Chapter Text
What tumults I have reached
that my patience has left me,
I have never lived for even a moment
away from you
A craze for you exists in my heart
so please don't betray me
A habit of mine you are,
can you fault me?
Yoongi enters his house with his mind in a terrible swirl of emotional haywire. He feels nauseated, hands trembling over the handle as he stands still behind the closed door, remembering Taehyung's face as it breaks into one of utmost vulnerability, confusion and dread. An expression of feelings that you'd never imagine a man like Kim Taehyung to go through.
Taehyung is a wall of unshakeable confidence, self esteem and sufficiency. He never needed validation, never pondered over loss, he's a man who's learnt his worth, who walks with the knowing capability of building his fortune again. No setbacks could shake him because there was no destined path he chose as a goal.
Yoongi had shaken the pillar of this man, from it's root in a way that made his legs stagger, his eyes glaze and his body paralyse with fear. Taehyung was born to be unshakeable, and Yoongi had shaken his very foundation on more than one occasion.
It's what love does.
It's what attachment to a person to this extent does.
He knew this, he's tried saving himself from this very parasitic phenomenon but it's done it's damage, it's got its hooks around Yoongi's heart and refuses to let go.
He knew the diagnosis for this all along. Of course he did, Min Yoongi wasn't a fool. He could feel the symptoms begin at that school gate; there was no denying the feverish rush with Taehyung's intimacy, words and touch. Yoongi had lived through these 8 years with the cause of his ailment right by his side. He's seen them grow accommodating each other in this paradox of an symbiosis.
Yoongi never considered himself lucky to have recieved Taehyung's love. He'd been afraid of it from the beginning.
He doesn't love Taehyung for what he thinks he should have.
The face that's visible on enormous billboards of enormous companies.
His demeanor as a vibrant person with kind actions.
His absolute contribution to the Hallyu wave with his record breaking hit dramas and movies.
His singing, his acting, his selflessness, his respectfulness.
None of them.
Yoongi loves Taehyung for the way he looks at Yoongi.
He loves Taehyung because Taehyung learnt how to play a movie's title song on the keyboard for him.
He loves Taehyung for always picking up his call in less than 4 rings.
Yoongi loves Taehyung because Taehyung knows how to love in such devoted earnestness.
Taehyung's love burnt just as effervescently as him– beautiful, life-threateningly so. Yoongi knew one thing the moment Taehyung's eyes began to shine towards him, that it was lethal to his soul.
It would shred and gobble all of him, until there's nothing left. Until Taehyung's taken it all and Yoongi's exhausted himself with adapting to the fire. The burning forest ends up fizzling. Story Princes are loyal to kingdoms more than their lovers.
The world wants someone who burns bright, and when the world wants someone, there's a pedestal made for them. Taehyung is the Prince, that's his role. Yoongi has always been vary of people with these pedestals.
He knew the diagnosis, but just like patients who live in denial of their terminal illnesses, he wouldn't want to face it. Not when he knows that no treatment would work.
So he pushes away from the door, hands tightly holding the car keys. Deep breaths in and out. He drops them in the basket over the nearest table, hangs his coat on the rack.
With one hand brushing away his fringes, he removes his shoes and puts on slippers. Another deep breath.
"Clinic duty reports, t-thesis, laundry.." he nods to himself.
There's a silence in the house, which has always existed, yet seems so loud to him at the moment. This amplification of the echo or his footsteps, only disturbs him more.
He wants to cry, he realises when he's in his home clothes.
It's the same sweatshirt, that damn purple one.
There's few instances where he does end up finding his eyes burning and throat clogging. With a life as smooth going as he had built himself, turmoils are non existent to tear up over.
But it's mostly the past and the memories, rather than the present that is lamented over.
The house is too dark for anyone to navigate, but Taehyung knows every corner and angle of material in this house to be deterred.
He knows better than to switch on the lights. He curses under his breath and chucks off his sandals, his coat thrown on the futon in the living room as he takes long strides into the adjacent study.
"Dad had another episode of…I scheduled an oxygen therapy session again. I'll bring him in for a check up again." He nods to himself, an addition to his list being scritched in his mind.
Taehyung kisses his shoulder, then lets himself rest on it.
"How's he now?"
"You saw him at dinner."
"He seemed fine, little tired perhaps. The migraines are back?"
Yoongi makes a short sound of agreement, the ring of the key he just played echoes in the wide room. He's pulled further into Taehyung's arms. “He'll be fine, he's much stronger than the Min I know, which is a whopping lot. You're a lot to handle you know?” A kiss is pressed against his head, Yoongi simply nods and relaxes into his hold.
“Sometimes, I wonder what I will do, if he..if he leaves.”
“He won't leave you, he loves you too much for that.”
‘We’d never leave’ he whispers softly against him.
"This is ridiculous," he presses the heel of his palm against his eyes, willing away the unwarranted tears.
A splash of cold water does not help, neither does a big gulp of Amarone. If anything, Yoongi finds his resolve to initiate any of his planned chores to be vanishing in the slow, soft headiness.
He finds it hilarious now, how he has a sane response to every problem in his life by this point along with a perfectly sought place in his life just as he'd planned, but his breaking point has come in the form of Taehyung.
He had never had to worry about Taehyung not being there. He didn't want to.
Wasn't this exactly what the entire matter was about? Now Taehyung might not be there, waiting for him, standing by him. Maybe he might finally listen to Yoongi, perhaps he's realised that worldly pedestal and his worth.
Yoongi just stands in the middle of his living room, wine glass irresponsibly discarded on a north wall cabinet.
Why was he even crying? He didn't lose a patient. He's healthy, his dad is alright. He has an amazing roof over his head, kitchen completely stocked. Just yesterday one of their hospital's attorneys had asked him out.
He's doing pretty great in life. There's nothing to cry about, rationally.
But a faint whisper from the dark foggy corner of his mind speaks tom him.
You might not have him anymore.
He looks up at the ceiling, the small chandelier panels momentarily blinding him.
And that's all your fault, isn't it? You hit his tipping point.
He can't stop the tears this time. Hot gushing streaks running down the side of his eyes. He repeats the process of trying to stop them, in vain.
The sharp series of shrill ringing does it for though, making his eyes fly open, and he immediately whips his head towards the door. His hands are clammy and cold as dread fills him because he knows who it is.
He keeps staring at the door, hoping the man at the other end would just understand and go away, even as it makes fresh tears well up in his eyes.
The ringing still hasn't stopped, though Taehyung knows the passcode, and the way through every window along with a key.
He slowly stumbles to the door and wipes his eyes to see the security screen better. Even in anguish as he paces, Taehyung looks like a mirage.
He wants him so much, but he can't.
“Go back Taehyung.” The pacing stops.
“Open the door.”
“You..you have a rehearsal tomorrow. Please just go home.” He sniffs, and flinches slightly when Taehyung starts banging his fists against the door. It doesn't shake noisily, but it must hurt. He tries to collect himself and sound like his sane assertive self.
“Stop being irrational, I've said whatever I wanted to. There's nothing more to—”
“For you maybe,” he sees Taehyung lean his head against the door, reddened fists still hitting the mahogany. “But I haven't said my part.”
“You'll get hurt,” he whispers, a light finger brushing against the small image of his friend.
“Then open the door Yoongi, please.” He does as told this time, and immediately walks away to get an icepack as the door chimes open and shoes clatter to the floor.
He doesn't get very far in the kitchen, when his arm is grabbed and he's held against cold arms and a burning gaze.
“When will you stop running, hm?” Taehyung growls inches from him, chest still heaving and his hair wild. His jacket hangs askew his shoulders, a man possessed. How will Yoongi escape from him?
“When you begin to understand my words, now let me go.” He tries to squirm away weakly, but both of them know that it's a wasted effort.
Taehyung brings up his hands to hold his face, and Yoongi knows he can't look away.
“Tell me so I can understand! I'm not the smart one here Yoongi, so please, for the love of God tell me what's holding us back?!”
His gaze turns soft then, and he brushes away a stray tear from Yoongi's cheek. “Nothing you say will make me leave,” his conviction makes Yoongi freeze, there's not a single word in this… this vow that he can't believe. It's a truth that Taehyung promises to him and a weight that lifts itself from Yoongi's burdened heart. He breathes heavily against the arm that holds him. Taehyung understands his needs better than anyone and so he holds him softly and secure as he walks him back towards the counter. He brushes his face, his face never faltering in its intent of affection.
“So tell me. I'll take care of it all.” It's another chance to a decision that is entirely Yoongi's. He can put this game of theirs off for another eight years, they continue this vicious cycle of chase and he nurses his conscience back to convince himself that he was right.
It never lasts.
He can never completely be mine.
What if he leaves?
He won't survive, he's not his dad.
He doesn't want them to change.
What if Taehyung changes?
What if he leaves?
Yoongi blinks up at him with wet lashes and reaches for his hand. Taehyung entwines their fingers and nods at him. There's nobody else but him and at that moment Yoongi is certain that it would always be that way.
"I don't want to be like this, it makes me feel bad about myself."
"Like what?" He holds his fingers tighter, a firm assurance that he's there, and a promise that he would be no matter what Yoongi says. His eyes flash with fiery intent. "Like what Yoongi?"
"Selfish." Yoongi waits for any change in the resolve his eyes had shown, but the slow exhale of relief from the other yet again surprises and calms him.
And then Taehyung takes Yoongi's face in his hands and holds his gaze with eyes so ablaze with desire that Yoongi's breath stutters.
Is it worth it? Is it worth being swept up in that storm of want?
Taehyung seems intent on brushing those mind-scavenging questions away, for his next words seem to resonate to Yoongi, leaving him light-headed and heavy-hearted simultaneously.
"Be selfish," he says with the conviction of a man that can own the world, and will place it in Yoongi's palms in the blink of an eye. "Hell be whatever you feel like. It won't change how I feel about you."
He slowly brushes a thumb across Yoongi's cheekbones, and all he can do is stare back at him, weary and helpless, beseeching . His voice turns softer now, a sermon which he listens to with all the devotion that he never had towards God himself.
"We're allowed to have sins, nobody's obliged to perfect themselves to goodness. It's why I know I fell in love with a human and not an angel fantasy."
Taehyung takes in Yoongi's disheveled state, hair mussed up from when he pulled at it before and breath slow, his dark eyes boring into his for validation–to be his anchor in this moment of emotional turmoil when he himself is the cause of it.
He cards a hand through his locks, straightening and patting them back to proper. Then he tucks the black waves behind Yoongi's ears which now give a delicate frame to his ever-stunning, and flushed face.
"You don't love angels,” he whispers as he moves closer, “because they aren't designed to feel, we are. And if you feel, you're already flawed. Feelings mess us up and that's where the balance tips and euphoria peaks."
Yoongi's chest moves with slow breaths, his gaze never waning away from Taehyung's eyes.
"So what you're saying is," he speaks lowly, so much that Taehyung takes a step even closer. Now they stand a breath's distance away and Yoongi looks at him with a shining, yearning gaze. "That I'm becoming a mess for you?"
"Dear god Yoongi."
Taehyung pulls him in by the nape, crushing their lips together and licking into his mouth with the fervour of a man who's no longer being held by chains he put on himself years ago.
There's such trepidation in this liberation, but it's all unravelling at the large hands of this man who touches him rough and soft. There's love in the way he presses himself against him and simply holds them together.
His lips are soft, his tongue is hot and Yoongi's own body feels like it's on fire. Taehyung brings up his hand, runs it down Yoongi's chest and under his t shirt to stroke his skin.
It's like electricity every inch he touches and Yoongi slips that offending, sexy jacket off Taehyung’s shoulders to press his palm against his back, bringing him closer. He can feel Taehyung’s erection hard against his thighs, and it makes him heady with pure want. It scares him, the mindlessness of losing himself in a man at the same time how it leaves him in awe of the same
"This is a moment of weakness"
"Okay.” a thumb brushes against his nipple and he jolts slightly. He takes a moment to lean back and catch his breath, and he sees Taehyung's smouldering gaze. He brings up a hand to brush against his swollen, spit slicked lips and Yoongi can taste the salt off his thumb.
"This doesn't mean anything, I- I don't," lips press harder, tongue licking deeply into his mouth, lips sucking harder on his.
"Okay," Taehyung nods and pulls off Yoongi's sweatshirt, a hand going around his waist and pulling him flush towards him. Closer and closer, he felt every nerve of his ignite into flames–then resurrect back only to become explosive again. Yoongi's always so pretty, soft in aspects which makes him dizzy. He wishes he could sync their heartbeats together forever, live as long as he lives.
He lifts him up slightly, sits him on the edge of the kitchen counter. It took an effort, but Taehyung prefers to put in every strain if it keeps Yoongi enveloped in his arms.
The warmth of Yoongi's proxity began to heat into combustion on his skin, clarity and dreams and the blur a divine mix now. Nothing could compare to this feeling, nothing. Taehyung has never doubted his passion for him, and yet this feeling is an additional justification to his own self. He's here in his arms, just for this moment Yoongi is his as much as he is Yoongi's.
He leans back and forces clarity to ascertain the reality as he sees Yoongi's wanton face, his alluring gaze that reels him right back.
Taehyung knows he'll never meet skin that bears the marks of his love so well. He presses deep, harsh kisses down his neck, feels himself want more with each moan Yoongi let's out. His desire and affection spike higher as Yoongi throws his head back with each grind against him, pulling at the back of Taehyung's hair–an anchor to not lose to this feeling.
"How do you want it?" Taehyung breathes against his collarbones, gazing up at him through his lashes as he presses another kiss to his chest and pulls off his pants. Yoongi looks like he's barely holding on to his breath, each inhale resulting in the softest contact of his sternum against Taehyung's lips.
He brings his hand from Taehyung's hair to his cheek, leaving a lingering trail beneath his jaw. Taehyung holds his breath then exhales as the soft fingers brush against his cheek, beneath his eyes and down the slope of his nose.
Yoongi's seen infatuation, bare passion and worship in Taehyung—why did he let this go on? He could have stopped this tangle of fates on that evening near the gate.
Could he have? Did he want to? This love could break people, but can also give purpose and the highest degree of happiness a person could have. He wants to be limitlessly happy too, and he will be today. Then tomorrow he puts his barrier back. He'll break Taehyung's hope and heart again.
"In a way that shows every inch of your love for me. You've waited, now won't you take me?" He's always been coquettish during sex, but today he feels shy too.
Taehyung grins back at him, like it's the most liberating demand he's made. He pulls off his own shirt and belt in a way that makes Yoongi squirm more which Taehyung somehow catches on and sends him a wink.
“All yours,” he says as he pushes off his pants and underwear too. His cock is perfect too, flushed big and girthy enough that Yoongi knows won't fit in his mouth. He desperately wants to try though.
He strokes himself and then pushes forward to stand between his legs, rutting against him who is still clothed in his boxers. Yoongi let's out a moan against the back of his hand, which is moved away by Taehyung immediately to the side as he settles a rhythm to his slow thrusts. Yoongi brings up a hand his hold him close by the nape, and digs in his nails when he starts moving faster.
“ Oh god,” he groans into Yoongi's shoulder, and slows down to envelops his arms around Yoongi's thighs and runs his hands along the sides, mapping his skin and feeling him.
“Don't wanna come like this,” he says against his throat. “Want to be in you, Yoongi. I want to feel you more.”
Never in his life had Yoongi felt insecure about himself, but when Taehyung looks at him so openly and so bare, he wishes he was the most perfect being in the world.
"Tae I...I'm not.. oh.. I'm not one of the 36-24-36, in case..you know…" he brings up a hand to cup Taehyung's cheek to make him look up from his chest. He looks like a man starved, his muscles taut and eyes alight akin to as if spotting a feast.
"And thank god for that. I've got more of you to love." He kisses him hard, then softer, nipping at his lips, his cheeks, hands still exploring his body as his fingers brush across the soft supple skin of his stomach and waist.
He places feather light pecks down his neck, nosing at his jaw. A kiss to his chest, then he drags the tip of his tongue across a pink nipple, circling it slowly to the stuttering breath of the man below him. He smiles, reaches up a hand to brush across a hazy-eyed Yoongi's cheek.
"You bring me to my knees with just this face, you have no idea how hard it is to hold back when you're in my arms."
"When this body is pressed to mine, there's no comparison Yoongi. You make me feel, exceeding any limit of euphoria, how do I ever go anywhere else?"
"You don't." Yoongi says huskily, "you can't leave at all now."
It's so tender–all these actions, caressing and touching. It ironically pulls harsher at Taehyung's heartstrings. A mock of what it could be. Taehyung stops the negative thought, which couldn't be helped when insecurity and uncertainty of over 8 years without a single progress presents itself. Though today marks a huge achievement in his books. He thinks his gallery has bloomed a million more moments today.
He'd been afraid deep inside, of never having Yoongi's love back. Fear of his hope–a lifeline–shattering clawed into him every minute of his life which he could never show anyone because he needed to believe in himself. There's only Yoongi who saw through him, the plea of hope in his eyes. Maybe that's exactly why right now, that tenderness feels like a promise of what will be.
How does he not get addicted to the scent of his skin, he kisses his jaw. Hands around his shoulder tighten just as he cards his fingers through his muse's hair to bring him even closer. All these years Yoongi has run away from him, and his own feelings but right now there's nowhere else to run. Taehyung won't let him, he'll let himself have this one night. Just to confirm in his new revelation, that Yoongi has finally begun giving his heart too. Cell by cell and slowly but surely.
And so he leans in to capture his small cherry lips with his own and asks– begs:
"Be mine for tonight Yoongi."
They've never laid together this way, naked and warm in his bed where their feelings have been so palpable in the air. Yoongi hasn't let go of Taehyung's hand, and he doesn't think he can tonight.
There's a lot to think about, many changes that he'd have to come to terms with. The future and the consequences of this love that he's drenched in for this man. One look in his eyes and Yoongi's decisions are made. He seals his fate with Taehyung today, has given himself to him as a promise. He snuggles closer to him and doesn't look away.
But when a dark shadow passes over the other's gaze, it makes his heart slow. It can't be..is he already regretting this?
"When you said this doesn't mean anything…" Taehyung tightens his hold on his hand, bringing it up against his chest to feel the cool over his warming heart. Oh.
"Did you really mean that?" There's a gaze which begs for the truth, for sincerity and faith that he promises. It makes his chest tighten, and words get stuck in his throat.
Their relationship is one with honesty and transparency at its core, where comfort and kindness comes second to it. But he knows that moments like these, his mind too wants him to soothe. To hold and cherish and perhaps let himself be a version who he never thought he could be.
A person loving enough to change priorities.
Yoongi looks back, maps it all in his mind to remember how it felt to be selfish, to have it all for a night.
To have the knowledge that this man would set himself ablaze to keep him warm; it should scare him. It only makes him want to encompass him safely in his arms.
Taehyung confesses to him every day, and it's become routine to brush his words away, drowning them all in words of wit and conversation of the day. But right now, to look at him and have his heartbeat right under his fingertips. Yoongi thinks it might be blasphemous to lie.
So he looks at him longer, in admiration of the man Taehyung is with him, and fascination by the emotions which his eyes reflect as each second ticks by without his answer.
And then he shakes his head, with a small smile on his face shuffles closer to the man whose body seems to have gained Nirvana from that simple gesture, and the precious weight of it.
"I thought you knew me well enough , looks like I'm a better actor than you, Mr. Baeksang winner."
"Some things, I'm sometimes…confused about."
"To have you, Yoongi, would be like a mirage come true." It fills him with unmatched emotions, tiny tears at the corner of his eyes when he hears Taehyung say these words.
He smiles back at him, unrestrained in his transparency and almost laughs at the hypocrisy he's living, for he knows he's the most selfish man in the world to take and take this love until he drains Taehyung.
But just these smiles are enough for the actor who has learned his heart by now, he knows.
For Taehyung leans in to run his nose along the length of Yoongi's neck, making him shiver. He tries to squirm away, but Taehyung has a strong hand around his waist.
"D-dior Sauvage.” He says with his voice, managing only a hoarse whisper. “Since you seem to like the cologne so much."
The wet sensation of a tongue follows, and Yoongi can't help but moan lowly. A hand slowly strokes down his back and lower, his palm warm against his ass. He reaches up to press his lips against his lover’s, and gasps softly when two fingers press against his rim.
"I only like it on you," Taehyung murmurs against his cheek and he melts right back into his arms when he enters him again.
**
Their new dynamic hasn't changed much, except for the kissing and sex and a willing and enthusiastic Yoongi who often initiates the former two.
So to say, there's quite a lot of changes. But there's still the same ease and comfort that existed between them and Taehyung loves it all. It's not a relationship yet, but it's well on its way to be, and it's much more than what he'd expected to come of their first time.
"Oh, you're still not gonna watch my show? I've done some really cool scenes. Since you love the thriller ones," he sheds his denim jacket on the opposite chair to slither beside Yoongi who makes a face at it.
Face illuminated by the screen, he doesn't even turn to glance at him. Simply hands the ready glass of water, even though Taehyung has never shown up to his house announced, he always seems ready to receive him.
"Isn't that the one in which you did a half naked shoot?" A raised eyebrow looks at him.
"Aren't you the guy from yesterday that licked off chocolate syrup from a full-naked me?" He dodges the pillow thrown at him and pounces to trap Yoongi on the couch. With both wrists pinned down, he leaves him no choice but to —"go on, beg me to release you." Yoongi just grins, then wraps both his legs around his middle and pushes him closer only to engage in a makeout session that lasts for more than ten minutes.
Post which he's unceremoniously kicked away, dazed and thoroughly satisfied.
“Wash up. Also I got you new lounge wear, it's in your drawer.” Another set of clothes that he'll wear down till ragged and will eventually be thrown away by Yoongi at an impromptu instance later.
Fresh and clothed, he winks at himself in the closet mirror before slinking back to the living room. A mental fist bump and pretending session ensues when Yoongi glances up at him from the couch, an appreciative up and down that he immediately catches on to and poses for.
“Yes yes, very arousing. The color caught my eye at the store…”
“You haven't looked up from my chest yet Yoongi, fancy a feel?” The other flushes and scoffs at the cocked brow.
“I didn't know it was that deep, hardly a cover up from the cold. Brands these days,” he huffs and shifts towards the arm of the couch. Taehyung quickly jumps onto the adjacent space, not even a breath away from him.
“Know exactly what the customers want,” he whispers with a smirk and motions ahead as if to kiss him, but quickly reaches to snatch the remote from Yoongi's hand instead.
Though his brilliant endeavour is unsuccessful, since his muse has always been better.
“Uh uh,” he jerks his hand away with a glare. “Jerk move. Just tell me what you want to watch, I'm not letting you put on Uncontrollably Fond again.”
To be honest, Taehyung doesn't mind watching anything, hell he'd even readily watch a crappy B-grade film if Yoongi wants to.
But if there's one wish that Taehyung would asks of him, it's to see his work illuminating the eyes of his muse.
“Then check out my new drama.”
"I didn't like your role in Glory, also the plot’s dissatisfying." Yoongi skips past it, stopping at the icon pop up with Uma Thurman. Taehyung smiles to himself and settles against his shoulder. It's hilarious how that whole week he had been congratulated by his management staff and peers on how the show had blown up all over the world and was being received so amazingly.
It had made him a little proud and smug, thinking how well it would appeal to Yoongi as well. He's a little hurt, yet again humbled by the fact that those numbers would mean nothing to Yoongi. It also makes him curious to wonder what exactly the show lacked or misappropriated to make Yoongi completely disinterested in even checking it out.
"This is how a perfect female-oriented vengeance plot can be shown." Is the only hint he gets, which makes Taehyung lean ahead to gauge the difference between the two better even though he's seen Kill Bill twice already.
Well, there's a lot of killing.
"It's like Salt,” Taehyung nods at the screen, and laughs at the dirty look thrown at him from the man beside. By the time the credits roll on, he's already sprawled over Yoongi. His head rests on the other's chest and he nuzzles closer, his eyes closed when the TV’s switched off.
A hand caresses wispy locks across his forehead, Taehyung could live here forever. He smells like the body wash he gave Yoongi on his twenty-second birthday.
“I have an ancestral sword like that, back in Daegu. This Halloween, get a bloody yellow tracksuit.” He mutters drowsily and loves the vibrations of Yoongi's giggles.
“Whatever you want.”