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It’s always the same every Chuseok. Taehyung washes the dishes, Seokjin dries them.
The house is dark and quiet after a delicious dinner with their families. Seokjin welcomes the silence. He appreciates the cheer when they all come together (such an old habit he doesn’t remember holidays without Taehyung), but his brain has low tolerance to noise, so at some point he just craves peace.
That is, until Taehyung notices him zoning out and makes funny faces, plays footsie under the table. Seokjin takes Taehyung’s sock off with his toes, aided by Yeontan’s sharp little teeth. Taehyung scolds them with a pout and furrowed brows that soon melt into giggles when Yeontan licks his heel.
He appreciates it, so very much.
“I forgot my headband.” Taehyung yawns, pausing the intense scrubbing to push his bangs away from his eyes with the back of his wrist. Seokjin dries his hands and gently moves the blond strands, too short to stay behind his ear.
“Hang on.”
Seokjin fetches it, puts it around his head without much care.
“Hyung!” Taehyung snorts. From behind him, Seokjin leans to the side to find the headband became a blindfold. Laughter gets stuck in his throat, however, when Taehyung turns his head, so close their noses almost touch. Seokjin sways for a millisecond.
He swallows thickly to keep the massive fireball in his chest at bay, then adjusts the headband, pushing every rebel lock of hair into place.
“Thanks.”
Taehyung checks his reflection in the window above the sink. Seokjin steals a furtive glance of his exposed forehead, showing no emotion despite what just happened. Taehyung doesn’t wear his hair pushed back often, but when he does, Seokjin is twice as careful. The same applies for when he borrows Seokjin’s T-shirts, a bit too large on the shoulders for him, leading to delicious accidents and endless daydreams.
None of these wounds are fresh. Seokjin doesn’t lose his breath, except when Taehyung sports particularly appealing outfits or new hair colors (last time was red, and he stared at the pictures Taehyung filled his phone with for weeks). He sees Taehyung naked sometimes and doesn’t break a sweat (just grits his teeth a little).
It’s fine, really. He can live like this.
A chunk of his heart is solely occupied by Taehyung. It only hurts when he pokes it. They’re childhood friends, share so many memories, almost like brothers to their families. His feelings bloomed and grew in the shameful shadow that “almost” allows, never to see the light of day. He’s made peace with that long ago.
Taehyung snaps him out of it by sneezing, loud as always, right into his face. Seokjin blinks, unfazed, wipes it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“You wiped it!” He protests, jaw dropped. “Do I disgust you?”
“Don’t want your germs.” Seokjin grimaces. Liar.
Taehyung flips his hair dramatically, like the characters from the dramas they binge and often reenact. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do.”
No romantic song plays, no flower petals rain on them. Taehyung goes on washing the dishes, and Seokjin goes on drying them.
“That’s right.” He wiggles his butt in a happy dance. Seokjin smacks it for good measure, knows he likes praise. “Do you love my germs too, hyung?”
“Deeply.”
“Ew.” Taehyung scrunches his nose.
“Just because you ate the last piece of pork belly.”
Time has taught him to lie through his teeth well. Taehyung throws his head back, laughing, then leans into Seokjin, gives a long huff. Seokjin closes his eyes, weathers the hot, smelly storm, his only chance to breathe Taehyung’s air.
“Damn, that tasted good,” he hums.
“Ha, I ate it!” He finishes his task and dries his hands, blowing on Seokjin’s face again. “What are you gonna do about it? Kiss me?”
Seokjin’s thoughts come to a halt. They always joke around, but never with Taehyung’s arm around his waist, Taehyung’s body pressed to his side, Taehyung’s tantalizing grin, so close he can admire the mole on his bottom lip, Taehyung’s voice saying those cursed words… It’s a bit too much.
He goes on mocking, barely able to speak without laughing.
“You wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?”
That’s what it is to him. Funny.
The fireball he’s swallowed his whole life comes scorching up his throat. Like a rubber band, stretched too thin, finally snapping, Seokjin’s hands cup Taehyung’s face, his body presses Taehyung’s against the counter. Time stops. Nothing else exists, not now that he has Taehyung’s undivided attention, Taehyung’s hands clinging to the sides of his sweatshirt. Seokjin’s eyes fall to his parted lips, watch his Adam’s apple bob.
It’s not funny. It fucking hurts.
“You have no idea.”
He could just take it, then and there. Everything he’s always wanted. Taehyung wouldn’t fight him, he knows.
But Taehyung wouldn’t kiss him back either.
And that’s why Seokjin lets go. That’s why Seokjin walks away, crawls into bed, pulls the covers up to his scalp. He doesn’t brush his teeth that night, spends it rolling the lingering taste of pork belly around his tongue.
Seokjin regrets his poor hygiene in the morning. He wakes up when the sun is still peeking at the horizon, a few shy rays invading the bedroom he shares with Taehyung every holiday their families spend together.
The other bed is empty, the way Taehyung left it the day before. He probably slept in the guest room. Seokjin sits up, runs a hand over his tousled hair, feels the incoming headache after a poor sleep kick in.
He drags himself to the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth. Twice.
There’s no shame in the eyes that stare back at him in the mirror.
It’s been at least a decade. Taehyung has the right to know. Seokjin has entertained the thought of confessing his feelings multiple times — even wrote a letter once, when Taehyung was in a glitter gel pen phase. He never delivered it, though. So many fears sprung up for different reasons throughout the years.
This time, Seokjin isn’t afraid.
He didn’t cross a line. He didn’t kiss Taehyung. He just said he wanted to. No crime there. Taehyung is free to reject him. Seokjin hopes, as he pats his face dry with a towel, that Taehyung trusts him enough to be honest as much as Seokjin trusts him.
Returning to the bedroom, he finds Taehyung on the edge of his bed, a cup of hot chocolate on his nightstand.
“Morning.”
His voice breaks. Seokjin, on the other hand, is strangely calm, like it’s not happening to him, like he’s just watching someone else. Maybe he’s in shock, and the weight of what he’s done hasn’t caught up to him yet.
“Hey.” He sits at a safe distance and takes the steaming cup. “Why didn’t you sleep in your bed?”
“I caught Yeontan chewing on a piece of meat under the table. I got worried he might not feel good, so I stayed with him.”
“You slept on the couch?” Taehyung replies with a nod from behind his mug. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah.”
“How about you?”
Taehyung hesitates, wide eyes staring into Seokjin’s.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Each takes a sip, not daring to break eye contact. There’s a curious glint in Taehyung’s gaze, one Seokjin’s never seen before. To avoid succumbing to silence, he chuckles, always one to use humor as an ice breaker.
“I made things awkward, didn’t I?”
Taehyung’s eyes widen even more.
“No, it’s…” He shakes his head, chest puffed with imprisoned air; a few seconds later, he lets it all out in one blow. “Okay, yeah. It’s a little awkward.”
A fraction of tension dissipates when Taehyung smiles back. Nothing like good old honesty to ease the nerves.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It kind of just happened.”
“It’s fine. I overstepped.” He pauses, chooses his words. “I’d never really… Thought about you… About us… That way.”
“I know.”
“But now…” Taehyung gulps. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Seokjin realizes his fearlessness stems from a deeply rooted certainty that Taehyung will refuse him. Rejection has been his closest friend for years, but hope? He feels severely unequipped.
“What?”
“When you… Did that, I thought I’d feel bad. If I didn’t want it, I should have felt awful, right?” Seokjin doesn’t reply, can’t move. “But I didn’t. I felt… Fine. More than fine, actually. I…”
While Seokjin avoided physical contact until then to give him space, he can’t hold back now. He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, finds his palm cold and clammy.
“Taehyung-ah.” He says it so fondly Taehyung can’t refuse him. “Tell me.”
He breathes deeply, straightens his back. Seokjin can’t even blink.
“Maybe…” Taehyung pushes his hair behind his ear, eyes on their hands. “Maybe I want to kiss you too.”
The question comes out as a whisper. “Are you sure?”
Taehyung shrugs. “I won’t know until I try.”
“Right.” Seokjin nods, hyperventilates.
Taehyung melts into a nervous smile, massages his stiff shoulders with his free hand. “Relax. It’s just me.”
“Exactly. It’s you.”
Seokjin lets Taehyung’s sweetness infect him, an impossible warmth runs through his veins. He puts their mugs away and scoots forward, one leg folded on the bed, the other foot on the floor, to remind him that it’s real.
“Stop me any time,” Seokjin murmurs as their foreheads touch, cupping Taehyung’s face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. Taehyung hums a reply, eyelashes fluttering.
They share one last glance before their lips meet. There’s no movement, just their mouths pressed together, absorbing, taking each other in. Taehyung pulls back first, gasping. He breathes, seems surprised at how affected he is. His arms latch onto Seokjin’s neck, keep them close. Seokjin synchronizes their breaths to calm him down.
“We don’t have to do this.”
Taehyung takes a moment to speak again.
“Hyung?”
“Hm?”
He laughs through his nose, blushing cheeks smashed by Seokjin’s hands.
“Can we try again?”
“Of course, baby.”
Seokjin kicks himself for letting the nickname slip, but Taehyung beams, pupils dilating in approval. This time, he’s more eager, parts his lips from the start. Seokjin gives him time to change his mind, but Taehyung pours a whiny moan directly from the back of his throat into his mouth and he collapses.
Things escalate fast. Soon enough, Taehyung’s straddling his lap, back arched up, and Seokjin is pulling him closer, hands on his waist. He knows how Taehyung likes to be kissed, where he likes to be touched, knows they’re a match made in heaven. Now he’s giving Taehyung a glimpse of paradise, and for the lovely sounds he’s making, he likes what he sees.
“We should stop,” Seokjin sighs reluctantly. “Someone will come wake us up for breakfast.”
Taehyung pouts, hands lost in Seokjin’s hair, eyes hooded with desire. There’s a lazy grin on his face, like he’s high and never wants to come down. Seokjin smiles back, weightless, boundless. The real deal is so much more beautiful than his wildest dreams.
“Are you alright?”
Taehyung’s smile lingers, though his voice is serious.
“I’m scared of how good and… Natural this feels. I never thought…”
Seokjin’s thumb finds his moist lips. His eyes follow, entranced. “It’s a lot to process. Take your time.”
“You deserve an answer, hyung.” He sobers up slowly, returns Seokjin’s stare with determination. “I’ll give it to you as soon as I have it.”
“Okay, baby.” Seokjin winces in embarrassment, hides his face in Taehyung’s neck. “Sorry.”
Taehyung laughs, kisses his reddening ear.
“You can call me baby if you keep kissing me like that.”
“Oh…” Seokjin’s head darts back up, a smug grin on his face. “You wanna kiss me so bad, huh?”
They rock back and forth together, cackling.
“You have no idea,” Taehyung replies when the laughter fades, smiling bright enough to rival the sun and all the stars.
From then on, it’s always the same every Chuseok, and every other day of the year. Taehyung kisses Seokjin, and Seokjin kisses him back.