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with a salty pretzel stick held between his lips and eyes burning from the bright glare of the screen, jimin decides he’s going to cause some trouble tonight.
in his humble opinion, he’ll be doing a favor, providing a service he should be thanked for. in the eyes of others, not so much. but he’s really not one to care.
he deserves to have a little fun anyway, doesn’t he? he’s been working on the yearbook all afternoon and evening to meet their first deadline, long after the rest of the staff had gone home. editor-in-chief duties he supposes but it’s well past the acceptable hour to still be at school and his is the only computer among twenty that’s still up and running, adobe’s indesign open on his last double-page spread of the day.
all he has to do before shutting down the system and locking up the room is finish this spread and the senior superlative form. it’s a simple google form with the final candidates for each category, set to be sent out to every senior on monday morning for voting to begin.
simple task really but oh so boring. jimin’s been staring at the same pictures of rich kids in foreign countries for the summer vacation section and he really wants to go home. the only thing that could keep him going the last stretch is the anticipation of stirring up some excitement.
no one will really mind, he convinces himself as he opens the form and clicks the edit option. taehyung will get over it, he insists as he scrolls down the category he’s looking for. good things can come out of this. a relationship or two. but mostly it’s only to cure his boredom.
he types a new option into the list, unable to hold back a chuckle, and finalizes the rest of the form. without a second of hesitation, he emails the link to the principal.
this should be fun.
✉︎
two things jeongguk hates: fumbles and rumors.
every football player hates fumbles. specifically, fumbles in the last five minutes of the last quarter, scores too close to afford a mistake. when his nervous hands miss a play and the ball slips from his grasp and breaks the anticipation of the crowd. even if they win (and especially if they lose), the nicknames usually surface the following monday. different variations of his name with ‘fumble’ interwoven somewhere in the middle. they follow him down the halls, even from people that don’t even care about football, only going to the games to paint their face in school colors and post on their snapchat stories every time they score.
granted, it doesn’t happen often. he’s starting quarterback for a reason. but it still stings when freshmen half his size snicker behind his back.
“as if they could do better,” hoseok always says, clapping a hand on his shoulder and steering him away before he could act on his frustration. and sure, he’s the one on the field providing for everyone’s friday night entertainment. so he grits his teeth and waits until the next game.
two: rumors.
this one’s easy, really. whispers, gossip, and false information. sticking noses where they shouldn’t.
every year everyone wonders who jeongguk will take to the homecoming dance, as if the information belonged on the cover of every tabloid. every year an underclassmen takes their chance and asks him. others feed off shallow high school drama and spread the story that it is in fact them that jeongguk will take to a shabbily decorated school gymnasium, despite jeongguk not even knowing their name.
it’s funny but so, so exhausting having to explain to his team that no, he has not asked out that cheerleader or that trumpet player or the skinny kid on the robotics team.
“it’s because you’re the quarterback, jeonggukkie,” seokjin says, as if that explained anything. “people care about football players.”
jeongguk never understood. “doesn’t make sense.”
“it will, with time,” he says pointedly, as if jeongguk hasn’t been in america for the past five years.
“no, i don’t think it will.”
the point is, rumors are groundless and tedious to get rid of and jeongguk doesn’t like them.
so imagine his exasperation when two linebackers flag him down halfway through morning practice with phone in hand, interrupting his drills.
“what do you want,” he says between breaths, wiping his sweat with the collar of his shirt.
the two seniors flash identical devious smiles at him before playfully smacking his shoulders. “you didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend!”
he pauses, confused. he doesn’t. “i don’t?”
“don’t play with us, jeon! why didn’t you share?” the one the right says, eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity.
“what the hell are you talking about?” jeongguk hasn’t even gone on a date since last april, much less scored a boyfriend.
they both laugh and nudge him again. “kim taehyung?”
jeongguk frowns, instantly recognizing the name but utterly surprised at hearing it in this context. he’s all too familiar with kim taehyung, considering their bitter history. starting freshman year when jeongguk was high off the glory of making varsity as a ninth grader and had morphed into the most arrogant form of himself he could muster for no other reason but to fit in with the white upperclassmen that found the foreign newbie fascinating. truly a rookie mistake.
paired with taehyung for a biology project that jeongguk was less than enthusiastic for, they didn’t exactly hit it off. in proper fashion of the then-jeongguk, he had merely slept through third period every day for the two weeks it took for taehyung to finish the project by himself. it was an asshole move, he’ll admit, but kim taehyung got his revenge almost immediately.
“you didn’t do the work, your name doesn’t go on it,” he had said on the last day, five minutes before the bell rang.
“you can’t do that kim, i’ll fail the class.” he was barely making a passing grade and it would no doubt take a nosedive into an F if he didn’t get any credit for the project.
taehyung had only packed up his markers and flashed him a less than kind smile. “doesn’t sound like my problem.”
it wasn’t. not really. but when jeongguk was benched during the first game of the season for ineligible grades, he made it taehyung’s problem.
sure, jeongguk was kind of a dick his freshman year but they’ve maintained a snarky attitude towards each other for the rest of high school thus far, pettiness driving their each interaction.
in the face of the sudden accusation however, he can only let out a noise of confusion. “the kid who takes pictures at our games?”
by some curse dictated by the stars, he’s forced to see taehyung every friday night on the sidelines, hiding his glares behind a DSLR with a scarily large lens protruding from the center.
his two teammates share an amused look before pointing it at jeongguk. “no need to play pretend anymore! you didn’t have to hide it.”
he raises his hands in surrender, frown coating his face. “i’m not hiding anything? i don’t know what you're talking about.”
they both frown at his insistence. “then why am i voting you guys for cutest couple?”
“ what? ” what. what?
“senior superlatives?” one of them offers.
“for the yearbook,” the other clarifies.
“me and taehyung?” he asks again, incredulous. with a scowl soon to form, he snatches the phone out of his hand and squints at the screen. there, before his eyes on a google form in arial font, below two highschool sweetheart couples: jeon jeongguk and kim taehyung.
“what the fuck is this?”
another look passes between them, almost disbelief.
“where did you get this?” he demands. he’s close to panicking now because this wasn’t a rumor he’s heard before but it’s maybe the worst.
“the form’s been emailed to every senior,” his teammate said, voice growing smaller with every word.
jeongguk’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “every senior?”
it’s only when coach is calling an end to practice and everyone heads to the locker room does he give the phone back, head spinning.
sitting on the bench with shower steam circling him, he gets hounded by the entire team for his “secrecy”, hoseok and seokjin affronted and jeongguk unable to get a single audible word out.
rumors are baseless, and frankly, a waste of everyone’s time. jeongguk doesn’t like them, doesn’t like dealing with them or the people involved. they’re a pain in his ass and he knows for a fact that kim taehyung is only going to make things worse.
✉︎
two things taehyung hates: the auditorium and park jimin.
with its rows and rows of seats and a daunting stage, the auditorium has got to be the worst place to take pictures. it’s dark in every alcove with only a select few parts of the stage illuminated with proper lighting. move one step too far left and his pictures come out orange or too grainy from the cranked up ISO. taehyung has a thin patience for camera settings and having to alter them every time he shifts in position is annoying beyond measure.
with every theater production, orchestra concert, and dance showcase that requires taehyung to stalk up and down the aisles, another piece of his soul withers into oblivion.
“it’s your job ,” jimin snorts. “i would fire you but no one else is stupid enough to do it.”
“you actually have no authority to fire me but i applaud your attempt.”
case in point, the second thing he hates is park jimin.
“you think you’re so funny, don’t you.”
jimin shrugs with indifference, not taking his eyes off the computer screen.
he doesn’t actually hate him, not really. they practically came out of the womb together, jimin is as close as family. but right now? right now, he really hates park jimin.
there’s no else to blame for the atrocity that appeared on his phone screen just an hour ago when he was voting for senior superlatives, jeon jeongguk’s name next to his under ‘cutest couple’. in the moment, he thought he was dreaming, a nightmare. he thought he would wake up at any second. but he had blinked and it was still there but he knows damn well who was in charge of setting it up.
“did you think it was funny? did you have a good laugh?” taehyung pushes, nudging him on every other word with excessive force, aggravated with the lack of reaction.
jimin snorts humorlessly, ironically scrolling through taehyung’s pictures from last friday’s game while essentially mocking him. granted he hasn’t said a word yet but taehyung is perceiving everything as an insult right now.
“if you’re done having your fun, can you fix it now?” he all but pleads. he’s truly desperate to disassociate himself from jeon jeongguk, peeved at the knowledge that hundreds have probably already opened the form.
“there’s nothing to fix,” jimin says, amused smile poking out of his stoic expression. “congratulations, you’re in the running.”
taehyung scowls. “stop playing, jimin. fix it.”
jimin finally spares him a glance, eyes leaving the spread open on the computer in front of him. “and how do you suggest i do that?”
he huffs and moves to sit on the table rather than the chair, attempting to make himself appear intimidating despite knowing it has zero effect on jimin. “email the principal the right form for him to send out again. simple.”
jimin makes a show of contemplating the suggestion, head tilted and face scrunched up in thought before dropping it in favor of a blank stare. “no.”
“ jimin, ” he whines, escalating from nudges to full on manhandling, grabbing one of his shoulders with both hands and shaking roughly. “fix it, you annoying fuck.”
“we’re on a schedule, taehyung,” he reprimands obnoxiously, seemingly unbothered with being tossed around. “not going to change it just for you.”
yoongi walks in then, camera around his neck after being tasked with capturing some candid shots of the morning crowd for filler pictures. the door falls shut behind him, sound resonating in the nearly empty room, vacant save for the two of them. when taehyung turns at the noise, he braces himself for the inevitable, immediately taking in yoongi’s confused expression.
“since when are you and jeongguk an item?” he asks in legitimate curiosity. “thought you hated the guy.”
taehyung hangs his head with a groan, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes in frustration.
“hate is a strong word,” he dismisses. and perhaps it’s not the best thing to answer when he’s trying to clear his name but taehyung likes to think he’s too kind to hate on anyone, even someone as insufferable as jeon jeongguk.
“what he means to say,” jimin says with an evil quirk to his lips. “is that he has a big fat crush on him.”
the confusion only amplifies on yoongi’s face and taehyung wants to disappear.
“in the eighth grade! over four years ago,” he snaps. “when he was the sweet new kid. now he’s just a dick.”
“right,” jimin snorts and honestly fuck him, what the fuck.
yoongi tosses jimin the sd card before plopping down on a chair near them with a huff. “so you’re not dating?”
taehyung lets out an aggravated “no” at the same time that jimin emits a cheeky “yes, they are.”
“jimin!” he swats the back of his head with extra force, his friend not even caring, just downloading yoongi’s pictures while cackling. taehyung directs his attention to yoongi with a desperate attempt for clarity. “we’re not . jimin thought it would be funny to put us on the form.”
“can’t you get in trouble for that?”
that makes taehyung frown slightly because yes actually, he can. he hadn’t considered it but lying and manipulating the form has repercussions, especially on the editor of the yearbook. seems like a silly thing to get in trouble over but high school administrators have the tendency to be anal over the smallest details. a pointed glance over at jimin reveals that he doesn’t share the worry.
jimin winks at him and it does little to appease him. “don’t worry, yoongi, my best friend wouldn’t rat me out.”
fucker.
“didn’t know jeongguk was your best friend?” taehyung throws back. “did you forget about him? he doesn’t owe you anything.”
“he owes me hours of my time slaving over the varsity football spread,” he says with a touch of bitterness. “a spread where his face is plastered in seven different places.”
“aren’t we not supposed to do that,” yoongi starts before jimin cuts him off with a glare.
“we’re not but out of the fifty kids on that damn team, taehyung seems incapable of taking a single good picture of anyone but jeongguk,” jimin responds. it’s common courtesy to try to include as many students in the yearbook as possible, not the same faces over and over again throughout the book and definitely not on a single spread. “you know, for claiming to hate him, you sure do take a lot of pictures of him.”
taehyung scowls. “he’s the quarterback! he has the ball for practically half the game, it’s not my fault.”
yoongi makes a noise of agreement, reminding taehyung once again why he likes him more.
“point is, taehyung will protect me from anything the jock tries to pull. right?” jimin says pointedly.
the problem here is that despite the inches in height between them, jimin has always been scary. with his piercing gaze and oddly tiny fingers that can do serious damage when they’re curled into a fist, he has a way of getting what he wants. right now, jimin wants to stay out of trouble and finish the book in peace and with that look, he might just get it. they’re best friends, practically came out of the womb together and even though taehyung hates him sometimes, deep down, he knows he doesn’t want him to get into trouble. jimin dug himself into this hole but taehyung will pull him out of it with only a pinch of reluctance.
“fuck you,” is all he says but jimin knows he won.
it’s only a dumb poll. they’re not actually dating, it’s not like they’ll win .
it’s a joke, taehyung can take a joke. granted jimin’s idea of a joke carries several implications, taehyung can handle it. the voting period only lasts about a week anyway.
and if jeongguk can’t handle it then taehyung will find a way to deal with it, for jimin’s sake.
taehyung will deal with it, okay?
✉︎
taehyung decides he’d rather deal with it much, much later when he sees jeon jeongguk leaning against his locker before first period, tick in his jaw and fingers flexing around the straps of his jansport. his hair is still wet from a post-practice shower and he’s looking ridiculously attractive for it being seven-thirty in the morning. his eyes are alight with something sharp where his gaze is trained on his shoes and it’s that (not his unfortunately pretty face) that has nerves coiling in taehyung’s gut.
he spins on his heel immediately, textbooks be damned, and speed-walks away in hopes that jeongguk hadn’t seen him.
wishful thinking.
“i don’t think so,” he hears from behind him before quick footsteps follow.
taehyung said he could handle it, would deal with it, but he didn’t mean right now. this issue didn’t even exist a mere two hours ago, he’s not even sure if it’s truly dawned on him. what exactly is he supposed to say to jeongguk? they haven’t exchanged a word since two weeks ago when jeongguk accidentally knocked yoongi and his camera over with a ball at the first game of the season, and it was nothing short of hostile. he doesn’t know what attitude he’s supposed to adopt now, when faced with lean muscles and bright eyes that don’t match the glares sent taehyung’s way.
jeongguk’s calloused hand wraps around his bicep with a strong grip. “where do you think you’re going?”
taehyung won’t let himself be intimidated, he decides. when whipping around to face him, though, he finds it hard to meet jeongguk’s hard gaze, feeling an odd sense of guilt eating its way up his throat despite taehyung being as much as a victim as he is.
“to class,” he manages. “you should try going to one.”
jeongguk huffs in sarcastic amusement. “funny but i think you need to explain yourself first.”
taehyung shoves out of jeongguk’s grip and chooses to play dumb from lack of quick thinking. “about what?”
“you know what, kim,” he returns quickly, eyes narrowing.
taehyung takes a daring step backwards in the direction of his first class. “hm, not sure i do jeon.”
he turns around then, walking quickly and uselessly hoping that jeongguk wouldn’t follow.
“taehyung,” he hisses, matching his pace effortlessly and walking beside him. “cut the bullshit, did you do it?”
taehyung scoffs before he can stop himself. jeon jeongguk may be nice to look at but in no universe would he ever want to date him. he’s not pretty enough to look past his attitude. “now who’s the funny one?”
“stop avoiding the fucking question.” taehyung can practically feel the animosity rolling off of him. “just tell me what’s going on.”
with his gaze bouncing around the hall in avoidance of the boy next to him, taehyung can’t help but notice the stares coming from every direction. in the morning hustle to reach class before the bell, the two of them catch the eyes of every student in the halls. some dirty, most curious, too many knowing glances. attention follows where jeongguk goes and it irks taehyung to the core.
“nothing’s going on,” he grits out, jaw tensing when they pass a group of freshmen whispering to themselves. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“what the fuck, kim,” jeongguk says, frustration dripping from his words but taehyung’s nerves are hitting their peak, climbing with every second jeongguk continues to trail after him.
“hey would you look at that, the bell's about to ring,” he says loudly, cutting over jeongguk’s angry questions. they stop abruptly outside taehyung’s honors chemistry class. “bye, jeon, please don’t talk to me ever again.”
he delivers an awkward and definitely unnecessary pat to jeongguk’s shoulder before practically sprinting into the room, leaving behind an increasingly confused football player with more questions than before.
✉︎
“you didn’t tell me you were dating someone,” namjoon says when jeongguk falls into his seat, sinking into the plastic and muffling a groan into his bag.
it’s only his third class of the day and he’s heard that exact same sentence at least a hundred times, even from people he doesn’t talk to regularly. after taehyung clumsily evaded his questions, jeongguk started dodging those statements himself from friends and acquaintances alike. in the halls stopping him on his trek to class, in class in whispers across the aisles of desks, even a paper airplane colliding against the side of his face. worse than the questions is his inability to answer them. after the fifth confused expression he received, he gave up on trying to explain that they weren’t actually dating and found themselves in the predicament regardless. he sticks to awkwardly laughing and pretending like he can’t hear the calls of his name. it’s hard to deal with the situation when he knows nothing about it, not having had the opportunity to harass taehyung for the truth since this morning.
he drops his bag to the floor and levels a deadpan look at the wall. “i’m not.”
he can’t say much else. there are too many blanks to fill but his word bank is empty and dry in every corner. with three hours of the same conversation under his belt, he’s grown tired of it. if it were anyone else, jeongguk would’ve snapped at the question by now but namjoon is too kind to warrant it. his gentle care has wrapped up many of jeongguk’s injuries during games so he uses the last of his patience to respond to namjoon’s inquisitive gaze.
“what do you mean? did something happen?” namjoon sounds genuinely worried and it makes jeongguk snort.
“no,” he responds. “we’re not dating. i’m just as confused as you are.”
“don’t you have to be nominated by other people to be in the running?” namjoon asks, voice dipping quieter when the bell rings and the teacher starts talking.
jeongguk fiddles with his pen. “think so but there’s no way we got voted in, we’ve never been on good terms.”
namjoon frowns and opens his mouth to ask something else but a quiz is being placed in front of them, focus diverted. jeongguk’s thankful to direct his attention to something else, even if it’s macroeconomics.
he’s run out of answers to give namjoon, anyway.
✉︎
“hey, taehyung,” he hears from his left, name twisted and foreign sounding like she didn’t even try to get it right.
he diverts his attention from the lecture up front to the girl beside him, meeting her icy stare. she’s a cheerleader, he notes immediately, recognizing her sharp features. they’ve never exchanged so much as a greeting before and it peeves taehyung instantly. he’s been approached by a multitude of strangers with the same thinly concealed expression of distaste all day so far but he hasn’t gotten any better at turning them away.
“what,” he returns, tone hinting towards unkind. he’s learnt in the past five periods that ignoring them never works either.
she eyes him up and down for a moment. “how’d you get jeongguk to date you?”
his brow furrows. “excuse me?”
he’s heard a lot today. conversations usually range from introductions laced with faux interest before the “i didn’t know you were dating jeongguk!” to an excessive amount of questions about their so-called relationship. he hasn’t encountered this one before.
she sends a fake smile his way, envy dripping at the edges. “you don’t exactly seem like his type.”
he feels like he should be offended. it was probably what she was aiming for, he realizes when she frowns at his quiet huff of laughter.
“i’m sure you would know,” he dismisses, focusing back on his notes.
if taehyung had a dollar for every time he’s been stopped in the halls today, he’d have enough money to buy his own camera. he tries to brush it off, pretends to take a call sometimes, even tells the truth occasionally but he can tell no one believes him. it frustrates him, makes his skin itch with irritation.
he’s seen jeongguk in passing, locking eyes for only a split second before darting away at the flare of contempt buried in their depth. the other boy must be dealing with just as much if not more, taehyung recognizes with only a pinch of sympathy. people fall all over him in proper american obsession with athletes even without the drama.
it’s that sprinkle of unwarranted guilt and both their frustrations combined that keeps taehyung in his seat when jeongguk settles in the chair across from him at lunch. the harsh scrape of the metal legs on the tile interrupts the lecture jimin was receiving on what a practical joke actually consisted of, yoongi flinching at the noise and jimin startling into his two percent milk.
“jeongguk!” jimin says much too excitedly to pass as nonchalant, putting his carton down with so much force that some of it splashes onto the table. “what brings you here?”
the stare he levels at jimin then would make even the strongest of men run away, brows strong and pools of brown hardened in anger. he doesn’t even bother with a response, letting the silence speak for itself. jeongguk’s body is wound tight with tension, visible in the strain of his letterman jacket around his shoulders and the subtle way he flexes his fingers into a fist. jimin’s eyes flicker between his hand on the table and the slight downwards quirk of his lips, standing abruptly after a few charged seconds.
“understandable,” he exhales, voice a pitch higher than normal. “we’ll leave you two to it then.”
his fingers shake slightly when he picks up his lunch tray, nodding at yoongi to do the same. his other friend doesn’t seem as phased but follows jimin anyway with a roll of his tired eyes. taehyung almost laughs when jimin sends him a panicked look before shuffling away, a far cry from his attitude this morning, joking and laughing at the mess he caused.
jeongguk can be scary, he’ll admit, especially with the way his jaw tenses when he levels that same look onto taehyung. he would be intimidated, he would, but on his way here a freshman girl he’s never seen before told him that his hair looked like something her cat would cough up and that jeongguk should break up with him. he’s just as tired of this as he is and it’s only been six hours.
he crosses his arms over his chest and tries to look as comfortable in his own skin as jeongguk does, slouched just right in his chair without a hair out of place, tapping a steady rhythm onto the table despite the simmering irritation.
“how’s your day been?” jeongguk asks suddenly, voice too saccharine to be legitimate.
taehyung ignores the sarcasm and the feeling of eyes lingering on them. “just about as fantastic as yours, probably.”
jeongguk hums with exaggerated interest, still working his jaw in annoyance. his eyes narrow slightly, just staring, and taehyung stares back.
oddly enough, despite the onlookers, the cafeteria still thrums with energy around them, as much as it can at eleven thirty in the morning with cold pizza scattered on the tables. people talk, gossip, throw plastic utensils at one another. it’s always lively in september when the year is still young, football games to attend and classwork still light. it’s as happy as high school gets, if you’re into it. taehyung’s pretty into it. it’s fun, especially with jimin yelling at rival schools on the field in all his short glory. he wonders how different this year will be on the sidelines. usually full to the brim with the same youthful energy that surrounds him now, what’ll be different now that he has jeongguk’s unwanted attention for all the worst reasons, the kind that pins him to his chair with an unbreakable stare.
“anything you want to share?” jeongguk says then, when the silence stretches too thin.
he shrugs but doesn’t answer. he swears he sees jeongguk’s left eye twitch.
“sorry, let me be more specific,” he drawls, giving up his slouch to lean menacingly over the table. “want to share with me why we’re said to be dating when just a few weeks ago you threatened to shove a football up my ass?”
taehyung snorts. “what makes you think i have anything to do with it?”
jeongguk scoffs.
“has it occured to you,” taehyung says, leaning over the table as well, meeting jeongguk halfway. “that maybe i didn’t want to be harassed by your little fans?”
“oh fuck off, kim.” the fist is back, straining on the table. “who else could’ve done this?”
taehyung doesn’t like being accused, he doesn’t like warding off teenagers that are unusually interested in other people’s business, he doesn’t like this joke. but he promised jimin so he’s going to play nice.
“it wasn’t me, jeon,” he says, emphasizing every word. “a lot of people in the yearbook staff had access to it, it could’ve been anyone’s shitty idea of a joke.”
“i’m not laughing.”
“neither am i but don’t be a little bitch about it.” playing nice with jeon jeongguk wasn’t actual kindness, don’t misunderstand.
“kim, i’m not going along with this,” he says, looking woefully unsatisfied with taehyung’s explanation. “people won’t stop talking about it.”
taehyung rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “it’s not my fault people are obsessed with you!”
“it’s not mine either!”
“well learn to fucking deal with it, then,” he spits. he leans back on his chair with a sigh, trying to dispel the tension.
“look,” he tries when jeongguk’s features remain hardened and unforgiving. “it’s just a poll, it’ll be over in a week, and we probably won’t even win. just tell people to fuck off and call it a day yeah?”
jeongguk huffs, clearly still discontent, but relaxes slightly into his seat anyway. “it’s not that simple.”
“it’s a dumb joke, people will get over it,” taehyung insists. “you’re making it more complicated than it is.”
jeongguk’s face scrunches, affronted. “why should i have to deal with it when someone can just fix it?”
“because you’ll get someone in trouble over something that’s really not that serious,” he hisses, annoyed. “get off your pedestal.”
he drags a hand over his face with a sigh. “what the hell.”
“don’t be dramatic, jeon.”
“fine!” he assents reluctantly and still very aggravated. “you’re so irritating.”
despite the jab, taehyung feels accomplished, thinking some colorful words right back at him.
they sit there in silence for a few moments, pointedly ignoring any stares and each other. when the bell rings, taehyung lets out a relieved exhale, happy to be done with the most painful minutes of his life. jeongguk aggressively stands and swings his bag over his shoulder, flashing a less than kind smile his way. he leaves with an angry-sounding “see you at the game” thrown over his shoulder, leaving taehyung praying to the angels above that he doesn’t.
✉︎
taehyung spent his freshman year of high school cooped up in his room watching anime on friday nights and facetiming jimin for an in depth analysis of ‘the seven deadly sins’. curled around his laptop with his headphones in, blanket covering him from head to toe, his weekends bled into each other easily and evenly.
it was a tad lonely, sure, but he never understood american football or school spirit or the appeal of house parties. he was content with the indent on his bed and crunchyroll loaded up on his screen.
his sophomore year he was handed a canon t-7 and a sideline pass and shoved onto the turf, taught to direct his lens to follow the ball. taught to press to close to the viewfinder, relax his shoulders to avoid the ache, and stay behind the white line on the corners of the field to stay safe.
now it’s like clockwork. give the lady at the gate his name, attach the 70-200mm lens to his camera, prop his bag against the concrete tucked safe in a corner, and spend four hours surrounded by what he used to avoid. the student section roaring in commotion with every pass, play, and whistle. cheerleaders, trainers, band kids keeping the night alive with music and shouts. taehyung in the middle of it all with an eye peeled for anything and everything interesting.
he still doesn’t understand some of it. why jeon jeongguk actually does have the ball for practically half the game. why the game itself takes four hours. football in general he doesn’t understand. but it’s fun to feel connected to random strangers and yell as one, celebrate as one, curse at the other team as one. to dance to the band drumline’s beats and chant with the student section and run to the opposite side of the field with every quarter. after two years, two football seasons, two district championships, he’s come to enjoy it, cherishing the positive energy.
the energy, it crawls under your skin the moment you step foot inside the stadium, makes you restless and vibrant. taehyung’s shoulders may ache when he carries the heavy camera around his neck and his fingers may get numb when the night gets too chilly but he wouldn’t trade this for late anime nights. not anymore.
forgoing stupid polls and the multitude of strained greetings he’s received tonight, taehyung stays bouncing on his toes, turf crinkling under his shoes and finger occasionally pressing on his camera.
jimin stuffs his face with a hotdog, pointing excitedly at the field. “number 27!”
the sound of shutters going off in quick succession fills the air. the clicks stay one after the other as the player in question tucks the ball under his arm and sprints nearly fifty yards, diving into the end zone with a multitude of players on his heels only a whisper away from taking him down. the stadium erupts into cheers, air horns going off and the band immediately playing their celebratory piece.
jimin jumps in excitement, hollering and waving his arms hard enough to fling mustard onto yoongi’s cheek. the two of them lower their camera from their faces, yoongi to scowl and taehyung to check his shots. he checks through them quickly as streamers fall around them and he makes an excited noise when he finds a clear one.
“got it!” they take about 800 to 1000 pictures a night and a lot of them don’t come out how they want, too blurry or faces not captured quite right. a multitude of variables make the perfect picture from lighting to clarity to the emotion on a subject’s face, and they’re hard to get. a few gems in the pile of hundreds.
he shows his friends with a wide smile as the game picks up again, the moment in time right before number 27 lands the touchdown, frozen in air with his arms outstretched.
“nice, tae,” jimin says before taking another bite of his hotdog, eyes turning into crescents in a smile. “we can use that as the dominant!”
taehyung nods in affirmation, turning his attention back to the field right as the kicker scores them another point.
yoongi wipes his mustard stained finger on jimin’s shirt. “fuck you.”
“hey!” jimin protests, twisting around to avoid yoongi.
they start bickering on their way to the other side of the field, taehyung following them because he still doesn’t understand this game even after all this time. he hasn’t made any active effort to understand it either, is just content with keeping the focus of his lens on the brown ball no matter who’s holding it.
the players that aren’t on the field clump on the entire center area of the sidelines, the middle 60 yards, hence why the photographers are confined to the corners. the trainers flock around the sweaty players fresh out of the game, handing out water bottles and towels. jeon jeongguk is among them, stands out with the number 11 on his back that the entire school has come to know as synonymous with ‘star of the team’. he receives a bottle, tilting his head back to pour the contents into his mouth, sweat dripping down the column of his neck. his teammates collapse onto the metal bench, laughing amongst themselves and jeongguk is the last to join them. he remains standing to shake out his hair and scan the audience. when their eyes catch, he startles a little but hardens his expression quickly and raises a brow in question. taehyung doesn’t get flustered for getting caught staring. jeongguk is attractive, sue him. he keeps his face blank and only raises his camera, takes a single picture more as an excuse than anything, and walks away to join his friends.
they’re still bickering about the hot dog, the actual offender in question already long gone inside jimin’s digestive system.
“i want a hotdog now,” yoongi announces before punching jimin lightly in the arm. “buy me one.”
he squawks, affronted. “why should i buy it?”
“because you practically got half of yours on me.”
“you’re ridiculous,” jimin huffs, taking a few shots of the cheerleaders before pointing his lens at the trainers.
he whistles slowly. “wouldn’t mind buying him a hotdog.”
taehyung follows his gaze to kim namjoon refilling the bottles with ice water. “still pining?”
jimin huffs and lets the camera hang. “admiring from afar.”
“good,” yoongi snorts. “you’d scare the hell out of him.”
taehyung smacks yoongi’s arm. “don’t be mean. i think they’d be cute.”
“namjoon is like that cute mushy thing from big hero six and jimin is the type to run over cute mushy things with an eighteen-wheeler.”
“i would not!”
“you put your old stuffed animals down the garbage disposal to see what would happen.”
“opposites attract,” jimin dismisses, slinging an arm over taehyung’s shoulders. “enough about namjoon. can we please talk about tae’s man?”
he points his gaze to jeongguk lounging on the bench, talking loudly with his teammates over the noise of the night.
“can we please not?” taehyung insists, trying to weasel out of jimin’s oddly strong hold. “have you learned nothing from the book i gave you?”
jimin rolls his eyes. “‘jokes for dummies’ has nothing on my humor. my jokes are comedic excellence, you just can’t handle it.”
the other team manages to gain nearly 30 yards and their side comes alive with heckles.
“okay well if it weren’t for me, jeongguk would’ve reported your ass for your stupid joke,” he says before pointing his camera at the disappointed faces in the crowd.
“don’t act smug, jimin, you’re terrified of him,” yoongi backs him up. he laughs at the glare sent his way.
“taehyung will protect me.”
taehyung snorts. “no, i’ll be busy protecting myself.”
“jeongguk wouldn’t use his very large and very attractive biceps against you.” taehyung can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.
“um, no, i’m pretty sure i’m the first person he’d use said biceps on,” taehyung throws back. jimin’s shenanigans aside, jeon jeongguk still very much dislikes him.
jimin opens his mouth to object but is stopped by yoongi’s sudden cough. “might want to start protecting yourself jimin because he’s definitely walking over here.”
he quickly turns around to confirm, eyes widening by a fraction when he indeed finds jeon jeongguk stalking over, tossing a football between his hands.
“oh my god, yoongi!” he says loudly. “do you want a hotdog? let’s get you a hotdog, my treat!”
taehyung can only watch with an amused smile as jimin tightly grabs yoongi’s forearm and begins to drag him towards concessions. he sends a sheepish smile over his shoulder, already fishing his wallet out of his pocket and doesn’t look back again.
“coward!” taehyung calls after him, earning a very kind gesture from jimin’s left hand.
when he turns back around, jeongguk is standing next to him with his arms crossed, ball clutched in his hand and eyes closely following number 54 from the opposite team getting awfully close to the end zone. taehyung eyes him, from his drying hair and piercing eyes to the turf clinging to his cleats.
they’ve barely talked all week, not since monday. not that taehyung wanted to, he’s fairly certain he gained no brownie points for asking him to play along. people have kept talking to him unnecessarily, one guy even asking for pointers on how to ask jeongguk out. but it’s the end of the week, voting ends on monday, and then he’ll never have to exchange strange looks with jeon jeongguk ever again.
“what?” he asks when a good minute has passed.
it breaks his concentration from the game and he finally acknowledges him, seemingly remembering what he came over for. he shrugs and his eyes flicker down to taehyung’s midsection.
he nods at his stomach. “just seeing if you were okay.”
it is entirely and unfortunately reality that taehyung got knocked off his feet by the ball during the second quarter, the force of it hitting into his stomach making him fall on his ass. even if he managed to stay on his feet, the player colliding harshly on the turf would’ve wiped him out even harder. it hurt an impressive amount but the weight of the gasps and immediate attention on him made him scramble to his feet with burning cheeks. he didn’t expect jeongguk to bring it up, or care much at all, so the question shocks him. it brings up the dull, farway pain to the forefront, the surface of his skin throbbing where it’ll bruise.
he stares at jeongguk confused for a moment too long. when he doesn’t answer, jeongguk rolls his eyes.
“are you okay?” he says it slowly, as if taehyung didn’t understand him the first time.
he’s fine but jeongguk being interested in the answer is a little jarring. when he fails to respond a second time jeongguk snorts.
“i’m not here to perform surgery, kim, it’s just a question.”
he narrows his eyes. “why are you asking now? pretty sure i got KO’ed almost an hour ago.”
he gets levelled a deadpan look. “i was a little busy. or did you want me to stop the game for you?”
“whatever,” he grumbles, ignoring jeongguk’s sarcasm and pretends to pay attention to the game. “speaking of which, shouldn’t you be out there, you know, footballing.”
“we’re on defense,” jeongguk says, like it’s obvious (it probably is).
“okay,” taehyung says, not understanding.
jeongguk looks offended. “i’m the quarterback, i only play on offense.”
taehyung nods. “sure.”
“i’m sorry, how do you do your job again?” he asks, purely affronted. “when you clearly have no idea what’s going on?”
taehyung smiles and taps his viewfinder with his index finger. “i just follow the ball.”
jeongguk squints at him but says nothing, turns his attention back to the game but doesn’t leave. he stays there messing with the ball in his hands while taehyung goes back to taking pictures. it’s as peaceful as they’ll get, silent save for a couple questions taehyung aims at him in complete confusion, the ones jimin usually answers for him. jeongguk answers without any bite, only makes a few teasing remarks. it’s odd but taehyung’s kind of okay with it, it’s better than eating his lunch with too much tension to swallow.
it’s only when their team scores an interception does jeongguk get ushered away, cleats digging up turf in his haste to get back in the game.
jimin and yoongi finally join him, his best friend slightly pale in the face. but the rest of night goes without interruption, without stray jeongguks to distract. the team scores again and again and taehyung captures the glee and elation when the last quarter ends on a 65-46, another win under their belts.
and if taehyung gets an exceptionally good shot of their quarterback celebrating, then he’ll leave it to jimin to tease him for it on monday.
✉︎
jimin shakes his computer mouse gently to wake up the monitor, throwing his bag to the side and plopping down in his chair.
“write down the winners for me on a post-it so i can email the principal, okay?” his teacher yells from his office.
he makes a noise of affirmation before pulling up his google account in search of the form.
the last bell rang only a few minutes ago, signalling both the end of the day and the end of the voting period. taehyung nearly cried when he heard it and immediately dragged yoongi to ice cream to celebrate.
“fuck you and your shitty jokes, park jimin!” he hollered down the hall before jimin walked into the journalism room. “freedom!”
a little dramatic for his taste but he’ll grant the boy a pass. the universe is positively in love with jeon jeongguk and perhaps he didn’t take that into account when he fought against his own boredom last week. he practically signed taehyung for passive harassment at the hands of mildly obsessed teenagers but it’s over now, as taehyung would like to remind him.
he pulls up the results and gets to work, writing categories and winners on a notepad. from ‘worst driver’ to ‘most likely to run for president’, he writes them all down mostly with disinterest. he doesn’t know half of the nominees anyway.
it’s when he reaches the bottom, though, does he get a kick. jaw-dropping, eyebrows to hairline kind of kick. the kind of kick when you see that 68% of the voters chose jeon jeongguk and kim taehyung for ‘best couple’.
jimin lets out a startled laugh. he knows it was sort of his intention with all of this but he hadn’t expected it to actually work. he can only stare at the pie chart the computer generated, an overwhelming amount of purple, their designated color. one couple, a real couple, only got 10%. he hastily writes down their names, a little excitement with this one.
taehyung’s going to hate him, he thinks before happily handing the paper to his teacher, smiling wide. he can save his complaints for their couple photo shoot, he laughs, practically skipping out of the room.
✉︎
“um, so,” yoongi starts awkwardly, fiddling with his camera. “first off, congratulations!”
jeongguk’s body stays rigid still next to taehyung’s, jaw grinding in an effort to contain his irritation. they’re both silent, faces devoid of any humor and yoongi looks pained.
he clears his throat and puts on a weak smile. “so we, um, have to take a couple pictures. of you guys. together. for the book.”
his voice fades towards the end, eyes flickering between the two of them and the resolute distance of two feet between them. he makes a motion with both of his hands to get them to get closer to each other. they don’t.
yoongi looks to taehyung who’s as unforgiving as jeongguk, eyes hard where he stares back instead of answering. they haven’t vocally said anything in the past few minutes they’ve been here mostly because there aren’t any words to be said.
jeongguk physically cannot believe that they won. he doesn’t know what part of their obviously not real relationship garnered the votes they received, what part of their very apparent avoidance of each other appealed to the masses. it’s still over, he supposes. they’re done after these pictures but he still finds it hard to cozy up to kim taehyung considering the circumstances.
he feels for min yoongi, he does, with the way he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“i get that there’s been a, uh, misunderstanding, ” he tries. “but it’ll only take a few minutes, a couple poses. nothing too bad.”
jeongguk throws a glance at taehyung, sees that his arms are crossed and his muscles are tight with tension. at least they’re on the same page.
“you know, no one’s going to notice one picture missing,” taehyung finally says.
yoongi sends him a mild glare. “and you know we can’t do that, tae.”
“there’s like thirty superlative categories, i don’t think they’ll care.”
“we do!”
“we,” he says, pointing between him and jeongguk. “don’t.”
“that holds no significance to me,” yoongi says point blank, starting to get annoyed. “now stop talking and put your arm around him.”
jeongguk’s nose scrunches. “no thanks.”
“oh my god,” yoongi says, dragging his hands over his face.
“how about a quirky picture where we just stand a decent distance from each other and high five or something,” taehyung suggests maybe sarcastically, maybe not, jeongguk can’t tell.
“kim taehyung,” yoongi damn near hisses. “both of you, actually, get over it for five minutes. the sooner you stop acting like children, the faster you can go your separate ways.”
“i’ve barely said anything!” jeongguk protests.
he gets a threatening look immediately and jeongguk puts his hands up in surrender.
“can we please just take the picture.”
“how about a shot where we’re back to back like an early 2000s boyband?” taehyung says.
jeongguk snorts. yoongi looks angry.
“a handshake?”
“taehyung.”
“yoongi.”
jeongguk watches the exchange like a tennis match. whatever it takes, he supposes.
“put your arm around him.”
“no.”
“do it, tae.”
“can i get a ‘please’?”
yoongi huffs and jeongguk prays for the future of that camera, if the tight and unrelenting grip yoongi has on it is anything to go by.
“do it right fucking now or i’ll tell jeongguk all about how eighth grade taehyung would kill to be doing this right now.”
yoongi’s jab takes a moment to register in jeongguk’s brain. when it does though, his brows shoot straight up to his hairline and he marvels at the irony. this is news. he turns to look at taehyung, now getting red in the face from anger and maybe a little of something else.
“yoongi, what the fuck.”
jeongguk scoffs, surprised. “really, kim?”
“you don’t get to talk,” taehyung says and jeongguk laughs at the flustered tone and the way he can’t seem to make eye contact.
“maybe not but you should.” jeongguk can’t pinpoint why exactly this brings him a sliver of excitement. “want to tell me something?”
taehyung buries his face in his hands, embarrassment hidden save for the red tint of his ears. “it was four years ago!”
“elaborate, please,” jeongguk teases.
“he can elaborate after the pictures,” yoongi says humorlessly.
“no, he won’t!”
“he should,” jeongguk inputs.
taehyung glares at him, still flushed. “he won’t .”
yoongi, about three seconds away from quitting yearbook, looks at them expectantly before aggressively ushering them closer together. he ignores taehyung’s protests and grabs his arm, forcing him to wrap it around jeongguk’s broad shoulders. he then moves to maneuver jeongguk’s arm around taehyung’s waist with a surprising amount of strength. he manhandles them to the middle of the hall under a skylight for a clearer picture before finally backing away.
“now don’t move and fucking smile,” he huffs, adding a passive-aggressive ‘please’ as an afterthought.
jeongguk’s skin is only marginally less pink-tinted than taehyung’s, breaking a sweat at the discomfort. he yanks a little at his collar because this is weird and he’s not sure how he feels about it. he can feel every shift that taehyung makes, fingers flexing where they oddly fit on his shoulder.
“smile!” yoongi damn near yells.
they startle and try to oblige, a little wobbly on the edges and definitely too awkward to seem real.
“you look constipated,” he calls from behind the camera, face scrunched up as he looks through the viewfinder.
taehyung rolls his eyes. “we’re trying .”
“try harder!”
the following twenty-five minutes proceed in a similar fashion, various threatened attempts to appear like a couple with most of them failing. yoongi barks orders and the two of them try to comply. jeongguk’s skin burns every time their hands, arms, fingers brush. they give up on fighting it and just awkwardly maneuver around each other with every shot.
jeongguk feels a flicker of annoyance with every sound of the shutter, the flame only letting up when yoongi finally caps the lens and flashes them a smile that grates on his nerves.
“all done!”
they rip away from each other quicker than humanly possible. jeongguk makes a dash for his bag, no longer interested in taehyung’s alleged middle school crush. yoongi watches with amusement as they resolutely ignore each other and the flush on their skin as they move to get away.
yoongi swiftly grabs his own things before calmly walking away.
“congratulations!” he calls over his shoulder. “you’re no longer dating!”
they share a look, then, and jeongguk is very unsure of what it’s communicating but taehyung’s gone before he can say much else.
good riddance, he supposes. it’s over. he doesn’t have to talk to kim taehyung any time in the foreseeable future, he’s beyond okay with that. jeongguk quietly laughs to himself on his way back to practice.
“freedom” he likes to call it.
✉︎
or so he fucking thought.
here’s what happens the following monday that makes jeongguk re-evaluate certain sentiments:
the last warning bell for first period goes off right as hoseok and jeongguk slip past the doorway, nodding casually at their english teacher before settling in their seats, ignoring her warning look. their teacher had assigned them to sit across the room from each other on day one, seemingly done with their antics before they even started. they sit in the same spots now and make faces at each other, writing notes in korean and showing each other to communicate.
it’s there, in the middle of an uninterested class, the two of them laughing at the book they definitely haven’t read but definitely were supposed to with the morning announcements as background noise, does his ‘freedom’ come into question.
“it’s mid-september now, so you know what that means! it’s time to prepare for homecoming!”
no one in the room stirs at the announcement and the over-enthused speaker.
“event schedules will be released later in the week as we get ready for our october homecoming festivities!”
jeongguk snorts. he never really understood homecoming, not in the five years he’s been here. americans celebrate returning to school as if they don’t spend most of their time actively despising it. as a member of the football team, however, he’s forced to participate in it all. the parade, the pep rallies, the spirit days. hoseok and seokjin have dragged him to the dance every single year. and of course, the game.
he shrugs it off. he can handle a couple of weeks of an overly-excited and involved student body. it’s his last high school homecoming anyway.
“for our first piece of news for the season, we will be revealing the nominees for homecoming court! voted in by the student body.”
he then proceeds to waste more class time by listing off the names of all the students, from freshmen to juniors, that are running for homecoming duke and duchess. homecoming court, yet another entity jeongguk makes no effort to understand. he zones out the drawl and draws an exaggerated picture of their coach with horns to complain about their morning drills to hoseok. his friend snorts and bends over his desk to draw something on his homework in response.
“and now our nominees for homecoming king and queen!”
jeongguk watches hoseok laugh to himself as he scribbles on the sheet. while he waits, he balances a pencil on his philtrum, moving his mouth into a pout.
“and last but not least,” the announcer continues.
hoseok raises his paper, demonstrating his stick drawing of just how badly he dislikes their wide receiver. jeongguk attempts to reign in his amusement to keep the pencil balanced.
“our honorary nominees, granted a spot thanks to their win as senior superlative’s ‘best couple’, kim taehyung and jeon jeongguk!”
the pencil drops and makes a loud noise on his desk.
“congratulations to all our nominees!”
hoseok’s hand goes slack, paper fluttering to the ground. some people turn to look at him.
“we’re going to have a great homecoming this year!”
✉︎
“why wasn’t i informed?”
jimin circles a mistake in red pen.
“didn’t know,” he says around the pen cap held between his teeth.
taehyung gives him a bewildered look from across the table, draft spreads laid out in front of him devoid of any corrections. “bullshit.”
“didn’t know,” he says again, dropping the cap on the table.
“stop fucking lying, you knew.”
“i didn’t.” he looks up from the cheer spread and flashes him a smile. “but it’s great isn’t it?”
taehyung gives him a glare. “no, not really.”
“don’t be so negative,” jimin chides. “thought the air was clear between you two?”
“um, no? it isn’t?”
“looked like it in the pictures.”
taehyung flushes at the memory. “we were practically held at gunpoint, it proves nothing.”
jimin raises a brow, thumbing through the pages to bring a new one to the top.
“yoongi has a terrifying method of getting his way,” he adds with a roll of his eyes.
jimin hums but provides no further comment before resuming his work.
“jimin!” taehyung hisses. “i am not running for homecoming king with jeon jeongguk!”
he looks up again with a sigh. “i can’t do anything about it! it’s a new prize they added to the superlatives.”
“literally why.”
“because the kids that run for these stupid polls are the exact same ones that would run for something as trivial as homecoming court,” he deadpans. “they just made it easier for you.”
taehyung drops his head to the table with a frustrated noise.
“i don’t want to talk to him,” he mumbles.
jimin snorts. “clearly since you’re in here with me during lunch.”
“i help you all the time!”
“not with drafts!”
he huffs and switches gears because he does help with them, thank you very much. “i’m not doing it.”
“then don’t,” jimin rolls his eyes. “no one’s forcing you.”
he raises his head with newfound determination. “good because i’m not doing it.”
jimin grumbles under his breath about rookie staff members, slashing the paper in front of him with red marks.
“um,” he says, preoccupied with the misspelled photo credits. “maybe talk to jeongguk first.”
“why would i do that?” he finally picks up a pen and starts skimming a feature story on the president of the gardening club.
jimin shrugs. “i don’t know, just do it.”
“no, i don’t think i will.”
“you might change your mind.”
taehyung snorts. “yeah, sure.”
“i’m serious!”
“so am i,” he says.
jimin rolls his eyes but gives up anyway, knowing that taehyung won’t budge at his many attempts. he resorts to filling the silence with meaningless chatter about the new staff while hardcore judging their skills. taehyung sucks on his teeth as he corrects mistake after mistake on several mods.
“you’re coming after school, right?” jimin says with an edge of desperation. “to fix this?”
he waves the spreads in his hands.
“yeah, of course.”
“i won’t be here, i have a doctor’s appointment,” he warns. “you’re in charge.”
“tell yoongi that, would you? last time you left me in charge he took over and started yelling at the freshmen.”
“as he should,” jimin says under his breath.
taehyung laughs just as the bell rings. as they walk out of the room, he spots jeongguk at the end of the hall, laughing with one of his many broad-shouldered football friends. he slots a hand around jimin’s bicep and hauls him in the opposite direction as quickly as he can all the while jimin drags his feet and laughs loudly.
taehyung’s not doing it, he’s not running for homecoming king with jeon jeongguk of all people. he's going to drop out of the race and ignore him for the rest of his time in high school. that’s how it’s going to go, no exceptions.
✉︎
when his coaches call the end of practice, jeongguk trudges back to the building with his bag over his shoulder and head hanging. he practically drags his limbs to the door and inside, feeling bad at the traces of turf he leaves in the halls but too exhausted to find a different route.
the team they’re playing this friday is tough competition, one of the best in the county, and they can’t break their winning streak. the coaches are driving him up the walls with all the drills and extra practices but he knows it’s for good reason if they want to get to state. every day leaves him with sore muscles and skin sticky with sweat, and the whole team usually collapses in the locker room once they blow the last whistle of the evening.
jeongguk is prepared to go home, take a long shower, and do his homework like the good student he is but he stops in his tracks when he catches sight through the window looking into a classroom he’s never been in before, kim taehyung sitting at a computer despite the late hour. he’s slumped in his chair working on something alone with papers skewed on the table. he hesitates, body prepared to drive itself home but mind caught on the fact that they probably should talk. he sighs and doesn’t dare look at the time, knowing he’ll give up on taehyung’s probable attitude in the first ten seconds if he knew just how late it was.
he walks in, welcoming the cranked up air conditioning the room harbors. the sound of the door has taehyung jumping in his seat and quickly turning to look at the source.
when his eyes land on jeongguk, his brows furrow in confusion. “what are you doing here?”
jeongguk takes in the room, the rows and rows of computers, the large board divided into small squares and filled with numbers that he can't comprehend, the two large printers in the back. he drops his duffel on a table and makes his way across the room, eyeing the well-designed yearbook pages from previous years tacked to the walls.
“can’t i say hello, kim?”
“that would be extremely out of character for you so no, you can’t.”
jeongguk ignores him and settles into the chair next to taehyung’s, turning his attention to the computer screen where he seems to be sorting through pictures from last week’s pep rally.
he nods towards the pictures. “what are you doing?”
taehyung eyes him for a stretched out moment, clearly suspicious but eventually relaxing into his chair and looking back to his work. “rating some of my stuff from last week.”
he starts clicking through them with the arrow key. it’s too fast for jeongguk to look closely at each picture but taehyung seems to know what’s good and what’s not in the blink of an eye, not staying on a single frame for longer than two seconds.
the pep rally was organized to send them off to an important game and the shots vary from the cheerleaders to the drumline to the occasional school-spirited student. they’re nice, from what jeongguk can see, but that’s to be expected. taehyung’s known in every niche in school for being “the guy with the camera”. kids know to pose when he’s around and call his name if they want their face in the book because his pictures just speak for themselves.
he doesn’t know what to make of the fact that he finds himself genuinely intrigued at the quick flicker of images on the screen, taehyung’s fingers flying across the keyboard to rate the shots almost on autopilot. can’t exactly put his finger on why he feels slightly less hostile about the taehyung next to him than he usually would, if it’s something to do with how he’s never seen him so in his element before.
they’ve never been kind to each other or taken any interest in the other whatsoever but jeongguk still, for an indescribable reason, leans forward to place his forearms on his knees and focus his attention on the seconds of life encapsulated on the computer before him. when the stream of photos doesn't stop, jeongguk asks him how many pictures he takes. taehyung eyes him again, out of his peripheral, takes a moment or two before he answers. depends on the event, he says. six hundred for pep rallies, around eight hundred to a thousand for football games and other sport events.
“that’s a lot,” jeongguk says.
“a lot happens,” taehyung returns simply.
when taehyung opens a picture in photoshop and dilutes the yellow tint and brightens the colors, jeongguk asks him to explain how he edits. when taehyung does his best to explain cropping ratios and dodging the center of interest and cutouts, jeongguk actually listens and tries to follow.
“that’s kind of cool.”
“i guess,” he shrugs.
he switches programs then, to one with a pink icon that looks like microsoft paint on steroids. text boxes overlap each other in intricate designs, pictures are scattered around just right, and the occasional paragraph fills the white space.
“what’s that?”
“adobe’s indesign,” he says, cursor flying across the screen to fix a headline. “it’s how we make the yearbook pages.”
jeongguk nods even if taehyung isn’t looking at him and takes note of even the smallest things. how every element on the page fits so nicely among the rest, how taehyung gets miffed when trying to fix something that doesn’t look like it needs fixing, how he tries to scrutinize the designs like taehyung does as if he knew any better.
taehyung continues to zoom in and out on the same two pixels while making the most minimal changes to the placement of two text boxes. in the silence that follows taehyung telling the computer to go fuck itself, jeongguk looks around the room again and pins his sight on the board he saw earlier, made into a grid with black tape.
“what’s that?”
taehyung jerks away from where his face was nearly pressed up to the screen in concentration. he looks at where jeongguk is pointing and opens his mouth to answer but stops himself as his eyes narrow.
“why?”
he shrugs. “curious.”
“why?” he repeats, looking doubtful.
“why not?”
taehyung rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. “it’s the plan for the entire book. each square has the page numbers and the topic. why are you here again?”
“why are you so suspicious?”
“why wouldn’t i be?”
taehyung hadn’t really seemed all that annoyed in the few minutes that jeongguk’s been here but he’s starting to get that edge jeongguk knows all too well, words gaining bite and eyes calculating.
“i’m not here to fight you, kim,” jeongguk responds. “i just thought we should talk about certain things but you seem busy so i held off.”
in reality, taehyung seems swamped. he’s sporting some decent undereye circles and there’s an alarming amount of papers and sticky notes strewn around with reminders. from what he can see, taehyung definitely shouldn’t be doing all this work alone but he is and it’s late and jeongguk doubts he wants to talk about homecoming right now. besides, jeongguk actually enjoyed watching him go through the behind-the-scenes process of the yearbook that he knew so little about.
“is this about the nomination? because i don’t think there’s a lot to talk about, we’re not doing it.”
jeongguk frowns. “hmm no, i think some discussion should be had. “
taehyung looks at him like he’s insane. “are you serious?”
don’t tell anyone yet but jeongguk’s interest is slightly piqued by it. after the initial shock of hearing his and taehyung’s name over the intercom, he started to weigh the benefits and he’s not totally against it. he ideally wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary drama over who he’s taking to the dance (from his friends and otherwise) and he’d get to enjoy his last year in high school with a new set of experiences. but also, also (don’t tell anyone this bit either), he doesn’t find taehyung to be as completely abhorrent as he might’ve once thought. it would be fun. plus, he’s guaranteed a crown if the poll results are anything to go by.
jeongguk walks over to the table and picks up his bag before walking backwards toward the door.
“we should definitely talk about it.”
“no, what the hell are you saying?”
jeongguk’s lips quirk up a little as he ignores taehyung’s protests. “we’ll talk about it. have a good night!”
“jeongguk, what the fuck?”
taehyung calls after him to shut down whatever it is that jeongguk’s thinking but he dismisses it with a wave over his shoulder. “good luck with your work!”
the door shutting behind him cuts off taehyung’s confused noise. he backtracks only after a few seconds, poking his head back through the doorway.
“do you like frozen yogurt?” he asks.
it does nothing to fix the frazzled expression on taehyung’s face, frozen in a frown.
“um, yes?”
“okay cool, bye kim!”
they’ll talk about it.
✉︎
they end up talking about it. at nine pm jumping the fence into the school’s running track with a cold cup of froyo in their hands because jeongguk insisted it would be fine, they wouldn’t get in trouble. taehyung’s not sure how much he believes that but he follows him anyway, smacking away jeongguk’s helpful outstretched hand as he hikes a leg over the chainlink.
“i got it,” he grumbles, trying to balance his cup and his body simultaneously. jeongguk looks like he wants to disagree but he keeps his distance.
taehyung’s shoelace gets caught on the wire and he nearly falls to the ground head first but manages to save face at the last second, resolutely ignoring the muted snort jeongguk lets out.
how taehyung got here is puzzling even to himself. he has yet to ask how jeongguk acquired his number and has yet to process that the first thing he texted was a request for his address, not even mentioning that taehyung actually gave it to him. jeongguk hadn’t even said hello when taehyung had opened the door, just handed him a medium cup of menchies chocolate frozen yogurt with strawberries and fudge on top.
“you said you like froyo.”
“i did.”
“okay cool, follow me.”
there wasn’t a lot of conversation on the way here and there still isn’t any, just a lot of jeongguk expertly jumping hurdles left on the track and motioning for taehyung to give it a try. it’s highly unfair because he knows jeongguk does track on off-season and he’s most likely going to make a fool of himself but he decides to humor him anyway, dramatically giving himself a running start only to step over the hurdle one foot at a time.
“taehyung!” jeongguk protests, probably upset taehyung didn’t eat shit on the track. “c’mon, i bet you could do it.”
“yeah okay,” he responds sarcastically.
“no, honestly,” he says around the brownie chunks in his mouth. “just run a little and then-,” he picks his knees up as if he were marching and sends an affirmative nod.
taehyung highly doubts it’s that simple but he sets his cup down regardless, making a show of stretching his hamstrings. jeongguk flashes him a thumbs up when he positions himself and he’s not sure why he’s messing around with him and entertaining his antics in the first place but he goes for it anyway. he somehow makes it over, wholey unskillfully and landing harshly on his ankle but he allows himself a moment of triumph. he has to hop on his foot to alleviate some tension but they’re both laughing and jeongguk is clapping and it’s fun. it’s pretty fun.
against all expectations, it oddly enough doesn’t end there. they waste more time jumping hurdles and racing each other and daring the other to do random things with the giant tires the athletes train with. it’s physically taxing and taehyung’s clothes soon enough start to stick to his body with sweat but it’s more fun than he ever thought he’d have with jeon jeongguk. when the point of the night comes where he trips over the rim of the tire, foot catching on the rubber, all his usual reservations about jeongguk have faded to the back of his mind. there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest at the pure and unadulterated chaos of making a good time out of nothing and taehyung decides not to question it.
jeongguk laughs so hard he curls over himself, clutching at his stomach and wheezing. taehyung has the same hilarity clutching at his lungs and he struggles to get up.
they get down to business at nearly ten thirty sprawled across the metal bleachers. jeongguk has his butt on the ground and head leaned back on the bench as he tears his froyo cup into tiny pieces while taehyung lays across the bench below him, head pillowed on his arms.
“we should do it.”
“why?” the sky is far too polluted for them to see the stars but taehyung pretends that he can.
“it’ll be fun,” jeongguk says before throwing a torn piece of the paper cup at his face. it lands on his lips and taehyung splutters to get it off.
“it’s going to be like that poll but on steroids,” taehyung compares. “why would you want to do that?”
jeongguk shrugs. “it wasn’t that bad.”
taehyung physically cringes every time he remembers the photoshoot and the thought of that moment alone makes him deduce that jeongguk is lying. he gives him a pointed look.
“it was pretty bad.”
“it was not,” jeongguk scoffs. “don’t overcomplicate things, kim.”
“don’t use my words against me.” taehyung narrows his eyes, guards slightly up, and studies jeongguk’s expression. “why the sudden change in heart? last i checked you still hated me.”
“never hated you, you’re just annoying,” he supplies unhelpfully. “and i’m just taking advantage of a hidden opportunity. you know, when life gives you lemons and all that.”
“right,” taehyung says despite still having suspicions. “but what’s in it for me? you’re not exactly my favorite person to be around either.”
“you get to live out your middle school fantasies,” he teases with the most horrendous knowing smile. taehyung throws his spoon at him immediately, angry at the flush that creeps up his neck.
“you’re not doing a good job of convincing me, jeon,” taehyung hisses.
jeongguk laughs, dodging the plastic easily. “i don’t know, seems like a pretty good deal to me.”
“fuck you, i’m leaving.” he moves to stand up but jeongguk’s laughing again, tugging at the hem of his pant leg to prevent his escape.
“hey, no, don't go,” he says, sobering up slightly but smile not far behind. “c’mon, it’ll be fun.”
“so you’ve said,” taehyung huffs, crossing his arms.
jeongguk rolls his eyes, missing his usual heat. “listen. as dumb it is in general, it’s definitely not boring. besides, it’ll get the underclassmen off my back and i’ll get a badass crown for it. help me make the lemonade, kim.”
“let the lemons go.”
“kim, i’m not running alone.” jeongguk gives him a pleasing look. “please?”
taehyung stares at him, at his expression and wonders how genuine he is, evaluates if he has an ulterior motive but comes up blank. there’s truly no reason for taehyung to agree other than to help him and that’s not very high in his priorities. he stares and jeongguk looks back, question still lingering and not giving up.
running for homecoming with jeon jeongguk. sounds like a nightmare if he’s being honest.
he sighs.
jeongguk smiles, hopeful. “is that a yes?”
“i’ll think about it,” taehyung snaps. “don’t make me regret it.”
“sounds like a yes,” jeongguk declares, sounding triumphant. he sticks his hand out as if to shake taehyung’s. “nice doing business with you.”
“i despise you.”
“we’re going to be great friends!”
“i will rip your head off.”
“okay, truce,” jeongguk calls, forcibly grabbing taehyung’s hand to shake it since he won’t do it himself. “i hereby forgive you for failing me in freshman year biology.”
“oh fuck off.”
✉︎
the clock reads fifteen past four, there’s an uncomfortable silence in the room, and with every tick of the second-hand, someone turns to look at taehyung with lingering annoyance.
one of the girls, a choir student that never stops trying to do a whistle tone, sighs dramatically and makes a show of looking at her nails in boredom and impatience. taehyung’s eye twitches.
“mr. kim,” the teacher starts and taehyung immediately starts fiddling with his phone.
“i’ll text him again.”
two days ago, taehyung went from hating jeon jeongguk to about two steps away from being okay with him. but the scales are tipping dangerously right now because he’s fifteen minutes late to this stupid homecoming court meeting taehyung does not want to be at, much less be patronized at for the absence of his supposed partner. he sends another series of mildly angry texts that remain unopened.
“can we just start?” another nominee asks, clearly bothered.
the woman, a history teacher and senior sponsor in charge of all things homecoming, grimaces at the question. “all nominees are required to be here.”
everyone turns to look at taehyung again and he could honestly scream right now.
“he’ll be here soon?” he offers.
another nominee, a tennis player with very questionable style choices, scowls. “if he can’t get here on time then maybe he shouldn’t run.”
taehyung narrows his eyes at that and is dangerously close to saying something not very appropriate when the door opens and a sweaty jeongguk walks in with an apologetic expression. taehyung’s glare gets redirected towards him in an instant.
“sorry, sorry,” he huffs, quickly making his way to the chair next to taehyung’s. “coach wouldn’t let me go.”
everyone stays looking at him for too long and he blushes slightly under the attention. he sinks lower into his chair and mumbles another apology.
the lady sighs and begins talking about rules and regulations for nominees. she hands everybody a packet and makes them all read through the do’s and don'ts.
taehyung nudges him harshly with his elbow. “you’re the worst,” he whispers.
“i said i was sorry,” he hisses with a returning poke.
“i’m not doing this shit with you if you’re going to embarrass me like that.” taehyung’s elbow goes pretty deep into jeongguk’s ribs and he gets delivered a harsh smack to the shoulder in response.
“we’ve only been doing this for like two seconds, chill out.”
taehyung glares at him again and decides to not chill out, shoving him harshly with his shoulder. jeongguk looks up from his papers and returns the sentiment, digging his knuckles into taehyung’s thigh.
“you fucker,” he whispers. he has every intention to shove jeongguk out of his chair but the woman up front is levelling an exhausted look at them so he lets his limbs go slack with a slight scowl on his face.
jeongguk grumbles something indecipherable under his breath but taehyung tunes him out and finally pays attention to the ridiculous number of expectations the lady rattles off.
follow every aspect of the school handbook or you’ll be kicked out of the running. follow the dress code, academic dishonesty regulations, and behavioral conducts or you’ll be disqualified. display school spirit and reflect school values and basically, be the preppy asshole nobody likes.
she’s preaching about the school’s tenets when jeongguk audibly sighs. “i’m running for homecoming king, not president.”
he doesn’t say it very loudly but it’s enough for the tennis player to flash them such an ugly look that taehyung can’t help but stutter out a laugh, quickly concealed by a coughing fit. they share a look equal parts bewildered and entertained and they both have to find different ways to cover their amusement.
the rest of the meeting goes in a similar fashion. the lady continues her increasingly redundant statements of how they’re supposed to act and the two of them keep finding things to laugh about, be it the way she keeps emphasizing that their grades can’t slip below a B or how the rest of the nominees seem to be outstandingly annoyed with them. it’s a free-for-all once they're dismissed, dissolving into a fit in their chairs as the rest file out of the room.
“why is he so angry? ”
“you’d think his life is on the line.”
“when we win we should snap the crown in half like they did in mean girls just to see him pop a blood vessel.”
taehyung imagines his already pinkish face bloated in anger and the mental image alone sends him off again. when it fades off, they sit in an unprecedented comfortable silence that has taehyung’s head reeling. the lack of tension that seemed to dissipate over night and their apparent newfound ability to joke around with one another rather than hurling insults. the tide has changed rather quickly and if taehyung thinks too much about it, he’ll lose himself. he feels a petty grudge with himself to stay angry at the other boy for no apparent reason, just for old time’s sake.
“you still suck,” he grumbles, remembering how prickly his skin felt when all the attention in the room was on him but not finding any actual residual anger over it.
“yeah, yeah, i’ve heard it all,” he dismisses. he brushes off his shorts before standing and gives him an inquisitive look.
“froyo?” he offers and taehyung surprises himself by genuinely wanting to say yes.
“don’t you have to go back to practice?” he says instead.
jeongguk shrugs and starts heading towards the door, a little slowly as if waiting for taehyung to join him.
“you’re not a snitch, are you?”
he’s not so he stands and follows him out and to the menchies in the shopping strip five minutes from school, ten if you walk, where he lets jeongguk know that although he loves chocolate, red velvet is his favorite flavor. he pretends not to notice the weird feeling he gets when the other boy legitimately pockets the information like a keepsake.
✉︎
“okay but here’s what i don’t understand,” taehyung starts.
jeongguk swallows down more water before handing the bottle to a trainer scurrying past.
“what?”
he’s fresh off the field after the other team had scored an interception, settling on the bench while wiping away his sweat with his wrist. taehyung is beside him leaning a hip on the side of the backrest and fiddling with the lens of his camera.
“why do you always have the ball?”
“i definitely do not always have the ball.”
“you definitely do.”
“you’re hopeless.”
taehyung scoffs but looks away and brings the camera to his face. he points it at one of his coaches screaming at the field with his clipboard waving wildly in his hands.
“i’m not hopeless, i’m just curious,” he protests as the shutter goes off. “is no one else allowed to stand back there?”
“back where?”
“behind the line of players that stick their butts in the air before everyone starts running.”
“oh my god,” jeongguk exhales while dragging his hand over his face. he doesn’t think he’s ever known someone on the sidelines that was this clueless about the game. maybe in the student section among all the kids that yell and cheer when everyone else does. but on the turf a mere feet away from the action? unheard of.
“you stand back there with the other guy-“
“seokjin, he’s the running back.”
“-with seokjin and they always give you the ball.”
“that’s my job, ” he says. “they give me the ball so i can start the play.”
“what play?”
“whichever ones the coaches think i should use but i can change it if i need to.”
“what can you do?”
“well, i can hand it to seokjin so he can run with it or i can throw it for someone else to catch and run or i can run with it.” the rest of the offensive players are gathered together with their helmets in their laps, laughing loudly at some anecdote seokjin’s telling. he’d usually be with them as he waits for instructions from their coaches, not sitting feet away explaining to a photographer what exactly he’s taking photos of.
taehyung’s nose scrunches. “this game seems hard.”
jeongguk snorts. “tell me about it.”
the night is lively around them. the band always plays extra loud when they’re on defense to drown out the voices of the other team’s coaches and the entire audience always eats it up. jeongguk’s usually too preoccupied to pay much attention to what goes on outside of the game, much less bask in the excitement of the crowd. he only allows himself the pleasure when they win so sitting here now with his extraordinarily clueless running mate (friend?) definitely provides for an out of norm experience.
“what’s an interception?”
“when the other team gets a hold of the ball while on defense. they switch to offense then.”
“what’s a wide receiver?”
“they’re pass receivers.”
when taehyung looks like he needs more explanation, jeongguk simplifies it as if taehyung were a child. “they catch when i throw and run really fast.”
he makes an affirmative noise and jeongguk can’t help but laugh. “is this what your friend jimin has to deal with every time?”
“absolutely,” he says before redirecting his attention to his shots. he sifts through them and makes comments to himself about them that jeongguk only half-hears. he unconsciously starts to hum to the piece the band is playing, bopping his head slightly and making his hair bounce with it. the stadium lights reflect harshly on every possible surface and taehyung’s oddly shiny hair is no exception, producing a glowy halo effect around his head that jeongguk can’t look away from. there’s not much to look at really, just taehyung in his natural habitat with a camera in his hands but that’s seemingly enough to grasp his attention with an unforgiving strength. he stares long enough to memorize the length of his lashes and the exact curl of his lip when he approves of a shot, to have the image of his distaste when a picture is just shy of focused seared into the back of his eyelids. he only looks away, quickly and with heat creeping up his neck, when taehyung lets the camera hang and looks up
“what?” he asks, much to jeongguk’s horror.
“what do you mean?” he avoids eye contact and tries to dry cough the awkwardness away.
“you were looking at me,” he says, curiously and thankfully not accusatory.
“no, i wasn’t,” he mumbles, snatching a bottle from a trainer that walks by despite being hydrated enough.
taehyung eyes him as he swallows down more water than necessary, redirecting his attention to the game and pretending to approve when one of their linebackers takes down a player only moments after a pass. he hadn’t even fully witnessed the move but he furrows his brow and watches the field attentively as if he had. after a few moments of silence, taehyung just snorts.
“you’re weird.”
jeongguk takes slight offense, for no reason other than his own sudden flustered nature. “you’re weirder.”
“that word should not be in your vocabulary at eighteen years old.”
“but it is and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“i can buy you a dictionary.”
“what kind of middle school serve was that?”
“why are you acting so weird?” like before. like when he couldn’t bear to stand in the same room as him.
jeongguk thinks it’s rather early in this new period of being completely unsure of what taehyung is to him exactly for there to be a before and after but he’s going slightly rigid and getting slightly uncomfortable. granted this is new territory for him but he’s highly sure that staring for an inappropriate amount of time is not an item on the list of what’s acceptable and he’s unsure what to do with himself now that he’s checked it off anyway.
in conclusion, jeongguk is acting weird but he’s also feeling weird and taehyung doesn’t need to know that.
“why aren’t you taking pictures?”
taehyung raises a brow. “why are you deflecting?”
“why are you assuming i know what that means?” he does know what it means, if that has any value.
taehyung is progressively looking at him like he’s grown a second head so jeongguk’s not surprised when he detaches himself from the bench.
“okay, well i’m going to go back to my job,” he says, tone revealing his lingering confusion. “let me know when you want to stop acting like a five year old.”
taehyung stalks away to the trainer’s station to throw an arm around jimin and drag him back towards the corner of the field where the photographers are confined, leaving behind a flustered and overwhelmed namjoon. the noticeable blush rising on his cheeks when he turns to look at jeongguk gives him a temporary reprieve, gives him something to have a laugh about. his friend tries to brush it off with a shrug and a smile before turning to continue filling bottles with ice water and stocking on bandages but jeongguk can see the pinkish tint on his cheeks even from where he’s sitting so he makes a mental note to ask about it soon.
the reprieve doesn’t last very long though, nullified when the other side of the stadium erupts into cheers as theirs fall into grumbles and taunts. jeongguk is ushered into a huddle as their kicker somehow misses the post, coach giving directions before he sprints onto the field all in a matter of seconds.
it gets really weird then, when he’s neck deep into the game, in the sweat, in the concentration. it gets weird because jeongguk still feels weird, feels like he’s still talking to taehyung alone and they’re not insulting each other like they would’ve in a past not too long ago. like the blinding lights are kind of making him look like an angel and jeongguk is left kind of speechless. he knows it’s impossible but it feels like he can hear the shutter of the camera all the way from the forty yard line where he’s poised for action the moment he claps his hands. he knows it’s completely egotistical to think so but it feels like that abnormally large lens is perpetually and unmovingly pointed at him and his every move.
he makes a play, he passes, he runs. but in the back of his mind and somehow simultaneously in the forefront, the sides, and every corner, he feels that weird something making a home.
when they win and tuck another victory under their belt to take to playoffs, jeongguk makes sure to look to the corner of the field first.
✉︎
when october hits, the homecoming committee organizes the parade with one float among many dedicated to the nominees. it’s essentially just a car with a trailer on the back for the court to sit on and wave to the masses as they drive by. the decorations are subpar, basic balloons, streamers and banners that look like they belong at a children’s birthday party. jeongguk stands a respectable distance away from it in an attempt to disassociate and watches as taehyung eyes the balloons with distaste, swatting at them with a fist.
“this is going to be so embarassing,” he grumbles.
the parking lot where all the floats are parked and waiting is crowded with students socializing loudly and adding finishing touches to their floats. most clubs and organizations decorated them themselves and put a lot of effort into it, making them much more excited to participate in this then they are. he knows the football team is probably playing around on theirs by now, purely content to act like the celebrities they aren’t. hoseok and seokjin keep sending him snapchats of just how badly their trailer shakes when the whole team decides to jump on it and it looks various levels of dangerous but equal parts entertaining. he’d much rather be there and he’s sure taehyung would much rather be taking pictures of everything rather than be the subject but alas. he’s here instead, sipping jeongguk’s soda from sonic that he let him have. his friends had dropped him off with a warm bag of food in his hands and enough teasing remarks to last him a decade before zooming away to find the rest of the team. taehyung had looked so upset at having to be here that he gave away his sprite.
the increasingly cold weather is chilling his food rather quickly but he takes a bite out his mozzarella stick anyway. “it’s not too bad.”
taehyung steals the remaining half of the stick. “you’re delusional.”
“if you squint, it looks kind of cute,” he argues passively, digging around the bag for his last chicken tender.
“yeah, for a six-year-old,” he grumbles, offering jeongguk some barbecue sauce before taking more of his food. jeongguk scowls and tries to swat his hand away but he snatches an onion ring anyway.
the other nominees stand apart from them and pick at the float, talking amongst themselves and ignoring the two of them. it’s fine though because at the distance, they can poke fun at the tennis player’s dorky khakis freely and without direct confrontation.
“god, it looks like he owns a country club,” taehyung snickers.
“he probably does,” he says with only an ounce of bitterness.
taehyung does them both a favor and throws away their trash just as the homecoming committee head rushes up to them and starts ushering them onto the float. it’s slightly unstable and highly underwhelming once they're seated, contrasting with the excitement of the multitude of students around them herding onto their respective platforms.
they sit in their running pairs, slightly huddled due to the wind. jeongguk notices that taehyung only has the relatively thin layers of his sweatshirt to protect himself from the chill and his leg is bouncing a mile a minute to try to keep moving. he scoffs internally at first because of course he wouldn’t take care of himself. typical. he’ll get a cold, how unfortunate.
the longer he goes with his letterman snug around his shoulders and his hands nice and warm in his pockets, the more unreasonable guilt accumulates in his gut. they’re seated rather closely, the fabric of their jeans brushing with every shift in movement, and jeongguk feels every restless expression on his skin. the rubbing of his arms, the occasional puff of breath, the pull of his sleeves over his hands. he’s hyper aware of it, from lack of other things to focus on, jeongguk’s sure. reasons for fixation aside, jeongguk pretends not to notice and lets the chatter and noise from the now moving floats fill the silence between them.
when he swears he feels a shiver pass through taehyung’s body, he curses under his breath and moves to take his jacket off. he can be nice right? it’s all about being nice and kind and looking after other people regardless of whether it’s kim taehyung or not. besides, they’re friends now, right? they haven’t spoken about it but jeongguk thinks it’s safe to deduce.
the leather padded sleeves of his letterman are halfway down his arms when taehyung notices his movement, freezing in his seat and giving him a slightly panicked look.
“what are you doing?”
jeongguk stops too, a little confused at his tone. “you’re cold.”
wrong answer, apparently.
“jeon jeongguk, if you give me your jacket so help me god i will push you off this float,” he hisses, curling in on himself to block the other nominees view of them.
“what?” he says, slightly incredulous.
a blush is starting to make its way across the rise of his cheeks and jeongguk remains completely baffled as to why he’s getting flustered.
“put it back on right now,” he says and it’s almost demanding but the effect falls flat when taehyung can’t hold eye contact, breaking off as the flush deepens.
“why?” he asks, still in utter confusion. “it’s only like sixty degrees and you’re shivering, you clearly need it more than i do.”
taehyung shakes his head aggressively almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. he’s using his broad shoulders to hide his face that’s progressively getting redder with every second. jeongguk’s arms go slack with his jacket pooled at his elbows and just stares at the weird mix of anger and embarrassment that taehyung’s curled up form reads.
“what is wrong with you?” he whisper-yells even though he’s unsure why he has to be quiet.
“what is wrong with you ?” he throws back. “why would you give me your jacket? that-that’s something that a- my- nevermind.”
“what? what’s so wrong with it, you’re cold!” he exclaims. the stream of vehicles is making its way down the streets and nearing the crowd of parents and community members. the other court nominees are eyeing them weirdly as they prepare to wave and smile at people that most certainly don’t care about them.
taehyung sighs irritably and smooths a hand over his face but it doesn’t do much to lessen the pink in his complexion.
“it’s just weird, okay?” he mumbles, flashing him a short-lasting glare. “don’t make me say it.”
“taehyung, don’t be ridiculous,” he tries to dismiss but the realization hits him slowly and he begins to understand taehyung’s reaction as the feeling from last friday begins to resurface in his insides.
taehyung rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it hurts. “just please put it back on, i’m fine.”
jeongguk feels the need to rub his nape as he awkwardly slips the leather back over his shoulders. he coughs into his fist and looks away from the red on taehyung’s cheeks and toward the lines of people off the side of the road clapping along to the parade.
one of the nominees is nearly out of her seat in excitement, waving and smiling as if she were the queen of england. the first ten minutes of their time on the float alternates between being highly annoyed at her attitude and unusually unsure of what to say to taehyung, who spends the entire time awkwardly picking at his sweatshirt.
jeongguk counts how many times chills take over taehyung’s body before he forgoes any barriers he insists on keeping up. he’s aggressively tugging at his sleeves for the fifth time when jeongguk sighs and pulls his letterman off his body. without looking at taehyung, he drops the heavy jacket in his lap as nonchalantly as possible.
“just take it, your shivering is annoying,” he grumbles.
he doesn’t need to see his face to know it’s flaring up because he can feel the same flush creeping up his own neck.
“it has your name on it,” taehyung huffs under his breath but even in the chaotic atmosphere, jeongguk can feel and hear the shifts of him slipping it on regardless.
the weird feeling makes a very strong comeback when he catches taehyung’s slumped figure out of the corner of his eye despite his best attempts not to. red in the face and fidgety with padded sleeves drowning him slightly in the fabric. seeing the “jeon” in cursive script across taehyung’s back makes jeongguk fall into another coughing fit and look away quickly.
“are you okay?” taehyung asks, also trying to avoid eye contact.
“fine,” he manages. it comes out very strained and very indicative of his real response but taehyung doesn’t question him further, just looks very defeated in his seat instead of charismatic and social and like the miss universe they’re supposed to emulate.
the parade only goes around for a few more blocks before pulling back into the school parking lot. the moment their float comes to a stop, they both haul ass over the railing to get their feet back on the ground. it doesn’t get much better, though. it’s just as awkward on concrete and they stay an oddly specific three feet away from each other. jeongguk doesn’t really know what to say or do. go find his friends? say goodbye? ask him to froyo because they seem to bond over it? ask for his jacket back?
the last question gets unconsciously answered in a matter of seconds as he watches taehyung shove his hands in the pockets of his jacket, collar swaddling his frame. warmth covers the expanse of his chest at the sight for reasons unknown and definitely undissected but jeongguk leaves it be. taehyung is giving him a lost look, like he’s unsure of what to do too.
“do you want it back?” he asks quietly.
jeongguk shakes his head a little too quickly. “just give it back tomorrow.”
“okay.”
the moment is saved unexpectedly by park jimin who comes flying into their vicinity with a very jimin-esque chipper attitude, smile aimed at his best friend and turning his eyes into crescents.
“tae! you did great!” he plasters to taehyung’s side, giving him a hug despite the bulky camera hanging from jimin’s neck getting sandwiched between them.
“really?” he asks in disbelief.
“you looked like you wanted to get run over slowly by a pick-up truck but it was fine to me!” he says. “i got some great pictures of you two looking physically and emotionally constipated for the book.”
“sounds pretty on brand,” jeongguk mutters.
“seems like you two have a common theme,” jimin agrees before putting some space between him and taehyung. he notices the name embroidered on his jacket then and his face passes through a variety of expressions before settling on one that seems all too knowing.
“isn’t that jeo-,” he starts but taehyung acts almost as fast as the recurring blush appearing on his skin. he aggressively curls an arm around his shoulder, hand almost instantly rising to cover his mouth. he starts laughing a little unnaturally as he moves away from jeongguk and toward the school.
“see you tomorrow, jeonggukkie!”
he doesn’t let go of jimin until he’s a safe distance away and they immediately start play-fighting. even though jeongguk can’t hear them anymore, he knows it’s full of teasing jargon and he can’t fight the smile that appears on his face.
he tucks his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and he turns on his heel to go find his team with an inexplicable good (kind of weird) feeling settling in his bones.
jeonggukkie.
✉︎
“you asked him out?” taehyung shouts in near disbelief. “on a date?”
the smile on jimin’s face is incredibly radiant and he nods excitedly.
“and he said yes?” yoongi asks from where he’s sprawled on a beanbag on the floor of the yearbook room.
jimin’s face morphs into a scowl.
“ yes ,” he hisses. “he did. it’s this friday.”
“when did this happen?” taehyung demands to know, slightly offended that he wasn’t informed.
“when you were preoccupied fraternizing with ‘jeonggukkie’,” jimin says smugly.
“literally why did you turn this on me, i was trying to be happy for you,” taehyung responds with only an ounce of embarrassment.
yoongi chortles. “you’re both so hopeless.”
“me?” jimin asks, affronted. “i scored a date while taehyung is too busy pretending he still hates jeongguk.”
“i never hated him!” taehyung protests and it really isn’t helping his case.
a cackle comes from the lump of beanbag and human and jimin’s brows do a very knowing thing that taehyung hates.
“stop looking at me like that,” he scolds before deciding he’s above this conversation and faces his computer again. “yoongi get off your ass and do something useful.”
“you can’t tell me what to do!” he says, indignant and voice muffled.
“you’re setting a horrible example for the rookies,” jimin agrees. “the two sophomores in the corner have given up on the easiest spreads in the book to throw cheez-its at each other.”
“how is that my fault?” yoongi groans but he starts his slow ascent to standing status. “i finished mine yesterday!”
jimin rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and follows taehyung in returning to work. “then go yell at them for me.”
he gets up faster then, zooming to go scold every staff member caught slacking. they’re left in relative quiet with taehyung working on the volleyball spread and jimin sifting through taehyung’s pictures from last friday in search of the perfect last shot for the varsity football spread.
“i am happy for you though,” he murmurs. “you and namjoon are a good fit.”
“thank you, i sure hope so,” he says, any and all traces of teasing long gone. “i’m trying to have a date for homecoming.”
“i could’ve been your date!”
jimin hums thoughtfully, lips quirking up at the edges. “you’re accounted for.”
it’s almost scary how instantaneous the blush on his cheeks appear and he glares holes into the side of jimin’s head. “i can’t stand you.”
last wednesday, jeongguk gave taehyung his (really comfortable) letterman jacket because he’s horrible with cold temperatures and nearly got an aneurysm trying to deal with the fact. what’s worse is that jeongguk had let him leave with it and jimin had a field day. field week more like because it’s been exactly eight days since and he won’t stop mentioning it.
“i only speak the truth,” he says, chin tilting up with a weird sense of pride that taehyung doesn’t think he deserves.
“no, you don’t,” he responds rather petulantly and it only digs him into a deeper hole.
jimin looks surprised. “he hasn’t asked you?”
taehyung rolls his eyes and acts indifferent (pretends to). “why would he?”
his best friend looks genuinely confused that jeon jeongguk hasn’t, for obvious reasons, invited taehyung to go to the homecoming dance with him and taehyung can only try to dismiss the conversation again. and honestly, he doesn’t even care. taehyung does not care. they’re just running for court together, it doesn’t bind them in any way. he doesn’t care, why would he?
“i’m cutting this discussion off here before you say something else completely wrong and inappropriate,” he says as nonchalantly as possible while he micromanages the text boxes on his page. “please go back to complimenting my pictures, i like it when you do that.”
he’s not looking but he has an inkling that jimin is either rolling his eyes or looking very unimpressed with him. he can handle that as long as he doesn’t see it himself so he gets too close to his computer screen and pretends that the proximity confirms that everything is in place.
“volleyball spread is finished!” he announces.
jimin lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“you got good shots of the team,” he compliments and taehyung can’t tell if he means it. jimin’s brows scrunch slightly and he scrutinizes a particular shot of a defensive player tackling the other team’s quarterback. “this is really good actually.”
“thanks,” he says. “why are you so surprised?”
“how did you get so close?” he asks in genuine wonder. “they’re at the fifty yard line, there’s no way to get this angle from the corner of the field.”
he turns to look at taehyung then and honestly? he can’t avoid this one.
it’s a slight staring match, jimin with an assumption on the tip if his tongue that strays tragically too close to the truth and taehyung too ticked to just say it. it’s not that big of a deal, it really truly isn’t but jimin will make it a big deal. he made the jacket a huge deal despite taehyung’s insistence that it was nothing. he even made questionable remarks about the frozen yogurt. so what if they happen to enjoy it? it’s literally just dessert. right?
“jeongguk snuck me into the box,” he admits miserably.
“oh, come on !”
✉︎
the white stretch of the walls of the trainers office are so clinical it almost looks like a real hospital. evokes the same emotion too, nerves swirling in the pit of jeongguk’s stomach even though he’s only here to get his ankle wrapped. procedure by now.
it’s late afternoon, almost five, so he has to limp a significant distance before finding someone. he could recognize the tall figure perched on a cot and curled over his phone almost anywhere at this point.
“shouldn’t you be working?” he calls out to namjoon, teasingly and with a lightness he didn’t think was possible with the way his ankle throbs.
namjoon looks up, eyes startled wide. his shoulders set in with familiarity but his eyes narrow almost as soon as they relaxed. it’s a very pointed look, the way he takes in how jeongguk rests all his weight on one side of his body and leans onto the wall for extra support.
“is it the right one again?” he asks and jeongguk already feels scolded.
“maybe.” he’s hesitant to admit it because if anyone is going to call him out on his recklessness, it’s the guy who’s had to bandage the consequences time and time again.
“jeongguk,” namjoon sighs, starts looking for his materials despite how tired his name sounded in his mouth.
“i know, i know,” he says as he starts to settle on the cot. “but i swear i wasn’t going harder on myself than usual.”
“your ‘usual’ is already too much for your body,” he grumbles.
probing fingers turn his ankle only slightly but it’s enough to make jeongguk hiss in pain, muted when he shoves his fist between his teeth. namjoon doesn’t bother with extra concern and care, just goes into autopilot with the ointment and gauze and bandages and just the right amount of strength behind his actions to not cause more pain than necessary.
“it’s not sprained, right?” he asks, the thought lighting panic inside of him. the moment he has to see an actual physician for his injuries is when he gets benched and they're far too close to playoffs for that.
namjoon sighs, rolling up the leftover gauze. “twisted pretty bad. keep going and it will be.”
jeongguk sighs. “can i play this friday?”
“only if you go easy the rest of the week,” namjoon says in a hard tone that leaves no room for discussion. jeongguk always takes his word as scripture despite the almost nonexistent days of life between them, despite knowing all of his quirks off the field, all the good and bad. even as he feels the disappointment start mixing with the frustration, he knows his resolve doesn’t stand a chance against him.
“it’s only tuesday,” he whines half-heartedly, already trying to accept the fact.
“now that you say that,” he starts, coming to sit next to jeongguk on the cot. “benched for the rest of the week, morning and afternoon, if you want to play.”
jeongguk gapes. “namjoon!”
“do you want to be benched for the rest of the week or the rest of the season? choose wisely.”
“this sucks,” he pouts childishly, slumping into his body as he lets his legs swing. “i’m going to do so badly.”
“you’re a visual learner,” namjoon dismisses. “you’ll pick up anything you need just from watching at practices.”
“how do you even know that,” he tries to protest. it’s true, though, namjoon knows as much. the intricacies of the game has been ingrained in him since childhood, almost muscle memory at this point. sitting on the bench for a week straight won’t make or break his season but a perfectionist itch flares up at the thought of a week without routine, drills, skill-honing. the itch is only further irritated with the prospect of college scouts on the sidelines scrutinizing his every play.
“it’s obvious,” he shrugs. “you’re a natural player either way, a week off won’t kill you.”
it won’t and jeongguk doesn’t want to dwell too much on the festering stress it brings him anyway so he deflects.
“can we talk about you now?” jeongguk says only slightly teasing. “i want to talk about you. and park jimin.”
“oh god,” namjoon sighs and jeongguk can’t help but laugh.
“what? do you not like him because it really looked like you did.”
namjoon already looks embarrassed, fiddling with his hands and avoiding jeongguk’s eyes. “i do, it’s just a lot. he’s kind of overwhelming, but in a good way.”
“saw you guys at the game,” he comments. “seemed like a good pair, even if he does most of the talking.”
“how’d you know,” namjoon laughs.
“i have minimal experience.” truly, he’s only ever encountered taehyung’s seemingly erratic best friend a couple times but they were enough to gather that he’s the type to talk enough for every person in the room where silence lingers. sometimes namjoon likes the peace and quiet but he doubts a little loudness in his life is a bad thing. “i’m like 99% sure he’s the one that put me and taehyung on the ballot.”
“sounds like jimin.” the way he says it is already inexplicably fond, jeongguk can’t help but be endeared. “speaking of which-”
“nope,” jeongguk immediately answers, sliding off the cot and hopping on his good foot. “we’re not speaking of it but good try.”
“oh so you can ask me but i can’t ask you?” namjoon says, getting to his feet too and moving to follow jeongguk on his way out.
“we barely even talked about you!”
“we still did,” he says, cheeky and annoying. “at least give me a sentence.”
namjoon offers him an arm as he limps toward the door. since it’s him, jeongguk knows it’s less of a suggestion than a requirement for him to accept help when it’s offered so he grips his bicep lightly.
“i refuse to comment,” he says as dramatically as possible.
he refuses to believe there’s anything to comment on. just the usual them. playful banter, sometimes awkward, not at odds with each other, not for a while now. it’s been pretty good, pretty peaceful, leagues ahead of what he once thought their relationship was. but that’s nothing special or worth reporting, despite his friends obvious inclination toward something more.
“i don’t believe you,” he says, amused.
jeongguk rolls his eyes. “take it up with seokjin, he’s busy planning my wedding that i wasn’t made aware of.”
namjoon laughs loudly at that. seokjin is just that type of person. bold and unabashed with his theatrics and not afraid to shoot jeongguk down when he thinks he’s lying. and jeongguk wasn’t lying (he only kind of was) when he replied to his myriad of questions with variations of the same answer. ‘no’ and ‘nothing’ and ‘i think we’re sort of friends’. his friend had looked him up and down only once before nodding in the most self-assured way possible. “you’re in love with him and getting married to him as soon as possible, i’ll take care of it.” once seokjin starts something, be it a joke or a scheme or a ridiculous storyline he forces into reality, he runs with it and doesn’t stop so jeongguk wasn’t too concerned with cutting off the head of another one.
“can i be the best man?”
jeongguk tuts. “hoseok already claimed it, sorry.”
“i’ll be in the front row then,” namjoon says like he genuinely expects jeongguk to stand at the altar with kim taehyung.
jeongguk can take a joke. “looking forward to it.”
joke is a term being applied loosely and dangerously so.
✉︎
taehyung’s fourth period honors literature class is maybe the worst course he’s ever taken in high school possibly ever. the teacher has the most horrible droning voice, the workload is unbearable, and he has no friends in it to make fun of the old classic novels with. the slight plus side is that he’s seated in the back corner with little to no surveillance, tucked tight in the quiet in the room she never looks at so he can get away with netflix pulled up on his phone and airpods tucked in his ears.
he’s thirty minutes deep into an episode of extracurricular when the bell rings for lunch. he’s too engrossed to really care about bumping into others on his trek to the cafeteria so he makes a slow journey there with his neck bowed to focus on the screen. he thinks he’s somewhere between the math hall and the main office when he smells the generic bleu de chanel that jeongguk likes. he’s not sure what it says about him that he can smell the other boy before seeing or feeling him but it’s a done fact that he recognizes it immediately. the sweetness of it drowns his senses as soon as jeongguk is in his space, casual arm slinging around his neck. taehyung only diverts his attention for a brief moment, takes in his side profile for a second or two before returning his eyes to the screen without question.
he doesn’t say anything for the first few minutes, just matches taehyung’s snail-like pace and occasionally steers him away from potential run-ins with pillars. it sounds redundant even to taehyung’s own mind to say that it feels weird to not pull away from him, to put some space between their pressed up sides. it’s weird that he doesn’t feel like he has to because this almost feels standard even though he’s certain they’ve never touched this much before. he doesn’t mind the muscular arm around him, he doesn’t mind the tacky chanel cologne invading his nose, or the strands of his long hair tickling taehyung’s ear as he leans in slightly to try to read the subtitles appearing on his phone screen.
he hands jeongguk an airpod without looking up.
“what are you watching?” he asks as he accepts it, voice near a whisper for no concrete reason.
two characters start getting heated, hurling angry words at each other. taehyung gapes, completely and utterly invested.
“taehyung.” jeongguk pokes his ribs with his index finger. he flinches slightly, swats his hand away.
“a k-drama,” he mutters. “ extracurricular. it’s good. you should watch it.” he says it quickly, forgoing lengthy sentence structures to pay more attention to the fighting on screen.
jeongguk snorts. “thanks for the suggestion.”
taehyung makes a noncommital hum, doesn’t bother looking up or responding.
“hey so, next week is-,” jeongguk starts, doesn’t finish though because one of the characters gets angry enough to swing his fist back and taehyung gasps.
“holy shit!”
“tae-,” he tries again but he shushes him, smacking jeongguk’s chest with the back of his hand.
“did you see that,” he hisses even though he’s certain that jeongguk doesn’t care.
“no i didn’t but you can tell me about it later just-”
the episode ends on a dramatic black screen before the credits roll and taehyung makes an astonished noise, exiting the app to text yoongi immediately about it even as jeongguk jostles him for his attention.
“taehyung!” he whines, shaking him back and forth but it only serves to cause typos in his message.
“what,” he says with minimal interest. yoongi matches his excitement with every text and taehyung can’t help but keep the conversation going despite the fact that they’ll see each other in a few minutes.
jeongguk sighs irritably. “it’s about next week.”
“next week is next week, it’s still this week,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand.
“is there a way to bribe you?” he asks with a teasing edge.
“is it urgent?”
“not really.”
taehyung finally looks up to flash him a cheeky smile. “then no.”
his smile drops as soon as it appears when he finally notices the weird lilt to jeongguk’s walk now that he has taehyung’s full attention. “are you limping? why are you limping? are you okay?”
jeongguk had his mouth open ready to retort but he blanches at the change of topic. “huh?”
taehyung looks down as if he could see his injury through his pant leg. “what happened? did you get hurt?”
startled, jeongguk looks down too. “what? no, i’m fine.”
“you don’t look fine, you’re limping,” taehyung frowns. he left yoongi’s message on read, suddenly preoccupied with more pressing things.
“twisted my ankle at practice yesterday,” he says. “no big deal.”
taehyung’s frown deepens and looks him up and down, trying to assess the damage. “but-”
“i’m fine, i swear,” he reassures. there’s a delicate smile playing on his lips and taehyung doesn’t understand why, he’s hurt. “namjoon has benched me for the rest of the week so i’ll be okay.”
“you don’t like the bench,” he mumbles and he’s concerned (almost instinctively and that’s weird but he’s used to weird by now) but jeongguk has this soft look about his eyes and it settles something heavy in taehyung’s gut, makes it lighter.
“i don’t but the bench at practice is better than the bench at a game.”
taehyung looks forward again, grumbling slightly under his breath because he’s still worried but jeongguk just pulls him a little closer. “speaking of which, meet me after my practice tomorrow to plan for next week.”
“okay,” he agrees without much fight. he doesn’t bother asking why because he knows it’s most likely going to be over menchies and taehyung is highly okay with that regardless of the conversation.
“nice.” he can hear the smile in his voice. is it weird that he can hear a smile? “now tell me about your life changing drama ‘cus i might just watch it.”
it is kind of weird but a lot about them is.
✉︎
jeongguk learnt how to play football when he was five years old on the beaches of busan because the fall hurt a little less on the sand. it might’ve started a little before then when his korean-american father would make a holiday out of the super bowl and jeongguk would sit on the carpet in front of the tv with wide-eyed wonder.
his dad taught him how to play the game, how to think the right way, how to dominate the field. his dad trained him to be the best. best player, best teammate, best leader but also best follower because you work hard for that top spot but there’s a line you have to stay behind to avoid becoming the arrogant bastard no one can play with. he taught him to be a rule-follower no matter how dirty your opponent plays. somewhere between point a and point b, between feeling out of place in cleats and knowing every play inside out, perfectionism became second nature.
go big or go home. go big and do it right. do it right or don’t do it at all. the pressure comes from himself, the expectations do too. he trains morning and afternoon from beginning to end as well as he can, leaves the fooling around for after. the day he skipped practice to hang out with taehyung was almost completely compensated at the gym that night. he leaves the field every day with dragging limbs. that’s just the way he is.
and maybe, for once, it’s not such a good thing when he’s being scolded like a child for putting stress on his injury during thursday practice. he’d been too impatient, too restless to just sit there under doctor’s orders, just had to try his hand at a couple drills. he meant well, truly. taehyung was more than right when he said jeongguk hated the bench. he does. it doesn’t matter how many years he’s been playing, he has to train, has to prepare. needs that confirmation that he knows what he’s doing, that he’ll do well on the field when it matters. realistically, he knows he won’t forget overnight but he needs the itch sated regardless.
but internal satisfaction won’t do him much good when he can barely walk across the field. he knows this. his coach makes sure he knows this, voice ringing in the empty locker room and echoing harshly against the cold walls. every yell is pointed and hollow and makes jeongguk flinch.
they get closer to the district championships with every game. every friday night is more important than the last. they can’t afford to bench the quarterback. jeongguk knows this and it only makes shame curl in his gut when his coach repeats it to him, a little red in the face and knuckles white where they grip a clipboard.
he’s breathing heavy when he all but spits the last word of his lecture and jeongguk can’t even look up, finding interest in his shoes. namjoon had wrapped his ankle again with thinly veiled disappointment, a bag of ice cling wrapped over the gauze. he focuses on the droplets of condensation rather than the tangible tension in the room, in jeongguk’s shoulders. he’s not going to cry but there’s a pressure behind his eyes, identical knot in his throat and he has to push both away.
“do you understand, jeongguk?”
jeongguk nods immediately, opens his mouth to verbalize it when the door hinges squeak obnoxiously. they both whip their heads to the sound, startled, even more surprised to see taehyung looking sheepish at the entrance of the locker room. he looks objectively adorable in a large sweater that swallows his frame and the relief jeongguk feels is incredible.
“sorry! i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt.” he looks embarrassed, hesitant as he remains frozen halfway through the doorway and his hand stuck on the handle. “you just- jeongguk asked me to, uh,” he trails off and looks very caught-in-the-headlights at the tension he barged into.
his coach doesn’t give him the time of day. “do you understand?”
each word is emphasized and jeongguk quickly looks away from taehyung to face the impatient tone. he nods again. “yes sir.”
his coach turns on his heel then and walks back to his office without another word. jeongguk exhales all the shame in one go, tries to replace it with a smile when he turns back to taehyung, still unsure what to do with himself in the doorway.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly. his eyes flick to the ice on his ankle to the direction his coach passively stormed off to jeongguk’s face. there’s genuine concern lining his face and it makes jeongguk have to try less for his smile to be real, to reach his eyes.
he picks up his duffel bag and heads out, grabbing taehyung’s wrist on his way and pulls him along. he halfheartedly tries to stay put, digs his heels in the ground, reluctant to move until jeongguk answers. he’s stronger so taehyung has to link his fingers around jeongguk’s wrist and try to keep him in place.
“what’s wrong? why was he yelling at you?” the worst thing happens then. jeongguk notices that when he frowns, when his brows arch downwards, his lips just naturally form a slight pout and it makes jeongguk’s insides scream. it’s such a tiny detail but his chest aches with the revelation and jeongguk starts to think something might be wrong with him.
“it’s fine, i’m fine,” he says and it’s really hard not to notice how soft his skin is under jeongguk’s fingertips.
“are you sure?” he looks so worried. has he ever been this concerned about jeongguk’s wellbeing? they’ve been going through a lot of firsts recently, this just might be another one. “is he even allowed to yell at you?”
jeongguk snorts at that. “he yells at us every day, i wouldn’t worry about it.”
somehow, the frown deepens and his eyes get this very puppy dog quality that jeongguk is seemingly too weak to handle. “and your ankle? did you hurt it again? i thought you were benched?”
jeongguk shakes his head dismissively. “just me being stupid, it’ll be fine.”
taehyung looks like he wants to challenge that, that pinch in his expression still there but jeongguk uses that upper hand to pull hard enough for taehyung to take the first step, pulling gentler once he knows he’ll follow.
“c’mon i want to get froyo.” jeongguk wonders what’s considered weird between them now. if the alarming frequency of which they consume frozen yogurt together is actually questionable. if the fact that it’s been a long time since he’s seen taehyung and felt anything other than happy is anything to be concerned about. is it weird that jeongguk’s hand slides from taehyung’s wrist to his fingers and neither of them pull away like they’ve been burned, like they would’ve a few weeks ago?
he can feel taehyung’s eyes boring into his face and even if he feels hot everywhere, he ignores it, just tugs and hopes he follows.
“we had some yesterday,” he mumbles instead of the million other things he could ask.
jeongguk shrugs, smiles, tugs again. taehyung stares, follows hesitantly, doesn’t pull away.
“hasn’t stopped us before.” he tries to keep the nerves out of his voice. maybe he fails. is that weird? it’s starting to get redundant, that question. “i want to try the raspberry this time.”
taehyung sort of looks like he wants to keep asking jeongguk for clarification, more ‘are you okay’s but knows what the answers will be so he saves his breath. jeongguk sort of wants to ask him what lotion he uses to make his hands so soft. his own are covered in calluses from years and years of catching and throwing. the roughness makes holding taehyung’s hand nice, among other reasons. why is this the first time they’ve held hands? some of these firsts should’ve happened sooner.
taehyung matches his pace, eventually, until jeongguk isn’t dragging him along anymore. neither of them comment on how jeongguk maneuvers their hands until their fingers are fitting just right. or on the pink undertone of both of their face. he doesn’t think it’s necessary to.
jeongguk hopes it’s not weird that he holds taehyung’s hand all the way there. that he doesn’t let go until they’re reaching for their paper cups and contemplating flavors.
when they’re sitting on the curb with their froyo cups in hand, jeongguk sneaks his spoon into taehyung's to try the cake batter flavor. that’s not as weird, they share all the time. “we should match next week. for the dress-up days.” he returns his spoon to his own cup and starts fiddling with the cling wrap around his ankle now that the ice has melted.
“aren’t dress-up days kind of corny?” taehyung takes interest in the mochi jeongguk put on top of his cup, stealing a couple for his own.
they’re sitting super close. their shoulders brush more often than not. “yeah but it’ll be cute if we match.”
truthfully, spirit days are the corniest days in the book. they serve no real purpose and most outfits are just obnoxious but people are suckers for couple’s matching. it wouldn’t hurt to campaign just a little in their last week before homecoming.
“i guess so,” he agrees, taking his cherry by the stem and popping it in his mouth.
“besides, it’s in the homecoming court manifesto to be corny.”
taehyung snorts, nods, and gives jeongguk his other cherry.
“we’ll be the kings of corny then,” taehyung says easily. “what’s our plan for monday?”
✉︎
something’s wrong with jeongguk.
taehyung can tell immediately even from yards away.
they lost the coin flip at the start of the game so he’s been pacing for the past few minutes, routinely stretching his ankle and seemingly shaking off the nerves. taehyung had kept his distance during pregame because even if they’ve progressed past the point they were once at, he’s unsure of what comfort his presence would bring in a stressful situation. he wanted to approach him, make sure he was okay even if the answer was obvious but his desire to not overstep easily won over all others. he carried on with his business too distracted to care much about the shutter, kept stealing glances at an overly focused jeongguk with a permanent downturn of his brows.
when the other team scored and the offensive players were ushered into the scene, taehyung kept his eyes on number 11 almost religiously. and he by no means understands this game as well as he probably should to judge a player’s state but the moment the ball is in jeongguk’s hands for the first time that night, taehyung feels how off he is instantly. he can’t tell what exactly the problem is but it’s in the way jeongguk runs, throws the ball, tackles players. he stumbles a couple times, hesitates before making a play, drops the ball once. taehyung doesn’t know how he can notice but it probably has to do with how his 70-200 mm lens is constantly following number 11 sometimes without thinking. probably picked up on how jeongguk plays on accident. on purpose if he’s being honest.
it’s not even his fucked up ankle. it’s his head. taehyung knows. he tried to know more yesterday in the locker room but jeongguk wouldn’t let him, brushed him off unfairly after what taehyung had walked into. he can’t pinpoint when exactly he started to care so much but the sight of jeongguk curling in on himself with his head bowed as that very angry man probably made him feel like shit made hurt bloom in taehyung’s own chest. he wanted to know (still wants to know) what made jeongguk so upset, frustrated enough to screw up his ankle all over again, careless enough to risk getting scolded. but then. then. jeongguk started holding his hand. not just his wrist, not just briefly, but actually thread their fingers together and hold it as they walked. and maybe it effectively distracted him from pressuring further.
he’s feeling the consequences now. the uncertainty just occupies the forefront of his mind, curiosity mixed with concern with a dash of something unidentifiable that makes his heart lurch when jeongguk trips over turf and the ball goes flying out of his hands. he stops caring about the camera completely in the second quarter, gives up on the shots and only uses the viewfinder to look closer when there are too many yards between them. they’ve finished the varsity football spread anyway. he was supposed to focus on the crowd for student life shots, some cheerleaders too but taehyung doesn’t really care.
when jeongguk’s off the field, he paces or sits on the bench with his head hanging, doesn’t utter a word to anyone that isn’t his coaches. taehyung itches to do something from the sidelines. doesn’t because he’s unsure how to.
he thinks jeongguk loses his composure right before halftime when a defensive player from the other team intercepts the ball on a long throw and weasels through forty yards of offensive players into the endzone. he damn near rips his helmet off, retreats in the direction of the locker rooms quicker than anyone else. taehyung lingers as the band files onto the field for the halftime show, caught between doing his job and going after him. he’s only taken about 200 pictures despite the game being half done but taehyung finds that he doesn’t care.
in a split moment decision, taehyung packs his camera away and leaves it on the sidelines under jimin’s care before stalking towards the locker rooms, concern getting the best of him. he’s never been to the stadium’s locker room nor does he really know where it is but he starts an aimless search for it regardless.
his heartbeat picks up as he wanders the whole facility and it has everything to do with how he can feel the time slipping between his fingers without spotting his familiar figure. he can hear the band going through several acts of their marching season piece and his gut wrenches of the thought of seeing jeongguk like that for another two hours.
the locker rooms, he finds, are in a separate building that looks a little too much like a public restroom. his nose wrinkles in distaste as he contemplates walking in or calling jeongguk or anything else so he doesn’t have to push open the door. he fiddles with his hands and does this weird back and forth swaying, a physical manifestation of his indecisiveness.
he's halfway through psyching himself up to enter (“for jeongguk. it’s for jeongguk”) when the sound of gravel crunching on cement reaches him, like someone is grinding their foot into the floor. thankful for the distraction, he starts to circle the building with his pulse skyrocketing.
jeongguk is sitting on the concrete, back leaning against the brick wall of the building. the enormous stadium lights don’t reach back here and it leaves them blanketed in shadows. like this, with his head hanging and foot halfheartedly kicking pebbles, jeongguk doesn’t look like jeongguk. no fierce determination, no wide smile that makes his nose scrunch, just dejected silence. it makes taehyung’s heart plummet into his stomach.
he takes tentative steps toward him, makes sure to disturb the gravel so he doesn’t startle him. jeongguk looks up at the noise and their eyes catch, taehyung trying and probably failing to keep the worry out of them and jeongguk’s red rimmed. his face doesn’t change much, just goes from blank to recognition back to empty and taehyung tries not to question too much whether he’s making things worse. mindful not to get too close, taehyung lowers himself to the ground. jeongguk doesn’t provide much of a reaction, head turning back to stare at his lap.
taehyung doesn’t know what to say. he has too many questions and too many concerns and too little time to ask them all.
when neither of them say anything, taehyung gets paranoid. “do you want me to leave?” he whispers it, too afraid to disturb jeongguk’s quiet.
he lifts his head and he’s not exactly crying but he looks so distraught, it keeps doing things to taehyung’s heart. “no, it’s okay.” he whispers it too even though it’s just them.
taehyung frowns. how is he going to help jeongguk when he can’t find the words? how is taehyung going to be of any comfort when they’ve only been friends for a few weeks? how is he going to help when jeongguk won’t tell him what’s wrong? does jeongguk even want him to know? he probably doesn’t. just over a month ago he could barely stand posing with him for a picture like a normal person, why would he share his personal struggles with him? taehyung should leave, he doesn’t know what he was thinking.
“are you sure? maybe i should go.” jeongguk probably needed alone time right? taehyung places his palms on the rough floor to push himself up but jeongguk grabs his wrist quickly.
“no! stay,” he says, not whispering anymore but still quiet. his voice sounds rough, hoarse probably from disuse all night.
taehyung loses the tension in his shoulder and tries to study his face, the downturn of his brows and mouth and how intently jeongguk looks at him.
“but-,” he tries.
“please?”
any remaining fight just evaporates in that moment, taehyung slumping against the wall and inching closer involuntarily. he lets jeongguk intertwine their fingers, not unlike the first time with his hand sliding down from his wrist and taehyung’s heart gets thrown around for the thousandth time that night. it goes a mile a minute when his thumb brushes the back of his hand and stops altogether when he tries for a smile.
“sorry,” he says softly. “i just feel kind of sucky.”
and taehyung doesn’t know why, really wants to know why, but he nods quickly in understanding anyway.
“you don’t have to apologize for anything,” he assures. “i just don’t know the right thing to say.”
jeongguk shrugs, tries another smile. “that’s fine, you don’t have to.”
taehyung doesn’t know what to say to that (go figure), finds it a little jarring that jeongguk only needs his presence. he stares at their joined hands and jeongguk kicks at the turf clinging to his cleats, only the faraway sounds of the other school’s band powering through their halftime acts.
“are you okay?” his voice has lowered back to a whisper.
he meets his eye and shrugs. “not particularly.”
taehyung pouts. it’s almost a knee jerk reaction to get upset at jeongguk being upset. jeongguk smiles a little brighter.
“my ankle is making it hard to play,” he says and taehyung knows there’s more to it. he’s seen it, been witness to it for the past two hours.
he must see the silent question in his expression because he looks away and he fiddles with the bars on his helmet.
“there’s a scout from UCLA on the sidelines.” he laughs a little bitterly. “and USC. and Stanford. and San Diego State, i’m pretty sure.”
“that’s a lot,” taehyung says and cringes internally as soon as he does.
jeongguk doesn’t mind, just snorts. “yeah and i’ve been fucking up every second on the field.”
taehyung frowns and starts shaking his head. “no you haven’t-“
“you know,” he interrupts. “every guy on the team going into NCAA has been committed to a school since junior year except me. i’ve gotten offers from some but i couldn’t bring myself to accept them because the ones i really want are talking to my coaches right now probably asking why the quarterback sucks so much.”
“jeongguk,” taehyung says almost desperately because he’s so hard on himself and taehyung can’t handle it. he tugs on his hand until jeongguk meets his eye again. “how could you possibly compare yourself to them? you’re the best player on the team, it makes sense for you to want more.”
“i’m not the best. i’m far from it. the best player doesn’t do the shit that i’ve been doing out there.”
he’s so incredibly wrong that taehyung’s dizzy with it. “you’re kidding right? you’re joking, this is a joke.”
jeongguk scrunches his brows. “what-“
“you’re easily the best player this school has see in years, guk, don’t even say things like that.”
“taehyung you don’t know anything about football,” jeongguk scoffs. “you know i think you’re great but your opinion on this is not the most reliable.”
taehyung flushes slightly, from embarrassment and maybe something else. “i don’t need to! i’ve seen you play and i’ve heard what people say about you. i don’t need a phD in jock to know that you’re the best.”
jeongguk looks at him slightly incredulous and a smile starts at the corners of his mouth. “that’s a dangerous mentality for me to have.”
his smile brings taehyung a little more confidence, a little more boldness. he reaches out to brush some strands of jeongguk’s dark hair behind his ear and out of his face, feels something stir in his stomach when he does. “maybe but you can’t put yourself down, guk. you can’t base your ability off this one game, it’s not fair.”
“taehyung-,” he starts to say, matching red on his cheeks but taehyung doesn’t let him finish. he’s determined to do what he set out to before jeongguk has to step out on the field again.
“no one deserves to succeed more than you do,” he says more sincerely than maybe any other words he’s uttered that night. “you’ll get another chance to show them.”
it should gross taehyung out to touch the sweat still clinging to jeongguk’s hair but he just feels inexplicably fond pushing back the strands covering his eyes and maybe he sees that softness mirrored in them. he nods. “at the first playoff game. the week after next, they’ll be there.”
taehyung smiles in a way that he hopes is comforting. “they’re going to be fighting over you, i know it.”
jeongguk smiles then. the toothy, nose scrunch kind of smile and as a cliche as it sounds, taehyung’s heart skips a beat. to think that taehyung put it there, bright and radiant makes it all the more special.
“tae-”
“jeon!” the brashness of his coach’s voice makes taehyung flinch, dropping his hand from jeongguk’s (unfairly) soft hair. his heart takes another hit when he lets go of taehyung’s to scramble to his feet with his helmet in tow.
“i have to get back,” he says almost regrettably.
taehyung nods quickly, standing up to follow. “good luck.” he doesn’t need it but hopefully it can settle the anxiety rooted in jeongguk’s mind.
he smiles again and turns to leave in the direction of his coach’s shout. taehyung watches him jog away for a few feet before he stops, turns around like he’s forgotten something, stops only half a foot away from taehyung. without a moment’s hesitation, he swoops in and plants a small lingering kiss on taehyung’s cheek.
“thank you,” he whispers. and then he leaves.
taehyung’s feet stay rooted in the ground and it’s lights outs inside his head, shutting down every other sensory experience except that. the feeling of jeon jeongguk’s (very unfairly) soft lips on his skin. which is on fire. his heart is bruised and beaten at this point but this time it’s welcomed when it stops in his chest before running a marathon up and down his body.
taehyung can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face, nor the laugh coated in equal parts disbelief and giddiness. his reaction is pretty gross and maybe jeongguk kissing him should be too but it’s so outstandingly not and maybe, just maybe that reveals more about him than he lets on.
✉︎
jeongguk absolutely kills the second half of the game. scores three touchdowns himself in the third quarter alone.
later that night, after taehyung’s gone home and gotten ready for bed, jeongguk sends him a text. a picture of a stack of business cards. UCLA Bruins, USC Trojans, Stanford Cardinals.
taehyung can’t help that smile either.
✉︎
monday is pajamas day. sweet and easy.
when jeongguk shows up at his house that morning wearing a bunny onesie and with a target bag hanging from his arm carrying taehyung’s tiger one, he doesn’t put up much of a fight. he flicks one of jeongguk’s floppy ears and invites him inside, lets him plop down on his couch with a bowl of cereal while taehyung goes to slip the jumpsuit on. they’re soft and comfortable and taehyung may or may not fall asleep in his first period class, head cushioned on his arms.
it’s a lot more than what everyone else did in their plaid bottoms but he doesn’t have a lot of time to be embarrassed about it. he spends a lot of time thinking about the arm jeongguk had around him when they were taking a picture for instagram (“we’re campaigning, tae!”). staring at the frame afterwards, taehyung has a starking thought. they look good together. they don’t look like they can’t stand to touch each other like their senior superlative photo. they should retake it if they look like this now. natural, happy together almost. it gives taehyung whiplash and maybe more than one introspective thought.
jimin bullies him for it but that’s nothing new.
“you look like a furry.” jimin laughs like he’s the funniest person alive, shoveling more chips in his mouth.
“i liked it better when you weren’t talking,” taehyung seethes. by some luck of the universe, jimin starts choking on his salt and vinegar lays and taehyung smiles proudly.
“serves you right.”
tuesday is arguably the worst theme, based on creativity alone. twin day also known as the bane of taehyung’s existence.
“it’s so unoriginal!”
jeongguk sifts through the clothes racks at zara. “we’re in los angeles, everything here is unoriginal.”
“i know but- put that down what the fuck,” taehyung snaps. jeongguk laughs and returns the thin black camisole he was handing taehyung back on the rack. “you’re so annoying.”
“let’s just find matching fits that an instagram model would wear and look better than everyone,” jeongguk says simply, going up and down the aisles. “and then we’ll win just for being hotter than the others.”
taehyung trails behind him and maybe warms slightly at the insinuation that jeongguk thinks he’s hot.
jeongguk, as it turns out, has a decent eye for fashion and manages to piece together a pair of dad jeans, tucked-in shirt, and jacket combo outfits that looks less tacky than it sounds. they wear it in different colors but are still complementary and when they look at themselves in the mirror, taehyung gets heart palpitations.
every girl and her best friend at school wears neon tutus and every guy wears the same black t-shirt they’ve had since freshman year and never outgrew, so they definitely stand out. despite all of taehyung’s grumbling, he can’t help but enjoy all the compliments they get, passive aggressive or not. he stares at that picture when they take it too and he has a feeling that the tightness in his chest will be a common theme all week.
yoongi does the honors of teasing him on wednesday and it’s not because taehyung’s dressed like he’s going to a ‘70s disco for decades day. it’s less to do with his horrendous patterned shirt and more to do with how he catches them in the hallway before first period.
jeongguk was being annoying, granted he’s like that almost a hundred percent of the time but he was being extra irritating. taehyung had straightened his hair for the occasion and spent the entire morning complaining about how to style it until jeongguk took matters into his own hands and started playing with strands. except he wouldn’t stop and kept getting more outlandish with each style.
his hair was a borderline mohawk when taehyung started whining and trying to escape his grasp.
“stop! you’re making it worse,” taehyung scowls.
“no, i’m fixing it.” jeongguk cackles when the hair at the back of his head stands straight up.
taehyung shoves his shoulder. “i hate you.”
jeongguk laughs like he knows just how untrue that is. his eyes light up even more when he spots the balloons taped to the wall as part of the homecoming hall decor. without hesitating, he peels one off and faces taehyung with a glint in his eye.
“i have a better method.”
“please don’t.” taehyung tries to put space between them but jeongguk’s faster, wraps an arm around his waist to keep in place before assaulting his head with the balloon. taehyung squirms all seven seconds of the interaction, trying and failing to escape his grasp. when jeongguk deemed he’s rubbed taehyung’s hair like genie lamp enough, he lets him go, takes one look at the result and nearly doubles over in laughter.
taehyung can feel each individual strand affected by the static standing up and he knows he looks insane. jeongguk won’t stop cackling and people look at them weirdly in passing and taehyung can’t help but flush, matting his hair down as quickly as possible.
“literally fuck you.”
he reigns in his laughter, standing straight with a large smile and volunteers a hand to help him tame the mess on his head.
“cute,” he mutters with a glint in his eye like he knows what it does taehyung’s sanity.
he (unsurprisingly) flushes but tries to play it cool, smacking jeongguk’s hand away and avoiding his eyes.
“shut up,” he grumbles and tries to detach himself from the situation. “i have to go to class.”
when he turns to leave, he’s pulled back almost immediately by a hand on his wrist. before taehyung can protest, there are lips on his cheek and he’s shocked into a standstill. jeongguk pulls back almost just as quickly with the most shit-eating grin on his face.
“have a great day!”
taehyung gapes at him for a few seconds but this time he doesn’t have the time to sit and marvel at the fact so he nods dumbly even as jeongguk continues to laugh. he robotically turns around to go to class with his head spinning only to be faced with the horrifying sight of yoongi at the end of the hall with an all too knowing expression.
taehyung’s face flames up and he can’t help but groan angrily, snapping out of his trance to rush to yoongi’s side and usher him away. his friend sputters at the manhandling and taehyung can hear jeongguk laugh louder behind him.
“don’t say a single fucking word or i’ll end you,” he hisses, dragging yoongi by the forearm.
“too bad,” he singsongs. “you look ridiculous and stupid and you’re obviously in love with him. jimin’s going to love this.”
“wrong, wrong, and wrong,” taehyung dismisses, finds it hard to meet yoongi’s eye. “i look good in anything and i’m absolutely not in love with him, don’t be a dumbass.”
yoongi tells jimin. it doen’t go well.
thursday is taehyung’s favorite.
that morning finds taehyung and jeongguk sitting on jeongguk’s bedroom floor facing each other wearing matching black and orange jerseys and fighting over a bottle of orange spray-on hair dye.
“give me one good reason why you should be hinata.”
“because i want to,” taehyung says petulantly, snatching the can out of jeongguk’s hand.
he narrows his eyes in response. “invalid.”
taehyung puts the can out of reach when jeongguk makes a grab for it. “completely valid.”
“i want to be hinata too, you’re not special.”
“your hair is darker than mine,” taehyung protests. “being kageyama would be easier for you anyway.”
“that’s what the hair dye is for!”
taehyung rolls his eyes. “i’m hinata. end of story.”
“you do not give me protagonist vibes,” jeongguk scoffs, making another swipe for the dye.
“fuck you, yes i do!”
“i challenge you to a volleyball match right now.”
“that has nothing to do with anything!”
jeongguk gives him a deadpan look. “did you watch haikyuu?”
“okay, i don’t need to be athletic to dress up as hinata, that’s so unfair,” taehyung whines.
“what’s unfair is me not being the protagonist,” jeongguk snaps. “hand it over.”
“do you hate kageyama, be honest.”
“shut the fuck up, i could ask you the same thing.”
“anyway, help me dye my hair, we only have thirty minutes.”
jeongguk squints, stares, lunges for the can without breaking eye contact, doesn’t manage to take it. taehyung stares right back and dangles the can out of reach. it’s silent. jeongguk’s eye twitches. his muscles jerk as he threatens to snatch it again.
taehyung pouts. “please.”
the fight leaves jeongguk’s body almost instantly. he rolls his eyes. “ fine .”
jeongguk helps him spray his hair orange and he’s left with a colored hand for the rest of the day but he thinks it’s worth it when they look exactly like the power couple they’re supposed to be for character day. they take another picture like they’re poised to spike a volleyball and look like complete weebs but jeongguk kind of giggles when he sees it so taehyung’s the first to post it on his instagram.
jimin finally approves of one of his outfits but completely ruins the moment in the next second.
“are you guys gonna kiss under the volleyball net?”
“i am so unbelievably tired of you.”
dress-up week is corny and lame and pointless but it’s the first time taehyung has cared to participate and he can’t regret it, not when jeongguk excitedly shows him his lockscreen of the two of them in costume looking like fools but smiling wide anyway.
the highlight, taehyung would say, comes on thursday night in taehyung’s room. they’ve been spending a lot of time together under the guise of homecoming court and dress-up week in particular but in reality, they spend twenty minutes figuring out their outfits and three hours doing literally anything else. tonight jeongguk sat down in front of his TV with a bag of skittles and all his attention devoted to magica madoka. he watches for hours, all afternoon, episode after episode, shovelling skittles into his mouth and separating the purple ones for taehyung because those are his favorite. taehyung migrates from his bed to his desk to the floor next to jeongguk, sifting through the candy he left him.
at some point, after several episodes of magical colorful witches, taehyung’s eyes begin to droop and even if his bed is a foot away, he uses jeongguk’s shoulder as a pillow instead. he’s warm and comfortable and just lets taehyung melt into his side with sleep. he’s halfway to dreamland when jeongguk shifts and jostles his head.
“stop moving,” taehyung mumbles without opening his eyes, clasping an arm around jeongguk’s bicep to keep him in place.
“sorry, sorry, i just-,” he starts, tries to move again. “i was gonna- sorry can you stay awake for like two seconds? i need to ask you something.”
jeongguk crawls over to his backpack when taehyung sits up and drags it back until they’re sitting thigh to thigh again with the bag in his lap. taehyung watches curiously as he unzips it and digs his hand in, probing through his books until he finds what he’s looking for. when he does, he pauses, hesitates, and looks to taehyung with an almost vulnerable look to his eyes.
“i was thinking that for tomorrow, since it’s school spirit day, you could maybe- i don’t know, it’s kind of dumb but it would mean a lot to me if you did,” he stumbles through. he realizes how unclear he sounds and just sighs before pulling out his hand and the fabric clutched between his fingers, gently placing the heap in taehyung’s lap.
taehyung stares at it for slightly longer than necessary before picking it up and straightening the material. it’s a football jersey, jeon 11 on the back in white block font. taehyung stares at it some more even as he feels jeongguk vibrating with nerves beside him.
“you want me to wear your jersey?” he asks, incredulous. this feels like some rite of passage with some type of metaphor buried in the middle. there has to be a metaphor, there’s always a metaphor.
“only if you want to! i know we planned on wearing the school colors so if you want to just do that then that’s cool too. you don’t have to at all i just thought it would be, uh, nice. if you did.” he stops abruptly, probably blushing to his toes but taehyung’s too busy trying to find the metaphor in between the sudden irregularities in his pulse.
“you want me to wear your jersey,” he repeats more like a statement, like it’s dawning on him that jeongguk just asked him to wear his fucking jersey .
jeongguk coughs. “yeah? yes. i do. is that weird? that’s weird isn’t it, you don’t have to, i just thought-“
“no!” taehyung blurts, looking up and meeting his very insecure gaze. “it’s not weird. i was just surprised that you want me to.”
he nods. “to be honest with you, i’m kind of nervous for tomorrow’s game and i think it would help a little. if you wore it.”
he blushes. again. taehyung feels winded.
“really?” it sounds breathless even to taehyung’s own ears but he doesn’t really care (jeongguk just asked him to wear his jersey. )
“of course,” he answers and it sounds so earnest, so sincere that taehyung has trouble dealing with it.
he starts nodding without further thought. “i’ll wear it.”
the nerves melt straight off jeongguk’s expression, quickly replaced with starry eyes and a bright growing smile. “you will?”
and god if taehyung doesn’t feel warm all over. “i’ll wear it.” he affirms.
he wears jeongguk’s jersey.
✉︎
taehyung is wearing his jersey.
taehyung is wearing his fucking jersey.
he feels like he’s maybe being a bit dramatic but it also feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest when he sees him friday morning, ends of the baggy tee tucked into his jeans. he looks cute, really cute, all the better with jeongguk’s name on his back. it feels all too reminiscent of when he gave taehyung his letterman jacket and he sort of got heart palpitations.
they sort of stare at each other for too long when jeongguk goes to pick him up, an awkward silence enveloping the car after the click of taehyung’s seatbelt. every strand of his soft hair sits perfectly on top of his head and jeongguk contemplates how appropriate it would be to touch it. after a few charged seconds, taehyung averts his eyes and clears his throat, picking at the fabric.
“it’s itchy,” he says quietly.
jeongguk smiles and puts the car in drive.
when he reaches out to switch the radio, taehyung follows suit to fix jeongguk’s rings, twisting them so the pendant is visible like some force of habit. before he can pull away, jeongguk takes advantage and flips his hand so he can intertwine their fingers. their hands stay joined over the console the entire way there and maybe some more after that.
he does a good job of holding his hand outside of the gym before the pep rally. it’s the end of the day and the entire school files onto the bleachers to wish the football team well at the game and to learn who the first half of the homecoming couple is. well that’s what they’re supposed to do but jeongguk is certain that the majority of these kids couldn’t care in the slightest.
that’s what he tries to tell taehyung who’s about to explode with nerves outside the doors, gripping jeongguk’s forearm so hard his hand stops receiving blood flow. but the words fall flat as taehyung peers through the door anxiously.
“what the fuck, what the fuck ,” he says, eyeing the multitudes on the stands. “have there always been this many people in this school what the fuck.”
jeongguk shakes his arm in an attempt for him to loosen up. he doesn’t. “why are you so nervous?”
“are you seeing this?” he points to the doors, incredulous.
“yes, i am,” jeongguk says, dragging him away from the door. “it’s not that bad, i promise.”
taehyung scoffs. “says you.”
“says me, yes.” jeongguk rolls his eyes without much bitterness. “trust me, it’ll be okay. no one really pays attention anyway.”
taehyung doesn’t look convinced. “thousands of high school kids are gonna be staring me down, that is not okay.”
“they like us! we won, remember.”
“because everyone hates their other options,” taehyung scoffs, sounding very much on the edge of hysterical. “we’re the lesser of other evils.”
“i can’t believe you.” jeongguk tries to escape taehyung’s grip to wipe his palm on his jeans because taehyung’s nerves are making his hands sweat like crazy. he tugs hard but he won’t let go, merely holds his hand tighter and mumbles more about teenagers and bullying and running away from home. “taehyung please.”
“god, jimin’s going to be taking pictures too,” he groans. “this is humiliating.”
jeongguk frowns. “no it’s not.”
“god, i thought the parade was bad but this is worse, this is way worse,” he mutters, ignoring jeongguk completely. “i’m going to look so dumb.”
there’s a twinge in jeongguk’s chest when a thought hits him and guilt starts surfacing inside him. “is it because of your shirt?” taehyung said nothing of the sort but he can’t help feeling paranoid, already surprised enough that he had said yes in the first place. he doesn’t know where they stand on the friendship spectrum and he wonders if he’s gone too far, has overthought it all day.
taehyung stops mid-ramble about the state of his hair and just gapes. “what?”
jeongguk stops too and wonders if anything about this is as serious as they’re making it to be. but then he remembers how embarrassed taehyung got when someone, anyone, commented on his jersey today and his frown deepens. “my jersey. is that why you’re uncomfortable? you didn’t have to wear it if you didn’t want to.”
“i- what?” taehyung asks, incredulous. “no, no that’s not it.”
“are you sure? because you’ve looked uncomfortable all day,” jeongguk responds even as he starts shaking his head. “you really didn’t have to-”
“i wanted to! i did, i do,” he assures and if it were possible, he holds his hand even tighter. “i promise it’s not that.”
jeongguk studies him, gauging how genuine he’s being. he’s unsure and more than insecure about it, wondering if he’s just saying that and he doesn’t actually want to associate with jeongguk in that way. it lingers despite the attempt at a warm smile on taehyung’s face.
“it’s the crowd, okay? don't worry, it’s just stage fright.”
jeongguk looks into the gym and the chaos of students on the court and the bleachers. eyes shifting to the other nominees looking far too eager to walk in, he makes the decision that he doesn’t care enough to sit through thirty minutes of taehyung cutting off his circulation. even as an administrator calls through the intercom to start the pep rally, he starts dragging taehyung in the opposite direction as discreetly as possible.
“what are you doing?” taehyung hisses but makes no effort to stop him.
jeongguk takes a turn down a deserted hallway and shrugs. “you shouldn’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“jeongguk, we can’t skip,” he protests weakly even as they take another turn. “what if we win?”
“ when we win, we’ll just get the crown at halftime,” jeongguk dimisses and he starts leading them to the empty auditorium, sounds of the student body fading behind them. “it’s not like they’ll give it to someone else because our seats are empty.”
taehyung falls silent then and let’s jeongguk pull him along.
the auditorium is blissfully silent, stage lights off and rows of seats lonely. it’s so quiet that every movement they make is audible. they settle in the very back corner and for the first few minutes, they don’t speak, every little noise seeming out of place. taehyung coughs and fiddles with a loose thread. jeongguk turns to look at him. the white of the 11 printed on the middle of taehyung’s chest stands out even in the muted lighting and it hits jeongguk just how weird everything is.
“weird,” he mutters without thinking.
taehyung startles slightly and faces jeongguk with a curious expression. “what is?”
“this,” he says simply.
he frowns slightly. “is it?”
jeongguk thinks back to the first game of the season when he accidentally knocked yoongi over and taehyung had nearly put his head on a pike and laughs, a few hushed giggles because it feels wrong to be loud.
“jeonggukkie?” taehyung probes, confused.
and that . that’s weird too. it all is.
“it’s just weird,” he says again. “this whole thing. us in general.”
he kicks at the seat in front of him and smiles to himself, soft in a way that only taehyung seems to bring, jeongguk realizes then. the boy in question is quiet and when he turns to look, the frown is deeper than before and he seems lost in thought, like he’s picking everything apart to find the weird. it makes jeongguk’s heart beat a little faster, how visible his distress is.
“it’s not a bad thing,” he clears up because he can only stand the clinch in taehyung’s brow for so long. “just funny how fast things change.”
“weird.”
“yeah.”
taehyung hums, face smoothening out. he meets jeongguk’s eyes and for a few seconds, he communicates a lot more than jeongguk can handle.
“i like it though,” he says quietly. “i like you.” he adds it even quieter than before and jeongguk can only hear his pulse skyrocketing.
“oh,” he says weakly. swallows. “i like you too.”
what does that mean? what does this mean? jeongguk’s head hurts suddenly. taehyung smiles and it’s small and shy and it makes jeongguk’s heart hurt too.
jeongguk desperately needs clarification but he doesn’t want to break the moment, the charged stares that say everything and nothing at all. he decides to leave it, feels like maybe he has time to figure it out even if their little homecoming court game ends tonight. he has a feeling that it won’t be the end of anything at all.
the moment (if there was one) is broken by a ping from jeongguk’s phone. it’s so loud and they can’t help but jolt slightly. taehyung looks away and jeongguk reaches for his phone, making an unimpressed noise when he reads hoseok’s text.
“what?” taehyung asks.
“i won,” he responds, not surprised. not egotistical or arrogant, just expectant. “they’ll announce the other winner tonight.”
“congratulations,” he says playfully. the glint in his eye makes jeongguk absolutely sure that whatever they have won’t fall apart when the stadium lights fade tonight, when the shitty plastic crown they fought so hard for is placed on taehyung’s head.
jeongguk smiles. “froyo?”
✉︎
when taehyung saw his name on the ballot for best couple, a lot of things went through his head. how much he hates jimin sometimes for one. how much he hates (hated) jeongguk. how badly he wanted to go back to sleep. he hadn’t expected to actually win or to go on regular froyo dates with said boy, much less run for homecoming king with him. what he expected to blow over almost as quickly as it happened turned into something way more complicated, snowballing until taehyung’s left with his feelings tied into a knot.
once upon a time in a middle school deep in los angeles, a baby-faced jeon jeongguk fresh off the plane from the motherland had shyly asked taehyung where the bathroom was before second period and made him positively swoon. it took all of two seconds of looking into his wide shiny eyes for taehyung to fall in love, granted he was thirteen and would fall in love with just about anyone that was nice to him. the sentiment still stands, jeongguk was a sweetheart and taehyung really, really liked him.
getting his attention was a challenge in itself, everyone wanted in with the cute new kid, especially one that’s also seemingly a football prodigy. taehyung's big break in freshman year biology was less exciting than what he had hoped, leaning towards immensely disappointing the moment jeongguk completely ignored his over-excited greeting and promptly fell asleep at his desk. then did it again the next day. and the entire week they were supposed to work together. taehyung had done the entire thing by himself while simultaneously fuming that jeongguk hadn’t given him the time of day. so call him petty but he didn’t write his fucking name on the project, realizing then and there that jeon jeongguk was no longer a sweetheart but rather another self-obssessed jock. he learned later that jeongguk wasn’t allowed to play at his game for his grades and had felt wildly accomplished.
once upon a time, that’s where taehyung would’ve put the ‘the end’. the two boys stayed engaged in a petty back and forth for the next four years of their lives and lived happy ever after in hostility. dot the i’s, put a period at the end, and move on. then park jimin forced the pen back into his hand none too kindly. it was supposed to end when jeongguk threw a pen straight at taehyung’s face in junior year pre-calculus but has somehow evolved into knowing each other’s froyo order by heart, and holding each other’s hand, and quietly admitting they like each other without either of them knowing what the other person meant exactly.
it’s complicated.
that’s perhaps too generic to say but that’s the extent of it. things between them have come full circle on taehyung’s end and his maybe too honest admission of it in the auditorium had only served to confuse him further. did jeongguk mean he didn’t hate him anymore? because taehyung had kind of reached that conclusion himself. did he mean it the way taehyung hoped he did? taehyung’s mind has lapped an excessive amount around the idea and he can’t quite grasp it.
he had wanted to ask. really, really bad. but it’s their last day doing this together and he wasn’t about to ruin it with his confusing feelings. so he had let their words float away and treated jeongguk to their last menchies cup of homecoming season.
but maybe, the most surprising and unexpected thing about pseudo-dating jeon jeongguk is that he’s kind of getting the gist of football.
“what’s that term again? traveling?”
“tae, that’s basketball.”
he said kind of.
“close enough,” he dismisses, attaching his 70-200 mm to his camera. jeongguk looks like he wants to protest but doesn’t get the chance to, interrupted by taehyung snapping a shot of his face.
he swats lightly at the lens. “stop it.”
“don’t mind me, i’m just checking the settings,” he says, laughing when he opens the picture. “you blinked.”
“check your settings elsewhere.”
“i need a subject, jeonggukkie,” he says cheekily before snapping a couple more to spite him.
there’s an hour to go before kick-off and jeongguk is spending pre-game under the bleachers with him talking aimlessly instead of warming up. they can hear the growing noises of an excited crowd above them and more keep piling into the stadium. taehyung eyes each and every one with distaste, nerves fluttering in his stomach at the prospect of standing on the field at halftime, all for a tiara that he doesn’t actually care about.
he looks away from the long line of those yet to enter and focuses on his shutter speed.
“shouldn’t you be out there doing jumping jacks or whatever it is you do?”
“sure,” he says flatly, slipping off the railing he was perched on to do two knee-highs halfheartedly. “there.”
“you’re going to pull a muscle,” he says, unimpressed. “think about your hamstring, jeon jeongguk.”
he salutes him sarcastically in response. “sorry coach kim!”
“dumbass.” he throws his lens cap at him, missing narrowly but it makes jeongguk laugh regardless. “don’t come crying when you get benched.”
“i won’t but thank you for the concern,” he says, placing a hand on his chest. “warms my heart.”
“shut up and go run some laps before your coach gets mad at you,” he pushes, masking genuine worry with annoyance. the picture of jeongguk limping still sits in the back of his mind, right next to him strung out and stressed about college. if taehyung thinks about them hard enough, a knot forms in his throat so he can’t help but nag. “i don’t want to be around for that, he scares me.”
jeongguk laughs. “he scares me sometimes too.”
he doesn’t leave though, just sits back down on the metal railing and swings his feet, looking much more content than a week ago. taehyung follows the movement, fiddling with the strap of his camera.
“how’s your ankle?”
“pretty good, all things considered.” he stretches it out for emphasis, laces of his cleats flying around. “namjoon threatened to go on strike if i didn’t go easy this week so i tried my best.”
taehyung wants to keep asking, opens his mouth to do so when, “jeon! stop disappearing on me!”
the voice, deep and angry and belonging in taehyung’s nightmares, is a decent amount away but it still makes him flinch, scrambling to get his camera bag as if they were caught doing something wrong. jeongguk gets to his feet, laughing again.
“works like a charm doesn’t it.” he reties his shoes and picks up his helmet. “i have to go now, see you out there.”
“good luck!” he manages to get out before his sanity gets absolutely demolished.
in lieu of a goodbye, jeongguk leans in quickly. as if that didn’t leave him breathless enough, instead of going for the cheek (which taehyung has only just started getting accustomed to), he goes straight for the lips. almost with no thought, like he didn’t have to think twice about kissing him. it’s barely a peck, a press of their lips for half a second before he’s gone, jogging back to the field and waving over his shoulder.
taehyung stays rooted to the spot, mind struggling to catch up and face already on fire. his lips were soft, is his first thought which doesn’t make much sense considering it was over faster than he could blink. his second thought is more aligned with the way his insides have gone into chaos. he wants to do that again. preferably several more times. for a lot longer. that single thought invades every last neuron in his brain until he’s replaying the moment over and over again in an infinite loop. it sticks on his mushy insides like a leech as he finds it within his uprooted self to walk robotically to the sidelines.
when it settles, really settles (jeon jeongguk just kissed him. he kissed him. in real life) taehyung can’t keep the smile off his face. even when jimin points out that he looks slightly maniacal, even when pre-game is over and done with and they win the coin toss, even then. a euphoric feeling bubbles within him that he never thought he’d feel because of jeongguk. but it’s too late in the game to pretend, to deflect. so what if he told jeongguk to go fuck himself in august? it’s october now and he kind of really wants him to kiss him again. things change.
he’s so happy that he doesn’t stress over the lacking amount of pictures he’s taken, much less about the quality. rather he spends his time wondering what chapstick jeongguk uses and hoping he can find out soon. he’s so immensely happy that he can’t be bothered about jimin ditching him for namjoon and instead spends his time scanning the field for the same number he has printed across his own front. he’s so ridiculously happy that he doesn’t feel nervous when halftime rolls around and the nominees are filed onto the field with their running partners to await the final verdict.
on the turf, with jeongguk’s hand in his and the stadium lights blurring the face of every crowd member, his excitement has little to do with the muffled announcer trying and failing horribly to say the nominee’s names correctly. it has everything to do with the way jeongguk had smiled at him before walking out, sweet but nervous, like it belatedly dawned on him what he’d done.
“taehyung,” he whispers as the announcer absolutely butchers his name. when taehyung looks over, jeongguk’s staring at his cleats with a flush high on his cheeks. “i’m sorry. about earlier if that was we-“
“no!” he says as forcefully as he can in a whisper. “no, it’s okay.”
jeongguk looks up, surprised. “really?”
taehyung nods, smiles. the last thing he wants is for jeongguk to feel bad about it. what he does want is for him to do it again so might as well clear the air now.
jeongguk studies his expression, smile slowly breaking out on his own face and taehyung’s heart soars at the sight.
taehyung wins, to his mild surprise. it takes him a moment because he couldn’t even recognize the garbled mess of syllables over the speaker but they’re ushered to the center in a heartbeat. people applaud them and someone thrusts flowers into his hands and a crown onto his head before the entire photography department crowds in front of them for a picture.
he can hear some congratulating them and an overwhelming amount of shutters and also jimin yelling at him to stop looking so ridiculous which makes taehyung’s eye twitch vaguely. it’s extremely chaotic and moving way too quickly but the arm jeongguk has around his waist is fairly grounding so he can’t be too mad at it.
his moment of fame is gone too soon, jeongguk whisked back to the locker room and jimin in front of him with accusing eyes.
“congratulations,” he says before shoving the camera back into his hands. “now do your job, your shots tonight are horrible.”
“thank you and that is very rude,” he pouts and fixes the strands of his hair around the crown. the thing itself is a plastic structure with a felt rim covered in a gross amount of sparkles and probably cost the school all of ten bucks but he treasures it, more for what it represents than anything.
he takes the camera with his other hand, avoiding jimin’s probing eyes. even if he has his own boy to pay attention to, his best friend can sniff him out from miles away. “what is up with you? you’re in a suspiciously good mood.”
“is that a bad thing?”
“no but i have a feeling it has to do with jeon jeongguk and i’m waiting for you to tell me.”
taehyung coughs, returns his focus to his (horrible) shots. “maybe i should get back to these, you’re right they do suck.”
“kim taehyung.”
“i’ll be by the cheerleaders if you need me!”
to top off one of the best nights of taehyung’s year thus far, they win. it’s a close game, the entire audience on the edge of their seats, but kim seokjin delivers the final blow. a touchdown in the last few seconds of the game, breaking the tie. the uproar is deafening, crowd and team alike. streamers fall from somewhere deep in the stands, the band plays their piece with extra vigor, and the entire student body chants victory. it’s positive energy all around and it’s physically impossible to have a frown on your face. taehyung can look through his viewfinder and take a picture of just about anything for a good final shot but he’s imperceptibly drawn to player 11 tearing his helmet off and running to the sidelines with his teammates, smile blinding. especially so when he swaps the bulky headwear for the shitty dollar store crown he had left on the bench, eyes scanning for the matching pair. taehyung takes a few shots to immortalize how gorgeous jeongguk looks running towards him but it can’t compare to the real thing. dropping the camera, taehyung’s smile gets impossibly wider when he stops a few feet away to bow dramatically.
“your majesty.”
“thank you, thank you,” taehyung nods back. “congrats.”
“on the crown or the game?”
“both,” he shrugs.
they both stop then. talking, moving, breathing. just stare at each other with stupid grins on their faces. the stadium is alive around them, some still celebrating and others fighting their way out to be the firsts to pull away from the hectic parking lot. it’s so loud but the noises just fall flat around him and maybe that’s too cliche to say but he can’t help zeroing every bit of his attention to the way jeongguk’s gaze slips down to his lips and back up.
something in him snaps at that, patience running out and moving to close the distance between them. jeongguk gets the same thought at the exact same moment, taking a few steps to meet him in the middle. and it’s weird (much like everything else about them) how they’ve never done this but they fall into each other quickly and easily, jeongguk’s arms wrapping around his waist instantly. when they kiss, it’s sweet and slow and makes taehyung’s heart nearly beat out his chest. jeongguk tastes of cherry chapstick and gatorade, an odd mix but taehyung doesn’t mind, far from it because he kind of wants to kiss jeongguk forever. taehyung’s hands grip lightly at the hair at his nape, head tilting to meet each press of lips. when jeongguk tries to pull him closer, the camera hanging from taehyung’s neck wedges between them, digging into his stomach.
pulling away, jeongguk whines weakly. “ow, what the hell.”
taehyung kind of wants to smash the camera into the ground for interrupting but. but jeongguk’s pouting very cutely, fluffy hair adorned with that corny crown and hands still at taehyung’s sides and he can’t believe this is real. he can’t mentally grasp that this is reality and just laughs. bright and happy and incredulous. it makes the small pinch in jeongguk’s brows smooth out, own mouth forming a smile until he’s laughing along with him.
even as the night winds down around them, they stay wrapped in each other, giddy and giggling quietly about anything and everything.
“so, tomorrow night,” jeongguk starts with a glint in his eye. “i don’t know if you’ve heard but there’s a dumb dance in the gym with punch and a shitty top 40 playlist.”
“sounds horrible,” taehyung comments, getting dumb butterflies at where this is going.
“absolutely horrendous,” he agrees, smiles wider. “go with me?”
everything about homecoming is dumb and corny and cheesy. truly serves no purpose. but what’s a homecoming dance without it’s kings?
✉︎
“what’s your name again? seokjin? yeah, can you move closer like two inches?”
“like this?”
“yeah. also jimin can you stop doing that with your face?”
“i’m not doing anything!”
“you’re ruining the picture.”
“fuck you.”
“ho-“
taehyung groans from beside him, arm intertwined with jeongguk’s going slack. “yoongi hurry up, we’re going to miss our reservation.”
yoongi pokes his head out from behind the tripod. “that’s why i suggested buffalo wild wings instead of some boujee restaurant that sells water for five dollars.”
“just take the fucking picture!” hoseok calls. “how many do we even need?”
“you all keep doing stupid shit,” yoongi snaps. “we need at least one good one.”
“my head is starting to hurt,” namjoon sighs and jeongguk can second that one.
maybe merging friend groups for homecoming at the last minute wasn’t the brightest idea.
taehyung slumps into his side, head falling onto jeongguk’s shoulder. it’s the simplest of movements but it still makes him stupidly happy.
“this was a bad idea,” he mumbles as jimin starts fighting with yoongi over the proper height for the camera.
“not all of us are four feet tall jimin!”
“you’re right. some of us are three feet tall, you would know!”
jeongguk picks at his tie, maroon to match with taehyung’s. “maybe but i think hoseok has a thing for yoongi so one good thing can come out of this.”
“that’s not a good thing,” taehyung shudders. “that’s a dangerous pair.”
jeongguk laughs.
yoongi moves to take the tripod as a weapon when seokjin rips it out of his hands.
“i paid for some nice ass sirloin not this bullshit,” he snaps. “now take the damn picture before i take a selfie and call it a day.”
yoongi grumbles, snatching the camera and setting the timer as the rest of them plaster smiles back on their faces. they’re a weird mix but they bundle together, fixing hair and adjusting suits. yoongi presses the shutter and rushes to the edge of the group, oddly welcoming the arm hoseok wraps around his shoulder.
they’re loud and rough around the edges but jeongguk thinks his last is his favorite homecoming yet. seokjin styled his hair to perfection, namjoon looks extremely happy with jimin at his side, and maybe yoongi has a thing for hoseok too. and taehyung, of course. the best part and maybe the only one that matters.
he tightens his hold on him, loves the way they fit so well together and wonders how they ever got to this point.
the shutter clicks. the boys cheer dramatically and head for the car. taehyung takes his hand and drags him along, thinking out loud about what he wants to order.
jeongguk smiles to himself.
maybe, just maybe, he owes park jimin one.