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you are buzzing when it happens the first time — the whole place reverberating with the heavy bass of some song, the effects of the pill you took half an hour ago hitting you like a million stars. there are entire constellations aligning inside you all at once, and then suddenly him. a black hole, mysterious and transcendental and hungry, earth’s entire gravitational field bending and breaking at his will, big, round eyes capturing a thousand colors and reflecting one — black, so black, it should scare you, really, you’ve never really liked the dark.
except it doesn’t scare you. would it make a difference, anyway? you remember you saw it somewhere — maybe it was in your fifth grade science book or maybe you’ve been a red giant like antares in your past life, luminous and bright and consumed by him, it, a black hole — whatever. the thing is, you saw it somewhere: nothing escapes a black hole. not even light, time, space. you.
the boy is smiling and his skin is golden and glistening and you know you like knowing things — you like knowing resisting is pointless and you like knowing he’s been looking at you for the past ten minutes (or were they hours?) and you’re itching to know what his muffled moans feel like with your tongue against his throat.
it’s your event horizon, anyway. all paths are only going to bring you closer and closer and closer to the black hole. you’re past the point of no return and you know it, fuck light and time and space. you’ve never seen much use in fighting the inevitable anyway, and so many things are inevitable, why the fuck would you start now?
jimin’s laugh rings in your ear and his fingers are clutching your wrist and when he whispers against your neck “he’s like the purest thing that’s ever stepped in here, can you see that?” you want to say no, you can’t fucking see that, you can’t see shit — all you can do is feel, and you brush him away. you hear him say “i guess we’re not in the sharing mood today” before disappearing through the sea of bodies around you and good fucking riddance. you can’t talk to park jimin when there are entire galaxies waiting to disappear in that darkness.
he’s biting his lip when you get to the last spacetime boundary, but he smiles at you as you approach him, stupidly bright for a black hole. you may or may not have said something, anything, but you remember his voice — deep and thick and losing itself in between the music playing and all the muffled voices around him, everything feels muffled around him, and when big eyes focus lazily on your mouth, all you can feel is the pull.
it’s not your fault, really, but you’ve always been curious and they say at the center of every black hole there’s this thing called singularity — the point where time and space bend forever and the curvature become infinite. you want to find it, you need to feel it.
so when your orbit merges with his pull, lightweight limbs entangling and intertwining to the beat of a song you can barely hear, it is inevitable, unavoidable. your hand finds purchase in the back of his neck, and his smile is tiny and sweet when you cover it with your lips, nothing but a brush of lips until it’s more, until you’re licking into his mouth and he’s pulling you in with his body with the force of entire fucking gravitational fields: arms over your shoulder, thigh pushing between your legs, tongue challenging yours relentlessly until everything is unbearably hot, so hot—
“shit,” he says, pulling away, and the way he licks his lips still staring at you has your legs weak, bottom of your stomach dropping out, “—shit.”
the buzz in your head fades out when you take a deep breath, and, yeah, now you can see what jimin meant when he said that he was the purest thing. you couldn’t pinpoint what, but there was something in him that just screamed innocence — the singularity you’ve been desperately looking for — and no, you definitely weren’t in the mood for sharing.
“hi,” you say, and you feel yourself smiling and his arms are still around your neck and fuck this boy is so gorgeous you’d normally have no idea how you ended up with him when you couldn’t even see straight — except you knew. you’re not even tripping anymore and he’s still pulling you in like it’s never enough, never enough.
(it’s a black hole, how could you be enough?)
“hey,” he says back, breathless and leaning into your mouth again, “—i’m not gonna stop kissing you anytime soon.”
“mhm,” you hum in agreement, kissing him slower and slower and it’s a good thing time doesn’t run the same inside black holes. he moans into your mouth and the vibration ripples all the way down to your body, goddamn that infinite gravity thing or whatever, “i’m hoseok.”
“hoseok,” he repeats, and you like the way your name rolls off his tongue far too much, but you brush it off as he smiles, lips trailing down to trace kisses against your neck, “—i’m taehyung.”
you really hope he can never have enough, though.