baekri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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kkaeppsong2015-06-01 08:32 pm
baekri) wrote in kkaeppsong2015-06-01 08:32 pm
alarm clock
alarm clock
sugakookie
3057 words
jeongguk remembers what it was like the first time that yoongi sucked him off.
he remembers the slide of his tongue, the perfect, wet heat of his mouth. he remembers the look in his eyes, the embarrassing sounds that he made and the way that he came in five minutes or less. he remembers the marks on his wrist, near the heel of his hand, where he was biting into his own skin just to try and keep from screaming.
good, huh?
that’s what yoongi had said. jeongguk remembers. and he was fucking addicted.
he remembers more on nights like this. it’s easier to remember when he’s part of the crowd, right at the front watching yoongi perform with an energy that only comes to life at times like this. he watches the way that he presents himself, the way that he transforms, merging with the music and the lyrics that are as much as part of him as his skin and his lungs and his breath.
it’s hard not to remember. it’s even harder when he’s spitting lyrics like that, words that make his head spin, my tongue will make you come. it’s the point, more or less. yoongi doesn’t get that blunt, because he’s too lyrical for that. in reality he’s spitting shit about hong kong but all jeongguk can zone in on are his expressions and the way that this ridiculous confidence, charisma radiate off of him in waves that are almost overpowering.
fuck.
it’s electric. it’s something going off inside of him, a burn that refuses to back down. maybe it’s because he’s had a couple of drinks. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen yoongi actually perform in a while. maybe it’s none of those things but it’s there and he knows it. he can feel it like a tangible thing between them, so heavy that he can almost hear the crackling in the air when they make eye contact.
it snaps.
it snaps just like his back against the doorframe, funny because this is the first time that he’s ever been to yoongi’s apartment. he doesn’t know what it looks like, doesn’t care enough to find out because the only thing that matters is that yoongi is right here with him. he’s all familiar weight and a familiar scent and jeongguk can tell he’s gained at least an inch or so over him in the year that’s passed since they’ve been up close and personal like this, but it doesn’t change anything.
the only thing that’s different is that jeongguk isn’t a shy, curious, inexperienced seventeen year old boy anymore. he’s just as horny as he used to be but there’s something else there, something that comes with the way that the heat flows through his veins and burns him up just with the way that yoongi looks at him.
the way that yoongi sucks him off is the same. the familiar slide of his tongue, the heat, the sharp pleasure that shoots up his spine and makes it impossible to think or breathe or even fucking exist. jeongguk is more controlled than he used to be but he’s no less vocal, curses and embarrassing whimpers and his head knocking back against the wall, brow furrowed and fingers tangled, making a mess of yoongi’s hair. yoongi doesn’t take his time. he isn’t slow or careful because the tangible something still moving between them is too much for that.
jeongguk comes with a sharp groan and yoongi’s fingers pressed hard into his hips to keep him from bucking up and choking him. when he opens his eyes and his vision focuses again it’s still there, that energy buzzing so strongly that he swears he can hear it. yoongi licks his lips and doesn’t look away and it’s not like jeongguk can resist something like that.
yoongi doesn’t see it coming. it’s different and unexpected and jeongguk can tell by the way that he looks at him, the curious little sound he makes in between being backed up until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he has to sit down. the heat in his gaze is unwavering just like the way that jeongguk straddles him without hesitation, hurried kisses pressed against yoongi’s neck and fingers on a mission to explore more of him than he ever did before.
it takes less than thirty seconds to pop open the button on yoongi’s jeans, for jeongguk’s hand to boldly slip between fabric and skin. yoongi is hard, and that’s all that he needs.
it’s not much of anything. it’s just a handjob, firm and rushed with every intent to get him off and nothing else. but it’s enough. it’s enough to hear yoongi’s breathing stuttering underneath him for once, to feel the way that he nips skin and presses quiet groans into jeongguk’s neck.
yoongi comes, and jeongguk feels satisfied.
💣💣💣
it doesn’t stop there.
it’s easy enough to settle back into their old routine. days at the shop are slow and jeongguk is better at asking for what he wants. that or yoongi is just more willing to give into it this time around, now that jeongguk is older and they’ve both jumped into this headfirst already.
it’s that electricity. it’s always there, it lingers under the surface but occasionally there’s that something else. occasionally it’s like jeongguk can hear it, that crackle of static in his ear that sets off a chain reaction.
💣💣💣
it’s more than just sex.
yoongi realizes that on a lazy sunday afternoon, when he’s just barely rolled out of bed, sitting in sweatpants on the hardwood floor of his studio apartment. his eyes are protesting the light that’s streaming in between the breaks in the blinds but holding a wire toy in place while cypher flops around and plays is an easy enough way to ease back into reality.
jeongguk has been there for a few hours and he knows it. he came over for a nap because no one else understands the necessity of sleep quite like they do and they share an ability to fall into it for hours and hours on end without suffering any negative consequences.
that, and they enjoy the company.
he knows that jeongguk is there but he doesn’t realize how close he is until there’s no space between them at all. jeongguk is right there, leaning down so that he can smile and kiss yoongi square on the mouth.
it lasts all of two seconds before it’s over and jeongguk is straightening back up and continuing on his mission to raid yoongi’s fridge.
yoongi smiles, dangling the toy in front of cypher’s face and laughing when she finally catches it.
💣💣💣
jeongguk is a physical person more often than not, and yoongi knows that.
but the thing is, jeongguk isn’t physical with everyone. he plays along for the most part but it’s noticeable, the way he’ll shrug jimin’s arm off of his shoulders sometimes or pull back when hoseok tries to grab and pinch at his cheeks. it’s few and far between, the times when he initiates it himself, but it all comes down to who you are and where.
they’ve always been close. yoongi is comfortable, like coming home after a long day at work. jeongguk has never minded touching him, being touched by him.
lately, it’s more and more. almost like a constant, and yoongi would be lying if he tried to convince himself that he didn’t like it just as much.
but still, the basis of their relationship doesn’t lie there. it’s somewhere else, a deeper rooted connection that always comes first. everything else is like a bonus, something extra to supplement the material like the way that jeongguk seats himself comfortably on his lap, yoongi’s chin tucked over his shoulder while they go over lyrics.
the way that jeongguk lays across him, half asleep while they listen to music and waste the day away adds an extra layer to everything that yoongi didn’t know he was missing when he reaches out with gentle fingers to push jeongguk’s hair away from his face.
💣💣💣
having sex with jeongguk is something that yoongi wants to do, but he doesn’t know if he should do.
it’s stupid, ironic to think things like that when he’s made jeongguk come undone far too many times to count. he’s seen him at his most vulnerable, has learned such intimate details about his body that it’s starting to feel more like second nature than anything else. he can get jeongguk there as fast or as slow as he wants to, and the younger boy is always so completely willing, open, defenseless in yoongi’s hands.
it’s easier to be in control than to let yourself be vulnerable. yoongi still isn’t entirely used to the way that it pulls at something deep inside him when jeongguk reciprocates, when he touches him with a kind of curious urgency that spells out everything about him.
he wants to. jeongguk wants him to. he can see it in his eyes, in the way that his lips part and he might as well be whispering, using a low voice to try and coax yoongi into this but he doesn’t have to. yoongi can hear him, like jeongguk has a direct line into his brain, a mutual understanding that allows for such an effortless ebb and flow between them.
he wants to, but it opens another door. it will send him deeper, will send them farther down a curious path that he still isn’t sure if this relationship has already started on.
fuck it.
in the end, it doesn’t matter. he’ll fall headfirst, faster because jeongguk is taking the plunge with him, even if they don’t talk about it.
life is too short for those kinds of regrets.
💣💣💣
when yoongi’s caller i.d. lights up with ‘jeongguk’ at roughly four in the afternoon, he knows that something is wrong.
the voice that comes through the receiver is all wrong. jeongguk has never once invited him to his apartment but this isn’t so much an invitation as a necessity. it doesn’t matter what yoongi was doing, what kind of inspiration or vibe he was taking advantage of to work through his next project in one shot.
what matters is that jeongguk never calls. he hates it, always prefers texting and it’s just another thing that they have in common. what matters is that he didn’t sound like himself and thank god yoongi’s apartment isn’t far from where he knows that jeongguk lives.
twenty minutes later has him stepping into an apartment that’s entirely unfamiliar. it’s bigger than his own, an obviously shared space but yoongi doesn’t focus on that. he focuses on the way that jeongguk’s hands are shaking, the way that he can’t look him in the eye which is strange because that isn’t something that usually poses a problem. jeongguk looks younger like this, somehow. he doesn’t look like the almost nineteen year old that he is. he looks like he did when yoongi first met him, when he was seventeen and still lost, still unsure, still trying to figure everything out.
in the grand scheme of things, not much has changed.
yoongi doesn’t push for anything. he doesn’t say anything at first, just takes up a space on jeongguk’s bed, bigger than he expected, and lets the younger boy come to him. he does, pressing close with fingers sinking into yoongi’s shirt, so close that yoongi can practically feel how hard his heart is pounding, how his breathing isn’t normal and concern blankets everything he does, everything he thinks.
“breathe,” is what he finally settles on, running his own touch up and down jeongguk’s back with slow, steady motions. “just breathe, jeongguk. i’ve got you.”
he doesn’t tell him to stop worrying, or whatever it is that jeongguk is doing. he doesn’t tell him not to be scared, he doesn’t tell him that it’s okay. because the thing is, yoongi doesn’t know if it is.
yoongi stays until jeongguk falls asleep. and then he stays a little bit more. the sound of jeongguk’s breathing, slow and steady and back to normal, for the most part, helps him sort through all of the things jeongguk tried explaining to him.
the feeling of never being good enough. the overwhelming sense that everything is crashing down around you, the weight of suddenly having so many opportunities when you came from nothing. the lingering memories of the past, the way that you can never really shake it no matter how much you want to. the struggle of trying to deal with it quietly, all under wraps, to compartmentalize and ignore and stifle until it all spills itself over just like this.
jeongguk comes from a place that yoongi never would have expected. he never knew the full story and he still doesn’t, but he has bits and pieces. he has what jeongguk has given him and that’s more than enough.
you are enough. it’s what he had wanted to say. you’ve always been enough. you’re everything.
his tongue had tripped and clamped down over the words, keeping them safely inside where they couldn’t add another layer onto the weight that jeongguk already struggled underneath. he has enough on his shoulders. the last thing that yoongi wants to trigger is some kind of fight or flight response, something to make jeongguk second guess all of this in the first place.
he just hopes that jeongguk knows him well enough, that he can understand enough to hear all of the things that linger in the back of his mind in the way that he touches him, the soft kisses and murmurs of nothing in particular.
his phone reads two a.m. when he finally leaves. jeongguk is still asleep and yoongi knows him well enough to know that he would have asked if he had wanted him to stay the night.
he nearly runs into taehyung in the hallway, a brush of shoulders and a curious look but yoongi doesn’t answer his questions.
jeongguk will tell him, if he wants to.
💣💣💣
jeongguk likes spending hours in yoongi’s bed.
he likes it especially on days like this, when he can lay on his side and watch the way that the rain hits the window, steady drops that lull him into that familiar place between reality and a dream. it’s a place that he associates with yoongi, a state of mind that he somehow shares with the older man, something sacred between the two of them.
it’s perfect like this. it’s perfect even though his clothes have been scattered everywhere, because self-conscious is the last thing he feels around yoongi. instead he focuses on the nonsensical, winding paths that fingers make against his back, tracing shapes and leading to destinations that always end up nowhere.
he smiles when yoongi’s arm winds its way around his waist, when those fingers are splayed out and pressed against his stomach instead, pulling him close. yoongi presses his nose into jeongguk’s hair, nuzzles against him sleepily and jeongguk surrenders himself over, falls into the dream completely.
because that’s what this is. that’s just what it feels like. a dream. too good to be true.
jeongguk knows that it doesn’t have to be.
💣💣💣
neither of them expect it to happen.
that’s what yoongi tells himself, but even so there’s something in the back of his mind, something telling him that he’s known this was coming all along.
it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it isn’t easy.
“hyung.”
jeongguk’s voice is quiet, but sure of himself. more sure of himself than he’s ever sounded, yoongi thinks, and it’s a good thing. it’s good for him. good for them. it has to be.
“if taehyung wasn’t …”
he trails off. he doesn’t have to finish the thought, the sentence, because yoongi knows.
they would be perfect for each other. they would keep doing the same thing they’ve been doing. jeongguk would be everything and maybe he could be, too.
yoongi isn’t naive enough to think that every person only has one soulmate. it’s improbable, but all of them are different. taehyung is different. for jeongguk, he’s everything, and if things were meant to stay then they would.
“i know,” he says, and he smiles, because he’s okay.
💣💣💣
when yoongi travels, it isn’t to escape the situation. it isn’t to get away from jeongguk. it isn’t because his heart is broken.
it’s because there’s a part of him that feels like it can breathe again. it’s because jeongguk peeled back the layers and made him realize what he’s missing, that there’s no time to be so hesitant. life is like a ticking time bomb and the last thing that he needs to do is waste it.
he isn’t getting any younger. he’s always wanted to travel to america, so fuck it.
💣💣💣
six months in l.a. pass by quickly and slowly all at the same time. it’s a strange thrill, a rush to find himself somewhere new, to leave the shop and everything else behind for a little while.
💣💣💣
when he comes back with pink hair and a gummy smile, to jeongguk practically tackling him and everything the same as when he left it, he knows that he made the right decision.
he sees the progress he’s made, the way he’s kept on the same path even without his constant coaching and guidance. he sees the first raps that jeongguk has shared and performed without his revisions and input. he sees the way that his entire being practically lights up as soon as taehyung walks into his shop, the way that it’s reflected right back and the two of them fit together like it’s perfect.
he sees a confidence that didn’t exist before, a jeongguk who’s sure of himself, who’s really grown up this time around. and he feels the same way.
but it’s comfortable, it’s familiar when jeongguk tires himself out from chattering nonstop. it’s like he never even left, sitting on the couch in his shop with jeongguk curled up, leaning against his side, sleeping while neither of them even come close to doing their jobs.
yoongi doesn’t miss jeongguk, because he never left. he has him right here.
right where he’s supposed to be.
sugakookie
3057 words
jeongguk remembers what it was like the first time that yoongi sucked him off.
he remembers the slide of his tongue, the perfect, wet heat of his mouth. he remembers the look in his eyes, the embarrassing sounds that he made and the way that he came in five minutes or less. he remembers the marks on his wrist, near the heel of his hand, where he was biting into his own skin just to try and keep from screaming.
good, huh?
that’s what yoongi had said. jeongguk remembers. and he was fucking addicted.
he remembers more on nights like this. it’s easier to remember when he’s part of the crowd, right at the front watching yoongi perform with an energy that only comes to life at times like this. he watches the way that he presents himself, the way that he transforms, merging with the music and the lyrics that are as much as part of him as his skin and his lungs and his breath.
it’s hard not to remember. it’s even harder when he’s spitting lyrics like that, words that make his head spin, my tongue will make you come. it’s the point, more or less. yoongi doesn’t get that blunt, because he’s too lyrical for that. in reality he’s spitting shit about hong kong but all jeongguk can zone in on are his expressions and the way that this ridiculous confidence, charisma radiate off of him in waves that are almost overpowering.
fuck.
it’s electric. it’s something going off inside of him, a burn that refuses to back down. maybe it’s because he’s had a couple of drinks. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen yoongi actually perform in a while. maybe it’s none of those things but it’s there and he knows it. he can feel it like a tangible thing between them, so heavy that he can almost hear the crackling in the air when they make eye contact.
it snaps.
it snaps just like his back against the doorframe, funny because this is the first time that he’s ever been to yoongi’s apartment. he doesn’t know what it looks like, doesn’t care enough to find out because the only thing that matters is that yoongi is right here with him. he’s all familiar weight and a familiar scent and jeongguk can tell he’s gained at least an inch or so over him in the year that’s passed since they’ve been up close and personal like this, but it doesn’t change anything.
the only thing that’s different is that jeongguk isn’t a shy, curious, inexperienced seventeen year old boy anymore. he’s just as horny as he used to be but there’s something else there, something that comes with the way that the heat flows through his veins and burns him up just with the way that yoongi looks at him.
the way that yoongi sucks him off is the same. the familiar slide of his tongue, the heat, the sharp pleasure that shoots up his spine and makes it impossible to think or breathe or even fucking exist. jeongguk is more controlled than he used to be but he’s no less vocal, curses and embarrassing whimpers and his head knocking back against the wall, brow furrowed and fingers tangled, making a mess of yoongi’s hair. yoongi doesn’t take his time. he isn’t slow or careful because the tangible something still moving between them is too much for that.
jeongguk comes with a sharp groan and yoongi’s fingers pressed hard into his hips to keep him from bucking up and choking him. when he opens his eyes and his vision focuses again it’s still there, that energy buzzing so strongly that he swears he can hear it. yoongi licks his lips and doesn’t look away and it’s not like jeongguk can resist something like that.
yoongi doesn’t see it coming. it’s different and unexpected and jeongguk can tell by the way that he looks at him, the curious little sound he makes in between being backed up until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he has to sit down. the heat in his gaze is unwavering just like the way that jeongguk straddles him without hesitation, hurried kisses pressed against yoongi’s neck and fingers on a mission to explore more of him than he ever did before.
it takes less than thirty seconds to pop open the button on yoongi’s jeans, for jeongguk’s hand to boldly slip between fabric and skin. yoongi is hard, and that’s all that he needs.
it’s not much of anything. it’s just a handjob, firm and rushed with every intent to get him off and nothing else. but it’s enough. it’s enough to hear yoongi’s breathing stuttering underneath him for once, to feel the way that he nips skin and presses quiet groans into jeongguk’s neck.
yoongi comes, and jeongguk feels satisfied.
💣💣💣
it doesn’t stop there.
it’s easy enough to settle back into their old routine. days at the shop are slow and jeongguk is better at asking for what he wants. that or yoongi is just more willing to give into it this time around, now that jeongguk is older and they’ve both jumped into this headfirst already.
it’s that electricity. it’s always there, it lingers under the surface but occasionally there’s that something else. occasionally it’s like jeongguk can hear it, that crackle of static in his ear that sets off a chain reaction.
💣💣💣
it’s more than just sex.
yoongi realizes that on a lazy sunday afternoon, when he’s just barely rolled out of bed, sitting in sweatpants on the hardwood floor of his studio apartment. his eyes are protesting the light that’s streaming in between the breaks in the blinds but holding a wire toy in place while cypher flops around and plays is an easy enough way to ease back into reality.
jeongguk has been there for a few hours and he knows it. he came over for a nap because no one else understands the necessity of sleep quite like they do and they share an ability to fall into it for hours and hours on end without suffering any negative consequences.
that, and they enjoy the company.
he knows that jeongguk is there but he doesn’t realize how close he is until there’s no space between them at all. jeongguk is right there, leaning down so that he can smile and kiss yoongi square on the mouth.
it lasts all of two seconds before it’s over and jeongguk is straightening back up and continuing on his mission to raid yoongi’s fridge.
yoongi smiles, dangling the toy in front of cypher’s face and laughing when she finally catches it.
💣💣💣
jeongguk is a physical person more often than not, and yoongi knows that.
but the thing is, jeongguk isn’t physical with everyone. he plays along for the most part but it’s noticeable, the way he’ll shrug jimin’s arm off of his shoulders sometimes or pull back when hoseok tries to grab and pinch at his cheeks. it’s few and far between, the times when he initiates it himself, but it all comes down to who you are and where.
they’ve always been close. yoongi is comfortable, like coming home after a long day at work. jeongguk has never minded touching him, being touched by him.
lately, it’s more and more. almost like a constant, and yoongi would be lying if he tried to convince himself that he didn’t like it just as much.
but still, the basis of their relationship doesn’t lie there. it’s somewhere else, a deeper rooted connection that always comes first. everything else is like a bonus, something extra to supplement the material like the way that jeongguk seats himself comfortably on his lap, yoongi’s chin tucked over his shoulder while they go over lyrics.
the way that jeongguk lays across him, half asleep while they listen to music and waste the day away adds an extra layer to everything that yoongi didn’t know he was missing when he reaches out with gentle fingers to push jeongguk’s hair away from his face.
💣💣💣
having sex with jeongguk is something that yoongi wants to do, but he doesn’t know if he should do.
it’s stupid, ironic to think things like that when he’s made jeongguk come undone far too many times to count. he’s seen him at his most vulnerable, has learned such intimate details about his body that it’s starting to feel more like second nature than anything else. he can get jeongguk there as fast or as slow as he wants to, and the younger boy is always so completely willing, open, defenseless in yoongi’s hands.
it’s easier to be in control than to let yourself be vulnerable. yoongi still isn’t entirely used to the way that it pulls at something deep inside him when jeongguk reciprocates, when he touches him with a kind of curious urgency that spells out everything about him.
he wants to. jeongguk wants him to. he can see it in his eyes, in the way that his lips part and he might as well be whispering, using a low voice to try and coax yoongi into this but he doesn’t have to. yoongi can hear him, like jeongguk has a direct line into his brain, a mutual understanding that allows for such an effortless ebb and flow between them.
he wants to, but it opens another door. it will send him deeper, will send them farther down a curious path that he still isn’t sure if this relationship has already started on.
fuck it.
in the end, it doesn’t matter. he’ll fall headfirst, faster because jeongguk is taking the plunge with him, even if they don’t talk about it.
life is too short for those kinds of regrets.
💣💣💣
when yoongi’s caller i.d. lights up with ‘jeongguk’ at roughly four in the afternoon, he knows that something is wrong.
the voice that comes through the receiver is all wrong. jeongguk has never once invited him to his apartment but this isn’t so much an invitation as a necessity. it doesn’t matter what yoongi was doing, what kind of inspiration or vibe he was taking advantage of to work through his next project in one shot.
what matters is that jeongguk never calls. he hates it, always prefers texting and it’s just another thing that they have in common. what matters is that he didn’t sound like himself and thank god yoongi’s apartment isn’t far from where he knows that jeongguk lives.
twenty minutes later has him stepping into an apartment that’s entirely unfamiliar. it’s bigger than his own, an obviously shared space but yoongi doesn’t focus on that. he focuses on the way that jeongguk’s hands are shaking, the way that he can’t look him in the eye which is strange because that isn’t something that usually poses a problem. jeongguk looks younger like this, somehow. he doesn’t look like the almost nineteen year old that he is. he looks like he did when yoongi first met him, when he was seventeen and still lost, still unsure, still trying to figure everything out.
in the grand scheme of things, not much has changed.
yoongi doesn’t push for anything. he doesn’t say anything at first, just takes up a space on jeongguk’s bed, bigger than he expected, and lets the younger boy come to him. he does, pressing close with fingers sinking into yoongi’s shirt, so close that yoongi can practically feel how hard his heart is pounding, how his breathing isn’t normal and concern blankets everything he does, everything he thinks.
“breathe,” is what he finally settles on, running his own touch up and down jeongguk’s back with slow, steady motions. “just breathe, jeongguk. i’ve got you.”
he doesn’t tell him to stop worrying, or whatever it is that jeongguk is doing. he doesn’t tell him not to be scared, he doesn’t tell him that it’s okay. because the thing is, yoongi doesn’t know if it is.
yoongi stays until jeongguk falls asleep. and then he stays a little bit more. the sound of jeongguk’s breathing, slow and steady and back to normal, for the most part, helps him sort through all of the things jeongguk tried explaining to him.
the feeling of never being good enough. the overwhelming sense that everything is crashing down around you, the weight of suddenly having so many opportunities when you came from nothing. the lingering memories of the past, the way that you can never really shake it no matter how much you want to. the struggle of trying to deal with it quietly, all under wraps, to compartmentalize and ignore and stifle until it all spills itself over just like this.
jeongguk comes from a place that yoongi never would have expected. he never knew the full story and he still doesn’t, but he has bits and pieces. he has what jeongguk has given him and that’s more than enough.
you are enough. it’s what he had wanted to say. you’ve always been enough. you’re everything.
his tongue had tripped and clamped down over the words, keeping them safely inside where they couldn’t add another layer onto the weight that jeongguk already struggled underneath. he has enough on his shoulders. the last thing that yoongi wants to trigger is some kind of fight or flight response, something to make jeongguk second guess all of this in the first place.
he just hopes that jeongguk knows him well enough, that he can understand enough to hear all of the things that linger in the back of his mind in the way that he touches him, the soft kisses and murmurs of nothing in particular.
his phone reads two a.m. when he finally leaves. jeongguk is still asleep and yoongi knows him well enough to know that he would have asked if he had wanted him to stay the night.
he nearly runs into taehyung in the hallway, a brush of shoulders and a curious look but yoongi doesn’t answer his questions.
jeongguk will tell him, if he wants to.
💣💣💣
jeongguk likes spending hours in yoongi’s bed.
he likes it especially on days like this, when he can lay on his side and watch the way that the rain hits the window, steady drops that lull him into that familiar place between reality and a dream. it’s a place that he associates with yoongi, a state of mind that he somehow shares with the older man, something sacred between the two of them.
it’s perfect like this. it’s perfect even though his clothes have been scattered everywhere, because self-conscious is the last thing he feels around yoongi. instead he focuses on the nonsensical, winding paths that fingers make against his back, tracing shapes and leading to destinations that always end up nowhere.
he smiles when yoongi’s arm winds its way around his waist, when those fingers are splayed out and pressed against his stomach instead, pulling him close. yoongi presses his nose into jeongguk’s hair, nuzzles against him sleepily and jeongguk surrenders himself over, falls into the dream completely.
because that’s what this is. that’s just what it feels like. a dream. too good to be true.
jeongguk knows that it doesn’t have to be.
💣💣💣
neither of them expect it to happen.
that’s what yoongi tells himself, but even so there’s something in the back of his mind, something telling him that he’s known this was coming all along.
it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it isn’t easy.
“hyung.”
jeongguk’s voice is quiet, but sure of himself. more sure of himself than he’s ever sounded, yoongi thinks, and it’s a good thing. it’s good for him. good for them. it has to be.
“if taehyung wasn’t …”
he trails off. he doesn’t have to finish the thought, the sentence, because yoongi knows.
they would be perfect for each other. they would keep doing the same thing they’ve been doing. jeongguk would be everything and maybe he could be, too.
yoongi isn’t naive enough to think that every person only has one soulmate. it’s improbable, but all of them are different. taehyung is different. for jeongguk, he’s everything, and if things were meant to stay then they would.
“i know,” he says, and he smiles, because he’s okay.
💣💣💣
when yoongi travels, it isn’t to escape the situation. it isn’t to get away from jeongguk. it isn’t because his heart is broken.
it’s because there’s a part of him that feels like it can breathe again. it’s because jeongguk peeled back the layers and made him realize what he’s missing, that there’s no time to be so hesitant. life is like a ticking time bomb and the last thing that he needs to do is waste it.
he isn’t getting any younger. he’s always wanted to travel to america, so fuck it.
💣💣💣
six months in l.a. pass by quickly and slowly all at the same time. it’s a strange thrill, a rush to find himself somewhere new, to leave the shop and everything else behind for a little while.
💣💣💣
when he comes back with pink hair and a gummy smile, to jeongguk practically tackling him and everything the same as when he left it, he knows that he made the right decision.
he sees the progress he’s made, the way he’s kept on the same path even without his constant coaching and guidance. he sees the first raps that jeongguk has shared and performed without his revisions and input. he sees the way that his entire being practically lights up as soon as taehyung walks into his shop, the way that it’s reflected right back and the two of them fit together like it’s perfect.
he sees a confidence that didn’t exist before, a jeongguk who’s sure of himself, who’s really grown up this time around. and he feels the same way.
but it’s comfortable, it’s familiar when jeongguk tires himself out from chattering nonstop. it’s like he never even left, sitting on the couch in his shop with jeongguk curled up, leaning against his side, sleeping while neither of them even come close to doing their jobs.
yoongi doesn’t miss jeongguk, because he never left. he has him right here.
right where he’s supposed to be.