Archive of Our Own

Jungkook drives around the neighbourhood in circles, a physical extension of his thoughts. 

Panic wells up in his chest, tightening in a band across his lungs, but he pushes it down. Ignores it. Accepts it. The thoughts in his mind are so huge, so grossly bloated, that he can’t focus on a single one of them.

He feels hollow, almost unreal except the pull of Taehyung, feels him even though he’s across the State. Jungkook wants to call him, to hear his voice, see his face, to. To. 

The trip back from New York had been a blur, a five-hour redeye flight after staying up all night practicing. To top it off, there had been a baby in his row.

Jungkook pulls over to the side of the road and leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He takes several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. But his mind won't let him rest.

His hands are shaking by the time he finds his phone and scrolls down to Taehyung’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

“Tae, uh,” he fumbles out, his throat clenching up tight. He drags a hand through his tangled hair and tries to ignore the burning behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes. “Just got home. Sorry for calling at this hour. Uh. Just, um. Mom said you’re not coming home for Christmas. I know holidays can be a little stressful for you but it’s the holidays, and. I’m here and. So, um. Just call me. Okay? I can ask her to push lunch so you’ll be here for pie. I can–”

He stops, his stomach twisting up painfully. It hits him then, pummels him like a fist. The truth. Taehyung isn’t coming, he doesn’t care that Jungkook’s here, that they haven’t seen each other for six months. He closes his eyes to the tears that immediately build. Presses his fingers into them and takes a deep breath that he lets out in a rush. 

Then he drives. Reverses the car Taehyung left behind and drives off. Leaves without looking back.

Jungkook can count the number of times he’s been inside a car in the past five months and round it off to a whopping zero. New York is subway trains and walking blocks upon blocks, maybe a bicycle with Namjoon hyung’s bike pass if he isn’t using it.

He stops at a gas station when he gets lightheaded from the lack of water and an abundance of nerves. He doesn’t call his parents, but he calls Taehyung’s folks, trusting that they’ll let his parents know. 

He tops off his gas for good measure. ( In case he gets turned away, in case he has to spend the night in a Walmart Parking Lot on Christmas eve with the heat turned up.) 

People mill around him, going in and out of the gas station on the way to work and normal lives. Someone inside the store is looking around for beef jerky. 

“How far is Palo Alto,” he asks as the store clerk punches numbers in. 

He's lightly breathless on account of the collapsed feeling in his chest but underneath that, it thrills Jungkook to be even this close; it used to be thousands of miles separating them. 

“About 3 hours. Headed home?” the guy asks.

Jungkook nods his head, “Stanford. Visiting my uh, frie-,” takes a huge breath, “boyfriend.”

“Cool,” the man replies, already over with the conversation while Jungkook’s insides swim with the lie of it. He wants to confess. He wants the man to pry.

So, how did you meet?

1st grade, in between the second and third toilet cubicle. I asked him to pick out a paper towel because I thought the mole on his nose was a booger. Instead, he started wiping my hands and the chocolate on them that I was going to lick off. I’ve never told him, I think it would break his heart. It’s his favourite anecdote. 

Known each other your whole life huh, that’s cute. 

Most days, I’m a ghost, I drift, I walk into walls, but around him. Around him, I’m loved. I’m so loved. I’m never going to leave. I’m never going to walk away. He’ll have to pry himself out of my cold, dead hands. Sorry for the lack of punchline. He makes me want to throw up my heart. This is probably scaring you, so the simple answer is: yes, cute. Sure. 

How did you know it was going to be him?

God, how could it be anyone else?

He picks a watermelon lollipop off the rack with some cold Evian. The candy sticks tacky to the inside of his cheek and he pays with cash, afraid to leave behind a credit card footprint as if that makes this more real than his hands curling around Taehyung’s steering wheel.

The car.

He pays for the fuel and walks out of the warm store, the wind tickles his ear.roars out of the gas station. He spent days in the shotgun seat of this very car peering into the side-view mirrors, looking for answers, looking for himself, stung when he came up empty. His hands start to shake where they’re clutching the wheel.

He breathes in great ragged bursts, vision sparkling. He realises he's pretty badly frightened. 

But none of this is particularly interesting, he’s just another guy driving 6 hours on Christmas Eve to get to where his heart is. He isn’t the first. 

So, here’s another story. From back when after a sleepover he’d still wake up draped across Taehyung like Taehyung was his bed and his pillow. The infallible anchor. 

This one’s quite the joke.

Jungkook at 16 was all about constantly checking his reflection, over-brushing his teeth, daydreaming a kiss, teething the back of his hand with a mouth that felt foreign with the Invisalign taken out, to see how hard he’d have to bite for it to bloom purple. 

So as per usual, he's tonguing over his shining set of correctly aligned teeth and doesn't even bat an eyelash when Taehyung opens his door and without announcing himself, chucks a small box at hIs head.

Jungkook isn’t quick enough to dodge all the things Taehyung throws at him, yet. So the sharp edge of it pokes his temple painfully. But he is sixteen so he rolls his eyes. Squinting them in a way that makes him feel like Regina George.

Taehyung’s still in his school clothes, wearing a tiny ponytail. There’s only just enough to pull through but after three struggles he can get it all scooped up. Simple, stringy mess held back by some girl’s scrunchie ( like he’s asking to get face fucked).

Taehyung might be the most popular guy in school but Jungkook always feels deep down they’re just two strange boys who never want to speak to anyone else. When their eyes meet in the hallways, Jungkook can recognise the same urge there, the need to hide together and disappear. 

“The hell is that?” he asks, reading the half-hidden name on the pillbox where it's slipped partway under the bed.

“Can read, can’t you?” Taehyung says, shaking his hair out as he walks over to plop down across Jungkook's legs, like a lazing cat, all stretched out and drowsy.

Jungkook flexes his toe to relish the weight of Taehyung before kicking at him, making Taehyung yelp and laugh. That laugh. That dorky, flashlight laugh. 

Jungkook bends to retrieve the box so he can hide his face. 

Super Stamina, the little sleeve boasts. Long lasting.

“Boner pills?” Jungkook whispers, hollow, staring at the yellow capsules bragging big promises. “You’re eighteen, not eighty.”

Taehyung laughs, showy, obnoxiously, and sits up, hair swinging across his hair that he blows out of his eyes, only for it to swing back to fall artfully over the cut of a cheek. Taehyung thinks his ears stick out awkwardly, but Jungkook wants to nurse on the curve of it. He wants to tuck Taehyung’s hair behind that ear like he’s seen Taehyung do with every boy or girl he’s been out with.

“It isn’t an engine replacement, Kookie,” Taehyung yells, soaping up his pits. "It’s just top-up on an already sweet ride.” Jungkook’s probably making a gaggy face. He can’t be sure, everything grows farther away the more he shrinks in on himself.

“If you need pills, the ride probably isn’t that sweet," he answers the way he usually does, expecting the easy grace of nothingness and disregard to wash away any fears or anxieties. Instead, when he looks at Taehyung's smugsatisfied face, he remembers everything; the lunchtime absences, the watermelon jolly rancher- breath, the texting under the table though Jungkook’s inbox remained woefully empty.

"Mason Traeger likes it fine," Taehyung tells him.

Jungkook’s still thinking of ways he can save himself from this, "Who?”

"Mason Traeger, his mouth is like a cocksleeve."

“How’d you know?”

"Cause I’m sleeping with him, you idiot.” Taehyung’s still in gloat mode, still in the mood for a little riling. So he tells Kookie that Traeger’s folks are going to his grandparents’ house and he’ll be alone in the house. “And from what I know so far, he can really take it.” Lip smack. "He's sloppy too. Shit. Can deepthroat like most of it. Ze-ro gag reflex.”

The impact is dazzling. Jungkook’s whole body seizes up with incomprehensible pain. He feels his mouth twisting into an ugly shape. Without thought, he leans over, retrieves a large trig handbook and throws it at his best friend.

Taehyung dodges. Taehyung’s good at that. "What the fuck?"

"He’s a slut." Jungkook shouts. "He’s a fucking slut, Tae. The whole football team has ran him through" His mother would have wept to hear him use the word. Jungkook wants to weep. He firms his jaw for Taehyung to come at him and tackle him to the ground. Wrestle him onto his back, scream "Take it back! Take it back." so Jungkook can seethe, sneer, push him back by the choker of his collarbones, "Get off me! Get off!"

Bruise him. Leave something behind. 

But Taehyung is rarely that kind. 

Instead, he looks at Jungkook with furrowed brows as if Jungkook has really, truly, finally gone and disappointed him and Jungkook lets the scooped-out feeling in his belly grow, grow to envelop him, the two of them, the seams of these walls that have crumpled history assignments and secondhand boots and cans of Mountain Dew thrown at them on evenings when Taehyung started being otherwise occupied whereas Jungkook was barely making it through puberty and was tender where it counted most.

"Fucking fag,” Jungkook spat out, his vision swimming and hot. The hollowness grows to a cave as Taehyung gets off his bed, and Jungkook is the wounded animal trapped inside licking its paws in the shadows.

"Sure am," Taehyung grins, his eyes are dead, “Takes one to know one.” Jungkook’s never explicitly come out to him but of course, like everything else, Taehyung knows. 

He watches Taehyung tug a cleanish shirt from his closet. “Some advice? Sluts know their way around better.”

The pills sit on the sheets between them. Jungkook doesn’t look at them again. Taehyung takes them with him when he goes.

The punchline is this; Jungkook has loved Taehyung every second since he was 10. 

But that quite ruins the joke, doesn’t it?

Here’s another punchline, Jungkook hooked up with Mason Traeger a month later.

Came with a referral after all.

At least there’s that silver lining, right?

Jungkook turns his mind back on road and crunches down on the watermelon candy and imagines a small explosion. Boom!

Quick release of wet breath.

Three more hours and then he can get this over with. 

Palo Alto is a mix of historic homes, modern high-rises, and everything in between. Spanish colonial to contemporary. Every other store selling Stanford paraphernalia. A froyo shop on every corner. 

It’s after noon when he reaches the parking lot of Taehyung’s dorms and turns off the engine. His back is killing him but he just can't make himself get out of the car. Even though he's come so far, he doesn't know Taehyung's room or building or anything. 

It's just like it used to be all his life, Jungkook was just close enough to fool himself into thinking Taehyung was something he could just reach out and have. It's strange now that he knows how far he can actually go with his wishful thinking and suddenly he feels like an idiot for having shown up out of nowhere. 

Maybe Taehyung is busy with exams. Maybe he's not even here. He's probably not on this campus, in this city, maybe he has a boyfriend he'd rather spend Christmas with. They've barely talked at all since that horrible phone call all those months ago.

He looks around the empty parking lot and scrubs a hand over his face. Deep breaths. One sheep, two sheep, three...

God knows how long he sits there. Then suddenly in the corner of his eye. 

Miracle of miracles.

Taehyung. 

He looks as if he has just come from the library: green turtleneck under a tan trench coat, books stacked over one arm and cup of coffee in the other. A shoulder bag bumping into his hip with every step.

The ache in Jungkook’s chest loosens and then clenches up a hundred times tighter. Jungkook barely, barely resists the absurd urge to run.

He watches Taehyung turn to adjust his messenger bag and pause.

For a moment they are stuck there. Eyes locked together. 

Nothing but a handful of meters between them, after, god, months. 

Jungkook opens the door on instinct as Taehyung takes one unsure step towards him. Then another, then it’s almost like he’s running. And then he’s right there and Jungkook wants to fling his arms around Taehyung and squeeze him but instead, he doesn’t even know what to say. Jungkook had imagined he’d cry again when he saw Taehyung’s face, but Jungkook doesn’t.

“Surprise,” Jungkook’s voice trails off, and it suddenly becomes very real to him that this is Taehyung, all of him and Jungkook’s stomach does such a funny twist. "unless you didn’t-"

“Come here,” Taehyung pulls him forward and into a hug. “God.” His voice. Jungkook had missed it. Low and intimate. No memory can do it justice, the way it sounds like Taehyung’s kissing his neck.

Jungkook snuffles further into where heat blooms in a steady pulse against the dreadful winter. Taehyung smooths a hand down the back of Jungkook’s head and cradles it, “Cookie monster finally got your hair.”

“It’s only half blue,” Jungkook laughs and tightens the hold on the small of Taehyung’s back.

Taehyung’s books are painfully digging into his stomach but nothing can make Jungkook move. Taehyung claps him on the shoulder, a bit more strongly than necessary, trying to break away to take a better look at his face but Jungkook can’t let go at all. They stumble around, bumping into the side of the car. Jungkook’s arms tighten around Taehyung’s neck, his hip notches up like a child begging to be carried. “Gimme a minute-”

Taehyung sighs, he scratches so softly at the short hairs of Jungkook’s nape, “of course.”

"Did you have any trouble?" Taehyung asks, as he IDs them into his dorm block. Inside there’s a lobby that’s mostly empty and a welcome break from the cold.

"No, I was good until the end."

"What end?"

"I sat in the parking lot for an hour."

Taehyung laughs. Jungkook's frown deepens, it’s fake. "You never told me your dorm number."

"They wouldn’t let you in without me anyway."

There's one other guy in the elevator, and the three of them ride up to the second floor in silence. After he gets off on the second floor, and they're completely alone, Taehyung reaches out, hesitates, tucks a lock of Jungkook’s blue hair behind his ear. “Did you get this done in New York?”

Jungkook nods. A shiver running through him from the tip of his ear to the end of his spine. 

"It’s very pretty," he whispers and smiles. A warm little curve on the right side of his lips. He steps up beside Jungkook and kisses him– just once, very chastely – on the shoulder and for all the growing up Jungkook’s done he might as well be fourteen still. Put him in the same room as Taehyung and he can't think about anything else. He loses his breath.

He's still dazed as Taehyung leads them to his dorm room at the end of the fourth floor hallway. Another student greets Taehyung as they slip into his room and Taehyung greets back. Jungkook wonders who the guy must think Jungkook is. 

Taehyung kicks the overflowing laundry bag away and pushes his blinds up to let some light into the room. Then he turns and they're facing each other, in the middle of the room.

“I have to meet my advisor,” Taehyung begins apologetically, “I’m already late.” Then at the look on Jungkook’s face, he reaches out and puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, tentatively. “Rest up, I’ll be back soon.”

He removes his hand and Jungkook sighs, his shoulders hunching forward.

Jungkook spends five long minutes bouncing his knees staring at the triangular flag of Stanford hung behind the door before he gets up to investigate the room. He doesn’t find anything hidden. Even the condoms, lube and a ring vibrator are predictably in one sole bedside table drawers. He slipped the azure vibrator on his left ring finger, #Isaidyes. The floor of his closet was just shoe boxes lined up and a couple of neckties that had slipped from their hanging spot. They smell of him and Jungkook puts one in his mouth, hangs it back wet with his spit. There’s a couple fingers of white wine left in the mini fridge alongside what looks like carrot cake from the dining hall. One side of his desk table is just binders full of handwritten case notes, the shelf above is his vitamins, reading glasses and a bowl of thin finger rings. A photo of his friends at uni, all cheesing at the camera on what looks like homecoming. A photo of his parents from his high school graduation. Two photos with Jungkook; one of both of them throwing up gang signs from the pirate ride in Disneyland circa 7th grade and another one from last year. Jungkook, his face full of tears after his last senior year musical as Taehyung tried to put him in a headlock. 

Taehyung had gotten him flowers that day. “It’s a tradition, right,” Taehyung had said, seeming so shy for no reason. He had driven all the way from Stanford, right after afternoon classes to make it on time. “I’ve seen it in movies.” Jungkook had felt like a prima ballerina all night. 

It occurs to him that Taehyung might be lying about the advisor and could very well be on the way to dick down some college boy down that isn’t Jungkook. He picks the last photo up and presses the pad of his thumb on Taehyung’s blindingly beautiful face as if squashing a bug, leaving his fingerprint there to be found later. 

He sniffs the carrot cake, eats it in four bites, polishes off two bottles of water and passes out on top of Taehyung’s messy duvet. 

Jungkook is startled awake at the jingle of keys in the knob. He barely has time to get up and swipe at his mouth. The room fills with the smell of something deliciously greasy and Taehyung grins at him as he sets an In’N’Out carrier down in front of him.

“Double cheeseburger with pickles, grilled onions and tomatoes. Extra cheese. And animal fries.”

Taehyung removes his scarf and coat and tosses them over the back of his desk chair. In the process of taking his coat off his shirt had ridden up. His pants sat low enough so Jungkook could see the waistband of his Uniqlo underwear and the dimples at the small of his back. As if he’d felt Jungkook watching, Taehyung tugged his shirt down. Jungkook licked his lips and began to pipe up but Taehyung shushed him, “Animal sauce on the side, yeah I know.”

Jungkook took Taehyung’s hand and bit the side of it. It didn’t smell like sex, just books and laundry and grease from the cheeseburger. 

Taehyung let out a grunt of disapproval, but didn’t push him away, “Not over this habit yet.”

Jungkook hummed, anything could make him happy when it came to Taehyung. “No.”

“Who do you bite in college?"

Jungkook winked up at him, purposely shady. The ends of Taehyung’s lips thinned. He pushed at Jungkook’s lips, tracing his top teeth with rough fingertips, “Are you a teething child, Kook-ah?”

They ate the cheeseburgers side by side on Taehyung’s duvet, leaning against the wall. Their shoulders pressed up together and feet dangling off the other end. He had gotten rid of his jeans and was in one of Taehyung’s shorts. Taehyung too had changed. The hair on their legs rasped together. 

Taehyung had set up a projector and they were watching a bootleg copy of the latest avatar. The picture quality was shitty and Jungkook had already seen the movie but it wasn’t like Jungkook was paying attention.

After they binned the trash, Jungkook stood in the middle of Taehyung’s shitty dorm room. “So now what?”

“I have some wine in the fridge. We can share it.”

“Hmm. No thanks.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t like white wine.”

Taehyung regards him with a tentative sort of smile. “You’ve had a look around my room.”

Jungkook shakes his head, swaying in place, “I was looking for water.”

Taehyung laughs. Jungkook does not swoon. Even though it sounds so fucking good.

Jungkook allows gravity fold him and drops his arms, letting his hands skim the floor.

“You alright?”

“Mhm. Just stretching. Long day.”

Taehyung moves to the edge of their bed. His toes are so close to Jungkook's fingertips, he wants to press his head against them like a housecat, then place them on his shoulders.

He straightens up. Taehyung watches him do it. “Do you want a cigarette?”

Jungkook looks up at the smoke detector.

“Doesn’t work,” Taehyung answers the unasked question. 

“Huh, how come?”

Taehyung winked. He got up and gave Jungkook a cigarette and leaned over to light it for him. Jungkook brought his hand up to touch Taehyung’s seconds too late.

“Thanks.”

Taehyung has to move a few old bottles of Bodyarmor to open the window up. Cold wind gushes into the room and Jungkook’s skin blooms in goosebumps. 

Jungkook passes Taehyung the cigarette, dutifully blows the smoke out the window.

“How come your advisor’s still available on Christmas eve?”

“It wasn’t,” Taehyung takes a drag, holds it, exhales. Jungkook can’t stop staring at his lips, “Wasn’t office hours, we met at a cafe.”

“Are you having a…”

Taehyung looks at him like he’s grown another head, “No dude, gross.”

Jungkook takes the cigarette back, inhales twice. If he was Taehyung’s advisor, he would. 

“I wanted to let her know my mock Bar results, to see what firms I'm potentially looking at.”

“Woah, cool.”

Taehyung took back the cigarette from him and nodded, “thanks.”

“Do you know where you want to work?”

“In this market? Anywhere.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, casual as can be, “I meant like, location-wise.”

Taehyung hitched a shoulder, “I just need to get hired.”

Jungkook doesn’t let his face give anything away. He holds the smoke in his lungs till it burns.

“So this was your holiday plan?” he asks Taehyung while passing him the cigarette. The yellow sunset is painting Taehyung’s lashes golden. “Smoke in your room and what, jerk off?”

Taehyung tapped some ash out into a can of redbull and shrugged, yeah pretty much.

“Surprise,” Jungkook does half hearted jazz hands, “I’m your Christmas present.”

Taehyung gave him a sweep over and opened his mouth. It took a moment before he came up with something to say. “I actually do have a present for you. It’s not wrapped or nothing.”

He handed Jungkook the cigarette and Jungkook took two more puffs before dropping it into the red bull can. It sizzled and went out.

Taehyung was looking through one of his backpacks hung from hooks attached to the side of the closet. He came up with a little baggie. “Here,” he handed it over to Jungkook, genuine excitement in his voice, “I know you don't even play the guitar anymore but, it's the pick Bowie apparently lined his coke with. At someone’s grandpa’s house."

Jungkook gaped at it. The pick was black enamel with a mother of pearl inlay. "No way. No way, Tae. Bowie? Oh my god. And I'm getting back into guitar. Where did you find this?"

"Bought it at a yard sale, thought you might like it." He stops abruptly, closes up again, like a curtain call. Le fin. "You didn't tell me you were picking guitar up."

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal."

There is a gravity to Taehyung right then. Nothing is identifiably wrong – but Jungkook can sense instability behind the smooth façade, a scale ready to tip either way.

"You always tell me stuff like that.”

“I would but you don't exactly see my texts," Jungkook says. Doesn't know why he does it, maybe just driven by the memory of sending Taehyung little hellos and hearing nothing in return. "You didn't even pick up my call this morning."

"Which call?"

"I called you. Earlier today. From the airport. And later. Just to make sure. Just."

"You flew out today? How’re you here?"

"You didn’t pick up my call."

"Where the hell is my phone," Taehyung turns away then, but Jungkook can tell he’s hiding his face. Taehyung shuffles around his desk, retrieves the mobile from inside his messenger bag, plugs it in, "What call?"

He tosses his phone away when it doesn’t light up immediately. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to drive on the highway that long whilst tired? And in the shitty fog-slippery roads.” He presses his palms to his eyes.

"It's been months since we've spoken more than a few words to each other–”

“And you’ve decided to drive all the way here to corner me about it.”

“Corner you?” Jungkook's hand rose to rub his chest. It smarted so badly, “I want to spend Christmas with you.”

Taehyung turned uneasy. “Do not drive like that again.”

“I miss you.” The admission is inelegant. “I wanted to be with you. Why are you being so difficult?”

He feels Taehyung look at him carefully and see him register the information. Jungkook holds still and lets Taehyung see it, see all of it, for once. He’s too tired to hold any of it in, too unexpectedly upset to pretend he’s not.

”You hate having me around that much?”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I think there are more ways than losing someone in an accident.” Taehyung flinches. “Like how I've lost you.”

"Fuck off," Taehyung turned away from him, "Fuck off, Jungkook, What are you saying?"

Taehyung hates heart-talk, and trapping him like this is unfair. But Jungkook can’t be kind. His brain is a hemorrhage.

“You know my fucking cheeseburger order, but there’s a lot of shit you don’t, hyung, it’s not the same anymore.”

Taehyung moved further away from him in the little room, as much as possible. He adjusted the backpack on the closet for something to do. "Those are biiig words, big boy.”

Jungkook shook his head, irritable, “Don’t do that. I get that you didn’t think I was important enough to come meet me after six whole months but don’t be sarcastic.”

That seems to get under Taehyung’s skin. “I stood in line for 8 hours and paid $1200 so I could get you a guitar pick but of course, you’re not important.”

“I don’t want a fucking guitar pick,” Jungkook said, knowing it will hurt Taehyung. Wanting to do exactly that. 

“Then what? Should I steal David Bowie’s bones for you, will that make you happy.”

Now or never, now or never, nowor–

“I want you to want me."

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook.”

They regarded one another in the bleak light bleeding through the window.

"Because I've only ever wanted you and I’m sick of-."

Taehyung clicked his tongue, "Come on, man. That’s not true."

"I can never be anyone else’s. You know this, you know that in all these years I haven’t even looked-"

"Mason Traeger.”

Jungkook stopped short, “What?”

“And Cha Eunwoo. You went out with him for a whole year before he moved.”

Jungkook's eyebrows go a little higher. “Why is he even relevant?”

“You were together. You told me, you were. You went with him to prom and then you spent the weekend together. You came back the next day, and. And you told me. Y-you told me what he did. He-”

“He, what?"

“Nothing.”

“He what, hyung?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung’s jaw is set when he turns bodily away from Jungkook, a scowl taking over his entire face. "I didn't even want to bring it up. You always do this. You're always goading me into these little mind games of yours. How old’re you, twelve?"

Once those words might have spiraled Jungkook into weeks of despair, now Jungkook squared his shoulders, weathered them, "I let him fuck me at prom."

Taehyung raked a hand through his hair, messing it up, "What the fuck, Jungkook."

"That's what you were going to say, right? Don't turn your back on me."

"Go to hell,” Taehyung spat. It was more confirmation than Jungkook had expected. 

"What, you think you need to be in love with someone to sleep with them, Tae?” Jungkook followed him to the corner where he was trying to escape, hot on his heels, “Have you loved every person you've left my room to go fuck?" 

His field of vision whirled around like a carousel but his body, after all this carnage, was still standing. He expected that it would have collapsed, like his world had, like his heart was.

“Wanna know why I did it?"

Taehyung laughed in a breathless, humorless huff, "Not really, dude. Trust me." 

He tried to skirt past him but Jungkook’s hand closed around his arm. Except this time, to shove him back against the wall and Taehyung went, fell back against it.

"Admit it. You’re gagging to ask."

"I said I don’t want. To know. "

"Bullshit. You broke his fucking nose. I bet you think about it, every sordid detail of how he bent me over those cheap motel sheets and nutted all over my back. He didn’t even stop and I was so sore but I didn't ask him to. He fucked me hard and fast and mean. And I let him. I did it for you."

Jungkook’s breath choked out of him as Taehyung’s hand closed around his throat; painfully, pleasurably tight. For the briefest second, a genuine flare of alarm trilled through him, hot and liquid. It sent a thrill of feeling down to his toes. Taehyung’s breath was gusting over his chin in short, furious huffs. “Because you said sluts know their way around.”

Taehyung’s face fell. He wasn't even smiling to begin with.

Belatedly, Jungkook heard himself. He was faintly horrified. The last scraps of his dignity fraying by the second. He had mostly come to terms with the fact that he was desperately in love with his best friend, but it still caught him off guard at times, how very far he was willing to fall in every sense. 

"Get out," Taehyung said in the hush that fell. He let Jungkook go.

Jungkook left.

The carpeting down the hallway muffles Jungkook’s thunderous footsteps; down the hallway, down the elevator, down the lobby. His shoes are filling with rocks but he wills his legs forward. Come on, he tells them like an angry mother while his stomach twists like a tearful child, gnawing at her skirt. 

At the front entrance, he had to stop. The absence that he’d become so inured to felt unbearable as he tried to push the glass doors open to the parking lot. It was heavy, he could only get it to budge just a little bit. But the cold air rushed in, making him shiver.

He took a breath, then another, realised he was panting. He squared his jaw and stalked back, his shoulders propped like a fight and trying not to throw up. Four flights of stairs to the door and he barely has to knock once before it’s pulled back. Taehyung’s framed there like a picture. Wet pavement eyes rimmed with wet lashes. 

He steps towards Jungkook and stops, as if sensing a boundary he cannot cross.

“I don't understand. Are we not still friends?”

The question was not offensive per se, but the tone grates on Jungkook. That limpid, grey voice Taehyung uses when he’s tired of a situation and is eager to drop it, sweep it under the rug amongst every other detritus of their ‘friendship’.

Mutinous, Jungkook mutters, “No,” and before Taehyung’s tears can fall down his cheeks, announces, “I’m going to kiss you.”

And Jungkook kisses him. Doesn’t quite remember how he does it. Only that he never thought he’d kiss Taehyung, actually he adamantly through the years told himself, threatened himself, crowded himself into a corner and out of kissing Taehyung. Because it wouldn’t count. It only mattered if Taehyung kissed him first. 

But Taehyung kisses back, hollow with hunger. 

And isn’t that supposed to be good enough? 

He’s kissing Taehyung and Taehyung is kissing him back, their faces are humid against each other. Yet no other point of their bodies is touching so it feels like Jungkook’s put his neck through a guillotine awaiting a reckoning, and it goes on and on.

His mind won’t stop racing; looping thoughts of how this could be the last time, or this is what the rest of his life is about to look like. His lips stumble-slide over Taehyung’s till Taehyung makes a breathless noise, pulling back a wet inch to breathe and Jungkook’s heart hotwires to a jumpstart.

He falls through the distance between them and against Taehyung’s chest, flattening them to the ground. Pulling him into a kiss this time, that’s neither soft, tender, nor experimental. 

Taehyung steadies him with two hands to the side of his ribs and Jungkook claws at his collar, angling them so his tongue slips into Taehyung’s gasping mouth. 

“Slow down” he murmurs, against Jungkook’s lips, his lips curving up into a smile as if he’s laughing at Jungkook, hands sliding to cradle Jungkook's jaw and Jungkook rocks down. He overbalances and knocks Taehyung on the forehead with his teeth.

“Ow.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung shushes him with a quick swipe of his thumb over his cheekbones, “Kook-ah.”

It sounds like ‘baby’. It feels like he could be Taehyung's baby.

Jungkook leans down, soft and kisses the high point of Taehyung’s cheekbone, moves a little further to his beauty mark and watches him close his eyes. 

“Are you fucking anyone?”

Taehyung protests, but Jungkook won’t let him look away. He holds him by the side of his face, fingers buried in his hair.

“I’m not celibate, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, prudent. There’s pink dusting his cheeks. 

“On the regular?”

“No.”

Jungkook leans back into his mouth, exhaling a sigh of relief into the kiss. 

“You’re so-” Taehyung interrupts them, but Jungkook shoves a knee between his legs and shuts him off. Of course he’s hard, he has to be but Taehyung must take that personally because in seconds, despite a tussle, Jungkook is flipped flat on his back. 

“Kid,” Taehyung says from above, and he’s strong enough to pin Jungkook down with just a hand on his sternum, “I’m the Taekwondo black belt here.”

Jungkook’s too turned on to reply to that, his eyes are rapidly filling again. The last time Taehyung was over him like this, he had turned Jungkook away with such cruelty that Jungkook still woke up in the middle of sleep covered in cold sweat.

Taehyung’s eyes turn kind again. He lets up, patting Jungkook’s face, thumb following the line of my jaw. “Now do you see why this is a bad idea?”

Jungkook sits up on his elbows, “No?”

He doesn’t bother wiping away the tears in his eyes because Taehyung has seen them anyway.

“You know how to get under my skin,” and I know how to get under yours, he does not say. “It's not healthy.”

“I don’t care.”

“And I am older to you-”

“By 2 years, that’s nothing-”

“It’s everything when you’ve known each other since school. Do you realise I’m the reason you had no friends in your class-”

“I had you.”

“You have to be reasonable about this," Taehyung pleads with him, "Because I cannot be reasonable about you. My mother-not mom, my birth mother–you know this – I’m no good at wanting things and knowing when to stop.”

"What does that mean?"

“I’m an addict when it comes to you!”

Taehyung apologizes quickly for shouting and truly pulls away now, shaking his head. Jungkook chases, crawling on the floor till Taehyung’s backed off against the side of the bed and there’s nowhere to go. 

“I am never going to leave,” Jungkook whispers, ducking down to get Taehyung to look at him. 

Taehyung’s head drops down between his shoulders, “S’not helping, kookie.”

“It’s the truth, hyung.”

Taehyung takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook forced himself to breathe normally, slowly.

“Do you think,” Jungkook begins carefully, “you’re not allowed me because you want me too much and all the time and in ways that could ruin my life if I tried to get away?”

Taehyung lifts his head, narrow eyes look at him with a mixture of anger and guilt. It’s grotesque, the bloodshot white of his eyes pierced by the thin ring of his iris and his blown pupil. 

“You’ll have to cut me off with a hacksaw if you want me to leave. Do you understand? You’ll have to take me out on a stretcher from your side. It’s too late. You’ve already ruined my life.”

Taehyung’s eyes flood, while Jungkook’s talking. There's a horrible twist in Jungkook’s guts. Taehyung hardly ever cries, at least when others can see. He doesn't cry now, exactly, but a drop spills from the inner corner of one eye and tracks along the line of his nose, rolls over the lovely shape of his top lip.

“The only thing you can do now is take care of me.”

Taehyung closes his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them again, he’s made a deal with himself. He cocks his chin, just a little. “Give me a kiss.”

Jungkook crushes himself against Taehyung. He’s too wired to coordinate a kiss, licking a stripe up Taehyung’s cheek; tasting salt and tears, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow. Taehyung keeps him in place with a tight arm around his neck. The hold is unforgiving and he has Jungkook’s chin in his other hand, using it to tilt Jungkook’s head up. He kisses down the side of Jungkook's jaw and neck, overlapping sucker punch kisses, and Jungkook hears each of them before he feels them. His toes curl in his socks and his mouth parts open and wet at the juncture of Taehyung’s inner elbow. He nudges his face till he can slip Taehyung's thumb into his mouth. He is not whining, but he sucks Taehyung’s finger down to the root, wets Taehyung’s palm with his spit, turning to face him because he wants to be kissed again. 

Taehyung raises his head, his lips are unnaturally red and his eyes fix on Jungkook’s lips. He pulls his thumb out just an inch and pushes it back in. It presses down the pad of Jungkook’s tongue and it makes a noise. Taehyung’s eyes rise up to his. He does it again, slides his thumb out, pushes it back in. Drinking in Jungkook’s expression. His nose flares as Jungkook swallows around it. Keeping all that saliva Taehyung’s coaxed out of him for himself.

Taehyung pulls Jungkook forward in like a fish on a hook. He smears the spit on Jungkook’s plush lips with the pad of his thumb. And kisses him on a hard exhale. 

He holds Jungkook’s face in both hands, his palms covering Jungkook’s ears and the world goes cottony, becomes irrelevant. There’s just the way Taehyung kisses him like something guilty. 

I’m an addict when it comes to you..

Taehyung bites his bottom lip and Jungkook does whine this time, water springing to his eyes. Taehyung licks over it. The tenor of their kisses change, deepen, and Taehyung holds him gently by the back of his neck, coaxing him into calm.

“What do you want?” Taehyung asks. 

“Inside…,” Jungkook’s brain lags. 

Taehyung’s eyes crease in a smile, just about, “Inside me?”

Jungkook shakes his head. 

“No? Inside you?”

Jungkook nods, nods in, his nose brushes Taehyung’s. 

"You want my finger?"

The words gust over Jungkook’s wet lips. His asshole clenches. 

“Cock,” Jungkook answers. He covers Taehyung’s hands with his own and trails them down his body, passing over his pebbled nipples and ribs, his sides, letting them settle on his ass, Taehyung's middle finger positioned just above the dip in his briefs. “In here.”

Here, Taehyung repeated soundlessly.

Taehyung’s dips his middle finger down, under the waistband of his shorts but over his underwear. His fingertip is rough as it finds and circles Jungkook’s asshole. Jungkook’s breath does something funny. Even through the fabric, Jungkook can feel the warmth of that one point of contact as Taehyung pushes on his hole to make him rock up against the hard tap of his cock.

Their lips slide messily together, Jungkook's hands raking through the back of Taehyung's hair. “Please,” he says. Taehyung circles the hole again with his finger like a clit, content to do it until Jungkook is shaking. Jungkook settles properly on Taehyung’s lap, bearing down on his cock and trying to force him into action. It works a little. Taehyung tries to slip his fingers past the leg of Jungkook’s briefs, but it is too tight, the angle all wrong. Jungkook pushes his shorts down, along with his briefs, and Taehyung immediately cups his cheeks. He pulls them apart and replaces his finger at Jungkook’s entrance.

The difference is startling; Jungkook can feel every ridge of Taehyung’s finger. His jaw opens on a click, and Taehyung brings his hand up, holding a cupped palm under Jungkook’s mouth for him to spit into.

Taehyung notches Jungkook’s hip back and positions him. Jungkook lets out another loud sigh. The three fingers Jungkook is fucking him with are not thick, but they are long with hard knuckles. Jungkook feels each knuckle entering him like balls on an anal bead. His breath stutters out of him.

Taehyung makes him give up more spit.

The front of his briefs is embarrassingly sticky. Jungkook cannot wait any longer. He reaches a hand between them and slips his fingers under the elastic band of Taehyung’s boxers. He feels Taehyung’s rhythm falter inside and watches Taehyung close his eyes for the first time since they start this. Taehyung is deliciously heavy in his hand and slick with precum. Jungkook sighs as he wraps a hand around Taehyung’s cock. He strokes Taehyung slowly, from root to tip, twisting his hand around Taehyung’s erection. It is a lot to fit inside.

Taehyung kisses him behind his ear, in his hair, the soft spot under his jaw. He has always thought a handjob is a handjob, something low-effort to do to get off. He has been so wrong. The little sounds Taehyung makes, the tightening of his brow, the way Taehyung is so responsive in his hand makes him weak in the knees. It feels greedy to want more.

But want he does. There is a tangle of limbs as Jungkook pulls one leg out of his briefs and shorts, letting them pool around the knee of the other. Taehyung’s fingers slip out. Jungkook palms Taehyung again, taps him against his own hole. Jungkook’s rim flexes greedily into the touch.

Taehyung stops him when he tries to take him in immediately, his hole kissing Taehyung’s tip.

“I’m not going to fuck you on the floor.”

Taehyung senses Jungkook’s impending tantrum and ushers them onto his bed. They are a crowd on the narrow twin mattress together, and there is nowhere else for Taehyung to go but on top of Jungkook, enveloping him completely. Taehyung’s pants are gathered under his buttocks and Jungkook pulls him by them. Jungkook is naked from the waist down and Taehyung barely has his cock out. He shivers at how urgent it suddenly feels.

He gets up from the bed and Jungkook hears the opening and closing of drawers. Heat leeches out of his body; his T-shirt is rucked halfway up his chest. He must make his displeasure known because Taehyung is suddenly all around him again. “I’m here, I’m sorry,” he says. He has gotten rid of his pants, his socks too.

He kisses Jungkook just above the brow, tucks a strand of hair behind Jungkook’s ear, trailing his thumb down its shell and Jungkook’s jaw to tilt his chin up into a kiss; all lips, all tongue. Taehyung ran his hands all over Jungkook’s sides, he was trying to get Jungkook’s shirt up. Taehyung was holding his chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting his face the way he wanted. Taehyung kissed him again, and again. Kissed his ear, his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, and snuck his hands under Jungkook’s t-shirt. Jungkook helped, tossing it over his head. 

At the first glide of his hands over Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung paused. He had been kissing down Jungkook’s throat. He leaned back and Jungkook saw his jaw clench, “Shit, Kook-ah.” Jungkook hissed out at the first twist of his nipple barbel between Taehyung’s fingers. Taehyung looked up to his eyes briefly, “yeah?” The next pinch was harder. “When did you get these,” Taehyung asked, his voice somewhere between pissed off and horny.

“Uhnghh, don't know,” Jungkook panted, nobody had touched them before, “September?”

Silver barbels through each of his nipples and when Taehyung flicked it and the sensation went straight to his cock. Jungkook put an arm across his face and palmed his cock.

“You like them?” he asked.

Taehyung answered by licking a hot stripe across one of them. He blew on it just after and Jungkook could feel them go harder. Precum wet his hand when Taehyung closed his lips around one and sucked. He fingers toying with the other. Jungkook fisted Taehyung’s silky hair and Jungkook’s piercings clacked against Taehyung’s teeth like rock candy. Jungkook wrapped his legs around Taehyung and melted under Taehyung’s tongue like sugar. Losing track of time. 

Taehyung leaned over to scoop some vaseline out from a tub on the bedside table and his fingers were back. The friction earlier had been good, but the easy slide with which Taehyung entered him made his toes curl. Slick smeared around his rim. Jungkook’s moans turned to reedy cries, higher and so close, “Do you want more?” Taehyung asked three fingers in. Jungkook nodded, unmoored. 

“Do you want another?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replied. I want all of you. 

“My whole hand? My fist?”

Jungkook was gripping the pillowcase under his head with his other hand. He shuddered, his hips moving in small thrusts which Taehyung mirrored, his cock rubbing Jungkook’s hip. 

“Yes,” Jungkook murmured, “yes.” 

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asked, pupils all blown out, even as he was teasing a fourth finger in. Jungkook’s body seized up at the intrusion. His eyes rolled back. Too much, which is exactly what he needed.

Taehyung was petting his flank, soft and kind, though his fingers were relentless.

“More,” Jungkook said, twisting his own nipple with one hand as his feet skidded on Taehyung’s bedding. 

“I can’t fit my whole thumb, Kook-ah.”

“Fuck me then,” Jungkook’s hands were flying on his cock. “Fuckme-fuckmefuckmefuckme-”

He heard Taehyung curse. His fingers slipped out of Jungkook a second time. Jungkook watched Taehyung roll on a condom with irritating precision and spread his legs as far as they can go to make room for Taehyung again, tipping his head back on the pillow and heaving in a breath. Taehyung palmed the back of one of Jungkook’s knees and folded up, placing it on his shoulder. His mouth pursed against the knob of Jungkook’s ankle as he held his cock steady in one hand and guided it inside.

“Okay?” he asked, when the head popped inside Jungkook. 

Jungkook tilted his hip, just so. “I know how to take it.”

Taehyung’s throat worked. He lowered himself further into Jungkook and didn’t stop till Jungkook was in his lap. Jungkook sighed, his toes digging into Taehyung’s thigh, knees turning farther out, opening. Taehyung thrust inside him slowly until he started to push back, the triangle under his ribcage hollowing with each one of them. 

Eventually his sighs turned into moans. Taehyung’s ears were red, and the color trickled over his temples to his cheeks. His knee slid off Taehyung’s shoulder and Taehyung’s chest lowered to meet his. Jungkook took his hand off his cock and held Taehyung’s face to him. They weren’t kissing as much as they were just breathing together. Taehyung gathered him close and Jungkook grabbed back at him, arms looping through his shoulders. Their lips slid off and they were cheek to cheek then. Taehyung was so loud in his ear. He fucked Jungkook faster. Jungkook’s moans turned into sobs.

Taehyung turned his face into Jungkook’s, kissing his ear. Taehyung patted his hip. 

“Can you turn on your stomach?” Jungkook nodded, trying to gather his knees together. 

“I’ve always–,” Taehyung began to explain. Jungkook kisses him shut and turns.

“Always wanted to bend me over?”

He hears Taehyung’s hand land on his ass with a smack before he feels it. He smiles, lazy as a cat and lowers himself down so that his chest is on the pillow, his ass high up in the air and lube leaking out of him like he has been making it himself.

Taehyung puts his knees on either side of Jungkook’s and pushes them together. He angles his hips exactly how he likes it—how Jungkook likes it. He hears the slick sound of Taehyung jerking himself off, probably at the sight in front of him.

Taehyung put a thumb to his puffy rim to make it wink open and Jungkook gasps as he feels Taehyung lick up his rim and then a wad of spit hits it. Taehyung hums, massaging it in before he thumbs his cock back inside. One long slide like a knife through butter. Taehyung curls his hip up and on the first thrust up, kisses Jungkook’s prostate.

“Fuck, hyung—”

“Yeah?”

Jungkook nodded and nodded. He had his eyes squeezed shut so tightly, he was seeing white. 

Taehyung hunches over him. Now that he has found the spot, he will not leave it alone. He has a hand in Jungkook’s hair and uses it to drag Jungkook’s head off the pillow and turn it just enough to meet him in a kiss. As filthy as Taehyung fucks him, the kiss is soft like an apology. He kisses Jungkook’s top lip, his bottom lip, nods in to make it deeper. His index finger briefly returns to Jungkook’s mouth so it is just wet enough to make it so good when he circles the tip of Jungkook’s cock and begins to stroke him. So wickedly out of tune with his thrusts that it makes the tell-tale shaking in Jungkook’s thighs worse, offering him no respite.

“I’m gonna-”

Taehyung licks into his mouth and Jungkook comes like that, his body shaking under Taehyung’s, his mouth open to Taehyung’s tongue.

It is Taehyung still pumping inside him that turns every breath Jungkook takes into a moan, his hole clenching on every thrust, and that must get to Taehyung because Jungkook feels him lose his rhythm. Taehyung tucks his head at Jungkook’s neck. His stomach lifts away from Jungkook’s back and he comes, teeth to his nape.

Taehyung’s legs gave out as his hips bucked in short, uncontrolled jabs. They fell to their sides. Jungkook reached back to hold Taehyung’s hip, keeping him inside as he went soft. 

It takes a while for Taehyung to come back to him. When he does, he kisses Jungkook between the eyebrows, absentminded and fond. "So good for me, Jungkook-ah" he says.

Jungkook hums, eyes closed and his hand reaches up blindly to cup the back of Taehyung's neck, feeling the muscle shift there as Taehyung drops kisses all over his face. It's at the drop of something warm on his cheek that makes take notice.

“Tae?” Jungkook blinked up.

“Sorry,” Taehyung shakes his head, leaning away. His voice catches, he’s losing his breath. “I’m sorry that I made you feel – that I wasn’t there for your first time.”

Taehyung hides his face in Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook cradles him there, soothing him. “You can have all my lasts, I promise.”

Taehyung leans up, his face splotchy with tears. “I wanted you, Jungkook, always.” Jungkook feels the build-up of tears in the corners of his eyes. “Since forever.”

Jungkook hiccups and squeezes his eyes close. He cannot hold it back. Taehyung fusses over him, even as his own chin is wet and trembling. They are like toddlers, crying because the other is. Taehyung kisses his cheek, three times in the same spot. It makes Jungkook laugh, despite everything. Maybe because of it. Taehyung brushes hair off his cheek and keeps his fingertips there, like he wants to touch the source of his laughter.

Exhausted, Jungkook nuzzles at him. His wet eyelashes are heavy on his eyes. They lie there till Taehyung slips out of him. Jungkook lets him up and hears him stumble as he gets off the bed to dispose of the condom, both of them laughing at it.

“Pussy power,” Jungkook whispers, “magic.”

Taehyung snorts. He wrestles the laundry bag upright from where he has kicked it and comes back with an old T-shirt. The wind knocks on the windows. Taehyung parts his legs again and carefully—so carefully—cleans him up. The tip of his tongue resting in the corner of his mouth in concentration. Jungkook blinks, and Taehyung is eight years old again, between the second and third toilet cubicle in their old primary school, wiping chocolate off Jungkook’s tiny hands. And Jungkook's six too then, he lets Taehyung take care of him.

Taehyung won't let Jungkook blow him in the showers so they shower in separate cubicles. But midway through he slips into Jungkook’s stall and eats him out anyway. 

“Do you want to go out for dinner?” Jungkook asks, as they're drying their hair back in his room, but mainly just fighting over the hair dryer. 

“I don’t think anything is open,” Taehyung says, shaking his wet hair out. 

Jungkook shoves at him as water droplets hit his cheeks. “Ugh, I forgot college towns are dead during Christmas.”

“Sorry, not everywhere is New York.”

“I didn't even–,” Jungkook decides to drop it. “I'm hungry.” Then says it again in Korean, cutesy, “Hyung, hungry.”

Taehyung pecks him on the lips. He's so predictable and still Jungkook’s fingers curl tighter around the hair dryer. 

“The dining hall is there. I can get you in.”

So that's how they end up in the dining hall. It's mostly empty, maybe five people other than the two of them. All of them avoiding any sort of eye contact. Taehyung greets the guy handling the station. 

“Are you the only one in tonight?” Taehyung asks, all familiarity. 

“Yeah, but at least I'm not the only one on campus.”

“No you definitely aren't,” Taehyung laughs. “Some of us are in the trenches with you.”

“Thank god.”

Jungkook moved in closer to look over Taehyung’s shoulder, trying to see what was on the counter. His whole thigh pressed against Taehyung’s, Jungkook’s knee digging into the back of his. “I'm sorry,” Jungkook said, “we're kinda hungry.”

The guy at the counter- Vincent, according to his nametag, quickly apologized and began ladling the sides onto the plate. 

Jungkook rested his chin on Taehyung’s collarbone as he placed a kiss on his neck. Another one, just below Taehyung’s jaw. Another one, on his cheek. Taehyung turned his face against Jungkook’s and kissed him, lips closed, “So no one’s allowed to talk to me now? No one?” Taehyung whispered under his breath and Jungkook kissed him again in quick, little pecks, “No one, keep your eyes on me–” he felt Taehyung’s lips curl against his and slipped his tongue past Taehyung’s teeth. He slipped his hand around Taehyung’s waist.

They broke apart at the sound of a throat being cleared. The tips of Vincent’s ears had gone red, “All set.”

Taehyung thanked him and collected the trays. His nose was red, his mouth smug. When they've turned their back, Taehyung raises his eyebrows, “That wasn't very nice.”

Jungkook shrugged.

They settled down in one of the chairs closest to the beverage counter. Taehyung got a warm tea, he got Jungkook one too and Jungkook swung his legs over Taehyung’s. Taehyung put his hand over Jungkook’s knees, gathered them closer, “Do you want to have a look around the campus tomorrow?”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Taehyung pushed the tray away, “You don’t want to.”

“I was thinking, if we leave really early, can we make it before presents?”

“Back home? You mean LA?”

“I know you didn’t want to go home-”

“I didn’t not want to go home. It didn’t want to be reminded how far you always are.” He bent forward and cups Jungkook’s face in his hands; Jungkook sighed and nuzzled against his palm. The touch of Taehyung’s hands against his skin, grounding and all-encompassing, makes him almost dizzy with tenderness. “My only living boy in New York.”

Jungkook hugged him.

“I don’t think we can make it before presents though,” Taehyung said. 

“We can call them, let them know.”

“Mom is really pissed at me.”

“I’m with her on that.”

Taehyung sighs, and Jungkook can feel his breath against his skin, “I’ll text her.”

It's not until 10 am in the morning that they manage to make it to the car. Jungkook had passed out after the day he'd had and Taehyung did not have the heart to wake him up. Then they'd gotten occupied with more urgent things than how bad the traffic got on Christmas morning. 

Taehyung had heard an earful from his parents as well as his sister who's flown down with her newborn so he's a little grumpy as they walk across the parking lot. 

Jungkook takes the passenger side and Taehyung tosses the weekend bag in the back row before he gets in on the driver's side. The bag rolls onto the floor as Taehyung begins to pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. It's filled with nothing other than books and notes.

Jungkook looks sidelong at Taehyung as he formulates his question. “The firms you're looking into,” he begins. Taehyung hums. “Are any of them in New York?”

Taehyung's hands tighten on the steering wheel,“...some of them.”

Jungkook's face lights up with a smile. 

“Really?”

Taehyung looks at him then back at the road. “I made you a promise.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses his cheek, road safety be damned. He takes Taehyung's hand and drapes it across his shoulder, settles against him. “And the Bar is easier in New York.”

Predictably Taehyung protests at that, he tries to take his arm away. But Jungkook’s got their hands tightly interlocked. He laughs at the indignation on Taehyung's face and doesn't let go.