Chapter Text
His
eyes look sharp and steady
Into the empty parts of me
But still my heart is heavy
With the hate of some other man's beliefs
-
Taehyung has never committed a sin.
But aren’t we all born sinners?
His hand trembles on the doorknob. Expectation is a knife, twisting inside his guts in a way that feels sort of dreadful — the blurred border of something good and frightening at the same time.
This is it. This is what God has planned for him, or at least that’s what his parents always say. He was always to attend a renowned university, to make Him proud in other ways than the ones he already does. If he’s honest, as much as he believes in the sacred plans God has for him, Taehyung isn’t sure what all of that means. Would God be proud of him for getting As in calculus? Is He concerned with such mundane accomplishments?
He shakes his head. These are the kinds of thoughts he shouldn’t foster. The minister had said not to doubt or question the Lord.
And Taehyung has never, not really. He has done everything He intended for him. From being an altar server during his high school years to fully joining a missionary program for the past two years, where he built community houses with other congregation members.
Taehyung knew a lot about the world, about evil and misguided behaviours. Although he has never experienced any of those reranged actions, he knows college life can be quite… unholy.
The thought makes something stir inside him.
He exhales and looks around the empty common room. Everything seems fine. No signs of chaos or misconduct. The peacefulness of it eases his mind, and he finally turns the doorknob.
At the same time, someone pulls the door open.
“Sorry!” Taehyung flinches back, letting the knob go as if it burns him. “I’m so sorry!”
Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, the guy looks oddly neat for early in the morning (on a Sunday!). His blond, curly hair is moussed, and his eyes a bit red from sleep. Perhaps he woke up early for church.
Taehyung smiles.
“Hi, I’m your new roommate,” he says, offering a hand. “Taehyung Kim.”
The guy frowns at his stretched hand, the wrinkles in his freckled forehead revealing he’s a bit older than Taehyung expects. But just like he’s starting college at twenty-two, people in their late twenties can do the same.
“Uh, sorry. I don’t go here,” the man says, ignoring his greeting and making a funny. “If you’re looking for— uh—” his face blanks for a moment, and then he shakes his head, “Anyway, your roommate is in the shower. I gotta go.” He nods and walks past Taehyung.
Their shoulders bump, the smell of alcohol lingering around the stranger. Whoa, the term hasn’t even started, and people are already partying? It was nice of his roommate to offer his drunk friends someplace safe to stay.
Taehyung opens his mouth to say something else, but the guy moves past him too quickly, dashing out of the dorm.
“Oh, you must be the new guy!” An excited voice calls him, and Taehyung whips his head to look at the room again.
His slacken jaw remains open when he looks at the person standing in the middle of their room. He has a similar complexion as Taehyung, but his eyes and nose are bigger, his wet hair longer, reaching his cheeks and dripping around his face. His skin is tanned, it is pretty evident by the lack of shirt and the ridiculous size of his sports shorts — or was it just baggy underwear? Is there such a thing as baggy underwear?
Sprinkles of moisture accumulate in his collarbones, and Taehyung can’t help but notice the muscles carved in his new roommate's arms and abdomen.
Taehyung gulps, cheeks blushing. He has seen his friends shirtless before, but they didn’t look like this . They were all lanky and soft, skin pale from wearing so many polo shirts even during peak summer. They were never this firm and this wet.
“I guess you met… Chad?” The guy scrunches his nose in thought, no wrinkles visible in his face. “Brad? Definitely one of the two,” he smiles blindly and stretches a hand. “I’m Jungkook.”
Between looking at the man’s toothy smile and his hand, Taehyung’s eyes flick to his chest again. His belly fills with panic as he opens his mouth just to close it shut the next second.
His roommate lifts an intrigued eyebrow, and Taehyung finally reacts. He shakes his hand weakly, cringing when he notices how sweaty his palms are. “I’m— I— Taehyung.”
Jungkook presses his lips in a smile. “Nice shirt.”
Taehyung looks down at his own clothes, suddenly unaware of what he’d chosen to wear. The large t-shirt with a Haku print. Suspiciously, Taehyung blinks at him blankly.
“Uh, thanks?”
Jungkook smiles but keeps a curious gaze on Taehyung. “Well,” he says, looking around. “Welcome, roomie.”
Finally, Taehyung checks the space that will be his home for the next four years. The room is spacious, two big windows on the wall across him face the campus. Under the windowsills, single beds. To grant each of them some sort of privacy, there’s a shelf unity dividing the room in half, desks attached to it.
His side of the room is empty, but Jungkook’s half is bright with colors and ornaments. The wall beside his bed is filled with posters and pictures. The larger one is of a group of women in a volleyball court, another one shows a blueprint of a house, and around those, small pictures of what looks like Jungkook and friends. His eyes linger on the last poster, a volleyball painted in the colors of the rainbow.
Taehyung snatches his eyes off the other’s space when he notices Jungkook looking at him, intrigued. For some reason, his skin prickles hot, and he hurries to drag his suitcases across the carpeted floor.
It’s only when he’s next to his bed that he notices the sheets are clean and smooth. Whoever slept here didn’t use his bed. This is odd. Something crawls under his skin, he isn’t sure what.
“Ah, don’t worry,” Jungkook says, as if reading his mind. “I don’t usually bring people over, unless I have the room to myself.”
Taehyung nods. “I don’t mind if you want to have friends over if they need a place to crash.”
“Oh.” Jungkook frowns, pressing his lips to bite back a smile. “He wasn’t a friend.”
Taehyung shoots up his brows. “No? Do you bring strangers over?”
Jungkook crosses his arms and cocks his hips to the side. He keeps looking at Taehyung with that funny face that he can’t quite read. “He wasn’t a stranger. I met him at the bar yesterday.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Uh, I guess it could be—”
“Jungkook Jeon! The term hasn’t officially started, and you’re already getting your dick wet?” Another guy wearing the same kind of tiny shorts — but thankfully wearing a tank top — storms into the room. His voice is high-pitched and his gestures wide, but they all die down when he sees Taehyung, and his eyes go comically wide. “Oh, damn! Two at the same time?” He drops his jaw, turning to his friend. “ Jungkook , you whore! You’re setting the bar even higher!”
Taehyung chokes on his own spit, hurrying to say, “I’m—What? No!”
“Hello to you too, Jimin,” Jungkook says, deadpan, giving his friend a pointed glance. “This is Taehyung, the new roommate.”
The Jimin guy walks into their room without being invited, and loops an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, patting his naked chest as if he’s used to it. “Ops, sorry, man,” he smiles, eyes squeezing shut in small crescent moons. “And hi Taehyung, I’m Jimin, I live just down the hall.”
Taehyung knows he should smile, should be polite, but he’s too shocked to react. Instinctively, his hands fly to his chest, feeling the rosary hidden under his shirt. Even through the fabric, his skin burns around the cross.
His brain engines turn, and Taehyung might not have seen much in life, but he knows what a walk of shame looks like.
His roommate had a man over.
His skin prickles. An odd sensation pools in his stomach, like it wants to turn his insides out.
“Hi. I— uh, I should unpack,” he says, heat crawling up through his neck. The room spins when he turns back to his luggage too quickly, eyes boring on the blue plastic of his suitcase.
He doesn’t miss the way the other two share a glance. Jimin shrugs and says, “Alright. Come and help me unpack, too, Jungkook. I wanna know how you ruined this poor guy's life this time.”
“Oh, do you?” Jungkook teases as they leave the room.
Taehyung releases a deep exhale when he’s finally alone, but even though he pushes all the air out of his lungs, he feels suffocated.
Without thinking, he takes off the rosary as if it's the cause of the pressure around his neck. He places it carefully on his desk, staring at it with a weird intensity. The necklace is as old as himself, its small wooden beads worn out from rolling in between his fingers so many times, but the silver cross is as bright as ever. At the center of his rosary, the medal of Saint Benedict, a protection against evil and temptation.
It was a baptism gift, a promise from early days that he would be protected from fallen angels and foreign gods if he prayed enough. He likes the word promise. It feels less like a burden, more like something to hope for. What should he hope for? He isn’t sure. Salvation? Compassion? Forgiveness? All of it combined? Whatever it is, Taehyung hopes he will get it.
There isn’t much to unpack besides clothes and a few personal items. His laptop and Nintendo Switch are placed right beside the rosary. He looks around his new room, empty and devoid of character — unlike the other half, where Jungkook has decorated every inch of the space.
Maybe he should’ve brought some of his plushies, but wouldn’t that be childish? Perhaps he could get posters, too. There must be a nice store somewhere in this town with generic, harmless prints.
He exhales, suddenly as misplaced as ever. It’s a familiar sensation that settles in his chest as he finishes unpacking in silence, suddenly too aware that this is just about to become another place he’ll never belong to.
He stares at the rosary on his desk. Coming here was probably the hardest decision he ever made, being away from everything he knew his whole life. He had wondered for so long if this should feel like a new beginning, a chance to become someone new, but— God had a plan for him, he had been told.
Taehyung trusts Him.
As he thinks, the first words of Our Father form on his tongue before he even touches the beads.
“Our Father who art in—”
“Hey—” Jungkook interrupts, entering the room unceremoniously, his words aborted when he looks at the rosary in Taehyung’s desk, close to his fingertips.
Taehyung flinches, pulling his hand away like he was burned. The movement spikes the other’s curiosity, and he steps closer into his space. The intrusion leaves Taehyung uncomfortable, his shoulders rising instantly.
This time, at least, Jungkook is a bit more decent, although barely. The tank top is tight, highlighting his toned shoulders. On the right one, a large beige patch stretches across the curve of his muscle, covering part of a tattoo that Taehyung should’ve noticed before but he didn’t. It looks like a moon covered in clouds, all black and grey.
“Oh, you’re a Catholic?” Jungkook asks, looking at the rosary.
Taehyung blinks at him, looking away from that tattoo. He tries to read the mild mockery in his voice. It’s so subtle, he isn’t sure it’s real.
“I— Yes. Is that a problem?” His defenses rise, and his cheeks burn.
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, staring at him with a hint of incredulity. “No?”
With a dry mouth, Taehyung squares his shoulders. “Good.”
His roommate doesn’t make an effort to disguise the amusement on his face. He shrugs and walks to the door. “Alright. The others want to meet you.”
“Others?” Taehyung frowns, but Jungkook ignores him. “Wait! Which others?”
Jungkook holds the doorway and leans his head back. “The other guys. Come!”
It’s only then that he notices noise coming from the common room, loud laughs and rushed voices. He hasn’t given thought to who else he would share the student accommodation with.
“He’s coming!” He hears Jungkook shouting in the common area. His enthusiasm makes Taehyung even more nervous.
He snatches the rosary from his desk and hangs it around his neck, carefully tucking it inside his shirt.
The common room is a wide, rectangular space with big windows that let lots of natural light in. It's a living room and a kitchen in the same space, divided by a large island with four seats. The kitchen itself is just a counter with a stove and fridge on the corner, and most importantly, a microwave; enough for boys who probably live on instant ramen and frozen meals.
On the other side is where the room gains life. A large, worn-out blue couch faces the wall, where a big TV is hung. There’s an equally shabby armchair against the window and a ratty rug on the floor. It all looks old, but incredibly lived in. Perhaps it’s the group of six men squeezed into the limited seats, chatting and laughing with drinks in hand. Maybe it could be the decoration in the room. He hadn’t noticed when he walked past the space before, but the wall around the TV looks a lot like Jungkook’s part of the room. Posters of women playing volleyball cover every inch of the dark blue wallpaper. On top of the TV, a large banner reads BTS in golden letters, the illustration of a black bird with a yellow beak slamming a ball with its wing.
It’s an odd choice of decoration for sure, but—
“Oh, here he is!” Jungkook says. “Guys, this is Taehyung.”
Everyone turns to face him with expectation. Taehyung raises a hesitant hand and waves.
“Yoongi brought beers,” a smiling guy talks with wide gestures and over-the-top excitement. “Get one!”
“Uh, I don’t drink much,” he says in a small voice. To put it like this is a stretch. The wine from the holy communion isn’t exactly enough to configure drinking . “I’m good.”
“There’s sports drinks, too,” another guy, this one with sharp eyes and a lazy voice, adds. He doesn’t wait for Taehyung to reply, simply stands up and walks to the fridge to get him a blue Gatorade. Taehyung looks at his pale hands, two of his bony knuckles wrapped around white tape. “Here.”
Taehyung smiles nervously, accepting the drink. “Thank you.”
“Come here, let’s do a round of introductions!” This time, Jimin, the one Taehyung met earlier, suggests. “Name, major and positions!”
Before Taehyung has to decide where to sit — his only option being the floor — the same man who handed him the Gatorade is already placing a stool in the seating area.
Taehyung takes his seat with a thankful nod. He bounces his legs as he takes in the group in front of him. All of them smile expectantly at him, like kids about to get a new puppy. Jungkook is the one who looks more intrigued, slightly squinting as if to read him better. Another guy, one who is absurdly beautiful to be a college student, looks at him with a curve on his lips that seems more purposeful than the excited smiles the others foster.
The day is hot, which explains why all of them are wearing sports shorts and tank tops or sleeveless jerseys. And Taehyung can’t help but notice how nice they look. All of them. Lean, strong arms, perfect posture. Their messy, dark hair doesn’t come across as a lack of care. It looks like they all purposefully styled it this way.
Although all of them look nice, Taehyung can’t help but notice Jungkook the most. His roommate takes up a sort of space that the others don’t. Not only physically — his legs are spread, arms perched on the back of the sofa — but also his presence is… something else. His eyes are sharp and round at the same time, so steady on Taehyung, it brings a chill down his spine. He doesn’t like it, not after what he just learned about Jungkook.
There’s something about Jungkook he can’t pinpoint. Taehyung urges to look away, but he feels a tug inside him that makes it impossible not to sustain Jungkook’s gaze, even if it burns him, even if it makes him a bit suffocated.
His heart sits weirdly in his chest, but gladly, someone starts talking.
“Hi, Taehyung! Welcome to our dorm. I’m Namjoon,” the guy with a buzzcut starts. His dimpled smile is gentle, his voice low but steady, reliable. He’s seated in the armchair, unbothered by the cheerful guy perched on the armrest, leaning on him. “I’m an English major, hoping to graduate next year, and I’m a middle blocker.”
Taehyung curves an eyebrow, ready to inquire, but the next guy — the pretty one — is already talking.
“Hey, I’m Seokjin! But just Jin works.” He winks at Taehyung and raises his beer in a toast. “I’m majoring in Psychology, but please don’t ask me for free advice—”
“Unless you want to ruin your life,” Jimin mutters from over the rim of his drink, making everyone laugh.
“Don’t listen to sophomores, they think they know something, but they’re just upgraded freshmen,” he huffs in fake offense, and Jimin sticks a tongue out while Jungkook boos him. “Besides giving amazing advice, I also distract the opponents with my charms.”
“He means he’s an opposite hitter,” the Gatorade guy adds, pointing his beer can at Seokjin.
“And a defensive specialist!” Seokjin adds, lifting a finger.
Taehyung follows the fast-paced conversation, a bit overwhelmed. They speak quickly and casually, clearly too familiar with each other. Lost, his eyes drift to Jungkook — the closest thing to a familiar face he gets — and he finds him already staring at him, and darts his eyes as fast as possible. His hands clench around the drink he’s holding.
“Hi, I’m Yoongi,” the Gatorade guy says in a dragged but warm voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m in my fourth year in graphic design, and I’m a libero. Namjoon, Seokjin and I live upstairs.”
The person perched on Namjoon’s armchair claps loudly and smiles big. “I am Hoseok, but I go by Hobi! I’m a Kinesiology student and an opposite hitter. It looks like we’re sharing the floor, so if these two are bothering you, please let me know,” he points at Jimin and Jungkook, who glare at him ironically.
Taehyung smiles at Hoseok, feeling something similar to ease for the first time. From the corner of his eyes, he catches Jungkook’s ironic glance, changing to a sweet smile at his friend.
“He says that, but he lives upstairs basically!” Jimin interjects. “Hi Taehyung, we’ve met already, but I’m Jimin,” he says in a way that carries a slight challenge, a hint of interest that leaves Taehyung uncomfortable. He must be imagining things. “Health Studies student, and of course, I’m the most important member of this team, the setter,” he says, putting his beer can in the middle of his legs and splaying his palms in front of him as if the gesture would help Taehyung to understand the importance of what he’s saying.
Taehyung blinks blankly, clearly not delivering the reaction Jimin was expecting by the face he makes and the giggles he gets from the others.
“And the humblest as well, as you can see.” Seokjin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yah!” He yelps when Jimin hits him in the head with a cushion.
“Don’t block my light!”
“But that’s my specialty.” Seokjin pouts.
“It’s a pot meets kettle situation, you see,” Namjoon deliberates with the same gentle smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Or not,” Hoseok says with a funny face.
Taehyung laughs nervously, watching as Seokjin and Jimin continue bickering.
But his attention drifts to the edge of the couch, where Jungkook is seated, not paying attention to the commotion by his side. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks, finger trailing the lid of his beer can slowly. His eyes assess Taehyung so intensely that he has to grip the edges of the stool.
“Hi, roomie,” he says with a smirk right before taking a large gulp of his beer without breaking eye contact. It’s obnoxious. Taehyung wants him to shut up, but he has just said two words. What the hell. “I’m a sophomore in the architecture school, and I’m an outside hitter.” He whistles, lifting a hand in the air and hitting something invisible.
Jungkook’s introduction is brief like the others, and as much as Taehyung is glad, he realizes he stays in silence, waiting for more information. He only realizes it’s his time to talk when all the eyes in the room move toward him, expectant.
“Uh, okay,” he breathes out a nervous laugh, “I’m Taehyung, I’ll be majoring in Civil Engineering.”
“Whoaaa,” Seokjin yelps, face lighting in mirth. “That will be interesting. I’m curious to see how you two will build this relationship!”
“What?” Taehyung asks, confused.
“Of course it’s gonna be built on truss , Jin,” Yoongi adds with a gummy smile.
“Will it? ‘Cause I have concrete evidence architects and engineers are rivals,” Jimin jumps in, holding back his laugh.
“Nonsense, Jimin!” Hoseok jumps to his feet, barely holding his laugh, “I’m sure they’re gonna nail this roommate thing!”
“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans as he laughs, tipping his head back on the rest of the couch.
While Taehyung’s eyes jump from face to face, trying to follow the pace of this nonsense, everyone looks at Namjoon, as if waiting for his contribution.
“Uh.” Namjoon widens his eyes, licks his lips nervously. Hoseok pats him on the shoulder, murmuring some encouragement. “As long as they have a good foundation , they’ll be fine!”
Everyone bursts into cheers, lifting their drinks and clicking them in a toast. Even Jungkook leans forward, arms raised up, leaving Taehyung even more disoriented.
“Fuck, that was good, Namjoon!” Jin also stands up with his palm raised, and contrary to Taehyung’s expectations, he high-fives Hoseok
“Finally,” Yoongi mutters, smiling pleased. He leans against the couch and takes a sip of his beer.
Taehyung doesn’t quite follow, but the silliness of it all makes him comfortable. These seem like good people, even though his own roommate is not what he expected. This could be good, this could be—
“So, what do you play?” Namjoon asks.
Taehyung turns to him too fast, tilting on his stool. He steadies himself with a foot on the floor, frowning.
“A lot of things, but Zelda, the most recent one— Tears of the Kingdom .” He says way too excitedly for someone too unsure.
They all laugh as if he just told them a joke.
“That was a good one, he can stay,” Hoseok says with a loud clap.
“Now, for real, which team are you on?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung laughs, too, but it dies soon when the others keep staring at him. This is not a joke. That’s when Taehyung pays attention to the people in front of him: the athletic clothes, the toned arms. Then he looks around: the posters, the banner…
“I’m not.”
Yoongi frowns. “That’s odd.”
“They usually put sports people together,” Namjoon comments.
“Apparently, they also put Asians together,” Seokjin scoffs.
“Wait, so you’re all… in the same team?” Taehyung asks, eyes jumping from face to face in the room.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “We literally just told you our positions.”
“Like in soccer?” Taehyung asks, slipping to the edge of the stool. “Isn’t there supposed to be a goalie?”
“Soccer?” Hoseok chokes on a laugh. “What are we? Straight people?”
Seokjin raises a hand and interjects, “There are gay people playing soccer, Hobi.”
“Name one,” Yoongi challenges, curling an eyebrow.
The silence stretches in the room for the first time. Taehyung feels dizzy, disoriented. He clutches the Gatorade bottle close to his chest.
“I don’t know soccer,” Seokjin bursts out, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m a volleyball player.”
“Poor thing, he’s confused,” Namjoon says, pointing at Taehyung. “We’re in the university volleyball team,” he explains, folding his hands on his lap. “This building is actually a residence for student athletes.”
At the same time a lot makes sense, things get even more confusing for Taehyung. What the hell is he doing here?
“Second and third floor are the BTS players,” Jimin chimes in, gesturing around. “The fourth floor is home to the swimming team. The building on our left is where the hockey and lacrosse players live, but don't go there.” He widens his eyes and scrunches his nose. “It smells.”
Hoseok nods in agreement. “Building on our right it’s the rowing team. They’re safe.”
“I’m sorry? BTS?” That's all Taehyung manages to say, overwhelmed with all the information that is suddenly hitting him from all angles. “What’s that for?”
“ Block, Tip and Spike ,” Hoseok says smartly, wiggling his brows. Whatever that means, Namjoon seems proud, clicking their beer cans together.
Taehyung simply looks at them, completely clueless.
Jimin clears his throat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning slightly forward. “Or, if you actually have some class, it means Born to Serve. ”
Namjoon sighs. “Volleyball jokes don't work on him, guys.” He turns to Taehyung with an apologetic face. “It’s an abbreviation for Bay Town Starlings.”
Now that actually means something. Taehyung lifts his gaze to the banner over the TV, the black bird hitting a volleyball. It’s a starling, a bird commonly found in their region. Probably even a native of the city of Bay Town.
As soon as things start to make sense to Taehyung, Jungkook speaks, voice full and amused, “But, unofficially, BTS stands for Bottoms, Tops and Sides.”
And if things were chaotic before, they reach another level after his joke. Hoseok throws himself on the floor with a loud laugh. Jimin and Seokjin squeal so loudly, Jungkook winces. Yoongi chokes on his beer mid-drink, sprinkling everything on his t-shirt, and Namjoon rolls his eyes but cannot avoid the beam on his face.
Taehyung wants to laugh, too; he feels he has to, so he lets out a nervous giggle and asks. “Wha— What does that mean?”
“Well, we’re divided into tops here,” Jungkook says, raising his hand. Jimin and Seokjin follow, and they all smack their hands together in a weird top-up. “And the bottoms,” Jungkook gestures towards Namjoon and Hoseok, who tilt their heads until they touch. “And Yoongi is the side.”
Something is still missing for Taehyung. This is probably a volleyball thing, perhaps a ranking. But why is it funny that Namjoon and Hoseok consider themselves bottoms? Shouldn’t they want to be on top of the team? And what does side even mean?
And that’s what he asks. “Side?”
Yoongi puffs his chest up. “It means I’m not interested in topping or bottoming.”
Taehyung nods slowly.
Probably noticing his blank face, Jungkook interjects. “It means he doesn’t like taking up the ass,” he says bluntly, making a circle with his index and thumb and inserting a finger in the middle.
Taehyung widens his eyes, the air escaping his lungs in a shocked gasp.
“Oh my god,” Namjoon groans. “Don’t be so crude.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Sorry, it means he doesn’t like dipping the biscuit, if you will.”
“If you’re asking what he does,” Jimin promptly explains (no, Taehyung is definitely not asking), flicking his hand in the air, “it involves basically everything like hand jobs, blowjobs, frotting, rutting—”
“Thank you very much, guys,” Yoongi interrupts, suppressing a smile. “I think Taehyung is really digging this conversation.” And he tips his head towards Taehyung’s direction.
Taehyung’s pulse rushes so fast he can hear it in his eardrums. His heart hammers and his skin prickles, and he must look pale even though he feels heat crawling all over his body, because everyone looks at him, slightly concerned.
The silence falls over the room.
They’re waiting for him to say something, but his mind is in a haze, running in circles, trying to escape his main thought, but it’s useless, it’s impossible–
“Are you all…?”
“Incredible?” Seokjin huffs. “Absolutely.”
“The best at serving puns?” Jungkook fires a finger gun.
“Yep, but one serve at a time,” Yoongi completes, lifting his hand for a high five.
“Korean?” Jimin asks, and he also replies, “Partly. My mom and Seokjin’s dad are Canadians, and Hobi’s half Japanese.”
“He might be asking insane,” Hoseok barks a laugh, enjoying the chaos.
Everyone is laughing and amused by the situation, but Taehyung’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, rough like paper sand. His breathing is hard, the weight around his neck suffocating once again. He can’t feel his fingers, so tightly wrapped around the Gatorade bottle.
“I was gonna say…gay?” He asks in a voice so small it’s a surprise people listen.
But they do, it’s clear by the quietness that falls once again. And Taehyung regrets saying it so badly, he shuts his eyes for a second, wishing he could go back two seconds just to clasp a hand over his mouth.
The guys look at each other for a minute.
For reasons he can’t say, he chooses Jungkook to stare. The grin on his face is wicked, so pleased it makes Taehyung’s gut twist.
“Very much,” Jungkook says proudly, crossing one leg over the other exaggeratedly, brow arching just a bit, almost as if challenging him.
Taehyung gulps, pulls the collar of his shirt to let some air around his throat.
Jimin shrugs. “I'm bi. I kissed a girl once,” he says casually. “I could kiss another if I want.”
“I prefer to call it queer,” Hoseok says, and Yoongi nods.
“Short answer is: yes,” Namjoon adds. “We’re all out and very proud of being the first and only Bay Town University varsity team to be all queer.”
“What about you?” Jimin asks enthusiastically. “What do you dig?”
Even before he answers, Jungkook scoffs. Taehyung glances at him quickly, cornered by his presence.
“I’m norm— not gay,” Taehyung spurts out, correcting himself at the last second.
“Bi, then?”
“Pan?”
His throat closes at each question, a taste so unpleasant in his mouth, Taehyung thinks for a second he’s about to vomit. What is happening? How did he end up in a gay dorm? Taehyung is good at maths, but the statistics are completely insane. If his parents know about this, if people from the congregation—
He looks at Seokjin, then at Yoongi, and he feels so out of place that he considers running, but his legs are rooted in place. “I’m straight.” He affirms, then, feeling the urge to make things clear. “And catholic!”
“Oh, I am catholic, too!” Seokjin touches his chest in surprise.
Taehyung gapes. “For real?” The disbelief in his tone too latent.
“Yes, why?’
“Because you’re gay,” he blurts out as if it’s obvious. Well, it’s pretty obvious to him.
The silence this time is awkward, filled with surprise, but not the positive kind. People nod, humming lowly. Taehyung can basically see the engines turning in their heads, as if he just said the worst possible thing, and they don’t know what to do with him now.
As panic settles in the pit of his stomach, he realizes the only person who doesn’t seem to be assessing the situation is Jungkook. He’s unbothered, as if he has read all of Taehyung just by staring intensely at him in the past thirty minutes.
Seokjin shifts in his seat, finally saying, “So?”
“The church doesn’t exactly like… the gays.’
“But god loves us all, doesn’t he?”
Taehyung smiles faintly, something in his gut twisting nervously. “I suppose so.”
“Jesus was definitely an ally,” Jimin hums, pondering.
Jungkook looks at him with an incredulous face, but Jimin simply nudges him with an elbow.
“And allies are always welcome!” Hoseok tries to sound positive.
Taehyung forces a smile. He clears his throat, fitting the bottle and both of his hands between his knees and looking down. His heart races so fast that he is pretty sure everyone in the room can hear.
It’s not right. He feels like a liar, and lying is a sin. He isn’t an ally. He was never taught how to be one, barely knows what the word means. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Taehyung was taught that people like them are sinners, the ones who didn’t have enough faith to go against temptation, against evil . They are the ones who walked away from God.
Then why do they look so… nice ? And so… manly ? They are so unlike the picture the congregation paints of gay men.
“Anyway, I know it can be overwhelming to be around so many of us,” Jimin says gently. “We can go too deep sometimes,” he chuckles.
Taehyung whips his head in surprise. He wasn’t expecting this. Yes. Yes, it is.
“Yeah, a bit,” he says. “I’ve never been around so many…”
Yoongi hums, offering him a soft smile.“It might help if you know our schedules.”
Taehyung freezes at that. “Schedule?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook says, crossing one leg over the other. “Saturday afternoon is group play day, you know, just to relieve some tension, and on Thursday night we have watch parties!”
Taehyung chokes on his own breath. “Watch parties?!”
“Yeah,” Namjoon adds with excitement. “We like watching, too.”
Taehyung’s eyes grow in utter disbelief.
“I know you’re not into it, but it would be cool if you could join us,” Seokjin says, contemplatively.
Now Taehyung might be innocent and inexperienced, but he isn’t dumb. He has barely arrived, and these people are already inviting him to… be one of them?! Don’t they have any shame?!
His hand flies to his chest, and he touches the cross hidden under his shirt. He needs to calm down.
“Join you in… group plays?”
Hoseok laughs at his panic. “Okay, that might be too much for you, but the watch parties are cool.”
“Yeah!” Jimin raises his beer. “Easy way to bond! ”
Taehyung looks between them, trying to find a way out without sounding offensive. “I don’t know— I’m not sure, I’ve never—”
“Oh my god, you never watched a volleyball game?” Yoongi shrieks, giving him a face.
“I mean, I know you’re not a jock, but you don’t have to be one to watch sports,” Namjoon points out politely.
“Vo—Volleyball?” Taehyung stutters.
Everyone looks at him with a funny, confused face, and he feels heat crawling up his cheeks.
Oh my god. They have been talking about volleyball this whole time!
He breathes out a loud exhale, his shoulders sag in relief. “Volleyball, yeah! Watch together. That I can do.”
It’s much later — way later than expected — when Taehyung gets out of the shower. The others stayed in the common area, still talking and drinking as if they didn’t have classes to attend the next day. Taehyung didn’t want to show up late or looking like a mess, so he excused himself first and went to rub off the exhaustion of this long, weird day off of him.
The small, shared bathroom is damp with steam, and Taehyung rushes to wrap the towel haphazardly around his waist and steps into the fresh air of the room.
Lying on the floor, right in front of the bathroom door, is Jungkook, scrolling on his phone casually. The moment Taehyung realizes he’s not alone, he grips the towel tightly, taking a step back.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” He looks down at himself, at his exposed chest, red from the hot water, but burning for other reasons. He nods to the bed, where his pyjamas are. “I need to get my clothes real quick and change, then the bathroom is yours.”
Jungkook raises his eyes from his phone lazily, sprawling his legs even further on the floor.
“Don’t sweat it, church boy.” He shrugs, still looking at the screen. He bends his knees, his tiny shorts pooling around his thighs, revealing more of his toned muscles. “You can change wherever you want.”
Taehyung shakes his head, clenching his jaw at the nickname. “No, I’m— I’m good.”
Jungkook stops, tosses his phone on the floor by his side, and props up on his elbows. “Wait, you’re not afraid of getting naked in front of me, are you?”
Of course he is.
“No.”
“You totally are.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with mirth. He sits upright, eyebrows rising up. “You should've seen your face earlier, you thought we were inviting you for a swing, didn’t you? Or for some weird voyeur experience.”
The words hit Taehyung square in the chest, burning every single bit of his exposed skin. He wants to deny, even opens his mouth to do so, but nothing comes out.
Jungkook is amused to read him so easily. He smirks, then rolls his eyes as he stands up in a swift jump. “Chill, dude. Don’t need to be scared of the gays .” He walks towards Taehyung for a second, flicking his chin. “We don’t bite.” Then he pauses, taking all of Taehyung in with dark, hooded eyes. “Unless you want us to.” He winks and passes by, brushing their shoulders.
The floor vanishes from Taehyung’s feet for a second.
When he finally finds it in him to turn, the words of complaint choke him. Inside the steamy bathroom, Jungkook walks to the shower half-naked , his shirt on the floor.
His back is broad and muscular, but his waist is so tiny and dainty it gives Taehyung whiplash. Before he can even think of looking away, Jungkook kicks the door closed with a giggle, as if he knows Taehyung’s been staring.
His mouth dries instantly, a wave of pure heat crossing his entire body so fast he feels dizzy. A pit opens on his navel.
Turning on his heels with his heart hammering in his throat, Taehyung dashes to his bed. His limbs tremble as he tries to get into his pyjama bottoms, the sense of balance so lost he almost trips on his own feet. He pushes the shirt through his head, leaving it stuck right under his armpits as he snatches his rosary he left on his nightstand.
Maybe these are the so-called tests God puts in the way to check His son’s faith.
Even though his flushed skin feels hot, he throws the duvet over his head. Under the covers, Taehyung prays for sleep to come soon, prays for all the lost souls, prays for Saints to keep him away from temptation, from what’s forbidden. Moreover, he prays to never again feel this thrill crossing his navel.
The first week of college is so overwhelming and intense, Taehyung barely has time to think about what happened on his first day. Except he does, every night when he goes to bed, and he listens to Jungkook giggling to his phone on the other side of the room. He closes his eyes, and he still can see Jungkook’s back, broad and tanned, popping into his lids.
On Friday morning, he rushes out of the room like he does every day as Jungkook showers after his morning run. So far, he’s been good at avoiding everyone, but today, he steps into the common room and finds Jimin in the kitchen area. He’s still in running shorts and a tank top, face flushed and dark hair sticking to his forehead.
The blender is on, its shrieking noise rattling through the room. Taehyung waves at him quickly and politely, ready to mind his own business when the noise stops.
“Hey,” Jimin calls him. “Leaving without breakfast?”
“Uh.” Taehyung looks around the room nervously. “Yeah.”
“Then it’s your lucky day, cause I forgot Hobi isn’t eating with us today, and I made extra,” he says casually, pouring the thick, green liquid from the blend into three glasses.
He grips the strap of his backpack tightly, then meets Jimin’s gaze. The guy smiles, genuine and kind, and Taehyung has never been good at saying no to people, so he nods and takes a seat.
“What did you make?” Taehyung searches for bread, eggs, cereal, anything , on the counter, but finds nothing but the glasses full of green slob.
“It’s just—”
“Oh, nice, I’m right on time for brekkie,” Jungkook's voice interrupts them from the other side of the room. Taehyung turns on the stool, regretting the moment he sees Jungkook approaching. His long hair is wet on the edges, and he walks wearing only sweatpants, the t-shirt slung over his shoulder.
What has shirts ever done to this man, frankly?
“Good morning, church boy,” he winks at Taehyung, and he drops himself on the stool by his side, snatching a glass with eagerness. “You even made my favorite, you’re the best Jimin!” He takes a gulp of the drink.
“Here, Taehyung.” Jimin offers him the thick, green smoothie.
Taehyung looks between the two of them, then at the glass. Hesitantly, he brings the drink close to his nose and sniffs. The smell is bad enough, but Taehyung makes the mistake of actually tasting it, and dear God—
He chokes on the smoothie, grimacing instantly. Taehyung rushes to the sink to get a glass of water while the others laugh at him. The sandy texture on his tongue refuses to leave, no matter how much he chugs water down, the taste that weirdly reminds him of grass and cardboard paper attached to his taste buds for dear life.
“Oh my God, what is this?”
“Whoa, can you say God’s name in vain like that?” Jungkook teases, clearly amused by his suffering.
“It’s not in vain. I was almost poisoned. I should thank Him for giving me a second chance,” Taehyung snaps, and Jimin laughs even harder, bending over the counter.
“What a drama queen!” He smacks his empty glass on the Formica surface. “It’s just pea protein and kale shake.”
“How do you drink that?” Taehyung widens his eyes. “It’s disgusting!”
“It’s about the pump, Taehyung, not the taste,” Jungkook replies, flexing his biceps proudly. He gets the glass full of green slob and chugs it all in one go.
Taehyung stares at him in horror.
And something else.
The line of Jungkook’s jaw is sharper as he tilts his head to drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in hypnotizing motion. His wet hair catches on his nape, bringing droplets of water to his bare shoulders, running over his moon tattoo. It’s just then that Taehyung notices his chest is slightly flushed, either from the morning run or the hot shower.
His stomach tightens, and he blames Jimin’s attempt to poison him for all the weirdness that crawls inside him all at once.
“Taehyung?” Jimin says loudly.
Taehyung blinks away, focusing on Jimin again. “What?”
“I asked how your first week was.”
He gulps, side glancing at Jungkook quickly just to catch him wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His knuckles are red, a few blisters visible on the palm. Why does it feel so hot in this dorm? Is the heater on already? “It— It was nice.” He catches his bag on the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “I need to go to class.”
“Already? You didn’t even finish your shake.” Jimin pouts, making Jungkook laugh.
“I believe that’s for the best,” Taehyung says awkwardly.
“Hey,” Jungkook calls him when Taehyung is almost at the door. He stops, turns on his heels, feels queasy at the way Jungkook stares at him, tongue poking on his cheek, like he’s trying to assess Taehyung. “We’re going out for drinks tonight, wanna join?”
He stutters, eyes widening. “Uh, I can’t. I have a club meeting.”
“Oh, you joined a club?” Jimin asks, leaning on the counter and propping his chin on his hand. “Which one?”
Licking his lips, Taehyung glances around the room. “The UFC.”
Jimin’s eyes go comically wide. “Like the MMA fighting championship?”
Jungkook, who always looks so smug like he knows Taehyung all over, seems lost for the first time. “You don’t look like you can put up a fight, church boy.”
“Maybe the featherweight category?” Jimin squints at him. “I’m sure there are some muscles underneath these nerdy t-shirts.” Then he squares his shoulders and gestures towards him. “Take it off, Taehyung, let us see those abs.”
“What?” Taehyung folds his forearm over his stomach. “No!”
“Just kidding, dude,” Jimin laughs, winking at Jungkook.
Taehyung huffs in annoyance, gritting his jaw.
“For real now,” Jungkook says, leaning sideways on the island and crossing his arms over his very exposed chest. “What’s the UFC?”
“It’s the University for Christians club,” Taehyung replies, lifting his chin. He watches Jungkook’s reaction, but his impenetrable eyes remain the same: amused, mockingly sharp.
“Ah,” Jimin taps his chin with his fingers. “That makes more sense— I didn’t know we had one of those.”
“We do,” Taehyung nods. “God's been really speaking to my heart about this lately, how I should keep in touch with my faith here.” He says, and the other two just stare at him. “Well, I'll see you two another time, have fun.” He says and turns right away.
“You too, I guess,” he hears Jungkook saying when he closes the door behind him.
Taehyung stands close to the snacks table. He looks at his options: raw broccoli and carrots for salsa and yogurt dip, cherry tomatoes, grapes, crackers and a variety of cheap cheese. He gets a cracker and a chunk of an unknown cheese.
When he’s about to bite, a girl approaches.
“Hi, Taehyung, right?” She asks, full lips stretched into a smile. Her curly dark hair falls around her face like a halo. When he looks at her, Taehyung thinks of angels and lilies.
“Oh, hi.” He drops the cracker back on the tray right away, wiping his palms on his pants and offers her a hand. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Hanna.” She smiles even bigger, accepting her handshake. Her skin is soft and warm, dry in a way Taehyung’s will never be. “Welcome! It’s always good to have new brothers and sisters joining the club. How was your first week?”
The question is the same Jimin made earlier, but this time, he doesn’t have to lie. He chuckles. “Overwhelming, to say the least.”
Hanna laughs, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I get it. It’s a new world, right?”
Taehyung nods. “Very different from the congregation— I was doing missionary work before coming here.”
Hanna smiles brightly and kindly. “Ah, the difference. Nobody will be singing any gospels as they study, I’m afraid.”
Taehyung laughs. “I suppose not.”
“You will get used to it, trust me. My first week here, I tried to attend so many welcome events, I think I developed a burnout on day three.”
“How did you cope?”
“I didn’t.” She winks. “You just get used to missing some stuff out. And if you’re not into drinking and partying, things get easier to manage.”
“Who said I’m not?” Taehyung arches a brow, trying to be nonchalant.
“Come on, Taehyung, you’re at a church meeting on a Friday night,” and then she points at his neck, “and you even brought your rosary. I assume that’s not a fashion statement.”
Taehyung laughs, cheeks flushed. “You caught me.” He rubs his neck awkwardly. “I’ve never been in a place like this, where people are so… different from myself. I thought coming here tonight would be good, to meet brothers and sisters.”
Hanna studies him for a moment, lips pressed in a gentle smile. “It’s good that you came, but that’s the gift of university, isn’t it? To experience new things, meet new people. God wants us to see it all.”
“It all?” Taehyung lifts an eyebrow.
She shrugs, stepping past him to get a grape from the table. “I mean, as long as you’re not putting yourself or others in danger.” She tilts his head to the side, deliberating. “I mean, a lot of ministers will say college can be a test to our faith…”
“Mine often says this is the place where mistakes are made.” He shifts on his feet.
Hanna laughs at that and pops the grape in her mouth. She chews the fruit, licks her lips, and Taehyung thinks of how nice she looks. Her smile, her skin soft and dark and beautiful as her eyes. She’s definitely the kind of girl his mother would love for him to bring home.
Except he looks at Hanna, and all he can think of is how good a friend she must be.
Inside him, there’s only stillness.
“We’re all gonna make mistakes,” she says after a moment. “Here or elsewhere. Have you been part of a congregation since you were born?”
Taehyung nods.
“We, church kids, we—” She sighs, looking ahead at the other few members in the room. “We were raised in a bubble. It’s hard to get out of it, but it’s important, too. And about temptations… Well,” she chuckles, “it’s not like God will forbid you from heaven because you got drunk in college, right?”
Taehyung’s eyes round. Getting drunk is not really what he’s concerned about, but he lets her think it is. He snickers. “Yeah, it makes sense.”
“Hm, your phone’s been buzzing nonstop.” Hanna points at his jeans. “Might be something important.”
“Sorry, just a moment.” Taehyung fishes the phone from his pocket, frowning at the notifications on the screen that he hadn’t noticed.
[You were added to the group BTS & Taehyung]
Jimin: Welcome Taehyung!
Hoseok: YAY!
Jungkook: sup!!
hey isn’t he also a top if he’s straight?
Seokjin: kook has a ponit and welcome taheyung!
Jimin: Straight people also have other preferences
Yoongi: including not wanting to top or bottom ;)
Seokjin: okay yoonig we get it your’e a side
Yoongi: The one and only! (unless Taehyung wants to join the team
Taehyung: i’m good, thanks
Yoongi: boring
Hoseok: Can’t you even write our names correctly, Jin?
Seokjin: on
Hoseok: *rolling eyes emoji*
Namjoon: focus, gays!
and guy, sry taehyung
Hoseok: We have the Welcoming Games on Sunday, wanna come see us play, Tae?
Seokjin: Doehe haev a cjoihce?
Jungkook: wtf did u just type
Hoseok: smashing balls and keyboods i see
Namjoon: he asked if taehyung has a choice, and yes, he has
Jimin: In theory
Taehyung: Welcoming games?
Jimin: Yeah, just a few matches to show new students the varsity teams
Hoseok: Nothing serious, should be all fun and games
Taehyung: yeah, I guess I can come
Hoseok: Perfect! See you at 4pm.
Taehyung looks up from his phone. “Sorry, it’s just the guys from my dorm.” He shakes his phone in the air.
“Oh, nice! Where are you living?”
“Smith’s Hall.”
“No way.” Hanna’s eyes grow in size, interest peaking. “So, you’re part of a varsity team?”
“Oh, no!” Taehyung rushes to wave his hands in front of him, still looking at his phone. “They just put me there with the volley team, I don’t really know why.”
“You’re kidding!” She gapes. “You’re housing with BTS?”
“Yes, but please don’t ask me what that stands for, it’s very confusing,” he blurts out.
Hanna laughs, throwing their head back. “I see you’re acquainted with their antics already.”
“Do you know them?” Taehyung frowns.
“Not personally, no,” she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But everyone knows them.” Enthusiasm crosses her voice, and Taehyung is taken aback by the sudden excitement. “They’re basically Bay Town’s stars!”
“Oh.” Taehyung blinks blankly at her.
“You’re so lucky! They must be so cool in person.” She claps her hands and smiles even larger.
Lucky isn’t the word he would, for many, many reasons. Her excitement confuses him. People from his church wouldn’t react the same way if they knew the BTS players, yet Hanna is here, all bright eyes and admiration.
“Yeah, hm, do you wanna come with me to watch them at the Welcoming Games on Sunday?” Taehyung asks suddenly. If Hanna is there with him, then maybe he’ll feel more comfortable.
“Oh, sure!” She bounces on her feet, voice getting higher in excitement. “I’ve seen a few games last year and…”
His phone buzzes in his hand again, and Taehyung’s mind trails off as she continues gushing about his roommates. His jaw tightens when he reads the message on his phone.
[Jungkook changed the group name to “BTS & Church Boy”]
The sneakers squawk on the court.
The movements are so fast, Taehyung gets slightly confused trying to follow them.
“Whoa, I knew they were good, but like…” Hanna trails off, leaning forward in excitement. “This is not even a real match!”
Taehyung simply nods, slightly hypnotized. This good is an understatement.
Namjoon becomes a wall with his arms stretched up to block a shot. His wrapped fingers bend against each ball he defends, but as though they’re elastic, they don’t break. It must hurt like hell, but Namjoon doesn’t wince once, face fully focused on the opponents, a scream coming out every time his blocks score the team a point.
Seokjin plays with such grace in his quick reflexes, Taehyung never knew was possible for someone who literally smacks a ball against other people. When he’s not touching the ball, his hands are always on his lower back, fingers indicating numbers to his teammates.
Hoseok shares the same position as Seokjin, but whereas the tallest looks gracious on court, Hoseok seems like he’s made of pure fire. He doesn’t stop for a single second, hyping up his teammates and looking at his opponents with daggers in his eyes. The friendly, smiley face Taehyung knows is completely gone. Every time he jumps for an attack, it’s like he’s flying out of pure spite.
Like he’s capable of reading the other player’s mind, Jimin sets the perfect balls for Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook. Every time it looks like his move is obvious, he shifts mid-air, tossing the ball to a different hitter, confusing the opponents. If a volleyball match were an orchestra, Jimin would be the maestro. He makes the game flow like a complicated, but perfect song.
In the back of the court, Yoongi throws himself on the floor, diving on the floor for the perfect reception without even blinking. He’s always ready, always on guard, jaw tight, eyes always split between the ball and the hitters, and every time he passes a ball to someone, it’s like he knows exactly his teammate's next move.
And then there’s Jungkook. Jungkook is not only good, he’s a powerhouse that clearly stands out on court. He’s fierce at the same time he’s playful. His attacks are ruthless, hands made of fire. Whenever he jumps, his body angles like a perfect bow. The strength of his spikes can be noticed by how hard they are to block. At one particular moment, the other team argue over a fault, screaming He’s fishing! After the situation is solved, Jungkook makes sure to hit the ball so hard, he marks the point and screams, Talk to my hand!
But it’s not his strength that earns them the most points. It seems like Jungkook’s specialty is to score by touching the ball with his fingertips, delivering it gently and tricking the opponents.
Although there are six players on the team, Taehyung has a hard time darting his eyes off him even when he’s not touching the ball. His talents on court would be enough for that, but there's more. A lot more. It’s clear he likes to put on a show, which equally annoys and entrances Taehyung. As he plays, Jungkook purposely pulls his shorts up and reveals the muscles of his thighs. Constantly, he fixes his ponytail, flexing his arms for everyone to see. Even worse is how he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, showing his abdomen for longer than necessary. And he is touchy, so touchy. Beyond the usual celebratory hug or pat, Jungkook slap his teammates in the butt all the time, lifts Jimin and Yoongi off the floor as if they’re weightless, and jumps on Namjoon’s back, wrapping his legs around his waist.
“We’re smashing it!” He hears him saying that whenever they celebrate.
Taehyung notices every bit of him, and apparently, he’s not the only one. The other students on the bleachers squeal and cheer way harder when it’s Jungkook the one scoring a point for the team. They also whistle and yell whenever they can see hidden parts of his skin.
The group by his side, four boys that are lanky despite the athletic clothes they’re wearing, squeal like high schoolers, Jungkook is so hot! Taehyung rolls his eyes. In front of him, a buff guy whispers to what looks like his gym buddy, I can’t believe you scored that guy!
Taehyung’s stomach tightens. He grits his jaw and tries to focus on the game, failing to celebrate when Jungkook scores another point after Jimin backsets the ball to him, and the scoreboard shows BTS won the second set.
In the middle of the court, the guys laugh and jump in a group hug. When they part, Jungkook looks at the bleachers, and his eyes go straight to Taehyung. Biting his tongue as he smiles, he winks directly at him.
Taehyung gapes, body going rigid and throat tightening.
“Tae?” Hanna asks, already up to leave the gymnasium.
He rips his eyes away from Jungkook. The air gets too thin for him to breathe, and he pulls the collar of his shirt. “Uh?”
“Let’s go— Hey, are you okay? You look a little…” She doesn't finish, but gestures a hand over his face.
Flushed, Taehyung clears his throat, hand sliding to the rosary under his shirt. “Yeah, it's just hot in here.”
The court is empty this time, except for the player practicing serves. Every hit of his hand against the ball echoes like thunder in the gymnasium. Taehyung walks in with deliberate steps, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Even though he keeps himself on the sidelines, the player lowers the ball, resting it against his hip, and turns with eyes sharp and full of intention, like he was just expecting him to show up.
Their gazes meet, a thrill crosses Taehyung's spine. He swallows dryly.
The player wears only athletic shorts, loose and tiny. His torso is wet with sweat, flushed from the exertion. His chest rises and falls, mouth parted to catch his breath again. The usual ponytail is gone, hair falling over his hooded eyes, but not hiding the intensity of them.
A quick flick of his tongue over his parted, red lips. Taehyung's heart thrums in his chest.
In front of him is a vision of pure temptation.
He knows the devil has many faces, but never before did he think he would carry the features of someone he knows.
Taehyung brings his hands to his rosary, but his chest is empty.
From the middle of the court, Jungkook smirks widely at him.
He throws the ball to the side; it kicks on the floor loudly a few times and then rolls to the opposite end of the court. The noise doesn't rattle Taehyung. There’s a tug in Jungkook’s gaze that freezes him on the spot, making it impossible for him to close his eyes.
“I believe in God the Father Almighty…”
“Shhhh,” Jungkook shushes him as he walks closer. He stops right in front of Taehyung, looks him down and then up again, and shakes his head with that wicked smile still on his lips. “He can’t listen to you here.”
A violent tremble hits Taehyung’s core. He should be afraid, but the sensation inside him is not exactly fear.
“God wouldn’t want me to be here,” he murmurs under his breath.
Jungkook clicks his tongue, then singsongs, “But we’re here just to play.” He takes another step closer. His body heat travels through the short distance, irradiating from his skin like he’s made out of flames. “We can have so much fun together,” Jungkook says, voice dragged and low in a way Taehyung has never heard before, but that brings chills to his spine. He closes the space between them fully, his hot breath touches Taehyung’s lips, and he sucks in a breath.
The devil sings in different languages, all of his songs enticing, purposefully composed to trap the weak into his claws. The words coming from Jungkook’s lips are alluring, impossible to resist.
“I—”
He desperately wants to say no, but the word vanishes from his mind. Taehyung is so, so weak.
All he sees is Jungkook so close, eyes so cutting and so full of something he can’t recognize, but that pulls him closer like a magnetic field.
“Come on.” Jungkook flicks a hand under his chin.
Taehyung sucks a breath in, the contact against his skin made of pure electricity.
The perpetuous smirk on Jungkook’s face only grows when he notices the way Taehyung shudders at his touch.
“Oh, you like this?” He asks, eyes dropping to Taehyung’s mouth. “You like it when I touch you.” It’s not a question, as though Jungkook knows exactly how Taehyung feels, can see the tightness in his lower belly even through his shirt. Pleased, Jungkook traces his lower lip with his thumb, lips curving up to one side when he notices the way Taehyung gulps. The thumb then slides down to Adam's apple, applying a pressure that is slightly suffocating but thrilling. “Would you like to play with me, Taehyung?”
Taehyung feels his entire body buzzing, his mouth opening into a gasp.
Unintentionally, he nods.
In the back of his mind, there is a prayer somewhere. It gets lost in the middle of all the lust that floods his body like a tidal wave. It’s a new feeling, it’s all-consuming, something he has never experienced before.
The crave starts from the pit of his stomach, irradiating to his limbs, eating him from the edges.
If giving in to temptation leads to hell, then Taehyung feels ready for eternal damnation.
Jungkook’s gaze drops to his chest as his hand keeps going down, and Taehyung realizes by the warmth of his palm that he is also shirtless. Without the gravity of Jungkook’s eyes sucking him in, he can look down at his own chest, to the callused hand trailing down and down.
His knuckles graze over Taehyung’s sternum, breaking the skin into goosebumps. Jungkook hums, so pleased it sounds like a moan.
“But let me tell you,” he whispers close to his lips. Taehyung lifts his gaze back up, sucking in a breath at the impossible proximity. Noticing he’s not focused on his touches anymore, Jungkook grazes his thumb over his nipple.
Taehyung gasps.
Jungkook’s eyes darken. Greedy, hungry, sinful. Getting lost in them is not only easy; it’s inevitable.
The hand that was on his nipple goes down, hovers over Taehyung’s navel in an overwhelming touch, but so, so light, a whine escapes his throat before he can prevent it.
Between his legs, Taehyung feels it throbbing.
“I don’t play fair, church boy,” Jungkook whispers as he touches Taehyung where he needs the most.
The moan that escapes his mouth echoes in the room.
Taehyung wakes up and jolts into a seat, alarmed at the noise. It takes him two full seconds to notice it came from his own mouth. He claps a hand over his lips in full panic.
He tries to breathe through the tightness of his throat. His whole body trembles, sweat makes his skin sticky, but it’s the ache coming from his navel that unsettles him. He looks down at his groin, completely appalled as he notices his cock, hard and throbbing between his legs.
Immediately, his hand flies to his neck. Right in between his collarbones, his rosary burns against his hand. As redeeming as constraining.