
the best thing about all of this so he decides to keep quiet for now) and then he’s clapping his
hands together. “Alright,” he says, eyes suddenly determined. Cute. It’s always the little things -
the random moments of seriousness when seriousness is not at all warranted - that makes
Jeongguk’s heart melt a little. “Ready to mingle with these vultures?”

He sighs in response, already feeling like this night is going to be a long one. “Is it weird that I’m
nervous? Think my palms are sweaty.”

“That’s your first mistake, poor boy.” Taehyung gives a small shake of his head. “Don’t let them
smell your fear.”

“Noted. Let me just negotiate with my glands.”

The small-talk part of the evening goes surprisingly smoothly. Jeongguk thought, given his general
awkwardness and aversion to strangers, he would’ve struggled but he mostly just asks the other
guests questions about themselves, and he guesses Taehyung is right: there is a part of everyone
that likes talking about themselves. With his family, that part is pretty big. It makes sense though;
they’ve travelled the world, they’ve met celebrities - they’re bound to have stories they want to
share - and most of them are interesting enough, so Jeongguk ahs and ohs and really?s at the right
time as he listens patiently to their ten-minute recounts, and tries (but usually ultimately fails) not
to zone out during the middle of them.

Taehyung though - Taehyung is a pro: mirroring people’s body language, and leaning in closely in
curiosity, and laughing at their dumb jokes like they’re actually funny. And he makes it look so
easy too - so genuine and natural. He’s had more practice, Jeongguk figures - he’s been practising
his whole life. Still, it’s impressive.

“You’re good at this,” Jeongguk muses, as Taehyung pours him another glass - Pinot Noir this
time, he’s taking him through the whole catalogue.

“Hmm?”

“Making people feel good about themselves.”

He doesn’t say it as an accusation, but there’s a shift to Taehyung’s facial expression nonetheless, a
narrowing of his eyes. “What can I say?” He hands the wine over to him. “I’m a smooth talker.”
“That you are,” Jeongguk replies, and then he changes the subject: “Esmée’s not here yet?” he
asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, and honestly, he does a good job: well done him.

“Yeah, the traffic in Seoul is crazy this time of day - it’s gonna take her two hours tops to drive
down.”

“Ah.” The prospect gives him a small sense of relief, and then he feels stupid for feeling relieved
because he’s scared goddamnit. “She’s a bit... intense, isn’t she?” And he says it in a curious,
inquisitive way - like how scientists address test subjects - as to not give the impression that he’s
talking shit about her (even if it’s fully his intention to talk shit about her).

Taehyung’s pouring his own drink now; he glances up distractedly. “Hmm?”

“Esmée.”

“Oh.” He laughs slightly. “Erm, yeah - to be fair. She’s just kind of guarded; she’s lovely once you
get to know her.”

Yeah, Jeongguk bets she’s lovely to him. “You guys seem close.”

“She was my first ever real friend, so.” Taehyung shrugs. “I do care about her, just like... I guess
not in the way she wants. Maybe.” Which is a statement that somehow manages to tell Jeongguk
everything and nothing all at once. Jesus.

He looks down at his shoes, which gleam back at him (very polished, courtesy of Mother Mina).
“Right,” he says. “Fair enough.” They finish off their drinks, and then back into the fray they go.

Taehyung’s family likes to gossip - a lot - which doesn’t really surprise him. Jeongguk figures that
when you don’t have a lot of big problems to actually tackle in life, you create smaller ones to feel
valid, like you have to suffer through shit too. Honestly, the number of scandals he’s passively
been involved in tonight is actually kind of impressive:

“Taehyung-ah! Okay, you didn’t hear this from me and I heard that Jaeho, you know, Soomin’s
little boy...”

“Kunwoo and Yeona eonni are getting couples’ therapy now. Can’t say I’m surprised but...”

“Apparently, Kwan’s studying Art and Design next year. Useless subject - what’s that ever gonna
do for her...”

After a pretty brief rant about one of Taehyung’s uncle’s ‘failed start ups’ (What did I tell him,
Tae? Didn’t I say it was too risky? No market for that stuff here, didn’t I say it? Yeah, I said it -
fucking idiot.”), Jeongguk feels Taehyung tug gently on his sleeve.

“Hey, let’s take a ten,” he murmurs.

Jeongguk gives him a confused look. “Hmm?”

“Outside, Jeon - want some air.”

On their way to the glass double doors leading out into the garden, they’re ambushed by
Taehyung’s great uncle who wants to tell them all about how he snorkeled with manta rays in Bora
Bora (“Majestic creatures - absolutely huge.” “Ah. Is that so?”) but once he’s released them from
captivity, Taehyung heads for the doors again at twice the speed, barrels through them like he’s on
a mission. He sits down on the edge of the porch and Jeongguk joins him, stretching his legs out on
the grass below. Then, Taehyung’s head is flopping down on his shoulder, an incoherent groan
leaving his lips as his ear makes impact. He goes limp and rests his weight on Jeongguk’s side.

“You alright, buddy?” Jeongguk muses.

“Ngh,” Taehyung grunts back.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah... shit, sorry.”

Jeongguk leans his head on his, asks tentatively, “You feeling... sad?”

Taehyung snorts at that a little, and readjusts his position slightly. “Fucking fine, Jeon. Don’t think
those chicken balls were cooked properly.”

“Sure, blame it on salmonella instead of your emotions - always easier.”

“What did I tell you about trying to therapize me?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “That I do a shit job at it?”

“Yeah, comment still stands.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Just feel tired, I dunno.”

“Yeah, fair enough...” Taehyung always looks so in his element when he’s talking to people - it
never really occurred to Jeongguk that even he could find that shit draining after a while.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asks, when Taehyung finally pulls his head away and sits up again.

“Hmm?”

“How everyone in your family talks so much shit.”

He barks with laughter. “I mean not really? ...yeah? It’s just the reality of the situation maybe - I’m
just used to it. And anyway, if you put that large a group of people together, they’re never all gonna
get along all the time.”

“Well yeah, I suppose... dunno, it would be entertaining if it was just petty instead of... snarky, I
guess. Mean. It just makes it all more...”

“Sad?” Taehyung offers.

“Yeah. In a way.”

He clicks his tongue, rests a cheek on his palm. “Yeah...”

They sit there for a little while without talking, side by side, staring out at the black inkiness of the
sky, the dense forest in front of them, the trees swaying gently in the winter wind. It’s a jarring
juxtaposition to the business inside the hall - all the talking, and the laughing, and the jostling. Out
here, it’s just dark. Still. Quiet.

And then Taehyung starts talking into the night, his voice soft and contemplative: “ I went to the
woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I
could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

There’s a stretch of silence. Jeongguk blinks. Twice. “Motherfucker, are you quoting at me?”
The corner of Taehyung’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “It’s Henry Thoreau.”

“Ah. Your idol.”

“You joke, but that’s one hundred percent the truth.”

“Why do you like the guy so much again?” he asks.

“Dunno, he’s admirable. A proper visionary, Jeon.”

“Ooh.”

Taehyung snorts. “Ooh indeed. Seriously, he was cool. He--okay, so basically” - he sits up
straighter now, teacher-stance at the ready as his eyes shine - “He went to Harvard University, so
you know - bright guy - think he studied Greek or something, I forget - and you’d think he’d want
to make his degree count for something, that he’d be feeling some kind of pressure from his family
or his friends or whatever to make something out of his life. So, he gets a job as a teacher at his old
grammar school, but they used corporal punishment there and, you know, he’s not a fan, so he just
quits. After two weeks. He quits his brand new job. And it’s not like hitting kids was seen as
immoral then, or owning slaves, or most of the other stuff he opposed. He just stood against it
because he had this intuition - because he knew deep down within himself that to him it was
wrong, so really, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He didn’t give a shit what anyone else
thought - he just kind of did his own thing, stayed in the woods for two years, tried to transcend the
clutter of life and actually live or whatever. Well...”

There’s a pause. “Okay, in all honesty, the guy was probably a narcissist, and he thought
humankind was beneath him, but eh.” He makes a dismissive wave with his hand. “No one’s
perfect. Point is: guy had balls. Dunno... think people like that are cool, I guess. Doing something
different before it’s accepted - kinda wanna be like that.”

Jeongguk glances at him for a moment. “What, and you fear your balls are too small?”

Taehyung grins slightly at that. “Eugh,” he says. “All the time, Jeon.” And then he starts talking
about transcendentalism and the power of the individual and other shit that Jeongguk knows
nothing about, but suddenly, he really doesn’t want to go back into the hall. He wants to stay out
here and listen to Taehyung ramble forever, wants to steal him away from everyone; take the sun
out of the sky and keep it.

“Um, my mum’s probably wondering where I am.”

But Taehyung isn’t his to keep - a sad reality that Jeongguk needs to be okay with. Eventually.

“Yeah.” He feels a bit numb as he watches Taehyung shake off the dirt on his shoes and stand up to
head for the door. Waits a few seconds before he follows him.

In all honesty, most of the guests here aren’t assholes, or bad people. Ignorant maybe, but not
unkind. Jeongguk tries to keep remembering that they’ve lived very different lives since birth - of
course they’re different people - so he also tries not to take it to heart when one of Taehyung’s
aunt’s clients complains to him about how her billions of won get taxed too much by the
government. He just nods sympathetically: poor thing. He guesses if he were someone who could
snap his fingers and make a champagne flute appear in his hands on demand (damn, imagine
having this ability from birth though - what a power trip, that must change a person), he might also
be someone inclined to complaining about shit that’s not important in the grand scheme of things
like in the slightest. He can’t hate her for it.

That said, there are definitely some assholes.

Like this guy with his pretentiously preppy crew neck sweatshirt and silk scarf (who the fuck wears
a scarf inside? Unless you’re part of a rock band from the 70s, scarves are for keeping you warm
and that’s their sole purpose – that is all). God, what’s his name even? Jaewon? There have been
too many to memorise this evening, and Jeongguk’s brain is nearing saturation-point. How
Taehyung manages to remember all his third cousins twice removed is beyond him.

This guy’s not a relative though. He went to Taehyung’s high school. Three years their senior, heir
to the family business - they make electronics or something like that - and honestly, Jeongguk
completely understands what Yoongi had told him before: total asswipe. Asswipe incarnate. K-dog
- that’s what he calls Taehyung. As in, “Wow, K-dog. It’s been so long, how are you?” and it
would be funny if it was a joke, but it’s not, and Jeongguk kind of wants to mercilessly bully him
for it but he’s not here to antagonise people. He’s just the joker; Taehyung’s social portable
charger. He needs to stick to his role, needs to resist the urge to roll his eyes out of his fucking
skull.

Jaewon is currently complaining about a worker strike at one of their factories in Thailand – it was
supported by funds from some non-profit organization, Jaewon doesn’t remember the name – but
it’s one of their bigger workshops and if order isn’t restored, it could cause lower investing
confidence. Something along those lines. Honestly, Jeongguk is just focusing on the way his
eyebrows arch and curve and bounce as he speaks – as he says words like synergize and debt-
equity ratio as if to prove he knows such words exist – as he keeps readjusting the goddamn
fucking scarf.

He’s not properly listening because really, he knows guys like this - he’s been speaking to guys like
this all night – people who probably spend more on their wardrobe than they do looking after the
wellbeing of the people in their conglomerates, and some of them are harmless enough, but some
of them just piss him off, and honestly, his fuse has been getting shorter and shorter with each
conversation he’s had, so really, maybe it’s just at its breaking point, and that’s probably why he
finds himself saying, halfway through one of Jaewon’s sentences: “This probably wouldn’t happen
if you just paid them enough though, right?”

The whole circle goes silent.

For the first time this whole evening, nobody says a word, and Jeongguk kind of likes that. Since
he’s got the floor now, he might as well roll with it: “How much do you pay them?” he asks
Jaewon, who just kind of stares back at him mutely. “Can’t be more than a living wage.” Can’t you
afford at least that, Mr Premium Scarves? “That’s kind of fucked.”

For a few seconds, Jaewon’s eyes gleam like knives – as if he’s sizing him up – and Jeongguk
thinks to himself: well, this should be good. “Well actually, it’s a common misconception that
increasing working wages is good for a country.” Oh, pray do tell. He continues speaking, but at
this point he’s addressing the whole group again, not Jeongguk directly: performing. Peacock
through-and-through. “Manufacturing and the secondary sector make up a large proportion of the
GDPs of emerging countries, and their cheap labour is one of the key components in attracting
investment from—"

“Yeah no, that’s an interesting point,” Jeongguk interrupts. “Erm, you’ll have to finish it for me
later, I’m gonna...” Get more alcohol was how he was going to finish that sentence, but then he
realises he doesn’t have to justify himself to his guy so he just sort of nonverbally slinks away. He
contemplates taking the scarf with him for burning later (really, Jaewon would thank him - it’s for
his own good) but he guesses there’s probably a limit to the damage he can do.

A few moments later, Taehyung is joining him at the table with a wary look on his face. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna just chill? Maybe?” he says. “You’re supposed to be my anchor, not the storm.”

Jeongguk gives him a side glance, and then pops a prawn into his mouth. God, these are nice
prawns. “What does that mean?”

“It means don’t be, like, hostile.”

“That wasn’t hostile--”

“I know you probably didn’t mean to, you know...” No. Jeongguk does not know. “But there’s a
time and a place, and that was neither the time nor the place.”

“Okay.” Another prawn.

“Look, I know that the people here aren’t really your crowd, but you can’t let them get under your
skin - they just have very different worldviews.”

“Jesus, I’m not--anti-rich Taehyung.” He turns around to face him properly now, frowning
slightly. “I don’t like the guy because he’s an asshole, and you know why assholes exist? Because
no one ever claps back to them, so they just get away with shit and then they think they can get
away with more shit. I get that your family are closely tied to these people and they, like, line your
pockets or whatever, but I’m not part of your family, so frankly, I don’t care if the guy’s dad’s the
owner of Microsoft. What does that matter to me? Don’t try and drag me into your little game of
politics.”

“What—" Taehyung is dumbfounded. “Okay firstly, it’s not a politics thing. It’s about being
courteous, you know, manners, Jeon. Also, politics are subjective--”

“Yeah well, basic human rights aren’t, Taehyung. So. Pretty sure people need food and shit - pretty
sure that stuff’s not ‘negotiable’.”

“Okay, seriously, why are you so upset about this?”

Honestly, Jeongguk’s not quite sure. Maybe it wasn’t so much what the guy said than it was how
Taehyung reacted to it: with glazed eyes, with pursed but silent lips. Taehyung, who had made him
read Behind the Beautiful Forevers, who told him all about the Great Depression, and the
impoverished French farming community, and how his great granddad went days at a time without
proper food. Taehyung, who has one foot out of this ‘world’, but one firmly rooted in it as well.

“You’re acting like inequality’s a new thing,” he continues, “and I don’t want to sound insensitive
about it but if you want to change issues like that, arguing isn’t enough. Shooting down people
doesn’t do shit to help those people to Thailand. You need the means, you know?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, face flat. “I don’t know.”

“The people here - they have the resources to change the world. Like, actually change it. And
maybe that realisation is sad, or annoying, or disquieting but at the end of the day, they’re the
people who have the power to actually do stuff. If you want to improve something, you need power
behind intent. You need to play the game, and you need these people on your side.”
Jeongguk frown deepens. “That’s such bullshit. Change doesn’t happen when powerful people do
shit because powerful people don’t want to do shit. Why would they change a system that benefits
them? Out of the goodness of their heart? There aren’t enough good people in the world for that.”

“Jesus, okay Robert Reich.”

One more obscure author reference and Jeongguk might just punch him in the face. “I don’t know
who that guy is, but you know what, if there’s anything I’ve learned from all the stories you’ve
told me, it’s that change happens when revolutionaries happen. Thought you believed the same
thing. Thought you didn’t want to be bogged down by all this shit, that you had a vision, writer boy
– to go live in the mountains or whatever.”

“Reality’s more complicated than that.”

Because you make it. Because you decide it is. “Why?”

“Because, like you said, I am a part of this family so I kind of have to care. I get if you don’t want
to play nice, but don’t make me feel bad for needing to.”

Need, huh? “Yesterday, you talked about these people like they were animals, so what does that
make you? Their feed?”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung scoffs.

“You’re exactly the same as them.”

He clicks his tongue. “If that’s what you think.”

“That is what I think. Cut from the same fucking silk cloth.”

“Seriously, can you--” He pauses, eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment, Jeongguk thinks he’s
maybe going to raise his voice at him. Kind of hopes he does - kind of wants Taehyung to get a
little mad - because at least that would be gritty and honest and raw; at least that would be real. But
instead, he catches himself - smoothes out his face, unknits his eyebrows. Unflustered, always -
must be nice. “Stop with the rich-kid crap, Jeongguk. I’m not a cartoon character - my actions
actually have consequences.” He picks at a piece of fluff on his suit. “Wealth doesn’t equate to an
easy life, and money doesn’t mean everything.”

“Easy to say when you have both,” Jeongguk replies, and okay, at this point he is just goading for
the sake of it; maybe he should stop.

“Okay, you know what? I’m” - Taehyung laughs slightly - “I am not doing this right now. I'm not.
Fuckin’ hell. Let me know when you get off your moral high horse and then maybe we can have
an actual conversation.”

“Sure.”

When Jeongguk goes to grab another champagne flute off the table, Taehyung catches his wrist,
mouth twisting into something mean as he says, “And stop drinking.”

And Jeongguk just stares back at him, levels him with a look of his own because really, two can
play at this dumb game. He shrugs, retracts his hand. “You’re the boss.”

He’s not gonna lie though - he feels pretty shit right now - so of course this is the moment Esmée
waltzes into hall like a fucking Disney princess. She looks really nice - it’s truly, very annoying -
and if Jeongguk was under the false impression that she was female (she is not - she’s a five foot
devil and no one can convince him otherwise) then maybe he’d feel an inkling of attraction towards
her. As it stands though, he’s not about to compliment the literal spawn of Satan so he resigns
himself instead to watching with dead eyes as she glides towards them, smiling. Always fucking
smiling.

Her dress is green, and really, no one should be able to look good in green (no one should be
allowed it: that power is reserved for deities - there should be fucking rules about these things) but
she does; it complements her hair. Actually, the whole look kind of reminds Jeongguk of Fiona - if
Fiona was petite, and lithe, and a fucking menace - and somehow, just like that, Esmée has
managed to ruin Shrek for him. God, he hates her. Well. Hate is a strong word, but she’s a strong
woman; she can handle all the (many) silent insults he’s currently hurling her way.

She curls a hand around Taehyung’s shoulder, going onto her tiptoes to give him a peck on the
cheek in greeting. “Salut, mon amour,” she says, in that breathy, smouldering French voice of hers
that makes Jeongguk’s skin prickle. “Je suis si en retard, désolée. Wouah.” She feels the material
of Taehyung’s suit between her fingers. “Oh, j’adore ça.”

Taehyung laughs slightly. “Thanks. You look nice.”

Jeongguk swears she’s going to say something insufferable like oh, this old thing? but she at least
has the decency to look pleased and not try and hide it. She blushes slightly, tucks a piece of hair
behind her ears, and Jeongguk feels like he should look away because Jesus Christ. “Merci, mon
petit chou.” Then, she’s turning to grin at Jeongguk like they’re buddies and god, he actually can’t
deal with this. “Hi, Jeongguk.”

“Hey,” he replies coolly.

“I think my parents are saying hi to your mum,” Esmée tells Taehyung, her hand on the small of
his back now. “I’m gonna go join them.” It’s a simple enough statement, but somehow what she’s
really saying is come with me.

Taehyung gives her a stiff smile. “Give me a second.” Then his attention’s back on Jeongguk. His
eyes soften slightly as he tells him, “Go sit down. Cool off.” He says it so gently, like he’s a weary
parent giving his child a time out, and the prospect infuriates Jeongguk even more because god, he
doesn’t need to be patronised; he doesn’t need to be ‘calmed down’. He guesses the argument is
over now though so he should probably just act accordingly.

“You’re the boss,” he says again, turning to make his way over to the sofas at the back of the
room. He takes thirteen dough balls for the road.

Feeling pissed off and petulant, he kind of just lounges around - and tries to evade conversations
with this one girl from Taehyung’s middle school who keeps telling him how much she likes his
suit (apparently, “Black’s really your colour, you know?” so Jeongguk guesses that’s a thing he
knows now). Eventually though, the anger dissolves into dejection because things are considerably
less fun now that he’s lost his only friend at this stupid event.

He spends most of his time sulking and trying to drown out conversations because whenever
people have alcohol in their systems, they suddenly think they’re experts in world affairs and if he
hears the term “snowflake” repeated one more time, he’s going to do something he regrets. The
thing that gets him the most though - that’s eating away at him - is how much clingier Esmée gets
when she’s drunk, how much more Taehyung indulges her. She’s been all over him all night -
draping an arm around him, hugging him from behind, pressing herself against his side - and
Taehyng just allows her - lets her move his body around like he’s a mannequin - and all Jeongguk
can do is watch and feel sad about it.

He thinks about what Taehyung said - that he’s not a part of this world - and then thinks about how
Esmée probably is, how she kind of fits in seamlessly.

Honestly, he shouldn’t have come. The idea of the two of them being alone was too painful for him
to accept but spectating them being alone from a distance is even fucking worse and god, he did
this to himself. They disappeared from the hall half an hour ago too - well, Taehyung got
acquiescently dragged out by Esmée’s surprising monster strength - and somehow, that’s even
worse than being able to see them because now they’re having sex, aren’t they? They’re totally
having sex and--wait, no. That’s... probably a big assumption to make: his anxiety speaking. He
really shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions so easily, but somehow, imagining Taehyung doing
shitty things makes him feel a little less shitty about himself - makes the ugly emotions in him feel
a little more warranted.

God, what’s he even doing here at this point? This is a losing battle, and it’s not going to get better
any time soon - there are not enough champagne flutes or baby sandwiches in the world to mend
him now - so maybe he should just leave. Yes. Good idea. Best idea he’s had for the last four
hours in fact. He should skedaddle.

Trying real hard to not feel sorry for himself (pity parties don’t help Jeongguk. They don’t help -
don’t fucking do it) he exits the hall and enters the dimly-lit corridor through one of the side doors.
He needs to grab his coat, doesn’t he? Where the fuck is his coat? The cloakoom... fuck, where’s
the cloakroom? This place is so large, it’s disorientating - an endless maze of doors and annoyingly
lavish carpeting.

Eventually, he finds a section of the building that looks familiar - this must be the way he and
Taehyung arrived earlier that evening, which means the cloakroom is to the right... And that’s
when Jeonguk hears it: the giggling. He recognises the voice instantly (because at this point,
Esmée’s laughter is going to play a prominent role in all his nightmares to come) and kind of wants
to shoot himself in the foot. The universe must hate him. Like genuinely. This shit isn’t funny
anymore. Add salt to the wound? Not even close. Try being submerged in a vat of lemon juice.
Fuck. This. Shit.

Okay, so he guesses he has two options now: a) go inside, get the coat, endure embarrassment that
will probably follow him around for the rest of his life and feel shit all the way back home or b)
leave without the coat, freeze as soon as he goes outside and then feel shit all the way back home.
Honestly, b) is looking promising.

But then he reminds himself that he’s not afraid. That’s the only redeeming quality he has going for
him at this point and if he abandons that, then really, he’s just a less than subpar human being.
Maybe he is a jerk, but maybe he should also just embrace that fact; he likes making people feel
uncomfortable, he loves being righteously angry about shit, and god is he angry right now because
who in their right mind makes out in a cloakroom? There are like a hundred different options in
this goddamn establishment, who the hell do they think they are? Delaying Jeongguk’s escape like
this, making him feel awkward like this. Fuck. Them. So yeah, he’s going to open the door and if
he looks inside and Emsée’s just casually sitting in Taehyung’s lap or something, then maybe a big
part of him will die inside but at least he won’t die a coward. So. Off he goes.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he says as he walks in like he’s a fucking king, because when real bravery
fails you, at least you always have the fake version to fall back on. Also, Emsée is not in his lap, so
he guesses there’s that. They’re just sitting on the floor, laughing and then - after Jeongguk’s
appearance - staring up at him gormlessly like dumb, intoxicated fish. It could’ve been worse, he
tells himself as he tries to fight off the growing mortification - it could’ve been way worse. Okay.
Coat time. Grab the fucking coat.

He does so with deft speed - if he must say so himself - and then he’s turning around to leave.
“Cool - as you were.”

He thinks he hears Taehyung call his name as the door shuts but he is not sticking around long
enough to find out. Then, after a few seconds, he hears the door open again and Taehyung yelling,
“Jeon! Jeon, you leaving already?”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond - just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other - but then he hears
other footsteps behind him and oh god, is Taehyung running? Is Taehyung chasing him? Can’t
anything in his life tonight just be easy for once?

“Hey, Jeon... what the- don’t ignore me, man.”

God, the door’s right here.

“Where the hell are you going?”

By now, Taehyung’s voice is close enough to assume that he’s right behind him so Jeongguk
guesses it can’t be helped: he turns around to face him. “Home,” he says.

Taehyung pouts. “Don’t be dumb, we’ll give you a lift, you can’t walk back to Sunyeong--”

“I’ll get a train.”

Taehyung looks a bit disoriented and confused from the interruption, like he can’t think fast
enough to reorganise his thoughts. “Don’t be dumb,” he says again, slower this time, careful. “Are
you okay? Did... did something happen?”

Jeongguk feels that sharp burst of irritation that he always gets when the problem asks him what
the problem is. Still though, he can’t hate Taehyung for his obliviousness. Jeongguk was a dick to
him earlier and he’s still trying to be nice about things - iron things out - so he guesses he doesn’t
have a legitimate reason to be mad at him besides issues concerning his own inferiority complex.
And his blatant hypocrisy - god.

“Nothing happened,” he says. “I’m just bored so I’m going.” He waves a limp hand as a farewell.
“Have fun.”

“At least stay for the presents part,” he says, rocking on the balls of his feet with that smile of his.
The charming one. The winsome one. The hi-uncle-it’s-been-far-so-long-how-are-you one.
“Wanna see what you got me.”

Jeongguk wonders how many other people he’s used that line on tonight - making everybody feel
special as per fucking usual. And really, he’s just trying to be nice, but when that’s how you treat
everyone, nice stops being a personality and starts being a persona, and it stops meaning anything.

“Bold of you to assume I got you anything, Kim,” he says, coldly.

Taehyung’s eyebrow raises in amusement. “Mean as ever, Jeon.” When Jeongguk doesn’t make a
quip back though, Taehyung’s smile falls. “Okay seriously, you’re acting weird.”

“And you’re not?”

What does that mean?”

“Why don’t you tell me, K-dog?”

A look of irritation flashes across his face. “Jeez,” he frowns. “We’re still on this shit? It’s called
politeness, Jeon.”

“It’s more than politeness - you’re just kissing their asses. Thought you hated all this, the pretence
of it. And I get it - you’re getting connections, playing the game, whatever - but it’s weird seeing
you sell yourself out like this. Feels like I don’t even know you.”

And all of a sudden, Taehyung’s expression changes completely - his eyes narrow. Shock, maybe?
Confusion? “What the fuck?” Nope. Anger. Nice, now they’re both angry, and conversations
between two angry people are always reasonable ones, said no one ever.

“I’m the same I’ve always been, and if having other friends makes you think differently then yeah,
maybe you don’t know me that well.” Okay. Ouch. “And I’m not obliged to tell you my whole life
story, Jesus. Stop acting like you’re entitled to knowing everything, Jeon - you’re not that special.”

Yeah, lemon juice vat all the way. All the sting, all the feels, all the hurt, all of it - that’s what
Jeongguk is experiencing right now. And he doesn’t even have the fire in him to clap back because
he’s not even angry anymore - just feels defeated and trampled on. He just wants to crawl into his
bed and cry.

“Glad we cleared that up.” Jeongguk pulls both his arms through his coat. His hands itch for the
exit. “Have fun fucking Esmée.”

And then he leaves.

The train journey back to Sunyeong is faster than driving - one hour instead of two - but god, does
that hour drag.

He must look like such a state right now - red face and wet eyes and dressed up like he could’ve
been an extra in a movie from the 20s. There’s only one other person in the same carriage as him -
a woman with these massive yellow headphones on - and whenever she sneaks a glance at him, she
looks as alarmed as she does confused; Jeongguk feels kind of bad for her. He’s trying to cry as
silently as he can, but that’s hard to maintain when he starts sniffing because small sniffs aren’t
really sufficient - his nose feels all blocked and stuffy and gross, and he feels gross, and everything
about him right now is just gross.

He should go back and shower or something. Or go to sleep forever and never wake up. Wait, no.
Shower. That’s--that’s the sensible option.

Except he really doesn’t want to go back to the apartment right now. The others will be asleep, and
it’ll just be him alone with his thoughts - thoughts about all the stupid shit he said tonight, and
Taehyung and Esmée being alone together, and the fact that there are people in this world with
such difficult lives and he’s never going to be able to do anything meaningful enough to make a
difference to that, and god, why does anyone even bother doing anything, ever? Seriously? What’s
the point of any of this and--okay, so now he’s in existential territory. That’s not... great.

So it’s decided: he really can’t be alone tonight.

And that’s how he ends up outside Seokjin and Namjoon’s apartment, repeatedly pressing the
 doorbell and internally praying that despite the fact that it’s about one in the morning, they’ll
somehow be awake. They are.

Seokjin’s initial reaction when he opens the door is a surprised little pout. “Erm,” he says.

“Hey,” Jeongguk replies.

“Hi, squirt.”

“Hi...” He balls up his fists slightly as he bites his lip. Looks down at the floor. “I, erm... I know
you said not to come crying...”

Seokjin sighs a little, but his eyes soften all the same. “I lied,” he says, taking Jeongguk’s hand into
his own. He squeezes it. “Come in. Cry buckets.”

Chapter End Notes

I promise chapter 10 will be a happy one (our lil Guk needs a lil win in his life - bless
his lil heart).
 Chapter Ten
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Look at him,” Seokjin says, after he’s woken up Namjoon to witness the situation. Jeongguk
stands awkwardly beside him, arms hanging limply by his side because he doesn’t really know
what to do with them. “Look what he did to our baby.”

The other boy rubs his eyes in confusion as his mind slowly wakes up. “Oh god,” he says,
registering Jeongguk’s blotchy face. He squints slightly. “Is this gonna need ice cream?”

“It’s gonna need more - I’m making bibimbap.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk blurts out, because even in his misery, he’s a nuisance to them, causing
inconveniences for them. God, how does anyone tolerate him?

“Don’t be stupid, brat,” Seokjin sighs. “Go sit on the sofa.”

“Okay.” Sniffing, he shuffles slowly towards the living room.

He sits motionless on the couch as Seokjin whips out a knife and starts animatedly hacking at
vegetables. Usually, he’d have more grace about it, but Jeongguk figures he’s being angry for him
because he senses Jeongguk is currently lacking the willpower to be angry for himself. It’s sweet,
in a way. Still though, he’s making a shiitake mushroom massacre on the chopping board right
now and it’s not a pretty sight. By the time he gets to the lettuce, he’s at least calmed down a bit,
movements less erratic and murderous. Jeongguk listens to the gentle hiss of oil as he fries the egg.
Then he’s adding everything to a bowl, and plopping it on Jeongguk’s lap.

“Thank you,” he mumbles when Seokjin hands him chopsticks.

He probably sounds way too meek for Seokjin’s liking because he gets a weird look in return.
“Don’t be polite,” he says, carding his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair. “It’s creeping me out.”

“Sorry,” he replies, glum.

Seokjin sighs. “Eat your rice, squirt.”

He nestles on one side of him, and after finally peeling himself from his bed, Namjoon comes and
sits down on the other. They eye him, quiet and curious, as he eats and somehow the attention just
makes his bottom lip tremble a little harder, makes his chest pang a little more.

“You okay?” Namjoon asks, his wide, flat palm coming up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m...” He takes another mouthful of zucchini, tries to force it down. “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m
just...” He shuts his eyes again - tight - wills himself not to cry, because crying is failure, because
crying means he cares, and he’s not about to give Taehyung the satisfaction of making him cry,
what the hell. Fuck him. Seriously - fuck him.

Seokjin silently offers him a box of tissues, and that’s when Jeongguk realises the tears have come
again, springing up in the corner of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks like little rivers he can’t
control. He takes one from him, feeling grateful and absolutely mortified at the same time as he
blows his nose. He crumples it into a dejected ball, and then slumps against the sofa and sobs some
more.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I know I’m ugly when I cry.”

“You are,” Namjoon replies.

“Blubbering whale,” Seokjin affirms.

“God, I’m--bawling here. At least try.” He doesn’t say it with any sting though because he knows
they’re doing it for him. If they matched his seriousness, Jeongguk would probably just break
down even harder. “Would a hug be too much?”

They both lean closer, wrapping their arms around him and crushing him in a tight joint hug, and
Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s ever felt more loved in his life. Always in his corner: world’s best
dads, honestly.

“Jesus, I was” - he squawks slightly as Seokjin squeezes a little harder - “I was kidding. Get the
fuck off me.”

After a while though, he stops trying to fight them, just lets them rearrange his body so his head is
on Namjoon’s shoulder. He hiccups slightly. “Thank you,” he says.

“What for?”

“Dunno. Being there for me, I guess. I appreciate you guys.”

Seokjin looks at him in mock shock, and then back at Namjoon. “Did he just say that
unprompted?”

Namjoon purses his lips in a smile that’s more like a grimace as he tugs Jeongguk closer to him.
“He really broke you, huh,” he murmurs.

“That’s your reaction when I’m nice to you for once?” Jeongguk says, laughing slightly as he
wipes at the tears. “You guys must have such a low bar for the shit you’ll put up with.”

Seokjin snorts, pinches his thigh. “Oh yeah, and whose fault is that?” Jeongguk feigns innocence:
nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

“So let me get this straight,” Seokjin says, once Jeongguk has explained the tragic situation that is
his life currently. “He has a girlfriend.”

“No. Well... no, not like-- it’s more like--”

“Drop him.”

“Seokjin,” Namjoon says warningly.

“What? He’s not worth the trouble.” He turns to Jeongguk. “Are they going out?”

“No, that’s why it’s... weird. I don’t know.”

“Did they go out before though?”

“I mean, yeah--”
“Drop him.”

“Seokjin.”

“But they were like thirteen so... I don’t know if that counts.”

“If they’re still flirting now, then it counts. People bringing baggage into a relationship is the last
thing you want - you don’t deserve anything less than one hundred percent commitment. I say drop
him.”

“Yeah but like... I don’t know. It’s not like we were going out - he doesn’t owe me anything, you
know - so I feel like it’s not even my place to be mad... in a way. Now it’s just...”

Seokjin sighs. “Messy.”

“Yeah...”

He doesn’t say I told you so, because he would never say that - too much of an angel to kick
Jeongguk down when he’s already on the ground - but he still feels the sentiment when Seokjin
cards a hand through his hair, when he looks down at him with a sadness that makes tears start
welling in Jeongguk’s eyes again. When things go to shit...

“Well, if he likes you, he has a pretty funny way of showing it,” he accuses. “You shouldn’t have to
deal with that shit - he’s fucking inconsistent.”

“He’s insecure,” Namjoon counters. “But yeah, he doesn’t get to take that out on you,” he adds,
giving Jeongguk a light kiss on the forehead, and it’s so unnecessary and it makes him squirm, but
he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“Exactly,” Seokjin says, nodding his head in a scarily aggressive way. “He doesn’t get to just toy
around with you--”

“Jesus.” Seriously? “He’s not ‘toying’ around with anything - he’s not mean, he’s just--”

“Listen to yourself: you’re making excuses for him. He upset you, and you’re making excuses for
him.” Seokjin runs his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair again, more impatient. “I’ve never seen you
so hung up over someone, and it would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad. Look at you - you’re sad.
He made you sad. And you’re defending him. You have to realise that there’s a part of that that’s a
little fucked, Guk.” When Jeongguk doesn’t say anything back in response, he just sighs. “Okay,”
he says. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Jeongguk asks, wary.

“Just give.”

Jeongguk gingerly fishes it out of his coat pocket and hands it over to Seokjin, who enters his
passcode and starts punching at the screen. “Okay seriously, what are you doing?”

Seokjin dangles it in front of his face. “Block his number,” he instructs.

Jeongguk just about stops himself from laughing. “Bit far, isn’t it?” he says.

“No. Do it.”

“Hyung.” He gives him a dubious glance. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll get over it--”
“I know you will, and this will help. C’mon, Guk.”

“But...”

Seokjin’s tone is sympathetic and exhausted. “But what?” he asks.

Jeongguk closes his eyes. “But I’m in love,” he whispers, and he hates how pathetic he sounds:
sulky and immature and childish.

“Oh, honey,” Seokjin says, and Jeongguk knows that he wants Jeongguk to look up at him but he
can’t bring himself to - can’t make himself open his eyes - because he doesn’t want to see the way
Seokjin’s looking back at him, doesn’t even want to imagine it.

He sits there limp, letting Namjoon cradle him, gently rocking, and then Namjoon’s saying, so
quietly that Jeongguk almost doesn’t hear him: “No you’re not.” And for a moment, something
intense burns up in Jeongguk’s chest - this sharp, stabbing pain - but he can’t really tell what it is.
Agreement? Anger? God, he doesn’t even know anymore. But then the sensation subsides and he’s
left feeling miserably hollowed out - emptied.

“Love doesn’t make you cry like this,” Namjoon says, voice so soft, as if he isn’t driving an arrow
straight through Jeongguk’s heart. “Obsession does.”

Which is true maybe, but really, it hurts to have his emotions discredited like that. Sure, he’s
young, but he's not stupid; he knows what he feels for someone, he knows what he has for them.

When he finally opens his eyes again, Seokjin’s still shaking the phone screen in his face, so he
slowly takes it out of his hands and blocks Taehyung’s number. “There,” he says, feeling like
crying all over again. “Done. When do I start feeling better then?”

“Eh,” Seokjin says, snorting slightly. “Give it time.”

“Sure.” Jeongguk sighs a little, rubbing at his puffy eyes. Who knew being emotional could be so
draining? Eugh - he wants to go back to normal. “Can’t believe you guys graduate this year,” he
murmurs. “What am I gonna do without you? How am I gonna handle this whole life thing?”

“You won’t,” Namjoon says.

Seokjin clucks in agreement: “Things are only going to get harder from here on out.”

Jeongguk groans, burying his face deeper into Namjoon’s pyjama shirt. “I’ve been ill-equipped,”
he protests. “I blame you guys - you’ve sheltered me too much from my problems.”

“Dunno, you’re a tough cookie,” Namjoon says. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Barely,” Seokjin adds, as an extra sprinkling of reassurance. Then, his hand is coming down to
Jeongguk’s suit; he’d forgotten he was still wearing it. “Huh,” he says, feeling the texture of the
fabric between his fingers. Well, it’s more like heavy petting - he never was one to grope with
subtlety. “This is fucking nice.”

“Thanks,” Jeongguk mumbles. “He got it for me.”

His expression sours immediately. “Nevermind,” he says. “We’re burning it.”

They do.
During the winter holidays, Seokjin makes an (unnecessarily large) bonfire, and they slowly watch
as the gold embroidery turns into char and wisps of white smoke. Honestly, it’s a huge waste of
Italian wool - Jeongguk thinks he would’ve been better off just keeping it, it’s not like Taehyung’s
spirit lives in the sleeve cuff - but when Seokjin is adamant about something, he’s not to be
reckoned with.

“This is so bad for the environment,” Namjoon says, in that contemplative, musing voice of his
that somehow manages to make judgemental things never sound judgemental.

“It’s allowed,” Seokjin replies, his reasoning being: “It’s symbolic.”

“The carbon dioxide is symbolic?” Jeongguk asks, with a scrunch of his nose.

“Shut up, squirt.”

Besides that little burst of combustive activity, Jeongguk’s Christmas is still pretty shit. He just
feels sad all the time, and then angry about being sad because really - after everything that’s
happened at this point - he shouldn’t care anymore. Or, at the very least, he should just feel
irritated, or frustrated, not sad. But trying to force yourself happy is kind of counterintuitive, and
failing only makes him feel more crap about himself.

He spends most of December in his room, brooding and waiting (im)patiently for all the emotions
to subside so he can pick himself up again and move on with his life. It doesn’t work, and really,
he’s decided that if there is a God, it hates him (which, fair enough, there are probably reasons for
that) because nothing ever really goes his way. The only times he kind of feels himself again are
when he’s talking with his brother, or when Namjoon and Seokjin drag him out to do something,
when they try and help him escape what’s going on in his head. He knows he’s probably worrying
them - feels bad for it after everything they’ve done for him - but it’s hard to voluntarily spend time
with people when all he wants to do is curl up and be idle for the whole day. When all he wants to
do is disappear.

Maybe the only good thing that’s come out of spending so much time alone with his own thoughts
is that he’s starting to organise them a little bit more - starting to shift through and sort them.
Retrospection is a beautiful thing really, and the more he replays scenes in his head, the more he
realises how stupid he was. About everything. God. He wasn’t in love - he liked the idea of being
in love. Liked the idea of being in love with a guy like Taehyung - a romantic, a talker, a charmer.
Someone who could make his heartbeat triple, and then make it stop, and then make it start up
even faster - someone with a little control over him, a little challenge to them - and it was cute until
it wasn’t. Until it just got painful. Because really, it’s not healthy being that smitten over someone -
wanting them to want you back that badly. It’s not worth it. Not cute in the fucking slighest, god.

And really, it’s silly how much energy he spent hating Esmée, as if it was a race between the two
of them, when in reality, it had only ever been a race against himself because isn’t that all life is,
really - a competition with yourself. Waking up and just trying to be a little less shit then you were
yesterday - a little smarter, a little kinder. And he should’ve just been focusing on that - on being
the best version of himself that he could be - instead of detesting her for being better, instead of
feeling like he had to one-up everyone else he felt threatened by. Jesus. All this time, he’d been
fighting the wrong person, and for what? So he could feel dejected and crumpled up and thrown
away at the end of it all? Fuck that. What the actual hell - fuck that. Imagine attaching your sense
of self worth to the opinion of one person.

What the hell is wrong with him?

But the thing that angers him the most - that cuts the deepest - is that despite this, despite knowing
all this, and understanding all this, and realising all this, he still feels sad. He feels so fucking sad.
Because really, knowing and believing are two different things and it doesn’t matter if he knows
that Taehyung is confusing, and cryptic, and not worth it - a part of him still likes him. Still wants
his hands on him, and really, that’s the pathetic bit isn’t it? Not being able to let go of something
you know you probably should let go of.

So yeah: Jeongguk is sad. He is for a week, and then two, and then three, and then a month, and
then... well, he’s kind of not anymore, really. He can’t pinpoint when it happens - when he stops
thinking so hard about things - but slowly, with Seokjin’s persistent nagging, and swimming with
his brother, and laughing with Namjoon, things get better and he gets better, and he starts
sophomore year at Sunyeong sort of not feeling shit about himself, so that’s ideal.

Well. He’s still kind of terrified, mostly at the prospect of bumping into Taehyung - in a corridor,
or at the shops, or round the corner of a street - because god, he can’t deal with that at the moment,
with seeing him. But one day he will be able to - he’ll be okay - so it’s fine because in the long run,
everything is: time moves on. He rents a place with Yugeyom this year, he picks up more shifts at
Park’s, he goes to the pool, and slowly, he kind of starts to forget about everything. Starts to care a
little less. Because time moves on, and life goes on, and really, he’s only nineteen so why the fuck
is he hung up over some guy he happened to sleep with? Why would anyone be?

For the first time since December, he kind of feels good again - feels a little more sure of
everything, of himself - and honestly, isn’t that a beautiful thing?

It’s May, and he’s walking down the corridors of the maths department when he gets a call from
Yoongi, which is a pleasant surprise because he hasn’t really talked to him since last year, and
Jeongguk kind of misses him and his dry humour and his death threats. Kind of misses all of them
really. It sucks that when he distanced himself, he didn’t lose one friend - he lost four - but it’s
sweet that Yoongi thought to contact him after all these months.

He picks up the phone. “Hiya.”

“Hey.” And Jeongguk’s blood runs cold, because this isn’t Yoongi, this is-- “Wait, Jeon, don’t
hang up--”

Jeongguk hangs up. And then he throws his phone down the stairs. Then he curses real loud
because why the fuck did he throw his phone down the stairs? It was probably just the shock of it -
hearing that voice again for the first time in such a long time made something flare up in him for a
moment: pure, unadulterated anger. And somehow, he’s angry at himself for being angry because
Taehyung shouldn’t get to have that over him - Taeyung doesn’t get to make him feel anything
anymore. Fuck him.

Jeongguk is neutral, and calm, and thinking happy thoughts, and he doesn’t get to change that.

Looking despondent and pathetic at the bottom of the stairs (and possibly cracked... fuck, he really
hopes it’s not cracked), his phone screen lights up again (okay, not cracked - all good).
Marshmallow hyung flashes on the screen, and Jeongguk tries to prepare himself for the next
ambush. Well. Maybe not, because there’s always the possibility that he just doesn’t pick the call
at all - it’s not like he owes Taehyung that, he doesn’t owe Taehyung a goddamn thing - but there’s
a part of him that kind of wants to, a little urge itching at the back of his mind. What message does
that send though, if he does? What would Taehyung think and--wait. That doesn’t matter. That
genuinely doesn’t matter - who the fuck cares what Taehyung thinks? He’s doing this for himself -
because he wants to - because he wants an explanation, and also maybe an excuse to yell at him a
little (a lot - he wants to yell at him a lot) so perhaps he should stop trying to view things through
the lens of anyone other than himself.

He bounds down the stairs - two steps at a time, determined - picks up the phone, and presses the
Accept button as aggressively as he can. And then: “You have one minute. Go.”

“Erm...” Taehyung honestly sounds a little scared. Good. “I don’t really think one will be enough-
-”

“Too bad. Fifty-five seconds now: make ‘em count, Kim.”

“Can we... I mean, I don’t want to do this over the phone...” Taehyung just kind of trails off, as if
Jeongguk will just fill in the blanks for him. God - always assuming he can read minds.

“Hmm?”

“Erm... can we...”

Fuckin’ hell. “Can we...?”

“Meet up? Somewhere? It’s--I mean, only if you want to. Obviously--I’m not...” There’s a pause,
and then a little sigh. “Can we talk?”

“We’re talking now, Kim.”

“Yeah, but I... it’ll mean more. In person.”

“Won’t mean anything to me.”

“Okay...” Taehyung clicks his tongue for a moment. “Erm, yeah. Fair enough.”

God, he sounds so hesitant and really, Jeongguk shouldn’t say it - shouldn’t help him out - but:
“Time and place.”

“Huh?”

“Give me a time and a place, Kim. God, shit shouldn’t be hard.”

“Uhm. Oh. Okay. Err. Banana Tree? Saturday? Are you--you’re free Saturday, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Noon?”

“Sure.”

“Okay...” There’s a tentative moment of silence, and then Taehyung’s asking, equally as
tentatively, “Is that a... yes?”

“It’s an ‘I’ll think about it’,” Jeongguk replies. “Give Yoongi hyung his phone back before he gets
angry.” And then he hangs up.

“Okay, so what are we thinking?” Jeongguk says after he’s addressed his executive board of
directors, because they came up from Busan to visit him this weekend, and at this point, every
decision he makes in life has to be run past them.

“No,” Seokjin says, at the same time Namjoon says, “Sure.” They both share a look.

Jeongguk sighs in defeat, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re useless,” he declares.

“No, Joon is,” Seokjin mutters. “Are you--are you kidding me, Guk? You’re just gonna - what - let
him back into your life?”

Jeongguk blinks. Twice. “I mean... I’m getting coffee with the guy, that’s hardly...” He pulls a
face. “Don’t think that equates to the same thing, really.”

“Exactly,” Namjoon says, to which Seokjin replies, “Shut the fuck up - who asked?”

“I think it’ll be good,” Namjoon adds. “For closure.”

“Agreed. Thank you, hyung.”

Seokjin still seems incredibly unconvinced. “God, closure’s just one of those buzzwords that
doesn’t actually mean anything. You don’t need answers from him, Guk - you don’t need anything
for him. He’s just doing this so he can feel better about himself - say his piece and move on with
his life.”

“But don’t I need to do the same?”

“Yeah, but you don’t owe that to him. It’s--” He holds his hands up defensively. “I mean, that’s
just my opinion... is all.”

“Thank you, Jin hyung,” Jeongguk says, with a solemn nod of his head. “I do value your opinion.”

“At least sound sincere about it. Brat.” He folds his arms in a declaration of war. “You don’t
deserve me,” he says, “none of you do.”

“Oh?” Jeongguk replies, and Seokjin’s arms tighten harder around him.

“Seriously,” he says. “We’re giving the bastard a second chance?”

“Not we,” Namjoon says calmly. “Jeongguk.” Jeongguk can’t imagine how hard his job must be
sometimes: sure, Seokjin has to deal with him, but Namjoon has to deal with the both of them. Poor
guy must have the patience of a saint.

“Emotional Management Team,” Seokjin reminds him. “We’re all involved now.”

“That’s a scary thought,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“Yeah - for him. I’m gonna stick my foot so far up his ass that--”

“Don’t finish the sentence, hyung. Don’t incriminate yourself.”

“Just don’t understand why you’d ask for my advice in the first place if you’re not going to follow
it,” Seokjin grumbles. Then, he’s asking, “Should we tag along?” God, how mortifying. “Just to,
you know...”

“What?”

He shrugs, gestures vaguely in the air with a hand. “You know...”

Jeongguk’s eyes crinkle up in amusement. “No, hyung. I don’t.”

“Get rid of a body, hide the evidence - I don’t know. We’re versatile.” Namjoon’s eyes practically
make a grinding sound as they roll around in his sockets.

Jeongguk raises a single eyebrow. “Thanks. If it gets to that point, I’ll request backup.” He gives
him a crooked grin. “But I'll be fine - I can handle myself.”

“Yeah.” Seokjin sighs (seeming suspiciously disappointed) as he leans back in his chair. “Yeah, I
know you can.” And for once, it actually sounds like he believes it.

Jeongguk feels a little apprehensive as he approaches the café. He’s not sure why - it’s not like he
has anything at stake here: he’s just going to listen to what Taehyung has to say, and get his
closure, and walk away from all of it - but as he gets closer and closer to the door, he feels a little
anxious all the same. About seeing him.

It takes him a while to even spot Taehyung, but he does eventually, sitting at a table in the corner
on his phone. He’s wearing a forest green flannel shirt and jeans, and he looks crisp as always -
neat and tidy and effortless. He looks up from his screen and stares at the entrance for a fleeting
moment. Looks back down. Shoots his gaze back up again - sharply - when he realises Jeongguk’s
standing there. Goes to stand up himself, hand on the table as his legs hike up, but then he
remembers where he is and sits back down again, looking embarrassed as he does so, muttering
something to himself. Really, the whole thing is almost enough to make Jeongguk smile - the
stupidity of it all. Almost, because he catches himself, because he’s already decided that fuck you is
going to be his mantra for this whole meeting, so really, smiles have no place here. Banana Tree is
where smiles go to die.

He walks up to the table and just stands in front of it - doesn’t do anything else - because he wants
Taehyung to be the first person to extend a greeting.

“Hi,” Taehyung says. “You look good.”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk frowns, because Jesus. “Thanks?”

“No, I mean...” Taehyung looks torn between clearing his throat and rolling his eyes. “Healthy.
You know, like... not--god, okay. That’s... whatever, doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

Jeongguk contemplates standing there a little longer - to make him feel a bit uncomfortable, make
him sweat a little - but honestly, it was a lengthy walk; he kind of just wants to sit.

“Okay, so I took the liberty of ordering us drinks because I wasn’t sure when you were gonna get
here. Well, I wasn’t sure if you were coming at all - you didn’t really confirm... anyway, err, I got
you a cappuccino because I figured everyone likes those? Basically? I don’t know, guess you
prefer tea to coffee, right? Should’ve, like, picked a different place, maybe...”

“You ramble when you’re nervous,” Jeongguk notes.

Taehyung pauses for a moment. “I...” He clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks for, erm,
pointing that out.”

Jeongguk leans back in his chair. “No worries.”

“Um. So.”
“So...”

Taehyung sighs, runs a hand through his hair for a few seconds. “I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jeongguk scoffs. “What for? Elaborate.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, and then closes it, and then opens it again. “You know,” he says, eyes
narrow, “you’re making this kind of hard--”

“Elaborate.”

“Err. Okay.” Taehyung slides the cappuccino towards him (which Jeongguk takes with a face of
zero emotion - god, he loves playing bad cop) and then has a little sip of his own drink. “So,” he
says again, and Jeongguk fears that this is going to take way longer than he’d originally thought it
would. “You blocked my number, which kind of confused me, but upon further reflection--”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk says. “Turn off your writer’s mode.”

For a brief moment, a flicker of a smile appears on Taehyung’s face, which Jeongguk kind of hates
because that wasn’t meant to be banter or friendly. God, whatever. He can read into things how he
wants. “Upon further reflection,” Taehyung repeats, and Jeongguk considers kicking him hard in
the shins, “I realised I was kind of a dick that night.”

“Kind of?”

“A lot. I was very much a dick. We’ve already established, Jeon - I’m very, very sorry. Seriously.
In case I didn’t convince you the first time: sorry.”

“No need to be sarcastic about it.”

Taehyung eyes widen suddenly. “I wasn’t--”

“Kidding,” Jeongguk says, because maybe he should be putting a limit on how mean he’s going to
be. “It’s chill, I was kidding.”

For a few seconds, Taehyung doesn’t really know what to say - just kind of blinks at him owlishly -
and then he’s settling back into his seat, somehow looking put at ease and petrified at the same
time. “Right,” he says. “Okay. So I wanted to apologise for my behaviour... that night.” He’s
pausing in between words like he’s going to be interrupted at any second. It’s as funny as it is sad,
and okay - maybe Jeongguk should tone down his hostility just the tiniest bit. “I was probably
sending confusing signals, and it wasn’t fair of me to assume you knew where I was coming from,
I was being...” He stops for a moment - like he doesn’t really know where to go from there - and
then tries again:

“Okay, so I guess for someone who talks a lot of shit about their family - about the people they
keep company with - I’m pretty defensive of them, but...” He gives a low grunt, bites his lip like
he’s fed up with himself. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “I--this is probably going to be a lot of
stopping and starting - I don’t really know how to phrase this shit.”

“It’s chill,” Jeongguk says, putting his hands in his pocket.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, nodding slowly, but he still sounds kind of hesitant, and honestly,
Jeongguk kind of wants him to go back to being sure of himself for a moment - confident - only
because it would make the whole hating thing a lot easier. God, he’s not here to sympathise with
the guy. “They’re not monsters... my family, I mean. I do love them - in maybe a warped kind of
way, but still. I’ve learned a lot from them, and I’m who I am today because of them, but I guess
I’ve just seen all the ugly parts of them too so I try to distance myself from it because I don’t
wanna think I’m like that too... in a way. Even though I probably am. Maybe that’s what scares me,
I dunno - that I’d like to think I’m different, but in reality I’m really not, and I just have to live with
that because I’m too afraid to change it and--”

He pauses for a minute, gives his head a surprised little shake at how fast he’s talking. Reigns
himself in again - always trying to save face. “Shit,” he says. “I feel like none of what I’m saying is
making any sense, what the hell - I’m not even doing this in, like, a cohesive order. Should’ve
written this shit down or something, or made bullet points...”

“Don’t want bullet points, Kim,” Jeongguk tells him, voice low, because he really doesn’t. He
doesn’t need another performance - he wants Taehyung to break down for him a little, wants to
shake him until the words tumble loose from his mouth, wants him to be honest; they owe that
much to each other.

“Right.” He takes another sip of his coffee, and even though his face is calm, the tips of his fingers
are shaking slightly. “So. My family has a lot of interesting people in it. Questionable morals
maybe, but they’re interesting, and I feel like I’ve always viewed them as these exotic animals that
exist in their own little world, and I never really felt like I was a part of that world because, I
dunno... I wasn’t zany enough, I guess? Or, like, eccentric. Or cutthroat. I was just kind of a kid no
one paid any attention to, and I think I got around it by just being kind of agreeable and pleasant
and shit. That’s the only way I felt like I could fit into everything - if I just got along with everyone
- because I guess” - he draws in a shaky breath - “and this is going to sound super silly, possibly,
but... if I’m not the guy that everyone likes then who am I... you know?”

“No clue, Kim. A real person, maybe?”

“Eugh.” He takes another sip of his coffee, like he’s trying to hide his vulnerability in a gulp and
bury it inside his belly. “God forbid.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk clucks. “It’s a scary concept.”

“Yeah...” He’s smiling slightly as he wipes at the corner of his mouth, but it’s a sad one.

“So what, we’re dissecting your childhood now?”

He laughs at that. “Erm... nah. No. Sorry. Not relevant.”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Kind of relevant.”

“Wow. Now you really do sound like a therapist, Jeon.”

“What can I say?” He has his first taste of the cappuccino, which is a little lukewarm now, but not
terrible. “My professionalism improved.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Erm, anyway. Yeah, I’m sorry if it felt like I switched up on
you that night. It was more that I didn’t want to cause a scene - I couldn’t be bothered for that shit,
and I didn’t want to fight you, you know? You’re a cool guy, Jeon.”

“Sure,” Jeongguk says. “Pepper in the compliments - earn yourself some brownie points.”

“No, I mean” - his eyes slant slightly as he smiles, as he shakes his head in that boyish, careless
way of his - “I just admire you, in a way.”
Huh. “Yeah? How so?”

“Dunno. You know the people in your life that you actually care about, and you only worry about
doing right by them. You don’t have different personalities around different people. You’re just...
you. You’re so sure of yourself.” And god, he couldn’t be more wrong. But Jeongguk guesses that
he’s getting there - gradually.

“You are too,” he says.

Taehyung snorts. “I... pretend I am. I’m pretending all the fucking time. I pretend I’m the perfect
son to my parents, and I pretend I’m the perfect guy to Esmée, and to everyone else, I pretend I’m
just this sexy, dashing, elusive... fuck, I don’t even know. And for what? So that I can be liked by
people I don’t even like? By people who don’t even know me? Fuck...”

He sighs, one that’s deep and loaded and weighed down by self-loathing. “I just feel like I’m
playing a role all the time, you know? It’s exhausting. But I only have myself to blame, and I’m
also way too scared to have it any other way so... I don’t know.”

He looks up at Jeongguk again. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been able to be myself around.
Like, truly. All of it. Sans filtre. Before you... I was just so lonely. I’m still lonely. All the fucking
time. Even when I’m surrounded by people, I’m lonely. It’s so pathetic.”

Jeongguk nearly reaches a hand out to brush away a tear that rolls down his cheek, but he stops
himself at the last second because that would be a little too friendly - a little too much. He doesn’t
really know what to say. “Taehyung--”

“I’m pathetic.” His voice is getting higher-pitched now, more distressed. “Sometimes, I just... I
really hate myself.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Don’t say that.”

Taehyung laughs slightly. “What, the truth?”

“Jesus, Tae...” Jeongguk reaches out to grab a tissue from the dispenser on the table surface and
hands it over to him. There: a clinical-enough gesture. He returns his hands to his pockets and
resists the urge to hug him. “Seriously, don’t say shit like that, you’re--” He gives his head a slight
shake. “For what it’s worth, I don’t hate you. Think you’re a pretty cool dude.”

Taehyung snorts despite everything. “Thanks,” he says. His voice is quiet and hollow, but at least
he’s not crying anymore so that’s something. Then, his eyes are widening slightly. “Eugh,” he
says, dabbing at them with the tissue. “Sorry, that was a bit...” He crumples it up and places it on
the table, looks at it anxiously. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“No, it’s--” Jeongguk shrugs. “You should be honest like that more often - maybe you should cry
more.”

Taehyung huffs slightly. “Kinda fucked, Jeon.”

“Eh. Aren’t we all?”

“Sure...” Taehyung takes another long, slow sip of his drink before clearing his throat slightly. “I
guess, that night... when you said you felt like you didn’t know me, it just hit hard. Because you’re
the only one I felt like I could open up to about anything. Dunno, I guess, with everyone else, I just
feel like such a fucking fraud all the time. Didn’t want you seeing me that way.”
“I don’t,” Jeongguk says firmly, because he doesn’t. Taehyung isn’t a bad guy. Indecisive, maybe -
people pleasing - but he’s not a dick. He’s just a little confused, and isn’t everyone at some stage in
their life? Just a little lost. “‘M sorry. It was dumb. I’m dumb.”

“I’m dumb,” Taehyung counters. He leans forward on his elbows slightly, fringe sweeping over his
eyes, and Jeongguk feels the urge to brush the hair away with his fingers. God, okay; his hands are
definitely staying inside his pockets. “You’re amazing,” Taehyung continues, with a sigh. “I feel
undeserving of you. All the time. Like it’s just a matter of time before you find someone who’s as
fierce as you are, who’s better than me.”

Jeongguk feels an immovable lump forming in his throat at the words. “I’m not... fierce. And I
don’t always have my shit together. I’m just...” He pauses for a moment, because really, this isn’t
what they’re here to do - they’re not here to open up and vent and profess shit. Eugh, Taehyung’s
always making things harder than they have to be. “I’ve never been insecure around anyone, but
with you, everything makes me feel insecure.”

The older boy frowns slightly in surprise. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s erm... it’s not your fault. It’s a me thing. Well, it’s a me-around-you thing, I don’t know. I
just always want to be the best all the time, I guess. Always want to keep up. And whenever you
call me perfect... I just keep thinking I’m not. Like, I’m really not. And I know you mean well, but
whenever you build me up, I just get more scared that you’ll meet someone else who’s even more
perfect, you know, and then...” He just trails off, shrugs with a smile, because honestly, this whole
honesty thing is harder than he thought it would be. It’s always simple enough until it’s your turn.

“Also,” he says. “I mean, it takes two to argue, it’s not like I wasn’t being a bit...” He shrugs again,
looks down at the table. “I was being a bit of a dick too - so there - it’s fine. I mean, not as much as
you. You were like nine inches, I was five at best--”

“Jesus,” Taehyung says, with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Not a competition, Jeon.”

“No,” Jeongguk agrees, softly. It’s not. Nothing is. “I’m just saying - takes two to fight. So yeah. I
said some dumb shit. I was bitter I guess, and jealous a little. My head wasn’t in the right place. We
both kinda suck. Think that’s a good way to conclude.”

Taehyung huffs a little. “Yeah...”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue slightly. “Cool.”

“Uh huh...”

“Sure.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to retaliate, but then he closes it again and just smiles - squinty and
boxy and cute - and Jeongguk feels his pulse quicken just that little bit, and god, he’s going to have
to guard his heart or something (like, with iron) because this is how they got into this fucking mess
in the first place: putting each other on pedestals that neither of them had asked for. Taehyung’s
cool, but he isn’t the fucking sun. He’s just lonely, and being with Jeongguk made him feel less so,
but it was a fantasy he’d constructed for himself because Jeongguk isn’t perfect, or impenetrable, or
a tool that Taehyung can just put down and pick back up again when he feels like it - some coping
mechanism when he’s struggling with self-image. That’s not a relationship - it’s a transaction - and
really, it was only a matter of time before that illusion shattered. Before both of theirs did.

Jeongguk is not his escapism, and Taehyung is not his validation. Maybe they can make each other
happier, but they can’t make each other happy - the only person who can do that for themselves is
themselves - and they were naive to think any differently.

“Sorry,” Taehyung says for the upteenth time as he takes another sip of his drink. “I’m--this was
supposed to be an apology, and now I’m just offloading on you, and really, you don’t deserve any
of this shit and I’m so sorry, but you’re also the only one I feel like I can tell any of this too, so do
you want to, like... indulge me a little more? Maybe?”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften slightly; he takes his hands out his pockets. “Sure, Kim,” he says.

“You can tell me if I’m talking too much.”

And despite everything, despite the promise he’d made to himself, Jeongguk finds himself smiling
a little because it’s kind of comforting how little things have changed; he’s missed Taehyung’s
rambling - his mini soliloquies - and if this is the last one he’s ever going to hear, then he thinks
he’s allowed to let himself enjoy it.

“So,” Taehyung begins, “I think I have this thing where I need to be important to people - in a way.
I guess that’s why I let them believe things about me that aren’t true necessarily.”

“Like Esmée,” Jeongguk says, because he’s feeling kind of smug - but arguably rightfully so, so he
also doesn’t care.

Somehow, the blink Taehyung gives him back is impossibly slow - large almond eyes flickering.
How is it even possible to blink slowly, to manipulate time like that? “Sure,” he says. “Case in
point: Esmée. I guess it’s just easier to be what people want me to be. Makes life simpler.”

Jeongguk pulls a face. “Does it?”

“In ways.”

“Makes life tiring.”

“Sure.” Taehyung looks down at his coffee cup now, swirling its content with his wrist in leisurely,
bored circles. “In ways.”

“Makes life lonelier.”

His eyes suddenly flit up to Jeongguk’s for a second, his mouth cemented into a thin line, as if he
doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry at that statement. “Yes, thank you, Jeon - I’m aware.”

“What...” He doesn’t really know if it’s the right question to ask, but he’s curious now. “What did
you think I wanted you to be?”

“God, I don’t know,” Taehyung says, with a puff of laughter. “Charming, I suppose. And like, fun.
A little shameless. And I mean, I am - I wasn’t acting - but I didn’t have to turn those things on and
off with you, I didn’t have to try, you know, to filter myself, or amplify myself or whatever - I just
kind of was, and it was nice, I just... Dunno. Felt myself around you. I still do...” And the corners
of his pink lips are curling into a smile as he murmurs the words, “I missed you.”

Jeongguk’s heart flutters for the briefest of moments, but he squashes it down because this isn’t
supposed to be a reconciliation, at least not yet - he isn’t ready for that - so instead, he says: “It’s a
matter of priorities, isn’t it? You need to decide what’s important to you - what actually matters to
you - and then you just live for those things. Cut out the crap.”
“I don’t know what matters to me, Jeon,” he says, with a wistful sigh.

“God, that’s such--” Jeongguk gives him a hard stare. “Bullshit, Kim. Everyone does - a little. Deep
down, you do, it’s not--you can’t just sit around waiting for it to, like, smack you in the face. No
one else can tell you what’s important to you - not me, or your family, or Esmée or anyone. You’re
never going to live if you’re looking for the meaning of life. You act like you’re going to wake up
and have an epiphany someday, but if you’re sad right now, running off to the mountains won’t
change that - you’ll just be sad a thousand feet higher. Stop treating happiness like it’s something
you’ll find eventually instead of something you can choose to make for yourself - take some
fucking responsibility for your life.”

There’s a long pause of silence - too long - and Jeongguk kind of wants to die because oh god, that
was too much, wasn’t it? He’s not the guy’s mother. Oh lord, who does he think he is? That was so
unnecessarily--

“That’s Camus.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk manages to hum, mid panic attack.

“You just paraphrased Camus,” Taehyung says.

“... yes?”

“He wasn’t on the reading list...”

“Erm. Yeah. I read The Myth of Sisyphus over Christmas.”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head to look at him properly now, and Jeongguk can see it: the pure glee in
Taehyung’s eye - the delight of it.

“Yeah,” he says, a little laugh in his voice despite himself. “So?”

“So? You read a book of your own volition; you read a book because you wanted to - and Camus at
that. Jeon, I’m so proud of you.”

“God, do you want to patronise me any more?” Somehow, Taehyung’s praise makes something
warm squeeze around his chest, and he hates that he likes that. He shrugs slightly, feeling
embarrassed. “Philosophy’s interesting.”

Taehyung is wearing a wide, toothy grin now. “Philosophy is interesting,” he affirms.

“But we’re not here to talk about philosophy - we’re here to talk about you.”

“Ooh,” he says. “Smooth segue. Very nice, Jeon - gold star for that one.” He rests an elbow on the
back of his chair now as he leans back slightly. “What did you think of it though?”

“Of what?”

“The Myth of Sisyphus?”

God, this guy. “Kim, this isn’t--”

“Okay, okay. Go on then,” he says, with a dramatic flourish of his hands, and Jeongguk is very
proud of himself for not smiling at it. “Ask me your next thought-provoking question.”

“What’s important to you?”

He considers it for a moment. “My family,” he says, after a while. “As weird as they are.”

“And what do you want, Kim? As in, honestly. Truthfully.”

“To be closer to them.” He clicks his tongue. “Spend more time with them. My parents, I mean -
the others less so. Well. I guess I want them to want to spend more time with me - to make the
effort, maybe - but that’s not really going to happen anytime soon because they’re so busy. I don’t
know, I’d feel guilty dragging them away from doing something important.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “And spending time with you isn’t important?”

“It’s not...” He shrugs. “A deadline, you know? It’s not, like, urgent.”

“See, this is what I mean - you’re waiting for the perfect moment as if it’s ever gonna come. Take
responsibility. You’re not trapped Kim, you’re just scared.”

“I guess.” Taehyung’s head sags a little where it rests in his hand, cheek pressed against his palm.
“Difference, huh.”

“Real big difference - you can change it. I think you should tell your parents.”

“Hmm?”

“That you want to spend more time with them.”

Taehyung gives him a look that’s half-disbelief and half-amusement. “That’s so... childish. Nearly
twenty-one, Jeon.”

“So? Never too late to amend things. And they won’t know you feel neglected unless you tell them
you feel neglected - people aren’t mind readers, Kim.”

Taehyung makes a noncommittal grunting sound. “Maybe,” he says.

“Think that’s a yes.”

“Think it’s a maybe,” he chuckles, “but sure. Thanks.” He watches as Jeongguk finishes off the rest
of his cup, waits a few seconds before he asks, “I won’t see you around, will I?”

Jeongguk tries to shrug as casually as he can; he thinks he manages it. “Probably not.”

“Can we... still be friends?”

He thinks about it for a moment, but really, the fact that his insecurities centred around this guy for
a good month of his life tells him enough. They need space from each other; it’s for the best. Not
yet, is what he should say. “I don’t know,” is what he says instead, and Taehyung looks
disappointed but respectful of that, like he wasn’t expecting any other answer anyway.

“Okay,” he says. “Erm, well thank you for this. For agreeing to it.”

“No problem. Thanks for the cappuccino.”

Taehyung grins slightly. “You liked it then?”

“Eh, a little sweet, but it’s fine.” He pulls his arms through his coat sleeves, and goes to stand up.
“Bye,” he says, with a little wave of his hand.
 “Yeah...” Taehyung waves back. “See you not around, Jeon.”

Chapter End Notes

Ahhh thank you, as always, to anyone who takes the time to leave a comment - you're
all so nicee. Thank you for being joys to write for <3
 Chapter Eleven
Chapter Summary

*gasp* did somebody say more time skips???

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jeongguk bumps into Taehyung three weeks later. Very literally. As in, the weather is currently
torrential rainfall and Jeongguk can’t fucking see anything, and he steps out into the road to cross it
and nearly gets run over by Taehyung’s car. What an experience.

Taehyung beeps the horn in shock, and then, when he sees Jeongguk’s alarmed little face through
the streaky glass, he beeps even harder. “What the hell?” Jeongguk hears him yell out, as he props
his door open slightly. “Jeon... you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re drenched.”

“I like the rain.”

“You’re gonna get hypothermia.”

“You’re...” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “So dramatic, Jesus.”

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Why? Are you offering me a lift?” Jeongguk bounces on the balls of his feet for a few seconds in
an attempt to keep warm. “If so, I must politely decline.”

“Jeez, I--” Taehyung frowns slightly. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”

“I’d be in a compact space with you - alone. What couldn’t you do, Kim - that’s the question.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, looking as fed up as he does entertained.“Okay, I’m...” His fingers tap on
the driving wheel in impatience. “I’m not gonna fight you. God.” And then he’s going to close the
door, and Jeongguk feels a little pang of victory, but then he realises that the water has long since
seeped into his underwear, and really, he doesn’t like rain - he actually kind of hates rain (he only
wants to be wet when he decides to be, and the rain is always fucking up his plans) - so maybe he
should just swallow his pride a little.

“Wait,” he says, before opening the door on the other side and flopping unceremoniously into the
passenger seat.

Taehyung gives him a very unimpressed look. “Yeah, okay,” he says, as Jeongguk shakes his hair
out. “Just get everywhere wet, why don’t you?”

“You offered.”
“Yeah, and you ‘politely declined’, so. I’m kind of confused.”

“Just take me home, Kim.”

“God,” Taehyung says again, but there’s a little laugh in his voice. “Okay,” he mouths, mostly to
himself, and then he’s putting his foot on the accelerator again. “Where do you even live, Jeon?
You still on campus?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Taehyung gives him an exasperated side glance, and then looks even more exasperated when he
realises Jeongguk’s just joking. “Making this real difficult,” he tuts.

“Turn left here,” Jeongguk instructs him. “It’s the apartment complex near the gogi-jip. You know
Baetjang, right?”

“I am aware,” Taehyung replies. “Who you rooming with?”

“Asking me a lot of questions, Kim.”

“Two,” he says coolly. “I’ve asked you two. Okay, you know what, we can just...” He taps another
rhythm on his steering wheel, his tongue poking into his cheek. “We can just sit here in silence, I
guess. That’s... also cool.” The pact of silence only lasts a minute though before Jeongguk notes
the growing discomfort on Taehyung’s face and decides to take pity on him.

“Yugyeom,” he says. “We have this little two-bedroom place.”

“Ah,” Taehyung clucks. “Yugyeom-ah, he’s... the Economics major, right?”

“God, of course you know him.”

His eyes twinkle a little. “I know everyone,” he says.

“Uh huh.”

“So,” Taehyung continues as he makes another turn, “what were you doing out in the rain, Jeon?
You seem ill-equipped.”

“Just reading up on some maths stuff at the library.” Then, the weather decided to betray him;
Jeongguk feels like he’s accidentally made an enemy of the entire universe and he needs someone
to tell him how to reverse that shit fast. “Don’t want to buy the textbook, so.”

“Ah. Frugal boy.”

“Yeah - that’s a foreign concept to you, huh?”

Taehyung gives him another side glance but doesn’t say anything, and Jeongguk momentarily feels
like a dick, even though--god, he hadn’t meant for it to sound mean. Just kind of playful, or
something. He’s not great at toeing that line sometimes. When Taehyung remains quiet, he decides
to turn on the radio because maybe the guy was onto something: silence sucks. He tunes into a
random station and a mellow pop song plays softly through the speakers.

“What were you reading about?” Taehyung says.

“Hmm?”
“Your maths thing.” He’s probably just asking things for the sake of asking now because god
knows he doesn’t actually care.

“Nothing you’d understand.”

“Awh. Try me, Jeon.”

“Just a physics concept...” He contemplates dismissing him again, but Taehyung is so oddly
persistent about the weirdest things. “It’s like--okay, layman’s terms: decreasing the area of an
object increases the pressure and reduces rate of flow, but then, like, you apply that principle to
more complex engineering scenarios.”

Taehyung’s silent for a moment, tapping in careful rumination. “So, like a cock ring,” he says after
a while.

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “Sure, Kim,” he says, very slowly, “like a cock ring.”

“Well.” Taehyung smiles slightly. “That I understand plenty.”

God. Jeongguk turns up the radio volume, and Taehyung just smiles harder.

Eventually, they make it to Jeongguk’s apartment and he pushes the car door open. “Well,” he
says, peeling himself out of the seat. He’s made a wet imprint of his body on the leather - which
Taehyung probably doesn’t appreciate - but really, that’s not his problem. “Thank you, my
gentlemanly chauffeur.”

“You gonna tip me?”

He gives him a slanted look. “My company was payment enough.”

“Oh, and he’s humble too,” Taehyung says. “Okay, get the fuck out, Jeon - you’re making my car
smell damp.”

“Awh,” Jeongguk says, as he gets shooed away. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“I’m not on working hours anymore. Go on - go.” Taehyung leans back in his seat to give
Jeongguk a squinty grin as he clambers out. They lock eyes before he goes to shut the door, and
even though it’s only for a few seconds, in that moment, he feels his heart beat a little faster in his
chest. Not wild thrashing, or heavy hammering, just sort of... thumping. Rhythmic and slow and
sure. Synched with the blinks of Taehyung’s steady eyes. Like when you’re halfway down a
descent and you’re just kind of strapped in for the ride - waiting to reach the bottom. Knowing it’s
coming. “Okay... bye.”

“Erm, yeah...” Jeongguk gives him a weak wave as he starts to reverse out. “See you.”

“Nice apron,” Taehyung says. He’s sauntering towards the cash register, basket in hand, gait
leisurely and kind of cocky as he approaches where Jeongguk is standing - currently donning his
uniform-from-hell, and wanting so very badly to be home. Wearing Mike Wazowski on his chest is
hard enough to deal with without people actively commenting on it, and really, he’s not in the
fucking mood.

“You know what, Kim?” he says as Taehyung places the basket on the counter. “Fuck off.”
“Ooh.” He tuts, a solemn look of disappointment on his face. “That’s no way to talk to a paying
customer.”

“You’re buying pickled onions - you’re no customer of mine.”

He pouts. “They’re nice.”

The ignorance is scary. “They’re a legal poison; that’s how they trick you.”

“God, just scan my shit.”

“Yeah, shit’s the word for it.” Jeongguk makes sure to scrunch his nose as he picks up the cheese.
Gorgonzola the packaging reads. He doesn’t trust it one bit: it’s blue. It has veins. What the fuck?
Dairy should not have veins.

“Acquired taste,” is all Taehyung says.

“Yeah, yeah.” He picks up the next item. “Don’t you ever buy anything fucking normal?
Anchovies? Really?”

“I’m teaching Mina how to make Niçoise toasts.”

“Ah,” he says, as if he knows what those are, and he feels a little pang in his heart at the mention of
the name because he misses her, and her nail massages, and her compulsion to iron all of his
clothes without him asking for it. Eugh, he misses all of them. “Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah actually,” Taehyung says, and Jeongguk expects him to add some gum to his purchase or
something. Instead he says: “Can you tell your co-worker friend we’re not sleeping together
anymore? Because every time I come in here, he follows me around the aisles with a cucumber in
his hand and it’s kind of terrifying.”

Wait, what? “Seriously? That’s...” Jeongguk’s love for Jimin has now grown exponentially.
“Hilarious.”

“Yeah, for you maybe. Kinda don’t want to be clubbed to death with a phallic vegetable - or you
know, have the threat looming over me.” The corners of Taehyung’s lips frown in genuine concern.
“He wields it like a fucking sword Jeon, it’s scary.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him,” Jeongguk says, with absolutely no intention of telling anyone a goddamn
thing. “Erm, that’ll be twenty thousand.” Taehyung pays with his card as Jeongguk bags everything
for him. Once he hands it over to him though, he makes no attempt to leave - he just kind of hovers
on the soles of his feet for a moment. Jeongguk gives him a look: “Anything else, Kim?”

“Erm... nah. Nothing.” Except it’s obviously something because he still doesn’t leave. Jeongguk
places his hands on the counter and leads forward - a direct challenge - and that makes Taehyung
laugh slightly. There’s a nervousness to it though. “Erm,” he says again, “I would ask you if you
wanna go out sometime but I feel like a rejection is likely.”

“Ask me anyway.”

“Huh?” He gives a confused blink.

“Ask me.”

“Uhm... okay. Jeon, do you want to go out sometime?”

“No.”

“Yeah, okay... that’s...” Taehyung clicks his tongue slightly. “Yeah. Expected.”

“Ask me in a week.”

“Why?” he says, smile crooked and dangerous. “Will you change your mind?”

“Dunno. Won’t find out unless you ask though.”

He calls a week later.

“Jeon,” he says, pure exhilaration in his voice when Jeongguk picks up.

“Yes?”

“You unblocked my number.”

“True.”

“Were you waiting for this?”

“No,” Jeongguk replies with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t hold grudges. I’m not mad anymore, so
we’re good.”

“Liar. You were totally waiting for this.”

“Not everything’s about you, Kim.”

“Liar,” Taehyung says again, and Jeongguk smiles a little despite himself, but it's fine because
Taehyung can’t see; he’s allowed it. “So, there’s this movie showing Saturday night...”

“Pretty vague wording, Kim.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Okay.” He sighs louder than he needs to. “Do you want to go see a movie?”

Jeongguk decides to humour him a little. “Which movie?”

“Money.”

“The one with Ryu Junyeol?”

“That’s the one.”

“Nah.”

There’s silence on the other side of the line, and Jeongguk can imagine Taehyung’s face, torn
between laughing and smashing his phone on the ground. “... you enjoy this, don’t you?” he asks.

This time, Jeongguk smiles properly: “Too much.”

The next time Taehyung calls him, he’s experiencing a personal crisis.
“Jeon,” he says, voice urgent and pinched through the phone, “I’m going camping.”

“Hmm?”

“This summer. I’m going camping. With my parents.”

“... congrats?”

“No.” No? “I’m not prepared at all. I--what the fuck, what do I even bring? Cards?” He pauses for
a moment in contemplation. “Yeah... I mean, cards are good, right? They’re... fun?”

Jeongguk is confused. “I’m confused,” he says. “This is... a good thing right?”

“Yeah? I guess? I just...” Taehyung’s voice trails off in that way it always does when he’s nervous
and doesn’t know how to express it. “I didn’t actually think they’d say yes - you know, when I
suggested it. I thought... I don’t know, we haven’t really done anything like this - just the three of
us - in so long, and I want it to go well. Like, really fucking badly. I--shit, what it sucks? What if
it’s boring? What if we don’t have anything to talk about?”

“Bullshit, Kim,” Jeongguk scoffs. “You always find something to talk about.”

“Do I?” The anxiousness is creeping back into his voice. “I feel like I’ve forgotten how to have
conversations with people. Oh my god, I’m so awkward, what the fuck?”

“Kim,” Jeongguk says again - firmer this time - because Taehyung sort of sounds like he’s having
a panic attack and the thought scares him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” A moment of silence. “Yeah,” he repeats, sounding a little less rattled. “Just...”

“... don’t want it to suck,” Jeongguk supplies.

“Right.”

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “Bring cards.”

“Right. Yeah.” There’s some rummaging on the other side of the line, and the sound of Taehyung
unzipping a bag. “Binoculars,” he asks: “Yes or no?”

“Wait, so now you’re making me help you pack? What am I, your concierge?”

“No, I just--” And really, the fact that Jeongguk can hear the little smile in Taehyung’s voice when
he says this next part doesn’t help things: “Talking to you just helps me freak out a little less. I
guess.”

“Oh,” is Jeongguk’s (mind blowingly intelligent) response. “Fair enough.” In his defence, it’s hard
to react articulately to this shit when Taehyung says such disarming things so casually, words
coming so easy; he feels caught off guard all the time. “Why binoculars?”

“My dad likes bird watching. Could like, do it together... maybe.”

“Erm... then yeah, I guess?”

“Guitar?”

“... what?”
“Well, it’s like... miniature. Ukulele.”

“Are you kidding?”

“... no?”

“Too much, Kim.”

“Okay.”

“Trying way too hard.”

“Gotcha.” More rummaging. “S’cool - I can’t play for shit anyway.”

Really, Taehyung doesn’t need help - he just needs someone to talk - someone to voice his thought
process out loud to (“Okay, so blue fleece over the yellow one because yellow attracts bugs.”
“Sure, Kim.” “You know - those pollen beetles.” “Uh huh.” “They terrify me.”) so Jeongguk
listens, and he has fun, so naturally, he has to pretend to himself that he’s not having fun.

“When are you leaving?” he asks at the end of Taehyung’s one-man show.

“Monday.”

“Have fun.”

“Thanks.” He can tell Taehyung is grinning. “I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“Don’t,” Jeongguk replies. “Why would I want to know?”

Taehyung gives a laugh. “Don’t front, Jeon - you’re way too invested now.” Jeongguk listens to
him rezip his bag. “Care about me too much.”

And when someone says something like this to you, really there are three ways you respond: a)
dismiss it, b) joke about it, c) go overboard with it. Here’s what you don’t do: let your reptilian
brain take over because you feel oddly called out, and just sit there on your bed in silence because
honestly, what kind of self-incrimination bullshit is that? Jeongguk’s mind hates him sometimes.

“Jeon.” Taehyung’s voice comes crooning through the phone again - sounding irritatingly sweet
and amused. “You there?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay. Erm... thanks for this.”

“Sure.” And then he hangs up before he can start feeling any stranger about himself. Burying his
head in his pillow, he grimaces slightly. Ugh: imagine falling for the same person twice.

It takes the whole of the summer holidays and eleven attempts but eventually, Taehyung gets
Jeongguk to say yes. He pretends it’s because he’s sick of the pursuits - of Taehyung’s annoying
persistence - but really Jeongguk just has no fucking resolve when it comes to him, so... there’s
that. At least the wait has given him some sense of control in the situation - some resemblance of
dignity. They’re watching Sins of The Moon; Jeongguk’s seen it before - he vaguely remembers an
alien invasion and a police task force - but it was pretty unmemorable, so he’s sure he could watch
it again.
He arrives at the cinema ten minutes late (the struggles of being the only student in a big city
without their own car), and somehow that extra time still wasn’t enough to prepare him because as
always, it’s unfair how good Taehyung looks sometimes - how boyishly, effortlessly good he
looks. A loose purple dress shirt on, top buttons undone, exposing just the top of his collarbone and
sparking Jeongguk’s imagination in the wildest ways, as if Taehyung knows what him wearing
purple does to Jeongguk (god, maybe he does - the bastard). His hair has a perfect middle parting,
fringe falling over his eyes so delicately like black curtains, and Jeongguk gets an overwhelming
urge to run his fingers through it and just ruin it a little bit - mess him up - and oh god, okay: hands
in fucking pockets, Jeon. He should’ve, like, jerked off beforehand or something - to empty out all
the horny and raunchy and downright terrifying thoughts in his brain - because he already feels like
a live wire on edge and he hasn’t even said hi to the guy yet.

What was all of this bullshit about him gaining control? Having the upper hand? Why doesn’t he
hate the fact that he doesn’t?

“Hey,” he says, once he’s finally within earshot, and if his voice sounds a little throaty then
Taehyung doesn’t comment on it. God, he needs water. He needs Jesus.

“Hey,” Taehyung replies, and Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way he stares a little (damn right, he
stares), the way his own eyes trail. Then, he’s grinning and there’s something almost mischievous
about it. “You look nice,” he says.

“I know,” Jeongguk says, and he’s pretty proud of his response - aloof, confident - because in his
mind, he’s kind of dying, but in a good way - like, in the best way possible. Everything about
Taehyung is just so good - dammit.

Taehyung laughs, but it’s slightly offbeat - a little late - enough to tell Jeongguk that he’s feeling
nervous too and okay, that kind of makes things better: they can be nervous together.

“So,” Jeongguk says, “before things go any further, Seokjin hyung has given us both some ground
rules because, despite never being in a lasting relationship himself, he thinks he gives pretty good
advice.”

“Oh?” Taehyung says, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Go on then. How bad are they?” Jeongguk
gets a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Oh god, they’re typed. That’s--I’m kind of... scared now.”

“He’s called them, and I’m sure you’ll find this a humble title...” Jeongguk unfolds the paper as
elegantly as he can, clears his throat - twice - and then announces: “Seokjin’s commandments.”

The look of pure delight on Taehyung’s face is honestly the stuff of nightmares. Figures. They’re
both such histrionic people; they’ll probably get along really well once Seokjin stops hating him.
“Very nice,” he laughs. “Is the first one no sex before marriage, because I think we’ll have to put a
line through that.”

“No, it’s: communicate you cyunts, and, well... I’ll let you see for yourself.” He passes the paper
over to Taehyung who blinks with round eyes at the first rule (it’s in bold and has ten exclamation
marks after it - you know, for emphasis or something).

He pulls a confused look: “Cyunts?” he asks.

“Ignore the ‘y’ - it’s a typo.”

“Ah - the perilous typo.”

“Seokjin hyung’s not great at checking shit - he just likes to channel his rage into stuff and then
forgets when the anger subsides.”

“No, I kind of like it. Cyunts,” Taehyung muses. “I want it on a t-shirt.” He goes down the rest of
the list: “Okay, speak your mind if you’re uncomfortable - that’s a given. Err... don’t shy away
from respectful disagreement... spend quality time face to face - awh, Jeon, these are kind of cute,”
he says, a little snicker in his voice. Cute isn’t the word that comes to mind, really: overly (sadly?)
invested in Jeongguk’s love life, perhaps?

He watches Taehyung pocket the paper. “Erm,” he says, with a subtle bite of his lip (Jeongguk’s
going to have to ban him from doing that - that shit is not suitable in public; that shit is dangerous),
“I was going to buy you popcorn but I didn’t know which flavour you prefer. Salty, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, or else it’s just sickly.”

He stands in relative silence as Taehyung orders snacks for them: a bucket of toffee popcorn for
him; nachos with melted cheese, a hotdog, a packet of barbecue-flavoured crisps and salty popcorn
for Jeongguk.

“You’re a fucking pig, you know that?” Taehyung says, as the two of them carefully waddle
towards the screening room, Jeongguk’s food precariously balanced in their arms - it’s a joint
effort.

“Just getting my money’s worth, Kim.”

“I feel used.”

“Good.”

“Am I just a wallet to you, Jeon?”

“Amongst other things. Personal driver, maybe?”

Once they’ve settled in their seats, the playfulness slowly dissipates. It’s not awkward necessarily,
just different. Strange because it shouldn’t be strange; he and Taehyung have done way weirder
things than hang out together in a cinema - this shit shouldn’t feel so hard to navigate through. He
guesses Taehyung doesn’t really know where he stands with him though - guesses that’s true for
the both of them. Even when he hands Jeongguk’s hotdog over to him, he tries real hard not to
touch him, to let their fingers brush accidentally, and it feels so jarring to not have him rubbing up
against Jeongguk’s side like a self-indulgent cat. Not that he wants that - god - it’s just... different.
He’s neater somehow - tucked in - not letting himself spill out beyond the lines he’s so carefully
constructed around himself, and even though Jeongguk knows he’s just doing it out of courtesy,
there’s a part of him that really hates it.

The movie starts shortly afterwards though, and the stilted atmosphere kind of disappears because
they’re too distracted by the action on the screen. Jeongguk also quickly realises that he can’t
remember for the life of him why he actually agreed to this. He’d already seen everything showing
in the cinemas recently - so it wouldn’t have mattered what Taehyung had picked - and he’d
thought that Sins Of The Moon had been entertaining enough (some mindless fun), but rewatching
it now without the intrigue of the unknown to hook him, he finds that really, this movie is just bad.
So fucking bad.

“This plot makes no sense,” he whispers to Taehyung, as they watch an intense rooftop chase
scene - the look of petrification on the agent’s face as the alien gains ground. “She’s got a fucking
gun - what, did she not think to use it.”
“Jeon--”

“They already know bullets work on these guys.”

“Shut--”

“There’s no sense of suspense here.”

“--your mouth.”

Jeongguk does not in fact shut his mouth. Instead, he provides commentary throughout the whole
thing. ‘Commentary’ and not ‘rubbish’ - as Taehyung had called it - because in his opinion, he
offers some very interesting and helpful insight. Case in point - when the detective’s French
Bulldog appears on the screen, he leans across slightly to share his observation that: “That dog’s
face looks like a scrotum.” Taehyung snorts the lemonade he’s drinking out of his nostrils.

They’re nearing the end of it now - the grand finale, the ultimate face-down between the humans
and the aliens - and the look of genuine anticipation on Taehyung’s face is downright
embarrassing. God, imagine being this easily amused: mustn't life be nice.

“This is a shit film,” Jeongguk says, for what must be the fiftieth time (in case Taehyung didn’t
hear him the other forty nine), “and the fact that you’re emotionally invested in it” - he steals some
popcorn from Taehyung’s box (to, you know, assert his dominance or something) - “speaks
volumes about your character.”

Taehyung takes the popcorn back and throws it into his mouth with a defiant crunch before
Jeongguk can retaliate. “You just don’t appreciate the joy of guilty pleasures, Jeon. A film being
trash does not negate its enjoyability.”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk replies. “Use the word ‘negate’ in a sentence again - I dare you.”

“Ugh.” He gives Jeongguk a light nudge with his shoulder, and Jeongguk revels in the fact that
that’s the most he’s touched him all day (then feels stupid and immediately stops revelling). “Shut
up and let me watch.”

The humans are gearing up now in an (unnecessarily long, Jeongguk might add) montage of them
all putting on their uniforms and assembling their weapons.

“God, she’s so badass,” Taehyung says, referring to one of the protagonists - a policewoman by
day, but apparently a fucking acrobat by night because she’s doing, like, quadruple flips in the air
right now. “Imagine being her stunt double - how the fuck do they pull off that shit?”

“She dies,” Jeongguk says, without really thinking about it.

There’s a tense moment of silence.

“... what?”

“She erm...” He winces because he’s not sure if Taehyung actually wants him to repeat it, or if he’s
just incredibly crushed - probably the latter. “She dies.”

“What the fuck...”

“But if it’s offscreen so it’s chill.”

“Why would you tell me that?” Taehyung’s voice is a hiss now, slithering through the air like an
angry snake.

“I--” Is it bad that Jeongguk is laughing? God, he really shouldn’t be laughing.

“Oh my god, Jeon - you’ve ruined it--”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not.”

And maybe he isn’t, but really, that just makes this whole thing funnier. “I didn’t know you cared
that much about spoilers. It’s... there’s, like, twenty more minutes Kim, it’s not like there’s much
left to it--hey, where are you going?” he asks, because Taehyung is standing up and grabbing his
coat with such fire in his eyes, and he’s leaving. Oh god, he’s actually leaving. Jeongguk can’t
breathe with how hard he’s laughing. “Wait, no Tae... oh my god...” He can’t stop wheezing. The
woman in the row in front of them turns around to give Jeongguk a pointed glare, but really, he’s
too far gone now to reign himself in. After he’s calmed down slightly, he picks up all his rubbish
and walks out as well.

A part of him is expecting Taehyung to be gone when he exits the screening room - already driving
through the streets of Sunyeong, growly music blasting from his car radio as he tries to find an
outlet for his all-consuming rage - but instead, he’s leaning on the wall besides the entrance of the
men’s toilets, a look of absolute unamusement on his face.

“I’m not speaking to you,” he says, which Jeongguk finds a bit counterintuitive and it only serves
to make him smile harder.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I know how invested you were - that was inconsiderate of me.”

“At least try and sound sincere.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning forwards slightly, his fingers grabbing the hem of Taehyung’s shirt -
another thing he didn’t really think about. He guesses the stupidity of the situation made him feel a
little giddy, a little teasing - like there were no consequences to anything anymore - made him feel
comfortable enough to think he could fucking hold Taehyung’s shirt, as if that’s not a strange thing
to do under normal circumstances anyway, nevermind whatever the hell this is. God, why is he
such a freak? Why does he have to go and make everything so fucking weird all the time?

Taehyung’s eyes drift to his hands, purple fabric pinched between them. It’s not really playful
anymore though - more tight and panicked: Jeongguk wanting to let go but not knowing how he’s
going to do so without losing every scrap of his self dignity in the process - and he gives him a
little smile, although whether it’s a wry or inquisitive one, Jeongguk doesn’t know. Oh god. Abort
mission. Release shirt. He slowly leans back, bringing his hands to his body again and clasping
them together like he’s in a church choir: very smooth. A-class fucking smoothness.

“Erm, what do you want to do now?” he says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he waits for
the inevitable wave of mortification to wash over him and go away.

Taehyung doesn’t look like he’s even registered his question though because he’s too busy just
staring at Jeongguk - eyes blinking wide and curious, like he’s assessing something, reading him -
and it makes Jeongguk feel as dizzy as it does anxious, this gentle heat pooling in the stomach as
he stands there and stares back.

“Can I kiss you?” Taehyung murmurs, and Jeongguk thinks he melts into a puddle on the spot
because the fact he thought to ask is kind of adorable. Well. He might’ve just feared that Jeongguk
would break his spine clean in two if he attempted it without warning, but still: the intent is cute.
God, this boy - making his heart beat like this; Jeongguk feels like he’s experiencing his first crush
all over again, and he really doesn’t hate it.

“Eugh,” he says, dimples forming in his cheeks before he can stop them. “Go on then.”

Taehyung leans forward, and presses one to the corner of his lips - soft, and sweet and simple - and
Jeongguk feels a window in his heart open up, pushing towards the sky outside - blue and infinite
and full of possibility - because maybe this isn’t love, but maybe one day it could be, and honestly,
the thought excites him. Taehyung gives him another one - full on the mouth this time, eyes
smiling - and then along his jaw, and on his ear, and down his throat, and there’s something so
impossibly gentle about the whole thing, but Jeongguk still feels like he’s being cracked open and
spilled out. Emptied into Taehyung’s hands.

“Pretty weak kiss, Kim,” he says when he finally pulls away, except they’re not really words as
much as they are whispered breaths.

“Yeah, because I didn’t want you to punch me in the throat,” Taehyung says, laughing slightly. “I
mean, I don’t really know what’s allowed right now...”

“Do whatever,” Jeongguk shrugs, leaning forwards to kiss him again because he’s allowed to -
because that’s a thing they can do now. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” Taehyung’s eyes darken
immediately in delight, and Jeongguk scrunches his nose. “Okay,” he says. “Whatever you’re
thinking right now: probably too much.”

Taehyung sighs, burying his face into Jeongguk’s neck, and it’s as precious as it is annoyingly
dramatic. “Shame,” he says, and then he’s angling his head up for another kiss.

And really, they weren’t supposed to have sex tonight - that wasn’t the plan; Jeongguk wanted to
make him wait a little longer, make him work for it, but plans are flimsy things when it comes to
Taehyung because he’s always got a way of fucking derailing them, and there’s a part of him that
loves that, so when Taehyung asks him if he wants to come home with him, Jeongguk breathes yes,
and when Taehyung asks him if he’s sure, Jeongguk says fucking answered you the first time, Kim.
And maybe it should feel like a defeat - a weakness in the knees, a stumble - but when Taehyung
hugs him at the waist and sighs into his hair and smiles against his lips, Jeongguk can’t bring
himself to care.

It isn’t a competition. It’s just the two of them wanting each other, and acting on it and there’s
something so pure about that; no more games - just touches, and kisses, and hugs - and it makes
Jeongguk’s toes curl up in his socks.

As soon as they’re inside the apartment, Taehyung’s pressing his back up against the wall and
Jeongguk melts into it, because it’s stupid how much he’s missed this - the faux wrestling, the
battle for leverage, the fact that Taehyung always wins eventually but only because Jeongguk lets
him.

“This okay?” Taehyung murmurs against his ear, giving a soft squeeze of Jeongguk’s ass. He
keeps asking that - is this okay? - and it’s as endearing as it is infuriating because Jeongguk wants
his hands all over him, wants him to overwhelm him a little, and he can’t have Taehyung hesitating
this much, so he grabs his other hand, leads it down until it’s cupping the bulge in Jeongguk’s
jeans, pressed up against the heat.

“The fuck do you think, Kim?”

“Jesus,” Taehyung says, and he’s laughing but there’s a hot blush fanning across his cheeks. “Just
checking.” He shudders slightly as he starts unzipping them, eyes glazed. “God,” he sighs, gaze
fluttering as he noses into Jeongguk’s shoulder. “You’re mad sexy.”

“You say it like I don’t know that,” Jeongguk replies, trying to keep his voice level as he feels
Taehyung’s fingers tease the waistband of his boxers.

He gets a chuckle in response. “Yeah, okay.” They make out a little longer, and Jeongguk feels so
stupidly young - like horny teenagers rutting against each other - but he doesn’t exactly dislike the
sensation. When Taehyung’s palm ghosts lightly across his nipple through his t-shirt, Jeongguk
thinks his brain short-circuits, and when Taehyung bites his fucking lip again, Jeonguk’s heart
pounds solid in his chest. God, he’s going to be the death of him - so audaciously seductive. How
the fuck did he handle this before? He’s out of practice; he needs to build resilience, stamina,
something.

He freezes though when he feels Taehyung’s hands dig under the middle of his thighs. “Whoa,” he
says, laughing slightly as he loses his balance. “What are you trying to do?”

“Carry you,” Taehyung grunts in reply, although considering how his knees keep buckling under
the weight of it all when he tries to lift, that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. “Yeah,
or maybe not,” he concedes, and opts to just drag Jeongguk into the bedroom instead.

“Could’ve put your back into it, Kim,” he scoffs.

“God, shut up.”

“Am I that heavy?”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, spinning Jeongguk around so he’s against the dresser, hands gripping the
edge as he hovers over him. There’s something he loves about this position, about the way
Taehyung makes him feel a little small - how he looks so intimidating and irresistible at the same
time, eyes dark and slanted. Fucking majestic; Jeongguk feels light-headed. “Fucking muscle pig.”

“Think you’re just weak.” He tries to make the words sound snarky, but that’s hard to achieve
when Taehyung is kissing up his neck, licking into his mouth, shaking the jeans off his legs.

“Sure,” Taehyung says, tugging at Jeongguk’s shirt, which he happily shucks off. Then, he’s
taking off his own clothes. “Think that.”

“Just saying,” Jeongguk says, with a little purr in his voice. “That was embarrassing.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t know how you’re gonna live that one down.”

But then Taehyung’s twisting him around again, flat palm to his chest as he pushes Jeongguk down
onto the bed, long legs straddling him and it’s amazing how fluid he is - how his body dances
sometimes, a flame in the wind - and Jeongguk thinks: never mind - he’s definitely going to live this
down.

All of this feels so electric - so alive: the buzz of the pink in Taehyung’s cheeks, his fingers on
Jeongguk’s thighs as he spreads them apart, sucks bruises into his skin. As he takes and takes and
takes and leaves Jeongguk shaking and ruined beneath him, and wanting it all over again.
Delicately ruthless. Rough in the most magical way, and it feels so good - Taehyung’s so fucking
good. So he lets him have a victory - and another one, and another - until he’s boneless and
breathless and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because Taehyung can win without him losing -
because in a way, they both win. Because Jeongguk likes this a little too much, the feeling of being
under him, and his eyes, and his attention. Being taken apart and put back together again like a
puzzle only Taehyung’s hands know how to solve. And when he comes, face buried in Taehyung’s
neck, he feels like he’s floating on something - riding a wave that’s crescendoing higher and higher
and higher - before he gently glides back down to earth.

Taehyung cries afterwards. He’s fine to begin with - they clean up and lie in bed - but a few
minutes later, tears start rolling down his cheeks, and he keeps saying things like, “I’m sorry”,
alarm in his face as he wipes away at them - shit, I’m so sorry - and “I don’t deserve you,” and
“Thank you.” Thank you, he says. He whispers it into Jeongguk’s skin like he wants to write the
words there with his mouth. Thank you. As if Jeongguk is anything special, as if Jeongguk is
something worth being grateful for. God, this boy: looking at Jeongguk like he can’t believe he’s
here right now - like he can’t believe he gets to have him - and it makes something catch in
Jeongguk’s throat, solid and immovable.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, sinking down to rest his head on Jeongguk’s chest. “So perfect, Jeon.”
Except for once, Jeongguk doesn’t feel like he has to live up to anything because if Taehyung likes
him - warts and all, pettiness and all, mean streak and all - then that’s okay really. That’s enough.
Relationships aren’t for perfect people, they’re for people who are trying, and that’s all they’re
doing really: trying.

“Jeon, what are you wearing right now?” are the first words Taehyung says when Jeongguk picks
up his call.

“Eugh,” he grunts back, because he’s kind of sleepy right now and not up for this shit at all. “Ever
heard of masturbation, Kim?”

“Wha--no, I mean.” Taehyung barks with laughter on the other side of the line. “I have something
to give you.” Oh? Now his curiosity is piqued. “I’m outside - buzz me up.”

Jeongguk does, and then instantly regrets it because: “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“A t-shirt,” Taehyung says, simply, which is technically true: a t-shirt with glaringly ugly neon
pink letters on it. Communicate, you cyunts it reads proudly, right across the chest. Glamorous.

“Wow,” Jeongguk says. “You actually did it.”

“I got us matching ones.”

No. “Why?” No.

“Because,” he shrugs with that chaotic playness in his eyes.

“Because why, Kim?”

“Don’t you want to see yours?” he says instead, ignoring the question entirely.

“Sure. Where’s mine?” Jeongguk asks, and he thinks he nearly faints when Taehyung pulls it out of
his bag because it’s lime green. The bastard. Jeongguk points an accusatory finger: “You
dickhead.”

“I thought it would remind you of familiar environments,” Taehyung says with a little what, me?
look of innocence on his face. Jeongguk is fuming.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay Jeon, this is a lot of hostility--”

“I can’t believe you would--”

“--concerning a pretty small thing--”

“Of all the fucking colours--”

“It’ll look good on you.” He smiles, his curved lips a half-moon of amusement. “You look good in
green.”

Which is really the biggest lie of them all. “No I fucking don’t,” he seethes.

“Okay.” Taehyung pauses in reflection, and then he’s smiling wider. “So maybe you don’t...,” he
agrees.

“I’m not wearing it.”

“No,” he pouts, eyebrows drooping like disappointed slugs. “C’mon Jeon - once.”

“Nope.”

“Please.”

“No dice, Kim.”

“Jeon.” Taehyung clasps his hands together in prayer, face furrowed with a type of seriousness that
just isn’t warranted in a situation as dumb as this one. “I beseech you,” he says.

God, this guy. “Say the word beseech again - let’s see what I do to you.”

After a few minutes of Taehyung waving the t-shirt in his face though - way too passionately,
Jeongguk might add, for a guy who’s supposedly doing this shit ironically - he eventually
succumbs to the idiocy and takes off his own shirt with reluctance (maybe this whole thing was
just a ploy to get Jeongguk half-naked from the beginning - dammit, he’s been had).

“Give,” he says, hand outstretched, and Taehyung does, watching with shining eyes as Jeongguk
pulls the monstrosity over his head and through his arms.

“It fits,” he notes, as if that means anything.

“I’m not keeping it.”

“Okay,” Taehyung replies, trying to hide a snicker behind that shit-eating grin of his.

“I’m serious, Kim. It’s a fucking abomination.”

He still lets Taehyung take a photo of him in it (deadpan expression on his face - he’s not getting a
smile out of him: no fucking way), and then he sends said photo to Namjoon and Seokjin:

Super cool hyung

... interesting
Our Lord and Saviour Jin

i approve

Jeongguk keeps the t-shirt.

They have no lighter fluid, and Yoongi is angry. More specifically, he’s angry at Hoseok. It will
never cease to amaze Jeongguk how he can go from being a sage, subdued dragon to a fucking
inferno in the space of ten seconds:

“Can’t believe you forgot it.”

“I didn’t, it’s--” Hoseok is rifling desperately through one of the bags. “It’s here somewhere.”

“I gave you a fucking list Hobi--”

“I remember--”

“It had, like, three items on it.”

“--bringing it.”

“How the fuck did you screw that up?”

“Jesus Yoonge, it’s here somewhere--”

“I couldn’t screw that up if I tried.”

“--and you’re making it real hard--”

“We’re all going to starve because of you.”

“--to search for it.”

“You inane monkey.”

“Whoa,” Taehyung says, holding up his hands like a quasi-referee in this verbal tennis match. His
eyes are sparkling though - a telltale sign that he’s finding this whole thing way more entertaining
than he should; meanwhile, Jeongguk watches from the sidelines with a sick sense of terror in his
stomach. If he accidentally makes eye contact with Yoongi, he thinks it might actually turn him to
stone. “Let’s refrain from those sorts of insults, Yoonge.”

“You’re right,” the shorter boy grunts, giving Hoseok a dismissive once-over. “At least trained
monkeys remember to bring shit.”

Hoseok drops the bag now, ready to throw punches. “Oh my god--”

“Here!” Mina says. They all turn to look at her, round eyes blinking owlishly. “It’s here.” She digs
a hand into one of the other duffle bags they brought and emerges triumphantly with a container of
lighter fluid and some matches.

“Oh.” And just like that, Yoongi’s simmering rage evaporates. He straightens his posture slightly.
“Shall we warm some soup then?” he asks. Hoseok gives him the glare of imminent death.

“You know, you really need to stop terrorising your friends,” Jeongguk observes as they collect dry
twigs and branches for the fire.

Yoongi gives a snort of contempt. “Who said you guys were my friends? You’re just placeholders
until my Marxist regime comes to pass and I’m king over this fucking country.”

“Oh please,” Taehyung laughs. “Yoonge, you’re too unambitious for that.” He tsks back in
annoyed agreement.

Once he’s gotten some food in him though, his bristly mood dissipates and he offers Hoseok some
of his bread roll in a silent apology, which Hoseok gladly takes because really, the guy is incapable
of holding grudges - Jeongguk can’t imagine ever being that good a person.

Taehyung’s turning twenty-one in two weeks, so they’re in the mountains. No grand party this year
- just squabbles, and crooked tents, and the biting cold of the winter wind, and really, it’s nicer this
way. Better.

“Okay, so I’ve got something for you,” Jeongguk tells him, when it’s just the two of them in their
two-man tent that’s really way too small to be considered a two-man tent, but whatever. He bets
Taehyung loves it - the way that their arms press together under their shared blanket, the fact that
he has an excuse to wrap their legs together. And maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t
completely hate it.

“Yeah?” Even in the inky darkness, Jeongguk can make out the little gleam in Taehyung’s eyes.
“Pour moi?”

“Yeah, Kim. Pass me a torch.” Once the tent is illuminated, Jeongguk wriggles around slightly to
prop himself on one elbow. “So, I was supposed to give this to you last year, but due to your
dickness--”

“God Jeon, show me the goods already.”

He unfurls his palm to reveal what it is: a military dog tag. There’s a moment where Taehyung
stares, and Jeongguk can’t breathe, and then Taehyung’s huffing in laughter a little bit, a grin on his
face, and Jeongguk remembers how to use his lungs again. He’s reading the words on the metal
now.

“Kim Sangook. Branch: Army. Service number... Blood type...” He scoffs a bit, hooking his
fingers under the chain. “How’d you find out all this shit?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s in the pictures if you look hard enough. Or if you have cool senior friends
with photo enhancement software.”

“You nerd.”

He laughs a little bit, sheepish. “Yeah... I just thought... because you talk about your ancestry so
much... dunno, thought it would be cool if you had a piece of it to like carry around with you, you
know? A part of him, I guess.”

“I love it,” Taehyung says, the words coming out like a breath of a fresh air. “I do. Thank you.” He
takes it into his own hands now, holding it so it dangles in front of his eyes, and then he pockets it
in his loose sweatpants. “No one’s ever gotten me something as thoughtful as that.”
 “You don’t...” Jeongguk gives him a look, voice low. “...have to keep saying shit like that, you
know. To make me feel good, or special or whatever.”

“But you are special,” Taehyung says, and it’s quiet but it’s firm. Fierce. “You are.” He gives him
a brief kiss on the shoulder, and Jeongguk doesn’t sigh - he doesn’t. “I...” he begins to say, but then
the adoration on his face morphs into something a little more nervous and he swallows whatever
he had on the tip of his tongue. “Ah. Nothing.”

Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow, curious now. “Oh?”

“I’ll tell you later, ‘m tired.” He makes these childish grabby motions with his arms as he beckons
Jeongguk to shuffle towards him, smile lazy and lopsided. “C’mere.”

“What, are we spooning?”

“Nah. Cuddling.”

When Jeongguk gets close enough, Taehyung’s swinging his leg round to roll on top of him, and
Jeongguk releases a surprised little mnph and a giggle in the process. Taehyung switches off the
torch, and then settles properly, spread out majestically like a napping lion.

“This is going to get real uncomfortable real quick,” Jeongguk warns him as he nestles his head
into the nook of his shoulder.

“Shush...”

“Our crotches are, like, pressed together.”

“Ugh, this is supposed to be wholesome Jeon - don’t ruin the fucking moment.”

“Just saying. If you get a boner, I’m not helping you out with it.”

“God,” Taehyung laughs, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of Jeongguk’s ear, and he’s glad that it’s
dark enough for Taehyung to not see the way it makes him grin so stupidly wide. “Shut up, man.
Sleep.”

“M’kay.”

This is kind of nice actually - having Taehyung’s body resting against his like a warm, weighted
blanket. Jeongguk lets his arms go limp and tries to relax into the feeling, into the heat radiating
from him, as he gradually falls asleep. He can’t help but wonder what Taehyung was going to say
though. He guesses it doesn’t really matter - he’ll tell him when he’s ready; he trusts him to do that.
And really, they don’t need to tell each other everything. Not when Taehyung is holding his waist
like this, like he’s something precious.

The words will come later. For now, he can read between the lines.

Chapter End Notes

Damn, make a tally of the number of times I use ‘--’ in this chapter, man. Just dashing
everywhere, I’m ~obsessed~. Think this is how I’m going to have conversations with
people now - just interrupting them mid-sentence all the time, spice things up.
Also: penultimate chapter?? Ahh, it’s gonna be over soon, that’s so strange. I’m not
sure when the final chapter will be finished in all honesty, but I do know I’ll try to
make it not suck (hopefully), and tie up loose ends and all that good shit. Thank you to
anyone still reading this mediocre creation of my imagination - you da best.
 Chapter Twelve
Chapter Summary

And they all lived happily ever after: Provence-edition.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Dec 18

Taehyung comes back to Busan with him for the holidays.

His parents are leaving on a business trip to Taiwan, and he doesn’t want to be home alone for ages
- and Jeongguk kind of doesn’t want to be apart from him, ever - so it works out. He meets
Jeongguk’s parents, and they love him because of course they do (his charm is actually disgusting
sometimes) and then his brother, and later, Seokjin and Namjoon come round, and besides some
brief animosity on Seokjin’s part (“Make Jeongguk cry again, and I’ll fry you in a skillet.”) and
some wide-eyed terror and profuse apologising on Taehyung’s part (“Please don’t?”), the whole
evening goes pretty smoothly. They sit in the living room - all of Jeongguk’s favourite people
under one roof - and everything is right with the world, and it’s easily one of the best nights of his
life.

“You better not fuck this up now, by the way,” he tells Taehyung when they’re making out in his
room. He feels so dumb - grinding against him with their jeans still on, like he’s sixteen again with
no goddamn self-control - but oh well. Taehyung makes him feel younger somehow, fucking
reckless. “I can’t let anyone who’s seen my dick and met my parents live - you know, just be out
there, wandering the earth - so it’s in your best interest to not fuck this up.”

Taehyung laughs, his voice pleasant and rumbly against Jeongguk’s lips. He cards his fingers
through his hair, tugs at it in a way that has Jeongguk reeling. “Noted,” he says. His eyes are
shining. “Don’t worry Jeon, we got a good thing going.”

Dec 22

They’re lying in bed together when he says it.

“Hey, Jeon.”

“Hmm?”

He listens as Taehyung readjusts his body position, rolling slightly so he’s on top of Jeongguk’s
side, his chin resting on his shoulder. And then his hands are coming down to hold him, tracing
smooth circles around his hips in that coaxing way that Taehyung does when he’s about to ask
Jeongguk a question that he thinks he’ll say no to.

“Do you wanna come to France with me?”

Dec 24

He’s surprised his parents are cool with it, considering a week ago, Taehyung was a complete
stranger to them. He guesses that they trust his judgment though, and also there would be no way
of stopping him anyway; he’d always been like that as a kid - running ahead and doing his own
thing - and they’d always be watching him from the sidelines, the periphery, but as long as he came
home safe, it was fine. And right now, Jeongguk feels more than safe.

Yoongi offers to give them a ride to the airport under the pretence of helping them save money on
a taxi, but really, he just wants to see Taehyung one last time before he’s gone for a whole
fortnight, and Taehyung is gracious enough not to bully him about it.

“Sorry we can’t go ice-skating this year,” he says.

Yoongi just grunts in response.

“Cuz I know how much you were looking forward to that.”

“Uh huh.”

“But don’t worry - next Christmas, I’m gonna treat you. Gonna twirl you around like it’s nobody’s
business.”

“Jesus, stop talking.”

“Pretty light on my feet, if I do say so myself.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and says over his shoulder to Jeongguk, “Your first time out of the country
and it’s with this fucking loser. You sure you’re gonna be okay, kid?”

“Eh. I’ll manage.”

“What did I tell you before?”

“Keep him away from Sunset Rum.”

“Good boy - it’ll only lead to bad things; last New Year’s was a shitshow. And if he gets a little too
frisky for your liking?”

“Elbow strike to the face, swift kick to the groin.”

“Yeah.” There’s a gleam of pride in his eyes as he looks into the mirror to give Jeongguk a gummy
smile-grimace hybrid. “Yeah, hyung’s taught you well.”

“Hey.” Taehyung turns around in the passenger seat to look at him. “If you don’t feel comfortable
with something I do, just tell me maybe?”

Yoongi scoffs derisively. “Tae, knees speak louder than words. If he gets handsy kid, drop kick
him - and that’s an order.”

“Yes sir,” Jeongguk replies.

“Attaboy.”
When Yoongi finally pulls up at the airport, they exit the car and grab their luggage from the boot.
Jeongguk’s too-big suitcase wobbles in protest as he attempts to lug it out. Maybe he did overpack,
but equally, maybe he’s just a genius who’s prepared for every scenario under the sun; he’s going
with the latter.

“Before you go,” Taehyung says, resting his elbow on the open window frame as he leans in to talk
to Yoongi, “I have a confession.”

The shorter boy rolls his eyes. “Make it quick.”

“Okay, so.” Taehyung claps his hands.

“I said quick, Tae.”

“You know that time last year, when your seaweed disappeared?”

Jeongguk watches as Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow in slow-motion - his face a look of utter
resignation - as though he is crushingly disappointed, but also not surprised even in the slightest.

“It was me.”

“Bastard.”

“I love you too.”

Yoongi winds up the window. “Go to hell.”

Taehyung semi-screams through the glass: “And I'm gonna miss you.”

“I hope your plane crashes and burns.”

Once they’ve boarded the flight, Taehyung reads A Clockwork Orange aloud to him - accents and
all, which is disastrous and somehow sweet at the same time; he gets points for trying. Besides,
Jeongguk kind of loves listening to his voice a little too much, even as said voice butchers many,
many Britishly-pronounced Nadsat words. He spends the better half of his Christmas Eve in the
sky with Taehyung - sleeping on his shoulder - and he has no regrets.

Dec 25

“That,” Taehyung says, pointing a finger towards a disabled toilet in the Charles de Gaulle Airport
on their left as they pass it, “is where I lost my virginity.”

Jeongguk groans. “Oh god,” he says. “Elaborate immediately.”

“Okay, so there was this guy I used to go to collège with, before I moved--”

“Another French ex? There’s more? Do I have to Scott Pilgrim all of them?”

“He was called Étienne--”

“Christ, what a name.”

“Right? Full version: Étienne Mathieu Laferrière. He came from a long line of Laferrières.”
Jeongguk whistles. “Exactly. Jésus Christ, indeed. He liked water polo, and he played the
trombone. Neither of those facts are relevant to the story, but it’s important to me that you know
them.”

Jeongguk raises a puzzled eyebrow. “Why? Was he good at blowies?”

Taehyung actually takes the time to think about it. “Erm... nah. No. Felt like my dick was in a
washing machine.”

“Huh. Would’ve thought, you know, with all the practice he had...”

“Yeah.”

“Shame.”

“Uh huh. Anyway - exposition over--”

“That was your exposition, Kim? All I know about the guy is that he sucked at fellatio.”

“We were seventeen - everyone sucked at fellatio.”

“And now you’re defending him.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. “Fuck’s sake,
pick a narrative. Are we rooting for him or not?”

“No - we’re mocking him.”

“Noted, continue.”

“Right. So.” Taehyung straightens his stance slightly, lowers his voice - storyteller mode activated
- and noticing the shift makes Jeongguk smile way more than it should. “We didn’t talk much
while I was in Korea, but we were pretty close before I left, and a few years ago, I came back to
France for the summer. It was my first time flying by myself, and I didn’t want to be alone so I
reached out to him - because he was living in Paris at the time - and I basically spent all of August
in his family house. Honestly, it was pretty nice - he had this massive garden with a pool outside,
and we spent every day in it. Well. I wasn’t in it - I was on the side looking pretty--”

“Uh huh.”

“--but you know.”

“Sure.”

“But all good things must come to an end, and being the gentleman that he was…”

“Étiennes always are,” Jeongguk says, with a serious nod of his head, and Taehyung gives him a
crooked grin.

“Right,” he agrees. “Being the gentleman that he was, he walked me to the airport on the day of
my flight back. On the way, we stopped at a shop so he could buy some stuff for his mum, one of
them being cling film - I only mention that because it is relevant to the story.”

“I’m sure, Kim - man of details.”

“Exactly. So, we had some time to kill before my flight, and we’re making out in the disabled
toilets, and you know remember being seventeen, right? All that perpetual horniness?”
“You say that like you’ve changed.”

“Shut up. Anyway. One thing led to another, and we kind of got carried away, but by the time we
had our pants pulled down, he realised he didn’t have any condoms, so...”

There’s a pause. “Oh my god.” Jeongguk blanches. “You used the--unbelievable...”

“Jeon.” Taehyung gives him a dry look.

“Jesus, you totally did!” He shakes his head. “God, that’s so... ineffective, what the fuck?”

“Jeon--”

“What, did you think the PVC would, like, fight off the sperm?”

“Could you just--”

“What kind of shitty DIY--”

“I’m the one telling the story,” Taehyung says coolly, but Jeongguk can tell by the gleam of light in
his eyes that he’s secretly pleased at the response, the scandalised expression on Jeongguk’s face.
Always giving Taehyung the reactions he wants, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He
concludes the tale with: “It felt like I had a wrapped sandwich inside me the entire time.”

And while Jeongguk definitely feels pity for him: “That’s still not as bad as my first time.”

“Beach sex?” Taehyung asks sympathetically.

Jeongguk sighs. “Fucking beach sex.”

The south of France is beautiful this time of year.

It’s quite chilly - and there’s a biting breeze when they step out of the hired car - but it’s still
warmer than Busan is during December, and there’s something enchanting about this place: the
winding country roads, the hilltop villages, the vast, flat fields.

It’s disorientating in a way, walking up the driveway to Taehyung’s farmhouse, because Jeongguk
feels like he’s been here before – has heard too many descriptions of it to feel otherwise. It’s as if
he’s opened this gate already, has heard its hoarse creak, has crunched his shoe into the gravel. The
actual building is very rustic – its stone exterior like that of a castle. It’s like he’s stepped into the
world of a fairytale, this protected bubble of magic.

“Huh, Cosette must have come by today already,” Taehyung says when they’re inside, noting the
filled-up dog bowls. “Shame - wanted you to meet her.”

“What’s she like?” Jeongguk muses, as he closes the door behind him.

“Stocky, and short-tempered and fiery.”

Somehow, that’s how he’d imagined her. “Got a thing for fiery women, huh?”

Taehyung beams at that. “Got a thing for fiery people.”

“Not sure I fit that description,” Jeongguk says. “I’m a sweetheart, so.”
“Uh huh.”

“Better treat me right.”

“Don’t I always?”

He goes to shrug his coat off when suddenly two Golden Retrievers come bounding into the
kitchen area, tails wagging like crazy, a scary sense of determination in their speed as they barrel
towards the two of them. Taehyung puts his hands to his face with a little stage gasp.

“Mes bébés.” He crouches down to their faces. “Ça va? Est-ce que je vous ai manqué, hmm?” One
of them does a little spin and his eyes squint with a bright smile. “Girls, this is Jeongguk,” he says.
“Jeongguk, the girls. I told him you’d be friendly, so don’t embarrass me, okay?” He scratches
behind their ears with a fondness that makes Jeongguk’s heart hurt. “Also, please don’t bite him,”
he continues. “That job's reserved for me only.”

God. “You’re shameless,” Jeongguk says with a roll of his eyes.

“You love it.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I tolerate it.”

“Nope.” And suddenly, Taehyung’s standing up again and circling Jeongguk’s wrist, tugging him
gently into a kiss that makes his whole body tingle, and somehow Jeongguk loves that he’s so good
at this - making him feel breathless like this. There’s a smug, little smile on his face when he pulls
away. “You love it,” he repeats, and honestly, it’s too early in the day for spontaneous combustion
so Jeongguk opts for pushing him away instead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says, “give me the tour already.”

Taehyung walks him through the living room, and the office, and the bathroom, opening each door
like there’s a grand reveal on the other side, and sure it’s an impressive house, but there was still an
unnecessary amount of arm flailing involved. When they return to the kitchen, the dogs look up at
Jeongguk with large, curious eyes. One of them pads over warily to sniff him, and then decides his
hand is the most interesting thing in the world and starts nosing at it with unbridled passion.

“What are their names?” he asks.

“That’s Fleur; the other one’s Bijou.”

Jeongguk scratches Fleur behind the ear like Taehyung had done and she thumps her tail happily
on the ground. “Your dogs are pretty cool.”

“Yeah, well.” Taehyung fills up a glass with tap water and takes a sip from it. “They have a cool
human.”

“Ooh,” he replies. “Questionable statement, that. Highly debatable.”

“Not wise to bite the hand that feeds you, Jeon. I’m cooking, remember?”

Jeongguk looks up at him with a scoff. “You’re gonna poison me?”

His eyes twinkle. “I’m gonna starve you.”

“Oh boy,” Jeongguk replies. “I’m sorry, O Great and Fearless Leader of the Farmhouse.”
Taehyung flexes his biceps slightly. “Better.” Then, he’s sliding a finger across the kitchen island
to inspect it. “Not as dusty as I’d expected,” he says approvingly. “Still, it’s gonna have to be
cleaner for the purpose we intend for it.”

Jeongguk walks over to him. “What are you saying, Kim? You wanna fuck me on the counters?”

“I wanna fuck you everywhere, Jeon. All the surfaces.”

“That... actually sounds kind of threatening.”

“I’m a dangerous man.”

“Mhmm hmm.”

“Seriously, be scared.” He nips at Jeongguk’s jaw teasingly. “Cuz the things I wanna do to you...”

“God, stop,” he says, with a laugh he hopes doesn’t sound too flustered. “Take me upstairs.”

“Yes sire - upwards and onwards we go.”

Taehyung’s childhood bedroom is a lot neater than he’d expected it to be. Basic décor - a striped
rug, a floor lamp, a picture above the bed. Classy in a minimalist way. The only true spot of colour
is the large bookshelf which has its own corner: rows and rows and rows of book spines, most of
them old and tattered now, pages dog-eared. It adds a little warmth to the place though, character -
the image of little Taehyung sitting cross-legged on the floor reading Le Pétit Prince to himself.

“I like the bay window,” Jeongguk says, walking across to it.

“Yeah, best thing about this place,” Taehyung replies. “You can see for miles up here.”

That you can: miles and miles of lavender fields - an endless expanse of purple. It’s kind of
magical. He still stands by what he said all those months ago: it’s eerily beautiful. Perfect but
lonely. Well. Maybe not so lonely, he thinks when Taehyung comes up to hug him from behind,
kisses him in a way that makes his toes curl up. Maybe not anymore.

But then Taehyung starts grinding down on him slowly, and Jeongguk can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asks, nose scrunching up.

“No,” Taehyung says, which is a blatant lie, but Jeongguk guesses that his sex drive is a force that
overrides any and every other part of his brain. He cups Jeongguk’s ass gently with one hand. “Are
you?”

“Eugh.” This guy. “Not anymore.” That makes him chuckle, and Jeongguk wants to say he hates
the way he sounds so pleased with himself, but really, he’d be lying.

He expects Taehyung to drag him over to the bed, climb on top of him, but he’s being
uncharacteristically acquiescent because he just kind of lies down on the mattress instead like he’s
waiting for something.

“You have a real problem executing your own ideas, don’t you?” Jeongguk says, looking
unimpressed as he straddles his thighs. “Why am I doing the heavy-lifting here?”

“It’s only fair you do the work some of the time,” Taehyung says.

“Sure, Kim.” He tugs at his jeans. “Off.”

Taehyung struggles to pull them down and kick them off, and then undoes Jeongguk’s zipper so he
has to do the awkward one-leg-at-a-time maneuver. They really should’ve considered the logistics
of this. Next time: stripping before bed - it’s simpler that way. Jeongguk goes to unbutton
Taehyung’s shirt, but the guy keeps leaning up on his elbows to kiss him and it’s cute but also,
Jeongguk’s got a fucking task in front of him and it’s hardly conducive.

When he’s gotten to the fifth one and Taehyung starts biting down his neck, Jeongguk laughs and
pushes him down again, wide palm holding him in place. “Fucking chill,” he says. “Let me get
you naked first.” Finally, the shirt comes off, and Taehyung’s hands come to rest on his waist,
rubbing small circles. Jeongguk breathes in slowly as he takes off his own t-shirt, feeling his body
melding with the hazy warmth of Taehyung’s touch. It’s always the small things that set him off -
the gentle stroking, the feather-light feel of Taehyung’s hands reaching up his stomach, skating
across his skin as his abs tense and relax under them, as his hips twitch forwards.

He hums a little, circling Taehyung’s wrists with his own hand and pinning them above his head,
and miraculously, Taehyung lets him. Well. He gives him a look, but he doesn’t do anything, so
you know: Jeongguk wins. “Hands still, Kim,” he says, readjusting his position in Taehyung’s lap.
“I’m supposed to be doing the work, yeah?”

Taehyung’s lips curl into something teasing. “Sure,” he says. “Get to it, then.”

“Fuck off.”

Taehyung goes to laugh at that, but his breath hitches slightly when Jeongguk ghosts over his
bulge. And then he’s placing a hand on it, palming him through the thin fabric, half-hard cock
slowly plumping to a full erection. He can feel the outline of it now - solid between his fingers -
and gives a squeeze that has Taehyung’s mouth falling open, teeth grazing against his bottom lip.
When Jeongguk does it again, he wriggles slightly - wrists twisting in Jeongguk’s grip - but then he
just relaxes into it, back arching at the touch before falling back against the mattress again.

Jeongguk smiles a litte. “You like this.”

He says it more conversationally than accustorily, but Taehyung still looks embarrassed when he
opens an eye to glance up at him. There’s a sweet confusion in his voice as he hums, “Hmm?”

“Being held down.”

Jeongguk hears Taehyung’s breath hitch again, and then he exhales - a shaky whimper - and god,
isn’t that a gorgeous sound. “I--” He laughs a little. “Shit, I guess. I dunno, it’s more...” Jeongguk
dips his fingers down again, brushes them against the tip of Taehyung’s cock, straining against his
boxers, if only to hear the ragged shit that leaves his lips. “I like--ngh, like that you’re strong. Like,
we both know you could dom the fuck out of me if you wanted, but you choose not to--dunno, it’s
just...”

He watches with evident impatience as Jeongguk circles a finger around the head, squirming at the
lack of pressure, but when he tries to wrestle out of the hold - grind up on him - Jeongguk tightens
his grip and he begrudgingly resigns, looking as pissed off as he does turned on.

“It’s hot,” he settles with eventually, a shy look on his face.

“It’s hot,” Jeongguk echoes back, amusement in his voice.

Taehyung’s response is a stony glare. “Jesus--shut up,” he retorts, but it comes out as breathy laugh
instead of anything actually intimidating. The sound goes straight to Jeongguk’s dick though, hits
him like a punch in the gut. God, this boy: fucking adorable. He starts canting his hips higher now,
rutting into Jeongguk’s palm with dogged determination. “Just...” He shifts his body, angles
himself slightly in the chase for more pressure, and his gaze falters for a moment. “Fuck, Jeon.
Yeah... love your” - he hiccups slightly as he tries to get the words out - “love your fucking hands.
God, you’re so...”

“You wanna finish a sentence anytime soon?” Jeongguk asks him, and he glowers again.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I just--hngh... stop teasing, fucking touch me, oh my god.” Jeongguk barks
in laughter at that.

This is kind of hot actually - Taehyung pink and flushed and babbling incoherently - and such an
odd experience for him because he rarely gets this. Rarely has Taehyung writhing underneath him
like this, compliant and responsive. Jeongguk wonders if it’s the jet lag, the tiredness, that’s
making him soft like this, relinquishing control. He’d never realised until this moment how
empowering it could be to pin someone down, hold them there, have them right where he wants
them. It makes the blood rush to his head a little, makes him feel giddy with it - dizzy.

Hooking his fingers around the waistband of Taehyung’s boxers, he slips his whole hand inside,
grabbing his length properly and feeling the wetness of the precome welling at the tip. Taehyung
sighs as he starts pumping. “Shit, Jeon, that... yeah.” Jeongguk strokes up and down, revels in the
way Taehyung cranes his neck back.

He takes the hand off his wrists now, but Taehyung doesn’t make an effort to move them - keeps
them pinned behind his head still - and for some reason, the sight makes heat pool in Jeongguk’s
stomach: gorgeous boy. Out of curiosity, he asks, “Would you ever let me top?”

It takes Taehyung a few seconds to register the question, too distracted by Jeongguk’s hands to
realise his lips are moving. He blinks for a few moments, eyes glassy, and there’s a look of mute
shock on his face. “I mean... yeah,” he says, a lazy smile on his lips. “Shit--duh, Jeon. I--” He
shifts around slightly as Jeongguk squeezes him at the base of his shaft, his eyes fluttering shut
again as he bites his lips, head lolling back; god, how can anyone be so sexy - Jeongguk cannot
comprehend it. “Yeah, I’d like that, I’m not picky...” Which is the world’s biggest lie, but alas: he
seems to be telling the truth in this instance.

His smile falters slightly as he looks back up at Jeongguk again. “What, today?” he asks.

Jeongguk considers it. This whole thing has been fun - getting Taehyung to squirm for him - but
honestly, he kind of just wants his hands on him again, wants to be looked after, wants Taehyung to
take care of him; anything else can wait. “Not today,” he says, and Taehyung grins at that.

“Like I said, I’m not picky.” He’s propping himself up on his elbows now, his head slanted
slightly. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll take you any way I can get you.” And then
he’s grabbing Jeongguk’s waist and rolling the two of them over so he’s on top. The motion is
smoother and slower than Jeongguk had expected - fluid, like water. God, he loves the way
Taehyung moves his body. He’s towering over him now, eyes framed by long lashes as he stares
down with a smile. “Just prefer you like this,” he purrs, and it’s such a lovely sound, and Jeongguk
thinks shit - yeah, me too. And then he’s leaning forward to give Jeongguk a kiss that melts into his
mouth like sugar.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks.

Anything. Anything Taehyung will give him. “Blow me,” Jeongguk murmurs, and the grin on
Taehyung’s face grows wider.
Jeongguk watches with half-lidded eyes as he sinks in between his thighs, and then he’s taking him
inside his mouth, and Jeongguk’s back arches clean off the bed because god that feels good.
Taehyung hums a little, makes him vibrate and shake all over again, and oh god, this can’t be
healthy. Every time they have sex, he feels like he’s about to explode. He’s going to have a heart
attack at twenty, and it’s going to be because Taehyung is too good at using his goddamn mouth.
This is it: this is how he dies.

And it’s not fair how good he looks even down there - cherry lips stretched around Jeongguk’s
dick, looking up at him through his dark hair, his pretty fucking eyes, the slight smirk in them as he
takes Jeongguk in deeper and further and wow, this is obscene - the sounds he’s making. It’s so
fucking dirty. He pulls off, lips glistening now with spit, and places a hand on the inside of
Jeongguk’s thighs.

“Spread, Jeon,” he says, and god - his voice. Deep and low and fucked out; at this point, Jeongguk
really might just wither away.

“Hmm?” he asks, feeling kind of ridiculous with how disorientated he is right now. He blinks
down at Taehyung, sweaty hair matted against his forehead.

“Your legs. Spread.”

“Oh... right.”

And really, it’s not like Taehyung needs better access - it’s not about that; it’s about getting
Jeongguk to do what he wants. Make him submit a little, make him pliant. Make him bend to
Taehyung’s will, and maybe Jeongguk should protest a little. Give him a fight - make things more
interesting. Except even now, with Taehyung looking up at him, he feels like putty in his hands.
Feels himself yield under the weight of his gaze, under the soft touch of the fingers on his skin.
God, he shouldn’t make it so easy for him, and yet here he is, spreading his legs apart, craning his
neck back, laying everything bare. Because Taehyung told him to. And maybe this is something
Jeongguk would’ve hated, but when that small smile flickers across Taehyung’s lips - that silent
thank you - he honestly thinks he doesn’t really care. To hell with having the upper hand; who
fucking needs it?

Taehyung swirls his tongue around Jeongguk’s tip maddeningly slowly, his hand reaching down to
pump at his cock, stroking it until a pearl of precome forms at the crown and it’s not enough, and
it’s making Jeongguk lose his mind.

“Take your time,” he murmurs.

Taehyung grins. “Don’t I always?”

“Unfortunately.” There’s a little stutter to the word though as Taehyung hitches up a leg to knead at
the swell of Jeongguk’s ass. He pulls at one of the cheeks, groans low at how easily it gives under
his fingers.

“Hard not to when you have a body like this.”

“God.” Jeongguk tries to roll his eyes; he thinks he half-succeeds. “Is that supposed to be a
compliment? Just suck my dick.”

“Ooh. Testy.”

“Cuz you ask for it.”

There’s a laugh in his voice as he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, still having the nerve to
look so goddamn coy as he blinks up at Jeongguk. “Have some patience, Jeon.”

“Mouth on dick, Kim.”

“Hmm. Maybe if you’re nice about it.”

Jeongguk reaches a hand down to sink his fingers into Taehyung’s soft, dark curls, tug at them
slightly, tilt his head back. Gain some leverage, maybe, as he says the word, “Please,” except it
doesn’t come out mean like he’d wanted it to. Just kind of breathless. Throaty.

The corners of Taehyung’s lips twitch slightly. “Good boy,” he whispers, and oh boy, Jeongguk is
a goner.

He makes good on his word though, closing his mouth around Jeongguk’s cock again, sinking
down slowly until the tip of it hits the back of his throat, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks. So
fucking vulgar; Jeongguk loves it. He repeats the motion, and then quickens, head bobbing so
beautifully as his throat works, cheeks flushed red and gorgeous, and god, what a fucking sight.

“Ngh,” Jeongguk sighs. “Gonna--oh fuck. I... hngh, gonna come--”

Taehyung pulls off at the words, face coming up, and Jeongguk considers knocking him over the
head with a blunt instrument because what the fuck?

“Dude,” he says, feeling winded and trying not to sound it. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t come yet,” Taehyung replies, and ordinarily, Jeongguk would protest but something about
Taehyung’s eyes stops him. Because the playfulness has melted into something darker and hotter -
something molten - and it lights a fire in Jeongguk’s belly, makes him go malleable and obedient
all over again.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Taehyung says, the warmth returning to his face, the softness. Jeongguk feels his heart
pound hard.

“Not gonna repeat it, Kim,” he says.

“Yeah, okay,” Taehyung laughs, and then he’s leaning forward to press a kiss onto the crown,
which makes Jeongguk squirm slightly because Jesus, is that supposed to be his reward or
something?

“Ew dude, don’t... kiss my dick.”

“But it’s beautiful.”

“Ohmygod.” Who says shit like that? “Don’t call my penis beautiful, you freak.”

Honestly, he’s impressed at how casually stupid sentences come out of Taehyung’s mouth.
Imagine being that resistant to embarrassment - mustn’t life be fucking nice.

Taehyung starts on his next mission: kissing Jeongguk on any stretch of skin he can find. He starts
with the inside of his thigh, and then works up his stomach, and along his collarbone, and finally
his jaw and all the while, Jeongguk can feel the blush on his neck bloom down the rest of his body,
feels himself go hot all over. Taehyung smirks slightly. “You’re so pink,” he coos.
“Yeah, because all my blood’s in my face instead of my dick, so. P-pretty sure that’s a failure on
your end.” But it’s hard to make the words sound snarky when Taehyung’s biting against his throat,
tongue hot against his skin.

Taehyung laughs and the sound of it makes Jeongguk want to melt into him. “Yeah, let’s fix that,”
he says, and he leans back to straddle his thighs again, takes Jeongguk’s aching cock into his
hands.

At this point, Jeongguk is wound up so tightly that any touch makes him jolt with pleasure, makes
him fucking shake, his hips canting up as Taehyung strokes him. He hisses, brings a hand to his
mouth to stop the wanton moan he knows is coming, but Taehyung catches his wrist. “Hey,” he
says, and it sounds like the equivalent of a stop that from a parent; the thought makes Jeongguk
snort a little. “Thought we were over the whole muffling sounds during sex thing. Fucking” - he
bounces on top of him without warning and Jeongguk wheezes - “make some noise for me, Jeon.”

Yeah, he remembers that conversation. It involved a lot of blushing on Jeongguk’s part, and a lot
of poking of Jeongguk’s cheeks to invoke more blushing on Taehyung's part, and then they’d
ended the night with Taehyung buried to the hilt within him so deep that all he could do was twitch
and sob his name. In Jeongguk’s mind, it was the closest thing he was ever going to get to a
religious experience.

“Just--ah--don’t want it going to your head,” he murmurs, once he’s gotten his breath back; that
assault kind of hurt, what the hell.

“Everything you do for me goes to my head."

“I’ve created a monster.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Taehyung beams. “Your fault entirely.” And then he’s flicking his wrist and
Jeongguk momentarily loses it, hips jerking erratically at the sudden heat that courses through him.
Everything just feels so heightened, like he’s experiencing it tenfold, and he can’t help the broken
whimper that comes out this time. So loud. Shit, it just feels so good, and he’s so fucking close,
and--

“God, you should see yourself right now,” Taehyung murmurs. “How fucking ruined you are.”
And there’s a snarl to it, a bite. He looks pleased when Jeongguk moans at that, watches as he
throws his head back against the pillow, thigh muscles twitching at the praise. “Look at you, all
spread out for me--yeah, so lovely for me, Jeon.” And then he’s trailing his hands up Jeongguk’s
chest, taking a nipple in between his fingers. Pinching it until it hardens. Teasing it. Making
Jeongguk delirious. “Wanna keep you here like this forever,” Taehyung breathes, and that makes
him laugh despite everything.

“What are you saying, Kim? You wanna tie me up?”

He’d said it jokingly, but the look Taehyung gives him back is anything but. “Depends,” he says,
voice low. “Would you let me?”

Fuck. “Yeah,” Jeongguk replies. The word falls out of his mouth before he can even think about it.
At this point, he’d let Taehyung do just about anything to him - anything he wants. The thought
would be scary if he didn’t trust Taehyung to not abuse that power - the control he has over him.

The older boy groans at that, scraping his teeth across Jeongguk’s throat. “Yeah?” he sighs, places
a kiss to the corner of Jeongguk’s lips. “Shit Jeon, you’re too good to me. So fucking good.
Always. You’re so...” He takes the two of them in his hand now, thumbing their heads, stroking
them together, his back arching desperately as he grinds down. He looks so devastatingly
handsome like this - hair wild and matted, eyes dark and hooded, lips parted and swollen and oh so
fucking irresistible; Jeongguk feels light-headed.

“Wanna--ngh...” He flicks his wrist again, revels in the way Jeongguk moans and shudders beneath
him. “God, you’re so sexy. So fucking nice for me--I wanna... fuck, you have no idea...”

“‘M close,” Jeongguk groans, surprised he’s able to make his mouth move, get the words out.

“Yeah, me too,” Taehyung says, with a breathy laugh. And then he’s groaning again, gripping
tighter, dragging his hand dangerously fast down Jeongguk’s length. “Yeah Guk, come for me.”
Jeongguk feels his hips stutter at the nickname, the affection behind it. Guk. “Wanna see it... let me
hear you.”

Jeongguk comes at the words--hard. He feels his body go stiff, and then he’s spilling white over
Taehyung’s knuckles, shaking and quivering and reduced to a fucking mess as Taehyung strokes
him through it. He kind of wants to laugh at how ridiculous he feels right now - so light and airy,
like he could float - and as he lies there, boneless, he can feel Taehyung staring at him, hears the
soft growl at the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Let me come on your face.”

Jeongguk just groans weakly. “Okay.”

The older boy stalls for a moment to look at him, like he wasn’t actually expecting Jeongguk to
comply. There’s unadulterated glee in his face as he says, “Really?”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Fucking do it before I take it back, Kim.”

“Nope. No take backsies, Jeon.” He places a wide palm on Jeongguk’s chest, pushes him against
the mattress - not that Jeongguk would’ve had the strength to fight him off anyway. There’s
something taunting in Taehyung’s gaze as he holds him down, his other hand wrapped around his
cock - flush and thick against his belly. He smiles menacingly. “Watch,” he says, and Jeongguk
does. Can’t take his eyes off him. His head is haloed by the light streaming in through the window.
Lean muscle under tan skin. Unreal.

And when he’s close, he hooks an arm under Jeongguk’s shoulder to sit him up and face him, eyes
fluttering closed as he comes. On Jeongguk’s cheeks, his chin, his jaw. It’s a weirdly nice
sensation - wet and warm. Taehyung rubs the head of his cock along Jeongguk’s fat bottom lip,
lazy motions, and maybe it should be demeaning but Jeongguk finds he’s too lost in it to care -
enjoying it too much. Then, Taehyung’s trails two fingers through the mess on Jeongguk’s face,
his smile gleaming with something wicked and delightful - a wordless ask of permission.

“Shit’s gross,” Jeongguk winces, but he still lets Taehyung stick his fingers inside his mouth, sucks
at the tip, revels in the way Taehyung’s eyes darken at the sight. He looks like he’s been punched
in the gut, pupils dilated and dangerous.

“Fuck...” he murmurs, but he doesn’t say anything else, just stares - shocked and silent. Then, after
a long pause, the corners of his lips perk up and he’s smiling and Jeongguk feels his throat constrict
because god, isn’t that breathtaking. “You’re incredible,” he sighs, although Jeongguk doesn’t
know if he’s actually addressing him because he says it so softly, like it’s a secret, like he’s
thinking it out loud. He says it so reverently, as if it’s a prayer, and all Jeongguk can do in response
is tremble as his heart hammers hard against his paper ribcage.
They take a shower afterwards - Taehyung stealing hot kisses under the warm water - and then
spend the rest of the afternoon sleeping, soft skin pressed together.

Dec 29

Esmée’s at the front door and Jeongguk doesn’t know what to do.

“Hi,” he says, dumbly, because he’s fucking dumb.

“Hi,” she replies, and there’s oddly no animosity behind it, which honestly, Jeongguk is all for
because he only woke up ten minutes ago – which means he’s very much not awake – and he’s not
emotionally equipped for a battle right now. She doesn’t even seem surprised that he’s in France,
just kind of suspicious; her eyes narrow as she looks over Jeongguk’s shoulder past where his body
is caged in the doorframe (with her stature, she has to crane her neck quite high to do so – it’s kind
of funny. Jeongguk would snort, but she might snap his bones like twigs, so).

“I’m just here to drop off a present for Tae,” she explains, waving one of the bags she’s carrying in
her hand. “His mum said he landed yesterday, and I’m heading up to Nantes now for a week.
Visiting a friend.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can, erm…” Give it to him for you was how he was going to finish that sentence, but a part of
him feels like Esmée won’t actually leave until she gets what she wants – mostly likely to enter the
establishment and ruin Jeongguk’s fucking morning. “Taehyung’s not awake yet.”

“I can wait.”

Of course she can. “Do you... wanna come inside?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She waltzes straight to the kettle on the counter, starting to boil some water, and grabbing a mug.
Jeongguk tries not to think about how comfortable she looks right now, making tea in Taehyung’s
home - they’ve known each other longer; it doesn’t mean anything.

He hates how awkward he automatically feels in her presence though, unsure of what to do with
himself. He was sitting at the island before, but now he just feels too uncomfortable to, with her
pottering around a metre away. God, fuck her. She doesn’t even have the upper hand anymore, why
is he letting her make him feel small? Why is he making himself feel small?

He walks over to the island again - where he was eating a piece of toast before - feeling oddly
defiant now, feeling like he has something to prove (now then: how does one eat toast
aggressively?) They don’t speak for a further five minutes. Esmée just opens cupboards
unnecessarily loudly, and Jeongguk stares down at his phone screen (which, he realises, is actually
his haven and has saved him from many an awkward scenario by giving him something to do with
his hands. God bless phones, man - seriously, what heroes). He listens to Esmée’s footsteps on the
floor, listens to the gentle roar of the water boiling, listens to the way she rhythmically taps the
worktop with her spoon. Listens to her say:

“We didn’t do anything that night. By the way.”

Jeongguk doesn’t look up. It takes him a moment to even realise what she’s talking about. “...
okay.”

“I tried to initiate things obviously, but he...” She gives a snort, but it’s more one of derision than
amusement. “Couldn’t even touch me. He was just...” She takes a tea bag out of the box and plops
it into the mug. “He chose you is what I’m trying to say, so congrats.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t really know what to say. (‘Cool’? Do they shake hands now or something?)
“Erm--”

“And this isn’t a reconciliation,” she continues, gaze cold again. “Don’t get it twisted. But
Taehyung was really upset that night - he thought you were fed up with him - and he wouldn’t stop
crying, and I told his mum it was just the drinks, but Jesus Christ, it wasn’t the drinks, and...” She
stops for a second to sigh. Shakes her head. “I’m just... glad he worked things out with you.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk says again because really, what's articulation good for? “Why are you, erm...
saying all this?”

Esmée raises an eyebrow, and he instinctively feels on alert, like an animal with raised hackles, but
then she just shrugs and the tension resides again. “Because,” she says. “I’m not a sore loser. And,
despite what I’m sure Yoongi would love you to believe, I’m not a stone-cold bitch either, so.” Her
voice wavers slightly at the end of that sentence, and Jeongguk finally chances looking up at her.
It’s a strange sight actually, seeing her slouch slightly against the counters.

“I know I was horrible before,” she continues, “but anyone would go to great lengths to protect
something they think is theirs - that’s what war is. But Taehyung doesn’t belong to me. He isn’t
mine, and it wasn’t my place to... you know. I just want him to be happy. And I thought I was the
only one who could give him that, which--presumptuous maybe...”

She chews her lip for a moment. “I don’t know, I always thought Taehyung and I were endgame, I
suppose. That despite all the one-night stands and mistakes and fuck-ups he made, it couldn’t touch
us - what we had. He’d mature, and realise it was me and him all along. Like it’s always been -
Taehyung and Esmée against the world and--” She holds her cheek in her palm as she snorts to
herself, voice low now. “And... despite everything, I still want him to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever
wanted for him. I guess I never accounted for the fact that his happiness didn’t necessarily involve
me.”

Jesus Christ, it’s too early for this shit.

Jeongguk is almost grateful when the kettle finishes boiling and the click of it shakes Esmée
awake again. She grabs her mug, and makes the cup of tea in silence, sniffing as she does so and
god, is she crying? Please don’t be crying. Should Jeongguk say something? He probably should.
Right? Right. Shit.

“I’m... sorry,” is what he settles with. Solid response, really.

Esmée laughs again, breathy and anxious. “Jesus, it’s fine - don’t be nice to me.”

“Kind of hard not to when you’re sobbing.”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeats, with a shrug. A tear rolls down her cheek. “Eventually. Like Oscar Wilde
said, ‘hearts are made to be broken’. What’s life without a bit of headache?”

“I’ve never read any Oscar Wilde.”

“And Taehyung likes you anyway,” she replies.

“God knows why.” He’s not very sure why he says that. Because self deprecation is his automatic
default? Because the reality of Esmée being upset and actually showcasing human emotions is
honestly making him feel too uneasy for his liking? Because he wants to comfort her, maybe?
Honestly, this whole situation is getting more surreal by the minute.

She smiles slightly at that, but it’s a wry one. “Well,” she says. “I guess he knows. And that’s all
that matters... really.”

Yeah. That’s... yeah. True.

They fall silent for a moment before Esmée speaks up again. “So, about that raincheck,” she says,
grabbing another mug off the counter. “I'm cashing it in, do you want a cup?” And Jeongguk thinks
that’s the closest thing to a kind gesture he’s ever going to get from her, so he accepts.

Esmée stares down at the mug while she makes the drink, and Jeongguk sneaks glances at her
every few minutes before darting his gaze back down to his phone to avoid being called out for it.
She just looks so... small. Well. She is small, but now she actually seems it, and whoa--is Jeongguk
feeling pity for her? That was never on the agenda. And yet here he is, staring at his broken mirror
image, understanding her sadness - somehow sharing it. Eugh: fuck empathy. Still though, he kind
of wants to give her a hug. He also thinks that she’d wrench his arm back and break it if he
attempted one, so he decides against it.

When she hands him the tea, he gives her a quiet, “Thanks,” and takes it. “What is this stuff?” he
asks, holding the mug to his nose to smell it.

“Erm, cinnamon something,” Esmée replies. She reads the packaging on the box. “Ginger
cinnamon tea.”

“Oh.” He takes a sip. “It’s nice. It...” He falters for a moment because this probably isn’t what
they’re meant to be doing - Esmée probably doesn’t want to talk to him - but she’s not exactly
being hostile right now, so maybe he should just try and mirror her mood, not overthink things too
much. “Reminds me of these cookies we get from a café back in Sunyeong. Brown sugar and
cinnamon - love that stuff.”

“I know,” she says. When Jeongguk gives her a confused look, she adds, “Taehyung told me. He
took me there last year, and he bought us some, and he said, ‘These are Jeongguk’s favourites,’ and
I wondered to myself: what made him think to tell me that? And then I thought: oh you dumb fuck,
you’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

Well. What the hell does Jeongguk say to that?

There’s a beat of silence, and then Esmée is laughing to herself quietly, embarrassed. What a weird
emotion to see on her face - it almost doesn’t fit it. “They were my favourites too, in the end,” she
says. Then, she purses her lips and adds musingly, “We’re not so different. We could’ve been
friends, you and I.”

“Oh?” Jeongguk arches an eyebrow in curiosity. “And that’s something that can’t happen
anymore?”

“Not likely,” she admits. “I resent you.”

And the bluntless of it is enough to make Jeongguk burst out laughing. “Erm... fair enough?” She
returns a smile herself - a small one - the first real one Jeongguk’s ever gotten from her, and it
gives him the bravery to ask, “Did you guys ever go to France... in the end?”

She looks up from her tea, eyes narrowed slightly, but there’s a playfulness to her tone when she
says, “God, what do you think?” She finishes the drink off and places it in the sink before
checking the time on her watch. “He’s not waking up any time soon, is he?” Then with a dramatic
sigh, she announces, “Ben. Should probably be catching my taxi now instead of fraternising with
the enemy. Farewell, Jeongguk - let Taehyung know I stopped by.”

“Will do. I’d say ‘have a good time’, but I don’t think you want to hear that from me.”

“Yeah, you’d definitely jinx it.” She grabs her travel bag. “I appreciate the sentiment though.”
Then, she’s walking towards the door. “And Jeongguk,” she says, hand hovering over the handle.

“Hmm?”

He turns around to face her again, to look at her. Properly look at her. She really is beautiful, and
there’s the faintest trace of a smile on her face, but her eyes are so fucking sad.

“Look after him for me,” she says, and then she’s gone.

Dec 30

Jeongguk wakes Taehyung up at midnight.

At first, he’s disorientated and pissed off, but then he remembers where he is, realises that the cold
on his cheek is from a beer can that Jeongguk’s pressed to his face. He laughs a little, his voice still
throaty with sleep.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs, staring down at him.

“Hi,” he murmurs back. He sits up properly, his golden limbs stretched out as he leans himself
back against the headboard.

“Doubt there are any mountains in Provence,” Jeongguk says, “so I guess this will have to be
enough.”

Taehyung looks at him for a moment. “It is,” he says, softly. “This is-- you’re--” He shakes his
head slightly - a hidden smile tucked away behind his lips - embarrassed at his stuttering. “Sorry.
I’m tired.”

“It’s chill.”

“I kinda...” He opens the beer can, fingers shaking slightly. “Kinda feel like crying, is that weird?”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just presses a kiss to his lips - soft and chaste and pure - and Taehyung
sighs heavily, like he’s trying to breathe in Jeongguk’s air and share it. He nuzzles his nose into his
neck, and there’s something so impossibly gentle about it, something that makes Jeongguk want to
break open, come undone.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles. He falls quiet, and for a moment, Jeongguk thinks that he is
crying, but then he’s leaning back, a wicked smile on his face. “Does this mean I’m getting freaky
birthday sex today?”
Shameless, always. “Sure Kim, freakiest shit you can imagine.”

Taehyung makes a low, pleased hum. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jeon,” he says. “You
don’t even know what I want from you yet.”

Jeongguk snorts, and then he feels Taehyung’s hand trail his sides, travelling further down, fingers
rubbing on the waistband of his boxers and then gently curling--

“Jesus, not yet,” Jeongguk says, giving him a small slap. He grabs his own beer can off the
bedside table and opens it while Taehyung pouts at him petulantly (cute). “We have the whole day
- don’t tire yourself out from the start.”

“I think you grossly underestimate my stamina, Jeon.”

“I think I really don’t.” Taehyung’s frown deepens, and Jeongguk laughs. “Come on, give it an
hour and I’ll let you do what you want with me. Can we just sit here for now, I dunno...” He shifts
himself so they’re facing each other directly now. The moonlight from the bay window illuminates
the room with this silver glow that bounces off Taehyung’s face, shadows dancing on his skin as
he smiles softly in the gloom. “Thought you were a romantic, Kim.”

“I am,” he whispers, and then his hand is coming up to cup Jeongguk’s cheek. He runs a thumb
down his jaw, and the intimacy of it warms Jeongguk like no blanket ever could - makes his chest
tight with happiness. Taehyung leans forwards, presses a kiss to his nose, and it’s so dumb, but it
makes Jeongguk smile like a stupid motherfucker and he adores it.

“You’re perfect,” Taehyung murmurs.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

His eyes glint wildly, as if that's a challenge he’s willing to accept. “I love you,” he says, and oh-
-oh. Maybe that was something he did know already, but still, hearing it - hearing the words come
out of his mouth like that, so casually - does something to Jeongguk’s frail little heart. Makes it
tremble.

“Don’t make it sappy, Kim,” he replies, and Taehyung snorts.

“Right. Fuck feelings.”

“Good motto.”

He presses a kiss to Jeongguk’s knuckle, relentless as always. “I love you,” he says again, and
Jeongguk just about explodes.

“Jesus--I...” He takes in a shuddery breath, wonders how pink he is right now, why he’s so
goddamn flustered. “Me too. Obviously.”

Maybe he was asking too much of himself when he’d expected a smooth confession; he’s an
abomination. Still, Taehyung’s eyes shine at that, like they’re moons themselves - large, and
expressive and bright. “Cool,” he says, his lips still on the ridges of Jeongguk’s knuckles - soft
touch on tough skin.

“Cool,” Jeongguk echoes, getting lost in his eyes, and then feeling dumb for doing so, and then
realising that he’s allowed to - he can indulge himself a little - and it’s only the two of them here
anyway so for once in his life, maybe he shouldn’t be embarrassed about just feeling something.
 Besides. He likes the way Taehyung stares at him a little too much, doesn’t think he’ll ever get
used to it. He looks at Jeongguk like he doesn’t want anything else - like there is nothing else - like
Jeongguk is enough for him and that--that is more than enough for Jeongguk.

FIN

Chapter End Notes

Fin = the end, and if you made it this far, then you’re a real one, and you deserve the
world, and I’m very grateful :3

Comments and feedback are super, duper loved my gems - thank you for reading ^^

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