WHEN JEONGGUK wakes up, it is still the middle of the night.

It isn't due to the sound of rain that he rises so abnormally, though. No, the storm has long since passed outside and the only giveaway that it had been there at all is the gloom that still hangs over the sky, slivers of light reflecting off of the droplets that haven't quite dried yet.

But they'll be gone soon if the rising sun has anything to do with it, burning auburn beyond the skyline as though it were urging Jeongguk to rise along with it. They'll be gone, but the damage the storm caused while it was new and it was fresh and it was angry? It will remain. Inside this apartment, by the door, where the wet clothes on Jeongguk's floor lay in a pile; where the scent of Taehyung's skin clings to Jeongguk's shirt; the damage will remain.

He rubs firmly at one eye, a groggy yawn surfacing from his lips as he pulls his comforter up to his chin. Usually, it's more weighted than this, a lump in the form of Twix residing on his stomach whenever he'd pass out in the living room, but the feline is nowhere to be seen. Jeongguk thinks perhaps he went into the bedroom to keep Taehyung company.

He's sure his eyes widen at that realisation as memories from a few hours ago resurface. Sleep still lingers between the fragments, though. Aside from the chill of Taehyung's skin wherever Jeongguk touched him, he scarcely remembers much else. Watery eyes, perhaps, the death grip his fingers had on his shirt. And as Jeongguk rubs at the rest of his face, he only hopes Taehyung is sleeping alright.

Part of him is tempted to go and check in on his guest, but he soon decides against it. Decides against getting up. Decides against fighting off the sleep that demands to be acknowledged. Decides against doing anything but rolling onto his side to face the windows which stretch from floor to ceiling.

But that's when he sees it. Or, rather, that's when he sees him.

Bundled in a ball, Taehyung is curled into the small armchair, a pillow between his legs and he looks so small. Uncomfortable there, lips tight despite the rest of his muscles relaxing, and he's trying to fit comfortably in a space that has never been intended to be comfortable. Not for sleep. Not when you want to be smaller than you are and your ribs get in the way. Not when you're willing your body to shrink, to take up so little room in an apartment that is so big and so soulless that even an armchair, hard and unforgiving, becomes a more favourable bed than that which begs to be your support.

Jeongguk knows the ache the boy will wake up with all too well. He knows the ache that makes you want to shrink all too well.

How did he get here? When? Had he even recognised what he was doing as he was doing it or did his legs simply do all of the thinking again?

Jeongguk's heart feels weaker at the sight and he shuffles from the couch to crouch at Taehyung's side, notices the tears dried on his cheeks, right by that one freckle. And perhaps he brushes Taehyung's bangs from his face, eyes softening at the way the boy's eyebrows seem to knit together. It's only subtle, but it's there.

What are you so determined about? The brunette catches himself wondering as Twix prowls in, brushes up against his bare thigh. He wants to go back to bed, too. But Jeongguk can't let Taehyung sleep here like this. Should carry him back to bed. Should keep his self-control about him and not join him in there despite how obvious it is that Taehyung only left the bedroom so he wouldn't be alone. Should's, though, they've only ever felt like guidelines. They've only ever hurt Jeongguk. Restricted him.

You shouldn't feel this, you shouldn't draw that. But what if he wants to? Wants to give into Taehyung's needs, sleep beside him, side to side, not flinch when the boy's honeyed arms find their way, hooked over his waist. Wants to let the comforting weight of Taehyung's head smother his chest, and wake up too hot and too sweaty with the sun pouring in on the back of the most gorgeous man he'd ever laid his tired eyes upon.

Jeongguk doesn't care about what he should be doing. This is what he wants, and that's more than okay for right now.

He thinks that Taehyung looks beautiful there, like this, free of worry on that glowing complexion. The pink hues of the sky outside, they catch his skin aglow. He is gold in this light. He is gold in Jeongguk's arms– worth all of his original value, yet sold for so much less.

He is gold at it's melting point; liquid in the hands of those who do not deserve him. This gold, it creates lakes of Jeongguk's palms. Every crevice swims with the weight of the world in it's lining, glimmering and fragile, expensive. Taehyung, 24 karats of pure wealth and yet still he bends in the hands of he who touches him, so malleable that they must dilute his worth with less valuable creations just so they can use him as they wish.

They tell him to be stronger, yet they expect him to maintain his glow. To be as divine as he is in his purity. But Jeongguk wishes not to dilute Taehyung. No, instead, he will learn to handle him delicately. To manage him and melt with him and build him back up in all of his original glory. Let him flourish as he pleases. Let him do what he wants and Jeongguk will simply do what he can.

He cradles that golden boy in his arms, feeling him stir, his fingers twitching against the skin of Jeongguk's hip as he carries him into the bedroom. The curtains are open, but Jeongguk finds himself too caught up in making Taehyung comfortable to fix that, and pulls back the blanket to lay him amongst the white duvet instead. The pillow is still there, buried between those soft thighs, so he moves it, only to find the boy groaning, eyelids shut tighter as he reaches one arm out for something to latch onto, a sound something close to a whimper pulling effortless from his throat.

Jeongguk smiles fondly, reaching out, fingertips careful in their landing against the flattened palm of Taehyung's hand. He means only to dance the tips over the creases there, make known the warmth of his skin to that of Taehyung's, but the blond's fingers clasp around Jeongguk's and that movement alone stays him even from breathing.

He feels guilty then, stood there in just a shirt and his boxers, the sun illuminating only the places Taehyung's bones jut out beneath his sweetened skin. And he watches, this guilt making more striking the moment his eyes linger on the compliment of their hands there, together. He wonders, out of context, what must this look like? He wants to know. The want evokes this spell of unrest through every cell that sees this opportunity, and sees the beauty in this life, through these eyes, in this room, and he wishes he could show it to the world.

To draw this, it would take too long. But what else? What else indeed.

He's slow; bends in an awkward manner to reach beneath his bed, hands still interlocked, and he feels around blindly for the item that will make timeless this moment. Forever set in colour and shadow as a display of all the motions of ordinary love to anyone looking in from anywhere else.

That's what this must look like out of context. Ordinary love.

The lens touches his fingers and Jeongguk makes a grab for the body, a sigh of relief punctuating the second he powers it on and sees it still has some battery left. Then it's just a matter of lining it up from this odd angle, capturing the light haloing Taehyung's skin and pressing the shutter. And he does, he manages. Then there's this wash of relief that meets him only for a brief moment before the guilt stops him from reviewing the picture he'd taken. It's been so long. He shouldn't have put this picture on the same card as the last ones that he hasn't yet brought himself to delete.

He hasn't touched this God forsaken object for so long. It must have been years now. Back when those smiles were new and bodies were exciting and surrounded by the sort of interest that Jeongguk can't even imagine today.

But it's this twisted form of closure. Ending a chapter so abruptly.

From the outside, there's no downfall to the people in the previous pictures. It's just them, and then it's not. And then it's Taehyung. But Jeongguk's not on the outside, he knows what happened to the people in those pictures. He's not on the outside, he's on the inside. Too deep on the inside. He knows every curve in the smiles of the people in those pictures. He knows exactly where they went.

All of a sudden the weight of the camera becomes a burden and Jeongguk shuts it off, banishing it to the bedside table before he goes to the other side of the bed.

Taehyung is back to fidgeting as soon as Jeongguk releases his hand, but before he goes to slot a pillow back between his thighs, he cuddles into Jeongguk's side, and in that moment, Jeongguk is too warm, too sensitive, too smothered. It should be so hard to fall back asleep like this. It should be, but sleep welcomes him in with open arms.

The last thing he sees is the tan complexion of an arm slung lazily over his lower stomach, a mop of fluffy blond hair, and ebony paws that slink in just before he shuts his eyes.

⠀
⠀

The second time he wakes up, everything is different.

The morning's sun has come and passed. He can tell from the shadows that cast over the bed from where clouds loom through the greying sky, slivers of light intruding on the messy sheets strewn over Jeongguk's bottom half. He's grateful for the lack of blanket as he stretches because his skin finally feels cool against the mattress, just as he likes it. But there's definitely a weight on his stomach now, and it isn't twix.

Jeongguk laughs quietly to himself when he sees how Taehyung's squirmed down the bed, chin covering Jeongguk's belly button where his shirt has risen. The boy's closed hand rests against Jeongguk's thigh and he's really quite amazed that someone can move so much as they sleep.

He wanted to get up. Really, he did.

The clock says it's late afternoon now and he has places to be. But it's so warm here. It's so warm and he doesn't want to wake Taehyung up when he looks so peaceful. So, with weak excuses on his mind, Jeongguk falls asleep once more, maybe roots his fingers into Taehyung's hair, focuses on the heat of his breathing as it fans over his stomach and makes his skin prickle.

⠀
⠀

The third time he wakes up, it truly is the last time.

Not because he's decided to start functioning, not because the afternoon sun is painting the city outside gold, not even because he really needs to. It's because this time he's woken up by the warmth leaving his side and trying to get out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" The husk in his tone even surprises Jeongguk and he's quick to clear his throat as he rubs his eyes. He reaches out, fingers just meeting the curve of Taehyung's side as he sits there in Jeongguk's own button-up, making it look better than it ever did on him. "You're so warm. Please stay."

He watches with one eye open, arm flopped back down on the mattress, as Taehyung looks back at him over his shoulder. The button-up hangs so loose across his chest that it exposes his right shoulder and Jeongguk can't help but wish he had the nerve to pick the camera back up. He looks so wonderful in this light. Hair so imperfect, jaw contoured so naturally by the light, his eyes sparkling. Sad, though. Jeongguk thinks he looks sad.

"You're in here with me," Taehyung says carefully. He's not asking, because there's no doubting what's true. Jeongguk is definitely here with him, but that's not why he said it. It's not his presence, it's how it came to be. That's why Taehyung's sitting up now, no longer hugging Jeongguk's chest; keeping him close and warm.

"Is that why you're getting up?" Jeongguk probably doesn't want to know the answer, because either way it's a new problem to deal with.

When Taehyung's eyes drop back down to his hands, this expression washes over his face that Jeongguk just can't seem to place for the life of him. But the boy says nothing, he just swivels around onto his knees and Jeongguk's stomach muscles tighten under Taehyung's hand when he returns it there. Taehyung cuddles back into him, but even his breathing manages to feel stiffer than it had done before.

Jeongguk's not sure if he's allowed to move. Even though he's sure that Taehyung laying back down should be a good sign, his chest feels so heavy and the corners of his eyes tingle as though he's going to cry. Like he's said the wrong thing and it's hanging down over him.

Taehyung lays on his stomach, seemingly unaware of the pressure, head turned into Jeongguk's shoulder as he traces his finger over the ridges of his skin. He circles the mole by his bellybutton, goes no higher than the bottom of his rib cage, sinks no lower than the place the blanket pools at the top of his hip bones.

"Are you okay?" Jeongguk asks. He taps the tip of his first finger to the tip of each other one simply to occupy himself. "You can — You can get up if you want to. I don't want to make you stay if that's not what you want."

"I'm okay," Taehyung whispers. He moves his head from where it's hiding and Jeongguk can feel him look up at him, but he doesn't acknowledge that until Taehyung scoots backwards and lays on his side to face him. "I've never stayed in anyone's bed this long into the morning before. I suppose it's just weird. Not bad weird. None of this has been bad weird, you're just — you're different. You take good care of me."

"I should've responded the first time you messaged me," Jeongguk says quietly, turning his head on the pillow to find Taehyung staring right back at him. Maybe it's the guilt that makes him drag his eyes away, maybe it's Taehyung's hand on his cheek that makes him look back again.

"Don't feel bad," Taehyung replies, words sort of estranged in their manner. "You have the kindest heart I've ever known. This is worth miles more than any text message."

Although that makes Jeongguk feel a bit nervous, he takes it upon himself to smile, even letting his eyes drink in the presence of the pimple on Taehyung's chin and he wonders how it is that he makes even the most regular imperfection seem intentional.

Taehyung seems to notice the way Jeongguk's so focused on him now. He doesn't look away or try to hide. Taehyung never seems to hide. In fact, he simply continues to look right at him with this brave stare, hand still on Jeongguk's cheek, and his thumb brushing slowly over the boy's top lip.

It takes everything inside of him for Jeongguk not to fall back asleep in the relaxation of the moment. Taehyung's gentle stroking is therapeutic, the setting sun's golden rays leak over him like honey glaze, and the room is such a nice temperature now. In time, his eyes have begun to grow heavy once more and the only thing that stops him from slipping into his subconscious are Taehyung's quiet words.

"You're the only person to ever make me envious that I can't be creative," he says, still staring at Jeongguk when he manages to open his eyes. The brunette wants to ask why, but he goes to part his lips and only a yawn comes out. "You're so handsome; It feels unfair that no one is here to paint you."

The boy only smiles lazily amidst his own embarrassment, fighting every urge inside not to cover his face. All he can manage to do is turn further into a Taehyung's palm with this dopey look on his face to hide away and Taehyung laughs. He tilts his head forwards and he laughs into the pillow, just softly, closer to Jeongguk. He laughs, and it's only short but it sounds happy, it feels happy. Jeongguk thinks he adores it.

Then they're quiet again, though. But it's not necessarily uncomfortable. Alongside the faint ticking of the clock outside the bedroom and the sound of Twix's feet padding against the bed as he pounces on the pillow, the silence seems very much in place.

"Do you think it's dumb?" Taehyung asks, fingers stilling in their dance across Jeongguk's skin for a moment. "That I asked to try again with you?"

"I think that it's strange, but never dumb," Jeongguk replies. "Do you think it's dumb?"

Somehow, Taehyung begins his answer with a smile and he shakes his head. "I don't think it's completely dumb, but I think it's dumb to think we could start fresh. Maybe we just need to shift the — I don't know — shift the path we're taking or... the goal, or something. It's not that I don't like what — I mean what I'm trying to say is—"

Jeongguk glances across at Taehyung, turning to be on his side too so that they're face to face. The elder looks frustrated, lips parted as though he might start to speak again at any point. So Jeongguk's quiet, he waits patiently, unwilling to cut Taehyung's thoughts short when they feel so important.

The thoughts stay incomplete, though. And Jeongguk does wait. Really he does, but at some point Taehyung sighs and the idea dies in his eyes like it had never existed at all.

"I don't know who I am anymore," comes the only closure Jeongguk gets, and it's unwelcome despite having waited for it. He feels scared to make a comment — he surely doesn't know who Taehyung is yet, and he doesn't have enough of the puzzle pieces to even begin finding the corners and the edges and working into the centre. He doesn't even know what the final image is supposed to look like.

Before he can even attempt to offer some consolation (because quite frankly, Jeongguk doesn't have a clue who he is either, and he's not sure he has much of a problem with that yet) Taehyung's frowning that determined frown again and Jeongguk's mouth closes before he even opens it.

He's got a lot of questions, see. He's got a lot of them that he wants to ask, some that he wants to find the answers to himself just by watching. All of them feel inappropriate, though. Just as he knows the ache Taehyung felt as he curled up on the seat, feels the same fear of thunder and rain, creates those same mental blocks of self made secrecy for himself — Jeon Jeongguk knows what it's like to break. And he'd be damned if he didn't assume that that's what Taehyung had done last night. Despite how little he knows about the boy, he can't imagine that collapsing on a near-stranger's doorstep in the middle of the night without thought of bringing a coat is something Taehyung does often.

"Forget I said anything. The restarting thing, anything I said last night — everything. I get caught up in fantasy when I'm sad. I probably shouldn't have dragged you into it." With a weak smile Taehyung single handedly causes a million cocoons to open in Jeongguk's chest, causing this rapture of discomfort that sees the younger boy pressing his lips into a thin line. All he manages is a nod. It's all Taehyung needed — all he'd come to expect perhaps.

"I have a meeting with Jimin today," Jeongguk says quietly, sitting up to look over the shadows cast on the bed sheets. "I'll be late if I don't start leaving now."

"You should've said, I would've left earlier," Taehyung insists. He has these two lines between his eyebrows that get more defined as the words come out, looking all dejected and guilty like Jeongguk hadn't been the one to make him stay when he knew full well it wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had.

"I liked... I liked having you here."

"Okay," is all Taehyung says in reply. But then he's sitting up, too, and he puts his chin on Jeongguk's shoulder, and Jeongguk's certain that Taehyung liked being here as well, even if he won't say those words now.

"I hope Jimin's going to like the new piece I drew of you," Jeongguk muses, thumbing over the hem of his shirt. "Maybe he'd put it in one of his galleries. Maybe someone would buy it."

"That sounds fancy," Taehyung says. Jeongguk smiles at the thought: champagne coming around on trays, smartly dressed people who look at art and say 'hm' because what else can you really say when staring at splodges of colour on canvas without sounding like a complete and utter twat?

Taehyung would be there, too, on Jeongguk's arm in something gorgeous, in a silk shirt this time, maybe, something that creates this fantastic silhouette of broad shoulders and a tiny waist. Maybe they wouldn't stand too close to his painting, maybe he'd simply stare at people as they gawk at beauty unfathomable. Or maybe he wouldn't bring Taehyung at all. Maybe he'd keep him hidden away at home and let people wonder if someone so spectacular truly can exist.

Maybe they'd ask him who the boy in the picture is. Maybe he'd shrug, maybe he'd say his muse, maybe he'd say an angel. No matter which he'd choose, it wouldn't be a lie.

"Can I call you?" Jeongguk brings himself to ask, acknowledging that there's not much reason for them to get together now that Taehyung's whims have been lived out. He'd still like to see him, though, it just means being a little more upfront about his fondness. "After I see Jimin. Tomorrow, maybe. I don't want to seem clingy if you've got plans or anything, I just thought maybe we could do something, or just talk. I don't mind. Or if you don't want, that's cool too. I would, though. Not mind. Just — okay, maybe I would mind. I'd mind if you didn't want me to. Do you want me to?"

"Jeongguk," Taehyung exhales, smile resurfacing on his face finally. And it's a real one again. "Of course I want you to call me. Whenever. I'm free whenever."

"Okay."

Then they get dressed, the two of them. Taehyung tries to put his clothes from last night back on but Jeongguk insists he wear his button up if he needs one because Taehyung's is much too wet, and he only really has sweatpants at this moment in time (he makes a note to fix that later if Jimin ever takes on his art) but Taehyung is grateful for them when he puts them on.

Taehyung's sat cross legged on the floor with Twix in his lap when Jeongguk leaves the shower, fresh and presentable, but he stands up immediately — back straight, brushing off the sweatpants as though a speck of dust should be a crime.

"You don't have to stand when I come in, you know. It's - uh - it's good if you start feeling comfortable around here," Jeongguk notes. The blond boy nods with one of those smiles that doesn't suit his face properly and doesn't reach his eyes that Jeongguk decides that he hates.

"Your clothes are really soft." Taehyung's topic change seems slightly random, but watching him rub his cheek up against his sleeve is a sight so endearing that Jeongguk forgets they'd ever spoken about anything else.

"I have sensitive skin," Jeongguk mumbles, making sure he has the drawing from yesterday on him and ready for when his taxi (or Yoongi, if you prefer to give him a name) arrives. "Maybe it's too soft. Do you not like it? I can probably find something less soft for you to wear."

Taehyung's back to a small laugh and he shakes his head. He's holding his wet clothes under his arm even though Jeongguk offered to put them in the tumble dryer for him.

"You're cute," Taehyung says with a huff and Jeongguk leads the way to the front door to distract from the apparent heat creeping onto his cheeks that Taehyung most definitely doesn't notice. "So, you promise you'll call me? Even if Jimin tells you that you need to find a new model?"

"I promise, even though he wouldn't do that. He said he liked your body, like, a million times," Jeongguk makes Taehyung snort, and it's not a pretty sound by any means but it's real and it's so full of personality that he thinks he might probably adore it.

"I'm starting to think I should just sell my existence to a picture frame. I'm good at being a pretty face, people like me when I'm being a pretty face," it's said with a lighthearted smile, but the words feel heartfelt and solemn. Jeongguk doesn't like them, they make his lungs heavy with a sort of pressure that urges a response.

"I like you when you talk."

And it probably sounds dumb. It definitely sounds dumb. Jeongguk likes Taehyung for reasons other than when he talks, and although he's not consciously aware of them yet, he's sure they're there. For now, though, 'I like you when you talk' is the only truth he can put into words. Taehyung smiles. Taehyung smiles and it isn't fake and it isn't pitiful and that's okay. He smiles and then he looks down, the bowing of his head in the closest he's been to embarrassment being the only thanks Jeongguk needs.

"Can I kiss you again? Before I leave?"

Jeongguk's lips part, is this what he was thinking about? He shakes the smile off before it comes, because Taehyung is thinking about how he wants to kiss him right now. It's something he doesn't want to leave without. Things are okay, things have been forgiven. Jeongguk has a lot of questions, Taehyung probably has his fair share but they have time just not right now and that's okay. Things are okay and Taehyung wants to kiss Jeongguk before he leaves.

"Yes," he breathes and then Taehyung's taking just one step closer and pressing his lips so gently against Jeongguk's that it's almost criminal. To be able to feel his heat, to smell his scent so close by, it feels like injustice not to have it all at once, but that's not what this is.

He takes the bait and rocks forwards just a bit more so that their lips meet properly and he places his hand on Taehyung's shoulder before they pull apart.

"Thank you," Taehyung says, neither of the two doing much in the way of stepping backwards yet. "For letting me stay, for being so kind. I really appreciate all you do for me."

"It's okay, blossom," Jeongguk whispers. Taehyung's silent, then, and he pecks Jeongguk's lips just one more time (albeit a little slower, a bit more lingering).

But Jeongguk's phone starts ringing and he becomes aware of the time. They lock his apartment, take the elevator to the bottom floor, they hug each other, Taehyung politely refuses Yoongi's offer to drive him home, and they go their separate ways.

"Are you okay?" is the first question Yoongi asks when they're alone, and the worry circulating the question makes Jeongguk's gut try to sink, but he doesn't let it — he's happy right now.

"I'm really, really okay," Jeongguk responds.

"Well... This is new. I haven't seen that smile before, but I suppose this means I can take the baseball bat out of my trunk and put it back in its glass case. It's a solemn day for all of us," Yoongi says and off they go in the direction of the bar Jimin had arranged this meeting at.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
n-nearly 10k uhh thank you so
much for bearing with my emo
ass while i put this together ):