Archive of Our Own

 ***

too sweet — hozier

      In the depths of an old street, where the streetlights shine dimly and the wind drives dusty autumn leaves across the asphalt, there is a small bar. At first glance, there is nothing special about it — just a simple wooden door, a flickering sign, and warm light coming from the window. Many walk by without even noticing it, but those who have peeked inside tend to return for some reason.

Inside, the place looks simple and homely. Brick walls, some painted, some bare, decorated with black-and-white photographs, vinyl records, strange postcards, and notes — as if everyone has left a piece of themselves here. And that’s exactly what’s happened.

Behind the bar stands a tall man with a thick beard and a calm gaze, who seems to know what you need even before you open your mouth. He doesn’t impose himself, but if you want to talk, he’ll tell you how a rare cocktail is made, or how, once, he and a friend smuggled Argentine rum into America for a decent sum and almost ended up in prison for it.

    Isn’t it like… casual?

      The bar doesn’t try to be trendy, noisy, or special. It simply exists. Just the kind of place needed on a cold evening after a long day. A place where you don’t just want to “have a drink,” but simply to be. Among people. Among walls that have witnessed hundreds of conversations. Among the coziness that wasn’t created by designers but grew over time, like a good, living home, absorbing the stories of its temporary inhabitants.

The brunette smiles crookedly at another failed joke from his old friend and takes a small sip of the still slightly cool beer. He surveys the group, noticing how many of them are already a bit tipsy and relaxed. They’ve all known each other for several years, but the group has formed gradually, like a puzzle, piece by piece.

      Inhyuk, for example, joined them by accident a year ago, when Seokjin and Hoseok broke up a fight between him and some unknown huge guy.

      Yoongi joined them two years earlier, thanks to Hoseok's sociability, which one evening brought the gloomy blonde to one of their gatherings at someone’s house.

      Molly's appearance, in general, remains an inexplicable mystery to the man. One day, as he was leaving the tall panoramic building at the end of the workday, he saw a girl sitting on a bench in front of the entrance, quietly crying, holding a burnt-out cigarette. He felt sorry for her as a fellow human, and, placing his hand gently on her thin shoulder, he smiled softly and suggested they have a drink in a pleasant setting and share what’s been bothering them.

      The pedantic Namjoon was not a surprise, but more like something inevitable. Like a meteorite heading for Earth — no matter how you try to avoid it, whether it’s a week, a month, or a decade, it’s going to crash. That’s how Kim joined their little circle on a spring day three years ago, when he came to work for the brunette’s company.

      Sophie was the last person to join the ranks of their desperate crew. Soft and sunny, she walked into the bar arm-in-arm with Molly, who, upon entering, immediately declared that in a company full of brutes, and I quote: “You’re like museum exhibits: you can’t touch them and talking is useless. In short, I need a girlfriend, so your collective male narrow-mindedness doesn’t overwhelm me.”

      No one said a word.

This was the group sitting together today, celebrating the end of a work quarter. Well, at least the brunette, Kim, and Molly were celebrating that. Inhyuk was happy the academic semester was over and he could finally relax without nuclear physics lectures and the burden of being a teaching assistant. Yoongi was drinking for inspiration for his upcoming album, while Hoseok was drinking because alcohol is liquid luck, something that should be consumed once a week to ensure the next week goes even better. Sophie, on the other hand, calmly sipped cold lemonade, politely declining any alcoholic beverages.

       — Fucking hell. That can’t be true! — The brunette turns his head toward Hoseok, who had exclaimed in surprise and was staring wide-eyed at the bar’s door. Just a second later, he jumps up from his seat and rushes over to some guy at the entrance.

Seokjin watches his friend's retreating back with a confused look, then turns his attention back to the table, catching Yoongi's questioning gaze and shrugging lightly in response.

so beautiful — dpr ian

He manages to take just one sip before Hoseok returns, hugging the same guy around the shoulders and flashing a bright smile.

      — You are not gonna believe me. I’ve got kissed by the universe tonight! — The guy with the brown hair continues to smile brightly, glancing with his eyes first at the guy next to him, then at the group of friends. — Yoongi, don’t you recognize?

The blonde finally directs his attention to Hoseok, briefly scanning the softly smiling guy next to him, then a flicker of surprise, confusion, and recognition appears in his eyes.

      — Kim Taehyung? — He frowns slightly, but after a couple of moments, his face lights up with one of the most genuine smiles Seokjin has ever received from him.

      — Hi, hyung. — The deep, low voice with a hint of hoarseness and some unidentifiable accent pours into the brunette’s ears like thick syrup. The blonde gets up from his seat to Seokjin the guy into a tight embrace, and honestly, Kim has never seen Yoongi so emotional. The brunette softly laughs, returning the hug, and gently pats the older man on the back.

      — Guys, let me introduce — the one and only Kim Taehyung. We were at Arts University altogether, though Tae was just two years younger and then moved to France offered a grant study abroad. — Hoseok introduces the guy while their old friends finally break the greeting embrace.

      — Bonsoir, messieurs (Good evening, ladies and gentlemen), — the brunette smiles warmly, — love to meet you all. — He sequentially extends a wide, yet strangely elegant hand with long, thin fingers to shake hands with the men in greeting, and lightly kisses the outstretched hands of the women. — My apologies if it sounds out of hand for you, but I’ve spent two years learning the language under super strict supervision, so it became my second native.

       — Jeez, just say you only wanted to brag. — Hoseok rolls his eyes, laughing warmly.

      — Your French is really nice. Sounds good and almost clear. — Molly says, smiling approvingly.

      — Merci beaucoup, chérie, c’est très aimable de votre part. (Thank you, dear, it’s very kind of you.) — Molly just smiles wider and nods lightly.

      — Will the commoners get the transcript? — The light-haired grunts, drinking his jin.

      — According to etiquette, for commoners, a personal conversation with a wonderful girl is not transferred. — Seokjin doesn’t participate in their conversation, just keeps drinking his beer and smirks to the reply.

      — How did you even end up here? Even with any chance of accidentally ending up here, it's weird because the street isn't the city center. — The blonde tilts his head sympathetically.

      — I was going to meet a friend of mine, but when I entered he texted that he won’t make it and then hyung noticed me. — The brunette calmly shrugs, signaling the waiter to place an order.

The evening continues in a more lively atmosphere. The group shares a bit about themselves with the guy, while also asking about him in return. During the conversation, it turns out that Kim went to study in France because his grandparents live there and needed help with the family house. On top of that, it was a great opportunity to get an education at a prestigious university and learn another language.

      — …We went to la Machine de Moulin Rouge and you literally have no idea what the young bloods do there! — He continues, laughing. — I’m not a saint myself but it’s not just the second floor — toilet cabins were full of experiments too.

      — Ew, we have the same shit going on Itaewon. — Sophie says it with little disgust and a hint of understanding.

Seokjin hasn’t said a word for the rest of the evening except for his name when he extended his hand for a handshake. The brunette sits there, watching the guy, and feels... strange.

      As soon as the guy sat at the table, the atmosphere shifted. It became almost more smoky, blurred, as if someone had sprinkled a dose of opium over the table and everything started to drift.

On one hand, he’s just an ordinary guy, studied alongside his friends, who, for some reason, are very warm toward him and insanely happy to see him.

      But on the other hand…

pyramids — frank ocean

      Sometimes, there’s just a feeling that something’s wrong. You sense that something is off, something like an immense dark spot that you can’t grasp, to push away and breathe easily again.

Seokjin’s gaze slides over the silhouette of the guy sitting across from him. An aristocratic posture, even when he simply takes a sip from his glass, as if he swallowed a whole stick, barely noticeable raised eyebrows when he casts a glance at the nearby tables, a calm, mocking look that never leaves his eyes during comments around the table, and thin, almost artificially sculpted Greek-sculptor fingers that elegantly adjust the dark fringe falling over his eyes from laughter.

      His eyes slowly drift to the face. The brunette sits with an expression that doesn’t require words or effort to be noticed. Too much. He himself, his face, and his whole appearance — everything about him is too much. For this place, for these people. Too harmonious, too elegant, too perfect.

      Inside, something unpleasant tugs — not out of envy, not out of irritation, but from something more subtle, more frightening, as if you’ve been caught in the silence of a dark room.

Looking at this guy is like staring at a flame. You can’t look away, even though you know you’ll get burned if you get too close.

       — I love that French people aren’t burdened by human stereotypes, — says the guy after another sip of some recklessly expensive wine. — I mean, yes, they hate the English because of the primitive history, and they absolutely don’t consider English to be a real language, but when it comes to the human factor — they’re free. — He runs his fingers through his hair again, pushing it back so it doesn’t get in the way. — I’ve probably never felt such freedom. Let’s be honest, if you say the word "sex" out loud in Korea somewhere on the street, surrounded by people over thirty, you’ll be bombarded with looks worse than stones, and on top of that, they’ll shower you with insults like “ill-mannered” and “perverted.” But in France, you’re not restricted in expressing yourself and your feelings. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but I’ve dated both girls and guys, and in neither case did I feel like there was something I couldn’t do because someone might see. It helped me think broader and freer in general. So now, it’s pretty amusing to watch people’s reactions to the things I say or the thoughts I share, because they think it’s crazy.

The guys encourage him to continue sharing his thoughts, and then enthusiastically discuss it.

      The brunette, however, feels the echoes of light anger rising in his chest.

      But not at the guy. At himself. For the fact that his heart is beating faster in that moment. For all those thoughts that crept into his mind when he mentioned relationships with a man.

Seokjin immediately grimaces and forces them out. He suppresses them. Replaces them. It’s not his business. It doesn’t concern him. Why should he care about someone else’s bed? Hoseok alone was enough with his constant “I’m searching for myself” and endless experiments.

      He doesn’t care.

      Taehyung is just a guy. Just well-groomed. Just handsome. Just too extravagant. Just too attention-grabbing. Just too much.

He throws another glance at the brunette. He’s now enthusiastically talking about something to Molly, Inhyuk, and Sophie, while the others discuss something among themselves. He’s seeing the guy for the first time today, but it feels like he’s been irritating him for an eternity.

      All because Seokjin knows that this guy is a total mistake.

      Something very much painful, bitter and dooming. Something that will make his life very, very hard, going over him like a high-speed train and then reversing just to go back once again to make sure he has demolished him fully.

    The brunette blinks a couple of times and stands up to disappear toward the restroom. When he comes back, feeling slightly refreshed from washing his face with cold water, he doesn’t find Him with his gaze.

      Did he leave already?

Kim slightly shakes his head, trying to push the unwelcome thoughts out again, and, after saying goodbye to each of his friends with wishes for a good weekend, leaves the bar.

thorn in my side — nik ammar

       The cool street air gently hits his face, filling his lungs with freshness. The brunette squints his eyes, stretching his neck.

      — Already leaving? — A hoarse yet somewhat melodic voice comes from somewhere to the left.

      Seokjin opens his eyes and turns his head, meeting the gaze of the relaxed brunette who’s smoking thin cigarettes with hints of mint while simultaneously texting someone on his phone.

      — Yes, — Seokjin nods in agreement, though Taehyung isn’t looking at him, focused solely on the glowing screen of his device. — Have a good evening. — He turns to leave, but is stopped by the same deep voice.

      — You didn’t even say how old you are. — Taehyung finally looks away from the screen, though doesn’t turn it off, taking another drag. — You didn’t say anything at all this evening.

      — Does it matter? We’re probably not going to see each other again. — The brunette shrugs, whether from another gust of wind or the persistent, focused gaze on him.

      — You have no idea how small the world is. — Taehyung smirks. — Besides, I’m staying in Korea for the next couple of months. Who knows, maybe fate will bring us together again? — He pulls the corners of his mouth into something that should be a smile but comes out more as a clear smirk.

      — I don’t believe in fate.

      — That’s exactly why I’m curious to know how old you are. — The phone screen has long since gone dark, so the guy starts spinning it between his fingers, taking another drag.

      — Enough for you to call me "sonbae." — The brunette responds, watching as the guy simply scoffs at this.

      — You don’t look old enough for me to call you "sonbae." — He tilts his head, squinting mischievously. — But I’m asking because your age will explain why and what you think about different things and help me understand you better.

      Kim raises an eyebrow in indignation, which makes the brunette genuinely smile. — I’m twenty-six.

      Taehyung nods to himself and puts out his cigarette, standing up. — Then see you, hyung.

      — Really doubt that. — The brunette scoffs one last time, turning toward the road, leaving the dark street lit by a couple of warm streetlights behind him, unaware of the gleaming look the guy at the bar entrance is giving him.

      — Oui, on verra, petite étoile. Le destin tisse des liens que même le temps ne peut défaire. Comment se fait-il alors que chaque rencontre ne soit jamais un hasard? — His low voice is heard in a muffled whisper just before the wooden door creaks open to let the slightly chilled guy inside.

      We’ll see, little star. Destiny weaves bonds that even time cannot untie. How can it be that every meeting is not by accident?

***

closer to you — jk

      — I don’t understand what I’m doing here. — Seokjin dodges as a guy exhales cigarette smoke straight into his face.

      How rude.

       — You came to relax and unwind a little, — Hoseok continues dragging him deeper into the house.

      — Among a bunch of stoned, high, and drunk punks? — Kim grimaces, maneuvering around a couple making out against the wall. — Objectively, this doesn’t sound like a relaxing place.

      — Stop grumbling, — Hoseok huffs, turning a corner and rolling his eyes, even though his friend can’t see it. — Just because you're twenty-six doesn't mean you have to rot at home under a blanket with a dime-store novel.

       — What’s so wrong with relaxing at home in a cozy environment and expanding your intellectual horizons? — the brunette shakes his head.

      — Absolutely nothing. But sometimes, time can be spent differently, — Hoseok stops in front of a door. How does he even know where he's going? Feels like there are a thousand rooms in this house. — Welcome to the fun, — the redhead opens the door and pulls Seokjin in after him.

The brunette finds himself in a large, spacious room that opens into a kitchen on one side and a balcony on the other. A quick glance around shows a wide staircase leading to the second floor. The space is filled with rhythmic music — loud but not ear-shattering — and crowded with young people laughing, talking, dancing, drinking, kissing, and playing games.

      — This way, — Hoseok nods toward a group of people forming a loose circle near a couch, deep in some kind of discussion.

      — I’d rather go home, — Seokjin exhales weakly before the redhead pulls him along again, this time toward the group.

      — Hey everyone! — Jeong greets them cheerfully, receiving warm smiles in return. — I brought some fresh grumbling blood. Dig in.

      — Jinnie, hi! — Sophie waves happily from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet, leaning against a laid-back Yoongi.

       — Hi, Phie, — Kim tries to force a smile that doesn’t look too fake, though the whole atmosphere and location make him feel nothing but disgust and an overwhelming desire to leave. He's not sure if his smile works or if he even cares.

      — Come on, sit, — Hoseok presses down on his shoulders, making him sit on the couch next to a smiling brunette who looks about five years younger than him. — I’ll grab you a drink. What do you want?

      — Can I have some water? — Kim asks, with a hint of hopeless optimism. 

      — I’ll bring you vodka with juice, — Hoseok rolls his eyes again and heads off toward the kitchen, greeting a guy leaning against the wall, typing something on his phone.

Seokjin closes his eyes for a moment, trying to gather himself and brace for the next couple of hours, because clearly, Hoseok isn’t letting him leave anytime soon. He glances around the group and recognizes only Sophie and Yoongi, who are now heatedly arguing about something.

      — Is this your first time here? — A pleasant male voice speaks from his right. Seokjin turns to face him and meets a pair of deep brown eyes, kind and framed by gentle smile lines.

      — Yeah, — Seokjin nods. — Not that I wanted to be here, but I didn’t get much of a choice. He throws a sharp glance toward the kitchen, hoping to spot a familiar light-haired head — and if possible, burn a hole through it.

done for me — charlie puth

      — I can say, — the guy on his right laughs softly at Seokjin’s expression, and the sound is, so far, the only thing in this room that doesn't irritate him. — I'm Jungkook. — He extends his hand, and the brunette shakes it.

      — Kim Seokjin.

      — So, we are formal, — the guy grins wider, his front teeth showing and giving his smile a rabbit-like look. — Well then, I'm Jeon. Jeon Jungkook, twenty-three years old, graduated with honors from Seoul National University’s Economics Department, currently working at CAO Motors, Virgo by zodiac sign, a great son, grandson, brother, friend — and just an all-around amazing guy.

      Seokjin stares at him for a few seconds, eyebrows slightly raised, before letting out a faint chuckle and giving a small smile, shaking his head. — You can call me Jin-hyung, amazing guy.

      — Much better, hyung, — Jungkook nods approvingly and takes a sip from a branded beer bottle.

      — What are they playing? — Seokjin watches with interest as people pass cards around.

      — Started with UNO to kill time. Now it’s something like “Two Truths and a Lie,” but with extra twists, — Jungkook shrugs. — I didn’t really get into the rules; I’m just waiting for a friend.

      Seokjin nods in understanding. — Who's your friend?

       — Oh, — Jungkook chuckles, taking another sip from the bottle, — the weirdest person you'll ever meet.

      The brunette raises an inquisitive eyebrow but doesn’t get a chance to respond — Hoseok appears, handing him a glass filled with alcohol.

      — Alright, I think we can begin, — the redhead walks to the center of the room, drawing the attention of everyone gathered in the circle. — Everyone knows the rules? You draw a card — answer a question or complete a task. Depends on what’s written. If you refuse or can't do it — take a shot. Three shots, and you're out. Whoever makes it through without drinking once wins and gets one wish granted by anyone in the group they choose. Questions?

      — Mon cher hyung, maybe you should drink a little? You seem nervous, — a mocking voice calls out from the balcony.

Seokjin flinches slightly, tensing up. That damn voice. He tries not to turn toward the source, but he feels the presence of the person with every fiber of his being. The smooth footsteps are lost under the hum of music, but the brunette just knows he’s walking toward the couch, and whatever slight lift in mood he had drops again.

      — Jungkook-ah, can you scoot over? — The voice is much closer than he expected. Seokjin lowers his gaze and sees a belt buckle on a pair of jeans in front of him but doesn’t lift his head.

      — Nope, — Jeon squints mischievously and shrugs. — Grab the other side, French waistcoat. I’ve just made a new friend here.

Seokjin isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he feels a faint breath brushing over his hair. The scent of mint cigarettes, subtle but distinct. He watches slim fingers ruffle Jungkook’s hair gently, but with a trace of reprimand.

      — Petit coquin, — the guy exhales and sits down next to his friend on the other side.

      — Ah, hyung, spare me the fancy insults, — Jungkook ducks away from a playful smack and giggles.

      — Little brat. Is that easier to understand? — the brunette mutters beside him.

      — See? You can speak in your mother tongue.

      — Clockwise, — Hoseok continues, apparently taking a small shot himself after Kim’s remark. — We’ll start with Hani.

world class sinner — lily-rose depp

      The girl nods and reaches for the shuffled cards to draw one. — What would you do if tomorrow no one judged you for anything? — She presses her lips together in thought.
— I think I’d walk through the city with a sign that says: “I believe that starting a family and having children is a choice — and in our world, it’s the wrong one. Because our government is a bunch of fat-assed, greedy donkeys clinging to their wealth as if it will redeem their sins after death.” She pauses, then adds. — Or even better — I’d plaster that message across every billboard in the city. — She sets the card aside, earning approving and understanding looks from the group.

      The next question goes to a guy with gray hair whom Seokjin doesn’t recognize. — If you could forget one person forever — who would it be? — The guy answers calmly, and the turn passes to Yoongi, then to Sophie. Everyone responds to their questions with ease, no sign of embarrassment. Then it's Taehyung’s turn.

      The guy reaches for a card.
— Have you ever been a third wheel — by choice? — He pauses for a moment, then chuckles. — If we’re talking about regular relationships, then no. But if we’re talking about sexual ones… then maybe I have. — He shrugs, not looking the least bit ashamed. — There was this one time, in Nice, with my two friends. We got really drunk and had way too much fun. They kept dancing around each other, wouldn’t admit they wanted to be together. So somehow, we ended up... having fun as a trio. — He grins, squinting slightly. — I might have been the one who nudged things in that direction. It was great — we actually worked really well together. But at some point, I just realized I needed to leave them alone, so they could figure things out for themselves. So I did. — He shrugs again and places the card in the used pile.

Jungkook says nothing, while the others glance around at each other, intrigued. Someone leans over to Kim to ask for more details, but Seokjin isn’t listening.

A wave of quiet irritation and discomfort washes over him as the image of Taehyung and his friends having fun together pops into his mind. He rolls his shoulders and shakes his head. It’s none of my business. The fact that Taehyung is this shameless and reckless — it has nothing to do with him.

But still, Seokjin feels something dark bubbling up inside him, something thick and heavy, and he wants to scrub it off. He hasn’t looked at the guy this entire time, but just the fact that Taehyung exists within his vicinity is enough to make him feel utterly uncomfortable.

      — Jin-hyung? — Jungkook’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. — Your turn. — The brunette nods toward the stack of cards, and Seokjin leans forward to take one.

      — What’s the dirtiest thought you’re hiding right now? — The brunette blinks a few times, rereading the question.

      Fucking shit. Fucking game. Fucking question.

      — Um... none? — Kim says, more asking than answering, eyes darting around nervously at the people now watching him with interest — especially one of them.

       — Oh, come on, hyung, — Hoseok scoffs. — I’m sure there’s something juicy swirling around in that ever-busy brain of yours.

      — Does reading a romance novel count? — He shrinks inwardly from the awkwardness of the question — and from the amount of attention focused on him. Somewhere nearby, he hears a faint chuckle, but he refuses to so much as glance in that direction.

      — You’ve got to be kidding me, — Hoseok rolls his eyes seemingly for the thousandth time tonight.

      — You can say what you told me earlier, — Sophie suggests suddenly. — I think that would count. She nods, encouragingly. — Or… you can take a shot.

      Seokjin sighs and nods. — I’ll take the shot.
Sophie hands it to him, and he downs it quickly.

From there, someone else draws a challenge, another person takes a shot instead of answering a tricky question, but Seokjin isn’t paying attention. Hoseok, meanwhile, casually shares stories of his wild adventures.

TiO — zayn

As the second round begins, Kim watches Hani share her worst romantic experience, the gray-haired guy takes a drink, Sophie kisses some girl, Yoongi downs a shot, and Taehyung unbuttons his silk shirt, leaving his upper body bare. Even with clothes on, he looks like he was sculpted according to an artist’s standards. The brunette starts to get mad at his own broken brain, presses his lips together, and turns away, watching as Jungkook reads the next challenge.

      — Kiss the person you feel closest to in the group. — Jungkook starts laughing and throws a meaningful look at the brunette.
— Hyung, it’s like the card knew I’ve always dreamed of making out French-style with a true — French representative. He breaks into even louder laughter as the brunette rolls his eyes.

      — Screw off, couche (diaper).

      — Come here, my favorite frog, — the brunette dramatically reaches out toward his friend, who quickly pushes him away.

      — Drink your shot, romantique inachevé (hopeless romantic).

       Jungkook sighs in mock disappointment and downs the drink. — You're ruining the mood, Monsieur Baguette. You’ve crushed my dream.

Seokjin can’t suppress a small smile at Jungkook’s antics and reaches for his own card.

      — Say one sentence that will definitely hit someone in the circle — no names. Let them guess. — Kim bites his lip, glancing around the circle, and then unexpectedly snorts with amusement. — I’ve never run half-naked across campus on a dare and almost gotten expelled for it.

      — Damn it, hyung! — Hoseok exclaims in outrage.

      — The only thing that hit you below the belt was the security guard trying to catch you, — Seokjin counters, placing the card in the used pile, earning laughter from the group. — Right on the butt, and dead-on target.

      — Kim Seokjin! — the redhead howls dramatically as the group bursts into louder laughter.

The game continues, picking up steam as most players are now several drinks in. After three people are knocked out of the game, Seokjin has already taken two shots — and the only one still completely sober is that infuriating brunette.

      — Act out a flirting scene with someone in the circle. Seriously, — the brunette reads his task aloud. He scans the group and stops on… him. A jolt runs through Seokjin’s body, and he flinches involuntarily.

He holds the stare — that stare that feels like it’s reaching straight into his soul, rummaging through it, making itself at home, buzzing like it belongs there.

      Wrong.

      It’s wrong that he’s reacting this way.

      It’s stupid and wrong.

He wants to look away, but the eyes across from him seem to hold him in place like magnets — heavy and inescapable. He can’t even blink.
So it takes Seokjin a moment to realize the brunette is speaking. The words come to him slowly, as if through a vacuum.

pillowtalk — zayn

      — I can’t tell what you’re thinking… but for some reason, I feel like it’s about me. — The brunette pushes stray hair from his face in a fluid motion, and Seokjin feels as if his expression becomes something intimate. — I’m not sure if you’re doing it on purpose, petite étoile, but the result gives me goosebumps beneath my skin. — His voice deepens further, gaze darkens. — You can pretend you don’t want it, cher, but your eyes betray you. You want to be read like a book. Not from the first page, but straight from the highlighted lines.
His slender fingers lightly trace the contour of his lips, then the tip of his index finger gently appears between his teeth. — You’re always afraid and hovering on the edge, between your desires and my heart, but you can’t decide what to do next. — A faint smile blooms on his lips, carrying nothing good, and a chill runs down the brunette’s spine. — If only you could loosen the reins of your restraint and give voice… I'll give in and come to you, listening to it in the dark, in the silence, up close. — His voice remains audible to everyone in the circle, but sinks to a low, seductive tone, as if a siren is calling a lost sailor into her grasp.

Seokjin feels like one of those sailors — so foolish, so naive, with a wayward soul. He still can’t look away from the guy who’s hypnotizing him with his gaze. Everything feels so wrong.

      The walls seem to press in, air is scarce, his head throbs, and inside he’s burning with warning signals telling him he mustn’t do this because it’s dangerous, reckless, and wrong.

      — Holy shit, Taehyung. — Hoseok exclaims, breaking the spell and sparing Seokjin from slow destruction.

      — Yeah, hyung, that was impressive. — Jeon responds, while the others are still in awe of the brunette’s performance.

A moment passes, then the game continues, but Seokjin remains buzzing from the aftershock of what Taehyung said. It feels like pure truth. And it terrifies him. Worst of all is the loud contradiction echoing inside him from that voice, those words, that look that’s enveloped him completely, offering no illusion of escape.

He shakes himself, trying to collect his thoughts and think of something rational.

      — I think we can all agree that Taehyung is today’s winner, — Hoseok announces, for no one in particular—the circle is a blur of lazy blinks and serene expressions. — Congratulations, Tae. — He ceremoniously extends his hand for a “high five,” which Taehyung promptly returns. — Now you can choose any player to perform your wish.

      The brunette nods and buttoning his shirt, scans the group quickly but avoids lingering eye contact. — Sophie, — he inclines his head slightly toward his left shoulder and squints with satisfaction, — kiss Yoongi for two minutes. You can go into another room if it's easier.

Seokjin blinks in surprise, shifts his gaze from a bewildered Hoseok to Sophie, whose expression is priceless — surprise, shock, confusion, and embarrassment all at once.

      What kind of game is he playing?

       The girl presses her lips together and nods toward the balcony, then the two of them slowly rise and disappear behind the door.

      — Anyone else want another drink? — Despite the shift in atmosphere just moments ago, Hoseok looks enthusiastic again, tipsy with sparkles in his eyes.

      Seokjin shakes his head; no one notices, so he runs his fingers over his dark jeans and stands up. — I think I’ll head out. I’m a bit tired. — He turns to the brunette sitting next to him and offers his hand. — Bye, Jungkook, it was nice meeting you.

      The junior smiles and shakes his hand. — Likewise, hyung. Good night.

      — You too. — Seokjin returns a faint smile, brushes past the remaining group, giving Hoseok a friendly tap on the shoulder, ignoring his invitation to stay longer. He squeezes through the lingering, cheerful, tipsy crowd, and by memory finds his way out of the house onto the street.

A slightly cold November wind slips under his coat, and he sighs tiredly. The faint echo of music still hums in his ears, and his heart races with an uneven rhythm.

He doesn’t notice the door opening behind him and flinches when an elegant hand lands on his shoulder.

      — Let me drive you home. — The deep voice pierces his thoughts, blowing any remaining thoughts from his mind.

      — No thanks. I’ll call a taxi. — Seokjin doesn’t even turn around. He already knows who it is. it only gets colder thinking about it than from the autumn wind.

      — At this hour it’s too late—you won’t get a taxi for at least half an hour. — The hand disappears as suddenly as it appeared, and Seokjin hears a lighter click and the faint scent of tobacco and mint.

       He opens the ride app to find a car, but after a few minutes realizes the guy was right. The nearest ride is over forty minutes away. He frowns, pouting, and sighs. — Did you drink much?

       — I didn’t drink. — Seokjin turns his head in surprise and meets the relaxed brunette, one hand in his pocket, the other typing on his phone. His jacket is unbuttoned, the silk shirt’s collar fluttering in the breeze.

      And how is he not cold?

      — What about Jungkook? — Seokjin tucks his phone into his back pocket.

      — He’s already found something else to occupy himself. — The brunette still looks relaxed, pockets his phone into his jacket and nods toward inside. — Let’s go.

They walk a few meters and stop by a black Mercedes. Seokjin wants to laugh at how cliché it is, but he simply waits for the owner to unlock it and slides into the passenger seat.

Despite who it belongs to, Seokjin unexpectedly feels very comfortable inside. The faint scent of mint lingers in the cabin, and the gentle hum of the engine vibrates soothingly through the soft interior.

      — Where to? — The brunette drives off the driveway and glides smoothly onto the road.

      — Myeong-dong 13. — Seokjin replies, and the guy nods, indicating he knows the route. They drive in companionable silence for a while.

Seokjin watches trees passing by, followed by low residential buildings framed by streetlights, people choosing to stay awake at this hour.

      — You think I was wrong. — The low, deep voice interrupts his observation, pulling his attention back.

       Seokjin turns to face him. — I think you had no right to interfere in someone else’s relationships.

      — I didn’t interfere. — The guy answers calmly, shrugging.

      — You made friends kiss against their wishes. — Seokjin frowns.

      — I didn’t force anyone, — the brunette smiles, merging into traffic. — Desire isn’t an order. If they didn’t want it, they’d just refuse and not sneak off to the balcony together. — He stops at a red light and turns to Seokjin. — I just created a condition where both could fulfill their desire without taking responsibility cause that is what people fear the most, holds them back.

       Seokjin squints. — You seem to think you’re the smartest guy in the room who can do whatever you want without regard.

      The guy laughs softly, showing flawless teeth, and shakes his head. — And you think that’s a bad thing. — The car starts moving again. — I’m not meddling in others’ lives, not playing God, not ruining anything. I just help when I see I can. I’ve said before that people often feel restricted, feel they have no right to even try something they want. — He turns into Seokjin’s neighborhood. — I just don’t see those limits cause I don’t care. You only get one life, one youth. Why deny yourself living it how you want?

      — Because there are boundaries. — Seokjin notices they’ve arrived; the ride took about half an hour and he hadn’t realized.

      — As long as you're not breaking laws, trampling rights or morals, boundaries exist only in your head. — The brunette shifts the car into park, rolls down the window and lights a cigarette.

      — Without boundaries, you destroy yourself—your brain breaks because you start believing you can do anything. Like—for example—smoking. — Seokjin watches the cigarette between the guy’s fingers. — If you had boundaries, you’d know you can’t cross the smoking line. It makes you a hostage of a drug that causes cancer and kills you.

      He meets the mock-dark eyes glancing at him. The brunette smirks and inhales again. — Even existence causes cancer. You can’t fully protect yourself from it no matter how hard you try. So what difference does it make whether you're a hostage or not? You're a hostage either — way one more factor, one less. Does it matter?

      — That’s too much existential cynicism. — Seokjin snorts, reaching for the car door.

      — And you have too much detachment and asceticism. — The brunette sweeps back his hair. — You’re too bound by a morality only you understand.

      Seokjin pouts unhappily. — Thanks for the ride. — He opens the door, eager to escape the awkward atmosphere.

       — I meant everything I said tonight, hyung. — The words follow him like an arrow. — It was good to see you again.

      — Goodbye, Taehyung. — Seokjin exhales and steps out.

      — We’ll meet again, étoile. — The door closes gently, and keys press into his palm, but his pounding heart outpaces even that grip. Because he fears that next time, he may not resist.

***

beanie — chezile

February snowflakes play tag in the air, turning the city into a white kingdom.

A brunette sits in a café not far from his office, listening to a petite girl with dark hair animatedly recount her family trip to the Alps last year.

Seokjin’s had enough relationships in his life to have gained some experience and insight into how people work.

His first girlfriend appeared in his last year of high school. He was seventeen at the time, his head filled only with thoughts of entrance exams and getting into university, but Mira came into his life like a sudden snowfall — charming, open, and impossible to ignore. They dated for just over six months and broke up before graduation, realizing their paths were splitting: Mira went to study in Tokyo, and Seokjin was accepted to Seoul National University. Looking back years later, he realized it had been a teenage infatuation, but it never turned into love.

His next girlfriend came in the second semester of his first year. Her name was Yuri. A beautiful, popular, and kind. She was also the class representative. Seokjin enjoyed being with her because she never demanded or expected anything, always calm and understanding. But after a few months, that became the problem. One day it hit him that he didn’t really know her at all, even though they shared not just a bed, but daily life together. Yuri never talked about her family, never opened up, never asked for advice. Nothing. N-o-t-h-i-n-g.

Later, he found out there were also Mooyeon, Bogyeom, and Ilseon. The breakup was quick, and Seokjin can’t say he suffered much. Turned out, he never truly developed strong feelings for her in the first place.

Minni appeared during his third year. She was a transfer student and looked lost and lonely, so Seokjin, feeling sorry for her, offered to help her settle into the city. She turned out to be very artistic and poetic, and being around her felt like touching something elevated. You could say it was his most stable and sincere relationship. They understood each other deeply, shared harmony… but there was no passion. They both realized it after a year when they finally tried to sleep together neither of them could spark. They broke up as friends and stayed in touch for a while, but when Minni graduated and returned to her home country, they lost contact.

no one noticed — the marías

Kathy was a foreigner who worked at the first company Seokjin joined. She had been assigned to train him and introduce him to the basics of the job. They quickly became friends, and a couple of months later, they accidentally slept together at a corporate party. After that, they decided to try dating. Things were good. Mutual understanding, chemistry, sex, everything, but after a year, when Kathy told him she loved him, Seokjin couldn’t say it back. That clearly broke her heart, and not wanting to drag things out, he suggested they break up and left the company shortly after.

He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since. Just short flings and mutual convenience meetups and nothing more. Seokjin often revisits his past relationships, trying to understand what exactly went wrong.

      It was love.

      There was no love.

      He had never loved any of them.

      And that felt like a kind of sentence.

      Because how could he have been in relationships and not loved any of those people?

He loved his family. He loved Hoseok. He loved Yoongi. He loved Molly. He loved all his other friends. But not his girlfriends, who deserved love too.

Once, Hoseok told him: “You’re probably the kind of person who falls in love once in a lifetime. It doesn’t matter if you stay with that person forever or not, but your heart belongs only to them. That just means you haven’t met them yet.”

It’s been two years since that conversation. Since then, Seokjin has kept an eye out, paid attention to anyone he might feel a spark with. But nothing ever came.

      So… he simply stopped hoping that it ever would.

The girl sitting across from him now was one of Hoseok’s many acquaintances. Hoseok had gotten tired of his quote-unquote: "You’re rotting alone in four walls, not seeing daylight, only going out for work. You need to socialize, engage with people, let the multifaceted world in, not just your sappy romance drafts."

Seokjin didn’t agree, but as usual, he had no say in the matter, so he ended up going on the “date.”

      The problem wasn’t the girl — she was perfectly fine.

      The problem was that he simply didn’t care.

      He hadn’t even remembered her name because she didn’t stir a single emotion in him.

She was just like all the others — polished, perfect figure, posture, nice perfume, flawless makeup and hair even in this blizzard, brand-name clothing, and a boring story about the Alps.

He doesn’t want to offend her, so he just politely nods and smiles at her stories, occasionally throwing in comments so he doesn’t seem completely indifferent.

By the end of the evening, he feels a universal sense of relief — grateful that he won’t have to spend any more time with a stranger, and looking forward to going home and telling Hoseok: “I’m too much of an asshole for a girl that good.”

He pays the bill, and they step out onto the street to wait for the taxi he ordered, as a way of apologizing to the brunette for wasting her time.

He checks the app again but is suddenly bumped hard in the shoulder. He just barely manages to catch his phone before it shatters on the pavement.

Seokjin turns around, ready to scold whoever it was and freezes.

A faint scent of minty tobacco hits his nose. In front of him stands a dark-haired man, snowflakes caught in his curls, and that same ever-present smirk in his eyes.

      — Hello, étoile, — says that deep voice. The one that gives him chills every time he hears it. — Didn’t see you there. Sorry.  

      — Oh, Jin-hyung, hey! — says the guy standing beside him. Seokjin hadn't even noticed him at first, but he recognizes him now as the friendly brunette from the party a few months ago.

      — Hi, Jungkook. — He answers the younger man’s warm smile, still a bit flustered, then turns his eyes back to the man beside him. —  Taehyung.

Dark eyes framed by falling black bangs watch him intently, as if studying him. Maybe it’s just a trick of the evening streetlights, but Seokjin could swear he sees sparks flickering deep in their depths.

llpy — nessa barrett

      — Jinnie, is the taxi here yet? — The girl’s voice pulls him out of his daze, her hand gently wraps around his wrist.

      — Ah, sorry, just a moment. — He opens the app again, finds the license plate, and escorts her to the car, receiving a polite kiss on the cheek and a “thank-you” for the evening.

When he returns to the guys who, apparently, have been waiting for him. He feels in his very bones that something has shifted.

      Seokjin hunches his shoulders slightly. — Are you guys in a hurry to go somewhere?

      — Not exactly…

      — Was that a date? — Taehyung's deep voice cuts in, rougher now.

      — Um, — Seokjin’s eyes flick from one guy to the other, searching for a safe spot to land, — kind of, yeah. — He shrugs, casually, trying to defend himself from the piercing gaze that feels like it’s digging straight into his bones.

The brunette squints slightly and says nothing more, but somehow, that feels worse. Even when Seokjin turns his attention back to Jungkook, he can still feel the weight of that stare boring into him like a hole in his side. It burns and freezes all at once his body intact, but his heart trapped in a cage of panic and pain.

      — Anyway, — Jungkook continues, — we’re heading to Hobi-hyung’s. He’s throwing a chill get-together, just a few mutual friends. You probably know some of them.

      — Got it, — Seokjin nods, offering a weak smile. — Have a good night then.

      He’s about to turn and head home, but Jungkook frowns in confusion. — You’re not coming with us?

      — Well, for starters, I wasn’t invited. — He shivers slightly, this time from the cold. — And besides, I’m really tired.

      — Come on, hyung, — Jungkook shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh. — I’m sure Hobi-hyung just assumed your date would last longer than it did.

       Seokjin knows he’s right. He presses his lips together, starting to feel a little irritated that the burning stare still hasn’t eased up. — Either way, I think I’d rather go home.

      Jungkook sighs, clicks his tongue, then steps up and throws an arm around Seokjin’s shoulders. —  Come on with us. It’ll be fun. Or at least cozy. And I’m pretty sure something’s bothering you. And what helps with the blues more than good company and a gorgeous guy by your side? — He winks playfully, and Seokjin scoffs but lets out the tiniest smile.

      They get to Hoseok’s place pretty quickly.

Or maybe it just feels quick because despite Taehyung’s heavy silence, Jungkook keeps the group entertained with silly stories and jokes, as if he doesn’t notice the oppressive tension hanging over them like a cloud.

Hoseok greets them with a bright smile. He doesn’t ask questions and just helps everyone take off their coats and leads them inside.

Seokjin quickly realizes this “small get-together” includes about ten more people than it should.

He sighs and separates from the group, heading over to Namjoon, who’s peacefully reading a book in the corner, nodding along to music in his headphones.

Seokjin plops down beside him on a small, soft couch and rests his head on the other’s shoulder. Namjoon flinches slightly at the surprise contact, but when he sees who it is, he nudges Seokjin’s head affectionately and returns to reading.

To Seokjin’s surprise, the room is filled with soft, melodic music. People are just chatting with no chaos, no one intruding on anyone’s space.

He closes his eyes, letting himself relax for a moment.

His mind drifts through the past week…

Things he needs to do next week…

That forgettable date…

That he needs to call his parents…

To buy Hoseok a birthday present…

And…

…and the burning eyes that looked at him like he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life…
but still hadn’t realized it.

undressed — sombr

He couldn’t fully relax, so instead, he tries to tune in to the faint traces of music leaking from his friend’s headphones, until a hand gently touches his shoulder, softly stroking it.

He cracks one eye open and saw Hoseok leaning over him, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

      — Are you okay? — His voice is unusually quiet.

The brunette blinks in response, not having the energy to form a real answer.

      — So the date didn’t go well, huh? — The guy keeps gently rubbing his shoulder, receiving a silent confirmation in the depth of honey-brown eyes staring back at him.

      Again not. Sorry. Thanks for caring.

      Hoseok nods in understanding, not looking the least bit upset. — Go to the back room. The one farthest down the hall. No one's there. You can stay the night and get some sleep.

Seokjin blinks slowly and offers a faint smile, signaling he will. Suddenly, he has no energy left at all.

      He is so tired.

He gathers himself piece by piece and slowly gets up, heading in the direction he already knew by heart. He’d been here a hundred times before.

Down the long hallway, past familiar walls, he finally stops in front of the right door. The music is barely audible now, and, just as Hoseok said, there isn’t a soul around. Seokjin steps inside, immediately enveloped by the cozy silence of the room.

Everything is just as always. The faint scent of lavender and freshness, a large bed, a fluffy armchair, a coffee table, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and complete darkness.

He blinks drowsily, closes the door behind him, pulls off the now-suffocating sweater, and walks to the wardrobe to grab the set of home clothes he always kept here. Slowly, he slips into a T-shirt and swaps his pants for something more comfortable.

      — Suddenly, this evening is starting to look much nicer. — The voice makes him jump in fright, all his drowsiness instantly gone.

      — What the hell?!— Seokjin clutches his chest before squinting into the darkness — only then realizing Taehyung is sitting in the corner armchair, nearly blending into the furniture in the unlit room.

      — Sorry, étoile. I didn’t think you’d actually miss that someone else was here. — The brunette leans forward and flicks on the ceiling lights — tiny, scattered bulbs across the ceiling that don’t do much in the way of brightness, but make the room feel slightly warmer and more defined.

      — That’s incredibly rude of you, — Seokjin mutters, crossing his arms.

      — What did I do? — In the dim light, Seokjin cann’t make out his expression, but the mocking tone in his voice is clear — laced with a subtle slur that hinted at alcohol.

      — You watched me while I was changing and didn’t say a word. Didn’t let me know you were in here. — Seokjin presses his lips together in irritation, frowning harder.

       — I wasn’t watching you. I just happened to find myself in a very lucky, unexpected situation. — Taehyung shrugs. — How was I supposed to know I’d get this lucky?

Seokjin stares at him for a few seconds but says nothing. He just shakes his head and walks over to the bed. He pulls off his socks and sits down with his back to Taehyung, letting out a heavy sigh and running his fingers through his hair.

      Neither of them says a word after that. Silence settled again, and just as Seokjin feels the overwhelming weight of fatigue beginning to return. — Could you leave? — he asks, rubbing his face with both hands. — I came here to sleep. Hoseok said the room would be empty.

The brunette doesn’t respond, but Seokjin hears the rustle of the armchair’s fabric, then a few quiet footsteps. He braces himself for the soft click of the door closing behind him,  but instead, he feels the bed dip beside him.

He doesn’t say anything. But inside, a gnawing unease begins to rise — a quiet, heavy anticipation that something disastrous is about to happen.

the beach — the neighborhood

The brunette catches familiar notes of mint and this time, cinnamon too, like the kind used in homemade baking. A strange combination, but pleasant. The contrast of scents plays with each other, revealing the contrast within the boy beside him.

Free as if woven from restless wind. Open as though the right to exist as he pleases is his by birth. He pulls the air out of any room and fills it completely with himself.

      He’s irritating and frightening.

Because he is always too much. Too present around his friends. Too overwhelming in a shared space. Too heavy in his gaze. Too loud in the mind from the sound of his voice.

      Seokjin rubs at his eyes with frustration. That gaze again.

      Leave. Leave. Leave.

      — Why are you still here? — It comes out quietly, with a touch of resignation.

      — I was here first, cher, — that mocking voice answers, just as softly.

Seokjin doesn’t respond. He only nods faintly, beginning to rise to leave the room and find a corner — any corner — to be alone, to sleep, to breathe.

      Then slender fingers wrap gently around his wrist, halting him. — Don’t go, étoile. — And something inside flips, because now the mocking voice sounds serious. A little uncertain. A little pleading.

      Kim glances down at his hand, still gently cradled by those elegant fingers, and sighs softly, sinking back down.

      The hand doesn’t move.

He tries to figure out why. The brunette’s fingers are slightly cold, but not unpleasantly so. They hold his hand so delicately, like something fragile. And it feels… wrong. Not inappropriately wrong, but wrong because it doesn’t feel wrong at all.

      And that’s even more wrong.

      — What do you want from me? — The weight of exhaustion sits heavy on his tongue.

      The brunette lets out a quiet hum, slowly tracing a finger along the skin of Seokjin’s wrist.
— I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll run away in horror.

      — You could try me. — Seokjin finds it absurdly funny that someone as free and fearless as Taehyung might actually be afraid  of his reaction, of all things.

      — I don’t like to gamble with fate, cher. — Seokjin finally lifts his eyes. In the hush of the dim room in his best friend’s apartment, one of the hundreds of nights spent here, he finally gets a clear look at the face in front of him.

Dark bangs still fall into deep eyes, curly strands framing soft, sculpted cheekbones. A perfect nose with a small beauty mark at its tip. Full lips. And those eyes… dark, deep like rain-soaked earth. There's more than just the glow of ceiling lights reflected there… There's a spark. Bright, wild, born of something raw.

Seokjin blinks slowly, but it doesn’t go away. In those dark galaxies, he sees something deeply human. Repressed emotion teetering on the edge, desperate not to spill. The brunette’s eyes are full of exhaustion, silent desperation, and dim hope. Not raging, not loud,  but clinging to the man before him like an anchor. Holding on to the mere fact of his presence.

      It’s painful. It’s heavy. It’s unsettling.

      Seokjin feels like he's missing something. Because this shouldn't be happening.

a little death — the neighbourhood

He closes his eyes, tilting his head slightly down in an attempt to collect himself. Nothing changes. He’s just tired — that’s all.

The light touch fades. Fingers leave his wrist. But then, a second later, his chin is gently lifted, and he opens his eyes.

He’s captured again by that overwhelming gaze — the one that doesn’t let go. Thin fingers, light as butterfly wings, trail from his chin to his cheek, barely brushing his skin.

      — What are you doing? — His voice comes out shaken, fragile. He’s surprised he can speak at all, because his heart is pounding so violently in his throat it’s hard to breathe.

The brunette doesn’t answer. He keeps watching. Not just looking, but watching. Reading every micro-expression, every breath, and silently asking.

      Asking him to trust. To just be.

      Seokjin blinks, not understanding how the face in front of him keeps getting closer, until soft lips brush against his own.

His heartbeat thrums through every inch of his body. Each pulse echoes in his ears, his chest, his fingertips.

Everything terrifies him. The half-lidded eyes staring into his, the warm lips pressed to his, the electricity from the touch, the way his body goes still, not in fear, but in anticipation.

The kiss ends just as softly as it began. It lasts an eternity or, maybe just a second.

Taehyung leans back a few millimeters, watching for a reaction. His breath brushes Seokjin’s lips, and his eyes scan his face.

Seokjin blinks again. He's dazed, unmoored.

      — What… what are you… — His voice falters. Thoughts scatter like birds startled into flight.

But Taehyung doesn’t give him another chance to finish. He leans in again. This time without asking.

His lips move gently. Teasing, then returning. His other hand cups Seokjin’s face, stroking his cheek.

Seokjin flinches slightly, not kissing back, not yet. He’s paralyzed. Frozen. Heart racing. Fingers clenching the bedsheet. Breathing too fast. No air.

      It’s too real.

      The infuriating guy who lives by no rules, defies every boundary, always commands attention without effort — that guy — is kissing him.

      And not as a joke. Not for fun.

      For real.

      His mind spirals. This shouldn't be happening. It’s so wrong.

And yet… his lips tingle. And to his horror he starts to kiss back. Hesitantly. Cautiously.

And worse… he doesn’t hate it.

Taehyung’s lips are soft. The kiss is gentle. He tilts his head, brushes Seokjin’s nose with his own, still stroking his cheek.

His tongue lightly traces Seokjin’s lips, slipping in to meet his own. Taehyung exhales sharply through his nose, a barely audible moan escaping him and Seokjin freezes.

      What the hell is he doing?

      He’s kissing a guy and liking it.

Seokjin jerks back, as if doused in ice water. He’s panting, eyes wide, staring at the brunette who looks calm — satisfied, even — though his heavy breathing betrays him.

His cheeks are flushed, neck pink, chest rising and falling with each breath. And his darkened eyes burn with something fierce.

      What just happened?

Seokjin bolts off the bed, rushing out of the room in a heartbeat, leaving Taehyung in the dark, where he'd just made a massive mistake.

He doesn’t remember passing a confused Hoseok in the hallway, or grabbing his jacket, or running out the apartment. Only that he called a taxi on the way down.

He shakes the entire ride home. Clutching the car seat, silently begging the driver to go faster to safety. To oxygen.

He doesn’t remember how he got upstairs. Only the cold water on his face, again and again, trying to scrub away the panic. The feeling that everything has burned down like the Library of Alexandria.

      The only thing he does remember, slumped on the bathroom floor.

      Is that it was real.

      And that he didn’t do anything to stop it.

      And the worst part?

      He didn’t want to stop it.

Because… oh, the irony — in spite of how wrong and absurd it all was…

      He felt alive.

As if he’d been holding his breath his whole life and finally, finally inhaled.

***

go steady — tender

The next three months pass like a blur.

Seokjin forces himself to forget, to carve the memory out like a bad dream and never look back. He throws himself into work with even more obsession, baffling both Molly and Namjoon, who can’t even catch him at the office long enough to ask how he’s doing.

      Shitty. That’s how.

He declines every party, every gathering, avoiding even the slightest possibility of running into him. Hoseok’s persistent concern is brushed aside with a flat "I’m fine" and a strained smile.

He shows up to Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s birthdays, but always leaves just in time, before he can arrive, before anything can go wrong.

He even goes on a few dates, trying to feel normal again, like he’s not some ghost silently floating through the city in someone else’s skin.

He takes time off to visit his parents and relatives, finding a moment’s peace, until one day, Molly corners him with a threat: “If you don’t show up for my twenty-fifth, stay the entire evening, and at least try to smile, I’m never speaking to you again. I’ll leave the friend group. I swear to God, Seokjin.”

So he goes.

She promises it’ll be small. Just close friends. He buys a bouquet of white lilies and the gold chain she wouldn’t shut up about in May, when she last called his apartment.

Molly opens the door with her usual sunshine smile, pulling him into a warm hug and dragging him inside. He scans the room and to his relief, she didn’t lie. Just the core group and a few of her girlfriends. The tension in his shoulders loosens, and he lets himself smile.

The evening goes smoothly. Seokjin even laughs — full and bright — at a joke from Inhyeok, sipping a cocktail from his glass when the doorbell rings.

He doesn’t think much of it, until he hears the voice.

Molly returns, laughing, trailed by Jungkook… and then him.

Taehyung.

They’re still focused on the birthday girl, handing over flowers and hugging her cheeks red.

And Seokjin feels the floor vanish from under his feet.

He turns around, trying to look casual, back to the newcomers. He barely registers Inhyeok’s voice now and just tries to steady his breathing.

The fear he’s been dreading for months is now in the same room. Laughing. Meters away.

He needs to leave. Now. Quietly. Without alerting anyone. He’ll make up something to tell Molly later.

But his escape plan crumbles the moment Inhyeok waves excitedly in the newcomers’ direction.

      Of course they come over.

      — Hey! — Jungkook greets them with his usual bright grin and handshakes all around. Then his gaze lands on Seokjin.— Jin-hyung! We haven’t seen you in forever! Are you okay?

      That smile is so genuine, so warm and Seokjin forces himself to return it. — Hey, Jungkook. Good to see you. I’ve just been swamped with work. Nothing serious.

      Jungkook nods, seemingly satisfied, but Taehyung, who’s talking to Inhyeok, keeps sneaking glances at him.

      — Want something to drink? — Seokjin offers quickly, interrupting whatever else Jungkook was about to say. — I was heading to the kitchen anyway.

      — Uh… sure. Beer would be great.

      — Got it. — He turns on his heel and walks off, but at the corner, instead of heading to the kitchen, he slips into the bathroom.

Cold water doesn’t fix the panic, but it gives his trembling hands something to do.

      Get a grip.

      Nothing happened.

      Just survive the evening.

He nods to his reflection and, after a few deep breaths, walks out with a smile stitched onto his lips.

reflections — the neighborhood

He grabs a messy mix of gin and juice for himself, plus a bottle of beer for Taehyung, and returns to a now-louder living room. He hands off the drink with a nod and joins Namjoon, Yoongi, and Sophie, who are laughing about something ridiculous.

All in all, the night is manageable. Seokjin even enjoys himself. He’s on his sixth cocktail (because being drunk is always a valid strategy), and he’s been pretending for the past hour that he doesn’t feel a scorching stare burning into the side of his face.

People are dancing, drinking, talking, kissing. Life is happening  and Seokjin is trying to drown in it.

By his tenth cocktail, his ears catch a sugary voice — one of Molly’s friends fluttering her lashes.

      — Say something in French? — Her voice is pure syrup, high-pitched enough to put Ariana to shame.

      — Tu es trop insistante, chérie, (You are so insistent, girl) — comes the reply, deep and rough. That voice.

      Seokjin’s blood chills.

      — Wow… that sounds beautiful. What did you say?

      — Just that the party’s going great, — Taehyung answers smoothly. Even drunk, Seokjin hears the smirk in his tone and risks a glance.

      The girl giggles. — Do you have a favorite French word?

       He frowns slightly, then smiles, biting his lip. — Yeah. I do. — He chuckles softly to himself. —  I really like ‘étoile’. — A chill runs down Seokjin’s spine. Taehyung is looking right at him. — It means 'little star'. My grandmother used to call me that when I was a kid. — He doesn't even glance at the girl anymore. His eyes are fixed on Seokjin.

      And Seokjin can’t move.

      Étoile. 

      That’s what he always called him. All this time. But… why?

They stare at each other for what feels like eternity. In Taehyung’s eyes there is that familiar glint, that unreadable pull. Seokjin’s brain slows. His heart stutters like a bird slamming into its cage.

He finally breaks the stare, closing his eyes and emptying his glass.

      Not enough. He is way too sober for this.

His cheeks flush from the alcohol, the heat, the sheer discomfort and he presses the cold glass to his face.

      — You okay? — Namjoon frowns.

      Seokjin lifts his unfocused gaze and grins drunkenly. — Absolutely. — He eyes Namjoon’s nearly-full glass and tilts his head. — You gonna finish that?

      — Uh… — Namjoon opens his mouth, but Seokjin’s already snatching it, downing it in two gulps. — What the hell, Jin?

      — Jesus… — Seokjin coughs. — Is that just vodka?

      — There’s Coke in it.

      — Yeah, for color maybe. — He wheezes. — You’re insane.

      — Says the guy who’s on his tenth drink. Why are you even doing this?

      — To honor the birthday girl, — Seokjin croaks.

The room spins. Namjoon starts tilting weirdly. Seokjin blinks. Once, twice, three times. Still off.

      Perfect.

      — I’m gonna… — He blinks again. — Get some… air.

      — I’ll come with…

      — Nope. — Seokjin shakes his head and marches out of the room with all the dignity of a half-drowned cat.

Somehow, he crosses the room without falling, though gravity is definitely out to get him.

He’s nearly at the front door when a hand grips his wrist, tugging him sharply in the other direction.

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s in Molly’s guest room — the one he’s slept in a few times after parties. He’s too out of it to protest, and the door clicks shut behind him.

      Dim moonlight. Carpet. Bed. Peppermint…

      Peppermint?

      Molly hates peppermint.

      Seokjin blinks and finally focuses on the figure standing by the door.

      Taehyung.

      Of course.

      He got him.

shut up and listen — nicholas bonnin

      — You… — his voice is a pleading whisper, his mind grasping at fragments of thought to hold on.

      — Stop running from me, étoile. — Taehyung’s smirk deepens as he steps away from the door.

      Seokjin scrunches his face, expelling a disbelieving snort. — What do you want from me?

      Taehyung takes another step forward, and Seokjin feels that familiar tremor of anxiety wash over him.

      — Don’t… come closer, — he whispers, holding up his hands as a feeble barrier, though his breath catches as Taehyung stands inches away, fearless.

      Taehyung only smiles wider, and chuckles softly. — Are you scared of me?

      — No… why would I be? — Seokjin’s reply trembles, betraying his own uncertainty.

      Taehyung steps even closer, his chest pressing against Seokjin’s outstretched palms. — Really? — he arches an eyebrow, mockery dancing in his gaze. — So, it wasn’t you who’s been avoiding me for the past three months?

       Seokjin closes his eyes for a moment before looking up again. — I… I wasn’t avoiding you. — His voice is low, steady. — I… was busy.

      — Ah, yes, I’ve heard. — With that, Taehyung edges in closer, forcing Seokjin to tense as his arms begin to tremble to maintain distance. — You ran away like your hair was on fire, then disappeared because you were “busy”, not because kissing me terrified you.

      — I didn’t like it… — Seokjin’s words crash out in a rasp. — It was a mistake.

      — A mistake? — Taehyung’s voice turns dangerously low, like thunder before a storm.

      — Yes. I was tired. I was sleepy. — Seokjin closes his eyes. — I don’t… like men. — He forces his gaze away from the bare collarbones glistening beneath Taehyung’s shirt, and finally lets his eyes drift to those dark, night-deep ones. — I don’t like… you.

      Taehyung exhales sharply, and Seokjin feels his fingers twitch at that sound. — Of course. How could I forget? — His voice deepens even more, heavy like gathering storm clouds. — Labels are limitations. And you — are made of limitations. — Even through the drunken haze, Seokjin sees a fire spark in those eyes.

Seokjin’s gaze flickers away as he fights to steady his breath. He feels lost, his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums.

      Taehyung’s hands slide around Seokjin’s wrist and draw him closer. Panic floods him. — But I can see your lies, étoile. — His words come soft, dangerously close. — Every boundary you made falls like a deck of cards under the weight of real desire.

      Seokjin tries to step back, but Taehyung holds him firm. — Let me go.

      — So you’ll vanish again for months? — Taehyung’s tone is controlled, low, but it reverberates in Seokjin’s chest. — No, étoile… I missed you. — His hand moves up to cup Seokjin’s jaw, trailing down his neck, light and warm. — Tu es tellement beau. (You are so, so beautiful.)

       — Stop it… — Seokjin’s voice is barely there, his body trembling like a leaf in wind. — You’re… touching me without my permission. — His breath comes in shallow gasps. — It’s… wrong.

      — Wrong? — Taehyung chuckles, a haunted sound. — If obsessing over you is wrong, then I’d rather be wrong. — He leans forward, pressing a featherlight kiss under Seokjin’s jaw, trailing to his neck. His voice is soft, pleading. — I haven’t even begun to claim you.

      Seokjin sways, weak, on the brink of panic. — Taehyung… let me go. — He clings to the smallest thread of clarity.

      Instead, Taehyung brushes his nose against Seokjin’s cheek. — I’m not holding you, étoile. — Seokjin realizes that his other wrist is free, and somehow, his fingers entwine with Taehyung’s. — You can walk away… anytime.

Taehyung lifts his head. And Seokjin sees something in his gaze deeper than night, something broken and achingly hopeful.

      — What do you want, hyung? — His voice is soft, unfamiliar in the silence.

      — I… — He trembles. — I want you to step back.

They stand locked in that moment and then Taehyung exhales slowly, loosens his grip, and finally steps away.

Seokjin sways as the warmth leaves the room — and he faces an emptiness heavier than any night he’s known.

He stares at Taehyung, whose posture remains calm, but whose eyes betray something raw. Grief, or sorrow, or something deeper.

      In the raw light, he realizes: sober-Seokjin would never forgive himself.

      He’d call it an alcohol-fueled mistake.

      He'd come up with excuses.

But tonight, here, in the hush of falling breath and the ache of everything unspoken, he feels… right.

say my name — bury

The younger one catches his every movement, frozen like a wild deer in the headlights, afraid to scare him away even with a quiet breath. He persistently transmits some signals to him, as if asking.

      Please, don't break my heart, étoile.

The brunette turns his gaze to his lips and, not giving himself a single chance to even think about what he is about to do, kisses him.

He allows himself to stir up and dig up the memories buried in the depths of his memory about how everything was last time. And this... this feels much better. Because he... wants this.

The brunette's lips are as warm and soft as he remembered. They respond smoothly and carefully, as if not believing that everything is happening for real and they are allowed.

The kiss feels like a breath of fresh air in the desert. Like an opportunity to feel again.

One of the brunette's hands goes down to his waist, pulling him closer to himself, and the other slides along his chest, stopping at his neck and starting to gently stroke it. The brown-haired man feels his cheeks, ears and neck blush, and when someone else's tongue experimentally touches a row of his teeth, sliding further, his heart echoes somewhere in his ears.

The kiss gains momentum and ignites a real flame inside, taking all the oxygen, and the brunette pulls away to take a breath, catching his breath. 

      — Étoile, if you don't stop, I'll go all the way. — His chest heaves frequently, a faint blush is also noticeable on his cheeks, and his curls are disheveled due to Kim's hand wandering through his hair.

The brown-haired is silent for a while, also catching his breath, and then nods and pushes the guy towards the bed, sitting on his lap and causing a quiet, low moan from the brunette. And, honestly, the picture that now appeared before him is worth erasing absolutely all of his limitations from his head.

The brunette sits, leaning his hands on the sheets, his chest still heaves frequently, veins appear on both his arms and neck, the bright outlines of his collarbones beckon to be touched, his lips are red and slightly swollen, and the languid look of his half-closed eyes burns with its honesty and desire.

      And the brunette will allow himself to burn, at least once.

      — Étoile, si tu savais à quel point je veux te prendre pour moi (Little star, if you only knew how much I want to take you for myself). — The brunette whispers hoarsely and low, as if in delirium, when Kim kisses his collarbones, biting lightly. — Pour toujours (Forever). — He moves to his chin, cheeks, cheekbones, nose. — Comme tu es belle (How damn beautiful you are). — The brunette hovers above him, looking into his eyes. — Et tes yeux sont les plus beaux que j'ai jamais vus (And your eyes are the most beautiful I've ever seen).

      — Shut up already, Pierrot. — Seokjin exhales weakly before kissing him again.

       Maybe he's making a mistake.

       Maybe he'll get hurt later.

       Maybe he'll break more than just Taehyung's heart.

But now, in this room, in the silence of their kisses, muffled moans, and more touches, he feels like he feels right for the first time in a long time. 

***

beautiful you — lateef & the chief

The next day he wakes up with a buzzing head and a snoring brunette at his side. The brown-haired man blinks, trying to finally wake up, and collects the memories of the past evening in pieces that fall on him like the stones of a fallen fortress.

      Molly’s birthday, friends, Taehyung, alcohol, much alcohol, lots of alcohol, Taehyung, kissing Taehyung, … sex with… Taehyung.

      Fucking shit.

      The brunette covers his face with his hands and groans inwardly.

      ...He impatiently pulls the black T-shirt off the guy who is breathing heavily under him, groaning, rubbing, clinging to his bare shoulders...

      Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

      ...The brunette turns them over, changing places, hangs over, breathing rapidly, rubs, kisses, pushes, kisses, bites his neck...

      Go away. Go away. Go away.

      The brunette lifts the blanket and closes his eyes. Naked. Not even with underwear.

He glances at the sleeping guy. A dark crown with hair sticking out in different directions, an elegant back with thin, sparse stripes from nails...

      What an asshole he is.

Seokjin presses his lips together, throws off the blanket, and quietly gets up, finding his things and putting them on as he goes. Only after leaving the room and closing the door behind him does he allow himself to lean his forehead against the wall and tremble slightly.

      Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

      How could he make this mistake again?

His head is splitting, and his heart tightens with the fear that he has destroyed everything with his own hands. Broken, shattered, destroyed himself and his foundations. It feels like he’s going to vomit right here and now.

Sokjin moves quietly down the hallway. There isn’t a sound in the apartment — he doesn’t even know how the celebration ended yesterday.

      He didn’t think about Molly even for a second.

      Damn imbecile.

When he reaches the hallway, he accidentally smudges his reflection in the mirror. Disheveled, swollen, eyes barely open, lips all red and twice as big, his entire neck covered in hickeys.

He doesn’t give himself time to analyze anything, grabs his jacket and puts on his sneakers, hearing someone approaching.

      — Are you okay? — A quiet sleepy voice sounds like thunder on a clear morning in the apartment’s silence.

He looks up, meeting the gaze of the just-woken Molly, standing in only a T-shirt and leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. He nods, weakly and uncertainly.

      He thinks he’s gonna cry right now.

      — Please forgive me, — his voice sounds hoarse and strained, and he’s surprised by it himself.

      Please, don’t ask.

      The girl just shakes her head and smiles faintly. — There’s nothing to forgive me for. — She gently approaches him and adjusts the collar of his jacket. — I just wanted you to be with me on my birthday, and you were. — She lingers with her hands on his shoulders, stroking lightly. — The celebration went fine. Yoongi and Sophie argued again, Namjoon helped take half of them home, Jungkook couldn’t find Taehyung and left with Casey, Inhyuk passed out right on the couch, and I was chewing cake and laughing at everyone. What could be better?

      The brunette smiles faintly and hugs her. — I hope you will be happy, Milly.

      The girl snorts, pinching him on the nape. — I asked you not to call me that. — But she relaxes in his arms, softly replying. — I’m already happy, Jinnie. Thanks to you, I have friends and people who love me. Thank you.

They break the embrace, and the girl lightly kisses him on the cheek as a goodbye.

      — Text me when you get home. — She says as he reaches for the door handle. — And, Seokjin, — he turns around, — be careful. — He feels she means far more than just the way home, and simply nods, closing the door behind him.

Two weeks have passed since then. The city has already changed into festive attire before the upcoming summer, colored by the blossoms of numerous trees and flowerbeds.

The brunette worked like crazy again, even without days off, earning respect and approval mixed with questioning looks from the management.

"You’re up for a promotion, Mr. Kim. At this pace, I might even make you my deputy. Or maybe you’ll lead the whole department."

      If only he cared.

The only reason he buried himself in projects and endless piles of paperwork was that he didn’t want to think about his life at all.

He stopped avoiding friends at work, attending group lunches and even having normal conversations like before, but he looked no better than a dissected frog, often catching worried glances from Molly, who still didn’t ask any questions.

      Though he knew she had many.

The problem was that he wouldn’t be able to answer a single one, not even to himself.

Seokjin turns the corner of the street, rummaging through his bag looking for his keys. Surprisingly, today he finished even earlier than when he had a regular schedule, freeing up his evening for some kind of rest.

If only he knew that later he’d want to rest only beneath the earth’s surface.

ultraviolence — lana del rey

He approaches his building entrance, finally pulling out the keys hidden deep within the mess of papers and other junk he carries around day after day, never bothering to sort through his bag.

      — Hello, étoile. — A low voice cuts through the swarm of his thoughts, making him freeze and feel his heart skip a beat. The brunette turns his head in surprise and sees a black Mercedes parked near the entrance, and a guy leaning against its hood.

      He parts his lips slightly, unsure what to do, as it feels like the guy who tilts his head toward his shoulder is just an illusion of his sick mind finally breaking through his defenses.

      — Hi, — he says quietly and uncertainly.

The dark-haired guy detaches himself from the car and approaches, standing directly in front of him. He still smells of mint and a faint trace of cigarettes, which he probably smoked recently.

      Too familiar.

      — You look rumpled, — the guy frowns slightly, quickly scanning the brunette from head to toe with obvious concern.

      — Working a lot, — Seokjin shrugs uncertainly, avoiding eye contact because he knows it will hurt.

He looks down at his sneakers, suddenly feeling much smaller and ten years younger, like when he came home from school after fighting a classmate who had bullied his friend, and then listened to his worried mother’s murmurs.

The brunette remains silent, and the silence settles heavily on his shoulders.

      — I missed you, — quietly and sincerely, cutting straight through his heart, tearing his mind apart. He lifts his head, meeting an open gaze and a small warm smile tinged with bitterness. Everything tightens inside him, and he wishes he could vanish just to not be here at this moment. — Can we talk? — The guy tilts his head slightly again.

      — About what? — He sounds even more pathetic and awkward than it might seem. He shifts his gaze between the guy’s eyes, suffocating under the weight of all the emotions he sees there. It’s probably the first time he can see so much in someone, because the guy hides nothing from him, putting it all on a platter. No smirk, no usual confidence, no defenses.

      — About us, — those words come out even heavier. They sound like a death sentence.

      — What is there to talk about? — Seokjin hates how his own voice trembles with uncertainty. It’s stingy and empty.

      That’s pretty much how he feels.

      — I gave you time, étoile, — Taehyung exhales finally, smiling weakly, and continues. — You needed time to pull yourself together, and I gave it to you. — His gaze brooks no argument and needs no confirmation of his words. He is calm and confident, just like his owner. — Now I want an answer.

      The brunette grips the strap of his bag tighter. — I don’t know what answer you’re waiting for from me.

      — Preferably an honest one, étoile. — He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one.

      — You want a review? — Seokjin himself doesn’t understand how those words come out of him. It sounds too unnatural, and he barely manages a crooked smile.

      — I don’t need your review, — the brunette exhales a cloud of smoke, taking another drag, — I got that signed on my back.

      — I… — Kim presses his lips together, clutching the bunch of keys in his right hand. — …I can’t, Taehyung.

      — Can’t what? — The slender fingers flick the ash, bringing the glowing cigarette to his lips.

       — Nothing you want. — The keys scratch his palm harder, but he pays no attention, faintly hearing distant thunder rolling.

      — And what do you think I want? — He flicks the butt away, pulling out another cigarette.

      He shouldn’t smoke so much.

      He shouldn’t look so heavily.

      He shouldn’t want from Seokjin what Seokjin can’t give.

      — I don’t know, — he exhales quietly, shaking his head. The thunder grows louder.

      — I just want to be with you, étoile, — another stream of smoke cuts through the heavy air.

      — I’m not… — he breaks off mid-sentence, piecing together what is about to shatter. — I’m not gay.

      — What difference does it make? — The brunette frowns in confusion, taking another drag. — It’s just a label.

      — I’m not like you, — the first tear falls on his cheek, cooling the skin along with his burning heart. — It matters to me.

      — And it doesn’t matter to me? — He hears the deep voice tremble in that moment.

      — No, — the brunette shakes his head. — Not like that. — He tastes blood in his mouth from biting his lip too hard, and more tears fall on his face. — I’m trying to find something meaningful, weighty, something that will stay with me for life. For you, it’s just one of many. — He starts to see worse due to the intensifying rain. — One of the experiments, like you said, one of the stories you can tell strangers at a party, one of many memories about your freedom and how you "helped" someone again.

      — Is that how you think of me? — Because of the rain, Seokjin doesn’t see the whole picture clearly, but he catches the way the brunette’s face freezes and darkens, any smirk disappearing, leaving an empty canvas. — That I’m just having fun? — His voice is muffled by the rain noise but clearly carries unmasked pain. — Maybe, to you, I’m just a slut?

      — No, I never said that. — Seokjin shakes his head in denial.

       — You know what, hyung? — And this is one of the worst things Kim has ever heard in his life. Because it’s fragile, caustic, and bitter like cough syrup. — You’re so trapped in your head, your thoughts, and your beliefs, you’re so stuck in your ideology that you can’t even see the simplest things lying right in front of you on the surface. — The brunette is soaked through, just like him. Water streams down his curly hair, falling on exposed skin and soaking into his clothes. — You think I’m just a puppet? — The brunette barely sees anything now because the heavenly water mixed with salty tears blurs his vision. — Do you think I enjoyed being alone in that dark room, then not seeing you for months because you chickened out and hid from me, hiding behind work? Do you think I was okay waking up to an empty cold bed after our night together, breaking myself so I wouldn’t look for you or talk to you that day?

Seokjin realizes the salty water is his tears because his eyes sting more every second, and his heart aches seeing the broken brunette in front of him.

      — I’m human too, Seokjin, — he hears it as if with his heart because the downpour becomes so heavy it feels like the end of the world. — I have feelings too. — The brunette shakes his head and gives him a bitter smile.

Seokjin doesn’t notice the trickle of blood running down his hand from where the sharp keys tore the delicate skin of his palm. He doesn’t notice how his heart cools, washed by rainwater. He doesn’t notice how something inside him breaks from the pain.

      — Goodbye, étoile.

The only thing he notices is the brunette turning and walking away, disappearing into the car interior.

Seokjin watches the car drive away, then sinks onto the wet asphalt, covering his mouth with his hands, not thinking about the blood smearing on his face, choking back the painful scream breaking free inside him.

The water keeps running down him as if it doesn’t notice the trembling hands leaning on the ground, leaving behind shards of a broken heart cooled by a rainy May day.

He really did destroy everything. Only this time, not just inside himself.

He never fulfilled the only request Taehyung had — one he didn’t even know about.

Please, don’t break my heart, étoile.

***

photograph — ed sheeran

The first week of June, the brunette spends in a feverish state and agony from the illness he caught after sitting in the rain for two hours.

He barely gets out of bed, saved only by silent Molly, who comes by to cook meals and simultaneously feed him pills and antibiotics.

She doesn’t try to get anything out of him, only pressing her lips worriedly when he once again says nothing, wrapping his head in a blanket.

The illness doesn’t go away in a week, and taking turns with Molly, Hoseok begins to come over. The friend doesn’t stop talking for a second, telling him everything he missed in the world. Then he starts pestering Kim himself, but all he ever gets in response is an oppressive silence.

Recovery doesn’t promise anything good because he has to wake up early again and go work off the backlog of tasks.

Day after day, week after week, and now the calendar already says July. Seokjin gets promoted, becoming the head of the sales department, and his friends throw a huge party for it.

      As if he even cares.

He feels like he’s been run over by a train. Then thinks that wasn’t enough and gets run over again.

Everyone buzzes and celebrates their friend, who responds to all the congratulations and wishes with a weak smile. Hoseok tries to cheer him up, recalling stories from college days, Inhyuk throwing in his old thermodynamics jokes, Jungkook, who also became part of the group, and even Yoongi, who usually is too lazy to move a finger just like that.

The only thing that brings the brunette back to his senses is a phrase he accidentally overhears, sitting near Molly and Joon discussing something.

       — He left a month ago, — the brunette says quietly. — I don’t know what happened. He just suddenly called and said he’s returning to France.

Nausea rises in his throat, forcing him to get up from his seat, mumble thanks for the party, and slip out the front door, fleeing home.

The summer air doesn’t help him calm down, and time seems to stretch endlessly.

Home — work — home — work — upset Hoseok — home — worried Molly — work.

One day he even listens to a worried tirade from his mother, whom omnipresent Hoseok managed to reach.

He sits on a bench near the glass skyscraper where he works, holding a cold coffee for half an hour. By the way, the coffee had been cold for an hour.

      — How long is this going to last? — the red-haired girl sighs heavily, sitting beside him.

      The guy blinks, casting an empty glance at her. — What do you mean?

      — That you seem dead, — the girl says bluntly, not choosing words carefully. — I stayed silent all this time and didn’t ask you anything, giving you space. But bills always have to be paid, Seokjin.

“I gave you time, étoile. You needed time to come to yourself, and I gave it to you.”

      Yes, bills have to be paid.

      — What do you want? — He slowly sips his coffee, now mixed with melted water and tasting unpleasant.

      — I want my friend back. The one who picked me up from this bench several years ago and gave me warmth. — He turns his head, seeing the girl’s faint smile.

      The brunette sighs heavily and shakes his head, throwing the cup into the trash bin near the bench. He runs his palm over his face, showing boundless exhaustion. — I really hurt him, Molly. — He presses his lips together, continuing bitterly. — Not just hurt him. I acted like a pig.

The girl is silent for a while, then pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket and puts it into his palm.

      — What’s this? — the brunette looks at the paper questioningly.

      — It’s his Paris address. — The girl just shrugs at his unspoken question. — I didn’t ask you, but I’m not blind, Seokjin.

      — He won’t forgive me. — Kim bites his lip painfully, tracing the edges of the paper with his fingers.

      — If you don’t go, I won’t forgive you. — The tone of her voice and her serious expression serve as a convincing argument that she’s definitely not joking.

      — Thank you, — he says, kissing the girl on the cheek. That gratitude means much more to them than anyone might imagine.

The streets of Paris greet the brunette with ancient architecture and hordes of tourists. Couples stroll leisurely, sharing impressions, photographing sights, and enjoying the city’s romance.

The air is filled with history, the locals’ slightly raspy voices, and freedom.

The guy checks the maps on his phone once more and crosses the street, walking a few hundred meters more before turning a corner.

He turns his head searching for the right sign, finds it, and heads straight to it. The brunette pushes open the glass door with the sign “Mamiche”  and enters the place.

do i wanna know — hozier

The place looks… vintage. Simple antique furniture, a couple of tables, a display with fresh pastries, and a cashier’s counter. Plain, yet somehow cozy nonetheless.

He turns around, scanning the room, but doesn’t find the person he’s looking for. Seokjin is about to leave when a petite girl in a waiter’s uniform approaches him.

       — Puis-je vous aider d'une manière ou d'une autre? (Can I help you?) — Her speech is clear and calm, and she looks very homey, smiling warmly.

       — Um, — Seokjin shifts awkwardly, typing into a translator what he wants to say. — Je cherche quelqu'un, mais je pense que je me trompe. (I’m looking for someone, but it seems like I’m wrong with the place). — It comes out broken and clumsy, but the girl seems to understand him, her face lighting up with curiosity.

       — Avez-vous une photo? Je peux peut-être vous aider. (Do you have a photo? Maybe I can help you).

Seokjin catches the familiar word in context and nods in agreement, finding a photo his friends took at one of the parties and zooming in, turning the phone screen to the girl.

       Her face looks surprised, then instantly breaks into a kind smile. — C’est Tae. (It’s Tae). — She shifts her gaze to the confused Seokjin and chuckles shortly, carefully taking his phone to open the translator. — Il vient souvent ici. Nous sommes amis. Tu le cherches, n'est-ce pas? Il ne s'assoit jamais dans le hall. Il dit qu'on ne peut vraiment découvrir la France que sous la véranda. Viens avec moi. (He is our permanent guest. We’re friends. You are looking for him, right? He never stays inside. He says that you can truly get France only on the terrace. Come with me.)

The girl nods, gesturing for him to follow, and in a few seconds, they find themselves on the other side of the café, opening onto a spacious park with a distant view of the Eiffel Tower.

       They stop, and Seokjin follows the direction of the waitress’s tiny hand pointing to a table where a lone brunette is sitting. Seokjin is about to thank her for the help when she types something into his phone again. — Ces derniers temps, il est très triste. Avant, il souriait toujours et parlait beaucoup de ses études et de sa vie en Corée. Et maintenant, il vient, silencieux, écrivant constamment quelque chose dans son carnet. J'espère que tu es là pour lui redonner le sourire. (Lately, he’s been very sad. Before, he always smiled and talked a lot about his studies and life in Korea. But now he comes, silent, constantly writing something in his notebook. I hope you’re here to bring back his smile.)

       Seokjin’s heart skips a beat, tightening inside, and he nods briefly. — Merci beaucoup pour votre aide. (Thank you very much for your help). — He says himself, catching a slight smile in return, and takes a step toward the table.

Each step feels like weights are tied to his feet, and his heart races faster. He stops a meter from the table, trying to breathe as quietly as possible so the brunette doesn’t notice him too soon.

Even from behind, he sees how much thinner the boy has gotten. A beige knitted cardigan drapes over his shoulders, slipping off one side because it’s too big.

Seokjin takes a slow breath, summoning courage, and closes the distance.

       — Is this seat taken? — His voice threatens to shake with nerves, but he tries to control it.

       The brunette looks up in confusion hearing his native language, then exhales in surprise, as if unable to believe his own eyes. — Étoile?

Seokjin feels a warm rush fill him, giving him a sense of life. He missed this address, this voice, Taehyung.

       — Hello, Tae. — For the first time, he shortens the name, and it feels just right.

       — What are you doing here? — The boy shifts in his chair, clutching the pencil he’d been using moments before to write in his notebook.

       — I wanted to apologize. — Seokjin offers a weak smile, the first genuine one in a long time, and pulls out the empty chair opposite him.

       The brunette frowns, fixing his bangs, and Seokjin notices his hair is much shorter now and no longer curly. — You… came here for that? — He purses his lips. — To apologize?

       — Yes, — Seokjin nods, fingers interlaced before him.

       — You could’ve just texted. — The boy clutches his notebook tighter, as if afraid Seokjin might see what’s inside. — You didn’t have to fly eleven hours just to say sorry. — There’s something in his tone, something like when you wanted an electric toy for your birthday but got a toothpick instead.

       — I believe apologies should be made in person. — Seokjin agrees with his own words, adding. — Especially since I was sure you wouldn’t even open my message.

       Taehyung presses his lips, not responding, and pulls a cigarette from a pack on the table. — How did you know I’d be here?

       — I was at your house. — The brunette looks at him questioningly, taking a drag. — I talked with your grandma and grandpa. — The boy raises his eyebrows. — Yeah, um, your grandma beat me up. — Seokjin chuckles quietly as the boy starts coughing from surprise.

       — Excuse me, what? — He takes a sip of coffee to ease the cough.

       — I tried to find you, but they said you’d be late today because of classes. — Seokjin fiddles with his fingers. — When they heard my name, your grandma started hitting me with a kitchen towel while grandpa tried to tell her something. — He exhales softly. — I was about to call Jungkook, but your grandpa caught me at the gate and explained that Mrs. Kim is just a bit hot-tempered but cools down quickly. And he also gave me the name of this café.

do i wanna know — hozier x2

       The brunette finishes his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray with a smirk. — Yeah, grandma knows how to welcome guests. — He pulls out another cigarette. — Was all this trouble worth just to apologize? — He exhales smoke, squinting unhappily.

       — It was worth it, — Seokjin says calmly, feeling the hint of minty smoke. — I treated you terribly, Taehyung. — He shrugs and glances at the thin fingers still clutching the notebook. — It doesn’t matter what I say because I’ve already hurt you, but I want you to hear me out.

The brunette doesn’t respond, but when Seokjin looks at him, he sees he’s ready to listen.

       — You were right about everything you said back then. I chickened out and let myself think I was the only one with feelings in that situation. — He closes his eyes, sighing. — I never pictured myself in a relationship with a man because I thought it wasn’t for me. That I was different. — Seokjin doesn’t look at him, forcing himself to continue. — Not because I’m homophobic, but because I never stepped outside the limits I set myself. I thought that was right for me. And when you kissed me the first time, I was scared because I liked it. — He looks toward the blooming park. — So I decided to hide and pretend nothing happened. But I was wrong. — He chuckles sadly, shaking his head. — It happened. And it was real. The scariest part was that when we kissed, when you touched me, when we slept together — I felt alive. Like I could breathe.

Their conversation is interrupted by the girl placing two cups of fragrant coffee and a plate of fresh pastries on the table before leaving with the same warm and strangely understanding smile.

       Seokjin takes a sip from his cup and continues. — I caused you pain and I couldn’t stop blaming myself every second since I said those words. Because you didn’t deserve it. You’re wonderful, Taehyung. You’re what I would have strived for my whole life if I hadn’t forbidden myself to dream. — He smiles bitterly, finally looking into the brown eyes that watch him unwaveringly, now strangely filled with tears. — Please don’t cry, Tae. I’m not worth those tears. — He sighs, leaning across the table to wipe the first falling tear. — I don’t know how to love. — The bitter smile seems like a crack on his face. — I’ve never loved anyone that way. I’ve had many relationships, but I didn’t love any of those people in all my twenty-seven years. — He sits back. — Hoseok says I just haven’t met the person to love yet, but I think that’s just my curse. That’s why I pushed you away, hurt you once so I wouldn’t cause even greater pain later. — He wraps his fingers around the cup, tracing its outline. — Please forgive me if you can. I really am sincerely sorry for acting so terribly.

       The brunette doesn’t wipe his tears and shakes his head. — I don’t believe you. — He looks up, his eyes so clear now. — I don’t believe you, étoile. Because if you couldn’t love, I wouldn’t have fallen for you.

       Seokjin flinches, feeling like his heart has really stopped. He parts his lips but can’t say anything — his mind is blank. Quiet and empty.

       — If there was no love in you, I wouldn’t look at you every chance I get, wouldn’t catch every movement, wouldn’t want to hug you when you’re sad or hurt, wouldn’t miss your beautiful eyes, wouldn’t feel how hard your heart beats when I kiss you, wouldn’t have experienced all the passion and tenderness you can give. People who can’t love can’t do that. — The brunette sniffs and looks incredibly touching and devastating, staring with his sincere eyes straight into Seokjin’s soul. — So, Seokjin, you can love. You just trapped yourself behind a bunch of rules that didn’t let you feel. — He sniffs again and reaches into his bag, beginning to rummage, forgetting the notebook he’d held so tightly.

Seokjin glances at the notebook on the table and sees a drawing instead of notes. He studies it, turning it toward himself, and recognizes… himself. The facial features are perfectly captured: the same nose, lips, cheekbones, eyebrows, even the bangs falling just like in real life, and the eyes. He looked at Taehyung like this during their last meeting. Pain and regret mixed with fear and despair are reflected there.

Suddenly, the notebook is closed and hidden in the depths of the bag.

Seokjin looks up at the boy and sees his cheeks flushed and the tips of his ears reddened.

       — You drew me? — He watches the brunette’s reaction with curiosity, noticing how unusually he looks away somewhere to the side.

       — I was bored, — it sounds like a sulky child reluctantly answering his parents. A few moments pass before he exhales resignedly, covering his face with his hands. — I missed you. — A tired whisper muffled by his hands. — I missed you so fucking much. Every single damn day. I really wanted to see you, even though it hurt, but I still really wanted to see you. To hear your voice, to touch you...

       His flood of honesty stops Seokjin, who isn’t sure he can take any more truth and bluntness from the younger one, so he gets up from his seat, approaches the brunette, and gently removes his hands from his face. — I missed you too. — He softly cups his face, tenderly wiping away the last traces of tears, and kisses him.

He could call this kiss his favorite of all they have had, because it’s the most sincere, bright, revealing all the hidden feelings that were locked away and forbidden, and… loving.

       Seokjin gently pulls back, stroking the boy’s cheekbones, and smiles softly at the open expression and worried eyes. — I don’t think loving you will be hard, Taehyung.

       The brunette blinks foolishly, looking more confused than ever before in Seokjin’s memory. — What?

       — How about showing me the city, and then having dinner with your family? — The smile spreads wider on Seokjin’s face at how happy the boy becomes.

       — I’d love that, étoile. — They both laugh quietly, intertwining their fingers and gathering their things to leave the café.

       — We need to buy flowers and the best cake. — They are leaving the café, going on a sunny street. — And something for your grandpa for sure. — Kim softly caressing younger’s fingers. — And you must promise me you’ll protect me from your grandma if she attacks again.

       — Oh no, étoile, you’ll deal with grandma yourself, like a real man should.

If in past Seokjin had thought that if the brunette hadn’t sat with their group of friends back then, he would never have ruined his life, now, listening to his stories about his favorite places in Paris and holding his hand, he realizes that back then he would never have understood what it means to love.

***