Genre: Friends-to-Lovers • College (Grad School) AU
Summary: You have - most inconveniently - become obsessed with your dissertation partner’s hands. In an effort to relieve some stress about it, you begin sending texts to your best friend detailing - explicitly - what you want those hands to do to you.
Perhaps you should have checked the number a bit more carefully.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS PROHIBITED. I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY INTERACTIONS WITH PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Word Count: 5300
Rating and Warnings: (Explicit/18+) for mature themes, innuendo, and explicit sexual content • unprotected sex • nipple play • use of restraints • there are mirrors • tit slapping...Um. Let me know if I miss something?
Author’s Note: I wrote this in response to my EVER nsfw prompt which was simply “Jungkook’s hands.” I hope you like it!
At one point the reader mentions “Fort Knox” which is one of the most secure facilities in the USA.
This is bad.
“Do you think she’ll actually go through and count all of our sources-”
This is really bad.
“I only have seventeen, but I looked over documents from the medieval period-”
His fingers plowed through those long chocolate locks in frustration and your eyes literally crossed.
This is nuclear winter bad.
“- not many people have written about this specific style of iconography and the last scholar to contribute meaningfully to the field-”
Jungkook absently reached for his pencil and your pulse scattered in panic.
No. Dear sweet heaven please not the pencil -
He twirled it deftly over his knuckles, flicking his wrist casually so it cracked with a sharp little pop.
You clenched. Hard.
“WATER!”
Papers slid in all directions as you abruptly shot out of your seat. Jungkook’s startled gaze darted up to yours.
“A-...are you ok?”
“Yes. Uh yeah. I’m just...thirsty.”
These were the truest words you had ever spoken.
Your sweet, kind, doe-eyed project partner smiled, blissfully unaware of all the ways you were defiling him in your head.
“Kitchen is right around the corner. Help yourself.”
“Mmmhmm,” you squeaked.
A few moments later - in the relative privacy of Jeon Jungkook’s kitchen, you pressed your forehead against his fancy steel fridge and groaned.
Woman, you’re a disgrace.
It wasn’t always like this. You can still remember a time (3 weeks ago) when you were a normal person and not one good knuckle crack away from being an exhibitionist.
School had been a priority for years. You came from a modest family with a modest income, and that meant you needed to work for every opportunity - academically and financially.
So you did.
You worked all the way through undergrad and the first year of a Master’s degree in Museum Studies with few breaks and even fewer encounters with the opposite sex.
And you were fine with that. You had goals - dreams. Sure, you were a tad lonely and routinely stressed, but your friends were amazing and you found yourself oddly ...
Content.
Until Jeon Jungkook wrapped his glorious hands around the proverbial rug and yanked it right out from under you.
At first glance, he posed no true threat. Yes he was gorgeous (you were not legally blind), and well-built, and overwhelmingly polite, but you were no untried novice. If Calculus 211 with Park Jimin hadn’t broken you, then nothing would.
Or so you thought.
Maybe it was his habit of wearing baggy sleeves that hung loosely over his limbs till only the barest hint of fingertips were visible, but your initial impression of the newest addition to your graduate cohort was unmemorable. Your seasoned brain automatically filtered out anything about him that could be a distraction and then blissfully went about its business... totally unaware that there was a torpedo in the water.
No, it wasn’t until Dr. Kim announced dissertation partners that you discovered your fatal error.
“--you’ll be working with Jeon Jungkook.”
The two of you turned to each other across the small lecture hall and exchanged friendly nods. After seminar dismissed, your new partner made his way to your desk.
“Here. Let me give you my number. Text me your availability and I can reserve time in the artifacts lab for us.”
Then it happened.
Jeon Jungkook rolled up his sleeves and your brain unlearned 24 years of human speech.
Holy poo on toast dear GAWD-
His hands were obscene. NSFW. Basically pornographic.
Long fingers with a gentle flair at each knuckle - nicely rounded nails - wide palms - with a hint of bones and veins over the back-
“Um... hello?”
-cleverly inked designs wove up the wrist on the right side -
“...Unless you’re not comfortable-”
-and rings - one on the pinky - both index fingers - oof and the thumb-
“... I mean you don’t have to give me your number-”
-were those chain bracelets?! Who was this man? Who were you? What was your name? How deep could those fingers slide into your-
Why is he walking away?
“Oh sh- WAIT! Jungkook-”
It had only gone downhill from there really.
His hands were just a gateway drug to the rest of him.
Every detail you’d effortlessly ignored was suddenly streaming through your consciousness in high definition.
His smell (something mouthwateringly masculine with a hint of vanilla), his hair (soft brown curls that hung romantically over his eyes), that chest (broad, firm, lickable)-
The man was a full course meal.
And you were starving.
Your libido - too long imprisoned by the shackles of academic excellence - had gone completely feral.
You managed (miraculously) to smooth over the initial malfunction (where you drooled over his hands instead of giving him your number) and establish some sort of work schedule, but in reality, meetings with your dissertation partner quickly turned into a daily exercise in uncontrollable thirst.
Measures needed to be taken.
You were not going to let Jeon Jungkook and his glorious paws destroy years of hard work and self-imposed almost celibacy.
“You need an outlet.”
Jungyeon’s voice interrupted another x-rated day dream you were having about Jungkook slapping your thighs in a public park.
“What kind of outlet?” you sighed mournfully, glaring at your thighs and their notable lack of a Jungkook handprint.
Her words swam about in your head a moment before you processed them fully and wrinkled your nose.
“Please tell me you’re not about to suggest some sweaty liaison with an unwashed townie from the local bar-”
Jungyeon rolled her eyes and flicked you right in the forehead.
“No princess, because I’m not the side character in a 90’s teen movie.”
“Noted,” you mumbled.
“I’m thinking more of a creative outlet. Like... writing.”
“You want me to start composing horny prose?”
“It’s called smut - but whatever. Your dirty little secret could potentially bring much joy to the world - my world specifically.”
“I am... totally lost.”
“Instead of trolling tumblr for hours looking for fantasy fuel - I’ll just use your fantasies as fuel. Text them to me as they come. It’ll be like a dirty subscription service.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m a genius.”
Jungyeon’s lack of both boundaries and tact aside, she was - in fact - literally a genius (she had the papers and everything) as well as your best friend of 6 years. All it took was one solid stretch from Jungkook during your next brainstorming session and you were scrambling into the bathroom to fire off your first round.
Me: I want Jeon Jungkook to wrap his hands around the back of my neck, press my face into into this table and edge me till I’m screaming-
Jungyeon: I am definitely a genius. Feel better?
Me:... you know what. A little.
And thus began several weeks of what you affectionately referred to as “Kookie porn.”
Some were rather graphic:
Me: I want Jeon Jungkook to rip my sopping panties off and grind my naked clit onto that thigh until his jeans are wet with my cum.
Others were more philosophical in nature:
Me: If I die before licking sweat off Jeon Jungkook’s abs, did I ever really live?
And some were oddly specific:
Me: I want to run my tongue over every vein in Jeon Jungkook’s hands and forearms while he licks whipped cream off my tits.
Jungyeon was living her best life and would wait with unconcealed glee for your meetings so she could “have some more Kookies.”
The texts, however, were but a band-aid on a bullet wound. They weren’t enough. Every time he smiled, or looked at you with that soft sparkly expression, or said something extremely intelligent (because of course he’s intelligent) the insistent throbbing in your lady bits would intensify till you were forced to seek immediate relief (like when you had to subtly grind a table leg in the artifacts lab yesterday after Jungkook used the bottom of his shirt to wipe off a water bottle and nearly murdered you with a flash of his cut lines.)
But the worst part. The absolute worst part was the sneaking suspicion that your fixation was not simply sexual. The more you genuinely enjoyed him as a person, the less effective your lurid texts became...
And now here you were - hiding in his kitchen with wet cotton sticking uncomfortably between your legs and no relief in sight.
Grumbling irritably, you fished out your phone and prepared to serve Jungyeon a steamy Kookie fresh from your oven of debauchery.
Me: I want Jeon Jungkook to tie me to his dining room chair. I want him to rip my shirt in half, slap my tits and suck my nipples till I scream-
The fantasy in your head crystallized at an alarming rate. Your fingers could barely keep up with the filth you were imagining.
Me: I want him to hike my skirt up and flick my clit through my soaked panties till there are literally tears streaming down my cheeks.
Me: I want to watch as he sinks those fingers into my pussy. I want him to bend me back and work them in my cunt till I can’t remember my own name.
Me: I want him to split me in half with his cock and smack my ass till I can’t sit down. I wanna see every place that man’s hands have been on my skin.
Your body was aching. Tormented. The texts that had once been a pressure valve were now actively ramping up the pressure. Whimpering in frustration, you smashed the send button and jammed the phone back in your pocket - ready to once again face the source of your misery when-
da-ding
The entire bottom dropped directly out of your reality.
You knew that sound.
It was the sound you heard each time you collected a coin in Super Mario. More importantly -
It was your sound.
The sound Jungkook had programmed into his phone as your text alert when he discovered you were a die hard Nintendo nerd.
And now...
It was the sound of your universe imploding.
With shaking hands you drew your phone out to confirm the terrible truth that deep down you had already acknowledged.
You hadn’t texted Jungyeon.
You had texted Jungkook.
For a moment - an impossibly brief moment - you entertained the idea that he would simply ignore the message and continue on with his search for sources on 11th century iconography-
But no.
A faint but excruciatingly clear gasp carried into the kitchen.
It was the gasp of a man who has just discovered that his dissertation partner wants him to “split her in half with his cock.”
Run. Run away now. Change your name. Move to Madagascar.
Your eyes darted frantically over your surroundings - searching desperately for a means of escape.
Why does this man live in Fort Knox?!
There was one window in the entire room - directly above the sink. There’s no question of whether you’re willing to climb over the sink to get out of here. Of course you are. You would vault a shark if it meant freedom from Jungkook’s maximum security kitchen.
You had one foot in the sink (the other dangled precariously in mid-air) and were just about to crawl out into your very own version of the Shawshank Redemption when two large hands wrapped around your waist and hauled you back with embarrassingly little effort.
It took a moment for you to realize that Jungkook had neatly thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Your brain filled with white noise. You wondered - absently- if you could master astral projection between here and wherever he planned to drop you.
Probably not.
An indignant squeak slipped out when your rear hit the dining room chair, but your eyes remained glued to your knees, unable to meet the gaze of the innocent soul you had no doubt traumatized.
For one breathless instant everything was oddly suspended... Then - a single finger pressed firmly beneath your jaw, bringing you face to face with Jeon Jungkook at last.
“I must say...” he drawled thoughtfully, letting his gaze drift over you with lazy intent, “This comes as somewhat of a surprise given your... history.”
He was close. Too close. Close enough that his scent - that familiar mix of sunshine and vanilla - was making your mouth water.
And he definitely wasn’t traumatized.
Or innocent.
You gulped.
In fact, the man before you looked like a sex-drenched rock star; just raw charisma wrapped in tats and solid muscle.
“O-oh?”
Jungkook grinned.
“Stuttering? That’s cute coming from the woman who wants me to-” (he made a show of pulling out his phone to check) “split her in half with my cock.”
And there it is.
“I obviously didn’t mean to send ... that - to you.”
“Oh - I knew that even before I caught you climbing out my window,” he chuckled, “speaking of which-”
His arms unfolded and your eyes bulged near out of their sockets.
A jump rope - the one you knew was hanging on the wall near the kitchen when you first walked in earlier - was now wrapped loosely around his wrist. You barely had time to process that he must have grabbed it somewhere between receiving your text and yanking you out of the sink when-
“Are you - are you tying me up?!”
“You seem surprised,” Jungkook whispered softly against your ear (causing you to shiver embarrassingly). “That was the request you submitted - was it not?”
“Besides,” he leaned back to inspect his handiwork, “we can’t have you trying to jump out another window. This is really for your own safety.”
You opened your mouth to say something - actual words - but all that came out was a squeaky sort of wheeze-
Jungkook continued to regard you in smug amusement.
“You know you’re somewhat of a legend on campus... They call you the unbreachable babe-”
You rolled your eyes.
“And they wonder why I won’t sleep with them.”
“-the pristine princess-”
“Points for alliteration.”
“-the white whale-”
“Someone called me a WHALE?!”
Jungkook snorted.
“It’s a Moby Dick reference.”
“Everything is a dick reference with men,” you muttered, wiggling against the jump rope. “You know you can’t just go around tying women to chairs against their-”
“Against their will?” he finished with a devilish grin. Slowly he lowered himself down in front of you till you were eye to eye.
“I suppose it’s a good thing I have your written permission right here then.”
His breath teased across your lips a moment before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear and wrapped his arm across the back of your shoulders - bringing the phone to you “Why not read it for me, hmm?”
“I - no I can’t I-” your words stumbled as he scraped his teeth over your earlobe.
“Do it,” he growled.
The rough timbre of his command shot a hot spark of pleasure to your already drenched core. You could not remember ever being so exquisitely on edge.
“I ... want Jeon Jungkook to-” your breath caught as the heat of his free hand crept over your torso, “to tie me to his dining room chair-”
“Check,” he whispered, letting the words brush along your neck. “Go on.”
“I want him to rip-“ his fingers slid further up your chest, “oh gawd” - your breaths were coming in faster - every word stuttered out like a broken whimper - “rip my shirt in half, s-slap my tits and -”
Jungkook fisted one sinful hand in the material of your collar and yanked. Buttons flew in all directions as the cool air flooded over your skin.
“You drive me absolutely crazy,” he muttered, letting his eyes linger on the black lace bra you’d thrown on because all the others were dirty. “But you don’t look past your books, and every guy you’ve ever shot down in cold blood knows it.”
His hands - sweet fiery heavens - his hands came up to palm your breasts and you moaned aloud - arching forward shamelessly. Your dignity was long gone at this point and you had no desire to retrieve it now.
Jeon Jungkook finally had his hands on your tits and you weren’t going to miss a single second of it.
“Please-” you whimpered. His long fingers kneaded into the soft mounds with perfect pressure- - you could feel the weight of his rings through the lace.
“I never thought I’d get to do this,” his thumb brushed roughly over your peak and you jerked against the rope with an involuntary whine.
“You have no idea what you do to me, woman,” he sighed heavily - letting the heat of his breath tease the lace on your nipple a moment before he mouthed over it with the wet heat of his tongue, “but I have so many ideas about what I’m going to do to you.”
Your back bowed up until the rope pulled taunt against the chair - the ache in your center swelled uncontrollably.
It had been so long. You were so sensitive - too sensitive.
“J-Jungkook I - Ah! Oh my go-”
He switched to the other breast without warning and unleashed the same exquisite torment until you were grinding your thighs together.
“Frustrated?”
You shot him a look that was half desperate, half incensed and he raised a single eyebrow.
Jeon Jungkook knew a challenge when he saw one.
His teeth closed over your cloth covered peak for the briefest instant - sending a sharp spike of pleasure-tinged pain directly to your clit.
You screamed - the throbbing in your cunt became nearly unbearable as you clenched reflexively around nothing.
“You sound so pretty, sweetness,” he praised gently - letting his lips soothe the abused tip. “Let me give you what you want...”
His fingers curled over the edge of your cups and tugged hard until you spilled out over the top.
Wow.
Jungkook felt his heart contract painfully in his chest.
He studied works of art - masterpieces - for a living - but looking at you - tied to his chair with the soft, bare swells of your breasts presented to him like Christmas morning - he would swear he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life
You weren’t just sexy - you were smart, fiery, driven. He had never wanted a woman so badly - not just your body - but you. He’d never been possessive, but just the thought of you stirred something downright uncivilized within him. He wanted you in his clothes. In his bed. Covered in his touch.
He fought it every day - raged against it while you sat in seminar taking notes in your cute little nerd outfits like a living breathing librarian wet dream.
When Professor Kim paired you together it was the best and worst moment of his life. It kicked off three solid weeks of increasingly more desperate attempts to hide his persistent arousal anytime you were within 5 feet of him... There were several very close calls - like the time he randomly yanked his gym bag onto his lap in the middle of the library for no apparent reason. But you gave no indication of recognizing his bizarre behavior. (In fact you had zoned out completely because you were watching his hands fiddle with the zipper on the bag - so much so that you spilled your water bottle down the front of your white t-shirt which led to Jungkook disappearing - gym bag and all - into the restroom for a few minutes.)
He knew it was hopeless.
His new friends were all too eager to tell him of the many men who - even with completely honorable intentions - had tried and failed miserably.
And yet...here you were. Mewling for his touch like a needy little princess.
He respected your boundaries. You made it clear you weren’t interested in dating - in anything of that nature for the foreseeable future, so he never flirted, never asked you for coffee, never reached for your hand across the table the way he ached to more often than not…
But the moment he read your text, everything changed.
You wanted him (and pretty desperately too, if your depraved fantasies were any indication). Jungkook could feel the familiar hardness building below his waist, but he brushed any thought of immediate relief to the side.
He might never get another shot at this. He had to make it count.
Stretching forward, he cupped the generous curves of your breasts - testing their weight in his grasp. His gaze devoured you greedily and you could feel yourself blooming under his focused heat. There were no thoughts beyond this second - this moment - and the desperate - all consuming desire for more. More of this - more of his touch - more of his attention. You needed it - craved it till you were whining breathlessly - pushing up into him like a purring cat when-
Smack.
You hissed in mindless pleasure as his palm connected sharply with your tits.
“Is this what you wanted, sweetness?”
Smack.
Your mouth shot open but no sound - save your soft, strangled gasps - emerged. He used just the right amount of force to send you reeling. Your sopping panties flooded anew with each exquisite impact.
Smack.
“You want me to mark these perfect tits?”
Smack.
A primitive growl rumbled deep in his chest as he watched them bounce - mesmerized.
Suddenly his hands were soothing the sore red flesh with tender strokes. His mouth hovered over your hardened peaks - teasing his lips against them and stirring up tiny delicious sparks of heat in the pit of your stomach.
“I must have pictured you like this a thousand times,” he whispered, “and still nothing ever came close.”
His eyes darted up to meet yours as he flicked out his tongue to wet the swollen tip of your nipple. Your throbbing inner walls fluttered in helpless anticipation as he drew it entirely into his mouth. The obscene visual of Jeon Jungkook suckling one breast while his sinful hands cupped and stimulated the other was lifted directly from your most pervasive fantasies.
Your body bowed against the restraints again as waves of delicious sensation jolted over you.
He was relentless - showering each side with near worshipful attention while your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.
“Jungkook,” you sobbed, “please I-”
All at once he surged forward - gently soothing the sides of your jaw with his thumb. His forehead rested intimately against yours - almost - but not quite- touching your mouth to his.
“What now, sweetness?”
The words whispered teasingly across your lips sending shivers over your arms and into your chest from that one tentative point of contact
You were completely sunk for this man and he was determined to prove it.
“What is it you want?” he coaxed. His voice was soft - indulgent. You were entirely in his power, but he had offered you this one last reprieve.
You knew what the consequences would be if you answered.
“I- I need your hands.”
He grinned.
“Where do you need them, hmm?” His fingers brushed lightly over your knees.
“Higher-”
He slid them up a inch or two further.
“Jungkook!”
“Tell me,” he whispered against your neck, “tell me where you want my hands.”
“Please...please put your hands... on my pussy.”
“Such a good girl for me.”
You couldn’t resist the warmth of his praise. It curled through you like liquid sunshine, washing away the last threads of your resistance.
Some things were more important - even than school.
His fingers traced the sodden outline of your slit and you moaned- pressing forward desperately toward relief.
“Already so wet,” he marveled. “Is this all for me?”
You nodded frantically and Jungkook delivered a harsh flick directly to your clit. The shock of pleasure had you reeling back so hard that the chair scraped across the floor.
“I can’t hear you, sweetness.”
“You-” you sobbed incoherently, “its all for you - please-”
Jungkook rewarded you with a radiant smile and you’d swear you were twice as wet now,
“Then you won’t mind if I have a taste?” he chuckled.
Deep, open-mouthed kisses suddenly spread over your core - directly through your panties. The sensation was so foreign and unspeakably lewd that your hips began to shake from the intensity of it. Large hands wrapped around your calves, forcing you to endure his leisurely pleasuring until the emptiness in your cunt became truly unbearable.
“Ah! Gawd - I can’t - I-” Tears burned at the corner of your eyes. Jungkook gave your ruined panties one last indulgent lick before yanking them off entirely.
The anticipation of what was coming next was slowly killing you - but if this was going to happen - there was one thing you desperately needed.
“My skirt - take my skirt off I want-”
Jungkook drew back, tilting his head expectantly. “Oh?”
You felt your cheeks begin to heat, but at this point - nothing would come between you and the realization of your ultimate daydream. Not when you were already tied up with your legs open and your tits out.
“I want to see your hands. When you...I want to see them in me.”
You could tell the moment Jungkook put all the pieces together. A strange light of realization sparked in his eyes as his gaze shifted between his hands, your face and then back to his hands again.
I want to see every place that man’s hands have been on my body.
“Well, well, well,” he snorted softly - then his palms smacked down on your thighs and the sting made you yelp guiltily. “Anything for you, sweetness.”
There was such a playfulness to his dominant aura. He had your body at his mercy, but there was unconcealed affection there.
Affection for you.
The realization set your heart fluttering along with your cunt and Jungkook's gaze immediately snapped back to the glistening core. Your skirt pooled messily around your ankles now and the picture you presented was markedly erotic.
“Look at this pretty pink pussy, sweetness,” he hummed, running one ringed thumb over your swollen labia - carefully avoiding your needy clit. You were just about to literally die when one lone index finger slid into your drenched channel - all the way up to the knuckle.
It’s been so long since anything but your own inadequate digits have been inside you this way. The foreign feel of him, combined with the erotic visual of his veiny hand pressed lewdly to your center, hit your nervous system like a shot of pure adrenaline.
“Your tiny cunt is so tight,” he hissed, slowly pistoning his finger in and out of your core.
He added a second finger and you whimpered at the stretch. “How will you take my cock if you’re this tight, sweetness? When your greedy little hole can barely handle two of my fingers?”
You couldn’t look away, the sight of those fingers disappearing inside of you only to reappear covered in your slick was hypnotic. The crude sound of your wetness clapping against his hand with every thrust was completely debauched. You could hear his tempo increase as well as see it and your body writhed helplessly, mewling erratically as the sensation continued to build. You were hurtling toward the edge and he knew it.
His free hand clamped around the back of your neck keeping your gaze focused on the place where he breached you. “You want to cum on my fingers, baby?” His thumb (finally) flicked your clit and you jolted hard.
“Yes - yes please-” you gasped.
His lips closed over your throbbing nub the same moment the two fingers in your sopping cunt curled up to press that spot. Lurid squeals tore from you as your body thrashed in an attempt to absorb pleasure that sharp and acute.
“Jung-jungkook-ah!”
You were wailing his name. He offered no escape from the escalating spikes of sensation - suckling your clit and pounding into your cunt without mercy all the way up until the moment you shattered.
Your mouth flew open in a silent scream as wave after wave of exquisite release poured through your body. Jungkook whispered filthy praises against your spasming pussy as he gently worked you through the height of it - licking away the messy flood of your cum like nectar from the sweetest source.
Then he was kissing you - slamming his lips onto yours like a man with nothing to lose and everything to win. He kissed you with unrestrained adoration and you opened to him eagerly - drunk in a haze of your own pleasure with a heady mix of your essence and a flavor distinctly his own heating up between your mouths. You could kiss him forever. You never wanted to stop.
“I swear-” he murmured when your lips broke away to taste his razor-sharp jawline, “there were days I thought I would die if I couldn’t have you.”
“Have me, then,” you breathed, scraping your teeth over the tender flesh of his neck. “Take me, now.”
The logistics of how you ended up in his room were mostly unclear (there was a lot of tugging and untying and yanking of shirts over heads…)
However, most significant aspect of the whole transition was the moment you discovered that the massive closet next to Jungkook’s bed had mirrored doors.
Watching yourself bounce up and down on his massive cock was downright mesmerizing.
The scene before you played out complete with lewd slaps to accompany the visual as he thrust up into your dripping pussy with relentless vigor. One large tattooed hand wrapped around your rib cage while the other gripped into one of your tits.
Honestly, you could not help but wonder at his strength and stamina as he used your body like his own personal cock sleeve. You’d never once been dicked down so thoroughly - so pleasurably - in the entire scope of your experience, because - if you had - there is no way you could have gone a day - let alone years - without it.
Gawd you missed this. You missed him. He’d never been inside of you before this moment, but you still missed the feel of him all your life right up till now.
“How is this pussy still so tight?” he grunted - shifting his position a bit so he could pound into your g-spot from a different angle.
“Jungkook,” you whimpered - unable to process anything beyond the delicious sensations rocketing out from your swollen cunt with every thrust.
“I know you can cum again, sweetness” he coaxed.
The hand on your breast dropped down abruptly to smack your clit right above where he entered you and your broken sobs of ecstasy nearly drowned out his next words.
“That’s right. Cum all over my cock.”
Searing pleasure tore through you in response to his command. His head shot back with a guttural groan as you clamped down on him.
“Where can I—?” he gasped - wrapping both hands around your ribs as his rhythm became wildly erratic. He was so close he could barely see straight.
“Cum inside me - Jung -Jungkook - want you to fill ahh - fill me up-”
You were your stomach before you could fully process how you got there. The sight of him behind you in the mirror, pounding into your core while his arms and chest rippled obscenely was downright enthralling.
I’m never having sex without a mirror ever again.
“I’ll never get enough of this perfect little cunt, sweetness. Please -” he begged - the first and only time all night, “- tell me I’m yours. Tell me this isn't the last time I’ll touch you.”
Strange warmth flooded your chest.
“You’re mine, Jungkook-” a sharp twist of pleasure had you crying out again. “Only mine.”
His thrusts became more erratic as his body lowered closer to yours, bringing his chest flush against your back while his lips brushed your ear.
“And who does this pussy belong to?” he growled possessively.
“You - It belongs to you!”
White hot cum bathed your inner walls as he came with a strangled shout. His arms gathered you close while he rode out the waves of his release.
The minutes that followed passed in a blur of tender kisses and soft moans...
There was something so alluring about him gently cleaning and caring for your body in the haze of afterglow.
“You know what this means, sweetness,” he whispered, pressing his forehead intimately to yours.
“What does it mean?”
You were already drawing him into another kiss.
“It means all those dirty texts better come directly to me now.”
Ask My Muse: Have a question for the characters in this work? Send it to my ask box and hear their side of the story.
Endnote: This fic took so much out of me... I have never written anything like this before. Feedback is really the only reward for endeavors of this nature and I promise I treasure every word... Please share and talk to me?
Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Begging, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Bondage, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Impreg Kink, Riding, Squirting, Cream Pie, Jeongguk Has Glittery Cum
A/N: THIS HAS BEEN MY BABY FOR A HOT MINUTE! I’m so fucking proud of this fic and I did so much research that my head might explode and Greek Letters will come out! Thank you to @lunarlxve and @jung-hoseok-s-airplane for beta reading it and giving me awesome feedback! Thank you to @ladyartemesia who literally pushed me to write something so awesome AND SHE MADE A FUCKING GORGEOUS BANNER. LIKE DO YALL SEE THAT?! Anyway I hope you really enjoy it because my heart is so warm for this fic!
Eros, the Greek god of love, sexual desire and attraction
“At the center of Greek mythology is a pantheon of deities who live on Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in Greece. Every aspect of human life was ruled by these deities. There were twelve main Olympians who ruled over such aspects. Olympian gods and goddesses are said to look much like women and men of this world but could also change their appearances into whatever they liked, animals and things of that nature. Most people know of the common gods, such as Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. But, there are others such as Dionysus- the god of wine, Aphrodite- the goddess of beauty and love, and even Hermes- the god of travel, who was in fact the personal messenger of Zeus. If you’ve watched the movie Hercules you’ll-” Professor Song’s voice becomes drowned out by the snort that comes from your left. You roll your eyes before craning your neck forward to keep listening to the lecture. You’ve always had an affinity to mythology of any kind since you were a child but, as you grew up Greek mythology stood out the most to you. You became enamored with it and decided to become a mythologist. You’ve heard of these tales countless times but you could always hear them once more.
A cough comes from next to you as you listen to the tale of Hephaestus and you roll your eyes once more before putting your hand underneath your chin. You jot down notes dutifully before looking up as Professor Song begins to wrap up the class. “For the last portion of your grade, you will all be assigned to work with a partner. The theme of your project is Graceful Gods, a study on partnerships between the gods and goddesses. You may choose whichever two gods and goddesses you may like that have had a connection with one another. Now, this doesn’t mean to watch Hercules a bunch of times and comment on those relationships between cartoons.”
The class erupts into small giggles and you find yourself snorting at the lame joke. “Since I know that most of you cannot put yourselves together properly, looking at you Haeyun and Jowoon-” You giggle at his call out before paying attention again, “-you will all work with the person directly next to you at your tables.” Your eyes glance over to the long haired boy by next to you and you inwardly groan.
You know of him, of course you do. Who hasn’t heard of him on campus, he’s a fuckboy that enjoys preying on the hearts of innocent girls. To be fair, he is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in your life. His long black hair fell just above his chin and as he looks at you, you can see his coffee brown eyes with flecks of mocha mixed in. He smirks at you and your first instinct is to immediately swoon but you stop yourself and roll your eyes instead. His smirk only widens letting you view the way his eyes squint slightly as his head tilts. “I’m Jeongguk.”
His voice is melodic, dripping with saccharin sweetness and your body tenses up at his tone. He was smooth and of course, he knows it but you wouldn’t budge. You just wouldn’t. “Do you have a name? Or should I call you Nemesis?”
So he knows more about mythology then he lets on. You take in his posture, the way he leans back in his chair smugly, legs stretched out in front of him as he folds his arms. He has no backpack, no notebooks or anything of the sort that is required. “Hello? Nemesis?” His hand waves in front of your face and you grimace at him before pushing your chair back.
“Y/N.” Your answer is short and he nods thoughtfully at the name as if it held some sort of riddled meaning. His hand digs into his ripped black jeans before pulling out his phone. “Put your number in so I can contact you. We can meet up whenever you aren’t gagging over Ares.”
You shut your notebook before staring at the phone in his hand. “I do not gag over Ares.”
He snorts before throwing his phone into your lap, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip as he looks you over. His expression is somewhat amused before putting his fist underneath his chin, “Song was talking about him and I saw your thighs twitch, he isn’t all that by the way.” You shove your notebook into your backpack before freezing. He sounds so comfortable with this subject, it’s almost as if he knows him.
“Oh yeah? How would you know?”
“How would I know what?” He snorts, a gentle breathy noise as people begin to get up and leave the lecture hall. “How do you know that he isn’t all that?”
He stares at you for a second before laughing loudly, his eyes crinkle as his mouth opens wide showing off a dimple on his cheek. You swallow gently as your eyes scan his handsome face. You zone in on the beauty mark beneath his bottom lip and you have to rip your eyes away before licking your lips.
“Did you know that Ares is one of the most disliked gods on Olympus? He has a quick temper and nasty disposition. Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s the greatest guy ever. He didn’t beat Herc when he fought him. So, he was unsuccessful. He pissed off Poseidon enough to physically murder his son. He had an affair with Aphrodite! She’s a beautiful soul and he just fucking stole her away. He’s an asshole and, you can’t fucking please him to save your life!” He rants carding his fingers through his hair, and you can see a vein begin to protrude in his neck as it flushes pink. He knows a LOT about mythology it would seem. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work on a project with him then.
“Interesting how you know you can’t please him.” You jeer as you pick up his phone. His scoff is loud before looking to the wooden floor and widening his eyes. He gives a small embarrassed chuckle as you throw his phone back into his lap. You look at his worn leather jacket before standing up. “Hit me up when you want to work on the project.”
Your eyes flicker to your phone again, looking at the black screen before scoffing. “So what he hasn’t texted you. It isn’t like he HAS too. He’s a fuckboy. He’ll do what he pleases.” You mock to yourself before stepping out of your apartment.
Your walk to the university was relatively short, your eyes flicker down as you spin your phone in hand. It’s been two days since you last saw him and you can’t stop thinking about the handsome guy. Maybe it was because he just dripped with this kind of allure that you wanted to know of. Or, maybe it was because he was so comfortable talking about things that you find interesting. You can recall when you first met Jeon Jeongguk. How you swooned at the sight of him before getting a general dislike for him.
You had heard tales of the hot guy on campus, the man that was always leather clad with tattoos and dangling earrings. You never hung with people in your university, for the simple fact that you wanted to just push past this awkward phase in your life and do what matters most to you but you did have one friend before he graduated. A certain Jung Hoseok that would take time out of his day to make sure you were alright and be a shoulder to lean on. “That’s him. That’s the fuckboy.” He whispers in your ear as you press your bag closely to your chest.
You look over as he sits on a bench, legs crossed as his arms extend over the top of the bench. He was surrounded by girls, fawning over him leaving drinks and snacks for him to eat. You scoff gently as his head turns in your direction. “Who does he think he is? The Messiah?”
He looks you over and you feel your breath catch in your throat. The first thing you notice about him is his bone structure. Underneath the beating sun you can see the way his sharp jaw calls out to you as he tilts head at you. He smirks, just the corner of his lips flick upwards and Hoseok whistles next to you. “That’s a whole meal right there, bitch.”
His golden skin sings under the sun's rays as he fixes his leather jacket. You find your body beginning to sway at his gaze before shaking your head and scoffing loudly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” You narrow your eyes as he snaps his fingers, the girls begin to disperse taking themselves to class and he bows his head to you before smiling widely. You roll your eyes befo-
You’re taken out of your memory as a car horn begins to sound off loudly and you turn your head quickly to the noise before gasping. The car drives towards you without stopping and you feel your body stiffen in shock. Mind going blank as you stare at the car approaching.
“Nemesis!” You hear before your body is being shoved by a leather clad body. You feel your body become coddled to the other body before you begin to shiver with the aftereffects of your shock.
“Zeus above! Are you okay?!” You feel the body pull away before your eyes are greeted with the now familiar coffee irises of Jeon Jeongguk. His black hair falls into his eyes as his eyebrows furrow. You gasp gently before he hugs you close to him.
“Who do you think you are? Hermes? You think you can fucking fly?! How could you be so careless?” He scoffs gently before setting you down on your feet and swiping his thumb over the apple of your cheek. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and you shove him off of you before clutching your backpack to your chest.
“I-I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He widens his eyes before putting his hands on your shoulders, “Be careful! We shouldn’t let Hades welcome you to the Underworld any sooner than you should be.” His touch feels comforting before you clear your throat and step back away from him. “I’ll pay more attention. I’m sorry.”
He bites his bottom lip, his beauty mark on display before he is sighing gently. “Let’s get you to class, Nemesis.”
The walk towards the lecture hall was quiet and awkward as he stayed next to you. His tall form shadows yours as he puts his hand on the small of your back. You can hear girls whispering and staring and you shrink in form. He clears his throat before snapping his fingers. The whispers begin to die down and you find yourself looking up at him as he gives you a small smile. “Thank you for that back there.”
He chuckles gently before rubbing your back, “Anything for a goddess.” You tilt your head confused and he smiles widely. “Nemesis. Goddess.”
You open your mouth before nodding gently. “Right. Nemesis.” He opens the door to the lecture hall before opening his arm, “Ladies first.”
You clear your throat before walking in first and he follows shortly behind without a second glance at girls as they stare at him. “You-You never texted me.” Your voice sounds feeble and you curse yourself for it.
He laughs gently before slinging his arm over her shoulder. “You sound upset about it.” You frown before shrugging his arm off of you. “I just wondered when you wanted to work on the project. That’s all.”
He hums playfully before opening the door to Mythology Lecture Hall, “I can’t leave Nemesis waiting with bated breath.” You narrow your eyes at him as you ascend the stairs to your table.
“It’s not bated breath, I just want to get this project over and done with.” You throw your backpack on the floor before taking a seat.
You watch as he sits down next to you, legs stretched out before him as he tilts his head. His eyes roam over your form before smiling. You find your head tilting along with his before your breath hitches. He really is so handsome. You take out your notebook before watching Professor Song enter the lecture hall. You can feel his eyes on you and you pull at the hem of your shirt. Is it hot in here or is it just you?
“Just text me when you want to work on it.” You mumble before pulling at the collar of your shirt. “Yes, ma’am.”
You stare at your television, Chinese takeout in hand as you spin the chopsticks around. Your mind begins to drift, thinking about your new lab partner. He knows so much about the subject and yet, he pays absolutely zero attention. It’s very interesting. So interesting in fact that it’s hindering you from watching the latest episode of your favorite television show. Your feet kick up on the small wooden coffee table before looking up at the ceiling. He was annoying, that much is sure. He was so smug and sure of himself and it’s irritating but you’ve never given him a second glance since taking this class and it’s been almost a year already. He was gorgeous, you’ll give him that. His sharp jaw and those coffee brown eyes that remind you of a doe. His long black hair that you really wouldn’t mind running your fing-
You’re pulled from your thoughts as a small feline body crawls across the loveseat and onto your lap. “Artemis, you scared me.” You whisper before petting the top of her head and turning your attention back to the television. Jeon Jeongguk is an enigma, a fuckboy enigma and you’ll complete the project and be on your way.
You cross the green grass lawn of the university before parking yourself underneath the same tree you always do. No one ever seemed to come to this secluded area, nor did people really seem interested in sitting underneath a weeping willow tree that hasn’t been taken care of probably since the university was created. But, you liked it, you liked the free nature of it and always take your place under it before class. As you fold your legs underneath you, you take out your book of choice for the day. The Iliad. You’ve read it many times before this but the story never seems to get old.
“Where was I?” It’s a sin to dog flap pages and it always will be. Your eyes find the page and you smile to yourself.
“Hera seduces Zeus.” You mumble to yourself, finger trailing over the many lines of text before finding it. Your eyes light up and you tuck in for a good, quiet read before you hear the fluttering of wings nearby. A dove lands before you and you tilt your head to it as it sits down on the grass before you as if it’s studying you. Your nose wrinkles and you look back down at your book, “Would you like me to read to you? It’s a very interesting book. It’s about the Trojan War. It’s from a book called The Iliad.”
The bird makes no move and you shrug before clearing your throat and leaning against the trunk of the tree. “Hera of the golden throne looked down as she stood upon a peak of Olympus and her heart was gladdened at the sight of him who was at once her brother and her brother-in-law, hurrying hither and thither amid the fighting. Then she turned her eyes to Zeus as he sat on the topmost crests of many-fountained Ida, and loathed him. She set herself to think how she might trick his thinking, and in the end she deemed that it would be best for her to go to Ida and array herself in rich attire, in the hope that Zeus might become enamored of her, and wish to embrace her. While he was thus engaged a sw-”
“Why’re you reading to a bird?” The voice makes you jump and you look up as a hand curls around the trunk before revealing the owner of the voice. You sneer at his handsome face as he sits down next to you.
“I didn’t invite you to sit next to me. And, it’s not just a bird it’s a dove.” His eyes flicker over to it before narrowing his eyes. “Yeah… I see that.”
With the roll of his eyes, he goes to shoo the bird away but it stands its ground making him huff out annoyed. You’ve never seen such a brave bird, how interesting. “Why’re you reading this?”
He takes the big book from your hands and you fold your arms as he skims through the pages before slamming it shut. The echo resounds through the lawn and you scowl at him. He smirks before holding up the book and you notice how veiny his tattooed arms are. “I can tell you more than this book could, I’m sure.”
“Oh? Could you? When you never take notes in class or even pay attention? I think last week I heard you snoring next to me.” You mumble before pulling the book out of his hands and pressing it to your chest as if it was protection from the attractive man in front of you. “Yeah but that lesson was on Dionysus, that’s boring shit. He’s a drunk partier big whoop.”
He’s doing it again, talking like he knows them personally. “I’ll bet you twenty bucks I can tell you more about The Iliad without having to even open the book.” You raise an eyebrow at his brazen words before letting your legs stretch out and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your bare legs as your dress rides up as you move. Frazzled, Jeon?
“I’ve read this book a handful of times. I want to do this as a job, you do realize that? You can’t lie to me.” He copies your actions, hands pressing the ground behind him as he stretches. His foot presses against yours and the dove walks closer.
“Oh my gods! Would you please get lost?!” He asks the dove loudly who just sits down closer to the both of you. You snort before looking back over at him. “Twenty bucks.”
His tongue sweeps over his perfectly shaped lips before smirking. “You’re on Nemesis.”
“Who does Zeus send a dream to, to attack Troy?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes before giving a fake yawn.
“Agamemnon. Next, what is this kindergarten?” You open your mouth surprised at his answer before shaking your head and clearing your throat.
“While fighting who does Diomedes kill?” That’ll stump him, it’s a trick question.
“He killed many Trojans but the only one he killed of any importance was Pandaros. Who before you get snippy was an aristocrat and not a god or goddess.” You frown before your fingers begin to skim the back of your book. He sure knows his stuff.
“Ah! Who drove back the Trojans?!”
“Oh good gods above. Achilles. Who cut like, half the population of them at the river Skamandros. The river became filled with them and I hear it also smelt like shit.” You giggle gently at his joke before sighing and digging in your bag. You grab your wallet before pulling out a twenty dollar bill. “Here. Go buy your girls ice cream or something.” He snatches up the bill with a wide smile before it falters.
“Girls? What girls?” He folds his arms, hand crumpling up the bill of cash before tilting his head. His eyes are alight with confusion and you find yourself stuttering as you shove your book back into your bag. “You fuck like half the campus, Jeongguk. Everyone knows this.”
“Oh, do they now? How are you so well informed about this information if you stay by yourself all the time like Oizys?” Calling you the goddess of misery and suffering? You scoff gently before standing up, “I have ears and eyes also I’m not Oizys. I just like to be by myself.”
He hums playfully as you walk away, “You’re right, Nemesis! Sorry!” He chuckles to himself as the dove flies onto his lap. “Mother, can you go away? You’re embarrassing me, Zeus above.” He stands up quickly before calling after you.
“Nemesis! Wait up! You mad I didn’t text you yet?”
He chased you all the way to the lecture hall before taking his seat next to you. You pull out your notebook and pen before looking over at him. Empty handed yet again. You snort before giving Professor Song your attention as he enters the room.
“Today we’re going to be talking about Apate.” Jeongguk gasps gently next to you. “Your sister.” You roll your eyes at him before turning your head.
“I’m not Oizys. Shut up.” He snickers before leaning closer to you, “She’s a bitch anyway. You aren’t, you're just...sheltered and cute.”
You frown at his statement before paying attention to Professor Song, the cap of the pen purchased between your teeth as you narrow your eyes at the white board.
“Apate- the goddess of deceit was the daughter of Nyx, the personification of night. Apate was the sister of several others such as Oizys- the goddess of suffering, Geras- the god of old age, Moros- the embodiment of doom and many others of that nature-” Song’s voice becomes drowned out as you hear Jeongguk’s chair scrape closer to yours. You could feel his breath fanning your face, he was so close and you stuck your neck out to try and pay attention. His smell was intoxicating, the smell of honey, pine and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. Something that pulled your body towards his as if he was your polar magnet.
“Did you know that Apate once gifted Dionysus with buckets of wine to distract him from giving Ariadne a crown but it didn’t work?” Jeongguk whispers in your ear, your body shudders at his smooth voice. Goosebumps grace your skin as you side eye him, his long black hair falls into his eyes as he smirks. His tongue licks over his lips and you suddenly find yourself questioning how he would taste.
You squeeze your eyes shut as he leans into your ear, “I can teach you a lot more than Song, if you let me.”
There was nothing in books about the tale that Jeongguk just told and yet, you find yourself believing him. You open your mouth to speak before you hear a throat clear. “Jeongguk, since you happen to know so much you feel the need to talk, why don’t you tell us about the tale of Hera and Zeus?”
You cringe before looking over at him, he fixes his leather jacket before leaning back in his seat. All of the lecture hall is looking at your table and you feel yourself shrinking in your seat. “The tale of Hera and Zeus? He cheated on his wife. So Hera begged Apate to get revenge for her, but Apate made her beg on her hands and knees before agreeing. Semele had Dionysus, the drunken little idiot and Apate gave Hera a magical girdle. She tricked Semele into asking Zeus to see his real self and then Semele died because of it. Humans cannot view gods in their true forms. Their little brains can’t handle it. Oh! Also, when Semele died it rained with thunder and lighting for a year.”
Professor Song’s jaw opens in shock before raising an eyebrow, “That’s sort of how it went. There’s nothing in books about rain and the getting on hands and knees part.” Jeongguk shrugs before looking back over at you and smiling. He’s weird.
“Just...pay attention and no talking Jeon Jeongguk.” He salutes the professor before his leather jacket begins to sag under weight. He digs into his pocket and produces a bag from his jacket pocket. His eyes light up and you look at the woven bag that has a dainty string around it. He stomps his feet happily before looking at you and wrinkling his nose. He opens the bag before pulling out an apple and then another. He puts an apple on your lap before biting his. You watch as the sweet juice coats his lips before dribbling down his chin. It was something simple that has your insides coiling. Fuck, he was too hot for his own good.
“Eat it. Don’t refuse my gift. I’ll be sad.” He says before nodding his head to the apple on your lap. You pick up the apple quizzically before staring at it. You turn the apple in your hand, staring at how perfectly shaped it is. The skin shines brightly and you swallow as your mouth begins to water. It’s the most perfect piece of fruit you’ve ever seen. “It’s from my aunt's special garden. They’re really good.” He whispers as Song looks over.
You shrug before biting into the apple, the sweet taste spreads over your taste buds and your eyes widen. This is the sweetest piece of fruit you’ve ever tasted. “Wow.” You whisper before putting your hand to your chin to wipe off the juices. Jeongguk watches you with amusement before nodding to himself. Like he’s made his own executive decision on something.
“I’ll text you later, want to come over to my apartment to work on the project?” You had almost forgotten all about it before noticing that people are leaving the lecture hall. Class was already over? You were so into your interaction with Jeongguk you hadn’t noticed time fly by so quickly. It wasn’t such a good idea to bring him over your apartment, Artemis doesn’t like very many people. “Sure. Hit me up.”
10:32 Unknown Number: Nemesis, good evening.
You snort to yourself as you lay in bed. You turn on your side, hand sliding underneath your head as you add his number to your phone.
10:33 You: Hello.
You didn’t know how to feel about him after today. He was always deemed a fuckboy but he doesn’t really seem like the type if you’re being quite honest with yourself. It’s always just what you had heard in passing but watching him get so childlike and excited over an apple? It seemed like he was a bit different. Not to mention his knowledge of Greek mythology was absolutely incredible and you find yourself liking that he likens all of the gods and goddesses like his friends or family. It’s something comfortable to you.
10:34 Hades: Want to come over to work on the project?
10:34 You: That works for me, I don’t have many classes this week.
10:35 Hades: Perfecto. Anyone you want to choose for the project?
You set the phone down before tapping your fingernails against the back. Who would this project even be about? You hadn’t really given it much thought. You do enjoy a lot of different relationships between the gods and goddesses but your favorite would probably have to be Eros and Psyche. Wouldn’t hurt to see if he was up for it.
10:38 You: Eros and Psyche?
You settle yourself in for bed before looking back down at your phone. He left you on read. You frown before typing to him once more.
10:40 You: We can choose others if you prefer, it was just a suggestion.
10:41 Hades: See you soon, Nemesis.
You stare at the phone before sucking a sharp breath between your teeth and tilting your head. Now, you weren’t an expert at texting but something felt wrong. His answer seemed clipped and you wonder why. Did you hurt his feelings or something? You frown before throwing your phone on the charger and staring up at the ceiling. Enigma Jeon Jeongguk.
You saw him the next day on the lawn of the university. He was by himself for once, not surrounded by girls or gifts near him. You hid behind the weeping willow tree as you surveyed him. He sat down on the green grass near the tree, pulling at the blades of grass with his head tilted. A dove lands at his feet and he smirks at it before putting his fist underneath his chin. “Hello.” His voice is small as he leans back on his hands. He seems different somehow today, like he was in deep thought over something.
“Remember I told you that I had a lab partner to work on a project with?” He’s talking to the dove, like a crazy person. He takes off his leather jacket before laying it on the ground and throwing his body on to it. “She wants to work on Eros and Psyche.”
He stays quiet for a minute before clicking his teeth, “I’m not mad at her or anything. I really like her. She’s funny and cute, interesting.” You feel a blush begin to heat up your cheeks and you sit on the ground behind the tree before pressing your head back to it. “She seems really sweet and she’s very smart and nice.”
He sighs before ripping up a blade of grass, he groans loudly before putting the palms of his hands to his eyes. “No! I’m going to do what I want without your advice for once! We all know what happened the last time you fucking talked to a woman I liked!”
He likes you? You stop breathing as you go wide eyed. Heart hammering in delight you press your backpack tighter to your chest before smiling. Even if he was claimed to be this famed fuckboy, your heart feels a bit lighter knowing that he enjoys your presence.
“Just let me figure out if she likes me first. Zeus above!” He sits up before pulling his jacket back on, as he walks towards the lecture hall. He spots your legs behind the tree before stilling. You stomp your feet on the ground and he begins to smirk before heading off.
A few days later he has texted you his address. That was it. Just the address and nothing else. You can’t help but think you fucked up with that text and you don’t even know how you did it. You had put on comfortable clothes, although your brain was telling you to wear something cuter for god knows what reason. Something about this guy pulled you to him and you are unsure how to feel about it. You’ve never been this way before, you’ve only ever just went about life on your own. But you do know one thing all you have to do is just get this project done and get it over with. That’s all you can hope to do.
Standing in front of his apartment you can smell those same smells you smelt on him yesterday. You could feel your legs quivering for some unknown reason and you lean against the door jamb to collect your breath. You were nervous to be alone with him in such a small space. That’s what you think anyway, but knowing that if you knock on this door right now and he’ll appear makes your heart begin to hammer with delight. You groan gently before making a fist and taking a deep breath. Get the project done and over with.
You knock on the door before teetering on one foot to the other as you hold your breath. “Coming!” The voice is not of Jeongguk and you tilt your head before releasing your breath.
The door swings open and a handsome man stands before you. Smiling widely as his eyes squeeze shut before tilting his head.
“Y/N?” You nod slowly as you take him in. He had deep blue hair, dark chocolate eyes, a bright smile and the most plush pink lips you’ve ever seen in your life. He was dressed casually, just blue jeans and a black hoodie and even that seemed sensual. He dripped allure and effervescence as he stepped out of the way. “Come in, Jeongguk is in the shower.”
As you enter, setting your shoes off to the side you let out a low whistle at their apartment. The walls were made of marble, stone pillars in random places that exuded richness. Everything was gold, the furniture, the statues placed on stands and even the filigree of the walls. The blue haired boy walks past you before jumping onto the gold couch and smiling widely as he picks up a glass from the coffee table in front of him. “Wine? I’ve got the good stuff.” You swallow, looking around the living room with a dropped jaw before looking at the man on the couch.
They’re fucking rich! You notice a dove perch onto the statue of Aphrodite in the corner and suddenly your nodding to the man. “Yes. Wine.” He smiles widely before jumping up, “I’m Jimin by the way. Jeongguk is my cousin.” You nod in amusement before walking towards the Aphrodite statue.
The statue is pure gold, glimmering underneath the lights of the large chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. The dove bows its head down at you and you smile before waving at it. It looks just like the dove from the great lawn. You reach out to touch the statue before pulling your hand away, it’s almost like you’re in a museum of some sort. There’s a loud purr that catches your attention and you turn your head to the noise before yelping. “That’s Adoneus.” Jimin says cheerily and you narrow your eyes at him.
“That’s a lynx.” He nods happily before handing you the glass of wine, the lynx approaches you and you stiffen as it rubs its head against your thigh. “He’s really friendly, don’t worry. He was a present from my father.”
He pats the seat beside him before widening his smile at you, his eyes completely disappearing. You find comfort in his smile and you find yourself doing so as well before sitting down next to him. Leaning back you take in his black hoodie for the first time before noticing the thyrsus printed on the front.
“Do you like Greek mythology too?” You find yourself asking before you could stop yourself. He laughs gently, a short melodic noise before Adoneus sits at his feet. His fingers curl underneath the cat's chin before tilting his head to you. “You could say I embody Greek mythology, Y/N.”
You take a sip of the wine before widening your eyes, “Good, right? I have the best grapes on the planet.” The taste held so many undertones you couldn’t put your mind on any of them besides one. One that you couldn’t name that you smelt on Jeongguk the day before. “It’s delicious.”
Jimin hums at your compliment before pointing at the gold caddy by the Dionysus statue in the corner of the room. “I have something else you should try too.”
The crystal vase holds some sort of thick looking honey and you lean forward as he stands up. “It’s the most delicious thing to drink besides my wine. Look, I’ll give you some.” He stands tall before brushing off his pants. His feet pad over to the caddy before flipping over a gold goblet. The glass cork is pulled from the vase and you swallow as he begins to pour the drink. It’s thick, taking it’s time to fall into the cup. “Is it honey?”
He smirks before topping off the glass and holding it out. “Come.” You go to stand before hearing a hall open in the doorway.
Jeongguk appears, shirtless with a towel hung around his neck before narrowing his eyes at the situation in front of him. “Do not drink that. Jimin, please.” Jimin chuckles before putting down the glass. “Y/N seems fun! That’s all.”
You swallow thickly before looking over Jeongguk’s naked upper half. He had an eight pack underneath his golden toned skin, small droplets of water grace his skin as he leaned against the door frame of his room. “Come on Nemesis. Leave Jimin to drink and have fun on his own.”
Jimin laughs loudly at your nickname before walking back over to the couch and his huge cat. “Nemesis? Seems more like a Psyche to me.” You watch as Jeongguk grimaces before grabbing your wine glass and walking towards him. The closer you get, the tighter your throat gets. Chest restricting as his muscles clench and lax with every breath. You can see his tattoos clearer now, all symbols of Greek mythology. The one that catches your attention the quickest is the dove holding a rose in its beak over his heart. He smirks at you and you find it hard to stand still, knees beginning to quake underneath his molten gaze. He raises his arm above your head letting you enter the room and you thank him quietly before entering. His bed was white with a gold headboard. The room smelt of pine and apples as you stand awkwardly in the doorway. “Come.” His voice is gentle as he passes you to sit by the bed. His arm brushes against yours and you stiffen at the touch.
“I’m sorry.” You say quickly and he raises an eyebrow drying his hair with the towel. “Sorry? For what?”
Your feet shuffle towards the end of his bed before clearing your throat. “The other day, you didn’t text me back after I suggested Eros and Psyche and I’m sorry if I upset you.” He tuts his tongue to the roof of his mouth gently before patting the spot beside him. “I’m not mad at you, don’t be silly. Come, sit.”
His tone is soft and you find yourself sitting on the edge of his bed before looking around. He had portraits of gods and goddess littered around the walls and the same kind of gold caddy like in the living room nestled in the corner underneath a statue of Eros. “The story of Eros and Psyche is boring. I’d rather pick something else to do.”
His admission calls your attention and you can’t help but look at his chest as he leans back on his hands. You have to literally rip your gaze away from him as he begins to smirk. “Boring? It’s a great love story.” He snorts loudly before putting his head back.
“It wasn’t how the story goes. Anyway, I don’t want to do that so can we please just find something else to do?” His tone holds a venom that makes you recoil within yourself before nodding shortly. “Sure.”
“Hades and Persephone?” You find yourself asking before looking back down at his chest. His skin looks so smooth, if you could only just-
“Some other group will surely do it. We have to do something unconventional and fun. But, nothing with Zeus because he’s a hoe.” You giggle at his joke before licking your lips and looking at his eyes as he winks at you. Your neck heats up and you can feel your ears begin to burn. Your eyes are drawn to his abs again and you clear your throat as your mind begins to get warped with intrigue.
“Can you put on a shirt, please?” It comes out a frail whisper and he tilts his head before chuckling.
“You can touch them if you want.” He grabs your wrist before putting them on his stomach. His skin is as smooth as you thought, you can feel his abs flex underneath your fingers and your bottom lip purchases between your teeth. Your fingertips press into the muscles and you can hear a strangled noise in the back of his throat, your stomach unfurls in need before you come back to your senses.
You rip your hand out of his grip before clearing your throat and looking at the Eros statue in the corner. “Please, put a shirt on.” He rubs your shoulder comfortingly before standing up, “Yes ma’am.”
You had both decided to work on Hephaestus and Aphrodite, working with Jeongguk was quite simple, actually. He was funny and told you funny stories that almost sounded real. You found yourself becoming incredibly comfortable with him throughout the evening you spent together. It made the image of him being a fuckboy seem almost impossible.
“Hephaestus isn’t as ugly as the books say, you know. One time when I was little, I sa- I heard that he looked like a monster but he’s just constantly covered in soot and grease from metalworking. Aphrodite is just never happy if she doesn’t get what she wants.” He mutters before biting the apple in hand. You hum playfully before stretching your legs out next to him as you both lean against the headboard of his bed. “You sure know a lot about these people.”
He smiles into his bite before pointing at your notebook. “We have a lot of material already. We can just chill if you like, you’re cool. I’d like to spend more time with you.” You blush at his admission before closing your notebook, “Sure.”
He looks at your wine glass before grabbing it and standing. “I’ll get you more Jimin juice.” You giggle before nodding. As he leaves a body walks by the door before stopping. “Oh? Human. Hello!”
He had silver hair and gold eyes as he wrinkled his nose at you. You swallow at his handsome features, a perfectly sculpted nose and strong jaw. You wave back at him as he smiles widely, the form almost resembling a box before Jimin stops next to him in the hallway. “This is Jeongguk’s brother. Anter- Taehyung! Taehyung!” Taehyung waves once more before clearing his throat.
“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” His head turns to his cousin and you find yourself blushing at his compliment. Jimin nods happily before turning to you. “You’re very welcome here, Psyche.”
Jeongguk arrives behind the two boys in his doorway and his jaw tightens, “Will you guys get lost please? And stop calling her Psyche.” He steps inside of the room, “She’s nothing like that fucking bitch. Get lost.” The door swings shut in their faces and you raise an eyebrow as he turns back around to you, black hair falling into his eyes. He smiles before handing you the glass of wine.
“Wanna watch Hercules?!” He asks cutely before jumping back on the bed, you sip the wine before giggling. “Sure.”
“It’s been a real slice.” Jeongguk mumbles along with Meg as you both stare at the television. You can’t help but snort as he side-eyes you. He was nothing like a fuckboy, you’ve decided this within the hour you’ve been watching the movie. “Why does everyone call you a fuckboy?”
He looks over at you before slinging his arm over your shoulders and pausing the movie. “Maybe because I’m really hot.” You blush as he squeezes your shoulder, his face moves closer to yours and you find your breath hitching in your throat. “Maybe because they're liars that just say I’ve fucked them to gain popularity.”
“B-But, you never stop them or tell them to stop.” Your voice sounds weak as he brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Why should I deprive someone of a fantasy? I’m not cruel. If every girl was like you then they would have gotten me.”
His stare is molten, his pupils blowing out as he looks down at your lips. The compliment makes your body stiffen before you’re ripping your gaze away from his. “You-You-” He pulls away before laughing gently, “Relax, Nemesis. I’m not trying to make you have a heart attack.”
You feel your palms begin to sweat as he takes the empty wine glass out of your hand. His thumb drifts across your cheek and you feel your body heat up underneath his touch. His tongue swipes across his lips before he’s turning back on the movie. “Pain and Panic are so annoying.”
You find yourself getting drowsy towards the end of the movie, your arms and legs dully whine as you move. You find your eyes fluttering shut as Hercules dives into the Underworld to save Meg. Jeongguk looks over at you as your eyes fully shut before wrinkling his nose. His hand reaches over quietly to the side drawer of his bedside table before grabbing a velvet bag. His fingers pinch the dust inside of it before gently blowing it at your face. “Dream well, pretty girl.”
He stands tall before stretching and looking at you, your hands press against your chest like a defense mechanism even in your sleep. He pulls the covers over you before opening the window. He whistles gently before looking over at your sleeping figure. “You’re not like Psyche. You would trust me, right?” Wings flutter drawing his attention back to the windowsill before leaning down as a rooster perches on the ledge.
“Tell Morpheus to send this one sweet dreams of me.” The rooster quirks its head to the side before bowing its head and flying off. The window is sealed shut before Jeongguk leans his back against the window and folds his arms. A smile spreads over your face as you sleep and he wrinkles his nose. He realized how much he did indeed like you, you were different. And, it’s been a very long time since he’s felt drawn to a woman. “Come to me, Y/N.”
Jeongguk throws himself on the couch before slinging his legs onto his brother's lap. “Very nice by the way Jimin, just call Taehyung Anteros in front of everyone, why don’t you?” Jimin rolls his eyes before pouring himself a glass of nectar.
“I slipped up, sue me. Anteros doesn’t come by every day, I forgot his Earth name. Maybe when Y/N comes out, I’ll slip up and call you Eros.” Jeongguk sneers at his cousin before relaxing into the couch. Taehyung smiles happily before sipping his own drink. “She’s sleeping? She seems very nice. Shy and sweet.”
Jeongguk watches how his brother's golden eyes dilate as he talks of you. “Watch it. She’s not for you.” Jimin laughs gently before sitting in the gold armchair next to them. “Seems like we’ll get a replay of Psyche.”
Jeongguk rolls his eyes before stretching his arms over the top of the couch. “Y/N would trust me, whereas Psyche did not. Don’t compare them, Y/N is different. She seems to not have an ill intentioned bone in her body.” Jimin hums before nodding, “She’s very nice. I agree. I heard the wings of Hermes earlier, what was he doing here?”
“I called on him.” Taehyung looks over at Jeongguk before raising an eyebrow. “Why?”
“For Morpheus to send her sweet dreams.”
“Of you?”
“Of me.”
Waking up wasn’t usually this difficult but you didn’t want to wake up from this dream. Your mind knew it was time to get up but you couldn’t help but will yourself to stay in this dream.
Laying upon a marble table in the middle of a field of wheat, your hands graze over Jeongguk as he straddles you. His smirk is broad as he hums gently. “You are a goddess.” His body bows down, chest and stomach muscles rippling as his full lips graze over your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut under the lavender sun. Your body singing with want as his hands run over your bare sides. You were completely bare underneath him and you felt no embarrassment, as if that emotion did not exist with this god above you. “You taste like berries from the Elysian Fields, so sweet.”
His lips leave small petals of pinks and reds on your skin as his hands cup your breasts gently. His hands knead them gently and you can’t help but hear birds begin to sing as his tongue flicks at your stiffening nipples. Your fingers card through his black locks before gasping as he suckles sweetly at your areola. Back bowing off of the marble table as he spreads your legs with his large hands.
Your eyes open to watch the god lavish upon you, his touch feels electric against your skin. Sending shockwaves of want to your core. His lips trail lower, eyes on yours as he nips playfully at the skin of your stomach. “Eros, want you.”
His eyes glimmer with amusement before licking across your bare pubic bone. “Do you now? You want me? Here?” His fingers caress your pussy lips and a mewl is coaxed from your lips. You feel your arousal dripping on to the marble table beneath you and you squirm underneath him. His chuckle has you whimpering as he bows his head back down. “So wet, Zeus above.”
He curses under his breath before licking a flat swipe over your folds. Your moans resound throughout the wheat field as his hands grip at your thighs. “Sweet like Ambrosia.”
His full lips suckle at your engorging clit, the tip of his tongue flicking it gently as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. “Look at me, goddess. Watch me.” His tone is commanding and your eyes snap to his as his pupils blow out with lust.
His suckles become stronger, your stomach beginning to tighten as a finger swirls around the ring of muscle of your sex. “Eros!”
“Yes, goddess?” His tongue is playful and as he lifts his head you can see your arousal coated on his chin and cheeks. The sight makes your eyes roll back as you lift your hips.
“More. Want more, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His finger enters you slowly, the full feeling making you whine as he gets back to work. You feel as light as air as he pumps his finger into you slowly, his tongue circling around your clit before flicking at a quick pace. Your moans fill the field as doves begin to fly overhead, lightning cracks above and you find yourself reaching the precipice of your pleasure.
Another finger is added as he expertly curls them within you, finding the soft patch of muscles that have your back lifting off of the table. “Guk! Jeongguk! Yes! Yes!” He moans against you, a gravelly wanton sound that makes your stomach tighten tighter. “Cum for me goddess, shower me in your pleasure.”
Your toes curl as your mind begins to get fuzzy, his name both Eros and Jeongguk pour from your lips as your eyes screw shut. “I'm cumming! Fuck! Eros!” As you fall over the edge, birds begin to sing louder. Your pleasure starts at your heart before spreading-
You jump awake, a sheen of sweat gracing your body. Your head feels fuzzy and heavy as you gasp gently at your surroundings. You fell asleep here?! Idiot! And, that dream...Fuck… That dream was… Something else. Your eyes find the Eros statue in the corner before narrowing at it. “Get out of my subconscious.”
You hear shuffling outside of the room door and you find yourself aware that you should not be here. How could you just fall asleep in Jeongguk’s bed?! Speaking of the god...man. Speaking of the man, where is he? You go to stand before feeling how soaked your panties are and you groan gently. How embarrassing!
As if he had heard your thoughts, the bedroom door opens revealing the handsome man you had just dreamed of. "Good morning, Nemesis." You watch as he lifts a cup to his lips, the veins in his arm protruding as he smirks against the lip of the cup. His coffee irises dance with delight as he looks upon your figure. You begin blushing, your mind reeling back to the dream that felt so intensely real. "I-I'm sorry I fell asleep!"
You stand up quickly, hands frantically trying to smooth out your hair as Jeongguk leans against the door jamb. "Oh no, it's cool watching Herc rescue his lover gets me sleepy sometimes too." You can't help but stare as his tongue sweeps across his lips. Thinking back to your dream, his tongue felt so amazing on the most intimate part of you. You grab your backpack off the floor before pulling at the hem of your dress.
"I'll-I'll get going. Sorry." He furrows his eyebrows before watching as you teeter on your feet awkwardly. "I can make you breakfast if you want."
His fingers curl around the cup and you swallow thickly as if you could feel them inside of you. "I have to go!" You shove past him, coffee spilling from the cup to his chest as you barrel towards the door.
"Y/N?" He calls confused as you grab your shoes from beside the door. "See you in class."
He takes in a deep breath before opening his mouth as you meet eyes once more. "Hey Y/N, wait-" You open the door quickly before scurrying out without another word. How could you have such a dream?!
Jeongguk scoffs gently as Jimin peeks out of the kitchen, "I made her Ambrosia buttered toast!" He wipes at his coffee covered chest before looking at his cousin. "Where's the key?"
Jimin sets the plate down gently before widening his eyes, "Key? No. No! Eros!"
His bare foot taps rapidly against the marble floor before holding out his hand as his jaw tightens. "Give me the key, Dionysus."
Jimin whines loudly before trudging out of the kitchen towards his room. "Aw man! My father is going to kill me when he sees my hair." He mumbles pushing past Guk to go to his room.
Both men stand at the end of the hallway, the gold key jumping from knuckle to knuckle as Jeongguk stands at the wooden closet door. “Any last words?” Jimin clears his throat before looking at his cousin.
“Maybe just forget about it?” He gives a nervous laugh, in turn Jeongguk rolls his eyes before putting the key in the lock. A large boom resounds throughout the apartment as he turns the key and Jimin whimpers before chugging the contents of his wine glass. The walls vibrate as if they’ve turned to jelly and he takes a deep breath before shoving open the door.
“Oh gods.” Jimin whines loudly sticking his head past the door frame as clouds make a staircase towards a ray of shining light. Jeongguk steps past the door frame before looking down at his clothes as they shimmer and change. The chiton that appears on his body is lightwear and the color of a white sheep. He sighs before looking at Jimin, who in turn, changes from his hoodie and sweatpants to a chiton the color of wine. “Oh fuck! Dude! Let’s just go back inside, hmm?”
“I need to speak with Morpheus, he fucked me over.” His cousin whimpers before the sounds of harpsichords begin to resound throughout the air. “They know we’re here anyway.”
Without a second thought he walks over the clouds, the white wisps licking at his ankles before disappearing all together, his foot raises before stepping onto the staircase and closing his eyes. “Here we go.”
Mount Olympus was bustling today, gods and goddesses walking around on the stone ground not giving a glance at the two boys as they crossed the gold gates. Jeongguk’s mouth opens, eyes lifting up to look at the scenery he hasn’t seen for years. Stone pillars litter the pantheon, temples and mansions as far as the eye could see. Stone slabs of jagged and large rocks hold up the floating islands far and wide and he finds himself folding his arms before smirking.
“I knew you would come!” The sound is melodic, the voice making him feel at home as his head turns to his mother. “Mother!”
She floats forward, hair pinned underneath a gold crown as she extends her flowing arms. Jeongguk’s heart swells before enveloping her in a hug and spinning her around. She smells of ambrosia and roses and he feels immediately comforted. She steps back before placing her hands on his handsome face, shaking him around before smiling widely. “My son.”
He hums as Jimin steps closer to him as a bolt of lightning ricochets through the sky. “Shit man.” Jimin holds out his hand before a goblet of wine produces and he guzzles the drink greedily as the white clouds begin to turn a dark grey. “Why have you come?”
Aphrodite’s voice is filled with glee as Jeongguk slings his arm over his mother's shoulders. “I must speak with Morpheus.” She hums playfully before pinching his chin and wiggling his face. “We like her, yes?”
Jeongguk chuckles before pulling her with him, leaving Jimin alone. “Yes, we like her. Quite a bit actually.”
“Eros! Wait up! Please!” Jeongguk chuckles before opening his arm as Jimin rushes to him. “Big bad Zeus is going to light up the sky until you go see him. He birthed you after all.” Aphrodite’s voice is playful as all three stop as Pegasus crosses their path.
“Nice to see you diaper wearing boy.” The deep voice is a welcome one as his eyes look up at Heracles mounted upon his horse. “Herc. Pleasure, I’m sure.”
“Bro! You gotta help me out! Dad is going to flip when he sees my hair!” Jimin calls to his brother before pulling at his blue strands. Heracles laughs loudly before holding out his hand to Jimin. “Get on, you’ve been summoned.”
With the stomp of his foot he grips the big hand before getting hauled on to the back of the winged horse. “Hey, Eros! One hour Olympus time, please!” He begs his cousin, wanting to get out of this realm as soon as possible.
Jeongguk chuckles as his mother smooths out his black hair, pinning it behind his ear. “That’s if you don’t get struck down first.” The horse flaps its wings before Jimin’s scream is heard as the horse takes off without a second thought.
Jeongguk walks along the roads with his mother, head bowing down to the gods and goddesses that’s eye contact lingers for more than a few seconds. He was the god of love, sexual attraction and desire after all. His hand reaches out for a ceramic vase, one only that could be crafted by the great Hephaestus before the sound of winged boots draws his attention to the clouded sky. “Hey you!”
“Hey yourself Hermes!” Aphrodite giggles gently before sitting down on a marble bench, legs crossing demurely as she leans back watching the interaction. Hermes appears, slowly floating off of the ground before pointing his staff at the god of love. “Morpheus is looking for you!”
“And I him. Care to lead the way?” Hermes hands him a pair of flying boots before looking at Aphrodite. “Well don’t you just look ravishing today. The Elysian Fields could not compare.”
“You flatter me, Hermes.” She produces a rose before handing it to the handsome trickster. Jeongguk tuts his tongue before narrowing his eyes at the man. “Easy now, that’s my gorgeous mother you’re trying to play with.”
He kisses his mother on the cheek before smiling, “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” She hums to him as he puts on the boots. His eyes widen before pointing at her as he begins to ascend into the air. “Stop coming around Y/N as a dove all the time. You’re making me look bad!” She gives him a gentle wave which he can only roll his eyes at before the winged shoes are taking him to his meeting.
The home of Morpheus never ceases to amaze Jeongguk. He’s not sure if it can even be called a home, honestly. A simple canopied bed sits high above the mansions on their own cloud petastools as he lands. His bed is cocooned within swirling white puffs of clouds and Jeongguk makes it a point to clear his throat in case the god of dreams was sleeping, which in fact would usually be the case. “Eros.”
He leans against one of the bed posts before folding his arms, “I have words for you god of dreams.” The laugh he hears makes him scowl as Morpheus sits up in his bed. “Words? For me? I did you a service.”
He scoffs loudly as he pushes himself off of the bedpost. “She ran away from me, any dream you gave the poor girl must have been a nightmare.”
“Hmm? The dream. Let me see.” The grey haired man’s eyes close, eyeballs rapidly moving behind his eyelids before the corners of his mouth begin to turn upwards. “I would not consider this a terrible nightmare. I’d like to be such a man or lady in this situation.”
Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow before holding out his hand, “Show me.”
Morpheus chuckles before a goblet of Ambrosia appears within his grasp. “I gave her the gift of a good dream and her mind created this. It is not untoward to think she scared herself.”
Jeongguk shakes his hand impatiently before hearing a sigh, Morpheus’ wings sprout from behind his back before cracking his neck and placing his hand atop the god of love. Jeongguk’s eyes closed as his head lolled back. His body shakes with pleasure before smirking at the dream as it flits across the inside of his eyelids. “Ah.”
His answer is short as he pulls away from the god before him. His hands smooth out his black hair, pinning it behind his ears before clearing his throat. “Send her more dreams, won’t you?”
Morpheus laughs loudly, his laughter mixing in with the crack of thunder as lighting bolts fly through the sky. Rain begins to scatter on the clouded ground and he can’t help but smirk. “Must hate the blue.”
“I’m sorry to waste your time. I had assumed she saw something very unpleasant within her dreams to run from me in such a way.” Morpheus chuckles before laying back down with his goblet. “Embarrassment and unpleasantness sit in two different houses underneath the sky.”
Jeongguk nods thoughtfully before looking back down at the pantheon below this high cloud. “I’ll be on my way now, Morpheus. Thank you for your time.” The grey haired man hums before closing his eyes as the winged boots begin to ascend into the air once more. “She’s got a gorgeous body.” Jeongguk murmurs to himself before flying towards the market place.
He walks through the stone street, hands behind his back as he looks at all of the stalls. A flash of light catches his eye before turning to a booth with a wide smile. “Theia.” She hums to him, sitting upon a marble bench with her ankles upon a stone stool. “Eros.”
He wrinkles his nose at her cutely and she sighs happily upon seeing his handsome face. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time, young man.”
His eyes glance over the jewelry she has laid out, “I’ve been in the mortal realm. Enjoying life down there.”
“And does Eros have a new love that shines as brightly as my jewels?” He smirks at her question before picking up a gold necklace. It shines brightly even with the drizzle of rain. Two gold chains wrap around each other, coiling gracefully and he tilts his head before looking up at her. “How much?”
“Five gold.” He nods before feeling at where his pants normally are and sighing. “Can you make an Eros pendant?”
Theia snaps her fingers and a gold pendant dangles from the necklace. He smiles at it before nodding, “That’ll be ten gold, dear boy.”
He nods before a woolen bag is thrown over his shoulder. He turns his head to his cousin who now graces black hair with a frown. “Can we go now?” He murmurs before giving Theia a small wave.
He turns back to Theia before nodding, “Before you go, why don’t you stop by Heras home. She could enchant that necklace for you.” He stops before tilting his head. It just wouldn’t be right to have the goddess of marriage charm this piece. If you want him, you’ll have him.
“That’s alright. She can make her own choices, thanks Theia!” She hums before letting out a low whistle. Her legs leave the stool before watching him saunter down the rain slick road. The necklace glimmers in his hand and she smirks before leaning back in her chair.
“Let’s go get you a glass of wine. Hmm?” Jimin nods gratefully as they cross the golden gates.
“I mean what the fuck do you even think you’re doing?! Hmm?!” You counter to yourself as you stare in the mirror of your bedroom. Your fingertip taps repeatedly against the glass as you scowl. “Uh! So what if he has a super hot fucking body and he’s really cool and sweet. Ha! Like that fucking matters. Because, news flash, idiot! It doesn’t! And, so what if he knows a lot about something that you have such a passion for?! HA! As if you’d fall for him because he has all these cute stories about y’know...Dionysus and Hephaestus…” You collect your breath as you change out of your clothes from yesterday before getting ready for class.
“I mean, y’know, too fucking bad that you had a dream where he ate you out like a champ...With his lips...trailing all over your body and birds were singing because he...he licked your clit so well...and his hair felt so soft in your-” You go wide eyed before fanning your now pink tinted cheeks. “GOD! WHATEVER SO FUCKING INFURIATING!”
You barrel towards the lecture hall, backpack to your chest for protection as your eyes flit across the green lawn. You were safe, all you need to do is make it into the lecture hall and ignore Jeongguk when he gets there. That’s it! You grumble as you stop to look at the weeping willow tree you’ve grown so fond of during your time at this university. The dove was sitting underneath it again today and you find yourself feeling guilty you didn’t spend any time with it. You wave at it with a small smile and you hear him before anything else.
His laugh is loud, a sound that you want to revel in and yet, you shrink in form before jogging over to the tree and pressing your back to it. You can hear girls giggling at what he says and you scowl before looking down at the dove. “He must really think he’s like Eros or something, huh? No wonder people call him a fuckboy if he’s so easily amused with girls.” The bird sits down, head tilting to the side as your back slides down the tree. The beady stare makes you swallow thickly before scoffing, “I’m not jealous. Don’t even think that!”
You point at the bird before frowning. This is called projecting and you’re doing a great job at it at this very second. “Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he has to talk to every person he sees. God, he knows what he does to people! So annoying.” Your voice tapers off into a murmur as you recall your dream. The way his tattooed hands caressed your body and showed you such attention. The way his tongue flic-
“Who’re we hiding from?” You gasp loudly as you fall over. You look up at him as he smiles widely at you, “Hi, Nemesis.”
“H-Hi, Jeongguk.” He holds out his hand and you take in his attire before grabbing it. His leather jacket, his ripped black skinny jeans, even the earrings that dangle from his ears suit him so well you find the wind being pulled from your lungs. He lifts you up easily and you find comfort in his smell. “I was going to make you breakfast this morning. Why’d you leave?”
You clear your throat as his arm slings over your shoulder, you find it bizarre how comfortable he feels beside you. “I-I… You know… Had to feed my cat and wash my...toes.” Very cool. You’re amazing at this.
“How hygienic of you.” He snickers before putting his index finger under your chin and pulling your face to look at him, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your sleep, now would it?”
Your cheeks burn at his question before shrugging his arm off of your shoulder. “Of course not! You’re ridiculous!” Your scoff echoes throughout the lawn and he chuckles before nodding. “Yes, goddess.”
You freeze at his words before pressing your backpack closer to your chest, “Jeongguk! Could I get your number?” Your head turns to a few girls as you both approach the lecture hall building.
He smirks before slinging his arm around your shoulder, “Sorry. Busy. Got a goddess to take to class.” You smack at his hand as it squeezes your shoulder. “Come on, Nemesis.”
Sitting down at your table, you can’t help but feel your stomach coil as he scrapes his chair closer to you. The scent of pine invades your senses and you find yourself smiling as he places an apple on the table in front of you. “I brought something to impress you.”
Your eyebrow quirks up as he puts a notebook with a bow on the front cover onto the table. He smiles widely and you can’t help but giggle as he folds his arms. “This is to impress me?” He gives a small nod before opening up the page.
Will you hang out with me again?
The words catch your attention and you close the notebook cover quickly as people take their seats behind you. “Jeongguk!” Your voice is a whisper as he bites his apple. He wipes at his chin before nodding at the book.
“I want to show you something.”
“What?” You can feel the excitement radiating through your bones, as Professor Song enters the room. Butterflies begin to erupt within you as he smiles widely wrinkling his nose. “You’ll really like it. Hey, do you...have a pen?”
“You’re just going to go over there and not be a baby.” You whisper to the mirror before stomping rapidly on the floor with your foot. Your eyes peer over at the bed, flitting between the two outfits you have casually laid out for your date. No! Not date! Hang out! You’re both hanging out! You sit on the floor, head leaning back against the door before Artemis climbs into your lap. “I think I really like him.” You whisper to your cat as she curls into a ball within your lap.
“He’s not like how I thought he was at all and my heart keeps doing this stupid thing where it stops and I feel like I’m dying.” You whisper fiercely to the cat as her paw extends over your calm lazily. She yawns loudly and you scoff gently, “No yawning while I’m spilling my heart to you!”
You lift her up before looking into her sleepy eyes. “I think I really like him and I’m not afraid of it. It’s freaking me the fuck out!” She closes her eyes before you press the cat into your chest. Thinking back to all your moments spent with him, you can feel those butterflies again. Flying around without a care as a smile begins to grace your face. “I’m not afraid and it’s freaky.”
You wore something prettier for this hang out. You listened to your heart instead of your head for once and you were impressed with the outcome. Your hair falls in rivets around your shoulder before you knock on his door. “It’s open.”
Your hand turns the knob before being greeted by the familiar golden fixtures around you. “Y/N!” Jimin yells loudly as he throws his arms up, wine sloshes onto his bare chest as you giggle at him.
“Hi Jimin!” You give a small wave as Adoneus rubs his head against your thigh. “Hi!” You crouch down to rub at his head and he purrs loudly for you.
“Wine for the prettiest human alive?” He goes to stand before Jeongguk’s bedroom door opens. “Come, Nemesis. Leave the drunk alone for a while.”
“Nice hair by the way.” You comment as a dove perches on Jeongguk’s shoulder. Jimin frowns before folding his arms, “My dad made me do it.”
His grumble makes you smile as your lab partner enters the room first. He sits on the bed and you can’t help but think to yourself how truly comfortable you feel as you sit down next to him. His black hair is pushed behind his ears as he turns his head to you. “Want to go to a party?”
You frown before looking into his eyes, “A party? I’m not dressed for a party.” He hums before clearing his throat.
“I can help with that, actually. It isn’t a regular party per se. It’s more of a...family gathering.” He wants to take you to a family event? You fold your arms before raising an eyebrow as you let him continue.
“You know how I um...I always talk like I know the gods and goddesses?” You nod slowly, your mind becoming confused as you clear your throat. “Hey, Dionysus?! She’ll need some wine.”
You blink slowly before Jimin appears in the doorway in a flash. He smiles at you before holding out his empty hand. You step forward to take it, confused at the meaning before his hand shimmers and a goblet appears. You choke on your own spit, coughing loudly as you back up into the window.
“Jeongguk!” Your voice is high as your hands grip at the gold ledge of his window. “Yes, goddess?”
“He-Jimin! He-” Jimin giggles before stepping into the room and you are two seconds away from ripping open the window and flinging yourself out of it. “He’s my cousin Dionysus.”
Your gaze flickers between the two handsome men before a psychotic giggle begins to erupt in your throat. Your hands find your knees as your laugh grows louder, eyes watering as you fall to the ground. “Y/N.” Jeongguk’s voice is gentle as you shake your head.
“It’s mythology! MYTH! This is not real?! What’re you insane!?” Your giggles go dead as the dove lands on the ground in front of you before the image begins to ripple. The bird becomes a tall Asian woman with chestnut brown hair and gold eyes. You swallow thickly before wiping at your face in shock.
“This is my mother.” Jeongguk grumbles gently, Jimin rounds his mother before grabbing your hand and putting the goblet into it. “Drink it, you’ll need it.”
“Well, isn’t she just a doll.” The woman's fingers pinch at your cheeks and you feel your body begin to feel tingles at her touch.
“Mother, please do not embarrass me.” She scoffs before helping you to your feet. “I’m Aphrodite, a pleasure to meet you. My son really enjoys spending time with you.” You gasp, mouth falling open before looking at Jeongguk as his eyes squeeze shut.
You feel as if you’re in a dream, the world beginning to feel flat besides the three people in this room. Two of them who just so happen to be part of the twelve Olympian Gods! You bring the goblet to your lips before chugging it as Aphrodite giggles. “She’s funny.”
“Let me refill that for you.” Jimin snaps his fingers before your goblet is refilled and you set it down gently before rubbing your hands together. “Okay, she gets it. Can you guys just… shoo? Please?” They hum before Aphrodite kisses your cheek.
"You're very welcome. I hope to see you on high." She winks before leaving with Jimin. Your eyes widen as Jeongguk leans back on the bed. "Surprise?"
You scoff before looking at the door then back at him. Then at the door. Then him. Your finger moves with your head to both places before scoffing again. "Let me truly introduce myself. I'm Eros." The god of sexual desire and love. You swallow before fanning your face as you let out a short laugh.
"Y/N?" His tone is gentle as he stands up tall.
"It's real?! Like, you're a god?!" He hums before snapping his fingers, his casual attire turns into a royal looking chiton. He looks like everything good in this world and you find yourself clearing your throat as your eyes falter to the floor. "So you...your stories were real?! You're from Mount Olympus?!"
He opens his arms with a small smile before nodding. "Yes, Olympus is my home."
This is incredible! Astounding even! To be in the presence of a god is...unreal. "I wanted you to see me for me. I like you. Quite a bit, in fact. I thought you would understand."
He likes you?! Truly?! You hum unsurely before looking at the Eros statue in the corner and squeeze your eyes shut. "Nemesis?" Your eyes flicker to his before looking away once more.
He approaches you, hands grabbing at your arms before rubbing them gently. You feel the tingles again, you rip your arms from his before shrinking under his warm gaze. "I can make you forget this if you want...I don't want you to be afraid of me."
You weren't! You were just in shock. Completely and utterly lost not knowing what to do. "I just...need some time." He opens his mouth before nodding slowly. "Whatever you'd like, goddess." His words make you shiver and you feel your body go numb.
"I-I have a gift for you. If you'd accept it of course. I bought it from my aunt Theia. She's the goddess of-"
"Light but also the deity of gold, silver and jewels." You finish his statement and his smile makes your heart feel light as he nods. "Yes. I bought you a present if you would accept it."
His hands press into one another before light begins to seep out of the cracks. You stare in awe at his hands before he opens them to a glorious gold necklace. "Will you accept?" Your head nods stupefied before you can even think properly. He chuckles before stepping behind you.
The gold chain and pendant are chilly against your skin but as he clasps it tightly you feel like it has always belonged on you. "I need time to think."
He hums to you before hugging you from behind, "Don't run from me Nemesis, please. I like you, very much. There will be time for my family parties in the future, I hope."
Once safely inside your apartment, your body slides down the apartment door. You let out a screech before stomping the heels of your feet on the floor. “OH MY GOD!” You squeal loudly before looking up at the ceiling. This is absolutely insane! No wonder he was so fucking handsome, he was literally born from the goddess of love and beauty! And, he likes you. You! He wasn’t like how people said he is at all. Well, that is for the simple fact that they don’t know him at all! All of his fun sounding stories make them that much more incredible because they’re real. He was honestly, so kind and funny.
He wasn’t like most people and there’s one good reason for that. He wasn’t a person, he was from on high which continues to rattle your brain. You can’t find the strength in yourself to stand so you opt for crawling. Which you feel blessed to have acquired a single bedroom apartment without the need for a roommate. Would be embarrassing if someone was watching you crawl towards your bed as your cat waltzes along with you. “He’s a fucking god.” You tell your cat who in turn knocks her head into your jaw as she rubs against you. “I know! So insane!”
Laying in bed you flip your phone from one hand to the other before touching the gold necklace on your neck that you never wanted to take off ever again. It came from Mount Olympus but just knowing that while Guk was up there, he thought of you and that makes it even more special. He likes you and he wants you to spend time with him. You like him and want to spend more time with him too. Your tongue swipes across your lips before unlocking your phone. Your lungs fill with air before exhaling loudly.
9:12 You: Eros.
9:13 Hades: Goddess.
You giggle to yourself before your phone falls from your hands, smacking you in the face. You whine loudly before rubbing at your cheek as you type to him.
9:14 You: I’m done thinking.
9:14 Eros: Oh? Are you? And what does this goddess think?
9:15 You: I like you too.
Your heart begins to beat loudly, the sound filling your ears as you gasp gently. Was that wrong? Did you do the wrong thing?
You stare at your phone on the pillow beside you, eye twitching as your phone screen still stays black. You whine loudly before pressing your face into the pillow. Of course it was a dumb idea. He probably has a bunch of women, goddesses even, that adore him.
9:30 Eros: Fuck! I’m so sorry! Dionysus spilt wine everywhere, broke the fucking vase that Hephaestus made us and I had to clean it up!
You grab your phone before reading his message and smiling.
9:31 You: A vase? Where do I get a god crafted vase? I want one.
9:32 Eros: Your wish is my command, goddess.
Your doorbell goes off and you jump at the noise before tilting your head. “Hello?” Your voice is loud, echoing throughout the apartment before standing up.
“Delivery for Y/N.” The voice calls through the door. You exit the bedroom before opening the door. A man in an all brown ensemble stands before you, he has a winged shoe medallion hanging from his neck as he blows a bubble with his gum. “Hermes nice to meet you, doll face. Here.”
He thrusts the box at you before popping the bubble of gum. “H-Hermes, like the god of messages?” Your voice comes out in a squeak as he winks at you. “In the flesh. Sign here.”
You stammer on a few syllables before setting the box down and grabbing the clipboard. “Like, actually Hermes?” He nods slowly before tapping the clipboard and blowing another bubble. Your eyes glance over his attire before clearing his throat.
“Listen, Eros’ new girlfriend, I got stuff to do. Hmm? I have three people I have to guide to the Underworld in like twenty minutes so-” He taps the clipboard, “-sign the sheet so Eros doesn’t murder me in my sleep.”
You clear your throat before signing the sheet attached to the clipboard and handing it back to him. Eros’ new girlfriend? You blush brightly before pushing your hair behind your ear. “Nice to meet you, Hermes.” The blush that graces your cheeks makes him chuckle as he pulls a packet of gum from his pocket and hands you a stick. “Nice to meet you, too kid. You watch out for that diaper wearing Cupid okay? He’s got a fragile heart.”
You nod slowly as he snaps his fingers before vanishing into thin air, small flecks of gold rain down from where he was standing and your mouth opens wide before a squeal leaves you. You grab the box before trudging back into the apartment and into your bedroom. The box is heavy and with a groan you haul it onto your bed. Your fingers begin to twitch with excitement, eyes widening before hugging the box to your chest. Wow! Jeongguk is actually the coolest person you’ve ever met. Coolest god, you’ve ever met. Only god. Anyway.
You open the box before staring inside. Just the rim of the vase exuded richness and you find yourself carefully pulling it out of the box before staring at it. Beautifully glazed clay with the faces of the twelve Olympian gods stamped on the base. “Holy shit.”
Where would you even put this beautiful thing? Your phone buzzes loudly and you set the vase down gently before scrambling for your phone.
9:41 Eros: Do you like it?
9:41 You: UH YES! THANK YOU!
9:42 Eros: Haha! Anything for you, goddess. See you tomorrow!
9:43 You: Goodnight.
You did it again. You had a super sexual dream about your lab partner slash crush slash god. And, honestly, when you woke up you weren’t the least bit insecure. “He finds me attractive.” You tell your cat as you comb your hair in the mirror as you get ready for class. The cat blinks at you slowly before laying down.
“He likes me. Me! Can you believe it?! I mean, I’m not even that special or great or anything and he has a crush on me!” You scoff to yourself before smiling. You look at the time before jumping up, Aphrodite might be waiting underneath the weeping willow today.
You rush to the weeping willow only to see an Asian woman sitting down on what seems to be a blanket made of silk. You were so excited to get here and now that you are, you can feel yourself becoming smaller as she looks over at you. “Come! I’ve been waiting for you.”
You give her a shy smile before walking over and standing awkwardly next to the silk blanket. She looks up before smiling warmly and patting the spot next to her. “I don’t bite, come. Sit.”
You clear your throat gently before sitting down beside her and putting your hands in your lap. She hums before folding her legs beneath her and smiling. She holds out her hand and a golden hairbrush appears. “Well now, I like being able to spend time with my son's beloved.” You open your mouth to reply as she sections off your hair before combing through it. Her tone is gentle before she snaps her fingers and an apple falls into your lap.
“I really love these.” She wrinkles her nose sweetly as you take a bite. “Good, I’m glad you enjoy them. Do you also enjoy spending time with my son?”
Your teeth sink into the apple before stopping at her question. The back of your hand swipes across your lips before looking back at her. “Yes, I do… Is that wrong?”
She laughs gently before shaking her head. Her hand sends electrical currents through your body as she swipes her thumb over your cheek. “Not at all, little one. I just have grown so protective of him after the whole business with Psyche.” You hum before folding your arms. You recall his anger every time she was brought up and you can’t help but question why. “What happened?”
Aphrodite tuts her tongue as she continues to comb through your hair. “I think Eros should be the one to tell you. He was so heartbroken for so long and then he met you. You seem to make him smile and feel as light as air again and I do enjoy seeing him so happy.” You feel yourself beginning to blush at her admission before hugging your backpack to your chest. Her eyes flicker to your necklace before smirking, her fingertips dance over the gold before sighing happily.
“I hear a grumpy boy coming.” She whispers as if she is spilling a big secret.
“Mother.” Jeongguk’s voice is clipped and you find yourself smiling at him as he narrows his eyes at the situation at hand. “Son.”
“What’re you doing?” His voice is riddled with tension before giving you a sweet smile. His eyes narrow back at his mother as she clears her throat. “Just combing Y/N’s hair.”
“Why?” He questions before holding his hand out to you. You make no move from the goddess as she sets down the hairbrush.
“Because I wanted to. Because I like her. Is that so wrong?” He rolls his eyes before shaking his hand and you look over at her as she nods. “Go on, little one. He’s in no mood to fool around today.”
You take his hand before bowing to her as he slings his arm over your shoulders. “It was very nice to see you again, goddess.” She giggles before nodding. “The pleasure is mine. I look forward to seeing you on high.”
“Zeus above.” Jeongguk mutters before pulling you away. You give her a small wave and his hand physically turns your head to look in front of you. “Don’t be so mean! She’s the goddess of beauty!”
He chuckles gently before ruffling your hair, “Yeah well, I’m the god of sexual desire and you don’t see me begging for women to suck me every minute of the day.” You smack his hand over your shoulder as he laughs loudly.
“Come on, goddess.” As you enter the building you look over at his other shoulder, the strap of a backpack hangs loosely on his leather jacket and you point at it. “You’re wearing a backpack.”
He hums before looking down at you, “To impress you. And! I even brought a pen today.” You laugh as you both enter the lecture hall.
Being with Jeongguk is amazing. There’s no other way to describe it. He makes your knees weak and your heart explode into a million stars that could paint the galaxy. You find yourself wanting to spend every minute with him. Not just because he’s a god, of course. Because, he’s genuinely an interesting person that you feel comfortable around. He does sweet things for you when you don’t even ask him to and he always puts you first. He hasn’t even deemed you his girlfriend yet and he acts as if you’re his wife. It’s very comfortable with him and you wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Then one time I accidentally ran into Herc as he was fighting a titan and I got shoved off of the pantheon. Hermes had to come and save me as I was falling.” Jeongguk mumbles as you lay next to each other in his bed. He snaps his fingers before pointing as the image on the ceiling changes. “That’s my mother and father's house.”
Your eyes drift to the marble mansion before looking at a mansion beside it on it’s own floating stones. “Whose house is that one?” He hums before snapping his fingers as the ceiling goes dark. “Mine.”
You furrow your eyebrows at his short tone. “You don’t sound very happy about it.” He snorts before drinking some wine, “Yes well, not many good things happened there.”
“Oh?” You sit up in his bed, legs folding underneath you as he looks over at you. His hair falls into his eyes as he gives you a small smile. “Psyche lived there, too.”
Ah. “What’s up with that story? It always seemed like it had a happy ending.” He gives a quick laugh before setting down his goblet and grabbing your hands. “It really, really doesn’t.”
“Care to talk about it?” He groans before sitting up and leaning against the headboard. His arms cross before his head lolls backwards. “I mean, do you wish to hear about my tryst with another human? Besides you?”
You shrug before putting your hands underneath your chin, “You like me, right?”
“Gods yes. More than you know. You’re so refreshing and sweet.” You smile at his compliment as his head tilts towards you, tongue running over the inside of his cheek. “Then you can tell me, I won’t be jealous. I’m here with you, in this bed.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle before closing his eyes, “You’re really something different, huh? Fine. Hold my hands.”
You put your hands in his before closing your eyes. You see her now, Psyche, her beauty was breathtaking. She was married to Eros, an arranged marriage that she had been forced into. She sat alone in a magnificent castle, gold columns, floors made of jewels and silver lined the walls. She was suspicious then, and an empty house welcomed her.
“I was never home, I was always out with my brother and Dionysus.”
She waited patiently for her husband to return home, laying in the large gold bed, eyes screwed shut. Then he appeared out of gold mist, he lays down behind her whispering sweet nothings into her ears and her face becomes passive. You feel your heart clench and your stomach roll before inhaling deeply through your nose.
Jeogguk’s hands clenched tighter onto yours, “Shall I stop?”
“No.”
Days pass and you can tell just how truly happy Psyche is. But, you can see her pain, too. You can see the way her eyes fill up with tears as she walks the halls of the large castle alone. You can hear her call out to her sisters and family members, her sweet voice bouncing off of the silver walls. She relays how much she misses them, how lonely she is. How she doesn’t want them to suffer because of her.
That night, as she lays in bed, he reappears behind her. Jeongguk’s body shimmers as he clutches her tightly. She asks him if her family can come up to the castle and see her, to know she is alive and well. He denies her but when he hears her whimper out of sadness he grants her that favor. He warns her though, to not let her sisters influence her mind or their relationship will crumble. She agrees to this before falling asleep.
The next day, her two sisters arrive with the grace of Hermes. The three sisters hug and cry with one another, happy to be together again. Upon entering the castle though, the sisters are too deeply amazed with what they see. How the floor is engrained with jewels and all of the expensive trinkets that litter the halls. Envious they question their sister throughout dinner, asking her who her husband is to have such wonderful treasures.
You can hear yourself gasp gently and Jeongguk lets out a bitter laugh, “I know. Keep watching it gets fucking better.”
Psyche tells them he is a young handsome hunter, that of which they do not believe. The sisters look across to each other at the dinner table before subtly nodding, their jealousy overtaking their minds as they make a pact to hurt their sister. As they say their goodbyes they whisper words of warning to Psyche. Telling her that her husband is an awful snake from the oracle Dephi. That this is the reason why he doesn’t allow her eyes to ever grace his face, he is an ugly wicked beast.
They had warped her mind like Jeongguk had warned her of. She speaks to herself in the day, alone in the castle. Asking herself why he does not come in the day and why he does not let him see her. He must be hiding something horrendous and she would shine a light in his face that night to see if he is a horrendous snake. And, if he is she will kill him. If not, she will go back to sleep peacefully.
“Psyche!” You find yourself whining and Jeongguk smirks before opening his eyes and staring at you. You are completely engrossed in the memories you watch and he runs his thumb over the back of your hand before tilting his head. You weren’t like this woman who he is showing you, you are someone far better than he could ever hope for. He feels lucky to have gotten to know you and in this luck, he wants to push it farther. He wants to know you forever.
Jeongguk sleeps peacefully and you watch as Psyche grabs the candle with a shaky breath.
“Don’t do it, idiot. He’s Eros!” Jeongguk chuckles gently before kissing the back of your hands.
Psyche’s face reveals great relief as the candle shines upon his handsome face. She falls to her knees and thanks the gods for this handsome man before her. As she leans against him a drop of oil falls from the head of the candle before burning Jeongguk’s back. He wakes up, pain written all over his face before looking at his wife as she thanks the gods. He scoffs, hand reaching to his back before standing and leaving without a word. Distrust is written over his features as he puts on his chiton.
Psyche runs after him as he descends the stairs of the castle, she hears his voice on the wind loud and clear as he tells her love cannot live without trust. She falls at the highest step of the castle stairs before wailing loudly.
You tut your tongue before frowning and you feel a tear squeeze past your shut eyes. “What an idiot.”
She cries on the doorstep for days, her body turning frail before deciding she would look everywhere for him and regain his love.
Jeongguk opens his eyes once more before wiping his thumb over your tear stained cheek.
Psyche goes to the temple of Aphrodite, praying to the goddess to give her back her husband. She begs the goddess to talk to her son and come back to her. She tells Psyche that she must be certain she is right for Eros, since she can distrust so easily. She tasks Eros’ wife with three tasks and if she does not complete them then he will be gone from her forever. Of course, Psyche agrees.
“Wait for it.” You hear Jeongguk’s voice whisper smugly before he is kissing at the back of your hands once more.
The goddess shows Psyche a mountain of different seeds. She tells her to separate the seeds before noon or she will never see Eros ever again. The goddess is gone in a shower of golden dust. She wails loudly as she separates the seeds knowing she would never have the time to complete the task. As she continues her task, a group of ants begin to pass by before deciding to help the crying woman. The seeds were then separated into smaller mounds that Psyche deemed acceptable. When Aphrodite saw these mounds she became angry and made Psyche sleep in the field.
“My mother can be a bitch sometimes.” You giggle at his statement before paying attention to the scene behind your eyelids.
The next morning Aphrodite comes back to the field, with a horrendous task. She points to a river as it flows freely over a large hill. The water is pitch black, abhorrent and running quickly. She tells Psyche to fill a jug with the water.
“Damn, Aphrodite. She could get hurt.” You mumble to yourself as your teeth nip at your bottom lip. “You aren’t watching a movie, goddess. You’re watching my life.” Jeongguk jeers before running his hand over your hair.
Psyche reaches the waterfall before discovering just how sharp and jagged the rocks. The black water was slippery and only a winged animal would be able to cross the rapids easily. An eagle flies Psyche to the waters after watching her fail several attempts out of sympathy for the still weeping woman. Aphrodite tells Psyche that she would not have passed without having help. She demands the weeping woman of yet another service, telling her she can prove herself to be as determined as she claims to be.
“Whoa. Aphrodite was on a rampage.” The god before you hums playfully, “She was angry that Psyche was beautiful, quite like she is, she has since grown up.”
Aphrodite gave Psyche a box, telling her to go to the Underworld and ask Persephone to drain her beauty into the box as a gift for the goddess of beauty. Obediently, Psyche to the road to Hades. Crying for two days and two nights before getting gates. She got onto a boat, one that was made of bones and leather as it crossed the river where the dead used to leave. She gave gold to the boatman, Charonte, to help her find her way to the dark palace of Persephone.
“Where’s Cerberus?” You whisper as your eyes squeeze tighter at the dim lighting of the Underworld. Guk chuckles before brushing his lips against your cheek as his forehead presses to your temple. “Cerberus lives with Hades in his palace. Persephone has her own. You know she can’t stomach him.” You open your mouth gently before nodding. Another story for another day, perhaps.
After a day of travelling, Psyche finds Persephone. She begs the queen of the dead to drain her beauty into the box for Aphrodite. Which, the queen does willingly because it was so asked by the goddess of beauty. She would always be glad to serve Aphrodite. With this third task done, Psyche travels back up to the surface before giving Aphrodite the box. Upon opening it, the goddess of beauty’s skin turns black as night, eyes turning bright red out of anger. She swears to keep Psyche a slave forever and never let her go.
You whistle before flinching as Aphrodite flies into the air leaving Psyche alone in the field. Vines grow tall around her imprisoning her as she cries out for help from Eros. Upon hearing her cries the gods and goddesses tell Eros, who has locked himself away due to heartbreak, all of the unjust things his mother has done.
“Here we go.” He mumbles to you before pulling you into his chest.
He flies down to Psyche before enveloping her into a hug, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and promising to never leave her side. They return to the palace before long and he promises to stay around forever. Their days turn into weeks and their happiness is unending. And yet, Psyche still talks to herself, mumbling that he is a snake underneath the handsome god's skin. He planned all of this to happen, he set his mother upon him to give her these terrible tasks. Her skin begins to turn pail as the light in her irises dim. She swears at him, shoving him away as if he is a demon. He tries to hold her, to calm her but she becomes mad. Raving and ranting as her long nails scratch and dig at his skin. He begins to bleed, tears of gold leak from his eyes.
You feel yourself begin to cry as you watch him writhe in pain. He brings you closer burying your face into his chest as your hands grip tighter at his. “I’m alright, goddess. I’m okay.”
She wishes death upon him, begging him to leave her be in the big palace by herself. She couldn’t bear to look at him as if he had wronged her in every way known to man. His body crumbles before long, knees cracking and splintering the brilliantly gemed floor as he weeps for her. She spits at him, grabbing a knife off of the wall before holding it to his neck. He begs her not to kill him, he tells her how ardently he loves her and yet, she leaves him alone in the palace as he falls to the floor wailing. He lays there as the days turn to night and night turns to day.
He pulls his hands from yours before hugging you tightly to his body. You sob against his chest and he coos gently as his hands run over your hair. “W-What happened to her?” His lips press to your hairline before picking your face up and brushing your tears away with his thumbs.
“She is a mistress of Hades.” You sniffle before sobbing again and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “You’re even beautiful when you cry.”
You smack his hands away before whimpering and he merely chuckles before kissing your forehead. “Don’t cry, goddess. I’m over it, it was a long time ago.”
You rub at your face, chafing your skin with your sleeves before sniffling, “Have you ever loved after that? Did you ever find someone?” He tilts his head before smiling, his finger booping your nose before chuckling.
“I have indeed.” You look up at him as he shakes the hair from his face. His coffee irises gleam with delight as he tuts his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “What was her name?”
Your voice is a whisper in the expanse of his room as he curls his hands around the Eros pendant you were vigilantly. “She sits before me. On my bed. Rubbing the skin off of her face as she cries for my past loves.”
You stiffen as he smiles lazily, his head presses against the headboard before sighing gently. He loves you? Him? This impeccable being? You can’t seem to think as your heart begins to pick up speed. Jittery nervous course through your veins as your lungs restrict. “Y-You love me?”
He hums gently before nodding, “I do, goddess. Very much.”
Your body lifts itself up before throwing yourself on to him. He grunts gently before laughing as you wrap your arms around his golden skin, his large hands caress at your cheeks before wrapping a hand around your neck.
“I do indeed.” He kisses you gently. The feeling of his lips makes goosebumps produce on your skin as you gasp gently. Your hairs stand on end as your body begins to vibrate at his touch. Your eyes open wide as his skin begins to glow before you and as you pull away you can see yours doing the same. He groans gently before flipping you over and kissing you as if his life depends on it. Your heart rate soars, the sound resounding in your ears as your fingers tangle into his long hair.
He moans against your lips, a sound so carnal your hips are lifting off of the bed at his touch. “Goddess.” He whispers gently as his lips trail across the skin of your jaw. You whimper at how deep his voice has gotten as lust enshrouds him.
You pull at his hair gently as his hands begin to knead at your thighs. “Goddess. I cannot do anything with you until you are my wife.” You pull at his head, scoffing as he kisses down your neck. Lips plucking gently at your skin before sitting up.
“What?! Guk! Fuck me!” He chuckles gently before leaning back on his heels. You eye his erection, how it strains against the fabric of his sweatpants before reaching for it. He grasps your wrist gently, his touch is electric sending tingles through you as he shakes his head. “I cannot do a thing with you until you are on high.”
You narrow your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve made a promise to my mother, goddess. If I do not abide by the promise I will burst and no longer exist.” Your jaw drops open before sitting up. “Wow.”
He hums before looking down at his sweatpants and running both of his hands through his hair. “I will wait for the day you accept me.”
After that telltale night, you find yourself falling in love with the god that gives you everything so willingly. He’s become such a large part of your life that you can’t seem to help always wanting to be around him. The Graceful Gods project was due tomorrow and you yet again are in his bed as the pen cap sits snugly between your teeth. “What else should we add to it?”
Jeongguk looks up from the notebook before yawning and lying down, “Nothing. For the fiftieth time. Just lay down with me and let's sleep.” He opens up his arms and you pout before flailing the book in front of his face. “You’re already a god, I need to complete this so I get a good grade and graduate with honors.”
He smirks before pulling at your arm. Your body lands on top of his and he hums to himself happily. You both lay quietly for a moment before he lifts his head. “Move in with me.”
“Where, in here? Where we can hear-” You point to the sky before hearing loud moans ricochet through the apartment. He chuckles before pressing his hands to your ears playfully. “No, to Olympus. Move in with me.”
The book falls from your hands as he offers you such a thing. To move into his palace in the sky?! You squeak gently as his hand runs over your back. “I love you and I want you to spend your days with me.”
You do love him. You’ve never loved anyone more than him. Well, come to think of it he’s the only one you’ve ever truly loved. A love that shakes up your heart and you would give your life for him gladly if you needed to. It was a pure love, built from nothing but apples and vases. But, it was a love of your own that had your heart soaring.
“After we complete the project. I will.” You promise him. He smiles widely, so widely you’re afraid his skin will crack before his lips are on yours. His kiss is filled with ardor, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss as you both begin to glow in the dim lighting of his gold coated bedroom. He kisses you until all of the breath is stolen from the both of you. His hands run over your sides before putting his forehead to yours. “So.. the project, you wanted to add something else?” He whispers before hooking his chin over your shoulder. You giggle quietly before throwing the notebook on the floor and kissing him once more.
“You’ve done exceptionally well, which is surprising to me because Jeongguk seems to show as little interest in Greek mythology as I do when my wife continuously packs me cheese sandwiches for lunch.” Professor Song mumbles before throwing the sandwich on to his desk. You stand beside the man you love, head bowed down as you await your grade. “Very interesting how you formed the bond between Aphrodite and Hephaestus as a working love and not one made of anger like the books usually show. I was rather captured by it.”
You smirk as well as the god next to you. You can recall sitting underneath the weeping willow as Aphrodite brushed your hair telling you the tales of her marriage with her not so handsome husband as you wrote diligently into your notebook. “I do enjoy the hard facts, although what could be so hard about them when they’re fiction.”
Jeongguk smirks beside you before pressing his fist to his lips. “But I also enjoy how you made them feel like real people. As I said before I was captured by it. You both get an A.” Your eyes shoot up to Professor Songs before you’re squealing and wrapping your arms around your partner. He hugs you tightly before chuckling as you jump up and down excitedly. “You get to graduate with honors, Y/N. Congratulations. I’m sure this really has given you excitement.”
You thank him generously, having to be pulled out of the lecture hall by your boyfriend as you continue to jump up and down. His lips press to your forehead and you feel your body light up, your nerve ending jumping and vibrating at his touch. "Come with me, goddess. I’ve waited too long for this day."
His house is empty when you arrive, you can hear rain pattering against the windows. Adoneus sits patiently in front of the Dionysus statue before perking up at the sight of you. "You know when it rains, Zeus is angry or emotional about something. Since Jimin is not here, he must have done something to upset his father."
You giggle at his words before watching as he snaps his fingers. Your clothes ripple before changing and your jaw drops as you feel the rich fabric against your skin. The peplos falls in rivets and you find your fingers feeling the silken fabric. “Beautiful.”
His attire changes to a chiton and you find yourself feeling that fabric too. Pushing your body closer to his as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Goddess.”
You hum quizzically as your fingers drift over the baggy silk shirt, feeling his abs contort with every breath. You stand up, lips drifting over his golden skin and he lets out a gentle sigh.
“Goddess.” You suck gentle patches over his neck, leaving small markings indicating him as yours. Your body jumps and he catches you easily, his hands finding purchase on the globes of your ass before squeezing gently. A small moan leaves you and his jaw flexes as you kiss over it. “Baby. We can’t, you know this.”
You hum to him as he squeezes your ass again, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms run over his shoulders. “I don’t want to explode into gold dust.”
His admission makes you giggle before you gyrate your lower body over his. His cock, hard and throbbing, as your core runs over his. “Zeus above.” His lips chase yours before pulling you into a kiss that sets off a glow between you both. “You’re being a bad girl, goddess. You know what you do to me.”
You giggle before pulling him back in, his teeth bite your bottom lip. Pain radiating through you, you gasp only to have it be swallowed by his mouth as his tongue caresses yours. He moans loudly, a noise that mixes in with the thunder as it crashes loudly outside. You can feel your heartbeat pick up, as your fingers card through his black hair. His fingertips massage at your ass before walking over to the couch and laying you down gently. He straddles you before lifting the peplos and licking his lips. His coffee irises are all but black, blown out with lust as his bottom lip purchases between his teeth. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His hands are warm as they caress your bare sides. He bows down, lips connecting to yours as your stomach begins to unfurl in wanting. His hands reach for your breasts before a throat clears.
You both jump before turning your heads to the noise. Aphrodite stands, leaning against her statue before biting an apple. Jeongguk jumps up before hauling you with him. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and you can’t help but feel your cheeks flush as she stares at you both. “In front of my statue? You would defile each other?”
He rubs the back of his neck before looking at you and giving you a small smile. She laughs gently before throwing him the apple, which he catches with quick reflexes before sinking his teeth into it. “I came because you told Hermes something very special was happening today. I assume it isn’t you turning into gold dust?”
He clears his throat before rubbing his hands together as if he’s getting scolded. “Yes. Um… Y/N is going to ascend today. That’s why she’s wearing the peplos.” His voice is a whisper before looking over at you, fingers scratching nervously at his scalp. He looks at his mother as she gasps. “Today?!”
You nod happily and within seconds she is lifting you off of the couch with ease before wrapping her arms around you and jumping. “This is so exciting! I can’t wait! I have so much to do! I-” She stops herself as her body rocks yours with glee. “Drink the Ambrosia slowly, your body will thank you for it. I have to go! I have to speak with Apollo, Dionysus, and Caerus. Oh! And-” She disappears within seconds, her body turning into gold shimmer before you two are left alone once more.
Jeongguk chuckles gently before wrapping his arms around you, “I think we can expect a festival awaiting us.” You wrap your arms around his before burying your face into his neck. His scent calms you and you feel your body ease into his. His hands drift over your hair, pulling your face ever closer to his body. “Are you ready?”
You feel your throat tighten before looking up at him, his eyes are on yours. Alight with love and fiery passion before he snaps his fingers. Two gold goblets appear on the table and you gasp gently. The thick liquid calls out to you, glowing gently in the dim apartment. “Once you drink this you will become immortal. You will not age, you will not die. You will stay by my side forever. We'll be married in the eyes of the gods and goddesses of the pantheon."
Your eyes flicker to the cup before biting the skin on your lip. To be with this man, this god, for your eternity sounds something akin to pure bliss. Without a second thought you pick up the cup. The liquid ripples slowly and you can see Guk begin to smirk as he picks up his own. “I love you, goddess.”
“I love you, too.” You bring the goblet to your lips before sniffing it gently. The smell makes you blink, “Holy shit.”
His laugh is loud before he sips his own drink. “Yeah, I know.” The smell is clean and pleasant. You can only liken it to itself, seeing as how you’ve never smelt or drank anything like it. Although, come to think of it this is Jeongguk's scent that you could never put your finger on.
“Drink it slowly, baby.” Your lips part for the thick drink, eyes on his as his nose wrinkles. His hand lands on your clothed thigh, stroking it comfortingly as you take a small sip. The thickness coats your tongue, your tastebuds scream with pleasure as your eyes go wide. You can feel your mouth warm up as the flavor bursts within you. “Okay.” He whispers before grabbing the goblet as your head lolls back.
You swallow the Ambrosia before your mind blanks. White noise fills your ears and Jeongguk sets down the goblets before cradling you in his arms as your body stiffens. You whimper gently at the locked feeling before your eyelids fall shut. “You’re okay, goddess.”
Your heart stops for a minute, veins falling still before your body jolts as an electrical current runs through you. It runs hot and fast, pushing your blood out of every vessel before you still once more. Your chest begins to glow, a subtle gold before it shines brightly, radiating through you to each limb. Your hands move first, numb but still pliable as you clench onto his arms. He pulls you to him, coddling you to his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
Your heart begins again, pumping furiously as your eyes snap open. “There she is.” Your mind becomes clear, a loud gasp emits through the room before you look down at your radiating skin. He hugs you tightly, lips kissing over your face as he tells you how much he adores you. “Thank you. For coming to me.”
You hug him back, sitting like this for a small while. You grab the goblet again before taking a sip and relishing at the taste. No food or drink could ever compare to its deliciousness and you find yourself never wanting to have anything else. “Snap your fingers for me.”
You raise an eyebrow as you look upon his handsome face. He closes his eyes and snaps, an apple appears on the table. “For me. Just let me see what your fruit is.”
You snap your fingers before tilting your head as nothing happens. Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows before shrugging. You pout deeply making him chuckle before his lips are against your temple. “That’s okay, goddess. Not everyone can get a fru-”
His sentence is interrupted as the apartment begins to rumble. He widens his eyes before holding you close as the marble floor begins to crack and splinter. “What the fuck?”
A tree erupts from the ground, groaning loudly as branches smack against the ceiling before apples begin to grow off of the tree's limbs. “Zeus above!” He pushes you off of him before stepping around the coffee table and plucking an apple off of the tree. Your mouth drops open and he laughs loudly before throwing the apple up in the air. “By the gods, you’re incredible.”
He stands there before tilting his head to you, "You know, I've had a crush on you since that day you watched me on that bench." You smile gently at his admission before crossing your legs. That was a while ago now.
"Then why didn't you talk to me?" He hums to himself before clearing his throat. "Gods can be insecure too, goddess. Maybe I was just happy to sit next to you every day." You mewl at his words gently before taking another sip of your Ambrosia.
He takes a bite of the apple before chuckling to himself. He holds out his hand as he walks towards the hallway. “Come, my goddess. You have a welcome party to attend to.”
You watch, eyes enraptured as the walls turn into jelly before he pushes open the simple closet door. Clouded stairs greet your path, illuminated by a lavender sun. He steps onto the clouds before smiling at you. “Come.” He holds his hand out waiting for you as you peek your head through the door.
“Holy shit. This is…”
“Olympus.” You can hear wings flap and as you step out nervously, foot tapping against the cloud to make sure it's stable you see a flying horse with a man on its back. “Is that…?”
“Pegasus and Heracles. Yes.” You squeal loudly, feet stomping on the cloud making him laugh gently. “I’m sure you’ll meet many of my family. If Jimin had a hand in this party, you’re in for a treat.”
He goes to step up the staircase with you before turning sharply. “Try not to let my aunts touch your skin. They’re insane.”
He steps up another step before stopping, “And, don’t drink too much Ambrosia. You’ll get sick.”
You nod thoughtfully as he stops at every stair. You whine loudly as excitement courses through you wanting to see the pantheon just a few meters away. “And don’t leave my side.”
“Don’t touch any animals.”
“Don’t accept any offering that demigods try to give you.” You roll your eyes as you begin to ascend with him.
“If you see Helios, don’t look directly into his eyes or your skin will burn.”
“Hymenaios will congratulate you on our wedding, if he tries to-”
“Jeongguk!” He tilts his head with a pout as you wrap your arms around his waist. “Relax. I’m going to be just fine.”
His lips drift over your hairline before nodding, “Yes, goddess.”
Harpsichords begin to play as you cross the golden gates. Your breathing stops as you take in the bustling pantheon in front of you. You eye the floating isles set upon clouds and jagged stones and in the distance you can see Jeongguk’s home. You point to it before squealing and he smiles at you. “Yes, that is our home.”
You hug him tightly, feet stepping giddily on the stone floor as you gasp as Pegasus steps in front of you both. “Eros.”
“Herc. Pleasure.”
The horse brushes it’s white face against you and you look up at the divine hero. He bows his head to you before smiling. “Goddess. Good morning to you.” His body was chiseled and riddled with scars from his battles that he so dutifully fought. You find yourself beginning to swoon as his pectoral muscles ripple. “The Hall is getting ready for your arrival. I was told to bring you this.”
Heracles snaps his fingers and you feel a weight on your skull. Jeongguk hums gently before fixing your hair behind your ears. “Pretty gift. From who?”
“Theia and Aphrodite.” He nods and you point at your head. “Is it a crown?”
He wrinkles his nose cutely before nodding. “A pretty one too.”
“Well. I’ll be off. Pegasus, say goodbye to our new goddess.” The horse whinnies loudly and you gasp with delight before petting his head. “Hi Pegasus!”
Jeongguk steps back to look at you in your entirety, his heart swells with adoration before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing gently. “Oh!”
You look up at Heracles once more as he snaps. “Have a nice flight.” Winged sandals appear on your feet and you gasp loudly, gripping at Jeongguk’s chiton as you float above the floor. Pegasus takes off, wings flapping loudly in the breeze before flying into the clouds above you. “It takes some time to get used to, like riding a bike.”
“You know how to ride a bike?” You find yourself asking with a laugh, he chuckles as he begins to float beside you. “No, but I can ride a chariot and that is much more impressive.”
You reach the hall screaming bloody murder as Jeongguk laughs loudly. “You’re fine, goddess. See.” He plants himself down on the gold steps of the large hall. Your head lolls back as your mouth opens to take in the gorgeous architecture. Pillars of marble and gold hold up the high ceilings. You eye carefully the way the pillars are cut with precision, swirls at the base and tops leaving the columns looking regal and defined. “Eros!”
That is a voice you know very well. You look at Jimin as he flies towards you with a wide smile. “Y/N! Can you do this yet?” He spins like a top as he floats in the air before doing a somersault. “I just got here like five minutes ago. I can barely float.” He laughs loudly before finding purchase on the ground. He produces a cup of Ambrosia before handing it to you.
“You had to hear her, screaming like a banshee. I’m sure Hades could hear her in the Underworld.” You scowl at your man as he chuckles delighted. Your eyes look past Jimin as godly women arrange a banquet, the likes of which you’ve never seen before. “Well, well.”
You turn excitedly to the woman who mothered the god you so love. She wraps you into a hug before a lyre begins to play throughout the sky. “The beautiful goddess is here. I’m so happy for you.” Her hand feels warm upon your cheek as you giggle shyly. “We have many people to meet, wouldn’t you say?”
“Mother, we’ve only just arrived.” She tuts her tongue at her son before smiling at you. “Demeter. Come meet Eros’ wife. She’s an absolute vision.” She pulls you away from Jeongguk as he scoffs quietly.
“Family really is so annoying.” He whispers to his cousin before snapping his fingers and producing a glass of wine.
“Demeter, this is Y/N. Eros’ wife.” A woman turns to you and you can do all but gasp at her beauty. Her peplos is the color of wheat, which is apt for the goddess of grains and harvest. She hums delighted before putting her hands upon your face. You feel a jolt run through you before you’re licking your lips. “Well now, how gorgeous is this one.”
You smile shyly as she fixes the gold crown atop your head before giving you a motherly smile. “She has a beauty fit for a goddess. I wish my Persephone were here to see this.” You clear your throat gently before looking over at Aphrodite as she drinks from a glass of wine. “She has immortality, but not eternal youth. This must be fixed. Right away. Don’t want you wrinkling, goddess. Hebe!”
Your attention turns to a young woman, black curls shroud her shoulders as her young face smiles at you three. “Oh! Mother!” Jeongguk whines loudly as Hebe skips over. His voice is like a song you would love to hear for all of eternity. Hebe stands in front of you before clapping happily.
“We must do something about your skin. It is already turning pale.” You point at yourself, eyes widening at the goddess of youth. She nods early before snapping her fingers and producing a small vial. “Drink. This is from my fountain.”
You take the vial before looking down at the water from the fountain of youth within your palm. “Go on, Y/N. It’ll be but a minute.” You uncork the vial before drinking the water. “Zeus above!” Jeongguk yells loudly before dropping his goblet to the floor as your body goes still.
He flies over to you, catching you quickly as the three women giggle with childish intent. “You could have let her sit or something.” You feel your skin become softer, hair becoming shinier underneath your gold crown and Jeongguk’s eyes soften before running his thumb over your cheek. “Why must she sit when she has you. So eager to catch the young goddess.”
He scoffs gently before helping you stand back up, his lips brush against your cheek. Your stomach unfurls in wanting as your hand snakes around his neck. “I do hope you enjoy my wedding gift, Eros. Doesn’t come cheap.” Demeter jeers before turning back to the banquet table.
“I told you not to let them touch you.” He whispers through clenched teeth as you begin to smile at his handsome face. Your lower body begins to glow, womb glistening like the sun making Guk scoff.
“Oh, Zeus above, Demeter! Really?! You could have just given her a loaf of fucking bread.” Demeter giggles before fixing the wheat in her cornucopia. “Where’s the fun in that god of love?”
The welcome party goes off without a hitch. You find yourself leaning into a conversation with Odysseus and Persyus as they tell you their wondrous tales that only heroes could live. Jeongguk has kept you close to him throughout the night, his hand never leaving your waist as you converse with the gods and goddesses you had believed were a myth your whole life. “Wife.” Jeongguk calls your attention and your head is already lifting to look up at him. “Let’s go for a walk. Hmm?”
He takes your hand before kissing it gently and you bow gracefully to the two heroes before you are off with the god you so ardently love. “Gods, they don’t shut up. If I have to hear Theseus tell the tale of how he battled a minotaur one more time, I might rip my own ears off.”
You laugh gently as you both begin to float off of the island towards Jeongguk’s home. It dawns on you now that this is your own home as well. “Shall I take my goddess home?” He whispers in your ear as his arms wrap around you. You giggle before burying your face into his neck, “I think so.”
You step inside of the castle, your eyes not knowing where to land as fires begin to light up the cold halls. “It hasn’t been lived in for a long time.” He whispers before looking around almost as astounded as you. He pulls your hand as you both step onto the floor. You take in the jewelled floors, how they shimmer and sparkle within the orange lighting of the fire. His feet pad up a marble staircase taking you with him as you notice the missing sword on the wall. Your throat clenches at his memories you’ve seen so vividly. Your hand brushes along the gold walls, feeling the expensive metal beneath your fingertips as he turns to you. “This is our home now. This home will be filled with love and joy. The walls will tell tales of how ardently we love one another.”
Your eyes catch Artemis as she flits down the hall and you smile widely. "Couldn't leave her on Earth by herself now could we."
You smile at him, heart beginning to race as he lifts you up with ease wrapping your legs around his waist. “I love you, goddess.”
Your hands card through his hair as he walks into the master bedroom. “I love you, too.”
He looks at the bed before frowning. This bed holds many memories that would not do. You snap your fingers and the bed changes entirely. From gold to silver. From red bed sheets to white silk with four bed posts made of ivory. Jeongguk whistles before kissing you softly. “Now that gets my cock hard.”
Your giggle ricochets off of the golden walls as he lays you down gently. “You know… We’re married now.” You hum to him as he kisses down the expanse of your neck, eyes fluttering shut as his lips pluck at the thin skin. “We are.”
His lips suckle sweetly at your neck, tongue licking over the reddening skin as he marks you as his own. Your stomach unfurls once more, pants beginning to rip from your chest as your legs squeeze his waist. He groans gently before snapping his fingers and you are utterly naked underneath him. “Zeus above, you’re so beautiful.”
With the snap of your fingers, he too is naked before you. In the dim orange lighting you can see every shadow, every curve of his muscles. The way his eyebrows furrow as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. Your eyes dance over his handsome face, watching as he bows his head down to lavish sweetly upon your body. His hands cup your breasts, lips sucking marks around an areola before encasing it with his perfectly shaped lips. Your back bows off of the white bed. Fingers running through his hair before pulling gently. You relish in the short gasp he takes at the pain and you could feel your arousal beginning to weep from you.
His large hands spread your thighs, as his tongue flicks against your nipple. Soft moans emit throughout the large bedroom as his hands begin to grip tighter at your sensitive flesh. “Guk!”
“Yes, goddess?” His voice is deep as his eyes meet yours, in the light of the fire you can see how blown out his pupils are as he licks at his lips. “Want you.”
“You have me.” His fingers run over the expanse of your thighs before his lips begin to trail lower. Hands grasp at your hips as he groans lowly. “You do taste so sweet.”
If you could have any thoughts you would recall how much like this your dream was that you had not so long ago but all melts away as his teeth nip playfully at the skin of your pubic bone. “Shall I taste the sweetest tulip I’ve ever seen?” He cocks his head to the side, black hair falling into his eyes and you could orgasm on the spot of how handsome he is. Hands falling from his hair, your fingertips drift over his muscled arms, leading over to his pectoral muscles and down to his abs. You find it hard to concentrate as he sits up tall for you, letting you explore his body. The sinew of muscle constricts as you touch him and his head lolls back at the feeling. "Gods, your touch is incredible."
You go to sit up before he is narrowing his eyes at you. "Lay back and shower me in your pleasure." You whine gently as your hands continue to stroke his abs, wanting nothing more than to lick and suckle his taught skin.
"Goddess, bad vixens get punished in this house." Your breath catches in your throat as his head bows back down. His tongue sweeps over your closed pussy lips and you sigh gently at the feeling of his mouth upon you. He snaps his fingers and your arms are pulled over your head as white silk bands wrap around your wrists. "Guk!" He chuckles gently before spreading open your pussy lips.
He moans at the sight before licking a flat swipe up your sex, gathering your arousal on his tongue. "Sweeter than Ambrosia. I'd like to taste this every minute of every day, Zeus above."
You become aware of harpsichord music as his lips kiss your swollen clit. The melody is a sweet song that has your brain beginning to feel fuzzy. "Shouldn't have let Demeter touch you. Her gift makes me want to impregnate your fertile little cunt." He mumbles to himself before suckling harshly at your clit. Your body bows off of the bed, thighs pressing against his head as you moan loudly. He snaps and your ankles are stretched open and pulled tightly down onto the bed leaving you perfectly exposed for him.
"I'm going to put a god inside of your womb tonight, goddess. Would you like that?" You whimper loudly as his index finger begins to tease your entrance. "Fuck you so well the whole pantheon sees my child growing inside of you."
The thought has his head swimming as his lips attach back to your engorged bundle of nerves. His finger enters you slowly, moans coaxed from the both of you. Guk curls his finger slowly yet expertly to the patch inside of you that has sobs wracking from your body. Your body begins to float up and his free hand pins you down to the bed as he slowly adds in another finger. "Guk! Fuck!" He hums against you, tongue flicking faster as your arousal begins to coat his cheeks and chin. The harp grows ever louder as your body begins to illuminate for your husband between your legs. It is then that your heart begins to beat fast, stomach tightening as you whimper louder. "Shower me in your pleasure, goddess. I love you so much."
"Jeon-gguk!" He moans against you gently, eyes rolling back as he feels your cunt begin to pulsate around his fingers. "That's it, goddess." The light from your body begins to shine brighter and he watches your face, drinking in the pure pleasure written upon it.
Your stomach tightens to the fullest before your head is lolling back. "Fuck! I'm cumming!" He grips at your hip harder, your words sending all of his blood straight to his cock. His teeth graze across your clit before you're cumming loudly. The stars of the galaxy paint the back of your eyelids as you fall over the edge. The harp gets drowned out as white noise replaces it. You moan his name loudly, both of them Eros and Jeongguk alike and he sits up to watch you with greedy eyes. "Gods, you're gorgeous."
Jeongguk slowly pulls out of you. He suckles on his fingers, savoring the sweet taste of you. His hand rubs at your glowing sides, letting you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, sweet and thick as he cups your face with his hand. His forehead connects to yours before muttering the only three words that seem to matter. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Your hands strain against the fabric before you pout. He chuckles, sweet breath fanning your face before you're slyly smirking at him. You snap your fingers and like that, you're free from your confines. Your body lifts up before shoving him down onto the bed, he gasps gently before chuckling.
"I guess I'm not the only one who holds power in this home." You giggle before planting a chaste kiss upon his lips. Trailing downward, your tongue sweeps small circles over his golden skin as he glows from the orange flames. He gasps gently, mouth dropping open before his eyes flutter shut. You lick at his chest, dancing over the taught, muscular skin. He groans gently, whispering your name reverently as his hands run through your hair. You feel it again, the feeling that sends tingles through your body. Begging for the man underneath you, Jeongguk's eyes flutter open before smirking as your lower half begins to glow. "Someone's womb is dying to be filled with the seed of Eros. Hmm?"
You snap your fingers, white silk ribbons wrap around his wrists before yanking his arms above his head. He groans gently before chuckling. "You're astounding, goddess." You know he could easily release himself from them but he makes no move as your hands run over his thick thighs. You take all of him in now, almost gasping at his large size as his cock twitches with need. He was long and thick making your mouth water. Rose colored veins peppering his long length as it rests against his stomach. His bulbous head is blushed pink and you can help but notice the gentle curve of his immaculate cock. He whimpers when you touch his inner thighs. Hips bowing off of the bed begging for something more. "It's been so long since I've been touched." He admits and you watch how precum begins to pool at his slit.
The precum shimmers in the lighting and you feel your mouth go dry, begging to taste it. You wrap your hand around the base, earning a hiss from the god beneath you before kissing over his length. He groans long and low as his head smacks into the mattress. "Oh gods, goddess you don't know how long I've waited for your touch." If it's half as long as you, you have a pretty good idea.
His cock is heavy in the palm of your hand, twitching with bliss as you press your lips to the smooth skin. The harpsichords begin to play once more as you reach the head. Your tongue darts out, licking the thick precum off of him before your eyes widen at the taste. There is no musk, nothing of the sort. He tastes of Ambrosia and you find yourself pumping his cock quicker for more. Delectable is the only word to describe it. You moan gently for him, a noise that makes him grunt gently before your tongue swirls around the blushed head of his cock. He moans loudly, eyes squeezing shut as his chest begins to glow. "Oh goddess!"
Your mouth engulfs him, hands caressing his abed stomach as you hollow your cheeks. He is heavy against your tongue, shimmering precum streaming endlessly into your mouth as he moans your name. What you cannot fit inside of you, you begin to stroke. His body begins to twitch with pleasure, thighs flexing and unflexing before he is snapping his fingers. His hands fall free before he is sitting up to watch you suck him diligently. "You fuck my cock into your mouth so well."
You whimper, thighs pressing against each other for some relief as you feel the emptiness of your cunt radiate through you. His hands grab at your hair, pulling it away from your face to view you easier. Your tongue runs flat licks over the base, the sounds of your cheeks hollowing and sucking him echo through the room and he gasps loudly as he grips your hair tighter. "Oh fuck! Goddess! Thank you for pleasing me so well."
Your eyes shut at his praise and his thumb sweeps across your cheek bone as you feel him begin to throb within your mouth. His body glows brighter, moans beginning to reach new levels of high. His fingertips roll and pluck at your nipples as his bottom lip purchases between his teeth. Your hands cup his balls, squeezing and rolling them gently within your hands and you whimper as he whispers your name with reverence. "Oh shit! I'm going to cum. Oh gods, fuck, it feels so good, Y/N!"
You swallow around him diligently, nose nestling to his pubic bone as you let him use your throat as a cocksleeve. "Oh goddess, how I love you." He begins to fuck your face, he pulls at your hair gently. The feeling sent straight to your core as your new wave of arousal begins to weep from you. Your eyes well up with tears as he whimpers loudly. "Goddess! Yes! I-I" He falls silently as his body begins to float into the air, taking you with him. His head falls back as he gasps quietly. "Cumming. Fuck, baby. I'm cumming for you."
His cock throbs wildly before stilling, warm ropes of cum paint your throat and you relish in the sweet taste of him. He moans your name so loudly that the gold walls of the castle vibrate gently. He glows brightly before you both fall back down onto the bed. Your hands run over his chest as he breathes raggedly. His tongue licks at his pretty pink lips before he raises his head to look at you. His smile makes your throat tense up, the most beautiful god is really beneath you.
His hands coddle your body to his before he is laying you back and kissing you gently. His knees knock open your legs, thumb caressing your cheek and jaw as he aligns himself to you. His cock gently brushes open your lips, gathering your arousal on the underside of his cock. You moan as his bulbous head prods at your engorging clit. His lips press to yours quickly before putting his forehead to you. "Shower me in your pleasure, goddess."
The harpsichords resound throughout the room, gentle and melodic as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Hands grip at his tattooed arms, eyes on one another's as he inches slowly inside of you. There is a burn as he stretches your pussy for him. Your cunt muscles clench and squeeze against the thick intrusion and he kisses you languidly as he takes his time. He buries himself to the hilt, choking on a moan as his tongue caresses yours. "You're so tight, goddess. So fucking wet."
Kissing over your jaw, he gives a small thrust to work open your pussy and you could feel every curve of his cock, every part of your cunt filled by him. His moans are gentle as his thumbs brush over your nipples. "You'll take my child so well, pretty tits will swell with the milk of the gods."
Your pussy clenches around him as your womb glows brightly. "You'd like that, goddess. Wouldn't you? Like to have a god within your womb. Growing my child strong for Olympus."
"Yes! Please! I want to be pregnant with your child." He moans at your reply, lips crashing down on yours as he kisses you with unbearable wanting. It is then that he pulls out slowly, the bulbous head of his cock drags deliciously through your walls before thrusting back inside.
Your back bows off of the bed, eyes rolling back as your body begins to sing with white hot pleasure. He begins a lazy pace, whispering words of ardor over you as his lips kiss at your skin. Your bodies begin to float and he takes this time to wrap his arms around you, arm muscles rippling as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
"Guk! More, please." He whimpers against your neck, tongue lazily sweeping circles over your skin before lifting his head. "Yes, goddess."
His thrusts pick up speed, your legs wrap around his waist as he grips at your hips. You can see the way his black hair begins to coat in a shimmering sweat, sticking to his forehead. His bottom lip finds purchase between his teeth as he pumps his cock into your needy cunt. "Gods, you feel so amazing. Your, fuck, your pussy is so incredible."
You sit up, chest smacking into his as you both float higher, your body bouncing on his with each thrust. His hands snake to the globes of your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you in for a kiss. You can see his body begin to glow once more, starting at his heart and spreading to his limbs. His strong arms take control, lifting your body with ease as your arousal begins to drip down his balls.
"Oh fuck! Eros!" With each thrust, the head of his cock prods against your cervix folds and your head lolls back as your body begins to radiate. Your toes begin to curl, the sound of the harp getting drowned out by both of your moans. It is then that he presses you both back down into the bed. Grabbing your ankles and hauling them over his shoulders as he bucks into you with fervent need.
"Y/N! Oh fuck! I'm going to spill my seed into your womb. Gonna fill you up so much you have no choice but to get pregnant with my child." The new angle has his bulbous head brushing against the bundle of nerves within you. His hands trail over your body, pinching and plucking at your stiff nipples before reaching for the apex between your thighs.
His fingers rub quick circles against your clit and your breath catches within your throat. Your body careens towards the precipice, the room filling up with white light as you moan his name loudly. You become acutely aware of how your pussy begins to throb around him, your mind going blank as you murmur his name like a prayer. "Goddess, I feel it. I feel your pretty little pussy trying to milk me of my seed. Cum on my cock, baby."
Your eyes flutter shut, hands grip at his arms. Your fingernails dig into his golden skin as it sings with pleasure. The pleasure, so intense, it brings tears to your eyes as you whimper for him. "I love you. Cum for me."
His thumb and index finger squeeze your swollen bundle of nerves gently and that's all it takes as you orgasm for him. Your heart beats voraciously fast, body tingling with new found pleasure as you cum for him. White noise fills your brain and you sob loudly at the pleasure. "Good girl."
His face is back to your neck, lips plucking at your delicate skin as he chases his own high. "Oh gods, you came all over me goddess. Squirted all over me. So gorgeous."
Fuzzily, you lift your head to look at his lower body, your cum shimmering on his thighs and cock. He fucks into you faster, tongue licking at his lips before his eyes are rolling back. His black hair tickles the skin of your neck as he moans your name like a prayer. “Oh fuck, Y/N! I’m going to cum! Get you so nice and big with my child inside of you.”
His words are a promise, a promise that fuels his desire to give you his everything. “Yes, please fill me Eros. Give me your child!” He groans loudly as he lifts his head. His coffee irises begin to turn white as he bites his bottom lip. You feel it then, how fast his cock begins to throb within you, begging to unleash his cum deep inside of you. You can see the love, the pleasure, the wanting written over his handsome features as his eyes flutter shut. His mouth opens, tongue caressing the skin of his bottom lip before his eyebrows furrow.
“Fuck! Goddess!” His hands grasp at your hips as you begin to float higher than before. The harps song begins to quicken and your back begins to arch as Guk moans. “Oh gods, I’m cumming.”
His body bursts with white light, so bright you have to squeeze your eyes shut as his cock stills inside of you. He gives small thrusts before moaning so loudly your ears ring. The orange flames of the room are burnt out as a gust of wind sweeps throughout the bedroom. Ropes of cum greet your needy cunt. Your womb swells with his seed as his cum never seems to cease. It fills you with warmth, numbing your body and you feel euphoric as he hugs you tightly to him.
He kisses over your sweaty skin, peppering you with love as you both slowly float back down to the bed. The harp turns into the sounds of a lyre before you hear trumpets begin to resound. He chuckles gently against you before shaking his head. “Welcome to Olympus.”
You giggle before running your hands through his sweaty hair. He hugs you tightly before pulling out of you slowly, his tongue licks at hips before he's humming in amusement. His fingers splayed open the lips of your pussy before groaning. "Zeus above, that's hot." You watch as his cum seeps out of you, coating the silk sheets beneath you as it sparkles.
"I can't believe you have glittery cum." He laughs loudly, head falling back before he snaps his fingers changing the sheets beneath you both. He lays down beside you, arm wrapping around your waist before pulling your back flush to his chest. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Waking up in Olympus can only be described as rapture. Leaving Guk alone in the bed, you snap your fingers as you walk towards the open balcony. A light blue peplos enwraps your body and you can smell Ambrosia on the wind as you lean against the marble railing of the balcony. The lavender sky hangs high above the pantheon and you close your eyes taking in the heated rays. Once an enigma to you, Jeongguk has become everything you could have dreamed of and you find your eyes welling with tears as you open them once more.
You take in the sight of gods and goddess flying around to get from the Elysian Fields to even the market. “Goddess?” His voice croaks with the sound of morning and you giggle before putting your hands underneath your chin. You hear the sheets ruffle as he awakes and your head tilts to look at a garden with a fountain in the center. In the distance you can see Hebe sitting on the edge of the fountain combing her hair and you fill with calmness. “Good morning.”
His arms wrap around you before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good morning.” He pulls back before looking at the blue peplos and smirking. “You feel different today?”
You raise an eyebrow before turning to him. “Different?” He hums before kissing your lips gently.
“Blue.” He pulls at the peplos before looking past you towards the pantheon.
His hands run down your arms to your stomach and you go wide eyed as he turns you back around. “Pregnancy is different here, goddess.” You choke on your own spit before looking down at your stomach. Just a small bump, maybe signifying that you were two to three months pregnant and yet, you’re still mystified by it.
“You-I- We just did it yesterday.” He laughs, a sweet melodic sound as his breath fans the back of your neck. “Yes, we did. A very good night for me indeed.” You snort as your womb begins to glow underneath his touch. It hits you then.
“What about my job as a mythologist? What about everything on Earth?” He hugs you tightly as Pegasus flies above the castle.
“I’d say this is better than studying myths, don’t you think? You’re living one.” You ponder on this thought for a second before you begin to smile. “I’d say so.”
He sighs gently before rubbing at your stomach. “It’s a boy y’know. That’s why you’re wearing blue.” Your heart swells before turning to him, his hands caging you against the railing as the prop up on either side of you. “Although the world will never write about your story, they will never know the tales of how Eros grew to love again. How our love culminated into the greatest gift of being-” His hands press to your stomach as you tilt your head, “-the pantheon will know. They will know how ardently I treasure and adore you. The gods and goddesses will know how you make my heart sing.” Your fingers reach up and touch the gold necklace around your neck and his nose wrinkles. He wraps you in his arms, chest beginning to glow as his forehead presses to yours. “For Eros, the god of love found his own in a woman whose heart made his own weep with Ambrosia, sing like the winds of the Elysian Fields and dream such sweet dreams only Morpheus would provide.”
➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader
➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut.
➛word count: 4799
➛rating: M
➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter.
➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart.
➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama (and the kind bank of @quinnkook), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤
➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff & Poison - GOT7 for the dirty dirty.
“She’s doing this on purpose.”
“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”
Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”
Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”
The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.
“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”
“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”
“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”
“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.
“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”
Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”
“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”
“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”
“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence.
Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea.
Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop.
He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll.
For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.
Until you.
Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.
He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.
While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.
And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact.
It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.
But that didn’t mean he liked it.
He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.
Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?
After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.
It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.
Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.
He was desperate.
"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."
Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."
Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.
"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"
"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."
"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.
Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?
You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.
His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears.
Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.
You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.
But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.
He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.
Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.
They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.
But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.
It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.
Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.
And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.
It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.
Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.
"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"
"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."
The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."
You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."
"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"
I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.
To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.
With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.
"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"
"Y/N."
"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.
"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."
That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"
Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.
“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”
“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”
You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly.
“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”
He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”
“Is this another cat analogy?”
Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes.
“I already regret this.”
Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”
The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.
The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.
It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile.
You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.
Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.
He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.
And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.
“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”
He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest.
“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range.
“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”
“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”
Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest.
“I guess that’s fair.”
It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers.
But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head.
You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers.
It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.
The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi.
The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.
When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.
“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.
“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”
And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy.
“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”
“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”
Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”
You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more.
“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”
He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully.
“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”
Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.
“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”
Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”
“Hit me with one.”
Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.
“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”
Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.
You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him.
He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.
He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes - as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.
It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen.
Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”
Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”
“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”
Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.
Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”
“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”
Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”
A/n: I don’t know if she wants to be tagged but this is a commission for a lovely friend of mine. I hope she likes it.
Summary: You’re fine with just being friends with Taehyung....until you get the text, that is.
Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness, vaginal fingering, mentions of sex, a little filth, a little feelings, reader;’s friend is me but listen it was a specific request
Word Count: 2094
The text you receive from the man you've had an on again off again sexual relationship with for months is a peculiar one, as they go.
You've gotten a few interesting ones over the past few months, some nearly incoherent when he'd gone out with friends, but they'd all had a common thread: sex.
Although you'd entertained the idea of something more, especially in the beginning, after time when he'd never seemed to want anything more, leaving early in the morning after a night together and maybe a couple breakfasts or lunches, never anything that could be considered a date.
You're not even friends, exactly, more like... acquaintances with benefits.
You're fine with that. You really are. Mostly.
Maybe sometimes you watch the line of his jaw when he's sleeping, count the eyelashes across his cheekbones, but in your defense, he's ridiculously handsome. Taehyung is friendly and affectionate after sex and before, but he's that way with everyone, all his friends and even acquaintances that he's fond of, you know it doesn't mean anything.
Does your heart skip a beat when he calls you jagiya casually, when he catches your waist as you walk by, presses his face into your stomach and hugs you? Maybe.
But it isn't what that smallest part of you hopes it could be, and you've accepted it. You think.
Until you get the text.
When you get it, you're not even thinking about him. In fact, you haven't thought about him almost all night, ever since your friend introduced you to her new boyfriend's best friend.
She's been single longer than you have, and you're shocked when she abruptly changes her status on Facebook to "in a relationship" with pierced Im Changkyun, a man she'd brushed off as being "young and dumb but wicked hot" when she's first started sleeping with him.
A month later at her birthday party, she's all heart eyes and goofy smile and she still calls him dumb but with the softest voice.
"You're in love," you say to her, dumbfounded, when she beckons you into the kitchen to help her open the fifth bottle of wine at her party.
"I know, it's so fucking gross," she says cheerfully, leaned over to grab a bottle of red.
"I'm happy for you," you say, and you try to mean it, you really do.
She chuckles as she opens it. "You hate me a little, and that's valid. But listen. He has a friend-"
"No." You say firmly, and she continues like you've said nothing and you put your hand over her mouth to stop you.
"Y/n, he has dimples," she continues, muffled, and you slowly drop your hand.
"Go on."
"He'll be here in a bit, he's so much fun, he's a Libra-"
"You know I don't know what that means," you sigh, exasperated.
"You're gonna love him, trust me."
"I'm still kinda-"
She holds up a hand. "Do not say you're still seeing that adorable fuckboy, he's so pretty but he's never gonna be your boyfriend, babe."
"I don't want him to be my boyfriend."
"Oh so we're lying? Is that what we're doing?"
You roll your eyes and drink half a glass of wine.
You're considerably buzzed after another glass when he shows up and boy she was right, he really does have dimples.
When you introduce himself, he smiles and you almost drop your wineglass.
"Jooheon. But you can call me honey." He winks at you and you wonder if this is what she means by Libra.
He's charming and funny and man, those dimples and for once, Taehyung isn't even in your thoughts.
Them your phone dings and you absent mindedly check it.
Taehyung: You got a boyfriend now?
Oh. Oh. That's new. Not the text itself, you've gotten texts like that from other men, ones who were a bit territorial, and on its own, you know it doesn't mean anything.
But from Taehyung?
Not once in all the time you'd known him had he been territorial or jealous in any way. You'd gone out to clubs together and you'd danced and flirted right in front of him and he hadn't batted an eye, even later when you ended up in bed together.
Your eyes dart around the room and when you see him, he's watching you with dark, half lidded eyes on your friend's loveseat. Not surrounded by people, like usual. Alone, wearing this white button up that's half unbuttoned and an empty wineglass in front of him. He looks a bit rumpled in a way you haven't seen him look, maybe even drunk.
He doesn't react when you lock eyes, face passive, but something's different.
"Y/n?"
Jooheon's voice brings your attention back, and his brow is a bit furrowed.
"You okay?"
"Good," you choke out. "I'm good. Just...work," you lie.
Instead of texting him back, you pointedly put your phone in your lap and go back to texting Jooheon.
In less than ten minutes, you hear your phone ding twice more, and you can't help the thrill that races through you.
Jooheon looks down at your phone during a lull in conversation.
You smile. "I'll just check. It's like they can't live without me."
Taehyung: Just curious. And then, three minutes later: You ignoring me now?
You feel oddly victorious and powerful. You text back quickly: I'm a little busy.
You see him on his phone in your peripheral vision, see him sit up, shoulders stiffening, but you stay focused on Jooheon, talking a bit more about your work and he's listening actively, leaned forward toward you.
He's asking you what you like to do in your free time and you feel a little thrill at the prospect of him asking you out and that makes you feel a bit better about things.
It isn't as if you can't be attracted to anyone else but Taehyung, it turns out, just that you hadn't focused on anyone else since you'd met.
Your phone goes off once more and you check it after a moment, trying to appear nonchalant.
Taehyung: You think he can make you cum like I can?
You feel a jolt of heat down your spine. Well, that's an escalation. It's cocky, though, and as much as it turns you on it kind of pisses you off, too, so you text back: Guess I'll see.
You put your phone back in your lap and lean forward to put your hand on Jooheon's knee.
"Sorry," you apologize.
Jooheon smiles at you and puts his hand over yours. "No worries."
He is awfully handsome, and it's easy enough to fall back into conversation with him.
Jooheon is distracted by someone coming up to speak to him, and you can't help your gaze going back to Taehyung. He's slumped back against the couch now, glass of wine magically refilled, and he's still staring at you, blank faced, but instead of half lidded like before his eyes seem bigger, somehow, wide and darker than usual.
It's intense, that look, and not one you've seen before unless he was fucking you, looking down into your eyes in that intimate way he had.
Your phone dings again and you look right away, unable to wait now that you weren't distracted by Jooheon.
Taehyung: I didn't like seeing you touch him.
Your heart seizes in your chest and suddenly it's not as fun anymore. You're thinking about what it all means and having to think about how you actually feel and....
You're staring at your phone and thinking of how to respond to that when Jooheon touches your hand.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, and you nod, swallowing hard.
"I need a refill," you say, and when he raises an eyebrow at your half full glass, you gulp it down. "Be right back."
Before he can offer to refill it for you, you stand and bolt for the kitchen, running from the way you can feel Taehyung's eyes on your back and the way your real feelings seem to be rising in your throat.
Half of you hopes your friend is in the kitchen so you'll have someone to bounce this off of, but it's empty and you sit your glass on the counter, taking in a deep breath.
When you hear footsteps you stand up straight, and you hear him before you turn around, his tone calm and steady, like always.
"You didn't mean that, did you?"
You close your eyes, turning to face Taehyung, bracing your hands behind you on the counter.
"Mean what?"
He takes a step toward you and you brace down harder on the counter, willing your heart to stop racing.
You really wish he wouldn't look at you like that, somehow passive and hungry at the same time, you've never met a man so difficult to read.
"When you said, 'Guess I'll see.' You didn't mean that." It's not a question, this time. He takes another step closer.
"Who says I didn't mean it?" Your voice sounds stronger than you feel.
Taehyung swallows visibly. "I do."
This time, he doesn't sound so sure, and it does something to your heart.
You shrug, hoping it seems nonchalant.
"He might ask me out."
Taehyung shakes his head, huffing out a breath. "You'll say no."
"I like him," you say, honestly, and he just keeps staring into your eyes and it's making it hard to breathe.
He shakes his head again. "Don't say that."
His voice is softer, less sure, and he takes another step, close enough that he could lean down and kiss you with a tilt of his head.
His hands come to your hips slowly, as if he thinks you might push him away but you can't move. You don't want to, damnit, as much as you'd love to believe you did.
When he lifts you onto the counter your arms go around his neck instantly, it's like second nature, and he lets out a long breath as if he's been holding it.
You expect him to lean down and kiss you, hungry and possessive, but instead he just presses his forehead to yours.
"I don't want you to like him," he says in that low, soft tone.
"Why?" You ask, nearly breathless, and that's when he kisses you, slow and deep but somehow needy at the same time.
His fingers dance at the inside of your thigh before he hooks his thumb into your panties, barely brushing across your clit and making you gasp into his mouth.
"I can make you cum harder," he murmurs against your ear. "I can be better."
Instead of cocky and arrogant like his text sounded, it sounds like a promise, a plea, and you wonder if you've gotten it wrong, all this time.
"Taehyung," you say his name softly and he makes this little pleased sound in the back of his throat, presses his thumb against your clit before dipping two fingers inside you, too shallow, teasing. "Taehyung."
“Do you still like him?” He presses his fingers up against that rough spot just inside your cunt that makes pleasure shoot up your spine.
“I do,” you admit, and his shoulders slump, head dropping against your shoulder as if he’s tired, exhausted even.
Before he can back away, you press your hand over his, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.
“But I think I’m in love with you.” Your voice is shaky, but the way he presses his lips to your neck makes the confession feel less vulnerable.
“Thank God,” he mumbles, moving to kiss along your jawline. “You were driving me crazy, jagiya.”
It makes it all seem different, his casual use of that petname, the way he turned his face into your stomach after grabbing you around the waist, as if you’ve gotten it all wrong all these months.
Later, when he’s looking down into your eyes with that same intense look he’s been giving you for months, it all seems to make sense.
When he moves his mouth to your throat, making big, sloppy marks there, you tug at his hair to make him look at you, and he bucks inside you.
“Taehyung. You have to say it.” You insist, firmly.
He pauses, face blank, and then a big, boxy smile breaks across his face. “I’ll text you.”
You’re laughing into his mouth when he kisses you again but when you wake up the next morning with him sleeping soundly on his stomach beside you, you check your phone.
SUMMARY: You need to be punished to atone for your sins.
PAIRING: priest!seokjin x reader
RATING: E
WARNINGS: smut | whipping | paddling | watersports | blasphemy lmao | seriously this is messed up | jin calls her a slut | degradation? | unprotected sex
WORD COUNT: 2.5k
A/N: dedicated to @kpopyandere as payment for services rendered. unbeta-ed because i was too embarrassed to send this to any of my betas lmaooo.
“Father.” Your voice was breathy as you knelt, your head bowed. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
“My child.” The priest’s voice was calm as he rested his hand on the top of your head, his thumb pressing into your forehead. “What ails you?”
“Father,” you said, looking up at him. Tears of distress pooled in your eyes. “I keep having… indecent thoughts.”
Father Seokjin hummed thoughtfully. “That is a sin indeed, my child. Your soul needs to be cleansed.”
Your eyes closed in relief, causing the tears to spill over your cheeks. “Thank you, Father,” you gushed.
The hand on your head travelled down your face, tilting your chin up. His thumb now pressed into your lips, pushing them into your teeth so hard you worried they’d bleed. Silly, really – by the time Seokjin was done with you, that would be the least of your worries.
“I commend your bravery in coming to me, my child. I will help you overcome your sin,” he said, and you were captivated by the benevolent, calm expression on his face, so incongruent with the way his fingers gripped your face hard.
Truth be told, you knew the drill by now. Father Seokjin belonged to an ancient, secret sect that still believed in the old practices like flagellation. And maybe, just maybe, you enjoyed it a little too much, came to church to confess your sins every week like a good girl.
Father Seokjin knew; he could sense a kindred spirit. You enjoyed the blows that rained down on your body as much as he enjoyed giving them, loved when he was rough with you in the name of cleansing your soul. You were sinful, dirty, perverted – but so was he. In a different life, perhaps, where he hadn’t taken a sacred vow, you could belong to each other, but in this one, all you had were stolen, fleeting moments.
“Thank you, Father,” you breathed, your eyes wide as you stared up at him adoringly. Your Father, your savior.
He smiled back down at you, then pushed your face away from him with a flick of his wrist so your head turned against your will. “You don’t deserve to look at me,” he bit out, the strict, harsh tone causing flames to lick at your insides.
“Yes, Father.” Your voice trembled as you righted yourself, looking down at your lap where your hands were fisting in your skirt. You were dressed, as always, impeccably, in one of your favourite dresses today. None of it mattered to Seokjin, though. The expensive clothes and accessories you loved so much were just another sin in his eyes, and if you were being honest, you persisted in bringing your Hermès bags with you to church because you knew it upset him.
“Strip.” His voice brooked no disobedience, and you followed his instructions almost instinctively, reaching for the zipper on the back of your dress. Seokjin watched you impassively, not making any move to help you. That was normal – you draped your dress over the edge of the pew, listening and hoping that he’d have some sort of reaction to the lingerie you were wearing. You knew the sheer red lace set looked good on you, but if he thought so too, he didn’t give anything away.
Finally, you took off the undergarments as well, pouting a little at his stoicism. When you were completely undressed, you returned to his feet and knelt with your head bowed, your hands resting on your thighs, palms up. “I am ready, Father,” you said quietly.
Instead of answering you, he stepped away, to the nondescript cabinet he kept by the altar. All his equipment was there – the paddles, whips, canes. You wondered if his other followers enjoyed this treatment as much as you did. Honestly, you wouldn’t know, but it did seem that you were the one who came the most regularly.
Humming thoughtfully to himself, Seokjin perused the tools at his disposal before selecting a paddle and a whip. When he returned to you, however, he looked at the whip again before dropping it carelessly on the ground. No, he wouldn’t be needing that tonight.
Instead, he stood over you, the shadow from the altar candles behind him casting a shadow that fell over your body. Hesitantly, you looked up at him, not sure whether you were allowed to, and bit your lip at the way he towered over you.
“Undo my belt.” The simple instruction sent a shiver down your spine, and you were sure you were dripping on the floor. With trembling fingers, you reached up to his belt buckle, looking up at him again for validation. A single quirked brow let you know that he wasn’t impressed with your pace, and you swallowed hard as you undid the buckle, the sound of the leather sliding past the loops and the clink of the buckle loud in the quiet of the room.
When you pulled the belt free from the loops, it lay across your palms, looking so innocuous. You held it up to him, unable to tear your gaze away from his cold expression. There must be something wrong with you, you thought, that his judgmental look made you so hot.
Seokjin picked the belt off your hands, holding it near the buckle with his left hand as he ran his right along the leather. Stepping around you and out of your field of vision, you heard and felt him stop behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck rise.
“Look up at the Lord and repent,” Seokjin snapped at you, his voice low and raspy in the instant before he drew his arm back to hit you with the belt. The cracking sound of leather meeting flesh was almost deafening in your ears, and the pain that exploded across the welt that almost immediately raised across your back made you whimper. Still, you didn’t bow your head or close your eyes, your fingers digging into your bare thighs as you focused on repenting for your sins.
Blow after blow rained down on your bare skin, forcing whimpers and moans from your lips as your nails dug into your thighs. Tears filled your eyes but you didn’t move to wipe them away, even as your view of the altar blurred.
Eventually, he stopped – he didn’t want to, loving the way you shuddered and tensed, and the beautiful way the welts rose up across your skin, red and pink, a maze across your back. But any more and you would bleed, he could tell. The thought of drawing blood excited him like nothing else, but the last time he’d done that you hadn’t come back for three weeks while your wounds healed.
“Get up.” His dispassionate tone belied his arousal, and if you turned around, he knew you would be able to tell. His rapid breathing wasn’t just from the physical exertion, and despite having tucked himself into his waistband earlier to hide his inevitable erection, you were familiar enough with him now that you’d be able to read him.
You knew, of course, that he was turned on just as well as he did, but the pretense was part of the game you played.
As you bent over the pew, using your elbows to brace yourself, he feigned obliviousness to the arousal slicking your pussy, sticking to the unwritten script you both knew by heart.
“You know, you wouldn’t need to come so often if you weren’t such a little slut,” Seokjin told you disapprovingly. You dropped your head, pressing your face against your left arm, as you clenched involuntarily. You loved it when he called you a slut, adored the way the word rolled off his tongue with such disdain, like you were dirty, debased, sinful. The double meaning in his words wasn’t lost on you either.
“I’m sorry, Father,” you gasped against your arm. You had barely finished when he brought the paddle down on your ass, and the end of your sentence turned into a garbled cry.
“You have sinned against our Lord,” he hissed as he hit you again. As the wood made contact with your already inflamed skin, you jolted forward.
“Yes,” you said, blinking back the tears, although whether it was in agreement with what he’d said or a cry of exultation, neither of you knew.
As he continued striking you with the paddle, he continued explaining to you all the ways in which you were a filthy sinner, a disgrace to the Lord, and fuck, did you love it.
When he finally dropped the paddle, your ass was a bright, glowing shade of pink, matching the crisscrossed welts on your back perfectly. To Seokjin, this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you – your perfect, smooth skin marked up by him.
You’d been punished enough for your sins, he declared, and you returned to your original kneeling position as he stood over you.
“My child,” he said in a soothing tone, signifying a change in the mood from earlier, “I will now cleanse your soul with the holy waters of mankind.”
Blinking up at him, you nodded eagerly. This was always your favourite part, where the warm liquid against your skin refreshed your spirit and washed away your sins. He smiled benevolently down at you, his arms hanging, relaxed, by his side.
You knew the drill – your fingers worked dexterously to undo his trousers, sliding the zipper down with a little shiver of anticipation. Seokjin was hard, as he usually was, and you bit your lip as you drew his erection out.
Seokjin smirked down at you. He knew what you were thinking; you were here because of your lustful nature, after all, and he had a nice cock – long, thick, flushed pink and with a pretty network of veins running down it. He’d give you a treat later, probably, but for right now, there was something else you needed.
“Please, Father,” you begged in that cute, broken voice, so desperate for him to cleanse your soul in the way that only he could. You were almost panting with desire, your mouth open and relaxed. Seokjin reached for his cock, stroking it just once as he schooled his expression so that he retained the serene look he always wore during service.
“Shh,” he cooed at you, his other hand resting on the top of your head, tilting it so that you faced upwards. With a beatific sigh, he relaxed his pelvic muscles and began pissing on you, admiring the way it ran in rivulets down your face and over your bare skin. He could see the impact it had on you, your body relaxing like the urine streaming down your body was leaching away all the stress and pain of your life.
It was almost enough to fool him into thinking that this was why he did it – purely to provide redemption for your soul.
You’d texted him earlier today to let him know that you were coming over, so he’d prepared well for tonight, and there was a lot, forming a puddle where you were kneeling. Halfway through, you tilted your head and opened your mouth a little more, and he aimed into your mouth, filling it up.
With the last bit he had in him, he pressed the tip of his cock to your forehead, drawing a cross right in the middle with the warm liquid. You shivered as you felt it, your eyes falling shut as you moaned. “Please…” you gasped helplessly.
“What is it, my child?”
Instead of answering him, you wrapped your hand around his and tugged slightly, pulling his erection down so you could wrap your lips around the tip of it. You suckled greedily, tasting the last few drops clinging to him and relishing the feel of his cock in your mouth, so warm and hard and full.
The hand on top of your head slipped down past your temple, his thumb pressing into your cheek as his fingers cradled your jaw. “You’re such a good girl,” he sighed, and you released his dick with a little pop to smile up at him.
“Do you feel better, my child?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Thank you, Father, for cleansing my soul,” you said, looking up at him with that worshipful gaze, and he felt his cock jump. You saw it, of course, and barely managed to bite back your smirk. He was so predictable sometimes.
Inevitably, you ended up on your hands and knees, still facing the altar, of course, as he pounded into you from behind. This was something he liked to claim was your ‘reward’ for being devout, but you both knew that it was as much a treat for him as it was for you. It was evident in the way he gripped your hips hard as he slammed into you, making the still-tender flesh of your bottom sting with pain that somehow enhanced the entire experience, in the breathless pants and grunts he couldn’t help but make as he fucked you.
“F—Father,” you pleaded, barely able to force the words out. “More, please.” You were so close, you just needed that little bit more to bring you over the edge.
“More?” His voice was similarly strained, the feel of your hot, slick pussy wrapped around him like a glove almost too much for him. Still, he had a role to play. “Greed is a sin, my child.”
“Please, please,” you mewled helplessly, unable to form more articulate sentences as he was fucking your brains out.
He huffed out a halfhearted laugh. “You’ll need to come back to absolve yourself of your new sins, child,” came the halfhearted admonishment. You both knew you’d be back next week anyway.
“Yes, Father,” you agreed eagerly, and obligingly, he reached around to press his fingers onto your clit, rubbing at it just so, his ability to discern exactly what you needed borne out of familiarity with your body.
“Cum on my cock then, you slut,” he hissed, and the dirtiness of his words, juxtaposed against the sight of the altar looming in front of you and how reserved and composed he’d been all evening did it for you. With a garbled moan, you came, clenching down on him repeatedly as you closed your eyes as the pleasure wracked your whole body.
Seokjin swore as he felt you tightening around him, his rhythm becoming erratic as he chased his own orgasm. “Fuck,” he groaned as it finally crashed over him, and he hunched over your body as his hips worked in half-aborted thrusts to milk out the last of his cum. When it was over, he lifted himself off you and collapsed on the ground next to you, uncaring of the mess he’d lain down in.
“I’m going to hell,” he sighed, looking up at you.
Your lips quirked into a half-smile. “See you there, then.”
prompt: old rock + can fulfill the ghostie bingo prompt
warnings: there’s a little making out in the end, so if you don’t like that, please be warned.
You roll your eyes in annoyance at the man in front of you. It is the third consecutive week that he has come to the store without making any purchases. The young man always wore all-black outfits, and would come by in the afternoons, granting you the honor of his visits. He would browse the store, flicking obnoxiously through the CD’s and records for hours on end.
One thing you had to give credits where the credit was due, however, was his impeccable sense of style. He dressed himself in a very unique and pristine manner; even as he tried to look badass, he most certainly looked soft and innocent. The amount of detail he put on his looks was nothing short of admirable. You caught yourself more than once enthralled by the way his earrings would dangle on his lobes.
The shop you work in is in a rundown spot of the city’s downtown which, in turn, had caused you to see all kind of people. Not many where as pretty as the handsome boy that was showing up so often, but you weren’t going to allow yourself to be biased; his pretty privilege had already cut him a lot of slack. You’ve grown impatient with waiting. It’s already been close to a month and the guy hasn’t bought anything.
Sucking in a breath, you think about your options. You have two: you either ignore him or finally set him straight. The choice is clear to you since your mama didn’t raise you to be a quitter. You feel yourself marching towards him before your mind processes the closeness between the two of you. You have your resting bitch face on and that’s what you attribute his stunned expression to as he gets even more wide-eyed.
With a silent sigh, you observe how he shifts in his spot, his legs alternating which one sustains his weight. Oh, boy, now he’s anxious? If anything, it’s you who should be.
“Hi,” you utter with a blank expression plastered on your face, adopting the most authentic salesperson persona you can. “We usually rather to let your customers pick what they want themselves, but you seem kinda lost. I’ve noticed you come to the shop often… I was wondering if you need help?”
He shifts under your gaze, looking absolutely caught off-guard. “Hmm, yeah,” he agrees while his hand goes to scratch his nape in a deflective move. “I could use some help… sorry about always leaving empty-handed. I’m just a very indecisive person.”
You chuckle lightly at that. The boy is super cute. “What are you looking for, pretty boy?”
“A gift.” He answers, and something evil stirs inside of you. You’re going to hell for the thoughts that swirls in your mind.
“A gift? For who? A significant other? A friend?” You query, subtly gauging his relationship status, and he seems to pick it up quite fast.
“It’s for a friend. We’re in a band together, and this store has many LPs that he’d like to add to his collection.” He explains, but he doesn’t keep eye contact for too long.
His cheeks heat up at how intently you pay attention to him. You figured that if he’d just waltz inside your workplace during three weeks to buy something, you had the prerogative to make him squirm.
“I like this one better,” you say as you pick up the Queen LP. “Their music definitely tells a story… I’m not quite sure about the words to describe it, but it just makes you feel nostalgic. In a good way, though. Makes your heart beat a little faster.”
As he stays quiet, you continue to go off about your favorite music in order to give him some insight in what to buy.
“Whereas this one,” you lay the LP in your hands down to grab another. “is kind of a little chaotic. I won’t say it doesn’t grow on you, but it’s a hard one to wrap your head around. At least for me.” You admit with a shrug.
“It’s hard to really get into it every time I try to listen.” His eyes were wide when you said that, and the pink shade that tainted his cheeks had started to creep up to his ears.
“I will take that one, then. Jimin will probably like it. He’s a chaotic person, so the concept suits him.” The man nodded.
“You sure? Don’t you want to hear a few tracks before you make a decision?” You question him, not wanting to be the one to blame in case the LP turns out to be a bad choice.
When he nods again in reassurance, you comply and walk back to the cash register, so you can ring up his purchase. What you don’t expect, however, is when he mutters: “What’s your name?”
You grin at the sheepish manner that he asks for it, and you wish you could hold his face between the palm of your hands seeing as he looks adorable, even with the pretense badass look. “Y/n. And yours?”
“Jungkook,” he replies earnestly.
“Well, Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you. Here’s your LP,” you announce and hand him the record. “It retails for a total of $15,99.”
He reaches on his pockets after taking the LP from you, and drops a 20-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change,” he whispers once he watches you moving around the register.
You gape at him briefly before you watch as he begins shifting again, and you could drool when he bites his already very pink lips. It’s not difficult to notice he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to, which is why you wait for him, Jungkook, with an expectant expression gracing your features.
“Thanks,” he settles on saying. Lifting the bag in hand, he clarifies. “For the LP, I mean.”
“You’re welcome,” you respond, a smile never leaving your face. “Thank you for your purchase. Hope you make good use of it.”
He still looks uncertain, but he nods and moves to the door to leave. “Yea, thanks again… Catch you a next time?”
It’s your turn to nod at his words. “Sure. See ya next time, Jungkook.”
When you return his hopeful sentiment, he beams, and as he makes his exit, you swear you could see a skip to his step.
Today was insanely hot, not even your outfit was helping, and you had chosen a smaller tank top paired with some bike shorts because of the weather. It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen Jungkook, and your days felt like clockwork. You hated that he spent weeks coming to the shop, but as soon as he was confronted about it (very nicely, you add), he stops passing by.
You weren’t sure if it was the sweltering heat, but what you knew for certain is that the day passed in an agonizingly slow pace. You could count in your two hands how many people had entered the stop, and for that reason, you decided to close earlier. It wasn’t super early to close, though; it was only 10 minutes before your actual schedule.
When you get to the door, however, you’re met with a pleasant surprise. A scarcely dressed Jungkook is sweating in front of you, gasping for air, and his eyes twinkle in street’s lighting. He looks delicious, and the neediness you often feel quickly rekindles at the glorious sight you were gifted with.
“Y/n, hi!” He greets you, but you can see he’s still a little breathless.
‘Hi,” you greet back, second-guessing what you should do. You cave to the needy part of you that wishes to eye the boy for a longer while. “I was just about to close up… but you’re sweating buckets. Do you want a glass of water?”
He only signals in consent, and you step out so he could enter. You close the shop regardless, since that way you’d spare yourself of the trouble of leaving it open and Jungkook stays behind, watching as you do so.
After you give him a huge glass of ice-cold water, you observe him suspiciously. Resting against the counter, you wonder what was he doing there? His eyes are mesmerizing, and even as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, they never stray from your figure. You smile smugly to yourself. Your tank top left your bountiful cleavage on display as well as your back tattoos, and you’ve been proved that such combo had an interesting effect in men.
“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” You finally speak up when he stays silent. He seems surprised because his eyes, which were glued to your chest, are suddenly looking back at yours.
“Like what you see?” You tease.
He blushes at your statement and his hand soon find his nape. You noticed his recurrent mannerisms relied a lot on body language, and you could sense how shy the boy actually is around you.
“I forgot…” He mumbles with uncertainty, then shakes his head. “I didn’t know how to… askforyournumber.”
“What?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowed.
“I didn’t know how to ask for your number.”
“Oh?” You gasp, then slowly stalk over to where he is. “Really? You should’ve told me… instead of coming to the show so many times, then vanishing.”
You watch in entertainment as his eyes widen so much, it looks like they could bulge out of their sockets. “Oh… I’m sorry about that.”
“How about this, Jungkook?” You say and your eyes flutter while staring at the beautiful boy, at the way his tongue moistens his lips. “You give me a kiss, and I give you my number. Would you like that?”
He nods repeatedly, eyeing your chest and tattoos wantonly. “Do you want to touch?”
Without saying anything, Jungkook touches the ink on your shoulders reverentially, his fingertips soon finding the crook of your boobs. You also put your hands on him, sneaking them underneath his shirt, and you swear you had to hold back a moan when you feel his pecs.
Needless of verbal communication, your lips brush against his, and he eagerly accepts the kiss. The pair of you kiss for minutes, his tongue brushes against yours sensually and you lose it when you feel Jungkook’s hard dick poke on your thigh. As you separate from one another, you realize you don’t want his manly hands to get off you.
Resting your hands on his chest while you gaze him through your lashes, you try to ask him out in the most nonchalant way. “Do you want to get out of here?”
His smile is blinding, and his hands grab your hips in reassurance. “I’d love to.”
The smile on your face is also uncontainable, so you rush to pick your stuff up and lock the backdoor. On your way out, you almost can’t believe you’re in fact walking hand-in-hand with the mysterious boy that thought dropping by at your work was a good flirting method.
If it was good, you didn’t know, but it was damn well effective.
a/n: Sammy !!! here it is, i envisioned the reader as you @breadoffoxy ily! Jester, @youarejesting, thank you for borrowing me your prompt. I hope to have done it justice. 🤍
⇢ genre: (long ass) one-shot, angst, partial fluff, thebreakfastclub!au, highschool!au, badboy!hoseok + fosterchild!hoseok, jock!jimin, nerd!namjoon, and seokjin as just your classic seokjin, childhoodfriends!au, friends to enemies to lovers
⇢ word count: 38.1k
⇢ warnings: explicit language, underage marijuana usage, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, themes of bullying, themes of depression/anxiety, mentions of mental abuse, cliché high school tropes, mutual pining (as always), homophobic themes, mentions of physical violence, mentions of explicit pictures
⇢ summary: who would have guessed that five separate events could converge into one shared Saturday detention? what emerged as an even bigger, yet pleasing surprise was the bonds that could form despite the contractual bindings of the high school cliques that you, jimin, namjoon, seokjin, and hoseok were assigned to.
♪ playlist: apple juice - jessie reyez • around - niki • ivy - frank ocean • friends - bts • dont you (forget about me - simple minds ♪
a/n: holy shit this was super fun to write!!! i was going to make this a series but instead i just impulse wrote this as a super long one shot. anyway i hope you enjoy! <3 also the playlist really does match the ~vibes~ so i hope y'all give it a listen :)
8:00 - 10:00
You blamed timing. It had been the only scapegoat to somewhat reconcile your seething frustration, though there was always that part of you that scorned your own poorly executed decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to say hi and discuss something as unimportant as the temperament of the weather with your teacher in passing, or if you didn’t skip your semi-weekly coffee, or if you hadn’t spent as much time inspecting the new flyers pinned onto the bulletin board then you could have avoided this conundrum. Timing, however, was completely out of your control, making it ideal to place blame on. That and the troublesome deviant who had you being held accountable for actions that were not of your own doing.
Jung Hoseok. Your once childhood best friend turned bitter and drifted towards a life of immorality and mild misdemeanors due to his series of unexplained personal calamities.
Even the nonverbal idea of his name had triggered aggressive animosity in you. Well, it felt like hatred; the burn in your chest whenever you thought of him felt like hatred, but you never dug deep enough to figure it out.
It was shocking that you could feel this despise with such severity, but Hoseok had that particular quality about him that seemed to make anything possible, though you could never quite place what that quality was. And of course, your path intersected with his at the exact wrong time and the exact wrong place. That particular quality had drawn a treacherous curiosity to influence you to linger a few seconds too long, another poor decision of yours. To top it off, the exact wrong person had caught you in this perfectly timed and unfortunate situation and convicted you on the grounds of guilt by association to land you a Saturday detention. Mulling over these consecutive misdirections was punishment enough to drag you miserably through the rest of the week; the detention waiting for you at the end of it was simply the cherry on top.
Apprehensive questions had always been your mom’s go-to tick when it came to you. The car ride to school had been flushed with them being that this was your first detention, let alone run-in with authority, in your entire academic career and your annoyance to her queries was more fuel added to the already monstrous fire of regret. This had produced some odd concoction of eagerness to escape this interrogation. Though you had no real desire to start this long day, your mom’s questions were the closest to giving a reason to that.
Your mother pulled up two blocks away from the library where you would be jailed for the next eight hours, and she packed in a few more questions to delay your departure. You and she sat in the car, marinating in the discomfort, waiting for the minutes to tick by until eight o’clock arrived. Your mother looked to you with pity and guilt as if she were delivering you to a slaughterhouse, not aiding to relieve the guilt of your own harbor.
“It’s just detention, Mom. It’s fine.” And you wished you believed it as much as you wanted her to.
“Did I remember to pack the apple?”
“Yes.”
“And the water bottle isn’t leaking anymore, right?” Her worried voice and demeanor had not been subtle in the slightest for this question had been asked about eight minutes ago in this same car ride.
“No, mom.” The bite in your response had warned her to relent her questions.
“Okay, I’ll see you at four.”
“I’ll see you.”
“I love you, ___.”
“Love you.”
Stepping out of that car, finally escaping from the perpetual, suffocating questions had you identifying the crisp Winter air as a comfort. The fog decorating the school’s roof and treetops looked like it wouldn’t recede. It was abhorrent, not being able to get a glimpse of the sun before an epoch of detention stole your last few seconds of freedom.
Your deep inhalations had formed a few puffs of clouds mixing with the surrounding fog, and you began to prepare entry into the penitentiary that others called the library. Your heart had been pounding from the momentum of frustration with your mom’s doting. However, it hadn’t ceased even when you parted ways because of the dread of facing Jung Hoseok once again.
If the thought of his name was enough to send you into a hurricane-like rage, you couldn’t imagine what type of disastrous storm awaited you being confined with him for the next eight hours.
The walk down these couple of blocks was paced intentionally to stall the beginning of this tortuous Saturday. Your strides had slowed substantially as they carried you down the halls of your high school, past the bulletin boards that hammered more guilt upon remembering that was one of the fatal mistakes that led you here, then past the school’s cafe that drilled the regret even deeper in your bones.
As you approached the doors to the library, you gripped the cold handle until it grew warm from your hand. A bit of time to breathe, compose and mask your nerves granted you half an ounce of dignity needed to open the door and step through the threshold. You walked over to the two rows of three desks and exchanged a cordial glance with the school’s renown football star, Park Jimin, seated at the front right table, in a manner that disguised your guilt with indifference. Then, you settled in the seat at the table behind his, finding this the optimal place to draw the least amount of attention.
The quiet boy sitting in the back of the rows had reacted with a noticeable surprise to see your face in this setting. He looked as embarrassed to be here as you felt, however, while you refused to show it, he draped it on his expression with little to no restraint. Both of you did not bother with the formality of a nod or smile, but a simple acknowledgment for the lack of proper acquaintance.
Though you had never had a personal interaction with him, you still knew his name to be Kim Namjoon and that he was characterized by everyone who knew him as the nerdiest kid in school. Quite a cliché, though you had no reason to think he was anything beyond that since his rounded eyeglasses and turtleneck sweater certainly upheld the truth in that stereotype.
The remnants of your intruded sleep felt heavy in your eyes which numbed your endurance to stay awake. Soon after the bothersome exhaustion almost conquered you into a sleep, a disarrayed body had fumbled through the doors snapping the heads of you, Jimin, and Namjoon towards him. He stood in front of the door, glancing back to it as if he were considering a swift escape from the concerned glares and embarrassment of the scene he had just made. And though there had only been three others to witness the progression of him rattling the handles, pushing against it with just enough force to unbalance him, and then nearly tripping into the eyes of his peers, it had been just enough to elicit a sizable amount of anxiety.
“Sorry, the door um…” He gestured towards it then towards the handle, then after bringing that same hand to his head to itch away his nervousness, “the door was jammed.”
None of you sitting in that book-filled jail cell cared, much less wanted to know the reason he barged in to interrupt the silence, but the way he fumbled through his words had been far too interesting and entirely ineffective in dismissing the unwanted attention.
Jimin had found this particularly amusing as he choked down a few laughs as not to raze the other boy’s ego completely, but his efforts had just drawn more awareness that he was laughing at him. The lanky figure with red-tinted ears and cheeks scuttled with a low hanging head to the front table, next to the one Jimin was seated at, without another word as to avoid further demoting his dignity.
Dignity was a funny thing to everyone in the library. It was handled differently by each body during this Saturday detention. Some were trying to protect it, some had paid no mind to tend to it, some (you) were trying to pretend it was undisturbed, and one had felt the weight of his diminishing dignity as no heavier than a feather.
This one, the same one that tormented you with his mere existence, had shoved the door out of his way in a manner of excitement. He strutted through the room to suggest he had some sort of twisted pride to be here and that his dignity fluctuated from the various looks of disgust, annoyance, confusion, and attraction.
Hoseok didn’t offer you more than a glance, although the scan of his eyes could hardly be counted as any sort of acknowledgment. In fact, he glared longer at Namjoon who had done everything in his power to surrender any dominance, already in scarce supply, and appear meek to avoid an altercation with Hoseok.
The other boy, Kim Seokjin, who had previously made a fool of himself, waved at Hoseok expecting to make a quick friend through his naive opportunism. Hoseok responded by lurching forward with his fist raised level with his shoulder in an advancement of hostility. Despite Hoseok being about ten feet away from him and in no realistic position to actually hit him, Seokjin flinched. His juvenile bullying proved to be ineptly humorous to everyone else in the library, except Seokjin who successfully lodged himself deeper in embarrassment.
For some reason, you were agitated that everyone else’s presence but your own was enough to earn his attention. It was beyond reason to want this man’s eyes to meet yours, and yet when it failed to do so, there was an unmistakable disappointment sitting in the place where you wanted Hoseok to look.
You knew it stemmed from the unsatisfied hope that he wouldn’t act like he didn’t know you once, that maybe he’d let the guarded past seep through and guide his eyes to rest on you gently, as they often used to do. But what did that matter? You hated him.
There was some shame that followed how you counted yourself lucky that he sat at the desk right behind you, giving you a perfect trajectory to shoot him a snide look. You hoped it would arouse guilt that he had been the reason you were here and that he couldn’t even present the decency of proper eye contact, though he most likely found it flattering from the way his lower lip slid between his teeth and a twisted grin formed. The quick avert of his wandering eyes had replaced the heat rising in your body with more disappointment.
“Hey, tool.” The voice behind you passed over your head to the target sitting in front of you. Jimin turned back to assure Hoseok was audacious enough to call him that name, “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
“What do you want, dickhead?” Jimin had been over this conversation before it even began, but he still played into Hoseok’s little game. He too had succumbed to that particular quality of Hoseok’s that had many people wanting to argue with him. Nowadays, it seemed to be the only way to get a bit of his attention.
“Ooh, dickhead.” Hoseok’s low scoff had interrupted him momentarily, and the toss of his feet on top of the desk and lean in his chair drained a bit of suspenseful tension into the air, “Those are big boy words. Someone’s been drinking their big boy juice!” His voice was caked in a sharp taunt that had Jimin’s fists contracting into themselves, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his palms from his fingernails.
“What’s your problem, dude? Just leave me alone. I didn’t even say anything to you.” Turning his body to face away was not nearly enough to evade Hoseok’s mission of infuriating Jimin just for the hell of it.
The boy, layered in a black leather jacket over a red flannel, mounted the desk and jumped onto yours then Jimin’s with a racket of stomps that echoed between the shelves of books. You looked over to the spot on your table where his foot landed, grimacing at the dirt residue of his shoe print and the whiff of nicotine Hoseok left in his wake. Your attention, along with Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s, was soon shifting over to Hoseok who slumped into the chair beside Jimin, all in deep anticipation of what the delinquent would do next.
Your focus was trained on his fingers that pushed through his hair, exposing his forehead, and if you weren’t so invested in his interaction with Jimin, you might have noticed the pesky butterflies flitting around your stomach.
“Can I help you?” Jimin didn’t give Hoseok the satisfaction of another turned head, making Hoseok greedy and frustrated with Jimin’s passive protest.
“I just wanna know…” The glance he shot to you sent shivers through your body, but you knew there was some mischief in this look, “You and princess over there are fucking?”
“What the hell?” These words had escaped from your mouth before you had the chance to fully construct a more dignified response. Jimin looked to you in attempts to apologize on behalf of Hoseok’s foul tongue. Seokjin’s ears had grown into a much deeper red upon hearing these obscenities and Namjoon’s eyes had widened almost as large as his jaw-dropped mouth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t even know ___ like that.” Hoseok sat on the desk to face you with a smirk of such arrogance that it riled a combative sneer from your face.
“So, you’re telling me, you’ve never slipped him the tongue, ___? I swear I could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”
“You’re delusional.” Jimin cut in.
“Maybe. I couldn’t be as delusional as you, being concussed probably a hundred times from rolling around in the grass with your football friends.”
“As if a loser like you knows anything about me or my friends!”
“You like rolling around with your brain-dead guy friends?”
“What did you say?” What Hoseok was alluding to hadn’t been a reference to what Jimin perceived it as, though it had gashed against a rather sensitive spot. More so a personal, secretive spot and Jimin sewed his lips shut in fear to push Hoseok any further.
“Shut up, Hoseok! Everyone stop acknowledging him. He just wants attention.” Though what you had said was true, and everyone surely agreed on that, Hoseok had drawn in each of you and had you all completely wrapped around his finger in minutes.
You seemed to be spooled around it the tightest as your eyes were now at war against his piercing glare. A small ten seconds grew into eternity when you were under his gaze and the canopy of memories it seemed to hold, and when it was torn away from you there was a sense of relief and exhilaration tilling through you.
Hoseok would never admit to it, but your eyes had almost faltered his own, almost moved him to an obedience that would have him sitting down at his desk and shutting up. There was a bloated discomfort with his recollection of your power over him, especially uncomfortable with the fact that the years of distance hadn’t diminished it in the slightest. Nor had it given him the time to muster a tolerance against your gleaming eyes. This pushed him to look towards the nerdish boy sitting in the back.
“What about you, nerd? Ever gotten down and dirty? I’m sure you haven’t but maybe ___ could help you out with that.” Namjoon was stiff except for his hands that had been quivering the moment Hoseok began directing his torments towards him. Maybe it wasn’t the hollow comments that had angered you, but the fact that he still wouldn’t find the nobility in himself to face you when he disgraced your name in such explicit ways. Or the fact that each time he failed to meet your eyes, you only felt yourself wrapping tighter around his finger.
“You’re an ass, Hoseok.” Jimin muttered under his breath because part of him was too afraid to address him with full confidence.
“Jealous, meathead?”
“Didn’t you hear ___? No one cares for the bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”
“Yeah, that’s the point. If no one cares, then I can say whatever the hell I want.”
Someone did care, not that he had the mind or attention span to notice how even in hatred, you felt natural to be at his side again. Or rather, in between the crossfires of Hoseok and Jimin’s deafening stare-off. The letterman jacket covering Jimin’s torso had instigated Hoseok to flick the flap of his collar against Jimin’s cheek. He was swift to knock Hoseok’s hand and now his anger gave him the motive to speak louder.
“Don’t start with me again, asshole.”
Hoseok performed a fake shudder in the face of the confidence born in Jimin’s tone. The two have now risen to their feet and inches away from their noses brushing against each other. Jimin’s hands had repositioned into the same fists of enragement while Hoseok called Jimin’s aggression and raised him with his arms folding across his chest. Seokjin’s nails were being fervently trimmed by his teeth and Namjoon shifted to the edge of his seat. It was clear neither of their prideful masculinities would allow for them to subside from this standoff. Who would make the first move, however, had yet to be unraveled and thrilled everyone to oblivion in the dimly lit library.
Again, your eyes couldn’t be ripped from Hoseok and how his white tank top had clung against his heaving chest. The way his cocked eyebrow and ego had the strength of a crazed hurricane, one that swept you up in its winds with no trace of mercy. Still, there was nothing that could peel your eyes away from him, not even the rampant air currents thrashing through the library. Your focus had nearly distracted you from displaying your shameful affinity towards his arrogance and intimidation. Internally, you were sure you would have been salivating profusely with the way your mouth hung open. On the outside, you only stared, leaving the rest of what that meant up to Hoseok’s imagination.
Has it really been long enough to note that his shoulders broadened and his jawline sharpened?
Timing played its incessant role as the overly suspicious Vice Principal Donald Dickson walked in, ridding the library of what could have resulted in bruised eyes and busted knuckles. Jimin and Hoseok sat down upon hearing the tick of the door handle, before the supervisor fully walked through the door and set his eyes on this group of expectant students. A beat of silence clung onto the space between the five of you, now six including the Vice Principal, and Dickson took in the sights of what he perceived were cowardice troublemakers sitting in the desks before him.
“Hello, everyone. You’re here today because you did something wrong. A wrong that needs to be punished. And what better way to do that than wasting away your Saturday?”
His words had been spoken from an embittered tongue, eager to thread more guilt into each one of you. Truly the only thing more distasteful than his mustard colored tie paired with a navy blue collared shirt was his arrogance. In seconds, he squeezed the excess space between the five students, cramming you all, almost unwillingly, into a team against him. The surplus of space, flushed out by his own demean, drifted him further away. He stepped closer to the desk, specifically to the leather-coated boy slouched in his chair and leaned forward intending to tempt Hoseok into picking a fight with him.
“Welcome back, Hoseok.”
Dickson's arrogance began to singe the air, making the space smell rancid as if something had been rotting in this library for months.
“Good to be back, buddy!” His sarcastic chide sat horribly with Dickson, feeling this pet name as a challenge to his authority. And if something as trivial as the word ‘buddy’ stung him so, he couldn’t have been less prepared for the comment about to spill from Hoseok’s mouth, “How ‘bout we go for dinner after this, Donald? Oh, actually never mind. Looks like you’ve been eating enough for the both of us.”
Normally, his empty insults would have passed through Dickson’s head but he had been in a bad mood today. The heckling had sent him right over the edge and gave him the opportunity to take his frustrations out on Hoseok.
“It’s Mr. Dickson to you. And you just earned yourself another Saturday detention.” Said with the slam of his hand against the table. All but Hoseok jumped from the slap that reverberated through the halls. The underlying tactic to put his foot down, or rather his hand down, lost its effect on the one person it was meant for; Hoseok saw this as a reciprocated challenge and was always up for a way to reclaim his domain.
“Don’t be stingy, how ‘bout another one?” Doing the exact opposite of what Dickens wanted, testing his power even more, though to Hoseok his power was nothing more than a pathetic hunger for any sort of authority, something missing from his life outside of work. If bossing around children was the only outlet to feed this obsession, Hoseok saw to it to make this worth his while.
“Fine! You got one!”
“Can’t wait to see you again, babe.”
“That's it! All your Saturdays for the rest of the month are gonna be spent here, with me. You happy now?”
“Over the moon.”
“Hoseok, stop it.” Even though your plea had been a whisper, it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Hoseok snuck a glance to your disapproving face. You’d been surprised to meet his unworried expression, despite arguing with Dickson and sacrificing all his Saturdays for the sake of knocking the vice principal down a few steps on the hierarchical ladder. His attention to you was stolen by Jimin.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Jimin had his head facing down in compliance as if he were setting an example for Hoseok. Just minutes ago, they were at each other’s throats, but Dickson had this vulgarity in his threats that excelled in earning him the title as the most hateable person known to humankind, of a much higher rank than Hoseok, and that forged some unspoken solidarity between all of you. If it hadn’t been for Dickson, Jimin and Hoseok would have broken into an all-out brawl. Instead, it smoothed the dynamic between the two boys to a shielding defense of one another.
“Shut it, Park. Or you’ll get one too.”
It took everything in your willpower to not scoff at Dickson’s insolence. You, personally, had quite a bone to pick with him as he was the exact wrong person that caught you, withheld the opportunity to explain yourself, and unjustly held you responsible for simply being in the vicinity of the crime scene. As much as you hated Hoseok, there had been nothing so compelling of your hatred than Dickson.
“Now, each of you will write an essay.” All five mouths groaned in response to this, “Yeah, yeah. You’ll write an essay whether you like it or not. You will sit here for eight hours, not say a word, not move unless it's to write your essay, and not even think about trying to leave.”
“What if we have to go to the bathroom?” This was a genuine question masked with innocence, however it doubled as a ploy for Namjoon to aggravate Dickson.
“Well, you’ll hold it!”
“Mr. Dickson, you’re definitely supposed to let us go to the bathroom.” You added.
“Even prisoners get to go to the bathroom.” A comparison laid out by Hoseok, quite fitting as Dickson seemed to treat you all lower than the dirt lodged between the ridges of his shoes.
“You don’t tell me what I can or can’t do!” Dickson grew red in the face, a sight for the sore eyes of the five prisoners in this library.
“So, you expect us to hold it all day?” Jimin tossed his own objection in this dispute.
“I expect you to do what I say, or do you three want to join your little friend next Saturday?” Dickson didn’t hold his tongue or restrain the volume of his voice that was barking this unreasonable demand. The wag of his fingers was as if he had truly asserted any real or respectable power over the five of you. Seokjin released the chuckle that had been brewing in his chest ever since Dickson began spouting his hollow threats.
“Something funny, kid?”
Yes, you’re making an ass of yourself, you thought.
“Nope just… thought of something that happened earlier today. Like, way earlier today, uh, a joke! It was funny, so…” Now you were all at the mercy of Dickson’s comical attempt to have students worship him.
Jimin’s head had buried deeper towards his chest to mask the tears forming from holding his laughter behind his teeth, while Namjoon utilized the cover of his hand to fence in his. You and Hoseok had been trading off with noiseless snickers that exhaled as huffs of breath when Dickson had turned his back to check the time.
“It is eight thirty-two. You punks have a good six and a half hours until four comes, so I suggest you take the time to work on your essays. If you don’t finish, you’ll be back here next week to do just that. You’re going to write about what you did wrong, and why it was wrong, along with a long, thoughtful apology for what you did.” Dickson paced back and forth in the front of the desks with the sets of eyes, minus Hoseok’s, following his body. Two things stood with a backless stance in yet another empty threat of Dickson’s. One, there were not any grounds for Dickson to mandate another Saturday detention if the five of you didn’t finish an unrequired essay. Hoseok had the pleasure of pointing out Dickson’s other incorrect claim.
“Seven.”
“What?” One could see the steam pouring from his ears and nostrils as he halted as if Hoseok’s retort acted as a hurdle placed in his path.
“We have seven and a half hours until four.”
“That’s what I said.”
Jimin’s eyes had rolled back at Dickson’s inability to ever admit he was wrong, a trait only painting him into a bigger joke. You shook your head softly because the stillness you were trying to maintain was too overwhelming to handle, and this seemed to ease the second-hand embarrassment raging through you each time Dickson opened his mouth.
“No, you definitely said six. You said ‘you punks have a good six and a half hours until four’. Then Hoseok said ‘seven’ and then you said ‘what’ and then he said ‘we have seven and a half hours until four’ and then you sa-”
“Enough!” Dickson exclaimed.
Seokjin spoke innocently to give a correction to Dickson. His shallow grasp of social cues often had his well-intentioned actions trilling off his tongue with a sting to Dickson’s pride. Though, nothing had done more harm to Dickson’s pride than the prance of his half delusional authority before the eyes of those who had their own reasons for being stuck here. None, however, had been as lewd as the tyrannical reasons that drove Dickson here.
“Watch your tone, kid.”
“Who else heard Dickson say six?” Hoseok asked after raising his hand high, followed by Jimin, Namjoon and you casting your concurring votes. Seokjin’s slow uplift of his hand was soon diverted to play off his affirmation as scratching his head. Hoseok’s smirk bloomed from the majority’s favor with him, and the one effortful but ultimately silenced support of Seokjin.
“Looks like the Is have it!”
“Whatever! I’ll be back to check on you all in a couple hours. No moving from your seats. No talking.” He felt the slight of each of your hands, depleting his once esteemed title of vice principal to a speck of dust that did nothing more than agitate the noses of unimpressed students. The stiffness in all your muscles began to deteriorate from Dickson’s reluctant retreat, having you loosening the clench of your jaw. Watching Dickson wrangle the handle of the broken door before a gruff exit had assisted in soothing your nerves.
Not long after he left, not even a few seconds after the door closed, Hoseok felt an itch for not-so-civil disobedience and scratched a sweet relief to that by walking over to Namjoon, who had been scribbling on the paper that should have been filled with the assigned essay. He snagged the paper from the pencil once being grazed against it and jerked his hand away to evade Namjoon’s attempt at retrieving the stolen item.
Everyone else’s attention had been forthcoming, and all found the contents of Namjoon’s paper much more worthy of their time than the essay was. Hoseok took a second for his own inspection as his lips curved to a quiet grin. Before Namjoon got the chance to explain it, Hoseok cruised along to the front of the room to behold to the rest of you the picture etched onto the paper.
“It looks like we got an artist on our hands.” Though it was heavy with teasing, there had been a cloaked adoration in Hoseok’s word. It was almost as if he were showing Namjoon’s talent off through the guise of badgering. You hadn’t known the man before you in the same way you knew him as a child, yet you still picked up on this through the lilt of his voice.
It dawned on you then; no matter how many years past and how the roads of change diverted you in life-altering directions, there would always be a piece of the inner child in you. Small and fainter than the drop of a pin, but still there. You saw the kind child that Hoseok used to be still rummaging around deep within, trying to find its way to the surface.
Hoseok took notice of your perceptive glare that had differed from the others; your eyes always whispered something more that made him equal parts elusive towards you and troubled that maybe you’d been able to crack open his once impenetrable veil. The crusted formation of his toughened skin soaked in your eyes, making it softer and easier to see through.
“Is that-” Your eyes squinted to focus on the detailing of the drawing, “Is that me?” The simultaneous glares of everyone onto Namjoon had caused a slight perspiration to fog the lens of his glasses.
It was unmistakable, the face and shadowing were a near perfect imitation of yours, but the sharpness of each line exuded a striking tenacity quite the opposite of the demure front you upheld. A tenacity that felt indicative of a desperation for something; to Namjoon, it was clear in your eyes there had been a facet in your life missing which left you feeling robbed. This tore through you like lightning, leaving you to discover the source of what had been robbed of you.
“Looks like I was wrong. The sexual tension wasn’t between meathead and ___, but bookworm and ___.” The blush on your cheeks wasn’t nearly as red as Namjoon’s entire face. “My sincerest apologies, please tell us how you and ___ fell in love. I wanna know every little detail.”
He’d considered various routes of excuses, such as the picture wasn’t of you, or that maybe he’d absentmindedly sketched your features simply because you were in the same room but there would be no avail in either. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t accept that, backing him against the wall of shared curiosity between the other four, so Namjoon resolved that telling the truth was far more becoming of him than protecting the last of his dignity.
“To be fair, I drew almost everyone in the room.” He slipped a few papers from underneath his notebook, accompanied by an exasperated sigh, all depicting his own interpretation on his peers sitting before him. Each one held some unfeigned element of you all, not of intention though also not of coincidence, that drained the multiple facades to ineffectiveness until they were completely impotent. Everyone had gathered around Namjoon’s desk looking for their own picture, and neither Jimin nor Seokjin were prepared to face theirs.
“Yo, this is sick!” Jimin had his portrait between his fingers, eyes scaling the led sketch that accentuated his more flattering features. It was pleasing in the beginning but as he examined with more scrutiny that feeling had been sullied into fear. There had been a glint of worry in the eyes of Jimin’s drawing that had his once excited smile fading into a humbled concern of the growing nuances this small detail suggested. Jimin was just glad everyone else was concentrated on their own portrait so no one would be able to see this unsettling vulnerability strewn into the drawing.
Seokjin’s was a rather accurate paradigm of his eccentric expressions and attitude. To his surprise, this was given a more favorable look to what most people thought were awkward tendencies; it had become the focal point of the portrait as if there had been some unadulterated goodness in his heart that Namjoon seemed to be the only one to see. And below that surface of the painting, there was a tired expression bleeding through the excited one. All at once, his burdens seemed lucid and bare within the positivity intended to circumvent those exact burdens.
“I didn’t know you drew.” Jimin broke the silence with what he believed to be a keen observation. Namjoon found it quite daunting of him to act like this had been some revelation that the rest of you shared.
“Well, you never asked. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation.” There had been an edge ruminating within the words Namjoon spoke that blew through the air and raised a few hairs on Jimin’s neck.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that we’ve been in art class together all year and my art has just now caught you by surprise.” The accusations in his tone shriveled Jimin into a corner of odd mortification for his ignorance of those who didn’t run in his circle. What made matters worse was there could be no proper objection to what Namjoon said, as he looked around to each of your faces trying to recount any memorable interaction with you all. It would be more fitting to call the rest of you strangers than acquaintances, let alone schoolmates, and least of all friends.
“I-” All words had been brushed to a place unworthy of being verbalized.
“Meathead has better things to attend to than talking to us lowlifes, Namjoon.” Hoseok cut off Jimin’s already lost train of thought.
You and the four others were now positioned in a circle, though some sitting on the floor and others finding a seat on top of the desks, you were all in this circle, together. The outside world had given you all the freedom to choose who you talked to, what kinds of people you associated with. Perhaps too much freedom that amounted in severed connections and missed opportunities to meet those who might serve as beneficial to your life. However in this room, in the crowded library which held that freedom from you all and granted you an even better gift of contingency, there had been an irresistible gravitation to seek entertainment through each other and learn what would have gone unlearned if not for the five different mishaps that led the five individuals to this room.
“I never said you were a lowlife!”
“Oh, but you were thinking it. Admit it.”
“Are you ever going to stop talking?”
“Are you ever going to stop using the entire bottle of Axe body spray or do you want us to lose our sense of smell?” Namjoon and Seokjin were more humored by this comment than you had been. Not because you didn’t find it funny, and it was all too true to foster any denial from Jimin and anyone in a ten foot radius of the boy, but because you kept busy wondering how the transition of the once sweet-tongued Hoseok had developed him to acquire such a thirst for belittlement. Or perhaps, why he had undergone this caustic transformation.
“Oh, like you’d ever be caught with me or Jimin at one of your parties with all your hoodlum friends.” You shot him this retort aspiring to sour his praise from the two other boys.
“You wanna party with me, sweetness? I think I can arrange that.” It was surprising, the sarcastic offer, and it suggested that he wasn't the one who initiated the drift of your friendship. That had struck some chord with you because you were certain it was all his doing, and subsequently cleared your tongue of a witty retort that would shut him up. He shifted from his crossed legged pose to dangle his legs from the end of the table that sat behind where your back had been. The tip of his foot had nudged against your shoulder blade in a tease to which you hastily swat his dark boot away.
“Fuck off, Hoseok.”
“You’re the one who brought it up! Don’t be shy, I’d love to see you get plastered with me and my, as you call it, hoodlum friends.” He had been a few more light kicks away from you landing your hand against the side of his cheek. To his luck, your resolve had kept your hands folded in your lap.
“In your dreams.”
“I’d party with you!” Seokjin’s idealism had interrupted your exchange with Hoseok as his eyes, now raked with astonishment, moved to the boy sitting diagonally from himself.
“I'm sorry, did you say something?” Hoseok asked. Jimin’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while you had surrendered to the foot still digging into your upper back to turn towards Seokjin as well.
“Um, just that I’d hang out with you.” A bit of regret had a stutter leaking through his words.
“I wouldn't want to interrupt your bible study with my hoodlum parties.” Thickly layered sarcasm was just another social cue Seokjin was wholesomely unaware of, or perhaps he’d caught onto Hoseok’s aim to insult but didn’t care about it as much as you and the others had.
“I’m not even religious and I can handle parties! I’ve been to lots of parties.” He had fooled no one in the library with that statement. Seokjin’s volume had tapered off towards the end, filling the quiet of his voice with even more regret. There was a force out of his control that had him spewing the first thoughts that popped into his head through an unfiltered mouth.
“Bud, you are the human embodiment of an unwanted boner. Stiff? Yes. Annoying? Check! Something no one wants at their parties let alone in their pants? One hundred percent.” The rest of you, but mostly Jimin, had given up on taking the high road. This was made obvious to Seokjin and Hoseok through the contagious laughter afflicting the three of you, and even Seokjin couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the ends of his lips.
“Hey Hoseok, come look.” Namjoon’s beckon was said seconds before a few more taps of his pencil against the paper. It wasn't in his nature to call out to someone like Hoseok, but the need for him to face his painting had given his words the momentum to be spoken.
His approach had been a bit too unsuspecting; he didn’t think to craft a strong guard for seeing his portrait that he’d been waiting for. That had been a grave mistake.
Hoseok stared at the page as if he had seen a ghost. Though it was not one of an unfamiliar face, the apparition had been the mirror image of him. With the glide of his pencil, Namjoon haunted the man with the impenetrable veil to a state of uncharacteristic lethargy. You were sitting right behind him, giving you the perfect vantage point to witness the picture of a man being stripped from his conceit. In the drawing, he was crying. This had nearly gone unnoticed from the obstruction of your vision by his shoulder.
Nearly, but it was the first detail that caught your eye. It was eerily familiar, like Deja-vu. Even if the others were to see it, they wouldn’t have distinguished how this had illustrated a portrayal awfully close to the innocence of a younger Hoseok, of which only you had been acquainted with, and he immediately crumpled it to a ball before you were able to collect any more of the details to your memory.
“What kind of shit are you trying to pull, huh?” His demanding question stripped the lighthearted atmosphere from the room. The cuff of Namjoon’s turtleneck joined the shriveled paper in his hand as Hoseok yanked him to a weak stand and an even weaker defense.
Jimin compensated for Namjoon’s frailty with a firm grasp on both of Hoseok’s arms followed by pulling him away to stop what could have been a brutal beating. The paper had fallen from Hoseok’s hand which went unseen because he was struggling to free himself from Jimin’s strong grasp, which was cultivated through his athleticism.
“Bro, calm down!”
“Hoseok, stop being like that!” Your voice had his scowl now directing towards you, still maintaining the weathered clutch on your heart. There was no ambiguity in fear. One thing often scarce in Hoseok's eyes, but you saw it then. You knew his anger wasn’t of shallow disliking to the picture, but what it exposed of him that he was trying so desperately to mask.
Seokjin had taken it upon himself to see what triggered the fumed reaction from Hoseok by picking up the paper and stretching out the wrinkles enough for proper inspection. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why Hoseok would waste his temper on something as trivial as a few fictitious tears. With one more thrust of Hoseok’s shoulder, he escaped Jimin’s distracted hold and swiped the paper from Seokjin before anyone else had the chance to see it.
Hoseok wished you hadn’t seen it, as well as the other boy. The troubling fear in the painting, and how it reflected that particular quality onto him, though in an entirely new light. He wished it were gentler, the reflection; he wished it didn’t cut deep enough to carry a brutalizing truth. He wished it wasn't a reflection at all, that instead it was a misjudgment or an oversight. And he had no idea you saw past what Seokjin saw as just penciled tears on a paper. His shields of iron and skin were in no position to stand against your eyes.
They never were.
“What the fuck are you looking at, freak?”
“Hobi, don’t call him that.”
And with the utterance of the long-abandoned nickname, Hobi, it had sparked a sequence of memories to rattle through Hoseok’s mind. He was collapsing into himself, into the memories of you and your voice possessing exclusivity to the nickname that held a sentiment of which he’d almost forgotten. The scenes had tranquilized his boiling fury to a light simmer. Such nostalgia had that effect on his mind, as well as expelling the surroundings of the library from each of his senses and replacing them with sweet, untouched memories.
The fragrance of fresh linen and lemon crowded his nose, the same way it would when he would walk into the comfort of your home. Long ago, when his arrival required no invitation, but was an expected, weekly affair. And during tough times, it grew in frequency.
His nose would grow to associate the smells of linen and lemon with your home of pure safety, then into the arms of your mother whose delight had gone almost unmatched when she saw him. However, it never surmounted the ripples of joy you would feel when you were greeted with his arrival, and you believed you would never have to miss that feeling. This scent sailed him into the tragically estranged feeling of safety, now a malicious craving for it to return pooled in his chest; missing the feeling of safety he once had with you almost hurt more than the actual absence of it.
Though he wondered if it truly was the nickname ‘Hobi’ that swept him in a melancholic reminiscence, or the stark smell of fresh linen and lemon invading his nose. He wondered why it was that no other person had ever made him remember such insignificant details of his past that were too good to hold onto. He wondered if it really were the nostalgic scents and nickname, rather than the person who they reminded him of; all the good, safe things that left with you and your budding friendship.
The muffled voices of those around him were just enough to crack through the tent of reminiscence.
“It’s okay to cry, Hoseok. We all know you just act tough but inside you care about what others think just as much as the rest of us.” That comment had been restitution for Hoseok’s previous jab at Jimin’s body spray misusage.
“Yeah, I cry all the time! Just the other day-” Seokjin chimed with agility from the quickly fading regret.
“Please stop talking. Please don’t make me punch you.” Jimin’s interruptive threat crammed back the thoughtless anecdote about to spill from Seokjin’s mouth.
“Wait, I’d actually like to see that. Seokjin, keep going.” To Namjoon, the idea of a boyish fight between the two sounded far more entertaining than whatever story Jimin had stopped Seokjin from sharing. “Why are you so afraid of crying anyway?”
“Yeah why?”
“Tell us, Hoseok.”
Consecutive questions such as these held a violence equivalent to assault in Hoseok's mind. He’d been cornered, his eyes that once couldn't bear to rest on you before now seemed to plead with yours for a salve from these bombardments. And you couldn’t tell if you hated him or the fact that with one look, he had winded you tighter around his finger.
“Hoseok is just mad because he cried during Marley and Me.” You said, quick to scavenge for a decent distraction. Your memory of watching this movie with him about ten years ago had been far too riveting to keep to yourself.
In fact, you rationed it positively selfish to hoard something as enthralling as Jung Hoseok crying real tears, not like the ones on Namjoon’s drawing. And part of you, part of him too, knew this was done in favor of Hoseok to misdirect the rest of them from the actual root of his anger. Exploring the soul-bearing secrets he kept hidden beneath his thick skin was a venture overwhelmed by terror and discomfort. You felt this through that look glazing his eyes, and figured the Marley and Me incident was a worthy sacrifice to protect something far too fragile to tread on. The four of you were now swimming through a lake of laughter as Hoseok tried to suppress his annoyance, and especially his gratefulness to what you had done for him.
It began then, the struggle. He found the constant maintenance of keeping his skin intact over his heart forfeiting to your offer of kindness. As much as he tried to press the skin back onto himself, it would shed almost a bit too easily.
“What kind of heartless monster doesn’t cry at a dying dog? You’re all insufferable.” Hoseok stood up, turning away from the belly-aching giggles still erupting from you and the other three, “And I was eight years old. And ___ cried harder.” His trudge to the back of the room, away from the commotion of the drawings, was gorged in a strange distrust.
There was the possibility he had spilled one too many secrets with his long, catatonic silence after the way you called him that name. How you all had established a comfort to open yourselves to a partially amiable conversation together and that Hoseok felt like he was the one standing on the outside looking in.
Thus, leaving Hoseok feeling betrayed, distrustful, and fumbling over where to place the blame.
With himself, the full-fledged outing of his feelings that were ripped from his chest by his own hand without the consent of his mind. It felt unlawful, like he was unwillingly breaking his own rules. Or perhaps blame lied with the people who took one look at his leather jacket and paid zero caution when shedding a few layers of the deceitful front of his skin. What was left was the outer shell, the once impenetrable veil lying on the floor, and a man without his protective skin, open and raw and sensitive, though scared of vulnerability above all else.
The rest of you followed suit to return to your empty chairs, ignoring how the air was damp with a complex rigidity that none of you felt equipped to handle. No one, least of all you, had been sure of what to do with the discomfort that sterilized the air with nothing but the sounds of five syncopated breaths, longing for some release of this silent torture.
You were sure of two things.
First, you hated Hoseok and he showed his reciprocation of that through the flipped middle finger when you braved a glance back to him. Second, you concluded that the reasons pillaring your hatred for him had changed within two of the eight hours in this library. It was astounding, torn between being impressive and pathetic the way he’d roped you back into the sentiment of the young, inseparable children residing in the darker caverns of your hearts.
The younger you that handed him a tissue and a shoulder to lean on, a gift of nothing close to judgement, when you had seen him crying at that sad movie. The younger him that in many ways held a strapping debt over your head for rescuing you from numerous bullies throughout elementary and middle school and a long spell of loneliness from your lack of friends in your younger years. The two mellow hearted friends attached at the hip, and the heart, that skipped along the steps of life as if misery and loneliness were nightmares lived out by those who didn’t have a person like Hoseok in their lives. They were locked away for quite some time and remained that way due to the abundance of freedom that this library had suspended.
Because in the library, you couldn't run or hide.
Hoseok was sure of one thing, and one thing only. It was far clearer than the tainted air of the library along with the fogged arena of the outside world, and brighter than the way your eyes still outshined the shadow of his own pain; the irrefutability was beyond the depths of the ocean.
His heart had been broken, pulverized to a dust, for far too long and it was because of how dearly he missed you and the safety that accompanied you.
If you looked closely, you could see past his skin to his bones and all the secrets and scars carved in them.
10:00 - 12:00
Timing. What you thought was an incarnation of the devil itself, seemed to torture you through today like it had a personal agenda against you. The five students and their endurance of boredom had been eroded from the minutes that felt like hours and the confiscated cell phones leaving you all to the devices of screenless misery.
The silence continued stalking the air, still just as heavy and nuanced as before. You wondered why the quiet didn’t feel all that quiet. In turn, it was nothing less than an earthy rumble at this point, like the ground was ready to shake and knock every book from the shelves around you. Every time your eyes would meet with another one of your peers, they’d be instantly veered with a quick glance towards the ceiling or down at the blank papers sitting on the desks before them. Hoseok fell asleep long before you had the chance to read the hints of his mind that were lightly seasoned in his eyes, that seemed to have a way of avoiding you today.
Still without some of his skin, and now the loss of his dignity joined. Because of that, he was tired and needed to sleep. It had more or less been Hoseok’s melodramatic efforts to recoup for the loss that put him in a moped mood; you not being in his life was the little secret that fringed his heart far worse than Namjoon’s portrait.
Maybe if you would have let him know that yours and the others’ dignities had been left at the broken door of the library then he wouldn’t be as mortified. At the time, you didn’t feel like it had been your job to do so which was retrospectively an all too uncompassionate choice. A bad choice. Far worse than the ones you made to lead you to detention.
Seokjin and Jimin had been tossing crumpled pieces of binder paper and shooting them in the trash can with high spirits, the heavy boredom of detention being cut through by their makeshift basketball game.
“That's fifteen.” A gloat followed Jimin’s victorious fist shaking but soon to be shut down by Namjoon.
“No, that was fourteen.” He held the paper where two sets of tallies were marked side by side under the initials J and S.
“What? I was counting too and that was fifteen!”
“Ha! Read it and weep.” Seokjin teased.
“Jin, shut up! You've made like three.”
Namjoon checked the paper and confirmed Jimin’s rebuttal with a thumbs up. Your resting head on the palm of your hand shook with laughter at the scowl plastered across the boy's face, which had made a habit of blushing a bright red in regret of his comments.
Seokjin said nothing to this, instead proceeded to crumple four more pieces of paper now encased in his hand.
“Well now it's gonna be seven.” He had made this claim a bit too soon after the sling of his arm amounted to all four paper balls bouncing off the rim of the trash can and scattering onto the floor. Having all three of you laugh broke the fourth boy’s slumber, but he went about it calm. Hoseok’s eyes opened, quiet and slow, and none of you noticed he had regained his consciousness.
Dickson’s return had hushed the last bit of laughter along with the surprising enjoyment circulating through the third hour of detention. This time, Dickson was mindful of your collective vendetta against him which was why he had been armored with even more aggression than the last time. The mix of you four riding off the delights of playing with the little entertainment made available and Dickson’s heavily loaded disdain would make for quite a reactive outcome. There had been a lewd displeasure of finding littered papers along the floor adding to his frustration.
“Which one of you imbeciles were tossing around paper balls when you should have been writing your essays?” The unresponsive silence pushed him over the edge of annoyance, “Well?”
His earth-shattering holler had fully awoken Hoseok who joined the unconcerned teens in this noiseless stare off. A yell or a whisper wouldn’t have made a difference by the means of intimidation since none of you could take seriously a man who missed the step of re-zipping his fly after going to the bathroom. The five of you were urged to point it out, though none of you felt the need to bury him even lower in all of your regards; he did that quite adequately and consistently on his own.
“We all just really want to do well on our essays! What you call paper balls were the triumphant efforts of remorseful students, sir.” Any resistance to Hoseok’s humorous antagonizations towards Dickson were depleted by the second round of his arrival. Namjoon demonstrated his agreeance with a snide head nod joined by Jimin who also nodded some proof to Hoseok’s lie.
“Really? Is that true, Seokjin?”
“Yes, we all just want to better ourselves, sir.” Singling the evidently weakest willed student did not go over the way Dickson had hoped. He stood by Hoseok’s lie even if he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Dickson. There had been some unknown element of surprise that had Seokjin just a few steps ahead of Dickson and a few steps behind the rest of you. Still, he was far ahead of Dickson, whose temper seemed to be strained.
“What about you ___, any thoughts?” He asked you this as if there was any evidence for his disbelief. And he was right of course, to be disbelieving, but the derogation of his voice did render his correct assumptions as nothing short of foolish dictatorship. Again, there was space. It was the five of you, a dividing space, and then Dickson.
Space is meant to be empty, or it is not space at all, and Dickson’s unwelcomed invasion into it had made him the target of five unrelenting students.
“My English teacher says writing multiple drafts before turning in the final product is a clear-cut way to do well on essays.” Your eyes weren't level with his. They had been glancing back and forth from the desk to the unzipped fly of his pants that were now unfortunately a foot too close in your peripherals. Provided you had nothing to lose, maybe another one of your Saturdays, but even that seemed to be worth pointing the zip, or lack thereof, of his pants. “Sir, your fly is down.”
He hastily corrected this and his authority had been running too thin from the jabs sent his way, diluting any call to action he made into a watered down whine. It wasn't enough to spread over himself or each of you, making his second retreat taking place faster than the one before. On his way out, he tossed three out of four of the papers in the trash and kept one to inspect. There was no draft of an essay written on the paper, and for once he was right and it felt awful.
You would have felt bad, but no one could empathize with his fatal arrogance.
“You kids are a piece of work. I don't get paid enough for this shit. You better be done with these essays by the end or I swear.” And he didn’t finish whatever he was about to say before walking out of the library, hurried and belittled. Jimin was, of course, the first one to burst through the silence with giggles and the sound had doubled, tripled, and so on until all of you had been absorbed in a fit of laughter. Even Hoseok released a smirky chuckle, and felt attuned with you, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jimin.
For lack of skin, one could assume. Or maybe he genuinely liked the way he felt around you and those who were on this team that was too diverse to give a definite label.
“___, I can’t believe you actually said it. God, I was going to but I thought he would have cried.” Jimin pushed out this appraisal through gasping for air.
“I couldn’t help it. It was right in front of my face! I think I have to go wash my eyes out.” You were rubbing your temples to massage away the increasing disgust upon picturing it.
“If anything, I thought Seokjin would’ve been the one to do it.” Namjoon said, keeping busy with another illustration.
“Nah, ___ handled that perfectly.” Jimin managed to level his breath by now.
“I wonder if your bite is as big as your bark.” Hoseok said, just to get another one of those annoyed glares, which seemed to be the only way he knew how to get your attention now. His affluence of communicating, especially to you, has been sloping off to quite elementary levels. Still, he did what he could.
“You wanna find out?” Your voice insinuating you wouldn't falter to his bereavements. Your eyes looked back to the smirk of satisfaction painted over his face, boiling a bit of frustration in your chest. Mostly, frustration with yourself for finding your eyes trailing along the length of his admittedly handsome face. Frustrated that, no matter how insufferable he was, you were undeniably attracted to him which made you struggle to suppress your own smile.
“Guys, look.” Namjoon held up a stick figure sketch of Dickson. It wasn’t nearly eligible to be considered a sophisticated piece or technically accurate to Dickson’s appearance. Though the elementary style of it had a stronger sense of accuracy than any proper portrait of Dickson would have. The grimace of the stick-figured Dickson and the detailed pants that included a dropped fly upstaged whatever ornate cross-hatched or contoured lines that had been applied to the four of your drawings.
“You have a talent, you gotta give me some lessons sometime.” It felt like Jimin meant more of this. Perhaps he had been referring to what Namjoon had said before. As if he were realizing his range of friends left Jimin destitute in the terms of social circles and in some way, Namjoon had been entirely unique from anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t want to be another cart in a train of unexpanded minds due to a case of the status quo.
Namjoon was alluring, to put it simply. Outside of his long undisturbed comfort zone.
“Well, you haven’t seen my art skills. I like to call myself the Van Gogh of our high school.” Seokjin did nothing but embarrass himself, but it had a normalcy you and the rest had grown used to. Now it was not just expected of him but looked forward to. Things were changing before the eyes of the five different faces with five different stories. Changing, yet at the same time, feeling as if things had been returning.
“Yeah, all you have to do now is cut off your ear!” Namjoon said sarcastically.
More laughter, more good feelings poured into the library that once felt nothing more than a temporary, barren jail cell and a source of guilt and boredom. It was full now. Full of something much warmer than before.
You were looking at Hoseok, now with a little less hatred. Seeing him smiling, laughing even, had softened your hatred to something else. It was still painful, and just as hard to identify as that particular quality of his. Whatever blame you directed towards him hadn’t been as hampering as this new feeling you got when you looked at him. He felt your gaze, louder than the chime of a bell, and wondered if he had shed enough skin yet to look back at you. To be filled with fresh linen and lemon and all the pieces of safety latched onto the exchange of glances that were not of the seniors in high school, but the childhood friends that long ago shared one heart.
Sadly, he didn't look to you, not yet. Not when he felt unready and unaccustomed to the ripe, underlying skin covering him now. He couldn't be brave enough to risk disappointing you with how his gaze might not have measured up to how sorry he felt for being the loose cannon in your life.
You looked at the clock that read it was twenty-two minutes until the third hour of detention. Watching time tick by had proven to slow it nearly to a full stop, so you took to the sights displayed by the library window. The fog was still heavy, trading the perimeter of the parking lot with thick invisibility. Somehow, you had acclimated to the unseen sectors of what was within the fog. You couldn’t see through it, all you could truly see was fog, but that was not as pronounced as what you felt and what you knew. There was, without a doubt, something beyond the fog; that was what you knew. And what you felt was consoled in knowing there was surely something, anything beyond the fog, thus leading your eyes to Hoseok, again. You looked at him, right at his face, at his thin skin, and knew there was something beyond the fog.
“Stop leaning against the table, you’re gonna knock it down.” Namjoon had been referring to the tower of dusty books gone unread for a considerable amount of time for anyone, even the librarian, to notice they were missing.
What, you wondered, could be more captivating than the mysteries hidden between the fog? To Jimin, Namjoon, and Seokjin, the antics of stacking books was that and more. There were about ten, maybe thirteen books piling taller than Namjoon. Though it had the advantage of resting on the already raised table, it was still admittedly impressive since Namjoon was on the taller side. Jimin stood on the table with arms flattened and extended to steady his balance and to still his body from any shaking that could derail their handy work.
“Yeah, Jin, stop leaning.” What Hoseok said was clean of genuine concern, made clear from how he’d bumped the table with his knee causing the pile to teeter side to side, yet not enough to actually knock it down. The other three boys held their hands toward the books as if the gesture would have actually saved it from toppling over.
“___, come over and help us steady the books! Hurry!” Seokjin’s request had you rushing over try and balance the stack wobbling nearly to a complete collapse.
“Do you guys wanna do something actually fun?”
If not for the almost bewitching inflection of Hoseok’s question, you would have maintained focus on keeping these towering books from falling. Though, he spoke with an implication that he possessed something that would whisk you away from boredom and you were still, a bit less unapologetically, reeled tight around his finger. So, your attention was spent on Hoseok until there was no more. Same with the others. All four eyes tossing an unrestrained marvel in place of a verbal answer to his question. The vigilant silence was enough to have Hoseok’s hand digging in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a neatly rolled joint.
“No fucking way, we can’t do that in here… Right?” Although he wanted to sound doubtful, repulsed by the stick of weed between Hoseok's fingers, the question threaded along the end of Jimin’s doubt had a faint enthusiasm.
“Dickson’s stupid. We can just tell him it was a skunk.”
“I think we should really evaluate our actions before we do them.” By we, he really meant Hoseok. Seokjin tried to act in place of a sort of parental guidance, though he knew now how unlikely his influence would take effect.
“You’re right. Let’s see.” He paused and inspected the joint pinched between his fingers, “I’m bored, in fact, we’re all bored. I have weed, I want to get high, being high is fun. My evaluation says we should definitely get high.” Mocking the frail advice from Seokjin, Hoseok evaded the logic behind what the other boy had presented with yet another sarcastic remark. No one else argued, even those who were strongly opposed to drug usage, because there would clearly be no avail in discouraging Hoseok. Not to mention, deep down, all your inexperienced hearts had a slight curiosity for the coveted thing in Hoseok’s hand.
“That’s hardly an adequate evaluation, Hoseok.” Namjoon said, though he was already crawling with a rising inclination since a much less favorable boredom would have tormented him if he declined the offer. Jimin, Seokjin, and Namjoon drove through the traffic of worries and doubts and arrived at the destination where Hoseok was impatiently waiting.
“Fine, then I guess I’ll just enjoy this by myself then.”
“Wait! I’ll- um, I’ll go.” Jimin said and it was enough for Namjoon and Seokjin to admit defeat to their desires. Football season had not begun yet, neither the periodic drug tests, and there was a growing stress looming over them all that could be displaced by getting high.
The only one still fraught with a neurotic hesitation and clinging opposition that pushed back from the cohorts all in agreement was you. Marijuana had always deterred your fascination, even though you knew it was on the safer side of most drugs, and your virgin lungs feared it in the same way your stomach feared alcohol and your heart once feared Hoseok’s return in it. However, Hoseok had slithered his way back into your life and that wasn’t scary in the slightest. It was exciting and comforting, even, to be graced with his return and it made you question what else you had been missing out on.
“Alright. Dickson usually falls asleep around now because he gets tired after eating lunch. God, I hate that I know that. Anyway, this gives us the chance to sneak out to the second-floor bathrooms where there aren’t any fire detectors.”
The timing of his plan mapped out a perfect escape, however timing was never one to do you any favors.
As the others snuck past the ajar door to Dickson’s office, inside the vice principal was sure enough sound asleep, you remained in the library and watched the others, one by one, throw all caution to the wind. Hoseok’s stalled exit from the room was ushering you to a state of indecisive pacing. It was clear he was waiting for you, though Namjoon’s, Jimin’s, and Seokjin’s company would satisfy the quota for a proper smoking circle.
“You don’t have to come if you don't want to. The offer still stands either way.” He spoke tentatively and his eyes were habitually resting on anything, your hands, your chin, your lips, the floor, and even the fogged window, but not your eyes. He could resist the magnetism of your eyes because he felt like he needed to, but surrendered to the way his feet carried him a few steps closer to you. Enough steps to work a fast beating into your heart.
“I’m not going to pressure you. I wouldn’t do that, you know?”
You knew he meant this genuinely. The only thing thus far that came out of his mouth without the stain of sarcasm. It was because of how genuine he sounded that made the rattle between your bones far more feverish than the shallow, meaningless jabs he’d made to and about you during today.
Why does it hurt when you talk softly? Why does what should feel like soft fleece burn like the friction of gravel against my skin?
You branded these questions in the eyes unseen by Hoseok. It aches to know that you hated him all this time, and you just now realized his soft spoken voice had been reigned by you. Softly, like the inner child begging to be liberated from Hoseok’s protective skin. Softly, like when he said he wouldn’t do that to you, it came from a place in his heart ten years in the making and reserved wholly by you.
“I just…” His steps hushed you. The proximity of his body to yours had placed you in the eye of the hurricane, where it was quiet and calm and even softer than his voice. He radiated an energy that reminded you of something strong that was tired of being strong and on the verge of withering away; like a tall, old oak tree. Mighty, beaten down from the weather, and readying to lay in its tomb.
You always were able to admit he was attractive. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. The delicious sharpness of his facial features made for quite a face to look at. He was damn near perfect. But when did he become so beautiful? How did his sharp features soften to become delicate and lovely? The duality of this man was flexible, ranging from rough edges to rounded, gentle surfaces.
You believed his approach was to lead his quiet, soft voice to your ears because one had to be close - very close - for another to hear such a gentle tone. But he wouldn’t have achieved such closeness if it weren’t for the fortitude of longing and the smell of fresh linen and lemon that emigrated from you. Nor the gentleness of his voice could have been procured if the other three were still here. When it was just you, there was no reason to be anything but honest and gentle and close. Resistance was now undone by being with you and the timing of it all. It was peeling away more of Hoseok’s skin down to the bone and he allowed you to do this. Finding a place, the library, with someone, you, filled the hollow chasm of his chest with an oasis one could only classify as safety.
I want you to stay here with me.
Wherever that thought surfaced from, whether it be the spirit of a younger you or the sentiment of the current you, it was too real to keep from choking back a few tears.
“___, I-” Before the words of an unbarred tongue expressed how he wanted to admit he missed you and lay out every reason for pushing you away in order to annul all the pain he caused both you and himself, Seokjin had peaked his head through the door quite similarly to the frantic way he previously exited it.
“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” His urgent whisper had melted the overwhelming feelings being exchanged through silent pauses and simultaneously reconstructed the wall that severed your friendship, or whatever you had with Hoseok.
“___, you’re not coming?” Seokjin sounded friendly in his disappointment. If it weren't for the fact that what he was referring to was smoking pot then you would have joined simply because his tone had flipped into a sweet, inviting plea.
“No, sorry. I think I’m gonna hang back. Someone’s gotta keep watch for Dickson.” Hoseok exhaled with relief that you didn’t come. He didn’t want you to feel pressured and at least he could accomplish doing that.
The skin retraced its steps back onto Hoseok. And when you looked out the window, for you didn’t want to watch Hoseok leave you again, the fog was impervious. The tepid steps of his departure sounded similar to that of a ticking clock. Each tap moved time forward and Hoseok away from you.
When you looked back to the emptiness of the library, you wished you could follow him. It was too difficult. Not the walking itself, and joining them had only been one staircase away, but the following aspect of it. To follow him, to chase the man that left you like he did years ago, like a decomposed afterthought, was difficult because you feared to be met with dry rejection. You’d rather not venture off into the fog, and stay unharmed in the clearings.
Hoseok should have, in the wise words of Seokjin, evaluated his actions before making any official commitments to them. His constant neglect of this crucial step had led him into quite disturbing situations, including this one.
It was a few minutes after the joint had been smoked to the stub of the filter. Hoseok tossed it in the toilet of the large stall they occupied. For the most part, the boys were silent and enjoying their highs. And Hoseok was silent as well, but his thoughts were under completely different circumstances. They were blaring around in his head with a sharp ringing.
The memory of you, his awareness of missing you, seeing you again, and finding that his ability to look into your eyes long expired had been a taxing precursor to getting high. It was a first to have his emotions heightened taller than a mountain because of his intoxication; most of the time it numbed his emotions and the world around him. Though, there is a first for everything and Hoseok was clamming up from all the guilt, loneliness, and longing ensued by the Indica making its way to his brain.
They were all talking by now, describing how they felt or if they were feeling any buzz at all. Namjoon was the first to be hit with a wave of high and he unceremoniously stood up to wash his hands because he insisted that he could ‘feel the germs crawling on his hands.’
Jimin and Seokjin were the next victims of the unspared joint. Jimin had been repeating the word “woah” until it was devoid of all meaning.
Hoseok slipped under the spell last, but his high wasn't fermenting in the same light-hearted ways as the other boys’ highs. His harnessed a colossal weight that was an ounce away from being too much, from sending him into a fight or flight reaction. The stressor could only be the pent-up emotions that were billowing from his chest so wildly that there was no chance to inhibit or ignore it. Hoseok was not as high as the others, but high enough to send his dignity into the unreachable air. Soon, he couldn't tell if the discomfort in his skin was because of his high or his new discernment for this stifling barrier.
The depth of this emotional hole was deeper than that of a dried well, and had left Hoseok to be somewhat of a benign lump to the conversation at hand.
“Guys, I think I’m peeing. I feel like I’m peeing. Am I peeing my pants right now?” Seokjin rose to a panicked stance, spinning and bending to check if there was any wetness seeping down the pant of his leg. Namjoon, who was still washing his hands, and Jimin had fallen into a debilitating laughter. Though even in a state of sobriety it would have perpetuated a hearty laugh, their elevated reactions were that of the high they were still riding, and based on Hoseok’s observations, wouldn’t be coming down from anytime soon.
“Holy shit. Dude, just pee! we are literally surrounded by toilets.” It was a difficult task, but Jimin managed to squeak this out between his giggles.
“I can't pee in front of you all! I get… I get pee shy.” They all noted, Seokjin was an exemplary companion to get high with.
If Hoseok weren't entrapped in his thoughts of you, of fresh linen and lemon that seemed to be far more pungent than the remnants of weed wafting in the bathroom air, he would have tallied Seokjin as one of his go to smoking partners. Nothing deemed lucrative to distract him from what really mattered to him:
Fresh linen and lemon and you, and his damn skin.
“You guys may make fun of me for my axe body spray but at least it’ll cover the weed smell.” Jimin gloated, hunchbacked and head lowered to check if the scent of weed clung to his clothes or hair.
“We’ve been in a closed room for like twenty minutes. Obviously, you’re not gonna smell the weed. ___’s probably gonna tell us that we smell like a walking dispensary.” Namjoon said with a chuckle.
“Now you smell like Axe body spray and weed.” Seokjin hadn’t stopped patting down the inseam on his pants to make sure nothing was inordinately wet while throwing in an additional jab.
“We should be heading back soon.” The faucet finally shut upon hearing Hoseok’s suggestion. “You three go ahead first, I’ll hang back so Dickson doesn’t catch me with you all. God knows he would be way angrier to see me walking around with you three.”
Namjoon dried his hands and nodded with red glazed eyes covered by partially deflated eyelids. Jimin stood up and yawned from the weed-induced drowse blanketing his own eyes and Seokjin’s eyes still scaled the expanse of his pant leg with hulking paranoia.
In a line, they left the bathroom to house no one but Hoseok, the pungency of weed, and his memories. In Hoseok’s eyes, they were blindsided by one thing and one thing only.
Ten years ago…
White faded to grey in the clouds hanging above your inattentive eyes. The sandbox with worn plastic digging tools and a red bucket was the only part of the world that mattered to you. Soon, everything else blurred into nothing. You liked the sandbox not for the majesty of castle building or the sandy canvas to carve the visions in your young, creative mind with the swipe of a finger, but because of its smallness and how there was no room for others to play in it if you were in it. That was undoubtedly a strange reason to enjoy a sandbox, especially since youth usually carried along with it a craving to meet the first friend you could find and stick with them through the trials and tribulations of elementary school. You were harder to please in the sphere of friendship, leaving you to take to the sandbox where there breached no worries of finding a companion.
Your finicky little heart made you a feeble target for young, boyish bullies. The pleasure of picking on the loner of the grade often satisfied little boys of their brutish desires. You’d always been a bit docile, and perhaps too much for your own good. There was no need to fight back and usually their torments were no more damaging than paper cuts that would heal in less than one or two days.
Today, however, you were proud of the sand replica of the Andes Mountains, which was quite accurate in your own opinion. Having it grinded down to nothing, to a footprint of a bully’s unforgiving torture was the last straw.
“What are you gonna do about it, loner?” One boy asked.
“Ha ha, good one!” The others cheered on his infantile belittlement.
You didn’t think words sanctioned a fitting reprimand for their actions which led you to throwing a handful of sand, aimed at their face. It wasn’t enough to do any physical damage, but it had been more than enough to elicit anger and fill the opened-mouthed laughs of the three other boys with the specks of dirt and other fine sediments. One boy cupped a clump of sand around a medium-sized rock and pelted your arm with it.
Hoseok, who had been sitting a few yards away, turned to see where the pained yelp originated. When his eyes laid on you and the way you had been rubbing a rock-shaped red mark on your left arm, he felt the muscles in his legs moving him before his brain told him to help you. Quite heroically, he leapt between the blockade of three boys and you, fists clenched and eyes narrowing to push the little roughness he had in his soft facial features against them.
“Leave. Go pick on someone else.” Hoseok warned with an edge that had two of the three boys tutting their heads down in shame.
“Oh yeah? What are you, ___’s boyfriend?”
“I’m the guy who’s gonna beat you up if you don’t leave.” It had been the conviction in his voice that held all the power. The voice of an angel to you, and to them, the voice that made picking on the defenseless loner not worth the trouble. They all retreated to kick around dirt at each other giving Hoseok the chance to turn around and check your arm’s injury.
“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you, and to your surprise, there was just enough room for him in this tiny sandbox.
“Yeah, it’s just a bruise. It’ll go away.”
“I’m sorry about those guys… I- I think they’re dumb jerks.” This little slight towards them was quite modest in comparison to how Hoseok spoke in his later years. It wasn’t intended to insult the bullies necessarily, but to show he was on your side. That you didn’t have to play in the sandbox alone anymore if he was lucky enough for your picky taste in friends to acquire a bias towards him
“Yeah, major jerks. They ruined my Andes Mountains.” You were shoving around some sand to piece together the broken sculpture.
“Why the Andes Mountains?”
“I don’t know. They’re cool! They’re super tall, have you seen them?” In some way, it wasn’t the mountains that were feeding your excitement and the discussion, though short, was much longer than anything you experienced before Hoseok. Not only did you ward off the few people that stumbled into your sandbox, but many kids began avoiding you altogether.
“No, but I’ve seen pictures of other mountains.”
“I’ve seen them! They’re big and rocky and they go alllllll the way up to the sky!” Your arms shot up to mimic the mammoth Andes mountains.
“I’ve never seen a mountain like that but I’ve seen a volcano.”
“Woah! Where?”
“It was on some beach. I don’t really remember.”
“You’ve been to the beach? I’ve always wanted to go! The beach is like one giant sandbox.” Hoseok chuckled at your fascination. If he could travel back in time, he would have befriended you long ago so you wouldn’t have to wish to go to the beach. You would have already been there - with him.
“It’s so fun! I found a jellyfish on the shore and threw it back into the ocean and it didn’t even sting me!” Now you had been laughing at his whimsical personality.
“You’re weird… I like you.”
“Could I- Could I help you?” Hoseok asked this, already preparing himself to an untimely demise of his efforts to befriend you.
You paused. Your empty arena of friends had gained a candidate well-suited for your liking. Even as a child, you knew the trope of ‘boys who bully you only do so because they have a crush on you’ was just a way to excuse the brazen attitudes of entitled little boys. Hoseok wasn’t like any of those boys. He was kind, he spoke gently when he asked to play with you. He fit into the sandbox with you and you didn’t mind the company.
The answer was clear.
“Yeah sure. Grab a shovel!” You didn’t bother looking at him, though his eyes were immovable from you.
“If you wet the sand it sticks together better.” He said, attempting to prove himself an asset to your sand mountain construction.
“I never thought about that. Thank you.” This piece of advice was the first of many gifts this boy would give to you.
One could assume the rapid advancement of your affection towards him could be due to how easy it was for younger children to build attachments with one another. However, that could not single-handedly explain the way you already felt close to him and how when he wasn’t in the sandbox with you, the vast space was not comforting as it once was. Not in the slightest. It could not explain how you and him never fought over petty things such as sharing the red bucket or whose sandcastle was better. He, without fail, insisted yours was always best. How your fondness of him only grew whenever he handled you in a much more tender way than he handled the bullies, no longer coming around to throw rocks and mean words at you.
“Wanna have a playdate?” You proposed in an uncharacteristic lapse of valor.
“Um…” The hesitance wasn't because he was opposed in the slightest to this offer, but the little details of his life that often got in the way of building normal relationships, “Yeah.”
“Yay! I just have to ask my mommy first. She will probably want to meet your parents.” You said while molding the sand into a pointed mound.
“I don’t…” He stilled his fingers against the dampened sand, hoping it would calm the fast pace of his heart. “I don’t have parents. I’m a foster kid.”
You didn’t give an immediate response, instead turning your attention over to the boy who was unable to move from mortification. It confused you that he felt ashamed of this, your young, well-intentioned mind unaware of the negative implications and stigmas that surrounded being in the foster system. You simply smiled.
“Well, that's ok! Mommy will just be happy I’m finally having a playdate.” You said, shearing away the depth to this aspect of Hoseok. He was surprised, and also comforted in the fact that him being a foster child was no bigger of a deal than the color of his hair or the size of his shoes. As if this trait of his was something normal. He felt normal with you, and his inexperienced heart couldn’t decorate the thankfulness he felt with the right words.
“I’m Hoseok, by the way.”
“I’m ___.”
And the rest was history.
With him, the world didn’t matter. The end of recess didn’t stalk your mind. The threat of mean boys had become unthreatening. The lonesome life that you were comfortable with now felt like pins and needles against your body. The idea of friendship that once felt like pins and needles was comfortable, with Hoseok. To think, you had been fooling yourself into believing you were okay with being lonely and that you would have never come to terms with the emotional poverty that being alone subjected you to if it weren’t for him. Because with him, you believed the byword adults would regularly preach ‘sharing is caring’. You nursed a considerable affection towards Hoseok to care for him and had now realized you had far too much space in your sandbox to not share it with him.
“Thank you for being my friend.” You said, in the wake of all the goodness of friendship he had introduced you to.
In sixth grade you weren’t worried about a new school or leeching onto a clique. The burden of belonging didn’t barge in on your life like it had most of your peers. You had the privilege of being best friends with Hoseok. He told you on the day of your fifth-grade promotion that middle school wasn’t so scary, not when he had you. There was nothing for you to do but trust in him, not because you had to, but because you wanted to and because you knew he would always be honest with you.
It was you, Hoseok, and the little sandbox against the world… until it was not.
Unlike the end of elementary school, the end of middle school was met with no such promises of the kindling allegiance Hoseok used to assure you of. You assumed it was because his consistency in your life now went without being said. However, you learned this was a terribly incorrect assessment.
The start of high school was when everything changed. The seasons cycled through right before your eyes, and you weren’t ready for the new semester of school that Autumn brought. What you had been even more unready for was the gradual disappearance of Hoseok from your life. When he’d been drawn to certain promiscuities and stopped coming over for the weekly visits and soon forgot the comfort of fresh linen and lemon. You wanted to ask him, or rather, plead that he wouldn’t drift. The only certainty in your life was becoming more and more unseen and, in his place, an evasive fog to renounce him from your vision altogether. There was nothing for you to do but let him go, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.
Because he stopped looking at you and forced a cold divide between you two without negotiation.
Eventually, you made friends though not nearly of the same caliber as Hoseok. Most of your connections felt shallow and a bit forced and you knew there was no way in hell you would have let them into the sandbox with you if you were a kid again. Not in the way you let Hoseok; you hated living with that knowledge.
It was horribly painful the way he tore the plant of his body from your life. He’d buried the seeds and began to fertilize your world with companionship and intimacy. He grew with every step that you grew, however the bud of your friendship hadn’t the chance to blossom before he ripped out every root tangled within the inner workings of your life.
He had abandoned you in the dark night of doubt and confusion and aloneness. Half of your broken heart was somewhat glad he didn’t tell you why he had done this because it would have been devastating to find out he simply didn’t like being around you anymore. That horrific thought that the need for you to be in his life grown to a rusted nonessential was second to aloneness in being the worst thing he left you with. The other half of your heart was dedicated to wishing he would walk into your life again.
Why would he do that to you?
And more importantly, how could he do that to you? He knew there were no two things more fitting for each other than the two of you. So how could he dispose of the one thing that meant everything to you and leave it to rot in the soil with the rest of the broken, decaying promises?
There was a reason, and he forbade himself from telling you. He was so ashamed of his bones that he decided to cover every fond memory and every scar that turned his skeleton textured with permanent divots with endless layers of skin.
The half of your heart that longed for him eventually merged with the other half that felt nothing but complete abandonment. The sandbox was of single occupancy once again. You hated him for that.
Present day
Hoseok’s eyes were full. Not of bloodshot vessels along the whites of the eye and not of worry that Dickson would catch them. They were full, almost outweighing the irises, with none other than melancholy and tears. Real, wet tears. He could blink away the tears and wipe them on the sleeve of his flannel, but he couldn't disengage the melancholy, the utter sadness from infecting his eyes.
Looking up at the tiled walls of the bathroom, there waxed a bitter disgust in his chest for going so long, far too many years, looking at anything that wasn't your eyes. His labored efforts to keep away from you, not even allowing himself the option to explain the purge of you from his life, was bitter. Disgusting. It filled him with more guilty tears.
He wasn’t crying for himself or the pressing torture he had endured for the majority of his life. He was crying for you. He was crying for the fact that he couldn’t tell you all the reasons he’d left you and tarnished the purity of your smooth skin. He was crying for hurting you, he was not oblivious to it.
Yes, he was crying. The portrait held a valid hypothesis of the future. An older Hoseok, crying for fear of losing you. For you.
He waited a few minutes longer, giving enough time to account for any sudden stops or distractions that might have been littered in the path of the other’s transfer back to the library. Hoseok stood, checking the mirror that the tears were dried, and the melancholy was clouded with a redeeming fog, and then made his way back to the library.
No one, not you, not even the thick skinned Hoseok could be immune to the commands of timing. It was unavoidable, the misfortune that timing would always sweep over the lives of you and Hoseok. Dickson was second to timing on being an unavoidable force of annoyance and persecution. Walking down the extensive, closed hallway gave Hoseok no possible divergent path to escape the hunt that Dickson seemed to be on.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here? I’m disappointed to say I’m not surprised to see you breaking the one rule I enforced.” The completely irrational and dictatorial rule that he had been referring to, of course, had Hoseok’s rejection of it written all over the way he strolled through the halls.
Any number of excuses would have cushioned the blow of Dickson’s repercussive actions about to be set in a meticulous line. He could have said he honestly needed to relieve himself or that he was feeling nauseous and needed some air and a quick lap around the halls. But he didn’t want to make excuses for himself.
Hoseok had been parading around this Saturday as if he had enough skin to protect him against the external forces of you, Dickson, even the other three boys. He was tired, reaching the apex of a tall cliff, climbing and climbing to what seemed like an abstracted end without the comfort of a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on during this tiresome journey. And now, he just wanted to let his body fall down the agglomeration of his own barricades.
“I was smoking weed in the bathroom.” His defeat from trying and his apathy towards Dickson’s belligerent blows left him on the bottom of the cliff. There was no use in standing, in climbing again. No use but to fall and wait for the day to end.
Dickson took this vulnerability to his advantage. He was all too quick and far too eager to sink his teeth into the thin skin on Hoseok. As he was drinking the juices of all the power he felt entitled to, his thirst grew morbid, thinking the only way to quench it was to swallow every last drop of dignity from Hoseok’s body.
“You, Hoseok. You act like you’re top dog. You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and what does that leave you with? You’re never going to be satisfied. You’re gonna end up empty and broken just like the family you never had.” This was beyond crossing the line. Dickson had stomped over it, pummeled it into mush, spit his dirty hatred in it, and perverted every aspect of Hoseok’s life that had once been latched safely behind the line. “No wonder you’re such a troublemaker. You’re desperate for any sort of attention or authority because you never had the father figure in your life to set you straight. And even if you did, even if the world gave you every privilege and shortcut to living a better life, you would still probably be empty, broken, and useless to everyone around you. What are you gonna do? You’re gonna graduate in a year and I can safely bet you have no plans. You’re going to end up a nobody. A loser. Just another unwanted orphan.”
The Hoseok four hours ago would kiss his knuckles against Dickson’s lip before he had the chance to finish grinding him to a pulp with those words. The Hoseok at twelve o’ clock, four hours older, was tired and swept in his anguish of losing you, or perhaps letting you go, or even worse, pushing you away. The tonnage of all these put his head into a haze and he couldn’t see Dickson, not that he wanted to. He couldn't see you, your eyes, even when he fell to his knees and begged the universe for that. He couldn’t smell fresh linen and lemon, only the faint memory of them which was quickly fading. The fog was surrounding, enclosing, imprisoning him but for what crime? For being the one who never seemed to be at the right place at the right times?
“Get your ass back to the library, Jung.” Dickson let this command roll off his tongue as if he’d been dubbed a place on a shiny pedestal. As if anyone in their right minds would have honored him for degrading the most fragile parts of Hoseok and shredding the sensitive skin of the man already fallen to the base of a cliff.
Wordless, visionless, Hoseok walked in a slump past Dickson to the library. Though, this book-filled prison felt safer than outside. Because it had you, it had the memory of your laughs and your eyes. It had the people who, though annoyed, still cared to give him more respect than he deserved.
And everyone, especially you, were increasingly worried about the amount of time it took Hoseok to get back. The others almost settled on the conclusion that he had been caught and put in some sort of solitary confinement by Dickson. Toes curling and hands fisted, you prayed that he would return. You prayed and it cleared all the hatred from you, still leaving a few stains of resentment for him. You resented him, but hated? Not in the slightest.
It was shocking, more so than your hatred of him, how in just four hours your animosity transformed into something tame and a little bit bruised and quite dramatically opposite of hatred. In hatred, one wants nothing to do with the other. In resentment, one seeks resolve with the other. You wanted him here and you wanted his eyes to make contact for longer than thirty seconds to make some sort of amends.
“I’m guessing what's worrying you right now isn’t your essay?” Namjoon tacked a concern in his question and through the way he had been staring at the empty seat behind you, there was no doubt he was talking about Hoseok.
“I don’t know why I care. He’s the one who decided to leave.” The low hanging grin was the best ‘I’m fine’ face you could pull. It was no use against someone like Namjoon who, within seconds, painted a part of you gone unvisited by anyone, including yourself. “He probably ditched. He can never commit to anything.”
“Ouch. Didn’t know you took detention so seriously.” You and him were well aware that these questions were void of their surface meaning. The connotations strung onto his every word had encoded his knowledge of what was really going on and he was about to get it out of you. “You and him were friends in middle school right? I think I remember. You guys would always eat lunch together.”
You were about to correct him and tell him you’d actually been friends since the first grade, but you decided against it. What were you trying to prove by saying that, anyway?
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”
“No, it's nothing you have to be sorry about. It’s probably nothing he has to be sorry about either. It's just me setting my expectations too high and disappointing myself.” You paused to stilt the quiver in your voice about to crack through your words. No one had ever asked about what happened with you and Hoseok. No one had ever cared enough to even wonder. This was a first for you.
“I don’t see it that way. I think he’s lonelier than he lets on.” Namjoon wasn’t sure of what he was trying to prove, but he certainly harnessed more emotional intelligence than you had assumed.
You suddenly felt guilty for doing the lazy thing of resigning him to a label, a slightly dehumanizing one at that, without even having one full conversation with him.
“Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don't know. I’m not sure why I said that, but I just felt like I needed to say sorry. You’re a good guy, Namjoon.” The grin bubbling from your lips was not a front this time. You were genuinely, profoundly touched by the way he’d shown you compassion about the Hoseok situation like no other did.
“Thanks, I guess.” He chuckled at the randomness of it, but knew you meant well and that you fully knew why you were apologetic. Feeling seen past the stigma pinned on his back, he knew you only meant well.
Right when you were about to give up and mark this as another self-designed hope that failed to be upheld, timing came to your aid.
For once, it did and it brought Hoseok with it.
“I just got chewed out by Dickhead.”
Despite the sting, the way he rubbed against the raw wound left by Dickson, it felt better than admitting it hurt him so. To make light of his deepest cuts and sprinkle a bit of his own salt in the wound, well, that was what Hoseok specialized in.
Seokjin, still riding on the waves of his high, walked over to Hoseok and wrapped him in a hug as if he had been gone for days. Hoseok stood still, he didn’t return the hug, nor did he shove Seokjin off of him. It wasn’t because he fancied a hug from this strange boy, but more so he felt too awkward to move or even react.
“Dude, we thought you died. We thought he killed you.” Eventually, Hoseok gathered the resolve to lightly nudge Seokjin from his personal space.
“Well, I’m alive so you can stop hugging me.”
“Hoseok, what happened? Did he get you in trouble?” You sounded far more concerned than the rest. You really wanted to know if he was okay, but you found that it filtered through your throat with an overly mild expression of that. Still, he caught this, along with every other subtlety in your voice, and wanted more than anything to tell you the truth.
No, he thought, He did something far worse. I would have rather taken a lifetime of detentions than to have been forced to witness the sickeningly honest criticisms Dickson threw into my already melancholy, tearful eyes. How he left that interaction unscathed and I was drenched in the pain of facing my truth.
But the words didn't come out. He didn’t feel like anyone would care about what he said anyway, and he didn’t feel like dragging you into more of his issues.
“He just got all worked up about his no leaving the room policy. The usual ‘how dare you go against me’ sort of speech. I honestly didn’t really pay attention.” His eyes trailed to the floor.
“What a dick. Sorry, man.” Jimin said while yawning, unrecovered from the Indica induced drowsiness.
“Yeah sorry, but I’m sure you got in a few good comebacks, right?” Namjoon asked.
“Yeah, for sure.” Hoseok would have otherwise been boasting about the way he fired back against Dickson. You were expecting that, and when it failed to come you knew something was wrong.
Namjoon had been drawing a new picture while he asked this. Absent-mindedly enough to not notice Hoseok’s shaken behavior. The sketch was of the five of you, sitting in a circle. It was laid back, with a touch of delight that shed the new bond forming between you all into a visible light. No one in that room would have guessed this Saturday to turn out the way it did, however none of you really cared for the alternative outcomes. You were all just glad you were living through this one.
The one that was encapsulated by the painting, the erasure of circumstantial union by a wave of perfectly crafted comradery. This wasn’t some deep insight of Namjoon’s, not like the ones in the individual portraits he drew. This was not of blind guesses or improbable hopes. This was clear to him, to you, to everyone.
There were no such distractions to clamor your notice of his timid mannerisms. The way he walked a bit too quietly to his desk as if someone had stripped him down to nudeness for all eyes to witness. And just like before, when he first walked into the library, he found his seat without a single glance in your direction. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel frustrated with him. Not when his worries were more real and devastating than his portrait.
This time it was different on two accounts. One, your ambition for him to look to you was not so you could relish in the guilt tripping stare he would be met with. The reasons you wanted him to look to you now was because you wanted him to know he was seen and was anything but alone. Whatever Dickson said or did was not a burden he had to shoulder on his own. And two, he didn’t sit behind you, didn’t try to avoid the unavoidable. He sat right next to you, in the scant space of your table, and there was enough room for him; even in the smallest spaces, there would always be enough room for him anywhere you were.
The scenery of him was bringing it all back. The sandbox, the mountains of sand, the young savior with the heart of gold. The love of having him by your side and the pain of his gutting absence. The roots of him were sliding back between your veins, once again seeking habitat for the bloom of friendship, or something more.
Look at me, you wanted to say. I’m finally able to see you again. Can you see me? We’re all here, Hoseok. Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and me. We’re all here, waiting for your eyes. Waiting to see the bones beneath your skin.
“Hobi, are you okay?” This time you made sure your whisper only touched Hoseok’s ears.
“I don’t know. I don't know anymore.” He couldn’t see you and he had no idea you had been waiting for him, in the fog, all this time.
One week ago
The text read that the study group you had been invited to join, courtesy of your friend Lisa, had a study session on the second-floor study room. It wasn’t to hang out, just to study, and you wished it would be more than that. At least a part of you did. The other part of you, the one still hung up on something that happened long ago and the same part of you that liked to play in the sandbox alone, didn’t care that most of your friendly interactions had been surface level.
One day, you’d meet with a few friends for coffee, or another you’d meet up with a group to study, and the more you hung out with people, the less personal friendship began to feel.
Friendship without Hoseok began to feel like a business exchange, or a mechanical interaction that had become overproduced and of less quality. Like pulling the same lever repeatedly, until it became a boring chore. Not to say you didn’t appreciate it. Though shallow, trite, and forced, it was more than Hoseok ever gave you these days.
But the text made you feel lonely, like an add on or an afterthought. Simply someone to fill an extra seat at the table. You wanted to feel like you weren’t just going through life without connecting, but connections were placed at such a high standard, thanks to Hoseok, that they were hard to come by.
Your teacher passed you through the halls, you tried to avoid eye contact but that made it even more obvious you didn’t want to talk to her. You both exchanged a cordial greeting and flung a few thoughtless comments about the weather into the mix to prevent any awkwardness. It was raining, you said. The rain looked like it was going to clear up, but still looks foggy out there, your teacher responded. She walked to her office and you returned to reality.
Your reality. Alone.
You stared at the bulletin board and the dozens of neon colored flyers for new clubs and campus organizations. Band? You were hardly the musician. Physics? Barely passing Chemistry answered that quickly enough. Chess? You’d rather be lonely. Maybe it was pathetic, but you wondered why there wasn’t a club for finding people. No underlying activity, no common hobby shared amongst the group, just a club to help a few lonely souls feel a little less lonely. For people who had a hard time meeting friends and an even harder time keeping them. Where was that club?
You walked past the school’s cafe, not needing the caffeine to wind yourself up over the impeding awareness of how alone you felt today. Monday. The day of reckoning it seemed. When you felt alone, as you did today, your thoughts could only gather memories of Hoseok to cheer you up. To remember that once you weren’t so alone, it definitely felt better than remembering you were alone.
You and Hoseok had been diametrically opposed ever since the gradual end of your friendship. He’d become somewhat of a rebel and you stayed humbled and quiet. The once parallel lines of your souls running along the span of seven years together had diverged, his line east and yours, west, by the time you hit the eighth year.
Today, all alone, you decided to start walking east. Not that you were looking for Hoseok necessarily, you were simply hoping to find something, or someone. It was that decision, along with the various others, that had you walking east and trying to get home before the rain fell again. You could have been surrounded by a group of classmates by now, who were half discussing the contents of the next Statistics exam and half meandering about what they were going to do this weekend, but that wouldn’t change the fact that you felt alone.
Just like the one who played in the sandbox, you’d rather be alone while feeling alone. Though solitary walks in the rain meant you weren’t of any access to distractions. You began to wonder, which was never a good thing in your case, why you felt alone? There must be something wrong with you. Everyone else seemed to get along with the idea of friendship no matter the depth of them. You had concluded maybe ‘sociable’ wasn’t programmed in your DNA because sometimes you found yourself absolutely hating the idea. But that couldn’t be true because there was a part of your life that you spent loving the idea. Not just the idea, but the real deal as well. What could it be then? What was the reason you walked alone this Monday afternoon?
There he was. The moment you saw him you knew he was the reason.
“Hoseok.” You hadn’t felt those syllables in that order fall from your lips for quite some time, only hearing it in your head made him seem nearly unreal. But he was real, so was his name.
He had a cigarette stuck between his lips, then soon his fingers, leaning on the seat of his jet-black motorcycle. You were walking closer to him, slowly, like the way one would approach a wild animal so not to scare them off. Your steps drew you back to first grade again, and proximity wise, you were just as close to him as you were in the sand box. However, your hearts hadn’t even been in the same country.
“Do you need something?” The worst part about what he said was the fact that he didn’t mention your name. As if your name hadn’t crossed his mind in four years unlike how his was practically branded between the wrinkles of your brain. As if, to him, losing you was nothing more than a check off of some to-do list, a chore, a burden he was just trying to get over with. So, it was absolutely pathetic what you thought immediately in response to what he asked.
I need you.
“You smoke?”
“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” Your eyes rolled to this, feeling a shockwave disassembling the Hoseok you remembered in your head. He was entirely new, not the boy who liked to go to the beach and played with sand, and you had a hard time recognizing him with this new skin he wore and the fog that, as your teacher guessed, was thickly lurking through the air.
“How are you?” You thought this was a dumb question because you knew he would answer with some short winded, meaningless ‘good’ or ‘fine’ or maybe he wouldn’t even say anything at all, leading to a fateful dead-end to this dragged out conversation. It was enough to make you equally eager and exhausted. If you could call what you felt for him with words, it would be hate. Probably.
His face looked paler than it had before, and his hands looked like it would feel like ice if you touched them. You used to touch them all the time, and they were warm and looked just as warm as they felt. If you touched them now, would they be as cold as his voice? Would he even let you?
“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He flicked the butt of the cigarette to shave a few ashes off the end of the stick. You just shook your head at how he didn’t hide the way he dodged your questions with insincerity.
“Sorry, jeez... How the tables have turned.”
“What?”
“Oh just that,” You paused to wonder if him asking what you meant was some subtle indication he wanted to continue talking to you but you settled your bets on that being wishful thinking. Besides, you hated him so why should you care? “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”
“I distinctly remember saving your life.” To you, no matter how desperate it was, any sort of mild banter with him was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, treasured with the memories stored in your chest. This was certainly the case being that in almost four years, the little he said to you now was the most he’d probably ever say to you in the rest of your lifetime. You took what you could get, after all, beggars can’t be choosers.
“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” You laughed and took a subconscious step closer to him. Carefully, lightly as not to scare him away because Hoseok looked stiff and distant minded when he saw you move towards him.
The mumble was registered clearly by Hoseok from the way you watched his partial scowl transform into a barely intelligible smile. You saw it, despite how small it was, and you missed the way he looked when he smiled at you. You missed knowing why he smiled, since right now you had no idea what prompted him to curve his lips the slightest bit upwards. More than that, you missed being the reason he smiled. That was selfish, maybe, and far-fetched from the looks of the gaping distance he seemed to be as comfortable with as you were uncomfortable.
“Li-”
“You-”
“Oh, you go.” His and your eyes were both fixed on the cigarette twirling between his fingers. And though you haven’t talked to him in a while, you knew that the tapping and twirling of his fingers was one of his habits to soothe his nervousness.
Was he nervous?
You wanted to carve the part of your brain dedicated to overthinking, specifically when it came to Hoseok, out of your skull. You hated the fact that you overanalyzed his every movement down to the twitch of his ears more than the fact that you cared enough to do so in the first place, and you hated that more than the man himself.
“You shouldn’t put that stuff in your body.” From the way his eyes didn’t move from the cigarette, it felt like you could have said nothing at all. He brushed it aside as if he was never intending on listening to you in the first place.
No, you thought, not Hobi. He would care, I think. He has to care enough about himself to keep his body healthy. And for some reason, above all the other overthought thoughts, that one seemed to scare you the most. If he didn’t care about you anymore, and he didn’t care about himself, then did he care about anything at all?
“Mm.” His gruff response fit unfortunately well with his hand, the one with the cigarette, that was moving towards his mouth again as if it were some act of defiance against you.
Your hand moved to curl around his wrist, which began a new set of overthought thoughts about how rough his skin felt against your hand. Soon, you found your thumb grazing softly along the underside of his forearm. It was you double checking to make sure this was the same skin as the Hoseok you knew before, an accidental gesture born out of instinct rather than methodic planning, something that, if he asked, you wouldn’t be able to explain. For the time being, you did everything you could to investigate where his new nihilistic attitude had bloomed from.
Before the ten second mark of this abnormal, slightly familiar contact, you channeled every neuron in your body to signal your hand to let go of him. He seemed blind sighted enough for you to snag the cigarette out of his hands and into your own.
“Do you want a hole in your neck?”
“What are you doing?” He didn’t sound as angry as you expected him to be. Moreover, he looked worried which under sighted your awareness of the deft approach to reach for his cigarette back.
“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it’s me who’s saving your life.”
Before you could throw it on the ground and flatten out the flame with your shoe, you braced for the unforced mistake of looking into his eyes and seeing nothing. All that was sitting in the socket of his eyes was a lusterless fog. You wanted to see his eyes more than you wanted him to care, which was an odd transition being that his care had been the top priority ever since freshman year. Your hands were gloved by warm cotton, but you would have taken them off to hold his hand and make them warm with yours.
“Hey!” You thought that was just in your head. Maybe the voice of reason to advise you from holding his hand because that would be extremely weird to do to an estranged friend. But it wasn’t a voice of reason that stopped you, it was quite possibly the worst person to stumble upon this encounter. “No smoking on campus!”
You turned around and saw Dickson’s manic expression then immediately turned to the cigarette that was in your hand.
Shit.
“I can explain! It wasn’t-”
“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Dickson’s eyes trailed to the pack of cigarettes that the one in your hand was sourced from. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and reached into the pocket of his blazer to pull out that notorious pink pad of detention slips. With nothing more than a smug grin flashed like bright headlights against you and Hoseok, one that you would grow to hate more than anything, Dickson turned and strut away with long strides and an elevated self-esteem.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” He smirked. To you, it was a mockery and some sort of reprisal for taking his hand and his cigarette soon after.
“Fuck you.” You turned away to walk a petty five or so yards away from him before some gravitational force pulled your head to turn back to him. To see if he was watching, perhaps waiting for you to walk back over to him but sure enough he’d kicked his leg over the seat of his motorcycle and started the engine long before you walked halfway towards where you were left to do nothing but watch him leave. He became smaller and smaller, hazier and hazier, and then unforeseeable in the fog.
You watched him leave, and you were almost sure you hated him.
One week ago
[Hoseok’s POV]
It was enraging and inconvenient for the weather to fog up right as school let out. Hoseok had more trouble driving his motorcycle when there was too much clutter in the air that disoriented the view of the road. He rarely stayed on campus for longer than he needed to, but it looked like he needed to. On the brighter side of things, Hoseok didn’t have to return to his foster house that smelled of old, wet, rotting rags and sounded of strained but persistent screams of his foster parents.
Even sitting in the fog, sucking in the burn of nicotine, was better than going back there. Days similar to these, days intruding his week more often than not, he found himself stuck between a place he wanted nothing to do with and a place he could envision through a pixelated glare that brought him warmth, quiet tranquility, fresh linen, and lemon. The arms that would meet his body and wrap him snug against another body, then the excited face of yours that met with his equally excited face.
It was a shame he could only live out these delights through an array of distant artifacts far too old to expel the loneliness from his heart.
Monday was whirling him through a pool of memories he’d rather keep covered up; it was winter and there was no need to swim in such a pool unless he deemed the risk of freezing to death a tenable substitution for smoking cigarettes in the fog. But it was not a matter of whether he would willingly dive into the pool, rather it was whether or not he could keep himself from falling in or even being pushed in.
Hoseok hadn’t seen your face in nearly four years. Of course, he saw you around the campus, strolling the halls or sitting in the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen your face, however, the way he used to look at it before high school. When he was a child free to flagrantly admire what his heart fancied as beautiful, there was no remorse or guilt from the way his eyes brazenly printed the details of your face into his memory. The creases at the sides of your mouth, the ends of your eyes that were pushed closed by the force of your cheek, and the number of teeth visible when you would smile had been graphed out like a mathematical equation; he was of the few that could solve it between the interval of two seconds. He knew where the inner portion of your eyebrows began and how far down the tip of your nose rested on your face along with the lining of your hair scaling the top of your forehead better than he knew any geographical map studied in school.
Most importantly, he studied your eyes more meticulously than he had his own eyes. Not your arms, or hands, or even the support of your legs could carry as much as your eyes. Hoseok liked to look at them when you smiled because they held the softness of a blanket after a tiring day burdened by a snowstorm. He could see it so clearly, a vast cloth in your eyes made specifically to wrap around a body in need of warmth.
But when you were angry, they held the wildest fires that would burn down anything in their line of vision. No matter how difficult it was to look at your eyes when they were sad, he was familiar with the molting roses that made your tears look like wilting petals; it was unsurprising that even in sadness, you shed beauty from your eyes.
To him, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever gotten the chance to see.
He loved seeing your face, even if the only way he could do so now was through the partially disfigured memories of his younger self. He was sad to say he had no current frame of reference to jar in his mental gallery of you. There was no way he could look at you on the will of his own because he was afraid to unsheathe the distance and repression set to protect you from him
There was no way, because he would have probably fallen in love with you all over again.
He was about to leave, but a gust of wind blew him towards the decision to smoke one more cigarette before surrendering to the house that smelled and felt quite the opposite of one place he truly considered his home.
And then he saw you. Walking slowly, and you looked so frightened of him. In all fairness, there was no reason for you to look at him with anything other than repugnance and unease because he turned quite jagged over the years.
You, however, were a relic of the past. Like a highly revered piece of art in a museum of grandeur, with the flawlessly manicured, picturesque beauty that couldn’t be bothered with the touch of Hoseok’s calloused hands. He could only stare from behind the velvet roped boundary that kept his body from melting into the art of you.
“Hoseok.” Your voice doubled down on the apprehension that tensed your walk up to him. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, feeling it inappropriate to have such a foul thing in his mouth if he were to greet you.
You looked so beautiful. So different from the thinly spread memories of your face; your cheeks had grown into maturation but still maintained a soft innocence. When he looked in your eyes, he did not see roses or raging fires or warming blankets, in fact, he could barely recognize them let alone see what they were holding. It hurt more than the smoke battering his lungs.
Get your shit together. Get away from ___. He reminded himself in an incriminating manner.
“Do you need something?” How he had the ability to keep his mind wrapped around you but spewed words forcing you away was beyond any comprehension. Nonetheless, he did it, simultaneously scolding and applauding himself for not reverting to the version of him that would have greeted you with a soft hug or loving smile.
“You smoke?” The disappointment packed into your voice put him at an odd with himself.
Finding the frustration plowing through his chest, he processed these self-aggressions through a misdirection onto an unsuspecting victim. One he never thought deserving to be the target of his projected anger, but then again, it was the only way to hinder your warm hands from digging beneath his skin.
“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” He exhaled relief, along with the rest of the smoke inhabiting his lungs, that you had rolled your eyes. His charade was fooling you into annoyance, keeping you just out of his reach where you belonged.
“How are you?” Or maybe this act of his was not working as well as he thought, since you padded these questions down like you had nothing better to do. Hoseok began to feel worried, the brimming loneliness was about to unleash through the conversation you were, for some reason, trying to initiate.
If you were to go away, it would break me again. But, at least, it would keep my skin intact.
“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He freed his cigarette from the ashes bunching at the end, hoping you would mimic this riddance. Maybe you would see he had burnt your body to an ash, and sooner or later the entire cigarette would fall away to black dust. If you saw that, would you finally have the sense to leave him?
He couldn’t stand looking at your eyes. To behold such beauty, suspended from any chance to have your body against his was nothing less that torture to him because he was so very cold, and you looked like you harbored enough warmth in your fingertips alone to cure him of it.
“Sorry, jeez… How the tables have turned.”
Hoseok bit down against the side of his cheek hard enough to steal a bit of blood from his gums and to keep him from asking what your eyes were holding today, and if you would be so kind as to give him a piece of it to feed his empty, starving eyes.
So, he settled on:
“What?”
“Oh just that,” Hoseok panicked in the span of your brief pause. Could you notice he was asking for a bit of your eyes and warmth? He was fucking everything up as usual, he thought. “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”
The jig had not been up yet, thankfully.
“I distinctly remember saving your life.”
“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” When you stepped close to him, the film of fear once guarding your walk was scraped clean which led to more silent punishment for letting his selfish indulgences of your company get the best of him.
His muscles couldn’t resist the smile bubbling under the thick skin on his lips. Not even skin, or fog, could hide the smiles that never seemed to run short with you.
And it was the step, or how miserably trapped in the purgatory he felt, or how he smelled fresh linen and lemon exuding from your hair and clothes that pushed him into the pool of memories he’d been walking around, but avoiding submergence.
It was deathly freezing. Now, he was fully submerged in the fluid-filled vat of your memories, however. It wasn’t the bone chilling frigidity of the water that had him reaching his arm out and gasping for air, but the enticing warmth of your body that stood above him, as if you were waiting for him to reach to your aid, for you to fill his depraved lungs with linen and lemon tinted oxygen.
“Li-”
“You-”
“Oh, you go.” He believed it was better that you spoke.
“You shouldn't put that stuff in your body.”
The broken levers and switches and pulleys which made up the inner mechanisms of his body found your banal suggestions as the only surge of kindness his old machinery had felt for a while. He’d heard it before; the Health Education segments, the anti-smoking adverts, the doctor’s orations tunneling out of his ears as quickly as they entered. But your words were caught like traffic in his head, so much that it blocked all entry of a fiery retort to pass through his mouth.
“Mm.” He mumbled because you were right. He shouldn’t be smoking; he shouldn’t be doing a lot of things but some of his actions felt out of his control at this point of his life.
Unprepared could not describe the intense degree of shock Hoseok felt when your fingers wrapped around his wrist so attentively. He was reaching his arm out, waiting to be removed from the cold and isolated pool he’d fallen into (or perhaps pushed into by you), but he never expected his hand to be met. He predicted he would spend eternity reaching to no avail, left to drown in this chilling pond of memories that rendered him frozen in the world of the past. Instead, his body reunited with the dryness of the air.
Hoseok hoped you couldn't feel the embarrassingly quick speed of his pulse with your thumb that rested right against his artery.
“Do you want a hole in your neck?”
He would have responded with: Could it be any worse than freezing to death?
“What are you doing?” His expressionless visage, one labored with hiding his worry, had fallen away from his face.
The way the cigarette looked in your hands had him nearing a faint. To him, it felt like an accessory, like a bracelet or a belt, like it belonged in his hands. But when you held it, the small stick looked like it was going to leave permanent stains of corruption along your skin. It was absolutely abhorrent in your fingers. Any second, your entire body would be lurking with his repulsive residue and he thought it would kill him before it killed you.
“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it's me who’s saving your life.”
That was the tipping point for him. The surge of tender nostalgia. The last bid of persuasion he needed to grab your wrist instead and press his mouth against yours, warm and wet and gentle. And he would have done exactly that, he would have kissed you and offered his last breath to your lungs if not for the unexpected saving grace that arrived in the form of a bitter vice principal.
“Hey!” Dickson’s approach was followed with the inevitability of detention. Hoseok only knew this to be true because even when he wasn’t smoking on campus or doing something that would elicit a detention, Dickson always found a way of weaving in reason to prosecute Hoseok. “No smoking on campus!”
“I can explain! It wasn't-”
“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Hoseok was in his own world now, counting down the seconds until the pink slip of detention would be presented in front of him on a rusty silver platter. When Dickson walked away, he found it fitting to begin breathing once again.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” The mischief in his smirk bred the annoyance back into your chest, which was his goal of course. Before he got the chance to enact his sinful deed to close the space between your lips and his, he hopped on his motorcycle and wheeled himself to a safe distance.
Cold and lonely, but safe.
He had the rest of the week to figure out how in the hell he was going to spend an entire day with you without looking into your eyes and breaking through the already vulnerable skin.
12:00 - 2:00
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
About two minutes after Jimin’s head took a dive, landed against the solid wood of the table, and snapped back awake, he looked a bit confused and tried to reattach himself to reality.
“Does anyone know what time it is?”
“Twelve ten.” You and Namjoon answered in unison like you had been keeping track of every minute that passed since eight o’clock.
“Time isn’t real.” The still high and rosy cheeked Seokjin mumbled out through a cluster of thoughts bumping around the otherwise empty space in his brain.
“I’m going to punch you.” Hoseok said, feeling sensitive to irritation after the denigration he had just undergone courtesy of a washed-out vice principal.
“Hoseok.” Your tone was a punishing command that needn’t more than the one-worded sternness to make Hoseok huff lightly in adherence.
“It’s been,” Jimin paused to count with his fingers, “four hours already? It honestly hasn’t felt like it’s been that long.”
“Well, you know what they say.” Namjoon commented this with no further explanation as if Jimin had any actual clue to what the other boy was referring to.
“What? What do they say?” Jimin responded, expectant for the explanation.
“I know. Is it that time isn’t real?” You tried not to laugh at Seokjin’s re-utterance of his thoughts that were polished over with an intoxicated glaze, knowing your approbation to him would further aggravate Hoseok into actually punching Seokjin.
“How are you still that high, Jin?” Namjoon said through a soft chuckle.
“I don’t know it’s kind of freaking me out now. Am I gonna be high for the rest of my life?”
“No and no. It’s that time goes by faster when you’re having fun.”
“That’s rich.” Hoseok took it upon himself to point out the irony and wicked hypocrisy of the insinuation that Jimin was having, of all things, fun with the four of you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin had almost forgotten Hoseok seemed to get the most satisfaction out of picking at Jimin specifically.
Jimin wasn’t the easiest target since he was the furthest from a social pariah, Seokjin and Namjoon filled that slot, but he had both a namesake of being a star football player and a pyramidal structure of friends to lose from Hoseok’s unforgiving tongue. This made it much more satisfying to Hoseok.
“I just would have never guessed you would get off your high horse for a few hours to join the rest of us lowlifes. Consider me flattered.” This wasn’t the first or last sarcastic remark to whip tirelessly against Jimin however it was enough for Jimin to feel deserving of answers.
“Where do you keep getting this idea that I think of you guys as lowlifes?”
“Oh, you wanna know?” Hoseok said, finding the clutter of denial Jimin had congregated around himself both ignorant and audacious. Even Namjoon and Seokjin found it astounding how gullible Jimin was towards his own refusal to admit an all too terrible truth.
“Please, enlighten me.” In the simplest terms, Jimin was in over his head to take on such a challenge with the amount of overzealous egoism in his voice. It felt like an affront, the ignorance shrouding him, to the experiences of the minnows that had to walk the halls with their heads hung low in order to avoid an unsolicited and traumatizing attack from the sharks of your school.
As much as Jimin didn’t want to acknowledge it, he was a shark, and the rest of you were minnows.
“Why don’t you tell everyone why you got detention?”
Jimin stiffened to a stone-like manner. It was petrifying to even move, let alone speak on behalf of his actions that led him here. He didn’t have his posse of dim-witted friends to protect him, nor the freedom of avoidance being trapped in the library. There was, for once, nowhere for Jimin to turn to other than the four faces of those deserving of his explanation.
“Well?” Hoseok coaxed.
“Damn, was it that bad?” Seokjin was worried he placed too much hope on Jimin’s shoulders. He wanted to believe Jimin was one of the good ones, or better ones at least. That out of his friends, Jimin would be the one to do the right thing because it would have been nothing short of betrayal if he relinquished himself to the cowardice of the ‘follow the leader’ mindset plaguing Jimin’s group of friends.
Perhaps it was the razing hues of the cheap fluorescent lights in the library, but there was a strange brightness illuminating this room in particular. Out in the halls, it was darker and easier to miss the faces of passing students. So dark that when you first stepped into the library, your eyes felt a slight burn and was forced to readjust to seeing with clarity for once in quite a long time.
In the library, there was no way to miss their faces. Maybe if you closed your eyes it would have been easier and the burn of the lights infiltrating your retinas would be boiled down to a grazing sting but now wasn’t the time for closed eyes. The rarity of brightness and clarity was too good to return to the blindness of the halls and the fogged space of the world outside. It was safe to keep them open, just for now.
“Don’t tell me it was one of your dumb football friends who put you up to something.” You said as if you already knew this to be true.
“They’re not dumb.”
“What? Are you trying to defend them? Defend yourself?” Hoseok said and it was not caked in indifference or sarcasm. It was angry and driven by some demented sort of care for Jimin to take accountability for his actions; it was as if he knew Jimin was better than that but he wouldn’t admit this even with a gun to his head.
“No! It’s not that. It’s just…” Jimin had reached his breaking point. There was nothing left to hide. Not when the library was so damn bright that it singed his vision enough to well a few tears to collect at the base of his eyes. “They’re fucking cruel. I don’t think dumb people can be as cruel as them.”
Jimin’s eyes were spaced out to the floor as if he had seen a ghost, or many ghosts in the form of the untracked amount of students that were swept into a relentless attack by those Jimin dared to call his friends. Those who he stood by, even if it cut through every moral instinct in his body. The most shameful ghosts were the ones sitting before him, listening attentively.
And the most haunting ghost of all was none other than himself.
“Jimin, what did you do?” Namjoon, walking on eggshells or rather shards of glass, asked this of him apprehensively knowing how overwhelmingly displeased you all would be with his answer.
“I didn’t have a choice! I-” The tears once held at bay on the bed of Jimin’s eyes had now been pushed over and down his cheeks from the guilt crowding the space where they once rested. “You know my friend Connor right? Well, I don’t know if I can call him a friend. Not anymore at least.”
The four silent nods didn’t give him enough time to construct the strong foundation of courage he needed to build upon this. However, Jimin had exhausted the last of his courage. All there was left for him, for all of you, was to be vulnerable. To be welcoming of his pain seemed to be the only source of strength to say what was needed to be said. What, for once, he felt like he could openly admit to.
The library was bright. He began to feel seen because of it and the noiseless juncture gave him a chance to be heard.
“I, um, I made the mistake of leaving my phone out. God, I was so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I did that.” He took one deep breath to energize himself, “I, uh, I got a text from Kim Taehyung and,”
Jimin had been instilling frequent pauses between what he was saying. Talking, especially to those whose opinions held a measurable importance to him, was the most difficult thing he had to do. Jimin spent over ten hours in the beating sun, extrapolated his muscles of their ability to move with the intensive workouts he had to do for training, ran over seven kilometers nearly every other day, and shoved an integral piece of his heart to a place of hateful and regretful shame for his whole life. But this, the uncomplicated act of talking had twisted into an unsolvable maze with Jimin placed right at the center.
“Connor looked. He- he fucking looked through my texts.”
The mention of Kim Taehyung, the only uncloseted person in your grade, had given you all the information needed to know why Connor looking through Jimin’s texts was not just an invasion of privacy but an infestation to the immunity Jimin built against how he loved; who he loved. The boundaries had been set and had been wrongly trespassed over, and to someone like Connor, that didn’t register as a violent act of homophobia. Jimin didn’t have to explain the contents of the texts for you all to know that it was far beyond platonic.
Suddenly, everything made sense to Hoseok. Being that he was the only one who knew what happened, but not as much to know the reasons behind it had him feeling almost as guilty as Jimin.
“You don’t have to explain yourself. I didn't know all that.” Hoseok had given Jimin an opt out, a shortcut to escape from the maze Jimin was still wandering through, which was his way of apologizing and clarifying he would never cross that boundary, the boundary that Connor ravaged with a hateful heart.
Jimin turned it down. He turned down the shortcuts. This wasn’t a journey that would be accomplished by taking the easy way out. Sometimes, one must run right into the eye of the hurricane to be freed from the shackles of self-despair.
“No. I need to tell you guys. I don’t want you guys to think that...” Jimin pushed past the final wall, realizing the very mask meant to protect him was the thing that had been turning him into someone he couldn't recognize when he looked in the mirror. “I just… I want you guys to know.”
The low social status of the others in the room wasn’t why he felt like he could be honest. It wasn’t the fact that even if you all knew, it would have been diluted to an unverifiable and petty rumor because no one took what the delinquent, the loner, the nerd, and the freak said seriously. What motivated him, or more fittingly, what inspired him to be honest was your gift of listening, not just hearing to hear, but hearing to care and understand Jimin.
“I’m gay.” And he finally found the end of the maze. “I’ve never said it out loud before. It sounds weird coming out of my mouth.” What he expected was awkward silence, a few uncomfortable or disapproving grimaces, or a complete rejection of what he revealed himself to be. These expectations weren’t met, by the grace of God or more likely the grace of those who listened with care and understanding. And Jimin cried harder.
“I don’t think it sounds weird. I’m so happy you shared that with us.” You said in place of the expected rejection, and you smiled in the place of the expected turned back. “I’m proud of you for being so brave.”
“You are?”
“We all are.” Namjoon added to the support.
No longer did Jimin feel the need to rely on the fractured confinement of the closet, but on the open, warm support of the four others and the brightness of the library. When he gathered the reactions for the four of you, the soft expressions directed towards him, he knew he was in a safe place. Even Hoseok, without outwardly smiling, gave him more acceptance than any of Jimin’s football teammates would have given him.
“No disrespect but what does that have to do with why you got detention?” Seokjin’s bluntness corralled Jimin back on topic, even if it wasn’t the most empathetic way of going about it.
“Oh yeah. Well, Connor started saying all this shit about telling everyone if I didn’t um…” It felt like the words coming from his throat weren’t hot air from his lungs, but jagged rocks scraping the sides of his windpipe, “If I didn’t beat Taehyung up then he’d tell everyone and leak our conversations.”
“Would people finding out about you two be so bad?” Seokjin asked naively.
“You don’t understand. There weren’t just messages.” He had been fidgeting with the end of his shirt, engulfed by the regret of how he handled things. Though, his choices had made him a parcel between deciding on the lesser of two evils and this was never a fair advantage. “There- there were pictures too. He threatened to leak them and I… well, I thought I was protecting Taehyung from him, but I was being selfish. Weak. I was protecting myself.”
“Jimin, that’s not fair. Connor put you in such a fucked up position! God, how fucking dare he?” Your face was red with anger. Hoseok had been tracing the distress lines on your forehead and between your brows with reverence because it was too heartbreaking to look at the defeated expression tolling Jimin’s. “You know Connor also sent around my friend’s nudes after he was begging for them. He’s fucking vile.”
“There has to be something we can do to get him in trouble.” Namjoon had already been willing to risk having to voluntarily interact with Dickson to rat Connor out. However, Jimin objected strongly.
“No! Then word would get out. You don’t know half the shit my teammates say about gay people. There’s no way they would let me stay on the team. And my parents don’t have a clue. I have no idea how they’d react.” Jimin brought his forearm to wipe away the tears still spilling from his eyes. “I’m scared. I already lost the one person who I really cared about in this damn school because of that asshole. I can’t lose anything else.”
“Why would you want to be on a team with people who hate gay people? Or be on the same team as the guy who literally blackmailed you into beating up your boyfriend.” Jimin didn’t take too kindly to Seokjin’s unthoughtful assertion.
“You wouldn’t understand. I- I’ve built my life around football! I wouldn’t have any friends and my whole future is riding on my football career. God knows my grades aren’t enough to get me accepted into college let alone get a scholarship. You don’t understand the social pressure of not being a part of something.” Now, it was Jimin who made thoughtless assertions against Seokjin. “Someone like you just wouldn't understand.”
“Someone like me?”
“Do I have to say it?”
Internally, you pleaded with him not to say it. Namjoon already knew the hurtful assumptions Jimin had placed upon the four of you this whole time.
“Well, you're the one who brought it up.” Seokjin retorted.
“Say it, Jimin. Admit you think of yourself as better than us just because you're popular and on the football team.” Hoseok spat with a determined bite to his words.
“Fine! Someone like Seokjin is an outcast. It’s true, okay? It’s not my fault he doesn’t get the pressure that I’m under.” The admittance was torrid and vain but nonetheless true to Jimin’s prerogative.
“Are you kidding me? You don't think all of us don't understand the social pressures of feeling like we don't belong?” He was never one to argue or get upset about things. He often felt like he had no place in ever standing up from the many instances when he’d been pushed to the ground for his entire life.
Seokjin, and Namjoon too for that matter, have been casted as a sort of boot licker trapped in between the cogs of the social hierarchies in high school. Being at the very bottom, on the receiving end of the brute force from those who are lucky enough to be a part of something, hadn't been easy. They didn’t get the leverage to misstep or speak out, and their consequences had always been enforced with an expensive debt of hiding what was really on their minds.
“You don’t think I see and hear the way people talk about me? I’m a freak, a low life, a joke. No one wants to be friends with someone like me. And yeah, I guess I am the joke of the school! The inside joke that everyone is a part of except for me. I've never had the fear of not belonging because that was a given ever since I started high school. At least you have something to lose. I never had that and I have to pretend like I’m okay with it all! I have to pretend that everything people say about me or make fun of me doesn't affect me. In fact, I feel like I have to constantly make a fool of myself because that’s the only way anyone pays attention to me! That's pathetic! If I didn’t, if I just shut up or if I-” His voice cut off momentarily from the lump impeding on his throat, “If I were to just disappear… or… if I were to die no one would care. And I have to pretend to be okay with that. But I’m not- I- I just hate it.”
You didn’t have to look at his eyes to know he had also been crying. And he was right, everything he said. The way most people disregard him and when they do acknowledge Seokjin, it’s only to place hate or insults to titillate their sick amusement. It brought you to tears in the most gut-wrenching way, because part of you attuned to his loneliness. His feelings of unimportance, that if you were to fall off the face of the Earth one day, your tombstone would be just as undeclared and forgotten as your once beating hearts.
“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in my locker? Yeah, they’re probably empty threats just to piss me off or scare me but they still affect me. I- I start to believe maybe I should be dead. I just… I just want to be seen.”
In some way, Jimin felt decided for just like Seokjin did. Decided by external forces that he should be manly, straight, and nothing beyond what had been expected of him. Though the oppression of heteronormativity chained around his neck was vastly different that the shackles that kept Seokjin at an arm's length away from ever making a true friend, there was a communion within the unwelcomed and pervasive loneliness.
And that kind of loneliness drives someone to a deep and unyielding kind of depression. The damaging isolation from having no one to tell you they love you when you feel unloved ricocheted against your insides, and it begins to feel like a hunger but a million times worse.
You couldn’t feed it on your own. You just have to wait for someone else to want to feed it, to want to love and accept you. But no one could wield such compassion when they were too occupied with fitting in, until now.
“I don’t think you’re a freak or a joke. I’d never make fun of you, and I would notice. If you left, Jin, I would notice.” Namjoon said to give Seokjin shelter and company in feeling out of place. He felt it too and it was heavy, crushingly heavy.
“I think we’re all just pretending to be okay. Pretending that living and existing doesn't hurt and that every day doesn't leave a scar on our body in some way. Being alive when you are pretending is lonely because it isn’t you who’s living and existing. It’s the shell of you, and the real you has to watch from a distance. That distance is so lonely. And when you try to crawl back into that shell, and maybe become whole again, you just can’t. You’re stuck because you've been hurt too many times to feel safe in your own body. I’ve felt it, now I know Jimin and Seokjin feel it. Even ___ and Hoseok, I know you guys feel it too. I wish we could stop. I wish we didn’t have to pretend. If we could stay in this library, together, we wouldn’t have to. But the end of the day will come and we’ll all have to go back to pretending, won't we?”
A speechless agreement filled the air.
“I don’t. I don’t want to feel lonely anymore.” Seokjin said.
“Me neither, I don't want to go back to pretending. I want to be able to love who I want to love.” Jimin looked to Seokjin, scared and unsure of whether or not they could face the world again. Oddly enough, comfort surfed over fear and uncertainty because they were not alone anymore. To be in a state of apprehension with those who take time to understand one another lightened the load tenfold. If one can be lonely with other lonely people, then maybe they weren’t alone after all.
In this library, bright and giving, they certainly weren't alone.
There was nothing to say or refute. Hoseok had in fact been pretending, his skin just as fake as the leather jacket covering him. Though now, unlike when he saw his portrait, he felt the absence of his skin to be freeing. He felt uncomfortable in his skin; he wanted it off completely. Being strong, pretending to be unhurt led him to come crashing down as hard as he did when he faced you again. You and all the mistakes he’d made and Dickson’s hostile attack in the halls. Perhaps weakness is a form of healing.
Letting the guard down just enough to let the kindness of another’s heart in.
“Do you guys… to me, you guys are my friends.” Spoken with an intentional rephrase and delivered without an expectation that the four of you returned this projection of friendship, Seokjin felt less alone than he did in the dark of the hallways that, although physically narrow, were wide enough to have him walking through alone.
“You’re my friend.” You said this quickly, to not give any chance for silence to settle doubt. You were his friend, truly, more so than the friends you made to fill the Hoseok sized void in your life. “I don’t have a lot of friends either.”
“Me neither.” Namjoon said.
“I mean, I have a lot of friends, but I think it’s all bullshit. I think you guys are the only ones close to anything real.” Jimin said through a smile.
And though Hoseok had come to realize what it felt like to be seen, to have his bones exposed to the eyes of the understanding, there was still that adjustment period. Letting go of the habitual usage of rudeness and sarcasm as a defense mechanism against the rawness of being human with other people was not an easily dropped reflex.
“Wow, well this love fest was certainly something.”
How could he do that? How could he reduce the trauma and bravery piled between the five of you to another crass, insensitive comment?
“Oh, god. Can’t you just quit it already? Can’t you take anything seriously?” You were well beyond the brink of holding your tongue. Beyond the point of patience that was placating your owed explanation for Hoseok’s drastic change and unannounced desertion.
“No, that part of my brain died a long time ago. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess.”
“Oh, is that what your excuse is?”
The other boys sensed there was some unsaid history between the two of you which placed them as silent audience members, serving a watchful mediation to this long-awaited performance.
“What’s your deal? Calm down, it was just a joke.” His insensitivity came from a place that grew used to pushing you away and stonewalling the idea of emotionality, yet another defense mechanism brandished to become second nature to him. And with the attentive eyes of the other three, there was no chance of loosening the skin and veered away from showing his bones. Hoseok knew exactly what ‘your deal’ was but he didn’t have the slightest idea of how much his feigned indifference packed more dirt in your wounds.
Or at least, you hoped he didn’t. It would have made it far worse to know he was aware of the way he hurt you.
“What’s my deal? My deal is that you don’t care about anyone! You never cared about me and you made me believe that I could trust you. You’re just an asshole, when you get down to it. You have no heart.” You spat, feeling the heat rising just as quickly as your body which collected the strength to take a stand.
He too stood up, facing you and it overspent the little energy he had to look into your eyes as you said these harsh things, unhidden in the library’s brightness. Of course, you didn't believe anything you just said. You knew he cared, or at least he did once, and that he had a heart, no matter how emptied of love it felt in his chest. His heart was there, beating slowly as if waiting to stop completely.
You were speaking through the frustrations of trying to reach out to someone who held their guard up stronger and mightier than a brick wall and seemed to want nothing to do with you.
He didn’t know this. Hoseok was up to his neck in regret and guilt. He was tired, and his heart was weary from doing its job of maintaining his breath. A breath he didn’t feel worthy of harboring anymore. He had been tired for a while now and just wanted to be vulnerable, like the rest of you. However, no matter how many times he thought it over or talked himself into it, the skin just seemed to regenerate faster than it shed.
He wanted to take you in his arms, never let go, tell you where it hurt and hoped you would love him there in the same way you would when you were young, and when his heart didn’t fully understand the hefty price of being the unwanted orphan who dragged misery into the lives of everyone associated with him. He wanted the sandbox, the Andes mountains, Marley and Me, the first grade, the aromas of linen and lemon, and you all over again. But he knew, he never stopped wanting that.
“You don’t know that, ___! You don’t know anything so how dare you make claims like that about me when you don't know half the shit I’ve been through!” He was screaming, though not so much in the literal sense. The high pitch of his voice was him trying to talk over the secrets that he kept from you. It seemed like the only thing that would drown out the loneliness itching to be liberated was his hurtful words. It sent you into a rage
“Then tell me! Let me help you or be there for you! Stop running away. For once in your life stop running!”
“Why would I tell you of all people?” The true meaning behind this was unclear through his spiteful tone and sandpaper skin. The one person he wanted the best for, he wanted to protect, wasn’t the person to dump all his problems on. Not you. Not your kind eyes and soft, warm hands and skin. He couldn't drag you under the bus with him and make you solve the unsolvable. To put you through that, it would have been better to drive a dull sword right through your chest.
You wanted to slap him or shake him. Shake the secrets out of him and place him right under the bright lights of the library. You wanted to reach into his chest and pump the slowly dying organ with your own hand so he could keep on breathing.
“I hate you, Hobi. I fucking hate you.” You said this and you said his name. The name owned by your tongue that carried too much sentiment to mean anything of hatred. Both his name and your hatred flew through the thick fog surrounding Hoseok, but only one of those two met with his skin and melted it off his bones completely.
“I hate me too.”
He couldn’t let you, or anyone see him cry. So he ran, just like always. Hoseok walked out of the library, right into the dark halls, but it was him running again. Running far away from you just like he did over three years ago.
It seemed like he didn’t reveal nearly as much as Seokjin and Jimin had. Even Namjoon, with the few words he’d offered on his place in the grips of loneliness seemed to be loads more than Hoseok gave.
But to you, it was enough. To you, his silence and grim avoidance told you everything you needed to know about Hoseok.
Dry eyes, dignity, skin, the defensive masks once mounded over your faces were nowhere in sight of this library. Becoming emotionally undone and disarmed was nothing more than becoming honest with yourselves and others. It came just in time before those mighty walls broke down to leave you all sitting ducks to the much harsher grasps of your peers’ judgements
It felt like symbiosis. The mutual giving and receiving between those who had been pretending, but were worn out by the last few hours of detention. To give the skin that covers and protects and hides the things unwanted by most of society. The things often put to shame or denial or negligence and root loneliness deeper into one’s body. And to receive a mindful ear that cares and listens, empathetically, to the words locked away, as well as a place where these insecurities and inner torments can be put to rest through the form of words.
No longer were these secrets kept. There was no one to shun or misunderstand or commit the crime of breaking the bones of those who stand out to fit in the mold of what was considered acceptable or worthwhile.
Four out of five coats unworn, laying in the center of your circle, safe and understood.
The question remained, if and when the fifth one would be shed?
Namjoon broke the tense silence.
“Are you going to go after him?”
If it was your freshman year, you would have been racing out of those doors before Namjoon had to ask. The you of the past would have climbed over the Andes mountains, the you of elementary school would have swam across the vast oceans to drag him back into your life. The you of the past, the one that had only a sandbox and Hoseok, would have gotten to the door before he had and blocked any exit from this room.
But you were not in the past, and Hoseok was already gone. Namjoon had to ask whether or not you would go after him and that meant there was a chance you had given up, for good this time. There was a chance you wouldn’t go after him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
Five years ago
For the better part of a year, Hoseok tumbled through life without any cadence for feelings and emotions. He was an adolescent boy, after all, and each week brought a new challenge to his plate that left little room to focus on the chaos of his life and guidance of his heartbeat. This week, he set his sights on getting you to race him on your scooters down the steepest hill in your neighborhood.
Dusk was orange and warm, sending its hues along the streets and faces who were under it like an important message one must read with the utmost care. Hoseok liked this part of the day specifically because the end of the hour would take his tired body into your home to eat dinner with you and your mom. He saved that for later and for now, he and you were occupied with scraped knees and tired knuckles from gripping the handles of your scooters, and a hill rolling down so far it seemed like it would take a lifetime to reach the bottom of it.
“Come on! We’ve been practicing for hours! You can do it!” His scooter was edging to slip off the slope and down the hill in eagerness. Yours stationed a foot behind with your helmet strapped snug around your chin and a grip around the handles so tight, you left the divots of each finger on the rubber padding.
“What if we die?” You looked at the back of his head soon turned to become his face as he peeled away his determined glare to a soft reassurance. Wheeling back to align the front of his scooter with the front of yours, he was left to subside to the beatings of his heart, fed by the sun placing itself on the crest of your helmet and the luminescent rays drizzling like a serene waterfall down your face and body.
He never thought about beauty much, being that he was no older than thirteen years, but seeing you under the aging sun had put it at the forefront of his focus.
“If we die… then you’re mom’s gonna be mad. So, I won’t let that happen.”
“Hobi!” You swung your arm that braised the bone of his shoulder not without a laugh at his rather playful response to your worries.
“Trust me. We don’t die. And whoever gets to the bottom first wins.” Your laugh served as a catalyst that quickened the pace of his heart. Whatever it was trying to tell him in this moment, it was surely of sizable importance being that it sent waves of warmth through his cheeks and down to his legs. The challenge now hadn’t been the epic scootering down the hill but putting his heart aside long enough to last the rest of dusk.
“Wins what?” You asked with intrigue.
“I don’t know. A piggyback ride all the way home.” Tired legs and a heavy head convinced you this prize had been worth the risk of falling, akin to dying in your perspective. Your head turned to the hill, looming over the intersecting street at the base of it, notifying Hoseok that backing down was no longer an option.
“Alright. Ready, set, go!”
Opening your mouth didn’t come with the expected release of terrified screams but laughs of thrilled enjoyment. The wind was cut through by your body, now rocketing down the gradient that felt much less steep than it looked, and you commended Hoseok for convincing you to tackle this seemingly trifling challenge.
“This is so fun!” Your yelp was lost in the rapid descent, but Hoseok, a few feet ahead of you, had been in range of your acclaim.
It was then when the young adolescence in his brain was overtaken by the guidance of his heart. His own tired body became alive and light. When you said this, the joy in your voice made the decision for him to discreetly apply pressure to the metal brake of his scooter with his heel, to realize he couldn’t make you carry him home.
Not because it was tiring for you, but he wanted to see the look on your face when you won. He needed that smile and the warm blanket of your eyes that would heal his aching muscles and tired body. And it was your open-mouthed smile and celebratory hops, along with the showering glints of sunlight and the end of dusk that turned his loss into an incredible win. His covert efforts to draw this joy from you came from a place none other than pure love.
“I won! Hobi, I won!” Without a second to spare, you ran and mounted his back with legs wrapped tight around his torso and your arms snug, but not quite choking, his neck.
“Alright, fair is fair.” Though, it wasn't fair. Not in the slightest, and Hoseok made sure of that.
The feeling of your soft, jaded breath against his neck was energizing, and every so often you would give his body a tight squeeze when he was struggling to trudge back up the hill, as if to thank him. And you were because you knew he let you win. You squeezed him in your arms, keeping firm to the memory of him and this triumph gifted to you. Though, it was not as great of a gift as Hoseok was to your life.
“Thank you, Hobi.” Your soft whisper was followed by an even softer kiss on his cheek, damp from the sun and the hill and the piggy-back ride. Soft enough to communicate to him the gratitude in your heart, which translated and directly manifested into his lungs now fanned of all the burning once inflaming them; his face sporting quite a bashful smile too.
He was not tired, not when he was holding you because it felt more like you were holding him. Like you were always going to hold onto him.
The neatly lined houses had little to no variation. Individuality in this small, suburban town was like finding that needle in the haystack. To him, your house was that shiny little pin. Your house was a home, and he saw that through the partly uncurtained windows that gave him a view of the scene inside. Most of the time, you were already seated by the sill, waiting for him to arrive.
You and Hoseok had arrived at the base of your driveway, staring up at the small incline that looked like it was taller than the Andes Mountains themselves to Hoseok.
“You know how I said we won't die?” You turned to his lightly blushed cheeks upon hearing this to see he was smiling. “Yeah, well, I think I’m going to die.”
His pearly whites cemented with metal braces and strands of his unkept hair stuck in the sweat of his forehead were sightly. You began to laugh, looking at the goliath hill separating you and him from a home-cooked meal courtesy of your mom, then back at the odd, awkward boy who had yet to discover the wonders of deodorant and properly fitted clothing.
Hoseok wasn’t all too desirable in terms of the traditional realm of attractiveness. His arms were lanky, unable to place themselves naturally at his sides without looking uneven, and his posture did him no favors either. And you took in all five foot five of him, before he hit a spur of growth, and thought he was the loveliest little thirteen-year-old in your grade and in the whole world.
“Come on, you know my mom won’t allow that. I got you, Hobi.” You weaved your hand through his, pulling with all the force your muscles could exert to haul him up the driveway. You made it to the top and your hand didn’t let go of him. Your mind was trying to deny the twists and turns of your stomach and the fast pumping of your heart any credence.
When all else fails, you must listen to your heart.
Both you and Hoseok discovered in your very young, inexperienced lives that hills and driveways and scooters and all the other trivial barriers were no match to hearts.
It was in first grade that he knew he was going to be your best friend. It was by eighth grade he knew he loved you. So much he’d carry you with bruised knees and broken arms to the ends of the earth.
2:00 - 4:00
Hoseok’s memories of you became sort of a mosaic. The little pieces of you were, singularly, a bit insignificant in the time they were being experienced. Often overlooked, and taken for granted, he couldn’t realize the beauty they captured until he stepped back. With distance, he saw the full picture, the ethereal mosaic had brought him a far and lonely appreciation for the past.
All throughout the day, he didn’t want to look into your eyes like he did the day you convened with him in the parking lot where he was smoking. His fluency of your eyes had unraveled with time, leaving him feeling illiterate in the language of you and completely lost. When he felt lost, he wanted his heart to guide him again, but it would instruct him to return to you and replenish the deserted friendship. However, from what everyone told him, even Dickson, he wasn’t worth the effort.
You had been staring at the door opened and closed by Hoseok, waiting to be opened and closed by you. As if there were a part of you deciding on letting him go, you tapped your hand against the table synchronically with the seconds ticking by on the clock. The door had eroded the rest of the library away, along with the three sets of eyes staring earnestly at you.
“So, are you gonna go or what? We have like two hours left and God knows whether he actually stayed on campus or not.” Seokjin sliced the wordless atmosphere with heavy hopes you would make any indication of your next move.
“Seokjin, shut up! ___, don’t feel pressured to do anything.” This overlaid Jimin’s pounding urge to hoist you up himself and throw you into the wiles of the halls.
“What? ___ clearly wants to find him.”
“Well, he clearly doesn’t want to be found. He’s such a child, honestly, I shouldn’t waste my time.” You knew you only said this to try and talk yourself out of the decision which had been established by your beating heart the minute Hoseok walked out. The obvious desire to follow him had been expressed through the discomfort you felt for tearing your eyes away from the door; you were guilty, above all else.
Each tap of your hand could have been a prelude to your inevitable pursuit of the man who, in fact, did want to be found. It was effortful but insincere to attempt leveling the scale between the two options of chasing or letting go; the opportunity of Hoseok was a weightier one than the life without him, executed through repetitive, passionless motions. You were bored, repulsed by the way you had lived out each moment of your life just to wait for the next and the next until your life was over.
“Come on, you know that’s not true.” Namjoon added, “We’ll cover for you if Dickson comes back. I really think you should go.”
“Yes, please. Go.” Seokjin placed his desires proudly once again.
“In all honesty, I think you should go t-”
“Enough! I’ve already gone down that path. All I ever got from it was unheard voicemails and ignored texts.” You were still looking at the door, and still trying to talk yourself out of it - and still feeling guilty.
“Love is hard, I get it. But-” You didn’t let Namjoon finish his well-thought out life lesson that would have coerced you into going after him.
“What? I don’t love him.”
“Ooo, ___ and Hoseok? Fire and ice. Rain and sun. Winter and Sum-”
“Seokjin, don’t you have an essay to write?” You cut his words down as well, finding none of their entertainment in your inner psyche appropriate. They were placing themselves in your mind, but to them it wasn’t so much of a locked door than a door wide open with its secrets spilling out faster than the tick of the clock and the tap of your hand.
“Well, he clearly loves you. I don’t know him that well, but I can assure you he doesn’t get like that around just anyone.” Whatever ‘like that’ meant, you were annoyed that you knew exactly what Namjoon was implying. It didn’t stop you from perpetual, stubborn denial.
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Oh… Are you being- Is ___…? Are- You’re stupid.” Seokjin’s words crumbled to near incoherency due to his complete astonishment for your lack of judgment. Perhaps if your belief that he didn’t love you was a genuine judgment, then his assessment would have been correct; you were being stupid.
“Well, fuck you too!”
“What he means to say,” Namjoon’s pause was to shoot Seokjin a disapproving glance, “is that it's really obvious you guys are into each other. I don’t know your history but there are definitely some unresolved feelings.”
“If you’re not gonna talk things out with him, at least tell him to come back so Dickson doesn’t get him into even more trouble.” Jimin’s addition only vegetated your inclination to find him again.
It made sense. It was rational, reasonable, and therefore possible. You couldn’t let him get in trouble. You were just doing him that small favor. In your head, it caked over the real reason; to know he still cared or to see his eyes looking back at you, and figuring out what was the wedge that drove you and him apart. Maybe this would somehow re-cultivate the half of your heart still hanging by the thread that tethered you to him.
“I-” You stood up, walking towards the door that was about to be opened and closed, and looked back at the three boys now favoring much more satisfied and slightly smug looks on their faces, “Oh, shut up.”
Jimin held his hand, palm facing the ceiling, in front of Namjoon who greeted it with a victorious high five. Seokjin held his pencil up to signify you that he could now peacefully start his essay, to which you smiled warmly. You couldn’t thank them out loud, because you had nothing to ‘thank’, or so you thought.
You were just making sure Hoseok wouldn't get in trouble. That’s all it was. Then, you opened and closed the door and began the chase again. This time, however, the fog that once hurdled your vision was easy to sift through with the loud beats of your heart navigating you through the moors of the hallways.
You turned left, then stopped to ponder on turning back and going right instead. Hoseok didn’t make this easy and you wouldn’t have expected anything less from him. Eventually, you just let your body wander the many halls for about ten minutes before you decided on furthering your search to the roof of the main building.
There was a new revenue of motivation that moved your legs forward. Before, they were struggling to keep up with everything life hurled at you. Now, it was far more determined and self-assured because you were moving towards a goal. You wanted to find him, and this time everything you had faced, all the loneliness, self-blame, forced smiles and friendships couldn’t keep up with you.
The stairs proved to be quite a test for your determination, and you passed with flying colors, heavy breaths, and inflamed hamstrings. You were lucky to push through the door and find him standing, staring off into the expanse of the fog. Towering over the haze had you realizing the entire school had been submerged, not just Hoseok and you and the library. Everything was under that sheet of blindness except for, as of now, you and Hoseok. The roof served as a platform to look upon the fog and stand safe from the numbing effect it debilitated on those in it. You knew he heard you. The perk of his ear as you ungracefully fell through the door to the open air told you he knew you were there.
You stood a few feet behind him, and he offered only the view of his back facing you. There was a line to be crossed if you were to go towards him, place your hand on his shoulder, and ask him to face you. Whatever line that was, you knew it was Hoseok who set it and you wanted to know why.
“It’s cold out here.”
He said nothing, but did provide the tenuous gesture to turn his head, giving you a side profile of his face. In turn, wiring through your eyes was the stains of what could only be deduced as tears along his cheek.
“Aren’t you cold? Let’s go back inside, Hobi.”
Hoseok couldn’t look, doing so would only invite you to join him. It would plot his every desire along the pavement and undress how much he wanted to have and hold you. But you were no one’s, least of all his, to hold.
“Dickson could be back any minute.” Your footsteps towards him raised the clarity of your voice. You were doing a fine job at hiding the real reason you came up to get him, both from yourself and Hoseok. It pinched his weathered heart that you had just come up to warn him about Dickson.
“Okay.” He answered curtly to bitter the atmosphere and showed no sign of leaving.
“Well, I’m not leaving here until you get your ass down there, so, you’ll be getting me in trouble too.” You crossed the line which felt more like walking over a burned bridge, and placed yourself next to him with perfect access to see his face.
He was even more beautiful standing above the fog.
You leaned your elbows next to his on the ledge of the building. His eyes, glistening from the tint of resisted tears, plowed over the treetops peeking through the top layers of mist. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was listening when his eyes were busy whispering secrets to everything in the far distance and the close proximities. To everything but you.
“Why?” Hoseok’s eyes were nudging towards the direction of you. He wanted so badly to look at you, to brave a glance but he was so cold out here that he had frozen over into ice.
In this ice, he couldn’t move or even breathe for that matter. Looking at you and not being able to move towards you was an unnecessary torture of which he'd rather not look at you at all. So, he remained in his calcified state, eyes edging dangerously close to you.
“Why what?” Your eyes moved away from him, to the fog instead, trying to see the ground below. “You’re staying up here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m staying with you.” Hoseok was shocked that you said this with such decisiveness; it was difficult to decipher whether this proposition came as easily as it was said. The lonely glades of mist were entrenched by a new plurality, like a double-edged sword ready to cut through the veil of secrets. The more you would push through Hoseok’s skin, the more it penetrated your own.
“God! Why can’t you just leave?” He removed himself from the ledge, pacing over to the space in the middle of the roof. Thinking this would suffice the desperation for distance was a gross miscalculation. You too pulled away from the ledge that overlooked the foggy plains and placed your steps consecutively with his.
“Don’t you see I clearly don’t want you here?” That lie tasted much more sour when spoken out loud.
“I don't! Okay? I really don’t. I don't understand… I- Why did you leave? What the fuck did I do?” Your voice had matched in elevation with your frustration; you were not referring to him leaving the library, but to his cold departure from your life over three years ago. And with that, was the unending pursuit of him.
“___, you just have better places to be. So go! Stop staying with me. Jesus fucking Christ! Look at me!” His hands angrily emphasized his sharp features that would surely draw blood if you came too close. “You shouldn't be hanging around with someone like me.”
“Is that what this has been all about?” You stood paralyzed; your body was stunned from this all too underwhelming reason. You were hoping that this wasn’t it, there was surely a much more redeeming explanation for how he ripped your heart right out of your chest. The thought that this was the reason for the cut tie had cornered you in a fiery rage. It made you furious. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hobi? That’s what this is about?”
What better place to be than right here, with you? You knew he would not be generous in giving any further explanation, so this question remained in your head.
“Yeah, actually, it is.” A shiver riddled its way under his jacket. He turned towards you, finding that revealing the truth which cemented him into a miserable, solitary life was not as climactic as he expected. Nor did he expect it to be revealed in the first place.
But it was, unceremoniously, rolled onto the roof. He had nothing to hide anymore so he looked at you. Your eyes, that he could finally see since you were above the fog, were close to tears. Years and years of denial and repression compounding against your heavy heart now alleviated, but it was not the least bit rewarding. You thought he was absolutely delusional to believe the gesture that his abandonment was rooted in the effort to protect you, when all it did was hurt you.
“No I-” You swiped your hand against your cheek, though it was useless as tears soon replaced themselves on your face, “That’s so stupid. That’s- You think I care? I don’t give a fuck about what you look like or what you do, Hobi. Don’t you understand I-”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not good.” His voice wavered through his throat, releasing more as a cry for help than an assertion of truth.
“How could you say that?” You did him the favor of taking the strides towards him. The initiative fell to you and your body moved through instinct to close that distance Hoseok kept trying to re-establish. His body was weak up close; when there was no space or fog and the jacket draped over his body could no longer keep his skin collected along his bones, he was weak and it was far more relieving to see him vulnerable.
“You were the best thing to ever happen to me. You were the only little first grader that wanted to be my friend and not just that. You showed me that someone could actually want to be my friend. You gave me so many years of happiness that would have been dreadful without you. I would have hated life without you. And I do! I hate life without you, Hobi. I’m so lonely.” You were unsure how you came to finally reveal every message your heart pumped through your veins and up to your brain for all these years, but you were glad it happened.
It wasn’t Hoseok’s lack of effort that kept all the good things he’s done under the rug of unimportance. It was the mounds of contempt the world held for kids like him. The stigma of abandonment and undesirability that was clamping down on any part of him brave enough to reach out, making it difficult for any feelings to be shown without irreparable harm or discouragement.
“You don't mean that.”
“I don't mean that. That’s it? That’s all you can say?”
It was, for the moment, all he could say. The feelings of unworthiness facilitated utter shame of himself like congruent figures now inseparable from each other and had molded a cage of confinement around Hoseok. His body was trapped under the scrutiny of everyone who expected him to fail, and one day he was afraid your eyes would join. That one day, you would look upon him with nothing of warmth, love, or admiration. Nothing of the eyes populated with blankets and storms and bountiful roses.
“You’re so fucking persistent!”
“Why are you pushing me away?”
“Because!”
“Tell me why! You know I deserve it.” The conversation metered out with a lot less organization and structure, which was the result of many untouched feelings released between the two of you. The blizzarding words were combative and destructive as well as reparative and conjoining, but most of all it was grievously uncivilized.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Three years. Three fucking years, Hoseok. I’ve wasted three years of my life blaming myself for losing you. Blaming myself for being lonely. God! I'm so mad at you! I'm so mad at myself for still loving you!”
And there it was. The last stroke of courage slipping from your mouth into the words spoken through an unfiltered and unrestrained heart. It was beating fast right now as if it had been unmoving in your chest for the past three years. Finally beating again, you felt all the blood return to your limbs in waves of pricks along the expanse of your skin.
Hoseok was not ready to be cast into the shallow, yet inescapable oasis of your testament. The remoteness of the past three years had him crawling through an emotionless desert, purged of any source of water or food or nourishments to keep his thick-skinned body functioning. The moment he was presented with a bit of the revitalizing water, Hoseok, like many starving people, dove into it too much, too fast.
He felt the atrophied muscles in his legs gain traction to glide towards you. The force was a savage agent of his tightly packed emotions which erupted the moment you said you loved him. He loved you, he knew that now, and his body wouldn’t allow him a second longer to sit desolate and starved.
Without stopping him, his lips planted roughly and passionately against yours. You were wrapping your arms around his neck before the logical sense of what was happening had been granted permission into your conscience.
Your heart, his heart, were guiding and deepening the kiss, only tangling you tighter into your dedication for him as much as it was twisting the confusion and unanswered questions into a larger, messier knot.
His tongue slid against your lower lip, assuming an entrance to slip himself into your mouth. Your jaw hung slightly agape and gluttonous at the way his lips spilled such tender movements against yours. His hands were running along your back fervently, holding your body firmly in place, like he was trying to keep his own body from disassembling.
Your lips were moving messily against his, though unchoreographed, they moved with a near perfect synchronicity. Refinement had seceded to your hunger to taste him. His mouth was sweet and hot, gentle and forceful, loving and angry, and the light pinch of his teeth that took your bottom lip between them had you moaning lightly into his mouth.
Then, everything once expounding into inexistence flooded back into reality. You divorced yourself from him as every empty promise claimed their demands to be fulfilled. The push against his chest was strong and it had to be in order to dissect that long awaited act of closeness.
“What the hell?”
A long interval of silence tormented the rooftop since Hoseok could only explain himself through guilty looks directed at the concrete floor. The surface upholding him was solid, of course, so it was strange that he suddenly felt like he was sinking into the ground below. His hand ran through his hair, trying to bring himself to words. To say anything or do anything other than take you in his arms and hold onto you so that his body wouldn’t sink beneath the roof’s malleable surface.
“I’m sorry.” And that was not good enough for you. Not when he kissed you like he loved you and didn’t let you fill three years with desperate, lost hopes.
“Sorry for what? For kissing me or for giving up on our friendship? Or for breaking my heart? Or for making me feel like I did something wrong or wasn’t enough for you? Or for making me think that everything built between us was just my imagination?” The list could have lengthened into an unplanned admittance of all the pain he caused you, however, it wasn’t the time for you to speak.
It was his turn.
“I guess I was just…” Afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore, “I guess I just didn't see it that way.”
“Stop lying.” You said and could only hope he wouldn’t revert to his evasive and insincere responses. Your hand came to rise and press against his chest. There was nothing to testify what came over you in this moment, but you wanted to feel his chest and know his heart was still beating. That, like yours, it still sent life throughout his body with its consecutive pumps. It was.
Ever so harshly pounding away at his rib cage as if it were trying to break free.
“I never… I never had anyone care.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t wanna drag you into my shit.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your hand moved from his chest to his chin, holding it in place so he couldn’t get the chance to look anywhere but into your eyes.
“Don’t be stupid, ___. My life isn't exactly picture perfect. From the beginning, my parents didn’t even want me.” He felt like he was being held emotionally captive by the years of trauma he had endured. Of the cycle of abuse and repression that crushed his will to feel anything at all. He was trying to break free. Despite all these facets of struggle, he spoke gently to you and it made your heart bleed empathy for his pain.
“Listen, there’s always that kid that everyone knows is trouble. Everyone knows that they’ll end up in a bad place. You know what I mean... That was me. I was that kid. I didn’t wanna drag you in that shit with me. You think I wanted to push you away? I had no other choice!” To you, he did have another choice. He could have stayed with you, but of course, he had no idea.
Hoseok looked at you so sadly, with eyes begging to be loved and a voice softened by his tender, bruised heart. He felt so isolated. The imminence of his downfall became prevalent ever since he began to pay attention to the judgmental whispers of teachers and parents on open house nights when he showed up parentless, or when he was the last one at extended day care when everyone else’s parents came to pick them up from school. Paying attention to detail was the wrench thrown into his life, unhinging the naivety, and drilling in its place the knowledge that society had ostracized him for being an orphan.
Maybe it was because you loved him so much, and it was blinding. You didn’t see much of the world outside of the lens of Hoseok, but you didn’t feel the need to see such a place. Your figment of him was always in a good light; you couldn’t fathom shedding darkness or disappointment or repulsion anywhere near him. So, when he said this, you were completely oblivious of that dehumanizing label many teachers, parents, and fellow students grouped him under.
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.” He jerked his head away with a scoff. Though to no avail, your hand still mounted onto his chin.
“No I mean,” Your head turned down, attempting to process this information into coherency, “I don’t understand how anyone could see you like that.”
“See, this is exactly why I can’t be around you. I’d ruin you! You see the best in me and that's the worst thing you could do.”
‘Ruin you’? You still didn’t know what that meant.
“Were people really that bothered that you were an orphan?”
He said nothing. He simply looked at you as if you had pointed out an observation so universally accepted that it went unneeded to be discussed. Like it was a given to cast someone like him off, or to repeat his worthlessness until it was purged from a tongue bored of belittlement and moved onto the next victim of verbal assault. He was simply one of the dominoes falling into place. Falling on top of each forgotten and neglected child.
“You wanna know what Dickson said to me?” He paused, not to wait for your permission but to prepare himself to recount the hurtful things still pronging against his open wounds, “He told me I’m unwanted. He told me that I was going to end up some loser not even worth considering a part of society. Basically, I’m damaged goods, ___, and you shouldn’t be hanging around me. You actually have a chance to make something out of yourself. Don’t waste that chance on me. I can’t let you do that.”
“You know that's not true.” Your hand moved to his cheek since he slipped too easily away from your grip of his chin. You held him in place, you held him with you.
“Why shouldn’t I believe it? ___, think about it. I am pathetic. My own parents didn’t even want me. And my foster parents told me I was just a financial asset. That my only worth was their monthly foster parent check.”
It was crushingly difficult to hear such punishing words coming from Hoseok. That he not only had to endure the unfeigned demoralization of those who saw his worth to be instrumental but that he had come to believe them. He came to resent himself for a choice that was not his to be made but still suffered every waking day for it.
“And I guess I thought you were going to leave me behind like everyone else seemed to do. Like everyone eventually just wants to get rid of me.”
“What?” The core pillar of your relationship with Hoseok relied on his permanence in your life, so hearing him fear what didn’t once cross your mind took you back as well as your hand. “Hobi, how could you think that?”
He shrugged distantly.
“Don’t. Don't you dare.” Almost out of nowhere, your soft cries were emulsified by the dryness of the air and turned into a heavy sob. But, it was not out of nowhere. It was from somewhere deeply upset that you let him think so lowly of himself all these years. That maybe, you hadn’t fulfilled your job as his best friend. “First of all, don’t you dare say that about yourself and second of all Dickson is a piece of shit.”
“___, please don’t cry.” He was urgent in his request.
Not over me. Don’t waste your wilting petals of tears over my corpse.
“You thought I would leave you? You weren’t protecting me from whatever inferiority complex you’ve carried around your whole life. You were protecting yourself.”
“It’s not like that.” He stepped towards you, trying to ignore the wince worthy pain when you dodged him as if he were a bullet. “___, I love you.”
You were astounded by the signals so contrasting of each other that they led you to a plight of hysterics. You had to let out a flustered chuckle at the way he told you he would be heading left then turned right when you were already walking on the opposite path.
“I love you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I love you.”
“You have a fucking horrible way of showing it.” Your arms folded over your chest and he realized it was his turn to keep your gaze locked with his. To chase you and to be put in the position that he forced you into three years ago. “I can’t understand you.”
“I was weak. If your hands were covered in blood would you walk up to something good and clean and force your stains on it? Would you leave disgusting prints of yourself on something so pure just because you were the only person in my life that didn’t see me as just an orphan?” Hoseok drowned himself in his words, but obtained and kept a soft hold on your cheeks with his hands.
He was unable to register how distorted his perception of himself was in your eyes, feeling as though everything he said drowned his lungs with waters that almost choked him from speaking at all.
There was a borderless delusion which fraught the comparison Hoseok just explained. It fell close to thoughtless and hollow, the way he reduced you to some virginal, helpless and unattainable prize on a pedestal; he subjected you to some paradigm of pristine stature that wouldn’t have the good nature to be anything less than empathetic for him. Though, you were not the image of purity or unmarred of pain and suffering; he was the reason for that.
“I'm not some little innocent kid. I know bad shit happens, but I’d never let that change the way I see you.” Filling the vacancy of your heart wasn't all too touching. You were distraught, distrustful, of everything in this world that led Hoseok to such a destructive mindset. To ruin the sweetest boy and subject him to undeserved misery. “You’re not just an orphan. You will not let that define you, you hear me? You are you. You are Jung Hoseok. To me, you will always be Hobi.”
The most frustrating part of this was tied between the fact that no real blame could be placed on one contender and the difficulty of understanding someone’s story when it went untold for far too long. Perhaps you had been pretending his pain didn’t exist because it was easier to see him as a stone-like, uncaring heathen. It was easier to cover your deep grief for losing him with hatred, but it did nothing to solve the division between you two; at the end of the day, you were still lonely and you still needed him. Wasting three years away to bitter resentment was nothing compared to knowing the truth of it all but having no power in redirecting yourself to compassion rather than anger.
“I should have been honest. I was scared.” He said. “I just thought I could never be enough for you.”
The fog was fully cleared. Your eyes panned from the edge of the roof to Hoseok’s needful gaze and down his addicting lips. All this time, he was just as alone and just as afraid, existing no less than a car ride away from you and still light years from ever being able to garnish his defeat with an admittance that he needed someone.
What more was there to say? Hoseok could have droned on about the way his foster parents stripped him of innocence and tossed him into the frigid hands of self-reliance or how he felt himself sinking into failure when the world of no mercy pulled him by the ankle and dragged his thrashing body through life without the guidance of someone who knew what was best for him. He could have explained how every unmet expectation put him against the world, in constant competition with not just everyone else but himself. Fighting against his need to be cradled and cared for with his resistance to tenderness enacted to thicken the skin on his body so the weaponry of an orphaned life, unearned glares of contempt and disapproval, and predisposed low regards wouldn’t dig as deeply.
He could have relayed all his nights lost to wondering why he wasn’t worth keeping. Why a child without the slightest clue how to dress, or bathe, or speak, or trust was turned away by the very people who brought him into this world and had to figure out all these lessons on his own.
It was the depletion of his own self-worth that drove him to loosen his grips, and how that was not of apathy but instead caring too much to let himself get in the way of your opportunely life. Letting you go was a loss that came with a painful imminence.
He said none of this because you looked at his eyes and he looked at yours. Through the clean air, the ripe and unhazed space among reuniting stares, he saw what your eyes carried. It was an ocean. A place of immeasurable depth and complexity, never still and constantly giving the sand something to shelter and love. A wide body of life and water that replenished the seared collection of bones under the parched skin of Hoseok’s flesh.
In loving you, in gazing into you, he let the water diffuse his skin until he was skinless, fully bone.
“I never stopped.” You redacted the fact that you were referring to loving him, because the unsaid implications were communicated much more beautifully and accurately than what the entire collection of the English language could attribute.
“Me neither.” Hoseok paused, dropping his hands from your face to his sides knowing with full confidence you and your gaze would remain with him, “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“I hate living. It's terrible. Everything about my life is terrible and I hate it.” His face turned wet quickly. Seeing this brought a natural desire to hold him again and to cast off his despair with your loving touch.
“Am I terrible?” You asked, hoping your words would serve as that gentle caress.
“No, how- Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m a part of your life. You might have gotten rid of me once, but I’m here to stay. Am I so terrible?”
“No. You’re wonderful.”
“Can you look at me and tell me I’m wrong when I say I need you in my life just as much as you need me?” The stagnant exchange of undeterred eyes was a comforting overture. A beginning that was not quite new, but a dormant adventure ready to be reborn into fruition.
“No.”
“So, I’m going to tell you. Hoseok, I need you in my life because I love you. Because no matter what people may say, you’ve brought nothing but love and happiness into my life.” The words, like a needle and thread woven into him, stitched the fabric of his heart back to fullness. “Do you understand? I believe in you. I will be there for you. That’s what friends are for.”
“You’re my friend.” It constituted both a question and an irrefutable statement.
“Yours.”
“Mine.” He smiled softly, a gentle disparity against his tears.
“Life won’t be so terrible. I promise. If we have each other. If we have people who care, life is not so terrible. You have me, Hobi, you have someone who cares.”
There was no profound revelation with what you said. Nothing that was original or unordinary; it was quite common to be told you were cared about. One could refine your words to about three, maybe four, with the same tact. But that is exactly what made it original and unordinary to Hoseok. Countless people said the words ‘I care about you’, trillions of times and in hundreds of different ways and languages. It was said over and over again but Hoseok was never familiar with the comfort of being on the receiving end. To be cared about, and to be told he was cared about was quite revolutionary, and a completely profound rarity to him. And to him, these words were invented by your caring tongue; the first utterance that transformed the radical concept of care into something plausible.
Sometimes, that’s all one needs. To be told they are cared for. Sometimes it’s enough to clean the bone of its wretched, heavy skin.
“What’s going to happen now?” You and he had migrated to look out to the fog ejecting itself among the trees and stretching all the way to the horizon. The trees were sitting so close together yet far enough for fog to slide between them. You wondered if the trees knew that they weren’t alone.
“At this point, it's up to you.”
Once again, it wasn’t said. The beautiful things were expressed through silence because it somehow fertilized the sincerity with greater effect. Verbalizing them would have tainted what was kept clean and loving inside the warmth and safety of your hearts. You never knew to have such a connection with someone where the most important things that should be said aloud were somehow louder when they weren’t. Somehow, with the gentle brush of his arms against your sides as he was embracing you from behind, it was louder than words.
There was a stillness encompassing every piece of this moment. A stillness of the air, of time, of the two bodies placed above the fog. You and Hoseok were arrested from reality, lounging in the freedom of each other’s presence. The bright orange sun permeated through the grey clouds, reflecting specks of light along the faces of you and him. Seeing your skin once again carrying soft ornaments of the sun’s rays returned him to the only place he felt like he belonged: your heart. Being taken away from the chaos of life, Hoseok felt that this Saturday fell within the bounds of eternity.
“Are we going to be okay?”
“Together, we will be. We have each other.”
You took his hand in yours, fingers sliding together. His attention was stolen by you, or maybe it had belonged to you this whole time and was simply being returned to its rightful owner, still soaking in the sweet rays of the sun. He had no facetious, obtuse comment to tack along the tenderness of the roof. For once, he was vulnerable. It felt euphoric, like his heart truly began to pump life blood into his body.
“Okay.” He readied himself for the new world he was about to embark on, though this time, it was hand in hand with you.
“Ready?” You took a few steps back, towards the stairwell, your arm pulling Hoseok along, “I got you, Hobi.”
He nodded, no longer afraid of the dark halls. His narrative was not a singular venture. There was a partnership, a force of love perhaps, that pushed him to step forward.
Hoseok once feared no one would get to his bones; to see the skeleton of himself underneath the epidermal armor. After many years and many layers of skin, no one had attempted much less succeeded in exposing his bones that yearned to be seen by the eyes of someone brave enough to face this quagmire.
And by chance, by timing's watchful eye, you had done just that. Lovingly exfoliated each layer of skin, washing away the scars and bruises of everything they had endured, and held his bones bare in your hands. Standing in the glimmering ocean waves of your eyes, feeling his bones, purified of all grief, against the air and conflated four years’ worth of the lonely, blinding fog once surrounding him.
Standing in the sandbox once again of double occupancy.
“I love you.” The words cascaded off his tongue with the same grace and earnest of what being in love felt like. Hoseok couldn’t do a lot of things and had quite a bit of trouble expressing himself for these past few years, but his love for you was something that couldn’t be anything less than accurate and sincere to do his heart a bit of justice.
“You said that already.”
“Are you going to say it back or not?” He pulled you in by your waist, leaving you no other option than to oblige the requests he flew into the air.
“I love you, Hobi. I do. I love you.” Your hands lifted to his face, and his cheeks were warm. Though soft skin covering it, you could feel his bones. They were being caressed, loved, touched by your hands.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he felt this at home when he wasn’t in your home of linens and lemons. His face shifted to the side to press his lips into your palm.
“I love you.” He said again, seeping into skin, printing the words into your bones. Hoseok had to repeat it, just to hear you say it once more, to make sure it was all real. That it wasn’t just him that was melting into the art of you, but the art of you touching him, coalescing with him.
“I love you.” Tears of his face were brushed by your thumb and they didn’t feel like the sad ones shed before. They were a sweet and gentle ode to everything he’d ever wanted since the moment he asked to play with you in the sandbox.
You were crying as well, holding him in your hands. Holding him. You could not see the fog, the only thing rapturing every sense was Hoseok. Your lips pressed lightly against his, feeling him smile into the kiss, and that drowned out the crisp, punishing air that pricked chills against your cheeks.
Hoseok knew he was going to be okay.
The two of you made your way back to the library, greeted with three suspenseful eyes, trained against the doorway partly from apprehension that Dickson would return and partly from hoping you and Hoseok would make a swift return. They, too, cared and wanted to see if Hoseok’s skin had finally shed.
“Heeeeey.” Seokjin drew out his coy greeting to tease you and Hoseok for the all too noticeable gesture of holding hands. Jimin and Namjoon were captured in the physical intimacy that you two casually displayed as well.
“You two took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Namjoon said to the pair of smiling faces now returning to the table behind Jimin without further explanation. He was implying the long absence of you and Hoseok was not delayed through a reprimand from Dickson but by your own insatiable desires for each other.
“I found this idiot on the roof. Took me a bit to convince him to come back down here, but I did it.” You turned over to Hoseok who was investing his efforts in rearranging himself back into an outwardly tough manner.
“Oh, I bet you had to do a lot of convincing, huh ___.” Seokjin’s comment was met with a light slap against his shoulder by your hand for his lewd teasing, and the way his fingers imitated quotation marks when he said the word ‘convincing’.
“Hey! I actually had to convince him. This man is very, very stubborn.”
“Yeah, ___ wouldn’t leave me alone so I didn’t have much of a choice.” He stared at his hand once being held in yours, trying to shovel over the smile simmering on his lips. Jimin shifted to face you and Hoseok, eyes squinting to slits from reading the overwhelmingly happy expressions on your faces.
“So, Dickson came back.” Jimin said, smiling widely.
“Oh shit. What did he say?”
“We all pretended that we could see you and he was the only one that couldn’t see you guys. It was hilarious, you should have seen his face.” Seokjin intervened with his own account of the story. Jimin turned to him and burst out laughing harder than when Dickson walked like a defeated soldier out of the library.
“He was like, ‘You kids need to learn respect. You mess with the bull, you get the horns’ whatever that means. But he didn’t even end up doing anything because he knew we wouldn’t snitch. But, damn, you should have seen his face.” Jimin’s hand covered his mouth during the process of him laughing and wedging in pieces of the story in between.
“That sounds like the dumbest cover up ever, but I guess Dickson is somehow dumber than that.” The count of five smiles amounted to each of you hunching over with laughter at the vice principal’s idle reactions to the detentionees displaying a clear sign of insubordination.
“He is. He really is that dumb.” Namjoon said during a pause from whatever he was drawing.
“Well, either way, I appreciate the effort. And Hobi does too, even though he won’t admit it.” His stubborn disavowal of expressing appreciation contrived through rolled eyes that then landed onto the four others accompanying his space. Though shadowed through his many apathetic modes of emoting, he found this Saturday detention not only bearable, but enjoyable. He found himself attached to other people after severing all ties from actual intimacy. Being connected and vulnerable was an easier way of going about his life. And, he didn’t realize it then, but he planned on keeping it that way.
“Hey guys?” Seokjin tossed aside the Dickson debacle with this conversational prelude, “What’s gonna happen when we go back out there?”
“What do you mean?” You asked, absentmindedly reaching over to grab Hoseok’s hand at the mention of leaving the safe space of the library. He responded to you with a gentle, reassuring squeeze that eased the contraction of your worried muscles.
“We’re still gonna be friends, right?” The prospect fell into consideration as the five of you were moved to silence. After a few exchanges of ambivalent and uncertain glances, Namjoon worked in a soft smile to soothe the frightful thought of returning to the harsh reality.
“Yeah. We are.” His confirmation spoke for the rest of your benevolent agreement.
“Well, I better see you guys at all of my games.” Jimin set this expectation as a receival of the newly polished friendships, grooming quite a bit of fondness being that the four of you knew more about Jimin than his own parents. “And, we’ll be sure to go to Namjoon’s.... Art competitions?”
“Not quite, but I appreciate the thought.” Namjoon laughed.
The commonalities that were once so obscured between you all had become clear by the arrival of the eighth hour. Though there were many obstacles placed to stint any form of connection between five polar adversaries, you all found a salve from the relentless feeling of loneliness through each other. Your essays were never written, finding Dickson’s call for another Saturday detention of probable cause. Even if you were to write an essay on what you did wrong and why it was wrong as well as why you were sorry, there would be no truth unveiled in it. You all found that living unapologetically had been a far more effective catalyst for growth and maturation than any half-hearted essay assigned by a man with no credentials to call himself a student administrator.
There was that phrase, "down to the bone", that had hung over Hoseok's mind for quite a bit today. Some say it implies when you've spent all you had, and are left with the poverty of dry marrow. That, to him, was a mutilation of the phrase which he couldn't accept.
This colloquial, "down to the bone", could not be a reference to having nothing left. Not in his case at least. Not when he felt so full of safety with nothing but his bones under the home of your eyes and hands
Hoseok looked at you, then to the other three and knew things would be different. Eventually, things would get better, he just had to wait long enough for those better things to come.
You found each other, and that was all that mattered.
A week later, you met up in the campus’ cafe with Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok discussing the rather insignificant topic of which contestant was going to be eliminated from the reality television show you had all been keeping up with.
“Hey, did you guys ever actually write that essay Dickson told us to write?” Seokjin asked, knowing he had failed to do so.
“Nope.” Jimin said unregretfully, almost with a prideful twist.
“Of course not.” You replied.
“Well, I might have written something on behalf of all of us. It wasn’t an essay per say, more like a letter to Dickson.” Namjoon said smugly into the cup of his coffee.
“What? What did you write?” Jimin put forth the curiosity shared by the four of you.
“Oh nothing too special.” But, of course, if it was anything of Namjoon’s doing, it was something entirely special.
You decided not to further pry on the specifics of what was written, rather sipping your coffee and learning not to regret how the hot liquid burned your tongue. Those eight hours spent in the library gifted you with a wider perspective. Maybe you burned your tongue on this coffee, and tomorrow you might miss the bus to work. Or, sometime in the near future, there would be a new store in the mall that lured you away from the errands set to a schedule and you would have to rush back to work a few minutes late. You learned that these small misdirections in life happen, at the exact right time and the exact right place.
The grateful receive of every moment, deliberate or erroneous, was like a single grain of sand. One grain might pinch out some annoyance. Ten was too textured to ignore. Dozens and thousands padded down as a sandbox where two childhood friends could play. And millions of grains of sand, of gratefully received moments, cultivated a soft shoreline; a place where the deep blue tides had a comfortable bed to tumble onto when it was tired from the tempestuous ocean. Where the contents of the ocean could spill along the wet sand, and it would humbly the tired water’s offerings. A place where a mass of misty, opaque air could roll in, cover every inch of the ocean and would blind the eyes.
But, never the heart.
The hearts, joined since the first grade, were free of scars because of the plethora of love that continued to flourish even in your absence. Love always keeps the heart safe.
Timing was a fickle arbiter, always tearing you from one thing to the next and the next and the next, but somehow leading you to exactly where you were meant to be. It has a way about itself, inevitably delivering you into the lives of those you were meant to be with.
With Jimin, with Namjoon, with Seokjin.
And once again with Hoseok.
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a/n: thank you so much for plowing through this long, angsty one shot! i am so happy to finally release this and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed creating it. as always, i would love to hear feedback from you lovely readers!
Genre: Angst with slight fluff if you squint (non-idol AU)
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Summary: Can love overcome all even heartbreak?
Tags: Cheating; Non-Idol; Angst; Requested
Word Count: 2.1k (oops, I got carried away)
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A/N : While I don’t support couples being together after one of them cheats on another, I tried to make this as realistic as I could. Hope you like it! Thanks for requesting :)
For @yummypangpang
Picture not mine. All credits to the owner.
It was your and Taehyung 2-year anniversary. It had been blissful 2 years; they went by so fast you can’t even remember where the days have gone by. You were both really good friends in college always joined at the hip. People always assumed you were dating each other but you were both always too shy to admit your feelings to each other, not sure what the other felt you’d both just keep what you felt to yourself. Not wanting to destroy the friendship you both had you would make sure to keep all you felt hidden whenever you both hung out. Little did you know Taehyung did the same.
But as soon as college ended there was a sudden fear. What if you both drift apart, what if work comes between the two of you, so many what-ifs eating away at the both of you. Maybe this was the reason that Taehyung decided to take the matter into his hands. One day he took you to dinner at your favorite Thai restaurant and asked you out.
You were ecstatic, over the moon elated and obviously said yes. Since then it’s been a rollercoaster ride. Being straight-out of college, you both have been working overtime to make as much money as you can and achieve your dreams the sooner you can. You work in journalism and Taehyung in a big architecture firm. Your weeks have always been busy but you both make sure that you always spend the weekends together no matter what. How else would you keep the spark alive?
Last year for your anniversary, you both went away for a weekend trip and stayed at a resort. It was absolutely perfect. Still now when you think of those 2 days you can't keep smiling.
This year however, you both have had more work than usual. This is why you’ve barely seen Taehyung in the last month and when you saw him, he’s been distracted, stressed and mostly ignoring whatever you’ve been telling him. You couldn’t figure out why he was being like this. He was usually always attentive. Always paid attention to you even if you were both meeting for coffee between work breaks and spoke to you as if you haven’t spoken in days, recounting all the office stories. You would do the same. You didn’t worry too much though, you knew how stressed he was because of a new project he had gotten, which could potentially lead to a promotion. You were happy he had this opportunity and that he had a great team of people helping him.
So, this year, you settled for a late-night dinner to celebrate your anniversary. You had texted Taehyung all the details of the restaurant and the reservation. It was a quite French restaurant. You figured that if you couldn’t go to France, the least you could do was bring France to you.
After work, you drove to the mall to pick up Tae’s gift that you had chosen a week ago. It was a silver band Skagen watch with a green dial. You had saved up to buy this. You were positive Tae would love it. He did have a thing for watches. You then made your way to your apartment.
Unlocking the door, you entered inside and made your way to your bedroom to get dressed up for your date. You had bought a new emerald green dress which had a lowcut neckline and the dress came a little above your knees. You were sure Tae would love you in it. Hell, you loved yourself in it. It wasn’t often your confidence was this high, but the dress made you feel all sorts of good things. After doing some light makeup and putting on your heels, you texted Tae telling him that you were on your way to the restaurant. He didn’t get back to you. Maybe he was driving, you thought to yourself.
Once at the restaurant, you were led by a young waitress to your table, it was right beside the big window overlooking outside. Taehyung wasn’t there yet, maybe he was just late.
You texted him that you’ve reached and were trying to pass time on your phone. He was 15 minutes late, no big deal. You tried calling him but there was no answer. You were getting a little anxious, but it wasn’t really out of the ordinary to be late.
When Tae was about half an hour late and the waitress had walked by your table for the fourth time asking whether you would like to order, you started to feel worried and embarrassed. You kept calling Taehyung, but he wasn’t picking up. Finding this odd and slightly worrying you picked up your things and left the restaurant, not before shooting an apologetic look at the waitress and a little tip for holding up the table.
You decided that the best would be to go to Tae’s apartment and check whether he forgot about the date or whether he’s still held up at the office. So, you made your way to his apartment, it was a short 15 minute drive. On reaching you saw that his car was still in the driveway and the lights inside were switched on. Seeing this made you furious. While you were sure there was some logical explanation, you couldn’t help feeling angry and a little upset that there was something more important that your anniversary dinner. You understand he’s busy but the least he could do was let you know so that you don’t feel like a fool waiting at the restaurant.
You took the keys from your bag and unlocked the door and went in.
“Tae, babe?” You called out for him. But he didn’t answer. It was a small apartment, surely, he would’ve heard the front door open.
His bedroom door was closed so you moved forward to check if he was inside. You opened the door just a little to peek in and it was as if your entire world had come crashing down. Tae saw you and you saw him. His hands on her thigh, her lips on his neck and their clothes scattered across the room. Your eyes met. For a minute, the world stopped spinning. You couldn’t understand what was happening. All you could see was Tae looking at you with dread in his eyes and fear. Fear of what he was doing and fear of losing you. A single tear ran down your cheek and you suddenly were jolted from the shock of seeing your boyfriend fucking his one of his teammates.
“Shit” Taehyung mouthed while pushing the girl away and scramming to look for his clothes.
You closed the door with a thud. Not knowing what to do or where to go, you took out his watch from your bag and threw it at the living room floor. As Taehyung opened the bedroom door and came outside pulling on his t-shirt, you were racing towards the door and into your car.
“Y/n wait. Y/n listen to me please, I can explain.” Tae begged while tears ran down his cheeks. But you didn’t wait for his apologies. You couldn’t. You backed away from his driveway to drive. your house as you saw Taehyung from the rearview mirror trying to make you stop. You didn’t stop even when you saw him fall down on the road and break down in tears. You couldn’t even see the road properly through your tears.
You couldn’t believe your eyes. You couldn’t believe that the man you loved and who you thought loved you could break your trust so easily. After driving aimlessly for a while not knowing where to go, what to do and what to think you made your way to your home. You knew that Taehyung would be waiting at the door. You knew he would want to talk. You thought you could handle seeing him and telling him to go away. You thought you could be strong. You should’ve known though. He was your bestfriend, he could see right through you.
You saw him sitting on the steps with his head in his hands. You quietly got out of the car and walked towards him.
“How could you?” This was all you could say when you saw his face. You couldn’t deny that you loved him and seeing him after he was just fucking his colleague on the same bed he made love to you for 2 years was not easy. Hell, it was devastating. Your tears were streaming down your eyes. Taehyung moved his hand to wipe them away. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You flinched and moved away from him.
He knew he fucked up. “Y/n I’m so so sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did. I had a really bad day at the office….. and she was just there. She saw it all and then she took me out drinking and I guess I just lost control…” You cut him off.
“What do you mean she was just there and you lost control?” “What the fuck do you mean Taehyung?”
“So have you been losing control on every bad day you’ve had?”
“Do you even know what today is?” “Today Taehyung, is our 2nd anniversary, which you very conveniently forgot because you had a bad day. I had planned a date for us which you conveniently stood me up for because she was just there and today you just lost me. Your bestfriend and your girlfriend, conveniently because you lost control.”
Taehyung heard it all. Quietly at first and then through his uncontrollable sobs. He loved you, very much. You knew it. He knew it too. It was always you who got him through his bad days. He didn’t know what to say to make it better. He couldn’t lose you. Sex with her didn’t mean anything, it was just a way to get over the stress for losing his project to his rival. He couldn’t believe he made this mistake, a mistake that could cost him losing you. And he told you all of this, while he held your hand that you let him, reluctantly Ofcourse.
“Please y/n you have to believe me. It didn’t mean anything. It’s never happened before and I know I made a huge mistake but please don’t give up on us. Please just give me another chance. I can’t live without you. You know that. Y/n please.”
You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t even look at his face right now because of the hurt. The scene flashing before your eyes again and again. But you also couldn’t give him up. You loved him too much. And he loved you. You kept reassuring yourself that he did. That this was a mistake and that maybe you can both get through this.
“Y/n please say something. I will make it up to you. I will make it all better. You’re the one I love and want and need. Please.” Tae kept holding your hand and looking into your eyes but he couldn’t see the light that he always did. He couldn’t help but feel that he lost you and the fact that he hurt you was killing him.
“Tae, maybe I need time to think. Maybe we both need some time apart.” You whispered.
Taehyung couldn’t believe his ears, ‘some time apart’ would take you away from him. He was certain. He knew that the more you were away the more he would break and the more you would realize that this is a mistake you both could not recover from.
“No y/n please, I think we need a lot of time together. Time apart would only break us, and I don’t want to break up with you. I understand you need time to think. I get it, trust me. But don’t break up with me please.” Tae held your face with both his hands and wiped away your tears with his thumb. Looking down he pleaded and tried to reason with you.
You saw the pain in his eyes. You saw that he realized his mistake. And while you were hurting and you couldn’t shake off the fact that he broke your trust. You couldn’t help in that moment hugging him. With all your might. He took you in his arms as you broke down. He kept apologizing and pleading. You didn’t know how long had it been since you were both standing on the steps holding on to each other.
You broke away from the hug and Tae looked at you questioningly. Not saying anything. Searching your eyes for some sort of answer.
“Let’s go inside. I can’t forgive you yet. Please know it’ll take some time, but I can’t give up on us either.” You walked towards the door and unlocked it.
“That is all I ask from you.” Taehyung said softly holding your hand, giving you a sad smile.
So, on your second anniversary, you both slept away from each other. Taehyung on the couch and you in the room. But at least, you both agree that you’re still together and ready to work on your relationship. Because he was your bestfriend and if it wasn’t with him, you didn’t know who or what you would be. So you couldn’t give him up. At Least not yet.
