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"I don't even know," Jungkook mused, propping a grape into his mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. "Does he think he's being subtle?"
"Just how subtle can you be with a camera that noisy?" his friend, Yoongi, snorted. "He's full on taking a photo shoot, Jeon," he mocked the younger, smirk tugging at his lips. It complimented the dark of his eyes and hair, that dark expression. "You have a not-so-secret admirer."
"I'm not sure if it bothers me anymore," Jungkook mumbled. It had been so long since he'd noticed the other man taking pictures of him, sometimes trailing not so far behind as he walked around campus -- whether he was headed for class or just roaming around for a comfortable place to sit and eat his lunch. The man's camera was familiar to Jungkook now, its faint 'click' engraved into his head in a way that he no longer twitched when his ears registered the noise.
Yoongi followed his gaze to his right -- Jungkook's left since he was sitting across from the elder on the bench. He hummed, pout decorating his plump lips. "I gotta admit, I'm growing fond of the kid."
"Huh," Jungkook began, "he is quite quirky."
The man must have noticed them noticing him, for he lowered his camera and cocked his head to the side, as if curious as to why they would ever look his way, whether accidental or not. Which was stupid, in all honesty, because, although Jungkook hadn't ever seen the other man around before he'd become conscious of his constant stalking, now that he was aware of him, it was impossible not to look each time he got the chance.
He was just so different, for starters, peculiar. Extravagant. His choice of clothing was only one aspect that led Jungkook to believe that, however. Despite the other man's favoritism for sheer shirts and dad jeans, all topped off by a pair of platform shoes, it was the way he carried himself that had Jungkook thinking of him as nothing other than queer. He just walked so gracefully, long legs confident in their stride and chin held high. He walked as if he knew how strange he was, and embraced it, was proud of it.
Needless to say, Jungkook had sprouted some curiosity for the man behind the camera lens.
"That's one way to put it," Yoongi commented, yanking Jungkook out of his thoughts but not startling him enough to look away from the other man. Jungkook watched as he slowly rose the camera back up to eye level. He stared directly at the lense the best he could from this far away -- a few feet apart from the tree the man was leaning against.
When the man lowered the camera once again, he was smiling. His eyes met Jungkook's, and for a moment, the latter felt his cheeks go warm at the amusement in the other man's gaze.
He looked away and planted his hands on the wooden table, standing up. "Shall we go, then?"
Sometimes Jungkook wondered if he should just confront him about it. Walk up to him and straight up demand he tell him why the fuck he's been following him around campus for the past month or so, taking pictures of him. Did he know he was being rude? Intrusive, perhaps?
Jungkook really would not have minded it if he'd been asked for permission -- really, he would most likely have said yes. Most likely.
But the thing was Jungkook did not mind it one bit, that he hadn't been asked. He sort of selfishly enjoyed the attention he was being given. It was just a subtle feeling of importance that he felt when he heard that 'click' go off somewhere behind him, somewhere to his left, his right. He felt recognized, and it was doing nice things for his confidence.
It was also making him extremely self-conscious.
What if the man had taken a picture of him mid-sneeze? While he had blinked? While he'd been yawning? Laughing? (He knew his nose scrunched up and his eyes vanished when he laughed, and that his front teeth jutted out so he morphed into this horrifying bunny/human mutant that haunted youngling's nightmares.)
He just hoped the man had a kind heart, a merciful one, and that if he had managed to snap said pictures of him in such embarrassing ways, he'd have the decency to delete them.
Jungkook could only pray.
"Does he even have any friends?" Yoongi asked to his right. He was stuck under the arm of another young man, dark haired, pointy nosed and bright smiled. Jung Hoseok. The bane of his existence.
"I'd befriend him," Hoseok confessed, staring off at the man in question. He was crouching down on the sidewalk -- once again, a few feet away from them -- taking pictures of the small yellow and white daisies that had been planted to the sides. Jungkook watched him reach for one of the small flowers and cup it with his palm before snapping a picture. He let go of it delicately, thumb brushing over one of the petals.
"I like his jeans," Hoseok said, smirking. He pinched Yoongi's cheek playfully, cocking his head at him. "They're stylish, don't you think?"
The man was wearing a pair of skinny jeans today -- it was the first time Jungkook had seen him wear something other than baggy vintage jeans. Jungkook was only mildly surprised to find that the shape of his legs was quite enticing. Thick thighs that curved up nicely at his hips. Which were on display today, since the long sleeved shirt he chose to wear was cropped so it barely fell down to the top of the jeans -- which were high waisted, yes, and embroidered with bright red roses and (surprise, surprise) daisies.
They were stylish. Jungkook told himself that was why he kept on staring at the man's legs as he stood up, hooked the camera's strap over his neck and let it hang there. Just admiring the craftsmanship of the embroidery, of course -- not that he could fucking see it from this far away -- totally not checking him out in that long sleeved sheer top and skinny jeans.
Yoongi squirmed away from Hoseok's prodding fingers. "Well that's one hypothetical friend, then," he said.
In truth, Yoongi was right. They'd never seen the man roaming around with anybody else. He'd always followed Jungkook on his own. And even when he wasn't, when Jungkook had casually walked around campus and just so happened to glance to his right to find his gaze landing on an all too familiar man, said man was always on his own.
But perhaps today was when the man decided to surprise Jungkook in every way he could. First the skinny jeans, and now, there was a man making his way toward him. He was shorter than Camera Boy (nickname courtesy of Jung Hoseok), his hair a shade or two darker than his -- nearly pitch black like Jungkook's -- and he greeted the man with a grin and a backwards hug.
"Or... two hypothetical friends..." Yoongi suggested.
"Hypothetical?"
"Well, yes, he could be his partner, Jeon," Yoongi shrugged easily, "This is the 21st century after all."
Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at the two men. The way they leaned into each others' space was easy, friendly. They smiled at each other in the way childhood friends did, with a glint to their eyes and a fondness to their lips. But it was just that -- friendly. Touchy, but friendly. "I don't think so, hyung."
"You don't think so, or you hope so, Jungkookie?" Hoseok hummed. Jungkook did not like the mischief that bounced in his irises.
He had to admit it was a little bit of both. Although the position of the shorter man's hands on the other man's hips was lingering, Jungkook had a hard time believing it was meant to be intimate in a sensual way. Even less a sexual one. The way he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of the taller man's jeans and pulled him back against his chest made Jungkook stutter, however. So did the blush on Camera Boy's cheeks.
"Who would have known," Yoongi snickered, "Even stalkers are unfaithful at times."
Jungkook glared at him. "It is none of my business who he sleeps with," he shrugged, "or whether he sleeps with anyone at all."
Hoseok seemed amused by his answer. He stared off at the two men and smiled, as if he knew something the Yoongi and Jungkook did not. "That's a mature response, Gukkie."
"I am a mature young man," Jungkook responded arrogantly. He tore his gaze from the other two men and shoved the idea of them being in a romantic relationship far, far down the deepest corners of his brain. He stepped forward in line, since their time waiting was up and they had to order something to eat. That was why they were here after all.
The cafeteria was a small place, a tiny shack with a few plastic tables -- of those metallic ones that made them look more expensive than they probably were -- scattered around it for its customers to sit and eat in. There was a translucent canopy providing shade, although shade was not really necessary this time of the year. The sun barely came out nowadays, the clouds not giving it the opportunity to shine a bit of its light on the earth. It was the beginning of a chilly autumn; it had been brewing for the past few weeks.
Campus’ green life had not started to wither yet, but Jungkook knew the trees would eventually begin to shed their leaves and the flowers would be void of any petals.
Maybe that's why the man had been taking pictures of the daisies, Jungkook mused, to have a reminder of them blooming once the time of their death comes.
Jungkook decided to treat his hyungs for once, just because.
With their respective trays in hand, they walk over to one of the empty tables in the far right corner. This one so happened to be poised right next to the table where Camera Boy was sitting in, smiling at the smaller man across from him while his camera rested idly on the centre of the shiny table.
Hoseok smirked as he waved a hand in front of himself, encouraging Jungkook to take a seat. Which the younger did, eyes narrowed into slits throughout his descent on the plastic chair. The tray slipped easily onto the table, so easily that Jungkook nearly sent it flying across it when he heard Hoseok being addressed by the men in the table next to them.
"Hey!" one of them cheerfully greeted, and Jungkook glanced up to find that it had been the small man sitting across from Camera Boy who had spoken up. He had a nice smile, a contagious one; it was on full display as he lifted a hand to point at Hoseok. "You're in my dance class, right?" He snapped his fingers for a moment, as if struggling to recall Hoseok's name, before he blurted it out. "Jung Hoseok"
"Park Jimin?" Hoseok smirked at the small man, all while nodding.
"Yeah, yeah!" the man, apparently Park Jimin, responded. The fact that Hoseok had recognized him seemed to light his whole face up even further. "Yeah, that's me."
Jungkook regretted having treated Hoseok. And Yoongi. The man was laughing into his hand, mocking.
"You're amazing, Hoseok-ssi!" Jimin went on, "I love the way you dance."
"Thanks!" Hoseok chuckled, amused and shy at the sudden praise. "You're very good too, Jimin-ssi." Jungkook did not miss the way Hoseok's gaze flew to the other man sitting on the table, almost right next to where Hoseok was standing. He could only imagine what his hyung was thinking of doing.
Jimin must have noticed his sideways glance at his companion, for he smirked and waved a hand to gesture at him. "This is my best friend, Taehyung."
Camera Boy looked up at Hoseok with a smile, waved a large hand up at him. As he did, Jungkook noticed an earring dangling from his left earlobe. He also got a close up view of what his face truly looked like. Having only been able to catch faraway glimpses of the man's face from behind a camera, often times a few feet away, his physical appearance had been pretty much a mystery to Jungkook.
Camera Boy -- Taehyung -- had a long nose that ended in a rounded tip, had full lips that Jungkook uselessly found to be chapped, and a pair of fox-like eyes, rimmed with cyan eyeliner and coupled up with light glittery eyeshadow that seemed to be of reddish orange hue. His cheekbones were framed by long, wavy strands of light, ashy brown hair that was rowdy where it rested atop his head.
He was fucking beautiful, and Jungkook had a hard time coming to terms with that.
"Hello, Hoseok-ssi," he mumbled politely. Hoseok's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He glanced at Jungkook from over his shoulder and winked. The younger nearly flipped him off, but froze midway.
"Ah, 'hyung' is fine for you to call me," he said cheekily at the two other men. They did seem younger than him, perhaps more about Jungkook's age, but then Jimin mentioned he had class with Hoseok... "I have a feeling we will see each other more often."
And then he sat down, as if none of that dialogue had been exchanged.
Jungkook was tempted to glare at Hoseok throughout the whole of their lunch, but the weight of somebody else's gaze on him made it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on doing so. He shifted his head to the left a mere centimeter, and caught the pair of hazel eyes that were boring down the side of his face.
It was Taehyung, peeking at him curiously from his seat. Upon noticing Jungkook had caught him staring, more than likely noticing Jungkook had recognized him the way Taehyung had recognized him, he smirked. He didn't look the slightest bit ashamed that Jungkook knew it was him who'd been snapping shots of him for the past month or so. Rather, he seemed smug about it. Like he was glad Jungkook now knew his name.
They locked eyes for a moment longer before Taehyung looked away, his cocky smirk never leaving his lips.
Jungkook ignored the deep stirring of his gut and dug into his sandwich.
And if he chewed on it a bit too angrily, well, that wasn't for anyone to know.
"Taehyung's in Joonie's photography class," Yoongi told him one day, a week or so after they got to know Jungkook's stalker's true name. They were lounging on the couch of their shared apartment, Yoongi's feet propped up on the younger man's lap. Jungkook entertained himself by playing with his hyung's socks. He pulled on the fabric near his toes, leaving it stretched out over Yoongi's big toe before tugging it back to place.
"Joonie's studying photography?" Jungkook asked. Yoongi made a humming noise the younger guessed was a yes. "Wasn’t he studying philosophy or some shit like that?"
“He is,” Yoongi nodded, head tipping to the side as one of his hands slipped under his shirt and sprawled itself over his stomach. “Idiot’s taking a double major.”
“Ah.” It dawned on Jungkook then why the older male was always teetering on the verge of insanity. “Figured as much, the man's a walking existential crisis.”
"Tell me about it," Yoongi groaned, "It's rubbing off on Hobi. He talked my ear off about whether the sky is truly blue or not the other day."
Jungkook chuckled, mildly amused. Then he remembered the initial comment Yoongi had made and frowned. "Why does that matter to me?"
"That Taehyung has class with Namjoon?" Yoongi shrugged. "I don't know," he said, sounding too much like he knew but simply did not want to say.
Jungkook rolled his eyes. Being the youngest amongst his friends, he was always the one they were all bossing over, leaving in the dark. It was annoying, to say the least, but Jungkook supposed he really couldn't whine too much. His hyungs were the best friends he'd ever had in his life.
They were accepting and loving and caring, despite having been through many hardships of their own. They were all strong men, yes, but never rough or cold. If anything, they always approached things with gentle hands and an open mind.
Jungkook loved them very, very much.
Times like these, though, he doubted why he did so.
"Oh, don't you, now?" Jungkook drawled, opting to pull on Yoongi's socks again. This time he yanked the sock off entirely though, sent it flying over his shoulder. He reached for the other sock, but Yoongi tucked his feet under Jungkook's thighs instead.
"I know nothing with certainty, Guk," Yoongi teased, smile lazy.
"What do you think you know, then?"
"I think you would want to ask Taehyung why he has been taking pictures of you for so long. And why he didn't ask your permission for it."
Jungkook sighed. He didn't really want to do that. It seemed pointless to do so after this long of keeping silent. In reality, he figured it was Taehyung's business and Taehyung's business only. Maybe it was just for a class project -- though he probably would have stopped once he'd turned the project in, or once again, he would have asked for fucking permission to use him as his final project for Photography.
It had been going for so long that Jungkook did not have a care for it anymore. Like Yoongi, he'd grown quite fond of the guy.
"Or..."
"Or?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at his older friend.
Yoongi smirked. "Or, maybe you'd just want to ask him out, get to know him."
"You want me to pursue my 'unfaithful stalker'?"
"Come on," Yoongi scoffed, wiggling his toes and nudging the bottom of Jungkook's thighs as he did. "Jimin introduced him as his best friend, don't you remember?"
"You remember the guy's name."
"He had a pretty face, I tend to remember the names of people with pretty faces." Jungkook shook his head in amusement. "Besides the fact that Hoseok is entirely smitten with the boy. That's another thing he won't shut up about." Yoongi sat up straighter on the sofa, moved his feet away from Jungkook's legs and flung them to the side of the sofa to stand up. "But that's not my point."
"Which is it then?" Jungkook followed him with his eyes, head propped against the backrest of the couch in a way that left his throat exposed. Yoongi was walking around the couch and crouched behind it, presumably lifting the sock Jungkook had thrown earlier. Jungkook’s suspicions were proven to be true when Yoongi whacked him across the face with the thing.
"My point is that if you like the guy, go for it. He probably likes you too."
Jungkook stared off at his retreating back, his eyes closing at the noise of Yoongi's door shutting closed. He pouted. He wouldn't say he liked Taehyung. The man was attractive, sure, and there was something about him that made Jungkook immensely curious, like a child.
He just didn't know him. But maybe if he did...
Jungkook's eyes fluttered open. He sighed.
Did he want to get to know Taehyung?
He sat up, leaned his weight forward by placing his elbows on his knees. Pursing his lips, he figured that maybe he did.
Amongst his hyungs -- whom Jungkook got to know not long after they'd met had grown up together -- sexuality was not that big of a deal. Jungkook was glad to find in them a safe haven, a place where he could speak about anyone in a romantical way and it would not be frowned upon or questioned, where he could use sweet and flowery perfumes and not be considered feminine. For his hyungs, all that mattered was that you loved someone and they loved you back.
Jungkook thought this acceptance was most likely due to the fact that the three of them were sexually ambiguous themselves, but then again, Jungkook did not know shit about shit.
It was also none of his damn business, Jungkook told himself over and over again, despite knowing deep down that all he wanted was for his hyungs to know that he would not mind it one bit who they each chose to love.
Then again, Jungkook's judgement may be clouded by the fact that he has a minor, insignificant, barely even there crush on another man. But Jungkook knows shit about shit, so.
He just wanted to know whether it was a matter of trust, that kept these two men in this nebulous bubble when behaving in front of him, or if that was simply the way it was between them.
Considering how utterly oblivious Namjoon could be at times, Jungkook would not be surprised one bit, in all honesty, but he could see that the glint in Hoseok's eyes was a bit too warm and too sweet, and he could see that Namjoon's touch sometimes lingered for a moment too long on Hoseok's skin.
And it was, frankly, driving Jungkook insane. This not-really-knowing. The ever present voice in the back of his head assuring that he was simply assuming things.
Jungkook was a man that dealt with facts. He liked his facts sprawled out on the table. None of that beating around the bush nonsense. Despite this, however, he could never bring himself to straight up ask what was up. It just wasn’t his place to ask such a thing, no matter how long they have all been friends. These were the type of things that were not to be hurried or forced. He’ll be told if Namjoon and Hoseok (and Yoongi) wanted to tell him, and if they didn’t, well, he’ll have to live with the doubt for the rest of his life.
And it was okay. It was alright. It was none of his business.
Namjoon was humming something partially unintelligible under his breath -- perhaps the lyrics of a song, or perhaps he was simply reading out the contents in the coffee shop’s menu. The man’s chin was tipped up at the chalkboards hung up from the ceiling, the angle making the line of his jaw more prominent. Jungkook caught Hoseok glancing sideways at him, bottom lip caught in his teeth.
It all happened in front of Jungkook's eyes, in the midst of the line for the only coffee shop on campus grounds, amongst many other spectators. Jungkook saw it happen, saw the remaining bits of self-control as they left Hoseok’s body, went out the door with no intention of coming back anytime soon.
Jungkook held his breath, because that’s all he was able to do as he watched Hoseok take the leftover step between him and Namjoon, rise up on the tip of his toes, and plant a kiss to Namjoon’s exposed throat.
Namjoon had an indescribable expression -- surprised, maybe, afraid, ashamed? It was somewhere between stoic and agitated; his features were unmoving but his eyes were everywhere as Hoseok hooked his chin on his shoulder, one of his hands poised over his bicep while the other curled around his waist, sneaked under the fabric of his shirt in order to touch his skin.
The taller male looked mildly uncomfortable. His tensed up shoulders were evident from miles away, but even then, he did not push Hoseok away. He simply stood there, frozen.
Jungkook heard someone behind them clear their throat. He turned and found a girl frowning deeply at his two friends, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Jungkook had an idea of the things that were going through her head at the moment.
They’re brothers that get along real well. Or close friends. Very close friends. They can’t be… Jungkook got the honour to witness the abrupt change in the girl’s expression when it dawned on her. ...they can’t be gay can they?
Hoseok chose that precise moment to press his lips to Namjoon’s shoulder. A kiss -- even through the fabric of the latter’s shirt.
The girl’s lip curled upward -- and for a moment Jungkook had the ominous, dreadful feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong -- but the girl simply smiled. She smiled. Her eyebrows shot up in a countenance of delighted surprise, and Jungkook exhaled a relieved sigh as he reverted his attention back to his older friends.
The youngest of the three was delighted to see Namjoon finally breaking out of whatever spell he had been on for the past minute. The tall man pulled Hoseok's hand closer to himself, brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Mumbled against Hoseok's knuckles were his following words, “What would you like?”
"The usual," Hoseok chuckled, eyes twinkling happily. Jungkook wondered, a bit sadly, is he’d been waiting for Namjoon to respond to his touch like this for too long. If he’d been waiting so long for Namjoon to be brave enough to do something like this in front of the public eye.
“Pineapple tea?” Namjoon checked, and Hoseok nodded. He shifted so as to move away, but Namjoon draped an arm around his shoulders and kept him close to his side.
Hoseok would not stop grinning for the rest of their wait in line. His dimples were on full display for the next fifteen minutes, remained even as Jungkook addressed the cashier to take their order.
His voice faltered upon noticing who was behind the counter.
"Hey, what would you like to-- oh."
The cashier's vulnerability lasted only a second, much to Jungkook's chagrin, and then the man was greeting Jungkook with a bright smile and teasing eyes.
Jungkook cursed the world, he cursed destiny and fate and all the things of the like. He cursed the clouds and the sun and the moon and the stars, he cursed fucking Jupiter and Mars and Pluto.
Couldn’t he enjoy himself? Couldn’t he have basked in the lack of homophobia his friends received just now for acting the homo-est Jungkook had seen them act in public? Was it too demanding of him to want to be able to enjoy the small good things in life for once?
Faintly, he heard Hoseok snickering behind him, but he paid it no mind.
His fingernails scratched the wood of the counter as glared daggers, swords, arrows at the name tag clipped to the cashier's left pectoral.
Kim Taehyung.
"Sir, how may I help you?"
Jungkook looked up, tried to shed his gaze of any possible hatred, and smiled. "Uhh can I have an Americano, please? And two Caramel Macchiatos." Hoseok hated Caramel Macchiatos, but Namjoon loved them. It was Jungkook's subtle way of saying fuck you, Jung Hoseok.
It was fruitless, since Hoseok reached forward to whack him upside the head, annoyed at the way he’d pettily changed his order. He addressed Taehyung with a gentle smile on his lips, and asked him if he could please make one of those macchiatos a pineapple tea. “Jungkook here made a mistake,” he hissed at the younger.
"Sure thing," cashier Kim Tae-fucking-hyung said, grinning; the way his eyebrows twitched upwards gave an indication that he took a mental note of Jungkook’s name. His gaze flickered to Hoseok as he was pulled back against Namjoon’s chest, but his face did not change its expression, even as he turned those amused hazel eyes back to Jungkook. "Would you like me to add sugar to the Americano?"
"No," Jungkook responded with a shake of his head, “Add vanilla to it, please.” He enjoyed the faint bitterness that an Americano left on his tongue, but often times it was too much. And he was never truly a fan of sweet things, unlike Namjoon, who would most likely add five extra bags of sugar to his already sweetened Caramel Macchiato. A touch of vanilla to his Americano was the go-to. The middle ground he always settled for.
"Vanilla?" Taehyung echoed, his tone indicating no client had ever suggested that before. "How does a Vanilla Americano taste like?"
"Bittersweet," Jungkook mused, "A bit more bitter than sweet."
"I'd have to try it sometime, then," Taehyung considered as he typed something into the machine in front of him. He told him the price, which Jungkook easily paid for, and then Taehyung was ripping the receipt from the printer to his left and handing it over to Jungkook along with his change.
"Thanks," he mumbled, receiving a faint 'mhmm' in return.
Jungkook could not help but watch Taehyung as he prepared the coffees, entranced. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could see the muscles of his back moving while he worked. Jungkook diverted his gaze, moistening his lips.can
Fuck, okay, yeah. Maybe he did like Taehyung a bit. (The man was handsome, and Jungkook was only human.)
A pair of hands fell on his shoulders, pulling him straight. He heard Hoseok's voice right next to his ear, encouraging. "Ask him out."
"What?" Jungkook whisper-yelled back at him, sneaking a glance at Taehyung to make sure he wasn't aware of their conversation. "No."
“His number, then,” Hoseok shook him by the shoulders, frustrated. Jungkook reached behind himself to pinch Hoseok's side. The older man let go, squealing.
"Here you go," Taehyung drawled, voice muffled as he nudged a box with two coffee cups in its cup holders. In his mouth, held between his teeth, was a blue Sharpie marker; he took it out, uncapping it and biting down on the cap all the while he scribbled something to the side of the remaining cup of coffee. When he handed it over to Jungkook, the younger came to realize that it was his Vanilla Americano the one Taehyung had written something on.
"Have a nice day," Taehyung winked at him with a small wave of his hand, and Jungkook pretended not to notice the flushing of his cheeks as they walked out of the place.
Turned out Jungkook didn’t have to ask Taehyung for his number. The man had scribbled it on the side of his cup of coffee in bright blue Sharpie ink.
"If you don't fucking ask him out right this moment, Jeon, I will personally walk over and do it myself." Min Yoongi threatened, his 5 feet 7 inches towering over Jungkook in the most menacing way possible.
In another lifetime, Jungkook would have cowered under his shadow, but now, now that he knew Yoongi slept in his own oversized sweaters and fuzzy yellow socks, he couldn't do anything other that smile up fondly at the elder. "I'd love to see that, actually."
"Don't test me, you punk," Yoongi flicked his forehead. Jungkook hissed. "I know he gave you his number, and if you weren't interested in him at all, you would have already thrown away that fucking cup of coffee on your bedside table, but you haven't." Jungkook flushed pink in embarrassment.
"I'm--"
"No," Yoongi plopped down on the grass next to him. There were no available benches today, so they were forced to sit on the moist grass. Jungkook's ass was starting to get wet, but he hoped his large sweatshirt would cover up the patch once he stood up. "Nothing. What the heck is holding you back?"
Jungkook pouted down at the sandwich in his hands. He hadn't even taken a bite of it yet; his stomach hadn't been too keen on receiving food ever since yesterday afternoon, ever since he got home, numb lipped and with shaky fingers, a styrofoam cup in his hands, empty. On its side, a series of digits were scribbled in bright blue ink.
Jungkook had stared at the coffee cup for a solid hour, mentally debating on whether to call or not. Eventually sleep got the best of him, so he curled up into a ball under his thick blankets, and let his body go unconscious.
"Stop looking so sullen, Gukkie," Yoongi scolded, but his voice was soft, worried. He placed a hand on Jungkook's knee and squeezed. He waited to see if Jungkook would answer his previous question, but he never did. The older man sighed, moved to sit closer to his side and pulled him by the shoulders so he sagged against his hyung. "What is it, baby?"
Jungkook would have found the pet name funny if it were used under different circumstances, but it was never used under different circumstances. Yoongi called him by his name, and if not, a shortened version of it -- Guk, Gukkie, Jeon -- but never babe, baby, love. None of that. It seemed he reserved them for when his friends needed them the most. Like right now, maybe.
The younger allowed Yoongi to scratch his fingernails against his scalp affectionately, exhaled a sigh at the sensation. Yoongi's silence gave him time to arrange his thoughts before he spoke. Before he even got the chance to open his mouth to speak, though, at the precise moment that he'd raised his head to glance up at Yoongi, he heard that familiar 'click' going off to his left.
His head whipped toward the noise. This time, as the camera was lowered, Jungkook knew the name of its owner. He pondered whether he should go over and finally confront Taehyung about it. Their eyes were locked. Taehyung wasn't looking away, and his lips were set in a thin line, a heaviness to his gaze Jungkook did not know the reason behind.
He could just as easily get up and walk the ten step stride it'll probably take him to get to where the other man was standing.
Jungkook bit down on his lip.
Yoongi's voice next to his ear voiced everything he had intended to say before. "I know it's not nerves," he said, "I know it's not that you don't like him. If your hesitation has something to do with somebody hurting you in the past, you have to know Taehyung isn't whoever that person was, Guk. You have to get that rotten idea out of your head, or you're never going to find someone else." Yoongi squeezed his shoulder, leaned in close to plant a kiss to his temple, and whispered finally, "Go, give him a chance."
It was the last straw Jungkook had needed.
He shifted forward, brought himself up with the help of his hands against the wet soil, and headed towards Taehyung.
Seven steps. That's all it took Jungkook to stand at arm's length away from the other.
He swallowed the bile that threatened to crawl its way up his throat, and grew a pair.
Jungkook could have told him he'd seen as he'd taken a picture. He could have asked him why he had done so. He could have asked him why the hell he hadn't ever thought of asking for goddamn permission. Maybe call him out on his nosiness. On his intrusion, his invasion of privacy.
"Could I see the picture?" was what he asked instead.
It hadn't been what Taehyung had expected to come out of his mouth either, if the way his eyebrows flung up high into his forehead was of any indication. But the man quickly recovered, and, with the hint of a smile, he stepped closer to Jungkook so he could see the picture displayed on the screen of his professional camera.
The object was sleek and elegant -- black and silver. A bit less extravagant than what he'd pictured everything of Taehyung's belonging to look like. Not as particular as its owner.
Jungkook tried not to pay much attention to Taehyung's proximity and focused on the image being presented to him instead.
It was... quite a beautiful picture. The shot was taken from a subtle side angle, and from this point of view, Jungkook's jawline was well defined as he'd tipped his chin up towards Yoongi. In the photo, the elder was gazing down at him fondly, worry pursing his lips in a pout. His long fingers had been threaded in Jungkook's strands of hair still.
If anyone would have seen this picture, with no context or any idea of who Yoongi and Jungkook were, they would most likely assume they were a couple.
Heck, that's what Jungkook perceived from the picture himself, and he knew what had been going on while it had been taken.
With flushed cheeks, he looked up at Taehyung. "May I see the others?"
There was no need for him to clarify which others he was referring to. Taehyung knew.
He nodded, tapped an index finger on the screen for an arrow to appear, then indicated for Jungkook to carry on pressing the button on the screen. The young man did as told, and the pictures flicked along, one by one. Each one was of him, with the exception of a pair of hands or a pair of feet; at times a snapshot of a tree popped up, then one of the clouds. Jungkook got to see that picture Taehyung had taken of the daisies that other day, when he had been seen in company of Jimin.
There were also pictures of him with Yoongi, others of Yoongi on his own. Jungkook recognized a few shots of the older man's hands, knew they were his because of the long, pale fingers and the rings that decorated them.
It wasn't until he got to another picture of a hand that he realized that the ones he had seen earlier -- in exception to those of Yoongi’s -- were his own. He zoomed in on the picture to make sure. That was a bracelet of his. The one he was wearing right now, in fact. And the ring, it was one Namjoon had gifted him for his birthday not long ago.
He kept skipping pictures, catching a few more shots of his own hands, a few of him walking. One of the photos was snapped from behind while he had been looking off to the side. It was monochromatic, this one. It was his favourite so far.
When he came to one of a person he did not quite recognize at first, he froze, waiting until the back of his brain linked the smile with a memory, with a name. Jimin.
In the photo, the man was smiling sweetly at the lens. The colours were so bright, and from the bottom right corner, a ray of all the colours of the rainbow flashed upward, as if illuminating Jimin under a rainbow spotlight. He found himself smiling down at the camera, something about the image radiating so much happiness and love that he could not fight back the gesture.
"That one turned out quite nice, huh?" Taehyung commented to his left, voice closer than Jungkook had expected it to be. The latter glanced sideways at him, saw him smiling fondly down at the picture. "It was my first time trying out a prism."
"It is very beautiful," Jungkook confessed, "All of them are, really."
"I'm glad you think that," Taehyung hummed. "They are mostly you, after all. It'd suck if you didn't like them."
Jungkook snorted. "About that--"
"Would you believe me if I told you it was for a final project of my Photography class?" Taehyung asked, wincing. Jungkook shrugged.
"Would have, probably, at the beginning," he said. "Not now, though."
"How come?"
"You would have stopped eventually," Jungkook reasoned. "But you never did."
Taehyung nodded, as if realizing his response had a logic to it. He reached for the camera, but all he did was hold the side of it, not take it from Jungkook's grasp. They both held it there, the tips of Taehyung's fingers nudging his own. "Initially, it was for a final project," Taehyung told him, and Jungkook amused himself in believing what he was saying. "But then..." he trailed off, shrugging sheepishly. "I guess I grew fond of you."
Jungkook chuckled. It was all too familiar to what Jungkook felt.
"You never asked me to stop, though. Did you not care or do you notice until just now?" Taehyung was curious, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Jungkook felt him draw the camera away from him, and he released it gently, watching as Taehyung draped the strap over his neck. He moistened his lips. "I noticed some time ago." Taehyung raised his eyebrows, like saying silently, did you, now? "I guess... I never really cared." Taehyung looked up at him at that, hazel eyes perusing him from beneath thick lashes, and Jungkook swallowed thickly. "I guess I grew fond of you too."
Taehyung grinned at him then, a boxy smile that left Jungkook's insides turning to putty. He weighed the camera in his large hand, having it go up and down slightly. "That's good to hear."
"Yeah?"
Taehyung pouted, nodding. "Yeah."
That night, Jungkook typed Taehyung's number into his phone, saved him under Camera Boy, and went to sleep.
For once, Jungkook did not mind going to buy Namjoon's coffee mid-afternoon. He knew someone would await him at the counter, and for once, he did not dread having to wait in line for nearly half an hour just to buy a fucking macchiato.
The things Jungkook did for his hyungs, honestly.
It was magical, how speaking to Taehyung finally yesterday had smacked all the negativity out of his system. Even the hipstery music from the cafe didn't seem as annoying today. They weren't just clips and clops and blips and blops; today they were small droplets of rain echoing throughout the whole place, faerie twinkles bouncing off the tall windows and dancing through the cold air inside. In between customers, the melodies twirled. They curled like vines around the legs of the chairs and tables.
Jungkook bounced on the heels of his toes, anxious. The good type of anxious, though, the anticipating kind. The kind where you're excited for what's to come.
Taehyung wasn't as queer as he'd thought. Not really. Now, whether he'd been holding back for Jungkook's sake or not, the latter would not know. He supposed Taehyung must have sensed, even if they'd only conversed a short while, that Jungkook was more on the quiet and serious side rather than the loud and exuberant one.
The man had been easy to talk to. Jungkook liked that. Enjoyed the fluidness of the dialogue they'd exchanged yesterday. Taehyung was equal parts cocky and shy, and that was something Jungkook had both enjoyed and suffered through during the whole of their conversation. Just as he'd been able to make the other man flush red at least a handful of times, so had Taehyung done to him. Jungkook would deny from here to the moon, the endless amount of times he'd felt his cheeks grow warm at a comment the other male had made. They'd been too many for his taste.
Jungkook got to know only bits and pieces about Taehyung:
He'd been working at that coffee shop for a while now. In fact, that had been the place where he first caught sight of Jungkook. (The man had probably been out to get Namjoon's afternoon coffee like he was now.) Taehyung told Jungkook that as soon as he'd seen him, he knew it had to be him. Jungkook had to be the subject of his final project; he'll be damned if it wasn't so.
"But why me?" Jungkook had asked, and Taehyung had simply shrugged and responded with a casual,
"I like to take pictures of pretty things."
Jungkook had raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side and pretended the blush on his cheeks wasn't real. "And I'm a 'pretty thing'?"
"Of course," was the easy, confident answer Taehyung had given.
Jungkook felt his face heat up, even now, as he recalled the events of the day prior.
He also got to know that Taehyung did have other friends, other that Jimin. Even if that other person was Jimin's boyfriend, it was someone else. Jungkook supposed that the lack of friends was due to the eccentric character Taehyung was.
The man was odd, it was obvious. Not only from the glitter on his eyes and the translucency of his shirt, but also in his over exaggerated gestures and too bright and honest smiles.
Taehyung was the most genuine person Jungkook had ever spoken to.
He'd thrown flirty, suggestive comments onto Jungkook with no shame whatsoever, had blushed when Jungkook had hurled some of his own at him. He had chuckled at one of Jungkook's comments, the noise true and unabashed, even in its low volume.
Jungkook hadn't realized how utterly fond of this man he'd been until now.
He stepped toward the counter once it was his turn and looked up at the menu even though he already knew what he wanted to order.
"Good evening, my good sir, how may I help you in this lovely, sunny afternoon?"
It was carried out as sarcastically as one could muster, since, well, outside, minuscule droplets of rain were being swept towards the windows, spotting the glass and blurring the view of what lay at the other side of it. Jungkook's countenance was forced out of its serious features, his nose scrunching up in a chuckle.
"I'll have a Caramel Macchiato, sir, please," he said, finally lowering his gaze onto the cashier.
"Sure thing, sir," Taehyung nodded at him, tapping away at the machine. Jungkook watched him with vague amusement. "No Vanilla Americano for you today?"
Jungkook began to shake his head, but then paused, lips parting as an idea started taking shape inside his brain and settled on the tip of his tongue, ready for him to voice it. "Depends..."
"Depends?"
"On whether you'd have one with me or not."
"What about the owner of that Caramel Macchiato?" Taehyung regarded him through his eyelashes. They were a bright cyan, and the color made Taehyung's eyes look an even clearer shade of brown. "Don't you have to take that to them?"
"He can wait." Jungkook cocked his head to the side. "He's patient."
Taehyung sighed, tipping his chin up towards the ceiling melodramatically, as if pondering over his answer philosophically. Then he lowered his head, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook. "My shift ends in five minutes?"
Jungkook had waited longer for people less than Taehyung. "I'll have two Vanilla Americanos, then," he said, and the grin on Taehyung's lips is enough to leave his insides swimming in delight.
Five minutes later, he's seated across from Taehyung in one of the booths in the far back of the place, three cups of coffee sitting between them alongside a small plate with chocolate chip cookies and brownies, courtesy of Taehyung.
"I didn't pay for these," Jungkook had said, but Taehyung had winked, dismissing him with a cheesy, on the house.
Jungkook was reaching for his own cup of coffee when Taehyung spoke, thoughtful.
"Weird, he isn't here yet."
"Who?" Jungkook wondered, licking the coffee off his lips. The cup was warm under his palm, the feeling of it nice.
"Jimin, my friend, he usually comes around by the time my shift ends. It's when Jin hyung's usually begins," Taehyung elaborated. Yesterday, Taehyung had told him the name of Jimin's boyfriend, Seokjin. The elder was one of the coffee shop bakers.
"Maybe he got held back by the rain," Jungkook mumbled, silently slipping his cup back on the table at the same moment Taehyung picked up his.
"Maybe," he agreed, pursing his lips at the cup in his hand. "This better be good," he warned Jungkook, raising his index finger to point at him.
Jungkook smirked. "It is." To him, at least.
Not for Taehyung, apparently. The man scrunched up his nose once his tongue came to contact with the brown liquid. Gagging, he placed the cup back on the table. "Gosh, how can you drink that?!"
"I have a very peculiar taste," he shrugged.
Taehyung opted for taking one of the cookies, biting one in half and chewing on it so as to remove the bitter aftertaste the coffee had left on his tongue. "Peculiar my ass," he grumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he quickly covered his mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry."
Jungkook snorted, waving him off. "Don't worry about it." Having lived with Yoongi for almost two years now, he was well used to hearing curses on a daily basis. "You can have the Macchiato, if you want," he offered, "I'll buy another one later."
"Thanks," Taehyung smiled. Jungkook liked how it looked on him. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and lit his whole face up. Lovely.
Jungkook nudged the Macchiato towards him, and Taehyung took it, his fingers brushing his own. The touch hadn't been subtle at all, and Taehyung seemed to have noticed how blunt he had been, for he laughed breathily.
"Jungkook," the other said, ignoring the fact that he'd openly swept his fingers against the back Jungkook's hand. "It's nice to associate your face with a name, for once." Jungkook nodded, feeling similarly. He leaned forwards against the table, arms crossed over it. "I still don't know your last name, though, or your age."
"Jeon Jungkook, 21," the man answered, "Anything else you wish to know? Blood type, maybe? Height? Zodiac sign?"
"I know you're as tall as me, so telling me your height would be kind of useless. I'm not one to believe in zodiacs, and I hope nothing bad happens to you to the level where you'd need a blood transfusion," Taehyung listed off, tapping his long fingers against the styrofoam cup. Jungkook trained his eyes on his hand, intrigued by the tanned fingers, thin and long where they curled around the coffee cup.
"It's good to know you care about my well-being," Jungkook grinned. He tapped his fingernails against the wooden table to a rhythm similar to that of Taehyung's. "I still don't know yours...?" he trailed off, referring to the fact that he did not know Taehyung's last name or age still.
"Kim Taehyung," Taehyung revealed, "23, which means I expect you to call me 'hyung'." Again, that warning finger pointed in his direction. "And I don't have any particular questions for you. Anything you think I should know?"
"Uhh..." Jungkook was never one to speak much, even less when speaking about himself. "I'm an Art major?"
"You don't sound too sure, Jeon Jungkook," Taehyung teased, propping another cookie in his mouth.
"I'm an Art major," he said again, more confident this time, "And I suppose you're studying Photography?"
Taehyung nodded. "Photography major with an Art History minor."
"Any particular art facts you'd like to share?"
"Renoir is my lord and saviour," Taehyung blurted out, and Jungkook snorted. "Van Gogh's the one that had only one ear. Picasso had a phase where all he painted was squares--"
"Maybe tell me something I don't know," Jungkook teased, even though he knew Taehyung was probably only trying to be funny.
"Alright... uhm..." Taehyung actually thought about it this time; for a while all he did was stare up at the ceiling with parted lips and a faraway gaze. Entirely gone. Then he snapped his fingers and leaned forward, mirroring Jungkook's position except he propped himself up on his elbows, massive hands gesturing wildly between them. They demanded the whole of Jungkook's attention. "There was this Spanish painter from the 1900's, Salvador Dali." Jungkook hummed along, curious. "He was a surrealist painter." Taehyung paused, taking in the expression on Jungkook's face before he continued speaking. "He has this painting called The Great Masturbator.”
For a moment, Jungkook was silent, unblinking. He figured Taehyung had been kidding him, but he recalled hearing about a certain Salvador Dali at least once in his art history classes. And Taehyung did mention he was a surrealist artist, so the fact might not entirely be false. “Okay.”
“The guy was fucking insane,” Taehyung said, obviously amused by what he was telling the younger. His hands were waving in front of him, fingers sprawled like blooming flowers. “He based the painting off of this rock and it supposedly displays all of his insecurities, and sexual fantasies.”
Jungkook nodded, lips stretched down towards his chin. “And you found this interesting because?”
“You mean it is not interesting to you?” Taehyung challenged with a raised eyebrow. Jungkook shrugged. He would not know. It was the first time he’d heard of this specific painting.
“Let’s say it is.”
“Have you ever seen the painting before? Or even heard of Salvador Dali?”
“I have heard of him before, and I most likely have come across one of his paintings at some point.” Jungkook leaned back in his seat and took the coffee cup once more, bringing it to his lips for a sip. “But.”
“But?” Taehyung asked as Jungkook lowered the cup, flicked the plastic lid.
“But no, I haven’t ever seen that painting before.”
Taehyung grinned, reaching behind himself to retrieve his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. These were baggy once again, and rolled up at the cuffs to reveal navy blue socks with roses embroidered on them. They matched the roses decorating the sleeves of Taehyung’s loose white sweatshirt, near the wrists.
The other man’s outfit was sober today, in comparison to all the other arrangements of clothing Jungkook had seen him wear. And even then, he still managed to look his bit of queer, with the glitter dusted at the corners of his eyes and his eyelashes make-upped cyan. Jungkook tried counting them; they were so long, and from this close, Jungkook could see the shadows they casted over Taehyung’s regal cheekbones.
“Here,” Taehyung said, placing his phone on the table between them and turning it so the home button was facing Jungkook. The younger man leaned closer to get a better look at The Great Masturbator.
At first glance, the painting seemed like nonsense. And if you looked closer, it seemed like even more jumbled nonsense. But Jungkook supposed that was how surrealism worked. It was meant to depict the artist’s subconscious, it was meant to reveal their most inner thoughts and shape them into these incongruous figures.
Jungkook did not understand half of what was going on, except for perhaps the top right corner, where a woman had so wonderfully been painted, the tip of her nose ghosting over an indistinct male’s crotch.
Well, now he knew where the painting’s title came from.
Taehyung was watching him peruse the image on his phone, eyes curious and thoughtful. “The woman is suspected to be Gala,” Taehyung told him once he caught his eyes trained on the woman at the top right corner. “Gala Dali, his ex-wife.”
Jungkook nodded along. “Anything you can tell me about that grasshopper rammed up his nose?” he asked, pointing a finger at it.
Taehyung grinned. “Dali was afraid of them. I said the painting displays his insecurities and sexual fantasies, but there’s also his fears.” The other man scooted even closer, so much that his hair mingled with Jungkook’s, their foreheads nearly touching as they both hovered over Taehyung’s mobile phone. “See those ants on the grasshopper’s bottom?” he asked, and Jungkook hummed in recognition, locating them on the image. “Those are meant to resemble his sexual anxiety.”
Jungkook moistened his lips. “It’s quite interesting.”
“Mhm,” Taehyung hummed, smirking. “Salvador Dali is probably one of my favorite artists. He was crazy.” Jungkook raised a questioning eyebrow at him, tilting his chin in his direction without really being aware of what the sudden shift would cause. His nose brushed against Taehyung’s temple.
He froze, feeling his cheeks burn up at the borderline intrusive proximity. Taehyung did not move away, though, or tense up against the unannounced gesture. Rather, he cocked his head to the side opposite Jungkook’s, glanced at him with smug eyes.
“Are you trying to make a move on me or was that purely accidental?” he asked, smirk curling his lips seductively.
Jungkook stood his ground despite the immense urge he had to move away. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Taehyung chuckled, looking back down at the phone on the table. “Uhm…” he began, but perhaps the weight of Jungkook’s gaze on him kept him from concentrating on what he had intended to say. He stuttered, blushing. Jungkook grinned, finally leaning back, giving Taehyung the space they both direly needed. Only then was Taehyung able to continue coherently. “Did you know Dali was convinced that he was his older brother’s reincarnation?”
Jungkook hid his grin behind the rim of his coffee cup. “No, Taehyung, I did not know that.”
Taehyung did not appreciate the mockery in his tone. He gently kicked Jungkook’s shin from beneath the table. Jungkook gave a startled yelp, before shoving the older male’s foot away. Fruitlessly, as the other man’s feet ended up gripping Jungkook’s own, trapping him. “Well, now you know,” Taehyung told him.
Eventually, his feet had eased the tightness of their hold around Jungkook’s ankles, but they remained there, tangled, throughout the whole of their stay at the cafe.
Speed forward to a whole month later, the two of them were friends. Jungkook was fighting Jimin for that ‘best’ title still, but they both knew it was an unanimous decision in the end.
Taehyung wasn’t entirely subtle with his favouritism.
Their dynamic went as followed:
Jungkook would catch Taehyung from the corner of his eye, his ears would twitch at that stupid ’click’ noise, and he would turn to face in the direction he’d heard the sound coming from. He would meet Taehyung’s gaze, find the other male grinning from ear to ear, and, before his brain had even registered what he was doing, his feet would guide him towards the man behind the camera lens.
That was how it was.
Today, Jungkook had heard that ’click’ coming from somewhere behind him. He whipped around in his chair, for he was in his studio, working on a piece that was due yesterday. (Now, listen, before you call him out on being lazy--) He hadn’t gotten the right inspiration to finish it properly, so he’d steered clear from the Fine Arts building for as long as he could -- anxiously debating on whether he should half ass it, finish in time for the due date, or wait and do it with the delicacy he knew he could treat it.
He ended up procrastinating so much he had no choice but go on with the latter.
Jungkook’s hands were tinged with oil paints, and most likely so were his jeans. His lips parted in surprise as he came to face Taehyung on the doorway of his studio.
“Hi,” he greeted rather dumbly.
Taehyung waved. The camera was dangling from his neck again. As he strode over to Jungkook, the latter was able to take in the entirety of him. He was clad in a pair of black high top sneakers and black skinny jeans ripped at the knee, a loose long sleeved turtleneck covering his torso -- at the neck, as if weaving themselves around it, were the vines of roses, even though their flowers were nowhere to be found. He looked sleek, casual, and Jungkook had a hard time looking away.
“How did you find me here?” Jungkook wondered after a moment, once his brain was done catching up.
“I saw you going in and followed you,” Taehyung admitted with blushing cheeks.
“You should let that habit of yours go,” Jungkook suggested, even though he did not precisely care that the older male followed him around campus sometimes.
Taehyung wasn’t really paying attention to him anyway; all of it was devoted to the artwork behind Jungkook. His eyes were wide as he took it all in -- the colors, the intricate detail to each and every one of the petals. The man stepped closer, reached forwards as if to touch it with the tips of his fingers, but then caught himself. The paint was still wet. “Did you do this?”
Jungkook twirled his stool to face him. He nodded. “Yeah.”
“It’s beautiful, Jungkook,” he praised, awed.
On the canvas, depicted in various shades of red and pink, were roses. Roses blooming, roses still in their buds, roses whose petals were beginning to fall, roses with their thorny vines twisting and turning all around, the deep green only barely distinguished over the navy blue background.
Taehyung took a step back, perhaps so he could appreciate the painting from a panoramic view, but clumsily hit the heel of his shoe with one of the stool’s legs. Jungkook instinctively reached in front of him, gripping Taehyung’s hips so the man would not fall -- whether on him or on the canvas.
He only realized what he’d done when it was much too late.
Jungkook watched as Taehyung looked down at his hands holding onto his middle. He gaped, horrified. Taehyung’s sweatshirt was white. And Jungkook’s hands were lathered throughout with bright red paint.
“Shit,” Jungkook cursed, releasing Taehyung at once. “Hyung, I’m so sorry.”
Taehyung exhaled shakily. “This won’t come off, will it?” he asked, and Jungkook furrowed his brow.
“It’s oil. It won’t come off unless…” he trailed off, eyes fluttering closed. “Unless you wash it off now that it’s still wet.”
Taehyung turned to face Jungkook, standing in between his spread legs. “Now you’re just looking for excuses to get me to strip,” he accused the younger, smirking.
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to save your sweatshirt from ruin, hyung.”
The man in front of him sighed melodramatically, unwound the camera from his neck to drape it over Jungkook’s instead. Then, as swiftly as one could possibly do, and with as much confidence as one could possibly have, he took off his sweatshirt.
Jungkook could only stare, as the skin of Taehyung’s bare chest became exposed a few inches away from his nose. He swallowed thickly before looking away, over Taehyung’s shoulder. “There’s a -- uhm -- sink, right over there.” He pointed at it vaguely, flustered.
Taehyung smiled innocently down at him. “Thanks.”
Jungkook tried not to stare at his bare back for too long, but it was hopeless. Once he’d raised his gaze again, he couldn't tear it away. So he watched, mesmerized, as the muscles of Taehyung's back shifted while he washed the paint off his shirt.
“Is that piece for your class or are you doing it for yourself?” he vaguely heard Taehyung ask.
Jungkook had to shake his head in order to get his thoughts straight. “It’s... for my class.”
Taehyung nodded. “It’s very beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Jungkook said. He was about to fumble about with Taehyung’s camera, just so he had something to busy himself with, but then realized his hands were still dirty with paint. He got up and walked over toward the sink, where Taehyung was already wringing his sweatshirt. “You can borrow my shirt if you want,” he suggested as he pumped liquid soap onto his palm and scrubbed the crimson pigments off his skin.
Taehyung frowned. “What will you wear?”
“I’ll just use this one,” he nodded down at himself, at the raggedy old white tee he was wearing. It was splattered with paint and even had a few holes near the hem, but he didn’t precisely give a fuck. “I can change once I get to my apartment.”
“Oh,” Taehyung voiced, as if shy.
Jungkook looked up at him, hands smoothing over each other as he rinsed the suds off. The water that drained was tinged the color of blood. “Would you like to come along?”
And Taehyung, with a small smile, answered ’yes’.
Speed forward to three months later, and Jungkook was no longer fighting to be Taehyung’s best friend. The title had always belonged to Jimin.
Jungkook was meant to be Taehyung’s lover, not his friend.
It was on the older male’s bed that that fact became known. With Taehyung snapping pictures of Jungkook as the younger reached down the edge of the bed for his shirt. His nakedness reaching down the tips of his toes.
He glanced at the other over his shoulder, smirking. “Quit that,” he scolded, “You better delete those pictures later.”
“Nobody will ever see these,” Taehyung promised as he leaned to his left to place the camera on his bedside table. “Nobody can see you like this but me.” He crawled over to where Jungkook was sitting, near the edge of the bed. The younger felt his hands on his chest, pulling him back against the other. He felt his mouth on his skin, peppering kisses all the way up his neck, felt his teeth tugging at the earring lodged in his earlobe. “Where are you going?”
Jungkook had no answer, so he allowed himself to melt into Taehyung’s chest, let the older male claim his flesh with his teeth. “You are going to be the death of me,” he breathed out when Taehyung gently pushed him so he lied on his back once again, shifted to place a thigh between Jungkook’s.
The man leaned down and kissed him, and he tasted as queer as Jungkook had expected him to taste. A bit too sweet, too much like candy. His tongue was hot and wet where it urged his lips open. His breath warm as it meddled with his own.
Taehyung’s earring dangled so it brushed the back of Jungkook’s hand as the latter reached up to cup his cheek, held him in place. The man moved away, peppered butterfly kisses down Jungkook’s jawline. “It’ll be a good way to go,” he teased, nibbling at Jungkook’s earlobe.
The younger shivered, the sensation something he’d grown accustomed to feeling when Taehyung kissed him like this. And still, a startled o-ohh… broke past his lips.
Taehyung chuckled, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Wouldn’t it?” he teased. Unable to think up a proper counter attack, Jungkook rolled his hips up against him, pleased to find Taehyung’s eyes fluttering closed at the contact, a low hum going past his lips with no permission whatsoever. When he opened them again, it was to bore his dark gaze onto Jungkook. The younger reached up, brushed the long strands of hair away from Taehyung’s brow.
As if on a gravitational pull, Taehyung was guided back down towards his mouth, bruising it with a lazy kiss Jungkook so eagerly reciprocated. His fingers buried themselves in Taehyung’s hair. At the shudder that raked through the other, Jungkook smirked, experimentally giving the strands a gentle tug.
Taehyung’s hips stuttered forward, a low groan mumbled against Jungkook’s lips. “You’re so unfair,” he growled, fingers fisting the pillow to each side of Jungkook’s head.
The younger arched his back, grinning. “You love it.”
Taehyung looked conflicted, if only for a moment, before he sighed, bowing his head. “I do.”
Jungkook was convinced of it by the time Taehyung was done wrecking him all over, by the time his body had laid waste above the mattress, his neck and hips littered with the bruises Taehyung’s hands and lips had left behind. He was convinced of it as he turned his head to the side and found Taehyung struggling to catch his breath, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of red. Like the red of the roses that were embroidered into his jeans, the roses Jungkook had painted onto a canvas.
Taehyung was so pretty. Jungkook told him so. And as he did, all the confidence he’d seen Taehyung wear all those times he’d seen him around campus, while he wore his flowery jeans and translucent tops, all that confidence was gone. Taehyung was bare of it all as he laid there next to Jungkook, naked.
The man was frowning, utterly confused as Jungkook leaned over his body in order to reach the camera propped on the bedside table. He straddled Taehyung’s stomach, shyly covering himself up with the blankets so they pooled around his and Taehyung’s hips. He turned the camera on, raised it to eye level and pointed the lens at Taehyung.
“Guk--”
The younger man took the photo, smirking. He lowered the camera and tapped away at it so it displayed the picture he’d just taken. In the image, Taehyung was grinning that boxy smile of his, a large hand drawn up to cover part of his face. He had that after sex glow to him, evident from miles away.
It was one of Jungkook’s favourite photographs.
“Nobody else can see this,” Jungkook ordered, voice stern, and Taehyung took the camera from him. He snapped Jungkook a picture of his own, nodded in agreement to whatever the younger was saying. “Only I can see you when you’re the prettiest.”
Taehyung couldn’t kiss him back. He was smiling much too wide to do so.