♡ ˎˊ˗ "I THINK I'VE just had a sexual awakening," is the first thing Eunchae mumbles when she steps into the car and her eyes land on Taehyung. "You look amazing, chéri."

"Oh, stop it," Taehyung says as he kisses her cheek, careful not to ruin her make-up, or his own. "You do look perfect, however."

And she honestly does, as perfect as she did the first time they met. In a long, sleek black dress with an open back, revealing a red rose tattoo that goes down her spine, red hair cascading down one bare shoulder, she's a dream, just as she was back then.

The difference is, now Taehyung knows she hasn't eaten the whole week to fit into the dress, knows she popped two pills into her mouth a minute ago to stop shaking, knows she has lash glue keeping her fringe in place. She, meanwhile, knows about his little breakdown from this morning, has witnessed it, in fact, she also knows how Eunhee suggested Jiwoo add some glitter to the inner corners of his eyes and now they won't stop watering, and knows the reason why he's attending this without his manager.

Now he knows her, they know each other. Now they're friends. She's above him only in status, and she doesn't show she cares for it.

She's more understanding than Taehyung has hoped, the whole evening. She agrees they should leave the car as close to the entrance as possible, to avoid any unnecessary trouble, such as being chased by curious photographers -- also, Taehyung doesn't want to trip right away, he'd rather wait until he gets inside.

He's swarmed by people as soon as he comes out, though. Flashing cameras, screams, questions, demands, he links arms with Eunchae and gets through it all with a small smile and polite, minimal waves of his hand, just to be decent. There's a small part of him that has him looking at all the unfamiliar faces, hoping to recognise Jeongguk's in the crowd, but it never happens.

He swallows the hint of guilt when he realises Eunchae will be photographed with him the whole evening, unable to go anywhere else, but she grins at him, warm and encouraging, and he wonders how he ever found her anything other than incredible.

The first night's show is by a Japanese designer Eunchae's been talking his ear off about for weeks now. He isn't entirely familiar with his work, but he won't mind finding out. It's something that he can always appreciate during events like these, discovering new people and their views on what this art is. With the pale blue lights washing the room in a soft glow, illuminating numerous sculptures around the runway and a large fountain in the shape of what appears to be a shark, pouring champagne into empty flutes around it, it seems like it'll be a pleasant evening. If he hangs around the shark, at least.

"Tell me," he says at some point, as they're waiting for the show to begin, "is Jeongguk here tonight?"

She looks at him with a tilt of her head, before glancing around the room, the way he did before her, the way he has ever since they arrived. "I think so. He didn't say anything in particular, but he usually attends the first event to have an excuse to skip the rest." Her perfectly manicured nails curl around a flute of champagne and she brings it to her lips, taking a sip. "Why?"

"No reason, he just..." Taehyung shrugs. "He promised we'd take pictures together. For the press. As if there weren't enough noise around me already."

She lets out a sympathetic sigh and caresses his arm. "Don't worry, he'll find you at some point, I'm sure."

"I hope so."

That's not the whole reason and he knows it. He sort of also wants to know what Jeongguk's wearing and if his hair is up or down and if he smells as good tonight as he does all the fucking time and--

And, perhaps, he's hoping to tell him about Yoongi because he'll understand it the way others can't. Perhaps talking to him will help. Perhaps it always helps.

Taehyung won't text him, though. He's above that.

"Listen," he brings himself to say to Eunchae at some point, right as the lights dim and people start taking their seats. "I want you to sit by yourself. You've been a great babysitter, but I think I'm alright."

"But--"

She can get him as much attention as Jeongguk can. In their industry, probably even more. But he wants her to go and be with the people she's come here to see, wants her to stop trying to prevent him from breaking because he might just break because of it.

"Trust me. I think I can take care of myself just fine on my own now. I'll call you if I need you."

Her mother is right there, an empty seat between her and the tall, attractive young man Taehyung recognises, but isn't sure where from. Eunchae gives him one last look, kisses his cheek and goes to sit next to her mother. The man beside her is beautiful and blond and he offers a charming smile and tells her something Taehyung can't hear, but he can certainly remember him now. And so, it starts.

Yoongi was right, is what keeps going through Taehyung's head for hours that come as he gets progressively less and less sober.

He isn't sure when he realises it, whether it's during the break, when he discovers there's an open bar and decides to take a walk around the place in search for someone pretty to look at, with all those eyes on him, those sour faces all wondering what he is doing here, his insignificant, useless self, or if it's perhaps when he trips once at the start of the after-party and almost knocks over one fucking statue in the middle of the room. It may also be when he's asked his opinion on Eunchae and Jeongguk's relationship and he realises he hasn't seen either of them all night, or the horrible, 'Did you know your ex would be here or was it not planned?'

And truly, at some point after the show, there's a tap on his shoulder and his eyes settle on that familiar smile that he once longed to kiss.

"Jongin," he mutters, lifts his chin a little, although he's already taller with the shoes he's wearing. He wears a small smile, because he'll be damned if he shows the man who ruined his life that he cares.

"Tae, hi!" And then he leans over to press a kiss to Taehyung's cheek. He still wears that same perfume. "It's been ages. You look incredible."

"Thank you," Taehyung responds mechanically, but Jongin has seen him before, let him borrow his mum's dresses when they hung out, and hidden them before Taehyung's dad could see, he's seen his first designs and seen what he once was, and he kissed Taehyung, then told him he wasn't really like that, but they could grab coffee sometime, but Taehyung never showed, and now, Jongin is examining everything about Taehyung and Taehyung needs to change the subject. "I didn't realise you were interested in fashion."

"Oh, I'm not!" He grins. "I'm a plus-one. We couldn't miss this first show, it's, apparently, the most interesting one to see."

Taehyung's smile must have turned sour. His heart is racing and he's not sure how long he'll be able to stand still and make conversation. His lungs might as well be reducing to nothing and his left heel hurts. "She has taste, in that case."

Jongin's expression suddenly isn't much better. He bites his lip and opens his mouth to speak, but gives up and turns back to call someone over. Taehyung's body all but freezes up at the sight and he clutches onto his glass, wishing he could chase down the rage swimming within him with something stronger than the warm Glenmorangie he's been carrying around for the past fifteen minutes like a fucking purse.

"It's a he, actually."

Taehyung watches Jongin's boyfriend offer a sheepish smile, all round cheeks and crooked teeth, watches him fix the silk of his shirt anxiously before running a hand through his messy, dark hair, revealing big silver earrings that compliment his dewy make-up perfectly. "I see." He holds out his hand. "Kim Taehyung."

"I know- I mean, it's Yang Daehyun." The man shakes his hand softly, warily. He's sheepish, but nowhere near remorseful. He obviously doesn't know what Jongin did, doesn't know the origin of the photos of him and Taehyung, that are all over the internet right now. "It's a pleasure. Jongin's told me so much about you. You're my inspiration."

In any other situation, under any other circumstances, with anyone else, Taehyung would be flattered. It's an honour. He remembers saying these words to Eunchae, what feels like ages ago, remembers he still has such a long way to go, but the man's eyes are bright and so is his smile and he means it.

But it's Jongin's new boyfriend, it's Taehyung's fucking copy, and Taehyung wants nothing else but to snap at the poor man.

It's not his fault, the voice in the back of his head is distant, barely there. It's Jongin's fault, for being a coward all those years ago and searching for something similar still, for responding to whoever the fuck asked him about Taehyung and helping them get their information. And it's Taehyung's own fucking fault for not walking away.

"Thank you," he says, instead.

"Also, I was wondering if you could tell me where to find Victoire Hwang," Daehyun asks. "I noticed you two together earlier and I wanted to approach you both, but I got shy."

"You? Shy? No way," Jongin comments, but he's smirking, and Taehyung realises that he's being sarcastic. Daehyun smiles back at his boyfriend and wraps an arm around him and Taehyung wants to be gone.

"She was right over there," he says, turning to look at the now empty seats she and her family occupied during the show. "You might find her with her mother or her cousin, perhaps." Eunchae's cousin. Pretty features, long, blonde hair. He remembers him from that one Instagram post she made two weeks ago, from one press conference and from his own bed. Hwang something.

"Hyunjin."

Taehyung may as well have jumped at the voice, because he jerks with so much force his whiskey sloshes around the glass. Jeongguk grabs it from him smoothly with one gloved hand, ignoring the liquid dripping down his elbow, and Taehyung freezes.

His first question from earlier that he finally receives the answer to is Jeongguk's hair. It's down and it's curling around his face messily, still managing to show off one long, dainty earring that almost touches his bare collarbone.

He's wearing a dark grey, cropped suit jacket and nothing underneath it, with one single button done, just for the false sense of safety. There's a thin, elegant silver chain around his neck, nothing like the chunky ones he usually wears, but somehow still him, and before Taehyung can stop himself, he's looking down, down at the long pleated skirt, at the tiniest slit on the side, at the alarming shade of green that it is.

"Jeongguk--"

Jeongguk promptly inspects the glass, sniffs it and frowns. "I get why you like this. Smells sweet." Then he proceeds to drag his eyes away from Taehyung's, eyeliner thick and smoked out, and down Taehyung's figure, painfully slow, before he decides to return Taehyung his drink and press his palm against Taehyung's back, eyes on Jongin and Daehyun. Mostly Jongin. "Hi there."

Taehyung almost loses it right then and there when he remembers Jeongguk's fingers tracing the details on Eunchae's red dress back at Rêveuse, remembers Jeongguk doing this exact same thing-- only that was his fiancée and this... this is different.

"You guys are matching," Jongin utters, amused, and Taehyung can't believe it. "Looks great. I'm a big fan, by the way. I know so many of your songs, Taehyung used to--"

"That's enough of that." Taehyung grins. "I'm sure Jeongguk's busy--"

"Quite the opposite, sweetheart." Jeongguk frowns. He's wearing fucking eyeliner. "I've been looking for you all over." He offers Jongin and Daehyun a polite half-bow. "I'm afraid we have to go, but I'm looking forward to seeing you both around. Have a lovely night."

As soon as the couple is out of sight, Taehyung steps away from Jeongguk. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving you, duh."

"I didn't need saving, Jeongguk." Taehyung sighs. "I could have handled that."

"But you didn't." Jeongguk blinks down at him. "Not a big deal. S'that your ex?"

"Yes, he-- don't change the subject."

"The one that's straight?"

Taehyung glares at him. In the corner of his eyes, he sees a camera flash, and he assumes it's just an influencer or someone taking pictures of the event -- cameras have been flashing for hours -- but then the man behind the lense calls out to them and asks for a photograph. Jeongguk raises an expectant eyebrow and Taehyung has no choice but to step back towards him. "A little closer, please!" the man shouts over the music and Taehyung scoots over, resting a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder and forcing a bland smile.

"Stop talking about him," he says, maintaining the same expression as even more people gather, seemingly taking the opportunity to capture them together.

"Fine." Before Taehyung can process it, a reporter is there, asking them to stand just a little closer together and Jeongguk's arm wraps around his waist, pulling him in. "Can I tell you what's on my mind when I see you in that dress, then?"

He's almost certain Jeongguk's slipped a finger beneath his corset belt, just to prove a point, and Taehyung's mouth runs dry. "Jeongguk, they'll--"

"Can we get one with you guys just talking?" a woman shouts. "Just pretend you're having a conversation."

"They can't hear us. Now, where was I? Right, the dress. The fucking dress." Jeongguk leans in, closer to Taehyung's ear. He's standing in front of Taehyung now, but he's still holding onto him. His smile appears all sorts of innocent, but his voice lowers even more. "You're always stunning, but somehow you're the most insufferable when you're in something you're comfortable in." He sighs. "Fuck, the things you do to me, you... you fucking menace."

Taehyung swallows, knuckles white around the glass, and forces down a gasp when Jeongguk's lips graze his ear as he pulls back, the epitome of nonchalance. The reporter lady thanks them and eventually leaves, the others do, too, and Taehyung can't bring himself to look at Jeongguk again, not when he knows how Jeongguk is looking back at him, because everything he's been pushing down for weeks, it's there, brimming at the surface, and Jeongguk's just proven it to him that he's not insane for feeling the way he does.

"Did you just call me insufferable?"

"Oh, absolutely. Insufferable, insane, fucking unfair."

"Are you drunk?" he finds himself asking. His mind flashes back to that hotel, to Jeongguk's words and the way he looked at him. Because if he's drunk, he can brush it off again, he can pretend it's not serious and not true and--

"Wish I was. I guessed you'd be, though. Are you?"

Taehyung swallows. "Not drunk enough. I think I'm going to go and take care of that quickly so the next time I see you, it won't feel real."

Taehyung leaves before Jeongguk can ask him about it, but he doubts any kind of question would have come up, had he stayed, doubts they'd have done much more talking.

He'll call it dodging a bullet, for now.

♡ ˎˊ˗ TAEHYUNG WANTS TO be gone. He wants to take off his heels and run right out the door, into the fresh, evening air and get lost in the city with a bottle of whatever the fuck he finds, wants to curl up into a ball in his bed, under his bed, and rot until the event is over and every following event is over and the world is over--

"So... you having fun here?" Hoseok asks. "My sister loved doing your make-up, by the way. She kept talking about your sense of style."

Taehyung can barely make a connection between Jiwoo and Hoseok, but now that Hoseok mentions it, alongside the matching smile lines, they do both have that powerful energy, only on her it's borderline adorable and on him it's borderline... well, insufferable.

"Yes, she's quite fascinating herself, I must admit."

"She did say Yoongi was giving you crap about your fits, is that true?" When Taehyung blinks at him, Hoseok raises both of his hands in defeat. "Small circle, word travels fast."

"We resolved it. There's nothing to worry about," Taehyung says, resting his elbows against the marble surface of the bar and gesturing to the bartender to refill his glass.

Hoseok insists. "I know, but--- isn't it strange how he hired a stylist for... a fashion designer?" He sighs. "I mean, ask anyone, ask Eunchae if you don't trust me, but we almost never work with people in this field. It's an understatement that you can fucking dress yourself, you know what I'm saying? Sure, make-up, hair, all that's kind of different and even a stylist is fine, but you're not just anyone."

Taehyung snorts. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're... you know, different. Your designs aren't exactly ordinary around here. Your whole vibe isn't something that can be replicated by just anyone. You have that something."

"I did," he blurts out. Hoseok perks up at the words and Taehyung's a few glasses in and he can't exactly back away now, can he? "I can't remember the last time I made anything. It's just fucking boring now."

He expects Hoseok to sulk, to be all empathetic and pitifully pat him on the shoulder, but Hoseok... laughs.

"Tae, dude, don't beat yourself up over that! I mean, hey, I'm nowhere near you--" Somehow having him say that makes it sound so wrong. "--but I'm pretty certain about a few things. Main thing is, you can't fake inspiration. If you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it. If you're like one of those... emo French impressionists who got high and then wrote the craziest shit ever, get high! Who cares? If you need to go, I don't know, to fucking Amsterdam or- or Transylvania to feel it, you better go, you know?"

Taehyung frowns. "So you're saying--?"

"I'm saying," Hoseok does finally pat him on the shoulder, "to go and find what you lost, even if it seems fucking crazy, because no one else will do it for you." He grins and turns away, as if to leave, before turning towards Taehyung again. "Oh, and to take control over the styling because no one else can do it for you. You're the one, Tae!"

Then he proceeds to actually leave, and Taehyung finds himself feeling oddly grateful.

Time passes. The music gets louder and the drinks get milder and people find him, talk to him, exchange contact information because they love his work. An interviewer asks him if he and Jeongguk are friends. He can't remember what he says, but he remembers looking over at where Jeongguk's dancing by the stage, skin washed in neon lights, a girl in his arms, and assumes he says yes, because they are, really. Friends. Nothing more, almost so much less.

This night isn't what he's expected it to be. It's harmless in a sense where he's not uncomfortable in his own skin, just standing there, but it's also the worst possible thing because he's willingly isolated himself from the only people that he knows here and now he's miserable, downing drink after drink and maybe, just maybe, he's going to be sick.

Naturally, he needs to pee multiple times throughout the night, and he goes, followed by Yoongi's guys, who wait for him in the hallway and escort him back in, like a caged animal.

It's during his final trip to the restroom, while he's washing his hands and looking at the smeared glitter on his eyelids, in his reflection in the mirror above the sink, that Jongin walks in, and his relaxed expression turns worried. Taehyung's about to walk right out without a word, and he's doing so, so well, brushing past Jongin, but Jongin grabs his arm to stop him.

"I'm drunk and I don't want to talk to you right now. Or ever, so please."

"Not until I explain myself," Jongin says and pulls him back. "All those articles about you, the photographs-"

"I know, Jongin." Taehyung nods dismissively and places a hand on Jongin's wrist to tug it off of himself. "You apologised through text. You always do. It's alright."

Jongin's grip remains strong. He seems fairly sober, his eyes clear and words understandable. "You don't get it, it wasn't-- I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I just-- whoever contacted me, they--"

"I don't give a fuck. Let go of me. My security's right outside."

And he's about to, he probably is, but the door swings open and Jeongguk's there. Taehyung can't find proper words to stop him, can't see his expression, but it's pretty clear when Jeongguk takes a step between them and gives Jongin a firm shove back. "The fuck are you doing, huh?"

Jongin pales, shakes his head, and lifts his hands as he backs away, his back almost hitting the tiled wall. "I swear, nothing, I was just-"

"Jeongguk, darling, let it go," Taehyung mutters, placing a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder. "He wasn't... I don't need you to do this."

Jeongguk looks back at him, sharp eyes quickly assessing the way his mouth struggles to wrap around words, the way Taehyung struggles to properly stand without that hand on his shoulder, and his gaze softens into something friendlier. He ignores Jongin's terrified form and turns to Taehyung, just as Taehyung ignores Jeongguk's immediate and unconditional obedience, ignores the difference between this and Jeongguk's frantic attempts to fix the situation those weeks ago. Jeongguk's facing him fully, letting Taehyung hold onto his shoulder, now both of his shoulders.

"Shit, you don't look good." He cups Taehyung's face with one hand. "Wanna go home?"

Taehyung nods before he can think better of it, but the thought of facing Yoongi like this, it's not helping him feel any better. "No, not mine-- Yoongi's there and I can't..." He swallows. "I can't."

Jeongguk seems to understand. "My place, then."

He doesn't remember the walk out of the building. He's aware of Yoongi's men approaching, of telling them it's okay, of Jeongguk telling them to back off. There's Eunchae's sweet perfume at some point, her voice full of concern, and he wants to tell her not to feel bad, to tell her it's not her fault, to tell her it's not his first time being so drunk he can't go home by himself, only this time he's with someone he trusts, but he can't bring himself to open his mouth.

It's dark and quiet outside and he assumes they found the back exit. He allows himself to rest his forehead against Jeongguk's shoulder as they wait and inhales his scent. Insufferable. That's what Jeongguk called him. Jeongguk is suffering, suffering without him, unable to have him, and this burning feeling in Taehyung's chest feels no different.

It's harmless. It can be. Plus, he can just get it over with and use all this as an excuse. He's drunk, he's vulnerable and he needs the comfort of Jeongguk's touch.

"We're waiting for Jimin," Jeongguk says to him, for no apparent reason. "He's driving."

Taehyung hums in response and buries his face in the small crook between Jeongguk's neck and shoulder, grazes the shivering, exposed skin with his lips. He can hear Jeongguk's gentle sigh, feel Jeongguk's grip on him tighten, and he does it again.

"Taehyung, you're fucking wasted."

"I still know what I want," Taehyung whispers against his neck and grips his collar. "Fuck, and I want you. I don't know what it is about you... Don't you want this?"

"Of course I do, but--"

"You're going to fuck me tonight, Jeongguk." His ears are ringing. "I want this. I'm sure."

"But--" Jeongguk releases a huff of air and wraps his hand around Taehyung's. "Alright. Okay."

"Okay," Taehyung says faintly. "Good."

He finds Jimin after a few minutes and the three of them get into the car. Taehyung assumes the drive won't take too long, but he can't be sure because, a few minutes in, he finds himself with his face against Jeongguk's chest, his eyelids so, so heavy, and the night quickly becomes a blur as all he's aware of is Jeongguk's heartbeat.

♡ ˎˊ˗ IF TAEHYUNG HAD a coin each time he woke up in another man's bed, naked and hungover, he'd have way too many fucking coins.

He's way too warm, is the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes. He tears all four -- fucking fuck -- covers off of himself, squinting in the brightness of the room, and immediately puts his head in his hands, squeezing at the temples, in hopes it'll actually burst.

"Goodness," he mumbles to no one in particular, and twists around to eye the other side of the bed. The first thing he spots is a small teddy bear above the pillow. He blinks at it, then blinks again. The teddy is still there when he opens his eyes, looking old and well-loved, and there's a faded tag on its little foot, with something written on it a long time ago, presumably using a sharpie. The handwriting is loopy and small. Jeju, 2002, it says.

Taehyung reaches out and runs a hand down the sheets. Empty. Cold. He whimpers and falls back down, covering his head with the pillow.

What the fuck happened last night?

He remembers the show, the people... Jongin, oh, no, did he sleep with---? No, no way, that makes no sense. Jongin has a boyfriend and Taehyung...

Taehyung was with Jeongguk.

They took some photos, they talked, Jeongguk was... touchy. Then he left and Taehyung spent the whole night wishing to go home and sleep it all off, but then... Jongin cornered him in the bathroom, trying to give him another excuse and Jeongguk showed up.

Jeongguk's the last person he remembers... Jeongguk, holding onto his waist, trying to soothe him, taking him to his place. Jeongguk's soft skin against his lips, his whispers, their agreement to---

He had sex with Jeongguk. He had sex with Jeon Jeongguk and he can't even bloody remember it.

It's fine, it's fine, it's completely fine. He can just pretend it's all normal, pretend nothing ever happened in the first place, the way he'd intended to, all this time. He can just walk out of here, the apartment's empty anyway, right? He can just... figure out where he is. Find his phone, his clothes, for starters, his glam dress and all, and get a taxi, get the fuck out---

There's a thud coming from the other room. Footsteps grow closer. Taehyung freezes.

It's fine, he can stay perfectly still and pretend to be asleep. Play dead. Maybe Jeongguk will assume he is, call an ambulance, they'll drive him away and he'll sleep for another few days, then wake up and pretend not to know his own name. Maybe that'll save him.

A soft knock. Another one. Silence. The door creaks open and there's a soft, gentle sigh. Jeongguk grows closer, Taehyung can feel it. He almost expects Jeongguk to touch him, to do something to refresh his memory of their night together, oblivious to how Taehyung remembers fucking nothing, but Jeongguk pulls the covers back up, over Taehyung's bare shoulders, places a glass on the bedside table and soon enough, the door clicks closed.

After a minute or two of just lying there, just in case Jeongguk returns, Taehyung lifts himself up, very, very slowly, because his head is a ship out in the sea during a storm. The first difference he notices is the glass of water, the second one a pile of clothes at the end of the bed. Jeongguk's clothes, he guesses. There's a note on top, written in a rush.

shower and put some damn clothes on, exhibitionism is NOT cool!!

Taehyung bites back his grin and carefully stands up, taking a look around the room.

It's surprisingly small, in soft yellows and peachy pinks, and there's a mirror next to the large window, a simple closet, and a desk with a shelf on the side. The carpet is beige, with small, white stars, and it's fluffy when Taehyung's feet sink into it. The wall next to the mirror is covered in posters and photographs. There's a poster of Taemin, one of Queen and a few more of some western artists Taehyung's barely ever heard of.

Eunchae, Jeongguk and Jimin smile at him from where they're captured in multiple Polaroid photos, there's Bam, too, and the children Taehyung assumes are Jeongguk's siblings. There's another photo of a beautiful woman, her soft, round eyes looking away from the camera in embarrassment, but carrying that same warmth that Jeongguk's eyes do. Her hair is like his, too, dark and luscious, and if Taehyung used to think Jeongguk took after his dad, he sees now he was definitely mistaken. There are photographs of her with Jeongguk, and in them Jeongguk is younger, happier. Taehyung has to force his eyes away and go take a shower, wondering where the hell he's stayed the night.

The door Jeongguk's just closed is by the desk, but there's another one, right next to the mirror, and Taehyung's assumption that it's the bathroom is proven correct. It's, again, small and simple, normal. Entirely unlike a hotel worthy of South Korea's pride and joy. Each product has a similar scent, all of them soft and sugary, and Taehyung's never expected to enjoy it as much as he does.

He puts on Jeongguk's clothes next, notes how the shirt's a little loose, the sweatpants a little short, and pushes the bedroom door open, immediately freezing in place, with the realisation that he never ended up coming up with what to say.

His eyes land on a worn leather couch, paintings and photographs on the wall. A thick wooden bookshelf stretches all the way up to the ceiling, the books on it perfectly arranged; next to it, there's an actual record player, the records beside it stacked in two big piles. There's another teddy on the shelf, bigger than the one in his bed, snow white. The TV's on, playing random commercials on mute. Yet, it's not silent. From the other side of the room comes a soft hum, the melody painfully familiar, and the sound of the table being set. Taehyung's hit with an odd realisation when his stomach rumbles at the delicious smell.

He's not in a hotel room. He's not in someone's expensive penthouse with a jacuzzi and too many rooms to ever open each one. Taehyung's in a home.

"Good morning," Jeongguk says as Taehyung steps closer and takes a seat. He can't help but gawk at the food before him. There's rice, eggs, so many different side dishes, all warm and homemade --- he thinks back to the last time he ate and fails to remember.

Jeongguk silently adds a second plate to the table, and Taehyung's fairly certain he sees a smile.

Taking a seat across from Taehyung --- it's a fairly small table, for no more than four or so people, and they're pretty close --- Jeongguk places a bowl of soup in front of him. "This first."

Taehyung leans over the bowl, sniffs and grimaces. "Hangover soup?"

Jeongguk nods and starts filling his own plate with rice. "It's kinda spicy, so be careful."

Face uncomfortably warm, probably from the heat, Taehyung straightens up, mentally preparing to take the first bite of the pork. "Thank you."

It ends up not as spicy as he's feared it would be, with just the slightest lick to it to make him forget about his head being simultaneously bashed in by eighty hammers, so he can't really complain. He eats most of the meat, before chasing it down with the actual liquid, which turns out to be spicier, and ignores Jeongguk's snort of laughter when he immediately empties a glass of water afterwards.

"That was... surprisingly not as disgusting as I'd assumed it would be." When Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, chopsticks halfway into his mouth, Taehyung backtracks. "It was good, actually, really, really good. Delicious, even. Thank you. Where did you learn to make this... masterpiece?"

After taking a moment to swallow the mouthful of food he'd shovelled in, Jeongguk nods. "Mum taught me. She taught me how to cook when I first had to live alone. I cooked for other trainees as well. She made the soup for me when I got drunk for the first time." He clicks his tongue with a chuckle. "I was fifteen."

Taehyung winces. "Should I even ask?"

"The other kids." Jeongguk shrugs and starts preparing another bite. "I was the youngest, never learned to resist the peer pressure."

"It must have been difficult for you, having to grow up like that, in the spotlight."

Jeongguk nods. "Not while mum was around, no. When she moved back to Busan, I sorta... yeah, I guess that was the hardest thing to take." He shifts. "But that's why I'm here now, and I can make my own hangover soup to rescue damsels in distress. Win-win, if you ask me." Before Taehyung can say anything, Jeongguk gasps. "Shit, almost forgot. Remember that tour that I owe you? I'm picking you up, tomorrow around, like, three. Cool?"

He's fairly certain he's promised a Chinese designer to meet up with her tomorrow evening. Still, he nods. "I think so, but I'll let you know."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and the conversation ceases. As they eat, they throw in a comment here, a joke there, but it's mostly quiet, Jeongguk looking at his plate and leaving Taehyung to figure out his own, which Taehyung can't help but appreciate. The food is delicious and it's obvious that it's been made with care, the way Seokjin's meals always are, and Taehyung tries his best to eat at least something. If he eats more, he'll end up forgetting his own limits.

So he picks everything apart, pokes at it with his chopsticks, spreads it around the plate a little and ends up having some kimchi until the headache has become but a slight pulsating feeling somewhere deep in his skull.

He should say something. That's the first thing that comes to mind when he puts his chopsticks down and realises Jeongguk's finished his meal, as well, and is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes are clear and dark and Taehyung kind of gets lost just watching them watch him, but then Jeongguk pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue, and Taehyung gets a sense of déjà vu. Something about hands on his thighs and Jeongguk's steady breath, that look in his eyes---

He clears his throat. "Regarding last night---"

"Regarding last night, Hobi hyung called me this morning." Jeongguk purses his lips and an absent part of Taehyung wonders what time it is. "He told me about your little... problem."

Jung Hoseok, the snitch.

(He probably has no idea what he's done, though. He doesn't know what inspires Taehyung. What he wants.)

"Problem? I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

"You thought having sex with me was gonna cause this... magical surge of inspiration, seems to me." He shakes his head. "I'm not dumb. It seemed weird that Hobi hyung told you to go for the things you want, the things that inspire you, no matter how crazy it is, and now, here you are, in my bed and in my kitchen. Pretty obvious to me what that means."

Taehyung blinks at him. What did Jeongguk expect? Some sort of romance? They agreed to work together, they never wanted anything more, anything physical that happens is strictly a one-time thing and with no strings attached, a moment of weakness where they give into the obvious and do something about it.

That's what Jeongguk wanted in the first place, isn't it? That night, Rêveuse, he was looking for a way out, for release. That's what it was, nothing else.

"Exactly," Taehyung utters finally, jaw tense. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no, just..." Jeongguk's posture shifts into something more relaxed. He seems to be biting back a smile. "Does that mean I'm, like... your new muse now? I'm your brand new inspiration?"

Taehyung suppresses a sigh. "A means to it, yes."

"And here I thought we had something special."

"That would be a reach," Taehyung says, scoffing. He's itchy all over and just needs to stand up right this instant. The chair moves back with a screech and he walks over to the fridge to examine the magnets stuck to it. He feels the need to add to it, just as confirmation, "And it won't happen again."

"Sure," Jeongguk says. "It's like what they always say --- what happens in Tokyo..." He tongues at the corner of his mouth. "Well, you know the rest."

"I am completely serious, Jeongguk. I mean it." Then, he lies, "Everything I lacked, it's here now, I've got it, thanks to our night together and now there's simply no need---"

His words die in his throat when Jeongguk's chair makes that same sharp sound. Jeongguk's in front of him in a matter of seconds, almost nose to nose. His breathing is even, steady, deep and Taehyung's hands, previously raised to make gestures as he tried to prove his point, drop to his sides, limp. Jeongguk catches them in his, presses them to his own chest, loops them around his neck, and oh, how familiar it all is.

Taehyung holds his breath when Jeongguk's palms glide down his back, to land on his hips and pull him in. His eyes don't stray away from Taehyung's face, not for a second. They land on his cheeks, on his nose, lips, and he leans in, close, closer, and tilts his head to the side to brush his lips against Taehyung's ear.

Fingers immediately tangled in those messy strands of soft, wavy hair, Taehyung bites back a gasp, listening to those breaths that grow deeper, heavier, heavier, until something within Jeongguk finally snaps and he groans and pushes Taehyung back against the kitchen counter.

Jeongguk doesn't let an inch of space come between them, letting his hands drag their way down Taehyung's thighs, before he parts them to step even closer. Without warning, he presses his lips to the skin right below Taehyung's jaw and Taehyung's breath stutters in his throat.

"Jeongguk---" he begins, but shuts his mouth before he can embarrass himself, because Jeongguk starts leaving lazy, wet kisses down the side of his neck. His hands are still working, he's still torn between holding onto Taehyung's legs for dear life and pressing his palms to the small of Taehyung's back to try and have him even closer. Taehyung responds the best he can, giving his hair an experimental little tug. Innocent. Harmless. The sound that Jeongguk makes against his skin is anything but, and oh, Taehyung might die if he never hears it again.

He uses his other hand to reach for Jeongguk's shoulder, to trace his fingers down his bare arm and back up, down his chest until he finds the hem of that ridiculously tight shirt and earns himself a vulnerable little hiss when cold fingertips meet warm skin.

It's almost a competition. How far either of them can go. How far they can take each other. Who breaks first. He realises it when Jeongguk's teeth sink into his skin without any warning and he gasps. Oh, so they're doing this.

Jeongguk's rough with him, is the thing. He never has before, but right here and now, he's gripping at Taehyung with all his might, tugging, biting, and he's angry, angry for something Taehyung knows nothing about, angry enough to moan against Taehyung's skin from the sheer restraint it seems to take him not to tear Taehyung apart.

Taehyung loves it.

He fights, fights with every bit of sanity that there is within him, but the very thought of the angry violet marks that'll blossom on his skin drives Taehyung up the fucking wall. Jeongguk's fingers slip beneath his shirt now, squeezing at his bare hips, pulling him closer and he could die right there, with the moan of Jeongguk's name on his lips, but---

"Can you even remember it?"

Every thought in his brain comes to a screeching halt as his heart drops. He freezes, almost immediately, trying to control his breathing, but Jeongguk pulls back, lips pink and wet and, for once in his fucking life, Taehyung has absolutely nothing to say.

"Can you remember last night, at all?" Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. His breathing is uneven, shallow. "Can you remember what you said, Taehyung?"

Taehyung finds himself shaking his head. "Darling, I---"

"Don't. Yes or no. It's that simple."

Heart heavy with a guilt he can't even name, Taehyung lowers his gaze to the floor, shakes his head once more. "I don't know."

Jeongguk chuckles and Taehyung's eyes snap back up, on him, always finding him. "Thought so. Great." He turns his back on Taehyung and rests his palms against the top of the desk, shoulders rising and falling. "We didn't sleep together, in case you actually can't remember a thing. There's nothing to regret, nothing to be scared of. So you can fuck right off and stay away from me."

"I don't---" Taehyung steps towards him, reaches out. "I don't know what I've done---"

Jeongguk tears himself away and makes his way towards the bedroom. "I'll tell Jimin to pick you up. You can wait for him outside."

Jimin.

Jimin's car door closing, Jeongguk helping him out of the car, a fond smile evident in his voice. Jimin giggling at them, them leaving him, but---

The entire ride to the hotel passes in silence. Jimin says nothing, only glances at him every few minutes to check if he's alright. Taehyung holds onto Jeongguk's denim jacket around his shoulders, watches the road, the small, ordinary houses and ordinary buildings of ordinary people. Homes. Just like the one he just left.

Yoongi is waiting for him in the kitchen when he arrives, eyes swimming with worry. Taehyung's throat burns and his stomach twists in that way that he's so familiar with, like he might be sick, but Yoongi only steps towards him, saying nothing, and Taehyung meets him halfway, hiding his face in the fabric of Yoongi's t-shirt.

"You were right," he whispers, tears filling his eyes. Yoongi hugs him back, saying nothing at all.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
OKAY WOW!!
first of all let me just say i did NOT expect to get this chapter out so quickly. i'm pretty proud of myself.

my exam stuff went well!! i will have like a dozen more in june so that might be a tough time but it'll be okay!!

this is currently one of my favourite chapters of this book. it's got chaos, it's got drama, it's got fluff, it's got jung hoseok, it's got tension, it's got angst, just AH. great. i'm happy with it. there were too many options for how this was supposed to go but i think this is it

y'all! ex boyfriend drama! jealous kook! protective kook! can we appreciate how proud he was when tae actually tried some of his food, especially with tae's condition, like 🥹

idk how my steamy scenes are because i'm a little fucking rusty but yeah!! feedback would be appreciated!!

a quick, spoiler free explanation for what actually happened lmao: tae has no idea what happened last night, they did NOT sleep together, but he DID say some stuff that affected jk this way. we'll see what it is. thoughts? prayers?

anyways it's 2am and i have a test tomorrow but i gotta eat because i didn't let myself eat before finishing this so now my vision is swimming okay love y'all vote comment share byeeeeeee