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It’s for ARMY, Jeongguk says. The skinship makes their fans laugh, and coo; some of them scream. Sometimes, it makes him want to scream, too.
Taehyung’s sitting in his lap. It’s not new, but he’s doing it more, looking up and meeting Jeongguk’s eyes with big, brown puppy dog eyes, lips quirked into a tata-mic-smile that Jeongguk involuntarily smiles back at. Taehyung had always been a special type of cute; soft, brilliant, shining, and energetic. He pulled Jeongguk right out of his small and shy shell into the shimmering lights of idol-dom, pulling him along for pranks and jokes as if they were just normal teens.
Now, they are here.
Jeongguk remembers once saying in the ‘Five Taehyungs or Five-year-old Taehyung?’ that five Taehyungs would be too shiny (he’d need sunglasses), and he’s seen the clip reposted so many times it’s plastered onto the inside of his skull.
Taehyung was cute, and then they left the greenroom, and he’s all sharp lines and rough edges and piercing eyes. Taehyung is wearing a headband today, brown hair puffing over it. He double-checks that his earpiece is secure, looking up and meeting Jeongguk’s eyes in what feels like slow-motion.
They’re dressed comfortably for the next performance, clad in loose pajama-like robes that, while relaxed, still sparkle and shine in the stage lights. Taehyung’s long red robe is slipping on his shoulder, the top button coming loose. Jeongguk, as if he were Taehyung’s personal stylist, approaches the elder wordlessly and buttons his shirt, pretending he doesn’t notice Taehyung tilt his head away in embarrassment. So unashamed but so easily flustered–Jeongguk can’t help but find his hyung endearing.
During the performance, they’re walking all around the stage, lying back in the couches placed for the set, thankful for the breather. Jeongguk’s eyes keep finding Taehyung’s, and the older’s eyes scan Jeongguk up and down like he’s a piece of meat and Taehyung hasn’t eaten for days. The looks are quick, though, and Taehyung is out of the camera’s range.
It’s what happens at the end of the song that makes Jeongguk’s stomach flip and arm hair stand straight.
Taehyung is leaning towards him, during the last verse, staring at Jeongguk’s lips as he sings, glancing up at his eyes, and moving even closer. Jeongguk tries not to connect the look on Tae’s face to the lyrics of the verse they’re singing.
“Your love, your love, your love, I miss that,” Jeongguk takes a breath, glancing at the camera and then back at Taehyung.
“Your love, your love, your love, I want that,” Taehyung looks him up and down, sporting that stupid flirty smirk he always uses when he does his flirty fanservice.
His fanservice, Jeongguk reminds himself.
His ears redden as he sings his last line, Taehyung staring at his lips while the camera is directly facing them. “Your touch, your touch, your touch, I need that,” and Taehyung looks as if he’s about to respond to a request Jeongguk made personally, before his face snaps back to face the camera as he finishes the song.
Jeongguk exits the stage profusely out of breath, though it’s not so much because of the performance anymore.
Taehyung leans against Jeongguk’s back while he catches his breath after the last song, panting as his eyes scan the crowd. Taehyung’s hot breath tickles the back of Jeongguk’s neck, and despite the sweat and the heat and the warmth of the air leaving Taehyung’s mouth, a chill goes down his spine. They’re in front of thousands of ARMYs, and Taehyung’s soft lips, still sticky with lip gloss that’s half off by now, press against the nape of Jeongguk’s neck. He freezes, just for a moment, and the crowd roars.
He remembers, then, despite his fluttering heartbeat, that it’s just fanservice.
Taehyung does a lot of that stuff in front of fans, in front of cameras. Jeongguk has surely seen several compilations titled along the lines of Taehyung being clingy toward him (not that Jeongguk was watching them, of course).
But Tae is like that off-camera, too.
He’s all soft smiles and gentle, feather-light, fleeting touches that leave Jeongguk’s skin burning and tingling like he’d been slapped.
But Tae is like that with everyone.
In fact, right now, he’s got his arms thrown around Seokjin’s shoulders, playing with one of his earrings. Jeongguk hears Seokjin chastise him, but the older man makes no moves to separate himself from Taehyung’s arms. None of the members really shies away from Taehyung’s affections, because how could they?
It’s nearly impossible to resist the older’s big brown puppy eyes, his fluffy hair, his dramatic head tilts, and the voice changes he makes when his mood changes or he’s trying to get something from one of them. Like a puppy begging, it’s impossible to say no.
Tae is just like that.
Which is why it’s impossible not to notice the change.
Taehyung doesn’t hug Jeongguk in front of cameras anymore; doesn’t tackle him with giggles, doesn’t sit in his lap, doesn’t ruffle his hair or press his soft lips against the back of his neck. Sometimes, he drifts close, and Jeongguk's stomach flips with nerves and hope, only to sink when Taehyung appears to second-guess himself, slipping away from Jeongguk as swiftly as he came.
It makes no sense, but when Jeongguk sees Taehyung’s head in Jimin’s lap, the older of the two carding his fingers through his hair and smiling between giggles, his stomach drops.
Taehyung and Jimin have always been affectionate–they’re best friends; soulmates, even. Jeongguk has no right to be jealous, but Taehyung hasn’t lain in his lap in weeks and Jeongguk hasn’t run his hands through his hyung’s hair in too long.
He catches Taehyung by the bathroom one day, greeted by the boy’s soft smile. It’s not the wide, boxy smile that makes his cheeks high and Jeongguk stutter, but something small and personal.
“Taehyungie-hyung,” Jeongguuk starts, but struggles to find the words. “Are you upset with me?”
Taehyung seems to pause. “Upset? Why would I be upset?”
Jeongguk isn’t sure how he should approach his answer. Oh, well, you don’t touch me as much these days, so I thought maybe you hate me or something.
“Uhm, no reason.” Smooth.
The other narrows his eyes, surely knowing his dongsaeng better than to believe such an obvious and undeveloped lie.
Taehyung approaches Jeongguk, throwing an arm around him. The unease leaves the younger’s mind, just a little. “Guuukkie~” he singsongs, hand in Jeongguk’s hair. There are no cameras. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“...I know, hyung.”
Taheyung giggles, sweet and harmonious. Jeongguk’s thoughts get swallowed by the baritone of the other’s voice, his stomach sinking when Taehyung pulls away. If Jeongguk were any less shy, specifically about this situation, he would’ve pulled Taehyung right back to him. Maybe he would’ve a few months ago, before he had started paying a little too much attention to the way he feels when Taehyung is around.
The conversation ends there, and they walk back to their shared kitchen to eat with the others before their schedule begins for the day.
For the next week, Jeongguk finds himself clinging a little closer, a little harder, to Taehyung whenever he gets the opportunity. He places a hand on Tae’s leg during interviews or pulls him closer, fingers intertwined, during a shooting of Run BTS.
The camera director shoots Taehyung a look, and in the next take for the filming of the next game, Taehyung is seated next to Namjoon instead.
The separation continues during their schedules, and Jeongguk feels like he only meets Taehyung’s eyes when they’re in the dorms. It continues to wear on Jeongguk, paranoia sweeping through his head as he tries to sneak glances at Taehyung while cameras are in their face, the filming of a Bangtan Bomb taking place before another performance, makeup brushes and fretting over hair disturbing Jeongguk’s analysis of Taehyung’s behavior.
Tae is done with his makeup and hair, busy laughing with Hoseok, who tickles Taehyung’s sides playfully. Taehyung’s smile is the widest and boxiest Jeongguk has seen in a while, and he wonders if Taehyung has been upset or if Jeongguk just hasn’t been near him enough to be on the receiving end of it.
It’s a complete 180 when they get on stage. Taehyung grips Jeongguk’s shoulder and sings while looking straight at him. Jeongguk can feel his ears reddening, lips pulled taut in a smile he tries to conceal. Their verse ends, and the moment is cut short. Taehyung is already halfway across the stage. It’s just for fanservice.
Jeongguk finds himself seeking Taehyung out on stage more than he should, returning the affections tenfold. He picks Taehyung up and spins him around, brushes his fingers against his neck, and while the crowd roars in the background, Jeongguk is able to admit to himself that even if Taehyung is, Jeongguk is certainly not doing this for fanservice.
Taehyung smiles at him when they’re in the wings. He smiles sadly, as if forcing his lips upward is an effort.
It makes it hard for Jeongguk to smile, too.
After the performance, the members and staff gather for a meal. Jimin pulls Jeongguk aside.
“Did you say something to Taehyung?”
Jeongguk is taken aback. “What?”
“Have you looked at him? He looks miserable, and he keeps looking at you. What did you do?”
“Why did I have to do something?”
“Because you’re looking at him right back like you’re in a lover’s quarrel!” Jimin whisper-shouts, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else.
His face heats up at Jimin’s phrasing, and maybe it's the exhaustion from the performance, but Jeongguk can feel his heartbeat heavy in his chest.
Jimin narrows his eyes before sighing, shoving Jeongguk back towards the table. “Just talk to him. Don’t do anything dumb.”
Some people may be surprised by Jimin’s forthright protective behavior, but most of the members had come to expect it from one soulmate to the other–Jimin and Taehyung knew each other’s cues without having to speak, sometimes without even meeting eyes. Jeongguk would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit jealous, though he knows it’s baseless and moves on.
Jimin leaves Jeongguk with his thoughts, and Jeongguk stays primarily to himself until he’s back in his hotel room, protesting the plans in the group chat that say they want to invade Jeongguk’s hotel room.
Still, Jeongguk is restless. Taehyung is still on his mind, eyebags revealed with the post-performance makeup removal. He hears Jimin’s words in his head again and again, and all of a sudden, he’s knocking on the door of Taehyung’s hotel room.
The door creaks open after a minute.
“-so sorry,” Taehyung begins, before looking up and realizing who it is at his door. “Oh. Jeonggukie.”
“Hi,” he says, eloquently.
“Thought you were room service.” The silence hangs awkwardly in the air. “Oh, sorry. Come in.”
Taehyung leads Jeongguk into his hotel room, the mirror image of his own.
“Is everything okay?” The words tumble from Jeongguk’s lips the moment the door closes behind them.
His sudden surge of bravery is brought on only by the nagging anxiety that he did something to upset Taehyung, or that Taehyung was upset about something and not telling him. It stings a little to not be in the loop. Though by the sound of it, even Jimin wasn’t aware of what was going on with Taehyung.
Taehyung laughs, a breath of air that is fueled by nervous energy. Jeongguk sees the other roll his shoulders.
“Don’t say it’s nothing,” Jeongguk adds, because he knows Taehyung, and he knows how stubborn he is.
The air is thick and heavy, and their feet are still rooted to the hotel floor, unmoving and almost scared to move.
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says.
“Sorry? For what?”
With a laugh, “for being distant. I know you’ve noticed. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“Hyung…” Jeongguk wants to say he isn’t hurt, even though he knows he has felt that way a couple of times over the situation. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“One of the managers,” Taehyung begins, rubbing his eyes with a sleeved fist, “said I had been too clingy to you specifically…” the older sniffles, trying to hide behind his hand. Even if it wasn’t an obvious movement, Jeongguk still would have noticed.
He breaks the stillness of his frozen feet and moves closer to Taehyung, hesitating for a moment. “Do…Can I hug you?”
Taehyung nods, and the moment Jeongguk envelops him in his arms, he hears a soft cry. “Taehyungie-hyung…”
“I’m sorry, Gukkie.”
Jeongguk hushes him and ushers them both towards the small living-area of the hotel room. Sitting down, he pulls Taehyung into his lap like he used to, though it feels so much different now. The butterflies Jeongguk usually gets are replaced with bubbling concern for his hyung, whose soft cries are muffled against Jeongguk’s neck.
The hot air leaving Taehyung’s mouth now is so much different from the soft kiss on stage, warm breath tickling his hair. There’s something different, but Jeongguk is no less comfortable. He lets Taehyung explain at his own pace.
“They told me that I’m too close to you on camera, that it looks…” he trails off, unsure about how to explain the situation. Taehyung doesn't have to, though. He understands.
(Mostly).
“But…don’t they like the fanservice?” After all, Jeongguk had pushed the idea of Taehyung simply touching him out of his mind, accepting that the staring and the hugging and the sneaky kisses were produced for the roaring crowd.
Taehyung’s cries are cut short by a wet laugh. “Jeonggukie…” He sniffles again, “You’re so oblivious.”
His heart skips a beat, and Taehyung brings his face out of hiding. His eyes are puffy, red, and watery, his cheeks flushed and swollen. Jeongguk wipes the stray tears from Taehyung’s face. Jeongguk is silent as a big hand reaches up to cup his face.
“Why would they get upset with me if it was just for fanservice, hm?” Even when upset, Tae always found a way to tease Jeongguk.
“Oh,” he says dumbly.
“Is…should it just be fanservice?” Taehyung asks, uncharacteristically shy and far more obviously nervous.
Jeongguk’s nerves make him answer faster than he wants: “No!” He clears his throat. “I mean, it’s not…it’s not fanservice for me.”
Taehyung smiles, boxy, wide, and bright. Turns out he needs sunglasses even to handle the shininess of one Taehyung.
Right now, Taehyung’s massive grin is all Jeongguk’s. In this moment, the only one who gets to hear Taehyung’s laugh is him; no cameras, no members, no crowds.
“I missed you,” he breathes, forehead gently pressing against Taehyung’s.
“I’m sorry. I missed you, too.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t forget about me, ‘kay?” Jeongguk doesn’t have any expectations, not when they have the job they do and have to meet the standards that are set for them. Still, he wants Taehyung; he has wanted him.
“I could never, Jeonggukkie. My eyes are always on you.” Taehyung’s voice is low and quiet, a rasp tickling the back of his throat and likewise Jeongguk’s heart.
He knows, of course. He’s seen Tae’s stares, on stage, backstage, at home, across the world; he’s seen them everywhere.
Jeongguk hums in agreement, and the short hum follows the notes that now he only associates with Taehyung.
Your love, your love, your love, I want that.
Taehyung smiles, and though he pulls his face away from Jeongguk’s, he does it only to look the other in the eye, asking for a promise that makes their faces meet once again.
“Kiss me?”
“Yeah,” then louder, “yeah,” he confirms first with himself and then with Taehyung.
He cups Taehyung’s face with as much care as he can, brushing his thumb over the other’s cheek. He barely realizes he’s leaning in until he feels plush lips on his and eyelashes fluttering against his skin. He drinks Taehyung in like heavenly nectar.
The kiss is short and soft, a mere introduction to all of the feelings they now know they both have. Neither of them knows where to go next, other than what is comfortable. Something had clicked into place, and they would figure out how to make each piece of their hectic lives fit together, including each other.
“Taehyungie, you’re beautiful,” he confesses it sincerely, more than any time he’s called Taehyung handsome or pretty or cute on camera.
The older man smiles again, cheeks reddened. Words fail, so he leans in and kisses Jeongguk again.
And again.
And maybe a few more times.
So not fanservice.