#and wrote them all down for me with her email which has me so 🥺

[hatchetsfield-arch]

my head is covered in blue gunk that they used for all the wires & electrodes to do the sleep deprived EEG this morning and i both look and feel like i walked straight outta professor hidgens lab

[daechwitatamic]

Chapter 5: Childish || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary:  This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

//

In which you and Taehyung address what happened at movie night.

Chapter Warnings: language, kissing, bad rap lyrics… listen i tried my best ok

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: This is a duplicate of Chapter 5. Apologies if you already interacted with the first version - it wasn't showing up in searched tags. The Ghost Post for Chapter 5 is here.

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 5: Childish

Sunday, November 18th

In the morning, Kiko’s bed is empty, so you text her, “Good morning???”

Instead of answering you with words, she sends you a Soundcloud link titled, Sirens [DEMO]  - MYG ft K!k0.

[9:02 AM] Kiko✌️: sry for bailing on the movie but we finished this

You scramble for your earpods, eagerly starting the track. The beat starts, fast and angry, and then Yoongi’s rapping starts.

All these months at sea have got me seeing shit I close my eyes and take an even bigger hit Your siren call has got my fucking guard up These last six months I’ve been so fucking hard up Snared by your beauty as you pass by Your siren song is just another goddamn lie I have heard you singing, each to each You’ve always been just outside my reach Part of me wants to let you drag me down Til human voices wake us and we fucking drown I’m powerless to fight it, I refuse to try Your siren song is just another goddamn lie

The chorus starts, and you hear Kiko for the first time. Her voice comes in sweet and steady, definitely her, haunting as it traverses the minor key.

“Holy shit,” you say out loud, pulling out your earpods and scrambling up the ladder to Bridget’s top bunk. She whines in complaint as you scoot in next to her, poking her arm.

“Wake up, you have to hear this,” you tell her. “Look at our baby go!”

[9:10 AM] You: omg omg omg that’s so good i literally woke b up to listen to it too

[9:11 AM] You: she hates me but she loves the track

[9:12 AM] You: your VOICE iasnfoiajefjef 

[9:14 AM] Kiko✌️: thaaaanks 🥺🥺🥺

[9:16 AM] You: if he gets famous w that hes gonna get a cease and desist letter from Eliot’s people lmaooo

[9:19 AM] Kiko✌️: ????

[9:20 AM] You: ts eliot? the poem?

[9:22 AM] You: ‘i have heard them singing, each to each’

[9:23 AM] You: ‘til human voices wake us and we drown’

[9:24 AM] You: they’re from that longass ts eliot poem idr the name of it

[9:25 AM] You: hold on im looking it up

You send her the link to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and click your screen off. 

“You think he wrote that about her?” Bridget muses, eyes still closed.

“No way,” you say. “You’d have to have some serious audacity to ask a girl to feature vocals on a track you wrote about trying to resist her charms…”

“Maybe he has a lot of audacity,” she murmurs. 

You kick your way under her blankets - your feet are freezing - and put your earpods back in, turning your screen back on to listen to it again.

Monday, November 19th

Monday brings sunshine, even if it is freezing cold. You’re leaving your final class, your laptop bag heavy on your shoulder, when a phone call comes in from Bianca.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says when you pick up. “I figured this would be easier than emailing back and forth five times. I’m trying to reschedule your session with Taehyung. Are you feeling better?”

“Oh,” you say, stomach dropping. Good, now that you and Taehyung aren’t speaking you can spend an extra hour alone with him! “Yeah, I’m all better. Thanks.”

“Great,” she says. “Can you do tomorrow morning? I know it’s kind of late notice,” she says apologetically.

“I’d have to be done by ten for class,” you tell her. 

Bianca schedules you for nine the next morning, and tells you she’ll email you both to confirm. 

You’re at dinner with Bridget that night when Taehyung texts you about it.

[7:55 PM] Taehyung: hi. Would you be okay with doing tutoring at the coffee shop tmrw instead of the library

[7:56 PM] Taehyung: i have class at 10 and its closer to the academic buildings

You wave your foot around in discomfort. You hate knowing you hurt his feelings. He’s obviously upset, or this would’ve been a facetime call. 

[7:59 PM] You: yep. See you at 9.

He doesn’t answer.

Tuesday, November 20th

When you reach the cafe in the morning, Taehyung’s already in a booth, books open on the table. You pause at the edge of the table, and he looks up at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“Morning,” you said uneasily. “I’m gonna get in line and order my coffee, and then we can start?”

“Sure,” he says, and goes right back to highlighting the Strindberg text. 

You frown, crossing your arms. “Is this how it’s going to be for the whole hour? Are you even going to speak to me?”

“If I need help with the work,” he allows, eyes still on the text.

“Taehyung,” you say, frustrated, “don’t be childish -.”

“I’m being childish?” he echoes, eyebrows raising indignantly. “You started the cold shoulder shit just because I dared hang out with a friend when we -.”

When we… aren’t anything in the first place. You know that’s the end of the sentence. You know that’s the truth. There was nothing between you two but potential, but that had spoiled now. You don’t wait for the end of the sentence. You turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait,” he says quickly, and reaches for your hand, holding your fingers tightly. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

You stand there, his fingers still clutching yours, frozen. His hand is warm on yours, his eyes intense, and you feel like he could just tug you right down there next to him with very little effort. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Let’s just… I’ll work on the paper. Let’s just… work.”

You don’t really have a choice. You’re contracted for an hour. Pursing your lips, you set your bag on the empty bench. 

“I’m going to order my coffee,” you tell him quietly, and he nods, finally dropping your hand. When you return, you settle in and get your laptop running. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to put the arguing behind you and get to work. “What step of the paper are you on? Isn’t it due this week?”

“Yeah, by Friday at midnight,” he tells you. “I’m just done taking my notes for the disillusionment theme and then I can start typing it up.”

“How can I help today?” you ask.

He frowns, sliding the Strindberg text between you. “I was looking at his last little bit here,” he says, pointing with his capped highlighter. “I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden - I was going to write about the word thought - like, he thought he knew what was there, he thought he was seeing something hidden that was beautiful and good. Like, he saw the darkness behind the facade, but then the sun shone on this spot and he thought that behind the darkness there was still something good… but he was wrong.”

“Tae,” you say, quietly. 

He gives you a warning look. “Don’t,” he says. “Focus on the paper. Am I onto something worth putting in the paper?”

“Yeah,” you say, begrudgingly. “It’s good.”

He nods and writes something down in the notebook he has open next to the text. When he’s done, he opens his laptop and gets typing away. You drop your eyes, focus on your coffee. 

He types for about fifteen minutes and you don’t talk as he works. When you hear the sound of clicking keys stop, you glance up to see if he needs to be reminded to focus, as he asked.

But instead of looking distracted - out the window, or at his phone - he’s looking at you. He’s pouting, lips protruding, and it’s so fucking cute that it makes you feel angry.

“What?” you snap, but you’re fighting a smile. 

“I can’t stand that you’re mad at me,” he admits. “I should have told you I had a girl at the house, that it was a friend. I’m sorry. I know that we aren’t… y’know… but if I’d run into you with a guy like that I think I’d…” He trails off, half-formed thoughts tripping him up. “It would have felt bad. And I did not mean to make you feel bad.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you want. You owe me nothing. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I was trying to be chill about it and just… failing miserably.”

“You don’t send someone homemade soup and then show up with another girl,” he says, shaking his head. “I screwed up.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him gently. “It’s fine. I’d like it if we just… moved on.”

–

By the time your hour is up, Taehyung has finished typing most of the paper. You make him promise to finish it and send it to you to look over before your normal Wednesday morning session tomorrow.

You gather up your things and wait as Taehyung does the same. Once you’re both ready, you turn and walk towards the door; you both have class right after, and you’re in a bit of a hurry to make it on time. 

The line of students trying to grab a coffee before the ten o’clock classes start is quite long, reaching almost to the door. And at the end of it stands Davis.

You drop your eyes quickly, as if seeing him would make him more likely to see you. You scrunch down into your sweater, hiking your bag higher on your shoulder, and pick up your pace. 

Taehyung is suddenly beside you instead of behind you, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly up against him as you walk side by side. He’s warm and solid against you, and you feel the tight fist that had been wrapping itself around your lungs release a little bit. It just feels instantly… safer. You keep your eyes down, but you feel Taehyung turn to look at Davis as you pass by. He reaches forward to open the door, and you step through together.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still watching the very fascinating pavement. 

“You have to stop running from him,” he tells you seriously. “He’s garbage, and you’re…”

You’re what?

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t let him get to you like that,” he amends. 

You scuff your sneaker along the path. “Which way are you going?” you ask him. 

“Pastorino Building,” he tells you, pointing.

“Me too.”

When he holds out his hand for you, you take it. 

--

[11:44 AM] Taehyung: you finally took me off of read, huh?

[11:52 AM] You: ???

[11:54 AM] Taehyung: insta

[11:56 AM] You: lol oh

[11:57 AM] You: yeah u earned it i guess

[12:00 PM] Taehyung: “i guess” o ok then 🙄

--

[12:11 PM] Nina💕: y is ur new man messing with Davis????

[12:14 PM] You: 100% honesty, i have nooooo idea what ur talking abt

[12:16 PM] Nina💕: walking around campus giving him dirty looks nd shit, real mature

[12:19 PM] You: omfg. i need everyone to grow the fuck up pls. 

[12:20 PM] You: knowing davis and knowing taehyung, i’d guess they saw each other ONCE and if tae didn’t smile then davis went and cried like a fucking baby 

It’s almost twelve hours later, after you’re in bed working on getting sleepy, that you realize that Nina had said “your new man” and you’d done nothing to refute this.

Fuck.

Wednesday, November 21st

You’re - stupidly - excited for your tutoring hour on Wednesday morning. You don’t know what is starting with you and Taehyung, but something is. But when you arrive at eleven on the dot, he’s not there. He’s still not there five minutes later, and you shoot him a quick text - “we on for tutoring?” 

Two minutes later, he comes up behind you, practically panting, a paper travel mug in each hand.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was already running a minute or two late because the line was so long, and then I got here and I couldn’t open the door -.”

You crack up, reaching to take the cups from his hands and place them on the table. 

“Did you bring me coffee?” you ask accusingly, a smile creeping across your face.

“I’m still trying to make up for Saturday,” he says with a laugh, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.

“You have already, and then some,” you tell him seriously.

“I hope I ordered it how you like it,” he says sheepishly.

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. “So, what are we working on today?”

“All business, huh? Even when I bring you coffee?” he teases, eyes crinkling. 

“I’m all business when I’m on the clock,” you agree. “Talk to me in fifty-three minutes and I can be more fun.”

“You’re fun anyway,” he says, eyeing you sideways as he takes out his laptop. “Anyway, I finished the paper last night. Can I send it to you now? Then I can start my Chekhov reading while you look it over?”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. “Chekhov, huh? Three Sisters?”

"Cherry Orchard," he corrects you.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” you tell him. “I’m excited to see what you think. I do like Three Sisters better, though, if I had to choose.”

“I don’t get to choose,” he says lightly. “I just sent you the paper, did you get it?”

“I’m surprised you even know how to use the school email,” you murmur without thinking, eyes on your screen, and you’re surprised when he laughs, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if you think it?” he challenges, raising one eyebrow. Something stirs in your stomach. 

“Shut up and do your reading,” you say, laughing, doing your best to ignore the flutter of attraction. 

When your hour is up, you walk together towards the cafeteria as you have on other Wednesday mornings. But instead of splitting up, Taehyung raises that eyebrow at you again, as if issuing a dare. 

“Want to sit together?” he asks.

You grin. “Yeah,” you say. “But you might have to deal with my roommates when they figure out I ditched them.”

Thursday, November 22nd

Thursday is cold, but the sun shines brightly, so you decide to walk at your trail between your morning class and your afternoon class. It’s too cold to sit on your bench for long, but at least the walk will give you some exercise, and some good thinking time. Your mind is disgustingly full of Taehyung - the easy back and forth you have, how shockingly different he is from your expectations, the fucking cute way he pouts as he eats, the sexy way he rolls his tshirt sleeves, the way his smile will start so tentatively and then blast full-wattage out of nowhere.  You walk quickly, the cold hitting you sharply, like a slap in the face, and you need it. It knocks some sense into you. You’re a fucking mess, and you feel a little out of control with it. 

You head back to your room to take a quick shower before your 2:30 class, opting to skip lunch. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, and you know you won’t be able to eat until tutoring ends at 7. You wonder if you’d be able to talk Taehyung into doing tutoring from the cafeteria.

You somehow manage to make it on time for Becky at 5:00, barely, but you’re starving by the time Taehyung plops down in the seat across from you.

You tell him hello absently, already digging in your bag for your wallet, ready to ask him if he’d mind doing tutoring somewhere with food.

“Oh, goddamn,” you murmur, shifting your laptop out of the way and scraping around the bottom of your bag.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, peering at you.

“I can’t find my wallet,” you tell him, starting to take things out of the bag one by one. Then suddenly you freeze, your wide eyes meeting his across the table. “Oh shit,” you utter. “I think I dropped it at the trail.”

“The trail?” he echoes.

“The walking trails over at the nature preserve,” you clarify, still horrified. “I went walking there before class and I had my wallet with me then, and now that I’m thinking about it, I didn’t have it when I packed my bag for class.”

Taehyung looks at you, calculating. Then he nods and says, “Okay, so let’s go get it.”

“What?” you say, sure you misheard him. “Now? It’s dark. And freezing.”

He shrugs. “We’ll bundle up. It’ll be fun, like a little adventure.”

“Trespassing on closed trails in the dark - in snow temperatures - does not sound like an adventure,” you tell him. 

“Come on,” he goads. “What else are you going to do? You’re in classes until it’s dark tomorrow, you won’t be able to go look.”

You frown at him. “How do you know my class schedule?”

“I pay attention,” he says, waving a hand at you, like this is insignificant. “So? We’ll use our phones and follow where you walked. It could still be there.” 

You stop to consider it. You could just consider it a loss - freeze your credit card, replace your drivers license. Or you could wait and see if anyone turned it into the police or campus security. Surely, this isn’t so pressing that you need to go now.

But.

But, going for a nighttime walk with Taehyung - even if it is fucking cold out - does sound kind of exciting. 

“What about tutoring?” you ask, resolve crumbling.

“We’ll talk about Ibsen the whole time,” he says, already starting to pack up his bag. “Come on, there’s a parking lot at the trailhead, I’ll drive us over.”

There are no other cars in the lot when you park - probably because the whole nature preserve closes at sundown, which was about three hours ago. Taehyung turns off the car and you both get out, turning the flashlights on your phones on. You guide him to the trail you took, and walk in silence for a few minutes, beams crisscrossing the trail as you go.

“I turned my paper in yesterday,” he tells you. You’re shivering a little, searching the edge of the path. “Two days early. Do I get extra points for being early?”

“No,” you tell him flatly. “But yours will be one of the first she grades. I’m excited to see her feedback.”

“She’ll probably think I cheated,” Taehyung laughs. 

“No,” you disagree. “It definitely still sounded like you wrote it. Your voice came through.”

He looks at you across the path, only a silhouette from your phones illuminating patches on the ground. In the dark, you can’t make out his face at all, can’t read his eyes or his expression. 

“You did a good job,” you reassure him again. “It was well written.”

“Thanks,” he says finally. 

You walk in silence a little longer. You can’t see anything except the small circle on the ground from your phone, and it’s eerie. You’re glad Taehyung is with you, but you’re half tempted to step closer to him, to walk in his wake instead of on your own. You shiver again, your face aching from the cold, your fingers going numb. 

This was probably a dumb idea. 

You reach your bench and you hurry over, sure that if your wallet fell out of your pocket it would have been while you were seated. Sure enough, you find it under the bench, in a small tuft of dead grass. It occurs to you that Taehyung is here in your most sacred thinking spot, but you’d never brought Davis here even though you’d been dating for almost two whole school years as students here.

“Got it!” you cheer, turning to find Taehyung by the location of his phone’s light.

He comes up next to you, putting his hands on your upper arms. You’re still shivering slightly.

“You cold?” he murmurs, and you’ve never heard that tone of voice on him before. It’s low, almost guttural, and your body responds to it��immediately, the blood rushing away from your head. 

“Mhm,” you say, not trusting yourself to try and form words. 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in, and you lean in, soaking in his warmth. This is fine - this is nice - but then he moves a hand to gently tip your chin up and leans in to kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, but his kiss isn’t. As soon as he can feel you kissing him back, he reaches both arms around you again, tugging you tight against him as your lips crash together. 

You manage to sneak a hand out of his tight embrace and curl your fingers through the wavy hair at the nape of his neck; you tug just a little and his mouth opens for yours, a tiny groan escaping him as if against his will as his tongue touches yours for the first time.

Everything about the kiss is slow but purposeful, intense in its lack of frantic energy. He kisses you like he’s got his whole life to keep it up, like there’s no reason to rush when he can take it this slow and feel everything, notice everything, love everything that you do.

You bring one freezing hand up to touch his jaw, your thumb rubbing a gentle line along the bone, and he shivers under your touch. He moves to tangle one hand in your hair, and suddenly it’s an entirely different kiss, all the energy and aggression that he seemed to be holding back earlier now bursting forth.

You appreciate the variety.

You release his hand and clutch the front of his zippered winter coat, pulling him closer, though it doesn’t seem possible. You want him closer. You want him to kiss you for a hundred more hours. 

He nips your bottom lip and you whimper without meaning to; he groans again in response to this, moving to kiss a line down your jaw and down to your neck. The air is instantly freezing in the wake of his hot mouth, and you shudder in his hands. 

When he finally pulls away, leaning back to look at your flushed face, he asks, “How about now?”

You laugh, once, and whack him in the chest. “A little better,” you admit. 

He presses his forehead to yours and inhales deeply. “I would like to do that again without the puffy winter coats on,” he tells you.

You laugh again, stepping back a little bit. “Okay,” you tell him. “I think that can be arranged.” 

Next

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reblog, dm, ask, or reply!

As always, a million thanks to @kookstempo for being an expert turkey-wrangler and also for beta-ing!