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“I’m going to meet up with Namjoon today.”
Taehyung doesn’t know what to make of that fact that is thrown seemingly without a care into the room. Jimin is standing in the doorway, hovering like he’s not sure what Taehyung is going to answer, and maybe Taehyung shouldn’t answer at all.
Am I not enough? He wants to yell. Do you really need someone else besides me?
“Jimin.” He tries to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it comes out cracked and with an almost soundless whisper that he hates himself for. He isn’t supposed to feel anything for Jimin, isn’t supposed to feel this ice-cold jealousy surging through his veins. I only have you.
“You could always come with me, you know? It’s nice. Namjoon’s nice.” He’s not moving. Waiting. With his godforsaken soft smile, and his eyes full of hope, but maybe it’s just Taehyung imagining that.
“B-but you. You’re like. You.” Taehyung breathes in, breathes out, places the cup of tea he has been warming his hands with back on the kitchen counter. “What exactly are you doing when you meet him?”
“We cuddle. Talk about stuff. Sometimes we just watch a movie.”
“But isn’t that what we do all the time?”
“Tae, it’s—”
“Am I not enough?” The one thing he isn’t supposed to say. The one thing that could destroy their friendship. It hurts it hurts it hurts.
“You are everything.” Jimin is next to him before he can breathe, throwing his arms around Taehyung’s waist. Presses close, closer. Jimin’s nose feels cold against his neck, his breath hot on Taehyung’s skin where he hides his face. “Everything.”
And Taehyung—
Taehyung doesn’t understand the world anymore. For years he’s tried to hold himself back. For years he’s tried not to translate too much into every touch, every word. He thought he had lost him when Jimin went out for the first time to meet Namjoon, although Jimin had assured him time and time again that it wasn’t a date. Taehyung felt unwanted, unneeded, betrayed.
When Jimin came home that day, Taehyung hadn’t been able to look into his eyes.
“Tae? Say something?” Jimin tries to back away, but his voice makes Taehyung aware that he’s still standing with his arms hanging uselessly on his sides, it makes him realize with its hurt insecurity that he hasn’t reacted at all. What Jimin said could still mean that Taehyung means everything to him - as in a friend. As in everything is still the same. Taehyung already said too much, revealed too much. He can’t take it back. Not now. It’s time to be brave.
He holds onto Jimin before he can retreat further, lifts him up onto the counter and cages him in so he can’t run away from this. Jimin’s eyes are wide with surprise, his lips quivering as if he’s about to cry.
“I love you, you blithering idiot,” Taehyung says, “I’ve loved you for years.”
“What?”
“I thought you knew, I thought you knew— I thought you didn’t feel the same. I—”
“Now, who’s the blithering idiot?” Jimin says, the vulnerability of his voice unbearable, his right hand cupping Taehyung’s left cheek. Taehyung leans into the warmth of the touch, searching for the soothing sensation, but it’s not enough to still his racing thoughts. The closeness is nothing new. Taehyung is used to fall asleep with Jimin wrapped around him like a Koala, is used to holding hands with him.
He’s not used to Jimin cupping his other cheek as well, not used to the small Can I?, not used to Jimin’s soft soft soft lips. Lingering, pressing closer, searching for a response. Imagination is replaced with a new memory. Taehyung makes sure it becomes a memory that will stay with them for a long time.
“Hi,” Taehyung whispers when they break apart from each other.
“Hey,” Jimin whispers back. “I’m going to be late.”
The small remark hurts more than it should. Taehyung lets go of Jimin’s hips, his hands lying on the counter next to him without purpose until Jimin places them back where they had been before.
“You’re still going?”
“Come with me? I really want you to meet him,” it’s almost a plea, “Maybe you’ll understand then.”
—
The door is slightly agape when they arrive on the third floor of a house that seems rundown judging on the outside but is well-kept on the inside. Old polished wooden floors and handles, abstract paintings in warm colors, a smell wafting through the staircase as if someone has just gotten cookies out of the oven— the good kind of cookies.
“Hyung?” Jimin calls out.
“Come in!” It’s a soft voice, friendly. “I wasn’t sure I would hear you ring the bell with the oven still running.”
Jimin gets out of his denim jacket and hangs it over the coat rack where only one single coat hangs while he toes of his shoes. He’s already acting so familiar here like he is a part of this house, like this is a place where he’s always welcome. Taehyung tries to shake off the nagging feeling that he’s just an intruder here, and follows suit in placing his shoes and jacket where they seem to belong, where Jimin has placed his.
He still can’t believe Jimin kissed him earlier. It seems unreal with where they are now. Jimin had held his hand the whole way here, had still held on when they were walking up the stairs. Taehyung had been afraid to let go, to lose the little insurance that the touch gave him.
Lost in his thoughts, lost in the fight his shoelaces are putting up, he didn’t notice Namjoon coming in. Or at least Taehyung assumes it is Namjoon who is standing in front of him, now that he has won the fight against his shoelaces and stands upright again.
Namjoon is taller than Taehyung by a few centimeters, wearing dark purple sweatpants and a short-sleeved black t-shirt, accompanied by an apron he has slung around his waist. There’s flour on his left cheek and a blob of dough on his shirt. Overall he looks a bit turbulent, his blond hair a mess, his cheeks heated - most probably from the warmth of the oven - his smile dimpled. Taehyung can see why Jimin keeps coming back, and he tries not to let it hurt him.
“Hey, I brought Taehyung today.” Jimin quickly wipes the smudge of flour from Namjoon’s cheek before he leans in for a hug. It all seems so natural with them, unforced with the way Jimin gets on his tiptoes to whisper something in Namjoon’s ear how Namjoon tightens their hug with a gentle smile and bright eyes after whatever Jimin said to him.
There’s something in Namjoon’s eyes when he lets go of Jimin again and pays proper attention to Taehyung. Namjoon is all but a stranger to Taehyung, but he notices genuine curiosity and— happiness? He’s at a loss.
“The infamous Taehyung, I feel like I know you already.”
Taehyung doubts that, but— “You talked about me?”
“All the time,” Namjoon chuckles while he shakes Taehyung’s hand, and Jimin giggles behind them, lacing his fingers with Taehyung’s other hand. They follow Namjoon into the kitchen, which resembles the current messy state Namjoon is in. There’s flour absolutely everywhere.
“I asked if you needed help with the baking, hyung,” Jimin snorts when he sees the mess, drawing swirls into the layer of flour on the table.
Namjoon laughs heartily. “I’d offer you a seat, but I don’t want you to ruin your clothes. Take the cookies and milk and bring them to the living room? I’ll follow you in a sec.”
“Shouldn’t we clean up first?” Jimin asks.
“It’s fine. I’ll do it later. Didn’t invite you over for cleaning, baby.”
Baby.
Taehyung can see how the color of Jimin’s cheeks gets dusted with pink. He doesn’t know what to think of this. He still doesn’t understand why they are here, why he’s welcomed so warmly, why Jimin squeezes Taehyung’s fingers ever so lightly as if he wants to tell him not to worry about it. Taehyung can’t help himself. Of course he worries. Of course he worries that Jimin has already forgotten what happened earlier, that everything will get back to normal once they are back home. Of course he worries about the fact that Jimin seems unable to look at him right now, his cheeks still glowing.
Namjoon hands them a plate of cookies and three glasses of milk, unaware of the moment of awkwardness he caused between Taehyung and Jimin. They have to let go of each other to take the offered items, and Taehyung feels the loss of Jimin’s hand in his immediately.
Jimin leads the way to the living room, and Taehyung follows him through the hallway to the large room. It’s an explosion of warm colors, orange, purple, yellow, red. Somehow it’s not too much, somehow it’s exciting and calming at the same time. There’s a huge round couch in the middle of the room, more a bed than a couch. The coffee table in front of it seems almost tiny in comparison.
“Tae, I—” Jimin says as he places the cookies and one glass of milk he’s holding on the table, his Adam’s apple betraying his nervousness. “I just want you to be openminded, okay? Namjoon— he has a lot of love to give, and I think I have more to give too, and when I told him about y—” Jimin doesn’t get to finish the sentence as they can here Namjoon’s steps in the hallway.
He has a lot of love to give.
I feel like I know you already.
I think I have more to give too.
Baby.
Taehyung needs to sit down.
Is he. Is he the missing link? Is— Jimin already in a relationship with Namjoon and—
“Are you okay, Taehyung-ah?” It’s Namjoon, his hand warm on Taehyung’s shoulder, sitting down next to him while Jimin is still standing in front of the couch.
“I’m sorry, Tae. I shouldn’t have thrown it on you like this. I should have given you time. Tell you before we came here. I shouldn’t— not today when we just— cleared things between us and. I’m sorry,” Jimin is whispering with a voice so fragile Taehyung is afraid to touch him, afraid to move. “I understand if you can’t love me like this. If this is too much, if Namjoon is too much. I— I'm so sorry. I just got so hopeful today when we kissed and you wanted to come with me. Come with me here.”
Namjoon and Taehyung are reaching out for each of Jimin’s hand at the exact same time. It makes a sob shatter through Jimin’s body, he seems so torn, and Taehyung wants him to stop crying right away. Wants him to smile again.
There’s a lot to process in his mind. Namjoon. He seems kind. He seems like someone Taehyung could like. He doesn’t know how he would feel sharing Jimin, but then again Jimin isn’t his possession, and if Jimin - the kind soul that he is - has so much love in his heart, who is Taehyung to hold him back from sharing it? It’s not a decision he can make today. It’s going to be a process.
“Hey, hey Jimin. Why don’t you let me get to know Namjoon first? Maybe start by telling me how you met him?”
They both look at him in surprise. Namjoon’s hand is still lingering on Taehyung’s shoulder, squeezing it a little. It’s not an uncomfortable touch.
“You didn’t tell him?”
This is how Taehyung learns that Jimin met Namjoon via a Cuddling website. He wanted someone who he could tell everything he’s feeling, which was so much, too much when it came to Taehyung. Namjoon wasn’t a professional cuddler. Just someone who had the same needs as Jimin. They both agree with him when Taehyung interjects, saying that things could have gone terribly wrong.
“We made sure to text a lot before meeting in a café for the first time. Met multiple times before I let Namjoon invite me to his home,” Jimin says. His voice is still rough and tired from the tears he’s shed. He’s leaning against Namjoon, holding hands with Taehyung. For a split second Taehyung can imagine, for a split second something settles deep within him, and he knows this is one of the moments he’s going to remember, one of those moments that he’ll associate certain colors and smells with.
Purple and the warm spices of the cookies.
Orange and the sandalwood note of Namjoon’s perfume.
Yellow and Jimin’s floral fabric softener.
“Maybe. We could just—” Can he really say this? Suggest something like this? “—cuddle then?”
“If you want this? If you don’t feel forced? Like. We’re expecting something of you?” Namjoon asks softly.
“Let’s just try, please?”
“Tae,” Jimin whispers, his thumb ghosting over Taehyung’s palm.
Taehyung kisses Jimin’s temple, watching how his eyes are getting suspiciously moist again. He needs to try, needs to try for Jimin, for himself and maybe a little for the kind, chaotic stranger, that becomes less of a stranger as the seconds tick by.
They scoot backward to get comfortable on the couch, Namjoon ending up between Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin clings to Namjoon’s back as soon as they are settled, hiding his face between Namjoon’s shoulder blades. Taehyung watches them, gets the feeling of tranquility again.
“Hey,” Namjoon opens his arms, offering a place between them, and Taehyung shifts with slow, hesitant movements so Namjoon can spoon him. He lays his head down on Namjoon’s arm, hugging the nearest pillow to his chest, so his own arms are occupied.
“I’m going to hug you now, okay?”
And oh, he’s warm. He’s warm and strong and holding Taehyung just in the right way.
“Relax,” Namjoon whispers, “My arm is not going to break.”
Only then he dares to put the whole weight of his head on Namjoon’s arm, allows himself to melt against the warm chest he feels behind him. A smaller hand wriggles its way between the pillow and Namjoon’s hand.
Maybe this is it.
Maybe that’s all there is about it.
Maybe love is supposed to be shared so it can multiply.