Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first time Jeongguk meets Taehyung, it’s in the black of night.

He’s hiding in a dismally dark airing cupboard, nursing a bottle of beer and waiting for the evening to be over. It’s the week before most university courses begin, and so everyone is spending their few remaining days of freedom doing what all students do best: drink until they do something they regret.

He figured he should go to the first party of the year, but he quickly discovered that parties are only fun if you know people, if you spot a friend of a friend to catch up with. Unfortunately, Seokjin and Namjoon are still busy unpacking all the boxes in their apartment. What snakes, honestly. They couldn’t even be here to support Jeongguk as he indulges his mild alcoholism issue. They’re supposed to be looking out for him - some hyungs they are.

So after being ambushed by too many a drunk girl wishing to make advances on him, he decided to wait things out in this cramped little room and enjoy his brewed barley in peace.

At least, it is peaceful until the door flings open and someone else jumps in. They shut the door as quickly and as furiously as they opened it, and then press their back against the other wall.

Jeongguk is astonished. “Dude, what the fuck-”

Before he can finish his sentence though, the guy clamps his hand over Jeongguk’s mouth. As in, he puts his hand. Over his mouth. What the hell?

“Shush,” he says, softly, holding a finger up to his own lips. There’s not a lot of space here - it’s an airing cupboard after all - so their faces are literally millimetres away from each other. He’s only a few inches taller than Jeongguk. He can’t really tell without light, but Jeongguk thinks he has blond hair - probably bleached. His eyebrows are stark and dark though. They frame his almond-shaped eyes, the same ones that are staring right into Jeongguk’s. He feels weirdly naked right now.

He’s about to ask why they have to keep quiet - and also who the fuck this guy thinks he is - when he hears it: the footsteps outside in the hallway, quick-paced and urgent. “Taehyung?” a voice calls. It’s more of a bellow actually - boomy and loud and straight from the chest. “Taehyung? What the fuck man... where are you? I just want to talk.”

He doesn’t, the stranger - Taehyung, presumably - mouths.

“Taehyung... where the hell did you disappear...? Dude, it’s chill. We can talk through this. Come out so we can talk through this.”

Taehyung stays deathly quiet, his breaths nonexistent as he waits in anticipation. He’s still looking directly at Jeongguk, and it would be super disconcerting if it weren’t for the fact that the whole eye-contact thing is hardly the weirdest part of this situation.

They hear the footsteps getting louder as the person approaches the cupboard. Taehyung’s eyebrow twitches. Then, the footsteps pad away, slowly growing quiet as they make their way to the other end of the hall.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Taehyung mouths, although Jeongguk doesn’t think he actually wants a response from him so he stays quiet. Cautiously, he cracks the door open again, peeps his head out, then sighs in relief.

He slowly removes his hand, and before he leaves, he turns to face Jeongguk again, whispers, “Thank you.” And then he winks - salaciously, teasingly, the sort of thing that would make you combust if you watched it in slow motion, if you replayed it in your head.

And then he’s gone as quickly as he came.

Jeongguk just stands there for a little bit, unable to even comprehend what just happened. It all occurred too fast for him to even process it. Is this what college kids are like? Fucking maniacs? He can’t decide whether he likes that or not.

He stays inside the cupboard for a little while longer, taking occasional swigs of his beer and being alone with his thoughts, which never helped anyone. He thinks about how exhausted he is, how much he misses Busan already. He thinks about Taehyung’s lingering touch. About the fact that, even after the guy leaves, he can still feel the ghost of his hand on his face.

Sunyeong National University - what a place.

Standing in front of it now, in the breezy warmth of March, it looks exactly like it did in those brochures: shiny and bright and brilliant. The sheen of the modern, boxed buildings reminds him of Seoul, which makes sense as it’s incredibly close to the city - north of the country - which means it’s practically the furthest away he could be from Busan. He didn’t think he’d be the sort of person to get home-sick: he’s independent, he’s ready for university life, he’s living on a campus that looks like a movie set. And yet... there’s a part of him that wants to open his bedroom window everyday and smell the saltiness of the sea, run onto a beach. There sure as hell aren’t any beaches in Sunyeong.

He’s put off moving into his dorms long enough, opting instead to be a leach in his hyungs’ apartment for the last few days, but alas, classes start tomorrow so he should probably think about settling into his new home.

Seokjin and Namjoon help lug all his bags across campus and up the stairs (“You spoiled brat, why the hell do we do all this shit for you?”) and eventually, they arrive at the place. When he opens the door, he’s greeted with an open-plan kitchen and living room. It’s just like when he’d visited last summer, but now that he’s here, it seems emptier and more clinical than he’d remembered. Down the corridor, he can hear conversation and squawked laughter in another room, and he suddenly feels slightly nervous. He only has himself to blame though - this is what happens when you move in late, don’t make the effort to get to know your housemates beforehand. He can’t say he especially cares either.

“Alright.” He turns towards Seokjin and Namjoon. “You guys can go now - you’ve served your purpose.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “This boy. Refusing to treat your hyungs with respect.”

“Should be used to it by now.”

“Is wishful thinking so wrong?”

“Okay - I love you. I appreciate you. So much. Now get out.”

Seokjin tuts. “And tomorrow, he’ll be calling to ask for my cooking.”

“Oh, absolutely. I like our little arrangement.”

“Yeah, because you’re the only one who stands to gain anything,” Namjoon says.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes in mock confusion. “But you get my company.”

The two of them share a look. “Lucky us.”

“Okay, scum of the earth, we’re leaving now,” Seokjin says, pulling him in for a close hug. Jeongguk squeezes back equally tight. “Call us if anything goes wrong, or if your housemates are dicks, or if you set the oven on fire. We’re here for you.”

“Jin-hyung, you guys are like ten minutes away. Don’t hover; I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but still. Your brother will kill us if anything happens to you.”

“My family really terrorises you, don’t they?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Namjoon says in agreement. He gives Jeongguk a fond squeeze on the shoulder nevertheless. “Alright, look after yourself. Don’t eat ramen noodles every day...” He turns to Jin. “Did we cover everything?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Bye squirt.”

He waves his hyungs goodbye, and mentally braces himself for the next step in his orientation journey: meeting the housemates. At the end of the corridor - with bedrooms either side - there’s a door that leads to a smaller room. It’s essentially another mini living room/study - there are bean bags, a cosy little study nook, and an old CRT television. It’s also only large enough to realistically fit two people, but when Jeongguk opens the entrance, he sees four sprawled out on the floor, their legs tangled with one another: three guys, one girl.

They go deathly quiet when they see him.

Then, one of the guys starts smiling. “Ah, here he is - the mystery fifth.”

“We thought you’d never show up,” another one says. He has bright blonde hair, and Jeongguk instantly recognises his face: ghost-hand guy. He doesn’t make an indication of remembering Jeongguk though (which, fair enough: it was dark and he was most likely off his face) so he doesn’t make a comment.

“Awh look at him,” the girl says. “Look at his ridiculously big suitcase. I remember cramming as well freshman year.”

“You guys aren’t freshmen?” Jeongguk asks.

“Nope, we’re sophomores,” the last guy speaks up.

“Oh, right. Erm, so why-”

“Why are you with us?” party guy (Taehyung?) interrupts. “Beats me. I think they just admitted way too many freshmen this year. Must really value educating the youth of this country.”

“And the fat stacks of student loans,” the first guy says.

“Hmm, yeah, those too.” He continues, “They probably just didn’t have enough rooms for everyone in the freshmen quarters so now they’re just trying to slot you guys in wherever.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Alright.” The girl sits up, palms together. The first thing Jeongguk notices is how ridiculously long her nails are. They’re probably acrylics - they must be - and they’re straight, sharp and pointy like talons. Neon pink. How tasteful. “Let’s do introductions, shall we? You are...?”

“Jeongguk,” he says, feeling like a kid in middle school again. There must be more natural ways of doing this whole thing, right? Something less patronising.

“I’m Mina,” the girl says, flashing him a smile with her pearly white teeth. They’re all strangely attractive people - it’s very intimidating. “That’s Hoseok, Taehyung and Yoongi. Nice to meet you.”

“You know where everything is on campus, right?” Hoseok asks. Jeongguk nods: Seokjin gave him an extensive tour of the whole place earlier in the week; he takes his role as surrogate parent very seriously. “Alright cool - your bedroom’s the one nearest the living room, on the left.”

“Thanks.”

“And don’t touch the seaweed in the fridge,” Yoongi says. He manages to make everything sound like a muffled grumble, even when he’s directly addressing someone. “Or I will skin you.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know whether that was supposed to be a joke, or put him more at ease or something, and when none of the others react to it, he’s just more confused. He cracks a weak smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

And then he closes the door again, starts heading down the hallway. Well. That could’ve gone worse. Probably could’ve gotten better, but it’s clear that they don’t really care much about befriending him and the disinterest is mutual. Anyway, he knows the kind of people they are: beautiful and knowing it, no regard for others. They’re probably the type to be obnoxiously loud in public places like restaurants, or do lines because they’re bored and want something to pass the time. They probably have causal sex with one another - just one big fucking intoxicated circle jerk... plus Mina.

It’s fine. He’ll share a kitchen with them, and he’ll watch TV with them, and he’ll take on cleaning duties with them, but he’s not expecting them to become his second family. This isn’t an American sitcom. They’re not his quirky, loveable neighbours, and that’s okay; he’s used to fending for himself anyway.

In the first few weeks, Jeongguk spends more time at Seokjin and Namjoon’s apartment than he does in the dorms. Their place is probably smaller to be honest (living in the city can be financially unforgiving if you’re a student - you usually can’t be too ambitious) but it’s homely, and smells like Seokjin’s cooking, and they always make time for him.

“You know,” Seokjin says, ladling noodles into a bowl for him, “you’re never going to bond with them if you keep avoiding them.”

“I’m not avoiding them,” Jeongguk says. “Makes it sound like I’m scared of them. I’m not scared. Just can’t be bothered. They’re sophomores and they’re assholes.”

Well, less so now, Jeongguk has to admit - they’re kind of growing on him. He’s said like a total of three sentences to them, but they’re alright enough: they respect his space, and make an extra portion for him whenever they’re cooking for the group, and after eavesdropping on many of their conversations (well, it’s not really eavesdropping if they’re practically shouting - Jeongguk was right: definitely obnoxiously loud), he can confirm that they actually seem like interesting people. Funny, even. They can take a joke as well as they can give one, and Jeongguk thinks that maybe they’d all actually have some good chats if they ever bothered to include him in them - which they don’t, and that’s fine with him.

There is one day though where they suddenly become inexplicably interested in hearing his voice.

It starts off like any other weekend morning: Jeongguk pads into the kitchen to make himself some cereal, and he sits and eats it at the bar instead of at the living room coffee table like the rest of them. Hoseok, Mina and Taehyung watch him curiously from the sofa. He can feel their eyes on him, but makes a point of not looking at them.

“Maybe he’s an alien,” Taehyung says after a while.

“Possibly. Explains the lack of communication - maybe his kind uses telepathy.”

“Do you think his body is just a shell?” Mina muses. “Like, maybe he doesn’t even know how to use his mouth. Because it’s not real.”

“Agreed - his tongue is one hundred percent made of Mars dust.”

See: assholes. Any other group of normal people would just ask him a question like “Where are you from?” or “What degree do you study?” Instead, they just talk shit to get a rise out of him, a reaction. What are they trying to achieve? Jeongguk just stares down harder at his cereal. Mhmm, milk. At this point, Yoongi comes padding down the hallway and into the room, his eyes still puffy with sleep.

“Should we try and initiate a peace treaty?” Taehyung continues. “You know, for the sake of mankind’s future?”

“Nah, we’ve had our fun,” Hoseok says. “I say let the Martians take Earth for a spin.”

“Jesus, stop bothering him,” Yoongi says, giving them all a withering look. He rolls his eyes, glancing at Jeongguk. “Sorry, kid.”

Jeongguk shrugs, continues eating his cereal.

A small smile appears on Yoongi’s face. “You really don’t say much, do you?” Then, he’s sliding something across the counter towards him. “Think you can help me with this?”

Jeongguk blinks a little at the piece of paper. A newspaper crossword. “You still do these?”

“My mum has a shit-ton of them at home, so before I leave for Sunyeong, I cut the puzzle section out of all of them and I have enough to last me the whole semester. Helps keep the mind sharp and all that.”

“Right. And you know the internet exists?”

“Sure - but this is more authentic. Same reason I roll my own cigarettes. The stuff you buy in stores is nasty, you don’t even know what’s in them half the time.”

“Stop trying to make your nicotine addiction a noble thing,” Hoseok retorts. “And stop with this whole ‘authentic’ bullshit.”

“Yoongi thinks the government’s spying on us,” Taehyung supplies.

Yoongi gives him a look that could make a person shrivel on the spot. Taehyung seems unscathed; Jeongguk is impressed. “I don’t. I think large corporations are - which is true - because they want to collate a crap ton of personal data about us - which is also true - so that they can viciously target us with advertisements - another fucking truth - because humans are weak and susceptible to buying crap they don’t need and overconsumption is ruining the Earth, so excuse me if I don’t want some Claire at Facebook HQ knowing that I have a foot fetish and trying to sell me fleshlights.”

These people are crazy.

After the (very short-lived) outburst, he turns back to Jeongguk again. “Anyway, yeah. So.” He gestures to the crossword.

Jeongguk glances at it. “Erm, that one - eleven across, actor who played a French detective in a film released in 1974. It’s Albert Finney: Murder on the Orient Express.”

Yoongi looks at it for a while, then jots it down. “Huh. How’d you know that?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I watch a lot of films.”

He turns back to the others. “See? There are ways to find out more about people without being pricks.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok says. “Let’s all clap for Yoongi, the epitome of friendliness.”

The three of them give a short round of applause, and Yoongi flips the finger at them. Then, he looks back at Jeongguk. “Don’t mind them. They can be insufferable, but usually they only bully people they think can handle it, so. A twisted form of respect, I guess. I dunno, read it how you like.”

Huh, out of the four of them, he wasn’t expecting Yoongi to be his hero-in-disguise, what with the fact that he looks like he’s probably killed a few people in the course of his lifetime. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Yoongi gives him a smile that’s more a grimace than a smile, and goes back to his crossword.

“You got any questions for us, alien boy?” Mina speaks up again, although Jeongguk feels less harassed this time; there’s a playfulness to her tone. “You know, since you’re so averse to talking about yourself.”

“As opposed to you guys, who are overly self-absorbed?” Jeongguk asks. That earns a snort from her.

“Wow. I feel personally attacked,” Taehyung says. “No one has ever spoken such an absolute truth about me.”

“What can I say?” Jeongguk shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’m a good judge of character.” He’s silent for a moment. “Actually, I do have a question. How do you function with those?”

 He gestures to Mina’s nails. She’s changed them at least twice since his moving in - a fortnight ago, they were firehouse red, and now they’re lilac. There’s no consistency or pattern to the colours, and that highkey gets under Jeongguk’s skin. Also, aren’t gels like 50,000 won for each job? How does any student have enough money to be spending that much every week on claws? He will never understand these people.

“Oh these?” Mina holds her hand up to her eyes, inspects them. “I don’t know really, I just do. You get used to them after a while. The only thing I’ve never really managed to master is opening canned drinks, so I make Hoseok do it for me. Can’t risk breaking these babies.”

“It’s because you do it so fucking agressively,” Hoseok grumbles.

“Maybe,” Mina says, in the kind of voice that suggests that she doesn’t think that’s even remotely possible. “And it’s therapeutic in a way, painting them. It’s my happy place.”

Jeongguk’s cereal is soggy now. That’s what happens when he gets ambushed into talking to people instead of just shoving the cornflakes into his mouth. He needs to find a way to stealthily scoop the remaining into the bin without being judged. “You do them yourself?”

“Honey, they’re real.” She wiggles her fingers with a grin. How do they manage to do everything so flirtatiously? Mina could probably open the fridge a certain way, and Jeongguk would interpret it as a mating ritual. “Why do you think I’m so proud of them?”

He shrugs again, annoyed that he no longer has the excuse of eating to avoid responding.

“Hey kid,” Yonongi speaks up, still staring intently at the crossword. “Another film one for you. Nine down - a thriller about a policeman turned pimp, released in 2008.”

“The Chaser,” Jeongguk replies, already standing up to make his way to leave. He doubts any of them will actually care if he scrapes the rest into the bin - they’re hardly the type to lecture him about wasting food. He’s embarrassed for even considering feeling embarrassed about it in the first place.

Yoongi gives him a perfunctory nod of satisfaction before looking down again.

“Leaving so soon, alien boy?” Mina asks, as Jeongguk starts washing up his bowl.

“What can I say? All this social interaction has drained me. I need to recharge.”

“Understandable - see you.”

“What do you do all day alone in your room anyway?” Taehyung asks, as if it’s his right to know. They seem to teeter between being outspoken and irritatingly presumptuous.

“Relay back to my Martian brothers.”

That earns another snort from Mina as he switches off the tap, and heads back down the hallway again. “I like him,” he hears her say as he’s closing the door behind him. “Let’s keep him.”

“This is such a dumb show.”

“Shush,” Mina says, pressing a nail to Jeongguk’s lips, her eyes focused on the screen.

The five of them are squashed onto the two living room sofas, watching an episode of an unbelievably abysmal K-drama. Apparently, it’s broadcasted every Friday night, and it’s their favourite show, and they make a real big deal of it: curtains closed, lights dimmed, microwave popcorn and Yoongi’s seaweed at the ready. It’s a thing. Jeongguk cannot for the life of him see why, but he’s trying to ‘bond’, so.

“I don’t understand what the fuck is going on,” he says.

“Right, so basically,” Mina starts. “Cho - he’s the main character - he’s a detective, right? But after a sting operation goes wrong, he and his family are forced to go into witness protection: Dae-il. New identity, yeah? But-”

“But he didn’t cover his traces completely,” Hoseok continues, “so the antagonist - drug lord, crime boss dude, whatever - he knows Cho’s new destination.”

“But Cho doesn’t know that he knows,” Taehyung adds.

“Yet,” Mina says.

“Yet,” he agrees.

“And Cho - Dae-il, whatever - he falls in love with his neighbour, and has an affair with her-”

“Cheating bastard,” Yoongi mutters.

“-but the neighbour turns out to be one of Manseok’s - that’s the villain dude - ex wives. So obviously, Manseok isn’t happy-”

“No sir.”

“-but all the times he tries to get Dae-il killed, the guy survives because, you know.”

“Detective training and that.”

“Right. So he’s just trying to keep his family safe, and you know, he’s slaughtering Manseok’s henchmen like left, right and centre.”

“Lots of cop chases.”

“We love a good cop chase.”

“We do.”

“And then we find out that the neighbour, she’s pregnant with Dae-il’s baby-”

“So now he has to do all the henchmen-fighting, while trying to figure out how he’s going to hide the whole baby situation from his wife. And he still doesn’t know she’s connected to Manseok. ” Mina clucks, thinking to see if she’s missed anything. “Yeah, that’s about it. Now shut up and watch.”

“Jesus,” Jeongguk mumbles. “It’s a Korean telenovela.”

Mina pinches his arm. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s hot trash.”

She reaches out to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Jeongguk’s lap. “That’s why it’s amazing.” She takes some more and holds it against Jeongguk’s mouth, prompting him to open it. It’s probably to make him shut up, but he’s not opposed to being fed so he obeys.

The more and more he observes, the more he realises how touchy they all are. Well, not all the time, but Mina and Taehyung in particular are practically cats, rubbing up against everyone and everything. Mina has a thing for lazily massaging people with her nails, and Taehyung has no regard for personal space, so Jeongguk feels like a part of their friendship is them just satisfying their desire for close human proximity. He’s not the kind of person who likes being coddled or touched if he hasn’t asked for it, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t completely hate it. Mina’s hands are relaxing in a way.

Halfway through the film, Yoongi, without looking at him, silently extends his packet of seaweed towards him. “You’re the only one I trust not to take more than one,” is his reasoning. “If you betray me, I will forcibly cut you open and eviscerate you organ by organ.”

“Why are you so weirdly specific with your threats?” Jeongguk asks. “‘I’ll kill you’ would’ve been enough.”

“Because I keep people in check by instilling terror into them,” he replies. “Now take one before I change my mind.”

What can Jeongguk say? They’re growing on him. Them, and their shitty shows.

Except Taehyung. Taehyung’s a strange one.

Whilst the others have slowly become more mellow towards Jeongguk, Taehyung still walks around the dorms like it’s his territory or something - everything he says or does is some covert power move. Like how he refuses to call Jeongguk ‘Jeongguk’. It’s just: “Hey, Jeon” and “Have you emptied the bins yet, Jeon?” and “You ever speak more than two sentences, Jeon?”

Still, it’s a step up from ‘alien boy’ and Jeongguk tries not to take it personally. It’s just the way he is: Taehyung is brazen, and competitive about stupid things, and playful - and Jeongguk just happens to be his new toy for the month. Sometimes though, it’s unnecessary. And sometimes Jeongguk just wants to sit in peace at the kitchen bar and have his evening snack, instead of:

“Jeon. Hey, Jeon.” And he’s so insistent as well. He sees silence as a challenge to overcome, instead of an indication that the person just obviously doesn’t want to talk to him. Imagine being that self-important. “Jeon.”

Jeongguk gives him an unimpressed look. “... yes?”

“You wanna play Speed?” He displays the pack of cards in his hands.

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“Nope.”

Taehyung pouts. “But no one else will play with me.”

“I’m doing research,” Mina says from the sofa, not even looking up from the textbook she’s reading.

Jeongguk lifts up the sandwich in his hands. “I’m doing nutrition.”

“C’mon.”

“No.” Jeongguk wonders how many times the word has to be repeated before it finally makes headway through Taehyung’s thick skull.

“Please.”

And that’s the other thing - it’s all mind games with Taehyung. This isn’t about the cards, it’s about disrupting Jeongguk’s evening - wearing him down until he does what Taehyung wants him to, bends to his will. Every conversation Jeongguk has with him seems like a secret competition, an opportunity for him to impose himself. To be honest, he probably hasn’t stopped because Jeongguk always matches his energy, always claps back. He probably enjoys it, this little game of theirs. Jeongguk should just ignore him, and not give him the time of day, and watch him slowly lose interest in being an absolute attention-seeking child. But, then again.

“C’mon.”

Then again, sometimes it’s satisfying to win once in a while.

He crams some crust into his mouth as fuel. “Yeah, sure.”

Taehyung grins slyly, starts shuffling the cards as Jeongguk joins him at the dining table. Jeongguk looks down at his hands as he does so, because the alternative is looking straight into his eyes. That’s a thing too - Taehyung, and eye contact. Anyone else would just find it uncomfortable after a while, but Taehyung is so deliberate about it, hostile even: power move. His hands are sort of mesmerising anyway; Jeongguk watches as his fingers flick the cards, bend them, toss them. Deft little things. Long and slender; short, blunt nails; neat cuticles. They’re sort of elegant, in a freakishly elongated way. Piano hands.

“Do you play a musical instrument?” Jeongguk says.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow. “No, why’d you ask?”

“No reason.”

He laughs slightly. “There was no reason for that seemingly random question?”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s what random means.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“... yeah.” Always has to have the last word: fucking child. “Anyway, the rules of Speed-”

“I know how to play already,” Jeongguk interrupts.

“Know a lot of things, Jeon.”

“Thanks, Kim.”

“Sure.” Taehyung still somehow manages to watch him as he’s dealing out the cards on the table. This guy. He splits the remaining ones into two piles and positions them symmetrically from the middle. He and Jeongguk both pick a pile. He’s still staring. “On three,” he says. “One... two... three!”

They slam their respective cards down in the middle. The game is a frenzied mess - lots of chaotic jerking, and haphazard stacking, and Taehyung being butthurt every five seconds when his move gets blocked - but Jeongguk wins in the end. He may not be great at a lot of things, but he knows speed, and he knows strategy, and he knows that he really doesn’t want to give Taehyung any satisfaction.

Despite this, Taehyung looks weirdly pleased afterwards - like he’s glad he got Jeongguk to break out of his shell or something. His eyes gleam a little bit as he smiles. “Play again?”

“I’m good,” Jeongguk says, standing up and walking back over to the kitchen. “Want to get back to nourishing.”

“C’mon. Best of three?” He’s already reshuffling the cards - presumptive prick. “What, you scared you’re gonna lose, Jeon?”

Jeongguk picks up his plate, and walks over to the dining table, and Taehyung is grinning until Jeongguk picks up the rest of his sandwich and holds it to his face. “Decided I’m not hungry after all,” he says. “Open wide.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Taehyung just looks at him with those almond eyes of him, and then something wicked glints in them. He opens his mouth and Jeongguk presses the last mouthful of bread inside.

“Good boy,” he says as Taehyung chews.

“Peanut butter. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Only the best for you.”

He walks back towards the kitchen to dump the plate in the sink, when Taehyung suddenly calls out again. “Hey, Jeon.” He waves the deck of cards when Jeongguk turns around. “We’ll settle this later, yeah?”

“No.”

He grins - boxy, and wide and taunting - like he already knows he’s going to have his way. “Sure. Goodnight, Jeon.”

He rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Kim.”

After he washes up, he turns around quickly so Taehyung can’t see himself smiling to himself as he walks back to his bedroom. He guess he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it as well, a little bit - this game.

It's three am, the doorbell is ringing, and Jeongguk is ready to slap someone.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles into his pillow. He stays completely still, hoping that will cause whoever’s outside to just leave, but of course it doesn’t - because why would it - so now he’s faced with the following dilemma: get more annoyed, or get up. He knows none of the others will - because Yoongi’s a heavy sleeper, and the others are lazy, indifferent fucks - and his room is closest to the entrance anyway.

He trudges out of bed, disgruntled, and is even less impressed when he opens the door and a very drunk Taehyung stands on the other side, hand still raised, ready to assault the button again. This. Guy.

“You know you have a key, right?” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn.

“Shit, do I?” Anxiously, Taehyung pats down his coat until he eventually discovers his key, pulling it out of the pocket forlornly. His confusion is almost sweet.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Get inside.”

He does, staggering like a zombie in a zigzagged beeline for the sofa, where he crashes down. His incoherent moans are enough to tell Jeongguk that the guy really went overboard. He’d always imagined Taehyung to be a classy drunk - a wine-drinker, regaling his dinner guests with stories of his impetuous youth with a glass of rosé in one hand, and his dazzling wit in the other. Turns out he’s just a very high-maintenance drunk - doesn’t know when enough is enough. And also, a regular one. He figured that the four of them were party people - dashing, and reckless and impulsive as they are - but the number of times Taehyung actually goes out in a week is alarming.

Jeongguk sends up a silent prayer for his liver. Then, he goes to the kitchen and grabs a cup. “You want some water?” he asks.

“No,” Taehyung says.

He fills up the cup anway. “You need some water.” Taehyung protests a little bit when he tries to hand it to him, but eventually complies. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Hmm.” Unconvinced, he takes a few gulps, and then seemingly gets bored and opts to just stare at his distorted reflection in the glass instead. 

“Drink up, big boy.”

“‘M tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” he moans, leaning his head against the sofa in exasperation. Even when he’s at half the mental capacity, he’s insufferable.

“I’m not leaving you until you go to bed.” Jeongguk takes the glass from him and places it on the coffee table before he can break it somehow. “Don’t want you doing any dumb shit.”

Taehyung just looks up at him from his slouched position, eyes tired and glassy, a lazy smile on his face. Then, just as languidly, he lifts up both his arms towards Jeongguk until they rest on his face, his hands cupping Jeongguk’s cheeks in a way that seems too gentle for a guy like him to achieve. And then, in slow-motion, he lifts his own head, travels forward. Without thinking, Jeongguk screws his eyes shut - more to brace himself than anything else, as protection - but nothing happens. When he opens them again, it’s just Taehyung, and his eyes, millimetres away from his.

His lips are wet and parted, and there’s something expectant about it, but he doesn’t move any further. Just stares. Then he says, “I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to,” and Jeongguk feels all the breath leave his body, like he’s just gotten punched in the throat. He wants Taehyung to just go back to being mean - at least he could handle that. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do with this.

He swallows. “Okay.”

Taehyung’s gaze is chilling at best, and mercilessly obliterative at worst. He blinks impossibly slowly, like a camera shutter. “Is that you saying you don’t want to?”

“It’s me saying you’re not sober enough to even know what you want.” Jeongguk sighs, shifting backwards. Taehyung’s hands fall down in his lap, and he looks at them, sad, like he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore. “Taehyung, go to bed.”

“Ngh.” He mutters something else incomprehensible, before falling back to lay on the sofa. His shirt rides up as he stretches, exposing the skin of his stomach, his V-line, a glimpse of his white boxers. Even when he’s not trying, he’s taunting. “I am in bed,” he says, defiant once more.

“Yeah, okay,” Jeongguk says, standing up and feeling oddly disorientated. He doesn’t even trust himself to use his legs properly, feels like they might give way when he starts to walk. “Goodnight, Kim.”

He’s already turning away, onto his side. “Night, Jeon.”

When Jeongguk gets back to his room, he pulls the duvet up all the way to his face, if only to imitate the feeling of hands.

They don’t talk about it the next day.

When Taehyung finally walks out of his room, at two in the afternoon, there’s a part of Jeongguk that wants him to say something. Anything. There’s also a part of him that feels like throwing up. He keeps his eyes trained on his phone as Taehyung grabs a Coke from the fridge, walks around the bar. He hovers over Jeongguk’s shoulders for a moment, peering down at his screen - and Jeongguk doesn’t breathe, can’t - but then all he gets is a “Shit, it’s two already?” before Taehyung walks over to the sofa, probably to watch some god-awful TV.

Jeongguk can’t tell whether he’s disappointed or relieved. He just kind of feels void of anything. His cheeks tingle, like there are ghosts dancing on his face: momentary, fleeting. Not real. He stares at his phone a little harder, decides he’s more disappointed than relieved, but mainly just embarrassed. He didn’t take Taehyung to be a forgetful drunk. He’s probably a regretful one though.

Everything goes back to normal - not that it ever wasn’t to begin with - and Jeongguk can’t say that he cares. He’s fine with it. Really. He is.