Chapter Text
The white smoke curls and twists, around and around and around, momentarily finding its place in the spaces between his fingers as it travels through the September sky. It’s a special kind of hazy, this one. The mixture of hard liquor and that one brand of cigarettes Namjoon only lets him have when he himself is too far gone to care. Numbing and revitalizing, all at once. Taehyung inhales again, lets it scorch his insides for a few moments, before letting it go.
The party looks different from out here, dimmed and blurry in the scarce seconds his exhale still lingers in the air. Something out of a surrealist’s wet dream. Coloured lights catching on undistinguishable surfaces as they move in slow circles, soft shadows dancing along. The music is dark and deep and rich, the bass of it finding its way into his chest even out here. The mass of bodies in the flat seems to move in some kind of sensual tandem, muffled laughter and voices nothing but an added layer to the song currently playing. Even the people sitting down, coyly twirling too expensive glasses of too expensive alcohol in their hands, appears to be swaying along to the voiceless melody.
The balcony he is occupying isn’t huge or exquisite like the flat it belongs to, but it comes with the advantage of two striking views. He drops the cigarette to the floor, and turns around to observe the second one, breath catching at the sheer vastness of the city below him. Skyscrapers merely nips at his feet where he stands. Taehyung wonders if he should feel small; insignificant in the face of something so enormous.
Wonders if he is wrong to feel bigger than ever.
He startles as a loud cackle cuts through the music and his musings. A laugh curls at the corners of his mouth, and he smiles a little into his drink. Trust Hoseok to always find a way to drag him out of his own mind, even without trying to do so. He doesn’t know why he had ever worried about bringing them along tonight. Sure, it wasn’t anything like the university dorm-parties they sometimes managed to talk him into, but his friends had always been adaptable. Namjoon already knew most of his other... ‘friends’, and was – if possible – even more in tune with the slightly snobby artsy crowd they belonged to than Taehyung himself. And Hoseok was pretty enough to be accepted almost everywhere, even before the dancer managed to let his profession drip of his tongue.
No, he had known they would be fine. It had been inviting the other two that caused these small tendrils of doubt to wrap around his consciousness. But Kyongsoo had told him to bring whomever he wanted - elated to be able to share his success with as many as possible, and Taehyung had done just that.
Yoongi, the newest addition to their small group, was a talented musician – and an even more talented producer – and his abilities were almost as intimidating as his demeanour. He should have known he would be fine, based on that alone. Although he should have realized that the man also hid some significant social skills under the initial layer of ice. He had managed to woe Hoseok after all, so there had to be something there Taehyung hadn’t been privy to see just yet. He turns back to the large windows separating him and the party, and spots the couple almost immediately. Yoongi has his arm wrapped delicately around the younger’s waist, a pleasant smile adorning his face as he nods along to something someone is saying. Yeah, there had been nothing to worry about there.
That just left...
“Hello stranger.”
Taehyung startles at the soft voice, back hitting the railing. He stares at the man in front of him with wide eyes. How lost had he been in his own head? Jimin smirks charmingly at his astonished expression, something Taehyung can’t place swirling in the striking grey of his eyes. He clears his throat, closing his mouth as soon as he realizes it had dropped open. His teeth clack together, and he hopes the music still leaking from the flat is loud enough to cover the embarrassing sound. The amused purse of Jimin’s lips tells him otherwise.
“Hi,” he says dumbly, and inwardly groans at the sudden departure of his eloquence. Jimin doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles knowingly at him and leans his back against the window. Waiting. Taehyung huffs out a sound somewhat resembling a chuckle and straightens up. Lets his expression melt into something he knows is attractive. The way Jimin’s gaze immediately drops to his lips lets him know he’s right. They have been playing this game for months now, dancing around each other, always interrupted before being able to collide. The steps are familiar, and it should feel weird, chasing each other like this. It doesn’t.
Jimin seems to share his sentiment.
“So,” The word is drawled out, an inevitable finality clinging to its letters. He makes a show of dragging his eyes along the expanse of Taehyung’s body. Down down down, and up again. The weight of it makes him swallow, something very close to pride settles in the pit of his stomach.
In the end, the lead-up is short and uneventful- a contrast to everything that came before. They have waited too long already, too much time already spent for them to care about the standardized stages of a usual one-night stand. Taehyung's body is still thrumming pleasantly from the alcohol when Jimin winds his arms around his neck, gently tugging him closer. He dips his head down, tilts his head slightly to brush their noses together. Jimin tightens his grip on his hair, tips his head up...
“Kiss me.” he whispers, and Taehyung’s eyes flutters closed at the feeling of his hot breath against his mouth.
And for the first time in his life, Taehyung feels actual fireworks erupt in his chest as his lips grazes another’s.
And then there’s just fire.
The pain is instantaneous, reaching every cell in his body so quickly he’s not even able to catch himself when his legs give out. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, and it burns, it burns it burns it burns it burns, and his mind is so garbled he’s not sure if the choked scream that cuts through the night is his own or Jimin’s.
He can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t move, and the agony continues to pulse through him, pushing and pulling at everything he is. Nothing makes sense, and something in his chest is trying to cut its way out, dragging Taehyung’s consciousness with it. He can feel the world around him fading. Or is it he himself that is dissolving?
He thinks he hears Yoongi’s voice, panicked curse words smudged along the edges of the all-consuming anguish.
And then
he passes out.