Archive of Our Own

In hindsight, maybe all of this should have stopped much, much earlier. Or maybe should have never even started in the first place.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi’s hands were so warm, so soft against Taehyung’s cheek as he stroked it so carefully, as if the younger was a delicate doll made of glass, as if he knew his hand would become the hammer that would smash him to smithereens, to become mere sharp shards of glass, “Taehyung, are you okay with this?”

“Okay with what, Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice was a whisper, a shaky whisper, so quiet that if Yoongi hadn’t had his head hovering only a few inches above his own, panting hot breaths down onto him, he wouldn’t have been able to be heard.

“Okay with,” Yoongi paused to run a hand down Taehyung’s chest slowly, holding hot, hooded eye contact the entire time, as his fingers brushed up against his most intimate spot, “This. Me, touching you. Fucking you. I won’t do it if you don’t want me too. I want you. I need you.”

What were they thinking? What was Taehyung thinking, agreeing to be--basically--Yoongi’s booty call, his friend with benefits?

No. “Yes.”

Benefits encompassing nothing more than Taehyung being someone for Yoongi to fuck without any preamble with the only goal in mind being to relieve the elder’s copious amounts of stress, which were usually either built up over weeks spent holed up like a hermit in the Genius Lab working on songs nonstop, or from countless tours with way too many crazy fans swarming him like moths to a flame.

It wasn’t like Taehyung didn’t enjoy being fucked for hours until he couldn’t even get his cock hard anymore from how many orgasms that Yoongi would have him endure, until he couldn’t even talk from the sheer amount of pleasured screams that would rip from his throat, until his neck was sucked on and bit so many times that their makeup artists would have to absolutely cake on his foundation and concealer to hide them, until his legs felt like jelly and his mind fuzzy. He would be insane to not love and crave that sort of attention from Yoongi.

Just like the other day, when Taehyung had shown up at the Genius Lab to drop off dinner for Yoongi only to be pulled into the elder’s arms the second he entered and pushed onto the couch on his stomach, dinner forgotten on the floor. Despite Yoongi’s desperation--evident by his rough touches and constant growl bubbling in his chest--he still took his time opening Taehyung up, making him leak his cum onto the poor leather of the couch at least twice before he would be gifted with the feeling of Yoongi’s cock sliding gently into his thoroughly lubed up and stretched out hole. Taehyung always appreciated that aspect of Yoongi--he would never, never in his right mind do anything to hurt the younger, unless he wanted it of course, such as when Taehyung would beg for his veiny hands to wrap around his throat or Yoongi to leave bright red hand prints on his full ass cheeks.

“Again, Yoongi?” Taehyung sighed, running a hand down his face, “Really?”

“Your body’s like a drug, Tae,” Yoongi couldn’t seem to be able to lift his eyes away from the younger’s collarbones that were exposed, “I need you to survive, you have to understand. I-I...you’re okay with this, right? Please tell me you are.”

As much as Yoongi always did his very best at keeping his self made promise of never hurting Taehyung...he was hurting him, so fucking much, unconsciously. How could Yoongi had known that the man he was fucking six ways until sunrise almost every day but would never kiss was the very same man who had loved him ever since he had laid eyes on him all of those years ago? He couldn’t have known, especially when Taehyung was adamant about not letting that side of himself see the light, not even one little sliver.

It’s not okay. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault that every single time that he would send a barrage of messages to Taehyung in the middle of the night to come join him in his Genius Lab--seemingly innocent messages that no peeping eyes would think to look twice at--and would proceed to fuck Taehyung against the piano, tainting the poor instrument, making it sing out in a discord of mismatched tones, Taehyung would always end up slinking on back home to the dorms with copious amounts of cum leaking out of his ass to stain his boxers and sobs wracking his body like a rickety old house in a tornado. It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault that Taehyung was an absolute idiot for letting his desires for his hyung cloud his own self worth.

I’m nothing more than Yoongi’s fuck toy, his good little stress ball, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t want to be with me, but at least, I have this, he would think to himself when Yoongi would kick him unceremoniously out only minutes after both of them had zipped up their pants. Taehyung would only nod without a single argument nor protest, even though his entire body was itching and throbbing with the need to cuddle close to the elder with their naked legs intertwining and little happy sighs escaping as they would fall asleep together. He wanted that so badly, wanted to feel Yoongi’s veiny, pale hands stroking his hair and lips pressing kisses all over his face as he would tell him how much of a good boy he was for him, how much he loved him.

“Do you have feelings for me, Taehyung?” Yoongi’s eyes were searching deep within the younger’s soul, but not enough to realize the wall was only a ruse, “I...can’t do this if you do. Be honest with me. I’m not going to be mad at you if you do, I promise.”

Love--what a stupid thing to desire. What a stupid thing to be absolutely drowning in when there was no one to save him before it was too late. Stupid, stupid, stupid . The word should be Taehyung’s middle name by now.

I do. “I don’t.”

Or maybe, slut was a better choice. Or maybe even whore, bitch, fuck toy, cock sleeve could be fitting as well. It wasn’t like Yoongi meant all of these words, Taehyung was sure that the elder didn’t truly think that the younger was only useful for his slutty little hole and nothing more, no matter how many times he spit out those degrading, filthy words as he would reach his climax and slam into Taehyung so hard that the sounds of the slapping of skin could definitely be heard from the neighboring studios--if anyone was there to hear them, which Yoongi always made sure of that there wasn’t anyone.

Taehyung knew that--and embarrassingly, loved that--Yoongi would only use those words as part of his healthy degradation kink. It seemed that he got off on making Taehyung cry as he would be forced to repeat the words over and over again until Yoongi was satisfied enough to let him cum. At first, it was a little jarring to hear such mean words, as Yoongi had never, ever been one to insult or demean Taehyung, but as with everything about Yoongi, Taehyung grew his own kink for them. Maybe, with anyone else, he would feel disgusted by them, but with Yoongi, he could never--but, maybe, he would feel disgusted by himself afterwards.

That feeling would always sit there deep inside of him, simmering quietly, always in the back of his mind, for all of these years, along with the sinking feeling of the void of pure loneliness that overtook his entire being. He shouldn’t be so lonely when he got to spend so much time around his love, his crush, his Yoongi, but it wasn’t enough , when all he wanted to do was kiss Yoongi until their lips would turn puffy and red, slicked with their combined saliva. Taehyung tried his absolute hardest to ignore it, to power through, to enjoy the pleasure that Yoongi was offering to him, and for a while, it worked. Until it didn’t. Until, in the wee hours of the morning, after his fifth orgasm and Yoongi’s third, his muscles sore from his efforts of riding the elder while sitting on his lap, just as he was pulling his body off of Yoongi’s, Taehyung leaned in close to press a small, sleepy kiss to the corner of Yoongi’s ever so inviting lips.

Instantly, both of them froze at the action. Yoongi, with heavy lidded, sleepy eyes, and Taehyung, eyes wide with irises swimming with pure panic.

The seconds ticked on into what almost felt like hours, the small sound from the little clock that was hung above the couch was deafening in the suddenly quiet room that was filled with echoing moans and cries only a few minutes prior, with the two men staring at each other, unblinkingly, before Taehyung shot up off of Yoongi completely and onto his jelly like, shaky legs. His clothes were strewn out all over the floor of the Genius Lab, and his boxers hung delicately from the small microphone tripod that sat on Yoongi’s desk--god only knows how the hell that ended up there. Taehyung could barely remember when Yoongi basically ripped his clothing off of him in his haste, could barely remember the fabrics flying in the air and landing in places neither of them cared about at the time--but, now, he did care, as it was a bit awkward to have to search around the room for his clothes butt naked while Yoongi, who was naked except for his socks, had watched Taehyung’s backside for a few moments before yawning quietly and shutting his eyelids closed.

As Taehyung closed the last button on his shirt, he turned to look back at the now sleeping man on the couch. Yoongi was always one to either fall asleep pretty much immediately after sex, of course, not before kicking out Taehyung of course, but it seemed like tonight--or, rather, this morning, as it was now four in the morning--the elder was much too tired to even remember that Taehyung was still there, and maybe, hopefully even tired enough that the mistake kiss, as Taehyung was now calling it, wouldn’t be remembered when he would wake up. Or, at least, he would be too tired to even care.

Could just call it a mistake, right? Yeah, yeah, Taehyung just meant to kiss Yoongi’s neck--it’s not like that was uncommon for him to do, because after all, the marks on Yoongi’s neck that mirrored Taehyung’s own had to come from somewhere. He could just say, if asked, that he was too sleepy to realize that he didn’t kiss Yoongi’s neck. Sounds believable enough...he hoped. And, if Yoongi wouldn’t question it, he wouldn’t bring it up himself. Perfect plan, perfect.

But, as Taehyung quietly closed the door to the Genius Lab and made his way back to the dorm--limping the whole way--he knew that he he couldn’t ever let it happen again, couldn’t ever let himself slip up that bad and fuck up everything he had worked so hard to build, the wall that he had built up to hide his real emotions, his real feelings for Yoongi. He could only imagine the consequences of him doing so again, or maybe even something worse like actually kissing him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be immediately pushed off of Yoongi’s body with a growl and malice burning in the elder’s irises. Yoongi didn’t do any non platonic feelings, Taehyung knew that very well. He had no interest in anything but fucking with anyone, let alone Taehyung.

What would Yoongi think about him? Would their friendship end, just like that? Would Yoongi go back to vehemently ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder just like he did in the first few months of knowing each other? Of course, the nightly rendezvous would come to a stop, but would their nights out to take turns buying each other ramen and ice cream stop as well? Would the hugs, the fond smiles, the ruffles of hair, the pats on the back, the shoulder touches, the shared tears--would that all stop as well? Maybe, maybe not, but Taehyung couldn’t risk losing it all, couldn’t risk giving up all of those frequent moments of happiness just for a small moment of one sided love.

And, so, he stopped it all. Just like that.

-

Yoongi would text and call still almost every night, but Taehyung either wouldn’t answer if it was late in the night, or make up some excuse such as how he was too exhausted from dance practice that day and wanted to sleep or that he already had plans with one of the other members for a movie night or dinner out. Taehyung also managed to pass on his ‘bringing Yoongi’s food’ duties off on the other members as well, pretending to be sick with a cold to make the excuse that touching the food would only make Yoongi sick as well--it was hard for him to always remember that he had to cough every few minutes and stay in his room to rest for it to be convincing, but no one seemed to be the wiser. Sadly though, Taehyung wasn’t surprised a single bit that Yoongi didn’t seem to miss him or their activities in the slightest. The elder acted completely normal, and never once confronted him about his sudden avoidance, for the entire month.

It was incredibly hard for Taehyung to see that his assumptions about Yoongi’s feelings for him were affirmed, especially when the calls became more infrequent--isn’t this what he wanted, though? To remove himself from that gnawing, parasitic pain? But, maybe, somewhere deep down inside of him, he had the tiniest of hopes that maybe, Yoongi would grow to realize his repressed love for Taehyung in his absence, as the saying goes, you only know you love him when you let him go--but that feeling was squashed like it was only a mere cockroach by Yoongi, something so revolting and disgusting that it just had to die under Yoongi’s favorite Doc Martens.

And, of course, he couldn’t help but miss the burning touches that Yoongi’s hands would create as they would explore every inch of his body, the small bubbles of happiness that would rise as Taehyung would stand in front of his bathroom mirror to admire the hickeys and bruises that were dotting his body, almost like flower petals, reminding him that Yoongi had marked him as his--until the bubbles would inevitably burst when he would be forced to remind himself that he was not Yoongi’s, that the marks were only those of in the moment passion and possession that didn’t extend to afterwards. They were only marks of how pathetic Taehyung was, truely, but he still missed the nonetheless, the days when Taehyung could convince himself for a while that Yoongi wanted him at least in one way.

But those days were long over.

There were some times when Taehyung felt free, though--almost as if he was a bird let free from a cage, free from the overwhelming guilt and shame, not trapped under his own spell anymore. He could look at Yoongi and only feel his overwhelming affection bursting inside of his chest instead of a sinking, black hole in his stomach, knowing that he was deceiving Yoongi, making him believe that they were on the same page--that there were no feelings beyond those of platonic and occasionally sexual. Taehyung no longer felt as if he were some sort of monster that was taking advantage of Yoongi’s trust in him to fulfill the ache of love inside of Taehyung.

He was getting better, slowly, there was no doubt about it.

But, maybe, his improvement was at the sake of Yoongi’s own.

-

There were only two months left before their next comeback, so, naturally, everything was a complete mess, whether it be in the dorms where everyone turned into exhausted zombies, in the practice rooms where at least one member would collapse per week, and, of course, in the studios, which have become a second home to most of the members and the occasional staff members. As much as they all loved creating new music, learning new choreography, and just the excitement that came with giving their fans new content to enjoy, the downsides of comeback season were close to outweighing the good.

Especially for Yoongi.

Comeback season was always the most stressful for the second eldest of the group. Yoongi prided himself in his ability to weave a range of emotions throughout his lyrics and the music and beats that would accompany them, but he was also incredibly hard on himself. Even though countless people who would listen to his songs would praise him like he hung the stars, Yoongi would always feel like the songs needed more, that they weren’t good enough yet, no matter how many times people called them perfect. It was a quality that everyone including Taehyung admired greatly, that he put so much of himself into his music with such great passion, but, it wasn’t like they were going to sit around and do nothing as Yoongi self sabotaged his own health for the sake of the album. No song was worth having to watch as Yoongi being loaded into an ambulance. It hadn’t ever come to that stage, but there was always a very high risk that it would.

Usually during comeback seasons, there was an outlet for Yoongi’s stress--using Taehyung’s body. It didn’t help as much as it did during the downtimes between comebacks when the stress was relatively low compared to during a comeback, but it certainly did have an effect on Yoongi’s ability to finish songs. It seemed, in a way, that Yoongi was taking out his own frustration that he felt towards himself onto Taehyung, channeling up all of those pent up emotions and energy into fucking Taehyung so hard and so long that it was a surprise that Taehyung wouldn’t pass out halfway through.

But, now that Taehyung was long done with being used that way, it seemed that this comeback season was even harder on Yoongi, without any good ways that would help him reduce his stress. Yoongi was always a ball of angry fire during these times, but this time, the flames seemed to be burning hotter and rising higher, ready to sear whoever was brave enough to enter his studio, no matter what their intentions were.

Everyone was quite used to Yoongi being snappy and grumpy by now, but nothing could prepare them for the new aura that surrounded him. It was almost as if he had been taken over by some sort of satanic demon filled with malice. When someone would go to bring him food, Yoongi would demand for them to leave it outside the door--and, more often than not, the full plate would still be there when the next meal delivery would come. When Jimin tried spamming Yoongi’s phone in order to make sure the elder hadn’t died of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion, his hundredth call was met with an almost unintelligible barrage of curses that Jimin swore sounded more like the snarls of a wolf rather than those of a man.

Like a beast searching for a taste of blood.

Taehyung’s blood, specifically.

If he had thought that Jimin had called Yoongi a lot, well, Yoongi called Taehyung even more. And, every single call was met with Taehyung’s voice mail recording. His text messages didn’t go unread though--Taehyung couldn’t help himself, with his parasitic worry that if he didn’t look at them, he might miss something important. But, all he got were the same messages, over and over and over. Taehyung, come over. Come to the studio, please. Need your help.

Taehyung fell asleep with tears in his eyes every night, fighting with his self conscious. Was it really okay to do this to Yoongi, to take away his only source of relaxation? Was it really okay to put his own happiness and mental state over Yoongi’s, the person he loved with all of his heart? God , he felt like such a fucking asshole.

But he kept his promise to himself, nonetheless.

-

“Okay, Taehyung, what do you think about my plan?”

Taehyung jumped in his seat at the sudden voice--well, not so sudden, as Jungkook had been talking to him for almost half an hour about something, but Taehyung wasn’t listening one single bit. The second he heard Yoongi’s name enter the topic of conversation, he couldn’t help but drift off into the recesses of his own mind where there was nothing but puppies and flowers and happiness and himself, no one else. He knew that the only reason Jungkook would be bringing him up would be to complain about how worried he was about the elder--and it’s not like Taehyung didn’t care, it was quite the opposite actually, he cared way too fucking much, more than, frankly, he should.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whined, drawn out,, letting his head fall against the cool marble of the kitchen counters, “You weren’t listening to me at all, were you?

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t,” Taehyung sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly.

“Have you not been sleeping well or something? You look like--forgive my rudeness--like shit , Tae,” Jungkook’s eyes were trained on the slight tinge of purple underneath Taehyung’s own, “Do I have to worry about you too?”

Yeah, Taehyung hadn’t been sleeping well, that was true. It seemed like, these days, that he couldn’t get more than four hours sleep before he would wake up to the darkness of his room, the moonlight streaming in from the slightly opened window lighting up a ray of light across the middle of the room, hours before the sun was due to rise over the horizon to replace the moon. It was never really clear why he would wake, scrunching his face up at the feeling of dried tear tracks on his cheeks, but no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to go back to sleep.

But, he wouldn’t tell Jungkook that, no, he didn’t need to worry about him. No one needed to worry about him except for himself. Yoongi deserved all of their attention and efforts to help now, much more than he did.

“I’ve been staying up too late,” Taehyung lied, trying his best to force out a real sounding chuckle, “Overwatch is too addictive, you know?”

“Hey, no fair!” Jungkook pouted, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly, “Tell me next time you’re going to play, okay? You know I hate missing out on Overwatch!”

Taehyung shook his head with a laugh, this time, not forced, “Nuh uh, Jungkookie! Then you’ll get eyebags too! Growing boys need their sleep, as well,” he spoke in a sing song like voice that turned into a yelp when Jungkook smacked his shoulder in retaliation. “Fuck, that hurt! When did you get so strong?”

“When I became an adult , you dick,” Jungkook chided with a shit eating smirk on his face, pleased with how Taehyung was rubbing at the now sore spot that would definitely develop a bruise. “Now, can you please listen to me? It’s important!”

“Fine,” Taehyung huffed.

“Good,” Jungkook took a moment to regain his earlier seriousness before speaking once more, “I’m not going to repeat literally everything I said, but here’s the gist of it. We’re all worried about Yoongi, so we need a way to get him out of that fucking studio. So I was thinking that, since you’re his favorite, we can pretend like you’re hurt or something and he’ll rush-”

“Wait, I’m his f-favorite?” Taehyung’s face blanched white as he stuttered, pointing at himself with his eyebrows raised high, stupefied.

His favorite. His favorite ? Taehyung was Yoongi’s favorite? Well, he knew that he was Yoongi’s favorite person to fuck, but fuck , his favorite person ? Out of the entire group? No fucking way. No fucking way that was right.

“Yeah, duh, of course you are,” Jungkook rolled his eyes as if this was the most obvious thing in the entire world, the entire universe, “I don’t really know why but--hey, don’t glare at me! Let me fucking finish, damn! Okay, so we’ll pretend you’re hurt and that’ll for sure make him leave the studio to come ‘check on you’. And, once he’s here, we’ll force him to stay and start the intervention.”

“Back up, back up,” Taehyung’s heart was racing as if he had just run a mile, beating so fast that, for a moment, he was worried that it would beat right from out of his chest, ripping his skin open, but that didn’t matter right now. “You guys are going to give him an intervention?”

“Mhm! It’s the perfect plan, right?” Jungkook asked excitedly, almost bouncing in his seat.

“You’re stupid if you believe he’ll listen to you guys,” Taehyung huffed, remembering all of the times that he had tried to do so himself, tried to reason with the stubborn rapper, but it would never succeed--Yoongi would always cut him off with a swift tug of his hips.

“We have to try, Taehyung,” Jungkook urged, “He’s going to end up dying if he continues all of this. No album is worth his fucking life!”

And that...that, Taehyung couldn’t disagree with or even question. No album was worth Yoongi’s life. No song, no backing track, no beat, no nothing.

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung felt as if his tongue was suddenly swelling too big for his mouth, his body trying to stop his efforts to betray Yoongi like this, but--”I’ll do it.”

-

Missed call from Jungkook - 3:40pm

Missed call from Jungkook - 3:40pm

Missed call from Namjoon - 3:43pm

Missed call from Jimin x2 - 3:44pm

Missed call from Hoseok - 3:46pm

Missed call from Jungkook x3 - 3:47pm

Jungkook - 3:48pm - Yoongi, jesus christ, pick up your fucking phone!!!!

Missed call from Jimin x7

Jimin - 3:50pm - THIS IS AN EMERGENCY YOONGI

YOU NEED TO COME BACK TO THE DORM

ITS TAEHYUNG

Reply to Jimin - 3:55pm - what? emergency? taehyung?

Accepted call from Jungkook - 3:55pm - 2 minutes duration

Reply to all - 3:57pm - i’ll be there in 5 mins. keep his head elevated.

-

“Where the fuck is he?”

Taehyung could hear Yoongi’s growlish voice booming and the sound of the front door slamming into the wall as it was flung open, all of the way from where he was sat alongside the other members in the living room of their dorm which was on the other side of the dorm from the door. The sounds echoed off the walls, so loud that Taehyung was worried that it might burst his ear drums. He fought desperately with himself to stay seated on the couch next to Jimin as Jungkook rushed out to greet Yoongi, at war with his own instincts that were screaming just as loud as Yoongi was to go to him as well. The mere tinge of painful worry that was laced in Yoongi’s voice made his heart constrict painfully in his chest. And, combined with the quick, shallow breaths his lungs were creating, Taehyung was also worried that, maybe, he’d actually pass out.

“It’s okay Taehyungie, calm down,” Jimin whispered soothingly from beside him as he gently rubbed a hand on his knee, “It’s going to be okay.”

“He sounds mad, really mad,” Taehyung hissed, trying his best to contain his own anger deep inside of him, “We shouldn’t have done this, fuck , this was such a bad-”

Taehyung’s slurred rambling slammed to a halt as Yoongi, with Jungkook trailing close behind him, turned the corner to the living room. Yoongi’s wide  eyes, pupils completely blown out, immediately began searching around the room for Taehyung, but once they froze upon the younger’s clearly uninjured form propped up against the couch cushions, Yoongi’s eyes narrowed into little slits, clearly realizing that Taehyung was not in fact passed out with a concussion from falling in the shower.

“What the fuck ,” Yoongi cursed, snapping his gaze away from Taehyung after a few tense, silent moments to look back at Jungkook, who was standing sheepishly behind him, hands wringing nervously, “Is going on here?”

“I’m sorry we had to do it like this, hyung...but it was the only way we could get you out of your studio,” Namjoon spoke up from where he sat at the dining room table before standing up and slowly making his way over to Yoongi, as if approaching a wild animal that was seconds away from bolting.

Not like a deer or rabbit, though. No, the blazing fire of anger set ablaze in his irises screamed wolf .

“Is this a fucking intervention ?” Yoongi snarled, baring his teeth as he closed the distance between him and Namjoon so that he could fist a hand into his shirt harshly, tightening when the other rapper nodded nervously, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Taehyung cringed at the sharp, demanding, almost aggressive tone--close to the voice Yoongi would use as he would leave bright red handprints on his ass, spitting out filthy words of degradation, but not quite. He was sure he had never seen the rapper this angry before, never seen him so ready to use his fists instead of his words. And, and. Taehyung could barely recognize him.

Fuck, this was all his fault.

“L-let him go, Yoongi,” he spoke up, voice shaky and meek, unsure of himself.

Yoongi’s gaze immediately flickered back over to him, burning a hole through Taehyung’s retinas to singe his brain, as if his eyes could read his thoughts, could see the pure nervous and petrified adrenaline pumping through out his veins. Nervous because of him . Terrified because of him . It must have been at least a few minutes before Yoongi slowly let go of Namjoon’s shirt with a shove. “Fine,” he grumbled, his fists clenching at his sides, “But I’m fucking leaving. I don’t have time for this intervention bullshit .”

As the elder swiveled around to head back towards the front door, he could barely take one step before a clammy hand gripped onto his wrist. “Stay, Yoongi!” Taehyung cried out to Yoongi’s back, the rapper not bothering to turn back to face the one whose hand shook like a leaf, his grasp so weak that Yoongi could have easily pulled his wrist away as if it were as light as dust if he had wanted to, if he hadn’t missed the feeling of the younger’s skin on his so fucking much .

“And why should I,” Yoongi’s words came out more like a statement instead of a question, his voice deadpanned and void of any emotion.

“Hyung, please, just hear us out-”

Jungkook’s soft, pleading voice seemed to be the right catalyst for Yoongi to finally wrench his wrist out of Taehyung’s grasp, the younger gasping as the elder stared down Jungkook, who was blocking the hallway with his body. “You guys fucking lied to me,” he seethed, “You-what kind of people pretend that someone is fucking injured so that you can stage an intervention? That’s fucking sick , fucking twisted ! Do you understand how worried I was? How terrified I was that I would rush back here only to find my Tae dead ?”

My Tae. My Tae . The words reverberated in Taehyung’s overwhelmed mind, causing a misplaced blush to darken the tips of his ears. My Tae . Was he saying what he thought he was? No, no...Yoongi...Yoongi couldn’t have possibly meant what that might suggest, no way. No way. It was just words, no meaning, no suggestions. Shut the fuck up, brain.

Jungkook huffed loudly, incredulously. “Taehyung wouldn’t have died from that.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Yoongi ran a exasperated hand down his face, letting his nails rake into his soft, pale skin to leave light trails of red, “You can’t just lie about that stuff! Jesus, do you guys have anything to say for yourselves?”

Jimin, who none of them had realized had made his way over to the three of them, spoke from Taehyung’s side, tone clipped and authoritative. “I understand where you’re coming from, Yoongi. This wasn’t the best way to go about this, that’s true, but it was for a good fucking reason. You were worried about Tae dying? Well what about us! All of us have been terrified that one day we’ll come to your studio only to find you dead ! Do you know how much we’ve been worried about you, obsessing over your work so much that you put it over your own health? Do you know how much Tae’s been worried?”

Yoongi’s eyes immediately darted back over to look at Taehyung, who had found himself cowering behind Jimin’s back, his eyes nervously peeking over his shoulder as Yoongi stared back, eyebrows raised so high that they couldn’t be seen under his dark fringe. The moment only lasted for a few mere more seconds, however--as in the blink of an eye, Yoongi’s eyebrows were furrowed back into a state of anger and annoyance.

“You were worried about me,” Yoongi deadpanned, not a single ounce of curiosity nor questioning in his clipped tone once more, “You were worried about me, yet you didn’t answer a single text from me? A single call?”

The younger’s blood veins and capillaries became flooded with a freezing, shocking cold, almost as if he had been injected with a bucket of ice water straight into his heart in an attempt to freeze the muscle, to kill him from frostbite and hypothermia from the inside out. “I-I can explain-”

“Yeah, explain, Taehyung,” Yoongi spat out, making Taehyung cringe and cower lower behind Jimin as of the shorter could be a shield to protect him, “Because I don’t fucking understand why you’ve been hell bent on ignoring my ass like I mean nothing . I’ve tried being patient and understanding with you for months , but if you care about me like you say you do, you should be fucking honest with me. Or were you lying about that as well? Hmm?”

“What is he talking about? Months?” Jimin stage whispered over his shoulder down to Taehyung, who looked as if he were seconds away from bolting like a frightened creature, or maybe even collapse into a puddle of tears onto the floor, no longer human, just as he felt he had become--a monster in human skin.

Fuck , Yoongi was right.

“I-it’s complicated, Yoongi,” Taehyung started, voice pleading desperately for the elder to drop it, to not force him to reveal everything to all of the members, the secret he wished to bring with him to his fucking grave , but Yoongi still just stood there with his arms crossed and gaze steely, making Taehyung gulp audibly. “I just...c-couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?” Jungkook piped in, looking just as confused as the other five members, “Is anyone else super lost right now?”

“Fuck this, just, fuck , we can finish talking about this on our way to the studio,” Yoongi cursed, sending daggers over to the now sheepish Jungkook before striding over to take an almost bruising grip on Taehyung’s wrist and pulling him along with him to the front door, making the younger stumble and almost trip and fall onto the floor.

“Don’t hurt him, Yoongi!” Jimin called out to the pair before the bang of the front door echoed throughout the otherwise suddenly eerily silent dorm.

Don’t hurt him, Yoongi , he had said, but all Taehyung could hear was, don’t hurt him, Taehyung.

-

It seemed like it had been almost years since Taehyung was last inside of Yoongi’s Genuis Lab, but it didn’t feel or seem unfamiliar in the slightest. Everything was the same, from the surprisingly well organized desk, to the trash can next to it overflowing with crumpled up papers--that were probably ripped from Yoongi’s lyric notebook--and snack food wrappers, to the much too familiar black couch opposite from the desk, to the piano that stood proud in the corner.

But, there was something different, something so minor that any normal person wouldn’t be able to notice it, a person that wasn’t so attuned to everything that was Yoongi, a person that wasn’t Taehyung--on Yoongi’s desk, almost hidden behind one of his many monitors, peaking out, was a new picture in one of the few frames that he kept on his desk.

Instead of framing a picture of Holly--whose picture had been there for so many years--was a picture of Taehyung. And not just any picture, not just one that could have been downloaded from their many selcas on Twitter or albums of countless photoshoots, but, a picture of him, sleeping, on the very black couch that Yoongi had sat him down on when they entered the room. His eyes were shut softly and his mouth was open a tiny little bit--he was probably snoring every so quietly--and his hair was a complete mess, both matted to his head and in a fluffy, nest like tangle at the same time.

Taehyung had no idea when that photo was taken--or, even that it was taken at all. He had accidentally fallen asleep on Yoongi’s couch multiple times, usually when he would show up unannounced and would fall asleep as he would wait for Yoongi to finish whatever he was doing. But, telling by the color of his hair in the picture, it must have been only a mere month before he made his decision to stop coming around.

“It’s weird, isn’t it,” Yoongi spoke up suddenly, his meek, quiet voice loud in the small room. Taehyung flickered his eyes over to the elder, who sat beside him, but only found Yoongi’s eyes trained on the picture as well.

“Wh-why do you have that?” Taehyung whispered, even quieter, “Why did you take that picture?”

A beat of silence.

“Took it for..uh...blackmail?” Yoongi answered, but it sounded more like a question instead of an answer, full of nervous uncertainty, “Framed it because...I missed you.”

A sharp intake of breath.

Another beat of silence.

“Why did you stop coming here, Taehyung?” Yoongi asked, finally looking back over to the younger, the sad, dejected look on his face breaking Taehyung’s heart even further, although it seemed impossible for it to be broken any more than it already was. “Did...I do anything wrong? I had no idea that you...felt like you couldn’t do it anymore. Why do you feel that way?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” Taehyung sighed, wringing his fingers on his lap, playing with the loose ends of the rips in his jeans, “I just had to, okay?”

Yoongi shook his head slowly. “That’s not an explanation.”

“I...I can’t tell you why, Yoongi,” Taehyung could feel the lump in his throat grow, and felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. “You’ll hate me for it.”

“You know I could never, ever hate you,” Yoongi reached out to put a hand gently on Taehyung’s shoulder, maybe to comfort him, but it only made him flinch away out of instinct, making Yoongi’s frown deepen and his hand pull back. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t touch you at all, right?”

Touch me, please, fuck, touch me, I missed your touch so much, I missed you so much, it’s okay I promise, please, just touch me. “Y-yeah, you shouldn’t. It’ll just make things...worse.”

“Tae...I can’t read your mind, you know? Please, just tell me what’s going on. I’ll try my best to fix it,” Yoongi let his head fall to hang between his shoulders, staring down at the carpeted floor of the Genius Lab like the soft fabric held all of the answers. “I-I know maybe I’m not the best of friends all of the time. I know...that it’s wrong to basically rely on you to keep my mental health intact. It’s not healthy, I know. You...you’re not my stress ball, s-so I’m sorry that I’m making you into one. I’m an awful hyung, aren’t I?”

And, just like that, Taehyung’s heart completely shattered into a thousand tiny little glass pieces, like a delicate wine glass fallen from it’s display case.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Taehyung stood up from the couch suddenly, his form towering over Yoongi and darkening his frame with his shadow.

“W-wha-”

“There’s nothing wrong with you Yoongi, nothing !” Taehyung continued on in his loud tirant, clenching his fists tightly at his sides although his body shook and shuddered as he completely ignoring how Yoongi tried to interject, “Not a good friend? No, no, Yoongi, you’re the best fucking friend I could ever ask for! Y-you’re the best fucking person in this entire world! And...and...I... fuck , I don’t deserve someone as good as you!”

And, just as quickly and suddenly Taehyung had stood up, he collapsed onto his knees right in front of Yoongi with a dull thump, the rest of his body following to fall onto itself, curling up like an armadillo as the tears that had been burning at the back of his eyes all fucking day finally released, flowing down the blotchy skin of his face, silently.

He didn’t mean for it to end up like this. He didn’t mean for any of this to end up like this, sobbing in front of the love of his life like a fucking child. What would Yoongi think of him now? Would he think he was pathetic? Would he think he was disgusting? Would he be angry with him? Or all of the above? It was funny, how Taehyung had only ever wished to be loved back by the sarcastic yet surprisingly sweet rapper, but yet, all he could ever do in his presence was fall to his knees--in more ways than just to cry out from the pain in his chest, in his very soul, in every inch of his being.

Fuck. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this-

Yoongi’s hand was back on his shoulder, unhesitatingly this time, warm and comforting, like it always was. Like how he always wished it to be.

“It’s okay, Tae,” Yoongi whispered, slowly getting down onto the carpeted floor with him, as if not to spook him, “It’s okay, just let it out. It’s okay to cry.”

“N-no, it i-isn’t!” Taehyung choked out between sobs, furiously trying to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming and coming and coming-

“Yes, I promise to you it is,” Yoongi moved his other hand to gently hold the bottom of his chin so that he could lift his head up to make their eyes meet once more, “I cry all of the time.”

“R-really?” Taehyung sniffled, “Why...w-why do you cry?”

Yoongi took in a long, deep breath, as if to calm himself, before sighing it right back out, the gentle warmth of his breath ghosting along Taehyung’s face. “Because of work. Because I feel like nothing I do will ever be perfect like how I want it...like how others expect of me. Because I feel like a disappointment,” another sigh, “Because I missed you.”

What?

“You...missed me?” Taehyung asked slowly, eyes flickering all over the expanse of Yoongi’s face, as if searching for any signs of lies.

“Yeah...hyung missed you, so, so much,” Yoongi’s smile was watery, “Cried almost every day you weren’t here.”

He cried. Yoongi cried . Yoongi fucking cried. Because of him. Because of Taehyung . Because of fucking Taehyung.

Maybe he had a feeling deep down in his gut, a wrenching, parasitic feeling, that Yoongi was hurting too in the lonely nights, and the lonely days, as well, but he hadn’t believed it, hadn’t believed his own self, thought he was projecting his own feelings onto Yoongi. But, maybe he wasn’t, after all.

Maybe, just maybe...Yoongi felt the same way.

“I lied about why I have that picture,” Yoongi said softly, suddenly, dropping both hands away from Taehyung’s body, making the younger miss the warmth immediately, “I didn’t take it for...er...blackmail. I took it because...because... fuck, do you know how fucking pretty you are, Taehyung? Even when you’re drooling everywhere and snoring like an old man and look like you have a rat’s nest on your head? God, it kills me, Taehyung, it fucking kills me, how fucking infatuated I am with you! So much so that I can’t even control my fucking self, that I feel the desire to be some sort of fucking creep and frame a picture of you sleeping that you didn’t even know I took! God , I promised that I wouldn’t do this, that I didn’t think about you like this, but I can’t hide the damn truth. And I know, I fucking know , that I said no feelings, but, I, Min goddamn Yoongi, love the shit out of you, Kim Taehyung. So fucking sue me if I do. Not my fault you’re like a goddamn entrancing siren !”

Siren. The mermaids of the deep ocean, with their muscular tails lined with thousand of glittering, colorful scales, so sparkly that one could mistake them for precious jewels underneath the water, sunk into the dark sands, with their beautiful, striking, human like yet angel like faces at the same time that could tempt any person to follow their commands, with their ear piercing, honey like voices that worm their way into the minds of their victims to lure them into their waiting arms to be dragged down into the deep, never to be seen again. How...was Taehyung one of those? It didn’t make sense. He was nothing like them.

But, he guessed that that didn’t matter at the moment, there was no reason to dwell on the nuances behind the statement when all that he could think about were the other words, the words of love you .

The words that Taehyung himself is plagued with every single day.

“You love me?” Taehyung asked slowly, tasting the words on his tongue like a fine wine.

“Are you gonna make me fucking repeat it?” Yoongi grumbled, yet there was no bite to his words, no underlying growl of annoyance nor anger, “Look, let’s just forget this whole fucking thing, okay-”

“No!” Taehyung blurted loudly, making them both wince at the volume, “No, we need to talk about this, Yoongi. Don’t kick this under the rug like it doesn’t matter, because I’ve...I’ve been doing that for far too long. And it does matter.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked breathily. “Are you-”

“Yes, Yoongi,” Taehyung interrupted once more, taking a deep, deep breath before he spoke again, like the sirens pulling a poor sailor down to the ocean floor, “I’m saying I love you too. I’ve loved you for... fuck , such a long time now. And yes, that means I fucking lied to you all of this time, all of these years of telling you that I’m fine with just being...whatever the fuck we were...because I was too caught up in my feelings to be able to deny such an opportunity to get close to you even though it hurt to know that was the only way you’d ever touch me like that? I couldn’t take it anymore, Yoongi. It became too much, I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I...I knew it had to stop that day when I accidentally kissed you. I couldn’t control myself anymore, so I had to...b-but...if I had known you loved me too, I wouldn’t have had to leave you all alone like that. I’m not sure what hurt more--being fucked but not l-loved...or watching the love of my life’s health decline because of me .”

He was out of breath after he all but word vomited out his entire train of thought, maybe so quickly and slurred that Yoongi couldn’t even understand his mindless rambling--but, by the way the elder’s eyes were open almost comically wide and jaw dropped just as much so, maybe, he did understand it all.

“You just keep lying to me, don’t you, Taehyung?” Yoongi asked with a disbelieving laugh and a shake of his head, but it felt more like a question not meant to be answered, “But...I guess I’ll have to forgive you, if you...did it all for me .”

I did. I always do. Everything I do is for you. But, now...I need to learn to think about me, too. The both of us, equal.

“Here,” Yoongi said as he stood up and extended an arm out to Taehyung, his fingers gently curling open, to let the younger’s own intertwine with his as was helped to stand up to stand only mere inches from the elder, the closest they have been in months . “Closer, Taehyung.”

How close was too close? How much was too much? How long was too long? How much love is too much love? Neither of them had an answer to any of those questions, but it didn’t matter, didn’t matter as they became one single body, the energy flowing between the first touch of their lips, pink skin against pink skin, soft yet chapped at the same time, warm yet cold, wet yet dry, two yet one. It was much better than the small, misplaced kiss that Taehyung had placed upon the corner of Yoongi’s lips all of those months ago. The previous was full of adrenaline from the anxiety, the current was full of adrenaline from the sheer surprise of mutual, shared love, his heart pounding in his ears more like the gentle rhythm of a melody rather than the bang of a jarring gong.

Without either of them realizing it, they were laid back down onto the black couch, Taehyung’s back pressing against the fabric and Yoongi’s body laid overtop of his gently, making sure not to put too much of his weight over top of him. To any other person, it would seem as if a carbon copy of their other times lying on that very couch, but to them, there was no deja vu--there was only new.

“God, Tae,” Yoongi breathed as they pulled away, barely, to take a breather, “Your lips feel like fuckin’ silk or something. I can’t get enough of them.”

“You too, hyung, you too,” Taehyung mewled before their lips connected once more, at the same time that Yoongi’s hands slithered up underneath the younger’s shirt--avoiding the most sensitive places on his chest, but instead, holding gently onto his sides, smoothing his hands up and down as if mapping the expanse of his body, memorizing it, so soft compared to the touches he once placed against that very skin, the touches that could only leave bruises instead of blushes. Taehyung sighed into the kiss as he wrapped his own arms around Yoongi’s neck, effectively pulling him even closer so that there almost wasn’t a single inch of them that wasn’t touching. Where did his body start? Where did it end?

“Are you okay with this, Yoongi?” Taehyung asked tentatively, meekly, as Yoongi’s fingers played with the waistband of Taehyung’s jeans.

“Okay with what?”

“I-I...I don’t want to do this if you...only want this. I need to know there will be more than this, more than just...sex, stress relief. I want you. I need you.”

“Of course,” Yoongi said quickly, with nothing but seriousness and genuineness lacing his tone, “It’s going to be different now, I promise. I...I want the same thing as you, Tae, I promise. I want to be with you. I want to love you. Will you let hyung show you how much he loves you?”

“Please,” Taehyung whimpered, blushing scarlet as Yoongi didn’t waste time in sliding down both Taehuyng’s jeans and boxers, revealing the younger’s drooling, half hard cock to the elder, pretty and pink, just begging to be touched, to be loved.

“It’s going to be different this time,” Yoongi whispered as he slowly trailed his head down towards the quickly hardening length, his breath tickling Taehyung’s skin, his soft lips ghosting, barely touching, “So prepare yourself, mmk? Hyung’s gonna treat you like you deserve.”

For the longest time, Taehyung didn’t know what he deserved, or if he even deserved anything at all. Maybe he only deserved what a whore deserved. He would take all that what he could get, and never ask for anything more, never expect it--but those days were long over.

Maybe he did deserve the way that Yoongi’s plush, pink lips wrapped around his cock and slid all of the way down slowly, yet not torturously. Maybe he did deserve the soft, yet hooded dark eyes that held contact with his as his head bobbed up and down, letting his cock hit the back of Yoongi’s throat with a soft thump each and every time. Maybe he did deserve the way that Yoongi’s hands smoothed along his hips and thighs, drawing patterns that only Yoongi knew, branding them into his memory instead of doing so with purpled skin. Maybe he did deserve the moan that vibrated down his cock as he filled Yoongi’s throat with his cum. Maybe he did deserve being touched like this, his pleasure being focussed on instead of Yoongi’s own.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” Taehyung spoke airily, his chest rising and falling quickly from his panting, his fringe beginning to stick to his forehead from the little bit of sweat that was beading at his temples.

“You don’t have to thank me for this, Tae,” Yoongi shook his head with a small laugh, his voice sounding the tiniest bit raw from the blow job, “God, it’s so fucking unfair how pretty you are even when you’re sweaty. You’re fucking glowing , Taehyung.”

“ Stop ,” Taehyung whined, entirely embarrassed, lifting his hands up to cover his quickly darkening cheeks, but Yoongi was even faster to gently pull them away and push them above Taehyung’s head with one hand, his grip easily loose enough that Taehyung could break free with barely any effort, but there was not a single reason why he would want to.

“Don’t you dare hide your blush from me,” Yoongi laughed once more as he punctuated each word with kisses all over Taehyung’s face, “It just adds to the glow. To how beautiful you are.”

“Y-yoongi! Stop it- ahhhh ,” Taehyung cut off his own squealing with a high pitched moan as the rapper, who had somehow fished out the small bottle of lube that he kept between the couch cushions and coated his fingers with the strawberry scented product, gently pushed two fingers into Taehyung’s hole, accommodating them perfectly.

“Your moans are so pretty, as well,” Yoongi singsonged along with more soft noises coming from Taehyung as he threw his head back at the sudden pleasure to the deepest parts of him, Yoongi’s fingers curling deliciously to press ever so slightly against his prostate. The younger couldn’t help but arch his hips into the feeling, chasing the sweet overstimulation that was vibrating throughout his entire body.

Just like Yoongi had made sure to always, always do, he stretched out Taehyung’s hole slowly and perfectly, not wanting a single ounce of pain to be felt in the younger’s body as his cock would eventually push in, lubed up so much that it was dripping down onto the couch. While Yoongi always took his sweet time opening Taehyung up for his cock, the gentleness wouldn’t last long once he got himself sheathed deep within him, turning quickly into harsh thrusts that would never fail to send Taehyung into a crying, screaming mess. But, today, it definitely seemed as if the elder had much, much different plans. Of course, Taehyung was already leaking tears from the corners of his eyes as he felt the tip of Yoongi’s cock slide against his sensitive prostate, but the roughness that he had always had come to expect never came.

“G-go faster, Yoongi,” Taehyung begged, but the rapper paid him no mind, never speeding up his slow yet deliciously deep and firm thrusts into him.

“I told you, things were gonna be different this time,” Yoongi shook his head with a teasing sigh, “Just let your hyung take care of you, hmm? I promise, you’re going to love this. I want to take my time with you, I want to watch you fall apart underneath me as I show you how much I love you. Won’t you let me, Tae? Won’t you let me treat you like the angel you are? Hyung doesn’t feel like defiling you tonight, is that okay?”

Yes, it was okay. It was way more than okay. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung was absolutely obsessed about the degrading, humiliating, yet extremely pleasurable way that he was used to Yoongi treating him with during all of those late nights. But there was just something special about the way that Yoongi’s other hand moved up so that he could intertwine their hands above Taehyung’s head, holding them so innocently and gently as if they were walking along the river side on a date. There was something special about the immensely fond way that Yoongi was looking at him. There was something special about the way that he could feel every inch and vein of Yoongi’s cock as it slid along his slick walls. There was something special about the way that Yoongi didn’t seem able to shut up his grossly sweet praises that he couldn’t stop from babbling breathlessly to his lover, how ‘I love you’ seemed to punctuate each thrust in, how it would be followed with Taehyung’s own ‘I love you’ as he pulled out.

And, it was something special when Taehyung came a second time, his vision bursting into white as his entire body shuddered with the most, surprisingly, mind blowing orgasm he ever had the pleasure of experiencing, Yoongi kissed him with such passion that it seemed akin to that of a couple’s first kiss as newlyweds, standing together at the altar, before following Taehyung into the depths of pleasure himself, cumming deep within the younger with a drawn out moan that intertwined with Taehyung’s own, mind, body, and soul becoming one.

“I love you so much,” Yoongi whispered, breathlessly, as he positioned them so that he could spoon the younger from the back, his cock still within him, soft yet warm and comforting, grounding. “I’m so sorry that it took us this long to realize everything. Fuck, you must have been hurting so bad-”

“It’s okay now, Yoongi, I promise. Don’t feel bad. It’s behind us now,” Taehyung replied as his eyes fluttered shut, entirely exhausted and spent, with the widest smile pulling at his cheeks, “All that matters now is that you love me, and I love you.”