Chapter Text
It was dangerous to wake up Min Yoongi. His friends knew this. His family knew this. Probably the entire inhabited universe knew that you did not wake up Min Yoongi. Not unless you had a death wish. So, it seemed to Yoongi that someone had a death wish tonight. He was jolted out of his extremely comfortable bed by someone banging on his door. He checked his clock as he rolled out of the sheets, forgoing putting on a shirt. 2:33 am. Two. Thirty. Three. In the goddamn morning.
Someone had better be on fire.
Or else, Yoongi was going to fucking kill someone.
The future corpse at the door banged again and Yoongi nearly wrenched the door off the hinges opening it. He glared furiously out at the person without really seeing them, grumbling, “You’d better have a damn good reason for…” The threat died on his tongue as he looked up at the person who had dared to wake him. That smirk. That evil, sexy smirk that left Yoongi’s knees feeling weak.
Kim. Motherfucking. Taehyung.
He smelled like alcohol and was leaning against Yoongi’s doorjamb with this hazy, unnerving look in his eyes. Yoongi’s fury dissipated and was replaced by something akin to irritation. Arousal curled in his stomach as he recognized that look but Yoongi ignored it. He crossed his arms, fixed a not at all convincing grimace on his face and snapped, “What do you want, Tae? Do you know what goddamn time it is?”
Taehyung smirked again. Yoongi swallowed, façade crumbling.
You do not wake up Min Yoongi unless you had a death wish…or unless your name was Kim Motherfucking Taehyung.
“I missed my favorite little asshole.” Taehyung’s voice was deep and warm, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.
“That means two things.” Yoongi said automatically.
Taehyung straightened and stepped into the elder’s house easily, closing the door behind him. “And I meant both.” He murmured, pulling him into a searing kiss that tasted like soju and cinnamon. Yoongi allowed the taller man to lift him from his feet, wrapping his legs about Taehyung’s waist, a soft sound at the back of his throat. Taehyung’s hands were big, his arms strong, his lips full and insistent against Yoongi’s own. Taehyung bent over and Yoongi was suddenly back in his bed with Taehyung above him. He hadn’t realized he’d been carried through his apartment.
Yoongi blinked then frowned at him in the darkness. “You can’t just come here every time you’re horny or can't sleep, Tae.” His voice was meant to come out firmly, with resolve. Instead, he just sounded somewhat petulant.
Taehyung leaned over Yoongi, his shirt hanging loose over his thin frame, his beautiful face clear of that evil ass smirk for the first time since he’d gotten there. “Do you want me to leave, hyung?” He muttered, his voice low and deep.
Yoongi felt heat shoot up his spine and come to rest in the pits of his stomach. He reached his pale hands up and wrapped them about the younger’s neck, unconsciously caressing the smooth skin there. “No,” he whispered. Taehyung’s deep brown eyes seemed to melt in the moonlight and shone with something that felt like love. Yoongi foolishly wished that it was love. He pulled Taehyung’s full lips onto his own. They slotted together perfectly and something surged up in Yoongi’s chest, something that felt desperate and warm, exceedingly warm. The words were imprinted on his lips, ready to be spoken, needing to be spoken.
But…
Yoongi remembered the last time he’d drunkenly said those three little words to Taehyung. He hadn’t seen him for over a month. Yoongi wouldn’t let that happen again. Taehyung’s tongue ran across his bottom lip and Yoongi opened for him, feeling completely helpless.
Yoongi really was weak. One glare from him was enough to send most people scurrying in the opposite direction. One curse enough to have most people backtracking. He couldn’t stand too much human interaction anyway; it was exhausting. But, he just couldn’t help himself with Taehyung. He glared at Taehyung for taking too long to pull off his shirt, exposing deep golden skin and soft musculature. Taehyung looked immensely unimpressed, giving him that goddamn smirk again and burrowing into Yoongi’s neck, leaving marks with his teeth and his tongue. Yoongi cursed – “Fuck, Tae” – and Taehyung only smiled and marked the other side of his neck. Yoongi felt Taehyung’s large hands run across his exposed pale skin which was now flushed pink due to Taehyung’s presence.
Taehyung’s long fingers made their way to Yoongi’s hips which were covered in loose pajama bottoms. Yoongi held his breath and looked up at the younger, who seemed to be waiting to be watched, his expression deceptively innocent. Fuck. Yoongi knew he was in trouble when Taehyung pulled that puppy dog shit. He was right. Taehyung rolled his hips down onto Yoongi’s, causing friction against his hardening length and Yoongi felt heat flood his face as he swore. “Shit, Tae, stop fucking teasing me.” He snapped, voice desperate and breaking.
Taehyung was not good at following instructions. He ground against Yoongi again. Yoongi silently cursed whomever had invented sweatpants. He was ready to rip them off himself before Taehyung’s long fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and briefs, yanking both down in one swift motion. The friction of the removal left Yoongi trembling. Taehyung chuckled low and soft in Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi felt his dick throb. Why the hell wasn’t Taehyung touching him?
“Tae…please…” Yoongi nearly begged.
Taehyung was clearly having none of it. He captured Yoongi’s lips again. Yoongi moved his hands between them and managed to pop the button on Taehyung's jeans before the younger’s hands pinned his wrists above his head. “Be patient, baby.” He whispered. Yoongi melted into submission with a broken whimper and allowed Taehyung’s lips to move from his own to his neck to his chest, sucking one of the sensitive buds there and causing Yoongi’s toes to curl. “Don’t move your hands.” Taehyung said quietly.
Fire trailed over Yoongi’s skin, following Taehyung’s lips. His lips were moving lower, to his ribs, his stomach, to the small path of dark hair below his navel. Yoongi’s eyes slid shut as he felt the heat of Taehyung’s mouth over his length. Again, Yoongi opened his eyes to look at the man. Again, it seemed as though Taehyung was waiting to be watched; he was looking Yoongi directly in the eye as he lowered his mouth completely over Yoongi’s leaking length.
Yoongi threw his head back, his moans incoherent mixtures of expletives and the man’s name. That feeling, that warm, desperate, heart-wrenching feeling came into Yoongi’s chest again as Taehyung bobbed up and down over Yoongi’s cock, his cheeks hollowed and his mouth warm. Yoongi looked down at him, feeling electricity shoot through every nerve ending in his body when Taehyung slicked his tongue up and around him. He was beautiful. Yoongi felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. Taehyung was fucking beautiful.
The pressure was tightening in Yoongi’s stomach; he was close. He panted and wanted to reach for Taehyung but Taehyung had told him not to; he whimpered in protest. Just as he felt he was going to explode, Taehyung moved his mouth back up to Yoongi’s, grinning a gentle, boxy smile at Yoongi’s obvious desperation.
“Off,” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung raised an eyebrow in mild interest. “Your pants, take them off.” Yoongi clarified, feeling like a complete idiot. Taehyung’s gentle smile widened into another predatory smirk.
“On your knees, ass up.” He ordered in turn. Yoongi did as commanded with only minimal grumbling; he liked to see Taehyung but tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights, it seemed. Taehyung wasn’t sober, no. But, he also wasn’t drunk enough to be completely honest. Yoongi lamented this fact before he heard Taehyung’s belt loosen, heard his pants hitting the floor, felt his tongue at Yoongi’s hole. Yoongi closed his eyes and moaned into his pillows.
This was fine, Yoongi told himself as he felt himself being opened with a lube-slicked finger. Taehyung didn’t have to be honest. He didn’t have to tell Yoongi how he really felt about him. He didn’t have to love Yoongi. Taehyung’s long finger reached his prostate with embarrassing ease; he knew Yoongi’s body far too well. He mewled beneath Taehyung’s hands, his thighs shaking, his dick leaking untouched onto his sheets.
Another finger. Yoongi gasped through the slight burn of the stretch, feeling himself panting heavily and thanking his lucky stars that he lived alone. This would have been extremely embarrassing otherwise. Taehyung began to pump into him once he’d sensed that the stretch was nothing more than pleasurable. Yoongi whined as Taehyung’s other hand came to rest on the back of his thighs, his nails scratching gently along the tender, heated skin there. Yoongi fisted his hands into the sheets when a third finger entered, curling within him, and resting there while he acclimated himself to the sensation.
Those long fingers began to move within him again. Taehyung’s nails stroked down the inside of his thighs again. He could hear Taehyung’s breathing getting heavier. His prostate was being abused and Yoongi could feel his skin getting hotter, his orgasm coming ever closer.
Taehyung suddenly removed his fingers and murmured, “On your back,” knowing that Yoongi would comply. Yoongi nearly sobbed – he’d been so fucking close; why was Taehyung torturing him like this? He heard a condom being opened and his nightstand’s drawer shut; that’s where he kept his supplies. Taehyung had been fucking Yoongi long enough to know that. Yoongi’s legs spread wide, all but begging for Taehyung to slide between them, to slide into him.
Taehyung’s face was colored a dusky rose; he wasn’t as unaffected by Yoongi as he liked to pretend, it seemed. He lined himself up with Yoongi and slowly entered. Yoongi threw his head back against the pillows, cursing as, little by little, Taehyung sheathed himself within Yoongi’s warmth. Taehyung groaned. Yoongi felt the sound travel straight to his dick, setting his whole body aflame. Nothing was sexier to him than Taehyung moaning. Nothing.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Taehyung murmured. “You look so fucking beautiful.” Yoongi was surprised. Taehyung normally had to be much drunker to dole out compliments like that. Taehyung’s eyes melted, showing that thing that Yoongi refused to believe was love again – that’s what had gotten him abandoned last time, mistaking Taehyung's lies for love. He captured Yoongi’s lips in his own, swallowing his moans as he began to thrust into Yoongi. Yoongi’s fingers dug into Taehyung’s shoulders when Taehyung moved from his lips back to his throat, kissing the pulse he found there.
Yoongi hadn’t expected the younger to actually want to face him tonight. He hadn’t expected intimacy. If there was one thing Kim Taehyung hated, it was intimacy. Yoongi’s mind became a staticky haze of white noise as he felt his body alight once more with the need to come. He dug his fingers into Taehyung’s hips almost savagely and Taehyung hissed, biting his neck just as savagely. Yoongi cried out, tightening his hold on his lover, moaning his name between whimpers. Taehyung’s movements became jerkier and faster. He groaned out Yoongi’s name and Yoongi felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He came in thick, ivory ropes, spurting out onto his and Taehyung’s stomachs. And still, Taehyung pumped within him, his own orgasm rapidly overtaking him. He crashed his lips down onto Yoongi’s with a gasp, cupping Yoongi’s face with a large, warm hand.
Yoongi shuddered and inhaled Taehyung’s orgasm from his lips. The younger pulled away and buried his face in the crook of Yoongi's neck, waiting for his heart to slow.
Regret washed over Yoongi like a wave, firmly overshadowing his afterglow. His fingers were buried in the soft brown hair of Kim Motherfucking Taehyung and he just knew that this wouldn’t last much longer. Tonight wasn't one of those nights. Taehyung would get up. He would leave with a smirk, a kiss, and/or a pat on the ass, maybe even a ‘thanks, hyung’. He would walk out of Yoongi’s apartment, never once thinking about the fact that he’d just made love – not fucked, made goddamn love – to a man who was hopelessly in love with him. A man he knew he wouldn’t love in turn.
Taehyung eventually sat up on his elbows and looked down at Yoongi. Yoongi swallowed, rapidly schooling his features into a mask of indifference. Taehyung gave him an angelic smile that made Yoongi swoon internally. He didn’t show it on his face though, only released the younger from his hold and tried not to wince when Taehyung pulled out and left his bed. The man padded into Yoongi’s bathroom, cleaning himself off before coming to Yoongi and handing him a clean, damp towel. Yoongi sat up gingerly and toweled himself off while Taehyung redressed in only a minute's time. Neither of them spoke, but it seemed as though Taehyung was entirely unaffected by the silence. Yoongi pulled on his pajama bottoms again and sat back in his bed carefully.
Taehyung pulled his phone from his pocket, answering messages, and rolling his eyes at something. “Hey, hyung, did you finish that track? Jin-hyung is up my ass about it and I’m sick of listening to him bitch.” He didn’t even look at Yoongi as he asked this and Yoongi felt smaller than he had before. Pure tenacity stopped this showing on his face though.
“Um…yeah. I finished it a couple hours ago, which is why I was so pissed that you woke me up. Asshole.” This last word was said a bit more emphatically than the situation really called for but Yoongi felt like it applied in too many ways to care just then.
Taehyung didn’t seem to care either. He gave Yoongi a smile before shoving his phone in his back pocket and leaning down over Yoongi.
Yoongi cursed his pale skin because it made his flush far too obvious. Taehyung’s eyes showed that odd thing Yoongi refused to acknowledge again, that same surge of emotion. Yoongi fiercely reminded himself that the younger had been drinking. “You’re so pretty.” Taehyung breathed, then kissed him a little too sweetly and stood to leave. “Send me that track tomorrow so I can show Jin-hyung, okay?” He called as he left the apartment. Yoongi didn’t get a chance to answer before the door to his apartment closed with a final click.
Yoongi closed his eyes, scrubbing his face with his hands. He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a box of cigarettes. He didn’t smoke often, only when he was extremely stressed or drinking. He just seemed to be a lot of both these days. Having sex with Kim Taehyung had been a mistake. It was always a fucking mistake. Because Taehyung liked to fuck Yoongi like Yoongi was the love of his life. Then he would get up and leave like Yoongi was nothing more than a bar hookup. Unless he couldn't sleep - which was always worse.
He took a long drag from the cig, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Fuck you, Tae.” He said to no one. Why the hell was he in love with the world’s biggest asshole anyway? Why couldn’t he fall for someone who actually gave a shit about him? That little bastard had Yoongi completely dick-whipped and he knew it. Yoongi took another drag and exhaled. He shouldn’t have opened that goddamn door. He should have just rolled over and let Taehyung suffer. He wouldn’t be so irritated right now. He wouldn’t feel so restless. He wouldn’t feel so used.
He wouldn’t be so lonely.
***
“Kookie, you promised!” Jimin whined. Jungkook was currently trying very hard not to strangle the elder.
“Hyung, move, if I get killed because your ass is in the tv, I won’t help you practice.” Jungkook griped, twisting to see the tv screen past Jimin’s orange hair and protuberant ass, smashing at the controller in his hand and successfully killing an opponent.
“Jungkookie, you promised you would come so get off your ass. We need to leave in a few minutes and you still haven’t gotten dressed.” Jimin said in utter exasperation.
Jungkook abandoned the game. “Hyung, I didn’t want to go to begin with.” He reminded Jimin calmly.
“No, but you promised. And Overwatch isn’t going anywhere. We, however, are. So, get off your ass.” Jimin repeated, rolling his eyes.
Jungkook groaned and bitched but he got off his ass and put on something that didn’t make him look like a couch potato, exchanging his sweats for tight jeans and his hoodie for a black sweater. “Is there going to be alcohol?” He called as he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
“Maybe,” Jimin called back, playing at being coy. Jungkook could hear the grin in the elder’s voice and rolled his eyes with a smirk, rinsing his mouth.
“Alright, this is as good as it gets. Let’s go.” Jungkook said, heading to the front door, and pulling on his boots.
“’As good as it gets’ looks good on you, Kookie.” Jimin said with an appreciative glance.
Jungkook chose not to respond to that and left the apartment, Jimin locking the door behind them. They walked to the small club in amicable chatter about everything and nothing in particular. Jungkook didn’t do well with crowds. He didn’t do well with people, period. He’d only agreed to come with Jimin because he knew that the older man would pester him until he got sick of rejection– like he had every weekend before this. Jungkook just hadn’t had it in him to fight this weekend. He hated when Jimin got pouty.
Jungkook had made next to no friends since he’d started college. He hadn’t really put any effort into doing so. He preferred to focus on his studies, to focus on dance. And when he got back from work, he didn’t have the energy to socialize with everyone. Not like Jimin seemed to. Jimin was the only thing close to a friend that Jungkook had and he was more than enough, as far as Jungkook was concerned. He was shorter than Jungkook, but made up for that through pure energy. He danced like a monster. He had a lot of friends. He had a lot of lovers. He had a lot of love to give to everyone around him and Jungkook was grateful to bask in the rays of the eternal sunshine that was Jimin. He didn’t need anyone else. Jimin was enough friend for a lifetime.
They reached the venue without freezing too much in the brisk fall air. Jungkook’s hands were balled into fists in his pockets as they entered. Jimin seemed to know the bouncer so Jungkook wasn’t carded. It didn’t hurt that he looked older than he was either due to his height. The place was dark. There was thumping music that felt far more sensual than Jungkook would have thought. Jimin grabbed onto his wrist to lead him deeper into the place.
They were heading for a relatively open area. There were tables about the perimeter of a packed dancefloor. People were grinding and undulating to the thumping music, the bass line deep enough that Jungkook felt it in his bones. There was a stage at the very back where people seemed to be moving around in silhouette. A DJ booth was slightly to the left of the stage and a man was currently jumping with the crowd. He could tell that Jimin was itching to get to the dancefloor. Jungkook saw a bar a bit further ahead to his right and took charge, leading them to it.
There were far too many people in this place; there was no way he was going to make it through the night sober. He needed something that burned to loosen the coil of anxiety in his gut. Jimin allowed himself to be led, scanning the dancefloor.
“What’ll it be, kid?” the bartender asked after handling a few orders.
Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off when Jimin shrieked, “Hyung!” in his ear and pulled Jungkook down to another part of the bar.
A taller, black haired man turned around and his full lips cracked into a breathtaking smile. Jungkook smiled in recognition, greeting the man. “Hoseok-hyung, I didn’t know you’d be out tonight too. What brings you here?” Jimin asked, sidling up to Hoseok’s side in a way that was a bit too friendly for someone who was completely sober.
“I’m here for moral support.” Hoseok responded dryly with another smile.
This seemed to puzzle Jimin but he didn’t pry. “Do you have a table? We should get some drinks,” Jimin suggested. This sounded good to Jungkook. Hoseok seemed to agree. He directed Jimin and Jungkook to a circular table in a corner. The dancefloor was still visible but it felt more private and quiet here. Jimin made sure to slide in beside their hyung and Jungkook didn’t object. A waitress came by their table to take their orders. Hoseok ordered a round of shots and a cocktail, Jimin ordered the same cocktail (Sex on the Beach), and Jungkook ordered a Screwdriver. “Oh,” Hoseok said to the waitress just before she left. “Can we have a double shot of whiskey too? My friend is coming back soon.”
The waitress didn’t look as though she believed there was a friend but she nodded anyway and left them alone. “Your friend, hyung?” Jimin asked cautiously. Jungkook could see nerves twist his plump lips. He also didn’t miss that Hoseok’s eyes flicked to those lips.
“Yeah, I told you, I’m here for moral support. A friend is going through some bullshit and he needed a drinking buddy. I’m here to drink and be a buddy.” Hoseok explained. Jimin made a noise of understanding and shoved his small hands through his orange hair, a nervous habit. “Oh, about practice tomorrow,” Hoseok started and the two delved into a conversation about choreography that Jungkook knew he should be listening to but he just didn’t care much right then. He only wanted to get his drink and order another. He hadn’t been drunk in a while; now seemed like a good time to give it a go.
The waitress came back with their shots at the same time that a mint green haired man slid into the booth on Hoseok’s other side, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne. Jungkook was immediately entranced by the man. He seemed to be about as tall as Jimin – he didn’t know, he hadn’t been paying attention – and had black eyes that didn’t seem to miss much of anything. As beautiful as the man was, there was something about him that intimidated the living hell out of Jungkook. He was short and thin, he looked soft and warm, but he seemed like someone who took no shit. Jungkook immediately liked him. “Sorry, I lost my shit when I found out who was performing tonight. Speak of the fucking devil, right?” The man said, looking back at the stage. His voice was deep and had a lazy drawl that Jungkook liked. He realized that he’d been staring unabashedly at the man since he’d sat down at the table and immediately turned his attention to his drink, which he stole a large gulp of.
“Yeah, what are the odds, y’know?” Hoseok agreed, somewhat sadly. “We can go if you want?”
The green haired man considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “Not just yet. I’ll let you know.” He pulled a cigarette out of his leather jacket and lit it. “Who are these people anyway?” He asked, voice blunt. He looked from Jimin to Jungkook and back again.
“Oh. These are some of my friends from the dance department, hyung.” Hoseok said to the man. So, he was the eldest at the table it seemed. Jungkook blinked and took another sip of his drink. “This is Jimin. He’s the cute one.” Hoseok said, gesturing to Jimin. Jimin smiled, his face flushing slightly. “And that’s Jungkook, the most stubborn baby you’ll ever meet.” Hosoek said, gesturing in turn to Jungkook, who was really in need of a refill.
“Stubborn baby? What, is he a high school kid or something?” Yoongi didn’t look at him, directing this question instead at Hoseok.
“No, I’m a freshman.” Jungkook said in annoyance. He didn’t like being spoken of as though he wasn’t there.
The man turned his piercing gaze onto Jungkook and narrowed his eyes a bit. “Freshman, huh? I guess you are still a baby.”
“Babies don’t drink.” Jungkook countered.
“No, you’re right. But they do need chaser.” The man retorted, eying Jungkook’s glass in a very obvious and very derisive way.
Jungkook cocked his head in slight irritation. He heard a challenge in the man’s words. “Well, then why don’t you show me how it’s done, gramps?” Jungkook said flatly, raising an eyebrow.
The older man looked at him hard for a moment and Jungkook was worried that he’d actually pissed the guy off. But then his beautiful face broke into a sly smirk. “My pleasure, kid.” He said and his voice was a bit deeper than Jungkook had noticed before.
At this precise moment, the music changed and Jimin began bouncing in his seat. He whispered into Hosoek’s ear, cherubic face slightly flushed, his expression hopeful. Hosoek gave the younger a small smile and Jimin beamed. Jungkook had no idea what he’d missed but suddenly Jimin was climbing over him to get out of the booth, stretching then downing the shot that Jungkook had forgotten he’d been given.
Hoseok was a bit more polite, asking for Jungkook to move so that he could get out. Jungkook complied as Hoseok shoot the green haired man a questioning, pleading gaze. The man seemed to acquiesce and Hoseok wandered off with Jimin happily in tow. Jungkook sat down again as the older man caught the attention of the waitress again.
“So, what’s your story, kid?” the man asked in the slightly awkward silence that followed.
Jungkook had been staring into the dregs of his glass, doing his best to ignore that he had just been abandoned with a stranger in public (Jimin was going to pay for this, he swore) and almost upended the glass when the man addressed him. “Huh?” He felt like a dunce. The waitress came back with what Jungkook felt like was a few too many shot glasses considering that it was just himself and the green haired man.
The man pulled off his well-loved leather jacket and pulled another cigarette out of his jacket, resting his pack on the table. “Your story. Who are you?” He lit his cigarette and laid the silver lighter on the table beside his hands. “I like to know if I’m drinking with a serial killer or not.” The man’s voice was flat and gave away next to nothing so Jungkook couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Well…” Jungkook said slowly, looking at the man’s large, pale hand as it slid a shot glass in his direction. Jungkook took it between his fingers, his lips feeling a bit looser after his first drink. “I don’t know who I am…but I’m not a serial killer.” He said somewhat shyly. His face felt warm as the older man considered him, his intense gaze seeming to x-ray him. “You never told me your name.” Jungkook said into the silence. “I like to know who I’m drinking with too.”
This earned him a wry smile and the man raised his shot glass in Jungkook’s general direction. They downed a shot each. Jungkook’s throat burned in the best way and he felt himself grimace a bit. “Yoongi.” The man said off-handedly. Jungkook looked at him, feeling his skin becoming warmer. He thought idly that he should have worn a regular t-shirt instead of that damn sweater. “Min Yoongi.”
“Are you a serial killer?” Jungkook asked, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile.
Yoongi mirrored his expression. “Not to your knowledge.” He replied, taking a drag on the cigarette, and dropping the ash in the small silver ashtray beside him.
“So, what do you do when you aren’t killing people? You have to pay the bills some way.” Jungkook had no idea where this surge of confidence had come from; he was going to blame the alcohol.
“Being a serial killer can be lucrative.” Yoongi responded, his smirk slowly becoming a soft smile. “But I make music as a day job. Like you said. Gotta pay the bills some way.” Another drag on his cigarette. Another tap in the ashtray. Another wave to the waitress.
“You make music? Like…you sing?” Jungkook was actually interested now.
“No, I leave that to…” Yoongi’s voice trailed off and his expression clouded for the briefest of moments before he shut it all down. It all happened so quickly that Jungkook would have missed it had he not been paying so much attention to the elder’s beautiful face. “No.” He said softly. “I don’t sing. I rap and I produce.” He pushed the remaining shot glass to Jungkook and they took it down in silence.
“You rap?” Jungkook studied the beautiful man critically. Yoongi shifted slightly under the younger’s scrutiny. Jungkook took in the beautiful face again. He resolved to really pay attention this time. Skin pale like moonlight, dark eyes intense and hypnotizing, small nose spattered with faint freckles and a fainter rose flush from either the alcohol or the heat. Maybe both. Maybe neither. His long neck which hung with a few necklaces that seemed to mean nothing. His hands, smaller than Jungkook’s but still larger than Jimin’s, with rings on his thumbs and his middle fingers. He was wearing all black, which further brought out the paleness of his skin and the darkness of his eyes.
By the time Jungkook looked back into the elder’s eyes, Yoongi’s expression was decidedly more defensive and irritated. “I can believe it.” Jungkook answered just as the waitress put another round on their table. Yoongi visibly relaxed. Jungkook watched his shoulders fall where he’d been clenching them, his fingers loosen where they’d been a fist. Without thinking, he blurted, “You’re…kind of beautiful…did you know that?”
Yoongi looked at him blankly for a moment. His cigarette burned down to the filter and he stubbed it out in the ashtray before absentmindedly pulling another from his pack. He rotated the stick in his long fingers for a moment before his face flushed. He didn’t look at Jungkook as he pushed another shot toward him – what the fuck were they drinking anyway? Jungkook had lost track – and when he lifted his eyes to Jungkook again, they seemed to be filled with all the heady vibrancy of a night sky. Jungkook shivered. “You wanna see?” Yoongi’s voice had gone impossibly deeper still and he moved closer to Jungkook in the circular booth, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
Jungkook was acutely aware of the proximity of the elder, his compact body touching Jungkook’s in innocuous places – his arm, his knee, one of his feet...
The elder pulled headphones out of his pocket and pulled up YouTube on his phone. He handed Jungkook an earbud then scrolled through his videos and clicked on the one he wanted to show Jungkook. The crowd cheering was loud in Jungkook’s ear as he leaned down to watch the elder’s performance. His hair had been blond then. Jungkook thought he looked just as beautiful with that hair as he did with the green hair. Yoongi spoke a few words into the microphone before a bass heavy song blared through the stage speakers and the crowd immediately roared, jumping in time with Yoongi on the stage.
Yoongi spat heavily, intoxicatingly, mesmerizingly into the microphone, telling a story that wove itself around Jungkook’s heart. His words were poetic. His music was angry and beautiful and heartbreaking and addicting. His expression was one of pure bliss. The rapper’s voice broke as he spoke a particularly painful line and he fell to his knees on the stage, overcome. Jungkook felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed heavily, feeling the elder’s pain through the screen. Yoongi stood up and spat vengefully into the microphone, finishing off his story, his song, with a hypnotizing growl. The video came to an end with Yoongi heaving on stage, his head tilted back as he panted.
Yoongi took the earbud from Jungkook’s ear and slid a bit further away, lighting the cigarette he’d been playing with as he reached for another shot. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Jungkook. He watched his friend dancing with Jimin in a way that couldn’t be legal out of doors – they were nearly fucking on the dancefloor. Jungkook watched this, giving himself a moment to school his features into something more reasonable.
“You…” he began after a moment, signaling the waitress himself this time. “You really love your music.” Jungkook said, looking cautiously at the elder.
Yoongi’s eyes crinkled in a soft smile. “Music is my life.” He replied simply.
“Thank you for showing me, hyung.” Jungkook said, his voice breaking with sincerity.
Yoongi’s eyes softened impossibly further. “No problem, kid.” His brusque manner belied his expression. They took another shot together – Jungkook would probably not drink anymore after this, he’d had enough – and Yoongi turned those intense, probing eyes onto him. “So, I’ve shown you who I am. Who are you?” The question was more than just a matter of names or birthplaces or majors or even favorite songs.
Jungkook looked down at the empty shot glass in his hand. “I don’t know, hyung.” He murmured, suddenly feeling embarrassed and impossibly small. “I have no idea who I am.” He said with a sobering feeling of realization.
Yoongi seemed to reach for him, but Jungkook stood suddenly, unable to look the elder in his eyes. “I’m…gonna go get some air.” He all but ran for the entrance, not seeing Yoongi’s expression change to one of disappointment. Just as Jungkook reached the door, he realized that Jimin was still in the club with Hoseok. He gritted his teeth and headed into the throng of undulating bodies, just as the music shifted once more. He reached Jimin and Hoseok, who were entwined in a way that shouldn’t even be anatomically possible and was definitely not for public places – maybe they were into that, who was Jungkook to judge? – and he heard the crowd erupt in cheers and noise.
Someone walked out onto the stage. Jungkook heard a single piano note and turned his face to the stage as the people around him absolutely lost it. A man was in front of the microphone, no piano in sight. The music must have been coming from the sound system. The lights fell on the man and Jungkook was stuck. The man licked his full, broad lips and opened his mouth to sing. A deep, hypnotic voice bled into the microphone and the crowd around him swayed.
He couldn’t help but think of Yoongi’s music. He looked back towards the booth where he’d been drinking with the elder but it was empty now, Yoongi nowhere in sight. Yoongi’s music, too, had left him entirely stuck, his passion, his story, his voice, the sheer fact that he was baring his soul for the world to see on that stage. Jungkook felt his throat close for the second time that night. This man’s voice was much like that. It left him speechless, left him wanting, left him completely stuck.
***
Taehyung was nearly done with his set when he noticed the kid. The one kid who wasn’t moving with the rest of the audience. He was standing stock still, just right of center. He was looking at Taehyung in a way that was hard to decipher so Taehyung didn’t try to. He closed his eyes as he hit a particularly high note and the crowd shouted their approval.
He didn’t look for the boy again as he finished his performance. When he’d finally hit the last note, he was entirely spent, panting against the microphone stand, the microphone itself dangling loosely between his long fingers. The noise of the crowd left him deaf. As he left the stage, the DJ started playing music again and the crowd once again became a mass of undulating bodies.
Jin was backstage speaking with the owner in hushed tones before he noticed Taehyung coming toward him, looking entirely exhausted. “I need a drink, hyung.” Taehyung whined, slumping into a chair.
The owner looked down at Taehyung. He was a short, stocky man with hairy arms and hands that were as large as Taehyung’s and much thicker. “You did really good, kid. Those people love you.” Taehyung gave the man a winning smile but didn’t respond. The owner talked with Jin for a bit longer before wandering off with his hands in his pockets.
“You did so well, Tae.” Jin said, his expression warm. “I’m so proud of you.” Taehyung gave his manager a small smile but squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Proud’ wasn’t something he could deal with. He ignored it in favor of whining for a drink again. “You’ll have to get it yourself. I have to leave in a bit. Joonie wants to meet up for a late dinner.” Jin said, looking wholly unaffected by Taehyung’s histrionics.
Taehyung grimaced. “When are you going to stop abandoning me for your boyfriend, hyung?” He said, sounding pained.
“As soon as you become as beautiful as him and can manage to take me from him – which will literally never happen.” Jin replied flatly, leading Taehyung from behind the stage and into the throngs of people. Some congratulated him, some patted him on the back, more than a few gave him appreciative glances, letting him know that he would have his option of companions for the night.
He saw a small blur of orange hair and pale golden skin barrel into his stomach from nowhere. Taehyung stumbled backward with an ‘oof’. “TaeTae, you were so goooooooooood,” the orange blur crowed, squeezing him so hard it nearly suffocated him.
Taehyung laughed. “Jiminie, I’m probably going to die if you don’t let me go. It isn’t even the first time you’ve seen me perform.” He complained with no heat.
“But you were so amazing,” his best friend wailed, finally releasing him. His eyes shone with tears and there was an unmistakable flush across his puffy cheeks. Jimin had been drinking. That explained his exorbitance. Jimin in general was energetic and overwhelming for those who didn’t know him. With alcohol in his system he was even more so. “C’mon, I’m buying you a drink and I’m not taking no for an answer.” The smaller man commanded, latching firmly onto Taehyung’s wrist.
“I wasn’t planning on telling you no.” Taehyung replied. Jin followed behind them, his face firmly shoved into his phone. The gooey expression on his face let Taehyung know that Jin would be leaving sooner rather than later if ‘Joonie’ had anything to say about it.
The older man pulled him to the bar where two other people Taehyung didn’t know were waiting for him. Jimin introduced them as Hosoek, a senior in his department and the shorter of the two, and Jungkook, his roommate. Taehyung recognized the younger as the boy who hadn’t been moving in the crowd. He stared at Taehyung with the same unreadable expression and opened his mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it. Taehyung studied the kid. He was tall, leanly built, his skin golden. His hair was a soft brown and his large eyes just a few shades deeper. He had a small mouth with a full bottom lip. He was gorgeous. Taehyung wondered if the boy staring at him like that meant that he wanted the elder to take him home and was just going to ask when the boy said, “Hyung, I can’t drink anything else. I’m gonna go home.” His voice was slightly unsure and inflected upward on the last syllable, turning the word into a question.
Taehyung cocked an eyebrow upward in confusion. What was this kid’s issue? He was still staring at Taehyung in a way that Taehyung couldn’t understand and it was bothering him.
“Awwww, Kookie, c’mon, just one drink!” Jimin whined, his beautiful features clouding heartbreakingly. No one with a soul could say no to that face. How could they?
“If I take one more drink, I’ll be completely drunk, hyung.” The boy complained. “I already drank way too much with Yoongi-hyung.”
That name brought Taehyung up short. How did that kid know Yoongi? He was just about to ask that too when the kid pulled away from a clinging Jimin and bowed to the elder men respectfully, stumbling just the faintest bit. Apparently, Taehyung was wrong. Someone could say no to Jimin’s pouty face. Maybe the kid had no soul. Or maybe he was just used to Jimin’s shit.
Taehyung watched him go. “How did you meet him?” He asked without looking at Jimin.
“He barged into my practice room during this summer and I made him hang out with me for a bit.” Jimin said, handing Taehyung a shot and finally capturing the younger’s gaze. “He’s really sweet. He’s got a good heart and a lot of personality. He just doesn’t like being in crowds, that’s all.”
Taehyung looked down at Jimin, his expression calculating. “You should invite me to your place more often, Jiminie.” He said thoughtfully.
Jimin blinked, then smirked. “Would I be inviting you because you miss hanging out with me and have still not managed to come see my new place and congratulate me because you’re a shitty friend?” Taehyung’s face became slightly guilty. “Or would I be inviting you because you wanna fuck my roommate?”
Taehyung’s guilty expression became a grimace and he looked away. “Both things can be true at once. I can multitask.” He grumbled.
Jimin’s smirk became a wide, knowing smile but he said nothing, only clinked their glasses together and downed the shot in one. He sidled closer to the older man – Hoseok, Taehyung thought his name was – and caught the attention of the bartender again. Another round.
Jin mumbled something incoherent into Taehyung’s ear, vaguely dismissing himself. His face was still gooey and gross and Taehyung knew that he was off to canoodle with his boyfriend. Ew. He scanned the few people who’d congregated around their trio and saw one girl, in particular, eying him extremely obviously. Taehyung sized her up, looking at her licentiously from head to toe. She was pretty enough. She would do fine for a companion tonight. Taehyung gave her a lazy smirk and a wink. Her face flushed from chin to crown and she looked vaguely like she was going to fall. Oh, yes. She would definitely do for the evening.
Taehyung woke with a scream unreleased on his tongue. His body was doused in cold sweat and the girl beside him barely stirred. He looked at her in vague disgust – what even was her name? He hadn’t bothered to find out before he’d stumbled from the club attached to her by his mouth. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake – which was just fine with Taehyung.
He didn’t feel like talking about the nightmare anyway.
He released a heavy sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands before gingerly getting out of the bed and finding his clothes. He didn’t feel like being there anymore. His heart pounded in his chest and he paused as he pulled his shirt over his head. He sighed again. He fucking hated this. He left the girl’s apartment, nearly slamming the door as anger overtook him. He knew vaguely where he was and he wasn’t too far from Yoongi’s place so that’s where he headed.
No matter how much he drank, no matter how many partners he slept with, no matter how good a performance he’d given, he still had to deal with those fucking nightmares. He hadn’t been back in Daegu for almost 6 years but he still couldn’t shake it. He still couldn’t sleep. He still couldn’t have peace. Not with anyone but Yoongi. He didn’t know why that was. He refused to explore it lest it, too, sour and fade away.
Taehyung really needed a drink.
Maybe Yoongi had something at his house.
He walked into the apartment building and got into the elevator, walked the length of the hallway to get to Yoongi’s apartment. Yoongi hated being woken up. Taehyung was completely sure that had it been anyone but him, Yoongi would have killed them. But it was only 2 and Yoongi normally stayed awake for a long time if he was working on something. Taehyung knocked then waited. Nothing. He knocked again, more insistently this time. “Hyuuuuung,” he whined. Yoongi hated it when he whined. “Yoongi-hyung, wake up, I need you.” He sounded pitiful. He felt pitiful. He was pitiful.
He was just about to knock again when the door was wrenched open. The apartment smelled like cigarettes and the lights to his studio were on. Taehyung had been right. Yoongi had been working. The shorter man looked up at him in extreme irritation. “What the fuck, Tae?” He said waspishly.
Taehyung grinned down at him, trying to look apologetic and failing spectacularly. “I missed you.” He crooned, wondering if he was still drunk.
“Bullshit.” Yoongi immediately retorted. “Hurry up and come in if you’re coming. I have shit to do.”
“Someone’s testy.” Taehyung observed. The glare that Yoongi flashed him was enough to stop him expounding though. He kicked off his shoes and immediately went to Yoongi’s kitchen, looking through the refrigerator before he found what he was looking for – alcohol.
“Tae, what are you doing here? And don’t give me that cutesy shit. What are you really doing here?” Yoongi asked him, sitting down at his small kitchen table, and looking suddenly exhausted.
Taehyung opened the green bottle and took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. “I couldn’t sleep.” He said quietly, not looking at Yoongi. There was silence. Yoongi knew about his nightmares, knew that he couldn’t sleep. Taehyung looked up at him after a moment, taking another sip from his bottle.
Yoongi’s face was inscrutable. He just looked at Taehyung. Then his eyes narrowed and he stood. “I’m not going to bed for a while. Not until I’m finished. You may as well go to sleep. It’ll take a while.” And he padded off to his studio.
Taehyung took a look at the small, dark apartment, at the bed in a nook against the far wall. Yoongi preferred to use the bedroom as a studio so he slept in the nook in the living room, which still housed the normal furnishings. It should have felt cluttered but it simply felt comfortable. As clean and inviting as the bed looked, it held no appeal for him. He felt just as cold looking at it as he had when he’d woken up in the first place. He followed Yoongi into his studio. Yoongi gave him a questioning glance as he took a seat in the only other chair in the room. “I told you, hyung. I couldn’t sleep. No sense in me trying.” He didn’t know what his expression looked like but Yoongi didn’t question him.
Taehyung looked at the man’s back as he worked, his dark eyes flitting from one monitor to the next as he created whatever masterpiece he was working on. Taehyung sipped from his bottle again, wondering what it was about Min Yoongi that took the nightmares away. Why could he sleep over here? He wondered what would have happened had Jin not recommended Yoongi to work with in the first place. Jin’s boyfriend and Min Yoongi had apparently been friends for a long time, since Yoongi had been known merely by his stage name and not as a producer. They had been performers together. Jin had assured Taehyung – who had just come off a weekend of alcohol and sex and was extremely irritated by the lack of food in his system – that Min Yoongi was probably the best.
When Jin had taken Taehyung to meet Yoongi, he had been blond, fresh off the stage. Taehyung has been fascinated that someone so beautiful could rap so viciously, could speak such harsh words, and turn them into poetry. He told a story that Taehyung could relate to. And when he’d opened his mouth, speaking in a wholly uninterested way with that lazy drawl and unaffected air, Taehyung had made it his business to make it known that he was far from some second-rate, wannabe idol. He had a story too. He wanted to tell it too. Yoongi hadn’t been at all convinced then.
But Taehyung wondered if maybe that had changed now. He’d garnered a respectable following from the music he created, with Yoongi’s help, of course. Yoongi pulled no punches with the younger, always telling him clearly if something was worth creating or not. Always telling him bluntly if the song was good or trash.
It was after a particularly grueling and tense session between the two that Taehyung had finally exploded, that their relationship had become more than professional. “Who the fuck are you to tell me whether or not this song is good enough? You don’t even know who the hell I am!” he’d raged, waving the crumpled lyrics in Yoongi’s face.
“I don’t need to know who you are to know whether or not something is good, kid. I already told you, it’s got potential but it just isn’t ready yet. You can’t get pissed at me because your shit isn’t good enough.” His voice had been flat, a monotone, a mere statement of facts. This had pissed Taehyung off even more. After weeks of push and pull, slight flirting and double entendre, suddenly he wasn’t good enough?
“Fuck you, Min Yoongi. I’m more than good enough. Don’t you ever say that to me again.” Taehyung hadn’t imagined that those words would hurt him so much but they had.
“I never said that you weren’t good enough. I said the song wasn’t, not yet.” Yoongi clarified, getting irritated now.
“Yeah, well this song is me. All of my songs are. You’re so fucking cruel.” Taehyung hadn’t had it in him to scream anymore. He’d wanted to leave, to go cry about it somewhere far from Min Yoongi’s cruel, expressionless black eyes. He’d turned to do just that, already at the front door, already shoving his shoes on.
Yoongi had sighed. “Okay, fine, then. Be pissed. Be upset at what I said. But I know what it’s like to pour your entire soul into your music and it still not be perfect. You wanna tell a fucking story, kid? You gotta do it right. There is no half-assing in music. Either you do it right or you don’t do it at all. Period. You wanna put that out as it is now? Fine. But take my name off of it. Cuz I’m not going to approve some shit that I know you’re going to regret.” Taehyung turned around and looked at him, his eyes somewhat glassy. This was the most Yoongi had ever said to him at one time. “I know you can do better. And so do you. You don’t want criticism? Don’t work in music. Because there will be people examining you, your story, your entire fucking self and giving you shit for it. Which is why you always bring your absolute best. Otherwise, what the fuck are you on the stage for?”
Taehyung pulled his shoes off again and let the lyrics flutter to the floor. He walked toward Min Yoongi and kissed him. Yoongi had stiffened under his hands before relenting and kissing him back. That was the first night he and Yoongi had ever had sex. That was the first night in over a year that Taehyung had slept without nightmares.
Taehyung looked at Yoongi now, completely focused on creating something he wouldn’t regret. He felt that odd feeling in his stomach again, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out the words. His bottle of alcohol was empty and his vision had gone slightly fuzzy around the edges as his current buzz met up with the one he’d had earlier that night.
He stood and walked up to Yoongi then crawled under his desk. Yoongi grunted in irritation but otherwise didn’t move. He was used to Taehyung doing weird shit by this point. He probably thought Taehyung was going to go to sleep under the desk…again. He didn’t though. He pulled at Yoongi’s basketball shorts. Yoongi looked down at him in vague surprise. “What are you doing, Tae?”
“Off.” Was all Taehyung managed to say, his gaze firmly fixated on the junction between Yoongi’s thighs.
“Tae, I’m working.” Yoongi said, definitely irritated now.
“Then keep working. But take these off, though.” Taehyung countered, tugging at the loose shorts more insistently still.
Yoongi knew when he was fighting a losing battle with the younger so he complied if only to get him to shut the fuck up and pulled his large headphones back onto his ears, completely blocking out anymore of Taehyung’s whining.
Taehyung looked at the pale skin before him. It was woefully unmarked. He started at the top of the elder’s thighs, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across the soft skin there, grazing with his teeth in a way that he knew Yoongi wouldn’t be able to ignore even if he tried to. He was right; Yoongi’s dick twitched. He smirked and ran his fingernails on the inside of the thigh he wasn’t kissing. Yoongi released a sigh and tried to adjust himself in his chair, tried to focus. Taehyung turned his attentions to the other thigh, the first having been given a trio of bruises to Taehyung’s liking. He set to work on the inner thigh and Yoongi hardened further, his legs unconsciously widening, inviting Taehyung to suck him.
Taehyung finished with the second thigh. He loved that Yoongi bruised so easily. It was easy to mark him. It was easy to silently claim him. He planted a small, chaste kiss on the head, getting salty precum on his lips. He licked them then engulfed Yoongi entirely in his mouth. The clicking on Yoongi’s mouse stuttered and the elder hissed, “Shit.” He tangled his free hand in Taehyung’s hair as the younger widened his mouth to take in more of Yoongi’s girth. He swallowed around the elder, earning a deep groan in the process.
“Tae…you’re making it really hard for me to focus.” Yoongi said, his voice gravelly and deep. Taehyung hollowed his cheeks and swallowed Yoongi’s entire length in reply and received a savage tug on his hair in response. It tingled and Taehyung smiled. Yoongi tried to continue working but Taehyung was refusing to relent, working his mouth, his tongue, his hands in exactly the way he knew the elder liked. Yoongi gave up, leaning back in his chair, moaning out Taehyung’s name in earnest now. He thrusted gently into Taehyung’s mouth once and Taehyung stopped, thinking Yoongi was going to fuck his mouth. He allowed his jaw to relax, Yoongi’s head brushing the back of his throat.
“Suck me, Tae, what the fuck.” Yoongi demanded. Taehyung complied, slurping his way across Yoongi’s length, from the head to the shaft. He flattened his tongue and licked the underside while staring at Yoongi and Yoongi swore, tugging at Taehyung’s hair again. He was close; Taehyung could always tell. The elder always went from groaning and swearing to whimpering. His thighs began to shake just the slightest bit. His toes curled. And finally, he came, shooting into the back of Taehyung’s throat. Taehyung swallowed it all and pulled away, licking the head, then his lips.
Yoongi looked down at him, his expression rapturous.
Something rose in Taehyung’s chest, something swelling and sweet. He ignored it; must have been the alcohol. “Can we go to bed now?” Taehyung asked quietly, a soft smile on his lips.
“Fine, you brat. Hand me my shorts.” Yoongi answered gruffly.
Taehyung crawled from beneath the desk, kissing each of Yoongi’s thighs on his way up and handed the man his shorts. He stretched and scooped up the empty soju bottle to deposit into the trash on his way to bed. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into Yoongi’s bed, holding the comforter open for the other as he followed. Without the light from the studio, the apartment was completely dark. It was late and Taehyung was finally tired. Yoongi assumed the position of the little spoon and Taehyung held onto him tightly, nestling his face into Yoongi’s neck.
His breathing was even and quiet. “Why do you keep doing this to me, Tae?” Yoongi whispered into the darkness.
“Doing what?” Taehyung replied, just as quietly.
Yoongi turned over in his arms, facing him suddenly. “You know what I mean.”
Taehyung was suddenly uncomfortable. “Hyung, I don’t wanna talk about this. I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted.” Yoongi stared at him unabashedly, his dark eyes seeming to swallow Taehyung whole. The younger squirmed. “Hyung, please.” He said, closing his eyes. He hated when Yoongi got like this. He really didn’t feel like walking back to his own apartment but he would if he had to. He just wouldn’t sleep tonight.
Yoongi sighed heavily and turned away from him. He didn’t look as though he wanted Taehyung there anymore but he hadn’t explicitly told him to leave so Taehyung stayed, holding Yoongi tightly, burying his face in Yoongi’s warmth. In the silence, eventually, sleep overtook him. He didn’t see that Yoongi’s eyes were glassy, that one tear, just one, rolled from his eye into his pillow.