Work Text:
taehyung is relieved when he leans over to take a closer look at the man he’s been eyeing for the past forty seconds and finds out that he does in fact look exactly like his pictures. yoongi, 24, his bio had said, and he looks every inch of yoongi, 24, from the square black glasses to the platinum blonde hair to the artfully ripped and slim-fitted dark denim jeans that taehyung can’t help but imagine would look great crumpled inside out on his bedroom floor.
ok. admittedly he’s a little desperate. admittedly he’s a little touch starved. it’s been a little over two months since he and jungkook called it quits, and he’s starting to get pretty sick of his own hand.
“take a picture. it’ll last longer,” yoongi advises him when taehyung finally makes his way over to the small ironwork table he’s sitting at. it’s a few degrees cooler in the shade of the striped green awning, and taehyung’s glad he opted for the light jacket. he catches sight of his reflection in the plate glass mirror. his collarbones peek out the top of his charcoal v-neck, dragged down the slightest by a heavy pair of aviators; his hair is artfully mussed and teased to look both planned and tousled like he just rolled out of bed; he’s spent a few minutes biting and chewing at his lips so they’re softly swollen now.
you’re wearing your fuck me look, he hears in his head. jungkook had always loved this look on him, and he blinks hard to rid himself of the thought.
“thanks for the advice, yoongi, 24,” he replies, trying not to smile too wide as he plops himself down in the seat across from yoongi. “maybe later, though.”
“later?” yoongi’s flat tone makes taehyung look up from the menu, worried that the date is over just as quickly as it’s begun. there’s a slight smile dancing around the older man’s eyes, though, and the relief that hits him shortly after is nothing short of overwhelming. yikes. he’d known he had it bad, but for some reason, he’d thought it wasn’t quite at this level yet. “you’re being an optimistic one.”
“that’s what’s lovable about me,” taehyung brags, trying to inject a self-confidence he doesn’t feel into his voice. “always optimistic.”
“what’s lovable about you remains to be seen, though i like your ambition,” yoongi says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face now, and taehyung’s confidence settles into his skin again. he’s still got it, he wants to crow. he still knows how to be charming and clever and quick, still knows how to define himself without jungkook by his side.
“what are you going to get?” taehyung asks, turning his attention to the menu and scanning over the items.
yoongi purses his lips, studying the menu intently. “dirty chai and a chocolate muffin, probably,” he says after a few moments. “i keep saying i’m going to try something new, and then it never happens. i’ve just stopped pretending at this point.”
“so not probably, then,” taehyung replies before he can stop himself. he’s always had a sharp wit and a sharper tongue. “sorry,” he amends quickly, catching yoongi’s quirked eyebrow. “that might have come out a little hostile-sounding.”
yoongi studies him appraisingly over the top of his menu. “unfortunately, taehyung, 22, i think you’re just cute enough that i wouldn’t mind you being a little hostile with me.”
oh, taehyung thinks, taken aback. so that’s how it is. granted, he hadn’t agreed to this potential date, hook-up, fuck, whatever this is, with any other intention, but it’s a little different to hear it out loud.
“we might manage,” he agrees, forcing his attention back to the menu and hoping that yoongi won’t notice the way his hands are shaking slightly. “you’ve been here before then? are the crepes any good? though i guess you wouldn’t know, since you always get the same thing.” he’s aware that he’s talking too fast, trying to fill the spinning whirl yoongi’s words have made in the middle of his mind.
yoongi smirks through the whole thing. he’s gotten the upper hand on this interaction by far, left taehyung floundering for purchase in unfamiliar waters.
“someone’s a little shy, hm?”
taehyung flushes, takes a shaky sip of iced water to try to cool himself down.
“don’t worry, i think it’s endearing. it makes you look downright corruptible.”
taehyung opens his mouth to protest, but his attention is caught by the silvery jingle of bells hung over the patio door, ringing cheerfully as the waitress ushers a new couple to the patio table behind yoongi, placing down the menus and going quickly over the daily special before flouncing back inside. his words die and shrivel in his mouth as he catches sight of jungkook over yoongi’s left shoulder.
“you okay?” yoongi’s question has him wrenching his gaze away from jungkook, who still hasn’t noticed anything. “you look like someone walked over your grave.”
“hopefully they were wearing nice shoes,” taehyung tries to joke, but it comes out wrong, his voice all choked and funny-sounding. he knows it’s completely irrational, knows he has no right to feel this nauseating jealousy, knows that it isn’t fair to him, to jungkook, or to yoongi, 24.
“hm.” yoongi doesn’t sound convinced, but lets the matter drop, much to his relief. “so. taehyung, 22. your bio said you were a student. what are you studying, what year in school are you, all those standard questions. i’m sure you know the drill.”
“right.” taehyung pauses to let the waitress take their orders - dirty chai and chocolate muffin for yoongi, strawberry crepe and double shot mocha for him - before clearing his throat. “journalism, last year of school. i’ve got an internship lined up at the daily post after graduation already.”
to his gratification, yoongi looks rather impressed. “impressive,” yoongi confirms a moment later. “the job market for domestic journalists is pretty saturated these days.”
“i’d like to do travel journalism if possible someday,” taehyung replies, brightening and warming up to the subject. now, he thinks, they’re getting somewhere. “i want to travel europe, get paid for all the touristy things.”
“like what?”
“oh, you know, like the vatican, the louvre, buckingham palace -“ he’s interrupted by the clear sound of jungkook’s ringing laugh, high and pure and sweet at something the man he’s with has said, and taehyung bites hard on the inside of his cheek to try to distract himself from the sudden knife-sharp pain that’s suddenly lodged itself between his ribs, making it hard to breathe. “stuff like that,” he finishes lamely.
“enjoy school while it lasts,” yoongi comments, reflectively, sighing and tilting his head to the right to massage away some unseen ache. the position leaves taehyung a straight line of vision to jungkook. taehyung doesn’t want to admit it, but jungkook looks good. looks radiant, even. his skin looks all glowy like he’s just stepped out of a good scrub and rinse with the grapefruit body wash he always favored. he’s wearing a button-up that drapes beautifully over his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and taehyung’s always been weak for that. his mouth looks pouty and perfectly kissable, but taehyung can’t figure out for the life of him why jungkook would be pouting until he lets his gaze travel farther up, and -
oh. jungkook’s noticed him. noticed him noticing him. the expression in his eyes is something that looks like a mix of anger, irritation, and something else taehyung doesn’t quite want to put a name to. he lets his eyes fall back to the tablecloth quickly, tries to force his attention back to what yoongi is saying about his semester abroad in taipei.
their food comes somewhere in the middle of yoongi relating some story or other about dancing on tables in nightclubs, and taehyung has never been more grateful to have something to do with his hands. he barely tastes the crepe he’s ordered, nearly chokes on the small bite of chocolate muffin yoongi breaks off and offers to him, definitely burns his tongue on the first sip of his mocha.
"you always drink too fast," jungkook admonished him, tutting as he watched taehyung wince after the first sip of coffee. "it’s like you always forget that coffee is hot."
"maybe i’m just always looking for excuses to get you to kiss it better." he’s always had a sharp wit.
jungkook rolled his eyes but indulged him anyway. their coffee cups clattered in their saucers on the table of their favorite cafe, splashing a stain onto the title page for chapter 3 of taehyung’s borrowed international relations book. he didn’t even mind paying the fee the scandalized librarian had hefted on him, had just dug out his wallet and tried not to smile as he remembered the way he’d taken jungkook back to his place after that and rolled the both of them into the sheets, tasting like bitter espresso and sweet chocolate.
“do you like the food?” yoongi asks, and taehyung startles, stuffs another bite of crepe into his mouth.
“it’s good,” he agrees, though if he’s being honest, the taste is entirely forgettable. there’s something synthetic tasting about the whipped cream, and the strawberries sliced inside are a far cry from ripe. “is this your favorite place?”
“yes, it is,” yoongi says, taking a sip of his chai. it leaves a small film of foam on the bow of his upper lip; taehyung watches him lick it off in a move that he’s certain isn’t purely innocent, and is discouraged to find that the calculated gesture hasn’t affected him at all. “it’s close to work, it’s good for its price point, and they do a pretty nice dirty chai.” yoongi quirks an eyebrow at him over the top of his mug. taehyung can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like, dozens of mornings spent like this, a new favorite place that he doesn’t even particularly like, a new favorite person who he can’t focus on because he’s too hyperaware of jeon jungkook sitting only a few feet away.
jeon jungkook, who’s smiling - too hard, taehyung thinks - at the young man sitting across from him. jeon jungkook, whose laugh sounds brittle like glass, the laugh that taehyung had heard far too much of the last few weeks they had considered themselves together. jeon jungkook, who, despite the frustration and confusion bubbling behind his strained expression, still looks so beautiful taehyung could weep.
“what do you do for work?” taehyung’s aware that he’s grasping at straws at this point. he’s always been a smooth talker, a good communicator, knows full well that yoongi works in marketing for some international clothing chain whose name escapes him at the moment. it was on his dating profile, and normally he’s good at the little details, but it’s a bit hard to focus when he can feel jungkook’s stare burning into his skin.
yoongi’s lazy drawl turns into a sort of background hum two sentences in, and taehyung can’t keep his attention from slipping.
“i want to do photography,” jungkook had whispered to him one late sunday morning after the both of them had gotten up, showered, and had a lazy breakfast before returning to bed. “for a career, i mean, not just as my major.”
“photography?” taehyung had asked, not opening his eyes, too busy reveling in the way jungkook fit into the dips and hollows of his body. “what kind of photography?”
“any kind. lifestyle, i guess. it kind of tends to get overlooked, don’t you think? with all the current events. serious topics, you know, with capitals s and t.”
“hm.” taehyung’s reply was noncommittal. “that’s where all the glory is.”
“i don’t need glory when i have you.”
“ - recently we’ve launched an inclusivity campaign in response to public demand for more diversity in model sizes, so that’s been something i’ve been spending a fair amount of time on recently,” yoongi finishes, and taehyung scrambles to find a good response.
“that’s interesting,” is all he manages to come up with. yoongi takes another sip of his dirty chai, rolling his eyes now, and taehyung can tell this isn’t going nearly as well as he’d hoped.
“you’re not very good at first dates, are you?” yoongi inquires, not entirely unkindly. taehyung just shrugs, tries to appear suitably scolded, and definitely tries hard not to think about the way jungkook had asked the exact same question on their first date together.
“you’re not very good at first dates, are you?” jungkook asked, but his tone isn’t so much exasperated as it is pleased. they’d known each other for three years at that point, three years of suffering through unrealized opportunities and flirtations, until taehyung had lost his patience, had cornered jungkook at a frat party and kissed the living daylights out of him in a cramped bathroom where someone had been passed out in the shower stall not two feet away. “though i’m pretty sure you kiss after the first date, you know.”
“hey, you weren’t complaining at the time,” taehyung had muttered, the tips of his ears burning red. he’d buried his face in the menu and prayed that jungkook wouldn’t notice his blush.
“no, and i wouldn’t complain now if we decided to just skip all this nonsense and just go back to mine,” jungkook had added. “you can take me out for pizza later, if you still really want to go on this whole, uh, date thing.” this last statement was accompanied with a vague wave of jungkook’s hand.
“i, ok, yes,” taehyung had begun, the words barely out of his mouth before jungkook had stood up, the chair legs scraping against the patio’s cobbled stones.
“come on, then,” jungkook had said, laughing as he’d reached down to haul taehyung out of his chair. “daylight’s fading, and i want to get the opportunity to see all of you.”
“no, i guess it’s not really my forte,” he admits, laughing in embarrassment and hoping yoongi hasn’t noticed how often he’s been looking over his left shoulder, hopes that yoongi hasn’t noticed how many times he’s caught jungkook’s eye and forced his gaze away. “trying to get back into it, though.”
“hm.” yoongi doesn’t sound entirely unsympathetic to his cause. “practice makes perfect, i suppose.”
“guess so.”
“though we can’t have more than one first date, i certainly wouldn’t be opposed to practicing with you. you’re cute, and if your texts are anything to go by, you’ve got a sharp wit.”
taehyung’s heart gives a sickly little leap at the unexpected affirmation. he’d fully thought yoongi might be dismissive. disinterested, even; he knows that if he’d been sitting on the opposite end of the table, he wouldn’t have even come close to entertaining the thought of a second encounter. the next heartbeat brings something close to nausea, because his traitorous eyes can’t keep from straying to jungkook every two seconds, and how can he even consider dating someone that isn’t him? the mocha churns violently in his stomach, and he takes a few slow, deep breaths, staring at a fixed, stubborn streak of chocolate stained on his saucer.
“i feel like it’s always our first date,” jungkook said, laughing as he reached out to wipe away a smudge of whipped cream on the corner of taehyung’s mouth. the slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake taehyung had nicked from the fridge in the comm students’ lounge hadn’t stood a chance with the two of them around after he’d let jungkook in during dead week, tempted by the promise of steaming coffee and jungkook’s sleepy hugs.
“oh? why’s that?” taehyung asked absentmindedly, wondering if there’s any other tasty goodies lurking in the back of the fridge.
“i always get so excited for the next one, because these first ones always goes really well.”
“you just said not too long ago that i’m a shitty first-dater.”
jungkook’s laugh was high and clear, like a bell.
someone’s phone vibrates on the table, and he has a vague hope of reaching out, turning his phone over, and finding a message from jungkook on his screen. yoongi gets to his phone first, though, a moue of distaste curling over his face. his dark eyes dart over the screen, left right back again, and taehyung can’t help but think that if he goes through with whatever this thing with yoongi might turn out to be, he’ll always be coming in second.
“hey, sorry about this,” yoongi says finally, not without a little disappointment. “work has an on-call policy, and apparently there’s some sort of emergency.” he wrinkles his nose across the table at taehyung, rolling his eyes, and a laugh bubbles out of taehyung’s throat against his will. he can feel jungkook’s gaze on him again, burning, and tries to swallow the laugh as quickly as it had appeared.
“don’t laugh, i know it’s absolutely ridiculous,” yoongi retorts, but he’s laughing, too, just a little. “marketing emergency. the two words together sound pretty silly, i’ll be the first to admit it, but that’s just the way the world works sometimes, i guess. as much as i’ve been enjoying this, i’m afraid i’m going to have to jet.”
“aw, alright,” taehyung replies, pouting up at yoongi with an expression that he knows jungkook’s always been weak for. the high-pitched sound of jungkook’s laughter, clearly forced, indicates he’s been seen. it’s thrilling, in a way, to know that he still has that kind of power. “i hope everything goes okay at work.”
“me, too,” yoongi sighs, shrugging back into the artful dark leather jacket he’d draped over the back of his chair earlier. taehyung wonders if he can feel the way jungkook’s eyes race over his frame as he unfolds himself from the chair, wonders if yoongi knows how lucky he is that stares aren’t daggers. “it’s beyond me what kind of emergency this could possibly be. you didn’t even get to finish your coffee.”
“i’ll finish up here,” taehyung promises, the small smile around the corners of his mouth just as much for jungkook as it is for yoongi. he can’t make out what jungkook’s date is saying, but jungkook’s reactions have always been easy to read for him, and they all scream that the interaction isn’t going well. “i was never one to let good coffee go to waste.”
“that’s alright,” yoongi replies, grinning back. “i know the coffee here is shitty. i’ve tried it, you don’t need to lie to me. i think i’d prefer it if you live long enough for me to see you again.”
“i think i might prefer that, too,” taehyung laughs back, and is relieved to find that it’s not a complete lie. yoongi’s cute, he’s got a mouth on him, and his eyes hint at deeper thoughts that taehyung doesn’t think he’d mind exploring sometime. “but it kills me inside to pay an arm and a leg for anything that’s not drip and not finish it.”
“have it your way,” yoongi shrugs. “i know when to let something go.”
“i know when to let something go,” jungkook huffed angrily, “but this isn’t one of those times, taehyung.”
taehyung looked up from his laptop screen. he had an article for his advanced communications class due in, oh, checking the clock, twenty-four minutes and thirty-six seconds, and he’d barely typed more than three sentences. he’d been finding it hard to care about the fate of the coral reefs when the rift between him and jungkook had been growing deeper and deeper with every passing day.
“can this wait?” he asked, already regretting it the instant the words were out of his mouth.
“no, it can’t.” jungkook’s expression was pinched, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and taehyung could tell he’d been trying to hold back tears. “you don’t listen to me. i feel like i’m talking to myself half the time. you never open up to me, and i never feel like i can open up to you. i feel like i’d be better off without you.”
taehyung sighed, had clicked his laptop shut and set it aside on the coffee table. “babe, what’s this about?” he asked. the communications article would just have to wait, the professor liked him anyway, and he was sure he had at least one more cajoling apologetic email left in him before he went to sleep for the night. “school has been crazy busy lately.”
“we were supposed to see my parents today, you asshole! you know, introduce you and me and the whole concept of us,” jungkook all but shouted at him. taehyung recoiled in shock. he’d never heard jungkook so angry before.
“no, wasn’t that tomorrow?” he asked, knowing the answer full well before he’d even opened his phone to look at his calendar, at the reminder “meet jungkook and parents for dinner” he’d silenced a few hours ago before holing himself up in one of the reserved rooms at the journalism library. he’d lost track of time, his mind bogged down with bylines and deadlines and lines he should’ve used to apologize to jungkook for everything. by the time he’d gotten home, he’d forgotten completely. “ah, shit.”
jungkook was fuming, and taehyung was completely out of his element here.
“i’m sorry,” he began weakly, but jungkook held up a hand to stop whatever other pathetic apologies were to follow.
“i don’t deserve this,” he hissed, his voice choked. definitely crying, taehyung knew, and his heart twisted fiercely. “i’m done with you.”
“wait,” taehyung whispered, but it was too little, too late. the door slammed shut behind jungkook, out of his life as quickly as he’d entered it. a scream built up in his throat, one that he’d been carrying around ever since. the email to the professor apologizing for his late assignment had never been sent, the article had never been written, and it had been all he could do to keep from dissolving into tears every time he found something lying around his tiny apartment that had belonged to jungkook, that jungkook had given to him.
“alright, then,” he forces himself to say now, smiling in what he hopes is a sunny manner up at yoongi. “i’d better let you get going. adulting is hard.”
“that it is. drop me a line, won’t you?” yoongi asks, and before taehyung can react, he leans down and pecks taehyung fondly on the corner of his mouth. his lips are smooth, the kiss entirely impersonal, and yet he can’t help but think that jungkook wouldn’t interpret it as such. he wonders what it means, the hurt happiness he feels at the knowledge that jungkook might think he’s moved on.
“i will,” he murmurs back, but yoongi’s already walking away, his attention on the screen of his phone, and he’s given an unimpeded view of jungkook. he looks disgusted, looks horrified, looks like he’s eaten something bitter. he’s never been good at hiding his emotions, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and taehyung finds himself extraordinarily pleased to see jungkook’s date shaking his head slightly before pushing back his chair and getting up to leave.
the bells over the patio door jingle violently, an angry silver flash, before the door swings shut behind him. taehyung doesn’t have a moment to take another sip of his terrible coffee before jungkook is standing up, the chair legs squealing over the ground, and all but racing over to plop himself into yoongi’s recently vacated chair.
“you asshole,” jungkook begins, his voice thick with tears that taehyung can’t see yet. “you ruined my date.”
“how did i ruin it?” taehyung asks, tightening his grip on the handle of his coffee cup so jungkook won’t see how badly his hands are shaking. “i was here before you, and i certainly didn’t force you to look at me.” he gestures to the rest of the empty tables littering the patio. “it’s not like you didn’t have a choice of tables if you wanted to be reseated.”
jungkook runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, drawing taehyung’s attention to his wrists. they’re looking a little skinnier, his hands a little more unsure.
“that’s not what i meant, and you know it -“
“are you eating enough?” taehyung interrupts, looking at jungkook with concern. “you’re looking pale.”
jungkook’s laughter is bitter. “you’ve always been a charmer, you know that? always know exactly just what to say to get into someone’s heart. that’s not a compliment.”
taehyung takes another sip of coffee. it’s cold now, and the temperature hasn’t helped the taste a single bit. jungkook is itching to say more, he knows, can read it in the way jungkook’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, in the way his eyes skitter restlessly over taehyung’s face but never settle on his own.
“who was that?” jungkook demands. ah, taehyung thinks, setting his coffee cup back in its saucer. now they’re getting somewhere. “who was he?”
“i could ask you the same question,” he replies, trying to keep his voice bland. a blank canvas of curiosity is always the best to use when riling jungkook up, he’s noticed, because the other can’t help but respond. will always do his best to fill the silence. “if you really must know, though, we’re just friends.”
“that didn’t look like just friends,” jungkook hisses. there are the tears, now, glittering heavy and unshed and glossy in his eyes. “you don’t kiss your friends like that.”
“what’s it to you?” taehyung wants to know. he can’t resist prodding.
jungkook’s shredding the napkin yoongi’s left behind, untouched, on his crumb littered muffin plate. another nervous trait that taehyung’s painfully familiar with, one that led to him having to hide the extra supplies of tissue and toilet paper they kept in the storage cupboard under the bathroom sink during finals week.
“i can’t take it, tae,” jungkook whispers, finally, his voice breaking. there are the tears, now, and taehyung’s grateful the patio is empty and that the waitress seems to be blatantly disinterested in customer service. “i can’t fucking stop thinking about you. every fucking moment of every fucking day.”
much to his surprise, taehyung feels his throat tighten, feels a tickle in the back of his nose that signals his own tears are soon to come. he hasn’t cried over jungkook in a long time, if one could assume a week and a half a long time, and had thought he’d been doing pretty well, all things considered. evidently that’s not the case, he’s still hung up over jungkook, and yoongi, 24, doesn’t stand a chance.
taehyung thinks with a small pang of regret that they might have been cute together, that they could have had potential, but it’s nothing in comparison to jungkook, who’s trying not to shake apart in front of him.
“me, too,” he hears himself admitting distantly. “i can’t stop thinking about you, either.”
jungkook sniffles miserably, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, and taehyung absentmindedly hands over his own unused napkin. jungkook takes it without so much as a glance at him. the sounds he’s making are raw, pitiful, and taehyung can’t equalize the sunshine laughter and pretty smile jungkook has with this wreck in front of him.
“hey,” he whispers, and he’s crying now, too, he can taste the salt wet against his tongue as he reaches across the table to place his hand over jungkook’s, the one not blotting the sodden tissue to his face. “hey. let’s talk about this, yeah? we didn’t really get the chance to. no closure, it’s not healthy.”
“we weren’t healthy,” jungkook whispers back, his syllables broken and tripping over each other. “and you’re not a therapist.”
“no,” taehyung acknowledges, trying to focus on the fact that jungkook hasn’t pushed him away yet, hasn’t wriggled his hand out from under taehyung’s. “but someone once told me i didn’t listen to them, and i’ve been trying to get better.” he takes a deep breath, trying and failing to steady his voice, and rushes on before jungkook can refuse. “let me practice some more with you?”
this is a horrendously bad idea, he knows, but jungkook is nodding, barely there little movements of his head, and taehyung’s weak for him. always has been.
the silver bells over the patio door jingle.
jungkook is barely two steps into taehyung’s flat when taehyung pushes him back against the door, his mouth pressing sure and firm against jungkook’s, and, oh, this is what he’s been missing. this is what has been missing, the way taehyung tastes like coffee and salt because he’s been crying, the way taehyung’s large hands feel like they’re burning against his skin as they roam underneath his shirt.
“you did that forearm thing,” taehyung breathes into his mouth, and jungkook can’t gather his thoughts together for a witty retort. “you know i’m a sucker for the forearm thing.”
jungkook whimpers into taehyung’s kisses as taehyung’s fingers skirt around the edge of his left nipple. he hopes taehyung can’t feel how fast his pulse is rabbiting, fluttering on the edge of crazy, but taehyung has always been more attuned to his body than anyone else jungkook has ever known.
“you okay?” taehyung asks, pulling away just enough to lean their foreheads together. jungkook isn’t short by any means, but taehyung has always had this uncanny ability to make him feel small; when he’s caging him in like this, the door hard and unyielding against his back, it makes him feel safe and warm and protected. cared about. they’ve broken up months ago, but his traitorous body hasn’t seemed to pick up on that yet. “kookie, you good?”
“don’t call me that,” jungkook murmurs in response, watching detachedly as his hands come up to settle themselves on the spread of taehyung’s shoulders. he wants to lean forward, kiss bruises into the smooth column of taehyung’s throat. “you don’t deserve it.”
“no,” taehyung muses softly, much to jungkook’s surprise. “i suppose i don’t at this point in time.”
jungkook is about to say something else, something he’s sure he’ll regret, but taehyung silences him with another bruising kiss that he’s sure will leave his mouth swollen for days.
“we’ll talk about this later,” he mumbles breathlessly when taehyung allows him to pull away for breath. their fingers tangle together in the small space between them, pulling buttons out of their slots, fumbling clumsily with zippers. his pants puddle a dark shadow on the floor, and the late afternoon sunlight catches on the rim of taehyung’s aviators as they’re flung carelessly to the side with a clatter. “hey, tae, promise me.”
taehyung pauses, quirking an eyebrow at him, and jungkook feels a little thrill of pleasure run down his spine. it’s followed quickly by guilt, because they’re over, they’re done, and this is a mistake but he’s always been one to see things through.
“tae,” taehyung repeats, softly. “i’d nearly forgotten how good my name sounds coming from your mouth.”
“promise me,” jungkook asks, pleads, because taehyung isn’t listening like he always hasn’t, his hands already wrapping themselves around jungkook’s wrists and tugging him to the bedroom. he nearly trips over a pair of worn converse that send a shock of sudden affection through him and which taehyung kicks to the side of the hallway without a backwards glance.
“shit, how long have you had these?” jungkook asked, pulling out the ragged pair of navy high tops from the shoe organizer in the small hallway closet. “since the middle ages or what?”
taehyung looked up from his laptop, squinted at the pair of shoes jungkook was holding out towards him from the tips of his fingers. he shrugged noncommittally. “they’re comfortable. i’m a big advocate for comfortable shoes,” was his only defense, and jungkook had only sighed affectionately before replacing them in their beloved slot in the shoe organizer and hunting around for another empty cubby where he could put his own.
taehyung pushes him back on the bed, the mattress squeaking gently in protest but accepting jungkook’s weight, the sheets embracing him like an old friend. it doesn’t look like taehyung’s changed them in a while, jungkook can tell by the soft scattering of crumbs that tickle against his skin when taehyung pushes his shirt up and starts to litter hickeys over his skin. taehyung has always been a stress eater, a chronic in-bed one, too, and jungkook feels his traitorous heart soften at the knowledge that taehyung has been just as fucked up about this whole situation as he has.
“i promise. we’ll talk.” the words are breathed hot against his skin, barely a moment before taehyung’s mouth presses against the tattoo he’d gotten over his heart. it’s nothing fancy, just a small v, done on a spur of the moment after a stressful week of portfolio evaluation, but the look on taehyung’s face when he’d seen it had melted jungkook’s heart.
“it’s v for victory,” jungkook explained, breathless as taehyung’s eyes had scorched over the black marks against a backdrop of slightly irritated skin. “and v for the roman numeral five, and -“
“- and v for my byline in the student paper,” taehyung said, eyes wide with wonder, fingers reverent and gentle as they skimmed lightly over the ink. “does it hurt, still?”
“not really,” jungkook replied, trying not to smile too hard at the way taehyung worshiped him with his eyes. “not anymore.”
“fuck, i love you to pieces, you know that?”
“i know.”
jungkook’s eyes fall closed at the feeling of taehyung’s hands rubbing at his inner thighs, fingertips smoothing up under the hem of his boxer briefs higher and higher with every pass. he can already feel his cock straining against the fabric, aching; it twitches in anticipation as taehyung’s kisses get closer, his chest his abdomen the swell of his hip.
“you’re wet already,” taehyung breathes, and jungkook wants to snap his legs closed, wants to curl up in a ball and hide under taehyung’s crumby sheets in shame. “eager?”
“no,” he snarks back, but his protests don’t stop him from whimpering brokenly as taehyung laves an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his clothed cock, the soft fabric sticking wetly to his skin. taehyung has always been good at this, at making him come undone, he muses, and has to force himself to pay attention to what taehyung is saying rather than the way the vibrations of his words send small sparks of pleasure through him.
“ - bet he wouldn’t even know what to do with you,” taehyung is mumbling in between licks and kisses. he hasn’t pulled jungkook’s cock out of its cloth prison yet, and jungkook hazily wonders if he’ll come before he even has a chance to feel taehyung inside him. it’s starting to look more and more like a real possibility. “bet he wouldn’t know the way you like being fucked, he wouldn’t make you feel as good as i can, he doesn’t know you like i do.”
oh, jungkook realizes in a rush of breath, that edge to taehyung’s voice means he’s jealous. it’s been so long since he’s heard it that he’s almost forgotten the way taehyung’s possessiveness could make him squirm into the sheets, cock giving a heavy twitch between his legs that taehyung picks up on immediately.
“he didn’t look all that strong, either,” taehyung continues, his fingers finally, finally tucking themselves under the waistband of jungkook’s underwear and tugging them down his thighs while jungkook wriggles out of them. “he would never be able to handle you, wouldn’t be able to hold you down like i know you love to be.”
Jungkook’s only protest is a long, low whine that spills unbidden from his mouth as taehyung’s large hand envelopes his cock with a dry warmth that leaves him breathless. he’s already leaking enough to help the strokes go smoothly, and he can’t stop his hips from rolling up into taehyung’s grip weakly as taehyung’s wrist flicks expertly at the crest of the stroke, his thumb dipping lightly into the slit.
“tae,” he begins, the syllable breathless. his fingers curl and uncurl in the sheets, the fabric bunching and relaxing in time with his heartbeats. the pleasure throbs and grows dully in the pit of his belly, looping and coiling tightly around his hips. taehyung’s strokes are steady, the slick sound of his skin on jungkook’s soft and wet. “taehyung, i -“
he’s about to say something to the effect of what a bad idea this is, how they should stop before it gets too far, and then taehyung’s head is dipping down to tuck the head of jungkook’s weeping cock between his lips. the words freeze in jungkook’s mouth, and his hands untangle themselves from the sheets to thread their way through taehyung’s silky hair instead. his breath punches out of him in a strangled moan, and his hips strain up into the blinding heat.
“doesn’t it taste bad?” jungkook wanted to know, wrinkling his nose at taehyung, who’d just wriggled out from between jungkook’s quivering thighs and was licking at his lips thoughtfully. they gleamed in the dull gray light of a winter afternoon, the clouds outside looking ominously heavy. jungkook wondered when the snow would be coming, wondered if they had enough groceries in the fridge to last through a snowstorm.
“not really,” taehyung replied, contemplatively. “could taste better if you ate more fruit, though.”
“what does it taste like?” jungkook asked, curious now. not curious enough to accept taehyung’s kiss, though, which landed on the corner of his mouth messy and wet. “that wasn’t an invitation, tae.”
“you asked,” taehyung pointed out, not unkindly. “i dunno how to describe it, really. it just tastes like you.”
he’s close, he realizes with a sudden start, has been forcing himself down taehyung’s throat with rolling thrusts that have taehyung swallowing involuntarily around him, a perfect squeeze. his fingers tug at taehyung’s hair futilely.
“wait,” he whimpers breathlessly, his voice choked, and taehyung listens. he pulls off with a slick pop that sends a heated curl of arousal shooting through jungkook, and he grits his teeth, forces his hips down into the sheets, counts slowly backwards from fifteen because he feels far too close to the edge already and he hasn’t even had taehyung in him. “i want you inside me.”
taehyung takes a shaky breath. “fuck. the mouth on you. you sure?” he asks, but jungkook can already see him looking longingly towards the nightstand where he keeps his lube.
“of course i’m sure,” jungkook hisses, kicking at taehyung’s hip impatiently. “hurry the fuck up, before i change my mind.” he can see the way taehyung’s dark eyes flash at him in a challenge jungkook doesn’t feel up to rising towards. the sheets rustle and the mattress dips under the shifting weight as taehyung looms over him to rummage around in the nightstand drawer, the smooth golden skin of his chest all but begging jungkook to leave marks of his own. he does, in licks and sucks and bites that have rosy circles blooming in patterns that ensure taehyung won’t be able to wear those ridiculously sexy v-necks he’s so fond of.
“you possessive bitch,” taehyung mutters, but his tone is amused, pleased even. the cap on the lube pops open with a smart click, quickly followed by the wet sounds of taehyung spilling a generous amount onto his hands. some of it drips carelessly onto jungkook’s cock, and he twitches into the cool sensation. taehyung is still in his jeans, jungkook realizes rather belatedly, and his hands reach out to remedy the situation before taehyung is batting them away.
“no, you don’t deserve it quite yet.”
this is what jungkook has been missing, the itch under his skin starting to sink back into a fading memory, the way taehyung can unravel him so easily. this is what he’s been missing, the way taehyung’s fingers press wetly into him, curling and stroking and applying just the right amount of pressure to the spot inside him that makes him feel pleasure all the way in his throat. jungkook’s hands scratch lightly across the outside of his thighs, splayed around the spread of taehyung’s narrow hips to give him access; they flutter restlessly in broad strokes over his torso, unsure of where to settle themselves. they dart to his cock at one point, indulging himself in a few tight slick squeezes, before taehyung is tutting and pushing them aside.
“still haven’t learned?” taehyung asks, his eyes intent on every twitch and whimper jungkook gives him. “i thought i told you not to touch what was mine.”
“okay,” jungkook swallows heavily, whining as he allows taehyung to stretch him and tease him open. the pleasure bubbling under his skin and pooling in the pit of his belly is growing too big to ignore, a knot that threatens to consume him with every press of taehyung’s fingers against his prostate, with every small stroke taehyung sees fit to give his cock. the sheets will be ruined by the time they’re done, jungkook thinks, but maybe it’ll force taehyung into washing them.
“you bring your sheets to the laundromat?” jungkook asked in disbelief, watching taehyung strip the bed and stuff the linens into a trash bag. “when your building has a laundry room in the basement?”
“the basement’s creepy,” was taehyung’s defense. “and the machines are coin operated. i don’t know about you, but i have a fundamental distrust for coin operated things.”
“i see you buy milkis from vending machines all the time,” jungkook protested as taehyung started stuffing pillowcases into the bag. “that’s exactly the same. and there’s nothing creepy about the basement, you’ve just been watching too many horror movies.”
“milkis is a different matter,” taehyung replied flippantly, tying the top of the trash bag closed with an expert twist. “and if it’s not creepy, why do you make me go with you every time you have to do your laundry here?”
jungkook opened his mouth, closed it again when he couldn’t think of a good answer. “i like spending time with you,” he said, lamely; it sounded more like a question than a statement. “even if it’s just doing laundry.”
taehyung couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder.
finally, finally taehyung is pulling his fingers out of him, ignoring the way jungkook whines at the loss. jungkook props himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes trace a heavy line down his body, from his rosy swollen nipples to the hickeys taehyung has lavished on his skin to his cock, heavy and pink and slick where it rests against his thigh. his gaze comes to rest on taehyung’s fingers, deftly unbuttoning his jeans and wriggling out of them, every inch of smoothly tanned skin that’s revealed driving jungkook mad with longing. his mouth waters at the sight of the line of taehyung’s hard cock in his boxers, aches to feel the weight of it spreading his mouth apart and leaking onto his tongue.
“want me in your mouth, love?” taehyung asks, tucking his hand teasingly into the waistband of his boxers to palm at his cock. jungkook can hardly think, can hardly protest the way they’ve slipped back into pet names like they’d never stopped. “or inside you, instead?”
“mouth - wait, no, inside me, please, tae, inside me,” he breathes, aching. he spreads his legs farther, shamelessly tilting his hips towards taehyung in invitation, and is rewarded with a ragged gasp.
“alright, darling, alright,” taehyung murmurs, laughing lightly. jungkook lets himself fall back into the pillows, hears the rustling of silk as taehyung strips himself out of his boxers, the slick sounds of taehyung rolling a condom over himself, his own broken whine as the head of taehyung’s cock comes to rest at his entrance. he holds his breath in anticipation, and the feeling of taehyung slowly pressing himself inside him has the air in his lungs slowly trickling out in a drawn-out sob.
“oh, tae,” he breathes, feeling tae bottom out inside him. he’s full, burning. tae leans over him, his eyes bright, and jungkook can tell he’s just on edge as he is. he can feel the swift, minute twitches of taehyung’s cock inside him, and he rolls his hips experimentally to see the way taehyung worries at his lower lip in pleasure. “taehyung, i want.”
“yeah, i know,” taehyung whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to jungkook’s cheek. it’s not what he wants, not close enough to where he wants taehyung’s mouth, and before taehyung can pull away, jungkook is reaching up to thread his fingers through taehyung’s hair and tug him down for a proper kiss. he licks his way into taehyung’s mouth, bites promises into his lips until they’re well and truly swollen.
it takes a while to find their rhythm again, their bodies rusty but falling into their old patterns again quickly enough. taehyung’s thrusts drag the head of his cock relentlessly over jungkook’s prostate, and jungkook can only try to stifle his heavy moans by kissing and biting at the smooth column of taehyung’s neck. he wraps his legs around taehyung’s hips, trying to get him deeper, and laughs deliriously when taehyung curses under his breath. the new position has his cock rubbing against the firm lines of taehyung’s abdomen, and he wants it to go on forever.
“are you close?” taehyung asks, his deep voice only serving to push jungkook closer to the edge. “you’re doing that thing.”
“what thing?” he gasps back, hoping that his focus on taehyung’s words will push his orgasm back just a little further. “i’m not doing anything.”
“you’ve been trying to hug me closer for the past few minutes, kook,” taehyung mumbles, sitting back and swiveling his hips in delicious circles that have jungkook gasping. “you always get so clingy when you’re about to come.” jungkook pouts, the impending orgasm bubbling down into a simmer.
“i want to come,” he whines, petulantly. “you’ve always been such a fucking tease.”
taehyung shrugs. “so sue me, i just didn’t want this to be over quite yet. i really have missed you, you know that, jungkook?”
his full name, now. jungkook feels stripped to the core as taehyung’s searching gaze burrows into his own.
“i, me, too,” he mumbles, trying to press his hips back into taehyung’s. “i just. i’ve wanted this, i’ve wanted you.”
“hmm,” taehyung murmurs, thoughtfully. it seems to be the right answer, because his hands are coming up to cradle jungkook’s hips again, more tenderly this time, and his thrusts seem gentler, slower, more drawn out. “we’ll talk more about this later.”
“later,” jungkook promises, but his promise is lost in between one breath and the next, pressing smooth and deep against his prostate. he clings to taehyung, leaving scratches that he’s sure will scar over later, and tries not to sob too loud as the pleasure strings him tighter and tighter.
his orgasm hits him with a force that takes his breath away, taehyung swallowing his sobs with kisses and working him through it with tender thrusts that leave jungkook’s face wet with tears. he’s still hazy as he comes down, but his cock gives a tired jerk of interest, a pleasantly painful twitch, as he hears taehyung’s deep groan, feels taehyung’s cock kick inside him, and he wants to whine for something to fill him up with again as taehyung takes one deep breath, two, before slipping out lightly.
so full, and then so empty. jungkook flings one arm over his eyes and listens to the sounds of taehyung cleaning up, the rustling of clothes and then water running in the bathroom. he feels too weak to move, too tired, and is grateful when taehyung drapes a warm wet washcloth over him, scrubbing the come and sweat and lube off his skin with gentle circles.
he’s even more grateful when the mattress dips next to him and he feels taehyung’s warm weight spreading over him, legs tangling together, one broad hand resting on jungkook’s chest over the small tattooed v.
“so. hi,” taehyung whispers, his voice husky still. jungkook lets the arm that’s been covering his eyes fall back into the sheets as he rolls onto his side to look at taehyung.
“hi,” he whispers back, meek now. shy, almost. “we shouldn’t have done that.”
taehyung stiffens imperceptibly, but relaxes quickly as jungkook shuffles forward to nuzzle into the curve of his neck, licking apologetically at the bruises he’d left.
“no, guess not,” he murmurs, and his voice buzzes against jungkook’s lips. “i try not to dwell on the past.”
they spend the next few moments like this, moments that stretch into hours, until the afternoon light has already faded and jungkook is beginning to wonder if he should start getting home. but something is still bothering him, something is still worrying away at the back of his mind.
“you told me, earlier, that you were trying to get better at listening?” jungkook asks, wondering if the steady rise and fall of taehyung’s chest means that he’s sleeping.
“mm, yeah,” taehyung replies, his voice thick and heavy, and jungkook’s heart falls. sleeping, then, not consumed with worry and guilt and that fickle flicker of hope that they might still be good together. “listening to you, in particular.”
“what makes you think you’d be any better at it now than you were then?”
taehyung still hasn’t opened his eyes. jungkook feels weak, silly, on the verge of tears again. wants to punch taehyung and leave him hurting just as much as he’s been hurt.
a hand comes up to stroke at his hair, threading through the strands and tugging lightly. “sh, sh,” taehyung whispers. “don’t cry.”
“i’m not crying,” jungkook protests, but his eyes are glossy again, his voice thick.
“no, not yet maybe, but you’re about to.”
“how would you know? you haven’t even looked at me.”
taehyung sighs, cracks open a sleepy eye to look down at him, and jungkook feels his heart skip a beat. “i don’t need to look at you to know you,” he replies finally, but his tone isn’t unkind. “i already know so much about you, like the way you save the chocolate chips in your ice cream for last, or the way you only half-watch scary movies because you’re afraid but don’t want anyone else to know, or that you like sleeping on your stomach during thunderstorms.”
“but the big things,” jungkook begins. “you forgot the big things, like my parents. you knew it was a big deal for me.”
taehyung sighs, and this time he opens both eyes and looks down at jungkook with an expression jungkook can’t put a name to.
“yeah,” taehyung agrees, and, oh, there’s a heaviness to taehyung’s voice that has jungkook’s throat tightening again. “i can’t say anything else except that you have no idea how sorry i’ve been, and can't believe that i fucked up like that. i want to say that it's because i was crazy busy, and it just slipped my mind, but all i think i should say is that you deserve someone much better than me, because someone better than me wouldn't have let that be an issue.”
jungkook opens his mouth to protest, closes it again. taehyung looks like he wants to say more, and he waits it out.
“but i’ve been thinking, lately,” taehyung continues. “i don’t know how to define myself without you, anymore. you’ve been such a big part of me, of how i see myself, that it’s hard to compartmentalize it. i’ve missed you like crazy, and i’ve missed the person i was when i was with you.”
jungkook stops trying to blink back his tears, lets them trickle down his face and wet the skin on taehyung’s throat.
“what else?” he croaks, and then, when taehyung makes an inquiring noise, “what else do you know about me?”
“what don’t i know? you never wear matched socks, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in russia, you want to do lifestyle photography because you think it’s an area of the field that always goes overlooked. one of your proudest achievements is that you’ve set records on fourteen separate machines at funny land, and if you had a week off you’d want to spend the entire time reading.”
“keep going.” jungkook doesn’t understand what he’s looking for, doesn’t understand what’s to be gained by punishing himself like this. he figures he’s just trying to put off his inevitable departure, the inevitable fracturing that’ll have to happen all over again.
“you always said your 6 year old self would be proud of what you’re doing now, though that changed in recent months at the end of us.” the way taehyung says that is flat, shaky, and jungkook can tell he’s crying, too. “you once stayed up for two and a half days straight when i was sick with pneumonia. you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and i know that in a bit you’ll be walking out of my life again, maybe forever this time, and the thought kills me.”
“i don’t want to,” jungkook whispers, his voice teary and choked, and his admission makes taehyung pull slightly away from him, eyes searching. jungkook knows he probably looks a right mess. he’s never been a pretty crier, and he’s sure this time is no exception. “i don’t want to leave. i’ve been so lost without you.”
“stay, then,” taehyung offers, and jungkook wants to refuse, wants to dredge up all the reasons why they had broken it off before and why they shouldn’t start it up again. “stay, and let’s help each other find ourselves again.”
jungkook lets himself be rocked into taehyung’s warm embrace, lulled to sleep by taehyung’s gentle words recalling all the things jungkook has forgotten to love about himself. he has been listening, jungkook realizes dimly before the dark warmth of sleep claims him. all this time, he has been, and he’s never stopped.
when he wakes up, it’s fully dark outside, and taehyung is nowhere to be found. his heart seizes in his chest, wondering if he’s been hurt again, wondering if somewhere in between taehyung has decided against whatever tentative, tenuous thing this is. he feels bitter anger crawl into his throat, no stranger these days, and throws a dark glare at the digital clock on taehyung’s nightstand. 1:07 am. of course it is. his destiny wouldn’t be so kind as to let him wake up at a time when the buses were still running.
he fumbles for his clothes, still discarded messily on the floor, doesn’t even check to see if they’re right side out before struggling into them. he’s already darted into the living room to search frantically for his jeans before taehyung pipes up from the couch.
“where’s the fire?”
“what?” he pauses, in disbelief. taehyung is looking at him from over the couch, a slice of pizza in one hand and a book in the other. the soft glow of the reading lamp threads golden strands through his hair. “i thought, but you weren’t -“
“did you think i’d left?” taehyung asks, setting the book and pizza down on the coffee table before standing up. jungkook spies the rest of the pizza in a cardboard box on the table, and his stomach gives a little growl of anticipation. “sorry about that, kookie.”
this time, jungkook doesn’t bother correcting him, only lets taehyung steer him to the couch and press a piece of pizza into his hands. it’s still hot, delicious and cheesy, and it’s this that he’s been missing, too. this comfortable silence with taehyung, their legs tangled together on the couch, hands taking turns dipping into the box until the pizza is gone and jungkook is wiping the extra grease from his fingers onto taehyung’s bare thigh. taehyung doesn’t stop him.
“proper shower, then?” is all taehyung asks him.
“proper shower,” jungkook agrees, trailing him to the small bathroom and letting his clothes fall to the floor again. it’s easy to fall back into these old routines, and he feels the warm comfort of familiarity settling into his bones again. “you’re still pretty shit at first dates, you know that?”
“oh, was that what this was?” taehyung inquires, stepping under the spray and beckoning jungkook in when it’s warm enough for his tastes.
“yeah,” jungkook replies, but he can’t stop the helplessly happy smile from bursting over his face as taehyung lathers shampoo into his hair. “but i’m still excited for our next one.”
“hm,” taehyung hums affirmatively. “me, too.”