#kstl

In all honesty, Taehyung can’t remember why he got so upset. Had his eyes welled with tears of joy? Was he horrified by the sugary monstrosity? There was something about the transition from kimchi to sticky syrup that he hadn’t been prepared for.

Taehyung runs his tongue over his front teeth and remembers how he’d gagged after eating a spoonful of butter, thinking it had been a scoop of ice cream. Now, he sits in front of fluffy pancakes topped with assorted berries and powdered sugar, and a large salted caramel latte off to the side, and tries not to consider how much of him is still exactly the same.

“I feel like I’m too dirty to be here,” Seokjin whispers against the side of Taehyung’s face. Taehyung wants to turn and laugh, but he can’t break away from Jungkook’s smiling face.

Across the table, Jungkook sits close enough to Yoongi that they keep bumping elbows while they eat. It turns out Agust D isn’t the pretentious, selfish, famous musician Taehyung had expected him to be.

Well, Taehyung thinks he’s pretentious, but the rest of Black Swan disagrees, so what the fuck does he know?

Two days after Spine Breaker, they’re sitting in a boutique cafe in the festival city’s downtown, racking up a bill that will total more than what their gigs sometimes offer. Yoongi said he’ll cover it, along with the expense of reserving the back room so they would have more privacy as they ate brunch. Because apparently Yoongi gets recognized when he goes out, and finds it “tiresome”. Taehyung wouldn’t know.

“Do you like living in New York?” Jimin asks Yoongi, pulling Taehyung from his thoughts to return to the conversation—if one can call it that. It has mostly been a Q&A with the alternative rapper, just shy of an interrogation from two eager fans.

“It’s definitely entertaining,” Yoongi offers with a shrug. He leans back in his chair, swirls his champagne flute, the bright orange mimosa twirling at a leisurely pace that matches his relaxed posture. “I prefer Chicago, though. I spend time there more than New York, when I can.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes grow wide. “We’re from Chicago!”

I’m from Daegu, Taehyung wants to interject. But he bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to think about how pink Jungkook’s cheeks get when Yoongi touches his shoulder.

“No wonder you’re so talented. I swear, Chicago produces the best talent. The music scene is more genuine.” Yoongi’s grin is gummy and sweet, or so Jimin said after they met at the Agust D meet and greet during Spine Breaker Fest.

Apparently, Black Swan’s performance, as well as Jimin and Jungkook’s auras, had made such an impression on Yoongi that he wanted to spend his last day in town with them.

Taehyung and Seokjin had stayed behind for the meet and greet, trying to finish cleaning out the Emo Mobile before dusk. Since the festival lasted all weekend, they got to camp out at the RV lot, an insignificant speck of rust and puke green metal in a sea of high-end tour buses. Sure, there were plenty of bands at Spine Breaker who were just as ragtag of a group as Black Swan, but Taehyung likes to pretend they’re the only ones. Rather than be ashamed, he feels a sense of pride in making it to a festival that big with what little resources and industry pull they have. Black Swan is for everyday misfits just trying to make it out alive.

Unlike Yoongi, with his gold Rolex and black card.

Well, maybe it’s not really a Rolex or a black card. Maybe it’s just an average watch and Yoongi actually has major credit card debt. Maybe Taehyung is grinding his molars and thinking about punching that smug grin off Yoongi’s face as Jimin and Jungkook gush over how cool it is to be getting brunch with their favorite musician.

Fuck, he needs about twenty mimosas right now. This conversation would be so much less painful if he could get even a little tipsy.

Taehyung gulps down his water. Just as he’s about to put the glass back, a waiter arrives with a huge pitcher and refills it without a word. Being doted on by a stranger makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.

“And what about you, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks after taking a sip of his mimosa. His eyebrows arch in anticipation.

Taehyung doesn’t mean to snap, but his response is dry and clipped. “What.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at Taehyung over his mimosa, poured in a standard water glass because he always spills champagne flutes.

“Is this the life you’ve always imagined as a musician?” Something about Yoongi’s tone sounds condescending, like Taehyung hasn’t met some standard he isn’t aware of.

Taehyung crosses his arms against his chest with a snort. “It’s Black Swan or nothing.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin adds through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He’s only half-listening; Taehyung doesn’t blame him.

Yoongi’s grin widens, and Taehyung hates it.

“Loyalty, I admire that,” Yoongi says, like it’s some fantastic feat.

Taehyung holds Yoongi’s gaze. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Beside Yoongi, Jungkook squirms in his seat. His front teeth nibble at his lip ring. Taehyung only feels a little bad.

“I suppose,” Yoongi shrugs before tipping his head back to finish the last of his mimosa. “Sometimes that line of thinking is a bit stifling, though, isn’t it?”

Jimin and Jungkook lock onto every word that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth, like this cafe is a riverbed and Yoongi is Jesus preparing a baptism. Taehyung’s gaze slides to Seokjin for backup, but he’s shoveling more food in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

Yoongi interlocks his fingers under his chin and lets his eyes roam Taehyung’s face. “Take Jungkook, for example.”

Jungkook perks up after hearing his name. It makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.

“What about him?” Taehyung asks, attempting to level his voice this time.

“He’s brilliant, isn’t he? You rarely come across vocals like his in a genre like this. There’s so much he could do” — Yoongi waves one hand in a sweeping motion across the table — “a whole assortment of opportunities, laid out like a buffet, to pick apart.”

“So true,” Jimin says, nodding along. “We could experiment more with our music, if we wanted to. I don’t know why we haven’t.”

The conversation morphs into a discussion about musicians who have changed their musical style over time, from Bring Me the Horizon to Mac Miller. Taehyung plops a strawberry in his mouth and wonders what the point is. Black Swan is fine how they are. What they’ve been doing is what got them to Spine Breaker Fest, right? Now that they’ve finally got more eyes on them, why would they switch things up?

For the rest of brunch, Taehyung falls into himself, a quiet observer. It helps that Seokjin seems uninterested in the conversation, too. The two men exchange remarks with one another, content with carrying on their own side conversation about Taehyung accidentally staining the pristine white tablecloth and Seokjin coming back from the bathroom, flustered from not knowing how to flush the fancy toilet.

Seokjin and Taehyung get so caught up in avoiding their peers that Taehyung almost misses Yoongi’s departing message.

“Really, though, I meant what I said earlier,” Yoongi talks like he’s speaking to all four of them, but he has his arm draped around Jungkook’s shoulders as they exit the cafe’s front doors.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook is cute when he’s hesitant, like every word he says is intentional, mulled over in his head before he speaks. Meanwhile, Taehyung thinks the filter between his thoughts and words is broken.

Outside, the heat prickles the back of Taehyung’s neck. He misses how much gentler the summer is back home—in Chicago, not home home. He can hardly remember summer at home.

“We can plan a time to meet up at my studio once I’m back in town. By that point, I’ll have a key you can keep.”

“That’s so generous,” Jungkook smiles, his gaze bouncing between Yoongi and Jimin. “I, um, I don’t even…”

Taehyung and Seokjin trail behind the other three with furrowed eyebrows. Seokjin is frowning at a text message from his landlord complaining that his mailbox is filling up from being away from home for so long. Taehyung is frowning at how Yoongi’s large hand curls around Jungkook’s bare shoulder exposed by his sleeveless tank shirt.

“Our little Kookoo-yah isn’t good with words sometimes,” Jimin says with a giggle, the softest thing about him other than the glee in his eyes.

Jungkook laughs softly, ducking his head. Yoongi doesn’t know that Jungkook doesn’t like being touched by strangers. Taehyung knows, though.

“It’s really kind of you,” Jungkook finally says once Yoongi lets him go.

Yoongi shrugs, so nonchalant, like he’s offering anything less than a professional studio Black Swan could never afford. They practice in Seokjin’s garage and rent out a recording room downtown once they’ve got the money saved up—but only until they’re done.

“I saw how you all perform,” Yoongi continues. “You’ve got something people need these days. I’d be fucking stupid not to help you out.”

Even Seokjin expresses his gratitude, shaking Yoongi’s hand once they reach the parking lot. The Emo Mobile looks like Shrek parked next to Yoongi’s Prince Charming of a Mercedes.

“Have safe travels back to the city. I’ll see you around.”

Yoongi bows his head, a gesture that’s quick and sharp. He doesn’t offer Taehyung his hand, just smiles like he knows Taehyung wouldn’t shake it and doesn’t care either way.

“That whole experience was kind of fucking crazy, if you think about it,” Seokjin says once the band is in the van and Yoongi is long gone. “Really fucking weird, but in a good way, I guess.”

“Weird? Are you kidding? Agust D thinks we’re hot shit!” Jimin screeches just loud enough in a confined space to give Taehyung an immediate piercing headache.

Seokjin hits the curb when he pulls out of the parking lot, jostling Taehyung in the passenger seat. It makes Taehyung realize he hasn’t put his seatbelt on yet, too busy staring out the window at himself in the side-view mirror.

“It’s definitely weird,” Taehyung says after Jimin finishes gushing about how cool and smart Yoongi is. “Why the fuck does he care what we’re doing?”

Seokjin gives Taehyung a sideways glance, just long enough to jut his chin in an upward nod, before he focuses on the road again. Taehyung doesn’t get why Seokjin won’t back him up. Seokjin is the unofficial leader; he should do something.

Annoyed, Taehyung turns toward the window again. He props his head up by resting his elbow on the window and holding his chin in his hand. The summer heat ruffles his bangs like hot breath blown across his face, winning against the tired blow of the Emo Mobile’s air conditioning.

“And, oh my god, he was so fucking hot,” Jimin gushes. “That long orange hair…”

From the back of the van, Jimin and Jungkook talk amongst themselves, accepting that Seokjin and Taehyung aren’t going to match their level of enthusiasm.

“It was different seeing him in person, definitely,” Jungkook says with a small laugh.

Seokjin taps Taehyung on the shoulder with the aux cord without looking away from the road. Nodding, Taehyung pulls his phone from his back pocket and turns up the volume on the radio.

#

Taehyung isn’t a jealous person. He doesn’t care enough about what other people do to get jealous, and most people who know him would easily confirm that his ego is so big that it’s unlikely he even has the capacity to get jealous. So when Jimin asks Taehyung if he’s jealous after he learns Jungkook has been texting Yoongi ever since they met for brunch, Taehyung laughs in Jimin’s face.

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” he scoffs, staring up at Jimin from his hotel bed. They’re back to booking two rooms, but this time they each have their own bed. Luxurious, truly.

Yoongi probably never has to share a bed with anyone while on tour.

Taehyung lies horizontal across the bed with his head hanging off the side. Jimin looks funny upside down, putting makeup on in front of the floor-length mirror. Taehyung has to wait for him to finish applying mascara on his eyelashes before he can start talking again.

“You were being a dick the whole time we were hanging out.” Jimin points the mascara wand in Taehyung’s direction and sighs when he realizes Taehyung is back to scrolling on his phone.

“That’s just how I am.”

Jimin snorts. “Yeah, okay. You got me there!” Only Jimin can sarcastically do jazz hands in Taehyung’s direction and make him feel just a little regretful.

“You and Jungkook were up his ass for no reason,” Taehyung says as he rolls over onto his stomach. “Like what does he know about us, to be giving us all this advice and making all these assumptions? He doesn’t know jack shit.”

Meeting Taehyung’s eyes through the mirror, Jimin gives him a deadpan stare. “That is literally just what being nice is, Kim Taehyung. I know you wouldn’t understand.”

When Taehyung throws up a middle finger, Jimin sends one right back through the mirror. “Exhibit A!”

Taehyung knows Jimin is right, deep down inside. He knows he’s jealous, but not because of Jungkook. Of course not. He’s jealous of how easily Agust D has it, and how easily he swept in and charmed two of his bandmates. That’s it.

“When are you leaving?” Taehyung asks as he scours Twitter for Spine Breaker Fest reactions and content. Taehyung ruffles his bangs into his eyes. He needs to ask Jimin to trim them. “And why are you even in here? Why aren’t you getting ready in your room?”

The lighting in the hotel room isn’t great, tinting everything with a sickly yellow hue rather than the cold white Taehyung would see better in. So when a soft pink blush blooms across Jimin’s cheeks, Taehyung can’t tell if it’s really there or if the lighting is playing with his eyesight.

“Hyung is busy talking to Jungkook,” Jimin says. Taehyung waits for him to explain further, but Jimin’s lips form a pretty circle as he applies a pale pink gloss.

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows. “Talking about what?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’m not responsible for what Seokjin hyung does.”

With a quiet, “Okay”, Taehyung continues scrolling through Twitter, sufficiently deterred by Jimin’s use of Seokjin’s real name. No Jin or Jinnie hyung in sight. Whatever’s got the two of them pissed at each other is none of Taehyung’s business. He’s not even going out with them tonight. As much as Taehyung loves hanging out with Hoseok and Namjoon, he knows spending their last night in town drinking before they start the long journey back home isn’t a great idea.

A few weeks ago, Taehyung would have been pouring shots for everyone in the hotel room’s little kitchenette. Tonight, he’s waiting in his swim trunks for his bandmates to leave. Another night suffocating the itch in his chest with hot tub steam and muggy summer air will do him some good.

Or so Taehyung thinks until the door beeps open and Jungkook enters with glassy red eyes and pink cheeks. Taehyung sits up fast enough that he sees black spots in his vision. They speckle the room, blocking out Jimin’s look of concern in the mirror and Jungkook rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, watching Jungkook slip past Jimin to grab his duffel bag on the other side of the room.

“Nothing,” Jungkook says with his chin ducked against his chest as he digs inside his bag. When Jungkook pulls out his own pair of swim trunks, Taehyung’s stomach flips.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jimin drops his black eyeshadow in his makeup bag. Despite the pink lip gloss, his outfit is as punk as ever, an all-black collection of straps, chains, and mesh. It’s admirable how done-up Jimin gets and how seriously he takes social gatherings when he knows they’re opportunities to market Black Swan.

Without Jungkook at Hoseok and Namjoon’s party, though, it won’t be the same. Seokjin doesn’t know how to use TikTok properly or schmooze with people the way Jungkook does. They’re learned skills, nothing Jungkook particularly enjoys, but he performs well.

And without Taehyung, there’s no sex appeal—no offense to Jimin or Seokjin. It’s just obvious that they aren’t in it for the pleasure they could get. Sometimes it pisses Taehyung off. He feels like the delinquent of the group in more ways than one. Why is he the odd one out? They’re in the business of drugs, sex, and rock ‘n roll, aren’t they? But the moment Taehyung acts on it, he’s suddenly the bad guy.

“You know I hate parties,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his swim trunks on the bed. “We have a really long drive home the next few days, and we’re leaving early in the morning. You and Jin hyung are gonna be hungover and Taehyungie isn’t good at waking up, so I’ll have to drive.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong, even though Taehyung hates when the guys bring up his little “sleepy jazz incident” behind the wheel. Early starts during a road trip suck.

“That’s fair,” Jimin concedes, though he doesn’t seem happy with Jungkook’s decision. It doesn’t matter; no one would dare make the maknae do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Still, Jimin gives Taehyung a stern look once Jungkook disappears into the bathroom to change. Taehyung glares at him right back. There’s nothing behind the mean look but confusion.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Taehyung says, voice hushed in case Jungkook hears them above the hum of the air conditioning.

“I’m not…” Jimin fidgets with the chain hanging from his belt loops. “I didn’t mean to imply you said anything.”

Taehyung wants to press Jimin, force him to let out whatever weird shit is going on with Jungkook the past few days. It has to be Yoongi’s fault; Taehyung is sure of it. Who else could’ve said something to make Jungkook upset?

But then Jungkook is back. Taehyung tries not to focus on Jungkook’s bare chest and the ridges of his abdomen, instead keeping his gaze on Jungkook’s pretty doe eyes still slightly puffy.

“Are you cool with me going to the hot tub with you?” Jungkook watches Taehyung like he’s waiting for rejection.

As if Taehyung could ever tell Jungkook no.

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”

Gathering up his makeup bag, Jimin leans against the dresser with the bag hugged against his chest and watches Taehyung and Jungkook. “I’m gonna talk to hyung, see if he’s ready,” he says while Jungkook shoves his balled up clothes in his duffel bag. “I’ll let you know once we leave.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says softly. “I hope you guys have fun.” He exchanges small smiles with Jimin with a gentleness Taehyung could only wish he possessed.

Taehyung leaves his phone on the bed, not interested in being burdened with it. This is his new ritual, apparently. It seems every other night he skips out on the parties, instead searching for solitude. He’s gotten lucky; so far, he’s visited the hotel hot tubs when there’s no one else around.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks.  

“Always am.”

Jungkook’s grin makes Taehyung’s stomach flip. “Shut the fuck up, hyung.”

Make me, is what Taehyung wants to say. He bites his tongue instead and wonders what has gotten into him.

The sign nailed to the gate surrounding the outdoor pool notifies Taehyung and Jungkook that the pool and hot tub hours have long since ended. It’s around ten o’clock at night, and the facilities are outside. Jungkook clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth when Taehyung taps his hotel keycard against the gate’s electronic lock.

Taehyung grins smugly when the gate opens with a beep and a flash of green light.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Taehyung asks as he holds open the gate for Jungkook to pass through. “An employee will see us out here and make us leave.”

“They could kick us out of our room.”

Jungkook’s point is far-fetched in Taehyung’s opinion. He gives Jungkook a look, head tilted to one side, and his lips pursed. Either way, it doesn’t matter; Jungkook follows Taehyung past the large, in-ground pool to the hot tub on the far corner of the recreation area.

The hot tub is a lot fancier than Taehyung expected. It’s also in-ground, with decorative rocks and healthy foliage surrounding it to give it a secluded, tropical feel, like a hot spring. Taehyung takes the few steps that lead him into the hot tub while Jungkook turns it on. The bubbles rumble to life and the water’s temperature increases.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” Taehyung groans. He sinks until the water reaches past his collarbones.

Jungkook laughs and sits on the shelf lining the inner perimeter of the hot tub to serve as seats. The water only goes up to his chest, which is already flushing light pink from the heat. Taehyung keeps his eyes on Jungkook’s face.

“Tense?” Jungkook asks.

There are so many ways Taehyung could answer the one-word question. It bothers him because it shouldn’t be difficult. The answer is so obvious, so straightforward.

“Yeah,” Taehyung takes a deep breath and remembers that hot tubs always make his chest feel tight, “mostly my wrists and biceps. The vibrating impact of the drums really gets to me sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine performing like that so much,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I feel bad. All I have to do is stand there.”

“You do more than just stand there,” Taehyung counters. “You get the crowd hyped, you fucking sing, Koo. Most people can’t sing like you. I know that takes a lot out of you.”

Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s getting so defensive over this. Maybe it’s because the steam of the hot tub and the thick summer air are making it hard for him to breathe. He moves to sit on the inner shelf like Jungkook, the water at his chest, and inhales until his lungs burn.

“Stop selling yourself short all the time,” he continues when Jungkook says nothing.

They stare at each other from across the hot tub. It isn’t big; Taehyung could reach Jungkook if he stuck his leg out and kicked him. He kind of wants to, for some reason. But the hot tub still gives them enough space to spread out. It’s good. They’re sitting close enough.

After a while, Jungkook snorts. He shakes his head slowly, eyes gliding from Taehyung’s face to stare off into the trees that line the perimeter of the property, hiding it away from the world around it. Taehyung thinks he’d like to be hidden, too.

“You have a really weird way of expressing affection. Do you know that, hyung?”

Taehyung sticks out his arms and flexes his wrists beneath the bubbling water. He forgot to take off his bracelets.

“Yeah. I know.”

Blood rushes in waves against Taehyung’s eardrums as Jungkook slips further into the water. He watches with silent, shallow breaths as Jungkook moves toward him, the water lapping at his chest.

Taehyung is just overheating from the hot tub.

“Want me to give you a massage?” Jungkook’s soft words get swept up by the roaring in Taehyung’s ears.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Taehyung rubs his hands together under the water and uses the moisture to slick his hair back.

Jungkook grins with the scrunched nose expression that makes Taehyung cave every time. It’s funny how Taehyung thinks he will do anything for Jungkook and the whole band, but the real things they want from him aren’t anything he wants to sacrifice his interests for. It makes sense in his head; he can’t be everything, but he can try. Just not right now.

The problem is, he thinks he doesn’t understand what Jungkook wants.

When Jungkook takes Taehyung’s hand in his own and begins massaging it, Taehyung lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. Jungkook kneads the meaty part of Taehyung’s palm, just below his thumb. His muscles are sore and fatigued, but the pressure feels good.

“It’s the grip of the drumsticks that get me,” Taehyung speaks above the rush of blood in his head, even as it drains lower. “I think I’m gonna use my cut of the check to get a real massage.”

“Am I not good enough for you?”

Taehyung’s eyes are still closed, but he can hear the teasing tone in Jungkook’s voice. The question makes him feel bad anyway. “Koo, don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

Taehyung squirms slightly when Jungkook tugs on his fingers, releasing the tension within his joints. There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t. His chest is still tight, and he still can’t look at Jungkook, even though when his eyes are closed, all he sees is Jungkook’s beautiful face.

Letting out a soft sigh, Jungkook shifts closer to Taehyung. His touch is soft, though powerful. Taehyung considers how true that is of Jungkook as a person.

“Talk to me, Tae,” he sounds patient, but it’s the kind of patience that’s barely keeping exasperation at bay, despite being rooted in it.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Taehyung knows, but he needs Jungkook to start it. He wants to be the band’s protector, but the truth is that he isn’t brave. Jungkook was right; Taehyung runs.

Jungkook keeps Taehyung’s arm underwater as he moves on to massage his wrist. The warmth of the water and Jungkook’s soft, gentle hands feel so good. Taehyung still doesn’t open his eyes; he just basks in the unusual attention. He lets out a low groan when Jungkook’s hands eventually glide upward, thumbs digging into the tense muscles of his forearm. The closer he gets to Taehyung’s bicep, the more tingly Taehyung’s body feels. He tries to keep quiet, but Jungkook plays him like he knows exactly where to press and rub to make Taehyung feel like jelly under his touch.

Why is it making Taehyung hard?

Maybe it’s because of how intimate the sensations are, being rubbed down while smooth and wet, with the warmth of the hot tub’s bubbly water lapping at his body with each of Jungkook’s movements. Perhaps it’s because Jungkook’s leg presses against Taehyung’s. Or it’s because how Jungkook holds Taehyung’s arm makes his hand rest on the top of his bare thigh.

Maybe it’s none of those things.

“Please look at me,” Jungkook asks in a tone that makes Taehyung’s stomach drop.

Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed light pink, matching his pretty lips, the bottom one pulled in by his teeth. His bangs are messy from the humidity the hot tub creates. They stick to his forehead in waves that complement the wolf cut he still hasn’t asked Jimin to get rid of. Taehyung shivers despite the warm water jets.

“Yeah?” Taehyung forces himself to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” The look on Jungkook’s face makes Taehyung’s chest crack.

Taehyung’s heart jumps into his throat. He licks his lips, gaze dropping to Jungkook’s. God, he wants to say it. He wants to, so badly, to dig inside the rot that’s in his chest and grab hold of the brave part of himself buried away. It must be there.

“Fuck.” Taehyung smooths his hair back with the hand Jungkook isn’t holding. He shakes his head and lets out a dark laugh, something tainted with disbelief.

“Tae?”

“What are we doing?” Taehyung’s voice is a hoarse whisper.

Jungkook’s tongue finds his lip piercing, then the inside of his cheek. All pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, he’s so endearing, so warm, so hot. Taehyung feels like he can’t breathe.

“Releasing pent-up tension?” Jungkook says with a rare smirk that makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.

Of course Jungkook would bring up that excuse again. Taehyung chuckles, his head tilting towards the sky as he chases a sudden breeze. When he faces Jungkook again, he watches him with a mixture of amusement and affection.

“You got jokes, huh?”

“I thought you’d probably need a laugh. You’ve been so fucking pouty ever since we hung out with Yoongi.”

“Shut up.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but Jungkook’s hand tightens around his bicep to keep him from shoving him away. “I haven’t been pouting. Jimin put that idea in your head, didn’t he?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook grins and bites his bottom lip.

“Not very punk of him to lie on his best friend like that,” Taehyung says, hardly knowing what’s coming out of his mouth.

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know. I kinda thought it was cute, you being all… protective.”

When Jungkook tugs Taehyung’s arm, the pressure is slight, yet Taehyung follows like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.

“You know I don’t need it though, right?” Jungkook slides his hand up Taehyung’s bicep until he reaches his shoulder. His palm leaves goosebumps in its wake, making Taehyung’s skin tingle.

A sudden rush of warmth spreads from Taehyung’s groin upward, flooding his body as Jungkook grabs his shoulder to push him back against the wall of the hot tub. He inhales deeply and tries to blink away the sudden dizziness he feels.

“Need what?” he asks, and Jungkook giggles. It’s a sweet sound that doesn’t match the sensual slide of Jungkook’s arm around Taehyung shoulders. It takes all of Taehyung’s energy to focus on what Jungkook is saying and not only on his lips.

“Protection” — Jungkook’s tongue plays with his lip piercing — “because I can take care of myself.”

“Uh huh,” Taehyung nods through the throbbing of his cock and the fluttering in his chest. “Yeah, Koo.”

Jungkook tucks a strand of damp hair behind his ear. So coy, so deceiving. Taehyung can practically taste his words when Jungkook leans in and says, “You’re so hot when you get like this.”

Taehyung has no idea what “like this” means. It doesn’t matter.

Brave isn’t a word Taehyung would use to describe himself. But despite his nerves, he swallows his heart and leans in to capture Jungkook’s mouth, not waiting to be asked.

Any of Jungkook’s pleas are silenced with a bite of his bottom lip. Taehyung carefully avoids Jungkook’s piercing when he tugs on his lip with a low groan, sucking it into his mouth, and remembers he really fucking enjoys kissing Jungkook. He doesn’t care that Jungkook tastes like chlorine.

Jungkook follows the glide of Taehyung’s lips, and every one of his whimpers and sighs reverberates through Taehyung’s body. The heavy burden of fear blanketing Taehyung’s heart lifts as Jungkook climbs into his lap. Rather than drown, he feels anchored by the weight of Jungkook’s body. His hands find Jungkook’s waist to guide him as Jungkook straddles him. It must not be comfortable for Jungkook to have his knees pressed into the shelf around the hot tub’s inner walls so he can bracket Taehyung’s thighs, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re already hard,” Jungkook murmurs against Taehyung’s swollen lips. The question sounds mocking, but Jungkook gives Taehyung a soft, adoring look when he leans back.

Is Jungkook actually asking him this question? Like as if he doesn’t already know exactly what kind of mess he turns Taehyung into?

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice comes out thick and gravelly. “I’ve been hard ever since you started giving me a massage.” His lips quirk faintly despite the heat surging through his body. “Is... is that a bad thing?”

Taehyung licks chlorine from his lips and keeps them parted as Jungkook wiggles his ass right on top of his cock. His breathing comes out ragged and loud enough to be heard over the hot tub’s bubbling jets.

Water splashes between them as Jungkook rolls his hips to grind against Taehyung. Their bodies slide with ease, slippery, wet, and hot. When Taehyung lets out a low moan, Jungkook smiles. “No, it’s not a bad thing.”

Having Jungkook’s weight in his lap feels good. More than good—it feels grounding. He chases the challenge of coaxing out Jungkook’s moans, just to feel the way Jungkook’s body tenses and trembles in response. Yet Jungkook beats him at his own game.

Jungkook digs his fingers in Taehyung’s hair, tugging on the wet strands and forcing Taehyung’s head whichever way he wants. Taehyung gasps as Jungkook’s teeth playfully drag along his bottom lip, catching it just long enough to suck before he dives back in even messier.

But then Taehyung breaks away, tipping his head back and sucking in the summer air. The reprieve of sparkling stars and a moment to breathe is short-lived. Jungkook’s mouth latches onto his throat with enough force that Taehyung knows the skin will bloom with a deep bruise. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling and lapping up water and sweat, making Taehyung’s skin pebble with pleasure.

“Tae.” The breathlessness of Jungkook's voice goes straight to Taehyung’s cock, twitching and straining painfully against his swim trunks, trapped under Jungkook’s weight.

“Koo,” Taehyung groans, “you said we gotta talk.”

“Oh, now you want to?” Jungkook murmurs against the curve of Taehyung’s ear. His breath is hot, teasing. “About what?” He flicks Taehyung’s earlobe with the tip of his tongue, drawing a sharp gasp from Taehyung. “About how badly I wish I could have you?”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. “Have me?” he asks through a shaky sigh, barely holding himself together as Jungkook’s lips close around his earlobe, nibbling it gently.

Fuck, Jungkook’s mouth.

“Yeah, have you” — Jungkook grinds down harder — “inside me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung hisses, his hips jerking upward.

Desire burns Taehyung so severely, searing him from the inside while the hot tub and Jungkook’s body heat boil him on the outside. He’s panting so hard he feels like he might pass out, not to mention how terribly his heart pounds in his chest. He keeps reminding himself, this is Jungkook. And, yeah, it is. That’s why Taehyung is so fucking hard.

“I can make you feel good,” Jungkook promises, just like he had when he swallowed Taehyung all the way to the base.

Jungkook isn’t one to break promises. Taehyung isn’t one to tell him no.

It’s desperate how they grind against each other, Jungkook bucking against Taehyung with enough force that their swim trunks ride up their thighs. The jets have long since shut off, bubbles dying down; Jungkook and Taehyung make their own waves with the slap of skin splashing water around their bodies.

Each roll of Jungkook’s hips drags his ass along the length of Taehyung’s cock. Taehyung is fully hard now, clearly outlined by the thin, clingy material of his swim trunks. He can feel it slide between Jungkook’s ass cheeks. It’s maddening, pure torture, especially when Jungkook grinds down harder on the head of his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive spot.

“Touch me, Tae,” Jungkook moans into his ear.

It’s not a plea this time—it’s a command, one Taehyung couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. His hands slide down from Jungkook’s waist until they cup the curve of his ass. He squeezes a few times, admiring how firm the muscles are, how perfectly Jungkook fits in his palms like he was meant to.

Jungkook lets out a rough groan, his head falling forward onto Taehyung’s shoulder as Taehyung guides his movements, drawing them out. Each rut is deliberate now—slow, steady, dragging Jungkook’s ass from the tip of Taehyung’s cock to the base in lazy, torturous thrusts. Jungkook curls his arms around Taehyung’s neck and pulls their bodies flush together as he captures Taehyung’s mouth once again, moaning into him when one of Taehyung’s hands slides down the back of his swim trunks.

Taehyung keeps a hand firmly on Jungkook’s ass, pulling one cheek back so he can wiggle his other hand further down his shorts. “Tell me what you like,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s lips. His fingers only tremble slightly when he ghosts them over Jungkook’s hole. He's making a huge assumption about what exactly it is that Jungkook does like, but Jungkook's reaction tells him that maybe sometimes trusting his gut isn't the worst fucking thing in the world to do.

“That’s, wow—” Jungkook ducks his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. His breath comes out in ragged bursts. “It feels so weird being on the receiving end of you talking like that.”

“Yeah? That mean you’re into it?” Taehyung smirks despite the frantic pounding of his heart. They’re crossing a line that there’s no coming back from, and Taehyung doesn’t care—not anymore.

Jungkook angles his hips to push back against Taehyung’s fingers. “Don’t tease me,” Jungkook scolds rather than begs. “Keep going.”

Maybe it’s surprising to some, but Taehyung has never tried anal before. He never saw the point; pussy is right there, and none of the girls he has been with had ever asked for it. So he doesn’t know shit about how wet Jungkook needs to be or if the warm water is enough to make it pleasurable for Jungkook when he pushes a finger inside.

“Fuck,” Taehyung exhales sharply, pulling his finger out to ease it back in again. “It’s so—”

“Warm, tight.”

Taehyung nods because he’s afraid of what sound might come out if he attempts to speak. His body shudders as Jungkook instructs him to add a second finger. He closes his eyes and imagines how good that initial tightness would feel around his cock, the pop of his tip through the ring of muscles. And then to be enveloped in the soft warmth that comes next. It’s different from what Taehyung has experienced before, but he thinks he’ll like it, especially because Jungkook is already moaning in his ear and he’s only using his fingers.

It’s just so fucking crazy, ending up here with Jungkook in his arms, his moist, warm breath mixing with the sweat beading down Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung hates sweating, but he can’t imagine leaving the hot tub, wants to spend eternity letting the pads of his fingers prune and his lungs struggle to breathe. It’s like the night on the dancefloor all over again, Taehyung hiding behind the shield of Jungkook’s body, chasing his heat to melt the insecurities that have formed a hard shell around him.

Not that Taehyung is smart enough to understand this about himself. Right now, he’s too focused on hesitantly crooking his fingers to feel Jungkook’s soft walls. Jungkook is nowhere near being delicate, but he feels like he is, at least here, in the part of himself Taehyung has never gotten to know. The longer Taehyung thinks about it, the more his fingers tremble.

“Are you okay, Tae?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to look at Taehyung. Jungkook sitting up forces Taehyung’s fingers out of him.

Shit, is Taehyung okay? Yeah, he’s totally fine. It’s not like he’s experiencing an entirely unknown part of his sexuality right now. It’s not like he’s doing exactly what he was afraid of doing, what his parents would despise him for, what he thinks he might have needed to do his whole life—or, at least for as long as he has known Jungkook. If this was anyone else, Taehyung isn’t sure he’d be okay with what’s happening. And honestly, he isn’t interested in finding out.

For some reason, it feels like it was always Jungkook. He deserves good things, doesn’t he? The real question is whether Taehyung is a good thing.

“I’m, uh—”

The beep of the pool gate blocks Taehyung’s words from tumbling out of him. They get locked in his throat, closed off while the gate clicks open and two voices carry over the still air. Taehyung isn’t brave enough to turn around. Instead, he watches Jungkook’s face as the two voices get closer.

There’s this little mole right under Jungkook’s bottom lip, in the middle of his chin. People rarely notice it. But when they do, it’s something to gush over, a cute little secret for the most observant people to unearth. Not like Taehyung, whose little freckles and imperfections are clear as day. Even the small scar along Jungkook’s cheek has a certain charm to it. It’s a reminder that there are things about Jungkook that Taehyung doesn’t know. What nervous tick did Jungkook have before he got his lip piercing? Did he run his tongue along the inside of his cheek? Still trace the curve of his bottom lip? Whatever it was, Taehyung is sure it would have made his stomach drop just the same.

“I think they’re coming over here,” Jungkook whispers, eyes still tracking the people walking through the recreation area.

If Jungkook was one of Taehyung’s groupies, he probably would have joked about putting on a show for whoever the guests are.

But Jungkook is Jungkook, and Taehyung is too afraid of making this real.

Taehyung drops his arms to his sides and squirms underneath Jungkook. “Let’s go back to our room,” he says. His words could sound like a proposition, but he says them in a breathy plea that makes Jungkook frown.

Even though Jungkook immediately gets up, they’re too late. The other hotel guests reach the hot tub right as Taehyung steps out of the water.

The old couple’s eyes ping-pong between Taehyung and Jungkook’s heated skin, reddened lips, and the blatant erections bulging their swim trunks.

“We’re leaving.” Jungkook snatches their towels from the small table beside the hot tub, tossing one to Taehyung before wrapping the other around his waist. Taehyung nearly misses the catch and the bottom half of his towel dips into the water.

“Fuck me,” Taehyung curses, not caring that the woman looks absolutely scandalized and his colorful language is probably making the situation worse.

It doesn’t matter; Jungkook is already booking it out of there, walking funny because he’s trying to hide his crotch. The poor kid has it way worse than Taehyung, who is wearing compression shorts under his swim trunks. The struggle of having a big dick, Taehyung figures. Swimwear is too revealing, the thin material always clinging around the crotch. Compression shorts make his dick print less obvious, but they also make it more painful when he gets hard in them.

At least Taehyung can walk normally. For as confident as Jungkook was back in the hot tub, he curls inward once they cross the threshold into the hotel. He waddles down the hall toward the elevators, his wet flip-flops squeaking against the tile floor.

Taehyung follows close behind him, nearly slipping in the puddle Jungkook creates while he waits for the elevator.

“You don’t gotta press the button so many times,” Taehyung teases.

Jungkook jams his index finger into the UP button and narrows his eyes at Taehyung. “You’re the one who wanted to get back to our room so bad.”

It’s definitely a dig, though Taehyung doesn’t understand why. He knows neither of them want some old people staring at them while Taehyung fingers Jungkook in the fucking hot tub. Holy shit.

“Koo,” Taehyung says with an exasperated sigh, “everyone can see.” You, Taehyung’s brain adds internally, and he doesn’t have time to wonder why he’s suddenly more worried about people ogling Jungkook in such a vulnerable position than himself.

Before understanding can click in his head, the elevator dings open and the last two people Taehyung wants to see step out.

“Oh, Jungkookie! Tae! We were calling you, but you both left your phones in the room.” Jimin does a little dance in the threshold, a side-to-side step that prevents the elevator doors from closing on them. Based on the light pink flush of his cheeks, Taehyung knows Jimin decided to pregame with Seokjin before leaving for the party.

Seokjin prefers to nurse a drink throughout the night, so his sober eyes stare at Taehyung with frightening clarity.

“Not interested in the hot tub anymore?” Seokjin asks.

Taehyung shrugs while Jungkook shakes his head, his frizzy bangs swaying across his forehead.

“Too hot.”

“And crowded.”

Jimin babbles about how pointless pool rules are when guests eagerly break them. No one is listening to him, but he doesn’t know that.

“Well,” Seokjin says, ushering Jimin out of the way and holding out his arm to stop the elevator doors, “answer your phones next time we call you.” 

They don’t answer their phones.

Fic Masterlist

A/N: taehyung, hiding his face: i think i like boys.

Because Taehyung is pretty sure they're gonna do it, and he's acting like a virgin about it.

The thing is, every band has a designated sex symbol. People might argue that Black Swan has four, as long as Seokjin isn't wearing his suburban dad ensemble. (Or, maybe, when he is.) Regardless, sex sells, and Taehyung is the band-appointed merchant. They toss him up front on stage when the crowd is dying. They steer him toward the girls during meet-and-greets and afterparties. They may flaunt Jungkook on their socials—he's got the rockstar look, long, messy hair, tattoos, washboard abs, dark stare—but Taehyung knows how to pimp out in real life. He knows how to half-smirk and look bored in the kind of way girls scramble after, hoping they'll be different, that they'll be the ones to capture his attention.

It's easy. Taehyung could do it in his sleep.

And then there's Jungkook.

Sweet, beautiful, perfect Jungkook. Impossible Jungkook. Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. Taehyung's brain skips, a rock fighting not to drown in the ocean, a broken record. Jungkook, who kisses him, warm and wet, the suck of his tongue and bottom lip louder than the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. His tattooed hand slides from the side of Taehyung's face to dig into his frizzy hair. Taehyung follows wherever Jungkook's grip takes him. Tilted to the left, noses bumping together. They share exhales, panting into each other's mouths when their lungs burn as hot as their arousal, pooling low.

“How much pent-up energy do you have left?” Jungkook asks as he chases Taehyung’s mouth whenever Taehyung tries to bend over. He needs to wiggle his shorts further down his legs.

“Jungkook-ah” — Taehyung’s mouth parts in a slow smile that presses his teeth to Jungkook’s lips — “that’s not fucking funny anymore.”

A shudder runs through Taehyung when he kicks his shorts away and finally feels Jungkook’s naked body against his. Shockingly, the world doesn't end.

“Just answer the question,” Jungkook insists between kisses, “so I can know how much you’re willing to put up with.” 

Taehyung jerks away from him with a deep frown, forcing Jungkook to drop his hands to his sides. “The fuck does that mean?”

The AC unit hums in the silence of their hotel room, making Taehyung’s body shiver with goosebumps. The heat that climbs across his face isn’t from the temperature. He doesn't even get the chance to process that he and Jungkook are standing in front of each other, as exposed and vulnerable as they could ever be.

Jungkook’s wide eyes search Taehyung’s face. “You…” 

“I what?” Taehyung doesn’t mean to snap, he’s just scared. 

There it is—he admitted it to himself. He’s fucking terrified, of Jungkook, of what they’re doing, about to do, of fucking up because Taehyung has always been a fuck-up. No matter how good things are going, he manages to ruin them. There aren’t many things Taehyung can be sure of in life, but he knows without a doubt that he can’t afford to lose Jungkook. He’s already on thin fucking ice.

Ducking his chin, Jungkook takes a deep breath. When he looks back up, his eyes are watery.

Taehyung’s stomach drops. He watches Jungkook sit on the edge of the bed and can't understand how physically ill he feels when the distance between them grows.

“Koo…”

“You don’t even like men, Taehyung. And, yeah” — Jungkook pauses to take a shuddery breath — “I said I wanted this, but it’s just really hard when I know you’re only going to fuck me because you feel sorry for me, even though it makes you uncomfortable. And I didn’t realize” — he blinks up at the ceiling — “that it was going to hurt this bad, okay?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung speaks slowly, with a frown he can’t shake. “What do you mean, I feel sorry for you?”

“I told you how I’m not like you… that first time, when we were together. I have to… I can, I can only feel this way with friends. I have to force it with strangers, and it’s really shitty. And you said you’d give me whatever I needed, but this was a bad idea.” 

Fuck.

It was the night they watched porn together, jerking off like it was the most normal thing to do with a best friend. Like it wouldn't completely alter the rest of their lives—or, at least, Taehyung's. Taehyung replays the conversation in his head, searching for the part, the part he missed, the part Taehyung couldn't understand because he was so caught up on how Jungkook sounds when he comes, and how Jungkook looks with his head thrown back, the long column of his throat on display.

"I’m not like you… I can’t just fuck someone. But hiding to go jack off alone in the bathroom every time I crave intimacy is really pathetic..."

That was the part Taehyung had missed.

"I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I got you, you know that. I got you…"

What Taehyung had said was true then, and it's true now. He would do anything for Jungkook. Everything. He already has, right? How long has it been since he's had something to drink? Rather than alcohol, Taehyung swallows, and it's Jungkook he tastes on his tongue these days. He finds he craves that more than the strongest drink.

He just never told Jungkook.

"God, I'm such a fucking idiot." Taehyung laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be here, doing this, if I didn’t want to,” he admits with a slow exhale.

And it's true. It's so true it hurts because there's a part of Taehyung that doesn't want it to be true. Life would be so much easier if he could look Jungkook in the eyes and tell him that his chest doesn't tighten when Jungkook smiles at him, or his stomach doesn't drop when Jungkook cries, or his mind doesn't run away at night with the sound of Jungkook's moans while he's trying to sleep.

Taehyung's pulse pounds in his throat as he kneels on the edge of the bed between Jungkook’s legs because he knows it's where he belongs.

Jungkook scoots back, giving Taehyung space, but his gaze never wavers—starry-eyed even though they’re no longer beneath the night sky. He watches Taehyung with eyes that could make even the most grounded person feel like they’re floating. It’s almost too much. 

“You swear?” Jungkook asks as his fingertips skirt across Taehyung’s bare hip. 

“Like a fuckin’ sailor, yeah.” Taehyung grins, his cockiness a deceit they both recognize. He doesn’t even try to dodge the pinch Jungkook gives his side. 

“You have a really weird way of expressing affection,” Jungkook had told him. 

Taehyung presses forward, nudging Jungkook down until he’s flat on his back, the heaviness of Taehyung's body blanketing him—not the weight of the world bearing down on them. And when Taehyung kisses him—harder than before—he thinks his way of showing affection isn’t so bad.

“You don’t like men, though.”

Jungkook won’t let it go. He whispers against Taehyung's lips, stealing the air from his lungs just to punch what’s left out of his chest with those words.

Taehyung lets his head hang and squeezes his eyes shut. But the storm inside him quiets when Jungkook combs his fingers through Taehyung's hair.

“I don’t know..." Taehyung whispers.

Jungkook's fingertips trace Taehyung's cheeks, his nose, down to the bow of his lips. When they skim over his mouth, Taehyung kisses them.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, pressing his fingers to the underside of Taehyung’s chin.

Taehyung finally lifts his head to lock eyes with Jungkook. His unruly hair is fanned out beneath him, damp strands curling at the ends as they dry. How long has it been since they got back from the hot tub? How long until Jungkook's patience for Taehyung runs out?

“I just don’t want to force you to—”

Taehyung kisses him before he can finish.

It doesn’t matter. It shouldn't matter. Taehyung doesn't want it to matter. If he thinks too hard about this, he'll psych himself out. It's just sex, just casual sex; that's the mantra he repeats to himself as he opens his mouth to let Jungkook's tongue slide against his. Taehyung is great at sex. Amazing, actually. The best. Big Dick Kim Taehyung. He knows how to use it.

None of this matters.

But then Jungkook lets out a content sigh between kisses, the kind that isn't quite debauched enough to be a whimper but still breathy enough to make Taehyung's body tingle. And he knows he can't keep fucking lying to himself.

Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s arm as he starts to pull away. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta get a condom,” Taehyung says, cocking his head in the direction of the dresser where they tossed their bags earlier. Super casual, cool as a motherfucking cucumber.

"Trojans?" Jungkook says the word like it's glass cutting the inside of his throat.

"Uh… yeah?"

"You're so straight, hyung."

Taehyung frowns. "Okay, so what?"

Jungkook wiggles his lip piercing with his teeth, and Taehyung tries not to be a freak about it. Instead, he waits as patiently as he can, subconsciously tapping a beat with his fingertips against the outside of Jungkook’s thighs.

“When was the last time you got tested?”

The meaning behind the question isn’t lost on Taehyung. Jungkook wants Taehyung to fuck him raw.

Taehyung’s cock jumps involuntarily, and embarrassment finally hits him full force when Jungkook laughs.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Taehyung snaps, but he’s not tough enough to cut through Jungkook’s near-hysteria.

Jungkook tosses his head back as he tries to regulate his breathing through the laughter—firm, muscular chest rising and falling. His cock is hard but well-behaved, sitting there waiting for Taehyung to get his shit together. God, Taehyung feels like he shouldn’t look at it, definitely shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help the desire that seeps through. It’s liquid hot, lava in his veins.

Taehyung’s cock kicks up again.

“Damn, hyung, are you that horny—”

“After that time I went out with Hobi and Namjoon,” Taehyung interrupts before Jungkook can embarrass him further. He averts his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the alarm clock. Wonders how long Seokjin and Jimin will be gone. “That's the last time I got tested. Just ‘cause, y’know, I hadn’t since we started the tour. But, uh, I haven’t been with anyone since.”

It was the day Taehyung returned to their rental house early in the morning, covered in hickeys that Jungkook wouldn’t stop staring at the rest of the day. The girl he’d gone home with that night was hot, probably in the top five since going on tour—not that Taehyung is counting how many girls he has slept with. They all blur together at some point. He doesn’t even remember this particular one’s name, but it doesn’t matter. The high of fucking her was real good, but Taehyung crashed hard the moment he saw Jungkook the next morning. He was sleepy-eyed, with a sad smile still somehow warm with kindness Taehyung didn’t deserve, doesn’t deserve.

“Ahh, yeah” — Jungkook sits up, making Taehyung take a step back from the bed to give him room — “I remember.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Taehyung blurts before he can stop himself, not needing to say what it is. There’s no point in explaining himself. They both already know it didn’t. Sex never means anything to Taehyung, aside from it being a means to an end.

There’s this look Jungkook gives Taehyung that he doesn’t understand. It makes him feel guilty, maybe even a little inadequate, like he has just failed a test Jungkook expected him to pass.

“For me, it was before the tour,” Jungkook says, ignoring Taehyung’s unwanted confession. “Obviously, I haven’t needed to go again since then...”

Taehyung nods, swallowing down the words he wants to say. It wasn’t that obvious. At least, not to Taehyung. But he needs to shut the fuck up.

“Okay," Taehyung says, the word slipping out on a shaky breath. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along Jungkook’s outer thighs, raising goosebumps in their wake. God, he's so sensitive.

“Okay,” he says again like he’s convincing himself. “Yeah. No condom.”

It’s been years since he fucked someone without one.

Jungkook lightly squeezes Taehyung's forearm. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs. “Come here, Tae.”

Taehyung’s cock twitches at the sound of his voice, low and alluring. His hands tremble where they rest against Jungkook’s thighs, blood roaring in his ears. He wants to push Jungkook down into the mattress and fuck him stupid—wants to ruin him, make him cry.

And that realization is fucking terrifying.

“What if I hurt you?”

It's not the question Taehyung really means to ask, but it’s something. Something is better than nothing.

Jungkook tilts his head, his hair clinging to his damp forehead and doe eyes uncharacteristically dark. But his lips quirk in amusement. "Well… you are big.”

Taehyung lets out a strangled laugh and drags his hands down his face. “Jungkook, what the fuck. That has never sounded more like an insult in my entire fucking life.”

“Shut up.” Jungkook grins. “Some positions make it harder to take big dick, okay?” He reaches up, taking one of Taehyung's hands to lace their fingers together. “Let me ride you.”

Taehyung swallows hard. His grip on Jungkook’s thighs tightens like he needs something to steady him. "Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay. That’s—uh, yeah. That’s dope.”

They dance around each other, Jungkook sliding off the bed as Taehyung crawls onto it, sitting back against the pillows. Taehyung watches Jungkook dig through his duffle bag for a small bottle of lube, and he feels pretty useless lying on top of the white starched sheets, waiting.

With girls, it's always Taehyung leading during sex—calling the shots and setting the pace. He's the one who does the seducing, who buys the condoms, who takes control. Yet here he is, brain buzzing like static, white noise making him feel fuzzy while he watches Jungkook kneel on the bed.

The mattress dips with Jungkook's weight, and the frame creaks as he crawls over Taehyung, settling in his lap. He palms the bottle of lube, rolling it in his hand and giving it a light squeeze just to watch the liquid squish in the clear plastic. His free hand slides up Taehyung’s chest, fingertips grazing over his collarbone, up the column of his throat, and the hinge of his jaw.

"You good?" Jungkook asks, dragging the question out with his fingers along Taehyung's jawline.

It’s overwhelming, the weight of Jungkook straddling his lap and looking at him like this. Like he's memorizing the pattern of his breathing and the freckles scattered across his face. Like Taehyung is something worth cherishing. He swears his heart is hammering hard enough in his chest that it could break one of his fucking ribs.

"Yes?" Taehyung says, though it comes out more like a question than an answer. He can't be fucked to feel embarrassed when Jungkook laughs under his breath.

"That didn’t sound very convincing."

Jungkook opens the cap of the lube with one hand, squeezing out a drop onto his fingers. He rubs them together absentmindedly as if this is the most normal thing for them to do right now. When his gaze flicks up to Taehyung again, his expression is soft and relaxed—patient, in a way that makes Taehyung's chest ache.

"Relax,” Jungkook murmurs, kissing the corner of Taehyung’s mouth before trailing his lips along his jaw. "I said I want you, Tae. So let me have you."

Taehyung groans, barely able to hold himself together. “Fuck, okay."

He wants to say more, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and his heart is lodged in his fucking throat. Regardless, he's afraid if he opens his mouth, something terrifying will slip out. Maybe he'll admit that he's not even convincing himself. That his confidence is virtually nonexistent. That Jungkook is so pretty, Taehyung could fucking die.

With shiny and slick fingers, Jungkook rises to his knees high enough to easily reach behind himself. And, fuck, Taehyung doesn't need a play-by-play to know what Jungkook is doing. His breathing comes out in uneven gasps, his body rocking slightly. When Jungkook shifts forward even more, his cock drags against Taehyung's, precum smearing.

"Shit, Koo." Taehyung's fingers flex, but he digs them into the sheets instead of Jungkook's tight waist.

It's hard to stay grounded when the personification of forbidden fruit is fingering himself in Taehyung's lap. Taehyung has never given a shit about buttholes, but he finds himself burning with the desire to see how Jungkook circles his rim with lubed fingers, pressing his fingers into the tight, wet heat like Taehyung had in the hot tub.

Jungkook's eyes close as he exhales slowly. He bites his bottom lip, wiggling it with his front teeth like he's concentrating. Something about the action makes Taehyung feel like he's doing it on purpose.

"You can touch me, you know." Jungkook doesn't open his eyes when he speaks.

There's a long list of shit Taehyung hates, authority being right at the top. Yet the moment Jungkook gives him permission, Taehyung reaches for him like a man possessed. His hands tremble as he slides them up Jungkook's strong thighs. The hair on his legs is sparse, but dark and so much different than the smooth skin Taehyung is accustomed to caressing during sex. He follows the curves of Jungkook's body to his hips, skipping his cock because his heart is practically in his mouth.

"You're so hot," Taehyung mumbles absentmindedly as the white noise in his head fades until all he hears is Jungkook's breathy sighs.

"Yeah?"

Taehyung hums in response, wrapping his hands around Jungkook's tiny waist.

Jungkook shivers, shifting in Taehyung’s lap, and fuck, the movement sends electricity shooting straight to Taehyung’s cock. His grip on Jungkook's waist tightens, and his body burns so hot that he feels like he's going to go insane if they don't do something.

Grabbing Taehyung's cock, Jungkook gives it a few slow strokes, slicking him up with lube. He squirts the liquid directly onto Taehyung’s cock as if he remembers how Taehyung said he likes it, wet and messy.

For a moment, their eyes lock. In the hallway, someone lets out a sharp laugh, followed by a chorus of giggles that fade into the distance as quickly as they'd appeared.

Jungkook laces his fingers with Taehyung's and holds their hands against his hip. "We don't have to do this…"

If you don't want to. Jungkook doesn't need to verbalize the rest.

Shaking his head, Taehyung trails his fingers down Jungkook's body, past his lower back, before settling at the curve of his ass. He squeezes, fingers curling inward until they almost reach his sticky rim.

A content hum is all Jungkook gives in response before he lifts himself onto his knees. With a firm grip on Taehyung's cock, he lines it up with his hole, and then he sinks back down. He lifts up again just an inch, only to sink down a few inches more. It's a back-and-forth, easing himself onto Taehyung's cock. And Taehyung? He chokes on the first drag of the head of his cock popping through Jungkook's tight rim.

Jungkook exhales shakily, adjusting, getting used to the stretch. "You feel so fucking good, Tae," he moans.

Taehyung throws his head back against the pillows. "Jesus."

Jungkook moves carefully at first, rolling his hips like he's experimenting, using Taehyung's cock however he wants. His brows furrow, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Taehyung can see the tension in his body, the way his thighs tremble as he takes him in.

Taehyung slides his hands up Jungkook’s torso to splay across his chest. His thumbs brush over Jungkook’s nipples, drawing a gasp out of him.

"So fucking tight," Taehyung grits out. "Tight, warm."

Somehow, it feels exactly like he thought it would and not at all like anything he could have imagined. His hands slip lower, gripping Jungkook’s ass, guiding him into a deeper roll of his hips.

But Jungkook won't let him. He grabs Taehyung's wrists, yanking his hands back up to his waist. "Let me do it."

"But—"

Jungkook presses his fingers to Taehyung's lips, ducking his chin with an embarrassed smile when Taehyung opens his mouth to let him slide his fingers against his tongue.

"Tae, please," Jungkook huffs, feigning annoyance.

To be perfectly honest, Taehyung's got soup for brains. He lies back and watches Jungkook ease himself into a steady rhythm of fucking himself on Taehyung's cock. Their bodies gently bounce on the mattress, springing up every time Jungkook lifts until only Taehyung's tip is inside him and drops down to the base again.

It's slow and torturous, but so fucking deep. Waves of electric lava shoot through Taehyung's veins, making his cock twitch inside of Jungkook.

Fuck, he's gonna come.

In a panic, Taehyung sits up, jostling Jungkook in his lap. He wraps his arms around his waist and holds him still for a second, face buried in his chest. 

"What? What's wrong?" Jungkook holds the back of Taehyung's head as he pants against his skin, open-mouthed and hot. Taehyung is sure he can feel each shudder that racks through his body. 

"Don't move!" Taehyung squeezes Jungkook tighter when he tries to get up and his body clenches around his cock. "Was gonna come." 

"Wow..." There's no need to see Jungkook to hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Fuck off."

Never in Taehyung's life has he almost come so quickly. Even worse, the sensation snuck up on him. One minute, he's vibing. The next, he's got that fluttery feeling in his stomach, breathing heavy, cock pulsing with this tight feeling. It's fucking embarrassing. At least Jungkook seems proud of himself for eliciting such a response from Taehyung. He giggles, tickling the back of Taehyung's neck and making it so much harder for Taehyung to calm down. 

"Let's flip," Jungkook offers once he decides to be helpful. "If you're on top, you can control your strokes."

With a nod and a deep breath, Taehyung lifts up and flips Jungkook onto his back, pleased that he manages the move without slipping out of him. This is a more natural position for Taehyung, when he isn't hitting it from the back. People act like missionary is vanilla sex, but Taehyung likes the control it gives him, even when he's doing what his partner needs to get off. A people-pleaser in the most attention whore kind of way, Taehyung loves watching his partner fall apart. 

And, if he really likes them, there's something about being able to mold himself into his partner. Like he does now, with Jungkook. Taehyung fucking whimpers into the crook of Jungkook’s neck as he thrusts deeper, slower like he's trying to hide inside the safety of Jungkook's body.

Jungkook’s hands find Taehyung's hair, twisting his fingers into the curls. "Tae" — he lets go of Taehyung to slide his hand across the sheets — "get a pillow."

Taehyung sits back, kneeling between Jungkook’s legs, the head of his cock still snug inside his ass. The hotel pillows are bodyless, but it's just enough cushion to make a difference when Taehyung slips it beneath Jungkook’s hips.

"This okay?" Taehyung asks softly, gaze sweeping over Jungkook's body. He's so beautiful like this, laid out for Taehyung.

Taehyung always thought being a man who gets fucked was some kind of surrender, an act that makes a man vulnerable, weak. And yeah, he fucking knows he shouldn't have thought that. But knowing doesn’t erase the weight of his parents’ expectations, the memories of stinging slaps and tender bruises, or the pressure to be the right thing, whatever that means. It all gets jumbled inside him, twisted into knots in his stomach and tangled with words he can't get right in his head because Taehyung runs away from the messes he makes.

So when he looks down at Jungkook, doe-eyed and open, Taehyung understands that he has never been as strong as Jungkook is right now—nothing weak about him or this.

"Yeah, this is a lot more comfortable," Jungkook says after clearing his throat. "Try to keep me tilted back, hips upward."

Nodding, Taehyung clings to Jungkook's instruction, agreeing to whatever he says despite having no idea what he's talking about. He taps his fingers along Jungkook's ribs, not a coherent thought blossoming in his brain.

Jungkook must be able to tell because he rolls his eyes with an annoyed smile. "Hyung," he scolds, "I'm trying to teach you how to hit my prostate. You've got a slight curve."

"Your what?" Taehyung blinks, forcing the unfamiliar English word through the fog in his head.

"Taehyung, my prostate." They stare at each other for a few beats until Jungkook sighs, endeared and utterly uninterested in giving Taehyung an anatomy lesson in the middle of sex. "It's basically the male g-spot."

That Taehyung understands.

"Shit, where is it? Did I hit it yet?" Taehyung adjusts his position, a little more of his cock pushing into Jungkook.

"Kind of? Whenever I ride someone, I know how to hit it. But like this, the pillow will help."

Taehyung scowls, but Jungkook kicks his side to knock the look off his face.

"Quit that shit," he says with narrowed eyes. "Like as if I haven't had to listen to you fuck other people for months."

Guilt racks through Taehyung before Jungkook even finishes. Regret is a tough pill to swallow, and Taehyung has a couple of bottles to get through.

"Imagine it's like aiming for my belly button from the inside," Jungkook continues.

Placing his palm on Jungkook's stomach, Taehyung presses down lightly as he eases his cock inside him. The pillow helps with hitting the right angle. One of Jungkook's legs twitches the harder Taehyung presses, and Jungkook lets out a quiet whine.

"Like this?" Taehyung asks, voice low, alluring.

"Mhm, just keep a rhythm" — Jungkook swallows thickly — "even if I go soft, just keep going."

Taehyung hooks Jungkook's leg over his shoulder, the one that's still. The twitchy one Taehyung grabs by the back of the thigh and presses up and outward, opening Jungkook to give himself more room as he snaps his hips forward.

This time, Jungkook's head falls back against the pillows, and Jungkook's hands grasp at the bed sheets to ground himself.

"Oh god," Jungkook says with a gasp. His hand flies down to grab his cock. He gives it a few quick strokes, twisting his wrist at the tip on each upward drag of his fist. 

Taehyung wants to jerk Jungkook off himself, to give him double the pleasure. But he doesn’t trust himself to keep a rhythm, doesn’t think he has the fucking coordination to pull it off when all the blood in his body has drained to his dick.

"Is it good?" he asks between thrusts, his voice crackling like gravel.

Am I good? He can't bring himself to ask that question; he never has and never will.

"Mhm, mhm," Jungkook whimpers, nodding. "So good, so full."

Jungkook reaches up to press his hand against the bed frame so he won't hit it when Taehyung thrusts particularly hard. His other hand holds his cock, occasionally stroking it when more precum dribbles from his slit.

Jungkook stomach flutters with each flex of his abs and shallow breath, but Taehyung keeps his hand pressed down as he fucks into him. Taehyung's body moves on instinct now, chasing every breathy moan that falls from Jungkook’s lips. He gets his groove, fucking Jungkook hard enough that he's convinced he'll get bruises on his hips from it.

Fucking Jungkook is so different.

Most of the girls Taehyung fucks put on a performance. It isn't to fake an orgasm; Taehyung definitely gives them at least one. The performance is more about attraction, them trying to make themselves sexy for him, something pretty and filthy to fuck. Lots of tit squeezing, over-the-top giggly moaning, playing up their feminine innocence.

But with Jungkook, it's raw (literally) and genuine. It's real.

There's something about knowing Taehyung is the one getting Jungkook off, making him feel good. It almost doesn't matter how good Jungkook's ass feels gripping Taehyung's cock with each thrust—just seeing Jungkook's eyes glaze over and his lips fall open in a shameless moan is enough to wreck him.

His thrusts quicken, sharp and deliberate, punching wrecked sounds out of Jungkook with every snap of his hips. The initial fear of hurting Jungkook melts away with the heat of his body. Jungkook fluctuates between soft whimpers and deep, masculine groans, all of which hit Taehyung right in the cock in the best way.

"Tae, stay, stay like this." Jungkook reaches for him, his nails dragging down Taehyung’s chest, leaving red, stinging lines mapped across his smooth skin. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

Jungkook's ass clenches around Taehyung's cock, tightening up, gripping him with such intense heat.

And then Jungkook comes, untouched.

Taehyung barely has the time to process it before he feels it, the way Jungkook's legs begin to shake and the sudden wet warmth of his cum spilling between them. And fuck, the look on his face—pure, unadulterated pleasure, mouth open as Taehyung continues fucking him through his orgasm—is almost enough to make Taehyung come right then and there, too.

He didn't even know men could come untouched like that.

"Shit, that was so fucking hot," Taehyung whines against the curve of Jungkook's ear, voice low and wrecked.

Taehyung continues fucking him, even as Jungkook's legs shake so hard he almost has a hard time keeping Jungkook still. The bed creaks even louder, and the frame thumps against the wall in quick, sharp bursts. He leans over Jungkook, nearly folding him in half as he presses their bodies together, grinding into him as deep as he can. His arms tremble as he braces himself above Jungkook, his breath coming in ragged pants, his body coiled so tightly that it hurts.

Jungkook cups Taehyung's face, tilts his chin, and kisses him. It isn't desperate like before, just soft, almost airy. It feels like permission, like love, if Taehyung is brave enough to believe it.

"You're fucking me so good, Tae," Jungkook whispers against Taehyung's lips, his nose scrunched up, so fucking adorable even after he literally just came all over them. It isn't fair. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this."

The words barely leave Jungkook's lips before Taehyung comes so hard he sees black spots in his vision.

He moans into Jungkook's mouth, breath hitching as he chants his name. "Jungkook, Jungkook." It's just as reverent as it is filthy, the only kind of prayer Taehyung has ever uttered. Each sound tumbles out of him as his cock pulses, shooting his cum deep inside Jungkook in waves.

Taehyung doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Jungkook’s fingers thread through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Jungkook sighs softly, arms wrapping around him, holding him close.

It hits him, then, that he just came inside of Jungkook, filled him up with cum that spills out of his hole when Taehyung pulls out. He stares, large hands squeezing the backs of Jungkook's thighs to hold him open. Jungkook's gaping hole clenches, pushing Taehyung's cum out in milky streams.

"Holy fuck, Jungkook."

Jungkook chuckles, his chest still rising and falling in deep, shuddering breaths. With a shaky hand, he reaches down to run his fingertips against his own rim, smearing the cum leaking out.

“Are you going to thank me for sex again?” Jungkook teases, voice rough.

Taehyung chokes on his own laugh, his head hanging down and his face half-hidden by his sweaty bangs. "Shut up."

Despite being sweaty and cum-soaked, Jungkook latches onto Taehyung. Their limbs are still entangled, their chests still heaving. With his head resting on Jungkook's chest, Taehyung can hear his heartbeat through their attempts to regulate their breathing.

It's quiet like this. Calm. Taehyung isn't the type to stay behind after sex. Funny, because at least while they're on tour, Jungkook is the one he goes home to every night—no matter who Taehyung fucks.

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers against Jungkook's collarbone. He smiles, small and soft, when Jungkook laughs again.

"Wanna shower?"

Taehyung nods, but his grip around Jungkook's torso tightens. "In a little, yeah." Taehyung is calm and collected. He's casual, just like the sex they had.

Jungkook doesn't question him, but Taehyung isn't surprised. Sweet, perfect Jungkook who has guided Taehyung into so many leaps of faith.

There's so much more Taehyung could say, should say. But he keeps quiet and listens to the steady thrum of Jungkook's heart against his ear and the gentleness of his breathing. And maybe he melts into the soft caress of Jungkook's fingers tracing his spine, massaging his scalp, touching the freckles scattered across his flushed face. He's not sure if sex has ever left him feeling satiated like he does now, something holistic, whole-bodied. It isn't just the pleasure of busting a nut.

Jungkook squeezes Taehyung a little tighter as if he can hear how loud his thoughts are.

And this time, Taehyung doesn't panic.

Fic Masterlist

Taehyung senses the band’s low morale when the hotel manager fucks up their reservation, and Seokjin lugs their bags to the room without protest.

Room.

Singular.

They’ve been broke and still are, so sharing one hotel room with two beds isn’t unheard of. The sleeping arrangements aren’t ideal, given the limited space and privacy, and four grown men fighting over one bathroom. However, it’s not the worst situation.

Except that Taehyung and Jungkook always share a bed, and Jungkook sucked the soul out of Taehyung this morning.

Taehyung can’t worry about that now. He has other concerns, like how Jimin is shitting his brains out in the hotel bathroom from his anxiety poops, and Jungkook has Jersey Shore blasting on the TV, watching it with unblinking eyes. In the doorway, Seokjin kneels down to tie his shoes, his attention on Taehyung, who stands by the bed. Shifting on his feet, Taehyung does his best to avoid thoughts about their looming performance at Spine Breaker within the next twenty-four hours.

They’re a fucking disaster.

“Did Hobi and Namjoon respond to the group chat?” Seokjin raises his voice a little for Jimin to hear him through the bathroom door.

Taehyung checks the group chat when Jimin shouts back that he doesn’t carry his phone into the bathroom because it’s unsanitary.

“Joon wants to know if we wanna pregame here or at their hotel before going downtown,” Taehyung relays the information while Seokjin laces his second shoe. “What do you want me to say?”

Seokjin’s bangs fall into his face. They’re streaked with red, one of Jimin’s hasty dye jobs that actually turn out good. “Well, what do you want?”

From his peripherals, Taehyung sees Jungkook shift in the bed. Taehyung is certain that the beds in the room aren’t queen-sized. They’ll have a cramped sleep tonight.

“I’m… gonna stay here,” Taehyung says.

Jungkook whips his head toward Taehyung. Silence hangs in the air as Jungkook gazes at him, lips down-turned, and his brow creased with concern. “What? Why?”

Fucking million-dollar questions, aren’t they? Taehyung doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’s been considering what it would mean to be more self-aware and intentional about his life. “Been”, as in, within the last twelve hours. Maybe having one of your best friends, who you thought lowkey hates you, decide to gargle your dick changes your brain chemistry for the better. 

Maybe Taehyung should see a therapist. Maybe Jungkook’s mouth could be his.

Fucking hell.

“I’m stressed as fuck,” Taehyung admits. He isn’t lying, but he isn’t sharing the whole truth. “I wanna, you know, boil in the hot tub or some shit. Getting drunk isn’t gonna help me relax.”

Seokjin and Jungkook’s eyes meet across the room. 

Taehyung opens his mouth to say more, then thinks better of it, forcing a low laugh instead. The sound is a huff of air that pulls his shoulders inward in a quick jerk before cutting off when he bites the inside of his cheek. Of course, they can’t imagine Taehyung doing anything but drinking. Creating this reputation for himself isn’t anyone’s fault but his own; that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Tell them we’ll meet up at their hotel, then,” Seokjin says once he finishes lacing his sneakers.

Taehyung hates being told what to do but still texts Namjoon and Hoseok because he cares about them, despite them being idiots. “When are you guys gonna be ready?”

“Soon as Princess Punk finishes blowing up the bathroom,” Seokjin says, snickering. He’s in full dad mode tonight, wearing New Balance sneakers, khaki shorts, and a checkered buttoned shirt. 

When Jimin returns from the bathroom with pale cheeks and an all-black leather outfit complete with looped straps and fake pockets, he looks out of place standing beside Seokjin. Taking in the room with a quick sweeping gaze, Jimin’s eyebrows knit together like Jungkook’s. 

“It’s me, you, and Jungkookie?” Jimin asks.

Taehyung’s fingers trace patterns on the surface of the nightstand beside the bed, paying no attention to the rest of the conversation. It doesn’t involve him; he has already made his plans known.

Annoyed, Taehyung lugs his travel bag onto the bed. Perhaps he’s throwing a bit of a fit as he sorts through the bag, looking for his swim trunks, but he doubts his bandmates are paying attention. He can’t stop the quickening of his pulse as it raises his temperature, boiling him from the inside before he even reaches the hotel’s hot tub.

The scent of chlorine lingers in the air as Taehyung retrieves his swim trunks, reminding him that the band needs to find a laundromat soon. His travel bag is starting to smell musty. His swim trunks are a deep red, with five-inch seams, affectionately referred to as “hoochie daddy shorts” by Jimin, who would know these things. He looks himself over in the bathroom mirror once he has changed, refusing to acknowledge how bright and clear his eyes appear. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have dark bags under his eyes, and his skin feels smoother beneath his stubble when he touches his cheeks. 

It might be a trick of the light or Taehyung’s imagination. An orgasm afterglow doesn’t linger all day.

With a sigh, Taehyung grabs a spare towel from the bathroom and drapes it over one shoulder. It’s rare to get alone time on the road. Even trips to the bathroom feel rushed when you know someone is waiting on the other side of the door. Getting away from the band would be good for Taehyung. His head is muddled with fucked up thoughts he doesn’t know what to do with. He knows he’ll be fine if he simply has a day to sort himself out. He has to be. If he doesn’t pull himself together, he’ll jeopardize Spine Breaker, and he would rather die than do that. 

All he needs now are his slides. He has a one-track mind when he slips them on, considering the consequences of leaving his phone in the room and only taking the room’s keycard with him. He’s never been one to sit and think without distraction, too easily distracted by himself, but he figures it might be best to at least try. 

Taehyung is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize that Seokjin and Jimin have left, and that Jungkook is waiting at the door. 

“What are you doing?” Taehyung’s question comes out blunt, stunted, even though he doesn’t mean to put any emotion behind it. His gaze drops to the swell of Jungkook’s chest through his tight t-shirt before his eyes flick up again, finding Jungkook’s mouth instead.

“I wanted to say bye.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Oh.” 

Disappointment tugs at the corners of Taehyung’s mouth. Jungkook hates parties, drinking, and socializing with people he doesn’t know. The hope that Jungkook might stay behind grows, misplaced in Taehyung’s frontal lobe, somehow having crept up from his heart to cloud his judgment. 

Jungkook twists the doorknob but doesn’t pull. He leans against the door as he watches Taehyung with piercing eyes. Silence fills the room, only broken by the faint hum of the air conditioner working overtime to fight the summer night’s heat. 

“I’m proud of you, hyung.” Jungkook’s tone is soft despite the quirk of his lips. 

“For what?” 

Jungkook grins, wearing the scrunched nose expression that makes Taehyung cave every time. “For choosing to stay here.” 

Taehyung rubs his sweaty palms against the towel draped over his shoulder, using subtle movements to pretend that he’s adjusting the fabric’s position. None of this is as big of a deal as they’re making it out to be. 

Despite the pounding of his heart in his ears, Taehyung asserts, “It’s whatever. I know my limits.” 

“Well,” Jungkook’s shoulder makes a muted thud when it connects with the hotel door, “I’m proud of you, regardless. I just hope you don’t get lonely…” 

Taehyung wants to laugh at that. He rarely gets embarrassed but finds that he can’t look Jungkook in the eyes when he speaks. There’s too much weighing him down, a strange heaviness that blankets him and Jungkook. It’s the summer air, thick and warm, drifting in from the open window on the opposite side of the room, he tells himself.

“It’s just for a few hours, Koo,” Taehyung says. He tilts his head to the side so he doesn’t have to look at Jungkook directly. “I’m a grown man; I don’t need my bandmates to keep me company all the time.” 

Taehyung’s face burns when Jungkook bites his bottom lip. 

“Yup, you are,” Jungkook acknowledges. His gaze travels over Taehyung’s body, lingering on his swim trunks. 

There’s so much more Taehyung wants to say, but he can’t. His chest is still tight. Even when he shuts his eyes, his mind is filled with the image of Jungkook’s sinfully innocent face from between his legs. He needs to remind himself that it’s only Jungkook—his sweet, caring, beautiful Jungkook, who somehow makes a white t-shirt look like it belongs on a runway in Paris. 

Half of Jungkook’s hair is in a ponytail, the rest curling toward his shoulders. Taehyung wants to brush Jungkook’s bangs out of his eyes, but his stomach has this fluttery, empty feeling that leaves him too breathless to move. 

“Text me?” Jungkook’s soft request gets swept up by the roaring in Taehyung’s ears. 

The roaring intensifies as Jungkook leans in, inching close enough for Taehyung to push him away, but moves quickly enough to leave him breathless when Jungkook presses their lips together. 

On stage, Taehyung oscillates between losing himself in the drums’ vibrations rippling up his arms, the music pounding in his ears, and watching Jungkook. He heard the saying somewhere that still waters run deep. That’s Jungkook, quiet and collected, but beneath the surface are pieces of Jungkook that Taehyung is sure few people understand.

Tonight, Jungkook comes alive like the bubbling of the hot tub water Taehyung is eager to sink into. His hands tremble as he cups Taehyung’s face and pulls him into a kiss. The brush of their lips is rough until Jungkook licks Taehyung’s, coaxing his mouth open to taste him further.

Taehyung feels the beat of Jungkook’s heart against his chest and leans into it like he’s desperate for its rhythm to guide him. It’s familiar, instinctual. Taehyung’s breath hitches and a soft gasp escapes his lips as Jungkook gently plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. It doesn’t matter that this is only the third time they’ve kissed. It’s impossible not to be captivated by Jungkook. 

Jungkook is ruining him. 

It’s a terrifying realization. 

And then Jungkook leans away. He pulls his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up with Seokjin’s contact photo. 

“They’re waiting for me.” Jungkook’s voice is still soft. 

Taehyung watches him presumably send a text to Seokjin about heading down to the hotel lobby. When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung’s eyes drift toward the beds. Indifference has always looked good on Taehyung, but that’s how it goes with wanting anything you can’t have. He crosses his arms and tries to pretend his chest isn’t tight and his lips don’t tingle from Jungkook’s kiss. 

“You don’t have to stay out long,” Taehyung says, the words slipping out before he can fully think them through. 

Jungkook looks up at him and smiles. “I won’t,” Jungkook says, without needing Taehyung to explain himself. He knows. Jungkook always knows what he means, even when Taehyung is too afraid to say it. Even when Taehyung barely understands it himself.

For a moment, Jungkook lingers. He looks like he has more to say, but instead gives Taehyung a gentle smile. Then he’s gone, slipping through the hotel door, leaving behind the click of the electric lock. 

Taehyung doesn’t know how long he stands at the door, doesn’t know why he’s waiting. For the first time all tour, maybe even for the first time ever , Taehyung stays behind. He can’t help but think that something about it feels permanent.

🎶 Black Swan Spine Breaker Setlist 🎶

For the first time all tour, maybe even for the first time ever, Jungkook isn’t nervous. His phone buzzes in his back pocket as Seokjin gives the band his typical pre-show pep talk backstage at Spine Breaker’s main stage. Each vibration mimics a heartbeat, a steady thump that he can’t ignore. Choosing the heartbeat haptic for his Jiae’s text message notification is a little corny, but it speaks to how much he loves his little sister. 

Good luck oppa ✨ Show em what the fuck you’re about 🎤

“She’s so fucking funny,” Taehyung comments as he reads the text over Jungkook’s shoulder. 

Nosy. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, especially not when he feels Taehyung’s fingertips dance along the sliver of skin peeking out from between the waistband of his jeans and the slightly cropped muscle t-shirt he’s wearing. The outfit is the same one Jungkook tried on at the thrift shop, the same one that made Taehyung’s eyes pop out of his head when Jungkook modeled it for the band. Taehyung might not think Jungkook noticed, but he did.

“Do you two really have the audacity to interrupt the most important pep talk I’ll ever give in my whole entire life?” Seokjin butts in with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Jiae says good luck.” Jungkook shows Seokjin and Jimin his phone, pleased as his friends coo over her message. 

Jiae is so different from Jungkook. There are aspects of her personality that remind him a lot of Taehyung, so easily self-assured and honest. Jungkook wishes Taehyung would find those parts of himself again. And not just pieced together in a shoddy facade the way he has now.

“Let’s send her a selfie,” Jimin offers with a giddy bounce. He’s already getting out his phone. The rest of the guys obediently gather around him, Taehyung staying on the outside of the huddle. Having the longest arms in the group means he’s the designated selfie taker. 

They’re cute, Jungkook thinks as they smile at the camera, shouting, “Spine Breaker!” Seokjin does a flower pot pose, tilting his head to the side and giving the world aegyo despite being a local kid in a silly punk band. Jimin’s smile is so bright that his eyes crinkle until they’re closed. 

Jungkook means to smile, and he thinks he does, but it’s difficult to focus on the camera lens when Taehyung wraps his arm around Jungkook’s waist. Taehyung’s fingers slip under his shirt to grip his waist, right at his hip bone, where his Adonis belt dips into the waistband of his jeans. Jungkook inhales sharply. He tries catching a glimpse of Taehyung from the corner of his eye, but can’t without straining. If he looks too weird, Jimin will make them retake the picture, so it’s “socials worthy”.  

After four additional goofy pictures and a horrendous 0.5 that makes Jungkook’s nose look bigger than it already is, Black Swan lines up with a Spine Breaker Festival employee. Behind Jungkook, Taehyung twirls a drumstick between his fingers. Jimin and Seokjin fiddle with their guitars. Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with his hands, alternating between shoving them in his pockets and running his fingers through his curly hair. Jimin cut it the night before, but Jungkook kept it long after Taehyung commented on how he wished he could pull off a wolf cut hairstyle. 

“Are you wearing your lucky underwear?” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s ear. The warmth of his body so close to Jungkook’s adds to the sweltering summer heat.

Jungkook grins, but he doesn’t turn around to look at Taehyung when he speaks. “I told you I got rid of them forever ago.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Jungkook uses his tongue to wiggle the black hoop piercing in his bottom lip. His laughter comes as a muted rush of air through his nostrils. “Shut the fuck up, hyung.” 

Taehyung responds at the same time the festival employee announces that Black Swan is cleared to begin setting up. Jungkook doesn’t know if he hears what Taehyung says, and then he’s caught up in the whirlwind of Seokjin and Jimin urging him forward onto the stage. 

“Make me,” the quiet phantom of Taehyung’s voice whispers beneath the employee’s announcement. Jungkook doesn’t know if it’s real or if he makes it up. 

None of it matters when the crowd buzzes with excitement as wave after wave of people realize a new band is getting set up on stage. Jungkook’s brain goes on autopilot as he helps his bandmates get ready, adjusting their mic stands and kicking cords out of the way. Jimin bumps hips with him when he passes to take on the left side of the stage, Seokjin claiming his usual spot on the right. 

Looking over his shoulder, Jungkook watches Taehyung fold his red and white paisley bandana to tie around his head. He meets Jungkook’s gaze when he’s finished, and Jungkook forces himself to maintain eye contact as Taehyung pushes his hair back, the muscles in his arms rippling, head tilted back just enough to narrow his dark eyes. 

And then Taehyung grins, something goofy and boxy, and gives Jungkook a thumbs up. 

“Ready?” Seokjin asks with a crack of his knuckles. 

Jungkook ducks his head and smiles at the grimy stage floor while the crowd buzzes before him, thousands of people here, to see them. It’s funny, maybe even a little pathetic, because there’s really only one person who’s watching that Jungkook cares about—and he isn’t in the crowd. 

“Yeah.” Jungkook takes a deep breath and nods at Seokjin. “I’m ready.” 

Jungkook gives himself to the music and lets it do whatever it wants with him.

“I summoned you, please come to me. Don’t bury thoughts that you really want. I fill you up, drink from my cup. Within me lies what you really want.” 

He closes his eyes, listens to the buzz of the crowd. Holds the microphone stand like the lover he wishes he had. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face. The stage vibrates beneath the soles of his boots. 

“Come, lay me down, ‘cause you know this, ‘cause you know this sound. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, just call my name, I’m yours to tame.” 

He pulls his hair back and ties it into a bun, and smiles shyly when a few whoops are shouted from the crowd. 

“In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, I’m wide awake, I crave your taste. All night long, ‘til the morning comes.” 

Most American rock bands don’t do true ending ments, but Black Swan does. 

The crowd is too far for their fans to notice, but tears sparkle in Jimin’s eyes when he thanks them for coming. Jungkook watches Jimin subtly wipe his cheek by tucking his face into his shoulder. He smears the silver glitter he’d so artfully painted around his eyes backstage, but their set is over. Makeup can be reapplied; they’ll never relive the experience of their first big break ever again. Jungkook hopes Jimin sits with his tears for a long time after they’re gone. 

“You could ask the guys and they’ll tell you” — Jimin gestures toward Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook with the hand that isn’t holding his microphone stand steady — “I never shut up. But I’m genuinely at a loss for words right now.” 

Beside Jungkook, Taehyung twirls a drumstick between calloused fingers. He smells like sweat and the spicy cologne Jungkook loves so much, the one in the skinny red bottle that he whips out for special occasions or when he thinks he’s going to get laid. But what stands out the most is what Taehyung doesn’t smell like: alcohol. 

“I’m not all into this sentimental shit, so I’ll just keep it short, I guess,” Taehyung mutters. He pauses, his eyes briefly locking with Jungkook’s. “We wouldn’t be up here without our Kookie. No doubt about it, whatsoever. This kid… Black Swan is Black Swan ‘cause of this kid.” 

It’s true, but Jungkook hates that Taehyung says it. 

“Awww, Kook, don’t be so shy,” Jimin coos and the crowd loses it over Jimin tugging his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders to give him a sweaty half-hug.

Whatever face Jungkook makes must articulate his nervousness more than he thought it would. He has never been one for keeping his feelings in check, somehow always letting them bleed through his expression. “Fix your face” is what Seokjin constantly tells him. It’s a running joke at this point. 

The tears that spring from the corners of Jungkook’s eyes are unexpected, though they shouldn’t be. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans into the microphone when more people awh and cheer. “Leave me alone,” he huffs, and some fans laugh. 

He barely sputters his way through a thank you. At some point, someone passes a clump of tissues for him to dry his eyes off, and he imagines the Rolling Stone releasing an article with his red, runny nose and puffy eyes as the cover. Obviously, they’re not big enough for the Rolling Stone to care about them, but still. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Jungkook complains once Black Swan’s time on stage is up, a speck in the universe, a moment in time when Jungkook felt like he was someone else but exactly who he is meant to be. There’s a part of his soul still on the stage, living in the floorboards and the wires inside the microphone. He breathed and sweated it out of himself and now feels lighter, airy as he wobbles down the stairs backstage. His knuckles turn white from how tightly he grips the railing to stop himself from falling. 

“What is? You crying?” Jimin asks. The tip of his nose is pink, too. 

Jungkook leans against the railing and watches Taehyung help Seokjin lug their equipment into the back of the Emo Mobile. The yellow, dry grass of the festival grounds cracks under the van’s wheels. They weren’t supposed to park in the grass behind the stage, but there was no way the four of them could carry their gear from the main stage all the way to the parking lot. Jungkook can barely lift his arms above his head and he wasn’t even playing an instrument.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in between guzzling the water bottle Seokjin shoved into his hand the moment they stepped off the stage. 

Jimin scoffs. “Between you and him,” — he gestures to Taehyung, whose eyes widen — “I’m sick of this toxic masculinity bullshit. Just cry, oh my god. You’re a human being.” 

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

Jungkook has no idea what else he says because Taehyung grabs the hem of his tank shirt and pulls it off over his head. It peels off like a snake shedding its skin, sweaty and limp in his hand. Jungkook watches him tug it through his belt loop. When he reaches up to shut the van’s trunk, every muscle in his upper body ripples and flexes underneath sun-kissed skin. 

Seokjin clears his throat, and the sound cuts through Jungkook’s concentration sharply enough that his head hurts. “We’ve got around an hour before AGUST D takes the stage.” 

Beside Jungkook, Jimin lets out an exaggerated moan. 

“Okay, first of all, fuck you.” Seokjin jabs at the air in Jimin’s direction. “Are we trying to shower at the hotel and come back, or what?” 

“I’m cool like this,” Taehyung casts his vote. He leans against the van with his arms crossed against his bare chest. As if he can feel Jungkook’s gaze, his eyes dart over to look at him, giving Jungkook that same goofy, boxy grin he had earlier. 

It isn’t new; once upon a time, Taehyung was like that. Maybe not always, but most of the time. Jungkook isn’t sure what made Taehyung change. He just hopes he’s the reason the old Taehyung is coming back. 

“Of course you’re fine with being half-naked,” Jungkook quips. It’s out of character, and Taehyung’s lips part in surprise. 

“Guys.” Jimin stomps his foot, kicking up dry dirt with his platform boots. “We are wasting precious time for me to get mentally prepared to see the love of my life.” 

“Alright, we’re just gonna park this piece of shit in the lot and walk back.” Seokjin bitches and moans some more, continuing to bicker with Jimin as they climb into the van. 

They all decide there’s no point in showering when they’ll just get sweaty again from dancing in the pits and the relentless summer sun. It’s nearing dusk, just one more act before AGUST D closes out the day as the sun disappears into the horizon. Jungkook doesn’t care what they do. He’s exhausted, but adrenaline will keep him going the rest of the night. He might not sleep at all when they finally return to the hotel—and who knows when that’ll be if they attend an afterparty or two. 

In the back of the van, Jungkook and Taehyung sit next to each other on the makeshift cot, their sweaty arms sticking together each time Seokjin hits a pothole and jostles them around. 

“I can’t believe we fucking did it, Koo,” Taehyung says through a breathy exhale. He stares at his calloused hands resting in his lap, a small smile exposing his pretty white teeth. With blunt nails, he scratches at a blister that will surely bleed if he breaks it. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook sounds just as breathless, “we really did it. We really did it.”

When Taehyung looks up again, his gaze falls on Jungkook’s mouth. He licks his lips before his eyes dart up to connect with Jungkook’s, almost hesitant, like he wants to land on his parted lips again. Instead, he turns his head the half inch it takes to see Seokjin and Jimin at the front of the van. When he turns back to Jungkook, the heavy look in his eyes is gone. 

Jungkook tries not to feel disappointed. 

“It’s real fucked up we missed Hobi hyung and Namjoon hyung’s set,” Taehyung complains loud enough for Jimin to hear over the rumble of the van. The Emo Mobile will give out on them sooner than Jungkook will figure out how to understand Taehyung. 

“We’ll see them later!” Jimin turns in his seat. His cheeks are still puffy from smiling through his tears. “All I need is AGUST D’s autograph, and maybe a hug, and a selfie, and if he could just give me his phone num—” 

Seokjin slams on the brakes as he puts the van into park, sending Jimin flying into the dashboard. 

“Seokjin!” 

“That’s hyung to you,” Seokjin snickers to the tune of the van’s keys swinging around his index finger. “Let’s break some fucking spines.” 

Jungkook pats Jimin on the shoulder as he climbs out of the van. “You already broke Jimin’s.” 

“You’re breaking Jimin’s back, hyung?” Taehyung snorts. His smug attitude is swiftly dealt with when Jimin flings the passenger door open and smacks him with it. 

“The only person I love in this entire world is Jungkookie,” Jimin points his nose in the air and brushes his sweaty blonde bangs from his face. “Come on, Jungkook. We don’t need these losers.” 

With his front teeth biting at his lip piercing and his nose scrunched in a suppressed giggle, Jungkook gives Taehyung a look before letting Jimin drag him through the parking lot toward the festival’s back entrance for featured artists. They’ve got hours before the festival ends; Jungkook will find Seokjin and Taehyung later.

#

“You want anything, Tae? Beer? Rum and Coke? You still drinking fruity shit?” Namjoon’s got one leg swung out of the picnic table they’re sitting at, posed to take off. He’s collecting drink payments, Jimin’s tie-dye patterned debit card in one hand, Hoseok’s neon pink right behind it. They all know he’s going to pay for their drinks, anyway. 

Taehyung holds up the can he’s drinking and gives it a little shake. It’s too loud to hear the liquid sloshing inside, but Namjoon gets what he’s saying. “I’m good.”

“Lit.” Namjoon swings his other leg and disappears into the crowd of sweaty festival goers looking for a drink and something to eat before it gets too dark.

“Liquid Death?” Seokjin tries to grab the can from Taehyung’s hand. “Is that one of those fancy new beer companies?”

Taehyung pulls back quick enough that Seokjin misses it from his reach across the picnic table. Poor Jungkook has to duck from where he sits beside Taehyung to avoid getting knocked in the head. “It’s literally just water.” 

“It looks like beer,” Seokjin says with narrowed eyes. Taehyung tries not to get real fucking pissed off about it. 

“Here,” Taehyung shoves the can in Seokjin’s face, “waterfall it if you don’t believe me.”

The drink really is just water. Taehyung has seen it around at other festivals and venues. Designed to look like a beer can and decorated with skulls and shit all the punk kids like, the point of the drink is to look cool while drinking water, Taehyung guesses. He doesn’t care about aesthetics, but it feels like he’s drinking beer, and that’s why he’s got five of them. 

“It actually tastes really good,” Jimin observes once he has also taken a drink since apparently their entire group needs to see if Taehyung is, in fact, drinking water. “I wonder why.”

“It’s the lack of microplastics, probably,” Jungkook adds and it doesn’t matter if he’s right or wrong. Taehyung looks at him like he’s about to win the Nobel Prize in Chemistry. While the other guys had poured the drink into their mouths without touching it, Jungkook brings the can to his lips. “I like it, hyung.”

I like you, Taehyung thinks. Jungkook is one of his best friends. He’s going fucking insane.

“I gotta piss,” Taehyung blurts. He squeezes the edge of the picnic table and leans his chest forward for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Gonna break the seal?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung knows him well enough to tell he’s smiling by the teasing tone he uses. It makes Taehyung’s stomach flip at the navel, tossing him around like a kicked can in the middle of a mosh pit. 

“They’ve got some pretty gnarly public restrooms past the food trucks.” Hoseok gestures past where Namjoon is still in line for watered down beer and overpriced tacos. “Unless you want to catch a charge by pissing in the bushes.” 

A middle finger is all Hoseok gets in response. He giggles, of course, and Taehyung ignores him when he gets up from the table with his collection of empty water cans. “I’ll be back quick.” 

“I’ll go, too.” Jungkook gathers the remaining trash they’ve collected, plastic water bottles, cigarette butts, a dead lighter, and used makeup wipes from Jimin regretting putting glitter near his eyes. He doesn’t look at Taehyung when he heads for the nearest trash can. 

That’s totally fine, honestly. They’re just cleaning up after themselves like respectable citizens. Taehyung trails after him and definitely doesn’t think about how they’ve been attached at the hip all day. Jungkook nearly knocked Namjoon over to sit next to Taehyung at the table, and he argued with Seokjin about whether it’s his turn to sit up front in the van once they get back on the road later. 

None of it means anything. Everything is fine.

Except Taehyung is sober, yet he still feels like he’s going to throw up when he enters the public park restroom and Jungkook slips into the same stall with him. Maybe, if he wasn’t so emotionally stunted, so annoyingly apathetic, he’d understand that this is just what it feels like to care. 

“Jungkook—”

“Just be quiet, hyung.” 

Taehyung nods as Jungkook pushes him up against the stall and digs his fingers in his hair. This time, their kiss doesn’t start off chaste. Jungkook’s mouth forces Taehyung to follow his lead, to go at the pace he wants, to let himself be bruised and bitten. He opens his mouth when Jungkook flicks his tongue against his bottom lip and readily accepts each whimper Jungkook feeds him. And when the bulge growing in Jungkook’s jeans presses into the crook of Taehyung’s thigh, he pushes back until they’re grinding into each other in a rhythm all their own. 

Jungkook breaks away first. He pulls back just enough to breathe Taehyung’s air, and Taehyung has to tilt his head back against the stall to uncross his dizzy eyes. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook exhales with fluttering eyes. “I’ve just been wanting to do that all day.” He stares down at Taehyung’s large hands as they squeeze his waist, and nibbles on his bottom lip when Taehyung caresses his hips with his thumbs. 

Taehyung draws slow, small circles into the smooth skin of Jungkook’s lower abdomen. The feeling of holding Jungkook in his hands like this, the soft warmth of his body, and the swell of affection in his chest when Jungkook gives him those big doe eyes… All of this will be what kills Taehyung one day. 

There’s so much Taehyung could say, but he doesn’t know how. He’s not sure he can say anything. If he speaks it out loud, it’ll be real, and he doesn’t know if he can let this be real just yet. 

So Taehyung slides his hand in Jungkook’s hair to cup the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, and says nothing. For now, he’ll burn from the heat of Jungkook’s mouth and the desire that seeps like lava through his veins, and he won’t think about what it means. 

Maybe later. Then he’ll consider what it means that their kiss isn’t chaste, and it doesn’t taste like alcohol, either.

Fic Masterlist

*The number of chapters is TBD, but estimated to be around 14.

Chapter 1: Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

Chapter 2: Where Is Your Boy

Chapter 3: Thnks fr th Mmrs

Chapter 4: A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

Chapter 5: Sugar We’re Goin Down

Chapter 6: America's Suitehearts

Chapter 7: The Carpal Tunnel Of Love

Chapter 8: I'm Like a Lawyer with the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off

Chapters 9-14

“You’re lucky I have Jungkook’s location on my phone,” Jimin grumbles, glancing in Taehyung’s direction. “We were looking everywhere for you two.” He presses his lips together and crosses his arms against his chest as he walks. 

Taehyung doesn’t understand why Jimin’s irritation is directed at him . When did he become Jungkook’s keeper? 

“Why did you even leave? I thought the bar was cool,” Seokjin asks as he yanks the diner’s front door open. 

Taehyung hasn’t smoked weed in weeks, but he has cotton mouth that prevents him from answering the question. It feels like Seokjin and Jimin are reading into how Taehyung’s mouth falls open, as if they know his tongue is suddenly too heavy and sticky to move around behind his teeth. They eye him as if they know that Taehyung still has the sweet taste of Jungkook’s cherry vodka tongue in his mouth. 

Why did he and Jungkook leave the bar? 

Ducking his head down, Taehyung slowly raises his shoulders to his ears. It looks like he’s trying to protect his exposed neck from the chill of the night – at least, that’s what he hopes it looks like. He’s still kind of drunk, and he very well could just look like an idiot. 

“I was getting overwhelmed,” Jungkook explains when Taehyung doesn’t. “Taehyungie hyung helped me feel better.” 

Taehyung chokes on his own spit. He coughs into the crook of his arm hard enough that his eyes water. Why did Jungkook have to say it like that? It’s difficult to remind himself that Seokjin and Jimin don’t know. 

And then his stomach drops because Taehyung realizes Jungkook might tell them . 

Taehyung only makes it through the diner’s door because Jungkook gives him a hearty slap on the back that propels him forward and shocks his body into motion. 

“Well, that was very nice of him,” Jimin comments, his eyes still locked on Taehyung although he’s speaking to Jungkook. 

“Mhm, hyung is very nice.”

Perhaps Taehyung hasn’t learned from his past mistakes because he does his best to avoid Jungkook’s gaze while the group awkwardly hovers in the diner entranceway until they realize they can seat themselves. He keeps his eyes on the black and white checkered tile floor as he shuffles behind Seokjin toward one of the many empty booths. Toeing each square, Taehyung walks a straight line and tells himself that his excessive swallowing and rapid heartbeat are merely the result of being drunk. Same with the tingle in his lips. He wets them and tastes cherry. 

“Taehyung.” Blinking, Taehyung lifts his gaze to find Jimin looking tiny next to Seokjin in the booth. With narrow eyes, he gestures across the table. “Are you going to sit down?” 

Hot at the tips of his ears, Taehyung lowers onto the leather seat and scoots toward the wall until Jungkook has enough room to sit beside him. It would be odd for Taehyung to shove himself into the corner, so he forces himself to relax next to Jungkook, even when the press of Jungkook’s thigh against his own makes Taehyung’s lungs spasm. 

A waiter in a red apron and white button-up shirt approaches their table, twirling his ink pen around his fingers like Taehyhung does with his drumsticks. What Taehyung would give to be back at the bar on stage before he drank too much and lost himself in the process. 

“What’d’ya want?” Taehyung watches the waiter speak, but he doesn’t hear anything. When it’s his turn to order, he knows he’s staring and can’t figure out how to move his mouth to make words. 

“Taehyung? What do you want?” Jimin’s pointy-toed boot collides with Taehyung’s shin, and he hardly feels it. 

Sighing loudly, Seokjin takes over. “Just give him what I’m having. I wish I could say he isn’t always a brainless idiot.” 

None of this matters to the waiter. Taehyung is embarrassed anyway. 

The embarrassment makes its home in a pink flush across Taehyung’s cheeks for the remainder of the spontaneous burger run. He sits with his arms tucked to his sides and his shoulders curled forward as the band talks and jokes about things Taehyung can’t find it in him to pay attention to. 

All his energy goes into not fidgeting, no matter how badly he wants to look around the diner. He just wants to see. He wants to know if anyone is looking. Jimin is definitely looking, so other people may also be looking at him. He feels like there’s a sign on his head, something neon and sputtering like the one outside the diner. It’s crackling and flashing, Taehyung’s a queer ! 

Fingers brushing across the top of Taehyung’s thigh force him out of his stupor. He shifts his gaze from his half-eaten burger to his lap, where Jungkook’s hand is now firmly gripping his leg just above his knee. Despite the panic kickstarting his heart, Taehyung feels warmth bleed through his chest. Jungkook’s presence is comforting, like a weighted blanket holding Taehyung down.

Lifting his head, Taehyung is surprised that Jungkook isn’t looking at him. His wide eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he banters with Seokjin about some new video game they each insist they can beat the other at. Perhaps he sees Taehyung’s expression out of the corner of his eye because he lightly squeezes Taehyung’s leg. When the pressure lessens, Taehyung quickly slips his hand beneath the table to press on Jungkook’s, holding him in place. 

It looks weird from the outside, Taehyung staring into his lap and his hand under the table, but he isn’t thinking. He doesn’t think when it comes to Jungkook. 

Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Taehyung wasn’t thinking when he threw on a new black crewneck t-shirt identical to the one he’d been wearing. Giving the appearance that he hadn’t changed his shirt would have been smart if he’d considered that a crewneck t-shirt can’t hide the one piece of evidence that isn’t merely a figment of Taehyung’s paranoid imagination. 

But he’d been with Jungkook, and he didn’t think . 

“I have some concealer if you want to borrow it.” 

Jimin tosses a few bills onto the table. Seokjin and Jungkook are already waiting outside for Jimin to finish counting the tip. It seems that all Taehyung has to do is blink, and life has moved past him. 

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows as he rises from the booth, finally able to straighten his long legs. “For what?” 

An odd sparkle lights up Jimin’s eyes as he walks his fingers along Taehyung’s shoulder until he reaches the crook of Taehyung’s neck. 

“This pretty little thing here.” He taps the side of Taehyung’s neck with a broad smile, and Taehyung doesn’t need a mirror to know that Jimin is referring to the fresh hickey Jungkook gave him. 

Jimin spins away, brandishing his hotel room’s keycard. In the nearly twenty years Taehyung has known Jimin, he has never offered to help Taehyung cover a hickey. 

Forgetting his plan of not drawing attention to himself, Taehyung clasps his hand over his neck right above the hickey. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s alone at the table. 

There’s no way Jimin could know that the hickey came from Jungkook, Taehyung tells himself as he lifts his shoulders to his ears and braves the night air and his bandmates' suspicious looks. Why would anyone assume that the hickey came from Jungkook? It’s ludicrous. He and Jungkook are friends. Besides, Taehyung fucks plenty of people while on tour; the hickey could have come from any random girl at the bar. 

Jimin’s just fucking with him, that’s all. 

The guys leave Taehyung alone on the short walk back to their hotel. Paranoia makes Taehyung wonder if they had talked about him while he was still in the diner, but logic reminds him that there’s no point worrying about it if he isn’t willing to ask outright. Usually confident to a fault, Taehyung remains quiet. He isn’t ready to admit to himself that he doesn’t want to know if they talked about him. 

Because what if they had? 

Seokjin and Jimin’s hotel room is near the elevators. Seokjin makes it clear that he isn’t interested in staying up any later than they already have, even though Jungkook points out that Seokjin forced them to get burgers so late. 

The group splits then, and the younger two are told to fuck off and reminded that they have an early start in the morning. Taehyung has never felt more on edge about anything in his entire life. 

Except maybe now as he stands in the doorway of the room he shares with Jungkook, in the same spot where he’d jerked them off an hour ago. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook looks up at Taehyung from where he squats beside his open suitcase. “Do you want to shower?”

“With you?” Taehyung croaks, his voice getting higher by the end of the question. 

Heat floods Taehyung’s cheeks as Jungkook scrunches his nose. His cute bunny teeth appear when he giggles; for some reason, Taehyung’s stomach drops at the sound. 

“No, I meant, do you want to go first, or should I?” Jungkook asks with a shake of his head, sending his bangs into his eyes. 

“Oh.” 

Cradling his pajamas and toiletries in both arms, Jungkook knocks his shoulder against Taehyung’s when he slips past him to reach the bathroom. 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says softly. 

Taehyung isn’t so sure he believes him. 

#

In the morning, Taehyung finds himself curled around Jungkook. It’s no secret that Taehyung enjoys being the big spoon, but he and Jungkook rarely spoon in their sleep. When they cuddle, it’s usually with Jungkook sprawled across Taehyung’s body, pinning him down like a bambi-eyed octopus.

So it isn’t necessarily strange for them to wake up in this position, even though Taehyung went to bed too afraid to even brush his arm against Jungkook’s. The problem is that Jungkook is always squirmy when he’s the little spoon. All the shifting and wiggling wakes Taehyung up. 

Tightening his grip around Jungkook’s waist, Taehyung tries to hold him still against his chest. 

“Tae, are you awake?” 

“Mmm, what time is it?” Taehyung mumbles groggily. He snuggles further into the bed, but Jungkook pushes back against his chest. “What’re you doin’, Koo? ‘M tryna sleep. It’s not time to get up.” 

Taehyung doesn’t actually know that, but it feels too early to get up, and Seokjin has yet to tear the door down looking for them. 

“I don’t want to sleep anymore,” Jungkook whispers. 

The more he moves in Taehyung’s embrace, the harder it is for Taehyung to ignore how Jungkook’s ass is pressed flush against Taehyung’s crotch. He groans and rolls onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the slivers of sun sneaking out from the edges of the blinds. 

“Leave me alone.” 

Jungkook seems to have other plans, though. 

Taehyung moves his arm out of the way when he feels pressure on his thighs, entirely too close to his crotch. The pressure climbs upward, a palm splayed against his bare thigh, slipping beneath the loose fabric of his basketball shorts until fingertips brush against the edge of his briefs. 

“Jungkook!” Awake now, Taehyung immediately sits up to face Jungkook, who sits between his legs. “What are you doing?” 

It’s hard to feel upset or scandalized when all Taehyung can do is watch Jungkook’s tongue swipe over his piercing before pressing into the inside of his cheek. Goosebumps pebble Taehyung’s skin as Jungkook glides his fingers along the leg of his briefs. 

“After last night… I just thought…”

Taehyung’s stomach shouldn’t drop in disappointment when Jungkook removes his hand from his thigh. Taehyung should be glad; this isn’t best friend behavior. Yet his stomach falls, and he furrows his eyebrows. 

“You thought what?”

“I thought maybe I could suck you off.” 

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s chest, spreading like wildfire until even the tips of his ears burn with… something . He isn’t sure what. It’s not embarrassment; surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like shame either. 

Taehyung watches Jungkook stare at him with wide, timid eyes and trace his fingertips in soft swirls just above his knee. It takes a moment for the heat to settle. Taehyung feels it turn liquid, hot blood pumping through his veins. 

Desire. The heat inside of him is desire. 

Unable to speak, Taehyung finds himself nodding his head. It’s an almost out-of-body experience watching with heavy eyes as Jungkook runs his palms up both of Taehyung’s thighs. His touch is gentle and slow, almost delicate, when he curls his fingers around the waistband of Taehyung’s basketball shorts. The feeling of his blunt nails lightly scraping Taehyung’s skin makes him shiver. 

“Can I… can I touch you?” Jungkook whispers as he slowly – cautiously – tugs on Taehyung’s shorts. He speaks the question with the same gentle desperation he’d used when he asked Taehyung to kiss him. 

“Y-yeah,” Taehyung’s voice trembles, but he lifts his hips enough for Jungkook to pull his shorts down his thighs. It’s a quick motion that takes his briefs with it, leaving Taehyung cold and exposed. 

For a moment, Jungkook pauses. His eyes roam Taehyung’s body, and it would be embarrassing if Taehyung didn’t know why. 

It’s the tattoo that has captured Jungkook’s attention. He’s never seen it in full view up close. Due to the placement at his hip and upper thigh, Taehyung’s clothes usually keep the tiger hidden. With Taehyung naked, the entire tattoo is on display. Jungkook runs his fingers along the tiger’s menacing body as it stalks down Taehyung’s thigh. 

Taehyung has been told it’s a sexy tattoo, and he agrees. It’s meant to represent how Taehyung feels when he’s on stage: sexy, powerful, and in a league of his own. But never has he felt more attractive than he does now with Jungkook admiring him. 

Unlike the night before, Jungkook looks clear-headed and focused. Gone is the bold, bratty attitude. 

And unlike the night before, when Taehyung was convinced that touching another man hadn’t felt as life-shattering as he thought it would, he feels a strange release in his chest when Jungkook’s hand wraps around his cock. It’s as though the inside of Taehyung’s chest is pressurized, and Jungkook’s touch makes him deflate like a balloon. 

The slide is dry, but Jungkook’s hand is soft and warm as he drags it up and down Taehyung’s cock. He spends a bit more time doing this, occasionally rubbing his palm against the head just like Taehyung did when they jerked off together. 

Taehyung can’t do anything but watch. He hardly even breathes, just stares at the look of awe on Jungkook’s face. Is it awe? Jungkook seems like he’s done this before, which is a thought Taehyung doesn’t know what to do with. He finds it doesn’t matter; he can’t keep his thoughts in order when Jungkook lets go of his cock and moves onto his stomach in between Taehyung’s legs. 

With a fluttering chest, Taehyung props himself up on his pillow and internally screams at himself to think about this for a second . His heart is beating so fast that he knows if he laid down and held his breath, it would be visible through his chest. 

This might be what kills him, he thinks, when Jungkook blows on the wet tip of his cock. 

“Is this okay?” 

Jungkook searches Taehyung’s face for any discomfort, and Taehyung wonders what he finds. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. His fingers ache from gripping the bed sheets, but he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. 

“F-fuck, yeah, yeah, it’s…” Taehyung trails off as he watches Jungkook lick his lips before kissing the head of his cock. 

It’s obscene how Jungkook tongues at the slit, lapping up the precum dribbling from Taehyung’s cock every time it twitches. He looks up at Taehyung with pretty doe eyes as he drags Taehyung’s cock against his outstretched tongue. He slaps it against his tongue a few times, smearing precum onto his lips. 

Yeah, he’s definitely done this before. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung calls out in a broken voice. 

“I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.”

Taehyung whimpers. He fucking whimpers . He’s already struggling to keep his breathing relaxed as his stomach flutters and tightens. Sitting up slightly, he rests his weight on his forearms to watch Jungkook curl his tongue around the head of his cock. 

Flattening his tongue, Jungkook traces the vein along the underside of Taehyung’s cock repeatedly, eventually alternating between kitten licks and puckered kisses all along his shaft. With each kiss, Taehyung can feel Jungkook’s piercing drag against the sensitive skin of his cock. 

That fucking cursed piercing. 

Pulling back slightly, Jungkook softly spits onto his cock, making it wet enough to comfortably pump the part of his cock that he can’t reach with his mouth. Taehyung likes it wet; he’d told Jungkook that when they watched porn together. It seems that Jungkook is giving him exactly what he likes now. 

It’s the end of Taehyung’s sense of control. He can’t stop his body from reacting to the pleasure, even if his brain and heart are still panicking. 

It’s just Jungkook, one of his best friends. Sweet, gentle, caring Jungkook with stars in his eyes and a heart bigger than anyone Taehyung has ever known. 

Taehyung never stood a chance. 

“Shit, that feels so, fuck ,” Taehyung pants. His stomach flutters with each ragged breath. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he should be quiet, knows his moans and heavy breathing might be heard through the walls and into Jimin and Seokjin’s room, but he can’t stop. Jungkook moans just as loudly. The humming vibration around Taehyung’s cock makes him clench his thighs. Desire burns hot and deep inside him, to the point that he feels like he’s drowning. Each breath is so frantic that he begins to feel lightheaded. 

“Koo,” Taehyung chokes out as he starts to writhe. His hips buck upward, but Jungkook pushes them back down with a quiet grunt. “You gotta, you gotta stop, or I’m gonna come.” 

Reaching down, he tugs lightly on Jungkook’s hair, but Jungkook just takes more of his cock into his mouth. And then he does something the girls Taehyung hooks up with never do. Jungkook massages Taehyung’s balls, rolling and gently squeezing them, getting the sensitive skin wet from precum and spit. 

With a gasp, Taehyung comes harder than he ever has, even despite having jerked off the night before. His jaw hurts from his mouth hanging open as he moans and watches Jungkook’s throat bob when he swallows.  

Sweaty and exhausted, Taehyung falls onto his back. His ears ring as he watches sunlight dance across the ceiling. 

He just let his best friend suck his dick. 

Panic surges through Taehyung’s chest, that wildfire returning to climb up his neck and burn the tips of his ears. He could barely look at Jungkook at the diner last night; how is he supposed to survive this ? 

“Hyung?”

Taehyung clears his throat. “Y-yeah?” 

“Did I do okay?” 

Taehyung’s head spins as he sits up. Jungkook is wiping his mouth with his shirt, the sleeves long enough to nearly cover his fingers. He looks impossibly cute, kneeling between Taehyung’s legs with red, swollen lips. Sunlight catches on the wet streaks on his cheeks when he tilts his head, and Taehyung’s stomach lurches. Shyness seems to return to Jungkook’s expression, and he looks like he needs reassurance. 

Taehyung is suddenly filled with the urge to kiss him, and that’s somehow more startling than letting Jungkook suck him off.  

“You did great,” he murmurs, running shaky fingers through Jungkook’s bangs. “Thank you.” 

With a giggle, Jungkook leans away from Taehyung so he lets his hand fall to his side. 

“What?” The panic won’t detach itself from Taehyung’s ribcage. 

Jungkook squeezes one of Taehyung’s thighs before getting off the bed. His absence makes Taehyung feel cold. It also reminds him that his dick is still out, so he quickly pulls his shorts back up. 

“You just thanked me. I don’t know, it was cute. Who thanks people for sex?” 

Taehyung considers himself a really cool and collected guy, but he knows his cheeks are bright pink from Jungkook’s teasing. Ignoring the comment, Taehyung takes a deep breath and tries to clear his mind, but it’s still reeling. He scoots until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and watches Jungkook dig around in his bag for new clothes. They’ve got a bit of time before Seokjin needs them, but the excitement of the morning means neither of them will be sleeping more. 

It fascinates Taehyung how Jungkook can move through the room with the same quiet confidence he always has, despite what happened between them. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s hands still shake. He squeezes the bed sheets to ground himself. 

“Jungkook, you’re…” 

Taehyung looks down at the obvious bulge in Jungkook’s sweatpants. Closing his eyes, he tries to ignore how his navel flips. Jungkook is turned on because of him. Is that a reality Taehyung will ever be capable of understanding?

With a shrug, Jungkook grabs his toiletry bag from on top of the dresser. 

“It’s okay. It’ll go away.” 

“But, it’s so uncomfortable. What do you–”

Taehyung’s eyes immediately close the moment Jungkook’s lips press against his. It’s only a peck on the lips, closed-mouth and chaste, but it steals all the breath from Taehyung’s lungs anyway. He stares up at Jungkook with bleary eyes and a hazy mind. So much has happened that he can hardly think. 

“I like giving more than I like receiving. I know that’s weird, but… that’s just what I’m comfortable with. It doesn’t bother me, really.” Jungkook shrugs again. 

Perhaps to other people, it’s weird, but not to Taehyung. He thinks about how selfless Jungkook is and how giving he is in all aspects of his life. Jungkook moves through the world, mindful of how others feel and what others need. Taehyung sometimes wonders if he forgets that he’s a person with needs, too. 

When neither of them knows what else to say, Jungkook slips into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Taehyung slumps back onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling while he listens to Jungkook skip through the K-pop playlist Jimin helped him curate. Although it’s not the band’s type of music, Taehyung doesn’t find it unusual that Jungkook wants to start listening to music in Korean. He heard somewhere that listening to music in another language can help with learning it, but Taehyung isn’t the best person to get advice from about… well, anything. 

With a loud sigh that’s hopefully masked by the running water in the bathroom, Taehyung forces himself to get up. If he hangs out in bed too long, he’ll be tempted to slide beneath the sheets to hide from the choices he’s made. 

#

“Am I more than you bargained for yet?” 

“I’ve been dying to tell you anything!”  

“You wanna hear!”  

“‘Cause that’s just who I am this week!”  

“Lie in the grass next to the maus– Wait, isn’t a mausoleum where they put dead bodies?” 

Seokjin throws his head back with a deep sigh. The back of his head makes an uncomfortable thud against the wall, but he doesn’t even react. He and Taehyung have been sitting in the dressing room for at least an hour while Jimin and Jungkook try on clothes and scream along to the music playing from the thrift store’s speakers. 

“Mausoleums are for tombs, Jimin,” Seokjin sighs loudly. “They’re not morgues .” 

“I never said they were morgues.”

“You said dead bodies like as if they’re just tossing dead people in there like they do a morgue.” 

Seokjin turns his head to stare at Taehyung when he replies. His face twists up in a mocking expression that makes Taehyung have to bite his lips to stop himself from laughing.

The thick, burgundy curtain of one of the changing rooms flies open to reveal Jimin in blue jean overalls and a hot pink crop top, which shows off the tattoo scrawled across his ribs. He points his finger menacingly at Taehyung, whose eyes widen. 

“Don’t you dare mock me, Kim Taehyung.” 

“But I-”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” 

“Can we please go? Tae and I want to check out that record shop across the street,” Seokjin complains, refusing to back down when Jimin’s death glare lands on him. 

Taehyung isn’t sure what the fuck has been going on between the two of them ever since the night at the diner, but it’s something he’s confident he doesn’t want to be a part of. Although Jimin and Seokjin enjoy bickering, actual fights between them are rare. Rare and dangerous. Taehyung knows to avoid that lest he become part of the carnage. 

“Hey guys?”  

All three men turn around to see Jungkook's head peeking out from the curtain that shields his changing room. The curtain conceals the rest of his body, which he has pulled all the way to his chin. 

“What’s up, Jungkookie?” Jimin tiptoes to Jungkook, having regretted that he walked out into the common area of the dressing room in only his socks. 

“Can I show you guys my outfit?” 

To Seokjin and Jimin, it may not be obvious, but Taehyung can tell that Jungkook is avoiding looking at him. His big doe eyes flit between the older two, never landing on Taehyung. 

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Taehyung had spent all morning acting strangely around Jungkook, too. Since leaving the hotel, they have danced around each other as though somebody has drawn an invisible boundary between them, and neither is brave enough to cross to the other side.

Jimin claps his hands together. 

“Of course! Is this the one you want to wear to Spine Breaker?” 

Jungkook nods shyly before quickly disappearing behind the curtain again. It takes him a few seconds to step out of the changing room, and Taehyung imagines he’s double-checking himself in the floor-length mirror, making minor adjustments so he’ll look good for them. For Taehyung, maybe. 

The thought makes his cheeks burn.  

“It might be a little too much, but…” Jungkook trails off as he pushes the curtain away. 

The first thing Taehyung notices is the collar. It’s a thick, black leather strip fastened snugly around Jungkook’s neck. Little silver studs protrude from the leather, and a silver ring in the front rests in the dip at the base of his throat. The visceral reaction that shudders through Taehyung’s body is overwhelming, but all he can think about is what it would be like to hook his fingers through that ring and tug. 

“You look so good, Jungkookie! Oh my god, you’re so fucking hot!” 

Jimin’s squeals break Taehyung out of his trance. He watches Jimin bounce over to Jungkook and begin picking at the rest of his clothing. 

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Is it too much, though?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin scoffs and runs his hands down Jungkook’s muscular arms. “Stop acting so shy; oh my god. You look killer.” 

Jimin is right. The charcoal gray, sleeveless muscle tank accentuates Jungkook’s muscles by showing off his arms and pulling tight against the swell of his pecs. When he twists his torso, a bit of smooth skin and a hint of a perky brown nipple peek out. 

“Are the pants comfortable, though?” Seokjin asks with a furrowed brow. 

“I think so? They’re tight, but they fit okay.” 

Jungkook looks down at his legs. He lifts one, bent at the knee to show that he can move around and stretch the fabric. 

Seokjin leans forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. He motions for Jungkook to turn around, and Taehyung feels like whatever god is up there in the sky must hate him because Jungkook’s ass looks cute and plump in these tight gray jeans sent directly from hell. 

God, why is Taehyung checking out Jungkook’s ass? 

Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed a light pink, only noticeable because of the uncomfortably bright overhead lighting. He bites his bottom lip and breaks eye contact, choosing to look down at his heavy leather boots. He’s so innocent, with those big doe eyes that Taehyung couldn’t look away from while Jungkook sucked his–

“What do you think, Tae?” 

“Um,” Taehyung’s gaze flits to Jungkook. “It’s, it’s…” 

Jungkook gives him a small smile, and Taehyung feels like his chest might implode. 

“It’s a perfect outfit for Spine Breaker, Koo,” Taehyung murmurs, “You look… You look really good.” 

“Thanks, guys,” Jungkook says softly and quickly slips back behind the curtain. 

When Jungkook is gone, Seokjin turns in his chair to give Taehyung a stern look. 

“Dude, what the fuck is your deal lately?” Seokjin shoves Taehyung in the arm, causing him to nearly tumble from his chair. “You gotta lay off the weed. It’s killing your brain cells.”

“I haven’t smoked in months,” Taehyung grumbles and shoves Seokjin back. “I’m just tired as fuck. You keep waking us up at the ass crack of dawn.” 

The sound of the curtain sliding open makes Seokjin lean away from Taehyung. He exchanges an odd look with Jimin that Taehyung doesn’t understand. It isn’t unusual for Taehyung to feel out of the loop, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it. 

“Wanna go to the record store once I check out?” Jungkook stands with the bundle of clothes in his hands, having changed back into his t-shirt and shorts. 

Eager to leave the shop, Taehyung shoots out of his chair and nearly knocks over a large bin of stray hangers on the floor. He ignores Jimin’s raised eyebrows to keep his gaze on Jungkook despite the nervous jitters he feels inside. The thrift shop's headache-inducing lighting and musty smell have quickly become suffocating. 

“You two go ahead. I still need to figure out what outfits I like best. This one seems a little too…” Jimin gestures to the crop top and overalls. 

“Barbie?” Seokjin offers with a grin that Jimin tries to get rid of with a smack to his arm. “I think I’ll stay here to make sure Jimin doesn’t pick anything ugly.” 

“Oh, as if your taste in fashion is any good!” 

Leaving Seokjin and Jimin behind, Taehyung and Jungkook weave through the racks of vintage clothing and shelves with an assortment of shoes, stacks of DVDs and VHS movies, and other eclectic accessories. 

Thankfully, there isn’t a line at the checkout counter. Taehyung knows he’s openly staring at Jungkook as he makes small talk with the employee, laughing at whatever joke they tell as he plucks his wallet from his back pocket. Taehyung has told him hundreds of times not to put his wallet there, as easy of a spot it is to pickpocket, but now he appreciates the excuse to drop his gaze to Jungkook’s ass when he reaches for it. 

Not that he’s looking or anything. Just… looking. 

Taehyung is more of a boob guy, anyway. Not that this has anything to do with that. 

What the fuck is he going on about? 

“It’s across the street, right?” Jungkook swings the brown paper bag with his purchased items around so it bounces against the tops of his thighs. “I’m surprised Seokjin hyung is letting us spend so much time here.” 

Here is another middle-of-nowhere town that looks just like all the others they’ve passed through. The only thing special about this town is that it’s four hours from the city where Spine Breaker Fest is happening. By tomorrow, Black Swan will be prepping for their first large-stage performance. If Taehyung thinks too much about it, he might get sick. 

“He’ll probably want us to leave soon,” Taehyung replies with a shrug as he pushes open the thrift shop’s front door. “We should get to the hotel before dark so we can get to bed early.” 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go to sleep.” Jungkook reaches behind his head to gather the top layer of his hair into a small ponytail with the hair tie he keeps on his wrist.

The midday sun burns high in the sky. Sweat moistens Taehyung’s forehead just in the little time it takes to cross the street. He adjusts the headband he wears to keep his bangs out of his face and wonders if it’s too late to ask Jimin to cut his hair before the show. They’re all nervous as shit, though they show it in their own ways. As Jungkook so aptly pointed out two nights ago, Taehyung enjoys running away from his problems until they eventually catch up to him with a knee to the groin and a punch to the face. 

“You’ll have an easier time falling asleep if you stay off of Twitter,” Taehyung teases, though there’s a serious warning in the undertone of his comment. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he holds the record shop’s door open for Taehyung. 

“Let me live. Besides, it’s mostly just people thirsting over you, anyway.” 

Wetting his lips, Taehyung follows Jungkook and lets his response die on his tongue, whatever weak words it would have been composed of. Twitter is full of thirst tweets, though Taehyung is pretty sure most of them are about Jungkook, not himself. Why is Jungkook even looking at tweets about Taehyung? 

The record shop smells as musty as the thrift store, but the lighting is easier on Taehyung’s eyes. He blinks a few times to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim environment. Customers meander through the rows of vinyl and CDs as indie music plays softly from the overhead speakers. 

Taehyung and Jungkook easily slip into the same role, wandering through the merchandise, neither looking for anything in particular. That’s the fun of record shops. Taehyung enjoys walking through decades, flipping through genres, and perusing the alphabet for bands with silly names or cool album art. Music tells a story, not just with lyrics but with the world's history woven into its notes. Taehyung might not be book smart, but he knows what it feels like to surrender himself to a song, and he thinks that has taught him more about life than anything else. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they had our album in here?” Jungkook asks with a smile that crinkles his nose. When he squeezes past Taehyung in the aisle, their bodies press against each other.  

Taehyung forgets to respond. 

Seokjin and Jimin take longer than expected to finish up at the thrift shop. Taehyung supposes Jimin has probably attempted to force Seokjin to buy new clothes, considering how much he despises the experimental shit Seokjin likes to come up with as outfits. Their fans love Seokjin’s quirky sense of humor just as much as the haters like to drag him for it, but they all know he dresses for himself regardless. 

Never mind all that, though. Taehyung is content with bumping shoulders with Jungkook when they both reach for the same CD and sift through the little basket of pins with band logos and funny phrases to show each other. 

In the bubble of the record shop, Taehyung can pretend that he and Jungkook didn’t cross yet another crucial boundary this morning. He can pretend that Jungkook is the best friend he’s always wanted back and was too afraid to admit he’d pushed away. He can pretend that when Jungkook looks at him with sparkles in his eyes, it’s because he’s excited about the Arctic Monkeys sticker he’s considering buying for his laptop and no other reason. 

Jungkook’s ringtone startles Taehyung, making him drop the Pierce The Veil graphic t-shirt he was considering buying. When he retrieves it, the black fabric is streaked grey with dust. 

“Ah, sorry, it’s Jiae,” Jungkook explains before accepting the call. With his phone to his ear, he gestures toward the door to let Taehyung know he’ll talk to his little sister outside. 

“Tell her I said hi and that I’m real disappointed she hasn’t responded to my memes,” Taehyung says with a firm pout that Jungkook laughs off. 

The bell above the shop’s front door rings when Jungkook steps out. Alone, Taehyung goes back to perusing the merchandise. He doesn’t think much of it when he finds himself in the international music section of the shop, and his long fingers flip through K-pop albums. He hasn’t kept up with the celebrity gossip in his home country, so he knows very little about musicians’ comebacks or group disbandments. Names and song titles stick out to him more than anything else, and he’s seen the playlist Jimin made because they share a Spotify account. Considering the band lives gig-paycheck to gig-paycheck, a premium Spotify account is pretty fucking expensive. 

Despite the lack of funds to cushion his wallet, Taehyung plucks a familiar CD from the shelf and takes it to the register. He can see Jungkook through the front windows. 

Jungkook stands with his shoulders hunched and his free arm wrapped around his torso. When Jungkook sidesteps a person walking down the sidewalk, Taehyung catches a glimpse of his furrowed eyebrows and the downturn of his mouth. 

“Sir?”

“Huh?” Taehyung whips his head around to look at the cashier holding the CD. 

“I asked if you wanted a bag,” they say with a concerned look. 

“Oh, uh, no, I’m fine.” 

Thanking the employee, Taehyung ducks out of the shop with clammy hands and a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

When Taehyung approaches Jungkook, he’s no longer on the phone. Unsure of what to say, Taehyung holds out the CD with a nervous jitter rippling through his chest. 

“Um, I really liked this album when it came out—Kai’s first mini album. I think Jimin rec’ed it for you already, but some of the songs remind me of you, so I thought you’d like it,” Taehyung finishes nervously. 

When he finally finds the courage to look at Jungkook, panic surges through him when he sees the tears streaking his face. 

“Koo, what’s wrong?” Taehyung moves to drop his arm, but Jungkook catches his wrist. 

It’s the first time Jungkook has touched him since this morning. Taehyung wishes the circumstances were different.  

“Thank you, hyung,” Jungkook says softly. He takes the CD from Taehyung and uses the opportunity to inspect it rather than meet Taehyung’s gaze. “This is really sweet. We should listen to it on the way to the hotel.” 

Stunned by Jungkook’s nonchalant behavior, Taehyung bounces on his feet for a moment as he searches his brain for what to say. He’s not very good at this emotional shit; it’s something his past partners disliked about him. However, when it comes to Jungkook, Taehyung feels like he’d tear his own heart out if it would make him feel better. 

It’s just a matter of getting that across without sounding fucking insane. 

“The CD is no big deal, but what happened, Jungkook? Why are you upset?”

Jungkook tilts his head back to let his tears pool rather than flow. 

“I just feel like I’m being selfish, doing all this.”

In moments like this, Taehyung wishes he was more like Jimin. Jimin would be able to handle Jungkook’s fears with grace. Unfortunately, Taehyung can’t force himself to keep a neutral expression. His face twists with frustration, and he immediately resists the urge to challenge such a ridiculous thought. Jungkook? Selfish? Hell could freeze over. 

“What do you mean?”

“Chasing a dream that’s probably never going to amount to anything. You have to admit it’s true, Tae,” Jungkook inhales sharply, and Taehyung hears how congested he is from crying, “all while my family is struggling. I could have a steady job and contribute to them financially, but instead, I’m never around, and I’m not there to support them or be useful. I’m the oldest son – the only son; it’s my job to care for our family.” 

“C’mere,” Taehyung beckons gently. He pulls Jungkook against his chest and holds him there with his head tucked under his chin. None of this is new; Jungkook always carries the world on his shoulders. 

Around them, people move about their day. Taehyung has to shuffle Jungkook off to the side when a group of loud teenage girls try to walk around them to enter the record shop. He can feel his sweaty skin unstick from Jungkook’s when he leans away. It’s hot – and not a good way, but Taehyung doesn’t care. It feels right to hold Jungkook. 

He can’t remember the last time they hugged. 

It’s entirely Taehyung’s fault. 

Clearing his throat, Taehyung pats Jungkook’s shoulder in a way that he hopes is affectionate. “Where did this come from? Is Jiae okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Jungkook sighs, “My mom lost her job, though. And it’s just really hard to find something new that pays anything.”

Jungkook finally loosens up in Taehyung’s embrace. He rests his forehead on Taehyung’s shoulder, leaning most of his weight against him. Taehyung wraps his arm around his waist and cradles the back of his head. The humidity makes Jungkook’s hair frizzy, and Taehyung gently wiggles his fingers through it. 

“Our gigs are paying a shit ton more, now. And think about it,” Taehyung encourages, “After Spine Breaker, we’ll be making even more. We’re getting closer, Koo. There are gonna be so many agents and shit at the fest, and we’re gonna get real media coverage.” 

It feels like a pipedream when Taehyung says it all out loud, but Jungkook needs to hear it. It doesn’t matter if Taehyung believes any of this wishful thinking will come true. It only matters if Jungkook does.

“I guess so…” Jungkook takes a step back. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes to wipe away the remaining tears. The scene makes Taehyung’s chest hurt. 

“Wanna wait for the other two idiots in the Emo Mobile? I’ve got the keys.”

“The Mystery Machine?” Jungkook asks with a sniff. 

Grinning, Taehyung swings the keychain lanyard. “Whatever you wanna call it, Velma.” 

Fic Masterlist

A/N: Who would like to take a guess as to why Jinmin are acting so sus? (OR! Is it all just in Taehyung’s paranoid mind, hm? What is the truth?)