Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

🎯

Jeon Jeongguk, now in uni, had liked Kim Namjoon since high school—not that it’s relevant. Or reciprocated. Or healthy. But hey, it’s college. People major in worse mistakes.

For years, Jeongguk’s accepted his place in the social food chain: standing at Namjoon’s side, occasionally pretending not to notice the way Namjoon’s eyes 'always' drift towards their mutual best friend, Jung Hoseok—the golden boy. Human sunshine with a laugh so contagious it should come with a warning label.

And sure, it hurts. A little. But fuck it—Hoseok’s impossible not to like, and Jeongguk’s made his peace with that. He’ll keep pining in the background while Namjoon pines in a slightly more optimistic one. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Until 'he' showed up.

Kim Taehyung.

Tall. Ridiculously good-looking. Hoseok's childhood best friend who just got back from studying in the U.S., apparently fluent in three languages and flirting. He shows up on campus looking like he walked out of a fashion magazine that only features people with perfect bone structure and mysterious pasts.

Within a week of transferring into their university, Taehyung's already back in Hoseok’s orbit like he never left—laughing at his jokes, clinging to his side, stealing bites of his food like boundaries are a myth.

Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind. Namjoon definitely does. And Jeongguk—who was already barely holding it together with metaphorical duct tape and a prayer—starts losing the damn plot—fast.

Which brings us to the house party; Taehyung’s grand return celebration—because apparently Hoseok throws parties now when pretty people come back into his life.

Everything’s mostly chill—until Jeongguk sees Taehyung with his head tipped back, laughing at something Hoseok whispered. His arm’s slung over Hoseok’s shoulder like it naturally belongs there. Hoseok’s practically leaning into him. 

And Namjoon? Sitting alone on a bean bag, drinking his sadness like he’s savoring existential dread on the rocks.

And that’s it. 

Jeongguk decides Taehyung is the problem.

So... he waits—lurks, really—until Taehyung’s alone. Maybe headed to the bathroom. Maybe just wandering off to take a breath before someone else imprints on him like it’s Twilight. Either way, Jeongguk follows.

And then he confronts him.

Basically, Jeongguk implies (not-so-subtly) that Taehyung’s ruining everything. That his touchy-feely Hoseok routine is making things weird. That maybe, just maybe, Taehyung’s whole ‘I’m nice and everyone loves me’ vibe isn’t as cute as he thinks it is.

Then it happens.

Taehyung starts crying.

Like—actual fucking tears. Full breakdown. In the hallway. At a party. From a man who, just moments ago, looked like the face of a cologne ad and had half the room wrapped around his finger. Now he’s got watery eyes, a trembling chin, and the kind of emotional collapse usually reserved for bad breakups and Nicholas Sparks movies.

Jeongguk stares at him in horror. This is not what he signed up for, alright? People like Kim Taehyung don’t cry; they pose, they smirk, and they walk in slow motion with wind in their hair. They definitely don’t break down just because Jeongguk got a little cranky and said some mildly bitchy things with his arms crossed like a discount Bond villain.

And of course, as luck would have it, Namjoon is nearby. Hoseok is definitely on his way back. 

And Jeongguk just made everyone's new favorite person cry.

Panic sets in.

Jeongguk tells Taehyung to shut up.

That does nothing.

So he does the first truly moronic thing that his brain, drunk on panic and pettiness, coughs up.

He kisses him.

And yeah... that finally shuts Taehyung up.

Which is great.

Except now Taehyung's blushing—wide-eyed, cheeks pink, looking at Jeongguk like he just got personally attacked by some big movie plot twist.

Hoseok’s staring. 

Namjoon (probably) saw the whole thing.

And Jeongguk? Yeah. He’s spiraling.

***

<You can play this as you read.>

Good Luck, Babe!

.

.

.

Shit.

Jeongguk was frozen. His brain had officially stopped working, and unfortunately, it had done so at the exact same time his mouth decided to commit social suicide by kissing Kim Taehyung of all people. 

Taehyung, who looked just as stunned as Jeongguk felt, stood there blinking like he was waiting for a director to yell cut . At least he wasn’t crying anymore—small victory—but Jeongguk wasn’t entirely sure if that was better. 

Tears he could maybe handle; silent, wide-eyed disbelief? That was a death sentence. He’d basically dug his own grave and buried himself in it, all in the span of about three seconds.

Yeah. Shit.

Jeongguk wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing. His lungs felt like they’d closed up shop, and meanwhile, he could practically feel Hoseok’s stare burning into the side of his face. Namjoon was across the room on that beanbag chair, frozen mid-sip with his drink, eyes wide and mouth half-open like someone had just spoiled the finale of a drama he’d been binging. 

Jeongguk swore he saw the exact second Namjoon’s expression tipped from shock into the dangerous territory of ‘is this hilarious, or am I too drunk for this?’

And Taehyung. Fucking hell, Taehyung was flushed pink from his collarbones up, ears burning, lashes wet, the corners of his eyes still red from crying. He looked… fragile. (Yeah, because apparently six feet of muscle could look fragile—what the fuck?) And Jeongguk, who had ripped into him barely ten minutes ago, had somehow managed to make it worse by shutting him up with a kiss.

Jeongguk watched in mounting horror as Taehyung lifted a hand, almost on instinct, brushing his fingers over his mouth like he couldn’t believe it had just happened. Which is fair, honestly. Jeongguk couldn’t believe it had happened either, and he was the idiot who did it.

Fuck. He probably looked ten times more stupid standing there frozen, so Jeongguk did what he did best: he bailed. He exhaled sharply, tried to play it off with this pathetic excuse of a smirk, shook his head like the whole thing had been some big joke, and turned for the door before anyone could actually demand an explanation.

Except Hoseok blocked him, because of course he would. He grabbed Jeongguk’s arm, brows furrowed, smile twitching like he didn’t know whether to laugh or stage an intervention. “Uh—what the hell was that, Guk?” Hoseok asked, half-whisper, half-choke.

Jeongguk then forced out a laugh that sounded faker than his freshman-year excuse for missing a morning lecture. “Nothing, Hyung. That was nothing. Relax.” Jeongguk said as he pulled his arm away, shaking his head. “I’m drunk. That’s all. I need air.” He added and he didn’t wait for a reply. He simply slipped past Hoseok, avoiding Namjoon’s eyes and Taehyung’s very stunned, very pink face, and made a beeline for the exit like his life depended on it.

<...>

Jeongguk left the party like a man escaping a crime scene—fast, quiet, and praying nobody followed. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kept his head down, though it wasn’t like that helped, because inside his head it was chaos. His legs carried him on autopilot back towards campus, but everything else about him—eyes unfocused, shoulders slumped, expression blank—screamed dumb fucking zombie.

He bumped into at least three people on the sidewalk, and didn’t say sorry once. One guy even muttered something rude, another gave him a look, and Jeongguk didn’t even flinch. He just kept trudging forward, like he was starring in a low-budget horror movie where the monster was his own dumb decisions.

And God, was he mad. Not even at Taehyung—no, Taehyung was the last person to blame here this time. Jeongguk was mad at himself, and it had already gone so far past anger that it was circling back into something that almost felt funny. Almost. Because really, who would do that? 

Who would kiss someone they were actively fighting with, someone they claimed to hate, someone they’d literally just made cry? Apparently Jeon Jeongguk would. Hah… Fantastic. Bravo. Someone give him an award.

There, Jeongguk let out a breath that sounded too much like a laugh and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the sky like the stars might blink back down at him and explain what the hell was wrong with him. 

Well, they didn’t. 

Instead, he stood there and started laughing—quietly at first, just sharp little bursts under his breath—but it built fast, spilling out of him until it turned into this weird, manic-sounding cackle that had a couple walking past him crossing the street just to avoid him. Great. 

Now he’s not only stupid, but creepy too. Wow, perfect combo.

He then pressed the heel of his hand against his face, trying to muffle it, but the laughter kept coming anyway, and honestly, if the ground decided to split open beneath him right then, he would’ve gladly swan-dived straight in. Maybe he could just set up shop underground and never show his face again. He’d probably make a decent mole person.

Because really—how was he supposed to face Namjoon tomorrow? Namjoon, who had watched the whole disaster unfold from the corner like he was front row at some tragic performance art piece? How was he supposed to face Hoseok, who was probably already trying to come up with the most diplomatic way to bring it up? 

And most importantly, how the actual fuck was he supposed to face Kim Taehyung, who had looked at him with wide, tear-stained eyes like Jeongguk had just dropped a drama finale twist directly onto his face?

“Fucking hell,” Jeongguk muttered into the night air, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Can somebody fuckin' kill me already?!”

The universe, unhelpfully, stayed silent.

So, Jeongguk walked on, still grinning like an idiot, still half-laughing—half-crying to himself, and hating every second of it.

***

<You can play this as you read.>

Please Please Please

Jeongguk honestly had no idea how he’d even managed to sleep last night. By all logic, his brain should’ve kept him awake replaying the disaster reel of him kissing Kim Taehyung in front of, oh , just literally everyone. But somehow he’d knocked out, and now here he is—still alive, technically rested, and cursed with memory. 

He hadn’t even drunk that much at the party, so he couldn’t blame it on alcohol poisoning. No pounding headache, no nausea. Jeongguk's body felt fine. His head, however, was the problem. He would’ve traded every organ in his body for a good old-fashioned hangover if it meant he didn’t have to deal with his thoughts.

Still, Jeongguk went through his usual routine like nothing had happened. Jog, shower, breakfast, coffee—an entire performance of normalcy. He was in school an hour earlier than necessary, which was stupid, but then again so was he, so it felt on brand. 

Then, he stopped in front of a vending machine, debating hydration, and came out with a lemon soda. It fizzed in his hand like it knew it wasn’t beer and resented him for it. 

And just because he felt like it and he could, Jeongguk banged his forehead against the vending machine, hoping for the sweet release of unconsciousness, but no—he’s still standing, still alive, still fucking stupid.

And probably because the universe enjoyed kicking him while he was already face down, Namjoon and Hoseok appeared like two benevolent professors of friendship catching their student cheating on an exam.

“Guk? You good?” Namjoon’s voice was warm, annoyingly gentle, you know, the kind of tone that made people confess their crimes? Yeah, that. While beside him, Hoseok chuckled. 

“Man, that looked like it hurt. What’d the vending machine do to you?”

Jeongguk then straightened up fast, forcing his face into something that vaguely resembled composure. “Ugh, give me a break, hyung. I’m still half-asleep.” He groaned as he cracked open his soda and took a long sip, mostly so he had something to do other than make eye contact. 

And there, Jeongguk prayed to every deity available that neither of the two would bring up the party.

Naturally, the gods laughed in his face.

“So…” Namjoon nudged his shoulder, playfully, though Jeongguk was so tense he stumbled anyway, coughing mid-sip and splattering soda across his shirt. “You and Tae, huh?”

Jeongguk practically drowned on carbonation, hacking up lemon soda like it had staged a coup in his throat. “Fuck—”

“Hey, hey!” Namjoon sputtered as he started to gently pat Jeongguk’s back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, totally!” Jeongguk wheezed, wiping at his mouth and nose, feeling his shirt sticking to him. “Don’t worry about me. I had, uh, too much coffee earlier. That’s all. I’m wired. Really. Fine. Great. Fantastic. Peachy.” Jeongguk sputtered, his laugh was about three notches higher than his usual range, and Hoseok and Namjoon traded the kind of look people shared when they silently agreed their friend was having some sort of breakdown.

“You sure?” Hoseok asked carefully, scratching at his brow. His tone had softened, which was somehow worse than teasing. “Because if this is about Tae, you don’t have to hide it, man. Like—yeah, it was surprising, but if that’s what’s going on, we’re happy for you. Tae’s one of my closest friends, he’s like my baby, you know that. He’s a good guy. Just… take care of him, alright?”

Oh, Jeongguk just wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “No—I mean, it wasn’t—”

And then, of course, Taehyung himself decided to show up with an entourage: Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, and Kim Seokjin, his blockmates, beside him—and Jeongguk’s brain shut down on sight. 

It was like the party had come back to life in his head: the music, the neon lights, Taehyung’s tears. Those stupid, cinematic tears that looked like they’d been storyboarded by a drama director. 

Seriously, no man had the right to cry that attractively. It was unfair, like his face hadn’t already done enough damage.

Their eyes locked, and Jeongguk’s lungs forgot how to function. He remembered the kiss, remembered how soft Taehyung’s lips had been, the faint gasp he’d let slip, the stunned expression that hadn’t faded even after Jeongguk had pulled away. 

And now, standing in the hallway with half the population of Jeongguk's nightmares watching, Taehyung was looking at him the same way again—wide-eyed, cheeks pink, mouth slightly open like he was waiting for something Jeongguk absolutely had no business giving him.

So, Jeongguk did the only thing he knew how to do. He bailed— again . Just like what he did last night.

Oh, yes he did!

Puh-lease , as if he had any other choice. 

His head’s a mess, and his thoughts are in even worse shape. 

Of-fucking-course, he’d run away.

He spun on his heel and walked off, ignoring Namjoon and Hoseok calling after him, ignoring the fact that everyone was probably staring. One step, two step, three step—next thing he knew, he was running. Running like a lunatic, out of the building and into fresh air, to nowhere in particular. All he knew was that if he stayed another second, he’d combust from pure embarrassment.

<...>

<You can play this as you read.>

Gameboy

Jeongguk had no clue how far he ran or how many people he nearly bowled over along the way, but eventually he found himself at the back of their department’s building, bent forward with his palms braced against his knees like he’d just finished some kind of marathon he hadn’t signed up for. His lungs burned, his shirt clung to his back, and all he could get out between gasps was a medley of ‘fuck, shit, fuck, shit,’ on repeat, like a broken record playing his greatest hits. 

If he were the type of guy to cry over things like this, Jeongguk would probably already be on the ground, full knees-to-the-pavement breakdown, ugly-sobbing into the dirt. But no, he’s twenty-two, a full grown adult, with at least the illusion of dignity and a semi-decent reputation, so he told himself he wouldn’t stoop that low—yeah… not today. 

Instead, he kicked at a loose rock like some sulky middle schooler and tried to convince himself that counted as an acceptable coping mechanism.

He straightened up eventually, still panting, rubbing at his face like maybe he could physically smear the memory of the last twelve hours off of it. And that’s when he heard it—that voice. Familiar, deep, annoyingly pleasant even when it was ragged with breath.

“Hey.”

Oh, no. Oh, absolutely not.

Jeongguk’s head then snapped around so fast he was surprised his neck didn’t crack. And there was Kim Taehyung, also out of breath, chest rising and falling as if he’d sprinted here too, hair sticking adorably out of place, wiping sweat off his forehead like he was about to star in a sports drink commercial. 

Honestly, screw that face. Screw those flushed cheeks. Screw those lips. How was Jeongguk supposed to function as a human being when the guy in front of him looked like a live-action Pocari Sweat poster?

“Huh?” was all Jeongguk managed to let out, which, in the grand catalog of things he could’ve said, ranked somewhere between useless and completely stupid.

There, Taehyung simply tilted his head, still catching his breath. “Why’d you run away like that?”

And because god apparently loved to toy with him, Jeongguk’s mouth decided to go rogue. He forced a scoff, tried to twist his lips into what he hoped resembled a confident smirk, and said, “Me? Run away? Nah. I was just… exercising. You know. Cardio.” Jeongguk mumbled, fuck, he even added a laugh at the end—if you could call the strangled noise that escaped him a laugh.

Oh, perfect. He really nailed that one. Cardio. Seriously??! Never mind the fact that Jeongguk had already run his actual morning route hours ago. Never mind the fact that it was painfully obvious he had bolted from the scene like a criminal ditching a crime. Cardio??? Hah… Genius. 

Jeongguk thought that he really should’ve just grabbed that rock he’d just kicked and knocked himself out with it.

Taehyung then blinked at him, hands settling on his waist like a mom about to scold her kid for lying about homework. “Cardio?” he echoed, eyebrow arched, sharp enough that Jeongguk wanted to file a complaint with whoever designed his face.

“Yeah! Cardio. Why not? Good for the heart. Great for the… circulation.” Jeongguk’s voice trailed off, because even he couldn’t buy the garbage he was spewing. “Besides, why do you even care—”

“You kissed me.”

The words landed like a brick to Jeongguk’s skull. Taehyung cut him off cleanly, no hesitation, his tone steady but his cheeks still betrayed him, pink spreading across his face in a way that made Jeongguk’s stomach tighten with something he absolutely refused to find out the meaning of.

“Last night.” Taehyung continued, stepping closer. Instinctively, Jeongguk backed away, his sneakers crunching against gravel like his body was on autopilot to flee.

“Why’d you do that?”

Taehyung didn’t even raise his voice. Nevertheless, the look on his face was enough. It looked like a weird cocktail of frustration and confusion, with something softer underneath, which made the whole thing ten times harder for Jeongguk to deal with. 

Honestly, if Taehyung had come at him fists raised, yelling, maybe Jeongguk could’ve handled it. But this—this quiet interrogation with flushed cheeks and wide eyes—was worse. Way worse.

Because the truth was stupid. And useless. And ugly. 

The truth was, Jeongguk had panicked. 

He’d let the messy combination of neon lights, loud music, Namjoon’s sulky face, Hoseok’s worried voice, and Taehyung’s tears push him into doing something he hadn’t even thought through. 

It was uncalled for. It hadn’t even been logical. He just couldn’t deal with the sight of Taehyung crying, couldn’t wrap his head around how unfairly beautiful stoooopid looking it was, and his brain had short-circuited into one solution: shut him up with a kiss. Which was, in hindsight, not a solution at all.

So he did what any coward would do. He lied.

“Oh? D-Did I?” Jeongguk scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Taehyung’s eyes. “Sorry. I was so drunk I don’t really remember much from last night.” Jeongguk said—and oh, the lie was so transparent, he could practically hear his own voice cracking under the weight of the bullshit.

Taehyung then sighed, letting out an exasperated little huff that turned into a mocking laugh. He blinked up at the sky briefly, shoved his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then pinched the bridge of his nose like it was taking every ounce of willpower not to plant a fist straight into Jeongguk’s jaw.

“You’re really pulling the memory-loss card?” Taehyung scoffed, finally looking back at him with unimpressed eyes. “Come on. We both know you weren’t that drunk. You had, what, one beer? Who blacks out on one beer?” He added, tucking his hands into his pockets, his stance casual, but his gaze locked on Jeongguk, like he was waiting for him to try another excuse he could immediately destroy.

While Jeongguk, being the king of self-sabotage, kept running his mouth anyway. He threw together excuse after excuse—nonsense about how maybe he’d tripped and accidentally fell forward, maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe people kiss in other countries all the time and it didn’t mean anything, right?—while his brain scrambled to come up with new material faster than his tongue could keep up. 

He was babbling, he knew it, and the worst part was that Taehyung wasn’t even arguing back anymore. He wasn’t cutting him off, wasn’t calling him out, wasn’t doing anything remotely useful to help Jeongguk dig himself out of the hole he was actively tunneling. No. Taehyung just stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and smug amusement, like he had front row tickets to Jeongguk’s live performance of ‘How to Make a Complete Ass of Yourself in Under Five Minutes.’

And Jeongguk, poor idiot that he was, only noticed once it was too late. His words trailed off mid-sentence as he finally registered the look Taehyung was giving him—like he was watching a particularly entertaining sitcom rerun. 

Oh, fuck. Jeongguk’s stomach dropped straight through the concrete. The heat in his face, already bad enough, then spread until his ears burned, his nostrils flared, and his throat felt dry. He swallowed hard, wishing, begging , bargaining with the universe to just open up the ground under him and let him disappear. Preferably forever.

“What?!” Jeongguk snapped, his voice louder than intended, as if yelling could somehow make the humiliation less obvious. Well, it didn’t. He could feel the flush blazing across his cheeks like a damn neon sign flashing embarrassed loser for the whole world to see.

And, probably because fate, apparently, hated him, Taehyung chuckled. The guy actually chuckled. He even had the audacity to flick his gaze up and down at Jeongguk, slowly and lazily, before batting his eyelashes— batting his eyelashes . What was this, some kind of twisted audition for a rom-com parody? Jeongguk’s jaw practically throbbed from how hard he was clenching it.

“Sorry,” Taehyung said, though his tone carried zero actual apology as he coughed into his fist in the fakest attempt to hide his grin. “It’s just that… I really didn’t expect you to be, you know…” He paused, letting the words hang there, like he was dangling bait on a hook.

There, Jeongguk’s brain screamed. Know what? Know WHAT? His thoughts were spiraling so fast he felt lightheaded.

“…this shy.”

And there it was. The final nail in Jeongguk's coffin.

Shy. SHY. Of all the possible labels Taehyung could have slapped on him—awkward, stupid, drunk, reckless, rude— shy was the one he went with? Jeongguk nearly saw red. He wasn’t shy. He was many things: a coward, an impulsive idiot, a disaster with impulse control, sure—but shy? Hell no. Except maybe, apparently, yes, if that was how he looked like right now, fumbling like an idiot while Taehyung smirked at him.

“H-Hey—” Jeongguk didn’t mean to stutter, but still, he did, making him sound exactly like the one thing he swore he wasn’t. Great. Kill him now. “What the fuck are you talking abou—”

“You can just say it, you know?”

Haah??

Suddenly, Jeongguk froze. 

Taehyung’s gaze had softened, losing that somewhat mocking edge but keeping the tease, and the sudden shift knocked the wind right out of Jeongguk. The words then hung there between them again; it was deceptively simple, but Jeongguk’s brain refused to compute. 

Say what? Say what , exactly? Because if they were talking about the kiss—if Taehyung actually thought Jeongguk had meant it, that he’d wanted to—then holy shit, they’re in dangerous territory.

But before Jeongguk could even attempt to answer, Taehyung dropped his gaze, his lashes lowering like some cartoon character, and his whole demeanor shifted into something far too innocent for someone who’d just called Jeongguk shy . He looked almost bashful, like some anime heroine about to confess to her crush under a cherry blossom tree.

“I mean,” Taehyung said, his voice softer now, “...it’s not like you don’t have a chance.”

Jeongguk’s brain had practically stopped working at that, he was pretty sure smoke was coming out of his ears. His face cycled through every color on the spectrum—red, purple, grey, back to red—like a broken traffic light. His heart did this awful flip-flop thing in his chest that made him want to vomit. And for some ungodly reason, the only thought in his head was: what the hell is this guy saying?

Taehyung’s mouth then curved, just slightly, as he went on, “I was shocked, sure. But…” he hesitated, shoulders dropping a little, his expression still embarrassingly soft, “I think it wasn’t that bad. The kiss. And you too. I don’t think you’re that bad, Jeongguk.”

And that was it. 

That was the final blow. 

Jeongguk might still be standing upright, might still technically be conscious, but inside, he’d collapsed like a fainting goat. 

Game over.

He’s done. 

Someone please unplug him from life support.

Because seriously. What the actual fuck?

But wait—did he really hear that right? No, seriously, did those actual words just come out of Kim Taehyung’s mouth? Because unless Jeongguk had suddenly developed some kind of auditory hallucination disorder, what Taehyung just said was that it wasn’t that bad. The kiss. And him too. And that—that was some dangerous information to hand over to someone who had a chronic inability to make good decisions.

What the hell did Taehyung even mean by that? Well, who was Jeongguk kidding? He knew. Of course he knew. He wasn’t stupid, and Taehyung wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. 

Taehyung wasn’t mad. He wasn’t upset about being ambushed with a kiss last night. If anything—god help them both—the guy liked it. He actually liked it, and perhaps that was exactly why he had followed Jeongguk all the way out here, huffing and puffing like a maniac but still managing to look like he’d stepped straight out of a sports drink commercial.

Jeongguk almost burst out laughing right there. Honestly, it took every shred of self-control he had not to, because how could he? How could he miss this golden, shining opportunity that had basically landed in his lap? 

Taehyung is standing in front of him, blushing, acting shy in that ridiculous, pretty duuuumb way of his, practically confessing that he likes him. 

Isn’t it great? Isn’t this exactly the kind of jackpot people usually celebrate?

Call him cruel, but Jeongguk had reached his limit with watching Namjoon look like a kicked puppy every time Hoseok threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. And don’t get him wrong—Jeongguk had been nursing a crush on Namjoon since approximately the dawn of time, but he knew his place, and his place was not in Namjoon’s love story. No, if Namjoon could finally land Hoseok and stop suffering in silence, Jeongguk would honestly feel like he’d won too. Maybe not in the obvious way, but still.

So here it is: Jeon Jeongguk's genius plan. 

If he could grab Taehyung’s attention—steal it, really—then maybe Taehyung would back off from Hoseok long enough for Namjoon to swoop in. Brilliant, wasn’t it? 

Jeongguk, the tragic, self-sacrificing hero. He’d take one for the team, distract Taehyung for a while, and then bow out gracefully once Namjoon finally got the happy ending he deserved. 

Sure, it sounded stupid—maybe even a little masochistic—but what else was Jeongguk supposed to do? Pretend Namjoon wasn’t breaking his own heart every day? No thanks.

With that very noble (and very dumb) thought in mind, Jeongguk then straightened up, puffed out his chest, and tried to smile. The result was less ‘bashful charm’ and more ‘constipated toddler,’ but he forged ahead anyway, because really, at this point, what did he have to lose? 

So, he blinked up at Taehyung, rubbing the back of his neck in what he hoped was a casual way, and asked, “Are you for real? You’re not mad that I kissed you? I mean, after all, I did it out of the blue.” Jeongguk said, playing it off as if the lie didn’t just roll off his tongue with the grace of a car crash. Fuck, he couldn’t even look at Taehyung right now, so he turned his head to the side, and quietly took a deep breath.

And then it happened. 

Jeongguk looked up and caught the way Taehyung’s smile spreading slowly, until it bloomed into that ridiculous, bright, box-shaped grin, his eyes crinkling into perfect crescents, his cheeks were so flushed that even the tip of his annoyingly perfect nose was now tinged red. 

And for some dumb reason, Jeongguk felt like it all happened in slow motion, like the universe had decided to personally torture him by letting him absorb every single millisecond of Taehyung smiling.

What. The. Fuck.

Before he could stop himself, Jeongguk’s hand had already flown to his chest, pressing down as if to check whether his heart was actually still in there or if it had already launched itself out of his ribcage. Because the pounding was insane—it was too loud, too fast, and way too obvious. 

Is he ill? 

Yeah, that had to be it—some kind of sudden cardiac condition. 

Because seriously, there was just no other logical explanation for why Taehyung smiling at him felt like getting hit by a truck made of rainbows.

And then, as if the situation wasn’t humiliating enough, the school bell rang. Taehyung laughed—sounding so soft, warm, infuriatingly genuine—and reached out to pinch Jeongguk’s cheek like he was some oversized plush toy. 

“Oh, aren’t ya’ cute…” Taehyung drawled, now playfully flicking his fingertips under Jeongguk’s chin. “I have to go. See you later, yeah?” he said, still smiling, still glowing like he’d been hired to star in every 90’s rom-com montage ever filmed, before jogging off, hair bouncing, all sunshine and main character energy.

And Jeongguk just stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes locked on the corner where Taehyung disappeared. His hand was still pressed to his chest, clutching like it might steady him, though really, it did nothing of the sort.

“Yeah… I must be going crazy,” Jeongguk muttered to himself, and for once, he might actually have been right.

He’s fucked.

—

Chapter Text

🎯

<You can play this as you read.>

Boyfriend

It had been three weeks since that stupid party, three weeks since Jeongguk had kissed Taehyung out of sheer panic, and three weeks since Taehyung had somehow managed to take that kiss as a sign of interest instead of what it really was: Jeongguk’s brain malfunctioning in public. 

And in those three weeks, Taehyung had latched onto him like a six-foot-tall magnet with perfect hair and the kind of face that looked like it had been photoshopped by god himself. 

At first, Jeongguk thought it was a pain—obviously, because who wouldn’t find it exhausting to have someone following them around everywhere? Especially someone like Taehyung, who Jeongguk had originally pegged as a spoiled rich kid, too aware of how hot he was and way too willing to make sure everyone else knew it too. Except… yeah, no. Turns out Jeongguk couldn’t have been more wrong.

For starters, Taehyung wasn’t arrogant at all—he just genuinely did not care what anyone thought of him. If he wanted to wear something ridiculous, he wore it. If he wanted to belt out a song in the middle of the quad, he did it. If he felt like dancing in the convenience store while waiting in line to pay for his instant noodles, well, good luck trying to stop him. 

And about the rich kid thing—yeah, not true either. Sure, Taehyung’s parents worked overseas (still do, actually—that’s why he’s been living alone in Seoul) and he probably grew up comfortable, but he wasn’t rolling in chaebol-level money the way Jeongguk once imagined. In fact, he was pulling shifts at a tiny coffee shop three nights a week just to cover his own expenses.

And then there was the domestic disaster that was Kim Taehyung. The man had the survival skills of a damp sponge. Smart? Absolutely. Strong? Definitely—Jeongguk had seen him carry a box of gym equipment like it weighed nothing. But capable of feeding himself something that didn’t come from a plastic wrapper or aluminum can? Nope, not even close. 

The first time Jeongguk stepped foot in Taehyung’s house, he nearly fainted from the mess. The second time, he actually did something about it, cleaning two entire floors until the place looked like it belonged in a home decor magazine. 

Taehyung had been so grateful then that he’d tried to cook dinner in return—only to nearly burn the house down, leaving Jeongguk to clean up again and then cook for both of them. 

From then on, Jeongguk basically signed himself up for the role of a cleaner, a cook, and a babysitter, because if he didn’t, he was sure that Taehyung would probably die young in a tragic ‘death by instant ramen and soda’ incident.

Oh, if Jeongguk had known this was what he was getting into when he came up with his brilliant plan to distract Taehyung from Hoseok, he would have laughed in his own face, raised both middle fingers to the sky, and walked away. 

But here he is, three weeks later, with a new daily routine and a very pretty annoying, very clingy problem attached to his hip. 

Luckily, they were in different majors, because if Taehyung had decided to sit through lectures with him on top of everything else, Jeongguk would’ve already filed for a transfer to another university.

Not that it was all bad, though. Jeongguk had to admit —reluctantly, with gritted teeth— that Taehyung wasn’t the worst company. The guy was funny, unexpectedly smart, weirdly witty, and they had more in common than Jeongguk would have ever guessed. 

They worked out together, they played the same games, they shared music and movie tastes, and Taehyung ate every meal Jeongguk made for him like it was the best thing he’d ever had. 

Honestly, Jeongguk couldn’t even keep up with the growing list of things that proved his first impression of Taehyung had been complete garbage.

Oh, and the thing that surprised Jeongguk the most? Kim Taehyung has no fucking idea how attractive he is. None. 

Actually, the amount of times Jeongguk had physically blocked scouts from handing Taehyung business cards was getting ridiculous. Modeling agencies, acting agencies, idol recruiters—fuck, there was even a baseball coach in the list now, after the old man saw Taehyung throw a single pitch as a substitute in a campus game. 

And Taehyung, being the clueless idiot he was, just walked up to Jeongguk after, holding out a pile of business cards with a puzzled expression, asking why people kept giving them to him.

Ahh… What a fucking headache, seriously.

<You can play this as you read.>

Seesaw

.

.

.

Now, with his own class done for the day, Jeongguk is sitting on a bench in the university courtyard, drinking canned coffee while waiting for Taehyung’s class to end. 

Taehyung isn’t even here yet, but Jeongguk already feels drained, staring at the can in his hand like maybe another dose of caffeine can give him the patience required to deal with whatever dumb thing Taehyung’s going to do or say next. 

Three weeks. Three weeks of this. Jeongguk honestly isn’t sure how he’s still alive and functioning.

Jeongguk was still chilling, about to take another sip of coffee, when someone suddenly dropped onto the bench beside him. He’d been so far in his own head that he nearly spit his coffee back out.

“Jesus—” Jeongguk coughed, thumping his chest.

“Whoa, you good?” Namjoon laughed, patting Jeongguk's back like he was about to choke to death. “You’ve been a bit fidgety lately. Everything cool?”

“Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” Jeongguk said quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry, hyung, I was zoned out. Didn’t even see you. What’s up?”

“Not much. Just waiting for Hobi. His class should be over soon. You wanna grab dinner with us? It’s been a while.” Namjoon leaned back, eyes on the sky, looking unfairly relaxed.

Now here’s the thing, Joon wasn’t wrong. 

Jeongguk hadn’t really hung out with Namjoon or Hoseok in weeks. Ever since Taehyung came crashing into the picture, Jeongguk had been occupied with him—and that had been the point, hadn’t it? This whole stupid plan was supposed to give Joon and Hobi some space. Whether Joon had actually been using the opportunity, Jeongguk had no idea. He’d been too busy babysitting Taehyung to check.

“Uh… might have to raincheck tonight,” Jeongguk said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m waiting for Tae. He won’t shut up about this new anime, so we’re heading to his place after class.” He said as he leaned back on the bench too, sipping his coffee again—without choking this time. “Oh, wait. Doesn’t Hobi-hyung have the same class as Tae? They should be out soon.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said, his tone dipping a little. “I know.”

There, Jeongguk glanced at Joon, instantly regretting opening his mouth. Nice job, genius—remind the guy about the one thing that makes him sulk. 

Clearing his throat, Jeongguk then scrambled to change the subject. “Anyway… you’re right, hyung. It’s been a while since we hung out. I mean, you, me, Hobi-hyung. The three of us. So, uh… how’s Hobi hyung these days?” Jeongguk winced at himself at that. Seriously, what a great question, considering Namjoon didn’t even know he was onto his feelings. 

Well, whatever, it’s too late to take it back now anyway.

“He’s fine. Busy with his finals project. But knowing him, he’s probably done already.” Namjoon chuckled, then tilted his head to his side as he slightly nudged Jeongguk’s shoulder. “If anything, Tae’s the one you should keep an eye on. You know, new city, new uni—it’s a lot.”

Jeongguk then barked a laugh. “Tae? Please. He’s killing it. Honestly, he’s probably doing better than me, and I didn’t even spend half my life overseas. Guy’s a freakin’ genius, I’m telling ya! He’s good at everything. Professors are already trying to drag him into student council—half of them put his name forward, can you believe it? But—” Jeongguk leaned in a little, lowering his voice like he was letting Namjoon in on classified intel. “Don’t let him near the kitchen. Ever. Trust me, he’s a menace. You see, we were at his place one night, and he begged to help me cook. Sweet, right? Except then I hear, ‘fuck—ouch!’ every five freakin’ seconds. I swear to god, his chopping board looked like CSI should’ve been called in. And he still swore he had it under control. That guy, really…”

Yada, yada, yada…

By the time Jeongguk realized how long he’d been going on about Taehyung, Namjoon was already smirking at him.

“…What?” Jeongguk sputtered, feeling his ears burning up.

“Nothing,” Namjoon said, chuckling as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Just glad you and Tae are getting along. I told you, he’s not that bad.”

Jeongguk turned away at that, embarrassed. Hah—being caught rambling about Taehyung like that? Puh-lease , kill him now.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect it,” Namjoon added, voice softer now. “You and Taehyung. Who would’ve though, right? But really… I’m happy for you, Guk. It’s been a while since your last relationship after all. I think it’s about damn time.”

There, Jeongguk froze. 

Wait. 

Hold on.

Relationship?

Haaah????!

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’d completely forgotten he never cleared up the kiss situation after the party. Of course Namjoon thought they were dating.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk choked, grabbing Namjoon’s shoulder in panic. “No, no, no—you’ve got it all wrong, okay? Me and him, we’re not—like, it’s not—”

“Hey! Jeon Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk’s head then snapped up just in time to see Taehyung jogging towards them, all sunshine and perfect hair, with Hoseok right at his side.

What perfect timing, really.

Next thing Jeongguk knew, Taehyung had already slung an arm around his shoulders, squeezing himself right into the tiny space between him and Namjoon. Honestly, if Tae leaned an inch more, he’d be in Jeongguk’s lap, and Jeongguk would have no choice but to start charging rent.

“Joon-hyung! Hi!” Taehyung beamed at Namjoon before turning back to Jeongguk like he hadn’t just ambushed his personal space. “Ugh, Mr. Han went off about this new assignment. I thought he’d never shut up. Sorry, did you wait long?” Taehyung said, and he pouted—literally pouted, lower lip out and everything, like some guilty pretty princess silly cartoon character—and Jeongguk had no idea why his face suddenly felt like it was overheating. 

Seriously, this is not the time for whatever dumb heart condition he’s apparently developing. Especially not with Namjoon sitting right there, watching the whole thing unfold, while Taehyung clung to him like they were starring in some college rom-com Jeongguk definitely had not signed up for. (Well, technically, he did… But whatever.)

“N-Nah… it’s fine,” Jeongguk mumbled, clearing his throat as he carefully peeled Taehyung’s arm off and stood up, like maybe some extra oxygen would help his brain work again.

Taehyung then blinked up at him, confused, and maybe—maybe—looking a little hurt. Which of course made Jeongguk’s chest do that weird squeeze thing again, like he’d just kicked a puppy. He furrowed his brows, about to say something, anything, when Hoseok’s voice cut in.

“Yo, Guk! Haven’t seen you around lately. Wanna grab dinner with us? Me and Joon were just about to head out. Oh—and you too, Tae.” Hoseok said, with a grin that was as bright as ever, completely oblivious to the emotional train wreck happening two feet away.

“Nice try, but I already asked Guk earlier,” Namjoon said smoothly before Jeongguk could even open his mouth. “He and Tae have plans. Right, Guk?” Joon added; he even threw in a wink, which for some reason didn’t look like the kind of wink that screamed, ‘I’m trying to get alone time with the love of my life,’ but more like, ‘You’d rather hang out with your “boyfriend” anyway, so I’m giving you an out.’

“Uh…” Jeongguk blinked. “Yeah?”

“Oh, is that so?” Hoseok’s smile faltered just a little, his tone dipping with the tiniest hint of disappointment. “That’s too bad. Next time then, okay?”

And that’s when Jeongguk realized this whole situation was spiraling into a disaster. 

Namjoon’s looking way too pleased with himself, Hoseok’s clearly sulking, and Taehyung… yeah, Taehyung’s staring down at his hand, the same hand Jeongguk had just shrugged off, like it had burned him.

Ah… Shit.

Honestly, Jeongguk could not deal with all three of them at once. So instead of addressing literally everyone, he picked the easiest option: Taehyung.

“Let’s go?” Jeongguk muttered, reaching out and wrapping his fingers gently around Taehyung’s wrist.

Taehyung then looked up immediately, blinking wide, and Jeongguk gave him the softest nod he could manage, tugging Taehyung lightly.

And just like that, Taehyung’s entire mood flipped. His eyes crinkled, his smile went all boxy and too bright for Jeongguk’s sanity, and honestly, the guy just glowed so much Jeongguk almost needed sunglasses. Which, of course, only made him feel about ten times guiltier for brushing him off a minute ago.

“Yeah?” Taehyung grinned, practically bouncing to his feet.

“Y-Yeah,” Jeongguk said quickly, eyes darting away as he let out a small breath and turned back to the other two. “We’ll get going now. See you guys later.”

With that, Jeongguk dragged Taehyung away before anyone else could add fuel to the fire. 

And only when they finally reached the university gates did Jeongguk feel like he could breathe properly again.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asked the moment Jeongguk stopped walking, still holding him by the wrist. “You look pale.”

Jeongguk glanced at Taehyung through his lashes, catching the genuine concern on Taehyung’s face.

And in that moment, an odd sense of clarity washed over Jeongguk. His stomach turned, hating himself for ever thinking it was smart to mess with someone like Taehyung—a literal angel. Hell, he was still doing it. And for what?

To make himself feel less pathetic?

To pretend he was at least doing something to help Namjoon?

Seriously, what did Taehyung have to do with any of this? The guy was just living his life. Just happy to finally be reunited with Hoseok, his childhood best friend he hadn’t seen in years.

Also, did Joon really feel jealous of how close they were, or was Jeongguk just making it up in his head?

Fuck. He really was sick.

“Sorry, I—” Jeongguk paused, lowering his gaze as he tried to steady his breathing, then he blinked up at Taehyung again with a shaky smile. “I don’t feel well… I think I’m just gonna head home tonight.” He muttered as he squeezed Taehyung’s wrist one last time before letting go.

Then he bolted—running like a madman before Taehyung could even respond.

***

<You can play this as you read.>

Yes or No

Jeongguk’s now on his bed, one arm draped over his stomach, the other hanging uselessly off the side like his body had given up the will to coordinate. The ceiling above him wasn’t particularly interesting—plain white, with a faint water stain in the corner shaped vaguely like a rabbit if he squinted hard enough—but apparently it was the perfect surface to project the running commentary of all his bad decisions onto. 

There, his life choices paraded across Jeongguk's brain like an overly long credits reel, each mistake flashing up in bold font, starting with ‘Hey, why not pretend to be into Kim Taehyung, what could possibly go wrong?’ and ending with the very real possibility of him being punched in the face by karma sometime soon.

The truth is, at first, Jeongguk never actually liked Taehyung. At least not in the romantic, fluttery-heart, want-to-hold-hands kind of way. At best, he tolerated him; at worst, Taehyung drove him nuts. Ever since the guy showed up, he’d been permanently attached to Hoseok’s side like a decorative keychain that jingled too much. 

Jeongguk had assumed it was all some intentional, calculated thing—like Taehyung was trying to edge his way in between Hobi and Namjoon. 

But now, after weeks of being shoved into Taehyung’s orbit, Jeongguk had to admit it: the guy was just like that; touchy, clingy, a walking golden retriever in human form. He liked people, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

And when Jeongguk thought about it from that angle, all his assumptions about Namjoon sulking because of jealousy suddenly felt ridiculous. 

Maybe, Joon hadn’t even been pouting over Taehyung hogging Hoseok; he was probably just missing being Hoseok’s shadow himself. 

Jeongguk, of all people, should’ve known that Namjoon didn’t do petty . He was actually one of the kindest, most level-headed humans Jeongguk had ever met. 

That was the problem, actually—that was why Jeongguk had fallen for him in the first place. Because apparently, Jeongguk had a weakness for people who were both good-looking and disgustingly nice. And somehow, he’d managed to forget that, distracted by his own nonsense.

Instead of acting like a functional human being, he’d decided it was a genius idea to play pretend with Taehyung’s feelings. 

Well, Jeongguk hadn’t exactly lied out loud, but he hadn’t cleared anything up either, and silence was basically the same as lying. He’d let Taehyung think there was something between them, instead of setting the record straight before it spiraled into this mess. 

And sure, nobody else knew about Jeongguk’s dumb plan, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point is his own stupid conscience ‘s now gnawing at him, whispering that he’s a fraud. 

And believe it or not,  Jeongguk wasn’t a liar. He hated liars. He’d always prided himself on being honest to the point of bluntness, and now here he is, trapped in a situation of his own making with no escape route.

It wasn’t like he could just go up to Taehyung and say, ‘Hey, so actually? You got the wrong idea. I don’t like you. I only kissed you because you were crying and I panicked in front of Hobi and Joon, who’s actually the one I like. But you’re still cool. We can be friends, right?’ —Yeah, because that wouldn’t end with Taehyung shoving his face into the nearest garbage can.

The longer Jeongguk thought about it, the worse he felt. He wasn’t sick earlier, but now? His head was pounding, his stomach was tying itself into sailor knots, and he kind of wanted to hurl. 

There, Jeongguk threw his forearm over his eyes and groaned out loud, muffled into the crook of his elbow. “Ahhh, shit… I really need to get my shit together,” he muttered, peeling himself off the bed with the energy of a dying man. 

The mini fridge in the corner had one cold can of beer he was planning to drink after finals, but screw that, he needed it right now.

However, before Jeongguk could even stand all the way, there was a knock on the door.

<...>

<You can play this as you read.>

Sanctuary

When Jeongguk opened the door, there was Taehyung—oh, dear saint Taehyung—standing there like some kind of overly-prepared, slightly chaotic Florence Nightingale. In one hand, he held up a plastic bag of takeout porridge, and another bag stuffed with what looked like half a pharmacy aisle, while on his back was his backpack, zipper hanging half open so that the corner of his laptop stuck out like it was trying to make an escape.

“Hi!” Taehyung chirped, already launching into his ramble. “So, uh, I downloaded all the episodes of Kaiju No. 8. Wanna watch it together? Oh, and I brought food! And, um, some fever medicine… and painkillers too. I wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with you, so I just kind of grabbed… everything.” He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, cheeks puffing out like he was embarrassed, then grinned up at Jeongguk with that warm, uncomplicated gaze that should’ve been illegal.

And Jeongguk, for some reason, immediately wanted to cry. Which was exactly the sort of humiliating thing he didn’t want to do in front of Taehyung. So he dropped his gaze, bit his lip hard enough to sting, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed Taehyung’s wrists and pulled him inside. 

Taehyung then stumbled forward, crashing into him, face pressed against Jeongguk’s chest as Jeongguk wrapped both arms around him like he was trying to keep him from disappearing into thin air.

“Really… you,” Jeongguk rasped, his voice rough against the crook of Taehyung’s neck. He had no idea why he suddenly needed to hug him—he just did. Because this guy, this ridiculous guy with porridge and a backpack that looked ready to explode, had actually come running over to take care of him without even knowing the full story. 

And Jeongguk… Jeongguk had tried to play him. How fucking dare he?

“O-Oh,” Taehyung stammered, clearly startled, before letting out a nervous laugh. “There, there… Is it that bad?” He cooed, hands hovering awkwardly for a second before he gave in and patted Jeongguk’s back like he was soothing a cranky toddler. “You’ll be okay in no time, alright? Let’s, uh, let’s get you to bed?”

Holy shit. Jeongguk thought he might actually melt into the floor. But no—confessing his crimes now wasn’t an option. He couldn’t crush Taehyung like that, not after he went out of his way to bring dinner, unnecessary medicine, and the anime they were supposed to watch together. 

So instead of opening his big mouth and ruining everything, Jeongguk pulled back and let Taehyung guide him towards the bed, where he sat down quietly, like he’d just been scolded by his conscience.

“Stay there, okay? I’ll unpack this stuff,” Taehyung said cheerfully, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair before heading to the desk. He set down the bags, pulling out the steaming bowl of porridge and a small mountain of pill packets, clearly expecting Jeongguk to pick and choose whatever poison fit his mood. 

But when he noticed that Jeongguk wasn’t responding—not even glancing up—Taehyung frowned, abandoning the unpacking to walk back over. “Hey,” he said softly, brushing his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, trying to coax him into meeting his gaze. “Is it really bad? Should we go to the hospital?”

And finally, Jeongguk looked up. His eyes were glassy, his expression tight, and Taehyung froze, concern etched all over his face. “I… I think you really need to get checked.” Taehyung mumbled, about to grab his phone and book a cab so he could rush Jeongguk to the hospital, but then Jeongguk suddenly tugged on the hem of his shirt, stopping him from what he was planning to do.

‘Shit… I really don’t deserve this guy, do I?’ Jeongguk thought, staring at Taehyung like he was trying to burn the image into his memory, to keep it tucked away for the inevitable day Taehyung realized the truth and wanted nothing to do with him. 

Fuck. 

No. Seriously. What the fuck?

Suddenly, just the thought of Taehyung hating him made Jeongguk’s chest seize—and somehow, it was worse than anything he’d felt all night. Before he could even think, he was already tugging Taehyung down by the arm, his hand trembling as it cupped his cheek. “I’m really, really sorry…” Jeongguk rasped, and then—he kissed him.

Jeongguk was pretty sure his brain had officially clocked out and left him running on nothing but muscle memory and terrible instincts, because there was no other explanation for what he was doing right now. 

He knew he had no right to kiss Taehyung, no logical reason that could possibly excuse it, but apparently logic had never once mattered to his dumb ass, because here he is—mouth pressed to Taehyung’s, and the worst part? He wasn’t regretting it. Nope—not even a little. 

Sure, the guilt was there, loud and obnoxious in the back of his head, dragging him over hot coals and crucifying him six different ways, but layered over that was this undeniable truth that kissing Taehyung felt disgustingly, traitorously… good . 

It was as if this was something he should’ve done a long time ago, months ago, hell maybe even from the very first day they met.

And it made no sense, absolutely none, because last time he checked, his hopelessly lovesick self was still hung up on his Namjoon hyung . 

So, seriously, what the hell is this? 

When did Taehyung become—well, this ?

Jeongguk didn’t have an answer. He didn’t even want to think too hard about it, because his body was already a step ahead, pulling Taehyung closer until he was practically straddling Jeongguk’s lap, the kiss deepening without any hesitation this time. 

There, Jeongguk’s tongue slipped past Taehyung’s lips like he’d been dying to do it forever, his hands curving around Taehyung’s waist and kneading there like he was trying to memorize the feel of him. Taehyung’s scent, his warmth, his taste… everything. Jeongguk just simply wanted all of him.

Which got him thinking, was it the first kiss that did him in? No, that couldn’t be it. Then maybe it was when Taehyung started hanging around more, asking him to watch dumb anime marathons together, or when Jeongguk first set foot inside Taehyung’s house and realized it somehow felt more like home than his own. Maybe it was when Taehyung smiled at him so brightly after he’d cleaned up his disaster of a living room, like Jeongguk had just done him the biggest favor on earth. Or when Taehyung had teared up—actually teared up —over a bowl of makguksu Jeongguk had thrown together in fifteen minutes, praising him like he’d just pulled off a Michelin star meal.

Yeah, honestly, who the fuck knows when it started. All Jeongguk knew was that he’d set himself up for disaster, because what he didn't know at first, was that it was way too easy to like Taehyung. Insultingly easy, actually. It felt like the universe had scammed him.

“Nggh…”

There, a muffled sound then vibrated against Jeongguk's lips, snapping him out of his spiral, and realizing that Taehyung had let out a soft, broken noise when Jeongguk's hands drifted lower to grip his hips. 

Without even thinking about it, Jeongguk rocked Taehyung against him, slow and unsteady, and the little gasp that followed nearly fried the last functioning brain cell he had left.

Jeongguk had no clue what the hell he was even doing anymore—his head had had enough overthinking, leaving his body running on some primal, lizard-brain autopilot—and yet somehow, that was working out worse than when he actually thought things through. His chest was tight, his pulse was so loud it felt like it was trying to rattle itself out of his ribcage, and when he finally pulled back just a little to catch his breath, his gaze caught on Taehyung’s face. And fuck. Just fuck .

Because seriously, all Jeongguk had done was kiss him—one reckless, stupid, selfish kiss—and yet Taehyung already looked like sin personified. His cheeks flushed in this unfairly pretty pink that crept all the way down his throat, lips swollen and glistening, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded like he’d just rolled out of some particularly good dream, and Jeongguk honestly thought he might keel over. 

His knees literally went weak, which made no goddamn sense considering the fact that he was already sitting down, on his own bed no less, with Taehyung perched right there on his lap. 

Still, Jeongguk's legs somehow managed to feel like jelly, which was honestly insulting because when has he ever been this pathetic?

And then it hit him—maybe he really did have a thing for pretty faces. Because looking at Taehyung like this, all dazed and wrecked from a kiss, Jeongguk suddenly had the terrifying urge to build an altar in his honor, start a cult, and devote his entire existence to worshipping him. 

The man was just so stupidly, impossibly beautiful that it almost felt criminal to be allowed to see him like this without paying a fee. Like, who even was he? Who the fuck gave him the right?

“Ahh, shit,” Jeongguk groaned, arms tightening around Taehyung’s waist as if that would somehow ground him, before dropping his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder. Because really, if he kept staring at that face, his heart was going to tap out of his chest and call it quits right there.

“W-Why?” Taehyung mumbled, voice all soft and shaky, the kind of sound Jeongguk would’ve missed entirely if they weren’t practically fused together right now. “Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jeongguk admitted, because really, what else could he say? That he was having some kind of quarter-life crisis right now, with Taehyung on his lap? That every rational thought he’d ever had was currently crumbling under the sheer gravitational pull of Taehyung existing in front of him? He knew he was making everything worse, that he was writing his own downfall in permanent ink, and that he had absolutely no right to touch Taehyung like this—but fuck if he cared. 

Jeongguk wanted him—desperately—messily, in a way that made him feel unrecognizable, even to himself.

And the most frightening thing about all this was that it wasn’t like anything Jeongguk had felt for Namjoon, which was crushing and quiet and almost poetic in its tragedy. No, this thing with Taehyung was something else entirely—it was… feral . 

It was as if Taehyung had accidentally unlocked some unhinged part of him with nothing more than boxy smiles and crescent eyes and all the ridiculous little things he did that made Jeongguk feel like he was constantly three seconds from combusting. 

Jeongguk was just— gone . Absolutely, embarrassingly gone.

“Please,” Jeongguk husked, fists knotting into the fabric of Taehyung’s shirt like he was clinging to the last shred of his sanity. “Just… tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.”

Taehyung then shifted on his lap at that, slow enough to make Jeongguk bite back another groan, before his palms came up to cradle Jeongguk’s face—gently, carefully—and when he tilted his head, coaxing Jeongguk to look up at him, holy shit, Jeongguk almost forgot how to breathe altogether.

“Do you not have a cold?” Taehyung asked quietly, fingers threading through Jeongguk's hair in a way that felt so tender it nearly undid him.

God, those eyes. Jeongguk swore he was being hypnotized by them, dragged under into something he had no hope of crawling out of, and all he could do was shake his head, dazed and dumb and fully at Taehyung’s mercy.

“No… I do not. A-At least I don’t think so…” Jeongguk whispered, staring like a man possessed, because seriously, what else was he supposed to do when Taehyung was looking at him like… that?

“Then why would we stop?” Taehyung murmured, and that was it. 

That was the moment Jeongguk completely, irreparably lost his grip on reality.

He didn’t even give himself a second to think, because if he did, he was pretty sure he’d ruin it by overanalyzing every goddamn thing. Instead, Jeongguk just dove right back in, crashing their mouths together so hard it knocked a startled sound out of Taehyung, but the latter didn’t seem to mind—not when he kissed him back with equal urgency, lips clumsy and desperate, teeth clashing here and there, that would’ve been embarrassing if Jeongguk had an ounce of shame left in him, which he absolutely did not. 

Their mouths moved against each other in this uncoordinated mess, wet and breathless, but somehow that only made it hotter, like they were both starved and finally getting fed.

And sure, maybe Taehyung wasn’t exactly the most skilled kisser on the planet—his lips kept fumbling, missing the rhythm, and his tongue felt like it was still trying to figure out the right timing—but none of that mattered when Jeongguk was practically on fire . His chest was heaving, his whole body was buzzing, and holy hell, his dick was throbbing so painfully in his pants that it bordered on humiliating. 

But, again, Jeongguk wasn’t in the business of caring right now. He just wanted more, wanted to keep swallowing every shaky little moan Taehyung let slip into his mouth, wanted to touch, to grab, to feel every inch of him until it was all burned into his palms.

Which is why he growled—an actual impatient, feral little growl—the second he had to pull back for the smallest fraction of a second to get Taehyung’s shirt off. He yanked it upward, teeth clicking as he muttered a hoarse “Fuck—” against Taehyung’s lips, before diving back in, kissing Taehyung like he might stop breathing altogether if he didn’t. His fingers were clumsy too, fumbling with the fabric, but eventually he managed to peel it off and toss it aside without a second thought, hands instantly roaming across Taehyung’s now bare torso.

“God, Tae…” Jeongguk groaned into Taehyung’s mouth, the words muffled as he kissed him again, hot and frantic, while his palms swept greedily up Taehyung’s sides, kneading the muscle there like he was trying to commit it to memory. 

Again, (as this wasn’t established enough already) Jeongguk has no goddamn clue what the hell he was doing anymore, it was just that he couldn’t stop, and that he didn’t want to stop. 

He trailed his mouth down to Taehyung’s jaw, then his neck, teeth scraping against Taehyung’s honey-like skin as he moved lower, sucking marks in places that were definitely going to be visible tomorrow, but screw it. Jeongguk wasn’t thinking about tomorrow.

And then, the moment his hand slid up to Taehyung’s chest and his thumb brushed over one of his nipples, Taehyung let out this sharp, breathy gasp that hit Jeongguk straight in the gut, like flipping a switch he hadn’t even known existed. He froze for a second, blinking up at Taehyung in a dazed sort of haze, and fuck, the guy looked devastating.

Taehyung’s lips were even more swollen now, cheeks flushed, hair all mussed up, and those glassy eyes were locked on Jeongguk like he was the only person in the universe. 

Jeongguk’s knees honestly felt weak, which was insane, because again— he wasn’t even standing. Fuck!

Before Jeongguk knew it, he was lowering his head once more, tongue flattening against Taehyung’s nipple in one slow, deliberate drag that made the other man shudder. “Ohh—fuck—” Taehyung gasped, his voice pitching a bit higher than before, one hand flying up to grab the back of Jeongguk’s hair in a tight fist. 

And instead of pulling away, instead of even hesitating, Jeongguk closed his mouth around the bud and… sucked, groaning low in his throat as Taehyung whimpered above him.

It was ridiculous—so ridiculously hot that Jeongguk’s brain practically glitched. He licked, he teased, he lavished Taehyung’s chest with the kind of attention that made his own cock twitch angrily in his pants, while Taehyung writhed on his lap, trembling, moaning softly, obviously overwhelmed but not pushing him away. 

If anything, the way Taehyung’s fingers tightened in his hair felt like encouragement, like he was egging him on, silently begging Jeongguk to keep going.

And god help him, Jeongguk was all too willing to oblige.

It honestly blurred together for Jeongguk, like someone had smudged the whole timeline with their thumb. He couldn’t have said how long he’d been at it—licking, sucking, biting, squeezing, basically treating Taehyung’s chest like it was his new favorite toy—but by the time he surfaced from whatever haze he was drowning in, the damage was done. 

Taehyung’s chest was a complete disaster zone, littered with fresh marks, blooming bruises, and nipples that were flushed, swollen, and so wet Jeongguk could see them glisten under the low light of his room. They looked raw in the best, filthiest way, and Jeongguk almost felt bad… if it weren’t for the very real, very overwhelming urge to go back down and spend another hour worshipping them like some lunatic with a fixation.

“Ah, shit,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath, dragging his lips away for all of half a second before diving back in for one more bite, because honestly, he was losing his grip on the concept of moderation. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t even know if ‘enough’ existed when it came to Taehyung.

And before his brain could talk him out of it—not that it was doing much talking anymore—Jeongguk hooked both arms under the backs of Taehyung’s knees and hauled him up in one swift, desperate move, causing Taehyung to let out a startled little sound that went straight to Jeongguk’s dick, and then Taehyung was flat on his back against the mattress, spread out beautifully while Jeongguk knelt between his parted legs.

<You can play this as you read.>

So High

For a moment, Jeongguk just hovered there, catching his breath like he’d run a marathon, staring down at the sinful picture Taehyung made on his stupid twin-sized bed. 

Then, his hand found its way to the center of Taehyung’s chest again, palm flattening against warm skin before sliding lower, over Taehyung’s abs, tracing every dip and line, and then lower still until Jeongguk’s whole body was thrumming with anticipation. 

And…

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Jeongguk felt like he was spitting fire, like he might actually combust on the spot if Taehyung stopped him now.

Still, somewhere in the middle of all the heat and chaos, Jeongguk remembered himself enough to choke out, “Are you—fuck—are you sure about this?” His chest heaved, voice raw, but his eyes never left Taehyung sprawled out under him, cheeks flushed, hair falling into his eyes, looking far too tempting for Jeongguk’s already nonexistent self-control.

Taehyung’s breath then stuttered at the question, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as his lashes fluttered. He looked nervous, bashful even, which should’ve made Jeongguk slow down—but instead, it made him feel like he was hanging off the last thread of his already frayed sanity, literally one good tug away from completely disintegrating.

“About what?” Taehyung asked, voice husky and wrecked, that it made Jeongguk’s blood rush south even faster. 

Those wide, innocent eyes blinked up at him, and Jeongguk suddenly felt like the world’s biggest pervert—like he was defiling some six-foot-tall pure maiden. A maiden who, unfortunately, looked so fucking irresistible stretched out under him like that.

“Listen,” Jeongguk muttered, his voice rough as his finger hooked into the waistband of Taehyung’s sweatpants, tugging into it lightly but keeping his eyes locked firmly on Taehyung’s. 

He needed him to hear this. 

Seriously, Taehyung needs to fucking hear this.

“If you don’t stop me now… I’m going to fuck you, Tae. Hard. All night. I mean it. And even if you beg me to, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop.” Jeongguk had said it low, each word clipped and clear, just so there was no way Taehyung could misunderstand what he was offering—what he was threatening, really.

And yet, Taehyung’s first response still nearly scrambled every rational thought Jeongguk had, because instead of bolting upright or shoving him off or doing literally anything that might help Jeongguk regain some sanity, Taehyung just… nodded—absentmindedly—like Jeongguk had asked if he wanted extra cheese on his pizza. 

Fuck.

“O-Okay?” Taehyung stuttered softly, the word shaky but somehow still managing to carry this quiet sort of determination behind it, his gaze steady even though his cheeks were flushing a dangerous shade of pink. “You can… I mean, you can do that. I don’t… think I’d mind if you do just that…” he added, blinking up at Jeongguk with the kind of puppy eyes that should be outlawed.

And that was it. That was the moment Jeongguk knew he was fucked—no, worse than fucked—because how the hell was he supposed to hold back when Taehyung looked like that and said things like that?  

No shit. The universe had officially stacked the deck against him. “Shit,” Jeongguk couldn’t help but curse out loud.

There, he tugged experimentally at Taehyung’s sweatpants, testing the waters again, and immediately got rewarded with a sharp little gasp as Taehyung’s hands flew up to cover his face. 

Well, ‘cover’ was a strong word—more like Taehyung just slapped his palms over his cheeks but kept peeking through the gaps in his fingers like some anime high school girl caught in a compromising scene. Un-fucking-believable.  

Jeongguk had never in his life seen a man look so tall, and strong while simultaneously embodying the energy of a blushing shoujo heroine.

And sure, maybe Taehyung’s face screamed innocence and his reactions were straight out of a teen romance, but Jeongguk knew damn well he wasn’t dealing with some fragile, breakable thing. 

Taehyung wasn’t tiny, wasn’t the cliché twinky virgin character that might’ve played in Jeongguk’s fantasies if Jeongguk had any imagination left. No, the guy was again, tall, built solid with muscle from hours at the gym, broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist that could make anyone with a pulse weep. 

Hell, Jeongguk wouldn’t even be surprised if Taehyung could bench-press him. And yet here he is, squirming and blushing and making startled little noises every time Jeongguk touched him, like Jeongguk was some terrifying seducer instead of the idiot currently fighting the urge to scoop him up and hide him in his pocket forever.

It was insane, how Taehyung could make him feel so many things at once—like he wanted to wrap him in blankets and protect him from the world, while also wanting to ruin him so thoroughly Taehyung wouldn’t even remember his own name, only Jeongguk’s, because he’d make him moan it over and over again. 

It was too much, all of it, and Jeongguk couldn’t even find words anymore. His body took over.

Jeongguk then hissed, frustration and want all tangled up in the sound that slipped past his lips, before he yanked both of Taehyung’s sweatpants and boxers down in one rough pull and tossing them aside like they personally wronged him, his family, and all their ancestors. 

And then—fuck. Jeongguk forgot how to breathe once more.

“H-Hah… look at you,” Jeongguk rasped, voice already fraying at the edges as his eyes drank in the sight sprawled in front of him. 

Taehyung’s literally all bare now, every inch of his smooth sun-kissed skin stretched out and exposed, and Jeongguk couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship or devour him. His chest moved with ragged breaths, nipples still flushed from Jeongguk’s earlier attention, abs flexing whenever he shifted like his own body was betraying how nervous he was. 

And fucking hell, the way the light caught the slope of his waist as it curved down into his hips—Jeongguk’s mouth went dry, heat pooling low and urgent, like he was seconds away from just letting his feral instinct completely take over.

“H-Hah… Do you even have any idea what you look like right now?” Jeongguk muttered, half to himself, half to Taehyung, as his hands moved without conscious thought, roaming across Taehyung’s chest, his stomach, down the taut line of his waist. 

He then dipped his head, mouthing at Taehyung's skin, teeth scraping lightly as he worked his way across every patch of bare flesh he could get to. 

He kissed down the line of Taehyung’s abs, licked at the slope of his hipbone, his tongue tracing the path like he was mapping out a territory he intended to conquer.

Taehyung, meanwhile, was a mess. His hands fluttered around like he didn’t know where to put them, sometimes clutching at the sheets, sometimes grabbing onto Jeongguk’s shoulders, but always trembling, always searching for something to hold on to. His moans came out loud and unrestrained, breaking free of him with every new touch, every swipe of Jeongguk’s tongue, every hot breath ghosting over his skin. 

And each time Taehyung gasped or whined, Jeongguk felt his restraint slip further and further away.

“Nngh… shi—” Jeongguk groaned, his voice thick, grinding down against Taehyung’s thigh without even realizing he was doing it until the friction made him see stars. He hissed again, rutting shamelessly as his hand finally wrapped around Taehyung’s shaft, stroking him slowly at first, just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. 

And the answer came fast—Taehyung arched up, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a choked moan that had Jeongguk nearly unraveling on the spot.

“Fuck… Tae, you’re killing me here, babe,” Jeongguk muttered, his forehead dropping to Taehyung’s shoulder as he worked him with his hand, all while grinding down against Taehyung's leg like he’d lost all sense of dignity. 

His eyes then flicked up just to watch Taehyung’s face contort with every stroke, every twist of Jeongguk’s wrist, and the sight alone was enough to make Jeongguk feel like he was seconds away from completely losing it— hah, as if he hadn’t already .

Jeongguk’s hand had been steady enough when it first wrapped around Taehyung’s cock, but by the time he realized his own shirt was sticking to him like a second skin, it was over. It was time to get rid of the damn thing.

“Ahh, shit… why is it so fucking hot in here,” Jeongguk grumbled as he yanked his shirt off with a clumsy urgency that made the whole thing look less like a striptease and more like a man fighting for his life against cotton, then he tossed it somewhere he’d definitely forget about later, and immediately went back to pumping Taehyung with a desperation that was equal parts worship and punishment.

And god, Taehyung—Taehyung came apart under his hand so beautifully Jeongguk nearly lost it all over again right there. His face went pink then red then flushed down to his neck, lips parting, head thrown back against Jeongguk’s pathetic excuse for a pillow, hair damp and sticking to his temples as if he’d run a marathon. His lashes fluttered with every twitch, every gasp, until his whole body jerked and he was moaning Jeongguk’s name like it was the only word he’d ever learned. 

There, Jeongguk stared, transfixed, pathetic, absolutely fucking ruined, like he’d just witnessed a religious miracle and all he could do was keep stroking Taehyung through it, coaxing him into spilling over Jeongguk’s hand, making a mess of his stomach and chest, while his nails clawed into Jeongguk’s back, dragging lines he’d definitely feel in the shower tomorrow.

“Fuck… fuck, Tae,” Jeongguk muttered, the words breaking out of him without permission, his voice rough like gravel, his hand still moving even when Taehyung was twitching and shuddering, overstimulated but gorgeous, so goddamn gorgeous Jeongguk wanted to cry. 

He pressed his face against the crook of Taehyung’s neck, rutting desperately against Taehyung’s thigh because there was no way he was surviving this with his sanity intact, grinding shamelessly against the heat he could feel even through his pants, his other hand—still slick with Taehyung’s come—sliding lower until his fingers found their way between Taehyung’s thighs.

He rubbed on the tight ring of muscle lightly at first, just teasing, prodding, testing, until the soft resistance gave way to heat, and Jeongguk thought he might actually explode from how badly he wanted— he needed to be inside. 

“Please, Tae… fuck—please let me in, I need you, I swear I’ll be good… I’ll be good, just let me—god, I’ll do anything, just let me—” Jeongguk husked, his voice nothing but a broken plea against Taehyung’s skin, desperate, guttural, almost embarrassing if he had the capacity to care.

Taehyung was still dazed, wrecked from his orgasm, but the second he felt Jeongguk rutting against his thigh and those slick fingers pressing against him, his hazy eyes flew open and his whole body shivered like it was too much and not enough all at once. 

And still—he nodded—just nodded, gasping, voice trembling but sure when he whispered, “Yes… okay… okay, do what you want.”

Jeongguk then swore under his breath, relief and lust hitting him so hard he almost saw stars, and then he was sliding a finger inside, slowly, carefully, like his whole body wanted to rush but that tiny —tiny part of his brain that was still somehow, miraculously sane, wouldn’t let him risk hurting Taehyung. 

And fuck, it was tight—Taehyung was so tight Jeongguk’s lungs actually forgot how to function. He couldn’t stop the curses falling out of his mouth as he moved his finger, eyes glued to Taehyung’s face with every twitch, every little whimper, drinking in every second like he might never get another chance.

“You’re perfect, Tae,” Jeongguk rasped, forehead damp as he pressed a kiss to Taehyung’s temple, his finger moving carefully in and out. “So good for me, fuck—you’re sucking me in so tight, nngh… I can’t—shit, I can’t wait to be inside you. Ahh…. shit, I’ll be in here soon. You’d let me, yeah? Say yes… Please, say yes…”

But Taehyung was too into it now to form words, he simply moaned louder than before, back arching, thighs trembling, the sound shooting straight through Jeongguk like an electric current. 

And when Jeongguk added a second finger, stretching him carefully, whispering more praise, telling him how beautiful he was, how much he wanted him, Taehyung’s noises got louder, desperate, broken, until the third finger slipped in and Taehyung was gone, gasping for air, nails digging harder into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk didn’t even remember grabbing the lube, but his fingers were sliding with ease now, wet and filthy, fucking Taehyung open with a speed that betrayed how badly he was holding back. 

He couldn’t stop watching—Taehyung’s face, his mouth falling open, his brows knitting together, his lips trembling around Jeongguk’s name like a prayer. Jeongguk was drowning in it, drunk on the sound, on the sight, on the impossible feeling of Taehyung gripping him so tightly.

By the time Taehyung was hard again, trembling and rutting against Jeongguk’s side, he couldn’t take it anymore. His voice broke, pleading, whining, begging in between gasps. “Please, please, please, that’s enough—I… I want you inside me… now.”

Taehyung’s hands cupped Jeongguk’s face then, pulling him close until their foreheads pressed together, eyes locking in a haze of sweat and heat and desperate need. 

And Jeongguk—Jeongguk had no chance. Whatever pride he’d had was long gone, whatever cool he thought he could maintain had burned away with every moan Taehyung let out. 

All that was left was this need, raw and consuming, and the terrifying realization that he’d never felt this for anyone—not for any of his exes, nor for Joon. No, not even once, not even close. 

And honestly, Jeongguk didn’t care. He’d beg again, and again, and again, if it meant he got to see Taehyung like this—wrecked and gorgeous and his.

Jeongguk all but ripped his pants down, fumbling so badly he almost tripped over himself, muttering curses under his breath that sounded half like prayers and half like a man losing a fight with denim. 

The lube bottle, by some miracle—or maybe divine intervention—was still on the bed, rolling dangerously close to the edge but somehow not falling, and Jeongguk snatched it like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. 

He couldn’t even process the fact that Taehyung was actually here, sprawled on his bed, legs spread wide, flushed and beautiful and waiting for him, because his hands were shaking so badly it felt like he’d downed six cups of coffee and smoked a pack of nerves.

And of course—because again, the universe hated him—the condom. The goddamn condom. 

Jeongguk dug into his nightstand and found a packet that had probably been gathering dust since the last presidential administration, and naturally, it wouldn’t open. 

The foil slipped right through his sweaty fingers once, twice—“fuck, you piece of shit”—three times, until Jeongguk was ready to bite the thing open like some deranged animal. He probably looked ridiculous, fumbling like his life depended on latex, and he swore he’d burn the entire condom factory down once this was over.

But then Taehyung shifted, propping himself up slightly, and Jeongguk froze mid-battle, packet still crushed in his fist. Taehyung’s gaze met his, steady and warm despite the mess of his hair and the flush staining his cheeks, and without ceremony, he reached for the condom, plucked it out of Jeongguk’s hand, and tossed it casually onto the floor.

“Don’t,” Taehyung murmured, voice low, threaded with something soft that made Jeongguk’s stomach flip inside out. “Just this once, I want to feel you, Jeongguk.”

Oh, shit.

Jeongguk’s already half-melted brain stopped functioning entirely. There were no words, no thoughts, no witty comebacks. He just nodded, dumb and obedient, breath shuddering in and out like he’d forgotten how a human body worked. His hands hovered helplessly until Taehyung took control, squeezing lube into his own palm, rubbing it between his hands to warm it before wrapping those slick fingers around Jeongguk’s cock.

There, Jeongguk made a sound he’d deny for the rest of his life; it was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, as Taehyung coated him from base to tip, slow and careful, all while staring him dead in the eye. 

Fucking hell. Jeongguk’s soul left his body then. His knees actually wobbled. If there was a nirvana, he was pretty sure this was it, and it was named Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung then reclined again, slow and shy, but still, never looking away as his hand cradled Jeongguk’s cock and guided it down to his own entrance, pressing the fat, leaking tip against himself. 

And Jeongguk—he followed like a moth to a flame, helpless. Fucking pathetic.

“You could probably kill someone with this size,” Taehyung mumbled, then he paused, arms swinging up to cover his face, his ears and neck burning bright red. “Take it easy on me.”

Oh.

Oh.

Jeongguk lost it all over again. Whatever shreds of shame he had left went out the window as he groaned, leaning down to pin Taehyung’s wrists to the bed beside his head. Because no way —no fucking way— was he letting Taehyung hide from him right now. 

He needed to see him, every second of it. Their foreheads pressed together then, and Jeongguk bit his bottom lip so hard it hurt as he slowly pushed in.

And Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. Taehyung was hot and tight and slick, and Jeongguk swore he saw Eden the second his tip slid in. He was losing his mind, unraveling with every inch, every impossible squeeze of Taehyung’s body around him. 

Seriously, Jeongguk had never felt anything like it—sinful, forbidden, addictive—and he was barely even inside.

There, he grunted, stopping himself before he drove all the way in, pulling out only to push back in, teasing, letting Taehyung adjust to his size. 

In and out… In and out…

Every thrust of just the tip had Taehyung gasping, his mouth falling open, his body twitching, and Jeongguk couldn’t look away. He pressed his forehead harder against Taehyung’s, his voice rough but soft when he managed to rasp, “You good? Does it hurt, mhm?” The gentleness in his tone shocked even him, considering he felt like he was already on the verge of combusting.

But apparently, Taehyung didn’t share his patience. His voice trembled, his hands cupping Jeongguk’s face now, pulling him closer, whispering, “Please… I want—ngh… I want it in me. Put it in me now.”

That was it. 

The final thread snapped. Jeongguk groaned, primal and raw, and pushed in deeper, deeper, until he was buried to the hilt, his cock sheathed entirely inside Taehyung’s impossibly tight, wet heat. His body shook with the effort of not collapsing right then and there, his mouth spilling curses and prayers into Taehyung’s skin.

“Fuuuuck—fuck, Tae… Nghh—so tight, so good, holy shit,” Jeongguk rasped, rocking his hips just enough to make Taehyung moan back, unrestrained and filthy. 

Jeongguk kissed him then, messy and desperate, all teeth and spit, swallowing Taehyung’s cries as he started moving—slowly at first, then harder, faster, until his hips snapped forward in frantic rhythm.

The bed creaked, the headboard banged, filling the entire room with the kind of noise that guaranteed at least three noise complaints tomorrow, but Jeongguk didn’t give a single fuck. 

All he cared about was Taehyung clenching around him, moaning his name like it was sacred, kissing him back like he was starving.

There, Jeongguk grabbed Taehyung’s legs, basically folding him in half, knees pressed up to his chest as Jeongguk drove into him again and again. 

“Ahh… Fuck… Fuuuck… Wait—Ahhhh…” Taehyung cried out, his cock leaking, spurting cum that streaked up his chest and chin, making his whole body tighten around Jeongguk so suddenly Jeongguk almost screamed.

“H-hah… Nngh…  Tae… Tae… Baby—fuck, I can’t—” Jeongguk gasped, hips stuttering, pounding harder, chasing his own release until he was a mess of curses and moans and praises. “Uuughh… so good, you feel so good, baby… yes …yes… nngh—shit—”

And then Jeongguk was gone, spilling inside Taehyung with a guttural cry, every nerve in his body lit up as he buried himself deep, hips jerking erratically until he had nothing left to give.

They collapsed together, and there, the world seemed to slowly come back into focus as their breaths synced, their bodies trembling and sweaty. 

Jeongguk kissed Taehyung lazily now, wet and slow, lips dragging down to Taehyung’s neck, his tongue swirling over already abused nipples like he couldn’t help himself, addicted and dumb, before he kissed back up—his cheeks, his nose, his lips again.

When Jeongguk finally pulled out, it was careful, almost tender, and he immediately tugged Taehyung into his arms, holding him close like he’d never let go. 

Their heartbeats pounded in sync, loud and steady against each other’s chests, and Jeongguk swore right there he’d treat Taehyung right.

Yeah. Namjoon could figure his shit out on his own. Because this—this is different. 

And Jeongguk wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 

Kim Taehyung is his now.

“I think… I really… really like you, Tae,” Jeongguk whispered, hugging the latter tighter in his arms.

“Mn… me too. I think, I really, really like you too,” Taehyung murmured against Jeongguk’s chest, breathing in his scent.

And then, they did it all over again.

—

Chapter Text

🎯

<You can play this as you read.>

Clean

Two months. That was how long it had been since Jeongguk first had Taehyung sprawled out in his bed and, in some cruel twist of fate, also since he realized there was no going back. 

Every single day after that had been some ridiculous version of paradise, making Jeongguk want to punch his past self in the face for ever wasting time on the wrong guy. 

And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hated Namjoon now—please, no. He still admired him, he still thought Joon was ridiculously smart and disgustingly good with words, but the thing was, Namjoon existed firmly in the ‘best friend’ box now, and Jeongguk didn’t even flinch at the thought. 

Sure, before, he might have gotten a little petty seeing Namjoon stare longingly at Hoseok sometimes, but thinking about it now, that was probably more about secondhand embarrassment than anything else. 

With Joon, Jeongguk had always been chill, the admiration-from-afar kind of thing, like watching someone ace every exam while you failed calculus. 

A childish crush. 

That was it.

Jeongguk knew that now.

But Taehyung—God, Taehyung was a different species altogether. For some reason, Taehyung made Jeongguk feel like a rabid dog guarding his mate, ready to growl at anyone dumb enough to breathe near him with heart eyes.

And fine, yes, Jeongguk was clingy . He wasn’t proud of it, but he wasn’t exactly denying it either. After all, the evidence was all there: he’d practically moved into Taehyung’s place without signing any paperwork, and his dorm room was basically just a storage unit now. 

He couldn’t help it. He wanted to be around Taehyung constantly—watching him smile, eat, sleep, shower, sneeze, breathe… yeah, Jeongguk's definitely aware that he sounded like a creep, but honestly, if liking someone this much made him creepy, then fine, he’d take the title. 

Oh, and the best part? Taehyung didn’t mind. Actually, Taehyung matched Jeongguk's clinginess in stride, and let’s not even get started on how often Taehyung wanted to have *cough* sex, because Jeongguk had absolutely no complaints about that or whatsoever. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he’d been Taehyung’s first (yes, that's right. Taehyung said it himself after their first night together), because with a face like that, Jeongguk would’ve assumed the guy had a roster. But no— his angel, his baby bear, had been clumsy, fumbling, new to everything, and Jeongguk couldn’t even lie, he’d loved every second of it. 

It wasn’t about the numbers. It was about the present—the now, and right now, Jeongguk’s heart’s totally, fully booked.

Which was why, after keeping everything to themselves for two months, Jeongguk had finally decided it was time to tell his best friends what was really going on. 

So here he is, sitting in a pub near Taehyung’s house, on his second beer already, while Namjoon nursed his first like some old man with liver problems. 

He wanted to wait until both Hoseok and Taehyung showed up before saying anything, but patience had never been Jeongguk's strongest skill, and the other two apparently got caught up working on a project for one of their subjects.

So yeah, Jeongguk decided to spill everything to Namjoon first. After all, he doesn't really mind repeating the same thing to Hobi later. 

“So, uh… me and Tae,” Jeongguk started, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ve been going out for two months now. And it’s… serious. I’m serious, hyung.”

Namjoon then raised his eyebrows at that, then chuckled into his bottle. “Man, please… You weren’t hiding anything. I’m pretty sure half the campus already knows you two are together. You’re so down bad, even a blind man could tell you’re in love.” He added as he clinked his bottle against Jeongguk’s like it was some kind of blessing. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

The warmth that spread in Jeongguk’s chest then definitely wasn’t from the alcohol. For once, he wasn’t embarrassed about being called out—if anything, it made him proud. 

Well, how could he not? He’s dating Kim Taehyung—probably, no Jeongguk's actually sure that his baby’s the best, the kindest, sweetest, cutest, sexiest—most handsome man alive.

“You know,” Jeongguk said, voice dropping a bit, “I actually used to have a crush on you, hyung. Before Taehyung.”

“Huh?” Namjoon almost choked on his drink at that. “What? No way.” he said, scoffing in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk laughed, surprising himself with how light it felt to say it. Well, it's probably because it was all in the past. “I mean, you’re tall, smart, kind… how could I not? But hey, I knew I didn’t have a chance. You’ve only ever had eyes for Hobi-hyung after all.”

“Oh,”

That, that made Namjoon freeze mid-sip, eyes flicking over like Jeongguk had just caught him cheating on a test. “…Was I that obvious?”

“Pfft…” Jeongguk burst out laughing then. “Hyung, please. You’re not as subtle as you think. I actually felt so bad for you sometimes, especially when Taehyung arrived and started hanging around Hobi-hyung all the time… You looked—well, kind of sad. Or jealous. So, you know, I decided to help you out.”

“Help me out?” Namjoon blinked then at Jeongguk, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” Jeongguk grinned, taking another swig of beer. “Thought I could distract Taehyung—y’know, keep him busy so you’d have more alone time with Hobi. I figured if I played the role of the babysitter, you’d finally get the chance to confess or something. I mean—” he shrugged, smiling almost sheepishly, “I’m not sure about you, but...clearly it worked out in the end for me, so… I kinda owe you one, I guess?”

<You can play this as you read.>

Don’t Ever Say Love Me

Jeongguk was about to laugh it off again when a voice behind him cut in, flat and sharp enough to make Jeongguk’s stomach sink.

“What the fuck, Jeongguk? Are you for real?”

Shit.

It was Hoseok.

Jeongguk turned so fast his neck almost snapped, only to see Hoseok standing there with his arms crossed, glaring like Jeongguk had just confessed to stealing his money. 

However, the real blow came when Jeongguk caught sight of Taehyung standing a step behind Hoseok, eyes glassy, lips twitching up in the kind of smile that clearly wasn't happy.

“I see…” Taehyung’s voice cracked slightly, quiet but heavy enough to crush Jeongguk’s chest. “So that’s it, huh? Good job. Guess your plan worked. Congratulations.”

And then Taehyung was gone, slipping past the crowd and heading straight for the exit, leaving Jeongguk frozen in place, face drained of color, heart dropping straight through the floor.

“Shit,” Jeongguk muttered, scrambling up from his seat so fast he nearly knocked the table over, legs already moving before his brain could catch up. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to fix it, but he knew one thing for sure—he had to get to Taehyung before he lost him completely.

<...>

Jeongguk bolted out of the pub like his life depended on it, which in a way it did, because if Taehyung actually walked away from him right now, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to take it. 

So, he ran—and ran, until he finally spotted Taehyung half a block down, coat flapping as he moved quickly, head bowed low, and there, Jeongguk’s heart instantly broke into about fifty different jagged little pieces when he realized Taehyung was crying. 

God, he wasn't crying quietly either—it was loud, and painful, and with a broken sound that carried in the empty night air, ugly and wet and making Jeongguk feel like the biggest asshole alive.

“Taehyung! Tae, wait!” Jeongguk shouted, legs pumping as he ran after him. He basically sprinted until he had finally caught up, breathless, grabbing at Taehyung’s wrist, but the other quickly yanked it away.

“Don’t—” Taehyung snapped, voice raw, wet cheeks glinting under the weak streetlamps. “Don’t touch me.”

Jeongguk then flinched like he’d been slapped, but still, he didn’t back down. “Please, just—just listen, okay? It’s not what you think—”

“Oh really?” Taehyung let out a bitter laugh, though it cracked at the end, tears still spilling down his face. “So I didn’t just hear you admit that you only went after me because you wanted to keep me away from Hoseok-hyung? That was… what, some kind of charity work? Babysitting duty? God, I’m such an idiot.”

There, Jeongguk’s chest caved in. He stumbled forward, hands out like surrender, but his voice tumbled out desperate, panicked. “No, no, Tae—it started like that, okay? Yes, I admit it, I was an idiot, I thought I was doing Namjoon hyung a favor, I thought I was helping—but that’s not what this is now. That’s not what we are now.”

“Then what are we, Jeongguk?” Taehyung’s voice broke on his name, and Jeongguk swore he’d never get over how small it sounded, how hurt. “Because from where I’m standing, I’m just the consolation prize you settled on by accident.”

“Settled?” Jeongguk murmured, his gaze lowered now as he lightly shook his head, finding that one single word so fucking dumb and loathesome because of how inapplicable it was when it comes to his feelings for Taehyung. 

Then, Jeongguk bit his bottom lip hard, steeling himself as he took a deep breath and finally blinked back up to Taehyung once more. 

“I didn't settle for you, Tae. I’m in love with you,” Jeongguk blurted, louder than he intended, voice cracking halfway through. His throat burned, his chest hurt, and there was no taking it back anyway. “I’m in love with you, Taehyung. Not Namjoon hyung. Not anyone else. You. ” 

Jeongguk was full-on crying now, fat tears streaking down his face as he tried to breathe through it. 

Fuck, this wasn’t how he’d imagined telling Taehyung—about his feelings, about how he didn’t just like him, but was actually, truly, fucking pathetically in love with him.

But he fucked up—big time. So now Jeongguk’s absolutely terrified that if he doesn’t say everything right this second, he’ll never get another chance.

“Actually, fuck Joon hyung, fuck Hobi hyung too—fuck everyone. It’s you, it’s you now Tae, and I can’t—” Jeongguk’s voice hitched at that, words spilling like they couldn’t stop—“I can’t lose you over some dumb shit I said when I didn’t even know just how much you’d mean to me… But I know now. I love you, Tae.”

There, Taehyung’s laugh came out hollow, shaking, cruel only because of how broken it sounded. “You think I’m supposed to believe that? You think you can stand here and say you love me and I’ll just forget what I heard? How do I know you’re not only saying this because you’re scared I’ll ruin your precious hyung’s chances again?”

Jeongguk’s knees nearly gave out then, his guilt strangling him so tight he could barely breathe. “Please don’t do this,” he begged, stepping closer, though Taehyung immediately shoved at his chest. “Please, p-please… don’t leave me, Tae. You don’t have to forgive me, you don’t even have to believe me right now, I’ll wait. I’ll wait—as long as it takes, I swear—but don’t cry like this. Don’t let me be the reason you cry like this.” Jeongguk pleaded, his hands trembling as he reached up, tentatively brushing at Taehyung’s wet cheeks, voice breaking as he whispered, “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand seeing you hurt like this.”

For a second—just a second—Taehyung stilled, his breath catching as Jeongguk’s thumbs swiped gently under his eyes. It was clumsy, shaky, soaked immediately by more tears, but Jeongguk didn’t care. He wanted to cup his face, kiss the salt away, hold him until he stopped trembling.

Then Taehyung’s expression shuttered, and he slapped Jeongguk’s hand away with a choked sound. “Don’t,” he muttered, stepping back, wrapping his arms tight around himself. His voice came out quieter this time, but with enough finality, cutting straight through Jeongguk’s chest. “Just… leave me alone for now, Jeongguk.”

And then Taehyung turned, walking uphill, his back rigid, his figure shrinking under the dim streetlight.

Jeongguk stayed rooted where he was, in the middle of that empty road, his hands still hanging in the air like he’d been caught mid-prayer. His tears blurred the world into streaks of light and shadow, but the one thing he could see clearly was Taehyung’s retreating silhouette, moving farther and farther away until the night swallowed him whole.

***

<You can play this as you read.>

The Subway

It had been a week since everything went to shit. Seven full days since Jeongguk’s carefully hidden skeletons rattled their way out of the closet, did a little parade in the middle of the street, and stomped all over Taehyung’s heart in the process. 

He’d made Taehyung cry again with those big, broken, betrayed tears—and honestly Jeongguk couldn’t care less about the rest of his life because what did exams, deadlines, and a functioning liver even matter when he had officially ruined the one good thing that had accidentally landed in his lap?

The day after that night, Jeongguk turned into a human shadow. He waited outside Taehyung’s house, followed him to campus, loitered outside lecture halls, trailed after him like a creep who should have probably been reported to campus security. 

Fuck. He knew how insane he looked, but his brain kept supplying him with comforting lies like, ‘I’m in love, so this is romantic,’ when in reality, it was closer to ‘restraining-order material.’ Taehyung didn’t even look at him—not once, and Jeongguk told himself he deserved it.

He did it again the next day. And the next. By day three, Taehyung finally cracked—not to take him back, but to give him a soft, devastating “Please… stop doing this, okay?” 

The look in Taehyung’s eyes then was so tender that it made Jeongguk want to bash his head into the nearest tree. Taehyung had been crying too, but still he reached up, cupping Jeongguk’s cheek like Jeongguk was still worth something, and that was somehow worse. Then he left, and Jeongguk stopped following.

The next morning, Jeongguk didn’t get out of bed. Then he also didn’t the day after. And the day after that. 

He ignored Hobi’s texts, left Namjoon on read, even when they came pounding at his door like an intervention squad, Jeongguk pulled the blanket over his head and pretended he didn’t exist. 

In just a week, Jeongguk's room turned into the set of a low-budget apocalypse movie: ramen cups stacked like tragic trophies, empty soju bottles rattling every time he moved, the air stale with despair and MSG. He didn’t cry anymore. He just… sat there, feeling pathetic and hollow.

Maybe this was what people meant when they talked about dying of heartbreak. It wasn’t some dramatic swoon—it was forgetting what day it was, letting your hair get greasy, and wondering if your guardian angel had finally given up on your dumb ass.

Except, apparently, his guardian angel hadn’t.

<You can play this as you read.>

Falling 

Suddenly, there was a knock. Jeongguk ignored it, like always. But then came the faint, unmistakable beeping sound of his passcode being punched in. 

Jeongguk's head shot up, eyes wide, panic surging so fast his chest hurt. And then the door opened.

“You.”

Taehyung stood in the doorway, eyes glassy from his unshed tears, voice sharp but trembling, like he was both furious and terrified at the same time.

Jeongguk blinked at him then, feeling his throat closing up instantly. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, too afraid that this was just some hallucination conjured up by his miserable brain.

“You absolute idiot,” Taehyung said, stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. “I had to hear from Hobi hyung that you’ve been skipping class for a week? Are you out of your mind?”

Jeongguk opened his mouth, but all that came out was a pathetic, shaky sound that might’ve been ‘Tae’ if you were being generous. He couldn’t look away—convinced that if he blinked, Taehyung would vanish into thin air.

Taehyung on the other hand, froze halfway across the room, eyes flicking over the disaster: the pile of noodle cups, the cluster of soju bottles, the unmade bed with Jeongguk hunched like a kicked puppy in the middle. 

For a second, Taehyung's expression wavered, tears spilling over again before he scrubbed at his face with both hands, as if he was furious with himself for crying at all. Then he inhaled, squared his shoulders, and went for the low blow.

“God, your room’s a nightmare,” Taehyung muttered, voice cracking in spite of the casual tone, before crouching to start gathering up the trash. “You? Letting it get like this? You’re supposed to be the neat freak, aren’t ya?”

Jeongguk still didn’t move, he just stared as Taehyung stacked the nasty cups into one hand, and grabbed bottles with the other, muttering under his breath about ‘fermented garbage’ and ‘unbelievable.’  

Honestly, Taehyung was objectively terrible at cleaning—his idea of organizing was pushing everything into one sad little pile—but Jeongguk couldn’t even process that. 

The only thing that mattered to him is that Taehyung is here, crying for him, still worrying about him, still… caring.

And that was what undid him.

When Taehyung leaned down to grab a bottle near his feet, Jeongguk’s hand shot out, trembling, closing around Taehyung’s wrist. His head dropped, eyes fixed on the floor as his chest heaved, and then he broke, the dam bursting all at once.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk sobbed, voice cracking so bad it barely sounded like him. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, please—please forgive me. Please take me back. Please, Tae, I can’t—” Jeongguk's words then dissolved into desperate crying, forehead nearly pressed to his knees, hand still clinging to Taehyung’s wrist like he’d drown without it. “Please, I’ll do anything, I’ll fix it, just—don’t give up on me.”

There, Taehyung’s breath hitched audibly, and for the first time in a week, Jeongguk dared to look up, eyes swollen and wet, only to find Taehyung’s face streaming with fresh tears too.

Now here’s the thing… Taehyung isn’t really someone who’s built to stay mad forever. Sure, he had his pride, and sure, Jeongguk’s little confession-from-hell had managed to knock the air out of him hard enough to make him doubt every second they’d spent together, but Taehyung also wasn’t the type who carried grudges like badges of honor. 

He’d cried enough to last him through three indie films, and once the initial blaze of anger cooled down, all that was left was this uncomfortable clarity. 

Whenever Taehyung thought about the past two months—Jeongguk showing up with bag of groceries because Taehyung claimed he ‘forgot’ how to cook rice, the way he smiled like an overgrown bunny every time Taehyung teased him, the mornings where Taehyung made tea too strong and Jeongguk drank it anyway, the nights where they couldn’t even keep their hands off each other long enough to put a movie on—it didn’t line up with the idea of some elaborate scheme. 

Unless Jeongguk was secretly an Oscar-worthy actor (and please, the man could barely lie about eating the last yogurt in the fridge) , then all that warmth, all those kisses, all those stupid little inside jokes— they had to be real. Right? 

God, Taehyung really hoped so.

And actually, embarrassingly so, Taehyung had been waiting. The past two days, he half-expected Jeongguk to come running after him again, maybe throw out another apology, maybe even cry some more until Taehyung caved. 

Nevertheless, as much as he wanted Jeongguk back, Taehyung still had a shred of pride left, which meant there was no way he was going to call first. 

But… Jeongguk never showed up. 

Taehyung even went as far as wandering the campus in Jeongguk’s direction, taking routes he never usually did, hoping for some accidental run-in—but still, nothing. It was disappointing, to say the least.

If it weren’t for Hoseok cornering him earlier, practically begging him to check on Jeongguk because no one had seen him in over a week, Taehyung would’ve probably just kept waiting. 

And maybe Hoseok was exaggerating—until Taehyung walked into Jeongguk’s dorm and saw the evidence himself. There were cups of ramen everywhere, bottles of soju on the floor like trophies from the world’s saddest drinking competition, and Jeongguk was in the middle of it all, eyes hollow, looking like he’d melted into the mattress and given up life altogether. 

Ah. Fuck it.

Forget pride. Forget everything. How was Taehyung supposed to stand there, watch the man he loves rot away in front of him, and do nothing?

So yes, he gave in. Sue him.

“Shh…” Taehyung murmured, as he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Jeongguk into his arms without much finesse, basically manhandling him into his lap like the guy weighed nothing. 

Jeongguk then instantly clung to Taehyung, fingers digging into the back of his shirt, his face burying against Taehyung’s chest as if he could crawl inside and stay there forever. 

And then… the floodgates opened even wider.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk sobbed, his voice ragged, cracking apart like it hurt to even speak. “I’m really sorry… take me back, please… please, please , take me back, Tae…” Jeongguk went on. He couldn’t even breathe properly, choking on every word, his entire body trembling. He wasn’t crying neatly either—no quiet tears, no cinematic sniffles. He was a complete mess, hiccuping between gasps, nose running, clutching Taehyung so tightly it almost hurt.

And honestly? Taehyung nearly regretted leaving him to fend for himself the past few days. He’d thought space was the smarter choice, but seeing Jeongguk now—completely undone, shaking and crying in his arms—made him feel like the villain of the story. 

Because surely, this wasn’t some guy who’d been stringing him along for fun; this was a man who looked like his entire world had ended the second Taehyung walked away.

“I love you…” Jeongguk gasped out between sobs, his words muffled against Taehyung’s shirt, which was rapidly becoming soaked. “P-Please, believe me… I love you so much, Tae. So much…” He went on as his chest heaved, his words desperate, like he was trying to dig himself out of quicksand with nothing but his bare hands. “I can’t lose you, Tae. I… I just had you… please…”

And that was it. That was the breaking point. Taehyung could feel his own tears blurring his vision again, his throat tight, his chest heavy. 

Yeah, yeah… Call him pathetic, call him easy, whatever—at this point, Taehyung didn’t care. 

It’s his relationship. 

His love. 

His choice.

His Jeongguk.

“Mhm,” Taehyung whispered, tightening his arms around Jeongguk’s shaking frame. “Yes, yes, you do. I believe you.”

The words seemed to instantly fry Jeongguk’s brain. He stilled for a second, hiccuping mid-sob, before tilting his head up slowly, hesitantly, eyes red and swollen like an upset baby.

“You do?” Jeongguk asked, his voice came out small, broken, but now carrying a tiny flicker of hope.

“Mn…” Taehyung smiled then—soft, warm, despite his own tears. “I forgive you. And I love you too. So stop crying now, okay?” Taehyung added as he went ahead and gently brushed the back of his palms over Jeongguk’s face, drying his tears.

That. That finished Jeongguk off completely. 

He broke down all over again, and this time it wasn’t from guilt or regret, but from the unbearable weight of relief, of love, and of the realization that somehow, miraculously, Taehyung’s still here. 

His Taehyung. His angel. His stupidly kind, beautiful, maddeningly forgiving Taehyung. Jeongguk didn’t even think he deserved him, hah… maybe not even close, but still, he wasn’t going to let go.

There, Jeongguk practically crushed Taehyung against him, his arms caging Taehyung tightly, whispering ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ over and over in between sobs, like he couldn’t say it enough, like maybe if he repeated it endlessly, it would make up for every stupid mistake he’d done.

And through it all, Taehyung just held him, one hand stroking the back of Jeongguk’s neck, while his own tears fell silently, because honestly? He’d never really stopped loving Jeongguk in the first place.

***

<You can play this as you read.>

Daylight

Three months later, it was almost embarrassing how easily Jeongguk and Taehyung slipped back into their routine, as though the whole crying-in-the-street, dramatic-miscommunication fiasco had been a deleted scene instead of a life-altering catastrophe. 

If you asked them, they’d both insist they were taking things ‘slow’ this time, but ‘slow’ apparently meant being glued to each other’s sides 24/7, eating meals together, sleeping tangled up like a pair of octopuses, and generally being the kind of couple that made their friends gag in public. 

Was it too much, too fast? 

Maybe. 

But honestly, who the hell cared? 

Well, not them, obviously.

Actually, Taehyung had already introduced Jeongguk to his parents over a video call, which, thank God, went smoother than expected, considering Jeongguk spent the first ten minutes bowing at the laptop camera like it was a sacred altar. 

Meanwhile, Jeongguk had dragged Taehyung to meet his own family, who were suspiciously welcoming from the get-go, probably because Jeongguk had never brought anyone home before. His mother had hugged Taehyung for approximately thirty minutes while whispering, ‘You’re so handsome’ and ‘Thank you,’ repeatedly, like the guy had rescued Jeongguk from a burning building. Which, in a way, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

The only holdout in this new domestic bliss was Hoseok, and honestly, no one was surprised. Hoseok had practically raised Taehyung like a feral cat he’d rescued back when they were kids, so it wasn’t shocking that he took offense to Jeongguk’s earlier stunt. 

It took explanations, a dozen apologies, donuts, and several weeks of free coffee before Hoseok finally stopped glaring at Jeongguk like he was plotting Taehyung’s murder. Even then, Jeongguk suspected Hoseok was simply tolerating him out of love for Taehyung, but whatever, progress was progress.

And then there was Namjoon. Things between him and Hoseok were… different now. Well, not drastically so, but different nonetheless. Hoseok, who used to be entirely oblivious to Namjoon’s very obvious feelings, was finally aware, which meant their dynamic was slightly awkward in the way that made everyone else pretend not to notice. 

They’d figure it out eventually—or they wouldn’t. Either way, Jeongguk had washed his hands of the whole situation. He had his own relationship to maintain, and frankly, he was too busy being disgustingly happy with Taehyung to waste energy on anyone else’s.

Because that’s the thing. Jeongguk had thought happiness was something people exaggerated about, something that looked better in movies than it felt in real life. But then he’d wake up with Taehyung’s hair in his face, hear him laugh at something stupid he said, or feel him slide his cold feet under his legs on the couch, and suddenly the whole world didn’t seem so bleak anymore. 

The spiral he’d been stuck in for months—the endless loop of mistakes, guilt, and loneliness—had finally slowed, and then it stopped altogether.

Yeah. With Taehyung by his side, Jeongguk figured it was safe to say his Spiral Season was finally over.

—