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No one ever said Taehyung and his friends were particularly smart. And to see them now, huddled around a tiny bonfire on the dewey grass, in various stages of teeth chattering and developing frostbite, certainly wouldn't change anyone’s minds.
“Fuck, it's cold,” Hoseok hisses, rubbing his palms against his thighs for warmth as he glares across the half circle they've formed in his backyard. Beside him, Jungkook's face contorts under the flickering light from the fire. He leans into Hoseok's side, throwing both arms tight around him. “Where are these dumb meteors, Joonie? I wanna go inside.”
“I told you we shoulda gone up on the roof,” Namjoon groans. He's squinting up at the sky through his thick framed glasses, then digging around for his phone in his pocket. “Can’t see shit from down here. Too many trees.”
Taehyung opens his mouth, goes to say how he can see just fine, all the tiny stars dotted along the black sky, or at least the ones the light pollution isn’t messing with. But Yoongi snorts before he gets the chance, squeezing Taehyung closer with the arm around his shoulder.
“If you think for a goddamn second I was letting Tae's clumsy ass climb up a ladder—”
“I'm not clumsy,” Taehyung huffs, just as Seokjin snickers from his other side. He tries wiggling away, shoving at Yoongi's side, but there's not much force behind it. Yoongi is just so good at chasing away the chill the fire can't reach, his tiny body producing just enough heat for Taehyung to feed off of. It’s keeping him alive, is all. Serving as the only reason Taehyung isn’t sulking, shrugging right out of his boyfriend’s hold.
Yoongi turning his head and pressing his lips to Taehyung's temple in a silent apology doesn't hurt, either.
“Jimin and Namjoon are just as likely to fall and break their necks as Taehyung,” Seokjin chuckles. He lifts his empty beer bottle, uses the light from the fire to look through it before side eyeing Yoongi. “What about them?”
It's a good question. Taehyung shifts around on the heavy blanket laid out over the grass, peeking curiously from under Yoongi's arm where he's conceded and leaned into him again. He waits for an answer with the rest of them, fingers drumming lightly against his knees.
As usual, Yoongi isn't fazed. What he is, though, is stunning. The prettiest thing Taehyung has ever seen. Hair as black as the sky above them, with eyes just as dark. Fair skin glowing under the strange mix of hazy moonlight, and the orange from the fire. All small and delicate, but never letting that stop him from making Taehyung feel safe, or keeping him as warm as he can manage on nights like these, when they let Namjoon convince them to come out and look for meteors in the middle of December.
Jimin snorts, forcing his way under Namjoon's arm. Namjoon barely bats an eye, attention solely on his phone. Taehyung would bet he's looking up the status of this supposed meteor shower, and that he probably hasn't heard a word any of them have said.
“Why would he care about that?” Jimin asks, pouting at the lack of affection Namjoon shows him. He peels away, inching his way toward Seokjin, instead. “He’s not in love with us.”
The fire, luckily, casts an orange-red glow on their faces, dulls their complexions, gives everything around them a dusky tinge. So the chances of anyone noticing Taehyung's flushed cheeks are slim to none, and even if they did, he could blame it on the heat from the flames, easy.
Not that they would believe him, but they'd have no proof, is the thing.
He expects Yoongi to freeze up, go all stiff, suddenly need to use the bathroom and escape into the house where it’s safe. After all, love is a pretty heavy word for two people who have been together a grand total of two and a half months, and Yoongi had a hard enough time admitting he liked Taehyung.
(There’s no denying it after the fuss they made at Jimin’s birthday party, though. Taehyung drunkenly confessing to Yoongi in a mess of tears, right there in the middle of the jam-packed living room after Yoongi sidestepped his hug. Asking him why he wasn't good enough, what it was about him that kept Yoongi holding him at arm's length, never letting him in. Yoongi declaring they were both idiots before kissing him in front of the entire guest list, then blushing like a fool when he realized what he'd done.
As unintentional as it was, poor Jimin still hasn't forgiven them for stealing the spotlight on his special night.)
“Damn right about that,” Yoongi finally grumbles. (It takes a minute for Taehyung to remember what Jimin had said, and that Yoongi hasn’t read his mind.) His fingers trace light, indecipherable patterns Taehyung can barely feel up and down his arm, his face still turned into Taehyung’s hair.
The warm breath hitting the exposed skin of his neck makes him shiver. Yoongi misinterprets the gesture, and curses under his breath.
“Told you to wear a heavier coat."
He shifts around a bit, until he’s wound himself snug against Taehyung’s back. His arms fit around Taehyung’s waist as he buries his cold nose into the nape of his neck, prompting a bout of sickly sweet cooing from around the bonfire.
Yoongi ignores it.
“Gross,” Jungkook complains, stretching out his legs and soaking up the warm spot Yoongi had been sitting in. His voice comes out distorted, muffled by where his mouth is pressed to Hoseok’s shoulder. “You guys are gross.”
“Says you,” Taehyung shoots back. He makes a big show of looking Jungkook over, all the places he's glued to Hoseok, and Jungkook lifts his head and scrunches his nose at him.
A taunt. Taehyung retaliates in the form of sticking out his tongue. Yoongi hooks his chin over Taehyung's shoulder and sighs.
“Don't encourage him.”
“But hyung,” Taehyung whines. He feels betrayed, despite Yoongi finding Taehyung's gloved hands and latching onto them, locking their fingers tight. Despite the kiss he presses to the top of Taehyung’s shoulder. Despite that their friends can see it all.
“If you're good for me now,” Yoongi murmurs, soft and low, right into Taehyung's ear. He doesn't bother to check if anyone else is listening. Doesn’t seem to care much, not the way he used to. “I'll be good for you later.”
Taehyung’s lungs feel tight, all of a sudden, Yoongi’s words warming him from the inside out. He lets his head fall back against Yoongi’s shoulder, lips pursed, a promise to stay out of trouble.
The group is unusually quiet. Even Namjoon is watching now, phone slack in his hands, the screen black.
“I could have gone my whole life without hearing that,” Jungkook shudders. Hoseok reaches back to flick his nose.
“Let ‘em be, Jungkookie. They’re cute.”
Taehyung feels like a balloon filled with too much air, his face splitting right in half with a grin.
“D’you hear that, hyung? We’re cute.”
Yoongi doesn’t seem so amused. All the lovey-dovey seems to have caught up with him, the realization that all their friends are staring, unaccustomed to this secret side of him. He shakes his hands out of Taehyung’s hold and shrugs his shoulder, pushing Taehyung’s head forward.
He’s embarrassed. Taehyung thinks that’s cute, too.
“Guys,” Jimin gasps, and just like that, the attention has shifted. “Look! A shooting star!”
Taehyung looks a little too late, wrapped up in staring at Yoongi’s careful, blank gaze and pink cheeks, and just catches the long, glowing tail streaking across the sky. It’s beautiful. Maybe the second prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
“That’s a meteor, dumbass,” Jungkook says dryly. From the corner of Taehyung’s eye, Seokjin wraps a protective arm around Jimin’s shoulder.
“They’re the same thing, bigger dumbass.”
It’s better, with the attention off them like this. Under the cover of the others’ laughter, Hoseok scolding Jungkook, Namjoon shushing them all in vain, Yoongi tugs at Taehyung’s coat, shifting him around.
“Still cold?”
And god, Taehyung’s heart aches, clenching like Yoongi has stuck his fist right into his chest and squeezed. He’s got this look about him, one Taehyung hasn’t figured out quite yet. All soft and warm, like he’s afraid a harsh look directed Taehyung’s way might break him.
It wouldn’t. It never did before, but it’s like Yoongi tries to pretend the four years of dodging Taehyung’s affection never happened. Like he didn’t used to leave the room every time Taehyung entered, like he wasn’t trying to chase Taehyung off to protect himself.
“Tae?”
“Huh?”
“Pay attention, baby,” Yoongi sighs, a cloudy puff of breath making Taehyung go cross eyed. “I asked if you were still cold.”
Baby. Something else to get used to. But Taehyung likes it, and it shows.
“Oh. No. Well—” He rubs his palms together, grimacing. “Kinda. Can’t really feel my fingers.”
Yoongi reaches forward, peels the thin gloves off Taehyung’s hands. Brings them up to his mouth and kisses his fingers with slightly chapped lips, two at a time. Taehyung can’t really breathe with Yoongi looking at him like that, but it’s alright. He was always an excellent swimmer, real good at holding his breath. Who needs air when they have a boyfriend like Min Yoongi, anyway?
“Better?” Yoongi asks, muffled against Taehyung’s skin. Taehyung solemnly shakes his head, watches Yoongi’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch.
He slips one hand from Yoongi’s grasp and taps his own nose.
“Cold here, too.”
Yoongi shoots him a droll stare and calls him a fuckin’ brat, but his voice is fond when he says it, and he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the tip of Taehyung’s nose.
Taehyung is pretty sure everyone is watching again. But what Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Well?” Yoongi’s eyes are wide. Taehyung can feel his pulse thrumming fast when he twists his hand around to link their fingers. “What about now?”
Taehyung hums. Yoongi’s lips twitch and his shoulders quake, barely noticeable, as he tries to hold back a laugh. And there’s that look again, so sickly sweet Taehyung’s lungs throb.
“Nope,” he says, finally. His voice quivers like he’s about to burst, still not used to this, to smiling at Yoongi and Yoongi smiling back, to the feeling of Yoongi’s lips on his skin and their fingers laced together.
I love you, he wants to tell him. I don’t care that it’s cold, or that I can’t breathe when you look at me. I don’t care that it’s too soon. I love you.
Instead, he says, “Here, too,” and pokes at his lips with a numb finger. A bold move, but a predictable one. Yoongi probably saw it coming a mile away. Taehyung is pretty sure he’s right when he gets that wide, gummy smile he’s been working for all night.
“You’re lucky,” Yoongi grumbles, grabbing a fistful of Taehyung’s coat and tugging him close. And Taehyung can’t believe he wasted so many years of his life, kissing other people, trying not to want this. Trying not to want Yoongi, while Yoongi pretended not to want him back.
His lips are so warm, even if the fingers he slips up into Taehyung’s hair aren’t. And he’s really not trying to put on a show here, one sappy confession and nearly jumping each other’s bones in front of an entire audience had been enough for a lifetime, so he pulls back, grinning. Yoongi almost kisses his teeth, trying to tug him back in again.
“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, breathless. Millions of miles away, Jungkook fake gags. “Why am I lucky?”
Yoongi licks his lips. Presses his forehead to Taehyung’s, closes his eyes. He’s shaking, but after everything, Taehyung doesn’t see how he could possibly still be cold.
“You know why.”
“I don’t,” Taehyung swears. He doesn’t. “Tell me.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, but the voice Taehyung hears isn’t his.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook gripes. Taehyung kind of wishes Hoseok would kiss him, just to shut him up. “It’s ‘cause he’s in love with you. Everyone knows. Can we do something else now?”
Taehyung takes it back. He doesn’t want Jungkook to shut up. He never wants Jungkook to shut up, wants him to keep talking, give a few more details, explain why no one else looks as stunned as Taehyung feels.
“Look at me,” Yoongi says, but he doesn’t really look like he wants to be looked at, with the pinch between his brows and the frown on his lips, bright red from the cold. He hates the spotlight, always has, but he soldiers on, squeezing Taehyung’s hand. Taehyung’s chest swells with pride on top of everything else.
“You know I am, Taehyung-ah. You know.”
He didn’t know, but he does now. Yoongi loves him. In Hoseok’s backyard, with all their friends around. The occasional flash of a meteor across the stark black sky.
I love you, Taehyung had wanted to say, and he still wants to. So he does.
“Finally,” Jungkook mutters as Yoongi’s cheeks flush red. Taehyung’s laugh sounds more like a sob, and Yoongi kisses him again, slow and sweet. Jimin is on the verge of tears, babbling you two are so adorable, forget about my birthday party, I forgive you for everything, right into Seokjin’s chest.
“Hey,” Yoongi whispers over the crackle of the fire, “how long d’you think it’d take him to forgive us if he knew we fucked in his bed that night?”
Taehyung snorts into the neck of Yoongi’s jacket. Jimin pushes off of Seokjin, eyes wide, jaw wider.
“You did what?”
“Oops,” Yoongi mumbles. Taehyung opens his mouth, maybe to curse, or to whine, or to plead for Jimin’s forgiveness. But before he can do any of that, Yoongi tacks on a quick, earnest, “I love you."
And nothing else really matters.