#whenever a fic brings it up I’m immediately smiling like yea it sucks

[lapseinart]

I just think this is very funny

[hongism]

two hearts connected - kth (smut)

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader (side Hoseok x reader)

AU: music producer!reader, trainee!taehyung, hanahaki au

type of fic: oneshot

genre: nsfw, 18+, smut, angst

word count: 11.8k

Summary: You said it always made you feel loved and happy and adored and wanted. Then you turned around and said that it still wasn’t enough. He just wants to be enough for someone, and it has to be you.

or

in which, taehyung is a hopeful trainee, you’re a music producer, and hoseok works at a coffee shop.

Warnings: unprotec secc, angst angst angst, reader has Issues:tm:, ambiguous ending, misunderstood soulmates, spanking, choking, oral sex: both, finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk and degradation, verbal arguments, pining, very unhealthy relationships, blood, sex addiction, talking with therapists

for the FicsWithLuv Luv Library Project~

...

"Got plans tonight?"

You glance up at the man who posed the question, eyes wide from the sudden intrusion of your privacy. Taehyung leans against the door with arms crossed over his chest. A small smile plays at his lips, a slight quirk to his grin, and you know that you're supposed to smile in return but you simply can't bring yourself to. You push your chair back, rolling away from your desk to get a better look at Taehyung.

"I have a lot of work to catch up on," you say with a small sigh.

"That's never stopped us before." Taehyung has a point; in fact, it's never stopped the two of you from getting up to trouble in this very studio or in the dance studio down the hall.

"Sorry, Tae. It's really too much work tonight. There's apparently new plans about the concept of the group...and I'm supposed to work on a debut track for the group." Taehyung's head falls to the side, eyes narrowing at the news.

"A new concept? I thought they were happy with what was chosen?"

"Eh, change in management plans. There's always room for improvement according to the big bosses." You turn back to your computer, glancing over the mess of overlapping tracks and sounds on your screen. A second later, a pair of hands finds your shoulders and begins to rub small circles against the bit of exposed skin near your hoodie. Well - Taehyung's hoodie to be specific, but the details aren't important. The moment his fingers find the tight muscles near your neck, you all but melt under him.

"You're so tense, Y/N..." Taehyung mutters. It's with a surprising gentleness that he touches you, one you aren't used to in your usual encounters and it almost scares you. Still, you lean back into the touch, letting his hands run over your shoulders and massage out the kinks in your neck. Then your phone buzzes, rattling against the desk and shaking you both out of the odd silence that lingers. "Who is it?" You ignore the question as you pull your phone to your body, shielding the screen from Taehyung's sight.

Can I drop by the studio tonight? I have food!!

"Just Hoseok," you answer after a moment. You type out a hasty response before dropping your phone to your lap. Taehyung's hands retract immediately.

"Oh."

You spin in your chair, nearly knocking his chin with the back, and face him. Eyes blank and empty, he looks down at you. You reach out slowly, grip the collar of his shirt, and tug him down so that he's eye level with you.

"I changed my mind," you whisper. Eyes on his lips, you lean closer. Taehyung smirks down at you. The blank hurt on his features disappears as he meets you halfway, plush lips hitting yours with a significant amount of force. You melt under him and tug him closer by the collar. He moans into your mouth, a sound that sends heat straight to your core. "I want you to bend me over the keyboard, Tae."

Taehyung's hands find your hips at that, and he tugs you up. You help him out by wrapping your legs around his waist and latch onto him before he pulls you off the chair. Your phone falls to the ground, forgotten and unneeded.

"I want you against the wall first," he hisses against your mouth. He picks you up with ease, as though you don't weigh a thing, and he pushes you to the wall. You gasp at the force. Your head snaps back and hits the wall. Taehyung's lips leave yours and begin to travel down the edge of your jaw, mouthing at your skin. He nips under your jaw.

"Don't leave marks, Tae," you murmur, but the sensation of his teeth on your skin distracts you far too much. "Ta-Taehyung--" You're cut off by a particularly harsh nip. In the background, you hear the buzz of your phone. His hands are travelling down between your legs before you can think about what Hoseok might've responded with.

"You're not wearing any underwear? How dirty, Y/N." You keep hearing your phone go off - no doubt Hoseok is attempting to call you now - but Taehyung won't let up on his touches and kisses. Honestly, the sound of the phone is distracting you from the pleasure you would normally be feeling in this position. "I bet you were hoping I'd come fuck you, weren't you?"

"When are we going to stop this?" You ask between sighs. Taehyung doesn't provide an answer right away, lips lingering at the juncture of your neck for a moment. He pulls off after leaving you with a harsh suck to the skin there. Eyes find yours, and you can't quite read the emotion in them. He shrugs.

"Probably once I debut. Doesn't really matter, does it?"

You sigh.

"Yea, I guess it doesn't."

Of course it doesn't. Why would it? For Taehyung, you're just a toy he gets to play with whenever he wants.

He pauses, lips hesitating on your neck, and you feel him sigh against your skin. "Well that certainly killed the mood, didn't it?" He pulls away, and the two of you make eye contact a moment later.

"My phone is ringing," you say, tone monotonous and dull as you look at him. Taehyung wordlessly lets you drop to the ground. You move around him to retrieve your phone, no longer in the mood to talk or fuck for that matter. "Hello?" You cut the ringing off with your voice.

"Y/N! You didn't answer my text. Are you busy? I can head over anytime!" Hoseok's voice is bright and clear. You laugh at his enthusiasm, thinking of his precious eye smile, but the smile on your lips is quickly replaced by a sharp pain in your chest.

"Y-Yea, you can co-come over now. I'm not b-busy." The words are hard to get out, the pain keeps you from speaking without a stutter, and you're sure that Taehyung can see your struggle.

"Oh great! I'll be over soon, I just need to get on the bus real quick!" Hoseok hangs up after that, not offering anymore words, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Taehyung lingers at your side.

"Hanging out with him is better than fucking?" He asks. His breath is hot on your neck as he leans over you. Lips ghost your skin and press soft kisses to the exposed area. It doesn't stay soft long, quickly falling into nips and tugs at your neck, and you have to pull away from him before you fall back into the sweet addiction that is Kim Taehyung.

"You should go, Tae. Hoseok will be here any minute. I know the two of you don't really get along all too well." It's not meant to be backhanded or an attack; merely facts. The first time your best friend met your uh, fuck buddy, he was less than thrilled. Even more so after he found out that you work with Taehyung, which led into a long lecture about how he would never sleep with any of his coworkers because it's unprofessional and causes problems left and right. You had to remind Hoseok that he worked at a damn coffee shop and not some high class firm where it really would cause issues.

Taehyung pulls away, but not without giving a particularly hard suck to the juncture of your neck that brings a wanton moan out of you. Your hand flies to cover your lips. A wave of embarrassment washes over you even though Taehyung has heard that exact sound time and time again.

"Let's see how much you think of me while he's here then, princess." The palm of Taehyung's hand comes down against the curve of your ass, and you gasp at the contact. A burning sting blossoms across your skin. You have to bite your lip to keep the moan from slipping out. Taehyung surely knows what effect he has on you and the power he holds over you. "Maybe he'll know exactly what's on your mind the whole time." Taehyung slips away from you with that comment, turning on his heel, and you don't turn around to see him walk out the door. Instead you wait for the quiet click of the door opening and closing, then release the breath you've been holding since he spanked you. Your ass still stings from the contact, a reminder of his touch, and you know that's what he intended.

It takes quite a bit of effort on your part to sit down and get back to work, what with Taehyung on your mind. Part of you regrets telling Hoseok to come over because you know that otherwise, Taehyung would be buried inside you by now. You bring a hand to your neck. There's surely a mark there; Taehyung was a bit too rough even though you told him not to leave marks. The skin is sensitive to the touch. You know it's going to be there awhile, a constant reminder of Taehyung's presence in your life, no matter how much you don't like it. Hoseok will be disappointed. Hoseok won't be happy with me.

"It's always about Hoseok for you, isn't it?" Taehyung had asked you that question a long time ago, somewhat early on in your arrangement. He wasn't wrong, and his words definitely still ring true for you now.

Of course it's always about him. It's been that way for as long as you can remember. He's been your best friend for how long? 10 years?

That sharp pain returns to your chest. You slump further down in your chair, turning the volume on your computer up as though it will help drown out the pain.

It's always about him. Never about me.

...

"Are you listening? Y/N, I've been talking to you for the past five minutes but you stopped responding." Hoseok waves his hand in front of your face. You shake your head, pulling your attention off the window to your left and back to your best friend who sits across from you. An expression of concern paints his features.

"Yea, sorry. Was thinking about work for a second."

"Listen, Y/N, you come here to forget work, not think about it constantly. Besides, I'm on my break right now. I don't want either of us to be thinking about work now of all times." Hoseok purses his lips, and you frown at the pout.

"No yea, I'm sorry. Just... thinking too hard. Repeat what you said? I'll make sure to listen this time."

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" The question catches you off guard.

"What?"

"Are you sure you're okay? Is work really that bad? What's going on? You've been like this for a few weeks now." You fidget in your seat. Hoseok has a point, but you don't really want to acknowledge it because everything is fine and you can't worry him. "Y/N?" He's onto you now, you've been quiet for too long, and he's bound to know that you're holding something back after 10 years of friendship. "Listen, I know you hate it when I bring him up, but does it have to do with Taeh—"

"It's nothing. Not him. Don't worry about it, Hobi. I promise I'm fine."

"You haven't been fine since the last time I came to visit you at the studio."

Yea, of course he would mention that night of all nights. Maybe it's mere coincidence that you haven't seen Taehyung since that night too, or maybe it's that not fucking him for three and a half weeks really is having that bad of an effect on you. It can't be that. Sure you're sexually frustrated and sex is the only stress relief that works for you, but it's not like you actually miss Taehyung. Your hand instinctively moves for your neck and hovers over the place where Taehyung left a mark weeks ago. Hoseok follows your movements with his eyes. He knows.

"How long has it been?"

"W-What?" You stutter through the simple question.

"How long since you last fucked?"

"Excuse me, that's quite an invasive question and I'm not sure I want to be telling you things like that, like I know we're best friends but come on Hoseok that's on another level of pri—"

"Answer the damn question. When did you last see him?"

You sigh. You know you're trapped, he's got you stuck with the question, and you can't avoid it any longer. Still, you really wish you could. Hoseok doesn't know that Taehyung was there minutes before he came to your studio; he saw the hickey and assumed that it had been from a previous visit without looking too hard at the mark.

"A few weeks."

"A few weeks? As in two or more?"

"Three and a half," you spit. You know Hoseok won't quit asking until he gets concrete details, so you're going to just save yourself the trouble and get straight to the point. "The night you came to visit me in the studio. Happy?" Hoseok looks taken aback at your words and the venom behind them. A few strands of his chestnut brown hair fall across his forehead as he shakes his head. You expect shock — in fact, part of you wanted to see shock — and yet he just looks blank. Disappointed. Disappointed.

"Do you want me to be happy?" He asks after a moment. It hurts, seeing him so disappointed because of something you did and it hurts, knowing that your relationship with Taehyung is destroying the best relationship you have. Something else hurts, deep down, something you don't want to think about or confront or even acknowledge in the slightest.

"Of course I want you to be happy," you say under your breath. You know it's not a serious question, or one that Hoseok is expecting an answer from at all but you still answer honestly nonetheless.

"You know nothing about your arrangement with him makes me happy, Y/N. Yet you still continue to go through with it, so what am I supposed to say? Tell you no? I've already tried that time and time again. You never listen, so what's the point?" Hoseok shakes his head. He turns his face away from you, looking out the window of the cafe instead of at you, and you frown at his lack of emotion.

"I can stop it if that's what you really want..."

"You would never be able to. You're too dependent on using him when you're stressed. Don't make empty promises. I've already accepted the fact that he's the most important thing in your life - at least the sex is." Hoseok grips the coffee cup before him, knuckles white from the tight hold he has on it.

Pain blossoms in your chest.

He looks at the table. You look at his hands.

"You need help, Y/N. I can't do anything for you."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"I'm fine." Hoseok's head snaps up. He looks you in the eye, the gleam in his eye so sharp and intense that it stops you in your tracks.

"I got the name of a therapist. She specializes in sex addiction. Just give her one call for me? Please?" You can't say no to him. You never could.

"Okay. If it makes you happy, then I'll do it."

"I just want you to be okay, Y/N. It's not about my happiness, it's about your well-being." He leans back, hand going for his pocket, and pulls out his phone. "I'll text you the number. Please just try to call or see her within the next few days. Before you see Taehyung next." You try to ignore the pointed glare Hoseok sends your way.

"Yea, I can manage that." You nod along with the words, but in the back of your mind, you're already thinking about the next phone call you're going to make to Taehyung. Your phone dings as Hoseok sends the message. You don't bother to check the screen, already knowing the contents of his message, and part of you doesn't want to face the reality of the message. Because there's not a problem. There never has been. There never will be. Fuck, you really need to see Taehyung again soon. Your hand twitches at the thought of calling him.

"Thank you, Y/N. I wish it hadn't come to this, but it is what it is."

You don't look at him. There's always been something so... yellow about Hoseok, something bright and shining and gleaming even in the dark. He's always been this light in the darkness for you. Your light. Yours. Except he's not. He's never been yours, and you know he never will be, especially with this damn relationship you have with Taehyung. Everything is yellow with Hoseok. Makes you feel warm, safe, at home. But right now? Everything feels so very cold instead. Your chest hurts again. Hoseok keeps looking at you with those piercing eyes, and you've never felt more out of place in your life. Why does it hurt so much?

It's always about him. It has to be.

...

"F-Fuck, Tae. Fuck!" You arch your back off the bed as Taehyung's tongue curls inside of you, and a loud moan tears through your lips after another cuss hits the air. Taehyung laughs against your folds. The sound reverberates through you, and you can't stop your body from quivering from the impact. Taehyung braces you with his large hands, palms spread across your thighs and pressing them further apart to keep you from moving more.

"Sit still, princess. I have more work to do," he mutters as he pulls back, only to lean forward again and press a kiss to your clit that has you jolting. He sits up, caging his arms around your waist, then presses his lips to your ear. You can feel the wetness on his lips, the evidence of your arousal on him, the burning heat of shame filling your gut. "So pretty and needy, Y/N. Such a slut for me, yea? Do you want me to fill you up? Fill you with my cum? Fuck it into you over and over until my cum is dripping out of you?"

You moan as you dip your head, chin hitting the crook of his neck, and you bury your face against his skin to hit your embarrassment. Taehyung's hand slides down, fingers tracing your stomach before finding your core, then he presses two fingers into you. You gasp at the stretch. His fingers begin to scissor inside you, and you writhe under him, the grasp he has on you being the only thing to keep you grounded.

"Don't act so innocent, slut. We both know how needy and slutty you really are. My dirty little slut. Lets me fuck her and bend her over in her studio. Moans nice and loud for me. Takes my cock so well like a true slut." He pulls his fingers out of your slick heat only to bring them to your lips. "Suck, slut."

You whine but obey, taking his fingers between your lips and licking them clean for Taehyung. You taste yourself on him, a salty sweet taste that now coats the whole interior of your mouth. Taehyung fucks his fingers into your mouth. He chuckles as his fingers hit the back of your throat and you gag around him, a stray line of drool slipping out the corner of your mouth. He pulls his fingers out, wipes them across your cheeks, then slides his hand down to your throat.

"I'm gonna fuck you like the filthy whore you are," he growls against the shell of your ear. Squeezing your throat gently, Taehyung sits back and jerks his dick a few times. "I bet you're so wet that I won't need any lube. Fuck, I wanna fuck you raw, feel your tight little cunt clenching around me so nice."

"Please, fuck me, Ta-Taehyung, please please I need you to fuck me. Ruin me. God, just fuck me senseless please." Taehyung squeezes your neck harder at that, and you feel the breaths getting harder and harder to take.

"Shut up, slut. I didn't give you permission to talk, did I?" Instead of using your words, you shake your head furiously. "Good girl," Taehyung mutters. He guides his cock to your waiting heat and toys with your folds a few times, teasing and prodding your entrance with the head until you're squirming for more friction. "So disgustingly needy." With that, Taehyung pushes forward, bottoming out in one deep thrust that brings a loud whine through you. His hand falls away from your throat and finds the mattress beside your head instead. He gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch of his cock, chest heaving as he waits, and his stare never leaves your face.

It's the same routine you always go through: unabashed roughness turned into patience and waiting for you to get comfortable before fucking you with reckless abandon. It's the same old song and dance, the same routine and pattern, the thing you're used to and expect. Maybe it's showing on your face, because Taehyung doesn't move yet.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?" You ask, patience running thin all the sudden. "You're not here to question your whole existence. You're here to fuck the stress out of me, no?"

"I'll fuck you when you quit thinking about work and Hoseok, how about that?" Taehyung sneers in response.

"That's why you're supposed to fuck me, Tae," you counter, bringing a hand up to jab at his chest. Taehyung jerks back as you hit him even though you didn't hit him with much force. You wrap your arms around his neck and link your fingers to tug him down to you. Your lips smash together with a bruising force. "Now you're the one thinking too hard."

You lick at Taehyung's lips, begging entrance, and he allows it. Your tongue slips between his lips and intertwines with his. He tastes metallic somehow, a taste that's familiar yet you can't quite put your finger on it. He pushes back before you can keep thinking about it though. When he pulls back, his breath fans over your face and an unexpected scent coats your nose. His breath smells good, too good, inexplicably good, and you nearly comment on it. He doesn't give you a chance to, however, because he snaps his hips back against yours. The thrust sends your mind reeling and pushes any thoughts of the scent to the back of your mind. Taehyung's hands quickly shift from the bed to your hips and grip them tight. You're certain that he's going to leave bruises across your skin, but you honestly can't bring yourself to care all too much since his cock is curving against your sweet spot so well. Frankly, you can't even think straight to begin with.

"Fuck, Y/N, how are you still so tight? I've fucked you so many times, and your dirty cunt is still so tight for me." Taehyung slides back into you, and you clench around him, his cock straining against your velvet walls. Your mouth falls open, whines coming out without cease now, and you press your wrist against the opening of your mouth to block the noises. Taehyung doesn't allow it for long though. Still thrusting into you with a bruising pace, he yanks your arm away from your face. "I wanna hear you. Don't you dare cover your mouth." You nod, unable to get any coherent words out. Taehyung mutters a quiet praise and returns to fucking you with all his attention now on his thrusts, hand still pinning yours to the bed.

The angle at which he's fucking you is too good, and you can feel your pleasure beginning to peak. It's only a matter of time before you reach your high. Based on the stutters of Taehyung's hips as he thrusts into you, he's getting close as well.

"Can I cum in you?" He asks, even though he should know the answer by now.

"N-No, Tae — holy shit — you can't," you hiss out between broken moans. You bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing small circles against the sensitive bud to help you reach your climax faster, and Taehyung groans at the sight. "F-Fuck fuck fuck Taehyung, fuck!" He gives one last harsh thrust before you orgasm. You're still riding out your high, hand working the same small circles against your clit, when Taehyung pulls out and grips the base of his cock. Warmth hits your hand and stomach. You look down to see the evidence of his orgasm painting your skin.

"I'll get a rag." Taehyung says nothing else and climbs off the bed to head for your bathroom. Chest heaving, you sigh and try to catch your breath as you stare at the ceiling. The disgust is quickly creeping in - the self loathing, the stress, the fucking disgust - and you nearly wipe the back of your hand on the bed to get his cum off of you. Taehyung is taking too long in the bathroom. It shouldn't take this long to get a washcloth. You don't have the strength to pull yourself off the bed though, so you keep laying there, head against the pillow with sweat making your neck feel sticky and hot. There are no sounds of the cabinets opening or the water running coming from the bathroom. You expect to hear the toilet flush at least, but after staring at the ceiling for what feels like ten minutes, you still hear nothing.

"What the hell are you doing in there, Kim Taehyung?" You mutter the question to yourself, not nearly loud enough for him to hear you. Finally, you decide enough is enough. Pulling yourself off the bed, you pad over to the bathroom with quiet steps. It's not a far walk but once you get closer, you can hear noises coming from the room at last. Coughs. Quiet coughs, as though Taehyung is trying to conceal the noise. Is he sick? He never mentioned feeling under the weather... and I didn't notice any symptoms of him being sick. The toilet flushes. It jolts you out of your thoughts. You feel out of place all the sudden, like you're intruding on some weird private time that Taehyung is having. The sink begins to run a moment later. You rush back to the bed, hurrying to climb back on and resume your previous position before Taehyung left.

"Sorry, I wanted to wash a bit of the sweat off," Taehyung announces as he steps back into the bedroom. You don't spare him a second glance. A wet washcloth hits your abdomen, and you wordlessly begin to wipe away the drying cum on your skin. Neither of you speak - a thing that's quite normal for the two of you in your post-sex hazes - but for you, it feels different this time.

Maybe it's the stress that's already started seeping back into your bones, maybe it's the sound of Taehyung's coughing in the bathroom that is still ringing in your ears, or maybe it's the bright crimson staining the washcloth in your hands that certainly wasn't there before. Maybe it's nothing at all. Something tells you that it's not that though. Something tells you that Taehyung's heaving chest isn't from the exhaustion of sex, that he really was trying to hide the coughing, and that the sickly sweet scent you smelled on his breath earlier was something far too familiar for your liking.

You want to hurl all the sudden. Empty the remains of dinner into the toilet and whatever the fuck else is in your stomach. You want it gone. That all too familiar pain in your chest is starting up again. Mind is drifting back to work. Back to Hoseok. Back to the yellow.

It's always about him. It has to be him.

...

"You said this started how long ago, Miss L/N?"

"I don't remember." The woman sitting across from you pauses, her pen hovering over the notepad on her desk, and she looks up to glare at you.

"I'm going to need you to try harder than that, Y/N. How long ago did your arrangement with Mr. Kim start?" She asks again. You don't offer an answer. She sighs. "I cannot help you if you aren't honest and open with me, Miss L/N. I need to know the extent of the issue so we can reach a proper diagnosis and as such find the best way to help you. Will you let me do that?"

"Yes, I will," you admit. You refuse to look at her still; instead, you focus your attention on the floor beneath your feet. The white sneakers look out of place against the brown wood.

"Then let's start again. How long ago did this begin?"

"Two years ago. December 31st. New Years party. My best friend introduced me to Taehyung." You don't particularly want to revisit the memory. The stare of the psychologist across from you is compelling in some way, however, and you find yourself letting the memory slip to the forefront of your mind. "Taehyung was a senior college student at the time. I had just graduated earlier in the year. Attraction at first sight I guess? An ex of mine was at the party, and I wanted to avoid him so I made a move on Taehyung to hide from him. My ex saw me, started trying making moves on me, then tried to buy me drinks. Taehyung suggested that we pretend to be a couple to get my ex to quit bothering me. Three drinks later, we were fucking at my place. Four days later I'm showing up to work and Taehyung is there, along with an announcement that he's a new trainee at the company. I'm not sure how things unfolded from there. I didn't intend for it to turn out like this. I didn't want it to."

"What did you want, Y/N?"

"Something else? Someone else? I'm not sure. I think I wanted a relationship, but at the same time I didn't." You pick at a stray thread on the hem of your shirt.

"Would you call what you have with Mr. Kim a relationship?" The woman asks. Her pen scrapes across the notepad on her desk, hand moving fast as she scribbles unknown words on the paper, and you watch the movement with little care. Yes. That's what it is, right? It's a relationship? It has to be. What else would it be?

"I don't know. It should be a relationship, shouldn't it?" It's a theoretical question, and you aren't expecting an answer or any sort of comment from the woman across from you. She proves you wrong with her next words.

"Given the consistently of the sex and how often you see each other, yes. It should be. Do you want it to be, Miss L/N? Relationships are what you make them, every kind of relationship from friendships to marriages. If you don't want it to be, then why do you continue to see him?"

"I need to get my mind off the stress of work somehow. Nothing else I've tried works. I've seen people about it, tried medications, meditation, everything. Sex takes the stress away for long enough."

"You don't want a relationship with him?" The woman continues to poke and prod at the question you're trying to avoid. "Don't dodge the question, Y/N."

"No. I don't. I don't want the commitment or feelings tied to a relationship. And I don't want that with Taehyung. I don't care about the dates or hand holding or anything like that. I don't want that with him." The therapist hesitates. Her pen lingers above the notepad, and she looks up at you. She brings her free hand to her face and pulls her glasses off to place them on the desk.

"Who do you want it with then?" You pause at the question. Your hesitance must be an answer in and of itself, because the therapist continues speaking. "It seems as though there is someone you want that kind of romantic relationship with. The one with hand holding and dates and things like that. What's keeping you from having that kind of relationship with the person you want it with?"

Your chest hurts. Head hurts. Heart hurts. Everything hurts. There's constriction in your throat, a burning sensation flooding your lungs, and you nearly choke on your breath. The back of your throat itches. You need to cough, but you can't let yourself do that. It's too much.

"I see..." The woman trails off, pen returning to that methodical scribbling. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears. It drowns out everything else. "What do you want, Y/N?"

To not feel anymore. To get rid of it. For it to be gone. To love someone else for fuck's sake. Why couldn't it have been Taehyung?

"This isn't just about Taehyung anymore, Y/N. That's not the root of the issue, is it?"

I don't want it to be. I don't want it to be about him. It's not about him. It's not about either of them. Why? Why, why, why?

The white of your shoes looks even more out of place against the wood floor. It's hard to breathe. The sound of her scribbling is so loud. Everything is too loud.

The air smells floral. It reminds you of the color yellow. Reminds you of Hoseok.

Sunflowers. There are sunflowers on the desk. You smile softly. Hoseok loves sunflowers.

The pain rips through your chest now. You know you'll be rushing to the bathroom after this. Yellow petals will be crimson in the toilet. They'll just continue to blossom without a care. Then you'll go to the coffee shop and sit in the same booth with the same smile on your lips and the same mask hiding your feelings. He'll sit across from you, smiling and beaming as he always does. Always so yellow. He'll ask you how the appointment went, and you'll lie. You always do. You have to.

It's always about him. Why does it have to be him?

...

"Daffodils?"

"Yea, figured your new place needed a bit of brightness!" Hoseok beams at you as he sets the vase down on the counter. He's right: the space is still quite empty, despite you unpacking all your belongings already. It's dim and bleak, but honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way. It at least represents you. The yellow flowers seem so out of place in the sea of grey around it. "Besides, they're your favorite." Your gaze flits over to Hoseok.

"You remember that?" Your tone is quiet and faint, somewhat weak if you wanted to admit it.

"Of course I do." Hoseok smiles again. Yellow. Oh so yellow. You'll be painting the floor of your bathroom yellow by the end of the day, crimson dusted yellow petals scattering the tile no doubt. "I remember everything about you." The force from the pain in your chest nearly makes you double over. It's such a strong sensation that you forget how to breathe for a moment.

His smile is so bright. Happy and warm too, and you don't want to look away. It should be a relief from the pain in your chest, and yet it's not. It only serves to make the feeling ten times worse.

"Of course..." You mutter, a small smile of your own playing at your lips. Turning away from Hoseok, you glance around the new apartment. It's nothing special, if anything, it's only a bit closer to the studio so you have less of a walk to get to work now. Smaller than your last apartment too, but that's alright since you didn't need so much space anyways. "The bed is huge!" Hoseok had noted when you first moved in. You silently wonder how many times Taehyung is going to fuck you into that very mattress, pressing your face down into it and fucking you with reckless abandon.

"You there, Y/N?" Hoseok's voice pulls you from the thought. "I asked you a question."

"Sorry, I was thinking about all the decorating I need to do to make this place feel more like home." You shake your head, pushing all thoughts of Taehyung to the back of your mind so you can solely focus on Hoseok instead.

"Well, I asked if you want to do anything in particular. I guess decorating would be an option?" Hoseok moves away from the counter and comes to step in front of you. "Or we could christen the place." You blanch at his words, the undeniable implications behind it causing a deep blush to rise on your neck and cheeks. You duck and turn away to hide the evidence of your embarrassment. You hope that Hoseok doesn't see the flush. "Not like that, Y/N, for fuck's sake. I'll leave that to you and Taehyung."

You sigh at his comment.

"We... uh, we didn't break up since we were never together but yea. We stopped, uh, seeing each other." You and Hoseok freeze at the same time.

"You what?"

"We stopped seeing each other?" You repeat, a bit more hesitance in your tone now.

"When?"

"Four and a half weeks ago. Maybe less, maybe more. I haven't been keeping track." You shrug in the hopes that Hoseok won't make this a huge deal. Knowing him though, that's a bit much to ask for.

"Really? You really haven't been keeping track?"

"I've been focused on the move, Hobi. And work. And things that aren't Taehyung so I don't go back to him yet again. I'm determined this time."

It's the truth, at least you feel like it is to some degree. In all honesty, the reason you told Taehyung that your arrangement needed to stop was because of Hoseok. Not necessarily because he told you to, but because you thought maybe it would somehow help get rid of the fucking pain in your chest and the fucking flowers blooming in your lungs. Four weeks and five days later, it's still doing nothing. Of course you've been keeping track. As the therapist told you, it's sex addiction. You need sex to function basically, according to her. And perhaps she's been right all along. Because now (four weeks and five days later) you don't need Taehyung. You need sex.

That realization hit harder than it should have. You always knew that you and Taehyung operated on a no strings attached relationship. The two of you agreed that there would be no feelings, no emotions involved, no nothing. Leaving Taehyung was easier than you thought. Leaving the sex itself wasn’t. Your stress levels are absolutely through the room at the moment, and you know that your work is suffering because of it. Yet you still want to stay strong.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N. Really, really proud." Hoseok moves closer to you, his hand brushes your arm, and you jolt as though a bolt of electricity has shot through your body. Hoseok doesn't comment on it, instead he keeps pressing forward until his hand latches onto your bicep. "Four and a half weeks is a long time. You're doing really well."

"Doesn't feel like it," you mutter. Even this proximity with Hoseok is sending surges of arousal through you. You need to get away from him. You have to get away from him. This isn't good for you. "Still feel stressed as fuck."

"I have an idea," Hoseok says. You know you need to put space between you and him, you know you need to back up and not let him get any closer because for fuck's sake you've made it four and a half weeks without sex. You don't fucking need it. "Do you trust me, Y/N?"

"Of course I do, Hobi. I trust you with my life."

And yet, that familiar pain in your chest isn't present. You can breathe. Unlike every single other time Hoseok has stepped close to you like this, you can breathe. You don't feel as though flower petals are going to surge through your esophagus. It feels fine.

"More than Taehyung?"

There's daffodils on the counter. So yellow, and yet somehow not as bright and yellow as Hoseok. How is that possible?

"This isn't about Taehyung," you argue. Hoseok's touch feels like it's burning your skin. He feels so hot, looks so bright it's like you're looking into the sun.

"Let's make sure it stays that way then, Y/N. Let's make sure this is just about you and me."

"I don't want Taehyung, Hobi. I never have. It's always been about you."

"I know, Y/N, I know." The words dispel all sensations of warmth in your gut. You're suddenly cold, oh so cold, and you yank your arm away from Hoseok. "Don't—Y/N, don't overreact please. I-I know how you feel about me. I've known for a while. I... I couldn't say anything because you were with Taehyung. I do-don't. I don't want this to change anything between us. Please? Don't let this change anything between us."

"Why are you fucking mentioning now of all times then?" You hiss as you take another step back. You can't look at Hoseok anymore, it's too much for you to handle, and that burning sensation is engulfing your lungs again.

"When else was I supposed to mention it? While you preoccupied with Taehyung? I couldn't do it then." You snap your head in Hoseok's direction, eyes blazing as you stare him down. It feels embarrassing and foolish, and you hate that he knows. You hate that he's known for a long time, and you absolutely cannot stand the fact that you've been making a fool of yourself for so long.

You fucking hate that he's known for so long, and your chest has only proceeded to get worse and worse. The flowers have only continued to bloom. You continue to puke sunflowers into the toilet with each passing day. He's known for so long and nothing has changed. That only makes you feel worse. You either need to curl into a ball and cry, jump off a bridge, or fuck it out of your system. With your arrangement with Taehyung on permanent hold and a strange desire to stay alive, you go for the first option.

Tears hit your cheeks before you know what's happening. Hoseok moves towards you, but you go down before he can reach you, squatting on the floor as you cover your eyes. It hurts so fucking much, and you can't do a damn thing about it.

"Shh, Y/N, shh, it's okay. It's okay, I promise. Everything is okay. You're okay. I'm okay. We're okay." Hoseok bends down beside you, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder. He rubs small circles against your back.

"It's not. It's not okay. Nothing is okay. Why the fuck have I been trying so hard for so long? God I'm such a fucking idiot," you rant through your sobs. A few hiccups follow, the cascade of tears on your cheeks continuing as Hoseok attempts to console you.

"It's okay, I promise. You can't decide whether something is okay for me or not. Only I get to decide that, yea? I've never held it against you. I've never thought it would change our relationship. None of that. Nothing has changed." Hoseok presses his cheek against your hair. It should be warm. You should feel the warmth of the action. Yet instead, it's cold. It's so so cold. "It's going to be okay."

Hoseok presses his lips against your forehead. The contact is warm. It blossoms across your skin. You want more. You need to feel it on your lips. You need it like you need oxygen.

You aren't sure how it happens but you end up in the bedroom. Sprawled over that massive bed that Hoseok commented on. Shirt and pants gone, only left clad in your underwear and bra. Hoseok is over you, one leg on either side of your hips. How did I get here? You wonder if this was the prime moment for you to disassociate. This - the moment you've been waiting for, the thing you've been wanting for so long - and your mind decides to go blank now of all times. Hoseok's skin is still so cold. How did we get here?

Lips work their way down your neck, tracing your collarbone and pressing marks against the skin there. Marks you've always wanted. Why does it feel so strange now that you have them? Panic surges through you. Have I reached a point where sex makes me feel nothing? Does it mean nothing? Have I gone too far? You struggle to grasp the reigns of control. Instead, you grab hold of the collar of Hoseok's shirt and use the force of your body to roll on top of him.

"You're taking too long," you mutter before crashing your lips against his. It's searing, burning, a fire in your gut. You need it, you need it, you need it. Fingers dance across the skin of his abdomen, darting under the fabric of his shirt and hooking onto the band of his sweatpants. The evident tent in his pants is proof enough of his arousal, but it makes your mouth nearly water when you tug the band over his restrained cock to release it. He's not wearing underwear, and you shouldn't be surprised because it's Hoseok of all people. He's a free spirit, hell, he'd go fully nude if he had the opportunity to. But now, it just heightens your arousal. You don't want to waste any time.

You don't even bother to take your underwear off or stretch yourself before taking his cock in your hands and pushing it against your slick folds. It's uncomfortable when you sink down on him, the stretch bigger and more painful than you anticipated, but you don't want to stop now. You need to keep going. To keep using. To keep consuming. More more more. It's never enough.

Even as you're building a steady rhythm and bouncing up and down on him, it doesn't feel right. You aren't feeling anything. It doesn't feel bad or good. Just nothing. Numb. You're numb. Hoseok is moaning loudly, and it compels you to mimic the sounds just so that he's not alone. His high is nearing quickly. You still don't feel a thing.

"A-Ah, Y/N, Y/N, stop. I ah I can't cum in you. Fuck, I'm not wearing protec—ah!" You push down particularly hard, and Hoseok lets out a high-pitched whine. You pull off him a moment later, watching blanking as his dick flops out of you still slick with your juices. You don't think twice before dipping down and taking him between your lips. It's sloppy and messy and disgusting but you continue until Hoseok releases a guttural moan and cums down your throat.

He's still recovering from the orgasm when you climb off of him. You immediately head for the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you without a second thought. Bending over the toilet as though it's routine. Clutching blindly at your chest as the pain cascades over you in waves. More crystalline tears fall from your eyes as yellow and crimson fall into the clear water. All you can think about is how it's nothing like how it was with Taehyung. How the stress hasn't left. The feelings haven't left. The pain hasn't left. Nothing has changed.

It's always about him. I don't want it to be.

...

"Tae...hyung." You trail off instead of calling him by the old nickname you gave him.

"Y/N. It's been awhile, huh?"

Yes, you could say that. It's been quite some time. Five months, in fact (not like you've been counting or keeping track). How many days? You shouldn't be keeping track, you told Hoseok you weren't, and you told the therapist that you weren't. Neither of them know that you're here, meeting with Taehyung again, and talking through things with him again five months after the last time you said goodbye.

But the damn flowers in your lungs haven't gotten any better, and seeing Hoseok three or four times a week has only helped accelerate their process of growing and blooming. In the very least, you haven't made it worse by fucking him again, because you're certain that you would be long gone by now. Probably would have keeled over in front of the toilet at some point, face first in a bowl of crimson stained flower petals. Instead, you're here. Sitting in some random ass dingy diner near the building where you both work, and yet this is the first time you've seen each other in months. You told Hoseok it had been final. You would not see Taehyung again, and certainly would not have sex with him anymore.

"Yea, you could say that again..." You trail off, dragging your nails across the table. Across from you, Taehyung coughs, his whole body suddenly struck by a wave of heaves. He covers his mouth, and you watch him slowly try to stop the heaves from continuing to no avail. "Are you sick, Tae?"

"No, no, no. Just a little cold. I'm fine." Taehyung waves his hand and quickly dismisses your question.

"How is...how is debut coming along?" You ask. To be honest, you're unsure where to start a conversation with him, seeing as anytime the two of you were together, there was little to no conversation going on. At least, no talk of this nature. Your cheeks nearly flush at the thought of the dirty things Taehyung would hiss in your ear during sex, strange seeing as you never had any shame with him before.

"Just fine." Taehyung drags his thumb over the cup beside him, condensation sliding off to land on the pads of his fingers. "It won't be long until the big day. How is—" Taehyung cuts off with another cough, this one less violent than before but still concerning nonetheless. "How, uh, how is Hoseok doing? And work? I saw your name on a few tracks."

"Are you gonna be able to debut?" You ask all the sudden. Taehyung was not expecting the question either, from what you can tell, because his hand smacks the drink near him and spills it all over the table. The two of you jolt, both reaching for the same napkin. As soon as your skin touches his, Taehyung flinches away from you as though burned and slides out of the booth.

"I-I, uh, I need to g-go to the restroom re-real quick. Be, um, be right back."  He's coughing as he goes, one hand over his mouth as he rushes to the bathroom, and something tells you that it isn't merely a cold he's suffering from. You blink at the place where Taehyung just was, eyes glued to the booth as water and ice continue to spill over the side of the table. A waitress rushes to the table, rag in hand, and she swiftly cleans up the mess without a word. Leaving as though you aren't even there. You count the seconds until Taehyung comes back until they blend into minutes and you start to lose track of the time when you look out the window. At the sky and the trees covered in deep yellow sunlight. Subconsciously, a smile finds its way to your lips and overcomes you.

"S-Sorry about that, I thought I was gonna be sick for a second." Taehyung startles you out of your reverie. The smile droops and slips into a frown within an instant. Taehyung must notice, because he comments on it a moment later. "Do you have to go meet him soon?"

"What?"

"Hoseok. You only ever smile like that when you're thinking about him." It's a poignant accusation, one that is quite accurate actually, but you despise it nonetheless.

"What kind of flowers?" You ask instead of answering him. Taehyung blanches, hands trembling again.

"Huh? For what?"

"The ones you threw up in the bathroom. What kind?" You continue. Leaning forward, you try to catch Taehyung's gaze with your own. "I know, Tae…"

"No you don't," he hisses back.

"You can't lie to me about this Taehyung."

"You don't know anything."

"Tae… is it daffodils?" His hesitance and the fear in his eyes tells you all you need to know. You aren't sure what you're expecting. "I-Is it m-me, Tae?" Again, he doesn't answer. His expression morphs, however, shifting into something unreadable, and yet it gives you all the answers you need. You shouldn't have been expecting anything to be honest. You should have known better. "I see…" Is this how Hoseok felt when he found out?

"Y/N, I-I'm—listen, it's not—you, it's just—"

"Me. It's me. Yea, I understand. I guess I got what I deserved with the sunflowers then." You expect Taehyung to question you now, ask what you mean by that, wonder why you're bringing up sunflowers all the sudden. He doesn't do any of those things. Just… stares at you sadly, as though he knows. He knows. "It's Hoseok. H-How could I no-not fall for him?" You could have phrased that better, in fact you probably should have not said that at all.

"How could I not fall for you?" Taehyung replies, smile sad when it comes to his lips a moment later. "Who else could I have chosen?"

"Someone better."

"There is no one better, Y/N."

"Someone who could fucking love you back and not leave you with fucking hanahaki disease."

"I don't need you to love me back. I'm just lucky enough to love you as it is."

"That's not fair to you," you hiss through grit teeth. The tears are beginning to come to your eyes, stinging the corners of your eyes, and before you can stop it, they're spilling down your cheeks.

"I'm the only person who gets to decide what's fair to me and what's not. I'm happy with the way things are. Well, I mean I was happier when we were sleeping together, but that's not much of an option anymore, is it?"

"It's not—"

"If you say it's not right or fair one more time, I'll leave."

"You fucking deserve better than me!"

"I deserve a whole hell of a lot worse than you, Y/N. But it isn't about what I deserve, I can't change the fact that I love you. Otherwise I would never have agreed to the deal in the first place and started sleeping with you. There wouldn't be flowers growing in my lungs, or I would have had a damn procedure a long time ago. I won't stop loving you or caring about you or anything like that. It's not that easy, is it?" You sit in silence as you digest his words.

"It wasn't supposed to turn out like this for us, was it?" He laughs under his breath.

…never would have agreed to the deal in the first place…

You freeze. The two of you never made a deal. There was no deal. It was just about you and Taehyung and sexual urges. You clench your fists against the table.

"What deal?"

Taehyung cocks his head to the side. "I-I, uh, I didn't mention a deal?"

"Yes you did. What deal, Taehyung?"

"N-Nothing." Taehyung looks down at the table, avoiding your gaze. Your fists uncurl to lay flat against the table.

"Why can't you just be honest with me, Taehyung?"

"You aren't going to like my answer..." The man across from you trails off, and he finally looks up at you. "I can't hurt you, Y/N. Please don't ask me to hurt you. I can't do that to you."

You narrow your eyes at Taehyung. "I don't understand why not since it's about me."

For a moment, everything is so yellow that it overwhelms you. Blinding you, seeping into your skin and filling you with warmth, lining your skin with it's touch. You should be thinking of Hoseok. He's so yellow, so perfect, so wonderful, and yet. And yet the only thing on your mind is Taehyung. Taehyung, whose touch is so warm and smile so bright. It's all Taehyung, all you can feel and breathe, he's your everything in that brief moment.

"I can't be the one to tell you. It's not my place. I'm sorry, Y/N."

Your chest still hurts. It burns, your throat stings and feels as though it's closing on itself, and you know that soon you'll be rushing to the bathroom and fighting the urge to throw up more sunflowers.

It's always about him. I'm so tired of it being him.

...

"Hoseok."

The mood is bleak when he steps through the door, and the first thing he sees in the apartment is yellow. Everywhere around him, so bright and yellow that it almost blinds him. There are vases upon vases spread over every counter, table, surface after surface covered in flowers. He didn't pinpoint Taehyung as the type to decorate, especially not with bright yellow flowers like this, but he supposes that he doesn't know Taehyung well enough to understand his methods of interior design.

Daffodils.

"Taehyung. You asked for me?"

He should've known it would be daffodils. Hoseok turns away from the flowers, hands pressed into his pockets, and looks over to where Taehyung is standing by the door frame.

"She asked about the deal."

Hoseok pauses, eyes flitting up to meet Taehyung's. "W-What did you say?" He can't hold back the quiver in his tone. "Did you te—"

"That it's not my place to tell her. I didn't mention you at all, but that doesn't mean she can't put two and two together. Just you know... in case she comes to you. So you can be ready to explain things."

"How bad is it, Taehyung?" Hoseok asks. He doesn't specify, but the obvious glances around at the flowers and vases littering the apartment are enough to give Taehyung clues as to what he's asking about. Taehyung glances over at a vase. Eyes are glassy, crystalline tears swelled in the corners.

"You know… I'm supposed to debut in less than three months."

Hoseok drops his chin.

"I won't make it past one apparently."

"Fuck, Taehyung." He doesn't know what to say in response, and to be frank, there isn't much he can say at the end of the day.

"Doctors want to go ahead and do the procedure. At least let me have a career for awhile, even if it doesn't end well. Have one thing going for me, right?"

"But you don't want to," Hoseok states, adding a small nod to accentuate his words.

"Of course not," Taehyung laughs. It doesn't change the mood at all, the lingering sadness remains, the tears ready to fall at any second now. It won't change anything, and Hoseok was a fool to think it would.

"I'm so sorry, Tae."

"Why? You've done nothing wrong." Taehyung's smile is too bright. He seems too happy about this whole situation, but maybe it's just the overwhelming scent of daffodils filling his senses.

"If I hadn't asked you… if I had just been honest with her… you wouldn't—you might—" Hoseok cuts himself off. The words are too hard to get out in all honesty, even though he knows they're the truth. Taehyung seems to know exactly what's on his mind.

"I agreed to the deal because I already loved her. You didn't do anything. Didn't change anything. Didn't make it any different. I was doomed from the second I saw her. At least... at least I got to have her for a time. I'll always be grateful for that, and that was all thanks to you. Without you, I wouldn't have done anything. Probably died a lot sooner since she barely knew who I was. Who knows. It doesn't matter what you did, Hoseok. You did a good thing. Tried your best to, at least. I just didn't stand a chance."

"It was supposed to work. I was supposed to fix things. The deal wasn't for me. It was for you. It was for her."

"Love is a funny thing," Taehyung mutters. He walks over to the counter, grabbing hold of one of the daffodils and twirling it between his fingers. "Especially when it's unrequited. Can't love anyone else even if you want to."

"Do you want to love someone else, Taehyung?"

"No, never. I could never want that. I know she does though. She told me that once after sex. "I wish I loved you but I can't". You tried your best, Hoseok. You can't blame yourself anymore. We just… couldn't change her mind, and that's okay."

"She's going to die, Tae. That's not okay."

"Does she want the procedure?"

"No, of course not. I haven't even bothered asking, I know what her answer would be. It sounds wrong… but if she doesn't want the procedure, I don't want to make her get it. As much as I want her to live… I want her to be happy more. If she's happy like this, then I can't take that away from her. I just can't let her die." Hoseok pauses, eyes lingering on the daffodil in Taehyung's hands. Thinking of the stray sunflower petals he found on the bathroom floor the morning after having sex with you. The ones even before that, the way he could smell the sunflowers on your skin every time he was with you. The way he knew, and yet in the end he was unable to do anything.

"I can't either. I'd rather go out myself, but I guess that's already happening."

"Tae…”

"What can you do, Hoseok? What could you have done?"

"Make sure things end differently." Hoseok turns on his heel, hands falling out of his pockets to grab hold of the jacket he dropped on the counter beside a vase of flowers.

"Hoseok, you can't—there's nothing you can do!"

"Fucking watch me," he hisses back at Taehyung without bothering to look back at him.

It's always about him. Why can't it be me?

...

It's cold.

You should be used to the sensation by now, but something about it is different this time. It isn't coming from inside of you, rather it's the air around you that's suffocating and chilly. It seeps through your skin, digging it's way into you until it occupies your veins. The white tile under your feet radiates cold as well. Everything about this place is cold. The mood. The people. The air.

Warmth reaches your arm. A hand closes around your forearm, and you look to the man on your left. Yellow. He's so yellow. You wonder how much longer it's going to last.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. You press your lips into a smile. It's forced, and that much is evident, but you aren't sure what else to do. There isn't much you can do in this situation, the decision has already been made, and you don't think there is any going back now. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay," you reassure, placing your own hand over the one on your arm. "I don't blame you for any of this, Hoseok. It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

"I know. I'm telling you that you don't have to be."

"I can't…c-can't not be."

"It'll be better this way."

"You won't be happy."

"I'll manage." Another smile, this one even more forced than the last, and you hope that he doesn't see the wavering confidence in your expression. "I always do."

"Miss L/N? We're ready for you."

"Guess that's my sign to leave." You sigh and retract your hand from Hoseok's arm.

"Y/N—" Hoseok cuts off and clears his throat. He looks up as you stand, joining the woman clad in a white coat and pale blue scrubs. "I-I'll see you when you're done?"

"Hoseok…” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, you shake your head slightly.

"I can tell you about the deal when you're done?"

"I think it's best if I just don't know any more details about that."

"Right…"

"Actually, I-I think it's best if you—if you just go home. I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry," Hoseok mutters yet again.

"I said don't be, Hoseok. I'm doing this for you, but I don't think you want to see the aftermath." The nurse at your side seems to notice the spike in tension between you and Hoseok. She steps between you and his line of sight.

"Sir, we ask that you respect her wishes. We promise to take good care of her, you don't need to worry about that."

"Of course, of course." Hoseok nods a few times before standing up and glancing around the nurse to see you. "Good luck, Y/N. I… I'm sorry things turned out like this."

He doesn't say anything more than that. Turns on his heel and heads down the hallway the same direction you came, and soon he's completely out of your sight.

"Let's go ahead and get started, Miss L/N. I promise we'll make this process as painless as possible. You're in good hands."

As painless as possible. Yeah. It won't hurt one bit.

Funny how watching Hoseok walk down the hall and disappear from your sight didn't hurt one bit. It's as though the flowers are already withering up inside you, dying and taking your feelings for him with them. Each step into the cold hospital room is like another petal falling. You wonder how long it would take for them all to wither up and die.

"Right this way, Miss L/N."

Not long enough or too long?

It's always about him. I'd do anything for him.

...

The apartment is an absolute disaster, and Hoseok cannot take his eyes off the mess for one second. Glass everywhere, shards covering the floor so much that he wouldn't even dream of taking his shoes off before stepping further in. Shattered vases left and right with their water spilled all over the floor. And flowers. Bright yellow flowers scattered across the room. Those damn daffodils.

"Taehyung?"

Maybe he shouldn't have come today, but after you asked him to leave the hospital, he couldn't just go home and be left alone with his thoughts. He needed to come here and see Taehyung. Maybe convince him to get help too. Try to do something since he royally fucked everything else up.

Yea, wouldn't that be fantastic? Fix things? A cruel joke, if anything.

Hoseok steps forward, trying to ignore the crunch of glass under his shoes, and bends down to pick up the first daffodil in sight.

A hint of red of the spotless yellow petals.

Hoseok's blood runs cold. He picks up another flower.

Another touch of red on the underside of the petals.

"Oh god Taehyung…" Hoseok doesn't stop to check any more flowers. Perhaps two isn't enough to make a proper assumption, but Hoseok is certain he doesn't need more evidence to know why Taehyung had so many flowers and why the apartment is in the state it is now. "Taehyung?"

"You know… I'm supposed to debut in less than three months."

Worse than he thought. Hoseok thought that the last time he came by Taehyung's apartment. The ridiculous amount of flowers in the room was enough to show him that something was horribly wrong. No one has so many flowers, even when plagued by the damn disease.

"I won't make it past one apparently."

And how long has it been since then? Not long enough.

More glass crunches under Hoseok's shoes as he moves forward, an awkward jog to the bedroom where he knows Taehyung has to be. The door is either locked or barricaded with something when he reaches it. Hoseok slams his shoulder against the wood once, twice, three times before it bursts open. A chair falls to the floor, nearly tripping Hoseok as he moves into the bedroom. He doesn't waste time in looking around the room much; instead, he rushes for the bathroom.

Yellow light filters under the door, cascading crude shadows across the carpet. Hoseok forces himself to slow down and walk to the door as calmly as he can. A slight twist of the handle. It clicks. Odd how Taehyung took the time to barricade his bedroom door but didn't bother locking the bathroom.

Part of Hoseok doesn't want to open the door. Part of him knows exactly what's behind it. He doesn't want the confirmation, and yet — and yet he needs it. Needs to see the consequences of his own actions and choices with his own two eyes.

The door clicks open.

Bloomed in a garden of loneliness

He smells daffodils and blood. The scent overwhelms him in an instant. In fact, it's so strong that he has to bring a hand to his nose to block it from overwhelming him any further.

A flower that resembles you

Flower petals across the counter and in the sink, trailing their way down to the toilet and floor. The seat's up, yellow and red filling the toilet until it overflows.

I wanted to give it to you…

And there, in the bathtub, curled into himself so tightly that Hoseok can barely tell who he is, lies Taehyung.

Someone tell me why it had to be you?

...

a/n: whew thank you for sticking around for the long ride if you made it to the end! please give me some feedback and let me know what you think of the fic! the three lines before the end (Bloomed in a garden of loneliness, a flower that resembles you, I wanted to give it to you) are from the truth untold by bts :D

forever tags: @hotnoodle​ @nmjcn​

thanks to @franklytae​ and @thinksshesawolf​ for entertaining me and my ideas throughout the process of this fic, i luv u all very very much :3

[melindacoulson4]

Fic tag to 4x12..AU now

I wrote a little something for 4x12 based on the promo pics. I meant to upload it before the episode aired, but i suck. It’s AU now. It gives some insight into what is going on in the mind of LMD May.  Also, this is the first philinda fic i’ve actually finished. I have like 50 wips on my phone. Let me know what you guys think! It’s also on FF...planning on putting it on AO3 too.

There’s a brief flashback in the middle of this (in brackets) that references the scene between Coulson and May in episode 11

May's POV

"Here, I think this is it." Phil motions for her to meet him at the end of the hall.

Phil leads her to a room with all sorts of books. They walk into the library and begin their sweep, making sure it isn't occupied.

Sam Koenig had led them here. He told them that this was where the darkhold was. It took some time to extract the information from him, but he had finally relented and told what he knew.

Currently, Mace, Mack, and Daisy were trying to save Billy, while she and Phil stood by. If unsuccessful in the rescue op, Sam would call Phil and reveal the location of the darkhold. He had already said that it was somewhere in this library, but there were way too many books for them to go searching. They wouldn't have enough time.

All this time to spare and nothing to do. She knew it wouldn't take long for Phil to break the silence.

"So...want to tell me what's been bothering you?" He actively avoids eye contact with her, choosing instead to scan the rows of books lined up on the shelf in front of him.

She sighs. "I don't know what you're talking about." She knew this was coming. He had been paying a lot of attention to her. He was bound to sense that something was on her mind.

She watches him turn towards her with a playful smile on his face. "Come on. I thought we had gotten past all of this."

She looks away from him. Do not meet his eyes. That's his greatest skill; the way he just stares at her. It radiates warmth and security. It makes her want to forget how messed up everything was and just be with him.

"Seriously," he says. He takes a step closer to her. The space between them now less than what could be considered as friendly. "Melinda...You can tell me anything," he tells her softly.

Not this. "I know. I've been trying to figure out how to do...something." How to tell you that I'm not her. I'm not the one you think I am. Every time I get the courage to tell you, the words won't come out or I'm frozen in place. My mind, or more specifically my creator Radcliffe, won't let me tell you.

"Something...?" He repeats back to her, hoping for her to elaborate.

She steps up in his personal space and grabs his arm. "I-"

His phone rings, interrupting her. She spots momentary disappointment in Phil's eyes as he accepts the call. He shoots her a look that clearly says that they'll be continuing this conversation later.

She watches, curiosity piqued as he looks around the room.

"Yes, I see that," he reports to the person on the phone who she assumes is Sam. "Good...I'll check in once we're out."

He meets her eyes. "They don't have enough time to get him out safely. We have to bring it to the exchange," he explains.

"Here," he says, walking over to a shelf next to the lone desk in the room, his attention focused on the coat rack. Strangely enough, there were a bunch of coats and bags hanging on it. This was odd. It seemed like no one had been this room for decades. It had a major abandoned vibe to her.

"If you came looking for a book, would you look on the coat rack?" He asks, flashing her a grin. He hunched over and began sifting through the layers of jackets that were hung on the rack.

"It's just been sitting here?" She asks.

"I guess he figured that would be the last place anyone would look." She watches as he reaches his hand in between the jackets and pulls something out. It was a worn brown leather bag.

"Clever," she comments.

"Yea." He smiles, clearly impressed by this hiding spot.

"Are you sure you didn't come up with that?" She teases him.

"I wish," he chuckles, eyes sparkling.

The way he's staring at her now makes her heart soar. He makes her feel like a teenager. Her heart won't stop beating frantically whenever he looks at her with all of that admiration.

"Did you mean it when you said you're ready for whatever comes next?" The words are out before she thinks it through. This isn't the time for this, but she can't wait any longer. She glances at him worriedly, anxiously awaiting his response. If he regrets what happened between them 5 hours ago she'll be crushed and humiliated.

Everything has been so uncertain lately and she just wants that conformation, to know that this is true. That he wants this after all of these years.

He leans in.

Her heart feels like it's in her throat. If she didn't know how to school her features and get a hold of her blood pressure she would be feeling really embarrassed right about now.

He kisses her chastely with a promise of something more. His lips are soft and warm, yet she could also feel the passion in them. Kissing him seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

He pulls away from her slowly. "With you...Yes," he says, confidentiality.

Butterflies flutter in her stomach in response to his words.

She realizes that they've been standing here smiling at each other for far too long. As much as she wanted to keep doing just that, they had a job to do. "We should..."

He coughs, "right, we need to go."

[[[[[[5 hours ago.

"We are who we are flaws and all."

"And you're fine with that?" He asks her.

"Yea...I am." She grasped his bicep comfortingly.

Before she could say anything else Daisy walks into the room.

May pulls back immediately on instinct.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know that you guys were in here. I'll come back," Daisy says, not meeting their eyes.

She opens her mouth to object, but Daisy's gone before she could get any words out.

She stands up and is about to walk away, feeling like the moment between her and Phil had passed.

To her surprise, Coulson steps in front of her before she can pass him. "May...I.."

Maybe he feels like this is the moment. He could be tired of waiting, just as she was.

"I've been thinking about...us. And...I don't want to waste anymore time. I'm ready for whatever comes next. I want...," he trails off, but his eyes flicker to her lips. He slowly reaches up and cups her cheek. Then, leans in and kisses her.

After that, they hadn't really had time to talk about it. They had been swept up by the chaos of hearing that the Billy Koenig had been taken hostage plus Fitz saying that the Radcliffe that they had in custody was actually an LMD. And now they're here. ]]]]]

"Wait, let me see it," she requests, putting a hand out for the darkhold.

He passes it over to her.

She lifted the flap of the worn leather and saw the black book. Her hand grasped the spine of the book and pulled it out, making sure that it was indeed the darkhold. "It's definitely the darkhold," she commented.

Suddenly, Radcliffe's face appears in her mind. "Bring the darkhold to me," she hears Radcliffe say. She feels compelled to listen to him.

When she clears her eyes of the haze Phil is there in front of her, brows furrowed, eyes intently focused on her face.

"May," he calls, both hands lightly squeezing her shoulders.

Everything feels cloudy. All thoughts have been flooded with focusing on the darkhold. Get the darkhold and run. Ditch him. It's like someone sinister is whispering in her ear.

"Melinda, are you okay?" He shakes her shoulders this time. His grip much tighter than before.

Her hand drifts over towards her right hip where her gun is holstered. Before she even knows what she's doing, she has her weapon pointed at his stomach.

His hands automatically drop from her body. "Whoa, May," he says gently. She pushes the gun further into his stomach, making him move backwards. He raises his hands purely on instinct, she knows. It's just human nature, if someone points a gun at you you put your hands up. "May...look at me," he tells her seriously.

She stares at her hand, unbelieving that it's actually her own hand holding a gun to Phil. This is Phil. What are you doing?

Her grip is anything but steady. He could probably knock the gun right out of her hand if he tried.

She feels her other hand tightly wrapped around the darkhold, securing it to the side of her body.

She's trying to fight it. In response, her hand clenches around the handle of the gun. She holds it so tightly that the metal slices into the palm of her hand.

Her arm lifts on its own accord, pointing right at his chest where his heart would be. "Back up, Coulson," she orders him harshly.

"Talk to me. What's happening?" His mouth hangs open in alarm.

The gun feels heavy with intent in her hand. All she knows is that she has to get out of here. She has to get away from Phil. It's like something deep inside her was unlocked and now she was afraid of what that might be. This would ruin everything.

"I'm...so sorry. I don't want to." She can feel his resistance to the gun. His body pressing back towards her again. "Stop. Just stop," she begs him, borderline on hysterical. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't," he tells her simply. He takes a hesitant step towards her.

Her finger hovers over the trigger in response.

"Phil! Stop. Stop! Please. Get away from me," she warns. It's as if she had become a video game character and was being controlled by someone else.

Oh god! She has no control over herself anymore. The last thing she would ever want to do is hurt him, but she can't make herself put down the gun.

This is just a reminder of the reality. She had been so swept up in this that she had forgotten that this was all an illusion. She wanted to become Melinda May. She believed that she was Melinda May. She had wanted to forget about the metal under her skin, to forget it all because she's in love. She loves him so much that he made her forget everything. She wanted to be with him always, but she can't. They can't do this. She can't do this to him. It's like a bucket of ice cold water has been dumped on her head.

In some sick twisted way she silently wishes that he would pull his gun out and just take her out. It would be better for everyone in the end. She wouldn't be able to bring the darkhold to Radcliffe and Phil would get the real Melinda back, wherever she was. But this is Phil and she knows that he would never do that. He would never hurt her even if she was about to kill him. That's the evil genius of Radcliffe. He had to know that Phil would never do anything to hurt her.

That fact would surely change if he knew what she truly was.

She can barely stand seeing the compassion in his eyes. He thinks that she has no control over this. That the darkhold has somehow possessed her. He still wants to help. He still thinks she's human and not some kind of metal impostor wearing Melinda May's face. "Melinda-"

That name makes her stomach clench. It's just a reminder of what she's not. She's not Melinda. She doesn't even know what she truly is.

"No! I'm not...", she cries. Her mouth clenches up before she can spew the rest of the words that she desperately wants to say. She needs help!

The smell of gunpowder invades her nostrils. She stares in horror as Phil stumbles backwards into the bookcase behind him. His back knocks into the wood and rows of books. The bullet must've hit him in the thigh. She watches silently as he covers his right thigh with both hands. The blood is already beginning to drip onto the carpeted floor.

She can't even process what she's just done. A bullet had left the chamber because she pulled the trigger. She shot Phil.

There's only one thing left to do, leave him before she hurts him some more. Or before she has the chance to kill him.

"May!" She hears him yelling for her as she runs out of the room with the darkhold. She does this all without any hint of hesitation or a glance back in his direction because she's a cold heartless, monster.

All of this proves on thing. The thing that she did not want to admit, but now cannot deny. She is not Melinda May and never will be.

/End/