#but he definitely takes it as an affront to himself and his manhood

[heartofstanding]

The Jerusalem thing makes me want to shake him vigorously while yelling WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS at him. But it is interesting that Jerusalem seems to have been this unfulfilled goal for both he and his father. It does just seem like he's working himself towards a death, doesn't it? If he achieves the impossible with France, he'll move on to another impossible: Jerusalem. And both are choices that are bound to keep his subject happy, so long as he succeeds - and if he dies in the attempt, he doesn't have to deal with the fallout. But it does mean he has an awful weight on him to succeed, because it's his brothers who would suffer afterwards. There's the interpretation that Thomas's death makes him view his own presence and participation as necessary for victory which is probably why he was so insistent on going to Cosne when he was sick.

It's very hard to know, isn't it? It took he and Catherine about 10 months to conceive an heir which might indicate they were delaying or limiting sexual relations for whatever reason (getting to know each other?) - though it could just be a quirk of nature. Given Henry VI was likely conceived during Lent when you weren't supposed to have sex, it suggests Hal wasn't opting out of sex whenever possible so... idk. Plus, I think he understood marriage to Catherine and having a child with her was the best move he could make to succeed in France, and France seems to have been his main concern for most of his reign. But also, I do think that his own issues with his father may have been reluctant to be a father himself - sometimes I joke that he decided to end the vortex of Plantagenet daddy issues by yeeting himself out of equation (dying before he can meet his son and screw him up) but just gave Henry VI a different set of daddy issues.

I think you're referring to Jeremy Caton's comment that "[Courtenay] took part in both of the embassies to Charles VI in 1414-15, perhaps because he knew the king’s mind better than his colleagues"? I sometimes wonder what would have happened for Hal had Courtenay lived - if that would have helped him stay alive longer, but maybe that's the shipper brainrot, lol. More seriously, I wonder about the connections between the brothers and Courtenay. We don't know anything about them - he's credited with beginning the setting up of Oxford's library which will become Humphrey's passion project in the next reign but it's hard to tell whether that was an interest Courtenay helped inspire or one Humphrey came to through his own connections with Oxford.

Kirby does a bit of a "well, Hal wasn't involved but as he was nominally in charge he was held responsible" dance but it's also like. OK. That's still makes the charges look back. Either the charges were fabricated to attack Hal or there were concerns about about corruption that were expanded/exaggerated to attack Hal.

I honestly don't think Hal forgives Henry. He just understands that usurpation or forced abdication would just make things worse so he settles down to wait in hope someone else doesn't escalate things. I think he gave up completely Henry then. I sometimes play with the idea of a deathbed reconciliation - maybe Henry does try, when he's finally literally dying - but it's too little, too late. It's very interesting that Hal didn't stand vigil with his father's corpse (which I think was tradition?) but went off to spend the night with an anchorite in contemplation.

Henry seems such an indecisive king sometimes, something of a ditherer, so I can see him circling around the options and being unable to make a decision while someone forces his hand. Mary probably spent a very, very long time yelling at him in the afterlife, after she decided she'd speak to him again. Whereas Thomas - I think the letter he wrote to Charles, Duke of Orleans about their sworn brotherhood - might have been seen as more biddable/controllable (though the Battle of Bauge punctures that image - maybe they figured if they distracted him with battles and jousting, he'd let them get on with ruling) and maybe they thought they could deal with Hal in his absence and sell to him as an accidental death?

There's the Lollard issue. You can argue that Hal was viewed as having some Lollard sympathies, given his friendship with Sir John Oldcastle, while Arundel was deeply concerned with stomping Lollardy out, hardcore style. He was ostensibly visiting Oxford to root out heresy there and while Courtenay seems to have completely orthodox in his faith and his refusal to allow Arundel entry to the university based on papal decrees and the fact most of the university was against it, I think Arundel's the sort of man who is like "if you protect a heretic, you're just as bad". But it's also interesting Arundel was close to William Courtenay so you would think he would have some sympathy for Richard Courtenay.

I believe Arundel is also believed to have disapproved of the Beauforts, to the point where Given-Wilson (and Mortimer?) credit him, not Henry, with barring them from the succession when their legitimacy was confirmed by Henry, and since Hal was close to the Beauforts, it might have also played a role?

I could be burying the lede, though: Courtenay was an Oxford man, Arundel was a Cambridge graduate. 😱

To torture you: Courtenay extremely reluctantly giving Hal any last rites he may need in case the Dagger Incident does end fatally

Oh mannnn. I was actually poking at the thing I've been writing about the Dagger Incident and trying to determine just whether Courtenay knew about the Dagger Incident before Hal pulled it or whether he didn't know until afterwards (I think he's somewhere in the middle - he knew the gist of what Hal was planning but not the details). But man. Courtenay being the one who Hal goes to for the last rites? I'm going to go insane.

Though I might raise you a wounded Hal, post-Shrewsbury and delirious with pain, insisting that Courtenay give him last rites...

And both are like an inverse of Hal at Courtenay's death bed, where "after extreme unction, with his own hands wiped his feet and closed his eyes". I'm going to chew glass.

[ohdizzy]

Tie Me Down

Pairing: Taehyung/Yoongi (Side! Jimin/Jeongguk) Rating: Mature Genre: AU, Kidnapping AU (oh my god), Comedy, Semi-Crack, Romance, Word count: 12,000+ Chapter: 2/2 Summary:

“I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?”

“Wow. That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?”

In which Yoongi’s life is a parody of Taken and Taehyung is just trying his goddamn hardest not to get arrested.

(“You know, when I think of being kidnapped I think of being trapped and hopeless in a desolate warehouse or something. Seeing as I’m secured to an office chair with scotch tape in what looks to be your living room, I can’t help but be a bit underwhelmed.” AU)

Read at: ao3, or under the cut!

It starts off as an uncomfortable pressure in his temple but slowly worsens until the pounding in Yoongi’s head is so severe he wonders if this is how he’ll die—nursing a hangover the size of a continent with a mouth that tastes like unwashed ass.

He pries his eyes open with much difficulty given his current situation and position, and begins to come to the belated realization that:

First and foremost, he is not in his own bedroom. Yoongi knows this because there’s no way he’d be stupid enough to sleep with his curtains open. Besides, he doesn’t even have curtains—especially curtains that are the most hideous shade of green Yoongi’s ever had the displeasure of looking at.

Secondly, he’s butt-fucking-naked. Which, again, is unusual because Yoongi sleeps with at least two layers of clothes on every night because he’s the type that gets cold easily. Which leads him to the last—and possibly most alarming—realization:

There is something—no, someone—lying on top of him. Yoongi isn’t necessarily weak, but he’s not, like… strong. But this person is fucking heavier than your average laptop (which is pretty much the heaviest thing Yoongi has to carry) and Yoongi lowkey feels like he’s being smothered to death. Besides, this person, judging by the fact that their shoulder is currently squishing his left-eye shut whilst their legs are still firmly intertwined with Yoongi’s, is probably at least half a head taller than Yoongi.

Yoongi takes these three things into consideration, puts two and two together and gets five and,

“Oh my god. I had sex.”

It looks like Yoongi has well and truly returned to his former glory days.

“It was great sex,” someone replies sleepily, startling Yoongi. “My ass is so sore right now.”

Yoongi is known to be a little restless in the morning, especially after he’s had a lot to drink, so it’s definitely not his fault if he lets out a loud shout of surprise, completely shoving the body on top of him off him.

Yoongi’s underestimated his own strength because one minute the heavy body is on top of him, and suddenly—freedom. Yoongi’s staring at his own butt-naked body, covered head to toe in scratches and bites and hickeys (goddamn it must’ve been good sex) for a long second before he diverts his attention to a similarly butt-naked Taehyung.

Taehyung.

Oh god.

He’s broken the number one golden rule he’s lived by for the past four years: never, under any circumstance, fuck a friend (or, the FAF as he likes to call it). Because fucking a friend makes things awkward and complicated and creates unnecessary drama and feelings and is basically just one, huge clusterfuck that just isn’t Yoongi’s bliss.

Besides, it’s Taehyung. Taehyung, the boy who sends Yoongi twelve pictures of himself trying on different berets at some department store; Taehyung, who texts him disgustingly adorable good morning text messages with a million grammatical mistakes and a billion emojis.

Taehyung, who, Yoongi is pretty sure, is probably the subject of approximately 78% of Yoongi’s thoughts, and the very same Taehyung who Yoongi wants to kiss the fucking daylights out of. So yeah. Consider him fucked (quite literally and figuratively).

Taehyung blinks up at him from the floor, a hand splayed protectively over Little Taehyung.

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “That was unnecessary, but okay. Thank you for that.”

Every bone in Yoongi’s body is aching and his head is screaming, but there’s just something ridiculous about the situation that makes Yoongi laugh. He tries to repress it, of course—he doesn’t wanna look like a fucking ass in front of the person he would 134% bone (correction: did bone. Oh god, Yoongi is so fucked). But Taehyung just looks so affronted he can’t stop the unattractive snort that escapes his lips. Taehyung just looks more offended, which in turn, just makes Yoongi laugh more, and soon Yoongi’s laughing so hard there are literal tears streaking down his face.

Taehyung’s offended expression slowly morphs into a grin as the situation dawns on him and he starts to laugh too. Soon enough there are two, butt-naked people laughing hysterically, although the reason why remains unknown between them. It takes a while for them to calm down, with Yoongi feebly attempting breathing exercises to calm down his laughter.

“Did we really, y’know…”

He gestures between the two of them.

Taehyung snorts. “Fuck? Well, judging purely by the fact that both of us are naked as hell—as well as the fact that my ass is literally throbbing, I’d say hell yeah we did. High five?”

“I’m not fucking high fiving you, what the fuck.”

“Aw. Why not?” Taehyung pouts. Yoongi resists the urge to high five him.

“Because,” Yoongi hesitates. “I broke my number one rule. I never fuck friends.”

“What? That’s so lame, boo. Let me guess. You only fuck strangers and lovers? God, you’re so teen angst. I can’t handle you sometimes, Yoongi.”

“It’s fucking weird!” Yoongi exclaims, sitting up. “How can you stick your dick into someone and then joke about shit afterwards? It’s weird and makes things awkward as hell!”

“Easy! Having sex with friends is the best. You know why?” Taehyung asks. When Yoongi remains impassive, Taehyung sighs. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Why.”

“Because with strangers you can’t try out weird things that you want to because you fuck them once and then it’s over. And with boyfriends, it’s so… serious. Like, staring deep into each other’s eyes and slow-fucking missionary all the time, y’know? Friends are so much more fun. No strings attached, boom.”

“Okay, I’m not sure what kind of boyfriends you’ve had in the past but I don’t…stare deep into my lover’s eyes and slow-fuck them missionary style all the time. Where do you even—okay, that doesn’t even matter. Besides, what if you catch feelings for your friend? Then it just turns into a huge fucking mess.” Yoongi doesn’t point out that he, in fact, may be harbouring a teeny, tiny crush on Taehyung.

“Have you ever actually caught honey nut feelios for a friend you’ve had sex with?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi thinks about it, frowning. “Uh—no. But that’s because I’ve never had sex with a friend—because I’ve never broken my rule.”

“See? You’re being weird about it. I think you’ve seen way too many shitty chick flicks, Yoongs.”

Taehyung pauses as if an idea has just popped in his head, before his face lights up in a familiar way that stirs a strange feeling in Yoongi’s stomach. Yoongi’s seen that face way too many times before. It means that something’s about to happen, something that Yoongi won’t be able to stop and will probably end up regretting not being able to do so. Very much.

Taehyung climbs back up onto the bed, swinging his leg around so that he’s straddling Yoongi’s hips. Yoongi can very much feel Taehyung’s dick on his. This is Very, Very Bad. Yoongi should sucker punch Taehyung right off his dick and back into the seventh circle of Hell where he belongs.

Wearing a silly grin on his face, Taehyung leans down and sloppily kisses Yoongi, catching him off guard. Taehyung’s mouth tastes as bad as Yoongi’s mouth feels but he can’t really focus on that, not when Taehyung’s hands are slowly sliding up into Yoongi’s hair, not when he’s steadily grinding on Yoongi’s dick in a way that feels so fucking good.

Taehyung breaks the kiss, smirking when Yoongi automatically chases his lips.

“Do you want me to show you the best kind of sex, Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung sounds like something out of a C-grade porno and Yoongi should find it cringey and off-putting. Instead, Yoongi finds himself hardening under Taehyung’s skillful hips and he licks his lips at the mischief and lust in Taehyung’s eyes. His eyes flit down to Taehyung’s lips, where his tongue pokes out, wetting his soft lips.

Fuck yeah he does.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Yoongi asks, two hours later.

He’s lying in bed, the now soiled sheets covering up his bottom half. His legs feel like jell-o and his head is throbbing harder than ever, but Yoongi doesn’t give a damn, not when he’s basking in the afterglow of three consecutive orgasms (three!).

Taehyung slowly stands up, stretching (his goddamn fucking naked body) in front of Yoongi like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with seeing a friend’s soft dick. There’s something about this whole absurd situation, though, that is just so domestic—and Yoongi should hate it, honestly. But he doesn’t.

“Not really,” Taehyung bends down, scooping a shirt off the floor. He sniffs it gingerly before shucking it on. He throws Yoongi a pair of random basketball shorts. “You? Here, wear these.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi staggers up to slide them on. It feels kind of weird, letting his manhood just dangle freely. Strange, but liberating. “I literally don’t remember anything.”

Taehyung’s shoving a red cap onto his head, tucking the messy strands under the cap. “Do you wanna get dessert?”

Yoongi stares at him. “Tae, it’s like, 9AM.”

“C’mon, hyungie!” Taehyung waggles his eyebrows. Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes, before shucking on his shirt from the night before. It has a suspicious stain down the front but Yoongi’s just going to ignore that for now. “You want… pancakes? Hmm?”

Pancakes does sound appealing to Yoongi’s hungover ass. Taehyung must have read the hesitation on Yoongi’s face because he goes in for the kill, bounding over to Yoongi and pushing his face much too close to Yoongi’s for comfort.

“C’mon. I gave you three orgasms. I took your dickings like a champ,” Taehyung complains loudly.

“Ugh, gross, Tae. Your breath smells like something died in your mouth,” Yoongi says, wrinkling his nose and pushing Taehyung’s laughing face away. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. And I’m still feeling weird about this whole thing. So stop bringing it up.”

“Yeah, your sperm died in my mouth,” Taehyung cackles, Yoongi chokes on his spit. “All those possible babies you could’ve made. My mouth is a graveyard.”

“You fucker I—oh my god, I’m—”

“And it’s not weird! How many times do I have to say that? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the fact that you were balls deep in me several times. Besides, you loved it. ‘Oh yeah, Tae, you look so fucking good, you fu—’”

“Oh my god, just. Shut up. Please.” Yoongi covers his face in embarrassment.

Yoongi wonders if it’s too much to ask for a huge abyss to open up and swallow him whole. His parents would be sad, but he’s sure they’ll understand given the circumstances.

Taehyung pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, Yoongi. I’m sure as time goes on you’ll get less weird about it every time we do the freaky.”

Woah, okay. Time to back the fuck up.

“Every time? What makes you think there’ll ever be a second time?”

Taehyung looks at Yoongi like he had just spoken to him in Greek. “Um. Because? The sex was bomb, and you’re crazy if you think I’m going to pass Go without collecting my two million. Duh.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you? Yoongles, I’m not giving up that bomb dick game of yours just because you have weird teen angst about it.”

“Oh my god just—just shut up. Oh my god. Let’s just go get the goddamn pancakes.”

(Spoiler alert: Taehyung’s right.)

hobi uhhhhh where the fuck are u 12.14pm

hobi u never came home last night and u still haven’t come home yet 12.14pm

hobi OH MY GOD…….does that mean……that possibly….u had a one night stand 12.15pm

hobi MY MIN SNAIL, OUT GETTING LAID, IM BLESSDT 12.15pm

hobi

12.15pm

Yoongi Why is it that the first thing you think of is me getting laid? What if I had been brutally murdered? 12.20pm

hobi um don’t say shit like that wtf that’s so freaky wtf and besides you’re replying to me which means you haven’t been brutally murdered so THERE 12.20pm

hobi WHERE ARE YOUUUU i’m home alone n bored 12.21pm

Yoongi I’m getting breakfast with a friend 12.24pm

hobi oh my god 12.26pm

hobi first of all, u nEVER eat breakfast and SECOND OF ALL, “””FRIEND”””????? IS YOUR ASS LITERALLY SRS?????? 12.27pm

Yoongi Omg chill it’s just Taehyung we’re getting pancakes I’ll be home soon 12.30pm

hobi JUST??? TAEHYUNG??????? lol alright tell yourself that 12.30pm

hobi you don’t even LIKE pancakes like wyd 12.30pm

hobi wait what he fukc 12.30pm

hobi does that mean 12.30pm

Yoongi Don’t you fucking dare 12.32pmm

hobi HOLY FUKC OH MY FFUCKING GOD WAIT UNTIL NAMJOON AND SEOKJIN HYUNG EHAR ABOUT THIS FIUUUUU HAHAHAHAHDHSIAK 12.33pm

“Why do you two always show up at our apartment,” Yoongi complains as Seokjin and Namjoon settle back comfortably on his sofa like it’s their own, sipping Yoongi’s imported beer (that he had specifically been saving for when he has a long day and needs to kick back and relax) beatifically.

“Your sofa is stupidly comfortable,” Namjoon says with a serene smile on his face.

Yoongi scowls. “That’s your own fault for buying the stupidest furniture ever. Literally all your chairs are made of wire.”

“It’s Avant Garde! You wouldn’t understand,” Namjoon sniffs.

Hoseok makes an amused noise as he shifts through their vast DVD collection in a bid to find The Dark Knight. “He loves it when you come over, don’t worry.”

“I do not.”

“Anyways,” Seokjin interrupts, steering the conversation into safer waters. “Where were you two last night?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon intercedes. “We went over to your house because we got bored studying and you guys weren’t home. Hoseok I can understand, but hyung, you’re always home.”

Hoseok frowns. “What time? I was home last night.”

“Around maybe seven-ish?”

“Oh. I think I was grocery shopping then. Yoongi hyung wasn’t home all day, I think. Actually, coming to think of it, where were you?”

Yoongi’s scowl deepens. “You guys are worse than my parents. I was studying at the library during the day, and then later that night Tae wanted to go to the open cinema they have on campus on Thursday nights.”

“But Yoongi,” Seokjin looks puzzled. “You hate open cinemas, on the account of that one time you fell asleep with your mouth open and a mosquito bit your tongue.”

Namjoon smothers a laugh behind his hand when Yoongi glares.

“Yeah, well, that was like, what. Four years ago?” Yoongi says sharply, sniffing disdainfully.

“It was actually two months ago, but okay. Alright,” Hoseok says smugly. “Whatever you say, hyung.”

Hoseok wiggles his way onto the end of the sofa after setting up the movie, effectively sandwiching Yoongi between Namjoon and Seokjin. Trying to fit four grown men onto a two-seater couch is definitely not Yoongi’s idea of comfort and he makes sure to voice this opinion loudly, several times. Just so they don’t miss the memo. But of course, as always, Yoongi’s friends are assholes and don’t give a damn, Seokjin even going a step further and resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

The movie starts and the four of them settle down and watch the movie, but Yoongi finds that he can’t find himself concentrating. Not when he and Taehyung watched this very movie just last week, and not when all Yoongi can think about is Taehyung mimicking the joker’s why so serious? in poor, broken English.

Yoongi doesn’t realize that a stupid, sappy smile has taken over his face and that he’s staring at the Joker in such fashion until Namjoon points it out in a small voice.

“Shit, sorry,” Yoongi clears his throat, rearranging his face back into his usual blank stare. “I was just thinking of the time Taehyung was copying the Joker. He’s so dumb when he does it, but it’s pretty funny. And his voice is stupidly deep too, so there’s that.” Yoongi tacks on unnecessarily. What he’s just said catches up to him a second later and Yoongi clamps his mouth shut so he doesn’t say any more stupid shit.

There’s an awkward silence between the four of them for a second.

“You know,” Seokjin says slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “You sure have been hanging around him a lot these days.”

“No I haven’t,” Yoongi frowns. “I barely ever see him.”

“Oh please,” Namjoon snorts. “Literally once a day I send you my obligatory, hyung, lets meet up Katalk message and five times out of seven you’ll reply, sorry can’t, hanging out with Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok jumps in, ignoring Yoongi’s weak protests. “When you’re not hanging out with him, then you’re always on your phone talking to him or messaging him. And when you’re not doing that, then it’s always hey Seok-ah, look at this photo Taehyung sent me, look how dumb he looks.”

“And are we going to forget about the fact that Yoongi and Taehyung go at it like rabbits all the time? Yoongi’s breaking the FAF rule that he used to be so adamant on keeping. Like, whaaat?”

“Yeah! I got sexiled four times last week. Four!”

“Why the fuck are you all ganging up on me,” Yoongi protests. “So what if I’ve been hanging around him?”

Namjoon laughs loudly, covering his mouth with his hands. “Oh my god, hyung it’s almost like you’re—”

Seokjin silences Namjoon effectively with a stare and suddenly Yoongi’s glad for Seokjin’s existence. He’s always known, that out of the three, Seokjin’s always the one who has his back. Seokjin is the best. Seokjin for president.

“Guys, leave Yoongi alone.” Yoongi smirks at Hoseok and Namjoon who look properly chastised. Then Seokjin continues, “So what if Yoongi has a crush on Taehyung?”

The three of them don’t laugh (otherwise Yoongi may not have been able to control his fists, knuckle and sandwich) but they do exchange knowing, smug smiles.

“I don’t have a fucking crush!” Yoongi jumps from his spot on the sofa, whirling around to point an accusing finger at all three of them, stomping his foot in anger. “You—you fucking immature—immature… brats!”

And on that dramatic note, Yoongi storms off to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly so that they can hear that he is Most Definitely Not Pleased.

Much to his disappointment, they don’t come groveling at his door for his forgiveness. Instead, he can hear them howling in laughter.

Fuckers. All of them.

Yoongi stares down at his worksheet in growing agitation, clicking his pen furiously. These. Goddamn. Algorithms.

He can feel the burn of the glare from the girl sitting one table down boring into his skull, and he’s sorry, he honestly is, because he’s not usually a Library Asshole. A normal asshole, sure, but never a Library Asshole.

There’s a strange sense of déjà vu. Here he is, sitting in the library, at 10PM, clicking his pen angrily at the stupidest algorithms possibly to ever exist. The only difference is Taehyung is seated next to him, shooting him amused glances every so often as he types furiously away at his laptop.

(When Yoongi had taken a break he had peeked over Taehyung’s shoulder. To his immense surprise, Taehyung was sitting there, chilling like a goddamn cucumber with a serene smile on his face whilst writing about syntax and metaphors and other things Yoongi didn’t really want to think about.

“What the hell are you writing about? I thought you majored in music? Why are you—oh my god, are you doing this for fun?” With Taehyung, anything and everything seemed plausible.

Taehyung giggled. “No, what the hell. Why would I be writing a five-thousand-word essay on changga for fun?”

“Then—then why—”

“I double major in music and Literature!” Taehyung said brightly, leaning back on his chair. “I thought you knew that about me…? I swear I’ve told you this before.”

“Oh,” Yoongi replied faintly. “Double majoring. In music and Literature. Nice. Walk in the park, I assume?”

“It’s not easy, but it’s not… like… hard or anything. It’s just—” Taehyung shook his hand in a so-so motion.

“Not… hard. Okay. Alright.”)

Yoongi’s smart. He knows he is. But when he told his parents he would be doing mathematical economics in university, there was no way in fucking hell he imagined he would be trying to solve questions that started with Yangji has bought three hundred and sixty-one watermelons and fucking failing.

He supposes him not being able to solve questions like this in middle school was some sort of prediction that he would still be fucking useless at them come university. But the thing is this: he’s here to learn about mathematical economics, not figure out why the fuck Yangji decided to be a fuckwit and buy three hundred and sixty-one goddamn watermelons.

But. He supposes that not everyone can have what they want in life. And this includes himself so, he must, in fact, figure out why the fuck Yangji bought an insanely stupid amount of watermelons (and watermelons, out of all fruits. Why does it seem like the world has it in for him).

“You know what?” Yoongi says loudly throwing down his pen. He earns an amused quirk of the lips from Taehyung and a hissed shut up from the girl burning a hole through his skull. Yoongi ignores her.

“What?”

“I’m just going to quit school. I’ll become an escort or something. I know my legs are slim enough to go for that flower boy look.”

“Stop being such a diva.”

“I’m serious! What’s the point of continuing this course if I can’t even figure out why Yangji wants three hundred fucking watermelons? Like, what even?”

Taehyung giggles. “You sound stressed. Do you want a blowjob? I know you’re lowkey into exhibitionism, Yoongles. Remember that one time you f—”

“Jesus, Taehyung, keep it down.”

“Fine,” Taehyung pouts. “What about a sexy shoulder rub?”

“No, oh my god. I want to know how to get the answer for this question.”

“Do you want me to have a look at it for you?”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother concealing his scoff. This is the fucking kid who’d thought it was a good idea to kidnap him and attempt to fucking ransom him. “Taehyung, this is mathematical economics.”

“Hey!” Taehyung protests. “I was good at math in high school!”

Yoongi shoots him The Look. “Tae, this is a little different from your high school math.”

“Oh, stop acting like a wet towel and hand me the question sheet.”

Yoongi snorts. “Alright cutie, here you go then. Have a go.”

There’s a small part of Yoongi that feels a little bad for egging Taehyung on. Even if Taehyung was good at math in high school—even the best—this is fourth year mathematical economics. Taehyung doesn’t stand a chance. A small part of Yoongi feels bad, but a much larger part of Yoongi feels mean and vindictive so he sits there with a smug grin on his face, leaning back on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling like some high school rebel.

Taehyung reads the question once, twice, three times, and Yoongi kinda just wants to tell Taehyung to give up, but decides to let him suffer a little more before pulling him out of his misery.

“Yoongi, do you have an example of these kinds of questions?”

Yoongi cackles inwardly. Strike One.

“Yeah sure,” he says, taking care to keep a neutral face. He hands him another sheet. “Here.”

Taehyung reads through the example, his eyes quickly scanning the page, the frown on his face deepening. Yoongi watches, already feeling a mean victory coming on, as Taehyung hunches over the paper, scribbling nonsense down furiously, before punching a few numbers into Yoongi’s calculator.

Yoongi lets Taehyung fester in his own misery for another two minutes before he starts to feel bad and decides to show some mercy.

“Tae, it’s alright if you can’t do—”

“Okay! I think I solved it. Is the answer ₩28,940 with 6.18% interest per annum?”

Yoongi laughs, patting Taehyung’s hand condescendingly. “Tae. It’s okay. You don’t have to act like you got it. Besides, the answer’s—”

He looks down at his answer sheet, his laughter stopping short. In Yoongi’s very own chicken scratch writing, is ₩28,940 w/ 6.18% p.a.  

What the flipping fuck.

Yoongi jerks his head back up to stare at Taehyung like he’s grown another head. Taehyung smiles smugly back at him, shrugging and sliding back the worksheet to Yoongi who, in dumb shock, scans the paper quickly. And there, in neatly printed writing, is Taehyung’s calculations, correct down to the very fucking T.

“I—what the fuck,” Yoongi breathes, still unable to tear his eyes away from the paper. It kind of feels like his entire world has been flipped upside down and inside out and Yoongi’s really, really unsure of how to react to this.

He’s burning with embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a dark red. Oh my god. He had acted like such an ass, too. Yoongi vaguely wonders if it’s too much to ask someone to hog-tie him and then throw him into shark infested waters. Maybe that would be able to save him from the embarrassment.

When he finally manages to drag his eyes back up to Taehyung’s form, Taehyung’s absentmindedly twirling Yoongi’s pen between his fingers over and over again, a small, knowing smile on his face.

“You know,” He starts, and Yoongi wants to crawl into a hole and stay there forever. “I’m not as stupid as you think. I know everyone thinks I’m some sort of airhead, but I’m really not.”

“How did you—”

“I told you, I was good at math in high school. What I didn’t tell you was that I did an accelerated course. I did university math in high school.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi feels like an idiot.

An example of karma at its finest, he supposes.

Yoongi’s waiting under the shade of a tree for Seokjin to come pick him up from class. The usually prompt Seokjin is fifteen minutes late on the account of running into his ex-girlfriend on campus and having to do a detour. I’ll be there in thirty, sorry Yoongi~ the text had read. Yoongi sighs.

“Yeah, and I was like fuck that and they were like fuck that and we were all like, fuck that and it was fucking wild, bro.”

Yoongi perks up at the familiar voice, swiveling around on the spot and lo and behold, it’s Jeongguk looking excited as he walks slowly, kicking his feet along the dirt floor, one hand cradling his phone and the other gesturing wildly in the air.

“Hey—Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk looks up, eyes searching. When they fall on Yoongi his lips stretch up into a grin and he waves enthusiastically, making his way over to Yoongi.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk greets once he’s standing next to Yoongi, his phone still cradled in his hand. “Hey, I’ll call you back later, idiot. I’m busy talking to your significant other.” Jeongguk pauses for a second before laughing loudly. “Yeah, alright. Cya.”

He hangs up the call, shoving his phone into his back pocket peering curiously at Yoongi, who’s managed to turn a brilliant shade of scarlet in less than two seconds.

“Who was that on the phone?” Yoongi manages.

Jeongguk grins smugly. “Why, it was your significant other, hyung! Taetae!”

It might be the intense embarrassment Yoongi’s feeling, or all the pent-up shock Yoongi feels over The Big Reveal (or: the incident at the library Yoongi never wants to bring up again) but he takes one look at Jeongguk’s annoyingly cute, smug-ass face and blurts out, “Why didn’t you tell me Taehyung was a genius?”

Jeongguk’s expression melts into confusion, his eyebrows coming together. “Huh?”

“Why… why do you—you always call Taehyung an idiot when he’s obviously not,” Yoongi finishes lamely.

There’s silence for two, long, agonizing seconds before there’s a moment of understanding.

“Well… yeah, I know he’s not,” Jeongguk says like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “I’m just being ironic. Anyone who knows Taehyung knows that he’s literally a genius. He just makes stupid choices sometimes, but he’s not stupid. Everyone knows that.”

“Oh right. Yeah,” Yoongi quickly agrees, nodding along.

“Why do you suddenly ask?” Jeongguk asks curiously, peering at Yoongi with those big-ass eyes.

Yoongi, unable to say anything—how can he? Oh sorry, I thought your best friend was an airhead this whole time and probably made him feel stupid as fuck?—squirms uncomfortably under Jeongguk’s scrutinizing stare.

“Well… like, the thing is…”

Jeongguk’s expression darkens and he goes from looking like a curious bunny to someone who could literally knock Yoongi out in one punch. Jeongguk takes a step towards Yoongi and if Yoongi wasn’t so caught up in his guilt he would probably have been kind of annoyed at the fact that a living fetus is trying to intimidate him.

“Yeah hyung, didn’t you know?” Jeongguk asks lowly, his voice dripping with venom. “People misunderstand Taetae all the time, and he’s always getting hurt unnecessarily because of that. He knows people think he’s an airhead and he tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care, when in fact he does. So much.”

The guilt eating Yoongi up from the inside must be written all over his face because Jeongguk sighs, all the fight whooshing out of him in one go. He pats Yoongi’s shoulder gingerly.

“Hyung, it’s alright. Just don’t make the same mistake twice… oh, and hyung?”

“Yeah?”

Jeongguk’s face is uncharacteristically serious and a little sad, too.

“Don’t hurt Taehyungie. He doesn’t cope well with pain.”  

In the seven months Yoongi has had the pleasure (in Taehyung's words, not Yoongi's) of knowing Taehyung, he’s made sure Taehyung and his circle friends don’t clash with Yoongi’s circle of friends. Just thinking about it and what could possibly happen makes Yoongi shudder with horror.

Like, sure. Hoseok sees Taehyung whenever he comes over to their apartment (“Hey Hoseokie hyung!” “Hey, Taehyung! Are you here for Yoongi?” “Yeah, I’m here for sexy times.”) and sure, Hoseok knows Jimin from dance and Jeongguk because of mutual association, and but they’ve never actually hung out as a collective group and Yoongi would like to keep it like that, thank you very much.

So when Yoongi enters his apartment after a long day, looking forward to taking his pants off and drinking beer in the kitchen pantless like a real fucking man, only to find Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk sitting around his dining table drinking his beer (it’s always his fucking beer), hooting away loudly, Yoongi knows that his long day is about to get a lot, lot longer.

“What the fuck is happening,” Yoongi deadpans.

He’s honestly surprised and impressed at his ability to mask the horror and terror he feels at the sight of his friends interacting with Taehyung and his friends. It’s literally his worst nightmare (no, seriously. He had a nightmare about this a week ago). Maybe it’s time to drop his algorithms and pick up theatre.

“Yoongles!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping up and rushing over to Yoongi. He crushes Yoongi to his chest and Yoongi can feel his nose squishing flat against Taehyung’s chest. Yoongi grunts but relents to the hug, leaning into Taehyung’s touch. Taehyung’s warm and broad and smells like a mixture of laundry detergent and the cologne he wears.

When Taehyung finally lets go, he beams at Yoongi, pulling him to the dining table where the others are lounging. Jeongguk looks unperturbed by Taehyung’s clinginess but Seokjin and Hoseok look surprised. Yoongi’s not really surprised—Yoongi hates being touched affectionately, always shoving Hoseok away whenever he tries to hug Yoongi and only half-relenting to Seokjin’s hugs (but that’s only because he’s older).

But with Taehyung it’s different. It’s not like he enjoys them, but rather because even if Yoongi resists Taehyung always ends up finding a way to annoy and hug him. So Yoongi’s figured that it’s better just to hug Taehyung whenever he wants. That way, the hug will be over faster and therefore Yoongi’s suffering is also shortened. Foolproof, right?

“You didn’t tell me you had such cool friends,” Taehyung says accusingly. “I thought all your friends were going to be mean like you. I honestly thought Hoseok hyung was an outlier but Seokjin hyung is so nice, too! He invited me, Jeongguk, and Jimin over for dinner next week! We’re going to meet Namjoon hyung then! How nice is that?!”

Yoongi splutters indignantly.

“I can’t believe you held out on me Yoongi. They’re so cute,” Seokjin chides. He turns to Taehyung and Jeongguk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, whenever the four of us meet, it’s always Taehyung this, Taehyung that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jeongguk jumps in, grinning widely. “You should hear Taehyungie hyung when he goes on his soap box about Yoongi hyung. Doesn’t stop waxing lyrical about his tiny cuteness.”

Yoongi’s blushing so hard he’s pretty sure his scalp is red too.

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung whines, smacking his arm.

Seokjin sighs dreamily. “They’re like the cuter versions of Hoseok and Namjoon.”

“Speaking of Namjoon, you have to meet him. You’ll love him, he’s a riot,” Hoseok says.

“Yeah! You have to meet my boyfriend Jimin, too.”

The four start speaking excitedly, voices gradually growing louder as they speak over each other. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. Yoongi’s not just going to sit there in dumb shock while his literal nightmare turns into a fucking reality. Not on Yoongi’s fucking watch.

“No,” Yoongi blurts out.

Four pairs of eyes blink at him.

“Why not?” Taehyung asks, surprised.

Oh shit. Yoongi didn’t think this far.

“Uh… because…” When Seokjin raises his eyebrows at him, he bristles defensively. “Because! Because…”

Fuck.

Taehyung smiles, patting Yoongi’s hand comfortingly. “Aw, Yoongi’s tired. Jeongguk, let’s go now. It’s pretty late. Hyung, you’re really going to invite us over for dinner, right?”

Seokjin stands up, ruffling Taehyung’s hair affectionately. “Of course. Let’s make a Katalk group chat, okay? We can sort out details there.”

As Seokjin, Jeongguk, and Hoseok make their way towards the front door chattering about the dinner, Taehyung hangs back waiting for Yoongi.

“I missed you today,” Taehyung says shyly. “I went to look for you after my classes but you weren’t in any of your usual spots.”

Yoongi swallows.

“Yeah,” he manages. “I had a few group assignments due, so we went to one of their dorms.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says again lamely. “Are—are you hungry? I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Do you wanna grab something to eat with me?”

“Now?”

“Well—yeah. If you’re not busy. If you are, that’s cool too. We have ra—”

“I’d like to.” Taehyung smiles at Yoongi and he pretends not to feel the fluttering in his stomach. Honey nut feelios—in the wise words of Taehyung—are bad, bad, bad.

Taehyung leans over to press a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, giggling as he noses into Yoongi’s cheek after. Yoongi laughs, leaning into Taehyung’s touch and briefly closing his eyes. When he opens his eyes, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jeongguk are staring at the two of them. Seokjin's mouth is hanging open, and Jeongguk looks somewhat disturbed, but Hoseok. Hoseok has a strange gleam in his eyes that makes Yoongi squirm awkwardly.

“We’re going to eat dinner,” Taehyung says, oblivious—or perhaps he just doesn’t care—to the weird atmosphere. “Guk, don’t wait up for me.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Jeongguk replies dryly. Taehyung fake-gasps in betrayal and Hoseok and Jeongguk laugh, breaking the strange mood.

“Yeah,” Yoongi tacks on unnecessarily. “We’re going to eat dinner. As friends.”

“Hm,” Hoseok says.

Yoongi smiles uncomfortably.

“Lets stay here for the rest of the night.” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

Yoongi shifts in bed, turning so that he’s facing Taehyung, hitching the covers up higher. There’s an unreadable expression on Taehyung’s face as he walks his fingers up and down Yoongi’s bare arm.

“I thought you had dinner plans with Jeongguk and Jimin.”

“I cancelled,” Taehyung says. He stops walking his fingers and looks up at Yoongi, the corners of his lips turned down. “I just want to be with you tonight.”

“Is everything alright?” Yoongi pinches the soft skin under Taehyung’s navel. That earns him a small smile that seems to fall as quickly as it formed. “You seem down.”

“Not really.”

Well, that much is clear to Yoongi. All day today, Taehyung had seemed distracted, eyes darting nervously and a fake smile propped up in place of the genuine, rectangle-shaped smile Yoongi has grown to love so much. And later when Yoongi had pressed Taehyung down onto his sheets, fucked into him roughly, Taehyung seemed clingier than usual, constantly pulling Yoongi down to kiss him or intertwining their fingers together.

Yoongi moves closer to Taehyung, tangling their legs together before pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “What’s wrong?”

Taehyung exhales roughly, winding his arms around Yoongi tightly and burying his face into Yoongi’s hair.

“It’s nothing, really.” His words come out muffled. “Just… do you ever feel like, just when you feel like you’re starting to get a rhythm in your life everything just has to go and fuck up? I don’t know how to explain it, but… I dunno. I guess I just feel sad. Can we stay here for the rest of the night, Yoongi?”

Yoongi swallows uneasily at the finality of Taehyung’s words. Something’s brewing inside Taehyung, and it won’t be long until it spills over.

Why, why, why, Yoongi wants to ask. So many questions, and yet, Yoongi knows that when Taehyung gets like this—evasive and quiet—he’ll get absolutely nothing out of him.

“Of course,” Yoongi says instead, hugging Taehyung closer to him and pressing down the ache in his chest. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

TAEHYUNGIE hey yoongs 4.02pm

Yoongi Yeah 4.03pm

TAEHYUNGIE please come to my place at ur convenience 4.04pm

TAEHYUNGIE and by that i mean now 4.04pm

TAEHYUNGIE come to my place now 4.04pm

Yoongi Jeez, so demanding. Are you seriously horny right now? 4.05pm

TAEHYUNGIE no jeez not everything is about sex yoongs god ur such an animal 4.06pm

Yoongi -_- 4.08pm

Yoongi What’s happening? 4.08pm

TAEHYUNGIE secret hehe 4.09pm

TAEHYUNGIE just come and you'll find out okay 4.09pm

Yoongi Alright, fine. I’m on my way now 4.11pm

When Yoongi arrives thirty minutes later, he’s surprised to see everyone crammed into Taehyung’s tiny, one-man apartment, with Taehyung nowhere in sight.

Frowning, he sandwiches himself between Namjoon and Jimin. He turns to Namjoon.

“What are all of you doing here?”

“Wow,” Namjoon says dryly. “I’m really feeling the love.”

“Taehyungie sent us all the same message and asked us to come to his apartment,” Jimin says in place of Namjoon. “He said it was urgent.”

“Where’s Tae?”

“I’m not sure, Jeongguk and I were the first to arrive and he wasn’t here when we got here.”

At that moment, the front door swings open with a bang. The six of them jump collectively, heads swivelling towards the front door.

It’s Taehyung, dressed in an all black suit  as if he’s attending a funeral. He’s wearing a fancy hat with a net attached to the front that covers his face, as well as black silk gloves to complete his ridiculous getup. The six of them watch, stunned, as Taehyung glides into the room, drawing the curtains shut. He produces a candle (out of fuck knows where) and lights it up with an air of solemnity.

“Good evening, dearest friends. And thank you for gathering here,” he states in a low voice.

“It’s not even five yet,” Hoseok says somewhere to the left of Yoongi. Taehyung ignores him.

This entire situation is fucking ridiculous. Absolutely goddamn weird and ridiculous and Yoongi’s on the verge of rolling his eyes into oblivion. But there’s something about this entire situation that makes Yoongi feel like something really awful is going to happen. Yoongi stands up, wanting nothing more but for Taehyung to stop scaring him.

“Tae?” Yoongi’s taking a step towards Taehyung.

“I have something to announce,” Taehyung says, and it’s so stupidly goofy and ridiculous Yoongi knows Taehyung’s going to say something fucked up. He’s going to say something and it’s going to be true and it’s going to fuck everything up.

“I swear if you lost all your laundry again I am going to murder you,” Jimin says.

“I received a scholarship!” Taehyung exclaims, looking around the room. His lips are stretched in an unnatural grin. “In Daegu. I received a scholarship in Daegu.” Taehyung repeats again softly, looking directly at Yoongi.

“What?” Seokjin stands up. “Taehyung, that’s great. I hadn’t even known you had applied for a scholarship.”

Neither did Yoongi.

“Well, I was considering it for a while. It would be nicer to live closer to home so I could visit my family often. But I didn’t actually think I’d get it,” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk scoffs. “You knew you would, you’re a fucking genius.”

“Okay, I knew I would. But I was still surprised.”

“Wait—wait but why are you dressed like that?” Namjoon sounds as confused as Yoongi feels.

“Oh. I’m holding a funeral. My life in Seoul as you know it is ending. I thought it was worthy of a funeral,” Taehyung shrugs, grinning goofily. “I was lowkey annoyed you all came so early. I thought I would have time to make a funeral march or something.”

Yoongi’s world is fucking spinning round and round and round and he’s not sure which way is up or down and Taehyung’s grinning like nothing’s wrong, but his smile is stretched out so unnaturally Yoongi knows he’s upset and everyone is getting up to congratulate him and—

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  Yoongi bursts out, taking a furious step towards Taehyung.

There’s a shocked silence but Yoongi doesn’t care, not when Taehyung’s leaving Seoul, leaving Yoongi here alone without a fucking heads up.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung sounds surprised. He reaches towards Yoongi but he twists away from Taehyung’s grip and his hands fall limply to his side.

“How is everything a joke to you? How can you take something like this so fucking lightly?” Yoongi’s chest is heaving and it hurts so fucking much because of the amount of effort he’s putting into breathing so he doesn’t break. There’s something wet on his cheeks and he brushes them away angrily, alarmed and upset at himself and how he’s reacting. Min Yoongi doesn’t cry. No fucking way.

Taehyung’s expression is so soft, so gentle, but it has a note of finality to it that Yoongi just can’t fucking accept.

“Uh—we’re gonna go,” Jeongguk mutters, tugging Jimin towards the door. “We just realized that we—we haven’t done… our dishes.”

Suddenly the apartment is filled with awkward murmurs and half-assed excuses, before the rest file out quickly, the door closing behind them with a snap. The candle flickering casts strange shadows across Taehyung’s delicate features for a second before Taehyung blows the candle out, setting it on the coffee table and Yoongi wants to laugh because it’s so fucking dramatic. But his life isn’t a K-drama. It’s real life.

Taehyung takes his stupid hat off. “C’mon Yoongi. Don’t be like that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why, why, why?

Taehyung rubs his hand across his eyes and suddenly, he looks a lot older than he is. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“You got it that night, didn’t you?” Yoongi swallows heavily. “Last week. That’s why you were so upset.”

“I—yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because you were so happy that night. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. You make me so happy when I see you, Yoongi.” Taehyung lets out a small laugh. “I—I didn’t want to ruin anything. I just… didn’t want to make this harder for me than it already was.”

“Are you fucking serious? How can you be so selfish and only think about yourself? What about me? What about how I feel?”

“Selfish? It’s my fucking scholarship, not yours,” Taehyung’s eyes are blazing with anger and something else Yoongi can’t really put a finger on. “I don’t have to tell you anything if I don’t want to. And I’m sorry because I hurt you, but nothing lasts forever, Yoongi. Not degrees, not jobs, nothing. I’m not going to sit around on my ass waiting for something to happen to me. I would be fucking stupid not to take this scholarship.”

Yoongi gets the feeling that Taehyung isn’t just speaking about the scholarship anymore, and he can feel the ice in Taehyung’s words spreading through his veins, numbing him.

Yoongi laughs, and even to him, it sounds derisive and sarcastic. “You know what, Tae? You’re right. You’re completely fucking right. Why the fuck would you tell me that? I’m the idiot for thinking that you would tell me, I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

The fire in Taehyung’s eyes is dying. Taehyung was never one for confrontation, never one to like conflict. He’d always been the peacemaker, stopping Jimin and Jeongguk’s fights and telling Yoongi to call home more often. He’s too soft, too kind, too gentle—everything Yoongi isn’t. He sighs, and by then, all the fight has sapped out of him But not Yoongi.

“Yoongi, I shouldn’t ha—”

“And besides,” Yoongi continues, egged on by his anger, hurt, and confusion. He can feel the walls Taehyung had knocked down in one go rising again, can feel his heart hardening from the betrayal and hurt he feels. He takes a mocking step towards Taehyung, his lip curling back into a vicious sneer. “You say nothing lasts forever like we were even anything in the first place.”

Yoongi had never been particularly strong—never a great fighter like his older brother—and he had never been that popular or well liked back in his high school. Too scrawny and too weird because he didn’t like talking about girls and sex and cars, and Yoongi had been the outcast. And as a consequence of that, Yoongi had to learn how to fight to fend off Minwoo and his group of friends—a boy who liked to invest a large amount of time into tormenting Yoongi—and since he had never been particularly strong, he had learnt to rely on his words.

Ah, Yoongi and his famous poison tongue. Soon Minwoo and his group of friends came to know that Yoongi was all sharp features and bony elbows and biting words that hurt in all the wrong places. Soon, Minwoo and his friends came to know that if they touched Yoongi wrong they wouldn’t get hurt physically, but instead would their pride, their self-esteem handed back to them in tatters.

It’s who he is, who he’s been since he can remember.

He’s never been ashamed of who he is but for the first time in his life, as he witnesses Taehyung take a step back, his expression hurt and shocked, Yoongi wishes that his words were softer, that he was kinder. Because the next words he hears make his heart drop to his stomach, make his fragile world collapse and break.

“We might’ve been nothing, but I thought we were on our way to becoming something.”

Jeongguk Um no disrespect because I mean this with full offence but dont talk to me or Jimin or Taehyung anymore 6.32pm

Jeongguk Tae literally called us crying so hard Jimin couldnt understand a single word hes saying. I told you not to hurt Taehyung he cant fucking handle this kind of shit 6.32pm

Jeongguk Don’t talk to him again. You’ve done enough 6.33pm

hobi is everything alright? 7.12pm

you have (1) missed call from Joon 8.39pm

you have (2) missed calls from hobi 9.45pm

hobi yoongi can you answer your phone you’re starting to worry me out it’s getting late and jimin answered tae’s phone when i called him and said you weren’t with him and sounded pissed what the hell happened????? why is jimin over at tae’s??? 10.51pm

Seokjin<3 Yoongi can you reply to Hoseok? He’s really worried for you right now—we all are. Where are you? 11.06pm

Joon Dude where are u seriously we’re all really worried can you just please let us know you’re ok 11.23pm

you have (1) missed call from Seokjin<3 11.29pm

you have (1) missed call from Joon 12.34am

you have (3) missed calls from hobi 1.12am

“Hello?”

“Yoongi? Yoongi? Oh my god, are you fucking serious? It’s 2.30AM, where are you? I’m—” Hoseok’s voice comes down the line, shrilly with panic and relief.

“S—seok-ah.”

“Hyung? Are you crying?”

“I don’t know. My face hurts. My heart hurts, Seok. Why does my heart hurt?”

“Oh my god—Jin hyung he called me! I’m talking to him now; he’s so drunk I can barely understand him. Yoongi—Yoongi can you hear me?” There’s a rustling in the background in the background, a slamming of a door.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you? We’re coming to get you. Stay on the line with me, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m… at the pub near that convenience store Joon threw up in front of. I’m in the toilets.”

“Okay, stay there. We’re coming to get you. Stay on the line with me. Why does your heart hurt, hyung?”

“Seok-ah, I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.”

“Why?” Hoseok’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, so soft that Yoongi’s heart hurts even more.

“I didn’t realize, Hoseok. I d—didn’t realize that Taehyung was the best—best thing I had.”

“Oh, Yoongi.”

“Now I’ve gone and fucked it up like I fuck everything up and he’s g��gone. He’s leaving me and I can’t stop him and everything just fucking hurts so, so much and I wish Tae was—was here with me.”

Yoongi coughs then, so hard he sees black spots and his head throbs. It hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as his heart is aching and maybe that’s a good thing.

“Yoongi, hold on okay? I’m right here—”

When Yoongi comes to, he’s in his own bedroom with the sleek white blinds and a floor he can actually see, instead of hideous green curtains and a messy floor covered in clothes and books.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

When Yoongi comes to, the voice that greets him is cheerful and bright and completely different to the low, smooth baritone he’s grown to associate with stupid sweet-talking and ballad singing.

When Yoongi comes to, the first face he sees is Hoseok’s, peering into his own from a safe distance, instead of Taehyung’s face pushing right into his own, way too fucking close for comfort.

He hates it. He fucking hates it.

His tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth and his head feels like there’s a fucking drummer inside, pounding away at the temples of Yoongi’s skull. He groans sluggishly, raising his hand to press it against his head.

“Morning? More like afternoon.” Seokjin’s dry comment comes from somewhere to the left of Yoongi. “Here, Yoongi. I got you some water.”

Yoongi forces himself to sit up, reaching out blindly for the glass of water that materializes magically in his grip. He chugs it down gratefully. Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon watch him apprehensively.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to snap, he really doesn’t.

The three of them jump and avert their gazes quickly, looking embarrassed.

“Uh, so what are your plans tonight?” Namjoon asks awkwardly, swinging his arms back and forth. Seokjin and Hoseok glare at him.

“Sleep.”

“Oh. Okay. We’re gonna go out for dinner, we might be home late. Do you want us to bring you anything?”

“No.”

“Okay, well. See you later?”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi watches them leave, filing out one after the other silently. Then he burrows himself back into bed. Contrary to his words (and this throbbing headache), he doesn’t sleep.

Instead he watches the numbers on his clock flick forward slowly, and as the sun begins to bleed through his blinds, bathing his room in a warm orange, he can’t help but wish the numbers moved backwards instead.

And as the seconds, minutes, hours, days begin to blur together, Yoongi just exists. Doesn’t move forward, doesn’t move backward.

There’s a cavity in his chest, a black hole that gets filled temporarily with alcohol every single night.

Yoongi Tae? 5.12am

Seen: 5.34am

(“Aren’t you worried for Yoongi, hyung? I heard him crying in his room last night. He nearly made me cry, too. It’s so painful listening to him cry.”

“Of course I am, Seok. But what are we going to do?”

“He’s like a living zombie.”

“Joon-ah, you think that’s bad? Imagine living with him. The only reason I know he hasn’t died in his room is because there are plates piling up in our sink and the entire place reeks of alcohol all the time.”

“Shouldn’t we at least tell him that…?”

“I don’t know about you, but I kind of like having my head attached onto my shoulders, thanks.”

“Quit it, both of you. Seriously, what are we going to do? And tomorrow night is…”

“Fuck. I forgot about that.”

“Yoongi hyung doesn’t know, does he?”

“How could he, Joonie?”

“Hoseok, let’s just leave it for now. You don’t slap a Band-Aid over a broken heart and call it a day.”

“Poor hyung…”

“Let’s just try to take his mind off it for now. It’s the least we can do.”)

Yoongi’s sitting on the sofa watching a variety program when he hears Hoseok key in the password, the door clicking open shortly after.

When Hoseok catches sight of Yoongi sitting on the sofa, his eyes widen and he looks distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights. Yoongi mutes the TV, watches the people on the screen scream with laughter for a second before his eyes flick to Hoseok.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were out.”

“Yeah, I—” Hoseok stops himself, toeing off his shoes and padding into the living room. “I didn’t think you’d be awake, it’s pretty late.”

Yoongi watches as Hoseok trudges into the kitchen. He can hear the fridge opening and closing and the sound of running water before Hoseok emerges from the kitchen, carrying a large glass of water. He looks nervous, almost.

“I’m going to go to sleep now, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Where did you go?”

The question is simple, but the way Hoseok freezes midstep makes Yoongi sit up, wary.

“I…” Hoseok sighs, turning around. His grip tightens around the glass of water. “I went for dinner.”

“With Joon and Seokjin?”

“Yeah… and Jeongguk, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

Yoongi can feel himself stiffening at Taehyung’s name. It hurts, seeing the six of them meet up without him, but when half the group wants to land a nicely aimed kick at his family jewels, there’s not really much he can do, he supposes. He clears this throat several times.

“Oh.” Yoongi tries hard to sound casual, but there’s a forced air of nonchalance to his words. “Just a get-together?”

“Taehyung’s going-away dinner. He’s leaving on Friday.” Hoseok’s voice is sympathetic and a little pitying and Yoongi wants to scream at him, wants to tell him he’s okay. Because he is. He really, really is.

“Friday?” Yoongi frowns. “It’s Thursday.”

“He’s leaving tomorrow, Yoongi.”

Hold up.

“Tomorrow?” Yoongi’s standing up and he kind of wants to give himself a moment to applaud himself because he feels like the world is spinning yet somehow he’s still standing upright and that in itself deserve an applause, doesn’t it?

“Yeah. Um—” Hoseok fidgets nervously. “I was meant to give this to you after Taehyung left, but—”

“What? What is it?” Yoongi’s not sure how but one minute he’s standing up in front of the sofa and the next he’s aggressively close to Hoseok’s face and alarmingly close to shaking his lapels.

“Here.”

It’s a nondescript, black USB that looks like the million of others Yoongi has. When Yoongi looks back up at Hoseok for clues he just smiles softly at pats Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Do me a favour and have a look at it now, yeah? I’m rooting for you hyung, we all are.”

Hoseok turns and walks into his room, leaving Yoongi alone in the corridor. Quickly, Yoongi hurries into his room, sitting on his bed and shoving the USB into the port of his laptop, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waits for the USB’s drive to pop up on his screen.

When he’s finally able to click on it, there are two audio files on the disk. One labelled, LISTEN TO THIS FIRST and the other Hold_Me_Tight.mp3. Yoongi can’t help the soft snort that falls from his lips as he clicks on LISTEN TO THIS FIRST, before adding Hold_Me_Tight.mp3 to the queue.

He closes his eyes.

“Okay. So. I don’t know how to start this,” A familiar, warm voice bleeds into his earphones, accompanied by a small, awkward giggle and Yoongi doesn’t realize how much he’s missed this voice until he’s hearing it now. “Do I say hello? Or start this off as a letter and say dear Yoongi? No, a letter is so cheesy. Okay, so… hi Yoongi. It’s me, Taehyungie. It’s… Tuesday. 9.12pm, right now.”

Two days ago, Yoongi realizes with a jerk.

“Anyways, so. Um. Remember that first night we met? When I kidnapped you and you probably thought I was batshit crazy? That was a great night, wasn’t it? I mean, not for you. But for me, it was. Even when you were knocked out, you looked so angry and fired up, but at the same time you were so small and defenceless and there was just… just this part of me that wanted to protect you, y’know?”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches. He bites his lip.

“I mean, it sounds crazy for me to say that it was a great night, but it was. It really was. I just think about—about how… lucky I was. That I looked at you and thought to myself, ‘ah. That’s the one. The one I’m going to kidnap’. Imagine if it wasn’t you? We would’ve never met and I—I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Because you’ve—you’ve become such a big part of my life, Yoongi. You’ve taught and continue to teach me so many things and you act like you don’t care when I can see how much you do and you—you just make me so happy I just don’t know how to explain it. When I’m having a bad day, or when I’m stressed because of my major, I just think about seeing you at the end of the day and it just… lifts my mood up again.”

There’s something wet on Yoongi’s cheeks but he makes no move to wipe them away, his fingers tightening around the sides of his laptop so hard he’s worried it’ll break. Taehyung exhales softly, and when he speaks again, there’s a shy, hesitant tone to his voice and Yoongi’s heart aches and aches and aches.

“Remember that night back at Jimin’s party? When you woke up the next morning and we were in the bed together? You asked me if I remembered the night before and I said no, but I—I lied. I remember everything, Yoongi. I mean I was drunk, but how can I forget the night when you told me that I was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen? How can I forget the night when you told me that you didn’t fuck friends but fucked me like—like I was the only person you could see?” Taehyung exhales roughly and Yoongi can almost imagine the small frown, the way he’ll brush his bangs forward when he gets like this.

“For my major, I wanted to make something meaningful. Since I was writing and producing songs, I wanted to write things that came from my heart, not just something that sounded nice. You know that I have to produce five songs on my own, right? Well one of these songs, I agonized over more than any song. Love—love is hard to capture properly in a song, I think. It’s an emotion that’s hard to pinpoint and hard to say where it starts and where it ends because it’s so fleeting and unpredictable.”

“What—what I’m trying to say is that I—I love you, Yoongi. So much. I think that night at Jimin’s, I began to have an inkling of it, but now—now I’m sure. I love you and I’m sorry. I know I never took things seriously and it annoyed you, especially with the scholarship, but. I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I know I’m doing a cowardly thing because I’m not saying these things to your face, but I’m—I’m not good with these things. So, I’m sorry. And… I hope you like this song and play it lots and think of me when you do.”

Yoongi hardly dares to breathe and for a moment there’s silence.

Then a soft, piano instrumental begins to play and Yoongi is absolutely taken. A soft voice begins to sing, a voice that sounds like liquid gold and dark chocolate and Yoongi realizes with a jolt that it’s Taehyung.

I can only see you

I can only see you alone

The song hurts and tears new wounds in Yoongi’s still bleeding heart but he listens, he listens and listens and listens to the story Taehyung is trying to tell him. When the song finishes he sits there, tears dripping down his cheeks and chin but he makes no move to wipe them away.

He sits there for what could be seconds, minutes, hours, but he sits there as the song loops again and again until it hits him.

It fucking hits him and he realizes with a jolt that he’s going to make the biggest mistake of his life letting Taehyung go. And of course, that’s the most cringey, K-drama-worthy thing to say, so it’s only fitting that Yoongi leaps up from his spot, yanking the earphones out of his ears and jamming on a hoodie over his head as he hurries towards Hoseok’s door, so he can repeat it loudly to make sure Hoseok hears his cringe-worthy confession.

(A rational part of Yoongi’s brain calmly reminds him that it’s nearly 3AM but he doesn’t give a fuck—besides, when do characters in K-dramas ever give a fuck? Answer: they don’t. And therefore, by default, Yoongi doesn’t either.)

“Hoseok!” He hollers loudly into the dark room. He can just make out Hoseok startling awake.

“What the fu—Yoongi? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fucking not okay at all,” Yoongi says excitedly, sitting on the edge of Hoseok’s bed.

Hoseok blinks sleepily at him. “Then why do you look so happy.”

“Because I just realized I’m about to make the biggest fucking mistake of my life, letting Taehyung go.” And there it is. His cringey, K-drama confession. Uttered out loud to someone who’ll probably never let him forget.

“Uh—”

“I love Taehyung, Seok-ah. I love him! How fucking crazy is that?”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for Hoseok to reply. “Anyways. I gotta go. I have to go tell Taehyung that I love him. There’s so much adrenaline in me it’s crazy. I’d say sorry for waking you up, but I’m not. So. Cya!”

Yoongi registers Hoseok muttering something in reply, something like wait until Seokjin hyung and Namjoon hear about this, but he’s way too keyed up to give a fuck about anything.

Time to tell Taehyung he loves him.

As Einstein would say, it’s show time.

There’s a strange sense of déjà vu that washes over Yoongi as he walks along the familiar street at 3AM on a blessed Thursday night (Friday morning?). He’s done this before.

A year ago, he had been walking along this very same street at the very same time on a very blessed Thursday night when he had been fucking kidnapped and now he’s going down the very same street to tell the very same kidnapper that he fucking loves him.

The universe must be laughing itself stupid right now.

As he’s walking past the convenience store, someone comes out of the store staring down at their phone dressed in a weird, cut-up white sweater, and Yoongi realizes with a jolt that it’s fucking Taehyung. Taehyung.

(Like hello? K-drama, anyone?)

He’s not sure what spurs him on. Maybe it’s the adrenaline running through his veins, keeping him awake and #woke at 3AM, a time when he’s usually fast asleep. Maybe it’s the fear of Taehyung moving away 148 miles to Daegu and leaving him alone in Seoul with Namjoon and Seokjin. There’s a lot of maybe’s and perhap’s.

But he’s not really sure why he sees Taehyung, spots an empty soju bottle lying innocently on the floor, and doesn’t think twice before scooping the bottle, charging towards Taehyung with a loud battle cry and smashing the bottle over Taehyung’s head.

Taehyung crumples and falls to the floor like a fucking rag-doll and Yoongi is left standing over him with a shattered soju bottle in one hand and another hand clamped firmly over his mouth in shock.

There’s a lot of questions racing through Yoongi’s mind—why the fuck did he do that? Is he fucking insane? What the fuck? Is Taehyung okay? —but a bigger question overshadows the rest of them and Yoongi’s really fucking worried.

How the fuck is he going to carry Taehyung all the way back to his apartment?

Fuck.

Somehow, Yoongi’s weak, flimsy noodle arms do manage to drag Taehyung back all the way to his apartment and he spends a better portion of his time fretting over what to do before he calms down and makes sure that there’s no shattered glass on Taehyung (god that was a really fucking stupid move. At least number three on his Never Do This Again List).

He lays Taehyung carefully across his sofa and frets some more, covering him with a blanket before drawing those hideous green curtains shut. When he’s fretted in front of Taehyung enough, he upgrades to worrying in front of Taehyung, pacing back and forth in front of him, sticking a wet finger under Taehyung’s nose every so often to make sure he hasn’t died on him.

God, now he can see why Taehyung looked so fucking scared.

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, has upgraded from: Min Yoongi, mathematical economics major, retired party animal and lover of bubble tea to Min Yoongi: kidnapper.

He and Taehyung really do fit like two peas in a pod.

Taehyung stirs, startling Yoongi who hurries back to his position right in front of Taehyung, clutching onto Taehyung’s hand tightly. When Taehyung slowly blinks at him, Yoongi feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Hi.”

Not the smoothest line Yoongi could’ve come up with, but he supposes there are worse things he could’ve said.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s eyes are wide with surprise and his voice full of shock, but he is taking it surprisingly well for someone who’s just been knocked out and dragged back to their home.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. Was—was that you back at the convenience store—”

“Listen. It was an accident. You kidnapping me must’ve traumatized me more than I realized.”

Taehyung blinks at him.  Yoongi stares back at him.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

Yoongi crumples a little. “I…”

“You should go.”

“No!” Yoongi bursts out, his voice coming out louder than anticipated. “I mean… I just wanted to say I listened to your song.”

Taehyung flushes and pulls his hand out of Yoongi’s grip as he struggles to sit up, wincing. Yoongi purses his lip. That didn’t sting one little bit. Nope.

“What?”

“Yeah, and what—what you said.”

Taehyung sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Hoseok hyung promised he’d show that to you after I had left.”

“Don’t go, Taehyung.”

Taehyung scoffs at that and Yoongi can see his expression slowly hardening. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because—because I love you.”

Taehyung swallows. “What?”

“I love you, Taehyung. I—I’ve always had feelings for you and that was why I really couldn’t cope with the fact that you were leaving. And then your—your song. I listened to every single word, over and over because I know you’re not good with words. If you mean what you said in your song—and I know that you do—I can’t, I won’t let you go.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, before taking a step towards Taehyung. “Taehyung, I—I know I’m not good at showing emotion. But I—I’m so, so sorry for saying those things to you. I wanted us to be something, Tae. So bad. But when you said you were leaving that scared me because I just couldn’t imagine how I would—would be without you. How much I would miss all those little things about you, like the way you stutter when you get nervous, or the way you cut yourself off mid-sentence because you think you’re rambling.”

“You hate those things about you, but you don’t understand that I like it when you ramble, or when you stutter. You’re intelligent and funny and witty and just… you’re fucking perfect to me. God, Taehyung, you’re so fucking perfect and—and what I’m trying to say is, please. Please don’t leave me. I love you and I want to be with you and I know that’s fucking selfish of me but—”

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s breathing heavily until he stops, chest heaving like he’s won a marathon.

(And maybe, just maybe, he has.)

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m not leaving.”

“I—what?”

Taehyung smiles a little, looking away as red starts to creep up his neck and across his cheeks. “I rejected the scholarship. I’m just going down to Daegu to visit my family for a week.”

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking ecstatic, but why? You said you’d be fucking stupid not to take the scholarship.”

Taehyung laughs at that and it’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful. He reaches out for Taehyung who complies immediately, and Yoongi feels like he’s melting in Taehyung’s warm embrace. His heart hurts, it fucking hurts so much, but it hurts in the best kind of way because Yoongi fucking feels so alive and warm in the heat and comfort of Taehyung’s embrace.

He’s not sure who initiates it, but they’re kissing and Yoongi’s eyes are fluttering shut because nothing else matters when Taehyung’s mouth is on his own, warm and reassuring and moving softly against his. The world seems to halt for them as Taehyung opens his mouth for Yoongi, as Yoongi’s hands reach up to firmly cup the back of Taehyung’s neck, as Yoongi pulls away, only to pull Taehyung again towards him to drown in his heat.

When they finally break apart, Yoongi burrows his head into Taehyung’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and heart racing painfully in his chest. Yoongi leans back to look at Taehyung who smiles softly, raising a hand to brush the back of his fingers against his cheek.

“Well yeah, I am stupid. Stupid for you.”

Min Yoongi, at the ripe age of twenty-three, can safely say that his life is 60% K-drama and 40% porno. But he doesn’t really give a fuck, not when Taehyung smiles down at him softly and leans down to kiss him with a promise of tomorrow.