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magicshopaholic · 3 years ago

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Confessions (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: A knee-jerk reaction and misplaced jealousy leads Taehyung to finally get something off his chest.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: angst, smut

Word count: 12.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: jealousy, language, alcohol, vaping, mild exhibitionism, nipple play, fingering, oral sex, blowjobs, hair pulling, overstimulation, dominance, unprotected sex, aftercare

A/N: This fic is set a few days after The Date but while it's technically a continuation, it can also be read standalone. You can read the other parts here.

This is part of my submission towards the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square "makeup sex".

Last but not the least, a huge thank you to my wonderful beta readers @playmetheclassics and @jeoniius who went through this mammoth of a fic in such less time, gave me super useful suggestions and hyped me up at the end of it <3

Listen to: "affection" by cigarettes after sex

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

You shouldn’t have come here.

Of course, here can refer to many locations. It can mean Los Angeles itself, the holiday spot no one but you and Daniel Ricciardo wanted but ended up talking the other four members of your group into. It can mean the house currently occupied by BTS in Monterey while they shot a music video, only a five-hour drive away from LA (three and a half for you).

It can also mean the VMAs, a loud and public event so incongruous to your career that you had absolutely no intention of watching, let alone attending, until a certain American singer invited you as his date. It could mean the hideous after party you’d barely set foot in for five minutes before said American singer kissed you. You’d pulled away in shock - but not before Kim Taehyung had surely, surely seen everything (the sound of glass shattering, the blur of orange coupled with Eau de sauvage brushing past you and out the party - it couldn’t be a coincidence).

It can even mean right here, in this car, with three members of BTS who'd promised to give you a ride to the Hilton in LA where they're staying since it's too late for you to go back to Daniel’s house alone. You should cut your losses while you can. Either Taehyung cares or he doesn't - and you don't know which is worse.

Finally, Namjoon ends his call. He turns around to look at you. “Dilara, are you okay?”

You frown. It doesn’t seem like a trick question. “Um, yeah. Why?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “We saw you push him away. Did he… try anything? Anything else?” he tacks on after a pause.

“Oh, um… no.” There’s a few seconds of silence before you sigh again, leaning back in your seat. “Did Tae see?” you ask in a small voice. When Hoseok nods, pursing his lips and screwing his eyes shut, you groan. “Don’t tell me he’s mad at me. I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“You didn’t,” agrees Yoongi, in a tone that suggests that he thinks Taehyung might be overreacting.

“But he did see,” says Namjoon, answering your earlier question. “And… yeah, I’d say he’s a little mad.”

The sound of glass shattering echoes in your mind. Next to you, Hoseok scoffs and so do you, disbelievingly. “At what, exactly? I get that this probably wasn’t the most comfortable situation, but he doesn’t get to be angry with me. I had no idea that was going to happen.”

Yoongi sighs. “Taehyung is a bit…” He gestures vaguely, presumably looking for the English word “... territorial,” he ventures. “He feels very strongly about you and he was glaring at Charlie throughout the show, so… yeah, I’m not surprised that he’s angry.”

Namjoon chuckles, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “He overreacted a bit, though.”

Yoongi frowns at this, looking almost amused. “Namjoon, you’re saying that? Really? Picture, would you, for a moment, that he pulled Kaya close and kissed her in front of you,” he challenges.

“Kaya is my girlfriend,” snaps Namjoon, uncharacteristically so. “That’s clearly not the situation here. But… yeah, I guess it’s not too out of character for Taehyung.”

“Hang on,” you say suddenly, “where is he, anyway?” You whip your head around, as though expecting him to pop up from the backseat.

“He left with the others,” supplies Hoseok. “Probably a good thing. Taehyung usually needs some time to calm down.” He throws an arm around your shoulder and gives you an encouraging smile. “Which he will.”

“I don’t care,” you mutter childishly but fall silent anyway, glad that at least the rap line is capable of being logical. If you’re being totally honest, you don’t blame Taehyung for being angry - you would’ve been if some girl had kissed him. When Ariana Grande had hugged him on stage and kissed his cheek after presenting him with their award, the insane urge you’d felt to throw her off of him had shocked even you, knowing fully well it was purely formal.

Your decision to say yes to Charlie now feels like the worst one you’ve ever made. Granted, you’d said no several times before he’d essentially charmed you into a corner, compelling you to say yes in front of all the members of BTS, their choreographer, a couple of staff members and an assistant producer. All you’d done was go to the venue to visit them during rehearsal on Taehyung’s invitation. That’s all it was; you’d been expecting to see them sing and dance on stage, maybe fool around a bit with each other, and get perhaps an hour alone with Taehyung to grab a bite or sneak away to hook up somewhere.

In a random twist of fate, though, as a collaborator on a future release, Charlie Puth had also turned up and recognised you from the US Grand Prix last year. You’d made the mistake of telling them how lucky they were to be able to see Doja Cat perform live at the VMAs a couple of days later, and without skipping a beat, Charlie had simply gone, “Do you want to come? I still have a plus one.”

You’d frozen. Taehyung hadn’t been in your field of vision at the time, standing somewhere behind you with Jungkook. Only Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin were visible, with looming dread, mild curiosity, and barely-concealed hilarity on their faces respectively.

You’d said no, of course, that you weren’t fishing for an invitation. Charlie had laughed and easily brushed it off, saying he was happy to, that it would be great to have your company because he always got terribly bored at these things. You’d made every excuse in the book, from having plans to having nothing to wear (“Seriously? Have you seen what half of these people wear to the VMAs? Bieber doesn’t even bother shaving!”), until he’d finally said in a slightly conspiratorial tone that he knew for a fact that Harry Styles was performing, and weren’t you a huge fan of his?

Cursing every Harry Styles soundtrack you’d used on Instagram and the two concerts you’d been photographed at, you’d somehow changed the topic. By the end, you were clinging at straws until he’d dropped the question you didn’t know you’d been dreading.

What is it? Do you have a boyfriend?

Your heart had sunk and you knew you were caught. Moreover, you knew this was a question you couldn’t avoid answering, and not just for Charlie’s sake. Your voice had been steady as you answered.

No… no boyfriend.

You’d tried your hardest not to meet anyone else’s eyes. Behind you was silence. Deafening silence. The only person who’d expressed any kind of reaction had been Charlie, giving you an easy smile. “Is that a yes?” he’d asked. “It’s better than spending a Friday night alone in bed, watching BTS and Harry Styles on TV when you can watch them live,” he’d added, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, albeit a little awkwardly, somewhat impressed at how hard he was trying. You also couldn’t find the heart to reject him again, not when he’d made some fairly compelling points. Already anticipating a conversation you knew you had to have with the beautiful and surely annoyed man sitting behind you, you’d finally nodded. “Sure, let’s do it.”

That had been two days ago. Taehyung had pointedly ignored you for the rest of their rehearsal, the irritation coming off him in waves. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you’d found yourself initially feeling guilty but eventually getting annoyed at his immature behaviour, especially since he knew this meant nothing - and that you and he were not a couple.

When it was nearing time for you to leave, you’d just about had enough. You’d followed him and Jungkook out as they headed to the changing room next door, waiting patiently for Jungkook to gather his shit and leave. You’d let him pass by but stuck your hand up when Taehyung had moved to follow him, effectively blocking his way. Ignoring his huff, you’d stepped forward and shut the door behind you.

“What are you doing?” His tone hadn’t been as annoyed as you’d expected, being kept carefully nonchalant.

You’d given him a look. “We’re not doing this anymore.”

“What are you -”

“This,” you’d interrupted him, pointing between you two. “If you have a problem, Tae, we’re going to talk about it.”

Taehyung had sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground before lifting his head to look back at you. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Bullshit.”

“I mean,” he’d added before pausing, as though choosing his words carefully, “I can’t have a problem. I know we are not together and -” He’d shrugged, looking away from you“,- that means you can date whoever you want.”

“It’s not a date,” you’d said automatically, although you’d known that wasn’t the point. “But… okay, then why have you been avoiding me?”

To your surprise, he’d nodded and sighed again. “It’s stupid, I know. Honestly? When it happened, when he asked you out? I was annoyed,” he’d admitted. “You can’t expect me to be happy that you’re on a date with some other guy. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I was taking some girl as my date.” The Korean lilt in his voice had been more audible than ever.

You’d nodded, even as your blood boiled. You were therefore surprised by your steadiness when all you said was, “That’s true.”

Taehyung had nodded. “Yeah. But… you know. I get it. I didn’t like the thought of being apart on our last night here. And if we could bring dates…” He’d trailed off and swallowed, immediately looking away. “Anyway. I can’t do anything about it.”

You’d frowned. He was saying what you wanted him to, but there was something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. “Tae,” you’d begun, hesitating. “Do you want to do something about it?”

His eyes had been half-lidded as they’d flickered to your mouth. You’d become suddenly aware of how cramped the space was, how close you were standing, the headband around his forehead, the fact that you’d chosen to wear shorts in the LA heat.

“It’s none of my business,” he’d said finally, in a tone indicating that he wasn’t about to discuss this any further.

“Okay, then.” You’d stood there awkwardly for a moment. “So - so we’re good? We’re okay?”

A small ghost of a smile had appeared on his face as he nodded. “We’re okay.”

You’d bit your lip. “You’re not mad at me? Because if you are, tell me. We can talk about it.”

His smile had got slightly wider, but hadn’t extended to his eyes. “It’s strangely hard to be mad at you. Even if you try every day.”

Something had stirred in your memory. I want this every day. The words had been accompanied by an image of Taehyung, smiling sleepily, hair messy, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he kissed you in bed the morning after your first date a few days prior. Your heart had skipped an uncomfortable beat. You’d thought about the only time you’d ever discussed your relationship; he’d been cagey then, too, taking ages to answer and only vaguely.

The distance between you had suddenly seemed huge. You’d looked up at him, wondering how much of his smile was genuine. “Can I hug you?” you’d asked in a small voice.

Taehyung had sighed, rolling his eyes, as he’d taken a small step towards you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. You’d sighed against his shoulder, hugging him back, closing your eyes when you felt his nose brush against your neck. He’d been hugging you like always, yet, you couldn’t help but feel a distance, a lack of intimacy.

It had scared you, more than you cared to admit. You’d pulled away slightly and turned your head to kiss him, suddenly needing him to prove that he was genuinely as okay as he was claiming. He’d kissed you back, almost out of habit and you’d been relieved for a moment. His hands had been flat on your back, one hand snaking down to your hip as he deepened the kiss.

You’d almost fucked in that closet until you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Knowing there was no way to avoid it, you’d hastily thrown on your clothes and opened it. You exited first without making even the slightest eye contact with Yoongi, who was already groaning while your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

You thought you were fine. You thought Taehyung was fine. He seemed fine this morning when he texted you a picture of his outfit (an orange shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, black blazer, black slacks, looking unimaginably spectacular). He even seemed fine when you’d run into each other backstage. Of course, you couldn’t make it obvious you knew each other too well, so you had to be extra polite while Charlie greeted them next to you before taking your hand and linking your fingers to head to your seats.

Jungkook had texted you midway during the show to tell you that Taehyung was in a bad mood. It seemed like a rather useless fact in hindsight, since bad mood barely covered the half of it. One camera had panned to his face and showed him glaring absolute daggers in Charlie’s direction, which nobody but you and Namjoon seemed to have grasped the gravity of, while the rest of the room erupted in deafening cheers at his handsome face.

You’d texted him to cut it out, wanting to subtly remind him of his claim of being okay with all this. That naturally segued into a round of serious sexting; now that he was talking to you, a part of you found his jealousy so incredibly hot, especially coupled with the things he said, reading them as you sat next to your date, who was cute, but was no Taehyung. He said some things that made you more aware than ever of how short your dress was and, since it was strapless and had its own padding, how you weren’t wearing a bra.

It seemed like everything was okay. In fact, towards the end of the show, all you could think about were the things you two would get up to after, especially since it was both your last night in Los Angeles. But then the after party happened, Charlie tugged at the ring around your neck - Taehyung’s ring - and kissed you, and you heard the glass shatter - and everything went to shit.

If the situation were reversed, you would be furious. Taehyung’s anger is justified. But to be angry with you? He doesn’t get to do that.

The ride back is long and mostly quiet. You have no desire to make conversation, already tired and not looking forward to a ten-hour flight tomorrow. Yoongi connects his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and a mixture of soft old school hip hop plays in the background. The boys speak occasionally and mostly in Korean, meaning that you’re under no pressure to join.

You can make out words like “award” and “track” and names of people, and you gather that they’re discussing the show. Once in a while, one of them makes a remark about the song playing, snapping their fingers to the beat. The entire time, however, they seem to be regularly texting. When you sneak a peek into Hoseok’s phone, all you see is a screen full of Korean texts and if you have to guess, it’s their Bangtan group chat. You’re not conceited enough to think that their conversation is revolving around you, but you’re hard-pressed to imagine that the Charlie incident hasn’t even been referred to once.

Only Namjoon offers any insight into what might be going on in Taehyung’s stubborn mind. “He’s checking if you’re with us,” he offers abruptly, halfway through the ride. It takes you a moment to realise he’s talking to you.

“We left thirty minutes ago,” you point out. “He’s asking now?”

Yoongi gives you an unimpressed look. “You know that’s not what he’s really asking.”

You don’t answer, not when you’ve been called out on being deliberately obtuse; Yoongi has the ability to do that. By the time the car pulls up to the hotel, you have half a mind to call one of your friends from the lobby and avoid a confrontation altogether, but another part of you just wants to ensure it dies down as quietly as possible so that the last time you see Taehyung for the next however many months doesn’t end on such a bad note. So you follow them up to their executive suites on the top floor.

When you enter behind the rap line, Seokjin, Taehyung and Jungkook have already changed into pajamas and sweats, while Jimin has rid himself of his jacket and is lounging on the couch, feet up and his shirt untucked and halfway unbuttoned. You think vaguely of how, if you’d seen this before you’d met them, would lose your mind along with the other fans. Frowning at his phone, he looks like the sexiest cherub you’ve ever seen.

That thought goes straight out the window when you turn and see Taehyung pass by you in a loose Celine t-shirt and checked pajamas, thin enough for you to almost see what you know is under there. You offer him a small smile that he returns with an eyebrow raise of acknowledgement as he goes to sit next to Jungkook. You bite your lip, somewhat relieved that he at least isn’t ignoring you, but you’re suddenly confused as to what you’re doing in this room.

You shudder. You really shouldn’t have come here.

The plan wasn’t fully fleshed out. All Namjoon had offered was to give you a ride back; it was clear he’d meant to the hotel and with the full knowledge that it was your last night with Taehyung for a good long while, surely, you’d both spend it together. You’d imagined a night of intense sex, thoughts shared in the dark, private and intimate goodbyes until you left tomorrow morning, promising to see each other again soon.

Now, you aren’t even sure if you’re wanted here.

“Just give him some time.”

You almost jump, turning to see Yoongi come up from behind you and fix himself a drink. “Um, I don’t -”

“Want one?” He slides you a glass with whiskey in it, holding out a couple of ice cubes that he drops into the glass when you wordlessly nod. You do need a drink. Picking it up, you down it in one go as Yoongi drifts off into the living room and you pour yourself another one, shaking the last drops out of the bottle and following him.

As far as you know, the band has three hotel rooms booked for them but you’re not surprised that they’re all in one. You nudge Jimin’s leg and sit next to him when he swings his legs down. Finally taking your heels off, you groan softly in relief placing them flat on the ground for the first time in hours. There’s normal chatter happening, mostly in Korean, and you’re sure they’re discussing the show again.

Taehyung isn’t joining in; his face is the same, smooth, impassive, indifferent one that belongs on the cover of a magazine, even when he’s without make-up and simply scrolling through his phone. You wonder briefly if he remembers that it’s your last night here when he abruptly gets up and walks out. You don’t realise he’s speaking until Yoongi’s eyes flicker to you, landing on your glass. There’s a pause, and Taehyung presumably repeats his question, this time in English.

“Who finished the whiskey?”

The conversation stops abruptly at the uncharacteristically loud interruption. You have your head against the back of the couch with your eyes closed when you register what he’s talking about.

“Oh, um… that was me, I think,” you pipe up awkwardly.

For a moment you think he’s going to ignore you. But then he looks right at you, the smooth and arrogant expression only more pronounced. “And you didn’t think anybody else would want some?”

You aren’t altogether shocked at his tone, but you bristle anyway. “There was only one glass left,” you tell him, making an effort to keep your voice low. “There’s a liquor store inside the hotel if you -”

“How is that going to help?” he snaps, placing his glass down, the lone ice cubes rattling. “There are people in the lobby - you know none of us can go out now.”

“You have, like, fifty staff members here. I can go, too, since no one cares if I -”

“That’s not the point - if you were the one to finish it it’s your - your -” He grits his teeth and you know he’s losing his grasp on English because of how heated he’s getting, “- responsibility to at least tell -”

“And I forgot. It was an honest mistake.” As much as you’re trying to keep calm, your voice starts getting higher and you wince at the dull pain shooting through your temple, while his voice is the loudest you’ve ever heard. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Because it’s called courtesy,” he snaps, his accent and tone making the word sound like a cuss word. “Where you inform people when you finish the whiskey so they don’t get their hopes up when they open the fucking minibar!”

“Tae.” You say his name firmly, now losing patience. “Watch it.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, sweeping into the living room to grab his phone. While heading out, he mutters, “Oh, I watched it.”

The last comment makes you whip your head around to look at him and you stand up, spinning for a second before grabbing Jimin’s shoulder for balance. “What did you say?” When he ignores you and continues walking away, you snap. “You know what, Tae? Why don’t you just cut the crap and admit the real reason you’re acting like a dick right now?”

He stops in his tracks and turns around, giving you a challenging look, one eyebrow raised. “The real reason? Please, enlighten me.”

You roll your eyes, knowing he just wants you to say it out loud. “You’re just pissed because I went on a stupid date with some other guy and paid attention to him the whole time.”

He shrugs. “I thought you said it wasn’t a date.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree, not even caring that you’re having this embarrassing tiff in front of half his band. “But that hasn’t stopped you from overreacting, like some jealous child.”

You know instantly it’s the wrong thing to say. Taehyung’s eyes blaze and his jaw clenches, and he looks scary. Then he scoffs again, almost as if this fight isn’t worth his time. “Jealous? I’m not your boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He’s absolutely right and it’s the very point you’re trying to make as well, but the words still crush you, especially with the sarcastic sweetheart at the end. But he’s being ridiculous and you have no intention of letting him get away with it. “That’s right,” you say after a moment. “You aren’t.”

Taehyung’s a good actor, a very good actor when he wants to be, but when his face falls you suddenly realise how off guard you’ve taken him. He’s silent for a moment, eyes boring into you. You have to make every effort to not fold, to continue meeting his gaze definitively. When he speaks, he sounds like a completely different person.

“Would that really be so bad?” His voice is a mixture of insistence, annoyance and hurt. Before you can say anything, he turns around on his heels and stalks out, disappearing into one of the rooms before slamming the door shut.

You stay frozen in your spot, thoroughly confused. Would that really be so bad? What on earth did that mean? Did he want to be your boyfriend? After everything you’d talked about? You turn to the other boys, expecting them to mirror your confusion, but you do a double-take when you see them avoiding your gaze except for Namjoon and Seokjin, who are looking at you as though you ought to have seen this coming.

Wordlessly, you sink back into your seat, tucking your knees together and suddenly conscious of how short your dress is. There are a few moments of excruciating silence before someone clears his throat. Everyone turns to look at Namjoon. “Okay, so I’ve got to ask,” he begins slowly, looking rather like he’s approaching a bird unawares, “but why aren’t you two together, again?”

The others don’t say anything but it’s clearer than ever from the way they all look at you expectantly that they’d love an answer to this. “We…” You clear your throat, hoping you don’t choke on your own words. You wonder if he’s asked Taehyung this, and what response he’s gotten. “We talked about this. With our schedules and our careers and - and everything… it - it won’t work. He agreed with me,” you add, cringing at how pathetic you sound.

Namjoon simply purses his lips, as though willing himself not to say anything, and looks at Seokjin next to him. From the look on most of their faces, it seems like they’re considering your words but aren’t very convinced. You’re still stuck on the image of Taehyung’s face when you threw Charlie in his face, though, explicitly reminding him that he isn’t your boyfriend.

You swallow. “Did I… did I actually do something wrong by saying yes to Charlie?” You’re genuinely confused now; you don’t think you have but his reaction seems, by all accounts, a bit excessive.

Yoongi is the first one to speak. “No, you didn’t,” he states, sounding like he means it. The others murmur in agreement, Namjoon simply sighing.

“Taehyung is…” You turn to look at Jimin next to you, who’s looking at his hands before looking up to you nervously. “He misses you when you’re gone. A lot,” he adds, the English sounding foreign on his tongue as he speaks slowly, his accent just like Taehyung’s. He hesitates, as though he's still not sure if he should be saying anything. But if there is anyone’s opinion you want, it’s Taehyung’s best friend in the world.

“And now you’re leaving again… I think he’s afraid you’ll meet someone else and he won’t be able to do anything.” He pauses and his eyes flicker to the others. “And tonight he… he saw it happening in front of him.”

You wonder if they know about Alex Turner. You suddenly recall the only time you and Taehyung ever spoke about him, how his face had fallen when he’d realised you’d found someone else. Of course, Alex couldn’t hold a candle to Taehyung, but the fact remains that this isn’t the first time he’s had to worry about losing you to someone else, even if he genuinely has nothing to worry about.

“Do you -” Everyone looks up at Hoseok, whom you personally weren’t expecting to speak up about this. “Do you feel the same?” It’s an innocent enough question, but his tone seems to suggest that you should.

“I -” You bite your lip, confused. “This is the only way this will work,” is all you can say.

“Aren’t you afraid, though?” Namjoon asks, sounding genuinely curious. “That he’ll start dating someone else?”

As usual, Rap Monster seems to have hit the nail on the head. You had been wondering this entire time why Taehyung’s jealousy surpassed your own, at least outwardly, until you’d eventually chalked it down to his personality. The others backed it up and you let it go, but now you see it, clearly, for the first time.

You exhale shakily, realising that you’re finally about to put it into words. “I… I’ve kind of made my peace with it,” you venture, choosing to look at nothing but your hands. “I know he’s not going to end up with me… I’m not from the industry, I’m not Korean, I - I don’t know…” You feel a prickling behind your eyes and you realise, that knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I know he’ll find someone else eventually.”

It takes you a few seconds but you finally look up at the others, only to see them, once again, looking at you with various expressions of confusion and borderline disgust. Finally, Jungkook speaks.

“Um…” he hesitates, and you know it’s because you’re older than him, but he shakes his head, apparently deciding it needs to be said. “Are you…” He pauses again. “Dilara, are you crazy? Do you know how - do you know that he -” He shakes his head and sticks his tongue in his cheek as he searches for the right words, presumably to explain to you how insane you apparently are. Finally he blurts out something in Korean, sounding incredulous and turning to Namjoon to translate.

Namjoon simply shakes his head, though, and you’re a little taken aback, not expecting Jungkook to be this blunt. You don’t know how to reply, but Yoongi takes over for him anyway.

“I don’t think you’re giving Taehyung enough credit,” he declares, his voice dry and steady as always.

You feel yourself getting defensive. “I’m just being realistic.”

Yoongi simply raises his eyebrows and says nothing. You look from him to Seokjin, then Namjoon, then all the others… you swallow. For the first time since you’ve been here in Los Angeles, you’re fully conscious of the fact that you’re a guest here. Not in this hotel room, but with this group. No matter how nice they are or how much they genuinely like you, they will always, always, stick up for Taehyung.

Suddenly feeling ganged up on, you stand and slip your feet into your shoes awkwardly. “Can I use the, uh…” You nod when Namjoon silently points to the hallway and you shuffle out, not stopping until you get inside and shut the bathroom door behind you. Hoping you won’t cry, you sit on the closed toilet and drop your head in your hands, trying to breathe so your head stops spinning.

You realise eventually, that there’s a very real possibility that you and Taehyung won’t be spending your last night together. The best you can do is salvage your dignity and leave right now, either taking a cab back to Daniel’s house or getting someone from your group to pick you up. You glance into the mirror, glaring at the make-up and dress you’d gotten ready in earlier today, keeping no one but Taehyung in mind. The dress is a simple grey and dusty purple strapless number, nothing fancy. But they’re his favourite colours and now you feel like an idiot for caring at all.

Not hearing anything outside except some light murmuring, you decide to at least text Daniel and see where they all are. When you open the app, however, the first thing you see is your thread with Taehyung and the last message you’d sent him earlier tonight. "All yours tonight, baby. Fuck me all night and tell the world who I belong to."

You’d sent that to him, painfully aware of your arousal and thinking of nothing but Taehyung making you feel insatiable tonight. It’s a mess - but it’s your and Taehyung’s mess and you know that in this particular situation, just like the day Charlie asked you to the VMAs, you need to go to Taehyung.

Suddenly, you’re annoyed. You leave the bathroom, ignoring the other guys and heading straight to the room Taehyung disappeared into. You don’t even bother knocking. When you enter, it takes a moment for you to adjust to the darkness before you roll your eyes at the sight before you. In the middle of the dark room lies Taehyung, curled up in the foetal position on his bed and silently scrolling through his phone, the only source of light.

So dramatic. You shut the door behind you. At the sound, his thumb pauses on the screen for a second before resuming its scrolling - through Twitter, you gather, even though the text is purely in Korean.

Rolling your eyes yet again, you climb onto the bed behind him and prop your head up on your elbow. “Tae,” you mutter softly, placing a hand hesitantly on his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug it off, which you take as a good sign. You rest your forehead against his cheek. “Tae,” you repeat into his neck, whining a little this time. The scent of lotion and spicy cologne still lingers and you shamelessly inhale it, having no idea when you’ll get to be around it again.

When he doesn’t respond, you slide your arm around his waist. “You promised me you’d fuck me all night,” you pout, brushing your hips against his. “Show the world who I belong to?”

You pause, waiting for a sudden move, an animalistic flip of you on the bed, either on your back or front, a growl or a hiss of agreement. But when nothing happens, you frown. “Tae.” This time, you’re not playing around. “Taehyung, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

He doesn’t move. Your heart feels like it might fall out of your chest. You scoff and climb off the bed, humiliated. “Fine. See you in another six months, Tae.”

You storm out of his room, making a beeline to the front door. You don’t care anymore. You didn’t even do anything wrong and you’ve still tried to make it right. If Taehyung still wants to sulk about Charlie instead of spending your last night together, then that’s his decision. When you enter the hallway, your long hair blocking your view of the other members as you send a message on your group chat, someone intercepts you.

“Hey.” Jimin catches your wrist lightly before dropping it, Seokjin just behind him. “Is everything okay?”

You don’t know where to start. “I need to get back. I have a flight tomorrow.” You pretend not to notice how your voice cracks on the last word.

Jimin bites his lip, looking uncertain. “We…” He pauses and it takes you a moment to place the expression on his face: guilt. “We’re sorry about…” He breaks off again before resuming. “We were - how do you say it in English? Off the line? Out of line?” When you nod, he smiles. “It was none of our business.”

“Also, Taehyung will kill us if he knew we spoke to you that way,” adds Seokjin helpfully.

“Right.” You know Seokjin is the type to defuse the tension with jokes, but this one rubs you the wrong way. “Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out to him,” you reply dryly, moving forward when Jimin stops you again.

“Wait, are you leaving?”

“Yes. I told you, I have a flight.”

“But -” His eyes dart in the direction of Taehyung’s room before coming back to you, wide and confused. You can tell he wants to say something but in light of his recent apology of sorts, he can’t quite do that. “It’s dark. And late,” he says instead.

“I can bench press double my weight. I’ll be fine.”

Jimin falls silent and you feel guilty for a fraction of a second, but the moment passes quickly. “Um… fly safe,” he says eventually, raising his arms halfway for what you presume is a hug.

You hesitate for a moment but step forward, surprised at how firm the hug is. Seokjin follows suit, a bit more formally until your cheeks are burning from a combination of awkwardness and humiliation and you just want to leave and never come back. Just as you’re about to, Namjoon enters the hallway as well and with a reaction similar to Jimin’s, simply hugs you and wishes you a safe flight.

“Call if you need anything,” he murmurs in your ear before letting go, and for a moment you want to sob.

You can’t leave soon enough after that. In the quiet of the hotel corridor, you let out a huge breath. This is it, then, you suppose. You always knew your transatlantic dalliance with a world famous boyband member had to come to an end sometime. It’s not ideal how it’s happening, but it probably beats the tears. With this rather flimsy viewpoint, you begin walking towards the elevator, this time calling Blake, Daniel’s manager, who’s definitely more likely to be sober at this time of night.

Your heels sink softly into the carpeted floor as you walk, your heart heavy with every step you take. It's tragic how it ended; the meeting by chance in Japan, seeing each other across the room during the after party, falling in love over forty-eight hours, meeting again in Los Angeles months later with nothing changing, and once again during this trip. You had your first date with Taehyung five days ago; the picture he’d taken of you both kissing with the Polaroid you gifted him is in your backpack in Danny’s house.

The elevator pings when you press the button. It’s on the ground floor; given that you’re currently on the fortieth floor, you suppose you have a good few minutes to kill. You can’t believe this. You’ve never felt like such a loser, all dolled up in a dress with styled hair and subtle make-up and heels that make your feet ache, only to make the PG-13 walk of shame back to a friend’s house after what you can only term as a break-up, which is ridiculous since you weren’t even dating.

Taehyung’s expression when you’d thrown that very fact in his face burns in your memory. More than the fact that it clearly hurt him, you’re surprised at how much it seemed to hurt him, that you even had the kind of power to make him feel that bad.

There’s a subtle shift in clarity and your heart sinks when you realise it; you may have done nothing wrong technically by going out with Charlie and Taehyung may be acting childishly, but he’s still hurt, and it’s because of something you did. It’s pointless to pretend you wouldn’t have had an extreme reaction were the tables turned. You might not have approached it the exact same way by picking a random and unrelated fight, but you’re self-aware enough to know that you would’ve been looking for a way to make him pay.

Would that be so bad? It’s a punch to the gut, knowing what he wants and knowing how you can’t give it to him, that if he really thinks about it, he probably doesn’t want it in the long-run either.

The elevator is on the twentieth floor now. You have maybe a minute to decide if you want to swallow your dignity and go back to Taehyung, but it’s too humiliating to even consider. The elevator hits the twenty-third floor when you hear a sound behind you and turn instinctively, feeling your heart skip a beat when you see Taehyung, the door shutting behind him. He spots you just when you see him and his face and shoulders fall in relief.

You immediately roll your eyes and look away, moving to punch the elevator button as many times as you can, ignoring his blurred reflection on the metallic pane, jogging towards you. The elevator is nearing the thirtieth floor when he reaches you and grabs your wrist. Your first instinct is to wrestle it away, deliberately not looking at him, even when he tries to maneuver himself to stand in front of you - anything to get you to look at him.

Finally, he sighs in frustration. “Lara, you were really going to leave without saying goodbye?”

And you snap.

“Seriously?” You whip around, suddenly livid and hurt and relieved all at the same time. “I tried, you jerk! And you fucking ignored me!” You give him a solid push on the shoulders and he stumbles back, but his face relaxes in satisfaction, evidently having gotten the reaction he wanted. “Now you want to care?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, his face smooth and impassive again as he glares down at you. You both must look ridiculous: you in a fancy dress and heels, hair in waves down your back while he’s in a black Celine t-shirt, pajama bottoms and sliders, his long hair falling effortlessly into his eyes as you stand facing each other in a deserted corridor in the executive floor of the Hilton.

He takes a deep breath a couple of times like he’s about to say something but changes his mind at the last second, dropping his gaze to the floor, the corner of his mouth falling before he quickly straightens it. He looks up at you again, slowly, and your heart aches.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur, trying to sound annoyed but you can hear your voice tremble. Taehyung makes no move to acknowledge that he’s heard you, until his gaze drops to your chest and he reaches, slowly, for the ring around your neck.

You aren’t altogether surprised. Charlie’s gaze had moved similarly at the after party, although a bit more brazenly. You’d thought he was openly checking out your breasts and you were a moment away from maybe slapping him, when he’d reached out and hooked his finger around the ring and you’d felt your stomach churn. Your hand had shot up as a reflex, moving to pull the ring out of his grasp but you supposed he thought you were holding his hand and, taking that as a cue, to step forward and kiss you.

You’d pulled away and stepped back in shock and Charlie, to his credit, immediately apologised, looking thoroughly embarrassed. You’d heard the glass shatter and felt someone brush past you, before Yoongi texted you to meet them at the car.

Now, when Taehyung strokes the ring, his ring, his slender fingers brushing your chest, it feels right. This could be the last time he does this for… many months, at least. Maybe a year. The second leg of your Formula One season starts in a week and you’ll have to cover at least ten countries and four continents in three months. Taehyung will return to Korea to promote their single and, if your hunch is right, start recording their next album. It would be a miracle if you get to see each other even once this year after tonight.

“I can’t do this again.” His voice is barely a whisper, deep and low. Panic grips your heart at his words and you feel your vision blur. Everything, Charlie, your fight, his confession - all of that pales in comparison to this. When he looks up at you again, his eyes widen and he immediately shakes his head. “No, I - I didn’t mean -” He breaks off.

You move towards each other at the same time, lips crashing onto each other's in a fit of desperation. He’s grabbing everything he can, just like you are, and his kisses are full of emotion. There’s apology, fear, reassurance, love, jealousy, longing - there’s so much that needs to be talked about but right now, you just want him. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your waist almost painfully, the other hand at the back of your head, tangling your hair while he devours you. You’re clutching at his t-shirt, hands already disappearing under the cloth to feel his skin, feel him as much as you can.

“Don’t go,” he whispers, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw before kissing you again. You pull him closer in response, hand at the back of his neck when you feel his semi against your hip and without thinking, you moan into his mouth. His hand slides down from your waist to your arse, squeezing it and pressing your pelvis to his.

You want him to fuck you. You wanted it before, at the show, and you want it now. You don’t care how; whether it’s on a bed, whether it’s against the wall here, whether he wants to bend you over and pound into you until you come undone, you don’t care. You just need him inside you, his thick, full length, his hands on your body, eliciting sensations only he can. You want him all over you, for tonight and however long after that.

You barely realise when he begins walking you backwards, registering the dimness behind your eyelids only when your back hits a wall. You don’t protest when he hitches the bottom of your dress up slightly, sliding his hand underneath to grab at your naked flesh, groaning when his fingers skim the lace. Of course you wore lace, you think vaguely when he pulls away to nip at your neck; it’s your last night, and he promised he’d fuck you for all of it.

“Tae,” you gasp when you feel the pressure on your neck increase. He’s sucking a hickey into your skin… marking you. It makes your core ache and your nipples hard as rock; you rub your chest against his as much as you can in the tight embrace you’re in; in the absence of a bra, you feel your tips brush against his t-shirt and bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud.

Turning your head slightly, you finally register where you are. Several feet away, you can see the elevators. You seem to be in a smaller, darker corridor off of the main hallway, near what look like linen closets, if you had to guess. You don’t bother telling him that anyone can walk in on you. He knows it, and he probably intends on taking that risk. It makes your core throb, knowing that you’re so desperate for each other that even the prospect of being seen can’t pose a worthwhile reason to stop.

Taehyung comes back up to kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth instantly. His hand kneads at the globe of your arse before landing in a sharp smack. Your gasp of pleasure is swallowed and he moves his hand further down behind you and between your legs, moving your sodden lace underwear aside and sliding two fingers inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he groans tightly, kissing you again when you moan in pleasure. You pull his hips to yours, his rock hard erection rubbing against your thinly-clothed clit. You grind on it, sighing at the friction, thinking heavily that you don’t know how you’re going to survive without it this time.

“More, Tae,” you whimper, feeling along his hard length, “please.”

Taehyung’s hand goes down further and reaches your folds, his fingers ghosting over what you want. You make a sound of impatience and accidentally bite down on his lower lip, anticipating the growl a fraction of a second before it happens. He pulls you closer before turning you around and your hands snap up to the wall automatically, sighing in relief and pleasure when his hand easily reaches your folds and he dips his fingers inside, finding your nub.

You bite down on your lip hard to keep from being too loud but you can’t help but moan anyway when he rubs you, his erection pressing into your arse. It’s different, though; Taehyung’s always been rough, something you both love, but this time despite the familiar strength in his actions, there’s a desperate sort of intimacy in the way he’s pleasuring you. He’s not pinning you to the wall like he’s done before but holding you close, his arm around your waist; he isn’t whispering filth into your ear, instead simply going “I love you, I love you”, so quietly that you aren’t even sure he’s aware of what he’s saying.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes, warm breath on your earlobe coupled with his racing fingers pushing you over the edge. You finish with a gasp, head bent low as you feel him slow down, groaning deep and throaty into your shoulder. He retrieves his hand and you see it glistening as you turn around unsteadily, tugging your dress back down.

Taehyung is angelic. You can't quite grasp that someone that looks like this, with his long hair and dark, loving eyes, searching your face for something, just finger-fucked you in semi-public where anyone from his band members, to their staff or the hotel employees could have simply walked in on you.

He presses his forehead to yours, lips ghosting over yours. “Lara…” His voice is a whisper, wretched and desperate, and your heart twists at how much you love him and how far everything is from ideal. You can’t possibly fathom what he wants to talk about - or you can, but you can’t bring yourself to think about it when you’re more aware than ever at how far apart you’re both going to be tomorrow.

I know he’s not going to end up with me. The truth of it shatters you, even as you stand in his arms, still not fully recovered from the incredible orgasm he’s just given you. But it’s for the best and with a heavy heart, you resign yourself to whatever you can get, how much ever of him you can get tonight.

You kiss him then and he responds immediately and passionately, possibly because you were wrong and he doesn’t know what to say either. “I’m all yours tonight,” you murmur against his lips, “no matter what.”

He doesn’t reply, not when he kisses you deeper, not when he starts walking you backwards to one of the band’s other rooms, tapping his key card against the doorbell and backing you into the room, not separating away from you even once. The moment the door is shut, the clothes start coming off. You’re only presuming there’s no one else in this suite as you start lifting his t-shirt up and feel your dress being tugged down your chest, just about making it into one of the bedrooms before you undo the zipper and feel the dress fall to the ground.

“Oh, my God, Lara…” he breathes when you’re mostly naked before him in the darkness, save for the lace underwear. His hands knead your arse cheeks as he pulls you closer; you know it’s one of his favourite parts of your body and you no longer care about anyone hearing you if they do. You meant what you said: you’re his for the rest of the night. And you’re mine, you think pulling away from him and kneeling to the ground as you tug his pajamas to the floor. In nothing but your underwear and heels, you suck him off while he stands above you.

“Fuck, you’re so filthy, baby,” he gasps, voice low and deep as he gathers your hair in his hand and pulls. He can tell that you’re already taking in as much of him as you can, his tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag occasionally. Knelt before him, your dark eyes looking up as you pleasure him, mascara smudged around your eyes, you look like a vision. You’re naked and his, and as your head bobs faster, he wants to make the best of it for as long as he can.

“Get up,” he says after a few seconds, letting go of your hair and helping you up by the shoulders. You let him go and manage to gulp in a mouthful of air before his lips crash onto yours again, his tongue entering your mouth and his hand holding your head to him. You don’t even realise when he’s backed you onto the bed until your thighs touch it and you stumble back.

Taehyung crawls over you, his lean frame illuminated by nothing but the partial moonlight through the large windows, and you know what he wants - and that he wants to do it himself. Flipping you onto your stomach, he grabs at your arse again, groaning as he presses a kiss to the spot just above your underwear. You gasp when he spanks you, even though you were expecting it, and after two more hard smacks that have your skin stinging and your pussy soaking wet again, he peels off the scrap of lace, exposing you to him completely. You get onto your hands and knees, naked but for your heels that you’re sure is a deliberate move on his part.

“Good girl,” he mutters, landing a softer spank on your arse before pulling the cheeks apart to view your pussy. “You dirty little slut, Lara,” he breathes, running the tip of one finger across your folds. You whimper in response, shutting your eyes tightly as he teases you, taking his time with you. When you finally feel his mouth on you, it takes every ounce of strength you have to not fall, staying on all fours as he explores every inch of your folds with his tongue, groaning as he eats you out so the vibrations reach all the way up to your abdomen. He stops just before you cum, leaving you a hot, writhing mess as he steps away momentarily.

“I’m on the pill,” you gasp, unwilling to let him go until he’s fully done with you. “Just - we don’t need a condom.” You’re fairly certain he hasn’t slept with anyone else since your date less than a week ago and there’s nothing quite as incredible as feeling Taehyung inside you, raw and naked, nothing separating you both.

Taehyung echoes your thoughts when he enters you without protest, groaning as he stretches you out. “You’re so - fucking - tight,” he grunts, fingers firm on your hips, enough to leave bruises. He feels so incredible; his voice, his touch, and his passion above all, to render you incapable of doubting how much he wants you.

For once, you can’t give a fuck about the others in the hotel hearing you, if there’s anyone else there. Taehyung clearly doesn’t either; his grunts and groans are louder than you’ve ever heard them and when you’re finally nearing another orgasm, you know there’s no coming back from this.

You’re still on your knees, now positioned sideways by him on the bed so you can see both your silhouettes in the walled mirror while Taehyung has both your wrists in one hand, your back arching while he thrusts into you. His other hand moves from your breast to your clit, which already feels sore and overstimulated, rubbing it faster and faster until you’re begging for him to let you finally ride out your high. He lets your wrists go and you fall forward, balancing on your hands for support as you catch your breath. He grabs your hips, increasing his rhythm, the sound of flesh slapping together being the only sound you can hear over his grunts until he chokes out “Lara”, pulling out at the last moment. You know what he wants; you fall onto the bed and onto your back, and he comes on your neck and face, his hand pumping his cock and slowing down as he finishes, eyes closed.

You couldn’t move if you wanted to. Taehyung lowers his head and kisses you, an open-mouthed kiss tasting partially of you, before he climbs off. Your eyes flutter shut of their own accord and don’t open, not when you feel the cool washcloth clean your face, not when you feel him take off your heels, not until you hear the shower start and feel his hand pick yours up and tug gently. He leads you to the bathroom; your limbs hurt but you know it’s nothing compared to what it will feel like tomorrow.

You both stand under the shower, your head tilted up while Taehyung stands behind you. The hot water actually feels good; you can feel the make-up leaving your face and the careful waves you’d styled your hair in disappear. You feel the sponge on your shoulder and a soap sud trickle down to your collarbones and down your cleavage. He soaps your entire body, hands gentle and loving, kissing your wet skin occasionally. Finally, when you’re both done, you turn around towards him.

Wet hair clinging artfully to his neck and forehead, he observes you, brushing his knuckles across your cheekbone, eyes full of longing, like he’s memorising your face. You know, because you’re doing the same. You take a small step closer and, hesitating for a moment, wrap your arms around his waist and rest your forehead against his shoulder. He hugs you back, and you feel the familiar, horrible lump in your throat.

You hate this. After spending this much time with each other, it feels monstrously cruel to have to separate again. You act like a couple. Jimin had said that just a few days ago, but it feels like much longer than that. You don’t want to cry, though; if you do, there’s no telling if you’ll stop any time soon. You definitely don’t want Taehyung to see you cry. But the exhaustion eventually takes over and you take a shaky breath, hoping he hasn’t heard it over the running water.

You feel his lips brush the side of your head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice filled with regret and a little shock, as though he hadn’t expected your fight to get so out of hand. You shake your head immediately, wanting him to stop. You don’t care about that right now; you just want to ask him, desperately, to come with you or move to London or to take you on tour with him…

You stand there until the water starts to get cold; you flinch and pull away, stepping out from under the jet of the shower while Taehyung brings you both towels. He pulls on a pair of boxers and climbs into bed while you dry your hair, running the wet towel through the long locks, sighing when you realise how messy your hair is sure to be tomorrow. At the last minute, you throw on the black t-shirt he was wearing earlier over your underwear. He doesn’t say anything, just smirks slightly at the sight and settles back with his hands behind his head.

“I need to dry my hair,” you decide, abandoning the towel and heading back into the bathroom. You turn it on, the warm air and low hum of the blowdryer feeling strangely calming in light of everything that’s happened today. Inside, you hear music and smell the incongruous scent of something fruity, like green apple. Frowning, you turn off the dryer and run your hand through your mostly-dry hair once more before turning off the light and going back into the darker room where a Nat King Cole song plays on a speaker on the bedside table, and Taehyung lies exactly where you left him, a small cylindrical object in his hand and silvery smoke spiralling out of his mouth.

You join him on the bed, lying partially on your stomach, and reach for the vape in his hand. “Green apple?” you ask, sniffing at it.

He nods, adjusting his arm so you can be more comfortable. “Do you have cigarettes, though?”

“No, I’ve switched to vaping, actually,” you confess, a little guiltily. “I still don’t do it often, but it’s easier to hide from… well, everyone.”

Taehyung nods in understanding. “Probably not a good idea to smoke inside a hotel room anyway,” he agrees, humming softly to the song and pulling you a bit closer as you take a puff. You smoke in silence for a bit, passing the vape between each other, your head resting on his bare chest.

“I love this song,” you murmur absently after a while, closing your eyes at Miles Davis’s familiar voice. You feel Taehyung stroke your hair.

“I was just going to say that.” His voice is soft, disappearing into the silence for a moment before you feel him shift underneath you. You sit up, frowning as he slides off the bed and runs a hand through his messy hair, dark locks falling effortlessly into his eyes. He tosses them away and holds out a hand, swaying slightly to the music on the spot.

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s asking. “You’re so cheesy,” you mutter teasingly, crawling off the bed towards him anyway and hopping off to walk into his arms. He takes your right hand in his left and holds it close to his shoulder, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. In nothing but his t-shirt and your lace underwear, you dance with Taehyung in the middle of his dark hotel room.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, suddenly exhausted after a long, long day. It’s strange to think that just a couple of hours ago, you were convinced that you and Taehyung were more or less over. Right now, that seems inconceivable. Dropping his hand, you get onto the tips of your toes and hug him, continuing to sway with him.

“I love you so much, Tae,” you whisper into his skin. By the way his arms wrap around your waist tightly, you know he’s heard you.

“I love you, too,” he says after a moment, voice heavy with emotion. He drops his head onto your shoulder, back hunched. “You’re really small for someone so strong,” he mutters, holding you closer.

“Shut up. I’m five two.”

Taehyung snorts, laughing into your hair. “You are not five two.”

You nudge him playfully but don’t pull away, feeling a bit lighter as the song draws to a close and the next one begins. The guitar chords are more than familiar; you’d know this song anywhere. “Since when do you listen to rock?” you ask, curious.

“It’s the unplugged version,” he reasons, pulling away to twirl you back into his arms. “And you love this song. You got me on my knees, Layla…”

You close your eyes in pleasure as he sings into your neck, his deep voice reverberating through you and his warm breath making you suddenly aware of the only layer of cloth separating your naked bodies. “This is such a sexy song,” you sigh, humming along to it. Taehyung lifts his head slowly, taking his time pressing soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, the side of your head, until he straightens up and captures your lips in his.

It’s slow, lazy, sensual snogging; it reminds you of the night you first met, right after your first ever BTS concert on the rooftop of their hotel in Tokyo. Even then, knowing next to nothing about him apart from whatever was public, he felt like what had been missing all along. He’d said as much to you later that weekend, too, before the first time you separated. He’d kissed you with only a moment’s hesitation, your response eager and passionate, and the result had been fireworks.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks against your mouth, nipping softly at your lower lip. His hand slides down from your waist to stop just above your arse, fingers resting lightly on your curves.

You nod, kissing him again. “For now. We’ll see tomorrow.”

He chuckles low and deep before picking you up without warning, hooking a hand around your thigh so you wrap your legs around his waist, with a squeal of surprise. Taking a few steps forward, he places a knee on the bed and you both land on the soft covers, Taehyung comfortably on top of you as you continue making out. It’s clear you’re both getting tired, though, so after a while he switches off the music and begins scrolling through his phone.

You’re both laughing through a compilation video on YouTube when you start to fall asleep, tucked into his side with your head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. Just before sleep takes you over completely, you faintly register the video being turned off and Taehyung shifting a bit as he gets comfortable. Then, at the last moment, you feel his lips at your hair.

“I meant what I said, Lara.”

You’re too far gone to respond, but you know you’ve heard it. You wish you hadn’t.

—

The next morning, you try your hardest not to open your eyes, even after you’re awake. You turn around with difficulty, Taehyung’s grip like a koala’s, and try to take in as much of him as you can. You know you both have a tendency to be dramatic, that you have the fortune of being famous and can therefore see and hear a lot more about each other than most people, that you can call and text and video chat as much as possible. But this… you smile involuntarily when he frowns in his sleep, pulling you even closer.

“Tae tae,” you whisper, holding his face and running a thumb along his perfect cheekbones. “Wake up,” you say in Korean.

Eyes still closed, he smiles and replies sleepily in Korean, kissing your forehead.

You nestle into his neck, kissing his collarbone. “My Korean isn’t nearly good enough to understand that, baby.”

“I said you should speak more in Korean,” he explains, linking your fingers with his and kissing your knuckles.

“I’ll pass along your instructions to Chris.”

Taehyung frowns. “I wanted to teach you,” he says with a pout.

You chuckle. “Nah, it’s too intimidating from a native speaker. Chris is the right amount of anglicised to not laugh at me if I get something wrong.”

“I won’t laugh at you,” he says defensively, sounding hurt.

You give him a look. “Really? Remember when you overheard me singing Mommae?”

He snorts, falling on his back and laughing, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. You smack his shoulder, cheeks burning. “See?”

“Fine, fine,” he chortles, turning back to you and kissing you full on the mouth. “You can learn from Chris. Speaking of friends, is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Shit,” you mutter, suddenly remembering and reaching for your phone, texting the group you’re staying with. “Okay, Charles is coming in a bit,” you tell him after a few minutes. “He’s the least hungover of all the guys so it makes sense.”

Taehyung pulls you to him again and you sigh in contentment, wrapping your arm around his waist. “How many guys?” he asks after a moment, sounding nonchalant.

You think about this answer, having an inkling where this is coming from. “How many guys did I come to LA with? Um… Danny, Charles, Michael, Blake. And Charles’s girlfriend,” you add. You feel him nod slowly.

“And when you go back? First race is… Belgium, right?”

“Yeah, Spa-Francorchamps,” you reply, pulling away and stretching. “Beautiful track. Racing in Spa is just… well, dangerous but also…” You sigh, realising just now how much you’ve missed racing these past weeks. “It’s always good to be back,” you finish eventually before frowning. “Wait, what was your question?”

Taehyung’s watching you with a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Just… wanted to know who you’d be going back with. Lexie, Chris…” He doesn’t say more, simply raising his eyebrows, doing a great job of looking like he doesn’t care but his tone giving everything away anyway.

“Nineteen other male drivers, about eighty pit crew members, a bunch of race engineers and strategists and a few people from management.” You give him a look. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach up to kiss him again, hoping to avoid any further conversation that could possibly stem from Taehyung’s jealousy. It’s not a surprise to you; if he were in a job where he almost exclusively hung out with a hundred incredibly fit women all year long, you'd have your moments of doubt, too. But gazing at his handsome face as he pulls away momentarily to crawl on top of you, you don’t know how he thinks you could ever look at another man again.

After a few more minutes of lazy snogging and giggling, you have no choice but to get up. The moment you swing your legs out of bed and stand, you stumble and lose your balance, catching the corner of the dresser for support.

“Ugh, you and your giant dick, Taehyung,” you groan, pushing yourself up as he rushes to help you.

“My giant dick and I apologise,” he says sombrely, walking you to the bathroom where you shake him off you and enter. He watches you while you get dressed, a nostalgic, sad sort of smile on his face. When you move to return his t-shirt, he shakes his head. “Keep it,” he says.

You pause. “But you love this t-shirt,” you say, even though you’d love to keep one of his signature outfits with you.

“And I love you. And I have others,” he adds, grinning when you roll your eyes and look away, trying to not smile at his cheesy response.

“Well, it should help cover up my dress at least,” you reason, pulling it on over the strapless number you’d worn last night and Taehyung had pulled off later. “I don’t think I want to do the walk of shame down Hollywood Boulevard.” You look down at the t-shirt, reaching mid-thigh and leaving only a strip of the dress in view. “Kind of works, right?”

Taehyung grins. “Is that Nanette Lepore?”

“Stella McCartney. My favourite.” You turn to observe yourself in the mirror, shrugging in uncertainty at the best you’re going to get with a dress, a t-shirt and the heels he’d fucked you in last night. “God, Lexie’s going to put me on a diet the moment I land in London,” you mutter.

Taehyung frowns. “You have a lower body fat percentage than Jungkook. Probably.”

“I need to be light enough for the car,” you tell him, knowing Lexie would never do anything that compromised your health. “In June, we partied so much during Danny’s birthday that before the race in Austria, I ate only carrots and hummus for lunch. And then came in P3,” you add nonchalantly, noting how Taehyung grins proudly on the bed.

“You looked beautiful last night, by the way,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s referring to the party or after that, but you’ll take it. Wincing with every step, you finally deem yourself somewhat presentable for the car ride back to Daniel’s house. Taehyung purses his lips and tries his hardest to suppress a smile, looking partly apologetic and partly proud at the state you’re in.

When you’re finally ready to leave, he climbs out of bed and walks over to you, nothing but his boxers on and looking like a Calvin Klein advert’s wet dream. He stops before you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“No crying, okay?” You warn him, gaze dropping to his chest. “If you cry, I’ll cry.”

Swallowing, he nods. “I don’t like it when you cry,” he states, bringing your face in for a soft, sweet kiss. You smile into it, vowing to yourself that this won’t be the last time you spend time together like this. A passionate embrace and a few whispered words later, you head out of the room. Taehyung follows you out with his pajamas on, unabashedly shirtless, running a hand through his long hair.

Apparently, you’re not even trying to be subtle anymore; when you almost get a heart attack at the sight of three other members in the suite kitchen, all he does is wrap his arms around your waist from behind, dropping his head on your shoulder. You notice Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin glance at you briefly before looking away, smiling awkwardly in what you think is partly embarrassment but partly relief after the rather public argument you had last night.

“Toast, Dilara?” Seokjin asks, sliding a plate with a stack of toasted bread on it towards you. You consider it for a moment before shaking your head, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“Thanks, but… my ride’s here.” You can hear how small your voice is and feel Taehyung stiffen behind you. Turning to him, you bite your lip. “I should…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, though. “Do you want to come downstairs?” you blurt out instead. You expect him to say no, of course, so when he nods almost immediately, your eyes widen. “No, I didn’t - you’ll be seen if you’re -”

“I’ll be careful,” he interrupts you, looking up at Namjoon almost defiantly. To your growing surprise, the leader says nothing either and simply points to Taehyung’s bare chest with his butter knife.

“You might want to put on a t-shirt, though.”

Seokjin tosses him a hoodie and Taehyung manages to procure a beanie from somewhere, adjusting it on his head before wordlessly taking your hand. You murmur your goodbyes to the other guys, running into Yoongi when you head out the door.

“I’m glad I slept in the other suite, I guess,” is all he says, seeming dazed and sleepy, giving you a pat on the shoulder as you and Taehyung leave.

Downstairs, you immediately sidle off to a corner of the lobby so he won’t be spotted but it seems pointless, for the floor is relatively empty. The sun streams in through the tinted glass, illuminating his face and making him look like an angel in a beanie. A faint ping draws your attention to your phone to see a message from Charles. Took a wrong turn somewhere. Be there in one minute.

Your heart races uncomfortably as you turn to Taheyung. “I had a great few days with you,” you tell him, realising how inadequate the words are.

Taehyung doesn’t look like he’s even heard you. His eyes are fixed on your face, but it seems like only a small part of him is even focused on you. His jaw shifts and he swallows, as though deciding something. He raises his hand and brushes your bangs off your face.

“I’m going to marry you,” he says. His lips tilt upwards very slightly, as though saying it out loud has convinced him of it. He doesn’t sound dreamy or wistful; more like he’s finally decided to let you in on a plan.

For a moment, your chest feels tight. The look on his face tells you he’s not being dramatic, but you know where you’re headed. If last night had a silver lining, it was finally realising where you both stand. But you don’t say anything, not wanting to part on a sad note.

Taehyung glances briefly at something behind you. “Your car is here, I think,” he says calmly, moving his hand to hold your face gently. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he steps back. “Fly safe, okay? Text me when you land?”

Goodbye, Tae. You nod as the familiar blue sports car stops outside the hotel, taking a step backwards towards the revolving doors and giving him a once over, more in love than ever with the world’s most handsome man. With tousled hair under the beanie, the pale pink hoodie and pajamas, he smiles at you in resignation and reassurance.

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