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The first time Taehyung saw The Boy With The Tattoos, it was 3am on a Saturday.
He was laying on his back on a bench in the laundromat, listening to the washing machine go through the spin cycle on his clothes. Saturday was laundry day, and early morning was the best time to do it because, excluding the first Saturday he saw The Boy With The Tattoos, he was usually the only one there. Taehyung enjoyed the time by himself to stare at the ceiling, play games on his phone, and ignore Jungkook’s text messages.
He nearly rolled off the bench in surprise when he heard the bell above the door of the laundromat jingle and saw someone walk in through his peripherals. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly because this was his time here, he didn’t want to share with anyone else. But as Taehyung sat up to glare at whoever it was that walked in, the breath left his chest when he took in a long-limbed boy with hair the color of grapes and tattoos crawling up his neck. At the sight, he purposefully rolled off the bench to hide behind the nearest dryer, because holy fuck, that was a pretty boy. He had one earbud in and Taehyung could hear the faint bump of music coming from the one that dangled near the boy’s shoulder. Hanging off the boy’s rather thin frame was possibly the ugliest sweater Taehyung had ever seen, stripes mixed with argyle and blocks of opposing colors. It was so big that the collar hung loose on one side of the boy’s neck, revealing more of the tattoos that disappeared under the fabric. Taehyung gulped.
The boy dropped the hamper he’d been dragging behind him on the floor and started sorting through the clothes, tossing them into the nearest open washer. Taehyung watched from his hiding spot behind the dryer, feeling slightly creepy but enjoying the view all the same. The boy removed his earbud suddenly and did something Taehyung didn’t expect: pulled his sweater off and tossed it into the machine as well. Without it to cover his torso, the rest of the boy’s tattoos were on display, covering nearly every inch of his exposed skin. Taehyung could see intricate geometric designs stained into the base of his neck, birds and flowers wrapped around his shoulders and arms, clouds and a particularly large dragon curling along the boy’s waist, just to name a few. Speaking of his waist, it sure was small, and Taehyung couldn’t help but imagine how it would look with his hands pressed into it. He shook his head faintly at the thought. Control yourself, Taehyung thought. No boners here.
The boy replaced his earbuds and pulled a chair up in front of the washing machine after dropping a few coins into it, his back to Taehyung. He bobbed his head faintly to whatever was playing in his ears, his shoulders hunched a bit so the ink on them stretched. Taehyung was mesmerized from where he sat, peering out from behind the dryer. He studied the boy’s back, the curve of his shoulders, the way the tattoos made certain parts of his skin reflect the fluorescent lights overhead. It looked smooth despite the ink, and Taehyung’s hands itched to touch it, bruise it. He shook himself again, mentally. It had been a few days since he got off last. Maybe he needed to go home and find Hoseok after his clothes were clean.
His clothes.
As he had the thought, his washer beeped, signaling that his clothes were done and ready to be dried. Taehyung brought a hand to his face. He was going to have to stand up and reveal himself, walk to the machine across the room that held his clothes, and transfer them to a dryer, all while being watched by an incredibly beautiful, shirtless boy that, up until now, had no idea he was here. Taehyung took a deep breath in, got to his feet, and made his way towards his clothes, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast.
If the boy saw Taehyung, he didn’t show it, because he kept his eyes trained on his phone. Taehyung hoped his sigh of relief was silent as he started moving his clothes into a dryer. He pressed start and stepped away, wandered around the room and stayed as far as he could from the boy. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder, no matter how much he wanted to.
When he heard the dryer beep, his heart skipped a beat, but when he went to fetch his clothes, he found the boy to be asleep in his chair. He looked peaceful for being asleep upright, music still blaring in his ears. Taehyung let his eyes wander the boy’s body, take in the tattoos one by one. There were so many, everywhere. He wondered how far they went.
He scolded himself for the third time that morning for being undeniably creepy and pulled his clothes out of the dryer, folding them half-heartedly, and making his way out of the laundromat. He was definitely going to ask Hoseok to take care of him when he got home.
~~~
The second time Taehyung saw the Boy With The Tattoos, it was the next Saturday at 3am.
He’d pulled a chair up to the dryer that held his clothes and was watching them spin. It was colors, which he didn’t wear a lot of. He had both earbuds in, bobbing his head mindlessly to whatever was playing. He didn’t hear the bell above the door jingle this time, but when he saw movement in his peripherals, he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the tall boy walking towards him. He tried to force air into his lungs and look normal, planting his feet on the tile floor and watching the boy as discreetly as he could.
He was wearing another oversized sweater, this one not as awful as the one from the week before; it was cream-colored with one baby blue sleeve and the other a powder pink. There were English letters on the front, ones that Taehyung could read but probably not tell you the meaning of. The boy made his way in Taehyung’s direction and he was sure his bones were going to turn to dust.
When the boy approached, Taehyung looked up at him briefly. They made eye contact and the boy nodded in greeting with a closed-lipped smile. Taehyung hadn’t gotten a very good look at his face before, and up close, he glowed, despite his tattoos and slightly hooded eyes. Taehyung was sure if he wore darker clothing and carried himself higher, the boy would be straight up scary. But his shoulders hunched a little as he walked, as if he was uncomfortable with being so tall, and the edges of his eyes crinkled as he offered Taehyung that small smile, dimples appearing suddenly, and Taehyung had never fallen so suddenly, so hard, for someone he’d never even spoken to.
Taehyung tore his eyes away and went back to studying his clothes in the dryer, watching the colors twist and turn and fall around each other. He was hyper-aware of the boy beside him tossing his laundry into the washer closest to him and, just like last time, pulling off the sweater he wore over his head and throwing it into the washer as well. Taehyung fought the urge to look sideways, instead focusing on how many minutes were left on the countdown until his clothes were dry. Fifteen. He wasn’t sure he could make it that long with the most gorgeous boy he’d ever seen standing next to him, shirtless, no less.
The Boy With The Tattoos took a seat at the bench right in front of his washer, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it with interest. They sat like that for a long time, Taehyung losing track of which songs were playing in his ears as he tried with all his might to keep his eyes forward. He could tell from where he sat that the boy had more tattoos on his chest, colors and designs that Taehyung couldn’t make out properly, and he was desperate to study them, run his fingertips over them.
He wasn’t sure how he made it, but the fifteen minutes passed and the dryer beeped loudly, letting him know his clothes were done. Despite the music in his ears, Taehyung nearly fell out of his chair at the sound, catching himself at the last second and getting to his feet quickly. He chewed on his bottom lip and dared a glance over at the boy, mortified to see him looking back, a smile quirking one side of his mouth. Taehyung chuckled nervously to himself, his face burning, and looked away. He put his phone and earbuds in his back pocket and got to work on taking his clothes out of the dryer and replacing them in his empty hamper. He felt the boy’s eyes on him the whole time, whether with amusement or interest, Taehyung couldn’t tell.
He normally stayed at the laundromat to fold his clothes, but with his ears still on fire from embarrassment, he was ready to go home and bury himself in his bed for the next twelve hours. When he’d gotten all of his clothes out of the dryer, he heaved his hamper over his shoulder, kicking the dryer door closed. He made his way past the boy to the front door, and when he passed, the boy lifted a hand in farewell. Taehyung saw vines wrapping around his wrist in dark black ink, flowers blooming in his palm. He waved with the hand not holding his hamper and offered a smile that the boy returned.
When Taehyung stepped outside, all he could hear was the lights on the laundromat sign cracking and the pounding of his heart.
~~~
The third time Taehyung saw the Boy With The Tattoos, it was the next Saturday at 3:30am.
Taehyung shuffled into the laundromat with his hamper over his shoulder, holding his phone against his ear with his free hand. Jungkook and Hoseok were high as fuck somewhere and Jungkook wouldn’t stop calling him, asking him if he would come see them and bring a pizza. He rolled his eyes, surveying the room briefly before seeing a familiar figure across the way wearing a bright yellow sweater that stood out against the otherwise colorless laundromat. Taehyung felt something similar to an arrow entering and exiting the left side of his chest. He was here.
“Taetae,” Jungkook was saying, and Taehyung could hear Hoseok’s voice in the background, slow and toned down. “I’m so hungry that I think I’m going to die.”
“Get hyung to buy you something, I’m busy,” Taehyung muttered, somehow finding it in him to make his way towards his usual washer and dryer, right next to the Boy With The Tattoos.
“No, I’m busy,” Jungkook retorted, suddenly breathless, and Taehyung rolled his eyes.
“I swear, if you’re on the phone with me with hyung balls deep in you again, Jungkook, I’m not talking to either of you for—”
“Yah, Taehyungie,” Hoseok’s voice came through the phone, tight and measured. “Don’t kinkshame me or I’ll tell everyone we know about the time you asked me to come on your face.”
Taehyung choked on a breath and let his hamper fall to the ground with a thump. “That was one time, hyung, and we were drunk.” He stuttered for more words for nearly ten seconds before hearing a moan on the other line, which led to him hang up immediately. He would have to put early morning calls on the already-long list of things from Jungkook to ignore.
Taehyung slowly became aware that he’d made it to his washer and dryer and, at the same time, to stand right in front of the Boy With The Tattoos, who was watching him.
“Ah, hi,” Taehyung choked out, slipping his phone hurriedly into his back pocket.
The boy smiled with his teeth, dimples appearing in the skin of his cheeks. “Morning,” he replied, and his voice was deep, sleepy, and Taehyung felt his skin catching fire. “Interesting phone conversation.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and Taehyung realized he’d probably heard every word he’d said to Jungkook and Hoseok on the phone.
“Oh god, yeah, that was my, um.” Taehyung brought a hand to his hair and pushed it backwards anxiously. “My friend—friends with benefits who are also… friends with benefits?” He mentally kicked himself.
“Sounds hot,” the boy replied with a glance at the washer in front of him, and Taehyung was certain he was going to die, right then and there.
There were a few moments of silence as Taehyung tried to get the blood moving from his dick to other parts of his body, like his heart, for instance, before the boy looked up at him from where he sat on his bench.
“You’re late this morning.”
Taehyung blinked, tilting his head to one side. “What?”
The boy smiled a little and checked his watch. “You’re late. Usually you’re here before me.”
Taehyung checked the clock at the back of the room and found the boy to be right; it was 3:35am, and Taehyung was usually at the laundromat at 3 or right before. He looked back and nodded. “I guess you’re right,” he said.
The Boy With The Tattoos leaned forward and extended a hand, the one with the vines and the flowers, to Taehyung. “I’m Namjoon,” he said.
Taehyung took his hand carefully, half expecting to feel the prick of rose thorns from his palm, but instead felt smooth, warm skin.
“Taehyung,” he said, too breathless for his own good.
“Taehyung,” Namjoon repeated with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”
The next ten minutes or so were spent in complete silence. Taehyung got to work shoving his laundry into the washer, fishing coins out of his pockets, and picking the settings on the machine. He watched as the door locked and the inside filled up with water. His heart was still racing from the exchange with Namjoon, and he hoped the other boy couldn’t tell. He’d refocused on his phone after Taehyung turned away, the yellow of his sweater contrasting with the ink on his skin beautifully. Taehyung had let his eyes linger on Namjoon’s neck for just a moment, on the designs and shapes that covered it. He pulled up his usual chair to watch the machine, leaning his elbows on his knees, hyperaware of Namjoon a few feet away on the bench.
When Taehyung’s clothes were well into being saturated inside the washer, he glanced sideways at Namjoon. “You’re not washing your sweater today?” he asked.
Namjoon took a handful of his own sweater and smiled. “This thing?” he asked.
Taehyung nodded.
“It’s new,” Namjoon said, almost sheepishly. “Fresh from the store so it’s clean.”
Taehyung admired it for a few moments; sunflower-yellow, crewneck, knitted tight but still too big on Namjoon, hanging from his frame. “I like it a lot,” Taehyung said, hoping his voice was steady. “Yellow is your color.”
Namjoon blushed immediately, his neck flushing pink. Taehyung watched with a strange satisfaction as the color travelled up his face to settle high on his cheekbones.
Pretty.
“Thanks,” Namjoon said quietly.
Taehyung mumbled a you’re welcome and went back to watching his clothes in the washer.
The rest of the morning passed without event. Taehyung’s clothes finished up washing and he transferred them to the dryer as Namjoon pulled his out of the dryer and began to fold them on a table nearby. When he’d finished up, he placed his folded clothes neatly in his hamper, in such a reverent way that Taehyung almost smiled. Namjoon was so gentle despite his looks; tall and tattooed, a furrowed brow most times, but had a soft, lilting voice with a smile made of light. Taehyung thought to himself that Namjoon was possibly the tallest, most beautiful walking contradiction he’d ever met.
Namjoon’s voice pulled him out of his head. “See you next weekend?”
Taehyung looked over to see Namjoon with his hamper under his arm, phone in one hand. He blinked a few times, letting Namjoon’s words sink in.
“Uh, y-yeah,” Taehyung said finally, feeling the words get caught in his throat. “3am?
Namjoon huffed out a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners a bit. “3am sharp.”
Taehyung watched Namjoon walk out of the laundromat and ran a hand through his hair.
“Fuck.”
~~~
The first time Taehyung kissed the Boy With The Tattoos, it was on a Saturday at 3:20am.
Namjoon arrived at the laundromat at almost the same time as Taehyung, 3:05am, to be exact. He walked in as Taehyung was emptying his clothes into the washer, earbuds in and head bobbing. This morning, he’d traded a sweater for a t-shirt tucked into his jeans and Taehyung had to bite his tongue at the sight. Namjoon was so lithe, so slender and long, and in the short sleeves, he could see the tattoos that littered the other boy’s forearms. A work of art, really, Taehyung had concluded.
“Right on time,” Namjoon joked, pulling an earbud out as he made eye contact with Taehyung. His dimples appeared and Taehyung swooned internally. God, he was so far gone for this boy.
“I’m a creature of schedule,” he replied with a shrug, shutting the washer door and turning it on.
Namjoon flashed him a tired smile and Taehyung returned it.
They shared the bench this time, watching their laundry spin in silence. It was a calming sound, Taehyung supposed; the rhythm of the machine, the sound of the water rushing. For a while, they sat like that, just listening. At one point, Taehyung stole a glance at Namjoon, who’d seemed to have spaced out watching the laundry churn. Taehyung’s eyes settled on two English words inked into the base of Namjoon’s neck, just above his shirt collar. He mouthed the words with his lips, tilting his head slightly in concentration and then frustration, because despite being able to read them, he didn’t know what they meant.
Namjoon refocused abruptly, turning to look back at Taehyung. In a flash of courage, Taehyung lifted two fingers to his own neck and tapped once. “What’s that say? On your neck?”
The other boy seemed confused for a moment, lifting a hand to his neck absently.
“It’s English, right?” Taehyung asked.
Namjoon registered the question and nodded. “Ah yeah, it is,” he said shyly. “It’s, uh…” He rubbed at the tattoo a bit, seeming hesitant to speak. “It’s instructions, I guess.”
Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows slightly, looking at the words again as Namjoon’s hand fell to his lap.
“Instructions?” Taehyung echoed.
Namjoon chuckled then, nodding again. “Yeah, instructions,” he said. “I put it there for anyone who could read it.”
Taehyung’s frustration grew at that, and he pouted slightly. “I can’t read it,” he said, dejected.
“I guess I could tell you what it says, in Korean,” Namjoon said slowly. “And you could follow the instructions. If you want.” His eyes grew round and calm as he looked at Taehyung, and Taehyung felt something in the air shift; it grew thick with expectation and something a little more electric. He raised his eyebrows and lifted a hand as if giving Namjoon permission to speak. The taller boy sucked on his bottom lip, hiding a smile.
“It says, kiss here in English,” he said at last, and Taehyung’s heart somersaulted in his chest.
“It—it really does?” he managed, and he sounded like such an idiot.
Namjoon laughed then, full and loud. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Taehyung,” he said.
Taehyung swallowed and dared to straddle the bench and scoot a little closer to Namjoon. He regarded the boy with some caution before lifting a finger to point to each of the letters as he spoke. “K-i-s-s h-e-r-e,” he spelled out, looking up slightly. Namjoon was nodding, eyes focused forward.
“That’s right,” he replied. He said the phrase in English and Taehyung noticed his accent was impeccable, but didn’t feel like asking why. All he could think about was how Namjoon had given him permission to follow those instructions, and now that he knew what they said, he couldn’t focus on much else.
“And I can do that… if I want?” Taehyung asked. He’d started whispering for some reason, as if speaking any louder would break whatever was in the air.
Namjoon nodded again, rolling his neck slightly. Taehyung’s brain short-circuited at the way his veins moved when he did that, how the ink in his skin shifted. “If you want.”
Taehyung clenched his jaw to keep himself quiet and moved forward a little more, so his chest touched Namjoon’s shoulder. He leaned forward, slow, until the tip of his nose bumped the side of the other boy’s neck, right above where the tattoo sat. Namjoon shivered and Taehyung found encouragement in the sound. He finally pressed his lips against Namjoon’s skin, chaste and delicate, and the sigh that escaped him was enough to have Taehyung shivering, too.
After one kiss, Taehyung pulled back with effort, his hands in fists on his lap. Namjoon had closed his eyes, and after a moment, he cracked them open to look at Taehyung sideways. “That’s it?” he murmured, his deep voice impossibly deeper, and something in Taehyung snapped. He leaned forward again, just as slow, and captured the words on Namjoon’s skin between his lips, let his tongue drag over them slowly. Namjoon tilted his head, exposing more of his neck for Taehyung. He took the invitation willingly, letting one hand drift to the other side of Namjoon’s body to cradle the opposite side of his neck, to pull him closer. A noise rumbled in the other boy’s throat, one Taehyung could feel against his mouth. It was almost a purr, like that of a satisfied leopard or lion. It ignited Taehyung’s limbs, made his stomach twist and burn, and he sunk his teeth into the skin of Namjoon’s neck, not hard enough to mark but with enough pressure to feel. A broken sigh escaped Namjoon’s mouth and Taehyung smoothed his tongue over the place he’d bitten, his thumb pressing the space behind Namjoon’s ear. He pulled away a bit, only enough so he could speak. His lips still ghosted over the other boy’s skin.
“You’re gorgeous,” Taehyung said quietly, and Namjoon rolled his neck again, impatient. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you.” He pressed another kiss to Namjoon’s neck. “How pretty you are with these tattoos.”
Namjoon tensed against him, the muscles in his arms taut as his hands gripped the seat of the bench tight. “Yeah?” he breathed, and Taehyung nodded, the tip of his nose brushing higher on Namjoon’s neck.
“Yeah,” Taehyung replied, dragging his bottom lip slowly over the skin. “Beautiful.”
A moan caught in the boy’s throat and the heat in Taehyung’s stomach flared hotter, egged him on. He let his mouth close down on Namjoon’s neck again, pulling at the flesh with his lips until he knew there would be a mark. Namjoon let a hand crawl to Taehyung’s thigh, rubbing his palm higher over his basketball shorts, fingers pulling at the fabric.
“Not as permanent as the ink,” Taehyung whispered against the mark, pulling on the collar of Namjoon’s shirt to kiss the skin beneath it. “But it’ll do for now.”
“You gonna kiss my mouth now?” Namjoon asked, and Taehyung leaned back slightly to study him.
“You have instructions for that, too?” he teased, and Namjoon lifted his chin with a kind of confidence Taehyung hadn’t seen from him yet.
The boy shifted so he straddled the bench facing Taehyung, lifting both hands to his mouth to pull down on his bottom lip. There was black ink on the skin inside, more English words that Taehyung couldn’t understand. But he recognized some of the letters, and when Namjoon removed his hands and let his lip fall back into place, he smirked.
“K-i-s-s m-e,” Namjoon spelled out, and Taehyung lifted a hand to tangle it in his faded purple hair. “Kiss me.”
Taehyung pulled Namjoon forward and kissed him hard, teeth and tongue with a growl behind his lips, and he was sure he had never tasted anything as sweet as the Boy With The Tattoos.