Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It happens somewhat like this.

Jeongguk is maybe a little too tipsy to be driving back home.

It’s late, around eleven, the neighborhood is bustling, a rush of wind bristling against his jacket with every smooth bend. The impromptu drive ended up with two extra drinks, and while he’s nowhere near drunk, he’s not completely sober either. Maybe that’s why it’s surprising even to himself how he survives – a flight or fight instinct triggered by many past mishaps has clearly taught him a thing or two.

And as much as he’s used to people throwing themselves at him (often alighted with heated interest) it never happened in a literal sense, especially when he’s driving.

Shit.

Jeongguk slams down on the brakes.

Heart threatens to jump out of its confines as instinct kicks in to protect itself with a hissing panic. He hears the tires screech. The abrupt move throws him forward, narrowly missing stumbling as he puts his boots down on the concrete and steers the handlebars away from the figure and brings it to a hasty halt.

Fucking hell. A low growl building in his throat, Jeongguk angrily shakes off his helmet.

“Are you cra—”

“You almost ran over Leo!”

Jeongguk’s heart leaps out of his chest.

Any thought of barking obscenities vanishes from his cognizance. His jaw goes slack, orbs widening in sheer astonishment as his brain goes completely blank.

He thinks he has lost his mind a little.

Wishful thinking or lost in delusion to the point that he has started seeing concrete images in the middle of the street, because standing in front of him with his arms wide open is a very familiar face. It doesn’t help that the owner of that pretty face looks just as bewildered as he does when the recognition settles in, eyebrows lifting and lips rounding.

And Jeongguk’s still in complete shock when a very irritated-looking Taehyung suddenly huffs. A hard scowl overtaking his handsome features, pinned eyes narrowing dangerously into a glare.

“Oh. You.”

Oh you, is correct because what could be the odds.

“Me.” Jeongguk’s lips flatten. Trying to bring some semblance of nonchalance to his tone as he leans his bike on one foot. The beat of his heart is still loud, making his skin crawl with how close he was to hitting Taehyung, to watch him dying on the concrete, bleeding and doomed to –

“The hell are you doing jumping in the middle of a busy road?”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, features twisted in poorly concealed repulsion and stance tense, defensive. “None of your business.”

“None of my business?” Jeongguk squawks in disbelief. “It is my business if you’re planning to come under my wheels –”

“Well, you shouldn’t be doing a backflip with your bike if you’re so concerned with who comes under your wheels.”

Huh, Jeongguk blinks, what the fuck?

“What the fuck are you talking about – ?”

But Taehyung doesn’t give him any chance to continue, doesn’t even look remotely interested in what he has to say, because in one quick motion, he’s crouching down, right in the middle of the pavement, completely ignoring Jeongguk and his rebuke.

Jeongguk blinks at the empty space before he steers the handlebars slightly more to the side to look down at the barista. The street lamp pours down on his hunched frame from behind, illuminating his blonde hair like a daffodil bud. He is scanning the ground with wide, curious eyes, muttering something incoherent under his breath; soft puff of air escapes his mouth as his loose hair falls all over his face.

Jeongguk promptly pushes himself straighter into his seat and squints. Maybe Taehyung dropped his wallet, or something microscopic with the way he’s scanning the concrete. Perhaps jewelry. Taehyung did have a thing for rings and earrings from what he has observed.

The barista is clutching the arms of his shoulder bag tightly, and from what Jeongguk can make out he’s also holding a… leaf? And a pair of twigs? Jeongguk’s brows furrow and he ponders asking if Taehyung wants help considering he can see the beginning of a slow pout on the other’s face as he doesn’t seem to be able to find what he’s looking for.

But then there is a ruffle of movement, and an excited noise from Taehyung.

Jeongguk follows his movement and then when he sees it. 

Oh.

It’s a baby squirrel.

Or something like that.

Its body is too young and frail to be identified which poor animal found itself on the dirty streets of Seoul. Fur thin and patchy, color of pale sand that mixes too well with the cracked grey of the concrete. It drags itself with tiny determined pushes, its limbs too weak to hold his weight.

“C’mon, Leo,” Taehyung murmurs to the tiny animal, soft but with a serious lilt as he carefully scoops the squirrel onto the leaf with the help of his two twigs. “Wrong place, buddy. We need to get you to safety or other people like rowdy gang leader with their big scary motorcycles would try to run over you and kill you.”

What?

“Is that thing Leo?” Jeongguk blurts out before he can think twice.

Taehyung completely ignores him.

He stands up, and there’s a moment where the barista feebly glances at him under his messy bangs, eyes darting up and down his form as his judgy stare pierces straight into Jeongguk’s skull. Then, as if Jeongguk hadn’t just asked him a question, Taehyung lifts his chin and turns away.

Jeongguk gapes at the eccentric gesture. What an asshole.

He watches Taehyung – surprisingly – look both sides before slowly crossing the sidewalk. Oh, wow, so he could do that.

Jeongguk had always found Seoul disgusting. But this part of the neighborhood in Hongdae was quite peaceful in comparison to the rest of the crumbling city – with no speeding cars, and no gangsters claiming territory. A few people and students milling past Jeongguk give him questioning looks, because what kind of an idiot just lounges on his bike in the middle of the street? 

Jeongguk isn’t fazed by any of it.

He watches Taehyung kneel again at the edge of the path walk, balancing the leaf in his palm and gently depositing Leo into the bushes. The barista leans in, arms wrapping around his knees as he watches the squirrel for a minute.

A part of him forces himself to start the bike and move, but everything in him can’t do anything but stare. Folks move past Taehyung, some almost tripping over his massive lump on the sidewalk, and something almost protective washes over Jeongguk, to go there and maybe punch that pudgy kid with a high nose who is sneering at Taehyung after almost tripping over him.

Can’t he fucking see Taehyung is sitting there? Blind fuck.

Taehyung, for his part, doesn’t stop the flow of his “Sorry!” “I’m sorry!” “Just a sec, please!” He has a small guilty smile on his face but he doesn’t budge away from his spot.

Jeongguk thinks he’s kind of stupid.

Beautiful, grouchy, and kind of stupid. All synonyms for Taehyung.

A subtle movement of Taehyung’s eyes as he glances behind him, towards the opposite street with hesitant eyes, makes the biker lazily turn to look as well.

Perhaps calling Seoul disgusting was quite an understatement on his part.

A flaw.

One thing the city never seems to run out of. Cultivating on the man’s mistakes, on the counterparts, on the cracked open rat holes that feed the audacious criminal mouths while they act holier than thou from the rest. It’s a jungle of predators, bloody and filled with contempt.

The streets love it.

It attracts it even, swallows it, nurtures it, and returns it multiplied.

He had been too captivated by Taehyung to notice anything strange, but now that he looks closer, his eyebrows tighten with dread.

A territory being unclaimed is just an excuse for people to bleed each other more. Hongdae has always been a neutral ground. It’s not uncommon for the rats to be out of their holes here. It shouldn’t be surprising, alarming even. But Jeongguk had no prior knowledge that Taehyung would go tussling with one of them.

A group of rugged men is lounging casually on the corner of the elevated curb opposite them. Cigarettes flame passing between their fingers as they grinned titillatingly at Taehyung.

Jeongguk might have an idea what occurred. The glares going back and forth are ugly. Taehyung is not backing down from his cold and cutting scowl. It’s nice to see Jeongguk is not the only one at the end of the intense repulsion, but at the same time, it’s insulting to be in the same bracket as those rats.

Jeongguk would never look at Taehyung like that.

With lewdness, filthy.

Jeongguk’s heart stumbles, and the bike almost falls on his legs.

Like something caged is frantic to break out of its restraints. It’s desperate; it knocks the wind out of him. Resorting to drumming an agitated melody on his chest until he accepts his fate and frees it from its confinement.

It’s like Jeongguk was caught up in a trance all this time and someone just lifted the veil.

Beautiful, grouchy, stupid.

But so brave.

Guarding over something so trivial, apologizing needlessly to passersby who could very well walk around his form, and staying there to make sure the squirrel makes it far into the bushes to be harassed by the group of thugs who would undoubtedly drag the poor animal out to step all over its tiny frame just to hear the sickening crunch under their boots. 

It’s only after Taehyung is done making sure the squirrel is going to be safe that he stands up, dusting off his hands and turning around, and finds Jeongguk still there, helmet on the tank and staring intently at him.

Taehyung’s face momentarily morphs into one of shock, but then quickly narrows into a glare, any surprise gone from his features and replaced with a sense of annoyance.

It’s rude. Taehyung can be so rude sometimes. He’s still beautiful, but so rude. But Jeongguk won’t allow Taehyung to be synonymous with rudeness though. It’s fine. Jeongguk most likely did something to deserve Taehyung’s repulsion.

Taehyung flicks his head and walks past the biker without a word. He has a spring to his step as he makes his way down the sidewalk and away from him. Jeongguk chuckles and watches him go, watches the skip to his feet and how his blonde hair bounces with every movement. He stays there for ages, just watching until Taehyung merges with the street and disappears from his view.

Jeongguk sighs as he holds a hand over his heart.

It’s beating so loud he could hear it in his ears.

Which was devastating because now that he finally understood that the flutter of his heart was no sign of an imminent heart attack, but just his body telling him he had an undiagnosed crush.

Jeongguk would have preferred a heart attack at this point.

The dam has broken and all the thoughts about a certain someone have penetrated his skull.

Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about him.

He thinks about him when he wakes up the next day, and the next day, and the next day. He thinks about him when he’s fixing his bike in the garage, fingers smeared with grease and sweat clinging to his body, and yet his mind circulating in circles about the boy with soft blonde hair and angry brows. He thinks about him when he’s having dinner, surrounded by his friends, when he’s driving, and he passes by a random bakery and a whiff of sweetness finds his nose.

He thinks about him when he opens his phone and searches for the handle. Thinks about him when he has scrolled past hundreds of pictures of diabetes-inducing food just for one glimpse of him tucked in the corner of the frames. He goes viral every other day, racking up hundreds of thousands of likes on the selfies alone. His work posts do comparatively less in numbers, because who in their right mind would stare at food when there is a dessert right there.

He has a weird smile, Jeongguk thinks, kind of like a box that shows his entire front molars. It’s cute. Jeongguk traces the picture, on the apple of his cheeks and wonders how the fuck this guy managed to make him go fucking bonkers over his weird fucking smile.

Doesn’t think at all when he saves the picture.

“You know, you gave him flowers, you’re making him cookies – just yesterday I saw you stalking his Twitter, you also have been sulking for days.”

“I haven’t been sulking.”

“Oh, so you’re not denying the stalking part. That’s interesting.”

“Don’t talk bullshit,” Jeongguk grumbles, sneakily closing his Twitter where Taehyung’s tweet from 2021 was pulled up. “So what, you think I got a crush on some blonde dude who makes desserts for a living? What am I, ten? I’m trying to apologize here, Park.”

Jimin has that look on his face, the one that says you’re so fucking defensive I don’t know what to say to you anymore, and other where he’s trying to read Jeongguk, but doesn’t need to try too hard because if Jimin isn’t one of the most cunning bikers, he’s also the most observant. Jeongguk still hasn’t mastered the art of lying to him.

A part of Jeongguk wants to tell him the truth, never having been good at keeping secrets from him before now, but for some reason, admitting it out loud makes it feel more real, so he keeps it to himself, allowing Jimin to play detective all he wants.

He doesn’t have to try too hard.

“Why?” Jimin leans back on the couch, hands folded behind his head as he stares down at Jeongguk’s sprawled out form adjacent to him nonchalantly. “You didn’t even do anything.”

And there it is.

“Exactly!” Jeongguk lets out a disgruntled noise, throwing his phone on the carpet in frustration. “I didn’t even do anything! Why the fuck am I apologizing?”

“’Cause you’ve got a crush on him?”

“No!” Jeongguk says defensively, pretending a disgust at the thought, even though the blush rising on his cheek probably gave him away. “Fuck off, okay? Don’t bait me into this bullshit. I don’t know him, nor do I care enough to have developed a crush.” He scoffs. “I’m not interested in him or his cute fucking smile or his stupid-looking pretty face —”

Jeongguk pauses.

Jimin slaps a hand on his mouth, too entertained to stop the smile from bursting on his lips.

Fuck this guy.

Jeongguk throws his hands in the air.

“Fine! I might be a little curious, but that’s it. It’s not going to go anywhere because he hates fucking my guts.”

“Oh, but Kookie. I don’t think he hates you.”

“Absolutely detests me. Right. Have you seen the way he glares at me? He’s lucky he’s pretty, and I’m kinda – y’know—”

“In love with him?”

“—intimidated,” Jeongguk glares. Jimin bats his lashes innocently. “He’s so fucking scary, okay? I don’t wanna test my chances, or I’d have seriously asked what the fuck is his issue with me.”

“Maybe he’s nervous?” Jimin says, his chin placed on one of his bent knees. The biker props himself up on his elbows, frowning as Jimin continues. “Or embarrassed? I don’t know. If the guy I lied about being my boyfriend to the entire internet stands outside my café every day without a miss, I’d probably look like I want to leave the country as well.”

Jeongguk thumbs at the patch of denim around the hole in his jeans. “That’s the problem. He doesn’t look nervous to see me. Maybe he did on the first day, but lately all he does is scowl at me like he hopes for my brakes to fail me when I’m going over the speed limit.”

“That’s awful. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Yeah, no. I like my body without any knives intact.”

In the end, the cookies turn out a little dry. And Jimin tells him not to give these to his enemy crush – a literal baker – if he actually wants to impress him. Jeongguk can’t even figure out what he was thinking, trying to make apology cookies for someone who literally does it for a living.

They settle for slapping some wonky frosting on it and eat them as it is.

The next day, Jimin gets a stomachache.

“Are you stalking me?”

A strange want pulls at Jeongguk’s chest. Makes him want to padlock the view in front of him for a long time to come.

Jeongguk likes to believe he’s reasonably a decent mannered person. He doesn’t do drugs, he hasn’t killed anyone yet, and he has never gone to prison, even though the police would love to have his pleasant company in the federal joint on racketeering charges.

He’s more likely to settle things with a silly threat or dropping money here and there, smash upsmash up a poor vehicle if things get worse, as opposed to rampage anger and framing murder as accidents.

He’s a good citizen.

But it’s hard to be a good citizen when Taehyung looks like that.

Body wet, and a white shirt sagging and leaving nothing to the imagination. Jeongguk’s sure that if he looked closely, he could see the dark outline of his nipples visible through the shirt. Taehyung is dripping from head to toe, and Jeongguk kind of wants to run his tongue across his collarbones and cover his beautiful tanned skin in purple and pink love bites.

He wants to crowd Taehyung against the closest brick wall and corrupt him, do immoral, perverted things to him.

Jeongguk ignores the question and cards his wet hair off his forehead. “Want a lift?”

Taehyung’s scowl worsens.

“Don’t talk to me,” he spits before spinning on his heels and continuing walking, leaving Jeongguk gawking at the empty space left behind him.

“Wait,” Jeongguk all but follows him along on his bike in a lazy pace, helmet sitting securely on his gas tank. Slowly turning desperate. “Listen, it’s raining. You’re soaking wet. I can give you a lift if you want?”

Taehyung squints at nothing. Raindrops sit onto his lashes, descend and catch on the curve of his upper lip, dipping on the jut out of his bottom lip from how firmly he has them pursed. He glares up at Jeongguk in a way that would have been way more effective if he weren’t looking so adorable, blinking the rain out of it.

He scoffs.

“On that thing? No thanks.”

“What’s wrong with my bike?” The biker frowns. There can never be anything wrong with his bike. She’s perfect.

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll risk my life riding that shit with you. You’ll get us killed.”

“I'll go slow for you,” Jeongguk says, looking at the street in front then back at Taehyung. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, okay? I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“Don’t care,” Taehyung mutters, shivering to himself. “You’d be evil enough to fuck up the drive just so you can get rid of me.”

Wow. Jeongguk snorts. It’s endearing how serious he looks while saying that. Jeongguk has trouble keeping his eyes to himself.

“I won’t. But is your next best plan to walk home and die of hypothermia?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and fastens his steps as if he actually thinks he could outpace Jeongguk on his bike.

“That’s exactly the plan. Could you leave me alone now?”

Taehyung might be the most beautiful man he has ever seen, but Jeongguk has never met someone so insufferable.

“You’ll get sick,” he says it as a matter of fact. A little bit of frustration leaking into his tone. “I can – I don’t know – I can ride next to you?”

What the fuck is he saying?

“Or like, no, not next to you, but a bit behind. Just in case. I’ve got an extra hoodie in my bag if you want, or I could go get you an umbrella from – actually, no, that store’s closed. Okay, but I could—”

A loud, strangled-up noise leaves Taehyung as he stops short to avert his face to the sky. He looks so serene, if not for his hands clutching the air in front of him in fists in desperate attempts to strangle the air.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to know if that’s his neck Taehyung’s pretending to throttle.

“Stop,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. His dark eyes met Jeongguk’s dead on. He looks pissed for lack of a better word. He also looks good, but that’s not important. “— talking to me.”

“I – okay,” Jeongguk doesn’t plan on doing that, or leaving. Though he could try for Taehyung’s sake.

He continues trailing alongside him – crawling at Taehyung’s set walking speed, mouth completely shut as silence permeates them. He tries to scourge for any embarrassment or nervousness on Taehyung’s face that explains his committed abhorrence to Jeongguk’s presence, but there was nothing as such.

The barista’s wavy locks are damp, sticking to his forehead, skin flushed rosy, his brows are angrily furrowed but face so weary. Jeongguk could see him shivering and he wondered for the hundredth time why he’s not calling a taxi and is so dead set on getting sick.

Taehyung catches him staring, and it's almost like his face alone annoys Taehyung because he immediately turns red from rage filling his already flushed face, eyes blazing and curious. What? They seem to demand, annoyed.

Jeongguk looks away.

The quiet doesn’t even last a full thirty seconds before Taehyung is abruptly staggering forward with a loud sneeze.

“Shit,” Jeongguk curses (talking again.) “You are getting drenched. Seriously, you need to wait out the rain before –”

Jeongguk halts his thoughts when Taehyung turns to him swiftly. The biker haphazardly hits the brakes when he sees Taehyung strutting up to him with a newfound motive. He doesn’t have time to prepare for it, and doesn't even know what he should be prepared for. He barely has time to put his feet on the concrete before he’s got a face full of Taehyung two inches away from him.

Now, he was definitely not prepared for that.

Jeongguk’s mouth goes dry.

“Hey, what are you –”

“Shut up.”

Warm breath hit his face. It’s so in contrast with the venom dripping from Taehyung’s mouth that he doesn’t even mind it.

Taehyung’s voice is firm, eyebrows drawn together in a something that almost looks like anger. He doesn’t focus on it, doesn’t register the storm of fury swirling in Taehyung’s eyes, doesn’t focus on anything besides Taehyung’s warm body pressed against his.

Their mouths inches apart.

A hand trails up his chest, grabbing onto the lapels of his leather jacket and jerking him close, their noses bumping.

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that I don’t want to talk to you?” Taehyung whispers.

Jeongguk’s heart pounds against his lungs.

He lets go of one of the handlebars to grab lightly at Taehyung’s waist.

“Why?” He whispers, eyes following the raindrop trailing down the bridge of his nose, to his philtrum, and disappears somewhere between his lips.

Jeongguk is suddenly envious of a raindrop.

“Any particular reason why I should stay away from you?”

What if I don’t want to?

Taehyung steps closer to him, grazing his nose along Jeongguk’s. It tingles where Taehyung touches him. Make his skin buzz when Taehyung huffs on his mouth.

“There is not only one reason why you should stay away from me, rowdy gang leader.”

“I – wait,” Jeongguk leans away enough to cock his head to the side. Incredibly confused. “I think there’s been a small misunderstanding. I’m not a gang leader. It’s actually a group. A biker group who—”

“I said, don’t talk to me!”

Jeongguk’s lips zip up immediately.

He has to make a conscious effort not to narrow his eyes at the back of the infuriating male. He scoffs back.

“You say that as if I don’t notice how you have been ogling me all this time. Are you really that afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung lets out a baffled scoff. The collar of his jacket tightens around his neck, digs into his skin so that it gets a little harder to breathe. “Who do you think you are?”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to say it. He shouldn’t say it. Taehyung isn’t in his most jubilant mood, toying with him when he got Jeongguk’s neck in the palm of his hand isn’t the wisest idea. But there is something about the proximity that renders him brain-dead and unable to think, because he is grinning before he can stop.

“Your boyfriend?” 

He meant to tease. A little playful attempt to break the ice or maybe address the elephant in the room. But the small, minuscule, tiny, barely there laugh that bursts out of his tightly pursed lips seems to make everything worse.

It’s like in slow motion, he watches Taehyung’s face fall. Any sign of anger evaporates from his face, hands loosen over Jeongguk’s jacket before it slips away completely.

Jeongguk always thought Taehyung shone like a sun at the small glimpses he got of him, behind the glass window, or through a pixelated screen. Not particularly due to his hair color. He is bright when he laughs, he is colorful when he smiles, he shines when Hoseok offers help, and he shies away behind the unblemished clouds when someone compliments his food.

He is a blinding red sunset of anger when he sees Jeongguk.

But right now, he is grey, a bit sad looking, like a lone light bulb in an abandoned house.

Jeongguk meant it as a tease but Taehyung’s hurt is all too genuine.

Jeongguk sobers completely.

“Hey—” he reaches for Taehyung’s hands, but the other snatches them away.

“You’re an asshole,” he murmurs, sounding so fucking forlorn for some reason it chips away at Jeongguk’s heart.

“Shit,” Jeongguk leans forward to grab the front of Taehyung’s wet shirt and pulls. The helmet on the tank falls off as Taehyung’s chest makes impact with his own. Jeongguk ignores it as Taehyung gasps hotly on his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“What are you – let me go.”

Taehyung steps back, chest heaving and Jeongguk is still frowning as Taehyung regards him with a dubious expression.

This time however, Jeongguk raises an eyebrow right back, and raises a hand between them. A silver hoop earring in his hand. Taehyung gasps and slaps his hands around his ears, finding one of the lobes empty.

“Yours?”

“Give it back.”

Jeongguk pulls his hands back, meeting the other’s flat, slightly irritated gaze with a blank stare of his own. He forces himself to hold back, adamant on keeping Taehyung there for a moment longer.

He just hopes he doesn’t get punched in the face.

Though he wouldn’t mind that either. Taehyung does have beautiful fingers. It would be a privilege.

“You have to be kidding me. Not only a vandal, but you’re also a thief?”

“You know that wasn’t me. And it’s not stealing if you know I have it, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Jeongguk raises a brow. “You prefer something else then? I can improvise.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Jeongguk. Give me my earring back.”

Oh. Taehyung knew his name. He wonders if he asked, or just caught it slipping in a conversation and it was ingrained in his brain forever. Either way, Jeongguk is ecstatic.

“Hmm. I would love to fuck with you though. Mind making an exception for me?”

“What?” Taehyung froze in shock. “That’s – are you out of your mind? What is your problem? Give me my earring back!”

“C’mere,” Jeongguk grabs his arm and tugs him forward. Taehyung looks pissed, but Jeongguk just grins as he makes a quick work of tucking his hair out of the way and sliding his earring back into his lobe. “Now, why don’t you stop being difficult for one second and tell me what got you so sullen earlier, hm?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me.”

Jeongguk sighs but lets Taehyung go, who does it in a heartbeat. Taehyung steps back, checking both of his ears before he turns back around.

It’s not even been two minutes before Taehyung suddenly stops in his tracks to hurl another glare at him.

“Why are you following me?”

Jeongguk audibly groans. “This is a public road. Fuck. Why do you complain so much?”

“Why can’t you just leave then?” Taehyung scowls, visibly offended. “You’re the one crawling at a machine that is supposed to go 200.”

“Uh –”

That’s a good point.

“I ran out of gas.”

“Oh, how convenient.” Taehyung snorts dryly, speeding up once again. “You ran out of gas exactly two steps behind me.”

“Yep. Gotta go real slow now. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Love being trailed through dark alleys by my personal bodyguard.”

“Could be your boyfriend too.”

Jeongguk looks away the moment he feels Taehyung’s head snapping towards him. Fuck. He definitely heard that.

“Did you say something?”

Jeongguk turns to him then, eyes wide and innocent.

“Hm? No. Just – lots of bad things going around in the night. You need to be careful.”

Taehyung’s suspicious eyes turn away from him, but his steps come to another hasty halt the next second. Jeongguk sighs as he halts beside him.

“What now?” He follows the barista’s line of sight that ends up with a digital clock signifying it’s past midnight.

Taehyung’s shoulder slumps. And Jeongguk confusedly looked between the clock and Taehyung.

“I missed my train,” the barista mutters.

Oh.

Jeongguk hopes the little dance he does in his head doesn’t appear on his face.

“Ah. That’s bad,” Jeongguk pretends to click his tongue, watches Taehyung’s defeated stance and clears his throat loudly. “Just let me drive you home.”

Taehyung shifts to look at him. There is no complaint on his face this time, resignation finally settling in, or Jeongguk is just that irresistible for Taehyung to say no. 

“You clearly don’t want to take a taxi. I’m your safest bet.”

“But it’s close to midnight.”

“My bike isn’t going to transform into a pumpkin, Cinderella. Hop on.”

Taehyung glares at him, albeit a bit halfhearted. He appears more nervous than anything.

“It’s not – it’s late. And I’m not riding that shit with you.”

“The hell you won’t. You don’t have to tell me your address. Just give me the closest landmark to your place and I’ll drop you there. Then you can go back to your stupid palace and I can sleep peacefully without any guilty conscience and your pretty face all up in my business.”

“You’re so rude.”

“As if you’re the nicest in the whole world.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Do you wanna get dried up first? I have a hoodie you can change into. Hopefully, the rain would stop by then.”

“Fine.”

Jeongguk pulls his jacket off his shoulder, trying to fight off the cold that sinks into his bones from the air conditioner wafting through one of the stores. It gives him something to hold onto as they walk down the subway station, avoiding the rusty railing to keep his hands clean.

Taehyung doesn’t slow down for a second. The moment they are inside, he peels away from Jeongguk’s side and speed-walks towards the restroom signs with his hoodie tightly clutched in his hands.

Despite the one-sided animosity, Jeongguk stays behind to grab some cheap t-shirts and pants down the convenience store tucked along the corridors, one for himself and another for Taehyung. He thinks a little too hard before reaching for two packs of boxers as well. He’s kind like that.

By the time he pushes into the men’s restroom, his balls are about to fall off from being scrunched up like a sponge. He impatiently scans the empty space before calling out.

“Taehyung?”

There is no response but the rustling from one of the stalls stops. Jeongguk follows the sound and stops in front of the closed door, raising his hand to knock.

“Hey, open up for a second.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer him but Jeongguk wouldn’t expect anything else from him. For a fleeting moment, he did wonder if the other had fooled him and sneaked away when the biker wasn’t looking. But then he hears the bolt being unlocked and Taehyung’s head peeks out from between the gap.

“Oh – whoa.”

He’d taken his shirt off. Towel dried wet strands all over his eyes, making him look more human, more real, and less of a walking angel if Jeongguk ignored his lack of clothing.

He pointedly avoids looking below Taehyung’s neck.

“Got pants,” he stretches his hand near the edge of the door, letting Taehyung make the choice of taking it or snapping the door on his face.

The barista glances at Jeongguk’s offering hand, at the small bundle with the boxer packs on top. There shouldn’t be any embarrassment. They are both grown men with dicks and balls, yet the raised eyebrow Taehyung gives the item and then him makes him internally flush.

Taehyung snatches the items without a word, shutting the door on Jeongguk’s face.

Well.

Jeongguk strips off his own soaked t-shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it onto the counter. His jeans were worse, heavy and sagging past his hips. He unbuttons them, pushing them down along with his boxers and stepping out, grabbing the fresh pair and pulling them on.

He was in the middle of buckling them when the stall behind him creaked open.

Taehyung pauses with the hand on the knob, wide eyes touring at the expanse of his toned chest before he looks away with a clear of his throat.

Jeongguk finishes buckling his pants slowly, eyeing the awkward male and very much ignoring the heat drilling into his body.

“All done?” He picks up his discarded clothes and throws them into the plastic bag he asked the shopkeeper for. Picking up his fresh t-shirt, he finally turns to look at Taehyung.

Taehyung turns away instantly, hands moving up to smooth his wet strands as if he hadn’t just been caught staring at Jeongguk. The biker raises a disbelieving eyebrow. 

Was Taehyung just checking him out?

The biker tugs the t-shirt over his head and picks up his plastic bag with his wet clothes and his helmet.

“Let’s go.”

Taehyung immediately turns towards the door, already halfway out before Jeongguk can even finish speaking. The hoodie is drowning his lithe figure. It’s extra large on him too but it looks better on the barista than it ever did on him.

Jeongguk wonders if it’s creepy if he asks Taehyung to return the hoodie without washing it.

By the time he steps out of the station, the rain has completely stopped, which is a huge relief.

Taehyung is already by the bike, arms crossed and one foot impatiently tapping against the wet ground.

“Can you hurry up?” he calls out.

Jeongguk slows down on purpose.

“Why? Not enjoying my delightful company?”

“Not quite.”

“Ouch.”

Jeongguk pops open the storage compartment, shoving his plastic bag inside and securing it down. Taehyung insists he would hold his and who is Jeongguk to deny him anything. If Taehyung wants to be stubborn, he’s happily allowed to do so. If he drops it, Jeongguk is just going to have to take a fucking U-turn to pick it up again. No biggie.

Taehyung stands a good five feet away, expression borderline conflicted as he stares at the bike. The distance between them has started to annoy Jeongguk. He is not even aware of what he ever did for the other to hate him so fervently, but it has started to get on his nerves.

There has to be a reason.

The biker grabs his helmet and steps up to the barista. Taehyung watches him with his brows raised curiously, but they go wide when Jeongguk doesn’t pause a short step away from him.

“What –”

One tattooed arm loops around his waist and pulls him close.

The barista’s breath hitches. It reverberates against the biker’s chest as Jeongguk squeezes his waist and Taehyung puts a hand on his chest to put some distance between their faces.

“I’m not going to eat you. You can come closer if you’re cold. Body heat and all, y’know.”

“I don’t need your body heat.” Taehyung stutters.

“Shame,” Jeongguk feigns disappointment. “You have a personal body heater that’s willingly letting you cling onto him, and you don’t want that? Real shame, baby.”

“Will you stop calling me that?” Taehyung groans.

“Not romantic enough for you?”

“Not even remotely close. I’m not your baby.”

“Yet.”

Taehyung makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat but he doesn’t push him away. Jeongguk isn’t even holding him that tightly. The hands on his chest move to his shoulder and the biker anticipates a shove, a small nudge that tells him to back off, but the fingers press intently into his biceps, a large palm holding him in place.

Taehyung is so confusing.

“Jeongguk.”

“Just teasing,” Jeongguk grins, loosening his arm. “You’re allowed to punch me in the face if I make you uncomfortable, okay? Full authority.”

He’s enjoying this more than he should. Every disinterest he has feigned around Taehyung has come crashing down like the rain on the concrete tonight. Or perhaps because it’s just Taehyung who says one thing, and does something entirely else, words so profound, yet his eyes betray him on every sweep it takes of Jeongguk’s body.

“Gonna have to touch you for a second. Don’t scream.”

“You’re already touching me.”

“Over your clothes,” Jeongguk removes the arm from his waist to push back Taehyung’s damp strands off his forehead. “Not your skin.”

The biker barely hears the whisper of what-the-fuck before he busies himself with brushing all the hair out of his forehead, leaving it bare. Jeongguk reaches for the other hand holding the helmet and gently slips it over Taehyung’s head. He corrects it with nimble fingers to help it sit more comfortably on his head and does the strap under his chin.

“Comfy?” Taehyung bobs his head into a nod. Jeongguk puts a hand inside the visor to smooth his bangs out of his eyes. Taehyung’s eyes briefly shut. The biker flips the visor and steps back. “Keep the visor down, kay? Or the wind will hurt your eyes.”

After another obedient nod from Taehyung, Jeongguk throws a leg over his bike and kicks up the stand. The bike sways under him before he steadies both feet on the ground and twists the key into the ignition, engine jerking to a start.

He looks behind his shoulder for Taehyung to follow and the barista nervously flicks the foot pegs and tries to copy how he saw Jeongguk mounting the bike.

“Just swing a leg over, same way you’d mount a horse.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse before, so I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Great,” Jeongguk replies dryly as he watches the other struggle. “Imagine you’re straddling something, like a pillow or a lap, and then slide in close.”

Taehyung whips his head to look at him in horror. Jeongguk just amorously grins before grabbing Taehyung’s hand and putting it on his shoulder.

After three clumsy attempts and ha undred complaints, Taehyung finally, cautiously climbs onto the back of the bike, leaving a gap between them as he sets both of his hands loosely on the biker’s shoulders.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna fly off like that,” Jeongguk grabs one of Taehyung’s hands and wraps it around his waist, tugging him forward. The slant of the passenger seat sends him straight flush into Jeongguk’s back. “Hands here. Not around my neck, okay? I will choke.”

“Damn.”

Jeongguk whips around, hoping to find a wiggly smile on Taehyung’s face, but all he finds are Taehyung’s eyes blinking, mirroring some form of deadpan.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as he turns back around, hand leaving one handlebar to grab at Taehyung’s locked hands, tucking him further into his body.

“Either you hold on properly, or you get off my bike.”

“You just want my hands all over you.” Taehyung scoffs into his ear, but shifts to settle against him more comfortably. “Are you ticklish?”

“I will literally kill you.”

With two minutes of more arguing, Jeongguk snatches the plastic bag from Taehyung’s hand and hooks it into one of his handlebars. Taehyung grumbles into his neck, and if the side of his helmet hits Jeongguk’s skull more than on various occasions than he could count, he just tells himself it’s an accident.

Jeongguk drives safely. And maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn’t go over the speed limit. Taehyung’s hold tightens ever so slightly at any cutting corner, muscles quivering as he squeezes the life out of Jeongguk’s stomach. The biker tries to make the turn as gently as possible.

He glances at his rearview often to find Taehyung’s squeezed shut behind the visor, but then they gradually blink open as the time passes. The helmet amplifies the drowning effect of his eyes when Jeongguk catches sight of them in the mirror.

By the time they stop for a red light, Taehyung is comfortable enough to let go of Jeongguk to settle back, and when Jeongguk purrs the engine to life once again, he just easily comes back to settle against him, hands locking around Jeongguk’s waist and chin tucked on his shoulder.

It’s hard to remove his eyes from the reflection of their close heads knocking into each other. He knew Taehyung was doing it on purpose. But Jeongguk found it too endearing to complain, even though he’s sure the side of his skull has holes punched in it.

The address Taehyung gave him is a good distance away. It takes more than twenty minutes for Jeongguk to stop in front of a good-looking apartment complex and another twenty minutes for Taehyung to get off the bike without managing to crack his skull open onto the concrete.

“Okay! I’m gonna put my feet on the ground!”

Jeongguk sighs, balancing the bike steadily on his two feet as Taehyung wiggles with his entire body on top. “Take your time.”

Taehyung jumps onto the ground. His body swaying and nearly falling on his ass if not for Jeongguk to grab his arm and hold him steady. Taehyung’s hands shake as he takes off the helmet. Jeongguk tries to help him, but Taehyung seems to be in a hurry as he shoves the helmet into Jeongguk’s hand and grabs his plastic bag.

“Thank you for dropping me home,” The barista says, flicking his hair off his forehead and taking a step back, lips pursed into a very forced smile. “See you never!”

Jeongguk doesn’t really think much when his hand moves to grab Taehyung’s wrist.

Taehyung turns to him swiftly, confusion loud on his face. He looks down at the accusing hand, then at Jeongguk, features hardening.

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you hate me?” Jeongguk blurts out before he can think.

The hardness doesn’t melt on Taehyung’s face, but it stutters enough for the confusion to overlap it by a large margin. Taehyung blinks, brows furrowing like he quite can’t understand the question.

“Excuse me?” Taehyung repeats, incredibly puzzled.

Jeongguk licks his lips, loosening his hold on the wrist.

“Did I do something?” he asks, carefully watching Taehyung’s change in expression. If this is the last time Taehyung wants to see him, Jeongguk needs to know what he did. “You’re okay with my friends, but you don’t like me. Why?”

“Your friends are nice,” Taehyung says quietly, taking back his wrist and turning around properly. “Nicer than you, of course.” Of course. “You’re kind of an asshole.” Jesus Christ. What’s with all the honesty.

“Okay,” Jeongguk nods. He can take the truth when it is said bravely. “I still don’t understand. I’ve never been an asshole to you.”

“Are you joking?”

“I wish, man.”

Taehyung stares at him for a minute, but then he sighs out, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Jeongguk.

“You’re confusing.”

“You’re not the easiest mystery to solve either, baby.”

“Why are you being like this suddenly?”

Jeongguk frowns. He sits back onto his bike and mirrors Taehyung, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Like what?”

“Like this. Dropping me home, and – and being almost flirty,” Taehyung’s eyes widen then, and he exclaims so loudly it scares a cat skidding down the street. “I’m not hooking up with you!”

Jeongguk’s brows shoot past his hairline.

What?

“Not that it’s a bad thing, but it’s not for me, alright? Especially with you. How can you ask that of me?”

Jeongguk didn’t ask him anything besides his address. But Taehyung goes off like he’s in his own world.

“Fuck. You’re an asshole! You know that? I was so wrong about you! Was this a ploy of yours? Hm? To get me home and corner me and shoot your shot?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrow in question and Jeongguk hesitantly opens his mouth but Taehyung goes off on him once again.

“Well, it won’t work now. So whatever bad intentions you’ve got with me, end them right now.”

“That’s the most I’ve heard you talk all night,” Jeongguk speaks, amazed. “Is that what I have to do? Piss you off so you’ll talk to me?”

“Shut up. You don’t want to talk to me.”

“I do,” Jeongguk scrunches his nose, offended, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know why, but for some fucked up reason my fucked up brain stops functioning around you. I mean – I do want to do more than just talk, y’know, but talk is fine too. Talking is good. I would love to talk.” Jeongguk sits up straighter, offering a handshake. “Coffee?”

Taehyung swats his hand away.

“You should know I can’t just do casuals with you. I don’t know if you’re acting clueless or I was just so good at being subtle in the letter, you didn’t get anything.”

Jeongguk freezes.

“Letter?” the biker blinks, incredulously. “What letter?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard he nearly tosses them out of his own skull. “The letter.”

“I’m not fucking around, Taehyung. What letter?”

Taehyung fixes him with a look. It’s kind of scary how his face can so effortlessly go from a myriad of expressions to a blank canvas.

“I’m not fucking around either. You’d better fix that tone when you’re talking to me or I’ll send you tumbling down the concrete with your precious bike on top of you.”

Jeongguk quickly raises his hand in surrender and nods, oddly riveted.

“Sorry. I – sorry. That was out of line. I’m just trying to understand because I don’t know what you’re talking about. Which letter?”

“Are you mocking me?”

“What – no!”

“You really didn’t get my letter?”

Jeongguk cocks his head. “Your letter? Why would I get your – ” The next breath gets knocked out of his chest. He can’t believe this. “You wrote me a letter?”

Taehyung blushes. He blushes. It’s a blush. Pink dotting his cheek as he shies away from Jeongguk. “I – I had to communicate with you somehow,” he says, fidgeting with the plastic bag in his hand as he still avoids the biker’s eyes. “You wouldn’t come inside the café and I was so embarrassed to go to you.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

Taehyung looks up to squint his eyes at him, but he also looks relieved.

“If you read my letter, you wouldn’t ask me that stupid question. You really didn’t read it?”

“I didn’t know you wrote me a letter until now, Taehyung.”

“Oh, well.”

“Who did you give it to?”

Taehyung shifts on his spot. He takes a minuscule step closer, and Jeongguk feels his own breath hitch at the way Taehyung looks at him now, all soft and entreating. What the fuck.

“Jimin. But guess he forgot to give it to you.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“He didn’t give it to you?”

Jeongguk is going to kill his best friend.

“No,” Jeongguk gulps, a little about the prospect of Taehyung writing him a letter and more about how the barista keeps coming closer. “What – what was in the letter? In case – y’know – it’s lost.”

Taehyung looks sad at this, his shoulder slumping down as he chews on his lips in a pensive expression.

Everything about Taehyung is so enticing. It makes Jeongguk want to circle his hands around his hips and pull him close, so close that there’s no space left between them, wants to smash their mouth together so he could taste if he’s as sweet in real life as he’s in Jeongguk’s head.

“That would be sad. But I guess you’ll just have to meet me again then,” Taehyung raises his head, teasing and playful. “It’s too late for a conversation, rowdy gang leader. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Ah,” Jeongguk nods, huffing a laugh. “I understand. Princesses and their bedtimes. How did you like your carriage ride, your highness? Any complaints?”

Taehyung’s hand weaves between his on the top of his helmet. Jeongguk doesn’t dare move.

“No complaints. It was fun.” Taehyung removes his hand to tap at his side-view mirror. “However, I would like it a lot more if my biker was more focused on the road than staring into his mirror.”

My biker.

“Guilty,” Jeongguk ducks his head, face going red. “Uh – then – guess I should go.”

“Hm. Get home before it starts raining again.”

“Worried about me?”

Taehyung laughs. It sounds like music. “Go home, Jeongguk.”