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Blow Me Like Your French Horn

Summary:

In which Jimin undergoes a transformation from Cinnamon Roll to Sinnamon Roll and Jeongguk is a little too competitive, a little too tsundere, and a little bit too moony-eyed for his own good.

(A tale of red converses, sandpit wrestling, shitty best friends a little too obsessed with playing Cupid, emotional constipation, existential crises, and that one body roll Jimin does that makes Jeongguk re-evaluate his life)

“i see that you adore playing your loud ass trumpet at random moments in the middle of the night, well fyi i happen to be a master at the French horn so fuck u i challenge you to a brass off” AU

Notes:

I really do not know how to stick to prompts. I kind of smashed the prompt into a million pieces and then tried to glue it together with my tears (bc I cried while writing this entire thing. God help us all)

Idk it’s gonna be a rollercoaster of jumbled adjectives and word vomit so every1 hold on tight. This should be (maybe not rly) fun

(BIG shoutout to my brofie florations who basically held my hand the entire time i wrote this. I love u)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: In Which Jeongguk Learns A New Word

Chapter Text

(i)

Jeongguk is seven years old when he learns a new word.

He watches eagerly from his position in front of the window the moving-van pulling up, followed by a small red car. His face lights up at the bright red of the car that looks a little like the apples his halmeoni picks from the apple farms she sometimes visits. Red’s his favourite colour, and he thinks that he likes these neighbours already.

He squishes his nose up to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the new neighbours. He hopes that they’re nice old people who will give him lots and lots of candy (but not pinch his cheeks, because he’s seven, not four). Or maybe the new neighbour will be a cool hyung-nim that’ll take Jeongguk out for ice-cream when it’s hot and play ball with him (because Jeongguk’s actual hyung is so dumb – all he does is talk to his girlfriend on the phone). Or maybe a nice noona that will bake him cakes and make him lemonade.  

Jeongguk doesn’t expect a boy around his age to clamber out of the car, his small face stretched out into a huge smile that Jeongguk thinks is the nicest smile he’s ever seen. His eyes are smiley rainbows and Jeongguk thinks that the boy might’ve trapped stars inside his eyes with the way they seem to twinkle in the late April sun. When he sees the shiny, golden trumpet tucked under the boy’s arm, Jeongguk lets out a sound of excitement, because it’s so cool that the boy moving in next door plays a brass instrument like he does. Maybe, Jeongguk thinks as he flies down the stairs, barely stopping to fling the door open, he and the boy can have a two-man band and perform in front of their families.  

He runs down the steps of his house and hurtles past the gate, skidding to a stop in front of the surprised boy. Up close, the boy is even nicer to look at, Jeongguk thinks to himself as he pants, slightly out of breath. The boy looks at Jeongguk curiously, and when Jeongguk smiles shyly at the boy, the boy’s face breaks out into a smile that makes sun look dull in comparison. The boy’s eyes all but disappear as his chubby cheeks scrunch up, and Jeongguk stares at the boy in awe for a second before blinking rapidly a few times.

“Hi! I’m Jeongguk!” He exclaims. He moves to gesture at the trumpet. “You play the trumpet?! That’s so cool, I play the French horn! You know, we should play our instruments together one day, then play in my sandpit afterwards!”

If possible, the boy’s eyes brighten even more, and his smile stretches until Jeongguk worries slightly that the boy’s mouth might be in pain later. Jeongguk suddenly feels shy and looks down at the pavement, scuffing his toe. He notices the boy’s red converses and thinks to himself that they’re destined to be best friends.

“Jeongguk! Come inside, it’s time for French horn practice!” He hears his mum call from inside. He looks up at the small boy.

“I’m going to practice my French horn, and then I’ll come visit your house, okay? Do you like toy trucks? I have four trucks. You can have one, if you want!” Jeongguk says. “Anyways, I have to go, I’ll see you later, okay?”

The boy nods, his smile unwavering. “Bye Jeonggukie, I’ll see you soon!”

Jeongguk thinks he likes the boy’s voice. It’s high and mellow, and has a certain lilting quality that comforts him. He likes it, but he thinks he might secretly like new nickname the boy gave him a little bit more.

It’s only when Jeongguk runs back to his house, pausing at the front door to wave to the boy that he remembers that he forgot to ask his name.

×

Jeongguk’s face crumples with frustration and annoyance. He licks his lips before bringing his French horn up to his mouth again, and forces himself to concentrate. He manages to get through two bars before his fingers press the wrong keys again, blurting out a note two pitches below what’s supposed to come out, ruining his piece. Jeongguk wants to cry, but he’s not going to, because he’s a big boy and grown-ups don’t cry, so why should Jeongguk?

Except, playing the French horn really is hard, and no matter how hard Jeongguk tries or concentrates, the notes don’t flow out smoothly, and his fingers don’t press the right keys, and Jeongguk tries really, really hard not to get angry at himself, but can’t seem to help the anger that floods through him because how is he meant to become the most famous French hornist in the entire world if he can’t even play this dumb piece?

He stomps his foot in frustration, almost throwing his French horn petulantly. He looks around furtively, making sure his mum is nowhere near him.

“I freaking hate the French horn,” He whispers experimentally to himself.

“Jeon Jeongguk!” His mum’s voice startles him so hard he nearly drops his French horn, and he panics for a minute, wondering if she heard him, and if she’s going to give him the evil eye, like she does with his hyung when he says a naughty word.

“You need to practice harder. You keep making mistakes, sweetie,” His mother says firmly. Jeongguk feels relieved for a minute, before the weight of her words sinks into him, and he can feel himself physically deflating.

He wants to whine, and tell her that it’s too hard and he doesn’t want to do it anymore, because he knows his mum will look at him sternly for a minute before she gives in and lets him play with his toys (or go over to the boy’s house like he’s been begging her for the past hour), but there’s a part of Jeongguk that wants to do better, wants to make his mum proud by being the best French hornist in the entire world, so he just swallows hard, blinking back the stinging tears and nodding.

“Okay, mummy.”          

When she leaves, he quickly scrubs the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes furiously with the back of his hand, before bringing the French horn up to his lips and starting again.  

×

Jeongguk’s playing with his toy trucks when he hears the trumpet playing. The smooth brass sails in from the open window and his head snaps up, his expression alight with curiosity. The boy is really good, Jeongguk thinks (albeit a little grudgingly) to himself. He shuffles closer to the window and he pokes his head out, looking for the source of the sound. The boy’s (Jeongguk decides to dub him Trumpet-Boy until he learns his name) window, right across from Jeongguk’s, is partially open, and he can see Trumpet-Boy playing his trumpet enthusiastically, even swinging the trumpet around for extra flair as he plays a jazzy piece.

He can hear his mum walking up the stairs and Jeongguk dives back to his trucks, before his mum catches him and asks him dumb questions like ‘Jeongguk-ah, were you spying on him? Do you have a crush on him?’  before dissolving into laughter, like she always does (Jeongguk most certainly does not have a crush on Trumpet Boy).

“Jeongguk, that must be your new neighbour, playing the trumpet! I was just talking to his mum then, he’s your hyung-ah, sweetie! Goodness, he’s good at playing the trumpet, isn’t he? See how he’s not making any mistakes?” His mum says, cooing at Trumpet Boy in a way Jeongguk’s so glad she never does to him (he’s not jealous at all).

Jeongguk pokes his head out of the window again. He can see Trumpet-Boy’s brow frowning in concentration and suddenly, Jeongguk thinks that he doesn’t like Trumpet-Boy anymore. Not when he’s better at the Trumpet than Jeongguk is at the French horn, and gets all of his mum’s attention when all Jeongguk gets is a scolding.  

Jeongguk can feel his lips pushing out into an angry pout, his heart stinging from the words of praise coming out of his mum’s mouth that are directed at Trumpet-Boy, not him, and he feels like crying. He always thought those red converses he was wearing were so dumb anyways and yeah, Trumpet-Boy can say goodbye to ever playing in Jeongguk’s sandpit.

He turns around, and when he realises he’s alone in the room, Jeongguk reaches out of the window, waving furiously at the small boy in an attempt to catch his attention. After waving his arms for what seems like forever, Trumpet-Boy finally looks up, his small lips parting in surprise as he sees Jeongguk leaning out the window dangerously, waving his arms furiously at him.

Trumpet-Boy’s face breaks out into a huge smile (Jeongguk thinks it’s the dumbest smile in the whole world now), and Jeongguk’s resolve crumbles a little before he remembers exactly why he needs to do this. He can see Trumpet-Boy about to raise his hand to greet him back but before he can, Jeongguk uses his fingers to pull down the corners of his lips, sticking his tongue out and scrunching his face up in what he’s sure is probably the scariest face Trumpet-Boy’s ever seen. Jeongguk quickly blows a huge raspberry at Trumpet-Boy for extra measure, making sure it’s extra loud. He leans back, snapping the window shut with a sharp click and hides behind the curtain, before peering through the curtains to gauge his reaction.

He can feel an evil surge of satisfaction as he watches Trumpet-Boy’s smile morph into a confused and hurt expression, before his bottom lip trembles, after what seems like a lifetime Trumpet-Boy dissolves into a bout of wails, his tiny fists coming up to scrub at his slowly swelling eyes.

 

Yeah, suck it Trumpet-Boy.

(Jeongguk ignores the tiny pang of guilt that stabs at his heart, because it was Trumpet-Boy’s fault he got all the praise and Jeongguk didn’t get any. If he had just been worse at trumpet than Jeongguk was at French horn, then he wouldn’t have had any problems, and they could’ve been best friends but obviously that’s not happening anymore.)

(Jeongguk’s satisfaction lasts until he hears the doorbell ring five minutes later. He peeks around the staircase and catches sight of the snivelling brat half-hiding behind his mum’s legs, before he runs and hides in his room.

He gets a mighty scolding afterwards and even a smack on his bum, and in that moment, as Jeongguk cries angrily, snot dripping out of his nose onto his tear-stained t-shirt, Jeongguk thinks he finally knows the meaning of hatred.)

 

Chapter 2: In Which Jeongguk Thinks He Has An Arch Nemesis

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

(ii)

Jeongguk is eight years old when he thinks he might have an arch nemesis.

He watches sullenly from the corner he’s currently sulking in as both his parents and Soojin’s parents – the little dongsaeng that lives a few doors down – dote over Trumpet Boy’s trumpeting skills. Honestly, Jeongguk thinks to himself, his small fist clutching his toy truck so hard his knuckles are turning white, Trumpet Boy’s trumpeting skills aren’t that great. Jeongguk’s just as good as French horn, but here he is, all but abandoned by the traitors he once called his parents.

 Jeongguk honestly doesn’t see what all the parents in the neighbourhood see in Trumpet Boy (“Jimin hyung, Jeongguk-ah”). He supposes that Trumpet Boy’s smile is really nice (Jeongguk always has to try his hardest to stay angry when Trumpet Boy is smiling), and he is always kind and friendly to Jeongguk, and the sound of his laughter makes Jeongguk feel all weird inside, like he’s melting (but he thinks it’s just because of the hot Busan weather).

But Jimin hyung – no, Trumpet Boy – is a thief. He’s a thief because he stole Jeongguk’s praise and stole his parents away from him, because seriously, his mum and dad spend more time doting over Trumpet Boy than they do with him – and that’s not okay with Jeongguk.

Besides, it was Jeongguk’s mum who told him to not be friends with thieves and naughty little boys, so technically, he’s just being a good son and listening to his mum, isn’t he?

(Jeongguk ignores the pang in his chest every time he sees Trumpet Boy making friends with all the kids in their neighbourhood, because even if he decides that he hates Trumpet Boy he saw him first, so he sort of belongs to Jeongguk, doesn’t he?)

Jeongguk’s pulled out of his moody reverie when someone plops themselves down in front of him. Jimin hyung’s face is stretched into that dumb smile that looks like it could light up every house in the neighbourhood, and Jeongguk has to tamper down the smile threatening to take over his face with a scowl. He looks away from Trumpet Boy, instead making his toy trucks crash against each other because suddenly he feels shy and weird and tingly.

“Jeonggukkie, do you want to sleep over? Your mum said it was okay! We can make a band and perform songs in front of our parents, and then watch movies and eat ice-cream!” Jimin hyung says, beaming at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk can feel his heart swelling, because no one has ever asked him to a sleepover before. Jeongguk can sometimes hear his parents talking in low voices about Jeongguk worriedly at night, but Jeongguk doesn’t have many friends because he doesn’t want to – the boys are too loud and rough, and the girls are always giggling about something and looking in Jeongguk’s direction. (Jeongguk chooses to ignore the pang of loneliness that echoes through his chest whenever he watches his classmates play at recess, while he sits by himself under the oak tree.) Jeongguk can feel his face stretching out into a smile, because Jimin hyung has lots and lots of friends, he chose Jeongguk to have a sleepover with. 

But then Jeongguk remembers Trumpet Boy is a thief and a naughty boy, and his mouth turns down at the corners into a scowl once more.

“No. Go away.”

Jeongguk watches as Trumpet Boy’s smile drops from his face. As he watches Trumpet Boy valiantly try to prop his smile back in place Jeongguk suddenly feels bad, and wonders if he should’ve said yes. Jimin hyung gives him a little sad smile.

“Oh…Maybe next time, then?”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, instead turning away from Jimin, because he suddenly feels kind of bad and he’s not too sure why. 

(Jeongguk lies in bed that night, and wonders as he clutches his toy trucks to his chest so tightly he thinks they might break, if he should’ve said yes, if not to see Trumpet Boy’s dumb smile beaming down at him.)

(A few nights later, Jeongguk peers out his window and sees Trumpet Boy and Sungjae hyung – Soojin’s older brother – playing in Jimin’s room, jumping on his bed and laughing in their pyjamas, and Jeongguk’s stomach suddenly feels funny. He wonders if it was the cookie he ate earlier.)

×

Jeongguk shouldn’t have underestimated the powers of Trumpet Boy, because a few days later Jeongguk is watching TV when his mum comes up to him.  Jeongguk takes one look at her expression and knows that he’s about to get in trouble or his mum is going to say something and Jeongguk will wish that he was getting into trouble instead.

“So,” Jeongguk’s mum says, casually sitting on the edge of the sofa. Jeongguk looks up at her warily. “Jimin hyung is pretty nice, isn’t he?”

Jeongguk can feel himself bristling. “Omma, he’s not that nice. I’m just as nice, too!”

To his disbelief, she actually laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Jeongguk leans away from her touch scowling, and pats his hair back down. “Yes, darling. You are a very kind boy, aren’t you?”

Jeongguk relaxes ever so slightly. “Yeah, I am!”

“And you have lots of nice things, don’t you?”

Jeongguk doesn’t understand where his mum is going with this – he thinks that maybe she should go to school, because she keeps saying things he already knows, so maybe she’s not as smart as Jeongguk thought she was. “Yes?” He says, frowning.

“You know, when Jimin hyung and his family moved next door they couldn’t bring many things, so Jimin hyung doesn’t have as many nice things as you do,” Jeongguk’s mum says.

Jeongguk really, really doesn’t like where his mum is going with this.

“So…Maybe you should invite Jimin hyung over to play in your sandpit together,” She finally says (Jeongguk’s mum is nervous because her son has inherited the best poker face from her stoic husband, and the blank expression on his tiny, eight year old face is a little terrifying. She readies herself for a no from Jeongguk, but his next question surprises her).

“Omma, do you think I am a nice boy?” He asks. Surprised at the sudden change in conversation, Jeongguk’s mum stares at Jeongguk for a second too long before scrambling to answer him.

“I – yes, darling. I think you are the kindest, most hard-working boy, and your father and I are very lucky that you are our son,” Jeongguk’s mum says earnestly, and Jeongguk’s heart swells at the praise. He supposes that he could let Trumpet Boy play in his sandpit for a while – because it is the best sandpit in the entire neighbourhood.

“Okay then,” He answers quietly.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in front of the Park household, clutching his trucks, and nervously readying himself to ring on the doorbell and ask Trumpet Boy’s mum if Trumpet Boy can come over and play in Jeongguk’s sandpit.

Jeongguk doesn’t really understand why his stomach feels so weird and swoopy, and why his legs are suddenly wobbly because it’s just Trumpet Boy – the boy with dumb smiles that plays their trumpet with too much flair for Jeongguk’s style – but it’s the same stomach-ache he has before he goes on stage to perform his French horn (he’s not really what that means). But Jeongguk’s super brave, and so he raises a hand and rings on the doorbell.

He scowls to himself slightly. Why did his mum make him invite Trumpet Boy? Why couldn’t she have done it herself?

 The door opens then, and Jeongguk plasters a smile on his face because he’s a polite boy and he likes Trumpet Boy’s mum because she’s a nice lady (even if he doesn’t like her son). But Jeongguk’s smile falters slightly and he can feel the panic rising when he comes face to face with Trumpet Boy himself.

Trumpet Boy’s mouth opens in a slight ‘o’, surprise contorting his features, and Jeongguk suddenly feels like running away and hiding in his room for the rest of his life. But then Trumpet Boy’s mouth stretches out into a smile so big that Jeongguk thinks he could count all of his teeth, and his eyes look like the most sunshiney rainbow eyes Jeongguk’s ever seen (but he won’t ever tell him that).

“Jeonggukkie!” Trumpet Boy exclaims happily, reaching over to ruffle Jeongguk’s hair. Jeongguk scowls, but he doesn’t duck away, because somehow it doesn’t feel as bad when Trumpet Boy does it. “Do you want to come inside? I think Sailor Moon is on, do you want to watch it together?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen, because no, he most certainly does not want to watch Sailor Moon (he won’t ever tell anyone, but he’ll go home and turn on Sailor Moon and watch twenty minutes of it in awed silence, before Jeongguk’s dumb hyung walks in and catches Jeongguk watching Sailor Moon with eyes the size of saucers and bursts out laughing, making Jeongguk cry with embarrassment and annoyance).

No,” He splutters out indignantly.

Trumpet Boy laughs, and crosses his arms across his chest. “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“Do you…” Jeongguk trails off, looking down. Why is he suddenly so shy? This is Trumpet Boy, the dumb boy with eyes that laugh at Jeongguk, and tiny, soft hands that are nearly half the size of Jeongguks’, but somehow Jeongguk is flustered and jittery and he doesn’t know why (even the girls at his school don’t make him feel this weird).

“Yeah?” Trumpet Boy prompts him gently.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow and play in my sandpit with me? We can build sandcastles together…if you want,” Jeongguk mumbles, peeking up at Trumpet Boy through his eyelashes.

Trumpet Boy’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile that looks so impossibly fond and Jeongguk finds that he can’t look away from Trumpet Boy’s face, because Trumpet Boy’s eyes are so sparkly, like someone’s gone and put thousands and thousands of stars inside them.

“I would really like that,” Trumpet Boy says softly.

Jeongguk swallows hard. “I – yeah, okay, uh, don’t be late!”

Then he runs back to his house, nearly tripping up the stairs in his haste to get into his house (he thinks he can hear Trumpet Boy’s tinkling laugh, but he refuses to look back just in case Trumpet Boy sees how red he is.)

(That night, Jeongguk practices talking to Trumpet Boy in front of the mirror, because he’s not going to look dumb and stupid and go red and stutter, like he did when he was inviting him over. Because Trumpet Boy is the dumb one, and Jeongguk’s the smart, cool one, so he needs to live up to his reputation.

Jeongguk pretends not to know that the reason why he’s smiling so much when he goes to sleep that night is because of a boy who plays the trumpet with way too much flair.)

×

The next morning, Jeongguk wakes up at 5.53am (he tells himself it’s because he always wakes up this early, and ignores the fact that he’s never woken earlier than 8am – even when he’s going to school).

He’s washed, eaten breakfast, changed his clothes, brushed his hair and watched another episode of Sailor Moon (but he did that in secret) by the time it’s 7am and is now impatiently waiting for Trumpet Boy to come over, sitting down on the bench underneath the window in his room. But Jeongguk is incredibly stubborn and refuses to budge, so Jeongguk stays by the window, waiting for Trumpet Boy.

At 8.12am he can hear his mum get up and shuffle around in the kitchen sleepily, turning on the coffee machine and yawning loudly.

At 8.23am he can hear his dad joining his mum in the kitchen, and he can hear them talking in quiet voices, (and he thinks he even hears them kissing, but he refuses to think about that because that is so gross).

At 8.46am he can hear his mum waking his hyung up for the tutoring lessons he attends on Saturday mornings and his hyung groaning in protest.

At 8.49am his mum comes to his room to grab his dirty laundry, starting slightly when she spots Jeongguk sitting by the window, completely dressed with his hair brushed (Jeongguk’s mum is confused because Jeongguk has never brushed his hair a day in his life or woken up this early on a Saturday morning his entire life).

At 9.14am he watches his dad shepherd out his grumpy hyung and get into the car. Jeongguk raises his hand and waves furiously at his dad and brother, grinning when his dad catches the gesture and waves back just as enthusiastically (his hyung just ignores Jeongguk, but Jeongguk doesn’t care because his brother is grumpier than the Oscar in Sesame Street in the mornings).

At 9.27am Jeongguk sees the blinds in Trumpet Boy’s room being raised slowly, and sees a sleepy Trumpet Boy opening the window (Jeongguk dives behind the curtain because he doesn’t want Trumpet Boy to think he’s spying, because he doesn’t even care about Trumpet Boy. He thinks Trumpet Boy’s sleep ruffled hair and half-open eyes are super funny, and not even the tiniest bit cute).

And finally, finally, at 9.58am he spots Trumpet Boy and his mum leaving their house (Jeongguk later gets annoyed when he finds out that his mum called Trumpet Boy’s mum and asked them to come at 10am).

When he sees them coming up his walkway he scrambles off the bench and runs downstairs, only slowing down slightly when he nearly slips on the wooden floors. He flings the front door open, revealing a startled Trumpet Boy and his equally startled mum.

He immediately bows to Trumpet Boy’s mum (because he’s a polite boy) and when he meets Trumpet Boy’s excited gaze, he can feel his stomach feeling weird and swoopy again. Luckily, his mum comes up behind him then, and Trumpet Boy and his mum avert their attention to his mum.

“Welcome! Come in, come in!” His mum says happily, ruffling Trumpet Boy’s hair as he walks in, and immediately engaging Trumpet Boy’s mum in a conversation the moment she steps foot into their house.

“Hi Jimin hyung,” Jeongguk says shyly.

“Hi, Jeonggukkie!”

“Do you…Do you want to come play outside in the sandpit, then?” Jeongguk asks. Trumpet Boy nods happily. 

The duo makes their way outside to Jeongguk’s sandpit, and Jeongguk quietly listens to Trumpet Boy’s excited chatter as he tells Jeongguk all the things he wants to build in Jeongguk’s sandpit.

“Hey, let’s build sandcastles!” Trumpet Boy suggests, and Jeongguk silently cackles to himself because Jeongguk is the best at building sandcastles, and oh boy, when Jeongguk builds the best sandcastle for Trumpet Boy, he will want to be Jeongguk’s best friend forever (and Jeongguk might even consider forgiving him for being a thief).

So the two boys build their respective sandcastles, and Jeongguk finds himself concentrating harder than he’s ever concentrated to build the best sandcastle ever (he plans to tell Trumpet Boy that he’s called it Jimin Hyung’s Castle). He even goes out and tries to find leaves for the flags and even contemplates bringing water into the sandpit for the moat – and he hates getting his sandpit wet.

He listens quietly as Trumpet Boy talks about everything and nothing, because even though Jeongguk also has a lot to say, he doesn’t really know how to say things without going red and dumb in front of Trumpet Boy (even though he practiced for ages in front of the mirror). So for now he’s content with listening Trumpet Boy talking happily about his favourite ice-cream flavour (it’s rocky-road, which incidentally, is Jeongguk’s too).

Jeongguk’s so proud of his sandpit; it’s by far the best sandpit he’s ever made – it’s tall, and it’s got flags, and a moat, and even a (albeit wobbly) turret. Jeongguk preens as he gazes down at his castle, because now Trumpet Boy will have to like Jeongguk better than all the girls and boys in their neighbourhood. Jeongguk thinks that once he and Trumpet Boy are best friends, then maybe the other boys and girls will stop running away from him, and maybe even want to play with him too – even though he knows they already want to be friends with him and it’s just his decision not to be friends with them, of course.

He sneaks a glance over to Trumpet Boy’s castle, and is satisfied when he sees that its nowhere as big as Jeongguk’s – it means that Trumpet Boy will love Jeongguk’s even more when he tells him that it’s called Jimin Hyung’s Castle. Trumpet Boy looks up at him then, laughing and smiling, and Jeongguk looks away so fast he nearly falls head-first into his castle.

“Woah, Jeonggukkie, your castle is huge,” Trumpet Boy says in awe. “Have you finished already? I’ve nearly finished mine too! I just need to find some twigs for my gate! Afterwards, let’s play knights and we can pretend that these are our castles, okay?”

Jeongguk nods, scrunching his nose up and smiling and Trumpet Boy laughs, ruffling his hair (Jeongguk decides that he’s only ever going to let Trumpet Boy ruffle his hair). Jeongguk’s in the process of wondering whether once they become best friends Jeongguk will have to start referring to Trumpet Boy as Jimin hyung when it happens.

Trumpet Boy reaches over Jeongguk’s castle for a stick lying near Jeongguk’s castle. When he finds he can’t reach it, he leans further, before his hand slips and he falls. To Jeongguk’s horror, Trumpet Boy’s hand flies out and knocks over his turret (which he spent ages on), as well as knocking down another part of his castle that he spent so long working on.

Jeongguk can feel his bottom lip trembling because he worked so hard to make the best sandcastle so that Trumpet Boy would be his best friend and now that Trumpet Boy’s gone and ruined everything, he’ll never want to be friends with him anymore. Jeongguk suddenly feels furious, and he can’t help but standing up and pointing an accusatory finger at Trumpet Boy, his face scrunched up with anger and the effort of not crying.

“You…You did that on purpose!” Jeongguk cries angrily. “Why did you do that?! I worked so hard on that!”

Trumpet Boy looks dismayed, and he stands up, his bottom lip wobbling. “Jeonggukkie, I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t mean to ruin it, it was an accident, I promise! Here, let me make it better, I’ll fix it!”

Then, to Jeongguk’s absolute horror, Trumpet Boy actually scoops some sand from his own sandcastle and dumps it onto Jeongguk’s mangled castle, trying to pat it in place and fix it up. In Jeongguk’s eyes, he’s not doing anything at all to fix things up; in fact, he’s making things worse.

Jeongguk pushes Trumpet Boy away from his ruined castle. He’s so angry and upset because this was meant to be the best sandcastle for Trumpet Boy, and then Trumpet Boy had to go ruin it, like how he always ruins everything.

“Stop that!” Jeongguk yells furiously. He can’t help the angry and frustrated tears that well up and spill onto his cheeks, and Trumpet Boy looks so helpless, but Jeongguk’s so angry he can’t really bring himself to feel bad. He scrubs the tears away with the back of his hand. “Y-You always ruin everything! You’re a thief and a ruiner, and your shoes are so dumb and I’m good at the French horn too, but you went and stole everything!”

Jeongguk shoves Trumpet Boy roughly who falls with a cry, landing on his castle. He sucks in a breath because now he’s ruined Trumpet Boy’s castle, and Trumpet Boy will never, ever want to his be friend anymore. Trumpet Boy looks alarmed for a minute, before he stands up angrily, brushing the sand off himself.

“I said I was sorry!” Trumpet Boy yells back, and Jeongguk steps back, alarmed. He’s never seen Trumpet Boy anything other than happy and smiley (and crying), and Jeongguk feels intimidated by the sudden fire in Trumpet Boy’s eyes. “I’m sorry Jeonggukkie, okay?! But you didn’t have to push me and call me a thief and ruiner, because I’m not! I’ve never stolen anything in my entire life!”

As he’s talking, Trumpet Boy kicks Jeongguk’s sand castle angrily, and the remaining parts of the castle crumble. Jeongguk’s eyes widen.

“What the heck!

(Jeongguk knows that he’ll probably get into trouble for swearing, but he thinks that this situation warrants a swearword.)

Then, Jeongguk flings himself at Trumpet Boy.

×

By the time the two mothers rush outside to pull apart their sons, both boys are bawling their eyes out, screaming at each other whilst wrestling aggressively in the sandpit.

Jeongguk, so blinded by his anger (and the tears streaming down his face) almost doesn’t want to stop fighting Trumpet Boy, because he wants Trumpet Boy to feel as much pain as he possibly can for ruining his sandcastle and stealing his praise.

And as Jeongguk is yanked harshly away from the snivelling brat, barely listening to his mum as she yells at him, he’s completely, absolutely, utterly sure that he hates, hates, hates Trumpet Boy, and Trumpet Boy can wave goodbye to being Jeongguk’s best friend, because they’re never, ever going to be best friends anymore. In fact, Jeongguk thinks that Trumpet Boy might actually be his arch nemesis, placed on this earth to make Jeongguk’s life miserable and hard. (He doesn’t forget to pull the ugliest face he can manage at Trumpet Boy as he is dragged inside the house.)

(Jeongguk’s hatred for Trumpet Boy is later amplified tenfold when he’s forced to take a shower to wash out all the sand that’s somehow made its way to Jeongguk’s hair, legs, arms, and even the sand that’s somehow managed to make its way to the crevices of Jeongguk’s butt.)

 

Notes:

AY CARUMBA [dramatic music]

sorry for uploading this when u were asleep abby
in my defense i /did/ tell you, u just...didn't reply bc u were sleeping....

(ily)

Chapter 3: In Which Jeongguk Finally Ditches Trumpet Boy

Notes:

for my smol bean; i'm so glad your surgery went well bbygal. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و rooting for you always ♥

and abby, i am once again uploading this while ur sleeping bc i like to see u suffer :-------) and also bc i havent forgiven u from last night u FUCKING THIEF (jimin)

(on a side note: i don't play any instruments so i'm pretty clueless when it comes to instruments. that being said i googled 'hard french horn pieces to play' and SO ITS BULLSHIT. I DONT KNOW IF SIXTEEN YEAR OLDS CAN PLAY THOSE PIECES BUT IMAGINE ME GENTLY CARESSING YOUR HEAD WHISPERING 'just go with it' INTO UR EAR)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

(iii)

Jeongguk is sixteen when he finally gets rid of Trumpet Boy, thank fuck.

No!” He whines petulantly. “I would rather break my French Horn than walk myself to the house of the devil himself and congratulate him. Omma, do you want to see your favourite son suffer at the hands of the devil?”

Jeongguk’s mum glares at him with so much venom that Jeongguk is instantly reminded that Jeongguk’s mum is top dog of the Jeon household, whilst Jeongguk remains at the very bottom of the food chain, insignificant and inferior to the likes of his mother's home cooking and arguing skills that rival that of a lawyer. He shrinks back slightly, withering under her infamous death glare.

“Jeon Jeongguk, do not test me. You will go to Jimin hyung’s house and you will congratulate him, because God help me I will not let you back into the house until you do. Got it?”

Jeongguk scowls, before nodding sullenly. When his mum turns around he makes a face at her, using his fingers to pull his lips down into an ugly grimace (because he’s not below making ugly faces at his mother when she’s not looking). He drags his feet slowly along the ground as he walks towards the front door, trying to slow his up and coming death-by-humiliation.

He doesn’t understand why his stupid mum finds it so fucking necessary to force Jeongguk to congratulate his arch nemesis on winning some stupid competition with his stupid trumpet – he knows that Trumpet Boy is just doing it for the money; If he’s said it once, he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it once more: Trumpet Boy is a no-good thief with no appreciation for class and sophistication (he wears snapbacks sideways, for fucks’ sake. Seriously, Jeongguk doesn't understand how someone so proletariat like that is so popular at his school.)

But despite Jeongguk’s valiant (and slightly desperate) attempts to stall his impending doom, the gods that decide Jeongguk's fate must be having a fucking field day making Jeongguk’s life a living hell, because he finds himself standing in front of Trumpet Boy’s house, one hand clenched tightly around a bouquet of flowers (wilting slightly under Jeongguk’s vice grip), and the other raised in a fist, ready to knock on the door.

He contemplates ditching the flowers somewhere and sneaking back to his house, but he knows that his mum will somehow find out using her Korean Mothers Networking skills, and drag him to Trumpet Boy's house by his ear and stand next to him, glowering down at him as he forces out a ‘congratulations’ with his mother standing next to him. But Jeongguk is a man with pride and dignity, and it takes him six minutes to swallow his pride and knock on the door to congratulate the boy he hates so much and pretend like he actually means it. He can feel his heart jumping up to his throat as he raps on the door with his knuckles.

He waits eight agonising seconds, before deciding that if no one answers the door in the next two seconds, he'll leave and try to convince his mum that no one was home (he knows that his mum will use her Korean Mothers Networking skills to discover that someone was probably home, but in this moment Jeongguk thinks that he's willing to suffer the consequences). But it seems that the higher powers are having none of that because the door swings open, and suddenly he's face to face with the spawn of Satan itself, dressed in its full Spawn of Satan attire – an oversized, ratty T-shirt, and a pair of boxers that are an insulting shade neon pink (they're tighter and smaller than the speedos his dad wears when he goes swimming, and Jeongguk contemplates running headfirst into a brick wall to erase the image of Trumpet Boy in speedos from his mind.)

Jeongguk steels himself and looks in Trumpet Boy's (slightly confused) face, readying himself to spit out a 'congratulations' faster than Eminem raps and get the fuck out of there, but his Arch Nemesis Trumpet Boy must conspire behind his back with his mum and the gods that decide that Jeongguk's fate, because as he stares into Trumpet Boy's annoyingly open face, he can feel his congratulatory rap getting lodged in his throat, and in his haste to get his words out, ends up spraying spit all over Trumpet Boy's face.

Jeongguk watches in horror as Trumpet Boy wipes away a particularly large spit bubble that's landed on his left cheek, and can feel his face heating up when Trumpet Boy's mildly disgusted and confused face contorts into one of amusement. Trumpet Boy bursts out laughing, and doubles over laughing at Jeongguk's mortified expression, and Jeongguk wonders if it's possible to die from burning to death from the heat in his face.

"Oh my god, Jeongguk I – " Trumpet Boy breaks off in another bout of laughter, and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, praying to the higher powers for strength and dignity, because his seems to be hanging on by a thread.

Jeongguk clears his throat roughly, and waits impatiently for Trumpet Boy to get a hold of himself. After what seems like a lifetime of watching Trumpet Boy laugh rudely into his face, Trumpet Boy finally straightens up, wiping his tear-streaked cheeks. Honestly, Jeongguk thinks to himself as he watches Trumpet Boy breathe in deeply in an attempt to calm down, who the fuck does this muppet think he is?

"Sorry, sorry. I just – oh my god. Jeonggukkie, seriously, you make me laugh so much," Trumpet Boy finally says.

Jeongguk huffs. "It wasn't my fault, there was something stuck in my throat."

"Yeah, of course," Trumpet Boy says cheekily. "Anyways, what's up?"

"I just…"

"Yeah?"

Jeongguk thrusts the slightly crushed bouquet into Trumpet Boy's surprised arms.

 "Congratulations on winning that competition, hyung," he mutters, looking away. He turns away from Trumpet Boy – who's frozen in surprise, his lips forming an 'O' shape – ready to bolt to his house and never, ever show his face, but just as he starts getting ready to sprint down the stairs, a small, firm hand grabs his T-shirt, effectively stopping his escape. Jeongguk wants to curse the skies like an angry, bitter old man, shaking his fists angrily towards the sky and shouting 'Why?! Why me?!' but he's sixteen, not sixty-six, so  instead he settles for glowering at Trumpet Boy and cursing his fast dancer reflexes (Jeongguk had been visiting a friend at his dance school when he had walked in on Trumpet Boy doing a shoulder roll. Jeongguk likes to think that the reason why he thinks about that day on a day-to-day basis is because he's scarred by Trumpet Boy's god-awful shoulder rolls and the fact that someone as lame as Trumpet Boy could possibly be a dancer).

"Hey, where are you going?" Trumpet Boy asks, a confused expression on his face like he doesn’t know Jeongguk wants to fight him on a daily basis. 

"I'm going…home?"

"Come in while I put these flowers in some water! Stay for an episode of Sailor Moon, at least." Trumpet Boy laughs at Jeongguk's scowl at the mention of Sailor Moon (he's still traumatised from that one time his brother had laughed at him for watching it).

Trumpet Boy turns and walks in the general direction of the kitchen, leaving Jeongguk standing awkwardly in the doorway. Jeongguk hurries reluctantly after Trumpet Boy, shutting the front door behind him, silently mourning the safety of his home a few metres away. He follows Trumpet Boy into the kitchen, and watches silently as Trumpet Boy bustles around the kitchen, chatting endlessly about the stupid competition Jeongguk has no interest in (he actually is quite interested in it, but he'd rather smash his French Horn than admit that), and arranging the flowers Jeongguk brought in a crystal vase. He watches as Trumpet Boy places the vase in the middle of the sideboard in the living room, unable to suppress the little smug smile, because hell yeahcentrepiece for my fucking flowers.

Trumpet Boy turns to Jeongguk, a small knowing smile on his face (Jeongguk's not too sure what Trumpet Boy thinks he knows, because he knows for a fact that Trumpet Boy's knowledge is limited to: knowing how to make Jeongguk's life a living hell and playing the trumpet with way too much flair. Oh, and also awful, jerky shoulder rolls that are not at all in any way seductive and fluid.)

"C'mon, I think Sailor Moon's about to start."

Jeongguk splutters, because who in this day and age watches Sailor Moon? Apparently the answer to that question is Trumpet Boy, because he seems to be dead serious when he drags Jeongguk up the stairs and to his room.

Ah, Jeongguk thinks to himself as he is unceremoniously dragged into Trumpet Boy's room. The devil's lair.

Jeongguk looks around Trumpet Boy's room with a little more interest than he's used to showing when he's around Trumpet Boy (which is more often than he'd like, because for some reason, Jeongguk's and Trumpet Boy's mum get along like a house on fire, and every time Jeongguk's mum invites Trumpet Boy's mum over for a Korean Mum's Gossip Session, Trumpet Boy tags along and invites himself into Jeongguk's house like he owns the fucking place), because despite the fact Trumpet Boy has been inside Jeongguk's room more times than he can count, this is the first time he's entered the devil's lair.

To Jeongguk's surprise, it's nicer than most room he's been in (which isn't many, seeing as he can count the amount of friends he has on one hand). It's (almost) as big as Jeongguk's room, and a large, neatly made queen sized bed taking up most of the space. A music stand, covered in sheets of complicated looking pieces stands in front of the window opposite to Jeongguk's room, along with the golden trumpet that rests proudly on its case directly beneath the music stand. A white bookcase and a matching desk, covered with books, pens, and candy wrappers sit next to the music stand. Across from Trumpet Boy's bed is a large drawer, and balanced on top is a TV. Littered underneath the drawer are various game consoles, the wires all tangled together. Jeongguk feels slightly disappointed at the niceness of the room, because where the chains and whips and tortured souls at though?

"Huh?" Jeongguk turns around to see Trumpet Boy scrunching his nose up in confusion, and Jeongguk's heart leaps into his throat when he realises belatedly that he's spoken out loud about chains and whips in front of Trumpet Boy.

He scrambles to cover up his mistake. "I, um, asked if this episode of Sailor Moon was the one where Queen Beryl used chains to torture…souls." He trails off towards the end of the sentence awkwardly when he sees Trumpet Boy staring at him with an unreadable expression, and Jeongguk is on the verge of trying to justify himself when Trumpet Boy finally answers.

"I…don't think so? I can check for you, if you want?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks," Jeongguk stammers, still recovering from the mini heart attack. Trumpet Boy smiles and scoops up the laptop sitting on his bed and opens it, typing something into the Google search bar. Jeongguk almost feels bad at how nice Trumpet Boy is to him, when he had been thinking about the chained souls he was sure Trumpet Boy was hiding in his room literally two minutes ago (read: almost. He doesn't forget how evil Trumpet Boy is). Jeongguk turns away from Trumpet Boy, and finds himself drifting towards the bookcase.

He runs his fingers over several photo-frames that litter one of the shelves on the bookcase, his eyes wandering over a photo of Trumpet Boy hugging a small puppy, his eyes shining with happiness, and a photo of Trumpet Boy and his family. Jeongguk's fingers pause at the third photo and he picks up the photo frame gingerly, his brows furrowed slightly. It's a photo of Jeongguk and Trumpet Boy, Trumpet Boy's arm slung casually over Jeongguk's shoulders while Jeongguk looks at Trumpet Boy, surprise colouring his face.

Jeongguk remembers this day well – it was Trumpet Boy's 14th birthday party, and despite the many times Jeongguk had pleaded his mum, she had dragged him by his ear to the party, insisting that he had to at least say happy birthday to his 'best friend' (Jeongguk had scoffed so hard at that, he could almost feel the phlegm in his throat coming back up, Because Jeongguk? Best friends with Trumpet Boy? On which planet had that been deemed okay?). Jeongguk had felt distinctly out of place and had spent the entirety of the party sulking in the corner of Trumpet Boy's background, whilst he watched Trumpet Boy run around happily with his friends. Honestly, he had thought to himself. What had even been the point of inviting Jeongguk if he was going to ditch him for his stupid friends?  Jeongguk had felt a pang of jealousy rise in his chest as he watched Trumpet Boy laughing and joking around, surrounded by a large group of friends, because if Jeongguk was being completely honest with himself, he was technically Trumpet Boy's oldest friend – they had known each other for six years, for crying out loud – and thought that Trumpet Boy should pay him, his oldest friend, some more attention. But alas, there he had been, sulking in the corner by himself, nursing a glass of coke, and glaring at anyone who came in a two metre radius. It was then Trumpet Boy had run over to Jeongguk, carelessly flinging an arm around Jeongguk's shoulder and letting out a 'Jeonggukkie! I'm so happy you came!' , and Jeongguk, surprised (and a little grateful), had only managed to choke out a laugh.

Jeongguk's traces his fingers over twelve year old Jeongguk's face, biting his lip slightly at the genuine happiness painted on his face. He swallows hard.

"So this episode doesn't have anything to do with whips or anything, so I'm not sure where you – " Trumpet Boy startles slightly at the way Jeongguk spins around, his expression intense in the way Jimin thinks Jeongguk might punch him or kiss him. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Jeongguk looks confused. "I just didn't know you had this photo, that's all."

He moves to the side slightly, and Trumpet Boy squints slightly, before he relaxes. "Oh, yeah! It's my favourite photo of us. Usually the photos we take together usually consist of at least one of us crying, so I thought this photo was nice."

Trumpet Boy goes onto saying some other sentimental crap, but by then Jeongguk has stopped listening, his eyes (and attention) instead fix themselves on the shelf above Trumpet Boy's bed. Trumpet Boy, who finally catches onto the fact that Jeongguk stopped listening after 'favourite photo of us', follows Jeongguk's shocked gaze to his trophy shelf above his bed.

"How…how many trophies do you have?"

(If he's being completely honest, Jimin's just the teeniest, tiniest bit worried by the fire blazing in Jeongguk's eyes, but by this point, he's kind of used to the overly competitive and confusing ways of Jeon Jeongguk.) "Um, I think fourteen? No wait, I guess now I have fifteen. Why?"

Jeongguk feels almost dizzy, like he's in one of those badly filmed movies where they zoom into the protagonist’s face dramatically, because when the fuck did Trumpet Boy overtake him in the trophy department? Jeongguk swears to all the based gods that just last week Trumpet Boy had been on a pathetic five for his trophy count, while Jeongguk had been proudly preening, polishing all of his twelve trophies. And now, here he is, three fucking trophies short of being better than Trumpet Boy musically (because let's be real – Trumpet Boy will never beat Jeongguk in the sexiness department, even with those deadly shoulder rolls of his).

"Hyung, I have…I have to go home now," Jeongguk stammers, genuinely shocked.

"Huh? What about Sailor Moon?"

Jeongguk ignores the way his heart clenches at Trumpet Boy's hurt and confused expression (he thinks he might be getting heartburn from bbibbimbbap he had for lunch earlier), and bolts out of Trumpet Boy's room, thundering down the stairs with the grace of an elephant, wrenching the front door open and swinging it behind him with a slam. He runs back to his house faster than what seems physically possible. He ignores his mum, who calls out a confused, "Jeongguk? Is that you?", barely slowing down to wrench his bedroom door open. He stands in front of his French Horn, breathing heavily, and glares furiously at the pathetic twelve trophies on the shelf near his music stand.

Yeah, he supposes twelve is a nice number. Because like, Jesus had twelve disciples, and there have been twelve people to walk on the moon, and there are twelve months in a year, but twelve is still three less than fifteen, Trumpet Boy's (infuriatingly outstanding) number of trophies, and Jeongguk kind of wants to give up on life, but also kind of wants to practice until his lips are blue and he passes out from the lack of oxygen.

So naturally, he settles for the latter.

(Because fuck you Trumpet Boy, Jeongguk's coming for you and your fifteen trophies.)

×

Its 1.32am when Jeongguk deems himself done for the day (he had stopped exactly four times: once for dinner, twice for a toilet break, and one for a secret Sailor Moon break, because fuck you society, Sailor Moon is interesting and fun and Jeongguk refuses to conform to societal norms).

He lies in bed, aimlessly flicking through his Instagram feed, methodically checking all of his social media platforms, because even though he refuses to conform to societal norms in terms of watching anime targeted at young girls, he's still a teenage boy and has an extremely social life he needs to catch up on (and by extremely social life he means stalking other people's social lives). After he skims through all 120 photos of Sungjae hyung’s eighteenth birthday party (no, he most certainly did not look for the photos Trumpet Boy was in, what the fuck), and finds himself on Trumpet Boy’s cousins’ girlfriend’s sister’s friend’s Instagram page, he deems himself done for the day and places his phone on the bedside table, wriggling around to get into a more comfortable sleeping position.

He’s on the verge of falling asleep when he hears it. His eyes snap open and he cocks his head slightly to the side, thanking the gods that he’s been blessed with sensitive ears (as a musician and artiste he can’t really afford not to have sensitive ears). And oh boy, there it is. Louis Armstrong's West End Blues, played with a flair he knows can only belong to his arch nemesis, the devil boy Park Jimin. Suddenly, Jeongguk feels infuriated because first and foremost, how dare he interrupt Jeongguk's precious sleeping time and secondly, because Jeongguk knows for a fact that this piece is extremely difficult to play and the fact that Trumpet Boy plays it with such ease makes Jeongguk want to really give him a piece of his mind.

In true, overly competitive Jeon Jeongguk style, he leaps out of his bed so fast his head spins, running over to his French Horn and flipping through his music book furiously until he finds Beethoven's Symphony No. 3, a piece he knows will serve as a 'fuck you' served cold with a side of 'get ready to have your ass whooped'. Jeongguk pauses, before leaning over and raising the blinds slightly. And sure enough, Trumpet Boy stands in front of his window, playing the trumpet enthusiastically, flinging it about ridiculously in the way that only Trumpet Boy call pull off (because it's so freaking lame). Jeongguk can feel his lip curling back into a sneer, and he moves his music stand so that it's in front of the window. Bringing the French Horn to his lips, he blasts the horn as loudly as humanely possible, even bopping his head a little to get that extra flair Trumpet Boy seems to love so much (Jeongguk feels an almost overwhelming rage upon discovering that no, he cannot wave his fucking French Horn around as enthusiastically as Trumpet Boy, because the French Horn is firstly a manly instrument, and secondly because it’s pretty fucking heavy).

Jeongguk can feel the smug satisfaction rising as he watches Trumpet Boy's trumpet playing falter slightly. He watches as Trumpet Boy lowers his trumpet, frowning in confusion, before looking up towards Jeongguk's window. Jeongguk's satisfaction drains away and is replaced with a growing panic when their gazes meet, and Jeongguk can feel his mouth growing dry at the fire visible in Trumpet Boy's eyes even from where Jeongguk is currently standing. But the smugness returns as quickly as it had disappeared, and he watches as Trumpet Boy looks back down at his music sheets, flipping through them, because Jeongguk doubts that even Trumpet Boy is on a level where he can trump (Jeongguk cackles silently to himself at his brilliant pun) Beethoven.

But apparently, Trumpet Boy can trump Jeongguk, because Trumpet Boy decides to prolong Jeongguk's anguish and suffering by one-upping him with Haydn's Trumpet Concerto in E Flat. When Jeongguk hears Trumpet Boy playing Haydn, Jeongguk contemplates giving up on life because for fuck's sake, who does this kid think he is? Who in their right mind plays Haydn at the tender age of eighteen? Shouldn’t Trumpet Boy be going through his 'let's get wild' phase and egg houses and drink cheap beer for no good reason? (Jeongguk may be the teeniest, tiniest bit relieved that Trumpet Boy isn't one of those kids but that's only on days that end with the letter 'Y', so it's fine).  He wonders if it's possible to die from the blood that seems to be boiling in his veins, because oh boy, does Trumpet Boy know how to get on every single one of his nerves.

As he can hear (and feel – Jeongguk feels this in his artiste soul) his French Horn stutter and slowly putter out as Trumpet Boy begins playing the piece that'll probably accompany Jeongguk on his way down to hell (or up to heaven, he's not all that picky), and Jeongguk can feel himself fuming as he watches Trumpet Boy smugly play motherfucking Haydn. Jeongguk thinks he might actually have an aneurysm when Trumpet Boy catches his glare, unfazed by the infamous death glare (inherited from his mum) that would send any other sane person keeling to their knees in sheer terror, and actually winks at Jeongguk.

wink? Jeongguk doesn't think so. Not on his fucking watch. No one winks at Jeongguk without his consent in such an infuriating and insulting manner and gets away with it.

"Fucking…I'll teach you…" Jeongguk furiously mutters to himself while he flicks through his music book. Yeah, Trumpet Boy might be able to play Haydn, one of the greatest trumpeters to ever exist, but can he play Tchaikovsky's Symphony No.5? On a French fucking Horn? Yeah, Jeongguk doesn't think so either.

Jeongguk can't really remember the last time he's concentrated so hard or intensely whilst playing the French Horn, but he's not about to stop now, not when he can see Trumpet Boy struggling to keep up with his lame-ass trumpet.

Jeongguk’s only really starting to get into it when it all comes crashing down. His mum crashes into his room, making Jeongguk jump three metres into the air, her eyes alight with an anger she usually reserves for when Jeongguk’s dad when he says something stupid, or for Jeongguk’s hyung when she catches him sneaking in at 2am in the morning. As the baby and crown jewel of the Jeon household, Jeongguk’s never actually experienced the true ferocity of his mother’s anger in the wee hours of the morning until now.

At her tiny height of 5’1, with a light blue, fuzzy bathrobe wrapped around her petite body and glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose, Jeongguk is sure that he has never encountered something so truly terrifying in his entire life.

“And what,” his mother says calmly (Jeongguk isn’t fooled; he can see her clenched fists and the jumping muscle in her jaw). “In God’s name are you doing up, at 1.49am in the morning, playing your French Horn?!

Jeongguk can feel Trumpet Boy’s eyes on him, and tries not to cower. “I – uh, practising?”

“Practising? Practising?! Jeon Jeongguk, if you don’t go to sleep right this instant, I will take away your computer, phone, and game consoles for a month! Then you’ll really have all the time in the world to practice your French Horn! Go to sleep, now!”

She leaves with a flourish, leaving behind a trail of flowery perfume and anger in her wake. He stands in shock for a few minutes, before turning to face Trumpet Boy sheepishly. Much to his annoyance, Trumpet Boy is laughing so hard he can barely stand up, leaning heavily against his music stand, his eyes shut and head thrown back as he laughs so heartily Jeongguk is pretty sure he can hear him from where he’s standing.

Jeongguk tries hard to be annoyed, he really does, but he supposes it is kind of funny. He bites down on his lip and furrows his brows, trying to maintain a sulky expression. But the way Trumpet Boy laughs, void of malice, but rather full of amusement makes it hard for Jeongguk to stay annoyed, and he can feel the corners of his lips lifting up, and soon he’s laughing so hard he can feel tears snaking down his cheeks.

It feels good, laughing genuinely for absolutely no reason. And when Jeongguk and Trumpet Boy lock gazes from across their houses, their cheeks aching and their eyes shining with mirth, Jeongguk thinks that maybe, just maybe, Trumpet Boy isn’t all that bad after all.

×

Jeongguk chews on his bottom lip anxiously, staring at the little notification in his e-mail. He presses his fingertips together and leans forward, heart thumping as he reads the words: Seoul Performing Arts Academy over and over again.

It’s the maybe acceptance and maybe rejection letter in response to the scholarship he’s applied for – he had constructed 2,500 words of bullshit (or a critical essay) in hopes of winning the prestigious scholarship, because then he at least he was one step closer to becoming a famous French Hornist and blowing out a big fat ‘fuck you’ to all the boys in his school that made fun of him (hopefully while he wears a tuxedo that costs more than their yearly pay-checks).

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and lets out a blood curdling scream, double-clicking on the e-mail and scanning through it so quickly he feels nauseous, all whilst continuously screaming at the top of his lungs. When his parents and hyung burst into his room, his door ricocheting off the wall with a loud bang, he turns to meet their frightened, panicked gazes with a blank stare.

“Jeongguk, baby, what’s wrong?” His mum asks, distressed.

“I…” Jeongguk pauses, wondering how to explain how he feels. Then his eyes go wide with the realisation and he jumps up out of his chair and screams at the top of his lungs, “I fucking did it! I got in! I got in!”

His mum screams in response and jumps around with him, while his hyung slumps onto Jeongguk’s bed, muttering something about a heart attack, and his dad stands silently by the door, amused.

Jeongguk feels like his heart could explode with happiness, and suddenly, all the callouses he had developed over time, all the tears he had shed in frustration when he was unable to follow a tune correctly seem insignificant as he stares at the congratulatory words that stare back at him from his computer.



 

 

When the Parks come over for a congratulatory dinner, Jeongguk tries to tame his unhindered smile into a more nonchalant expression. When Trumpet Boy comes and sits by him to play Mario Kart, he can’t help the smugness that seems to exude from every one of his pores.

“So…” He (tries to) feign casualness. “Have you heard that I –”

Jeongguk doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because one minute he’s speaking and acting cool, and the next thing he knows he’s being enveloped into a huge, soft hug. Jeongguk feels bewildered by the overwhelming scent of vanilla (seriously? What kind of boy wears vanilla as a scent?), and he pats Trumpet Boy’s back awkwardly (he has to resist the urge to hug back, cause damn this boy can hug).

“Congratulations, Jeonggukkie!” Trumpet Boy exclaims, his voice slightly muffled by Jeongguk’s skin. He pulls back and Jeongguk finds himself staring into Trumpet Boy’s shining, happy eyes, and he’s surprised to see that it looks like he genuinely means it. “I’m so proud of you, you’ve worked really hard for it. You deserve it.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply, to say thank you hyung, but the words get stuck in his throat and suddenly, he’s hit with a wave of sadness. Before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, Jeongguk is pulling Jimin hyung forward into a tight hug, burrowing his head in the crook of his neck.

Jimin tenses for a minute, before relaxing and looping his arms back around Jeongguk.

“I’m going to miss you, hyung.”

“I’m going to miss you too."

Notes:

alsoOOOOOO i have extended this to 8 entire whopping chapters bc obviously i like to make myself suffer

but it's just the next two chapters divided into two sections, otherwise y'all would be sitting there suffering through 12k of word vomit HAHAHAHA

guyS COME SAY HI ON TUMBLR C'MON HOMIES im so lonely rebloggin jikook all by myself (˃̩̩̥ɷ˂̩̩̥)

Chapter 4: In Which Jeongguk Realises: Karma's A Bitch

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

(iv)

Jeongguk is eighteen (and four months) when karma finally catches up to him.

When he finally stumbles out of the library and it’s nearing 9am, Jeongguk cries inwardly as he thinks about the shitty, half-arsed composition he had thrown together in nine hours when they had been given a week to complete it, and he just knows he’ll be waving goodbye to First Place and saying hello to at least Fourth Place. Even thinking about dropping three places in his Music Theory class makes his greasy, unkempt hair curl. But then again, he hasn’t slept in fifty-three hours, so dropping down three places is probably twelfth on his list of priorities.

 First being sleep. Like, right now.

(There’s about an 83% chance he might keel over and die right there and then if he doesn’t get his much needed beauty sleep.) 

Jeongguk fumbles around sleepily for a cigarette, contemplating whether he should just use them to prop his eyes open, when he hears a high pitched, excited “Jeonggukkie!”. Before he has time to even look up from his half empty cigarette packet, something decidedly solid rams into him, knocking the air out of him. 

He ends up on the floor (Jeongguk wonders to himself if he had actually keeled over and died, and he’s just in his own personal Hell right now) gasping for air with a wriggling, laughing mess on top of him blubbering something unintelligible. Jeongguk panics, siren bells ringing in his head telling him to mission abort get the fuck out of there what the fuck is on top of me, and he’s on the verge of shoving the thing off him and fighting it Street Fighter IV style (Jeongguk’s played so many rounds at the fucking arcade he honestly thinks that he would have a fair chance fighting whatever this thing is), when he realises that it’s just his idiot best friend Kim Taehyung (he should’ve known the moment Taehyung had thrown himself onto Jeongguk, because who else would make such a dramatic and unnecessary entry?) 

“Jeonggukkie, guess what, guess what?!” Taehyung laughs breathlessly whilst wriggling around on top of Jeongguk.

Jeongguk grunts, struggling into a sitting position. Taehyung somehow manages to stay in his lap the entire time like some overgrown, smiley monkey Jeongguk doesn’t have the time or patience for. Taehyung twists in his lap, thrusting his face uncomfortably close to Jeongguk’s.

“What?”

“There’s this new kid in my music theory class and literally the moment he stepped foot into the hall I just knew we were going to be bros, and Guk he’s so cool because –”

 

Jeongguk doesn't end up finding out exactly why this mystery punk is so cool, mainly because he’s too busy trying to keep his goddamn eyes open. They slowly close continuously on their own, and Jeongguk can feel himself swaying backwards dangerously before he jolts awake to catch snippets of Taehyung’s excited chatter.

(It’s also because Taehyung and Jeongguk are bros – they’re Bros Forever, and Jeongguk doesn't like the idea of some punk slithering in and claiming Jeongguk’s title as Taehyung’s No. 1 Bro like some gross, best friend stealing octopus. Because with Jeongguk’s showcase and slew of exams coming up, he really, really doesn't have time to fend off weirdos who befriend Taehyung purely for the fact that Taehyung is like a clueless, happy puppy, naive and unaware of all the Big Bad Things in the world.)

He lets out a giant snore, a deep rumbling sound that comes from his chest and he startles awake by the sound of it, because holy shit did I make that noise, what in the literal Hell have I been smoking? Taehyung glares at Jeongguk (well, he tries to), his expression reproachful.

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung whines. “Were you listening to anything I was saying the past five minutes?”

“Uh – I, um, yes? Of course I’ve been listening, who do you take me for? Honestly Tae, give me some credit.” Jeongguk hopes if he bullshits well enough Taehyung will believe him. But Jeongguk can hear what Taehyung likes to call his Bullshit Voice coming out, and Taehyung (contrary to popular belief) is no idiot. Taehyung raises an eyebrow sceptically.

“Okay then,” Taehyung replies, an amused quirk playing on his lips (Jeongguk resists the urge to smack it off). “What was I talking about?”

Oh, shit.

Jeongguk’s certain that he’s still kinda asleep and that he does not have time for Taehyung’s antics when he’s literally on the verge of passing out. However; both Jeongguk and Taehyung (and every human being that’s ever had the pleasure of knowing Jeon Jeongguk) know that Jeongguk has a competitive streak as wide and as deep as the Pacific Ocean, and would literally rather have Taehyung throw him into a volcano than admit defeat (and besides, the knowing smirk on Taehyung’s face is really pissing Jeongguk off).

“Um, that – you, um.” Jeongguk wracks his sleep-deprived brain, desperately trying to remember the conversation he had no interest in listening to in the first place. Didn’t Taehyung mention something about a punk or something? Jeongguk grasps onto the tiny seed of an idea and hopes to God that it’s right.

“The kid! The punk! The new punk in your Music Theory class!”

Taehyung frowns slightly. “Punk?”

“Yeah, yeah, the punk! You know, you said something about class and mystery and octopus, and…” Jeongguk trails off slightly when he notices Taehyung’s frown deepening.

“What the fuck have you been smoking? I thought I told you to lay off those cigarettes, Jeon Jeongguk. They’ve muddled with your brain and turned it into mush,” Taehyung chides. He notices the unlit cigarette still clenched tightly between Jeongguk’s fingers and Taehyung’s eyes widen dramatically. Jeongguk groans inwardly because he just knows that he’s just created an excuse for Taehyung to get on his soap box and rant about how unhealthy cigarettes are and how “one cigarette knocks one day off your life and that means one less day with me”.

Luckily for Jeongguk, a higher power must be taking pity on his exhausted, sleep-deprived self and has decided to come to his aid by sending in a miracle in the form of the one thing (or person) that shuts Taehyung up.

Jeongguk’s not entirely sure if he’s in some reality TV show he’s unaware of or it’s just his brain fucking around with him, but he swears times slows down as he watches literal love beams shoot out Taehyung’s eyes towards the passing figure.

Min Yoongi by all means, is not a morning person. This is clearly evident through the Ultimate Bitch Face (or as Jeongguk likes to call it, the UBF) currently residing on said person’s tiny, pale face (actually, he always has that expression. It’s just scarier in the mornings), as well as the impressively dark and large bags under his eyes and the dark shadow around his jaw line. He also has his shirt on backwards.

That, however, doesn’t faze Taehyung in the slightest. In fact, it seems to have the opposite reaction. Whilst most people would avoid Yoongi hyung like the plague, giving him a wide berth of space in order to avoid the most venomous glare that Jeongguk’s ever had the displeasure of seeing, Jeongguk reminds himself that Kim Taehyung from Daegu is not most people.

Taehyung whispers out a “holy shit” before scrambling off Jeongguk (using his fucking face to push his body off Jeongguk’s lap). He hurriedly pats his hair down and smooths down his wrinkled shirt (ignoring Jeongguk’s smirk), shrugging aside Jeongguk’s outstretched hand, a silent plea for help (Jeongguk grumbles insults towards the older boy while he pushes himself up off the ground).


“Yoongi, my sweet muffin!” Taehyung calls out in a sing-song voice before bounding over to the tiny human. 

Jeongguk watches as Yoongi hyung looks in their general direction, his scowl deepening as he seeks to find who dared to call him out in such an insolent manner, but when his eyes land on Taehyung’s skipping form, Jeongguk watches (slightly amazed) as his scowl melts away, and is replaced with a hint of a smile. Taehyung throws himself into Yoongi hyung’s arms, and despite towering over him, Taehyung seems to fold himself into his arms, nuzzling his face into Yoongi hyung’s neck. With one hand resting loosely around Taehyung’s slim waist, Yoongi hyung’s other hand creeps up to tangle itself into Taehyung’s silky hair, and he pulls his fingers lazily through the strands. Jeongguk can see him murmuring something into Taehyung’s ear, and just when he thinks his brain might explode from the what the fuck is happening this is disgusting and illegal (and also perhaps the lack of sleep), Taehyung giggles and blushes slightly, before placing a tiny kiss on the corner of Yoongi hyung’s mouth.

Jeongguk wonders if it’s possible to die from shock.

Taehyung drags Yoongi hyung towards Jeongguk, who cringes slightly at the idea of interacting with the disgustingly cute pair. Yoongi looks distinctly disgruntled tucked underneath Taehyung’s arms, but he manages a nod towards Jeongguk, who nods back in response.

“Hi, hyung.”

Yoongi hyung foregoes a greeting. “You look like shit.”

Jeongguk’s always loved Yoongi hyung.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and smacks Yoongi hyung’s chest admonishingly. “Be nice to Jeonggukkie! He’s been super stressed the past month.”

Yoongi hyung grunts in response and takes out his cigarette packet, which prompts Jeongguk to press his lips together in order to hide a smile when Taehyung gasps dramatically at the sight of the packet and glares whilst pouting furiously.

“Babe! You promised! Why does everyone around me smoke?!”

Yoongi hyung lets out a drawn out, suffering sigh before shoving the packet back into his jacket pocket, quick to relent to Taehyung’s nagging. Jeongguk wonders when Yoongi hyung had gone from the most menacing, feared person on campus to a tiny, grouchy teddy bear.

Jeongguk stands to the side while the pair bicker quietly between themselves, Taehyung using his Powers of Persuasion (or: Shoving Large and Complicated Words and Abusing The Fact That He is a Literature Student to Manipulate the Other Person Into Thinking That They are Inferior in an Argument Against The Infamous Genius Kim Taehyung) against Yoongi hyung who looks too tired and too done for Taehyung’s Shit this early on in the morning (Jeongguk knows Yoongi hyung doesn’t mind it one bit though).

They had met through Jeongguk – Taehyung had been so shocked at the prospect of Jeongguk having friends other than himself – had been unable to wrap his head around the idea of Jeongguk and friends –  and had demanded to meet him, just so he could make sure Jeongguk hadn’t made him up.

“Where were you? I wandered around for ages on my own,” Taehyung had complained to Jeongguk, after they had lost each other at the shopping centre near their university campus.

“Oh, sorry,” Jeongguk had apologised. “I ran into a friend, so I was talking to him for a couple of minutes.”

Taehyung had reeled back in shock his hand jumping up to cover his mouth, looking as if Jeongguk had told Taehyung that he had enjoyed eating wasabi straight from the tube as a snack. Taehyung had proceeded to slowly lower his hand, his mouth still hanging wide open.

“What?” Jeongguk had snapped irritably.

“You...You have friends?” Taehyung breathed in shock, a disbelieving light in his eyes.

Gee, thanks. You sure know how to say the right thing to make someone feel good about themselves.”

“Guk, imaginary friends don’t count as real friends, okay?” Taehyung said gently, patting Jeongguk’s arm condescendingly (like the one time Taehyung likes to think he walked in on Jeongguk dancing and singing along to Barbie Girl. For the record, Jeongguk had just happened to say the words ‘come on Barbie, let’s go party’ at the same time as Ken, and for the record, he was not dancing – he had merely been moving his body in time to the music). Offended beyond belief, Jeongguk rips his arm out of Taehyung’s grasp.

For you information, he’s fucking real!” Jeongguk bellowed. “He was my mentor for the music composition exam!”

“What’s his name, then?” Taehyung had challenged.

“His name is Min Yoongi and he is a genius! He’s smarter than you!

Taehyung’s eyes had narrowed into tiny slits.

 “No,” He had disagreed. “No one is smarter than me.”

He is!”

“Fine, let me meet him then.”

“Okay, I – wait, what?!”

“Let me meet him,” Taehyung repeated smugly, knowing he had backed Jeongguk into a corner.

“What the fuck for?!” Jeongguk had spluttered angrily.

“Jeonggukkie. My sweet, angry, little baby foetus Jeonggukkie. I need to make sure you’re not making this ‘friend’ up. In the one year I have known you, you’ve stayed just as angry and prickly as the day I met you. This entire year I’ve been convinced that I was your only friend, and now you’re going and saying that you have friends?! I can’t fathom this,” Taehyung had replied dramatically, flinging himself onto an unamused Jeongguk, and placing a hand over his heart. “Take me to this... Min Yoongi.”

When Taehyung and Yoongi hyung had met, it had literally been The End. The moment Yoongi hyung stepped into the cafe (running twenty minutes late as per usual), running his fingers through his slightly dishevelled, then-pink hair, Taehyung had let out a tiny poh noise, and Jeongguk could almost see Taehyung melting at the sight of the tiny, badass hyung making his way over to their table, giving him the most disgusting case of GooGoo Eyes Jeongguk ever had the displeasure of witnessing.

 What was more surprising though was the fact that Yoongi hyung – his scary, almost evil hyung – had a fond expression on his face when Taehyung had been enthusiastically talking about his trip to his grandmother’s house during their break, an expression that had looked almost foreign on usually stoic face. Jeongguk had been ignored the entire time, and when Jeongguk had cleared his throat loudly and announced his departure, both Yoongi hyung and Taehyung barely spared him a glance, much to his distaste.

That was the day that Jeongguk liked to refer to the Beginning of The End – the day his dumb, loveable best friend Kim Taehyung had fallen for his grumpy, stoic mentor-slash-hyung, Min Yoongi.

Taehyung and Yoongi hyung have always different, on the opposite sides of the Personality Spectrum, but as Jeongguk watches them argue quietly between themselves – Taehyung passionately, fist waving everywhere, and Yoongi hyung watching Taehyung’s antics with an exasperated, fond expression – and Jeongguk is suddenly hit with a wave of loneliness, and he wants nothing more but to go home and sleep (and hopefully, that’ll get rid of the weird teen angst thoughts Jeongguk’s having).

“I’m gonna head home now, I kinda feel like I’m going to pass out,” Jeongguk says. He can feel his eyelids drooping closed on their own accord and he forces them open in time to register Taehyung’s overly concerned face peering into his.

“You okay, Guk? You want Yoongi hyung to drive you home? You look dead,” Taehyung frets.

Jeongguk waves off the offer the same time Yoongi hyung mutters a “drive you home my ass”, and he smiles tiredly at them both as he makes his way down the library steps.

“Jeonggukkie! Don’t forget Milkshake Monday tomorrow!” Taehyung shouts in a voice that’s way too loud at 9am on a Sunday morning. “Traditions! Forget and you will suffer! 10:30am at The Bean Hit tomorrow, be there or be square! Cya later alligator!

“In a while, crocodile!” Jeongguk shouts back, waving a hand to acknowledge Taehyung’s ‘threat’ and crossing the road quickly unable to stop the snort that escapes.

Taehyung can threaten Jeongguk all he likes, but both he and Taehyung and  Yoongi hyung (and heck, the whole fucking universe) knows that Taehyung is as threatening as a teeny, tiny, ferocious little puppy (Taehyung drinks water from the cap and pretends that it’s a shot for crying out loud).

Jeongguk doesn’t know how, but he somehow manages to stumble back to his apartment in one piece. Jeongguk fights to keep his eyes open as he makes his way past the living room. He feels dragged down, exhausted to the bone – what with the past month being one of the most stressful months of Jeongguk’s life. With three major compositions due, as well as assignments piling up on top of each other and upcoming exams, Jeongguk had been lucky to make it through each day with three hours of sleep. He had quickly realised that having thirty minute naps during his study breaks without actually sleeping properly once had been a pretty shitty idea when he had gone over to visit Taehyung’s apartment.

(Upon seeing Namjoon hyung, Taehyung’s roommate, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, holding a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon dangling from the other hand, Jeongguk had promptly burst into a bout of hysterical laughter which quickly morphed into ugly sobbing, before passing out right in front of a shocked Namjoon hyung.

Needless to say, Namjoon hyung is always a little wary around Jeongguk now.)

Despite that, Jeongguk in a panicked and stressed state, could barely bring himself to sleep more than three hours, worrying that he would lose his scholarship and be dragged by the hair kicking and screaming back to Busan. So Jeongguk’s pretty fucking relieved that this month is over (even though Hell is literally right around the corner).

Jeongguk collapses face first on his bed, not bothering to kick his shoes off, and lets out an inhuman moan at the soft pillow cushioning his head.

It takes him seventeen seconds to fall asleep.

×

 

Jeongguk jerks out of his sleep violently, startling and nearly rolling off his bed. He blindly pats around his bedside table for his phone. When his fingers finally close around the smooth, cool metal he lifts it wearily and checks his phone, squinting at the sudden brightness. He groans when he realises that’s only 11pm. He rolls back into the centre of his bed, and can almost feel sleep’s arms embracing him again, when he hears it.

He sits up so suddenly the whole world spins before him and he groans, clutching his head for a minute, before slowly releasing his head as the sound swells.

Someone’s playing the trumpet.

They’re good – really good. Jeongguk doesn’t recognise the piece, but he can tell whoever’s playing it is obviously talented. But they’re playing the trumpet with the most ridiculous flair – it sounds as if they’re swinging the trumpet around, and – o

Oh.

 Oh, fuck.

“What the fucking, shitting fuck?!” Jeongguk spits out when something clicks inside his mind, leaping from his bed faster than it takes for Jeongguk to jack off when he receives a ten-second dirty Snapchat (what, he’s a fucking college student).

He sprints furiously towards where his French Horn rests, hissing out curses when he crashes into his keyboard, sending it tumbling onto the floor with a loud crash. Jeongguk barely slows down, making it out of his room, French Horn clutched under his armpit like a lifeline, and into the living room in less than 0.2 seconds.

“Motherfucking Trumpet Boy, goddamnit!” Jeongguk bellows as he furiously flicks through his music book. It’s taking too long to find a suitable piece, and Jeongguk’s never felt so frazzled during his entire eighteen years of existence.

How dare Trumpet Boy come back so rudely into his life, without so much as a fucking heads up? Sure, Jeongguk thinks to himself furiously, he supposes that it was his fault that he had stopped replying to Trumpet Boy’s stupid messages, and sure it might be his fault that Jeongguk had pushed Trumpet Boy away all these years, but whose fucking fault is it that Trumpet Boy didn’t keep persistently messaging and katalking Jeongguk like he thought he would’ve?

Not Jeongguk’s, that’s for fucking sure.

“You can’t come back into my life without a fucking warning, dude!” Jeongguk yells furiously upwards towards the ceiling, where the trumpet playing is coming from. “Would that have been too hard? You can’t even shoot me one of those texts you always used to fucking send? Like, ‘oh hey, it’s me, your fucking arch nemesis! Just letting you know that I’m coming back into your life! Ex oh ex oh and like ten thousand of those stupid emojis you used to always use!’ It’s not fucking fair; my life is fine without you, douchenugget! I still haven’t fucking forgiven you for being a thief!”

A tiny, part of Jeongguk’s conscience –  one that’s not addled with sleep and fury and confusion –  wonders if Jeongguk is overreacting just ever so slightly. (It might not even be Trumpet Boy, his conscience whispers into his ear.)

But the larger, angry part of Jeongguk’s conscience tells Jeongguk that what he is doing is perfectly fine and understandable and that Jeongguk should continue to shout out insults that he knows won’t be heard, because Jeongguk is in no way, shape, or form hurt and confused as to why Trumpet Boy didn’t keep messaging Jeongguk like he had secretly hoped he would. Because that’s stupid and immature and completely un-Jeongguk, so why the fuck would he have given two shits about a stupid boy who used to wear his dumb snapbacks to the side and wore ugly red converses?

 (Answer: he didn’t. Doesn’t.)

But what better way to be heard than through his metal as fuck French Horn?

Jeongguk gives up looking through his music book and brings the French Horn to his lips, and hopes to God that something, anything will come out. He lets muscle memory do the work and blasts out a couple of notes, his fingers pressing the buttons automatically.

It takes him a couple of bars to realise that it’s Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 and suddenly it feels like Jeongguk is sixteen again, standing in his bedroom in Busan, angrily staring at Trumpet Boy play his stupid Trumpet enthusiastically with that stupid signature flair of his.

It’s then that Jeongguk comes back to his senses.

A small part of him doesn’t let up and he continues to play the piece with vigour, but every other part of him screams what the fuck are you doing, mission abort, mission fucking abort. Jeongguk can hear the alarm bells ringing in his ear –  he’s fucked up. Like, real bad.

Because what if Trumpet Boy stops playing the trumpet, and –  God fucking forbid –  actually comes downstairs to investigate? What the fuck is Jeongguk meant to say then? ‘Oh hey, sorry I suddenly felt a burning wave of anger and competitiveness and a need to battle you for the Best Brass Instrument Player!’ ?

Yeah, Jeongguk doesn’t think so either.

Jeongguk slowly starts comprehending his own stupidity and is about to stop playing, when the trumpet playing suddenly stops (along with Jeongguk’s heart). He can feel a fine sheen of sweat breaking out as he questions every life choice he’s made so far. He can feel his own playing slowly putter out, and the silence that follows afterwards makes Jeongguk feel nervous.

He waits anxiously, his glances trained to the ceiling, straining to hear if Trumpet Boy does something (like come down to Jeongguk’s apartment and break the door down before proceeding to knock him down to his ass). His heart thumps so loudly and painfully in his chest, Jeongguk honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Trumpet Boy could hear his heart thumping all the way from his apartment. He holds his breath, hardly daring to breathe, when the trumpet suddenly blasts again, breaking the tense silence.

Jeongguk jumps into the air, and he swears that Trumpet Boy is playing the trumpet with an extra flair that is so painfully him it makes the hairs on Jeongguk’s neck rise. Jeongguk squints, listening to the trumpet and his eyes widen when he recognises the song.

Michael Buble’s It’s a Beautiful Day?

Oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy.

Now Trumpet Boy is just toying with him.

Because it is most certainly not a beautiful fucking day.

Jeongguk can feel his hackles rising –  Trumpet Boy always knew the right buttons to press to annoy Jeongguk (even though he did it unknowingly).

“Oh, okay!” Jeongguk yells towards the ceiling. “I get it! You want to fucking play, huh? Get yourself ready ‘cause I’m going to fucking whoop your ass! I’ll fuck you up, Trumpet Boy! Real fucking good!”

‘Cause this time, Jeongguk’s mum isn’t here to tell Jeongguk to get his ass back to bed or else, so he thinks that Trumpet Boy should ready himself for the ass whooping of his literal life. Jeongguk’s not a gangly, awkward sixteen year old anymore –  he’s a baby adult, practically a legal adult (fuck, he drinks soju sometimes for crying out loud), and so incredible nope if stupid Trumpet Boy thinks that Jeongguk isn’t at his peak right now – because he fucking is.

So Jeongguk kicks off his shoes (he has to get comfortable – he knows he’ll probably be playing the French Horn for a while) and gets ready to kick Trumpet Boy’s ass, Street Fighter IV French Horn style.

 

×

 

Pain.

(No, actually, death.)

It’s the only thing that registers through Jeongguk’s hazy mind when he’s yanked from consciousness           by the harsh sunlight literally trying to burn through his eyelids. He groans loudly, a raw sound filled with pain and bitterness, because what the fuck sunshine get the fuck outta my face. He pries his sleep-crusted eyes open, wincing at the harsh sunlight shining brightly onto his face.

When he finally comes to, he looks around slightly confused as to why he’s sleeping in the living room, cradling his French Horn like it’s a baby (it is. It’s Jeongguk’s baby). He’s also pant-less with one sock placed carefully on his right ear, and Jeongguk takes a couple of moments to realise what the fuck happened to him.

Trumpet Boy, that’s what.

He groans again, flinging the sock off his face. After engaging in the most epic battle for what seemed like hours (it had been one hour), Jeongguk had gotten so worked up to the point where he had begun pacing around his living, blaring his French Horn as loudly as he could, and shouting at Trumpet Boy to come out and fight me like a fucking man, you son of a bitch, whilst puffing his chest out like an angry gorilla.

Then, the exhaustion and lack of sleep had crept up on Jeongguk like an unwelcome flasher and Jeongguk had literally passed out on the couch, crushing his notes and Music Theory lecture notes (he doesn’t know how the fuck his sock ended up on his face, though.).

He had fallen asleep in the clothes he had gone to the library in, and he wrinkles his nose in distaste as he looks down at the crumpled shirt and stiff jeans. Jeongguk stands up, stretching his muscles, when he catches sight of himself in the mirror across the room, and holy fucking shit I look like I’ve been pulled out of Satan’s literal asshole.

Not only does he have spit dried on his left cheek and chin, but his greasy hair is parted down the middle and matted at the roots, whilst the hair on the back of his head sticks up in every direction. His face is decorated with the imprint one of the pillows from his couch, and holy shit, is that a fucking insect squished onto my face?

 A+ sex god material right there.

He absently reaches for his phone, running his tongue over his teeth, wincing at disgust at the fuzzy plaque-sweaters that coat his teeth. He checks the time quickly, sighing with relief when he realises it’s only 11:39am.

He flops back onto his couch, planning to laze around until at least 3pm. But there’s something nagging at the back of his head, telling him that he’s forgotten something. Something important, that should be at least third on his list of priorities. Jeongguk frowns, but closes his eyes anyways. It’s futile though, because he still feels restless, uncomfortable almost, because of that nagging feeling that he’s forgetting something really, really important.

His eyes snap open.

Today’s Monday.

“Jeongguk! Don’t forget Milkshake Monday tomorrow! Traditions! Forget and you will suffer! 10.30am at The Bean Hit tomorrow, be there or be square!”

Oh, fucking shit.

Jeongguk jack-knifes off the couch so intensely he can feels his six-pack (aw fuck yeah) transforming into an eight-pack. He sprints to the toilet, reaching out to grab the toothpaste, before squeezing half the tube into his mouth, because there’s no time to brush his teeth like a civilised human being. He swirls it around his mouth furiously as he splashes water on his face, attempting to get all the sleep out of his eyes (he’s gotten like, 89% of it off, and so he supposes that it’ll have to do). He spits out the toothpaste (now all watery and lumpy). He stares at his greasy hair in the reflection, and looks at the time, panicking when he realises it’s 11.43am.

Yep, he’s not going to have time to shower.

Sorry, Taehyung.

He runs out the door, still in his wrinkled, slept in clothes, grabbing a beanie and coat at random on his way out and jamming it on his head. He sprints the entire way to the coffee shop, resorting to rudely shoving people out of his way.

When he finally arrives, panting and out of breath at The Bean Hit, he can see Taehyung sitting by himself at their table by himself, nursing an almost-finished strawberry milkshake. Guilt settles deep in his bones when he notices the untouched chocolate milkshake opposite Taehyung, condensation running down the sides, and he can feel his heart clenching at the pitiful sight of Taehyung sadly stirring his straw.

Jeongguk barges into the cafe, and the door ricochets off the wall with a loud bang, startling the customers, who all turn to stare at him with varying expressions of shock, annoyance, and curiosity. From his peripheral vision he can see the owner of the coffee shop, Seokjin hyung’s disapproving head shake as he makes his way over towards Taehyung.

He plops himself into the slightly overstuffed armchair in front of Taehyung, who startles slightly in surprise, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape, before his lips settle in the form of a pout that triples Jeongguk’s guilt.

“I’m sorry, I’m a dickwad, I deserve to be fucked in the ass by Satan,” Jeongguk says immediately before Taehyung can say anything.

Guk,” Taehyung whines, frowning at Jeongguk. “You know, I waited here so long that the waiter that served me brought me another milkshake for free because he thought you had stood me up and kept telling me to break up with you, before Jinnie hyung had to tell him that we weren’t dating. That’s how pathetic I looked!”

Jeongguk winces, glancing back at Seokjin hyung who wags a finger at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk swears he can hear his tsking noise all the way from where he’s sitting by the window. “I know, I’m really sorry. I just...I crashed and I woke up like fifteen minutes ago. I’m sorry, TaeTae. Please, O gracious one, forgive my sincere and humble apologies,” Jeongguk apologises dramatically, knowing that Taehyung can never resist a show.

Taehyung harrumphs, but Jeongguk can see the smile he’s trying to hide at Jeongguk’s apology. “You better buy me my milkshake every day for the rest of the year, Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk laughs. “Deal.”

They fall easily into their normal Milkshake Monday routine afterwards, Taehyung chatting animatedly whilst Jeongguk leans back in the armchair, listening to his stories with an amused grin, sipping at his now lukewarm chocolate milkshake and occasionally adding in his own anecdotes.

But today something is kinda different. Jeongguk finds it hard to focus on what Taehyung’s talking about, his mind constantly drifting back to Trumpet Boy unconsciously. He can’t help being mad at Trumpet Boy, because seriously, one word, just one teeny, tiny word to let Jeongguk know that ‘hey I’m going to be attending the same university as you and fucking up your carefully calculated life! See you in a bit!’

It’s as if Trumpet Boy goes out of his way to make Jeongguk’s life as miserable and difficult as possible, even all the way from Busan (well, not anymore). And like, Jeongguk was on such a roll –  he hadn’t thought about Trumpet Boy in like, two freaking months. Like, he supposes that it might’ve had to do with the fact that he was overly stressed about his composition pieces as well as the assignments piling up on top of each other, but the point is, Jeongguk didn’t think about Trumpet Boy’s stupid face for two whole months.

There had been a Really Dark Time that Jeongguk doesn’t really like to think about when he had thought about Trumpet Boy nearly every fucking day, back when Jeongguk had barely turned seventeen and was in emotional turmoil –  he had gone to check Trumpet Boy’s Facebook profile (as he did regularly in a Not At All Creepy way and more of a Just Checking That You’re Alive type of thing), and to his surprise (and horror) he had realised that Trumpet Boy had deactivated his account. Seeing as this was a few months after Jeongguk stopped replying to Trumpet Boy’s messages (for a dark and unrepeatable reason), Facebook was the only form of contact Jeongguk had with Trumpet Boy.

So to see that Trumpet Boy had gone so callously and stupidly deactivated like the moron Jeongguk knew him to be was like a painful, unnecessary stab to the heart. (Jeongguk had ended up calling Taehyung and blubbering to him on the phone about how stupid Trumpet Boy had been; before Taehyung could calm him down to tell him that it wasn’t the end of the world. Jeongguk had then proceeded to calmly hang up on Taehyung, before angrily punching his pillow a thousand times.)

After The Dark Day, Jeongguk had lost all forms of contact with Trumpet Boy (because the dweeb was obviously an internet noob –  he didn’t have Instagram, Twitter or Tumblr), and so now when Jeongguk thinks of Trumpet Boy (which, by the way, is like, almost never) he thinks of the chubby-cheeked eighteen year old weirdo his sixteen-year-old self had left behind. Now nineteen (and nearing twenty) Jeongguk knows he’s not ready to meet twenty-one-year-old Trumpet Boy (and nearing twenty two), especially since he’s just had his ass handed to him, served cold on a platter.

“– gguk?”

Taehyung’s voice rips Jeongguk out of his inner semi-rant, and he looks up to see Taehyung staring at him with a weird expression on his face. Jeongguk wonders if he has something on his face, and his hand creeps up to touch his cheek.

(There’s nothing there, by the way – just Jeongguk’s smooth ass baby skin.)

“Sorry, sorry, I zoned out for a second. What did you say?”

 

“I asked,” Taehyung says in a strangely gentle voice. “If you were okay.”

“Wha–? Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” Jeongguk asks, frowning slightly.

Taehyung gestures to his right hand, and Jeongguk looks down to see that it’s clenched around his phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white, and it looks like it’s in danger of snapping in half.

“Oh,” Jeongguk says dumbly, before releasing his iron-grip on his phone. He wonders if he should tell Taehyung about his semi-not-so-huge (it’s actually fucking massive) problem.

Jeongguk weighs the pros and cons of telling Taehyung about The Problem. On the positive side, Taehyung’s eaten 2,190 more bowls of rice than Jeongguk has – so he’s basically Jeongguk’s sensei in this sense (or hyung, if one wishes to be boring and conventional) –  and could probably offer some solid advice on what to do concerning The Problem. Taehyung’s serious advice on problems that actually bother Jeongguk has always proved to be useful and insightful, and Jeongguk doesn’t doubt for a minute that Taehyung would be willing to help Jeongguk out in a time of need. 

But on the flip side, Taehyung is also a dweeb who is convinced that Avatar: The Last Airbender is based off some grain of truth (Jeongguk cries a little on the inside every time Taehyung brings it up), despite the fact that Taehyung is literally the genius of their university. But then again, he wouldn’t put it past Taehyung to become weird and creepy and try to prove how his “mad detective skills are on point”, and actually go hunt down Trumpet Boy and ask him strange and intrusive questions that will have Jeongguk wishing a painful death upon himself. 

But as Jeongguk looks up from his half-finished milkshake, he makes the mistake of looking at Taehyung’s face. It looks small and pinched with worry and concern, and his eyes are so big and expressive that Jeongguk knows he’s going to melt any second (goddamnit). Taehyung seems to notice the fact that Jeongguk’s wavering and turns it up a notch, pushing his bottom lip into a pout, whilst making his eyes all big and round (and holy shit are Taehyung’s eyes watering?).

And here Jeongguk was, thinking he was strong.

“Fucking hell, fine, I’ll tell you! Just stop making that face,” Jeongguk groans, pushing away his milkshake.  

Taehyung’s puppy dog face vanishes in an instant, and is replaced with a happy –  albeit smug – grin. “Okay!”

(Jeongguk takes back all the times he’s ever called that menace naive and innocent.)

“It’s just…”

Taehyung seems to notice Jeongguk’s hesitation and leans over to pat his hand comfortingly. “Hey, we’re best friends. What’s wrong? You can tell me anything, you know I’ll always help you.”

Jeongguk sighs. “Remember Trumpet Boy?”

“Your neighbour back in Busan who played the trumpet better than you?”

He doesn’t play the fucking trumpet better tha –you know what, whatever. Anyways, he’s the reason I came so late today. I was sleeping and someone’s stupid trumpet playing woke me up. And I was going to just go back to sleep, but I could hear the flair in the trumpet, you know? Like, I could tell he was swinging the trumpet stupidly like he always used to do, and I just knew that it was Trumpet Boy.”

Suddenly, Jeongguk’s filled with an unexplainable rage and he can feel himself getting all riled up again. He gestures wildly towards Taehyung, nearly knocking over his milkshake, whilst Taehyung watches on, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“And so I did the one thing that came to me naturally: I got out my French Horn and played a piece louder and better than he did. Okay, so like, I’m not really sure why I did that –  it might’ve had to do with the fact that I used to always do that in Busan, but Taehyung. Fucking Trumpet Boy is living in my fucking apartment block, in the fucking apartment right above me, attending classes at this fucking university, breathing the same fucking polluted ass air as me! Why couldn’t he have messaged me and given me a fucking heads up?! Do you realise how attacked I feel right now? I don’t deserve this, my life is fucking fine without that douchecanoe!”

Jeongguk takes a small break to take a sip of his milkshake before diving right back into his rant again (a small part of him wonders if he’s spending too much time around Yoongi hyung. The amount of times he’s dropped the F-bomb in one minute is no joke). “And like I told you, when we were little kids he fucking stole my praise and everyone loved him, instead of me! I was just as good, you know! I’m still fucking awesome! Do you know anyone who can play the French Horn better than me?! Name one person! Do it!”

By the end of his rant, Jeongguk’s standing up and breathing heavily, fists curled into tight fists at his side. Jeongguk watches as Taehyung’s alarmed expression slowly morphs into a blank, serene expression, and the pair of them stay like that for thirty seconds before Jeongguk sits down again, his rage replaced with concern for the statue in front of him.

Maybe, he thinks to himself as he slowly reaches out towards Taehyung. Maybe it was too much.

“Taehy–”

Taehyung bursts out laughing, an explosive sound so loud Jeongguk startles violently, knocking over his milkshake (it was bound to happen), causing Jeongguk to jump back in surprise, before throwing napkins over the chocolate mess. Taehyung’s entire frame shakes as he leans sideways away from the table to brace himself on his knees as his loud and raucous (and completely unnecessary) laughter turns slowly into an incomprehensible wheezing as Taehyung’s laughter turns hysterical.

The lovey-dovey couple sitting behind them also jump at Taehyung’s sudden outburst and the guy turns around to glare at Taehyung, while the surprised girl peers around her boyfriend, a curious expression on her face. Jeongguk can feel himself bristling up because no one –  no one –  can glare so venomously at his best friend like that except for himself (and Yoongi hyung), and Jeongguk shoots an intimidating scowl towards the guy, who turns around disgruntled. Jeongguk feels smug for half a second; because yeah, that’s fucking right, cower in the face of the mighty Jeon Jeongguk, before he’s reminded just exactly why the guy was glaring at Taehyung in the first place.

Taehyung’s slumped over his armchair, still laughing hysterically. To Jeongguk’s immense displeasure, he can see actually see tears snaking down Taehyung’s face. Jeongguk feels offended, because when is his stupid and immature friend going to see that this is actually A Really Big Problem and grow the fuck up? There is nothing even remotely funny about this situation, Jeongguk thinks sourly to himself.

Taehyung extends a shaky hand to pat Jeongguk on the head, and the patronising action makes Jeongguk jerk away, his eyes flaring up.

“I– it’s okay, J-Jeongguk,” Taehyung manages to wheeze out in-between his donkey bray laughs. “You’re the best French Hornist I know. Your manliness and maturity puts you above all the other French Hornists.”

Jeongguk really doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm evident in Taehyung’s voice, even though what he’s saying is essentially the truth. But what would Taehyung understand? He clearly doesn’t understand the brevity of the situation.

 “Taehyung, this is an old feud,” Jeongguk sniffs, crossing his arms across his chest petulantly. “It’s serious and I find it extremely annoying and offensive that you are laughing. Besides, I wouldn’t expect you to understand, since every goddamn thing on this fucking planet seems to love you.”

Somehow though, Jeongguk’s words have the opposite to the desired reaction he was hoping for. Instead of sobering up and apologising to Jeongguk like he had expected him to, Taehyung only laughs harder, tears sliding down his face as he manages to choke out a, “I –  you, oh my god, you fucking idiot,” before breaking down completely, his laughs surpassing the Donkey Bray and going onto the Silent Seal Clap.

Unimpressed, Jeongguk leans back in his armchair and waits for Taehyung’s hysterics to calm down. Taehyung manages to calm down for, like, five seconds, only to break into hysterics again after catching sight of Jeongguk’s annoyed and extremely miffed expression.

“Is –  is it possible?” Taehyung gasps out, wiping away at his tears, as his slim frame shakes with laughter.

“Is what possible?” Jeongguk snaps.

“To d-die from laughing so m-much.”

“Obviously not,” Jeongguk sneers. “Otherwise you’d be dead, dickhead.”

After ten minutes or so of laughing rudely into Jeongguk’s face, Taehyung finally manages to calm the fuck down.

Finished?” Jeongguk asks scathingly as he watches Taehyung dab delicately at his tear-streaked face with a napkin.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, before breathing in deeply and breathing out slowly. “Jesus Christ, Jeongguk, see this is why we’re friends. God, I love you to bits.”

“I was going to ask you for advice, but seems like you’ve gone and shot that idea in the foot. I’ll just go ask Yoongi hyung.”

“No! Ask me!” Taehyung whines, immediately sobering up at the idea of not being Jeongguk’s Love Guru. “What’s the problem? Isn’t it good that your Trumpet Lover is here? You can finally confess your unbridled, dying love for him!”

Jeongguk’s scowl deepens. “First of all, it’s Trumpet Boy. He isn’t my lover and I’m not going to confess my unbridled, dying love for him because I don’t love him! God, Taehyung for someone who incredibly academically brilliant, you really don’t have any common sense at all. I guess we all have to sacrifice something.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes again (Jeongguk’s really going to have to say something to Yoongi hyung – no one is allowed to taint Taehyung’s innocence and virtue in this manner except for Jeongguk). “Fine, fine. Act like you don’t spend every waking minute obsessing over some guy whose name you refuse to tell me. Don’t worry, your Taehyungie is here. I’ll figure something out using my incredibly, academically brilliant brain.”

Jeongguk chooses to ignore the first part of Taehyung’s dramatic reply, instead focusing on the one part that actually makes sense to Jeongguk. “Good. Thanks, Tae.”

Taehyung perks up, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh! I just remembered; I’m sleeping over yours today. Joonie hyung is sexiling me again.” Taehyung pouts as if he doesn’t sexile Namjoon hyung every other day.

“My apartment? Can’t you go bother your boyfriend instead?”

Taehyung leans over to ruffle Jeongguk’s hair through his beanie, and Jeongguk jerks away from Taehyung’s touch. “My sweet Jeonggukkie. Yoongi’s is a busy, busy man, and as much as I would love to sleep over my little bean’s apartment and have him bend me over every imaginable surface, he has an assignment he’s been neglecting for the past week. So no, I cannot sleepover Yoongi’s.”

“You two are disgusting.”

“It’s young love!” Taehyung clutches his heart, smiling blissfully as if he hasn’t ruined Jeongguk’s virtue and innocence. “Ah –  Joon hyung must finally be experiencing young love too.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. “You do know that every time hyung says he’s sexiling you, he’s actually holding those Philosophy Club meetings he thinks is a secret?”

“What?!” Taehyung frowns. “He told me he had a crush! It seemed so... realistic, the way he described him! He even had a code name for him; Shoulders!”

“Taehyung, he’s fucking with you,” Jeongguk says, mirth evident in his voice.

Taehyung mutters something under his breath, after which his phone pings. Taehyung looks at the text, a dopey smile settling on his features, before he reaches behind him for his bag.

“I’m going to go first; Yoongi wants to meet for lunch. Don’t forget to record the latest episode of Tokyo Ghoul for me, okay? We can watch it together! I’ll bring pizza!” Taehyung makes to leave, but double back and tries to give Jeongguk his sternest stare. “Okay, Mr. Jeon?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jeongguk shrugs, also standing up, and slings his coat over his arm.

“Cya later alligator!” Taehyung sings as he starts to leave.

“In a while, crocodile,” Jeongguk replies immediately, grinning slightly.

 

(Jeongguk will never, ever admit this to Taehyung, but Taehyung is the first person Jeongguk has ever experienced a sleepover with, since he never had many friends growing up – unless he counts that one time Jeongguk had regretfully declined a certain someone’s sleepover invitation when he was eight –  and Jeongguk treasures each sleepover he shares with Taehyung, holding the memories they make close to his heart, because for all of Taehyung’s idiocy, he’s really the bestest friend Jeongguk could ask for.)

 

Notes:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the muchly awaited BRASS OFF \(;゚∇゚)/ [does the nae nae]

and finally, finally the introduction of our lovely (not so lovely) taetae :')

AAAAAAAAAND TAEGI!!!! [breakdances enthusiastically]

also! if anyone is wondering here is the song jimin played during their brass off

(b/c michael buble has been nothing but good to me during christmas season so i thought it was only fair that one of his songs made a cameo appearance)

Chapter 5: In Which Jeongguk Realises He is Fucked

Notes:

brass off 2.0 bc guk's A FUCKING MAN AND HE MUST FIGHT FOR HIS DIGNITY /shreds guitar solo/

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

(iv)

 

Jeongguk is eighteen (and four months) when he realises the based gods might be out to get him.

Jeongguk thinks that there is a pretty high chance that his stomach might burst open.

He thinks that eating two entire boxes of pizza to himself is probably one of the less-than-excellent life choices he’s made in his life, he thinks to himself, but to be fair Taehyung did bring five boxes of pizza, so. Not his fault. If anything, it’s Taehyung’s fault, right?

He hobbles over to the bathroom, reaching over for his toothbrush. ‘Cause even though Jeongguk just wants to sleep –  it’s 11pm? He needs to sleep? He doesn’t achieve his honey-smooth skin by staying up and doing God fucking knows like Taehyung does –  he kinda likes his teeth and plans on keeping them until he’s at least ninety (unlike Taehyung, who will probably lose his teeth and hair by the time he’s sixty and be filled with bitterness and regret on the account of never brushing his teeth and dying his hair unusual colours  too often to be healthy).  

Jeongguk squeezes the toothpaste onto the toothbrush, attempting to massage his food-baby away while he brushes his teeth (it’s no fucking easy feat, but Jeongguk manages it). He can hear Taehyung humming mindlessly in the kitchen as he rummages around Jeongguk’s fridge for something to drink, and he finds himself bobbing his head along to Taehyung’s humming as he brushes his teeth. After he’s done, Jeongguk migrates (with some difficulty) from his bathroom to the bedroom, flopping down onto his bed dramatically with a loud groan. Despite his intense belly-massaging, it hasn’t done anything to reduce the pain (albeit satisfied pain), or the uncomfortable fullness in his stomach. He kicks his sweatpants off and wriggles under the covers, sighing blissfully at the warmth. Suddenly, the food coma he’s currently in seems bearable because everything is so warm and he just feels so sleepy, and he’s ready for the best fucking sleep of his fucking life, Trumpet Boy be damned.

Jeongguk can feel himself finally drifting off into a light slumber when he’s suddenly rudely awoken by a large, wriggling mass jumping onto top of him, yelling out a “Jeonggukkie!” for the second time in two days. His eyes fly open in alarm and he lets out a startled “oomph”. Taehyung laughs loudly at the stink eye Jeongguk shoots his way, as he can feel his sleepiness ebbing away. Taehyung then rolls off Jeongguk, wriggling his way under the covers next to Jeongguk, snuggling up to him like they’re a fucking couple, wrapping his long, gangly arms around Jeongguk like some overgrown koala.

Jeongguk shoves Taehyung off him, and he can feel his face morphing into a disgusted expression as Taehyung pouts. “Dude, what the fuck, no homo.”

Taehyung shoots Jeongguk a judgmental expression. “We’re literally both homo, asswipe.”

Taehyung’s judgmental expression shifts as he takes on a goofy grin and wriggles closer towards Jeongguk. He snuggles up against Jeongguk once more, pressing his cold toes onto Jeongguk’s bare legs.

Fuck!” Jeongguk yelps. “Your toes are literal icicles, what the fuck.”

“I’m cold. You’re my Yoongbean replacement,” Taehyung whines, whilst shuffling around in an attempt to get comfortable.

“Who the fuck is Yoongbean, is that Yoongi hyung? That’s disgusting, you’re disgusting,” Jeongguk retorts, letting Taehyung sling an arm around his waist.

“Well, yeah. I think it’s adorable, so screw your negativity,” Taehyung replies, wriggling downwards slightly, still in his quest for the best cuddling position.

They end up in a slightly awkward and uncomfortable position (well, for Jeongguk anyways – Taehyung seems perfectly fine), with Taehyung’s head burrowed into Jeongguk’s armpit, with his arms wound tightly across Jeongguk’s waist. Jeongguk, who is usually a Don’t Touch Me I Hate Cuddling type of person, resigns to a night of suffocating spooning from his clingy best friend as he lies on his back Solider Style, sighing in acceptance.

“Aren’t you going to brush your teeth?” Jeongguk asks (even though he already knows the answer).

“Shhh, Jeongguk, I’m trying to sleep.” Taehyung ignores Jeongguk’s questions in favour of closing his eyes and sighing in contentment.

“Diusting,” Jeongguk mutters, closing his eyes as well.

He can feel himself drifting off to sleep, despite the strange position they’re in – Taehyung’s body is pretty much a heater and he feels relaxed and warm. Taehyung’s slow breathing is like a lullaby that makes Jeongguk drowsy, and he’s on the verge of falling asleep, when he hears the cursed trumpet.

God fucking dammit.

Jeongguk bolts upright, barely registering Taehyung’s surprised yelp. The only thing that sinks in his mind is the fact that Taehyung’s arms are still wrapped around Jeongguk’s waist and that’s fucking hindering him from getting to his French Horn because oh my fucking god he’s playing Timmy fucking Trumpet? Is this kid for fucking real?, and, in his panic and haste to get to his French Horn, ends up shoving Taehyung off him roughly.

(Jeongguk has sorely misjudged the fact that whilst Jeongguk trains like a beast at the gym, Taehyung is a mere tiny, frail twig – all slim bones and slender wrists – and ends up a surprised and understandably disgruntled heap on the floor, his legs twisted awkwardly in the sheets he’s brought down with him).

Jeongguk jumps up from his bed (now missing a certain Kim Taehyung), his panic level’s rising to an all time high, because the only thing that’s registering through Jeongguk’s mind is that he needs to get to his French Horn now before he loses his window of opportunity. Luckily for Jeongguk, the based gods are looking down on him today and decide to take pity on his panicking, dishevelled form, because his French Horn just happens to be in his room today, resting proudly on its case on his chair.

Jeongguk, luckily, is (semi) prepared for this moment. Unlike Trumpet Boy, who obviously has no other interest than trashy house music and wishes of death upon every occupant within this apartment, Jeongguk has class and manners, and only graces the other residents with the best. Jeongguk blasts Beethoven’s Sonata, Op. 17, a piece he’s been preparing for fuck knows how long. He blows so furiously into the air-piece he feels slightly light headed, and he can feel his face reddening with the effort.

Taehyung, from his position on the floor – unruffled at Jeongguk’s flaming competitiveness by now, decides that now out of all times is a good time to voice his completely unnecessary thoughts. “I think that vein in your forehead is about to burst.”

Jeongguk can hear Trumpet Boy continuing to play Timmy Trumpet with that stupid flair of his, and he thinks that he really, really does not have time for Taehyung’s shit.

“Taehyung shut the fuck up, I have to fucking concentrate,” Jeongguk bellows, ditching Beethoven and flipping furiously through his music book.

“I think I would rather attend Joonie hyung’s philosophy meetings. I’ve never seen you so riled up and it kind of scares me,” Taehyung says dryly.

Jeongguk starts to play another piece, ignoring Taehyung’s comments, because obviously Taehyung is not fulfilling his duties as a Supportive and Loyal Best Friend, and so Jeongguk is not going to pay attention to someone who thinks that this feud is something to mock.

“Hey Guk, this is just a suggestion,” –  Jeongguk rolls his eyes because Taehyung’s suggestions are often ridiculous and laughable –  “Why don’t you go to your Trumpet Boy and actually talk to him, instead of having this...this brass off.”

Jeongguk wants to laugh in Taehyung’s face because Taehyung’s ‘suggestion’ is literally only serving to prove Jeongguk’s theory that Taehyung’s suggestions are farcical and nonsensical.

“Ha, brass off,” Jeongguk snorts, before pausing. “Hey, that’s actually a good one.” Jeongguk raises his voice to a loud shout, because he knows it’s not like Trumpet Boy’s going to hear him. “Park Jimin prepare to fucking die, I challenge you to a Brass Off, you moldy piece of lint!”

Jeongguk dives back into his piece with a renewed vigour, because brass off? Now that’s a solid suggestion. He can see Taehyung suddenly sitting up in his peripheral vision, a surprised grin on his face.

“Park Jimin, did you say?” Taehyung suddenly asks. Jeongguk turns to him, frowning slightly, as he continues to play. “Does he have tomato-y red hair, kinda on the shortish side, and has the cutest smiley eyes?”

Cutest smiley eyes?

Oh, fuck no.

Jeongguk stops mid blast to look at Taehyung with an incredulous expression on his face. “The fuck?!” He barks sharply. “You know this maggot of a human being?!”

Taehyung’s excited grin widens and he stands up, moving closer towards Jeongguk. “He’s my bro-mate! Like, soulmate, but for bros. I can’t believe Trumpet Boy is Jiminnie!”

Jiminnie? Bro-mate?

Jeongguk wonders in what universe this is deemed okay. He also thinks the throbbing vein in his forehead Taehyung so rudely brought up has just burst.

“Jesus Christ!” Jeongguk explodes, making Taehyung jump in surprise. “He fucking hasn’t changed at all! He’s still a fucking thief, Taehyung! A thief! Does this packwaffle think it’s okay to steal you away too goddamnit!”

“Huh? Thief?”

“Why,” Jeongguk breathes heavily, taking a threatening step towards Taehyung who looks like a cornered kitten. “The fuck didn’t you tell me this vital piece of information Kim Taefuck?!

Taehyung glowers at Jeongguk, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, I actually did, but you weren’t listening, Jeon Fuckguk, so how is that my fault?”

“Told me my ass, you probably told me while I was sleeping,” Jeongguk mutters angrily. “Park fucking Jimin coming back into my life like an unwanted STD and fucking stealing you away, he’s probably going to charm the pants off Yoongi hyung next and –  why are you smirking at me like you fucker?!”

Taehyung’s tiny smirk had been progressively growing bigger during Jeongguk’s mini rant, and he now stands before Jeongguk, arms still crossing his chest, a full blown smirk gracing his features.

“You like him, don’t you? You have a big, fat crush on him!” Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands together.

“L-Like him?! Are you even listening to yourself?!” Jeongguk stutters, nearly dropping his French Horn. He hasn’t even registered the fact that the trumpet playing has stopped, too immersed in his own shock and disbelief at Taehyung’s accusation.

Jeongguk and Jimin sitting in a tree!” Taehyung suddenly shouts at the top of his lungs, making Jeongguk jump in surprise. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Jeongguk stares at the man-child before him, his jaw hanging open, before he snaps to his senses. “Kim Taefuck shut the fuck up before someone hears you!” Jeongguk splutters, nearly choking on his own spit.

He puts his French Horn down (more roughly than he’d like but what can do? He has to restrain the literal devil) reaching over to prevent this man-child from doing any more damage. Jeongguk tries to smack a hand over Taehyung’s mouth (if he smothers Taehyung in the process it’s not his fault), but Taehyung dances out of his reach, cackling evilly and continuing to sing at the top of his lungs.

Taehyung runs (or escapes, judging from the murderous streak Jeongguk feels right now) towards the living room.

“Park Jimin of Busan! Park Jimin!” Taehyung screeches so loudly Jeongguk thinks his eardrums have burst. “Can you hear me?! Jeon Jeongguk wants your dick! Come downstairs and give him the dicking of your life!

Jeongguk manages to reach the living room then and dives onto a laughing and screaming Taehyung, who tries to scramble away. Jeongguk thanks the based gods that Taehyung, for all his agility, is no match for Jeongguk’s 79kgs of muscle and bulk and is pinned under Jeongguk.

“Shut up if you want to live another fucking day, Kim Taefuck!” Jeongguk yells, but it comes out breathless as he tries to hold back his laughter.

They wrestle around for a few minutes, Taehyung gasping out “Park Jimin save me from your wretched lover!” in between laughs, whilst Jeongguk wrestles Taehyung into a position where he’s unable to move, his face smooshed onto the sand coloured carpet. Taehyung taps out, finally admitting defeat. Jeongguk rolls off Taehyung, and the both of them lie side-by-side on the floor, panting heavily.

Jeongguk tries to resist the urge –  he really does –  but he’s only human, and alas, Jeon Jeongguk also gives into temptation.

“But...But do you actually know him? Like, are you really good friends with him?” Jeongguk asks, unable to hold the questions in.

Taehyung’s shit-eating grin makes a return on his face. “Why are you asking? Is it ‘cause you have a crush on him?”

Jeongguk reels back, face twisting into one of disgust. “N-no! I just wanna know what this gigantic snot of a person’s turned out like! I haven’t seen him in two years, that’s all!”

Taehyung smirks knowingly.

Jeongguk punches him on the arm.

×

 

When Jeongguk barges into Taehyung’s room on a Thursday morning, the last thing he expects is to see Taehyung, butt-naked and covered head to toe in glittery purple paint as he rolls around on a huge canvas. Yoongi hyung casually sits on Taehyung’s bed, watching him with a critical eye, occasionally murmuring things like, “maybe move a little to the left”, so nonchalantly Jeongguk wonders if he’s the only that’s going crazy.

“What the fuck are you doing? Is this some weird foreplay? Am I interrupting something?” Jeongguk asks, making his way over to sit next to Yoongi hyung, who nods a greeting towards Jeongguk’s direction.

“My sweet baby foetus, one does not question art,” Taehyung replies breathlessly, standing up.

Jeongguk flinches slightly at Taehyung’s naked body –  while it may be that Jeongguk has seen Taehyung naked more times than he can count, it doesn’t mean that it’s any less painful seeing his best friend in all his naked glory (especially whilst covered in glittery paint). Jeongguk shoots Yoongi hyung a helpless look, who shrugs in response, a don’t question it, you’ll just confuse yourself even more type of shrug.

“Look,” Taehyung says, a little impatiently. He juts his hip out to the side, placing a hand on his hip. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m a little preoccupied?”

Yoongi hyung rolls his eyes, throwing a wet towel in Taehyung’s direction. Taehyung starts wiping himself down. (Well, he tries to. He’s just making more of a mess, smudging the drying paint all over his body.) Jeongguk sighs in despair – when did he ever think it was a good idea to befriend possibly the seventh sassiest person on campus? What the fuck was he thinking?

Taehyung ends up ditching the towel, and makes his way over to the bathroom, Yoongi hyung and Jeongguk trailing behind, trying to avoid the purple footsteps. Namjoon hyung pokes his head out of his door, only to make a face and retreat hastily back to the safety of his room when he sees a lumbering, naked (and purple) Taehyung making his way towards the bathroom. Jeongguk and Yoongi hyung make themselves comfortable by sitting in the bathtub while Taehyung hops into the shower and starts showering.

“Tae, I came up with something,” Jeongguk says, twisting his fingers together (he’s still unsure of whether to tell his dumb friend –  he’s not feeling so forgiving after Taehyung’s Hysterical Breakdown No.1 at the cafe and Hysterical Breakdown No. 2 at Jeongguk’s apartment), watching Yoongi hyung unlock his phone (his wallpaper is a photo of Taehyung sleeping with his mouth open) and bring up Candy Crush Soda, seemingly uninterested in Jeongguk and Taehyung’s conversation.

“What is it?”

“So I was thinking, instead of going up to Jimin hyung’s apartment and saying ‘oh hey it’s me a.k.a your neighbour a.k.a your childhood arch nemesis’, I thought it would be more natural to bump into him accidentally, you know what I mean?” Jeongguk says, waving his hands around for emphasis (even though he knows Taehyung can’t see them, he’s sure that he’ll be feeling the emphasis).

“Jimin hyung? Why don’t you call me hyung? I’m the same age as him!” Taehyung whines.

Yoongi hyung snorts and puts his phone down. “It’s ‘cause you have the mental capacity of a twelve year old, babe.”

Yoongi!” Taehyung sounds scandalised. “Now you’re ganging up on me too?!”

“It’s cute, baby.” (When the fuck did Yoongi hyung like cute? Jeongguk wonders if he’s going insane.)

Anyways,” Jeongguk redirects the conversation back to himself. “As I was saying, I’ve come up with a plan to accidentally bump into him, but I’ll need your help, ‘cause I need seven litres of soy sauce and a book on the origins of origami.”

“Seven litres of –  what the fuck are you talking about?” Yoongi hyung interjects, looking bemused. He shoots Jeongguk a judgemental expression who just shrugs, as if saying it is what it is, hyung.

“Jeongguk’s childhood love has come to our uni, Yoongi!” Taehyung chirps cheerfully. “Jeongguk was convinced that they were constantly fighting, but it just turns out it Jeongguk has been thirsting for our Jiminnie’s dick since he was little! And now he came to our university and Jeongguk’s still too scared to go up to him and confess his undying, passionate love for him, since he hasn’t seen him in more than two years, and he’s insecure and petty.”

“Insecure and – Kim Taehyung are you listening to yourself?!” Jeongguk splutters angrily at the same time Yoongi hyung mutters a “sounds like Jeongguk”.  

Yoongi hyung sighs. “So, who’s the unlucky fucker who’s captured Guk’s attention?”

Jeongguk, so scandalised at the fact that Yoongi hyung is actually going along with this, fuelling Taehyung’s lies and storytelling, can do nothing but stutter in shock and disbelief. Taehyung lets out a tinkling laugh.

“Park Jimin! I told you about him, babe, my bro-mate?”

“Ah, the kid you’re always going on about?”

“Yeah! My bro-mate, Jiminnie!”

Jeongguk grits his teeth at the stupid nickname (honestly what the fuck is ‘Jiminnie’? He sounds like a fucking cartoon character).

Taehyung turns off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his now-clean body. Jeongguk watches Yoongi hyung check out Taehyung’s body with an appraising glance and a satisfied nod (Jeongguk shudders slightly), before tossing Taehyung a pair of clean boxers.

“He joined Hoseok’s dance crew recently, I think. I remember Hoseok was telling me about it yesterday,” Yoongi says as Taehyung shimmies into his boxers, and yanks on a clean shirt over his damp head. “He didn’t shut up about that kid –  I literally have to put up with his fangirling all the fucking time.”

“Well, you two are roommates,” Taehyung says, pulling Yoongi hyung up from the bathtub (he ignores Jeongguk’s outstretched hands again, leaving Jeongguk to haul himself out of the bathtub with a scowl on his face).

They end up in Taehyung’s room again, with Jeongguk sitting on Taehyung’s beanbag and Taehyung sitting on his bed, while Yoongi hyung lies down with his head on Taehyung’s lap.

“Why don’t you just visit Hoseok when he’s holding practice, instead of doing whatever the fuck you were going to?” Yoongi hyung suggests, continuing on their conversation once they’re all seated comfortably. “I think he actually has practice right now.”

Taehyung, who had been gently running his fingers through Yoongi hyung’s hair suddenly ceases his actions, his eyes widening.

“Oh my God, babe. You’re so clever,” Taehyung gushes. “Why the fuck didn’t we think of that, Guk? Yoongi, your sexy brain turns me on so much.”

“It’s called common sense, you idiot,” Yoongi hyung retorts, but Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way Yoongi hyung’s eyes soften, as he looks fondly at the younger boy smiling down at him (Jeongguk throws up a little in his mouth –  what the fuck happened to his scary hyung?), the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

“That’s a stupid idea,” Jeongguk announces. “There’s no fucking way I’m doing that. Visit Hoseok hyung’s dance practice? When Trumpet Boy is there? Never in a million fucking years.”




 

 

 

It’s a stupid, godawful idea.

Which is why Jeongguk finds himself standing in front of the practice room forty-seven minutes later, sweating bullets. His heart pounds painfully in his chest, and he can feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Taehyung and Yoongi hyung hover behind Jeongguk like overly-protective parents, but for once Jeongguk thanks his lucky stars that Taehyung has an overly caring, if not slightly clingy personality (and thankfully, wherever Taehyung goes, Yoongi hyung isn’t too far behind).

Taehyung had somehow managed to force Jeongguk out of the hoodie he had been wearing, barging into a surprised Namjoon hyung’s bedroom and announcing that Jeongguk needed a makeover, and pronto. Jeongguk had been forced into no less than twelve different outfits, before Taehyung, Yoongi hyung, and (a slightly confused) Namjoon hyung deemed him “fuckable, 10/10 would bang”. He had then been doused head to toe in Namjoon hyung’s Armani cologne (because according to Namjoon hyung “only men wear Armani”), before Taehyung had yanked on his hair with a hairbrush and attempted to style it (it had ended up looking like he had stuck his head inside a hurricane).

 

And thus, Jeongguk finds himself standing before the practice room, his heart thumping erratically in his chest. Not only does he smell like expensive garbage, but also has resorted to wearing the snapback Taehyung used to wear when he was eleven (there was no way Jeongguk wasn’t wearing something to cover up the atrocity Taehyung had created on his head). The only thing he really has going for him is the trés chic coat Namjoon hyung lent him.

So, it would be an understatement to say that Jeongguk is nervous and hesitant.

Jeongguk swallows, before turning to Taehyung and Yoongi hyung, who offer him an enthusiastic and a reluctant thumbs up (respectively). Jeongguk reaches out, closing his hand around the cool, metal knob. He can hear the music pounding from the inside, as well as Hoseok hyung’s encouraging shouts and praises. He turns the door slowly, before peeking in. He sees the back of Hoseok hyung near him, and roughly five to six people at the front of the room, dancing to an RNB song blaring through the speakers.

Jeongguk turns around, panicking. “Fuck, Taehyung I can’t do it. I really, really can’t.”

“Sure you can!” Taehyung answers brightly, letting go of Yoongi hyung’s hand and taking a step towards Jeongguk.

Before Jeongguk even has time to process why Taehyung is stepping towards him, Taehyung shoves Jeongguk hard. Jeongguk barely has time to let out a yelp before he stumbles towards the door, knocking into it hard. He staggers into the dance room, before tripping over his own feet and skidding halfway across the dance room. He stops at an ungraceful heap at Hoseok hyung’s feet, who looks down at him in shock.

“Well...That’s one way to make an entrance I guess,” Hoseok hyung says in amusement and surprise.

Jeongguk’s not even remotely listening to a word Hoseok hyung says as he goes onto talk about something that Jeongguk has no interest in. Because even though the embarrassment of crashing through the dance room is most definitely there, Jeongguk’s mind is slightly preoccupied with other much, much more important things. 

Like the backside of that gorgeous red-haired boy

Jeongguk doesn’t remember a time he’s ever felt so completely and utterly thirsty for someone’s ass – ever. The members of Hoseok hyung’s crew continue to dance, still completely immersed in their choreography (Jeongguk thanks the based gods) and Jeongguk can’t actually see their faces, but there’s that one red-haired boy who’s dancing at the back row. Jeongguk thinks that he would like to build an altar and worship the fuck out of that booty, because goddamn if that isn’t the perkiest ass Jeongguk has ever had the pleasure of viewing in his eighteen years (and ten months) of existence. 

Jeongguk can feel his throat drying up, and any thought he’s had about making a good impression with Trumpet Boy fly out the window, because sorry Trumpet Boy, Jeongguk’s loyal to a new ass now – the red haired boy’s ass. He wonders if he’s on some Reality Booty Patrol TV Show, where he’s the new helpless victim, completely at mercy and unable to do anything in the presence of The Booty. 

The song blaring through the speakers starts crooning about dancing in slow motion, and hell if that isn’t the based gods making a fucking soundtrack for Jeongguk’s life right now, Jeongguk doesn’t know what is. 

Jeongguk can feel his actual soul leaving his body when the red haired boy suddenly drops onto his knee and starts intensely body-rolling, and the amount of control the boy has in his body turns Jeongguk into the side-eye emoji, and he finds himself physically unable to tear his eyes from the boy’s figure.

But something nags at the back of his mind –  there’s something so familiar about this boy and his seductive body rolls. He feels like he’s seen them somewhere and a strange sense of déjà vu washes over him. Jeongguk’s vaguely aware of the music stopping, and Hoseok yelling something about a fifteen minute break, but Jeongguk’s not really listening because he’s still trying hard to figure out why the fuck the red haired boy looks so familiar.

Wait.

Red haired? 

Jeongguk frowns. Didn’t Taehyung say something about Trumpet Boy having tomato-y dyed ha– oh fucking shit.


Based gods, just fuck him up.

The red haired boy turns in slow motion, like some B-grade indie film Jeongguk pretends to enjoy just to piss Taehyung off. Jeongguk, from his sprawled position on the floor, looks upwards slowly, his eyes trailing up to the boy’s taut abdomen. Apparently, Jeongguk must’ve been a fucking war hero in his past life or something, because Jeongguk is blessed with the most glorious view of the boy’s see-through singlet, and wow, hello chocolate abs, come to daddy. Jeongguk’s eyes continue up until they rest on the boy’s face.

Jeongguk thinks his eyeballs might’ve fallen out of their sockets onto the dusty floor, and he’s been blessed with the sixth sense because suddenly he can hear angels singing in the background.

Because lo and fucking behold, Park Jimin of Busan, motherfucking Trumpet Boy stands before him in a sweat drenched singlet. Jimin’s once soft jawline is now chiselled and so sharp looking, Jeongguk thinks that there might be a possibility of getting a paper cut after touching that goddamn jawline. Jimin’s chubby cheeks are M.I.A, and Jeongguk suddenly feels like he’s standing in a furnace as he watches Jimin bite down on his lip as he rakes a hand through his sweat drenched hair.

When Jimin’s eyes land on Jeongguk’s eagle-spread form at Hoseok hyung’s feet, Jeongguk watches anxiously, his mouth drier than the Sahara Desert as Jimin’s lips (oh God, his lips) part slowly in surprise, before they twist into a delighted grin. Jimin’s eyes crinkle at the corners and suddenly Jeongguk is transported back nearly ten years, when he had first seen Jimin and his smiley, starry eyes.

Jeonggukkie?!” Jimin exclaims, bounding over to where Jeongguk is sprawled on the floor. He bends down and grabs onto Jeongguk’s hand (Jeongguk notes that Jimin has possibly the softest and tiniest hands known to mankind) and pulls him up with surprisingly strength, before yanking him into a bone-crushing hug.

Jeongguk hesitantly wraps his arms around Jimin’s small form, breathing in his vanilla scent (fuck, this kid still wears vanilla?). Jimin’s hug is warm and firm and strangely familiar and reminds him of home – of Busan, and Jeongguk is hit with an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Jeongguk thinks that he might actually be having A Moment, but before he can fully comprehend that Jimin pulls away, holding him at arms’ length.

“Jeonggukkie, oh my god, you’ve grown up so much! You’re so sexy and muscular now; you used to be such a cute little bunny!” Jimin exclaims, and his tone is so honest that Jeongguk blushes slightly (what the fuck).

Jimin, to Jeongguk’s relief, hasn’t really changed that much at all. Except for those glorious abs that Jeongguk can feel through Jimin’s tight singlet, of course. Jeongguk’s still in shock at the New and Improved Outer Jimin but Still the Same on the Inside Jimin, and isn’t too sure how to express his feelings. So he resorts to staring at Jimin in dumb shock.

Thankfully, Jimin must’ve caught onto the fact that Jeongguk hasn’t really changed much since he left Busan either, and is still as talkative as a banana peel, so Jeongguk’s pretty thankful when Jimin continues to talk, oblivious to the three seconds of awkward silence that had passed (or maybe Jimin had ignored it, Jeongguk doesn’t know. Or care).

“I was wondering when you were going to come say hi to me!” Jimin grins, ruffling Jeongguk’s SnapBack covered head. Jeongguk, much to his own surprise, doesn’t flinch away from Jimin’s touch.

Wait, what did Jimin just say?

“Huh?” Jeongguk says stupidly. Jeongguk inwardly cringes, because good going, Jeon Fuckguk. Real fucking smooth. Jeongguk tries to smooth over his first mistake.

“What are you talking about? Did Kim Taefuck say something to you? I swear on all that’s fucking holy…” Jeongguk trails off, not bothering to finish his threat (he knows he’ll never carry it out anyways).

(Real smooth, Jeon Jeongguk.)

Jimin laughs (and Jeongguk swears he hears angels singing in the background, again). “No, silly goose. Let’s just say that my apartment floors are very, very thin. And I heard everything a certain Jeon Jeongguk was saying.”

As Jimin’s words sink into Jeongguk’s system, he can feel his heart dropping – straight out of his chest and into his stomach, floating around inside somewhere with the MacDonald’s he had been eating earlier.

Heard everything?

Everything?

Well, fuck.

Notes:

so my pal quinoa found classical screamoand i literally cry bc this is jeongguk in a nutshell HAHAHA

come swing by my tumblrand say hi i might be a dweeb but i have 32 picklines and i'm not afraid to use them

(((( (ღ ・ิ◡・ิ)ε ・ิ ღ) this could be us but u playin )))))

Chapter 6: In Which Jeongguk Comes To An Alarming And Life Altering Realisation

Notes:

before this chapter starts I would like to formally apologise to Moon Jongup and Im Jaebum OTL i love u both pls forgiv

also!!! between the last chapter and this chapter, Jimin’s moved apartments so he doesn’t live in the same apartment block as Jeongguk anymore!! (i guess he got tired of guk tryna one up him 24/7 hehehehe)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 (v)

Jeongguk is twenty when he comes to a shockingly alarming and terrifying life-changing realisation.

Jeongguk can see Taehyung lying on Jeongguk’s bed, watching Jeongguk mutter to himself as he shucks off his sixth button-up shirt – discarding it onto a pile of clothes that’s been gradually growing the past hour or so on Jeongguk’s floor, before pulling on a basic black tee – with an expression Jeongguk can only describe as a strange mixture between smugness and annoyance. Jeongguk represses the urge to roll his eyes because he swears that Taehyung’s face has been stuck in that one, annoying expression the entire week for no apparent reason.

“What?” Jeongguk says snappishly, looking over at Taehyung who shoots a cheeky, knowing grin back in his direction, seemingly unperturbed by Jeongguk’s rudeness.

“Dude, this is such a date. You’ve tried on at least thirty different outfits in the span of twenty minutes.”

Jeongguk laughs at his best friend’s stupidity. He loves his adorable, naive best friend. Being friends with Taehyung sometimes makes Jeongguk feel smarter, especially when he says things like this to Jeongguk with a straight face, like it isn’t the most ridiculous idea Jeongguk’s ever fucking heard.

“A date? With Jimin hyung? Honest to God, I would rather stick toothpicks in my eyes than date that weirdo,” Jeongguk scoffs, twisting around to check his back view, before nodding in satisfaction (because damn that booty is fresh as fuck).

One never goes wrong with a basic black tee and black skinny jeans, he reasons with himself, because as a man, Jeongguk knows that simplicity is best. Jeongguk frowns as he looks at his unstyled fringe flopping into his eyes. Something needs to happen to the mop on his head, pronto.

“Dude. It’s literally a date, you’ve taken an hour and... Twenty-seven minutes to get ready. Actually, no, it took you that long just to pick a fucking outfit. Do you even brush your teeth when we hang out?” Taehyung rolls over on his bed, stuffing a pillow under his stomach as he props himself up by his elbows, giving Jeongguk a severely judgemental expression (in all honesty, Jeongguk thinks it’s a little unwarranted). Jeongguk grits his teeth – he seriously needs to have a little talk with Yoongi hyung because Taehyung’s sass and snarky comments make Jeongguk age about ten years. And that’s just not on.

 “Taehyung?”

“Yes, my little sausage pie?”

“I love you, I really do, but I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up and let me style my hair in peace or else there is going to be a problem.”

As Jeongguk starts to style his hair he notices Taehyung roll his eyes, before clasping his hands together and closing his eyes as if he’s praying to the heavens above like it’s him who’s suffering, not Jeongguk (it’s Jeongguk that’s suffering, by the way).

 “Why the fuck are you praying?” Jeongguk interrupts Taehyung’s solemn prayer.

Taehyung cracks an eye open, huffing in annoyance. “I was praying for strength because God knows I fucking need it. But apparently, your obnoxiousness doesn’t stop at glaring at little children and calling dates ‘friendly dinners’, but extends all the fucking way to interrupting people during their prayers.”

Jeongguk ignores the first part of Taehyung’s reply because glaring at little children when they are being bratty – or when they try to assume that they can beat Jeongguk in a fucking arm wrestle with their little, flimsy noodle arms – is not obnoxious. Jeongguk doesn’t even want to think about the stupid date Taehyung keeps yapping on about. “Strength? Why do you need strength?”

Actually, Jeongguk knows the answer. Taehyung likes to boast about his squats and yoga sessions, but Jeongguk (and Taehyung) knows that Taehyung’s pretty weak – in nearly every aspect. Taehyung can barely open a water bottle without turning to Jeongguk, a pathetic expression on his face as he holds out the water bottle, and melts into puddles of goo at the sight of babies. So yeah, Jeongguk kind of understands why Taehyung needs strength.

Taehyung lets out a long, drawn out sigh, before jumping off Jeongguk’s now wrinkled and messy bed and bounding over to where an affronted Jeongguk stands. He smiles extra big like he’s showing a lot of patience and pats Jeongguk’s head exaggeratedly. Taehyung laughs when Jeongguk jerks his head away, scowling and patting down his hair.

“Jeongguk. There are many things in the world that you don’t understand, and obviously this is one of them, my sweet, baby foetus. But, when the day comes that you do understand, it’ll be the day I’ll laugh for at least ten minutes.”

Jeongguk’s never been more confused in his life. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Taehyung just laughs as if Jeongguk’s said something hilarious instead of the genuine question he’s just asked. Jeongguk knows that when Taehyung gets all faux-mysterious and starts sprouting random bullshit like this, it’s time for him to leave. Jeongguk, luckily, has finished getting ready, and starts pushing Taehyung out of his room, in the direction of the living room where Yoongi hyung waits for Taehyung.

“Okay, time for you to leave. I have to go meet Jimin hyung now or else I’m going to be late.”

Taehyung tries to resist Jeongguk’s nudging, grabbing onto Jeongguk’s bookshelf and clinging to it.

“You know, there was once a time when I was your top priority,” He pouts as Jeongguk sighs, before tugging at Taehyung’s hands. “But I guess I understand that your boyfriend would be your top priority now.”

Jeongguk chokes on his spit, and lets go of Taehyung to thump himself on the chest. Taehyung watches on unimpressed. “We’re not fucking dating!” Jeongguk splutters once he gets a hold of himself. “Get that through your thick skull!”

“Okay, okay!” Taehyung finally relents, lifting his hands in surrender. Jeongguk looks at him warily. “Go to your soul mate and leave me here, it’s fine,” Taehyung says in a way that suggests that it is completely not fine. “Actually, you know what? I’m going to have sex with Yoongi right here in that big, comfy bed of yours because you keep being so mean to me.”

Taehyung,” Jeongguk bellows, cringing at the uninvited disgusting image of his bed becoming tainted. He grabs Taehyung by the wrist and forcefully drags him out of his room, ignoring Taehyung’s shrieks of “Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m being manhandled!”. He hauls him towards Yoongi hyung, who watches on with a mildly amused expression at his flailing boyfriend.

When Jeongguk lets go of Taehyung, he flies towards Yoongi, jumping onto his lap, and whines pitifully. Yoongi pats Taehyung’s back soothingly, biting his lip as if trying to hold back his laughter.

“Hyung, Jesus Christ, control your fucking boyfriend,” Jeongguk barks.

“No one can control Tae,” Yoongi hyung replies, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, what can you do?

Taehyung decides that it’s a good idea to open his fucking mouth. “Except when you dominate me baby, it’s so fucking hot.”

Jeongguk thinks there’s a possibility there are real life tears streaming down his face right at that moment as he hears the ten words he could’ve gone his entire fucking life without hearing.

(“My virgin ears have been compromised!”

“Virgin ears? Who the fuck are you trying to fool?”)

×

Jeongguk gets to the restaurant with seven minutes to spare, because ‘fashionably late’ isn’t a thing – it’s just assholery. And Jeongguk is no asshole.

But apparently, Jimin is.

Jeongguk ends up waiting twenty three entire fucking minutes. When Jimin shows up, in his gym clothes all sweaty and disgusting and not in any way seductive, Jeongguk can feel his annoyance rising because Jeongguk had taken the time to slowly convince himself that Jimin was not an asshole like he originally thought he was, determined to make every breathing moment of his life hell.

But apparently, Jimin wants Jeongguk to think he’s an asshole – by being late and leaving Jeongguk to look like he’s been stood up for an entire twenty three minutes (Jeongguk refuses to think about the time he had nearly left Taehyung on his own for two hours, because let’s be real – that’s also technically Jimin’s fault that he was late).

Jeongguk’s annoyance ebbs away, however, and is slowly replaced with surprise and another strange, niggling feeling in his chest when he sees Jimin’s newly dyed orange hair. He gapes at it for several moments, because how the fuck does one pull off such a hideously trashy and outrageously tacky colour? It’s just another one of the mysteries that surround Park Jimin, he supposes. But the colour is still kinda stupid.

Jimin flings himself into the empty chair across from Jeongguk, an apology written all over his face.

“Y-your hair,” Jeongguk stammers before Jimin can even get a word out, staring at the orange atrocity. Jimin looks surprised before smiling shyly, a hand creeping up to pat it self-consciously.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Guk,” Jimin says, panting slightly, reaching over for Jeongguk’s water and chugging it down in one go. “I got caught up with practice – Hobi hyung wouldn’t let us leave until we got our choreography right. Were you waiting a long time?”

God, Jeongguk should’ve known that Hoseok hyung is behind Jimin’s assholery. Jeongguk doesn’t trust anyone who is that optimistic all the time, because it’s creepy and unnatural as fuck.

“Yes, fucking hell hyung!” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, because they’re in a restaurant and Jeongguk is polite and doesn’t want to disrupt people’s meals. “I’ve been waiting here since ass o’clock. I’m a punctual fucking man! Fashionably late isn’t a fucking thing, you’re just an asshole!”

He can see Jimin biting down on his lip, as if he’s trying to stifle his laughter, but Jeongguk just feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest as his eyes are immediately drawn to the action. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, and glares at Jimin who tries valiantly to rearrange his face into a slightly more apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry babe,” Jimin says soothingly. “I’ll be on time next time, I promise.”

Jeongguk doesn’t feel soothed. He feels like the opposite, actually. Because babe? Babe? Why did Jimin call Jeongguk babe? That’s what Taehyung calls Yoongi, and what his stupid hyung calls his girlfriend back in Busan. Jeongguk is most definitely not Jimin’s babe.

Jeongguk’s kinda low-key freaking out because what the fuck does this mean? Does he like me? Oh my god I can’t handle this low-key drama so close to exams. Jeongguk feels weird, like he’s about to vomit and then possibly pass out in his own vomit afterwards. His stomach is weird and floppy, like there are seagulls flapping about inside it, and he can feel a bead of sweat trickling down his temple (despite the fact that they’re inside the restaurant, and it’s kind of the middle of winter).

Jimin, in all of his stupidity and obliviousness, doesn’t seem to notice Jeongguk’s slow descent into Hell and goes on to open up his menu, chattering easily about what he wants to eat. Jeongguk’s on the verge of ripping the menu out of Jimin’s hands and screaming into his face at the top of his lungs, because Jeongguk’s fucking confused and needs answers.

Like, now.

But then again, Jimin’s always annoyingly affectionate to his other friends (read: Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok), and is known to be the campus sweetheart.

(Jeongguk doesn’t really like that because it always gives creepy, weird guys an excuse to sidle up to Jimin and sling their burly arms around him like he’s Premium Beef. And then Jeongguk always has to step in and shove those disgusting little maggots away because Jimin is a tiny, helpless baby in the Big Bad World and since he doesn’t have a boyfriend to protect him from sleazes, the job falls onto Jeongguk, obviously, right?)

So Jeongguk’s probably overreacting. Like, Jimin probably calls all his friends, acquaintances, colleagues, fuck, probably even his professors’ babe.

Taehyung? Babe.

Hoseok hyung? Babe.

The guy who gives tours of their university? Babe.

Their seventy year old, balding conductor? Babe.

Yeah, Jeongguk is definitely over-reacting. Obviously Jeon Jeongguk needs a fucking vacay, because all this extra stress from the upcoming slew of exams is doing his head in and he’s freaking out for no fucking apparent reason over this idiot calling him babe.

(But why babe? Was it so fucking hard to say Jeongguk? It’s one fucking syllable longer than babe, and if there’s one thing Jeongguk hates more than ‘fashionably late’ assholes, it’s lazy assholes.)

Jimin looks up then and catches Jeongguk’s eye. He’s got this little smile on his face, the corner of his lips just turned up, and suddenly Jeongguk feels naked and vulnerable – and not in a Sexy Fun Times way either. Jeongguk swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. He watches as Jimin’s eyes flit down to his neck.

Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something when he’s rudely interrupted by a waiter appearing out of thin air. Jeongguk startles, nearly spilling his water over himself. He shoots a glare towards the stupidly attractive waiter (like, is it really necessary to be that good looking? Jeongguk thinks not). Jeongguk squints at the waiter’s nametag, because he wants to be able to put a name to the face he so fucking hates. And ah, yes – Jongup. Even his name is stupid and pointless.

“Hi, are you guys ready to order?” Jongup chirps brightly (honestly, Jeongguk sneers inwardly. Who the fuck is this cheerful at 8pm on a Tuesday night? Psychopaths, that’s who).

“Yeah, um, I’ll have the samgetang, thanks!” Jimin says, smiling up at the waiter, before turning to Jeongguk, his expression expectant. “What about you, Guk?”

Oh shit. Jeongguk’s been too busy trying to send the waiter to an early grave through his death stares to have even glanced at the menu. “Uhh…” He trails off stupidly, wincing. He looks up at Jimin in panic.

“Why don’t you get the seolongtang? You liked it the last time we came here.” Jimin comes to the rescue, laughing and rolling his eyes good naturedly like he knew what Jeongguk was thinking.

“Oh, oh yeah. Yeah, okay, could I get the seolongtang, please?” Jeongguk says to Jongup, looking at him and tacking on the ‘please’ at the end grudgingly (because Jeongguk’s polite and doesn’t show his hatred towards people unless he thinks they really deserve it. And even though Jongup kind of really deserves it, Jeongguk acknowledges the fact that he hasn’t known Jongup for more than five minutes, and Jeongguk is reasonable if not anything).

Jongup nods, scribbling it down on his notepad, before taking their menus off them. He pauses, as if debating whether to speak or not.

“You guys are so cute together. I wish me and my girlfriend were as cute a couple as you two,” Jongup gushes in a disgusting manner, smiling down at them.

Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up and he thinks he can sense his hatred for Jongup doubling, tripling because bro, what the fuck? Jeongguk thinks this punk is digging himself a grave (and Jeongguk’s too, if he’s completely honest). He looks over at Jimin, who’s smiling back at Jongup and opening his mouth to speak – and holy shit are his cheeks pink? – and just. Panics.

Fuckfuckfuck, Jeongguk thinks to himself agitatedly. Jeongguk, for some reason, can’t bear to hear the words “we’re not dating” coming out of Jimin’s mouth. For some strange, unknown reason he knows he would rather rip his limbs off than hear him say those words. So Jeongguk takes care of that.

“What?! No! W-we’re not dating! Why would you think that, that’s so fucking stupid! Jeongguk splutters. It comes out a lot louder (and a lot ruder) than he had expected, and several people sitting near them turn to look at him in surprise.

Jeongguk can Jimin’s surprised expression from the corner of his eyes, though he does feel kinda confused when he notes that it’s a pained kind of surprised, evidently written all over Jimin’s face. Jongup, on the other hand, looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot (and Jeongguk thinks that that can be arranged).

Jongup lifts his hands in surrender, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, stammering out a  “Hey, bro, I’m sorry, I just thought – never mind. I’m really sorry!”, before walking away quickly.

But Jeongguk’s not paying any attention to Jongup the Stupid Waiter, because his eyes are focused on Jimin, whose eyes have turned watery. Jeongguk sighs.

“Jimin hyung,” Jeongguk calls. Jimin looks up, blinking furiously as if trying to rid his eyes of the tears before Jeongguk can notice. But Jeongguk does. He notices everything.

“Y-Yeah?”

Oh dear Lord.

“You forgot to take your allergy tablets today, didn’t you? Your eyes are all watery. You’re so lucky I carry some around. Here –” Jeongguk bends down and unzips his backpack quickly, groping around blindly before his fingers close around the familiar box that contains the pills, pulling it out victoriously. “Take these. Seriously, what would you do without me? You’re such an idiot.”

Jeongguk hands them to Jimin, who takes them with a confused expression on his face. Jeongguk’s not really sure what his adorable, naive hyung would do without him, and Jeongguk pats himself on the back mentally for knowing Jimin so well. Honestly, that boy couldn’t hide a secret from Jeongguk to save his life.

Jimin shoots him a small, awkward smile. “Oh, um, right! Yeah. Allergies. Right.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply when Jongup comes back with their drinks, placing them down. He stands in front of them, wringing his hands awkwardly and Jeongguk represses the urge to headbutt this stupid guy, because what now?

“I – um, I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I didn’t know you guys weren’t together. It just really looked like – um. Anyways. Enjoy your meal,” Jongup blurts out awkwardly.

Jimin smiles at him. “It’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

Jongup nods before apologising again and leaving (escaping). Jeongguk scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh my god, how stupid is he? I think I’m surrounded by idiots. Honestly, it seems as though I’m the only one with a functioning brain these days.”

The knowing, secretive laugh Jeongguk gets in response makes him feel kind of weird, like he’s missing out on something.

It’s probably Jongup the Stupid Waiter fucking up again.

What an idiot.

×

 

“Thanks for paying, hyung. My stomach feels like it’s gonna burst,” Jeongguk says pleasantly, patting his full stomach.

“You’re such a pain in my wallet,” Jimin laughs in response, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair. Jeongguk scowls because he had seriously taken nearly twenty minutes to style his fucking hair into the Artfully Mussed Yet Still Chic hairstyle he had been aiming for, but he doesn’t jerk away (only because he knows Jimin will do that stupid pout he always does and he’ll feel guilty even though it’s 100% not his fucking fault).

As they amble back, Jeongguk puts his hands into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slightly rumpled packet of cigarettes. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and angles himself away from Jimin slightly, his hands going up to cup the end of the cigarette as he lights it.

He takes a deep drag before exhaling, the white smoke curling away into the night. Jimin side-eyes him disapprovingly.

“I thought you said you quit smoking,” Jimin says, accusation dripping from every word.

Oops.

“I started up again ‘cause of exams. It’s not that often hyung, don’t worry,” Jeongguk replies, rolling his eyes to cover up his panic of being caught out.

Jimin sighs heavily, disappointment ringing through the sharp exhale, and Jeongguk can feel the guilt settling in his stomach. Jeongguk kind of wants to shake Jimin furiously by the shoulders and have him realise that it’s not that often – three cigarettes a day isn’t much, right? Right? – and that the only reason Jeongguk is smoking is cause of stress.

It’s either smoking or taking up something stupid. Like yoga. Or salsa dancing. Jimin should thank his lucky stars that Jeongguk smokes to destress, otherwise Jeongguk would probably lose all his hair from the stress and Jimin would have to deal everyday with a bald and extremely mortified Jeongguk. But apparently, Jimin doesn’t think about all the pros of smoking, but rather focuses on the cons, like gangrene. And yellow teeth. And dying. And here Jeongguk is, convinced that Jimin was the cup-half-full type, but apparently everyone makes mistakes.

Nevertheless, Jeongguk doesn’t like the strange, queasy feeling in his stomach at the sight of Jimin frowning slightly in disappointment, so he drops the cigarette, crushing it under his foot (he cries slightly because he had taken maybe two drags from that and holy fuck that’s such a waste). Jeongguk glowers slightly when Jimin doesn’t even seem to notice, so he coughs a few times loudly to catch Jimin’s attention. When Jimin realises that Jeongguk’s put out his cigarette, he visibly perks up, his face scrunching up into a delighted smile. Jimin sidles up to Jeongguk, standing on his tip-toes to sling his arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders, yanking him down slightly.

“You have to quit smoking, okay? C’mon, Guk. They’re so bad for you,” Jimin wheedles, nudging him slightly. “Please? For me?

No, no, no, no, no. Jeongguk won’t stop smoking because he needs his beautiful, thick hair, and just because Jimin does those stupid puppy eyes doesn’t mean that–

“Okay, fine. I’ll try to quit.”

Jeongguk regrets those six words as soon as they leave his mouth. He tries to backpedal, tries to snatch the words escaping and stuff them back into his mouth where they belong (along with a cigarette), but it’s too late and Jeongguk can see Jimin brightening considerably. They stop in front of a large apartment complex, and Jimin pulls his arm back before turning to face Jeongguk, a smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks for walking me home, Guk.”

“I didn’t walk you home, it just happens to be on the way,” Jeongguk sniffs, looking away, because friends don’t walk each other home – that’s just weird and boyfriend-y, and Jeongguk and Jimin are not boyfriends.

“Whatever you say, Jeongguk,” Jimin winks.

Jimin turns to leave, but Jeongguk stops him, catching him by his arm. “Oh – by the way; don’t forget that you, me, and Taehyung are having breakfast together tomorrow at The Bean Hit. Don’t be ‘fashionably late’ again, asshole.”

Jimin laughs a tinkling, soft laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling up gently. “I’ll be bright and early, promise. Go home quickly, it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, idiot.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

“Goodnight, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk watches Jimin disappear through the front door, before pulling out his phone and shooting a quick message to Taehyung.

 

To: Taefuck
Sent: 20th Jan 11.46pm

oi im coming over for a bit kay

 

To: Taefuck
Sent: 20th Jan 11.46pm

istg if u and yoongi hyung are doing something weird im not gonna hesitate to barge in js i dont care if ur taking it up the butt

 

To: Taefuck
Sent: 20th Jan 11.49pm

u hear me kim taefuck





 

 

 

 

When Jeongguk lets himself into Taehyung and Namjoon hyung’s shared apartment, he’s immediately met with an armful of Namjoon hyung who’s hurriedly shoving his shoes on with a pair of earphones shoved into his ears, blasting rap music so loudly Jeongguk can hear every sit on my dick bitch flowing through his earphones.

“Hyung? Where are you going?” Jeongguk asks, surprised as he notes the sheer disgust and panic in Namjoon hyung’s face. He rips an earphone out of his ear, before wincing.

“Out. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter as long as I’m away from them. Fucking hell it always happens to me. Like seriously? One of my closest friends and my roommate? Dude, that’s fucked. Anyways, I’m out of here. Good luck in there, you’ll need it.”

And with that, Namjoon hyung brushes past Jeongguk, leaving behind a trail of that disgusting expensive garbage perfume in his wake. Jeongguk gulps, dumping his bag on the sofa, before his making his way down the corridor. He stops in front of Taehyung’s closed bedroom door and leans in hesitantly, pressing his ear to the door.

Oh – f-fuck, yes, that feels so good.”

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

Jeongguk jerks back in horror, his face scrunching up in disgust and pain because seriously he could’ve gone his entire life without hearing Yoongi hyung’s sex moans. How does one expect Jeongguk to look into the face of his fucking mentor and role model, after knowing what sounds he makes when he sticks his wiener into Taehyung? Granted, his respect for Yoongi hyung had gone down a little after he had started dating Taehyung, but still.

He knows that he said he didn’t care if Taehyung was taking it up the bum in his text, but humans lie. And Jeongguk is human. Because he definitely, most certainly does care about barging in on them. Just when Jeongguk thinks things can’t get any worse, Taehyung’s sex moans shatters his train of thought.

Babe, you’re so flexible, how do you even bend into that position?”

Jeongguk is crying blood right now.

He also might thinks there is a possibility that he will shoot his ears off so he won’t be subject to this torture anymore.

Guys, I’m standing right outside your fucking bedroom, can you cover up and stop fucking for one minute so I can come in? Jesus Christ people, have some fucking decency,” Jeongguk bellows, pounding furiously on Taehyung’s door.

The grunting and moaning stops immediately and Jeongguk can almost see the exchanged looks of panic between the two.

“J-Jeongguk?” Jeongguk hears Taehyung stammer after three seconds of deafening silence and Jeongguk rolls his eyes.

No, it’s the fucking Pope. Of course it’s me, who else would it be?” Jeongguk says scathingly.

“I’m coming in now, so I hope to god that you two have at least your dicks covered.”

Jeongguk can hear Yoongi starting to tell him to wait in a panicked tone, but it’s too late and Jeongguk’s already turned the knob and opened the door.

His eyes widen comically at the sight before him, and he kinda wishes that he had listened to Yoongi hyung and waited outside.

Actually, he wishes that that they were just having sex. It would be easier to mentally handle than this.

Because he’s not too sure he can handle walking in on Taehyung and Yoongi hyung trying out couple yoga poses.

Taehyung lies with his back on the floor, his legs and arms in the air. Yoongi hyung balances his back on Taehyung’s feet, whilst Taehyung holds up his feet and Yoongi hyung holds his arms straight behind his head.

Jeongguk stares at them, speechless at the situation unfolding before him. Yoongi hyung and Taehyung stare back at him, their expression respectively varying to showcase mortification and horror, to sheepishness.

“I think,” Jeongguk begins, but Yoongi hyung scrambles off Taehyung, hissing in pain when he awkwardly lands on his stomach. Yoongi hyung stands up, glowering up at Jeongguk (it’s kind of hard to be intimidated when he was lying on top of Taehyung moaning about how good it felt literally a minute ago).

“I swear on everything that’s good and holy I will fucking end you if you bring this up to anyone, got it?” Yoongi hyung spits out at Jeongguk menacingly, taking a step towards Jeongguk and pointing a finger menacingly in his direction.

“Yes, hyung,” Jeongguk squeaks, taking a step back.

“Yoongi, don’t scare him,” Taehyung admonishes up from his position on the floor. Jeongguk lets out a sigh of relief – he knows he can always count of Taehyung to have his back.

“Besides,” Taehyung continues. “Something probably went wrong during his date with Jiminnie and he’s probably traumatised. Treat him like a fragile flower, Yoongbean.”

Never mind.

“It wasn’t a date!” Jeongguk exclaims indignantly. “God, this is the second time today! Some idiot waiter thought we were boyfriends!”

“Oh shit on a stick, please don’t tell me you went around yelling about how you’re not boyfriends,” Taehyung sits up, looking up at him in horror.

Jeongguk squirms under Taehyung’s horrified glare, refusing his answer his question and instead opting to sit next Yoongi hyung on Taehyung’s bed.

“Oh Jeongguk, you didn’t! Poor Minnie,” Taehyung whimpers sympathetically. He stands up stretching before clambering onto the bed next to Yoongi hyung. The three of them sit in a circle on Taehyung’s tiny bed like teenage girls dishing the dirt on a sleepover. “He probably died of embarrassment.”

“No, he didn’t! He was fucking fine,” Jeongguk dismisses, waving a hand.

(A little, teeny, tiny part of him wonders if Jimin wasn’t fine).

“You better tell us everything that happened,” Yoongi hyung says, shooting Taehyung a look. “And don’t leave anything out.”


 

 

 

 

 

And so Jeongguk does.

Because even though Yoongi hyung and Taehyung are idiots most of the time (well, Taehyung is. Yoongi hyung is just an idiot by association), they’re the closest thing Jeongguk has to a family in Seoul, miles and miles away from Busan. (He supposes that Jimin is like that one annoying cousin you can’t get rid of, but the idea of Jimin being his cousin makes him feel strange so he decides to settle with weird family friend that has a fetish for unusual smells). Taehyung and Yoongi hyung listen with surprising apt, nodding along and occasionally rolling their eyes at Jeongguk, and exchanging little grins when Jeongguk rants about how late Jimin was (“He just got out of my bad books, does he want to go back into them?!”).

“Jimin hyung called me babe today, how weird is that?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, scoffing at the memory. He opens his mouth to continue when Taehyung cuts him off, a small, secretive grin gracing his features, as he looks over at Yoongi hyung, who smirks back at Taehyung.

“He called you babe?”

“Yeah, it was so weird, don’t you think? I was like, ‘why would he say that’?”

“Well, it’s probably because he’s fucking crazy for y–”

“And then I realised, ‘hey, Jimin hyung is so fucking buddy-buddy with everyone, he probably calls everyone that. Fuck, he probably calls the fucking janitor, babe!” Jeongguk laughs.

Taehyung and Yoongi hyung exchange looks and they both turn to stare at Jeongguk slowly, identical incredulous expression painting their faces. Why they’re looking at Jeongguk like that, he’s not too sure though. He frowns slightly.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”

“I just– wow. You’re amazing Guk, if you think about how thick someone can get,” Taehyung shakes his head in amazement.

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Continue your story,” Yoongi hyung says innocently, pinching Taehyung discreetly (not discreetly enough, because Jeongguk catches the action. Nothing gets past Jeongguk, really).

“Right, anyways, so that’s basically it. A stupid waiter named Jongup and an even stupider Jimin hyung being late,” Jeongguk concludes, nodding.

He stretches, taking care so he doesn’t end up toppling backwards off the bed (it’s happened more than once), and yawns massively. He pulls his phone out of his back-pocket, checking the time. His eyes bug out of his head when he sees it’s nearing two am. Jeongguk lets out a panicked noise, scrambling off the bed, cursing slightly when he lands awkwardly on his knees, before straightening up to see Taehyung and Yoongi hyung staring at him weirdly.

“I have to – my exams – I have to fucking go, oh my god, I have to study. I’m no fucking genius like you, Kim Taehyung. My scholarship is on the line here,” Jeongguk splutters dramatically, walking backwards. “Don’t forget we’re eating breakfast tomorrow with Jiminnie hyung at The Bean Hit!”

“I won’t forget, don’t worry,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. Jeongguk nods and waves in farewell to the pair before stumbling out of Taehyung’s room. “See you later, alligator!”

“In a while, crocodile!”

“Check yourself before you wreck yourself, you emotionally constipated mess!” Taehyung shouts loudly, cackling as Yoongi hyung shushes him (just as loudly) as Jeongguk opens the door to leave.

Emotionally constipated mess?

What does that even fucking mean?

Sometimes, Jeongguk thinks, Taehyung really needs to lay off the fucking weed.  

×

 

Jimin’s two minutes early, and Jeongguk is duly impressed.

(Taehyung is six minutes late though and Jeongguk might have to reconsider their friendship because if Taehyung doesn’t know that Jeongguk hates tardiness then what’s the fucking point.)

They sit at a small table by the window at The Bean Hit, bright and early (a little too bright and a little too early). Seokjin hyung comes up to them, his smile way too happy and cheerful for Jeongguk at ass o’clock. He can’t be rude to Seokjin hyung though – it would kinda be like kicking a puppy in it’s tiny, adorable face – so he resorts to (attempting to) smiling just as cheerfully up at him (he knows it comes out as a pained grimace, but hey, he’s trying his fucking best).

“What can I get you three?” Seokjin hyung asks, like he hasn’t been taking their weekly order for the past year.

“I’ll have a ham sandwich and a mango smoothie, please! Thanks hyung!” Jimin smiles up at Seokjin hyung.

“And I’ll have a chocolate chip muffin and peppermint tea, Jinnie hyung,” Taehyung says sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

Seokjin hyung nods and writes it down (like he hasn’t memorised the freaking order already) and turns to Jeongguk.

“What about you, Jeongguk?”

“Cream cheese bagel and black coffee, please hyung,” Jeongguk says, stifling a huge yawn behind his hand.

“No worries,” Seokjin hyung says, scribbling Jeongguk’s order down on a worn notepad. He opens his mouth to say something when Taehyung interrupts him, perking up.

“Hey! Joonie hyung! Why are you up so early?”

Namjoon hyung swivels from where he had been loitering near the register, looking distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights. When his eyes land on Taehyung’s waving form, he physically deflates, his face scrunching up in annoyance.

“Up so early? Try never went to sleep. Because someone decided to engage in some... physically demanding proclivities last night,” Namjoon hyung scowls.

Taehyung blushes down to his roots and complains to Namjoon hyung, but Jeongguk’s not paying attention to Taehyung anymore, because Jimin nudges him and nods his head towards Seokjin hyung. Jeongguk looks up at Seokjin hyung, who looks at Namjoon hyung with the softest, fondest expression. Jeongguk’s eyes widen and he whips his head back towards Jimin and mouths a Namjoon hyung? Seriously?

Jimin waves his hand at him admonishingly, but his eyes betray him as they crinkle at the corners, shining brightly as he bites down on his lip, trying to conceal his smile. Seokjin hyung bustles away to tend to a grumpy Namjoon hyung and the trio turn away from the awkward, bumbling pair (though Taehyung seems to be more caught up in the fact that Namjoon hyung’s called him out for bangin’ Yoongi hyung all night long).

They fall into easy conversation, and after a while their conversation steers towards their upcoming exams, and Jeongguk can feel his shoulders bowing with the stress and pressure. When Seokjin hyung comes out with their meals, they dive into their respective meals like starved animals.

“If I fail, then I’m really fucked. I’ll lose my scholarship,” Jeongguk mutters, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “I didn’t do that well in my previous exams. I need at least a 95 in all my exams to keep my scholarship. I’m literally living off Monster and coffee right now.”

“I feel you, I was awake for nearly fifty hours before I crashed last night,” Taehyung moans, dropping his head into hands. “I swear, if we hadn’t gone for round two, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep!”

Jimin and Jeongguk groan simultaneously, faces scrunching up at the mental image, because Taehyung’s lack of brain to mouth filter hurts Jeongguk (and occasionally Jimin) more than it hurts himself.

“I can’t believe you’re majoring in two subjects. You’re fucking crazy,” Jeongguk steers the conversation away from hot waters, shaking his head in disbelief.

Taehyung puffs his chest out proudly. “All in the day of Genius Saxophonist Kim Taehyung.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, because yeah, Taehyung’s pretty fucking good at the Saxophone (not as good as Jeongguk at the French Horn, though) and yeah Taehyung’s the god sent child of Literature, but Jeongguk thinks that Taehyung needs to take it down a notch before his head grows too big and falls off his shoulders. Jeongguk opens his mouth to say exactly that to Taehyung, when he’s interrupted (ever so rudely).

A stupidly tall and stupidly good looking boy comes up their table. Jeongguk thinks that his ear piercings are so stupid (unlike Jeongguk’s) and his styled hair is even more stupid because who styles their hair in a quiff like that? Like hello, it’s not fucking 2008 anymore, Jeongguk thinks snidely to himself, glaring at this unwelcome intruder up and down. He doesn’t pay Jeongguk any attention. Or Taehyung.

Much to Jeongguk’s displeasure, this stupid boy’s attention is directed at Jimin, who blinks up at the stupid stranger in surprise.

“Jimin?” He asks in a stupidly attractive and deep voice (god, his voice is so pretentious and Jeongguk fucking hates it).

“Oh my god, Jaebum? Hey! How are you?!” Jimin’s face breaks out into a smile, the special smile that he reserves specially for Jeongguk – the one where his smile is so huge it looks like his cheeks would ache, and the one where his eyes crinkle in the corners and shine like someone’s gone and put a whole constellation of stars in his eyes – and Jeongguk can find himself feeling kinda riled up.

“I’m good, I’m good! I’m actually really glad I bumped into you, I had something to ask you. Can I talk to you for a bit?” Jaebum asks. Jimin nods and stands up, and the two of them walk until they’re (slightly) out of earshot (not too much though, because Jeongguk has artiste hearing, so if he wanted to listen their conversation, he totally could).

Because who the fuck is this stupid punk Jaebum (even his name is so stupid. It seems as though this campus is full of stupidly attractive idiots with stupid names. Exhibit A: Jongup the Stupid Waiter. Exhibit B: Jaebum the Idiot with the 2008 Quiff), thinking he can just barge in, uninvited, into Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Jimin’s weekly breakfast? Jeongguk thinks that this loser should learn some basic fucking etiquette before Jeongguk headbutts it into him.

He doesn’t even know (or care for that matter – and why would he? Why would anything that Jaebum the Idiot and Park Jimin the Even Bigger Idiot talk about interest him?) what they’re talking about, but that doesn’t matter because Jeongguk’s focusing on the bigger picture here – the fact that Jimin looks so fucking happy at being rudely interrupted during his fucking breakfast, and the fact that Kim Taehyung the Royal Idiot doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck, seemingly engrossed in his stupid chocolate chip muffin.

God.

Jeongguk’s surrounded by fucking idiots.

“Oi,” Taehyung nudges him gently. When Jeongguk looks at him, he notes with surprise that Taehyung is looking at him with what seems to be... pity? Jeongguk thought his eyesight had been fucking up. He supposes that it is time for a check-up, then.

“What?” Jeongguk whispers back. He’s not really paying attention to Taehyung, because he’s kind of incredibly busy trying to listen in (he thinks that his artiste hearing must be having an off day or something). It’s incredibly frustrating only being able to hear snippets of their stupid conversation, and he’s kind of annoyed at the fact that Park Jimin can just skip off like that with a stupid poser like that.

Taehyung nudges him again, and he turns to Taehyung ready to snap at him, when Taehyung gestures to his plate. Jeongguk looks down to see his hands gripping his bagel tightly, tearing it up into tiny, miniscule pieces, making a mess everywhere.

“Oh shit.” Jeongguk lets go of the mangled bagel immediately, brushing his fingers off. If he makes a mess, Seokjin hyung will fucking kill him. After Jeongguk cleans himself up, he turns back to Jimin and Jaebum just in time to see Jimin’s entire face lighting up like someone’s just been told they’ve won the fucking lottery and Jeongguk grits his teeth because Jimin only smiles like that around Jeongguk, so what the fuck did that poser say to Jimin to make him smile like that? Jeongguk wants to march up to the pair and demand to know.

He watches in utter disbelief, shock, and some other emotion he can’t exactly place his finger on, as Jimin looks down shyly, before biting his lip and looking up to meet Jaebum’s hopeful gaze and nodding slightly. Jeongguk can feel his upper lip curling up into a mean sneer when Jaebum looks shocked, and he can hear his awkward blubbering from all the way over here.

They talk for a few more minutes before Jimin bids farewell (thank fucking god) and makes his way back to their table. By that time, Jeongguk’s all but destroyed his bagel and he’s feeling weird and antsy. When Jimin sits down, Jeongguk all but pounces on him.

“What was it? What did that fucking poser want?”

Jimin blushes at this, turning a light pink that, in Jeongguk’s opinion, clashes with Jimin’s tacky hair (but Jeongguk looks past that kinda stuff). “I... I just got asked on a date?”

Jeongguk thinks his brain just broke in half.

Taehyung lets out a little whoop, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Jiminnie! You sly minx! How do you know him? Where are you guys going to go? What’s happening?”

Jeongguk’s tuned out by then, because he’s too busy searching for the hidden cameras that are bound to be hidden around the cafe somewhere. Because Park Jimin? Trumpet Boy? Being asked on a date? Now that’s a real knee-slapper. No one would ask Park Jimin out on a date because he’s weird and has a high-pitched giggle that would sound better on an eight year old girl and actually jumps when jump scares appear in horror movies.

Park Jimin, the human-puppy? On a date? Jeongguk doesn’t think so. Even the idea seems laughable. Yet there’s something niggling in his stomach – a strange, unpleasant churning feeling in his stomach. Jeongguk holds his stomach wincing. He knew he ate that bagel (well, the first three bites of it anyways) way too fast. Fucking indigestion.

“I’m meeting with him this Friday.” Jeongguk tunes in just in time to hear Jimin say.

Wait, what?

“Wait, wait, this isn’t for real, right? You’re not actually going to go on a date with that fucking poser, are you?” Jeongguk blurts out because his brain literally can’t compute the fact that Park Jimin, his stupid ex-neighbour and ex-arch-nemesis is actually going on a date. Taehyung laughs, but covers it quickly by turning into a cough, but Jeongguk can see him smirking, eyes twinkling mischievously. As per usual, Jeongguk ignores Taehyung.

Jimin looks slightly bemused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, for starters, do you even know the guy?”

“Dude, they literally greeted each other by their names,” Taehyung interjects (rather rudely). Jeongguk ignores Taehyung again, because obviously he doesn’t understand that this is a private conversation between himself and Jimin.

 “Okay, fine, but like what if he’s weird? What if he tries to pull one on you?”

“Jeonggukkie, don’t worry,” Jimin laughs a little. “He’s in one of my classes. He’s really nice, and he’s cute, and he can fucking admit to his feelings. So don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

But Jeongguk doesn’t hear a word after the words ‘he’s cute’ leave Jimin’s mouth. Because that fucking punk? Cute? Uh, no. Puppies are cute. A 100 on a test is cute. Hell, Jeongguk is cute. But that weirdo with the stupid quiff? Nuh-uh. No way.

And yet, there’s Jimin proclaiming that he’s cute, plain and simple. Not even an idiot with half a brain cell could misinterpret that. Suddenly, Jeongguk feels kind of overwhelmed and the strange, churning sensation in his stomach grows until he thinks he needs to lie down.

Jeongguk stands up suddenly, startling both Taehyung and Jimin who jump slightly at the sudden movement.

“Jeongguk?” Taehyung asks, all traces of humour gone from his face. “Hey, are you ok–”

“I–I.” Jeongguk needs to get the fuck out of there. Like, now. His brain feels all scrambled and weird and suddenly nothing is processing. “I just remembered. I have to go feed my hamster.”

He strides out of the shop, too flustered to acknowledge a concerned Seokjin hyung, escape the only thing on his mind.

Because Jeongguk’s world is fucking falling to pieces with weird boys asking Jimin on dates and Jimin smiling his secretive smile reserved specially for Jeongguk at said weird boys and Jeongguk needs to lie down because he passes out.

(“When did Jeongguk get a hamster?”

“Bro, I don’t think he even knows what a hamster looks like.”)

 

×

By the time Taehyung lets himself into Jeongguk’s apartment, Jeongguk’s already cried his eyes dry, and is lying on his bed facedown with his speakers blasting his Teen Angst </3 playlist.

Jeongguk doesn’t even know why he cried. It was like a tiny little voice that sounded suspiciously like Taehyung that had told him ‘hey, now would be a really great time to cry’. So Jeongguk did exactly that.

He lifts his head slightly to see Taehyung hovering in the doorway. Taehyung’s face is creased with sympathy and worry and when he sees Jeongguk’s tear-stained, snotty face, he lets out a little sigh.

“Oh, Guk,” Taehyung murmurs, moving around to the side of the bed. Jeongguk, suddenly unable to look at Taehyung, turns his head so he’s facing down again. He can feel the side of the mattress dip slightly under Taehyung’s weight, before a soft hand strokes his hair comfortingly and he can’t find himself to shake the hand off. “What’s the matter? You should be happy for Jiminnie. You know he had a hard time adjusting when he first moved here.”

The Neighbourhood start playing and suddenly Jeongguk can feel the waterworks starting again. And when the waterworks start, well…

Jeongguk’s not exactly the silent crier.

He can feel his word vomit building up, and as hard as he might cry to repress it he knows it’s all going to come out. Then Jesse Rutherford starts crooning about it being too cold and needing to hold one’s hands through their sweaters and welp, there it is – he’s earnestly crying now, and Taehyung, alarmed, ceases his hair stroking.

“Guk? What’s the matter?” Taehyung asks in a high pitched, panicky tone. “Are you really that upset that Jimin’s going on a date?”

Jeongguk sits up at this, pushing his snotty, damp face into Taehyung’s concerned and slightly bemused one.

No! I’m not fucking upset,” Jeongguk protests, but apparently the tears flowing down his face are telling him otherwise. “I-I don’t fucking understand. O-oh my God, hyung are my tear ducts fucking broken?”

Taehyung sighs, rolling his eyes. “I know that you’re panicking and freaking out when you start calling me hyung. Your tear ducts aren’t fucking broken you idiot, you’re upset. Have you heard of that emotion before?”

I’m not upset,” Jeongguk cries. “I just feel weird, my stomach is clenching and my chest burns, and I don’t understand why but I want to punch every small child I see and cry to The Neighbourhood. Why, Taehyung? Why do I feel like this?”

Jeongguk flops back down, rolling over so he’s staring up at the ceiling. He raises his hands dramatically, pressing it to his chest. His heart thumps wildly in his chest and he frowns at the uncomfortable sensation. “What...What is this feeling?”

A tear trickles down his cheek. He kinda feels like he’s in a movie right now.

He turns his head to look at Taehyung, who’s currently shoving a hand into his mouth in a futile attempt to stop himself from laughing. Taehyung slowly retracts his fist when Jeongguk glares at him, trying to stifle his laughter by pressing his lips together.

“Dude,” Taehyung chokes out. “That’s fucking jealousy.”

“J-Jealousy?”

Jeongguk has never, ever experienced jealousy in his life.

“Welcome to adulthood!” Taehyung exclaims through his laughter, throwing his hands into the air and popping imaginary party poppers. Jeongguk watches, unamused, as Taehyung stands up and does this weird little jig on the spot, chanting ‘a-dult-hood! A-dult-hood!’ over and over again.

But Jeongguk doesn’t understand because jealousy is an emotion people feel when they feel... jealous. And Jeongguk is never, ever jealous. Why would he be?

“Why would I feel jealous, hyung?” Jeongguk asks over the racket Taehyung’s making.

Taehyung stops mid-jig, turning to look at Jeongguk with such disappointment that he withers under his stare. He sits back down on Jeongguk’s bed, patting his arm condescendingly.

“Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk,” Taehyung lets out a long, suffering sigh. Irritated, Jeongguk rips his arm out of Taehyung’s grip.

“What?”

“My sweet, naive, if not slightly incredibly thick and stupid dongsaeng. Jimin makes you feel... a certain way, doesn’t he?”

Jeongguk sits up at this, looking at Taehyung like he’s fucking crazy. Because he is. “What the fuck?!”

“No, calm down, would you?” Taehyung rolls his eyes, pushing Jeongguk back down again. “What I mean is... okay, think about it like this. Who’s that one person that you see little bits of all the time and things that remind you of them, even when you’re not with them? Or whenever something happens, whether it’s bad or good, they’re the first person you want to tell?”

“My... mum?”

Taehyung closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for a long moment, before opening them again slowly.

No, Jeongguk. I mean, who’s that one person you want to wake up to every morning, that one person you always find yourself making exceptions for. Hmm? The one person you would gladly walk to Hell and back for just to see them smile.”

Taehyung peers into Jeongguk’s face, his expression suddenly open and earnest. “Or, that one person you stayed up with when they had the bug and then walked three kilometres to the nearest convenience store because they wanted cup ramen, or that one person you went to cooking classes with three months in a row because they wanted to learn how to bake pastries and no one would go with them? Or how about that one person who never, ever fails to make you smile, even when you’re in one of your moods?”

Jeongguk frowns, thinking hard. Taehyung’s pulling all this weird, mysterious shit on him and it’s really doing a number on him and making him feel like he’s on some Sherlock Holmes shit. He bites his lip. He can answer this. And he’s not going to ask Taehyung for help. Because Jeongguk won that scholarship because he’s fucking smart and he’s going to use his sexy brain to figure this out.

“Dude, you look like you’re going to shit your pants. It’s not that hard,” Taehyung comments, rolling his eyes. Jeongguk ignores him. “C’mon Jeongguk, you can do it. Who is it, hmm?”

Suddenly, the pieces fall into place. Because Jeongguk may or may not secretly watch romantic comedies in his spare time (because not only are they entertaining, but they are fucking heart-warming and he will fight anyone who tells him otherwise), and so he’s pretty well versed in the likes of romance.

He thinks his heart may have stopped beating and suddenly, he feels light-headed and dizzy. Jeongguk’s mouth feels weird and cottony, and he gapes like a fish.

“I... like... Jimin?” He whispers in a strangled, estranged voice.  He turns to Taehyung, his eyes blown wide with panic and confusion. He likes Jimin? Jeon Jeongguk has a fucking crush on Park Jimin?

Jeongguk? Crush? Park Jimin?

I like Jimin?!” He screeches in a voice three octaves higher, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist. Taehyung startles, alarmed. “I–what the–oh my g– holy sh – what the fuck?!

Taehyung rolls his eyes so intensely his entire body sways slightly, and with some difficulty extracts his wrist from Jeongguk’s vice grip.

Ding dong daeng!”  He sings. “Bingo! Only took you, what, thirteen years?”

“Thirtee–what the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Oh my god, you fucking idiot, you’ve been in love with him since the day you fucking met him!”

“In love?! Met him?!” Jeongguk feels faint and makes to lie down, pressing a hand to his chest (just to make sure it’s still beating), before he realises that he’s already fucking lying down.

“Jeongguk, sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to keel over and die from the stupidity rolling off you in waves,” Taehyung says conversationally (his eyes say otherwise. They tell Jeongguk a slow and painful death will be coming his way. At this rate, he thinks he would gladly take it).

Jeongguk turns to Taehyung, his expression bypassing panicked and going onto the holy-fuck-i’m-going-to-die-right-now-unless-someone-does-something-very-dramatic. “Oh fucking, shitting fuck, hyung, I like Jimin! What the fuck do I do? Oh my god, what do I do?”

“Um, I don’t know, maybe, you could fucking confess to him? Like a normal person?” Taehyung says scathingly.

Jeongguk laughs derisively in Taehyung’s face, nearly choking on his own spit. “For someone who’s so fucking smart, you really don’t know anything.”

Jeongguk can see Taehyung count to three slowly, before letting out a long exhale. “Okay,” Taehyung says, faking a smile at Jeongguk. “What do you suggest you do then? Because you seem to be so experienced in the love department? Hmm?”

Jeongguk stares at Taehyung gravely, taking his hands between his. “I’ve thought about this kind of stuff before. I’ve looked at it from every angle, but there’s only one solution.”

He pauses (for effect).

Taehyung rolls his eyes (again).

“I’m going to avoid him for the rest of my life.”

What?!”

 

Notes:

lo and behold the taegi couple pose:

GLORIOUS. HAHAHAHAHA

ALSOOO GUESS WHO GOT A TWITTER ?!??!?!?!?!?! ME!!!!!!!!! /party poppers/

COME TALK TO ME PLEASE ALL I DO IS RANT ABOUT WANTING A JIBOOTY AND USE TOO MANY HASHTAGS ヾ( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°)ノ♪

Chapter 7: In Which Jeongguk Makes A Grown Up Decision

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

(v)

Jeongguk is twenty (and one and half months) when he makes a Big, Grown Up Decision.

Exams period, as always, is brutal.

But for the first time in Jeongguk’s life, he’s glad that they are, even though his exams are metaphorically dragging him by his hair and sucker punching him repeatedly in his babymaker. He throws himself into revising and studying for his exams like never before, studying with a renewed vigour.

He drinks two cans of Monster a day and lives off cup Ramen and he swears on the based gods that he might as well be peeing blood.

But that’s okay, because Jeongguk’s a scholarship kid, and there’s no way he’s pussying out of drinking Monster just because his piss comes out darker. And kinda more painfully. Jeongguk’s a man, and he can handle this shit.

Instead of sleeping properly, Jeongguk falls back into his old habit of taking twenty-minute naps in between his revision periods; the dark, purplish bags that develop under his eyes make it look like he’s been punched in the eyes by professional boxers. Has fallen into a routine where he can feel himself constantly drifting off to sleep, only to jerk awake seconds later.

(He does this for three days straight, before he ends up having a nightmare about failing all his exams and wakes up screaming in the middle of the library with tears streaming down his face, and is banned from studying at the library. Jeongguk stops drinking Monster and moves onto caffeine pills.)

But that’s okay, because in three, agonising weeks, it’ll all be over and Jeongguk will sleep for sixty-three hours straight like he did last time.

Instead of relying on Taehyung, Yoongi hyung, and Jimin for moral support during his exams like he did last year, he pushes them away. He ignores all their text messages and their calls, and the off-chance he sees them on campus he keeps his head down and walks quickly in the opposite direction.

Because he knows that Taehyung and Yoongi hyung mean the best, he really does, but Jeongguk’s not too sure he can handle having them badger him relentlessly about the Very Huge, Headache Inducing, Extremely Problematic Problem, especially not during exam period – the time he actually needs to get his shit together.

(There had been a time where Jeongguk had nearly been forced to interact with Taehyung. He had been studying in his room when he started hearing whispering in his apartment outside his room. He had barely managed to wriggle under his bed when the door had burst open, Taehyung standing at the door, shouting out a triumphant, “I’ve got you now!”, Yoongi hyung poking his head around Taehyung.

Jeongguk had waited under the bed, anxiously holding his breath for an entire thirty-three seconds, before Taehyung had made a disappointed noise and left, towing a grimacing Yoongi hyung behind him. He had changed the passcode on his apartment afterwards.)

Jimin, on the other hand, well…

It’s not called the Very Huge, Headache Inducing, Extremely Problematic Problem for no reason. Jeongguk has never had a ‘crush’ his entire life, and so it only makes sense that he’s confused, right? And on top of that, it’s Park Jimin, fucking Trumpet Boy out of all the fucking people on the planet it could’ve been. Because the more Jeongguk thinks about it, the more he thinks Taehyung might be right (words he had never thought he would ever, ever say).

So.

He thinks it’s safe to say his world is hanging on by a thread, all because of tacky, orange-haired boy whose stupid smile haunts his twenty-minute naps. Every. Fucking. Day.

But that’s okay, because Jeongguk has a nap three times a day if he’s lucky and the pain of seeing a certain boy in his dreams twenty minutes is nothing compared to the dizzying reality that hits him worse than month old weed (the reality being that Jeon Jeongguk must face this problem like an adult – something he plans on avoiding for as long as humanely possible). 

 And because Jeongguk doesn’t like change, he sweeps his ‘problem’ under the metaphoric rug with his metaphoric broom, and it’s Problem Solved.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

(He ignores the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.)

×

 

(“He’s ignoring me, I know it.”

“He’s ignoring me and Yoongi too. I would say don’t take it personally, but…”

“I feel like it’s because of me. I don’t understand, did I do something wrong? I’m worried about him.”

“I don’t know, he’s ignoring all my messages, I can’t get through to him. Just try not to worry too much about it and focus on your exams first.”

“But I can’t, not when he’s being like this. I just... I just miss him. And I want him to know that whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. I just want him to be okay.”

“I’m not so sure it’s that simple, Minnie.”

“I... I feel weird not seeing his obnoxious face; it’s been nearly a month. Is it because of Jaebum? I shouldn’t have said yes, or gone out with him..I just… I think I wanted to make Jeongguk jealous. I wanted him to feel how I feel all the time; so helpless and frustrated… Tae, I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s not about that, at all. And even if it was, you’re entitled to your own happiness, too.”

 “But seeing him makes me happy. Being with him makes me happy… he makes me happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that.”

“Will you talk to him for me? Please?”

“Of course, don’t worry about it. I’ll see what I can do.”

“And Tae?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something else I need to tell you…”)

×

 

Jeongguk’s so, so close.

He’s nearly finished his last composition, and then he promises to himself that he’ll Treat Himself and sleep for sixty-three entire hours before he even thinks about getting up. His body must somehow know that he’s nearing the end of his Literal Hell, because he’s already taken a caffeine tablet and downed a can of Monster, yet he can still feel his eyelids closing slowly on their own before he jerks out of his mini-sleep.

Jeongguk’s in the middle of wondering whether he’s bothered to make his way to the kitchen and find toothpicks so that he can prop his eyes open (cause then they physically can’t close anymore, and then he’ll be forced to study more, right?), when the door of his bedroom suddenly bursts open. Jeongguk startles violently, his pencil jerking across his composition sheet and he lets out a blood-curdling scream (partly at the looming figure standing in his doorway, and partly at the fucking scribble down his fucking composition piece).

His hands clutch his chest and he stares at the figure, his eyes wide with terror. His heart is beating so furiously in his chest it might rip out of his chest and land on the floor.

He squints, staring at the figure in the doorway.

“Yoongi hyung? How the fuck did you get into my apa–”

Suddenly he’s interrupted with Taehyung bursting into the room as well, and for the second time in less than ten seconds he lets out another terrified shriek (later, when he comes to his senses, he argues that it wasn’t a shriek, but more of a dignified cry of mild surprise), startling again. He can feel his expression melting into a confused, and also slightly disgusted expression, because honestly what the fuck is wrong with Kim Taehyung from Daegu?

Actually, Jeongguk supposes the better question to ask is: did he expect anything less from Kim Taehyung from Daegu?

And as always, the answer is no.

Taehyung waltzes into Jeongguk’s room, wearing a strangely patterned floral button down with the buttons undone, along with a pair of the tightest leather pants he’s ever seen in his entire life. He has a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses precariously perched on the tip of his nose while he plays Careless Whisper on his saxophone with so much passion Jeongguk can feel the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably.

“Taehyung? What the fuck is happening?”

At that moment, Yoongi hyung reappears holding two candles above his head, marching into Jeongguk’s room solemnly and waving the candles around, as if performing some fucking ritual. Jeongguk, for all it’s worth, has never, ever been more confused in his entire fucking life.

He wonders if he’s hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

It seems plausible.

Jeongguk watches Taehyung with a dumbfounded expression on his face, as Taehyung kneels down on one knee and leans backwards slowly as he reaches the climax of the song, his eyes screwed shut tightly in concentration.

When Yoongi hyung clink the two candles together dramatically, Jeongguk thinks it’s fair to say that it would probably be a good time to interject now before something else happens (he doesn’t put it past Taehyung to come up with something more fucked up).

“What the fuck is happening?!” He asks Yoongi hyung. Taehyung’s still too into his saxophone solo and Jeongguk might be an ass sometimes, but he’s not about to interrupt someone playing their instrument so passionately (because as a fellow musician and artiste, Jeongguk understands that Taehyung is probably in the zone).

Taehyung cracks an eye open, looking over at Jeongguk with irritation. He stops playing his saxophone, and Jeongguk mentally gets down on his knees and thanks the based gods and promises to never say a bad word against them ever again. Because clearly they’re rooting for him right now.

“I’m holding an intervention,” Taehyung says, sighing exasperatedly as if Jeongguk asking what the fuck was happening is a stupid question that he clearly should’ve known the answer to (Jeongguk takes back everything he said about the based gods being on his side – clearly they are not).

Taehyung must see the inevitable “why?!” bubbling up on Jeongguk’s lips because he continues on to say, “Because you’re a fucking idiot. And the responsibility of doing something about it falls onto me, as your self-appointed love guru and best friend. And also ‘cause no one else gives three fucks about your so-called ‘crisis’.”

“An intervention?” Jeongguk’s thoroughly bewildered. Taehyung just nods solemnly, cleaning the spit off his mouthpiece with his button down, before setting it carefully onto Jeongguk’s bed. Taehyung’s obviously going to be no help, so Jeongguk turns to Yoongi hyung, who’s still holding the candles in the air.

“The fuck if I know,” Yoongi hyung grumbles, lowering the candles and blowing them out before setting them on Jeongguk’s table. “Fuck, Taehyung, can we just go home? I’m tired.”

“My sweet, beautiful honeybun. My little baby Yoongbean,” Taehyung tsks patronisingly, wagging a finger in his face. Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung has some sort of death wish but Yoongi hyung only scowls, flicking the finger away (and that’s how Jeongguk knows, holy fuck Yoongi hyung is so whipped).

What?”

“Shut up.”

Yoongi’s face visibly darkens and Jeongguk fears of Taehyung’s life, but Taehyung obviously has no regard for his own life (or respect for Yoongi hyung) and instead back hugs the angry male, wrapping his large hands around Yoongi’s stomach like he’s caressing some unborn child, and rests his head on top of Yoongi hyung’s disgruntled head. Taehyung turns his attention back to Jeongguk.

“Anyways, Jeongguk, I’m gonna need you to get your fucking act together. You’re a mess, and because of you, so is Jimin,” Taehyung says seriously, frowning slightly at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk stills, because this is what all that fucking saxophone playing was about? Jeongguk subtly and not-in-any-way-obviously ignoring Jimin? Jeongguk can feel a headache coming on. But Jeongguk cocks his head to the side slightly because Jimin’s a mess? Because of Jeongguk? His stomach clenches slightly and frowns (Now he’s starting to question whether it was the Ramen he ate earlier or his…feelings. The thought makes him shudder.).

“What do you mea–”

“You know,” Taehyung sighs, interrupting Jeongguk. “I don’t appreciate having to be Hermione to your Ron and Harry Goblet of Fire fallout.”

At Jeongguk’s blank expression, Taehyung sighs once more, muttering a ‘hopeless’ under his breath. “I don’t appreciate being the middle man. And despite the fact that I am a literal genius, so I actually can afford to have all this teen-drama and teen angst in my life during exam period, need I remind you that neither you nor Jimin is a genius, and you cannot? What I’m trying to say is, Jeongguk, my sweet, sweet dongsaeng is this: grow a fucking vagina, don’t be a little bitch, and just confess to Jimin, would you? I’m growing stress pimples because of you two.”

It must be pretty obvious that Jeongguk’s on the verge of throwing his textbook at Taehyung’s head and then hurting whatever chances Taehyung has of becoming a dad, because Yoongi hyung hurriedly interjects, reaching backwards to clamp his hand over a whiney Taehyung.

“What Taehyung is trying to say, is what’s the worse that could happen, Guk? Worst case scenario, Jimin says no, and it’ll be awkward for what, a day? A week? You two are way too clingy with each other to let something like that get between you. But seriously, if Jimin rejects you then I’m a fucking eggplant because that kid’s crazy for you. He’s just shy and scared of rejection. I mean, do you blame him? Your glares scare even the professors.”

“W-What about Jaebum, then?” He challenges (albeit hesitantly). Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Man, you’ve really been on the down-low, haven’t you? Their date was disastrous. Jimin felt awful afterwards and needed some TLC but a certain someone wasn’t there to be annoyingly obnoxious and say annoyingly obnoxious things to cheer him up. I ended up cheering him up, by the way,” Taehyung says scathingly.

Jeongguk can envision Jimin lying in a foetal position in his bed, sobbing hysterically whilst clutching his chest, heartbroken and devastated. Heartbroken because of that no good, dirty little fucker, and devastated because Jeongguk wasn’t there to cheer him up, and having to lean on Taehyung as a last resort. Jeongguk’s heart clenches slightly at the pitiful image.

A miniscule part of him, however, cackles meanly at the prospect of the date going wrong. Jeongguk saw it coming – if he’s said it once, then he’s said it at least a thousand times and he won’t hesitate to say it again: nothing good ever comes out dating stupid posers with quiffs that belong in 2008.

Because those idiots don’t know Jimin like Jeongguk does – and honestly it’s only because Jeongguk’s known Jimin for so long he can put up with his strange and annoying antics. So it makes sense that Jaebum was kicked to the curb, seeing that he’s obviously lacking in more than one department.

“Of course the date went wrong,” Jeongguk sneers nastily. “That fucking kid thinks he’s in 2008, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Yoongi hyung and Taehyung exchange bemused looks but Jeongguk’s not done.

He’s just getting started, actually.

“Jimin is so weird, like I’m not surprised that Jaebum couldn’t handle it. It takes a special type of person to handle him. He’s too high maintenance, you know? Like, Jimin uses hand cream on a regular basis and wears face masks twice a week, for fuck’s sake. He needs to be treated like…like...I don’t know, like a delicate flower or some shit, not manhandled by someone stupid enough to style their hair like that,” Jeongguk rants, finishing his speech with a dramatic eye roll.

Taehyung stares at Jeongguk, taken aback by his sudden explosion. “Um... Now that you’re done dragging Jimin, can we get back to the topic at hand? You? Confessing to Jimin?”

Jeongguk’s mean bravado wavers and he tries to cover it up by scoffing scornfully at Taehyung. “Confessing? This isn’t a fucking k-drama, who the fuck confesses?”

Stop fucking stalling and just tell the motherfucker you like him already, goddamnit!” Yoongi hyung roars, succeeding in making both Jeongguk and Taehyung jump in shock.

Jeongguk thinks that he would rather confess to a million Jimin's than face the wrath of an angry Min Yoongi.






 




 

“Remind me again, why I am taking a shot at 4am in the fucking morning?” Jeongguk stares at Taehyung unimpressed as the elder holds up a shot-glass containing a murky brown liquid in one hand and a lime wedge in the other.

“Jeongguk, first of all, it’s Yoongi’s European tequila. Do you understand how much he fucking treasures it? Yoongi, during the one, amazing year that we have been dating, exactly how many times have I tried this oh-so-amazing tequila?”

“You haven’t tried it.”

“Exactly. See, Guk? This is how much we love you. Yoongi is giving you a shot of his tequila – the tequila even his treasured boyfriend has never tried – for good luck. So be a fucking champ and take the shot, would you?”

Jeongguk takes the shot-glass gingerly, sniffing it. “But what if I–”

Just drink it!”

Jeongguk knocks it back, turning to Taehyung (his face scrunching up at the unpleasant taste), who shoves the lime wedge into his mouth before he can even get a word out. He can feel the liquefied death running down his throat – it’s unlike any liquor Jeongguk’s ever had and he thinks he can see his life flash before his eyes – and before he can chicken out, he unlocks his phone and shoots a message to Jimin, sending it before he can realise that what he’s doing is about to fuck up his entire world. (His entire fucking world  – his world as he knows it. Jeongguk’s life. Jeongguk just fucking hopes that Jimin appreciates all this fucking effort.)

 

To: JibOOty ( ͡ ͜ʖ ͡ )

Sent: 15th March 4.07am

Park. Tomorrow. 10pm.

 

Jeongguk nods, satisfied. Taehyung and Yoongi hyung, who are currently reading over Jeongguk’s shoulder both let out irritated groans. Taehyung smacks Jeongguk’s head, making the lime wedge pop out of his mouth and fall onto the tiled floor.

“Dude, what the literal hell? You could’ve been a little nicer – you’ve been ignoring the poor thing for the past month and a half, and when you do speak to him it’s all fucking cryptic? How about a few fucking emojis?” Taehyung says indignantly, snatching Jeongguk’s phone out of his hand and groaning. “Yoongi, look at that nickname! You two are so dating. Basically a married couple already.”

“Forget about niceness and nicknames. Will he even know which park you’re fucking talking about?” Yoongi hyung asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Jeongguk grabs his phone back, glowering at the couple. “First of all Taehyung, I’m being a fucking man. Who the fuck uses emojis? Men are straight to the fucking point. And we’re not dating! I didn’t choose that nickname, Jimin did! And hyung, of course he’ll know, he’s not a fucking idiot.”

Right on cue, his phone buzzes. Jeongguk lets out a yelp, dropping his phone where it lands on the kitchen floor with a loud clatter. Holding his breath, he picks it up, checking anxiously for cracks. He breathes a sigh of relief when he’s in the clear – natural selection will come for him another time.

Jeongguk’s relief is short-lived when he realises that Jimin has replied, meaning that he will have to open his messages right in front of the intrusive and annoyingly bothersome couple. He unlocks his phone and opens the message app, heart pounding in his chest wildly while the phone slowly redirects him to his messages. He wonders why his heart is beating so weirdly.  

 

From: JibOOty ( ͡ ͜ʖ ͡ )

Sent: 15th March 4.10am

???? what park are u talking about??????

Behind him, Yoongi hyung crows victoriously.

 

×

 

When Jeongguk arrives at the park, it’s 9.23pm.

For some reason, Jeongguk had been on edge the entire day. He had startled violently at his phone ringing and yelled at it in a panicked voice to shut up, before realising that it was indeed an inanimate object and alas, shout he might, he could not get it to shut up with just his voice.

Upon answering the phone he had been yelling at three seconds ago, he had been bombarded with an onslaught of questions and unintelligible yelling from Taehyung. After convincing Taehyung that he was fucking fine, and god can you just fucking hang up already I need to study, Jeongguk had commenced to stand in front of his mirror, his face contorted into one of panic and near-hysteria, before making this strange, high-pitched keening noise for four minutes.

It had taken Jeongguk another three minutes to realise that he had been panicking.

Panicking.

Jeongguk had then proceeded to panic about panicking, and it had taken him another thirteen minutes to realise that all this was because of Jimin – the idiot ex-next-door-neighbour-slash-ex-arch-nemesis with even dumber smiley eyes and the dumbest giggle in the entire world. So what the fuck was Jeongguk worrying about? After convincing him (read: forcing himself into believing) that he was going to be fine, and if anything, it was Trumpet Boy who needed to be scared, he had then left his house in an orderly (read: frenzied) fashion.

That was seven minutes ago.

(Turns out, Jeongguk had ended sprinting four kilometres from his apartment block to the park. On top of that, he fucking ruined his hair. Now he’s no better than Jaebum and his stupid quiff.)

Either way, deflated hair or not, he’s still thirty-seven minutes early.

He shrugs because his philosophy is that it’s better to get there early than be ‘fashionably late’. He sits on a swing because if he’s going to be here for a while he may as well get comfortable.

Because being ‘fashionably late’? Nah son, that’s just assholery.

And Jeongguk’s no asshole.

Besides, he reasons with himself, being at the park thirty seven full minutes early is a good thing, because then Jeongguk has time to plan out what he’s going to say to Jimin down to the T. Because in Jeongguk’s world, there’s no fucking room for mistakes and he’s not going to be one of those stuttering idiots (read: Jaebum, most likely) who take three minutes to string together a coherent sentence. Jeongguk is smooth and suave. Jeongguk is mysterious and seductive.

And most importantly?

Jeon Jeongguk always, always has a pla–

“Jeongguk?” A soft voice rips him out of his train of thought.

Fucking, shitting, fuck, fuck, fuck.

(Fuck!)

Jeongguk swivels around on the swing to see Jimin standing behind him hesitantly, biting his lip the way he does when he’s self-conscious. Jeongguk can hear the ongoing, high-pitched noooo screaming loudly in his mind as he forces the corners of his lips to turn up into a smile he hopes is friendly.

Because what the fuck is Jimin doing here – the ‘Fashionably Late Asshole’ who never comes to places on time, at the park thirty fucking seven minutes earlier? Jeongguk wonders what the fuck is happening to Natural Order and who the fuck is messing around with his life like this.

On top of that, Jimin’s wearing a huge, oversized sweater, the sleeves of his sweater hanging over his fingers. Jimin just looks so... soft, with his irritatingly adorable sweater paws and fluffy sweater and his unstyled hair flopping into his eyes and Jeongguk thinks he can feel sweat collecting around his hairline, despite it being winter.

Jeongguk wonders why (or how) he never noticed how cute Jimin is, but now that he does, he can’t seem to stop staring, his mouth bone dry and chest uncomfortably tight. He thinks he wants to jump up out of the swing and hug Jimin to see if he’s as soft as he looks, but instead settles for standing up in a way that is fluid and smooth, and not in any way jerky and sudden.

Jeongguk is terrified of his own emotions right now, because what the fuck are these strange and unfamiliar emotions? Jeongguk doesn’t like change. And yet here he is, changing for a soft, fluffy looking idiot who plays the trumpet with too much flair.

Jeongguk doesn’t know whether he hates it or loves it.

But when Jimin nears Jeongguk, he can see with an unsteady lurch of his heart that there are bags darker than Jeongguk’s decorating Jimin’s under eyes. Instead of the annoyingly healthy glow Jimin used to have, he now instead has an unhealthy-looking yellowish-tinge to his skin, and Jeongguk notes with a wince that it looks like Jimin has lost weight. Jeongguk can feel his heart and stomach clenching in guilt – there’s no way it’s Jeongguk’s fault, right? Right?

But maybe it is, and maybe Jeongguk is a little more asshole-y than he thought was. But probably not. (A voice that sounds like Yoongi hyung tells him that he is 100% more asshole-y than he thought, but that’s probably untrue, because Jeongguk if anything is a humble and sacrificing human, so.)

Asshole or not (definitely not), Jeongguk still can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from Jimin’s slightly hunched form. He opens his mouth slowly, but Jimin beats him to it.

“Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk gulps. “Y-yes?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? Please, don’t be mad at me,” Jimin pleads, looking into Jeongguk’s eyes (and soul). He sounds so small, so apologetic, and Jeongguk has to physically restrain himself from flinging himself down onto his knees and dramatically apologising to Jimin and begging for forgiveness.

And Jeongguk doesn’t beg.

Like, ever.

Jeongguk’s been feeling a weird mix of emotions that he’s never felt before – like jealousy and nerves and panic and lo–crushing on someone?

So it’s safe to say that it’s not really Jeongguk’s fault for the barrage of emotions that flow out of Jeongguk – probably the most emotion he’s shown in his entire twenty years of existence, actually.

Jeongguk clamps a hand over Jimin’s mouth, eliciting a muffled yelp of surprise from him.

“Hyung, just listen, okay? There’s something I need to say and I didn’t even have time to fucking plan this because you came nearly forty minutes early and ruined everything as per usual, but that’s okay because Jeon Jeongguk can live on the wild side and YOLO, carpe diem and all that fucking jazz, it’s fucking fine. So like, it might not make any sense, because I’m not a literature student like Taehyung, but I’m still fucking smart, but just in case I don’t make sense just keep listening and don’t interrupt, okay?” Jeongguk rattles off, barely stopping to take a break and actually breathe. Jimin’s eyes are the size of saucers and Jeongguk lowers his now clammy hand from around Jimin’s mouth.

“O... kay?”

The fact that Jimin sounds more confused than anything else gives Jeongguk hope. Because that means that – bless him – there’s a possibility that he still has the element of surprise for when he’ll smoothly look at Jimin in the eye and say, “dude, I like you. Let’s date.” (Simple and straight to the point, like a real man). And Taehyung said that the element of surprise was the most important, so. And anyways, as long as Jimin’s not running away from Jeongguk – either from fear or disgust – Jeongguk’s okay. He can work with confusion.

“Okay, so like,” Jeongguk laughs nervously, clapping his hands together. His voice is coming out a lot louder than he’d personally like, but he doesn’t really have any control over his body at such a crucial time like this. “Okay, hoo, I’m actually doing this. Alrighty. Um, so like, get this: I think I might like you, ha! No, jokes, I actually think I’m in love with you?”

Jimin’s eyes are growing wider by the minute and Jeongguk can feel himself getting all worked up and riled up again, but it’s not out of anger like it usually is – it’s something else and Jeongguk’s not too sure what it is, but he’s 100% sure that he prefers being angry over this foreign emotion. His brain to mouth filter is basically non-existent at the best of times, so when Jeongguk gets riled up... Well.

“And like, it fucking scares me! Yeah, I’m scared! Once upon a fucking time I thought those words would never leave my mouth because I stare fear right in its fucking face, but obviously that’s not true anymore, because I’m scared as shit! Because like, I’ve never felt this way even remotely about anyone, and the feeling is so fucking weird – it feels like indigestion and heartburn all in one, but I think it’s just butterflies? – and my heart feels like it’s going to stop any fucking moment, and at first I was convinced it was because my family’s had a history of heart related problems, but it turns out it’s just... me. Being... weird. For you.”

Jeongguk’s on a roll now and he physically can’t stop the torrential word vomit pouring out of his mouth, even though he would gladly run face-first into a wall if it meant stopping himself from carrying on.

Alas, there are no brick walls.

So Jeongguk keeps talking.

“Like, it’s so fucking weird, right? I keep thinking about weird things about you, like your tiny, soft little hands. I can’t get over them. I always think about how weirdly tiny they are and it actually kind of low-key freaks me out but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m attracted to weird parts of you, like your hands and... Thighs. Oh my god, your fucking thighs? Wh—how? I don’t understand the logistics of your thighs. It’s actually really inconsiderate if you think about it, because it actually distracts from my work?”

“And also, ha, get this: I keep thinking about – get ready for it – how I want to kiss you. And do weird things I used to hate, like holding your tiny, man-child hand and watch fucking rom-coms with you and go to all your cooking classes, and it actually sometimes makes me want to puke, but what I’m trying to fucking say is: Jimin hyung, I really fucking like you, so will you please go on a date with me and please tell me you like me back or else there is a real chance of me dying from embarrassment.”

By the time Jeongguk’s finished his not-so-calm-and-collected rant, he’s standing up in Jimin’s personal space, eyes wide and panting heavily. Jimin stands there in shocked silence and after a minute Jeongguk’s heart rate starts to go down to a more normal, disappointed speed. His reaction is... not as extravagant as Jeongguk thought (hoped) it would be. He had been expecting something a little more along the lines of bursting into gratified tears and then jumping Jeongguk’s bones, but he supposes not everything can go his way.

The lack of response from a stock-still Jimin has Jeongguk’s thoughts leading him in a different direction, and soon Jeongguk is panicking. Because like, the only thing Jeongguk knows about rejection is how to fucking spell it, and Jeongguk plans on keeping it that way until the day he’s old and senile and basically fucking useless.

“I–I’m – I didn’t mean –” Jeongguk stammers.

Suddenly Jimin bursts out laughing and Jeongguk jumps ten metres into the air at the unexpected outburst. Shocked and extremely confused, Jeongguk stands there scratching his ear awkwardly. He wonders if it’s possible to die from embarrassment, having poured out his heart and soul, only to have someone so rudely fling back his heart into his own beefy hands.

“I-I was wondering when you were going to grow a pair and confess to me, Jesus. I thought I was going to ask Jaebum to fucking fake-ask me out on another date, you goddamn asshole!” Jimin exclaims, giggling. Then his expression darkens and Jeongguk, who’s basically going to need a fucking map with how lost he is right now, takes a slightly-alarmed step back at how fast Jimin’s expression changes. “Why did you keep me waiting for so long? I seriously thought I fucking did something wrong. I thought you hated me. I had to hear from Taehyung that you liked me. Taehyung! Fuck you, don’t ever do that to me again.”

And before Jeongguk can even comprehend the fact that Taehyung fucking snitched on him, before he can fully understand just what the fuck is happening, Jimin’s striding forward, his gait confident and his expression determined.

He reaches up to cup the back of Jeongguk’s neck (holy shit his hands are so fucking soft), and yanks Jeongguk towards himself, his other coming to rest on his shoulder. Jeongguk’s stumbling forward one minute, letting out a surprised yelp, and the next his mouth is connecting with Jimin’s.

His lips are so, so soft and despite the forwardness with Jimin’s actions before, his kiss is hesitant, shy almost. Jeongguk, surprised, is frozen under Jimin’s gentle touch for a minute, before he melts into the kiss, one hand resting loosely on Jimin’s waist and the other coming up to cup his cheek. Jeongguk tilts his head slightly for better access, their noses bumping gently together and Jimin giggles through the kiss, his grip on Jeongguk’s shoulder tightening slightly as he pulls him closer, before shifting to wrap his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, standing on his tip toes to make it easier for the both of them.

It feels so... natural, so right, and Jeongguk can’t help but sigh into the kiss, his grip on Jimin’s waist tightening possessively.

Fireworks ensue.

The angels sing.

And Jeongguk’s conscience is crowing in delight and happiness, body rolling intensely and thanking the based gods because finally, finally, Jeongguk can finally call Trumpet Boy his.  

(Even though he was always his. Jeongguk always had that idiot wrapped around his pinky finger.)

“Wait, wait, wait, fake date? Dude, what the fuck?!”

 

×

(“Oh my god, fucking bless! Yoongi, Yoongi, are you seeing this? Little Minnie is on his tippy-toes so he can reach Jeongguk’s mouth! Finally, my babies are together and there is now peace in the world once more. I think I might cry happy tears.”

“Baby, that’s fucking great, it really is, because now I can go to sleep in peace without having you wake me in up at ass o’clock to tell me more of your ridiculous plans to get them together, but please tell me you have a way of getting us out of here?”

“What do you mean, my cutie pie nugget?”

“What I mean, is that we are fucking crouching behind a fucking bush, literally in the middle of nowhere. If we stand up, they’ll fucking see us, Tae. So pray tell: how are you planning on getting us out of here? Use that genius brain of yours. I’m cold and tired and hungry.”

“Babe…”

What?”

“I thought... Well…”

“Spit it out!”

“You were meant to figure that part out, Yoongi.”

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were.”

No, I fucking wasn’t!”

“Yes you fucking were! Remember?”








 

 

 

“Oh, fuck!”)

Notes:

 

 

same, jimin

I FEEL KIND OF SAD AND BITTERSWEET THAT THIS FIC IS ENDING, IT'S BECOME MY BABY /cries/

come hit me up at my twitter or my tumblr and come rant/request/yell at (or with) me!!! ♡´・ᴗ・`♡

STAY TUNED FOR THE EPILOGUE, IT SHOULD BE POSTED SOON <3 kisses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 8: Epilogue - In which Taehyung Realises Something (And Yoongi Regrets Everything)

Notes:

hoLY FUCK we are coming to the end of this rollercoaster of an emotional wreck i feel so...bittersweet that this is ending ah

thank you to everyone who stuck around and read basically what was 40k of frustration and left comments/kudos (ღ ・ิ◡・ิ)ε ・ิ ღ) y'all are the jimin to my jeongguk ♥ [vomits loudly]

and as always, you can find me at my twitter and my tumblr !!!!! feel free to come rant/request a prompt/yell at (or with) me!!!!

a hundred million kisses, love u all to the moon and back (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

In this world, there are three things that Kim Taehyung from Daegu finds truly amusing.

The first thing Taehyung finds amusing without fail is his best friend Jeon Jeongguk – literally the most emotionally constipated person he’s ever had the pleasure of coming across – and Park Jimin’s – literally the most emotional and empathetic person he’s also had the pleasure of coming across – relationship.

Taehyung, having read his fair share of fanfiction, likes to think of himself as pretty versed in the likes of unlikely pairings. However, as he thinks about seeing his dumb, idiotic best friend looking at his bro-mate with a dopey smile when he thinks Jimin’s not looking, only to hurriedly rearrange his face into a forced nonchalant expression when Jimin looks in Jeongguk’s direction, Taehyung thinks he might have to re-evaluate the meaning of an unlikely pairing.

The second thing that always gets Taehyung laughing when he thinks of is that one time he had stumbled across Yoongi’s secret singing videos. Taehyung had made plans with the bathtub in Yoongi’s apartment (and Yoongi, but that’s a story for another time), but he had arrived at his boyfriend’s apartment only to find out through Hoseok hyung that Yoongi was still at the studio. So naturally, Taehyung did what anyone would’ve done: snuck into Yoongi’s liquor cabinet and poured himself two (five) shots of the expensive European tequila Yoongi treasured so much.

Fast forward thirty minutes and he had been laughing hysterically with Hoseok hyung (who he had coerced into drinking the whiskey) as they had found a folder labelled “DON’T FUCKIGN CLICK”. Upon clicking the folder so aptly named ‘DON’T FUCKIGN CLICK’, they had been pleasantly surprised (absolutely hysterical) to find video upon video of Yoongi filming himself singing angsty ballad songs. Yoongi had come home to Taehyung and Hoseok hyung rolling around, hysterically shrieking and laughter as Singer Yoongi belted out a not-so-soulful rendition of Adele’s Hello. Taehyung, catching sight of Yoongi’s horrified expression had laughed even harder, slurring out a, “Hello Yoongi! Hello from the other side!”

(Needless to say Yoongi was less than pleased and had banned Taehyung from both his liquor cabinet and his laptop for All Of Eternity, which Taehyung thinks is a little overboard, but what can you do when you’re dating a literal diva?)

And the third thing Taehyung finds amusing without fail every single time is Yoongi attempting to remain big spoon, even though both he and Yoongi know that after three minutes of struggling, Yoongi will give up and resign to being the little spoon (no matter how much he resists during those three minutes).

This is one of those times.

They lie together in Yoongi’s (thankfully queen-sized) bed, with Taehyung curled up into Yoongi’s chest with Yoongi resting his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, as they talk quietly about their day. Taehyung, for all it’s worth, has always liked being the little spoon. There’s just something about being tucked into someone’s chest, the feeling of their arms protectively wrapped around him that Taehyung has always loved.

But after he and Yoongi started dating and began spooning lots and lots and lots (Yoongi had refused to do anything remotely cute whilst they were only casually seeing each other and Taehyung had very nearly cried himself to sleep every day), Taehyung had slowly started to see the benefits of being the big spoon. It’s nice being the protector, he thinks. And there’s something so painfully fragile about his tiny boyfriend – all translucent skin and slender fingers and thin wrists – and Taehyung always feels a surge of protectiveness towards Yoongi. Because Yoongi might be all tough words and scary glares at first glance, but Taehyung knows that inside all those layers of rough and tough, Yoongi’s frail – delicate, almost (he’ll never say these thoughts out loud to Yoongi though – Taehyung does cherish his life, after all).

Taehyung can see that Yoongi’s struggling – he keeps adjusting his arms and pulling Taehyung back gently towards his chest. He can feel Yoongi’s chin continuously slipping off, and Yoongi’s annoyed huffs hitting his bare shoulder, before he hooks his chin back onto Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung suppresses a smile.

Don’t get Taehyung wrong, he loves being little spoon, but Taehyung knows when to admit defeat, and this is obviously one of those times. Luckily for Yoongi, Taehyung loves his cutie pie boyfriend so much that he is willing to switch it up once in awhile.

“Babe?” Taehyung asks (albeit hesitantly – Yoongi is a delicate flower and values his manliness and dignity over nearly everything).

“What is it?” Yoongi replies grumpily. Taehyung can tell Yoongi’s getting annoyed with his inability to comfortably rest on Taehyung’s shoulder by the way his hands are tightening around Taehyung’s stomach.

“Do you want to switch positions, Yoongbean? It seems as though my little muffin cutie is experiencing a little difficulty.”

So maybe that isn’t the best way to gently break it to Yoongi that it’s probably for the better that they change positions, judging by the way Yoongi bites down on Taehyung’s shoulder, eliciting a yelp from the younger.

“No,” Yoongi huffs. “I’m going to stay the big spoon in this relationship and right now while we’re spooning, I’m fucking older than you!”

Taehyung bites down on his lip, trying his darn hardest not to laugh. “Okay, okay,” He says in surrender, snuggling closer to Yoongi.

They lie in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Comfortable for Taehyung, anyways. He can hear Yoongi grunting uncomfortably every couple of seconds as he adjusts and rearranges his position in a useless attempt to get comfortable. Taehyung contemplates not saying anything and leaving Yoongi to suffer in silence, but Taehyung’s pretty weak when it comes to a certain pastel-haired boy.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna switch, Yoongbean? I promise that even if we switch you’ll be the big spoon in our relationship. Just... not when we cuddle,” Taehyung promises, twisting away to look down at Yoongi’s disgruntled face, a knowing grin on his face.

“Fine. But don’t tell anyone, okay? As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m always big spoon, yes?” When Taehyung nods eagerly, Yoongi loosens his grip on Taehyung so they can both turn around, with Yoongi’s back ending up tucked into Taehyung’s chest.

Yoongi folds his legs up to his chest, making himself into a little ball and it takes all of Taehyung’s strength not to coo at him. Taehyung wraps his arms around Yoongi and rests his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in Yoongi’s manly cologne and hiding a smile in Yoongi’s hair when the elder captures Taehyung’s hands in his smaller ones, winding his fingers through it.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters, tightening his grip on Taehyung’s hands. “Yeah, this is better.”

They fall back into conversation quickly now that both parties are comfortable, when Yoongi says something that makes Taehyung’s blood run cold and hairs stand on the back of his neck.

“Seokjin keeps whining about this pink-haired boy that comes into his café every afternoon and how cute he is when he’s flustered ‘cause he keeps sprouting philosophical bullshit, and I said to him, ‘just be a smooth motherfucker and write your number on his coffee cup’ but he doesn’t listen to me! And so I said to him th–”

“Wait, wait, did you say pink-haired? Philosophical bullshit? Is he possibly talking about Joonie hyung? Oh fuck. Oh fuck!” Taehyung doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so excited.

Oh, fuck, holy fucking shit. Wasn’t Joonie hyung there when Jaebum had fake-asked Jimin on a date (and Taehyung had thought that Jeongguk’s head was going to explode)?!

“Namjoon? Namjoon’s the one Jin’s been thirsting over? What the fuck is this world coming to?” Yoongi wonders aloud.

“But babe, babe, get this: Joonie hyung has been telling me about this crush he’s had on someone called shoulders for ages! Yoongi! Shoulders! Aren’t Jinnie hyung’s shoulders so broad you could land a plane on them?!” Taehyung’s nearly shouting at this point in his excitement. “I knew he wasn’t lying to me! I knew it!”

“Shoulders?” Yoongi’s face is creased in confusion and Taehyung loves Yoongi – he really does – but in this moment, there is only the fact that Yoongi still looks grumpy from his previous failures that he does not reach out and shake Yoongi until he’s seeing stars.

“Shoulders, baby! Shoulders! Oh my god, I think I’m going to pass out, this is happening. This is happening.” Taehyung’s mind is racing a million miles per hour. If Taehyung’s cupid skills worked for Jeongguk and Jimin, well –

“Yoongi, oh my god, I’ve just had the best idea,” Taehyung breathes, looking at Yoongi with blown out eyes. Yoongi looks back, his eyes just as wide with Taehyung’s, but unlike Taehyung’s excitement, Yoongi’s eyes contain fear and hesitation.

“What is it?” Yoongi asks warily.

“My match-making skills were no match for Jiguk, it’s definitely going to work on Jinnie hyung and Joonie hyung,” Taehyung says breathlessly.

“Jiguk? What the fuck is a Jiguk?”

“Jiguk! Jeongguk and Jimin’s ship name! Hyung, get with the times, your mind is still stuck in 2010, seriously!” Taehyung ignores Yoongi’s eyeroll and sits up, wriggling towards the end of the bed.

Yoongi whines tiredly, making grabby hands at Taehyung. “No, Taehyung! Come back, I’m tired!”

Taehyung nearly caves and goes back at the sight of a sleepy, whiny Yoongi, making grabby hands like a toddler. Taehyung can feel himself dying on the inside – he’s always had a weak spot for tiny things, especially in the form of a certain Min Yoongi.  Tired Yoongi usually results in death for everyone, especially those who are stupid enough to annoy him (which, usually is Taehyung, but luckily for Taehyung, Yoongi’s always had a soft spot for him). Conversely, a tired Yoongi brings out a rare side of Yoongi – a side that Taehyung would literally give a right arm to see all the time – the sleepy, disgruntled and whiny side who has no shame making grabby hands at Taehyung. Taehyung wonders if it’s possible to die from his cutie pie muffin cutie boyfriend making sleepy noises and pouting at Taehyung.

It takes all of Taehyung’s effort, as well as the promise of Seokjin hyung and Namjoon hyung getting together to wrench himself away from the adorable sight that is his boyfriend. He plops himself down in front of Yoongi’s desk, clearing away his laptop and loose sheets of paper. He takes out a fresh piece of paper and starts drawing out a mind-map, his mind racing ahead of him. He can already envision it happening, and Taehyung can’t help but smile goofily at the thought of his two hyungs getting together.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yoongi sitting up, scratching his arm (he notes that Yoongi’s hair is sticking up and has to stop himself from squealing like some fucking fangirl). He can see Yoongi leaning over to look at the piece of paper Taehyung’s writing on.

“Tae? What are you doing?” Yoongi asks suspiciously.

“I’m making a mind-map. I’m going to use my match-making skills to make Joonie and Jinnie hyung realise that they’re perfect for each other and then fall in love,” Taehyung replies distractedly, writing inside the bubbles he’s written.

“Match-making…?” Yoongi climbs off the bed and peers over Taehyung’s shoulder, his eyes widening in alarm. “Babe, oh my god, no, please. Leave them alone! Fuck I – don’t fucking do it, I swear to god…”

“Yoongbean, take a seat. Obviously you don’t know anything” – Taehyung ignores Yoongi’s indignant splutters, raising his voice in excitement and anticipation – “This is going to be canon. This will happen! It’s... Namjin. I ship it.”

Notes:

Notes:

ABBY I LOVE U, UR AMAZING AND I HOPE UR SAD SINEWS WILL APPRECIATE THIS HORRIBLE MESS OF A FIC

also!!!!!!!! feel free to come swing by my tumblr if u wanna have a lil chat *wiggles eyebrows* i promise i'm cool like, 32% of the time. (I mostly just cry alot about BTS but u know whats new)

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