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johobi · 7 years

Text

When You Least Expect It | 04

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Word count: 8.6k

Warnings: masturbation mention, angst

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: This ended up being a 15k chapter but I wanted to keep the chapter sizes under or around 10k if possible, so here is the first part. The second part will be coming forthwith!

Next: 05 || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

Your hand twitched in your lap under the strain of suppressing a facepalm. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing this game?”

Hoseok scampered over, crouched low, perilously clutching a bottle of vodka and several shot glasses to his chest. Luckily, he managed to reach your group before the evening was ruined by the shattering of glass. “When can you ever be too old to hear your friends’ dirty secrets?” he posed, and you no longer had the power to withhold the inevitability of your hand meeting your face.

“I thought for sure that we already knew each other a little too intimately,” you peeked through your fingers at Yoongi, who, for some reason, was toting one of those expensive-looking crystal decanters and tipping it in your direction with a deliberate wink.

Hoseok followed your gaze to the subject of your shame. “Hey, I told you not to touch that stuff! It’s for special occasions.”

Drunker than he usually allowed himself to get, Yoongi waved the container in front of him as Hoseok advanced on him, withdrawing it cruelly out of reach whenever he stretched for it. “This is a special occasion,” he asserted. “I’m here.”

“Dude, I don’t care how good a friend you are, that stuff costs a bomb and you’re not having any now,” the taller of your two friends put the other in his place. It was always a little jarring when Hobi got serious. Like the sun setting and ushering in a darker unknown, seeing the light disappear from his face would have you scurrying for safety. If Hoseok was angry, upset or disappointed, you sure as hell better hope it wasn’t directed at you. In this case, however, he was more bemused with Yoongi’s defiance than anything. “I’ll bring a little for your party.”

Yoongi forced out his bottom lip into an uncharacteristic pout. Bewilderingly, the expression suited his small, round face a little too well. Dare you say, it was even becoming of him? “Fine.”

Somehow, initially lured by the promise of drinks and a sorely needed group catch-up, you’d been dragged into an ill-advised game of Never Have I Ever. When all of you gathered – even in your rather subdued late-20s – you could expect something memorable to go down. And, cocooned within a tentative tranquillity that you had weaved over the past few days, you didn’t want that endangered. You weren’t here for drama.

You’d been far more restrained with your alcohol consumption than the others so far, though, and you realised how much you’d probably missed during your past episodes of inebriation. Your wasted personality was definitely just an exaggeration of your sober one; not a Jekyll and Hyde type some of your more unassuming friends had mortified you by showcasing.

Guilty of being a flirt even when there was nothing negatively influencing your better judgement, alcohol only amplified that trait to the extent that you basically became a sexual deviant. Not a stranger to dancing on tables and giving whoever was unlucky enough to be sitting there a show of your amateur lap-dancing skills – usually goaded on by the cheers of your shit-faced peers – your inability to limit yourself had gotten you into some rather tricky and, on occasion, shameful situations. It had been a long time since you’d really let yourself go, though, and tonight would be no different. Watching the quirks of your friends’ personalities manifest in ways you’d previously been too impaired to see awarded you joy enough.

Other than the three of you, Taehyung had tagged along too, and in tow, a couple of his own friends. You were surprised he hadn’t brought Tara, but you knew their budding relationship was a big thing for him and that he was probably planning on officially unveiling her at Yoongi’s party. For the sake of safeguarding that precious, fragile stability you had pieced together for yourself, you tried not to dwell on it for long. But you knew that the only reason you weren’t being taunted constantly by visions of Taehyung walking some faceless woman down the aisle was because she was just that; an unknown, intangible. She was still just a concept in your mind, and you were afraid of what the reality would do to you when you were finally forced to confront it next Saturday.

One thing was helping, though. Immensely.

Jungkook.

You still couldn’t believe it, really.

While waiting for Hoseok to set up and for Taehyung to get back from the bathroom, you retrieved your phone from your pocket. You had no new messages, of course – basically everyone who gave you the time of day was in this room with you. But you thumbed affectionately over the last few messages he had sent you, the same quiet smile that lifted your lips settling itself there once more as you read them. Since that sequentially harrowing and then uplifting day at the school, you’d been texting each other on the regular.

[15:34] Jungkook how about this?

[15:34] Jungkook sent an image.

You spent time examining the selfie he’d sent you. Posing in front of a poster for what was obviously a horror film – some slasher, you guessed, from the silent scream emanating from the lead actress’s gaping mouth – Jungkook mimicked her expression, his free hand flat against his cheek in some wide-eyed Edvard Munch tribute. On your first look, you had merely been amused at the lengths he would go to to extract a smile from you, but then it had bloomed into an affected warmth. Everything he said and did was in an attempt to lighten the load of your burdens a little, and it touched you a tad too deep. You didn’t want him to become your pack-horse; you wanted him to enjoy his time with you, too. And, somehow, he was making it easier for you to become a person that was enjoyable to be around. In minute, hesitant steps, but still. Your second date was the day after tomorrow, and averse to the run-up to your first one, you simmered with excitement when you thought about it.

No, the pain hadn’t gotten any easier, but rather than picking at the wound and preventing it from healing, you allowed Jungkook to be the bandage that cushioned against such harm. And, because you couldn’t let yourself live, not even for one second, you felt guilty about that.

He was just a distraction.

As much as you wanted him to become everything to you that Taehyung was, he was just a temporary salve that washed away when you were dragged downstream by the current.

Taehyung always pulled you under.

[15:36] Lmfao, you’re adorable

[15:37] Jungkook i’m not adorable, damnit!! i’m a testosterone-fuelled, hot-blooded man!

You swallowed a snicker. You had a feeling that your age gap made him a little insecure, so you tried to tease him as little as possible. Tried. It was his fault for being cute as fuck.

[15:38] Somehow, you’re both. Good job!

And then he’d sent you something that stirred a feeling in you that had become all-too familiar when attached to Taehyung, but not any other man.

[15:39] Jungkook let me prove it to you someday

Yes, your venture was cautious and new, but you had set the bar with your previous flirting. This had encouraged him into being a little bolder with you. Nothing obscene, nothing even all that overt. But occasionally he sent you messages that hinted at something. And holy shit, it got to you far more than you’d ever expected. Even just the faint promise of it had you fidgeting a little uncomfortably in your seat sometimes.

It had become an altogether terrifying prospect that you may never be attracted to, or aroused by another man until you somehow got over Taehyung. The fact that Jungkook could provoke you in this way was endlessly reassuring, if not a little startling. Thankfully, it was still too early for you to even think about sleeping with him yet – you were determined to take it slow, despite what your body told you – and if things ever went well enough for you to consider acting on your desire, you had ample time to prepare.

[15:41] Maybe, if I’m feeling charitable lol

And that was something he was going to have to get used to – your sometimes overly abrasive wit that was certainly not a defense mechanism in any shape or form. Not at all.

He seemed to sense that about you, though, if his response was any indication. In such a short period of time, too. How?

Jungkook played along.

[15:42] Jungkook yes miss, thank you miss

You had a feeling that such flirtatious back-and-forths were a tribute to the relative safety of distance between you. Jungkook certainly seemed bolstered by it. Because for every dangerous comment you’d levelled at him on your date, face-to-face, he’d been stumped, and more than a little flustered. With a little time and loosening up, what sort of a man would he show himself to be? You bit your lip thinking about it.

“Did your man-shape send you something good?” a sing-song voice rudely interrupted your increasingly indecent thoughts.

You looked up at the guy with lurid red hair. It was Jimin, one of Taehyung’s friends from college and someone you’d had to repeatedly rebuff in the past. Sure, he was hotter than Satan’s favourite beach holiday destination, but you found his personality incredibly lacking. In fact, his dating practices imbued in you as little faith as Taehyung’s, except he was not up front, he strung women along and frequently made booty calls to those who were naïve enough to believe that he would eventually want something more. And that is why you kept well away from that strutting, manspreading catastrophe. “My man-shape?” you clarified, though you supposed Taehyung had told him all about Jungkook. The fact that you were the subject of recent conversation between the two of them made you feel a little uncomfortable – when would Jimin get the hint? No, when would he finally take note of the flashing neon sign above your head that read ‘Hell can freeze over first!’?

“Yeah, your boy-toy. Sexting already?” he smirked, spread out on the couch like he owned the place, one arm slung over the back and his legs spread as wide as his distractingly tight jeans would decently allow him.

“Jesus, Jimin,” you sighed. Every time you uttered his name it was awash in disapproval. “Nosy much? How about I ask you when you last fucked someone? No, wait, don’t answer that,” you added on hurriedly, your frantically waving arms stretching to censor him the wider he opened his mouth. “No, don’t tell me. Please.”

He stuck out his bottom lip in protest but complied. Thankfully, as coarse and lewd as he could be, Jimin could – most of the time – reel himself in when people began to tire of his unseemly conversational topics. Unfortunately, he was still insufferable enough that you wouldn’t consider meeting up with him on your own time, but you were more than happy to hang out with him in the presence of others. Jimin in limited doses could be fun. Somewhere, a small part of you lurched at the thought that he had probably been your ideal type only a few years ago.

Why Hoseok thought it was a good idea to play this game, especially with Jimin present, mystified you. Not only did you basically know everything about each other already, but you were no longer living a transient lifestyle; everyone had remained here with some permanence and if anything embarrassing surfaced tonight, there would be nothing for it but to face an awkward run-in the next day. It was inescapable. And this is why these games were better suited to the temporary shitstorm of student life. Particularly for you, who was probably liable to spill the juiciest secrets of them all.

So, despite feeling the familiar, coaxing warmth of alcohol cladding your veins, you would endeavour to lie at every opportunity. The problem is, you weren’t particularly good at lying, especially when put on the spot. And all the more for being under the sway of Russian spirits.

Mercifully, Jimin’s attentions had been captured by the hushed scolding of the other friend Taehyung had brought with him – a girl you didn’t recognise, and by the way Jimin was being excessively handsy with her in the midst of their playful, charged bickering, you presumed she was his current ‘girlfriend’. Her face was entirely unfamiliar to you, and it surprised you a small amount to see her here at Hoseok’s place, considering Taehyung was your tie, not his. And he had brought with him a chain of friends whose links to Hoseok became weaker the further down the line you went. He didn’t seem to mind, though. Unlike you, Hobi was outgoing and welcoming of fresh blood. He just loved to play host.

Everyone was sitting on the floor in a circle, waiting for Taehyung to return. After several more minutes and jokes exchanged about whether to send in an excavation squad, he finally reappeared and settled himself next to you. Before anyone had a chance to say anything other than a cursory ‘Finally!’, he held up his hand. “Don’t ask, unless you want me to get gross.”

And, yes, it had dawned on you the day after your most opportune reunion with Jungkook and Taehyung’s subsequent suspicious behaviour that the Gods hadn’t smiled upon you at all. No, it had just been him spinning his tricks. From the intrepid misplacement of his phone, to the fastidiously plotted – late – arrival, to the panicked, rushed departing. The fucker had planned it all, despite your obvious discomfort with the entire situation. The anger you had felt initially would have been a damn sight more homicidal if it hadn’t been so dulled by the genuine contentedness your spontaneously set-up date had given you.

When you’d seen Taehyung next, though, you’d immediately tacked him to the wall, finger prodding his chest in accusation. He’d merely stood there, frozen, eyes wide and duly fretful. And he knew damn well it would extinguish your fury. The bear-hug he’d then trapped you in hastened your transformation from vengeful hell-bitch to tender, wilting flower. Muffled pleas for forgiveness had been breathed into your neck and it’d taken the self-control of a saint not to turn your head and swallow his begging with your mouth. Because, fuck, why did he have to get so close all the time, smelling like all your favourite memories and haunts and places in the future only your imagination could take you. It was a good idea to keep him at arms’ length, really, but he caught you off-guard every time, pinning you like the apex predator of maleness he was.

Eventually, you’d bestowed upon him the forgiveness he so desperately sought and thanked him. Because you were truly thankful. Jungkook had deserved that second chance.

Hoseok began to dish out the glasses, filling up your respective cups. Having already plied everyone with drinks since an hour beforehand, needless to say the room was already abuzz with giddy chatter. “Let’s get going, then. I’ll go first. Take a drink if you have done this, remember.”

You leaned back against the front of the sofa opposite the one Jimin and his girl were seated on and pulled your knees to your chest. “We know, Hoseok. I’ve played this game so many times.”

“I know you have,” he tutted, disappointed with your sour attitude. “And I’m sure many of us have, too. But we’ve never played it together, have we?”

Taehyung answered for you, mimicking your posture and raising his knees. “Nope. I was 3 years too late to join in on your antics,” he muttered, an indignant finger hovering between you, Yoongi and Hoseok. “But then again, I was a good boy, so.”

Yoongi almost choked on the beer he’d been chugging. Oh God, you thought to yourself. Yoongi, don’t mix your drinks. “Bullshit. You might not have been drowning in booze in your teenage years, but everyone knows you were drowning in pussy instead. You’re hardly the face of morality.”

The younger brother merely shrugged, unaffected. “True. They all thought I was a good boy, too, though.”

If you’d been drinking, you were sure it would be burning the inside of your nose right now. Instead, you slapped his shoulder lightly in admonishment. The kid was clearly becoming uninhibited. “Kim Taehyung!”

For some reason, Jimin seemed to enjoy goading you. “Things are probably going to get a lot worse than that, ____. Why don’t you drink some more to take the edge off of his PG-13 words?”

The girl thumped him, but you were already glaring at him so hard you saw even his steadfast look of self-congratulation falter a little. There was absolutely no doubt in your mind that you could take that cocky little shit of a man out back and have him begging for mercy within a couple of minutes. “Why don’t you sit on my finger and spin, little boy? You’d probably like that, huh? Don’t talk to me about PG-13.”

An uproarious ‘ooooooooooh!’ rippled throughout your group. “Holy shit,” Yoongi rasped. “Someone Google the nearest burn centre.”

Hoseok was giggling and kicking his feet like an excited child. Jimin, however, stared at you, slack-jawed enough to convey how severely dumbfounded he was. For a brief moment, in the absence of his cocksure smirk, you saw him for what he truly was: a babyfaced man still living out his collegiate fantasy in order to feed his constant need for validation. You felt sorry for him, in that second. That feeling was painfully familiar to you.

But it was Taehyung’s reaction that had you blanching. The blatancy with which you spoke about your sex life was, usually, kept strictly to the trained ears of Yoongi and Hoseok. They had frequently been your drunken comrades-in-arms, afterall. Taehyung, however, had been relatively sheltered from your mountain of sexploits. You protected him from that image of you; didn’t want him to think you were loose, or debauched, or anything else along those lines, even though you knew that he wouldn’t judge you. That it wasn’t shameful to be that way. He, afterall, had been and was still that way. Not quite as wild, you were sure, but nevertheless. And that utterance, just now, was only the tip of the iceberg. He had no fucking idea.

But he was just staring at you. His face, on appearance, blank, but you knew that face, and that everything was somewhat out of place. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes a little wider, lips incrementally parted. Afraid of what kind of conclusions his brain was coming to, you adopted your first line of defence: savagery. “I’m sorry, Taehyung, have I forever corrupted your innocence? Stop gawping and start drinking.”

Your acidity dissolved the weird tension. He shook his head and huffed resentfully. “Mean.”

Impatient to start, Hoseok clinked his glass against the bottle of vodka. “If any of you are too young, inexperienced or easily frightened, you’re more than welcome to sit out. Now let’s get started! Never Have I Ever,” he paused, scanning the circle. Everyone’s glasses raised expectantly in the air. God, you were going to get so fucking drunk tonight. “Kissed someone of the same gender.”

For some reason, everyone’s eyes flew to you first, and you shrugged and downed your shot. That was something you had absolutely no problem admitting to. You raised your hands in exasperation. “What is this, a 13-year-old’s sleepover? Give me some real questions,” you snickered. But why the fuck did you ever think that provoking the others in the room – particularly Jimin – into asking something far more untoward was a good idea? You groaned inwardly, knowing that your immodesty would only worsen with percentage imbibed.

You watched Yoongi lower his glass, and that didn’t surprise you one bit – he’d never displayed an interest in men, and very few women in general. Even your booze-fuelled fondling had been experimental rather than the culmination of some pent-up sexual frustration. If anything, you suspected he was aromantic, asexual or both.

The aggression with which Jimin slammed his glass on the table had you rolling your eyes. Of course. Such fragile masculinity. “Nope, never,” he commented as casually as possible.

Hoseok’s face had gradually drooped the more people that lowered their drinks. Then, shyly, he took his shot. Yoongi turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, reevaluating him from head-to-toe. “Really? Who? When?”

And that surprised you. Yoongi had never expressed an interest in anyone’s romantic life, even his own. Hoseok seemed giddy with the attention, and that had your eyebrows shooting skywards. Had he set this up to put out some feelers?

The younger of the two cleared his throat, falsifying some projection of nonchalance. “Some guy, and ages ago,” he trivialised the occurrence.

Unbeknownst to the man who was now questioning everything he knew about his best friend, you’d personally witnessed many more such encounters – and several that had progressed quite a bit further – you’d had the misfortune to walk in on when Hoseok had implored you to sneak him into some of the frat parties you’d attended. He wasn’t strictly in the closet or anything, but you knew that he preferred to keep it close to his chest, and for some reason that hadn’t occurred to you until now, away from Yoongi in particular. Had he gotten tired of waiting for him to show some interest? It was strangely reminiscent of your situation with Taehyung.

Interesting.

Taehyung had rested his glass between his legs and was tracing the rim with his finger, waiting for the hubbub to die down. To your great annoyance, Jimin nodded his approval at his friend’s lack of bi-curiosity. God, why was he the epitome of a bro? The girl – Candy, you thought you’d overheard Jimin calling her earlier – also raised her glass and winked in your direction, taking her shot. Failing to surprise you at every predictable, meandering turn, Jimin whooped his encouragement of this revelation. “Candy! Fuck, I’m gonna be thinking about that later,” he dropped brazenly, but everyone seemed to have discarded their reserve by this point and merely emitted a mix of cringe-induced groans and chuckles.

“My turn,” Taehyung piped up, brandishing his glass high. “Never Have I Ever had sex in a public place,” he proposed confidently, like he’d spent some time mulling over what to say.

Again, you and Candy drunk in tandem, pointing at each other a knowing finger. You seemed to be kindred spirits. Jimin and Taehyung also took a shot, and your mind was threatening to run wild with any number of potential scenarios that involved your best friend’s disposition for public indecency.

Yoongi’s glass lay neglected on the floor; apparently keeping it raised was tantamount to too much effort. “Okay, I want examples, please,” his tone not at all becoming of a request and more suspect of fallacy.

Candy and Jimin glanced at each other before the latter bragged. “In a park.”

Taehyung, having always been a lightweight, was resting his head back against the sofa cushions, rolling it from side to side for no apparent reason other than his own amusement. His voice was a lot thicker than normal and fuck if it didn’t sound like his throat was coated with honey. “In the toilets at a concert.”

Longingly, you wanted to envision such a sight. But – and even though it was difficult to contain, the longer the night when on – you would not let yourself do so. You inhaled deeply in preparation to impart your list. “On a beach, in a field, in the woods, in a lecture hall, a supply closet, the back of a car, the back of a motorbike…” you trailed off when all ambient noise ceased entirely. Were you being too honest? “Uh, you get the idea.”

“Fuck,” Jimin whistled. “Shit, you’re wild,” he lauded you openly. His companion didn’t seem at all disgruntled by his appreciative attentions. In fact, she was nodding along with his exhortations. “Alright, my turn. Never Have I Ever,” he dragged out the last word, pinning you with a pointedly salacious gaze. “Masturbated over one of the people in this room.”

The soundtrack from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly may as well have been playing for all the loaded looks that were exchanged. Like cowboys at a saloon showdown, everyone’s eyes flew to one another, some with drinks aloft and precipitously hanging. When the weird tension alone was no longer entertaining enough for Jimin, he took a shot directly and tipped the empty glass towards you, sending you a brazen wink. Your lip curled in disgust and you moved to employ Taehyung as a human shield between yourself and the shameless pervert, but you were halted by the curious hovering of his hand over his planted shot-glass. A tremulous sigh escaped him and in one fluid movement, he downed his drink, as though wanting the offending liquid gone as soon as possible.

This was far more a shocking revelation than Jimin, who seemed irritated that Taehyung’s admission had stoked the fires of enthusiasm in the group. Yoongi was the first to spring to life. And that in itself was weird, because he was usually the last person to give a shit about such frivolity. “I swear to God, if it’s me, I’m murdering you.”

Taehyung’s hair fell over his eyes when he raised his head to look at him. “Very funny, hyung.”

But he wouldn’t elaborate further, and your heart began to hammer against your ribcage. Inwardly you took a roll call, your eyes drifting between people. Was it Hoseok or Jimin? Was that why he seemed so reluctant to admit it? Or perhaps it was Candy? If she was currently engaged elsewhere, that would also explain his hesitation.

An angel of mercy appeared to tease the truth from him. “Well, who is it, then?” Jimin sneered. Alright, perhaps not an angel. One of Satan’s earthbound minions.

Taehyung didn’t seem particularly annoyed with being pushed on it; afterall, he could have lied without anyone calling him out. He slumped back again to stare up at the off-white ceiling, before a gentle loll of his head had him facing you directly and with what you can only describe as a mischievous grin rounding the edges of his angular mouth. Your blood ran cold. “____.”

“What the fuck?” you gasped near inaudibly, glancing in alarm around the circle, as though you could glean an inkling from their faces that this was some sick prank. But rather than sit there, as blank and unresponsive as you were, people were up in arms, roaring their delight. In the commotion, no-one seemed to notice the way you had drained of colour, nor hear the thunderous pounding of your heart, so loud in your ears you were sure it would deafen you.

Taehyung had been watching, though, and he patted your thigh as if to soothe you. “I’m sorry for ruining the sanctity of our childhood, noona,” he grinned impishly. Clearly, this wasn’t anywhere near the calamitous deal to him that it was to you. “In my defense, I was a teenager, and when you hit puberty you turned into this hot, older girl right before my eyes. I was into older girls for a while because of that,” he elaborated to the group, and Jimin nodded sympathetically, as though both were attendants of some support group and had experienced a shared pain.

You knew that it shouldn’t have meant anything. That the moment had long gone; been buried beneath years of many other girls and women much prettier, much more interesting than you. To be the muse of a teenage boy’s masturbation fantasy was as fleeting as the length of time it took for them to bring themselves to completion.

And yet.

And yet, there had been some acknowledgement, some time, somehow, that you had been desirable in his eyes. He’d seen you as a woman; not just as a sister, not just as some amorphous blob. A woman. And that accompanying word, having itself rolled off his own tongue, an actual cherry on top: hot. He’d thought you were hot.

You briefly recalled the sight of your ghastly reflection from an earlier bathroom trip. Taehyung almost certainly didn’t regard you as such anymore, but it had been a reality at one point. Perhaps, if you worked on yourself, you could conjure it back. What would you have to do? Lose a little weight, put more effort into your appearance?

The ice in your veins melted and allowed your blood to flow once more, searing you with possibilities. The tumultuous excitement in your stomach should have been shameful, improper – you had Jungkook to think about now, and yet, and yet you were still only one date and a few minor flirtations in, you could cut him off quickly without harming him too much more, and—

Stop, you hissed inwardly. You’re a fucking disgrace.

The power he had over you was truly formidable. How could you ever mistake the lightness in your step of late as being a sign of you finally overcoming this? If he even so much as looked in your direction you would crawl over hot coals to reach him.

You saw it in his eyes. The calm, casual way he still regarded you, as if he hadn’t just shattered your carefully constructed barriers into heart-rending fragments. You had to get out of there.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you mumbled, tripping over yourself in your haste.

“Wait,” Jimin called after you, and you repressed the urge to strangle him before turning to him, palms spread and expecting some infuriating jibe.

“What?”

“You’re avoiding the game,” he smirked, looking as pleased as punch. And that’s what he would be getting very, very soon.

You could have walked away. You could have walked away from this game from the beginning. But you were irate and not thinking straight and you wanted to affect Taehyung in some way, any way, even if it was just to make him regret such a barefaced confession. So you stalked toward him and picked up your glass, eyeing him meaningfully before throwing the liquid to the back of your throat and tossing the empty vessel to the couch. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as he gawked at you, bewildered, you sauntered away looking far more of a badass than you felt.

Because when you got to the bathroom and closed the door, you slid down its surface to the floor and began to shake, your shoulders heaving with every great, silent gasp of air you desperately drew in to prevent your panic from spiralling out of control.

This is how it would always be.

You progress around the board, you make some headway in life, you land on a Chance and you stupidly take it, every single fucking time, because you can’t not know what is under that card.

You pray that it’s Boardwalk, but you go straight to jail.

Or, more aptly, purgatory. Repeatedly.

Nothing about this situation was healthy or sane, and now Jungkook’s tender feelings were embroiled. You could no longer serve yourself so selfishly without hurting others. And that is what prompted you to, finally, take out your phone. With trembling fingers and a tear-smeared screen, you texted Hoseok.

[22:13] I’m so sorry to ask this of you. I don’t want to ruin your night, but I have something really important that I need to talk to you about ASAP.

[22:14] Would you mind taking me home? I can’t stay here any longer.

You heard the chime of his phone distantly. It was hard to stay strong, when you could feel the resurgence of your unrequited feelings crushing your lungs, but what was almost unbearable was the shame of dragging others into your mess.

[22:15] Hoseok Of course! Are you okay? What’s going on? Are you in the bathroom still?

[22:15] Yes, I’m here, and I’m hiding. I’ll tell you why soon. I can’t come out yet, I feel and look like an idiot.

A few seconds after your text, you heard the scrape of muffled movement and your head snapped up in panic. He wasn’t sending them home, was he?

[22:16] Hoseok-ah! I’ll leave, don’t tell them to go on my account! Oh God

Murmurings unmistakeably confused and reluctant in tone met your ears when you pressed one to the door.

[22:17] Hoseok I’m getting tired as it is, so don’t beat yourself up about it. I got what I wanted out of the night.

You groaned and pressed your face to your knees, sandwiching your nose between them, hoping they would swallow you up into obscurity. When the sounds from outside abated, though, you were granted no such wish. Instead, with a sudden yank of the door behind you, you fell backwards and hit your head on the floor, squinting as artificial light assaulted your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered, rubbing the crown of your head.

Hoseok peered down at you, eyebrows raised as far as they could possibly go, his expression so intensely concerned you wanted to comfort him. “____. Jesus, are you okay? What’s going on with you?”

Bracing his hands under your armpits, he dragged you into standing and you leaned against him, his warm, platonic love enveloping you in the form of his cashmere-clad arms.

And that was it.

You just.

Let.

Go.

You sobbed, and sobbed, and when he hushed you gently and manoeuvred you backwards, still face-deep in his chest, you sobbed, both of you stumbling occasionally in the conjoined efforts of two people possessing impaired motor skills. The backs of your knees eventually hit the couch and you crumpled, still clinging to him, into its plushness, and he didn’t yield, not for one second. He must have been able to tell how much you needed him in that moment.

God, it had been so long since someone had just held you, romantic or otherwise. You’d basically been sub-human and shunning any prolonged contact for a spectre of love that you were sure would haunt you to your grave. “Hoseok,” you sobbed, and you couldn’t get out much more than that.

Ever so gently, he rubbed the span of your back, equal parts to comfort and encourage you. “I’m here, ____,” and when you didn’t say anything else, he took it upon himself to relieve you of your pain without you having to open your mouth and form the excruciating words. “Is this the culmination of the last few months?”

“Y-Yes,” you sniffled, an ugly wail swallowing any further explanation.

His voice was kind, patient. “Have you been holding this in all this time?”

“Yes,” you repeated lamely, but this in itself was a miracle – your verbal confirmation of these feelings were solidifying them into concrete, tangible problems that you could potentially fight. And, now, you wouldn’t have to battle them alone.

He sighed, then, and you stiffened, because you were so afraid of rejection in any form now that you thought it possible that even one of your dearest friends would become sick of your antics and disown you. You began to tremble, and he squeezed you closer; uncomfortably tight if you liked breathing, perfectly tight if you wanted to feel as though you had returned to the safe recesses of the womb. “You can shoot me down if you like, but please don’t lie to me if it’s the truth,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you gulped. “Is this about Taehyung?”

For the third and final time, you exhaled your answer with all the relief of having a splinter extracted. “Yes.”

Hoseok nodded, but didn’t move, or say anything further. Instead, he allowed you to cry out the last of your bountiful supply of tears and only then, when you pulled away, snotty strings snapping upon the absence of your nose from his sweater, did he say anything. Of course, his first words were calculated to put you at ease. He looked down at the impressively large, damp stain you had left in your wake. “I’d recommend consulting an ENT doctor.”

You couldn’t help yourself; you laughed, your eyes still red and shining. But just the knowledge that you were no longer alone in this struggle, that it didn’t have to be contained to the self-destruction of your own inner prejudices, but could be scrutinised with objectivity and lucidity; you already felt tonnes lighter. “I’m sorry about your sweater. I promise, I’ll get you another like it.”

He futilely wiped at your endlessly gushing waterworks before handing you a box of tissues from the coffee table. “None of that. So,” he prodded gently, lowering his head to catch your downcast eyes. “Do you want to talk, or should I ask?”

Talking plainly about it was still too hard. You took the coward’s route. “I’m sorry to make you work for something you don’t even want to hear, but it would be easier if you ask me about it. My thoughts are a mess.”

Hoseok snatched the Kleenexes away from you when all you did with them was tear them apart between your fingers. That drew your gaze to him and he pinned you with one of reproach. “Stop. Beating. Yourself. Up,” he punctuated each word with a tissued dab at your face. He cupped it around the end of your nose and, like a parent kneeling before their leaking child, commanded you: “Blow.”

That roused you a little. You shirked away in embarrassment. “Oh my God, no. I can blow my own nose,” you sniffed indignantly, though the validity of your assertion was nullified in large part by the sodden patch on his sweater that he pointed to in reminder. You smiled again and thwapped him, but he seemed beguilingly happy by your response.

“I’m glad to see you smile. Let’s sort out your little problem then, shall we?” he proposed, and you sighed.

“It’s hardly a little problem.”

“It will be when we tackle it together,” Hoseok said confidently, and you almost believed him. “I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but you got upset when Taehyung admitted to being a gross little shit. I’m guessing it goes deeper than that, though?”

You shuddered at the memory of the playfulness in his eyes as he had said it. “Yes. Actually,” you sat up a little, peaked by your own interest. “Have you ever, I don’t know, sensed anything from me? About Taehyung?”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that,” he pressed gently, reclining in the space Jimin had so grossly been taking up prior. “What do you mean?”

Words were hard. “Did you ever get the impression that I was, uh, into him? Like, something I said, or did?”

Hoseok let his head rest on the back of the sofa as he considered your question. Then, he shook his head minutely. “Not really. I mean, you’ve always been affectionate with each other, and your chemistry has always been relaxed. Like, never forced, or tense, or anything like that.”

You brightened with this heartening piece of information. “Oh, I’m so glad. God, I was worried I’d been way too obvious. I mean, when you asked me about Taehyung, I started panicking that it was as plain as day to everyone, and I was the only one pretending.”

Hoseok tugged you to into a more comfortable position with him, and threw his arm around your shoulders to pull you close. “So you have a thing for him? Is that why you got upset? I thought, perhaps, because you’ve been pretty down lately, that – I don’t know, that perhaps the fact that your perfect best friend was just a dirty little pervert like the rest of us men made you feel – I don’t know, I’m grasping at straws here – betrayed, or unsafe, or, I don’t know. That’s about 5 minutes worth of frantic guessing, right there,” he rambled, and although you understood his line of thinking, you wished it was as superficial as that. “I thought this breakdown was more to do with, honestly, the outcome of my over-working you,” he muttered, and you felt the barbed sting of guilt. All you ever did was make him worry. “You’ve been suffering, you’ve been struggling, and I’ve only piled more on top of you.”

You cut off any further musings of his accountability by choking him a hug, silencing him with the pressure of your arms around his neck. “Stop. Don’t you dare think this is anything to do with you. It’s not, and it never has been.”

Hoseok sighed again, and, oh, what you would do not to hear him make such an unhappy sound. It was agonising. “Still, if you’ve been suffering for so long, I’m sad that you didn’t feel like you could come to me sooner. I feel like I’ve failed yo—“

You held a finger to his mouth and if that hadn’t muzzled him, the seething glare you watched him wilt under did. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Hoseok. You’re not the problem here, it’s very clearly me. I’ve never been one to speak openly about how I’m feeling. You should know that well. And, seeing as I show more of myself to you than anyone else, you should also know that you are, honestly, the only person I would ever come to with something like this. It has taken me reaching breaking point to finally come clean about it.”

“But why did it take for you to get to that stage?” his forehead creased in confusion. “It’s difficult to talk about, yes, but why wait until you hit the bottom before you seek help?”

“Because it’s not that I merely have a crush on Taehyung, Hoseok, I –“ you stopped to gather your thoughts into one concise statement. “I love him.”

His eyes widened almost comically. “You love him? You don’t just have some crush on him?”

“No,” you breathed, slumping into the cushions. “I’ve loved him for fucking ages. It’s slowly been driving me mad, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought – foolishly – that getting back into dating would help, and, well – it did. Kind of,” you stumbled through your words, slapping the sofa in frustration. “I like Jungkook, I really do. He’s great, and every time I doubt that there’s something there, he does something that shows me that there might be. But it’s still very early days, and I— this infatuation, or whatever it is, it’s impossible to fight most days. But especially when Taehyung says or does something that gives my pathetic hopes something to cling to. What he said tonight, well, that was the one thing that I had always protected myself with – the idea that he’d never been attracted to me. And now, well, my mind’s having a field day.”

Hoseok leaned forward, elbows steadied on his knees, a hand cupping his chin in thought. He looked most astute like this. “I see,” he muttered, his vision unfocused and clearly elsewhere. What was he seeing? A solution?

“What do I do?” you whined, stamping your feet. “Can you see my dilemma, though? Don’t tell me to confess to him, because he’s in too deep with Tara now, and even if he weren’t, he’s never expressed to me any desire to date me. And because of that, I won’t do it. I value him, my friend, far more than I value my own skewed desires.”

He bobbed his head in agreement vacantly. “No, I wasn’t going to suggest that. I agree that it could ruin things between you. I think you’re going about it the right way, to be honest – Jungkook sounds promising. Yeah, Tae throws you a curveball every now and then, but this new guy has distracted you from him pretty successfully, right?”

“Yeah,” you relented, watching the way his mouth curved sweetly when he was contemplative. “But I always go back to him. Always.”

“In that case,” Hoseok turned to you and applied a gentle pressure to your knee as though to prepare you. “I think it would be best if you distance yourself from Tae for a while and focus purely on Jungkook. I know you’ll have to see him at the party, but keep your interactions minimal for a while until you can really allow the new guy to make an impression. Hopefully, a good one.”

Honestly, you’d considered this option a few times in the past, but Taehyung was insidious. He was clingy and needy when it came to your friendship; it certainly wasn’t one of those ones where you questioned whether you were the only person in it. He was always proactive in contacting and arranging things with you, and when you’d tried to limit your time with him he’d only become more insistent, and you could hardly explain to him just why you were withdrawing from him.

This time, though, you had Jungkook. Hell yes you were placing far too much responsibility on the poor guy’s unknowing shoulders, but keeping him in the dark about it would prevent your mess from becoming his burden. This knowledge was a comfort, a stabilizer, just for you, to keep you afloat. “What if he texts me, what if he calls me? What if he just shows up without explanation? He will, you know. He does that.”

“Reply to his texts sparingly and pick up the odd call on occasion. Don’t make it seem like you’re cutting him out, just that you’re incredibly busy. Your finals are in, like, 3 weeks, aren’t they? Use that as an excuse. By then, perhaps you’ll have made some headway with Jungkook.”

“And what if Jungkook isn’t what I’m looking for? What if it’s hopeless?” you hugged a cushion to your stomach and curled over it, the black cloud looming.

Hoseok seemed to notice the shift in your state. “Don’t catastrophise,” he emphasised the last word. “I know what you’re like. Let’s try this first, and think of something if that comes to be. Okay? You have me to talk to about this, now, so don’t you dare go digging yourself into a pit again before you ask me for help.”

You stuck out your bottom lip in some ineffective attempt to stem the batch of fresh tears brimming your eyes, because you were just so fucking touched by how much he cared about you, even though you never let him in, never came to him with anything. He made you feel strong for doing this, not weak. “I love you so much,” you blubbed, and he crushed you to him again, your face squished unpleasantly to your earlier display of upset. “Thank you, Hobi.”

“Don’t even m—“

The pocket of your jeans vibrated and the two of you exchanged a look. You both knew who it would be. Now that you thought about it, you’d probably left him feeling rather disconcerted after your last interaction. Hopefully he would write it off as you being drunk and a little disgruntled rather than actual disclosure of who you thought about when you fingered yourself.

“Go ahead and read it,” Hoseok nodded for you to proceed. “We’ll figure out what to do.”

You clicked on your phone and looked at the top-most notification.

[22:53] Taehyung Noona, if I made you angry, I’m sorry. I was drunk and not thinking straight.

Another message came through while you were reading.

[22:55] Taehyung I just wanted to let you know that whatever I did back then, it meant nothing, and it never changed how much I respect you and look up to you.

Your stomach turned sickeningly. It meant nothing. You’d just made an unexpected appearance amidst his usual jack-off fodder. He was trying to comfort you, and any sane person would recognise and appreciate that. For you, however, his words only wounded you deeper.

[22:56] Taehyung I was just a stupid kid back then, and clearly alcohol helps me regress to that. I don’t think of you that way anymore, and I haven’t for a long time. I just wanted to reassure you. I don’t want things to become weird between us.

Of course it was impossible that he could find anything in you attractive now. The older you got, the more invisible you became.

[22:56] Taehyung I love you, ____, you’re the most important person in my life. And I’m sorry.

If you had been on the verge of evacuating the contents of your stomach before, you were now just one hastily-slapped-hand-over-your-mouth away from ruining Hoseok’s carpet. If the intent had just been a little different—

Hobi snatched your phone from you and marched you immediately to the bathroom. Thankfully, just in time. Ever the long-suffering, dutiful friend, he held your hair aside as you hurled this evening’s mistakes into the toilet bowl.

During one of your pained, rasping intervals, you noticed him scrolling through the messages Taehyung had sent you

“He’s saying everything wrong,” Hoseok muttered, his brows pulled down in frustration. “God, he’s so oblivious.”

Your phone buzzed in his hand and you looked up, both dreading and eager to hear what he had to say next.

Against your expectations, though, a smile lit up Hobi’s face. Just seeing that lifted your weary spirits a little. “What?”

“It’s Jungkook,” he chuckled, turning the screen to you.

[23:08] Jungkook i just woke up from the worst sleep ever and you were the first thing i thought of

[23:09] Jungkook this is creepy and far too late to send but i have anyway

[23:09] Jungkook just want you to know i’m thinking about you

Somehow, his texts dulled the sour taste on your tongue. Hoseok watched you intently, and you knew he would be pleased by what he was seeing. Every subsequent message pulled your smile a little higher, made your eyes shine a little brighter. And still, they kept coming.

[23:10] Jungkook not in a dirty way

[23:10] Jungkook oh god i’m making this worse

[23:10] Jungkook hopefully you’re drunk and delete these texts by accident

Sure enough, you were giggling at his adorable buffoonery, headache and burning throat forgotten. Hoseok gained confidence in your joint plan of action. “I’m sure things will work out,” he framed it as a statement, not a meagre hope. “Give Jungkook a chance, try and focus purely on him.”

The necessity of equilibrating your yo-yoing mental health had you agreeing resolutely. “I will. Let me just text Tae so he doesn’t worry,” you mumbled thickly, and Hoseok raised a suspicious brow at you.

“I’ll do it,” he informed you, and you knew there was no room for argument. You watched quietly as he tapped in a very brief response to Taehyung’s heartfelt apology and handed your phone back to you.

[23:14] It’s fine, I’m not mad. See you soon.

The curtness made you wince. “He’ll think I am mad,” you were convinced.

“No, he won’t. He’ll ask me when he sees me tomorrow how you were, I’m sure, and I’ll tell him you went home smiling. Okay?”

That satisfied you somewhat. “Alright. Thank you, again.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. Now, don’t leave your new man on read this time, yeah?”

A noise of agreement sounded in your throat and you stewed over how to respond to his sweet messages. You had to tease him, of course.

[23:16] I am drunk, and I re-read these texts many times on purpose. Just to commit them to memory, so I can torment you about them forever.

Next: 05 || WYLEI Masterlist

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