Chapter Text
Six Months Later
Taehyung barely closes the auditorium door behind him before answering the hundredth call from Jungkook that evening. The classical music blaring behind him is muffled into a low hum.
“Hyung,” Jungkook panics from the other end, forgoing all greetings. “It’s almost our turn. The line is moving so fast.”
“Jimin hasn’t even gone up yet.”
“Jin-hyung is gonna’ to be so disappointed if you guys don’t make it.”
Taehyung has to whisper-shout into the phone, because tonight might be a big one for Jin, but it is just as big for Jimin. “How do you think Jimin feels not having anyone at the showcase but me? Stall, or something.”
“How?”
He glances through the door window. The light music fades out, stage lights dim completely as the next dancer prepares to go up.
“Figure something out.”
He hangs up, sets the phone to airplane mode for good measure, because he will not be interrupted during Jimin’s performance. Jin and their other friends are his last concern at the moment.
According to the program, Jimin is up next, and Taehyung just makes it back to his seat in time, body aching from exertion.
The MC introduces him as the most talented contemporary dancer to walk through the university doors, top of his class, gifted, all attributes Taehyung eagerly agrees with as the crowd awaits the last performance of the night.
A red spotlight comes on. Jimin rises from the center of the stage, draped in white milky satin that looks bloodstained underneath the grim light. A familiar piano instrumental fills the room, melancholy keys ringing throughout the auditorium. Jimin begins to move, fluid motions that draw the eye and hypnotize.
Taehyung has seen him practice those lithe, silky moves numerous times, and every time his breath is taken away at the vision that Jimin is, telling the saddest tale as he moves across the stage, lost, desperately reaching out for something that keeps slipping away. He has explained to Taehyung the moves, their names, and the techniques behind them, but had never allowed for Taehyung to see the dance as a cohesive piece. Said he wanted for him to feel it on his own.
And Taehyung does. He feels it the moment the keys play and something invisible yanks Jimin forward, pulling him towards something no one but he can see.
The people in the crowd feel it too, because the room gasps in unison as Jimin runs, chasing hope, only to fall to his knees, head hung low. The piano slows down a few beats, but Jimin’s breathing does not. Then, he plants his hands to the ground, face growing hard, and he forces himself up.
The music speeds up again, resilient. The moves are not so silky anymore, more flexed, rough, determined, contrasted by the stage lights that fade into white. Jimin glows, an angel amongst mere humans. He dances with the same desperation as before, only now it is fierce, and the crowd murmurs excitedly when Jimin stills, faces them, looking out into their faces. He walks towards the front of the stage slowly, to the pace of the dying piano. He looks over the crowd, chin up, poised, confident. Taehyung cannot hear the sound of anyone’s breathing, but that could very much be because Jimin locks eyes with him, holds his gaze with intention. Suddenly, Jimin’s arm whips forward, grabbing onto whatever it is he has been chasing, holds it close to his heart, presses it into his chest, absorbing it, and pirouettes in graceful circles around the stage, grinning wildly. His movements calm with the slowing piano and, still holding a fist to his heart, he hugs himself with his free arm, loving whatever it is he has managed to obtain, and himself.
Taehyung is in awe for so long after he almost forgets that he wanted to capture the audience’s reaction to show Jimin later. Considering they are giving him a standing ovation, this is definitely a moment both will want to hold onto forever.
Backstage, Jimin has changed into a sweater and a pair of Taehyung’s sweatpants. He spots Taehyung in the exiting crowd of dancers, bares his teeth in a satisfied grin as he runs and slams into him.
Taehyung grunts at the force that sparks a light throbbing in his abdomen, but that does not deter him from holding Jimin close, squeezing his small frame proudly.
“That was beautiful, Jimin-ah,” he says in awe, kissing his sweat drenches temple.
“Did you get it?” Jimin asks, pushing back to gage the truth in Taehyung’s face. “The story, did you figure it out?”
Of course he has. It is a story they continue to live every day, but have learned not to dwell too much on. One of lost souls that find each other and become a healing force for the other. “It’s your story.” One about recognition of self-worth, and love.
Jimin looks close to tears, though his smile never falters. He cradles Taehyung’s face in both hands, kissing him right there amidst the staring passersby, still high off the performance.
Taehyung lets him, because this is Jimin, and all he ever wants is for Jimin to have what he wants, what he deserves. To be happy.
“Come on,” says Jimin, slinking an arm around Taehyung’s waste, turning them towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”
There is an urgency to Jimin’s demeanor, but he holds back from pulling Taehyung out the building, the latter dependent on his cane still. Cool March air drifts over and around them, the light winter breeze carrying them in the direction of the Rolls Royce parked a ways away, a walk that tires Taehyung out.
Jimin helps Taehyung into the driver’s seat before rounding the front to the passenger side, moving with an energy Taehyung envies.
“How the hell can you still move so fast after that?” he asks when the blond closes the door behind him, cranks the heat up. He motions for Jimin to come towards him, stretches his neck to meet the plump reddened ones. He can taste the exhilaration all over Jimin’s mouth, meets the dance of Jimin’s tongue with a matched intensity. One hand holding onto the back of Jimin’s neck, he breathes out, “You were amazing in there.”
Jimin’s pupils visibly dilate at the praise.
“You are the most beautiful piece of art I have ever seen.”
There is a rosy blush to Jimin’s cheeks that is not from the cold. “Stop,” he whines bashfully, eyeing Taehyung’s lips as if debating whether to ravish them now or later.
“No one in that room could take their eyes off you. You turned a sad story into something elegant, graceful, poignant…”
Jimin hauls himself over the console, surprising Taehyung into silence.
“What are you…?” But the question gets lost inside Jimin’s mouth as he melds their lips together once again. Taehyung’s hands grip Jimin’s waist to balance him, and he loses himself in the ferocity, forgets the fact that they are parked in a public street with people coming and going around them. But what are tinted windows for if not to preserve this moment of heat?
Jimin is already hard, grinds in Taehyung’s lap frantically.
Taehyung turns his head away to breathe.
“Jin—” he gasps with a large intake of air. “The fansign—”
“I don’t care.” His hands are at Taehyung’s belt, moving with an eagerness he had not exhibited in a while, what with Taehyung being incapacitated and his university demanding so much of him. “I want you right here, right now.”
Taehyung is all too willing to oblige. He blindly messes with the automatic buttons at the bottom of his seat, leaning it back as far as it will go for more comfort.
That is when Jimin stops.
He remains laid atop Taehyung, bodies pressed together uncomfortably in the tight space. Taehyung can see a flicker of sanity behind the hungry brown eyes.
Jimin groans, buries his sweat matted hair in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. “God, I want you so bad.”
“But…?”
Jimin sighs, hand coming up to rest on Taehyung’s shoulder. “But we promised Jin-hyung.”
That they did.
Taehyung is not disappointed with the abrupt end to their love making; they will have all night to revel in the high of Jimin being back on a stage, doing what he loves. He is torn, however, with how to deal with the painful erection.
Once Jimin is buckled into his seat and Taehyung’s has been recalibrated, he asks, “How did you feel up there?” If Jimin’s facial expressions were anything to go by, Taehyung would say his boyfriend had relived the highs and lows of the past year in that single two-and-a-half minute performance. But Jimin again surprises him when he says,
“I felt amazing. And beautiful, and free, and…” He unabashedly gropes Taehyung’s obscured dick. “Horny.”
He lets out a long breath through his teeth, too high on Jimin’s excitement to get the car moving. They have sex often, that is a given. But there had been a slight shift in their intimacy ever since that night, the night they discovered it was his father who had assaulted Jimin. It is refreshing to see Jimin does not seem to have that fact on his mind in this moment, as Taehyung suspects it always is whenever they want each other. He wants to make the most of Jimin’s burst of confidence, but they have promises to keep.
He entwines his fingers through Jimin’s groping hand, kisses his palm. “The second we get home…”
“You better fuck me senseless.”
It’s difficult to find a place to park at the venue, but when Taehyung finally turns the car off Jimin beats him to the door, pulling it open ferociously, gentler when he helps Taehyung out. He is quick to realize that Jungkook had been lying.
The spot MYG rented out for the occasion—a theater much like the one Jimin had been dancing in minutes ago—is filled to the brim with fans holding up picket signs with Jin’s face on them, standing on their tiptoes to get a clear view of the man of the night. The man himself looks a slight timid, ears glowing bright red and an uncharacteristically shy smile on his handsome face. Namjoon stands to the back, a foot or two away, stoic.
The fans are organized in rows, row three being empty as they are lined up on the stage, approaching Jin one by one to get albums signed and offer whatever gifts they have brought along. Taehyung spots Jungkook and company in row thirteen.
“Almost our turn my ass,” Taehyung grumbles, lowering himself cautiously into the empty seat next to Jungkook. “It looks like they just started.”
“I have no idea how long these things are supposed to take,” Jungkook says annoyedly, cheek rested on a fist, bored. “We waited outside for hours. When the line started moving I thought were going coming in to meet him. Turns out there’s more waiting.” He seems to remember something, then turns to Jimin quickly, leans over Taehyung to better communicate over the sighing, screaming, hyperventilating fangirls surrounding them. “How’d it go?”
“Amazing,” Taehyung answers for him, grinning broadly.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you. Switch seats with me, will ya’? I want to hear all about it.”
They do, and Taehyung sits between his brother and Hoseok now. Without as much as sparing him a glance, too busy sizing up the girls in the room—probably wondering who he should try and go after when the event is over—Hoseok reaches a hand out. “Video?”
“I forgot to record.”
Hoseok gives him a stink eye. “You literally had one job.”
“I was too distracted by how talented by boyfriend is to get it on camera. And Hyung, aren’t these girls a little too young for you?”
Hoseok shoots him a look. “Don’t let your brother rub off on you. I do not have a thing for older women.”
“I mean, isn’t everyone here underage?”
Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “What the fuck do you take me for? I’m not looking at the girls; I’m looking at the women.” Upon the confused look on Taehyung’s face, he adds, “The moms.”
“Sure hyung,” Taehyung mumbles, mostly to himself as Hoseok turns his attention back to the front. “You don’t have a type.”
The wait stretches on for what feels like hours. While the rest of the waiting fans are understandably and energetically on their feet taking an excessive amount of photos of Jin sat on the stage, Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok fall into a tired silence as the night stretches on.
“Isn’t it past half these kids’ bedtime?” Hoseok asks a little while later, after row nine has been called to line up.
Jimin—who had forced Taehyung and Jungkook to switch seats again, has Taehyung’s sleeve pulled up and is tracing the lines of his veins with an index finger—responds. “Jin-hyung is a really hot topic these days. Their moms probably want this more than the fans do.”
“Yoongi-hyung did mention something about that to me,” Jungkook agrees, nodding. “The highest fan demographic is middle aged women, then teenage girls, then middle aged men.”
Hoseok chuckles. “How would those mother’s feel if they knew he was already taken?” He contorts his face into feigned offense. “Aigo!” he says in a great imitation of an ahjumma. “He’s too good looking to be with just anyone. If anything, my daughter matches him just right!”
They stifle their snickers, taking great joy from the cluelessness of the moms and their daughters losing their minds over a taken gay man.
Another hour seems go by as they sit there, gradually dozing off as their turn approaches. Except Jimin.
Jimin grows restless, openly strokes Taehyung’s hair affectionately, whispers dirty reminders in his boyfriend’s ear about what he has planned for him when they get home. It takes everything in Taehyung to keep his body from reacting, but he somehow manages it.
“I’m going to take you so deep in my throat you won’t even be able to…”
“Where’s Yoongi-hyung, by the way?” he says a little too loudly, leaning away from Jimin’s whispering lips, an eager shiver tickling his skin all over.
Jimin looks a little too proud of himself.
Jungkook gives a wide yawn before answering. “He’s waiting outside in the van.”
“Poor guy,” Hoseok sighs. “I bet he didn’t think he’d have to wait so long to reunite with his celebrity boyfriend.”
Finally, their row is called, and they follow the ecstatic fans before them down the steps to line up at the bottom of the stage, wait for one of the MYG assistants to usher them up.
Namjoon hovers a little too close to Jin, moves people along a little too fast. When it is Hoseok’s turn, he barely acknowledges his friend, remains apathetic and professional, even rushes the meet-and-greet to get the line going. Jin, on the other hand, wears a bigger smile for his friends than he has the fans.
Taehyung makes his way forward as Jungkook steps away from the table, holds his copy of the album out with two hands. Seokjin grins from ear to ear. Taehyung never could have thought any of them would end up where they are after the lives they have lived, and he feels an overwhelming sense of pride as he approaches the former bartender. What a long way he has come since his days at Ulgwang. But, he tries to keep the mood light. “Kim Seokjin-ssi,” he greets him, matching his hyung’s smile. “Huge fan. Honored to meet you.”
“Glad you could make it,” Seokjin says quietly.
“Wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Taehyung assures him. Despite Seokjin’s enduring annoyance towards him, it is the man’s love for Jimin that has captured Taehyung’s affection more than anything. That, and the fact that he and Jimin come as a package deal.
“How was Jimin’s performance?” he asks, sliding the album back after scribbling his signature on it.
Taehyung sighs. “Quite emotional. He danced to your song, you know.”
His jaw goes slightly slack at that. “W-which one?”
“Dead Leaves. Says you wrote it to comfort him once, and that it’s his favorite track on the record.”
Seokjin glances Jimin’s way, eyes glistening. “Actually, I wrote it for him.”
A shadow crosses over Seokjin’s shoulder as Namjoon takes a step forward. “Sir, I need you to move along now.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “See you tomorrow, hyung.”
From behind him, as he is walking away, he hears Jimin say, “I’m so proud of you hyung,” before he even reaches the table.
Taehyung enjoys a quiet smoke break outside the venue as he waits for Jimin to join him, the latter having detoured to the restroom on their way out. He is feeling particularly blissful today, grateful for the opportunities his friends have been afforded. Grateful because it has been some time since he has seen a smile on Jin or Jimin’s faces, both having gruelled for the past few months in preparation for their big days. Grateful for the days’ distraction from the otherwise rocky months.
It is dark out now, the sun finally set. Jin’s fanmeet continues inside, six more rows left after theirs. But as men whose lives are anything but ordinary, this is where they call it a night.
He exhales a cloud of smoke and hot breath into the cool wintery air cascading him, can feel his core temperature drop slightly as he reached the butt of the cigarette, and puts it out on the side of the building he leans on.
Jungkook exits, looking around like a lost puppy until he spots Taehyung.
“Hyung, Yoongi wants to see us. He’s parked in the parking deck.”
As much as he would love to meet with his hyung, he has an important rendezvous he is looking forward to, one he is not willing to be distracted from. Still, being the good friend he is, he asks, “Did he say what for?”
“Nope. Just that it’s urgent. Everyone’s there now. Even Jimin.”
He closes his eyes. Just this once. Just this once he will go against his hyung.
“Tell Jimin I’ll be leaving without him. And tell Yoongi I’ll see him tomorrow. I’m tired.”
It is true, he wants to get home as soon as possible. But sleeping is not on the itinerary, and he is in disbelief that Jimin, who had been so excited just an hour and a few minutes ago, can drag this night on longer.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re going to leave without Jimin?”
“Let him know I’m on my way to the car. And if he isn’t here in five minutes, I’m gone.” It is callous, he admits to himself, but can he be blamed for wanting to take advantage of the one carefree night any one of them has had since Jung-Jin’s imprisonment and their subsequent busy schedules?
He thinks not.
Rather than doing as he’s told, Jungkook lets the door come to a close behind him as he approaches his now slightly shivering brother, a look of concern on his face. “Are you and Jimin-hyung okay?” he asks worriedly. “He’s not still being distant, is he?”
Taehyung lets out a sigh, flicks the cigarette butt into a nearby trashcan once he is sure it’s completely out. “Tonight’s as good as it’s gotten in some time,” he mutters, avoiding his younger brother’s gaze. “Today we’re okay. Tomorrow, he might fall back into a funk.”
Jungkook pats him on the back comfortingly, something he does more often than not these days, knowing Taehyung will not shy away anymore. “I wouldn’t worry about him too much if I were you. Something tells me Jimin’s days will be looking up from now on.”
He glances at his brother from the side of his eye. “You know something I don’t?” It sure seems like it.
Jungkook grants him a crooked smile before patting his back again. “I’ve been hearing things. And I think that’s what Yoongi wants to see you about.”
He had seen this coming. Jimin is too good of a dancer to overlook. Any entertainment company would jump on the opportunity to hire him. Considering tonight was his first professional performance, Taehyung is sure scouts in the crowd are already planning their pitches to get their hands on Jimin. Yoongi must have had someone there as well.
“Tell Yoongi I said good luck. Jimin is going to be a tough one to convince.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve only offered him job after job dozens of times. He’s always turned me down. He’ll do just the same now.”
Jungkook squares his shoulders against the increasingly cold night, fists his hands into his pockets. “So you’re not interested in hearing what hyung’s got to offer?”
“I’m interested.” He only ever wants what is good for Jimin. What will make all his dreams come true, the wild and the realistic. “But like I said: Jimin is going to be a difficult one to recruit.”
Jungkook shrugs, begins retreating back towards the door. “I’ll send them the message. And if Jimin isn’t out here in five minutes…?”
Though Taehyung is not worried about that, knows his boyfriend will come running out the moment Jungkook delivers the light threat, he tells him, “You’ll drop him off at home.”
One thing he had made the mistake of doing when Jimin was healing is attach himself to the blond when what he needed most was time alone. They had almost broken up then.
Desperate, broken, confused, Jimin had approached him one night to inform him that he will be renting a hotel room for the night. Multiple nights, if need be.
Taehyung, afraid of what this could mean, had asked if he did something wrong.
“Nothing wrong. Not you. I just…I need space. To think.”
And he had given him that space. Taehyung went away for a while, took this opportunity to do his own thinking, reflecting. He had left Jimin the entire house, arranged for Namjoon to go on his own short vacation while Jin still trained, asked Jungkook to keep an eye out. Things between Jimin and him were not okay.
Although he had missed the blond terribly, wondered and feared everyday if he would come back to a once again empty home, he spent a week in Tokyo. And another in Taipei, then Singapore, then Jeju before coming back to Seoul. He had questioned it all; his actions, whether it was right for him to go after Jung-Jin, whether his assault could have been avoided, if letting Jimin be would be best for the hurting man. He had made his mind up on this month long excursion.
He needed to let Jimin go.
Circumstances happened to be that Namjoon and Jimin were living under his roof, made his mansion their home. And he would have left it all to them, would not have missed the place one bit if it meant Jimin could live comfortably. Sure, memories of Taehyung, memories of their love would still have lingered there, but he planned on not taking no for an answer. Not this time.
He had arrived back at the house with a heavy heart, feeling more heartbroken than when he had left. The prospect of the oncoming conversation left him depleted of energy, of the will to even fake an okay smile. He was unloading his luggage from the car, moving slowly, stalling.
Jimin had burst out the front door in a fury.
“One month?”
Taehyung was prepared to apologize, though unsure what for.
“One fucking month? What the hell do I look like to you, Kim Taehyung? A live in sugar baby?”
“What?”
“Your phone’s been off. My messages wouldn’t reach you. Jungkook couldn’t get ahold of you. Hoseok couldn’t trace you.” He had even gotten physical, pushed Taehyung with as much strength as his thin arms allowed. Taehyung stumbled back, more from the shock than the force. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“You said you needed space.”
“Not countries worth!”
He was stunned at the reaction, to say the least. A warm welcome, he definitely had not expected that. But he also had not expected Jimin to look as hurt as he did, and he sure as hell did not expect the crushing hug he had pulled him into.
Arms squeezing around Taehyung’s sore torso, he muttered, “Don’t ever fucking leave me like that again.”
It was only then that he knew how desperately they truly needed each other. How their connection was beyond physical, emotional, even mental. It was inexplicable, whatever drew them together. And no matter how much the other was hurting, the expectation always will be that they had each other no matter the circumstances.
Of course, Taehyung is not leaving. He waits for Jimin in the car, keeps track of those five minutes, though does not plan on holding him to them. But Jimin does not disappoint.
With seconds left, he spots a shadowy figure come running out of the building, sprinting right towards his car. The last minute changes, and Jimin comes to a stop before Taehyung’s lit headlights, ensuring he cannot go anywhere, grips his knees as he catches his breath. Taehyung remains in the car.
Jimin rounds the front of the Rolls Royce, chest heaving as he clutches a stitch in his side. He opens the passenger door, quietly frustrated. He says nothing even as he buckles himself in, crosses his arms across his chest and waits for Taehyung to get them out of there.
He drives dangerously fast, flying through red lights, disregarding any and all street signs. Jimin is curled in on himself now, eyes closed tight so as not to witness whatever massacre they will be getting into. Only when they reach the bottom of the hill that Taehyung’s mansion sits atop does he slow down. Jimin likes the winding of the road here, enjoys watching the scenery shift from congested city streets to captivating woodland.
Taehyung drives with his left hand, sets his right one on the console between them, palm up. There is a stubborn resistance from Jimin, one that gives way almost immediately, and he resignedly locks his short fingers between Taehyung’s long ones.
“Yoongi offered me a job,” he says finally, when the last of the ordinary mansions are behind them and they break into the tree lined drive leading to Taehyung’s secluded place.
“And?”
Again, he has no doubts what Jimin’s response must have been.
“I couldn’t really think it through properly, considering Jungkook interrupted with the news of you leaving without me.”
“Mm. So, you are going to think about it, then?”
Jimin’s fingers squeeze his ever so lightly. He stares out his window, immersed in the eeriness of their surroundings as Taehyung pulls up to the gate, presses the toggle on his keys to open it.
“I told him I’ll sign with MYG.”
Taehyung tenses.
“What?”
Jimin looks at him then, for the first time since entering the car. Though his lips do not smile, the corners of his eyes do. “I accepted his unofficial offer. Next month I’ll be signing the official one.”
The gates are open, but Taehyung’s car idles just outside them as he processes this.
“But I’ve given you offers, ones that surely are better than whatever Yoongi has promised you,” he begins, affronted. “Why would you say yes to him?”
Jimin chuckles once. “Because he’s not you, silly.”
Taehyung is confused, feels even more offended. “Because he’s not me?”
Jimin nods, his mouth finally giving away his joy. “When it comes from him, it’s different. I know he’s not offering me a job because I’m his friend, or because he pities me. But because he truly sees something in me.”
“I didn’t offer because…” Taehyung begins, on the defensive.
But Jimin is quick to cut him off, raising his eyebrows at Taehyung’s heightened tone. “I just wouldn’t have felt right if I accepted your offers. We have something too personal for me to just keep taking and taking, and not have anything for you in return.”
“You know I don’t want anything…”
“But it’s not just about that,” Jimin continues. “It’s about how it makes me feel. And as grateful as I feel to know I have you loving me, I feel accomplished when Yoongi recognizes my talent.”
Taehyung gets it, but at the same time he doesn’t. Jimin, for most of his life, has needed to rely on only himself. To accept Taehyung’s easy outs would be like taking a bribe. It probably would put their relationship in a strange position as well. As bothered as he is by this news—Jimin could have been signed so long ago and feeling more fulfilled by now, after all—he chooses to only be happy for him.
“Congratulations, then,” he says finally, willing himself to mean it. “This calls for a celebration.”
Jimin’s already bright smile breaks into a blinding grin. “I’d love that, but let’s save the group celebration for when ink is on paper. You and I can celebrate on our own tonight.”
Fresh out the shower, Jimin walks out of the bathroom in Taehyung’s bathrobe, a white thing much too large he drowns in the cotton. Taehyung, whose earlier horniness has all but died down, keeps his eyes glued to the book in his hands.
He wants Jimin so bad, body aches to feel those instances of their times together. He wants Jimin to love him the way he did before their lives turned upside down, he wants and wants and wants…
But he does nothing to take.
That move is Jimin’s to make.
Jimin crawls up on the bed on his hands and knees, nearly trips forward on the cotton bunched up beneath him. Already, this is different. Jimin is giggly and shining as he pulls himself up, and more importantly he is getting on Taehyung’s side of the bed. Not his own, not the side that feels miles and miles away.
Taehyung closes the book gently, cradles it in his right hand, does not allow himself to get selfish just yet.
Jimin sits before him on his knees, hands clasped in his lap. “What are you reading?” he wants to know.
His hair hangs in wet strands around his pale face, skin slightly flushed from the scalding showers he enjoys so much. Somehow, with the way one of the lamps casts across his face, his lips look bigger, redder, more inviting than ever before. Taehyung licks his own, a phantom feel.
“A book Namjoon recommended,” he answers him, holding the novel out for Jimin to see.
“Demien. Hermann Hesse. Is it good?”
Taehyung shrugs, sets it down next to his pillow. “I haven’t gotten through much of it yet. It’s in English, so it’s taking me a while to understand.”
“You’ll tell me all about it when you’re done?”
He smiles, nods.
Looking a bit hesitant, like he wants to say or do something but cannot bring himself to, Jimin begins chewing on his bottom lip, eyes getting lost somewhere on Taehyung’s bare chest.
Taehyung takes a guess. “You want to cuddle.”
Rather than answering, Jimin takes this as an invitation. He wedges himself between Taehyung’s outstretched legs, sits with his back against the larger man’s chest, and still…still, Taehyung keeps himself from being selfish. His arms remain lifeless on either side of him, useless appendages.
Jimin plays with the belt tied loosely at his front. “I’ve been wondering…about your nightmares,” he says hesitantly. “You haven’t talked in your sleep for a while now. Have they stopped?”
No. No, he keeps waiting for them to leave him be, but, “They come and go. Less than before, but every once in a while…anyway, they’re less often.”
“Good,” Jimin sighs. “It breaks my heart when I hear you screaming and can’t do anything to help.”
Kiss me.
“One thing I fear more than anything is being stuck,” Jimin continues, and Taehyung wonders what is on his mind for him to bring this up now. Hours ago he had wanted nothing more than to ravish Taehyung, and now he is a philosophizing.
Ever the patient person, Taehyung listens aptly regardless.
“I like having options, you know? Room for change, as much as I hate change. An out, if you will.”
Anytime Jimin gets lost in his thoughts lately, Taehyung’s heart panics. It’s as if at any moment those beautiful lips will be telling him they no longer want to be with him. And although both of them have given the other ample time to heal—together and apart—they have not quite hit the rhythm of normalcy.
“It’s always important to have an out,” Taehyung agrees mindlessly.
“You don’t have one in nightmares. You can’t pull the plug on the dream and tell yourself it won’t happen again. I don’t like thinking you’re stuck.”
The thing about Taehyung’s nightmares, though, is that he is always aware of what they are. Though he remains haunted by his father, the moment he sees the man’s face he knows he is in his head. This is the closest to freedom he has been able to achieve, and he is accepting it. He has to, because this is as good as it’s going to get.
Taehyung braves touching Jimin. He rests a palm on his shoulder, barely applies any pressure. He is more hesitant with him now than ever. Even sex has become a passive thing they do to relieve stress and tension, each of them holding back, each of their minds thinking of other things as they try to love each other like before.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Jiminie.”
“Of course I do. I love you, and so I worry.”
Taehyung’s hand squeezes a little harder than he intends. “I love you, too.”
“You asked me how I felt on stage,” Jimin says then, left hand coming up to cup the one on his shoulder. “I felt everything I told you, and something more. I felt like I miss you.”
“You see me every day. We live together, remember?”
Jimin nods, drags Taehyung’s hand down so his arm rests across his chest. “Still, I miss you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jimin sounds exasperated when he says, “I think you’ve apologized enough to make up for things that haven’t even happened yet. You wanna’ know how to make it up to me?”
“Of course.”
Slowly, Jimin undoes the belt keeping his robe together and parts it so he is lying between Taehyung’s legs bare, exposed.
Taehyung’s lower stomach does a little dance, and he is sure Jimin feels the sudden twitch of his cock.
“Touch me. And not the way you have been for the past few months. I want you to love me.”
As badly as he has been waiting for a second of normalcy between them, he finds himself asking, “You’re the one who’s been distant.”
“I’m the one who’s been coming onto you,” argues Jimin. “Making me feel like you’re disgusted with me or something.”
“I could never be—I never was—I’m not.” Taehyung stumbles over the sentence, confused, irritated, and turned on all at once. He moves to sit Jimin up, to face him and read him. But Jimin leans back, presses his lower back into Taehyung’s crotch, igniting his cock.
“I know you aren’t,” he admits softly, both hands coming to a rest atop Taehyung’s clothed thighs. “And I know you’ve been thinking I’m turned off by you, but that was never the case. I just needed to reconcile some things. I thought with enough time both of us would get out of our heads. But that doesn’t seem to be the case, does it?”
No. “No it doesn’t.” Jimin slides Taehyung’s hand over his stomach, skin so sensitive it ripples underneath Taehyung’s palm, and rests it over his left breast bone. Taehyung kneads the muscle there, feels the nipple come to life at his warm touch. Jimin lets out a puff of air. “Why haven’t you said anything until now?”
The blond shrugs. “To be fair, you haven’t said anything either. But I’ve been afraid. Of bringing…anything up, really. We were so fucked up after…,” his last words come out a whisper. “And then you left. And I couldn’t bring it up anymore, not after missing you for an entire month. I just…didn’t want to say anything that could risk this.”
“You’re the one who advocates communication,” Taehyung reminds him.
Jimin runs his hands up and down Taehyung’s thighs absently, grinds subtly against Taehyung’s growing erection. “We were so good at communicating before,” he says melancholically.
“We lost our footing.”
“I want to find it again. I love you too much to be so close yet feel so far away.”
And that is exactly how things have been, and that is exactly what Taehyung will remedy tonight. Because they have attempted healing on their own, they have attempted giving the other space, but sometimes ones medicine is exactly what they think they don’t need. And to say that Taehyung cannot live without Jimin is dramatic and cliché, but at this point it’s the truth. More than he wants Jimin, he needs him. For the sake of his heart. For the sake of his soul.
And Jimin…Jimin needs him, too.
“Taehyung,” Jimin drawls, sitting himself straighter. “Touch me.”
So Taehyung does, because months of repressing himself have caught up to him, and because he yearns for physical affection. And because Jimin’s dick twitches before him as he begs to be loved like he once was.
He runs a hand along the insides of Jimin’s spread thighs, tickling where he knows will elicit the most visceral reactions from the man. Jimin is already panting, cock twitching when Taehyung blows hot air into his ear, rolls at one of his nipples with his other hand. He leans his head back against Taehyung’s shoulder, eyes closed, tongue skimming over his dry lips. Taehyung buries his face in Jimin’s still wet hair, inhales deeply the scent of coconut shampoo and hormones.
“Not just there,” Jimin whispers, breath caught in his throat as Taehyung’s fingers tease at his flinching cock. “Everywhere. I want to feel you everywhere.”
Those few words undo Taehyung so completely, he immediately is transported out of the real world and into Jimin’s bubble. A bubble that consists of just them two, and their animal instincts.
He nuzzles his nose in the crook of Jimin’s neck, one hand palming at his half limp dick, the other smoothing over the fine muscles of his torso. Losing himself in the soft skin, he scribes Jimin’s aroma to his memory, something light and sweet and his.
Jimin shudders against him, heightening Taehyung’s own desire.
“You’re not allowed to hold back,” Jimin breathes, pliant against Taehyung’s body as he revels in the sensations that feel so new after so long. “I want to feel how much you love me.”
The feel of his skin, the scent of his just washed skin, cloud Taehyung’s mind as he lets his body take control, hands moving over Jimin’s silky skin on autopilot. It surprises him how easy it is to get lost in Jimin when he allows himself to enjoy the sensations creeping through him, lightning through his lower extremities.
But this is not how they enjoy making love, front to back, unaware of the other’s pleasures.
Taehyung grabs Jimin’s waist, lifts him off just enough to slide out from under him, and hovers over the shocked man, caging his body in between his arms. He does not have to wonder what the look Jimin gives him means, gaping up at him with an extraordinary neediness; he feels hunger wash over him with an intensity unmatched by any other time he has had Jimin naked underneath him.
Mouth back at Jimin’s neck, hands fighting to get the bathrobe off him, Taehyung nips at the skin there, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jimin before he presses all his weight into him, pinning him into the mattress, constricting him.
Jimin takes his face between his small hands, forces his head up to slam their lips together, licks into Taehyung’s mouth without a hint of trepidation. Just as needy, just as feral, as Taehyung. Lips locked, Jimin reaches for the hem of Taehyung’s shirt, moving fast, impatient, to pull it up and over his head. Both shirtless now, he takes Taehyung by the shoulder blades, pulls him down so their chests are touching, skin buzzing one lover through another, body heat melding until there is no telling whose body is giving off the sparks igniting between them.
Taehyung has a thing for Jimin’s plump lips, the way they pout unintentionally. He makes it a point of sucking on them, reddening them raw, a strange desire overtaking him to not only love this man tonight, but wreck him. He has never before felt a hunger quite like this. He has always been one for slow and tender touches, hesitant but encapsulating.
Jimin turns his face away, chest rising and falling rapidly as he fights to catch his breath.
“Tuh-too much?” Taehyung asks, that familiar strike of panic streaking through his mind.
Jimin blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering as he finds his words. “No. No, just…different.”
“I’ll slow down…”
“Don’t!” His cheeks go red with his next words, bashful but pining. “I like it. That’s how I want it. Like you miss me, too.”
“Fuck, Jimin! I have missed you,” he growls, dipping back down to continue his attack on the blonde’s lips, licking into his mouth with a fervor so unlike him he almost does not recognize himself.
He presses his crotch against Jimin’s, eases into a slow grind that picks up speed almost immediately as Jimin matches his movements. Taehyung feels himself grow, feels Jimin grow with him, and is quick to realize how uncomfortable Jimin’s cock must feel against the cotton fabric of his pants. He releases from the kiss, which gains him an upset whine. He chuckles at the reaction.
When his pants are tossed off to the side somewhere, he slides down the length of Jimin’s body, hands dragging after him to make sure he touches him everywhere, just as he wants. He blows hot breath over Jimin’s cock, hard and at attention. It pulsates at the sensation.
He can feel Jimin’s eyes on him, looks up to meet his waiting gaze. His lips are parted, eyes blown wide, anticipating. “Can I be greedy tonight?” he dares to ask.
Jimin’s breath hitches at the low timbre of Taehyung’s voice. He pauses a beat before responding. “Any way you want it. I trust you.”
Taehyung is done for.
He leaps for the lube in the bedside table—forgoing condoms as usual—and sets it near their naked bodies, ready when they need it. The recovering wounds in his abdomen throb, but only lightly, a hazy pain he can overlook in the heat of the moment.
Taking Jimin by the hips, Taehyung digs his fingers into the flesh there, heart beating loudly in his ears as if they were doing this for the first time. For a man who has avoided touch nearly his entire adult life, Taehyung wants so badly to ravish the beautiful man before him.
He parts Jimin’s legs with a knee, slots between his thighs on his stomach, and ensures that they hold eye contact all the while. Tenderly, teasingly, he laps at the tip of Jimin’s cock, and that is enough to send Jimin writhing in electrifying pleasure.
The organ is hard and hot in his mouth, and he works his tongue around every inch he can get into his mouth, wetting it for comfort. He feels brave today, like he can do anything that will only make Jimin feel the utmost best he can make him feel, and so he raises himself slightly higher over Jimin’s crotch, cock hanging from his mouth. In one swift movement, he takes him as far back as he can into his throat, momentarily swallowing the tip, before gagging and pulling off.
Jimin spasms. “Fuck!”
Licking the spit and precum pooled in the corner of his mouth, Taehyung asks, “Did that feel good?”
Flushed, looking beyond flustered, Jimin nods like a robot, clearly taken aback by Taehyung’s newfound boldness. “Cuh-can you do it again?”
He responds with action, willing despite the discomfort of having something shoved down his throat. Taehyung works Jimin’s cock a few more times in his mouth before taking him into his throat again, holding position against the instinctive reaction of his body to expel the dick.
Jimin moans as his cock rests deep within Taehyung’s throat, hips thrusting forward involuntarily. Unlike all the other times he has given head, Taehyung does not stop him from reacting, bobs on Jimin’s cock and welcomes the face fucking only because he can see Jimin enjoys it. And Jimin’s satisfaction turns him on more than anything.
He comes up for air, Jimin’s hand fisting lightly in his hair. Moon just barely granting them any light tonight, he catches the way Jimin’s eyes sparkle. He is emotional, Taehyung can tell from the way his eyebrows slant down, the way his raw lips mouth unspoken words.
“I missed you much,” he breathes, pulling Taehyung’s face up with two hands to meet his, kissing him like he cannot possibly get enough. “I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so bad, so hard, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Taehyung smiles against the pillowy lips. “Legs in the air,” he directs him not too demandingly, and Jimin is quick to position himself, flexible legs over his head, hole presented and ready.
Taking the bottle of lube in his left hand, Taehyung squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers and slathers the puckered muscles around Jimin’s asshole, massaging him before the damage begins. He is barely stimulating him, yet every touch elicits a minute noise from the blond, who throws his head back and whines.
Working Jimin open is a process Taehyung likes to take slow. Just as he enjoys memorizing his body, he delights at the shuddering reactions to his touches. When he slips two lubed up fingers into Jimin’s opening, Jimin arches off the bed, swallowing him inside, gasps when Taehyung finds the spot he has memorized so well.
“Oh god!” Jimin mewls, fucking himself on Taehyung’s fingers, the slender things not enough to assuage the burning of his insides, but better than nothing. “Please. I want you. Want you so bad.”
Taehyung leans down to kiss him again. Once, twice, hell, three times will never be enough. He always wants to be kissing Jimin, always wants to show and tell him just how much he means to him.
How much he has resented the last few months of passive sex cannot be put into words, and therefore, “I want to do this right. I only ever want things to be right with you and me.”
He massages at Jimin’s prostate incessantly, slips a third finger in as he fucks into him without abandon. He watches Jimin’s pretty cock slap against his naval, streaking precum across the milky skin. Jimin huffs around him, eyes sealed tight as Taehyung spares him not at all. In fact, Taehyung can tell he is close to coming, the way Jimin’s body fights against his fingers, tries to runaway only to come right back for more, more, more.
“Fuck!” Jimin cries again, and Taehyung wonders if Jungkook and Namjoon are home. If they are, the thought does nothing to inhibit him. “Taehyung!” Jimin cries his name, palms pressed flat against the mattress. “Don’t wanna’ come like this. Want you. Inside me. Please.”
“But you’re so beautiful,” Taehyung tells him, half teasingly half wanting to watch some more. “I can’t look away.”
“Ngh!” Jimin groans, body shaking uncontrollably as he gets close.
Too close.
Taehyung pulls his fingers out.
With the same lubed up hand, he reaches for his own cock, relieves some of the pressure that aches down there, rolls his palm over the tip a few times. Jimin is quick to move, getting to his knees and bringing himself close.
“Don’t. I want to make you feel good, too. Let me.” He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, wants to pry it away from his fully erect dick, but Taehyung pushes him back gently.
His voice still does not sound like his when he says, “On my lap.”
Jimin stills for a moment. Taehyung has never taken control like this before, typically leavs it all to Jimin to decide positions and speed and roughness. Jimin likes this though, if the wicked smile that spreads across his bare face is anything to go by, and he willingly complies, pushes Taehyung back against the headboard as he climbs onto his thighs.
“You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” he asks knowingly.
As opposed to loving him, he means. As opposed to the chore that sex has been lately.
Though he knows what Jimin wants to hear, Taehyung replies with a, “No.” Because despite how distant they may feel, having Jimin like this never is just about chasing a need, no. Above all else, it is about worshipping him, and letting him know he deserves it.
Jimin exhales at this, the tautness of his expectant body going slightly limp with disappointment.
“I’m going to fuck you with love. And love you while fucking you.”
At this, Jimin’s neck goes scarlet. His eyes widen with interest, maybe even surprise or confusion.
Taehyung drags his hands over Jimin’s waist, down to his hips, rests them just over his ass. He kneads at the flesh, supple and soft. Arms winding around Taehyung’s neck, Jimin presses his rock hard dick against the larger man’s abs, ruts against him with desperation.
Taehyung moves a hand to his own throbbing cock, a hard thing begging for some attention. He holds it against Jimin’s lower back, allowing him to feel how badly he wants him.
“Taehyung,” Jimin whispers against his neck, face hidden.
He responds by lifting Jimin up gently off his lap, a movement that Jimin follows eagerly, hungry to be fucked. Taehyung’s precum, mingled with the lube at Jimin’s hole, is enough to assuage the friction, and he places the head of his cock at Jimin’s entrance, prods at the hole.
Impatient, Jimin begins to lower himself over Taehyung’s hard member, eyes sealed tight, nails digging into Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s hips cant upwards, driving in deeper, and they both gasp as he bottoms out. They are still for a minute or two, both getting accustomed to the sensation.
“You’re so tight,” Taehyung comments quietly, brushing the still damps hair from Jimin’s forehead.
Jimin is wrapped around him like snake, legs and arms holding them close. “Because you haven’t been loving me right,” he sasses, a comment that earns him a buck from Taehyung’s pelvis, one that almost has him screaming. He bites down hard on his bottom lip to keep from doing so.
“You’ve put up through so much for me,” Taehyung finds himself saying, the thought slipping out despite his efforts to not make this night, this moment, about the past.
Jimin shifts his weight uncomfortably, Taehyung’s cock crying inside him. “Let’s—let’s not bring any of that up right now.”
But the issue has proven to be that they have not been communicating well, and now that his thought is out there, he might as well carry on.
He presses his quivering lips to Jimin’s right clavicle, kisses a spot there, nibbles at the skin, sucks at it until evidence of this moment is marked upon him. “You’ve been so good to me despite everything. You stayed despite everything.”
“Taehyu—ha!” he gasps at the last syllable, Taehyung’s tongue trailing saliva across a nipple, picking up a slow grind. Jimin’s body trembles.
“I won’t ask why—”
“Because I love you!”
“But right now, Jimin…right now I’m going to show how just how much you have healed me. Let me know when—”
“I’m ready!”
Taehyung takes him by the hips, fingers splayed wide for a good grip, and Jimin is light enough to allow him to pick him up. That tiny moment of friction provides enough foreshadow for the pleasure they are about to feel, and Taehyung bucks into him.
Once they’ve started, they cannot stop.
Taehyung begins to thrust with intention now, mind hazy with all that is going on down there and with the way Jimin takes his face roughly, fucking into his mouth with his tongue. Because it takes much more than a simple dicking to get Jimin off.
“Ah!” Jimin grunts with one particularly hard thrust. “Ahh!” again as Taehyung repeats the movement, picking up speed. “Yes,” he half-squeals, predicting what’s coming. “Yes, yes, harder!”
Taehyung nips at his earlobes, his jaw, his nipples. He kisses him all over, feels every just and dip of his spine with his fingertips, touching him everywhere just as he asked for.
“Fuck! So tight,” he laments absently as the walls of Jimin’s insides compress around his cock every time he thrusts.
Jimin whimpers at the praise, leans into Taehyung more so his own cock gets to feel the rub of their stomachs as they continue to hold each other suffocatingly close.
Taehyung reaches between them, palming at Jimin’s dick. He holds it against his own stomach, against his scars, so with every movement Jimin is fucking against him, drenching his hand and body with his precum. He makes it a point of wiping at the wetness, gets the perverted idea to press his drenched fingers to Jimin’s bottom lip.
Eyes unwavering from Taehyung’s, Jimin scoops the index and middle fingers into his mouth with his tongue, sucks around the digits as if sucking Taehyung, hums hungrily around them. Taehyung returns the favor by lapping at his nipples once more, grazing each one gently with his teeth, sending goosebumps running up and down Jimin’s overly sensitive body.
“So good!” he whines, eyes glazed over as he lets the multiple stimulations overtake him.
“You like when I do whatever I want to you?” Taehyung huffs between thrusts.
“Mmm…luh-love it. Love when you love me.”
Taehyung grips Jimin’s cock particular rough, eliciting a high pitched whine that causes him to rock his hips ever faster, the sound of his own balls slapping at Jimin’s bottom joining the cacophony of heavy breaths and unceasing moans and grunts. They both get off on this; the skin-on-skin, the lewd noises, the scent of both their juices mixing together.
Jimin throws his head back in bliss, mouth slack as Taehyung works him over, enough to hurt just right.
Taehyung feels himself losing grip on his body. It is all too overwhelming. The amount of trust Jimin has in him, the gargantuan size of his love for him, the fact that Jimin has granted him permission to let go—lose utter control—when once it had been his biggest fear.
Jimin’s hole tightens around Taehyung’s cock. A lump forms in his throat, his pelvic area seizes. He’s close.
“I’m gonna’ cum,” Taehyung rumbles, leaning back down to get drunk off Jimin’s lips some more.
“Duh-don’t wanna’ come. Not yet. Please.”
“Argh!” he groans as he plunges hard for the last time, slowing down to preserve the moment. “H-how am I supposed to control myself when you look and feel and sound so good?”
Jimin opens his eyes again, and Taehyung is appalled to see them filled with tears, eyelashes shiny. “Don’t want you to stop. Don’t want this to end.”
His body acts of its own accord, hips speeding up, hand stroking Jimin faster, tighter, harder. Jimin screams, has to throw an arm over his mouth to stifle the strangled noise. He moans against his arm, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and though Taehyung is aware they are not tears of pain or discomfort, he cannot help but wipe them away, the sight of them tearing at him. He kisses at the corners of Jimin’s tightly sealed eyes, tastes the salt of Jimin’s excretions, rests his head next to his as he slows his body down once more.
Rocking into Jimin slower now, the sound of their heaving breaths is all that fills the iridescent room. He sighs into Jimin’s ear, reeling from the high his body is recovering from.
“Why are you stopping?” Jimin whimpers quietly, awkwardly in the now peaceful room.
“You said you don’t want to come yet.”
He buries his face into Taehyung’s shoulder, kisses a few times before saying, “But I don’t want you to slow down.”
“Can’t have both Jimin-ah. What do you want me to do?”
“Make me come!” he breathes, breath blowing hot and stifling against Taehyung’s sweaty skin. “Make me come.”
“Shit!” Taehyung growls, and he wraps one arms around Jimin to hold him ever closer, cock buried deep, and resumes pumping into him, hard, harder than before, and Jimin squeals again, hands flying to cover his mouth. “Don’t!” Taehyung grunts, releasing Jimin’s cock to pull the arm away, pinning it behind Jimin’s rocking body. “You sound so good Jimin, so good. Let me hear you.”
“Ungh! Ah! Ah! Sh—ugh!”
Taehyung thrusts blindly, sweat drenched hair falling into his eyes, inhales deeply the smell of Jimin’s shampoo and sweat until he knows nothing of reality but that one smell, loses himself in it and the newly reignited pressure in his lower stomach. He drinks Jimin in, presses their bodies firmly together because even if they were melded, that would not be close enough. He kisses him, fucks him, loves him, drowns in him, forgets his name and who he is as Jimin’s noises fill his ears.
He kneads roughly at the head of Jimin’s cock, feels the small body tremble beneath him, strokes him hard, tight, and then Jimin is wailing. High, loud, unabashed, body shaking beyond his control, Jimin digs his nails into Taehyung’s shoulders as he is hit with his orgasm, Taehyung’s name on his lips.
“Tae-Taehyung! Taehyung! Taehyung!”
Taehyung only comes when Jimin’s own pleasure is too much for him to bear, feeding off the blonde’s rapture, and he grunts numerous times as he spills into him, legs shaking with the release.
They fall to the side, still hooked around each other. They lay there in their juices for a moment, recovering from the highest of their highs, listening to the other’s breathing calm and steady. Spasms continue to rock through Jimin every now and again, his sensitivities rubbing Taehyung’s spent cock as they do. He feels his member softening inside Jimin’s hole, but remains too tired, too blissed out, to pull out, and Jimin does not rush him. In fact, Jimin proceeds to plant fairy kisses along his neck and collarbone, his version of aftercare.
What feels like dozens of minutes later, Taehyung finally rolls off the stifling body beneath him, doing so gently as Jimin moans at the sensation of being emptied out.
“You’ve never talked so much during sex before,” Jimin comments when Taehyung is splayed out on his back next to him.
“It’s never felt this good before.” He turns to look at the flushed body. “How was it?”
Jimin’s lips curl into a smile. “I dare to say it’s the best I’ve ever had.” He rolls onto his stomach, throws an arm around Taehyung’s front, looks up at him through his still wet lashes. “You love me so good.”
“You’re easy to love.”
By no means the first time, he finds himself wondering how in his unlucky stars he ended up with this wonderful being.
Speaking of the stars, they are out in full force tonight, having appeared sometime during their coital. They illuminate the room, a brightness typically brought by the moon. But the moon is nowhere in sight at the moment. It’s just Taehyung, Jimin, and the stars.
“What are you thinking?” Jimin wants to know, and scoots in closer, presses his still wet and naked body against Taehyung’s side.
Taehyung does not know if he even is thinking, but he does know one thing in this very moment; happiness may be fleeting, but right now he holds happiness in his arms.
“I’m thinking I love you. A wonderfully scary amount.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be serious about this?”
“Mm. Wanna’ take a bath with me?”
“Is that even a question?”
Still, they lay there, unable to bring themselves to break apart.
“What are you thinking?” Taehyung returns the question instead.
“About how the skylight is the most beautiful part of this house,” he answers dreamily. “I used to think the only thing that brought me comfort is the daytime, sunlight. But lately, I’ve been finding comfort in the moon as well.”
Taehyung’s lips part with a sudden pop.
Jimin is quick to fret, head leaving Taehyung’s shoulder to better read his expression. “What’s wrong?”
Taehyung fingers through the blond hair, brings Jimin back down to cuddle him. “For me, the comfort has always been the moon. But you…you’re my sunlight, Park Jimin.”