Chapter Text
“jiminie-baby, can i use your laptop?” taehyung yells as he pushes through the door, scrambling out of his shoes and racing for the back hallway without bothering to drop his bag or even pull his socks back over his heels. they came halfway off in the whole shoes ordeal, but if taehyung just keeps walking they’ll eventually fall off and end up in little sock balls in the hallway and jimin will throw them at him during breakfast again. jiminie always looks so cute when he’s pretending to be mad at taehyung, so really, the lost sock thing is actually an asset.
“huh?” jimin calls from the back of the apartment, “yeah, did something happen to yours?” he sounds slurry and sleepy and pliant, the way taehyung loves him (one of the ways taehyung loves him, but by no means the only way).
taehyung skips happily as one of his socks falls off, ready to dive into jimin’s comfy bed and cuddle up to his napping roommate. “can’t find my charger.”
“i think it’s in my bed somewhere,” jimin says, emerging from taehyung’s room in his loungey clothes. his cheeks are flushed and his hair is messy just like it always is when he wakes up. “hi. i missed you.”
“oh my god, i missed you, ” taehyung stresses, dragging jimin into a hug, burying his nose in jimin’s fluffy hair. “i brought you that chocolate pastry thing you like from the convenience store.”
jimin laughs, bright and startled and wonderful. “wait, i bought you the melon bread that you like on my way home!”
taehyung hums, grateful and soft-sleepy almost with the way he feels so taken care of, ugh. “i love you, ugh you’re just the best.”
jimin giggles. “i love us. ”
taehyung’s heart goes all fluttery and light. “yes yes, we’re the best and i love us and i love you. seriously though, i need your laptop.”
“for?”
“i need a wikihow about how to deal with your pining friends who refuse to just date each other and get it over with.”
jimin giggles. “ that’s what you need? you can’t just do that on your phone?”
“no,” taehyung pouts, “i need a thirteen-inch screen to effectively study the techniques i can use to deal with jeongguk and yoongi-hyung. or to develop a covert operation in which we trick them into getting together.”
jimin’s giggles turn to full-on laughter, which is just about the best reaction taehyung can pull from his best friend. it’s still always a little bit shocking to taehyung that jimin legitimately finds him funny, that he doesn’t just see taehyung as a pretty windup toy whose novelty wears off after a few hours, a few twists of the spinner at taehyung’s back.
at least, taehyung doesn’t really think jimin sees him that way. only on days when taehyung’s head goes kind of fuzzy and low, when sudden sadness clouds overwhelm him and he gets quiet and moody and laughs too loud and smiles too fake and jimin can always tell, and he always reassures with calm hands on taehyung’s cheeks, the warm weight of a hug when taehyung is curled small on the couch.
jimin squeezes taehyung’s waist, most of his weight slumped into taehyung’s chest. “i’ll help you research. also i got adult snacks today.”
“oh my god, i love adult snacks,” taehyung chirps, pulling away to skip towards his bedroom. “lemme just change! hey, you made such a nice blanket nest in my bed, you’re like—the best friend ever, bring the snacks back here and we’ll work on our spy plan in this magical friendship nest.”
“obviously,” jimin calls, headed for the kitchen. taehyung scrambles into pajamas, and jimin comes in with crackers and slices of cheese and olives and chunks of salmon (adult snacks!) and then they sit curled up in each other’s arms, researching spy techniques to help them with their jeongguk and yoongi matchmaking operation, which they have decided to call call of booty: yoonkook warfare.
it’s late when jimin realizes that they should really be writing erotic friend fiction about this problem instead, and by 2:00 a.m., their shared google doc is already seven pages long.
“wait, so you’re writing a fanfic where we’re all background characters and yoongi and jeongguk are the leads who fall madly in love through a series of miscommunications, bad one-liners, and a rags-to-riches makeover in which yoongi goes from cave-dwelling sleepy music producer to belle of the ball?” hoseok asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow at taehyung.
“it’s erotic friend fiction,” taehyung explains, “you know, like from bob’s burgers. ”
namjoon blinks. “not better.”
taehyung grins and tips his head against jimin’s, the two of them united against the skeptical hobi-namjoon front. “don’t forget how jeonggukkie is the manic pixie dream girl whose free spirit and spastic yet endearing quirkiness is what draws yoongi out of his gloomy outlook on life and teaches him how to see the world from an exciting new hipster point of view,” jimin chirps, leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm behind taehyung’s shoulders. taehyung drops his head onto jimin’s arm.
“are you sure yoongi and jeongguk are the ones you wanna write about?” seokjin asks, looking at them from across the coffee table with a look that taehyung can’t quite figure out. “like, of all the people in our group, you think they’re the ones doing the most pining and dating-but-not-dating and like—them. yoongi and jeongguk. not, like, someone else.”
“yeah, obviously,” taehyung says, flailing an arm and almost hitting jimin in the face.
“oh my god,” jimin snorts, “please don’t injure yourself.”
“he was going to injure you, ” namjoon mutters. taehyung ignores him.
“yoongi-hyung and jeonggukkie have been orbiting each other since the day we introduced them,” taehyung announces, trying and kind of failing to talk quietly. after all, the two people in question are just on the other side of that wall in the kitchen together, probably avoiding eye contact and being all angsty but also making each other laugh (well, yoongi would be uttering derisive, against-his-better-judgment snorts, and jeongguk would be giggling all warm and bright and lovely) and stealing glances when they think the other isn’t looking and just—that. they’re definitely in the kitchen doing that. they’ve been in there for like ten minutes. it does not take that long to get refills on drinks.
“yeah, but jeongguk isn’t a manic pixie dream girl,” namjoon points out.
“and yoongi-hyung is already hot as fuck without a makeover,” hoseok says.
seokjin shoots him a glare.
“what!” hoseok shouts, eliciting a vague sigh from namjoon and a refusal of eye contact from seokjin.
jimin and taehyung exchange a look. god, maybe we should be writing about those three instead.
nah, because a queerplatonic poly relationship containing one (1) aromantic-pansexual character and two (2) gay boys in love with each other and kinda the aromantic dude isn’t as marketable.
hmm. true.
“so wait, are you guys actually writing this down?” namjoon asks, ignoring the way seokjin and hoseok are now abruptly enraptured in their phones.
“yes!” taehyung insists, giggling into jimin’s shoulder.
“we got the opening seven pages,” jimin chirps, waving a hand and letting it fall to rest on taehyung’s thigh. “to be fair, we did get kinda distracted after that.”
“we had adult snacks,” taehyung nods. “good thing we didn’t have any gin.”
“oh my god, i’m never drinking gin again,” jimin groans, dropping his head back against the cushions and shaking his head as he grins.
taehyung pokes him in the side. “remember the failed gin shots?”
“that’s why i’m not drinking it, you’ll just make fun of me! it was your fault i fucking missed my mouth when i went to drink the shot because we had to stand back to back for some reason and you were flailing around everywhere—”
“it was important !”
“you expected me to stand behind you and count to three and do a shot out of a solo cup—”
“yeah and you did a really bad job of it!”
“remember how right before that we went to get your bellybutton pierced and you almost passed out?”
“oh my god i sat up and had to immediately lie down again while the piercer guy gave me m&ms—”
“because you like hadn’t eaten all day!”
“i didn’t eat because right after the belly button thing we were gonna get dinner—”
“and then you almost passed out and i fed you m&ms while you lay on the piercer’s chair for like twenty minutes—”
“and then you convinced the guy to re-pierce your ears at like an eight gauge—”
“i’m pretty sure it was ten but yes—”
“wait was it twelve?”
“normally they pierce at sixteen, don’t they—”
“ guys, ” seokjin shouts, clapping his hands to get jimin and taehyung to stop. “this is why no one wants to hang out with both of you at the same time.”
jimin and taehyung pretend to be sufficiently chastised, but as soon as the group conversation resumes, they muffle giggles into their hands. yoongi and jeongguk finally emerge from the kitchen, shyly pleased as they sit down a careful distance apart and then pine woefully across the table at each other like everyone doesn’t fucking know . taehyung unlocks his phone and the screen is already on his and jimin’s chat.
~v~: omg bb was it ten or twelve tho
jimin yanks out his phone as soon as he sees what taehyung is doing, types with just his left hand so he can scratch behind taehyung’s ears with his right. taehyung flops happily into jimin’s tiny-but-comfy chest.
chimchimmy: it was def ten,,,, it hurt so much oh my god
~v~: omg gr8 glad we cleared that up
chimchimmy: omg gr8 same
~v~: btw look @kookie + @yoongi
chimchimmy: omg literally cant,, the way their HANDS r touching,,, like asdfoljkasdf
~v~: tbh am taking notes bc we need them for the erotic friend fiction.
“so, are we ordering pizza, chinese, or chicken,” hoseok asks, setting off a whole thing about the merits of each option. namjoon tries to instigate some sort of complicated cost/benefit analysis which obviously fails immediately, and taehyung hums happily in jimin’s lap and giggles along at all the right parts of the conversation, wondering at the fact that in all the infinities of the universe, the multi verse, there is literally nowhere else he would rather be than right here.
they end up agreeing on delivery pizza despite the outrageous cost (“this is the one thing america is getting right about life, cheap pizza that’s actually good, ” namjoon grumbles, prompting the usual “we get it, you lived in america” from seokjin). jeongguk and yoongi spend the rest of the night touching each other’s hands whenever they reach for stuff, and it’s really fucking cute and makes taehyung’s stomach flip over just to look at it.
finally it gets late. “you ready to head out?” jimin asks, carding his fingers through taehyung’s hair some more.
taehyung moans. “no. your hair pets are the best, jiminie. i love you.”
jimin grins, pleased and preening as he shoves halfheartedly at taehyung’s shoulder. “love you too. but come on, we gotta get the train.”
“look,” taehyung whispers, sitting up and nodding to the door. yoongi and jeongguk are talking again, something like are you sure you’re okay getting home? i’m sure, yoongi-hyung. hyung can walk you if you want, it’s late— you don’t have to, i mean…if you’re sure. yeah, bunny, let’s go.
“think they’ll hold hands once they’re safely out of the building?” jimin asks, grinning against taehyung’s shoulder as yoongi and jeongguk offer a soft goodbye and head out together.
taehyung nods. “oh, definitely.”
jimin yawns and stands, offers a hand and hauls taehyung up next to him, doesn’t let go. “come on. if we hurry, we might be able to spy on them.”
“call of booty: yoonkook warfare is a go,” taehyung grins, pulling his hand away. there’s something whimsical lingering in the wake of yoongi and jeongguk, something cloying sweet and heady in the entryway, and taehyung flutters over to the door the way jeongguk walks when yoongi is around, like he’s sort of nervous but also gliding on air, too giddy and in love not to lift off on a fairy-magic beam of sunshine. jimin pads after him all careful like he’s trying not to startle a little furry baby forest animal, a simulacrum of yoongi-in-proximity-to-jeongguk.
taehyung fiddles with his keys at the door. “night, minnie,” he teases, grin pulling at the edges of his lips. his tummy is all fluttery and floaty, his head suddenly a mess even though they haven’t been drinking for once.
“you sure you’ll be okay getting home?” jimin says, and maybe there’s a hint of real concern, maybe he can tell that taehyung is—kind of spacey, kind of worn and in need of care.
taehyung is no stranger to this effect with jimin. with others, too, who have made him feel dizzy and small, only it’s always better with jimin because jimin knows taehyung like no one else does. jimin can’t possibly know the way taehyung goes malleable and docile with him, can’t be really that aware of it—but taehyung lets himself fall into submission, the safety of surrender. he pouts out his lower lip, widens his eyes, curls in on himself. “i’m okay,” he murmurs, timid but hopeful. “i’ll be safe.”
“it’s late,” jimin says, a tenebrous glint turning his brown eyes to molten gold, making taehyung shiver. a shy whisper in taehyung’s head says that jeongguk acts this way around yoongi too; a stronger melody lilts around the fact that this is deeper than method acting, for jimin and taehyung alike. jimin pushes hair out of taehyung’s eyes. “i can walk you home.”
“you don’t have to,” taehyung whispers, almost believing it—there’s a ghost of yoongi and jeongguk here, and jeongguk’s phantom is inhabiting taehyung’s body, sending tremulous little hope-shivers through his tummy, making him want to curl up in the hollow of jimin’s ribs, tuck himself tight against the pale curve of jimin’s throat.
“it’s okay, baby,” jimin says, stepping closer, secret and indelible and sure of himself.
“okay,” taehyung says, half tripping over the warm vanilla sugar of the word, all his hopes fulfilled, at least for tonight. “if you’re really sure it’s okay.” not even sure what he’s asking for anymore, not even sure what game they’re playing. accepting, nevertheless.
“i’m sure,” jimin says, slipping into his shoes, standing patiently as taehyung climbs into his own.
“goodnight, hyungs,” taehyung calls, breaking the scene. he hates the way the feelings dissipate in the wake of the play-acting viscerally and vehemently, with such a force he surprises himself.
“night,” jimin chirps, smiling all crescent-eyed and happy at the hyungs, who have somehow ended up in some complicated card game that involves a lot of slapping and cursing and yelling.
“night,” seokjin calls, waving a hand, entirely focused on the game. namjoon and hoseok don’t even bother with that much. jimin and taehyung slip out into the hall, close the door; the shouts are muffled now but still clear and ringing in the dark seoul night, and taehyung skips down the walkway, his earlier submissive delirium turned to sweet, childlike delight. he spins in a circle, throws a grin over his shoulder at jimin.
“those three,” jimin says, shaking his head fondly.
“ shhhh, you’re not supposed to know about that,” taehyung whines, tipping his head back in feigned exasperation.
jimin giggles. “yeah, i know. but you told me anyways,” he singsongs, tipping into taehyung’s space with cozy familiarity.
“i was supposed to take that to my grave, jiminie,” he pouts, licking his bottom lip.
“you came home from jinnie-hyung’s and told me as soon you walked in the door,” jimin teases.
“i knoooow ,” taehyung moans, tipping himself all along jimin’s side.
“it’s okay, tae-baby. we can tell them to bury us in the same grave, you know, so then you’ll have upheld your faithful oath to seokjinnie-hyung!”
“and joonie-hyung. and hoseokie-hyung.”
“you vowed secrecy to all of them? they told you all about their very much requited crushes—well, i guess not crushes for joon-hyung because he’s aromantic but like, queerplatonic interest i guess?—on each other separately and you promised them all not to tell, separately? ” jimin shrieks.
taehyung laughs and laughs and laughs. “i’m very good at getting information out of people!” he shouts, and when jimin tries to ruffle his hair, he darts ahead, racing down the hallway. jimin lets him get a good ten feet away and then takes off in a sprint, rushing up to jump on taehyung’s back. taehyung staggers with the force of it but he’s laughing, and jiminie has always been tiny even with all that muscle, so it’s pretty easy to dart into the elevator, jimin still on his back, and kick the lobby button with his foot.
“think they’ll get together before yoongi and jeongguk, or after?” taehyung asks, lighting up when he realizes the tinny music in the elevator is some weird knockoff instrumental of one of his favorite american pop hits.
“hey, it’s that song we like!” jimin chirps, arms loose around taehyung’s shoulders, face nuzzled into the back of his neck. “also, my bet’s on yoongi and jeongguk. hoseok and namjoon are still all weird because they’re like, technically broken up but they still act like they’re not, and jinnie-hyung won’t admit to liking either one of them.”
“yeah, that’s true,” taehyung sighs. “how many times have joonie-hyung and hobi-hyung broken up so far this year? like six?”
“they’re so annoying, ” jimin says. “just pick. ”
“i think jin-hyung would be good for them. he’ll give hobi the commitment and romantic love they both need, and joonie will feel better with two people to sleep with and have intimacy but without the responsibility of reciprocating romantic love or, like, being in a relationship that might one day involve marriage or whatever?” taehyung muses, hitching jimin up higher on his back. “but that’s gonna involve a lot of communication for all three of them, which makes me think they’ll take longer than yoonkook. although, well. you know yoongi. always out to make things hard on himself before the universe can beat him to it.”
jimin giggles and kisses the back of taehyung’s neck. “whatever. wanna go home and watch that new k-drama chanyeol was telling us about?”
“only if we can have ice cream too!”
they don’t have any ice cream in the freezer when they get home, so jimin goes out and gets taehyung’s favorite.
in the already questionable composition of taehyung and jimin’s friend group which includes a music producer and two professional dancers and a broke college kid and a person with a phd in library science (three guesses who) and taehyung , kim seokjin is without a doubt the most surprising member. he’s a trust fund baby through and through, and he works for his family company—something to do with business that seokjin is of course unreasonably good at, schmoozing clients and managing subordinates and bringing in more money to buy more yachts. he has an apartment in gangnam and one in myeongdong. he has a flat in harajuku and a villa in some undisclosed location which might be bangkok. he bought everyone in their clique matching diamond rings just because of the ariana grande song. he throws parties that he calls “galas” on a quarterly basis in accordance with the changing seasons.
which means that when the beginning of june rolls around, everyone gets actual mailed invitations on heavy cream-colored paper embossed in dark shiny blue: a midsummer night’s dream gala, 7:00 p.m., 21 june, hosted by kim seokjin. taehyung and jimin spend two weeks in gleeful anticipation while their friends spend two weeks pining over each other and being just as annoying as always, and finally, finally, the 21st rolls around.
“come on, let’s get ready now,” taehyung whines as he and jimin lie on the couch, jimin splayed out on top of taehyung’s chest as they browse through their phones.
“it’s only like 4:00 p.m.,” jimin says, voice muffled by the way his mouth is pressed to taehyung’s hoodie.
“yeah but i still don’t even know what i’m gonna wear—oh, hey, kookie is calling me.”
“put him on speaker!”
taehyung does as he’s told. “hey, jeonggukkie! jiminie’s here too.”
“um. hi,” jeongguk says, all quiet and shy. jimin and taehyung exchange a concerned glance.
“hon? you okay?” jimin asks, scooting up so he can rest his cheek against taehyung’s shoulder, one leg thrown lazily across taehyung’s lap.
jeongguk sniffs and stays silent for a second before he takes a big breath. “i’m okay.”
“you don’t sound okay, sweetie,” jimin says, voice soft and sweet like caramel vanilla cream and hazelnut macchiatos. he always sounds like that when he takes care of too-drunk taehyung or sick taehyung or sad taehyung, and hearing it makes taehyung’s stomach flip in achy, delirious delight.
jeongguk sniffles again. “i just—am kinda freaking out about what to wear tonight, and i messed up blowing my hair and the straightener is just making it worse, and i don’t know what to do and i’m just—” he breaks down crying.
“kookie,” taehyung coos, sitting up and forcing jimin with him, still cuddled up close, head dropping onto taehyung’s shoulder in momentary, casual affection.
“aw, baby, want us to come over?” jimin offers.
taehyung nods. “yeah, we totally will! please, jungoo? pleeease? ” he smiles into the elongated syllables, and jimin leans in and kisses his cheek like he can’t help it. taehyung shivers in undisguised delight.
jeongguk makes a sad little choking sound. “it’s okay, i just—i just needed to tell someone, like i don’t really…”
“jeongguk,” jimin chides, but soft and careful and concerned. taehyung leans forward and kisses his neck, because he just really likes jimin so much all the time. but especially now, when he’s being all sweet with their frightened rabbit maknae.
“hyungs,” jeongguk sniffs.
“we’re coming,” taehyung promises, smiling softly as jimin traces patterns on his forearm. “we’ll be there soon, okay?”
“aw, honey,” jimin says as soon as jeongguk opens the door. jeongguk is hunched over with his arms wrapped around his waist, all tear-stained and with his hair in a flattened wreck.
“can we hug? i wanna hug all of us,” taehyung demands, and jeongguk immediately sinks forward into jimin and taehyung’s arms. they shuffle awkwardly forward (taehyung dragging a suitcase with some outfit choices and makeup and nail stuff that they took on the train despite the mean looks the rush hour crowd gave them for it) until they’re safely inside the tiny single room.
“hey, come on, let’s get your hair better,” jimin whispers as jeongguk finally pulls away.
“how?” jeongguk pouts. “i fucked with it too much and now it’s all flat and terrible.”
jimin huffs. “go shower again, baby. i know it’s annoying, but you really did straighten the fuck out of it.”
“fuck,” jeongguk mumbles.
“aw, bunny,” taehyung whispers, reaching out to ruffle jeongguk’s too-flat hair. “namjoonie-hyung would scold you for cursing. you sound like yoongi but less frightening.”
jeongguk’s startled big eyes look up at taehyung, and jimin nudges taehyung in the side. “i um—” jeongguk stutters, “i—oh. yeah. i don’t know. guess i picked it up from him. saying, like. ‘fuck’, and stuff.”
taehyung grins, ruffling jeongguk’s hair. “it’s cute. you’re really cute, you know?”
“i’m not,” jeongguk mumbles, staring at his feet and shifting awkwardly.
“you are,” taehyung says, heaving the suitcase onto the bed to start rifling through it. “but i meant that you and yoongi-hyung are really cute.”
“we’re not—it’s not—hyung doesn’t—”
“yes, he does,” jimin assures jeongguk, smiling as he leads jeongguk back to the communal dorm bathroom so jeongguk can rewash his hair.
“does not,” jeongguk mumbles, following jimin dutifully out of the room. taehyung busies himself getting the makeup and nail polish unpacked; he hangs up his trousers and jimin’s, frowns when he realizes jimin’s shirt got more wrinkled than taehyung’s for some reason, and taehyung thinks about offering to switch so his jiminie can look perfect, but then he remembers that his shirt will swamp jimin’s tiny frame, even with all that musculature.
it’s an image to behold, jimin draped in one of taehyung’s too long button-downs. maybe on a calm spring morning, the time of year when they leave the windows open all night and at dawn the sun pours in, gilding jimin’s skin all rose gold and glowy. taehyung sees fabric parting to show off jimin’s delicate collarbones, slipping over the smooth ball of a single shoulder. he knows the shape of jimin well from years of looking and paying attention, knows the dimensions by touch from how much they hang all over each other.
taehyung fingers the sleeve of his silky blouse and thinks maybe he should feel guilty for imaging such a sight as jimin in only this shirt when he has no permission; but the beauty of it stalls all forethought of impertinence to nothing. jimin looks beautiful in taehyung’s head, the whole scene is beautiful—and that’s the whole point of aesthetics, isn’t it? aesthetics like the philosophy namjoon is always talking about, the study of that which is beautiful, or more precisely that which is sublime —
jimin is sublime, always, and not just in taehyung’s mind. taehyung may not have any serious dominion over him, nor over the body which houses him, but jimin’s sublimity, his divine beauty, can be done no disrespect in the admiration of it. especially not by taehyung, who knows the gossamer-fine threads of him, of park jimin the soul, park jimin the whole concept. taehyung knows jimin’s habits, the things he likes without restraint, the things he loves without expectation. knows jimin’s insecurities, his fears, his regrets. taehyung knows the tattoo on jimin’s ribs, the piercings in his ears—small rebellions, proof of a dark occasional grief behind those disarming crescent eyes and mochi cheeks: a minotaur-haunted maze inside the heart of that boy, a maze which taehyung knows how to lead jimin out of, the ariadne to jimin as theseus.
(and maybe—maybe jimin thinks the same things about taehyung, thinks taehyung is pretty and delicate despite his height, likes taehyung’s imperfectly pudgy tummy and the way he gets his words in the wrong order sometimes and how he has little baby ghosts that haunt him too, grow sometimes and make him scared—)
the silk shirt glissades suddenly off the hanger to puddle on the floor, a button slipping free beneath taehyung’s fingers. the shine of it evokes some unfamiliar nostalgia, impossible as that may seem: morning intimacy, hours spent too hot between summer sheets, sweet sticky sweat and wet kisses and all those other lovely pleasure-syrups—and taehyung sees jimin standing up out of bed, shirt dripping off the bed onto the floor. the smile on jimin’s lips would be strawberry gloss and crooked front tooth, his tousled hair would be taffy-pastel and easter magic. taehyung would drag him back to bed with eyes closed against the overpouring love his heart couldn’t bear to keep contained.
“hey, are our clothes okay?” jimin asks, sweeping back into the room with his hair pushed out of his eyes, his dark brows on display beneath fading pink-purple locks. his eyes are light gray and sparkling.
taehyung’s heart jumps, warmth pooling in his tummy as he smiles, giddy. “c’mere, do you have— whoa, your contacts are like—they have stuff in them!”
“yeah,” jimin giggles, opening his eyes wide as he tips his head back. taehyung rests his palms on jimin’s cheeks, leaning in so close their noses are almost touching. jimin smiles. “i got them in hongdae a couple weeks ago, remember? they have little white dots in them to make your eyes look sparkly!”
“aww, i want a pair!” taehyung whines, knocking his forehead once against jimin’s and then pulling back to fling his arms out at the clothes. “anyways, the clothes are fine. your shirt got a lil’ wrinkled, though.” taehyung frowns, and jimin darts up to kiss his cheek, fingers landing in taehyung’s hair and scratching all shivery and perfect. taehyung closes his eyes and hums and trembles.
jimin coos. “cutie. okay, first of all, don’t worry! you weren’t paying attention in the contact shop because you were busy whining about how you wanted to go to skinfood, so i got two pairs because they were the buy-one-get-ones! so you can have the other pair.”
“but our prescriptions are different,” taehyung whines, burying his head in jimin’s shoulder, pressing his head into jimin’s lovely stroking fingers.
“yeah, i know,” jimin says.
“so i can’t wear them.” heat in taehyung’s tummy, a furry creature curling up into a sweet little coil in the core of him.
jimin keeps his fingers gentle as taehyung purrs, huffing fondly. “i mean i know, so i got the second pair in your prescription. obviously.”
taehyung lifts his head, grinning wildly. “really?”
“obviously,” jimin whispers, eyes flicking down from taehyung’s eyes to land somewhere around his lips, all shy and honey-milk sweet.
“clothes!” taehyung chirps, leaping away to tug at the wrinkled sleeve of jimin’s button-down again. “sorry, i must not have folded it carefully enough.”
jimin steps up to examine the sleeve. “hmm. it looks okay, i mean, i’ll be wearing a jacket.”
“and a vest,” taehyung says, yanking another hanger out. “see, i thought this one would go with the whole outfit.”
“oh, shit, ” jimin breathes, eyes going wide. “yes, this is so cute, you’re literally perfect. baby, i love you so much.” jimin turns and wraps his arms tight around taehyung’s waist.
taehyung’s smile is so wide it makes his eyes close as he hugs back. “glad you’re happy!”
“you always know,” jimin says, muffled into taehyung’s chest, close close close, just perfect. He squeezes taehyung’s ribs and then pulls away. “okay, come on. we gotta get kookie ready to blow yoongi-hyung’s socks off.”
taehyung nods. “rip yoongi-hyung.” jimin nods back, serious indeed.
“holy fuck,” jeongguk whispers, staring wide-eyed at his smokey eye, the contoured cut of his cheeks, the pink gloss on his lips.
jimin leans in with a wicked, seductive grin. “you’re going to kill him, kook. he’ll have no choice but to pay attention to you like this.”
jeongguk shakes his head, confidence swelling his chest up, his shoulders back. “nah, fuck that. yoongi-hyung isn’t getting anything from me. i’m young and hot and if he doesn’t care, then i don’t either.”
“finally figuring that out, koo-baby?” jimin teases, dangerous and arousingly cruel.
“yeah,” jeongguk breathes.
“that’s right,” taehyung nods, honestly a little bit turned on by the ruthless power he’s seeing in both jeongguk and jimin right now. “you show him.”
jeongguk sniffs, haughty—something out of seokjin’s book. “come on, let’s go. i’m ready for this fucking party. min yoongi, eat your fucking heart out.”
when jimin and jeongguk and taehyung walk into the party a fashionable 45 minutes late, things have already taken an embarrassing turn for the too drunk . seokjin’s coworkers are rowdy and loud, and the cover band is blasting an early 2000s track in semi-okay english. aside from the general air of impropriety and ludicrous revelry, though, the banquet hall is done up to the nines, as of course it would be when under the jurisdiction of kim seokjin. there’s mood lighting and lovely silvery drapings hanging along the walls and across the ceiling; the staff is dressed in expensive-looking uniforms, and seokjin himself is practically a centerpiece for the whole bacchanalia in his impressive and obviously pricey hanbok.
“jesus,” jimin whispers, tugging taehyung down to speak into his ear, “does seokjin already have a harem and we don’t know about it, or is he taking applications tonight?”
“better let namjoonie-hyung and hoseokie-hyung know. we all know they’ll want to be first on the list,” taehyung says, voice pitched low. jeongguk is already scanning the crowd for yoongi.
“hey, jeonggukkie, what happened to ‘min yoongi, eat your fucking heart out’?” jimin asks, smiling at taehyung as he leans away to drape himself along jeongguk’s side instead. taehyung frowns and tugs jimin back, and jimin giggles and takes taehyung’s hand.
jeongguk pouts over at jimin and taehyung, crossing his arms and shrinking his shoulders. “i’m just looking,” he says. “i have to be prepared for if he sees me.”
“‘ if ’,” jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes and swinging taehyung’s hand back and forth. “jeonggukkie, min yoongi is going to see you and literally die of how pretty you look, all right? taehyungie and i really worked our magic on your look, huh.” he nudges taehyung’s side, and taehyung smiles with his lips closed, just shy of proud.
“i want him to like me, not just how i look,” jeongguk pouts, the angst level skyrocketing from zero to typical afternoon in yoonkook land like it always does when either the ‘yoon’ or the ‘kook’ is around, especially when one is around without the other.
not that they’re not angsty together too; it’s just that when they’re angsty together, they’re usually not talking to anyone else, so it’s easier to ignore.
jimin huffs up at taehyung and shakes his head. children.
taehyung nods. both of them. and yoongi-hyung acts like jeongguk is the immature one.
jimin rolls his eyes. he just thinks he’s all high and mighty because he’s older.
“will you stop doing that,” jeongguk says, reaching out to shove taehyung’s shoulder.
“doing what?” taehyung asks.
jeongguk is not amused. “that thing where you guys have silent conversations and leave the rest of us out.”
taehyung turns back to jimin, blinking. we do that?
jimin shrugs. i guess?
“ stop, ” jeongguk groans.
“sorry, kookie,” taehyung says.
“yeah, babe,” jimin nods, reaching over to rub at jeongguk’s arm. “we didn’t mean to. anyways, you’re right. yoongi should like you for you. and he does, okay? i know it’s hard for you to believe, but. he does. really. he just needs a little push in the right direction, yeah? and jeongguk, this makeup we did—it isn’t for yoongi. it’s for you. ”
jeongguk’s baby bunny eyes look up, all wide and frightened. “huh?”
taehyung smiles and leans over to kiss jeongguk’s forehead. “yeah, hon. we did it for you, so that you would feel good and confident and lovely. not for anything to do with stupid yoongi.”
“why is yoongi stupid?” hoseok’s voice asks, and then he and namjoon are clumsily invading the circle, both already clearly drunk.
“i mean, not denying that he is, ” namjoon says. it’s the kind of comment that sober namjoon would either not say or would say in a confusing, intellectual, roundabout way that would leave everyone untangling the words for a minute during which namjoon would disappear, leaving everyone to realize yoongi had been insulted only after namjoon and his ridiculous gangly limbs were safely far, far away.
jimin grins and grabs taehyung’s hand again. “because he’s mean to jeonggukkie, and so we did kookie’s makeup as revenge makeup, but it’s for kookie. not for yoongi.”
“not for stupid yoongi,” jeongguk revises, a little bit mumbled.
hoseok’s face lights up and he literally leaps off the ground. “that’s perfect! you look amazing, and this party is amazing, and my drink earlier was amazing —seriously, joonie, what was in that one again? was it tequila and rum?”
“it was better than the four whiskey sours you consumed before that, whatever it was,” namjoon says, swaying calmly.
“drunk joonie-hyung mellows drunk hoseokie-hyung out,” taehyung murmurs in jimin’s ear.
jimin nods along. “and drunk hoseokie-hyung makes drunk joonie-hyung smile.”
“and yet, they are no longer a thing.”
“i know,” jimin laments.
taehyung sighs. “why are all our friends so dysfunctional.”
“why are we not on their level right now,” jimin gripes, sighing as namjoon shoves the rest of his drink into jeongguk’s hand and jeongguk downs it in a single go.
“well, well,” seokjin strides up with a reticent (and angsty, obviously ) yoongi in tow. “look what the cat dragged in.” he eyes all of them up and down appraisingly.
“well, well,” hoseok says, drunkenly tapping a vicious finger at seokjin’s chest. “speak of the devil and he shall appear.”
“is that why my ears were burning?” seokjin snips.
“um, we were actually talking about yoongi-hyung,” namjoon says. which is factually speaking true and pragmatically speaking missing the point.
“me?” yoongi asks, eyes flicking around the circle until they land on jeongguk. there’s this ridiculous romcom moment where yoongi’s whole posture shifts, his shoulders straightening as his eyes go wide, mouth parted like he’s genuinely caught off guard.
“yeah, you,” jeongguk shrugs, all confidence and cool beauty.
yoongi swallows. “oh. hey, jeonggukkie.”
jeongguk tips his head and looks over at jimin and taehyung. “you guys wanna go get drinks?” he doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s sauntering away. taehyung and jimin follow, clinging to each other and trying not to squeal.
“congrats, jin-hyung!” jimin chirps, jumping up and down in his suit and pulling off his jacket, handing it to seokjin. taehyung drags his own blazer off and tosses it—somewhere. maybe hoseok grabs it; taehyung doesn’t really care. he’s drunk, and it’s summer, and a good song is blaring through the club they’d headed to once it got too late for seokjin’s party to continue and still maintain some of its original pretense at being classy.
they do another round of shots at the bar—even namjoon, who normally makes sure he’s the least drunk person in the room. and, okay, taehyung is sure namjoon is still the least drunk, but they’re all really drunk right now, so the difference is negligible. namjoon and seokjin are deep in conversation about, like, pot lids and some video game and people being sad about the price of pot lids in said video game, and taehyung grins at them and then at jimin, and of course jimin gets it and smiles back.
yoongi and jeongguk disappear as soon as the shots are done, and everyone else migrates to a table in a cloud of buzzed excitement, collapsing into the booth with the nonchalance of revelry, all white-toothed smiles and dizzy laughter. taehyung and hoseok talk for a while before yoongi and jeongguk show up again all pleased and kind of ruffled and smiley; somehow those two are actually less of a disaster when they’re drunk. the house music switches suddenly and taehyung jumps out of his seat and only realizes he’s still holding hands with jimin when jimin kind of falls into him with the force of the motion.
“shit! you okay?” taehyung yells, because nooo, jiminie, don’t fall over because of me! but also, jiminie is taehyung’s best friend ever, and their favorite song is just dropping into the fucking awesome hook.
“fine, come on!” jimin shouts back, grinning, already dragging taehyung to the dance floor with the kind of focus seokjin always gets when he’s looking at food, or at namjoon. or hoseok.
“dance with me,” jimin demands as they find a divot between bodies, a nice jiminie-and-taetae shaped space that forces them close. oh. taehyung likes close. jimin’s crooked smile is shining brilliantly up at him, and they’re moving to the beat, taehyung’s fingers hooked in jimin’s belt loops, they shout the words at the ceiling. everything is delirious drunk pleasure, giddy happiness, jager and redbull like the shots earlier, bittersweet delusions of grandeur. they’re young and wild and free; they deserve to play at opulence.
the motion of a guy behind them stumbling breaks taehyung from his poppy-drugged daze, and he’s quick to yank jimin out of the way of the falling body, hands clutching at the small of jimin’s back as the guy spills into the space they were just occupying. the guy’s friends tug him upright and taehyung doesn’t let jimin go, even with the way their hips are now all flush together and it’s hot, everything is burning . jimin doesn’t even quirk an eyebrow or ask what happened; he locks eyes with taehyung and moves his hips deliberately, his hair icy and glowing, his colored contacts making his pupils all big and innocent. taehyung shivers to see the smirk on jimin’s lips that says he’s anything but.
the song changes to something darker, more rhythmic, and jimin’s smile drops into satisfied seduction. the lights change in accordance with the new beat, and jimin’s arms go up around taehyung’s neck, his lashes dipping to fan across his cheeks. he looks back up at taehyung with lidded eyes, fucked out and drunk and gorgeous.
“turn around,” taehyung yells, ducking in to press the words against jimin’s ear. jimin easily settles in so he and taehyung are entirely aligned, their bodies working together as taehyung’s hands cling teasingly at jimin’s hips.
it’s not like jimin and taehyung have never done anything like this before. they were best friends all through college, and they’ve gone to house parties and clubs and bars and raves and concerts and festivals together. taehyung was there when jimin tried mdma which was good because jimin was, like, extremely wild that night and taehyung was thankful he was sober to keep jiminie safe.
the song goes darker still, something flat-out describing sex now, and taehyung lets his head tip forward, mouthing at the back of jimin’s neck. there’s a sheen of sweat trailing down from jimin’s hair, and taehyung laps it up without overthinking, pulls jimin even tighter against him.
jimin drops his head back onto taehyung’s shoulder and a thrill like victory shoots down taehyung’s spine, pooling in his belly. allowed, allowed, taehyung is allowed to touch, to taste. he tips his head and bites at jimin’s throat and feels the rumble of a moan in jimin’s chest. taehyung keens, because he wants to be good. wants jiminie to think he’s good, can make him feel really good and nice, can live up to jimin’s expectations.
“can i, minnie,” taehyung asks, loud enough that he’s sure jimin hears it. jimin growls back and it makes taehyung shiver. “can i please, please can i be good i can be good.”
“ fuck, ” jimin groans, and then he’s grabbing at taehyung’s hair and fear floods taehyung’s belly because jiminie is gonna pull him away, but then instead jimin holds taehyung in place and it’s so pretty and soft, the way jimin shudders as taehyung tongues at his neck.
(so they maybe have given each other hickeys before too, but that’s just because that one dude in jimin’s choreo class would not leave him alone and the best solution they could come up with was for taehyung to leave a bunch of platonic protection hickeys on jimin’s neck, and—well, it worked. jimin had also given taehyung a bunch of hickeys so their story would hold up if the dude also happened to run into taehyung, not that taehyung even knew the guy—but whatever, that’s not unreasonable.)
“you’re so pretty, taetae,” jimin says in taehyung’s ear, and taehyung shudders, eyes closing with the flood of arousal that spikes unbidden from his tummy like shooting stars sparkling across every inch of him. jimin smirks; he knows that taehyung gets kinda spacey in bed, that he likes to be good and get pushed around a little and follow orders despite his size. jimin knows because they talk about everything.
the beat drops hard and taehyung’s hands move of their own accord, dipping down towards jimin’s belt, spreading out possessively over his stomach. “like this?” taehyung asks.
“no,” jimin growls, and for a second taehyung whimpers even as he falls into caretaker mode, hands flying off jimin’s body as his eyes widen, ready to help—but jimin is just turning around, a cold, forceful look darkening his eyes as he yanks taehyung in forwards this time. their chests are all pressed together, their feet tangled on the sticky club floor. taehyung can’t help the desperate shiver that runs through him, because jimin knows taehyung gets like this, like this, and he keeps doing this sort of stuff anyways.
okay, so to be fair, jimin probably doesn’t know that taehyung regularly gets like this for jimin , but still.
jimin drops his head back and pulls at taehyung’s shirt, and taehyung’s lips find jimin’s neck again like magnets drawn together by the laws of nature. jimin’s throat is bared and taehyung bites at his collarbone, sucking over his pulse point. jimin’s hand tangles in taehyung’s hair and tugs, and taehyung can’t help his whimper. he’s dizzy and drunk and falling into this headspace here, in public, and jiminie—jiminie is guiding this, making taehyung want to rub his thighs together and squirm and press himself forward into jimin’s flat stomach.
“like this,” jimin commands, working their hips together with more purpose than they’d had before. he yanks at taehyung’s hair again and taehyung can feel his eyes going glassy.
taehyung can’t help the plea that drops from his lips. “minnie, please.” he isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking for, but he trusts jimin to know for him. jimin does know, because he pulls taehyung’s hair again and his eyes go all commanding and sharp, and then he drags taehyung in and taehyung whimpers and closes his eyes.
“earn it,” jimin spits, and taehyung keeps grinding against him, both of them shamelessly turned on and not even trying to hide it. taehyung is practically drooling as he drops his forehead to jimin’s shoulder and begs—
“ jiminie. please. ”
“come on, then,” jimin says after a delirious minute during which taehyung clings and shudders and teases jimin’s earlobe with his tongue, trying desperately to be good. jimin pulls taehyung up by the hair, locks eyes, blinks a question that taehyung answers with closed eyes and a low, pained sound. when taehyung opens his eyes again, jimin’s eyes are smoldering, pupils all blown out and dark.
their lips meet and taehyung lets out a hh-hn sound, feels jimin’s lips quirk up against his own as he tastes the illicit whimper. taehyung’s hands are shaky and uncoordinated as he fists jimin’s shirt; his tummy is clenching and his knees are weak and rubbery, and jimin’s tongue licks deliberately at taehyung’s lips. jimin’s hands fit around taehyung’s waist and his fingers are small but strong, at risk of poking taehyung’s ticklish spots, but jimin seems to know exactly where to grip to send shuddery delight everywhere at once, and taehyung goes impossibly tense and boneless at the same time, sinking below the surface of hazy heatstroke pleasure, a mirage in the desert made real by jimin’s thaumaturgical fingertips.
for a first kiss (second, technically, the still-online-ish part of taehyung’s brain chides), it’s still the best kiss taehyung has ever had. not that taehyung hasn’t had some damn good kisses; he made out with jeongguk that one time and it was very nice until jeongguk finally admitted for the first time out loud that he was in love with yoongi. taehyung has had his share of hookups too, although he rarely goes all the way or even lets anyone take him home; for taehyung, the love part of sex is just too important to all the other parts of sex.
but now there’s this. of course taehyung loves jimin, so there’s good reason for the easy vulnerability of lit-fuse firecracker heat sparking real desire up taehyung’s spine, down low low low. this is fine, taehyung would think, if he could think. they’re just, like, friend making out on a dance floor in the middle of itaewon on a friday night as normal as any other. this is fine.
taehyung is vaguely aware of the music changing, but he can’t keep track of anything except jimin’s sharp vanilla-mint scent, his lascivious tongue. jimin isn’t hurrying the kiss, and it’s as natural as anything taehyung and jimin do together, which is everything. they’re roommates, so they’ve seen each other sick-puking and hungover-puking (luckily not pregnant-puking, because that’s impossible probably, although taehyung doesn’t want to rule anything out). they watch movies and eat too much fried chicken and play overwatch and complain about their jobs. they’ve talked about adopting a puppy. they bought all their furniture together, even their (unfortunately) separate twin beds, which confused the sales guy because they could’ve just bought them separately and it would’ve made a lot more sense, but taehyung and jimin are a team so their beds are on the same receipt. that receipt is stuck to their fridge with a magnet they bought together in myeongdong. (they just paid for the magnet with their joint cash, though.)
anyways. taehyung isn’t really thinking about any of that while he’s kissing jimin at the club, but he is at least a little bit thinking that they do everything together. and now kissing, too. kissing is now a part of the everything that taehyung and jimin do. and that’s cool. taehyung’s head is really fuzzy and he’s possibly going to fall over into jimin’s hold, but taehyung has done that before, like, a lot of times, so he’s not exactly bothered by it. jiminie will hold him up.
taehyung can feel the club receding, can feel the press of jimin’s lips all guiding and insistent, dragging a delirious taehyung through each step of the dance. their hips are flush together but that’s less sexual tension and more a careful ruse to keep them both standing—jiminie is clever with his legs, his muscles, his grace. taehyung relies on it and lets his head float away.
“tae,” jimin whispers a few minutes later, when their lips part for just a breath. taehyung can feel insistent heat gripping his ankles, tendriling up through his legs, flooding his chest. he rubs himself off against jimin’s thigh, his tummy is all floaty, his head is full of cotton candy and jiminie jiminie jiminie —“tae, you with me?” jimin whispers, pecking at taehyung’s lips without letting their tongues pick up the rhythm they’d had a few seconds earlier.
“yeah,” taehyung whispers, trying to open his eyes. he feels dopey and dumb, kind of electrified. like he might spark and electrocute anyone who isn’t jimin.
jimin chuckles, fond. “tae, come on. we’re in a club, you’re drunk, you need some food.”
“hmm—yeah, okay, jiminie,” taehyung manages, his tongue all thick and defiant against the words he’s trying to say.
“yeah, come on.” jimin smiles, and taehyung lets his chin drop to his chest for a second before he finally drags himself back to the surface, lifts his eyes and blinks at jimin, happy and sedate.
“can we get kebabs?”
“sure, baby.” the endearment makes taehyung whimper even though they’ve always called each other cheesy pet names like that. seokjin sometimes get so sick of it that he goes all chaotic evil (everyone else calls it chaotic good but taehyung and jimin know better) and makes terrible puns or animal noises until they stop.
“water first,” jimin instructs, leading taehyung to the bar. they both down a glass and then taehyung drinks another at jimin’s insistence, and the cold of it shocks taehyung back to present a little, lets the curling arousal in him dwindle to a manageable buzz.
“lemme tell everyone we’re leaving,” jimin says as he ferries them to the exit, pulling out his phone. he manages to text one-handed as they step out onto the noisy street. the humid may air washes over them, cool-ish but it’s definitely going to be a hot summer. taehyung’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he checks it but it’s only jimin in the group chat—
chimchimmy: taetae n i r heading off
chimchimmy: have fun be safe use protection
“usual kebab place?” jimin asks, tugging taehyung along, their fingers intertwined.
“yeah,” taehyung murmurs, just about to put his phone in his pocket when it goes off again.
myg: should say the same to you, park jimin
jin: yeah we all saw you two
“taetae, careful!” jimin yips as taehyung stumbles, trying to text back.
“sorry, you okay?” taehyung asks, worried—but jimin is fine, not tugged down by taehyung’s near-fall at all.
“i’m good,” jimin grins, swinging their hands between them.
~v~: wt r u talking about??
“hyungs being weird?” jimin asks, catching the look on taehyung’s face as they stop at the end of the line stretching from the kebab stand. “or is it jeongguk?”
taehyung shakes his head. “not jeonggukkie. i don’t know, you know how they are.”
jimin grins. “whatever, just because they all don’t have best friends to make out with sans angst or drama,” he teases, and then he starts singing their favorite song, and it’s taehyung’s favorite song too and they’re both still kinda drunk, so taehyung sings along. when taehyung and jimin are happily passing back and forth one of the two kebabs they’re splitting, taehyung checks his phone again.
kimnamjoon: just give up, guys
kimnamjoon: we all know this is just how things are now
taehyung is unfortunately the kind of human who gets hungover from a single beer, and he’d had five shots, so he collapses into jimin’s bed as soon as they get home. jimin has to drag him into a joint shower, but that’s nothing new because everyone in the friend group has showered with taehyung at some point. they crash together, and taehyung spends the next day in bed with jimin scratching his hair.
neither one of them mentions the kiss.
“so you’re really not at all pining?” seokjin demands, arms crossed as he fixes taehyung with his most skeptical chaotic evil look.
“i literally don’t know what you’re saying,” taehyung says, looking around the kitchen for jimin. “jeongguk and yoongi are the ones pining, not me. who would i even be pining over?”
seokjin’s expression drops into something exasperated and fond. “wow.”
“okay, well, i’m gonna go watch yoongi and jeongguk pretend not to look at each other,” taehyung says, carrying a drink for jimin in one hand and his own in the other.
“that’s yoongi- hyung to you,” seokjin screeches as taehyung heads through the door and almost knocks directly into jimin. a grin breaks immediately over taehyung’s face.
“jiminie!”
“taetae!”
“this one’s for you, it’s vodka-cranberry because it’s your current favorite!”
jimin’s smile is blinding and taehyung tries to take a sip of his drink but spills because he’s grinning back and it’s kind of unmanageable.
“oh my god,” seokjin groans, but before taehyung can ask why, jeongguk bursts into the kitchen. he looks distressed and kind of angry and like he’s about to fall apart.
“kookie,” jimin says, jerking out of taehyung’s hold. he rubs jeongguk’s back and taehyung joins him, pressing a hand to jeongguk’s forehead as the kid trembles in the corner of the kitchen, shoulders drooping.
“hey, jeonggukkie, what happened?” taehyung asks. seokjin has joined the huddle, and he offers out a cup of water that jeongguk takes in a weak hand.
“seriously, honey, what’s the matter?” jimin asks.
jeongguk shakes his head. “nothing. it’s not—it’s stupid.”
“no, no, baby,” jimin coos, “whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”
jeongguk laughs and it sounds all hollow and sad. “fine. it’s not stupid; i’m stupid.”
taehyung exchanges a glance with jimin and then strokes at jeongguk’s hair, tipping his forehead in to press it up against jeongguk’s temple. “you’re not, jeonggukkie.”
“i’m young and naive and dumb and i don’t even know why i ever thought—” jeongguk chokes on a sob and hiccups instead, covering his mouth with both hands and ducking his head as he blinks furiously against tears.
“thought what, kookie?” jimin asks, crowding in closer to tug jeongguk into his arms. it turns into a four-person group hug, and taehyung strokes one hand up and down jeongguk’s back and the other up and down jimin’s.
jeongguk sniffles. “nothing.”
“hey, um,” seokjin says, quietly, drawing away from the group hug and looking around the room like he’s making sure they won’t be walked in on. “jeongguk-ah, does this have anything to do with yoongi?”
jeongguk sniffs and shakes his head, and then he tries to laugh again and taehyung has to hold jimin’s head because the sound of it is really sad. “it’s—it’s nothing, hyung,” jeongguk says. “i don’t wanna…say mean things. about anyone.”
“like about yoongi-hyung,” taehyung says.
jeongguk shrugs.
seokjin shakes his head. “jeon jeongguk, you really are the most incredible treasure to exist on this earth. don’t look at me like that, honey—i mean it. you are the most pure, honest, darling creature, and anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you.”
jeongguk shrugs again, pulling his hands away from his mouth to blink disappointedly. “it’s not fair, though,” he whispers. “if he doesn’t deserve me, then why do i have to—have to want him like this?”
seokjin takes jeongguk into his arms again and taehyung and jimin step back, still holding hands, to stand on the sideline and offer silent solidarity. seokjin rubs jeongguk’s back. “i know it’s not fair, honey. but if it helps, he’s just scared. you’re younger than him, and a couple years ago, maybe that was more of a problem. but you’re 22 now, and you’re an adult, and we all think it’s okay even if he can’t quite see that yet.”
“well then why did he kiss me and then just—just—”
“you guys kissed?” taehyung asks, surprised and also kind of not surprised at the same time.
“we hooked up at the party,” jeongguk bursts out, pulling away from seokjin and wrapping his arms around himself like he’s trying to hold himself together.
jimin and seokjin and taehyung exchange incredulous looks. “you—like, all the way?” jimin asks, distressed.
jeongguk chokes on a sob. “just—we kissed in the bathroom. for a while. and talked, like—it was cute. and sweet, he was so sweet, and he held me so—carefully. when he…i mean. we’ve hooked up before. so.”
“hooked up, like…” taehyung asks, gently.
jeongguk peers up at them from beneath his thick bangs. taehyung knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “yeah,” jeongguk whispers, gaze cast down to the floor. “like all the way. it was—like a year ago now.”
“ what, ” seokjin demands, straightening up to his full intimidating height and looking like he’s about to go on a crusade.
jeongguk shrugs. “it was—i wanted to. we both wanted to. but i want more, i’ve always wanted more, and yoongi-hyung thinks it’s stupid,” he says, sagging again into seokjin’s shoulder.
seokjin sighs and gathers jeongguk close. “yoongi has been hurt before, a lot. he’s jaded, and you’re still so hopeful. he’s probably scared. he’s…i didn’t know, kookie. i’m sorry. that i didn’t know. and i’ll be honest—i think it’s kind of fucked up of him to hook up with you—more than once, even, especially if he actually genuinely doesn’t want anything with you—and still drag you along like this.”
“i said i could be his hope,” jeongguk whispers, eyes wide and unseeing, lost in memories. “he was sad, and we were talking, and my heart was fucking aching from how sad he was. and we—slept together. the first time, in his bedroom, and it was just—so nice. but now, i mean, he’s drinking tonight, we all are, and he’s sad and so i said maybe we could just go home or something, leave the party because i thought—since we hooked up again a few nights ago, like maybe he’d want to—he’d finally decided he could—but—he just—i told him i could help him feel better, and bolster him up, and be strong for him when he needs that but he just doesn’t want me to. said me being hopeful and still believing in him is foolhardy and naive. and he shouldn’t have done it. kissed me, or slept with me in the first place. or the second place, i mean—it happened more than once,” jeongguk says, high and sarcastic and self-deprecating. “he thinks i’m silly to keep wanting him when he’s just going to hurt me. even though he already is, and i’m never gonna not be in love with him, and—”
“to him, it is silly. love, i mean,” seokjin says. seokjin has known yoongi the longest of any of them; of course he knows. jimin and taehyung exchange a look and scoot closer, unlinking their fingers to wraps their arms around each other’s waists.
“he thinks i’m stupid,” jeongguk whispers.
“he’s afraid that all the stuff that’s happened to him is gonna happen to you,” seokjin explains. “he’s afraid your dreams are going to get crushed, or that…well.”
“what,” jeongguk asks, sounding sort of like he doesn’t really want to hear but also like despite all of what’s just happened, he is still hopeful. he still believes seokjin is going to tell him something sweet to get him by.
seokjin smiles. “he’s afraid you’re going to get your heart broken, and it’ll turn you cynical. like…like what happened to him.”
jeongguk tugs himself back from seokjin’s embrace and fixes him with a confused look. “yoongi-hyung got his heart broken?”
seokjin nods. “you should talk to him about it. not me. but…i think he’s scared of hurting you and making you lose hope, get jaded like he is. he just doesn’t realize that by pushing you away, he’s doing exactly the thing he’s trying to avoid.”
jeongguk’s shoulders slump. “but how do i convince him of that?”
this time, jimin steps in. “jeongguk, honey. you don’t have to convince him anything. let him come to you. he’ll see that you’re not going to hurt him, and he’s not going to hurt you. because you do believe in him, and—i mean, i’m not saying that you should let him manipulate you or do stuff that’s really not okay. but just talk to him. don’t talk to him with any goal in mind, don’t practice the conversation in your head beforehand. just go talk to him, and call him on his shit when you need to, and he’ll come around. he trusts you, kook, more than he trusts any of the rest of us. but hyung is kinda bad at showing it sometimes. he has a hard time believing in things.”
“he and namjoon-hyung were talking about the whole ‘mystery of faith’ concept the other day,” jeongguk whispers. “joon-hyung was saying how amazing it is that people believe, like religion but also in true love and stuff, and—well, you know how he gets all intellectual and reverent about things. but yoongi-hyung just ranted about the mystery part, not the faith part. like, ‘yeah, it is such a fucking mystery, how the fuck does anyone actually believe anything?’ and namjoon said maybe it’s ’cause they need to, and yoongi was like, ‘well, that’s stupid, but also there are definitely people who just believe, and to me that’s just, like, such a fuckin’ mystery’.”
jeongguk finishes with a huff and then shakes his head. “sorry. i said i wasn’t gonna say mean things about people.”
“it’s okay, honey,” jimin says, rubbing jeongguk’s arm. “and just because you’re a believer doesn’t mean you and yoongi can’t work out. but…if he is treating you badly. if it hurts too much, kookie, you gotta know when to let go, yeah?”
“i know,” jeongguk whispers to the floor.
“hey, no, none of that, guk-ah,” seokjin says, tugging jeongguk back into his arms and stroking his hair. “you’ll be okay. if it’s meant to be, it’ll be. if yoongi keeps being a fucking dickwad, i’ll punch him for you. deal?”
jeongguk’s laugh is watery but genuine. “okay, hyungs. thanks.”
“we love you, kookie,” taehyung says, leaning over to kiss jeongguk’s forehead, and then he kisses seokjin’s and jimin’s just for extra luck. “you’re really strong, and pretty, and wonderful.”
“that’s right,” jimin says. “we love you.”
taehyung’s heart goes all warm warm warm. seokjin and jeongguk leave the room, but taehyung and jimin stay in the kitchen, the sounds of the house party muffled by the closed door.
“you’re really wise, jiminie,” taehyung says, holding jimin’s hand as they sit on the counter and sip vodka cranberry.
“you’re really good at touch stuff,” jimin says back, swinging his legs back and forth, heels drumming the cupboard below. “like, you’re so soothing with your hugs and back stroking and everything.”
taehyung smiles. “wanna sleep in my room tonight?”
“don’t i usually?” jimin teases, smiling back.
“yeah,” taehyung admits, suddenly shy, his heart flutter-thumping. jimin is right there, gazing up at him with pink lips and pastel hair and angel eyes, and taehyung can’t but think of club lights, dark beats, hair tugs and swollen lips and kissing—
“you wanna head out early and do that, or…” jimin offers.
taehyung raises his eyebrows as music starts blaring through the door. think about the kiss, the kiss, it started out with a kiss how did it end up like this it was only a kiss—“i mean, i kind of wanna dance first,” taehyung says, shoving away all memory of that particular cotton candy lip gloss mouth on his.
“yes! me too!” jimin shouts, dragging taehyung off the counter. they both down another shot each, and then they head out to the packed living room. jeongguk and yoongi are nowhere to be seen, hoseok and namjoon are behind the computer fucking with the playlist, and seokjin is talking to some tall and beautiful girls in the corner.
taehyung’s hands find jimin’s hips easily, and they get lost in the music as they move together, eyes locked, jimin’s arms around taehyung’s neck.
“so namjoon and i are back together,” hoseok announces on friday movie night, apropos of nothing.
“what? when did you decide that?” yoongi grumbles, raising an eyebrow as he glares around the living room.
“yesterday,” hoseok says, tossing himself down onto the loveseat with namjoon, who immediately starts stroking his hair. “we’re having a party. to celebrate.”
“did you guys even talk about this before right now?” seokjin asks, sinking lower in his chair and crossing his arms.
“yeah?” hoseok says, snuggling deeper into namjoon’s lap. “i mean, obviously, like we didn’t just right this minute decide we wanted to try dating again. or, like, doing our queerplatonic thing, whatever.”
“i meant the party,” seokjin grumbles. “i meant did you just right now decide to have this party you’re apparently throwing.”
“it’s just for us,” namjoon clarifies.
hoseok nods. “like, right now, this hangout is officially transformed into a party, and the seven of us are the ones who are having it.”
seokjin rolls his eyes, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s fine. jimin squeezes taehyung’s hand.
“this is stupid,” yoongi complains, sliding lower into the couch. “jiminie, c’mere and snuggle me so i can lie down and go to sleep.”
jimin glances at taehyung and then at jeongguk and then at yoongi. it’s not very subtle. “um. sure, yoongi-hyung.”
“jeonggukkie, come snuggle me,” taehyung whines, hoping this will fix—well, something. jeongguk slinks over, obviously trying not to look at yoongi. when he sinks into the couch, all the fight goes out of him and he sags into taehyung’s embrace, staring across the room at a similarly posed yoongi and jimin with angst literally radiating off of him. taehyung strokes jeongguk’s hair and feels his heart breaking for his friends: seokjin is off on his own looking fake-happy and yoongi is avoiding eye contact with everyone and namjoon and hoseok even look a little guilty and jeongguk is here collapsed in taehyung’s arms all defeated and sad.
and jimin. jimin looks shaky and upset when taehyung finally settles his gaze on those plush lips, those crescent eyes. jimin looks back at taehyung with unrestrained sorrow, and taehyung wishes yoongi would sit up and let jimin come back and be all vulnerable with taehyung the way he always is, because taehyung and jimin trust each other.
“hey, yoongi,” seokjin says all of a sudden, breaking the tense silence that has fallen over the living room, “can i talk to you in the kitchen?”
not even subtle. yoongi opens his eyes with a falsified yawn and regards seokjin with suspicion for a grand total of a second before following him out of the room.
“come here,” taehyung breathes, and jimin launches himself across the room and into taehyung’s arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck. jeongguk goes to pull away but jimin and taehyung hold him close too, all of them buried in each other, faces hidden so they don’t have to look around the room.
“um,” hoseok says after a minute or so of more weird silence. “did we do something?”
“hyung’s in love with you,” jeongguk says, sitting up despite jimin’s whine of protest and sighing like he’s exhausted.
“with namjoon?” hoseok asks, at the exact same moment namjoon says, “with hoseok?”
namjoon and hoseok look at each other. blink once, twice. jeongguk lets out a frustrated growl-scream-thing and buries his head in his hands.
jimin and taehyung sit on the couch all tangled together, lips bitten and heartbeats echoing the same half-relieved, half-lamenting song because seriously? the root of the problem, all this time, has been this?
“hyungs,” jeongguk murmurs, self-deprecating, “have you two been not making a move on seokjin because you think he’s in love with the other of you and you don’t think he’s in love with you? that sentence was really confusing but the point is, he’s in love with both of you and you should really just include him in your queerplatonic whatever.”
“kookie,” hoseok says, confused and kind of pitying. the tone makes jimin stiffen and then huddle further into taehyung’s arms. hoseok shakes his head. “kookie, come on, honey, seokjin-hyung doesn’t—he isn’t in love with me. he’s always liked namjoon, and if anything i feel guilty for like…being with joon, but if seokjin wanted something then he would’ve said something by now. he’s not exactly shy, you know.”
jeongguk shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. “no! you’re wrong. you three need to talk, okay? please. i say that as someone who is overwhelmingly in love with someone who’s never going to love me back, and it really fucking annoys me that i have to sit and watch you three dance around each other not acting on how you feel because you don’t fucking talk —because trust me, yoongi-hyung and i talk all the fucking time and it doesn’t fucking help anything!” jeongguk is breathing hard now, and he stands up, kind of shouting as he goes on. “and you two, ” he yells, rounding on jimin and taehyung.
“kookie—” namjoon tries to cut in.
“no!” jeongguk says, stomping. “no, this is so—this is so unfair, because i’m just here being treated like a fucking kid when i’m just here fucking painfully in love and i’m the only one who will fucking say it and i’m the only one who doesn’t—who doesn’t get anything! hoseok-hyung and joon-hyung will talk and realize they both want to also be with jin-hyung, and jimin and tae are like so in love it’s ridiculous and i—i—”
jeongguk’s voice breaks as he sucks in a sharp breath, staring horrified across the room. taehyung furrows his brow, looking to the left suddenly to seek out jimin’s gaze, only then he realizes—
seokjin and yoongi are standing in the kitchen doorway, staring wide-eyed into the room. seokjin is looking at hoseok and namjoon; yoongi’s eyes are fixed on jeongguk, who stares back for a few impossible seconds before he breaks down sobbing and rushes for the door, slipping into his boots without tying them.
“jeongguk,” yoongi says, voice panicked and sharp as he launches after him.
“i—” jeongguk chokes, pausing for a just a second before he shakes his head and shoves frantically out of the apartment with yoongi right behind him.
“um,” seokjin says, startling out of his reverie as the door slams.
“um,” namjoon echoes. “jin-hyung? maybe we should talk.”
“yeah,” hoseok says, nodding. “um. yeah.”
“sure,” seokjin says, sounding faint. “right now, or like…”
“oh,” taehyung says, sitting up and jostling jimin out of his arms by accident. he quickly tucks jimin back in, and jimin goes without fuss. without any sort of reaction at all, really. “we’ll go.”
“yeah,” jimin murmurs. “movie night kind of got…”
“yeah,” taehyung nods. “so. um. see you guys later?”
“oh, yeah,” seokjin sighs. he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up in a way it never looks. “sorry, you two. text me when you make it home?”
taehyung nods. “we’ll check on kookie too, let you know when he’s okay.”
“if he’s not, we’ll go over to his place, make sure,” jimin agrees. “um. come on then, tae.” he stands up and offers a hand, and taehyung takes it, and then they don’t let go.
jeongguk’s words ring loud and clear in taehyung’s mind.
and jimin and tae are like so in love it’s ridiculous—
and.
well.
yeah.
only taehyung hadn’t noticed until just, like, now.