Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Yoongi found Taehyung sitting outside of his apartment just a few days later after working his morning shift, it was a sight that just about made his heart jump straight from his chest.

Taehyung noticed him before he could say anything, eyes widening as he rushed to stand up. “Oh, shit.”

“What’re you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be back till tomorrow.”

Taehyung wordlessly lifted his phone, features still rippled with shock. “I… texted you.”

“Oh.” Yoongi frowned, quickly pulling out his own phone. He sighed when he saw how many messages lit up his screen. “I was at work, sorry. Shit, how long have you been waiting here? I could’ve called someone to let you in, Hoseok has a key, he could’ve… what the fuck are you staring at?” Yoongi finally asked, ripped away from his own words by Taehyung’s stunned expression that just wouldn’t go away.

Taehyung didn’t even flinch at the rise in Yoongi’s voice, features permanently shaped into this ridiculous pairing of parted lips and raised eyebrows, cheeks growing pinker the longer Yoongi stared at him, expecting an explanation.

“Your hair,” He said some time later, barely able to even manage that. “What did you do?”

And Yoongi being the idiot that he was, touched his hair as though he wasn’t completely aware that he’d dyed it a mint green just days before, mind short circuiting as he dropped his hand back down.

“I dyed it.” He shrugged, stepping forward to finally unlock his front door, partly because he was exhausted, but mostly because he was really fucking embarrassed by Tae’s reaction. “It’s Christmas time, fuck me for wanting something different.”

“No!” Taehyung laughed spastically, following Yoongi inside as the elder hung his backpack carefully on the coat rack by the door, and dropped his car keys in a bowl on the dining table. “It looks great! Really, really good actually I just- wasn’t… ready?”

Yoongi threw him a questioning glance. “You weren’t ready?” He snorted, laughing in that squeaky way he did every now and then.

Taehyung stepped forward and kissed Yoongi before he could even quiet down again, almost like he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand moved to cradle Yoongi’s face, keeping him from pulling away as he drew out a startled whimper from the elder with just a press of his tongue, heat sparking between them.

“You just get hotter every time I see you, I swear.” Taehyung insisted when they split apart, smiling fondly. “It’s starting to get unfair.”

Yoongi scoffed, patting at his chest to get some distance between them. “Are you hungry? I’ll burn down the kitchen for you.” He joked, grinning carelessly then, unable to stampen down the excitement he felt at seeing Taehyung so unexpectedly.

It seemed to only get worse when Taehyung actually accepted his offer, the pure joy in Yoongi’s chest branching out in every direction imaginable as he slid (with perfectly ironed socks and all) into the kitchen. He fucked around for a few minutes, panicking slightly about what the hell he was supposed to cook, but eventually he decided to go ahead and fry the steaks (Seokjin was going to kill him) that they had stored in the freezer.

However, what originally was meant to be twenty minutes spent in the kitchen tops turned into more than half an hour of Yoongi trying to make the perfect plate.

“You lying bastard.” Taehyung gasped when Yoongi finally made his way back into the living room, features blooming with delight when he was handed a steak and potato dinner, a bottle of red wine appearing between them. “All that talk about burning the kitchen down- what bullshit. You’re a master chef!”

Yoongi laughed nervously, sitting down on the couch beside him. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to reach forward for the knife Yoongi had placed on the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of steak so determinedly that he very nearly knocked the whole damn thing off his plate on his mission to shove the forkful into his mouth.

He swallowed obnoxiously loudly, smiling brilliantly. “Did I fucking stutter?”

They took forever to finish their food, hardly able to eat through their laughter as they talked about their holidays, what they had been up to in the rare moments when they hadn’t been texting each other. Taehyung had apparently doven into his parents’ pool in the middle of winter because his idiot brother dared him to, and Yoongi had been humiliated to admit that he’d eaten three slices of his mother’s apple pie in one sitting.

When their plates were licked clean, they moved to the wine, and it was at that moment that Yoongi started to over analyze exactly what they were doing.

It felt like a date. Just like that time they’d gone for lamb skewers, just like every other date Yoongi had ever been on- that’s what this felt like, and the thought alone was enough to make Yoongi pour himself a full glass of wine that Taehyung giggled uncontrollably at.

“I’ve discovered something.” Tae smiled widely once Yoongi had finished his first glass, bread cheeks rising as he teasingly poked a finger into the side of Yoongi’s face. “You get red when you drink wine.”

Yoongi grabbed hold of his finger, squinting as he pulled him away. “We don’t talk about that.” He said, and got up from the couch to wash their dishes with Taehyung’s laughter following behind him.

“What’s up with the keyboard in here?” Tae asked suddenly, gesturing curiously to the old object in the corner beside the TV, hidden away as if it didn’t wish to be seen. “I’m guessing it’s yours?”

Yoongi had about a million reasons why not to play for Taehyung in that moment, reasons that mattered, that made sense, but Yoongi played anyway because he wanted to, because Taehyung was right there and for now he was his. He was there and he was Yoongi’s and Yoongi had wanted to play him something wonderful.

When Yoongi took a seat on the piano bench, he purposely left enough room so that maybe, just maybe, if Taehyung wanted, he could-

Yoongi had only just started playing when Taehyung slid in beside him, pressing in so close and without restraint that Yoongi could feel him everywhere on his right side, shoulders and thighs touching, arms brushing every time Yoongi would move his hands further down the keys.

He didn’t try anything fancy, nothing with a fast tempo. He simply let his hands flow, let his soul lay bare through the music.

“Do you sing?” Tae whispered, shy about interrupting, and Yoongi was just so fond, so…

He slowly shook his head. “Never really got the hang of it.” He admitted, continuing on, but he almost immediately stopped when Taehyung himself started singing over his playing, vocalizing effortlessly, harmonizing with a soulful voice that made Yoongi’s heart convulse.

He turned to Taehyung abruptly, slightly breathless. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You can sing?”

“No.” Taehyung mumbled shortly, but his smile was bashful and he dropped his gaze immediately. “I used to wanna be a singer. I was the theatre kid that everyone avoided.”

Yoongi took note of that, just like he took note of every instance where Taehyung happened to talk about his childhood. It always made Yoongi unbelievably happy to hear about something that mattered to him, a memory or a story or even just an object that he cared about, because those were things he didn’t have to tell Yoongi but did.

It made Yoongi feel… special. Like he was worthy of hearing such things, trusted enough and maybe even liked enough to be shown a glimpse into Taehyung’s life. He pushed himself to remember that moment, just so he could write it down later.

“I can’t imagine why.” Yoongi said, smiling with his eyes as Tae laughed.

“I know me neither. I was way hotter than all of those fuckers.” Taehyung teased, scrunching his nose as Yoongi chuckled, shoulders shaking. When Yoongi finally recovered, fingers moving over the piano again, the younger’s features softened. “What do you want to do, Yoongi? When you graduate.” Yoongi’s hands stilled, eyes blinking dazedly over at Tae. “I know you wanna be a producer but, what, exactly do you want?”

If Yoongi was smart, if Yoongi was at all concerned about his own well being, then he would have found a way out of giving Taehyung an actual answer. He would have told him it doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t, or at least it shouldn’t, not to him, and he would have told Taehyung that this was probably the longest they had ever been around each other without rushing into sex, because at least then Yoongi wouldn’t feel so uneasy. So weighed down with a realization he wished hadn’t occurred to him.

But Yoongi was apparently much weaker than he’d even realized, and the way Taehyung was looking at him made him want to tell him everything, anything, it didn’t matter as long as he just kept looking at Yoongi like he was clawing for every word.

“I want to work with idols. I want to write songs, and get credit for those songs. I’ve started looking for job openings recently and everything.” Yoongi said, nervously playing a rhythm on the keyboard just to keep himself busy.

He expected the younger to stop there. For him to be satisfied with Yoongi’s answer, but instead he placed an eager hand on Yoongi’s thigh, lips stretching into a timid smile.

“How come?” He encouraged, wanting more, and Yoongi hadn’t really thought about it before, but he had so much to say, so many stories to tell that nobody had ever cared to hear before.

Not until now.

“I used to sit outside of this antique shop when I was a teenager and play on a street piano for money. This old, ugly, pathetic thing that would squeak every time I pressed on the pedals. But it sounded decent, and it felt like everything I needed for a while. Playing songs for strangers felt like enough, but then I started trying to play songs of my own. Harmonies I’d written on folded up napkins when my mom wasn’t looking, and... nobody could tell a difference. Nobody could tell which songs were written by me and which songs were written by masterminds- and I knew I’d never be happy unless I kept doing exactly that. Unless I kept playing.”

Taehyung seemed to not be able to breathe for a few seconds, perfectly shaped lips parted around disbelief he couldn’t swallow, amazement he couldn’t hide. He was speechless, a wetness gathering around his eyes, and Yoongi suddenly wanted to hide, to take it all back, because there was so many questions he wanted to ask and so many things he wanted to do but none of them felt right, none of them made sense because they didn’t make sense.

Their relationship, their feelings, the way they spoke to each other. Yoongi just wanted to believe so badly that there was something there, even if there wasn’t.

“I hope you get everything you want, hyung.” Taehyung said when he was finally able to speak, inhaling shakily through his nose. He swallowed, nodding. “I hope you get all of it and more.”

He didn’t say anything more about it after that, and Yoongi definitely didn’t press for details, but he did lean forward and kiss Taehyung with a softness that seemed to flood out through his limbs and seep right into the younger’s chest. Yoongi didn’t know if he wanted that, if that’s what he intended, but Taehyung was already responding back just as gently, just as adoring and heartfelt, and Yoongi didn’t think he’d ever kissed someone this way.

Yoongi traced Taehyung’s lips with his tongue, curled a hand into the front of his shirt when he finally pressed inside, and Taehyung was so pliant and sweet, opening his mouth to Yoongi and moaning when the elder nibbled his bottom lip. It had been more than a week since they’d done this, the longest they had gone without touching each other since this mess started, and Yoongi could tell they were having to learn everything again, retrain their hands and bodies to know exactly where to touch.

He couldn’t quite remember it feeling like this though. This was different from anything they’d done before, and Yoongi accepted it willingly, tilting his head back with a breathy sigh when Taehyung broke away to attach his lips to Yoongi’s neck, tongue running rampant down the lines of his throat. When Taehyung brought his hand up to the elder’s crotch, breath catching at the already dented denim, all Yoongi could muster was a restless whimper, fingers curling frantically around the bottom of Taehyung’s shirt.

Yoongi tugged at it with a pout, demanding, and the younger giggled boyishly as he obediently pulled the shirt over his head. Yoongi’s hands found their way to Taehyung’s chest almost immediately, touch fluttering along the tanned skin of his collarbones, the muscles in his chest, the wideness of his shoulders, and maybe it was the light tremble in Yoongi’s hands that caused it, or the shine in his eyes as he caressed the younger’s skin, but the way Taehyung smiled down at him was unusually shy.

“Can I touch you?” He breathed into Yoongi’s ear, and the full body shudder that coursed down Yoongi’s spine was apparent enough to make Tae hum against his throat.

Yoongi moaned, hips pushing into the other’s hand. “Yes, you idiot.” He urged, and Taehyung’s laugh was like crystalized honey against his skin, warm and happy as he pulled back to look at Yoongi.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Taehyung.”

“Okay, darling.” He relented, eyes turning dark. He pulled at the elder’s jeans, lips finding their way back to Yoongi’s jaw once he finally had a hand wrapped around his cock. “Okay, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

And Yoongi believed him without question, without a single doubt. He trusted Taehyung to take care of him, and he knew that the moan that was punched out of him the second Taehyung started moving his hand was inevitable, well deserved, because even after days apart Taehyung remembered rather quickly what it took to make Yoongi keen, back arching as his cock leaked at the attention.

Yoongi looked tentatively at the couch across the room, body growing uncomfortable from sitting at the piano bench for so long. “Do you… do you wanna-”

“You look good right here. I can see you better like this.” Tae said softly, catching Yoongi’s wandering gaze and offering a handsome smile before leaning forward to suck a mark into Yoongi’s skin.

Yoongi’s chest constricted at the attention, at the affection in the boy’s voice, and he nodded emphatically, the weight in his throat doubling when Taehyung tilted his head up and kissed him, stealing the breath straight from his lungs as he jerked Yoongi quicker.

“Fuck. Okay.” Yoongi swallowed, accepting the pleasure twisting in his stomach with red cheeks.

He forced his hands into the back of Taehyung’s hair to keep him close, keep his mouth right where it was, but the boy pulled away with a gasp anyway before too long, staring down between their bodies with a hardness settling over his features.

“God, I missed you.” He rasped, voice pitched with emotion he tried to stifle into Yoongi’s collarbone.

Yoongi’s hands tightened in the younger’s hair, heart beating rapidly down to his fingertips. “You did?”

“So fucking much.” He admitted, and the way he curled his wrist on the next upstroke made Yoongi see stars. He felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. “Being in that house again I just… I wanted you there with me.” Tae pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, lashes brushing over the elder’s nose before their eyes met, and Yoongi didn’t think he’d ever breathe again when Taehyung raised his free hand to cup his face, thumb pressing into the delicate pout of Yoongi’s bottom lip. “Missed you and your pretty face.”

Yoongi leaned forward before he could think better of it, moving until his forehead was pressed to Taehyung’s and every noise that he made, every twist of pleasure in his features was right there in front of his eyes.

It was the kind of intimate that was startling. The kind that sunk into your lungs, barreled through your chest, kicked up feelings you didn’t know you had and desires you hadn’t known existed- and Yoongi just hoped that he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t see how crazy it drove Yoongi to know that Tae could feel the way his breathing quickened, labored pants spilling out over the younger’s mouth like phantom kisses.

“Tae- fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you don’t slow down.” He warned, but the strain in his voice only seemed to encourage Taehyung more, the smile that he flashed Yoongi undeniably teasing.

“Only if you promise me you’ll be able to get it back up again. I missed your cock too you know. I’m not leaving here until you fuck me.”

Yoongi was a goner after that, seizing up in Taehyung’s arms with a silent scream as he came with an abruptness that swept fire into his veins. He scrambled to get a grip on the younger’s shoulders, the tremors in his body nearly tipping him over the edge of the bench, but Taehyung was quick to guide him to his chest with a hand in his hair, coaxing him through his orgasm with a soothing voice Yoongi could hardly even hear as he panted and moaned brokenly into the boy’s neck.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to answer, to tell Taehyung that he most definitely would be able to get hard again in any situation that involved him, but the way Yoongi grabbed the younger’s wrist to drag him to his bedroom the second his vision stopped swimming was better than any response he could have given. The breathless laughter that oozed out of Taehyung was also pretty fucking incredible, and it was a gift Yoongi accepted graciously, eyes closing from the width of his smile as he pressed Taehyung into the bedding.

In the end, it didn’t take much to get Yoongi hard again. Watching Taehyung finger himself open with a flush in his cheeks and Yoongi’s dried cum all over his stomach was enough of a sight to have the elder just as hard his second time around as Taehyung was without any relief, both of their cocks shiny and bruised a pretty red by the time Yoongi found himself sneaking between the boy’s thighs.

He lifted Taehyung’s legs up to drape them over his shoulders, eager, but he got distracted by how long and gorgeous they were, palms moving down the smooth skin with an adoration that was more than dramatic.

Taehyung laughed at him, clawing for the nearest pillow and hitting it across Yoongi’s face before he could duck out of the way. “You’re wasting precious time that you could be spending putting your dick in me.”

“I wouldn’t call this wasting time.” Yoongi smiled softly, a sharp contrast to the bitterness in which he threw the pillow back at Taehyung. They both dissolved into laughter.

“Fine.” Tae said snarkily, and Yoongi barely had time to look confused before Taehyung was ripping his legs out of the elder’s grasp and flipping them over with ease, smiling with full teeth as he rose up on his knees. “I’ll just have to do it myself then.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but the annoyance was clearly short-lived if the way he grabbed Taehyung’s hips was any indication. “You’re such a smartass, you know that? If I wasn’t so small I could- wait, what are… Taehyung!”

The elder shouted indignantly as Taehyung pressed himself down over his cock without any warning, thighs trembling against the stretch that made his eyes glaze. He gasped hotly, face coating with pleasure as he sunk all the way down, and Yoongi wanted to enjoy it, the hitch in his moan, the heat of his hole clenching around him, but Taehyung had seemed to miss one incredibly important thing, and Yoongi’s mind was sending alarms every which way.

“Tae.” Yoongi grounded out, barely able to speak with the way the younger was already starting to rock against him. “Taehyung-ah, we forgot to get a condom.”

He stilled the boy’s hips with a bruising grip, blinking up at him in bewilderment. It wasn’t like Taehyung to forget something like that, something so important to what they were, the casual that was stamped on everything they did. But even then, Yoongi figured it was an honest mistake, and he stretched over to grab one from his nightstand as Taehyung slowly pulled out.

It wasn’t until he felt a gentle hand on his arm that Yoongi realized what was actually happening, and he turned to Taehyung with wide eyes.

“Can we... go without one this time?”

Yoongi slowly moved so that he was leaning back on his elbows, confusion settling over his features, pulse residing in his throat. He looked at Taehyung, tried to decipher what exactly he was thinking, what the reason was, but the younger was acting like the request wasn’t anything more than an off handed suggestion, and Yoongi didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

He didn’t know whether it was a good or a bad feeling to know Taehyung trusted him so much.

“That doesn’t seem safe.” He said carefully, the weight in his voice unmissable, and Taehyung let out a tense sigh that made Yoongi’s body go rigid.

“I’ve already told you I don’t sleep with anyone else, haven’t I?” He demanded, eyebrows pinched together, and Yoongi really wished he hadn’t mentioned that again. The reminder made his chest tighten, the worst parts of him (the jealous parts) thoroughly pleased at being the only one currently seeing Taehyung like this. “You said you don’t either, so what’s the problem? Were you lying?”

“No, of course not.” Yoongi winced, suddenly worried that Taehyung was misunderstanding his hesitance completely. He swallowed loudly in the quiet of the room, uncertain as he placed his hands on the boy’s thighs in an attempt to soothe him. “I’ve just never, um...”

Taehyung stared at him for a long moment. “Me neither.”

Yoongi didn’t believe him. Not at first at least. He wasn’t trying to imply that he thought that Taehyung slept around, or had slept around previously. But Taehyung was the type who dressed to impress, who cornered Yoongi in the kitchen the first night they met, who wore fishnets under his skinny jeans on a casual night out and was shameless enough to grope Yoongi on a dance floor.

The point was that he was Taehyung and he was bold, and having sex without a condom didn’t seem like something he’d pass up given the chance.

Yoongi didn’t know why it mattered. He didn’t know why he cared, but he did. It was Taehyung, and of course he fucking cared. But he didn’t ask about it, didn’t question him, because there was something ablaze in Taehyung’s eyes, something raw and dark and wanton, and Yoongi couldn’t muster up a single complaint when Taehyung sunk down on his cock for the second time that night.

The pace was ruthless, the moans were filthy, and Taehyung bouncing on top of him was an image that made Yoongi physically weak, mind growing hazy at the endless pleasure, the warmth of Taehyung’s hole contracting around him with every snap of their bodies colliding.

Taehyung thrived like this, being in control of his own torture. He was perfect for it, had the type of control over his body that most people chased for, an undying heat in his veins that made every roll of his hips precise enough to have Yoongi’s cock slamming into his prostate. His skin was shining this way, with both sweat and something else entirely, something completely of its own, and his arms, which were frail and dainty and yet carded with veins, stayed pushed out in front of him where he held onto Yoongi’s chest for balance.

He looked beautiful, fucking otherworldly, and the debauched cry that launched out of him the second Yoongi started lifting his own hips to thrust up into him was a high pitched belt of pure ecstasy, every nerve in Taehyung’s body erupting all at once as he came all over Yoongi’s chest.

The elder watched in awe as the clouds left Taehyung’s eyes, the tremble in his legs ceasing as his cock finally began to soften.

“Don’t stop.” Tae said suddenly, opening his eyes once he realized Yoongi had stopped moving. “Don’t stop, Yoongi, come on. Want you to feel it too, feels so good. Don’t you want to? Don’t you wanna come inside me?” He rolled his hips encouragingly despite the twitch of sensitivity that flashed across his face, the strange mix of pleasure and overwhelment, and Yoongi found himself complying before he could think too much about it.

He held Taehyung to his chest as he fucked him, wrapping his arms around his back just to hold him in place as he shook and whined and cried into Yoongi’s neck when the elder finally came. It was unlike anything Yoongi had ever experienced before, the gush of warmth, the vulgar sounds Taehyung made as Yoongi fucked his cum up into him until the trail of white was leaving a mess all down their thighs, their skin, sealing them together so perfectly that he wasn’t even sure whose limbs were whose.

Taehyung was the first to move afterward, although very slowly. Yoongi laughed at him despite the hoarseness of his throat, and didn’t regret it in the slightest even when another pillow was tossed his way, hitting him square in the chest where Taehyung’s cum was still drying.

Yoongi winced. “You just got cum all over this pillow.” He glared pointedly, carefully picking up the soiled item, and Taehyung’s responding scoff was undoubtedly amused.

“The pillow? You’re worried about the pillow?” He shrieked, tip toeing around the room awkwardly like he wasn’t the one who asked to go without a condom.

Yoongi smirked, more sedated in that moment than he had been in months of having sex with Taehyung. “If you stop complaining and get over here then I’ll clean you up with my tongue.”

“Jesus.” Taehyung flinched, rounding on Yoongi so quickly he nearly lost his footing. “I don’t think I could handle that, wow, um- yeah, that’s a hell of an offer but I might like… die if you put your mouth anywhere near me right now.”

Yoongi laughed, high and joyful like he always did when Taehyung was around, and the banter between them didn’t stop even when they stepped into the shower together, scrubbing each other thoroughly, getting distracted once or twice when Yoongi would teasingly press a kiss to the boy’s shoulders asking, “did you die? Are you dead yet?” which was probably kind of annoying, but Taehyung would giggle every time anyway.

“You wanna go somewhere with me?” The younger asked once they were both dry and stepping out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Yoongi looked sideways at him. “Sure.”

He wasn’t all that certain when he answered, more surprised than anything by the sudden question, but Yoongi tagged along with Taehyung anyway and found himself pleasantly curious when they arrived in front of an art supply store that Yoongi had never noticed before. It was just across town, hell, Yoongi passed it probably everyday on his way to the flower shop, and it just felt all the more real when Taehyung dragged him inside with a hold on his forearm, the colliding of two worlds.

Yoongi probably should have expected the change in Taehyung’s behavior the moment they stepped inside. It was his environment after all, filled with the smell of pencil shavings and spray paint, but the shift came as a surprise, a cute surprise if Yoongi had anything to say, and he watched with a softened gaze as Taehyung skipped down the isles with a childish enchantment that only came with a man obsessed with his passion.

He ran ahead of Yoongi several times, making a show of having to wait for Mr Short Legs Yoongi to catch up to him, but each time he came back with a bigger smile, pinker cheeks, gravitating towards Yoongi like he was a goddamn star, and so Yoongi let him play, let him have his fun, because god knows it was the best thing Yoongi could ask for.

Yoongi was given the responsibility of maneuvering the cart while Taehyung picked out the items, and Yoongi whined a little about feeling used the longer the escapade went on, Taehyung winding in and out of the canvas isle with a contemplative frown even though they all looked the fucking same- but Yoongi really didn’t mind all that much, not as long as Taehyung was spending time with him.

And it was nice. Different and unfamiliar but nice to be with Taehyung alone in a regular way, in a friendly way, where all Yoongi had to worry about was keeping an eye on the younger at all times just to make sure he wouldn’t lose him in a tub of paint brushes somewhere.

When Taehyung had finally found what he needed, and was walking Yoongi back up to his apartment for a final goodbye after a ten minute drive in comfortable silence, Yoongi knew something was different.

It was the air maybe, or the frost on his skin from outside that had his teeth chattering even in the warmth of the buildings hallway. It was there, it was real, and it could’ve been a million things or possibly just one, but Yoongi didn’t let the fear of that something kick him to the ground that time.

He didn’t let it cripple him, seize his motives and twist them around to things he didn’t want, feelings he didn’t have, because there were things that he wanted and feelings… there were feelings.

Yoongi didn’t let the sudden change stop him from kissing Taehyung right there on his doorstep in early January with the cold of winter still biting his cheeks. It was a soft kiss, gentle, with no real heat in it despite Yoongi having to practically jump into it just to build up the courage, and when Taehyung tilted his head down just to capture Yoongi’s bottom lip into another kiss when the elder tried to pull away, Yoongi felt his heart reach a limit he didn’t know existed.

It was a kiss without tongue, without desire, without bare skin and wandering hands, and yet it was the sweetest kiss Yoongi had ever tasted.

<><><><><>

“Have you gotten a call back?”

“Hoseok-ah.” Jimin warned, glancing up from where he’d been vigorously stirring his bowl of ramen, glasses fogged over from the steam.

Hoseok shrugged, eyes wide with innocence. “What? I’m just asking.”

“No, I haven’t gotten a call back.” Yoongi deadpanned, the kitten in his lap being the only thing keeping him from leaning across the couch and wrapping his hands around Hoseok’s throat. “I haven’t gotten a call back since the last time you asked me if I’d gotten a call back twenty minutes ago.”

His voice came out as a growl, a glare forming, and Yoongi could only imagine how ridiculous he looked, sitting there scowling like an old man while Taehyung’s kitten nuzzled against his chest. It was already bad enough having to wait for a phone call about a potential producing job, the last thing Yoongi wanted was his friends blowing more smoke up his ass.

“I’m being thorough.” Hoseok assured him around a mouthful of noodles, clinking his chopsticks together.

“You’re being annoying-”

“Guys, come on.” Jimin sighed, elbowing Hoseok in the ribcage. “We’re trying to have a nice night, don’t ruin it.”

Yoongi scoffed. “It was ruined the second you chose for us to watch The Notebook, Jimin.” He grumbled, flinching when Jimin nearly propelled himself off the couch just to turn and look at him.

“This is a classic!” Jimin defended, looking genuinely hurt. Yoongi stared at him for a long while, clutching the kitten to his chest. He couldn’t help but burst out laughing when the moment of silence dragged on.

“It’s glorified abuse wrapped in a pretty bow.”

“It’s beautiful!”

“It’s repulsive!” He giggled manically, aghast that he was even having to explain the monstrosity that was The Notebook, but Jimin’s cheeks had already started to flame and Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop there. “And the only reason you’re blinded by this fact is because you think Ryan Gosling’s hot. He’s like, your type or some shit.”

“He’s what now?” Hoseok squeaked, panic rushing into Jimin fast and hot, soft eyes widening much to Yoongi’s amusement.

Taehyung really couldn’t have picked a better time to walk in.

“Taetae! Thank god you’re here. Please tell Yoongi-hyung over here why The Notebook is a cinematic masterpiece.” Jimin greeted his friend eagerly, flashing a desperate smile as Hoseok continued to look confused.

Yoongi turned to the man at the door, sarcastic when he mumbled, “yes, please do.”

Taehyung kicked his sandals off by the door without answering, dark hair brushed back into a backwards cap that made his ears poke out adorably. Yoongi bit his lip at the sight of him, never prepared for the power Taehyung had over him, even now. It was really fucking unfortunate actually.

Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly, mouth twisted into a frown. “It’s alright.” He said, tone unbelievably flat, and the three of them watched in silence as the tanned boy gave a small smile before turning and disappearing down the hall towards his room, completely missing the leftover ramen they’d left for him on the stove.

“Well that was fucking lame.” Jimin mumbled once he heard Taehyung’s door close, pouting into his food.

Yoongi stared after Tae’s figure long after he’d disappeared, unable to move his eyes away from the hallway. His hand that was petting the kitten came to an abrupt stop.

“Is he okay?” He asked Jimin, letting the kitten down by his feet to scurry off.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He always gets like this when he’s in the middle of a project.” He shrugged, settling in again with his head pillowed on Hoseok’s shoulder, and Yoongi knew he wasn’t going to get anything more than that.

“I’m, uh, gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Uh huh.” Hoseok mumbled, unconvinced, but Yoongi just rolled his eyes and stood up anyway, making his way down the hall to Taehyung’s room.

The boy had painted his door again recently. He’d made the entire front look like a rainforest, a mix of green and brown that hid the eyes of a tiger somewhere beneath all the brush. Yoongi stared at it for a long while, trying to gain some courage, but eventually he forced himself to turn the handle and walk in even with his heart still in his throat.

He knocked lightly as he peeked inside, trying to be polite, but it only took one glance for Yoongi to realize Taehyung was crying. He was laying on his bed facing away from Yoongi, knees drawn up, but the shake of his shoulders and volume of his sniffling was enough to give him away, and Yoongi felt his chest ache.

Yoongi wasn’t good at these kinds of things. He once walked in on Jimin crying on the living room couch and took a whole ten seconds just to turn around and sprint back out the door. He wasn’t good at comforting people, at knowing what to say, but Taehyung was hurting and Yoongi was shocked to find that he wanted to know why. He wanted to be with him, even if it made him uncomfortable, and so he walked into the room, pulled off his shoes so his OCD wouldn’t go batshit, and crawled his way onto the younger’s bed.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Taehyung said after a beat of silence, his voice hard to hear with him facing the other way.

“I’m always here. You’re just never home.” Yoongi insisted, smiling a little when that earned him a stuffy laugh. He looked over at Tae, hands clasped over his stomach nervously. “Should I leave?”

“No. No, stay.” He shifted slightly, looking like he wanted to turn around. “M’ glad.”

Yoongi nodded even though the other man couldn’t see him, a guilty spike of satisfaction blooming in his chest. He didn’t have a single idea what Taehyung could be upset about. He’d been just fine a few days ago, babbling to Jimin about some sort of secret Starbucks menu Jeongguk and him had discovered, but now here he was crying when he should be laughing. Yoongi was just so used to him laughing.

“Can I ask one thing?” Yoongi spoke towards the ceiling, a lump rising in his throat even when Taehyung gave him a hum of approval. “This isn’t about your ex, is it?”

“God, no. That’s not it.” Taehyung denied immediately, grimacing at the thought alone. He turned around to face Yoongi, movements sudden enough to make the elder stiffen terribly when he found himself nearly nose to nose with the boy. Taehyung frowned thoughtfully. “You’ve never asked me about him before.”

Yoongi stared. “No?”

“No.” Tae said, voice perked with interest despite looking exhausted. “Aren’t you curious?”

Yes, Yoongi thought stubbornly. But I can’t tell you that because I honestly shouldn’t give a shit.

Taehyung never moved his gaze from Yoongi, even when the elder didn’t answer. Even when the silence dragged on and the sound of Jimin sobbing over The Notebook in the other room became overbearing in the quietness of it all.

Yoongi could feel his heartbeat in every inch of his body, pounding away like a drum. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.” Tae smiled shyly, seeming to understand the peculiarity of the question as well. “That’s what you first thought was wrong. I just figured maybe you wanted to know.”

“Would you even tell me?”

“Maybe.” Another boxy smile, another scrunched nose. Yoongi wasn’t going to make it out of that room alive. “It’s not about him though. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t be so upset.”

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s me you’re talking to here. I shit my pants every time Hoseok forgets to iron his shirts.”

Taehyung’s entire body moved with the way he laughed, arms coming up to clutch at his chest like the warmth in his body was expelling too quickly, the joy in his heart was too overwhelming. His face brightened and his shoulders shook, eyes turning into smiling crescents, and Yoongi probably shouldn’t have looked for as long as he did, admired the way his features moved beneath a plain of golden skin, but he couldn’t help it.

How could he?

“My art didn’t get picked to be presented at this year's graduation,” Taehyung revealed once he’d finally calmed down, hysterical tears blotting the corners of his eyes. “Everyone and their mother's cousin show up to graduation and I just- I really wanted to be a part of it.”

Yoongi made a sympathetic noise, trying his best not to count Taehyung’s eyelashes in the darkness. “That’s not stupid.”

The younger snorted at the lacking response. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi grimaced. “I’m sorry, you know I’m not good at this shit. Not, fuck- not that it’s shit I just mean-”

“Oh my god, you’re adorable. But please shut up.” Taehyung giggled, saving Yoongi from further embarrassment, eyes soft as he brought a hand up to cup Yoongi’s newly flushed face. “At least you’re here, that’s enough.”

Yoongi tensed when Taehyung tucked his head to curl up into his chest. Yoongi gently put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, careful with how much he touched, but it didn’t take long for his resolve to slip, fingers somehow finding their way into the younger’s mess of dark hair.

“It is?”

Taehyung hummed. “You’re nice to be around, you know. Despite what you believe.” He draped an arm around Yoongi’s waist, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

Yoongi wished he could still see his face, maybe that way he’d understand what was happening. “I just think I’m a shit ton to put up with. Nobody wants to date a psychotic perfectionist.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Tae said, pulling back a little to look at Yoongi. “It’s not your fault, anyway. You mean well.”

“It’s weird.” Yoongi insisted.

“It’s really not.” Taehyung laughed, the sound reassuring. His lips quirked upwards, fingers fitting beneath the elder’s jaw. “I think it’s endearing. Your little habits. They make me smile.”

“You haven’t seen it get really bad before.”

Silence. Taehyung’s smile faltered, pretty wide eyes flickering with concern.

“Why? What happens when it gets bad?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I wanna know, Yoongi.” He said, eyes soft where they traced the line of Yoongi’s jaw just as fervently as his hand, and Yoongi wanted to ask why. Why should he care? Why did it hurt so bad to know that he did?

“I get these flashes, like... white hot in my chest. And there’s a feeling of just... wrong. Everything’s wrong. And it doesn’t matter what it is, it could be the simplest thing- but there’s just this feeling, this urge right there in the pit of my stomach. My doctor calls them compulsions, the reason why I do the things I do. They’re meant to help deal with obsessions.”

“Obsessions?”

“The stuff going on in here.” Yoongi pointed at his head, tapping along his temple. “Repetitive thoughts, emotions, urges. It’s very straining so… compulsions, the weird shit I do, are the result of all of that. A way of coping I guess.”

Taehyung chewed at his lip, carefully considering all the new information. “What kind of thoughts?” He asked after a while, leaving Yoongi balancing nervously over a cliff, unsure whether he wanted to continue.

“Well,” He started hesitantly, scrambling for examples. “One time, when I was in high school, I spent an entire weekend camped out in my car in the driveway because I’d gotten a bad cough and was terrified of getting my family sick. They eventually had to drag me out themselves, hose me down on the lawn just to knock some sense into me.”

Taehyung took much longer to respond that time. He squeezed Yoongi’s hip comfortingly, eyes wretched with sadness, and it was stupid because Yoongi wasn’t deserving of any of it. Especially when it had been Taehyung that was crying, Taehyung who needed comfort, not Yoongi. This wasn’t supposed to be about Yoongi.

“What do you do to help it? Anything?”

Yoongi thought for a moment. “I make lists.”

“Lists?” Tae questioned, not certain he’d heard it right. Yoongi smiled a little, knowing how ridiculous it could sound.

“Yeah, I make lists about everything, everyone. It doesn’t really matter what it is, but it helps me feel in control. Like I actually know what the fuck I’m doing.” Yoongi tried to explain, though it was hard, nerve wracking.

It had been Namjoon’s idea in the first place, a solution that had come from his love of poetry. Yoongi had refused at first, of course, because the last thing he’d wanted to do was write his feelings in a journal like some twelve year old girl, but the approach had turned out to work way better than any of them had expected.

Taehyung frowned thoughtfully at him. “What do you usually write about?”

You, Yoongi said inwardly.

He shrugged. “The flower shop, our friends, Seokjin’s shoulders.”

“Seokjin’s shoulders?” Taehyung laughed, squirming against him happily.

“There’s a lot to be said about them.” Yoongi grinned, hoping the younger dropped the subject before he had to say anything he’d regret.

Taehyung’s laughter died down eventually, body relaxing back into Yoongi like he had no shame in being there, as close as he was.

“If there’s anything I can do, hyung...”

Yoongi winced. “Tae-”

“I’m serious,” He pressed, gaze locking on to Yoongi fervently. “You want fried chicken at four in the morning? Don’t even fucking hesitate to call- I’ve got you. You wanna wash the same load of laundry three times just for the hell of it? I’ve got Downy and Tide, go to town, baby.” He said seriously, completely genuine, and Yoongi couldn’t help but giggle through the entire exchange, vision narrowing as his eyes crinkled with amusement.

Yoongi’s first instinct was to shut him down, insist he didn’t need caring for. Namjoon and Seokjin already did plenty. But he didn’t, because the thought of Taehyung even caring enough to look after him, make an effort because he wanted to made the selfish part of Yoongi flutter, warmth spreading beneath his skin where it stayed long after Taehyung fell asleep in his arms, breathing soft against Yoongi’s neck.

He couldn’t ask Taehyung to stop caring about him. Not when he wanted so much more.

It was maybe an hour later when Jimin came peeking into Taehyung’s room to find Yoongi blinking at the ceiling, hand still absentmindedly stroking the younger’s hair. Yoongi looked at him, watched Jimin smile and mouth ‘sorry’ before slowly shutting the door again, trying not to disturb, but Yoongi had already seen him and he knew that if he didn’t get up right then, then he probably never would.

Yoongi slowly removed himself from Taehyung, a bitter coldness latching onto his side the second they broke apart. He rubbed at his eyes, back arching as he looked at his watch. It was almost midnight.

With a stifled sigh, Yoongi stood up from the bed in search of his shoes, eyes moving around the room lazily. When he finally spotted them thrown hazardously by the foot of the bed, a hand reached out in the darkness to grab him before Yoongi could crouch down to pick them up.

“I told you to stay.” Taehyung murmured, eyes still closed, cheek squished into a pillow. When Yoongi didn’t answer, he pried his eyes open to look at him. “You can stay, Yoongi-hyung.”

“I have classes in the morning.” Yoongi said uncertainly, standing there helplessly as though he couldn’t just pull away from Taehyung’s hold on his wrist if he really wanted to.

“I’ll drive you.” He said, persistent even with his face puffed up and his voice scratchy. Taehyung slowly sat up in his bed, fingers tightening around Yoongi’s wrist as he tugged him closer with sudden excitement. “We can go get pancakes for breakfast or- or waffles! You like waffles don’t you, Yoongi-hyung? You’re not too tough and mean to eat a waffle are you?”

Yoongi wasn’t quite sold yet, but before he could decide, Taehyung had dragged him back down into bed with him, throwing an arm across his chest to keep him from escaping. Yoongi didn’t exactly try to.

Just like he didn’t try to make up his mind, or understand what was happening, because he knew there wouldn’t be an answer to the way Taehyung cuddled into his side, or the way he made Yoongi’s heart sing. He just let himself hold Taehyung, for however long he could, and tried not to think about how long he’d wanted to do just this; fall asleep with Taehyung without having to worry when he’d be forced from the bed.

The next morning, they woke early and Taehyung managed to get a willing Yoongi up and dressed for breakfast in record time, boxy smile present as he patted down the elder’s messy mint hair on their way out of the apartment.

They went to a local cafe in town that Yoongi had never heard of, and took a sunlit spot by the window that reflected against Yoongi’s skin in a way that made him shine like freshly fallen snow. At least that’s what Taehyung said.

Yoongi ordered pancakes, Taehyung got waffles, and they shared an entire pot of black coffee between them, neither of them bothering to reach for the creamer by the salt and pepper shakers.

Yoongi expected the change, sort of, but it was still a pleasant surprise to see Caffeinated Taehyung make an appearance. It was like regular Taehyung to a certain extent, loud and playful, but now he was even more giddy, even more passionate when he talked, everything about him heightened in the most wonderful way, and Yoongi was mesmerized.

Couldn’t take his eyes off him as he soaked his waffles in blueberry syrup and wiggled in his seat while chewing with full cheeks. Had no control over his smile as Taehyung whined over discovering Yoongi actually didn’t like waffles, the two of them slapping each other’s hands in a minuscule fight when Taehyung tried to sabotage the elder’s pancakes by covering them in salt.

They were rowdy and immature and ended up leaving the cafe with their shirts covered in stains, but Yoongi couldn’t stop smiling and Taehyung’s tears from the night before had turned into nothing but a dampened memory.

Their laughter lingered all the way up until Taehyung dropped Yoongi off at his first class just as he’d promised.

That morning, Yoongi stepped out of Tae’s car and made his way into the university building feeling as though he was leaving something behind.

<><><><><>

Yoongi doesn’t mention his birthday.

Not because he tries not to, or because he had some messed up shit happen to him as a kid. Nothing like that. It’s just never something he’s ever particularly cared to mention. Not as a teenager, not as a senior in college. He was a private person naturally, very much accustomed to living in the background, and somehow his birthday had never made it into the list of Things Min Yoongi Cares Enough About to Draw Attention to Himself.

Which is why Seokjin spent weeks during their freshman year just begging Yoongi to tell him what his birthday was, giving his best cherub smile, but Yoongi was a little bitch as Jin liked to say and let the question remain unanswered. This had inevitably resulted in Yoongi walking out of the shower one day to find Jin prancing in the kitchen with Yoongi’s drivers license in hand, squealing out March 9th! March 9th! as though he’d discovered something much cooler than the date his roommate was pushed out of his mother’s birth canal.

The thing is, that was the only time Yoongi could ever recall one of his friends finding out about his birthday. It started with Seokjin, but when Yoongi and Seokjin became Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon, the secret manifested and on the morning of Yoongi’s 22nd birthday he’d woken up to both Seokjin and Namjoon shaking their bare asses to Lady Gaga’s Telephone without explanation.

So maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that Hoseok also found out what day Yoongi’s birthday was. And that he told Jimin, and that Jimin told Jeongguk, and Jeongguk told Taehyung, and that on March 9th of that year he found himself being bombarded by six boys and an array of confetti the second he walked out of his bedroom.

“Happy Birthday, bitch!”

Yoongi threw Seokjin a glare, face still heavy with sleep, but he wasn’t really mad. Not when seeing Taehyung so early in the morning with his face bare and his hair messy made Yoongi glow from the inside out.

“I would’ve put pants on if I knew we were having company.” Yoongi said around a yawn, blushing a little when Jimin came forward to hug him despite his bare chest. “But, you know. Guess not.”

“Nothing we haven't seen before,” Jimin beamed, pulling away from Yoongi to smile over at Tae. “Right, Taehyung?”

Not good. Nope- Yoongi did not wake up to have that shit thrown in his face.

“While you guys stand around with your dicks out, I’m gonna make breakfast.” Yoongi announced, side stepping past Namjoon to make a beeline for the kitchen.

“Wait,” Taehyung called out to him. “Don’t you want dessert first?”

Yoongi turned to ask what the hell that meant, to try and have a conversation like a normal human begin, but instead he was bombarded by the sight of a pie being launched directly into his face from arms length, a gush of whipped cream and cherry filling that made him gasp in surprise as his vision disappeared.

Laughter flooded in around him, spilling every which way, but Taehyung’s laugh was the one he listened for. That impossible mix of high and low, bubbly and soft. The sound of it reminded Yoongi of his skin, the daintiness of his wrists and the apple of his cheeks. It reminded Yoongi of so many beautiful things, his heart becoming swarmed with the weight of them all.

He didn’t even have the coherency in that moment to be mad about his stupid friends acting like idiots.

“Motherfuckers…” Yoongi grumbled, reaching up to wipe the cream away from his eyes, but before he could even touch his face there were two people on either side of him licking the dessert from his cheeks, giggling into his skin, and Yoongi was squealing so cutely that he knew no one was taking him seriously.

“Hold still, hyung!” Jimin shouted right into his ear, undoubtedly one of the assholes licking him.

Yoongi reached blindly for the man on his other side, wanting to know who was defiling him, but there was just something about the way he felt pressed into Yoongi’s side. How his hand felt on Yoongi’s jaw, holding him still, breath tickling his ear that told Yoongi all he needed to know.

Still, he wound an arm around the boy’s waist anyway, inhaling sharply when he found the familiar shape of Taehyung immediately.

Tae giggled warmly, not so much licking Yoongi’s cheek as he was just giving slobbery kisses. “Smile that pretty smile for me, huh?”

And Yoongi didn’t understand what he meant by that, what the reason was, but Yoongi tended to do whatever the hell Taehyung asked, and so when his face rose with a bashful smile and the sound of a camera flashing filled the room, Yoongi really couldn’t even be mad at anyone but himself.

<><><><><>

One of Taehyung’s habits, which was just as adorable as it was inconvenient for most people around him, was his inexcusable ability to get bored easily.

He was like a child in that way (in many ways), but Yoongi liked to spoil him, and he had never once refused Taehyung’s offer to come over and distract him from school work.

“You’ll inspire me,” He typically said, the sheer size of his boxy grin audible even through the phone.

And who was Yoongi to deny him anything? It was moments like those that they were the most carefree, the most open and unapologetic about the way they touched each other, about the way their eyes lingered and crinkled around the corners when the other talked for too long about something that didn’t even matter.

It was moments like those that invoked something in Yoongi he couldn’t quite explain, the ache in his chest even more untamable in the quiet, and it was a night just like that when it happened.

Yoongi had come over at Taehyung’s request without a single thought not to, and it was him who kissed Taehyung first. Him who stripped the boy’s clothes and got him off exactly the way he wanted, the way that made Taehyung moan his name prettily into the back of his fist.

And he’s not sure how he knew, but he did, and what he knew was this:

If anyone were to ask him in the future, for whatever reason, he’d be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was in Hoseok’s apartment, in Taehyung’s bedroom, in the middle of a thunderstorm after coming apart in each other’s arms, when Taehyung spilt paint all over himself, a violent collage of blue and green, and looked like an absolute child just sitting there, silent and stunned.

That’s when he fell in love. That’s when it happened, and there was no loud thumping of his heart, no breath getting stuck in the throat, nothing he would have imagined. But suddenly Yoongi couldn’t hear the rain whipping outside, pattering against the window, or even the spinning of his own thoughts. He could only hear the sound of Taehyung laughing, happy and warm as he stood up out of his chair and made his way over to Yoongi with grabby hands, bread cheeks rising like hills on his face.

He couldn’t recall the time, or even the day, but he could remember the moment and how it felt to be in love with Taehyung and the way he cupped Yoongi’s face in his enormous hands, smearing paint over the elder’s cheeks just to kiss him. Just to press into his mouth and smile against his lips and drag Yoongi into the bathroom only a second later to clean them both up.

He wasn’t all that surprised, really. How could he be?

Yoongi had liked Taehyung from the start, and loving him was only a realization, not a step up from where he’d already been.

<><><><><>

Yoongi got the call on a Friday in the middle of April. The conversation was brief, Yoongi didn’t say much, but the man who had looked over his resume sounded impressed and Yoongi had felt a surge of pride when he was told he’d been accepted as a starting producer for an idol agency.

He thanked the man with a grateful voice, a smile tearing right through his face, but when the call ended Yoongi had felt his body grow hollow, and he cried into the lines in his hands.

It wasn’t Hoseok who came to mind first. Not Namjoon, or Jimin, or even Seokjin, but Taehyung.

Taehyung and his exuberant way of speaking, his playful smiles and steady hands that could create just as easily as they could destroy- and Yoongi didn’t know how that was possible. Didn’t know how it made sense, but he’d gone and fallen in love with a boy who didn’t want him back, and he was the first and only reason Yoongi could even think of that would make him stay.

Which is why Taehyung was the last to find out.

Yoongi told them each in his own way. He told Namjoon and Seokjin first, texted the news like some sackless teenager asking his parents for money, and had made the mistake of telling Jeongguk during a study session in the middle of the library where the boy had bursted into tears.

Overall, the reactions weren’t terrible. They were disappointed of course, sad, but happy for Yoongi.

He didn’t want to make a big deal about it. It was just a job, a small change. It wasn’t until Yoongi finally told Hoseok and Jimin about the offer over coffee one morning, explaining how he’d have to move nearly four hours away, that it became apparent that having it not be a big deal wasn’t exactly an option.

“Four hours?” Hoseok breathed, hand growing limp against his coffee mug. “Are you serious?”

Yoongi suddenly found it hard to look them in the eyes. “I won’t be working in the actual company building just yet. I’ll have to work my way there. But for now they want me and a few other producers to work from a studio in Gyeongju.”

Hoseok visibly paled, delicate lips twisting with a rush of emotions Yoongi couldn’t even begin to try and catch in time. The air between the three of them became distorted, tension ridden. Hoseok looked over at Jimin cautiously, communicating something only he’d understand, but the youngest was too shocked to even bother meeting his lover’s gaze, completely distraught by the news.

Yoongi covered his face with his hands.

“Where are you gonna live?” Hoseok asked eventually, pushing through the hurt, trying to be supportive, because nowhere in the plan had Yoongi mentioned having to move away.

It was never something that was discussed, that was meant to be a possibility. They knew Yoongi was graduating and he’d have to find a new place then, but that was different. That wasn’t nearly the same as him having to pack up his shit and move halfway across Korea.

“I’ll live with my parents until I can find a place of my own,” Yoongi explained, feeling unbearably small standing there in the kitchen. “But, who knows, maybe they’ll move me back here once I prove that I-”

“Yoongi.” Jimin interrupted forcefully, voice unnaturally cold. Yoongi blinked over at him. “Have you told Taehyung?”

Yoongi’s heart sank in an instant, discomfort apparent enough to make Jimin’s gaze harden even before the elder had a chance to answer.

“What does that matter?”

“You’re fucking my friend, hyung,” He retorted angrily, making Yoongi wince. “And you’re leaving. I think that matters.”

Yoongi wanted it to matter. Just like he wanted the sex and the drawings and the waffle dates to matter, to fucking mean something, but Taehyung wasn’t budging, Taehyung wasn’t giving- and Yoongi refused to let his career suffer just for a chance. Just for the small possibility that Taehyung might one day finally wake the fuck up.

Yoongi shook his head. “Not to him-”

The words barely made it out before Jimin was slamming his hand down on the kitchen counter between them, tipping Hoseok’s coffee where it spilled over onto the floor, and all Yoongi could do was stare as his mind went into a frenzy, his senses blasting into overload.

“Are you really that blind?! God, even Namjoon and Jeongguk weren’t this bad.” Jimin retorted with a brittle laugh, the sound cutting sharp against Yoongi’s ears. “So, what? You were planning to just leave without telling him?”

Hoseok moved his attention from the mess on the floor to Yoongi, eyes soft with worry. “Jimin.”

“Of course not.” Yoongi tried to defend, exasperated, but his throat was closing and his head was buzzing and nothing in that moment made sense besides the slow drip of coffee over the edge of the counter.

He couldn’t see anything else.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Jimin demanded. “You need to tell him now, before the semester ends. Are you trying to get back at him or something? Make him feel like shit by just disappearing?”

“Jimin!” Hoseok shouted frantically, noticing the panic in Yoongi’s eyes and interfering just as the pain settled right in the center of Yoongi’s chest, lungs collapsing from the effort to breathe.

Hoseok was by Yoongi’s side in an instant, guiding the elder to take a seat on the kitchen floor just as his body began to shake.

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s gonna- come on, you know he didn’t mean it. Jimin-ah didn’t mean to yell.” Hoseok soothed, smiling as much as he could, but there was a tremor in his voice that hadn’t been there before and Yoongi could see his fear, his unabiding concern as he reached for Yoongi’s face.

He thumbed at the sudden tears on Yoongi’s cheeks, wishing them away, but his eyes were welling up too fast for Hoseok to catch all of them and he eventually gave up when Yoongi grabbed at his hands. He made a wretched noise, something in between a sob and a whimper as he squeezed Hoseok’s palms, clawed at his wrists, anything to make him feel grounded, make him feel like his insides weren’t burning alive.

Jimin remained motionless where he stood, mouth open in a frozen gasp. “Hoseok-ie, he’s-”

“He’s fine,” Hoseok rushed to assure, flustered as Yoongi shuddered and gasped in his arms. “He’s having a panic attack, go get his medicine from the bathroom cabinet.”

Jimin faltered. “Didn’t he already-?”

“Just do as I say, alright? Go get it.” Hoseok snapped, gesturing wildly, and Jimin left with watering eyes, disappearing down the hallway. Hoseok turned back to Yoongi with a small smile, ever the living sunshine. “You’re okay, Yoons. Everything’s fine- we’re fine. We’re not mad at you, we love you. We love you so much, you know that?”

“Don’t hurt him.” Yoongi said, chest tight, but his words were wrong and his face twisted with frustration. He slapped angrily at his knees, brain boiling behind his eyes.

Hoseok hurriedly grabbed the elder’s hands. “Take your time, hyung. Breathe. Think about what you need to say.”

“Not… don’t- didn’t want to hurt him.”

“I know,” Hoseok sighed, managing to understand Yoongi perfectly even through the insanity of it all, and it made Yoongi’s heart fucking ache. He began to cry harder. “I know, Jimin’s just scared. He doesn’t want Taehyung to be sad.”

“I love him,” Yoongi cried out, hoping for someone to care, to hear him, because god knows Taehyung didn’t. Taehyung didn’t even seem to see him, and there were about a million things screaming in his chest at that moment, emotions that didn’t make sense, fears that kept him hiding, but it was this that he could actually voice. It was this that he needed out of his lungs, away from his heart, in the open where it could fuck up someone else apart from him. “I love Taehyung-ie.”

He sounded hysterical, like some wild animal was crawling up his throat, wanting to get out, but everyone had their breaking point and this was Yoongi’s. He’d found it in the form of a certain Kim Taehyung with caramel skin and toddler eyes.

Hoseok didn’t say anything as Jimin came back into the kitchen with Yoongi’s medicine, but even through the mess of tears and snot and misery Yoongi could tell how conflicted Hoseok looked, how lost in thought he was at the elder’s admission. Yoongi couldn’t even be bothered to care anymore.

“Water.” Hoseok said to Jimin, nodding when the smaller boy rushed to fill up a glass from the sink to hand him. Hoseok took both the water and the medicine bottle before turning back to Yoongi. “Do you usually take one or two when this happens?”

Yoongi grunted incoherently, throwing a hand out to snatch the bottle away from Hoseok. The two of them watched anxiously as Yoongi twisted off the cap, popped two pills in his mouth, and drank the entire glass of water without pause, finishing off with a wet gasp. Yoongi shoved the items back towards Hoseok, hands trembling violently enough to have the younger staring.

Jimin let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to-”

“Please just take me home.” Yoongi begged, voice nearly gone.

They looked like they wanted to argue, to talk about it, but Yoongi was still crying and what were they supposed to do? Tell him no? They had no power to deny Yoongi anything, and so when Yoongi asked to go home, they took him home. When Yoongi asked them to be the ones to tell Taehyung he was leaving… they told Taehyung, so that Yoongi wouldn’t have to.

They apparently told him pretty quickly too, because Yoongi got a call from him just later that night, the sound of his phone rattling across the bedside table making his stomach sink.

He took one look at the name on the ID, saw that it was Tae, and buried himself into sleep.

<><><><><>

Yoongi can’t say he was surprised when Taehyung’s appearances in Hoseok’s apartment became scarcer and scarcer after that.

He’d seen the younger once since accepting his new job, all seven of them going out at Seokjin’s request (more like desperate attempt) to get together before final exams, but Taehyung had seemed to lag behind every time Yoongi tried to get close, sticking with Jimin and Hoseok, and Yoongi had been too busy sulking to try and confront him about it.

At first, it had really bothered Yoongi. As if the set of normalities in his life weren’t already fucked up enough, suddenly Taehyung was ignoring his very existence like the plague, and on a good day Yoongi was willing to get out of bed to go to class and that was it. But then the time stretched on, the distance continued for a third week, and it didn’t make Yoongi curl into himself in the way that he thought.

It just pissed him the fuck off.

He understood that Taehyung probably felt the same way. He understood that him having to leave his friends for a job wasn’t… ideal, and that sending Jimin and Hoseok to give Tae the news had probably been the worst thing he could’ve done. But, but, at the same time, Yoongi didn’t owe Taehyung anything, much less an explanation, and there was only a matter of time before his silence towards Yoongi became completely infuriating.

Yoongi wanted to talk to Jimin about it, knowing he’d probably have some sort of idea as to why Taehyung had dropped off the face of the earth, but Yoongi was also slightly terrified of how Jimin would react. If Tae had been bitching to Jimin just as much as Yoongi had to Namjoon lately, then that entire conversation could go very badly, very quickly.

So, he couldn’t talk to Jimin. He had no plans to text Taehyung and not receive a response again, or show up at Hoseok’s apartment expecting Taehyung to waltz through the door like everything was fine. That meant Yoongi had no idea where Taehyung was, when he’d be home, and how he was supposed to talk to him.

Except...

He knew when he had his painting class. He knew because Taehyung never stopped talking about it. He knew because Yoongi had met him in front of the art building before, during some random winter day when Yoongi had been freezing his ass off waiting for him with a cup of coffee. He knew because he couldn’t forget the way Taehyung had smiled at him as he walked down the building's front steps, greeting Yoongi with a hug and a squeeze to the back of the neck like they were a couple and it was perfectly okay to do that.

It was on a Thursday in the beginning of May that Yoongi showed up outside the major arts building to wait for Taehyung. He didn’t have a plan, even though he probably should have, but he decided that the entire exchange could go one of two ways:

This was what Yoongi wrote down in his journal in a rush of panic while standing outside the university. This was what Yoongi contemplated to the smallest detail as he waited in the warmth of spring.

He thought about different options (there weren’t any), the probability of him coming out of there not wanting to die (incredibly low), agonized over every factor and possible fault all the way up until Taehyung was actually standing in front of him...

Yoongi startled abruptly, shoving his journal back into his bag before jerking his head up to stare at the younger.

How long had Taehyung been standing in front of him?

“What are you doing here, hyung?” He asked, looking uncertain of himself.

Yoongi searched desperately for any give away in his voice that told him to fuck off, told him to cut his losses, told him to stay- but Taehyung was a closed book and that terrified Yoongi more than anything.

There was no subtle raise to his lips, or crinkle around his eyes. He didn’t look upset, not exactly, but his emotions were well in check rather than splattered all over the place and the way he looked at Yoongi was similar to the way you’d look at someone you’ve never seen before in your entire life.

He was not happy to see Yoongi.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

It came out like vomit, like a splash of paint on a canvas or a dropped soda cup in the middle of a parking lot. The words were sudden, uncontrolled, launched in every direction imaginable and Taehyung turned to them as though he’d been hit, chilled expression wavering as his gaze narrowed.

“What?”

Yoongi couldn’t take the confusion in his tone. The blatant cluelessness. It was obvious Yoongi fucked up somewhere, so why avoid it?

“Could you not lie to me right now? Can we please just… fucking skip that part?” Yoongi gritted, choking on the heat of it on his tongue, the rush of emotions pooling in his chest.

“Me,” Tae said sharply, face furious. “I’m the liar.”

Yoongi shook his head, struck with a jolt of sadness. “I never lied to you.”

“Yeah, you just told everyone you were planning on leaving except for me. That’s great.”

“You found out didn’t you?”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Taehyung screamed miserably, inflamed with an anger Yoongi had never seen before, had never thought possible on the younger’s kind features, and yet there they were, catching fire in the sunlight.

If there hadn’t been people aware of their arguing before, there definitely was now. Yoongi glanced nervously at the groups of students still lingering by the entrance, suddenly engrossed in the two men’s conversation. Yoongi didn’t blame them honestly. If he saw someone as gentle as Taehyung blow up out of nowhere, he’d stop to watch the phenomenon too.

It was like witnessing a train crash, or a race car explode. It was gut wrenching, and ugly, and it left an unshakable feeling of sorrow in Yoongi’s lungs long after he grabbed Taehyung by the wrist and dragged him away from their audience, but an explosion was an explosion and humans had always been drawn to light.

Yoongi had just never had to see Taehyung angry to be drawn towards his.

He could tell the younger was dragging his feet as they walked, refusing in a way he never did when Yoongi touched him. Yoongi pulled at his arm more insistently, trying not to be pained by something so small. He wasn’t sure it worked, but he continued anyway until they were standing off to the side by a line of trees that separated the art building from another one directly beside it.

It wasn’t as private as Yoongi would have liked, but their conversation turning angry wasn’t something he’d prepared himself for either.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” He asked calmly, trying to gain back some sort of clarity between them, but something in Taehyung had already snapped the moment he saw Yoongi waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and Yoongi wasn’t sure it was repairable.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Tae said, in a complete daze now, eyes unfocused, face flushed. He looked sick, like something had dove into his skin and shredded up his insides, made it impossible for him to look at Yoongi without wanting to back away.

Yoongi wasn’t sure he heard his own voice when he asked, “doing what?”

“This.” The boy whimpered, gesturing between them, and Yoongi felt his heart crack right then and there, splitting apart like worn thread. “Fucking. It’s not... it’s not good anymore.” He paled instantly at his own choice in words, face flashing with guilt. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?” He looked at Taehyung without a hint of remorse, without a single care as to how he came across, how his feelings shaped his face, and it was probably the most honest thing he’d ever done.

Letting himself go like that. Allowing Taehyung to see just how much of an effect he had on him, how his words could make him cry and his voice could make him wither. Yoongi was feeling so much, too much, but that’s how he’d always felt around Taehyung. That’s what he’d learned to live with.

Taehyung visibly crumbled. “Yoongi, god, don’t- don’t fucking look at me like that.”

“Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean we have to stop. We still have a few weeks.” He tried to reason, but even he could hear how desperate he sounded, how his logic shriveled and fell apart the second the words left his mouth.

“That’s never gonna work, hyung.” Tae said.

And then, because Yoongi was hurting, had been hurting since the moment Taehyung had decided that Yoongi was worth more than a one night stand, he felt jealousy sink it’s way into the front of his mind where his tongue couldn’t resist speaking up.

“Are you back fucking Jimin or something?”

“Hey!” Taehyung veered, his entire attitude flickering darkly. “This has nothing to do with him. It happened once and it meant nothing, I told you that. I didn’t know you’d think I’d be the type of asshole to try and get between my best friends.”

Yoongi didn’t know what he thought anymore. The months of desperate pining and mixed signals seemed to have really fucked with his head, because at that point Yoongi didn’t know what Taehyung was capable of, what he wanted from anyone.

Yoongi just kept talking.

“Then what, huh? Fucking enlighten me, because you seem to have plenty on your mind.”

“Nothing went wrong!” Taehyung demanded, hardly making any sense. “It’s not- I just- this isn’t my fault!”

Yoongi’s laugh could have cut through steel just as easily as it seemed to cut through Taehyung. “Oh, so it’s mine.”

“Yes! It is!” Tae admitted with great struggle, a shake to his voice. “You’re the one that made this into something it isn’t. It was just sex and it should’ve stayed that way! I was fine with being your friend, but then you-”

“You’re blaming me for this?” Yoongi heaved, flaring up with anger because that was the only way to keep the hurt down. The chest seizing agony that was currently running rampant through his body at Taehyung’s words, at the very truth he’d been dreading.

“You’re too fucking obvious, hyung.” The younger boy conceded softly, pretty eyes encased with pain, and if Yoongi hadn’t known any better he might have thought Tae even looked sorry for him. “You have feelings for me and I… I don’t have time for that right now.”

Yoongi’s world was collapsing around him. Everything that had felt even remotely stable just days before becoming nothing but ruble.

Yoongi could hardly breathe. “What the fuck does that even mean?! You’re the one who-”

Who bought me breakfast and gave me flowers and drew me in secret. Who laughed with me and cried with me and took care of me when no one else would, when you could have just fucked me and ran- but you didn’t. You didn’t. Not like you used to. You’re the one who touches me like the world’s ending and I’m the only one you’ve ever wanted- and you can’t tell me that it was all for nothing. That none of it was real to you in the same way it was real to me.

Yoongi remembered all of it. Every moment Taehyung had given him. There was no way he couldn’t. His heart had held on to every fucking piece, it didn’t matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

But that didn’t seem to matter to Taehyung.

“I can’t start a goddamn relationship right now!” He hissed out miserably. “I’m still trying to put my life back together after the last asshole I dated, and you’re about to go away to start your perfect fucking life! I was fine with it when it was just sex, but it can’t turn into something more!”

Yoongi couldn’t remember ever feeling so hopeless in his life. Even more than the time he came home to find his mother throwing away his music lyrics. Or the winter during his senior year of high school when the old street piano he always played suddenly disappeared along with the closing of the antique store.

It was like a part of him was breaking. It had started a long time ago, just as tiny cracks, minuscule shifts, chipping away each and every time Taehyung slipped from his fingers, but now that piece was broken entirely. Gone. And Yoongi knew he’d expected this, never prepared himself for anything different, but for it to actually happen…

It took him getting his heart broken for Yoongi to realize he’d even had hope to begin with.

“You’re fucking delusional, you know that?” Yoongi snapped back suddenly, finding a surge of strength in his voice again when he noticed the tremble of Taehyung’s lower lip, the wetness in his eyes. He couldn’t fucking believe the man in front of him. “You’re crying. Why are you crying, Taehyung?” He taunted, wanting desperately for the younger’s tears to mean something, to give his hope a sense of stability, but Taehyung just seemed to freeze at the attention, eyes wide with tears. “If you feel like it’s becoming more than sex then it’s because it already has! It means that we’re both-”

“I’m not in love with you!” Taehyung shouted with finality, this horribly wretched sound that echoed through the trees and resounded back to Yoongi who flinched back in horror, eyes impossibly wide. Something seemed to melt back into Taehyung then, some sort of remorse, regret even, but Yoongi wasn’t looking for anything to reel him back in anymore.

He needed to be alone.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered, the tears he’d been holding back so intently spilling down across his cheeks without caution. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m sorry-”

“Still think I’m the asshole?” Yoongi asked him, ignoring the hand he was offered, the apology that was thrown his way.

He turned around before he could get the idea to forgive him.

<><><><><>

It happened over time, gradually, less and less, but it did still happen: Yoongi stopped making lists.

Not because he didn’t want to, or because his insides stopped screaming at him to do something with the constant anxiety pooling in his veins. Yoongi had plenty he wanted to write about, he was just scared of writing something that contradicted the rest of the pages, made every good thing he’s ever thought irrelevant just because he was fucking miserable.

He didn’t want to fill Taehyung’s list with all the vicious things he’d been muttering under his breath the past week. He didn’t want to ruin his image of Tae, at least not on paper, and if that meant Yoongi still cared about the boy then so what? Yoongi wanted people to be able to look in his journal, read his scribbled nonsense and say that Kim Taehyung guy sounds nice, to which Yoongi would force a smile and think he is, to everyone but me.

Yoongi knew it was his only good way of coping, the only way that had proved to actually work in the past, but he couldn’t risk fucking that part of his life up as well. Making lists was supposed to make him feel better, not add fuel to the fire that was trying to tear him down.

With only a few weeks left of school, and his first day as a new producer right after graduation, Yoongi threw himself across the finish line, devouring study guides and instant coffee just to make it through his finals unscathed. Over the course of those seven days, Yoongi didn’t leave the apartment unless he was on his way to class, and even then he was leaving at the last possible second, sprinting to class wearing a hoodie in the middle of spring, the skin beneath his eyes becoming purple with exhaustion.

He looked fucking terrible according to Seokjin, and Seokjin was usually right so Yoongi did his best to push through those last days with as little attention as possible, hoping no one could tell how ripped apart he actually was inside, hazardously stitched together just for the function of walking.

Jin and Namjoon did their best to be there for Yoongi, neither of them asking for an explanation but probably assuming right anyway. It wasn’t that hard to guess that Yoongi’s downfall was related to Taehyung, no matter how pathetic it sounded. Yoongi thought most of their kindness was annoying, especially when they’d purposely leave the middle spot of the couch open just in case Yoongi wanted to be cuddled, but they were also the only people Yoongi hadn’t completely shut out since his fight with Tae, and so he tried not to be too annoyed.

Now, if Yoongi’s honest, he felt bad.

The amount of unread text messages he had on his phone was record breaking. Never in his life had he been able to handle that many unresolved conversations. Hoseok was asking where the hell he was, Jeongguk was sending him shitty memes to try and make him laugh, all while Jimin was completely out of his mind with panic, asking Yoongi if he was okay, telling Yoongi he needed to talk to Taehyung.

It wasn’t a surprise that Tae had gone to Jimin about what had happened, but it still frustrated Yoongi. He didn’t want their friends knowing, it was embarrassing being the hopeless one in the equation, and that’s exactly what Yoongi was. He was the one who fell in love, who pushed the line. He couldn’t even talk to Namjoon and Seokjin about it so how come Taehyung got to have Jimin?

None of it made sense, everything fucking hurt.

Yoongi had always known that in the end, when the fantasy was over, getting over Taehyung was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. He just never thought it’d be impossible.

Yoongi did talk to Hoseok, once, after about four days of avoiding his existence. Not because he wanted to, but because Seokjin and Namjoon had failed to mention to Yoongi that Hoseok was dropping by the apartment, and he’d walked right in while Yoongi was laying on the living room floor eating ice cream.

Yoongi had felt too defeated at that moment to even bother making a break for his bedroom. “Well, shit.”

“Well fucking shit, indeed,” Hoseok snapped upon slamming the front door closed behind him. “Did you suddenly forget how to pick up the fucking phone, hyung?”

“We’re just gonna… leave you two alone.” Seokjin smiled awkwardly, hurriedly grabbing Namjoon by the arm to pull them out of the room.

“I’m eating the rest of the ice cream, fuckers!” Yoongi yelled bitterly, feeling somewhat betrayed by the situation he’d found himself in.

Hoseok let the apartment go quiet once Namjoon and Jin were gone, all the heat in his body from before slowly leaving. He looked more sad than anything, and Yoongi didn’t know how to look at him without wanting to collapse.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” He pressed, sounding annoyed, but it was impossible for Hoseok to mistake the tears in his friends eyes as anything but sorrow.

Hoseok offered Yoongi a small smile. “What flavor is that?” He asked, slowly maneuvering so that he was sitting beside Yoongi on the floor, still smiling even when the elder eyed him skeptically.

“S’not mint chocolate chip, that’s for fucking sure.” Yoongi mumbled around a mouthful, eyes crinkling ever so softly when Hoseok let out one of his sparkling giggles, the sound joyful enough to turn Yoongi’s shitty week into an okay one.

“I’m still waiting for the day that you don’t shit talk my preferences.” Hoseok said, wordlessly taking the spoon from Yoongi’s hand to get a bite of his own.

He made a show of eating the chocolate ice cream with distaste, disappointed in Yoongi’s choice of flavor. Yoongi snatched the spoon out of his mouth before he could bask in the joke for too long though, smirking when Hoseok’s teeth collided painfully against the metal.

“Liking mint chocolate chip is not a preference, it’s a sign from god to get some help.” Yoongi corrected.

They didn’t talk about Taehyung like Yoongi thought they would. Hoseok didn’t even mention him. They just continued on like that for hours, lounging around the living room with sticky hands and sugary smiles. Yoongi knew why Hoseok was there, why he had come over unannounced. Yoongi wasn’t clueless. But the words never left his mouth.

Forgive Taehyung, Yoongi imagined he wanted to say. Talk to him before it’s too late.

Yoongi thought he could see it on Hoseok’s face. The questions, the lectures, the strength it took within him not to just say all the shit he was dying to say. Hoseok wasn’t ever very good at lying, and Yoongi could see his inner turmoil, but even then he didn’t give in. He didn’t tell Hoseok what he wanted to hear, or offer him the floor to speak his mind, because truthfully, Yoongi didn’t want to hear any of it.

He didn’t want to know how upset or not upset Taehyung was, or be reminded how he had effectively managed to fuck up their entire friend group by catching feelings. The only thing he felt capable of doing was school, work, things that would propel him forward, not set him back, and Taehyung most certainly constituted the latter.

Yoongi had spent half a year worrying about what Taehyung thought of him, and he just couldn’t anymore.

His talk with Hoseok, in a way, helped Yoongi a lot more than it probably should’ve, considering they didn’t talk about anything important. The problem was still there, the tension bone deep, but Yoongi’s main issue going on a full week of shutdown mode had been loneliness, and it wasn’t until he’d spent a few hours with Hoseok that he realized just how much he missed his friends.

Talking to Hoseok while eating ice cream and staring out the window had been exactly what Yoongi needed, even if it left him in the same place he’d been; heartbroken.

By the last week of the semester, the end of college, Yoongi was actually feeling okay. Not good, not even normal but- okay. He could stand to stay out of his room for hours at a time without getting emotionally exhausted, and had even started eating dinner with Jin and Namjoon most nights.

It still hurt to think about Taehyung, the nights he’d spent in the younger boy’s sheets, wrapped up like something precious when really he wasn’t, but things were getting better. There was progress, somewhere. Or at least Yoongi had managed to convince himself that there was.

Which is why it really shouldn’t have surprised Yoongi that it was then that Taehyung tried to weasel his way back into his life, random and unadulterated by calling Yoongi in the middle of a thunderstorm the night before he was supposed to graduate and leave, because Taehyung had a tendency to fuck his life up when he least expected him to, and Yoongi had really never learned how to adjust.

It was Yoongi’s mistake that he didn’t bother checking his phone before answering with a grumble.

“Hey, hyung.” Two words, and Yoongi was sitting up in bed in an instant, chest turning hollow. Twenty-three days. He’d gone twenty-three days without hearing that voice. “Yoongi?”

When Yoongi breathed, he could’ve sworn he could hear his lungs sing like an empty tree, his insides creaking around the rush of air. He didn’t know how to feel, what to do, and maybe it was shock or fear or something worse- but for a blissful moment Yoongi felt nothing.

He stared at a spot on the wall of his bedroom. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Tae let out a breath, the relief in it making Yoongi’s heart stutter. “God, it’s good to hear your voice.”

Yoongi swallowed thickly, eyes flickering around his room as though that would help him figure out what to say. “What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Yoongi didn’t mean to, but he immediately thought of the many reasons why Taehyung probably couldn’t sleep. Yoongi knew he’d written them down at some point, Taehyung’s bizarre sleep requirements. He was like a toddler, unable to fall asleep unless he was cuddling something, the room was at least below 75 degrees, and he had a fan pointing directly at him.

See, it was things like that that Yoongi couldn’t get over. The little things, the strange things, the things that were so inexplicably uniquely Taehyung. He had peculiar habits, questionable passions, and a way of life that just made heads turn, and that was what Yoongi adored. That’s the person Yoongi fell in love with.

Taehyung made Yoongi feel like being different was better than being ordinary, and that was something nobody else had ever been able to give him.

“Why not?” Yoongi asked him, waiting for his assumptions to be proven right.

Taehyung’s smile was practically audible. “I really want waffles.”

“Gross.” Yoongi quipped instantly, lips twitching hesitantly when he heard Tae laugh deeply on the other end. A silence fell between them, the weight of it unavoidable. “What do you want, Taehyung?”

“I just-” Taehyung stopped abruptly, the strain in his voice appearing so suddenly that Yoongi felt a pang in his chest. “I just thought about you.”

Yoongi scowled in the darkness. “You thought about me.”

“All of these waffle cravings and I thought about you, yeah. You are your stupid hate for waffles.” Taehyung laughed, but there were tears somewhere in it, a chortled wetness that completely dampened the usual beauty of the sound.

Yoongi felt his own eyes begin to water.

“You can’t do shit like this, Tae.” He whispered, pressing a hand to his chest as though the pressure would relieve the pain he felt there. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t mean to-”

“It’s selfish.” Yoongi said, tone more cold than he’d intended. He exhaled shakily, desperately hoping Taehyung couldn’t hear the ache in it. “You’re being fucking selfish right now. Calling me in the middle of the night like this.”

“I know.” He breathed, wistful and sad. He sounded every bit as mournful as the patter of rain outside, the dark rumble of thunder. “Fuck, I know. But that’s just it, isn’t it? You make me do crazy shit, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi didn’t know what to say to that, but Taehyung had a tendency to disappoint Yoongi and so the elder didn’t let his thoughts over it wander.

He looked at his bedside clock tiredly, eyes closing with dread. “I have to get up early in the morning. I need to go back to sleep.”

“Are you really leaving tomorrow?” Taehyung breathed, sniffling with a croak to his voice, and Yoongi didn’t understand anything.

Didn’t understand how Taehyung could go from screaming in his face to crying about him leaving, how disgust could turn into sadness just like that- and how Taehyung’s emotions were like a goddamn death wheel, spinning round and round just to land on the most random feeling.

Yoongi didn’t understand how he could be so unlucky, why the world was out to get him, because there Taehyung was calling the night before graduation with his voice distraught and his heart peeled open, and Yoongi wanted to believe so fucking badly that everything Taehyung had said outside the art building was a lie. That the tears in his eyes then had meant something else too, but how was Yoongi supposed to know?

How was Yoongi supposed to interpret any of it?

“What kind of question is that?” He asked, wanting to understand, but Taehyung just let out a frazzled sigh that Yoongi knew wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

Yoongi felt the second his hand around the phone began to tremble. “Tae-”

“Because I’d get it,” Taehyung gritted, laughing morbidly. “I’d understand.”

“I’m still gonna come back and visit as often as I can. I’m not just gonna abandon my friends.” Yoongi explained vaguely, not sure whether a blatant yes or no was in order.

He didn’t know if he was going to see Taehyung again. He wanted to, just like he wanted to have Taehyung in his bed every morning, every night, where he could shower him with kisses and hear his sugary sweet laugh against his ear, but what he wanted and what he needed were vast in comparison, and Yoongi didn’t have much room to object, because what he needed was for Taehyung to get as far away from him as possible.

To get away from Yoongi’s heart where he often resided unannounced. Yoongi needed to learn not only how to survive without Taehyung, but how to live without his smiles, without his jokes and his giddiness and his laughter, and the only way he could really do that was to keep his distance.

But then Taehyung, ever the lover, ever the master of fucking up everything Yoongi believed in, made a helpless sound that nearly killed Yoongi through the phone, heart caving as Taehyung’s pain- pain Yoongi couldn’t even begin to describe- came charging right at him as though the rush of it had been being held back by nothing but plastic dividers.

“I’ll miss you.” The boy sobbed, so raw, so honest, that Yoongi forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Taehyung so clearly as he did right then, and while Yoongi had wished for that moment countless nights, wanting the truth, wanting some semblance of love rather than attachment, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t take it. He didn’t know what to do with Taehyung’s sincerity.

It wasn’t freeing like he thought it would be, or even relieving. It was terrifying, rattling Yoongi to the very core, because he knew what that meant. He knew he was a step away from forgiving Taehyung, falling for him helplessly again, letting himself love with the impression that there was a possibility that he was loved back, and he just couldn’t.

“Goodnight, Tae.” He said, doing what he needed to, even when it hurt.

Taehyung inhaled desperately. “Hyung-”

Yoongi ended the call before he could hear anymore, going against his own heart so violently that he collapsed back into his bed the moment he was flooded with silence once again, a painstaking loneliness creeping up his spine. He wanted to cry, but there was something missing that Yoongi couldn’t exactly pinpoint, a feeling that was either no longer there, or heightened to the point where Yoongi couldn’t tell any difference, and it made crying feel impossible.

He had hoped there would be a big change. Some epiphany that would wash over him in that moment, a voice that would say I’m finally free, but instead he just felt even more confused than before, ripped apart from a life he once lived, a life he wanted back.

A life when he’d been able to love Taehyung silently, deeply, from a distance, and take the pain that came with it. Yoongi wished he could just take the pain.

His phone started ringing again before too long, loud and persistent while Yoongi stared at it from the palm of his hand, unblinking. Yoongi doesn’t know how many times he let Taehyung call him, the sight of his phone screen flashing in the dark reminding him of Taehyung himself.

Too bright, too loud. Too much.

But then the ringing stopped, the apartment got quiet, and Yoongi was able to hear the knock at his front door immediately, with a startlingly clearness that made him scramble out of bed with his heartbeat pounding away in his ears.

His bare feet slapped across the hardwood as he stomped to the door, brutal and threatening, but he didn’t really know whether he was mad or relieved or what until he opened the door and found a sopping wet Taehyung standing in front of him, wide eyes growing wider when they landed on Yoongi.

Not mad. He wasn’t mad.

“I’m supposed to be the batshit crazy one, asshole.” Yoongi said, shrinking on instinct. He hadn’t seen Taehyung since their fight, and he’d almost forgotten just how intimidating he was. How the very sight of him made Yoongi burn from the inside out. He looked up expectedly when the younger didn’t respond, head tilting. “Taehyung?”

And then Yoongi saw it. The pained lines around his eyes, the tremble in his chin and tears on his cheeks that were no longer capable of being mistaken for rain. Yoongi could really see how Taehyung felt, not because of the dip of his voice through a phone but because of the whiteness in his skin, the longing on his face. Yoongi could see because Taehyung was finally letting him see, and Yoongi couldn’t fucking believe it.

“I lied.” Tae whimpered, shivering so violently that that was all Yoongi could focus on for a moment, eyes raking over how disheveled the boy looked. Taehyung wiped a hand across his forehead anxiously, brushing back a mop of wet bangs that came back to hang over his eyes the second he moved his hand. “I’m the biggest fucking liar, hyung.”

Yoongi looked behind him nervously, half expecting one of his roommates to hear the commotion and come out any second. This idea bothered him. It bothered him a lot, and he couldn’t understand why. It could have had something to do with the way Taehyung was acting, so vulnerable and exposed, barely hanging on to his own voice. It made Yoongi want to protect him, hold onto him, not let anyone else see him so openly- but Yoongi knew that wasn’t why. That wasn’t it.

There was something else.

Yoongi sighed quietly, fingers curling around the edge of the door. “What do you-”

“And it’s not fair to you,” Tae continued mindlessly, breathless despite only having started speaking. “That I lied, that I’ve been lying this entire time. I was just scared. I was so scared, Yoongi. I was comparing you to someone who hurt me and that wasn’t fucking right.”

Hope. What Yoongi had felt was hope- and he didn’t want Namjoon or Jin coming in and ruining it, whether that be by stabbing Taehyung for hurting their best friend or encouraging their reunion to continue. For the first time ever Yoongi wasn’t petrified by the thought of believing, hoping, yearning, because even though he’d been buried deep in grief just minutes before, certain of his love for Taehyung staying unreturned, things were changing.

Taehyung was changing. He was pushing himself to stand in front of Yoongi and admit that he’d been wrong, that there was something worth apologizing for, and even without a love confession, Yoongi knew.

Maybe he sort of always had.

“Jimin kept trying to tell me how horrible it was. How selfish I was, but I just didn’t listen. I kept pushing and- and taking what I wanted even when I knew how you felt, and knew how I felt, and knew that I was gonna fucking crash because I couldn’t have stayed friends with you even if I tried.” He heaved, completely on autopilot at that point, treading through the confinements of his own heart like a madman. Taehyung let out a stupid laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying, his flash of a smile nothing but pain. “Even if I hadn’t met you in the middle of the fucking night first semester, when you were stupid drunk and drinking coffee out of a bowl. A bowl, hyung. You were ridiculous and I couldn’t stay away- and I’m sorry.”

Yoongi didn’t understand how he was still standing there. How he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the floor yet with the way his face was heating up, chest blooming as his mind went all woozy. It was a phenomenon really, the way he managed to keep calm even after so long of wanting and waiting and waiting some more.

Taehyung closed his eyes tightly, a new wave of tears beginning to boil even as Yoongi looked at him without a hint of blame left. There was still so much regret there, so much built up shame and remorse that he didn’t even know how to apologize for, but Taehyung should have known better honestly.

It was never going to take much for Yoongi to forgive the person he loved most.

Still though, Taehyung tried and tried and just kept trying, rambling on until he was hardly even coherent. “Sorry for making you think I didn’t care. That I was okay with you leaving, and okay with hurting you just because I didn’t want to admit that I was in love with you. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and if I could take it all back I would. If I could take back the stupid fight we had and just tell you how I-”

Taehyung didn’t know what the right words to say were. Yoongi understood that. He didn’t know what they were either, but that was okay, and they were okay, and somehow, with the way Yoongi pulled at Tae’s wet sleeve to usher him inside, dragging him into a kiss that felt just as necessary as air, Yoongi didn’t think they needed words at all.

They never had. Yoongi could tell how Taehyung felt about him just by the way he whimpered into the kiss, the contact alone leaving him weak and soft in Yoongi’s arms as the elder kicked the door closed behind them. Yoongi could tell that Taehyung’s words had been true just by the way he reached for Yoongi’s face first rather than his waist, rather than his ass, touching so gently that Yoongi had to stop his course of leading them to his bedroom, heart too close to bursting.

“You love me?” He breathed out when they finally broke apart, the two of them appearing as nothing but conjoined shadows in the black of the hallway. Yoongi’s smile was face splitting, rising so suddenly that he couldn’t help the way his eyes glazed over as well. “You love me, Taehyung-ie?”

And Taehyung, who hadn’t stopped shaking since the second he saw Yoongi after weeks of uncertainty, smiled back with a fondness that made Yoongi ache and burn and heal all at once. Taehyung pressed a kiss to the crest of Yoongi’s cheek, lips lingering, and it wasn’t anything new of course, but it was different. God it was different.

“For a long time. Maybe the whole time.” Tae admitted, his words sounding impossible even as he dipped down to kiss Yoongi again, proving everything he’d been too afraid to voice before.

Yoongi leaned into him effortlessly, hands falling to the younger’s waist. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think I was ready after my last relationship. I never lied about that. But then we started sleeping together, and you fucked me over. Literally.” Taehyung said, earning a shy giggle from Yoongi that he watched shape the elder’s face adoringly, lips immediately flocking to the laughing lines beside Yoongi’s eyes, the blush on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi offered.

Taehyung grinned knowingly. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Yoongi laughed again despite himself, trying to be quiet, but he was much too happy to care if his efforts really worked.

Yoongi wasn’t sure who leaned back in first, but their next kiss was more impatient than anything. The shock was wearing off, the stomach fluttering bashfulness going along with it, and now all Yoongi could focus on was Taehyung towering above him, how he felt pressed flush against him, caging him to the wall. Yoongi had been doing his best to not think of Taehyung, to forget about the wideness of his hands, the lean muscles of his chest and legs, but now it was all he could focus on, all he could feel as Taehyung kissed him deeply.

His head was buzzing and his heart was throbbing but there wasn’t a single solution for any of it. He wanted so many things. He wanted to keep kissing Taehyung just like that, desperate and loving with heat circling between them, but he also wanted to touch him. Take him to bed where he wouldn’t have to hide his eyes, restrain himself from muttering all the emotional obscenities that had almost slipped from his lips countless times before when Taehyung had his mouth on him, had Yoongi sprawled out beneath him.

Yoongi couldn’t help but whimper when he felt Tae roll forward against his thigh, hands gripping the fabric over Yoongi’s chest like he didn’t know what to do with himself, overwhelmed and panting through his nose. They couldn’t get enough of each other.

Yoongi tried to pull away, noticing how breathless Taehyung was, but the second they split apart the younger made this petulant little whine that made Yoongi’s stomach cave as he was dragged into another kiss, this one making his cock stir in his pants as Taehyung continued to grind forward against his leg.

“Fuck, Taehyung-ah.” Yoongi breathed, grunting as he was forced back against the wall again, this time being held there by the shoulders as Taehyung attacked the front of his throat.

His tongue ran rampant once let loose, determined to leave marks, and Yoongi swore at the realization, fully hard now and shivering as Taehyung’s wet fingers dug into his skin.

“I know I had said it was casual from the beginning, but even when I knew things were different I was scared to bring it up because what we had was good,” Tae said suddenly, words quiet but sharp, forcing Yoongi to blink dazedly in an attempt to focus. “It was so good, Yoongi, but now you’re leaving,” His shoulders fell abruptly, a pained tremble working its way through his body. “Fuck, you’re-”

“Can we have this?” Yoongi gritted, voice ripped apart and drowned with sadness. Taehyung pulled away to look at him, brow furrowed dejectedly. “Please? Can we not talk about that right now?”

Yoongi knew ignoring the problem wasn’t the best decision they could’ve made. If they were going to try for some sort of relationship then Yoongi moving was definitely going to create some issues, but that conversation would have taken the kind of strength Yoongi didn’t have at that moment, and Taehyung must have known that. He must have, because his features softened with understanding, eyes free of judgement as he cupped Yoongi’s cheek and felt the elder melt into him.

“Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He said, forcing the thoughts away himself, the inevitability that after tonight, after all the forgiving and confessing that things weren’t going to change as much as he’d hoped.

Yoongi was still going to leave.

They held hands as they walked to Yoongi’s bedroom, the two of them moving around each other almost like a dance, smiling, eyes glittering, but it felt a little sad. It all felt a little sad.

“Were you here the whole time?” Yoongi asked once they were settled on the bed, both of them sitting up on their knees, facing each other.

“Yes,” He said sheepishly, turning a glorious pink. “But I wanted to call first.”

Yoongi squinted at him. “That’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic.” Tae corrected with a playful defensiveness.

“You’re wet.” Yoongi laughed, reaching down and pulling Taehyung’s shirt over his head.

The younger gasped when his damp skin met the cold air, chest bristling enough to have him instinctively bringing his arms to cover himself. Yoongi smiled adoringly at him, no longer trying to hide how endearing he thought the boy was, every word and childish antic making his stomach turn warm.

“Cold too, couldn’t find an umbrella, but that’s not important.” Taehyung waved off with a timid smile, reaching for Yoongi gingerly, cold hands slipping beneath the smaller man’s shirt.

Yoongi looked at him carefully, curious, before letting out an incredulous giggle on his way to touch the boy’s face. “Are you still crying?”

There was no real point in asking, Yoongi could see the shine in Taehyung’s eyes clearly, the waver in his features that showed how he was forcing himself to hold back, eyelids nearly overflowing. Yoongi thought it was both funny and beautiful, still so amazed at seeing Taehyung’s emotions so clearly, his emotions for Yoongi especially, but the younger seemed to take offense because he didn’t hesitate to tackle Yoongi back into the bed with an embarrassed shout.

“Would you shut up? Jesus, I’m trying to do something here.” He growled, flustered at being called out, but Yoongi’s crazed giggling affected him more than he expected, and his annoyance was gone in a second, replaced with this lost sort of awe filled look that Yoongi blinked up at expectedly, witnessing the beginning of a violent blush on Tae’s cheeks. “Fuck, I had a script. There was a script… why can’t I remember the-”

“Taehyung.” Yoongi laughed, stopping the dark haired boy’s panic with a simple touch to his cheek. “There’s literally nothing you could say to make this any better for me. I already love you. You don’t have to convince me.”

Taehyung frowned deeply. “But I do. I have to convince you that I love you.” He said guiltily, the sudden worry lines in his face moving beneath Yoongi’s hand. “I let you think I didn’t feel the same way for so long, I- I let you-”

“Then show me.” Yoongi interrupted, surprised by the calmness in his own voice, the lack of anything but forgiveness and want. “Please just show me, Tae.”

Taehyung seemed frozen at that, shocked at being given permission, because even though Yoongi had kissed him and accepted him and pulled them to bed, a part of him had still believed he’d never be let in again. That there would still be too much pain, too much guilt, that it didn’t matter what he did, he’d never deserve to get a spot in Yoongi’s heart or his bed again.

But then Yoongi leaned forward, forward, until their foreheads were touching and their lips were brushing and he was close enough for Taehyung to shiver when he said, “it’s okay, I love you… I love you, it’s okay.”

Taehyung didn’t stop moving after that. It happened quickly, desperately, Yoongi falling back against the mattress as Taehyung settled on top of him, pushing his legs apart, biting the line of his jaw. Yoongi had convinced him it was okay, just like Taehyung had convinced Yoongi he loved him, and maybe this was part of the convincing too. The way they fell into each other after it was all done, all out in the open, shedding clothes and qualms and insecurities all at once.

Yoongi was in tears practically the whole time Taehyung fingered him open, the slow drag of his fingers and desire on his face too much, too good. Taehyung teased him about the tears, much in the same way Yoongi had about his own, but there was a glaze to Taehyung’s eyes as well that had never fully gone away, and eventually it became something they accepted without question, just another thing that proved how much this meant to them.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this?” Taehyung asked breathlessly, curling three fingers right against Yoongi’s prostate to watch the way his body jolted upwards with a moan. “I can’t tell you how many times I almost told you how I felt. I thought about it all the time, but when I would fuck you it just… god, it was overwhelming.”

“Should’ve,” Yoongi mumbled, squirming as his breath hitched. He was holding his knees up for Tae, completely exposed in the best way. Taehyung kissed his cheek comfortingly. “You should’ve…”

“I know.” Tae sighed.

Things wouldn’t go back to normal, Yoongi decided. Mostly because what they had had never been normal to begin with, but also because it was hard to forget what those six months of torture had felt like. Yoongi had forgiven Taehyung, truly, honestly, wholly, but those nights of uncertainty, of crying over not getting kissed goodnight, of lying to his friends about feeling like shit, they were real and they were permanent and Yoongi was going to remember them for a long time.

Yoongi didn’t want to remember them. He didn’t want to hold on. But that was the truth, that was reality, and it hurt. It was going to hurt some more, but in the future, when Yoongi slips up (because he will) and starts to question all the things Taehyung had spent the last hour whispering in his ear, it was going to be Taehyung that brought him back. Taehyung who proved himself again, who reassured Yoongi of all the things he did or didn’t believe- and that was all Yoongi really needed.

Someone to be there and tell him that they cared.

“Do we need a condom?” Tae asked, finally taking off his damp pants once he thought Yoongi was stretched enough.

Yoongi stared at him, suddenly nervous. They had gone without a condom before. That day was pretty hard to forget after all, Yoongi coming home from Christmas break to find Taehyung waiting for him, wanting him, always wanting him- and missing Yoongi so badly that he had wanted to feel more than he’d ever been willing to ask for.

It would be fucked up for Yoongi to not allow Taehyung the same thing, to not let him feel Yoongi all around him until the very end, but Yoongi was just as anxious as he was careful, and he knew Taehyung loved him but what about the weeks of silence? What if Taehyung had confided in someone other than Jimin? What if…

“Did you-” Yoongi swallowed nervously, tension settling in his eyebrows. It felt like his heart was being pulled in every direction imaginable. “Did you… when we weren’t talking, did you-”

“No,” Taehyung said the moment he realized. “I wasn’t with anyone else, Yoongi.”

The elder felt his entire body sag with reassurance, a sigh leaving him. The relief was overwhelming, rushing through him, and Yoongi hadn’t thought he’d really been that worried but apparently that was far from the truth. He was so fucking happy.

“Thank fuck.” He breathed, smiling up at the ceiling when Taehyung chuckled at his reaction.

“I was a mess, hyung. I probably wouldn’t have even been able to get it up.”

“It looks like it’s working fine to me.” Yoongi grinned, rubbing the flat of his hand over Taehyung’s bulge, the shape of him twitching at the attention.

“You fixed me!” Taehyung exclaimed happily, diving for Yoongi’s neck to plant an array of messy kisses there, and Yoongi squealed uncontrollably, high pitched and adorable as he pawed at Tae’s arms, kicked his feet outwards.

Yoongi eventually crawled his way out from underneath Taehyung, breathing hard and smiling like an idiot, cheeks a light pink that matched perfectly with the violent splotches of red across his neck and chest.

Taehyung really hadn’t gone easy on him.

“Possessive much?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at him, stretching to see himself through the mirror on his dresser, the marks on his neck bright against his pale skin.

“Very.” Tae said, brushing his fingers over Yoongi’s throat.

Yoongi hummed, gut stirring with interest, cock leaking across the younger’s stomach. “I like that.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah.” Yoongi said, crawling his way down Taehyung’s body, pulling his underwear off in the process.

Yoongi made a show of biting Taehyung’s thighs, licking a trail from his abdomen down until taking him in his mouth, moaning at the sound Taehyung made. It was mostly for payback, wanting to show a bit of possessiveness himself, almost fighting Tae for dominance in a way, but they both knew who it was that wanted to be fucked, and Yoongi doing his best to suck Taehyung’s cock with his back arched and his eyes lidded made the answer fairly obvious.

Taehyung gasped and reached down to grab a hold of Yoongi’s mint hair when the warmth building in his stomach starting to become impossible to ignore, rolling through an excursion of moans and whimpers, some loud, some soft and chipped at the end like it physically hurt him to let them free.

He dragged his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, panting. “Is this a bad time to mention that I almost busted a nut when I first saw you with this hair?”

Yoongi’s chest expanded with a laugh before he could stop himself, throat closing, and he pulled up for air just in time to start coughing his lungs out.

He brought a hand up to his throat with watery eyes. “The fuck, Tae? Do you want me to choke on your dick?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I mean…”

“Asshole.” Yoongi laughed thickly, rolling his way over onto his back and watching in amusement as Taehyung immediately followed, taking his place between Yoongi’s legs.

He pecked Yoongi on the lips quick enough to have the elder’s eyes crossing. “My name’s Taehyung actually.”

Yoongi smiled. “Really? I couldn’t recall.”

“You will, just give me a second.” Taehyung smirked, scooting closer, ignoring Yoongi’s obvious confusion.

He didn’t let his bewilderment simmer though, instead deciding to prove his point already by spreading Yoongi’s legs open and pressing against his hole. He slowly rocked his hips forward before Yoongi could even take a breath.

“Shit, Taehyung.” Yoongi gasped, wrapping his leg around Tae’s waist, pulling him forward again, making him sink deeper inside of him.

“I told you.” Taehyung snickered.

“Move you idiot.” Yoongi groaned, suddenly sick of the teasing, the slowness of it all.

He’d been waiting so long to get this chance. To have Taehyung here, with him, like this, without any lies or unspoken truths. To be able to look Taehyung in the eyes and think I’m so in love with him without feeling an immediate punch of guilt. This was what he wanted, more than anything, and he needed it now.

“Okay,” Taehyung breathed, gathering himself, still half hysterical but mostly just amazed. Yoongi moaned. “Fuck, okay.”

It became real when they started moving. The distorted ripple of it all calming down into this drowning heat, this soothing warmth, like a fire burning just from embers alone. It wasn’t anything different from what they’d done before, nothing new to Yoongi’s body who took him in easily, jolted with every touch, but the air was clear and everything about it felt stronger, more intense than Yoongi ever imagined.

Yoongi looked up at Taehyung, looked up at him with a haze in his eyes, blush in his cheeks, and it was so strange knowing that he knew but it made Yoongi practically cry out in relief as the younger fucked him with shaky arms, trembling legs.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi grabbed at his shoulder gently, urging him to slow down. “If it’s too much-”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tae said thickly, sitting back on his knees with a twinge in his features that immediately made Yoongi reach out, palm settling over his chest where he felt Taehyung’s heart pounding frantically. “I’m just, I can’t even- this is so-”

“I know,” Yoongi soothed, reacting quickly to the fresh tears he saw swelling in Tae’s eyes, thumbs brushing beneath his eyelids. “I know, it’s a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung whispered.

“Don’t be.” Yoongi said.

He didn’t need to have sex with Taehyung to believe what he’d said was true, and he made no show of thinking as much, but when Yoongi expected Taehyung to pull out of him, make some sort of move to stop things, instead he seemed to drift closer, leaning over Yoongi as he focused on breathing. He was still fully hard, seated inside Yoongi, and his hands were placed firmly on the elder’s hips like he didn’t want him to go anywhere.

Yoongi slid a hand back into the boy’s hair, the strands still wet with rain. “Taehyung?”

“I just need a minute.” He insisted, flashing a smile that was meant to be reassuring but mostly just came off as panicked, and Yoongi’s heart soared.

Never in a million years did he think Taehyung would be the type to get so emotional during sex. That somewhere in that heart of his he cared enough about Yoongi that he thought he’d somehow mess this up.

“Roll over, baby.”

Taehyung blinked down at him. “What?”

“I’m gonna ride you instead.”

“But, I wanted to do this for you.” He pouted, crestfallen, and usually Yoongi would have given in with such a sad expression, but the thought of Taehyung not getting to do this just because he felt the need to prove something made Yoongi push forward.

He kissed the younger’s disappointment away with a roll of his tongue, pressing their faces together and flipping them over before Tae could argue anymore.

“You don’t owe me anything, Tae.” He said with a sigh, breath catching when Taehyung’s large hands came to rest on the top of his thighs as soon as he was straddling him. “And right now I don’t need anything but your dick inside of me. It doesn’t matter how.”

Yoongi held on to the way Taehyung laughed, all high pitched and cute with cheeks like softened honey, lips stretched wide in a pretty display of white teeth. He was beautiful, otherworldly, and he was all for Yoongi to have.

When Yoongi grabbed a hold of Taehyung’s cock, everything slowed to that single moment, that single slide of his hand and rise of Taehyung’s chest. He lined himself up blindly, aching all over, and sunk down with his mouth open and his tongue loose, forcing himself to push until Taehyung’s cock was buried to the very hilt, the stretch making his spine tingle.

They could hardly even speak, words breaking to syllables, syllables turning to moans, every one of them incoherent. They hadn’t touched each other in more than a month, and Yoongi was feeling the full effect of that burning in his stomach as he rocked forward, the head of Taehyung’s cock already brushing against his prostate.

“I never thought I’d get this chance again. Not after what I said.” Taehyung uttered, eyes closed, head back, hands shaky where they touched Yoongi desperately, feverishly, like it was all he ever wanted to do.

Yoongi whined helplessly, trying to work up a rhythm that wouldn’t make him come too fast. He didn’t want to think about the fight he’d had with Taehyung, the words he’d said out of fear, out of some sort of place of self preservation. They were proving to be lies- and Yoongi didn’t care about how much they’d hurt because look where he was now? He’d still be pining over Taehyung if they hadn’t had that argument, if he hadn’t forced himself to open up and get hurt, and he wanted Taehyung to realize that.

He needed to know he forgave himself.

“I need you to look at me and promise right now that you’ll stop apologizing,” Yoongi said, halting his movements altogether to look down at Taehyung. “That after this, we start fresh. No more talking about the bad shit, about the mistakes we both made, alright?”

Taehyung thought for a brief moment, a goofy smile surfacing. “So you’re saying… this is our first time?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Yoongi giggled, unable to stop it.

“Sweet!” He exclaimed excitedly, fist bumping the air, and Yoongi fell into him happily, letting Taehyung wrap him up in his arms and hug him. “You know, so far, you’re a pretty good lay.”

Yoongi snorted. “I’ve barely started.”

“You still wanna finish?” Taehyung asked kindly, grabbing Yoongi’s hands when the elder pulled himself back up to look at him incredulously.

That was a stupid fucking question.

“That was a stupid fucking question.” Yoongi said as much, earning a slap to the thigh that made him smile.

“Sorry I asked! It’s the right thing to do considering it’s our first time.” Taehyung gave a dramatic wink for emphasis, looking like a complete idiot, but Yoongi kissed him anyway because he was weak for the dark haired boy with the pretty eyes and the deep voice, skin like the color of fall and the taste of wind.

They did end up finishing, despite the constant boner killing jokes Taehyung made about how good Yoongi looked, how he didn’t understand why he’d never had sex with him before. All of them sarcastic, none of them funny.

There was a lot of laughter, lingering tears, but in the end Yoongi came with Taehyung whimpering beneath him, neck and stomach shining with sweat as he held onto the boy’s shoulders and let Taehyung fuck him until his cock pulsed and throbbed with the force of his orgasm, a trail of white running all down Yoongi’s thighs.

They were too spent to move for the longest time, but eventually when Yoongi rolled off to the side, Taehyung following to cuddle him instantly, Yoongi found that he still had one question on his mind.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get.”

Taehyung kissed the back of his neck, brushing away the sweat there. “Hmm?”

“That woman at the club. The one you apparently didn’t go home with. What was her deal?” Yoongi turned to look at Taehyung curiously, wanting to watch his face pick apart the memory, but his only reaction was a slight rise of his shoulders, a shyness in his smile.

“I thought she was nice. She was pretty and she smelled good and, I don’t know, I thought she’d be fun. But then we got to her car and we were kissing and I just…” He met Yoongi’s gaze, eyes softening. “I wanted it to be you.”

Yoongi stiffened in disbelief, turning all the way around so they were chest to chest. “Christ, Tae. That was so long ago.”

That’s when the shyness started to make sense, the bashful way he laughed and hid his eyes. He knew it was ridiculous, he knew it was unbelievable but it was the truth wasn’t it? Taehyung had been right there with Yoongi, feeling all the things he’d been feeling, agonizing over what he still didn’t really have- all while Yoongi had thought no one would ever understand what was happening to him, how his life was hurdling to some ending he didn’t want.

“We’d only been having sex for a few weeks and you were already just so…” Taehyung’s arms gathered Yoongi even closer, pulling him in until their noses were brushing. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Yoongi smiled sadly, the lines around his eyes formed with pain. “You didn’t act like it.”

Taehyung nodded, guilty and sympathetic, but he didn’t apologize. He didn’t because he’d made a promise, and even when his lips pursed to block out words he was dying to say, he knew Yoongi didn’t need to hear them, didn’t want to hear them, and he let them die away in his chest when Yoongi reached out for him, brushing his fingers across Taehyung’s collarbone in a way that made him melt.

Things were going to be okay between them. Taehyung didn’t have to apologize for Yoongi to know, for Yoongi to see. All he had to do was press a hand to Taehyung’s heart and everything he needed was right there.

“I thought it was just an attraction at first. That I didn’t wanna sleep with anyone else because sex with you was so great but, it was more.” Tae explained gently, working carefully through his own mind to find the right words. “And then I called you during Christmas after you made it seem like you were seeing other people and I-”

“You realized.” Yoongi said softly, eyes flickering across Taehyung’s face in awe, fascinated by what he saw there.

“I realized.” Taehyung agreed, looking down at Yoongi with a smile that could save lives, clean oceans, do everything good in the fucking world- Yoongi was sure of it. “I realized I loved you and that if anyone else touched you I’d lose my mind.” He swallowed, brushing fingers back through Yoongi’s hair, rubbing over the slope of his pale nose. His hand was shaky, warm where it cradled Yoongi’s cheek. “I didn’t want anyone else touching you like this.”

“Me neither.” Yoongi whispered, voice completely blown away with disbelief, barely there. Taehyung heard him anyway though, and Yoongi closed his eyes when he felt Taehyung press a kiss to his forehead, a few new tears appearing on Yoongi’s hairline before Tae pulled away. “Just you. I only want you.”

<><><><><>

Graduation went about as slow and boring as Yoongi had expected, but Seokjin kept making passive aggressive jokes about the professors and the students and the shitty decorations in the auditorium- and Yoongi found himself focusing more on trying not to piss through his gown rather than the actual ceremony.

Once their names were called (Kim and Min were close together thank fuck) and they got their diplomas, Jin and Yoongi made their way out of the auditorium rather than back to their seats. This stirred some restless murmuring in the crowd, but Yoongi could hear Jeongguk and Hoseok cheering them on and it was enough to have him smiling all wide and dopey as they made their escape.

They all met up at Seokjin’s car ahead of the crowd, just as planned, and Yoongi found himself being tackled back into the drivers door by Jimin the second the rest of their friends arrived, both him and Hoseok bawling their eyes out.

“I can’t believe this is it,” Jimin cried, jerking Yoongi around by the shoulders like he couldn’t decide whether he was sad or excited. “You’re really leaving.”

“I’m really leaving,” Yoongi smiled lightly, pained despite being certain of his decision. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“Stop,” Namjoon frowned. “You’re gonna make me sad.”

“We’re all fucking sad,” Jin sighed, nudging Yoongi with a soft smile. “But now that he’s got himself a new boyfriend he won’t be able to stay away.”

Yoongi blushed hotly at that, still not used to having such a title, being able to stay close to Taehyung without having to keep himself in check. He usually had to control his instincts, the ones that told him to bury his face in the younger’s chest, breathe him in like a home rather than a person, but he was allowed to want Taehyung now. He was allowed to do all the things he wasn’t allowed to do before but did anyway, and it felt kind of like restarting.

Becoming new again.

As if hearing his thoughts, Taehyung made his way over to Yoongi just as the elder pulled his gown off, bundling the material in his hand where he tossed it into the backseat of the car. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist from behind, placing his chin on the man’s shoulder, and smiled big and boxy.

Yoongi could feel the rise of his cheek against his face, and it made something warm and ridiculously fond swarm up in his chest. He let it build, let it glide and spread without shame because he could. He could do that now.

“I thought you said I’d never see you in a suit again.” Tae teased, sliding his hands inside Yoongi’s suit pockets, laughing when it made the elder squirm.

“We had to wear them for the ceremony.” Yoongi said.

“No we didn’t.” Seokjin deadpanned, pulling off his own gown to reveal he’d shown up to graduation wearing checkered blue pajamas.

The swarm of laughter that came next was deafening, limbs flailing, knees giving, Jeongguk launching himself at Jin just to wrap his arms around him- and Yoongi was so fucking embarrassed that he let out a groan that wasn’t even heard.

He weakly tried to pull away from Taehyung, humiliated, but the boy just held on tighter, nuzzled his way into Yoongi’s neck with a smile and muttered, “was this for me then?”

Yoongi wanted to tell him no. That his inspiration had come from literally anywhere else, but the truth was that Yoongi hadn’t been able to miss the chance to look good for Taehyung (his boyfriend), and when he’d stared into his closet that morning to find something to wear under his gown, he had liked the idea of putting on a suit. Making an effort.

Besides, it’s not like he was the only graduate to do it. It was normal, common as hell even- so Yoongi didn’t know why his face was suddenly so hot.

“I like it,” Taehyung assured, not needing Yoongi’s confirmation to know his assumption was right. “You look so good in it too. So handsome for me, baby.”

“I feel like we’re interrupting something.” Namjoon said to Jimin, eyes wide as he watched the exchange.

Jimin smiled. “We’re not interrupting anything until one of them bends over.”

“God, let’s just go, alright?” Yoongi interrupted suddenly, not exactly appreciating the attention. He felt Taehyung’s smirk against his ear. “I don’t wanna be late for my first day.”

It was an obvious excuse, but it was enough to inject a sense of reality in all of them again, the realization of what they were doing, what was about to end coming forward full force. They all silently filed into Seokjin’s car, each of them sobered up and frowning again.

Yoongi was just about to reach for the passenger door handle when Taehyung’s hand enveloped his, fingers long, palm warm.

Yoongi looked up at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, confused the longer Tae just sort of stood there, fumbling for words.

“Do you have to sit up front? I kinda want… you to sit in the back with me?” He finally managed, looking at the ground as though it was a question he shouldn’t have been asking, and Yoongi stared at him for much longer than he meant to.

“Okay,” Yoongi whispered, flustered, warm on the inside. It was so hard getting used to Tae caring. “Okay, yeah.”

Jin’s car wasn’t big enough to fit all seven of them, an inconvenience that Yoongi had brought to their attention beforehand, but they all decided they wanted to be together and so Yoongi couldn’t exactly complain when he found himself having to sit on Taehyung’s lap the entire drive to the train station.

It wasn’t all that bad. Namjoon was in the passenger seat, which meant the music situation was in good hands, Jeongguk was squeezed into the middle of the backseat, and Jimin was having to sit on Hoseok’s lap as well. He was hunched over all awkwardly, almost like he was tall or something, and he kept cracking jokes about feeling Hoseok’s dick against him and Yoongi couldn’t help but shake with laughter when he saw the way Seokjin threw a frantic glance into the backseat, hands tight on the steering wheel.

It also wasn’t that bad with the way Taehyung was holding him, arms locked tight around his waist, hands splayed out along his ribcage where they dipped under each breath Yoongi took. There was something undeniably sad about the whole thing. Yoongi would laugh and Taehyung would stiffen against him like he wasn’t expecting it, like he didn’t think it was possible that Yoongi could still sound so happy when he was falling apart.

It was hard, but Yoongi hoped that Taehyung understood his sentiment when he went to grab the younger’s hand, threading their fingers together. He wanted to tell him how grateful he was, how much it meant to him that Taehyung was still willing to be with him even with the distance, but there had already been too many tears the night before, and Yoongi wasn’t sure he could take anymore.

They hadn’t really talked about it for long. After they had cleaned up and went to bed, curled up so close together that Yoongi could hardly breathe, the discussion had been brief, straightforward. Taehyung wasn’t going to tell Yoongi to stay, and Yoongi wasn’t going to throw away an opportunity for a relationship he’d never counted on, and so they fell asleep that night with a kind of numbed understanding that Yoongi was going to be leaving the next day.

That everything that changed between them would have to be put on hold. Yoongi tried not to think too hard about it, and Taehyung seemed to communicate through forced shrugs and fake smiles, but it was impossible not to notice how desperately they held each other that night, skin on skin, legs tangled and hands all over. They woke up early just to take each other apart all over again, Yoongi opening his eyes to find Taehyung holding him down by his hips, mouth already making his way down.

The way they had kissed leaving Yoongi’s apartment had been just as passionate, just as meaningful, Taehyung’s hands burning where they touched Yoongi, almost as if leaving the words don’t leave me on his skin.

None of it was easy, all of it a huge drag, sad and upsetting and downright fucking depressing, but Yoongi knew it would get easier after the first time. Once Taehyung got used to him visiting he wouldn’t be so scared to let him go. This first time, it was much too easy to imagine Yoongi never coming back.

“We’re here.” Seokjin announced, a heaviness in his voice, and Taehyung let out a shaky breath against the back of Yoongi’s neck, arms unbreakable where they kept Yoongi locked in.

The others slowly got out of the car, each of them noticing Taehyung’s distress but being polite enough not to mention it. Jimin was the only one who really hesitated, peering back into the car once Yoongi and Tae were the only ones left, but Yoongi gave him a small smile, waving him off, and it was enough of a reassurance to have the smaller man nodding before pulling away.

“First time is the hardest. We get through this and we’re golden, okay?” Yoongi turned around in Taehyung’s lap with what he hoped was a kind smile, hands wrapping around the boy’s neck.

Taehyung nodded, slow, unfocused, like he didn’t really know what to say but knew he couldn’t do nothing, and Yoongi’s stomach took a painful dive. God this was going to fucking suck.

Yoongi kissed Taehyung before he could start panicking himself. The last thing he needed was for both of them to be unsure, but it was impossible not to feel all the things he didn’t want to feel, to fear that even after everything this still wasn’t going to work.

Kissing Taehyung seemed to shut his mind up though, and the younger’s hands in his hair was wonderfully distracting, even more so when they dipped under his neckline, unbuttoning the top button of his suit just to have a place to kiss when he ducked his head.

“You are not debauching me in the back of Jin’s car with our friends all around us.” Yoongi demanded with a laugh, forcing Taehyung back as he groaned in annoyance, hands anxious where he squeezed Yoongi’s hips.

“Why not?” He whined, jutting his lip out like that would make a difference.

“I think that’s considered a little rude, don’t you?”

“No,” Taehyung insisted. “You know how many times I’ve walked in on Jimin getting his ass pounded on the living room couch?”

Yoongi laughed at the disgust on Tae’s face, the obviously alarming images that seemed to be flashing before his eyes.

“So this is payback?” Yoongi asked teasingly, sort of kidding around, but Taehyung was a little shit and of course he couldn’t take a damn joke.

“No, I just want you,” He moved to Yoongi’s neck again, eyelashes dancing over his skin. “Like, all the damn time.”

Yoongi couldn’t help it. He started laughing just as Namjoon tapped on the window beside them, looking like the last person who wanted to interrupt them (they probably played Rock Paper Scissors to decide), and Taehyung was annoyed but Yoongi was just fucking amused, enthralled that he could even get such a reaction from Taehyung.

A sexually frustrated Taehyung was better than a sad Taehyung. Yoongi stood by that, and he had hoped the change in the younger’s attitude would last, but soon enough they were out of the car and heading for the train station, Yoongi’s bags divided between Jeongguk and Hoseok who insisted on carrying them, and Taehyung was lagging behind the group like a kicked animal.

Yoongi understood Taehyung’s dread. He really did. For Taehyung to go so long without telling Yoongi how he felt out of fear, to admitting everything- only for Yoongi to leave, it was hard to not see it as some sort of rejection. As a way for Yoongi to leave with an excuse, pretending to forgive him when really he didn’t, and after having a shitty boyfriend who’s impact had kept Taehyung away in the first place, this entire situation was making more than a few alarms go off for Taehyung.

It was this single concern that made Yoongi ask the others for privacy once he’d bought his ticket, and said his last goodbyes, each of them agreeing without question.

“We’ll meet you back at the car, Tae.” Jin told him, and then they were gone, all of their friends leaving the way they came in.

When they were finally left alone, reality seemed to hit Taehyung, head on, full force. He stared at the cobblestone ground with anxious feet, slashing a hand across his eyes with a sniffle.

“You’ve been quiet.” Yoongi said, trying to catch Taehyung’s gaze, but he wouldn’t stop looking down. Yoongi pulled his head up by a hand on his chin, eyes softened with sympathy. “You hardly said anything during the drive here.”

The boy shrugged, grabbing for Yoongi’s wrist to pull his hand away. “I just wanted to hold you.”

Yoongi smiled tightly, the action a little sad, chest aching along with it, but it was genuine too and it made Taehyung keep his head up just so he could watch the smile take shape across Yoongi’s face, pushing up his cheeks, bringing out his gums and crinkly eyes.

They looked at each other for a long moment, standing at an edge, waiting for the jump, and when the station made the announcement that Yoongi’s train was now boarding, it was Yoongi who spoke first, pulse racing, hands vibrating as he reached up and curled a stray hair back behind Taehyung’s ear.

Taehyung’s responding smile was like watching spring bloom.

“I’m gonna call you every night you know. And visit every other weekend.” Yoongi assured him, and it was funny really, how quickly their roles reversed, Yoongi turning into a panicked mess just as Taehyung seemed to get a grip.

“Sounds clingy to me.” Taehyung grinned, so bright, so beautiful, like the sight of Yoongi alone was enough to make him glow from the inside out, and maybe that was true.

Maybe it was true for the both of them.

“And what if I am clingy?” Yoongi dared, hands pressed flat to Taehyung’s chest where he felt the younger’s heart practically skip a beat to catch up.

“Then you’re perfect for me.”

And just like that, Yoongi was hugging Taehyung in the middle of a train station with the warm breeze of spring on his back, the smell of tree bark and cherry blossoms and sunshine bleeding in around the smell of Taehyung himself, the feeling of complete belonging that he arose in Yoongi.

There were going to be challenges, moments where he’d be spending the night alone when all he wanted was for Taehyung’s deep voice to lull him to sleep, but when has anything with Taehyung been easy? He was a time bomb, this reckless kid with a tiger cub smile and a rainbow colored closet, whose body functioned on nothing but coffee and Cheetos and shitty anime, and most people would think he’d never be allowed within twenty feet of someone like Yoongi.

Someone who thrived in the quiet, who didn’t exactly make friends easily, and wanted nothing more than to sleep most days, ridden with anxiety about his friends and his job and everything else he felt he couldn’t control. But somehow, together, Taehyung had this sort of effect on Yoongi. Much like Hoseok did, only heightened, more intense in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He made Yoongi hurt a little, in the best way, in the I’m in love and I don’t know what to do with myself sort of way, but for Yoongi that was a given, because he’d never met anyone quite like Taehyung, and it was only natural that his very existence almost felt too much for his body to take sometimes. He was like the fucking sun, too bright to look at all that closely, too beautiful to keep between two hands, but god the light felt too good to leave, and Yoongi never again wanted to find himself hiding in the shade.

“I love you, Taehyung-ah.” He said, right into the boy’s ear. Taehyung giggled in response, nuzzling his nose into the elder’s face, but Yoongi was having none of that. He squirmed in the taller man’s arms. “Say it back, fucker.”

“I love you too, hyung.” He laughed again, louder this time, and Yoongi wanted to tell him this was serious. That he was about to leave, but Taehyung was solid against him, this everliving force of strength and kindness and so much more- and Yoongi didn’t want to ruin that.

Taehyung pulled him impossibly closer, squeezing him around the shoulders and down his neck where he let his fingers run loose in the mint hair there. Feeling, simply touching just to touch, maybe even memorize much in the same way he used to when he had to draw Yoongi from nothing but what his eyes could remember.

“Take care of the little one for me, okay?” Yoongi asked weakly, referring to Taehyung’s kitten, but he blushed hotly at what the question really sounded like and he sighed when he realized the younger noticed, a bark of laughter leaving him.

“You mean Cuddles?”

Yoongi pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You named her Cuddles?” Yoongi deadpanned, appalled by Taehyung’s choice for the name of their child.

Taehyung gaped at him. “It’s adorable!”

“It’s a verb.”

“Hyungggg.” He whined petulantly, somehow gorgeous even when pouting, and Yoongi found himself being twirled not even a second later, Taehyung’s hands spinning him around the boarding dock.

“Fine, whatever. She’s not even mine- it’s fine.” Yoongi gave in, shrugging so nonchalantly that Taehyung’s smile turned massive, all boxy and fond.

The last call for Yoongi’s train to Gyeongju echoed around them just as their laughter began to soften, hearts warm, hands clasped between them.

“I’ve gotta go.”

It was difficult to say, to announce so openly like it was inevitable, but Taehyung just nodded and helped Yoongi gather his things without question, the two of them boarding the train and finding Yoongi a seat by one of the doors rather quickly.

Once his things were settled, and Yoongi had double and then triple checked that he had everything, he turned back to Taehyung reluctantly, a frown tugging at his lips.

Taehyung rubbed his thumb in circles over the top of Yoongi’s hand, trying to get the frown to leave, but it didn’t. Tae smiled a little brokenly, understanding.

“Oh, right, um- I almost forgot.” He stepped back suddenly, eyes wide as he scrambled through his pocket. “I want you to have this.”

It took Yoongi a second to realize what was happening, to recognize exactly what Taehyung was showing him, but when he did he couldn’t stop the way his jaw dropped. Taehyung handed him the sketchbook slowly, almost like he was worried about the air itself ruining it, and that only made the entire situation more overwhelming, more beautiful as Yoongi untied the leather strings and let the pages spill out in front of his eyes.

He recognized a few of them immediately, the delicate strokes of pencil lead that captured his features, the drawing of him sleeping on Hoseok’s couch. Yoongi had been overstepping a line when he’d looked through this sketchbook the first time, breaking the rules, trying to make sense of it all, but here he was again, just as breathless as he’d been before, and this time it did make sense.

Taehyung was in love with him. He was so fucking in love with him- and if Taehyung still believed in any way that he needed to prove himself to Yoongi, than this was it. He did it, because Yoongi could hardly look through more than half of the filled sketchbook before his eyes were swimming with tears.

“Are you sure?” He asked him, impossibly soft, but somehow Taehyung’s smile was even softer.

“Yeah.”

The front of the train let out a whistle, a warning to what was bound to come, and Yoongi let out a nervous sigh as people gathered inside, taking their final spots.

They didn’t have much longer.

Yoongi hugged Taehyung again, one last time, eyes wet and nose runny, sketchbook still in hand and everything- but he had to. God, he had to, because going two weeks apart after spending the last six months loving so deeply felt like he was getting a hand taken away, or a leg maybe.

It was going to feel like something was missing, and he wasn’t going to know what to do with himself for a while.

“I’ll see you.” He said, pulling back, breaking away, but not for forever. Yoongi would always come back to him.

“See you.” Taehyung whispered, and it was almost like snow was falling, the way they looked at each other like they had never seen anything more beautiful in their entire lives.

It was at 4:45 p.m. on a Friday in late May that Yoongi kissed Taehyung like it was the first time, soft and tender as he slotted their lips together, shy and happy as he pulled away. It was different from their actual first kiss, and far from their last, but it was the type that had his stomach fluttering and cheeks warming even after Taehyung was gone, the effect of him remaining like a physical touch on Yoongi’s skin.

Taehyung barely made it out of the train before the doors closed behind him, the sliding metal nearly catching on a piece of his clothing on the way out. This made Taehyung laugh for some reason, and although Yoongi could barely hear him, he could tell just by Tae’s face what it probably sounded like, and it made his heart ache as the train slowly began to inch forward.

Taehyung waved through the window of the door one last time, smile crooked, eyes playful. He chased the train for a moment, contemplating, thinking maybe he could actually do it as a joke, but real life was nothing like the movies, and he stopped with a gentle press of his hand to the glass, managing to leave a subtle print behind just before Yoongi and the train moved on ahead.

Yoongi stared at that handprint long after Taehyung was gone, the subtle shape of his palm and length of his fingers lingering there on the glass like an echo, a reminder of once was, and before he knew it he was smiling. Teeth and all, lips stretched wide, because it just made sense, didn’t it?

It was just like Taehyung to leave a little piece of himself everywhere he went, whether it was a painting or a handprint or a path left in the snow, there was always something there to remind Yoongi that Taehyung was always going to be there. Somehow, someway, never again deemed to be the mystery that he once was.

It was during the last hour of that train ride that Yoongi decided to pull his journal out, flipping to a new page just as the sun began to set, shining a brilliant orange through the splotchy windows behind him.

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to write, just that he needed to, but the moment his pencil met the page his hand was moving, and something told Yoongi that his heart played a major part in the way his words aligned.

And Yoongi loved him.